Autor: global-affair

The promise of a digital future still leaves behind those who need it most. My goal is to ensure that all children and adolescents can access and grow within safe, equitable, and sustainable digital spaces because digital transformation must also be a human transformation.

I was 11 when I discovered Amino, a social network that promised connection and belonging. At first, it felt like a refuge, but soon I saw how unsafe it could be. There was bullying, no real content moderation, and strangers much older than me sending inappropriate messages. My parents wanted to help, but they didn’t know how to.

The digital world was still new, confusing, and full of risks. That experience shaped my activism: it showed me that the Internet doesn’t change on its own, it needs people who question, humanize, and rebuild it.

For me, working for digital rights means creating spaces where technology amplifies possibilities to learn and participate without fear. As technology evolves, our rights must evolve too.

Digital rights in Argentina

In Argentina, young people face intertwined structural inequalities. Access to technology is still unequal, especially in rural or low-income areas. Many depend on public Wi-Fi or shared devices to study. And while misinformation and online violence continues to circulate and spread, the policies needed to address these risks are lagging behind.

The lack of comprehensive sex education leaves many adolescents vulnerable to misinformation about their rights and relationships, while hate speech and adultcentrism continue to silence youth voices. Economic instability only deepens this crisis, shaping our (lack of) opportunities.

Recently, my work on Nuestro Voto Cuenta (“Our Vote Counts”), a campaign on youth voting and disinformation supporting first-time voters across Argentina, revealed how hate speech and online hostility often discourage young people from participating in public life. Many of us also fall into cycles of misinformation fuelled by the addictive nature of social media. For activists, this reality is even more intense, constant exposure to distressing news leaves emotional traces that are hard to erase.

Teaching digital empathy

One of my main concerns is how the Internet affects our emotional well-being: the pressure to be constantly available, the new forms of violence in digital spaces, and the exposure to hate all shape how we see ourselves. Many of my friends have faced harassment, body shaming, or manipulation online. I’ve seen how these experiences silently damage self-esteem, trust and fuel shame. That’s why I believe we must not only teach digital literacy but also digital empathy, because the Internet should connect us and care for us by design.

I’ve learned that activism must include rest because caring for others begins with caring for yourself.

Paloma Navarro Candia

Being a young activist today is both empowering and exhausting. Information never stops, and the pressure to act, post, and respond can be overwhelming. There’s a constant sense of not doing enough.

I’ve learned that activism must include rest because caring for others begins with caring for yourself. Protecting mental health isn’t a luxury; it’s what makes long-term change possible. Activism is a marathon, not a sprint. When we protect our well-being, we lead with clarity, empathy and hope. For me, this means setting digital boundaries, learning to disconnect without guilt, and trusting others. Writing helps me process emotions and reminds me why I started.

Staying resilient

One of the projects closest to my heart is Staying Resilient While Trying to Save the World Vol. 3, a workbook created by and for young changemakers. It’s a companion that reminds us how emotional sustainability is part of activism. I contributed a chapter on Internet and mental health, exploring how digital environments influence our emotions. Social media can be overwhelming, but it also offers space to connect, create and find support. I wrote another chapter on gender-based digital violence based on the inspiring case of Olimpia, to show how to stay safe online, set boundaries, and understand that the Internet is not neutral – it shapes how we connect and how we heal.

Young people should read the new workbook Staying Resilient While Trying to Save The World, Vol 3, because it’s tailored to under 18s and reminds us that we’re not alone. Resilience isn’t about enduring everything, it’s about finding strength in connection. It invites activists to be honest about their struggles, to set limits, and to keep fighting with kindness toward others and toward themselves. When used with empathy and awareness, technology can amplify connection instead of division. Digital citizenship isn’t just about being online; it’s about participating with kindness, learning from one another, and building a more just, compassionate world together.

Connecting children with human rights leaders

Amnesty International has played a key role in empowering young activists like me. It offers tools, mentorship, and global networks that help transform ideas into real impact. Through training in campaign strategy and advocacy, Amnesty connects children, adolescents and youth with experienced human rights leaders and ensures that our voices aren’t just heard, they’re trusted. I believe in the power of alliances that cross borders, in the voices that multiply when they work together, and in futures built with empathy, knowledge, and shared purpose.

Over time, I’ve learned that leadership isn’t about having the loudest voice, it’s about active listening. My conviction is simple: ideas only matter when they become action and action only transforms when it begins with dialogue.

Staying Resilient While Trying To Save The World, Volume 1 and Volume 2 are also available to read.  

The post Paloma: “When we protect our well-being, we lead with clarity and hope” appeared first on Amnesty International.

One of the girls who sued the Ecuadorian government to end gas flaring in the Amazon will attend the environmental summit to demand that the court ruling be enforced.

By: Leonela Moncayo

I was born in the Ecuadorian Amazon. My house faces an oil well. While other girls grew up with a view of mountains or parks, looked out at fiery monsters. Rather than the sunrise over the treetops, I saw the flame of a gas flare that never went out. 

For as long as I can remember, the air has smelled of smoke. Sometimes, while playing, I smelled an odour of burnt plastic. My friends and I thought this was normal, that it was just how the jungle smelled. I later realized that it wasn’t natural. It was pollution.

For as long as I can remember, the air has smelled of smoke. Sometimes, while playing, I smelled an odour of burnt plastic. My friends and I thought this was normal, that it was just how the jungle smelled. I later realized that it wasn’t natural. It was pollution.

Since I was very little, I have seen how oil extraction harms nature, spoiling the beauty of the plants, animals and water. I have also watched as people in my community and family fall ill. What hurts the most is the feeling that no one has taken responsibility for causing so much harm.

Living next to an active oil well changes your life.

When I was 11 years old, I went on a trip organized by the Union of People Affected by Texaco’s Oil Operations (UDAPT). The goal of the trip, which we called the “toxic tour,” was to show the impacts of oil extraction. I remember standing under a flare releasing gases that heat up the atmosphere, like methane, which traps 84 times more heat than CO₂. I looked at the ground and my heart clenched: there were thousands of dead and charred insects. Tiny, lifeless bodies. 

That’s when I knew I had to do something. 

I banded together with other girls and young people. With the support of UDAPT and the collective Eliminen los Mecheros, Enciendan la Vida [Remove the Flares, Ignite Life], we sued the Ecuadorian state to get rid of gas flares and protect our rights. And we won: the court ordered the state to put out those giant flames. 

We were girls, not experts. But we had the strongest thing: the truth. The court agreed with us, but its ruling did not bring justice.

To this day, the flares continue to burn.

***

Defending nature as young women has its consequences. When we try to give the world a true picture of the pollution and assault on human rights and nature, the first thing we get is criticism. Many do not want the truth to come to light. And it is worse when those of us speaking out are still legally children.

Defending nature as young women has its consequences. When we try to give the world a true picture of the pollution and assault on human rights and nature, the first thing we get is criticism. Many do not want the truth to come to light. And it is worse when those of us speaking out are still legally children.

They are always telling us that we are being manipulated by adults or that we are throwing a tantrum.

Several times police and military personnel — following government orders — have blocked roads to keep us from reaching meetings with authorities.

In February 2024, my family and I were victims of an attack. They tossed an explosive device into the entrance to my house. It had a piece of paper with a phrase on it, but the fire burned it up. They wanted to silence me.
Despite the insults, roadblocks and violence, we remain strong, courageous and determined to protect our rights and those of nature. 

Because if we do not, who will?

***

Being at the most important climate summit, the COP30 in Belém, Brazil, says to the world that there can be no talk of climate action while the Amazon continues to burn. This is the first COP in the Amazon, and that has to mean something. 

I did not come to Belém to ask for favours. I came to demand that the Ecuadorian state comply with the court ruling. I also came to remind all states to respect human rights and that caring for the environment is not an expense — it is the best social and cultural investment a government can make. 

Allowing pollution and rights violations is not a show of political strength; it’s a show of indifference.

By allowing climate inaction and pollution, world leaders — including the Ecuadorian authorities — are destroying the lives of humans and of thousands of species of plants and animals. 

The mestizo and Indigenous girls and young women of the Amazon are not usually heard in the media, but we have a voice, and our fire burns brighter than that of any oil well. 

We call ourselves Warriors for the Amazon.

We call ourselves Warriors for the Amazon.

If we can get everyone to understand the importance of climate justice, we can restore the Amazon. We can reforest its lands, restore its natural areas, let animals return to their habitat, and ensure that rivers run clean once again.

No one can silence us or force us to keep our mouth shut in the face of injustice. Courage is a skill we build through our actions. Defending our rights is a shield of strength that we are creating. Each and every person can create their own.

We all have that power.

The post OpEd: From an oil well to COP30 appeared first on Amnesty International.