Key points
- Historical Western bias shapes Nobel selection
- Structural barriers limit Global South nominees
- Few Southern peacebuilders gain global recognition
ISLAMABAD: In the century-plus history of the Nobel Peace Prize, a striking pattern has emerged: most winners hail from Europe or North America. The Global South — home to the lion’s share of conflict zones, human rights struggles, and peacebuilders — has often been sidelined. Why does this imbalance persist? And what does it say about how we reward peace?
Since its founding in 1901, the Peace Prize has been awarded over 100 times (to individuals and organizations). Yet the early decades saw it almost exclusively go to white, Western men. Only in 1936 did a laureate from outside Europe/USA (Argentina’s Carlos Saavedra Lamas) win it. It was only after 1960 that a laureate from Africa, Albert John Luthuli of South Africa, broke the pattern. Over time, the selection has broadened — but the imbalance remains pronounced.
Between 1901 and 2024, there have been 111 individual laureates and 31 organizations honored. But as of the mid-2020s, only a modest number of winners represent countries in Asia, Africa, Latin America, or the Middle East. Many Global South nations have never had a laureate of their own.
Historical barriers and the Western lens
Part of the reason lies in the origins and culture of the Nobel movement. The early Nobel committees were deeply rooted in European and American intellectual, diplomatic, and moral traditions. Their criteria, networks, and worldview reflected those contexts. Peace activism happening in distant or less visible settings did not always conform to those norms.
Moreover, communication and media exposure were historically skewed in favour of the West. A peace activist in Europe or the US would be more visible to the committees, international press, and diplomatic circles. In contrast, many powerful peace efforts in the Global South remained local, fragmented, or underreported.
Language, too, played a role. Works or speeches in non-Western languages often lacked translation or international reach, limiting the ability of the Nobel committee to fully assess them. Thus, many deserving figures never even gained sufficient global profile to be nominated.
Institutional biases and the power of networks
Beyond history and visibility, structural factors still work against Global South candidates.
First, nomination networks matter a lot. Nobel Peace Prize nominations must come from certain categories — former laureates, university professors, political leaders, etc. Those in Western institutions or international bodies often have stronger access to those networks. Peacebuilders in remote or marginalized regions may not have the institutional backing needed to be nominated.
Second, the resources for advocacy and visibility matter. In many developing countries, civil society organizations operate with limited budgets, scarce media leverage, or even under state repression. In contrast, organizations in the US or Europe may have better funding, be more media savvy, and have more reach to push their cause internationally.
Third, geopolitical risk aversion can influence committee thinking. Some nominees may be deemed “too controversial” if they challenge powerful states or regimes. Peace efforts that run counter to established power structures might be seen as risky by the committee, especially when they involve conflict zones or oppressive governments.
Voices from the South
Even with those challenges, several laureates from the Global South have broken through — and their stories underscore both possibility and resistance.
Take Wangari Maathai of Kenya (2004), who fought for environmental justice, democracy, and women’s rights. Her work was grassroots, controversial, and deeply rooted in her country. Malala Yousafzai (2014), from Pakistan, became one of the youngest laureates by championing girls’ education under Taliban threat. Tawakkol Karman from Yemen, Leymah Gbowee from Liberia, Abiy Ahmed from Ethiopia — each represents contexts where peace is fraught, yet change makers emerged.
Still, these successes are few compared with the many who did not get that level of recognition. And sometimes the post-award journeys are messy — laureates must operate in volatile political realities, where symbolic honor does not always translate to safety, resources, or systemic impact.
Why this divide matters
The Nobel Peace Prize is more than a medal — it is a global symbol of moral legitimacy, a boost in funding and visibility, a credential that opens doors. When the Global South remains underrepresented, it reinforces a narrative: peace leadership is Western, global morality is Western, and voices from the periphery are peripheral.
For readers across Asia, Africa, Latin America, and beyond, this matters deeply. When local peacebuilders are consistently ignored, it can discourage activism, dampen morale, or cement the idea that only Western voices count in the global conversation.
The Nobel should not be a trophy reserved for the already powerful. If it truly aspires to uplift global peace, it must more fairly reflect where peace is most fragile, most contested, and often most necessary. The divide is not just about awards — it is about whose stories we listen to, whose struggles we name, and whose voices we empower.
Only when the Nobel Prize tilts more equitably will it begin to mirror the plurality of peace itself.
