Standing for What’s Right in a World Gone Wrong

Dear friends, esteemed guests,

Buenas noches.

It is a great honor to be back in Mexico City, among all of you—to see familiar faces and new ones, and to be here in this beautiful museum, a space that holds the memory, resilience, and richness of the many cultures that have shaped this country and continue to inspire the world.

We meet at a time of profound global turbulence. Wars are intensifying, proliferating, and growing longer.

Every day, we see horrifying scenes of unconscionable human suffering—people killed as they queue for food, children dying from starvation, churches and mosques bombed, hospitals destroyed, and entire cities laid to ruin.

At the same time, our planet is being pushed past its limits. The ravages of climate change are producing droughts, famines, displacement, and conflicts.

Powerful countries are now actively rolling back their commitments, accelerating deforestation and emissions. Meanwhile, the countries least responsible for this emergency are suffering the most.

These environmental catastrophes are not isolated. They flow from a deeper crisis of inequality—within countries and between them.

The same system that allows a tiny elite to accumulate unimaginable wealth also fuels environmental destruction—including Latin America’s precious ecosystems, from the Amazon to the Mesoamerican forests—as corporations prioritize short-term profits over the long-term health of the planet.

Even in places where people’s future once felt secure, we see democracies devouring themselves. Elections have become tools for autocrats— mechanisms not to uphold freedom, but to consolidate power, seize institutions, and bend them to their will.

And the liberal international order, which was designed to hold our world together, is fracturing—risking the breakdown not only of global cooperation but the very idea of our shared humanity.

These are not separate and distinct crises. They are interlocking, systemic failures that have created a world gone wrong.

The question for us is: How do we stand for what’s right in a world gone wrong?

My own journey, as someone who has devoted her life to the fight for human rights and justice, began when I witnessed injustice everywhere around me.

I grew up in Kenya, during the rule of President Daniel arap Moi. Some of my earliest memories are of people being forcibly disappeared into the basement of Nyayo House—a notorious center of torture and detention. People vanished for weeks, months, even longer.

There were reports of people being undressed, beaten, starved, and subject to other cruel and humiliating punishments.

At the height of the Moi dictatorship, hundreds were detained and tortured. Their only “crime” was questioning a repressive regime that relied on fear, surveillance, and brute force—criminalizing dissent to maintain its grip on power.

At the same time, across Latin America, people were resisting their own dictatorships. In Argentina, tens of thousands were forcibly disappeared under military rule. In Mexico, peaceful student protests were met with brutal repression, most tragically in the 1968 student massacre.

In Chile, under Pinochet, there were notorious torture centers like Villa Grimaldi, and mass executions. In Brazil, leftists, students, intellectuals, and clergy were arbitrarily detained, tortured, disappeared, and killed. Indigenous communities had their lands stolen. Censorship and surveillance were routine.

And yet, amid the brutality, there were people who stood up—for truth, for dignity, for what was right—often at great personal risk.

In Kenya, a small group of lawyers dared to go to court to challenge detentions without trial and other abuses. They broke the silence, gave people the courage to speak out, and helped spark a movement of peaceful protests. Eventually, the government fell.

One of those lawyers was my father, Pheroze Nowrojee.

I learnt from him the importance speaking the truth, taking a stand, and affirming the courage of your convictions. 

It is in the most difficult moments that people rise up for what is right.

I think, for example, of the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo in Argentina, who gathered every week—year after year—refusing to let the memory of their children fade.

And I think, too, of the mothers in Mexico who, for decades, have searched for their disappeared children demanding truth and justice in the face of silence and impunity.

I think of the DIRECTAS YA movement in Brazil, demanding direct elections in 1983.

And of the historic “No” campaign in Chile, a coalition of opposition parties and civil rights groups, that galvanized the country and successfully defeated Pinochet in the 1988 referendum.

Today, too, there are movements we can draw inspiration from—and stand with as allies.

These are people who choose hope—not as naïve optimism, but as radical determination. They believe that change is not only possible but already underway. They are standing for what’s right in a world gone wrong; they show us the power of persistence. And persistence is something that the people of Latin America know well.

This is a region that has endured colonization and won liberation. That lived under dictatorships and overthrew them. And that today is home to some of the most vibrant, courageous social movements in the world.

Standing here, in the Museo Nacional de Antropología—surrounded by the memory and legacy of the many peoples who have resisted erasure—we are reminded that the struggle for justice is not new. It is woven into the fabric of this continent’s history.

At the heart of many of these movements are women and young people.

We have seen it with young activists in Colombia, who have been blinded by the pellets fired by an anti-riot squad, turning their pain into purpose to campaign for reforms against police brutality.

And we have seen it in the many feminist movements that have swept Latin America over the past decade, driven by a fearless resolve.

I want to pay tribute to the women who took to streets in Mexico, in Argentina, in Peru, Puerto Rico and beyond as part of the “NiUna Menos!” movement against femicides.

This powerful display of solidarity across the region told women that they were not alone. It also inspired mobilizations around the world, giving feminist campaigners strength that, collectively, they possessed a power to end impunity for violence against women.

The chant “NiUna Menos” was invoked by feminist campaigners in Italy, Spain, and Turkey. It gave them a common language to put a name to the injustices committed against them and to demand accountability.

They have played a crucial role in redefining gender violence, forcing others to finally see that it is not a private matter, or a set of isolated crimes, but a global structural and political crisis that must not go on.

This persistence also led to the The Marea Verde—the Green Wave—that showed how strategies of community organization, mass mobilization, and legal advocacy could be powerfully combined to secure wins for abortion rights.

As President Claudia Sheinbaum has said, “This is the time for women.”

Women have arrived, to invoke her words, to shape our destiny—to lead the way by standing for what’s right in a world gone wrong.

I want to congratulate you, the people of Mexico, on the election of the first woman to the highest office—the first in 200 years.

It was a day that was special for me, as well. On that same day, I became the first woman to ever lead the Open Society Foundations.

Last year, the year of unprecedented elections, has been described by some as a year when strongmen came to power, as in the United States, or continued to cling to it, as in India or Venezuela. But that’s only a partial picture. 

In southern Africa, Namibia also elected its first female president. More than that, it is the only country in the world that also has a woman as vice president and a woman as speaker of the parliament.

In Mexico, the constitutional reform commitment to “parity in everything” is one of the most ambitious gender equality efforts. And we’re seeing the results—with 13 women governors out of a total of 23 states.

This leadership matters. It is not just about diversity or representation. It is about shifting policies, delivering change.

When women are in positions of political leadership, they are more likely to pursue policies that advance sustainable development.

They are more likely to create greater inclusivity when it comes to political participation and put in place stronger protections for human rights. Research even shows that overall economic performance improves as women bring their unique experiences to policymaking.

In recent years, elected women leaders here in Latin America have shown how women’s leadership can deliver meaningful change.

At Open Society, we were proud to partner with Clara Brugada, then-mayor of Iztapalapa and now mayor of Mexico City, in creating the country’s first comprehensive care system, known as utopía projects, that promote gender equality, reduce violence against women, and strengthen social inclusion.

Now, the projects have been recognized as a national model here in Mexico, and we are supporting their expansion as part of Brugada’s broader mayoral agenda for Mexico City—prioritizing social justice and urban equity through ambitious initiatives.

These are not mere milestones. They are the result of decades of feminist organizing. They do not come through elite consensus, but through grass roots mobilizations.

Women’s leadership is driven from the ground up, from women on the frontlines of change in their communities, bringing forward new leaders—as I saw in Colombia, at the Afro Women and Power Forum in Cali, where I had the honor to meet hundreds of Afro-descendant and Indigenous feminist leaders.

At Open Society, that’s how we see change happen. It is not a gift that is bestowed from above, but the product of a persistent struggle that is waged from the ground up.

From there, it reaches the national level, and goes on to create change regionally, and ultimately globally.

Our work in Latin America, Africa, and Asia centers the communities that have long been marginalized and excluded but bear the great consequences for systemic crises. In many of these contexts, we have seen women and youth as the drivers of change.

Our work on the protection of human rights defenders focuses very specifically on the protections and resources that women and environmental defenders need to be able to continue their work, finding sanctuary in places within their own countries or regions to be able to resume their campaigns for justice.

The work we do on the safety of communities, the necessary work to ensure that people have security to be able to secure their rights, works with young people who have been targeted during protests, and marginalized communities—women, racial and ethnic minorities, and LGBTQI+ communities—that are falsely targeted during public safety campaigns run by governments.

Our work on peacebuilding and resource wealth in Africa centers women and young people—leveraging the local knowledge that they possess to make the best decisions for their communities.

And our investments in democratic practice, across Latin America, Africa, and Asia, build on the progress of movements that are rallying against poverty, inequality, austerity, corruption, police brutality, unemployment, land dispossession, and extraction as exploitation.

At a time when many fear that democracy is being rolled back, that authoritarian excesses have become routine, that institutions are being assaulted or hollowed out, we are seeing a fightback. The world has gone wrong, in many ways, but there are also people making it right.

They are bringing down the oppressive and discriminatory structures that have held them back. And they are reimagining their societies and pursuing their aspirations for a more just and equitable world.

In Kenya, young people—proudly identifying themselves as Gen-Z—have been at the heart of what began as a protest movement against unjust taxes and has become a powerful movement for economic and political justice.

I was in Senegal just last week, where a democracy is being reclaimed, after an election that was nearly stolen from them. In a country that has never had a military coup, there was a danger that democracy would be interrupted.

In Sri Lanka, probably the first movement of this kind, it was women who sparked protests against the economic crises that had been inflicted on the country, plunging it into default, by a family with a record of corruption and brutality.

Elsewhere in South Asia, a region that represents a quarter of humanity, young people also rose up in Bangladesh. The first steps were taken by students, who shattered the wall of fear that had stood in the way of them realizing their hopes for a more just and accountable order.

We’ve seen this in Latin America, too. In Chile, youth-led protests against inequality helped bring a new generation to power, including President Gabriel Boric. And in Guatemala, Indigenous leaders and young people from the Primavera movement defended democracy when it was under threat, ensuring President Arévalo could take office.

This is not to idealize the youth, as so often happens. While these movements have disrupted the status quo, the path to meaningful change remains yet to be charted.

Activism alone does not create change, and where governments are unresponsive to their needs and institutions are used as instruments of power rather than tools for justice, we see frustration, disengagement, even support for authoritarian alternatives.

But there are openings that can be widened further, the fragility strengthened, and light shined through the darkness.

The fight for democratic values and ideals, for human rights, and for justice must also be a fight for equity.

Unless people can have a share in their country’s wealth, enjoy some measure of not just political equality but also economic equality, then the door to authoritarianism will be left open.

We must fight for societies that deliver in substance: jobs, safety, health care, housing, education, and social protection.

As people defend their civil and political rights, they also need to be able to realize their economic and social rights.

To do this, we need to think beyond traditional methods. For several years, indeed decades, at Open Society we focused on building up the strength of civil society alone. We assumed that a robust civil society would be enough to push for reforms, make governments accountable, and resist authoritarianism.

Civil society remains crucial, but civil society is also under attack. Governments around the world are imposing restrictive regulations, choking off funding, and demonizing civil society leaders.

This has exposed a weakness in the fight for open society: an overreliance on this sector, and a misguided assumption that the fight for human rights and justice is somehow above politics and doesn’t need to engage with it, that faith can simply be placed in supposedly neutral institutions that will do the work of democracy for them.

We need to reach out to a wider range of allies: to work not just with civil society, but also with communities, social movements, experts, political actors—and work with like-minded governments, as we are doing in Latin America, to support important reforms.

Latin America is known for having among the highest levels of inequality anywhere. This is a legacy of the neoliberal experiment that championed deregulation, tax cuts, and the shrinking of the state to create an economic system that prioritizes profits over people.

This ideology of market fundamentalism—the belief that markets, left to their own devices, can solve all problems—has exacerbated the crises of exclusion, precarity and insecurity. And through these crises it has eroded faith in democratic governance.

The key elections of recent years, in Brazil, Chile, Colombia, and Guatemala saw far-right or authoritarian-minded leaders kept away from power. But to be able to maintain and grow coalitions we are seeing communities return to the Indigenous and Afro-descendant concept of buen vivir to address people’s demands for lives of dignity.

This effort is complemented by our work on creating new economic models through green industrial policy, to be able to break with the pernicious choice that forces countries to decide whether to pursue climate action or development. Through these efforts—bringing together governments, experts, activists, and communities—we want countries to be able to do both: protect the planet and create jobs.

There was a time, back in the 1970s, when neoliberalism reinforced authoritarianism in Chile during the Pinochet dictatorship, unleashing shock therapy that caused unemployment to soar, inequality to widen, and poverty to increase.

We are doing the opposite. Open Society is investing in fairer societies to build open and democratic societies.

The changes at the national level can also influence changes at the regional level. I’m pleased to be here during the Pan-American Congress—bringing together elected lawmakers from across the Western Hemisphere.

As our world passes through these uncertain times, with divisions being created within and between continents, it is an opportunity to build bridges based on open society values of dignity, equity, and justice—and to build solidarity on issues of human rights, migration, and democracy.

And it’s an opportunity to craft a new vision for the hemisphere: a new social contract for the 21st century. We are moving toward a world of rivalry, of transactional relationships, but there are also possibilities to choose cooperation over competition—to work together on shared concerns and not to cede ground to divisiveness.

At Open Society, we also support countries and regions working together across continents to find solutions for humanity’s common challenges:

• debt,
• climate crisis,
• international justice,
• trade reform, and
• negotiation

Eighty years ago, at the end of the Second World War, we saw the construction of an impressive and important network of norms, rules, and institutions—with the promise to promote peace, security, development, and human rights.

Yet, the liberal international order wasn’t a guarantee of open society values. It formalized the privilege of the most powerful states, and, in doing so, excluded the voices of the many, particularly countries emerging from colonialism. There were inequities built into it—and perpetuated by it.

But it did advance an important open society idea: that all people are equal and that their fate is humanity’s shared concern.

As this international order fractures, that idea is at risk, too.

The world we are in is changing fast. We are already in a G20 world—which includes Mexico, Brazil, and Argentina—and no longer in a G7 world.

The BRICS have half the world’s GDP and half the world’s population.

This will be a world where standing for what’s right—for open society values—becomes harder, but even more necessary.

We may see the emergence of a multipolar world, where different powers stake their claims, or a world carved up into “spheres of influence,” where powerful states dominated their regions and smaller, weaker countries are abandoned to their fate.

One of the reasons why the liberal international order is coming apart is because the same powerful states that presided over its creation are now dismantling it—threatening to annex entire countries, waging wars of trade and bombs, and allowing the most serious crimes to be committed with impunity.

The fight for open society values today does not lie in recovering the old world. Or nostalgically rebuilding that which is broken. That world has passed.

We live in a world that has gone wrong, but it is not an unchangeable one. The task before is to discover a new moral imagination—one that can shape and build the new world that is emerging.

In this moment of uncertainty, Latin America—drawing on its history of bold, transformative ideas—can once again offer the creativity and imagination needed to help shape a new order grounded in open society values.

We see signs of it already, in the movements I’ve mentioned, the people on the frontlines defying repression, challenging injustice, fighting for a more just and equitable world.

At Open Society, we are committed to new ways of thinking and new ways of acting. This moment calls for intentionality in everything we do. Questioning our assumptions and discovering new ideas.

Understanding how power is exercised, engaged, rebalanced, and confronted. This is central to our mission. We seek to move power. To stand with communities as allies, not as saviors.

There is no finishing line to this work. We will not reach a point where we can close our doors and just go home. The work of defending open society values and human rights will never be done.

In this moment, when things look so difficult in so many places, our job is to keep our eyes on the goal, to stay calm, to stay focused, to be brave—and to remember what we have to do.

I want to close with the words of someone who may be familiar to friends in this hall.

María Herrera Magdaleno is a Mexican human rights activist and a mother who has been searching for answers when it comes to the disappearance of her sons.

"We do not seek revenge,” she said, as a leader in the movement of families of the disappeared, “we seek justice. And as long as we are alive, we will not stop fighting.”

Thank you.