A portrait of President Samia Hassan hangs on a pole as thick smoke from burning tires fills the air during protests over her disputed candidacy in Dar es Salaam. Credit: Zuberi Mussa/IPS
By Kizito Makoye
DAR ES SALAAM, Tanzania, Nov 5 2025 (IPS)
At dawn in Manzese, a dusty township on the outskirts of Dar es Salaam, silence hangs where the sounds of commerce once roared. The township, usually crowded with street cooks, vegetable vendors, mechanics, and motorcycle taxis snaking through the morning rush, stood eerily empty. Shutters are pulled down, wooden stalls abandoned, and the air is heavy with the smell of burnt rubber. For five days, the township’s bustling economic life has been paralyzed—leaving residents unable to buy food or access basic services.
“I still can’t believe what I saw,” says Abel Nteena, a 36-year-old tricycle rider, his voice trembling as he recalls the horror that unfolded on October 31. “Masked men in black with red armbands came out of nowhere. They started shooting at us as we queued for fuel. They spoke Swahili, but their accent was strange—and their skin was unusually dark. They shouted at everyone to run and opened fire.”
Nteena says three of his colleagues were hit by bullets and are now fighting for their lives in a local hospital. “One was shot in the chest, another in the leg. I don’t even know if they will make it,” he says.
A City Under Siege
The attack was one of several that rocked Dar es Salaam following the disputed presidential elections, which many observers described as deeply flawed. The unrest has claimed hundreds of lives nationwide, with the government imposing a 12-hour curfew to quell the violence. But in doing so, it has paralyzed the country’s economic heart.
For the millions who rely on informal trade to survive, the curfew has been a nightmare. Shops and markets close by mid-afternoon, public transport halts, and banks and mobile money agents are often shuttered long before sunset.
“I was just buying milk when I heard gunshots,” recalls Neema Nkulu, a 31-year-old mother of three from the Bunju neighborhood. “People screamed and fell to the ground. I saw a man bleeding near the shop. I dropped everything and ran.” She says. “A sniper’s bullet hit the shop’s glass right where I had been standing. I thank God I’m alive.”
With financial services disrupted, Neema and many others cannot access money stored in mobile wallets. “I have cash in my phone, but the agents are closed, and I can’t withdraw it,” she says. “My children have gone without proper food for two days.”
Daily Struggles Amid Curfew
In Dar es Salaam, where nearly six million people depend on daily earnings, the curfew has created cascading hardships. Food prices have soared as trucks bringing supplies from upcountry regions remain stranded due to insecurity and fuel shortages. The cost of maize flour, a staple food, has doubled in a week. Fuel scarcity has sent public transport fares skyrocketing—with commuters paying twice the normal price to reach work.
“I used to sell fried fish every evening,” says Rashid Pilo, 39, who runs a roadside stall in Bunju. “My customers are mostly office workers who buy food on their way home. But now, because of the curfew, everyone rushes home early. I have lost almost everything. One night’s curfew means no income and no food for my family.”
At Mwananyamala and Mabwepande hospitals, morgues are reportedly overwhelmed by bodies of those killed in the violence. Health workers, speaking anonymously for fear of reprisals, say they have run out of space and body bags. The government has released no official casualty figures, but human rights groups estimate that hundreds have died since election day.
“The bodies keep coming,” says one morgue attendant, visibly shaken. “Some have bullet wounds; others were beaten. Families are scared to claim them.”
Fear and Silence
Across the city, the presence of heavily armed soldiers on the streets has instilled deep fear among residents. Armored vehicles patrol major intersections, and random house searches have become routine. Most city dwellers have chosen to remain indoors, venturing out only when necessary.
“I went to three ATMs, but none were working,” says Richard Masawe, a 46-year-old computer specialist at InfoTech company. “The internet was down, and even mobile banking was offline. I couldn’t buy anything or send money to my family. It felt like we were cut off from the world.”
The government says the internet shutdown was a “temporary security measure,” but rights groups argue it was an attempt to silence dissent and block the flow of information about the violence.
Transport in Dar es Salaam has also been crippled. Long queues of vehicles snake around petrol stations, while most buses remain grounded.
“We have fuel for only half a day,” says Walid Masato a Yas station manager. “Deliveries have stopped coming. The roads are unsafe.”
An Economy on the Brink
According to economist Jerome Mchau, the post-election crisis has exposed Tanzania’s economic fragility. “The informal sector, which employs more than 80 percent of Tanzanians, is the hardest hit,” he explains. “When people can’t move, can’t trade, and can’t access cash, the entire economic system grinds to a halt.”
Mchau estimates that the economy could lose up to USD 150 million per week if the unrest continues. “Inflationary pressure is already visible,” he adds. “Food and fuel prices are climbing fast, and consumer confidence is collapsing.”
The curfew has also paralyzed logistics networks. Trucks carrying essential goods from the central regions of Dodoma, Morogoro, and Mbeya have been unable to reach the coast, creating artificial shortages in urban centers. “We are seeing panic buying,” Mchau notes. “People are stockpiling rice, pasta, and flour because they don’t know what tomorrow will bring.”
Shattered Trust, Deep Divisions
Beyond the economic toll, the violence has eroded trust between citizens and the government. Many Tanzanians feel betrayed by a system they once considered a model of stability.
“Tanzania was long regarded as a beacon of peace and democracy in Africa,” says Michael Bante, a political commentator based in Dar es Salaam. “But what we’re seeing now is unprecedented—people losing faith in state institutions, opposition voices being silenced, and communities turning against each other.”
Bante says the government faces a monumental challenge in restoring public confidence. “President Samia’s administration must act decisively to unite the nation,” he says. “This means not only investigating human rights abuses but also engaging in genuine dialogue with opposition leaders and civil society.”
The opposition has accused the ruling party of manipulating the vote and using excessive force to suppress protests. The government, in turn, blames “foreign-funded elements” for inciting violence. The truth, analysts say, likely lies somewhere in between—in the deep mistrust that has been festering for years.
A Nation in Mourning
In many parts of Dar es Salaam, grief and uncertainty define daily life. At the Manzese Market, women gather quietly in small groups, whispering about missing relatives. The charred remains of kiosks and motorcycles litter the streets. A faint smell of smoke still hangs in the air.
“Life will never be the same,” says Nkulu, the young mother who narrowly escaped sniper fire. “We used to feel safe here. Now, every sound of a motorbike makes me jump. I can’t even send my children to school.”
Schools across the city remain closed indefinitely. Hospitals report rising cases of trauma and anxiety. Religious leaders have called for calm and reconciliation.
Searching for Stability
President Samia Suluhu Hassan, who has publicly condemned the violence, faces her toughest political test yet. In a televised address, she called for unity and promised to investigate the attacks. Yet, critics argue that the government’s heavy-handed security response risks inflaming tensions further.
“Tanzania is at a crossroads,” says Bante. “The leadership must choose between repression and reform. The world is watching.”
International partners, including the African Union and the United Nations, have called for restraint and dialogue. However, diplomatic sources say mediation efforts have stalled as both sides harden their positions.
For ordinary Tanzanians like Rashid, the fish vendor, politics has become a matter of survival. “I don’t care who wins or loses,” he says, frying a handful of tilapia over a small charcoal stove. “I just want peace so that I can work and feed my family.”
A Fragile Hope
As dusk settles over Dar es Salaam, the city remains cloaked in tension. The once-bustling bus stands and food stalls are deserted, the only movement coming from military patrols sweeping through dimly lit streets.
Yet, amid the fear and uncertainty, some still cling to hope. “We’ve seen hard times before,” says Masawe, the computer specialist. “If we can rebuild trust, maybe we can rebuild our country too.”
For now, that hope feels distant. Tanzania’s post-election crisis has left deep scars in a nation once hailed for its calm. Whether President Samia’s government can heal those wounds remains to be seen.
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In the arid and dry region of Isiolo in Kenya, a new irrigation scheme is helping communities to learn and adopt new ways and to find an alternative to livestock keeping in order to diversify sources of income to attain self-reliance and resilience to recurring droughts. Credit: EU/ECHO/Martin Karimi
The 30th "Conference of the Parties" (COP30) to the UN Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC) will take place from 6-21 November 2025 in Belém, Brazil. It will bring together world leaders, scientists, non-governmental organizations, and civil society to discuss priority actions to tackle climate change. COP30 will focus on the efforts needed to limit the global temperature increase to 1.5°C, the presentation of new national action plans (NDCs) and the progress on the finance pledges made at COP29.
By Martha Bekele and Nkiruka Chidia Maduekwe
ADDIS ABABA, Ethiopia / ABUJA, Nigeria , Nov 5 2025 (IPS)
Three decades after the first Climate COP, the multilateral climate process – which was intended to serve as an instrument of justice and a guardian of the planet’s atmosphere – has fallen far short of its goals.
Over the past 30 years, climate change has arrived and intensified, while the COP process has become a tiresome bureaucratic exercise that continually fails to hold the most responsible to account. It has also become an industry unto itself – and an exclusive one at that.
Without urgent and radical reform to its structure, financial architecture, and participatory mechanisms, the COP will continue to perpetuate the very injustices it was created to address. For the poorer and more vulnerable countries of the world – those that are least responsible for the climate crisis, yet most acutely affected – this situation is untenable.
The next 30 years will not be any different from the first 30, because the climate crisis will continue to worsen. In order to survive, we need a fundamental shift on three fronts: the financial architecture, knowledge sovereignty and accountability. And the changes need to start now.
First, we need a new structure for climate finance
Time and again, we have argued that the climate financial injustice epitomizes the need for a reformed approach to climate finance across the board. There is need for a new system that reduces the cost of capital, provides direct access to climate finance, minimizes transaction costs and bureaucratic barriers, and increases the share of grant-based support.
We must also operationalize the Loss and Damage Fund with equitable governance and resource allocation and to ensure the climate financing plans include clear sub-targets for adaptation, loss and damage, and finance for energy transition – all aligned with energy sovereignty and green industrialization. Climate finance must be seen not merely as a quantum to be delivered, but as a means of achieving justice.
Related to finance, and what is not much talked about, is the exorbitant cost attached to attending the COP itself. Everything related to this process comes at a price. For example, many negotiators, especially from Africa’s least developed nations, rely on external funding just to attend COP.
Civil-society actors are expected to pay exorbitant costs to observe a process and protest injustice. In Belém, hotel rates are reportedly touching $900 per night, the cost of a modest climate-adaptation project in a rural community. An African Participation Fund, supporting both negotiators and non-state actors, could ensure that representation and resistance are not privileges of means.
Second, we need knowledge sovereignty
The data and science shaping global climate targets are still largely produced in the North, leaving Africa to depend almost entirely on foreign research institutions for its climate models and risk assessments. Without their own data repositories and regional research capacity, African delegates are forced to negotiate with borrowed evidence. This cannot stand.
We must build Africa’s knowledge sovereignty by investing in Indigenous knowledge systems, local research institutions and South-South cooperation to generate solutions that are adapted to local needs. It is essential to build African climate-data infrastructure and regional research capacity, enabling negotiators to advocate with their own evidence.
Challenging the dominance of external technical assistance by fostering homegrown expertise and enhancing climate diplomacy capacity is vital. Capacity building for African research institutions and integrating local expertise into COP processes are necessary steps toward equitable participation.
Third, we need accountability
We must develop robust monitoring and reporting frameworks, such as the African Climate Finance Taxonomy and the Africa Climate Finance Strategy, to safeguard against greenwashing and ensure transparency. These tools should provide clear definitions of climate-aligned investments, ensuring that financial flows are directed toward projects meeting both climate and local development priorities.
The taxonomy serves as a countermeasure to the ambiguity of the multilateral process – verifying that mobilized funds are high quality, non-debt-creating, and genuinely transformative. Enforceable commitments, with clear timelines and consequences for non-compliance, are essential for restoring trust and ensuring accountability from developed countries.
As the world looks to COP30 and beyond, the call for urgent, empathetic and authoritative action must be answered with tangible change on these three fronts – climate finance, knowledge sovereignty and accountability. Incremental change will no longer suffice. We need transformation and accountability – and justice for Africa.
Martha Bekele is the co-founder and Director at DevTransform; Dr. Nkiruka Chidia Maduekwe is an Associate Professor of Law at the Nigerian Institute of Advanced Legal Studies and a former lead climate negotiator for Nigeria.
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UN Photo/ICJ-CIJ/Frank van Beek
The 30th "Conference of the Parties" (COP30) to the UN Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC) will take place from 6-21 November 2025 in Belém, Brazil. It will bring together world leaders, scientists, non-governmental organizations, and civil society to discuss priority actions to tackle climate change. COP30 will focus on the efforts needed to limit the global temperature increase to 1.5°C, the presentation of new national action plans (NDCs) and the progress on the finance pledges made at COP29.
By Joan Russow
VICTORIA, British Columbia, Canada, Nov 5 2025 (IPS)
At COP15, the developing countries were calling for the temperature to not rise above 1.5 degrees and they ignored the Copenhagen Accord which agreed to 2.0 degrees
Then at COP21, while the developing countries were still calling for the temperature to not arise above 1.5, they were ignored again. And then, the developing countries praised for their resilience for adapting to the climate change, which has been caused by developed states. In 2024, the United Nation General Assembly sought a legal opinion from the International Court of Justice on Climate change
The response was the following:
“Not only what states are required to do under international law to avert further climate change through both now and in the future, but they also have to assess the legal consequences under these obligations both through what they do and fail to do have caused significant harm to climate systems in other parts of the environment and harm to future generations as well as for those countries by virtue of geographical circumstances are vulnerable to adverse effects of climate change.”
However, a legal opinion from the court is not binding. The court can, however, provide interpretations of international law via customs or treaties such as the UN Framework on Climate Change UNFCCC.
All states are parties to UNFCCC. The objective of the Convention in Article 2 is: “stabilization of greenhouse gases at a level that would prevent dangerous anthropogenic interference with the climate system.
‘Such a level should be achieved within a time frame to allow ecosystems to adapt naturally to ensure food production is not threatened and to enable economic development is done in sustainable way.’“
Under Article 4, the principles include the following:
“The parties should take precautionary measures to anticipate, prevent, and minimize any adverse effects on developing countries. Lack of full scientific certainty should not be used as a reason for postponing such measures.”
Given that the developing countries are the most affected, but least responsible for climate change, perhaps developing countries could launch a case to seek an interpretation by the ICJ of both the article 2 and the precautionary principle
Dr Joan Russow is founder of the Global Compliance Research Project, formed in 1995 to document state non-compliance with international law.
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The closing ceremony held against the backdrop of the ancient Roman ruins, the Colosseum Credit: Community of Sant'Egidio
By Katsuhiro Asagiri
ROME / TOKYO, Nov 4 2025 (IPS)
In the shadow of Rome’s Colosseum — once a monument to imperial violence — religious leaders from across the world gathered this week to deliver a message that felt both ancient and urgent: peace must once again become humanity’s sacred duty.
Colosseo Credit: Kevin Lin, INPS Japan
The occasion was “Dare Peace,” the International Meeting for Peace: Religions and Cultures in Dialogue, hosted by the Community of Sant’Egidio. For three days, priests, rabbis, imams, monks and scholars debated what it means to uphold faith in an era defined by fear, nationalism and war.The meeting concluded Tuesday evening with Pope Leo XIV presiding over a ceremony that was equal parts prayer service and political statement.
A Call for Moral Courage
Speaking beneath the Arch of Constantine, Pope Leo urged governments and believers alike to resist what he called “the arrogance of power.”
“The world thirsts for peace,” he said. “We cannot allow people to grow accustomed to war as a normal part of human history. Enough — this is the cry of the poor and the cry of the earth.”Hirotsugu Terasaki, vice president of Soka Gakkai with Pope Leo XIV. Credit: Vatican News
The crowd, several thousand strong, included representatives of Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Buddhism and Hinduism. Among them was Hirotsugu Terasaki, vice president of Soka Gakkai, a Buddhist organization with a long record of peace advocacy.They stood together in silence as candles were lit around the ancient amphitheater — small lights flickering against the stone, symbolic of a shared prayer for reconciliation.
Faith and Accountability
The pope’s speech drew a clear line between faith and political responsibility.
“Peace must be the priority of every policy,” he said. “God will hold accountable those who failed to seek peace — for every day, month and year of war.”Those words, delivered as fighting continues in Ukraine and Gaza, carried a deliberate edge. The Vatican under Leo XIV has increasingly positioned itself as a moral counterweight to political paralysis on global crises — speaking of peace not as abstraction but as obligation.
Pope John Paul II Credit: Gregorini Demetrio, CC BY-SA 3.0
Lessons From Assisi
This year’s meeting marked nearly four decades since John Paul II convened the first interreligious gathering for peace in Assisi in 1986. Since then, the Sant’Egidio Community has maintained that dialogue among faiths can temper political divides.
“We have dared to speak of peace in a world that speaks the language of war,” said Marco Impagliazzo, the group’s president. “To close the paths of dialogue is madness. As Pope Francis said, the world suffocates without dialogue.”Session on the Dignity of Life
Earlier Tuesday, Soka Gakkai delegation took part in Session 22 titled “Justice Does Not Kill: Abolishing the Death Penalty,” held at the Austrian Cultural Forum.
Professor Enza Pellecchia of the University of Pisa, representing Soka Gakkai, took the stage and spoke about the movement’s efforts to abolish the death penalty, referring to the words of its founder, President Daisaku Ikeda, from his dialogue with the British historian Dr. Arnold Toynbee.
“The sanctity of life cannot be judged by guilt or merit — all lives are equal. Therefore, no one has the right to take a life, even in the name of justice. Accepting the death penalty is a form of institutionalized violence that assigns different values to human life, and President Ikeda has described it as ‘a manifestation of the prevailing tendency in modern times to devalue life”.Professor Enza Pellecchia of the University of Pisa, representing Soka Gakkai, delivering her speech during the Forum titled “Justice Does Not Kill: Abolishing the Death Penalty,” held at the Austrian Cultural Forum. Credit: Seikyo Shimbun
Professor Pellecchia said that President Ikeda’s humanistic philosophy deeply resonates with Pope Leo XIV’s recent statement that “one cannot claim to be pro-life while accepting the death penalty or any form of violence.” Both, she noted, confront the same moral error — the belief that some lives are expendable.
When Religion Refuses Silence
For decades, the Colosseum has hosted symbolic gatherings for peace. Yet this year’s ceremony, participants said, carried a sharper urgency. The wars in Europe and the Middle East, the displacement of millions, and rising authoritarianism have all given moral language new weight.
“Peace begins with the transformation of the human heart,” said Terasaki of SGI. “Interfaith cooperation is not symbolic — it’s a method for changing history.”A Plea That Still Echoes
As night fell, the trumpeter Paolo Fresu performed a mournful solo. Children stepped forward to deliver a Peace Appeal to diplomats and officials — a reminder that the next generation will inherit the choices made now.
The pope’s final words were brief, almost whispered:
“God wants a world without war. He will free us from this evil.”The candles continued to burn as the crowd dispersed — a fragile constellation of light against the ruins of Roman empire, and a quiet act of defiance in a world still learning to dare peace.
INPS Japan
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Selon le Fonds monétaire international (FMI), le niveau croissant de la dette publique européenne devrait mener les gouvernements à « repenser » fondamentalement leur rôle dans la fourniture de services essentiels aux citoyens de l’UE.
The post Face à une dette « explosive », l’Europe doit revoir le contrat social, selon le FMI appeared first on Euractiv FR.
By External Source
Nov 4 2025 (IPS-Partners)
Dr. David Edwards is the General Secretary of Education International, the voice of teachers and other education employees around the world. Through its 386 member organizations, Education International represents over 32.5 million teachers and education support personnel in 178 countries.
Dr. Edwards has led the organization since 2018, after seven years as Deputy General Secretary directing education policy, advocacy, research and communications. Prior to joining Education International, Dr. Edwards was an Associate Director at the National Education Association of the United States. He has worked as an Education Specialist at the Organization of American States and began his career as a public high school teacher.
Education International leads the teachers’ constituency within Education Cannot Wait’s (ECW) governance and, accordingly, Dr. Edwards represents the constituency within the Fund’s High-Level Steering Group.
ECW: Education International is a founding member of ECW. Together with our strategic partners, ECW investments have reached more than 14 million children with the safety, hope and opportunity of a quality education. Why should donors prioritize funding for education through multilateral funds such as ECW?
Dr. Edwards: Multilateral funds are essential to ensuring coordinated and sustainable support for education in emergencies. Let’s remember that they emerged in response to duelling agencies which led to duplication and wasted partners’ time. By pooling resources and aligning efforts across contexts and organizations, they reduce duplication and enable efficient use of funds. For donors facing shrinking aid budgets, this should be a top priority.
Multilateral mechanisms not only ensure that support is not fragmented, they also ensure that it meets local needs. This is thanks to the fundamentally democratic nature of multilateral mechanisms: funds like ECW provide a platform for inclusive decision-making with representation of all stakeholders, from global institutions and national governments to the teaching profession and civil society. From our perspective, it is critical that teacher organizations can meaningfully shape priorities and interventions, including in crisis settings. It ensures that funding decisions reflect the lived realities of teachers on the ground. Democratic representation of teachers also strengthens accountability: transparent and inclusive governance structures make a real difference in monitoring and tracking progress, to ensure that support actually reaches education communities that are most affected. You want to know if a school was built, a resource delivered or impact felt? Ask a teacher.
ECW: We will need 44 million additional primary and secondary teachers worldwide by 2030. On the frontlines of humanitarian crises – where teachers work in dangerous conditions with low pay – the challenges are daunting. How can the global community help we fill this gap?
Dr. Edwards: Millions of the most vulnerable children in the world are being condemned to a life of hardship because they don’t have access to a teacher. Stella Oryang Aloyo, a South Sudanese refugee teacher working in a refugee settlement in Uganda, asked the fundamental question we must keep in mind: “What is education without teachers?”
Classrooms are important but they are not enough. Books are important but they are not enough. Teachers are the heart of any education system and, in crisis contexts, they are all the more important. For children in emergency settings, access to a qualified and well-supported teacher can make the difference between hope for a better future and lifelong destitution and deprivation.
To address this shortage, the global community must invest in teachers in crisis settings as a top priority. This means ensuring that enough teachers are trained, recruited, and paid sufficiently and regularly. This last point is essential. Over the past few years, Education International has consistently warned that delayed, partial or irregular salary payment is one of the most pressing challenges facing teachers in emergencies and we have started documenting this issue. In South Sudan, at the time of publication of our study released in April 2025, teachers on government payroll had not been paid in over a year. In Yemen, Nigeria and many other contexts affected by crises, teachers experience severe delays and issues with the disbursement of their salaries.
These issues stem from fragmented funding, weak payroll systems, but also a lack of prioritization: a study published by INEE in 2022 revealed that the payment of teacher salaries is by far the most challenging area for which to secure funding in education in emergencies.
The impact on the continuity of education is huge because teachers have to look for other sources of revenue to support their families or they leave the profession altogether. As a result, education is disrupted.
This is also a matter of professional dignity: if we all agree that education cannot wait, then we have to acknowledge that teachers cannot wait either, and must take action accordingly.
Governments hold the primary responsibility to support and remunerate their workforce but, when everything falls apart, it is our responsibility as a global community to step up and support teachers. This requires flexible, multi-year funding mechanisms. It also means integrating teacher compensation into both emergency response and long-term recovery plans. If we are serious about ending the global teacher shortage and achieving Sustainable Development Goal 4 (SDG4), we must start by ensuring that every teacher, especially in crisis settings, is paid fully, fairly and on time.
ECW: Teachers are essential in achieving the goal of ensuring quality education for all by 2030 (SDG4). In the face of fast-changing technologies, budget constraints and other converging challenges, how can education be better delivered with coordination, speed and agility on the frontlines of fast-evolving humanitarian crises?
Dr. Edwards: To deliver education effectively in humanitarian crises, we must empower teachers and trust them. Coordination among all humanitarian and development actors is key, and teachers, through their organizations, must have a seat at the table. This will ensure that teachers are part of integrated response plans, not an afterthought.
During the COVID-19 pandemic, the whole world saw how teachers that had the tools, time, training and connectivity were able to adapt quickly and innovate to meet the needs of their students – regardless of the circumstances in which they were teaching. In the rush to deliver agile and cost-effective solutions, we must resist the temptation to prioritize technology over teachers. Speed and agility in education delivery must build upon teacher leadership at all levels, from engaging teacher organizations in designing responses, to trusting and empowering teachers to innovate as they deem appropriate for their students.
Digital technologies will never replace the human connection, contextual understanding and emotional support that teachers provide. This is particularly important in crisis settings, where children often face trauma, displacement and instability. A trained, caring teacher may be the only constant adult presence in children’s lives, offering not just education, but a sense of safety, psychosocial support and, most importantly, hope. I have seen teachers protect their students by creating human tunnels ushering them to safety. I have seen resource-strapped teachers give their own lunch to hungry students. And I have spoken with teachers who have had to throw themselves on top of students to protect them from a bomb blast. I am still waiting for an AI chatbot to outperform us in the area of caring and sacrifice.
ECW: Localization is a hallmark of the UN80 Initiative and Grand Bargain Agreements. How can ECW, Education International and other leading global organizations work together to tap the vast potential of local delivery models?
Dr. Edwards: From our perspective, localization is not just about shifting delivery, it is about shifting power. It begins with trust: global organizations must shift from directing to enabling local actors to lead response efforts. This means investing in local capacity by establishing and supporting mechanisms for social and policy dialogue that bring together education authorities and teacher unions. Such mechanisms ensure that education responses are not only contextually relevant, but also that those who are in charge of implementing them feel a sense of ownership and are fully on board. While funding must reach schools and students, it is equally important to invest in the institutional capacity of local actors to lead, coordinate and monitor implementation on the ground.
At Education International, we are committed to strengthening our members’ capacities, to ensure that teachers and their representatives participate actively and meaningfully in education policy development, implementation, monitoring and evaluation. We have seen multiple micro-innovations blossom into full-scale programmes and badly designed programmes collapse by failing to recognize local realities that any teacher could spot. We systematically and purposefully build spaces for local expertise to be shared and strengthened. By working together in this direction, we can contribute to building education systems that are more resilient, sustainable and accountable.
ECW: We all know that ‘readers are leaders,’ and that reading skills are key to every child’s education. What are three books that have most influenced you personally and/or professionally?
Dr. Edwards: On a personal level, I think Herman Hesse’s Narcissus and Goldmund came at a seminal moment because of both where I read it and what I learned from it.
Being from a small, rural Midwest town in the US, the chance to study abroad in high school helped me develop an opportunities mindset. Studying in Austria meant immersion in German around the clock with peers who pressed me for my views on politics and philosophy in ways I was unaccustomed to in Slippery Rock, Pennsylvania. Reading Narcissus and Goldmund in the original German and then discussing it with a close friend who wanted to know which character I identified more with fundamentally rewired my understanding of what was possible. The book itself, set in medieval Europe, beautifully illustrates one of humanity’s most fundamental post-Enlightenment tensions and debate about whether we are led by our passions or our intellect. It is also a touchstone for me about my friendships and relationships, the beauty of diversity and friendships that don’t fit neatly into a world that demands we fit in boxes and take sides.
Professionally, I love the writing of Andy Hargreaves and also when he writes together with Dennis Shirley. I was going to suggest their Global Fourth Way but I think I will land on Andy’s latest book – The Making of an Educator – which tells the story that all educators can relate to those first few years, and the deafening volume of the educational politics around us. What I love about Andy, who is one of the most quoted and well-known educational leadership researchers in the world, is the accessibility of his writing and the humanity it exudes. When I read his books, I imagine myself hiking a trail with him while he spins a yarn into a narrative web that’s part Bryson, part Bunyan and always illuminating.
Lastly, and this is really hard, I think reading I, Rigoberta by Rigoberta Menchu inspired me to study in Guatemala and learn its history. The book is told through the eyes of a young girl who questions the injustice of the horror she and her community are being subjected to; a realized and learned sense of justice from a place of deep sadness that moves from bystander to agency, resilience and bravery. People like Rigoberta, Mandela and Pepe Mujica who suffer unimaginable injustice and still wage peace, these are the stories we need right now, more than ever.
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By External Source
Nov 4 2025 (IPS-Partners)
From the 10th to the 21st of November 2025, the 30th session of the Conference of the Parties (COP30) will be hosted in Belém, Brazil.
The world gathers in the Amazon’s gateway city to chart a course for climate action.
This edition of COP is more than a summit. It is set in the heart of the Amazon, the “lungs of the Earth,” symbolising the link between forest protection and climate justice.
Here, nearly 198 countries under the UNFCCC will negotiate climate policy, financing, adaptation and mitigation.
At the center, the goal to limit global warming to 1.5 °C above pre-industrial levels remains the guiding star of the Paris Agreement and the COP process.
Yet current commitments put us far from that trajectory. The upcoming global stocktake and new Nationally Determined Contributions (NDCs) will be scrutinized here in Belém.
One of the defining agenda items is climate finance. At COP29, parties agreed to a US$300 billion per year target by 2035 for developing countries. But civil society and many Global South delegates call this “insufficient,” as the real need runs much higher.
For example, in 2022, developed nations pledged about US$116 billion – yet only USD 28 to 35 billion was delivered; nearly two-thirds of that came as loans, often on commercial terms.
Belém offers another unique spotlight: tropical forests and Indigenous rights. The Amazon Basin remains the epicenter of global forest loss. Brazil alone accounted for roughly half of all tropical forest degradation in the basin in recent assessments.
Indigenous leaders and civil society insist that the emerging “Loss & Damage” fund and climate finance models must recognize rights, agency and self-determination—not just top-down flows.
Innovation and technology transfer are also on the table: the UNFCCC has opened submissions for climate technology innovations that will be showcased at COP30.
And the Brazilian COP30 Presidency has launched more than 30 thematic days for inclusion and implementation – a shift toward action-oriented gatherings.
What does success look like in Belém?
Strong, visible commitments on new or enhanced NDCs aligned with the 1.5 °C goal. A credible roadmap from USD 300 billion to USD 1.3 trillion per year by 2035 for climate finance.
Operationalization of the loss and damage fund with meaningful access for the most vulnerable. Forest finance instruments that reward conservation and respect Indigenous stewardship.
Belém is more than a meeting place. It is a moment of choice—for equity, ambition and the planet’s future.
When the delegates leave Belém, the proof will not be in the words. It will be in the changed pathways: more finance flowing, forests standing, and carbon dropping. The world will be watching.
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Rajagopal P.V. at the International Civil Society Week (ICSW2025) in Bangkok. Credit: Zofeen Ebrahim/IPS
By Zofeen Ebrahim
BANGKOK, Nov 4 2025 (IPS)
“If nations can have defense ministries, why not peace ministries?” asks Rajagopal PV, the soft-spoken yet formidable founder of Ekta Parishad. “We are told to see issues through a gender lens—why not a peace lens? Why can’t we imagine a business model rooted in non-violence or an education system that teaches peace?”
Founded in 1989, Ekta Parishad—literally Forum for Unity—is a vast people’s movement of more than 250,000 landless poor, now recognized as one of India’s largest and most disciplined grassroots forces for justice.
To Rajagopal, these aren’t utopian dreams—they’re blueprints for a possible world.
Over the decades, Ekta Parishad has secured land rights for nearly half a million families, trained over 10,000 grassroots leaders, protected forests and water bodies, and helped shape key land reform laws and policies in India.
All this has been achieved not through anger, but through disciplined, nonviolent marches that stretch across hundreds of kilometers. Along the way, many leaders have walked beside him—among them, the current Prime Minister of Armenia.
In an age marked by deep disorder—where wealth concentrates in few hands, poverty spreads, and the planet itself trembles under human greed—the 77-year-old Gandhian remains unshaken in his belief that peace alone can redeem humanity.
“We must rescue peace from the clutches of poverty and all its evils,” he told IPS on the sidelines of the International Civil Society Week, standing on the football ground of Bangkok’s Thammasat University.
“And it can be done,” he insists—and his life is proof. In 1969, the centenary year of Mahatma Gandhi’s birth, the Government of India launched a unique exhibition on wheels, a ten-coach train carrying Gandhi’s life and message across the nation. Rajagopal was part of the team that curated and travelled with it.
“For an entire year, we journeyed from state to state. Thousands of schoolchildren would gather at railway platforms, their faces lit with curiosity, waiting to meet Gandhi through our displays,” he recalls.
Yet somewhere along those long railway tracks, Rajagopal began to feel that displaying Gandhi’s ideals wasn’t enough. “The exhibition was beautiful,” he says, “but what was the use of preaching non-violence if we couldn’t live it, breathe it, and bring it to life?”
That realization led him to one of the most daring experiments in peacebuilding India had ever seen—negotiating with the feared bandits of the Chambal valley. “It was 1970,” he recalls. “We moved cautiously, first meeting villagers on the periphery to build trust. Once we had their confidence, we sent word to the dacoits: we wanted to talk. With the government’s consent, we ventured into what we called a ‘peace zone’—often by night, walking for hours through deep ravines—to meet men the world only knew as outlaws.”
The dialogues continued for four years. Eventually, as many as 570 bandits laid down their arms before a photograph of Mahatma Gandhi—a sight India had never seen before. The government, in turn, promised they would not face the death penalty and would receive land and livestock to rebuild their lives. Rehabilitation took another four painstaking years, but it was a victory of conscience over fear.
“They didn’t just surrender their weapons—they surrendered their anger,” Rajagopal says quietly. “There was real repentance, and that takes time—but it lasts.” His commitment came at a cost. At his ashram—a spiritual retreat he had founded—he was threatened, beaten, and ordered to abandon his peace efforts. He talked them through to accepting his presence.
“Today that same region is heaven,” he smiles, his eyes crinkling with memory. “Fifty years ago, people trembled at sunset—terrified of the bandits. Today, you can travel at 2:00 pm in the night, where fear ruled once.”
The mass surrender may have looked like a triumph for the state, but Rajagopal urges people to look deeper. “It’s the invisible violence—poverty, injustice, and oppression—that breeds the visible one: dacoities, kidnappings, and killings,” he explains.
Though Rajagopal and his companions had ended one form of violence, the deeper, quieter kind—born of poverty and neglect—still festered. Until that was confronted, he knew, peace would remain incomplete.
Years of working alongside the poor had taught him one truth: non-violence needs structure. If India’s Indigenous and landless communities were to be heard, they had to be organized.
“We began training young people from dozens of villages,” he says. “They went door to door, teaching others not only about their rights—especially the right to land—but also how to claim them peacefully.”
With that foundation, a five-year plan took shape. Each village home chose one member to take part. Every day, the family set aside one rupee and a fistful of rice—a humble but powerful act of commitment.
They even created a “playbook” of possible scenarios—how to stay calm under provocation, how to respond to setbacks, and how to practice non-violence in thought and action. “In one of our marches, a truck ran over three of our people, killing them,” he recalls softly. “There was grief, but no retaliation. Instead, they sat in silence and meditated. That was our true test.”
In 2006, 500 marchers walked 350 kilometers from Gwalior to Delhi, demanding land rights. Nothing changed. But they didn’t stop.
A year later, in 2007, 25,000 people—many barefoot—set out again on the national highway. “Imagine that sight,” Rajagopal says, eyes gleaming. “Twenty-five thousand people walking for a month, powered only by hope.”
The march displayed not just India’s poverty but also its power—the quiet power of the poor united. It was among the most disciplined mobilizations the country had ever seen. “There was one leader for every hundred people,” Rajagopal explains. “We walked by day and slept on the highway by night. Those in charge of cooking went ahead each morning so that by sundown, a single meal was ready for all.”
In a later march, Rajagopal recalls, the government sent a large police force. “I was worried,” he admits. “I called the authorities to tell them this was a non-violent protest—we didn’t need protection. The officer replied, ‘They’re not there for you; they’re here to learn how disciplined movements should be.’”
Along the route, villages greeted them like family—offering bags of rice, water, and prayers. “There was never a shortage of food,” Rajagopal smiles. “When your cause is just, the world feeds you.”
By the time the march reached Delhi, the government announced a new land reform policy and housing rights and agreed to enact the Forest Rights Act.
The government dispersed the marchers with hollow promises and the reforms never happened.
So Ekta Parishad planned an even larger march—a Jan Satyagraha of 100,000 people in 2012.
“Halfway through, the government came running.”
Rajagopal’s face lights up as he recalls the event. “They agreed to our ten-point agenda and signed it in front of the people. That moment was historic—governments almost never do that; the Indian government certainly never does it!”
The agreement included land and housing rights, a national task force on land reform, the prime minister’s oversight of policy implementation, and fast-track courts to resolve land disputes.
Today, because of these long, barefoot marches, more than three million Indigenous people in India now have legal rights to land and housing. The struggle also gave birth to India’s Land Acquisition, Rehabilitation, and Resettlement Act—a landmark in people’s movements.
“The Act also safeguards fertile land,” Rajagopal explains. “Before the government can acquire any area, a social impact study must be done. And if farmland is taken, the owners receive four times its value in compensation.”
“The purpose of our marches,” Rajagopal says, “is not to fight the government, but to win it over. The government is not the enemy; injustice is. We must stand on the same side of the problem.”
For Rajagopal, peace is not a sentiment but a system—something that must be built, brick by brick, through dialogue and respect. “Non-violence,” he says, “isn’t passive. It’s active patience—listening, accepting differences, never policing thought.” The same principle, he believes, can heal families, neighborhoods, nations—and the world itself.
His next mission is to create a Youth Peace Force, ready to enter conflict zones and resolve disputes through dialogue. He has also launched the Peace Builders Forum, or Peace7, uniting seven countries—South Africa, Japan, Costa Rica, Switzerland, Canada, India, and Armenia. His dream is to expand it to Peace20, where, as he smiles, “wealth will never be a criterion for membership.”
IPS UN Bureau Report
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