How do you teach human rights in a country where the Taliban has systematically erased fundamental freedoms? On October 5th, Afghan women’s rights activist Husna Jalal addressed UN Watch’s official side event at the 63rd session of the UN Human Rights Council, “Empowering Future Leaders through Human Rights Education,” explaining why education must extend beyond physical classrooms to safely prepare young people to document violations. She calls on the international community to fund scholarships, build secure digital pathways, and create a global network to support young Afghan defenders denied academic freedom.
Prepared Remarks:
Excellencies, distinguished colleagues, ladies and gentlemen.
Human rights education is often described as teaching people about their rights. I would like to suggest that its real purpose is larger: to prepare people to live, defend and sustain those rights, and above all to do so when it is hardest.
The case of Afghanistan also raises a more difficult question: what does human rights education mean in a country where human rights themselves are being systematically restricted?
It is relatively easy to speak about human rights education where institutions are functioning, universities are open to everyone, and students and teachers are able to express themselves freely. The real test comes when those conditions do not exist.
In such environments, knowing your rights is not enough. A young person may understand perfectly well that women and men are entitled to equality, that education is a human right, or that people should be able to participate in the life of their society. But what happens when speaking about those
principles carries personal risk? What happens when the institutions that should provide education are themselves places of exclusion? And what happens when young people have knowledge and motivation, but no safe space in which to use them?
This is where I believe our approach to human rights education has to go further.
We need to prepare young people not only for environments in which human rights are respected, but also for environments in which those rights are contested, restricted or violated. That requires practical preparation: how to act responsibly and safely; how to preserve evidence and knowledge; how to build networks of solidarity; how to communicate across communities; how to continue learning when formal institutions become inaccessible; and how to remain connected to civil society even when civic space is shrinking.
Afghanistan has taught us another important lesson: when physical educational spaces disappear, we must find ways to ensure that the intellectual and civic space does not disappear with them.
For Afghan women and girls in particular, this means creating alternative pathways to education, mentorship and professional development, and connecting them with universities, educators, civil society organizations and peers beyond Afghanistan. It also means ensuring that qualifications, skillsand experience gained through alternative forms of learning can eventually lead to meaningful academic and professional opportunities.
We should also think differently about who we consider a future human rights leader. Leadership does not begin when someone receives a formal title or joins an established organization. It can begin with a student who questions discrimination, a teacher who protects the dignity of her students, a young journalist who insists on documenting what is happening, or a young person who creates a small space where others can continue to learn.
In countries experiencing serious human rights restrictions, these individuals may never have access to conventional leadership programmes. If we wait for them to reach established institutions before we support them, we may never reach the people who need that support most.
That is why human rights education must be resilient enough to continue beyond the classroom and, when necessary, beyond national borders. It should create relationships and communities that can survive even when institutions come under pressure.
For me, this is one of the most important lessons from Afghanistan: we should not only educate young people about human rights when conditions are favorable. We need to equip and accompany them precisely when defending those rights becomes difficult.
From this, I draw three lessons, and for each I want to suggest something practical. First, human rights education cannot be separated from the environment in which it takes place.
Students learn human rights not only from textbooks but from experience: when they can speak freely, when women participate equally, when minorities are respected, when disagreement is possible without fear. When discrimination and censorship become part of educational life, young people learn a very different lesson about whose rights matter.
Practically, every institution that teaches human rights should ask whether it practises them. Who is admitted? Who speaks? Who is protected when they dissent? Do students have a safe channel to raise complaints? Teaching the Universal Declaration is not enough if the campus contradicts it.
Second, human rights education must give young people the ability to act, not only to know. Knowing a right exists matters. Knowing how to defend it matters just as much. Young leaders need to document violations safely and responsibly, write a credible submission to a UN mechanism,advocate to decision-makers, organise a campaign, protect their digital security, and communicate across political and cultural divides.
They also need people. The greatest threat many young defenders face, especially under repression or in exile, is isolation. A single mentor who answers a message, opens a door or reviews a draft can decide whether a young person keeps going.
Practically, training should be built around real tasks, such as a mock submission to a treaty body, and every participant should leave with a named mentor and a peer network, not just a certificate.
Third, our commitment must continue when formal institutions are closed or captured. If Afghan women cannot enter universities, we cannot simply wait for the doors to reopen. We must ask how education can reach them now.
That means open learning pathways in Dari and Pashto that work on phones. It means universities agreeing to recognise what has been learned, so that interrupted education is not wasted.
It means scholarships in regional and international universities, support for Afghan educators inside and outside the country, and digital security and emergency support from the very first day, because learning in these conditions carries real risk.
Afghanistan raises an important question: what happens to the next generation of human rights leaders when the institutions that should educate, connect and support them are no longer accessible?
We cannot simply wait for conditions to improve. When classrooms and universities close, young people need alternative pathways to continue learning, remain connected and develop the skills to defend human rights safely and effectively.
So let me close with a concrete proposal. We should build an international network of universities, national human rights institutions and civil society organizations to provide sustained education, mentoring and practical leadership opportunities for young human rights defenders, especially those whose education has been restricted by repression, conflict or discrimination.
A network only matters if each of us does something specific. States can fund scholarships, recognize credible alternative and online learning, and create pathways for students and young defenders at risk.
Universities can open places and online programs, provide mentors, work with displaced and exiled academics, and protect academic freedom.
Human rights institutions and the UN system can create opportunities for young defenders to engage with human rights mechanisms safely and ensure that voices from the most restricted environments are heard.
Civil society can make training accessible in local languages, connect experienced defenders with emerging leaders, and integrate digital security and protection into their programs.
None of this requires a new treaty or institution. It requires us to connect what already exists and make it accessible to those who need it most.
Afghanistan is an urgent example, but the lesson goes beyond Afghanistan. If we want the next generation to defend universal human rights, we cannot wait until they are established leaders.
We must invest in them while they are learning, while they are finding their voices, and especially when using those voices comes at a cost.
Thank you.
