The Rural Women’s Assembly (RWA) is one of the world’s most innovative and dynamic social movements. RWA is an independent and self-organized network of small-scale women farmers and peasant producers from across the Southern Africa region. In 2009, 250 women came together and established RWA with the slogan Guardians of Land, Life and Love. A decade later, with a membership of over 150,000 women, their chant has been expanded to Guardians of Land, Life, Seeds and Love.
RWA is firmly rooted in struggles to protect local seeds and local knowledge against corporate capture. They fight for land, climate justice and food sovereignty and against all forms of patriarchy, working to build conscious women’s leadership and confidence to stand up and speak for themselves.
In 2020, RWA embarked on a seed journey across seven of its ten member countries – eSwatini, Lesotho, Malawi, South Africa, Zambia and Zimbabwe – to audit which local seeds its members had in their possession. This initiative ran over nearly two and a half years, despite the Covid-19 pandemic.
‘The guardianship of local seeds allows plants to thrive without toxic inputs and away from corporate control’
One significant outcome of that journey was the identification of over 500 RWA seed guardians who play an important and often unrecognized role in preserving seed. Another outcome was the uncovering of local seeds that were on the verge of extinction due to extreme climate change – droughts, floods and cyclones – and aggressive corporate practices and government policies which did not favour rural small-scale farmers’ protection of local seeds.
The Southern African guardians have saved seeds for decades. Their mothers and grandmothers had saved seeds passed across generations to preserve a social practice that, besides having cultural significance, ensures food sovereignty. The guardianship of local seeds allows plants to thrive without toxic inputs and away from corporate control, contributing to defending biodiversity and overcoming environmental and social crises in a region devastated by the convergence of climate change and failed market-driven policies.
The Seed Guardians’ exhibition
As a follow-up to the seed audit research project initiated in 2020, RWA proposed to three researchers to produce a documentary photography exhibition. This exhibition aims at giving expression to and recognition of RWA members as key protagonists of their own herstories and seed narratives. It offers an insight into the changing landscape (political, socioeconomic, cultural and environmental) of a region under-researched and stereotyped, shining a spotlight onto the women who hold, care and share seeds in harmony with the environment in sustainable ways.
The photo exhibition serves as a window to the lives and struggles of the seed guardians of the Rural Women’s Assembly (RWA). It documents their invaluable contribution to food and seed sovereignty and struggle to ensure the recognition of women small-scale farmers, peasants and producers in policy frameworks that protect the rights to seed, land and food.
The seed guardians and the seeds themselves tell multiple and often overlapping stories: endurance and resilience; struggles for land; complex social relations and patriarchy in rural areas; gender-based violence; migration, labour patterns and social discord; climate change; rural food systems and work that provides, feeds and nurtures local livelihoods. In many ways, the seed embodies the struggle for freedom, autonomy and sovereignty of rural women, small-scale farmers and peasant producers. It is a testimony to the unseen daily work being done by RWA and its significant contribution to ensuring and enhancing biodiversity, social reproduction and rural economies.
The exhibition gives a concrete face to the seed guardian, where she comes from and how she sustains life, her family, her community and the planet. It seeks to depict not a static context nor a one-dimensional view, challenging the usual portrayal of a rural woman as helpless and poverty-stricken. The pride of the seed guardian is evident when she tells her story of how protecting the local seeds has enabled her to send her children to school, build her home and become economically self-reliant.
‘… the seed embodies the struggle for freedom, autonomy and sovereignty of rural women, small-scale farmers and peasant producers.’
The images and texts celebrate the quiet and silent activism of the RWA seed guardians and the seeds they hold. Each seed protected, harvested and sown is not necessarily perceived by the guardian as some big political act against big agribusiness, but is a small stone in the boot that is trying to control the African countryside. Each individual act of the seed guardian becomes a collective wave of solidarity across the region.
The photo exhibition is a window to the lives and struggles of almost 600 seed guardians in seven countries. It has been conceived as a tool that contributes to the advocacy efforts of the Rural Women’s Assembly, based on the direct involvement of RWA members in all the stages of research fieldwork and design and management of the exhibition.
The exhibition supports RWA’s efforts to influence public policy in a political context in which the right to save seeds is denied, with the guardians constantly facing the risk of prosecution for infringing seed patents. The images and texts that make up the exhibition aim to show who the custodians of the food system are, highlighting the resistance to the corporate takeover of land, the enclosure of farmers-managed seeds and the loss of agrobiodiversity.
In summary, the photo-documentary exhibition has four objectives:
Make the contribution of the women seed guardians in Southern Africa to food sovereignty visible.
Provide counterhegemonic narratives to the view that large-scale, technology-driven and corporate-controlled seeds are the only guarantee for the reliable supply of food across the world.
Demonstrate that seed sovereignty rests with local seed guardians, who are mainly women small-scale farmers, peasants and producers, in Africa and throughout the Global South.
Engage with policy frameworks that protect the rights to seed, land and food, such as UNDROP (UN Declaration on the Rights of Peasants); UNDRIP (UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous People) and civil society-driven campaigns around the Right to Food and the UN Binding Treaty on Transnational Corporations and Human Rights.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the authors:
Donna Andrews
Donna Andrews is a Senior Researcher at the Ethics Lab, Neuroscience Institute in the Department of Medicine, University of Cape Town and ISS MA alumna.
Daniel Chavez
Daniel Chavez is a Senior Researcher at the Transnational Institute in the Netherlands and an ISS MA and PhD alumnus.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
As the world marks the International Year of the Woman Farmer, it is worth asking how far our financing models actually go in recognising women’s labour, leadership, and power in Africa’s commodity value chains. Financing agriculture in developing economies is never just a technical exercise, it is a political one. My work with the Common Fund for Commodities (CFC) revealed how capital shapes who participates, whose labour is visible, and whose power remains constrained. This blog uses the Agricultural Commodity Transformation (ACT) Fund as a lens to examine what its gender ambitions reveal about the possibilities and limits of financing gender‑inclusive transformation.
Photo Credit: Bliss Blog
Working with the Common Fund for Commodities (CFC) exposed me to the complexities of financing agriculture in developing economies. Across the development sector, I have seen many initiatives that claim to address structural challenges in global commodity value chains. One of the most ambitious is the Agricultural Commodity Transformation (ACT) Fund, a US$75 million+ impact fund launched by the Common Fund for Commodities (CFC), focusing on Africa (70%), Latin America and Asia. On paper, it is ambitious, channeling blended finance into small and medium-sized enterprises (SMEs) that connect millions of smallholder farmers in Africa, Latin America and Asia to global value chains, while building resilience against climate change. What stood out to me, however, was its gender ambition, its promise to make gender not an afterthought, but a guiding principle.
The ACT Fund explicitly states that it wants to move women from being invisible laborers in commodity value chains to recognized leaders, owners, and decision-makers. That claim made me pause and ask: what does this transformation really look like in practice, and what does it tell us about how finance intersects with gender justice in ? This blog reflects what I have learned so far, and the tensions between ambition and practice in financing gender-inclusive agricultural transformation.
The Weight Women Carry in Agriculture
However, feminist political‑economy research has shown, for decades, that their labour is systematically undervalued. Scholars like Bina Agarwal and Cheryl Doss have also noted that land regimes, inheritance systems, and institutional norms keep women’s work central to production but peripheral to power. And because women often do not. As a result, they face slower access to new technologies, exclusion from cooperatives, and remain underrepresented in leadership positions. The statistics are sobering and only confirm what women farmers already know. The World Economic Forum estimates that, at the current pace, gender parity in economic participation is 169 years away — and agriculture widens that gap further. This is the backdrop to the International Year of the Woman Farmer: a global acknowledgement that women sustain food systems while navigating structural constraints that financing alone cannot fix. And so, when the ACT Fund places gender at the center of its design, it signals recognition that the commodity sector cannot achieve sustainable transformation while half of its workforce is systematically disadvantaged. But it also raises a harder question: what does it mean to finance gender‑inclusive transformation when the very systems that shape access, ownership, and visibility are unequal by design?
Financing beyond numbers
What I found interesting is that ACT is not just a pot of money. It is structured as a blended finance vehicle: CFC contributes US$20 million in “first-loss” capital, essentially absorbing the highest risks, in order to attract follow-on investors. Average financing sizes range from US$ 2 million to US$5 million and target agri-SMEs that act as aggregators for thousands of smallholders. Agri-SMEs are the backbone of Africa’s food economy and according to the African Development Bank , 65% of food produced, aggregated, and distributed across the continent is handled by SMEs, which also manage 90% of all trade in African economies and provide 80% of total jobs in sub-Saharan Africa.
Yet, SMEs consistently cite access to affordable credit as their biggest barrier to growth. By deliberately embedding gender criteria into project selection, using the 2X Challenge indicators on female leadership, ownership, and employment, the ACT Fund is attempting to channel capital where it has historically been absent by identifying SMEs that either already demonstrate gender-inclusive policies or hold strong potential to achieve them.
Trade Opportunities, Unequal Gains
The launch of the African Continental Free Trade Area (AfCFTA) promised to expand intra-African trade, but not all farmers and SMEs benefit equally. Intra-African trade stands at just 14.4% of total African exports. Coffee and cocoa illustrate both the scale of African agricultural production and the structural barriers to value addition. Coffee exports alone were valued at over US$3.6 billion in 2022, while Côte d’Ivoire and Ghana exported cocoa products worth nearly US$4.8 billion and US$1.8 billion respectively that same year — yet the continent captures only a fraction of the full value chain. In Middle and Western Africa, most countries earn over 80% of their export revenues from primary commodities, and Africa’s exports remain predominantly unprocessed, while imports consist largely of food products, and this reveals a structural imbalance that AfCFTA was designed, but has so far struggled, to reverse.
This is the paradox of Africa’s commodity economy: the continent is export volumes are growing, but not necessarily creating more dignified work or fairer opportunities, especially for women, whose labour is concentrated in the lowest‑value segments of these chains. AfCFTA’s promise of regional integration will only translate into gender‑responsive transformation if countries move beyond exporting raw materials and invest in processing, standards, and competitiveness. The ACT Fund’s emphasis on value addition is an attempt to intervene in this structural gap. But whether these investments produce gendered gains, not just higher export volumes, depends on how rigorously outcomes are monitored, and whether women’s roles in processing, ownership, and decision‑making are made visible rather than assumed.
Counting what Counts
One of the practical challenges in this space is measuring gender impact. The CFC often relies on self‑reported data from SMEs to track how many women are leaders, employees, or smallholders benefiting from a project. However, feminist political economy scholars like Naila Kabeer and agricultural gender researchers such as Cheryl Doss have long argued that counting women is not the same as understanding gendered outcomes. Numbers can tell us who is present, but they cannot show who has power, who controls income, whose labour is unpaid, or how different groups of women experience a project. This is why number‑based gender reporting is widely recognised as a blunt instrument.
These micro‑level realities, the ones that determine whether women’s lives actually change, are precisely what headcounts erase. A project may report that “1,290 women benefited,” but that number cannot reveal whether women were landowners or labourers, whether they had decision‑making power, whether their workloads increased, or whether they were shielded from price shocks. In commodity sectors, where financing structures shape who bears risk and who captures value, these distinctions matter. Without them, gender reporting risks becoming a numerical exercise that obscures more than it reveals. The foregoing are a reflection of the broader methodological challenges that all impact‑oriented financiers face when working with SMEs in data‑constrained environments.”
My Takeaway
Reflecting on this, I am struck by the tension between ambition and practice. The ACT Fund represents a serious effort to bring gender to the forefront of agricultural finance — not as an afterthought, but as a design principle. Yet, the realities on the ground remind us that finance alone cannot dismantle systemic barriers like discriminatory land laws, gender-biased norms, or unequal household power dynamics. For me, the lesson is this: gender-lens investing can open doors, but transformation requires more than just capital. It demands sustained policy reforms, shifts in social norms, and accountability mechanisms that ensure women are not only visible as producers but also influential as leaders.
Planting Seeds for the Future
By 2030, the vision is for women in Africa’s commodity sectors to hold leadership positions, earn fair incomes, and influence how agricultural enterprises grow. If this vision is realised, it will not just reshape markets, it will reshape communities. But to get there, governments, investors, and consumers alike must move beyond rhetoric to action.
One practical way to move from rhetoric to action is to make gender‑based reporting a standard requirement in agricultural financing, especially in commodity sectors where capital flows often obscure who actually benefits. A range of established tools already exist to help projects do this work, not as bureaucratic checklists, but as mechanisms for making women’s labour, authority, and constraints visible to financiers. Institutions such as FAO and IFAD require sex‑disaggregated data on training, inputs, and income distribution. FAO’s Gender Equality Policy (2020–2030) offers practical tools for identifying gender gaps in agriculture, including Gender‑Lex — a database of national policies — and Country Gender Assessments, which highlight disparities in access to resources, services, and employment and provide clear recommendations for gender‑responsive action. Tools like the Women’s Empowerment in Agriculture Index (WEAI), go further by tracking decision‑making power and time‑use, revealing how women’s participation is often sustained by unpaid labour that financing models rarely account for. IFAD’s Results and Impact Management System (RIMS) and frameworks such as CARE’s Gender Marker and Oxfam’s GEM approach shift attention to institutional change, who controls income, who sits on committees, and whether cooperatives adopt gender‑responsive governance. These tools matter for a simple reason: without gender‑based reporting, financing institutions like the CFC cannot see whether their investments are reinforcing existing inequalities or enabling women to move into positions of authority within commodity value chains. Reporting does not guarantee transformation, but it creates the minimum visibility required for accountability, ensuring that capital does more than circulate; it reshapes the terms on which women participate in Africa’s commodity transformation. Perhaps the most powerful framing comes from the CFC itself: the ACT Fund plants seeds of opportunity in the hands of African women. The real question, and one I continue to reflect on, is whether the soil of policy, finance, and society will allow those seeds to flourish. For taking that step and attempting to embed gender awareness into commodity finance, the CFC deserves recognition.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the author:
Emaediong Akpan
Emaediong Akpan is a legal practitioner called to the Nigerian Bar in 2015, with a Master’s in Consumer Protection Law and a Master’s in Development Studies from the International Institute of Social Studies. Her work sits at the intersection of law, gender equity, and development policy, with a focus on accountability, digital governance, and the structural inequalities shaping development outcomes. With extensive experience in the development sector, she has worked on gender equality, social inclusion, and policy advocacy initiatives across institutional and research contexts. Her interests include examining how law, technology, and feminist policy approaches can strengthen protections and create safer digital environments.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
In this blog, Olawale Fathiah Olamide, of the Humanitarian Observatory for Central and Eastern Europe, and the Centre of Migration Research, University of Warsaw, dives into the ways in which local actors co-define humanitarian governance through their interactions with international humanitarian ‘experts’. During the COVID-19 pandemic, and Cholera epidemic responses in Lagos, Nigeria, local health educators took an important role as ‘translators’ of international scientific knowledge to make it relevant for people in their everyday lives. The blog ends with a call to include local actors as active participants in sector-wide reform efforts, rather than simply as passive implementing partners.
“Experts” usually arrive on planes with clipboards and standardised plans based on international best practices. They provide the “what” and the “how” based on this expertise. But in the busy, high-pressure environment of Lagos, a sprawling megacity in southwest Nigeria, where over 20 million residents hustle for a living amidst narrow streets and vibrant markets, the “how” and the “why” in practice come from a different group: local health educators.
As a final-year health education student at the University of Lagos and a local resident, I experienced the quiet tension of the COVID-19 pandemic and the sudden alarm of recent cholera outbreaks. Volunteering at the grassroots level through the Health Education Students Association of Nigeria, an association for public health education students for health mobilisation, I observed that we are not merely “implementing partners” hired to check off boxes. We are the “experts from below” who turn cold science into the warm language of community trust.
The Myth of the “Implementing Partner”
The traditional humanitarian model views local staff as the last link in a chain, the people who distribute flyers or set up wash stations. This often leads to accusations of ‘risk dumping’, and of presenting extractive relationships as equal partnerships. This view also dangerously limits the agency, expertise, and knowledge of national partners. When a Cholera outbreak strikes a community on the Lagos Mainland, an international protocol might dictate the distribution of chlorine tablets. But as a local health educator, my expertise begins where the protocol ends. I know that in a particular neighbourhood, people will not use those tablets because of a long-standing rumour about their effects on fertility or because the taste reminds them of a poorly handled previous intervention. My role was not just to “implement” the distribution; it was to redesign the approach in real time. Rather than simply handing out tablets with a leaflet, we worked through community leaders, the people residents already trusted. In their own language, we explained the precise components of the chlorine tablets, how they worked, andwhat they did not do. We addressed the fertility rumour head-on, breaking downthe science in terms that were accessible and credible within that specific cultural context. Those leaders took the tablets publicly themselves, demonstrating their safety by example. This act of visible, trusted endorsement did more than any poster or protocol ever could. This is humanitarian governance in its most basic form, making decisions that determine whether an intervention lives or dies at the doorstep.
COVID-19: Navigating the Currency of Trust
During the COVID-19 mobilisation, the challenge was not just the virus; it was the “infodemic” and the deep-seated scepticism toward directives from above. The National Centre for Disease Control (NCDC) led the national response with evidence-based guidelines on social distancing and mask-wearing. However, I remember standing in local markets, realising that the standard posters about social distancing seemed like they were made for another world entirely. In a city where the “hustle” is essential and space is limited, telling a trader to stay home without a safety net feels less like health advice and more like a threat. As volunteers at the grassroots level, we did not simply repeat the NCDC’s guidelines; we negotiated them, and we listened to their fears to find a middle ground. We looked for the gaps where the official story failed to match the daily reality of Lagosians, and we spoke with them, acknowledging that while the virus was a risk, so was hunger. We acted as mediators, humanising the response by acknowledging both economic fears and fear of the virus. We were not just “mobilising”; we were adjusting the response to fit the city’s human landscape. Together with community members, we co-created a set of practical adaptations grounded in their daily reality. We reiterated the core guidelines, but we reframed them around what mattered most to the people in front of us. We were candid about the dangers of non-compliance, not in a way that felt like a threat, but as a genuine appeal, that health is greater than wealth, and that losing one’s health meant losing the ability to work at all. Crucially, we did not ask people to choose between their safety and their livelihood; instead, we showed them how to run their businesses while following the guidelines, making compliance feel possible, rather than punishing. These were not adaptations handed down from above, they were built in conversations with the very people they were meant to serve.
Cholera: The Expert Knowledge of the Streets
In the Cholera response, the expertise from below was even more detailed. Outbreak response is often seen as a logistical challenge, but in Lagos, it is a social one. While experts analysed data on a screen, we were on the ground identifying the specific water vendors who earned the community’s trust. I recall times when our intervention worked not because we had better medicine, but because we knew which community leader should be the first to drink the treated water in public. This is not support work; it is strategic leadership. We understand the power dynamics, the religious nuances, and the informal networks that international organisations often overlook. We realise that a health message in Lagos is only as strong as the person delivering it.
Shifting the Arena
The Hague Humanitarian Studies Centre highlights the need for “locally led” Observatories. My experience indicates that these observatories already exist; they are found in the weekly meetings of health educators in Akoka, Yaba, and beyond. If the humanitarian sector is serious about reform, it must stop seeing us as the final link in its chain. We are the first responders and the permanent residents. We do not just “act” in the humanitarian space; we shape it. It is time to understand that the most skilled expert is not always the one with an international degree – often it is the one who knows how to make a mother in a crowded Lagos street feel safe enough to trust the cure.
To learn more about the official response efforts:
Lagos State Ministry of Health: Follow org for updates on state-specific interventions and emergency hotlines.
Nigeria Centre for Disease Control (NCDC): Visit gov.ng for national situation reports and public health advisories.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
This blog is part of the ‘Humanitarian Observatories: Building a Knowledge and Advocacy Network on Humanitarian Governance’. This project has received funding from the European Union under the Horizon European Research Council (ERC) Proof of Concept.
Views and opinions expressed are however those of the author(s) only and do not necessarily reflect those of the European Union or European Research Council Executive Agency (ERCEA). Neither the European Union nor the granting authority can be held responsible for them.
This blog post is part of a Women’s Month series marking the International Year of the Woman Farmer, drawing from interviews with Mary Portillo, Yuri Tabora, and Araceli Peraza,women working at the Capucas agricultural cooperative. Their narratives show that real transformation requires more than visibility; it depends on the institutional scaffolding that shapes who gets to lead, learn and belong. By tracing how organizations create (or fail to create) the structures that make women’s leadership possible, their experiences offer insights others can learn from.
Photo Credit: BlIss Team
March brings its familiar rituals of recognition – Women’s Month, International Women’s Day and this year, the International Year of the Woman Farmer. But visibility, however welcome, is not the same as transformation. What matters is how institutions redesign themselves so that women’s leadership is not symbolic but structurally supported.
In this blog post, we share the experiences of women working within an agricultural cooperative—not to spotlight individual resilience, but to understand the organizational conditions that make their progress possible. The three narratives trace how scaffolding operates inside the institution – not as charity or exceptional support, but as the architecture through which organizations decide who enters, who advances and who is recognized as a long‑term actor. The everyday experiences of these women reveal the institutional practices that often remain invisible in public celebrations of women’s contributions. Their trajectories show what it takes for the Women’s Month to move beyond recognition and toward structural change.
Institutional trust as a gendered resource: “My job is my joy, not a duty.”
Mary’s account illustrates how women’s entry into agricultural institutions is shaped not by individual deficits but by structural conditions. She begins with no experience and describes the uncertainty of her early days – ‘I didn’t know what to say, or what to do at the beginning’ – a pattern well‑documented in feminist agrarian scholarship, where women often enter from the periphery without the apprenticeship networks or inherited confidence that men accumulate through generational participation (Agarwal, 1994). What distinguishes her trajectory is the institution’s refusal to treat this uncertainty as a limitation.
Instead of demanding long histories of competence before allowing women to be seen, the cooperative practices what Cornwall and Edwards (2010) describe as anticipatory trust. Mary was invited to the national barista championship within her first year, a high‑stakes opportunity typically reserved for more experienced workers. When she expressed doubt – ‘I felt I wasn’t ready’ – leadership intervenes not with encouragement alone, but with structural risk‑sharing. The general manager reframes the competition as learning rather than performance, a move Ely and Meyerson (2000) identify as a gender‑responsive organizational practice that lowers the penalties for inexperience and signals that the institution will absorb uncertainty alongside her. This is not benevolence; it is a deliberate redistribution of opportunity and risk.
Her progression is sustained by a collective infrastructure of support – ´from the cleaning personnel to the management´ – reflecting what cooperative studies describe as horizontal learning cultures that counteract the isolation women often face in technical roles. Her long hours of preparation are not framed as individual perseverance but as shared labour, with colleagues investing time, skill and confidence in her development. The outcomes of this institutional culture are concrete: national championships, international representation and certification as the only woman barista instructor in Honduras. She attributes this trajectory to a workplace where others ‘trust me more than I do myself,´ a perfect example of institutional scaffolding of self‑trust – the process through which organizational belief precedes and shapes women’s confidence in their own expertise.
In the context of the International Year of the Woman Farmer, Mary’s account demonstrates that supporting women is not a matter of recognition but of structure: early investment, reduced penalties for inexperience, and distributed training creates the conditions under which women’s advancement becomes predictable rather than exceptional.
Feminist organizational scholars like Ely and Meyerson (2000) show that when workplaces reduce gendered penalties, share risk and actively scaffold women’s learning, women demonstrate higher retention and deeper organizational loyalty than men in comparable conditions; this is not framed as personality but as structural reciprocity, and ten years on, Mary’s continued presence – captured in her own words, ‘My job is my joy, not a duty´. This affirms the argument of Meyerson and Fletcher (2000) and Wittenberg‑Cox (2013) : when organizational systems finally work for women rather than against them, women do not simply remain, they become the most enduring and stabilizing force those institutions have.
Institutional scaffolding and the making of technical authority
Capucas Staff Training
Like Mary, Yuri joined the Capucas cooperative without professional experience, newly out of high school, and was immediately placed into a Heifer International–Capucas food security project in remote Celaque communities. As she explained, ‘in this area there were no roads to access these communities, so I had to walk one and a half to two hours to reach them, only by foot.´
Feminist agrarian scholars such as Agarwal (1994) and Razavi (2009) note that this kind of community‑embedded labour is routinely feminized: institutions rely on women to absorb the physical and logistical burdens of rural mobility while treating such effort as ordinary rather than structurally demanding. Her initial preference for a less demanding role is dismissed, and the cooperative president insists that she is needed on the project and will receive technical assistance.
This reflects what is often called anticipatory trust, the organizational practice of extending belief in a woman’s potential before she has accumulated the credentials typically required. It shows that organizations can reproduce inequality unless they intentionally redistribute opportunity, as Capucas does by placing a young woman in a role normally reserved for more senior men.
The cooperative’s commitment to training and guidance constitutes structured support, the third component of scaffolding, where inexperience becomes a site of institutional investment rather than a justification for exclusion. Yuri’s father’s guidance in navigating the terrain complements this institutional scaffolding, illustrating Kabeer’s (1999) insight that women’s agency is shaped by the interplay of household resources and organizational opportunity. Yuri’s account therefore demonstrates how scaffolding operates across institutional and familial levels to create a pathway into technical work for a young woman who initially sought something smaller and safer.
Yuri’s progression into leadership at the organic fertilizer plant shows how scaffolding deepens over time and produces women’s technical authority. After a year in the field, she is sent to a major coffee exporter for capacity building–an explicit investment in her skills. This skill‑building can be viewed as structural empowerment, where women’s technical competence is cultivated rather than presumed absent. When she is later asked to lead Capucas’s new organic fertilizer plant and hesitates, citing lack of knowledge, the cooperative does not interpret her doubt as disqualification. Instead, it engages in what Rao and Kelleher (2005) describe as institutional risk‑sharing: the organization absorbs uncertainty by sending her to Colombia and Peru to study ongoing projects and learn best practices, rather than expecting her to demonstrate readiness in advance. This sequence–early placement in a demanding role, targeted training, external exposure and shared responsibility for risk–embodies gender‑responsive organizational redesign, where institutions actively reshape opportunity structures to counteract gendered exclusions. Her simultaneous identity as a small‑scale coffee producer, rooted in a 200‑year regional tradition of land inheritance and community economic activity, underscores how women’s agricultural labour is embedded in both cultural continuity and institutional opportunity. Yuri’s eventual confidence and satisfaction in the role are thus not framed as individual exceptionalism but as the predictable outcome of a system that invested in her learning, mobility and technical authority.
Scaffolding as institutional design
Araceli’s trajectory shows scaffolding not as a response to difficulty but as the quiet architecture through which institutions decide who gets to enter, grow and matter. She begins at twenty through a programme created for the children of producers–a structured pipeline that signals intentional inclusion rather than discretionary benevolence. Acker’s work on gendered organisations reminds us that such pipelines do not emerge accidentally; they reflect institutions that have already reworked their opportunity structures so that young women are not peripheral but expected. Araceli’s rapid promotion from auxiliary to Manager of Traceability within a year is treated as normal, not exceptional. This is what Cornwall and Edwards describe as anticipatory trust, but it also echoes Bourdieu’s point that institutions reproduce themselves by recognizing and cultivating certain forms of potential. Here, the cooperative is not waiting for women to ‘prove´ readiness; it is actively constructing the conditions under which readiness becomes possible.
Araceli’s educational pathway makes the scaffolding even more visible. While completing a US‑based master’s degree in agricultural business–delivered virtually through a cost‑free collaboration between the cooperative and the national university–she works with flexible hours and sustained organizational support. As Rao and Kelleher remind us, ‘transformative change requires altering the deep structures that reproduce gender inequality within organisations.´ Their argument is visible here: institutional transformation requires organizations to adjust their internal rhythms to women’s life courses, and Araceli’s experience shows what this looks like in practice–scaffolding as temporal alignment, where institutional time bends to accommodate women’s educational and professional growth.
Araceli’s pathway reveals scaffolding as institutional design rather than individual assistance: a pipeline that brings young women in, accelerated trust that moves them forward, and organizational rhythms that expand rather than constrain their possibilities. As the closing narrative, her trajectory widens the analytic frame. Scaffolding here is not simply what institutions do to help women navigate difficulty; it is how they build futures, redistribute possibility and align their structures with the evolving lives of the women they claim to serve.
Conclusion
Taken together, these narratives show that women’s advancement in agriculture is not a matter of individual resilience but of institutional design. Scaffolding appears in different forms–emotional and technical accompaniment, risk‑sharing and the construction of authority, and the redesign of organizational pipelines and rhythms. Across these trajectories, the pattern is clear: women rise when institutions shift around them, altering the deep structures that reproduce inequality. This is the work the International Year of the Woman Farmer calls for. If the year is to be more than symbolic recognition, it must anchor a broader commitment to redesigning agricultural institutions so that women’s leadership is not exceptional but expected. Scaffolding is not the celebration; it is the infrastructure that makes the celebration meaningful.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the authors:
Mary Portillo
Mary Portillo has served for a decade within the Capucas Cooperative, where she currently holds dual roles as Quality Control Manager and Director of the Capucas Academy. A committed coffee producer and an accomplished technical specialist, she brings deep expertise in sensory analysis, quality assurance, and producer training. She is an AST Trainer and a Licensed Q Grader, complemented by advanced certification as a Master in Coffee Training across all related areas. Her excellence in the field is further demonstrated by earning First Place in the National Barista Championship in both 2016 and 2017, representing Honduras at the World Barista Championship for two consecutive years.
Yuri Tabora
Yuri Tabora is part of the technical team at COCAFCAL, where she works in the area of solid and liquid organic product development, using byproducts. Her work focuses on the efficient transformation of raw materials, ensuring quality standards, sustainability, and compliance with established technical processes.
Araceli Peraza
Araceli Peraza is a member of the Capucas team whose work is grounded in strategic thinking. She approaches her work with creativity, initiative, and a leadership style that prioritises clarity, teamwork, and shared success.
Dania Booth
Dania Booth is a purpose‑driven professional dedicated to helping mission‑aligned organizations achieve sustainable growth and long‑term development impact. With a strong foundation in sustainable finance, ESG integration, and impact investment, she supports companies in aligning their strategies with global sustainability standards while strengthening their financial resilience.
Emaediong Akpan
Emaediong Akpan is a legal practitioner, called to the Nigerian Bar in 2015. She graduated from the MA programme Development Studies with a specialization in Women and Gender Studies at the International Institute of Social Studies, Erasmus University Rotterdam.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
For decades, Iran has remained a site of conflict, characterized by tensions between the nation and the state as well as disputes with the USA (United States of America) and other Western countries. Within these conflicts, ‘Internet connection’ emerged as a central point of contention. The Iranian regime framed free access to the internet as a national threat, citing ‘enemy’ conspiracies both inside and outside the country aimed at toppling the state; conversely, Iranian citizens envisioned ‘connection’ as a fundamental tool for dissidence and resistance against suppression, while US companies served as providers of the platforms.
When these internal and international tensions escalated to unprecedented levels in January 2026, the regime adopted a policy of total disconnection. In this blog, the author explains how the concept of ‘connection’ was negotiated within these domestic and global dynamics.
Photo Credit: Bliss Team
From the connected to disconnected Iran
The catastrophic collapse of the Iranian Rial, coupled with soaring inflation, triggered immediate frustration among the working class and traditional shopkeepers in the Grand Bazaar.
Within days, the uprising spread from Tehran to less privileged cities across Iran. Compelling videos and images of the protests streamed across social media. In one instance, impoverished residents in Abdanan entered a semi-public chain store and, rather than looting food, scattered rice over their heads to symbolize a quest for dignity over basic survival. Similarly, young protesters recorded poignant messages, stating, ‘If we are not there on the day of victory, please remember us and celebrate happily,’ anticipating the severe repression that would meet their peaceful demonstrations.
Protesters in Abdanan (Ilam province) scatter rice after raiding a chain store company
A call from the exiled crown prince also prompted many Iranians in numerous cities to join the movement. Meanwhile, the Trump administration warned the regime against killing protesters, stating that its ‘gun is prepared and fully loaded,’ and former US Secretary of State Mike Pompeo tweeted an allusion to the role of Israeli intelligence in the protests. When ten days of targeted throttling and localized cuts failed to quell the unrest, the regime implemented a systematic blackout on January 8 to mask a massive escalation in state violence. This moment served as a stark reminder of how the concept of a ‘free global internet’ is often overshadowed by the pursuit of ‘national digital sovereignty.’
A tweet posted by the former United States Secretary of State at the onset of protests in Iran
Furthermore, geopolitical resentment toward US and Israeli actions deterred many leftists from acknowledging the protests’ genuine character: a struggle by unarmed citizens against decades of domestic colonization. Consequently, the media narrative surrounding these events was dominated by outlets with right-wing leanings.
During the darkness of the total blackout, Starlink terminals were utilized within Iran to breach the digital isolation – an opportunity afforded to Iranians by the power dynamics between the regime and the US. In response, the Iranian military deployed mobile jammers to disrupt satellite signals, demonstrating a new level of technical sophistication in their censorship efforts. Through these Starlink connections, a limited number of videos were propagated, depicting thousands of protesters – a scale far exceeding the demonstrations of recent decades – alongside grim images of mass casualties in morgues. These connections also carried the voices of witnesses who testified to how regime forces shot indiscriminately at citizens, regardless of social class, region, gender or ideology. Cut off from their families and friends back home, the vast Iranian diaspora – numbering between 5 and 10 million – stepped in as gatekeepers. They organized worldwide demonstrations and worked tirelessly to ensure the world witnessed the state violence by sharing videos of the protests, the faces of the victims and their individual stories.
On 13 January 2026, mobile operators briefly restored international calling capabilities in Iran. These first calls from within the country were historic, occurring in an atmosphere described as apocalyptic. Constrained by the exorbitant cost of international rates and the threat of state surveillance, callers delivered brief, urgent messages devoid of detail: ‘They killed so many more than you could ever imagine!’. Members of the diaspora shared these conversations with exiled media outlets, such as Iran International and BBC Persian, providing firsthand testimony from inside the country. These narrow pipelines of connection allowed international agencies to begin fact-checking the scale of the state violence. Facing mounting global pressure, the Iranian government eventually published a list naming 3,117 victims; however, this figure stood in stark contrast to reports from the Human Rights Activists News Agency (HRANA), which claimed 6,842 deaths, and estimates from the UN Special Rapporteur on Iran, which ranged from 5,000 to as high as 20,000.
Reconnection
As intermittent internet connectivity was gradually restored, VPNs enabled those within Iran to send messages, albeit in a restricted capacity. Furthermore, innovations such as Snowflake – a plug-in for the Tor Project – allowed volunteers worldwide to turn their computers into temporary ‘bridges.’ By disguising Iranian users’ traffic as regular WebRTC calls (resembling video chats), these bridges forwarded data to the open internet, facilitating the sharing of numerous protest videos with international audiences.
Image by Author
However, these emerging visuals were disseminated against a backdrop of competing, reductionist narratives: international observers often framed the situation through the lens of a potential geopolitical deal or war between the regime and the US; some diasporic opposition groups used exiled media to represent the unrest as evidence of their own domestic support; and state media depicted the uprising as a terrorist coup orchestrated by Israel and the US In response, Iranian citizens used their restricted connection to counter these misrepresentations through unprecedented embodied actions.
At funerals, families invited crowds to clap, dance, and trill rather than engage in traditional mourning, reframing grief as an epic struggle and transforming humiliation into pride and frustration into collective action. During these events, parents of the victims publicly declared their pride in their children’s sacrifice for a free Iran.
A picture of the stampede at the funeral of Ali Taheri, one of the protesters killed (Source: Radio Farda).
Ultimately, the internet in Iran remains a site where the ideal of global connection and the pursuit of national digital sovereignty clash. While the regime employs increasingly sophisticated strategies of censorship and surveillance, Iranians trapped within the walls of isolation continue to build volatile transnational ties, challenging the narratives that seek to oversimplify their struggle.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts solely reflect the views of the author of the post in question
Somayeh Ghobadi
To the memory of Somayeh Ghobadi– a single mother who bore the weight of economic hardship with quiet resilience, and whose life was taken by state forces before she was granted the simple, final mercy of holding her daughter one last time.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
In early November, Indigenous communities in the Brazilian Amazon raised their voices, reminding us that without forests there is no future: “sem floresta, não há futuro”. During the UN Climate Change Conference (COP 30), global leaders discussed how to protect tropical forests as a collective effort. However, it ended without a binding agreement to stop deforestation. Given that tropical forests are often found in countries with fragile institutional contexts, Sara Vélez Zapata and Gonzalo A. Vargas ask what can we learn from communities’ achievements over the last few years?
By authors
Community forestry is a set of diverse institutions and practices that enable rural communities to participate in managing forest resources; it is a strategy to curb deforestation and conserve biodiversity, while at the same time sustaining local livelihoods. Of course, community forestry is more likely to achieve its social and environmental aims when some key institutional conditions are right: the government is supportive, tenure rights are ensured, and communal institutions are strong. But case studies from Guatemala, Mexico, and, Nepal (among others) have shown that communities sometimes manage to protect forests despite corruption, violence, and weak government capacity. What can we learn from these communities? If the “correct” institutions are missing, under what conditions do they manage to make community forestry work?
An extreme case study: the San Lucas Mountains
In the San Lucas Mountains (Colombia), rural communities do not have sufficient communal institutions to establish proper rules for the use of common-pool resources such as forests. What’s more, there are no security conditions to enforce the few rules they have. While a few communities hold land rights, most are informal occupants of the forest. At the same time, this is also a highly biodiverse ecosystem, home to several endangered species. This situation, together with armed conflict, illegal mining and coca crops, makes unlikely a sustainable future for forests and their inhabitants. However, in a recent article in World Development, we showed how local rural communities in the San Lucas Mountains despite all this have managed the forest in a sustainable manner and contributed to forest regeneration.
A story of hope
Using qualitative data gathered through several participatory techniques, as well as satellite imagery, we compared the performance and practices of eleven villages in the San Lucas Mountains. Using fuzzy-set Qualitative Comparative Analysis (fsQCA), we identified the conditions that were relevant for reducing deforestation and regenerate degraded areas.
Based on prior empirical findings and theoretical debates on community forestry, we identified four conditions of interest related to the observed conservation effectiveness: legitimate environmental leadership, empowering interactions with external organisations, land occupied by outsiders and sustainable values and practices. We found that three of these conditions supported the desired conservation effectiveness.
Their “recipe” of the successful communities combined three ingredients. First, their communal leaders promoted sustainable values and practices through environmental education and training in agroforestry. They were also legitimate in the eyes of their communities and mobilised their younger members. Secondly, their sustainable practices, e.g. agroforestry, fallow enrichment, and apiculture, were rooted in traditional knowledge and as well as in training from external organisations. Finally, partnerships with external organisations empowered local communities, allowing them to participate in decision-making processes ensuring their interests and concerns were heard.
A particularly inspiring example is the “forestry pension” idea, promoted by the Medellin-based Corporación Grupo Trópico Diverso in collaboration with Colectivo Gente y Bosques. Their partnership introduced a new way of thinking about forests in the form of a forestry pension which enables communities to use forests in the future as part of their income for their retreat. They are strengthening communities’ capacity to consider the long-term economic value of keeping the forest standing. In a partnership with local leaders, communities have learned why reforestation is important and how to implement it in degraded lands. In their own words: “We have learned to keep stubble fields, to plant rubber trees, to avoid cutting down all the trees to have a pasture, to let some trees grow so that the land does not degrade”
Our call to action is for governments, companies in interaction with local communities and NGOs to get out of their offices and look back to the territory. Rural communities are waiting for opportunities in which their knowledge is recognised so they can create collaborative learning processes. This means that communities should be in the driver’s seat when considering solutions to tackle deforestation.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the authors:
Sara Vélez Zapata
Sara Vélez Zapata is a Doctoral researcher at the Centre of Excellence for Sustainability at KEDGE Business School (France) and at the International Institute of Social Studies at Erasmus University Rotterdam (Netherlands). She earned an MSc (Cum Laude) in Interdisciplinary Development Studies from Los Andes University and a BA in Political Science from EAFIT University, Colombia. Her research explores the interactions between companies and rural communities, with a focus on their impact on forest conservation in contexts of limited statehood.
Gonzalo A. Vargas
Gonzalo A. Vargas is an Associate professor at the Interdisciplinary Centre of Development Studies (CIDER) at Universidad de los Andes (Colombia). He holds a PhD in Development Studies from the London School of Economics (United Kingdom). His areas of interest include violence, development and institutions; hunger, malnutrition and agriculture; the political economy of development; and comparative analysis.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
A long-standing debate has emphasised the need to move beyond explanations of disasters that focus on hazards and instead to focus on vulnerability in order to show how hazards become disasters. Climate discourse is reintroducing an emphasis on hazards, much to the frustration of disaster scholars. However, Hyeonggeun Ji (PhD researcher at the ISS) and Douwe van Schie (PhD researcher at the University of Bonn) argue that a divide between the hazard and vulnerability paradigms exists in both fields, and that bringing together critical vulnerability scholars from disaster and climate studies is essential for understanding and addressing contemporary climate-related disasters.
Against the hazard paradigm
In 1942, the geographer Gilbert White wrote that ‘floods are “acts of God”, but flood losses are largely acts of man’. Even then, when disaster studies had only just begun to emerge as an organised discipline, scholars understood that disasters were embedded in social structures rather than simply natural events. Yet in the decades that followed, the idea that disasters are unexpected natural shocks that occur outside of society became dominant. In response, disaster scholars argued for an alternative paradigm that framed disasters in broader structural terms.
A significant contribution to this shift was the 1983 edited volume Interpretations of Calamity: from the viewpoint of human ecology. In its first chapter, Kenneth Hewitt critiques the dominant view’s “invented geographical vision” that ignores the deep social roots of disasters. He argues that this perspective, which is “unashamedly indifferent to history”, serves the interests of powerful institutions by absolving them from responsibility. From a political-economy angle, other contributors further show how historical processes within a capitalist system create disaster vulnerability. This vulnerability focus was further strengthened by the 1994 book At Risk: Natural Hazards, People’s Vulnerability and Disasters, which introduced the “Pressure and Release Model”. Central to the models is a “progression of vulnerability”. It shows how root causes of vulnerability are deeply embedded in societal forces, such as neoliberalism and (neo)colonialism. These forces translate into dynamic pressures, which are more immediate manifestations that end up creating unsafe conditions: more direct expressions of population’s vulnerability. A disaster only occurs when these unsafe conditions meet a hazard. With the help of this influential model, At Risk firmly established vulnerability as central to understanding disasters.
A return of the hazard paradigm
Over time, vulnerability has become a convoluted concept, used differently by different institutions. The concept has also found a new life within climate discourse, especially that of climate change adaptation and, more recently, loss and damage. Yet in the 2022 edited volume Why Vulnerability Still Matters, several scholars who made fundamental contributions to the early vulnerability-centred perspective argue that climate discourse has shifted attention away from vulnerability. They voice a wider frustration that major climate institutions, such as the United Framework Convention on Climate Change and Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, promote a hazard-centred perspective similar to the dominant view that disaster scholars worked hard to counter. Indeed, when re-examining the Pressure and Release model in light of climate change, the hazard side is changing considerably, influencing the temporality and intensity of disasters.
The vulnerability perspective does not deny these changes. Rather, vulnerability scholars challenge the uncritical interpretation that regards shifts in the patterns of hazards through climate change as equivalent to shifts in the patterns of disasters. Such a climate reductionist view diverts the attention of researchers, practitioners and policymakers away from vulnerability, promoting the language like ‘climate-induced’ rather than ‘climate-related’ disasters. Such framings lead back to asocial explanations that absolve institutions of responsibility and encourage technocratic fixes that fail to address root causes of (climate-related) disasters.
Vulnerability across divides
The gap between disaster studies and climate change research in understanding climate-related disasters can be seen as a step backward, driven by limited engagement between the two fields. This lack of engagement risks reinventing the wheel instead of building on decades of advancements within disaster studies. The frustration from disaster scholars of climate change discourse in failing to deeply engage with the concept of vulnerability is then completely understandable. However, placing disaster research neatly in the vulnerability paradigm and climate research in the hazard paradigm would be too simplistic. Neither epistemic system is homogeneous. Disaster risk reduction often still overlooks vulnerability and global disaster governance still leans toward technocratic hazard-focused solutions. Indeed, the hazard-focussed paradigm has never completely disappeared. At the same time, some climate scholarship — including works like as The Political Ecology of Climate Change Adaptation and Misreading the Bengal Delta — build on and further the critical perspectives that inspired the early critical disaster scholarship. Indeed, while disaster scholars have sought to advance socially and politically informed disaster analysis, some climate change scholars have likewise endeavoured to unpack the structural and epistemic dimensions of vulnerability that influence climate impacts, paying specific attention to the new challenges introduced by climate change.
Therefore, the biggest epistemic rift is not between the two discourses — that of disasters and climate change — but between the hazard and vulnerability paradigms that splits both. In both fields, scholars are challenging the persistently dominant paradigm of hazards. Their efforts deepen the social and political dimensions of climate change beyond a reductionist emphasis on hazards. To foster this approach against simplistic views, researchers engaged in both climate change and disaster studies must collaborate on the basis of in-depth knowledge of vulnerability that bridges their respective analytical traditions. To some extent, this is already happening. Disaster researchers have advanced conceptual clarity on the role of climate change in disaster risk reduction by theorising climate change as a driver of both hazards and vulnerabilities. Likewise, climate change researchers have produced empirical evidence on the politics of climate change through the lens of vulnerability. See, for instance, this manuscript examining the weaponizing vulnerability call for policy attention on that climate change interventions can reinforce the security of already advantaged groups while deepening the precarity of marginalised ones.
Building bridges
Although these examples have demonstrated that vulnerability theory advances our sociological understanding of (climate-related) disasters and show that vulnerability cannot be analytically separated from the study of climate change, the integration of socio-political understandings of disasters into climate change research remains limited. All too often, scholars are still working within parallel research trajectories. As a result, climate policy — which is crucial in ensuring just futures — is not effectively informed. Instead, climate researchers should enhance their social and political understandings of disasters by engaging with fundamental works such as Interpretations and At Risk. This evokes several questions: Why does the vulnerability perspective remain scant within current climate change policy and practice? (How) have disaster and climate change researchers collaborated to engage more closely with climate policy discourse? What forms of collaboration are required to reclaim vulnerability within the discussions of researchers, decision-makers and practitioners in the climate change sector? Because, as international disaster risk policy has advanced through the accumulation of knowledge on vulnerability, the formulation of critical climate policy likewise requires a socially and politically informed understanding of climate change.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the authors:
Douwe van Schie currently pursuing his PhD at the University of Bonn. His research focuses on social inequality and Loss and damage within Suriname and global climate negotiations.
Hyeonggeun Ji is currently pursuing his PhD at the International Institute of Social Studies (ISS). His research focuses on humanitarian governance for climate-related displacement in Bangladesh.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
This blog is part of a series on ‘the Politics of Food and Technology’, in collaboration with the SOAS Food Studies Centre. All of the blogs in this series are contributions made at the International Humanitarian Studies Association (IHSA) Conference in Istanbul-Bergen, October 2025, to the panel with a similar title. To read the rest of the blogs in this series, please click here.
The Public Distribution System (PDS) of India, one of the largest food security programmes in the world, is a rights-based legal entitlement that distributes food grains to below poverty line households. In 2015, digitalisation, using a biometric Aadhaar system, was introduced to deal with the problems of corruption and leakages and make it more efficient. In this blog, C. Sathyamala and Somjita Lahaargue that digitalisation has not necessarily led to the streamlining of the programme but has, in fact, resulted in the exclusion of the food insecure.
Photo Credit: Bliss
In the early post-colonial period, India was a food deficit country dependent on international food aid. However, in the last three decades, it has become self-sufficient in food production and a net food exporter. Yet, the country has one of the highest prevalence rates of undernutrition in the world, which has been termed an ‘Asian enigma’, or a ‘development paradox’. As such, the country is experiencing a protracted hunger crisis. In 2025, as per the Global Hunger Index, out of the 123 countries that were assessed, India ranked 102: that was categorized as ‘serious’ level of hunger. This is despite the existence of several food security and social assistance programmes, the foremost being the Public Distribution System (PDS). Touted as one of the world’s largest food-based safety net programmes, the PDS’ aim is to ensure that certain foodstuffs are distributed at highly subsidised prices to vulnerable populations. In 2015, digitalisation was introduced to deal with the problems of corruption and leakages. In this blog we argue that digitalisation has not necessarily led to the streamlining of the programme but has, in fact, resulted in further exclusion of the food insecure.
Evolution of the PDS
During World War II, the British had introduced a system of food rationing that was functional from 1939 to 1943. Post-Independence, the Indian state revived it primarily to stabilise open market food prices and to provide some basic measure of food security, and the programme came to be known as PDS. Since its inception in 1950 the PDS has undergone several changes. In 1997, it changed from universal provisioning to a targeted system catering to only those households identified as below poverty line (BPL). Passed in 2013, the National Food Security Act (NFSA) made PDS into a rights-based legal entitlement even while retaining the targeted approach.
In 2015, digitalisation was initiated by linking ration cards with the Unique Identification biometric (Aadhaar) number of the recipients. This was to enable the authentication of the biometrics (fingerprints and iris scans) during collection of rations. This move was based on the state’s rationale that corruption would be reduced by accurate identification of beneficiaries and the elimination of fraudulent ‘ghost’ beneficiaries. During the Covid crisis, under the Pradhan Mantri Garib Kalyan Anna Yojana (PMGKAY) (The Prime Minister Food grain Scheme for the Welfare of the Poor) food grains were distributed free. This scheme of free grain distribution has now been extended until January 2029. According to the 2025 year-end review of the Department of Food and Public Distribution, digitalisation of PDS is a resounding success with the digitisation of 100 % of ration cards with beneficiaries data and an almost 100 % of ‘Aadhaar’ seeding (linking to the Aadhaar card).
Problems of exclusion
The ground level reality is somewhat sobering, though. Marginalised populations in the country have faced serious problems of exclusion. Even if eligible, households may not possess a ration card or are unable to include additional household members on that card. One reason for exclusion has been the faulty methodology used in identifying BPL households. Another is the limiting of coverage and freezing of enrolment because of a quota system. The initial BPL household identification was based on the 2011 census and in the subsequent years no cognition was taken of the population growth or changes in the economic status of a household. For instance, the central government had allotted 7.27 million programme beneficiaries in Delhi. This allocation was exhausted by 2020. Following this, a freeze on new ration cards resulted in a long list of pending applications. In 2024, the Delhi government acknowledged that 1.1 million beneficiaries were to still get a ration card.
Catch-22 situation
At times, registering for the PDS, can be a ‘Catch-22 situation’, where following official channels could result in further exclusion. One example is from our study carried out in urban resettlement colony in Delhi. An eligible BPL household attempted to access rations several times without success. This was because, the first time, a clerical error meant that their card did not have an official stamp. They were denied rations because the card without the stamp was considered invalid. Some 3 to 4 years ago, the family paid Rs 2000 (approximately €25 at the then exchange rate) to a middleman to mitigate this issue but the problem could not be resolved. One year ago, they approached yet another middleman who told them that they needed to cancel their previous ration card and make a fresh application. They then decided to give up. The irony is that digitalisation had probably categorised them as a ‘ghost’ beneficiary household because they had not accessed their rations from the time the card was made. This could also happen to migrant households if they are unable to verify their existence by completing their e-KYC (electronic know your customer) process in the specified period at the original place of registration. Currently, only 800 million people are being covered by the PDS as against the intended coverage of 813.5 million pe.
Digitalisation is not fool proof
Digitalisation poses further hurdles in accessing benefits, including difficulties in the authentication of beneficiaries. To be able to claim their food entitlement, beneficiaries must authenticate their fingerprints or iris scans at ePoS devices in ration shops that are linked to the centralised database for Aadhaar. However, the biometric authentication process is not infallible, and fingerprints may not match for the elderly or manual workers, the latter forming the bulk of the PDS recipients. When this happens, an iris scanner is used, but that can also fail for people with eye problems such as cataracts, or if they have had eye surgery. Often connectivity is an issue with the server being frequently down, in which case the customers have to wait until it is back online. The other problem that digitalisation cannot resolve is the quality of food grains in the warehouses which was not always found to be good. Though black market diversion has somewhat reduced, leakages continued because digitalisation has not led to the elimination of fraudulent/inaccurate measurements at the distribution point.
Conclusion
Digitalisation of the PDS has been promoted for its efficiency and transparency, but the ground-level realities appear to be different. By making it dependent on a ‘BPL’ constructed at a particular point of time, a dynamic situation has been made static. Further, digitalisation assumes importance only in situations when social welfare is targeted at a subsection of the population where it needs to operationalise a dividing practice in the Foucauldian sense. Given that digitalisation is not fool proof, it inevitably leads to further marginalisation of the marginalised.
Acknowledgements: Subodh Kumar, Arjun Dubey (IHD) and Chhaya Sharma for data collection.
C Sathyamalais the Co-Principal Investigator and India lead researcher of the project. She is a Senior Visiting Senior Fellow at the Institute for Human development (IHD), New Delhi, and a Visiting Fellow at the International Institute of Social Studies (ISS), Erasmus University Rotterdam, The Hague. Her areas of interest include food politics, political economy of health, reproductive rights, environmental justice, and medical ethics.
Somjita Laha
Somjita Laha is a Visiting Senior Fellow at the Institute for Human development (IHD), New Delhi, and is trained in Heterodox Economics, and Development Policy and Management. She is interested in interdisciplinary research on political economy of labour, global value chains, environmental sustainability and gender in development.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
In this blog, ISS Alumna, Tia Isti’anah invites us to rethink beyond the binary label of conservatism vs progressive. Drawing from decolonial feminist thinkers, it challenges the secular-liberal feminist moral world and invites readers to centre love as an act of unlearned colonial biases.
In 2020, I was doing research with Yayasan Rumah Kita Bersama in Bekasi, West Java, Indonesia. I remember that I perceived women who joined the Islamic teaching in ‘conservative’ mosques as victims of religious doctrine. I had some categories for what I call ‘conservative’ mosques; the ones that called themselves ‘salafi’ or ‘manhanji’ and the ones whose women used the big veil which covers their shoulders and chest.
In one of these mosques, I talked to women who refused to work after getting married because they were worried about the ‘ikhtilat’. Ikhtilat refers to the gathering, mixing and intermingling of men and women in one place. I whispered to myself about how this kind of tafsir (explanation or exegesis) limits women from doing what they want. One woman I met even refused to use online booking services for transportation because it could result in her being alone with a man, although the public transportation in that area (Cikarang, Bekasi) was difficult to find. When I also joined the Islamic studies for this research in one of the mosques in Bekasi, I saw that women could only ask questions on paper by writing it down and giving it to the committee, while men could raise their hand and speak directly to the speaker in front of the audience.
As a woman who grew up in a traditional Islamic family and school, I often experienced the Islamic tafsir that justifies patriarchy and I remember feeling angry and confused listening to it. That experience made me feel the urge to save women who follow ‘conservative’ Islamic teaching which I thought of as patriarchal. This is also the reason why I am actively involved in the Islamic feminist movement in Indonesia.
Later, I found out that my analysis of putting women who accepted ‘conservatism’ teaching as merely a victim of religious doctrine is a colonial and binary approach. Chandra Talpade Mohanty called this kind of analysis a commodification and appropriation of knowledge about women in third-world countries, where we pack them as one category: oppressed, dependent and powerless, without allowing them to speak for themselves. This objectification or analysis, however, has been used by many Western and middle-class African or Asian scholars for their rural and working-class sisters. Sabaa Mahmood book’s Politics of Piety, which is the result of her anthropological research in Egypt with pious women, can be used as an entry point to unlearn this colonial analytical category and challenge secular-liberal feminist analysis. She invites us to see religious practices in their own terms, not through the eyes of other moral values.
Unlearning colonial categorization
Mahmood’s work is important because it challenges the secular-liberal feminist approach, which is obsessed with individual freedom or free will. This obsession with the norm of individual freedom stems from a secular-liberal feminist approach, which is rooted in Western history. Individual freedom, however, is inadequate for understanding the reality of pious women in Egypt, the women with whom Mahmood conducted her research. Pious women in Egypt are living in communities with significantly different norms than women in Western countries. Mahmood saw that their life goal was not individual freedom or free will, but striving for piety by following the Prophet Muhammad’s example.
I reflected on this during my own research in Bekasi. I assumed that women following ‘conservative’ teaching are backwards and in need of being saved. I thought that the ‘conservative’ Islamic doctrine, such as ‘ikhtilat’ limits their freedom. I also considered women having to ask questions in writing in Islamic teaching as a sign of subordination, especially when the same rules do not bind men. In fact, my analysis mirrored what Maria Lazreg calls reductionism, where religion is assumed to be the main reason for gender inequality or patriarchy. By assuming this in my analysis, as Saba Mahmood mentioned in her book, I denied other realities and factors of patriarchy. This also made me reject another reality about women in Islamic teaching – the reality that what they strive for is not about individual freedom but about striving to embody piety modelled after the Prophet Muhammad.
Mahmood’s work generated criticism, for example that the celebration of pious agency, if taken too far, could risk romanticizing the power of domination and denying the structure that is often imposed by those in power. However, her argument allows us to pause before putting other women (who, borrowing from Mohanty, are actually our sisters in struggle) in the oppressed, dependent, powerless and backward category box.
Decolonial Calling
Maria Lugones, a decolonial feminist, argued that even the gender system itself is colonial, as is the very definition of gender-oppressive. Moreover, she deepened this conversation by inviting us to practice playful ‘world‘ travelling by moving to each other’s ‘world’ with a loving rather than an arrogant eye. A world, as I understand from Lugones, is characterized as being inhabited by flesh and blood people, where meaning, ideas, construction and relationships are organized in particular ways. Loving here means that we see with their eyes, that we go to their world, see how both of us are constructed in their world, and witness their own sense of selves from their world. Only by travelling to their world can we see them as subjects and identify with them because we are not excluded and separate from them.
This made it clear to me that I have failed to love women who joined the ‘conservative’ Islamic teaching. Instead, I looked at them arrogantly, seeing them as victims and as oppressed women, while at the same time seeing myself as an educated woman who has become enlightened. I failed to understand how women in ‘conservative’ teaching see themselves within their values and their world. I failed to meet women where they are, not where I assumed they should be. I failed to see their own ways of making meaning, but rather saw them through the lens of me, who was already brainwashed by the idea of individual freedom as the only valid goal in life. By travelling to other women’s worlds, we are not necessarily endorsing what they believe, but rather learning to see their world.
Looking back, I realize that Lugones’s framework has helped me embrace contradictions and differences, to live with a loving way of being. I might not always agree with what people believe but I now try to love them. I think of a friend in Iran who is forced to wear a hijab. Because of that, she hates how religion is used as a tool to discriminate against those who are different. Her story is real and painful. Yet, by travelling to the other women’s world, I also find women who find their meaning and purpose in life from the same moral universe my friend rejects: ‘conservative’ Islam. Decolonial feminists remind us to see the plurality of women’s worlds; worlds that cannot be looked at through one single lens, especially not the lens of Western domination and power. The journey has humbled me, enabled me to unlearn what I thought I knew ,and relearn seriously from the wisdom of other women’s worlds who are different from mine – how they seek meaning, resilience, and dignity.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the author:
Tia Isti’anah
Tia Isti’anah is a freelance writer/researcher. She is an alumna of International Institute of Social Studies. Some of her writings can be found here: https://linktr.ee/tia.istianah (mostly in Indonesia language). Connect professionally here: www.linkedin.com/in/tia-istianah
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
Since 7 October 2023, German authorities have imposed a far-reaching domestic crackdown on Palestine solidarity in tandem with the government’s political, diplomatic and material backing for Israel’s genocide in Gaza. In this blog, Josephine Solanki shares the findings of her recent reportfor the Transnational Institute. She analyses and contextualises this crackdown, which ranges from legal changes, protest bans and police violence, to smear campaigns, cultural de-platforming, workplace reprisals, and the instrumentalisation of migration and asylum law. Together, these measures illustrate the emergence of a repressive infrastructure in Germany which criminalises almost any effective form of solidarity with Palestine and threatens broader civil liberties.
Aimé Césaire’s wrote that the methods of domination, racism and dehumanisation forged in Europe’s colonies eventually “boomerang” back, corroding democracy and being redeployed as repression inside Europe itself. Germany’s support for Israel’s genocide and apartheid regime abroad – with more than €485 million in arms transfers to Israel granted – has translated into repressive policies, mass surveillance, police brutality, and a shrinking space for free expression at home. A recent report titled ‘Solidarity under Siege: Germany’s repression of the Palestine movement’ I wrote for the Transnational Institute synthesises interviews with seven activists from the Palestinian solidarity movement, including Palestinians and German, Muslim and Jewish people, among other (overlapping) identities, legal and political analysis and case evidence to identify four main pillars of repression:
The legal-political architecture that deliberately conflates anti-Zionism with antisemitism; using lawfare as a deterrent against political participation (with an estimated 12,000 Gaza-related cases currently pending), and specifically the instrumentalisation of asylum and migration law against those without German citizenship
Police violence and the crackdown on protests, with hundreds of demonstrations having been simply banned since October 2023
Cultural censorship, including the cancellation of events or exhibitions and uninviting of critical artists, funding cuts for both Palestinian and other organisations, and deplatforming of Palestinians and those standing in solidarity with them
workplace and economic consequences, including dozens of cases of people losing their jobs
Central to the repression of the Palestinian solidarity movement is the deliberate conflation of antisemitism and anti-Zionism. Germany’s historic responsibility for the Holocaust is routinely used to justify another genocide and the repression of those who try to stop it. Critics of Israel, many of whom are Jewish, are labelled as antisemitic and Palestinians who mourn their dead and demand justice are cast as a threat to public order.
This crackdown is not enforced by state power alone. As I show in the report, media outlets play a direct role in manufacturing consent by consistently justifying the genocide in Gaza and the violence inflicted on the West Bank as ‘Israel’s right to self-defence’. Domestically, they have uncritically echoed official German and Israeli state political and police narratives, dismissing or even inciting violence against the solidarity movement and ignoring the rapidly shrinking space for dissent. Meanwhile, many civil society actors have effectively self-policed their members, disinvited Palestinian speakers, cancelled events, and remained silent in the face of repression. Even sectors of the German left and social movements, fearing reputational damage or funding cuts, have failed to resist Germany’s authoritarian shift. Worse, in many cases they have actively enabled it.
A dangerous development in this context is the instrumentalisation of migration and asylum law. Under the pretext of combating antisemitism and extremism and in a general climate of increasingly inhumane, harmful and at times deadly migration policies, the state has refused visas, reopened asylum processes or blocked people’s naturalisation processes (both Palestiniansa nd others) for their Zionist stance. Thousands of people are currently threatened by deportation because of their activism, and at least one person has lost their citizenshipafter it was granted due to a revised 2024 citizenship law. Essentially, Germany has already turned into a two-tier society where people without citizenship have to think twice about what they post on social media, whether they attend a protest, and how they want to engage politically. Furthermore, while state actors continue to single out rising antisemitism, other forms of racism, particularly Islamophobia, have surged, with people paying for this with their health and lives.
This crackdown is not occurring in a vacuum. It is part of a broader shift towards the hard-right and the securitisation and militarisation of various domains in German and in global politics. What we are witnessing is not only complicity in a genocide, but an attempt to remilitarise German society, to redefine dissent as extremism, and to equate liberation movements with Nazism. Measures tested on the Palestinian solidarity movement may well be extended to other dissenting groups, from environmentalists to anti-militarists. With the EU and especially Germany actively preparing for war, the government is gearing up to suffocate the slowly reawakening anti-war movement.
The consequences of the repression are of course also deeply personal. For many Palestinian, Arab, Muslim and anti-Zionist Jewish residents in Germany, daily life has become a climate of violence and fear. Even so, people are resisting. Protests continue, even in the face of police violence. Palestinian voices remain defiant.
About the author:
Josephine Solanki
Josephine Solanki works at the Transnational Institute, an international research and advocacy institute committed to building a just, democratic and sustainable planet. She holds an MA degree with distinction in Development Studies from the ISS and a BA degree in Philosophy and Economics.
But is this really a true ‘reset’? And for whom is the system being ‘reset’? Similar promises were made following the World Humanitarian Summit and associated ‘Grand Bargain’ in 2016, but these initiatives were characterized as top-down, and in some cases quite removed from the daily lived realities of people affected by crisis, and the people and organizations that respond to crisis.
This blog follows a discussion held by members of the Humanitarian Observatory movement: a network of 16 grounded, self-governing, and multi-actor spaces that aim to foster humanitarian knowledge sharing, research, advocacy, coordination, and dialogue. During the Observatory Network meeting in October 2025, held in Istanbul in the lead-up to the IHSA Conference, more than 25 people representing 16 Observatories discussed the ‘Humanitarian Reset’ (split into groups), critically analysing its relevance in the real world and imagining a more relevant a poignant reset. This meditation on the Reset joins several others, including a statement by NEAR Network, ICVA, and even a recently-released think piece by the CHA thinktank in Berlin heralding the ‘fading’ of the Reset.
This blog is based on those discussions, with three main themes having emerged:
Theme 1: A Humanitarian Reset focusing only on better responses is partial
Across multiple groups, Network members discussed a perceived focus only on making humanitarian response better within the Humanitarian Reset. Multiple groups highlighted the need for a more holistic and long-term approach to humanitarian action if the Reset was to be made more relevant. This approach should be cognizant of and try to combat past historical injustices that have affected how people in various contexts are able to ‘deal with’ humanitarian crisis: “we should focus on the structural and historical issues, including everyday threats to people’s lives”, and “a lot of crises are structural and based in power and historical structures.” It was felt across various groups that formal humanitarianism focusing only on responding to disasters is missing quite a lot of ingrained and historically-related precarity that affects people’s day-to-day lives more than technical disaster response improvement does.
Meanwhile, multiple groups also highlighted that with the ever-growing effects of climate change leading to a “permanent state of emergency”, the nature of humanitarianism is changing and thus the Reset should consider taking a different and more cyclical approach: “Why is the current system not working? It is designed for quick fixes and emergency management”. In general, the groups saw a lack of attention in the Reset documents and discourse around Disaster Risk Reduction, Anticipatory Action, and other longer-term projects and initiatives that try to reduce people and societies’ vulnerabilities. One contributor quipped that the Reset seems to be trying to make the formal humanitarian system more resilient to funding cuts, rather than making societies more resilient to disasters; especially due to its call for ‘hyper prioritisation’.
Theme 2: The Humanitarian Reset should pay attention to a wider range of actors as being part of the ‘humanitarian system’
Across all discussions, Observatory Network members highlighted that the Humanitarian Reset seems to spend too much time focusing on the work of the ‘formal’ humanitarian system; for example iNGOs, UN Agencies, and some national organisations (depending on the context). This leads to a partial definition of ‘who’ and ‘what’ needs to be ‘reset’, and also reduces the transferability of its proposed changes. The focus on the international organisations leading local also led to discussions on the Reset as a form of neo-coloniality.
For example, several groups highlighted that the Reset up until this point has not particularly engaged with state actors, which are becoming ever-more pertinent humanitarian actors (or: actors with humanitarian aid roles), and especially with reference to slower-moving crises caused by climate change, such as extreme heat. The axing of most USAID programmes in early 2025 underlined this experience in Namibia: “it was a wake up call to the government, to work on its own and sustain its own people. This is something of a positive, it has helped push the government to provide for its communities… there is a new youth empowerment programme, whether the government is giving funding for young people to start up projects.” Meanwhile in South Asia, colleagues found that following USAID cuts they could pivot to work with affected people to define their own recovery from disaster (in this instance, extreme heat).
HO Network members brought attention to the point that most of the actors addressed by the Humanitarian Reset’s priorities are part of the established or ‘formal’ humanitarian system: “I haven’t really seen any region where the reset is happening or being driven by people on the ground. It is very top down”, and “most of the humanitarian [work] is coming from the North to the South, and this is part of the problem.” One group brought up the continuing presence of UN Agencies as being the main funding channels as an example that the approach taken in the Reset is unnecessarily narrow. The impression for many members of the Network is that the reset is a Global North-led initiative, that hasn’t really begun to approach shifting the centre of humanitarian work from its historic headquarters. In Kenya, for example, despite its ambitions, Reset-led initiatives it have not yet demonstrated a meaningful shift toward locally led decision-making or recognising the leadership of actors responding to climate-related crises, especially in the Kenyan arid/semi-arid regions. This theme also raised questions about accountability: you cannot genuinely reset a system if governments (and the donors supporting that system) do not feel accountable for causing the conflict or crisis (e.g. in Palestine and Sudan).
However, many of the groups did note that the number of people and organisations doing humanitarian work is broadening as a response to their context. Trends highlighted include several donors (for example, Gulf Donors) preferring to channel their funds directly to local or national actors.
Theme 3: A Humanitarian Reset cannot be ‘one size fits all’, and should be contextual
“We need to break down the universalism of the humanitarian system, as there are multiple humanitarian systems in place”. Many members of the Observatory Network observed that assumptions of universal applicability of many humanitarian reform initiatives hamper actual, real-world reform. Several people also highlighted that the language of humanitarianism used in many of the Reset documentation is not an accurate reflection of most people’s lived realities, and drew parallels to HDP Nexus initiatives: “it is now becoming detached from reality, and is becoming only useful for donors.” It is also important to highlight that a universal attempt to reform the humanitarian system minimises the differences in how change happens in diverse contexts. For example, in DRC, Network members noted that change will require bringing together national Civil Society organisations, not just (i)NGOs. “In our experience, changes are not linear. It is like a farmer; you plant seeds and wait. Something is happening [under the surface], but it is hard to see each step.” Meanwhile, the more diverse and plural the reset, the more effective it is likely to be in South Asia. Standardization is useful, and as a start, to lead to many local blooming of reset that is harmonized, localized, and contextualised.
Other takeaways
Within the group, several people noted that the Humanitarian Reset documents and statements mention further collaboration with the Private Sector as a way to increase efficiencies, funding, and broaden service provision. Whilst participants generally mentioned the potential possibilities of (further) Private Sector inclusion in humanitarian aid provision, for example by allowing displaced people living in Thailand to work in the private sector, obtain a wage, and live with more dignity, many sounded cautionary notes:
In India there is a discussion that there is a huge focus on corporate organisations taking humanitarian action. A lot of privatisation is taking place. A lot of monetisation is taking place in the name of cash transfers. The victims are not seen as victims, but as a potential workforce. HOISA finds that Reset must move from this ahead to make each victim an agent of new, safe, and less at risk community and nation with the help of the authorities and corporations as soon as possible.
In Kenya, meanwhile, there are discussions within the observatory network that increasing private sector involvement in drought response and climate services, while useful in some cases, is also creating concerns. In several contexts, essential services risk becoming commercialised, with vulnerable households treated more as customers than rights-holders. Hence, the need for safeguards to ensure that private sector engagement supports resilience rather than deepening existing inequalities.
In general participants also called attention to issues with “hyper prioritization”, which may lead to humanitarians having to make choices between contexts undergoing moderate severity crisis versus high severity crisis, with one participant saying that the approach might lead to “not providing food aid to the hungry, to allow provision to the starving”.
Conclusion – Reset how?
The Humanitarian Reset has the same potential as other reform initiatives led by the UN (as one participant highlighted: “this isn’t a new initiative”) including the Grand Bargain, but it might be better for the UN to take a more introspective look and propose reform, for example via the UN80 initiative. Within the Reset, there is a lot of talking happening, but this risks of becoming performative, rather then genuine transformation and meaningful action. Unfortunately, the Reset’s narrow focus in several ways means that it is likely to be a tool for funders and institutions that consider themselves part of the ‘formal’ humanitarian system. Indeed, several people highlighted that the slashing of USAID funding and programming caused bigger on the ground shifts due to necessity. Whilst there are new developments in multiple humanitarian contexts, including bigger roles for local/national organisations, inclusion of networks and citizens’ groupings in programming, and new forms of funding – these are happening at the same time as the Humanitarian Reset, not as a result of it.
This blog was written with contributions from:
Humanitarian Observatory DRC
Humanitarian Observatory of Ethiopia
Humanitarian Observatory of Latin America and the Caribbean
Humanitarian Observatory of Palestine
Humanitarian Observatory of the Netherlands
Humanitarian Observatory Initiative South Asia (HOISA)
Humanitarian Observatory of Namibia
Humanitarian Observatory of Kenya
Humanitarian Observatory of Central and Eastern Europe
Humanitarian Observatory for Policy and Education, South East Asia (HOPESEA)
Humanitarian Observatory of Nigeria
Humanitarian Observatory of Myanmar
Humanitarian Observatory of Somalia
Humanitarian Observatory of the Philippines
Maraka Humanitarian Observatory of Pakistan
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
The Authors:
Mihir Bhatt (AIDMI), Juan Ricardo Aparicio Cuervo (Uni. Los Andes), Eunice Atieno (ORNACO), Patrick Milabyo Kyamugusulwa (ISDR-Bukavu), Julia Goltermann (KUNO), Tom Ansell (HSC-ISS), Kaira Zoe Canete (HSC-ISS), Gabriela Anderson (HSC-ISS)
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
This blog is part of the ‘Humanitarian Observatories: Building a Knowledge and Advocacy Network on Humanitarian Governance’. This project has received funding from the European Union under the Horizon European Research Council (ERC) Proof of Concept.
Views and opinions expressed are however those of the author(s) only and do not necessarily reflect those of the European Union or European Research Council Executive Agency (ERCEA). Neither the European Union nor the granting authority can be held responsible for them.
This blog is part of a series on ‘the Politics of Food and Technology’, in collaboration with the SOAS Food Studies Centre. All of the blogs in this series are contributions made at the International Humanitarian Studies Association (IHSA) Conference in Istanbul-Bergen, October 2025, to the panel with a similar title. To read the rest of the blogs in this series, please click here.
In this blog, Iris Lim, Susanne Jaspars, and Yasmin Houamed (SOAS) highlight a growing food crisis in the UK, alongside a ‘digital-by-default’ welfare transformation. Digitalisation has created the potential to exclude poor and politically marginalised populations because they are unable to pay for digital access, and because of the way the system has been designed. They argue that this exacerbates already existing food insecurity and that digital access is fundamental to addressing it.
Over the last decade, the UK’s deepening food crisis has unfolded alongside a ‘digital-by-default’ transformation of welfare and food support infrastructures. Over this period, food insecurity has increased to as much as 18% of the UK population (in 2022). Emergency food distribution, almost unknown a decade ago, has soared, with Trussell, one of the UK’s largest food bank networks, distributing 2.9 million emergency food parcels in 2024-25, the equivalent of one parcel every 11 seconds. Policymakers routinely justify digitalisation for reasons of efficiency and accountability, but in this blog, we show how it redistributes responsibility and burden downward onto those already experiencing deprivation and food insecurity and deepens exclusions for those that need welfare the most across England. For a wide range of population groups (for example refugees, migrants, or white working class), design and delivery choices shape who gets help and who falls through the cracks.
In the UK, the digitalisation of welfare started with Universal Credit in 2012, which combined seven different benefits (unemployment, housing, child benefit, etc) to a single monthly payment. It requires claimants to apply online, and to provide ongoing online entries and communications with work coaches. Despite concerns raised early on about exclusions due to digital poverty, this was followed by online registration and pre-paid debit cards for the ‘Healthy Start’ government food support programme (for pregnant women and those with young children) in 2022. Free school meals have also been digitalised, and several government and charitable organisations distribute digital vouchers to be redeemed in supermarkets. Supermarkets and other retailers have also developed a number of apps to supply food to organisations and to individuals. Government digitalisation strategies from 2010 were driven by austerity policies which entailed cutting welfare and public service spending,Amnesty International, in examining the UK’s welfare system, concluded that it does not comply with obligations under the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights. Human rights violations include the barriers imposed by digitalisation because they increase hardship.
Poverty as a digital ‘paywall’
Poverty acts as a digital ‘paywall’ to food assistance and wider welfare access. Access to digital devices, data, and skills, all contingent on affordability, has become a prerequisite for gaining welfare support. Few people living in poverty have smartphones and so rely on basic phones, or, in the case that their phones have been lost or stolen, they rely on shared numbers. For those who did have smartphones, data poverty pervaded their experience. Those unable to purchase data for internet connectivity must hop between public Wi-Fi hotspots or borrow hotspots from volunteers. Broadband social tariffs are available from some internet providers but are poorly publicised and often unaffordable or unavailable where needed. According to one assessment, 95% of eligible households miss out. In some rural and peri-urban areas, connectivity infrastructure is lacking, making access difficult. Exclusion operates through market mechanisms, requiring people to purchase access to claim public support.
Eroding infrastructure and disappearing spaces of care
As public spaces with face-to-face support have diminished, food banks and community support organisations have doubled as social infrastructure where people can still receive mediated digital access and build trust and skills, yet these remain volunteer dependent and uneven.
Myth of simple digital literacy
One persistent issue underpinning digital welfare is the assumption that digital competence and skills is straightforward – that if someone can use a smartphone, they can navigate a digital welfare system. The reality is far more complex. Digital skills vary highly by context and people adept at sending messages and photos to their friends on social media apps may struggle with formal emails, government portals, and forms. These concerns cut across generations and familiarity with technology, affecting older adults and younger people alike. Language and literacy also create key barriers, with both English as an Additional Language (EAL) and native English speakers struggling when they confront text-heavy portals and official language. To fill this gap, only ad hoc chains of help and translation through friends, children, and volunteers mediate a fragile and uneven access.
Design choices
Interface and service design itself shapes patterns of exclusion. Designers build platforms that work best on desktop computers, but most marginalised people use them on mobile phones with tiny screens and face difficulty uploading required documents. Some systems still require people to download PDFs, print them, fill them out by hand, scan them, and email them back. These complicated user journeys overwhelm even confident users, especially if they have to travel to access a printer or scanner, which introduces new costs to your attempt to access food assistance. Small missteps, such as a missed upload deadlines or dropped connection, often produce detrimental sanctions or benefits losses.
As Taylor notes in ‘Beyond the Numbers’, when systems demand proof that vulnerable people cannot provide, we risk ‘institutionalising a bias towards the visible’. In the UK, welfare design may be embedding this bias directly into interfaces and processes. Rather than streamlining access for those who need food assistance the most, digitalisation seems optimised for administrative efficiency. This creates obstacles for users who must travel far to scan forms, navigate portals instead of speaking to humans, and be digitally competent to demonstrate their need through online forms. Within the UK Welfare system as a whole, several organisations including Amnesty International have highlighted the ‘punitive regime’ of administration and complexity needs to access benefits that people are eligible for.
The psychological toll
The digital-first regimes carry heavy psychological costs, such as anxiety around sanctions for simply missing an email, humiliation at intrusive verification, and a sense of being set up to fail. People describe panic when payments stop, tears at job centre interactions, and resignation among older residents too proud or too demoralised to ask for help. The shift to digital has removed the human interactions, that at their best, allowed for discretion and dignity.
Conclusion: The politics of digital-by-default and its effect on food insecurity
In a context of cuts and rising need, the UK’s digital transformation of welfare and food assistance often deepens rather than bridges marginalisation. By layering device and data requirements and eroding in-person infrastructures, digitalisation reorganises access to food assistance, welfare, and ultimately, food security, through new forms of stratification. The UK government has developed a welfare system that makes it difficult to navigate for precisely those who need it the most.
Digitalisation has coincided with increases in food insecurity and has added to the burden on food assistance projects, and often volunteers, which now also provide support with digital access. The timing is good to bring about change. The Government is committed to reducing dependence on emergency food parcels. And initiatives like The Crisis and Resilience Fund could make digital inclusion a core part of food security policy and not just an afterthought.
More Reading: This blog post uses findings from an ERSC-funded project entitled: Digitalising food assistance: Political economy, governance and food security effects across the Global North-South divide. See: https://digitalisingfood.org/.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the authors:
Iris Lim
Iris Lim is a Postdoctoral Researcher and works on the UK case study for the ESRC-funded project that analyses the effect of digitalising food assistance. Her research examines digital public service delivery, digital inclusion, citizenship and integration, and critical user-experience (UX) research.
Susanne Jaspars
Susanne Jaspars is the Principal Investigator of the same project. She is a Senior Research Fellow at the SOAS Food Studies Centre. She is also a Research Associate at CEDEJ Khartoum, and co-editor of Disasters Journal. Susanne researches the political dynamics of food in situations of conflict, food and humanitarian crisis, and has also analysed migration and asylum policies. Other interests include social approaches to nutrition and accountability for mass starvation. She has worked mostly in the Horn of Africa, often Sudan, but increasingly also in Europe.
Yasmin Houamed
Yasmin Houamed is the Research Assistant for the UK case study of the ESRC-funded Digitalising Food Assistance project. She received her MA in Anthropology of Food at SOAS, University of London, and her BA in Political Science from Stanford University. Her research has previously focused on food systems and commodification in Tunisia.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
This blog captures the current political situation in Indonesia under Prabowo’s regime. This regime utilizes all possible resources to bring back an authoritarian government; from eliminating opposition and restructuring national budgets, to other structural intervention and subtle measures such as controlling the way people acquire knowledge by controlling media and using a buzzer or ‘thought leader’ who promotes opinions and perspectives sympathetic to the regime with the aim of making them seem common. Fatimatuz Zahra considers the regime to be employing colonial logic, in which the state treats its own population, particularly marginalized groups, as objects to be disciplined and extracted from rather than as respectable subjects.
From the very beginning, Prabowo Subianto and his vice president Gibran Rakabuming (37 y.o at that time) took advantage of an opaque political system in Indonesia. Gibran, who is the son of former president Joko Widodo (Jokowi), fulfilled the administrative requirement to run in the 2024 election for vice president after the constitutional court approved a lawsuit lowering the minimum age requirement for a presidential and vice presidential candidate. Following this decision, the chief justice of the court , who is Gibran’s uncle, was removed from his post due to an ethical violation. Jokowi’s endorsement of Gibran’s candidacy was also allegedly done through what used to be known as ‘pork barrel politics’which can be defined as using state and public resources to influence voters. In this instance, the regime used state resources, such as mobilizing the social assistance budget, to further its political interests. Jokowi (at the end of his second presidential term) played a huge role in the success of Gibran’s candidacy, which seems to have been well prepared ahead.
These dirty measures continued throughout the campaign. Prabowo and Gibran successfully whitewashed Prabowo’s dark history and blood legacy, including his involvement in the 1998 human rights violations, through their ‘gemoy’ campaign and use of jargon to reshape Prabowo’s image into that of a cute, chubby grandpa. With the massive use of social media campaigns and narrative battles to rebrand this pair, they successfully won the election with 58% of the votes.
What is it like to have a president who is allegedly a human rights violator?
Amnesty International said that Indonesia is experiencing the most serious deterioration of human rights since the 1998 reform era. This can be seen in many areas: the massive militarization of civil spaces, the absence of meaningful public participation in the policy planning and implementation process, and the excessive police repression that has been increasingly normalized. In November 2025, the House of Representatives and the government passed a revision of the Criminal Procedure Code (KUHAP) that further facilitates the police’s use of brutality. In response to the legislation, Indonesia witnessed a massive protest in August 2025 against police brutality and to demand reform of the bureaucracy. Yet instead of listening to that protest, the regime continues to pave its way toward authoritarianism.
Strategies of power consolidation under the current regime
In October 2025, the documentary “Dirty Vote II: O3” was released and went viral. The video exposed how this regime consolidated its power via three pillars: otak, otot and ongkos(O3) or mind, muscle, and money. The documentary suggests that the regime is deploying these three pillars as an expression of insecurity. The regime needs to strengthen its muscles (otot), namely the security apparatus, such as the military and police. These institutions have been repurposed by the regime and no longer function to protect citizens or provide external defence, but increasingly act as instruments and defenders of the ruling elites’ interests. Another strategy is demolishing the opposition as a manifestation of the mind (otak) to push through laws and other political decisions that serve oligarchic interests. And this strategy has been successful, as is evidenced by how easily this regime has passed many problematic laws that have been protested against for years. The last strategy is to strengthen guided capitalism, as a manifestation of money (ongkos). This constitutes an elite-driven mechanism of power consolidation to manage the regime’s interests. One recent example of this was to change the electoral system from direct elections to selection by the Indonesian House of Representatives (DPR), an institution that has been criticized as dysfunctional and not representing the people.
One of the most visible implications of deploying these three pillars is how this regime continues to ignore people’s voices. This is clear in policy decisions that are not grounded in public interest, for example, the decision to impose budget cuts in strategic sectors such as health and education to fund the problematic free-meal programme, which, rather than resolving the policy objective of addressing stunting, has generated widespread cases of food poisoning. We are also witnessing how this regime openly dismisses any criticism, for example, when it passed the Indonesian National Armed Forces Law (UU TNI) and the revised Criminal Procedure Code (KUHAP) despite nationwide protests, some of which included fatalities.
Using paternalistic logic, this regime has also silenced women’s voices with its many militaristic policies and projects, such as making the military a strategic partner in the free-meal programme (MBG) while at the same time ignoring the protests of mothers who live in fear of their children being poisoned by it. Indeed, even the President regarded the poisoned children as merely numbers. The way this regime is refocusing the budget by cutting spending in the care sector while continuously increasing defence spending is another example of how this regime is structurally marginalizing women.
Reproducing colonial logic
From the practices above, we can see that this regime is currently continuing the colonial legacy by deploying colonial logic in its way of governing. The way this regime defends elite interests while continuing to delegitimize critics by using expressions such as ‘ndasmu’ (an insulting word, like bullshit) or ‘antek asing’(a political slur used to label someone as a lackey of foreign interests in order to delegitimize their action) to describe critics, is evidence of how this regime is trying to normalize its exploitation. This is an important pillar in the coloniality of power – seeing the population as inferior in order to justify their exploitation. In order to maintain its power, the regime is also deploying a strategy of whitewashing collective knowledge, such as denying the historical fact of the 1998 mass rapes and reframing human rights violators such as Soeharto as national heroes. This is a manifestation of coloniality of knowledge, which controls the knowledge and production systems as a means of asserting superiority within the hierarchy of power.
Fundamentally, this regime reproduces the logic of coloniality, which works by producing the hierarchy of ‘being’, with certain groups being treated as more fully human than others. This is manifested in people’s voices and interests being easily dismissed, with their interests taking second place to those of elites. People’s voices are seen as noise that obstructs power, rather than expressions of political agency. This forces critics of the regime to continue our collective movement to resist this colonial structure, which promises the dream of modernity while steadily narrowing the space for civic action in the name of stability.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts solely reflects the views of the author of the post in question.
About the author:
Fatimatuz Zahra
Fatimatuz Zahra is an alumna of the International Institute of Social Studies (ISS), where she majored in Social Justice Perspectives. Her work engages with gender, religion, and political issues in Indonesia, with an interest in decolonial approaches and feminist analysis
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
This blog is part of a series on ‘the Politics of Food and Technology’, in collaboration with the SOAS Food Studies Centre. All of the blogs in this series are contributions made at the International Humanitarian Studies Association (IHSA) Conference in Istanbul-Bergen, October 2025, to the panel with a similar title. To read the rest of the blogs in this series, please click here.
Digital tools promise efficiency and impartiality in humanitarian response. In food aid, biometric systems are meant to ensure that the ‘right’ people receive assistance. But when the verification of need depends on being readable by a machine, accountability shifts. Drawing on field experience in South Sudan, Hayley Umayam explores how exclusions come to look like a system error rather than a downstream effect of human decision-making.
Needs-based programming is the organizing principle of most contemporary humanitarian action. In South Sudan, where millions require assistance each year, and resources are consistently insufficient to meet needs, organizations justify allocation choices through a ‘logic of impartiality’: aid should go to those most in need. This logic is increasingly operationalized through digital and technocratic systems designed to make suffering measurable, commensurable, quantifiable, and thus ‘governable’.
Over the past decade, humanitarian agencies have turned to digital tools like fingerprint scanners and unique digital identifiers to manage service delivery. These tools promise accuracy and efficiency, an appeal that is easy to understand in a world of shrinking aid budgets and growing demand. They offer a way to demonstrate that limited resources are used responsibly and that assistance is delivered to the “right” people, thereby reinforcing claims of impartiality. There are plenty of technological evangelists, too, highlighting the potential use of Artificial Intelligence or Machine Learning in ‘streamlining’ the aid process.
Within this paradigm of impartiality-through-efficiency, accountability becomes largely procedural. It risks being defined less by relationships with affected communities than by the ability to show that needs-based logic has been correctly applied. If you can demonstrate that you followed needs-based logic using the right indicators, vulnerability criteria, and verification procedures with some level of “community buy-in”, you are seen as accountable. In other words, claiming that “the most in need” were reached is a way of demonstrating impartiality, and accountability is about legitimizing hard choices in contexts where almost everyone can qualify as in need. Strangely, humanitarian hyper-prioritization may actually lead to a reduction in the number of people who can access aid.
South Sudan makes the limits of this approach especially visible. Routinely described as complex and protracted, it is a setting where identifying the “most in need” is not only contested but, in practice, impossible to do in any complete sense. Selection is less about discovering need in any comprehensive sense than about justifying exclusion in the most acceptable way under conditions of scarcity.
When I reflect on the promises and risks of digitalization in these conditions, I return to a moment early in the rollout of biometric systems at food distributions I helped monitor. This encounter may seem mundane, but shows how core ideas of need, accountability, and responsibility are shifting as humanitarian action is increasingly digitally mediated.
“Before the computer, we used to get food”
At a food distribution site in Lakes State, a woman presses her finger onto a biometric scanner. The machine beeps, and the screen shows a red X: Not matched. She wipes her hand, prays, and tries again. After several attempts, the screen finally turns green. The next woman in line is less fortunate. Her fingerprints fail repeatedly. After trying multiple machines, she is sent home without food, her distress visible.
“They have brought computers in and these useless cards that make some of us not get food,” she says. “Before, without the computer and with our previous cards, we used to get food.”
During these early months of biometric rollout, moments like this were common. Fingerprint readers often struggled with calloused, dusty, or sooty hands. People waited anxiously to undergo a process they did not fully understand. Some prayed before placing their finger on the device, others cried with relief when the screen flashed green. And when it didn’t, there was little to be done but blame the computer.
The long social and moral labor of being selected, being summoned for a distribution, queuing, and presenting oneself as deserving collapses into a single, opaque interaction between body and machine. At that moment, one’s neediness is technical, not social or relational.
“It’s the System That Decides”
Frontline staff experienced these moments of biometric failure with their own mix of frustration, sympathy, and resignation. They had been trained on the new equipment, but they could not control how the machines behaved. When the screens displayed error messages, there was often little they could do to fix the problem on the spot. They could not see inside the system or override its judgement. While they could log exclusions in hopes of a ‘catch-up’ distribution cycle, I seldom saw mention of this in upstream reporting. Concretely, a non-recognized fingerprint simply meant no food, while a distribution that adhered to its list of scannable beneficiaries checked the box of impartiality.
Biometric systems were introduced into an already tense moral terrain. Even before digitalization, frontline staff were the face of decisions that they often had no control over. Caseload numbers were set elsewhere, and it was the unenviable task of field teams to turn those inevitably constrained numbers into a verified list of the “most in need.”
In this context, some staff began to see digital tools as a buffer against the reactions of the affected-but-excluded. Instead of saying we cannot assist you, staff could say the system does not recognize you.
Who is accountable for technical errors?
Some of these early rollout issues have been partially mitigated over time. Nevertheless, the encounter at the scanner still matters because it offers a glimpse into how humanitarian need and accountability are being reconfigured, which will likely only continue with increased digital aid practices.
Exclusion appears as a technical error rather than a consequence of prioritization and human decision-making. This sustains a humanitarian fantasy of impartial needs-based programming in which defaults to technical systems and procedures. By transforming moral and political decisions into technical ones, humanitarian organizations can maintain legitimacy amid chronic shortfalls, while displacing responsibility onto machines and caseloads. This procedurally legitimizes needs-based distributions while making certain bodies invisible, producing a formal sense of impartiality even as real-world access is uneven. Meanwhile, those with unrecognizable fingerprints have limited recourse to accountability.
None of this means digital tools should be rejected outright. In many contexts, they can limit some forms of abuse and allow aid to reach people who might otherwise be excluded. But if we evaluate them only in terms of their supposed efficiency or as neutral tools of impartiality, we miss how they redistribute responsibility, normalize exclusion, and translate need into something that exists only when a system can verify it.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the author:
Hayley Umayam
Hayley Umayam is a PhD candidate at the Geneva Graduate Institute. Her research focuses on the politics of knowledge and expertise in famine and mass starvation. She holds an MA in Peace and Justice Studies from the University of San Diego.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
On 16 October 2025 academic and practice thought leaders came together to discuss Protecting civilians in a changing world order at the IHSA conference hosted by Marmara University in Istanbul, Turkiye. This blog, written by Amra Lee with other panelists, is a result of the panel discussions and intends to continue critical discussions on protecting civilians, with a view to establishing a Working Group in 2026.
The geopolitical dynamics driving changes to the current world order – including the resurgence of ‘might is right’ and decreasing respect for international law – have pushed the humanitarian system including the law, norms, institutions and funding that support it to its limits. Ongoing impunity and the growing normalisation of war without limits continue to increase threats to civilians, aid workers and principled humanitarian action. The impact of these threats have been compounded by seismic changes to the humanitarian donor landscape, particularly the withdrawal of major funds and funders.
While protection for civilians in conflict has often been inconsistent and insufficient in practice, the nature and scale of the current threats and challenges require urgent action. Political and humanitarian actors, including parties to armed conflict, must acknowledge the gravity of the current moment and work to leverage a wider range of practices that can help prevent, mitigate and respond to civilian harm.
The UN Secretary-General in annual Protection of Civilian reports and briefings to the Security Council has called for moving beyond the more traditional focus on compliance and accountability to explore a wider range of “effective, legal, policy and operational responses”. The International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) has further been working with a diverse cross-regional range of member states to reinforce respect for international humanitarian law. And at the same time, the humanitarian sector has many lessons to inform the reset – that protection is central to humanitarian action, that proactive protection requires incentivisation and investment, and that, in practice, civilians are most often agents of their own protection.
The panellists responded to the above context and calls, examining how a humanitarian reset and the UN80 reform discussions can better centre people and their protection in practice, and explored new pathways forward. The pathways included lessons on civilian harm, theorising humanitarian diplomacy, accountability as a fifth humanitarian principle, centering civilian safety and security, and critical lessons from the Responsibility to Protect (RtoP).
Opening the Discussion
Amra Lee from the Australian National University opened the panel, providing an overview of a changing world order and what decreasing respect for international law on the resort to and use of force means for civilians and the wider humanitarian system. This includes record aid worker and journalist deaths, the increasing challenge of countering mis-disinformation and hate speech, and the imposition of the Gaza Humanitarian Foundation during an imminent risk of famine, that saw 1373 Palestinians killed simply trying to access food to survive.
Reorienting Focus to Proactive Protection
Hannah Jordan from the Norwegian Refugee Council (NORCAP) presented on the joint NORCAP-Nonviolent Peaceforce-Alliance for Peacebuilding research that developed an analytical framework to reorient civilian protection practice to proactively respond to civilian safety and security in a context of escalating harm. This includes shifting the current focus on providing services to reducing risks, interrupting violence and supporting local solutions. The framework prioritises actions that are civilian-centered, systemic, cross-sectoral, cross-temporal, influential, specific and adaptive, providing key guiding questions to support such work.
Building on this foundation, Gemma Davies presented the timely joint HPG-ODI-Nonviolent Peaceforce research that directly responds to the risk of deprioritising protection in ongoing Humanitarian Reset discussions with ‘back to basics‘ narratives, reinforcing the need to proactively (re)prioritise and refocus protection efforts to demonstrate how they reduce civilian harm and increase investment in civilian-centred protection.
Humanitarian Diplomacy, Principles and Accountability
Clothilde Facon-Salelles from the University of Antwerp presented on theorising humanitarian diplomacy, examining the power dynamics between international humanitarian actors and semi-authoritarian states in a way that does not presuppose the hegemony of liberal humanitarianism.
Following this, Junli Lim from Nanyang Technological University of Singapore, presented on ongoing challenges and threats to principled humanitarian action, including the role of private security contractors. This included proposing accountability as a fifth humanitarian principle, and discussing the ways in which emerging mutual aid networks and practices contribute to accountability with local trust that can increase the effectiveness of protection services. Mutual aid practices offer important insights into alternative systems for implementing humanitarian assistance and governance.
Civilian Harm
Marnie Lloydd from the Te Herenga Waka-Victoria University of Wellington examined national inquiries that take place following action in conflict, highlighting deficiencies in militaries’ transparency and reporting mechanisms, as well as recommendations that emerged from these inquiries including New Zealand’s Defence Force Order 35 on Civilian Harm. Marnie discussed the urgency of integrating robust proactive preventive measures, civilian harm tracking, and transparent reporting frameworks from inception, reflecting on what the UN Secretary-General’s Protection of Civilians report for 2023 characterizes as a ‘broader approach…addressing the full range of civilian harm’, to move toward more comprehensive protective measures.
Rise and Fall of RtoP
Building on the themes of accountability and civilian-centered protection, Stefan Bakumenko concluded the panel with a discussion on the rise and fall of RtoP. Conceptualised in 2001 and formalised in 2005, the concept nominally promised communities at risk of atrocity crimes a combination of good governance, international cooperation and multilateral intervention. However, incentives to respect existing normative commitments were already fading in the face of global militarization, austerity, multipolarity, attacks on international law, and instrumentalisation of the concept, as seen in Libya, Ukraine, and Palestine. Today, protection will need to better understand and support grassroots mobilization, mutual aid, and accountability, instead of relying on the whims and shifting political interests of states.
Moving Forward
The geopolitical dynamics driving changes to the world order can be expected to continue, with far-reaching implications for civilians and principled humanitarian action. The need to refocus, adapt and expand approaches to meet the current moment is clear. While power shifts increase threats and risks for civilians, they also present an opportunity to challenge past problematic beliefs and forge new understandings on how to mobilise more effective civilian-centred and civilian-led action. The panel initiated a timely discussion on recentering protection in humanitarian action and discourse, reinforcing both the responsibilities of states at a time of existential threats to principled humanitarian action and the critical role that civilians will continue to play in their own protection.
* The panellists intend to continue these discussions and plan to establish a dedicated working group on civilian protection within IHSA in 2026. Please reach out to Amra Lee amra.lee@anu.edu.au and Marnie Lloyd marnie.lloydd@vuw.ac.nzif you are interested to join.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
Amra Lee is a senior practitioner and PhD researcher whose research focuses on protecting civilians in a changing world order.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
This blog is part of a series on ‘the Politics of Food and Technology’, in collaboration with the SOAS Food Studies Centre. All of the blogs in this series are contributions made at the International Humanitarian Studies Association (IHSA) Conference in Istanbul-Bergen, October 2025, to the panel with a similar title. To read the rest of the blogs in this series, please click here.
In this blog, ICRC Senior Policy Advisor Pierrick Devidal highlights the systemic humanitarian implications of the ‘Politics of Food and Technology’, arguing that humanitarians need to move away from a techno-solutionist and productivity driven approach, to one based on rights and digital resilience-building. This shift would strengthen their capacity to leverage digital technologies to achieve their objectives and to stay aligned with their principles.
As the contributions to this series illustrate, humanitarians are increasingly aware that the bright promises of the digital transformation often come with a darker side. After years of bingeing on digital solutions, humanitarian organizations are waking up with a ‘digital hangover’:confronted with digital distortions of their ethics and overwhelmed by cybersecurityrisks beyond their control. There is no doubt that technology provides significant opportunities for humanitarians to extend their reach and impact, yet the risks that this step implies are equally significant. Understanding the broader socio-political context in which the digital transformation has emerged can help deconstruct the fictions that underpin the promises of techno-solutionism, allowing for a recommitment to the humanitarian ethos and better management of the risks of over-reliance on digital technologies – including for food assistance.
Looking back to move forward
The rapid rise of digital solutions to humanitarian problems in the 2000’s was framed by the promise of convenience, speed, and scale. This was understandably persuasive for organizations faced with increasing global needs, limited budgets, and numerous obstacles to safely accessing communities. In the hope of lower cost and resource efficiency, humanitarians embraced digital innovation solutions. Additionally, those offered remote-controlled intervention opportunities reducing physical exposure to the increasing security risks of operating in unstable environments. In a context of generalized techno-determinism – and the idea that technological developments are an inevitable conduit to progress – donors strongly encouraged them to go further.
However, behind the lure of innovation and performance, the ‘digitalization of everything’ was also driven by the ‘securitization of everything’. In the context of the so-called ‘Global War on Terrorism’, data and digital surveillance became key instruments for security agencies, and humanitarian organisations – operating in territories sometimes controlled by non-state armed groups listed as ‘terrorists’ – often considered potential suspects. The data trail of digital humanitarian solutions provided an opportunity to reduce perceived fraud and aid diversion. The digital transformation of humanitarian action therefore, became the cradle of ‘surveillance humanitarianism’,opening access to vast amounts of people’s personal data to State and private actors that could misuse it for non-humanitarian purposes.
The normalization of digital cash transfers replacing more traditional cashassistancemechanisms illustrates the shift. Under the cover of convenience, speed,and improved security, this‘digital solution’alsobroughtnew parameters that were fundamentally at odds with humanitarian considerations. For example, humanitarian partnerships with banking actors introduced ‘Know Your Customer’ requirements into the system andeffectively turnedrecipients of aid into presumed fraudsters and possible terrorists. By joining digital cash transfers programs – to which there were often no alternatives – affected people submitted themselves to surveillance systems, in practice forced to trade away their biometric data to access cash assistance. The gain of financial inclusion and autonomy came with significant risks that their personal data be accessed andmisusedby authorities to arrest, persecute, or evenkill them.
While mainstreaming digital solutions, humanitariansunconsciouslyundermined theirability to identify and mitigate the harm they may be causing. Convenience and security fordonors and humanitarian organisations may have come at the price of digitally triggeredinsecurity for the people they are meant to protect and help. Despite significant progress in the domain of data protection and cash transfers since then, profound challenges remain.
Deconstructing the fictions behind the promise of digitalization
The ‘digitalization of everything’ has permeated humanitarian language itself, creating an urge to add the ‘digital’ prefix to longstanding concepts to appear relevant and cutting edge: ‘digital dignity’, ‘digital harm’, and even ‘digital famine’. While useful to capture technologically influenced evolutions, this verbal tic can in fact create the illusion that these concepts have a ‘digital double’, disconnected from real life. Yet, the consequences of ‘digital harms’ are very tangible for the people that experience them.
The concept of ‘digital sovereignty’ is another fiction that can have dangerous consequences. It is a chimera (made up of various different, and sometimes contradictory parts), and the notion itself is at odds with the reality of the intrinsically global and interconnected digital domain. Those who try to achieve it, including through digital surveillance and censorship, quickly face its limits and boomerang effects, unconsciously highlighting the extent of their digital dependencies. For example, internet shutdowns meant to curb instability or public demonstrations often feed more discontent due to their paralyzing, and very costly, impact on the economy. Their secondary effect on food security can be devastating when the absence of cash and the impossibility to use digital cash transfers and remittances makes food inaccessible, thus deepening humanitarian crises.
The multiplication of ‘big data’ and algorithmic systems for needs assessments have also indirectly transformed food assistance. While strengthening anticipatory and early warning systems to detect possible food crises, they have also distorted humanitarian impartiality. As we have now learned, ‘big data’ can turn into ‘bad data’. The inherent limitations of data – which are often at best incomplete and at worst inaccurate – can be amplified by algorithms and generate biases and discriminations that exclude those in the digital periphery or on the other side of the digital divides.
This offers lessons-to-be-learned for humanitarians. By massively investing in the development of their digital capabilities for the promise of increased efficiency, they have inadvertently expanded their vulnerability to cyber and digital risks. In doing so, they multiplied their dependencies and relinquished their autonomy and independence to technology providers who do not stand by the same values and objectives. Without building back their ability to operate normally when connectivity is disrupted, they risk becoming prisoners of those dependencies and non-humanitarian agendas. With the emerging ubiquity of ‘artificial intelligence’ based systems in the operational and information management set-up of humanitarian organisations, it is the impartiality of aid that is now at risk of disappearing into algorithmic ‘black boxes’.
Building humanitarians’ digital resilience
In a context of staggering need, increasing political pressure, and reduced budgets, there is no doubt that humanitarians must harness the potential of digital technologies for more efficiency and better impact – including in the food assistance domain. Yet, they must urgently redefine their relationship to digital technologies to be able to better prevent and mitigate the risks such technologies create for both humanitarian organizations and the people they serve. What is needed is to switch from a solution driven and productivity-based approach, to a problem and resilience driven one based on rights.
The pathway to digital resilience – designing humanitarian responses systems that effectively integrates digital risks and can function through digital disruptions – is a re-commitment to the humanitarian principles and understanding of their application in digital environments. Concretely, for humanitarians, this starts by:
Understanding the profoundly political nature of the digital transformation to prevent the risk of humanitarian actors partnering with State or private actors whose political agendas and economic objectives lead to techno-colonialism and digital extractivism – undermining their neutrality, independence, and commitment to ‘do no harm’.
Acknowledging that humanity cannot be data-fied and accepting that if digital tools and data can help, they cannot replace the unquantifiable yet critical human elements that underpin empathy and respect for dignity and the heart of humanitarian action.
Ensuring that the data and digital tools used to identify humanitarian needs do not create blindness to the needs that such tools are not designed to see – to preserve impartiality in a world of AI hallucinations and data biases.
Reducing and better managing digital dependencies to maintain the ability to operate and deliver aid anywhere it is needed – even when there is no connectivity – to avoid that human survival and dignity become hostages of data or access to the internet.
In short, building resilience against the dark side of the digital transformation has become the only way to avoid that what defines humanitarianism gets lost in digital translation.
BLISS will be publishing various blogs from this series over the next few months. For more information about the project ‘Digitalising Food Assistance: Political economy, governance and food security effects across the Global North-South divide’, check out the project website, or overview on the website of SOAS, University of London.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the author:
Pierrick Devidal is a Policy Adviser at the ICRC. He has worked as an ICRC Field and Protection delegate in Colombia and Darfur, for the United Nations Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights, and the Office of the Prosecutor of the International Criminal Court. Pierrick holds a LL.M in International Law and a Master’s in International Relations and Political Science.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
This blog is part of a series on ‘the Politics of Food and Technology’, in collaboration with the SOAS Food Studies Centre. All of the blogs in this series are contributions made at the International Humanitarian Studies Association (IHSA) Conference in Istanbul-Bergen, October 2025, to the panel with a similar title. To read the rest of the blogs in this series, please click here.
In this blog, Tamer Abd Elkreem (University of Khartoum) and Susanne Jaspars (SOAS) argue that digitalised food assistance in Sudan presents an extreme case of digitalisation as lifesaving but at the same time its weaponisation through internet shutdowns. It feeds into power relations and a violent, extractive political economy by excluding some of the most marginalised and functioning as a tool for economic and political control.
Food assistance has a long history in Sudan, as has its manipulation for political purposes. Efforts to digitalise finance, food, and social assistance started in the mid-2010s for reasons of access, accountability and efficiency, including through the use of biometric ID cards, pre-paid bank cards, electronic vouchers, online self-registration, and mobile money. These initiatives involve a range of organisations, authorities, and companies (e.g. telecoms, internet providers, banks, merchants). The current war and its humanitarian repercussions offer a critical lens through which to examine the dual nature of digitalisation: it is a life-saving intervention as it is one of the only ways that aid can be provided to crisis-affected people since the start of the 2023 war. At the same time, though, digitalisation leads to new exclusions and feeds into inequalities. We argue that the digitalisation of food assistance must be understood within the context of asymmetrical power relations, competing interests, and political economy.
The weaponisation of communications
The manipulation of communication systems has become a weapon of war . The banking system collapsed in April 2023 with the start of the war between Rapid Support Forces (RSF) and Sudan Armed Forces (SAF) from April 2023. The Bank of Khartoum had the only banking app (Bankak) that continued to function, because it had developed online solutions separate from the Central Bank infrastructure and was not dependent on its electronic switch. It soon became the main way of assisting people in Sudan, as international humanitarian organisations left, and – already limited – government social protection programmes stopped. Moving physical goods across the frontline (that divides the east from the west of the country) became almost impossible.
In February 2024, the RSF sabotaged government internet service providers (in large parts of Sudan, including Darfur, Khartoum, and Al-Gezira), stopping communication and digital cash transfers for at least 2 months until it was gradually restored in some areas. At the same time, RSF and affiliated traders brought in Starlink satellite dishes from Chad and United Arab Emirates to provide internet services. They could benefit economically from charging fees for internet access but more importantly, could control communications and conduct surveillance of the population. In war-affected areas, Bankak and Starlink devices have become the only means of access for besieged communities, for examples in cities like Al-Fashir during much of 2024 and 2025. In our research, we see that access to Starlink internet access is clearly linked to war dynamics and stability of RSF control: the more securely held, the more Starlink services and the lower the cost of access. In areas of active war Starlinks services are subject to heavy security surveillance or are confiscated to prevent its used for intelligence communications to SAF. In October 2025, the RSF at first live-streamed their massacres in Al-Fashir to show their capture of the city, but following widespread international condemnation completely blocked communications to cover up the atrocities.
Digital exclusions
Though digital cash transfers provide aid to some, many are excluded. Clearly, the internet shutdowns discussed above are the most extreme form of exclusion. Otherwise, humanitarian operations have been underfunded, and digital innovations by international organisations (self-registration, digital vouchers, wallets and platforms) remain small scale and experimental. Charitable people in Sudan and diaspora outside the country provide cash to relatives and friends, often connected via WhatsApp, or send it to community initiatives such as soup kitchens (Takaya) and Emergency Response Rooms (ERRs). Money is most often transferred via Bankak. In the aftermath of the Al-Fashir invasion, these same WhatsApp groups became a tool for extortion. Sudanese abroad deleted the groups when it became apparent that the RSF used them to identify foreign contacts to demand ransom payments as well as to identify SAF collaborators.
So what happens to people who do not have relatives in the diaspora? In parts of Al-Gezira, we see deepening inequalities. The labourers previously working on the agricultural scheme are historically marginalised in terms of land ownership, and access to land, and social services. Few have relatives abroad. They now have no work, no diaspora aid, and are less represented on aid committees. Even if they did have friends to send money, since the SAF recapture the internet is weak and few banks are operating, and most are undocumented citizens.
For mobile money transfers, you need a bank account, an ID document, as well as a smartphone, which many in rural areas do not have. In many parts of Sudan, particularly in Darfur, people did not have these because they mistrusted government (and banks) and did not want to be visible to the state. This necessarily limited self-registration for international aid programmes using online applications, as well as who could receive transfers from diaspora. Those who did have Bankak accounts could make large profits by charging for the transfer. In RSF areas, where banks remain closed, merchants or businesses act as mini-banks. Our researchers documented the range of fees that businesses charged for money transfer transactions, and that the charge is directly related to level of insecurity and market functionality, ranging from 5% in relatively secure areas, up to 70% in the extreme case of tightened siege of Al-Fashir.
Those who did not receive sufficient assistance from organisations or through social networks, went into debt, carried out precarious work (like e.g. cleaning, cooking, petty trade – if markets were functioning), or migrated to work in gold mines. Some joined the army or militia: and so, fed directly into the war.
Feeding into unequal power relations and political economy
Digital banking and digital aid feeds into power relations and political economy through the practices used and businesses and authorities involved. Over the past year, Sudan has seen a rapid expansion of digital banking. The government enforced financial digitalisation by issuing new banknotes, a move that created a vast digital trap. Sudanese citizens were required to deposit old, unbanked cash into financial institutions but faced severe withdrawal limits, precipitating a cash crisis. This scarcity, in turn, pushed more people toward digital payments. Humanitarian organisations initiated and helped promote digital cash transfers where they had not done so before. This change also provided the government with funds for the war and undermined the economic system in areas controlled by the RSF. The RSF, in response, maintains the use of the old currency and is establishing its own currency system illegalising the new banknotes in its controlled areas.
In Sudan, the most strategic telecommunication and financial sectors had long been privatized, and mostly owned by foreign countries who are also heavily investing the war. For instance, more than 80% Bank of Khartoum, which has lions share in the digital financialization, is owned by UAE. We are also witnessing a phenomenon in which the state is being bypassed by digitalisation – including by privately-owned Starlink satellite dishes and solar panels (in places like Darfur), digital technologies using blockchain and platforms that bypass banks, and many organisations use US-based multi-national corporations to store their data. Digitalised food assistance programmes are not only eroding national sovereignty from this aspect only but also by weakening the social contract; no one, these days, is talking about the responsibilities of the state.
Conclusion
The unprecedented crisis in Sudan reveals the digitalisation of food assistance as both a lifeline and a threat, a tool that connects vulnerable communities, that both mitigates and perpetuates emergencies, and saves lives while feeding the very forces that endanger them. Through data extractivism, it simultaneously erodes national capacities, agencies, and legitimacy. Digitalisation needs to be considered from the perspective of these wider parameters rather than from a purely technical one.
More Reading:
This blog post uses findings from an ERSC-funded project entitled: Digitalising food assistance: Political economy, governance and food security effects across the Global North-South divide. See: https://digitalisingfood.org/.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the authors:
Tamer Elkreem
Tamer Abd Elkreem is a Co-Investigator/Sudan lead researcher of the project. He is a lecturer at the department of Sociology and Social Anthropology and the Deputy Director of Peace Research, University of Khartoum. His research interest focuses on power relations of development, Anthropology of post-colonial state, anthropology of mega developmental projects and critical analysis of its discourses and practices in Sudan.
Susanne Jaspars
Susanne Jaspars is the Principal Investigator of the project. She is a Senior Research Fellow at the SOAS Food Studies Centre. Susanne researches the political dynamics of food in situations of conflict, famine, and humanitarian crisis. Ongoing interests include: regimes of food practices and power relations, social approaches to nutrition and accountability for mass starvation, European migration and asylum policies and their effects. She has worked mostly in the Horn of Africa, often Sudan.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
This blog is part of a series contributed by presenters at the International Humanitarian Studies Association (IHSA) Conference, held in Istanbul and Bergen in October 2025. Here, Alasdair Gordon-Gibson looks into the changing context for humanitarian action, and argues for a new and broader approach that embraces diversities of actors, approaches, and contextuality.
Many of the issues raised in the panels at the IHSA Conference, have focused on civilian protection. Most discussions centre around perceptions of a diminished humanitarian space and a lack of respect for humanitarian principles, as well as a loss of trust in its participants. My research argues that the space for principled humanitarian action has not diminished, but that changes in the geo-political landscape, with a growing diversity of stakeholders and increasing agency of affected populations, has meant that the nature of space for shared discussion has altered. To regain trust and access in this changed environment, humanitarians must learn a new way of thinking and talking that is more inclusive, respectful, and confident in the universal value of its discourse.
This requires a solution that looks beyond resetting the current patterns of policy and practice and turns towards a radical change in the way we think around the humanitarian engagement with politics and power. It will mean uncomfortable participation in spaces of engagement that challenge the traditional humanitarian approaches around neutrality and impartiality.
Most working in the humanitarian sector consider the principles of neutrality, impartiality and independence as being an essential and pre-existing part of the expression of ‘humanity’, and that are universally applicable regardless of context or culture. However, to many analysts they were established – like the organisations themselves – at a particular historical juncture and so may represent an ethos that is questioned or rejected by stakeholders outside of their foundational traditions. To regain relevance in a revised space requires confident engagement with the prevailing context of humanitarian action. This means acknowledgement of the political identity of the humanitarian sector, and recognition of its social agency: its interface with established and non-established power.
Auxiliary or Anarchist? The freedom to choose
Scholars of Social Identity Theoryhave observed that people’s orientation towards authorities change once they have established a social bond, meaning that incorporation into the social fabric of public life increases the likelihood of a more considered interpretation of the intent of authority and its auxiliary structures. The construction of social capital, and its associated features of trust, norms of behaviour and mutual obligation, have been linked to an emergence of community participation, where voluntary engagement with state or non-state authority is seen to be a product of shared values and a culture of responsibility to one’s community and society.
Interpretations of the auxiliary role has often been a contested concept in humanitarian engagement. As humanitarians, we are always an auxiliary in some form, most importantly to the community in crisis, but also often to the established or unestablished authorities and other stakeholders in the emergency response. The question posed here is how to navigate this relationship? How to challenge authority when red lines are crossed?
There is history of a legitimated identity to question and challenge authority that shares a common genealogy stretching from Europe to the Middle East and beyond. The traditions and politics are different, but there is a universal expression of dignity and respect, and the voluntary impulse to protect these values, that is common to all. Participating in the discourse of power and playing an influential part as a trusted challenge to authority is not absent from the contemporary humanitarian environment. Examples are evident when local actors and national politicians choose to resist authority – or are auxiliaries to authority but have access to opposition discourse.
Context Matters
There are no blueprints for a humanitarian response, since in every case the social and the political dynamics are different: context matters. The rise in authoritarianism, inequality and social injustices exacerbated by political authoritarianism, and environmental catastrophes through climate change, means that new social movements will emerge and so the formal humanitarian system must adapt in order to respond. This means acknowledging the hierarchies of politics and power and working more transparently with them. Access and engagement in this changing context require a new humanitarian approach. Humanitarian principles must be the lodestar guiding the ethical and operational compass but with recognition of their limits.Prescriptions of rules and principles do not mean their universal acceptance or applicability in all contexts: a dogmatic prescription of rules and procedures neglects the reality of people striving to survive in a crisis.
Mistrust and disappointment with the global political responses to conflicts and complex emergencies, where a sense of humanity is seen as a diminishing concept in humanitarian responses, has led for increasing calls for solidaritywith affected populations that identifies a shared humanity. Disenchantment with political authority makes it more important than ever to engage with the political discussion, rather than distancing from it in the quest for absolute neutrality, impartiality, and independence. It means influencing political decisions in a bolder way that promotes the social agency of the humanitarian identity: one that engages in a discussion that is less dogmatic and directs towards a space for discourse around an ordinary humanitarian society rather than an ordered humanitarian system. I suggest that reconsideration of the two ‘orphaned’ Red Cross and Red Crescent Movement Fundamental Principles of Voluntary Service and Universality, interpreted and understood in the contexts of contemporary conflicts, will help drive a principled discourse with power and politics that is able to be in solidarity with the most vulnerable: an auxiliary when it works and an anarchist when it does not.
ENDNOTES
IHSA 2025 – Panel: Politics of humanitarianism: power, influence, and governance. Session Friday 17th October: ‘The politics of humanitarian negotiations.’
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
Alasdair Gordon-Gibson
Alasdair Gordon-Gibson worked for 25 years within the International Red Cross and Red Crescent Movement. Awarded a PhD in International Relations from the University of St Andrews he is currently an Honorary Lecturer with the Graduate School for Interdisciplinary Studies, University of St Andrews. Email agg2@st-andrews.ac.uk
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
The Dutch have voted. Migration was once again front and centre. Campaigns warned of crises, headlines framed Europe as divided. Open borders versus closed minds, compassion versus control. It all sounds like Europe has taken sides.
But has it?
New research from the PACES project, led by Anne-Marie Jeannet, Associate Professor at the Department of Social and Political Science, University of Milan, suggests a quieter, more nuanced reality.
Most Europeans are not at the extremes. They sit somewhere in the middle. Ambivalent, thoughtful, and conflicted, they recognise that migration can be both necessary and challenging. They want rules and fairness, but, they also care about protecting people in need. Europeans Want Balance and Fairness.
The findings show that Europeans tend to support strong border control and structured return policies, conditional welfare benefits, and targeted regularisation schemes. For example, this could include returning rejected asylum seekers, limiting benefits to those who meet certain conditions, and allowing some undocumented migrants to stay legally.
Immigration policies that included returning migrants with criminal convictions were over 10 percent more likely to be supported than those that did not. By contrast, policies proposing to contain asylum seekers in third-country camps were 4 percent more likely to be rejected, as were policies offering residential or tax-based incentives to attract migrants (3 percent more likely). Overall, the study shows that the public favours policies that are lawful and orderly, but not excessively restrictive.
The silent middle often resolves tensions between competing values using mental shortcuts, or heuristics. Citizens distinguish between authorised and unauthorised migrants and between law-abiding and criminal individuals when forming policy opinions. When rules are transparent and fair, trust grows. Yet migration policies are often viewed as unclear, which can fuel fear.
The Middle Is Large, But Quiet
This middle majority is easily overlooked. Loud, extreme voices dominate headlines, giving the impression that Europeans are either for or against migration. In reality, most people hold multiple, sometimes conflicting, values: humanitarian concern, fairness, and a desire for order. They recognise that migration is not simply good or bad — it is a normal part of social life that can bring benefits, challenges, and everything in between. Rather than choosing sides, they weigh trade-offs, evaluate policies conditionally, and respond to evidence.
As World Migrants Day approaches on the 18th of December, perhaps it is time to move beyond framing people as simply for or against migration. These debates often make me wonder why so many of us feel torn about it. Many people say they want to help refugees while also wanting borders to be managed, or that they support integration but worry about pressure on housing or jobs. That mix of concerns is not a contradiction. It reflects the complexity of real life.
It also raises further questions: why is it so difficult for the silent middle to express their moderate views? Is it a lack of knowledge, a lack of interest, or simply the noise of polarised debate? And what would it take to bring these more balanced voices into the conversation?
Migration is more than a policy debate. It is a mirror reflecting our values, fears, and hopes. Acknowledging the silent middle, the thoughtful but often conflicted majority, opens the door to conversations and policies that reflect reality rather than rhetoric. And the next time you read that Europe has turned against migration, it is worth remembering that while extreme voices are loud, a much larger, quieter middle is watching.
Funded by the European Union. Views and opinions expressed are those of the authors only and do not necessarily reflect those of the European Union. Neither the European Union nor the granting authority can be held responsible for them.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the authors:
Anne-Marie Jeannet
Anne-Marie Jeannet is an Associate Professor of Sociology at the University of Milan and affiliated with Bocconi University’s Dondena Centre. Her research examines how social changes such as deindustrialization and immigration reshape political life and public perceptions. She leads the ERC-funded project Deindustrializing Societies and the Political Consequences (DESPO) and has published widely in leading journals.
Marcela Rubio
Marcela G. Rubio is an Economist in the Migration Unit at the Inter-American Development Bank. She earned her Ph.D. in Public Policy and Administration from Bocconi University in 2022 and studies how migration dynamics affect crime, human capital, and development outcomes. Her work spans Latin America, the Caribbean, the United States, Europe, Africa, and Asia, with prior experience in academia, NGOs, and international organizations.
Lois Mobach
Lois Mobach is a Communications Advisor at Erasmus University, where she supports major research initiatives. She works on projects including PACES, helping translate complex findings into accessible communication. As co-author, she brings expertise in research dissemination and public engagement.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
Prevailing responses to digital violence against women and girls remain overwhelmingly reactive. We demand justice only after revenge‑porn, doxxing, or cyber‑bullying has already shattered a woman’s livelihood, dignity, or sense of safety. The scale of the crisis is undeniable: globally, between 16-58% of women have experienced some form of online violence, and in Nigeria, 45% of women self‑report digital abuse. Yet our interventions continue to treat symptoms while leaving the systems that enables digital violence unchallenged.
We are holding only one end of the line.
In this blog, Emaediong Akpan argues for a dual approach that confronts both the structural and cultural roots of digital violence. First, we must hold tech platforms and legal systems accountable for the architectures that make abuse easy, anonymous, and viral. Second, we must rethink how we prepare and support the next generation, beginning with digital literacy from childhood. This is not about shifting responsibility to users; it is about building collective resilience against the weaponized shame that underpins digital abuse. When we meet survivors with belief, care, and solidarity, we disrupt the culture of silence and return shame to its rightful place — with abusers and the systems that protect them.
Photo Credit: UN Women
Beyond Reactions
Nearly half of the world’s women and girls, have no legal protection from digital violence. The uncomfortable truth in our fight for digital safety is that we are often act after the fact. There is an overwhelming number of safety nets: legal, social, psychological, designed to ‘protect’ women and girls after they have experienced harm in digital spaces. However, according to Amnesty International, 76% of women report altering their online behavior due to abuse. This statistic reveals the limitation of our reactionary approach. We are treating the consequences of digital violence but failing to confront the architecture that exposes women and girls to harm. Our reactionary approach, though vital, is a partial victory at best, it means holding one end of the line. My call is to extend our hands and hold both ends.
The reactionary approach operates after the fact, after the harm has been done. It fails to confront the underlying issue: a digital ecosystem that is engineered through its architecture, business model and algorithms to facilitate and profit from such harm. To address digital violence against women and girls, we must adopt a dual-approach. This approach requires us to hold the line of platform accountability on one hand while engaging in foundational prevention rooted in early digital literacy and communal care on the other.
Understanding the Impact of Digital Violence on Women’s Participation in Public Life
Globally, 16-58% of women have experience online violence. In Nigeria, 45% of women self-report experiencing digital violence, with girls aged 12-17 and young women up to 35 being targeted.85% of women globally have witnessed digital violence such as cyberbullying, false and misleading smear campaigns, doxxing, image and text-based threats, and more. Although the forms of digital violence vary, the motive remains the same: to shame, silence, and exclude women and girls from public life. Below I explain the impact of two particularly insidious forms.
Cyber-Stalking:Research indicates that an estimated 7.5 million people have experienced cyberstalking, demonstrating that anyone with a smartphone, social-media or GPS-enabled device is vulnerable. Data from domestic violence programs in multiple countries indicates that 71-85% of domestic violence perpetrators use technology from smartphones and GPS to spyware, to stalk, monitor and threaten survivors. The intimate violence of the physical world now follows women into every digital space, collapsing any boundary between public and private life.
I use “digital violence” throughout this blog because it is conceptually encompassing. It captures not only the act of violence (harassment, doxing) but also the structural nature of the harm. It points to a violent digital environment shaped by the algorithmic amplification of harm and the prioritization of engagement/virality over safety. Digital violence as a concept draws attention to the platform not as a neutral mirror of gender-based violence offline but as an active participant in these acts of violence.
Holding Platforms and Systems Accountable
Our response ought to begin with the platforms whose digital architectures are designed to maximize ‘engagement’ irrespective of whether these engagements are driven by joy, outrage or hatred. The algorithms reward inflammatory contents with increased visibility, providing a fertile ground for digital violence to thrive. In adopting this approach, we must move beyond reactive content moderation to safety-by-design principles that places the responsibility on these platforms to mitigate systemic risks, including gender-based violence.
Our laws should specifically criminalize forms of digital violence including but not limited to cyber-stalking, disinformation, revenge porn, and doxxing. Although the Nigerian Violence Against Persons Prohibition Act 2015 is a good starting point, its effective application to address digital violence requires both amendment and judicial activism. The Act currently lacks explicit provisions for image-based sexual abuse, cyber-stalking, and platform liability. Courts must be willing to interpret existing provisions broadly while legislators work to close these gaps. We need legal frameworks that recognize the unique harms of digital violence—its permanence, its viral spread, its capacity to follow victims across every platform and into every space.
Digital Literacy as a Complimentary Strategy
Preventive approaches have been critiqued —often rightly for placing the responsibility on potential victims while absolving platforms of responsibility. My suggested approach does not absolve platforms of their responsibility. Rather, I argue that building communal resilience is not a parallel response but a complimentary strategy in this fight against digital violence. Even in a utopia with perfectly regulated platforms, harm can exist. The goal is to change the social and psychological terrain on which these attacks land.
Fostering a child’s critical consciousness does not excuse a platforms toxic design; it can help mitigate the effect of that design. This is the inoculation I speak of, is not against infection, but against the shame that digital violence weaponizes. Where young girls and women have the nonjudgmental support of their community, it becomes harder to manipulate them into feeling shame and equips them to identify, and resist abusive dynamics.
Building Communal Resilience from the Cradle
Today’s children are digital natives in a profound sense. Globally, one in three internet users is a child. In high-income countries, 60% of children use the internet by age five. In Africa, with the world’s youngest population and smartphone adoption surpassing 50%, children are primary users of family devices, entering complex digital publics with little to no guidance. This strategy ought to begin with digital literacy.
Critical consciousness from early childhood: Teaching children to question what they see online, who benefits from this content? Who might be harmed? Why is this being shown to me? This is media literacy adapted for an algorithmic age.
Bodily autonomy and consent: Children need to understand they have the right to set boundaries online, to say no to requests for images or information, and that consent given under pressure is not consent at all. These conversations must happen before children encounter coercion, not after.
Trusted adult networks: Every child should be able to identify at least two adults they can turn to if something online makes them uncomfortable or afraid. This requires adults who respond without panic, judgment, or punishment, a significant cultural shift in many contexts.
Community response models: When digital violence occurs, the community’s response matters as much as the legal one. Schools, religious institutions, and community organizations must be prepared to support survivors with unwavering belief rather than interrogation, with resources rather than blame. In Nigeria, organizations like the International Federation of Women Lawyers,Feminist Coalition, and StandToEndRape have pioneered such models, but they need to become the norm, not the exception.
The evidence supports this approach. In Finland, where comprehensive digital literacy has been integrated into education since 2014, young people report higher confidence in identifying misinformation and manipulation online. In South Korea, where digital citizenship education is mandatory, rates of cyber-bullying have declined even as internet usage has increased. Nigeria has the capacity to develop contextually grounded approaches that respond to our specific realities of digital violence.
Conclusion: Holding Both Ends of the Line
The fight against digital violence is a struggle for the future of public space, discourse, and democracy itself. A singular focus on post-harm justice, while morally imperative, is strategically incomplete. It addresses the symptoms but does not prepare the next-generation for these realities. We must confront digital violence by contesting the exploitative architectures of platforms and by building a critically conscious population from the cradle. This dual-approach is critical in this moment.
We must confront digital violence by contesting the exploitative architectures of platforms while simultaneously building a critically conscious population from the cradle. We must demand that platforms redesign their systems for safety while teaching young people to navigate these systems with critical awareness. We must prosecute abusers while building communities that refuse to shame survivors. This dual approach is not a compromise, it is recognition that structural change and cultural transformation must advance together. One end of the line without the other leaves us perpetually playing catch-up, counting casualties, offering comfort after the fact.
It is time to hold both ends of the line. Our children are counting on it.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the author:
Emaediong Akpan is a legal practitioner and an alumna of the International Institute of Social Studies. With extensive experience in the development sector, her work spans gender equity, social inclusion, and policy advocacy. She is also interested in exploring the intersections of law, technology, and feminist policy interventions to promote safer digital environments. Read her blogs here: 1,2, 3, 4,5
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
Sexual violence response systems rely on a workforce of caregivers who bear witness to trauma daily. Yet, the vicarious trauma eroding these responders’ wellbeing is dangerously overlooked. Drawing on her personal frontline experience, Emaediong Akpan argues that caring for survivors is impossible without caring for those who serve them.
Photo Credit: Unsplash
Bearing Witness in a Broken System
Drawing on my professional experience in sexual violence response, I have encountered two parallel realities. The first is the survivor’s journey marked by courage, fragmented by institutional demands, and too often complicated secondary victimization—the trauma inflicted by the very systems meant to provide justice. The second, less visible reality is that of the responders: the advocates, nurses, law enforcement officers, and counselors who absorb these narratives daily.
Across different roles, a common experience is a deep sense of professional and personal isolation. Many legal professionals, for instance, describe a deep conflict between the rigid demands of procedure and the human impulse to offer comfort, leaving them feeling like instruments of a process rather than agents of care. This profound alienation is not a personal failing; it is a structural byproduct of work that demands profound empathy while offering inadequate structural support.
During the 16 Days of Activism Against Gender-Based Violence, our discourse rightly centers survivor voices and systemic accountability. However, I argue that this discourse remains critically incomplete if it does not also address the vicarious trauma permeating the response workforce. This is not about shifting focus from survivors, but about recognizing a fundamental truth: a system that consumes its caregivers is a system destined to fail those it seeks to serve. Neglecting the responder’s wellbeing is a direct, measurable detriment to survivor care, addressing it becomes a non-negotiable pillar of gender justice.
Beyond Burnout, Toward Transformation
To understand the true nature of this crisis, we must move beyond everyday words like “stress” or “burnout.” The core psychological hazard for trauma workers is vicarious trauma (VT). Grounded in seminal work by McCann and Pearlman, VT is understood as a cumulative and transformative process. It is not simply about feeling tired or sad. Rather, it is the profound, often permanent, change in a helper’s own inner world, their beliefs, memories, and sense of self, that results from repeatedly and empathetically engaging with the traumatic material of those they serve.
The key mechanism is the disruption of what psychologists call cognitive schemas. These are our most basic psychological frameworks, our deep-seated beliefs about safety, trust, esteem, intimacy, and control. Vicarious trauma forces these frameworks to change. Repeated exposure to traumatic stories creates a confrontation that our existing worldview can’t absorb. To cope, the mind is forced to rebuild its understanding of reality, leading to a profound shift: the helper’s worldview itself can become more pessimistic, fearful, and fragile.
This is what makes VT different. It’s not the same as compassion fatigue (which is the wearing down of your empathy) or burnout (which is general exhaustion from work stress). While those conditions are about depletion, VT is about alteration. It does not just tire you out; it can fundamentally and lastingly change how you see the world and your place in it.
The Perfect Storm: How Sexual Violence Work Fuels Vicarious Trauma
The nature of sexual violence response doesn’t just risk vicarious trauma, it actively creates the ideal conditions for it to take root and thrive. It is defined by a double exposure that sets it apart.
First, there is the chronic, cumulative exposure to traumatic material. Survivors are often caught in a relentless “testimonial spiral,” required to narrate their assault repeatedly, to police, medical examiners, prosecutors, and multiple counselors. Each time they narrate their experiences even though procedurally necessary, it is psychologically costly, forcing the responder to bear witness to graphic, intimate details of violence not once, but over and over again.
Second, and just as negatively impactful, is the exposure to systemic and procedural betrayal. We are not just witnesses to the original trauma. We become firsthand observers of how institutions can fail survivors: through skeptical questioning informed by rape myths, invasive forensic exams with little psychosocial support, and the devastating attrition of cases through plea bargains or dismissal. This generates more than empathy; it creates moral injury, the profound distress that comes from witnessing actions that violate our core sense of justice and ethics. The helper is thus traumatized by both the client’s story and the system’s failure.
This ‘perfect storm’ is intensified by the composition of the workforce. The victim services sector is predominantly female, reflecting the broader gendered landscape of care work. Furthermore, it includes a significant number of survivors who enter the field through a validated ‘survivor-to-survivor’ model of advocacy,a testament to the movement’s grassroots origins that value lived experience as expertise. While this brings profound empathy and insight, scholars note it also layers personal vulnerability onto professional exposure, a combination that is too rarely met with the robust structural safeguards it demands.
The Architecture of Neglect: Systemic Drivers of Vicarious Trauma
It is important to note that VT is not an accidental outcome; it is manufactured by systemic failures across multiple levels.
a. The Political Economy of Care Work
Victim services are notoriously underfunded, relying on precarious grants and charitable funding. This translates into low salaries, high caseloads, and chronic understaffing, conditions directly correlated with VT severity. Workers, often women, are asked to perform emotionally extreme labour with economic precarity, a classic example of the gendered devaluation of care.
b. Institutional Illiteracy
Many criminal justice and healthcare institutions lack trauma-informed organizational practices. Supervision is often administrative, not clinical or reflective. There are rarely protocols for routine psychological debriefing, caseload management to prevent saturation, or mandated “cool-down” periods between intense cases. New, younger advocates, those most vulnerable to secondary traumatic stress, are frequently thrown into the deep end without adequate mentorship (as highlighted in my own training materials).
c. Cultural Stigma and the “Strong Helper”
Especially within masculinized domains like law enforcement, a culture of stoicism prevails. Help-seeking is stigmatized as weakness, with legitimate fears about confidentiality breaches and career repercussions. Studies indicate that a majority of first responders are reluctant to seek support due to perceived professional risks. The culture of stoicism, particularly in criminal justice roles, stigmatizes help-seeking. People fear being seen as weak or unfit, forcing distress underground and often leading to maladaptive coping mechanisms like substance use.
d. Professional Isolation and Erasure
Those in roles like victim advocacy, often situated uneasily between community and court, can experience “trauma hierarchy,” where their exposure is minimized compared to “first responders.” This lack of validation exacerbates feelings of isolation and invisibility, stripping away a protective sense of shared purpose.
e. The Inevitable Consequence: Compromised Survivor Care
My argument is that the systemic production of VT is not merely an occupational health issue. It actively degrades the quality and ethics of survivor services.
Attrition of Expertise: Vicarious trauma is a primary driver of high turnover. When a skilled, trauma-informed advocate burns out and leaves, survivors lose continuity, a relationship of trust is severed, and institutional memory evaporates. This constant churn keeps organizations in a state of novice crisis, unable to develop deep expertise.
The Erosion of Empathetic Capacity: Compassion fatigue, a precursor or companion to VT, manifests as detachment, cynicism, and emotional numbing. A responder struggling with these symptoms cannot provide the authentic, patient, and validating presence that trauma recovery requires. Interactions become transactional, potentially replicating the impersonal harm of secondary victimization.
Impaired Judgment and Ethical Risk: VT’s cognitive disruptions, hypervigilance, pervasive pessimism, disrupted boundaries, can lead to clinical errors, inappropriate self-disclosure, or burnout-driven shortcuts in care. Pearlman & Saakvitne (1995) warn that unaddressed VT can lead to boundary violations, where the helper’s own unmet needs distort the therapeutic relationship.
The Silencing of Advocacy: A responder drowning in unprocessed trauma loses the energy for systemic advocacy. The fight to change oppressive policies, challenge rape myths in court, or secure better resources requires a reserve of righteous anger and hope. VT depletes that reserve, creating a workforce that is too exhausted to challenge the very systems that harm both them and their clients.
In summary, a workforce without proper support becomes a fragile system designed to carry immense weight but lacks the reinforcement to do so safely or indefinitely. Because it cannot sustainably hold the weight of survivor trauma, and it will inevitably fracture, with survivors bearing the consequences of the collapse.
Toward a New Paradigm: From Individual Self-Care to Structural Accountability
The common prescription of “self-care” places the burden of resilience on the individual, obscuring the systemic origins of the harm. We must demand a shift toward “system-care” and structural accountability.
Mandate and Fund Psychological Infrastructure: This must be a budget line, not a perk. Agencies need embedded, confidential mental health services specializing in trauma-exposed professions. Funding bodies must tie grants to the existence of realistic caseload limits, competitive salaries, and wellness protocols.
Implement Trauma-Informed Supervision: Replace purely administrative oversight with reflective, clinically-informed supervision that normalizes discussion of VT, provides strategies for cognitive integration, and safeguards boundaries. Models like that proposed by Harrison & Westwood (2009) have shown efficacy in reducing VT.
Dismantle Stigma Through Leadership: Institutional leaders must model vulnerability and help-seeking. Peer support programs, with rigorous confidentiality safeguards, can create culturally-competent spaces for processing within the workforce itself.
Integrate Resilience into Training: Education for responders must begin before first contact with survivors. Training should include psychoeducation on VT, grounding techniques, boundary-setting skills, and clear pathways to support, framing resilience as a core professional competency.
Conclusion: My Call for an Unbreakable Chain of Justice
As we concluded the 16 Days of Activism , we must commit to a more holistic vision of justice. The fight against gender-based violence is fought on multiple fronts: in the courtroom, the hospital, the therapist’s office, and the advocate’s office desk. These fronts are connected by people. If the people on the front lines of care are being psychologically depleted by the very structure of that care, we have designed a self-defeating system.
Caring for survivors and ensuring the wellbeing of those who care for them are inseparable goals.They represent two halves of a single ethical imperative. We cannot build a survivor-centered response on the broken well-being of the workforce. Investing in the resilience of responders, through funding, institutional change, and cultural shift, is not a diversion from survivor justice. It is the most pragmatic investment we can make in its sustainability and quality.
The witness who is heard, the advocate who can stay present, the nurse who maintains compassion, the officer who conducts a trauma-informed interview, these are not just individuals doing a job. They are the living, breathing infrastructure of a just response. It is time we built that infrastructure to last.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts solely reflects the views of the author of the post in question.
About the author:
Emaediong Akpan is a legal practitioner and an alumna of the International Institute of Social Studies. With extensive experience in the development sector, Emaediong Akpan’s work spans gender equity, social inclusion, and policy advocacy. She is also interested in exploring the intersections of law, technology, and feminist policy interventions to promote safer digital environments. Read her blogs here: 1,2, 3, 4.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
International law has an incredible potential to be the vehicle through which global transgender liberation is realized. In this reflective blog, Paxton McCausland argues that international law is already being used to improve the quality of life for transgender peoples across the world. Sadly however, this dream will never be fully accomplished with the continuation of horrific impunity.
As an American grassroots organizer for transgender liberation, I never envisioned myself becoming interested in or even inspired by law. During my undergraduate education, in which I studied Political Science, I took a Constitutional Law class and was deflated, disappointed and bored. American constitutional law has very few safeguards for transgender individuals and the Supreme Court, in its present composition at least, is generally hopeless. Having completed several unpaid internships with politicians who used my work without crediting me, I began to understand that American politics were not for me. My despondent view of the law changed when I began to learn about international law in graduate school.
It turns out that international law has incredible potential to realize and spread transgender liberation. While there are several forms of international law, all with their own guidelines, concepts and modalities, in this blog post I will use a broad definition, meaning that the points I make do not align with one specific form of international law. Additionally, I must establish that I am not an international lawyer, but rather merely a liberation nerd, endlessly excited by the potential of international law. That being said, international law not only contains an actual definition of gender, it also contains radical promotion of self-determination, a concept I had never heard of within the domestic law of my own nation. Both the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights and the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights, major tenants within the international human rights law, begin with the phrase ‘All peoples have the right of self-determination’. Self-determination as transgender liberation, as I have understood it in my background as a trans organizer, advocates for an individual to understand and decide for themselves who they are and what is best for them. In theory, the ultimate expression of transgender liberation is the truest expression of self-determination. This incredible tool for international trans liberation, however, cannot reach its full potential while blatant impunity against war crimes and continuous double standards for the worst and most powerful offenders continues. In a very obvious example, the United States has been protecting Israel from punishment, as well as allowing the country’s many war crimes and crimes against humanity, such as the blatant encouragement of illegal Israeli settlements, to continue with impunity for decades via the UNSC veto power and other such methods. The longer this impunity continues, the weaker international law becomes. I would even go so far as to say that the future of international transgender liberation rests on the protection and sanctity of international law, and therefore the end of such impunity.
International law has already begun to benefit and protect transgender, gender-non-conforming, nonbinary and Indigenous third gender peoples throughout the world. Despite a somewhat problematic definition of gender within the Rome Statute, which confuses sex and gender, the International Criminal Court established the understanding that gender is socially constructed as an international law standard through the Office of the Prosecutor’s Policy on the Crime of Gender Persecution. For more information on the debate regarding the definition of gender in international law, I encourage readers to engage with Alexandra Lily Kather and Juliana Santos de Carvalho’s brilliant article on the subject. As mentioned above, international law’s standard of the concept and promotion of self-determination is extremely helpful in establishing transgender people’s right to gender-affirming care and ability to self-identify. Many scholars, such as B. Camminga, advocate for trans folk’s right to legal gender recognition (LGR), or accurate depiction of an individual’s gender identity on legal documents, on the basis of self-determination alone. In arguing for LGR on this basis, requirements for trans people to ‘prove’ their gender identity (refer to the Camminga article linked above), through costly, cumbersome, invasive and harmful medical diagnosis or bottom surgery, a form of reproductive violence and forced sterilization, are rendered unnecessary. In the unfortunate situation in which a trans person has a well-founded fear of persecution based on their membership to a particular social group – the trans community – international law grants them, via the 1951 Refugee Convention, refugee status and allows them to apply for asylum. The international law principle of non-refoulement states that it is prohibited for these individuals to be sent back to their countries of origin if their return would most likely result in a serious threat to their life or freedom. These are a few of the ways international law is already working toward transgender liberation.
Given these standards of international law and the enormous potential of this type of law to realize transgender liberation, it is imperative that all roadblocks to its success be eliminated. We cannot tackle the toughest battles until the means by which the battles can be fought are working as they were intended to. Liberation builds on itself – at a macro and micro level, we are all fighting the same battle for liberation. As such, protecting international law not only ensures the protection and safety of trans and gender-non-conforming individuals, today and tomorrow, but it additionally ensures protections of rights for everyone. By battling impunity, we are allowing trans people, Palestinians, Sudanese, Royhinga, Yadzidi and everyone to live full and dignified lives everywhere.
They say the future of international law is domestic law. Given this adage, it is my greatest hope that one day I can see the laws in my own country reflect those that protect my people through international law. At that point, with my ultimate life and career goal being international transgender liberation, I will be able to die happy. Protect international law. Protect the International Criminal Court. The liberation of transgender peoples and of all peoples depends on it.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the author:
Paxton McCausland
Paxton McCausland (he/they) is an organizer and academic who began working toward gender justice as a grassroots organizer for transgender liberation. They were recently appointed as a board member for the Women’s Initiatives for Gender Justice and received a Master of International Affairs from the School of International and Public Affairs. Paxton currently resides in Pennsylvania.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
International criminal law has made remarkable progress in recognizing gender-based crimes, yet conviction rates alone cannot capture the meaning of justice for survivors. In this blog, Abubakar Muhammad Jibril draws on the Gender Justice in International Criminal Law Conference to argue that genuine gender justice must be reimagined through survivors’ lived experiences—centering healing, dignity, and accountability beyond the courtroom.
Over the past two decades, international criminal law (ICL) has evolved to acknowledge sexual and gender-based violence (SGBV) as crimes of the gravest concern. From the landmark Akayesu judgment of the ICTR, which recognized rape as an act of genocide, to the Rome Statute’s explicit listing of sexual slavery, enforced pregnancy and other forms of sexual violence, progress has been undeniable. Yet despite these achievements, the lived experiences of many survivors reveal a different reality. During the Gender Justice in International Criminal Law Conference, several participants echoed a powerful truth: a conviction does not automatically equate to justice. Survivors often remain unseen, unheard and unsupported in the aftermath of trials. Many return to communities where stigma and silence persist, where reparations are delayed and where their suffering is reduced to a footnote in legal history. This paradox between legal recognition and lived reality lies at the heart of why gender justice remains incomplete.
The epistemic gap in International Criminal Law
ICL, by design, privileges evidence, procedure and precedent. It asks: What can be proved? Who can be held responsible? Yet for survivors of gender-based crimes, justice often depends on questions the law cannot fully answer: How can I heal? Who believes me? Will my story change anything? This epistemic gap between legal knowledge and experiential truth reflects a deeper structural limitation. The courtroom, though vital, cannot capture the emotional, social and cultural dimensions of gendered harm. The narratives of survivors are frequently filtered through lawyers, investigators and judges, transformed into ‘admissible evidence’ rather than lived testimonies of pain and resilience. As feminist scholars like Catharine MacKinnon and Fionnuala Ní Aoláin have argued, law can recognize sexual violence without truly listening to survivors. This dissonance risks turning gender justice into a symbolic victory rather than a transformative one.
From criminalization to transformation
At the conference, one speaker remarked that international tribunals have been more successful in criminalizing gender-based crimes than in transforming the conditions that enable them. This distinction is crucial. Criminalization ensures accountability for perpetrators, but transformation demands more: it requires dismantling the patriarchal, cultural and institutional structures that make such crimes possible in the first place. Survivors do not merely seek punishment; they seek recognition, healing and inclusion in rebuilding their societies. For instance, the Trust Fund for Victims under the International Criminal Court (ICC) has provided symbolic reparations, but survivors repeatedly stress the need for collective and community-based remedies, access to education, psychological care, economic empowerment and public acknowledgment. These are not mere add-ons to justice; they are justice itself.
Centring survivors’ voices: towards participatory justice
Reimagining gender justice means shifting from a courtroom-centred model to a survivor-centred one. Survivors must not only testify; they must shape the process. Participatory justice approaches already piloted in certain post-conflict societies offer valuable lessons. In Sierra Leone, Rwanda and Uganda, survivor networks have played pivotal roles in truth-telling and community reconciliation. Their initiatives illustrate that justice becomes meaningful when survivors help define their goals and outcomes. As discussed in several conference panels, integrating psychosocial support, trauma-informed procedures and culturally sensitive reparations into ICL processes could bridge the gap between law and lived experience.
The politics of recognition
Gender justice cannot be disentangled from global hierarchies of power. Many survivors come from the Global South, yet international criminal processes are dominated by Northern institutions and perspectives. This imbalance shapes not only whose stories are heard but also how justice is defined. To move beyond symbolic inclusion, international mechanisms must decolonize their approaches, valuing local knowledges, community healing practices and indigenous forms of accountability. Justice cannot be exported; it must be co-created with those who have suffered most. A decolonial feminist approach to ICL thus requires more than reforming procedure; it demands rethinking the very epistemology of justice from punishment-centred to person-centred, from institutional legitimacy to human dignity.
Reclaiming the meaning of justice
The conference’s closing sessions were marked by a shared realization: while legal frameworks are essential, they are not sufficient. The future of gender justice lies not only in how courts punish crimes but in how societies restore humanity after harm. For survivors, justice is not measured in verdicts but in voices being heard, believed and healed. It is in communities that refuse to silence them, in policies that empower them and in histories that finally honour their truths. International criminal law must therefore evolve from a reactive to a restorative paradigm, one that integrates legal accountability with social repair, trauma healing and long-term prevention. Only then can justice be both legal and lived.
Conclusion
As scholars, practitioners and advocates, we must move beyond celebrating convictions to asking harder questions: Whose justice? For whom? At what cost? The survivors who continue to rebuild their lives after unimaginable violence remind us that justice is not a verdict; it is a process of human restoration. The future of gender justice in international criminal law depends on whether we can truly listen to the people for whom justice was meant to serve.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the author:
Abubakar Muhammad Jibril is a legal researcher and LLM candidate specializing in human rights law, with a focus on women’s and children’s rights, gender-based violence and international human rights frameworks. His work integrates comparative legal analysis across diverse jurisdictions, exploring the intersections of law, culture and religion, particularly within Islamic legal traditions. Abubakar’s research aims to promote equitable legal reforms and deepen the scholarly understanding of justice, dignity and protection for vulnerable groups worldwide.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
Since the first recognition of conflict-related sexual violence (CRSV) by the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY) in its jurisprudenceFurundžija) to the recognition of gender as a ground for persecution by the International Criminal Court[para 936], International Criminal Law (ICL) has increasingly addressed CRSV, but there is still a long way to go. Inspired by the ICL Conference on Gender Justice and through the application of a feminist and intersectional lens, Katerina Lefkidou examines current challenges in addressing CRSV in Ukraine.
Conflict Related Sexual Violence (CRSV) in Ukraine
As CRSV increasingly calls for accountability mechanisms shaped through converging feminist, intersectional, and survivor-centered approaches, Ukraine appears to be a State that is at least willing to listen. With the adoption of Law 4067-IX in 2025, which provides CRSV survivors with interim reparations, and through the development of new Standard Operating Procedures (SOPs) for the investigation and prosecution of CRSV, some steps are being taken in the right direction. However, a closer look shows that many issues remain unsolved. Since the full-scale invasion in February 2022, 385 CRSV investigations have been opened by the Ukrainian Office of the Prosecutor General, with 21 individuals convicted. Other international actors report higher numbers, which keep rising. However, these 21 convictions (mainly direct perpetrators), are a result of approximately 10 cases, which is quite low considering the reported figures.
Two main situations have been identified where CRSV has been systematically used by Russian forces throughout the conflict: 1) during house searches or forced visits carried out in occupied areas, and 2) as a form of torture against individuals detained, both civilians and prisoners of war (POWs), in “filtration points” and official/unofficial detention facilities. In the first case, most victims are women and girls; in the latter, the majority of survivors have been men [para 47]. Nevertheless, only cases of CRSV concerning women and girls have reached decisions in criminal proceedings. CRSV has been especially prevalent against Ukrainian POWs; 119 out of the 169 interviewed by the United Nations Human Rights Monitoring Mission in Ukraine reported having experienced CRSV [para 30].
Challenges in reporting CRSV in Ukraine and gender roles
According to the International Independent Commission of Inquiry on Ukraine, CRSV is under-reported in the conflict, and survivors are reluctant to speak out due to gender stereotypes, religious and family considerations, and stigma, especially in rural areas [para 630]. Incidents have been reported where survivors were treated disrespectfully by authorities and then consequently withdrew their complaints [para 93]. The recently launched platform “Було так” (“It Happened This Way”) created by Ukrainian Women Lawyers Association “JurFem” for survivors to share their experiences, particularly with law enforcement, also indicates the urgency of this problem. Further, survivors have even fled their home or even the country due to fear of stigma and blame from close ones and broader society, or reprisals from the Russian authorities. Additional obstacles include the harmful re-enforcement of gender stereotypes and stigma in CRSV media coverage [paras 630-636].
Bias shaped through gender roles—such as the culture of victim blaming, which especially affects women—has emerged in various examples. In Bucha, a woman who was raped by Russian soldiers to prevent the rape of her 13-year old daughter, later faced stigmatization and was even investigated for collaboration with the Russian forces. The gender paradigm shapes the stigma for male survivors, too. As reported by the All Survivors Project, Ukrainian culture often depicts men as defenders and fighters. Acts of CRSV challenge this sense of masculinity, making men less likely to disclose their trauma for fear it will be perceived as a sign of “weakness,” incompatible with traditional gender expectations. According to the Commission of Inquiry, men are more inclined to report torture without the sexual aspects [para 632]. Gender stereotypes also influence investigators, who frequently do not ask questions about potential CRSV when interviewing male victims of violence. Social perception of sexual identity is also relevant. The Russian Federation has exploited the cultural prejudice against LGBTQI+ people by actively seeking out LGBTQI+ people as targets of CRSV, and by systematically employing CRSV against non LGBTQI+ males. Consequently, male survivors of CRSV are branded as “weak” and “unnatural”, not in line with the role of “strong, straight, cisgender male.”
Intersectional dimension of CRSV
As long established by feminist theory, sexual violence is not an expression of sexual desire, but a means of conveying dominance, relying on the enforcement of rigidly defined gender roles. Furthermore, it is rooted in structural inequalities, and gender is not the only relevant variable. Socioeconomic status, for example, plays a key role in the commission, reporting, investigation, prosecution, and outcome of CRSV cases. Engagement with accountability mechanisms is only possible if basic needs of survivors are covered [para 634]. Poverty enhances vulnerability; survivors have often endured CRSV as a means for survival and may not even be able to identify that what has happened to them may qualify as CRSV. An example presents the experience of a woman in Kherson province, who, during the Russian occupation, moved in with a man for safety and protection. He instead exploited her and ultimately facilitated her rape by Russian soldiers.
Conclusion
A clear understanding of how gender norms, and other underlying factors of discrimination are manifested in Ukrainian society is paramount in order to fully address CRSV perpetrated in Ukraine. As reiterated throughout the conference, advancing gender justice requires holistic policy reforms that go beyond supporting domestic justice and include education and awareness efforts around gender bias aimed at collective societal change. Further, many survivors still require support to come forward and, ultimately, seek justice. It is vital that Ukraine continues its efforts in this area to pursue accountability for the full scope of CRSV crimes resulting from the Russian occupation and the ongoing armed conflict.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the author:
Katerina Lefkidou
Katerina Lefkidou holds an LL.M. in International Human Rights Law from the University of Groningen. Her research interests include themes such as gender justice, equality and reproductive rights. She is a qualified lawyer, registered with the Athens Bar Association.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
This blog post is based on the keynote speech delivered by Michelle Jarvis at the Gender Justice in International Criminal Law Conference, held on 29–30 September 2025 in The Hague, the Netherlands. The event was organized in partnership with the Gender Justice Practitioner Hub, Women’s Initiatives for Gender Justice, Legal Action Worldwide, the Legal Mobilization Platform and the International Institute of Social Studies.
In this blog, Jarvis emphasizes that achieving true gender justice in international criminal law requires transforming not only the outcomes of justice processes but also the deep gender structures that operate both within societies and within the institutions responsible for delivering justice.The views expressed are Jarvis’ personal views and do not necessarily reflect the views of the IIIM-Syria or the United Nations.
Between 2023 and 2024, I followed the scoping phase for the Gender Justice Practitioner (GJP) Hub – funded by the Australian Government and implemented by Legal Action Worldwide. It was an unprecedented opportunity to consult practitioners around the world working on accountability for international crimes. Over 18 months, nine regional roundtables and dozens of expert interviews, we reached more than 800 practitioners. We asked some pressing questions about the blockages they face, what would help them the most and how we, as a field of practice, can strengthen overall gender justice outcomes.
One thing was seared on my mind from the discussions: the hunger across our field of practice for connection, solidarity and support – within and across, the national, regional and international levels.
As a practitioner working on accountability mandates over the past 25 years, I knew from my own experience the sense of disconnection inside our individual institutions, due in part to the ad hoc nature of this work. But I was stunned by the depth of the sentiment expressed about the emotional toll on practitioners and our collective alarm over hard-fought gains being eroded in a heartbeat.
Now we find ourselves here, in September 2025, in a world riddled with escalating attacks on the very principle of gender equality, unabashed efforts to dominate people and populations and unprecedented pressure on our ever-more fragile institutions. Still, we have to be honest about the historical shortcomings embedded in our institutions – from a gender perspective and from many other perspectives as well. But, after-all, the cracks are where the light gets in. We can choose to see this as a time of opportunity.
Three key considerations may guide us to move in this direction. The first thing is getting clarity on the vision of the world we want to see. Daring to speak it out loud – if we can do so safely. And when that is not possible, finding other ways to direct our energy to it. Creating a collective narrative that can help us shape our reality. We need a new imagining of humanity, to counter the mounting and alarmingly effective narratives of domination, separation, division and greed.
And perhaps we need to go back to basics. The vision of the world that I would like to see can be very simply stated: peaceful, flourishing communities, living within planetary environmental boundaries. Surely that is at least a starting point we can all agree on?
But how do we move in that direction? For me, one urgent piece of the puzzle is repairing and rebuilding communities torn apart by conflict-related atrocities. I have spent most of my career grappling with the role that justice plays in this process.
Of course, if we achieve this vision of peaceful, flourishing communities, there will be no more atrocities and no need for justice processes to address them. Perhaps we should dare to set a bold target as part of our vision – ‘in 20 years’ time, justice processes for atrocity crimes will be obsolete’.
If we were to take up a challenge like that for atrocity crimes, we have some deep thinking to do about what our justice processes need to deliver to truly help repair and rebuild communities. We say ‘no peace without justice’. But what kind of justice? We need justice processes that expose and condemn the structural drivers of atrocity crimes, to help us dismantle them.
We see flecks of this thinking embedded in the design of our international criminal law frameworks. Some provisions were specifically developed to expose certain discriminatory drivers of crimes, such as race, ethnicity, nationality, politics and religion. However, gendered structures have not, historically, been recognised. Although we have made some progress with the Rome Statute’s recognition of gender persecution, we have been very slow to apply this provision and, so far, the results are sparse.
Overall, we have struggled to address the structural elements of gender in international criminal law, despite their pervasive role in driving crimes; exacerbating the impact of conflict-related harms; and then silencing the voices of victims and survivors and blocking their access to justice.
Our focus has largely been confined to addressing some of the gendered consequences of conflict, particularly conflict-related sexual violence. We have not really begun to grapple with the structural underpinnings of that violence. Until we do, our justice processes will be a blunt instrument in our toolkit for repairing and rebuilding communities in the aftermath of atrocities. That link between addressing gendered structures in accountability processes and the quest for a more peaceful and flourishing world, needs much more attention. While the gendered drivers of atrocities are not homogenous and static, there are some patterns and we can do better in developing baseline methodologies to tailor for specific contexts. This is something the Hub has on its priority list.
This brings me to the second issue – the need to address the deep gender structures inside our own institutions. Based on the 25 years that I have worked inside international institutions with accountability mandates, one thing is clear: we cannot promote inclusive gender justice without institutions that have a commitment to gender equality embedded in their DNA. We should reject the idea of justice processes that serve only a fraction of the affected community and commit to addressing the imbalance as a core part of our work. To support this, we need institutions that also embody a commitment to gender equality.
This was one of the key insights coming out of the extensive review we did at the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia, which was published as Prosecuting Conflict-Related Sexual Violence at the ICTY. However, since then, we have seen little evidence of meaningful engagement with this challenge. We have seen a flurry of policy frameworks – which is important – but few signs of sustained engagement with the ‘deep structures’ inside our institutions. As a result, we presently have a gulf between our policy frameworks, their implementation in practice and the strengthened gender justice outcomes that we are seeking.
Having worked on this challenge now for many years, I am the first to acknowledge that progress is not easy – and this challenge is not for the faint hearted!
Our institutional systems are highly complex and the deep discriminatory structures embedded in them are very good at re-asserting themselves when challenged. As I watched this process unfold in real time, it sent me scurrying for research that would help me understand the systemic factors at play. What had others experienced and written on this? Joanne Sandler and, in particular, her co-authored book Gender at Work was pivotal in helping me to recognize and articulate what I was seeing up close. The book emphasizes the importance of grappling with the ‘deep gender structures’ inside our institutions: ‘gender policies rarely take on deep structures due to their pervasiveness and the takes time to confront them’ and, I would add, the difficulty of even getting visibility on how they are operating. But we certainly feel them and sometimes hear fragments of them articulated inside our institutions through comments like: ‘We are spending too many resources on gender’; ‘By focusing on crimes experienced by women, we could be seen as biased. It is incompatible with being evidence driven’; and ‘Why does it matter if we have low figures of women as witnesses – that has no impact on the verdicts’.
We need open and honest discussions about these types of concerns. Cultures of silence are one of the most insidious forms of reinforcing biased structures. But how do we know what is a valid concern and what is the discriminatory system re-asserting itself? A good litmus test is the constructiveness with which the concerns are raised and whether the overall trend inside our institutions is to block, or gut, any progress on gender equality.
Inevitably, when entrenched biased structures are challenged, there will be backlash. If we are not experiencing backlash from the implementation of our gender policies, then we have not yet begun to fundamentally change the way that our institutions are functioning. Fiona Mackay sums it up well:
‘We should celebrate as a success cases where the status quo has to…work hard to reproduce itself and has to invest resources and energy in resisting gender change. The need for visible resistance to positive change is a success.’
Along the way, we need to create a better culture of care around the change agents inside our institutions. As we heard during the scoping phase of the Hub, it is tough out there! And in the words of Sandler et al. ‘Personal and professional attacks pile up, especially when success is achieved.’
One of our most significant strategies to date has been the short-term deployment of gender experts to work with accountability mechanisms. This has been an important development to address historical silences. However, we should not view this as a stand-alone strategy. Individuals parachuted into an organization, especially for a short period of time, cannot, alone, tackle the gendered structures that block gender justice both within the communities we serve and inside our own institutions. We also have to be realistic about the pattern of pushback that change agents are likely to experience and be well prepared to support them through the process as a standard part of our strategy.
These systemic issues are focus areas for the Hub. Encouragingly, the Hub has started to receive requests for assistance by some institutional actors now seeking to engage with the challenge, but we can get even more ambitious. It would be great to see all leaders of accountability institutions engaging with the Hub on a collaborative project to strengthen efforts on gender sensitive institution building, starting with those who have already signed up as Gender Champions.
The third issue I want to cover, is the alchemy we could release through better coordination among ourselves as gender justice actors. This aspiration has also been embedded in the vision for the Hub.
We know we need to move outside of our echo chamber. Bringing in all generations to the conversation is an important component of this and sparks genuine optimism that it is possible to achieve the systems change we seek.
Better cross-disciplinary coordination is also key, starting with the silos that currently exist between academia and practitioners. There is so much good work being done within the academic realm, but practitioners rarely have time to follow the developing literature, and often it is too theoretical to be directly translated into practice. It makes a difference when academics working on gender and International Criminal Law issues engage with practitioners and help us translate their insights into practical approaches for our work – and I’m personally grateful to scholars like Judith Gardam, Kirsten Campbell, Gorana Mlinarevic, Susana SáCouto and Lisa Davis.
To conclude, let us return for a moment to the vision I mentioned: peaceful, flourishing communities; effective gender justice to help us repair and rebuild communities torn apart by atrocities; and ultimately, rendering justice processes obsolete.
What would it look like if we threw our collective global might behind this challenge?
Definitely we have some work to do. Even if it feels overwhelming to see how comprehensive change could be achieved, perhaps we can start with focusing on some islands of change.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the authors:
Michelle Jarvis
Michelle Jarvis has worked in the international criminal justice field for 25 years and took up the role of the Deputy Head of the International, Impartial and Independent Mechanism (Syria) (IIIM) in December 2017. Prior to that she was the Deputy to the Prosecutor at the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY) and the Mechanism for International Criminal Tribunals (MICT). Michelle’s work has focused on bringing accountability to victims/survivors of crimes in the Balkans, Rwanda and Syria, as well as building capacity for accountability processes in many other conflict and post conflict areas. Michelle has worked extensively to promote inclusive, innovative and agile approaches to accountability for core international crimes (war crimes, crimes against humanity and genocide), including bringing visibility to the experiences of marginalized groups during accountability processes and strengthening legal responses. She has co-authored two books and numerous articles on the subject of gender and armed conflict. She has initiated an innovative project, supported by the Australian Government, to establish an international Gender Justice Practitioner Hub to promote improved gender justice outcomes globally. Prior to her work in international criminal law, Michelle was a litigator in Australia, where her roles included improving women’s access to justice. Michelle holds a master’s degree in law from the University of Toronto as well as degrees in law and economics from the University of Adelaide.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
This blog is part of a series on ‘the Politics of Food and Technology’, in collaboration with the SOAS Food Studies Centre. All of the blogs in this series are contributions made at the International Humanitarian Studies Association (IHSA) Conference in Istanbul-Bergen, October 2025, to the panel with a similar title. To read the rest of the blogs in this series, please click here.
In this blog, Jeremy Taylor (PhD), Regional Head of Advocacy at the Norwegian Refugee Council, looks at some of the programming issues inherent within a reliance upon (good!) data in the humanitarian space, proposing some points for further discussion and improvement to build a digitally resilient humanitarian system.
Operational INGOs are grappling with two different yet intersecting dynamics. Firstly, the aid system is powered by numbers and, also heavily reliant on accompanying digital platforms for storing and analysing a range of quantitative indicators such as needs analyses, severity indices, caseload targets, and response monitoring frameworks. Secondly, in many frontline contexts the numbers are partial, delayed, politicized—or simply unavailable. When digital systems are fragile or authorities restrict information, our dependence on purely quantitative proof risks excluding the very people we exist to serve.
This is the double-bind the humanitarian industry now inhabits, we are more dependent than ever on quantified proof to allocate, prioritize and report, while the very places that need aid most are increasingly data-poor, data-contested or data-controlled.
Consider Sudan in early 2024. A nationwide communications blackout severed internet and phone networks for tens of millions, stalling assessments, beneficiary verification and even basic security checks. Humanitarian agencies warned operations could not continue without connectivity, and OCHA dashboards logged communications blackouts as a binding constraint across clusters. In a response architecture that assumes constant digital reporting, the data pipeline simply collapsed.
Or Ethiopia in 2021. An effective blockade of the Tigray region meant the ability of aid agencies and the UN to conduct assessments was drastically curtailed. Not only was the humanitarian space significantly impacted by political pressure, but the physical access constraints also carried with them data gaps that could not be plugged. While the Tigrayan authorities claimed there was a famine, the lack of telecoms, fuel and physical access to many parts of the region meant the quantitative data bar for a famine declaration could not be fully met. The episode revealed the need for additional qualitative indicators given how quickly a core evidence channel can be closed. And that the limited international response and accountability mechanisms that do exist, such as the UN Security Council resolution 2417 on the use of starvation as a weapon of war, are ultimately reliant on a credible data-based determination of food insecurity that in this case was not possible to obtain.
Sometimes the choke point is formalized. In Burkina Faso, what began as de facto restrictions has been codified as a visa statistique regime: any survey, census or statistical study must obtain prior authorization from the national institute, with detailed procedures governing approvals. At the same time, public statistics for internally displaced people (IDPs) have not been updated since March 2023, leaving planners to operate against stale baselines they cannot independently refresh. The intent may be order and security; the effect is constrained verification and publication, and ultimately constrained and patchy service delivery.
Compounding this is a second overlaying reality: sweeping budget cuts. By early 2025 the system was told to “hyper-prioritize”—and “do more with less”. In addition to the sweeping cuts by the United States, further reductions are expected from many traditional donors in 2026 and beyond, with few new faces around the OECD DAC table. In this climate, prioritization becomes a requirement for almost all parts of the aid system—and, inevitably, it is determined by the evidence we can marshal. When that evidence is uneven, the risks of mis-prioritization magnify.
For an operational agency, the contradictions show up in small, human ways. We try to distinguish between displaced families and impoverished hosts who share needs indicators. We worry about counting the same person three times as frontlines shift and people are displaced multiple times. We see local authorities nudge figures up to unlock supplies, or down to preserve legitimacy. We sit with community leaders who have learned, over years, which phrases trigger which boxes on which forms. And all the while, the planning machine asks us for clean imputations that field reality does not provide.
All of this leaves us with some questions.
What level of uncertainty are we prepared to accept to save lives? We have become adept at demanding high-frequency, comparable indicators; we are less comfortable acting on imperfect, triangulated signals. Yet places in blackout or under blockade will not produce gold-standard datasets. Are donors and agencies willing to define explicit “no-regrets” thresholds—a ladder of evidence that, once crossed, unlocks time-bound, life-saving response even when the denominator is fuzzy?
How should algorithmic or formula-based allocations treat invisibility? Many institutional donor funding models effectively reward measurable burden and penalize missing data. In a year of cuts, that potentially shifts resources toward where surveillance is strongest, not necessarily where need is greatest. Should allocation formulas include an “uncertainty margin” for data-denied contexts, weighted by independent access analysis and expert consensus, so that lack of visibility does not equal lack of value?
Can we protect impartial analysis space from political veto—without losing the ability to operate? The IPC experience in Ethiopia—and the hyper-contested statistics environment more broadly—shows how easily analysis can be stymied. What minimum guarantees (on methods, publication and dissenting notes) are we, as a system, willing to insist on before we put our logos on a consensus number? And if those guarantees are absent, can we normalize transparent ranges and scenario narratives rather than offering a false precision open to further political manipulation?
Where are our “minimum viable indicators” when digital systems fail? Sudan’s blackout laid bare our dependency on connectivity. What is the offline core data or indicators—two or three proxies per sector—that can be collected safely and quickly, with paper-first redundancies and simple integrity checks, to steer assistance for weeks at a time? If we cannot answer that now, we will keep rediscovering this vulnerability in every conflict with degraded infrastructure and intentional blockages.
How can we include data collection and dissemination as integral to the protection of humanitarian space? The Burkina Faso visa statistique offers a glimpse of a future where data permission is proceduralized as much as physical access – and becomes another indicator in the wider trajectory of tightening humanitarian space.
None of these questions diminish the real gains of the data revolution. Needs overviews are sharper than a decade ago; anticipatory models have prevented suffering; digital platforms allow us to reach more people in more creative ways. But the current equilibrium—absolute dependence on quantified proof in places where proof is systematically degraded—has institutionalized a bias toward the visible. Cuts make that bias costlier. Every time we “hyper-prioritize” using incomplete evidence, we risk reinforcing a hierarchy of suffering determined by data richness rather than human need.
So what does “beyond the numbers” look like for an operational agency? It looks like codifying uncertainty—writing it into proposals, dashboards and board papers, not burying it in footnotes. It looks like donors rewarding honest ranges and scenario-triggered scale-ups. It looks like protecting the independence of analysis even when it is inconvenient, and building redundancies for when the lights go out. Above all, it looks like keeping faith with people who exist whether or not the spreadsheet can currently count them.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the author:
Jeremy Taylor
Jeremy Tayloris the Regional Head of Advocacy at the Norwegian Refugee Council (NRC) covering East and Southern Africa. Based in Nairobi, he collaborates closely with institutional partners and international organizations, and his work links operational complexity to policy solutions in protracted humanitarian and conflict contexts. With a background in research and peacebuilding, his current role encompasses coordinating and leading briefings to inter-agency forums, donors, and the diplomatic community. He holds a PhD from SOAS, University of London.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
In this blog, humanitarian practitioner and researcher Carla Vitantonio reflects on the immediate experiences of people in Cuba affected by the path of Hurricane Melissa, which slowly approached the Caribbean nation in mid-October 2025. As the Hurricane approached Cuba, various (international) NGO, citizen-led, and civil defence preparations were triggered, despite issues with international sanctions and internal bureaucracy. Though regularly battered by tropical storms and hurricanes, the experiences of Cuban people and institutions with Hurricane Melissa reveal some timely developments in the country.
We began observing Melissa on October 21st. It was a tropical storm, one step below hurricane level, according to Saffir-Simpson hurricane wind scale. However, we knew that its slow pace did not bode well, and realized that it wasn’t a matter of predicting whether it would pass through Cuba, but simply of understanding where.
I have been working in disaster risk prevention and management for fifteen years, seven spent in Cuba. I know the protocols and am well aware of my role in a situation like this. I have studied the preparedness system developed by the EMNDC (Estado Mayor de la Defensa Civil) in Cuba, and which many around the world admire. This system has allowed this small country in the Caribbean to survive annual hurricanes and storm seasons since the triumph of the Revolution in 1959.
Yet I live here and know that, beyond the official propaganda and its many detractors, Cuba is no longer what it once was.
Like many, I still sting with the memory of Hurricane Oscar, which devastated eastern Cuba a year ago. Last year, when a colleague from Brussels called me the day before Oscar made landfall in Cuba, to ask if we needed support, I responded with a bit of bravado: “Cubans brush their teeth with a Category 2.” And I was wrong. Even today, a year later, there is no clarity on the number of deaths or the damage caused by Oscar and the human errors that followed, and many believe that the historically efficient Early Warning System failed that time.
I’m not the only one who bitterly remembers October last year, the 3 (for some up to 7) days without electricity, refrigerators left open, as if gutted, while the luckiest ones tried to cook their stored food in an attempt to save at least some of it, the chaos of information and misinformation and the clear feeling, listening to the fragmented accounts of colleagues from the affected areas, that beyond the usual duel between the regime and dissident press, something really hadn’t worked in the preparation and response.
Unfortunately, we were not involved in any learning exercises after the fact: we don’t know whether the Civil Defense analyzed what happened and learned any lessons, nor can we hope to know: living in Cuba means oscillating between a scandal-mongering and delegitimizing press that is mostly funded by the diaspora and quoted by international media, and a state-controlled press, which publishes only sanitized and repackaged news, increasingly detached from what we see every day on the streets.
But let’s go back to October 21st. Melissa’s slow approach allowed everyone to organize. The Civil Defense evacuated approximately 500,000 people. In Cuba, preventive evacuations have historically been managed along two lines: anyone who finds themselves in a situation where they need to leave their homes, first looks to family members nearby living in areas designated as safe by the Civil Defense. Only a small portion go to shelters, which are generally schools temporarily set up as shelters. Cuba’s civilian evacuation mechanism does not allow for individual objections.
Recently, a Cuban doctor that helped interrupt mother-to-child transmission of HIV told me about Cuba’s approach to HIV: “Because in Cuba, the life of every citizen is worth more than anything else. And to save it, we do everything, sometimes without caring whether someone agrees with our methods, or not. As if we had these lives at our disposal.”
I personally experienced the truth of this statement during COVID, when the state, to protect its citizens, imposed measures that would have been deemed unacceptable in many countries around the world. This was done precisely because of this duty to protect, which sometimes goes even beyond recognizing the agency of citizens. Evacuations during hurricane preparations, a painful process in which people are forced to leave behind what is most precious to them, and often even their livelihoods, work in the same way. We must save what is most precious to us: our lives. Everything else can come later.
International Reactions and Preparations
Meanwhile, mindful of the events of 2024, several European donors, including Germany, announced a couple of days before the hurricane hit that they would donate several hundred thousand euros to CERF, the United Nations emergency fund that will most likely handle the response. This is a sign of confidence in multilateralism. Unfortunately, the sixty-years long embargo (unilateral sanctions with extraterritorial effect imposed by the US), combined with the notoriously lengthy and complex internal bureaucracy in Cuba, make it virtually impossible to import any goods in less than three months—an interminable time for those who have lost their homes, and even for those wishing to provide almost immediate relief. And so, we are now witnessing creative appeals from the United Nations urging local entrepreneurs and individuals willing to respond, and who have access to products already on the local market, to come forward and join forces.
Beyond the commendable coordination effort, it is clear that the crisis the humanitarian sector has reached this country too.
Meanwhile, on October 29th, after 24 hours of intense rain and wind, Melissa made landfall as a Category 3 hurricane, hitting the provinces of Holguin, Granma, Santiago, and Guantanamo. The latter two are regions that have become extremely socially and economically impoverished in recent years, and are still struggling following the impact of Hurricane Oscar in 2024. Furthermore, these are the areas of Cuba hardest hit by the deterioration of the national electrical system and the infamous and lengthy apagones, blackouts that last for days, punctuated only by a few hours of power, which now plague the country relentlessly.
This year, the Early Warning System did not fail, and everyone is already prepared: international NGOs have alerted their local partners of the need to gather information as quickly as possible, the United Nations has activated its coordination system, and above all, the Cuban Civil Defense has mobilized the complex network of military and civilian personnel (including the Red Cross) that will handle the response in the hours immediately following Melissa’s passage. Within 24 hours, the hurricane receded, leaving behind destruction and fear, but the consequences continued for days to come: rivers, swollen by the rain, began to overflow their banks on October 31st, especially in the province of Granma, forcing the Civil Defense to launch a massive rescue operation that even included a mass transportation of people by train.
As I write this article, it seems we have emerged from the most critical phase and that we can all deal with the very delicate recovery phase.
What have we learned, as citizens and people involved in disaster preparedness and response?
Times have changed, and the Cuban government is slowly shifting to a different approach: on November 1st, an official gazette formally established that the government would pay 50% of the reconstruction costs for all citizens who need to rehabilitate their homes. We are therefore moving away from the “the state will take care of it” approach, which in recent years had sadly turned into empty rhetoric, given that the state no longer had the resources to handle everything. We are moving toward a supportive approach, where the state recognizes the citizens’ leading role while still striving to offer participation and support. The feasibility and sustainability of this offer remain to be seen.
Beyond the national and international agencies traditionally responsible for response, we need to rely on all those networks of private citizens who, from areas of Cuba less affected by the hurricane and often even from abroad, offer material support and donations. This change in trend began, I recall, with the tornado that hit Havana in 2019. Just a few months earlier, Cubans had gained access to 3G connectivity on their cell phones. Thanks to it, citizen movements rapidly mobilized to provide aid beyond and regardless of the official response.
That climate change is not an opinion, and we must think in terms of systems: for the first time we are witnessing a joint effort by agencies based in different countries (Cuba, Jamaica, Bahamas) to reflect on the impact of the event and combine their energies, not only for the response, but for future preparations.
That climate change is not an opinion (reprise), potentially disastrous events are intensifying in frequency, becoming more unpredictable in nature and, therefore becoming difficult to prepare according to the “business as usual” model.
In short, it would be interesting, beyond the usual ideological controversies that inevitably emerge when discussing Cuba, to look at this recent event as a source of learning, a pilot, something that can point us in the right direction for the future of preventing and responding to disasters.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the author:
Carla Vitantonio is a humanitarian practitioner and researcher who has worked across a number of contexts and organisations, including CARE (as country Director for Cuba), and Handicap International (including as country Director for North Korea). She contributes to academic research initiatives at institutes including the Vrije Universiteit Brussel, the European University Institute, and ODI. Carla hosts the podcast ‘Living Decoloniality’, and also serves on the Board of the International Humanitarian Studies Association, as well as regularly contributing blogs, think pieces and papers – in English, Spanish, and Italian.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
This blog is part of a series on ‘the Politics of Food and Technology’, in collaboration with the SOAS Food Studies Centre. All of the blogs in this series are contributions made at the International Humanitarian Studies Association (IHSA) Conference in Istanbul-Bergen, October 2025, to the panel with a similar title. To read the rest of the blogs in this series, please click here
This blog is the second in a series entitledIn this blog, Eiman Mohamed looks at the role of digital systems in Sudan, including the effects of digital colonialism, and foreign ownership of key digital infrastructure.
Over the past decade, digital sovereignty has become an increasingly central concept in global policy debates. It refers to a state’s ability to govern its digital infrastructure, data, and cyberspace in alignment with national interests. While the term has gained traction in Western discourse as a means of protecting citizens and national data from foreign influence, its manifestation in the Global South (particularly across Africa) has followed a different trajectory.
Across the continent, internet shutdowns have emerged as a recurring expression of digital sovereignty. Governments justify them as measures to ensure national security, prevent misinformation, or maintain social order. Yet, these acts of disconnection often function as political instruments, used to consolidate power, suppress dissent, and control access to information.
Using Sudan as a case study, this blog article explores how internet shutdowns have become mechanisms for asserting digital sovereignty and examines their wider implications for state power, economic dependency, and individual autonomy.
State Autonomy or Authoritarian Control?
In theory, digital sovereignty implies the capacity of states to manage and secure their digital ecosystems responsibly and transparently. It reflects a form of autonomy aligned with self-determination and public accountability. However, within authoritarian contexts, digital sovereignty often becomes a tool of repression rather than empowerment.
In Sudan, the history of internet shutdowns illustrates this distortion. Following the 2013 protests, telecommunications companies that resisted shutdown directives were restructured to include loyal government actors, effectively granting the regime direct oversight of national connectivity. Regulatory entities in the country were frequently sidelined, while the military invoked ambiguous national security clauses to justify recurring blackouts.
These shutdowns were not isolated responses to unrest but institutionalized mechanisms of control. By disabling communication channels during protests, the state curtailed citizens’ ability to coordinate, mobilize, and document violations. Over time, digital autarky came to signify not collective governance, but exclusive authority enforced through infrastructural power; a manifestation of digital authoritarianism under the guise of sovereignty.
Economic Autonomy and the Persistence of Digital Colonialism
Digital sovereignty also encompasses the ability to shape and sustain a national digital economy free from external domination. Yet, across much of Africa, this autonomy remains constrained by digital colonialism; a structural dependence on foreign-owned technologies, platforms, and infrastructures.
In Sudan, the 2024 internet shutdowns exposed the fragility of this economic autonomy. When connectivity was severed, online mobile banking platforms, relied upon by millions for remittances and daily transactions, became inoperable. The resulting liquidity crisis crippled household economies and informal markets, as people lost access to cash, wages, and essential goods.
In the absence of state-provided connectivity, citizens turned to Starlink, a satellite service operating beyond national control and one that is open to profit-bearing and other political influences. Access was mediated through militarized networks, where civilians paid inflated prices to armed groups for limited connectivity. This dynamic generated profits for militias, bypassed regulation, and deprived the state of revenue.
Rather than restoring sovereignty, the shutdown fragmented Sudan’s digital economy into competing domains of authority: foreign, military, and informal. What was presented as a gesture of independence in fact deepened dependency, illustrating how disconnection reproduces digital colonialism in new and exploitative forms.
Individual Autonomy, Dignity, and Food Security
The human dimension of digital sovereignty extends beyond the state and economy to the individual. In the contemporary world, digital access underpins not only communication but also livelihoods, humanitarian assistance, and access to food.
In Sudan, the 2024 shutdown directly undermined this autonomy. The blackout halted digital payment systems, severing millions from remittances and cash transfers essential for food and medicine. Humanitarian organizations that relied on digital platforms for coordination were unable to deliver aid efficiently. Community networks that tracked safe routes for bread and flour deliveries were silenced.
As connectivity vanished, digital exclusion translated into material deprivation. In Khartoum and other cities, communal kitchens shut down after losing access to mobile money platforms, leaving low-income families without affordable meals. Those able to afford satellite connections often paid exorbitant fees at military checkpoints, while marginalized groups were left completely disconnected.
In these conditions, internet shutdowns became a form of infrastructural violence, determining who could access basic resources and who could not. Connectivity itself became a marker of privilege, linking digital exclusion to hunger, insecurity, and indignity.
Rethinking Digital Sovereignty in the Global South
Sudan’s experience underscores the need to reconceptualize digital sovereignty in the Global South. It is not merely about who owns data or infrastructure, but about how power is exercised through connectivity and disconnection.
When state autonomy transforms into authoritarianism, digital sovereignty ceases to serve the public. When shutdowns fracture local economies, economic independence gives way to new forms of dependency. And when digital access becomes contingent on wealth or political loyalty, individual dignity and survival are compromised.
Ultimately, digital sovereignty must be understood as a struggle for justice, autonomy, and existence. In many parts of Africa, internet shutdowns are not simply acts of censorship; they determine who speaks, who eats, and who survives.
Reframing digital sovereignty through the lenses of autonomy and justice reveals that the politics of digital control in Africa are inseparable from the politics of life itself.
BLISS will be publishing various blogs from this series over the next few months. For more information about the project ‘Digitalising Food Assistance: Political economy, governance and food security effects across the Global North-South divide’, check out the project website, or overview on the website of SOAS, University of London.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the author:
Eiman Mohamed
Eiman Mohamed is a cybersecurity expert and digital development practitioner with more than seven years of experience driving digital transformation and implementing ICT projects across both private and non-profit sectors. Her expertise lies in cybersecurity governance, risk, and compliance (GRC), as well as digital development project design and implementation particularly in fragile and conflict-affected contexts mainly in Sudan, Africa.
She holds a Master of Science in Digital Development from the University of Manchester (2024). Her research interests include digital political economy, digital justice, and digital finance.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
This blog is part of a series on ‘the Politics of Food and Technology’, in collaboration with the SOAS Food Studies Centre. All of the blogs in this series are contributions made at the International Humanitarian Studies Association (IHSA) Conference in Istanbul-Bergen, October 2025, to the panel with a similar title. To read the rest of the blogs in this series, please click here.
Digitalisation is transforming how food and humanitarian assistance are delivered across the Global South and the Global North – from Sudan and India to the UK. While promoted as efficient and accountable, these systems often reproduce exclusions and reinforce unequal power relations. In this introductory blog, Yasmin Houamed argues that digitalisation is not a neutral innovation but a political process, fraught with risks and vulnerabilities.
Over more than a decade, inequality, food crises and humanitarian emergencies have increased globally. Humanitarian crises are not confined to the Global South. This is closely linked to a changing geopolitics and the effect of decades of neoliberal ideologies. , the results of which are evident in widely varying contexts, for example, Sudan’s humanitarian crisis, India’s protracted hunger crisis, and the UK’s deepening food crisis. This trend is also associated with an increase in technocratic approaches, including the digitalisation of food and humanitarian assistance. While promoted for reasons of efficiency and accountability, the use of digital technologies to provide assistance can lead to new forms of exclusion, or the formalisation of existing inequalities. Digital technologies involve powerful transnational and national companies, states, and organisations, each with their own specific political and economic motivations, interests, and effects.
This post, the first in a series on The Politics of Food and Digital Technology by BLISS in collaboration with the SOAS Food Studies Centre, introduces key themes that emerged from our recent panel with the same title at the International Humanitarian Studies Association conference, held in Bergen and Istanbul in October 2025. The following blogs in the series are based on each of the presentations in the panel, as well as comments from the discussants.
1. Digitalisation as Fiction
The push to digitalise critical services has become almost unquestioned in multiple contexts. In the UK, as panelist Iris Lim outlined, the Universal Credit welfare system has been digital-by-default since 2013. This digitalisation clashes with the reality of individuals excluded from accessing support due to their limited access to devices or internet, difficulties navigating bureaucratic processes, or (lower) digital literacy.
Governments and donors describe digital tools as neutral and objective, yet their use often masks political choices. As discussant Pierrick Devidal observed, humanitarian actors risk falling for “the fiction” of digitalisation – forgetting its long history and that key foundational elements of humanitarianism do not align with it.
Panelist Hayley Umayam’s research in South Sudan (2017–2020) shows how biometric registration as part of “needs-based” targeting shifts accountability away from people and onto digital systems by “translating uncertainty into procedural legitimacy,” giving the illusion of fairness even when large groups are excluded.
The attraction of innovation can distract from these realities. Technologies promise efficiency, but for whom? For recipients, digitalisation can mean new barriers, surveillance, and loss of agency. For service providers, it can mean extra work and less flexibility. To move beyond fiction, digitalisation must be grounded in lived realities and complement, not replace, human judgment.
2. Digitalisation as an Incomplete Image
Digitalisation promises visibility, yet it also produces blindness. As panelist Jeremy Taylor argues, the humanitarian sector’s increasing reliance on digital data creates a paradox of visibility: those most in need are often least visible to digital systems. He uses the example of the 2022 siege of Tigray, where data collection was nearly impossible or was manipulated by Ethiopian authorities. The question we must return to, Taylor asks, is “What levels of uncertainty are we willing to accept in order to save lives?” Digitalisation, in this sense, creates an incomplete picture of need – one that privileges measurable (if imperfect) data over on-the-ground knowledge.
Similarly, as panelist C.Sathyamala outlines, the digitalisation of India’s Public Distribution System (PDS) fails to provide for the most marginalised. For example, fingerprint authentication excludes manual labourers whose worn prints make them “illegible” to the state. In both cases, uncertainty by digital measures excludes the most vulnerable.
3. Digital systems as a Double-Edged Political Tool
Digital systems can function as tools of control, and they can also create new forms of exclusion.. Several of our panel papers examined how digitalisation reshapes power within and beyond state borders.
Panelist Eiman Mohamed’s paper on “digital sovereignty” highlighted another dynamic in Sudan: government-imposed internet shutdowns used to control communication and dissent. Rather than liberating states or citizens, digitalisation can reinforce dependency on global technology and finance companies – a form of “digital colonialism.”
India’s biometric ID cards are another example. C. Sathyamala describes how what started as a surveillance project for citizenship evolved into an asset making system where data collection becomes an important resource leading to capital accumulation. It is apparent from the cases presented that data is not neutral. It serves political, economic, and strategic interests as much as humanitarian ones.
4. Rethinking Responsibility: From Digital to Dignity
Similar questions of ethics, agency, and responsibility surfaced across all the papers. As discussant Usha Ramanathan observed, the fact that the same problems recur across regions is both “fascinating and depressing” – but recognising this commonality creates space for collective solutions. Increasingly, when technology fails them, the burden falls on individuals to navigate complex systems and challenge opaque, unaccountable bureaucracies. As Umayam puts it, the “moral burden is displaced onto digital processes.”
This shift dehumanises recipients of aid as they are treated automatically as potential fraudsters, having to continually verify their identity and ‘neediness’. Devidal argues for “building back” capacities that have been outsourced to digital systems: local discretion, trust, and accountability could all play into a wider conversation about ‘digital resilience’.
Across all cases, digitalisation reorders power – between citizens and states, between public and private actors, and between visible and invisible marginalised groups.
Conclusion
Digitalisation introduces new risks: surveillance, corporate capture and exclusion. Policymakers and humanitarian actors must ask not only what technology delivers but what it sidelines – local knowledge, trust, and human judgment.
Digitalisation is a political choice, not an inevitability. Systems must be designed to serve people rather than power, recognising that data is never the whole story – and that its use carries real risks for individuals and states alike.
BLISS will be publishing various blogs from this series over the next few months. For more information about the project ‘Digitalising Food Assistance: Political economy, governance and food security effects across the Global North-South divide’, check out the project website, or overview on the website of SOAS, University of London.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the author:
Yasmin Houamed
Yasmin Houamed is the Research Assistant for the UK case study of the ESRC-funded Digitalising Food Assistance project. She received her MA in Anthropology of Food at SOAS, University of London, and her BA in Political Science from Stanford University. Her research has previously focused on food systems and commodification in Tunisia.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
Whether we embrace it or not, digital technologies and AI are here to stay, and they are fundamentally changing the human world of labour. As new technologies revolutionize the healthcare landscape, these changes are reshaping the lives and work of care workers. In this blog, Sreerekha Sathi shares insights from her research, which explores important questions about how digital technologies are reshaping care work in the Netherlands specifically: how these innovations are affecting care workers and how care homes are adapting to digital solutions and AI-assisted robotics. What specific forms of AI-assisted robotics are currently being utilized in Dutch care homes and how can we evaluate the benefits, challenges and risks associated with their implementation?
Source: Unsplash
Digitalization, robotization and the care worker
The Dutch healthcare sector faces increasing inequality in access to care, staff shortages, increasing workloads and a high percentage of aging populations. Around two thousand government-funded care homes serve the elderly, those with dementia, disabilities and other care needs.
Like other countries in Europe, the Netherlands has been experimenting with digitization and robotization in health care. Over the past two decades, AI-assisted digital tools and Socially Assistive Robots (SARS) have become more common in surgeries, patient monitoring, consultations, diagnostics, rehabilitation, telemedicine, cognitive and emotional care, especially in the post-pandemic period (Getson, C., & Nejat, G. 2021, Kang et al. 2023). Beyond Europe, countries like China and Japan lead these developments, with Sweden and the Netherlands close behind.
The use of digital solutions and AI-assisted robotics have moved beyond the experimental phase into early adoption. Current discussion focuses on opportunities for collaboration between private companies, academic institutions and healthcare providers. This pilot study involved conversations with few care workers in the care homes, innovation managers, company officials and academic scholars in the Netherlands.
Conversations with care workers show that most technologies in use are still relatively simple – medication dispensers, sensor systems and communication tablets – selected for their affordability and ease. Once prescribed, digital care tools like Compaan, Freestyle Libre, MelioTherm, Medido, Sansara or Mono Medical are introduced to clients by neighbourhood digital teams, usually via smartphone apps connected through WIFI as part of online digital care.
The introduction of robots is slowly gaining ground. Many universities, including Erasmus University, are collaborating with private companies on new projects in robotization and digitalization in health care. Some of the robots which are popular in use currently in Europe include TinyBots (Tessa), Zorabots (NAO), Pepper, Paro and other robotic pets, and SARA, which supports dementia patients. Some care workers believe that the robots promote social contact and enhance patients’ independence, while others appreciate that robots taking over peripheral tasks can make their own work easier.
Care workers are required to learn and engage with new technologies, which directly affect their everyday lives. Although they are relatively well paid by normal standards, their workload and stress often exceed what their pay reflects. Larger, well-funded care homes have support staff who assist care workers for indirect or non-medical support at lower pay. When new technologies are introduced without sufficient involvement and inputs from the workers, they can lead to more burden on workers in terms of time and labour costs. For them, new technologies are often ‘thrown over the fence’, with insufficient training or involvement of care workers in design or decision-making, leading to frustration, resistance and underuse even when the tools are effective. They argue, ‘we don’t need fancy tools – just the right tools used in the right way.’
Many workers feel that if a robot can take on physical tasks, the workers can give clients more time and attention. When the purpose of a tool is clearly explained, and workers remain present in critical moments, clients and families are more accepting of new technology.
Gender and labour in new technologies
Feminist Science and Technology Studies (FSTS) has long shown how technologies carry gendered biases. Feminist histories of computing have highlighted women’s contribution to the invention and introduction of computers and software (Browne, Stephen & McInerney, 2023). A relevant question to explore today is would new technologies using AI assisted robotics replicate the same biases. Although new technologies are often presented as objective, they are built upon datasets and assumptions that can reproduce biases and stereotypes, based on the foundations of the feeds and accesses in-built into it (1). Robots, for instance, often reflect the idealized gendered traits. Nurse robots are designed with feminine or childlike features – extroverted and friendly – versus ‘techno-police’ styled introvert security robots as stoic and masculine.
Care work remains a heavily gendered profession, though more men are joining the field. While some men care workers face occasional client push back, they are increasingly welcomed amid shortages. Many care workers worry about being replaced by robots, yet most agree that emotional presence of caregivers – especially in elderly and dementia care – remains essential and robots may support but cannot substitute the human connection that defines good care work.
Further, workers also stress that technology must be context-sensitive: its success depends on the socio-economic profile of the area, staff availability and the lived preferences of the people receiving care. They advocate for flexible, context-based implementation rather than top-down standardization of new machines. Core to the debates on digitalization and robotization in care are ethical issues often narrowly framed as privacy concerns but extending to autonomy, emotional dignity and growing surveillance and inequality.
Insights into the future
The study observe that many attempts to introduce digital technologies or robotics in care homes stall in the pilot phase, often disliked or abandoned by care professionals or clients. Care workers need time and training to trust these devices, especially regarding the risks and uncertainties involved. They emphasize early involvement through co-design as essential for building trust, transparency and accountability. For sustainable implementation, the focus should shift from what is ‘new’ to what is ‘useful’.
Future debates will likely centre around prioritizing digitization in health care versus SARs in physical care. Persistent challenges include time constraints to software failures (Huisman & Kort 2019). As efforts to create ‘smart homes’ and support independent living continue (Allaban, Wang & Padir 2020), environmental sustainability and climate resilience must become priorities.
Another important step for exploration is to critically analyze the growing corporatization and monopolization in digitization and robotization (Zuboff, 2019; Hao, 2025). Rather than leaving healthcare innovations to monopolies or private capital, public or community-based state welfare support must retain agency in how digital and robotic tools are implemented. Finally, pushing back from military robotics towards socially beneficial technologies – such as health care or waste management – needs to be prioritized.
As a work in progress, this research is significant for understanding the social impacts of digitalization and robotization. In the next step of this study, these conversations will further bring together care workers, academics and innovative managers between the global south and the global north to foster dialogue about how these changes are reshaping the healthcare economy, care homes and the future of care workers.
End Note:
A focus on changing forms of labour, along with the concerns around gender stereotypes and gendered knowledges attributed to social robots, is important for further exploration in the fields of AI-assisted occupations. The introduction of new machines involves the invisible human labour behind them, which is mostly the ‘ghost workers’ from the global south, whether with data work, coding or mining. What is inherent to existing social contexts, including gender, class, and racial stereotypes, are already heavily compromising the digital world.
Acknowledgements: This research was supported by a small grant from Erasmus Trustfonds for 2024-2025, I embarked on this short study to explore these questions. Although the grant period concluded in June 2025, the research continues. I would like to thank Ms. Julia van Stenis for her invaluable support in making this study possible.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question
About the author:
Sreerekha Sathi
Sreerekha Sathiworks on issues of gender, political economy, and critical development studies. Her current research explores the intersections of gender, care, and labour with digitalization, AI, and the future of work, and engages with critical debates in decolonial thought. She is a member of the editorial board ofDevelopment and Change.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
A red line has been drawn three times now by private citizens, who have not only called for boycotts against Israel to hold it accountable for atrocity crimes, but also the responsibility of their own governments to bring about sanctions. Beyond the ethical imperative, sanctions have legal foundations in international (humanitarian) law. In this blog post, Irene van Staveren and Binyam Afewerk Demena consider the role of sanctions and boycotts in changing the behaviour of governments that carry out human rights abuses and international crimes. Whilst sanctions have a mixed record of success, given the substantial economic ties between Israel and the Netherlands, they could be a powerful tool of accountability as the death toll in the Gaza genocide continues to climb even after the ceasefire. Peace and justice are still far out of sight. Outside of government action, what can people do by ‘voting with their feet’?
We’ve had three massive demonstrations, with 100,000, 150,000 and 250,000 participants each, set against a cruel political unwillingness on the part of most EU states to exercise any criticism of the state of Israel and its genocide in Gaza. The Dutch government too remains silent. Small gestures in the direction of accountability proposed by Parliament members have not gained a majority vote due to a majority of right-wing parties. Only very recently, a majority vote was obtained to boycott products from the occupied territories on the West Bank, but how, when and even if this will be implemented is unknown. Palestine has also become an election issue and on 29 October there will be an opportunity for voters to express their voice against the Dutch government’s de-facto support for genocide, including withholding humanitarian aid and occupying a large border zone in Gaza as well as continuing killings.
When it comes to sanctions, the Dutch government has been hiding behind the EU, arguing that joint action would be more effective. That may be the case in theory, but as long as the EU remains divided about criticism, let alone sanctions on Israel, there is nothing to stop each member state from exercising their own, legal responsibility to implement sanctions (while at the same time lobbying the EU for joint action). Unilateral and multilateral sanctions are derived from various international treaties that states are a signatory to, including the United Nations Charter, the Geneva Conventions and the Genocide Convention.
Sanctions concern the intersection of war, law and economy. Not only as a means of pressure; it is even the case that an economy can profit from war. Francesca Albanese, UN Special Rapporteur on the Palestinian Territories, recently concluded that we can speak of an economy of genocide. In the first year and a half of the assault on Gaza, her report to the UN states, the Tel Aviv Stock Exchange achieved a record 179 per cent increase, translating into a $157.9 billion gain. Albanese calls for sanctions.
Before we delve into the conditions under which sanctions tend to be most effective, first a clarification of what a call for sanctions against the State of Israel is about. It is not about pestering the average Israeli man, woman or child, and certainly it has nothing to do with antisemitism. It is about accountability to international law, impacting and weakening a government accused of serious international crimes and other violations of international law, including the crime of genocide. It is accomplished through affecting its trade in goods, services and weapons, including ending military cooperation, as well as sports and cultural exchanges and university cooperation, thereby seeking to affect Israel’s earnings and opportunities as well as its public support. As was the case with South Africa, which also experienced a range of trade, economic and cultural sanctions, there are many Israelis who call for sanctions from within. They do so because they object to their country’s policies and would like to see the government fall. Although many are satisfied with the return of all surviving hostages, many, though by far not enough, wish to see an immediate end to the cruelties against Palestinians and occupation of the West Bank, Gaza and East Jerusalem (although not everybody supports all these goals together).
Do sanctions work?
A new study published in Econometrics takes a fresh look at a four decades-old debate, asking a simple question: When do economic sanctions actually work? For years, researchers and policymakers have wrestled with mixed evidence. Some studies say sanctions work wonders; others show they barely make a dent. Until now, this back-and-forth has made it hard to generalize on the impact of imposing sanctions against a state. The 2025 study, ’A Meta Analysis of Determinants of Success and Failure of Economic Sanctions’, by one of the authors of this blog post, offers some perspective by systematically analysing empirical studies spanning a period between 1985 and 2018.
What can be discerned from available research is that the success of economic sanctions boils down to three key pillars, or ingredients, of sanctions success. The first is strong trade linkages: if the target country depends heavily on the sender for trade, sanctions hurt more and thus have a higher chance of success. Sanctions are far less effective when countries have diversified their trade or can pivot elsewhere. The second is swift implementation: time is of the essence. Sanctions that are quickly imposed after the triggering event are more likely to succeed, which in the case of Israel has been a repeated manifestation of triggering events. Delay gives the target state time to prepare, rally support or dig in politically, which has also been observed routinely in Israel, especially, though not limited to, the period since October 2023. The third is pre-existing friendly relations: sanctions are more effective when countries have had relatively good political or diplomatic ties before the breakdown. If prior relations are bad, then a potential target could pre-empt the sanction and reduce its impact, for instance through proactive reorientation to new markets or by stock piling.
For policymakers, the message implies choose your battles wisely. Blanket sanctions, in the absence of strong ties or timely coordination may amount to little more than political posturing.
Three cases
Success story: The apartheid regime of South Africa is among the most frequently cited examples where sanctions have supported major political change. In this case, sustained international pressure, including trade embargoes and financial restrictions, helped isolate the regime and eventually led to political transitions. Crucially, this was supported by broad multilateral cooperation, strong trade ties, a vocal and well-organized civil society and clear moral consensus, all of which amplified the sanctions’ impact.
Mixed outcomes:Sanctions against Iran over its nuclear programme have shown limited but measurable economic impact, causing inflation, currency collapse and reduced oil exports. However, despite the economic pain, sanctions alone have not forced a full policy reversal, perhaps highlighting the limits of pressure when strategic interests and national pride are at stake. Sanctions on Iran may have exerted short-term pressure and led to temporary concessions, but they have ultimately failed to achieve long-term success. They have therefore recently been reimposed.
Clear failures: By sharp contrast, US-driven sanctions against Iraq in the 1990s utterly failed to change Saddam Hussein’s regime. Sanctions against Iraq under the regime of Saddam Hussein caused extensive humanitarian harm and met the typical economic criteria for success, being swift and economically damaging, yet ultimately failed to achieve their political objective. This suggests that in some cases regimes are resistant to external pressure when leaders do not prioritize national economic well-being. For example, the extensive sanctions on Russia since 2014 (and escalated in 2022) have hurt its economy and isolated it diplomatically, but have not deterred its military actions in Ukraine.
These cases underscore the limits of sanctions when the target is economically resilient, politically isolated or willing and able to absorb long-term costs to the detriment of the population. Indeed, a recent study in The Lancet has demonstrated a causal relationship between sanctions and civilian deaths, with the strongest effects on mortality for unilateral, economic and US sanctions. But the study did not find any statistical evidence of a large civilian death toll resulting from UN sanctions. This re-emphasizes the importance of UN-based sanctions as they are likely to be more effective with less unnecessary deaths among civilians.
A recent study, which also examines the factors shaping the success or failure of sanctions, finds that the institutionalization of sanctions within the sender coalition is associated with higher success rates than cases that are less multilaterally supported. UN-based sanctions provide a clear example: by embedding measures within a multilateral, rules-based framework, they enhance legitimacy, facilitate coordination and limit opportunities for evasion; mechanisms that the literature consistently links to greater effectiveness compared to unilateral or non-institutionalized sanctions.
The above country-examples per category of effectiveness resonate with what the research tells us: sanctions are most effective when they are timely, targeted and backed by strong international – UN – coordination, especially when the target state is economically dependent on the sender.
From research to action: Trade between the Netherlands and Israel
Let’s learn from these experiences in putting pressure on the State of Israel as well as other states, institutions and companies that are complicit in its violations. For decades, and especially over the past few years, the Netherlands has built up a consistent trade surplus with Israel. IMF estimates indicate that exports to Israel average close to three billion euros, exceeding imports, which stand at around two billion euros. This trade volume has remained almost unchanged since 7 October 2023 when Hamas carried out a horrible attack on Israel and took hostages. This attack was followed by retaliations by the IDF (Israeli Defence Forces) leading to a devastating, and still ongoing, genocide in Gaza. Israel also arrested around 10,000 Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza, mostly civilians, and many without charge, while only a minority has been released after the formal ceasefire and return of all living hostages by Hamas.
Meanwhile, the month-to-month trade data shows a sudden increase in Dutch exports to Israel last March – the largest export volume in 2.5 years. The EU is Israel’s largest trading partner and within the EU, the Netherlands is the fourth largest trading partner. According to the Financiele Dagblad, Dutch financial firms have around 1 billion euros of investments in the occupied territories. The EU is also the largest investor in Israel and the Netherlands ranks as the number one investor.
The biggest trade volumes concern minerals, technical, machinery and chemicals, both for exports and imports. Sanctions included in this trade category in particular would hurt Israeli businesses and thereby put pressure on the Israeli government. Dutch firms may be hurt as well, but it would come at a time when the portfolios of many Dutch industries are filled with more orders than their technical personnel shortages are able to fulfill, particularly with additional, new orders by the Dutch army due to the new NATO spending norm.
This brings us to arms trade between the two countries, which should be the target of a complete embargo, for two reasons. First, Israeli weapon systems are sold as combat tested, which includes testing on civilians in Gaza. Second, Dutch arms exports to Israel have reportedly been used to commit international crimes, including genocide, directly or indirectly in Gaza. Dutch arms exports to Israel are relatively small but nevertheless have still been worth nearly four million euro since 7 October 2023. These exports include parts for rocket and radar systems, and parts for F-16 and F-35 fighter jets. In addition, ships from the port of Rotterdam and flights from Schiphol airport in Amsterdam have regularly carried ammunition from the US to Israel. Exports to Israel also include dual-use goods (military and civil use), which have an estimated value of 60 million euro, including high-tech parts from the Dutch tech company ASML.
Arms imports from Israel are worth more than arms exports – 34 million USD in 2024 – and they are well documented by the Dutch NGO PAX. They include weapons-systems and parts from Israel Aerospace Industries and Rafael Advanced Defense Systems as well as Elbit systems, which has also a subsidiary in the municipality of Woensdrecht in the South of the Netherlands. Imports from Israel include a wide variety of products from bullet-proof vests to an anti-drone system, and include Spike anti-tank rockets as well as Barak-rockets for new Dutch marine vessels. By contrast, Spain has recently cancelled two weapon systems ordered from Israel, including Spike anti-tank rockets that the Netherlands has also purchased recently. In other words, it can be done!
All this shows that even though EU-wide sanctions are not in place, individual EU-members have a lot of scope to take up their legal responsibility of holding the State of Israel accountable for atrocity crimes and ending all forms of the ongoing genocide, beginning with military trade sanctions. This could go a step further with a coalition of the willing. This should include The Netherlands, given its hosting of the International Court of Justice, which in its 2024 Advisory Opinion reiterated its earlier call for measures to be taken by States to hold Israel accountable for its illegal occupation. This would furthermore be in accordance with the policies of previous Dutch administrations, which have called for respect for UN resolutions supporting peace and justice.
Humanitarian exemption
A further export category from the Netherlands to Israel is pharmaceuticals and medicines, worth nearly 100 million euro per year. These could be exempted from sanctions on the basis of an ethics of care. Whereas a justice ethics is necessary for strong and immediate trade sanctions and an arms embargo, this does not mean that we should use the same immoral reasoning as the government of Israel does concerning humanitarian needs in Gaza, which has denied access to medication and medical treatment for Palestinians. An ethics of care takes empathy into account and exempts humanitarian goods from the pressures of sanctions on a government. At the same time, imports of pharmaceutical and medicines from Israel should be stopped, because there are alternatives available for Dutch patients to the Israeli brand of Teva, a company which strongly supports the IDF.
What we can do ourselves
Apart from what the Dutch government may do, there are many other ways for consumers to draw their own red line for peace and justice through a citizen-led boycott. First, there are growing reasons not to book any accommodation through Booking.com or AirBnB anymore, particularly due to these companies listing properties in illegally-occupied areas and thereby profiting from Israel’s illegal occupation. Second, there are many justifications expressed by Dutch NGO PAX and others not to buy any consumer goods from Israel. These are easy to identify with the product barcode starting with the country code 729 or by using a app such as Boycat and the Palestinian-developed No Thanks. Third, one can refrain from buying generic medication from Israeli brands Teva and its related Pharmachemie in drugstores and pharmacies (drugs such as paracetamol), and also take it a step further by writing to their health insurer asking to stop the partnership with Teva for any medication. This is relevant because in the Netherlands, several health insurers purchase up to 44% of their medication from Teva.
In conclusion, let’s pursue boycott as citizens and let’s put strong pressure on the Dutch government and the EU to apply a full package of sanctions and an arms embargo to push for a complete end to all genocidal actions of Israel, because the window for their effectiveness is closing slowly. The sanctions on South Africa in the 1980s set an excellent example.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question
About the authors:
Irene van Staveren
Irene van Staveren is Professor of Pluralist Development Economics at the ISS. Professor Van Staveren’s field of research included feminist economics, heterodox economics, pluralist economics and social economics. Specifically, her fields of expertise lie in ethics and economic philosophy.
Binyam Demena
Binyam Afewerk Demena holds the Assistant Professor of Development Economics position at the International Institute of Social Studies, Erasmus University Rotterdam, in The Netherlands. His research, deeply rooted in the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs), centers on international economics, environmental impacts, development, and health.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
Slovakia is emerging as a hub for African students seeking affordable, EU-recognized education, thanks to competitive tuition, a safe environment, and growing international support. Yet, life after graduation raises questions: Do students stay or leave, and what barriers shape their decisions? In this blog, Terézia Zemeníková and Lucia Mýtna Kureková, from the Slovak Academy of Sciences explore the social, cultural, and academic experiences of African students in Slovakia, highlighting challenges and calling for policy changes to better support and retain international talent.
Slovakia: A developing educational destination with persistent issues
Slovakia is becoming an unexpected hub for African students seeking affordable education and recognized EU qualifications. Universities offer a range of programs at competitive tuition rates, and the country’s EU membership ensures that degrees earned are recognized across Europe. Additionally, Slovakia’s safe environment, relatively low cost of living, and growing international student support contribute to this appeal. But what happens after graduation? Are these students building a future there or moving on? Are there any barriers in their life in Slovakia? How do the barriers they face in Slovakia influence their post-graduation decisions? This blog aims to inform readers about the unique experiences and challenges faced by African students who migrate to Slovakia, shedding light on their journey as an underrepresented group within the country’s educational landscape. Based on in-depth research and analysis, the blog presents comprehensive findings that explore the social, cultural, and academic aspects of migration. It also calls attention to needed policy changes to increase country’s potential to attract, accept, and retain foreign students.
Surveying migrant decision-making
Between 2024 and 2025, the Institute for Forecasting of the Slovak Academy of Sciences conducted 34 interviews with respondents from African countries as part of the PACES project, to understand their motivations for staying or leaving Slovakia. Within this group of participants, 17 were identified as past or current students: 7 Master’s, 7 PhD and 3 Bachelor’s students. Our respondents have mostly studied finance, economics and business (7), mathematical science (3), medicine (dentistry) (3) and computer science (1).
We conducted a study using these 17 interviews and secondary research to better understand the decision-making of African students to stay or leave Slovakia and the influence of barriers they faced in Slovakia. Findings show that 41 per cent (7) of the respondents are planning to leave Slovakia after graduation, 29 per cent (5) plan to stay and 1 plans to return to their home country. The remaining 4 (24 per cent) refused to answer or did not know, which indicates their uncertainty about their future movement.
What do the numbers say?
Slovakia is not a typical migration destination for Africans, and still serves mostly as a transit country for those seeking destinations elsewhere in Europe. African migrants come to Slovakia for various reasons, but many are highly educated and come to study. While the population of African students is small, it is steadily growing.
Recent data show that 134 African students are enrolled in Bachelor’s and Master’s programmes, and 36 are at the doctoral level. While smaller than student populations from Europe or Asia, their presence is both vital and growing. The 17 African students interviewed in this study, while a small sample, represent 10 per cent of all African students in Slovakia in 2024.
International students choose Slovakia for various reasons:
– Programme structures: Interesting programmes offered by Slovak universities increased motivation to apply (5 respondents);
– Networks: Friends or relatives who studied in Slovakia encouraged others to come and apply for studies (4 respondents);
– Policies: Governmental scholarship schemes offered accessible pathways and more sustainable future prospects (2 respondents);
– Affordability: Tuition fees were affordable and lower than in most other EU countries (2 respondents);
– EU diploma recognition: Degrees obtained in Slovakia open opportunities across Europe (1 respondent).
‘The number one determinant was that the school was affordable; it was cheaper than any other school in the European Union. I saw and read the structure of the programme; I liked it. I applied and luckily they gave me admission.’ – Male graduate from Nigeria.
While student migration often marks the beginning of temporary or even long-term migration plans, the subsequent realities faced by the migrants may significantly influence their decisions. Research showed that African students face several specific integration barriers, which lead to very uncertain prospects, and essentially might encourage leaving more than staying in Slovakia.
The walls they hit
Interviews revealed that the reasons for students’ decision to leave included language barriers (6 respondents), limited job opportunities and low salaries (5), difficulties with visa renewal processes and communication with the Foreign Police (5). Students also reported obstacles in securing housing, healthcare and work permits.
Language was the most significant barrier: 16 out of 17 respondents experienced difficulties, and 31% described it as the factor most strongly shaping their decision to leave. Only three respondents who had real opportunities to learn Slovak were more likely to stay, but most courses were short-term and basic, preventing higher proficiency.
Legal hurdles further restricted settlement. Strict and lengthy procedures for temporary residence permits, combined with uncertainty about work permits after graduation, discouraged students from pursuing long-term employment. Discrimination in housing also surfaced:
‘It happened to me, or you might find housing, and once they realize you’re a foreigner, either the prices are changed, or the terms of the contract change, or they just refuse… like we don’t accept foreigners.’ – Male graduate from Kenya.
Out of 17 students, 4 have experienced a school-to-work transition. Yet only 1 of them wanted to stay in Slovakia after finding the employment. This suggests that barriers extend beyond securing a job after graduation and shape students’ broader perceptions of life in the country.
‘What do I lack in Slovakia? I lack a vibrant African community. I don’t have many friends, even though I have stayed here for a long time. Jobs are scarce. Opportunities for personal improvement and development are low, even if you are employed. Whatever salary you are getting, almost half of it is going to taxes to cover your expenses. The quality of life is OK in Slovakia, but language is an issue. Salaries are low, the jobs are few, and the supporting communities are also weak.‘ – Male graduate from Kenya.
Despite these challenges, a few students still chose to stay. Five respondents cited career opportunities as the main reason, supported by Slovakia’s security (1), calm environment (1) and personal relationships they had built (1).
What can change?
Although Slovakia’s current policies aim to attract, accept and retain foreign students, there remains a lack of specific and consistent support policies at the government and university level. Findings from this research indicate that ensuring smoother transitions from study to work and strengthening comprehensive integration policies would make Slovakia a more viable long-term destination.
Government level: Introduce a structured post-study visa pathway to allow graduates to seek employment and contribute to the economy. Simplify residence and work permit procedures to reduce legal uncertainty;
Universities: Create stronger academic and administrative support systems, including help with paperwork and tailored career services; offer free Slovak language courses within university curricula, extending beyond basic proficiency, to improve labour market integration and long-term settlement;
Institutions: Build support networks to foster integration and counter isolation among foreign students. Develop local level initiatives and allocate resources to support integration into social security system and community activities.
What we have learned
The research shows that Slovak language knowledge is pivotal for African migrants, shaping everything from healthcare access to social participation. As long as language barriers persist, the potential of Slovakia as a true destination country will remain limited.
Policy gaps also hinder international graduates’ settlement. While African migrants prioritize language acquisition and clear pathways to employment when deciding to stay, existing integration policies in Slovakia fall short in addressing these critical needs, resulting in a misalignment that limits the country’s attractiveness as a permanent settlement option and perpetuates its status as primarily a transit country. In addition to helping the nation’s economic and social development, addressing these gaps by better aligning policies with research findings, creating clear post-study work pathways, bolstering institutional support and integrating language learning would make Slovakia a more appealing and feasible long-term destination for international graduates.
For Slovakia to shift from a ‘transit’ to a ‘destination’ country that attracts skilled newcomers, government actors must be willing to invest in structured support, anti-discrimination measures and deliberate social integration initiatives.
This blog draws on the PACES project, a Horizon Europe-funded research initiative that uncovers how migrants make decisions in rapidly changing societies and how policy environments influence their mobility. The project combines policy analysis with qualitative fieldwork across Europe and Africa, offering a robust framework for analysing migration in a broader societal and institutional context.
This blog is part of the PACES project funded by the European Union. Views and opinions expressed are those of the authors only and do not necessarily reflect those of the European Union. Neither the European Union nor the granting authority can be held responsible for them.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the authors:
Terézia Zemeníková
Terézia Zemeníková graduated from The Hague University of Applied Sciences and completed an internship at the Centre of Social and Psychological Sciences, Institute for Forecasting of the Slovak Academy of Sciences. Her research focused on labour migration, student migration and the social inclusion of African migrants in Slovakia, exploring integration processes and intercultural understanding.
Lucia Mýtna Kureková
Lucia Mýtna Kureková (PhD) is a senior researcher at the Slovak Academy of Sciences (SAS). Her research focuses on areas such as labour migration and labour market integration of immigrants in the EU; welfare and social inclusion; skills and technological change; and online labour market data. She has participated as lead researcher in several international collaborative research projects funded by the European Commission.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
M-PESA, a fintech platform, created alternative banking for those previously excluded from formal finance. While it advanced financial inclusion, it also highlighted deep inequalities and the extraction of value from vulnerable users. In this blog, Anna Elias, Erwin Tuijl, and Jasmin Hofman remind us that frugal innovation is not just about low-cost solutions — it is about addressing the social and political dimensions of exclusion and examining who truly benefits from digital progress.
M-PESA is often cited as a landmark example of frugal innovation in the digital era. This fintech platform created an alternative banking infrastructure for people in informal economies who previously lacked access to formal banking. While M-PESA has significantly advanced financial inclusion, it has also been criticised for deepening inequalities between those who have and those who lack access, as well as enabling its operators to extract value from vulnerable users in informal settlements . This case highlights an important nuance: frugal innovation should not only be understood as delivering low-cost and simple solutions, but through a more holistic lens that embeds social and political dimensions to actively tackle exclusion and inequality This broader framing pushes us to critically examine how digital platforms do more than just lower entry barriers, they shape who ultimately benefits and who remains excluded.
This tension between increased accessibility and persistent exclusion also appears in social media platforms like YouTube and Facebook. These platforms empower grassroots innovators in the Global South to reach wider markets, but gaining visibility often requires additional investments in advertising or search optimization, reinforcing inequalities based on users’ resources. In contrast, in refugee camps, semi-literate women use WhatsApp for voice messages and photo sharing, fostering new forms of collective agency and entrepreneurship despite limited formal infrastructure.
These examples show that digital platforms can enable users to overcome resource constraints in innovative ways. Frugal innovations aim to “do more with less for more people,” characterized by low cost, simplicity, and ease of access. Yet frugal is not always inclusive.
So, where do gig platforms fit within this framework? Are they truly frugal, that is easy to use, affordable, accessible and do they effectively address livelihood challenges in informal economies? Gig platforms connect people offering short, flexible tasks or “gigs” with customers. They broadly fall into two categories: remote digital work such as coding, translation or data entry on platforms like Amazon Mechanical Turk, and location-based services like ride-hailing, food delivery or home maintenance via SafeBoda, Uber, PedidosYa or Urban Company.
To understand how these platforms operate, we highlight the case of Sonal, a beautician in a Mumbai suburb, whom one of the author’s engaged with during fieldwork. At 5 AM, she prepares her kit and checks her Urban Company app, which has scheduled six appointments for her that day. Before joining the platform, Sonal struggled to find steady work, relying on informal networks and occasional beauty parlour jobs, opportunities that diminished further after COVID-19. Urban Company now connects her to customers she would not otherwise reach. Yet, her income fluctuates with the platform’s algorithms: her rating dropped after a couple of three (with five being the maximum) star reviews, affecting her visibility and job allocation. She is also repaying her smartphone in instalments, a vital tool for her livelihood, which reduces her daily take-home pay. Many workers like Sonal navigate this digital frontier across many contexts, balancing new opportunities with precarious conditions.
Gig platforms lower entry barriers by providing affordable, ready-made infrastructure: mobile interfaces, algorithmic client matching, payment processing, and marketing reach. Traditionally, workers in informal contexts needed not only monetary capital like owning a vehicle or renting space, but also social capital: trust, networks, and knowledge to secure steady work. Access itself becomes a form of capital determining livelihood security and autonomy. Platforms like SafeBoda or Urban Company bypass these hurdles, enabling workers with limited resources to enter new markets.
Ease of use is critical, especially for workers with low formal education or technical skills. Many gig platforms offer intuitive interfaces with regional language support, voice commands, and simple navigation. For example, the Urban Company app supports multiple regional languages and provides features like earnings dashboard for workers to track payments. Sonal highlights the convenience: “I can see my earnings by day, week, or month all in one place, indicate my availability, and manage my schedule through the app”.
Affordability is another dimension of frugal innovation. Many platforms have minimal or no registration fees, making them more accessible than traditional business setups requiring large upfront investments, buying a vehicle or setting up a salon, for instance. Platforms also reduce marketing costs by aggregating demand and matching it to workers directly, mitigating risks associated with finding customers independently.
At first glance, gig platforms appear to embody frugal innovation by offering low-cost, accessible means to improve livelihoods in informal economies.
Challenging platform frugality
Access to digital infrastructure remains a fundamental prerequisite for using digital platforms. Participation depends on reliable mobile networks, smartphone ownership, and basic digital literacy. While often taken for granted in urban areas, these conditions can be major barriers in rural regions, especially across parts of Africa where network coverage is patchy. Moreover, rural areas’ low population density limits demand for location-based services like ride-hailing or food delivery, deepening the urban-rural divide in gig work opportunities.
Costs of participation also challenge the frugality claim. For example, Jane from the Mathare informal settlement in Kenya sometimes skips meals to afford internet bundles. As for Sonal, she must repay her smartphone in instalments. Some platforms charge fees to service providers or merchants, for instance restaurant owners using Just Eat Takeaway may pay to be featured higher in search results or face fierce price competition [iv]. Beyond platform fees, workers bear costs of smartphones, internet subscriptions, loan repayment for vehicles, or workspace rent. Such expenses create dependencies and exacerbate precarity.
Formal registration requirements can exclude many people. Drivers in India can sign up on Uber with a valid driving license, but residents of informal settlements like Mathare often lack official IDs needed for the registration. Similarly, Syrian refugees in Lebanon are excluded due to their lack of a legal status, and strict SIM card registration rules in Uganda prevent some citizens from accessing mobile platforms at all.
Understanding platform frugality requires a holistic view of frugal innovation that goes beyond low cost and simplicity. It calls for embedding social and political dimensions that address exclusion and power dynamics shaping who benefits. Only through such a comprehensive lens can we critically assess the promises and perils of gig platforms as vehicles for inclusive economic development.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the authors:
Ana Elias
Anna Elias is a PhD researcher at the International Institute of Social Studies, Erasmus University. Her research examines how digital platforms reshape livelihoods within the informal sector, focusing on workers’ experiences in economically disadvantaged, socially hierarchical, and resource-constrained contexts of the Global South. She co-coordinates the Platform Labour Group at Erasmus University and is affiliated with the Platform Work Inclusion Living Lab (PWILL).
Erwin Tuijl
Erwin van Tuijl (PhD, Erasmus University Rotterdam) is researcher and lecturer in Urban Studies at the TU Delft, and at the International Centre for Frugal Innovation (ICFI). He is also affiliated with the European Institute for Comparative Urban Research (Euricur). His current research focuses on just sustainability transitions (with a focus on mobility and energy), digitalisation, (frugal) innovation, and regional development.
Jasmin Hofman
Jasmin Hofman is a strategic professional and coordinator of LDE Global and the International Centre for Frugal Innovation. She develops crossover initiatives that bridge research, education, policy, and practice. With experience in designing educational programs, workshops, and innovative concepts, she leverages her expertise to foster collaboration and deliver impactful projects.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
In this blog, ISS MA Student, Sagar Jung Karki looks into the rise and success of the 2025 ‘Gen Z’ protests in Nepal, that grew into a society-wide protest movement against corruption in the Nepali government. The protests eventually ended with Nepali Prime Minister KP Sharma Oli stepping down. Sagar Jung Karki looks into the way that the protests developed, the reasoning behind their rise, and looks at what may happen in the coming months and years following the protests.
Caption: AI- Generated Abstract Simulation of Singha Durbar palace in Kathmandu on September 9, 2025
Introduction
In less than a week, the Generation Z (Gen Z) protests in Nepal toppled the government, dissolved the parliament and installed the country’s first female prime minister. This was more than a protest; it was a generational awakening that refined Nepalese politics. Moreover, the movement serves as a valuable case study for examining how conflict and development theories explain the tensions and aspirations driving it.
Causes of the Gen Z protest
The Gen Z protest that swept Nepal from 8 to 13 September 2025 became a defining moment in the nation’s history. It was partly inspired by similar youth movements in Bangladesh, Indonesia and Sri Lanka. The protest deeply resonated with youths like myself in a country where power had switched between three entrenched political parties that had been ruling for decades. There were three main reasons for the upheaval. First, there is the rampant corruption, in a country with extremely high levels of inequality. Multiple corruption scandals were exposed by the media in recent years, including the fake Bhutanese refugee scam, the visit visa scam, the airplane purchase scam, and the Baluwatar land scam. These recurring scandals led to growing despair, especially among youths. Secondly, 26 social media platforms like Facebook, Instagram, and YouTube were completely banned on 4 September after being unable to register in the country. Most of the Nepali population, specifically the youth, used these platforms for daily communication. Defying suppression and the gag on their freedom of speech and expression, the youths turned to Virtual Private Networks (VPNs) to criticize the politicians and their ‘Nepotism Kids’ (also known as Nepo Kids)as well as plan the protests. In the days before the protest, social media was filled with content mocking politicians’ families for flaunting wealth while ordinary people struggled to make a living. Third, another significant trigger for the protest was the viral video of a provincial minister’s car hitting a little girl on a zebra crossing and escaping the scene. These series of events forced the Nepali youths to march to the streets in protests hoping for change.
Source: Context News
The aftermath of the protest
The protest initially began peacefully with college students, youth activists and others protesting in designated areas. But the calm was shattered when police opened fire and killed 19 protesters. The next day, the demonstration intensified into vandalism and anarchy with key national assets – including the parliament, presidential residence and supreme court. Most of the politicians’ homes and properties across the country were destroyed. In addition, supermarkets, hotels, showrooms, and other public spaces sustained extensive damage. While many fled to hideouts with military help, some politicians narrowly escaped death at the hands of the youth mob.
Elections for the House of Representatives have been announced for 5 March 2026, despite the opposition of the old parties. However, there are lingering questions about how the elections and the future unfold and whether the changes demanded by the protesters are formalized and institutionalized. Many youths, including the founder of Hami Nepali, have shown interest in contesting the election. For formal representation, however, Gen Z will need the formulation of new political parties and secure an election majority. This will be a difficult and time-consuming process, given the rural stronghold of the three old parties. There is another challenge as the old parties still hold a majority in the provincial and local government levels. Beyond politicians, addressing governance malpractices will require a range of institutional changes in bureaucracy and paradigm shifts in cultural practices. Such changes will take time, but for now, all eyes are fixed on the upcoming elections and whether Gen Z-led political parties will gain the majority to form a government.
Key Takeaways
At its heart, the Gen Z protest in Nepal was more than a political outburst, it was a clash between generations, power, and unmet promises. Political Scientist Henrik Urdal’s analysis of ‘youth bulges’ can be better understood through the lens of Conflict theory helps explain this tension. When a large youth population feels excluded from decision-making and struggles with economic insecurity, frustration builds. Nepal’s young people, digitally connected and politically aware, turned that frustration into collective action. Social media became their loudspeaker, uniting scattered voices into a nationwide movement. Ironically, government attempts to suppress dissent only confirmed the protesters’ belief that their leaders were out of touch, echoing conflict theory’s idea that repression often fuels, rather than calms, public anger.
From a development perspective, Nepal’s story reflects the tension between a weak state and a strong society. Years of corruption and poor governance weakened institutions, but civil society, especially youth groups, showed remarkable resilience. Organisations like Hami Nepal and online communities stepped up where the state faltered, proving that civic energy can fill governance gaps. Yet, as development theories reminds us, activism alone cannot replace institutional reform. The army’s temporary role in stabilising the situation showed both the trust citizens still have in traditional institutions and the fragility of democratic systems that depend on them.
Ultimately, Nepal’s Gen Z reminded the world that even in fragile democracies, young people can reshape political landscapes. Their protests were not just about anger, they were about reclaiming voice and accountability. For policymakers, the message is simple: when states fail to listen, societies speak louder.
Across Asia, and beyond, similar Gen Z movements are emerging, digitally savvy, and justice-driven. Among the countries experiencing crises and catastrophes, some have recovered and transitioned, while others have continued to suffer. It is yet to be seen whether these upheavals will bring in the demanded changes in the countries or fail to do so.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the author:
Sagar Karki
Sagar Jung Karki is a current MA in Development Studies student at the International Institute for Social Studies (ISS), specializing in Economics of Development (ECD). He previously worked for think tanks on development consulting projects in Nepal. His research interests are trade and investment policies, sustainability, globalization and development.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
In this blog, Eyob Balcha Gebremariam offers a deeply personal yet widely resonant reflection on the invisible boundaries that shape knowledge production in global academia. Drawing from his lived experience, he unpacks how the quest for epistemic relevance often clashes with Western-centric validation systems, how the dominance of English marginalises local languages and worldviews, and how the politics of passports continues to gatekeep academic mobility and belonging.
I write this reflection piece to use my personal experiences as a UK-based academic with an Ethiopian passport as a lens to comment on the structural power asymmetries of the academic landscape. I believe I’m not the only one facing these challenges. However, there is hardly sufficient attention, recognition, and space to discuss them. I have no intention of reducing the importance of other challenges by focusing on these three topics. I focused on the three hurdles because I experience them in everyday scholarly work and am determined to engage in critical discussions and reflections.
I often engage with the notion of coloniality when I comment on power asymmetries in academic knowledge production. Coloniality is too abstract for some people, whereas it has become a buzzword for others. However, for people like me, coloniality captures the challenges and obstacles of everyday life encounters. For many of us, it is a daily lived experience. In this piece, I aim to offer a personal reflexive account of coloniality based on the multiple positionalities I occupy.
Epistemic (Ir)relevance
In my academic career, I’m constantly conversing with myself about how relevant my work is to my community in Ethiopia. I was born and raised in Ethiopia. I always want to measure the relevance of my academic career with a potentially positive contribution to policy ideas and practices at least in the Ethiopian context. This means I must develop a strategy to help me reach more Ethiopian audiences. However, the challenge is enormous, and I always need a thoughtful approach to overcome it.
In my field of studies and Development Studies in general, the higher I go in my academic career, the more incentives I have to remain disconnected and alienated from the community I want to serve. I will be more rewarded if I continue to produce academic outputs that target an audience completely distant from most Ethiopians. Even members of the Ethiopian community who may access my work, if interested at all, have minimal access to academic publications. I’m glad most of my outputs so far are open access. However, the fact that the academic outputs are not initially produced to be consumed by the community about whom the research is talking remains a significant challenge. Making academic outputs available free of charge on the Internet is one viable solution. However, this can also have its own layers of challenges, such as the difficulty of accessing academic English for the general public.
One strategy I’ve adopted is to write Amharic newspaper articles that help me translate some of the expertise I acquired in my studies into a relevant analysis of the present-day political economy in Ethiopia. I am unsure to what extent my effort in writing Amharic commentaries can help me be more relevant to my community. These seemingly simple steps of translation can be valuable. But epistemic (ir)relevance is broader than language translation.
Using language as a medium of communication is one aspect. However, language is also a repository of a society’s deep conceptual, theoretical and philosophical orientations. The epistemic irrelevance of my academic work is more manifested in my limitations in adequately and systematically using my mother tongue to explain key issues of development that could be relevant to my community and beyond.
Most of the conceptual and theoretical insights that inform my academic works on Ethiopian political, economic, and social dynamics are alien to the local context. On the other hand, throughout my educational training, I have not been adequately exposed to Ethiopia or Africa-centred knowledge frameworks and academic conceptual and theoretical orientations. Whenever this happened, they were not systematically integrated or implicitly considered less relevant than Eurocentric epistemic insights. I needed to put extra effort into reading widely to educate myself beyond the formal channels and processes of education. However, the impact remains immense. The more I continued to advance in my academic career, the more I gravitated away from Ethiopia-centred epistemic orientations. Hence, most of my academic insight remains less informed by these perspectives.
I want to emphasise that my concern is primarily about the systemic hierarchy of knowledge frameworks and the casual normalisation of marginalising endogenous and potentially alternative epistemic orientations. No knowledge can evolve without interaction with other knowledge systems. However, we can’t ignore that the interaction between knowledge systems is power-mediated. The power asymmetries between knowledge systems do not stop at the abstract level. They also translate into the institutional arrangements of knowledge production, the producers and primary audiences of the knowledge produced.
[Academic] knowledge is power! But not every [academic] knowledge can be a source of power. Most of the time, academic knowledge becomes a source of power if it is produced by the dominant members of society and for the use of the dominant members.
Language
Amharic is my mother tongue. Several languages in Ethiopia have well-advanced grammar, literature, and folklore. Like other places, these languages are sources of wisdom and knowledge for society. However, none are adequately recognised as good enough in the organisation of the “modern” education system, especially in higher education. After primary school, I studied every subject in English. Amharic remained only as one subject. When I joined Addis Ababa University, Amharic became non-existent in my academic training. Only students who studied the Amharic language and literature used this language as their medium of instruction. All other degree programmes were in English. This might be less concerning if a language is not advanced enough to develop fields of studies and disciplinary knowledge with abstract conceptions and ideas. However, I believe the Amharic language can serve as a medium of instruction for most fields of study, especially in the social sciences.
Studies show that the Amharic language evolved over 1,000 years and became a lingua franca of medieval northern and central highland kingdoms in present-day Ethiopia around the 12th century. The earliest literary tradition dates back to the 14th century, including religious texts, historical notes, and literature. (Image: Gee’z Alphbet @Haile Maryam Tadese of Lalibela)
The relationship between epistemic (ir)relevance and language is profound. To be more relevant to my community, I need to communicate in an accessible language and use language as a source of intellectual insights. This could be the most fulfilling academic endeavour. However, to remain a credible member of the academic community of my field, I must produce more in English, and the target audience should not necessarily be my home country community. To remain relevant to my home community, I need to adopt a different set of epistemic orientations, personal convictions and beliefs, and, sometimes, career and financial sacrifices. The additional burden and financial sacrifice are more prominent because it is doubtful that the current academic excellence and achievement framework in the UK or internationally will recognise academic output produced in non-European languages. I’m glad to learn more if there is anything I’m unaware of.
Passport positionality
My idea of passport positionality evolved through my experiences of travelling for academic purposes both across Europe and Africa. My definition of passport positionality is how academics at any level, primarily those with a “Global South” passport, must navigate various ideological, legal, administrative, financial, and psychological barriers to attend academic events or conduct research in countries other than their own. Understanding the interplay between legal and academic citizenship can help us reflect on the implicit and explicit barriers to belonging, exclusion, recognition, and representation. The legacies and current manifestations of colonialism create some forms of exclusion, favouring mainly Global North passport holders. The exclusion of academic researchers from various platforms and spaces of academic deliberations and decision-making processes just because of the barriers imposed on their legal citizenship is a serious structural problem.
At a personal level, I’ve heard several stories of racial profiling, especially in cases where the global south passport overlaps with brown and black skin colour, humiliating interrogation, and unjustified and unreasonable excuses of mistreatment. I share two personal experiences of how passport positionality shapes my travel experiences by creating tension between my academic and legal citizenship.
The first experience happened when I was contracted to facilitate a decolonial research methodologies workshop for an institute in a European country. The agreement was for the research institute to reimburse my travel expenses and to pay me a professional fee. As an Ethiopian passport holder, getting a Schengen visa to travel from the UK at a minimum includes travelling to privately run visa application centres and paying admin and visa application fees. This is on top of preparing a visa application document, where I’m expected to submit at least a three-month bank statement showing a minimum of £600 in my current bank account.
The most infuriating experience was finding the right appointment date and time because the private company only offers regular appointment options at certain hours. Otherwise, applicants are directly or indirectly forced to pay for more expensive premium appointment options. The company runs the visa appointment service to make a profit, so it has all the incentives to capitalise on potential customers’ demands. If seen from the position of potential travellers like me, it is unfair because the company is making money not by facilitating the visa application process but by making it less convenient and difficult.
I managed to get the visa and run a successful and enriching workshop. However, when I submitted my receipts for reimbursement, the institute refused to reimburse all the costs related to my visa application.
I was told that according to the country’s “travel expenses act, they [the visa related cost] are not costs that can be covered.” Honestly speaking, the visa-related expenses were higher than the travel expenses. I believe there are reasonable grounds for the mentioned policy. However, it is also clear that the policy has a significant blind spot. It does not recognise the challenges that people like me face, jumping multiple hurdles to do their work. Perhaps the people who drafted the policy could not imagine that a visa-paying national would travel to their country to provide a professional service. Hence, no mechanism of reimbursement was set. I used the email exchange with my contacts to highlight the system’s unfairness. Finally, I got reimbursed, and it was a good learning experience.
The second experience I want to share is related to my encounters with border officials at South African airports. Because of my work, I travelled to South Africa seven times over the past three years. Out of these seven travels, I was held at the airport five times for at least one hour or more by border officials who wanted to check the genuineness of my visa. A uniformed officer usually escorts me. When I leave the plane, I will be told they have been waiting for me and will check my documents’ credibility. Often, as I’m told, they’ll take a picture of the visa sticker on my passport and send it to their colleagues in London via WhatsApp to verify whether it is genuine. In the meantime, I will be asked several questions about the reason for my travel, what I do, how I received my visa in London, while I’m an Ethiopian, etc. Some valid and ordinary questions, but some unreasonable questions as well. None of this has happened to me in my travels to other countries.
After some time, I got used to it and plan accordingly. But it never stops being a significant inconvenience to be singled out just because of my passport. On one of these trips, I was travelling with my fellow UK-based Ethiopian academic, and I bet with him that we’d be escorted to a room and interrogated on our arrival. I won the bet. The border official even showed us the screen shot he was sent with our names, two Ethiopian passport holders, who needed to be cross-examined before being allowed to enter the country.
I share these experiences to encourage my academic colleagues to be conscious of their passport positionality and how it helped or constrained them to exercise their academic citizenship. The interplay between legal and academic citizenship needs more reflexive discussions.
Conclusion
I hope sharing these three hurdles of lived experiences can trigger questions, responses, and conversations. There are no simple answers and responses. However, I think it is essential to be aware that some of the buzzwords and abstract ideas we exchange in our academic conversations can lead to experiences far from abstract notions. Hopefully, my moments of internal struggles of questioning relevance, feelings of alienation, efforts of learning and unlearning, and the actual experiences of exclusion, especially when travelling, can contribute to having more grounded conversations when we talk about decolonising academic knowledge production in Development Studies.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the author:
Eyob Balcha Gebremariam
Eyob Balcha Gebremariam is an alumus of the International Institute of Social Studies. He is a Research Associate at the Perivoli Africa Research Centre (PARC), the University of Bristol and a Visiting Research Fellow at the Institute for Humanities in Africa (HUMA), University of Cape Town (UCT). He is a Member of Council at the Development Studies Association (DSA) of the UK and of EADI’s task group on decolonising knowledge in Development Studies.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
In this blog to mark the International Day of Disaster Risk Reduction (October 13), HSC Coordinator Tom Ansell dives into the role of ‘Early Warning’ systems and policies as part of Disaster Risk Reduction initiatives. They fit within greater DRR programming to make sure that people are warning in advance and can take precautions, or other measures, to prepare for an upcoming shock or hazard. The 2004 Asian Tsunami highlighted the need for more early warning systems for countries with Pacific and Indian Ocean coasts – these systems were triggered earlier this year after an 8.8 magnitude earthquake off the coast of Russia.
Managing the risks to people’s lives and livelihoods before, during and after a disaster (whatever the cause) requires looking beyond just ‘responding to a disaster’. Since the 1990’s, and the UN’s ‘International Decade for Natural Disaster Reduction’, attitudes towards the disaster cycle have matured and within many emergency management agencies there is some reference to several ‘phases’ of a disaster in a ‘cycle’. For example, the Australian Emergency Management Agency refers to the ‘prevention, preparedness, response, recovery’ phases (now considered a bit old fashioned!). The ‘risk management approach’ is currently the most modern frame for disaster preparation for and responding to a disaster, which focuses on risks rather than timelines: “establish contexts, identify risks, analyse risks, assess risks, treat risks” – and repeat!
Risks are themselves a mixture of hazards/shocks (something that might cause a disaster), vulnerability (socioeconomic conditions that might exacerbate the hazard), exposure (how close people, livelihoods, etc, are to the hazard), and coping capacity (the resources and protocols in place to manage risk).
To make a risk assessment, practitioners consider the severity of a risk, and the likelihood of it occurring, to make a compound ‘score’. Disaster Risk Management involves activities, policies, procedures and so on to mitigate risks (DRR), often by reducing vulnerabilities or exposure, or by increasing coping capacity.
So a systematic approach to DRR will approach all of these various components. It’s easy to see why knowing about a hazard early might make it easier to protect people and livelihoods. Or, in technical language: Early Warning increases coping capacity, by giving more time to prepare for a hazardous situation (by taking anticipatory action), thereby decreasing exposure! Within the humanitarian sector, programmes and interventions around this are usually referred to as Early Warning, Early Action (EWEA). Ideally, these activities should be contextual, appropriate, ‘people-centred’, community-based and/or managed, and inclusive.
What do Early Warning systems look like?
What an early warning system looks like is completely dependent on the context and hazard in question. The logic behind most early warning systems, though, is monitoring a hazard (say, a river level) and then triggering information sharing and next steps once a certain level of immediacy has been reached.
For example, the Syria Civil Defence (the White Helmets) co-developed an app-based early warning system for airstrikes, military activities, and knock-on emergencies during the Syrian civil war. A central command room processes incoming reports of, say, jets taking off from an air base, and then sends a warning via app and SMS to mobile phones in the region, with instructions to take cover. Prior to this system, early warnings of air strikes were spotted by people in watch-towers, and communicated by word of mouth and a walkie-talkie radio network, which led to delays in warning people about incoming danger. This app-based system could be used to warn of other incoming hazards, for example a particularly violent winter storm, upstream flooding, or seismic activity. The Netherlands utilizes a similar system for all manner of hazards, NL-Alert.
But whilst tech-enabled Early Warning systems have grown in the last 15 years, there are plenty of contexts where word-of-mouth, radio broadcasting, or an emergency network (the ‘telephone tree’ method) is the most effective way of getting information to people in time to evacuate, take precautions, or otherwise prepare. For example, if there is a river close to a community that periodically floods, people ‘upstream’ can monitor river levels, and spread the words to communities ‘downstream’ if there is particularly high water. This is also the case for knowledge passed down through the generations: if a particular species of animal usually leaves just before a violent storm, for example, this can serve as the ‘trigger’ to warn people.
Early Warning systems are equally useful for slow-onset disasters. An example here is part of the Productive Safety Net Programme (PSNP) in Ethiopia, which is designed to reduce the risk of famine during poor harvests by offering cash-for-work and cash transfers for people that mainly rely on local agriculture for income and to maintain access to food. The programme is ‘activated’ when drought has been detected for a certain number of months, depending on the region.
Early Warning for Tsunami since 2004
On 26 December 2004, a large underwater earthquake off the coast of Indonesia triggered 50-metre high waves that killed over 220,000 people, as well as leaving more than 2 million people homeless in 15 countries. At the time, Indonesia was not considered an especially high-risk country for tsunami, meaning that the at the time there was little monitoring of underwater seismic activity, or sea level surface. The Pacific Tsunami Warning Centre was only able to find out about the impending disaster through internet news stories about devastation in Thailand (itself also unprepared for underwater earthquakes or tsunami at the time), and so couldn’t warn countries with Indian Ocean costs in time.
Following the destruction of the 2004 tsunami, national governments, UN agencies, and NGOs all put renewed efforts into reducing exposure to tsunami and oceanic hazards. At an intergovernmental level, the tsunami sped up development and adoption of the Hyogo Framework for Risk Reduction (now surpassed by the Sendai Framework). At a national level, Thailand created a multi-hazard oceanic early warning system, with tsunami detection buoys and information sharing with Indonesian, Australian, and Indian detection buoys. These signals are sent to a national coordination centre, whereupon various operating procedures are activated. A warning is then broadcast in five languages by fax, SMS, through ‘warning box’ speakers, radio relay towers, public tannoys, social media and through radio and TV warnings. The system will be developed further to give direct to mobile phone warnings in the coming decades.
Indonesia, meanwhile, has developed a network of 553 seismographs, as well as using oceanographic modelling and local hazard mapping for low-lying coastal areas. Once this network detects seismographic activity, procedures include public announcements, vertical evacuation routes, and evacuation signage.
Outside of the Pacific region, the destruction of the 2004 tsunami impelled Caribbean governments to put together the Tsunami and other Coastal Hazards Warning System for the Caribbean Sea and Adjacent Regions (ICG/CARIBE EWS), a multi-hazard coastal early warning system, and since 2011 have integrated the CARIBE WAVE exercise, which simulates a tsunami or underwater earthquake evacuation. In 2024, over 700,000 people were ‘evacuated’ during the exercise.
Unfortunately, well-functioning early warning systems are not enough to completely mitigate the risk of a large disaster, as the 2011 Tohoku earthquake and tsunami demonstrates. More than 20,000 people died during the quake and 39-metre tsunami wave, with knock-on effects including the Fukushima Daichi nuclear accident, despite Japan having a well-developed tsunami early warning system. The worth of all of this preparation work was evident this July, though. An 8.8 magnitude offshore earthquake occurred off the coast of Russian Kamchatka, triggering early warning systems and causing precautionary policies in several countries (including Japan, Indonesia, Russia, and China), including evacuations. The earthquake did cause tsunami-like waves, though did not have the same destructive force as the 2004 tsunami.
Conclusion – early warning as part of a multi-level DRR framework
Early warning systems, then, are a key part of reducing disaster risk, especially to climactic and environmental hazards. But we shouldn’t equate that with completely eradicating risks, or indeed think that early warning is the only part of risk management and reduction that should be concentrated on. Early warning systems work best as part of a full multi-level DRR framework, with training and education on detecting hazards, well-developed protocols for early action, evacuation, or other mitigation measures; and a general policy to reduce societal vulnerability through equitable policies, reducing socio-economic inequalities, and strong governance structures.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the Author
Tom Ansell
Tom Ansell is the coordinator and programme manager of The Hague Humanitarian Studies Centre, and the Coordinator of the International Humanitarian Studies Association. He has a study background in religion and conflict transformation, as well as an interest in disaster risk reduction, and science communication and societal impact of (applied) research.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
In this blog, ISS Guest Researcher Kim-Tung Dao delves into the effects that European Union ESG (Environmental, Sustainability, and Governance) standards can have on export partners in the ‘Global South’. Whilst ESG regulations are an important tool for the EU to control corporate behavior, they can have unintended consequences on producers, including onerous paperwork, blocking access to markets, and creating hierarchies of knowledge and expertise. Rather than rigid models of compliance, the author argues for a more inclusive and flexible approach that concentrates on transformation.
European Union ESG regulations are reshaping global business practices, but their impact on the Global South remains complex and contested. This blog looks at the economic, social, and environmental dimensions of EU ESG frameworks in countries in the ‘Global South’ and proposes pathways toward more inclusive and equitable sustainability governance that respects diverse contexts and knowledge systems.
TheGlobalReachofEuropeanESGStandards
Environmental, Social, and Governance (ESG) regulations have emerged as central pillars in re-shaping corporate behavior toward sustainability, particularly within the European Union. The EU positions itself as a global regulatory leader, and its recent frameworks: the Corporate Sustainability Reporting Directive (CSRD), EU Deforestation Regulation (EUDR), and Sustainable Finance Disclosure Regulation (SFDR)- impose increasingly strict rules on companies operating within or trading with Europe.
While these frameworks aim to foster responsible capitalism and ecological stewardship, their influence extends far beyond European borders, raising a critical question: How do EU ESG regulationsshapeeconomic,social,andecologicaloutcomesintheGlobalSouth?Can these standards genuinely promote sustainable development globally, or might they inadvertently entrench existing asymmetries and constrain development pathways in the very regions they intend to benefit?
EconomicDevelopment:OpportunityorExclusion?
AccesstoGreenMarkets
EU ESG regulations can function as powerful catalysts for production upgrading (the process of moving to higher-value activities in global supply chains), enabling firms in the Global South to participate in emerging “green” value chains in EU countries. When effectively implemented, these standards allow exporters to secure long-term access to premium EU markets, differentiate products through sustainability credentials, and capture price premiums for verified sustainable goods. The International Trade Centre has documented how producers aligning with non-tariff environmental and social standards often gain entry to more stable, higher-value market segments, particularly in sectors like specialty coffee, ethical textiles, and certified forestry products.
However, the economic reality for many small and medium-sized enterprises (SMEs) across Africa, Asia, and Latin America reveals a different picture. For these businesses, ESG regulatory compliance costs often represent a significant barrier. The financial burden of certification fees, auditing costs, and infrastructure investments can be prohibitive. Administrative complexity through extensive documentation and reporting requirements strains limited resources. Additionally, many SMEs face technical capacity gaps. While the EU provides technical guidance documents, these often remain insufficient for practical implementation. The complexity of the regulations and guidance frequently drives SMEs to seek expensive external consultants, ironically often from EU or US firms, creating an additional financial burden and potential dependency that undermines the goal of empowering Global South businesses.
The EUDR starkly illustrates these challenges by mandating full traceability and due diligence for commodities like palm oil, cocoa, and soy. Research by ECDPM highlights how Indonesian palm oil producers, particularly smallholders, struggle with the mounting costs of compliance with traceability protocols (tracking systems). Without targeted support mechanisms, such regulations risk creating a “green barrier” to trade that disproportionately affects the most vulnerable actors in global supply chains.
SocialDevelopment:EmpowermentorImposition?
From a social perspective, ESG-driven supply chain due diligence can foster improved labor standards, gender equity, and protections against exploitation. As EU firms face increasing pressure to assess and mitigate human rights impacts across their value chains, this has stimulated rising investment in social infrastructure and monitoring systems. It has also encouraged greater stakeholder engagement with previously marginalized communities and advanced the development of grievance mechanisms and remediation processes (ways to raise complaints and fix problems). The Shift Project notes that ESG regulations can drive positive business and human rights outcomes when paired with effective enforcement and local capacity building. In sectors like cocoa and coffee, EU sustainability demands have encouraged certification schemes and community development programs, as documented in multiple Fairtrade Foundation reports.
However, these well- intentioned frameworks may inadvertently marginalize the very communities they aim to protect when not grounded in local contexts. While establishing fundamental workers’ rights is important, the challenge lies in how these standards are implemented. Many ESG standards emerge from European perspectives and risk disrupting informal economies that support millions of livelihoods, not because workers’ rights are inherently problematic, but because the implementation often lacks sensitivity to local economic realities. These frameworks often overlook local working traditions and traditional governance structures while imposing externally developed metrics that fail to reflect local contexts. In regions like West Africa, cocoa farmers often lack the support infrastructure to meet traceability requirements tied to deforestation monitoring, leaving them vulnerable to market exclusion. Moreover, rigid labor standards, if applied without considering local economic conditions and providing transition support, may displace informal workers without offering viable alternatives.
EnvironmentalGovernance:Protection or Appropriation?
EcologicalSafeguards
Environmental sustainability constitutes the cornerstone of EU ESG policies. Regulations like the EUDR aim to curb global deforestation and biodiversity loss by demanding verifiable, sustainable sourcing. These measures can catalyze the restructuring of multinational supply chains to prioritize conservation, adoption of more transparent environmental practices, and increased investment in ecosystem restoration and protection. By raising environmental due diligence expectations, the EU is effectively internationalizing its Green Deal ambitions, potentially accelerating global progress toward climate targets and biodiversity conservation.
SovereigntyConcerns
Yet, these ecological gains may come at the cost of local autonomy and environmental justice. As the RightsandResourcesInitiative(RRI) and the authors of ‘Pluriverse: a post-development dictionary’ argue, a “one-size-fits-all” model of environmental governance often overlooks Indigenous knowledge systems that have sustained ecosystems for generations. It often ignores local conservation practices that balance human needs with ecological integrity and fails to account for diverse cultural understandings of nature-human relationships. This dynamic can lead to what critics term “green colonialism,” wherein sustainability is imposed through externally defined metrics that sideline plural understandings of environmental stewardship. Furthermore, in many parts of the Global South, livelihoods and ecosystems are deeply intertwined. Forest-dependent communities, shifting cultivators, and pastoralists may find their access to land and resources restricted under ESG frameworks focused primarily on carbon storage and biodiversity indicators.
TowardInclusiveESG:APluriversalApproach
To ensure that ESG regulation contributes to truly equitable sustainability, fundamental shifts in both process and substance are essential:
Co-creationandSharedGovernance
Standard-setting must evolve from top-down prescription to collaborative co-creation. This requires meaningful engagement with diverse stakeholders from the Global South throughout policy design, representation of civil society, smallholders, Indigenous peoples, and local governments in governance bodies, and effective mechanisms for incorporating local knowledge systems and perspectives.
CapacityBuildingandTransitionSupport
The implementation gap must be addressed through comprehensive support systems. This includes dedicated funding for SMEs to upgrade practices and technologies, development of accessible and affordable traceability tools training programs that reach marginalized producers, and flexible implementation timelines that recognize different starting points.
JustTransitionIntegration
ESG frameworks must explicitly incorporate principles of justice and equity at their core. They should balance climate and ecological goals with social development imperatives, use context-sensitive indicators that respect diverse sustainability models, integrate benefit-sharing mechanisms that compensate communities for ecosystem services, and recognize the “pluriverse” of sustainability approaches beyond Global North conceptions.
BeyondComplianceTowardTransformation
EU ESG regulation represents a promising step toward responsible global capitalism, but the promise alone is insufficient. For ESG standards to support equitable sustainability in the Global South, they must transcend box-ticking compliance and embrace deeper, more inclusive frameworks. A pluriversal ESG model, one that integrates diverse knowledge systems, promotes justice, and fosters ecological stewardship, can offer a path forward. This requires humility, dialogue, and genuine co-governance from European policymakers and businesses. Without these elements, ESG frameworks risk reproducing the very inequalities they ostensibly seek to eliminate. The path ahead demands not just technical solutions but fundamental reconsideration of how sustainability is defined, measured, and governed. Only then can ESG truly deliver on its promise of a more equitable and ecological global economy.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the author:
Kim Tung Dao
Kim Tung Dao is a recent PhD graduate of the International Institute of Social Studies, Erasmus University Rotterdam. Her research interests include globalization, international trade, sustainable development, and the history of economic thought.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
In deprived families in less urbanized zones on the outskirts of Bukavu in the eastern Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), 2 out of 5 adolescents have become pregnant, have been forced into marriage, or have suffered from Sexual Transmitted Diseases (STDs), according to new research from the Humanitarian Observatory of DRC. The situation is alarming, and is particularly evident in households with neither employment nor income, related to the intensification of conflict in Eastern DRC since February 2025.
Photo 1: discussion with adolescents on sexual exploitation and abuse in Bukavu, eastern DRC, 20 August 2025
Alarming news for less urbanized zones
At least at 1.3 million inhabitants live in Bukavu city, the capital city of the South-Kivu province, amongst whom almost two third reside in less urbanized zones. Each girl in Bukavu has the right to a bright future, full of joy and harmony and with aspirations to contribute to the future of the community in which she lives, as well as to the development of her country. An enormous barrier to overcome that prevents many young girls from achieving this is sexual exploitation and abuse (SEA), the results of which include unwanted pregnancies, sexual slavery, forced marriage and Sexual Transmitted Diseases (STDs). UNFPA Democratic Republic of Congo | Adolescents and youth
A particularly egregious case of SEA appeared in the family of John, a resident of Hewa Street in the periphery of Bukavu, a state agent who lost his job when the Congolese Government lost the control of the city in February 2025. Not just, John became unable to find bread for his family, he lost any means to support his two adolescent daughters, who were still at secondary school and became in six months both pregnant and forced to marry. His wife also became pregnant in February 2025, and was unable to fulfil her usual small-scale business activities.
Adolescents discussing the issue
Talking to the Social Science Centre for African Development-KUTAFITI’s senior and junior staff, and members of the DRC Humanitarian Observatory on the issue, we report some following observations based on various discussions with adolescents:
(i) Adolescents are exposed to a range of sexual and exploitation abuse (SEA), which is exacerbated by the context of resource scarcity when parents became unemployed and without any economic activities which are slow to resume.
(ii) The phenomenon operates in such a way that female adolescents that are looking for food and other survival means find themselves offered sexual relations in exchange of favour and answer to their needs. When they hesitate by looking back to their families, the reality of lack of resources dominates the context; as a result, they fall on the trap with all possible consequences.
(iii) Adolescents mentioned the effects and consequences of digital platforms containing sexual videos and pornography. During the recent conflict, especially in February 2025, when military violence closed schools , and thus teenagers were spending more time at home and mostly with their telephones or friend’s telephones, leaving them vulnerable to being influenced by porn or porn-adjacent content.
(iv) An additional factor is the lack of sufficient information or awareness raising on how to cope with in the situation. The lack of appropriate knowledge and information in terms of sexual education among young adolescents and their parents also played a key role. This observation relates to the informal settlements where peers, parents and other community members are known to have pressured teens to engage in sexual activities for some gain or benefits such as dowry, gifts.
(v) These and other similar situations place girls in the context of vulnerability of sexual and transmitted diseases, sexual slavery and forced marriage in some cases.
What needs to be done? Some lessons learnt from the context
There are some lessons that are worth to mention following the context of peripheral neighbourhood of Bukavu during the time of conflict; they include among others:
Integrating Community Watch programmes
In schooling activities or not, it would be better to integrate community watch-dog programmes such as ‘Creating Community Safety Groups’ that can try to ensure some form of security with no police presence. This would prevent any sexual exploitation and abuse (SEA) by uncontrolled bandits, where the deployment of the police is only in most urban areas, therefore no sufficient security guarantee. At the same time, take education initiatives that young women inform their parents and family members about their daily plans route and destinations.
Being aware of the dangers of remote paths and being alone at night
Shortcut roads and remote paths, particularly in the early morning and late evenings, where there are few users of footpaths can be dangerous and expose women to the risk of SEA. We found that avoiding those roads in those times and avoiding walking alone could contribute enormously to mitigating such risk.
Educate young women to the dangers of unidentified men
In the context of conflict, avoiding men that are not identifiable or known to women. Some of them can be armed, and might expose girls and young women to SEA.
Get to near health centre
In case of sexual assault or/and any form of sexual violence, it is better to reach quickly the nearest health facility or centre for appropriate health care. Sexual Transmitted Diseases and Infections including HIV and unwanted pregnancies are preventable, and treatable.
Recommendations follow three areas
Youth, young men, girls and young women need to mobilize themselves in carrying out these messages in their networks and should consider speaking up to prevent the phenomenon.More information raising to disseminate among parents and adolescents so to bring consciousness to those directly concerned about risks and damages of SEA. This includes raising awareness about Sexual and Reproductive Health among male and female adolescents through “Teens workshops” and “Church and School visits and discussions on the topic”.
Provision of youth services on Sexual and Reproductive Health.Provide access to Sexual and Reproductive Health (SRH) information and counselling through mobile phone services, free of charge and available for youth both male and female adolescents, reachable at non-profit organisation such as KUTAFITI or Panzi foundation. This includes sensitization and awareness raising among parents, especially mothers, community leaders, and adults living in the community as they form the centre of education to their children.
Encouraging Village Saving and Loan Association (VSLA) for mothers and teenagers.
Though the context of conflict, Village Saving and Loan Associations (VSLA) have the potential to create small-scale business activities for teenagers, young women and their mothers not just to enable them to have cash, but also to allow to resist to any temptation that would endanger their future. Where they exist, to strengthen them by bringing into more safeguard measures for its sustainability and to create, strengthen it where it does not exist.
[1] We recognize the active participation of adolescents in the discussion held by the Social Centre for African Development-KUTAFITI, member of the DRC Humanitarian Observatory of 20 August 2025 from which we wrote the current blog.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the authors of the post in question.
About the authors:
Myriam Wanga Milabyo is a Master in Public Health Student at Kenyatta University in Kenya, member of the DRC Humanitarian Observatory and member of the Social Science Centre for African Development-KUTAFITI.
Patrick Milabyo Kyamusugulwa is Professor at the Bukavu High Institute of Medical Techniques, in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC). He is member of the DRC Humanitarian Observatory and member of the Social Science Centre for African Development-KUTAFITI.
Delu Lusambya Mwenebyake is a PhD researcher at the International Institute of Social Studies (Erasmus University Rotterdam). Delu is member of the DRC Humanitarian Observatory and is working on humanitarian governance in the Democratic Republic of Congo.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
This blog is part of the Humanitarian Governance: Accountability, Advocacy, Alternatives’ project. This project has received funding from the European Research Council (ERC) under the European Union’s Horizon 2020 research and innovation programme under grant agreement No. 884139
Land lies at the heart of contemporary politics. As a site of contestation and negotiation, land is central to struggles that affect us all. The Oxford Handbook of Land Politics , edited by ISS Professor Jun Borras and Jennifer Franco, brings together contributions from leading scholars in critical agrarian studies, offering an invaluable guide to these debates. In this blog, Ian Scoones reflects on the book and its timely contributions.
Illustration by Federico ‘Boy’ Dominguez
Land is central to contemporary debates about politics. Land sustains the livelihoods of millions through farming, livestock keeping, hunting and collecting. Such livelihoods are intimately bound up with nature, and the complex and diverse ecosystems that thrive on land. Land creates a sense of identity refracted through gender, race, class and other axes of difference. Through diverse institutions and forms of authority, land connects citizens and states, corporations and capital, and is the locus of accumulation, extraction and control. Access to land is thus contested, negotiated and claimed through multiple, competing actors, linked to a myriad of struggles. Land, in other words, connects us all through its politics. This is why the newly-published Oxford Handbook of Land Politics is so important. Across 38 chapters (880 pages), written by a veritable who’s who of the broad field of critical agrarian studies, the book offers an invaluable guide to these debates, with a stellar overview and introduction. from its editors, Jun Borras and Jenny Franco. What follows are some reflections taken from the Foreword that I wrote.
At the end of the Foreword, I ask, what are the new axes of debate, transforming our understandings of agrarian change and politics of land offered in the pages of the Handbook? There are many, but I highlight just four.
First is the move from seeing land as only a site of production and so accumulation, but also social reproduction, and the locus of highly gendered social and cultural relations. This suggests a much more diverse land politics going beyond class to gender, race, identity and so on. It in turn suggests a renewed focus on labour, with complex livelihoods generated from multiple sources beyond the fixed plot of land, through migration, trade and so on. The classic categories of land-based classes centred only on production are thus unsettled as new forms of livelihood are created. As a result, the dynamics of differentiation and accumulation shifts, with land politics changing as a wider appreciation emerges of Henry Bernstein’s classic questions of agrarian political economy – who owns what, who does what, who gets what and what they do with it?
Second, the centring of nature, environment and climate in relation to land is a theme that resonates across many chapters. Humans and nature (and so land) are inseparable yet have often become disconnected by the forces of capitalist modernity. The importance of reconnecting is central, requiring a new political ecology/economy of land. This has deep implications for how we see land; again not just as a demarcated plot, but as part of a wider living landscape and territory, within a broader planetary system. This in turn highlights the crucial connection between land and the climate crisis. Changing land use, whether through deforestation, intensive agriculture and extraction of water or minerals is a major contributor to climate change. As the regimes of extraction evolve under new frontiers of capitalism, land is central. Such regimes of food, water and energy are constituted through a contested politics and, as the imperative to switch from fossil fuel dependence and intensive, polluting systems of agriculture accelerates, new challenges emerge. In the rush to ‘net zero’, for example, alternative energy, climate adaptation and nature-based ‘solutions’ are offered, yet all these have implications for who controls the land, with land grabs increasingly justified in the name of green and climate ‘transitions’, which in turn create new land-based politics across the world.
Third, many chapters argue for going beyond a narrow, individualised approach to land rights, tenure security and land governance. This managerial, administrative and technocratic frame dominates policy thinking but is incompatible with the realities on the ground. As the introduction points out, such efforts to provide ‘security’ for women, Indigenous peoples and others can paradoxically lead to opportunities for dispossession, as speculation, appropriation and extraction increase in areas where ‘regularisation’ has generated legibility through demarcation and delimitation. Instead, there is a need to think about land as constituted through hybrid, mosaic forms of property relation, with property-making as a continuous, contested and negotiated process. Land is always embedded in power relations and so thinking about how authority over land is generated – through interactions between citizens, states, corporations and other actors – can help us elaborate more appropriate democratic institutions for land control and a more innovative, grounded approach to ‘land governance’.
Finally, the Handbook points to the importance of understanding land as a ‘regime’, situated in a wider historical political economy context. As the introduction highlights, a land regime – just as a food regime – is stabilised, perhaps only tentatively and temporarily, by a set of political-economic forces that operate within a particular phase of capitalism. But regimes change due to the intersection of local struggles and wider political forces and interests. Today these are influenced by new frontiers of extraction and accumulation, linked to globalised economic relations, changing food systems and heightening climate-environment imperatives. Meanwhile, authoritarian, populist regimes define the nation in terms of the relationship between ‘the people’ and their mother/fatherland, always in ways that act to exclude some, while incorporating others in a populist politics of land and belonging. Until we understand this wider historically situated, structural context, the attempts to address the pressing challenges of land and its use at more local levels – whether through moves to agroecology or food sovereignty, for example – will remain elusive.
The Handbook is a rich, diverse and deeply informed collection, mixing theoretical perspectives and grounded reflections. By going beyond a narrow Marxist canon to encompass a wide array of perspectives, no particular line is taken. The introduction encourages readers to find their own way, to read across conceptual framings and reflect on different dimensions – in other words to generate a critical sensibility to agrarian studies and land politics.
For any student of land, or indeed politics more generally, as well as activists and practitioners grappling with the challenges of land politics, this Handbook is an enormously valuable and vital resource.
Note: There are two publication dates mentioned on the website of the Handbook: 2022 was the year when the Handbook project formally got started; 2025 was when the Handbook was actually completed and published as a whole.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the author:
Ian Scoones
Ian Scoones is a professor in the Resource Politics and Environmental Change cluster. He was co-director of the ESRC STEPS Centre at Sussex (2006-21) and the principal investigator of the ERC Advanced Grant project, PASTRES (Pastoralism, Uncertainty and Resilience: Lessons From the Margins, (2018-2023).
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
Earlier this year, Bilge Sahin and Phyllis Livaha, with support from Anne Biwott, organized a one-day workshop in collaboration with Grace Agenda—a Kenyan civil society organization that supports survivors of the 2007–2008 post-election violence. The workshop, held in Nairobi, focused on care and healing in the lives of survivors of sexual violence. The goal of the workshop was to shift the narrative from violence and victimhood toward one of agency—highlighting the everyday realities of survival, resilience, and the process of rebuilding life. This blog piece focuses specifically on the experiences of Jaqueline Mutere, founder and director of Grace Agenda, offering insight into the importance of healing and care. Her perspective sheds light on the often-overlooked roles women play in mitigating violence, sustaining families and communities, and fostering social cohesion during and after conflict. This blog has been put together in a specific narrative style, weaving together academic observations with the words of Jacqueline which are italicized for clarity.
“Together with other survivors that we work with, we offer care and support to others, to enable them work through their trauma”
Photo Credit: Authors
In the field of peace and conflict studies, care is often overlooked—its significance overshadowed by the dominant focus on violence and suffering. This reflects broader biases in knowledge production and the privilege of certain narratives over others. Yet, when care is taken seriously in contexts of violence and armed conflict, it opens up space for a more nuanced understanding of how individuals and communities navigate recovery and ongoing violence. Recognizing that care and violence often coexist is essential to grasp the realities of rebuilding after conflict.
Crucially, centering care should not romanticize or erase the enduring pain and hardship survivors’ experience. Rather, care and violence often operate simultaneously. Efforts to heal and rebuild are ongoing and form a vital component of everyday peacebuilding. Understanding these care practices is essential to appreciating how resilience and recovery take shape in communities affected by conflict.
Fisher and Tronto define care as “everything we do to maintain, continue, and repair our ‘world’ so that we can live in it as well as possible. That world includes our bodies, ourselves, and our environment, all of which we seek to interweave in a complex, life-sustaining web.” This definition deepens in real life experiences:
“For a longtime after the birth of my baby, I struggled a lot with self-worth. Because this pregnancy was hidden and my body suffered through it, the post-natal care and recovery was no less brutal. But as soon as I realized that my children would suffer tremendous loss on so many levels, physically emotionally, economically…. It came to me that I need to recover FOR MYSELF so that I could give back to my children and give them the life they deserved, BUT…it all started with ME. So, I had to start the work internally, before reaching out to my children and doing damage control because I realized my internal turmoil had affected my personality and hence my relationships with those near and dear to me…I realized that my children would suffer at the hands of these who despised me. This realization hit me like a rock, but sparked a fire in me so deep. I started on a journey of daily self-reflection, first of all dealing with the historical bile that I felt for those around me in treating me like a pariah, and more so the perpetrator who intentionally inflicted this heinous offence of raping me.”
Building on Fisher and Tronto’s insights, we see that care is embedded in the everyday work of peacemaking. Peace is not merely the product of formal agreements or political transitions—it must be understood through the lived realities of those who have endured violence. For survivors, violence often continues to manifest in their daily lives, relationships, and bodies. Peace, then, becomes an ongoing, embodied effort—one that involves negotiating and resisting gendered, militarized, racialized, capitalist, and colonial structures. Therefore, for survivors of sexual violence,the impact of unresolved mental stress and the small acts of self-care help navigate their daily life, symbolizing ongoing healing and techniques for rebuilding peace:
“I have realized that when I have a lot of things on my mind that I have not processed and made decisions on, continue to nag me, robbing me of mental peace. This affects how I eat and sleep. Also, if my body doesn’t get enough rest, I get headaches and feel heavy the entire day. But if I get an opportunity per chance to take a power nap and calm the nerves through sleep. I realized waking up that the tautness in my body has left, I gain clarity of thought, able to process and conclude issues faster. This automatically puts me in a more positive mood. I love my house and a clean environment, I love and care for my plants, that I talk to when watering them. The green of the plants give me peace, seeing them flourish does something to my insides, and so I endeavor to maintain this equilibrium. What I wish I could do for myself is have the same energy for domestic, work that I had previously. But with age comes certain physical limitations and so with the added responsibilities of supporting others, I am not able to do as much as I would like to. What I still enjoy is cooking… for myself, for my children, for others, and making things work around me.”
A feminist understanding of peace locates its meaning not in political pronouncements but in the everyday lives of survivors—where acts of survival, care, and the pursuit of dignity become central to peacebuilding. In these everyday struggles and strategies, care—whether for oneself, for others, or received from others—emerges as foundational to life-making and community-sustaining practices.
“This process of realizing that because my children needed me, dawned on me that I was valuable to SOMEONE, my kids. This bloomed in me, awakening a flower of hope in me. With this realization I reflected on those who were not so lucky as me, who had no family, were orphaned and were going through the same trauma and journey of healing like me, those less fortunate and more vulnerable…. This flicker of fire grew to where I committed to make others better and not have to go through what a tunnel of blackness I had just overcame. This then has become my life`s work in supporting others to get back in touch with themselves after trauma of sexual violence and realize that it is not others who qualify your worth and value, But YOU!”
A feminist ethics of care resists essentialist and individualistic interpretations of survival. It recognizes that healing after sexual violence cannot rest on the shoulders of individuals alone. Instead, it requires collective efforts—relational networks of mutual support built on empathy, solidarity, and shared struggle among informal survivor networks or through grassroots organizations. Mutual support is at the center of Grace Agenda’s mission:
“Together with other survivors that we work with, we offer care and support to others, to enable them work through their trauma. Appreciating and realizing stigma (the silent derogatory ridicule) that survivors go through, we create an environment that one can be themselves and start on the journey of healing. Rape has a culture of silence, and together in solidarity we have come out to challenge the culture of silence around the violation. We came together to initiate Grace Agenda that speaks of Reparations for Sexual Violence, develop self-agency to speak for oneself your concept and perception of justice, and memorialize the journeys, to healing, championing the same for the impact of the violation like the children that have been born from rape”.
Among survivors and the civil society organizations that support them, networks often form around affection, trust, and a shared commitment to healing. These relationships address not only trauma but also the economic and social challenges that survivors face. As Browne et al. remind us: “given our interdependence and vulnerability, it is caring that sustains us and can therefore serve as a starting point for imaging a different kind of politics.”
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the authors:
Bilge Sahin
Bilge Sahin is an Assistant Professor of Conflict and Peace Studies at the International Institute of Social Studies (ISS), Erasmus University Rotterdam. Her teaching and research explore the complex intersections of gender, sexuality, war, and security.
Phyllis Livaha
Phyllis Livaha is a senior lecturer at Erasmus University College, Rotterdam, where she teaches international law and international relations courses. Her research interests include women’s rights, human rights law and international relations. Her current work focuses on decolonization and critical (legal) analysis.
Jacqueline Mutere
Jacqueline Mutere is the founder and director of Grace Agenda in Nairobi, Kenya, which she established in 2010 to support survivors of sexual violence during Kenya’s 2007–2008 post-election crisis. Her work, which initially focused on children born of rape, has grown to champion reparations, survivor dignity, and mental health recovery. Mutere has been nationally and internationally recognized for her leadership, including nominations and awards from Kenya’s Women Human Rights Defenders and Physicians for Human Rights. She serves on regional and global networks such as the East African Women Human Rights Defenders Network, the SEMA Network, and the Geneva Centre for Humanitarian Studies Steering Committee. She continues to mentor youth champions challenging stigma and has co-authored research on children born of sexual violence.
Anne Biwott
Anne Biwott works with grassroots organizations to challenge harmful gender norms and champion for equity and equality for all.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
Police violence against recent protests by civil society groups and social movements marks the biggest challenge for Indonesia’s Prabowo administration and tests the Indonesian political class’ commitment to democracy. In this blog Iqra Anugrah and Rachma Lutfiny Putri explain how Oligarchic agendas of the elites have led to disastrous policy choices, triggering the protest movement. Progressive politics, despite its lack of leadership and clear ideology and platform, should maintain this momentum by defending itself from state repression and forcing elite concessions.
By the time of this writing, the clashes between the state and the movements had entered a period of protracted de-escalation. With the exception of some young liberal influencers who naively entered an appeasement dialogue with a few MPs, labor unions, women’s movements, and student activist groups still continue their grassroots advocacy and popular education works, while the police continue to detain those arrested.
Concrete policy shifts after this crisis are still unclear. Aside from the cancellation of the proposed housing allowance raise for MPs, the government has yet to meet other crucial demands: ending police violence, reducing excessive allowances for MPs and high-ranking officials, and addressing labor demands concerning fair wage and employment relations.
Deepening illiberal and authoritarian practices under Prabowo presidency suggest the limits of a democratic façade to oligarchic politics. This propelled widespread response from a broad alliance of grassroots social movements supported by the public and piggybacked by liberal-leaning groups and influencers. The ruling elites made only limited concessions to popular demands, while divisions between grassroots bases and liberal networks show how fragmented the civil society remains. The future will remain uncertain and bleak, but grassroots social movements can break this impasse by exercising their leadership and mobilizational power to force further elite concessions.
Photo Credit: Mori505 via Wikimedia
Drivers of the protests: the changing contour of oligarchic politics
As detailed by the People’s Liberation Party, this heavy strain on the state budget is further compounded by the ambition of Prabowo, himself a top member of the oligarchic elites, to implement his flagship Free Nutritious Meal programme, which has been poorly implemented, and increase military spending. This forced the central government to slash transfer funds for regional governments by 50 per cent in 2025. In turn, many local governments significantly raised property taxes, with some raising them by over 100 per cent.
Unsurprisingly, it becomes imperative for the ruling elites to further constrain democratic spaces to defend their interests. The tragic death of Affan, the excessive use of state violence, and the political elites’ lukewarm response to this crisis are clear signs of this development.
The nature of the protest coalition: Fragmentation amidst rising political consciousness
Responding to this elite assault, a series of protests started in late August. Of particular interest were the protests in Jakarta on August 28, the day Affan was martyred. They shared the same anti-government sentiment but differed in their policy demands and compositions of protest coalitions. Four participating groups can be identified:
These four groups, in varying degrees, continued their protests after Affan’s tragic death and intensifying police violence.
Afterwards, the coalitions and support for the protesters gained broad public support. Public jubilation and awe when witnessing the looting of the houses of problematic MPs, most notoriously the suspended MP Ahmad Sahroni, indicated the culmination of their collective anger.
These chaotic events, followed by increasing repression and control by the police and armed forces, led to the reappearance of a familiar trope in Indonesian politics: the dichotomy between peaceful and ‘anarchistic’ protesters. While we remain cognizant of elite manipulation behind these events and the excesses of street protests, we reject such dichotomy. Such as a false dichotomy, in our view, is cynically deployed by the ruling elites and the state to tame people’s militancy and divide the public. Further, as the case of violent attacks against student protesters resting at safe zones at Bandung Islamic University and Pasundan University showed, the police and armed forces have a long record of using the false dichotomy as a pretext to curb freedom of assembly and speech of dissident and marginalized groups.
As this chaos subsided, the latter phase of the protests witnessed the emergence of liberal influencers as accidental torchbearers of the movement. Political scientist Edward Aspinall argued that the proponents of this not-so-new counterculture of protest are student executive councils, unions and NGOs. His comprehensive analysis misses one new actor: liberal influencers with links to consultancy and ‘hip’ online media industries. Deliberately intervening into the ongoing dynamics, they summarized organic programmatic demands from various working-class and popular organizations into a laundry list of demands called the ‘17+8’ demands (a catchy reference to the Indonesian date of independence, 17 August).
While we recognize the value of such campaigns and their impact on raising political awareness among the urban middle class, we doubt their claims about actual campaign reach and policy impacts. We also criticize the inherent class bias and celebrity culture in their methods of activism which unfortunately sideline the role and agendas of actual working-class bases and organizations — groups whose agency played a key role in advancing the political aims of the protests and yet remains nameless and unseen. This attitude is emblematic of the cultural and political outlooks of the liberal/critical sections of the professional managerial class in Indonesia.
Our informal conversation with working-class activists involved in the protests and grassroots collectives reveal their anger and criticism toward the liberals. The main problem with liberal activism, in their view, is the lack of stronger labor and class demands and the dominance of liberal aesthetics and voice at the expense of aspirations and experiences of the most marginalized. From our conversation with them, we learned that the sacrifice of working-class activists at the frontline of the protests, including a dozen of ordinary labor and rural activists from our own personal networks detained or charged as provocateurs by the police, features mostly as statistics in mainstream media rather than stories of pro-democracy heroism.
Like their previous predecessors, liberal influencers are ‘floating’, divorced from the lived experience and consciousness of the masses. This detachment reveals a long-standing fault line in Indonesian civil society: between liberal and progressive–radical activism.
Take-away points
It is still too early to assess the impact and legacy of the 2025 protests, but we would like to highlight three important take-away points.
First, both ‘spontaneity’ and ‘leadership’ in mass movements are not opposites, but rather essential parts in a process to consolidate democratic leadership and institutionalization of social movements. As Rosa Luxemburg once reminded us, social reforms and spontaneity mobilized the oppressed, but revolutionary collectivity is mandatory to make their gains last.
Second, reflecting on the severity of state repression in recent protests, we reaffirm the right of the protesters to defend themselves against state violence through peaceful, and, under severe circumstances, disruptive methods. Our argument is not a provocation of violence but rather a view backed by research. A rigorous study has shown that disruptive actions by nonelites drive democratic deepening. Street protests and their dynamics are indeed the bloodlines of democracy.
Lastly, given the lack of success of the liberal influencers’ lobbying effort with the parliament, it is high time for grassroots working-class organizations to mobilize again. Only their leadership and political power can break this impasse.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
Disclaimer and acknowledgement: We maintain an active engagement with Indonesian social movements and our works since 2015 can be verified with various organizations, communities, and individuals that we have been working with. Currently we are conducting field research in Indonesia as Visiting Researchers at Agrarian Resource Center (ARC). In particular, we would like to thank our comrades at Progressive Islam Forum (FIP) and Kolektif SULU for insightful discussions on recent developments with them.
About the authors:
Iqra Anugrah
Iqra Anugrah is a Trapezio MSCA Seal of Excellence Fellow at the Department of Foreign Languages, Literatures and Modern Cultures at the University of Turin. He holds affiliate positions at the International Institute for Asian Studies (IIAS) at Leiden University and the Institute for Economic and Social Research, Education, and Information (LP3ES) in Jakarta. His current project examines multi-strand conservatism in Indonesia.
Rachma Lutfiny Putri
Rachma Lutfiny Putri is a Wenner-Gren Wadsworth International Fellow and a PhD candidate at the Department of Social and Cultural Anthropology, Vrije Universiteit (VU) Amsterdam and a Visiting Fellow at Populi Center. Her interests include urban anthropology, value chain, informal work, and development studies.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
In this blog, Ranon Jahan, a researcher at the International Centre for Climate Change and Development (ICCCAD, Dhaka, Bangladesh) brings together his thoughts following the Environmental and Climate Mobility Network conference held in Bonn, Germany, in July of this year. Through the comparative case studies of two rivers, he considers the interlocking issues of risk, climate mobility, and disaster governance.
Photo Credit: Rawnak Jahan Khan Ranon
“Millions of them must move”: a warning first voiced by William Vogt in 1948. Seventy-six years later, we are still counting millions of displaced people each year, with the numbers only growing. On 10th July 2025, as a young researcher from Bangladesh, I shared how it occurs in my home country at the Environmental and Climate Mobility Network (ECMN 25) Conference held in Bonn, Germany. The conference draws collective understanding on climate mobility which brought together 180 participants from across the world includes 128 presentations and 6 workshops. The whole conference was the platform for the researchers, practitioners and policy makers to share their findings, methods and recommendation. It explores both challenges and possibilities of governing climate mobility. These diverse perspectives reshaped how I see my work in global platform. This blog is my reflection on those connection where global narratives align with local realities, where they miss and why accountability in climate mobility governance matters now more than ever.
Two Rivers, One Story
I began my Bonn journey standing by the Rhine River, thousands of miles away from the Brahmaputra’s eroding banks in Bangladesh. The Brahmaputra is one of the largest rivers in the world, known for its powerful current and seasonal flood in Bangladesh. During monsoon, it becomes furious, with a shifting course. It can swallow homes, schools, agricultural land and entire villages, leaving families nowhere to go. When I was standing by the Rhine and looking into the its flowing water, I felt the same pulse of uncertainty that my fieldwork has shown me back home. Back by the Brahmaputra, my conversations with local communities were filled with stories of distress and uncertainty. Standing by the Rhine during the conference, listening to others speak of their own hardships and governance challenges, I realized those conversations were not so different after all. Presenting my findings there was more than a research, it was a way of placing a local story in a global current.
The conference quickly revealed that the issues I work on are not limited to one region. Listening to different research from around the world, I realized that the struggles of climate mobility transcend borders. In the same panel where one researcher presented statistics on Assam, India, estimating the staggering yearly costs of disasters, another shared how a single flood in Germany caused damages far exceeding those figures, despite advanced structural measures. The scale may differ, but the vulnerabilities and governance challenges are interconnected.
Photo Credit: Rawnak Jahan Khan Ranon
Beyond Climate: The Messy Web of Governance
Over three days, it became clear to me that climate mobility is not shaped by climate change alone. Geopolitics, global conflicts, and migration governance are constantly reshaping displacement narratives and dynamics. Much of the discussion revolved around finding better governance systems for this deeply complex issue. Yet, we also confronted a harder question: as researchers, are we clarifying or complicating the concept by layering on new terminologies?
The conference was a meeting ground of questions and stories of thriving, struggling, and striving migrants from across the globe, including my own presentation on displacement risk along the Brahmaputra. But when the conversation shifted from problems to solutions, the overwhelming complexity of governance took center stage. Speeches and presentations often concluded that governance needs to be both localized and global. Yet, the connection between the two is far more tangled than it sounds, echoing what some scholars describe through the lens of glocalisation—the uneven and sometimes contradictory ways global agendas are interpreted and reworked in local contexts.
My own presentation centered on multi-actor responsibility, leadership, and power-sharing as a way to reduce vulnerability to displacement at sub-national level. Yet, in reality, both Bangladesh and elsewhere, the governance remains limited, underperforming and far from adequately accountable. But after three days of attending different sessions, the questions left unclear to me is “who is accountable, how and to what extent?” In practice, accountability often moves through layers, what governments promise on paper, how institutions interpret it, and what actually reaches people on the ground. Yet true accountability should not end with legal or policy frameworks; it must be felt in practice through transparent decisions, meaningful participation, and clear limit on what those in power. And yet, I remain unclear about how this should ultimately be realized.
Photo Credit: Douwe van Schie
From Local Currents to Global Tides
One reality struck me that policy processes, reviews, advocacy, and negotiations move far slower than the pace of displacement. By the time governance systems are being negotiated, the communities we talk about have already been uprooted. Amidst all of these thoughts, my time in Bonn was overwhelming and filled with concerns and contested ideas around climate mobility. By the end, I couldn’t point to a single, immediate global action that would secure the rights and quality of life for millions at risk.
Yet, the conference was an eye-opener, giving me a macro lens to view my work. My story from the Brahmaputra may seem small in the grand scale of global climate mobility, but it resonated alongside every other study shared in those rooms. Each case added a knot to the tangled net of mobility challenges, showing the urgent need to both untangle these knots and zooming into those knots closely.
It left me with a powerful reminder that local stories are never just local, they are threads in the global fabric of climate mobility, and understanding them is key to creating governance that is both just and effective.
Acknowledgement
The author’s participation in the conference was supported by the European Research Council (ERC) under the European Union’s Horizon 2020 Research and Innovation Programme (Grant Agreement No. 884139).
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the author:
Rawnak Jahan Khan Ranon
Rawnak Jahan Khan Ranon is a Research Officer at the International Centre for Climate Change and Development (ICCCAD). With a degree in Forestry, he has developed his expertise at the intersection of natural resource management and social research on climate change. His work focuses on forest management, displacement, locally led adaptation, and accountability. He continues to study how governance and adaptation affect the lives of vulnerable communities in Bangladesh.
In his 1975–76 lecture series at the Collège de France, Michel Foucault famously declared, ‘Society must be defended’. While framed within the context of biopolitics and the genealogy of state violence, this provocation has found renewed relevance in the 21st century as new forms of warfare emerge. Today, the greatest threats to societies are not only kinetic or territorial but epistemic and cognitive. Cognitive warfare – an increasingly salient form of conflict – operates by targeting perception, social cohesion and identity, often exploiting the fault lines of gender, race, and class, to undermine collective resilience.
Photo Credit: United Nations
This blog post explores how NATO’s instrumental engagement with the Women, Peace and Security (WPS) Agenda intersects with these new threat environments. Despite normative commitments to inclusion, NATO’s implementation of WPS remains structurally tethered to operational efficiency and military effectiveness, rather than transformative gender justice. The rise of cognitive warfare, which thrives on polarization and symbolic manipulation, underscores the urgent need to reassess what it means to defend society. Rethinking defence in the cognitive age requires not merely stronger militaries but stronger democracies – and this is only possible by fully integrating marginalized voices, particularly women, into the foundations of security thinking and practice.
Cognitive Warfare: Targeting the social fabric
Cognitive warfare is a strategic practice that seeks to influence, destabilize and control the minds and behaviours of target populations through information manipulation, disinformation, psychological operations and narrative disruption. Unlike traditional warfare, its objective is not the destruction of infrastructure but the corrosion of shared meaning and societal coherence. In this form of conflict, the ‘battlespace’ is everyday life: news media, education systems, social media platforms and interpersonal trust.
Actors – both state and non-state – engage in cognitive warfare to reshape identities, manipulate emotions and undermine public consensus. These operations often capitalize on gender, ethnic and ideological divisions to deepen internal discord. For example, campaigns may weaponize narratives about gender roles, women’s rights, or ‘wokeness’ to generate backlash, recruit supporters or delegitimize institutions. Importantly, cognitive warfare targets not just what people believe, but their capacity to believe ‘together’, fragmenting the cognitive unity that underpins democratic societies.
The challenge cognitive warfare presents to traditional security paradigms is profound. Institutions such as NATO, built on hierarchical, masculinized models of defence, remain structurally oriented toward external threats, kinetic action and deterrence. However, when societies themselves become the battleground – through misinformation, distrust and symbolic violence – conventional tools fall short. A broader, more inclusive understanding of what constitutes security and who is responsible for producing it becomes indispensable.
The WPS Agenda and NATO: Between inclusion and instrumentalization
Since the adoption of UN Security Council Resolution 1325 in 2000, the Women, Peace and Security (WPS) Agenda has sought to mainstream gender perspectives within security and peacebuilding processes. NATO, as one of the earliest international actors to adopt a WPS action plan, has made formal commitments to increasing women’s participation, integrating gender-sensitive policies and addressing conflict-related sexual violence. However, feminist critiques have consistently argued that NATO’s engagement with the WPS Agenda has remained instrumental rather than transformative.
Rather than challenging militarized logics or hegemonic masculinity, NATO has largely used gender inclusion as a means of enhancing operational efficiency. Gender advisors, female engagement teams and gender training have been deployed to bolster mission success – particularly visible during operations in Afghanistan – without addressing the broader patriarchal structures of the alliance itself. Gender becomes a force multiplier, not a site of political transformation.
This approach not only limits the potential of the WPS Agenda but also creates vulnerabilities within the alliance. In an age of cognitive warfare, where legitimacy and perception are key, superficial inclusion can be co-opted or weaponized. Anti-gender movements, emboldened by populist and nationalist currents, have already begun to frame gender-sensitive policies as distractions from ‘real’ military priorities. Recent statements by US officials, such as Pete Hegseth’s denunciation of the WPS programme as ‘woke’, reflect a broader backlash against gender equality within defence institutions.
Such politicization renders NATO’s fragile engagement with WPS even more precarious. It also highlights a core contradiction: an institution that seeks to defend democratic societies cannot afford to marginalize the very constituencies that embody those democratic values. In failing to fully embrace gender justice, NATO not only undermines its own legitimacy but also cedes ideological ground to actors who seek to destabilize democratic cohesion through cognitive means.
The intersection of cognitive warfare and WPS reveals the limitations of a security architecture premised on traditional threat-response frameworks. Defence, in this context, cannot merely be about protecting borders or building military capacity. It must involve cultivating epistemic resilience, narrative sovereignty and social inclusion.
Women’s participation is not just normatively important – it is strategically essential. Excluding or tokenizing women undermines collective intelligence and leaves societies vulnerable to the very divisions cognitive warfare exploits. Conversely, including women in meaningful, leadership-level roles across security institutions expands the range of perspectives, narratives and strategies available to resist cognitive incursions.
Moreover, feminist security thinking – rooted in care, relationality and structural critique – offers tools for reimagining defence beyond violence. It prompts us to ask: What are we defending? Whose society is being protected? And how do we define threat in the first place? These are not ancillary questions but central ones in an age when the terrain of conflict is symbolic, social and affective.
To truly defend society, institutions must undergo epistemic transformation – not just integrate more women, but reconfigure how knowledge is produced, valued and operationalized. This involves dismantling the false binary between hard and soft security, and recognizing that resilience against cognitive warfare begins with inclusion, trust and equity.
Rethinking defence: Defending democracy from within
In light of these dynamics, it is time to revisit Foucault’s challenge: ‘Society must be defended’ – but how? The answer lies not in a return to fortress mentalities or reactive militarism, but in a proactive commitment to inclusive, democratic resilience. In the face of cognitive warfare, defending society means defending its pluralism, its capacity for critical thought and its inclusive institutions. It means moving beyond tokenistic gender inclusion toward structural empowerment.
NATO and other security actors must rethink what constitutes strength. In the long run, it is not military hardware but social cohesion, narrative legitimacy and institutional trust that will determine whether societies withstand the assaults of cognitive conflict. Women are not auxiliary to this project – they are central to it. As the global security landscape evolves, so too must our understanding of defence. In an age where societies themselves are the battlefield, the imperative is not only to defend, but to transform. And that transformation begins by taking seriously the voices, knowledges and futures that have long been sidelined.
This blog post is based on the authors’ presentations delivered at the Pre-NATO Summit event at De Haagse Hogeschool / The Hague University of Applied Sciences on 5h June 2025.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the authors
Shyamika Jayasundara-Smits
Shyamika Jayasundara-Smits is an Associate Professor in Conflict and Peace Studies at ISS/Erasmus University Rotterdam. She is a transdisciplinary researcher specializing in Political Science, with expertise in International Relations and Critical Peace and Conflict Studies. Her research and teaching focuses on the intersections of governance, development, armed conflict, post-war transitions, and peacebuilding.
Bilge Sahin
Bilge Sahin is an Assistant Professor of Conflict and Peace Studies at the International Institute of Social Studies (ISS), Erasmus University Rotterdam. Her teaching and research explore the complex intersections of gender, sexuality, war, and security.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
Global Governance and Policy Analyst Chimwemwe Salie Hara looks into the road towards achieving the Sustainable Development Goals by 2030 in this blog, arguing that reform of financing and governance must be made in the face of significant geopolitical tensions if we are to achieve better outcomes for countries across the world that ‘leaves no one behind’.
The world is experiencing an escalation of geopolitical tensions that have impacted development trends in various regions. These tensions have led to uncertainties as various shocks require responses from global development policies that are coordinated and cooperative between the countries in the ‘Global North’ and the ‘Global South’. Currently, the global value chain has been disrupted and high inflation rates have led to increased poverty for many people in both developed and developing countries. In addition, challenges such as wars, climate change which has exacerbated inequalities and immigration, and the rise of populism have made global cooperation more difficult as actors from the Global North and South have failed to tackle these important issues together. At a time when global governance institutions such as the United Nations are focused on achieving the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) by 2030, ongoing conflicts in regions such as Africa, Europe and Middle East are jeopardizing SDG 16, which emphasises the promotion of peace and SDG 17 of promoting partnerships to achieve all goals.
Nationalist turns in the ‘Global North’ hit development financing
The challenge of financing these global goals is exacerbated by a shift in priorities in relation to multiple armed conflicts. Much of the effort and attention is now focused on buying arms rather than investing in development cooperation programs that could help people affected by geopolitical crises, many of whom are currently living in dire poverty. Unfortunately, as a result of these geopolitical upheavals, some regions, particularly in Europe and America, have changed their development policies and prioritised security over global development cooperation. Recently, the ‘Dutch government’ announced to cut development cooperation and the British Prime Minister also announced to cut development aid and allocate more funds to defence security.And the USAID was disbanded with President Trump’s second term. This shows that most countries that had pledged 0.7% of their gross national income (GNI) to the United Nations are reducing their spending on official development assistance (ODA)/development cooperation. This puts progress towards achieving some of the SDGs at risk around the world, particularly on poverty, hunger, education and health.
This shift can largely be attributed to the rise of nationalist governments and populism, reminiscent of the situation in the United Kingdom (UK) during Brexit. Although, there are some efforts at engagement, such as the European Union’s (EU) Global Gateway Initiative (launched in 2021), which aims to strengthen relations with African countries, significant changes in their approach are still needed.
The focus should not only be on humanitarian aid, but also on investments in the energy sector development and trade that focuses on improving the value chain and governance as these remain major challenges for most African governments. For example, Malawi has an energy sector problem and poor road infrastructure development that affects industrialisation and trade for economic transformation. With allies like the EU through the Global Gateway Initiative, the country could improve its socio-economic development indicators. This approach would help achieve some development initiatives despite the geopolitical challenges.
Global governance has struggled with difficulties in development cooperation, especially in climate finance, even after the heads of state and government endorsed the Paris Climate Agreement in 2015. The situation worsened when the United States withdrew from the climate agreement during Donald Trump’s first term, and then again now in his second term as part of an inward-looking development policy and significant funding cuts under the nationalist slogans of ‘America First’ and ‘Make America Great Again’. This highlights the challenges facing global cooperation, leading to a decline in development efforts rather than strengthening solutions to tackle climate change. This call for radical reforms to international financial planning draws some lessons from the Bridgetown Initiative, which campaigned and advocating for reforming global financing in 2023 Paris Summit, France.
Reducing geopolitical tensions is key for better outcomes for all
With only five years left until the 2030 deadline for the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs), significant efforts must be made, especially by global leadership with negotiating experience, to reach common agreements that reduce geopolitical tensions. This focus is critical to advancing global development cooperation, especially in times of crisis. The geopolitical tensions on trade between China and the United States must be resolved amicably as no country can sustain itself in a globalized world with its own resources. This requires the intervention of institutions such as the World Trade Organisation (WTO) to protect global trade partnerships. Therefore, considerable efforts should be made to review trade agreements between the two countries on the basis of rules, not power. If these tensions escalate, they will disproportionately affect countries in the Global South, particularly in sub-Saharan Africa and others, as President Trump has already announced tariffs around the world, even on poor countries like Malawi.
Once geopolitical tensions subside, world leaders must find common ground to address the major challenges by organizing global development cooperation in a way that takes into account the interests of all stakeholders from the Global North and the Global South. Efforts should also be made to develop mechanisms that support long-term global sustainability goals. A global governance institution such as the United Nations should lead the reform process and ensure that global development cooperation adapts to current realities rather than relying on the development models of the 1940’s when most institutions were established. It is important to remember that the world is currently facing several geopolitical crises. Financing should also be a priority, as financial challenges are hampering achieving global goals. There is an urgent need to develop clear standards that apply more equitable and inclusive methodologies. This will help define future collective, complementary, and cooperative activities and responses.
The world needs a leader that can influence and set an example in this regard. The countries of the Global South, especially sub-Saharan Africa, should advocate innovative investment approaches such as the exchange of technical knowledge and value creation capacities with a liable partner. This would promote trade within the framework of the African Continental Free Trade Area (AfCFTA) established in 2018. In the long term, the continent will move away from dependence on the global economic system by promoting economic trade for socio-economic development instead of relying solely on aid. Financing opportunities for domestic revenue mobilization in the Global South should be promoted through the development of a strategy aligned with the 2015 Addis Ababa Action Agenda (AAAA). This approach can help finance the Sustainable Development Goals and close some of the gaps created by donor fatigue
In this way, voices from the Global South would have much to say about their development pathways, strategies, and tactics to combat poverty, food insecurity and cross-border challenges through collaborative and coordinated global development policies. In that way, SDGs ‘Leave no one behind’ by 2030 will be achieved. Currently, the system is still dictated by the countries of the Global North, be it in trade or in the financing of global goals thus why radical reforms are needed.
Therefore, to effectively address today’s polycrisis and global social issues, changing global development policy will require a consensus that prioritizes fairness, economic stability for all, and collaboration.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the Author:
Chimwemwe Salie Hara
Chimwemwe Salie Hara is a Global Governance and Policy Analyst and Programmes Adviser for Sustainable Livelihood Development at Opdracht (Mission) in Africa (AiO), The Netherlands. He holds an MSc in International Public Administration from Erasmus University Rotterdam, with a focus on governance, management, and policy. His work centers on globalisation, development cooperation, public policy, social protection, and humanitarian governance.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
Technological progress is at the core of the modern (Western) philosophy of science and innovation scholarship, as it promises to end human suffering. However, ignoring the ‘inner capacities’ necessary to guide technology design and its interaction with human mind for too long is causing human suffering. In this blog, Birendra Singh explores how Buddhist philosophy, emphasizing simplicity, experiential knowledge, self-reliance, and the middle path, can inspire new approaches to science, technology, and innovation in creating more human-centric and sustainable futures.
The world we live in is becoming increasingly uncertain, unequal, and unsustainable. The technology and innovation that was initially developed to improve living conditions is now also causing suffering. It is clear that the current development model driven by technological progress has created ‘winners’ and ‘losers’ in society. Because of this worrying development, philosophers, scholars, and religious teachers are revisiting philosophical underpinnings of the progress we have achieved thus far. Emphasis on inner self development and presenting moral framework to guide design and use of technology have been the essential part of this revisit (1). This philosophical revisit is necessary to search for alternative pathways to existing development models, which have failed to deliver the promised quality of life and equity for most of the world population by accelerating the concentration of wealth for a few.
Embracing frugality in (re)conceptualizing the field of Science, Technology, and Innovation (2) and focusing on ‘inner’ development to better respond to the sustainability challenges are suggested as possible alternative pathways (3). In this article, I will show that Buddhism is a philosophical outlook with valuable lessons that can be applied to this field. I will look at four aspects of the Buddhist philosophy and combine them with my lived experience in India, where I conducted my doctoral research on embracing experiential knowledge to practice frugality in addressing sustainability challenges (4). The aim of this piece is not to make a case for Buddhism but to take inspiration from its ‘pragmatic’ philosophical outlook in going ‘back to the basics’ and learning about different ways of embracing frugality, which has been an essential part of the Buddhist way of living. This exercise may be useful in searching for alternative futures, as historically and philosophically there is no direct relation between directionality and innovation or progress (5). In fact, chasing the direction of progress and centrality of materiality in development and innovation processes always carries a risk of leading to over-engineering and over-consumption.
No frills please — keep the story simple
The first thing we can learn from Buddhism is to keep the story simple in order to reach more people. Buddhism is no small religion; it covers a vast range of philosophical discussions, and millions of people practice it. Buddhism mainly has three traditions: the Pali, the Chinese, and the Tibetan. The Pāḷi tradition comprises the Sutta Piṭaka (discourses of the Buddha), Vinaya Piṭaka(monastic rules), and Abhidhamma Piṭaka(philosophical analyses). These three texts are written in Pāḷi, often considered as a mix of vernacular languages of the north India in Buddha’s time (i.e. Prakrit) and Sanskirt. All three Piṭakas try to avoids an endless discussion on supernatural powers, instead creatively engaging with ‘practical’ questions regarding everyday human life, such as code of conduct, practicing eight fold path to end suffering, and interaction between mind and its environment to make a sense of reality. The discourses of Buddha (Sutta Piṭaka ) present the discussions (often in the form of questions and answers) between the Buddha and his followers by means of storytelling. At present, with scholars facing enormous challenges in communicating complex research processes findings to communities and there is an increased pressure on them to ‘engage’ with society, embracing simple language and using storytelling methods could be helpful in helping bridge the gap between science and society.
Reality is multifold — experience it through body and mind
The next lesson that we can learn by looking at Buddhism is better recognizing experiential knowledge in making sense of a phenomenon. Interestingly, both the philosophy of science and Buddhism value sensory investigation and direct experiencing in searching truth. However, in contrast to the philosophy of science, the Buddhist philosophy does not stop at one type of truth. In contrast to modern (Western) Philosophy, Buddhism recognizes that there are at least two types of truth: relative and absolute (6). A relative truth can be experienced by an individual or group at a particular time or in a particular space. Experiencing this truth is an ordinary phenomenon which we all go through in our own realities. However, to experience the absolute truth, it is necessary to follow the eightfold path. One should be attentive or mindful to experience this truth. In practice, there is a direct relationship between mindfulness and experiencing the truth in Buddhism. In essence, the Buddhist philosophy accepts that reality is multifold and complex and suggests that it makes more sense to one if they experience it within the framework of body and mind. In a rapidly evolving and complex world, recognizing and emphasizing relationality and plurality in experiencing emerging through the interaction of the mind and its environment will be helpful for science philosophers and innovation scholars to contextualize technological solutions better while serving local needs.
The Buddhist philosophical outlook also preaches self-reliance and resilience. I grew up listening to one of the most powerful and popular quotes of Buddha, Appa Beepo Bhava (‘be your own light’). Some believe that these were the last words of Buddha to his disciple Annada just before he passed away. This teaching emphasizes self-reliance and the importance of learning from lived experiences rather than depending on external truth claims. Embracing mindfulness practices like vipassana meditation and following the eightfold path are tools people could use to develop their inner self while engaging with structural problems like sustainability challenges (3). Promoting problem-solving behavior and focusing on internal capacities, including practicing attention (7) and embracing frugality as ‘doing more with less’ mindset, could help shape a possible alternative pathway to sustainable futures, as it equips a person with knowledge and skills to navigate structural challenges more ‘smartly’ through adaptive thinking (8).
Be flexible — follow the middle path
Lastly, Buddhism shows us that moderation is desirable. Two other religions, Jainism and Charvaka, were contemporaries of Buddhism and philosophically competed with it. Jainism often advocates for self-denial for the betterment of others, while Charvaka preaches hedonism, where sensory pleasure is the supreme goal of the human existence. Buddhist philosophy disapproves of both these positions. The Buddha grew up as a prince and then spent several years rigorously practicing asceticism. Based on his lived experience, he suggested that extremism is not conducive to truth. Through his storytelling style of preaching, Buddha motivated his disciples to find a right ‘balance’ in philosophy, religion, and practice. His teaching often advocates in favour of finding a ‘middle path’ that often emerges from experiencing realities by following eight fold path. Following a middle path is particularly important in current social and political climate, where science and society are moving even further apart. Taking middle path is also crucial in moving beyond often superficial and delusionary dichotomies in understanding complex relationship between science and society.
Conclusion
Rising inequalities, consumerism, and the extraction of natural resources are some of the side effects of human progress. Some cultures practice frugality to mitigate these side effects either at philosophical or material level (9, 10). Thus, philosophers, scholars, and religious leaders have been revisiting philosophical underpinnings of current human progress to seek other ways of attaining societal goals without doing as much harm. Embracing simplistic, frugal, and human-centric principles contained of Buddhist philosophy offers a unique opportunity to rethink progress, especially in the field of science, technology, and innovation, and to search for alternative pathways to existing development models.
References
Allen, D. (2018). Gandhi after 9/11: creative nonviolence and sustainability. Oxford University Press.
Leliveld, A., & Knorringa, P. (2018). Frugal innovation and development research. The European Journal of Development Research, 30, 1-16.
Frank, P., Sundermann, A., & Fischer, D. (2019). How mindfulness training cultivates introspection and competence development for sustainable consumption. International Journal of Sustainability in Higher Education, 20(6), 1002-1021.
Singh, B. (2023). In search of grassroots frugality: Everyday learning and experiential knowledge to navigate water uncertainties in the Bundelkhand region, India. [Doctoral Thesis, Erasmus University Rotterdam, ISS PhD].
Sluiter, I. (2017). Anchoring innovation: A classical research agenda. European Review, 25(1), 20-38.
Bombaerts, G., Anderson, J., Dennis, M., Gerola, A., Frank, L., Hannes, T., … & Spahn, A. (2023). Attention as practice: Buddhist ethics responses to persuasive technologies. Global Philosophy, 33(2), 25.
Wright, R. (2017). Why Buddhism is true: The science and philosophy of meditation and enlightenment. Simon and Schuster.
Oudenampsen, M., & Mellink, B. (2022). The roots of Dutch frugality: the role of public choice theory in Dutch budgetary policy. Journal of european public policy, 29(8), 1206-1224.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the Author:
Birendra Singh
Birendra is a trained genetic engineer and STS Researcher with a PhD degree in Development Studies. He worked as a postdoctoral researcher at Knowledge, Technology, and Innovation Chair group of Wageningen University and currently affiliated to the LDE-International Center for Frugal Innovation hosted by ISS/EUR).
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
Despite claims of evidence-based policymaking, migration research is often sidelined – except when it serves political goals. In this blog, Riccardo Biggi explores how governments at national and local levels selectively use expert knowledge, depending on the policy area at stake.
Photo Credit: PACES Project
On 10 September 2024, U.S. President Donald Trump claimed that Haitian migrants were “eating dogs” as he ramped up the anti-immigration rhetoric during his election campaign. As absurd and dehumanising as that statement was, it reflects a broader political trend: migration politics are shaped not by facts, but by fear, myths, and political opportunism. The EU is no exception. From asylum laws to criminalisation of irregular entry, many European policies are built on dehumanising and patronising ideas about migrants, as well as discredited ideas about why people move, how they take decisions, and what works to manage migration.
As part of the PACES project, the research conducted at Leiden University by Katharina Natter, Niels Ike, Merel van Assem and myself shows that despite governments’ commitments to evidence-driven policymaking, expert knowledge is often ignored or distorted. Simplistic assumptions about migrants’ motivations dominate policymaking, disregarding up-do-date knowledge and evidence resulting from research. In some cases, knowledge is taken into account selectively, as it is primarily used in policies concerning migrant groups admitted to EU countries – such as essential workers and resettled refugees – highlighting the opportunistic nature of knowledge use in migration policy.
Common but flawed assumptions
Our study examined 180 policy documents – including laws, evaluations, and legislative debates – spanning from 1998 to 2024 in Austria, Italy, and the Netherlands, across three key policy areas: counter-smuggling, protection of refugees abroad, and attraction of essential workers. This was complemented by 35 interviews with Italian policymakers, NGOs and researchers. Our analysis found that despite different migration histories and political cultures, all three countries showed similar patterns in how they use (or don’t use) research. The degree of issue politicisation, as well as the institutional actors involved, crucially shape the extent to which policymakers draw on expert knowledge.
We identified a dozen of these recurring assumptions that continue to dominate in migration policymaking, for example, that smugglers are extensive, international criminal networks; that increased border controls are effective in reducing smuggling; that migrants are unaware of the dangers associated with irregular migration; that refugees will easily integrate in the region of reception outside Europe, contributing as an economic resource if well managed; that transit countries are willing to host refugees and migrants; that development in regions of origin can reduce onward migrant flows; and that migrants’ decision making is influenced by small-scale adjustments to entry criteria and the efficiency of regularisation procedures for foreign workers policies.
Counter-smuggling policies, as well as policies for the protection of refugees outside the EU, are particularly prone to disregard or misuse research. Take the following examples of Dutch migration policymaking, which displays dynamics also visible in Austria and Italy. In 2016, the Dutch Ministry of Justice and Security commissioned a report from the Centre for Research and Documentation (WODC) that concluded that EU information campaigns to deter irregular migration were ineffective and ethically questionable, considering the limited actual possibilities to apply for asylum. The following year, the Ministry cited this same report to justify the continuation of information campaigns, arguing vaguely that ‘new campaigns will provide new insights’. This type of symbolic use of research – to substantiate decisions already made – is widespread. Christina Boswell described it as the “symbolic function” of expert knowledge, where institutions boost their credibility by citing science, without acting on its findings.
At other times, knowledge is completely disregarded. The WODC report identified several unrealistic assumptions behind information campaigns, for instance that irregular migrants are not aware of travel risks and that more information will make them decide differently. Yet seven years later these same assumptions, previously discredited by the study, were still present in a letter from the State Secretary of Justice and Security to the Parliament. The letter stated: ‘informing potential migrants about irregular migration, as well as the possible associated risks and possible alternatives enables them to make more informed choices. This may lead a potential migrant to decide to avoid irregular travel, choose a regular route, or reduce risks’ (p. 9).
When knowledge matters
In contrast, research is used in policy areas that involve categories of migrants admitted to the state, such as resettled refugees and essential workers. For instance, Italian documents related to resettled refugees consider refugees’ vulnerabilities with increased nuances, including their psychological well-being – completely disregarded by policymakers within documents regarding irregular migrants or refugees outside Europe. A pattern emerges: when dealing with migrants who have entered EU territory through formal resettlement channels, policy documents explicitly mention refugees’ needs and expectations, showing the state’s stronger interest in understanding how to adapt policy for this target group, rather than for irregular migrants.
Similarly, policies for attracting high-skilled migrant workers to the Netherlands make regular use of research to adjust the criteria and parameters to make the country attractive for international migrants. For instance, the 2009 Dutch ‘Regeling Hoogopgeleiden’ – designed to encourage foreign top talent to move to the Netherlands to bolster the Dutch knowledge economy – was adjusted two times following evaluations to enhance its transparency and effectivity in attracting more migrants.
The local and the bureaucratic level: a different story
A central finding of our research project was that local governments often use expert knowledge in a more instrumental manner than national policymakers. In one Italian town with a large foreign population, civil servants – not politicians – initiated policies using insights from collaborations with universities and NGOs. The city’s immigration office itself originated as a university research project in the 1990s.
Our research showed that city-level actors in Italy, closer to the ground and less influenced by (inter)national political interests, often seek evidence to solve real problems, especially in areas concerning work permits and refugee integration. The same attention to evidence and to efficacy is found within the bureaucratic level of national policymaking – especially within the Ministry of Work and Social Policy (Ministero del Lavoro e delle Politiche Sociali), responsible for elaborating and implementing foreign workers’ regularization procedures. Indeed, civil servants are not as directly impacted by party politics and voter dynamics as are elected politicians, granting them more room to consider expert knowledge in their work. At the municipal administration level particularly, civil servants’ objective is to provide good services and ensure the correct functioning, improvement and problem-solving capacities of the local system. As one Italian civil servant put it, ‘At the municipality level there are experienced and motivated people, while the political level has little awareness of reality.’
Conclusions: what spaces for research in policymaking?
In 2024, 2,454 people died or went missing in the Mediterranean, lacking safe ways to travel due to restrictive EU visa policies. These deaths are not accidental – they are the tragic outcome of policies that have not succeeded in limiting mobility, despite increased funding to border control in North-Africa and elsewhere. Focused on a paradigm of border security and fighting human trafficking, EU governments in the last 30 years have been developing policies based on flawed assumptions and ignored evidence.
The result for research and expert knowledge? Gradually, and especially since the so-called refugee crisis of 2015, ‘evidence-based policymaking’ has become a buzzword more than a reality. Legal professionals, researchers and even policy makers themselves often know better, but their insights are often ignored or filtered through political convenience.
Our research is not meant to just speak to academics interested in knowledge dynamics around migration – we believe our findings matter for anyone concerned with democratic governance and human rights. Understanding how, when, and why knowledge is used or ignored in migration policy helps expose the dynamics behind policy failures. Until evidence is taken seriously, Europe’s borders will remain deadly, and policies to tackle migration will continue to be dishonest.
This blog is part of the PACES project funded by the European Union. Views and opinions expressed are those of the authors only and do not necessarily reflect those of the European Union. Neither the European Union nor the granting authority can be held responsible for them.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the Author
Riccardo Biggi
Riccardo Biggi is a Junior Researcher at the Institute of Political Science, Leiden University. His academic interests lie at the intersection of migration politics, border regimes, and European governance. At Leiden, he contributes to research on transnational political structures and the socio-political implications of migration control. In addition to his scholarly work, Biggi co-produces City Rights Radio, a podcast examining European border politics and migrant justice, with a focus on grassroots perspectives.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
In this blog, ISS alumnus Eyob Balcha Gebremariam, PhD, critiques the superficial ethical framing often used in Global North–Africa partnerships. Through reflections on a UK–Africa research network, he highlights persistent power imbalances, where African partners are relegated to the role of data collectors while institutions exploit student fees and metrics.
Image Credit: Bliss
In February 2024, I found myself at a pivotal moment in the academic landscape, attending a regional network launching event of “Africanist researchers” at one of the UK universities. The room was a microcosm of diverse academic, cultural, gender, and racial backgrounds, all converging with a common purpose to establish a network of researchers. The organisers set ambitious objectives, including partnering to co-develop research proposals, recruiting more African students to their respective regional universities, and providing capacity-building support for Africa-based partners. This was the backdrop against which I observed the dynamics of coloniality, power and privilege that underpin such collaborations.
As a passionate advocate for decolonial perspectives and a contributor to the development of the Africa Charter, I was not only unsurprised but deeply concerned by the dominant focus of the discussion. It seemed to orbit around how UK universities and their researchers could maintain and even amplify their benefits from the existing power imbalances with their African counterparts. This perspective is a symptom of the deeply ingrained colonial mindset that continues to shape our research collaborations.
The extractivist approach, a deeply ingrained issue, was never questioned. The mood in the room took for granted the colonially crafted relationship between African and UK higher education institutions, where empirical data and information are extracted from “Africa” using Western theories and concepts to be packaged as scientific knowledge. Not only on this occasion, but in most events like this meeting, “Africa” is approached as a supplier of international students. Africa-based researchers are often characterised as research assistants or primary data collectors for their UK-based counterparts.
During the plenary discussion, I shared my concern about the orientation of the discussion in the room. I underscored the urgent need for a more critical orientation that is acutely aware of the colonial designs and structures of research collaborations with African knowledge systems and Africa-based knowledge actors. I was determined to challenge the status quo and encourage my academic colleagues to transcend the normalised approaches to discussing “Africa.”
The subsequent parts of the discussion proceeded smoothly, and I gleaned valuable insights from the conversation with my fellow small group members. It was encouraging to see that everyone shared a deep concern about the issues I had raised. They also expressed their understanding of the challenges and commitment to addressing inequities in their respective capacities. However, the overall atmosphere remained somewhat conventional.
At the end of the inaugural session, concerns about the power imbalances in knowledge production and the need for a historically informed and conscious approach to forging new partnerships or strengthening existing ones were watered down to a mere mention of ‘ethics and ethical procedures’. The overall message was that we are good to go if we are sufficiently ethical in our dealings with “Africa” and Africa-based knowledge actors. There was insufficient time and space to delve into what ‘ethics’ truly entails. I gathered that my fellow participants were willing to move to the next step even though the ethical standards and procedures were not adequately clarified.
I call the above procedure the “Ts and Cs Apply” Approach. In this age of hyper-consumerism, we hear or see endless commercials for goods and services. After the main message, we often pay little attention to the so-called “terms and conditions.” I observed a tendency to approach the current drive of demanding equity, redressing power imbalances, and undoing colonial relations in knowledge production through international collaborations using the “Ts and Cs apply approach.”
In many events, the manifestations of coloniality at the idea, institutional, and individual levels will be raised. However, there is often limited or no time, space, or understanding to discuss them thoroughly. Such ideas and individuals who promote them are almost guaranteed to remain in the margins. The “Ts and Cs Apply” approach has just enough room to raise critical issues but is not good enough to make meaningful steps.
Financially, the growing young population in Africa is a primary target for recruiting international students. “Overseas students” have already become UK universities’ primary income sources. The UK, in general, is in an advantageous position to benefit from the colonial legacy and the soft power it exerts in shaping peoples’ minds about higher education.
Even UK universities with socially responsible and justice-focused intentions reap unfair benefits from their operations in Africa. Most UK universities now have an “Africa Strategy” to manage their collaborations with the continent effectively. Their continent-wide footprints also count towards the new metrics of university Impact Ranking. The SDGs are the primary framework of the impact ranking. Since the SDGs define Africa through the deficit model, the abnormality of which needs fixing by external actors, UK universities are incentivised and well-placed to play this role. The universities can also benefit financially from the positive image they build from the impact ranking.
Since most quasi-solutions by the UK and other “Global North” universities adopt the “Ts and Cs Approach”, they become part of the problem rather than the solutions. UK universities are entrenched in the colonial game of extraction of data, intellectual labour and credibility. Now, there is a system in place that will reward and glorify them so that they can continue benefiting from their unfair position. Not paying enough attention to the terms and conditions of engagement and its colonial roots, we contribute to the problem.
Going beyond the “Ts and Cs apply” Approach
Redressing epistemic inequities and injustices should be the primary concern of efforts to redress the colonially designed power imbalances in international research collaborations. De-centring coloniality from our knowledge frameworks can be the primary step towards “dignified co-habitation” as human beings and societies. This is why the Africa Charter for Transformative Research Collaborations calls for de-centring Eurocentric epistemic orientations in scientific knowledge production concerning Africa.
Coloniality of knowledge normalised the hierarchisation of knowledge systems. In this hierarchy, non-European knowledges are often labelled as “Indigenous,” whereas Eurocentric epistemic orientations, values, and principles are universalised. The universalist claim by Eurocentric knowledge systems is an antithesis to the realisation of conviviality. Conviviality thrives by recognising the limitations of our knowledge frameworks and valuing other knowledge systems. Most UK and Global North universities are vectors of the universalist claim of Eurocentrism. If we are conscious of the incompleteness of our epistemic orientations, our transboundary research initiatives will have room for epistemic humility – the openness to learn from others.
In a system where the coloniality of being is normalised, non-Whites/non-Europeans have less value as humans and less credibility as knowers. They are often portrayed as faceless or nameless enslaved beings, captives, colonial subjects, drowning migrants, influx or wave of illegal aliens, collateral damages of imperial wars or terrorists, especially if they dare to resist colonisation and colonialism. A university system and a research collaboration that does not recognise the human and epistemic dignity of the ‘other’ reinforces coloniality.
Going beyond the “Ts and Cs Apply” approach requires intentionally disruptive actions, thought provocations and arguments that can bring the business-as-usual lifestyle to a grinding stop. Colonial relations sustain societies’ current affluent and luxurious lifestyles, mainly in the Global North. Coloniality of power conceals the blood, tears, and sweat of societies that produce our daily consumables (tech, food, cloth, oil, jewellery, etc). If our pursuit of knowledge through international research collaboration takes this for granted, we are culpable either by omission or commission.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the author
Eyob Gebremariam
Eyob Balcha Gebremariam is Research Associate at the Perivoli Africa Research Centre, University of Bristol, UK, Visiting Fellow at the University of Cape Town (2024-2025) and Member of the Council at the Development Studies Association, UK. He graduated from the International Institute of Social Studies in 2009.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
Conventional Disarmament, Demobilisation, and Reintegration (DDR) frameworks in Africa remain limited by masculinist and colonial legacies that marginalise the knowledge of African women’s and their lived realities. In this blog, visiting International Institute of Social Studies (ISS) researcher, Esther Beckley advances a feminist-decolonial intervention that centres women’s knowledge as indispensable to reimagining peacebuilding beyond militarised and exclusionary paradigms. This shift is essential for achieving effective peace processes.
“We are not firing guns, but we are not at peace”. This sentiment, echoed by one of the women I encountered in Liberia during my PhD field research in 2022, encapsulates a critical challenge in “post-conflict” Africa. More than two decades have passed since the adoption of United Nations Security Council Resolution 1325 on Women, Peace and Security (WPS), which prioritised women’s protection and participation in conflict and its aftermath. Hailed as a landmark in recognising women’s experiences of war and contributions to peace, the resolution laid the groundwork for gender-sensitive peacebuilding frameworks worldwide, including Disarmament, Demobilisation, and Reintegration (DDR) programmes.
In this article, I offer a feminist-decolonial reckoning with DDR in Africa – one that challenges the colonial roots and gender biases of these processes, and centres the voices and realities of African women so often ignored. Drawing on examples from Sierra Leone, Nigeria, Liberia, and the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), I reflect on how DDR processes continue to operate through narrow definitions of combatant identity, exclusionary disarmament criteria, and a persistent inability to value women’s plural and communal approaches to peace. Beyond the question of inclusion, I ask: Which kinds of peace are being imagined?Whose security is being prioritised?And what violence is rendered invisible in the process? Doing so allows for a deeper understanding of how African women’s experiences can reshape peacebuilding into a more just and grounded practice.
Beyond the rhetoric of inclusion: The limits of gender mainstreaming
Women in Africa have never been absent from conflict. In Sierra Leone, figures like “Adama cut hand” and “Krio Mammy” embodied a complex warrior identity, challenging the stereotype of women as passive victims of war. In northeastern Nigeria, the widespread use of girls as suicide bombers by Boko Haram reveals a calculated militarisation of girlhood. Likewise, in Goma, DRC, some of the women I encountered in 2022 spoke of occupying roles as commanders, platoon leaders, logistics coordinators, and so forth. Yet, DDR programmes across Africa have persistently treated women’s participation in conflict as anomalous or secondary.
This exclusion is not incidental. It reflects the coloniality of peacebuilding, a system that privileges Western top-down models and masculinist understandings of war, while delegitimising the complex and fluid roles women occupy during and after conflict. In Sierra Leone, female fighters within the Kamajor Civil Defence Forces were left out of DDR processes because they did not fit the predefined mould of the disarmed soldier. In Nigeria, women affected by the Niger Delta insurgency and the counterinsurgency war in the Northeast were similarly marginalised by state-led peace initiatives such as the Presidential Amnesty Programme and Operation Safe Corridor. These programmes, despite being framed within WPS language, failed to acknowledge the socio-political and gendered dynamics that shape women’s experiences of conflict and recovery.
“Informal” peacebuilding as epistemic resistance
In the face of structural exclusion from formal peace processes, African women have long practised peacebuilding on their own terms, drawing from cultural knowledge(s), spiritual resilience, and communal solidarity. These practices, often unseen by dominant DDR frameworks, constitute powerful forms of epistemic resistance – challenging dominant knowledge systems and asserting their own ways of knowing and being. In this context, it represents women’s active resistance to the narrow definitions of peace and peacebuilding embedded in DDR programmes. They offer plural ways of knowing and doing peace, rooted in collective healing, intergenerational memory, and care.
Consider Liberia, where women’s movements, notably Women in Peacebuilding Network (WIPNET), mobilised mass actions combining Christian and Muslim prayer circles, sit-ins, song, and silent protest. Their methods, born out of necessity and resilience, may not have resembled conventional conflict resolution, but their impact was undeniable. Through everyday activism, they created political pressure that eventually helped end the war and paved the way for the election of Africa’s first female head of state. These practices disrupt the distinction made between victim and agent, public and private, formal and informal, reclaiming peace as a communal, ongoing process rather than a set of steps to be completed.
These forms of peacebuilding are not simply add-ons to liberal peace processes; they expose how the “peace” envisioned in DDR and WPS agendas often neglects the violences women continue to endure in “post-conflict” contexts: domestic violence, land dispossession, political exclusion, illiteracy, and trauma. As one of the women in Liberia told me, “The war is over, but our struggle is not”. Their activism around issues like drug abuse, domestic violence, and declining female political representation, though not always labelled “peacebuilding”, is deeply political and rooted in relational justice and survival.
By ignoring these practices, DDR programmes perpetuate epistemic injustice. They continue to treat peacebuilding as a domain of expertise held by international actors and armed men, rather than a relational, lived process in which women are already engaged. Feminist-decolonial approaches compel us to ask: Which forms of knowledge are recognised as legitimate?Who is authorised to speak, and whose voices remain unheard?
Towards feminist-decolonial peacebuilding
For DDR in Africa to be truly meaningful, it must abandon its masculinist, militarised, and top-down foundations. A feminist-decolonial approach demands a radical reimagining beyond the standard three-step process. Disarmament must extend beyond weapons to acknowledge women’s unique experiences of war, while demobilisation must ensure safety and inclusion for female ex-combatants. Reintegration requires holistic healing that is psychological, spiritual, and relational, not just economic support. Crucially, we must ask what peace and reintegration mean for women whose bodies were sites for warfare and survival or who bore the burdens of conflict without wielding arms.
Central to this transformation is recognising African women’s knowledges such as prayer, storytelling, rituals, and care as vital peacebuilding practices that challenge the liberal peace framework. Tokenistic gender mainstreaming falls short because DDR must confront colonial legacies that marginalise women’s political labour and exclude them from decision-making. Feminist-decolonial peacebuilding calls for fundamentally reimagining peace as justice, dignity, and relational repair, emerging from communities rather than institutions. This is not a tweak but a reckoning and a shift toward liberation grounded in voices too often forgotten.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the Author
Esther Beckley
Esther Beckley is a visiting research fellow at the International Institute of Social Studies (ISS). Her PhD research centered the peacebuilding practices of indigenous women in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) and Liberia, learning how they navigate and reshape complex ‘postconflict’ environments within their communities. Grounded in a feminist-decolonial approach, her work challenges dominant colonial narratives that have long silenced these women’s voices, foregrounding the significance of their spiritual, relational, and communal methods of building peace. This research provides critical insights into the limitations of conventional Disarmament, Demobilisation and Reintegration (DDR) programmes and emphasises the need for more transformative and contextually grounded peace processes.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
Amsterdam marked its 750th anniversary by distributing 60,000 copies of a commemorative book, Mijn Jarige Stad (“My Birthday City”), to children across the Dutch city. But what was intended as a celebratory gift has instead sparked controversy over its casual perpetuation of racial stereotypes. In this blog, Zhiqi Xu, PhD student at the International Institute of Social Studies, reflects on how unconscious bias infiltrates children’s literature and its wide-reaching impacts.
An expanded Image of the full Board Game. Image: Het Parool
On page 31, within the book’s board-game section, young readers encounter this instruction: “Ni Hao! Chinese tourists are blocking the bike path. To avoid them, go back to square 39.”
The passage, framed as playful gameplay, exposes a more troubling reality: how racial stereotypes can be seamlessly woven into educational materials, normalizing prejudiced thinking from an early age. What publishers likely viewed as harmless humour instead demonstrates how unconscious bias infiltrates children’s literature—and how such casual stereotyping can shape young minds in ways that extend far beyond the pages of a book.
The cover of the book. Image: RedditThe problematic passage in question. Image: Reddit
The incident raises critical questions about editorial oversight in educational publishing and the responsibility institutions bear when shaping children’s understanding of diversity and inclusion. For a city celebrating nearly eight centuries of history, the oversight represents a missed opportunity to model the inclusive values Amsterdam claims to champion.
Who are Amsterdam’s Tourists?
The idea of Chinese tourists “blocking the bike path” paints a vivid, supposedly familiar image—but it’s not supported by data. According to the 2023–2024 Toerisme MRA report, visitors from Asia accounted for only 8% of hotel overnight stays in Amsterdam in 2023. In contrast, 54% came from the rest of Europe, 17% from the Americas, and 18% were Dutch.
Tourism growth between 2019 and 2023 was highest among European and American guests, not Asian ones. The visibility of Asian tourists is being exaggerated and weaponized through cognitive distortions like availability bias, where rare but vivid impressions are perceived as more common than they are.
From Bias to Dehumanization
In psychology, stereotypes are heuristics— mental shortcuts used to categorize and simplify. They reduce people to flattened, predictable group traits. Although they ease mental load, they cause real harm when used to navigate social life.
Children absorb stereotypes early. By age seven, many have already internalized group-based categories learned from books, media, and adults. When a schoolbook casts a specific ethnic group, in this case, Chinese, as a social nuisance, it builds implicit biases: automatic associations between group identity and negative traits.
But the path doesn’t end there. As Gordon Allport outlined in his “scale of prejudice,” stereotypes escalate. When repeated enough, they lead to objectification — seeing people not as individuals, but as representatives of a group. That group is then more easily dismissed, mocked, blamed, or even harmed, with less guilt.
The dehumanizing tone becomes especially stark when we read the other obstacles in the same game section:
“Een reiger heeft op je hoofd gepoept. Je moet terug naar huis (vakje 18) om je haar te wassen.” (A heron pooped on your head. Go back home to wash your hair.)
“Plons. Je probeert een mega-duif te ontwijken met je fiets, maar valt in de gracht. Je moet helemaal terugzwemmen naar start.” (Splash. You try to dodge a mega-pigeon on your bike, but fall into the canal. Swim all the way back to the start.)
In this context, Chinese tourists are the only human obstacle, grouped alongside animal accidents and fictional giant birds. This reinforces a subconscious lesson: some people are not peers — they are problems.
A historical pattern
The casual stereotyping found in Amsterdam’s children’s book follows a well-documented historical pattern where seemingly minor representations precede more serious discrimination. The Amsterdam book incident, while seemingly minor, fits within this broader historical context of how prejudice becomes embedded in society’s foundational institutions.
In 1930s Germany, anti-Semitic imagery and language appeared in school textbooks and public messaging years before systematic persecution began. Educational materials depicted Jewish citizens through derogatory caricatures and false narratives, gradually normalizing prejudice in the public consciousness.
During the latter half of the 20th century in America, media portrayals consistently framed Black Americans through the lens of criminality and violence. These representations helped build public support for policies that would lead to mass incarceration, with communities of colour disproportionately targeted by law enforcement and judicial systems.
Following 9/11 attacks, Muslims faced increasingly negative portrayals in media and popular culture, depicted as inherently threatening or suspicious. This narrative shift preceded and justified expanded surveillance programs that specifically monitored Muslim communities and individuals.
Scholars who study the sociology of discrimination have identified this progression as a common precursor to institutional bias: stereotypical portrayals in popular culture and educational materials gradually shift public perception, creating the social conditions necessary for discriminatory policies to gain acceptance.
East Asians, especially those perceived as Chinese, have long faced similar treatment. During COVID-19, Asians across Europe were verbally harassed and physically attacked. In Tilburg, a Chinese-Dutch student at Tilburg University, Cindy, was brutally attacked in an elevator after asking a group to stop singing a racist song: Voorkomen is beter dan Chinezen (“Prevention is better than Chinese”). She suffered a concussion and knife wounds. Before leaving her unconscious, the attackers said they would “eradicate the coronavirus.”
Cindy’s story illustrates the continuum from mockery to violence, and how normalized stereotyping can desensitize people to cruelty.
And racists don’t differentiate between Chinese, Japanese, Korean, or Vietnamese. When one is mocked, all are targeted.
Systemic Roots
Equally troubling is that, according to the publisher’s own statement, the book passed through multiple levels of review and testing—city departments, school boards, and teachers, without objection. This reflects a deeper issue: normative bias, where majority-group perspectives are mistaken for neutrality.
It’s not necessarily malice. But when no one notices, it signals a system that is not built to detect or understand minority harm.
Public reactions have further exposed this divide. Dutch media figure Tina Nijkamp publicly criticized the passage and highlighted the absence of East Asian representation in Dutch TV and media. However, some online commenters called the backlash oversensitive, arguing “it’s just a joke” or “I’m Chinese and I’m not offended.”
Psychologically, this reflects pluralistic ignorance and false consensus bias: the assumption that one’s view is universal, and the failure to recognize diverse lived experiences.
But the data contradicts these dismissals. In March 2024, the Dutch government released the first national survey on discrimination against people of (South)East Asian descent. One in three reported experiencing discrimination in the past year. Minister Van Gennip responded:
“Discrimination against people of (South)East Asian descent must stop.”
Asian-Dutch community leader Hui-Hui Pan (@huihui_panonfire) posted a widely shared critique:
“Mijn stad is jarig. Maar waarom vieren we het met racisme?” (“My city is having a birthday. But why are we celebrating it with racism?”)
She called it “racism in children’s language.” The Pan Asian Collective, which she founded, launched a national campaign and is organizing the National Congress against Discrimination and Racism on 26 June 2025, where Utrecht University and Dataschool will present findings on Asian underrepresentation in 25 years of Dutch media coverage.
Their message: this isn’t about one book—it’s about a long, visible pattern of exclusion.
Entrenched Normalization
In response to public concern, various institutions linked to Mijn Jarige Stad began clarifying their roles. The Amsterdam Museum stated it was not involved in content creation, despite its name appearing in the book. Stichting Amsterdam 750 funded the project, but delegated execution to the Programmabureau Amsterdam 750, part of the city government. The publisher, Pavlov, initially issued a standard response emphasizing positive intent and broad involvement:
“The book was developed in collaboration with all primary schools through the Breed Bestuurlijk Overleg (BBO), and extensively tested with students and teachers from three different Amsterdam schools… We sincerely had no intention to insult or hurt any group.”
This response—focused on process, intention, and positive feedback—sidestepped the core issue: harm was done, and a line that dehumanizes East Asians passed through supposedly inclusive safeguards. The problem isn’t that one group failed; the problem is how normalized and institutionally invisible anti-Asian stereotypes remain, even in materials for children.
This is not a matter of blaming a single actor or demanding symbolic apologies. The book should be recalled, and what’s needed now is an honest reckoning — not just of the production process, but of how certain forms of discrimination are so implicit, so embedded in everyday thinking, that they go unnoticed by those involved and even by broader audiences who dismiss criticism as oversensitivity.
Yet this very invisibility is reinforced by the fragmentation of accountability. It highlights a deeper issue: when everyone is involved, no one is responsible. And when no one notices the harm, it reveals how profoundly such portrayals are normalized in our collective imagination.
From Learning to Living
From a behavioral science perspective, the issue extends far beyond questions of political sensitivity. Research demonstrates how cognitive shortcuts—the mental patterns children use to navigate social situations, become deeply embedded through repeated exposure to stereotypical representations.
Child development studies reveal that young minds absorb social hierarchies through seemingly innocuous content, internalizing messages about which groups hold value and which can be dismissed. These early lessons shape neural pathways that influence decision-making well into adulthood.
The potency of stereotypes lies not in their malicious intent but in their subtle persistence. They need not provoke outrage to encode prejudice, nor offend every reader to establish harmful categories of human worth. When children encounter these patterns repeatedly—whether in games, stories, or casual conversation—they learn implicit lessons about power dynamics and social belonging.
Educational content serves a dual purpose: it teaches explicit knowledge while simultaneously transmitting unspoken values about empathy, respect, and human dignity. A board game instruction becomes more than entertainment; it becomes a framework for understanding who deserves consideration and who can be overlooked.
The distribution of 60,000 books represents more than a municipal celebration. It constitutes the widespread dissemination of social scripts—subtle but powerful instructions that will influence how an entire generation of children perceives and interacts with others throughout their lives.
In this context, editorial choices carry profound responsibility, shaping not just individual attitudes but the social fabric of communities for decades to come.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the Author:
Zhiqi Xu
Zhiqi Xu is a behavioral scientist, psychologist, and development policy researcher. She investigates how people and communities respond to policy interventions and social change, uncovering the social and behavioral roots of transformation across contexts. Her work bridges disciplines to promote more inclusive and human-centered development thinking.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
Kalehe, a territory in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC)located just to the north of Bukavu, has witnessed an unprecedented humanitarian crisis triggered by heavy rains in May 2023, resulting in at least 513 deaths, 5 525 people missing, 2 046 houses destroyed, many schools and health centres destroyed However, it was possible to prevent some of the worst effects of the crisis if efforts of reforestation were undertaken beforehand to reduce risks to lives and livelihoods. The DRC Humanitarian Observatory (DRC HO) calls for more attention to prevent such crises sustainably in the future in the DRC and in other similar contexts in the world.A humanitarian crisis with multiple consequences
Kalehe is one of the territories in the province of South-Kivu located in the northern side of Bukavu city (capital city of South-Kivu province). It covers the Eastern littoral of the Kivu Lake in Eastern DRC. Decades ago, there was a large tree-planting effort to protect the environment. In recent years, however, Kalehe’s population has grown rapidly due to the presence of Internally Displaced People (IDPs) in the territory. As a result of this, Kalehe has experienced widescale and rapid deforestation and loss of grassland in the middle and high plateaux to produce wood and charcoal without planting other trees.
In the night of 4 May 2023, heavy rains caused water levels to rise,as well as flooding in some villages of the Bushushu groupement in the Buhavu chiefdom of this territory. The Lukungula River of Bushushu, and the Kamikonzi River in Nyamukubi went beyond their limits, resulting in flooding and spreading of mixture of water, large stones, and mud in four out of seven sub villages of the locality, particularly Bushushu, Kabuchungu, Nyamukubi and Musumba. The humanitarian consequences of this were dramatic and multiform: 5525 people missing, more than 513 bodies buried, more than 2046 houses totally destroyed, more than 562 families mourning, many schools and health centres destroyed, loss of household assets including tables, chairs, and loss of documents of value such as electoral cards. The DRC HO team conducted fieldwork from 29 through 30 June 2023 in the area to know more about the crisis. WFP’s emergency response to the Kalehe floods, South Kivu – Flash Report #2 (19 May 2023) – Democratic Republic of the Congo | ReliefWebKalehe crisis: challenges of the humanitarian assistance
During the fieldwork, the team identified several challenges associated with: (i) people’s (re-)location, (ii) deforestation, (iii) insufficient aid and, (iv) deficit of accountability while delivering assistance.
Challenges of relocation: four villages were totally devastated, people lacked where to reside in terms of on which land to construct houses, infrastructures such as water points, health centres, schools, churches, markets, fields for cultivation, etc.
Challenges of reforestation: people did fell trees without control; areas became entirely less grassy because of charcoal production and/or cultivable land. There was a clear link between lack of environmental protection and mud and landslides, which cause wide scale destruction
Challenges of insufficient aid: state actors (Government, First Lady) and non-state actors (churches, associations), international actors (ACTED, OXFAM, Caritas, World Vision, MIDEFEOPS, Mercy Corps), together with United Nations agencies (OCHA, PAM, HCR, UNICEF) mobilized themselves since the start of the crisis. Even though, needs remained huge in terms of food and non-food items (shelters, clothes, kitchen items, cover, mosquito nets), water, sanitation and hygiene (WASH), education, health, agriculture, psychosocial support, dignity kits for women,among others.
Challenges of accountability while delivering assistance: Some mechanisms of accountability were operational on the ground. Even though, in the vast majority of cases, there were reporting about discrimination of true beneficiaries in the selection process, which worked in favour of those who were close relatives to local leaders, often leaving out victims. In other cases, corruption took the form of bribing assistance by some humanitarian actors and selection of beneficiaries who were not victims. They delivered assistance without necessarily involving affected people and without any intention to take into account their points of viewsnor did they think reporting to them. At the same time however, actors reported more to their donors than towards affected people.
Photo 1: survival of the Kalehe crisis waiting for assistance in front of a humanitarian actor office, photo of 30 June 2023, in KaleheContextual factors
Kalehe is located at 60 kilometres from Bukavu city; most of humanitarian actors have offices at in Bukavu. Local leaders created a local crisis committee in Kalehe. According to informants, it is at this stage that there were many cases of aid misappropriation in terms of weak coordination of interventions on the ground, resulting in double cases, omissions, embezzlements, falsifications of recipient lists by some humanitarian actors in complicity with some local authorities. There was not necessarily harmony between lists of genuine victims and those who benefited aid; as a result, some received aid more than three times, while others did not receive anything. The weak involvement of affected populations in needs’ identification contributed negatively. Some actors worked just with local leaders who, often less informed of categories of peoples’ specific needs. Community leaders, supposed to represent the population, hardly fed back information shared in meetings to their constituency; creating an information vacuum.
Two recommendations
During the DRC HO event of 15 September 2023, where they shared and discussed fieldwork findings, participants formulated two main recommendations in the sense of concrete actions to set in place:
Relocate affected people close to cultivable lands
During and after the crises in DRC, displaced people tended to settle in the Kalehe territory. Kalehe is a zone heavily occupied by plantations of wealthy people, and so the task to find an appropriate site for IDPs became a major challenge. This recommendation abides by the tripartite Congolese State-land owners-affected populations paradigm to ensure that people can live in peace. At the same time, reforestation efforts should be intensified, especially in hilly and affected and non-affected areas.
Concentration of humanitarian aid in favour of affected populations by working for and with them.
To maximize chances to assist the maximum of affected people, IDPs need to be at the heart of assistance interventions. Needs’ identification, lists of distribution and their approval, certification of right victims are all examples of true willingness to involve them in the all process of assistance. Taking into account all relevant sectors namely health, education, reconstruction, habitat, water, sanitation and hygiene (WASH), and socio-psychological support. The improvement of social accountability during aid delivery, in particular downward accountability rather than just upward accountability. These lessons should guide every assistance coordination similar to the Kalehe context in the DRC and across the globe.
[1] We wrote this blog from the discussion of the DRC-HO event of 15 September 2023; we recognize active participation of Denise Shukuru Manegabe, Samuella Lukenge, Moise Amisi Ezdra, Kamos Bishindo, Darcin Ajuaye Kagadju and Innocent Assumani.Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the Authors:
Patrick Milabyo Kyamusugulwa is a Professor at the Bukavu High Institute of Medical Techniques, in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC). He is a member of the DRC Humanitarian Observatory and member of the Social Science Centre for African Development-KUTAFITI.
Delu Lusambya Mwenebyake is a PhD researcher at the International Institute of Social Studies (Erasmus University Rotterdam). Delu is working on humanitarian governance in the Democratic Republic of Congo: Community-driven, accountability, and advocacy in Humanitarian Actions.
Jules Amani Kamanyula is a member of both CERDHO of the Catholic University of Bukavu and the DRC Humanitarian Observatory.
Rachel Sifa Katembera is a member of civil society and active member of the DRC Humanitarian Observatory.
Léonie Aishe Saidi is a medical doctor, both member of Assist ASBL and the DRC Humanitarian Observatory.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
This blog is part of the Humanitarian Governance: Accountability, Advocacy, Alternatives’ project. This project has received funding from the European Research Council (ERC) under the European Union’s Horizon 2020 research and innovation programme under grant agreement No. 884139
In this blog, Siyum Adugna Mamo and Ayehu Bacha Teso look at political developments within Ethiopia in the last decade, and their effects on freedom of academic work and thought as well as on material conditions within the country. They find that by deliberately weakening intellectuals both morally and economically, forcing them into dire living conditions, and suppressing dissenting voices, the authoritarian regime in Ethiopia has engaged in epistemicide. This has demoralized intellectuals, stifled knowledge production, and eroded the coming generation’s hope for learning.
The regime that came to power in Ethiopia in 2018, led by the Prosperity Party of Prime Minister (PM) Abiy Ahmed, didn’t take long before it turned authoritarian. Persecuting dissenting views, jailing journalists, members of parliament, and intellectuals critical of the regime quickly became the new normal in Ethiopia. Whilst civil servants in the country have also faced unprecedented challenges following the transition to the current government, this paper focuses on the challenges faced by intellectuals — academic and research staff, in public Higher Education Institutions (HEIs). Using the concept of epistemicide to refer to violence against knowledge and the intellectuals that produce it in the context of Ethiopia, this blog considers how the Ethiopian government has engaged in ‘epistemicide’. By deliberately subjecting the country’s intellectuals to dire living conditions to weaken them both morally and economically, the regime has not only heavily damaged current intellectual conditions within the country, but also eroded the hope for the pursuit of knowledge among future generations.
From thought leaders to outcasts: the marginalization of intellectuals
Since 2018, the Ethiopian government has expressed hostility toward intellectuals and has deliberately distanced them from the political arena. The aim is seemingly to weaken the opposition base by weakening the intellectuals morally and economically in the country. Several government policies have driven intellectuals into dire living conditions with meagre monthly salaries that barely cover their basic needs, the regime has successfully weakened them economically. It has also worked to demoralize intellectuals by alienating them from the nation and framing them as instigators of violent incidents and crises in the country. This deliberate effort aims to render intellectuals powerless and unrecognized by society at large. This has been carried out in tandem with silencing dissenting voices—including imprisoning academics, journalists, political activists, members of parliament, and opposition political party members critical of its policies.
From Lecture Halls to Breadlines: Ethiopian academics now earn less than casual workers
Intellectuals are being forced into dire living conditions where they cannot cover their basic needs with their monthly wage. A full professor earns a gross monthly salary of $ 158, an associate professor earns $ 146, an assistant professor receives $ 134, and a lecturer receives $ 94 in gross monthly salary (see the graph below). This amount is significantly lower than the income of casual and low-skilled workers, for example a shoeshine who polishes shoes on the streets of Addis Ababa. The monthly salaries of academic staff in HEIs are almost negligible in a country where the cost of living is soaring, and inflation is skyrocketing.
Professors, who spend years and years reaching the highest level of the intellectual ladder, earns a salary that cannot even cover their basic monthly expenses. Such unfair treatment is demoralizing for intellectuals, making it difficult not only to feed themselves but also to support their families. It also discourages them from maintaining motivation for their work, ultimately stifling innovation and knowledge production. This is reflected in the regime’s deliberate efforts to impoverish the educated elites in the country. This economic suffocation of intellectuals is a calculated move. When brilliant minds are forced to focus on mere survival—scrambling to put food on the table or looking for other options—they cannot contribute to the nation’s intellectual or political development.
At the same time as academic staff at traditional HEI’s in Ethiopia suffer there is a growing trend of plagiarism and acquiring illegitimate degrees largely by the cadres of the regime. This extends from low level administrators who easily buy certificates to the PM who has been heavily criticized for plagiarizing a significant portion his PhD dissertation.
Eroding the hopes of the coming generation
With such a system that actively works to weaken the intellectuals both morally and economically, the coming generation are likely to grow up hopeless about learning and knowledge. Witnessing the struggle of intellectuals who are unable to cover their basic needs, it is likely that a career as an academic will become less and less attractive to young people and graduates: even senior Professors are now unable to feed themselves, support their families, or pay for their children’s school fees. How can young people develop a commitment to learning when their teachers, many with advanced degrees, are starving, unable to change their clothes, and unable to pay rent and sleeping in their offices? Schools and universities, once seen as gateways to opportunity, are now viewed with skepticism and despair. The regime is undermining innovation and the drive to produce knowledge not only among its current intellectuals but also within future generations eroding their hope for learning. This has severe implications for the country’s socio-economic and political development.
A picture showing a Wollo University staff, who is also a PhD candidate at Addis Ababa University in Ethiopia, begging on the street of Addis Ababa.
Conclusion
The fight against epistemicide and anti-intellectualism in Ethiopia is not just a fight for intellectuals; it is a fight for the soul of the nation. It is a fight to reclaim the hope of future generations, to restore the value of knowledge, and to ensure that critical thinking and innovation can flourish once again. The regime in Ethiopia has engaged in deliberate epistemicide, weakening intellectuals both morally and economically, and placing them in dire living conditions. This reality underscores the importance of advocating for change by pushing the regime to value knowledge, restore the livelihoods of intellectuals, and rekindle hope for future generations. Both intellectuals and the knowledge they produce are not only crucial for the country’s development but also essential in shaping the future of upcoming generations. A movement is therefore necessary to compel the regime to grant intellectuals and their knowledge a proper social standing. Both intellectuals and the knowledge they produce are not only crucial for the country’s development but also essential in shaping the future of the coming generations.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the Authors
Siyum Adugna Mamo
Siyum Adugna Mamo is a PhD fellow joining the Conflict Research Group at Ghent University in Belgium, and an academic staff at Jimma University, Ethiopia. He has a master’s degree in Development Studies (specializing in Conflict and Peace Studies) from the ISS, Erasmus University Rotterdam, The Hague, The Netherlands; and another master’s in Philosophy from Addis Ababa University.
Ayehu Bacha Teso
Ayehu Bacha Teso is a PhD fellow at Ghent University, Belgium, affiliated with the Conflict Research Group. His research focuses on urbanization and ethnic contestations in Ethiopia. He is an academic staff member at Jimma University, Ethiopia, and holds a master’s degree in cultural studies.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
In this blog to mark the International Day of Biodiversity, Kim-Tung Dao explores the interplay between international trade and environmental sustainability, which has become increasingly consequential in an era marked by escalating climate crises and geopolitical tensions. The resurgence of protectionist trade policies under President Donald Trump’s second term has intensified global economic disruptions, and trade cannot by itself ensure an equitable green transition in many contexts, but it can be a powerful driver.
AI Photo Generated by Bliss
TheEnvironmentalFootprintofGlobalCommerce
International trade has historically contributed to environmental degradation in multiple ways: maritime shipping alone accounts for approximately 3% of global CO2 emissions, with this figure projected to rise significantly without robust regulatory intervention. The carbon footprint of transportation represents only one dimension of trade’s environmental impact, though.
Additionally, it is common to outsource manufacturing to regions with lenient environmental regulations. This effectively exports emissions alongside production, undermining domestic climate policies through what economists term “carbonleakage”. This process not only shifts the geographic distribution of emissions but often increases their total volume as production moves to less efficient facilities.
Perhaps most concerning is trade’s role in exploiting the natural world. Trade-driven demand for commodities like palm oil, soy, and beef has accelerated deforestation in critical ecosystems such as the Amazon rainforest and Southeast Asian forests, exacerbating biodiversity loss and climate change the conversion of these carbon-rich landscapes (through widescale deforestation) for agricultural production represents a doubly negative climate impact: releasing stored carbon while reducing future sequestration capacity.
Trade Wars: Disruption with Environmental Consequences
The first Trump administration’s withdrawal from the Paris Agreement via Executive Order14162 signals a retreat from international climate commitments, potentially encouraging other nations to deprioritize environmental considerations in trade negotiations with the new Trump administration. This regulatory retreat threatens to undermine decades of progress in integrating sustainability principles into international commerce frameworks.
Trade as a Tool for Environmental Governance and Protection
Despite these challenges, trade agreements can serve as powerful instruments for environmental governance when properly structured. Modern trade deals increasingly incorporate environmental clauses aimed at promoting sustainable development. The United States–Mexico–Canada Agreement (USMCA), for instance, includes commitments to enforce environmental laws and combat illegal wildlife trade, representing an evolution in how environmental concerns are integrated into commercial frameworks.
Trade can accelerate the diffusion of clean technologies and sustainable practices across borders, creating economies of scale that drive down costs for environmental solutions. When markets for green technologies expand through trade, innovation accelerates and prices decline, making sustainability more economically viable globally. This positive feedback loop demonstrates trade’s potential as a catalyst for environmental progress. In addition, similar outcomes can also be achieved through state-led interventions: recent policy shifts, such as those documented by the International Energy Agency, show that governments are actively deploying clean energy policies and industrial strategies to foster innovation, reduce costs, and shape the emerging low-carbon economy.
Through regulatory cooperation mechanisms, trade agreements can promote the alignment of environmental standards, preventing a ‘race to the bottom’ in environmental protection. Harmonization of product standards, chemical regulations, and energy efficiency requirements can elevate environmental performance across entire industries and supply chains.
Green Trade: Case Studies and Promising Developments
The global market for environmental goods and services represents a significant growth sector within international trade. According to the OECD, exports of green goods have nearly doubled over the past decade, reflecting growing demand for sustainable solutions across markets. This expansion demonstrates that environmental protection and economic opportunity need not be mutually exclusive.
The European Union’s Carbon Border Adjustment Mechanism (CBAM) aims to align trade practices with climate goals by imposing carbon tariffs on imports based on their ‘embedded emissions’: a potential model for integrating climate considerations into trade policy. This innovative approach addresses competitive concerns while creating incentives for trading partners to strengthen their own climate policies.
Circular economy initiatives supported through trade policies can reduce resource extraction and waste, fostering more sustainable consumption patterns globally. Trade frameworks that facilitate the movement of recycled materials, remanufactured goods, and repair services help extend product lifecycles and reduce environmental footprints across value chains.
Towards an EcoConscious Trade Regime: A Path Forward
Reconciling trade with environmental sustainability requires fundamental changes to global economic architecture. Environmental objectives must be embedded more directly within trade institutions and agreements, with mechanisms to resolve conflicts between trade and environmental rules. This institutional reform would elevate environmental considerations from peripheral concerns to central organizing principles.
Trade policies should explicitly support the United Nations Sustainable Development Goals and Paris Agreement commitments through incentive structures and compliance mechanisms. Creating positive linkages between trade benefits and environmental performance can harness economic motivation to drive sustainability improvements.
Innovative models like “doughnut economics,” as proposed by Kate Raworth, propose reorienting economic activity within ecological boundaries while meeting social needs, an approach that could inform more sustainable trade policies. This framework recognizes planetary limits as non-negotiable constraints within which economic prosperity must be pursued.
Trade agreements should incorporate support for workers and communities affected by the shift to more sustainable production methods, ensuring that environmental progress doesn’t exacerbate economic inequality. These just transition provisions acknowledge that sustainability transformations create both winners and losers, requiring active management of social impacts.
Trade is only one driver of green transitions
The current trajectory of international trade, characterized by rising protectionism and environmental deregulation, poses significant challenges to global sustainability efforts. However, trade also holds tremendous potential to drive environmental innovation and cooperation. Realizing this potential requires a deliberate and coordinated approach to integrating environmental objectives into trade policy, ensuring that economic growth supports rather than undermines planetary health.
As nations navigate complex trade relationships in an era of climate urgency, the choices made today will significantly shape both economic systems and environmental outcomes for generations to come. The imperative is clear: we must design trade policies that recognize ecological boundaries as fundamental constraints within which prosperity must be pursued.
References
Cristea, M., Hummels, D., Puzzello, L., & Avetisyan, H. (2013). Trade and the Greenhouse Gas Emissions from International Freight Transport. Journal of Environmental Economics and Management, 65(1), 153–173.
Curtis, P. G., Slay, C. M., Harris, N. L., Tyukavina, A., & Hansen, M. C. (2018). Classifying drivers of global forest loss. Science, 361(6407), 1108–1111.
Raworth, K. (2017). Doughnut Economics: Seven Ways to Think Like a 21st-Century Economist.
Chelsea Green Publishing.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the author
Kim Tung Dao
Kim Tung Dao is a recent PhD graduate of the International Institute of Social Studies, Erasmus University Rotterdam. Her research interests include globalization, international trade, sustainable development, and the history of economic thought.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
Can local wisdom offer solutions to current environmental crises? As the world commemorates the International Day of Biological Diversity, we are reminded that the solutions to today’s ecological crises often lie in the knowledge systems of the past. In this blog, Irma Nugrahanti suggests how Javanese traditions like Gotong Royong and Memayu Hayuning Bawana offer guidance for pathways to sustainable development in Indonesia. Ancestral traditions can inspire an approach that is more harmonious with nature, which could inspire more just and inclusive climate strategies.
Banyuwangi, East Java Photo Credit : Author 2025
Indonesia is significantly vulnerable to various climate hazards and the effects of climate change. The 2023 INFORM Risk Index ranks Indonesia in the top third of nations most vulnerable to climate disasters, placing it 48th out of 191, encompassing risks like as flooding, droughts, and heatwaves. In addressing these issues, traditional Javanese local wisdom offers insightful pathways toward sustainable development and harmonious coexistence with nature. The ethical elements embedded in Javanese local wisdom, expressed through religious and cultural practices, offer important local knowledge for successful preservation strategies, facilitating the attainment of sustainable development goals by promoting a collective awareness of responsible conservation. As the largest ethnic group in Indonesia, the Javanese people have historically fostered a strong connection with their natural environment, conducting practices that prioritize resource conservation, waste reduction, and ecological balance. Bringing these cultural practices together within a feminist political ecology framework, particularly through kinship theories that emphasize interconnectedness and care ethics, demonstrates the potential of traditional knowledge in developing inclusive and sustainable policies.
Understanding Javanese Local Wisdom
Javanese local wisdom consists of beliefs and practices intricately woven into traditional norms, focusing on balance and interconnectedness. The Javanese principle of “Memayu Hayuning Bawana,” meaning “living harmoniously with nature and maintaining its balance”, embodies the concepts of ecological sustainability. These practices corresponds with kinship theory in political ecology where land, water, and trees are perceived as kins rather than commodities. It also highlights the interconnectedness of environment and humans through relational ethics, which emphasize mutual care and shared responsibility.
Another long-standing Javanese practice is “Gotong Royong”, gotong means “work” and royong means “together”; a deeply ingrained cultural expression of collaboration and solidarity. This concept signifies a commitment in which community members offer their labor, resources, and knowledge to address common needs and difficulties. This approach can be powerful for mobilizing grassroots opposition to environmental injustices, enabling communities to champion equitable and locally-based environmental policy. From political ecology perspective, it is important to look at environmental issues from political structures and power dynamics angles, for instance the allocation, access, and management of natural resources. Practices such as Gotong Royong illustrate an alternative ethic of interdependence and collective responsibility, proposing a grassroots framework for communal decision-making that challenges hierarchical approaches to resource management. Additionally, political ecology values indigenous and traditional ecological knowledge. This aligns with Gotong Royong practice that values community knowledge in managing environment. Currently, Gotong Royong is firmly ingrained across diverse Indonesian cultures. This has emerged as a significant characteristic of Indonesia’s values.
Nyadran, a tradition prevalent among Javanese communities, serves as both a spiritual ritual and a reflection of the harmonious relationship between humans and nature. In practice, Nyadran involves environmental cleaning, preservation of sacred natural sites, and caring for each other. By doing so, communities enhance their socio-ecological connection and strengthen their responsibility over the environment. Similarly, the Samin indigenous community in Central Java adheres to the “Sedulur Sikep” ideology, which underscores the importance of caring. Sedulur Sikep has three main principles: the principles of ngajeni (respecting), ngopeni (caring for), and demunung (against exploitation of nature) in natural resource management, which are reflected in organic farming practices, forest conservation, and water resource protection. This belief is rooted in how they see nature as “mother” which represents care, nurturance, and provider of life, hence it must be treated with utmost respect. Therefore, the Samin avoid nature exploitation and only take what they need to survive. This ethic of sufficiency and respect for the environment, strongly in line with feminist political ecology’s focus on kinship, care, and criticism of extractive systems.
Integrating Traditional Wisdom into Policy Making
Integrating traditional wisdom into policy requires practical measures. Despite these positive examples, there are challenges in acknowledging and integrating traditional wisdom into Indonesian policy frameworks. For instance, valuable insights from local and indigenous voices, particularly women, are frequently excluded. Feminist political ecology confronts these exclusions, arguing for inclusive decision-making procedures that recognize marginalized knowledge systems and advance environmental justice. Governments should implement inclusive governance models that ensure involvement from local populations, particularly women, recognizing their contributions to environmental management.
Additionally, when traditional knowledge is not institutionalized through formal curriculums, it is vulnerable to erosion, particularly due to modernization. In order to facilitate the intergenerational transfer of sustainable practices and local knowledge, it is suggested that traditional ecological knowledge should be valued as important as current modern knowledge. Allocating targeted financial planning such as budgeting for traditional wisdom-based sustainable programs, can improve their efficacy and scalability. Therefore, budgeting is essential for promoting the use and maintenance of local wisdom, especially in marginalized communities. Studies indicate that Indigenous and rural communities often have place-based knowledge systems essential for sustainable resource management and climate adaptation. A similar example from other regions, such as New Zealand, illustrates the significance of integrating Māori indigenous values, knowledge, and perspectives throughout the whole ecosystem’s services framework.
Historically, Javanese communities engaged in sustainable agriculture, land management, and resource conservation way before modern sustainability discourse. Through reflection, we can rediscover and invigorate these values, acknowledging that the key to sustainability is already in our cultural heritage and local traditions. Embracing and supporting them, including systematically integrating them into national and local climate mitigation and adaptation strategies, offers meaningful pathways toward culturally relevant and sustainable solutions to Indonesia’s current environmental concerns.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the author
Irma Nugrahanti
Irma Nugrahanti is a PhD researcher at the International Institute of Social Studies (ISS), focusing on the intersection of gender, climate change, and public finance management. Her research highlights the importance of integrating a gender lens into climate budgeting policies and practices, particularly at the national and regional levels of public expenditure management. With a background in the non-profit sector, Irma has extensive experience in finance, program management, and policy advocacy, striving to bridge the gap between research and practice to create inclusive and sustainable climate policies.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
In this blog, Carla Vitantonio (and host of the ‘Living Decoloniality’ podcast), takes stock of the views of humanitarian practitioners and researchers at the recent Humanitarian Leadership Conference, held in Doha, Qatar. Throughout the conference, Carla interviewed various humanitarian practitioners and researchers for a special podcast series. She posed two questions, about challenges for humanitarians in a time of polycrisis, and about hope for the future. To listen to the podcast, check out the CHL website.
On April 6th, roughly 70 days after the cancellation of USAID and the earthquake that shook the humanitarian and development sector, about 200 people from 85 different countries met in Doha for the Humanitarian Leadership Conference. Roughly 200 more joined online.
The organization of the event had been uncertain until the very end, as organizers themselves have been deeply affected by the cuts and so had most of the participants. But at the end, thanks to the firm willingness and hard work of the organizers, all pieces fell together and people arrived from all over the world, with some of them crossing through zones affected by conflict and disasters, to attend the two days of conference and one extra day organized by the Pledge for Change, a movement that seeks to decolonize the sector. The title of the conference, “transformative leadership in times of polycrisis”, which only few months before had seemed to many a simple exercise of anticipation, proved to capture perfectly the feelings of many participants, who arrived in Doha looking for answers and solutions to an unprecedently complex web of problems.
The challenges faced by the humanitarian sector are both personal and professional
I am a humanitarian living and working in Cuba, one of the most unseen crisis in the world (some participants to the conference openly admitted that they did not know that since 2022 Cuba has been affected by 3 devastating hurricanes, a strong earthquake and a growing socioeconomic crisis that keeps every day the country in the darkness for several hours, and has brought more than one million people – one tenth of the total population – to flee). I had to travel almost 3 days to reach Qatar, and I found myself overwhelmed by the intensity, variety, depth of the content shared through the conference.
As I often do, I decided to use storytelling to create threads and a sort of order among this huge volume of information, and I invited 6 of the people who had impressed me the most to share their own story, guided by two questions:
In times of polycrisis, what is one challenge and one opportunity for you and your organization?
What is one thing from this conference that makes you hopeful for the future?
I had to arrange interviews in very different times of each day. Some speakers could make it very early in the morning, had to skip breakfast and so their voice was still a bit rusty. Others gave me their time after a long day of conference. Their voices sound tired. Some had to speak the day after. Their voices betray anxiety. Some were happy with the outcome of their session. Their voices sound hopeful.
They were all honest, generous, gentle to me, and their perspective helped me in finding my way through the conference.
One month after the conference, I feel I can draw some reflections:
Local leadership is now. As a coach told me once, a “beautiful, unique party is happening now”. Organizations need to decide if they are ready to join, or if they prefer to just keep discussing The transformation we have been talking about for long is already taking place. In the Emergency Response Rooms (ERR) in Sudan, through the courageous appeals of the Myanmar civil society, the actions of the White Helmets and of the many others that decided to take action and not to wait for those in power to give them permission.
Finally, the discourse on the coloniality entrenched in the system is gaining voice and space. The abstract need to “decolonize the sector” is slowly being transformed into a series of creative, profound attempts to analyse all our practices, to identify the coloniality that shapes them, and to transform them into something else. We need to work for change to happen at all levels. Advocacy and alliance at global level is paramount. Bringing philanthropy onboard and contributing to its own change is also very important, but we also need to look critically at the principles that move humanitarian assistance, and at our processes. Coloniality needs to be disentangled one piece after the other.
INGOs are struggling to follow the rhythm of this change. Some that signed the Pledge for Change in 2022 today face difficulties inchanging a system built on inequalities. But besides those initial 12 signatories of the Pledge for Change, and a few notable others the debate on the decolonization of practices and processes is virtually absent from the agenda of many, while others engage in aesthetic debates on the use of correct vocabulary.
In summary, the humanitarian leadership conference 2025 left many questions on how to leverage transformative leadership to bring about a new humanitarian sector.
However, something emerged clearly: the change we have been talking of happening before our eyes. Are we being this change, or are we rather standing aside? Each one will make their own choice. Meanwhile, enjoy the listening.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the Author
Carla Vitantonio
Carla Vitantonio is a humanitarian practitioner and researcher who has worked across a number of contexts and organisations, including CARE (as country Director for Cuba), and Handicap International (including as country Director for North Korea). She contributes to academic research initiatives at institutes including the Vrije Universiteit Brussel, the European University Institute, and ODI. Carla hosts the podcast ‘Living Decoloniality’, and also serves on the Board of the International Humanitarian Studies Association, as well as regularly contributing blogs, think pieces and papers – in English, Spanish, and Italian.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
In this blog, Dr Maria Gabriela Palacio uses the example of The Darien Gap (a jungle crossing formerly utilised by forced migrants and refugees to travel North towards the USA) to consider the effects of recently changed and more brutal deportation policies put into place by the USA. More and more Ecuadorians are being forcefully returned to a country suffering from multiple damaging geopolitical currents, which is being asked to process large numbers of deportees whilst grappling with its patterns of out-migration.
Photo Credit: Akpan, 2024 Simulated by ChatGPT
Barely months ago, Ecuadorians were the second-largest group braving the perilous Darién Gap on their way to the United States; today, the trail is almost silent. Their abrupt disappearance is not just the outcome of a new deportation rule-set. It exposes a deeper political-economy in which mobility and immobility are governed by structures that render certain lives dispensable.
At the centre of this shift is the renewed U.S. deportation regime. Since Trump’s return to office, more than 100,000 people have been deported in just ten weeks. Over 2,000 Ecuadorians have been forcibly returned, many without hearings, detained in private facilities and flown home under armed guard. This is governance through expulsion.
Ecuadorians today are not “deciding” to stay or return. For many, the journey ends not at the border but on a deportation flight, disoriented and handcuffed, arriving with a plastic bag of belongings at Guayaquil airport. They are not returning to opportunity but to the same political and economic structures that first pushed them out.
This is not just the arithmetic of migration: it is the logic of a global regime of accumulation that produces and manages surplus populations. A critical political economy perspective reveals that migration is not just a reaction to hardship but a structural outcome wherein labour becomes mobile, governable, and dispensable due to long-established patterns of dependency, dispossession, and coercive governance. Deportation, in this light, is not a policy failure but a tool that sorts, removes, and disciplines those made surplus by design.
Others, unable to return or continue northward, remain like many other Latin American migrants trapped along the Andes–Central America–North America corridor, caught between increasingly punitive migration regimes and the uncertain protection of overstretched asylum systems. As migration routes are militarised and digital tools for asylum access are cancelled or restricted, a growing number of migrants are forced into reverse movement, undertaking costly and dangerous journeys back south. Some, like those arriving in the Colombian port town of Necoclí, spend thousands of dollars only to find themselves unable to continue or return, stranded without money, documents, or shelter. For others, the journey halts mid-route, creating new bottlenecks in Panama, Guatemala, or southern Mexico.
In these spaces of stalled mobility, migrants navigate a dense ecosystem of state and non-state actors: smugglers, private contractors, ferry operators, humanitarian organisations, and municipal authorities, forming a transnational migration industry. This industry manages not just “flows” but also immobility. It offers temporary passage, paperwork, food, or credit, often at a high cost, while blurring the line between protection and extraction. As formal protections shrink, mobility becomes commodified, mediated through precarious arrangements that feed off uncertainty and the shifting contours of migration policy.
What happens when a country simultaneously expels and receives its people, when labour is demanded abroad yet unprotected, and its return is funnelled into informal survival? These trajectories are not individual mishaps; they are produced by a regime that displaces populations through extraction, polices them through securitised borders, and repatriates them under the veneer of humanitarian policy.
In Ecuador, that regime is palpable: rolling blackouts stall hospitals and markets, armed violence reaches classrooms, and Indigenous territories are carved up by legal and paralegal extractive fronts. None of this is accidental. It stems from the dismantling of public infrastructure and the transfer of land and power to corporate actors, all within a global order that treats impoverished, racialised populations as surplus problems to be contained, displaced or discarded.
The question, then, is not only why Ecuadorians are returning but what kind of world is making this return inevitable.
The empty Darién trail is not the end of a journey but proof that a border system built on expulsion works as intended. It shifts responsibility from the global North to Latin American states and turns human mobility into a profitable detention, surveillance and return market. Deportation, in this context, is not an exception.
We must begin by asking different questions. Not only how to make migration safer or more “orderly,” but how to dismantle the global structures that produce dispensability in the first place. Migration regimes do not simply fail; they succeed in what they are designed to do: sort, discipline, and displace surplus populations created by extractive capitalism and securitised governance. In this view, deportation is not an aberration; it is the tangible expression of a world order that governs through expulsion. It legitimises neglect, turns mobility into criminality, and transforms human lives into data points in a market of detention, surveillance, and return.
The return of Ecuadorians is not the end of a journey; it is proof that a border regime built on expulsion works exactly as designed.
Notes:
For readers who want to trace the argument from Ecuador’s current return-migration crisis back to its structural roots, start with Jara, Mideros and Palacio (eds.) 2024, Política social, pobreza y desigualdad en el Ecuador, 1980-2021 my co-edited volume that charts four decades of welfare retrenchment, labour precarity and territorial inequalities. Then situate those findings within the broader political economy canon: W. Arthur Lewis’s (1954) seminal essay on surplus labour, Celso Furtado’s (1966) classic dependency analysis, Saskia Sassen’s (2014) study of “systemic expulsions” under global capitalism, and Tania Murray Li’s (2010) account of how neoliberal governance renders populations surplus.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the author
María Gabriela Palacio
Maria Gabriela Palacio is an Assistant Professor in Development Studies at the Institute for History, Faculty of Humanities, Leiden University. Her research asks how political-economic forces, social policy and migration regimes shape poverty, inequality and (in)security in Latin America. Trained as an economist, she holds a PhD and MA in Development Studies (ISS, Erasmus University Rotterdam), an MSc in NGO Management and Social Economy (Universitat de València) and a BA in Economics (Pontificia Universidad Católica del Ecuador).
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
Colombian President Gustavo Petro signs a Pact for Land and Life; Revolution for Life, committing to carry out land redistribution, restitution, and recognition to enable rural working people to pursue economically and ecologically regenerative livelihoods. In this blog, Prof. Jun Borras and Itayosara Herrera discuss the implications of this pact.
Photo Credit: Ministry of Agriculture, Colombia
In February 2025, in Chicoral, Tolima, Colombia, 5,000 campesinos, Afrodescendants, Indigenous and government officials gathered for two days, and made a pact: Pacto fpr la Tierra y la Vida – Pact for Land and Life; Revolution for Life. The 12-point agreement signed by President Gustavo Petro and representatives of grassroots social movements revolved around the commitment to carry out land redistribution, restitution, and recognition to enable rural working people to pursue economically and ecologically regenerative livelihoods, with meaningful representation. The Chicoral event tries to undo a past in Colombia, and confronts a difficult challenge in the present world.
Undoing the past
In 1972 in Chicoral, landed elites and traditional political parties conspired to dismantle the 1960s redistributive land reform. They pushed to relax the criteria for defining unproductive land and inadequate land use to effectively avoid expropriation. This agreement became known infamously as the Pacto de Chicoral. It marked the definitive burial of Colombia’s redistributive land reform. It was, in essence, a pact of death—the death of land reform in Colombia—whose consequences continue to shape society today. Instead of redistribution, Colombia experienced more than half a century of counter-land reform, which led to increased violence in rural areas and the unprecedented expansion of the agricultural frontier with internal colonization in lieu of redistribution. This would also contribute to the rise of coca cultivation under the control of narco syndicates. Ultimately, it fed into the divide-and-rule strategy of the elites toward campesinos, Indigenous, and Afrodescendants.
Chicoral2025 is historic as it flips Chicoral1972: from the death of land reform to a commitment to redistributive land policies. It is ground-breaking as it is a pledge for a common front of struggles for land among campesinos, Afrodescendants and the Indigenous, aspiring to put an end to the divide-and-rule tactic employed by counter-reformists.
Confronting current challenges
The contemporary climate of land politics is extremely hostile to redistributive land policies, reflected in the continuing global land grabs. The condition is marked a global consensus among reactionary forces celebrating land grabbing, while maligning redistributive land reforms, as exemplified in Trump’s plan for the Gaza land grab while rejecting a modest liberal land reform in South Africa that land reform advocates in that country are not even happy about.
This current condition did not emerge from nowhere. It is a direct offshoot of decades of neoliberalization of land policies. The neoliberal consensus has deployed coordinated tactics.
First, rolling back gains in redistributive land policies, largely through market-based economic policies hostile to small-scale farmers.
Second, containing the extent of implementation of existing redistributive land policies where these exist.
Third, blocking any initiative to pass new redistributive land policies in societies where these are needed.
Fourth, reinterpreting existing laws and narratives away from their social justice moorings and towards free market dogmas; thus, land tenure security means security for the owners of big estates and capital.
Finally, all four are being done in order to promote market-based, neoliberal land policies: justification and promotion of market-based land policies, formalization of land claims without prior or accompanying redistribution which simply ratifies what exists.
Minister of Agriculture Martha Carvajalino, Chicoral, February 2025 Photo Credit: Jun Borras
When neoliberalism gained ground in the 1980s, among the first casualties was redistributive land policies. The heart and soul of classical land reform were:
(a) land size ceiling, a cap to how much land one can accumulate and
(b) the right to a minimum access to an economically viable land size, or land for those who work it.
Today, land size ceiling is a taboo. Thus, programmes for providing minimum access to land to build-scale farms have difficulty finding land to redistribute.
During the past four decades, there have been only a handful of countries that managed to pursue redistributive land reforms: Bolivia, Brazil, Colombia, the Philippines, and Zimbabwe. Significant programs have provided collective land titles for the Indigenous such as the one in Colombia, although many of these lands are in isolated, marginal geographic spaces.
The more common accomplishments are a variety of petty reforms. Small reforms are not inherently good or bad, and they are good especially when they provide immediate relief to ordinary working people. They constitute ‘petty reformism’, a negative term, when small reforms were done in lieu of systemic deep reforms. Thus, limited land titling, formalization of land claims, and individualization and privatization of the commons – often labeled under a misleadingly vague banner: land tenure security, which is often about the security of the owners of big estates and capital.
Globalizing Chirocal2025
The need for land redistribution, restitution and recognition remains urgent and necessary, for Colombia and the world. This is even more so in the current era when dominant classes other than agrarian elites aggressively grab land from peasants and Indigenous: profiteers behind market-based climate change mitigation and adaptation strategies, corporate actors in renewable energy sector, global food system giants and financial capital. The forces against reforms have multiplied. But so as the potential forces in favour of reforms. The main alliance for redistributive land policies today is no longer limited to agrarian classes and state reformists; rather, it has to necessarily include social forces in food, environmental and climate justice, as well as labour justice, movements and struggles.
In 1979, FAO convened in Rome the World Conference on Agrarian Reform and Rural Development (WCARRD) hoping to bring new energy to global land reformism. The following year turned out to be beginning of the end of classic land reforms as neoliberalism kicked in and put an end to state-driven redistributive land policies. In March 2006, FAO convened a follow-up to WCARRD, the International Conference Agrarian Reform and Rural Development (ICARRD) in Porto Alegre, Brazil, with the goal of reviving efforts at democratizing land politics. The following year, the global land rush exploded that led to the dispossession of millions of peasants and Indigenous worldwide. In February 2026, twenty years after Porto Alegre, ICARRD+20 will be convened by the Colombian government. It is a very timely international initiative. Chicoral2025 signals what kind of agenda the Colombian government wants to emerge at ICARRD+20: a deep commitment to democratic land politics for regenerative renewal of life.
Several researchers from the ISS-based ERC Advanced Grant project RRUSHES-5 and the Democratizing Knowledge Politics Initiative under the Erasmus Professors program for positive societal impact of Erasmus University Rotterdam are engaged in the Pact for Land and Life process.
About the Authors:
Saturnino (‘Jun’) M. Borras Jr.
Saturnino (‘Jun’) M. Borras Jr. is a Professor of Agrarian Studies at the International Institute of Social Studies (ISS), The Hague. He served as Editor-in-Chief of the Journal of Peasant Studies for 15 years until 2023 and is part of the Erasmus Professor Program for Societal Impact at Erasmus University Rotterdam. He holds an ERC Advanced Grant for research on global land and commodity rushes and their impact on food, climate, labour, citizenship, and geopolitics. He is also a Distinguished Professor at China Agricultural University and an associate of the Transnational Institute. Previously, he was Canada Research Chair in International Development Studies at Saint Mary’s University (2007–2010).
Itayosara Rojas Herrera
Itayosara Rojas is a PhD Researcher at International Institute of Social Studies (ISS), Erasmus University Rotterdam. She is member of a European Research Council (ERC) Advanced Grant awarded project “Commodity & Land Rushes and Regimes: Reshaping Five Spheres of Global Social Life (RRUSHES-5)” led by Professor Jun Borras. As part of this project, Itayosara examines how the contemporary global commodity/land rushes (re)shape the politics of climate change, labour, and state-citizenship relations in the Colombian Amazon.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
In this blog, Drs. Shyamika Jayasundara-Smits and Bilge Sahin reflect on Home Game, a documentary that unfolds not simply as a story of survival but as a profound meditation on the human condition—on displacement, memory, and the perpetual search for identity and belonging. Based on their contributions as panelists alongside the filmmaker—moderated by Gabriela Anderson of The Hague Humanitarian Studies Centre—this piece revisits key themes discussed during the special screening at the 2025 Movies that Matter Festival at the Filmhuis in The Hague.
Photo Credit: Barbara Raatgever
Set against the backdrop of the breakup of Yugoslavia and its aftermath, Home Game resists conventional narratives of linear healing or neat resolution. Instead, it invites viewers into the fractured, nonlinear experiences of its protagonists, weaving together personal memory and political critique in ways that linger long after the screen fades to black.
The film follows the life path of Lidija Zelovic, opening in Sarajevo during the turbulent 1990s. Lidija’s grandmother offers a haunting reflection: “There is peace until the shot is fired. But once the shot is fired, one realizes that the war started much earlier. Only then it is too late.” This single line unsettles common understandings of war and peace, refusing to treat them as discrete events. Rather, it exposes how the seeds of violence are often sown long before bullets fly—embedded in social, political, and economic structures.
This insight resonates strongly with Johan Galtung’s theory of structural violence. Structural violence refers to the harm caused by systems of inequality—patriarchy, racism, capitalism—that may not be overtly violent but are nonetheless profoundly injurious. These latent forms of harm, often normalized or rendered invisible, create the very conditions that make war possible. Thus, as Home Game suggests, the temporal boundary between war and peace is not a clean break but a blurry continuum.
This continuum is further explored when Lidija and her family relocate to the Netherlands as refugees. On the surface, they escape war. But the film astutely reveals how violence endures in less visible forms: through xenophobic political rhetoric, subtle exclusions, and the cultural dissonance of living between worlds. In the so-called “peaceful” West, the trauma of war does not dissipate—it mutates. Later in the documentary, as Lidija’s mother watches Dutch television from Bosnia, where the family are holidaying, she remarks, “They know how to live.” It is a moment filled with longing and alienation, proximity and distance. A good life appears within reach, yet remains stubbornly inaccessible.
In this way, Home Game challenges simplistic portrayals of migration as a journey from danger to safety, from trauma to recovery. The film instead treats home-making as a fractured and continuous process. Displacement produces a liminal existence—where the self is suspended between multiple geographies, languages, and temporalities. Home is no longer a stable place; it becomes both here and there, both past and present, and never fully one or the other.
Lidija’s now-teenage son, born and raised in the Netherlands, is a powerful example of this, feeling torn between his Bosnian heritage and his Dutch citizenship. His manner of untangling his various identities is contrasted with that of Lidija’s father, who dismisses the idea of being buried in the Netherlands after his death. His eventual interring in a grave in Zaandam marks a ‘full circle’ moment in the film, with Lidija noting that her son now feels Dutch as the screen darkens on an image of the family paying their respects.
One of the most powerful moments in the film occurs when Lidija returns to her childhood home in Sarajevo. Looking out at the familiar cityscape, she says, “I like it because it is mine.” But when her son asks, “Is the view of your country different?” she replies, “I am different; I don’t know about the view.” Her words capture the estrangement that displacement brings—not just from place, but from oneself. The trauma of war ruptures more than just space; it breaks the continuity of self, severing the past from the present in painful and irreversible ways.
Yet, Home Game is not a film of despair. It is honest about the wounds of war—many of which may never fully heal—but it is equally attentive to the quiet resilience of those who carry on. There is joy in the mundane: in a shared meal, a laugh, a football match. These moments are not trivial; they are the fragile threads from which new forms of life are woven.
Here, trauma studies provide an important lens. Scholars increasingly recognize that trauma is not solely destructive. It can also generate what is known as post-traumatic growth: a redefinition of identity, deeper empathy, new affiliations. Home Game captures this duality beautifully. Its protagonists, though fractured, are not broken. They carry layered identities—shaped by loss, survival, and hope—that continue to evolve through everyday acts of connection.
This interplay of trauma and transformation also has a political dimension. Drawing from Hannah Arendt’s concept of the “space of appearance,” the film becomes more than a personal story—it is a political act. Arendt reminds us of that action and speech among others in shared space is what constitutes the political. Home Game creates such a space, where pain, joy, and memory coexist. Through its portrayal of fractured identities and evolving relationships, it reclaims the political from the margins—from the survivors, the refugees, the displaced. Ernesto Laclau’s idea of the “internal antagonistic frontier” further enriches this reading. For Laclau, all social formations contain unresolved tensions—conflicts that can’t be eliminated, only negotiated. Home Game refuses to resolve these tensions. Instead, it makes them visible. Whether it’s the feeling of not fully belonging in the Netherlands or the ambivalence of returning to Sarajevo, the film insists on the legitimacy of contradiction. The documentary becomes a site of dissensus—a space where complex truths can coexist without being forced into a single narrative.
In refusing closure, Home Game speaks a deeper truth. Will there ever be full healing? A return to what was lost? The film suggests perhaps not. And perhaps that’s okay. Home Game is a reminder that home is not merely a place. It is a practice, process, and feeling that may flicker but never fully disappear. Home as well as life is not a tidy arc from trauma to triumph. It is recursive, messy, filled with beginnings that masquerade as endings and endings that open new questions. What matters, the film suggests, is not arriving at a final destination, but learning how to carry our stories—with complexity, dignity, and grace.
This special screening of ‘Home Game’ was put together by the Leiden-Delft-Erasmus Centre for Governance of Migration and Diversity (LDE GMD) together with Leiden-Delft-Erasmus Global. The other two organizers are the International Institute of Social Studies (ISS-EUR) and the Humanitarian Studies Centre. Photo credits from the event go to Barbara Raatgever. ‘Home Game’ is screening across the Netherlands throughout 2025.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the authors
Shyamika Jayasundara-Smits
Dr. Shyamika Jayasundara-Smits is an Associate Professor in Conflict and Peace Studies at ISS/Erasmus University Rotterdam. She is a transdisciplinary researcher specializing in Political Science, with expertise in International Relations and Critical Peace and Conflict Studies. Her research and teaching focuses on the intersections of governance, development, armed conflict, post-war transitions, and peacebuilding.
Bilge Sahin
Dr. Bilge Sahin is an Assistant Professor of Conflict and Peace Studies at the International Institute of Social Studies (ISS), Erasmus University Rotterdam. Her teaching and research explore the complex intersections of gender, sexuality, war, and security.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
Domestic fires have heavily affected Bukavu in the eastern Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), causing deadly humanitarian crises with multiple effects. In 2024 alone, the DRC Humanitarian Observatory (DRC H-O) reported at least 59 cases of domestic fires leading to at least 21 deaths, 2706 houses, 5 schools and 4 churches were burnt, while at least 15,945 people were affected. However, proper urbanization and enforcement of Congolese urban regulations and norms could make a difference. In this blog, members of the DRC H-O call for more actions to prevent this type of crisis in the country and other similar contexts worldwide.Domestic fire at Kabono in the Kasali street in Kadutu, eastern DRC, 2024Domestic fires burning houses and resulting in dramatic effects
Bukavu is the capital city of the South-Kivu province in the eastern DRC. In 2024, its population was estimated to be at least at 1.3 million inhabitants, with almost two third living in less urbanized zones, with only 68.6% (∼29.7 km2) having been built-up. In the last 5 years, the city has been experiencing unprecedented cases of burnt houses with loss of numerous assets and many people’s deaths and injury, as well as multiple damages creating a visible yearly humanitarian repeated crisis. From 2018 through 2023, Mulengezi et al. have estimated increasing exponential cases of deaths (633.3%) and houses burnt (6501%). The DRC Humanitarian Observatory conducted a field visit to the three municipalities of the Bukavu city to inform this report.
Some observations
This report concerns the Camp-Zaïre and Inga avenue domestic fires in June 2023 and of the first nine months of 2024 in Bukavu; a domestic fire crisis in the city.
In 2023, in the night of 3 to 4 June, a large domestic fire occurred in the Camp-Zaïre and Inga avenues leaving at least 1098 people without homes forced to become internally displaced persons, the case being the fourth reported in the same Nkafu street in 2023 and the second in the same avenues since 2019. From January to September 2024, according to the DRC-HO, at least 59 domestic fire cases happened in Bukavu leading to at least 21 deaths, 2706 houses being damaged, 5 schools and 4 church buildings burnt and leaving at least 15,945 without homes and shelters, as can be seen in Figure 1. Fire has affected mostly the Kadutu and Ibanda communes with a peak in Nyalukemba (11.9%) in the former, and Nyakaliba (23.7%), Nkafu (20.3%) in the latter. However, in terms of houses burnt, Nyamugo Street was the most affected, with at least 2000 out of 2706 houses having been burnt, representing 73.9% of the total. In addition, other effects varied from burnt trees, conflicts over land among neighbours, many losses of valuable documents, including land property certificates, academic and high school diplomas, and electoral cards.
Domestic fires in Bukavu: some challenges in humanitarian assistance
Combatting these quick-spreading fires poses significant challenges, including those related to humanitarian assistance delivery.
Challenges of urbanization, electricity, road, and fire engine access
Despite the existence of Congolese regulations related to construction in urban settings and electrification of homes, many overcrowded houses built in unsuitable locations pose risks of erosion in the rainy season and of domestic fires during the dry season. These are made of semi-durable material and wood, and built next to each other without any space or footpath, creating a risk of fire spreading from one house to another and huge challenges to put out the fire. Houses are often located in areas with poorly constructed buildings, frequently have inadequate electricity installations, and due to a lack of roads for fire engine access, prompt intervention is difficult. The fire department also lacks the necessary equipment to intervene, and its staff are less trained and less motivated to do their job as firefighters. Though some fire engines exist in the city, they often lack fuel and proper maintenance to operate in case of an emergency, such as a domestic fire.
Challenges of the coordination committee, lists, and relocation
The most frequently mentioned challenge was the manipulation of lists of affected community members by local chiefs. There is evidence of these chiefs including their brothers and sisters even when they were not victims of the crisis on the lists to access individual benefits from aid distribution. The chiefs exaggerated some of these lists, though affected people were also included. The case comes from an avenue where victims received one metal sheet each, while non-victims received five metal sheets each, because they were either brothers, sisters or friends of the local chief. This is a common manifestation of a lack of transparency and accountability of the local aid coordination committee for personal interests; in some sites, there is not a real aid coordination committee; those who improvise themselves, do it for the sake to benefit from aid.
2. Challenges of unanswered needs and insufficient assistance
Despite assistance provided by the Central DRC Government through her Excellency the Prime Minister, the First Lady, the Provincial Government through his Excellency the Governor of Province, some philanthropic foundations, some private initiatives by a National Parliamentary members, aid remained generally insufficient. Assistance that was provided related mostly to food, rather than to Essential Households Assets (EHA) and shelters; humanitarian agencies (including the United Nations agencies) were virtually invisible, except for some such as the al Imdaad foundation. At the same time, basic needs of health, education, water, hygiene and sanitation (WASH), housing and relocation remained unanswered, and the affected community themselves identified the highest need for construction materials. It is true that sometimes the Government is overwhelmed with many crises to the extent of not being able to answer affected people’s needs in varied sites and zones.
Risk factors of domestic fire
In Bukavu, data collected by the DRC-HO have shown that mainly the lack of proper urbanization and the lack of enforcement of existing urban regulations and norms are the main risk factor to domestic fire and its humanitarian repeated crises. We found key risks broken down into imprudence in kitchen (45.8%), unknown causes (39.6%), and bad installation of electricity (6.3%), intra-house conflict (4.2%), criminal act and fire at fuel station (2.1%), respectively.
Recommendations in six areas
Better urbanization of the city and enforcement of regulations and urban norms at the municipality and division of land offices: To jail all of actors who deviate from regulations.Residents to demand and enforce such accountability by both judicial and administrative actors.
Relocation of all affected people to areas away from the risk of building collapseand domestic fire. Selecting these areas based on criteria of suitability for construction with electricity and water, closer to markets, schools and churches and accessible by road.
Reinforce qualitatively and quantitatively the local anti-fire brigade: Regularly revisit the training, motivation and equipment of the staff hired within the brigade, ensure that engines are always available and ready to stop any propagation of fire.
Creation of a ‘basket fund’ to prevent and combat domestic fires. Contribution of both National and Provincial Governments, of people of good will, parliamentary members and of private initiative to secure some fund to prevent fire and support anti-fire actions.
Promoting accountability and setting up earlier the coordination committee of assistance that is up to the task: Prompt selection of people, men and women from different backgrounds, motivated to identify victims and channel their needs to humanitarian actors. Also, being transparent and more accountable both vertically and horizontally about aid delivery to only affected people and involving affected community members in all cycle of assistance.
Regular advocacy and awareness raising of different sections of population: Intensive advocacy and awareness raising activities on: (i) the risk of domestic fire due to bad constructions and how to strengthen synergies of local chiefs to resist against any sort of land spoliation;(ii) mentality change to construct houses in durable materials and appropriate sites in cities;(iii) rural exodus by improving conditions in rural areas and; (iv) proper electricity installation in houses and set up an earlier warning system to prevent the spreading of fire.
[1] We recognize active participation of the DRC-HO members in the discussions of the 8 November 2024 advocacy café and the DRC-HO of 15 November 2024 from which the current blog is written, including Denise Shukuru Manegabe, Samuel Kyamundu, Jules Amani Kamanyula, Patience Mwanuka, Datty Hamuli, Eliane Ndagano, Gentil Kavusa, Jeremie Byenda and Julien Lukubika.Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the authors:
Patrick Milabyo Kyamusugulwa is Professor at the Bukavu High Institute of Medical Techniques, in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC). He is a member of the DRC Humanitarian Observatory and a member of the Social Science Centre for African Development-KUTAFITI.
Delu Lusambya Mwenebyake is a PhD researcher at the International Institute of Social Studies (Erasmus University Rotterdam). Delu is working on humanitarian governance in the Democratic Republic of Congo: Community-driven, accountability, and advocacy in Humanitarian Actions.
Innocent Assumani Muganza is member of the DRC Humanitarian Observatory board in addition to being member of the Observatory.
Moise Amissi Esdra is Assistant at ISDR-Bukavu, member of CREGED and the DRC Humanitarian Observatory.
Salumu Saidi is member of both Assist asbl and the DRC Humanitarian Observatory.
Felicien Ahadi Mutaga is member of both Assist and the DRC Humanitarian Observatory.
Emmanuel Louis Muhanzi is member of both CERDHO of the Catholic University of Bukavu and the DRC Humanitarian Observatory.
Henri Kintuntu Munyangi is member of the DRC Humanitarian Observatory.
Kisangani Zacharie is member the DRC Humanitarian Observatory.
Léonie Aishe Saidi is a medical doctor, both member of Assist asbl and the DRC Humanitarian Observatory.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
This blog is part of the Humanitarian Governance: Accountability, Advocacy, Alternatives’ project. This project has received funding from the European Research Council (ERC) under the European Union’s Horizon 2020 research and innovation programme under grant agreement No. 884139
Humanitarianism has long been in crisis, but since early 2025, the sector has been experiencing an unprecedented organizational, institutional, normative, and political collapse. In this blog, Kristin Sandvik from the University of Oslo, calls on scholars active in the broad, inter-, and multidisciplinary field of humanitarian studies to try to understand and analyze the impact of this collapse and address the important institutional challenges it obliges us to grapple with.
This spring, I have the privilege of being on sabbatical from my University professorship. My main project is to draft the book Regulating Humanitarianism and submit a complete manuscript to the publisher. Things have not turned out quite that way. Over the past few weeks, it has seemed like the aid sector is not so much going through a process of de-regulating as uncertain and undetermined processes of de-regularizing, de-flating, de-composing, and many other things beginning with ‘de.’ In trying to regain my lost plot I have been speaking to fellow academics, activists, NGO workers, UN staff, and humanitarian leaders across the sector to learn how they see the causes and consequences of what is currently unfolding.
”This has led me to think that we as a scholarly community also have some collective work to do. This blog is an invitation to engage.”
When thinking about the question ‘What now for humanitarian studies,’ I begin by articulating my concerns about three orders of harm.
The first order of concern is about the direct harms arising from this collapse and the impact on communities and individuals in crisis. This ranges from the cutting of food rations and medical treatment to the closure of educational opportunities, the chilling effect on the eradication of diversity initiatives and gender-based programming, and the folding of refugee resettlement programs to name but a few. As pertinently noted, because the constituencies hardest hit are not powerful, the effects may be wide-ranging but not highly visible. It is our job to identify, map, and understand these effects.
The second order of concern refers to what happens to the aid industry. From the debate in the sector – where many reiterate strong criticism over the sector’s continued failure to reform and decolonize, express frustration over how the meltdown is being handled, and the resistance among some actors (particularly the upper echelons of the humanitarian UN) to take on board the implications of current events – it seems clear that while the most important challenges for humanitarians pre-2025 and in 2025 remain the same, something fundamental has changed. The post-Cold War humanitarian moment has been over for a long time. Now it appears that the post-World War humanitarian order has ended. If this suggestion turns out to be correct, the implications are enormous. Again, figuring this out is clearly part of our job description. A raft of issues calls for our attention: what are the normative and logistical aspects of abrupt project and organizational closures? What is the predicament of abandoned, neglected, or compromised digital infrastructure? Between the reform-is-possible camp and the burn-it-all-down/good-riddance-finally crowd, what ideas are emerging about the future of aid?
The third order of concern pertains to us – the relatively small scholarly community involved in humanitarian studies and our fitness for purpose (which is knowledge production). Figuring out the dilemmas here and what is at stake is our job – and only our job. My hypotheses for the medium-to-the-long term future are the following:
With fewer jobs in the aid sector, there will be less need for formal qualifications. This means that for education – mainly revolving around master programs – the prospects are potentially bleak. A comparative and detailed conversation about budgets, institutional strategies, student enrollments, and labor market relevance is required to give us a fuller picture of the medium-to-long term of master programs. I would suggest that a collaborative conversation is also needed for thinking about building and maintaining political constituencies for emergency management and humanitarian response education.
Funding for research on humanitarian crises has never been lavish, but such funding has been available in the last fifteen years, contributing to a radical increase in the PhDs and postdocs doing their academic work in the humanitarian studies field. While the heyday of humanitarian studies project-making has been over for a while, funding availability will continue to decrease: Not only due to the active sidelining of the concerns and approaches of the humanitarian sector but also due to attention being focused elsewhere (Procurement. Of. Military. Equipment). This means less of everything.
With fewer projects and more limited institutional structures – and a shrunken academic community – there will also be less research output. In some ways, this is not necessarily an exclusively negative development. Like most other fields, overproduction has become endemic in humanitarian studies.
While these tiers of harm cover a vast political, cultural, and legal landscape, they all point to the same question:
”Who will we be when all of this has come to pass? Will we be (useful/relevant/contributing to) anything at all?”
Yet, for the short term, another problem is more acute, academically and practically speaking. On the bright side, this is also an issue which we have some kind of collective control over. Over the past weeks, one thing has surely been business as usual: I have had to review and evaluate! Some of the things I have been reading have been great, others unfinished, and some not really worth publishing. This is normal. What feels less normal is the distinct sense that even where academic excellence has been on display, the work is partly or wholly outdated. This is work that speaks to the world of yesterday and a sector that to a considerable extent looks different with different structural problems and different explanations for these problems and what one can do about them.
For us as a field, we need to think carefully about how we manage our publication pipeline over the next year. If we do not think strategically about the pipeline issue, I fear we risk (even greater) academic and policy irrelevance.
”For us as a scholarly community, not only maintaining relevance but doubling down on societal relevance is crucial for continued viability.”
To start a conversation about concrete scenarios, I have formulated three quite different approaches to this dilemma.
One possibility is to adopt the stance that, for quality academic work, the dangers of real-time diagnostics and presentism are as grave as the threat of topical outdatedness. According to this approach, we should hold our ground, maintain high academic standards, and insist on scholarly rigor, but otherwise, we should keep calm and carry on. There is also a normative aspect: many early career scholars have worked hard on articles, chapters, and books that they can ill afford to have dismissed as ‘largely meaningless,’ so this lens should not be applied to peer review and acceptance policies.
Yet, no matter how good the quality of the publication is, we cannot end up in a situation where the most important humanitarian studies journals are stacked with pre-2025 discussions. According to this perspective, developing mitigation strategies is feasible and it’s timely to do that now. As a small topical field, we are facing a Cold War moment (imagine the morning of the Soviet scholar specialist as she gets herself a cup of tea and then realizes that the Soviet Union has stopped existing). Yet, many of the scholars in Cold War studies adapted by studying emerging topics (democracy), turning to historical archival research, or specializing in studying new actors (countries that had been part of the Soviet empire). To use some of the same language, instead of focusing on the reformist potential of the sector, we need to understand something about the political collapse of the sector as well as the logistical, political, and legal details of the unraveling. Authors should be supported in their efforts to pivot their work toward an analysis of change – but major revisions should also be the default response of scientific journals.
Time is scarce. The third approach is blunt but implementable without care and consideration: everything that smacks of being outdated is unceremoniously rejected with that explanation.
To sum it all up: This blog asks, ‘What now for humanitarian studies?.’ My short answer is that something fundamental is changing also for us. Third-order concerns about knowledge production are valid concerns.
Let’s talk about it.
I am grateful to Maria Gabrielsen Jumbert, Olaf Corry, Michael Barnett, Antonio De Lauri, Larissa Fast, Kristoffer Lidén, Stuart Ocampo, Giulio Coppi, Aaron Martin, and many others for engaging in conversations about the collapse of the aid sector and the future of humanitarian studies.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the Author
Kristin Bergtora Sandvik
Kristin Bergtora Sandvik is a research professor of humanitarian studies at PRIO and a professor of Criminology and Sociology of Law at the University of Oslo.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
What happened to the scholar that didn’t embrace new media? They ran out of cassette tapes! Awful jokes aside, it’s more and more important for scientists, and particularly social scientists, to be plugged in to society to better interact with it. A recent Economist article highlighted that academic research papers in the humanities and social sciences are getting harder to read, more convoluted and stuffed full of jargon and incomprehensible sentences. There is a perception in the ‘outside world’ (perhaps pushed by populist political currents!) that academics are starting to talk more just to other academics rather than to society at large, which is at the very least not conducive to a high level of public discourse. In some cases, it has led to the removal of experts from the policymaking process. At the same time, and partially thanks to the growing legions of science communications officers and the phenomenon of ‘cool geeks’, there are more opportunities than ever for (social) scientists to spread their ideas and research in accessible, bite-sized and socially engaged ways. Even the Lowlands Festival has a science pavilion to show off the latest research on everything from the psychology of perceptions of equality, quantum physics, the creative possibilities of generative AI and much more besides.
Tom Ansell, Sarah Njoroge (MSc) and Gabriela Anderson intend this blog as a call to academics to think along, repackage their work into fun and digestible gobbets and make use of the science communications talent available to help boost our collective ‘impact’… whatever ‘impact’ means!
This image was taken at Research InSightS LIVE #4 Conflict Compounded: Implications of the war in Ukraine on global development challenges
Social science is best when it’s in conversation with society
Aside from the self-fulfilment element, and the satisfaction of personal curiosity, social scientific research has a function of providing evidence-based approaches to societal questions that can inform various stakeholders in how they act. That could be the government, organizations, businesses or people themselves. Like many forms of scientific enquiry, it serves to further human knowledge, and so (indirectly and ideally) improve people’s lives or the society that they live in. The link between the academic and the society in which they function should be one of constant conversation, where ideas are presented to people, and then validated or reconsidered through their experiences and their interaction with the everyday (this is also expressed by Anthony Giddens as the ‘double hermeneutic’). Of course, this sentence may spark flashing lights in the minds of many academics reading this, but in short – social science is rooted in society and so should seek to be in conversation with ‘real’ people all the time. A social scientist that hides away in a university is an isolated one! This means that researchers must have a way of being in conversation with people. At least part of that conversation must be a clear transmission of social science theories in a compelling and clear way, and knowledge sharing in a form that is digestible, interesting and (hopefully) means that people in the ‘real world’ can see their own lives and questions in cutting-edge research.
This is especially true in the last few years , where a significant portion of the world’s institutions face ‘alternative facts’ and the rise of public discourse strongly influenced by a ‘post-truth’ world. During the COVID-19 pandemic, for example, the need to provide accurate and evidence-based advice to the general public was literally a matter of life and death. Knowledge of the mechanisms of how an mRNA vaccine worked (the Moderna one) helped ensure that enough people went and received the jab to reach the critical mass of vaccinated people. Now imagine if the various biologists had remained hidden behind a wall of jargon and specific terminology, and all the while remained in their labs and refused to speak to the public in understandable language. Naturally, the immediate risks aren’t quite the same in social science research uptake, but the need for public trust and mandate is the same. Where the influence of rigorous social scientific research would help, however, is in government policymaking. Imagine how the new Dutch international aid policy would look had various members of ISS’ work been consulted in its drafting. We can’t make policymakers listen to good research, but we can make it as easy as possible for them to find, digest and be interested by it.
Avoiding extractivism and ‘closing the loop’
Considering the other side of the conversation between research and the public, we need to move beyond the effort of making sure our writing reflects our values as researchers to be ethical and non-extractive only during the research process. Research even in these most critical and conscious of times still teeters on the lines of opinion-mining, often masquerading through notions such as ‘collaboration’ and ‘co-creation’. Jamie Gorman expresses this quite well in the quote (almost jokingly): ‘What does a social researcher have in common with an oil rig operator? The answer is that both can be miners engaged in the extraction of a precious resource’. For social science researchers, that precious resource is knowledge. A key part of making sure that research is non-extractive is ‘closing the loop’ and making sure that the people that have contributed to the research are both involved and can get something out of it (something called participatory research).
The potential impact of research does not stop before and during the research process, it needs to extend into the dissemination and communication of said research. By looking beyond the production of a research to how it can be shared to an audience outside of the academic community, we allow for a greater reach through inclusivity, accessibility and even opening up for future potentials in participation and, most importantly, allowing research to be useable (from theory to practice and vice versa). How is this done? By sharing research in different mediums and through different mediums and media. Examples include translated versions, both in terms of language and even the softening of academic and ‘waffle’ jargon, different (relevant) and contextual forms of outputs, such as radio broadcasts (in the case of the Democratic Republic of Congo), video abstracts, infographics, posters, dialogue cafes, podcasts, etc. In doing so, we reach people at their different levels in all their differences of backgrounds, making room for a greater impact from our research.
Moving from inaccessible papers to socially engaged media
So, how do we actually move from rigorous, well-researched ideas to public discourse and policy that reflect them? The best science communication doesn’t just ‘simplify’ research, it translates, distils, demystifies and engages. It meets people where they are, using formats that are accessible without compromising complexity, and applies sky high thinking to everyday life.
Take podcasts, for instance. The Good Humanitarianbridges the gap between academic research and humanitarianism and the real-world challenges practitioners face. MOOCS, or open access-learning, allows people – whether they have an educational background in social sciences or not – to engage with contemporary debates. Written and visual storytelling, from in-depth interviews, infographics and posters to interactive web experiences, has made complex and socio-political topics more digestible for a general audience. Live shows, such as Research InSightS LIVE or dialogue cafes invite people to listen and engage on topics in enjoyable, yet succinct formats. In addition, social media is increasingly becoming more important for visibility, and as a way to link research that proposes an alternate world to the people that can achieve it. Even platforms like TikTok have been effectively used to debunk misinformation and explain key social science concepts in under a minute, but all face potential challenges of course.
At the same time, researchers must be empowered to engage in these spaces. Not everyone who can run a hefty statistical model or analyse complex patterns can seamlessly translate these insights for public consumption. This is precisely where science communicators come in – not to dilute these ideas but to ensure that big ideas are clarified and shared widely. Closing the loop isn’t just an ethical responsibility in participatory research – it’s a vital step toward ensuring that knowledge serves people by feeding back into their livelihoods.
Science communicators do more than just support researchers. They can be catalysts for expanding the reach and impact of academic work at its inception. Research can often benefit from creativity and audience awareness that can make it resonate beyond academia. In other words, researchers and science communicators can make an excellent team – if they truly collaborate. That means not just seeing communicators as an ‘add-on’, but valuing their input, trusting their instincts and recognizing their ability to turn rigorous research into compelling narratives that engage policymakers, practitioners and the public alike, also extending their inclusion to before and during the research process, not only after.
If universities and research institutes truly want to make an impact, they need to rethink the way they communicate knowledge. The challenge isn’t just about writing readable research papers. It’s about shaping public discourse, informing policy and making social science a living, breathing conversation. After all, what good is knowledge if it’s locked away in academic journals?
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the authors:
Tom Ansell
Tom Ansell is the coordinator and programme manager of The Hague Humanitarian Studies Centre, and the Coordinator of the International Humanitarian Studies Association. He has a study background in religion and conflict transformation, as well as an interest in disaster risk reduction, and science communication and societal impact of (applied) research.
Sarah Njoroge
Sarah Njoroge (MSc) is a multi-skilled communications professional who tells stories on societal issues through videos, articles, podcasts and more. She has extensive experience writing, designing and co-producing content on international development. Sarah is currently a Digital Content Manager at RNW Media and formerly worked as a Communications Officer at ISS.
Gabriela Anderson
Gabriela Anderson is the community manager of The Hague Humanitarian Studies Centre and coordinates the Humanitarian Observatories Network. Graduating with a Master’s from the International Institue of Social Studies in 2022 with a focus on the Governance of Migration and Diversity, her research focuses on notions of (self-)representation, placemaking and the importance of inclusive communication in its various forms and through its different mediums, especially in areas of Conflict & Peace with both academic and practitioner related organizations.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
On the first day in office of his second presidential term, Donald Trump signed an executive order freezing the USAID for 90 days, reportedly to assess the programme’s ‘effectiveness and alignment with US foreign policy’. On 10 March 2025, US Secretary of State Marco Rubio ended the world’s most vulnerable communities’ slight hope by announcing the permanent suspension of the USAID’s 83% programme. This aggressive measure is the harshest blow to the organization’s operation since its establishment in 1961. The UK and Netherlands are also making similar moves, significantly diminishing their overseas development and humanitarian funding. The measure has a significant adverse impact in Ethiopia, where humanitarian aid is the only thread of hope, at least currently, for many affected communities, including millions of internally displaced persons (IDPs). In this blog, Alemayehu B. Hordofa and Marga F. Angerasa contend that humanitarian actors and donors have not achieved the necessary strengthening of local capacities to respond to the ongoing crisis in Ethiopia, and that they should redouble their efforts to take targeted normative and practical measures to enhance local resilience to counterbalance, in the long-term, the adverse impacts of policy changes in donor countries.This photo was taken in April 2024 by the first author in Seba Care Internally Displaced Persons camp. Volunteers are giving medical support to IDPs as a part of the BilalAid health outreach programme in Seba Care IDP shelter in Mekele, Ethiopia. BilalAid was established in 2024 by local youths who were previously volunteering informally in their communities to respond to humanitarian causes.Humanitarian funding in Ethiopia
Ethiopia is one of the biggest recipients of humanitarian aid in Africa. According to the 2024 Ethiopian Humanitarian Response Plan, over 21.4 million people in Ethiopia needed humanitarian assistance due to complex humanitarian crises such as climate change-induced disasters, armed conflicts, political violence, epidemic outbreaks and landslides. The conflict in Northern Ethiopia (2020-2022), the ongoing armed conflict in the Oromia and Amhara regions and climate change-induced food insecurity in south and south-west parts of the country displaced millions of individuals from their homes and have made them dependent on humanitarian aid. In some parts of the country, conflict(s) have coincided with drought, exacerbating the crisis and worsening the vulnerability of the affected communities. In 2024, the humanitarian community in Ethiopia appealed for 3.24 billion USD to reach 15.5 million people. This appeal raised only 1.79 billion USD, with the US government contributing 405.3 million USD. Beyond responding to the crisis as the primary duty-bearer, the Government of Ethiopia (GoE) also contributed 264.5 million USD to the 2024 Ethiopian Humanitarian Fund (EHF). This year, the EHF has anticipated a requirement of 2 billion USD to respond to multiple crises in various parts of the country. Given the need for humanitarian support, the humanitarian fund in the country is visibly inadequate, and various humanitarian interventions in Ethiopia are being challenged by, among other things, inadequate funding and unfulfilled promises of localization. The USAID suspension is another recent significant blow to the country’s dwindling and inadequate humanitarian funding.
The USAID aid suspension has placed the lives of vulnerable communities at risk
The USAID funding cut has placed the lives of millions of people in need of humanitarian assistance in peril. The aid was stopped without any back-up, thus exposing vulnerable communities to exceptionally dangerous risks. Beyond the impact on people receiving aid, the decision has resulted in many aid workers being made unemployed. The Ethiopian Ministry of Health terminated 5000 employment contracts due to the USAID aid suspension. These health workers were supporting clinics on HIV-related programmes in various parts of the country. Likewise, even though a significant portion of Ethiopia’s development aid funding now comes from international development banks (World Bank, AfDB, IMF), which come with both punitive interest rates and market reforms, the suspension of USAID affects the country’s foreign currency reserve and flow – further minimizing the agency of Ethiopian policymakers and local organizations.
In addition, the suspension of aid affects accountability relations in the humanitarian sector and beyond. Following the announcement of the funding suspension, over 85 percent of Civil Society Organizations suspended their programmes in Ethiopia. These CSOs were implementing programmes ranging from ensuring the right to access justice for displaced communities, advocating for accountability in the humanitarian sector and durable solutions and socio-economic recovery for conflict-affected peoples. The suspension decapitated CSOs operating in complex operational spaces and exacerbated the murky Ethiopian civil society environment. According to one humanitarian worker that we interviewed in Addis Ababa, ‘the suspension suppresses independent voices and shrinks the civic space as it inhibits vibrant CSOs from implementing programmes’. The CSOs that advance diverse perspectives are affected by the USAID suspension and only those that are supported by government will continue to operate in the country. This perspective was also shared by other participants during the interviews conducted by the first author for his PhD research on humanitarian governance in Ethiopia.
The devastating impact that the USAID aid cut caused in the first few weeks of the announcement unveiled the fragmentation and fragility of Ethiopian formal humanitarian governance, its excessive reliance on foreign aid and its under-investment in supporting local humanitarian initiatives. Conversely, it allowed the government and the humanitarian actors to revisit and critically reflect on their practices around accountability and localization, as well as build the resilience of local actors to make humanitarian actors more predictable, effective and accountable.
The role of local actors in responding to crises
Ethiopia’s humanitarian action is noted for its plurality of actors. There are diverse humanitarian actors with their own practices and policies. However, the actors’ interventions vary in mandate, capacity and ability to respond to and cope with emergencies. They possess completely unequal power, leverage and authority, which are dependent on several factors including location, association and who they represent.
Beyond targeted and institutionalized humanitarian interventions, humanitarianism by the ordinary citizenry, or vernacular humanitarianism, is a defining feature of Ethiopia’s humanitarian action. Millions of internally displaced persons are living with and supported by the host communities with no meaningful support from international or national formal humanitarian organizations. Ordinary citizens often organize themselves around social media such as TikTok, Facebook and Instagram and were able to mobilize millions in support of victims of disasters. For example, ordinary Ethiopians informally organized on social media and did commendable work in averting the devastating consequences of drought in Borena in 2023, supported IDPs displaced from their homes due to political violence around Oromia-Somali borders in 2018 and supported millions of IDPs in Horro Guduru and East Wallagga zones while the institutionalized humanitarians were unable to intervene (during the first phase of the crisis) due to access difficulties. Ethiopian diasporas and business communities also participate in humanitarian action in the country. Apart from these few examples, ordinary Ethiopians are the backbone of the country’s humanitarian efforts and first responders to crises.
However, the contributions of local actors remain invisible, are not nurtured and there has been inadequate effort to genuinely strengthen their capacity. The dominant discourse has wrongly portrayed humanitarianism in Ethiopia as a monopoly field of international humanitarian actors belittling the local community’s effort to address their problems. The visibility of localized humanitarianism in Ethiopia has been overshadowed by the increased visibility of the ‘international humanitarian community’s’ response to crises. Likewise, despite the global movement and advocacy for accountability to affected communities, humanitarian practitioners we spoke to in Addis Ababa largely believed that the promises of localization have largely remained unfulfilled. The interviews that we conducted with humanitarian workers and independent observers revealed that humanitarian organizations were primarily preoccupied with service delivery rather than strengthening local capacity to transition to recovery and reconstruction. Thus, to make humanitarian efforts more predictable and effective, humanitarian actors should prioritize local initiatives to make the sector sustainable and least affected by external decisions. The recent policy changes in donor countries, spearheaded by the USAID suspension of foreign assistance, are a wake-up call for the country to strengthen its local humanitarian initiatives and advance and implement the humanitarian reform agenda in national and local contexts.
Mobilizing local actors and domestic resources
Mobilizing domestic resources can reduce the dependency on foreign countries overseas development and humanitarian aid policies. Local actors play a crucial role in filling the gaps created due to changes in the priorities and policies of donor countries. However, as local initiatives still lack targeted support, external donors finance a significant portion of formal humanitarian action, USAID being the major partner. Yet Ethiopia has recently started some venerable initiatives that could contribute to the country’s self-reliance in the long run. The country started a food sovereignty endeavour, dubbed by the Government of Ethiopia (GoE) as a ‘decisive path toward food self-sufficiency’. The initiative prioritizes investing in local innovations in agriculture and technology. The government planned to address food insecurity through funding by state-owned enterprises and large-scale farming coordinated by its national disaster risk management office, the Ministry of Agriculture and relevant regional offices. The country has also been implementing the Green Legacy Initiative to avert the negative impact of climate change. Similarly, the government has commenced other national initiatives, such as the Bounty of the Basket, which have a significant potential to strengthen local resilience and preparedness. The transitional justice and national dialogue mechanisms have also the potential to end or significantly reduce the humanitarian needs emanating from the devastating impacts of conflict or political violence. However, even though these initiatives have the potential, if appropriately implemented and subjected to rigorous accountability mechanisms, to minimize the impacts of climate change and end the need caused by conflict, they may not counterbalance the adverse impacts of the policy change in donor countries in the short term.
Conclusion and the way forward
Given the high level of need, it is tremendously challenging to respond to the current humanitarian crisis without support from the international community in general and USAID in particular. The theoretical rhetoric that regarded local actors as genuine partners with a meaningful role in leading and funding humanitarian responses has not yet been translated into practice. Affected communities are still considered passive recipients of aid by the majority of international humanitarian actors working in Ethiopia. The current initiatives by the GoE to satisfy humanitarian needs with local capacity are commendable and can change this narrative in the long run. Such initiatives need to show tangible progress on the ground. Ending conflicts with agreements and finding durable solutions for millions of IDPs currently stranded in various IDP shelters are some of the immediate measures that the government can take to relieve the pressure on humanitarian action in the country. Ensuring government efficiency and addressing rampant corruption that divert critical resources from the public are other measures that the government may immediately take to avert further crisis. Furthermore, local CSOs need to reassess their excessive reliance on international funding and devise innovative means to mobilize domestic resources, strengthen local giving and prioritize local innovations. The promises of localization remained unfulfilled. Donors and the INGOs currently operating in the country need to revisit their commitments to localization and hold themselves accountable for failing to honour the grand bargain’s promises.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the Authors:
Alemayehu B. HordofaAlemayehu B. Hordofa is a Ph.D. researcher at the International Institute of Social Studies (ISS), Erasmus University Rotterdam (EUR). He obtained his LLM in International Human Rights Law from the Irish Center for Human Rights (ICHR), University of Galway, Ireland. He is currently working on humanitarian governance in Ethiopia focusing on the role of Civil Society Organizations and Crisis-affected People to shape humanitarian governance ‘from below’. His research interests lie in forced displacement, accountability in humanitarian context, localization of humanitarian aid, transitional justice, and the development of CSOs in Ethiopia.
Marga Fekadu AngerasaMarga Fekadu Angerasa is a law lecturer at Wolkite University (Wolkite, Ethiopia) with research interest and specialty on human rights, forced displacement and transitional justice. He has an LLM in human rights law from Addis Ababa University (2021). Marga is a member of Ethiopia Humanitarian Observatory and advocates for the advancement of human rights and works with CSOs on human rights issues.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
This blog is part of the Humanitarian Governance: Accountability, Advocacy, Alternatives’ project. This project has received funding from the European Research Council (ERC) under the European Union’s Horizon 2020 research and innovation programme under grant agreement No. 884139
Digital spaces can amplify marginalized voices, but for many women, especially Dalit women in India, they often become sites of abuse. Navigating the intersection of gender, caste, and religion, Dalit women face systemic exclusion and violence, reinforced by both offline and online structures. While technology does not oppress all women equally, movements like #MeToo have helped Dalit women spotlight caste-based and patriarchal violence. In this blog, recent ISS MA graduates, Sri Lakshmi, and Emaediong Akpan explore how digital platforms both challenge and reinforce structural inequalities, revealing that technology is never neutral.
Image Credit: DALL-E
Dalit women in India
The Indian Hindu religious caste system (more than 3000 years old) has stratified Indian society into castes based on bloodline, occupation, and economic resources. The Brahmancaste and other ‘upper’ castes have capitalized on their social position to exercise superiority and control over the ‘lower castes’ and therefore sustains an exploitative system. At the other end of the scale, the Dalit caste is deemed to have been rejected by God and is therefore ‘outside’ the caste system. While India has made progress in several social aspects, the sturdy caste system continues to prevail based on religious authorization. The Brahman caste has subjugated women from their own caste as well as ‘lower’ castes to maintain ‘caste purity’. This modus operandi is manifested in intense oppression and gender-based violence towards the Dalit women. ‘In every sphere of life, they (Dalit women) are in a pitiable position, worse off than the upper caste women’due to the triple oppression exerted by men from their own caste and ‘upper castes’. The triple oppression here refers to casteism, patriarchy,and economic injustices that are manifested as gender-based violence, caste-based discrimination, and being limited to low-grade jobs that are poorly paid.
The Janus-faced nature of digital spaces in India: Reflections on the non-neutral nature of digital spaces
These spaces also act as a window into the broader Indian society, where norms and power interact to control individual actions. In navigating societal norms, digital spaces have been useful in helping Dalit women find community and access resources for mobilization. For example, Pallical, a Dalit rights activist, noted that ‘online space is refreshing and a space we never had earlier. There used to be limited regional media spaces, but we are now visible, and much of our anti-caste conversations are now happening on social media platforms’. For example, stories of how Dalit women were flogged and assaulted in public in the small city of Una led to government intervention only after it went viral on Twitter.
In this example, Twitter (and other digital spaces) served as a powerful public space for minorities and marginalized voices to circumvent traditional media; online, these actors could express opinions and opposition in a succinct format, as well as unite and organize swiftly in their capacity as ‘new social movements’. However, this is not the full picture. In these spaces, these marginalized groups are still unable to escape society and have been re-victimized in the spaces that also hold a ‘liberating’ potential’. This inability to ‘escape’ reality is why Wacjman states that technologies are not neutral; they do not exist outside of society but are a part of society. Within digital spaces, interactions are understood as performing gender roles that are deeply ingrained in society.
Former Twitter CEO Jack Dorsey and Activists holding a Poster: Source Nalina
This sparked controversy and threats of boycotts on Twitter, ultimately emboldening casteism by forcing an apology for the poster and image. Despite knowing the impact of the caste system, Twitter conformed to the social norms in Indian society by stating that the poster ‘did not represent Twitter’s official position’. Twitter also apologized for speaking out against marginalization and social injustice in order to avert the risk of losing the Indian market which boasts about 8 million Twitter users. This singular act amongst many others reflects how technology is both a source and consequence of marginalization; first because of how it relates with society and second as a consequence of marginalization by reinforcing it through ‘mindless apologies’.
Twitter’s Denial of Siding with Dalits; Source: Bapuji and Chrispa
Gendered access and use of technology in India: The #MeToo case study in India
The #MeToo movement was a viral online movement of raising voices against the sexual harassment of women. Many women came forward to share their experiences using the hashtag #MeToo on Twitter and other digital spaces.
The Indian #MeToo movement leaves the original ‘Me’ behind
The Indian #MeToo movement was started in 2017 by Raya Sarkar, a woman from the Dalit caste. She used the digital space of Facebook to expose sexual harassment as a form of gender-based violence by male professors in Indian universities by curating a List of Sexual Harassers in Academia (LoSHA). Sarkar was berated for posting such a ‘name and shame list’ in an attempt to re-enact the historical silencing and disregard for the testimonies of sexual violence against Dalit women in India. After this, the movement was taken over by mainstream activists, especially on Twitter and this diffused any remnant attention on the marginalization of women from the Dalit caste. While there were several personal testimonies on Twitter in which Indian women shared their experiences of sexual harassment, the testimonies of Dalit women were absent and scarcely featured in the debates that ensued. Hence, Twitter became a tool used to exclude the voices of the most oppressed who suffer on account of their class, race, and gender. In this way, Twitter reinforced the marginalization of Dalit women.
Technology as a source and consequence of gendered relations: Exclusion and discrediting of marginalized voices
As stated earlier, digital spaces have been instrumental in helping marginalized groups draw attention to social injustices. However, platforms like Twitter are generally unsupportive and even hostile toward women from the Dalit caste. Their marginalization on Twitter reflects these women’s reality by mirroring the existing caste network. It is unsettling to witness the casual and rarely-questioned oppression on Twitter faced by Dalit women. The oppression includes casteist slurs, disparaging comments on darker skin tones, and implicit insults on how women who are academically, professionally, and financially successful, or who have a fairer skin tone, are told that they don’t ‘look’ Dalit. Twitter has also provided the space for misogynists to target Dalit women without any consequences. This shows how technology (digital spaces) embolden and exacerbate existing gender inequalities and caste-based marginalization’ . Gender- and caste-based social dynamics and technology therefore connive to leave women from the Dalit caste behind on Twitter.
Conclusion
While there are numerous accounts of the benefits of social movements that have been organized in digital spaces, the realities are not the same for all, especially for marginalized groups. This lends credence to Whelan’s position that technology does not oppress all in the same way, nor does it necessarily oppress all women. In India, Dalit women, despite having gained access to digital spaces to draw attention to the injustice they face, are often faced with violence based on their gender and caste. Thus, although Twitter helped to break the culture of silence around sexual violence and draw attention to the injustices faced by Dalit women, it did not influence social relations to address the root causes. Rather, it emboldened these root causes and became a space where Dalit women continue to experience violence. People who wield more power (upper caste and those with more access) decide and shape technology by deciding what information is important or true.
Digital spaces are double-edged – they expose women and marginalized groups to harm, yet remain vital for organizing social movements. Recognizing the lack of neutrality of these spaces remains crucial, as offline systems of oppression are often mirrored and reinforced online. While legal frameworks can play a role in addressing digital harms, they alone cannot dismantle deeply entrenched caste and gender hierarchies. Instead, the focus must shift to challenging the power structures that shape technology itself. The experiences of Dalit women show that technology can be both a tool of oppression and resistance. Ensuring that digital platforms do not further marginalize vulnerable communities requires holding innovators and policymakers to higher ethical standards while amplifying the voices of those fighting for justice.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the authors:
Sri Lakshmi
Sri Lakshmi is a recent graduate of the Master’s in Development Studies program at the International Institute of Social Studies. With nine years of experience working with students, caregivers, educators, disability inclusion organizations, and government officials. Sri is passionate about fostering inclusive spaces, bridging the gap between education and social impact.
Emaediong Akpan
Emaediong Akpan is a recent graduate of the Master’s in Development Studies program at the International Institute of Social Studies. With extensive experience in the development sector, Emaediong Akpan’s work spans gender equity, social inclusion, and policy advocacy. She is also interested in exploring the intersections of law, technology, and feminist policy interventions to promote safer online environments. Read her blogs 1,2, 3
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
Gender inequality and the discrimination of sexual and gender minorities in Nigeria are often attributed to sociocultural norms and unfavourable state policies. However, reflecting on body politics reveals a deeper entanglement with state control, colonial legacies, and capitalism. Our bodies are not just personal, they are sites of regulation, commodification, and profit. From the exploitation of women in the corporate sector, often referred to as ‘corporate prostitution’, to the policing of gender nonconforming and the sexualisation of bodies in the creative industry, capitalism thrives on controlling and monetising bodies. In this blog, Eno-Obong Etetim reflects on these dynamics and highlights body politics activism in Nigeria, arguing that a decolonial lens is crucial for reclaiming bodily autonomy.
Gender inequality and the discrimination of sexual and gender minorities in Nigeria are often attributed to sociocultural norms and unfavourable state policies. However, my reflection on body politics reveals a deeper entanglement with state control, colonial legacies, and capitalism. Our bodies are not just personal, they are sites of regulation, commodification, and profit. From the regulation of the body by the state to the utilisation of certain bodies to drive profits, the body is a canvas for the expression of capitalism and state power. This commodification and socio-political regulation of human bodies encompasses what is termed ‘body politics’ and has birthed the need for activism to reclaim bodily autonomy.
I reflect on my evolving understanding of body politics and its intersection with capitalism through three illustrative examples: The commodification of women within the Nigerian banking sector – often referred to as ‘corporate prostitution’; The state’s regulation of sexual minorities and gender non-conforming individuals, and; The sexualisation of bodies within the creative industry. With these examples, I explore instances of body politics activism in Nigeria, ultimately concluding with how decoloniality serves as a relevant framework for conceptualising and fostering resistance.
Examples of Body Politics at Work
‘Corporate Prostitution’
The Nigerian banking sector has faced criticism for its gender-specific hiring practices, particularly in marketing roles. For these roles, women are often recruited based on certain physical characteristics, like height, slimness, and lighter skin tone. These traits are frequently perceived as advantageous for attracting high-net-worth clients, mostly men, to the bank’s customer base. This recruitment approach is grounded in the belief that female marketers can use their appearance to boost customer engagement and grow the bank’s clientele. Many financial institutions have been alleged to impose unrealistic sales targets on these marketers, with monthly quotas sometimes reaching millions of Naira. Reports suggest that management may advocate for morally ambiguous practices, evidenced by phrases like “do what you must [to bring in customers],” which could pressure women to utilise their physical appeal in questionable ways to meet these benchmarks. In turn, this trend of sexualising women in the workplace has led some male clients to expect sexual favors in exchange for financial services, such as opening accounts or depositing funds.The systemic focus on profit generation has shifted attention away from ethical considerations, linking career advancement directly to the ability to meet these aggressive targets. Employees who fail to meet these expectations face job insecurity or dismissal.
In response to this commodification of women’s bodies and the pressing need for reform, the Nigerian Senate introduced proposals for an anti-corporate prostitution and exploitation bill in 2010 and again in 2016. These legislative efforts aimed to address the intersection of gender, employment practices, and corporate responsibility within the financial sector.
LGBTIQ+ and State Control
Another significant aspect of body politics lies in how the state regulates sexuality. Harcourt, in her work, connects the discourse on body politics to Foucault’s idea of Biopolitics, which pertains to the socio-political control and regulation of life, often leading to the reinforcement of gendered identities. A closely related concept is Mbembe’s necropolitics, which discusses the sovereignty of the body, often manifesting as state threats to life and death. For instance, in Nigeria, the government enforces discrimination and threatens the lives of LGBTIQ+ individuals through the same-sex prohibition act, which criminalises all forms of same-sex relationships. This law serves as a clear illustration of body politics since it dictates how bodies must exist. The systematic control of bodies as a means to uphold state order has been the subject of academic discourses. According to Alexander the state normalises heterosexuality while condemning any sexual orientation that does not contribute to the reproduction of the nation. In this way, the state views bodies merely as sites for reproduction. By placing LGBTIQ+ rights within the context of capitalism and body politics, we can better understand that state regulation of sexuality is also tied to the need to maintain a future labor force. Historically, states have opposed non-traditional family structures because women’s bodies have been seen as essential for population growth. Furthermore, capitalism thrives on hierarchies and a gendered division of labor, but gender non-conforming individuals challenge these established roles and responsibilities. By reinforcing heterosexuality, the state seeks to secure future populations and, ultimately, the labour workforce.
Body Politics and the Creative Industry
The creative industry thrives on the sexualisation of women’s bodies. ‘Sex sells’ is a capitalist phrase utilised in the marketing and entertainment industry as a rationale to portray women’s bodies in an overtly sexualised manner under the guise of sexual liberation. Female talent and capacity for career advancement in the creative industry are measured not by artistic merit, but by whatever erotic heights the body can achieve.
Female artists are subjected to systemic pressures where their physical appearance significantly influences their career opportunities; for instance, actresses are overlooked for roles due to insufficient sexual appeal, and music videos often feature scantily dressed women as vixens, reinforcing a narrative that prioritises hyper-sexualised imagery. This trend reflects a capitalist agenda aimed at profit maximisation, where increased viewership translates into increased financial returns for both the artist and their management. One example is the music video for Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion’s WAP song – that featured five minutes of ‘twerking’ – which gained 26 million views, within 24 hours of its release, establishing the record for the most views in a day. This is no attempt to condemn the artists themselves but rather to buttress societal response to the hyper-sexualisation of women in contemporary media. The societal pressure to adhere to these narrowly defined body standards has consequently fostered a global market for cosmetic surgeries, with many women opting for surgical interventions to meet these expectations.
Body Politics Activism in Nigeria
Anti-corporate Prostitution and Exploitation Bill
In 2010 and 2016, members of the Nigerian Senate attempted to address the troubling commodification of female workers in commercial banks by proposing the Anti-Corporate Prostitution and Exploitation Bill. This legislation aimed to prevent employers from taking advantage of employees and compelling them to engage in ‘iniquitous’ acts that undermine their integrity for profit. While many hailed this bill as a positive step, it faced significant pushback from the banking sector and ultimately was not passed by the Senate. Activism may often fail but ‘succeed’ in creating the needed effort to spark public interest in certain issues and catalyse new forms of activism. Although the Anti-Corporate Prostitution Bill has yet to become law, it succeeded in raising awareness and inspired female-led organisations to push for anti-harassment legislation in workplaces and educational institutions within the Senate. One notable example is the anti-harassment bill in tertiary institutions.
Queer Activism
Same-sex unions [and relationships] are illegal in Nigeria, punishable with up to 14 years of imprisonment. This law not only targets same-sex relationships but also criminalises any support offered to individuals within this community. Despite these harsh restrictions, many individuals and organisations are actively fighting for the basic rights to life, health, and social services for queer individuals. Anti-capitalist queer activism in Nigeria has taken on various forms, including campaigns for reproductive justice and opposition to healthcare systems that prioritise profit over essential, life-saving medical care for gender non-conforming individuals, all while facing considerable state resistance. Additionally, efforts to promote inclusion in the workforce for queer individuals, improve representation in organisations and institutions, and advocate against workplace exploitation are all crucial components of body politics activism in the region.
Decoloniality as a Lens for Body Polities Activism
The categories in which we define ourselves – including our understanding of gender and sexuality – are rooted in Universalist perspectives and the “colonial matrix of power”. In her groundbreaking work, The Invention of Woman, Nigerian decolonial feminist scholar Oyéronké Oyewùmí explores how Western discourses have shifted the local socio-cultural understandings of pre-colonial Nigerian societies. She argues that the ongoing debate surrounding the gender binary is, in fact, an imported issue. Oyewùmí highlights how Western privileges tied to the visual perception of bodies created a gendered gaze that systematically categorised certain bodies, perpetuating a narrative of inferiority in comparison to the so-called ‘ideal’ of the white, civilised male. Similarly, Latin American feminist decolonial writer Maria Lugones elaborates on how colonialism has reproduced gendered identities. She contends that binary concepts of gender were used as tools of colonial control, undermining and invalidating the existing understandings of identity. These binaries have played a significant role in sustaining not only capitalism but also patriarchy, effectively serving the Eurocentric agenda aimed at population growth for labour reproduction. Positioning decoloniality in body politics activism requires delinking from Western ideologies of gender and humanness. Activists can benefit from situating their resistance in narratives that do not encourage or conform to Eurocentric and colonial dominant narratives. For instance, recent queer activism by Nigerians has been rooted in re-telling the stories of old Yoruba cosmology by relating its gender complexities and gender-fluid nature through anthropological research and modern art.
Conclusion
Body politics is the commodification and control of human bodies and experiences often through hegemonic power relations, and body politics resistance aims to challenge capitalist, colonial, and socio-political discourses that have shaped hegemonic perceptions of the body. If our bodies are sites that are transformed by hegemonic social relations and “hetero-patriarchal capitalism” we must sever from those ties and learn alternative ways of being, doing, and thinking. Body politics activism provides an opportunity to dispel colonial and hegemonic gendered behaviour that has resulted in the categorisation of women and gender non-conforming persons in the lower global pyramid of power.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the author:
Eno-obong Etetim
Eno-Obong Etetim is a researcher and recent graduate of the Master’s in Development Studies program at the International Institute of Social Studies. She has several years of experience working on projects focused on gender, health equity, sexual and reproductive rights, and social norms. Her research interests also extend to sustainability and policy interventions that promote social justice.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
The UN Refugee Convention contributes to asylum and migration-related challenges in the EU, as well as the often inadequate reception of refugees globally. In this Opinion piece, Tom De Veer explains how some adjustments to the Convention could remove a key flaw that currently exacerbates these issues. If adopted in other refugee laws, treaties, and conventions, this change could have enormous positive effects on refugees worldwide.
Image Credit: Wikicommons
The core of the UN Refugee Convention is the principle of non-refoulement, which prohibits sending refugees against their will to places where they face risk. As a result, countries cannot simply deport asylum seekers to another nation. This principle explains the difficulties the United Kingdom encountered in attempting to deport asylum seekers to Rwanda and the opposition from the EU to Italy’s attempts to house asylum seekers in Albania. These objections arise because institutions such as the European Convention on Human Rights (ECHR) do not consider the reception conditions in many countries to be sufficiently safe.
However, when refugees flee to a country, the non-refoulement principle is satisfied because they were not forced to go there. This applies to 85% of the world’s refugees — those who lack the financial means to travel to wealthy nations. Instead, they live in often deplorable and sometimes unsafe conditions in nearby, usually poor, countries in their region. Although the UN Refugee Convention recommends that countries unable to accommodate refugees adequately receive assistance from other nations, it does not mandate such aid. In practice, this often results in insufficient support. Meanwhile, asylum seekers who can afford the journey to a Western country receive all social security benefits and eventually often become citizens of the country. Without changes to the current system, this disparity will likely worsen, as reports from the UN and the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) predict that refugee flows will increase significantly in the coming decades due to climate change and related conflicts.
It is therefore critical to develop better refugee conventions and build a robust infrastructure for the reception, accommodation and resettlement of (climate) refugees worldwide. This can be achieved by removing the non-binding nature of the UN Refugee Convention. If a poor country cannot adequately fulfill its obligations to refugee rights, wealthier nations should be required to assist. With this system in place, regional reception centres can be established or existing ones improved, allowing asylum seekers to be relocated to nearby countries where they can receive proper care. Wealthy countries will have a strong incentive to fund these initiatives to prevent asylum seekers from arriving in their territories. Refugees will then be more likely to choose nearby reception locations in their region, knowing they will ultimately be resettled there anyway. This system will also eliminate the need for expensive, dangerous and often deadly journeys to the EU.
Furthermore, individuals who do not genuinely need to flee their homes but seek welfare in wealthy nations will no longer be able to do so. They will remain in their home countries, as they will know they will be sent to reception centres in their region, where their hopes for greater prosperity will not be realised. This system will ensure that those who truly need protection can seek refuge in nearby, safe locations and will enhance that those who don’t stay home.
The safety of asylum seekers can be ensured in various ways. One option is to deploy UN peacekeepers to protect such locations, as is done in some existing refugee camps. However, these peacekeeping missions will only succeed if peacekeepers are given a strong mandate, including the authority to use force to protect refugees if necessary. This will require cooperation from involved countries and the international community’s commitment to providing such mandates. Another approach could involve establishing reception centres in safe countries, with guarantees from host governments to ensure the safety of asylum seekers. Foundation Connect International has conducted an initial assessment of countries that may be suitable for hosting asylum seekers in different regions, using safety as a key criterion, based on the Global Peace Index. For example, countries like Zambia emerged as potential safe havens.
For this adaptation of the UN Refugee Convention to be effective, it must be embraced by other national and international refugee treaties, laws and conventions. The populations of the EU generally support such changes. In the Netherlands, for instance, a 2022 survey by Ipsos on behalf of Foundation Connect International showed strong public backing for the idea of properly accommodating asylum seekers in their regions. This was the preferred solution among nearly 70% of 3,000 Dutch citizens, largely regardless of their political views, with only 12% rejecting it.
In addition to regional reception, there is also a need to facilitate the return of refugees to their home countries once it is safe, and to address the root causes of migration, particularly poverty. Wealthy nations can assist by funding return programmes and making the proper reception of returnees a condition for aid and trade with the EU. As the cost of receiving asylum seekers in Western countries is, on average, 50 times higher than in poorer nations, a portion of the savings could fund these initiatives, as demonstrated by Foundation Connect International’s calculations.
By implementing these changes, wealthy countries would fulfil their responsibilities, supporting poorer nations in accommodating asylum seekers and accepting refugees from their own regions. As a result, refugees worldwide would be safely and properly accommodated in nearby countries. This would eliminate the current inequity where those with financial means can access safety in wealthy nations, while others are forced to survive in squalor in their regions.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the author
Mr. Tom de Veer is the director of the international NGO and consultancy bureau Foundation Connect International that specialises in water, sanitation and hygiene in developing countries. He also leads a lobby programme of Connect International that aims to mainstream cash transfers for life for people in developing countries in combination with reception of migrants in their regions to enhance support to all refugees worldwide and surrounding host populations.
t.deveer@connectinternational.nl
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
Nepali brides in South Korea are often portrayed as victims of violence, abuse, exploitation, slavery, and trafficking. But are these the only realities of Nepali brides? Nilima Rai in this article, challenges the dominant monolithic narrative of victimhood and sheds light on the other realities of these women – many of whom navigate such matrimonies with resilience, academic and professional achievements, and significant socioeconomic and cultural contributions in Korea and Nepal. Through patchwork ethnography, this article reveals Nepali brides’ overlooked agency, aspirations, achievements, and contributions beyond their image as victims.
‘They call us Bhote ko budi,1 someone with Pothi Visa,2 who didn’t find a suitable man to marry, the victims of domestic violence and abuse, and someone who is miserably sitting in a corner and crying over their ill fate,’ one of the Nepali brides said. This illustrates the racist, sexist, and negative remarks the Nepali brides encounter in their day-to-day lives. This article discusses how the dominant narrative of victimhood further reinforces stigmas and prejudices of Nepali brides.
Transnational marriage in South Korea: Nepali brides
Transnational marriage between Nepali brides and Korean men began in the early 1990s when Nepali migrant workers entered Korea through the Industrial Trainee System.3These brides, mainly belonging to socio-economically marginalised Tibeto-Burmese ethnic groups, are preferred4 due to their physical similarity to Korean people.
Nepali women participate in transnational marriage as an opportunity created by globalisation but with an expectation to fill the bride shortage vis-à-vis the ongoing crisis of social reproduction in South Korea. Like other foreign brides,5 Nepali brides make compromised choice of marrying foreign men and settling outside their country to escape poverty, attain upward mobility, or find access to labour markets that are otherwise denied to them.6 Conversely, Korean men7 rejected in the local marriage market due to their low socio-economic status and societal expectations of women seeking brides outside their racial/ethnic pool in countries such as China, Vietnam, the Philippines, Cambodia, Mongolia, and Nepal to name a few.
In Nepal, such marriages occur through commercial marriage brokers, mutual friends and relatives living and working in Korea. Since the early 2000s, Nepali women have entered transnational marriage through the marriage agencies/bureaus in Korea and Nepal.
The media’s victim narrative and its impact on Nepali brides
With the active involvement of the marriage brokers as matchmakers and the negative implications of such commercialised marriages, Nepali brides are often disparagingly depicted as ‘victims’ – the victims of trafficking, slavery, domestic violence, abuse, and deception. For more than a decade and even today, domestic and international news media have been replete with the sufferings of Nepali brides in Korea, portraying them as pitiful, bleak, wretched, sold, trafficked, and enslaved in Korean households. A rapid increase of unregulated marriage agencies in Nepal and Korea has resulted in increased numbers of fraudulent marriages engendering domestic violence and abuse of some of the Nepali brides. News media have widely reported cases of violence against Nepali brides along with their testimonies. Such efforts have highlighted the grave concerns of violence against those Nepali brides who experienced domestic violence and abuse. However, the paucity of research on the overall experiences of these brides, and the overwhelming representation of these women in media not only created their image as ‘women in peril’ and labelled them as ‘victims’ but also reinforced the already existing stigmas and prejudices against these women within the Nepali diaspora community in Korea.
These brides are subjected to gender-oppressive slurs by the Nepali diaspora community which sees them as ‘promiscuous’, ‘leftovers’, or someone who has a problem or is behaving strangely, thus ineligible to marry a man from their vicinity. The media’s tendency to depict Nepali brides merely as victims, the lack of research as well as the condescending attitudes of the Nepali diaspora community and the potential threat of oppressive slurs has often resulted in the silencing of Nepali brides.
‘Other Nepali brides in our community scolded me for allowing them to take my video and giving an interview to one of the media people,’ said one of the Nepali brides. This illustrates the negative implications of such narratives of Nepali brides fostering distrust and discontentment not only towards the media but also within the Nepali diaspora community. Some expressed their resentment through words, while others demonstrated it through their act of refusal, hesitation and constant need for reassurance that those approaching them were not affiliated with the media.
The realities of other Nepali brides
Narrating these women’s stories only through victimhood perspectives obscures the other realities of brides who claim to be empowered through economic gain, freedom of mobility and the acquisition of new knowledge and skills. These are the Nepali brides whose lived realities differ from those who suffer from violence and abuse.
‘Do we look like the victims of domestic violence or unhappy in our marital life, like how these journalists often portray us? Rather, I think I made the right decision getting married and coming here as I have more freedom to work, earn and live my life on my own terms,’ one of the Nepali brides said.
Similarly, another Nepali bride expressed her frustration, saying, ‘I am sick and tired of how these Nepali media represent us. A few years back, one of the journalists asked for our (her husband and her) photo, saying they wanted to cover the stories of Nepali brides. Still, in the end, they published our photo under the awful title and story that talked about how pitiful Nepali brides are. I am more than happy with my husband, who speaks fluent Nepali and actively contributes to Korean and Nepali literature and society. We both are hotel entrepreneurs. So, do you think my story fits into one of those stories published in the newspaper?’
Nepali bride with her husband tending their kitchen garden at Jeju-do, South Korea
The Nepali brides who were not victims of violence – and whose stories did not fit in with the articles published in news media – claimed to have made adjustments early on in their marriage, particularly in terms of language, food, and culture. They are now content with their familial relationships, have successfully established their professional careers, and are able to support their left-behind/natal families in Nepal.
These brides wish to be recognised as successful entrepreneurs, educators, nurses, police officers, poets, counsellors, interpreters, and promoters of Nepali culture, food, and language across the Nepali border. Instead of questioning their intentions in choosing a foreign spouse and vilifying them as ‘gold diggers’ – those who marry old Korean men for ‘card’/citizenship – and helpless victims of violence – who are beaten, battered, and abused by their husbands and in-laws – they want their achievements and contributions in both Korea and Nepal to be valued and acknowledged.
Furthermore, these women are often fluent in the Korean language and are pursuing/pursued further academic and professional endeavours in Korea; things they believe they could not have achieved in Nepal. Based on my research, Nepali migrant workers and students rely heavily on these brides to book public venues and bargain in local shops. They also rely on them for critical services such as translating/interpreting sensitive court cases and counselling in medical and mental health cases. Furthermore, these brides provide constant support and services as teachers and educators in schools, institutes, and migrant worker centres; provide health and safety orientations in factories and industries; act as counsellors to facilitate immigration procedures; work as nurses in hospitals, as police officers, established women’s shelters for migrant workers and provide all the necessary support in the rescue and repatriation of undocumented migrant workers.
Highlighting these women’s stories as achievers and contributors is not to trivialize the gravity of the issues related to violence against Nepali women/brides at all levels in and outside the country. The main aim of this article was to discuss the consequences of one-way narratives of victimhood that have negative implications on the lives of other Nepali brides who are happy with the positive outcome of their struggles in a foreign land. There is a need for in-depth research into the broader experiences of these women and for a multi-stakeholder dialogue and deliberation with state and non-state actors such as news media.
Endnotes
1. ‘Bhote’ is “a derogatory term for ethnically Tibetan people from northern Nepal (Gurung 2022, 1746). This kind of racial slur has been used against Nepali brides in Korea due to the resemblance or the similar physical features of Korean men with these ethnically Tibetan people.
Gurung, Phurwa.2023. ‘Governing caterpillar fungus: Participatory conservation as state-making, territorialization and dispossession in Dolpo, Nepal’ EPE: Nature and Space 6, No.3: 1745-1766.
2. In Nepal, the word ‘poth’” or ‘hen’ is a derogatory colloquial term often used as an oppressional slur that evinces male dominance or superiority over women (Lama and Buchy 2002).
Lama, Anupama and Marlene Buchy. 2002. ‘Gender, Class, Caste and Participation: The Case of Community Forestry in Nepal’ Indian Journal of Gender Studies 9, No.1: 27-41.
3. Before the Employment Permit System (2004), Korea systematised the inflow of migrant workers by introducing the Industrial Trainee System in 1991. Nepali migrant workers entered Korea through this trainee system. In 1990, 43,017 Nepali migrant workers were recorded in Korea.
Rai, Nilima, Arjun Kharel, and Sudeshna Thapa.2019. Labour Migration from Nepal-Factsheet: South Korea, Centre for the Study of Labour and Mobility and Foreign Employment Board, Nepal. https://archive.ceslam.org/fact-sheets/factsheet-south-korea
Based on my research findings, some Nepali brides were found to enter Korea through the trainee system in the early 1990s and later married Korean men.
4. Kim, Kyunghak, and Miranda De Dios. 2017. ‘Transnational Care for Left-Behind Family in Nepal with Particular Reference to Nepalese Married Migrant Women in Korea’ Global Diaspora and the Transnational Community: Migration and Culture.
5. Kim, Minjeong.2018. Elusive Belonging: Marriage Immigrants and ‘Multiculturalism’ in Rural South Korea. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press.
6. Based on the findings of the study.
7. Kim, Hansung, Sun Young Lee, and In Hee Choi. 2014. ‘Employment and Poverty Status of Female Marriage Immigrants in South Korea’ Asian and Pacific Migration Journal 23, No.2: 129-154.
This blog post is based on the empirical evidence collected from field research in South Korea and Nepal (2023-24) for my doctoral study.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the author
Nilima Rai is a Ph.D. candidate in Gender Studies at Queen’s University, Kingston, Ontario. Her research explores the lived realities of Nepali brides in South Korea. She holds master’s degrees in Development Studies from Erasmus University, the Netherlands, and in Conflict, Peace, and Development Studies from Tribhuvan University, Nepal, and the University of Ruhuna, Sri Lanka. Her interests include migration, marriage and labor mobility, social justice, women’s rights, and the intersections of conflict, disaster, and gender.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
Gender Studies worldwide confront the double whammy of the academic field’s persistent urgency amidst heightened risk for its scholars and students. As a result, there is a pressing need for collaboration and solidarity among scholars working in Gender Studies to safeguard academic freedom for high-quality research and education and strengthen advocacy efforts in the face of growing challenges. Four Gender Studies hubs in Pakistan, Turkey, and the Netherlands have started creating and using digital spaces for knowledge creation, exchange, and mutual support.
Persistent urgency of Gender Studies to further a gender equality agenda
Rooted in feminist activism of the late 1960s, Gender Studies uniquely integrates theory, vision, and action to examine the role of gender in society and resulting inequalities and power differences. The discipline remains highly relevant. Despite global policy commitments to gender equality – from the UN Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women (CEDAW) to the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) – gender-based violence and human rights violations as well as gender gaps in the economy and in decision-making positions persist.
In Pakistan, consistently ranked among the lowest in gender equality, the situation is dire. Gender-based violence, including abductions, (gang)rape, and domestic violence experienced by women, increased in 2023 compared to 2022. Transphobia has intensified, exemplified by the Federal Shariat Court’s declaring sections of the historic Transgender Persons (Protection of Rights) Act 2018 in violation of Islamic law, even as transgender persons face ongoing violence and discrimination. State repression, including obstruction of annual Aurat [women’s] marches on International Women’s Day, further undermines efforts for gender justice.
To tap the potential of Gender Studies to counter such gender-based discriminations and gaps, the discipline’s Northern bias poses a formidable obstacle. Gender Studies curricula are still dominated by theories grounded in the global North, despite the discipline’s emphasis on intersections with local contexts and histories that produce specific forms of gendered structures and inequalities in society. For students in global South contexts like Pakistan, this creates the impression of an academic discipline that is antagonistic to students’ culture, dismissive of their lived realities and struggles, making engagement difficult. Therefore, to implement gender equality agendas effectively, indigenous gender perspectives are crucial.
The Netherlands, known for its strong gender equality commitments, is not immune to the rise of anti-gender rights politics. As part of a major overhaul of the Dutch policy for development cooperation that significantly reduces support for international partners and orients it more towards Dutch interests, the Minister for Foreign Trade and Development Aid recently announced to end international funding for women’s rights and gender equality, threatening to halt progress in its commitment to pursuing a feminist foreign policy.
Countering anti-gender rights backlash through transnational digital collaboration in Gender Studies
Against the backdrop of persistent gender inequalities, Northern-centric theorising of gender and backlash against Gender Studies, we have started experimenting with transnational digital collaboration between the institutions in which we are based in Pakistan, Turkey, and the Netherlands. This approach offers an effective way to address these intertwined challenges to gender equality through context-sensitive engagement.
We believe that this initiative has the potential to transfer context-sensitive Gender Studies knowledge to a broader audience while modernising higher education institutes and enhancing curricular relevance. It also fosters transnational solidarity among scholars, providing a safe space to share work, address concerns, and collaboratively navigate challenges to gender equality in academia and beyond.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the authors:
Karin Astrid Siegmann works as an Associate Professor of Gender and Labour Economics at the International Institute of Social Studies of Erasmus University Rotterdam (ISS).
Saad Ali Khan is an Assistant Professor at the Centre for Excellence in Gender Studies at Quaid-i-Azam University Islamabad (CEGS) and a Visiting Fellow at the ISS.
Rabbia Aslam is an Assistant Professor at the CEGS. Her doctoral research investigated Gender Studies as an academic field in Pakistan.
Bilge Sahin works as an Assistant Professor in Conflict and Peace Studies at ISS where she incorporates gender perspectives into her teaching and research.
Alia Amirali is an Assistant Professor at the CEGS as well as a feminist organizer.
Selin Akyüz is an Associate Professor at TED University Ankara, specializing in gender studies, political masculinities, and feminist methodologies.
Aurangzaib Alizai holds the position of an Assistant Professor in the Gender and Development Studies Department at the University of Balochistan Quetta.
Tuğçe Çetinkaya is a PhD candidate in the Department of Sociology at Middle East Technical University Ankara where her doctoral research explores the gender and class dynamics of local environmental struggles.
Zuhal Yeşilyurt Gündüz is Professor and heads the Center for Gender Studies as well as the Political Science and International Relations Department at TED University in Ankara.
Muhib Kakar is an academic and researcher specialised in Gender Studies.
Amna Hafeez Mobeen is a lecturer and researcher at CEGS. She recently completed her doctoral dissertation at Pakistan’s National Institute of Pakistan Studies (NIPS).
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
The recent USAID funding freeze has left critical international development programmes in limbo, with devastating consequences for women and girls. The freeze is undoing decades of progress in gender-sensitive development work, putting at risk thousands of aid programmes that support women and thereby limiting the ability of frontline workers to serve their communities. The global development sector is now scrambling to find alternative funding and policy solutions to keep gender-focused initiatives alive.
In this interview, Plan International’s Director of Business Development Allison Shannon, and Vannette Tolbert, Senior Communications Manager, discussed the immediate and far-reaching impacts of this policy decision with Emaediong Akpan and Eno-Obong Etetim, recent MA graduates in Women and Gender Studies from the International Institute of Social Studies, both of whom were also impacted by the USAID stop work order. From disrupted education to increased vulnerability to child marriage, the freeze threatens essential services that protect and empower girls. Drawing on reflections from the interview, the authors explore the ongoing impact of the freeze and highlight the necessity for urgent action.
The recent USAID funding freeze has left critical international development programmes in limbo, with devastating consequences for women and girls. In this article, we explore the ongoing impact of the freeze while reflecting on our conversation with Plan International’s Director of Business Development, Allison Shannon, and Senior Communications Manager, Vannette Tolbert. As recent MA graduates in Women and Gender Studies from the International Institute of Social Studies. we examine how this freeze is undoing decades of progress in gender-sensitive development work, putting at risk thousands of aid programmes that support women and limiting the ability of frontline workers to serve their communities. We discuss how the freeze is disrupting education, increasing vulnerability to child marriage and threatening essential services that protect and empower girls while highlighting the urgent need for immediate action.
Pause, when do we ‘press play’?
‘Until we are all equal’ is the guiding ethos behind Plan International’s work across the globe. Yet, like many other organizations, this mission is currently threatened due to the recent USAID funding freeze. The suspension of funds has halted 13 programmes across 12 countries, disrupting essential services that support girls’ education, child protection and economic empowerment. These countries include Nepal, Ethiopia, Nigeria, Niger, Burkina Faso, Bangladesh, Cambodia, Philippines, Malawi, Egypt, Jordan, Mexico and Honduras. Notably, immediate consequences of this decision include the discontinuation of maternal healthcare services, leaving women without access to essential prenatal and reproductive health services; the interruption of educational opportunities for girls, increasing their vulnerability to early marriage and long-term economic hardship; and the disruption of gender-based violence prevention programmes, putting millions of women and girls at greater risk of violence. The impact is particularly severe for marginalized communities which have relied on USAID-funded initiatives as a crucial lifeline. Senior Communications Manager Vannette Tolbert says, ‘The freeze is not just pausing development efforts; it is actively dismantling critical support systems for women and girls worldwide.’
Plan International relies significantly on funding from the US Agency for International Development (USAID), which accounts for one-third of its overall budget. USAID has provided over US$54 million to support Plan’s programmes, funding essential initiatives that promote gender equality, prevent child marriage and ensure access to education for girls around the globe. The rationale behind the freeze centres on a reassessment of US foreign aid spending, yet its immediate impact is felt by the world’s most vulnerable populations. To put this in perspective, Tolbert states that US$38 million in grant funding across 13 contracts in 12 countries has been affected, while US$19.5 million in unspent funds remains frozen.
The ripple effects: How the freeze endangers girls and women
1. Education interrupted: The risk of reversing gains: In Nepal, for instance, Plan International’s remedial classeshave become critical in providing vital academic support to young girls like Ganga, an ambitious eighth-grader with dreams of becoming a teacher. These classes not only help reinforce her academic skills but also boost her confidence in a society where education for girls often takes a backseat. Without this essential assistance, hundreds of girls like Ganga face the grim possibility of failing their exams, which could lead to early marriage – a common reality for many girls from economically strained households in Nepal where educational opportunities are limited.
Beyond Nepal, in Nigeria’s conflict-affected regions, Plan International-supported non-formal learning centres serve as a haven for children displaced by violence. These centres create nurturing environments where children can access not only literacy and numeracy training but also crucial psychosocial support to help them cope with conflict-induced trauma. With the funding freeze now in effect, these vital safe spaces have shut down, leaving thousands of children, especially girls, without viable options for continued education and emotional well-being.
In Kenya, Plan International’s community-driven approach has been essential in improving education for girls. Through their GirlEngage project, Plan listens to the specific needs of girls and their communities, ensuring that solutions are both relevant and sustainable. When high absenteeism rates were reported in schools, Plan engaged with communities and identified the need for menstrual products and safe hygiene spaces. In response, they constructed washrooms and latrines to address this gap. As a result, absenteeism rates dropped significantly and graduation rates skyrocketed. However, with the recent funding freeze, these vital initiatives are now at risk and threaten to reverse years of progress in education and gender equality, leaving long-lasting consequences for the affected communities
Increase in child marriage
In numerous communities, girls are seen as ‘economic assets’, and financial hardship often leads to early marriages. As Tolbert notes, ‘…families can’t afford to support many children, so the girls are sent off at very young ages, often as a financial transaction’. Community-driven initiatives, supported by organizations like Plan International, have been crucial in delaying child marriages by educating families and fostering behavioural change. ‘These programmes not only fund services – they reshape mindsets, empower allies and drive lasting social change’. However, the funding freeze risks reversing this progress, as many families may turn back to traditional survival strategies, including marrying off their daughters to ease financial strain. Without timely intervention, the significant gains made in preventing child marriage could be undone.
This is evident in the case of community leaders, key opinion leaders and allies who were beginning to challenge harmful traditions but will now face reduced support, slowing progress toward gender equality. For instance, the role of fathers in challenging gender norms and advocating for their daughters’ well-being could experience significant setbacks. Many fathers, often referred to as Girl Dads, have been actively engaged in initiatives promoting girls’ education and ending child marriage. The case of Yusuf in Indonesia, who re-evaluated his decision to marry off his daughter after participating in a Plan International anti-child marriage and girls’ education awareness session, exemplifies the tangible influence of such efforts. With one in nine Indonesian girls still married before the age of 18, the withdrawal of funding may lead to a reduction in interventions and an increase in child marriages.
Similarly, in Uganda, where Plan International collaborates with activists like Peter, who combats child marriage in a context where 34% of girls marry before reaching adulthood, the potential loss of USAID funding could impede progress in altering detrimental cultural norms. The situation is further exacerbated by the fact that USAID represents Uganda’s largest single donor for health aid. The funding freeze jeopardizes essential health services, including maternal care and HIV/AIDS treatment, which are vital to the well-being of hundreds of thousands of Ugandans.
Economic disempowerment and vulnerability
Economic empowerment programmes, particularly for women and girls, are another casualty of the funding freeze. Plan International has supported childcare centres at industrial parks in Ethiopia. The centres allow women to access to childcare at the site of their work, enabling them to gain income and skills through working while supporting Ethiopia’s industrial development. These initiatives have been instrumental in equipping women to make informed decisions about their futures. Now, with funding paused, the sustainability of these programmes is uncertain, leaving women without critical support systems and increasing their economic vulnerability.
4. Humanitarian assistance: From bad to worse
Perishable food and medical supplies for over 100,000 displaced families are stranded in warehouses, putting lives at risk. Plan International’s US$7.8 million Bureau of Humanitarian Assistance project in Ethiopia supports 58,000 displaced people with healthcare and 56,000 with food aid. The freeze has stranded supplies, endangering lives and preventing critical aid delivery.
Hana, a single mother working in an Ethiopian industrial park relied on USAID-funded childcare and mental health support to maintain employment. The freeze now leaves her struggling to find affordable childcare and manage work, threatening her family’s financial stability.
Mulu, a 28-year-old single mother working at Hawassa Industrial Park, relied on the USAID-funded Early Childhood Care and Development Centre for childcare while she worked. The sudden closure of the centre due to funding cuts left her struggling to keep her job while caring for her daughter. Missing work days to find alternative childcare has put her employment at risk, threatening her family’s financial stability and future.
This withdrawal has left communities, local partners and even governments questioning the reliability of international aid commitments, while organizations like Plan International, which have spent years cultivating relationships and fostering development through a bottom-up approach, now face the daunting task of re-establishing credibility.
Beyond the freeze: The big picture
As USAID funding stalls, other global players are stepping in to fill the gap, leading to significant geopolitical shifts. This shift is not just about financial assistance, it signifies a broader change in global influence and the loss of USAID’s presence in these communities. As authors, we are inclined to question the impact of US soft power in these communities. While it has been seen as a tool for fostering influence and cooperation, it also prompts us to reconsider whether this form of aid truly benefits the communities it targets or whether it perpetuates dependency. The resulting shift in the international development landscape could have lasting effects, altering the dynamics of both aid distribution and global power structures.
In response to the crisis, organizations are seeking diversified funding sources. Corporate partnerships, such as Plan International’s collaboration with private partnerships to support menstrual hygiene education, upskill young people and amplify the voices of women, present potential alternatives. However, corporate social responsibility (CSR) initiatives are not a monolith, and many smaller NGOs lack the resources to pivot swiftly. Without immediate policy intervention, these organizations face closure, leaving gaps that private donors alone cannot fill.
Reflections on the aid freeze: Colonial legacies, Global South reactivity
As women from the Global South with extensive expertise in implementing USAID-funded initiatives in Nigeria, we have been actively engaged in research, policy advocacy and programme implementation focused on addressing gender inequality and systemic exclusion. Our work has encompassed gender-responsive legislative advocacy, stakeholder engagement and the design of intersectional health interventions alongside violence-prevention strategies. Through these initiatives, we have gained insights into how international development funding influences opportunities for women and girls in fragile contexts.
Our perspective is shaped by a critical lens that highlights the structural dependencies inherent in international aid systems. While USAID funding has historically facilitated advancements in health, education access, economic empowerment, and protective services, the recent abrupt suspension of these funds exposes the vulnerability of relying on external financing for sustainable gender justice initiatives. This new reality necessitates not only an analysis of the immediate ramifications but also a comprehensive reflection on the inherent drawbacks of donor-dependent funding models.
Our collaborations with local organizations and policymakers in Nigeria have illuminated the disproportionate impact of funding disruptions on grassroots movements, many of which lack alternative resources to sustain their advocacy efforts. The freeze not only impedes service delivery, it also undermines the authority of local actors, who navigate intricate socio-political landscapes to foster gender-transformative change. This erosion of trust in partnerships raises critical ethical considerations regarding the long-term viability of externally funded programmes and the need for decolonial approaches to global development.
As researchers and practitioners, we perceive the USAID funding freeze as a crisis that highlights the dissonance between global aid policies and localized strategies for achieving gender justice. Addressing this situation requires a shift from immediate funding appeals to a thorough interrogation of power dynamics within development frameworks, prioritizing the voices of marginalized communities in shaping funding agendas, and ensuring that gender-focused interventions are genuinely community-led and resilient to geopolitical shifts. However, we acknowledge that moving away from aid dependency and reframing funding mechanisms for aid-dependent countries is a complex process that must consider the enduring effects of colonization in these regions.
As policymakers deliberate, the stakes for women and girls in vulnerable communities hang in the balance. Consequently, urgent advocacy is needed to push for resolutions that prioritize continuity in development efforts while rethinking our approaches to these initiatives. For those with decision-making influence, the message is unequivocal: restore funding, rebuild trust and reaffirm commitments to gender equality and global development. The costs of inaction are simply too significant to ignore.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the authors:
Emaediong Akpan
Emaediong Akpan is a legal practitioner. She recently graduated from the Master’s in Development Studies program at the International Institute of Social Studies. With extensive experience in the development sector, Emaediong Akpan’s work spans gender equity, social inclusion, and policy advocacy. She is also interested in exploring the intersections of law, technology, and feminist policy interventions to promote safer online environments. Read her blogs here.
Eno-obong Etetim
Eno-Obong Etetim is a researcher and recent graduate of the Master’s in Development Studies program at the International Institute of Social Studies. She has several years of experience working on projects focused on gender, health equity, sexual and reproductive rights, and social norms. Her research interests also extend to sustainability and policy interventions that promote social justice.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
Over fifty years later, the Nigerian Civil War, a pivotal conflict in the nation’s history, continues to influence contemporary discourse. The recent publication of A Journey in Service by former military Head of State General Ibrahim Babangida has reignited discussions on the war’s legacy and its enduring impact. In this Blog, ISS recent MA graduate, Emaediong Akpan explores the Civil War’s complexities, peacebuilding efforts, and the relevance of time in these processes. She highlights how historical narratives shape current realities and the lessons they offer for the future.
Nigerian Civil War: Causes, Participants, and Casualties
The Nigerian Civil War was a violent conflict between Nigeria, led by General Yakubu Gowon, and the secessionist Republic of Biafra, led by Lt. Colonel Odumegwu Ojukwu (Late). The war ensued after the breakdown of the Aburi accord, which was designed to promote inclusive governance, leading the Igbos to lose faith in the possibility of existing together as a nation.
The war lasted about 30 months and resulted in the death of approximately two million civilians. There are several accounts of the Nigerian civil war. These accounts often have ethnic, political, and colonial undertones in their presentation of the root causes, the judgment of its outcomes, and the peacebuilding efforts. However, it is important to note that the root causes of the war are numerous. It begins with a colonial history that forced diverse nations with distinct cultures, languages, and identities into a single entity known as Nigeria.
Relevant political causes of the war include the coup on July 15, 1966, which resulted in the deaths of several northern leaders. This event fostered the perception of ethnic motives behind the coup, leading to widespread violence, looting, and a mass exodus of Igbos back to the south.
In the aftermath, Aguiyi Ironsi, the new military leader and an Igbo man, was overthrown and assassinated in another coup led by northern military officers. This coup further exacerbated the ongoing ethnic tensions in Nigeria, as the northern and southeastern regions clashed over power and representation. Ironsi’s removal marked a significant shift in leadership, replacing him with Lieut. Col. (later Gen) Yakubu Gowon, a northerner.
The Relationship Between Time and Peacebuilding
a. The Role of Time in Lasting Peace
In building peace, there is often an expectation for warring parties to negotiate and leave the past behind. Even the Bible says, “do not remember the former things, nor consider the things of old” (Isaiah 43:18). However, peace scholar John Paul Lederach argues that sustainable peace requires acknowledging historical grievances
For those who experienced conflict firsthand, history remains influential in shaping perspectives and interactions. If peace initiatives fail to account for these lived experiences and address root causes, peace remains fragile and susceptible to renewed tensions. The post-war experience of the Igbos illustrates this dynamic; economic hardship, loss of property, and exclusion from federal positions created lasting grievances that were not adequately addressed.
b. There is No Prescription for Peace
Usually, people impose their own ideas of peace on others. In navigating the transition from crisis to a peaceful future, it is crucial to avoid essentialist views, allowing for creativity and acceptance that post-conflict, ‘peace’ may not be easily achieved. Recognizing and acknowledging the experiences of others opens opportunities to imagine a future together. The future is deeply intertwined with the past, forming a continuum where individuals remain connected to their experiences. Agonistic peace becomes relevant here because it fosters non-essentialist perspectives that unlock the creativity needed to imagine the future. It provides space for differences and resistance, holding transformative power.
However, a fixation on uniformity can hinder the healing process, driving a hasty disregard for differences in favor of assimilation. This ultimately ignores basic human needs and sets the stage for disaster. In Nigeria’s case, post-civil war peacebuilding prioritized national unity over addressing structural inequalities. This approach framed the preservation of “One Nigeria” as the primary goal, sidelining discussions of marginalization. The persistence of groups advocating for Biafra today reflects these lingering divisions.
Analysis of Time and Peacebuilding in the Nigerian Civil War
i. Gowon’s Reconciliation vs. Igbo Realities
Following the war, Lieut. Col. (later Gen) Yakubu Gowon introduced a policy of Reconciliation, Reconstruction, and Rehabilitation, ‘forgiving’ the secessionist state, assuming this approach would foster national cohesion. For Gowon, it was natural for peace to follow war, and forgiveness was key to achieving that. However, for the Igbos, peace was not a straightforward transition after war, and ‘forgiveness’ was not as significant to them. They believed that forgiveness was not Nigeria’s to grant; it belonged to them. Genuine forgiveness would require confronting historical events such as the forced amalgamation of Nigeria, coups, mass murders, and the disregard for the Aburi accord. Gowon’s actions thus led to a clash between immediate demands and historical narratives.
Post-war, Gowon focused on restoring the country’s unity, implying that the war’s aim was to preserve territorial integrity. The slogan during the war was, “to keep Nigeria one, is a task that must be done,” reinforcing the idea that Nigeria exemplifies a successful colonial legacy. Instead of fostering genuine peace, the policies adopted were more about maintaining a singular national narrative.
Governments often misunderstand the critical role of time in peacebuilding, focusing solely on the present without considering historical narratives. Gowon’s limited understanding of time caused him to concentrate on the most recent manifestation of conflict which was the civil war while ignoring the longstanding tensions that led to it.
ii. Nigeria Must Be One: Dictating Peace for Others
Violence does not occur in isolation; it is deeply embedded in broader power dynamics. This reality makes agonistic peace appealing, as it fosters the necessary objectivity for conflict transformation. Such transformation enables us to reimagine ‘enemies’ as opponents and ‘antagonism’ as difference, embracing resistance.
The enduring song, “Ojukwu wanted to separate Nigeria, But Gowon said Nigeria must be one…” which I learnt as a child echoes this sentiment and reinforces the belief that the Nigerian civil war was a “just war”. However, it also highlights the failure of Nigerian leaders to recognize that there was a time when the Igbos existed separately. It appears as if the leaders had forgotten this reality, leading to a forced unity.
The historical context I have provided illustrates how political actions transcend time and shape the future. Gowon’s prioritization of political stability over addressing historical grievances has fueled ongoing “structural dimensions of violence,” including the marginalization of Igbos and others aligned with Biafra long after the war ended. This prioritization creates a peace narrative that Mbembe describes as the ‘mutation of war’ that perpetuates violence even after conflict resolution.
In Nigeria, peacebuilding was coerced, and anyone or group who opposed the re-assimilation of all ethnic groups faced criminalization.
Conclusion: Reflections on Transformation
Peacebuilding is a commitment to the future, one that requires a reflective understanding of the past as its foundation. For the Igbos, the civil war is not just history; it is an enduring narrative that continues to shape their identity and lived experiences. Lt. Colonel Ojukwu and Biafra live on through the stories passed down to their children. The dominant narratives of the Nigerian civil war often overlooks the rich history of the Igbos, threatening their existence as a distinct community. To ensure their experiences are recognized, the stories of resilience, survival, and suffering must be told from their own perspective.
I acknowledge that these narratives may not guarantee peace, but it is a crucial step toward understanding the roots of conflict and transforming perceptions of enemies into opportunities for dialogue. A truly inclusive approach is essential for fostering reconciliation. This approach must embrace diverse narratives to address the historical complexities that continue to challenge national unity in Nigeria.
As long as Nigeria’s peacebuilding efforts remain primarily state-driven, these challenges will persist. A more inclusive framework, one that directly engages affected communities and meaningfully acknowledges historical grievances, may offer a more sustainable path forward.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the author:
Emaediong Akpan
Emaediong Akpan is a legal practitioner, called to the Nigerian Bar in 2015. She recently graduated from the MA programme Development Studies with a specialization in Women and Gender Studies at the International Institute of Social Studies, Erasmus University Rotterdam. Read her blogs here
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
“It’s only when the tide goes down, thatwe can see who was swimming naked”. But the cruel irony of climate change is this: the water may never recede. The way to swim the high tide is by wearing clothes adapted to the new climate, as the PhD researcher, Luciana dos Santos Duarte, talked about at UN COP29.
Photo Credit: Beka Pratov
As the world reaches the critical threshold of 1.5°C global warming, the impacts of climate change are becoming harder to ignore. With over 8 billion people on Earth, our consumption habits are transforming the planet in irreversible ways. The fashion industry, notorious for its fast-paced cycles and environmental toll, has expanded at an unprecedented rate. Ultra-fast fashion brands like Shein have outpaced giants like Zara, rapidly producing trendy garments at a fraction of the cost. The fashion sector now accounts for an estimated 10% of global carbon emissions, underscoring its contribution to the climate crisis.
Fashion’s response to the climate crisis
Part of the fashion industry has acknowledged its role in the climate crisis by setting carbon reduction targets and exploring sustainable practices. Brands like Patagonia lead with initiatives like the Fashion Pact, a coalition committed to climate goals and aligning with the Paris Agreement. Patagonia’s Worn Wear programme promotes a circular economy by repairing and recycling items and by using recycled materials like fishing nets and plastic bottles to reduce waste. These efforts signal a shift towards a just transition in the fashion and textile sector.
What Artificial Intelligence has to say about fashion
When we asked ChatGPT about the future trends for sustainable fashion in a climate-stricken world, it identified key themes for the industry to explore:
Sustainable materials;
Circular fashion;
Second-hand;
Local production;
Biodegradable;
Minimalism;
Technology integration;
Fashion activism;
Ethical practices.
However, AI does not tell us how to adapt to disasters and catastrophes such as floods and heatwaves.
Adaptation to climate change
While these so-called trends are progressive, they lack creative insights and solutions to adapt to climate change. Governments and climate researchers are bracing themselves for a possible scenario where global temperatures rise by over 3°C. The Brazilian government, for example, is already preparing for this possibility. This reality signals the need for adaptation strategies, not just mitigation efforts. To survive in a world marked by extreme temperatures and frequent natural disasters, the fashion industry must go beyond reducing emissions. The question we face is: what will we wear to endure this new, harsher climate?
Tenfashion trends to adapt to climate change
1.Becoming nocturnal
As global temperatures rise, daytime activity in many regions may become untenable due to extreme heat. Cities might shift to a predominantly nocturnal rhythm, with daily life occurring after sunset. Fashion would adapt by prioritizing reflective clothing to enhance visibility and safety in low-light conditions. Breathable, lightweight fabrics would dominate, ensuring comfort in humid or warm nighttime environments while maintaining practicality and style.
2. Personal survival kits Clothing may incorporate built-in survival kits, integrating essential items like compact water pouches, first-aid supplies and emergency tools. This innovation reflects the growing demand for functional gear that addresses real-world challenges. Garments might include discrete compartments or modular attachments, ensuring utility without sacrificing aesthetics. As climate events like floods, wildfires and storms grow more frequent, such features could become a standard for preparedness.
3. Specialized coatings in textile engineering
Advancements in textile engineering are opening new possibilities for resilience against extreme conditions. Fabrics treated with specialized coatings could resist heat, UV radiation and water, providing wearers with enhanced protection. Such innovations may not only improve comfort but also extend the lifespan of garments, reducing waste and promoting sustainability.
4. Heat-resistant materials
Designers are developing heat-resistant materials to withstand intense sunlight and high temperatures, addressing the challenges of rising global temperatures.
5. Green surface design and nature integration
Eco-friendly fashion is evolving to harmonize with natural systems. Light-coloured, reflective fabrics can reduce heat absorption, keeping wearers cooler in direct sunlight. Incorporating biophilic designs– patterns inspired by nature – into urban fashion fosters a sense of connection to the environment. These elements not only offer practical benefits but also encourage sustainable practices in design and consumption.
6. Frugality and multi-purpose designs
In response to resource scarcity, fashion is embracing multifunctionality. Garments that transform based on weather conditions, such as coats that convert to rain capes or jackets with detachable linings, are gaining popularity. These designs cater to practicality while emphasizing minimalism, reducing the need forand excessive wardrobe.
7. Revisiting forgotten patents
The fashion industry is rediscovering innovations from the past to solve modern challenges. Concepts like solar-powered clothing and electric-heated garments, once sidelined, are regaining attention. These older patents are being adapted with contemporary materials and technology to align with the needs of a changing climate.
8. Gamification of e-commerce
Digital fashion is reshaping e-commerce with gamified experiences. Non-fungible tokens (NFTs) and augmented reality enable interactive, customizable collections, reducing physical production and waste while engaging tech-savvy consumers. Gamified experiences make sustainable practices more appealing and accessible, by selling a digital product-experience.
9. Micro-Earth living
‘Micro-Earth’ wardrobes focus on compact, modular designs that adapt to various climates and activities, promoting a low-impact lifestyle. They are inspired by the micro-environments we can control at home, such as terrariums, since we feel powerless to deal with climate change.
10. Escape to Mars: Aesthetic and technological escape
Space-inspired fashion offers innovation but risks distracting from urgent earthly issues. While futuristic designs inspire creativity, they must also align with sustainability to address the real challenges of climate resilience.
The relentless tide may not recede, but it forces us to confront what we have built – and what we can salvage. In this shifting landscape, adaptation is no longer a choice; it’s a necessity. From garments designed to withstand extreme weather to digital fashion reducing physical waste, innovation is emerging as both a survival tool and a creative outlet. These solutions remind us that even in a crisis there is room for reinvention. What we wear in this new world will reflect more than style; it will reflect our determination to endure and thrive, even as the tides of change continue to rise.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the Authors
Luciana Duarte
Luciana dos Santos Duarte
United Nations Observer at the UN Climate Change Conference COP. Product Designer, Lecturer of Industrial Design Engineering at The Hague University of Applied Sciences, double-degree PhD researcher in Development Studies at the International Institute of Social Studies (Erasmus University Rotterdam) and in Production Engineering (Federal University of Minas Gerais, Brazil). Founder of Amazonia Design
Tanishkar Majukar
Tanishka Majukar
BSc Industrial Design Engineering student at The Hague University of Applied Sciences, Public Relations and Social Media Assistant at Amazonia Design, Press Team for MUN at the International School of the Hague.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
Recent graduates aspiring to enter the global governance and development field often face pressure to meet the sector’s demands, yet universities typically fall short in preparing them for these real-world challenges. A research project conducted by The Hague University of Applied Sciences (THUAS) and The Hague Humanity Hub (THHH) bridges that gap by exploring and training critical soft skills overlooked in academic settings. In this blog, Sylvia I. Bergh, Carina Herlo, Emma Wedner, and Sue Friend share their insights from this project.
As we approach the 10th anniversary of the adoption of the Sustainable Development Goals (in September 2025), the clock is ticking: we have just five years left to achieve these ambitious targets by 2030. It’s more relevant than ever to reflect on whether the current and next generation of professionals are being taught the skills needed to navigate the next years and contribute to solving the challenges faced by the global governance and development sector.
The increasingly competitive global governance job market, shaped by budget cuts to the aid, development and CSO sectors, has made it clear that young professionals need more than technical or academic expertise to succeed. The ‘Achieving the Sustainable Development Goals: Providing the Skills Needed for Future Global Governance Professionals in The Hague’ research-action project aimed to address this challenge. Referring to the Inner Development Goals (IDG) framework, the project identified the essential soft skills that academic programmes often overlook, such as curiosity, systems thinking and intercultural communication, bridging the gap between academic knowledge and the demands of a rapidly evolving sector.
Bridging the gap between academic learning and real-world application
The research phase of the project involved conducting interviews with 21 professionals from global governance and development organizations across The Hague, including HR officers, monitoring and evaluation experts and professionals actively engaged in SDG-related projects. The interviews revealed that the key soft skills required for success in this field include curiosity, strategic and contextual as well as systems thinking, flexibility/adaptability to political and cultural contexts, effective communication in diverse environments and proactiveness. Despite their importance, many interviewees reported that these soft skills were not always adequately present in the entry level professionals they hire or work with, implying that they are not sufficiently developed in academic programmes.
Building on these findings, the project developed a series of workshops intended to test whether the previously mentioned soft skills can be effectively trained. The ‘EmpowerSDGs Skills Training’ hosted at THHH between May and June 2024, consisted of five workshops that targeted skills like curiosity-driven working, systems thinking, contextual understanding and intercultural communication. The 20 participants (selected out of 90 applicants) developed these skills through practical tasks such as creating causal loop diagrams and theory of change maps, with feedback provided by trainers. Participants were encouraged to create a professional portfolio in which to include these practical assignments, alongside reviewed and updated CVs and motivation letters. These portfolios were intended to enhance participants’ job search prospects by showcasing their soft skills and ability to think critically about global challenges and practical implications in the portfolio.
One unique aspect of the programme was the inclusion of ‘Handshake’ career conversations with professionals from the THHH community. These conversations provided participants with valuable networking opportunities, real-world perspectives and advice on working in the global governance and development sector. As one participant shared: ‘The Hub’s involvement effectively bridged the gap between our academic learning and real-world application, enhancing the practical aspects of the programme and providing a tangible connection to the professional world we aspire to enter. Many of the handshakes were with people who are members of the Hub. It was inspiring to see how career-diverse and high-achieving many of the Hub’s members are.’
The evaluation and feedback from participants was largely positive. Many reported greater confidence in applying and demonstrating their soft skills, while others, especially those with more experience, noted minimal change. The programme seemed to be most beneficial to early-career professionals who were still developing their skills and professional portfolios. One participant remarked: ‘I liked the fact that we did multiple tests of personality and communication style and then, through practical application, we saw how each type becomes evident through group work. It really made me realize that each person brings their own strengths to the table and how important it is to recognize and cherish the differences between people, instead of looking for teammates who are similar to me.’ This was underlined by another participant: ‘Understanding different personality types and how they influence team dynamics is crucial for personal and professional development. It helped me recognize the importance of knowing my own values and how these can affect my functionality within a team.’
While it’s easier to claim proficiency in soft skills during an interview, the real challenge lies in conveying these competencies effectively in a CV or motivation letter. Listing traits like curiosity or adaptability may not suffice, as employers are increasingly looking for concrete examples of these skills in action.
The Empower SDG skills training programme directly addressed this issue by guiding participants on how to translate soft skills into tangible, real-world examples through CVs and motivation letters. One participant noted, ‘The discussions on how to articulate my impact have given me a new perspective on presenting my achievements. This knowledge will be invaluable not just for job applications, but also for networking, interviews and future career advancement.’ Feedback from participants revealed that the workshops helped them develop confidence in presenting their skills in ways that resonate with employers, enhancing their job search prospects. However, as we reflect on these insights, a pressing question remains: How can universities better adapt to the needs of the sector by adequately preparing graduates in terms of professional soft skills development and by supporting them in their job search?
Conclusion
In order to meet the global governance and development sector’s future challenges, the need for young professionals who possess both academic expertise and essential soft skills will only grow. The next step lies in expanding the availability of, and integrating, such training opportunities into higher education, ensuring that graduates are not only aware of the skills required but are also equipped to effectively communicate and apply them in their careers. Potential employers also have a responsibility here by increasing the availability of (paid!) internships. Without such concrete steps, the disconnect between what universities teach and what employers seek will only deepen, leaving many talented individuals struggling to showcase and develop their full potential.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the Authors:
Carina Herlo
Carina has experience working with youth-led organizations in peacebuilding, using communications, storytelling and advocacy to create meaningful change. She is passionate about gender, peace, security and migration and holds a master’s degree in International Security from the University of Groningen. Carina participated in the EmpowerSDG training programme.
Sylvia I. Bergh
Sylvia I. Bergh is Associate Professor in Development Management and Governance at the International Institute of Social Studies (ISS), Erasmus University Rotterdam (EUR), and Senior researcher at the Centre of Expertise on Global and Inclusive Learning and the Research Group on Multilevel Regulation at The Hague University of Applied Sciences (THUAS). She would like to build on the EmpowerSDG project by researching the relevance of the Inner Development Goals and helping students and recent graduates find jobs in the international development and peace and justice sector.
Emma Wedner
Emma is a Junior Programme Manager at the Hague Humanity Hub, where she focuses on talent development projects for young professionals with aspirations to work in sustainable development, peace & justice. She is also active in the Council of Europe, working towards better conditions for youth in Europe.
Sue Friend
Sue is currently a master’s student in Intelligence and National Security at Leiden University. She holds a bachelor’s degree in Political Science and has a keen interest in intelligence analysis, focusing on how data-driven insights can enhance national security strategies and inform policy decisions. Sue also participated in the EmpowerSDGs training programme.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
In this blog, ISS Professor of Humanitarian Studies Thea Hilhorst highlights the banning of UNRWA by the Israeli government. UNRWA is not only an aid provider, within Gaza it provides many functions that the state might take care of in other countries, from medical provision to education. The Israeli government’s reasoning for banning UNRWA are based on false pretenses, and providing the vitally needed humanitarian aid now that a ceasefire has been reached will only become more complex if UNRWA stops its vital work.
No longer than a week after a ceasefire was reached in Gaza, UNRWA was forced to stop its work in the territory. This is creating yet another complexity in the already difficult task of providing vital humanitarian assistance to Gazans. If Israel is serious about its promise to provide more humanitarian help to Gaza, its first and most important task should be to put off or cancel its plan to withhold cooperation, communication, and facilitation from UNRWA, including forcing its offices to close and staff to leave the country.
UNRWA, it should be remembered, it part of the UN, and has had the responsibility of providing assistance for Palestinians since 1949. Moreover, in Gaza the operation functions similarly to the state in other countries. Until the beginning of the most recent war, Israel controlled Gaza but did not govern it (aside from militarily). Hamas’ political wing took over the various institutions of state in Gaza (in 2006), but Israel and several large international donors and countries refused to work with it as they consider it a terrorist organization. UNRWA took responsibility for a large number of state services, including healthcare coordination, education, and infrastructure repair. Since the start of the recent war, UNRWA has been an essential keystone part in the coordination of humanitarian aid deliveries to Gaza.
A majority of the Israeli parliament, the Knesset, voted to ban UNRWA at the end of October 2024, deciding to remove UNRWA’s operating rights in Israel and Israeli-held territory – effectively meaning it can no longer operate at all. One of the arguments for the vote to ban UNRWA was its ties with Hamas, which do exist to the extent that Hamas is the most major political force in Gaza and so must be collaborated with to work in the territory. A well-publicised report stemming from research into UNRWA by the former French Minister for International Affairs, Tanya Colonna, added to several other reports confirming UNRWA’s overall neutrality.
When it was made known that some UNRWA staff were involved in the Hamas-led attacks on Israeli civilians on 7 October 2023, the workers were immediately dismissed and UNRWA’s various regulations to ensure neutrality were further sharpened. Indeed, UNRWA couldn’t have predicted that its staff might take part in such attacks, not least because UNRWA staff are screened by the Israeli security services before they are allowed to begin their work.
From the proceedings of the debate in the Knesset, it would seem that lots of Israeli lawmakers take issue with UNRWA because it often speaks out over the right of return for Palestinians displaced in 1948-9, and therefore feeds the idea of Palestinian victimhood. The Israeli politicians also held that UNRWA registers the children of refugees as refugees, therefore systematically increasing the numbers of displaced people. In reality, this isn’t the decision of UNRWA: children of refugees that do not receive any nationality in their birth land are always registered as refugees, otherwise they would have no official identity. These rights (to identity) are codified in international law. Every organization that might replace UNRWA would have to do the same.
Following the ceasefire, humanitarian assistance should finally be delivered to Gaza. Medical services also need life support, and fast: the vast majority of hospitals across Gaza are now bombed out: part
of the over 70% of all buildings in Gaza that have been damaged by the war. Without UNRWA, this task becomes near-impossible, and whilst other organisations will fill the gap as best they can, they estimate that it will take up to 3 years to fulfil the now-empty space that UNRWA had.
In the previous decades, and during various wars in Gaza, UNRWA has organized and maintained education, medical services, and provisions for families in need. To pull the plug now flies in the face of the stated aim to ‘flood Gaza with aid’. It would, for Gazans, be incredibly helpful for Israel to put off or cancel the banning of UNRWA.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the Author:
Thea Hilhorst
Dorothea Hilhorst is professor of Humanitarian Studies at the International Institute of Social Studies of Erasmus University.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
In this blog, Munzoul Assal, Professor at the universities of Khartoum and Bergen, and Scholar at risk the Chr Michelsen Institute provides an in-depth discussion of the long-term crisis and instability facing Sudan. He argues that in order to reach a better outcome for Sudanese people, we must look beyond the numbers and immediate outcomes of various atrocities and concentrate too on their origins. This contribution was given as a reflection upon the first Annual IHSA Lecture that took place in Bergen, Norway, in May 2024, and is part of a series around the theme ‘War and Humanity’.
Credit: Unsplash
A deeply divided country across multiple lines
Sudan has gone through decades of civil wars and political instability. Wars of competing visions have developed into wars of attrition. Wars are first fought in people’s minds before being taken to the physical battlegrounds. For decades, Sudan has suffered from an identity crisis, which to me is the root cause of wars in the country. There are of course triggering factors, and uneven development is one of them.
Divisions such as Arabs versus Africans, Christians versus Muslims, ‘Patriotists’ versus ’Traitors’, etc. have dominated political discourse in post-independence Sudan. The different ruling elites, military and civilian alike, pursued policies of “unity in conformity” instead of “unity in diversity”. It has been held that the Sudanese should conform to an Arab and Muslim identity when in fact the country is quite diverse in terms of religion, ethnicity, climate, and livelihoods systems! Persons deemed not conforming to Arab and Muslim identity are alienated or discriminated against in different ways in public institutions or at best considered outliers. Media institutions, too, do not reflect the rich diversity characteristic of Sudan.
As early as the mid-1950s, people in the South, Eastern Sudan, and Darfur raised objections to the state’s policies that marginalize peripheral areas. The first war started in 1955, one year before independence, and continued for 17 years. It was ended by the Addis Ababa Agreement in 1972 and there was relative peace for 10 years. War started again in 1983 and before it was put to an end by the Comprehensive Peace Agreement signed in 2005 between the government and Southern Sudanese rebels, war then started in Darfur. And the rest is history. But not quite so!
Competing narratives to frame the current conflict
It does not make a lot of sense to talk about death and destruction in Sudan as results of the current war that has been raging for over a year and a half. That is what wars are about anyway. Since the start of the conflict between the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) and the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) in April 2023, about 11.7 million people have been forcibly displaced within Sudan and to neighboring countries. In Khartoum alone, 61,000 persons were killed. The total number across the country is 150,000. Death, displacement, and destruction of infrastructure should alert us to look beyond these numbers. Wars have their own histories that need to be narrated.
When this current devastating war started in April 2023, the Sudanese society had already been divided along ethnic, regional, and religious-ideological; in addition to political divisions that cut across other divisions. Competing narratives are used to describe the current war, such as:
This is a war between two armies: the RSF reneged on its commitments and wanted to seize power unconstitutionally,
This is a war between a regular army and a militia,
This is a war between those who want to see Sudan transition to democracy and those who want dictatorship,
This is a war between Western Sudan and Riverine Sudan,
This is an external invasion supported by the UAE,
This is a war orchestrated by the Islamists who used Sudan Armed Forces to get back to power,
Social and conventional media are the platforms in which these competing narratives are debated. Heated exchanges between political antagonists take place in these platforms leading to the prevalence of hate speech. The widespread looting and killings carried out by the RSF, and the indiscriminate bombing carried out by SAF, plus ethnic targeting and profiling undertaken by SAF’s military intelligence and security services compound the dire humanitarian situation and deepen interethnic hostilities.
Linking competing narratives to historical conflict
The discourse that portrays the war as conflict between Western Sudan and the rest of the country is entwined with middle class predilection of linking the current war to the Mahadist period (1881-1898) that witnessed widespread atrocities in central Sudan. This narrative ethnicizes the war and emphasizes divisions fed by post-independence political failures including uneven development, discrimination, and marginalization of peripheral areas in Sudan, like Darfur, South Kordofan, and the Blue Nile. These areas are currently active war zones and witness deteriorating humanitarian conditions.
It is ironic that the most vocal segments of the Sudanese society (the privileged, educated middle class who have access to media outlets and the international community) about atrocities and the worsening humanitarian situation are the same people who contribute to the reproduction of violence through hate speech, calling for the elimination of foes, and resisting calls for stopping the war. Yet, there are those who are working hard to confront this dire situation. In fact, the humanitarian discourse although prevalent in the Global North’s media is developed in places like Sudan. For instance, much of what comes in the media is provided by first responders and emergency rooms that cater for the immediate need of victims in the war zone. It is important to look at the situation beyond numbers. Addressing the factors behind atrocities is no less important that tackling their consequences.
The deepening humanitarian situation makes everybody suspicious about everybody else. Neighbors do not trust each other, and people accuse each other of being snitches. When SAF recaptures an area from the RSF, it arrests, tortures, and kills those accused of being collaborators with the RSF. The targeting is on ethnic basis. When the RSF occupies an area, it targets those allegedly collaborating with SAF or Islamists loyal to the former regime of President Omer El-Bashir. These types of atrocities do not find their way to the media because revealing them would defeat the narratives of those behind them. Again, these acts widen ethnic cracks and contribute to worsening humanitarian conditions.
From humanity’s perspective, the top priority is to save lives and serve survivors of atrocities. This is work that must continue, but saving lives can be realized better by contributing to addressing the causes of atrocities, and not only by counting the dead. For Sudan, the tragic situation is not dealt with candidly at the present time. There is reporting about the deteriorating humanitarian situation, but the talk about numbers, relief, and justice sweeps the issue of societal rifts under the rug. Perhaps something needs to be done here and now to uncover these rifts and their impacts.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the Author
Munzoul Assal
Munzoul Assal is professor of social anthropology at the universities of Khartoum and Bergen, and a scholar at risk at the Chr Michelsen Institute. His research areas include migration and refugee studies, conflict and peace building and citizenship. He is an honorary fellow of the Royal Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
Development aid minister Reinette Klever is slashing the budget for NGOs. For the period 2026-2030, she is reducing the budget from 1.4 billion euros to around 0.4 billion euros, a 70 per cent cut. Thea Hilhorst, professor of Humanitarian Studies at ISS, fears major consequences, including for the Netherlands itself. “Do we want to live behind high walls with snipers to protect our own prosperity?” In this blog Manon Dillen shares excerpts of this interview with Hilhorst.
What was your first reaction when you heard about this cut?
“Unfortunately, I wasn’t surprised; it was to be expected, since it had already been announced in the General Agreement. What I found particularly painful at the time was how little response it generated. At the presentation of the General Agreement, all the attention was focused on migration, asylum and Minister Faber. Things were relatively quiet on development cooperation, even though a PVV minister was appointed there too, one who had previously indicated that she wanted to abolish development aid. Development cooperation as a political domain has apparently disappeared from people’s field of view.”
Photo Credit: Bas van Der Schot
What impact will this decision have globally?
“The impact will be huge, both in the Netherlands and internationally. Global effects are hard to measure directly. It’s not as simple as ‘The Netherlands stops and deaths happen immediately’, but it will create holes in NGO programmes, such as Oxfam, Pax, you name it. They will have a better picture and be able to demonstrate concretely what the damage will be, and what it will mean for people in the countries where they operate.
“As well as the NGOs’ programmes, these cuts will also have an impact on relationships. When you destroy those, the consequences are not always immediately visible, but they are there. For example, in the form of deteriorating economic relations or reduced goodwill to do things for each other.”
Can you give an example?
“Well, the cabinet thinks migration is super important, right? When dealing with migration, it’s important to negotiate with the countries the migrants come from. If you only focus on conversations about migration without maintaining broader relationships, it becomes much more difficult. Say the Netherlands is in the running to win a big order. It’s more likely to get it if the relationship is embedded in a broader narrative. An ambassador could give a nice speech about what the Netherlands is all about. But if you strip back those international relationships too much, then other countries would no longer have an incentive to award that order to the Netherlands. So it could hurt economic relations. But it might also be about something smaller: suppose a Dutch citizen is imprisoned somewhere. Without good relationships, it’s harder to get them released.”
So this government is harming itself on the migration issue?
“Yes, there’s a link between migration and development cooperation, but it’s not clear-cut. For example, countries will be less inclined to meet the Netherlands halfway in a migration deal if we no longer do anything for them.
“It was thought that development cooperation would slow down migration to Europe. But research shows a mixed picture: a slightly higher standard of living can also mean that people actually want to migrate. If people become more educated or have more money, they see more opportunities abroad. This kind of research is difficult because people rarely migrate for purely economic reasons; conflict, weak governance and other factors often play a role.
“At the same time, it’s clear that a lack of aid increases migration flows. When refugees find themselves in a precarious situation in their region, they’re forced to travel further to seek safety. While we’re not sure what the effects of aid on migration are, we do know that people will migrate if they don’t get any aid at all.”
What direct impact will the cuts have in the Netherlands?
“International commitments, such as contributions to the UN, cannot simply be cancelled. So what’s left? NGOs. Support to NGOs is being cut disproportionately. But it’s being wrapped up in a narrative that NGOs are inefficient, which is simply not true. If the government doesn’t want to spend money on NGOs, they should just say so, instead of telling a misleading story about these organisations not being effective. That’s very damaging.”
Why exactly is it so damaging?
“By suggesting that NGOs operate inefficiently, the minister is undermining civil society. Meanwhile, support for development organisations is actually huge, and that shouldn’t be underestimated. If civil society is undermined, it could come at the cost of supporting development, and the Netherlands would become an inward-looking country. That’s a dangerous development for a small country in a big world.”
Is that support really that high? I didn’t see it reflected in voting behaviour in the recent elections.
“If people voted on this issue alone, the political landscape would look very different. NGOs have huge numbers of supporters. Someone at Oxfam Novib told me that they alone have more donors than the membership of all political parties combined! We’re really engaged with the world. We see this in primary schools, and in the willingness to take action for Giro 555, for example. The Netherlands can be proud of that, and it’s very important to hold on to.”
Isn’t development aid a neo-colonial way of imposing our Western ideals? And in that light, perhaps it’s not such a bad thing to spend less money on it?
“It’s not like the Netherlands goes to a country and says ‘knock off the LGBTQ discrimination’. It’s often linked to international agreements to which the countries we work with have independently committed. These are topics that organisations in those countries are already working on, otherwise there would be no fertile ground for discussions.
“It’s also important to embed the theme in a wider web of relationships. If you only harped on about LGBTQ rights or gender equality, you might offend people. You have to address those themes with care. Assisting with cultural change is very nuanced and complex and you can indeed go wrong quickly. But doing nothing anymore is also not a solution. We owe it to these countries to at least do something.”
What do you mean by that?
“Poverty in some countries is linked to our wealth, both historically through colonial ties and through current economic structures. We bear responsibility for that. This becomes even more evident with climate change: countries like Bangladesh are hit hard, with millions of people losing their homes or land to floods, even though they contributed little to the causes. These are people who have never been on an airplane, who do not have a washing machine and eat little meat because they can’t afford it. But they’re the direct victims of climate change. And that climate change is caused by rich countries – by us. Structural, equitable solutions to social inequality and climate change are needed. That takes time. Until those solutions are in place, development cooperation remains crucial.”
The minister argues that NGOs should be better able to fend for themselves. What’s your view?
“Surely we don’t fund NGOs for the sake of the organisations’ survival, or because it makes Dutch people feel good? We fund them because these organisations do good things for target groups that we as a country consider important. That may interest this government less. If so, they should say so explicitly. Right now, I get the feeling that some sort of lightning rods have been put up, diverting attention to the idea that NGOs are inefficient or lack support. Whereas it should be about what we want to achieve with development cooperation, and what kind of budget we need for that.”
What do you think about this government choosing to cut development cooperation in the first place?
“The Netherlands should comply with international agreements. The norm is to spend 0.7 per cent of gross national product on development cooperation. With these cuts, we’re sinking far below that. At the same time, we’re committing to the NATO standard of 2 per cent on defence. That’s a choice.”
In the Letter to Parliament, the minister stated that she wants to focus on three themes: health, women’s rights and fair trade. What do you think of these themes?
“They’re not bad, but there are things missing. Why is there no focus on water management, when the Netherlands has so much to offer in that area? And where is climate adaptation, a theme that is crucial right now?
“I’m also worried about humanitarian aid, even though the minister says she’s setting aside money for that. Globally, there’s too little aid available. This is partly because international humanitarian law, which obliges countries to protect civilians and allow aid through in times of conflict, is being structurally violated. A glaring example is Israel blocking aid to Gaza, with few international consequences. Or Sudan, where entire refugee camps are being massacred.
“The erosion of development cooperation has direct consequences for humanitarian aid. Without investment in agriculture and irrigation, drought leads to hunger, which in turn means more humanitarian aid is needed. But humanitarian aid is meant for emergencies, not as a permanent solution. Recovery requires stable facilities such as local hospitals. And stable health care depends on regular aid.”
Photo Credit: Bas van Der Schot
What do you think this cut means for the future of Dutch development cooperation?
“If you break down institutions, you can’t easily rebuild them. We need to keep institutions on their feet as much as we can. That’s obviously what NGOs are trying to do. Not one of them is throwing in the towel. Instead of just hoping for better times, we must work for better times.
“Human rights and international humanitarian law were established after World War II to prevent a repetition of the atrocities of that war. Values such as human rights, conflict prevention and peace efforts are crucial here. If the Netherlands abandons them, which is what is happening with these cuts, we are contributing to a global trend of allowing more conflict and inequality. Do we want to live behind high walls with snipers to protect our own prosperity, or do we want to build a future based on mutual respect? We need to recognise that we depend on each other. They depend on us, but we also depend on them.”
Dorothea Hilhorst is Professor of Humanitarian Aid and Reconstruction at the International Institute of Social Studies of Erasmus University Rotterdam.
Manon Dillen
Manon Dillen has a background in economics and philosophy at the Erasmus University in Rotterdam. After graduating she started working as a freelance journalist.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
In this blog, Sr. Medhin Tesfay, Director of Social and Development programmes at the Daughters of Charity Tigray (DoC-T), shares her experiences alongside that of her organization in providing solidarity-based locally embedded humanitarian assistance throughout the course of the most intense period of the conflict in Tigray from 2020-2022. During this period DoC-T had to adopt many of its approaches and services, providing programmes including emergency relief aid, psycho-social support for victims of gender-based violence in the conflict, and more besides. Sr. Tesfay is a member of the Humanitarian Observatory Ethiopia, which is hosted by the University of Addis Ababa in collaboration with ISS as part of the Humanitarian Governance: Accountability, Advocacy, Alternatives (HUM-GOV) project.
Sr. Medhin Tesfay, helping elderly and disabled individuals reach the emergency cash distribution desk during the conflict.
Amidst the prolonged humanitarian crisis and huge internal displacement in Tigray, the DoC-T adopted a community-centered approach to humanitarian aid. With the solid believe that affected population needs both hardware (in terms of food and non-food provision of assistance) and software (in terms of empowerment) supports, DOC-T has been providing impactful and innovative mental health support to empower vulnerable communities to heal, rebuild, and claim their rights. This journey demonstrates the strength of resilience, dignity, and local leadership in overcoming adversity.
Since 1973, the DoC-T have been committed to supporting vulnerable communities, particularly during the catastrophic famine of 1984-1985 and the intense conflict between 2020 and 2022. Our focus has always been on delivering targeted assistance to women, children, the elderly, and persons with disabilities. Throughout these critical periods, the DoC-T have consistently provided essential services, especially during the two years of the conflict in Tigray. DoC-T has worked relentlessly to deliver emergency cash assistance, life-saving food, vital non-food items, and necessary psychosocial support to the traumatized individuals in our communities. We have done this with a strong sense of purpose, humility, love, and empathy. This blog underscores our significant contributions during these trying times and reaffirms our steadfast dedication to creating a lasting positive impact.
From 2020 to 2022, Tigray region faced significant consequences from a prolonged conflict, compounded by one of the longest humanitarian crisis in recorded history. During this tumultuous period, DoC-T played a crucial role in delivering life-saving assistance, especially in the early days of the crisis when Mekelle (the capital of Tigray) became a refuge for many internally displaced persons (IDPs). This demonstrate the resilience of locally rooted and embedded organizations to provide vital supports to the vulnerable segments of the society when the humanitarian space is filled with insecurities and uncertainties.
While other humanitarian organizations were still arriving, DoC-T provided daily emergency support across 27 IDP camps, feeding over 34,000 IDPs for nearly eight months, often risking the safety of its employees. The organization also helped in remote and hard-to-reach areas of Tigray inaccessible to major international humanitarian agencies. The organization confronted dire conditions caused by disruptions in essential services and identified public schools that had been converted into makeshift shelters, mobilizing resources to address critical shortages of food, water, and clothing effectively. All the while DOC-T was also stuck providing all what it could, which was not even close to how much was needed. At times when there was no food, sisters and staff even went on foot on journeys that took 4 hours daily (visiting two times a day) to just to be with the community and console them.
Despite the closure of borders amid a devastating two-year conflict, the DoC-T, led by Sister Medhin Tesfay, made the decision to remain in the region with the community. This religious order was believed to be the only one operating in the area during the early days of the war.
Moving from emergency relief to offering psychosocial support
In response to the difficulties faced by women during the conflict, the Daughters of Charity offered not only emergency food assistance but also psychosocial support for those traumatized by the conflict’s horrific consequences. This psychosocial support was delivered through Women-to-Women Listening Circles, which included a nurse, a social worker, a medical student, an aid worker, and a leader from the Daughters of Charity. We drew inspiration from the Helpful Active Listening (HAL) circles, a grassroots initiative that effectively supported survivors of the Rwandan genocide. This straightforward and cost-efficient approach trains resilient women within the community to provide basic psychosocial support to their peers, enabling quick outreach to those in need. The method has successfully empowered and healed hundreds while also addressing the stigma surrounding sexual violence and fostering solidarity among victims. This impact is captured in the phrase: “breaking down the stigma and taboo surrounding sexual violence and promoting the creation of new links of solidarity between victims.”
The service has enabled survivors of gender-based violence (GBV), who once experienced deep shame and found it difficult to communicate with their children, parents, or spouses, to overcome shame and become advocates for marginalized individuals facing stigma. In the Bora district, these survivors have formed their own group and gained recognition and vital support from the local authorities. Haftu Gebru, head of the Bora District Education and Health Office, emphasized their transformation from passive victims to proactive advocates tackling the root causes of GBV showcasing the agency of the victims to advocate for solutions.
In these difficult times, the DoC-T achieved remarkable progress, but we were not in this endeavor alone. We were fortunate to receive essential assistance from numerous donors, particularly CARITAS Germany, which has dedicated considerable resources to enhance the lives of individuals in Tigray, especially in the Abergele district, which has been severely impacted by conflict and disasters.
As a valued long-term partner, CARITAS Germany has played a crucial role in the rehabilitation of specific schools and health centers, as well as repair of water points severely damaged by conflict. These initiatives have significantly reduced student dropouts, improved access to education, and ensured the availability of clean water, thereby safeguarding the community against waterborne diseases.
Lessons Learned and the Necessity to Support Local and Contextualized Intervention
The biggest lesson we learned was that with a bit more effort, it is possible to create formidable advocates in every intervention effort that can help to ensure the sustainability of the intervention by creating lasting community ties that can pass down experiences and create a structure for others to follow.
The DoC-T have been aimed to be a symbol of hope in Tigray during challenging times. We hope that our initiatives in healthcare, food security, education, and community support have positively impacted lives and fostered resilience. However, the ongoing violence and the situation faced by internally displaced persons (IDPs) have created a dire need for urgent, coordinated emergency and development responses. We urge a collaborative effort to tackle the humanitarian crisis in Tigray, leveraging our extensive experience in assisting marginalized communities in challenging circumstances.
The HUM-GOV Project is supported by a European Research Council (ERC) advanced grant, under project number: 884139
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question
About the Author
Sr. Medhin Tesfay
Sr. Medhin Tesfay is a Director of Social and Development programmes of DoC Tigray, Ethiopia. She is committed to empowering marginalized communitiess by improving access to essential services and fostering sustainable development which earned her the 2023 Romero International Award offered by Trocaire during their 50th anniversary for her courageous advocacy for justice.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
Travelling with children is more complex than travelling alone. It is also more expensive. Yet the impact of children on migration decision-making – and the dilemmas faced by parents and caregivers on the world’s major migration routes – are poorly understood.
In this blog, Chloe Sydney draws upon recent survey data to share initial insights into how parents and caregivers make decisions about migration when children are accompanying them on their journey.
Photo Credit: PACES
Surveying migrant decision-making
Between March and October 2024, the Mixed Migration Centre (MMC) surveyed 1,557 people on the move in Italy, Niger, and Tunisia for PACES, a 40-month Horizon Europe project that aims to understand migration decision-making and thereby also inform migration policymaking (1). Among people surveyed, 11.5% were travelling with children(2).
A gendered and geographical distribution
Women surveyed were nearly four times more likely than men to travel with children, with 24% of women travelling with children compared to just 6.5% of men – and their migration decision-making accordingly constrained.
Geographically, the percentage of respondents travelling with children drops progressively along the route: 16% in Niger, 10% in Tunisia, and just 8% in Italy(3). As can be observed on MMC’s 4Mi Interactive, a similar trend emerges when broadening the scope beyond PACES to all data collected in the three countries. This may be because parents and caregivers are wary of exposing children to the significant risks found in the Sahara, Libya, and the Mediterranean Sea.
How the risks inform the route
Recommendations and past experiences of family or friends were the most common factor informing choice of route for all respondents. For those travelling with children, safety and familiarity also played an important role in informing decision-making: as illustrated below, those travelling with children were somewhat more likely than others to prioritize safety (30% compared to 26%) and to choose routes they knew best (36% compared to 27%).
However, cost matters too, especially since travelling with children makes things more expensive. ‘My journey here with my children has not been easy at all, I had to spend a lot of money between Benin and Niger’, shared a Togolese father. In the face of limited resources, 35% of those travelling with children chose their route at least partly because it was the cheapest option, compared to 26% of other respondents. Conversely, parents and caregivers travelling with children were less likely to prioritize the fastest route, possibly because faster routes tend to be more expensive.
If the cheapest route involves greater risks, parents and caregivers face a difficult dilemma. Should you expose your children to danger in the hope of finding safety? In the words of British poet Warsan Shire,
you have to understand, that no one puts their children in a boat unless the water is safer than the land […]
Keeping safe en route
In the absence of safe alternatives, parents and caregivers take steps to mitigate the risks. As shown below, to protect themselves from crime and abuse, people travelling with children were more likely to travel in a group (58%), stop in places with trusted contacts (42%), and use safer methods of transport (36%). These precautions aim to reduce risks related to crime and abuse, but may also increase the cost of travel.
Despite efforts to protect children from harm, over two-thirds (68%) of respondents travelling with children felt children had been highly or very highly exposed to serious risks such as physical violence, sexual violence, kidnapping or death during the journey.
‘I cannot encourage anyone to take this route, because I lost my daughter during the journey, and I miscarried as a result of the pressure’, shared a Nigerian woman in Tunisia. ‘If you want to go, you should leave your children at home’, warned a father who saw his daughter being raped on their journey from Chad to Tunisia.
Where to go and whether to stay
Just as travelling with children can influence the route taken and the means of travel, it also influences decision-making with regards to choice of destination.
Reflecting parents’ and caregivers’ safety concerns, among those who specified a destination, over half (54%) of respondents travelling with children said they chose it at least partly because it was the safest option(4). This was the case for just 44% of those not travelling with children.
Perhaps to provide for their families, people travelling with children were more likely to mention their choice of destination was influenced by economic opportunities, at 80%. They were also more likely to mention the social welfare system, at 41%. Access to better education mattered somewhat more to them as well, as shown in the figure below.
Finally, travelling with children impacts whether and why people might one day return to their countries of origin. Those travelling with children were more likely to say they would return only if they believed it was safe (26% compared to 18% for other respondents). ‘The security situation is much better here than in our country of origin’, explained a man from northeast Nigeria, surveyed in Niger.
What we’ve learned
Among the people we interviewed, the presence of children impacts migration decision-making. Those travelling with children more often prioritise safety when selecting a destination, deciding whether to return, or to a certain extent when choosing a route. However, as travel becomes more expensive, costs also play a more important role in decision-making, potentially forcing some families to forsake safer, costlier routes in favour of more affordable, perilous journeys.
Our data also highlights the risks faced by children on the move, and their resulting need for specialised protection services. ‘My daughter has suffered many injustices on this route, she will be forever traumatised’, said a mother from Tigray in Ethiopia. ‘She has seen things beyond her years.’ Those who embark on dangerous journeys with their children, however, often have few alternatives: opportunities for safe, regular migration from Tigray, for example, are limited, even though the region is beset by high levels of food insecurity, limited access to essential services including education, and continued political instability.
Endnotes:
1. Since we rely on non-probability sampling, our findings cannot be generalized to all people on the move. Our baseline data collection will be complemented by two rounds of longitudinal data collection, enabling us to examine decisions to stay and migrate over the course of a year and a half.
2. One respondent refused to say whether they were travelling with children.
3. The proportion of women surveyed remains relatively stable across the three countries, so this does not explain the drop in respondents travelling with children.
4. 177 respondents travelling with children and 1,344 of other respondents had specified a destination.
Funded by the European Union. Views and opinions expressed are those of the authors only and do not necessarily reflect those of the European Union. Neither the European Union nor the granting authority can be held responsible for them.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the author
Chloe Sydney
Chloe Sydney is the Mixed Migration Centre’s Global 4Mi and Data Coordinator. She has nearly a decade of research experience, with a particular focus on forced migration. Chloe has a PhD on refugee decision-making with regards to return, and a master’s degree in International Migration and Public Policy.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
Although challenging, scholar-activism is a crucial analytical and political endeavor today.
In some particular settings, perhaps the best way to advance social science research is to engage in collaboration with social groups whose vision you are broadly sympathetic to. Yet the challenge is that you may find yourself politically supporting and advocating the very social practices you are studying. Does this make your research biased? Like many other development practitioners, I do not feign to practice disinterested research. Ultimately, ethical and political commitments permanently inform our practice: why we study certain phenomena and not others, why we consider some as problems but not others. Thus, no social science research is politically neutral; it all has a bias. But a certain level of political bias and scientific rigor are two different things.
Acknowledging that social research is biased does not imply a lack of rigor. As scholar-activists, our duty is to ensure that the visions we identify with are also subjected to theoretical scrutiny and peer review, and to practice honest reporting. The challenges are enormous. For instance, can you disagree with your local collaborator? Does scholar-activism mean ‘anything goes’ in terms of accepting uncritically whatever is being claimed by your local researcher partners? In this blog, Lorenza Arango reflects on collaborating with the Norman Pérez Bello Claretian organization (The Claretians, for short) in the eastern plains of Colombia.
The savanna landscape in Puerto Gaitán, Meta. Photo by author, June 2022.
It was in the middle of the 2022 rainy season in the Altillanura, Colombia.
Anita, a member of the Claretian organization and the leader of the field visit, was facing a tough decision: to cancel the visit halfway through – with several of the tasks we had agreed on still incomplete – or to move to another area within the region to finalize our mission. Heavy rains had made several of the roads impassable and navigating the Meta River to reach our next destination seemed the only way out. But travelling by river poses other security concerns, especially to social organizations such as the Claretians, whose members have become targets of threats and persecution.
‘How do you want to proceed? Shall we cancel the visit?’, I asked.
‘Let me think through… People are already waiting for us’, Anita replied.
After hours on the phone with members of the communities we were to visit, and with the head of the Claretian organization, to validate the security conditions in the area, the decision was made: to get on the first boat departing at 4:00 am, and to stick together during the approximately 8-hour journey, as well as to remain alert and cautious.
In recent years, the eastern Altillanura (high plains) in Colombia – encompassing the department of Vichada and portions of Meta – have turned into a major frontier destination for lucrative investments in land. Over a short period of time, the region changed from being a far, scattered and poorly developed landscape of tropical savannas bordering Venezuela to become the greatest and ‘last agricultural frontier’ of the country and even the new ‘promised land’.
The Colombian Altillanura was part of a broader phenomenon of spectacular, multi-faceted land grabs across the world known as the ‘global land rush’. Roughly between 2004 and 2017, multiple corporate land deals were pursued in the area. Other land deals were halted at early stages of implementation or never really touched the ground, but nevertheless contributed to fuel the investment frenzy. Meanwhile, land accumulation by stealth, effected by low-profile actors, progressed apace – taking part in the bandwagon effect driven by the land rush.
For the indigenous peoples and the peasantry inhabiting the Altillanura, the tropical savannas were not an investment target. They were their home sites and key a source of livelihoods. For decades now, both communities have suffered from the effects of multiple iterations of land dispossession and forced displacement by different actors (including the state, economic elites, armed guerrilla groups, narcotraffickers and paramilitary). The recent land rush in the area, and the ensuing social and environmental crisis, further exacerbated the precarious living conditions experienced by these – making them the poorest strata of the rural population.
An improvised kitchen at the indigenous settlement of ‘Iwitsulibo’ (Puerto Gaitán, Meta). Photo by author, June 2022.
Against this background, the work of the Norman Pérez Bello Claretian organization (Corporación Claretiana Norman Pérez Bello – CCNPB) is fundamental. The Claretians is a Colombian non-profit organization that promotes social justice and peace and accompanies peasant and indigenous communities who assert their rights through non-violent mechanisms. It offers legal advice, as well as psychological, pedagogical and communications support. Since around 2003, the Claretians has continually supported efforts by various rural peoples to improve their living conditions in Colombia’s eastern plains and other regions of the country. To date, it is perhaps the only organization in the area whose work in the defence of rural communities has endured the test of time and the brutality of various forms of violence – including persecution of its members and threats against their lives.
As a PhD researcher within the European Research Council (ERC) Advanced Grant-funded RRUSHES-5 project, based at the International Institute of Social Studies (ISS) of Erasmus University Rotterdam, I am pleased to have collaborated with the Claretians and to have learned first-hand from the work it does in the Altillanura. My first engagement with its work happened when I accidentally came across short online publications by the organization, in which it denounced recent land grabs in the area and the effects these had on Sikuani indigenous peoples. I later heard about the organization from other researchers and investigative journalists and became an admirer of its work.
On the basis of collaborative agreements, the Claretians facilitated a significant part of my fieldwork in the Altillanura for my doctoral dissertation. Together we visited what had become key investment sites by large corporations and political and economic elites in the municipality of Puerto Gaitán in the Meta department and in La Primavera and Santa Rosalía in Vichada. We listened to and documented people’s retelling of harsh stories of dispossession associated with the investment rush and the consequences to their livelihoods of land lost.
While collaborating with the Claretians, the alleged boundaries between scholarly research and activism suddenly becoming less rigid. This collaboration has also taught me the often-challenging practice of scholar activism and how indispensable it is today.
Traversing the open plains and water springs by foot in rural Puerto Gaitán, Meta. Photos by author, June 2022.
On a number of occasions, I inevitably performed tasks closer to advocacy work – which clearly influenced my research outcomes. For instance, at most field sites we visited, I cooperated in setting up meetings and assemblies between indigenous community members and government officers, hoping these could result in the challenges faced by the indigenous people (for example, in terms of their land access and their living conditions) being better addressed. I also helped draft press releases denouncing abuse and threats of coercion by the local police and illegal armed groups against community members and the Claretians and demanding that the state ensure the fundamental rights of the indigenous peoples. I also devised tools that could help to leverage indigenous peoples’ decision-making power in response to state authorities, such as printed maps of their territories.
Public assembly converging indigenous communities across the eastern plains and government functionaries from the National Land Agency in La Primavera, Vichada. Photos by author, March 2023.
At the same time, the collaboration allowed the Claretians to systematize much of the evidence it had collected over the years about the politics of land access in the Altillanura, as well as to reach larger audiences – through reports and other publications that came out of our partnership.
Of course, experiences of scholar-activism such as this are not exempt from challenges. How could both parties ensure that the research project I was representing would be useful and impactful to the people on the ground? What other research strategies should I employ to validate the conclusions resulting from the collaborative work, apart from fieldwork? Also, were the Claretians – given its knowledge of the area and of the communities it accompanies – entitled to set the objectives and terms of our collaboration? Could I object to the organization’s practices or disagree with the behaviour of some of its members in the field? If so, could that risk our collaboration or compromise particular outcomes from it? In the end, all of us, both the members of the organization and myself, had to deal with these questions and several other contradictions arising along the way.
All in all, the underlying message is clear: in contexts of widespread land dispossession, such as the one shaping the Colombian Altillanura, struggles over land remain a key axis of mobilization, which in turn make of scholar-activism an analytically crucial and politically empowering undertaking and method of work – despite of (or even because of) the difficulties surrounding it.
***
Nowadays in academia, research with positive societal impact has gained wide support. It is often interpreted to mean that academic work impacts and transforms society and societal actors. This is certainly valid and important. But in my case, another dimension is also clear: non-academic societal actors can profoundly impact and transform academics and academic work. While the first interpretation is significantly explored in academic circles, the impact of society and societal actors in academia is relatively less so. Yet I believe it is equally important to think about how non-academic societal actors, especially social justice activists like Anita and her Claretian colleagues, positively impact and transform academic researchers like me, and, for that matter, academia and academic work I am embedded in. And that feels right.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the Author
Lorenza Arango is a PhD researcher at the International Institute of Social Studies (ISS, The Hague) of Erasmus University Rotterdam. She is a member of the research team of the European Research Council (ERC) Advanced Grant awarded project ‘Commodity & Land Rushes and Regimes: Reshaping Five Spheres of Global Social Life (RRUSHES-5)’, led by Jun Borras. As part of this project, she is working on the interactions between contemporary commodity/land rushes and the spheres of labour and food politics, as well as on state-citizenship relations in Colombia.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
In this blog, Sister Agrippina Nandjaa (Caritas Namibia) marks the opening of the Humanitarian Observatory in Namibia, considering the importance of ‘neglected crises’ and their intersection with climate change. The Observatory in Namibia joins a growing network of spaces for research, discussion, and advocacy, coordinated by The Hague Humanitarian Studies Centre (HSC).
The Namibia Humanitarian Observatory was launched on 24 May 2024 to create a space for discussion with communities and stakeholders around vulnerability to disasters across the country. The self-governed Observatory aims to engage communities prone to recurrent climate-related shocks to share experiences and explore pathways toward creative and self-reliant communities, especially in the case of drought. The widespread impact and long duration of drought make it one of the most costly hazards in Namibia. However, the impacts of drought can often be lessened through preparedness and early action aimed at decreasing community vulnerability and exposure. Namibia is the most arid sub-Saharan country, experiencing very high evapotranspiration rates (Mendelsohn et al., 2002). Consequently, it is exposed to recurrent droughts, with historically devastating consequences. A growing population, persistent poverty, and climate change provide even greater threats in the future. And, with the situation in Namibia often falling into the category of ‘neglected humanitarian crises; affecting international support and aid, we are reminded of the importance of the everyday actions and practices that drive humanitarian action from the local and grassroots level.
A platform for discussion and analysis around drought
In partnership with The Hague Humanitarian Studies Centre (HSC) of the International Institute of Social Studies, the Namibia Humanitarian Observatory will be a platform for discussions that enable communities and authorities to respond to humanitarian crises. It will bring together communities to assess historical drought events and their extent and impacts in Namibia. It will facilitate the gathering and analysis of relevant data and explore the current institutions and systems involved in drought monitoring, forecasting, early warning, mitigation, and reduction in the country by subsistence farmers.
This space will also act as an early action initiative that initially focuses on rapid-onset hazards such as climate change awareness and strategies for subsistence farming. Agriculture is primarily the main activity for subsistence farming in Namibia. In its humanitarian work across the country, particularly now with the distribution of food parcels for vulnerable households, which includes undocumented people, Caritas Namibia has been thinking of what skills, training, and advocacy of recovery programs are needed in the long term in order to cope with protracted drought in the 14 regions of Namibia. Traditional farmers seem unable to cope with the changing weather and climate that has resulted in low rainfall during the farming season compared to 50 years ago. Now, Caritas Namibia, together with the local government authorities, wants to explore the way of rethinking lost skills, new skills, advocacy, and training for subsistence farmers to improve their household livelihood to counter dependence syndrome and increase the communities’ adaptive capacities. The Namibia Humanitarian Observatory will contribute to this objective and will also safeguard the importance of local and indigenous knowledge and practices when it comes to disaster preparedness, response, and prevention.
The launch was hosted in the Zambezi Regional Councils and was attended by the Governor of Zambezi region, the Councilors, and council staff, Joseph Moowa Kalokela, member of Namibia Observatory, Gabriela Anderson, community manager of HSC, Joram Tarusarira from the University of Groningen and member of the Namibia Observatory, and Agrippina Nandjaa, Coordinator of the Namibia Humanitarian Observatory and Caritas coordinator. The attendees of the launch were able to leave reflecting on how countries like Namibia, who are adversely and continuously vulnerable to the effects of climate change, can play a vital role in international politics in holding other countries accountable for their own roles in the changing climate, like the environmentally damaging consequences of warfare in Israel and Russia.
Together, the presenting team at the launch of the Namibia Humanitarian Observatory were able to gain the support of the local government in the Zambezi region of Namibia and further the roots of the Humanitarian Observatories. That is, the importance of discussing the role of different actors within the humanitarian field and how they work together (or not) in addressing humanitarian needs in a highly contextual and locally relevant way.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the Author
Sister Agrippina Nandjaa
Sr. Agrippina Nandjaa is a Catholic religious sister lives and work in Namibia, and directing Caritas Namibia-Namibian Catholic Bishop’s Conference. Agrippina hold a master degree in development Studies-Social Policy from International Institute of Social Studies-Erasmus Rotterdam University, Honor degree in adult education and community development and Diploma in community education from the University of Namibia. She has experience over ten years. Agrippina is also coordinating the Namibia observatory which was lunched on 24 May 2024 in Zambezi region-Namibia.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
Religious institutions, leaders, and grassroots movements hold the potential to be powerful allies in achieving the United Nations Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs). From combating poverty to promoting climate action, the reach and influence of religion are vast and often undervalued. In this blog, Kim Tung Dao explores how religion’s moral authority, extensive networks, and community-driven initiatives can be integrated into global development strategies, offering fresh insights into tackling humanity’s greatest challenges. Discover why embracing religion as a catalyst for sustainable development is crucial to bridging gaps and accelerating progress toward a better future.
Why Religion could be an important driver of achieving the SDGs
In a world where 84% of people identify with a religious group, an enormous untapped force for sustainable development remains largely overlooked. While governments and NGOs race to achieve the United Nations’ ambitious development goals, religious institutions – which reach over 6.5 billion people globally – could hold the key to accelerating progress (2012 report from the Pew Research Center).
The Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs), introduced by the United Nations in 2015, represent a global framework for addressing the most pressing challenges facing humanity, from eradicating poverty to ensuring environmental sustainability. Despite its worldwide endorsement and growing efforts to achieve these goals, significant gaps in progress remain. Even more troublingly, some of the goals seem to be delayed or even regressing, raising concerns about the overall feasibility of the SDGs.
The continuity of these issues prompts the question of whether the current approach to achieving the SDGs is missing a crucial force. In this context, one area that has received little attention is the role of religion. Given that religion continues to play a vital role in the lives of billions of people, especially after COVID-19, its potential impact on sustainable development will be argued for here. This blog explores how religion might be incorporated into the discussion on the SDGs to provide new insights and solutions to these enduring challenges.
Religion has historically shaped the values, ethics, and behaviors of societies. Whether through teachings that promote social justice, natural environment sustainability, or community solidarity, religion has the capacity to influence large populations in undeniable ways. This influence makes religion a potentially powerful force in the quest to achieve the SDGs.
This blog will explore the intersection between religion and sustainable development by discussing three key aspects: the role of religious institutions, the impact of religious leaders, and the power of grassroots religious movements. By examining these facets, we can better understand how religion can contribute to the SDGs.
However, the potential for religion to contribute to the SDGs may go beyond these shared values. Religious institutions often have extensive networks and resources that can facilitate development initiatives. In addition, religious leaders’ words and actions hold significant weight over their followers and can be great allies for achieving the SDGs. Finally, grassroots religious movements can motivate the local communities to take action, promoting local ownership of the SDGs. While the SDGs have been shaped largely and mainly from scientific, secular, and governmental perspectives, incorporating religious factors could make achieving these goals more feasible.
Religious institutions: An important force for Sustainable Development
Religious institutions, with their long-established history and widespread influence, can be powerful agents of change. One striking example of how religious institutions support sustainable development can be found in the Catholic Church’s environmental efforts, particularly through Pope Francis’s encyclical Laudato Si. The Laudato Si’ (‘Praise be’) 9 has encouraged environmental engagement and social justice, both of which are highly in line with the SDGs. This document has inspired Catholics to consider the ethical dimensions of environmental issues, leading to increased activism and policy advocacy. Thus, urging Catholics to see environmental issues as moral concerns. This aligns with SDG 13 (Climate Action), as the document encourages responsible stewardship of the Earth through ethical consumption and reducing environmental degradation. This has spurred various environmental initiatives among Catholic communities, from promoting renewable energy to waste reduction campaigns.
Furthermore, religious institutions often have resources and networks that can benefit the sustainable development process. For example, faith-based organizations like Caritas and Islamic Relief Worldwide have played significant roles in humanitarian aid and poverty alleviation, directly contributing to the achievement of at least two SDGs namely SDG 1 (No Poverty) and SDG 2 (Zero Hunger). The impact of these organizations is substantial and measurable. In 2022 alone, Islamic Relief Worldwide reached an unprecedented 17.3 million people across various regions, providing aid to those affected by crises and working to alleviate poverty (according to the Islamic Relief Worldwide Annual Report 2022). And the Caritas Internationalis 2021 annual report indicates that they implemented 15 projects, assisting 5.3 million people in 14 countries. These efforts directly contribute to SDG 1 (No Poverty) and SDG 2 (Zero Hunger), demonstrating how religious institutions can effectively mobilize resources for sustainable development.
Religious Leaders: Promoters of Changes
While religious institutions provide structural support and resources for sustainable development, it is often the voices of religious leaders that inspire personal commitments and actions. These leaders, through their moral authority, can influence the entire community towards achieving the SDGs. Religious leaders can have significant influence over their followers, often serving as moral and spiritual guides and examples. This influence can be utilized to promote the SDGs. A good example is the role of the Dalai Lama in promoting peace, compassion, and environmental responsibility. His teachings have inspired millions, inspiring efforts toward peaceful coexistence (SDG 16) and environmental sustainability (SDG 13).
On the other hand, while religious leaders can be pivotal allies, tensions may arise when their goals conflict with those of secular development agencies. For example, certain religious values might conflict with policies around reproductive health (SDG 3) yet fostering dialogue and cooperation between these entities could help find common ground, such as shared concerns around poverty or education.
Grassroots religious movements: fuels for local action
Beyond the influence of prominent religious leaders, grassroots movements rooted in local communities can serve as powerful engines of change. These movements engage people at a personal level, fostering a sense of ownership in sustainable development efforts and driving collective action from the ground up. Grassroots religious movements often emerge from local communities that are deeply tied to their cultural and religious identities, giving them a strong position to steer sustainable development actions at the heart of community life. These movements, because of their close connection to local people, can bring a sense of ownership and empowerment to each community member, encouraging them to take action in support of the SDGs usually at their own pace.
For instance, a movement named Greenfaith unites people of various religious backgrounds in environmental activism. Emphasizing ‘grassroots’, ‘multifaith’, and ‘climate justice’, they have successfully mobilized communities to combat climate change and protect natural resources. By framing environmental protection as a moral and spiritual obligation, Greenfaith has inspired grassroots actions that contribute directly to SDG 13 (Climate Action) and SDG 15 (Life on Land).
Conclusion
Considering the role of religion in achieving the SDGs opens new and potentially effective perspectives. Religious institutions, leaders, and grassroots movements have the capacity to move a large number of people (e.g. their followers), material resources, and spiritual resources (such as innovative ideas) in support of sustainable development. By integrating religious perspectives into the SDG framework and process, we can enhance the feasibility of these goals.
This approach is not only useful for policymakers and development practitioners but also for the religious communities themselves, who can find new ways to contribute to global development efforts while at the same time increasing their influence. As we continue to strive towards a more sustainable future, the insights offered by religion should not be overlooked or ignored but rather embraced as valuable input for achieving the SDGs.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the Author:
Kim Tung Dao
Kim Tung Dao is a recent PhD graduate of the International Institute of Social Studies, Erasmus University Rotterdam. Her research interests include globalization, international trade, sustainable development, and the history of economic thought.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
2024 marked 7 years of sharing groundbreaking research, insights, and global perspectives! Over the past seven years, our academic blog has grown into a vibrant platform where thought leaders, researchers, and scholars connect, collaborate, and inspire meaningful change. Here’s to continuing this journey of innovation and impact!
Our Reach at a Glance:
🌍 279,000+ views across six continents.
📬 518 subscribers actively engaging with and supporting our content.
🚀 Expanded to new territories in the past year, including Somalia and DR Congo, showcasing the growing influence of our blog.
🌐 We are moving to BlueSky to further amplify our community and reach new audiences!
Thank you for being part of this incredible journey—together, we’re making an impact worldwide! 🌟
Highlighting Our Researchers
None of this would be possible without our talented researchers, whose work has sparked important conversations on global issues. From technology and social justice to gender studies and international policy, their contributions have been pivotal in shaping the academic discourse.
What’s Next?
As we celebrate the new year, we are looking ahead to further amplify diverse voices, tackle pressing challenges, and provide cutting-edge content to our growing audience. Stay tuned for more exciting developments, exclusive articles, and new collaborations!
In the new year, we’ll be diving into thought-provoking topics such as:
Religion as a Catalyst for Achieving Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs)
10 Fashion Trends to Adapt to Climate Change After 2030
Scholar-Activist Research Methods – Challenging but Indispensable
Emphasizing Locally-Led Knowledge Interventions in Cases of Neglected Humanitarian Crises: Launching the Namibian Humanitarian Observatory
Huge Development Aid Cuts: Harmful for Economic Relations and Dutch Asylum Policy
Thank you to everyone who has supported us throughout this journey. Here’s to many more years of learning, impactful research, and inspiring conversations!
November 25 is the International Day for the Elimination of Violence against Women, and to mark the day this blog has been written by Carolien Jacobs (Leiden University) Patrick Milabyo Kyamugusulwa (ISDR-Bukavu), and Rachel Sifa Katembera, all three members of the Humanitarian Observatory DRC. The authors argue throughout that it is important that we realise that sexual and gender-based violence (SGBV) consists of more than only sexual violence, it also includes structural violence that regulates justice. This is also the case in conflict-settings such as the east of the DRC, where a lot of attention goes to sexual violence. Le 25 novembre est la Journée Internationale pour l’Élimination de la Violence à l’égard des Femmes. Pour marquer cette journée, ce blog a été rédigé par Carolien Jacobs (Université de Leiden), Patrick Milabyo Kyamugusulwa (ISDR-Bukavu), et Rachel Sifa Katembera, tous membres de l’Observatoire humanitaire de la République Démocratique du Congo (RDC). Les auteurs soutiennent qu’il est important de comprendre que les violences sexuelles et basées sur le genre (VSBG) ne se limitent pas seulement à la violence sexuelle, mais inclut également la violence structurelle qui régit la justice. C’est également le cas dans les situations de conflit comme à l’est de la RDC, où une grande attention est portée à la violence sexuelle.
This blog was first published in English on BlissPhoto by Authors
À une époque où le slogan « son corps, mon choix » gagne rapidement – et malheureusement – du terrain sur les réseaux sociaux, il est important que nous soyons conscients de l’éventail des crimes que constituent les violences sexuelles et basées sur le genre (VSBG) : il s’agit de bien plus que de simples violences sexuelles physiques.
Depuis de nombreuses années, les violences sexuelles dans l’est de la République démocratique du Congo suscitent l’attention des médias, des donateurs internationaux et des académiques, en particulier lorsqu’elles sont commises par des groupes armés. En 2018, le Dr Denis Mukwege, gynécologue de renom, a reçu le prix Nobel de la paix pour ses « efforts visant à mettre fin à l’utilisation de la violence sexuelle comme arme de guerre et de conflit armé ». Bien que nous ne souhaitions en aucun cas nier ou minimiser la forte prévalence des violences sexuelles en RDC – comme l’a également montré Bilge Sahin, collègue de l’ISS –, nous aimerions utiliser ce blog pour attirer l’attention sur d’autres formes de violence structurelle dans de nombreux pays de notre monde patriarcal dominant. Ces formes de violence fondée sur le genre sont profondément ancrées dans les structures de la société, ce qui rend difficile pour les femmes (et les minorités) de revendiquer leurs droits et d’obtenir justice. Dans un précédent blog de cette série, Patrick Milabyo et Delu Lusambya ont déjà souligné l’importance de repenser les normes de la masculinité et de lutter contre la masculinité toxique.
Dans ce blog, nous attirons l’attention sur deux formes de violence répandues qui touchent de manière disproportionnée les femmes dans l’est de la RDC, à savoir la violence liée aux conflits d’héritage et aux accusations de sorcellerie. Qu’est-ce qui est problématique dans ce cas ? À quels défis les femmes sont-elles confrontées lorsqu’elles cherchent à obtenir justice (étatique ou non) dans de telles situations ? Et que peut-on faire à ce sujet ?
Droit de succession : décalage entre droit étatique et droit coutumier
Selon le Code de la famille congolais, révisé en 2016, les femmes ont droit à une part similaire des biens de leurs parents après leur décès. Pourtant, dans la plupart des régions du pays, la coutume veut que seuls les héritiers masculins aient le droit d’hériter, alors que les filles restent souvent bredouilles, Ceci s’applique également aux enfants nés hors mariage, s’ils ont été reconnus par le défunt de son vivant. Ainsi, tous les enfants constituent la première catégorie d’héritiers (art. 758.1). Un problème similaire se pose pour le droit de succession des époux, qui est encore plus compliqué dans les mariages polygames et dans les mariages conclus uniquement sur une base religieuse ou coutumière. Cela signifie qu’en cas de décès du mari, sa famille réclame souvent les biens, la femme perdant tout, même si le partenaire survivant, les parents et les frères et sœurs du défunt sont tous des héritiers de deuxième catégorie selon le Code de la famille de la RDC (art. 758.2). S’il n’y a pas d’enregistrement officiel du mariage, les femmes dépendent des autorités coutumières pour appliquer le Code de la famille statutaire, mais ces autorités (plus souvent en milieu rural) adhèrent souvent plus fermement aux normes coutumières qui prescrivent la restitution des biens du couple à ses beaux-parents. Dans la pratique, nous constatons des efforts de la société civile pour sensibiliser les gens au Code de la famille et au droit des femmes à hériter à la fois en tant qu’épouses et en tant que filles. Pourtant, il reste courant que les familles divisent les biens uniquement entre les hommes, les filles et les épouses étant souvent perdantes.
Accusations de sorcellerie
Partout en Afrique, les États ont du mal à trouver des moyens de faire face à la sorcellerie et aux accusations de sorcellerie. Ce n’est pas différent en RDC, où l’État ne reconnaît pas l’existence de la sorcellerie, ni les menaces de sorcellerie (Dunn 2024). Les accusations de sorcellerie sont le plus souvent dirigées contre les femmes, en particulier les femmes âgées. Les accusations de sorcellerie sont des indicateurs de tensions et de méfiance dans les relations sociales. Même si de telles accusations manquent de preuves matérielles, elles sont difficiles à contre-attaquer pour la personne accusée. Les autorités locales (étatiques et non étatiques) n’ont souvent pas le pouvoir de traiter de telles accusations et d’apaiser les tensions, et les victimes de (fausses) accusations ne peuvent pas recourir à un cadre juridique pour faire face à ces accusations. Par mesure de protection, nous constatons que les femmes accusées sont parfois expulsées de leurs communautés, voire placées en détention pour les protéger de la « justice populaire ». Les « recours » proposés par la police et d’autres services de l’État portent donc encore plus atteinte à leurs droits et risquent de transformer les femmes accusées en doubles victimes.
En quête de justice pour la violence basée sur le genre sous toutes ses formes
Les femmes de l’est de la RDC sont touchées de manière disproportionnée par les injustices liées aux litiges successoraux et aux accusations de sorcellerie. Pour le premier type d’injustices, un cadre juridique approprié existe, mais son application est en contradiction avec la pratique quotidienne dans de nombreux endroits, plus particulièrement en milieu rural, même lorsque la connaissance juridique des droits des femmes en matière d’héritage existe. Les accusations de sorcellerie sont plus difficiles à traiter dans les cadres juridiques et rationnels de la justice étatique, mais les solutions actuelles recherchées par les autorités font encore plus de mal.
En résumé, nous soutenons que même si les institutions judiciaires étatiques sont accessibles, des facteurs sociétaux peuvent encore entraver la reconnaissance des droits des femmes et perpétuer la violence basée sur le genre. La sensibilisation juridique et la promotion d’un changement de culture sont toutes deux nécessaires pour surmonter les conflits entre les droits humains et les pratiques culturelles qui désavantagent les femmes. Bien que nous nous concentrions ici sur la RDC, des exemples de violence basée sur le genre peuvent être trouvés dans le monde entier. Ne restons pas silencieux à ce sujet et reconnaissons que la VSBG ne se limite pas seulement aux VS !
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
Auteurs :
Carolien JacobsCarolien Jacobs est professeure assistante à l’Université de Leiden et mène des recherches en collaboration avec le Centre des sciences sociales pour le développement Africain-KUTAFITI.
Patrick Milabyo KyamusugulwaPatrick Milabyo Kyamusugulwa est professeur à l’Institut supérieur des techniques médicales de Bukavu, en République démocratique du Congo (RDC). Il est membre de l’Observatoire humanitaire de la RDC et membre du Centre des sciences sociales pour le développement Africain-KUTAFITI.
RachelRachel Sifa Katembera est chercheuse au Centre des sciences sociales pour le développement Africain-KUTAFITI et membre de l’Observatoire humanitaire de la RDC.
Ce blog est basé sur des recherches empiriques menées par les auteurs sur l’accès à la justice dans l’est de la RDC dans le cadre de l’Alliance Just Future.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
This blog is part of the Humanitarian Governance: Accountability, Advocacy, Alternatives’ project. This project has received funding from the European Research Council (ERC) under the European Union’s Horizon 2020 research and innovation programme under grant agreement No. 884139
In this blog post, Fernando Garlin and Juliana Poveda explore the ethical and methodological dilemmas faced by researchers working with forced Venezuelan migrants in politically polarized contexts in Latin America. Through personal reflections, they delve into how the researcher’s identity shapes their relationship with the research participants and the interpretation of migratory realities, highlighting the tension between neutrality, authenticity and adaptability. They suggest that building human relationships and recognizing local complexities are essential for overcoming the double standards of engaged academics and fostering a deeper understanding of the migratory situation.
Image by Authors
In contexts marked by violent conflicts, institutional crises, fast changes and high degrees of political polarization, researchers encounter varying degrees of distrust, suspicion and openness from participants in the field. In our case, both of us have worked with Venezuelan migrants in Colombia, Spain and the United States. Amidst polarizing right- vs. left-wing politics and sentiments, the question constantly arises about how to present ourselves to our research participants: Is it important to disclose fully our personalities and positionalities? Should we embrace the neutrality and formality expected from researchers? Or ought we perform a mixture of authenticity and detachment to open the dialogue with our interviewees?
In this blog post, we use dialogue to explore how each one of us has addressed this situation. Our dialogue is itself a necessary collaboration to enrich our standpoints. Fernando is Venezuelan and Juliana is Colombian and we have both worked with Venezuelan migrants in the same region. However, we have noticed how our nationalities condition our gaze on forced migration.
Fernando: I spent more than a year on the Colombia-Venezuela border, between 2020 and 2022, mostly in Cúcuta. Over time, the whole issue of my ‘position’ gradually lost relevance in my reflections. Not because it stopped being important, but because, little by little, I started blending into my relationships, my surroundings and my belonging to an organization of Venezuelans in the region. So people already knew what my role was and where I stood before even agreeing to an interview: ‘Oh, he’s the guy who works with that aid organization and is interested in those issues.’
While researching violence, abuse and extreme precariousness, I think people cared less about my political stance and focused much more on evaluating my personality – for example, how witty, available or sensible I was. Those things gradually became way more important for coexisting and building human relationships. It helped me move beyond the usual observer-observed/participant mould.
That being said, my political position did matter in institutional spaces with humanitarian officers from the government and international cooperation sectors. My push for more quotas, aid and responses to the situation was seen as ‘left-wing; I pointed out things that needed improvement, to be denounced or reformed. But was I merely a ‘useful leftist’ being used to justify right-wing policies? In governmental or international cooperation settings, people even asked me ‘Are you here to help or not?’ Or was I just here to criticize, a ‘bad leftist’. Being aware of and discussing these issues allows us to be more critical of the role of the researcher in the field, not just as an observer but also as an actor.
I feel that my positionality has been shaped by these two tensions: local sensitivities and national policy discussions in each country. What about your experience, Juliana?
Juliana: I also arrived at the Norte de Santander region in Cúcuta in 2019. One of my first learnings was that authorities and NGOs make distinctions and present measures and procedures for Venezuelans as ‘novel, special and temporary’. Yet these legal measures were very disconnected from the daily life and reality of people forced to migrate into Colombia and join local communities. For example, it was enough to step away from the desk to figure out that the distinction between different types of ‘populations’ and ‘migrations’ might be artificial and pernicious. People with similar needs, newcomers and locals, were competing for attention and resources. Although it was undeniable that an extra layer of vulnerability came from the lack of regular migratory status of Venezuelans in Colombia, their needs and risks were similar to Colombian civilians within the context of armed conflict. This is not novel in forced migration dynamics; similar problems were experienced by Syrians and local communities in Turkey and Lebanon (Müller-Funk 2021).
My second learning was that, although bilateral relations shape migration policies, irrespective of whether there was a right- or left-wing government in Colombia, the change of political wing does not necessarily imply higher compliance with migrants’ rights. Pragmatism informs decision-making. Neither fiercely opposing Maduro’s authoritarian regime nor keeping cautiously silent about it has translated into an open recognition of Venezuelans as refugees or into higher standards of economic and social rights protection.
So, observing the dynamics of Colombian and Venezuelan migrant communities more broadly enabled me to seek a new stance from where I could take a critical and panoramic view of the law and its social context. Thus, I chose social research as a tool to address the law-context interaction. Fernando, how did ethnography help you to be closer to your research participants from an academic standpoint?
Fernando: In my ethnography, I try to distance myself from opinions or reactions that might make me seem like an outsider, as this could jeopardize trust. I prefer to get to know people and adapt to them, rather than taking a fixed stance. After all, every relationship is human, even in research. I find it hard that we must constantly remind ourselves and our colleagues of this. My job as an anthropologist is to explore what people think and how they think. And you have to allow space and time for that to happen.
This doesn’t mean I can’t speak out against authoritarian acts, violence or state terror in Venezuela, but when I’m doing research, all of that is just the backdrop so that the real protagonists – people – can come forward with their beliefs, ideas, opinions, sensitivities and emotions. So, my position leans more towards figuring out where to understand from, with whom and how to make sense of the confusion.
In your experience as a lawyer and researcher, how do you choose to position yourself? Do you have different behaviours, attitudes or decisions that you make depending on the people you’re meeting?
Juliana: From a socio-legal lens, I look at migration and refugee law from the opposing and interacting view of diverse stakeholders. These perspectives have enabled me to develop more reflexivity in my own gaze: conditions, experiences and assumptions. Thus, I can find nuances amidst the binaries suggested by the context and recognise my standpoint. Beyond the partisan right- vs. the left-wing binary (Roht-Arriaza y Martínez 2019), others have struck me: the attention and resources given to Venezuelan migrants undermine those for peacebuilding in Colombia. Or, its analogue, but from another side: the Colombian peace talks with the ELN and the FARC dissidents validate Maduro’s regime and neglect forced migrants.
I also find myself constantly justifying not only why I am researching from a Global North University but also why I am not researching my country’s affairs (Abasli and Elassal 2021). I find only ‘empathy’ as the answer. The experience of Colombian internally displaced people and forced migrants abroad should have also taught us to recognise vulnerability and depart from there. Hence, it is senseless to argue about whether the Colombian or Venezuelan crisis in the region deserves more attention, or should attract more international condemnation and cooperation. They are now entwined. I would rather begin with the fact that both civil societies deal with deep traumas due to polarization, failed democracies, inequality and violence (Bejarano 2011).
Once the polarization noise lowers, it is necessary to spotlight the main role of forced migrants (Clark-Kazak 2021). Nobody can speak on their behalf about how they face challenges such as ‘anti-migrant’ expressions in Global North countries (Achiume 2022). Hence, the researcher, alongside reflexivity, should collaborate with local organizations to protect the interests of forced migrants and amplify their voices (Harley, T. and Wazefadost 2023). Have you found another dichotomy? How did you solve it, Fernando?
Fernando: This might sound abstract and a bit lukewarm, but for me, anthropology isn’t activism or politics; it’s about building connections, relationships and concepts to understand activism and politics. Unfortunately, I’m not sure that understanding makes us ‘better’ at anything – maybe that’s just a knowledge-based illusion. That’s why I believe the role of the ethnographer and anthropologist is to accompany, shape and give meaning and strength to social experiences.
Beyond slogans about defending the most vulnerable – which I consider obvious unless you’re some kind of colonial exploiter – it’s about constantly searching for the spaces where the seeds of change, new futures and hopes for humanity can grow.
Our conclusion
Finally, we both agree that our positionalities are flexible. They evolve as we interact with our research participants and colleagues and reflect on our contexts and biases. We avoid identifying ourselves with binaries or exclusionary positions. That does not mean that we are ambivalent or vague. On the contrary, we believe that rather than being a bystander we should engage with others and collaborate, especially with those on the move. The more researchers can allow themselves to listen to any argument, trying to understand why someone may think or act in a particular way, the more their work might be collaborative with migrants and local communities. In this sense, socio-legal approaches may be informed by ethnography. We thus believe that the most challenging positionality is imagining new horizons with others: constantly stepping outside oneself, time and again, and returning with multiple perspectives. Every researcher carries something of the migrant, always seeking to understand the other; and every migrant carries something of the researcher, in their own search for understanding.
Achiume, E.T. (2022) Empire, borders, and refugee responsibility sharing. California Law Review, 110 (3), 1011-1040.
Bejarano A. (2011). Democracias precarias: Trayectorias políticas divergentes en Colombia y Venezuela (Precarious democracies: Divergent political paths in Colombia and Venezuela). Bogotá, D. C., Colombia: Universidad de los Andes, Colombia. Retrieved September 4, 2021, from http://www.jstor.org/stable/10.7440/j.ctt18crz6b
Harley, T. and Wazefadost, N. (2023) Guidelines for Co-Produced Research with Refugees and Other People with Lived Experience of Displacement. UNSW.
Müller-Funk, L. (2021) Research with refugees in fragile political contexts: How ethical reflections impact methodological choices. Journal of Refugee Studies, 34 (2), 2308–2332.https://doi.org/10.1093/jrs/feaa013.
Roht-Arriaza, N. and Martínez, S. (2019) Grand corruption and the international criminal court in the Venezuela situation. Journal of International Criminal Justice, 17 (5), 1057–1082.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the Authors:
Fernando Garlin
Fernando Garlin is a PhD candidate at Université Paris Cité (CEPED, IRD, INSERM). His research intersects border studies, violence, and migration. Using ethnographic methods, he seeks to understand hate narratives within the governance regimes where they emerge. His publications focus on the political and aesthetic forms that alternative or marginalized groups adopt during sanitary and political crises.
Juliana Poveda
JulianaPoveda is a PhD student in the Law Department at Ulster University. Her research project addresses the linkages between reparative justice, responsibility-sharing, and durable solutions, addressing the case of Venezuelans forced to migrate to Colombia, the United States and Spain (EU). She is interested in sociolegal and interdisciplinary research that engages forced migration, human rights protection, and peacebuilding.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
Trade unions and civil society organizations have fought long and hard for living wages in global supply chains, but inflation and the rising cost of living exacerbate a precarious financial situation for many workers. In this blog article, Wilbert Flinterman, Senior Advisor Workers’ Rights and Trade Union Relations for Fairtrade International, asks: How can we keep the goal of living wages from moving out of sight?
Source: Wikicommons
The living wage dilemma
Living wages, defined by Anker and Anker as ‘[wages] that [cover] the basic needs of workers and their families, including food, clothing, shelter, healthcare, education, transport to work and a little extra for unforeseen circumstances,’are considered by many a human right upon interpretation of the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights (1966). Much has been done in the past years to further the living wage agenda in global supply chains, outside of regular collective bargaining processes. This includes work in Asian garment sectors, driven by groups like the Clean Clothes Campaign and ACT on Living Wages, and activities in food and agricultural supply chains steered by industry convenors like The Sustainable Trade Initiative (IDH), standard setters such as Fairtrade International and others.
However, ensuring that their workers are being paid a decent wage may constitute a substantial cost to employers, particularly those whose business model is based on selling large volumes of low-priced product sustained by low wages. In many countries with low levels of productivity, legal minimum wages are kept low to attract foreign investment, but as a result, they are insufficient to support a decent standard of living. If then international campaigns and sustainability initiatives call for living wages in global supply chains, businesses may quickly reach their break-even point if buyers are not willing to pay more for products. With inflation rising worldwide and both costs of living and production costs increasing, is it then still realistic to expect that workers in global supply chains are being paid living wages? After all, when companies make less profits, jobs may be at stake, and living wages depend on people remaining employed. In other words, should the pursuit of living wages be so rigid if that means job losses, potentially pushing workers and their families deeper into poverty?
Clearly, insisting on the basic right of workers and their families to enjoy a decent standard of living from the gains of employment does not mean disregarding economic conditions. What matters is making demonstrable progress on a pathway towards living wages, which is best achieved by wage setting through a collective bargaining process between companies and organized labour. But can we adapt a pathway towards liveable wages to a receding horizon? Living wages are not static and ride on fluctuations in costs of living. During times of inflation, wages need to rise to ensure workers can still afford daily necessities. Without compensation for inflation, workers’ purchasing power drops and any gap with the living wage widens.
The need for wage-setting institutions
The presence of trade unions in a sector generally drives wages up, even in companies that are not unionized. Trade unions understand better than most the importance of negotiating agreements with employers that include consumer price indexation of wages, along with additional increases to strengthen purchasing power. For employers, compensating workers for inflation does not always mean higher labour costs. Often, costs of living rises due to depreciation of local currency, which may have only a minor effect on producers trading in global supply chains and gaining their revenue in foreign currency. When revenue is earned in stronger currencies like dollars or euros, exchange rates may very well balance out wage increases paid out in local currency. Although that scenario is not always the case, the automatic assumption that raising wages is always costly to companies in export sectors must be avoided to assess their capacity to pay.
Employers may struggle to keep up with increased costs of production, especially when combined with falling demand in markets where consumers also face rising costs of living. However, the extent to which wage adjustment lags behind inflation will greatly depend on effective wage-setting institutions, like collective bargaining and regular adjustment of statutory minimum wages in line with the cost of living. Unfortunately, those institutions do not tend to work well in many countries where the rule of law is weak and trade union rights are not protected, either in law or in practice. Also, bargaining power of unions may be impeded for a variety of reasons, such as low unionization rates, legal barriers to acquiring the right to bargain or the right to strike, a lack of bargaining capacity or a fragmented labour movement. Besides that, governments may be reluctant to aggressively adjust minimum wages out of concern that it may scare off investment or undermine their own budgetary situation —as they are often among the largest employers in their country. Those conditions are conducive to companies with a business model predicated on low wages and may even attract them.
It must be clear that any attempt to address the problem will need to be informed by the legal, social and economic context in which wages are set. Levers such as improving quality, productivity and economic upgrading are well known. Others strategies include promoting responsible sourcing practices and strengthening of local wage-setting institutions.
Living wages as a human right
In the last few years, principles of responsible business conduct have been introduced into hard law in several major markets for global supply chains, culminating in the EU adoption of the corporate sustainability due diligence directive (the so-called CS3D) in 2024. This directive, which will be transposed into the national laws of EU member states in the coming years, recognizes living wages as a human right (see footnote 2) and requires that companies take action on human rights issues in their supply chains.
In taking action, companies must consider if they cause, contribute to, or are linked to negative impacts on human rights. That could mean improving sourcing practices, such as contracting and price setting practices to strengthen the ability of suppliers to pay better wages. It could also mean exerting influence on their suppliers to ensure respect for trade union rights and commitment to bargaining in good faith. Another approach might involve paying their suppliers a price premium designated as income support for workers.
The role of not-for-profits
Some companies, especially retailers stocking thousands of products in a similar number of supply chains, turn to not-for-profits like Fairtrade International for support, a voluntary standards system that has promoted equitable value distribution in global supply chains over the past 30 years. It has been successful in improving economic stability for producers of agricultural products by requiring buyers of Fairtrade-labelled products to pay a fixed minimum price. Representatives of Latin American banana companies, for example, have called for the Fairtrade minimum pricing approach to become an industry standard. Producers and exporters organisations believe that receiving an amount similar to the annually adjusted Fairtrade minimum price for their banana, would improve their ability to meet sustainability demands of market partners including the payment of Living Wages to workers. Fairtrade minimum prices for banana are set to account for the costs of sustainable production, including costs incurred from complying with Fairtrade’s requirement that certified banana plantations must pay at least 70% of the relevant living wage to their workers. This requirement, known as the Fairtrade Base Wage, is calculated using living wage estimations conducted by the Anker Research Institute and endorsed by the Global Living Wage Coalition, which Fairtrade co-founded.
Additionally, companies sourcing Fairtrade products must also pay Fairtrade premiums — either a fixed amount or a percentage of the market price — managed by farmers and workers. Workers often invest these premiums in housing repairs, education, and health services, freeing their own wages for other expenses. Part of the premium can also be received in cash to help cover daily expenses.
In 2023, Fairtrade also introduced living wage reference prices for banana from certified plantations. This price point adds a living wage differential to the Fairtrade minimum price and is an optional tool for buyers of Fairtrade bananas wanting to do more to support workers’ incomes in the absence of living wages.
The increased attention to finding solutions for inadequate wages in supply chains has led to recognition of Fairtrade’s tools as useful pieces of the puzzle. An organization like Fairtrade can help put more money in the pockets of workers by promoting better purchasing practices in global supply chains.
From human right to entitlement
Many employers inserted in global supply chains are reluctant to raise wages of their workers without the assurance of stable revenue from long-term business relationships. That is understandable, since in many agricultural supply chains orders are placed and prices are negotiated annually. Therefore, there is a common concern that to meet sustainability demands they raise wages that they won’t be able to sustain when customers reduce their sourcing commitment. Therefore from producers’ side there is often a preference for volume-based sustainability contributions from buyers such as Fairtrade living wage differentials. Workers and their families welcome the bonuses received from such payments that add to their household budget. Yet, whilst meaningful these benefits do not offer them the same economic security as a wage increase. Ultimately, living wages, in addition to being a human right, must become remuneration that workers can claim under local laws, whether through collective bargaining agreement or statutory minimum wages.
Whether this happens will depend on many stars aligning, hopefully leading to enterprises with more sustainable business models and more effective wage-setting institutions protected by the rule of law. Importantly, retailers in the markets of internationally sourced products must adopt coherent sourcing policies that enable producers to pay workers a Living Wage. Paying a fair price is key. Last but not least, conscious consumers have a role to play by asking for Fairtrade products in their local supermarkets. Each purchase improves the ability of workers or small-scale farmers to cope with higher costs of living.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the Author
Wilbert Flinterman
Wilbert Flinterman is a global expert on labor conditions in supply chains, with a focus on advancing workers’ rights and fostering constructive trade union relations. Trained in Decent Work principles and mediation at the International Labour Organisation (ILO), Wilbert combines strategic thinking with a practical understanding of global labor dynamics. His work bridges the gap between policy and practice, addressing systemic challenges in global supply chains while advocating for sustainable labor practices. With a commitment to equity and collaboration, Wilbert continues to contribute to the discourse on labor rights in an interconnected world.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
On 19th July 2024, the International Court of Justice ruled that Israel’s prolonged occupation of Palestinian territory is a violation of international law. In this blog post, Michelle Rudolph and Rachel Kurian analyse how the water governance regime imposed by the Israeli occupation in the West Bank generates systemic injustice and water insecurity for Palestinians. Their study was presented at the Teach-In Series on Water Justice in Palestine hosted by IHE Delft in May 2024 and held at IHE and at the Universities of Amsterdam and Wageningen.
Palestinian herders’ encampment in the northern Jordan Valley, West Bank (Photo by Michelle Rudolph, Jordan Valley, July 2019).
The sun blazes fiercely, its early morning heat already engulfing the dry landscape. In this wide expanse, a community of tents stands resolute, their silhouettes distinct against the dusty backdrop. Dust settles on every surface, coating the worn fabric of shelters and clinging to the hot iron roofs and water troughs.
Abdullah stands quietly at the edge of the encampment. He wipes his sweat from his brow, his weathered face a testament to years spent under the sun. His sheep huddle in the scant shade, their woolly bodies pressed close together. Each animal is precious, providing milk, meat and wool that sustain his family. As he tends to his flock, a distant rumble disrupts the quiet, catching Abdullah’s attention. The sound of live military training echoes through the valley. His brows furrow as he listens intently, wondering if the manoeuvres will draw closer and disrupt the fragile peace. For a moment, he stands still, his eyes scanning the horizon, the weight of uncertainty heavy on his shoulders.
Yet, immediate concerns press upon him, anchoring him firmly in the present. The problem of finding water for his family and sheep looms large. The water troughs lie empty, a stark reminder of his ongoing struggle to secure this vital resource. Abdullah draws a deep breath, bracing himself for the challenges that lie ahead today, much like every other day before it.
Since the war of June 1967, nearly 90% of the Jordan Valley, West Bank, has been under Israeli military control and so has the distribution of water. As a Palestinian Bedouin in the valley, Abdullah lives alongside his extended family in tents devoid of running water. Groundwater lies beneath their feet, yet regulations prohibit them from digging a well. The Jordan River flows nearby, but its access has been blocked by the Israeli military and Civil Administration. Below the Bedouin encampment, a water pipeline supplies a neighbouring Israeli settlement with continuous water, but Abdullah and his family are strictly forbidden from tapping into it. In an attempt to secure water, Abdullah once constructed a small water tank, only to have it demolished by the Israeli military for lacking proper permission. Each morning, Abdullah grapples with the pressing question: How can he procure enough water for drinking, washing, cleaning, cooking, and caring for his children, while ensuring his sheep thrive to provide income for his family’s survival? Abdullah’s experiences, shared with us during an interview in July 2019, are similar to those of many Palestinians in this area.
In this blog post, we delve into the critical issue of water and human insecurity faced by Palestinian Bedouins and farmers. Drawing from our study on water governance in the West Bank, we explore the underlying causes of these insecurities.
Our research sheds light on the asymmetrical power relations that shape water governance, significantly impacting the lives of vulnerable communities. Central to our discussion is the concept of hydro-hegemony, introduced by Zeitoun and Warner in 2006. This concept was developed to help us understand how stronger riparian states use various tactics and strategies in cross-border water conflicts to assert their dominance. However, we can also apply it to our case in which Israel’s hydro-hegemony over groundwater resources in the West Bank is manifested through three forms of power:
Material Power: This includes the use of military force, financial resources, and technological advancements.
Bargaining Power: This involves strategic negotiations and the use of incentives to influence outcomes.
Ideational Power: This encompasses the use of discourse and ideologies to shape perceptions and narratives.
Our study shows that these power dynamics are not just abstract concepts but have real, tangible effects on the daily lives of Palestinians. The systemic and structural nature of water insecurity means that many Palestinians are not only denied their basic right to water but also their right to livelihoods and to life itself.
The research we draw on combines historical and contemporary data with information based on 27 in-depth interviews we conducted in 2019. These interviews were held in the West Bank, primarily with Palestinian women and men from various communities in the Jordan Valley. In addition, we spoke to representatives from crucial institutions like the Palestinian Water Authority (PWA), the Union of Agricultural Work Committees (UAWC), and the Palestinian development and training institution MA’AN.
West Bank, Area C, and the Jordan Valley
The West Bank is a landlocked territory spanning approximately 5700 square kilometres – about one-seventh the size of the Netherlands. It is bordered by Jordan to the east and Israel on the north, south, and west and it has been under Israeli military occupation since June 1967.
The region is rich in freshwater resources, including the Jordan River and three major aquifers: the Western Aquifer, the North-Eastern Aquifer, and the Eastern Aquifer, that are collectively known as the ‘Mountain Aquifer’ and that extend through the West Bank and Israel (see image 2) (World Bank, 2009).
Image 2 – Water resources in the West Bank (by Michelle Rudolph after Zeitoun et al., 2009).
In 1967, the establishment of Kfar Etzion marked the beginning of Israeli settlements in the West Bank. These settlements, built by Israel and populated by Israeli citizens, have grown significantly over the decades. They are illegal under international law, as Article 49(6) of the 1949 Geneva Convention IV – also signed by Israel – explicitly prohibits an occupying power from transferring its civilians into the occupied territory (ICRC, 2018). That Israel’s long-term occupation of Palestinian territory and settlement building are unlawful has also been confirmed by International Court of Justice (ICJ) in its recent ruling of 19 July 2024.
In 1993, the first Interim Agreement, the Declaration of Principles on Interim Self-Government Arrangements known as Oslo I, was signed by the Israeli government and the Palestinian Liberation Organisation (PLO). It recognised Israel as a state and created joint Israeli-Palestinian committees for ‘mutual security’ and economic cooperation on several aspects, including water. The second agreement of 1995, the Israeli-Palestinian Interim Agreement on the West Bank and the Gaza Strip known as Oslo II, divided the West Bank into three administrative zones – Areas A, B, and C – each with a different governance system. Area C which covers 60% of the West Bank and contains most of the agricultural lands and water resources, came under full Israeli civil and security control.
While these agreements seemed to facilitate some level of cooperation, in reality, they allowed Israel’s continued control over Palestinian resources. They legitimized Israel as the sole authority to decide which lands would come under Palestinian control and left open the resolution of key areas of conflict such as borders, refugees, Jerusalem, and settlements. Moreover, they provided no legal power to stop the expansion of settlements and roads in the West Bank (Roy, 2002).
The Jordan Valley, where Abdullah lives with his family, is situated in the eastern part of the West Bank. Most of this area falls within Area C (blue and purple areas on the map), meaning it is under full Israeli military control. Often, these lands are designated as Israeli military zones (grey marked areas) or nature reserves (green marked area), restricting Palestinian access.
Referred to as a “giant greenhouse,” the Jordan Valley is ideal for irrigated agriculture due to its fertile soil, groundwater resources, ample sunlight, and warm climate. However, the stringent controls over land and water have led to a steady decline in Palestinian agricultural production throughout the occupation.
The Jordan Valley (image by Michelle Rudolph after OCHA 2012).
Impact on Palestinian Communities and the Urgent Need for Action
So, what do asymmetrical power relations in water governance mean for Palestinians famers and herders in the Jordan Valley? Our research reveals that they are confronted with various, interconnected, and cumulative forms of water insecurity in their daily lives:
Quantity– The quantitative supply gap is the starkest expression of the discriminatory water regime, as shown by the huge discrepancy in water consumption between Israeli settlers and Palestinians in the Jordan Valley (see image). For example, in the Ro’i and Beka’ot settlements in the northern Jordan Valley, the average household consumption exceeds 400 litres per capita per day (lpcd), compared to just 20 lpcd in the neighboring Bedouin community of Al-Hadidiya (Hareuveni, 2011).
Not being served by any network, many Palestinian Bedouin communities are forced to rely on water trucking, obtaining water from wells, springs, or filling points in other communities (UN, 2021). Some Palestinian farmers own their own wells. However, these are usually only a few dozen metres deep, in contrast to Israeli wells that regularly go down hundreds of metres to reach the aquifer. In past decades, groundwater levels have dropped significantly and so have the pumping rates from Palestinian wells. When Palestinian farmers have applied for permission to deepen their wells in order to regain access to fresh groundwater, their applications have often been denied by the JWC or the permission that they have received has not allowed them to dig as deep as required. Quality– While the quality of the water from springs and the Israeli network was generally considered good, water from wells often has high concentrations of chloride, rendering it unsuited for domestic use and posing health risks to families and livestock when they do drink from it
Distance and time– Water insecurity also results from the distance to water sources and the time required to collect water. Bedouin families who depend on water trucking endure long daily journeys to access fresh water, particularly challenging during the summer months.
Price and Affordability– Access to water is often financially burdensome, the price depending on the cost of the electricity needed to pump groundwater, the cost of water distribution, and the cost of transporting the water. Particularly for Bedouins, it challenges their economic stability.
Frequency and Reliability– Several of the issues discussed above show how Palestinians in the Jordan Valley experience water insecurity in relation to both the frequency and reliability of their water supplies. During the interviews, it was highlighted that frequency and reliability of water access were also compromised through the use of military force by Israel’s Civil Administration, as when construction and movement restrictions were imposed on Palestinians and water-related supply systems (e.g. water tanks and pipes) were demolished by Israeli soldiers.
Safety– Finally, the enforcement of military power in a context of conflict and occupation creates significant issues around safety of water access. One Bedouin father of eight shared his experience, explaining how he had been arrested several times by the Israeli military for unknowingly letting his sheep graze on closed-off land. “There are no borders. Only by experience you learn where (…) you can’t go”.. The situation is further aggravated by acts of violence perpetrated by armed Israeli settlers against Palestinians, including shootings and vandalism to property, which create a pervasive atmosphere of fear and insecurity. A local NGO member captured the dire reality of Palestinians in the Jordan Valley with stark clarity: “[They] are feeling threatened all the time. They are feeling insecure all the time. They have a lack of everything all the time”.
Daily domestic water consumption in litres per person (image by Michelle Rudolph after OCHA, 2021).
Living under these different forms of water and human insecurity has profound and far-reaching consequences for Palestinians, impacting their farming, herding, livelihoods, health, families and social relations. They are not just denied their fundamental right to water, but also their right to livelihood and life itself. As poignantly noted by a doctor from a health clinic in Area C in the Jordan Valley: “People here die twice in their lives. They die when they are alive, and they die when they are dying. […] no water, no cleaning, no hygiene, problems, conflicts […]”. At the same time, Palestinian farmers and herders are determined to remain on their land, undertaking various strategies to sustain their livelihoods and lives under extreme forms of violence, which we detail in another ongoing study.
This summer marks five years since we spoke with Abdullah and many other Palestinian farmers and herders in the Jordan Valley. During this time, several Bedouin communities in the area have been demolished, and Israeli pressures have only intensified (UNRWA, 2024). Since October 7, reports of settler violence and Israeli military offenses have surged: As of now, 20 Bedouin communities in the West Bank have been forcibly displaced by armed extremist settlers often with the consent and support of the Israeli military which is, as argued by Forey (2024), a form of ethnic cleansing.
These escalating challenges underscore the dire and urgent need for action. The struggle for water and human security faced by Palestinians in the West Bank is not just a local issue but a fundamental human rights crisis. It demands our continued attention, advocacy, and efforts to support those affected and to push for lasting and just solutions.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the Authors:
Michelle Rudolph
Michelle Rudolph is a social scientist, water engineer, and visual designer, holding an MSc in Environmental Engineering (Delft) and an MA in Development Studies (SJP) at the ISS. Michelle’s professional endeavours encompass research, fieldwork, and teaching, with a focus on water governance, disaster risk reduction, social vulnerability, and communication across various global contexts. She currently works as a consultant at HKV, a firm based in the Netherlands, specialized in flood risk and water management.
Rachel Kurian
Rachel Kurian is (retired) International Labour Economist at the ISS. She has done fieldwork and research on Palestine since 2014.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
November 25 is the International Day for the Elimination of Violence against Women, and to mark the day this blog has been written by Carolien Jacobs (Leiden University) Patrick Milabyo Kyamugusulwa (ISDR-Bukavu), and Rachel Sifa Katembera, all three members of the Humanitarian Observatory DRC. The authors argue throughout that it is important that we realise that sexual and gender-based violence (SGBV) consists of more than only sexual violence, it also includes structural violence that regulates justice. This is also the case in conflict-settings such as the east of the DRC, where a lot of attention goes to sexual violence.Photo by Authors
In a time in which ‘her body, my choice’ is quickly – and sadly – gaining traction on social media, it is important that we are aware of the range of crimes that sexual and gender-based violence (SGBV) consists of: it is more than physical sexual violence.
For many years, sexual violence in the east of the Democratic Republic of Congo has gained a lot of attention from media, international donors, and academics, especially when committed by armed groups. In 2018, the renowned gynecologist Dr. Denis Mukwege was awarded the Noble Peace Prize for his ‘efforts to end the use of sexual violence as a weapon of war and armed conflict’. Although we by no means want to deny or downplay the high prevalence of sexual violence in the DRC – as also shown by ISS colleague Bilge Sahin -, we would like to use this blog to raise attention to other forms of structural violence in many countries across our patriarchically dominant world. These forms of gender-based violence are deeply embedded in society’s structures, making it difficult for women (and minorities) to claim their rights and to find justice. In an earlier blog in this series, Patrick Milabyo and Delu Lusambya already pointed out the importance of rethinking norms of masculinity and of combating toxic masculinity.
In this blog we draw attention to two prevalent forms of violence that disproportionately affect women in eastern DR Congo, namely violence related to inheritance disputes, and to witchcraft accusations. What is problematic about this? Which challenges do women face when they seek (state or non-state) justice in such situations? And what can be done about this?
Inheritance rights: discrepancy between state law and customary law
According to the Congolese Family Code, revised in 2016, women are entitled to a similar share of their parents’ properties after death. Yet, in most parts of the country, custom holds that only the male heirs are entitled to inherit, and daughters often remain empty-handed, this also applies to children born out of wedlock, if they have been recognized by the deceased in life. As such, all children are the first category of heirs (art. 758.1). A similar problem arises for the right to inheritance for spouses, a problem that is even more complicated in polygamous marriages and in marriages that are concluded only on a religious or customary basis. This means that in case of the death of a husband, the husband’s family often claims the property, with the wife losing out, even though the surviving partner, parents and brothers and sisters of the deceased are all heirs in the second category according to the DRC Family Code (art 758.2). If there is no formal wedding registration, women depend on customary authorities to apply the statutory Family Code, but these authorities often adhere more strongly to customary norms that prescribe the return of the couple’s property to her in-laws. In practice, we see efforts of civil society actors to raise awareness about the Family Code and the right of women to inherit both as spouses, and as daughters. Yet, it remains common for families to divide property only among males, with daughters and spouses often losing out.
Witchcraft accusations
Across Africa, states have difficulties in findings ways to deal with witchcraft and witchcraft accusations. This is not any different in the DRC, where the state does not recognize the existence of witchcraft, nor the threats of witchcraft (Dunn 2024). Accusations of witchcraft are most often geared towards women, especially elderly women. Witchcraft accusations are indicators of tensions and distrust in social relations. Even if such accusations lack material evidence, they are difficult to counterclaim for the person accused. Local (state and non-state) authorities often lack the power to deal with such accusations and to calm tensions, and victims of (false) accusations cannot resort to a legal framework to address such accusations. As a measure of protection, we find that accused women sometimes get expelled from their communities, or are even placed in detention to protect them from ‘popular justice’. The ‘remedies’ that are offered by police and other state services hence harm their rights even further and risk turning accused women into double victims.
Seeking justice for gender-based violence in all its forms
Women in eastern DRC are disproportionately affected by injustices related to inheritance disputes and witchcraft accusations. For the former type of injustices, a proper legal framework exists, but its enforcement is at odds with everyday practice in many places, even when legal awareness about women’s inheritance rights exists. Witchcraft accusations are more difficult to address within the legal-rational frameworks of state justice, but the current solutions that are sought by authorities are doing even further harm.
In sum, we argue that even if state institutions of justice are accessible, societal factors may still hinder the recognition of women’s rights and continue gender-based violence. Raising legal awareness and promoting a change of culture are both need to overcome clashes between human rights and cultural practices that are at a disadvantage of women. Although we have focused here on the DRC, examples of gender-based violence are to be found across the world. Let us not be silent about this and recognize that SGBV is not limited to SV!
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the Authors:
Carolien JacobsCarolien Jacobs is assistant professor at Leiden University, and conducts research in collaboration with the Social Science Centre for African Development-KUTAFITI.
Patrick Milabyo KyamusugulwaPatrick Milabyo Kyamusugulwa is Professor at the Institut Supérieur des Techniques Médicales de Bukavu, in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC). He is member of the DRC Humanitarian Observatory and member of the Social Science Centre for African Development-KUTAFITI.
Rachel Sifa KatemberaRachel Sifa Katembera is a researcher of the Social Science Centre for African Development-KUTAFITI and a member of the DRC Humanitarian Observatory.
This blog is based on empirical research conducted by the authors on access to justice in eastern DRC as part of the Just Future Alliance.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
This blog is part of the Humanitarian Governance: Accountability, Advocacy, Alternatives’ project. This project has received funding from the European Research Council (ERC) under the European Union’s Horizon 2020 research and innovation programme under grant agreement No. 884139
…so another one of these researches? Is this any different? You know we are tired of these scientists … imagine if the poor were to get at least half of the money that is spent in studying them, wouldn’t it be nice?
These were the frustrated words of Makini (pseudonym) during a community baraza targeting evidence-based slum upgrading of Mathare, Kenya’s third largest informal settlement. Makini, a resident of Mathare for over 50 years, voiced the disappointment felt by many who have been over-researched without commensurate societal benefit. In this blog post, Stephen Nyagaya , Beatrice Hati and Alice Menya discuss this case as a point of departure to advance the debate on research waste within social sciences.
Created by Bliss with AI
Informal settlements around the globe attract more appetite for exploration due to a complex nexus of wicked problems, emergent frugal novelties and new rhythms of development emerging in the informality context. In Nairobi, informal settlements house over 65 per cent of the city’s population and have experienced a fast-paced knowledge circus over the past three decades. While there is an uncontested need for research to inform development decisions and policy formulation, connecting this knowledge to community development and progressive action is still challenged. This phenomenon is what we discuss here as ‘research waste’.
Research waste: Not new, but still unacceptable!
The concept of research waste was first coined by medical statistician Douglas Altman in 1994, defining it as ‘research outcomes with no societal benefits’. This millennial concept dominates medical and clinical sciences but receives less attention in social sciences. Drawing on our experience, we argue that research is also wasteful if it lacks novelty, lacks relevance to a real-world gap and does not advance existing scholarship. We define research waste as ‘research that fails to yield societal benefits and lacks scientific value’. Research waste not only squanders tens of billions of dollars annually, but also contributes to research fatigue, perpetuates epistemic injustices and erodes public trust.
Every stage in a research ‘lifecycle’ is prone to waste, but the good news is that about 85 per cent of this waste is avoidable. Research waste arises from irrelevant rationales, flawed research designs, biased or poor reporting of results and methodologies and unpublished or poorly disseminated outputs. To further illustrate this point, we have outlined in Figure 1 below the various stages of research and practices that may (re)produce waste.
Figure 1: Practices producing research waste
Authors, 2024
The production of avoidable research waste is unethical practice. Researchers must navigate the research process conscientiously to strike a balance between scientific rigor, societal benefits and scholarly value. This negotiated middle ground is achievable through Community-Based Participatory Research (CBPR). CBPR offers a methodological framework that catalyses research value by repositioning community partnerships at the centre of three interrelated research goals: generating evidence, facilitating meaningful action and promoting engaged learning.
Research buzz in Mathare
Nairobi city is a home to over 4 million people and more than 100 informal settlements. It is estimated that 65 per cent of the city’s inhabitants live and work in these informal areas, which epitomize existing inequalities in the city. In Mathare, residents live in deplorable living conditions, epitomized by poor housing and basic services, overcrowding, pollution and insecurity of tenure that lingers with frequent threats of evictions.
The pervasive failure of the government to upgrade these living conditions is attractive to research, contributing to a ‘research buzz’. The findings from our data mapping show that approximately 300 research activities were conducted in Mathare in a decade. However, these activities failed to yield commensurate value for the community. For instance, our analysis shows that out of the 300 research entries, 31 of were related to ‘infrastructure and economy’ (see Figure 2), yet the community still lives in deplorable conditions characterized by overcrowded, makeshift structures that increase the risk of hazards such as fires, exacerbate inadequate access to clean water and poor sanitation, and limit access to reliable electricity amongst many other problems.
Figure 2: Research conducted in Mathare between 2013 & 2023 along research themes
Authors, 2024
A Mathare resident cited her frustration with research, noting the imminent failure of its implementation.
Then again the one who sent you, I don’t know the government, they have done a lot of research and none of it has ever been implemented….Why bring (research) yet they won’t implement, why take information, knowledge, sit somewhere and yet not implement? The next day the same information they took, someone uses it for their own benefit elsewhere. So they have done a lot of research in the community, not now, not yesterday but even in the past years and not one has been implemented…
Mathare residents have been exposed to multiple studies with limited novelty and duplicated research topics, leading to research fatigue and unmet expectations for societal change.
Helicopter research
Researchers enter informal settlements with pre-determined agendas, engage the community as research participants and leave with the bulk of the information without further engaging with the broader audience. Researchers use informal settlements as testing grounds for concepts while the community is relegated to the subordinate role of respondent. In other instances, community participation is romanticized and framed as ‘partnerships’ with tokenistic and ‘command-control’ approaches that replicate exclusion.
With ambiguous guidelines on conducting research in informal settlements, scientific and ethical procedures have been conflated into unclear practices that expose the participants to unfair treatment. In some cases, participants are influenced by monetary compensation, resulting to coercion and undue influence. In other cases, prior consent is not sought from the participants. Trust is eroded when there are no clear strategies for collaboration between researchers and the community. Additionally, poor sampling strategies contribute to biased participation. Ultimately, some studies are designed to serve researchers’ interests, rather than deliver societal benefits.
Towards a methodological framework
Knowledge should be co-created through fair collaboration between the community and scientific researchers to yield scientific rigor and societal development. The community-based participatory research (CBPR) framework provides a platform for knowledge co-creation by infusing local ingenuity with tools and techniques from scientific discipline.
The framework applies a bottom-up research process in which the research agenda, framed with communities, is scaled upwards. It proposes community participation in the entire research process, which translates into moving the community from being ‘research respondents’ to ‘research partners’. This approach allows for knowledge transfer to the community researchers through training and empowerment. The ten rules of CBPR, co-created with the Mathare community and dubbed ‘the ten commandments’, describe how researchers should co-create research ethics, establish rules of engagement and disseminate co-created knowledge to avoid waste. The following Figure 3 summarizes this framework.
Figure 3: The ‘ten commandments’
Authors, 2024
(1) Codesigning research agenda: Research should be framed together with community members, represented by community-based organizations (CBOs), groups or community researchers. These representatives help link research with local programmes that need urgent attention. The agenda should also align with themes of informality in literature.
(2) Seeking requisite consent: Researchers should seek prior permission from the research participants. This involves describing the research purpose, data collection methods and the intended outputs. Consent will help manage expectations and increase trust between the researcher and the community.
(3) Collaboration: Research with communities should, as much as possible, foster collaboration with community-led organizations. Collaboration ensures that knowledge is co-created with the community for empowerment and social action. The research proponents should further set long-term partnerships with the community with clear strategies for creating impact.
(4) Confidentiality and protection: Data collected from/with the community should be protected against destruction, loss or illegal access. Researchers should maintain confidentiality throughout the research process.
(5) Training community researchers: Community researchers are community members who live and work for the community. They engage in social work such as advocacy, activism, community health promotion, solid waste management, etc. When involved in research activities, they should be trained in research methods, ethics and dissemination strategies to foster learning and enhance research rigor.
(6) Data validation: Data collected from the community should be validated by the participants to ensure that it is devoid of errors and to determine whether the findings meet the intended objectives (avoiding data misuse).
(7) Acknowledge community input: The community should be acknowledged by mentioning its input and engaging it in various dissemination exercises such as dialogues, workshops or conferences. The community should be acknowledged and included as co-author in (academic) publications.
(8) Fair arrangements and equitable partnerships: Partnerships between the researchers and the community should be clearly stated with definite roles. This helps in building trust between the partners.
(9) Dissemination: Researchers should ensure that findings are shared with community members and other relevant stakeholders. Open data platforms that are accessible to the public and the broader community should be promoted. Researchers should encourage the use of dialogues, public forums or other engagement strategies to disseminate research information to a wider audience.
(10) Engage beyond research: Researchers should engage beyond mere scientific dissemination methods. Such activities include translating and vulgarizing research findings to be understood by the larger local audience, reaching out to development actors for implementation or lobbying for policy actions by the government.
Conclusion
This post fronts CBPR as a solution to mitigating research waste in urban informal settlements. While the need for research to inform societal development is uncontested, research waste should be prevented by designing research practices that sync with local priorities, foster knowledge exchange and enhance scientific value.
Notes:
The discussions presented in this blog post emanate from the project ‘Towards a framework for community-based participatory research in informal settlements: a pilot in Mathare, Nairobi-Kenya’ (2023). The project was funded by the LDE Global Support programme, supported by Vital Cities and Citizens and implemented in Nairobi by Nuvoni Center for Innovation Research and MSPARC (Mathare Special Planning Area Research Collective).
References
Balazs, C. L., & Morello-Frosch, R. (2013). The three Rs: How community-based participatory research strengthens the rigor, relevance, and reach of science. Environmental justice, 6(1), 9-16. https://www.liebertpub.com/doi/pdf/10.1089/env.2012.0017
Fransen, J., Hati, B., Nyumba, R., & van Tuijl, E. (2023). ‘Community vitality and frugal practices in informal settlements in Nairobi: Towards a typology’, Cities, 134(January), p. 104179. doi: 10.1016/j.cities.2022.104179.
Ouma, S. (2023). Participation as ‘city-making’: a critical assessment of participatory planning in the Mukuru Special Planning Area in Nairobi, Kenya. Environment & Urbanization, 35(2), 470-489.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the authors:
Stephen Nyagaya
Stephen Nyagaya is an urban planning and development researcher whose interests revolve around spatial injustices, participatory planning and urban informality. He is a Junior Research Associate at Nuvoni Centre for Innovation Research/International Centre for Frugal Innovation and was actively involved in the CBPR project.
Beatrice Hati
Beatrice Hati is a pracademic specializing in people-centred urbanism and resilience. She is currently pursuing a doctoral degree in multilevel disaster governance at ISS while simultaneously serving as an urban development and research associate at the International Centre for Frugal Innovation (Kenya Hub).
Alice Menya
Alice Menya is Head of Programmes at Nuvoni Centre for Innovation Research/International Centre for Frugal Innovation-Kenya Hub.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
In this blog, IHSA Board Member and Humanitarian Practitioner (CARE) Carla Vitantonio considers the role of decoloniality, power structures, and humanitarian values. In order to truly affect a ‘decolonial turn’ within the humanitarian sector, it is necessary to first reconsider humanitarian principles, who’s knowledge matters, and the need to transform the discussion into a pluralist discourse. This contribution was given as a reflection upon the first Annual IHSA Lecture that took place in Bergen, Norway, in May 2024, and is part of a series around the theme ‘War and Humanity’.
Source: Lane Hartwell ,Wikimedia Commons
“War and humanity”. Before attending the first IHSA annual lecture I interrogated myself on how I could contribute to this debate. I am a humanitarian professional, and in the past years I have been increasingly engaged in the debate around the decolonization of our sector. The focus is usually especially on resources: the colonial matrix of power has not changed, and resources are still placed in the hands of the so called global north, and we need a shift to a more equitable system. We praise the various attempts to achieve this. The most famous is perhaps the Pledge for Change, led by Adesso and joined by some of the biggest Northern INGOs. But at the same time, I, and many like me, are asking ourselves: is it possible to shift the power and the resources, without changing the full structure? It is the same question that some decolonial movements asked their own governments: are we decolonizing, or are we simply de-westernizing our structure? Are we not keeping the system as it is, by simply choosing a different elite to govern us?
And so, while many are rightly working on a shift of power and resources, some ask: what about the principles, the theory behind the full humanitarian structure? What about the knowledge that informs our sector?
Reconsidering humanitarian values: decoloniality, independence, and universality
My personal belief is that to ignite a decolonial turn in humanitarian action we also need to look at our principles. My generation of humanitarian professionals grew with the assumptions that the humanitarian principles were the unconfutable base of our job: all our action needs to be based on humanity, impartiality, independence, and neutrality.
The only accepted debate was around the principle of independence, increasingly questioned by those NGOs that rejected some important funding or pulled out of an emergency response in the name of their independence. The NGO MSF did it twice: pulling out of North Korea in 1998 and renouncing its EU funding in 2016 due to EU interference in the Syrian migration crisis. But otherwise, humanitarian principles were considered universal.
The problem when concepts are considered universal lays often in ‘the who’. Who considers them universal? Usually in our case, a full class of humanitarian professionals and scholars, all educated in institutions located in the Global North, or located in the South but replicating the North’s structures.
The “universalization” of certain knowledge is one form of coloniality of knowledge. It is one of the outcomes of the oppression perpetrated through colonization. The knowledge imposed as universal was in reality created by the dominant European Culture, with other forms of knowledge subjugated.
This assumption shaped a fictitious epistemological hierarchy, and affected all realms of life, from education to governance. Humanitarianism as we know it today was shaped by and in the Global North, and as such it was proposed/imposed as a universal solution to certain problems in the world. This Global North is composed of the same countries that colonized, oppressed, and often contributed to create the issues that humanitarian actors are trying to alleviate.
The limits of humanitarian principles: staying neutral in the face of atrocity
We see the limits of the humanitarian principles in the application of some of them in certain contexts. In 2017/2018, when the genocide of the Rohingya in Myanmar started, I was the country director for an INGO involved in humanitarian response. I participated into all relevant meetings, especially to those extraordinary meetings organized in the first month after the genocide started.
While hundreds of thousands of people were obliged to flee, many of them dying during the night because of assaults on their houses, and others dying on their way to Bangladesh, many of us were meeting and honestly concerned by the impossibility of providing humanitarian assistance while staying “neutral”.
The flag of humanitarian principles and their “universality” creates an illusion of being neutral. This neutrality is a mirage of coloniality. Neutrality entails the assumption that we, the humanitarian workers, are able to extract ourselves from the context, that we look at the world on fire from somewhere above. This is a manifestation of the Eurocentric belief that we don’t belong here, that we belong somewhere better. This ‘somewhere better’ is sometimes physically embodied by the places where we meet and debate. But as soon as we step into the context we are the context, we have an impact on the context, we change the context. And here we have the great support of all the decolonial and feminist scholarship that drive us to understand that we need to find a solution to the illusion of neutrality, because our locus of enunciation matters.
Could we find solutions to this? If we want to approach this issue from a decolonial perspective, we should not only tell the story in a different way, but we should start telling a different story. In other words, perhaps shifting power and resources within the actors of a structure that remains unchanged is not enough.
A new pluralist discourse
Today the humanitarian discourse is still highly controlled by the hegemonic narrative of certain Global North actors and organisations. As it has been said by many, we need to transform the humanitarian discourse into a pluralist discourse. What does it mean? It is not easily done but I have two suggestions: the first is to look at the deep implications of the Do No Harm approach (DNH), which is at the core of humanitarian action and acknowledges the agency of those we are going to support. Looking at DNH from this perspective and not from a purely procedural and bureaucratic one (accountability) is already a step forward, because it helps reflexivity (reflecting on our own positionality).
A second suggestion is that we open spaces where we talk about the consequences of this assumption of universality, linked to the supposed neutrality of humanitarian action. Spaces within our own organizations, spaces that we can consider safe. We need to talk about this, among practitioners, but I dare saying, above all among donors.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the Author
Carla Vitantonio
Carla Vitantonio has worked in the humanitarian sector in multiple positions for over 20 years, including as a country director and subject expert for organisations like Handicap International, CARE and OI. Carla has coordinated humanitarian responses and programmes in Cuba, North Korea and Myanmar, and has researched alongside universities including the Vrije Universiteit Brussel and the European University Institute. She is the author of “Living decoloniality” a podcast focused on practices of decoloniality in the NGO sector. She was elected as an IHSA Board Member in 2022.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
On 17 October 2024, together with colleagues from various EUR faculties, another Teach-In was organized at the EUR Woudestein campus to address Israel’s aggression in Palestine and Lebanon. In this blog post, Isabel Awad and Jeff Handmaker reflect on the urgency of the current moment and the responsibilities of academics and educational institutions to respond.
Image by Authors
Frustration at a lack of accountability and inaction
There is a palpable frustration across the EUR about the genocidal violence perpetrated by Israel and the absence of accountability for its actions, either from its international partners or via international mechanisms. The violence has directly affected our own academic colleagues/students, and their families. Their steadfastness has inspired us to keep this issue on the EUR agenda.
These latest developments have shaken our universities directly. On November 14, a nationwide protest in Utrecht against the Dutch government’s budget cuts in education was cancelled by the trade unions, following unsubstantiated allegations that a pro-Palestinian organization would threaten the safety of protestors. Student unions held a protest after all, facilitated by the Utrecht municipality, and drawing at least 1000 participants. The protest not only took place without any incidents, but was extended to also cover the right to protest. This, and other recent events have exacerbated the frustrations we observed during the Teach-In of October 17. They also underscore the need to process on-going horrors critically, avoiding moral equivalence and relativism. As humans, it is important to see the humanity in others, certainly without normalisation, and without “both siding” the conflict.
Amplifying a Palestinian and Lebanese narrative
The main speaker at the 17 October event was Rima Rassi, a lecturer of Sociology at American University in Beirut and also a doctoral student at the ISS-EUR. She joined us online.
Rima shared insights into her current reality, living under lockdown in Beirut with her family. She highlighted Israel’s massive escalation of violence in Gaza and Lebanon, including bombings, missile attacks and ground invasions.
As numerous scholars had warned already back in October 2023, Rima underscored how “we are witnessing ethnic cleansing and genocide in real time, streamed through the small bright screens of our smartphones, recorded through tweets and Instagram reels and TikTok videos”.
She quoted Lina Mounzer, a Lebanese writer: “we have discovered the extent of our dehumanization to such a degree that it’s impossible to function in the world in the same way”.
Rima’s powerful presentation made clear that understanding and amplifying the grossly under-represented Palestinian and Lebanese narrative is crucial.
As the ICJ reiterated in a 2024 Opinion, which built on its earlier, 2004 Opinion, in this context there are clear responsibilities, not just for Israel, but for all statesin responding to these atrocities. Moreover, as the ICJ has authoritatively underscored, there is a responsibility for all states, particularly those who have been lending diplomatic, financial and military support, to end their complicity and to hold Israel accountable.
Universities in the West cannot ignore the widespread destruction in Gaza including the killing of dozens of professors as well as hundreds of students and the destruction of university buildings and infrastructure. As we highlighted in an earlier Teach In with Dr. Maya Wind, we are witnessing a “scholasticide”, aimed at the total destruction of higher educational capacity in Gaza.
With empathy for the unimaginable suffering being experienced, those within the EUR community have checked-in on each other, and in particular those we know from Israel, Palestine and Lebanon. And we have centered the voices of Palestinians, which are so frequently silenced by the media, by the academy and by governments.
Students organised an encampment, renaming the space in front of the food court as Shireen Abu Akleh square, to honour the Al Jazeera journalist who was killed by the Israeli military in 2022. This renamed square on the Woudestein campus has been a frequent spot for protests and commemorations of all kinds. Events have been held on all four of our campuses: the Erasmus Medical Centre, EUC, ISS and on Campus Woudestein.
We also note how EUR has established an Advisory Committee on Sensitive Collaborations, which has yet to take a definitive decision in relation to the University’s partnerships with Israeli institutions and complicit companies. The Committee’s chair attended the 17 October event.
Who spoke, and who did not
Rassi’s talk received a standing ovation. In-depth responses to her talk came from an expert panel of EUR academics from Sociology (Dr. Irene van Oorschot), Law (Dr. Federica Violi), Epidemiology (Dr. Layal Chaker) and Media and Communication (Dr. Isabel Awad). These four EUR scholars underscored the importance of learning from Palestinian and Lebanese voices and of finding ways to turn knowledge into collective action against the ongoing genocide. ISS’ Dr. Jeff Handmaker moderated.
Two speakers from Birzeit University, a longstanding partner university of the EUR, were also scheduled to speak to us through Zoom. These were Ghaied Hijaz, a student and activist with the Right2Education Campaign and Dr Amal Nazzal, an Assistant Professor in the Business Administration and Marketing Department.
As organizers, we considered Hijaz and Nazzal closely connected to EUR, given their affiliation with an EUR partner institution. However, EUR administrators informed us that they were “external guests” who needed security clearance to speak at EUR, a process that required additional time. By the day of the event, only one of the Birzeit speakers was “cleared”. Out of protest and solidarity, the other speaker decided not to participate. The absence of their voices added to the frustration in the room about the frequent silencing of Palestinian perspectives in Dutch society.
Vigil
To close the event, as we did in a previous gathering remembering academics in Gaza who had been killed, a vigil was held to remember and pay tribute to the now more than 40.000 Palestinians killed, including more than 14.000 children. Together, at the Shireen Abu Akleh square, we lay flowers, and collectively recited a poem by Professor Refaat Alareer, formerly of Islamic University of Gaza who was killed in an Israeli airstrike on 6 December 2023, “If I Must Die”:
If I must die,
you must live
to tell my story
to sell my things
to buy a piece of cloth
and some strings,
(make it white with a long tail)
so that a child, somewhere in Gaza
while looking heaven in the eye
awaiting his dad who left in a blaze—
and bid no one farewell
not even to his flesh
not even to himself—
sees the kite, my kite you made, flying up above
and thinks for a moment an angel is there
bringing back love
If I must die
let it bring hope
let it be a tale.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the authors:
Isabel Awad
Dr. Isabel Awad is Associate Professor in the Erasmus School of History, Culture and Communication.
Jeff Handmaker
Dr. Jeff Handmaker is Associate Professor in the International Institute of Social Studies, both at Erasmus University Rotterdam.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
On 15 May 2024, US Congressman Wiley Nickel introduced House Resolution 1230, which addresses long-standing grievances of the Tamil community. Endorsed by over 50 Tamil diaspora organisations worldwide, the resolution symbolises hope amid frustration over Sri Lanka’s lack of accountability. Although its path to becoming law is uncertain, the resolution reflects shifting geopolitical dynamics and marks a significant moment in US policy regarding the Tamil diaspora’s pursuit of self-determination. With a new president in place, Sri Lanka may also have the opportunity to reshape its approach to the Tamil question. In this blog, Shyamika Jayasundara-Smits delves into the potential impacts and wider implications of this resolution.
On 15 May 2024, US Congressman Wiley Nickel introduced House Resolution 1230, marking the latest congressional effort to address the long-standing grievances of the Tamil people. The resolution recognises the hundreds of thousands of lives lost during Sri Lanka’s nearly 30-year long armed conflict. It also seeks to ensure nonrecurrence of past violence, including the Tamil Genocide, by supporting the right to self-determination of Eelam Tamil people and their call for an independence referendum.
The resolution received moderate partisan support and was endorsed by over 50 Tamil diaspora organisations across fifteen countries who have been working to advance the Tamils’ quest for justice and self-determination. House Resolution 1230 certainly boosted the morale of the global human rights community and the Tamil diaspora, who have grown increasingly frustrated with Sri Lanka’s lack of accountability and have been torn between hope and despair under different US administrations and their allies.
The resolution emerged as the United States faces global scrutiny over its complicity in Israel’s genocidal violence in Gaza and for dragging its support in implementing a two-state solution. The resolution, though important for Tamils, underscores the double standards in US policy regarding justice and accountability for war crimes. While the demand for justice for Tamils is stronger than ever, the Tamil diaspora cannot expect much from the United States or most liberal Western states, given their diminishing moral authority.
House Resolution 1230 is a step forward in advancing the February 2023 declaration issued by six major US-based Tamil organisations urging the government to do the ‘right thing’. Dr Murugiah Muraleetharan — President of the Federation of Global Tamil Organizations — shared that ‘only by serving justice to the Tamils and returning their sovereignty, can peace and stability be established in the region. A permanent solution is important, and Independence Referendum is the democratic, peaceful and correct approach’.
Both the 2023 and 2024 resolutions clearly advocate for an internationally monitored independence referendum for Eelam Tamils, echoing the 1976 Vaddukoddai resolution introduced by Tamil political elites in Sri Lanka. The new resolution adopts a maximalist approach by reigniting hopes of securing an independent state. This approach can be viewed as a tactical manoeuvre within the current geopolitical landscape, which may not favour such a drastic measure. Instead, it seeks to advance achievable goals, such as addressing justice grievances, returning of land, promoting regional economic development and ensuring human rights.
One pertinent issue is how much pressure diaspora groups can exert on the United States and its allies to ensure Sri Lanka complies with human rights laws and is held accountable. This is especially crucial amid current US–China geopolitical contestations in the Indian Ocean, where Sri Lanka is viewed as an important ally to deter China’s influence.
Since the defeat of the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam in May 2009 by the Government of Sri Lanka’s armed forces, a number of House Resolutions have been introduced. These have been accompanied by high-profile US-backed UNHCR resolutions calling for a credible investigation into possible war crimes committed by the state armed forces and the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam. But these efforts have been overlooked by Sri Lankan authorities.
Continued pressure from Tamil diaspora groups has encouraged some progress under the Biden administration, which imposed personal sanctions on four senior Sri Lankan military officials between 2020 and 2022.
Given the history and lifespans of resolutions introduced in Congress regarding Sri Lanka, the new resolution shows slim chances of proceeding to the next stages required to become law. This limits its potential to demand binding action from the Sri Lankan state. Despite this potential outcome, receiving the US Congress’s acknowledgment and support holds symbolic significance for the Tamil diaspora.
As the United States prepares to elect its next president, the outcome will also impact the fate of the new resolution and US interest in human rights in Sri Lanka. The resolution will have a better chance of progressing under a Harris presidency, which may signify a continuation of the Biden administration’s policies.
During a 2018 parliamentary debate, Dissanayake compared his party, the Janatha Vimukthi Peramuna, now part of his ruling coalition, to the Tamil National Alliance. He pointed out that both parties represented people in the south and north who have suffered the most under a repressive state.
Meanwhile, India, a regional US ally, has already signalled its commitment to finding a lasting solution to the Tamil issue through power devolution within a united Sri Lanka. This was highlighted during Indian Foreign Minister Jaishankar’s visit shortly after President Dissanayake assumed office. The new president has expressed similar views to that of India. Dissanayake’s success in the November 2024 parliamentary elections will be pivotal for advancing these efforts, as both domestic and diaspora Tamil groups are well-positioned to shape these developments.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the Author:
Shyamika Jayasundara-Smits
Shyamika Jayasundara-Smits is an Assistant Professor in conflict and peace studies at the International Institute of Social Studies (ISS), Erasmus University, Rotterdam.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
Developing countries join cross-border production networks called global value chains to drive their economic growth and encourage job creation. But the gains from global value chain participation aren’t guaranteed, do not happen automatically, and vary widely. In this blog article, ISS PhD graduate and visiting researcher Gina Ledda discusses the heterogeneity or diversity in the global value chain experience of developing countries and highlights the importance of taking stock and assessing key factors of participation. The new analytical tool Constant Value Added Share Analysis (CVAS) facilitates the measurement and analysis of global value chain participation.
Developing and advanced countries participate in the cross-border, multi-staged production of goods and services called global value chains. Policy makers generally view global value chains as opportunities for developing countries to participate in international trade and reap advantages such as increased employment, higher incomes, and a boost in economic growth. The problem, however, is that the evidence of beneficial effects to joining global value chains is mixed. This blog article argues for a more nuanced perspective and a first step to evaluate participation.
Global value chains or international production networks started in the manufacturing industries when firms from advanced countries, mainly multinationals, began offshoring some segments of their production process. In the 1980s, the initial movement to locate production activities elsewhere was mainly to take advantage of lower labor costs in developing countries. This fragmentation model of production proved successful and was replicated in other manufacturing and service sectors – more recently to digital services like video games – such that many goods and services consumed locally are practically made in the world.
While involvement in global value chains could potentially foster growth in developing countries, heterogeneous or varied global value chain participation poses a formidable hurdle (Ledda 2023). Even though developing and advanced countries are involved in the same global value chain, their roles are dissimilar. Large multinationals initiate the global value chain, select the firms that join, and assign tasks. This asymmetry of power, the focus of global value chain governance, can hamper the movement of a developing country from low to higher value tasks known as upgrading. Upgrading through product, process or functional improvements is usually needed to sustain growth within global value chains but can be difficult to achieve. Lead firms are not keen to transfer the core technology and skills that define their roles and supplier firms may struggle to absorb and build on these higher-value inputs. The typical global value chain model seen in Figure 1 shows developing countries mostly in the lower-value production segment and advanced countries in higher-value tasks in the pre-production (product design, R&D, and branding) and post-production (distribution, retail, and marketing) segments.
Source of information: WTO 2021. Figure by the author.
Another important consideration is that reaping advantages from global value chain participation depends on a complex interplay of internal factors including resource endowments, geographical location, institutions, market, innovation and absorptive capacity for technology, inter-country agreements, and trade and investment regulation. A country’s ability and flexibility to adjust these drivers impact on the effectivity of its participation and present a challenge for government policy coordination and development strategies. The resulting diversity in country responses to these challenges contributes further to the mixed scorecard of beneficial outcomes.
With all these dynamics to consider, how does a developing country benefit from global value chain participation? We argue that the first step is to take stock and assess participation through quantitative and qualitative methods. Our article, Van Bergeijk and Ledda 2024 introduces Constant Value Added Share (CVAS) analysis which is a novel reinterpretation of constant market share analysis, a well-known tool that examines the underlying reasons for a country’s export performance. We use the latest trade in value added data (OECD TiVA 2023) for the years 1995-2020 to measure the value added by each country in global value chains. Applying CVAS analysis to the Philippines, we identified a loss of competitiveness in the computer and electronics sector and emerging sectoral strength in technology-related business services, results that are unclear using the traditional approach and aggregated gross export data. We argue that Constant Value Added Share analysis is useful for assessing the global value chain involvement of other developing countries and can help identify where adjustments can be made towards more gainful participation.
To be fair, a number of developing countries have experienced benefits from global value chain participation. However, global value chains are not static and are changing especially in this post-pandemic era. It remains true that global value chain engagement can be unequally advantageous for participants. An assessment of current participation is a solid first step to ensure that integration into the global economy through value chains supports the pursuit of a country’s sustainable development goals.
References
Ledda, Gina M. 2023. Heterogeneous Participation of Developing Countries in Global Value Chains. Ph.D. thesis, International Institute of Social Studies, Erasmus University Rotterdam, The Hague, The Netherlands.
van Bergeijk, Peter A.G., and Gina M. Ledda. 2024. “Constant Value Added Share Analysis: A Novel Trade Decomposition Technique with an Application to the Philippines” Economies 12, no. 7: 173. https://doi.org/10.3390/economies12070173
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the author:
Gina Ledda has a PhD in development economics from the International Institute of Social Studies (ISS), Erasmus University Rotterdam. She conducts research on global supply chains, digital services and technologies, international trade and competitiveness, and sustainable development. She has worked in a policy research think tank, consulted for government, taught economics at the master’s and undergraduate levels, and is currently a visiting researcher at the ISS.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
In this blog, members of the Humanitarian Observatory Initiative South Asia (HOISA) including Anisa Abeytia, Shanyal Uqaili, Mihir Bhatt and Khayal Trivedi consider the applications of AI and other emerging technologies for humanitarian action. With UNHCR and other organisations adopting AI-enhanced planning, mapping, and prediction tools, what are some of the ethical dilemmas and challenges posed for tech-enabled humanitarian action? How can we make sure that humanitarian principles are kept to by non-human actors? And what is ‘responsible AI’?
The use of digital and emerging technologies such as artificial intelligence in the humanitarian sector is not new. Since the advent of these technologies, particularly in the last two decades, the sector has gone through several transitions as data collection, storage, and data processing have become increasingly available and sophisticated. However, the recent contemporary advances in computational power, along with ‘big data’ now at the disposal of the public and private sector has allowed for a widespread and pervasive use of these digital technologies in every sphere of human life – notably also in humanitarian contexts. AI, quite rapidly, is reshaping the humanitarian sector with projects such as Project Jetson by UNHCR, AI supported mapping for an emergency response in Mozambique, AI chatbots for displaced populations, and more besides.
Humanitarian workers therefore must pose the following questions. How can responsible AI along with emerging technology be used for humanitarian action? And what are the priority areas and conditions that the humanitarian sector should put forth while employing these technologies? And does emerging technology present any ethical challenges for the sector?
There is an enormous potential in AI technology, with its ability to predict events and results that can help in international humanitarian action. With the rate at which disasters and conflicts are increasing in the past few years, the humanitarian sector particularly in terms of funding, is simply not at par in providing the relief and responses to the degree that the world requires1. In this light, strengthening disaster resilience and risk reduction by building community resilience through initiatives such as better early warning systems become crucial.
Case Study: Using AI to forecast Seismic Activity
A study using hybrid methodologies was conducted to develop a model that could forecast seismic activity in the region of Gazientep, Türkiye (bordering Syria). The system was trained using the data gathered after the massive 7.8 magnitude earthquake in early 2023, which was then followed by more than 4,300 minor tremors. To create the algorithm, key dimensions and indicators such as social, economic, institutional and infrastructural capacity from open-source websites, were identified. During the research, two regional states were identified to have extremely low resilience to earthquakes. Incidentally, this area is also home to a large number of Syrian refugees. After gathering two years of seismic data from more than 250 geographers on the ground and other open sources, two Convolutional Neural Network models were applied
that could predict 100 data points (with 93% accuracy) in future, which is amounts to about 10 seconds in future, . The study underlines the regional challenges in data collection. Several indicators were omitted due to the absence of openly availability data. This highlights the influence of power asymmetry, which allows for biased results and conclusions, thereby pushing researchers away from new understandings. A case-in-point, data pertaining to areas/neighborhoods where Syrian refugees reside was not gathered and thus excluded by default from the research findings. Despite these political challenges, there is great potential in this technology when provided with relevant data sets. AI becomes the model it is trained to be and therefore it is important to have a complete a data set to prevent reproducing real world/human biases
Fears of techno-colonialism and Asymmetric Power Structures
This case highlights the need for transparent, complete, and bias-free data sets, which remain a challenge in most parts of the world. Further, who owns these data sets? Who oversees data collection and training, and what is omitted? As AI and various deep learning methodologies transform our world, fears of techno-colonialism, techno-solutionism and surveillance are omnipresent.
Today’s post-colonial world, that in fact continues to carry forward colonial power hierarchies albeit in a new setting with changed roles, is ridden with inequalities. And these inequalities and pre-existing biases both in data and in people, are then transferred to the AI because of the way it is being (or not being) trained. Even ‘creative’ AI tools are still a conglomeration of the data that they are trained on.
AI and deep learning methodologies are tools that can be targeted to provide a solution. They require input of data, and if the data carries bias or racism to some degree then the output will also reflect that2. Questions such as, who is training the AI, what funds are being used, and who is the recipient of the effort, become critical to answer. Unfortunately, very few companies and countries in the world have the capacity to create data sets that train AI. These are often large conglomerates that work for profit in a capitalist ideology where a human centered approach is at best secondary. The decision power therefore lies in the hands of few, thereby forming a new form of colonialism.
Is AI then a tool or a medium to keep the status quo (of power structures)? Because if the few people in power, driven by capitalism, are invested in maintaining the power structures, then how will AI be of help in decisions about resource allocation? This points also to the much-needed democratization of AI and these tools. The human centric AI otherwise will remain a paradox.
Looking at Responsible AI and humanitarian principles
Can we employ AI that does no harm? For AI and similar tools to therefore be viable and inclusive, one must ensure transparency and inclusion in data gathering that forms the data sets. This requires conscious effort that is not technology driven, rather policy driven that invites people with diverse thought processes from diverse communities and especially minorities and vulnerable populations to be in a position of action and not just participate. One way is to rethink the humanitarian sector and its functioning. The other is to have a more community centered approach while thinking of AI applications, as James Landay puts it. He describes that in a community centered approach, the members of the community discuss and decide how and which resources must be allocated to what, according to their own priorities and needs. This method stands in contrast to the top-down politics, where communities are merely seen as consumers or beneficiaries.
Drawing from Edward Soja’s theory, Anisa Abeytia (2023) distinguishes and adds a fourth sphere or space to the already formed three-layer model by Soja, which Abeytia argues to be relevant in the use of AI.
According to the model, “Firstspace” is the geographic location that includes human, non-human (living and nonliving) entities and environments. “Secondspace” is our communal areas (library, schools, etc.). “Thirdspace” is the liminal landscape – the way people accept or reject ideas and technologies such as their apprehensions and fear to new transitions and change. And lastly, Abeytia adds a Fourthspace to represent the digital world which is as real as physical geographies today. An important rubric to measure viability of an AI application is how it will affect each of these spaces – the personal, the communal, the transitional and the digital space. For example, we can witness the use of AI affecting all four spaces in the project run by University of Utah and a refugee resettlement agency that used Virtual Reality (VR) headsets as a reception and resettlement tool to assist refugees to integrate into American societies.
Survey: What are the needs of the sector?
As members of the humanitarian sector, we must strive to develop our own solutions to the challenges we face, ensuring inclusivity for all. The identification of these challenges should also come from within the sector itself. Recently, a survey was conducted among key stakeholders to identify areas where AI could make a significant contribution. The most commonly highlighted areas of interest were as follows:
● Can AI assist in creating bias free intelligence that improves victim-state relationship with others?
● Can AI be utilized in measuring intolerance and widening hatred between communities, thereby causing riots such as in the UK and South Asia?
● Can AI provide guidance in identifying uncertainties of risks and resilience, along with humanitarian action insights that we have not spotted?
● Can AI conduct contribution analysis for impact evaluation?
● How to employ AI to identify methods of empowerment in decision making and developing strategies to offer universal humanitarian assistance?
● How can we harness the power of AI in analyzing epidemic preparedness and response improvement in health crises like monkeypox or Covid?
It is essential to actively investigate the use of AI and emerging technologies across the identified spheres. Efforts to make AI more equitable should include advocating for inclusive methodologies, creating transparent and diverse data sets, and amplifying the voices of Indigenous, marginalized and vulnerable populations.
While working towards more equitable systems, several critical questions arise: How can these projects be funded? Are they viable in a landscape where only a fraction of resources reaches those in need? What is the carbon footprint of developing AI and deep learning tools? How can Indigenous knowledge from resilient communities be integrated into AI systems? Each of these issues warrants thorough discussion, and every major humanitarian organization should address them.
Further reading:
Tom L. Beauchamp and James F. Childress, Principles of Biomedical Ethics, 8th ed., Oxford University Press, Oxford, 2019; Luciano Floridi and Josh Cowls, “A Unified Framework of Five Principles for AI in Society”, Harvard Data Science Review, Vol. 1, No. 1, 2019.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
In August 2024, the Laotian Timesalarmingly wrote about a ‘record low’ in candidates registering for the entrance exams of the National University of Laos (NUoL).It attributed thedeclineto rising living expenses (over 2023 there was a 31.2 % increase in consumer prices in Lao PDR) and low prospects of finding gainful employment in the domestic labour market following university graduation.Without dismissing these reasons, in this blog piece Roy Huijsmans puts the current ‘record low’ in broader perspective by asking what has been happening to higher education in Laos and in relation to whom?
Laos’ higher education landscape is relatively small and young. Following the establishment of the Lao People’s Democratic Republic (Lao PDR) in 1975, the communist regime prioritised basic education for the masses because tertiary education is relatively costly and a much less egalitarian public investment. For (re)building a tertiary educated professional class the newly established, yet cash-strapped, Lao PDR largely depended on its socialist allies.(1) In the period 1976-1980, more than half of the in total 4,603 Laotian students pursuing education beyond secondary level did so abroad in countries part of the, then, Soviet Block.
An education reform paved the ground for the (re)establishment (2) of the National University of Laos (NUoL) in 1996. There was also an increase in Laotian students pursuing higher education domestically; partly forced due to the collapse of the Soviet Block and associated scholarships. Over the period 1996-99 the number of Laotian students in higher education nearly doubled (15,634, compared to 8,635 in 1991-95) whereas those doing so abroad increased only marginally (from 995 to 1,101).
At present, NUoL has remained Laos’ most prominent university despite the establishment of additional public universities, and the rapid growth in private higher education institutes. Total enrolment in Laos’ public universities stood at 45,677 in 2008 (36,706 enrolled at NUoL). By 2008, 86 private higher education institutes were active in Lao PDR, enrolling a total of 20,000 students in 2007 (up from 4,000 in 2000). Still, enrolment at tertiary level has remained low at 12 per cent in 2021 (1.14 gender parity) following an all-times high of 19 per cent in 2012.(3)
In Laos, seats available for university enrolment are set top-down. Once announced, secondary school graduates can register for entrance exams. Registration can be done online, yet the actual exam must be taken in person. Because of quota set for several groups (women, ethnic minority groups), some students enter university regardless of taking (or passing) the entrance exam.(4)
Piecing together various data sources , Table 1 shows that the number of candidates taking the 2024 NUoL entrance exam was indeed very low and even lower than 2021-22 Covid affected year. Table 1 further shows a gradual decline in the enrolment quota since 2020-21. Whereas the drop in ‘demand’ has received ample attention in Lao media, the opposite is true for the apparent reduced ‘supply’. It is also unclear if this NUoL trend is also reflected in enrolment trends of private higher education institutes in Lao PDR, or alternatively whether we see a shift from public to private higher education or into other forms of public education.(5)
Table 1: NUoL student figures 2015-2024
Pursuing higher education abroad has remained common in segments of the Laotian population. Yet, destinations and conditions have changed remarkably since the revolutionary days. Lao PDR ranks second on the list of international students studying in China (and many doing so on a Chinese government scholarship), others pursue higher education in Australia, the USA, Japan or in Europe, sometimes on scholarships of the host-country but not-uncommonly also self-financed reflecting the presence a class of super-rich. This latter group is relatively unaffected by the rising cost of living.
For 2023, the World Bank calculated a 31.2 per cent increase in consumer prices in Lao PDR, following a 23 per cent increase for 2022. This has contributed to putting higher education out of the financial reach of the (lower) middle class in particular. In fact, increasingly Laotian students are leaving formal schooling prematurely. The total number of students taking the secondary year 4 exam dropped from 83,544 in 2022 to 68,850 in 2023 (-18%), while for the final secondary school exam (year 7) the number declined from 55,828 in 2022 to 50,276 in 2023 (-10%). Additionally, there is low prospects for gainful employment in Lao PDR following higher education graduation. This has been a challenge for long, including large numbers of young Laotian working across the border in Thailand. Perhaps what has changed most profoundly is the rise in technology related earning possibilities in the Lao PDR, ranging from platform-mediated food-delivery and ride-sharing work to using social media platforms for commercial activities, including in rural areas.
In sum, the ‘record low’ in NUoL entrance registrations is likely because of young people of (lower) middle class background (including ethnic minorities) discontinuing their studies confronted by two intersecting realities. First, due to rising cost of living completing secondary schooling and pursuing higher education has become a substantially larger financial challenge. Second, there is easily accessible migrant work and a rise in domestic income earning opportunities. Both do not require higher education and contribute to reducing some immediate financial pressures. Against such a background, a call for more scholarships to ensure that Laotian higher education remains accessible also for those with fewer financial means is unlikely to make much of a difference.
Endnotes
During the 1970s about 10 per cent of the population of what is now Lao PDR fled the country, among them many of the higher educated elite.
Following the communist take-over in 1975, Sisavangvong University in Vientiane (established in 1958 by the Royal Lao Government) was dissolved into various colleges.
World Bank data show a gross enrolment rate for primary schooling of 97 per cent in 2022 (0.97 gender parity) and an all-times high of 122 per cent in 2012. For secondary education, the gross enrolment rate was 57 per cent in 2022 (0.95 gender parity) and an all-times high of 66 per cent in 2017 and 2018.
Government resolutions seek to channel students into shorter, and cheaper ‘courses at vocational training schools’ in ‘priority fields’ (Vientiane Times, p2, 28 July 2023). Yet the scale of these initiatives is unclear.
From the academic year 2020-2021, there are more than 16,700 students who registered for the online exam, but more than 14,000 people came to the real exam, among which the university plans to enroll more than 9,000 students in all system.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the Author:
Roy Huijsmans
Roy Huijsmans is a teacher and researcher at the International Institute of Social Studies, Erasmus University Rotterdam. His research focuses on the role of young people in processes of development and change.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
In this blog, IHSA Vice-President and Senior Research Fellow at the Food Studies Centre at SOAS (University of London) Susanne Jaspars summarises and expands upon a contribution to the roundtable that followed the inaugural IHSA Annual Lecture on “War and Humanity” held in Bergen in May 2024. The blog was prepared with the help of Tamer Abd Elkreem and information gathered from their research project on the effects of digitalising food assistance.
War causes famine through acts that undermine the means of survival of particular population groups. This includes acts of commission such as attacks on production, markets, restriction of access for humanitarian actors, and the obstruction of relief. Also acts of omission such as failures to act in response to warnings or signs of famine, and acts of provision: the selective provision of food to one side of the conflict. These tactics can be part of counter-insurgency operations but also yield benefits for some. For example from being able to sell food at high prices and buy livestock at low cost, or use cheap labour from displaced populations.
Legal frameworks such as International Humanitarian law (IHL) and International Criminal Law (ICL), specify starvation as a crime: ‘It is prohibited to attack, destroy, remove or render useless objects indispensable to the survival of the civilian population […] for the specific purpose of denying them for their sustenance … whether in order to starve out civilians, to cause them to move away, or for any other motive’. The crime of starvation includes wilfully obstructing humanitarian aid. The term “objects indispensable to survival” includes more than food, encompassing water installations and supplies, irrigation works, medicine, clothing, shelter, fuel, and electricity. There is no pre-defined list as items indispensable to survival are evolving and context dependant.
Also, in 2018, the UN Security Council unanimously adopted resolution 2417 which condemns the use of starvation as a method of warfare against civilians and emphasised that it may constitute a war crime. I would like to discuss this a little further, in particular:
How does reporting and accountability for starvation crimes work in practice?
The Food and Agricultural Organisation (FAO) and the World Food Programme (WFP) report twice yearly to the UN Security Council (UNSC) on Resolution 2417. The UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA) can also write closed White Papers to the UNSC and individual donors (like FCDO or the EU) too. But how is this being operationalised? What and how are FAO and WFP reporting? What are some of the obstacles?
Consider the February 2024 FAO/WFP report to the Security Council on Gaza and Sudan – which is remarkably apolitical. The report states the facts on displacement, impact on food systems, and obstruction of humanitarian access, and then what is prohibited under IHL. However, these are mostly passive statements such as:
‘Unprecedented levels of conflict-induced displacement … have occurred.’
‘Civilian infrastructure has been damaged (water, fuel, electricity, bakeries, farms)’
‘Conflict has halted production, prices have increased’
‘Humanitarian aid has been restricted’
‘Hostilities have led to telecoms blackouts’
War seems to almost be external to people’s economies or society, something neutral. Using the passive tense to describe acts of war and its effects removes politics and responsibility. This is exactly the opposite of what is needed to understand starvation crimes.
The recommendations are all clearly needed but bland: restore humanitarian access, pressure warring parties to adhere to IHL, have an independent investigation. With UN organisations reporting, how could it be otherwise? A focus on starvation crimes was supposed to put the politics back into famine analysis. But can UN resolution 2417 do it? Questions remain on who should be reporting starvation crimes (states? resistance movements? activists? students?) and who should act on it.
The South Africa case against Israel at the International Court of Justice (ICJ) sets an important precedent, in particular the amendment to the provisional measures in March 2024: to take all necessary and effective measures – without delay – for the provision of humanitarian assistance, in response to reports of famine and starvation. Since then the International Criminal Court (ICC) is seeking a warrant for the arrest of Israeli leaders, in another unprecedented move, for war crimes of starvation. Even with these high-level actions, the crimes continue.
In contrast, on Sudan there is mostly inaction. While starvation and genocide in Gaza is played out daily on our television screens, such reports on Sudan are rare. Recent warnings of famine, and statements by UN experts, have had little impact except to pressure warring parties to come to power-sharing agreements rather than holding them to account.
Communications networks as objects indispensable to survival
Of course, much of the lack of action in response to Sudan’s crisis is due the prioritisation of geopolitics and economic interests over humanitarian response and – ultimately – stopping the war. Sudan’s invisibility is also a result of blocking and manipulating communications networks and connectivity. Most societies are digitalised, meaning that people are increasingly dependent on connectivity for their day-to-day activities or – in the case of Sudan – their survival. Connectivity becomes important in relation to starvation crimes because:
Blocking communications networks hides information on violations of human rights and humanitarian law.
Internet shutdowns disrupt social networks, remittances, food systems.
Third, network shutdowns also block aid provision, not because it hinders the coordination, information and security of aid organisations, but aid itself is increasingly digitalised: pre-paid debit cards, electronic vouchers, and mobile money.
In Sudan, the Bankak App from the Bank of Khartoum has been a lifeline since the start of the April 2023 war because it could be used to transfer of money to crisis-affected people and local organisations. From early February, however, the RSF disabled all internet providers. Soon after, Starlink Satelites were introduced in RSF-held areas, which ordinary people pay to use for internet connection but which were brought in and managed by the RSF. As such, control over communications has become a way of denying services and resources to the enemy, life or death for ordinary citizens, as well as a new way of profiteering. It also illustrates the moral dilemmas of providing aid in conflict and the challenges of reporting on famine crimes. This does not mean we stop calling out starvation crimes, but rather highlights the importance for humanitarians to analyse famine as a political scandal that requires global as well as local action.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
Precariousness is an underlying factor in the gig economy. When combined with the climate crisis, this becomes an even bigger burden on gig workers. These ‘flexible workers’ are often not equipped to be flexible to the changing environment. They face the dilemma of navigating between algorithms and climate extremes, often forced to choose earnings over health. In this blog, Anna Eliasexplores how the vulnerabilities of the workers are amplified in the context of climate crisis.
‘Our economic system and our planetary system are now at war. Or, more accurately, our economy is at war with many forms of life on earth, including human life. What the climate needs to avoid collapse is a contraction in humanity’s use of resources; what our economic model demands to avoid collapse is unfettered expansion. Only one of these sets of rules can be changed, and it’s not the laws of nature.’ Naomi Klein (This changes everything: Capitalism vs. the climate).
Most parts of India suffered from extreme weather conditions this year. While the temperatures soared up to 50℃ in some cities, the monsoons that followed caused extreme havoc in others. The United Nations Economic and Social Commission for Asia and the Pacific (UNESCAP) report predicts that India will lose 5.8 per cent of its working hours by 2030 due to extreme heat. What does this mean for a gig worker, for most of whom the city is their workspace, and for whom navigating the city constitutes a substantial part of their everyday life?
App based platforms have revolutionized the way urban dwellers travel, eat and purchase. While the gig economy has created numerous flexible jobs, it is also criticised for not effectively dealing with various issues such as workers’ wellbeing and social protection.
Flexible workers are not equipped to be flexible to the changing environment. In current research and policy discourses on gig work, the impact of climate change on the worker is often overlooked. While climate change has significant consequences to both their lives and livelihoods, it is only one among the many vulnerabilities they face. Gig workers already suffer from casualised, low-paid working conditions without access to long-term security, formal social protections and welfare. The pressure caused by these precarious conditions is further exemplified by extreme weather events. Beyond the immediate physical dangers posed by heatwaves or flash floods, these conditions increase the susceptibility of road accidents, thereby heightening the risk of traffic-related injuries.
As research has shown, in the gig economy, climate change is poised to act as a ‘wicked multiplier’ intensifying the vulnerabilities experienced by workers in developing countries. Gig workers in these countries are exposed to extreme weather conditions and endure long hours while navigating hazardous roads and traffic during heatwaves, storms, and floods. Those using two-wheelers to get around face additional challenges such as dust inhalation, impaired vision due to harsh sunlight, heatstroke, and the lack of shade on the roads. These conditions, along with algorithmic management and the promise of ‘lightning fast’ services, make gig workers vulnerable to exhaustion, dehydration, and severe health risks. That their earnings are dependent on the satisfactory execution of the gig exacerbates the precariousness of their situation.
Amidst this crisis, the responses from app-based companies are noteworthy. A prominent Indian food delivery platform issued the following statement: ‘please avoid ordering during peak afternoon unless absolutely necessary’. Yet in the platform economy, lower order volumes correspondingly diminish workers’ earnings. So, this seemingly well-intentioned request to customers aimed at reducing the delivery workers’ exposure to the intense afternoon heat, neglects the dilemma the workers face between making viable earnings and risking their immediate and long-term health. Another example is of a ride-hailing platform that introduced a ‘weather fee’ in Vietnam, which imposed an extra charge on an order whenever the local temperature hit 35℃. This was counter-intuitive, as it incentivized the already precarious worker to work extra hours regardless of the weather conditions, thus putting their lives at risk.
A common misconception is that extreme environmental situations affect only two -wheel drivers. Beyond the physical discomfort to themselves, even auto and taxi drivers face additional challenges of managing customer expectations and interactions on topics that are related to climate change. For example, a common conflict between drivers and customers, especially during warm day-time hours is the driver’s reluctance to switch on the air conditioning, fearing higher fuel consumption. An Uber driver in Mumbai shares his experiences and strategy in coping with climate change:
”I don’t want to turn on the air conditioner in my car throughout the day. All the money I make goes on fuel charges. Over time, I realised that during the summer the best I can do is drive only during the night. The customers usually don’t insist on travelling with the AC on at night. Of course, I lose sleep and it affects my health. But I don’t have any other choice”. (Fieldnotes, Mumbai 2023).
Apart from highlighting the precarious nature of the work, these cases illustrate the importance of engaging all key stakeholders when developing solutions. Specifically, they emphasize the need to recognise the gig worker as an important stakeholder in the gig economy. They make clear that addressing climate challenges in the platform economy requires a collaborative effort from companies, workers, and the government.
App based platforms were once considered part of the sharing economy and hailed as harbingers of sustainability and collaborative consumption. However, with rapid expansion, they are now criticized for their significant environmental and social costs and for increasing road congestion and intensity.
Conversely, emergingresearchhighlights the potential of platforms to be part of the solution, positioning them as essential stakeholders in sustainability efforts, emphasizing the need for collaborative approaches that integrate labour rights and climate justice. Platform companies have the best of technology and resources at their disposal to craft solutions that benefit their customers, workers and investors alike. For this, they need to view all stakeholders as equally important, create avenues for dialogue between them and work with them to incrementally build equitable solutions for both people and the planet.
Bibliography
Economic survey of Asia. (1991). Economic and Social Survey of Asia and the Pacific. Economic and Social Commission for Asia and the Pacific. https://www.unescap.org/kp/2024/survey2024
Dwivedi, Y. K., Hughes, L., Kar, A. K., Baabdullah, A. M., Grover, P., Abbas, R., … & Wade, M. (2022). Climate change and COP26: Are digital technologies and information management part of the problem or the solution? An editorial reflection and call to action. International Journal of Information Management, 63, 102456. https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0268401221001493
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the Author: Anna Elias
Anna Elias is a PhD researcher at International Institute of Social Studies (ISS), Erasmus University Rotterdam. Her research explores socio economic transitions brought about by digitisation, particularly its effect on livelihoods in the informal economy. With a strong professional background in the social impact sector, her expertise lies at the intersection of evidence-based research and evaluation, digital innovation, and sustainability.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
Although the Nigerian state is guided by a Constitution that confers on all Nigerian citizens equal rights regardless of gender and sexual identity, it has been adept at maintaining a system of patriarchy through institutions, policies, and procedures which has led to the differential treatment of men and women. This is what Chouinard refers to as “spatial differing”, and has several knock-on effects that translate to unequal outcomes for some Nigerian citizens. In this blog, Emaediong Akpanexplores how the state confers citizenship on its people: who has the right to participate in the affairs of the state? And to what extent such rights can be exercised and enjoyed by all?
Does the State have a character? And is it Gendered?
“The state is a masculine institution,” assigning rights and belonging along gendered patterns. In allocating these rights, the state decides who belongs in the state and to what extent a person can lay claim to their citizenship. This is both a legal and social decision that affects the feeling of belonging and inclusion The struggle for inclusive citizenship is not new, and from voting rights to property rights, women have had to constantly negotiate with the state about what rights they can enjoy, but not in the same way that men do. This is because Nigerian women are often at a disadvantage, working against multiple levels of assumption, and negotiating male-dominated spaces.
The state is not a neutral entity, only concerned with the maintenance of law and order, rather it descends like a biased umpire into the arena of private life, regulating bodies and relationships. This is what French philosopher, Michael Foucault describes as bio-politics: [state] regulation of its people, taking the form of control over social interaction, health and reproductive rights, and the right to life amongst many others. For radical feminists, bio-politics is an indication of the state’s masculinity and commitment to protecting patriarchy.
In Nigeria, citizenship occurs at the national level, state, and local government levels. While a woman in Nigeria can claim citizenship (on paper), true citizenship that is characterized by access to citizenship rights, including social benefits and political participation. True citizenship, then, is something she must consistently negotiate through the course of her life. This negotiation is limited by the state’s decision to favor patriarchy, and this results in the differential capacity of men and women to claim the benefits and privileges that come with being a citizen.
Gender and Citizenship in Nigeria: Women as Outsiders Within
The 1999 Nigerian Constitution (As Amended) is the reference point for who can be conferred the status of a citizen and who can transfer citizenship. In the country, citizenship is conferred at the national level by birth, where either parents or a grandparent is a citizen of Nigeria or from a tribe indigenous to Nigeria. Under section 26(2), only a man can confer citizenship to his wife through marriage, in essence, a Nigerian woman who marries a non-Nigerian cannot confer this citizenship on her husband or her children. In this way, a Nigerian woman’s citizenship can be considered inferior in the sense that it cannot be transferred to another.
The situation becomes more dire with single mothers who try to navigate citizenship, especially when the father of their child is no longer present or refuses to be in their lives. Women in this situation must attach themselves to a Nigerian male if their child is to identify as a citizen of the country, even with the most basic form of identity, a certificate of birth. These women are left with no other choice than to give their children the names of absentee fathers, or that of a male member of their family to retrieve these certificates from the state. Citizenship is sexual, in the way that, it ‘empowers’ the genders that are beneficial to the state – men. In doing so, the state considers the man as the entity who is able to give life, and the woman’s role is reduced to a body that houses the uterus suitable to carry a (male) Nigerian child, but not confer citizenship upon that child.
Another way the state is implicit in fostering gendered power relations is in the refusal to enact policies to address forms of disempowerment such as protecting the rights of single women who are navigating the rental market in Nigeria. For decades, there has been an outcry of single women in the country with complaints of facing prejudice from property owners because “single women should not rent houses independently.” My first-hand experience as a single woman renting a home in 2014 lends credence to this conversation. My search for a home in Abuja, the country’s capital, was met with several rejections because of my status, but interestingly, this changed when I returned with a ‘hired partner’ and flaunted a shiny make-shift engagement ring. Surprisingly, the property owner was female. As noted by Sathiamma patriarchy is produced by a system, meaning that both men and women can be active gatekeepers of patriarchal norms and practices, albeit sometimes unknowingly. These attitudes are rooted in persistent patriarchal socio-cultural norms that view women as property belonging to men.
While national citizenship is relevant for macro-level discourses, a different form of citizenship also exists within the margins – state citizenship. This is perhaps the most challenging for Nigerian women to navigate. Identities within the Nigerian state are defined in a masculine way. As a Nigerian woman, your identity is often contested and changing in many ways. For instance, at the point of marriage, Nigerian women must pay a fee to the state to change their names to that of their new partner, while notifying the public through print media – in a change of name announcement – that her previous name (father’s name) has been abandoned. These changes must also be replicated across every identity document that she possesses – bank details, international passport, and state and local government identity documents. In the case that her state and local government of origin differs from her husband’s, she continues to be denied indigeneity (rootedness), never fully belonging to her father’s home or her husband’s.
Reflection
The redefinition of a state – as masculine and non-neutral – through a feminist lens provides the needed objectivity to ask critical questions on the state’s role in regulating the public and private lives of its citizens. By looking at how the Nigerian state interacts with Nigerian women through this lens, we can better understand its preconceived roles for female Nigerian citizens.
The Nigerian state is masculine and would continue to subject women’s identities to the whims and caprices of patriarchy whilst denying men who do not fit the ideals of masculinity the right to citizenship. This is operationalized in its administrative processes, how women can (or cannot) access basic needs like housing, and the way that women are treated when they participate in public affairs.
Unless we begin to interact with foundational institutions like the state using a feminist lens to dismantle the assumptions of its rationality, these current efforts at addressing gender inequality will not yield much.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the Author
Emaediong Akpan
Emaediong Akpan is a legal practitioner, called to the Nigerian Bar in 2015. She is currently pursuing a Master’s in Development Studies with a specialization in Women and Gender Studies at the International Institute of Social Studies ,Erasmus University Rotterdam. With extensive experience in the development sector, her work spans gender equity, social inclusion, and policy advocacy. Her research examines the effects of technology-facilitated gender-based violence on women and social movements, highlighting how digital spaces serve as sites for power contests and the policing of gender norms.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
In this blog, Andrew Cunningham (Independent Humanitarian Practitioner and Board Member of the International Humanitarian Studies Association, IHSA) considers the principle of ‘humanity’ during conflict, and its interaction with other key humanitarian principles including neutrality, impartiality, and independence. He also looks at how humanitarians can integrate dignity into their work, and how these principles may develop in highly politicised and fast-moving times. This blog summarises a contribution to the roundtable that followed the inaugural IHSA Annual Lecture and is part of a series of blogs produced following the Lecture, which took place in Bergen in May 2024 under the theme of “War and Humanity”.
The principle of humanity is often overlooked when we talk about the humanitarian principles. Focus is normally placed on the ‘big three’ principles – impartiality, independence, and neutrality. The most important of these is impartiality, which is the promise of non-discrimination and lack of bias in aid provision. The idea is to help those most in need regardless of who they are. Impartiality is a central and required aspect of humanitarian’s identity.
Independence, which allows aid organisations to make their own choices outside political interference, is also a foundational principle and facilitates the adherence to impartiality. The promise made by independent humanitarian aid organisations to host governments and non-state actors is that they make their own decisions and are not political tools of foreign governments.
More problematic, and much debated, is the principle of neutrality, which at its core demands that aid organisations do not become involved in political controversies. But some organisations (for example MSF) view it as a limitation on witnessing, speaking-out, and public communications. Do aid organisation have the right, or even obligation, to affect the political situations which lead to humanitarian crises?
But at the top of the list is the principle of humanity. Humanity is the collection of humans, some have the ability to help others, and some are in need of help. For, humanitarian action is simply humans helping other humans in need. Humanity is also a term which denotes a set of characteristics which must be preserved, such as the dignity of the person and a whole set of ‘human’ rights. This may all seem self-evident, yet it is worth reflecting on this lest we stop grounding what we do in the basics.
Humanity, dignity, and solidarity
Dignity is a consequence of attending to the humanity of those caught in a crisis. We all want to be treated with dignity at all times, of course. But those caught up in conflict are even more starved of dignity as their isolation, sense of abandonment, and fear of violence grows.
Humanitarian action doesn’t always do the best job at attending to the dignity of the individual, as so often masses of people are affected by war and are engaged with by organisation as populations. One way in which people in danger can be afforded dignity is the proximity of aid workers to those being assisted. No one wants to ‘feel like a number’ and be just a recipient of material aid or a beneficiary.
A feeling of human solidarity is also important, as this example of my work in Chechnya shows: After several years working in Chechnya during the last war, I was checking-in with the staff at a hospital we had long been supporting. We had been providing a lot of medical supplies and I was asking about its usefulness. But the chief doctor stopped me at a certain point and said that yes, the material aid had been needed, and appreciated. But that was not the most crucial factor. In turns out that not being forgotten, being treated with dignity by people who cared, was the most important aspects of our intervention. Solidarity can be seen as a mix of caring enough to help and being willing to share a moral, if not always a physical, space, with those caught-up in a crisis.
Does digitalisation lack humanity?
One way in which humanitarian aid may be diverting from this idea is through the ‘digitalisation’ of aid delivery. No one wants to only deal with an app on their smart phone or be forever linked to a set of biometrics which defines one’s aid category. There is more to aid than this transactional way of providing it. Proximity to human aid workers is vital to reinforce a person’s sense of dignity. In the search for efficiency and greater outputs (as opposed to outcomes), have we gone too far? Is there still room for the proximity of humans helping other humans? And where is the locus of dignity in this version of aid?
Wars provide a difficult terrain to navigate. The threat of violence to aid actors as well as those living in the crisis makes being proximate hard. The chief doctor I mentioned above had not been visited for quite some time by anyone form my organisation due to the violence in the area. But yet he knew we were sill ‘there’.
Conclusion
Let us return to the principle of humanity which is the highest order principle from which everything else is derived. Impartiality helps guide our operational choices – who we help and why. And independence and neutrality are ways of working which help provide the space to work. Together these all help make state and non-state actors comfortable with our motivations.
At its essence, we should never forget that humanitarian aid is humans helping humans, which requires proximity, dignity and solidarity. We should all remind ourselves periodically of the importance of the principle of humanity as the foundational humanitarian principle.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the author
Andrew Cunningham
Andrew has thirty years’ experience in the humanitarian sector, twenty-five years of which with MSF. Andrew has worked in a wide variety of contexts and geographical locations in Africa, the Former Soviet Union, and Asia. He has a PhD in War Studies from King’s College and has published a professional book in the Routledge Humanitarian Studies series on the topic of INGO-State relations. Andrew has served as a member of the Board of MSF International and is currently a board member of the International Humanitarian Studies Association. Andrew works as a researcher, strategic and operational evaluator, and governance advisor for various humanitarian organisations.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
This blog series, Rhiannon Matthias and Peter Knorringa aims to spotlight diverse cultural values related to frugality, their alignment with sustainable practices, and touch onquestions linked to the legitimacy of frugal innovation. By incorporating indigenous perspectives and cultural narratives alongside other global viewpoints, this initiative seeks to bridge academic insights with public understanding, inspiring a more inclusive and nuanced dialogue on frugality.
Ruins on the Bolivian side of Lake Titicaca by Rhiannon Mathias
Frugal innovation is making headway as a relatively new concept in global discourses on sustainability, development, and ethical living. As outlined in the Handbook for Frugal Innovation (2023), this approach generally involves reducing the complexity and cost of goods and production processes while maintaining essential functionality and performance. While frugal innovation as a formal area of study is relatively new, the virtue of frugality and its associated practices have deep roots in many cultures worldwide. The Global South, encompassing regions and populations historically disadvantaged by global economic and political systems, has often been viewed as a primary target ‘market’ for or beneficiaries of frugal innovation(s).
Yet, simultaneously, the Global South holds a wealth of philosophical traditions that offer nuanced and potentially radical reconceptualization of frugality. These include concepts such as Ubuntu from Southern Africa and Buen Vivir from the Andean region, which emphasize interconnectedness, community, and prioritizing collective well-being over individual excess. However, these perspectives are frequently overlooked in the new frugal innovation discourse, which at times tends towards ahistorical and universalist takes. This universalizing tendency is, on the one hand, somewhat understandable in a new area of study that is also concerned with practical outputs and outcomes. On the other hand, it is not without consequences. As one contributor to the handbook astutely observes, “in trying to create a more universalized narrative the specific and local is erased.”
Challenging the Universal: The Importance of Local Perspectives
The erasure of local nuances is not merely a theoretical concern; it has tangible implications for how frugal innovations are conceived, developed, and implemented across diverse contexts, potentially affecting their success and impact. To move beyond a simplistic “West vs. Rest” dichotomy, it is crucial to engage with the deeper ideological and cultural roots of frugality in the Global South. This engagement can stretch the discursive walls that encase frugality as a concept, allowing for more nuanced understandings.
These perspectives on frugality have evolved in different contexts of historical struggle and resilience. Through their exploration, it becomes possible to better see the potential pitfalls in practical outcomes and challenge notions of universality in frugal innovation discourse. How do societies that have long grappled with resource constraints and colonial legacies understand and practice the virtue of frugality?
African Humanism and Ubuntu: Collective Frugality Rooted in Interconnectedness
At the heart of many Southern African philosophical traditions lies a profound understanding of human interconnectedness, most famously articulated in the concept of Ubuntu. Rooted etymologically in Tswana, Sotho, Tonga, Zulu, and many other Southern African languages, Ubuntu has a rich and evolving history that defies easy categorization. Gade (2011) demonstrates that the term ‘ubuntu’ has appeared in writing since at least 1846, with its meaning shifting significantly over time.
Initially defined as a human quality, Ubuntu later expanded to encompass notions of African humanism, philosophy, ethics, and worldview. The now-ubiquitous Nguni proverb ‘umuntu ngumuntu ngabantu’ (often translated as ‘a person is a person through other persons’) only became widely associated with Ubuntu between 1993 and 1995, coinciding with South Africa’s transition to democracy. Ubuntu’s emphasis on interconnectedness and collective well-being presents a philosophical framework that fundamentally challenges individualistic notions of virtue. As Ramose (2003) explains, Ubuntu embodies a nuanced philosophy of human interdependence and collective well-being that goes far beyond its often-simplified translation, “I am because we are.”
This raises important questions: Does Ubuntu suggest a form of ‘collective frugality’ where virtue lies not in individual restraint, but in the equitable distribution and use of resources within a community? It is crucial to recognize that Ubuntu’s resurgence in post-apartheid South Africa has been deeply political. Eze (2010) argues that there’s a risk of Ubuntu being used as a “conceptual trick” to promote a false sense of reconciliation without addressing underlying structural issues. Moreover, the application of Ubuntu principles in modern, urbanized contexts presents challenges. How can ideas of communal resource-sharing be implemented in societies marked by significant economic disparities and individualistic economic structures?
Viewing frugality through the lens of Ubuntu can open new possibilities for addressing resource management and sustainability challenges. It prompts us to consider how communal values, and interconnectedness can inform more holistic and equitable approaches to resource use, potentially offering solutions to the environmental and social challenges faced by modern societies.
Buen Vivir: Redefining Prosperity in Harmony with Nature
Shifting focus to the Andean region reveals a complex set of concepts that offer profound challenges to dominant paradigms of progress and innovation. While often used interchangeably in academic and political discourse, the Kichwa concept of Sumak Kawsay (often translated as “Life in Plenitude”) and the more widely known Buen Vivir (Good Living) have distinct meanings and implications. At its core, Buen Vivir emphasizes harmony between humans and nature, community solidarity, and a broader conception of wealth beyond material accumulation. Gudynas (2011) describes Buen Vivir as suggesting that true well-being can only be achieved in the context of community, including the broader community of nature. In this framework, frugality isn’t about deprivation or scarcity, but about finding fulfillment in balance and reciprocity rather than excess.
Buen Vivir enriches the frugality discourse by reframing it within a holistic worldview that prioritizes ecological balance and communal well-being. It challenges us to consider frugality not merely as a means of resource conservation, but as a pathway to harmonious coexistence with nature and community. This perspective invites us to reimagine frugal practices as tools for fostering sustainable relationships between humans and their environment, rather than just methods for reducing consumption. It suggests that community-based, nature-aligned approaches to innovation and resource use can lead to more holistic and sustainable solutions. This paradigm offers potential alternatives to the environmental and social challenges posed by conventional models of economic development, emphasizing balance and reciprocity over unchecked growth and consumption.
Relatedly, the Spanish term for frugal innovation, “innovación popular,” evokes notions of community involvement and grassroots innovation. This linguistic connection invites consideration of frugality not just as individual restraint, but as a collective practice, aligning with the principles of Buen Vivir. It implies a bottom-up, community-led approach to innovation that resonates with the core tenets of Buen Vivir.
However, like Ubuntu, Buen Vivir has also been subject to political reconfiguration and co-option. Several Andean countries, notably Ecuador and Bolivia, have incorporated Buen Vivir principles into their constitutions and national development plans. While this represents a significant recognition of indigenous philosophies, it has also led to tensions and contradictions. Villalba (2013) points out that there’s often a gap between the rhetoric of Buen Vivir and the continuation of extractive economic policies that conflict with its principles. The concept has sometimes been used to legitimize government actions without fundamentally altering economic structures or power dynamics. This raises complex questions: How can a philosophy that emphasizes harmony with nature be reconciled with the pressures of economic development and modernization?
Reflections on Collective Frugality
The examples of Ubuntu and Buen Vivir illustrate the richness and complexity of Global South perspectives on frugality and well-being. They offer profound challenges to dominant narratives of development and innovation, suggesting alternative ways of conceptualizing progress, community, and humanity’s relationship with nature. At the same time, their real-world applications reveal the challenges of translating philosophical principles into practice, especially in the face of entrenched economic systems and power structures.
Examining these philosophies, including their complexities and contradictions, allows for a more nuanced understanding of frugality as a virtue. This understanding goes beyond simplistic notions of “doing more with less” to encompass questions of equity, community, and ecological harmony. Approaching these ideas requires both an open mind and a critical eye. It is essential to resist the temptation to romanticize “local ways of life” or “indigenous knowledge systems.” Many people in Africa and the Andean region live in cities and participate in capitalist economies. The goal is not to present these philosophies as untouched alternatives to modernity, but to understand how they continue to evolve and inform contemporary debates about resource use, community, and well-being.
Expanding philosophical horizons and resisting the erasure of local specificities may provide new ways to think about frugality, innovation, and sustainable living in our interconnected world. As this series continues, subsequent entries will delve deeper into philosophical traditions from the Global South, exploring their implications for frugal innovation, sustainability, and global development.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the Authors
Rhiannon Matthias is the Communications Officer at the International Centre for Frugal Innovation.
Peter Knorringa is a Professor of Private Sector & Development at the International Institute of Social Studies (ISS) at Erasmus University Rotterdam. His Chair focuses on the diverse roles and impacts of business on development. He does not perceive private firms as either the ‘enemy’ or the ‘heroic deliverer’ of development. Instead, he aims to advance a more empirical and nuanced debate on where and when entrepreneurs and firms are more likely to contribute to achieving more inclusive and sustainable development.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
In this blog, to mark global Disaster RiskReduction Day, Tom Ansell (HSC Coordinator) considers whether disaster risk reduction activities can be made less-resource intensive through Frugal Innovation. Whilst Frugal DRR shouldn’t be considered a money-saving replacement for development and infrastructure work, it does provide an opportunity for communities to reduce their vulnerability and increase their capacity for dealing with the consequences of hazards that could include extreme weather, geological hazards, or other environmental hazards.
What is DRR? And what’s wrong with the term ‘natural disasters’?
People across the world live in places that have different levels of risk and have different vulnerabilities in the face of these risks. More than the hazard itself, a much larger defining factor for how much damage, social upheaval, and loss of life occurs is how vulnerable people are, and how prepared they are for when a potential hazard becomes a disaster. In other words, an earthquake of magnitude 8 will have significantly different effects in a wealthy country with a strong governance system, to a much poorer country with (for example) a fragmented government. In the words of Margaret Arnold at the World Bank, “the key lesson is that disasters are social constructs. People are vulnerable to the impacts of climate change and natural hazards due not just to their geographical context, but their financial, their social status, their cultural status, their gender status, their access to services, their level of poverty, their access to decision making, and their access to justice.”
For example, Tokyo often suffers from extreme stormy weather: as many countries with a Pacific coast do. The city of Tokyo, however, also has one of the largest storm drains in the world to help divert water resulting from storms or extremely heavy rainfall. The project, completed in the 1990s and costing around 3 billion US Dollars, means that though the city is often affected by tropical cyclones and typhoons, there is typically much less loss of life in the Tokyo area than others affected by the same typhoon – especially as the city of Tokyo has well-developed evacuation routes, early warning and information systems, and more besides.
This example serves to demonstrate the purpose of DRR activities: to prevent risks and – where this is not possible – to minimize the overall damage caused by extreme weather. As the ‘no natural disasters’ movement emphasizes, reacting after the event is a less intelligent way to respond to disasters, compared to prevention, pre-preparation, and planning is a much more productive and intelligent way to ‘respond’ to disasters. Various frameworks for ‘good’ risk management activities have been devised, including the Hyogo Framework (2005-2015) and Sendai Framework (2015-2030).
At this point, it might seem that all DRR activities are exceptionally expensive, very large public infrastructure that are only available to the very wealthiest regions in the world. But that would be a serious oversimplification of what smaller groups of citizens, with or without the support of institutions, can achieve to mitigate risk and so reduce their vulnerability. DRR activities also include mapping areas that will be most affected by an extreme event, creating evacuation routes, developing information systems and early-warning systems, training citizens on flood-proofing their homes, or even making informational videos on what to do should a disaster strike.
This is not to say that large infrastructure projects aren’t important: indeed they can be transformational. However, it is important to emphasize that DRR activities are not always expensive: even though an all-round DRR plan for a place will likely include both more expensive infrastructure, less economically-expensive activities can also make a difference.
Can ‘Frugal Innovation’ inspire low-cost but effective interventions?
In order to develop new ideas around lower-cost (frugal) risk reduction activities, it is useful to dive into the world of Frugal Innovation. The International Centre for Frugal Innovation (ICFI), based at ISS and part of LDE, considers the practice and approach to be a potentially transformative way of finding new solutions to growing societal problems, in a non-excessive way. Andre Leliveld and Peter Knorringa, in an article from 2017 setting out the potential relationship between Frugal Innovation and development, note that the field sprouted from multiple sources but takes much inspiration from jugaad practices in South Asia. Jugaad is an excellent catch-all term (borrowed from Hindi, and with similar terms in Punjabi, Urdu, and various Dravidian languages including Telugu and Malyalam) for low-cost and often ingenious solutions to nagging problems; as well as the kind of mindset that allows the creative thinking around these solutions to occur. Whilst the term and thinking is often used in business (to create products for people with less purchasing power), it is very versatile.
Utilising some of the thinking inherent within Frugal Innovation in relation to DRR activities requires taking a solutions-oriented approach, and making use of existing resources, skills, or initiatives to reduce vulnerability by mitigating risk.
Painting and planning: Frugal Disaster Risk Reduction in action
How urban communities adapt to heatwaves across India is an interesting way to demonstrate how integrating Frugal Innovation techniques into Disaster Risk Reduction carries the potential for meaningful reduction in vulnerability.
Heatwaves have the potential to be very destructive, and one solution that is being rolled out across several areas that have a high number of informal dwellings in cities including Mumbai and Nagpur is the low-cost but high-yield technique of painting roofs white (to reflect the sun) and installing secondary ‘shade roofs’ on buildings. This can reduce inside temperatures by several degrees on the hottest of days. Similarly, a network of inexpensive recording devices has been installed to track ‘hotspots’ in the city, which can inform where communal ‘cooling zones’ need to be set up local city corporations or voluntary groups. And, in Ahmedabad in the north-west of India, a ‘Heat Action Plan’ was developed by the city corporation and scientific partners that is estimated to have prevented hundreds of fatalities.
Developing evacuation routes, making sure that citizens are prepared for what to do in a disaster, small and uncomplicated changes to people’s homes, or even utilising close-knit communities and communication networks as informal warning systems may not structurally reduce peoples’yet vulnerabilities yet can make a difference in preventing the worst of disaster impacts. And, whilst not as transformational as large public infrastructure projects, any gain in a communities’ resilience is an important step. Luckily ‘Frugal Innovation’ techniques show us that DRR doesn’t always need to be expensive.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the author
Tom Ansell
Tom Ansell is the Coordinator of the Humanitarian Studies Centre and International Humanitarian Studies Association.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
On Tuesday 8th October 2024, Dutch Scholars for Palestine (DSP) staged a walk-out across various academic institutions in the Netherlands. Participating in the walk-out in solidarity with the Palestinian people provided a profound opportunity to reflect on Alain Verheij’s discourse on critical friendship. This act of protest was not merely a statement of dissent; it was a collective rejection of the blatant complicity of our institutions in the ongoing slow genocide against the Palestinian people.
In this opinion piece, Irene van Staveren provides a slightly edited translation of Alain Verheij’s article where he reflects on the complex and often polarized discourse surrounding Israel and Palestine, particularly in the wake of the tragic events of October 7th. Drawing from both personal experiences and theological insights, the author advocates for a balanced approach to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict—one that emphasizes critical friendship and prophetic critique. By engaging with the rich traditions of both Judaism and Christianity, the author seeks to encourage readers to confront uncomfortable truths, challenge blind support or condemnation, and foster a deeper understanding of the humanitarian crises affecting both Israelis and Palestinians.
On October 6, it was ‘Israel Sunday’ in Protestant churches across the Netherlands. The theme, as always, was to “give shape to the indelible bond with the people of Israel.” But in a year marked by heightened conflict, navigating this bond is more complex than ever. The leadership of the churches recognizes the sensitivity of this issue, publishing carefully worded statements that avoid offending anyone. Yet, this approach leaves us wondering: is the Protestant Church Netherlands (PKN) more concerned with maintaining neutrality than with standing up for justice?
A Personal Confession
Before diving deeper into this topic, let me offer a personal confession: in some ways, I might be called a Zionist (which is a highly contested term). I deeply understand the Jewish desire for a homeland, a response to centuries of persecution, culminating in the atrocities of the Holocaust. The persistent fear of antisemitism that haunts Israel is not misplaced; it’s a reality ingrained in the Jewish psyche, and rightfully so.
My respect for the Jewish tradition runs deep. The Old Testament, is a cornerstone of my faith. I often find myself more drawn to its stories and lessons than to the New Testament. Jesus and Paul didn’t appear in a vacuum—they emerged from the rich religious and cultural context of Judaism, a tradition that continues to inspire and teach.
The Role of Prophetic Criticism
One of the remarkable elements of both Jewish and Christian scriptures is the role of the prophets. In many ancient societies, rulers were seen as divine or infallible. Not so in biblical Israel. There, kings were subject to the will of God, and when they strayed from this, the prophets were quick to call them out. No leader was above criticism; no action was beyond reproach.
This tradition of prophetic critique is one that modern Christians should embrace, especially when it comes to Israel. While Israel is often referred to as “the only democracy in the Middle East,” it is worth noting that it still lacks a formal constitution. And while its military is often described as “the most moral army in the world,” but its actions, particularly in Gaza, raise significant moral questions.
Unconditional Support and Unconditional Hatred
Among Christians, you’ll find both extremes: some offer unwavering support for Israel, while others offer unwavering condemnation. The former group, often philosemites, blow shofars, wave the Star of David, and shout ‘shalom,’ while applauding every military strike. The latter group denounces Israel at every turn, seeing only injustice in its actions. Both positions, however, are flawed.
When we place Israel on a pedestal, either to worship or vilify, we strip its people of their humanity. Israelis are not mythical beings; they are human. They are people with fears, traumas, and hopes—people protesting against Netanyahu’s government, grieving for Gaza, or worrying for children who have been kidnapped or conscripted.
What Israel needs, particularly from its allies in the West, is not blind supporters or harsh critics. Instead, it needs critical friends—those who, like the prophets of old, are willing to speak uncomfortable truths out of a place of deep care. Unconditional support does nothing to advance peace, just as unconditional hatred only fuels further polarization.
The tragic events of October 7th, where countless lives were lost in attacks by Hamas, are a reminder of the spiral of violence that plagues the region. Yet, Israel’s large-scale retaliatory actions, which risk dragging multiple nations into conflict, demand scrutiny. If Western nations, including the Netherlands, continue to support Israel without question, they contribute to the cycle of violence rather than its resolution.
Conclusion
As we reflect on Israel Sunday, I hope that more of us will take up the mantle of critical friendship. Just as the biblical prophets held their leaders accountable, we too must be willing to offer constructive criticism to Israel, encouraging it to pursue peace and justice. Only then can we honor the shared traditions of Judaism and Christianity and contribute to a more just and peaceful world.
The original version of this opinion piece in Dutch can be found here.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the authors
Alain Verheij
Alain Verheij studied theology in Amersfoort (2012) and did a Research Master Hebrew Bible Studies at the University of Leiden (2014). His work involves storytelling based on the bible for groups, the media and churches. He is a critical thinker and invited speaker. He writes a column for newspaper Trouw, and is author of several books (in Dutch), including books about God and Money, God and Me, and an Ode to the Loser.
Irene van Staveren is Professor of Pluralist Development Economics at the ISS. Professor Van Staveren’s field of research included feminist economics, heterodox economics, pluralist economics and social economics. Specifically, her fields of expertise lie in ethics and economic philosophy.
The International Humanitarian Studies Association (IHSA), held its inaugural Annual Lecture on 23 May at the Literature House in Bergen, Norway. The lecture was given by Khaled Quzmar, General Director of Defence for Children International: Palestine (DCIP), and was held in collaboration with the Rafto Foundation and WAR-FUN project at the Chr Michelsen Institute in Bergen.
As the first part in a blog series to mark the lecture, IHSA Coordinator Tom Ansell has put together this blog in collaboration with Khaled Quzmar. It starts with an interview and is followed by the key points from Quzmar’s lecture.
How important is it that we see accountability for military crimes in the current Gaza war (especially in light of the indictment of the Israeli Prime Minister and Defense Minister for war crimes by the ICC)?
With ongoing atrocities in Gaza, there is likely to be a collective trauma amongst Palestinians. In your opinion, how might it be possible to re-humanize this conflict and the people in it once direct military action has ceased?
‘In my opinion, the civilian population in the Gaza Strip has been under a racist colonial military occupation since 1967, and the people have been refugees for 76 years. For the last 17 years they have lived under a strict military siege from land and sea, and under direct bombardment. Since the beginning of the Israeli military operation in 2024, they have cut off water, food, medicine and electricity, and destroyed homes and infrastructure. In this situation the civilian population do not expect justice, they just want the aggression and killing to stop.
‘The Israeli military and authorities need to treat people in Gaza as human beings that are part of society. People with the right, like other peoples of the world, to self-determination and to live in dignity, security and safety without occupation.
‘[After a ceasefire has been called] massive interventions will be required to provide all the necessities of life and to enable the population to enjoy human rights according to international law. Work will also be needed to help rid children of the psychological issues resulting from the aggression and deprivation of the last 230 days on top of the siege of the 17 years before that.’
In your role as Director of DCI-Palestine,you have direct experience of the importance of humanitarian organizations. What is their importance in the current conflict, and how can children’s rights in particular be safeguarded?
‘The work of human rights and humanitarian organizations is very important in order to help the victims and provide some services and assistance to them. But they also work to preserve hope for future generations, especially children. We are aware that the Israeli occupation wants to kill the hope of children and youth. Our work is to help victims build their capabilities in accordance with international law. Working as human rights defenders is to preserve hope and aspire to a better future and a just peace free of occupation and crime.’
The IHSA Annual Lecture 2024: ‘War and Humanity’
‘Human scientific efforts have been put towards generating ever-more deadly weapons, and conflicts are now most often settled militarily, rather than diplomatically; conflicts are no longer resolved through moral reason and law, nor through political negotiations, but through wars with well-organized armed forces.
‘The various legal and judicial efforts to enshrine the value of humanity in times of war have a number of shortfalls. Given that humanity is the opposite of war, human dignity requires the peaceful settlement of conflicts between and within societies. Individuals and groups should be treated in accordance with human rights standards. They have the right to live in peace and their human rights should be protected through legal systems and international human rights standards. Commitments within and between communities should be permanently respected.
There is a significant issue here with double standards, especially when we look at the refusal of Israel to follow decisions made by the International Court of Justice. If International Humanitarian Law is to be upheld, it must be upheld by everyone, regardless of their international alliances.
‘It is now time to activate the international accountability system by stopping the policy of impunity, eradicating hypocrisy and double standards, in order to reach a world free of wars, where justice and humanity prevail.
We cannot have a “two-level” system of international law and accountability. States and warring parties should not be free of their international obligations, especially around protecting civilians and the most vulnerable. If we fail to uphold standards within this war, we may find far-reaching repercussions in the future.’
The 2024 IHSA Annual Lecture was followed by a roundtable discussion on the theme of ‘War and Humanity’. The next blog in this series will include the contributions from expert panellists from that discussion.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the Authors:
Khaled Quzmar
Khaled Quzmar has worked with Defence for Children International – Palestine (DCIP), since 1985. He is a lawyer by training and profession, and as part of his work with DCIP he has represented hundreds of children held in arbitrary detention, tortured and otherwise mistreated by the Israeli government.
DCIP as an organization works on documenting human rights abuses, advocacy and campaigning on the right to a childhood. The organization also works within the Occupied Palestinian Territories, including with the Palestinian Authority, on child protection, education and access to justice. For their work on protecting the rights of children, Khaled Quzmar and DCIP were awarded the 2023 Rafto Prize.
Tom Ansell is the Coordinator of the Humanitarian Studies Centre and International Humanitarian Studies Association.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
In this blog, Ahmed Sh. Ibrahim and Nisar Majid consider how Somalia’s joining of the UN Security Council at a time when its nationally recognised government controls only a portion of its territory. With Somalia’s internal territory so fractured, the authors look at a growing gap between how the ‘international community’ treats the Somali state and how the Somali state interacts with its internal polities and citizens. This all has serious knock-on effects for our understanding of the term “sovereignty”.
On 6 June 2024 Somalia won a non-permanent seat on the UN Security Council, along with Denmark, Greece, Pakistan and Panama. As East Africa’s representative, Somalia along with the other newly elected members will join five already existing members to create the 10 non-permanent members on the Security Council. They will join the Security Council’s five permanent veto-wielding members of Britain, China, France, Russia and the United States. This two-year position, commencing in 2025, gives Somalia a voice in how the UN responds to conflicts around the world. Reacting to this development, the Foreign Minister of Somalia stated that Somalia would take up “its position on the global stage” and that “We stand ready to play a vital role in promoting peace and security in the world,” while the UN secretary general’s special representative for Somalia claimed “Somalia has come a long way over the past three decades on its path to peace, prosperity and security.”
Somalia, though, is a country that has minimal control over its territorial boundaries; with the secessionist region of Somaliland in control of the northeast of the country, various regional administrations with limited allegiance to federal authorities in central and southern regions and the militant Islamist group al-Shabaab holding arguably more territory than the government to the south. In this blog, we discuss Somalia’s election to the UN Security Council in relation to the juridico-political concept of sovereignty. We contend that Somalia’s election to the UN Security Council reveals one of the central problems with the concept of sovereignty: the disparity between a state’s internal sovereignty – a state’s ability to exercise effective control over its territory – and external sovereignty, also known as juridical sovereignty – the recognition by other states of a state’s rights to exercise control over its territory. We assert that there appears to be an increasing gap between Somalia’s ability to exercise sovereignty within its own territory and therein over its own people and its investment in external sovereignty or rather the investment of the international community in Somalia’s external sovereignty.
Sovereignty in Africa – a colonial inheritance
One of the most important concepts in contemporary political thought and practice is the juridico-political doctrine of sovereignty. The long and complicated history of this concept can be traced to the early history of state formation in Europe when it functioned as an organizing concept in debates over political authority
Since the emergence of the nation-state in Europe and its subsequent spread to the rest of the world, sovereignty has become synonymous with state authority and prerogative. As such, the specific history of this concept in African political history is deeply intertwined with the rise of the colonial state in the era of colonization. Ironically, the doctrine of sovereignty was initially part of the legitimating discourse used to justify European colonization of non-European peoples, including Africans. It was claimed that the attainment of a certain level of cultural and civilizational status was necessary in order for a particular society to legitimately claim sovereignty. Africans, as well as other colonized peoples, were too backward to exercise sovereignty over themselves, it was argued, and must be governed.
While Africans and other colonized peoples rightly celebrated the attainment of sovereignty at independence, the historical legacy of colonialism was made evident when postcolonial sovereignty was bestowed on the successor of the colonial state, the postcolonial state. In Africa, this meant that the political borders drawn by colonizing European states were to crystalise into the parameters of postcolonial juridico-political sovereignty.
Despite arguments by some African scholars that the form of sovereignty inherited from colonialism is incompatible with African political history, the Organization of African Unity (OAU) and its successor, the African Union (AU), have maintained that respect for colonial borders is a practical necessity to avoid chaos and balkanization of the continent into countless ethnic enclaves. But as the postcolonial state in Africa has come under increasing economic and political crisis, so has the contestation over sovereignty become a contemporary reality in Africa.
No region in Africa is this more evident than in the Horn, considered one of the most conflict-prone regions on the continent. A significant contributor to the region’s conflicts are contestations over sovereignty. There have been several wars in the region over the question of sovereignty, including the 1977-78 war between Ethiopia and Somalia, as well as the 1961-1992 war that led to Eritrea’s separation from Ethiopia.
The recent and highly controversial MoU between Ethiopia and Somaliland, signed on 1 January 2024, is only the latest expression of one of the fault lines of conflict in the region. The agreement gives Ethiopia access to and the right to build on land on the Somaliland coast: land that the Somali government considers to be its own sovereign territory. The disputes over sovereignty in the Horn is further exasperated by the complete disintegration of the postcolonial Somali state in 1991.
The origin of the dispute over Somaliland’s sovereignty lies in the fallout from the breakdown of the Somali Republic. After about a decade of armed rebellion by several rebel groups, the longtime military regime of Mohamed Siyad Barre fell in 1991. Subsequent to the regime’s fall, the different rebel forces failed to agree upon the formation of a new government. This failure threw the country into a prolonged period of civil war creating the longest running and the paradigmatic example of a ‘failed state’ in the contemporary world. Reflecting the socio-cultural structure of Somali society and the machinations of rebel leaders, the various rebel movements were organized on the basis of clan and regional identity. This meant that when the military regime fell in 1991, each rebel group took control of the region where their specific clan predominated. The north-eastern part of the country was taken over by the Somali National Movement (SNM), whose members were primarily from the Issaq clan. Subsequent to their takeover of the region, SNM and traditional leaders from the region (Issaq and non-Issaq) decided to unilaterally secede from Somalia in 1991.
In keeping with the dominant understanding of sovereignty in postcolonial Africa, regional authorities in Somaliland grounded their right to secede on sovereign authority inherited from the colonial state. Their argument is based on the fact that the region was a distinct colonial entity from the rest of Somalia. It was under British colonial administration from 1884-1960 and known as British Somaliland, or officially, the Somaliland Protectorate, while the rest of Somalia was colonized by Italy, Italian Somaliland. Five days after becoming independent on June 26, 1960, British Somaliland merged with Italian Somaliland to form the postcolonial state of Somalia. Separatist officials from Somaliland argue that they are separating from Somalia and reclaiming the sovereign statehood, which was lost when the region voluntarily united with Italian Somaliland. This argument is made with an eye to the AU’s position that the political borders inherited upon independence should be the basis of African sovereignty and statehood.
Subsequent to its unilateral declaration of independence, Somaliland has created a relatively effective governance structure combining indigenous and modern forms of governance mechanisms. Consequently, and for the most part, Somaliland exercises a certain level of internal sovereignty, especially when compared with the rest of Somalia, where there has not been an effective internal authority since the fall of the state in 1991. Even Somaliland’s internal sovereignty and legitimacy was always more contested than claimed and has arguably weakened in recent years, including most evidently in the form of the Las Anod conflict. Despite its arguments and relative stability, however, no state has recognized Somaliland’s claim to sovereign statehood, That said, Somaliland does maintain quasi-official diplomatic relations with some countries (Ethiopia) as well as other contested/semi-recognised polities (Taiwan).
Somalia’s internal sovereignty is limited both by the secessionist Somaliland (as indicated above), but also by highly autonomous regional states, such as Puntland, whose formation precedes that of the Federal Government of Somalia, as well as by the persistence of al-Shabaab, whose own lifespan is longer than the Federal government, and which opposes the current Somali state.
Since the establishment of this governmental arrangement Somalia is now in its third Presidential election cycle. As a sovereign entity it largely operates as a series of city states, divided between the Federal Government based in Mogadishu, operating out of a bunkerised ‘green zone’ and the Federal Member States, each with its own limitations on territorial control and legitimacy. Al-Shabaab holds sway over large swathes of the rural hinterland as well as possessing a strong extra-territorial power, is able to tax business and people in government-held territory and operates a sharia’a based judicial system that many people utilise as it is considered both relatively fair/just and has the coercive capacity that ensures judgements are implemented.
Aisha Ahmad et al. argue that in fact there are two key parallel political bargains in Somalia, an elite political deal or bargain between members of the Federal Government and Federal Member States and a civilian deal which al-Shabaab establishes with citizens under its influence. The former deal is essentially backed up by the international community in the name of state sovereignty, and which serves to undermine the incentive for the government to develop a social compact with much of its population.
For many Somalis as well as many in the international community who work in and on Somalia, there is increasing recognition that domestic governance or internal sovereignty is not progressing even as the federal authorities in Mogadishu are increasingly invested by the international community with more powers of external/juridical sovereignty.
Conclusions
Somalia’s acceptance on the UN Security Council continues this external legitimising dynamic – and external sovereignty – with limited signs on the ground that government – whether at the national, regional or local levels – is acting to improve its legitimacy with local populations, or that negotiations are taking place with either Somaliland or al-Shabaab, to further develop its internal sovereignty. It is in fact possible to argue that the continued legitimization of the Somali government by the international community in the name of sovereignty disincentivises government authorities from acting to consolidate internal sovereignty by investing in effective governance structures, improving its legitimacy with the local population through service provisioning and negotiating with the various competing authorities throughout the country. While reconciling the Westphalian notion of sovereignty with the complicated realities of African states struggling to exert internal and external sovereignty has always been difficult, the situation in Somalia underscores not only this country’s struggle with sovereignty, but the potential for contradictions between the external trappings of sovereignty and the internal reality.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the Authors:
Dr. Ahmed Sh. Ibrahim
Dr. Ahmed Sh. Ibrahim is a socio-cultural anthropologist with a PhD from the Graduate Center, City University of New York (CUNY). He is currently an anthropology instructor with Carleton College’s Ecology and Anthropology Program in Tanzania. Dr. Ibrahim has done research in the Horn of Africa and among the African diaspora in the U.S. with a focus on the history and politics of religion, political conflicts and immigration. His research has appeared in peer-reviewed academic journals, edited volumes, and popular websites such as Africa is a Country and Responsible Statecraft. He can be reached at ahmedf95@gmail.com.
Dr. Nisar Majid
Dr. Nisar Majid is the research director for the PeaceRep (Somalia) programme at the LSE. He has worked in and on the Horn of Africa and the Somali territories for over 20 years, in various applied and research capacities. His areas of research have included food security and famine studies, humanitarianism, and diaspora studies. He is the co-author of ‘Famine in Somalia, Competing Imperatives, Collective Failures’, 2011-12 (Hurst). He can be reached at N.Majid1@lse.ac.uk.
Are you looking for more content about Global Development and Social Justice? Subscribe to Bliss, the official blog of the International Institute of Social Studies, and stay updated about interesting topics our researchers are working on.
This website uses functional and anonymised analytics cookies (basic cookies). Would you also like to accept or decline marketing cookies? If no choice is made, only basic cookies will be set.
By 
A humanitarian crisis with multiple consequences
Kalehe is one of the territories in the province of South-Kivu located in the northern side of Bukavu city (capital city of South-Kivu province). It covers the Eastern littoral of the Kivu Lake in Eastern DRC. Decades ago, there was a large tree-planting effort to protect the environment. In recent years, however, Kalehe’s population has grown rapidly due to the presence of Internally Displaced People (IDPs) in the territory. As a result of this, Kalehe has experienced widescale and rapid deforestation and loss of grassland in the middle and high plateaux to produce wood and charcoal without planting other trees.
In the night of 4 May 2023, heavy rains caused water levels to rise,as well as flooding in some villages of the Bushushu groupement in the Buhavu chiefdom of this territory. The Lukungula River of Bushushu, and the Kamikonzi River in Nyamukubi went beyond their limits, resulting in flooding and spreading of mixture of water, large stones, and mud in four out of seven sub villages of the locality, particularly Bushushu, Kabuchungu, Nyamukubi and Musumba. The humanitarian consequences of this were dramatic and multiform: 5525 people missing, more than 513 bodies buried, more than 2046 houses totally destroyed, more than 562 families mourning, many schools and health centres destroyed, loss of household assets including tables, chairs, and loss of documents of value such as electoral cards. The DRC HO team conducted fieldwork from 29 through 30 June 2023 in the area to know more about the crisis. 
Domestic fires in Bukavu: some challenges in humanitarian assistance
Combatting these quick-spreading fires poses significant challenges, including those related to humanitarian assistance delivery.
