Today marks the 25th anniversary of the passage of Resolution 1325, which launched the women, peace, and security (WPS) agenda. This resolution was groundbreaking for numerous reasons. For one, it was the first resolution to specifically address the way conflict affects women and girls. But it was also remarkable for how it came about: rather than a top-down initiative from member states, it was the product of a bottom-up campaign by women civil society leaders.

One of those leaders was Sanam Naraghi Anderlini, who played an instrumental role in drafting Resolution 1325. Since then, she founded and serves as Chief Executive Officer of the International Civil Society Action Network. In this interview with IPI Head of WPS Phoebe Donnelly, Sanam reflects back on the origins of Resolution 1325 and its trajectory in the two and a half decades since.

You were actively involved in the passing of UN Security Council Resolution 1325. Can you tell us how that campaign came about and what was key to its success?

It began in 1995 at the Beijing Platform for Action, when women from war zones created a caucus on women in armed conflict. They developed two pillars: participation and protection. Israeli, Palestinian, and Northern Irish women spoke about participation in peace processes and decision-making, while Rwandan and Bosnian women highlighted the need for protection in the context of contemporary conflict.

In 1996–1997, at International Alert in London, my colleague Ndéye Sowe—a Senegalese working in Burundi after the Rwandan genocide—helped launch one of the first programs on women and peace. She engaged political and military leaders, as well as women’s groups, journalists, and health workers across the Hutu–Tutsi divide.

She was drawing from practical experience on the ground, while other women in the organization were reflecting on the issues from their own experiences. For example, I was drawing on my experience during the Iranian Revolution. As a child, I’d seen how when men were arrested, it was women who searched for them in jails, who hid them, who fled with their children. Many of us ended up in Europe or America with our mothers, not our fathers. Seeing women carry these responsibilities made me realize their central role.

In 1998, we held the first major international conference on women and conflict in London with women from 50 war zones. That’s when we realized that women’s experiences of war and peace were absent from international discourse. We needed a campaign to elevate those experiences in global policy.

We debated where to focus and decided on the Security Council. It felt like shooting for the moon, but why not? We also targeted the OSCE and the EU, and we succeeded there too, but the Security Council was the ultimate goal. We partnered with organizations in the US—the Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom, the Women’s Refugee Commission, Amnesty International, and others, each with a different angle.

Our campaign, “Women Building Peace: From the Village Council to the Negotiating Table,” became a platform for consultation with over 100 NGOs worldwide. Women from war zones shared what they wanted to say to the Security Council. There was even a global postcard campaign. These consultations distilled core messages from the ground up. When I was lobbying diplomats, I felt I was truly speaking for women around the world—not just a few organizations, but a global movement.

You’ve described how the campaign began and evolved. How did it move from a global effort into something the Security Council actually took up?

By early 2000, we were meeting with member states and UN officials to translate our advocacy into action within the UN system. Namibia played a crucial role. They had just come out of their own peace process and had a woman foreign minister, Netumbo Nandi-Ndaitwah, who later became deputy prime minister. Namibia was also on the Security Council that year. They hosted the Windhoek conference on the issue of sexual violence by peacekeepers in May 2000 and issued the Windhoek Declaration. We worked closely with the Namibian mission in New York, as well as Canada, Bangladesh, and other supportive states.

Since peacekeeping was a key issue on the agenda of the UN Security Council, we reached out to Namibia and said, “Please broaden the focus and add women in peace processes and decision-making, as well as conflict prevention and post-conflict recovery to the bid for a resolution.” They agreed—and that meeting became pivotal. Our recommendations went directly to the Security Council, laying the groundwork for Resolution 1325.

The next step was intense lobbying. We met ambassadors one by one, explaining that this was not a “women’s issue” but a peace and security issue—that you cannot build sustainable peace while excluding half the population. I remember saying to a diplomat, “If you’re willing to talk to men with guns, why not talk to women with ideas?” That line stayed with people.

By September 2000, the council was ready. Namibia took the lead in tabling the resolution, Bangladesh co-sponsored it, and there was overwhelming support—no opposition, though some were quietly skeptical.

On October 31, 2000, the Security Council unanimously adopted Resolution 1325. For us, it was the culmination of historic but invisible work by women and years of transnational grassroots organizing, research, and coalition-building by us all, together with women from Afghanistan, Sierra Leone, Colombia, Bosnia, and so many other countries.

It was extraordinary knowing that women who had survived war and repression were seeing their voices and experiences translated into international law.

After 1325 was adopted, what was the initial response like? Was there skepticism about what it would actually achieve?

Yes, absolutely. There was both excitement and skepticism. On one hand, we had achieved something unprecedented: a Security Council resolution recognizing women’s participation and protection as integral to peace and security. On the other hand, there was this sense of “Now what?”

The NGOs and member states who had pushed for the resolution didn’t yet know what implementation would look like. The UN system didn’t know either. It was the first time civil society had ever successfully lobbied the Security Council. Normally, resolutions are written by governments, but this one came from the ground up, so there was no existing model.

Some diplomats saw it as symbolic, not operational—“nice language” for speeches on International Women’s Day. Others, particularly women peacebuilders from conflict zones, immediately began asking, “How does this translate to our everyday realities? How does this protect us when we’re being threatened or excluded?” Within the UN, some departments dismissed it as a “gender issue,” not a “peace and security issue.” It took significant effort, advocacy, and persistence—including going into the departments of political affairs and peacekeeping, even UNDP, to run workshops and change that mindset. I did that work for years with hundreds of UN personnel.

Additionally, we forget that  9/11 happened within a year of the Security Council’s adoption of Resolution 1325. The nascent “peace dividend” era ended overnight, and the “war on terror” was born. That shifted the global agenda dramatically toward counterterrorism and securitization. Suddenly, peacebuilding and human security were sidelined, and militarized approaches dominated again.

So, while 1325 was a landmark in 2000, by 2001 the world had changed, and we found ourselves having to defend its very premise—that peace and security depend on inclusion, dialogue, and human rights, not just military power.

You mentioned 9/11—how did that moment and the shift toward counterterrorism affect the implementation and perception of Resolution 1325?

9/11 was a major turning point that completely changed the global discourse on peace and security. The late 1990s had seen a wave of optimism—talk about human security, preventive diplomacy, and post-conflict reconstruction. Resolution 1325 came out of that moment.

The sudden shift to counterterrorism, security, and defense meant governments poured resources into militarized responses, intelligence, and border control. It was no longer about inclusion, prevention, or peacebuilding. Diplomacy became the last choice, while war became the first.

Ironically, women were used symbolically to justify some of those wars. The invasion of Afghanistan, for instance, was framed as “liberating Afghan women.” The language of women’s rights and empowerment was co-opted to serve a militarized agenda.

For those of us who had been advocating for 1325, it was deeply frustrating. We had just made the case that sustainable peace requires nonviolence, participation, and dialogue—and the world went in the opposite direction.

It also narrowed how “security” was defined. Instead of safety, justice, education, or economic well-being, it became about guns, borders, and threats. Funding also shifted. Over the years, programs on women, peace, and security that were marginally supported struggled to survive because the money was going into counterterrorism.

Many local women’s organizations that had been building peace were suddenly labeled as potential security risks or scrutinized. So 9/11 didn’t erase 1325, but it delayed and distorted its implementation. The world turned away from the values that underpinned it.

Now, 25 years later, when you look back at what’s happened since 1325, what do you see as the biggest areas of progress, and where do you think the most significant gaps remain?

There’s no question that 1325 changed the landscape. Prior to this resolution, there was no discourse recognizing women—and especially women peacebuilders from civil society—as actors that deserve a seat in peace processes. Now, at least in principle, this is addressed and championed by many. Every UN mediation team is expected to think about gender inclusion. Over 100 countries have national action plans on women, peace, and security.

We’ve also seen extraordinary leadership from women in conflict zones. Whether in Sudan, Yemen, Colombia, or Ukraine, women have organized, negotiated, and advocated for peace under impossible conditions. They’ve shown that WPS isn’t just a UN framework, it was and continues to be the lived reality for millions of women.

That said, the gap between rhetoric and reality remains huge. Implementation is uneven. Many national action plans are just documents and are not backed by budgets, political will, or accountability.

Globally, we are also seeing regression on women’s rights in many places—from Afghanistan to parts of Europe and the United States. Anti-feminist, anti-gender movements have become more vocal and organized. Of course, this attack on women’s leadership is itself indicative of the successful inroads that we are collectively making into the status quo. We are a threat, so they are pushing back. But there is a misunderstanding about the WPS agenda. This is not simply about gender equality within the status quo. We never wanted this to be about women having the equal right to go to war—to kill and maim or to be killed. It was about transformative equality for all, meaning we are working to ensure that neither our sons nor our daughters have to experience the hell of war. Similarly, this was never about making war safe for women, it was about stopping and preventing wars entirely.

We may we working against the prevailing winds of militarism, but local women peacebuilders—those doing the hardest and most courageous work—are persisting. They face threats, harassment, and shrinking civic space, often with very little protection or funding.

So yes, there has been progress. There’s more awareness, more language, more visibility. But the systems of political, military, and economic power haven’t really changed. That’s where the biggest gap remains.

Given all that, what do you think the next phase of the women, peace, and security agenda should look like? What needs to change to make it more effective today?

First, we need to bring this agenda back to its roots—to the women on the ground who are living peace and security every day. The WPS agenda was never meant to be a bureaucratic checklist; it was meant to recognize, support, and integrate what women were already doing in conflict settings into international efforts. It was also about heeding the warnings and listening to the strategies and solutions that women offer.

That means shifting power and resources. Instead of funding endless reports and conferences, we need to get money to the women mediating between armed groups, running schools under shelling, or documenting violations. They’re the real peacebuilders—not the ones sitting in New York or Geneva writing policy papers.

Second, we need accountability. Twenty-five years later, there is still no clear mechanism to hold states or institutions responsible for implementing 1325. Imagine if we treated WPS like we treat arms control—with reporting, compliance, and consequences. If a country fails to include or protect women, there should be political and financial repercussions.

Third, we have to rethink how we measure security. Security cannot just mean the absence of war or the presence of soldiers; it has to mean safety, justice, dignity, and the ability to live without fear—whether from bombs, poverty, or domestic violence. We need to humanize security, not securitize humanity.

And finally, we need to reclaim the narrative. Feminism and peacebuilding are not fringe issues; they are central to the survival of humanity. The more militarized and unequal the world becomes, the less secure we all are.

If 1325 taught us anything, it’s that change doesn’t come from the top. It comes from persistence, solidarity, and courage at the grassroots. That’s where the future of this agenda lies.

Looking back, you’ve played such an important role in shaping this agenda. What does it mean to you personally to see 1325 reach its 25th anniversary?

It’s very emotional, to be honest. When we started this work in the late 1990s, we were a small group of activists, researchers, and peacebuilders trying to get the world to see that women weren’t just victims. They were leading, negotiating, surviving, and rebuilding their communities.

At the time, people did not believe we could reach the Security Council—that the council would ever adopt such a vision. And yet we did it. Not because we were powerful, but because we were relentless and strategic. We believed that peace without women is incomplete, unjust, and unsustainable. We were also very tactical, opportunistic, and lucky. We had an extraordinary array of ambassadors presiding over the Security Council at the time. Ambassador Anwarul Chowdhury of Bangladesh being among them.

So when I look at 1325 today, I feel pride but also see unfinished business. It’s remarkable that, 25 years later, the resolution is still alive—cited, discussed, and embedded in policy frameworks worldwide. That means it struck a chord that cannot be undone.

But I also feel the weight of how far we still have to go. I meet young women from Afghanistan, Sudan, Gaza, Ukraine, and Colombia who are still fighting for the same recognition and inclusion that we fought for in the 1990s. The difference is they’re more  connected and they are adding their own vision and approaches—and that gives me hope. Every generation takes this work further.

For me, the legacy of 1325 isn’t about institutions; it’s about people—the women who refused to give up, the allies who stood with us, and the idea that peace is the only solution. Every war will end at some point. And in the midst of all wars, there are always pockets of peace. I believe that peace is the default of humanity.  We just cannot reward and rely on violence or profit from war to invest and value peace. The rest of us have to step in and take charge to shape peace and the future we want. This agenda enables us to do so. We have to keep up the work for our own children. That’s what keeps me going.