The Human Consciousness Now...Our World in the Midst of Becoming...to What? Observe, contemplate Now.
LONDON, Dec 30 2025 (IPS) - Satellite images show corpses piled high in El Fasher, North Darfur, awaiting mass burial or cremation as the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) militia tries to cover up the scale of its crimes. Up to 150,000 El Fasher residents remain missing from the city, seized by the RSF in November. The lowest estimate is that 60,000 are dead. The Arab militia has ethnically cleansed the city of its non-Arab residents. The slaughter is the latest horrific episode in the war between the RSF and the Sudan Armed Forces, sparked by a power battle between military leaders in April 2023.
Both sides have committed atrocities, including executions, extrajudicial killings and sexual violence. It’s hard to gather accurate figures, but at least 150,000 people are estimated to have been killed. Around nine million people have been internally displaced, and close to four million more have fled across the border. Some 25 million now face famine.
Civil society and humanitarian workers are responding as best they can, but they’re in the firing line. They face death, violence, abduction and detention. Emergency orders impose bureaucratic restrictions on civil society organisations and limit aid operations and freedoms of assembly, expression and movement, while troops also block aid delivery.
Reporting on the conflict is difficult and dangerous. Almost all media infrastructure has been destroyed, many newspapers have stopped publishing and both sides are targeting journalists, with many forced into exile. Extensive disinformation campaigns obscure what’s happening on the ground. Mohamed Khamis Douda, spokesperson for the Zamzam displacement camp, exemplified the dangers for those who tell the truth. He stayed on in El Fasher to provide vital updates to international media. When the RSF invaded, they sought him out and killed him.
The world looks away
Sudan is sometimes called a forgotten war, but it’s more accurate to say the world is choosing to ignore it – and this suits several powerful states. The United Arab Emirates (UAE) is the RSF’s biggest backer. It continues to deny this, even though weapons manufactured by the UAE or supplied to it by its allies have been found at sites recovered from RSF control. Without its support, the RSF would likely have lost the war by now.
In recent years, the UAE has worked to cultivate influence among several African states. It has developed a series of ports around Africa, with one planned on Sudan’s stretch of the Red Sea. It has big agricultural investments in Sudan and receives most of the gold mined there. The UAE has evidently concluded that RSF control is the best way of securing its influence and protecting its interests, regardless of the cost in human lives. In response, Sudan’s government has moved to improve links with Russia. It’s been reported it may allow Russia to develop a permanent Red Sea naval base.
The UAE faces little international pressure because western states that are strongly aligned with it, including the UK and USA, downplay its role. The UK government continues to supply the UAE with arms in the knowledge these are being transferred to the RSF, while a whistleblower has accused it of removing warnings about possible genocide in Sudan from a risk assessment analysis to protect the UAE. The European Union and UK reacted to the El Fasher atrocities by placing sanctions on four RSF leaders and the USA is said to be considering further sanctions, but these measures never reach as far as figures in the UAE government.
The UN Security Council, where the UK is the permanent member that leads on Sudan, has also been predictably ineffective. Russia has said it will veto any resolution the UK brings. Yet in June, the UK refused an offer from African states, serving on the Council on a rotating basis, to take over responsibility, something that could have created more space for negotiation.
Among other countries with regional influence, Egypt strongly favours the Sudan government, and Saudi Arabia is somewhat supportive too. They come together with the UAE and USA in a forum called the quad. Despite competing interests, in September there appeared grounds for hope when the quad brokered what was supposed to be a three-month humanitarian truce, followed by a nine-month transition to civilian rule. Both sides accepted the plan, only for the RSF to keep fighting, causing the Sudanese government to reject the proposal.
Pressure and accountability
Whether fighting halts may depend on the USA’s diplomatic whims. Trump has recently appeared to take more interest in the conflict, likely prompted by Saudi Arabia’s ruler Mohammed bin Salman, who visited the White House in November.
Trump may want to claim to have ended another conflict in his evident quest for the Nobel Peace Prize, but it’s hard to see progress unless the US government proves willing to pressure the UAE, including through tariffs, a blunt instrument Trump has used to force deals on other states. The fact the Trump administration currently applies tariffs at its lowest rate, 10 per cent, shows its continuing warmth towards the UAE.
Campaigners are trying to focus more attention on the UAE’s central role in the conflict. One highly visible focus is basketball: the NBA has an extensive and growing sponsorship agreement with the UAE, part of the regime’s efforts to sportswash its international reputation. Civil society campaigners are calling on the NBA to end its partnership, and their advocacy may help move Sudan up the US agenda.
The international community has the power to stop the killing, but first it must acknowledge the role of the UAE and its western allies in enabling it. All involved in the conflict, within and beyond Sudan, must put aside their calculations of narrow self-interest. The UAE, their allies and the other quad states should face greater pressure to broker a genuine ceasefire as a first step towards peace, and use their leverage with the warring parties to ensure they stick to it.
Andrew Firmin is CIVICUS Editor-in-Chief, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report.
For interviews or more information, please contact research@civicus.org
USERRA DAS ALMAS, Brazil, Dec 29 2025 (IPS) - “The work of collecting seeds saved me from depression,” caused by her daughter’s suicide at the age of 29, said Maria do Desterro Soares, 64, who lives in the poor rural community of Jatobá in northeastern Brazil.
She drew her younger sister, Maria de Jesus Soares, 45, who lost her husband in a car accident and also struggles to avoid falling into depression, into the activity. The two walk together for nearly two hours to reach the forests where seeds abound.“The reserve is a great water reservoir. A study we conducted on avoided runoff showed this 6,285-hectare area can retain an astonishing 4.78 billion liters per year” - Gilson Miranda.
They only earn some 1,000 reais (US$185) in a “good year,” but “it’s my work, my pleasure, it’s what I want and I like doing it,” claimed Maria do Desterro, who also makes ice cream and medicines for flu and other illnesses with locally sourced juices, teas, peels, and honey.
She is one of the 121 people trained by the Caatinga Association (AC) through 2023 for the collection and management of seeds from native plants of this biome exclusive to Brazil, as a way to generate income and restore forests.
The association, founded in 1998 to protect the caatinga, the biome of the semi-arid region in the Brazilian northeast, manages the Serra das Almas Natural Reserve (RNSA) and disseminates social technologies for coexistence with the semi-arid ecoregion in surrounding communities.
The caatinga occupies 10% of Brazil’s vast territory and is home to 27 million people. Its vegetation is generally low, with twisted branches and trunks, appearing dead in the dry season and turning green just days after rain. It also features large trees that reach heights of tens of meters.
Maria de Jesus Soares and her older sister, Maria do Desterro Soares, extract seeds from the buriti coconut, a palm tree also known as moriche, found in several parts of Brazil, including its exclusive caatinga biome. Credit: Mario Osava / IPS
Coexistence, instead of fighting against nature
To coexist, rather than fighting droughts, is a guiding principle of the actions that are improving life in Brazil’s poorest region, the Northeast, offering a climate lesson for the country and the world.
This slogan, set in motion by civil society organizations, spurred several social technologies as solutions for water scarcity. Best known is the rainwater harvesting cistern for domestic use, with over 1.2 million units built since 2003.
Cisterns, bio-water (a system that cleans household water for reuse in planting), green septic tanks (a concrete tank with soil, filters, and a banana plant base), solar ovens, and eco-efficient stoves are the five tecghnologies being disseminated.
The AC website reports that 1,481 of these “technologies” have been implemented.
The AC has the RNSA for environmental education and as a source of income through eco-tourism. It works in 40 communities nearby where some 4,000 families live, implementing social technologies and supporting the conservation of the reserve and the entire caatinga.
Headquartered in Fortaleza, the capital of the northeastern state of Ceará, and in Crateús, in the west of that same state near the RNSA, the association stands out from other non-governmental organizations by having this conservation unit of 6,285 hectares of dense forests and four streams.
The green septic tank, also called a biosepitic bed, treats wastewater from toilets with microorganisms that process the waste, leaving the water ready to irrigate crops in the semi-arid region of Northeast Brazil. Credit: Mario Osava / IPS
The caatinga mitigates climate change
“The reserve is an open-air laboratory, where research on fauna, flora, carbon, and water takes place, so we can understand the importance of this area, and of the entire caatinga,” explained Gilson Miranda, a biologist and manager of the RNSA for the Caatinga Association.
In 2015 – 2022, the caatinga was responsible for nearly 40% of the carbon removed from the atmosphere in Brazil, he said, based on a study by São Paulo State University on greenhouse gas capture.
This is because the rapid regreening of the vegetation, an indicator of intense photosynthetic activity when it rains, makes the caatinga a major greenhouse gas sink, different from the Amazon, which is an immense carbon reservoir.
“That is why preserving and conserving the caatinga is strategic in a climate adaptation scenario,” said Miranda in an interview with IPS.
This biome, exclusive to Brazil, covers an area of 844,453 square kilometers.
Water is another wealth of Serra das Almas, which was designated a Private Natural Heritage Reserve (RPPN) in the year 2000.
“The reserve is a great water reservoir. A study we conducted on avoided runoff showed this 6,285-hectare area can retain an astonishing 4.78 billion liters per year,” said Miranda.
Around the springs, there are very tall, green trees that differ from the usual biome. The gameleira (Ficus gomelleira), can reach up to 40 or 50 meters, according to Jair Martins, the tourist guide on hikes along the six trails of Serra das Almas.
This water, retained in the soil by the forests, actually drains slowly. The four springs preserved in the reserve do not dry up, but are unable to sustain year-round the streams that feed the Poti River, whose course passes to the east and north of Serra das Almas.
Nor is this moisture enough to keep the caatinga vegetation green, which is very dry in December, with the green of some shrubs or trees more resistant to water stress.
Maria Clemente da Silva was only able to cultivate her garden when she gained access to bio-water, because the public water supply is limited to three hours a day in Jatobá, a poor community in the Brazilian caatinga. Credit: Mario Osava / IPS
Mitigated drought
In the surroundings of the RNSA, the drought is harsher.
Maria Clemente da Silva, 59, relies on bio-water to supplement the water she uses to irrigate her small garden. The public water supply only operates for two to three hours per day, which is not enough for cultivating vegetables, such as lettuce and onions, or fruit trees like papaya, banana, acerola, orange, and cashew.
About 100 meters behind her house, a forest of tall, very green trees reveals that, with water, the caatinga vegetation gains exuberance. It is the moisture that remained in a low-lying area of a river that practically dried up due to deforestation and fires set to “clear” the land, explained Elisabete de Souza Soares.
Water is the most keenly felt shortage, according to Souza and other women who spoke to IPS and a group of journalism students visiting the Jatobá community, in the municipality of Buriti dos Montes, in the state of Piauí, where the AC’s socio-environmental actions benefit the population and the protection of the RNSA.
All of them received cisterns, the small three-burner ecological stove, and other “technologies” that reduced difficulties in their lives. “Before the cistern, we would fetch water from a public fountain about a kilometer away, carrying cans on our heads,” recalled Souza.
When she was pregnant with her daughter Maria, 11 years ago, she thought about moving away from the community where she had always lived in search of water. “Now I won’t leave here, where I was born,” she said.
The dry vegetation in December, the peak of the annual dry season, displays some resistant shrubs and trees that maintain green patches in the caatinga forests of Brazil’s Northeast region. Credit: Mario Osava / IPS
The Caatinga Association adopted a comprehensive conservation model with broad participation from the local population, including in the economic benefits of work within the RNSA, such as guiding ecotourists and providing other services.
The AC’s approach is always socio-environmental, a main component in protecting the reserve and the caatinga in general, stated Miranda.
Inside the reserve, there is a modest hotel that can accommodate up to 36 people. Local tourism tends to expand due to promotion by the governments of the states of Ceará and Piauí, which share the Serra das Almas Natural Reserve.
The nearby Poti River flows through a 140-kilometer-long canyon and has become a major tourist attraction.
The reserve is a legacy of the US Johnson family, owners of the SC Johnson company, which, because it uses vegetable wax for its furniture cleaning and conservation products, imported carnauba wax, a palm abundant in Ceará, Piauí, and Rio Grande do Norte, another Northeastern state.
In 1998, the leader of the family’s fourth generation, Samuel Johnson, repeated an expedition to Ceará that his father had made in 1935 and decided to establish a Caatinga Conservation Fund, using part of his fortune. This led to the RNSA and the Caatinga Association, composed of environmental specialists in the biome.
Dec 29 2025 (IPS) -
CIVICUS discusses environmental accountability in Zambia with Christian-Geraud Neema, Africa editor at the China Global South Project, an independent journalism initiative that covers and follows China’s activities in global south countries.
Christian-Geraud Neema
What’s this lawsuit about, and why are farmers seeking US$80 billion?
The farmers are suing Sino-Metals Leach Zambia, a subsidiary of the Chinese state-owned China Nonferrous Metal Mining Group, because on 18 February, the company’s tailings dam collapsed, releasing an estimated 50 million litres of acidic, toxic wastewater and up to 1.5 million tonnes of waste material into the Kafue River. This led to water pollution affecting communities in Chambishi and Kitwe, far beyond the immediate mining area.
The lawsuit reflects real harm and frustration. From the farmers’ perspective, the company is clearly responsible. Their livelihoods have been destroyed, their land contaminated and their future made uncertain. In that context, seeking accountability through the courts is a rational response.
That said, the US$80 billion figure is likely exaggerated. It shows the absence of credible damage assessments rather than a precise calculation. When no one provides clear data on losses, communities respond by anchoring their claims in worst-case scenarios.
This case also highlights a broader accountability gap. Mining companies should be held responsible, but governments must also be questioned. These projects are approved, inspected and regulated by state authorities. If a dam was unsafe, why was it authorised? Why was oversight insufficient?
It should be noted that Zambia’s legal framework allows communities to bring such cases domestically, which is a significant step forward compared to earlier cases where affected communities had to sue foreign companies in courts abroad.
What caused the toxic spill?
There is no single, uncontested explanation. There were clear structural weaknesses in the tailings dam. Reports from civil society and media suggest the dam was not built to the required standards under Zambian regulations. But the company argues the dam complied with existing standards and that it was encroachment by surrounding communities that weakened the structure over time.
These two narratives are not mutually exclusive. Even if community interactions with the site occurred, the primary responsibility still lies with the company. Mining operations take place in complex social environments, and companies are expected to anticipate these realities and design infrastructure that is robust enough to withstand them. Ultimately, this incident reflects governance and regulatory failures. It was not an isolated accident.
What were the consequences of the spill?
The impacts have been severe and multidimensional. The spill polluted large sections of the Kafue River, reportedly extending over 100 kilometres. It killed large numbers of fish, contaminated riverbeds and disrupted ecosystems. Agriculturally, farmers using river water for irrigation saw their crops destroyed or rendered unsafe. Livestock and soil quality were also affected. Acidic and toxic substances entered water sources used daily for cooking, drinking and washing, and communities were exposed to serious health risks.
What makes the situation particularly troubling is the lack of reliable and independent data. There has been no transparent and comprehensive assessment released by the government, the company or an independent body. This absence has left communities uncertain about long-term environmental damage and health effects, and fuelled emotionally charged debates instead of evidence-based responses.
Was the disaster preventable?
Absolutely. At a technical level, stronger infrastructure, better-quality materials and stricter adherence to safety standards could have significantly reduced the risk. At an operational level, companies know mining sites are rarely isolated, and community proximity, informal access and social dynamics must be factored in when designing and securing tailings dams.
But prevention also depends heavily on governance. Mining companies are profit-driven entities, and in weak governance environments, the temptation to cut costs is high. This is not unique to Chinese firms. The main difference in how companies operate is not their origin but their context: the same companies often operate very differently in countries with weak or strong regulatory oversight. Where rules are enforced, behaviour improves; where oversight is weak, shortcuts become the norm.
The key issue here is enforcement. Zambia has good environmental laws and standards on paper. The problem is their implementation.
Could this case set a precedent?
This case has the potential to strengthen existing accountability mechanisms rather than create a new precedent. Zambia has seen similar cases before, including lawsuits involving western mining companies. What is different now is the increased legal space for communities to act locally.
If successful, the case could reinforce civil society advocacy for responsible mining, greater transparency and stronger enforcement of environmental regulations. It could also raise awareness among communities living near mining sites about their rights and the risks they face.
GET IN TOUCH
Website
Facebook
TikTok
Twitter
YouTube
Christian-Geraud Neema/LinkedIn
SEE ALSO
South Africa: ‘Environmental rights are enforceable and communities have the right to be consulted and taken seriously’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with The Green Connection 12.Dec.2025
DRC: ‘International demand for coltan is linked to violence in the DRC’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Claude Iguma 09.Jul.2025
Ghana: ‘We demand an immediate ban on illegal mining and strict enforcement of environmental laws’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Jeremiah Sam 29.Oct.2024
MONTEVIDEO, Uruguay, Dec 27 2025 (IPS) - Hours before world leaders gathered in Johannesburg for the 2025 G20 summit in November, hundreds of South African women wearing black lay down in a city park for 15 minutes — one for each woman who loses her life every day to gender-based violence in the country. The striking visual protest was organised by a civil society organisation, Women for Change, which also gathered over a million signatures demanding the government declare gender-based violence (GBV) a national disaster. Hours later, the government acquiesced.
It was a vital victory in a year marked by brutal violence and political backlash. As the dust settles on the 16 Days of Activism against Gender-Based Violence campaign – an annual event that starts on 25 November, International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women, and ends on 10 December, Human Rights Day – the achievement in South Africa stands in contrast to a global landscape of regression.
The numbers that motivated this year’s mobilisations tell a grim story. In 2024, around 4,000 women were victims of femicides in Latin America alone, amounting to nearly 11 gender-related killings a day. Africa has the world’s highest rate at three femicides per 100,000 women, with South Africa’s numbers off the charts.
Throughout 2025, women took to the streets in response to sustained patterns of violence and femicide cases that shocked society. In Argentina, protests erupted in September following the live-streamed torture and killing of three young women by a drug-trafficking gang. In Brazil, tens of thousands mobilised in December after a woman was run over by her ex-boyfriend and dragged across concrete for a kilometre, resulting in the loss of her legs. In Italy, nationwide protests followed the murders of two 22-year-old students in April and the killing of a 14-year-old girl by an older boy whose advances she rejected in May.
These highly visible cases were the tip of the iceberg. Yet they galvanised mobilisations because of decades of civil society groundwork: naming femicide as a distinct phenomenon, fighting for legal recognition and creating the databases many governments still refuse to maintain. This deliberate work of counting the dead has transformed individual tragedies into evidence of systematic violence, making it impossible for states to dismiss each killing as an isolated incident.
This sustained pressure forced some governments to act. In 2025, Spain became a European Union (EU) pioneer in criminalising vicarious violence — violence perpetrated against women through intermediaries, typically children or family members. Its new law, passed in September, followed Mexico’s 2023 recognition of this form of abuse. On 25 November, coinciding with International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women, Italy’s parliament passed a law making femicide a distinct criminal offence punishable by life imprisonment. The achievement is all the more significant given that, until 1981, the Italian penal code still offered leniency for so-called ‘honour killings’.
But progress is fragile. Right-wing governments that frame anti-GBV measures as ideological are moving to dismantle decades of feminist victories. In Argentina, the right-wing government of President Javier Milei has eliminated the Ministry of Women, Genders and Diversity and announced plans to dismantle comprehensive sexuality education and repeal gender parity in electoral lists, among other regressive changes.
In Turkey, which abandoned the Istanbul Convention – the Council of Europe Convention on preventing and combating violence against women and domestic violence – in 2021, thousands of women defied sweeping protest bans to demand justice over the suspicious death of a 21-year-old university student in October. According to the We Will Stop Femicide Platform, at least 235 women were killed by men between January and October, with an additional 247 women found dead in suspicious circumstances. Yet the right-wing nationalist government declared 2025 to be the ‘Year of the Family’, criticised by activists for reinforcing traditional roles instead of addressing women’s safety.
And in Latvia, parliament voted to withdraw from the Istanbul Convention, barely a year after ratifying it. Right-wing parties argued it promoted ‘gender theories’ under the guise of combating violence, and proceeded despite a petition against it that gathered over 60,000 signatures. The president sent the bill back to parliament for review, but if it passes, Latvia will be the first EU member state to quit the convention.
The 16 Days campaign highlights a fundamental truth: violence against women is not just a social problem but a violation of human rights. Its endpoint on Human Rights Day, established to commemorate the adoption of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, asserts that women’s rights are human rights and emphasises the demand that states fulfil their obligations under international law to prevent, investigate and punish GBV.
South Africa’s declaration proves that sustained collective action can force change. Women’s rights activists successfully leveraged the international spotlight of the G20 summit, staging a nationwide shutdown that saw thousands withdraw from paid and unpaid labour, refrain from spending money and lie in silent protest at noon. They forced the crisis onto the global agenda at a moment of unprecedented international attention.
Meeting even the most basic demands — the ability to walk home without fear, leave abusive partners, participate in politics without risking sexual violence, exist online without harassment — requires structural transformation. Women will only find safety when societies cease to view them as objects to possess and control, when those seeking to escape abuse have a path to economic independence, when judicial systems treat violence against women with the seriousness it deserves and when technology companies are held accountable for platforms that enable harassment.
The year revealed more regression than progress. Yet amid growing repression and dwindling resources, women’s movements persisted in documenting violence, supporting survivors, educating the public and advocating for systemic change. Their persistence reflects a clear understanding that real change demands sustained action. States have human rights obligations to protect women’s lives, and women’s movements will continue to insist these obligations are met with the seriousness and resources they require, one protest at a time.
Inés M. Pousadela is CIVICUS Head of Research and Analysis, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report. She is also a Professor of Comparative Politics at Universidad ORT Uruguay.
For interviews or more information, please contact research@civicus.org
Dec 26 2025 (IPS) -
CIVICUS discusses Generation Z-led protests in Bulgaria with Zahari Iankov, senior legal expert at the Bulgarian Centre for Not-for-Profit Law, a civil society organisation that advocates for participation and human rights.
Zahari Iankov
What sparked recent protests?
Bulgaria has been in a prolonged political crisis since 2020, when mass protests first erupted against corruption and state capture. Although they didn’t immediately lead to a resignation, these protests marked the beginning of a cycle of repeated elections and unstable governments. Since 2021, Bulgaria has held several parliamentary elections, and no political settlement has lasted.
The latest protests, which erupted on 1 December, have probably been the largest since the early 1990s, during Bulgaria’s transition from communism to democracy. They were initially sparked by a controversial 2026 budget that raised taxes to fund public sector wages, but while economic concerns played a role, the protests were primarily centres on values. People reacted to the fact that democratic rules were being openly disregarded and governance was increasingly being shaped by informal powers and personal interests.
Several incidents reinforced the perception that institutions were being systematically undermined. One symbolic moment was the treatment of student representatives during parliamentary debates about education, including proposals for mandatory religious education. Members of parliament publicly shamed student council representatives, which many people saw as emblematic of a broader contempt for citizen participation and government accountability.
Other cases reinforced this perception: environmental laws were weakened without debate, key oversight bodies were left inactive for over a year and proposals that threatened freedom of expression were introduced, and only withdrawn following public backlash. Together, these incidents created a sense that institutions were being hollowed out.
The budget acted as a trigger, but public anger had been building for months. Throughout the government’s short mandate, there was a clear pattern of sidelining public participation and bypassing parliamentary procedures. Laws were rushed through committees in seconds, major reforms were proposed without consultation and controversial decisions were taken at moments designed to avoid opposition.
What made these protests different from previous ones?
One striking difference was the speed and scale of the mobilisation. What began as a protest linked to budget concerns quickly turned into huge demonstrations involving tens of thousands of people. Estimates suggest that between 100,000 and 150,000 people gathered in Sofia, the capital, during the largest protest. For such a small country, this was impressive. Also unlike previous mobilisations, these protests spread well beyond Sofia to many cities across the country, something unusual for Bulgaria’s highly centralised political system.
Another important difference was the strong presence of young people, which led to the protests being described as Gen Z protests. While young people also played a role in big protest movements in 2013 and 2020, this time the generational identity was much more visible and explicitly embraced. Young people were central as communicators as well as participants. Social media campaigns, humour and memes played a significant role in spreading information and mobilising support.
Additionally, these protests were not driven by a single political party. Although one party provided logistical support in Sofia, the extent of participation and the geographic spread made clear this was a broad social mobilisation, not a partisan campaign.
What role did organised civil society groups play in sustaining the protests?
There were a couple of civil society groups that were involved in the organisation of protests, but organised civil society’s main role was not in mobilising but in providing crucial long-term support. For years, civil society groups and investigative journalists have documented corruption, challenged harmful laws and mobilised public awareness around environmental and rule-of-law issues.
As traditional media came under increasing control, civil society helped fill the gap by exposing abuses and explaining complex issues in accessible ways. This helped counter the narrative that ‘nothing ever changes’ and empowered people to believe protest could make a difference.
At the same time, attempts by politicians to discredit or intimidate civil society organisations, including proposals resembling laws to stigmatise civil society as foreign agent, underscored how influential civil society has become.
Who are the figures at the centre of public anger, and what do they represent?
The two key figures are Boyko Borissov and Delyan Peevski, who represent two different but deeply entrenched forms of political power. A former mayor of Sofia and prime minister who has dominated Bulgarian politics for over a decade, Borissov retains a loyal voter base despite major scandals, and has repeatedly returned to power through elections. He built his image on strongman rhetoric and visible policing actions.
Peevski is a different figure. Sanctioned under the Magnitsky Act — a US law targeting people involved in corruption and human rights abuses — he has never enjoyed broad public support but wields enormous informal influence. Despite leading a political party, he operates largely behind the scenes. Over the years, he has been linked to deep penetration of the judiciary, influence over regulatory bodies and media control. His role in governance has become increasingly visible despite his party not formally being part of the ruling coalition.
Together, these two figures embody what protesters see as the fundamental problem: a ‘mafia-style’ system of governance, where access, decision-making and protection depend on proximity to powerful individuals rather than transparent institutional processes.
Does the government’s resignation address the underlying problems?
This was a political response, but it does not resolve the structural issues that triggered the protests. Bulgaria’s institutions remain weak, key oversight bodies continue operating with expired mandates and the judiciary continues to face serious credibility problems.
What happens next will depend largely on voter participation and political renewal. Turnout in recent elections has fallen below 40 per cent, undermining any legitimacy claims and making vote-buying and clientelism easier. Mass turnout would significantly reduce the influence of these practices and could be our only hope for real change.
However, lasting change will require action to restore institutional independence, reform the judiciary and ensure regulatory bodies function properly. Otherwise, any new government risks being undermined by the same informal power structures that brought people out onto the streets.
GET IN TOUCH
Website
Facebook
Instagram
LinkedIn
Zahari Iankov/LinkedIn
SEE ALSO
Anti-euro protests continue; arrest of Varna mayor sparks protests CIVICUS Monitor 28.Jul.2025
Unprecedented protests in Bulgaria’s public media CIVICUS Monitor 27.May.2025
Bulgaria: stuck in a loop? CIVICUS Lens 24.Oct.2022
BELÉM, Brazil, Dec 24 2025 (IPS) - Izete dos Santos Costa, also known as Dona Nena among locals in Combu Island, welcomed hundreds of people from around the world during the recent climate conference in Belém.
Her team showcased local crafts and chocolate-making processes in the land of the Amazon rainforest—far from the deafening air conditioner sounds at the Parque da Cidade, where the COP30 negotiations were ongoing.
Yet her story’s ultimate happy ending is dependent on the outcomes of climate negotiations, as Amazonia is on the frontlines of climate change.
Delegates and participants delighted at the chocolate-making process and relished tasting chocolate treats made from cocoa from the forest.
Cocoa fruit at the backyard of Dona Nena’s factory; once it turns yellow they harvest it and use its beans to make chocolate. Credit: Tanka Dhakal/IPS
Harvested cocoa fruit and its beans on display with other fruits collected from Amazonia. Credit: Tanka Dhakal/IPS
A visitor exploring Dona Nena’s gift shop, where visitors can buy chocolates and locally made souvenirs. Credit: Annabel Prokopy/IPS
For nearly 20 years, Dona Nena has been making a living by promoting local tourism and chocolate made from cocoa grown in the forest near her house.
“Twenty years ago, there was no tourism in this area. There was basically one single restaurant,” Dona Nena said while smiling and waving to visitors at her chocolate factory, Filha do Combu, also known as Dona Nena’s Chocolate House [located about an hour away from the COP venue].
In the scorching heat and humidity, visitors are introduced to the process of harvesting cocoa beans and other Amazonian fruits and how these are transformed into organic chocolate.
Her product became famous when renowned Belém chef Thiago Castanho liked the chocolate so much he helped promote it within the top Brazilian culinary circles.
“At that time, he didn’t teach me how to refine the chocolate, but he did use it as a flagship in his restaurant for everyone,” she said.
Blending Organic Chocolate Factory Into Immersive Experience
For a few years her team produced the chocolate and collaborated with chef Castanho for marketing. People noticed and loved it.
“The friends of the chef started to come here. They were interested in finding out about the process,” she said. “I started to receive them at my house; that’s how the tourism side of the chocolate factory started in 2012.”
After initial interest from the chef and their friends, other people started coming. Then Dona Nena built a family-owned chocolate factory into an immersive tourism hub, letting visitors know where cocoa comes from and how the process works, and, at the end, letting them taste chocolate.
Cocoa beans in the process of fermentation; after this, they will be roasted to make chocolate. Credit: Tanka Dhakal/IPS
Tour guide Juliana Cruz shares chocolates with visitors for tasting. Credit: Tanka Dhakal/IPS
Chocolate made from cocoa beans at Dona Nena’s factory. Credit: Tanka Dhakal/IPS
Cocoa trees at the backyard of Dona Nena’s factory, which is within Amazonia. Credit: Tanka Dhakal/IPS
“I am proud to have brought many tourists and inspired other restaurants to settle on the island,” she added. “It is helping local communities to grow and develop.”
Twenty people work at the factory and as tour guides; the majority of them are women. One of them is Juliana Cruz, a tour guide. She takes a group of visitors into the forest, where she shows the traditional way of harvesting cacao beans and explains fermentation, bean drying, and the chocolate-making process.
Dona Nena’s chocolate factory grew as a center of attraction for people who want to have an on-the-ground experience of the Amazon rainforest and its sweet sides.
Chocolate’s ‘Dark Side’
For the last 20 years, Dona Nena’s life has revolved around cocoa and chocolate. Cocoa trees, native to the Amazon for 7,000 years, are always central to her success.
But just in two decades of working with it, Dona Nena is seeing changes.
“I am noticing declining yields of cocoa, and fruits are becoming smaller,” she said. “It’s not only cocoa; other fruits here, in general, are all decreasing.”
Confirming her observations, research shows that climate change could reduce the production of cocoa. It is sensitive to a dry climate, and it may impact yield. Research published in 2022 says it is possible that by 2050, a loss in a suitable environment for cocoa plants in the Brazilian Amazon is likely if precipitation decreases and temperature increases because of climate change.
But Dona Nena is concerned about the future of cocoa trees. “I am seeing fewer species around,” she said.
This feature is published with the support of Open Society Foundations.
IPS UN Bureau Report
Excerpt:
For Dona Nena, a chocolatier who is central to culinary tourism in Belém, the success of her operations is dependent on the cocoa trees grown organically in Amazonia. But, she says, they are already bearing smaller fruit.
NEW YORK, Dec 24 2025 (IPS) - 2025 has been a terrible year for democracy. Just over 7 per cent of the world’s population now live in places where the rights to organise, protest and speak out are generally respected, according to the CIVICUS Monitor, a civil society research partnership that measures civic freedoms around the world. This is a sharp drop from over 14 per cent this time last year.
Civic freedoms underpin healthy democracies, and the consequences of this stifling of civil society are apparent. At the end of the first quarter of the 21st century, the world is experiencing 19th century levels of economic inequality. The wealth of the richest 1 per cent is surging while some 8 per cent of the world’s population – over 670 million people – suffer from chronic hunger. Weapons-producing firms, closely intertwined with political elites, are reaping windfall profits as death and destruction rains down in Gaza, Myanmar, Sudan, Ukraine and many other places. It should surprise no one that the political leaders fomenting these conflicts are also squashing civic freedoms to avert questions about their motivations.
From Lima to Los Angeles, Belgrade to Dar es Salaam and Jenin to Jakarta, far too many people are being denied the agency to shape the decisions that impact their lives. Yet these places have also been the site of significant protests against governments this year. Even as authoritarianism appears to be on the march, people are continuing to pour onto the streets to insist on their freedoms. As we speak people in Sofia in Bulgaria are demonstrating in large numbers against endemic corruption which recently forced the government to resign.
History shows that mass demonstrations can lead to major advances. In the 20th century, people’s mobilisations helped achieve women’s right to vote, liberation of colonised peoples and adoption of civil rights legislation to address race-based discrimination. In the 21st century, advances have been made in marriage equality and other LGBTQI+ rights, and in highlighting the climate crisis and economic inequality through protests. But in 2025, the right to protest, precisely because it can be effective, is under assault by authoritarian leaders. Around the world, the detention of protesters is the number one recorded violation of civic freedoms, closely followed by arbitrary detentions of journalists and human rights defenders who expose corruption and rights violations.
This backsliding is now happening in major established democracies. This year, the CIVICUS Monitor downgraded Argentina, France, Germany, Italy and the USA to an ‘obstructed’ civic space rating, meaning the authorities impose significant constraints on the full enjoyment of fundamental rights. This regression is being driven by anti-rights nationalist and populist forces determined to degrade constitutional checks and balances and advance ballot box majoritarianism that denies minorities a fair say in economic, political and social life.
The push to degrade democracy by anti-rights forces now coming to fruition has been many years in the making. It accelerated this year with the return of Donald Trump. His administration immediately withdrew support to international democracy support programmes and instead built links to politicians responsible for crushing civic freedoms and committing grotesque human rights violations. Trump has laid out of the red carpet to El-Salvador’s Nayib Bukele, Hungary’s Victor Orbán, Israel’s Benjamin Netanyahu, Russia’s Vladimir Putin and Saudi Arabia’s Mohammed bin Salman, ushering in a new era of values-free might-is-right diplomacy that threatens to undermine decades of painstaking progress achieved by civil society.
The fallout is clear. Many wealthy democratic governments that traditionally fund civil society activities have significantly reduced their contributions. At the same time, they have linked their remaining support for civil society to narrowly defined strategic military and economic interests. In doing so, they have played directly into the hands of powerful authoritarian states such as China, Egypt, Iran, Nicaragua and Venezuela that seek to discredit domestic calls for accountability. Countries including Ecuador and Zimbabwe have introduced laws to limit the ability of civil society organisations to receive international funding.
All these developments are negatively impacting on civil society efforts for equality, peace and social justice. Yet the story of 2025 is also one of persistent resistance, and some successes. The courage demonstrated by Generation Z protesters has inspired people around the world. In Nepal, protests triggered by a social media ban led to the fall of the government, offering hope for a much-needed political reset. In Kenya, young protesters continued to take to the streets to demand political reform despite state violence. In Moldova, a cash-rich disinformation campaign run by a fugitive oligarch failed to sway the course of the national election away from human rights values. In the USA, the number of people joining the No-Kings protests just keeps on growing.
With over 90 per cent of the world’s population living with the institutional denial of full civic freedoms, anti-rights forces must be feeling pretty smug right now. But democratic dissent is brewing, particularly among Generation Z, denied political and economic opportunities but understanding that another world – one more equal, just, peaceful and environmentally sustainable – is possible. It’s far from game over yet, and even in difficult times, people will demand freedoms – and breakthroughs may be just around the corner.
Mandeep S Tiwana is Secretary General of CIVICUS, the global civil society alliance.