LocationsThe crises that didn't happen: Prevention in action across Asia-Pacific
September 20, 2026
Prevention is hard to picture. It leaves nothing behind to show for a crisis that never happened. When it works, nothing happens. No headlines, no emergency appeal. Just a land dispute settled before it turned violent, a rumour addressed before it ignited a riot.
Across Asia and the Pacific, open warfare remains comparatively rare, but the pressures that[RR2] [BK3] can precede it are widespread: economic shocks, climate stress, communal tensions, online harms and the exclusion of women and young people from decisions that affect their safety.
Looking back to my time as a civil society activist during Nepal's transition out of a decade of conflict in 2006, what stays with me is not the negotiations. It is how much had already been lost before anyone sat down to talk. Trust had been drained away, young people were committed to opposing sides and institutions were too weak to hold the peace. Twenty years on, that is still the conviction I work with: the cheapest and kindest moment to act is always much earlier than we think.
The international framework has caught up with the argument. The Secretary-General's New Agenda for Peace calls for prevention to become a universal, nationally owned priority, and the Pact for the Future, adopted in September 2024, commits Member States to act on it. The harder question is what that looks like on the ground, and what it costs.
Over the past year, UNDP tried to answer that question through Anticipation and Action for the New Agenda for Peace, supported by UNDP's Funding Windows. The initiative worked across Pakistan, Sri Lanka, Papua New Guinea, Solomon Islands and Timor-Leste, using a small, flexible investment to help national and local partners act before tensions escalated. The full results of this initiative are set out here.
In Pakistan's Punjab, when religious minority communities faced faith-based mob violence, amplified by online hate speech, establishing trusted local networks played a significant role. By linking communities, mediators, police and district authorities, these networks detected and defused tension before violence could take hold.
In Sri Lanka, where the aftershocks of the 2022 crisis, rising online harm, and the underrepresentation of women have heightened the risks of communal, resource, and gender-based violence, local action has proved critical. Citizen-led early-warning groups helped communities identify and address local disputes over land, resources and ethnicity while resolution remained possible. Women leaders also re-entered local spaces for dialogue and reconciliation, showing that prevention is stronger when those most affected have real influence.
In Papua New Guinea's Highlands, climate-related disasters often deepen tensions around land, water and livelihoods, increasing the risk of local conflict. The initiative supported communities to analyse these risks and integrate climate adaptation with peacebuilding efforts. By addressing potential sources of tension before they escalated, communities strengthened their ability to manage disputes peacefully, with women and young people helping lead local action.
In Timor-Leste, the response to ethnic tensions included rehabilitating a community futsal court in Villa Verde, along with dialogue between police and young people and training on rights-based policing. A community sports space may sound simple, but it gives young people a safe place to gather, build trust and take part in community life — instead of being drawn into violence.
In Solomon Islands, a combination of unemployment, exclusion, and group-based mobilization has contributed to past unrest. To break this cycle, the initiative helped national actors advance long-stalled reforms on peacebuilding, traditional governance and victims' rights. The point was not only to draft policies, but to strengthen the institutions that can manage grievances peacefully before they become flashpoints.
Across these countries, prevention worked because it was rooted in mechanisms that could outlast individual activities: trusted local networks, early-warning systems, mediation platforms, dialogue spaces and institutions that respond more effectively to local grievances. These mechanisms helped communities and authorities identify risks early, address grievances, and respond before tensions escalated.
While the contexts differed, the underlying logic was the same: investing in local capacities, relationships and institutions that could prevent tensions from turning into violence.
Two lessons stand out.
First, prevention is most effective when systems are already in place before a crisis emerges.
Second, its gains are more likely to endure when efforts are locally led.
Twenty years after Nepal’s conflict, I know prevention cannot remove every risk of violence. But it can help communities prepare earlier, respond better and keep more space open for dialogue. That is why prevention matters, even when its success is quiet and difficult to see.
The challenge now is not proving that prevention works. It is about investing in it before a crisis emerges. Governments, regional organizations, development partners and international financial institutions should treat prevention infrastructure with the same seriousness as humanitarian preparedness. This means sustained investment in local mediation skills, early-warning systems, inclusive institutions, and cross-border cooperation. The costs are modest; the costs of inaction are not.
