The Human Consciousness Now...Our World in the Midst of Becoming...to What? Observe, contemplate Now.
DENVER, Colorado, USA, Oct 21 2026 (IPS) - If you’ve been around Venezuelans for long enough, you know that we tend to speak in superlatives. We have the best baseball players, the most beautiful beaches, the tastiest arepas, and the wickedest dictators. But even being used to the scale of our superlatives didn’t quite prepare me for what I read in the May 5 edition of The New York Times, in a story called “In Venezuela, Trump Vowed to Show Accountability. Oil Deals Linger.” The story tells us that a network of shell companies controlled by Carlos Malpica (who is widely believed to be Maduro’s bagman) embezzled $11 billion of the country’s oil wealth in 2021 and 2022. In the Times’ words: “for every two dollars that Venezuela earned selling oil earlier this decade, one dollar was stolen, internal documents and official statistics show.”
Francisco R. Rodríguez
However, it is one thing to document the practice of corruption and another to argue that half of the country’s oil revenues were stolen. That conclusion is inconsistent with what we know about flows of currency into and out of Venezuela. Put simply, $11 billion of oil revenues could not have been stolen because if they had, Venezuela would not have been able to buy the goods that we know it purchased from the rest of the world.
The claim that half of oil revenues in 2021–22 were lost to corruption rests on a specific assumption: that if Venezuela’s state-owned oil company did not receive direct payment for its exports, the money must have been stolen. That interpretation misses one important fact. During this period, Venezuela was highly sanctioned, could not access bank accounts, and was paying for many of its imports directly with oil. That PDVSA did not directly receive cash payment on billions of dollars in receivables is not evidence of corruption; it is evidence of barter.
The mother of all kleptocracies
The claim that $11 billion were stolen is staggering because it would represent by far the largest corruption scandal ever uncovered. To take one example: the largest ever kleptocracy investigation, that for Malaysia’s 1MDB scandal, has been alleged to have diverted $4.5 billion over a seven-year period in a country whose GDP was approximately $270 billion a year. That works out to about 0.2 percent of Malaysian GDP over that period. Were the New York Times’ $11 billion figure correct, it would represent roughly 8 percent of Venezuela’s GDP over the period — approximately 32 times the size of the Malaysian graft relative to its economy. And if you take into account that estimates suggest that every dollar of oil revenue generates about 4 dollars of non-oil activity, you would reach the conclusion that the costs of Maduro’s alleged corruption was around 40 percent of Venezuelan GDP — several orders of magnitude higher than the cost of corruption found in numerous quantitative cross-national studies (and that[s even without counting the money other people were stealing). This would make Venezuela by far the mother of all kleptocracies.
The Times’ $11 billion number, if true, has major implications for the debates about Venezuela. For a long time, proponents of maximum pressure sanctions have argued that we shouldn’t worry about their detrimental effect on the country’s economy because the real cause of Venezuela’s collapse is corruption. That argument has always been strongly flawed: there’s no reason why corruption, mismanagement, poor policies and sanctions can’t all have contributed to the collapse. That said, if it were true that half of Venezuela’s oil income was being brazenly stolen, then the idea that external constraints are at most a secondary cause of Venezuela’s economic malaise acquires a greater ring of truth.
Reality check
Yet the story that Maduro’s henchmen stole $11 billion has a deep problem. If that money had really vanished, then Venezuela would not have been able to pay for the goods that it imported in those years.
In 2021 and 2022, Venezuela sold $26 billion in oil shipments, or an average of $13 billion a year. In addition, it generated another $11 billion in non-oil exports, of which a large part is mining, and received around $7 billion in remittances. That means the country received total foreign currency inflows of $44 billion in those two years. Now here’s the rub. We also know that the country was paying around $44 billion in imports of goods, services, and income payments to the rest of the world over the same two years. In fact, for 2021 and 2022 combined, the country’s foreign currency revenues exceeded its spending by just $0.04 billion. This difference, also known as the current account balance, was essentially zero. It means the country was spending as much money as was coming in, which makes sense for a country that had no assets to run down and no one to lend it money.
In sum in 2021–22, Venezuela was living paycheck to paycheck. And when you’re doing that, it’s very hard for half of your paychecks to go missing without you and everyone around you noticing.
Table 1: Venezuela Current Account Statistics, 2021–2022
Source: Own construction using balance of payments data from Venezuelan Central Bank.
Now you might say: wait a minute, if the money was stolen, then maybe it didn’t come in at all, and instead of those $44 billion we would have had $55 billion in foreign currency earnings. Except that the New York Times story tells us that the oil was sold and invoiced, and that PDVSA never directly received payment for it. But if that’s true, then we know they must have been registered as exports. That’s how balance of payments statistics are built: you count an export when it is sold and invoiced, not when it is paid for.
But what if the Central Bank is lying? What if it’s just claiming that Venezuela sold $26 billion in oil to hide evidence of the corruption? Or what if it’s inflating import numbers with the same purpose?
Certainly, that would not be beyond them. And, in fact, we know there are circumstances under which over-invoicing of imports distorts balance of payments statistics. But that tends to happen in different conditions — for example, when there are exchange controls and people claim to be importing more than they really are.
To check this, I put together data reported by Venezuela’s 31 most important trading partners. Scaling up to the economy’s total trade, I estimate total goods imports of $23 billion for 2021–22, quite close to the Central Bank’s $24 billion.[1] I also looked at estimates of exports from physical oil shipments constructed by independent agencies.[2] Again, the numbers match up with what the Central Bank is telling us.
Francisco R. Rodríguez is a senior research fellow at the Center for Economic and Policy Research (cepr.net) in Washington, DC and a professor and fellow at the University of Denver’s Korbel School of International Studies.
[1] The calculation assumes that the share of trade with these partners remained stable between 2012 and 2021.
[2] Average oil exports from Venezuela in 2021 and 2022 were 627,000 and 616,500 barrels per day, respectively, according to data from Reuters and Refinitiv Eikon. Using these export volumes, the BCV’s implied sales price for Venezuelan oil would be $47.0 and $68.1 per barrel in 2021 and 2022, respectively, implying a discount of 10 percent on average relative to OPEC’s Merey price for those years. This is consistent with evidence that Venezuela sold some of its oil at a lower price than that of the market reference reported to OPEC (see, e.g., this story based on internal PDVSA reports and this New York indictment in a corruption case with direct numbers reflecting discounts on PDVSA sales). For Venezuela to have had a sizable current account surplus, the BCV would have to be understating its oil exports — but this would imply either substantially higher export volumes than those calculated by Reuters/Refinitiv Eikon based on tanker loading data, or that Venezuela was selling its oil at a substantially higher price. Both appear highly implausible.
IPS UN Bureau
SÁPMI, Norway, Oct 21 2026 (IPS) - The Sámi, Europe’s last recognised Indigenous community, have faced threats to their existence throughout history. Norway, in 2024, apologised for its forced assimilation policy following the findings of a Truth and Reconciliation Commission report, and in September 2026 Sweden has recently been told to do the same.
Despite the growing understanding of how their culture and economic livelihoods have been threatened, their precarious lifestyle is again under threat, ironically from something that is usually considered positive: the ‘green revolution’.
Kautokeino, in Norway’s far north, feels like a capital of Sápmi, the homeland of the Sámi people. The region is associated with the Scandinavian mountain range and the vast territories traversed by reindeer. Much of it lies above the Arctic Circle, stretching across Norway, Sweden, Finland and the Kola Peninsula in Russia.
In Kautokeino, 95 percent of the population are Sámi, and Northern Sámi is the main language. One in every two inhabitants owns reindeer. So does municipal council leader Anders S. Buljo, who once worked full-time in reindeer herding, a livelihood his son has since taken over.
“Right now, the reindeer are in the higher mountains closer to the coast and out on the islands,” Buljo explains, standing on a hilltop with a 360-degree view across the vast landscape.
In September, the reindeer move inland to their winter grazing grounds. The Sámi were once nomadic, following the reindeer’s seasonal movements across the landscape. Reindeer herding remains deeply intertwined with Sámi culture, and both reindeer-herding Sámi and those who rely on hunting and fishing maintain a strong connection to nature.
Beyond the houses clustered in the settlement, the landscape is largely untouched: tens of kilometres of tundra and rolling hills dotted with low trees, marshes, lakes and flowing streams. Rounded, barren mountains stretch towards the horizon, where higher peaks remain covered in snow and ice throughout the year.
The reindeer were once wild, hunted by the Sámi with bows and arrows and spears. Traces of trapping pits, used for thousands of years, can still be found in the terrain.
Over time, the Sámi began gathering reindeer into herds at certain times of the year, separating them and slaughtering selected animals. As the Sámi were brought under state administration, Sámi reindeer-herding communities were established. Each has hundreds or thousands of reindeer, yet the obstacles facing the livelihood continue to mount.
“Wind power, mines and holiday villages are taking up more and more space. At least here, tourism is manageable, as there are no large ski resorts,” says Buljo.
Forestry, agriculture, mining, construction, hydropower, snowmobile trails, ski-lift systems and a growing network of roads and railways are increasingly affecting Sápmi. Helicopters ferry hunters and skiers into the mountains, and skiing from mountain peaks by helicopter is permitted in Sweden.
“It is incredible how little people know about the Sámi and Indigenous peoples, especially further south. We need to build understanding,” Buljo says.
The wind farm at Fosen is a telling example. In 2021, Norway’s Supreme Court ruled that the wind turbines built there were illegal because they infringed on the reindeer herders’ right to practise their culture.
“They build first and ask questions afterwards. The courts established that it was a human rights violation. But the wind turbines are still there,” Buljo says.
Like Indigenous peoples across the Americas, nation states forcibly displaced the Sámi through violence and legislation.
“This continued into the 1970s. We see similar tendencies even today, as the Fosen case shows.”
Anything associated with the “green transition” is often presented as inherently positive. Yet beneath the rhetoric lie the economic interests of states and corporations.
“How green is the transition, really? When the last ore has been extracted from the mountains and the last peak has been fitted with a wind turbine, there will be no reason to stay,” Buljo says.
His municipality can nevertheless influence the direction of development and, for example, prevent mines from opening.
“In 2019, the Supreme Court recognised reindeer husbandry as a traditional use of the land, improving its legal position. And we have come a little further in Norway than in Sweden and Finland.”
In 1979, Karesuando in Sweden’s far north hosted the Davvi Suvva festival, which brought together Indigenous people from around the world. In the opening speech, preserved in the documentary We Are All Brothers and Sisters, Oula Näkkäläjärvi, spokesperson for the Sámi, said:
“We, Indigenous people, have one thing in common: we want to live in harmony with nature, and we can.”
That conviction remains. Yet technological progress and economic growth are transforming lives everywhere, with profound consequences for Indigenous peoples. The price of “development” is an escalating climate crisis. Above the Arctic Circle, the changes are increasingly visible: milder winters, warmer summers and shrinking glaciers. Flora and fauna are being affected in front of us.
Norway and Denmark are among the 24 countries that have ratified the International Labour Organization’s Indigenous and Tribal Peoples Convention, 1989 (No. 169). Neither Sweden nor Finland has signed this key instrument for the protection of Indigenous rights.
The genocide of Indigenous peoples in North America began with colonisation and continued well into the 20th century. Neither the United States nor Canada has ratified ILO Convention 169. In the Nordic countries, the Sámi did not put up armed resistance. Living dispersed across the region, they were gradually pushed off lands they had inhabited for millennia.
In Norway, a Truth and Reconciliation Commission worked from 2018 to 2023. Alongside an official apology to the Sámi people, concrete measures have been taken. Finland’s Sámi Truth and Reconciliation Commission published its report in December 2025. In Sweden, the Truth Commission for the Sami People presented its report on 30 September 2026.
The auditorium at Mid Sweden University in Östersund was filled. Hundreds of Sámi had travelled from across Sápmi to witness a historic moment, one that many hoped would mark the beginning of something new.
“Sweden’s assimilation policy has been very successful,” says Marja-Kristin Skum, her remark edged with irony.
Skum is Sámi, a reindeer owner, teacher and language researcher at the Sámi University of Applied Sciences in Kautokeino. As part of the Truth Commission’s work, she interviewed people willing to share their experiences. Most were between 60 and 70 years old, but even children gave testimony. The accounts leave little doubt that state policies have left deep scars.
“Here is the truth. But what does reconciliation look like? This is not just about us Sámi. The majority population and the state also have work to do. How are we to repair all the damage that has been done? This wound has never healed,” Skum says.
Although policies in Norway, Finland and Sweden have differed, the three countries face many of the same questions about their past and present. Liv Inger Somby, rector of the Sámi University of Applied Sciences in Kautokeino, travelled more than 1,000 kilometres to Östersund to attend the presentation of the Swedish report, which calls for “an official apology, compensation, and national redress for historical injustices.”
“Of course, what is happening in Sweden is being followed in Norway, too. We essentially have no borders in Sápmi, and we need to keep working across national boundaries. It is very important that we stand strong together,” Somby says.
From the 18th century onwards, farmers from southern Sweden were granted land in the north, where timber, silver, iron ore, gold and other natural resources awaited exploitation. From the 1950s onwards, numerous hydropower plants with huge dams were built, submerging large areas of land under water.
Well into the 20th century, the Sámi were prevented from speaking their own language and forbidden to practise their religion and spirituality, both deeply intertwined with nature and the landscape. In the 2020s, Sámi culture is experiencing what some describe as a “boom”, with growing visibility in film, literature and music and recognition in the cultural sphere.
Ol-Ánte Sikku, chairman of The Gaaltije Foundation, a South Sami cultural centre and museum in Östersund, reflects on what comes next.
“A truth commission cannot be repeated, and its report cannot simply be put on a shelf. Something has to come of it. If it does not happen now, it never will,” he says. Sikku also notes that the political and social climate has become harsher since the commission began its work.
“With mining and resource exploitation, the ‘green transition’, defence, rearmament and space initiatives, Sámi interests can be seen as obstacles.”
When political leaders suggest, implicitly or explicitly, that the Sámi are standing in the way of development, they fuel hostility.
Whether Sweden’s Truth Commission will lead to concrete action remains to be seen. Its report now passes into the hands of a new government. Sweden held a parliamentary election on 13 September, but negotiations to form a government may take time.
A possible left-green-centre coalition is expected to place greater emphasis on environmental protection than the outgoing right-wing government. Economic interests, however, continue to carry considerable weight.
The pressure on Sápmi is intense. Proposals and applications range from extensions to ski-lift systems to large wind farms and mines. Even foreign companies can obtain permits for test drilling. Sweden is often described as a country covered in forest, but 90 percent is managed land, planted with spruce or pine and harvested after 80–120 years.
There is a Sámi saying: “If the Sámi take care of the reindeer, the reindeer take care of the Sámi.”
Today, this relationship involves far more than the practical work of herding. For Sámi reindeer-herding communities, it also means a constant struggle through legal and administrative processes, with documents to read, prepare and respond to.
The recently approved establishment of another mine near Kiruna is a case in point. The project will affect the Gabna Sámi reindeer-herding community, once again restricting the reindeer’s ability to move freely through the landscape.
IPS UN Bureau Report
UNITED NATIONS, Oct 21 2026 (IPS) - In recent months, Afghanistan’s humanitarian crisis has severely deteriorated, with the UN reporting record-high levels of acute malnutrition and hunger. Compounded by rampant human rights violations, limited access to basic services, and persistent barriers to humanitarian aid, the UN warns that conditions could considerably worsen in the coming months.
The latest figures from the Integrated Food Security Phase Classification (IPC) show that approximately 15.9 million people—32 percent of the analyzed population—are currently facing Crisis-levels of hunger (IPC Phase 3) or worse. Of those, roughly 3.4 million face Emergency-levels of hunger (IPC Phase 4), just one step away from the highest level, which could entail the onset of famine.
IPC projects that food insecurity could surge from November to April during the winter lean season. As agricultural activity slows down, unemployment remains widespread, and harsh weather hinders aid delivery and basic services, IPC estimates that nearly 19.2 million people—including 10 million children—could face Crisis-levels of hunger or worse, with 5 million at risk of Emergency-levels of hunger.
The World Food Programme (WFP) and the Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO) warn that food assistance, agricultural support, and healthcare operations must be scaled up ahead of the winter season. WFP Country Director John Aylieff stressed that the “window to act” is rapidly closing if families are to survive the winter “with dignity.” Meanwhile, FAO Representative Richard Trenchard underscored that creating dependable income is essential in preparing communities to withstand future shocks.
Ashish Damle, Save the Children’s Country Director in Afghanistan, warned that the country is trapped in a “deadly” hunger crisis with “no end in sight,” as humanitarian needs rise while critical aid funding dries up. Young people are projected to bear the heaviest burdens, as roughly 4.04 million children under five will require treatment for acute malnutrition in 2027—a 9 percent increase from 2026. Severe acute malnutrition is forecast to surge by 16 percent in the coming year, rising from 942,000 in 2026 to 1.1 million in 2027.
With winter approaching, Damle stressed that harsh weather conditions will make survival even harder for children already facing acute malnutrition.“Our doctors and nurses witness the devastating consequences of the hunger crisis every day: malnourished children arriving at our clinics, mothers going hungry so their families have something to eat, and parents desperately seeking help as their children’s health deteriorates,” said Damle.
Despite recent rainfall improvements and promising harvests, widespread unemployment and weak purchasing power still keep adequate nutrition out of reach for most families, even when it is available. Conditions are compounded by the return of over 1.2 million Afghans from Iran and Pakistan in 2026, further stretching already limited resources.
“I saw firsthand that this crisis is not simply about whether food exists, but whether people can afford it, whether they can earn an income, access basic services, or whether they have anything left to fall back on when the next shock comes,” said Olga Cherevko, Spokesperson for the Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA). She added that years of conflict, economic instability, and climate shocks have severely eroded community resilience, leaving families with little capacity to adapt to new shocks.
Cherevko highlighted the Taliban’s systematic exclusion of women and girls from education and public life as a primary driver of the crisis. Figures from the United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF) show that Afghanistan stands to lose up to 20,000 women teachers and 5,400 female health workers by the end of the decade. She emphasized that barring women and girls from society has alarming implications for access to healthcare, dietary diversity, education, and the ability to sustain livelihoods.
On October 15, the UN Assistance Mission in Afghanistan (UNAMA) issued a report detailing the persistence of human rights abuses between July and September. During this period, UNAMA documented over 50 cases of women arrested or detained relating to the hijab. Women continue to be barred from accessing health clinics and markets without a male guardian (mahram).
The mission also recorded around 443 cases of arbitrary detention and 97 instances of ill-treatment over minor infractions such as hijab violations, trimmed beards, skipped prayers, and listening to music. It further documented public corporal punishments of 28 individuals, including six women, and the detention of 14 former security force members, with at least four others killed.
Beyond individual rights, Afghanistan has also experienced a severe breakdown of civic space conditions over the past year, marked by the arbitrary suspension of multiple media outlets without clear reasons or opportunities for appeal. New legislation enacted in August bans all demonstrations and protests, effectively silencing civilian dissent across the country.
Cherevko emphasized the need for sustained, expanded humanitarian aid while calling for strategic investments in long-term resilience. She highlighted agriculture, rural livelihoods, local markets, employment, water systems, and health services as key areas for investment, stressing that expanding opportunities for women in the workforce is essential in building communities that are less dependent on emergency assistance.
“We cannot keep asking humanitarian aid to compensate indefinitely for the absence of economic opportunity and essential public services. We must act before winter, not after families have exhausted their options,” said Cherevko.
Ground operations remain significantly constrained due to persistent funding shortfalls. According to OCHA, as of mid-September, the agency had received just 31 percent of the funding needed to support Afghanistan’s 21.9 million vulnerable people. Earlier in August, WFP warned that these shortfalls had forced nutrition programs to scale back when they are needed the most, leaving more children at risk of being malnourished.
Despite these shortfalls, the UN and its partners continue to work on the ground to deliver emergency and essential services, reaching roughly 8.3 million people with at least one form of assistance between January and July.
IPS UN Bureau Report
VICTORIA, Seychelles, Oct 21 2026 (IPS) - When you grow up on a small island, the ocean is not scenery. It is your neighbour, your livelihood, and the measure of time itself. For decades, as I walked the beaches of Seychelles, I watched the subtle shifts that scientists were warning the world about. The tide crept a little higher up the sand each year. After a warm season, vibrant coral gardens turned ghost-white. Storms that once belonged to rare memory began arriving with unsettling regularity.
James Alix Michel
No one can afford that illusion anymore.
What began on our island shores has arrived at the heart of every continent. The floods that submerge towns, the relentless heatwaves across Asia and the Americas, the droughts parching African farmlands, and the wildfires darkening the skies of the northern hemisphere all tell the exact same story. Small islands were never a separate case; we were simply the planet’s early warning system. Today, the alarm bell is ringing in every home. No nation, however vast its territory or deep its treasury, can build a wall high enough to shut out a warming world.
Next month, from 9 to 20 November, world leaders and negotiators will gather on the Mediterranean coast in Antalya, Türkiye, for the 31st United Nations Climate Change Conference (COP31). The summit carries an unusual and promising diplomatic architecture: Türkiye will host the gathering and hold the Presidency, while Australia leads the negotiations, fresh from partnering with Fiji and Tuvalu to host the Pre-COP meetings in the Pacific. Having Pacific island voices help shape the road to Antalya is a welcome sign.
Yet as the countdown begins, the overarching question hanging over COP31 is not whether the world can draft another eloquent communiqué. It is a much simpler, sharper question: will we finally keep our promises?
Türkiye’s Presidency has rightly framed Antalya as an “Implementation COP”. That label must mean something in practice, because the global climate process is facing a profound test of trust. Across the Global South, and especially among small islands and least developed countries, there is a deep and justified fatigue. Summit after summit produces historic pledges—on cutting emissions, on adaptation funds, on compensating for loss and damage—only for those commitments to stall in a maze of bureaucracy and broken timelines.
Trust in international diplomacy is not built by the grandeur of a pledge made before television cameras. It is built when resources actually reach the fishing village rebuilding its sea wall, or the farmer adapting to shifting rains. If Antalya is to restore faith in multilateralism, three imperatives must guide the leaders gathering there on 11 and 12 November.
First, climate finance must move from paper to people. For too many vulnerable countries, accessing climate funds feels like running an obstacle course designed for them to fail. Initiatives like the new Climate Implementation Bridge—developed by the Presidency and the UN Development Programme to connect national climate plans with real financing—are a step in the right direction. But we need speed, simplicity, and scale. Adaptation and loss and damage funding are not acts of charity from the rich to the poor; they are investments in global stability.
Second, we cannot talk honestly about climate resilience without confronting the crushing burden of sovereign debt. It is a cruel paradox of our time that the nations which contributed least to global emissions are forced to borrow heavily just to rebuild after climate disasters they did not cause. How can a government invest in a green transition or coastal defences when its revenues are swallowed by debt servicing?
We already know that innovative solutions exist when there is political courage. In Seychelles, we pioneered the world’s first sovereign debt-for-nature swap designed for ocean conservation, alongside the world’s first sovereign Blue Bond. We showed that you can relieve fiscal pressure while legally protecting vast stretches of marine territory. What small islands proved on a modest scale must now become a standard tool of the international financial system.
Third, the ocean must move from the margins of climate negotiations to the very centre. For too long, the ocean was treated as a silent victim of climate change rather than our greatest ally in stopping it. The sea covers more than 70 percent of our planet, absorbs the vast majority of excess heat, and locks away immense quantities of carbon in its mangroves, seagrass meadows, and marine ecosystems.
COP31 has dedicated a thematic day on 18 November to oceans, coastal resilience, and the blue economy. That is encouraging, but the ocean cannot be confined to a single day on the calendar. Protecting marine biodiversity, unlocking blue carbon finance, and connecting the UNFCCC process with the new High Seas Treaty (BBNJ) are essential if we want to keep the 1.5-degree goal alive.
During my years in public life, and in the years since, I have learned that leadership is ultimately tested when the gap between words and reality grows too wide to ignore. We are at that moment now.
In Antalya, small island states will once again raise their voices with clarity and determination. We will speak of our reefs, our coastlines, and our children’s heritage. But make no mistake: we are not pleading only for ourselves. The ocean that washes the shores of islands is the same ocean that regulates the climate of London, Istanbul, Sydney, and New York.
The tide is rising for all of us. COP31 is our chance to show that humanity can rise to meet it—not with another round of promises, but with the courage to deliver.
James Alix Michel is a former President of Seychelles, a Blue Economy pioneer and a champion of ocean protection.
IPS UN Bureau
KABUL, Afghanistan, Oct 20 2026 (IPS) - Nearly 40 percent of the population of Afghanistan is projected to face high levels of acute food insecurity this winter, and cases of acute malnutrition are expected to soar during 2027, the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations (FAO) and the United Nations World Food Programme (WFP) warned.
This is according to the latest Integrated Food Security Phase Classification (IPC) analysis, which projects that approximately 19.2 million people (38% of the population) will face high levels of acute food insecurity during the November-April lean season, which lasts through the winter. This is an increase from 17.4 million projected for the same period a year earlier.
An estimated five million of those who are acutely food insecure will be facing emergency levels of hunger (IPC Phase 4) – double the number projected for April-September 2026 – meaning immediate food assistance and urgent emergency agriculture support are needed to prevent deaths and total livelihood collapse. The most severe classifications are projected in Badakhshan, Badghis, Daykundi, Ghor, Samangan, Sar-e-Pul and rural Ghazni.
Acute malnutrition is beginning to define the crisis in Afghanistan with mothers and children at the forefront. Malnutrition cases are expected to increase by nearly 10 percent compared to 2026 to four million. One-quarter of these are expected to be severe and life-threatening. Prevention and treatment services are lagging well behind despite cases increasing, leaving women and particularly children more exposed.
The crisis in Afghanistan is being driven by several shocks that are affecting Afghan families and the humanitarian response. More than 1.2 million Afghans have been forced to return home from Iran and Pakistan this year, adding pressure to already overstretched communities. Border closures and disruptions to shipping through the Strait of Hormuz and other critical trade routes are also driving up prices for basic goods. At the same time, dramatic funding shortfalls are limiting humanitarian assistance just as needs are growing. All these issues are converging to drive hunger and malnutrition higher, particularly as winter approaches.
Improved harvests have not restored families’ access to nutritious food
Favorable rainfall supported crop production and pasture recovery in 2026, benefiting many farming households. The anticipated El Niño season could also bring above-average rainfall, helping replenish water sources, restore pasture and support winter and spring crops. Timely agricultural support could help farmers turn favorable conditions into food and income, but rainfall alone will not secure the next harvest. High fertilizer and agricultural input costs and low crop prices may force poorer farmers to plant less or use fewer inputs. Wetter conditions also increase the risk of localized flooding, erosion, crop damage and plant and animal disease.
However, improved harvests and greater food availability are not necessarily translating into improved food security. Persistent unemployment means many families who do not grow their own food cannot afford a nutritious diet, even when food is available. Winter will bring fewer opportunities for agricultural work, further reducing incomes and increasing the need for humanitarian assistance.
Scale up support before needs deepen further
FAO and WFP are calling for urgent funding to scale up food assistance, emergency agricultural support, and malnutrition prevention and treatment. Support must reach families before winter restricts access to vulnerable communities and farmers miss critical planting windows. Afghanistan cannot afford another year of worsening hunger and malnutrition.
Richard Trenchard, FAO Representative in Afghanistan:
“This year’s strong harvest shows what Afghan farmers can achieve. But for a parent with no steady income, nutritious food in the market can still be out of reach for their family. The drumbeat of shock and crisis is relentless, but we know progress is possible. Past experience shows that timely, targeted food and emergency agricultural assistance can bring acute food insecurity down. Helping families grow or afford nutritious food for their children can also help prevent malnutrition long before children need treatment. We need to scale up these practical solutions now, act ahead of foreseeable shocks and invest in processing and local agribusinesses that connect farmers to markets and create jobs. Families need support to get through this winter and opportunities to earn a dependable living that helps them withstand the next shock.”
John Aylieff, WFP Country Director in Afghanistan
“Hunger and malnutrition are tightening their grip on Afghanistan’s families, pushing more people towards the brink just as resources to respond are running short. This crisis is increasingly being defined by the gap between growing needs and shrinking funding. We still have a window to act, but it is closing fast. With urgent support, families can get through the winter with dignity. Without it, many will face impossible choices no parent should have to make.”
IPS UN Bureau
Excerpt:
High food and transport costs, scarce work and declining humanitarian assistance are squeezing families’ access to food as winter approaches.
PARWAN, Afghanistan, Oct 20 2026 (IPS) - Afghan women have resorted to online protests as their only available recourse, even though the risks of being caught are high and carry enormous consequences.
Dawn has not yet fully broken over the quiet streets of Parwan. The morning air carries the stillness of the early hours, and the footsteps of a few passersby are the only sounds that break the silence.
In one of the town’s more modest homes lives 28-year-old Gulsuum (name changed), who is effectively living two lives.
To her neighbors, she is a quiet young woman who goes out to buy food, lives with her family, and tries to lead an ordinary life. Yet behind this facade is a person fighting, under a pseudonym, for the education, freedom, and human dignity of Afghan women.
"Sometimes I wonder if we will ever see the results of our efforts, if this path is worth all the fear and uncertainty. But whenever I think of the girls who have been denied the right to go to school, I know I must go on. If we stay silent today, the next generation might lose even the hope of protesting"
She uses the name Gulsuum to protect her identity. Her fears, hopes, and life story, however, are entirely real.
Gulsuum lives with her father, mother, aunt, and two brothers in a residential area of Parwan province. Her unmarried aunt has long been an integral part of the family.
Only her aunt knows Gulsuum’s secretHer aunt has not only kept Gulsuum’s secret but has also supported her during her most difficult moments. She lets Gulsuum use her mobile phone when needed, keeps an eye on the situation, and warns her immediately if she senses danger.
Gulsuum’s biggest worry is her older brother. The reason lies in his traditional views: he considers women’s protests dangerous. Gulsuum is certain that if her brother found out about her activities, he would take away her phone, restrict her movements, or send her to live with relatives in another province.
Before the Taliban returned to power, Gulsuum studied law and taught at a private school. Back then, her life revolved around books, pens, and the voices of her students.
“My entire life was bound up with books, writing, and the classroom. I believed that Afghanistan’s future would be built by girls who could transform society through knowledge and education, not weapons.”
After the Taliban returned to power, universities and girls’ schools across Afghanistan were shut down one by one. The private school where Gulsuum taught ceased operations, and her own studies came to an end as well.
Gulsuum’s gaze drifts to the corner of the room, where her university books still sit on the shelf.
“My books are still there, but there is no longer a classroom, no students, and no dream I can pursue the way I used to.”
Gulsuum says she remained silent during the first few months, fearing arrest and that her family would be put in danger.
“But whenever I heard about the arrests of female protesters or girls being denied an education, I asked myself: Is silence, too, a form of surrender?”
That question changed the course of her life.
“Two years ago, a university friend introduced me to the Kabul Critical Thinking Movement. At first, I only followed the movement’s statements and writings. Gradually, I began participating in its online meetings under a pseudonym, and later, I became one of its active members.”
Most of the movement’s activities take place on its official Facebook page, where statements, campaigns, and public messages are published.
Even a small mistake could endanger everythingTo protect their identities, members never share material on their own social media accounts. Instead, they record images and videos independently and submit them for publication via the movement’s official page. Pseudonyms are used to protect the identities of those involved.
Many images and videos are recorded indoors or in locations with few or no other people present. Members wear face masks, sunglasses, and black chadari robes to minimize the risk of being identified.
Gulsuum explains that every action requires careful planning and an assessment of potential risks, as even a single protest could lead to consequences for both her and her family.
“Every decision I make, every phone call, and every message I send could have serious consequences. My phone is protected by multiple passwords. I carefully manage messages, photos, and anything else that could put me in danger. I never reveal the identities of other members or where we meet to anyone. Even a small mistake could endanger my life and the lives of my family members.”
Gulsuum says she sometimes wonders whether her brothers, who browse through her phone, have found out about her activities.
“A moment later, I realize nothing has happened. They were just scrolling through social media. But those few minutes feel like hours to me. Fear has become a part of my everyday life.”
Once, while walking through the city, she noticed a Taliban pickup truck a few blocks behind her. She told a passing woman she was thirsty and was invited into her home for tea. The vehicle was still nearby when she left, but she was relieved to learn that Taliban members had rented a house in the neighborhood a few days earlier. The truck had nothing to do with her.
“I could breathe again, and I realized that sometimes fear paralyzes us long before any danger is even in sight. Every unknown call, every suspicious glance, and every unexpected question brings a new wave of fear. But I don’t think fear should define the lives of Afghan women.”
Despite fear, activism continuesDespite her fears, Gulsuum has not given up her activism.
“Sometimes I wonder if we will ever see the results of our efforts, if this path is worth all the fear and uncertainty. But whenever I think of the girls who have been denied the right to go to school, I know I must go on. If we stay silent today, the next generation might lose even the hope of protesting.”
The chadari robe she wears at demonstrations is more than just a garment.
“Every evening, I tuck it away in the corner of my room. Whenever I hide it, it feels as though I am concealing a part of my identity, my dreams, and my true life from the eyes of others.”
Gulsuum’s voice is calm, devoid of hesitation.
“I believe that no voice raised for justice goes to waste. Change may not happen today. But if no one speaks, there is no hope for tomorrow.”
“What matters most to me is that the world knows Afghan women, even under the most intense pressure, continue to stand up for freedom, justice, and human dignity. Our voice may be quiet, but it will never be silenced.”
Gulsuum’s story is not that of just one woman. It reflects the lives of thousands of Afghan women and girls, caught between fear and hope, continue the fight for education, freedom of choice, and human dignity.
Beneath the black chadar worn for safety, her voice still rings out. It is quiet, yet unwavering. Despite everything, that voice has not been silenced.
Excerpt:
The author is an Afghanistan-based female journalist, trained with Finnish support before the Taliban take-over. Her identity is withheld for security reasons
PORTLAND, USA, Oct 20 2026 (IPS) - People who choose to end their lives through voluntary assisted dying typically face terminal, incurable, or debilitating conditions that cause severe physical or psychological suffering.
Research on requests for medical assistance in dying and euthanasia shows that most individuals seeking these options have advanced, irreversible illnesses or incurable, debilitating conditions that cause severe suffering or diminish their autonomy, dignity, or the ability to engage in meaningful activities.
Despite becoming legally permitted in an increasing number of countries, voluntary assisted dying remains controversial. The debate centers on a fundamental tension between respecting personal autonomy and relieving suffering, on the one hand, and protecting human life, on the other
Although physical pain is an important factor, psychological, existential, and quality-of-life concerns also play major roles in decisions to end life. These include losing independence and physical abilities, losing control over bodily functions, depending on others for basic care, and fearing future pain, suffering, and distress during the final stages of an illness.
Eligibility requirements for medical assistance in dying vary by jurisdiction. Where access is restricted to terminally ill patients, individuals generally must have a prognosis of six months or less to live.
Other jurisdictions permit access under different eligibility criteria. Applicants generally must demonstrate decision-making capacity and make a voluntary, informed request. Independent medical assessments are generally required, and many jurisdictions impose waiting periods or other safeguards.
Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS), cancer, and other serious illnesses are frequently associated with requests for voluntary assisted dying. Other requests involve advanced cardiovascular and lung diseases, as well as neurodegenerative conditions, including Alzheimer’s disease and other forms of dementia.
Cancer, particularly when advanced and no longer responsive to treatment, can also involve severe pain, weakness, loss of function, and other debilitating symptoms. Other requests for voluntary assisted dying include terminal illnesses such as advanced cardiovascular and lung diseases and neurodegenerative conditions, such as Alzheimer’s disease and other forms of dementia.
Severe physical pain or psychological distress that cannot be adequately relieved through standard medical or palliative care may lead some people to consider ending their lives. However, the reasons for requesting voluntary assisted dying generally extend beyond physical pain alone.
Loss of autonomy, including the inability to engage in meaningful activities, care for oneself, or maintain personal dignity, may strongly influence these decisions. Some individuals also fear increasing dependence on family members or caregivers, losing control over basic aspects of daily life, or experiencing further deterioration in their quality of life.
Decisions about ending one’s life are often complex, reflecting a combination of medical, psychological, social, and personal considerations. For some individuals, the prospect of prolonged deterioration or increasing dependence may be as important as the symptoms of the underlying illness.
Consequently, requests for voluntary assisted dying generally require careful assessment of an individual’s medical condition, decision-making capacity, wishes, and available alternatives, including palliative and hospice care.
When people actively choose the timing and manner of their death, their choices generally fall into three primary categories, each governed by different legal frameworks, medical protocols, and procedures.
These categories differ principally in who administers the life-ending medication, whether the person must take the medication themselves, and whether the choice involves voluntarily forgoing food and fluids rather than receiving life-ending medication (Table 1).
Source: Compassion & Choices.
The first category is medical aid in dying (MAID), also known as physician-assisted dying or, in some jurisdictions, death with dignity. MAID allows a mentally capable, terminally ill adult who meets specific legal requirements to request and self-administer prescribed medication intended to end their life. In many U.S. jurisdictions where MAID is legal, eligibility generally requires a terminal illness with a prognosis of six months or less, although specific requirements vary by jurisdiction.
The emphasis on self-administration is an important distinction between MAID and voluntary euthanasia. Under MAID, the individual—not a physician or other health professional—takes the medication, retaining control over the timing of the final act. Depending on the jurisdiction, safeguards may include repeated requests, confirmation of the diagnosis and prognosis, assessment of decision-making capacity, and other measures to ensure the decision is voluntary and informed.
MAID is generally intended for people who meet specific legal eligibility requirements. It is not a general option for anyone experiencing suffering or wishing to die. Each jurisdiction determines who qualifies, what medical assessments are required, how requests must be documented, and what waiting periods and other safeguards apply.
The second category is voluntary euthanasia. Unlike MAID, which involves self-administration, voluntary euthanasia occurs when a healthcare professional administers medication intended to end the patient’s life at the individual’s explicit and competent request, typically to relieve otherwise intolerable suffering. It is legally permitted in several countries and jurisdictions, although eligibility requirements, procedures, and safeguards vary considerably.
The third category is voluntarily stopping eating and drinking (VSED). For people who do not qualify for MAID or live where MAID or voluntary euthanasia is unavailable, VSED may be another end-of-life option. It involves a voluntary decision to stop consuming food and fluids, eventually resulting in death. Medical and palliative care may be provided to relieve discomfort during the process.
Voluntary assisted dying is legally permitted in a growing number of countries. In 2026, some form of the practice is legal in approximately 16 countries. Estimates indicate that more than 30,000 people die each year through voluntary assisted dying in jurisdictions where the practice is permitted.
Nearly 5% of the world’s population, or more than 400 million people, live in countries or areas where some form of voluntary assisted dying is legal. These jurisdictions include Australia, Austria, Belgium, Canada, Colombia, Ecuador, France, Germany, Luxembourg, the Netherlands, New Zealand, Portugal, Spain, Switzerland, and Uruguay.
In the United States, Illinois and New York recently joined 11 other states and the District of Columbia in permitting medical aid in dying (MAID) under specified conditions. Nearly one-third of the U.S. population lives in a state where the practice is permitted.
About 60% of U.S. adults consider MAID acceptable or do not view it as a moral issue. Opinions differ by political party, however. About 75% of Democrats compared with 50% of Republicans consider the practice morally acceptable.
Across many regions, including North America, Europe, and Australia, international opinion polls generally find majority support for voluntary assisted dying. A cross-sectional survey of physicians in 17 countries also found nuanced but generally supportive views of physician-assisted death when strict safeguards are in place.
Methods of administering medication also vary across jurisdictions. In Switzerland, individuals self-administer the medication, usually by swallowing a liquid. In Québec, Canada, physicians or nurse practitioners administer it, usually intravenously. In Australia, both self-administration and practitioner administration are permitted.
The laws governing voluntary assisted dying differ considerably across countries and jurisdictions. Nevertheless, the medical conditions and personal circumstances associated with requests for assisted dying tend to show similar patterns across regions and over time.
People with ALS, for example, have been found to have the highest rate of voluntary assisted dying, often several times those of cancer patients. Cancer patients, in turn, are more likely to access voluntary assisted dying than people with other illnesses, such as lung or heart disease. However, cancer remains the most common diagnosis among assisted dying cases, largely because it affects far more people than these other conditions.
Voluntary assisted dying accounts for a relatively small share of all deaths in countries where it is permitted, generally 1% or less in countries such as Germany, Spain, and Switzerland. In other countries, the proportions are considerably higher. Around 2023, assisted dying accounted for 5.4% of deaths in the Netherlands, 4.7% in Canada, and 3.6% in Belgium.
The number of voluntary assisted deaths has increased substantially in some countries. In the Netherlands, for example, the number has reportedly increased threefold since 2002. In Canada, the number initially increased rapidly before growth slowed; assisted dying now accounts for nearly 5% of all deaths.
Despite becoming legally permitted in an increasing number of countries, voluntary assisted dying remains controversial. The debate centers on a fundamental tension between respecting personal autonomy and relieving suffering, on the one hand, and protecting human life, on the other (Table 2).
Source: British Medical Association (BMA).
Arguments in favor of voluntary assisted dying emphasize patient autonomy, relief from suffering, dignity at the end of life, regulatory safeguards, and reduced burdens on families. Arguments against it stress the sanctity of life, risks to vulnerable people, the potential for a “slippery slope”, concerns about medical ethics, and the importance of palliative care.
In sum, voluntary assisted dying is legally permitted in a growing number of countries and jurisdictions, and its use has increased substantially in many of them. Nevertheless, voluntary assisted dying remains a sensitive, controversial, and deeply personal issue, even where it is legally permitted.
Joseph Chamie is a consulting demographer, a former director of the United Nations Population Division, and author of numerous publications on population issues.