Each year, the Norwegian Nobel Committee faces the ancient question of how peace is made and who makes it — not in grand treaties alone, but in the quiet labor of those who shield children from war, feed the hungry in collapsed states, and insist that truth and law still matter. As Oslo prepares to announce the 2026 laureate from a field of 287 nominations, analysts point to five candidates whose work reflects a world under strain: a Ukrainian children's advocate, Sudanese community networks, a press freedom watchdog, two international courts, and — perhaps most poetically — a space station bu
Five frontrunners emerge for 2026 Nobel Peace Prize as committee prepares announcement
Everyday people serving humanity in the darkest times
So we have five frontrunners, but the committee has 287 nominations. How confident is Gjerløw actually in these picks?
He's a respected analyst with a track record, but he's also only the acting director—he didn't make last year's official predictions. His picks are informed guesses based on patterns, not inside information.
Right. And worth noting: nominations aren't public. We're taking Gjerløw's word for what the leading contenders are. Last year his predecessor didn't even predict the winner.
Why would the International Space Station be in contention? That seems almost absurd.
It's not absurd if you think about what the prize is supposed to recognize. The ISS is one of the few places where the US and Russia still work together, where 18 countries collaborate. In a world where multilateralism is collapsing, that's actually meaningful.
But it's also a stretch. The prize goes to people or organizations who promote peace between nations. The ISS is a scientific project. Gjerløw's argument is more poetic than substantive.
The numbers on journalists are staggering. 129 killed in one year?
It's the highest on record since they started tracking in the 1990s. Gaza alone made 2025 the deadliest year for reporters in modern history. That's not abstract—those are real people doing their jobs and dying for it.
The CPJ keeps that register, so those numbers are solid. But we should be clear: the CPJ itself is the nominee, not individual journalists. The argument is that honoring press freedom organizations sends a message about democracy.
What about Kuleba? He seems like the most traditional peace prize candidate.
He's been doing this work for twenty years, but especially since 2022 he's been coordinating evacuations and aid for children in occupied territories. That's direct, measurable impact in an active war zone.
The source doesn't give us numbers on how many children he's helped evacuate or how many are still at risk. We know he's done the work, but the scale isn't quantified.
And Sudan's Emergency Response Rooms—these are just regular people?
Exactly. They're not registered NGOs. They're Sudanese civilians organizing communal kitchens, fixing water systems, distributing medical supplies. They're funded by residents and charities, operating in a country where millions face food and water shortages.
Which makes them hard to verify and hard to measure. We know they exist and they're doing humanitarian work, but the source doesn't give us numbers on how many people they've reached or how many ERRs are operating.
Il Polso
- With 287 nominations and a fractured world as backdrop, the Nobel Committee faces unusual pressure to signal what kind of peace-building still counts in 2026.
- From Sudan's catastrophic civil war to Gaza's record journalist death toll, the candidates on the shortlist are not abstract institutions but responses to active, ongoing suffering.
- Grassroots networks in Sudan are feeding millions with no formal recognition, while a Ukrainian advocate has spent two decades pulling children out of the path of war — both represent peace built from the ground up rather than the top down.
- The inclusion of the International Space Station as a serious contender captures the anxiety of the moment: even a symbol of Cold War-era cooperation now feels like a fragile relic worth defending.
- Last year's winner, Venezuelan opposition leader Maria Corina Machado, was not predicted by analysts — a reminder that the Committee reserves the right to surprise, and that tonight's announcement remains genuinely open.
Each year, the Norwegian Nobel Committee faces the ancient question of how peace is made and who makes it — not in grand treaties alone, but in the quiet labor of those who shield children from war, feed the hungry in collapsed states, and insist that truth and law still matter. As Oslo prepares to announce the 2026 laureate from a field of 287 nominations, analysts point to five candidates whose work reflects a world under strain: a Ukrainian children's advocate, Sudanese community networks, a press freedom watchdog, two international courts, and — perhaps most poetically — a space station built by nations now at odds. The choice, whatever it is, will say something about what humanity believes peace still requires of itself.
The Norwegian Nobel Committee will name its 2026 Peace Prize winner in Oslo tonight, selecting from 287 nominations. Haakon Gjerløw, acting director of the Peace Research Institute Oslo, has identified five candidates he considers most likely to prevail — and together they sketch a portrait of a world in which peace is being defended, often desperately, from many different directions.
Mykola Kuleba, a Ukrainian children's rights advocate with two decades of experience fighting trafficking and cyberbullying, has since Russia's invasions coordinated evacuations and the return of deported children and families. Save the Children is also nominated in recognition of similar work protecting children in conflict zones. Both nominations reflect a conviction that the most vulnerable must be shielded even when — especially when — the world is at war.
Sudan's Emergency Response Rooms offer a strikingly different model. Unregistered and citizen-led, these grassroots networks have stepped into the void left by Sudan's civil war, running communal kitchens, repairing communications, and distributing water and medicine to millions. They are funded by ordinary Sudanese, charities, and international agencies — and they represent, in Gjerløw's view, the irreducible capacity of everyday people to serve one another in catastrophe.
The Committee to Protect Journalists enters the list against a grim backdrop: 129 journalists and media workers were killed in 2025, the highest toll in the organisation's thirty-year history, with Gaza now the deadliest war zone for reporters ever recorded. Recognising the CPJ would be a statement that democracy and peace cannot outlast the silencing of the press.
Two Hague-based courts — the International Court of Justice and the International Criminal Court — represent the principle that states and individuals must answer to international law, however imperfectly enforced. And then there is the International Space Station, orbiting 400 kilometres above the tensions below, a joint project of the US, Russia, Canada, Japan, and the EU that has hosted 222 astronauts from 18 countries since 2000 — a working monument to what cooperation once produced, and what its loss would mean.
Last year's winner, Venezuelan opposition leader Maria Corina Machado, was not on analysts' radar, a reminder that the Committee answers to no forecast. The announcement comes tonight at 8pm Australian Eastern Standard Time.
The Norwegian Nobel Committee will announce this year's peace prize winner in Oslo tonight, choosing from 287 nominations to honor someone or some organization judged to have done the most to advance peace between nations. While US President Donald Trump has again positioned himself as a contender, experts tracking the award say five other candidates are far more likely to receive it.
Haakon Gjerløw, acting director of the Peace Research Institute Oslo and a closely watched analyst of Nobel Peace Prize patterns, has identified the leading contenders. His picks reveal a consistent theme: the award may go to those working to protect vulnerable people, defend democratic institutions, or demonstrate that cooperation across borders remains possible even as the world fragments.
Mykola Kuleba, a Ukrainian children's rights advocate, stands as one frontrunner. For two decades, Kuleba has worked to shield Ukrainian children from trafficking and cyberbullying. Since Russia's 2014 invasion of Crimea and Donbas, he has coordinated emergency aid and evacuation assistance for Ukrainians forcibly deported from occupied territories. After Russia's full-scale invasion in 2022, Kuleba led efforts to return vulnerable civilians—children, orphans, families—to safety. He previously served as Ukraine's children's ombudsman, headed Kyiv's Children's Service, and co-founded the Ukraine Without Orphans Alliance. Gjerløw noted that both Kuleba's work and that of Save the Children, the international organization, underscore the necessity of protecting children caught in war.
Sudan's Emergency Response Rooms represent a different kind of candidate: grassroots, unregistered, and driven by ordinary citizens. As civil war ravages Sudan and food, water, and medicine grow scarce, these community-led networks have filled the void. Operating across the country, they have established communal kitchens, coordinated evacuations, repaired communications infrastructure, and distributed clean water, fuel, and medical supplies to millions. Funded by Sudanese residents, charities, and international agencies, the ERRs embody what Gjerløw calls the power of everyday people to serve humanity in the darkest times.
The Committee to Protect Journalists, a US-based watchdog, has documented an alarming trend. In 2025, 129 journalists and media workers were killed globally—the highest number since the organization began tracking deaths more than thirty years ago. Gaza has become the deadliest war zone for reporters in modern history. Gjerløw suggested that honoring the CPJ would remind the world that peace and democracy cannot survive if journalists are silenced.
Two international courts—the International Court of Justice and the International Criminal Court, both based in The Hague—round out Gjerløw's list. The ICJ, established in 1945, resolves legal disputes between states, though its rulings lack formal enforcement mechanisms. The ICC prosecutes individuals for genocide, crimes against humanity, and war crimes. Gjerløw sees both as essential anchors of global order in an increasingly fractured world, representing the principle that states and leaders must answer to international law.
Perhaps the most unexpected contender is the International Space Station. Orbiting 400 kilometers above Earth, the ISS is the product of space agencies from the United States, Russia, Canada, Japan, and the European Union. Launched in 1998 and continuously inhabited since November 2000, it has hosted 222 astronauts from as many as 18 countries. Gjerløw argues that the ISS symbolizes what humanity can achieve through cooperation—a rare and fragile symbol in an era of narrowing national interests and collapsing multilateralism.
Last year's predictions, made by then-director Nina Græger, overlapped significantly with Gjerløw's current list but did not anticipate the eventual winner, Venezuelan opposition leader Maria Corina Machado, who donated her prize to Trump. Græger had tipped organizations including Europe's Office for Democratic Institutions and Human Rights, The Carter Center, the Women's International League for Peace and Freedom, the CPJ, Sudan's ERRs, and both courts.
The announcement comes tonight at 8pm Australian Eastern Standard Time.
Citazioni salienti
Awarding the peace prize to Sudan's ERRs would highlight the power of everyday people to serve humanity in difficult times of conflict— Haakon Gjerløw, acting director of the Peace Research Institute Oslo
The ISS represents a rare symbol of global cooperation amid crumbling multilateralism and narrowing national interests— Haakon Gjerløw