Solidarity under Siege: Germany’s crackdown on the Palestine movement

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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 report for 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.

Photo by Mohammed Abubakr

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:

  1. 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
  2. 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
  1. 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 citizenship after 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. 

Politics of Food and Technology Series | Food crisis in the UK and the digitalisation of welfare: Bridging gaps or deepening marginalisation?

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 

The shift to digital has coincided with the systemic erosions of physical spaces where people could previously get face-to-face help. Austerity policies since 2010 have driven library closures, reduced hours of available community support and cut staff across England. Even where physical spaces of support persist, limited opening days, travel costs, and absent staff constrain access. People fill these gaps by paying to print from private internet cafes or taking longer bus journeys seeking help where they can.   

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:

Dr Iris Lim | SOAS
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.

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IHSA Conference Series: A shrinking humanitarian space requires a New Way of Thinking

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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. 

Photo Credit: Chris F via Pexels

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 Theory have 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 solidarity with 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.’ 

This blog presents arguments and ideas published in a short article entitled ‘Resetting the Moral compass’ Global Policy, 26 August 2025 https://www.globalpolicyjournal.com/blog/26/08/2025/resetting-moral-compass and an earlier piece An Ordinary Humanitarian Society’ in Public Anthropologist, 20th August 2025 https://publicanthropologist.cmi.no/2025/08/20/an-ordinary-humanitarian-society-trust-and-solidarity-in-contexts-of-confrontation/ 

 

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

 

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Europe’s Silent Middle: Why Migration Isn’t the Polarised Fight You Think It Is

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.

Photo Credit: Rob Curran

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.

 

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16 Days of Activism Against GBV Blog Series| Holding Both Ends of the Line in the fight Against Digital Violence

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.

 

What Do We Mean by ‘Digital Violence’?

Without a universal conceptualization, this phenomenon operates under a cluster of terms, each highlighting a different aspect of this menace.

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

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16 Days Activism Against GBV Series| Beyond Convictions: Rethinking gender justice through survivors’ lived experiences

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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. 

Photo credit: Unsplash

The limits of legal victories

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.

 

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16 Days Activism Against GBV Series| Pursuing Justice for Survivors of CRSV in Ukraine: Gender and Intersectionality Considerations

Since the first recognition of conflict-related sexual violence (CRSV) by the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY)  in its jurisprudence Furundžija) 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.

 

Photo by Jan Kopřiva on Unsplash

 

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.

 

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

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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:

  1. 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 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.

 

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

 

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

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

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

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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.

(Image: Joe Brusky on Flickr)

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

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.

 

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Early Warning is one of the most important components of Disaster Risk Reduction – and one of the most successful!

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.

Photo Credit: UNDRR

Introduction – DRR on multiple levels

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).

It’s all put together as the following formula:

Risk = Hazard x Vulnerability x Exposure
Coping capacity

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.

 

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Exporting ESG: Can EU Standards Deliver Fair Sustainability in Global South contexts?

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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.

Image Credit: Wikimedia

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.

The Global Reach of European ESG  Standards

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 regulations shape economic, social, and ecological outcomes in the Global South? 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?

Economic Development: Opportunity or Exclusion?

Access to Green Markets 

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.

Social Development: Empowerment or Imposition?

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.

Environmental Governance: Protection or Appropriation?

Ecological Safeguards

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.

Sovereignty Concerns

Yet, these ecological gains may come at the cost of local autonomy and environmental justice. As the Rights and Resources Initiative (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.

Toward Inclusive ESG: A  Pluriversal Approach

To ensure that ESG regulation contributes to truly equitable sustainability, fundamental shifts in both process and substance are essential:

Co-creation and Shared Governance

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.

Capacity Building and Transition Support

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.

Just Transition Integration

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.

Beyond ComplianceToward Transformation

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.

 

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Society Must Be Defended! Rethinking Defence and Security in the age of Cognitive Warfare and the WPS Agenda

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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.

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To address recurring crises, we must attempt global development policy reforms

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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’.  

Photo by John Cameron on Unsplash

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.

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Truth on demand: The politics of using and dismissing migration research (PACES Blog Series)

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.

All these assumptions have long been debunked by detailed academic research on the counter-productive effects of sanctions and securitisation, on the difficulties of reception in the region, on the effects of development aid, and on the nuanced realities of migrant decision making.

Disregard of knowledge in politicized areas

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.

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Amsterdam’s Troubling Children’s Book

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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: Reddit
The 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.

This blog was first published by the Contrapuntal

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.

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Polycrisis and reasons for hope at the Humanitarian Leadership Conference: a practitioners’ perspective

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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:

  1. In times of polycrisis, what is one challenge and one opportunity for you and your organization?
  2. 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.

The result is a short podcast series, which includes a bonus track recorded with Lars Peter Nissen, author of Trumanitarian.

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 Changeand 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.

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Home(s) in the In-Between: Trauma, Memory, Identity and Belonging in Home Game by Lidija Zelović

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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.

 

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The need for ‘Impact’: whatever ‘Impact’ means

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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 Humanitarian bridges 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.

 

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Humanitarian Observatories Series | USAID suspension is a wake-up call to address fragility of Humanitarian Actions in Ethiopia

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. Hordofa
Alemayehu 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 Angerasa
Marga 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