By James Alix Michel
VICTORIA, Seychelles, Jun 29 2026 (IPS)
On the night of 29 June 1976, just before midnight, I stood among my fellow Seychellois at the heart of a moment that would change our history forever.
James Alix Michel
We were waiting for the British flag to come down and for our own flag to rise for the first time over an independent Seychelles.The air was heavy with expectation, pride, and a certain quiet anxiety: we were stepping into the unknown.
That night was emotional for me in a very personal way. After the new president had delivered his address, the president of my party – who would become Prime Minister at Independence – took the podium. At the end of his speech, he recited a poem I had written for our newspaper, entitled “Il est Minuit” – “It is midnight”. Hearing my own words spoken at that exact moment, when one era was ending and another beginning, was unforgettable. It felt as if the poem had become part of the birth certificate of our nation.
Fifty years later, as Seychelles celebrates its golden jubilee of Independence, I look back not only as a witness of that first midnight, but as someone who has walked alongside the country through many of its trials and transformations: from minister, to vice president, to president, and now as an advocate for the Blue Economy and for Small Island Developing States (SIDS) on the global stage.
From struggle to nationhood:
The struggle for Independence was our first great challenge. As a small colony in the Indian Ocean, it could have been easy to remain permanently on the periphery of history. Instead, the Seychellois chose to take responsibility for their own destiny. The transition from colonial rule to self government forged a strong sense of identity and duty. It taught us that freedom is not a one time event, but a continuous effort.
In the years after Independence, Seychelles experimented with different political paths, including one party rule and later a return to multi party democracy. These choices were often contentious, but they were part of our process of political maturation. As institutions evolved and multi party politics took root, we learned the value of dialogue, compromise and the rule of law. A young state was becoming a more confident republic.
2008: A turning point born of crisis:
One of the most defining moments in my own journey came in 2008. By then I was president, and Seychelles was facing a deep economic crisis. The global financial turmoil, combined with soaring oil and food prices, had almost exhausted our foreign reserves. The rupee was heavily overvalued, deficits were spiralling, and eventually the country missed a payment on its external debt.
In such moments, leadership is tested in very practical ways. On 31 October 2008, I took the decision to launch a comprehensive macroeconomic reform programme, supported by the International Monetary Fund. We floated the rupee, restructured the national debt, and imposed strict fiscal discipline. These were not popular measures; they required real sacrifice from the Seychellois people.
Yet that programme became a turning point. It stabilised our economy, restored credibility, and moved Seychelles towards a more modern, private sector led market system.
Looking back, I consider those reforms one of the most important achievements of my leadership. Without that foundation, many of the subsequent steps we took – in education, innovation and environmental policy – would have been far more difficult, if not impossible.
Pirates at sea, pressure on land:
Just as those economic reforms were taking root, a new and very different threat emerged. Somali pirates, heavily armed, began operating deep inside our Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ), hijacking local vessels, taking Seychellois fishermen hostage and frightening away cruise ships and fishing fleets. Our two main economic pillars – tourism and tuna fishing – were suddenly at risk.
For a small island state with 1.3 million square kilometres of ocean, this was an existential security challenge. We knew we could not police such a vast space alone. We therefore mounted an intense diplomatic effort to convince regional and global partners that securing the Western Indian Ocean was in everyone’s interest. Seychelles became a hub for anti piracy operations; our Coast Guard cooperated closely with foreign navies; and we adapted our domestic laws to prosecute and imprison pirates.
These were difficult years, but they showed that a small nation, if it acts with courage and clarity, can punch above its weight. We helped to restore security to our waters and protect the livelihoods of our people.
Meanwhile, a quieter but more permanent threat was taking shape: climate change. Coral bleaching, coastal erosion and rising sea levels were affecting our islands directly. Seychelles was facing an environmental crisis it had done little to create, while international climate finance for SIDS was still limited and slow.
From vulnerability to vision: the Blue Economy:
It was in this context that the idea of the Blue Economy began to crystallise. For years, I had been convinced that our future would be decided not only on land, but in the ocean that surrounds us. Seychelles has a small landmass but a vast maritime zone. If we could rethink the ocean as a space for sustainable development – not just for exploitation – we could turn vulnerability into opportunity.
When I began advocating publicly for the Blue Economy, there was scepticism at home and abroad. Some considered it too abstract, others thought it was merely a new label for old ideas. But we persisted in giving the concept substance: through marine spatial planning, through the designation of large marine protected areas, and through innovative mechanisms such as the debt for nature swap we concluded in 2014 with the Paris Club and The Nature Conservancy.
That agreement restructured part of our national debt in exchange for robust commitments to ocean conservation. It helped to fund protection for 30% of our waters and became a model for other countries. Seychelles, once seen only as a vulnerable small island state, was now recognised as a pioneer of the Blue Economy and of nature based solutions.
Investing in people
Economic and environmental reforms are only part of the story. I have always believed that the most important investment a country can make is in its people. That is why I supported the creation of the University of Seychelles, at a time when some argued that our nation was too small to have its own university. The aim was simple: to give Seychellois youth the chance to pursue tertiary education at home and build their future on their own soil.
We complemented this with initiatives like the Young Leaders Programme, designed to prepare promising young Seychellois for positions of responsibility, including through postgraduate studies.
For me, these efforts are as central to our Independence story as any economic reform or diplomatic achievement. Independence is not only about sovereignty; it is about giving every generation the tools to shape its own destiny.
Looking ahead: Seychelles in 2076:
Today, as Seychelles celebrates 50 years of Independence, I am often asked what I see when I look ahead to the next half century. My vision is of a nation that has completed the journey from perceived vulnerability to respected ocean leadership: a country that manages its maritime space wisely, that uses its natural resources sustainably, and that shares its experience with other island and coastal states.
But my greatest pride is not in the policies we have already put in place. It lies in the potential I see in our people, especially our young people. They are better educated, more connected and more globally aware than my generation was in 1976. If they remain united, keep faith with our values and dare to innovate, I believe the Seychelles of tomorrow can be even more remarkable than the Seychelles of today.
At midnight on that first Independence Day, the poem “Il est Minuit” captured a sense of ending and beginning. Fifty years on, I feel we are once again at such a threshold. The first chapter of an independent Seychelles has been written. The next will be authored by a new generation.
My hope is that they will write it with courage, imagination and love for these islands and the ocean that surrounds them.
IPS UN Bureau
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By CIVICUS
Jun 29 2026 (IPS)
CIVICUS discusses Ghana’s anti-LGBTQI+ law with Leila Lariba, Executive Director of One Love Sisters Ghana, a community-driven organisation that advances human rights, social inclusion and wellbeing for Muslim LGBTQI+ people in Ghana.
On 29 May, Ghana’s parliament approved the Human Sexual Rights and Family Values Bill, which imposes prison terms of up to three years for people who identify as LGBTQI+ and three to five years for anyone deemed to promote, sponsor or support LGBTQI+ activities. With it, Ghana joins a growing group of West African states, including Burkina Faso, Mali, Niger and Senegal, that have recently passed anti-LGBTQI+ laws.
What does the new bill do, and how different is it from the version parliament approved in 2024?
Parliament approved the new anti-LGBTQI+ bill on 29 May and it now awaits President John Dramani Mahama’s signature. The bill criminalises LGBTQI+ people and anyone perceived to support, advocate for or provide services to them. It reaches far beyond identity and relationships into the freedoms of association, education, expression, healthcare and human rights advocacy. I have worked directly with LGBTQI+ communities across Ghana for years and I see this not as a legal document but as a tool that legitimises discrimination.
The version parliament approved in 2024, which former president Nana Akufo-Addo left office without signing, was already one of the continent’s most restrictive. The new text keeps most of its harmful provisions. It comes at a moment when LGBTQI+ people already face heightened fear, insecurity and stigma, and it makes simply existing, seeking support or speaking about human rights a potential crime.
Why is the bill being pushed now, and who’s behind it?
The bill is being pushed by anti-rights groups that have increasingly turned LGBTQI+ people into a political target. As many Ghanaians struggle with economic hardship, unemployment and governance concerns, public attention is being redirected towards a small and already excluded community.
Behind it stands a coalition of political figures, conservative religious groups and traditional leaders who frame LGBTQI+ rights as a threat to culture and family values. This narrative ignores Ghana’s long history of diversity and the fact that LGBTQI+ people belong to every family, community and faith group in the country and the world.
Do you expect President Dramani to sign the bill, and what would the consequences be?
It’s uncertain whether President Dramani will sign. But the damage is already done. The prolonged public debate has fuelled fear, encouraged discrimination and left many people feeling less safe. Even before it becomes law, the bill has emboldened hostility.
At One Love Sisters Ghana, we have documented rising reports of blackmail, evictions, family rejection, mental health crises, online harassment and workplace discrimination. People are now afraid to seek healthcare, legal help and psychosocial support in case they are exposed or targeted. When fear becomes institutionalised, people stop seeking help precisely when they need it most.
The law would threaten fundamental rights and deepen the stigma, isolation and vulnerability of people who already face daily barriers. As a queer Muslim activist, I know what it means to navigate many layers of exclusion. Many LGBTQI+ people are balancing identity, faith, family and safety. This law would make that even harder.
The impact would reach beyond individual people. Community organisations, healthcare providers, human rights defenders and support networks would also face risk, making it harder for vulnerable people to reach essential services and protection.
How are LGBTQI+ groups, including your organisation, responding?
Ghana’s LGBTQI+ communities are remarkably resilient. Across the country, people are supporting one another, sharing information, strengthening their safety and keeping community ties alive.
At One Love Sisters Ghana, we focus on community care, protection and wellbeing. We have tightened safety and security measures, expanded psychosocial support, documented rights violations and kept referring people in crisis to the help they need.
We work closely with activists, community leaders, health professionals, lawyers and regional partners to track developments and keep people informed and supported. Through our national support systems, we keep hearing from people worried about their safety, livelihoods and future.
We also hold on to hope. Our communities have survived hard times before, and we keep building solidarity, caring for one another and advocating for dignity and human rights.
What further restrictions could follow, and what support do you need to prevent them?
Our greatest fear is that this law lays the groundwork for broader restrictions on civil society, free expression and human rights work. Organisations could face tighter scrutiny, activists greater risk and excluded groups even harder access to services.
To prevent further harm, we need sustained support from national, regional and international allies for community safety initiatives, emergency response, legal assistance, mental health services and the protection of human rights defenders.
International solidarity should be led by local communities and grounded in human rights. Allies should amplify local voices, back grassroots organisations and keep advocating for fundamental freedoms.
This is bigger than LGBTQI+ rights. It’s about the kind of society we want to be. Respect for human rights can’t be selective. When the rights of one group are restricted, it creates a precedent that can affect everyone.
As a queer Muslim feminist and human rights defender, I believe that dignity, freedom and safety belong to all people. The conversations happening today will shape the future of our democracy. I hope Ghana chooses compassion over fear, inclusion over exclusion and human dignity over discrimination.
CIVICUS interviews a wide range of civil society activists, experts and leaders to gather diverse perspectives on civil society action and current issues for publication on its CIVICUS Lens platform. The views expressed in interviews are the interviewees’ and do not necessarily reflect those of CIVICUS. Publication does not imply endorsement of interviewees or the organisations they represent.
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Gender rights: rollback and resistance CIVICUS | State of Civil Society Report 2026
Senegal: ‘The new law criminalises not only LGBTQI+ people but also anyone offering support’ CIVICUS Lens | Anonymous interview 21.May.2026
Ghana: ‘The anti-LGBTQI+ law enshrines prejudice and discrimination and perpetuates inequalities’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Solomon Atsuvia | 01.May.2024
Picture alliance / Anadolu | Magdalena Chodownik Source: International Politics and Society, Berlin
By Sandra Weiss
MEXICO CITY, Jun 29 2026 (IPS)
Ever since the Berlin Wall fell 37 years ago and the communist Eastern Bloc collapsed, Cuba has been debating economic reforms to its socialist system. Essentially, the discussion always revolves around the same issues: less state planning, more personal responsibility. In other words, a strong dose of capitalism as an antidote to inefficient and corrupt state bureaucracy.
Little has happened since then. Phases of liberalisation and opening up have been followed by phases of tightening and control. Time and again, hardliners within the party, the military and the bureaucracy have put the brakes on. The reason — the reforms fuelled inequality and resentment towards the newly wealthy privileged class. Underlying this was, above all, the fear of losing power and control, and of infiltration by the class enemy, or, in the Cuban interpretation, US imperialism.
Throwing money down a bottomless pit
Suddenly, things moved very quickly. Last week, the parliament – which had been convened in haste and with a rather incomplete quorum, as many MPs were unable to travel to Havana due to the petrol shortage – passed a 176-point reform programme which observers have described as ‘historic’ given its far-reaching implications. In the process, some of the ‘sacred cows’ of the socialist state economy are being brought down. For instance, there will be no more blanket subsidies in the future, instead, support will be targeted solely at the socially disadvantaged. This spells the end of the ‘Libreta’, the state food ration card that has granted the population access to virtually free food and hygiene products for over half a century, even though, in the face of the economic crisis, it had recently become little more than a piece of waste paper.
The second taboo to be broken is decentralisation. From now on, state-owned enterprises and provinces are to be less dependent on the central government in Havana and will be allowed to make their own decisions on staffing and wages. The absurd extremes to which this centralisation had led were captured by directors Juan Carlos Tabio and Tomás Gutiérrez Alea in their 1995 classic Guantanamera, in which a corpse had to be transported from Santiago de Cuba to Havana for burial – that is, all the way across the island, in a battle against bureaucracy.
Cuban exiles are permitted to invest directly on the island.
Private companies are finally to be permitted to operate in the agricultural sector; until now, only cooperatives had been authorised. Agriculture on the Caribbean island, once renowned for its sugar production, is now almost completely in ruins: millions of hectares of arable land lie fallow due to a lack of machinery, fertilisers, technology and labour. Cuba imports the majority of its food. Much of this comes from China, Turkey or Arab countries, but also from the neighbouring US – despite the embargoes. Private investment is now also permitted in the energy sector. The reforms will also allow individuals to own more than one private company in the future.
However, the liberalisation also targets trade, foreign investment and integration into the global economy. For example, private banks and financial institutions are to be authorised to operate in the microcredit sector. Numerous restrictions on foreign exchange transactions are being lifted. Consequently, businesses and private individuals may now open and operate foreign exchange accounts without prior authorisation. Foreign firms are permitted to select their own staff and are no longer required to go through state employment agencies. Furthermore, they are no longer obliged to enter into joint venture agreements with the state. Cuban exiles are permitted to invest directly on the island. This is intended to attract foreign investors and fresh capital.
Months ago, US Secretary of State Marco Rubio had already stated that political reforms and a change in the leadership were needed – but Havana categorically rejects this.
Almost all of these reforms have been under discussion for years. Even Vietnam and China have repeatedly urged the Cuban leadership to move in this direction, because, despite their historical ties, geopolitical interests and ideological affinities, they were tired of throwing money down a bottomless pit. Fifteen years ago, whilst the island was still receiving oil in abundance from its brother nation Venezuela and the then US President Barack Obama was reaching out to the island, the circumstances would have been ideal for such a transformation.
Now, beneath the sword of Damocles of the oil embargo and the threat of US intervention, it is actually already too late: the coffers are empty, legitimacy among the population has been squandered, and the reforms can only take effect if the US plays its part, lifts its sanctions against Cuba and supports the country’s integration into the global economy. However, that is out of the question at present. The US government holds the upper hand geopolitically and wants more. Months ago, US Secretary of State Marco Rubio had already stated that political reforms and a change in the leadership were needed – but Havana categorically rejects this.
The potential of democratization
The Speaker of the Cuban Parliament, José Luis Toledo, made it clear when the package was passed that ‘the reforms do not mean abandoning the state’s social role’. Washington’s reaction was correspondingly cool: the US State Department described the economic reforms as modest, too late and ‘superficial smoke signals’. This is a typical strategy to create the illusion of change, only to quickly reverse the reforms as soon as the regime’s control is threatened.
The strategies of either side are clear. Cuba is playing for time and hoping that Trump will lose the mid-term elections in the autumn, thereby losing his interest in Cuba and the backing for his stranglehold tactics. Washington will probably let Havana continue to squirm for the time being and wait to see whether words are followed by deeds – and how quickly. Meanwhile, political pressure is likely to continue to mount during the secret talks. Military intervention is not yet off the table either. This game of poker is ultimately about one thing: who dictates the terms for Cuba’s transformation.
The EU has, in fact, sidelined itself when it comes to Cuba.
So far, the Cuban people have had little say in the matter. Although protests against power cuts, water shortages and food shortages are a daily occurrence, they are swiftly and brutally suppressed. Unlike in Venezuela, there is no organised opposition on the island with charismatic leaders, a clearly defined political programme and broad support. This currently plays into the hands of the ruling elite. But this need not remain the case in the long term, especially if the reforms take hold and more and more people become independent of the state.
Transition processes in Eastern Europe have shown that civil society actors (and, unfortunately, organised crime too) know how to capitalise on the turmoil of such periods of upheaval. However, this could lead to all sorts of outcomes: permanent instability, a mafia-style oligarchic regime, or democratic structures. For the latter to emerge, however, the process – and above all the regime in Havana – would require discreet international support; at present, this seems conceivable only through countries such as Mexico and Brazil, with the backing of the UN or the Vatican.
Neither Latin America as a whole nor the EU currently has any relevant supranational structures with appropriate leaders. Quite the contrary. The EU has, in fact, sidelined itself when it comes to Cuba. Firstly, Trump’s sanctions forced most European companies to abandon their investments in and business dealings with Cuba, without Brussels doing anything to oppose this. And a few days ago, the European Parliament – with a majority of right-wing and conservative MEPs – called for sanctions against Cuba’s President Miguel Díaz-Canel and for an end to cooperation with Cuba – in other words, entirely in line with Trump’s thinking and spirit, without so much as a hint of independent ideas to defend European interests. Another small step towards geopolitical and geo-economic irrelevance.
Sandra Weiss is a political scientist and a former diplomat. A freelance journalist, Sandra writes articles about Latin America for several German newspapers, among others Die Zeit and Die Welt.
Source: International Politics and Society, published by the Global and European Policy Unit of the Friedrich-Ebert-Stiftung, Hiroshimastrasse 28, D-10785 Berlin.
Excerpt:
This game of poker is ultimately about one thing — who dictates the terms for the country’s transformation.With elections likely to be held in August, the young people in Haiti are moving ahead, creating opportunities in music and digitalization and agricultural cooperatives, which are reinventing food self-sufficiency. Credit: Shutterstock
By Xavier Michon
PORT-AU-PRINCE, Haiti, Jun 29 2026 (IPS)
There is a question that is never asked plainly enough in reports on Haiti: why, despite decades of analysis, billions in international aid, and an abundance of national strategies, does the potential of Haitian youth remain so consistently underutilized? This report, The Silent Transformation, is an attempt at an honest answer.
And that answer begins with an admission: for too long, we have viewed this generation as a problem to manage rather than a solution to mobilize.
Haiti is one of the youngest countries in the Western Hemisphere. More than one in two Haitians is under the age of 25. This reality should be at the heart of every policy decision, every investment strategy, every dialogue with international partners. It is not yet. And it is precisely to change this that this report exists.
We are at a turning point unlike any in the country’s recent history. For the first time since 2016, general elections are on the horizon. What may appear as an institutional milestone is, in fact, a deeply human one: an entire generation is preparing to vote for the first time. Citizens who were between 8 and 17 years old during the last general election. Since then, they have built businesses, lived through an earthquake, a pandemic, a presidential assassination and an unprecedented security crisis—and at no point during all of this were they consulted about the future of their own country.
Ten years without elections. Ten years of shaping their own lives without their institutions recognizing them as full actors. This paradox lies at the heart of this report.
Because this generation has not waited for permission to begin its transformation. It has done so on its own, in adversity, with whatever tools were within reach. And this is where the central thesis of this document lies: Haitian youth are not waiting for development. They are already producing it.
Mannitòks are inventing fintech without waiting for banks to modernize. Agricultural cooperatives are reinventing food self-sufficiency in secure areas. Coding clubs in Cap-Haïtien and Carrefour are training the next generation of developers without formal computer science schools. Designers in Pétion-Ville, musicians exporting kompa and Kreyòl rap to global platforms, DJs connecting Port-au-Prince to the diaspora, and artisans in Noailles are sustaining a cultural economy still absent from official economic radars.
These are not isolated success stories. They are signs of a structural transformation unfolding before our eyes—quietly, because we have not yet learned how to see it with the right tools.
This report is an attempt to develop those tools. It documents, analyzes, and recommends. But it also does something rarer in development literature: it shifts the perspective. It starts from the creative genius of Haitian youth and works upward toward public policy, rather than moving from policy down to beneficiaries.
This inversion is not rhetorical—it is methodological. And it changes what we see.
What it reveals is demanding for all of us. It shows that the main barrier to youth development in Haiti is not a lack of potential, but a lack of recognition of that potential. It shows that the most effective policies will not be those designed for young people, but those designed with them. And it shows, finally, that the international community—including UNDP—must embrace a new kind of humility: sometimes, to support means to step back, to remove obstacles rather than impose solutions.
UNDP supports these dynamics: we promote digital skills, access to finance and innovation ecosystems. Our initiatives—from supporting Fab Labs to advancing regulatory reforms—aim to create an environment in which youth-led enterprises can thrive. But we also know that our most valuable role is the one we build on the ground, alongside those who are already taking action. This report calls on us to listen as much as we act.
I warmly thank Group Croissance and CEDEL Haiti, whose field expertise and unwavering commitment have shaped every page of this document. Above all, I thank the young Haitians who shared their experiences, their vision and their clarity—because this is their report before it is ours.
To them, I want to say this: your determination is not only your strength—it is, objectively, the most valuable resource Haiti possesses. The upcoming election will be your first meeting with the ballot box. It will not be your last. And if this report helps ensure that this moment lives up to what you have already built without itin adversity, without permission, with unwavering ambition, then it will have achieved its essential purpose.
None of this happens in isolation. Canada has been a trusted partner in Haiti’s development journey, and its continued support for initiatives that invest in people, ideas and long-term possibilities reflects exactly the kind of partnership Haiti needs. To the Government of Canada and Global Affairs Canada: thank you. Your commitment to a Haiti defined by its potential—not only its challenges—helps make initiatives like this one possible.
The path ahead requires courage, collaboration and clear-eyed reflection on what has not worked—but above all, renewed faith in what is possible. Because while the past teaches us caution, it is the future this generation is already shaping that must guide our choices.
Let us take this path together—by letting you show the way.
XAVIER MICHON IS Resident Representative, UNDP Haiti
Source: UNDP
IPS UN Bureau
Follow @IPSNewsUNBureau
Excerpt:
Haitian youth are quietly reinventing their country’s future.