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The first man to run a marathon in under two hours in a competitive race received a hero's welcome from supporters and family when he arrived home.

Thursday 30 April

Source : © European Union, 2026 - EP

By CIVICUS
Apr 30 2026 (IPS)

 
CIVICUS discusses Bulgaria’s Gen Z-led protests with Aleksandar Tanev, founder of Students Against the Mafia, an informal student organisation that took part in mass protests against corruption and state capture.

Aleksandar Tanev

Bulgaria has been gripped by political instability, holding eight general elections in five years, with the latest held on 19 April. In late 2024, the government proposed a budget featuring tax increases and no institutional reforms, triggering the largest street protests since the 1990s. What began as opposition to the budget quickly became a broader movement against the corrupt governance model that has dominated Bulgarian politics for over a decade.

What brought you to activism and these protests?

I am a Russian-Bulgarian citizen, because my father is Bulgarian and my mother is Russian. I lived in Bulgaria until I was about five years old and then moved to Russia, where I lived until a few years ago. From around the age of 12 I became interested in politics and started asking questions. I took part in my first protest in Russia at age 17 and participated in campaigns for independent parliamentary candidates. When Russia invaded Ukraine in February 2022, my life changed drastically. On the first day I took part in a protest that turned out to be my last. I immediately started receiving threats, and on the same day I received a draft notice from the military registration office. I decided to leave.

Bulgaria was one of the first countries to suspend flights from Russia. But my brother, who was doing an internship at the Bulgarian Ministry of Foreign Affairs, told me a humanitarian flight was being organised to evacuate Bulgarian citizens. I managed to sign up and flew to Sofia. I started a new life in Bulgaria, remembering the language and meeting new people.

When I arrived, I found so many people had been exposed to Russian propaganda. I had to explain over and over what the real situation in Russia was. For two and a half years I worked at the Bulgarian Red Cross helping Ukrainian refugees. I enrolled at Sofia University and gradually reintegrated into my home country.

When the protests broke out, I was in Germany and saw the photos and videos of young people taking to the streets. I thought the time had finally come to do something. What triggered the protests was a government budget that included tax increases but no institutional reforms. People may struggle to understand complex political issues, but when the government takes money from them, they understand. Very quickly, the protest went beyond the trigger issue and turned into a protest not just against the government, but against a whole system of corrupt governance and state capture.

At that moment, I realised students were the driving force, and started an informal group called Students Against the Mafia. We told major media about it and began preparing our first action. We attached a three-by-four metre banner reading ‘Students Against the Mafia’ to the balcony of Sofia University’s rector’s office while an international conference was being held inside. We held a student march and joined the big protest.

What’s the current level of trust in institutions?

Bulgarians, including young people, are very disappointed by the actions of those in power. Bulgaria is a parliamentary democracy and people had a lot of expectations when it joined the European Union (EU) but have since become increasingly disappointed. Trust in state institutions is overall very low, and so is trust in civil society organisations and other parts of society. This is dangerous, because it may mean a loss of trust in democracy.

People don’t really understand the difference between government and civil society. They think NGOs are organisations created by the government to control society or financed by foreign states to lobby for their own interests. There is very little critical thinking. People don’t fact-check information and instead absorb propaganda and dangerous narratives.

My personal goal is to try to bring back trust in civil society, showing that civil society groups are instruments of people power. That’s why we show our faces, our goals and our actions.

Who took part in the protests?

Very different parts of Bulgarian society protested, and with very different ideas. There were pro-European people, Eurosceptics and people who had never been interested in politics before. What united them was that they were tired of the injustice of a system in which you can’t change anything for the better because power is captured by a small elite.

Politics is a revolving door: Boyko Borissov, the prime minister at the time, was prime minister three times, and his party was in power for over a decade. Delyan Peevski, leader of the Movement for Rights and Freedoms, was sanctioned under the US Magnitsky Act for corruption in a controversial scandal, representing a merger between political power, media influence, institutional dependence and impunity. The same group of politicians captured the government, parliament and the most important institution, the courts. This meant that change wasn’t going to come from institutions.

While protesters had many different complaints and demands, they all shared the hope for normal governance and the feeling that this couldn’t go on.

How were protests organised, and what role did social media play?

The first big protest was half organised, half spontaneous: the call came from a political party, but it echoed well beyond party supporters, so the turnout was much bigger than anybody expected. It was a broad national protest.

The organiser was the pro-European, anti-corruption coalition We Continue the Change – Democratic Bulgaria. After the party made the announcement, people started sharing it on social media and in personal conversations, and soon there was this protest energy in the air. Everyone was talking about it.

In between protests, people waited for the signal from this political party to come back out. We didn’t think to organise our own protests. Instead, we prepared actions and performances to stage at the next protests the party organised. And each time, more and more people came, because those who had previously protested shared the call within their own small networks.

Social media helped us enormously, because traditional media in Bulgaria is captured too. Corrupt politicians have a strong influence over traditional television channels but they don’t control social media. So Facebook, Instagram and other platforms filled the space of independent media. On social media, we can share and talk freely. To Gen Z protesters, the protests became an extension of this space: they came to the protests to speak their minds.

One problem was that during the protests, the internet was very slow. We thought the authorities caused this deliberately, but it’s also possible mobile operators simply couldn’t handle so many people in one place. Either way, social media was key to the success of the protests.

Do you agree with the label that these were Gen Z protests?

I do. In fact, to one of the protests we brought a five-metre banner that read ‘Gen Z is coming’. It was shown by the Daily Mail, Reuters and other international media.

While I think the label is correct, we shouldn’t interpret it literally. Many different age groups took part in the protests. What made them Gen Z protests was the participation of so many young people who gave them a face of hope. But it was only because all Bulgarian society joined in that we succeeded in bringing down the government.

What risks did protesters face?

Honestly, compared to Russia, the risk wasn’t very high. But that doesn’t mean everything was okay. For instance, some students faced pressure from their universities not to go to protests. Students who helped me spread the word about Students Against the Mafia at their university got warnings from the administration not to do it again. That’s not acceptable. Students have the right to express their opinions freely, including through protest.

Provocateurs showed up towards the end of each protest. They covered their faces and brought some kind of explosives, and police started beating protesters. Because of this, most regular people left after a couple of hours. We think these provocateurs may have been sent by the parties in power to discredit protests.

Some people were unnecessarily scared. I protested very actively and nothing happened to me, though I should be honest that when you become visible, that gives you a degree of protection, and this may not be true of everyone.

What did the protests achieve, and what comes next?

The government fell. That’s a big achievement. And Bulgarian society woke up. A lot of people who previously thought politics was something dirty, something separate from their personal lives, understood they had a responsibility.

But there’s still a long way to go. All this protest energy needs to be transformed into electoral energy. Power is built not only in the streets but also within institutions. If we don’t turn this energy into votes, all the effort will have been useless. Voter turnout in the last election prior to the protests was under 40 per cent. This is not representative democracy; it is a disaster. We cannot expect change to happen when only 40 per cent of voters actually turn out.

Diaspora voting rights are also under threat. The opposition Revival party proposed limiting polling stations outside the EU to just 20 locations, far too few for the large Bulgarian communities in the UK, the USA and elsewhere. The proposal was backed by most governing parties; only Peevski opposed it. Revival’s stated aim was to limit votes from Turkey, which tend to go to Peevski’s party. But the measure would hit all diaspora communities: over 60,000 voter applications were submitted for the 19 April election, over twice the figure from the previous election. Unlike voters in Turkey, who can travel to Bulgaria to vote in person, those in the UK and USA cannot. This was a deliberate attempt to suppress the votes of people who have left and who tend to vote for change.

Following the main protests, we also started organising actions against the chief prosecutor, Borislav Sarafov, the one who ultimately decides whether a corruption case will be investigated. According to Bulgarian law, a temporary chief prosecutor can only hold the post for up to six months. But now they say that this law doesn’t apply to him because he was already in the role when the law was passed. So this temporary prosecutor can now potentially stay in this position for life. We have held four or five protests against him, but so far we have not succeeded.

What keeps me going is the desire to live in a fair society where the state is at the service of the people, and not the other way around. But in a democracy, you have to change things yourself. You can’t wait for someone to do it for you. Living in Russia, I understood that if you don’t fight for justice and truth, there is always a danger that power will take over everything. There’s this phrase I keep coming back to: if you are not interested in politics, politics will start to take an interest in you. That’s my motivation.

CIVICUS interviews a wide range of civil society activists, experts and leaders to gather diverse perspectives on civil society action and current issues for publication on its CIVICUS Lens platform. The views expressed in interviews are the interviewees’ and do not necessarily reflect those of CIVICUS. Publication does not imply endorsement of interviewees or the organisations they represent.

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SEE ALSO
Gen Z protests: new resistance rises CIVICUS | State of Civil Society Report 2026
‘People reacted to a system of governance shaped by informal powers and personal interests’ CIVICUS | Interview with Zahari Iankov 18.Dec.2025
Bulgaria: stuck in a loop? CIVICUS Lens 24.Oct.2022

 

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By Yohana Coñuecar Llancapani
LLANCHID ISLAND, Hualaihué, Chile, Apr 30 2026 (IPS)

Coming from an island in southern Chile, where the sea is not an industry—but it is daily life, work, food and memory. Growing up in a family that is part of an artisanal fishers’ cooperative. Learning from a young age how to cultivate oysters, work with mussels, and understand the rhythms of the sea.

Yohana Coñuecar Llancapani

My story, like that of many women in my territory, is deeply connected to small-scale aquaculture and to knowledge passed down from generation to generation.

It is this same knowledge that we brought from Chile to Barcelona, to the Global Seafood Marketplace. As a Chilean delegation made up of Indigenous leaders and small-scale fishers, we were not just attending a trade fair—we were opening a conversation that has too often been left out of these spaces.

The Seafood Expo Global has established itself as one of the main platforms where the future of the global fishing industry is shaped. It is a space where standards, innovation, efficiency and markets are discussed. Yet one dimension continues to remain secondary: the role of Indigenous peoples who sustain marine ecosystems and inhabit the very spaces where the industry operates.

From Chile, our participation seeks to contribute to this debate from a strategic perspective. It is not about confronting the industry, but about demonstrating that its long-term sustainability depends on integrating other forms of knowledge and governance.

The industry has made progress in sustainability criteria, but often from a technical standpoint. What is still missing is the recognition that the spaces where it operates are not merely production zones, but inhabited territories. The knowledge developed by coastal communities is not just tradition—it is a living system of management.

In Chile, the Indigenous Coastal Marine Spaces (ECMPOs) have shown that it is possible to articulate conservation, productive use and territorial governance. However, the amendments currently under discussion to the Lafkenche Law send a worrying signal: instead of strengthening an instrument that has contributed to sustainability and territorial governance, there is a risk of weakening it in response to short-term production pressures.

This is not just a regulatory debate. It has direct implications for the stability of the industry. That is why we seek to bring this conversation to a global stage. And the space we are bringing to the Global Seafood Marketplace in Barcelona is not a traditional stand—it is an invitation to pause, to sit down and to engage in dialogue.

We want decision-makers in the industry to listen to these experiences. To understand that behind every product there are territories, people and ways of life. That their decisions have real impacts.

But we also want to show that there is an opportunity here.

Integrating Indigenous traditional knowledge is not only a matter of justice—it is a strategy for the sector’s real sustainability. It helps ensure continuity, traceability and quality over time. It is also a smart economic decision.

The ocean is not infinite. And we need new ways of relating to it.

From our territories, this is already happening. The question is: is the global industry willing to listen?

Yohana Coñuecar Llancapani is Mapuche Williche leader from Llanchid Island, Hualaihué, Chile

IPS UN Bureau

 

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BBC reports from Kenya, home to Sabastian Sawe, the first man to run a marathon in under two hours.

Over recent decades, agricultural commodities have been transformed from goods into financial assets. Markets anticipate future disruptions and push prices up faster than underlying conditions would justify. Credit: Bigstock

By Mihaela Siritanu
LONDON, Apr 29 2026 (IPS)

As the United States and Israel’s 2026 attack on Iran remains on pause, most eyes have fixed on oil. Tankers reroute around the Strait of Hormuz, oil benchmarks climb, and insurance costs spike. But while the headlines focus on energy, warning signs are already flashing from the food commodities markets.

Middle East tensions continue to escalate, but global wheat and maize supplies remain relatively well stocked and production has not been significantly disrupted. Yet UK wheat futures have risen to almost £183 per tonne — their highest level since mid-November — after rising more than £2.60 in a single week. At the same time, fertiliser prices — a key input for future harvests — have doubled since the start of the year, even though the main impacts on crop production have yet to materialise.

These are early warning signs — not of a harvest failure, but of how today’s food system responds to crisis. Food prices are beginning to rise, with the FAO Food Price Index steadily increasing in February and March 2026, even though crops have not yet failed, harvests have not collapsed, and global production remains broadly stable. The crisis is unfolding in real time, before any physical shortage has fully materialised.

Of course, real factors matter — but they operate very differently. When oil prices rise, they feed into food production through higher fertiliser costs, more expensive transport, and increased energy use on farms.

But these are gradual pressures: they work their way through the system over months, as farmers purchase inputs, plant crops, and bring harvests to market. Prices linked to these costs would normally rise slowly, in step with actual changes in production.

Instead, prices are moving immediately, driven less by current shortages than by expectations of what might happen. Markets anticipate future disruptions and push prices up faster than underlying conditions would justify. In this system, financial markets are no longer simply reflecting reality — they are actively reshaping it.

Over recent decades, agricultural commodities have been transformed from goods into financial assets. Wheat, maize, and rice are now traded not only by farmers and merchants, but by hedge funds, investment banks, and institutional investors seeking returns.

In wealthier countries, higher food prices squeeze household budgets. In much of the Global South, where food accounts for a larger share of income, the same increases can push families into hunger. Import-dependent countries must pay prices set on global markets even when local supply conditions remain stable

Financial instruments such as commodity index funds channel large volumes of capital into these markets, often detached from real supply and demand. Large trading firms straddle both physical and financial markets, allowing them to profit from volatility, rather than mitigate it.

When geopolitical shocks occur, this capital moves quickly. Investors position themselves ahead of expected disruptions, driving up futures prices that then feed through to importers, retailers, and consumers. The Iran crisis is therefore not just raising costs, it is activating a financial system primed to amplify them.

The consequences are global but uneven. In wealthier countries, higher food prices squeeze household budgets. In much of the Global South, where food accounts for a larger share of income, the same increases can push families into hunger. Import-dependent countries must pay prices set on global markets even when local supply conditions remain stable.

These pressures do not remain purely economic. Food price spikes can have destabilising political effects. Rising costs of staple foods have long been linked to social unrest, including in the lead-up to the Arab Spring, when increases in bread prices contributed to protests across North Africa and the Middle East. This reflects a broader pattern in which rising food costs – amplified by market speculation – increase the likelihood of unrest by intensifying existing social and economic grievances.

This helps explain a persistent paradox: hunger continues to rise in a world that produces more than enough food. The problem is not simply production, but access – and increasingly, how prices are formed.

That system was built over decades: on one hand through the deregulation of commodity markets in the Global North, which opened the door to large-scale speculative investment, and on the other, deregulation exported globally through IMF and World Bank programmes that promoted market liberalisation, privatisation, and the dismantling of public price stabilisation mechanisms, leaving many countries exposed to volatility.

The emerging food price pressures linked to the Iran conflict should therefore be understood as more than a temporary shock. They are a warning signal. If prices can spike before shortages occur, then food insecurity is no longer just a matter of supply. It is a function of how markets are organised.

Until that system is addressed, each new geopolitical crisis — whether in Iran or elsewhere — will continue to reverberate through food markets in ways that deepen inequality and intensify hunger. The next food crisis is not just growing in the fields. It is already being priced in.

Mihaela Siritanu is the Economic Governance and Financialisation Lead at the Bretton Woods Project.

 

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Source : © European Union, 2026 - EP

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Committee on Civil Liberties, Justice and Home Affairs

Source : © European Union, 2026 - EP