Across the globe people are standing up for justice, dignity, and basic rights. But far too often, they are paying for these basic necessities with their freedom, their safety, even their lives.

Why, in 2025, does speaking out for justice still cost an arm and a leg?

As human rights defenders ourselves, we ask this not as a rhetorical flourish, but from the depths of personal experience. The world is witnessing a sharp rise in protest repression, even in so-called democratic states. And the silence — or worse, complicity — of the international community is deafening.

The CIVICUS Monitor paints a worrying picture: only 40 out of 198 countries maintain an open civic space, while just over 72% of the world’s population lives under repressive or closed conditions — a rise from the previous year. Freedom of expression violations appeared in 49 countries (45% of all cases), while peaceful assembly and association violations made up 29% and 26%, respectively. Alarmingly, detention of human rights defenders was recorded in at least 58 countries. 

Such repression can take place anywhere, from authoritarian countries to what are considered to be mature democracies. With nations previously known for their civil liberties being added to the CIVICUS Watchlist for rapid decline in said civic freedoms. 

When democracies tighten civic space, authoritarian actors feel empowered to escalate their own crackdowns. This is a dangerous global trend.

Both of us have personal experience facing down authoritarianism.

Takaedza comes from Zimbabwe, where his journey as a protest organizer taught him what state repression looks like up close. Today, he coordinates global efforts to protect the right to peaceful protest at CIVICUS, working with brave activists who’ve been beaten, jailed, and silenced — simply for demanding a better future. From his own experience, he’s lived their fears and their hopes.

Asma was arrested in Bahrain for organizing protests. She’s now exiled in France because she dared to demand rights that should never be negotiable. In Bahrain, she was told she could live a comfortable life so long as she didn’t open her mouth. If you talk about women’s rights, prisoners’ rights, peaceful assembly, or freedom of expression suddenly, you’re a criminal.

Today, Asma leads the Stand As My Witness campaign at CIVICUS, which advocates for the release of imprisoned human rights defenders around the world. Since its launch in 2020 on Nelson Mandela Day, Stand As My Witness has helped contribute to the release of 31 jailed human rights defenders around the world, from Burundi to Saudi Arabia, Algeria to Zimbabwe.

When defenders are imprisoned, they often feel abandoned, but just knowing their names are being spoken and stories shared gives them strength.

We do this work professionally, but we also know what it means to be persecuted and to feel abandoned, unseen. To the contrary, we know how life-changing it can be when the world stands in solidarity with you.

Across the globe voices calling for what is just are considered to be going against the grain, including Georgia’s anti-foreign agent law demonstrations, Kenya’s #RejectFinanceBill movement, Mozambique’s electoral justice protests, and Iran’s Women, Life, Freedom uprising. Across these calls there is a clear, singular pattern: the price of peaceful protest is becoming unbearable.

Civic space is shrinking at an alarming rate, and when countries that are supposed to model democracy begin restricting their own civic spaces, it sends a dangerous signal. It emboldens authoritarian regimes to crack down even harder, knowing there will be little consequence.

More than a threat to human rights, this global assault on protest rights is an attempt to smother change before it even begins.

To be persecuted for speaking out is not just a legal issue — it’s emotional, mental, deeply personal. The results are isolation and  fear, and not to mention the constant threat that your activism might cost your freedom — or worse, your life.

But it’s also resilience. It’s the strength of knowing you are not alone. And that’s where you, the reader, come in.

This fight is yours too. Here’s you, and the rest of the world, can stand with those risking everything for justice.

First, always call out  repressive policies.

Some regimes are incredibly sensitive to international perception. Public exposure through social media, op-eds, open letters, and campaigns like Stand As MyWitness can be a powerful deterrent. In Asma’s case, sustained international pressure contributed to her release from detention and that of some family members. Naming and shaming works. Use your voice.

Second, practice global solidarity so human rights defenders feel seen and not forgotten.

When defenders are imprisoned, they often feel abandoned, but just knowing their names are being spoken and stories shared gives them strength. Personal letters, solidarity statements, and international acknowledgment matter. Solidarity isn’t symbolic — it’s strategic. It reminds governments that the world is watching, and assures imprisoned activists that they are not alone.

Third, if you can, provide real support such as legal, logistical, and mental health aid.

Many human rights defenders operate under immense strain with limited resources. Donating to or supporting trusted groups who provide legal assistance, emergency relocation, digital security or trauma care can help ease the burden and provide material benefits for whatever activists under threat might need in the moment. Likewise, attending trials (even virtually)  can deter abuse and spotlight injustice. Advocating for mental health care, including for activists seeking asylum, is both necessary and long overdue.

Help shift the narrative from passive sympathy to active solidarity.

Along those same lines, before you look abroad, fight for your rights at home and call on your local government to respond. That means pushing your elected officials to speak out on local and global abuses, provide asylum for persecuted human rights defenders, and safeguard civic space as a whole. Democracy isn’t static. When we lose it in one place, we all feel the effects. If you lose your ability to protest peacefully in your own country, it will be even harder to stand up for the rights of others across borders.

Next, use your platform, whatever it is. Whether you’re an artist, educator, influencer, student, or professional — use your space of expression to amplify human rights defenders’ voices. Bring their stories into classrooms, to the media, and to workplaces. Advocate for them publicly. Help shift the narrative from passive sympathy to active solidarity.

Last of all, don’t forget to celebrate human rights defenders. Too often, we hear about human rights defenders only at negative times such as when they’re imprisoned or killed. But their courage deserves celebration. Nominating them for awards, fellowships, and storytelling projects honors their resistance and affirms their dignity.

Despite the crackdowns, we are not without hope because we’ve seen throughout the Stand As My Witness campaign how solidarity and activism works. Change is possible as long as across the globe, people organize, resist, and imagine a more just and free world.

If we want a world where justice is not punished, where peaceful protest is not criminalized, where human rights defenders do not pay with their lives — then we must act now. Not later. Not when it’s convenient. But now. Solidarity is our only currency for survival.

Takaedza Tafirei is Programme Coordinator for Freedom of Peaceful Assembly at CIVICUS and a former protest organiser.

Asma Darwish is a Bahraini human rights defender and Lead for Stand As My Witness Campaign & MENA Advocacy at CIVICUS.