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Credit: Liv Arnesen

By Liv Arnesen
OSLO, Norway, Oct 28 2026 (IPS)

A global boycott of Antarctic krill products is gathering support. As a Norwegian, I want my country – the world’s largest krill-fishing nation – to change course when it comes to protecting Antarctica.

Scientists, explorers and ocean advocates are urging consumers to stop buying supplements and pet food containing Antarctic krill and to avoid farmed fish raised on feed containing it. This follows earlier moves by retailers – from Holland & Barrett in Britain to dm-drogerie markt in Germany and supermarket giants Woolworths and Coles in Australia – to remove krill supplements from their shelves.

I hope my government is listening. This boycott is highlighting a little-known industry and putting pressure on governments that support it. From 19 October, the 27 members of CCAMLR – the international commission responsible for conserving Antarctic marine life – will gather in Hobart, Australia, to negotiate fishing rules and marine protection for the last pristine place on our planet. Norway’s choices will matter far beyond our borders.

Liv Arnesen

In 1994, I skied alone to the South Pole, as the first woman to do so solo and unsupported. Six years later, Ann Bancroft and I crossed Antarctica, skiing from Queen Maud Land through the South Pole to the Ross Sea. Those journeys made headlines worldwide, highlighting women’s achievements. For me, they began a lifelong connection with Antarctica.

Antarctica taught me what it means to live on nature’s terms. Its vastness felt almost timeless. But as I have returned as a guide and lecturer, and paddled through its waters, my sense of its permanence has given way to concern. Human activity is changing this remote place. What once seemed beyond our reach is increasingly exposed to our appetite for resources.

Among those is krill: small, shrimp-like animals that sustain whales, penguins, seals and seabirds. Yet we harvest krill for supplements, pet food and aquaculture feed while climate change alters the conditions on which the ecosystem depends.

This month, scientists reported that the chinstrap penguin population on Zavodovski Island has declined by almost two-thirds since 2011, as warming waters are changing the availability of krill, their main food source. This raises an urgent question: how can we justify expanding industrial fishing when the ecosystem it depends on is changing so profoundly?

As the largest Antarctic krill-fishing nation, Norway cannot continue to claim leadership in ocean protection while treating the needs of Antarctic wildlife as secondary to commercial expansion.

For two consecutive seasons, the krill fleet has reached the 620,000-tonne catch threshold months before the season’s end, forcing an early closure. This is not evidence that governance is working. That total catch figure masks how heavily the fishing became concentrated in feeding grounds for whales, penguins and seals after regional limitations expired in 2024.

Krill may be abundant across a vast ocean, but wildlife needs its food where it can reach it. A penguin feeding chicks must return repeatedly to its colony. Krill hundreds of kilometres away cannot replace food removed from nearby waters. Fisheries management must account for those local needs.

CCAMLR decisions require consensus among all 27 members. Norway cannot secure an agreement alone, but the Norwegian government must use its influence to push for stronger protection. It must support a moratorium on Antarctic krill fishing until binding, science-based rules protect vital wildlife feeding grounds. Fishing should resume only when up-to-date evidence shows it will not harm the ecosystem.

Protected areas need effective restrictions that safeguard habitats and wildlife in the long term. Norway must support all the proposed marine protected areas – around the Antarctic Peninsula, East Antarctica and the Weddell Sea – and work to secure their adoption. These areas must provide meaningful, lasting protection, without making it conditional on permission to catch even more krill elsewhere. China and Russia must stop blocking their adoption.

The Norwegian krill industry says it supports marine protection and better fisheries management. That commitment should include accepting a moratorium. But we should also ask: why do Norwegian companies continue taking this food source from Antarctica at all? Algae-based sources of the omega-3s used in supplements already exist. A moratorium is the immediate priority. In the longer term, governments and businesses should invest in alternatives, and plan a phase-out of commercial krill fishing.

Norway’s krill industry is closely tied to one of the country’s wealthiest billionaires. Our government must explain whose interests it is defending: private businesses or one of Earth’s last great wildernesses?

I have carried Norway’s flag across Antarctica. I want our delegation to carry a clear commitment to its protection into Hobart: support a moratorium on commercial krill fishing, secure meaningful protected areas and reject higher catches.

The world is watching. Norway should give it a reason to believe that protection can still prevail over profit.

Liv Arnesen is Norwegian polar explorer, educator and ambassador for Our Antarctica

IPS UN Bureau

 

 

 

 

Le Fonds international de développement agricole (FIDA) et le gouvernement béninois ont signé un accord de financement de 37,1 millions de dollars, soit environ 21,7 milliards de FCFA, destiné au Projet d'appui à l'insertion professionnelle et à l'entrepreneuriat agricole (ProPEA). Prévu sur une durée de huit ans, ce programme dispose d'un budget global de 149,1 millions de dollars, équivalant à près de 87,2 milliards de FCFA.

Le ProPEA bénéficie de l'appui financier du FIDA. Un accord de 21,7 milliards de FCFA est signé avec le gouvernement. Il vise notamment la création de 21 000 emplois pour les jeunes à l'horizon 2033.
Le ProPEA entend contribuer au développement d'entreprises agricoles résilientes, au renforcement des chaînes de valeur agroalimentaires et à l'amélioration des opportunités économiques en milieu rural. Pour atteindre ces objectifs, le programme prévoit une approche combinant formation professionnelle, accompagnement entrepreneurial, accès au financement, conseil aux entreprises, assurance et développement de partenariats productifs.

Près de 50 000 ménages ruraux ciblés
Le projet selon La Marina, prévoit d'accompagner près de 50 000 ménages ruraux, représentant plus de 360 000 personnes réparties dans les différents pôles de développement agricole du Bénin. Les jeunes devraient constituer selon le média, 60 % des bénéficiaires, contre 45 % pour les femmes et 2 % pour les personnes handicapées.
À travers ces objectifs, le programme vise à favoriser l'insertion professionnelle des jeunes, à soutenir les initiatives économiques en milieu rural et à renforcer l'inclusion des groupes ciblés dans les activités agricoles. L'accompagnement proposé doit également permettre aux bénéficiaires de développer des compétences techniques et entrepreneuriales adaptées aux besoins des filières agroalimentaires.

De l'exploitation agricole à l'entreprise
L'entrepreneuriat constitue l'un des axes centraux du ProPEA. Selon La Marina, les interventions prévues porteront sur la formation technique et entrepreneuriale des porteurs de projets, afin de faciliter la création, la structuration et le développement d'activités agricoles génératrices de revenus durables.
Le programme prévoit également des mesures destinées à améliorer l'accès au foncier. À ce titre, 6 000 hectares devraient être mobilisés pour les activités de production végétale. Des Espaces de pré-insertion agricole (EPIA) sont aussi annoncés pour permettre aux jeunes bénéficiaires d'accéder à des terres sécurisées et de développer leurs projets dans de meilleures conditions.
Les actions concerneront plusieurs filières à potentiel de croissance, notamment l'agriculture, l'aquaculture et l'aviculture. Le programme prévoit, en outre, un accompagnement des microentreprises et petites entreprises agricoles pour améliorer leur accès aux marchés, aux financements et aux mécanismes de gestion des risques.

Renforcer les chaînes de valeur agroalimentaires
Au-delà de la production, le ProPEA entend encourager le développement d'activités de transformation et de commercialisation des produits agricoles. Cette orientation vise à permettre aux entreprises accompagnées de mieux valoriser leur production, de diversifier leurs sources de revenus et de consolider leur position sur les marchés.
À travers le financement annoncé et les différents dispositifs d'accompagnement prévus, le programme ambitionne ainsi de renforcer le tissu entrepreneurial agricole béninois et de favoriser la création d'emplois durables en milieu rural. Son déploiement s'inscrit dans une perspective de développement des chaînes de valeur agroalimentaires et d'amélioration des perspectives professionnelles offertes aux jeunes et aux autres catégories de bénéficiaires ciblées.

F. A. A.

Credit: Shutterstock

By James Alix Michel
VICTORIA, Seychelles, Oct 28 2026 (IPS)

On 21 September 1976, less than three months after independence, Seychelles took its seat in the General Assembly of the United Nations. We became the 145th member of the Organisation. For a young nation of scattered islands in the Indian Ocean, with a small population and no army to speak of, it was far more than a ceremony. It was a promise that, in the family of nations, size would not decide whose voice was heard.

Fifty years later, I still believe in that promise. But I also know that it has never been kept automatically. It has to be renewed by every generation of leaders, and it now faces one of its hardest tests.

On 24 October, the United Nations marked its 81st anniversary. In his final United Nations Day message as Secretary-General, António Guterres reminded the world that the UN is not only an organisation but an idea: that humanity’s future depends on our ability to work together to advance peace, development and human rights.

Those words land at a sobering moment. Wars continue in several regions, often with civilians paying the highest price. The climate crisis is accelerating faster than our responses to it. Inequality is widening within and between nations. New technologies are advancing more quickly than our ability to govern them. And the UN itself is under severe financial strain, while its Security Council is too often paralysed by the very powers entrusted with keeping the peace.

It is in this climate that the Security Council is now deliberating, through its private straw polls, on who should become the tenth Secretary-General when Mr Guterres’s term ends on 31 December. For small island states, it matters more than most people realise.

Why should a small island care so deeply about who leads the United Nations? Because for nations like ours, multilateralism is not a matter of preference. It is a matter of survival.

We will never be the largest economies or the strongest military powers. Our protection has always been the rule of law, the strength of partnership and a seat at the table where every nation, large or small, has one vote. When the rules hold, a nation of just over 100,000 people can stand beside a nation of a billion and be heard. When the rules weaken, the small are the first to be pushed aside.

The UN has given small states some of their greatest achievements. The Law of the Sea gave island nations sovereign rights over vast ocean territories. The Paris Agreement set the aim of limiting warming to 1.5 degrees, a line that small islands fought hard to draw. And in January this year, the High Seas Treaty entered into force, bringing nearly two thirds of the world’s ocean, for too long a lawless frontier, under a framework for conservation and shared benefit. None of these would have been possible without the patient, often frustrating, work of multilateral diplomacy.

Yet I will not pretend the system is working as it should. A Security Council designed for the world of 1945 does not reflect the world of 2026. Africa, home to more than a quarter of the UN’s members, still has no permanent seat. Climate finance promised to vulnerable nations arrives slowly, in complicated forms, and often as loans that deepen debt.

The answer to an imperfect system of cooperation, however, is better cooperation, not less.

So what should the world, and especially its smaller nations, ask of the next Secretary-General?

First, courage. The Secretary-General has no army and a limited budget. The office’s greatest power is moral authority: the willingness to speak plainly to the powerful, to name injustice and to stand with those who have no other platform.

Second, the ability to build bridges. In a world divided between rival blocs, the UN’s leader must be trusted in Washington and Beijing, in Moscow and Brussels, but also in Victoria, Suva and Port Louis. Small states, which cannot afford permanent enemies, understand this better than most.

Third, a commitment to put the climate and the ocean at the centre of global security. For island nations, rising seas, coral collapse and extreme storms are not distant environmental issues. They are threats to our existence. In October, the International Union for Conservation of Nature warned that 96 percent of the world’s shallow-water coral reef ecosystems face an extremely high risk of collapse by 2075. Here in Seychelles, October storms have reminded us how fragile our coastlines and communities are. The next Secretary-General must treat the health of the ocean as the foundation of peace, food security and prosperity, and must ensure that the High Seas Treaty moves quickly from text to action as its first Conference of the Parties approaches.

Fourth, reform that people can feel. That means more than reorganising departments in New York. It must mean a fairer Security Council, a financial architecture that rewards resilience instead of punishing vulnerability, and a UN that delivers on the ground, where families, farmers and fishers live.

There is also a question of history. In 81 years, the United Nations has never been led by a woman. Without favouring any candidate, I believe it is time for the Organisation to show, at its highest level, the equality it rightly asks of its members.

Fifty years ago, Seychelles came to the United Nations as one of its smallest members, full of hope. We came because we believed that the ocean which surrounds us connects us to the world rather than isolating us from it. That belief has not changed.

The next Secretary-General will inherit a divided world and a weary institution. But they will also inherit the most important idea humanity has ever agreed upon: that our future is shared, and that no nation, however small, should face it alone.

Dialogue over division. Cooperation over confrontation. Solidarity over fear. Those words deserve to be more than a message for one day in October. They should be the test of the next ten years.

James Alix Michel is a former President of Seychelles, a Blue Economy pioneer and a champion of ocean protection.

IPS UN Bureau

 

 

 

 

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Farwiza Farhan speaks about saving the Leuser Ecosystem at a Global Tipping Points Conference 2026. Credit: Zofeen Ebrahim/IPS

By Zofeen Ebrahim
KUALA LUMPUR, Oct 28 2026 (IPS)

Forty-year-old Farwiza Farhan’s eyes light up instantly when she talks about the Leuser Ecosystem – a national strategic area encompassing a national park, a wildlife reserve, protected forests and other land uses.

“It’s rare to have such a large landscape remain intact despite continuous encroachment by developers, which is shrinking the habitat of the tiger, the elephant, the rhino and the orangutan,” she says. At 2.7 million hectares, Leuser remains a rare stronghold for wildlife in a country where many forests have been decimated. “Leuser still stands, and the wildlife thrives there,” she says with a certain pride. “This is why the landscape is so incredibly special,” she says.

Farhan, a Sumatran forest conservator who heads Forest, Nature & Empowerment Aceh (HAkA), spoke to IPS on the sidelines of the Global Tipping Points Conference 2026, held at Sunway University, Kuala Lumpur, from October 12 to15. HAkA works to protect and restore the Leuser through conservation campaigns and meaningful community participation.

“If we don’t pay heed, we will push these animals closer to extinction,” she warned. “There are fewer than 250 tigers and maybe just 100 rhinos left.”

Corporations are shrinking wildlife habitats, says Farhan, pointing to large-scale gold mining and palm oil plantations, some spanning up to 10,000 hectares. “They’re located next to one another and compete for more space than anyone could ever,” she explained.

But wildlife is not the only thing losing space. According to Farhan, 500,000 people live within the ecosystem, and five million live outside it. Their lives are closely tied to the forest, which they use sparingly – consuming what they grow, unlike mining companies and corporations that extract resources on a large scale.

“Many concessions are located near towns and transport routes, making it easier to move commodities. But when forests are cleared, downstream communities bear the consequences, while upstream communities lose access to their land. Palm oil companies often take over land outside protected areas and push the communities living there further away,” said Farhan.

The costs of forest destruction, however, extend beyond the loss of wildlife. Women in communities that depend on the forest often bear a disproportionate burden.

“They are not scared of big multinational companies; they are truly militant in the way they respond to corporations they know will take away their land and forests. They feel the companies will slowly destroy their lives, so they might as well die fighting to stop them from bulldozing their village,” she said.

Farhan saw how women responded when disaster struck last year.

“Disasters force people to relocate, and that’s when women face immediate security concerns. In crowded camps, they may lack safe access to water and sanitation, and their privacy is often compromised. Yet they continue to shoulder the bulk of care work — looking after children and the elderly — while often losing their livelihoods and income.”

She says she has “massive respect and appreciation” for these women.

Sadly, these same women, who have a deep connection with the forest, are often excluded from policy-making forums where their voices matter most, she said.

Orangutan and infant. Credit: Anton Leddin/Wikimedia

She witnessed their knowledge and role in decision-making during Aceh’s catastrophic floods and landslides last November, triggered by torrential rains. “They understood local realities and were the first to mobilise and respond,” she pointed out.

And while many people see women huddled together as gossiping, Farhan playfully calls it “stakeholder mapping”.

“They know who’s doing what, which community members have betrayed them by taking bribes from corporations, and they know exactly what to do when that happens. Elderly women are the best: they have wisdom and respect, and they’ve seen it all before. They are the ones who hold the fort for their communities. Sometimes, an elderly woman will approach a young man engaged in illegal logging and ask, ‘Whose son are you?’ The question carries enormous weight.”

Working with communities has humbled Farhan.

“Our education taught us to speak in certain way, but not to listen. I think we need to invest more time in really listening to communities. We feel that because we are educated, we are there to educate, but in reality, the local people know and understand their problems and have the solutions.”

Spending a day alone in a village was all it took for her to realise how out of her depth she was. “Being left alone in the forest made me realise how quickly I could get lost without appropriate tools.”

Although her ancestry is Acehnese, she is uncomfortable identifying herself as indigenous because she and her family have not experienced the discrimination and lack of opportunities faced by indigenous communities.

“I can’t say that I shared those experiences directly,” she says, acknowledging that her education has given her privileges others have not had. “Identity-wise, I’m confused.”

Yet, she says, she understands their struggle and stands with them. However, she would not use that ‘Indigeneity’ card to gain access to funding and opportunities meant to expand opportunities for Indigenous peoples, as it is “unfair to the people who are actually going through the struggles and working hard to get the opportunities.”

A marine biologist by qualification, she also enrolled in a PhD programme in anthropology, which she later gave up. “I built the organisation while I was doing my PhD, but it died in the process,” she admits. “The work to protect forests was a lot more interesting,” she says with a smile.

But forests were not always her focus. By her own admission, her initial motivation was to protect the ocean because of her love for the underwater world.

Her degree in marine biology helped her understand ocean ecosystems better. She returned to the place where she had first fallen in love with the ocean, only to find it destroyed.

“In 2007, in a remote part of Aceh, Pulau Weh, I saw for the first time how El Niño had devastated an entire coral reef. I felt powerless,” she recalls. Realising how little she could do as an individual, she turned her attention to the forests. “Maybe protecting forests would be easier,” she thought.

But that was easier said than done. When she was hired to work for the government’s forest agency and the Leuser Ecosystem Management Authority, she accepted the offer without asking about the salary or her job description.

“I just wanted to work in conservation. I thought I’d be running around under the canopy of trees, going on patrol and watching wildlife. It turned out to be anything but that. I was stuck behind a desk with a computer in front!”

The job turned out to be in public relations. She was the spokesperson but rarely got the opportunity to speak.

“It was a very confusing place; I got sent to meetings to speak about forest allocations, spatial planning, environmental impact assessments…things I did not learn at university, things I was not equipped to deal with.”

Fate had other plans. All these experiences helped her understand power imbalances and conflicting interests. She also saw firsthand how people tasked with protecting forests could end up destroying them.

She stayed on until the government agency was shut down after its efforts to stop powerful interests from destroying forests met with opposition. She then joined her “stubborn and persistent” colleagues to help find HAkA.

She recalls countless half cups of coffee at cafés, bought because they could barely afford more, as they used the cafés’ Wi-Fi to brainstorm.

“We were not going to give up on protecting the Leuser ecosystem,” she said.

In 2011, Farhan and her organisation were among the environmental campaigners who challenged the government in court over its decision to grant concession to a palm oil company, in Aceh’s Rawa Tripa peat swamp forest (also in Leuser), despite a two-year nationwide moratorium on new concessions having been imposed three months earlier.

PT Kallista Alam, the company, pursued a series of appeals all the way up to the Supreme Court. In 2013, the apex court rejected the appeal and ruled in favour of the community. Yet it took until 2015 for the company’s USD 26.5 million fine to be upheld, and a decade for the company to pay the fine for the environmental damage caused by using fire to clear ten square kilometres of land.

“The company has paid part of the fine to the Ministry of Finance but not to the community,” said Farhan, a campaigner who witnessed the fire.

But she added many actors contributed to the victory, including people who trained judges and attorneys to better understand what it meant to quantify environmental loss in economic terms.

“Judges don’t come from biology or ecology backgrounds,” she said, explaining that judges in Indonesia undergo environmental training to understand that burning forests and replacing them with monoculture plantations is not reforestation.

Farhan’s work is far from over. As long as the extractive economy persists, the threats will remain. If it isn’t palm oil plantations, it will be gold mining or attempts to redraw boundaries.

Her organisation challenges these threats through legal action, spatial planning and, at times, by helping the government evaluate permits across districts and landscapes.

“There are times when government decisions need to be criticised and challenged, and we do that,” she said.

IPS UN Bureau Report

 

 

 

 

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