Winnie Byanyima, Executive Director of UNAIDS, addresses the General Assembly 2026 high-level meeting on HIV/AIDS. The meeting discussed the implementation of the Declaration of Commitment on HIV/AIDS and the political declarations on HIV/AIDS. Credit: UN Photo/Manuel Elías
By Shuli Wong
UNITED NATIONS, Aug 21 2026 (IPS)
As the global HIV response shifts toward sustainable, nationally led, and rights-based care, a new UNAIDS framework published this week argues that integration must start with a country’s readiness.
The report — Operationalizing HIV Integration —published on August 17th, introduces the concept of “protective verticality”, which recognizes that countries begin integrating HIV care at different starting points; therefore, integration should begin according to a country’s readiness, epidemiological patterns, financing realities, and health system capacity.
The report paid particular attention to how in active conflict, fragile settings and outbreak zones, countries need to focus on the deliberate preservation of dedicated and stand-alone HIV infrastructure. “Protective verticality” comes into play because integrating this type of care into national health systems can be dangerous when these systems are themselves on the brink of collapse. The core principle is not a “rapid merger of HIV functions into weak or unstable platforms, but protection of essential services while progressively strengthening the systems, partnerships, financing arrangements and safeguards needed for integration,” the report stated. The focus is on protecting before integrating.
To accomplish this, the report put forth a three-phase approach to show that countries should only move forward in integrating HIV care once they have met the minimum safeguards and proven the health systems’ readiness:
The focus on HIV integration comes at a time of one of the largest reductions to international funding in decades. In July, UNAIDS reported that international HIV financing fell 18 percent in 2025, from USD 8.8 billion in 2024 to USD 7.3 billion in 2025, marking the lowest level of funding in over two decades.
“The era of relying on international aid is over,” said Winnie Byanyima, Executive Director of UNAIDS.
In 2025, 1.2 million people became infected with HIV, and 570,000 people died of AIDS-related illnesses. The reduction in international funding combined with the already fragile HIV response is exactly what the Operationalizing HIV Integration framework is designed to navigate.
The HIV and Ebola crisis across the eastern Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) showcases the importance of this framework. In May, as the Ebola outbreak surged across the Ituri, North Kivu and South Kivu provinces, UNAIDS reported that fear of Ebola exposure in health facilities drove some people living with HIV to avoid community antiretroviral therapy distribution points and miss clinic appointments.
In response, UNAIDS helped integrate HIV protections directly into the DRC’s National Ebola Preparedness and Response Plan. UNAIDS also supported the development of an HIV Mitigation Plan to support the continuity of treatment across the affected regions and protect people living with HIV. These actions highlight a real-world example of the “stabilize” and “connect” phases the Operationalizing HIV Integration framework covers.
Sudan illustrates a longer-running version of the same crisis. When war broke out in April 2023, medical supply chains were cut off, and 75 percent of hospitals in conflict areas closed down, disrupting HIV treatment for thousands of people. In January, more than 1,000 days into the conflict, the UN Development Programme (UNDP) reported on its work with the Global Fund and the National Medical Supply Fund to maintain HIV treatment for patients in hard-to-reach settings. The response included setting up mobile primary health facilities to provide HIV testing and establishing cross-border access routes to deliver HIV medicines into Darfur. Due to the years of conflict, displacement, and medical supplies and personnel shortages, Sudan’s health system remains severely damaged. The conditions across Sudan highlight the importance of “protective verticality,” as any rapid and uniform integration of HIV care into the national health system remains difficult without Sudan’s readiness.
These cases highlight why the Operationalizing HIV Integration framework does not treat integration as a global uniform model. Dismantling HIV infrastructure in settings where health systems are actively under siege for integration purposes risks reversing fragile HIV progress. Sustainability and protection need to be examined, as the report argued integration should not be seen as the automatic absorption of all HIV services or systems into broader platforms. Strategic system transformation is needed.
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UN Secretary-General António Guterres addresses the wreath-laying ceremony to commemorate the 23rd Anniversary of the bombing of the United Nations Headquarters in Baghdad. Credit: UN Photo/Mark Garten.
By Naureen Hossain
UNITED NATIONS, Aug 20 2026 (IPS)
World Humanitarian Day celebrates humanitarian workers and the life-saving services they provide under the most complex and often dangerous conditions.
This year, UN leaders are urging the international community to protect humanitarians working in conflict zones and to seek accountability for those who have been injured or killed in their line of duty.
In late 2008, the UN General Assembly designated August 19th as World Humanitarian Day, five years after the terrorist attack at the Canal Hotel in Baghdad, Iraq, where 22 UN staff members were killed, including the then Special Representative of the Secretary-General for Iraq, Sergio Vieira de Mello.
On Wednesday, UN Secretary-General António Guterres paid tribute to the fallen UN staffers on the 23rd anniversary of the terrorist attack, remarking that their legacy “lives on in every humanitarian worker delivering assistance amid conflict, disaster and despair”.
Guterres also noted that international humanitarian laws meant to protect civilians and humanitarian workers are being violated “with alarming frequency and impunity”.
According to the Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA), 2025 set a new record for violence against humanitarian workers, with 712 incidents recorded, in which 350 workers were killed, 322 were injured, 235 kidnapped, and 280 detained. This year alone there have been 136 major incidents, as reported in the Humanitarian Outcomes’ Aid Worker Security Database. It is only indicative of the growing number of incidents against humanitarian workers in recent years. This represents a jump from 300 reported attacks in 2022 to 471 in 2023 and then 634 incidents in 2024.
“Behind those grim numbers… are names. They are colleagues, they are our friends, they are families, and they are the best of us,” said Tom Fletcher, Under-Secretary-General for Humanitarian Affairs and Emergency Relief Coordinator.
Tom Fletcher, Under-Secretary-General for Humanitarian Affairs and Emergency Relief Coordinator, briefs reporters for World Humanitarian Day. Credit: Naureen Hossain/IPS
Fletcher spoke to reporters virtually from Ukraine, where he is visiting affected areas of the country, including those subjected to drone attacks in recent days. He warned of their increasing use against civilians and infrastructure. Fletcher described seeing many drones during his visit, including an incident in which he and his team had to run for cover because they were in the vicinity.
Drones are increasingly prevalent in areas with ongoing crises, like Ukraine, Gaza, Sudan and Somalia. These weapons, which are controlled by humans but can also be directed by AI, have shaped the way civilians lead their lives and affected humanitarians carry out their work.
They create “a sense of collective anxiety” among civilians and aid workers. Yet, there seems to be little to no impunity for drone attacks or for those who carry out these attacks, who would likely be aware of what they are targeting. Drone technology is also getting cheaper and easier to access, putting them in more hands as parties to conflict experiment with their use.
Fletcher acknowledged that they can be used by aid workers for good, such as delivering vaccines or identifying survivors in emergencies. But otherwise, much of their use in the context of conflict has been “inhumane and reckless”.
“I’ve not been anywhere where drones are so much part of the conversation. Everyone – from the kids I met in shelters, civilians, humanitarians, and my colleagues – can tell the difference between the sound of a first-person-view drone and a fibre-optic drone and the medium-range drones or the loitering munitions, which are such a threat to our work,” Fletcher said.
Fletcher called for the international community, and chiefly Member States, to uphold international humanitarian law and to seek accountability toward the parties involved in conflict, including state actors. Member states can and should take stronger measures to conduct independent investigations.
Fletcher made repeated calls for increased dialogue and reflection on international humanitarian law, including how to protect humanitarian workers from emerging technologies like drones. It should be up to member states and the companies behind these technologies to make sure that it “does not outpace humanity” and it “does not outpace accountability”. He also called for engaging in dialogue with the companies involved in manufacturing and distributing drones so they understand the risks they’re creating.
For those that believe in the United Nations or in the spirit of global solidarity, they also believe that member states still have the will to uphold their responsibilities toward international humanitarian law. “If the world has become so transactional and selfish and inward-looking that member states are no longer able or prepared to do this work, then we really are in a grim dystopian reality,” Fletcher told Inter Press Service.
He added that the public can in turn hold their governments to account. “We need a public demand of their leaders that we manage these risks before it’s too late. And for so many of the people that I work with, my fallen colleagues, for so many of the people who we’re here to serve, it is already too late, I’m afraid.”
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Fawzia Koofi, former Deputy Speaker of the Afghan Parliament, says the country is experiencing gender apartheid.
By Ariel F. Dumont
ROME, Aug 20 2026 (IPS)
FIVE years after the Taliban returned to power, Fawzia Koofi, the former Deputy Speaker of the Afghan Parliament, denounces what she describes as “gender apartheid.”
Despite bans, terror, and the systematic erasure of women from society, Afghan women continue to resist through underground schools and online solidarity networks.
Koofi was also a member of the official delegation that represented the Afghan government during the 2020 peace negotiations with the Taliban in Doha, Qatar.
Since the fall of Kabul, she has been living in Europe after being evacuated from Afghanistan, where she continues to advocate for Afghan women and campaign for political alternatives to Taliban rule. Speaking with IPS, Koofi explains how the Taliban have systematically erased women from public life while describing the resilience and determination of Afghan women to continue resisting.
IPS: Three years after their return to power, the Taliban have gradually stripped women of all their rights. Today you describe the situation as genuine gender apartheid. How would you describe the condition of Afghan women?
Fawzia Koofi: Women have gradually lost their rights as the Taliban imposed increasingly restrictive measures through a series of decrees. In 2021, girls were banned from attending secondary school. Then, in 2022, women were barred from universities. In 2024, they were no longer allowed to study medicine, not even gynaecology.
Today, every field of education is closed to them. Compared with the first Taliban regime, the current restrictions are even harsher. Yet Afghan women continue to resist because they know education is essential, and their families understand that it is vital. They attend classes in clandestine home-based schools.
Most of these home schools are run by NGOs that pay teachers’ salaries and sometimes even cover students’ internet connection costs. They also provide online English and computer courses. These schools do not issue diplomas. Nevertheless, students receive an education that sometimes enables them to start an online business, pursue distance learning while remaining underground, or teach other young girls.
IPS: How do these underground schools operate, and how do women manage to escape repression?
Koofi: Officially, these schools do not exist; they are not registered. As a result, whenever the Taliban discover them, they can arrest the teachers, students, or those responsible for running them. That is exactly what happened to one of the networks I helped establish, for example, in Ghor Province, in central-western Afghanistan, and also in Badakhshan, in the country’s northeast. They raided the schools and arrested the staff. In other cases, however, they may be more lenient when members of their families attend these schools.
The curriculum focuses on science, computer skills, and English to help women and girls obtain scholarships, work online, or run online businesses. Some women who manage to build small businesses personally take charge of marketing in an effort to expand their activities. Unfortunately, without diplomas or accreditation, professional opportunities remain extremely limited for most women.
Many Afghan women living in exile devote a large part of their time to providing online education for women inside Afghanistan. We connect them with university students and try to teach them English or other languages. It is regrettable that Western governments repeatedly promise to defend women’s rights while failing to provide the funding or scholarships that would allow Afghan women to continue their studies abroad, return home one day, and help rebuild their country. The Taliban’s declared objective is to erase women from Afghan society in the name of Islamic morality.
IPS: Why do you use the term gender apartheid?
Koofi: Because, little by little, women have been completely erased from public life. Some women tell me that when they walk through the streets of Kabul and encounter Taliban officials or soldiers, they are often looked at as though they were criminals.
They are told: “You are not allowed to work or attend university, so why are you out in the street?”
That is precisely the principle of apartheid: separating a gender or a group of people on the basis of their sex, race, or religion and excluding them from society. That is exactly what the Taliban are doing.
The silence of the international community is deeply regrettable. Some governments occasionally condemn the Taliban system, but that is where it ends.
Even worse, they adopt the same kind of practices.
The United Kingdom, for instance, continues to say, “We support Afghan women,” while refusing to grant student visas for fear that applicants might later seek political asylum. It makes no sense. How many of them would actually do so? Two hundred students? In a situation where they can neither study nor work in their own country, it should not be considered a problem if they apply for asylum.
All these contradictions, together with the international community’s lack of action, only encourage and strengthen the Taliban, who interpret this as a form of recognition and legitimacy.
Many experts say that women are disappearing from public space in Afghanistan. Do you agree with that assessment?
Koofi: Imagine the reality faced by women living there today, who are not even allowed to leave their homes freely. Take humanitarian aid distribution as an example.
In many regions, aid distribution is controlled by the Taliban with the assistance of the local councils they have appointed. Beneficiaries are selected from among relatives or supporters.
Single women, such as war widows with dependent children, or women who lost their jobs under Taliban rule, are excluded from receiving aid. And when they protest, the local council members appointed by the Taliban report them, and they are arrested.
There have been cases of sexual violence in Taliban prisons.
The Taliban have locked down the entire system by systematically controlling the country and all its institutions. If local council members rebel or fail to cooperate sufficiently, they are simply replaced. That is how the system functions.
Yet women continue to resist and to protest in order to survive, although it is far from easy. Some open beauty salons or small shops inside their homes. A few television channels that have reached agreements with the Taliban and comply with censorship are still allowed to employ women, but they are required to wear face masks while on air. In effect, they have become spokespersons for the Taliban, who tightly control the news that they broadcast.
Are there still any spaces where women can enjoy some degree of freedom?
They are becoming increasingly rare. Last month in Herat, in western Afghanistan, the Taliban arrested more than 60 women who were not wearing the burqa but instead a large headscarf in keeping with local tradition. Their families and other women protested, and for once, men also took to the streets. The Taliban responded by opening fire. To them, human life has very little value. They arrest, imprison, torture, and kill.
On April 28, they arrested three members of my family as well as one of our gardeners. They then confiscated my house. My relatives were held in solitary confinement for a week and tortured. We managed to mobilise social media, and my family was eventually released. All this simply because I am able to speak to the media and communicate with the United Nations Assistance Mission in Kabul.
In most cases, however, families do not even know where their loved ones are being held. They can disappear for months. The media do not report these cases because they are controlled by the Taliban. This is the reality for everyone. Women continue to write and to protest through social media, each in their own way.
Do you feel that the world has forgotten Afghanistan and Afghan women?
Yes. The world paved the way for the Taliban’s return.
Let us remember the Doha Agreement signed between the Taliban and the United States, which says absolutely nothing about the condition of women or about human rights in general. A
ll of this encouraged the Taliban.
I took part in those negotiations, and the Taliban told me that women’s rights were not among the priorities of my American and European friends. Unfortunately, they were right.
Now the European Union has invited the Taliban to negotiate the return of Afghans living abroad irregularly or individuals considered to pose a security threat. This approach is rather strange and paradoxical because as long as conditions in Afghanistan do not improve, people will continue to want to leave.
Everyone living in the country wants to leave. I speak by telephone every day with Afghans, and every one of them tells me they want to leave. Without work, without education, and without freedom, there is no dignity.
It is absurd. The European Union is engaging with the Taliban, who will simply exploit these negotiations for their benefit.
The attention of Western countries, and indeed of the world as a whole, is focused on other major conflicts. I believe this is a mistake because, sooner or later, Afghanistan will become a rear base for several violent extremist groups.
The Tehrik-e-Taliban Pakistan (TTP), the Islamic State (ISIS), and Al-Qaeda remain highly active in the region. In fact, Al-Qaeda’s leader was killed only two kilometres from the Taliban presidential palace in July 2022.
To claim that the Taliban will effectively fight these groups while allowing them to govern the country is, in my view, sheer hypocrisy. The world must act before it is too late. We are not asking for NATO troops to return. Rather, we are asking governments not to encourage or support the Taliban.
Unfortunately, I have the feeling that human rights — and women’s rights in particular — are simply not considered a strategic issue or a priority. That is the reality.
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Passersby take part in a pickup football game organized by civilian search collectives on Mexico City's Paseo de la Reforma during the World Cup, July 2026. © 2026 Jorge Peniche/Human Rights Watch
By Jorge Peniche
Aug 19 2026 (IPS)
Weeks have gone by since the World Cup ended. Its aftermath has sparked a broader conversation about who football’s biggest tournament belongs to and how it should look in 2030. One postscript to that conversation comes from Mexico.
In a country with more than 100,000 people registered as disappeared, families searching for their loved ones confronted an unusual question: how do you participate in a national celebration while carrying the grief of a missing loved one?
While fans immersed themselves in 104 matches and the outcome for the teams they were cheering for, the answer by the civilian search collectives, who come together to find missing relatives amid state inaction and often face considerable risks, was disarmingly bold: neither to ignore the tournament nor reject it, but to claim a place in it.
In a country where football pitches can be found from volcanoes to fields of Mexican agave plants, they carved out a pitch of their own in the country’s most emblematic avenue. And then they played football.
Around 9 a.m., the chalk lines for another pitch began to appear on the asphalt of Paseo de la Reforma in Mexico City. It was Mexico’s final day as a World Cup host. Sixteen kilometers north of the Azteca Stadium, the “Glorieta de los Desaparecidos,” a roundabout reclaimed by families as a memorial in 2022, was preparing for another game. These were among the pickup games that collectives organized as spaces of remembrance during the tournament. Pickup games took place the days Mexico was playing.
In a country with more than 100,000 people registered as disappeared, families searching for their loved ones confronted an unusual question: how do you participate in a national celebration while carrying the grief of a missing loved one?
The games followed a simple script: small teams of three to five faced off until they reached a set number of goals. Some were part of the collectives; others –including football fans– were passersby who joined. Some became regulars; children particularly. In that convergence, football became a vehicle for telling stories of absence.
“Preparations started one year before the initial kick-in,” Jorge Verástegui, one of the initiative’s organizers, told me.
His brother and nephew, Antonio and Antonio de Jesús, disappeared in the northern state of Coahuila in January 2009, when the Zetas cartel dominated much of the region.
“We were coming from a very frustrating year of dialogues with the government, so many of us, searching for our loved ones, asked how to engage with a World Cup taking place in Mexico,” he said, wearing a Mexican national team jersey emblazoned with a large picture of his brother. Organizers distributed over 300 similar jerseys, so families could add photos of their missing loved ones. Search collectives joined from across the country.
For César Contreras, a lawyer at Centro Prodh, a human rights group that has represented families for decades, football became a way “to collectivize joy but also reflect on how we got here.” The interventions wanted to challenge the stigma of disappearances as a “sad topic that nobody wants to hear about.”
When children joined, one father told Contreras he would later explain to his son who he had been playing with.
Supporters created the “Ajolote Buscador” a reworking of the salamander that is the city mascot, that became a regular presence at the pickup games. In Guadalajara, another Ajolote denounced the lack of resources for identification.
Mobilization was not without backlash from government authorities. U.N. experts raised concerns about restrictions faced by families while trying to make their voices heard. And violence against those seeking answers or accountability continued. During the World Cup, two searchers were killed, one in Guanajuato and another in Sinaloa.
Yet, as Andrea Horcasitas, one researcher who has worked alongside search collectives put it, “in a context marked by exclusion from the city and restricted access, collectives sent a message of belonging: this celebration is also ours, and here we are,”
Among the families who joined the pitches were Javier Barajas and María del Tránsito Piña, teachers who were originally from Guanajuato.
Their daughter, Guadalupe, disappeared in Salvatierra in February 2020. Her brother, Francisco Javier, joined the local search commission and helped locate her remains in one of Mexico’s largest mass graves. Three months later, he was killed. Investigations linked both crimes to the same criminal group. Their parents were later displaced from their home state.
Football was a family ritual, their mother told me. Francisco Javier and his mother watched matches together, while Javier and Guadalupe prepared the snacks.
“Now, I can’t watch football. It’s just too painful,” she said.
Yet the couple eventually found their way to the pitches. Barajas played several matches as a tribute to his son and daughter. For his wife, the pickup games offered a distinct space: “I can feel them when I wear that jersey with their photos.”
The resistance to FIFA’s commercialization projects is a reminder that we ultimately cherish these tournaments because of the stories they leave behind. Mexico’s search collectives offer one of them.
For the families, the work continues. Ensuring their security remains an urgent task, particularly in places where lethal violence against them concentrates. So does advancing investigations grounded in local realities and reducing the backlog in forensic identification.
Their message still resounds: this tournament was also theirs, because their stories are part of Mexico.
Jorge Peniche is a senior Americas researcher at Human Rights Watch.
La star de la musique béninoise, Angélique Kidjo a reçu son étoile sur le Hollywood Walk of Fame dans la soirée de ce mardi 18 août 2026 à Los Angeles.
Nouvelle distinction pour Angélique Kidjo. Elle a reçu ce mardi 18 août 2026, son étoile sur le Hollywood Walk of Fame. Cette distinction fait d'elle, la première artiste africaine de l'histoire à être immortalisée sur le Hollywood Walk of Fame dans la catégorie « enregistrement ».
Cette nouvelle distinction vient consacrer quatre décennies d'une carrière internationale exceptionnelle au cours de laquelle l'artiste a fait rayonner la musique africaine sur les plus grandes scènes internationales.
La cérémonie officielle de remise a eu lieu en présence d'une délégation du gouvernement béninois représenté par le ministre de la Culture, des Arts, et du Patrimoine, Yassine Latoundji, et l'ambassadeur du Bénin aux Etats-Unis, Agniola Ahouanmenou.
Quelques images de la cérémonie officielle de remise d'étoile