NEW YORK, Apr 28 2026 (IPS) - The veil has been lifted—but not the one you think.

Not the veil the West has spent decades weaponizing. The veil now exposed is the one that concealed Western feminism’s selective solidarity—its silence on the women it was never truly fighting for. The “othering” of women from the South West Asian and North African region. In other words: us.

In Against White Feminism, Rafia Zakaria offers a powerful critique of how mainstream feminism often reinforces white supremacist, colonial, and patriarchal logics. The suffering of women of color becomes useful—deployable.

The image of the veiled, victimized woman, waiting to be saved, has long justified wars, interventions, and foreign policies driven not by liberation, but by imperial ambition. When these women resist on their own terms, they are ignored or discredited.

This pattern is not new. It is structural. Discrimination is embedded in the system. Palestine has simply made it undeniable. The silence that followed stripped away any remaining illusion that “we are in this together.” Feminist solidarity, it turns out, has limits—and some of us were never included.

That is the veil we lift today.

We speak as Arab women aged 50–65, activists and feminists with over a century of combined experience across 90 countries. We now live in the United States, where these contradictions are stark. We have paid a price for insisting on integrity. So have many others.

Across conversations with colleagues and communities, the message is consistent: the system is not broken—it functions exactly as designed.

Early feminist movements everywhere have grappled with patriarchy, sometimes resisting it, sometimes accommodating it. In the West, this struggle has often aligned uncomfortably with white supremacy.

In formerly colonized regions, patriarchy cannot be separated from colonialism, racism, or imperialism. These systems are intertwined; dismantling one requires confronting them all. This is where Western feminism consistently falls short.

Today, little has changed. The language is more polished. The imagery more diverse. But the underlying structures—and the values sustaining them—remain intact. Nowhere is this clearer than in how women from the South West Asian and North African region are treated by movements that claim to champion them.

The same logic that invoked Afghan women to justify military intervention now watches Palestinian women document their own destruction while offering silence—or excuses.

The data reflects this reality.

In the United States, anti-Muslim and anti-Arab discrimination rose sharply in 2024. The Council on American-Islamic Relations recorded 8,658 complaints—the highest since it began tracking in 1996. Employment discrimination alone accounted for 15.4% of cases. In 2025, these numbers climbed again. Rhetoric has consequences.

But numbers only tell part of the story. Women’s voices tell the rest.

One Arab aid worker described being sidelined after speaking publicly about Palestine following October 7:

“When I spoke about Ukrainian women, it was welcomed. When I spoke about Palestinian women, it was suppressed. I lost my work.”

Others describe being silenced on social media, accused of saying too much—or too little. Some were advised to remove their hijab for safety. Others were warned to avoid expressing views altogether to protect institutional reputations.

Yet another was denied the right to exercise leadership among her own staff, because as a Muslim from the Arab region, her ability to clearly articulate opinions, exercise judgement, and make decisions, was deemed ‘abusive’. One woman was denied employment because her call for “ceasefire and humanitarian aid” was deemed “too political.”

Western feminism often recoils at these truths. Yet Palestine is not only a political issue—it is a feminist one. All struggles against oppression are interconnected. Justice cannot be selective, even if its application often is.

Feminism demands confronting power, violence, and dehumanization wherever they occur. Palestinian women live at the intersection of multiple forms of oppression—patriarchy, occupation, militarization—and resist across all of them.

A feminism that ignores this reality is not feminism. It is complicity.

As Teju Cole describes, this is the logic of the “white savior industrial complex.” It operates through what can be called gendered orientalism: women from the South West Asian and North African region are portrayed as victims of culture, religion, or men—but rarely of bombs, sanctions, or occupation. This framing preserves the West as liberator while erasing its role in producing violence.

In the United States, the language differs but the outcome is the same. Conservatives fear Islam; liberals seek to save us from it. Both deny our agency. Both silence our voices.

We are rarely represented as we are: organizers, scholars, community leaders, mothers, activists, feminists.

This silence must be named clearly. It is not neutrality. It is complicity.

The credibility of any feminist movement rests on whether it stands with all women—especially when doing so is politically inconvenient.

We have paid the price for this failure: in erasure, in exclusion, in lost friends, in being told our grief is too complex and our politics too divisive.

What passes for solidarity is often conditional. It appears when it costs nothing and disappears when it demands accountability. Women from the South West Asia and North Africa were welcomed when our oppression reinforced dominant narratives. We became inconvenient when our liberation required confronting Western power itself.

Kimberlé Crenshaw introduced intersectionality to describe how overlapping identities produce compounded forms of discrimination. What we are witnessing now is an intersectional crisis: women from those regions face discrimination based simultaneously on race, religion, gender, and geopolitics. The very movement best equipped to confront this has gone largely silent.

From decades of work in conflict settings, one truth is clear: women from South West Asia and North Africa do not need to be singled out for ‘saving’.

We need the violence to stop.

We need colleagues to speak our names when it is difficult. We need those marching for human rights to recognize that feminism that excludes Gaza, Beirut, or Tehran is neither feminism nor human rights. It is branding—a convenient narrative that avoids confronting deeper structures of power.

Palestine has revealed a deeper truth: these systems were never designed to serve everyone. They were built by—and for—those in power.

What is required now is not reform at the margins, but a reckoning.

Solidarity demands accountability. If women’s rights are human rights, then they must apply to all women—without exception.

Lina AbiRafeh – Better4Women – Azza Karam and Henia Dakkak– Lead Integrity: House of Wisdom.

IPS UN Bureau

  

COLOMBO, Sri Lanka, Apr 28 2026 (IPS) - As delegates from 191 countries, including the five permanent members of the UN Security Council, gathered Monday at UN headquarters for a month of diplomacy at the Review Conference of the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT), the stakes could hardly be higher.

They meet in the shadow of a war of choice, waged by the United States and Israel against Iran—ostensibly to prevent nuclear proliferation. It is a war steeped in tragedy and laced with irony. The human toll and global economic costs speak for themselves.

The irony is starker.

The United States, a principal depositary of the NPT, unilaterally caused the collapse of a UN-authorised agreement it had itself initiated to verify Iran’s non-nuclear status—the JCPOA. Having done that, the US, alongside Israel—a state that rejects the NPT—now bombs a hitherto NPT-compliant Iran to achieve the same end: a non-nuclear Iran.

This oxymoronic irony lies at the heart of America’s war of choice. Waged in the name of non-proliferation, it may accelerate the very outcome it seeks to avoid. By demonstrating that even a state short of nuclear weapons can be subjected to unilateral unauthorised force, Washington risks sending a stark message: survival may depend not on restraint and diplomacy, but on possession of the bomb.

This paradox exposes a longstanding fragility in the global nuclear matrix. Built around the NPT and the International Atomic Energy Agency’s safeguards regime, it rests on a bargain: non-nuclear states forgo weapons in exchange for security assurances, access to peaceful nuclear technology and good-faith progress towards disarmament.

This system, discriminatory but functional, endures only so long as it is seen as credible. When a treaty-compliant non-nuclear state becomes the target of military action over suspected ambitions, that credibility erodes.

At the centre of this erosion is the doctrine of nuclear deterrence. Before the conflict, Iran’s posture was widely understood as “hedging”—developing technical capacity without crossing the weapons threshold.

This allowed Tehran to retain leverage while avoiding the full costs of weaponisation. But hedging depends on a shared understanding: that ambiguity will be tolerated—or at least not punished with illegal use of force.

War shatters that assumption. The lesson is stark: nuclear latency does not deter attack; nuclear possession might. The comparison with North Korea is instructive. Its overt arsenal has largely insulated it from large-scale intervention despite decades of hostility with Washington.

For policymakers in Tehran—and elsewhere—the implication is difficult to ignore. If ambiguity invites vulnerability, clarity in the form of a deterrent may appear rational. Nuclear weapons risk being recast from political liabilities into strategic necessities.

The damage extends beyond Iran. The non-proliferation regime has long depended on the belief that compliance will not be punished. Yet recent history has already weakened that assumption. Ukraine relinquished the world’s third-largest nuclear arsenal in the 1990s in exchange for security assurances, only to face Russian invasion decades later.

Libya abandoned its programme and soon after saw regime collapse following the US initiated external intervention. These precedents have chipped away at trust.

Against this backdrop, war with Iran reinforces a troubling pattern: states without nuclear weapons appear vulnerable, while those with them appear secure. This is the opposite of what the non-proliferation regime is meant to uphold.

Officials at the IAEA have warned such dynamics could trigger a “domino effect”, with multiple countries reconsidering their options. Across the Middle East and beyond, governments are quietly reassessing their assumptions.

Military aggression also reshapes domestic politics in ways that complicate non-proliferation. External pressure strengthens hardliners while marginalising advocates of engagement. This is not unintended but predictable. Hardliners are less inclined toward compromise and more likely to view nuclear weapons as essential to survival.

The space for diplomacy narrows as nuclearisation gains appeal. War, in other words, transforms not just capabilities but preferences.

There is also a practical limit to military solutions. Airstrikes can damage or even ‘obliterate’ facilities, but they cannot erase knowledge. Scientific expertise cannot be bombed out of existence. Indeed, intervention may accelerate the very processes it seeks to halt by pushing them underground. A programme once visible to inspectors may become more secretive and harder to monitor.

The regional implications are equally concerning. The Middle East is already marked by rivalry and fragile security arrangements. An Iranian move towards nuclear weapons—especially one accelerated by conflict—would likely prompt countervailing responses.

Saudi Arabia and Turkey have both signalled they would not remain passive. The result could be a cascading arms race, turning an already volatile region into a multipolar nuclear environment.

This is a classic security dilemma: one state’s attempt to enhance its security leaves others feeling less secure, prompting reciprocal measures that leave all worse off. By seeking to eliminate a potential threat through unauthorised force, the United States may multiply such threats. Instead of one threshold state, the region could face several.

These dynamics point to a deeper flaw: the belief that military force can resolve nuclear proliferation. Nuclear ambition is not merely technical; it is a political response to insecurity. Bombing addresses symptoms, not causes.

Without addressing the security concerns that drive states towards nuclear capabilities, coercion alone cannot produce lasting results. All successful non-proliferation goals-ranging from NPT to JCPOA- were reached through calculated diplomatic negotiations, not by military means.

Past experience underscores this. Diplomatic agreements, however imperfect, have constrained nuclear programmes. The collapse of the JCPOA removed mechanisms that had limited Iran’s activities. In the absence of a credible diplomatic alternative, military action amounts to little more than a delay—buying time at the cost of increasing long-term incentives to pursue nuclear weapons.

The war also risks reinforcing the perception that international law is subordinate to power politics. If rules can be bypassed by powerful states, weaker ones are unlikely to rely on them. Instead, they may turn to capabilities that cannot easily be neutralised. Nuclear weapons become not just tools of deterrence, but symbols of sovereignty and survival.

Perhaps the most enduring impact will be psychological. States learn from precedent. From Iraq to Libya to Ukraine—and now Iran—a pattern appears: vulnerability invites intervention, while nuclear capability deters it. This conclusion may be uncomfortable, but it reflects a cold logic of international politics. Once such a perception takes hold, it is difficult to reverse.

For this reason, the war may prove a watershed moment not only for Iran but for the global non-proliferation regime. It alters perceptions of risk and security in ways that favour proliferation over restraint. Even states with no immediate intention of pursuing nuclear weapons may begin hedging against a future in which international guarantees appear unreliable.

The tragedy is that a policy intended to prevent proliferation may instead accelerate it. By undermining trust, empowering hardliners and reinforcing deterrence logic, the United States risks achieving the opposite of its stated aim. Even if military action sets back Iran’s programme in the short term, the long-term consequences may be far more damaging.

A more secretive, more determined and more widely emulated pursuit of nuclear weapons would not represent a victory for non-proliferation. It would mark its gradual unravelling—an “own goal” in geopolitical terms.

If the aim of non-proliferation is to reduce the role of nuclear weapons, this conflict points in the opposite direction. It suggests that security cannot be reliably guaranteed by treaties or norms alone, and that in an uncertain world the ultimate insurance policy remains the bomb.

That message will resonate far beyond Iran. Its consequences may shape nuclear choices for decades.

The question the Iran war poses to the world is not polemical but stark: is it a new normal that a depositary state of the NPT and a covert nuclear power not party to the treaty can preclude diplomacy and bomb their way to non-proliferation?

If the current NPT Review Conference in New York, like its predecessor conferences, fails to reach consensus on the way forward for the Treaty’s three pillars—non-proliferation, peaceful nuclear cooperation based on sovereign equality, and disarmament—it will amount to an answer in the affirmative, to that question. This may then signal the onset of the treaty’s terminal decay.

HMGS Palihakkara is a former Sri Lankan Ambassador to United Nations; one time Chair /Member of UNSG Advisory Board on Disarmament; a member of the UN Intergovernmental Panel updating the ’Comprehensive Study on Nuclear Weapons’; Advisor to the President of the 1995 NPT Review & Extension Conference.

IPS UN Bureau

  

UNITED NATIONS, Apr 28 2026 (IPS) - The race for the next UN Secretary-General has, so far, attracted only four candidates—perhaps with more to come in an unpredictable contest.

But most of the candidates have played it safe – avoiding controversial issues and circumventing the wrath of the US whose veto can demolish the chances of any candidate by a single stroke in the Security Council.

The Trump administration has taken a vociferous stand against some the longstanding basic principles and goals advocated by the UN, including combating climate change, promoting gender empowerment and supporting equity and diversity in the world body.

“This ‘climate change,’ it’s the greatest con job ever perpetrated on the world, in my opinion,” Trump was quoted as saying.

“All of these predictions made by the United Nations and many others, often for bad reasons, were wrong. They were made by stupid people that have cost their countries fortunes and given those same countries no chance for success. If you don’t get away from this green scam, your country is going to fail.”

Trump has also initiated a comprehensive, government-wide rollback of Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) programs, signing executive orders in January and March 2026 to eliminate DEI offices, initiatives, and training in federal agencies and among contractors.

The policy emphasizes “merit-based” opportunities over DEI and gender empowerment goals, restricting federal funding in the US for, and requiring contractors to stop, “racially discriminatory” DEI activities.

Who, amongst the candidates, will publicly stand on these issues, defying the US?

As of last week, the four candidates vying to succeed António Guterres as the next UN Secretary-General, starting January 1, 2027 were:—Michelle Bachelet (Chile), Rafael Grossi (Argentina), Rebeca Grynspan (Costa Rica), and Macky Sall (Senegal).

Mandeep S. Tiwana, Secretary General CIVICUS, an alliance of civil society organizations, told Inter Press Service (IPS) the United Nations was born out of the horrors of the Second World War, which witnessed cruelty and human rights violations on a monumental scale.

“It is telling that the candidates’ vision skirted addressing impunity for genocide, war crimes, and crimes against humanity, the very violations that are weakening the promise of the United Nations today.”

Most candidates, he pointed out, come with years of experience within the system. But experience within a broken system is not the same as the capacity to repair it.

“What the world needs is not another politician or diplomat driven by pragmatism alone, but a leader with a moral vision grounded in a human rights framework, one willing to confront eye-watering inequality, the rise of misogyny, environmental degradation, and the normalization of might-is-right conduct in international affairs”, he said.

“Almost all presentations were made under the long shadow of a possible veto, a reality that shapes what candidates say and, more importantly, what they do not”.

Civil society has been actively calling for straw polls to be held at the General Assembly, giving member states beyond the Permanent P5 and the Elected E10 a formal opportunity to indicate their candidate preference.

That effort has not succeeded, he lamented, whether through a General Assembly resolution or any other mechanism, and that failure is its own indictment of how the selection process is structured.

People across the world need a leader who can drive change through their moral authority and serve as the conscience of the world. At this stage, each of the candidates could have done more to demonstrate that they possess the courage and conviction required to do that. said Tiwana.

Instead, they appeared to play to the gallery of powerful states when they could have been speaking to the people who need a functioning and relevant United Nations in the second quarter of the twenty-first century” declared Tiwana.

Ian G Williams, a longtime commentator covering the UN since 1989 and currently President of the Foreign Press Association (FPA), told IPS, so far, it’s a very uninspiring and, dare one say, “mature” field.

Maybe there should be as much pressure for “youth’s” turn, as there is for a woman, not least since both female candidates are of pensionable age. The “most difficult job in the world” is not one for Donald Trump’s contemporaries!

The hustings had four announced candidates, but as the Book of Proverbs says, “Where there is no vision, the people perish: but he that keepeth the law, happy is he.”

“None of the candidates offered a vision: their presentations had all the breadth and depth of an application for deputy head of corporate Human Resources,” said Williams, who covered four previous SG elections– BBG, Kofi, Ban and Guterres.

Even the candidates who showed signs of integrity, keeping the law, seem to be missing the vision thing and, frankly, keeping the law is a stretch for candidates who want to avoid a veto from the P5, he pointed out.

“So, in a field of lame horses, the three-legged one might limp home, and that could be Mackie Sall, who is not a woman, not Latin American and does not have the support of his own country or region. His big benefit is that he passes the traditional UN promotion test of not being remembered for anything in particular.”

In an in-depth analysis, Williams said Bachelet has the credentials, but for obvious reasons camouflaged her vision while Rebecca Grynspan is an uninspiring apparatchik who has presided over the effectual dismantlement of UNCTAD, the development agency that had been in the sights of Washington for decades.

While one cannot hold family connections against her, many countries might also worry about the optics of an SG whose sister is an Israeli settler in the West Bank. However, she is backed by her government unlike some other candidates.

Indeed, it could be a plus for Bachelet that Chile’s new reactionary government pulled its endorsement, just as the Argentine Grossi’s backing by Millei, and thus simplicity by Trump, is not exactly a vote winner.

Looking at the heavily handicapped slate so far, said Williams, it’s good that there are nominations waiting in the wings.

Barbadian PM Mia Amor Mottley would be an ideal candidate – ticking both the vision and law boxes. A woman from the Latin American and Caribbean region, (whose ”turn” it is for the position) and whose otherwise disqualifying integrity might pass the Trump test by speaking English and being accoladed by no less that the American Enterprise Institute! However, she has just won re-election in her homeland.

Another candidate who is reportedly waiting to declare, said Williams, is Ecuador’s María Fernanda Espinosa, former GA President, who is missing support from her own government, but has other supporters, is young, a woman and a Latin American and who has shown both vision and integrity.

However, he pointed out, the odds are against anyone desirable surviving the vetting and vetoing from this US administration, and they would be unlikely to survive scrutiny by Moscow or Beijing, Russia and China, pay lip service to the international order, and might be prepared to sacrifice their immediate prejudices for the greater good.

Overall, the question is whether the UN is redeemable without finding a way to bypass the veto. At one time the US realized the advantages of maintaining the UN as thin blue fig leaf for its actual hegemony, but it no longer sees the need to cover its rampant MAGAhood, declared Williams.

A list of former UN Secretaries-Generals follows:

• Ban Ki-moon (Republic of Korea) who served from January 2007 to December 2016;
• Kofi Annan (Ghana) who held office from January 1997 to December 2006;
• Boutros Boutros-Ghali (Egypt), who held office from January 1992 to December 1996;
• Javier Pèrez de Cuèllar (Peru), who served from January 1982 to December 1991;
• Kurt Waldheim (Austria), who held office from January 1972 to December 1981;
• U Thant (Burma, now Myanmar), who served from November 1961, when he was appointed acting Secretary-General (he was formally appointed Secretary-General in November 1962) to December 1971;
• Dag Hammarskjöld (Sweden), who served from April 1953 until his death in a plane crash in Africa in September 1961; and
• Trygve Lie (Norway), who held office from February 1946 to his resignation in November 1952.

IPS UN Bureau Report