A generational and gendered political rift in South Korea.
Plus landmark climate lawsuits.
Your Monday, Wednesday, and Friday briefing on global affairs, human rights, environment, social innovation, business, culture, and design—offering fresh insights through the lenses of sustainable development, women-centered perspectives, and emerging global trends. The aim? To keep you informed, curious, and always ready with a compelling conversation starter at the dinner table.
In today’s letter: malnutrition among women and children in Gaza, a win for Indigenous communities in Colombia, shrinking clownfish, PepsiCo has overhauled its sustainability targets, COP30 as an ice-cream flavour, a social enterprise in the Philippines reimagining agriculture, the women of Saudi Arabia’s first contemporary art fair, and much more.
On Friday evening, I helped host a gathering with Chicago Fair Trade to mark the 10-year anniversary of The True Cost, the documentary that first brought the darker realities of fast fashion into the public eye. A decade on, the film remains starkly relevant. Directed by Andrew Morgan, the film shifts between global garment hubs (Bangladesh, India, Cambodia, and China) and the consumer capitals they serve, exposing how environmental degradation, unsafe working conditions, and exploitative labor practices underpin the fashion industry’s low prices. The documentary links these realities to the relentless machinery of global capitalism, while contrasting them with fair trade initiatives and voices pushing for sustainable reform.
The film’s scope is sweeping, ranging from interviews with factory workers and farmers to environmentalists, economists, and fashion executives, as it uncovers the human and ecological costs behind our wardrobes. Since the documentary's release, we have seen the rise of ultra-fast fashion giants like Shein and Temu, making the film’s critique even more urgent today.
You can stream the documentary for free on Tubi.
Following the screening, I gave a short talk reflecting on the progress made in the twelve years since the Rana Plaza collapse in 2013, a tragedy that claimed the lives of 1,134 garment workers and catalyzed a global reckoning on factory safety.
In its wake, the Bangladesh Accord was established—a legally binding agreement between global brands, trade unions, and NGOs designed to ensure safe working conditions in Bangladesh’s garment industry. It introduced independent building inspections, mandatory repairs, worker health and safety training, and robust complaint mechanisms. Remarkably effective, the Accord became a model for reform.
In 2021, this effort expanded into the International Accord, which now governs not just building and fire safety, but also general health and safety, and applies to multiple sourcing countries. Currently, there are active country programs in Bangladesh and Pakistan, both of which aim to harmonize safety standards across the global garment supply chain. Over 200 brands have signed on, demonstrating a commitment to accountability.
Still, several major names (including Abercrombie, Free People, Target, The North Face, and Urban Outfitters) have yet to do so, while others have avoided joining country-specific programs despite sourcing from those regions. Their inaction places workers at continued risk, and we should all be calling on them to join the Accord without delay.
Alongside watching The True Cost and unpacking the International Accord, I recommend embracing Remake’s #NoNewClothes Challenge: a 90-day commitment to buying no new garments—whether that means abstaining entirely or choosing secondhand. The aim is to pause and reconsider our values, as well as the part we play in an industry defined by excess and exploitation.
Fashion is, at its core, a feminist issue: despite women making up 80% of the workforce, the sector remains dominated by male executives, while workers face poverty wages, unsafe conditions, and pervasive harassment. The 92 million tons of textile waste generated annually overwhelmingly end up in the Global South, where women like Ghana’s kayayei shoulder the physical toll of carrying discarded clothing.
Environmentally, the fashion industry’s dependence on fossil fuel-based synthetics, such as polyester, creates a toxic legacy of microplastics, greenhouse gases, and chemical pollution. Meanwhile, the industry exploits our insecurities to fuel endless consumption. Yet evidence shows materialism only deepens loneliness and dissatisfaction.
All things to consider when you choose where and how to spend your money.
For those interested in conscious fashion and thoughtful consumption, I host a monthly virtual gathering of the Conscious Closet Club (an initiative of Chicago Fair Trade) on the first Monday of each month. That happens to be this evening! Tonight we will be in conversation with CFT business and board member Taylor McCleneghan, owner of Mata Traders and Small Shop.
If you’d like to join the conversation, you can attend via the link here.
Doctors of the World has issued a grave report from Gaza, where rates of acute malnutrition among women and children have soared under siege. As of April 2025, one in five pregnant or breastfeeding women, and nearly one in four children seen at the group’s clinics, were suffering from or at high risk of acute malnutrition—a crisis the organisation bluntly calls “hunger used as a weapon of war.” Malnutrition levels had briefly dropped during a short-lived ceasefire earlier in the year, only to spike again following the renewal of hostilities and a tightening of the blockade. “We are not witnessing a humanitarian crisis, but a crisis of humanity and moral failure,” said Dr. Jean-François Corty, president of Doctors of the World, citing the deliberate restriction of aid as a central driver of the crisis. UN Women, meanwhile, reports more than 28,000 women and girls have been killed since the conflict began in October 2023—nearly one every hour. With aid trucks stalled at borders and Gaza’s health system collapsing, doctors are now seeing increasing numbers of underweight newborns, the result of widespread maternal malnutrition. The statistics are staggering, but the message is clear: more than two million lives are hanging in the balance, and action, not words, is long overdue.
In South Korea, a generational and gendered political rift is intensifying ahead of the June 3 presidential election. While many young women are expected to vote against the conservative ruling bloc, a rising cohort of disaffected young men is gravitating toward the right, echoing a broader trend across democracies from Germany to Canada. These men, shaped by pandemic-era setbacks and a perceived erosion of opportunity, cite conscription, job insecurity, and resentment over gender equality initiatives as drivers of their shift. Candidates like Lee Jun-seok, who has pledged to abolish the Ministry of Gender Equality, have tapped into this sentiment, finding traction among a demographic that feels increasingly left behind. As polls show young men shifting right and women leaning left, forging a political consensus may become increasingly difficult—a challenge not unique to Seoul, but emblematic of Gen Z's fractured global outlook.
In Bogotá last week, Colombia’s National Indigenous Minga (an alliance of 115 Indigenous communities) secured a sweeping set of agreements with the national government after days of dialogue, protest, and principled persistence. Among the wins: direct financing for autonomous health and education systems, land registry reforms, peacebuilding proposals, and increased budgets for land acquisition. Leaders pushed back against racist tropes circulated by right-wing media, affirming instead their essential role in Colombia’s social fabric. The National University opened its doors to the Minga, with students and professors alike calling it a living classroom.
Driven by conflict, economic instability, and shattered livelihoods, thousands of young Ethiopians are risking everything on a hazardous journey across the Red Sea in search of work in Saudi Arabia’s oil-rich economy. Yasin Omar, a farmer from eastern Ethiopia, embodies this desperate migration. After crossing borders with the help of traffickers known as dalalas, he endured brutal abuse from smugglers and militias in Somaliland and Yemen, including beatings, hunger, and threats of violence. His ordeal culminated in incarceration in Saudi Arabia, where overcrowded prisons and harsh treatment are commonplace for irregular migrants. Despite promises of opportunity and better wages, many like Yasin find themselves trapped in cycles of exploitation, detention, and deportation. Last year, Saudi authorities arrested nearly a million irregular migrants, with many Ethiopians among them, drawing sharp condemnation from international human rights organisations. Yet amid ongoing conflict at home (including deadly clashes in Ethiopia’s Amhara region), the perilous journey remains for many the only route to survival and hope.
During an extreme ocean heatwave off Papua New Guinea, clownfish pulled a curious trick: they shrank. Scientists tracking 134 fish over five months found that most of them became noticeably shorter, by just a few millimeters, but enough to raise eyebrows. The reason? Likely survival. In hotter waters, being smaller helps cold-blooded creatures manage energy demands and stress. Researchers still aren’t sure how the fish managed the feat (self-editing skeletons, perhaps?), but the result is clear: the tiniest fish fared best.
A German court has dismissed a landmark climate lawsuit brought by Peruvian farmer Saúl Luciano Lliuya against energy giant RWE. Yet, legal and scientific experts say the ruling may mark a turning point in climate litigation. Although the judge ruled that the estimated 1% flood risk posed to Lliuya’s Andean home was too minor to warrant damages, the court affirmed that climate science can establish legal liability for emissions—a significant precedent. Citing this, advocates believe the case, despite its outcome, opens the door for impacted communities worldwide to challenge major emitters. Lliuya, whose claim linked RWE to glacier melt and rising flood threats, had sought a proportional contribution (about $17,500) from the utility to fund local flood defenses. While RWE, responsible for nearly 0.5% of global emissions since the industrial era, stated that they “regard it as an entirely misplaced approach to turn courtrooms into a forum for NGOs’ demands,” observers from the London School of Economics and ClientEarth suggested otherwise. “Legal consequences are snapping at their heels,” warned ClientEarth’s Adam Weiss.
Across the ocean, in a landmark case filed in Washington state, Misti Leon is suing seven major oil and gas companies (including Shell, Chevron, and BP) over the death of her 65-year-old mother, Juliana, who died from heat exposure during the unprecedented Pacific Northwest heat dome in 2021. The suit alleges that the companies knowingly contributed to climate change, suppressed scientific evidence, and failed to warn the public about the risks associated with extreme heat driven by their emissions. Though states and cities have brought similar climate lawsuits, this is the first to tie a single fatality directly to man-made global warming. Legal experts suggest that it could set a new precedent in holding fossil fuel firms accountable, as the human toll of climate change becomes increasingly difficult to ignore.
PepsiCo has overhauled its sustainability targets, notably dropping its ambitious goal for reusable packaging and adjusting timelines across the board. The company now aims for 97% of its packaging to be reusable, recyclable, or compostable by 2030, down from its earlier target of 100% by 2025, while lowering its recycled plastic content goal to 40% by 2035. Meanwhile, its target for reducing virgin plastic has shifted to a pathetic 2% annual decrease through 2030. Regarding emissions, the firm extended its net-zero deadline from 2040 to 2050 and softened its near-term reduction ambitions, reducing scope 1 and 2 targets from 75% to 50% by 2030. PepsiCo attributes these recalibrations to external market realities and regulatory hurdles (such as inconsistent recycled material standards across key markets) and insists the updated goals remain ambitious, calling for collaboration and innovation to advance sustainability within a complex global landscape. UGH.
In Belém, the host city of this year’s UN climate summit, one local ice cream shop is serving up a sweet take on global diplomacy. Its newest flavour, COP30, blends Amazonian cupuaçu, Brazil nuts, and pistachios into a scoopable tribute to the rainforest—and perhaps a subtle reminder that climate action, like dessert, is best enjoyed with urgency.
On the lush farmlands of the Philippines, Agrea is reimagining agriculture from the ground up. Founded by Cherrie Atilano, the social enterprise addresses one of the country’s deepest contradictions: farmers who feed a nation but can’t feed themselves. Inspired by childhood observations of rural hardship, Atilano turned down a Fulbright to stay close to the soil, launching Agrea in 2014 with a mission to end farming poverty through sustainable systems, not charity. Its flagship One-Island Economy model fuses local farming, environmental stewardship, and direct-to-market supply chains into a blueprint for rural prosperity. Farmers have boosted yields, reduced input costs, and diversified into high-value crops, while Agrea’s digital tools and policy advocacy are modernising the sector from within. With programmes that empower women, inspire youth, and partner with government, Agrea is cultivating not just crops but systemic change. “When farmers thrive, the economy grows,” Atilano says. It’s a necessary development in a country that imports rice yet brims with agricultural potential.
After more than a century abroad, the skulls of 19 Black patients—once dissected and exported from a New Orleans hospital to Germany for use in phrenological research—were returned home in a solemn, jazz-laced ceremony that blended remembrance with reckoning. Among them were Marie Louise, a lifelong New Orleanian who died of malnutrition; Hiram Malone, a young man felled by pneumonia; and Samuel Prince, a 40-year-old cook lost to tuberculosis. These individuals, presumed to have been formerly enslaved or institutionalized in the postbellum South, had their remains stripped of dignity in the name of pseudoscience and racial hierarchy. Acquired unethically in the 1870s, their crania were stored at the University of Leipzig, which in 2023 acknowledged the colonial context of their collection and initiated their return. Now repatriated to Louisiana, the remains were laid to rest following a multi-faith memorial that spanned continents, generations, and historical wounds.
The Turner Contemporary in Margate, England, has unveiled a new commission by artist Cassi Namoda, whose site-specific installation, What are you doing by my sea?, transforms the gallery’s floor-to-ceiling windows into a luminous meditation on memory, myth, and coastal belonging. Framing views of the North Sea through colour-saturated panels, Namoda—born in Maputo, raised across continents, and now based in Italy—draws from Mozambican folklore, Luso-African histories, and the poetic drama of cinema. The title references Hyenas (1992), a cult film by Senegalese director Djibril Diop Mambéty, reimagined here as a contemplative sunset encounter on a beach. The work, which nods to the stained glass of Matisse and the maritime light of Turner, marks Namoda’s first public, site-specific piece and inaugurates the gallery’s annual Sunley Gallery Commission. Designed to be viewed both from within and after hours from outside (lit until 11 pm), it offers a moment of stillness for summer visitors and a striking new cultural landmark on Margate’s shoreline.
Maria Grazia Chiuri’s departure marks the end of a significant era at Dior, where, over nine years as creative director, she reshaped the house with a bold feminist vision and a deep dialogue with its heritage. Since joining in 2016 as Dior’s first female lead, Chiuri’s work (highlighted by her debut “We should all be feminists” collection) consistently fused empowerment with artistry, collaborating with prominent women creators and reinterpreting iconic designs like the Saddle Bag. Her leadership saw Dior’s couture sales soar, even amid a shifting luxury landscape, culminating in a poetic, all-white celebration of Rome at her final Resort 2026 show. With no successor yet announced, the house faces a new chapter after one of its most culturally resonant creative tenures.
At the end of May, Saudi Arabia unveiled its first fair dedicated to contemporary and high-end design, marking a milestone in the Kingdom’s cultural evolution. Held in the capital, Downtown Design Riyadh gathered limited-edition works from international galleries and regional collectives, but it was the new wave of Saudi women designers who stole the show. From sculptural seating echoing Najdi motifs to modular forms inspired by desert landscapes, each designer brought a compelling blend of heritage and modernity. Noura Suleiman of NWII.III Interiors launched Mezlaj, a line of furniture that pays homage to traditional Saudi aesthetics through vibrant colours and intricate forms, while Amani Al Ibrahim collaborated with BMW to design a VIP lounge inspired by the Kingdom’s natural terrain. As Vogue Arabia noted, these creatives are not simply participating in Saudi Arabia’s design emergence; they are defining it, one considered curve and crafted detail at a time.
On a quiet stretch of Brewer Street in Soho, London, Swedish slow fashion label Asket has unveiled its first flagship store outside Stockholm—a thoughtfully spare, 137-square-metre space that feels more archive than shopfront. Here, there are no flashing sale signs or bursting rails—just a wooden frame of single garments, artfully displayed like exhibits, and a central “Archive” honouring ten years of design. Each piece includes detailed provenance, from fibre to finish, reinforcing Asket’s ethos of radical transparency and permanence. The brand’s refined sizing system offers 18 options per garment, and staff are on hand to ensure a perfect fit. There’s no till, just a discreet oak credenza where purchases are made via tablet. The store also offers complimentary repairs and garment take-back through its Revival Project, part of a wider commitment to longevity and circularity. “The space is designed to slow people down,” says store manager Jack Gullachsen, “to engage, not to fill baskets.”
Lina Bo Bardi’s architectural legacy is modest in scale but monumental in impact. Best known for São Paulo’s MASP—a glass box suspended mid-air by bold crimson beams—her work marries radical modernism with a profound social conscience. Born in Rome in 1914 and arriving in Brazil in 1946, she immersed herself in the culture of her new home, drawing inspiration from the vernacular traditions of Bahia and the everyday lives of Brazilians. Long overlooked, often dismissed through the lens of gender or a sparse portfolio, Bo Bardi is now celebrated for a vision that placed people at the centre of design. Projects such as Casa de Vidro and SESC Pompéia remain compelling not just for their form, but also for their function, as generous and human spaces. Her architecture was never about spectacle; it was about service, clarity, and care. (There is a documentary about her streaming on Kanopy!)
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