Astola at Risk: Why Environmental Protection Is a Human Rights Issue

Yasir Ali,

Teaching Associate and Research Officer at University of Karachi, Pakistan

Furqan Ahmed

Visiting Faculty, Department of International Relations, University of Karachi & Senior Research Associate, SARIM. Pakistan.

Extreme weather, food insecurity, health issues are associated with air and water pollution, and the loss of land, biodiversity, and livelihoods are just a few catastrophic repercussions that environmental crises are having on people worldwide. Human rights violations are caused by inadequate and enforcement of ecologically harmful economic such as mining, agricultural commodities, highly polluting fossil fuel industries. In order to keep global warming under 1.5 degree Celsius and stop additional environmental destruction, governments continue to fail take swift and significant action. The main victim of environmental harm are often underprivileged and marginalized communities that have no access to independents courts for accountability and restitution and little opportunities to actively engage in public discourse and decision-making on environmental issues. 

The issue of environmental protection must be taken seriously, and reason must prevail before it is too late. There are roughly 16,000 marine protected areas worldwide, covering nearly 8% of the oceans, while Pakistan has only three, protecting less than 1% of its waters. In this context, recent comments by one of the most influential ministers, Mr. Mohsin Naqvi, about establishing resorts and populating Astola Island in the name of development, while comparing it to the Maldives—are concerning. Promoting fragile ecosystems like Astola in this manner is not development; it is negligence. 

Astola Island, Pakistan’s secluded gem in the Arabian Sea, offers a rare glimpse of unspoiled natural beauty. Situated off the coast near Pasni (Baluchistan), this remote island is a haven for adventure seekers and nature enthusiasts alike. Its rugged cliffs, clear turquoise waters, and complete absence of permanent human settlement create a landscape that feels both raw and extraordinary. Recognized as the country’s first marine protected area, Astola supports unique wildlife, including green turtles and migratory birds. Whether it’s camping beneath a star-filled sky or exploring its pristine waters through snorkeling, Astola provides a remarkable escape for those in search of tranquility, adventure, and untouched nature.

Ms. Afia Salam, a renowned environmental journalist and trainer, and a member of the National Coordinating Body (NCB) for Marine Protected Areas (MPAs) under Pakistan’s Ministry of Climate Change, has expressed strong concern over the recent remarks made by the interior minister of the incumbent government. In a social media post, she urged him to retract his statement. She also reiterated her stance on LinkedIn, calling on Dr. Musadik Malik and Secretary Aisha Moriani, who oversee the NCB, to brief Mohsin Naqvi and ask him to publicly withdraw what she described as a “dangerous” statement. Afia emphasized that the minister should retract his remarks and encourage people to continue visiting the Maldives instead, while promoting her new hashtag, #HandsOffAstola.

She further urged supporters to amplify the call by turning #HandsOffAstola into #SaveAstolaIsland, warning against what she described as “DEVIL-opers” threatening the island’s fragile ecosystem.  Astola is Pakistan’s first Marine Protected Area (MPA) and we need to ‘protect the protected’, lest we have a hoard of people with ‘Bailcha and Kudaal’ (Shovel and Fence) heading to Pasni. Most importantly, the matter falls under the jurisdiction of the Balochistan Forest and Wildlife Department—so why is the Federal Interior Minister, Mohsin Naqvi, commenting on it?” Afia added. She warned that such remarks could have serious repercussions, as clearly outlined in the management plan.

She called on conservationists to raise their voices and urged the Ministry of Climate Change, Government of Pakistan, to hold a briefing for the Ministry of Interior as soon as possible, as recommended in the NCB’s last meeting. She also noted that timely pushback from environmental organizations could help nip the issue in the bud. We need to raise awareness and inform the public as well about the importance of preserving marine protected areas like Astola to prevent environmental degradation. We can ill afford to further exacerbate our already polluted environment and must act seriously before it is too late.

When activists and ordinary citizens stand up for their rights to land and the environment, they counter intimidation, legal harassment, and deadly violence. We must advocate for human rights law and compel governments to safeguard citizens and stop corporations from causing severe environmental degradation. 

The Algorithmic Frontier: AI, Political Science, and the Future of Human Rights

Anju Gupta

JECRC  University

 Jaipur,  India

As we move further into the decade, the intersection of Artificial Intelligence (AI) and Political Science has transitioned from a niche technical concern to a fundamental challenge for global human rights. In 2026, the proliferation of generative AI and predictive analytics is not merely changing how we govern—it is fundamentally altering the “Social Contract.” For the international political science community, specifically those focused on human rights, this shift demands a new vocabulary of resistance and a reimagined framework for justice.

One of the most pressing political issues today is the erosion of “Epistemic Security”—the ability of a society to distinguish fact from fabrication. Generative AI has weaponized the “marketplace of ideas.” With hyper-realistic deepfakes, we have entered an era of “The Liar’s Dividend,” where the very existence of AI allows bad actors to dismiss real evidence of human rights abuses as “synthetic.”

From a political science perspective, this shatters the foundation of democratic accountability. When the public cannot agree on a shared reality, the right to free and fair elections—and the right to information—is compromised. We are seeing a shift in political strategy where the goal is no longer to convince the electorate of a particular truth, but to exhaust them with so much “synthetic noise” that they withdraw from the political process entirely.

There is another problem and that is  accountability Gap

The transition from traditional bureaucracy to “Algocracy”—governance by algorithm—represents a significant shift in state power. AI systems are now routinely used in judicial sentencing, social welfare distribution, and migration management. While proponents argue this brings “Scientific Management” and efficiency, human rights advocates see a “Black Box” problem.

In political theory, the legitimacy of the state rests on the transparency of its decisions. However, many AI models are proprietary and inscrutable. If a citizen is denied asylum or a social safety net based on a biased algorithm, whom do they hold accountable? The programmer? The data set? The machine? This lack of transparency violates the right to due process and creates a new form of “digital disenfranchisement” that disproportionately affects marginalized populations.

AI has also enabled a level of “Ubiquitous Surveillance” that would have been unimaginable to 20th-century theorists. The combination of facial recognition, gait analysis, and predictive policing has turned the “Panopticon” into a digital reality.

For the IPSA Human Rights Committee, the concern is how these tools are used to stifle dissent. In several regions, AI is used to monitor political activists in real-time, predicting protests before they happen and “pre-emptively” neutralizing opposition. This “Predictive Authoritarianism” chills the freedom of assembly and association, as the mere knowledge of being watched by an infallible algorithm forces citizens to self-censor their political expressions.

AI has also resulted in the Geopolitics of the “Compute Divide”.

In International Relations (IR), power is being redefined by access to “Compute”—the hardware and data necessary to run advanced AI. This is creating a dangerous “North-South” divide. We are witnessing a form of “Data Colonialism,” where the Global South provides the raw data (often generated by its citizens without consent), while the Global North controls the refined AI models.

This “Compute Divide” has direct human rights implications. Countries without sovereign AI capabilities are forced to rely on foreign platforms that may not align with their cultural values or legal protections. It creates a hierarchy of nations where “digital sovereignty” is a luxury, leaving the rights of billions of people at the mercy of a few transnational corporations.

Perhaps the most profound impact is on the nature of political agency. If algorithms can predict—and influence—voter behavior with 99% accuracy, what remains of the “Autonomous Individual”? Political science must now grapple with the idea that the “voter” is being replaced by a “data profile.”

The challenge for the 21st century is to draft a “Digital Bill of Rights” that treats AI not just as a tool, but as a systemic force that requires global oversight. We must move toward “Human-in-the-Loop” governance, where the final decision in any matter affecting a person’s life, liberty, or livelihood remains a human responsibility.

Conclusion: A Call to Action for Political Scientists

The integration of AI into the political sphere is an “orbit-shifting” event. For the members of the IPSA, our task is to ensure that while technology evolves, the “Compass of Human Rights” remains fixed. We must advocate for the Decolonization of Data, the Auditability of Algorithms, and the Protection of the Epistemic Truth.

The new horizon of politics is digital, but our commitment must remain resolutely human. As we analyze these shifting power dynamics, let us ensure that innovation serves to expand human dignity, rather than providing new tools for its suppression.

Bearing the Risk, Missing the Reward: The Unequal Burden of the New Space Race

Cássius Guimarães Chai

RC26 Board Member

Full Law and Geopolitics Professor (PPGAERO/PROFIAP/UFMA & PPGD/FDV), Brazil

www.spaceweeknordeste.com

The grand promise enshrined in Article I of the 1967 Outer Space Treaty, that the exploration and use of outer space shall be carried out for the benefit and in the interests of all countries, irrespective of their degree of economic or scientific development, constitutes one of international law’s most ambitious normative declarations. It proclaims space as the “province of all mankind,” a common beyond terrestrial sovereign claims. However, viewed from the critical perspective afforded by Third World Approaches to International Law (TWAIL), this foundational promise stands in stark and increasingly indefensible tension with present realities. The juridical architecture of space governance, far from guaranteeing equitable access and benefit-sharing, functions as a mechanism for consolidating the technological and economic primacy of a handful of wealthy states and their corporate proxies, thereby perpetuating the very structures of global inequality that TWAIL scholarship has long sought to unmask.

The TWAIL critique offers an indispensable hermeneutic for understanding why the “province of all mankind” remains a largely rhetorical flourish. It posits that international legal norms, including those governing outer space, were forged within a post-colonial order inherently reflecting the interests of powerful, developed states. The ostensibly neutral principle of equitable access is, in practice, subverted by operational realities. The prevailing regime for allocating geostationary orbital slots and radio frequencies, administered by the International Telecommunication Union, operates effectively on a “first-come, first-served” basis. This procedural framework creates an insurmountable first-mover advantage, allowing established spacefaring nations and their commercial entities to claim prime orbital real estate long before developing nations possess the technical and financial capacity to compete. The result is not a common management for universal benefit, but a de facto enclosure of a finite resource, sanctioned by a legal order whose structural biases TWAIL consistently foregrounds.

Furthermore, the accelerating commercialization and militarization of space exacerbate this foundational inequity. The deployment of vast satellite mega-constellations by private corporations, while offering global services, consumes enormous amounts of spectrum and orbital volume in Low Earth Orbit. This raises urgent concerns about the ability of non-spacefaring countries to ever achieve meaningful access. The orbital environment is rapidly becoming congested and polluted, predominantly by the actions of a few, yet the consequent risks of collision and debris proliferation fall disproportionately upon nations that have yet to launch their first satellite. This dynamic, wherein the costs and dangers of technological “progress” are externalized onto the global periphery, mirrors patterns of environmental injustice and resource extraction that TWAIL identifies as characteristic of neo-colonial legal and economic relations. The principle of the “province of all mankind” is thus inverted: the benefits are privatized and concentrated, while the long-term risks and burdens are socialized globally, with developing nations bearing a disproportionate share of the potential consequences of the Kessler Syndrome.

In conclusion, the intersection of space law’s foundational promise with TWAIL’s critical lens reveals a profound and disquieting juridical dissonance. The “province of all mankind” functions less as a binding normative commitment and more as a legitimating ideology for a system that entrenches global hierarchy. A genuinely equitable framework for space governance cannot be realized through a superficial adherence to dated treaty language; it demands a fundamental reimagination of the legal order itself. This reimagination must prioritize procedural inclusion, granting developing nations a substantive voice in the regulatory bodies that shape the future of the cosmos. It requires concrete mechanisms for technology transfer and capacity building that move beyond mere aspirational statements. Ultimately, the legitimacy of international space law hinges upon its capacity to transform the abstract promise of a shared celestial commons into a tangible reality of equitable participation and shared benefit. Without such a transformation, the law merely provides a veneer of legality to a new frontier of global disenfranchisement.

The Policeman Has Left the Building

On Human Rights, American Exceptionalism, and the Architecture of Convenient Conscience

 Swati Sakshi Mishra 

Geopolitical Journalist, MEA WorldWide

Masters, International Relations

JECRC University, India

There is an old joke in international relations: human rights are what powerful states demand of weaker ones. It is not actually a joke.

When the Universal Declaration of Human Rights was adopted in 1948, the United States voted in favour. Eleanor Roosevelt had chaired the drafting committee. The symbolism was enormous, the sincerity, selective. At the time of signing, the US maintained legal racial segregation at home, ran a colonial administration in Puerto Rico, and was orchestrating coups in Iran and Guatemala within the same decade. The Declaration was a magnificent document. It was also, in significant part, a Cold War instrument, a rhetorical cudgel with which the West could beat the Soviet Union while (silently) exempting itself from the same blows.

You might think it’s cynicism. But (unfortunately) this is history.

For seventy years, the global human rights system operated on an implicit understanding: the United States was its guarantor of last resort. Flawed, hypocritical, frequently absent, but present enough to give the architecture some credibility. Dictators knew there were limits. Not because Washington had a conscience, but because it had an image to maintain. 

Reputational cost is a real cost in international politics, even when moral cost is not.

That calculation has now collapsed.

In the course of a single year, the Trump administration undermined trust in elections, attacked judicial independence, defied court orders, rolled back women’s rights, stripped protections from trans and intersex people, eroded privacy, and used government power to intimidate the media, law firms, universities, civil society organizations, and, remarkably, even comedians. Comedians. The regime that cannot tolerate a joke is historically not a regime that tolerates much else.

The US withdrew from the UN Human Rights Council, the World Health Organization, and announced plans to exit 66 more international institutions. You might its isolationism but Isolationism, my dear readers, is passive. This is active demolition. 

There is a meaningful difference between a country that stops attending the meeting and one that burns down the meeting hall on its way out.

The consequences are not abstract. Authoritarians worldwide have monitored this assault and learned that they are unlikely to be held accountable internationally in the near term. Observation and emulation are the sincerest forms of political flattery. When Budapest, Ankara, and Riyadh see Washington sanction ICC judges and call it foreign policy, they do not feel embarrassed. They feel vindicated.

Here is the deeper problem, and it requires some philosophical honesty to state: the human rights system was always underpinned more by American power than American principle. 

John Rawls built his theory of justice on the idea of a veil of ignorance, that we design fair rules when we do not know which position we will occupy. The American approach to human rights worked on the opposite logic. Washington always knew exactly which position it occupied, and designed the rules accordingly. What is remarkable is how long the rest of the world politely pretended otherwise.

Freedom House recorded its 19th consecutive year of declines in global freedom. Human rights funding globally faces a projected reduction of $1.9 billion by 2026 compared to 2023 levels. Civil society organizations are being defunded, banned, and in some cases disappeared. Nearly 44 percent of peacebuilding organizations surveyed would run out of funds by the end of 2027. The infrastructure of accountability is not being reformed. It is being starved.

So where does that leave human rights as a political project?

Precisely here: stripped of its most powerful patron, the idea must now justify itself on its own terms. That is, paradoxically, the most honest position it has ever been in. For decades, human rights advocacy was contaminated by association with Western foreign policy, a problem that scholars from the Global South, feminist IR theorists, and postcolonial critics had been raising long before it became fashionable to notice. When Amnesty International’s credibility depended partly on the State Department’s credibility, that was always a fragile foundation.

Civil society organizations are more important than ever and can play a critical role in defending rights, protecting minorities, and holding governments accountable. Youth movements in Bangladesh, Kenya, Nepal and Venezuela demonstrated in 2024 and 2025 that accountability does not require American endorsement. It requires people who are angry enough and organized enough to demand it themselves.

The policeman has left the building. He was, admittedly, a policeman who sometimes robbed the same houses he claimed to protect. His departure is not a tragedy for human rights. His departure is a test of whether human rights ever meant anything beyond his convenience.

The answer to that test will define the next century of global politics.

 Democracy and the Right to Welfare: Reclaiming Human Dignity through Social Rights 

Thiruppathi P. 

Ph.D. Scholar 

Institute for Social and Economic Change (ISEC), University of Mysore, India. 

Chair of Comparative Politics SRC 

International Association for Political Science Students (IAPSS) 

Human rights have been touted as the pillars of contemporary democracy, infusing values of freedom, equality, and dignity. While civil and political rights like voting, freedom of speech, and fair treatment under law are touted, social and economic rights are relegated to the background. In order for democracy to be meaningfully inclusive, the right to welfare needs to be accepted as a core human right and not a state-derived indulgence (Beetham, 1999; Sen, 1999). 

This contends that democratic legitimacy is not complete without considering social exclusion and structural inequality—particularly for historically excluded groups such as Dalits in India. The withholding of welfare, dignity, and equal opportunity from the Dalits highlights the imperative necessity of inscribing social rights into the democratic order. Based on the prisms of political communication and rights-based language, this post contends for an expansive understanding of democracy: one that guarantees substantive equality, natural justice, and collective welfare. 

From Political Equality to Social Citizenship 

The Universal Declaration of Human Rights (1948) upholds both civil liberties and socio-economic rights (Articles 22–26). However, in practice, democracies often treat the latter as aspirational rather than enforceable. As T.H. Marshall (1950) argued, full citizenship involves not just legal equality but social rights—the right to education, livelihood, and health—which allow people to meaningfully participate in public life. 

Nowhere is this disparity more evident than in the life of Dalits in India. Even with constitutional guarantees and effective political rights, Dalits remain discriminated against in obtaining access to public goods, education, health services, and accommodations (Thorat & Newman, 2010). Their plight best illustrates what democracy 

without welfare rights is like—a society in which formal inclusion camouflages structural exclusion. This is a violation of not just human rights but also the concept of natural justice, which presumes fairness, impartiality, and protection against arbitrary denial of dignity. 

Rhetoric, Framing, and Political Inclusion 

Political communication is a central factor in reinforcing or challenging exclusion. The way in which an issue is “framed” determines public perception and policy measures, as pointed out by Entman (1993). When welfare is framed as an entitlement based on human dignity and natural justice, it enhances democracy; when framed as dependency or burden, it legitimates exclusion. 

In India, social welfare schemes for Dalits—e.g., scholarships, affirmative action, or housing schemes—are frequently articulated not as rights, but as concessions or appeasement. Public opinion and policy enforcement are shaped by this rhetorical articulation, dissolving the moral authority of social justice and intensifying stigma. 

On the other hand, Dr. B.R. Ambedkar’s call for social democracy rested on the premise that “political democracy cannot last unless it lies at the base of social democracy”. His conceptualization of the abolition of caste and welfare as human rights, and not state charity, is a progressive lesson in rights-based messaging and the moral ethics of natural justice. 

Welfare as a Human Right 

Identifying welfare as a human right changes the state’s role: not to give but to guarantee, not to be benevolent but accountable. This is vital for marginalized groups whose rights are perpetually delayed in practice. When Dalit groups insist on land, education, and healthcare, they are not claiming privilege—they are insisting on justice. These calls ring out in all contexts around the world: Black communities’ fight for social rights in the U.S., Latin American indigenous peoples, or refugees in Europe all attest to a common global shortfall of democratic inclusion. 

By restructuring welfare as a natural justice and democratic equity right, democracies allow the most vulnerable to assert their rightful position in the polity, not merely hope for symbolic representation. 

The Democratic Case for Social Rights 

Real democracy is not just a matter of voting—it’s a matter of living with dignity. When political regimes forget this, they open themselves up to solidifying economic inequality and caste or racial hierarchies, even as they may seem representative. To Dalits, social rights—enshrined through education, employment, access to healthcare, and protection from violence—are not merely a question of survival but of dignity and democratic citizenship. Without them, the promise of equality is rhetorical. 

Democratic democracies will hence need to reimagine participation as incorporating economic agency and social mobility. Welfare programs promoting equality must be articulated not only as state welfare measures but as rights from moral obligations of fairness and justice. 

Conclusion: Democracy as Dignity in Action 

The situation of Dalits in India provides a compelling case of why welfare has to be a fundamental democratic right. It teaches us that civil liberties are insufficient where social structures are oppressive. There can be no genuine democracy until and unless these inequalities are met head on through embedding welfare at the institutional, rhetorical, and ethical levels. By bringing political communication into alignment with a rights-based discourse, and by conceptualizing welfare as a necessary component of citizenship, democracies can become more humane, just, and inclusive. In this vision, human rights are not only safeguards against state tyranny but promises of human flourishing and natural justice—particularly for those who were previously excluded from it. 

References 

Beetham, D. (1999). Democracy and human rights. Polity Press. 

Entman, R. M. (1993). Framing: Toward clarification of a fractured paradigm. Journal of Communication, 43(4), 51–58. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1460-2466.1993.tb01304.x 

Marshall, T. H. (1950). Citizenship and social class. Cambridge University Press. 

Sen, A. (1999). Development as Freedom Oxford University Press Shaw TM & Heard. The Politics of Africa: Dependence and Development

Thorat, S., & Newman, K. S. (Eds.). (2010). Blocked by caste: Economic discrimination and social exclusion in modern India. Oxford University Press. 

United Nations. (1948). Universal Declaration of Human Rights. https://www.un.org/en/about-us/universal-declaration-of-human-rights 

Internet Shutdowns and Human Rights Violations 

Laitonjam Muhindro, Ph. D

While internet shutdowns may appear to be an effective strategy for suppressing protests and maintaining order in the short term, they fundamentally infringe upon the fundamental human rights of freedom of expression and the right to access information. These rights are enshrined in Article 19(1)a of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights and various United Nations resolutions that guarantee the protection of these freedoms. The implications of these shutdowns extend far beyond the immediate suppression of dissent, raising serious concerns about the long-term impact on democratic values and citizen engagement. This is to understand a comprehensive analysis of the human rights issues associated with the increasing prevalence of internet shutdowns, with a particular focus on the situation in India, specifically in the region of Manipur, as well as a broader global perspective. The study will delve into the various ways in which these shutdowns affect individuals and communities, examining the impact on their ability to exercise their rights and participate in public discourse. The imposition of preventive internet shutdowns by Indian authorities has become a disturbing trend, disrupting the daily lives of ordinary citizens without any conclusive evidence that they are effective in restoring peace and stability. Furthermore, these shutdowns severely impede access to essential information, particularly during times of crisis and emergencies, when access to timely and accurate information is most critical for the safety and well-being of the population.

Internet shutdown is becoming a global phenomenon where the controlling authority is treated as the most convenient and easy tactic to suppress issues immediately in the name of public order.  It is reported that 187 times were in 35 countries around the world during 2022 while compared to 76 times in 2016. Usually, an internet shutdown entails purposefully interfering with electronic communications or the internet to the point that they are rendered completely or partially inoperable. Internet shutdowns have occasionally impacted entire nations, but they usually target a specific population or geographic area to limit the free flow of information in that area. Full and localized shutdowns, bandwidth throttling, and service-based blocking of two-way communication platforms are examples of internet shutdowns, often known as “blackouts” or “kill switches.”

International law has established clear guidelines that acknowledge internet access as an essential requirement for both the practice and fulfillment of human rights, whether in digital spaces or in real life. The UN Human Rights Council has repeatedly stated that “the same rights individuals possess offline must also be safeguarded online” and has urged all nations to improve access to and utilization of the internet to foster the complete realization of human rights for everyone. States frequently depend on the justification of “national security” or “public order” to rationalize the interruption of internet services. In legal disputes concerning internet shutdowns, it is crucial to perform a comprehensive analysis of limitations to demonstrate to a court that a right has been violated and that this limitation fails to satisfy the criteria established by Article 19(3) of the ICCPR.

Necessity and proportionality

At the core of challenging internet shutdowns is demonstrating that such actions infringe upon the rights to freedom of expression and access to information, as well as other rights including health and education. Nevertheless, because freedom of expression is not an absolute right, it can be restricted under specific conditions, but only when such restrictions, in line with international human rights standards, are “established by law” and “essential” to guarantee “the respect for the rights or reputation of others” or for “the safeguarding of national security or public order, or public health or morals.”

Human Rights Values Praxis in India: Vishwaguru with Manual Scavengers

Ms. Sanghamitra Mallick

BITS Pilani K.K. Birla Goa Campus, India

Introduction

India, the largest liberal democracy with a population of 1.4 billion, is a vibrant subcontinent with a rich historical and cultural legacy and often termed as a “Vishwaguru” cultural leader of the cosmos. The Indian constitution, enacted in 1950 post-Independence, accommodated the aspirations of the vulnerable population while absorbing the spirit of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR) of 1948 by the UN, which serves as a global benchmark for human rights. Despite the fact that India is hailed as a civilizational state and has evolved as a Constitutional democracy, the human rights situation of the marginalised section of the Indian society remains grim, despite the maker of the Indian Constitution Dr. B.R. Ambedkar whose experience as a Dalit was humiliation, denial of dignity and refusal of Human rights, that he has recorded all along through several of his seminal works. In spite of the fact that the Constitution of India abolished untouchability and advocated the dignified treatment of all human beings equally, the situation of the Dalit population nearly seventy years after the enactment of the Republic is precarious in such a manner that a sizeable number of them are involved in manual scavenging. 

Praxis of Human Rights Values from the Spirit of the Constitution 

A dehumanising occupation of manual scavenging, inheriting a social stratification called the caste system, where the dirty job of society is the yardstick for the Dalits, is constitutionally banned in India. While the spirit of the Constitution (Part III) promotes civil and political rights, the first generation of human rights, the constitution makers left the safeguard of socio-economic rights to the provinces of the then Indian Union, given the limitations of resource allocation through constitution as the “Directive Principles of State Policy” (Part IV) of the Indian Constitution. Thus, a Dalit in India, who is voiceless, is positioned between two columns of Constitutional protection. A) His civil rights are protected and he is an equal before the others, and yet B) his economic rights are to be protected by the Provincial Government, which is supposed to operate in fair terms in ensuring Justice, which is yet to be realised. This praxis would explain how and why manual scavenging in India is perpetuated despite the ban in the Constitution 

Institutional Limitations and Implementation Gaps 

The 1993 Employment of Manual Scavengers and Construction of Dry Latrine (Prohibition) Act fell under the state subject of health and sanitation, and under Article 252(1), applied only to states adopting it through a legislative resolution. The legal provision is unclear; for instance, the punishment clauses do not specify whether the employer or scavenger is liable for punishment or penalty. It is also a conflicting interest, while a scavenger wants to file a case against executive authority, the same authority is also one to grant permission for filing cases against themselves (Gochhayat, 2018). Since it is a state (Provincial Government) subject, adoption and enforcement differ across states, causing uneven implementation. There is no independent body with enough power to address complaints quickly. There is a lack of political will among states to implement it; some states acted only after the Supreme Court’s intervention.  Exploited by the only means of survival, the fear of social stigma, and the fear of losing their livelihood, manual scavengers often avoid reporting, which leads to poor monitoring data. In 2014, the Indian government, under the leadership of PM Narendra Modi, was installing toilets in rural villages to promote ‘open defecation free’ and eradicate manual scavenging in the country as the flagship project named as Swachh Bharat Mission (SBM). But the question is, who is going to clean the septic tanks in the absence of a suction pump (Wilson, 2016)?

Failure of Technological Implementation to Address the Problem in the Age of AI

In this technologically advanced era, there is a continuous dependence on human labour for hazardous tasks like manual scavenging. Indian has the capability to develop cryogenic engines and launch lunar missions, yet we hesitate to invest in technology that eliminates the need for manual toilet cleaning. Despite the fact that at present there are thousands of cases regarding septic tank and sewer deaths in India (Yacoob & Karthik, 2025). 

Conclusion and Recommendation 

Given AI and technological advancements, the mechanising process is feasible. Lawmakers must plan to eradicate this intolerable evil by sufficient budget allocation and concerted implementation of the mechanisation of scavenging in both urban and rural India. Robotic instruments must substitute for humans in getting down the underground drainage system. This is a classic case that depicts the praxis of Human rights Values in India, when a section of its Population hails the Indian State as a Vishwaguru and at the same time, its weaker sections are entrenched in a perpetuated social oppression.

References

Georg, R. (2014, January 28). Brief History of Class and Waste in India. Retrieved from https://longreads.com/2014/01/28/a-brief-history-of-class-and-waste-in-india-2/?

Gochhayat, R. (2018, April 13). Towards Genocide: Upper Caste Policy Over Manual Scavengers. Retrieved from https://www.roundtableindia.co.in/genocide-under-the-upper-caste-leadership/?

Mahananda, J. (2018, November 22). Only Manuwadi Hindutva gang can burn Indian Constitution. Retrieved from https://www.roundtableindia.co.in/only-manuwadi-hindutva-gang-can-burn-indian-constitution-2/

The Employment of Manual Scavengers and Construction of dry Lartines (Prohibition) Act, 1993. (1993). Retrieved from www.indiacode.nic.in: https://www.indiacode.nic.in/bitstream/123456789/1581/1/199346.pdf

Wilson, B. (2016, August 24). Who will clean Swachh Bharat toilets, asks Wilson. Retrieved from https://www.thehindu.com/news/cities/Delhi/Who-will-clean-Swachh-Bharat-toilets-asks-Wilson/article14586879.ece

Yacoob, M., & Karthik, A. (2025, July 28). Let’s raise a stink over manual scavenging in Karnataka. Retrieved from https://www.newindianexpress.com/states/karnataka/2025/Jul/28/lets-raise-a-stink-over-manual-scavenging-in-karnataka

From Rancho Izaguirre, reflections to come

Miguel Ramírez

Master student in Carlos III University of Madrid

University of Guadalajara

 

The place where I was born and the house where I grew up and lived the most memorable moments of my life is located just 60 kilometers away from Teuchitlán, a municipality in the State of Jalisco, México. Teuchitlán has been on the spotlight among activist and the national and international press in the last few weeks. 

         In Teuchitlán is located Rancho Izaguirre, a property that, in recent days, was secured by Mexican State authorities. This was because it is undeniably the physical space where, without any doubt, actions occurred that have irreversibly destroyed thousands of lives. All the evidence indicates that this place has served as a center of operations where a criminal group trains and disappears people according to their convenience.

The crescendo of the ‘Rancho Izaguirre narrative’ was undeniably triggered by the March 5th dissemination of a harrowing video attributed to the Colectivo de guerreros buscadores de Jalisco/Jalisco Searching Warriors Collective (Franco, Darwin, 2024). documenting their on-site inspection. For an international readership perhaps unfamiliar with this phenomenon, it is crucial to contextualize these collectives as a poignant manifestation of Mexico’s civil society response to the endemic crisis of desaparecidos, disappeared persons crisis. Their emergence underscores the perceived inadequacy and precariousness of the Mexican State’s official response to this profound human rights crisis (Franco, Darwin, 2025a).

These collectives of searchers, essentially grassroots search parties, represent an organized societal endeavor to locate fragmented and concealed human remains across diverse terrains. Confronting sophisticated and disturbing modus operandi of bodily disposal and evidentiary obfuscation, their reason is to provide solace and closure to families grappling with the agonizing ambiguity of disappearance. Operating under duress, these brave individuals often face criminalization from state actors and threats, intimidation, and violence from the very criminal elements seeking to perpetuate their impunity and conceal their barbarity. Undeterred, they venture into the abyss, meticulously documenting the unfathomable horror and savagery that unfolds with impunity across the nation daily.

It is pertinent to underscore here that a significant number of these courageous searchers have themselves fallen victim to assassination at the hands of organized criminal groups, as meticulously documented by the NGO ¿A dónde van los desaparecidos? /Where do the disappeared go? (Nuño, Analy y Ayala Martínez, Aranzazú, 2025).

This grim reality illuminates yet another dark and tragic dimension of this ongoing crisis, an inhumane entrenchment of impunity and the perpetuation of individual, familial, and collective suffering engendered by these disappearances, a chilling attitude that should rightfully terrify and concern us all.

The aforementioned video, capturing the Collective’s entry into the property, offers stark and brutal testimony. The documented scenes are nothing short of an indictment, reflecting the squalor and terror of a nation seemingly adrift in a crisis that elicits insufficient societal introspection, compounded by a tepid and inadequate institutional response. The visual inventory – hundreds of discarded garments and footwear strewn across the Rancho, personal items of individuals who once possessed their liberty and their lives – paints a visceral portrait of loss. The contentious issue of alleged clandestine crematories, purportedly utilized by organized crime to obliterate bodies and conceal homicides, has ignited a national debate, giving rise to the terrifying speculation of extermination camps run by criminal organizations (Ginés, Isabel,2025).

However, the Rancho Izaguirre saga is but another episode within a broader societal and institutional crisis of overwhelming magnitude. In the analytical framework proposed by Mexican researcher Rosana Reguillo, this constitutes yet another grim ‘postcard of horror,’ a stark tableau illuminating the brutal reality of a State seemingly subjugated by the violence and dynamics of the necromáquina, a lethal apparatus of human annihilation operating with near-total impunity across the national landscape (Reguillo, Rossana, 2025), relentlessly extinguishing the lives and liberties of individuals and families.

The disappeared persons crisis– brutally exposed at Rancho Izaguirre – undoubtedly represents the most harrowing manifestation of this necromáquina. The staggering statistics of disappeared persons in Mexico underscore the inescapable responsibility of the Mexican State. According to official government data, as of April 18, 2025, the number of individuals not located stands at a staggering 127,280 (The National Search Commission for Persons/Comisión Nacional de Busqueda, 2025). Pervasive impunity severely hinders the ability to definitively attribute culpability for these disappearances. An overwhelming majority of cases never reach judicialization. In its latest report on disappearances in Mexico, the United Nations Committee Against Forced Disappearance concluded that a mere 2% to 6% of cases have been brought before the courts, with only 36 convictions nationwide (United Nations Committee on Enforced Disappearances,2022). In 2023, the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights noted the paltry figure of just 40 convictions for this crime, urging Mexico to rectify this trajectory of profound impunity (United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights, 2023) While these figures are subject to updates and minor numerical variations, the near-absolute impunity surrounding this crime remains as an undisputed reality.

This context compels the conclusion that a robust and reliable information source for definitively establishing legal culpability for disappearances remains elusive. Nevertheless, it is a widely acknowledged fact that a significant proportion of disappearances have been perpetrated by crime organizations, often with the complicity or omission of state agents, as detailed within the aforementioned UN report.

Recently, on April, 2025, the Committee on Enforced Disappearances concluded that disappearances in Mexico occur in a systematic and widespread manner, a reality that led the Committee to activate for the first time the Article 34 of the International Convention for the Protection of All Persons against Enforced Disappearance (Nucamendi, Marcos, 2025). Thus, the repercussions and possibilities surrounding this mechanism warrant a discussion for another time.

The necessary reflection, therefore, transcends the purely legal realm, yet crucially requires its foundation. In Mexico, the impunity surrounding the disappeared crisis is not merely a statistic; it represents a profound absence, a vital and social void. A disappeared human is absent from their life, from a specific place and environment where they are awaited, and thus perpetually missing. However, this absence extends to the collective consciousness. Impunity signifies the absence of an history, a narrative that must be reclaimed by our public institutions if we are to function as a community committed to justice and truth, and if our institutions are to respond to this fundamental yearning. Addressing this crisis requires dismantling impunity and contemplating how to transcend this devastating reality by learning from it, and mostly, honoring the memory of the hundreds of thousands of victims. Rancho Izaguirre stands as another harrowing tableau, which, while instilling fear and revulsion, must serve as a catalyst for a profound and urgently needed collective reflection on the excessive violence that plagues Mexico.

To contemplate the victims and to endeavor to reclaim their memory, articulating through our institutions a truth, even if merely juridical—as first step—, regarding these systematic and widespread outrages, is an imperative. The alternative consigns us to the Arendtian banality of evil (Arendt, Hannah, 2016), where an absence of reflection stands as fertile ground for mass violations of individual dignity. The crisis of violence in Mexico —the necromáquina—compounded by a pervasive impunity sustained by an overwhelming and inexplicable institutional and social normalization, a sort of lack of a proper construction of the collective memory in the way Hartog presents it (Hartog, François, 2007). This underscores the urgent need for a reflection that has yet to fully materialize but must come: a collective consensus that positions human dignity as the very nucleus of communal and individual action within Mexico.

As I was making the finals corrections to this text, the devastating news reaches me: María del Carmen Morales, who was searching for her disappeared son, Julian, since the beginning of 2024, committed member of the Colectivo guerreros buscadores de Jalisco —the collective that found and documented the atrocities of the Izaguirre ranch —and her son, Jaime Ramírez Morales, have been brutally murdered in Tlajomulco, Jalisco (Franco, Darwin, 2025b). This is undeniably another grim snapshot of the pervasive violence that destroys families and communities with total impunity across México. 

References. 

If You’re a Libertarian, Why Don’t You Support Reparations?

Juan Pablo Carbajal-Camberos 

PhD candidate Carlos III University of Madrid

In recent years, the “libertarian rhetoric” has gained ground in several Latin American countries through political, business, and religious channels. However, I believe there is a widespread misinterpretation of libertarian principles within the political sphere, leading to glaring inconsistencies and significant intellectual deficiencies.

One of the most notorious examples is the case of Javier Milei in Argentina, a —self-proclaimed— libertarian who fervently advocates for the destruction of the state. He has gone so far as to declare himself “the one who destroys the state from within” (sic), while promoting the privatization of public goods and the free market as a reductionist solution to all social problems. But if those who define themselves as libertarians believe that the market is the only legitimate arbiter of social relations, why do they unconditionally discard compensations when the original appropriations are clearly unequal?

The philosopher Robert Nozick, one of the most prominent theoretical figures of contemporary libertarianism or conservative liberalism—and frequently paraphrased by Milei—formulated a robust and profound conception of justice based on self-ownership, merit, and voluntary contract. Yet even Nozick—much to the surprise of many libertarians—admits that there are historical circumstances (such as slavery, colonialism, or dispossession) that result in unjust appropriations and would require compensation. In other words, Nozick himself admits that a libertarian society cannot be built without first addressing these injustices through substantive reparations.

This point is essential in deconstructing the false ‘libertarian narrative’ often boosted by economic aristocracies. A true libertarian could not endorse a society that privileges freedom without guaranteeing equal conditions for exercising that freedom in competition—could they? If they genuinely valued liberty as a fundamental and guiding principle of society, wouldn’t they seek mechanisms to enable more citizens to achieve higher levels of freedom?

Far from the ideals of the theoretical founders of libertarianism, contemporary libertarian proposals are more akin to a dystopia—like the one illustrated in the film In Time, where the rich live forever and the poor struggle to survive a single day—than the kind of libertarian societies imagined, for instance, by Robert Nozick.

There is, therefore, a fundamental contradiction in today’s self-proclaimed libertarians. They often invoke the names of great libertarian thinkers while ignoring their warnings (or perhaps they didn’t finish reading them). They reject progressive taxation, affirmative action, market regulation, and any attempt at wealth redistribution as threats to some “natural” order. But if they accept that historical injustices exist, how can they advocate for a “free” market that begins from radically unequal starting points?

Many libertarians present their ideology as a pure defense of liberty. But what they often defend is the freedom of the most powerful—the freedom to maintain privilege, not to level the playing field. This view justifies and reproduces structural inequalities under the camouflage of merit. In practical terms, if you were a serious libertarian, you would intuitively accept some egalitarian premises.

True freedom—the kind that allows people to live without fear, without hunger, and with real opportunities—cannot emerge in highly unequal societies or flourish atop historical injustices. To be a serious libertarian, start by demanding equal amounts of liberty and fair chances to access it. Otherwise, what you are defending is not freedom but modern barbarism.