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Experiences and observations of Hurricane Melissa’s path through Cuba: preparations, sanctions, and citizen networks

By ISS Blog Bliss 18 November 2025 918 views

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 21^st. 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 21^st. 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 29^th, 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 31^st, 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.

Originally published in Italian on Left.

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.

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The Politics of Food and Technology Series | Asserting Digital Sovereignty: The Politics of Internet Shutdowns in Africa

By ISS Blog Bliss 13 November 202514 November 2025 1014 views

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 entitled In 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.

Politics of Food and Technology Series | The Politics of Food and Digital Technologies in Changing Global and Local Crises

By ISS Blog Bliss 6 November 202520 November 2025 1022 views

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.

Acknowledgement: Many thanks to my colleagues Susanne Jaspars, C. Sathyamala, Tamer Abd Elkreem, and Iris Lim for discussions, review, and comments on an earlier version of this blog. We work together on the ESRC-funded research project examining the effects of digitalising food assistance.

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.

From Hands-On to High-Tech: How Dutch Care Workers Navigate Digitalization and Robotization

By ISS Blog Bliss 4 November 2025 1177 views

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?

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 works 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 of Development and Change.

Sanctions and boycotts are a proven way to increase pressure on the Israeli government to completely end the continuing genocide in Gaza after the ceasefire

By ISS Blog Bliss 30 October 2025 1398 views

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’?

**Photo by Ahmed Abu Hameeda on Unsplash**

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.

The Netherlands imports about 230 million euro worth of food that is labelled as products from ‘Israel’. These often include food products from occupied territories on the West Bank that have been relabelled since the Israeli government does not make a distinction between products from the territories it illegally occupies and the State of Israel. Moreover, the Netherlands allows the Dutch firm Booking.com to continue offering accommodation in illegal settlements.

Arms embargo

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 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 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.

Risks and Rewards: Why do African graduates in Slovakia stay or move on?

By ISS Blog Bliss 28 October 202529 January 2026 772 views

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.

**Source: CVTI SR- Statistical Yearbook- universities (2024/2025)**

The motivations for choosing Slovakia

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 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 (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.

What is Frugal About Gig Platforms?

By ISS Blog Bliss 27 October 2025 607 views

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.

Conclusion

These access barriers and costs suggest that gig platforms are less frugal than other digital platforms. Similar to critiques of M-PESA and lending platforms like Jumo, gig platforms may expand economic opportunities in the short term but also deepen dependency on platforms and create new inequalities. Participation divides are likely to persist or widen, with those lacking digital access or formal documentation left behind.

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:

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 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 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.

Epistemic (Ir)relevance, Language & Passport Positionality The three hurdles I’m navigating as a UK-based Ethiopian academic

By ISS Blog Bliss 16 October 2025 664 views

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.

**Ethiopian – Leaf from Gunda Gunde Gospels from Walters Arts Museum on Wikimedia**

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)

Despite this, the modernist Ethiopian elites that designed the “modern” Ethiopian education system could not envision reaching the promised land of Westernisation without fully embracing English, in some cases French, and systematically disregarding their rich local languages.

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.

This blog was first published by the European Assosciation of Development Research and Training Institute

Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.

About the author:

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.