The Dutch have voted. Migration was once again front and centre. Campaigns warned of crises, headlines framed Europe as divided. Open borders versus closed minds, compassion versus control. It all sounds like Europe has taken sides.
But has it?
New research from the PACES project, led by Anne-Marie Jeannet, Associate Professor at the Department of Social and Political Science, University of Milan, suggests a quieter, more nuanced reality.
Most Europeans are not at the extremes. They sit somewhere in the middle. Ambivalent, thoughtful, and conflicted, they recognise that migration can be both necessary and challenging. They want rules and fairness, but, they also care about protecting people in need. Europeans Want Balance and Fairness.
The findings show that Europeans tend to support strong border control and structured return policies, conditional welfare benefits, and targeted regularisation schemes. For example, this could include returning rejected asylum seekers, limiting benefits to those who meet certain conditions, and allowing some undocumented migrants to stay legally.
Immigration policies that included returning migrants with criminal convictions were over 10 percent more likely to be supported than those that did not. By contrast, policies proposing to contain asylum seekers in third-country camps were 4 percent more likely to be rejected, as were policies offering residential or tax-based incentives to attract migrants (3 percent more likely). Overall, the study shows that the public favours policies that are lawful and orderly, but not excessively restrictive.
The silent middle often resolves tensions between competing values using mental shortcuts, or heuristics. Citizens distinguish between authorised and unauthorised migrants and between law-abiding and criminal individuals when forming policy opinions. When rules are transparent and fair, trust grows. Yet migration policies are often viewed as unclear, which can fuel fear.
The Middle Is Large, But Quiet
This middle majority is easily overlooked. Loud, extreme voices dominate headlines, giving the impression that Europeans are either for or against migration. In reality, most people hold multiple, sometimes conflicting, values: humanitarian concern, fairness, and a desire for order. They recognise that migration is not simply good or bad — it is a normal part of social life that can bring benefits, challenges, and everything in between. Rather than choosing sides, they weigh trade-offs, evaluate policies conditionally, and respond to evidence.
As World Migrants Day approaches on the 18th of December, perhaps it is time to move beyond framing people as simply for or against migration. These debates often make me wonder why so many of us feel torn about it. Many people say they want to help refugees while also wanting borders to be managed, or that they support integration but worry about pressure on housing or jobs. That mix of concerns is not a contradiction. It reflects the complexity of real life.
It also raises further questions: why is it so difficult for the silent middle to express their moderate views? Is it a lack of knowledge, a lack of interest, or simply the noise of polarised debate? And what would it take to bring these more balanced voices into the conversation?
Migration is more than a policy debate. It is a mirror reflecting our values, fears, and hopes. Acknowledging the silent middle, the thoughtful but often conflicted majority, opens the door to conversations and policies that reflect reality rather than rhetoric. And the next time you read that Europe has turned against migration, it is worth remembering that while extreme voices are loud, a much larger, quieter middle is watching.
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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Prevailing responses to digital violence against women and girls are largely reactive— demanding justice after a case of revenge-porn, doxxing or cyber-bullying has already destroyed a life, livelihood or a sense of safety. This crisis has become an emergency: globally,16-58% of women have experienced a form of online violence, and in Nigeria 45% of women self-report experiencing digital violence. Yet we continue to treat symptoms while the architecture that enables digital violence remains unchallenged.
We are holding only one end of the line.
In this blog, Emaediong Akpan argues for a dual approach that addresses both the structural and the cultural dimensions of this crisis. First, we must hold tech platforms and legal systems accountable for the technological architectures that enable abuse. Second, we must transform how we prepare and support the next generation, beginning with digital literacy from childhood. This strategy is not about making users responsible for their own safety but about building communal resilience against the weaponized shame that is digital abuse’s core tactic. By treating survivors with unwavering belief and care, we challenge the culture of silence and place shame where it belongs—with the abusers and the systems that grant them anonymity and virality.
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, to ‘protect’ women and girls after they have experienced harm in digital spaces. However, according to Amnesty International, 76% of women report altering their online behavior due to abuse. This statistic reveals the limitation of our reactionary approach. We are treating the consequences of digital violence but failing to confront the architecture that exposes women and girls to harm.
Our reactionary approach, though vital, is a partial victory at best — it means holding one end of the line. My call is to extend our hands and hold both ends.
The reactionary approach operates after the fact, after the harm has been done. It fails to confront the underlying issue: a digital ecosystem that is engineered through its architecture, business model and algorithms to facilitate and profit from such harm. To address digital violence against women and girls, we must adopt a dual-approach. This approach requires us to hold the line of platform accountability on one hand while engaging in foundational prevention rooted in early digital literacy and communal care on the other.
Understanding the Impact of Digital Violence on Women’s Participation in Public Life
Globally, 16-58% of women have experience online violence. In Nigeria, 45% of women self-report experiencing digital violence, with girls aged 12-17 and young women up to 35 being targeted.85% of women globally have witnessed digital violence such as cyberbullying, false and misleading smear campaigns, doxxing, image and text-based threats and more. Although the forms of digital violence vary, the motive remains the same: to shame, silence, and exclude women and girls from public life. Below I explain the impact of two particularly insidious forms.
Cyber-Stalking:Research indicates that an estimated 7.5 million people have experienced cyberstalking, demonstrating that anyone with a smartphone, social-media or GPS-enabled device is vulnerable. Data from domestic violence programs in multiple countries indicates that 71-85% of domestic violence perpetrators use technology from smartphones and GPS to spyware—to stalk, monitor and threaten survivors. The intimate violence of the physical world now follows women into every digital space, collapsing any boundary between public and private life.
I use “digital violence” throughout this piece 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—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 daughters 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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Sexual violence response systems rely on a workforce of caregivers who bear witness to trauma daily. Yet, the vicarious trauma eroding these responders’ wellbeing is dangerously overlooked. Drawing on her personal frontline experience, Emaediong Akpan argues that caring for survivors is impossible without caring for those who serve them.
Photo Credit: Unsplash
Bearing Witness in a Broken System
Drawing on my professional experience in sexual violence response, I have encountered two parallel realities. The first is the survivor’s journey marked by courage, fragmented by institutional demands, and too often complicated secondary victimization—the trauma inflicted by the very systems meant to provide justice. The second, less visible reality is that of the responders: the advocates, nurses, law enforcement officers, and counselors who absorb these narratives daily.
Across different roles, a common experience is a deep sense of professional and personal isolation. Many legal professionals, for instance, describe a deep conflict between the rigid demands of procedure and the human impulse to offer comfort, leaving them feeling like instruments of a process rather than agents of care. This profound alienation is not a personal failing; it is a structural byproduct of work that demands profound empathy while offering inadequate structural support.
During the 16 Days of Activism Against Gender-Based Violence, our discourse rightly centers survivor voices and systemic accountability. However, I argue that this discourse remains critically incomplete if it does not also address the vicarious trauma permeating the response workforce. This is not about shifting focus from survivors, but about recognizing a fundamental truth: a system that consumes its caregivers is a system destined to fail those it seeks to serve. Neglecting the responder’s wellbeing is a direct, measurable detriment to survivor care, addressing it becomes a non-negotiable pillar of gender justice.
Beyond Burnout, Toward Transformation
To understand the true nature of this crisis, we must move beyond everyday words like “stress” or “burnout.” The core psychological hazard for trauma workers is vicarious trauma (VT). Grounded in seminal work by McCann and Pearlman, VT is understood as a cumulative and transformative process. It is not simply about feeling tired or sad. Rather, it is the profound, often permanent, change in a helper’s own inner world, their beliefs, memories, and sense of self, that results from repeatedly and empathetically engaging with the traumatic material of those they serve.
The key mechanism is the disruption of what psychologists call cognitive schemas. These are our most basic psychological frameworks, our deep-seated beliefs about safety, trust, esteem, intimacy, and control. Vicarious trauma forces these frameworks to change. Repeated exposure to traumatic stories creates a confrontation that our existing worldview can’t absorb. To cope, the mind is forced to rebuild its understanding of reality, leading to a profound shift: the helper’s worldview itself can become more pessimistic, fearful, and fragile.
This is what makes VT different. It’s not the same as compassion fatigue (which is the wearing down of your empathy) or burnout (which is general exhaustion from work stress). While those conditions are about depletion, VT is about alteration. It does not just tire you out; it can fundamentally and lastingly change how you see the world and your place in it.
The Perfect Storm: How Sexual Violence Work Fuels Vicarious Trauma
The nature of sexual violence response doesn’t just risk vicarious trauma, it actively creates the ideal conditions for it to take root and thrive. It is defined by a double exposure that sets it apart.
First, there is the chronic, cumulative exposure to traumatic material. Survivors are often caught in a relentless “testimonial spiral,” required to narrate their assault repeatedly, to police, medical examiners, prosecutors, and multiple counselors. Each time they narrate their experiences even though procedurally necessary, it is psychologically costly, forcing the responder to bear witness to graphic, intimate details of violence not once, but over and over again.
Second, and just as negatively impactful, is the exposure to systemic and procedural betrayal. We are not just witnesses to the original trauma. We become firsthand observers of how institutions can fail survivors: through skeptical questioning informed by rape myths, invasive forensic exams with little psychosocial support, and the devastating attrition of cases through plea bargains or dismissal. This generates more than empathy; it creates moral injury, the profound distress that comes from witnessing actions that violate our core sense of justice and ethics. The helper is thus traumatized by both the client’s story and the system’s failure.
This ‘perfect storm’ is intensified by the composition of the workforce. The victim services sector is predominantly female, reflecting the broader gendered landscape of care work. Furthermore, it includes a significant number of survivors who enter the field through a validated ‘survivor-to-survivor’ model of advocacy,a testament to the movement’s grassroots origins that value lived experience as expertise. While this brings profound empathy and insight, scholars note it also layers personal vulnerability onto professional exposure, a combination that is too rarely met with the robust structural safeguards it demands.
The Architecture of Neglect: Systemic Drivers of Vicarious Trauma
It is important to note that VT is not an accidental outcome; it is manufactured by systemic failures across multiple levels.
a. The Political Economy of Care Work
Victim services are notoriously underfunded, relying on precarious grants and charitable funding. This translates into low salaries, high caseloads, and chronic understaffing, conditions directly correlated with VT severity. Workers, often women, are asked to perform emotionally extreme labour with economic precarity, a classic example of the gendered devaluation of care.
b. Institutional Illiteracy
Many criminal justice and healthcare institutions lack trauma-informed organizational practices. Supervision is often administrative, not clinical or reflective. There are rarely protocols for routine psychological debriefing, caseload management to prevent saturation, or mandated “cool-down” periods between intense cases. New, younger advocates, those most vulnerable to secondary traumatic stress, are frequently thrown into the deep end without adequate mentorship (as highlighted in my own training materials).
c. Cultural Stigma and the “Strong Helper”
Especially within masculinized domains like law enforcement, a culture of stoicism prevails. Help-seeking is stigmatized as weakness, with legitimate fears about confidentiality breaches and career repercussions. Studies indicate that a majority of first responders are reluctant to seek support due to perceived professional risks. The culture of stoicism, particularly in criminal justice roles, stigmatizes help-seeking. People fear being seen as weak or unfit, forcing distress underground and often leading to maladaptive coping mechanisms like substance use.
d. Professional Isolation and Erasure
Those in roles like victim advocacy, often situated uneasily between community and court, can experience “trauma hierarchy,” where their exposure is minimized compared to “first responders.” This lack of validation exacerbates feelings of isolation and invisibility, stripping away a protective sense of shared purpose.
e. The Inevitable Consequence: Compromised Survivor Care
My argument is that the systemic production of VT is not merely an occupational health issue. It actively degrades the quality and ethics of survivor services.
Attrition of Expertise: Vicarious trauma is a primary driver of high turnover. When a skilled, trauma-informed advocate burns out and leaves, survivors lose continuity, a relationship of trust is severed, and institutional memory evaporates. This constant churn keeps organizations in a state of novice crisis, unable to develop deep expertise.
The Erosion of Empathetic Capacity: Compassion fatigue, a precursor or companion to VT, manifests as detachment, cynicism, and emotional numbing. A responder struggling with these symptoms cannot provide the authentic, patient, and validating presence that trauma recovery requires. Interactions become transactional, potentially replicating the impersonal harm of secondary victimization.
Impaired Judgment and Ethical Risk: VT’s cognitive disruptions, hypervigilance, pervasive pessimism, disrupted boundaries, can lead to clinical errors, inappropriate self-disclosure, or burnout-driven shortcuts in care. Pearlman & Saakvitne (1995) warn that unaddressed VT can lead to boundary violations, where the helper’s own unmet needs distort the therapeutic relationship.
The Silencing of Advocacy: A responder drowning in unprocessed trauma loses the energy for systemic advocacy. The fight to change oppressive policies, challenge rape myths in court, or secure better resources requires a reserve of righteous anger and hope. VT depletes that reserve, creating a workforce that is too exhausted to challenge the very systems that harm both them and their clients.
In summary, a workforce without proper support becomes a fragile system designed to carry immense weight but lacks the reinforcement to do so safely or indefinitely. Because it cannot sustainably hold the weight of survivor trauma, and it will inevitably fracture, with survivors bearing the consequences of the collapse.
Toward a New Paradigm: From Individual Self-Care to Structural Accountability
The common prescription of “self-care” places the burden of resilience on the individual, obscuring the systemic origins of the harm. We must demand a shift toward “system-care” and structural accountability.
Mandate and Fund Psychological Infrastructure: This must be a budget line, not a perk. Agencies need embedded, confidential mental health services specializing in trauma-exposed professions. Funding bodies must tie grants to the existence of realistic caseload limits, competitive salaries, and wellness protocols.
Implement Trauma-Informed Supervision: Replace purely administrative oversight with reflective, clinically-informed supervision that normalizes discussion of VT, provides strategies for cognitive integration, and safeguards boundaries. Models like that proposed by Harrison & Westwood (2009) have shown efficacy in reducing VT.
Dismantle Stigma Through Leadership: Institutional leaders must model vulnerability and help-seeking. Peer support programs, with rigorous confidentiality safeguards, can create culturally-competent spaces for processing within the workforce itself.
Integrate Resilience into Training: Education for responders must begin before first contact with survivors. Training should include psychoeducation on VT, grounding techniques, boundary-setting skills, and clear pathways to support, framing resilience as a core professional competency.
Conclusion: My Call for an Unbreakable Chain of Justice
As we concluded the 16 Days of Activism , we must commit to a more holistic vision of justice. The fight against gender-based violence is fought on multiple fronts: in the courtroom, the hospital, the therapist’s office, and the advocate’s office desk. These fronts are connected by people. If the people on the front lines of care are being psychologically depleted by the very structure of that care, we have designed a self-defeating system.
Caring for survivors and ensuring the wellbeing of those who care for them are inseparable goals.They represent two halves of a single ethical imperative. We cannot build a survivor-centered response on the broken well-being of the workforce. Investing in the resilience of responders, through funding, institutional change, and cultural shift, is not a diversion from survivor justice. It is the most pragmatic investment we can make in its sustainability and quality.
The witness who is heard, the advocate who can stay present, the nurse who maintains compassion, the officer who conducts a trauma-informed interview, these are not just individuals doing a job. They are the living, breathing infrastructure of a just response. It is time we built that infrastructure to last.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts solely reflects the views of the author of the post in question.
About the author:
Emaediong Akpan is a legal practitioner and an alumna of the International Institute of Social Studies. With extensive experience in the development sector, Emaediong Akpan’s work spans gender equity, social inclusion, and policy advocacy. She is also interested in exploring the intersections of law, technology, and feminist policy interventions to promote safer digital environments. Read her blogs here: 1,2, 3, 4.
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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.
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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Since the first recognition of conflict-related sexual violence (CRSV) by the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY) in its jurisprudenceFurundžija) to the recognition of gender as a ground for persecution by the International Criminal Court[para 936], International Criminal Law (ICL) has increasingly addressed CRSV, but there is still a long way to go. Inspired by the ICL Conference on Gender Justice and through the application of a feminist and intersectional lens, Katerina Lefkidou examines current challenges in addressing CRSV in Ukraine.
Conflict Related Sexual Violence (CRSV) in Ukraine
As CRSV increasingly calls for accountability mechanisms shaped through converging feminist, intersectional, and survivor-centered approaches, Ukraine appears to be a State that is at least willing to listen. With the adoption of Law 4067-IX in 2025, which provides CRSV survivors with interim reparations, and through the development of new Standard Operating Procedures (SOPs) for the investigation and prosecution of CRSV, some steps are being taken in the right direction. However, a closer look shows that many issues remain unsolved. Since the full-scale invasion in February 2022, 385 CRSV investigations have been opened by the Ukrainian Office of the Prosecutor General, with 21 individuals convicted. Other international actors report higher numbers, which keep rising. However, these 21 convictions (mainly direct perpetrators), are a result of approximately 10 cases, which is quite low considering the reported figures.
Two main situations have been identified where CRSV has been systematically used by Russian forces throughout the conflict: 1) during house searches or forced visits carried out in occupied areas, and 2) as a form of torture against individuals detained, both civilians and prisoners of war (POWs), in “filtration points” and official/unofficial detention facilities. In the first case, most victims are women and girls; in the latter, the majority of survivors have been men [para 47]. Nevertheless, only cases of CRSV concerning women and girls have reached decisions in criminal proceedings. CRSV has been especially prevalent against Ukrainian POWs; 119 out of the 169 interviewed by the United Nations Human Rights Monitoring Mission in Ukraine reported having experienced CRSV [para 30].
Challenges in reporting CRSV in Ukraine and gender roles
According to the International Independent Commission of Inquiry on Ukraine, CRSV is under-reported in the conflict, and survivors are reluctant to speak out due to gender stereotypes, religious and family considerations, and stigma, especially in rural areas [para 630]. Incidents have been reported where survivors were treated disrespectfully by authorities and then consequently withdrew their complaints [para 93]. The recently launched platform “Було так” (“It Happened This Way”) created by Ukrainian Women Lawyers Association “JurFem” for survivors to share their experiences, particularly with law enforcement, also indicates the urgency of this problem. Further, survivors have even fled their home or even the country due to fear of stigma and blame from close ones and broader society, or reprisals from the Russian authorities. Additional obstacles include the harmful re-enforcement of gender stereotypes and stigma in CRSV media coverage [paras 630-636].
Bias shaped through gender roles—such as the culture of victim blaming, which especially affects women—has emerged in various examples. In Bucha, a woman who was raped by Russian soldiers to prevent the rape of her 13-year old daughter, later faced stigmatization and was even investigated for collaboration with the Russian forces. The gender paradigm shapes the stigma for male survivors, too. As reported by the All Survivors Project, Ukrainian culture often depicts men as defenders and fighters. Acts of CRSV challenge this sense of masculinity, making men less likely to disclose their trauma for fear it will be perceived as a sign of “weakness,” incompatible with traditional gender expectations. According to the Commission of Inquiry, men are more inclined to report torture without the sexual aspects [para 632]. Gender stereotypes also influence investigators, who frequently do not ask questions about potential CRSV when interviewing male victims of violence. Social perception of sexual identity is also relevant. The Russian Federation has exploited the cultural prejudice against LGBTQI+ people by actively seeking out LGBTQI+ people as targets of CRSV, and by systematically employing CRSV against non LGBTQI+ males. Consequently, male survivors of CRSV are branded as “weak” and “unnatural”, not in line with the role of “strong, straight, cisgender male.”
Intersectional dimension of CRSV
As long established by feminist theory, sexual violence is not an expression of sexual desire, but a means of conveying dominance, relying on the enforcement of rigidly defined gender roles. Furthermore, it is rooted in structural inequalities, and gender is not the only relevant variable. Socioeconomic status, for example, plays a key role in the commission, reporting, investigation, prosecution, and outcome of CRSV cases. Engagement with accountability mechanisms is only possible if basic needs of survivors are covered [para 634]. Poverty enhances vulnerability; survivors have often endured CRSV as a means for survival and may not even be able to identify that what has happened to them may qualify as CRSV. An example presents the experience of a woman in Kherson province, who, during the Russian occupation, moved in with a man for safety and protection. He instead exploited her and ultimately facilitated her rape by Russian soldiers.
Conclusion
A clear understanding of how gender norms, and other underlying factors of discrimination are manifested in Ukrainian society is paramount in order to fully address CRSV perpetrated in Ukraine. As reiterated throughout the conference, advancing gender justice requires holistic policy reforms that go beyond supporting domestic justice and include education and awareness efforts around gender bias aimed at collective societal change. Further, many survivors still require support to come forward and, ultimately, seek justice. It is vital that Ukraine continues its efforts in this area to pursue accountability for the full scope of CRSV crimes resulting from the Russian occupation and the ongoing armed conflict.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the author:
Katerina Lefkidou
Katerina Lefkidou holds an LL.M. in International Human Rights Law from the University of Groningen. Her research interests include themes such as gender justice, equality and reproductive rights. She is a qualified lawyer, registered with the Athens Bar Association.
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This blog post is based on the keynote speech delivered by Michelle Jarvis at the Gender Justice in International Criminal Law Conference, held on 29–30 September 2025 in The Hague, the Netherlands. The event was organized in partnership with the Gender Justice Practitioner Hub, Women’s Initiatives for Gender Justice, Legal Action Worldwide, the Legal Mobilization Platform and the International Institute of Social Studies.
In this blog, Jarvis emphasizes that achieving true gender justice in international criminal law requires transforming not only the outcomes of justice processes but also the deep gender structures that operate both within societies and within the institutions responsible for delivering justice.The views expressed are Jarvis’ personal views and do not necessarily reflect the views of the IIIM-Syria or the United Nations.
Between 2023 and 2024, I followed the scoping phase for the Gender Justice Practitioner (GJP) Hub – funded by the Australian Government and implemented by Legal Action Worldwide. It was an unprecedented opportunity to consult practitioners around the world working on accountability for international crimes. Over 18 months, nine regional roundtables and dozens of expert interviews, we reached more than 800 practitioners. We asked some pressing questions about the blockages they face, what would help them the most and how we, as a field of practice, can strengthen overall gender justice outcomes.
One thing was seared on my mind from the discussions: the hunger across our field of practice for connection, solidarity and support – within and across, the national, regional and international levels.
As a practitioner working on accountability mandates over the past 25 years, I knew from my own experience the sense of disconnection inside our individual institutions, due in part to the ad hoc nature of this work. But I was stunned by the depth of the sentiment expressed about the emotional toll on practitioners and our collective alarm over hard-fought gains being eroded in a heartbeat.
Now we find ourselves here, in September 2025, in a world riddled with escalating attacks on the very principle of gender equality, unabashed efforts to dominate people and populations and unprecedented pressure on our ever-more fragile institutions. Still, we have to be honest about the historical shortcomings embedded in our institutions – from a gender perspective and from many other perspectives as well. But, after-all, the cracks are where the light gets in. We can choose to see this as a time of opportunity.
Three key considerations may guide us to move in this direction. The first thing is getting clarity on the vision of the world we want to see. Daring to speak it out loud – if we can do so safely. And when that is not possible, finding other ways to direct our energy to it. Creating a collective narrative that can help us shape our reality. We need a new imagining of humanity, to counter the mounting and alarmingly effective narratives of domination, separation, division and greed.
And perhaps we need to go back to basics. The vision of the world that I would like to see can be very simply stated: peaceful, flourishing communities, living within planetary environmental boundaries. Surely that is at least a starting point we can all agree on?
But how do we move in that direction? For me, one urgent piece of the puzzle is repairing and rebuilding communities torn apart by conflict-related atrocities. I have spent most of my career grappling with the role that justice plays in this process.
Of course, if we achieve this vision of peaceful, flourishing communities, there will be no more atrocities and no need for justice processes to address them. Perhaps we should dare to set a bold target as part of our vision – ‘in 20 years’ time, justice processes for atrocity crimes will be obsolete’.
If we were to take up a challenge like that for atrocity crimes, we have some deep thinking to do about what our justice processes need to deliver to truly help repair and rebuild communities. We say ‘no peace without justice’. But what kind of justice? We need justice processes that expose and condemn the structural drivers of atrocity crimes, to help us dismantle them.
We see flecks of this thinking embedded in the design of our international criminal law frameworks. Some provisions were specifically developed to expose certain discriminatory drivers of crimes, such as race, ethnicity, nationality, politics and religion. However, gendered structures have not, historically, been recognised. Although we have made some progress with the Rome Statute’s recognition of gender persecution, we have been very slow to apply this provision and, so far, the results are sparse.
Overall, we have struggled to address the structural elements of gender in international criminal law, despite their pervasive role in driving crimes; exacerbating the impact of conflict-related harms; and then silencing the voices of victims and survivors and blocking their access to justice.
Our focus has largely been confined to addressing some of the gendered consequences of conflict, particularly conflict-related sexual violence. We have not really begun to grapple with the structural underpinnings of that violence. Until we do, our justice processes will be a blunt instrument in our toolkit for repairing and rebuilding communities in the aftermath of atrocities. That link between addressing gendered structures in accountability processes and the quest for a more peaceful and flourishing world, needs much more attention. While the gendered drivers of atrocities are not homogenous and static, there are some patterns and we can do better in developing baseline methodologies to tailor for specific contexts. This is something the Hub has on its priority list.
This brings me to the second issue – the need to address the deep gender structures inside our own institutions. Based on the 25 years that I have worked inside international institutions with accountability mandates, one thing is clear: we cannot promote inclusive gender justice without institutions that have a commitment to gender equality embedded in their DNA. We should reject the idea of justice processes that serve only a fraction of the affected community and commit to addressing the imbalance as a core part of our work. To support this, we need institutions that also embody a commitment to gender equality.
This was one of the key insights coming out of the extensive review we did at the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia, which was published as Prosecuting Conflict-Related Sexual Violence at the ICTY. However, since then, we have seen little evidence of meaningful engagement with this challenge. We have seen a flurry of policy frameworks – which is important – but few signs of sustained engagement with the ‘deep structures’ inside our institutions. As a result, we presently have a gulf between our policy frameworks, their implementation in practice and the strengthened gender justice outcomes that we are seeking.
Having worked on this challenge now for many years, I am the first to acknowledge that progress is not easy – and this challenge is not for the faint hearted!
Our institutional systems are highly complex and the deep discriminatory structures embedded in them are very good at re-asserting themselves when challenged. As I watched this process unfold in real time, it sent me scurrying for research that would help me understand the systemic factors at play. What had others experienced and written on this? Joanne Sandler and, in particular, her co-authored book Gender at Work was pivotal in helping me to recognize and articulate what I was seeing up close. The book emphasizes the importance of grappling with the ‘deep gender structures’ inside our institutions: ‘gender policies rarely take on deep structures due to their pervasiveness and the takes time to confront them’ and, I would add, the difficulty of even getting visibility on how they are operating. But we certainly feel them and sometimes hear fragments of them articulated inside our institutions through comments like: ‘We are spending too many resources on gender’; ‘By focusing on crimes experienced by women, we could be seen as biased. It is incompatible with being evidence driven’; and ‘Why does it matter if we have low figures of women as witnesses – that has no impact on the verdicts’.
We need open and honest discussions about these types of concerns. Cultures of silence are one of the most insidious forms of reinforcing biased structures. But how do we know what is a valid concern and what is the discriminatory system re-asserting itself? A good litmus test is the constructiveness with which the concerns are raised and whether the overall trend inside our institutions is to block, or gut, any progress on gender equality.
Inevitably, when entrenched biased structures are challenged, there will be backlash. If we are not experiencing backlash from the implementation of our gender policies, then we have not yet begun to fundamentally change the way that our institutions are functioning. Fiona Mackay sums it up well:
‘We should celebrate as a success cases where the status quo has to…work hard to reproduce itself and has to invest resources and energy in resisting gender change. The need for visible resistance to positive change is a success.’
Along the way, we need to create a better culture of care around the change agents inside our institutions. As we heard during the scoping phase of the Hub, it is tough out there! And in the words of Sandler et al. ‘Personal and professional attacks pile up, especially when success is achieved.’
One of our most significant strategies to date has been the short-term deployment of gender experts to work with accountability mechanisms. This has been an important development to address historical silences. However, we should not view this as a stand-alone strategy. Individuals parachuted into an organization, especially for a short period of time, cannot, alone, tackle the gendered structures that block gender justice both within the communities we serve and inside our own institutions. We also have to be realistic about the pattern of pushback that change agents are likely to experience and be well prepared to support them through the process as a standard part of our strategy.
These systemic issues are focus areas for the Hub. Encouragingly, the Hub has started to receive requests for assistance by some institutional actors now seeking to engage with the challenge, but we can get even more ambitious. It would be great to see all leaders of accountability institutions engaging with the Hub on a collaborative project to strengthen efforts on gender sensitive institution building, starting with those who have already signed up as Gender Champions.
The third issue I want to cover, is the alchemy we could release through better coordination among ourselves as gender justice actors. This aspiration has also been embedded in the vision for the Hub.
We know we need to move outside of our echo chamber. Bringing in all generations to the conversation is an important component of this and sparks genuine optimism that it is possible to achieve the systems change we seek.
Better cross-disciplinary coordination is also key, starting with the silos that currently exist between academia and practitioners. There is so much good work being done within the academic realm, but practitioners rarely have time to follow the developing literature, and often it is too theoretical to be directly translated into practice. It makes a difference when academics working on gender and International Criminal Law issues engage with practitioners and help us translate their insights into practical approaches for our work – and I’m personally grateful to scholars like Judith Gardam, Kirsten Campbell, Gorana Mlinarevic, Susana SáCouto and Lisa Davis.
To conclude, let us return for a moment to the vision I mentioned: peaceful, flourishing communities; effective gender justice to help us repair and rebuild communities torn apart by atrocities; and ultimately, rendering justice processes obsolete.
What would it look like if we threw our collective global might behind this challenge?
Definitely we have some work to do. Even if it feels overwhelming to see how comprehensive change could be achieved, perhaps we can start with focusing on some islands of change.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the authors:
Michelle Jarvis
Michelle Jarvis has worked in the international criminal justice field for 25 years and took up the role of the Deputy Head of the International, Impartial and Independent Mechanism (Syria) (IIIM) in December 2017. Prior to that she was the Deputy to the Prosecutor at the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY) and the Mechanism for International Criminal Tribunals (MICT). Michelle’s work has focused on bringing accountability to victims/survivors of crimes in the Balkans, Rwanda and Syria, as well as building capacity for accountability processes in many other conflict and post conflict areas. Michelle has worked extensively to promote inclusive, innovative and agile approaches to accountability for core international crimes (war crimes, crimes against humanity and genocide), including bringing visibility to the experiences of marginalized groups during accountability processes and strengthening legal responses. She has co-authored two books and numerous articles on the subject of gender and armed conflict. She has initiated an innovative project, supported by the Australian Government, to establish an international Gender Justice Practitioner Hub to promote improved gender justice outcomes globally. Prior to her work in international criminal law, Michelle was a litigator in Australia, where her roles included improving women’s access to justice. Michelle holds a master’s degree in law from the University of Toronto as well as degrees in law and economics from the University of Adelaide.
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In this blog, humanitarian practitioner and researcher Carla Vitantonio reflects on the immediate experiences of people in Cuba affected by the path of Hurricane Melissa, which slowly approached the Caribbean nation in mid-October 2025. As the Hurricane approached Cuba, various (international) NGO, citizen-led, and civil defence preparations were triggered, despite issues with international sanctions and internal bureaucracy. Though regularly battered by tropical storms and hurricanes, the experiences of Cuban people and institutions with Hurricane Melissa reveal some timely developments in the country.
We began observing Melissa on October 21st. It was a tropical storm, one step below hurricane level, according to Saffir-Simpson hurricane wind scale. However, we knew that its slow pace did not bode well, and realized that it wasn’t a matter of predicting whether it would pass through Cuba, but simply of understanding where.
I have been working in disaster risk prevention and management for fifteen years, seven spent in Cuba. I know the protocols and am well aware of my role in a situation like this. I have studied the preparedness system developed by the EMNDC (Estado Mayor de la Defensa Civil) in Cuba, and which many around the world admire. This system has allowed this small country in the Caribbean to survive annual hurricanes and storm seasons since the triumph of the Revolution in 1959.
Yet I live here and know that, beyond the official propaganda and its many detractors, Cuba is no longer what it once was.
Like many, I still sting with the memory of Hurricane Oscar, which devastated eastern Cuba a year ago. Last year, when a colleague from Brussels called me the day before Oscar made landfall in Cuba, to ask if we needed support, I responded with a bit of bravado: “Cubans brush their teeth with a Category 2.” And I was wrong. Even today, a year later, there is no clarity on the number of deaths or the damage caused by Oscar and the human errors that followed, and many believe that the historically efficient Early Warning System failed that time.
I’m not the only one who bitterly remembers October last year, the 3 (for some up to 7) days without electricity, refrigerators left open, as if gutted, while the luckiest ones tried to cook their stored food in an attempt to save at least some of it, the chaos of information and misinformation and the clear feeling, listening to the fragmented accounts of colleagues from the affected areas, that beyond the usual duel between the regime and dissident press, something really hadn’t worked in the preparation and response.
Unfortunately, we were not involved in any learning exercises after the fact: we don’t know whether the Civil Defense analyzed what happened and learned any lessons, nor can we hope to know: living in Cuba means oscillating between a scandal-mongering and delegitimizing press that is mostly funded by the diaspora and quoted by international media, and a state-controlled press, which publishes only sanitized and repackaged news, increasingly detached from what we see every day on the streets.
But let’s go back to October 21st. Melissa’s slow approach allowed everyone to organize. The Civil Defense evacuated approximately 500,000 people. In Cuba, preventive evacuations have historically been managed along two lines: anyone who finds themselves in a situation where they need to leave their homes, first looks to family members nearby living in areas designated as safe by the Civil Defense. Only a small portion go to shelters, which are generally schools temporarily set up as shelters. Cuba’s civilian evacuation mechanism does not allow for individual objections.
Recently, a Cuban doctor that helped interrupt mother-to-child transmission of HIV told me about Cuba’s approach to HIV: “Because in Cuba, the life of every citizen is worth more than anything else. And to save it, we do everything, sometimes without caring whether someone agrees with our methods, or not. As if we had these lives at our disposal.”
I personally experienced the truth of this statement during COVID, when the state, to protect its citizens, imposed measures that would have been deemed unacceptable in many countries around the world. This was done precisely because of this duty to protect, which sometimes goes even beyond recognizing the agency of citizens. Evacuations during hurricane preparations, a painful process in which people are forced to leave behind what is most precious to them, and often even their livelihoods, work in the same way. We must save what is most precious to us: our lives. Everything else can come later.
International Reactions and Preparations
Meanwhile, mindful of the events of 2024, several European donors, including Germany, announced a couple of days before the hurricane hit that they would donate several hundred thousand euros to CERF, the United Nations emergency fund that will most likely handle the response. This is a sign of confidence in multilateralism. Unfortunately, the sixty-years long embargo (unilateral sanctions with extraterritorial effect imposed by the US), combined with the notoriously lengthy and complex internal bureaucracy in Cuba, make it virtually impossible to import any goods in less than three months—an interminable time for those who have lost their homes, and even for those wishing to provide almost immediate relief. And so, we are now witnessing creative appeals from the United Nations urging local entrepreneurs and individuals willing to respond, and who have access to products already on the local market, to come forward and join forces.
Beyond the commendable coordination effort, it is clear that the crisis the humanitarian sector has reached this country too.
Meanwhile, on October 29th, after 24 hours of intense rain and wind, Melissa made landfall as a Category 3 hurricane, hitting the provinces of Holguin, Granma, Santiago, and Guantanamo. The latter two are regions that have become extremely socially and economically impoverished in recent years, and are still struggling following the impact of Hurricane Oscar in 2024. Furthermore, these are the areas of Cuba hardest hit by the deterioration of the national electrical system and the infamous and lengthy apagones, blackouts that last for days, punctuated only by a few hours of power, which now plague the country relentlessly.
This year, the Early Warning System did not fail, and everyone is already prepared: international NGOs have alerted their local partners of the need to gather information as quickly as possible, the United Nations has activated its coordination system, and above all, the Cuban Civil Defense has mobilized the complex network of military and civilian personnel (including the Red Cross) that will handle the response in the hours immediately following Melissa’s passage. Within 24 hours, the hurricane receded, leaving behind destruction and fear, but the consequences continued for days to come: rivers, swollen by the rain, began to overflow their banks on October 31st, especially in the province of Granma, forcing the Civil Defense to launch a massive rescue operation that even included a mass transportation of people by train.
As I write this article, it seems we have emerged from the most critical phase and that we can all deal with the very delicate recovery phase.
What have we learned, as citizens and people involved in disaster preparedness and response?
Times have changed, and the Cuban government is slowly shifting to a different approach: on November 1st, an official gazette formally established that the government would pay 50% of the reconstruction costs for all citizens who need to rehabilitate their homes. We are therefore moving away from the “the state will take care of it” approach, which in recent years had sadly turned into empty rhetoric, given that the state no longer had the resources to handle everything. We are moving toward a supportive approach, where the state recognizes the citizens’ leading role while still striving to offer participation and support. The feasibility and sustainability of this offer remain to be seen.
Beyond the national and international agencies traditionally responsible for response, we need to rely on all those networks of private citizens who, from areas of Cuba less affected by the hurricane and often even from abroad, offer material support and donations. This change in trend began, I recall, with the tornado that hit Havana in 2019. Just a few months earlier, Cubans had gained access to 3G connectivity on their cell phones. Thanks to it, citizen movements rapidly mobilized to provide aid beyond and regardless of the official response.
That climate change is not an opinion, and we must think in terms of systems: for the first time we are witnessing a joint effort by agencies based in different countries (Cuba, Jamaica, Bahamas) to reflect on the impact of the event and combine their energies, not only for the response, but for future preparations.
That climate change is not an opinion (reprise), potentially disastrous events are intensifying in frequency, becoming more unpredictable in nature and, therefore becoming difficult to prepare according to the “business as usual” model.
In short, it would be interesting, beyond the usual ideological controversies that inevitably emerge when discussing Cuba, to look at this recent event as a source of learning, a pilot, something that can point us in the right direction for the future of preventing and responding to disasters.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the author:
Carla Vitantonio is a humanitarian practitioner and researcher who has worked across a number of contexts and organisations, including CARE (as country Director for Cuba), and Handicap International (including as country Director for North Korea). She contributes to academic research initiatives at institutes including the Vrije Universiteit Brussel, the European University Institute, and ODI. Carla hosts the podcast ‘Living Decoloniality’, and also serves on the Board of the International Humanitarian Studies Association, as well as regularly contributing blogs, think pieces and papers – in English, Spanish, and Italian.
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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:
A focus on changing forms of labour, along with the concerns around gender stereotypes and gendered knowledges attributed to social robots, is important for further exploration in the fields of AI-assisted occupations. The introduction of new machines involves the invisible human labour behind them, which is mostly the ‘ghost workers’ from the global south, whether with data work, coding or mining. What is inherent to existing social contexts, including gender, class, and racial stereotypes, are already heavily compromising the digital world.
Acknowledgements: This research was supported by a small grant from Erasmus Trustfonds for 2024-2025, I embarked on this short study to explore these questions. Although the grant period concluded in June 2025, the research continues. I would like to thank Ms. Julia van Stenis for her invaluable support in making this study possible.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question
About the author:
Sreerekha Sathi
Sreerekha Sathiworks on issues of gender, political economy, and critical development studies. Her current research explores the intersections of gender, care, and labour with digitalization, AI, and the future of work, and engages with critical debates in decolonial thought. She is a member of the editorial board ofDevelopment and Change.
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A red line has been drawn three times now by private citizens, who have not only called for boycotts against Israel to hold it accountable for atrocity crimes, but also the responsibility of their own governments to bring about sanctions. Beyond the ethical imperative, sanctions have legal foundations in international (humanitarian) law. In this blog post, Irene van Staveren and Binyam Afewerk Demena consider the role of sanctions and boycotts in changing the behaviour of governments that carry out human rights abuses and international crimes. Whilst sanctions have a mixed record of success, given the substantial economic ties between Israel and the Netherlands, they could be a powerful tool of accountability as the death toll in the Gaza genocide continues to climb even after the ceasefire. Peace and justice are still far out of sight. Outside of government action, what can people do by ‘voting with their feet’?
We’ve had three massive demonstrations, with 100,000, 150,000 and 250,000 participants each, set against a cruel political unwillingness on the part of most EU states to exercise any criticism of the state of Israel and its genocide in Gaza. The Dutch government too remains silent. Small gestures in the direction of accountability proposed by Parliament members have not gained a majority vote due to a majority of right-wing parties. Only very recently, a majority vote was obtained to boycott products from the occupied territories on the West Bank, but how, when and even if this will be implemented is unknown. Palestine has also become an election issue and on 29 October there will be an opportunity for voters to express their voice against the Dutch government’s de-facto support for genocide, including withholding humanitarian aid and occupying a large border zone in Gaza as well as continuing killings.
When it comes to sanctions, the Dutch government has been hiding behind the EU, arguing that joint action would be more effective. That may be the case in theory, but as long as the EU remains divided about criticism, let alone sanctions on Israel, there is nothing to stop each member state from exercising their own, legal responsibility to implement sanctions (while at the same time lobbying the EU for joint action). Unilateral and multilateral sanctions are derived from various international treaties that states are a signatory to, including the United Nations Charter, the Geneva Conventions and the Genocide Convention.
Sanctions concern the intersection of war, law and economy. Not only as a means of pressure; it is even the case that an economy can profit from war. Francesca Albanese, UN Special Rapporteur on the Palestinian Territories, recently concluded that we can speak of an economy of genocide. In the first year and a half of the assault on Gaza, her report to the UN states, the Tel Aviv Stock Exchange achieved a record 179 per cent increase, translating into a $157.9 billion gain. Albanese calls for sanctions.
Before we delve into the conditions under which sanctions tend to be most effective, first a clarification of what a call for sanctions against the State of Israel is about. It is not about pestering the average Israeli man, woman or child, and certainly it has nothing to do with antisemitism. It is about accountability to international law, impacting and weakening a government accused of serious international crimes and other violations of international law, including the crime of genocide. It is accomplished through affecting its trade in goods, services and weapons, including ending military cooperation, as well as sports and cultural exchanges and university cooperation, thereby seeking to affect Israel’s earnings and opportunities as well as its public support. As was the case with South Africa, which also experienced a range of trade, economic and cultural sanctions, there are many Israelis who call for sanctions from within. They do so because they object to their country’s policies and would like to see the government fall. Although many are satisfied with the return of all surviving hostages, many, though by far not enough, wish to see an immediate end to the cruelties against Palestinians and occupation of the West Bank, Gaza and East Jerusalem (although not everybody supports all these goals together).
Do sanctions work?
A new study published in Econometrics takes a fresh look at a four decades-old debate, asking a simple question: When do economic sanctions actually work? For years, researchers and policymakers have wrestled with mixed evidence. Some studies say sanctions work wonders; others show they barely make a dent. Until now, this back-and-forth has made it hard to generalize on the impact of imposing sanctions against a state. The 2025 study, ’A Meta Analysis of Determinants of Success and Failure of Economic Sanctions’, by one of the authors of this blog post, offers some perspective by systematically analysing empirical studies spanning a period between 1985 and 2018.
What can be discerned from available research is that the success of economic sanctions boils down to three key pillars, or ingredients, of sanctions success. The first is strong trade linkages: if the target country depends heavily on the sender for trade, sanctions hurt more and thus have a higher chance of success. Sanctions are far less effective when countries have diversified their trade or can pivot elsewhere. The second is swift implementation: time is of the essence. Sanctions that are quickly imposed after the triggering event are more likely to succeed, which in the case of Israel has been a repeated manifestation of triggering events. Delay gives the target state time to prepare, rally support or dig in politically, which has also been observed routinely in Israel, especially, though not limited to, the period since October 2023. The third is pre-existing friendly relations: sanctions are more effective when countries have had relatively good political or diplomatic ties before the breakdown. If prior relations are bad, then a potential target could pre-empt the sanction and reduce its impact, for instance through proactive reorientation to new markets or by stock piling.
For policymakers, the message implies choose your battles wisely. Blanket sanctions, in the absence of strong ties or timely coordination may amount to little more than political posturing.
Three cases
Success story: The apartheid regime of South Africa is among the most frequently cited examples where sanctions have supported major political change. In this case, sustained international pressure, including trade embargoes and financial restrictions, helped isolate the regime and eventually led to political transitions. Crucially, this was supported by broad multilateral cooperation, strong trade ties, a vocal and well-organized civil society and clear moral consensus, all of which amplified the sanctions’ impact.
Mixed outcomes:Sanctions against Iran over its nuclear programme have shown limited but measurable economic impact, causing inflation, currency collapse and reduced oil exports. However, despite the economic pain, sanctions alone have not forced a full policy reversal, perhaps highlighting the limits of pressure when strategic interests and national pride are at stake. Sanctions on Iran may have exerted short-term pressure and led to temporary concessions, but they have ultimately failed to achieve long-term success. They have therefore recently been reimposed.
Clear failures: By sharp contrast, US-driven sanctions against Iraq in the 1990s utterly failed to change Saddam Hussein’s regime. Sanctions against Iraq under the regime of Saddam Hussein caused extensive humanitarian harm and met the typical economic criteria for success, being swift and economically damaging, yet ultimately failed to achieve their political objective. This suggests that in some cases regimes are resistant to external pressure when leaders do not prioritize national economic well-being. For example, the extensive sanctions on Russia since 2014 (and escalated in 2022) have hurt its economy and isolated it diplomatically, but have not deterred its military actions in Ukraine.
These cases underscore the limits of sanctions when the target is economically resilient, politically isolated or willing and able to absorb long-term costs to the detriment of the population. Indeed, a recent study in The Lancet has demonstrated a causal relationship between sanctions and civilian deaths, with the strongest effects on mortality for unilateral, economic and US sanctions. But the study did not find any statistical evidence of a large civilian death toll resulting from UN sanctions. This re-emphasizes the importance of UN-based sanctions as they are likely to be more effective with less unnecessary deaths among civilians.
A recent study, which also examines the factors shaping the success or failure of sanctions, finds that the institutionalization of sanctions within the sender coalition is associated with higher success rates than cases that are less multilaterally supported. UN-based sanctions provide a clear example: by embedding measures within a multilateral, rules-based framework, they enhance legitimacy, facilitate coordination and limit opportunities for evasion; mechanisms that the literature consistently links to greater effectiveness compared to unilateral or non-institutionalized sanctions.
The above country-examples per category of effectiveness resonate with what the research tells us: sanctions are most effective when they are timely, targeted and backed by strong international – UN – coordination, especially when the target state is economically dependent on the sender.
From research to action: Trade between the Netherlands and Israel
Let’s learn from these experiences in putting pressure on the State of Israel as well as other states, institutions and companies that are complicit in its violations. For decades, and especially over the past few years, the Netherlands has built up a consistent trade surplus with Israel. IMF estimates indicate that exports to Israel average close to three billion euros, exceeding imports, which stand at around two billion euros. This trade volume has remained almost unchanged since 7 October 2023 when Hamas carried out a horrible attack on Israel and took hostages. This attack was followed by retaliations by the IDF (Israeli Defence Forces) leading to a devastating, and still ongoing, genocide in Gaza. Israel also arrested around 10,000 Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza, mostly civilians, and many without charge, while only a minority has been released after the formal ceasefire and return of all living hostages by Hamas.
Meanwhile, the month-to-month trade data shows a sudden increase in Dutch exports to Israel last March – the largest export volume in 2.5 years. The EU is Israel’s largest trading partner and within the EU, the Netherlands is the fourth largest trading partner. According to the Financiele Dagblad, Dutch financial firms have around 1 billion euros of investments in the occupied territories. The EU is also the largest investor in Israel and the Netherlands ranks as the number one investor.
The biggest trade volumes concern minerals, technical, machinery and chemicals, both for exports and imports. Sanctions included in this trade category in particular would hurt Israeli businesses and thereby put pressure on the Israeli government. Dutch firms may be hurt as well, but it would come at a time when the portfolios of many Dutch industries are filled with more orders than their technical personnel shortages are able to fulfill, particularly with additional, new orders by the Dutch army due to the new NATO spending norm.
This brings us to arms trade between the two countries, which should be the target of a complete embargo, for two reasons. First, Israeli weapon systems are sold as combat tested, which includes testing on civilians in Gaza. Second, Dutch arms exports to Israel have reportedly been used to commit international crimes, including genocide, directly or indirectly in Gaza. Dutch arms exports to Israel are relatively small but nevertheless have still been worth nearly four million euro since 7 October 2023. These exports include parts for rocket and radar systems, and parts for F-16 and F-35 fighter jets. In addition, ships from the port of Rotterdam and flights from Schiphol airport in Amsterdam have regularly carried ammunition from the US to Israel. Exports to Israel also include dual-use goods (military and civil use), which have an estimated value of 60 million euro, including high-tech parts from the Dutch tech company ASML.
Arms imports from Israel are worth more than arms exports – 34 million USD in 2024 – and they are well documented by the Dutch NGO PAX. They include weapons-systems and parts from Israel Aerospace Industries and Rafael Advanced Defense Systems as well as Elbit systems, which has also a subsidiary in the municipality of Woensdrecht in the South of the Netherlands. Imports from Israel include a wide variety of products from bullet-proof vests to an anti-drone system, and include Spike anti-tank rockets as well as Barak-rockets for new Dutch marine vessels. By contrast, Spain has recently cancelled two weapon systems ordered from Israel, including Spike anti-tank rockets that the Netherlands has also purchased recently. In other words, it can be done!
All this shows that even though EU-wide sanctions are not in place, individual EU-members have a lot of scope to take up their legal responsibility of holding the State of Israel accountable for atrocity crimes and ending all forms of the ongoing genocide, beginning with military trade sanctions. This could go a step further with a coalition of the willing. This should include The Netherlands, given its hosting of the International Court of Justice, which in its 2024 Advisory Opinion reiterated its earlier call for measures to be taken by States to hold Israel accountable for its illegal occupation. This would furthermore be in accordance with the policies of previous Dutch administrations, which have called for respect for UN resolutions supporting peace and justice.
Humanitarian exemption
A further export category from the Netherlands to Israel is pharmaceuticals and medicines, worth nearly 100 million euro per year. These could be exempted from sanctions on the basis of an ethics of care. Whereas a justice ethics is necessary for strong and immediate trade sanctions and an arms embargo, this does not mean that we should use the same immoral reasoning as the government of Israel does concerning humanitarian needs in Gaza, which has denied access to medication and medical treatment for Palestinians. An ethics of care takes empathy into account and exempts humanitarian goods from the pressures of sanctions on a government. At the same time, imports of pharmaceutical and medicines from Israel should be stopped, because there are alternatives available for Dutch patients to the Israeli brand of Teva, a company which strongly supports the IDF.
What we can do ourselves
Apart from what the Dutch government may do, there are many other ways for consumers to draw their own red line for peace and justice through a citizen-led boycott. First, there are growing reasons not to book any accommodation through Booking.com or AirBnB anymore, particularly due to these companies listing properties in illegally-occupied areas and thereby profiting from Israel’s illegal occupation. Second, there are many justifications expressed by Dutch NGO PAX and others not to buy any consumer goods from Israel. These are easy to identify with the product barcode starting with the country code 729 or by using a app such as Boycat and the Palestinian-developed No Thanks. Third, one can refrain from buying generic medication from Israeli brands Teva and its related Pharmachemie in drugstores and pharmacies (drugs such as paracetamol), and also take it a step further by writing to their health insurer asking to stop the partnership with Teva for any medication. This is relevant because in the Netherlands, several health insurers purchase up to 44% of their medication from Teva.
In conclusion, let’s pursue boycott as citizens and let’s put strong pressure on the Dutch government and the EU to apply a full package of sanctions and an arms embargo to push for a complete end to all genocidal actions of Israel, because the window for their effectiveness is closing slowly. The sanctions on South Africa in the 1980s set an excellent example.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question
About the authors:
Irene van Staveren
Irene van Staveren is Professor of Pluralist Development Economics at the ISS. Professor Van Staveren’s field of research included feminist economics, heterodox economics, pluralist economics and social economics. Specifically, her fields of expertise lie in ethics and economic philosophy.
Binyam Demena
Binyam Afewerk Demena holds the Assistant Professor of Development Economics position at the International Institute of Social Studies, Erasmus University Rotterdam, in The Netherlands. His research, deeply rooted in the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs), centers on international economics, environmental impacts, development, and health.
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M-PESA, a fintech platform, created alternative banking for those previously excluded from formal finance. While it advanced financial inclusion, it also highlighted deep inequalities and the extraction of value from vulnerable users. In this blog, Anna Elias, Erwin Tuijl, and Jasmin Hofman remind us that frugal innovation is not just about low-cost solutions — it is about addressing the social and political dimensions of exclusion and examining who truly benefits from digital progress.
M-PESA is often cited as a landmark example of frugal innovation in the digital era. This fintech platform created an alternative banking infrastructure for people in informal economies who previously lacked access to formal banking. While M-PESA has significantly advanced financial inclusion, it has also been criticised for deepening inequalities between those who have and those who lack access, as well as enabling its operators to extract value from vulnerable users in informal settlements . This case highlights an important nuance: frugal innovation should not only be understood as delivering low-cost and simple solutions, but through a more holistic lens that embeds social and political dimensions to actively tackle exclusion and inequality This broader framing pushes us to critically examine how digital platforms do more than just lower entry barriers, they shape who ultimately benefits and who remains excluded.
This tension between increased accessibility and persistent exclusion also appears in social media platforms like YouTube and Facebook. These platforms empower grassroots innovators in the Global South to reach wider markets, but gaining visibility often requires additional investments in advertising or search optimization, reinforcing inequalities based on users’ resources. In contrast, in refugee camps, semi-literate women use WhatsApp for voice messages and photo sharing, fostering new forms of collective agency and entrepreneurship despite limited formal infrastructure.
These examples show that digital platforms can enable users to overcome resource constraints in innovative ways. Frugal innovations aim to “do more with less for more people,” characterized by low cost, simplicity, and ease of access. Yet frugal is not always inclusive.
So, where do gig platforms fit within this framework? Are they truly frugal, that is easy to use, affordable, accessible and do they effectively address livelihood challenges in informal economies? Gig platforms connect people offering short, flexible tasks or “gigs” with customers. They broadly fall into two categories: remote digital work such as coding, translation or data entry on platforms like Amazon Mechanical Turk, and location-based services like ride-hailing, food delivery or home maintenance via SafeBoda, Uber, PedidosYa or Urban Company.
To understand how these platforms operate, we highlight the case of Sonal, a beautician in a Mumbai suburb, whom one of the author’s engaged with during fieldwork. At 5 AM, she prepares her kit and checks her Urban Company app, which has scheduled six appointments for her that day. Before joining the platform, Sonal struggled to find steady work, relying on informal networks and occasional beauty parlour jobs, opportunities that diminished further after COVID-19. Urban Company now connects her to customers she would not otherwise reach. Yet, her income fluctuates with the platform’s algorithms: her rating dropped after a couple of three (with five being the maximum) star reviews, affecting her visibility and job allocation. She is also repaying her smartphone in instalments, a vital tool for her livelihood, which reduces her daily take-home pay. Many workers like Sonal navigate this digital frontier across many contexts, balancing new opportunities with precarious conditions.
Gig platforms lower entry barriers by providing affordable, ready-made infrastructure: mobile interfaces, algorithmic client matching, payment processing, and marketing reach. Traditionally, workers in informal contexts needed not only monetary capital like owning a vehicle or renting space, but also social capital: trust, networks, and knowledge to secure steady work. Access itself becomes a form of capital determining livelihood security and autonomy. Platforms like SafeBoda or Urban Company bypass these hurdles, enabling workers with limited resources to enter new markets.
Ease of use is critical, especially for workers with low formal education or technical skills. Many gig platforms offer intuitive interfaces with regional language support, voice commands, and simple navigation. For example, the Urban Company app supports multiple regional languages and provides features like earnings dashboard for workers to track payments. Sonal highlights the convenience: “I can see my earnings by day, week, or month all in one place, indicate my availability, and manage my schedule through the app”.
Affordability is another dimension of frugal innovation. Many platforms have minimal or no registration fees, making them more accessible than traditional business setups requiring large upfront investments, buying a vehicle or setting up a salon, for instance. Platforms also reduce marketing costs by aggregating demand and matching it to workers directly, mitigating risks associated with finding customers independently.
At first glance, gig platforms appear to embody frugal innovation by offering low-cost, accessible means to improve livelihoods in informal economies.
Challenging platform frugality
Access to digital infrastructure remains a fundamental prerequisite for using digital platforms. Participation depends on reliable mobile networks, smartphone ownership, and basic digital literacy. While often taken for granted in urban areas, these conditions can be major barriers in rural regions, especially across parts of Africa where network coverage is patchy. Moreover, rural areas’ low population density limits demand for location-based services like ride-hailing or food delivery, deepening the urban-rural divide in gig work opportunities.
Costs of participation also challenge the frugality claim. For example, Jane from the Mathare informal settlement in Kenya sometimes skips meals to afford internet bundles. As for Sonal, she must repay her smartphone in instalments. Some platforms charge fees to service providers or merchants, for instance restaurant owners using Just Eat Takeaway may pay to be featured higher in search results or face fierce price competition [iv]. Beyond platform fees, workers bear costs of smartphones, internet subscriptions, loan repayment for vehicles, or workspace rent. Such expenses create dependencies and exacerbate precarity.
Formal registration requirements can exclude many people. Drivers in India can sign up on Uber with a valid driving license, but residents of informal settlements like Mathare often lack official IDs needed for the registration. Similarly, Syrian refugees in Lebanon are excluded due to their lack of a legal status, and strict SIM card registration rules in Uganda prevent some citizens from accessing mobile platforms at all.
Understanding platform frugality requires a holistic view of frugal innovation that goes beyond low cost and simplicity. It calls for embedding social and political dimensions that address exclusion and power dynamics shaping who benefits. Only through such a comprehensive lens can we critically assess the promises and perils of gig platforms as vehicles for inclusive economic development.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the authors:
Ana Elias
Anna Elias is a PhD researcher at the International Institute of Social Studies, Erasmus University. Her research examines how digital platforms reshape livelihoods within the informal sector, focusing on workers’ experiences in economically disadvantaged, socially hierarchical, and resource-constrained contexts of the Global South. She co-coordinates the Platform Labour Group at Erasmus University and is affiliated with the Platform Work Inclusion Living Lab (PWILL).
Erwin Tuijl
Erwin van Tuijl (PhD, Erasmus University Rotterdam) is researcher and lecturer in Urban Studies at the TU Delft, and at the International Centre for Frugal Innovation (ICFI). He is also affiliated with the European Institute for Comparative Urban Research (Euricur). His current research focuses on just sustainability transitions (with a focus on mobility and energy), digitalisation, (frugal) innovation, and regional development.
Jasmin Hofman
Jasmin Hofman is a strategic professional and coordinator of LDE Global and the International Centre for Frugal Innovation. She develops crossover initiatives that bridge research, education, policy, and practice. With experience in designing educational programs, workshops, and innovative concepts, she leverages her expertise to foster collaboration and deliver impactful projects.
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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.
European Union ESG regulations are reshaping global business practices, but their impact on the Global South remains complex and contested. This blog looks at the economic, social, and environmental dimensions of EU ESG frameworks in countries in the ‘Global South’ and proposes pathways toward more inclusive and equitable sustainability governance that respects diverse contexts and knowledge systems.
TheGlobalReachofEuropeanESGStandards
Environmental, Social, and Governance (ESG) regulations have emerged as central pillars in re-shaping corporate behavior toward sustainability, particularly within the European Union. The EU positions itself as a global regulatory leader, and its recent frameworks: the Corporate Sustainability Reporting Directive (CSRD), EU Deforestation Regulation (EUDR), and Sustainable Finance Disclosure Regulation (SFDR)- impose increasingly strict rules on companies operating within or trading with Europe.
While these frameworks aim to foster responsible capitalism and ecological stewardship, their influence extends far beyond European borders, raising a critical question: How do EU ESG regulationsshapeeconomic,social,andecologicaloutcomesintheGlobalSouth?Can these standards genuinely promote sustainable development globally, or might they inadvertently entrench existing asymmetries and constrain development pathways in the very regions they intend to benefit?
EconomicDevelopment:OpportunityorExclusion?
AccesstoGreenMarkets
EU ESG regulations can function as powerful catalysts for production upgrading (the process of moving to higher-value activities in global supply chains), enabling firms in the Global South to participate in emerging “green” value chains in EU countries. When effectively implemented, these standards allow exporters to secure long-term access to premium EU markets, differentiate products through sustainability credentials, and capture price premiums for verified sustainable goods. The International Trade Centre has documented how producers aligning with non-tariff environmental and social standards often gain entry to more stable, higher-value market segments, particularly in sectors like specialty coffee, ethical textiles, and certified forestry products.
However, the economic reality for many small and medium-sized enterprises (SMEs) across Africa, Asia, and Latin America reveals a different picture. For these businesses, ESG regulatory compliance costs often represent a significant barrier. The financial burden of certification fees, auditing costs, and infrastructure investments can be prohibitive. Administrative complexity through extensive documentation and reporting requirements strains limited resources. Additionally, many SMEs face technical capacity gaps. While the EU provides technical guidance documents, these often remain insufficient for practical implementation. The complexity of the regulations and guidance frequently drives SMEs to seek expensive external consultants, ironically often from EU or US firms, creating an additional financial burden and potential dependency that undermines the goal of empowering Global South businesses.
The EUDR starkly illustrates these challenges by mandating full traceability and due diligence for commodities like palm oil, cocoa, and soy. Research by ECDPM highlights how Indonesian palm oil producers, particularly smallholders, struggle with the mounting costs of compliance with traceability protocols (tracking systems). Without targeted support mechanisms, such regulations risk creating a “green barrier” to trade that disproportionately affects the most vulnerable actors in global supply chains.
SocialDevelopment:EmpowermentorImposition?
From a social perspective, ESG-driven supply chain due diligence can foster improved labor standards, gender equity, and protections against exploitation. As EU firms face increasing pressure to assess and mitigate human rights impacts across their value chains, this has stimulated rising investment in social infrastructure and monitoring systems. It has also encouraged greater stakeholder engagement with previously marginalized communities and advanced the development of grievance mechanisms and remediation processes (ways to raise complaints and fix problems). The Shift Project notes that ESG regulations can drive positive business and human rights outcomes when paired with effective enforcement and local capacity building. In sectors like cocoa and coffee, EU sustainability demands have encouraged certification schemes and community development programs, as documented in multiple Fairtrade Foundation reports.
However, these well- intentioned frameworks may inadvertently marginalize the very communities they aim to protect when not grounded in local contexts. While establishing fundamental workers’ rights is important, the challenge lies in how these standards are implemented. Many ESG standards emerge from European perspectives and risk disrupting informal economies that support millions of livelihoods, not because workers’ rights are inherently problematic, but because the implementation often lacks sensitivity to local economic realities. These frameworks often overlook local working traditions and traditional governance structures while imposing externally developed metrics that fail to reflect local contexts. In regions like West Africa, cocoa farmers often lack the support infrastructure to meet traceability requirements tied to deforestation monitoring, leaving them vulnerable to market exclusion. Moreover, rigid labor standards, if applied without considering local economic conditions and providing transition support, may displace informal workers without offering viable alternatives.
EnvironmentalGovernance:Protection or Appropriation?
EcologicalSafeguards
Environmental sustainability constitutes the cornerstone of EU ESG policies. Regulations like the EUDR aim to curb global deforestation and biodiversity loss by demanding verifiable, sustainable sourcing. These measures can catalyze the restructuring of multinational supply chains to prioritize conservation, adoption of more transparent environmental practices, and increased investment in ecosystem restoration and protection. By raising environmental due diligence expectations, the EU is effectively internationalizing its Green Deal ambitions, potentially accelerating global progress toward climate targets and biodiversity conservation.
SovereigntyConcerns
Yet, these ecological gains may come at the cost of local autonomy and environmental justice. As the RightsandResourcesInitiative(RRI) and the authors of ‘Pluriverse: a post-development dictionary’ argue, a “one-size-fits-all” model of environmental governance often overlooks Indigenous knowledge systems that have sustained ecosystems for generations. It often ignores local conservation practices that balance human needs with ecological integrity and fails to account for diverse cultural understandings of nature-human relationships. This dynamic can lead to what critics term “green colonialism,” wherein sustainability is imposed through externally defined metrics that sideline plural understandings of environmental stewardship. Furthermore, in many parts of the Global South, livelihoods and ecosystems are deeply intertwined. Forest-dependent communities, shifting cultivators, and pastoralists may find their access to land and resources restricted under ESG frameworks focused primarily on carbon storage and biodiversity indicators.
TowardInclusiveESG:APluriversalApproach
To ensure that ESG regulation contributes to truly equitable sustainability, fundamental shifts in both process and substance are essential:
Co-creationandSharedGovernance
Standard-setting must evolve from top-down prescription to collaborative co-creation. This requires meaningful engagement with diverse stakeholders from the Global South throughout policy design, representation of civil society, smallholders, Indigenous peoples, and local governments in governance bodies, and effective mechanisms for incorporating local knowledge systems and perspectives.
CapacityBuildingandTransitionSupport
The implementation gap must be addressed through comprehensive support systems. This includes dedicated funding for SMEs to upgrade practices and technologies, development of accessible and affordable traceability tools training programs that reach marginalized producers, and flexible implementation timelines that recognize different starting points.
JustTransitionIntegration
ESG frameworks must explicitly incorporate principles of justice and equity at their core. They should balance climate and ecological goals with social development imperatives, use context-sensitive indicators that respect diverse sustainability models, integrate benefit-sharing mechanisms that compensate communities for ecosystem services, and recognize the “pluriverse” of sustainability approaches beyond Global North conceptions.
BeyondComplianceTowardTransformation
EU ESG regulation represents a promising step toward responsible global capitalism, but the promise alone is insufficient. For ESG standards to support equitable sustainability in the Global South, they must transcend box-ticking compliance and embrace deeper, more inclusive frameworks. A pluriversal ESG model, one that integrates diverse knowledge systems, promotes justice, and fosters ecological stewardship, can offer a path forward. This requires humility, dialogue, and genuine co-governance from European policymakers and businesses. Without these elements, ESG frameworks risk reproducing the very inequalities they ostensibly seek to eliminate. The path ahead demands not just technical solutions but fundamental reconsideration of how sustainability is defined, measured, and governed. Only then can ESG truly deliver on its promise of a more equitable and ecological global economy.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the author:
Kim Tung Dao
Kim Tung Dao is a recent PhD graduate of the International Institute of Social Studies, Erasmus University Rotterdam. Her research interests include globalization, international trade, sustainable development, and the history of economic thought.
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Despite claims of evidence-based policymaking, migration research is often sidelined – except when it serves political goals. In this blog, Riccardo Biggi explores how governments at national and local levels selectively use expert knowledge, depending on the policy area at stake.
Photo Credit: PACES Project
On 10 September 2024, U.S. President Donald Trump claimed that Haitian migrants were “eating dogs” as he ramped up the anti-immigration rhetoric during his election campaign. As absurd and dehumanising as that statement was, it reflects a broader political trend: migration politics are shaped not by facts, but by fear, myths, and political opportunism. The EU is no exception. From asylum laws to criminalisation of irregular entry, many European policies are built on dehumanising and patronising ideas about migrants, as well as discredited ideas about why people move, how they take decisions, and what works to manage migration.
As part of the PACES project, the research conducted at Leiden University by Katharina Natter, Niels Ike, Merel van Assem and myself shows that despite governments’ commitments to evidence-driven policymaking, expert knowledge is often ignored or distorted. Simplistic assumptions about migrants’ motivations dominate policymaking, disregarding up-do-date knowledge and evidence resulting from research. In some cases, knowledge is taken into account selectively, as it is primarily used in policies concerning migrant groups admitted to EU countries – such as essential workers and resettled refugees – highlighting the opportunistic nature of knowledge use in migration policy.
Common but flawed assumptions
Our study examined 180 policy documents – including laws, evaluations, and legislative debates – spanning from 1998 to 2024 in Austria, Italy, and the Netherlands, across three key policy areas: counter-smuggling, protection of refugees abroad, and attraction of essential workers. This was complemented by 35 interviews with Italian policymakers, NGOs and researchers. Our analysis found that despite different migration histories and political cultures, all three countries showed similar patterns in how they use (or don’t use) research. The degree of issue politicisation, as well as the institutional actors involved, crucially shape the extent to which policymakers draw on expert knowledge.
We identified a dozen of these recurring assumptions that continue to dominate in migration policymaking, for example, that smugglers are extensive, international criminal networks; that increased border controls are effective in reducing smuggling; that migrants are unaware of the dangers associated with irregular migration; that refugees will easily integrate in the region of reception outside Europe, contributing as an economic resource if well managed; that transit countries are willing to host refugees and migrants; that development in regions of origin can reduce onward migrant flows; and that migrants’ decision making is influenced by small-scale adjustments to entry criteria and the efficiency of regularisation procedures for foreign workers policies.
Counter-smuggling policies, as well as policies for the protection of refugees outside the EU, are particularly prone to disregard or misuse research. Take the following examples of Dutch migration policymaking, which displays dynamics also visible in Austria and Italy. In 2016, the Dutch Ministry of Justice and Security commissioned a report from the Centre for Research and Documentation (WODC) that concluded that EU information campaigns to deter irregular migration were ineffective and ethically questionable, considering the limited actual possibilities to apply for asylum. The following year, the Ministry cited this same report to justify the continuation of information campaigns, arguing vaguely that ‘new campaigns will provide new insights’. This type of symbolic use of research – to substantiate decisions already made – is widespread. Christina Boswell described it as the “symbolic function” of expert knowledge, where institutions boost their credibility by citing science, without acting on its findings.
At other times, knowledge is completely disregarded. The WODC report identified several unrealistic assumptions behind information campaigns, for instance that irregular migrants are not aware of travel risks and that more information will make them decide differently. Yet seven years later these same assumptions, previously discredited by the study, were still present in a letter from the State Secretary of Justice and Security to the Parliament. The letter stated: ‘informing potential migrants about irregular migration, as well as the possible associated risks and possible alternatives enables them to make more informed choices. This may lead a potential migrant to decide to avoid irregular travel, choose a regular route, or reduce risks’ (p. 9).
When knowledge matters
In contrast, research is used in policy areas that involve categories of migrants admitted to the state, such as resettled refugees and essential workers. For instance, Italian documents related to resettled refugees consider refugees’ vulnerabilities with increased nuances, including their psychological well-being – completely disregarded by policymakers within documents regarding irregular migrants or refugees outside Europe. A pattern emerges: when dealing with migrants who have entered EU territory through formal resettlement channels, policy documents explicitly mention refugees’ needs and expectations, showing the state’s stronger interest in understanding how to adapt policy for this target group, rather than for irregular migrants.
Similarly, policies for attracting high-skilled migrant workers to the Netherlands make regular use of research to adjust the criteria and parameters to make the country attractive for international migrants. For instance, the 2009 Dutch ‘Regeling Hoogopgeleiden’ – designed to encourage foreign top talent to move to the Netherlands to bolster the Dutch knowledge economy – was adjusted two times following evaluations to enhance its transparency and effectivity in attracting more migrants.
The local and the bureaucratic level: a different story
A central finding of our research project was that local governments often use expert knowledge in a more instrumental manner than national policymakers. In one Italian town with a large foreign population, civil servants – not politicians – initiated policies using insights from collaborations with universities and NGOs. The city’s immigration office itself originated as a university research project in the 1990s.
Our research showed that city-level actors in Italy, closer to the ground and less influenced by (inter)national political interests, often seek evidence to solve real problems, especially in areas concerning work permits and refugee integration. The same attention to evidence and to efficacy is found within the bureaucratic level of national policymaking – especially within the Ministry of Work and Social Policy (Ministero del Lavoro e delle Politiche Sociali), responsible for elaborating and implementing foreign workers’ regularization procedures. Indeed, civil servants are not as directly impacted by party politics and voter dynamics as are elected politicians, granting them more room to consider expert knowledge in their work. At the municipal administration level particularly, civil servants’ objective is to provide good services and ensure the correct functioning, improvement and problem-solving capacities of the local system. As one Italian civil servant put it, ‘At the municipality level there are experienced and motivated people, while the political level has little awareness of reality.’
Conclusions: what spaces for research in policymaking?
In 2024, 2,454 people died or went missing in the Mediterranean, lacking safe ways to travel due to restrictive EU visa policies. These deaths are not accidental – they are the tragic outcome of policies that have not succeeded in limiting mobility, despite increased funding to border control in North-Africa and elsewhere. Focused on a paradigm of border security and fighting human trafficking, EU governments in the last 30 years have been developing policies based on flawed assumptions and ignored evidence.
The result for research and expert knowledge? Gradually, and especially since the so-called refugee crisis of 2015, ‘evidence-based policymaking’ has become a buzzword more than a reality. Legal professionals, researchers and even policy makers themselves often know better, but their insights are often ignored or filtered through political convenience.
Our research is not meant to just speak to academics interested in knowledge dynamics around migration – we believe our findings matter for anyone concerned with democratic governance and human rights. Understanding how, when, and why knowledge is used or ignored in migration policy helps expose the dynamics behind policy failures. Until evidence is taken seriously, Europe’s borders will remain deadly, and policies to tackle migration will continue to be dishonest.
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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In this blog, ISS alumnus Eyob Balcha Gebremariam, PhD, critiques the superficial ethical framing often used in Global North–Africa partnerships. Through reflections on a UK–Africa research network, he highlights persistent power imbalances, where African partners are relegated to the role of data collectors while institutions exploit student fees and metrics.
Image Credit: Bliss
In February 2024, I found myself at a pivotal moment in the academic landscape, attending a regional network launching event of “Africanist researchers” at one of the UK universities. The room was a microcosm of diverse academic, cultural, gender, and racial backgrounds, all converging with a common purpose to establish a network of researchers. The organisers set ambitious objectives, including partnering to co-develop research proposals, recruiting more African students to their respective regional universities, and providing capacity-building support for Africa-based partners. This was the backdrop against which I observed the dynamics of coloniality, power and privilege that underpin such collaborations.
As a passionate advocate for decolonial perspectives and a contributor to the development of the Africa Charter, I was not only unsurprised but deeply concerned by the dominant focus of the discussion. It seemed to orbit around how UK universities and their researchers could maintain and even amplify their benefits from the existing power imbalances with their African counterparts. This perspective is a symptom of the deeply ingrained colonial mindset that continues to shape our research collaborations.
The extractivist approach, a deeply ingrained issue, was never questioned. The mood in the room took for granted the colonially crafted relationship between African and UK higher education institutions, where empirical data and information are extracted from “Africa” using Western theories and concepts to be packaged as scientific knowledge. Not only on this occasion, but in most events like this meeting, “Africa” is approached as a supplier of international students. Africa-based researchers are often characterised as research assistants or primary data collectors for their UK-based counterparts.
During the plenary discussion, I shared my concern about the orientation of the discussion in the room. I underscored the urgent need for a more critical orientation that is acutely aware of the colonial designs and structures of research collaborations with African knowledge systems and Africa-based knowledge actors. I was determined to challenge the status quo and encourage my academic colleagues to transcend the normalised approaches to discussing “Africa.”
The subsequent parts of the discussion proceeded smoothly, and I gleaned valuable insights from the conversation with my fellow small group members. It was encouraging to see that everyone shared a deep concern about the issues I had raised. They also expressed their understanding of the challenges and commitment to addressing inequities in their respective capacities. However, the overall atmosphere remained somewhat conventional.
At the end of the inaugural session, concerns about the power imbalances in knowledge production and the need for a historically informed and conscious approach to forging new partnerships or strengthening existing ones were watered down to a mere mention of ‘ethics and ethical procedures’. The overall message was that we are good to go if we are sufficiently ethical in our dealings with “Africa” and Africa-based knowledge actors. There was insufficient time and space to delve into what ‘ethics’ truly entails. I gathered that my fellow participants were willing to move to the next step even though the ethical standards and procedures were not adequately clarified.
I call the above procedure the “Ts and Cs Apply” Approach. In this age of hyper-consumerism, we hear or see endless commercials for goods and services. After the main message, we often pay little attention to the so-called “terms and conditions.” I observed a tendency to approach the current drive of demanding equity, redressing power imbalances, and undoing colonial relations in knowledge production through international collaborations using the “Ts and Cs apply approach.”
In many events, the manifestations of coloniality at the idea, institutional, and individual levels will be raised. However, there is often limited or no time, space, or understanding to discuss them thoroughly. Such ideas and individuals who promote them are almost guaranteed to remain in the margins. The “Ts and Cs Apply” approach has just enough room to raise critical issues but is not good enough to make meaningful steps.
Financially, the growing young population in Africa is a primary target for recruiting international students. “Overseas students” have already become UK universities’ primary income sources. The UK, in general, is in an advantageous position to benefit from the colonial legacy and the soft power it exerts in shaping peoples’ minds about higher education.
Even UK universities with socially responsible and justice-focused intentions reap unfair benefits from their operations in Africa. Most UK universities now have an “Africa Strategy” to manage their collaborations with the continent effectively. Their continent-wide footprints also count towards the new metrics of university Impact Ranking. The SDGs are the primary framework of the impact ranking. Since the SDGs define Africa through the deficit model, the abnormality of which needs fixing by external actors, UK universities are incentivised and well-placed to play this role. The universities can also benefit financially from the positive image they build from the impact ranking.
Since most quasi-solutions by the UK and other “Global North” universities adopt the “Ts and Cs Approach”, they become part of the problem rather than the solutions. UK universities are entrenched in the colonial game of extraction of data, intellectual labour and credibility. Now, there is a system in place that will reward and glorify them so that they can continue benefiting from their unfair position. Not paying enough attention to the terms and conditions of engagement and its colonial roots, we contribute to the problem.
Going beyond the “Ts and Cs apply” Approach
Redressing epistemic inequities and injustices should be the primary concern of efforts to redress the colonially designed power imbalances in international research collaborations. De-centring coloniality from our knowledge frameworks can be the primary step towards “dignified co-habitation” as human beings and societies. This is why the Africa Charter for Transformative Research Collaborations calls for de-centring Eurocentric epistemic orientations in scientific knowledge production concerning Africa.
Coloniality of knowledge normalised the hierarchisation of knowledge systems. In this hierarchy, non-European knowledges are often labelled as “Indigenous,” whereas Eurocentric epistemic orientations, values, and principles are universalised. The universalist claim by Eurocentric knowledge systems is an antithesis to the realisation of conviviality. Conviviality thrives by recognising the limitations of our knowledge frameworks and valuing other knowledge systems. Most UK and Global North universities are vectors of the universalist claim of Eurocentrism. If we are conscious of the incompleteness of our epistemic orientations, our transboundary research initiatives will have room for epistemic humility – the openness to learn from others.
In a system where the coloniality of being is normalised, non-Whites/non-Europeans have less value as humans and less credibility as knowers. They are often portrayed as faceless or nameless enslaved beings, captives, colonial subjects, drowning migrants, influx or wave of illegal aliens, collateral damages of imperial wars or terrorists, especially if they dare to resist colonisation and colonialism. A university system and a research collaboration that does not recognise the human and epistemic dignity of the ‘other’ reinforces coloniality.
Going beyond the “Ts and Cs Apply” approach requires intentionally disruptive actions, thought provocations and arguments that can bring the business-as-usual lifestyle to a grinding stop. Colonial relations sustain societies’ current affluent and luxurious lifestyles, mainly in the Global North. Coloniality of power conceals the blood, tears, and sweat of societies that produce our daily consumables (tech, food, cloth, oil, jewellery, etc). If our pursuit of knowledge through international research collaboration takes this for granted, we are culpable either by omission or commission.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the author
Eyob Gebremariam
Eyob Balcha Gebremariam is Research Associate at the Perivoli Africa Research Centre, University of Bristol, UK, Visiting Fellow at the University of Cape Town (2024-2025) and Member of the Council at the Development Studies Association, UK. He graduated from the International Institute of Social Studies in 2009.
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Conventional Disarmament, Demobilisation, and Reintegration (DDR) frameworks in Africa remain limited by masculinist and colonial legacies that marginalise the knowledge of African women’s and their lived realities. In this blog, visiting International Institute of Social Studies (ISS) researcher, Esther Beckley advances a feminist-decolonial intervention that centres women’s knowledge as indispensable to reimagining peacebuilding beyond militarised and exclusionary paradigms. This shift is essential for achieving effective peace processes.
“We are not firing guns, but we are not at peace”. This sentiment, echoed by one of the women I encountered in Liberia during my PhD field research in 2022, encapsulates a critical challenge in “post-conflict” Africa. More than two decades have passed since the adoption of United Nations Security Council Resolution 1325 on Women, Peace and Security (WPS), which prioritised women’s protection and participation in conflict and its aftermath. Hailed as a landmark in recognising women’s experiences of war and contributions to peace, the resolution laid the groundwork for gender-sensitive peacebuilding frameworks worldwide, including Disarmament, Demobilisation, and Reintegration (DDR) programmes.
In this article, I offer a feminist-decolonial reckoning with DDR in Africa – one that challenges the colonial roots and gender biases of these processes, and centres the voices and realities of African women so often ignored. Drawing on examples from Sierra Leone, Nigeria, Liberia, and the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), I reflect on how DDR processes continue to operate through narrow definitions of combatant identity, exclusionary disarmament criteria, and a persistent inability to value women’s plural and communal approaches to peace. Beyond the question of inclusion, I ask: Which kinds of peace are being imagined?Whose security is being prioritised?And what violence is rendered invisible in the process? Doing so allows for a deeper understanding of how African women’s experiences can reshape peacebuilding into a more just and grounded practice.
Beyond the rhetoric of inclusion: The limits of gender mainstreaming
Women in Africa have never been absent from conflict. In Sierra Leone, figures like “Adama cut hand” and “Krio Mammy” embodied a complex warrior identity, challenging the stereotype of women as passive victims of war. In northeastern Nigeria, the widespread use of girls as suicide bombers by Boko Haram reveals a calculated militarisation of girlhood. Likewise, in Goma, DRC, some of the women I encountered in 2022 spoke of occupying roles as commanders, platoon leaders, logistics coordinators, and so forth. Yet, DDR programmes across Africa have persistently treated women’s participation in conflict as anomalous or secondary.
This exclusion is not incidental. It reflects the coloniality of peacebuilding, a system that privileges Western top-down models and masculinist understandings of war, while delegitimising the complex and fluid roles women occupy during and after conflict. In Sierra Leone, female fighters within the Kamajor Civil Defence Forces were left out of DDR processes because they did not fit the predefined mould of the disarmed soldier. In Nigeria, women affected by the Niger Delta insurgency and the counterinsurgency war in the Northeast were similarly marginalised by state-led peace initiatives such as the Presidential Amnesty Programme and Operation Safe Corridor. These programmes, despite being framed within WPS language, failed to acknowledge the socio-political and gendered dynamics that shape women’s experiences of conflict and recovery.
“Informal” peacebuilding as epistemic resistance
In the face of structural exclusion from formal peace processes, African women have long practised peacebuilding on their own terms, drawing from cultural knowledge(s), spiritual resilience, and communal solidarity. These practices, often unseen by dominant DDR frameworks, constitute powerful forms of epistemic resistance – challenging dominant knowledge systems and asserting their own ways of knowing and being. In this context, it represents women’s active resistance to the narrow definitions of peace and peacebuilding embedded in DDR programmes. They offer plural ways of knowing and doing peace, rooted in collective healing, intergenerational memory, and care.
Consider Liberia, where women’s movements, notably Women in Peacebuilding Network (WIPNET), mobilised mass actions combining Christian and Muslim prayer circles, sit-ins, song, and silent protest. Their methods, born out of necessity and resilience, may not have resembled conventional conflict resolution, but their impact was undeniable. Through everyday activism, they created political pressure that eventually helped end the war and paved the way for the election of Africa’s first female head of state. These practices disrupt the distinction made between victim and agent, public and private, formal and informal, reclaiming peace as a communal, ongoing process rather than a set of steps to be completed.
These forms of peacebuilding are not simply add-ons to liberal peace processes; they expose how the “peace” envisioned in DDR and WPS agendas often neglects the violences women continue to endure in “post-conflict” contexts: domestic violence, land dispossession, political exclusion, illiteracy, and trauma. As one of the women in Liberia told me, “The war is over, but our struggle is not”. Their activism around issues like drug abuse, domestic violence, and declining female political representation, though not always labelled “peacebuilding”, is deeply political and rooted in relational justice and survival.
By ignoring these practices, DDR programmes perpetuate epistemic injustice. They continue to treat peacebuilding as a domain of expertise held by international actors and armed men, rather than a relational, lived process in which women are already engaged. Feminist-decolonial approaches compel us to ask: Which forms of knowledge are recognised as legitimate?Who is authorised to speak, and whose voices remain unheard?
Towards feminist-decolonial peacebuilding
For DDR in Africa to be truly meaningful, it must abandon its masculinist, militarised, and top-down foundations. A feminist-decolonial approach demands a radical reimagining beyond the standard three-step process. Disarmament must extend beyond weapons to acknowledge women’s unique experiences of war, while demobilisation must ensure safety and inclusion for female ex-combatants. Reintegration requires holistic healing that is psychological, spiritual, and relational, not just economic support. Crucially, we must ask what peace and reintegration mean for women whose bodies were sites for warfare and survival or who bore the burdens of conflict without wielding arms.
Central to this transformation is recognising African women’s knowledges such as prayer, storytelling, rituals, and care as vital peacebuilding practices that challenge the liberal peace framework. Tokenistic gender mainstreaming falls short because DDR must confront colonial legacies that marginalise women’s political labour and exclude them from decision-making. Feminist-decolonial peacebuilding calls for fundamentally reimagining peace as justice, dignity, and relational repair, emerging from communities rather than institutions. This is not a tweak but a reckoning and a shift toward liberation grounded in voices too often forgotten.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the Author
Esther Beckley
Esther Beckley is a visiting research fellow at the International Institute of Social Studies (ISS). Her PhD research centered the peacebuilding practices of indigenous women in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) and Liberia, learning how they navigate and reshape complex ‘postconflict’ environments within their communities. Grounded in a feminist-decolonial approach, her work challenges dominant colonial narratives that have long silenced these women’s voices, foregrounding the significance of their spiritual, relational, and communal methods of building peace. This research provides critical insights into the limitations of conventional Disarmament, Demobilisation and Reintegration (DDR) programmes and emphasises the need for more transformative and contextually grounded peace processes.
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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: RedditThe problematic passage in question. Image: Reddit
The incident raises critical questions about editorial oversight in educational publishing and the responsibility institutions bear when shaping children’s understanding of diversity and inclusion. For a city celebrating nearly eight centuries of history, the oversight represents a missed opportunity to model the inclusive values Amsterdam claims to champion.
Who are Amsterdam’s Tourists?
The idea of Chinese tourists “blocking the bike path” paints a vivid, supposedly familiar image—but it’s not supported by data. According to the 2023–2024 Toerisme MRA report, visitors from Asia accounted for only 8% of hotel overnight stays in Amsterdam in 2023. In contrast, 54% came from the rest of Europe, 17% from the Americas, and 18% were Dutch.
Tourism growth between 2019 and 2023 was highest among European and American guests, not Asian ones. The visibility of Asian tourists is being exaggerated and weaponized through cognitive distortions like availability bias, where rare but vivid impressions are perceived as more common than they are.
From Bias to Dehumanization
In psychology, stereotypes are heuristics— mental shortcuts used to categorize and simplify. They reduce people to flattened, predictable group traits. Although they ease mental load, they cause real harm when used to navigate social life.
Children absorb stereotypes early. By age seven, many have already internalized group-based categories learned from books, media, and adults. When a schoolbook casts a specific ethnic group, in this case, Chinese, as a social nuisance, it builds implicit biases: automatic associations between group identity and negative traits.
But the path doesn’t end there. As Gordon Allport outlined in his “scale of prejudice,” stereotypes escalate. When repeated enough, they lead to objectification — seeing people not as individuals, but as representatives of a group. That group is then more easily dismissed, mocked, blamed, or even harmed, with less guilt.
The dehumanizing tone becomes especially stark when we read the other obstacles in the same game section:
“Een reiger heeft op je hoofd gepoept. Je moet terug naar huis (vakje 18) om je haar te wassen.” (A heron pooped on your head. Go back home to wash your hair.)
“Plons. Je probeert een mega-duif te ontwijken met je fiets, maar valt in de gracht. Je moet helemaal terugzwemmen naar start.” (Splash. You try to dodge a mega-pigeon on your bike, but fall into the canal. Swim all the way back to the start.)
In this context, Chinese tourists are the only human obstacle, grouped alongside animal accidents and fictional giant birds. This reinforces a subconscious lesson: some people are not peers — they are problems.
A historical pattern
The casual stereotyping found in Amsterdam’s children’s book follows a well-documented historical pattern where seemingly minor representations precede more serious discrimination. The Amsterdam book incident, while seemingly minor, fits within this broader historical context of how prejudice becomes embedded in society’s foundational institutions.
In 1930s Germany, anti-Semitic imagery and language appeared in school textbooks and public messaging years before systematic persecution began. Educational materials depicted Jewish citizens through derogatory caricatures and false narratives, gradually normalizing prejudice in the public consciousness.
During the latter half of the 20th century in America, media portrayals consistently framed Black Americans through the lens of criminality and violence. These representations helped build public support for policies that would lead to mass incarceration, with communities of colour disproportionately targeted by law enforcement and judicial systems.
Following 9/11 attacks, Muslims faced increasingly negative portrayals in media and popular culture, depicted as inherently threatening or suspicious. This narrative shift preceded and justified expanded surveillance programs that specifically monitored Muslim communities and individuals.
Scholars who study the sociology of discrimination have identified this progression as a common precursor to institutional bias: stereotypical portrayals in popular culture and educational materials gradually shift public perception, creating the social conditions necessary for discriminatory policies to gain acceptance.
East Asians, especially those perceived as Chinese, have long faced similar treatment. During COVID-19, Asians across Europe were verbally harassed and physically attacked. In Tilburg, a Chinese-Dutch student at Tilburg University, Cindy, was brutally attacked in an elevator after asking a group to stop singing a racist song: Voorkomen is beter dan Chinezen (“Prevention is better than Chinese”). She suffered a concussion and knife wounds. Before leaving her unconscious, the attackers said they would “eradicate the coronavirus.”
Cindy’s story illustrates the continuum from mockery to violence, and how normalized stereotyping can desensitize people to cruelty.
And racists don’t differentiate between Chinese, Japanese, Korean, or Vietnamese. When one is mocked, all are targeted.
Systemic Roots
Equally troubling is that, according to the publisher’s own statement, the book passed through multiple levels of review and testing—city departments, school boards, and teachers, without objection. This reflects a deeper issue: normative bias, where majority-group perspectives are mistaken for neutrality.
It’s not necessarily malice. But when no one notices, it signals a system that is not built to detect or understand minority harm.
Public reactions have further exposed this divide. Dutch media figure Tina Nijkamp publicly criticized the passage and highlighted the absence of East Asian representation in Dutch TV and media. However, some online commenters called the backlash oversensitive, arguing “it’s just a joke” or “I’m Chinese and I’m not offended.”
Psychologically, this reflects pluralistic ignorance and false consensus bias: the assumption that one’s view is universal, and the failure to recognize diverse lived experiences.
But the data contradicts these dismissals. In March 2024, the Dutch government released the first national survey on discrimination against people of (South)East Asian descent. One in three reported experiencing discrimination in the past year. Minister Van Gennip responded:
“Discrimination against people of (South)East Asian descent must stop.”
Asian-Dutch community leader Hui-Hui Pan (@huihui_panonfire) posted a widely shared critique:
“Mijn stad is jarig. Maar waarom vieren we het met racisme?” (“My city is having a birthday. But why are we celebrating it with racism?”)
She called it “racism in children’s language.” The Pan Asian Collective, which she founded, launched a national campaign and is organizing the National Congress against Discrimination and Racism on 26 June 2025, where Utrecht University and Dataschool will present findings on Asian underrepresentation in 25 years of Dutch media coverage.
Their message: this isn’t about one book—it’s about a long, visible pattern of exclusion.
Entrenched Normalization
In response to public concern, various institutions linked to Mijn Jarige Stad began clarifying their roles. The Amsterdam Museum stated it was not involved in content creation, despite its name appearing in the book. Stichting Amsterdam 750 funded the project, but delegated execution to the Programmabureau Amsterdam 750, part of the city government. The publisher, Pavlov, initially issued a standard response emphasizing positive intent and broad involvement:
“The book was developed in collaboration with all primary schools through the Breed Bestuurlijk Overleg (BBO), and extensively tested with students and teachers from three different Amsterdam schools… We sincerely had no intention to insult or hurt any group.”
This response—focused on process, intention, and positive feedback—sidestepped the core issue: harm was done, and a line that dehumanizes East Asians passed through supposedly inclusive safeguards. The problem isn’t that one group failed; the problem is how normalized and institutionally invisible anti-Asian stereotypes remain, even in materials for children.
This is not a matter of blaming a single actor or demanding symbolic apologies. The book should be recalled, and what’s needed now is an honest reckoning — not just of the production process, but of how certain forms of discrimination are so implicit, so embedded in everyday thinking, that they go unnoticed by those involved and even by broader audiences who dismiss criticism as oversensitivity.
Yet this very invisibility is reinforced by the fragmentation of accountability. It highlights a deeper issue: when everyone is involved, no one is responsible. And when no one notices the harm, it reveals how profoundly such portrayals are normalized in our collective imagination.
From Learning to Living
From a behavioral science perspective, the issue extends far beyond questions of political sensitivity. Research demonstrates how cognitive shortcuts—the mental patterns children use to navigate social situations, become deeply embedded through repeated exposure to stereotypical representations.
Child development studies reveal that young minds absorb social hierarchies through seemingly innocuous content, internalizing messages about which groups hold value and which can be dismissed. These early lessons shape neural pathways that influence decision-making well into adulthood.
The potency of stereotypes lies not in their malicious intent but in their subtle persistence. They need not provoke outrage to encode prejudice, nor offend every reader to establish harmful categories of human worth. When children encounter these patterns repeatedly—whether in games, stories, or casual conversation—they learn implicit lessons about power dynamics and social belonging.
Educational content serves a dual purpose: it teaches explicit knowledge while simultaneously transmitting unspoken values about empathy, respect, and human dignity. A board game instruction becomes more than entertainment; it becomes a framework for understanding who deserves consideration and who can be overlooked.
The distribution of 60,000 books represents more than a municipal celebration. It constitutes the widespread dissemination of social scripts—subtle but powerful instructions that will influence how an entire generation of children perceives and interacts with others throughout their lives.
In this context, editorial choices carry profound responsibility, shaping not just individual attitudes but the social fabric of communities for decades to come.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the Author:
Zhiqi Xu
Zhiqi Xu is a behavioral scientist, psychologist, and development policy researcher. She investigates how people and communities respond to policy interventions and social change, uncovering the social and behavioral roots of transformation across contexts. Her work bridges disciplines to promote more inclusive and human-centered development thinking.
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Kalehe, a territory in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC)located just to the north of Bukavu, has witnessed an unprecedented humanitarian crisis triggered by heavy rains in May 2023, resulting in at least 513 deaths, 5 525 people missing, 2 046 houses destroyed, many schools and health centres destroyed However, it was possible to prevent some of the worst effects of the crisis if efforts of reforestation were undertaken beforehand to reduce risks to lives and livelihoods. The DRC Humanitarian Observatory (DRC HO) calls for more attention to prevent such crises sustainably in the future in the DRC and in other similar contexts in the world.A humanitarian crisis with multiple consequences
Kalehe is one of the territories in the province of South-Kivu located in the northern side of Bukavu city (capital city of South-Kivu province). It covers the Eastern littoral of the Kivu Lake in Eastern DRC. Decades ago, there was a large tree-planting effort to protect the environment. In recent years, however, Kalehe’s population has grown rapidly due to the presence of Internally Displaced People (IDPs) in the territory. As a result of this, Kalehe has experienced widescale and rapid deforestation and loss of grassland in the middle and high plateaux to produce wood and charcoal without planting other trees.
In the night of 4 May 2023, heavy rains caused water levels to rise,as well as flooding in some villages of the Bushushu groupement in the Buhavu chiefdom of this territory. The Lukungula River of Bushushu, and the Kamikonzi River in Nyamukubi went beyond their limits, resulting in flooding and spreading of mixture of water, large stones, and mud in four out of seven sub villages of the locality, particularly Bushushu, Kabuchungu, Nyamukubi and Musumba. The humanitarian consequences of this were dramatic and multiform: 5525 people missing, more than 513 bodies buried, more than 2046 houses totally destroyed, more than 562 families mourning, many schools and health centres destroyed, loss of household assets including tables, chairs, and loss of documents of value such as electoral cards. The DRC HO team conducted fieldwork from 29 through 30 June 2023 in the area to know more about the crisis. WFP’s emergency response to the Kalehe floods, South Kivu – Flash Report #2 (19 May 2023) – Democratic Republic of the Congo | ReliefWebKalehe crisis: challenges of the humanitarian assistance
During the fieldwork, the team identified several challenges associated with: (i) people’s (re-)location, (ii) deforestation, (iii) insufficient aid and, (iv) deficit of accountability while delivering assistance.
Challenges of relocation: four villages were totally devastated, people lacked where to reside in terms of on which land to construct houses, infrastructures such as water points, health centres, schools, churches, markets, fields for cultivation, etc.
Challenges of reforestation: people did fell trees without control; areas became entirely less grassy because of charcoal production and/or cultivable land. There was a clear link between lack of environmental protection and mud and landslides, which cause wide scale destruction
Challenges of insufficient aid: state actors (Government, First Lady) and non-state actors (churches, associations), international actors (ACTED, OXFAM, Caritas, World Vision, MIDEFEOPS, Mercy Corps), together with United Nations agencies (OCHA, PAM, HCR, UNICEF) mobilized themselves since the start of the crisis. Even though, needs remained huge in terms of food and non-food items (shelters, clothes, kitchen items, cover, mosquito nets), water, sanitation and hygiene (WASH), education, health, agriculture, psychosocial support, dignity kits for women,among others.
Challenges of accountability while delivering assistance: Some mechanisms of accountability were operational on the ground. Even though, in the vast majority of cases, there were reporting about discrimination of true beneficiaries in the selection process, which worked in favour of those who were close relatives to local leaders, often leaving out victims. In other cases, corruption took the form of bribing assistance by some humanitarian actors and selection of beneficiaries who were not victims. They delivered assistance without necessarily involving affected people and without any intention to take into account their points of viewsnor did they think reporting to them. At the same time however, actors reported more to their donors than towards affected people.
Photo 1: survival of the Kalehe crisis waiting for assistance in front of a humanitarian actor office, photo of 30 June 2023, in KaleheContextual factors
Kalehe is located at 60 kilometres from Bukavu city; most of humanitarian actors have offices at in Bukavu. Local leaders created a local crisis committee in Kalehe. According to informants, it is at this stage that there were many cases of aid misappropriation in terms of weak coordination of interventions on the ground, resulting in double cases, omissions, embezzlements, falsifications of recipient lists by some humanitarian actors in complicity with some local authorities. There was not necessarily harmony between lists of genuine victims and those who benefited aid; as a result, some received aid more than three times, while others did not receive anything. The weak involvement of affected populations in needs’ identification contributed negatively. Some actors worked just with local leaders who, often less informed of categories of peoples’ specific needs. Community leaders, supposed to represent the population, hardly fed back information shared in meetings to their constituency; creating an information vacuum.
Two recommendations
During the DRC HO event of 15 September 2023, where they shared and discussed fieldwork findings, participants formulated two main recommendations in the sense of concrete actions to set in place:
Relocate affected people close to cultivable lands
During and after the crises in DRC, displaced people tended to settle in the Kalehe territory. Kalehe is a zone heavily occupied by plantations of wealthy people, and so the task to find an appropriate site for IDPs became a major challenge. This recommendation abides by the tripartite Congolese State-land owners-affected populations paradigm to ensure that people can live in peace. At the same time, reforestation efforts should be intensified, especially in hilly and affected and non-affected areas.
Concentration of humanitarian aid in favour of affected populations by working for and with them.
To maximize chances to assist the maximum of affected people, IDPs need to be at the heart of assistance interventions. Needs’ identification, lists of distribution and their approval, certification of right victims are all examples of true willingness to involve them in the all process of assistance. Taking into account all relevant sectors namely health, education, reconstruction, habitat, water, sanitation and hygiene (WASH), and socio-psychological support. The improvement of social accountability during aid delivery, in particular downward accountability rather than just upward accountability. These lessons should guide every assistance coordination similar to the Kalehe context in the DRC and across the globe.
[1] We wrote this blog from the discussion of the DRC-HO event of 15 September 2023; we recognize active participation of Denise Shukuru Manegabe, Samuella Lukenge, Moise Amisi Ezdra, Kamos Bishindo, Darcin Ajuaye Kagadju and Innocent Assumani.Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the Authors:
Patrick Milabyo Kyamusugulwa is a Professor at the Bukavu High Institute of Medical Techniques, in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC). He is a member of the DRC Humanitarian Observatory and member of the Social Science Centre for African Development-KUTAFITI.
Delu Lusambya Mwenebyake is a PhD researcher at the International Institute of Social Studies (Erasmus University Rotterdam). Delu is working on humanitarian governance in the Democratic Republic of Congo: Community-driven, accountability, and advocacy in Humanitarian Actions.
Jules Amani Kamanyula is a member of both CERDHO of the Catholic University of Bukavu and the DRC Humanitarian Observatory.
Rachel Sifa Katembera is a member of civil society and active member of the DRC Humanitarian Observatory.
Léonie Aishe Saidi is a medical doctor, both member of Assist ASBL and the DRC Humanitarian Observatory.
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This blog is part of the Humanitarian Governance: Accountability, Advocacy, Alternatives’ project. This project has received funding from the European Research Council (ERC) under the European Union’s Horizon 2020 research and innovation programme under grant agreement No. 884139
In this blog, Siyum Adugna Mamo and Ayehu Bacha Teso look at political developments within Ethiopia in the last decade, and their effects on freedom of academic work and thought as well as on material conditions within the country. They find that by deliberately weakening intellectuals both morally and economically, forcing them into dire living conditions, and suppressing dissenting voices, the authoritarian regime in Ethiopia has engaged in epistemicide. This has demoralized intellectuals, stifled knowledge production, and eroded the coming generation’s hope for learning.
The regime that came to power in Ethiopia in 2018, led by the Prosperity Party of Prime Minister (PM) Abiy Ahmed, didn’t take long before it turned authoritarian. Persecuting dissenting views, jailing journalists, members of parliament, and intellectuals critical of the regime quickly became the new normal in Ethiopia. Whilst civil servants in the country have also faced unprecedented challenges following the transition to the current government, this paper focuses on the challenges faced by intellectuals — academic and research staff, in public Higher Education Institutions (HEIs). Using the concept of epistemicide to refer to violence against knowledge and the intellectuals that produce it in the context of Ethiopia, this blog considers how the Ethiopian government has engaged in ‘epistemicide’. By deliberately subjecting the country’s intellectuals to dire living conditions to weaken them both morally and economically, the regime has not only heavily damaged current intellectual conditions within the country, but also eroded the hope for the pursuit of knowledge among future generations.
From thought leaders to outcasts: the marginalization of intellectuals
Since 2018, the Ethiopian government has expressed hostility toward intellectuals and has deliberately distanced them from the political arena. The aim is seemingly to weaken the opposition base by weakening the intellectuals morally and economically in the country. Several government policies have driven intellectuals into dire living conditions with meagre monthly salaries that barely cover their basic needs, the regime has successfully weakened them economically. It has also worked to demoralize intellectuals by alienating them from the nation and framing them as instigators of violent incidents and crises in the country. This deliberate effort aims to render intellectuals powerless and unrecognized by society at large. This has been carried out in tandem with silencing dissenting voices—including imprisoning academics, journalists, political activists, members of parliament, and opposition political party members critical of its policies.
From Lecture Halls to Breadlines: Ethiopian academics now earn less than casual workers
Intellectuals are being forced into dire living conditions where they cannot cover their basic needs with their monthly wage. A full professor earns a gross monthly salary of $ 158, an associate professor earns $ 146, an assistant professor receives $ 134, and a lecturer receives $ 94 in gross monthly salary (see the graph below). This amount is significantly lower than the income of casual and low-skilled workers, for example a shoeshine who polishes shoes on the streets of Addis Ababa. The monthly salaries of academic staff in HEIs are almost negligible in a country where the cost of living is soaring, and inflation is skyrocketing.
Professors, who spend years and years reaching the highest level of the intellectual ladder, earns a salary that cannot even cover their basic monthly expenses. Such unfair treatment is demoralizing for intellectuals, making it difficult not only to feed themselves but also to support their families. It also discourages them from maintaining motivation for their work, ultimately stifling innovation and knowledge production. This is reflected in the regime’s deliberate efforts to impoverish the educated elites in the country. This economic suffocation of intellectuals is a calculated move. When brilliant minds are forced to focus on mere survival—scrambling to put food on the table or looking for other options—they cannot contribute to the nation’s intellectual or political development.
At the same time as academic staff at traditional HEI’s in Ethiopia suffer there is a growing trend of plagiarism and acquiring illegitimate degrees largely by the cadres of the regime. This extends from low level administrators who easily buy certificates to the PM who has been heavily criticized for plagiarizing a significant portion his PhD dissertation.
Eroding the hopes of the coming generation
With such a system that actively works to weaken the intellectuals both morally and economically, the coming generation are likely to grow up hopeless about learning and knowledge. Witnessing the struggle of intellectuals who are unable to cover their basic needs, it is likely that a career as an academic will become less and less attractive to young people and graduates: even senior Professors are now unable to feed themselves, support their families, or pay for their children’s school fees. How can young people develop a commitment to learning when their teachers, many with advanced degrees, are starving, unable to change their clothes, and unable to pay rent and sleeping in their offices? Schools and universities, once seen as gateways to opportunity, are now viewed with skepticism and despair. The regime is undermining innovation and the drive to produce knowledge not only among its current intellectuals but also within future generations eroding their hope for learning. This has severe implications for the country’s socio-economic and political development.
A picture showing a Wollo University staff, who is also a PhD candidate at Addis Ababa University in Ethiopia, begging on the street of Addis Ababa.
Conclusion
The fight against epistemicide and anti-intellectualism in Ethiopia is not just a fight for intellectuals; it is a fight for the soul of the nation. It is a fight to reclaim the hope of future generations, to restore the value of knowledge, and to ensure that critical thinking and innovation can flourish once again. The regime in Ethiopia has engaged in deliberate epistemicide, weakening intellectuals both morally and economically, and placing them in dire living conditions. This reality underscores the importance of advocating for change by pushing the regime to value knowledge, restore the livelihoods of intellectuals, and rekindle hope for future generations. Both intellectuals and the knowledge they produce are not only crucial for the country’s development but also essential in shaping the future of upcoming generations. A movement is therefore necessary to compel the regime to grant intellectuals and their knowledge a proper social standing. Both intellectuals and the knowledge they produce are not only crucial for the country’s development but also essential in shaping the future of the coming generations.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the Authors
Siyum Adugna Mamo
Siyum Adugna Mamo is a PhD fellow joining the Conflict Research Group at Ghent University in Belgium, and an academic staff at Jimma University, Ethiopia. He has a master’s degree in Development Studies (specializing in Conflict and Peace Studies) from the ISS, Erasmus University Rotterdam, The Hague, The Netherlands; and another master’s in Philosophy from Addis Ababa University.
Ayehu Bacha Teso
Ayehu Bacha Teso is a PhD fellow at Ghent University, Belgium, affiliated with the Conflict Research Group. His research focuses on urbanization and ethnic contestations in Ethiopia. He is an academic staff member at Jimma University, Ethiopia, and holds a master’s degree in cultural studies.
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In this blog to mark the International Day of Biodiversity, Kim-Tung Dao explores the interplay between international trade and environmental sustainability, which has become increasingly consequential in an era marked by escalating climate crises and geopolitical tensions. The resurgence of protectionist trade policies under President Donald Trump’s second term has intensified global economic disruptions, and trade cannot by itself ensure an equitable green transition in many contexts, but it can be a powerful driver.
AI Photo Generated by Bliss
TheEnvironmentalFootprintofGlobalCommerce
International trade has historically contributed to environmental degradation in multiple ways: maritime shipping alone accounts for approximately 3% of global CO2 emissions, with this figure projected to rise significantly without robust regulatory intervention. The carbon footprint of transportation represents only one dimension of trade’s environmental impact, though.
Additionally, it is common to outsource manufacturing to regions with lenient environmental regulations. This effectively exports emissions alongside production, undermining domestic climate policies through what economists term “carbonleakage”. This process not only shifts the geographic distribution of emissions but often increases their total volume as production moves to less efficient facilities.
Perhaps most concerning is trade’s role in exploiting the natural world. Trade-driven demand for commodities like palm oil, soy, and beef has accelerated deforestation in critical ecosystems such as the Amazon rainforest and Southeast Asian forests, exacerbating biodiversity loss and climate change the conversion of these carbon-rich landscapes (through widescale deforestation) for agricultural production represents a doubly negative climate impact: releasing stored carbon while reducing future sequestration capacity.
Trade Wars: Disruption with Environmental Consequences
The first Trump administration’s withdrawal from the Paris Agreement via Executive Order14162 signals a retreat from international climate commitments, potentially encouraging other nations to deprioritize environmental considerations in trade negotiations with the new Trump administration. This regulatory retreat threatens to undermine decades of progress in integrating sustainability principles into international commerce frameworks.
Trade as a Tool for Environmental Governance and Protection
Despite these challenges, trade agreements can serve as powerful instruments for environmental governance when properly structured. Modern trade deals increasingly incorporate environmental clauses aimed at promoting sustainable development. The United States–Mexico–Canada Agreement (USMCA), for instance, includes commitments to enforce environmental laws and combat illegal wildlife trade, representing an evolution in how environmental concerns are integrated into commercial frameworks.
Trade can accelerate the diffusion of clean technologies and sustainable practices across borders, creating economies of scale that drive down costs for environmental solutions. When markets for green technologies expand through trade, innovation accelerates and prices decline, making sustainability more economically viable globally. This positive feedback loop demonstrates trade’s potential as a catalyst for environmental progress. In addition, similar outcomes can also be achieved through state-led interventions: recent policy shifts, such as those documented by the International Energy Agency, show that governments are actively deploying clean energy policies and industrial strategies to foster innovation, reduce costs, and shape the emerging low-carbon economy.
Through regulatory cooperation mechanisms, trade agreements can promote the alignment of environmental standards, preventing a ‘race to the bottom’ in environmental protection. Harmonization of product standards, chemical regulations, and energy efficiency requirements can elevate environmental performance across entire industries and supply chains.
Green Trade: Case Studies and Promising Developments
The global market for environmental goods and services represents a significant growth sector within international trade. According to the OECD, exports of green goods have nearly doubled over the past decade, reflecting growing demand for sustainable solutions across markets. This expansion demonstrates that environmental protection and economic opportunity need not be mutually exclusive.
The European Union’s Carbon Border Adjustment Mechanism (CBAM) aims to align trade practices with climate goals by imposing carbon tariffs on imports based on their ‘embedded emissions’: a potential model for integrating climate considerations into trade policy. This innovative approach addresses competitive concerns while creating incentives for trading partners to strengthen their own climate policies.
Circular economy initiatives supported through trade policies can reduce resource extraction and waste, fostering more sustainable consumption patterns globally. Trade frameworks that facilitate the movement of recycled materials, remanufactured goods, and repair services help extend product lifecycles and reduce environmental footprints across value chains.
Towards an EcoConscious Trade Regime: A Path Forward
Reconciling trade with environmental sustainability requires fundamental changes to global economic architecture. Environmental objectives must be embedded more directly within trade institutions and agreements, with mechanisms to resolve conflicts between trade and environmental rules. This institutional reform would elevate environmental considerations from peripheral concerns to central organizing principles.
Trade policies should explicitly support the United Nations Sustainable Development Goals and Paris Agreement commitments through incentive structures and compliance mechanisms. Creating positive linkages between trade benefits and environmental performance can harness economic motivation to drive sustainability improvements.
Innovative models like “doughnut economics,” as proposed by Kate Raworth, propose reorienting economic activity within ecological boundaries while meeting social needs, an approach that could inform more sustainable trade policies. This framework recognizes planetary limits as non-negotiable constraints within which economic prosperity must be pursued.
Trade agreements should incorporate support for workers and communities affected by the shift to more sustainable production methods, ensuring that environmental progress doesn’t exacerbate economic inequality. These just transition provisions acknowledge that sustainability transformations create both winners and losers, requiring active management of social impacts.
Trade is only one driver of green transitions
The current trajectory of international trade, characterized by rising protectionism and environmental deregulation, poses significant challenges to global sustainability efforts. However, trade also holds tremendous potential to drive environmental innovation and cooperation. Realizing this potential requires a deliberate and coordinated approach to integrating environmental objectives into trade policy, ensuring that economic growth supports rather than undermines planetary health.
As nations navigate complex trade relationships in an era of climate urgency, the choices made today will significantly shape both economic systems and environmental outcomes for generations to come. The imperative is clear: we must design trade policies that recognize ecological boundaries as fundamental constraints within which prosperity must be pursued.
References
Cristea, M., Hummels, D., Puzzello, L., & Avetisyan, H. (2013). Trade and the Greenhouse Gas Emissions from International Freight Transport. Journal of Environmental Economics and Management, 65(1), 153–173.
Curtis, P. G., Slay, C. M., Harris, N. L., Tyukavina, A., & Hansen, M. C. (2018). Classifying drivers of global forest loss. Science, 361(6407), 1108–1111.
Raworth, K. (2017). Doughnut Economics: Seven Ways to Think Like a 21st-Century Economist.
Chelsea Green Publishing.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the author
Kim Tung Dao
Kim Tung Dao is a recent PhD graduate of the International Institute of Social Studies, Erasmus University Rotterdam. Her research interests include globalization, international trade, sustainable development, and the history of economic thought.
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In this blog, Dr Maria Gabriela Palacio uses the example of The Darien Gap (a jungle crossing formerly utilised by forced migrants and refugees to travel North towards the USA) to consider the effects of recently changed and more brutal deportation policies put into place by the USA. More and more Ecuadorians are being forcefully returned to a country suffering from multiple damaging geopolitical currents, which is being asked to process large numbers of deportees whilst grappling with its patterns of out-migration.
Photo Credit: Akpan, 2024 Simulated by ChatGPT
Barely months ago, Ecuadorians were the second-largest group braving the perilous Darién Gap on their way to the United States; today, the trail is almost silent. Their abrupt disappearance is not just the outcome of a new deportation rule-set. It exposes a deeper political-economy in which mobility and immobility are governed by structures that render certain lives dispensable.
At the centre of this shift is the renewed U.S. deportation regime. Since Trump’s return to office, more than 100,000 people have been deported in just ten weeks. Over 2,000 Ecuadorians have been forcibly returned, many without hearings, detained in private facilities and flown home under armed guard. This is governance through expulsion.
Ecuadorians today are not “deciding” to stay or return. For many, the journey ends not at the border but on a deportation flight, disoriented and handcuffed, arriving with a plastic bag of belongings at Guayaquil airport. They are not returning to opportunity but to the same political and economic structures that first pushed them out.
This is not just the arithmetic of migration: it is the logic of a global regime of accumulation that produces and manages surplus populations. A critical political economy perspective reveals that migration is not just a reaction to hardship but a structural outcome wherein labour becomes mobile, governable, and dispensable due to long-established patterns of dependency, dispossession, and coercive governance. Deportation, in this light, is not a policy failure but a tool that sorts, removes, and disciplines those made surplus by design.
Others, unable to return or continue northward, remain like many other Latin American migrants trapped along the Andes–Central America–North America corridor, caught between increasingly punitive migration regimes and the uncertain protection of overstretched asylum systems. As migration routes are militarised and digital tools for asylum access are cancelled or restricted, a growing number of migrants are forced into reverse movement, undertaking costly and dangerous journeys back south. Some, like those arriving in the Colombian port town of Necoclí, spend thousands of dollars only to find themselves unable to continue or return, stranded without money, documents, or shelter. For others, the journey halts mid-route, creating new bottlenecks in Panama, Guatemala, or southern Mexico.
In these spaces of stalled mobility, migrants navigate a dense ecosystem of state and non-state actors: smugglers, private contractors, ferry operators, humanitarian organisations, and municipal authorities, forming a transnational migration industry. This industry manages not just “flows” but also immobility. It offers temporary passage, paperwork, food, or credit, often at a high cost, while blurring the line between protection and extraction. As formal protections shrink, mobility becomes commodified, mediated through precarious arrangements that feed off uncertainty and the shifting contours of migration policy.
What happens when a country simultaneously expels and receives its people, when labour is demanded abroad yet unprotected, and its return is funnelled into informal survival? These trajectories are not individual mishaps; they are produced by a regime that displaces populations through extraction, polices them through securitised borders, and repatriates them under the veneer of humanitarian policy.
In Ecuador, that regime is palpable: rolling blackouts stall hospitals and markets, armed violence reaches classrooms, and Indigenous territories are carved up by legal and paralegal extractive fronts. None of this is accidental. It stems from the dismantling of public infrastructure and the transfer of land and power to corporate actors, all within a global order that treats impoverished, racialised populations as surplus problems to be contained, displaced or discarded.
The question, then, is not only why Ecuadorians are returning but what kind of world is making this return inevitable.
The empty Darién trail is not the end of a journey but proof that a border system built on expulsion works as intended. It shifts responsibility from the global North to Latin American states and turns human mobility into a profitable detention, surveillance and return market. Deportation, in this context, is not an exception.
We must begin by asking different questions. Not only how to make migration safer or more “orderly,” but how to dismantle the global structures that produce dispensability in the first place. Migration regimes do not simply fail; they succeed in what they are designed to do: sort, discipline, and displace surplus populations created by extractive capitalism and securitised governance. In this view, deportation is not an aberration; it is the tangible expression of a world order that governs through expulsion. It legitimises neglect, turns mobility into criminality, and transforms human lives into data points in a market of detention, surveillance, and return.
The return of Ecuadorians is not the end of a journey; it is proof that a border regime built on expulsion works exactly as designed.
Notes:
For readers who want to trace the argument from Ecuador’s current return-migration crisis back to its structural roots, start with Jara, Mideros and Palacio (eds.) 2024, Política social, pobreza y desigualdad en el Ecuador, 1980-2021 my co-edited volume that charts four decades of welfare retrenchment, labour precarity and territorial inequalities. Then situate those findings within the broader political economy canon: W. Arthur Lewis’s (1954) seminal essay on surplus labour, Celso Furtado’s (1966) classic dependency analysis, Saskia Sassen’s (2014) study of “systemic expulsions” under global capitalism, and Tania Murray Li’s (2010) account of how neoliberal governance renders populations surplus.
Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the author
María Gabriela Palacio
Maria Gabriela Palacio is an Assistant Professor in Development Studies at the Institute for History, Faculty of Humanities, Leiden University. Her research asks how political-economic forces, social policy and migration regimes shape poverty, inequality and (in)security in Latin America. Trained as an economist, she holds a PhD and MA in Development Studies (ISS, Erasmus University Rotterdam), an MSc in NGO Management and Social Economy (Universitat de València) and a BA in Economics (Pontificia Universidad Católica del Ecuador).
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Domestic fires have heavily affected Bukavu in the eastern Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), causing deadly humanitarian crises with multiple effects. In 2024 alone, the DRC Humanitarian Observatory (DRC H-O) reported at least 59 cases of domestic fires leading to at least 21 deaths, 2706 houses, 5 schools and 4 churches were burnt, while at least 15,945 people were affected. However, proper urbanization and enforcement of Congolese urban regulations and norms could make a difference. In this blog, members of the DRC H-O call for more actions to prevent this type of crisis in the country and other similar contexts worldwide.Domestic fire at Kabono in the Kasali street in Kadutu, eastern DRC, 2024Domestic fires burning houses and resulting in dramatic effects
Bukavu is the capital city of the South-Kivu province in the eastern DRC. In 2024, its population was estimated to be at least at 1.3 million inhabitants, with almost two third living in less urbanized zones, with only 68.6% (∼29.7 km2) having been built-up. In the last 5 years, the city has been experiencing unprecedented cases of burnt houses with loss of numerous assets and many people’s deaths and injury, as well as multiple damages creating a visible yearly humanitarian repeated crisis. From 2018 through 2023, Mulengezi et al. have estimated increasing exponential cases of deaths (633.3%) and houses burnt (6501%). The DRC Humanitarian Observatory conducted a field visit to the three municipalities of the Bukavu city to inform this report.
Some observations
This report concerns the Camp-Zaïre and Inga avenue domestic fires in June 2023 and of the first nine months of 2024 in Bukavu; a domestic fire crisis in the city.
In 2023, in the night of 3 to 4 June, a large domestic fire occurred in the Camp-Zaïre and Inga avenues leaving at least 1098 people without homes forced to become internally displaced persons, the case being the fourth reported in the same Nkafu street in 2023 and the second in the same avenues since 2019. From January to September 2024, according to the DRC-HO, at least 59 domestic fire cases happened in Bukavu leading to at least 21 deaths, 2706 houses being damaged, 5 schools and 4 church buildings burnt and leaving at least 15,945 without homes and shelters, as can be seen in Figure 1. Fire has affected mostly the Kadutu and Ibanda communes with a peak in Nyalukemba (11.9%) in the former, and Nyakaliba (23.7%), Nkafu (20.3%) in the latter. However, in terms of houses burnt, Nyamugo Street was the most affected, with at least 2000 out of 2706 houses having been burnt, representing 73.9% of the total. In addition, other effects varied from burnt trees, conflicts over land among neighbours, many losses of valuable documents, including land property certificates, academic and high school diplomas, and electoral cards.
Domestic fires in Bukavu: some challenges in humanitarian assistance
Combatting these quick-spreading fires poses significant challenges, including those related to humanitarian assistance delivery.
Challenges of urbanization, electricity, road, and fire engine access
Despite the existence of Congolese regulations related to construction in urban settings and electrification of homes, many overcrowded houses built in unsuitable locations pose risks of erosion in the rainy season and of domestic fires during the dry season. These are made of semi-durable material and wood, and built next to each other without any space or footpath, creating a risk of fire spreading from one house to another and huge challenges to put out the fire. Houses are often located in areas with poorly constructed buildings, frequently have inadequate electricity installations, and due to a lack of roads for fire engine access, prompt intervention is difficult. The fire department also lacks the necessary equipment to intervene, and its staff are less trained and less motivated to do their job as firefighters. Though some fire engines exist in the city, they often lack fuel and proper maintenance to operate in case of an emergency, such as a domestic fire.
Challenges of the coordination committee, lists, and relocation
The most frequently mentioned challenge was the manipulation of lists of affected community members by local chiefs. There is evidence of these chiefs including their brothers and sisters even when they were not victims of the crisis on the lists to access individual benefits from aid distribution. The chiefs exaggerated some of these lists, though affected people were also included. The case comes from an avenue where victims received one metal sheet each, while non-victims received five metal sheets each, because they were either brothers, sisters or friends of the local chief. This is a common manifestation of a lack of transparency and accountability of the local aid coordination committee for personal interests; in some sites, there is not a real aid coordination committee; those who improvise themselves, do it for the sake to benefit from aid.
2. Challenges of unanswered needs and insufficient assistance
Despite assistance provided by the Central DRC Government through her Excellency the Prime Minister, the First Lady, the Provincial Government through his Excellency the Governor of Province, some philanthropic foundations, some private initiatives by a National Parliamentary members, aid remained generally insufficient. Assistance that was provided related mostly to food, rather than to Essential Households Assets (EHA) and shelters; humanitarian agencies (including the United Nations agencies) were virtually invisible, except for some such as the al Imdaad foundation. At the same time, basic needs of health, education, water, hygiene and sanitation (WASH), housing and relocation remained unanswered, and the affected community themselves identified the highest need for construction materials. It is true that sometimes the Government is overwhelmed with many crises to the extent of not being able to answer affected people’s needs in varied sites and zones.
Risk factors of domestic fire
In Bukavu, data collected by the DRC-HO have shown that mainly the lack of proper urbanization and the lack of enforcement of existing urban regulations and norms are the main risk factor to domestic fire and its humanitarian repeated crises. We found key risks broken down into imprudence in kitchen (45.8%), unknown causes (39.6%), and bad installation of electricity (6.3%), intra-house conflict (4.2%), criminal act and fire at fuel station (2.1%), respectively.
Recommendations in six areas
Better urbanization of the city and enforcement of regulations and urban norms at the municipality and division of land offices: To jail all of actors who deviate from regulations.Residents to demand and enforce such accountability by both judicial and administrative actors.
Relocation of all affected people to areas away from the risk of building collapseand domestic fire. Selecting these areas based on criteria of suitability for construction with electricity and water, closer to markets, schools and churches and accessible by road.
Reinforce qualitatively and quantitatively the local anti-fire brigade: Regularly revisit the training, motivation and equipment of the staff hired within the brigade, ensure that engines are always available and ready to stop any propagation of fire.
Creation of a ‘basket fund’ to prevent and combat domestic fires. Contribution of both National and Provincial Governments, of people of good will, parliamentary members and of private initiative to secure some fund to prevent fire and support anti-fire actions.
Promoting accountability and setting up earlier the coordination committee of assistance that is up to the task: Prompt selection of people, men and women from different backgrounds, motivated to identify victims and channel their needs to humanitarian actors. Also, being transparent and more accountable both vertically and horizontally about aid delivery to only affected people and involving affected community members in all cycle of assistance.
Regular advocacy and awareness raising of different sections of population: Intensive advocacy and awareness raising activities on: (i) the risk of domestic fire due to bad constructions and how to strengthen synergies of local chiefs to resist against any sort of land spoliation;(ii) mentality change to construct houses in durable materials and appropriate sites in cities;(iii) rural exodus by improving conditions in rural areas and; (iv) proper electricity installation in houses and set up an earlier warning system to prevent the spreading of fire.
[1] We recognize active participation of the DRC-HO members in the discussions of the 8 November 2024 advocacy café and the DRC-HO of 15 November 2024 from which the current blog is written, including Denise Shukuru Manegabe, Samuel Kyamundu, Jules Amani Kamanyula, Patience Mwanuka, Datty Hamuli, Eliane Ndagano, Gentil Kavusa, Jeremie Byenda and Julien Lukubika.Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.
About the authors:
Patrick Milabyo Kyamusugulwa is Professor at the Bukavu High Institute of Medical Techniques, in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC). He is a member of the DRC Humanitarian Observatory and a member of the Social Science Centre for African Development-KUTAFITI.
Delu Lusambya Mwenebyake is a PhD researcher at the International Institute of Social Studies (Erasmus University Rotterdam). Delu is working on humanitarian governance in the Democratic Republic of Congo: Community-driven, accountability, and advocacy in Humanitarian Actions.
Innocent Assumani Muganza is member of the DRC Humanitarian Observatory board in addition to being member of the Observatory.
Moise Amissi Esdra is Assistant at ISDR-Bukavu, member of CREGED and the DRC Humanitarian Observatory.
Salumu Saidi is member of both Assist asbl and the DRC Humanitarian Observatory.
Felicien Ahadi Mutaga is member of both Assist and the DRC Humanitarian Observatory.
Emmanuel Louis Muhanzi is member of both CERDHO of the Catholic University of Bukavu and the DRC Humanitarian Observatory.
Henri Kintuntu Munyangi is member of the DRC Humanitarian Observatory.
Kisangani Zacharie is member the DRC Humanitarian Observatory.
Léonie Aishe Saidi is a medical doctor, both member of Assist asbl and the DRC Humanitarian Observatory.
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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
By 
A humanitarian crisis with multiple consequences
Kalehe is one of the territories in the province of South-Kivu located in the northern side of Bukavu city (capital city of South-Kivu province). It covers the Eastern littoral of the Kivu Lake in Eastern DRC. Decades ago, there was a large tree-planting effort to protect the environment. In recent years, however, Kalehe’s population has grown rapidly due to the presence of Internally Displaced People (IDPs) in the territory. As a result of this, Kalehe has experienced widescale and rapid deforestation and loss of grassland in the middle and high plateaux to produce wood and charcoal without planting other trees.
In the night of 4 May 2023, heavy rains caused water levels to rise,as well as flooding in some villages of the Bushushu groupement in the Buhavu chiefdom of this territory. The Lukungula River of Bushushu, and the Kamikonzi River in Nyamukubi went beyond their limits, resulting in flooding and spreading of mixture of water, large stones, and mud in four out of seven sub villages of the locality, particularly Bushushu, Kabuchungu, Nyamukubi and Musumba. The humanitarian consequences of this were dramatic and multiform: 5525 people missing, more than 513 bodies buried, more than 2046 houses totally destroyed, more than 562 families mourning, many schools and health centres destroyed, loss of household assets including tables, chairs, and loss of documents of value such as electoral cards. The DRC HO team conducted fieldwork from 29 through 30 June 2023 in the area to know more about the crisis. 
Domestic fires in Bukavu: some challenges in humanitarian assistance
Combatting these quick-spreading fires poses significant challenges, including those related to humanitarian assistance delivery.