• Legal scholar, feminist thinker, and author, Professor Vasuki Nesiah on feminism being used to justify military intervention

From war zones to world courts, feminism has reshaped global policy. But, has global policy reshaped feminism in return? An Institute for Youth in Policy (YIP) Fellow and recipient of the Dr. Martin Luther King Junior Faculty Award at the New York University (NYU), legal scholar, feminist thinker, and one of the sharpest critics of how gender, power, and conflict intersect in global governance, Professor Vasuki Nesiah — joined Kaleidoscope to discuss her book ‘International Conflict Feminism’, which asks an uncomfortable question: what happens when feminism gains a seat at the table of war, law, and international power? This conversation explores that tension and what it means for feminism today.

 Following are excerpts of the interview: 

You describe international conflict feminism as a project within global power rather than a movement. When did feminism gain influence and what did it risk losing, in that process?

In many ways, this book looks at a moment when feminism gained influence after the end of the Cold War. In 1989, when the Berlin Wall fell, the world entered what many described as a unipolar movement in the 1990s, where the US and its political agendas dominated global politics. 

One of the consequences of that moment was the emergence of what you might call imperialism with a liberal face. A particular form of liberalism became intertwined with imperial power. That combination created the conditions for a new form of feminism to emerge on the global stage. Of course, it had earlier roots and has continued to evolve since, but, that post-Cold War moment is really where this particular intertwining of imperial politics and the global feminist discourse became most visible.

Why did conflict zones become the primary stage for feminist intervention rather than sites of peace, economy, or structural justice?

This is partly connected to the Cold War story as well. During the Cold War, the UN Security Council (SC) was often paralysed because of the veto powers held by the US and the Soviet Union. Decisions were frequently blocked. After the Cold War ended, the UN SC became far more active, and, in many ways, aligned with American geopolitical influence. 

Under Chapter VII of the UN Charter, the SC is empowered to act when international peace and security are threatened. So, conflict zones became the spaces where international intervention could legitimately take place. Because of that, conflict became the entry point for many international actors, including liberal interventionists and feminist advocacy networks. The SC began passing far more resolutions and undertaking far more interventions after the Cold War than it had previously. That institutional shift made conflict zones the central stage for many global feminist initiatives.

Between Mexico in 1975 and Beijing in 1995, the feminist language changed drastically. What was left behind, and what was gained?

The 1975 Conference in Mexico was the first UN World Conference on Women, and the Beijing Conference in 1995 was the fourth. If you compare the language used at those two meetings, the shift is quite striking. 

In Mexico, the discussions were deeply tied to structural issues. There was strong language about colonialism, neo-colonialism, racial discrimination and the demand for a new international economic order. Feminism was being articulated alongside broader struggles for economic justice and anti-colonial politics. 

At the Beijing Conference in 1995, many of those structural dimensions had faded from the conversation. Instead, the language shifted toward empowerment and individual rights. US politician Hillary Clinton’s declaration that “women’s rights are human rights (HR)” captured that shift very clearly. What emerged was a more individualised vision of feminism, where the focus moved away from structural causes of inequality toward individual experiences — particularly experiences within conflict.

Sexual violence has become the dominant way that women in conflict are seen. When does visibility turn into a limitation?

For much of history, sexual violence was ignored or silenced because of stigma and shame, so, bringing visibility to it was extremely important. It remains a major issue in both peace and conflict contexts. However, when sexual violence becomes the sole focus of feminist engagement with conflict, there are costs. 

I would point to three in particular. First, women experience conflict in many different ways. Sexual violence is only one dimension. Issues like land rights, displacement, and economic survival often receive far less attention, even though women make up some of the largest displaced populations in conflict situations. Second, this framing often reinforces a particular moral narrative in which men are seen only as perpetrators and women only as victims. That removes women’s agency, which is itself problematic from a feminist perspective. Third, men are also victims of conflict, including victims of sexual violence. In fact, some of the earliest cases before international tribunals included sexual violence against men. Yet, these experiences remain heavily stigmatised and underreported. 

So, while visibility was necessary, reducing conflict to a single narrative of sexual violence can also narrow our understanding of what people actually experience.

You say that violence became its own context. What political questions disappear when violence is detached from history and power?

When violence is treated in isolation, we lose sight of the conditions that make it possible in the first place. We stop asking questions about the structural injustices or historical factors that enable violence to occur. We also fail to examine the long-term consequences of violence. 

Take the example of the genocide in Rwanda. One of the most widely cited legal cases focused on sexual violence as a crime during the genocide. While that recognition was important, the genocide itself cannot be understood without examining the colonial history that shaped the categories of Hutu and Tutsi. Those identities were formalised and hardened under Belgian colonial rule. Without looking at that historical context, we end up with an incomplete understanding of the violence itself.

UN SC Resolution 1325 is often celebrated as a feminist milestone. In hindsight, was it liberation or institutional absorption?

It is a complicated question. On the one hand, many feminists fought very hard for the recognition of gender issues within the SC. Having women’s participation and gender concerns formally acknowledged in discussions of peace and security was a significant achievement. At the same time, once those ideas entered the institutional framework of the SC, they could also be used for very different purposes. 

For example, military interventions — such as the war in Afghanistan — were sometimes justified in the language of protecting women’s rights. So, the question becomes whether feminism gained influence over the institution, or whether the institution absorbed and repurposed feminist language for its own strategic goals.

Your book shows feminism being used to justify military intervention. How should feminists respond when war is framed as emancipation?

The first step is to listen to feminists who are actually living in those contexts. Take Afghanistan. The Revolutionary Association of the Women of Afghanistan (RAWA) has long opposed both the Taliban and foreign military intervention. They have been very clear that while they strongly oppose the Taliban’s oppression, they do not see foreign bombing as the path to their liberation. So, if feminists within Afghanistan are saying, “Do not bomb us in the name of saving us”, that perspective needs to be taken seriously. 

More broadly, feminist movements have historically been critical of war. Organisations such as the Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom, formed during the First World War, challenged militarism long before contemporary debates about intervention. That tradition continues today in many parts of the world.

From a Third World approach to international law, feminist perspectives often argue that international law is biased toward colonialism, capitalism, and patriarchy. How does the Global South challenge the moral authority of international law?

In recent years, we have seen examples of this challenge quite clearly. The war in Gaza, for instance, generated widespread responses across the Global South. I think of the Global South not simply as a geographic category but as a political one. It includes movements and solidarities that question forms of neo-colonial power. 

We saw student groups, labour unions and social movements — both in the Global South and the Global North — organising protests, strikes, and campaigns. Dock workers in Italy, for example, refused to load weapons onto ships because they opposed their use in Gaza. These forms of mobilisation show that engagement with international justice doesn’t happen only through institutions like the SC. It also happens through grassroots activism, labour movements and civil society networks.

There are dissident feminisms — anti-war, anti-colonial, grassroots. What would it take for these voices to shape global agendas again?

It is always a struggle to influence global agendas, but, these voices can certainly reshape the conversation. Concepts like solidarity become crucial here. For example, many feminist groups responding to the situation in Gaza highlighted not only sexual violence but also issues like the bombing of hospitals, the conditions under which women were giving birth, and the loss of land and homes. These are also feminist issues. 

The task is to broaden the agenda — to recognise that feminism includes struggles around land, displacement, healthcare and political sovereignty. And that agenda must be shaped in dialogue with local movements rather than imposed from outside.

What does feminist resistance look like when access to power is no longer the central issue? 

Sometimes, resistance emerges when access to power is disrupted. A recent example is the Thomas E. Dobbs, State Health Officer of the Mississippi Department of Health, et al. vs. Jackson Women's Health Organisation, et al. decision by the US Supreme Court, which removed federal protection for abortion rights. It was a major setback for the women’s movement in the US. But, it also prompted new forms of solidarity. 

Feminist organisations in the US began reaching out to movements in Latin America, where activists in countries like Argentina and Mexico had developed successful campaigns for reproductive rights. In that sense, the usual direction of influence — where ideas flow from the North to the South — was reversed. Activists in the US began learning from movements in the Global South about how to organise, how to mobilise legally and politically and how to support women living in states where reproductive rights had been restricted.  

So, feminist resistance today often takes the form of new alliances, new solidarities, and sometimes the rediscovery of older traditions of cooperation across borders.

The writer is the host, director, and co-producer of the weekly digital programme ‘Kaleidoscope with Savithri Rodrigo’ which can be viewed on YouTube, Facebook, Instagram and LinkedIn. She has over three decades of experience in print, electronic, and social media 

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The views and opinions expressed in this column are those of the author, and do not necessarily reflect those of this publication