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Over the last two decades, the Horn of Africa has witnessed an increase of foreigntroops in Djibouti, a rise in investments along the Red Sea, and more pronounced engagement in its internal affairs by confirmed and emerging powers all of which showcase the geopolitical appetite for influence in the region. Yet current crises – the war in Sudan, persisting insecurity in Somalia, renewed tensions between Ethiopia and Eritrea, and contentious relations between countries – underscore an uncertain future that could make the volatile region even more prone to external influence. Will local leadership step up to the task of preserving stability through improved regional relations or leave its most pressing issues unresolved?

An analysis by Mvemba Phezo Dizolele, Mwachofi Singo, and Hallelujah Wondimu published earlier this year by the Center for Strategic and International Studies provides key insights on the risk posed by the absence of a clear pillar state(s) to push for peace and security within the region which could worsen its vulnerability to competing middle powers.

The three experts on African geopolitics argue that given its history of conflicts and ongoing tensions, the region demands the rise of Ethiopia and Kenya as stronger leaders able to drive reform initiatives aimed at protecting the interests of the Horn of Africa. As such, the two nations offer strong, suitable and strategic advantages for the region despite facing their own internal and regional challenges which they must also attend to.

The CSIS report view Ethiopia’s role as central to transforming the region towards a stable and self-sufficient neighborhood capable of addressing its own tensions, preserving peace and promoting economic development. Whether Ethiopia intends to assume this role, however, rests on the success of its current transition that began since Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed took power in 2018 following decades of Tigray dominance over the country. Yet the envisioned reinforcement of the federal structure led by a strong central government has had setbacks in the last few years with the occurrence of the violent war in Tigray and ongoing security concerns over autonomy seeking movements.

This suggests that Ethiopia will inevitably have significant nation building to do to preserve the unity of the country hence the recent inward focus to stabilize domestic tensions. The achievement of the Renaissance Dam stands as good symbol of national harmony that could be replicated across other sectors of society to reinforce inclusion and equity. This image of improved and steady stability in Ethiopia is crucial to consolidate its leadership position in the region.

According to the researchers, Ethiopia’s (re)emergence as a leader in the Horn is also closely linked to its capacity to improve its relations with neighbors which have deteriorated the last few years. They cite the territorial dispute with Sudan, the sudden outreach to Somaliland irritating Somalia and Djibouti or one could add renewed animosity with Eritrea. Ironically, these frictions could lead to Ethiopia’s further rapprochement with external emerging actors eager to increase their influence in the region that will further complicate regional cooperation imperative for stability. This signals a pressing need for the country to reset its relations with its neighbors as the current trajectory could end up being an obstacle towards its economic development. Again, the Grand Renaissance Dam which is already a major component of Ethiopia’s trade policy in the region could be the catalyst needed to reinvigorate diplomatic ties.

While Ethiopia remains focused on its introspection and on pursuing a more bilateral approach to regional diplomacy, Kenya could seize the opportunity to accentuate its leadership position and diplomatic consistency. Kenya’s relatively peaceful independence transition and constant display of neutrality when engaging mediation processes forged its image as a credible leader for the region. The report also highlights a long history of proactive foreign policy by successive Kenyan presidents which emphasized economic development through regional trade integration. However, Kenya’s recent actions with regards to the Sudan conflict and the war in the DRC might alter its reputation and ability to conduct peace initiatives in the region while similar moves may instead translate an incoherent foreign strategy.

Nevertheless, it would be hard to imagine Kenya further jeopardize its stabilizing role as the country’s own development ambitions largely rests on its capacity to promote regional stability crucial to economic trade with its neighbors. This underscores the need for Nairobi to remain committed to its traditional diplomatic playbook to support impartial interventions while preserving its leverage and reputation throughout such processes.

In addition, Kenyan legacy could be further undermined by internal challenges in light of the gen z movement which may be a decisive political factor ahead of the 2027 elections. Latest developments in Morrocco or Madagascar could give a glimpse of the consequences of such social efforts in Kenya. Whether or not Kenyan youth are able to shake the government, political leaders should implement policies responding to the youth socioeconomic concerns as prolong unrests could diminish its global influence capacity so dear to the current administration.

In a rapidly shifting world order where middle powers are keen on exerting their own vision in the Horn of Africa, it becomes imperative for local leadership to assert regional autonomy to solve issues. Stability and improved inter-state relations should then discourage governments from seeking external support when pursuing domestic interests.

Kenya and Ethiopia both retain significant assets to affirm their influence in the Horn despite their own challenges. However, their capacity to assume an independent leading position might be more uncertain. The almost complete monopolization of the conflict resolution processes in Sudan or the DRC by the United States and the Gulf States clearly reveals the consequences of weak regional leadership. Kenya and Ethiopia could instead harmonize their regional policies through platforms such as the East African Community and the Intergovernmental Authority on Development. Ultimately, Kenya and Ethiopia’s ability to intensify their strategic partnerships could lay the foundation for regional autonomy and stability.  

Somehow in Los Angeles, everything comes back to traffic.

While making their works featured in the Hammer Museum’s Made in L.A. biennial, artists Patrick Martinez, Freddy Villalobos and Gabriela Ruiz set out to capture the essence of the city’s crammed streets through different lenses.

For over a decade, the Hammer has curated its Made in L.A. series to feature artists who grapple with the realities of living and making art here. It’s an art show that simultaneously pays homage to legacy L.A. artists like Alonzo Davis and Judy Baca, and gives a platform to newer faces such as Lauren Halsey and Jackie Amezquita.

This year’s show, which opened last month, features 28 artists. As part of that cohort, Martinez, Villalobos and Ruiz bring their lived experiences as Latinos from L.A. to the West Side art institution, drawing inspiration from the landscapes of their upbringing.

While creating their displayed works, Martinez took note of the many neon signs hanging in stores’ windows, leading him to make “Hold the Ice,” an anti-ICE sign, and incorporate bright pink lights into his outdoor cinder block mural, “Battle of the City on Fire.” With flashing lights and a shuttered gate tacked onto a painted wooden panel, Ruiz drew on her experiences exploring the city at night and the over-surveillance of select neighborhoods in the interactive piece, “Collective Scream.” Villalobos filmed Figueroa Street from a driver’s perspective, observing the street’s nighttime activity and tracing the energy that surrounds the place where soul singer Sam Cooke was shot.

This year, Made in L.A. doesn’t belong to a specific theme or a title — but as always, the selected art remains interconnected. These three artists sat down with De Los to discuss how their L.A. upbringing has influenced their artistic practice and how their exhibited works are in conversation. Made in L.A. will be on view until March 1, 2026.

The following conversation has been condensed and edited for clarity.

All three of you seem to put a spotlight on various elements of L.A.’s public spaces. How is your art affected by your surroundings?

Ruiz: I really got to explore L.A. as a whole, through partying and going out at night. I prefer seeing this city at night, because there isn’t so much traffic. That’s how I started my art practice. I would perform in queer nightlife spaces and throw parties in cheap warehouses. With my commute from the Valley, I would notice so much. I wouldn’t speed through the freeway. I’d instead take different routes, so I’d learn to navigate the whole city without a GPS and see things differently.

Martinez: That’s also how I started seeing neons. I had a studio in 2006 in downtown, off 6th and Alameda. I would wait for traffic to fade because I was staying in Montebello at the time. I would drive down Whittier Boulevard at night. And you see all the neon signs that have a super saturated color and glow bright. I thought about its messaging. None of the businesses were open that late. They were just letting people know they were there.

Ruiz: Specifically in this piece [“Collective Scream”], there’s a blinking street lamp. It reminds me of when I would leave raves and would randomly see this flickering light. It’s this hypnotizing thing that I would observe and take note of whenever I was on the same route. There’s also a moving gate, [in my piece,] that resembles the ones you see when you’re driving late at night and everything’s gated up.

Villalobos: You do experience a lot of L.A. from your car. It’s a cliche. But f— it. It’s true. When I moved out of L.A., I felt a little odd. I missed the bubble of my car. You can have what seems to be a private moment in your car in a city that’s packed with traffic and so many people. It made me think about what that means, what kind of routes people are taking and how we cultivate community.

Patrick Martinez’s “Battle of the City on Fire,” made in 2025, was inspired by the work of the muralist collective, named the East Los Streetscapers.

(Sarah M Golonka / smg photography)

It’s interesting that you all found inspiration in the biggest complaints about L.A. Maybe there’s something to think about when it comes to the way those born here think of car culture and traffic.

Martinez: I see its effects even with the landscapes I make. I’ll work from left to right, and that’s how we all look at the world when we drive. I always think about Michael Mann movies when I’m making landscapes, especially at night. He has all those moments of quiet time of being in the car and just focusing on what’s going on.

Beyond surveying the streets, your works touch on elements of the past. There’s a common notion that L.A. tends to disregard its past, like when legacy restaurants shut down or when architectural feats get demolished. Does this idea play any role in your work?

Martinez: The idea of L.A. being ashamed of its past pushed me to work with cinder blocks [in “Battle of the City on Fire”]. One of the main reasons was to bring attention to the East Los Streetscapers, the muralists who painted in East L.A. [in the 1960s and ‘70s as a part of the Chicano Mural Movement]. There was this one mural in Boyle Heights that was painted at a Shell gas station. It was later knocked down and in the demolition pictures, the way the cinder blocks were on the floor looked like a sculptural painting. It prompted me to use cinder blocks as a form of sculpture and think about what kind of modern-day ruins we pass by.

Villalobos: Speaking about L.A. as a whole feels almost too grand for me. But if I think about my specific neighborhood, in South Central, what comes to my mind is Black Radical Tradition. It’s where people are able to make something out of what other people might perceive as nothing. There’s always something that’s being created and mixed and mashed together to make something that, to me, is beautiful. It’s maybe not as beautiful to other people, but it’s still a new and creative way to see things and understand what comes before us.

Ruiz: Seeing my parents, who migrated to this country, come from nothing and start from scratch ties into that idea too. Seeing what they’ve been able to attain, and understanding how immigrants can start up businesses and restaurants here, speaks so much to what L.A. is really about. It’s about providing an opportunity that everybody has.

So it’s less about disregarding the past and more about making something out of nothing?

Martinez: It ties back to necessity, for me. Across this city, people come together by doing what they need to do to pay rent. It’s a crazy amount of money to be here. People need to regularly adjust what they do to survive. Recently, I’ve been seeing that more rapidly. There are more food vendors and scrolling LED signs, advertising different things. Once you understand how expensive this backdrop can be, that stuff sits with me.

Freddy Villalobos’ “waiting for the stone to speak, for I know nothing of aventure,” is an immersive work in which viewers can feel loud vibrations pass as they, figuratively, travel down Figueroa Street.

(Sarah M Golonka / smg photography)

We’ve talked a lot about how the past affects L.A. and the role it plays in your art. Does a future L.A. ever cross your mind?

Villalobos: I feel very self-conscious about what I’m gonna say. But as much as I love L.A. and as much as it helped me become who I am, I wouldn’t be too mad with it falling apart. A lot of people from my neighborhood have already been moving to Lancaster, Palmdale and the Inland Empire. When I go to the IE, it feels a little like L.A. and I’m not necessarily mad at that.

Ruiz: It’s really difficult to see what the future holds for anybody. Even with art, what’s going to happen? I don’t know. It’s really challenging to see a future when there’s a constant cycle of bad news about censorship and lack of funding.

Martinez: It’s murky. It’s clouded. This whole year has been so heavy, and everyone talking about it adds to it, right? We’re facing economic despair, and it’s all kind of heavy. Who knows what the future will hold? But there are definitely moves being made by the ruling class to make it into something.

Latin America’s political landscape has seen sweeping shifts in recent years. On one hand, a so-called “second Pink Tide” has returned left-of-centre governments to power in key countries – Lula in Brazil, Petro in Colombia, and the broad left in Mexico – inspiring hopes of renewed democracy and social reform. On the other hand, strongman leaders like El Salvador’s Nayib Bukele (a populist outsider not usually labelled “leftist”) and Venezuela’s Nicolás Maduro (an entrenched Chavista) have consolidated control in ways critics call authoritarian. The question looms: are these developments evidence that the region is sliding back toward autocracy, cloaked in progressive rhetoric? Or are they legitimate shifts reflecting popular will and necessary reform? Recent trends in Brazil, Mexico, Colombia, El Salvador, and Venezuela, show serious democratic backsliding, populist leadership styles, and the uses (and abuses) of leftist language to consolidate power rather than give it back to the people.

Brazil: Lula’s Left Turn and the Security State

Brazil’s democracy was violently tested in early 2023 when Jair Bolsonaro’s supporters stormed Congress, the Supreme Court, and the presidential palace. The crisis – and the swift legal response by institutions – helped vindicate Brazil’s checks and balances. When former President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva (Lula) won the 2022 election, many Brazilians breathed a sigh of relief as they felt and agreed that a second Bolsonaro term would have propelled Brazil further into autocracy, whereas Lula’s coalition blocked that outcome. Polls showed Brazilians rallying to defend democracy after the Jan. 8 insurrection, and Lula himself has repeatedly proclaimed Brazil a “champion of democracy” on the world stage. Under Lula, Brazil has indeed reversed some of Bolsonaro’s more extreme policies, especially on the environment and social welfare, and the Supreme Court remains independent and active.

At the same time, Brazil still grapples with brutal crime and controversial security policies. In October 2025 a massive police raid in Rio de Janeiro’s favelas – involving roughly 2,500 officers – killed at least 119 people (115 suspected traffickers and 4 officers). Human rights groups denounced the operation as a massacre, reporting that many of the victims were killed execution-style. President Lula’s justice minister stated that Lula was horrified by the death toll and had not authorised the raid, which took place without federal approval. Rights investigators noted that in 2024, approximately 700 people were killed in police actions in Rio—nearly two per day, even before this incident. The episode underscored the persistence of militarised and largely unaccountable security practices, rooted in decades of mano dura policing. Lula’s administration, however, has publicly condemned the use of excessive force and pledged to pursue meaningful reforms in public security policy.

In short, Brazil’s picture is mixed. Bolsonarismo (Bolsonaro’s movement) still holds sway in many state capitals, and violence remains high. But Lula’s presidency so far shows more emphasis on rebuilding institutions and fighting inequality than on authoritarian control. Brazil’s democracy has shown resilience: after the coup attempt, support for democracy actually peaked among the public. Lula himself has publicly affirmed free speech and criticised right-wing attacks, reversing some of Bolsonaro’s polarising rhetoric. Thus, we can view Brazil as democratic, albeit fragile. The major ongoing concerns are police brutality and crime – which are treated as security policy issues more than political power grabs by the president.

However, although Lula’s third term has been marked by a renewed emphasis on social justice, labour rights, and environmental protection, it has also been coupled with a discourse that often frames politics as a moral battle between the people and entrenched elites. This populist tone has reinforced his image as a defender of ordinary Brazilians while simultaneously deepening political polarisation and straining institutional checks and balances. His leadership style tends to concentrate moral and political authority around his persona, blending pragmatic governance with an appeal to popular sentiment. Even though Lula continues to operate within democratic frameworks, this personalisation of power highlights the persistent tension between populist mobilisation and institutional restraint in Brazil’s fragile democracy.

Mexico: Welfare Reforms and Power Consolidation

Mexico’s case is more worrisome. Andrés Manuel López Obrador (AMLO, 2018–2024), a self-declared leftist populist, implemented a dramatic concentration of power. By 2024 his ruling Morena party controlled the presidency, both houses of Congress, and most state governorships. His government pushed through constitutional amendments that bolstered the executive and weakened independent checks. By the end of his term, his party had achieved full control of the executive branch, both chambers of Congress, and most subnational states, and it overhauled the judiciary and strengthened the military through reforms aimed at executive aggrandisement and weakening checks and balances. In plain terms, AMLO used his majority to rewrite rules in his favour.

AMLO’s populist rhetoric was central to this process. He constantly framed his campaign as a fight against corrupt “elites” and the “old” political order. Slogans like “Por el bien de todos, primero los pobres” (For the good of all, first the poor) became rallying cries.  On the surface, that populist welfare agenda – pensions for seniors, higher minimum wage, social programmes – delivered what could be perceived as real results. Poverty fell sharply: by 2024 over 13.4 million fewer Mexicans lived below the poverty line, a historic 26% drop. These benefits helped AMLO maintain high approval from his base. Yet a closer look reveals a more complex picture. Independent analyses show that much of this reduction is linked to temporary cash transfers and post-pandemic economic recovery rather than structural improvements in wages, education, or healthcare. Inequality and informality remain deeply entrenched, and millions continue to rely on precarious, low-paid work. Moreover, Mexico’s social spending has not been matched by investments in institutional capacity or transparency, raising concerns that short-term welfare gains may mask longer-term fragility. In this sense,  López Obrador’s populist social model contrasted starkly with its narrative of transformation: it has lifted incomes in the immediate term but done little to strengthen the foundations of sustainable, equitable development.

Also the same rhetoric that promised to empower the poor also justified undermining institutions. AMLO’s blend of social policy with authoritarian tactics created a downward trend in freedoms. He openly clashed with autonomous agencies and critical media, called judges “traitors,” and even moved to punish an independent Supreme Court justice. AMLO began implementing his unique brand of populist governance, combining a redistributive fiscal policy with democratic backsliding and power consolidation. In 2024’s Freedom Index, Mexico plummeted from “mostly free” to “low freedom,” reflecting accelerated erosion of press freedom, judicial independence, and checks on the executive.

For example, AMLO mused about revoking autonomy of the election commission (INE) and packed federal courts with loyalists. He oversaw a lawsuit that temporarily replaced the anti-monopoly commissioner (though this was later reversed). Controversial judicial reforms were rammed through Congress with MORENA’s (National Regeneration Movement) supermajority. In the name of fighting corruption, AMLO and his party sidestepped democratic norms. By the time he left office, many prominent dissidents had been labelled enemies of the people, and civil-society watchdogs reported increasing self-censorship under fear of government reprisals.

Legitimate reforms vs. power grabs: Of course, AMLO’s administration did achieve significant social gains. His policies tripled the minimum wage and expanded social pensions for the elderly and students. From the left’s point of view, these are overdue redresses of inequality after decades of neoliberal policy. Nevertheless, one can also say that AMLO pursued these at the expense of Mexico’s democracy.

AMLO’s successor, Claudia Sheinbaum has largely extended the populist and centralising model of her predecessor. Her government has expanded the same welfare policies – including pensions for the elderly, youth scholarships, and agricultural subsidies – which continue to secure her strong approval ratings. At the same time, she has pursued a more nationalist economic strategy, favouring the state over private or renewable investment, a move seen by many as ideologically driven rather than economically sound.

Her administration’s approach to governance has reinforced concerns about democratic backsliding. Within months of taking power, her party used its congressional majority to pass a sweeping judicial reform allowing for the election of nearly all judges, a measure widely interpreted as undermining judicial independence. She also oversaw the dismantling of Mexico’s autonomous transparency and regulatory agencies, institutions originally created to prevent executive overreach after decades of one-party rule. Her rhetoric, while measured compared to López Obrador’s, has nonetheless targeted independent electoral and judicial authorities as acting against the popular will. Violence against journalists and judicial pressure on the press have continued under her watch, suggesting a continuity of the authoritarian tendencies embedded in her predecessor’s style of governance. In effect, Sheinbaum has presented herself as the guardian of López Obrador’s so-called “Fourth Transformation”, but her actions increasingly blur the line between social reform and the consolidation of political control.

Meanwhile, MORENA, the ruling party, has evolved into a hegemonic political force that increasingly mirrors the old Institutional Revolutionary Party (PRI). Having consolidated control over the presidency, Congress, and most governorships, MORENA now dominates the national political landscape with little meaningful opposition. Its supermajority has enabled constitutional changes that weaken autonomous regulators and reconfigure the judiciary in its favour. Efforts to overhaul the electoral system – including proposals to curtail proportional representation and cut funding for opposition parties – further tilt the playing field towards one-party dominance. The party’s control of state resources and vast social programmes has also revived the clientelism and political patronage once characteristic of PRI rule. Many regional elites and former PRI figures have joined MORENA’s ranks, expanding its reach through local alliances and personal networks. This combination of electoral dominance, state control, and populist legitimacy has left few institutional counterweights to its power. In practice, Mexico’s political system is sliding back towards the PRI-style arrangement it once fought to overcome: a single dominant party using popular mandates and social welfare to entrench its hold over the state while constraining the mechanisms of democratic accountability.

Colombia: Peace Agenda and Institutional Pushback

Colombia’s new president, Gustavo Petro (in office since August 2022), is the country’s first-ever leftist head of state. He campaigned on ending historical violence and inequality, reaching a definitive peace with guerrilla groups, and “transforming” Colombian society. To that end, Petro has pursued ambitious reforms – agrarian, labor, climate, and constitutional – some of which have hit roadblocks in Congress and the courts.

One flashpoint has been his call for a constitutional rewrite. Petro announced he would ask voters (via the 2026 legislative elections ballot) whether to convene a national constituent assembly to draft a new constitution. He argues that traditional institutions (Congress and the courts) repeatedly blocked key reforms – for instance, an environmental tax and a gender law were struck down as unconstitutional – and that only a direct mandate could implement his agenda. In his own words, he has framed the move as carrying out “the people’s mandate for peace and justice”, implicitly casting political opposition as elitist roadblocks. Arguably, under Colombia’s 1991 Constitution, a referendum on reform first requires legislation from Congress; the president alone cannot unilaterally change the constitution. Indeed, Petro’s coalition lost its majority in the Senate after the 2024 elections, and even has a minority in the House. That means he cannot force through a referendum law on his own.

Petro’s gambit is a stress test of Colombia’s institutions. Although Petro is popular with part of the electorate, and the checks and balances in the country have been holding– Congress and the Constitutional Court can still block overreach. Petro’s approval ratings hover around 37%, giving savvy opponents incentive to organise rallies or boycotts if he tries an end-run around Congress. Moreover, Colombia’s Constitutional Court has so far signalled it will strictly enforce procedural requirements before any reform, and it would likely strike down any effort to allow immediate presidential reelection (which the constitution currently bans). In fact, observers have flagged concern that Petro might push to permit his own re-election, raising alarm among civil society and international partners.

Thus far Petro has not succeeded in weakening institutions as Bolsonaro did in Brazil or Maduro in Venezuela. To the contrary, Colombia’s court and electoral tribunal have acted independently, even prosecuting members of Petro’s coalition for campaign irregularities. The country’s strong judicial branch remains a bulwark. That said, the tone of politics has become extremely polarised and personal. After a recent assassination of a presidential candidate (son of former President Uribe), the campaign trail saw shrill accusations: Petro’s supporters often label their opponents “far-right extremists,” while his critics call him a “communist” or worse. This combustible rhetoric – on all sides – could jeopardise stability.

Colombia today embodies both promise and peril. Petro has introduced progressive initiatives (such as a new climate ministry and child allowances) that appeal to many, but he also openly questions the role of old elites and considers dramatic institutional change. His proposals have not yet realised an authoritarian shift, but they have tested the separation of powers. The situation is dynamic: if Petro tries to override constraints, Colombia’s existing democratic guardrails (courts, Congress, watchdogs) will likely react strongly. The key question will be whether Colombia can channel legitimate popular demands through its institutions without them buckling under pressure.

El Salvador: The Bukele Model of “Punitive Populism”

El Salvador stands apart. President Nayib Bukele (in power since 2019, re-elected 2024) defies easy ideological labelling– he was not from the traditional leftist bloc – but his governance style has strong authoritarian features. His rise was fuelled by a promise to crush the country’s notorious gangs, and indeed El Salvador’s homicide rate plummeted under his rule. Bukele has remade a nation that was once the world’s murder capital. According to  figures, over 81,000 alleged gang members have been jailed since 2022 – about one in 57 Salvadorans – and Bukele enjoys sky-high approval ratings (around 90%) from citizens tired of crime. These results have been touted as proof that his “iron fist” strategy of mass arrests and harsh prison sentences (the world’s largest incarceration rate) has worked. In this sense, Bukele’s firm grip on security is seen by many supporters as a legitimate reform: a state that delivers safety, even at the cost of civil liberties.

However, the democratic trade-offs have been extreme. Since 2022, Bukele has ruled largely by decree under a perpetual state of emergency, suspending key constitutional rights (due process, privacy, freedom of assembly). Criminal suspects – including minors – are arrested en masse without warrants and often held in overcrowded prisons. The president has openly interfered in the judiciary: his pro-government legislators dismissed all members of the Supreme Court and Attorney General’s office in 2021–22, replacing them with loyalists. This allowed Bukele to evade the constitutional prohibition on immediate presidential re-election and secure a second term in 2024. Even ordinary political opposition has been effectively pulverised, party leaders disqualified, judges threatened, and dissenters harassed or driven into exile.

Human-rights groups accuse Bukele’s security forces of torture and disappearances of innocent people swept up in the dragnet. A 2024 Latinobarómetro survey found that 61% of Salvadorans fear negative consequences for speaking out against the regime – despite the fact that Bukele’s formal approval remains high. Many critics now call him a “social-media-savvy strongman” or “millennial caudillo”, suggesting he leads by personal charisma and social-media influence.

On the other hand, his defenders argue Bukele has simply done what past governments could not: restore order and invest in infrastructure (like child-care and tech initiatives) that were ignored for years. Indeed, El Salvador under Bukele has attracted foreign investment (notably in Bitcoin ventures) and even hosted international events like Miss Universe, as if to signal normalcy. But  Bukele has built his legitimacy on the back of extraordinary measures that sideline democracy. Bukele’s popularity may export a brand of ‘punitive populism’ that leads other heads of state to restrict constitutional rights, and when (not if) public opinion turns, the country may find itself with no peaceful outlet for change. In other words, El Salvador’s example shows how quickly a welfare-and-security-oriented leader can morph into an authoritarian ruler once key institutions are neutered.

Venezuela: Consolidated Authoritarianism

Venezuela is the clearest example of democracy overtaken by authoritarianism. Over the past quarter-century, Hugo Chávez and his successor Nicolás Maduro have steadily dismantled democratic institutions, replacing them with a one-party state. Today Venezuela is widely recognised as a full electoral dictatorship, not an anomaly but a case study in how leftist populism can yield outright autocracy. The 2024 presidential election was the latest illustration: overwhelming evidence suggests the opposition actually won by a landslide, yet the regime hid the true vote counts, declared Maduro the winner with a suspicious 51% share, and reinstalled him for a third term. Venezuela’s leaders purposefully steered Venezuela toward authoritarianism. It is now a fully consolidated electoral dictatorship

Since then, Maduro’s government has stamped out virtually all resistance. Leading opposition figures have been harassed, jailed, or exiled. Opposition candidate María Corina Machado – who reportedly won twice as many votes as Maduro was banned by the Supreme Court from even running. New laws passed in late 2024 further chill dissent: for example, the “Simón Bolívar” sanctions law criminalises criticism of the state, and an “Anti-NGO” law gives authorities broad power to shut down civil-society groups if they receive foreign funds. All justice in Venezuela is now rubber-stamped by Maduro’s hand-picked judges.

Any pretense of pluralism has vanished. State media and pro-government mobs drown out or beat up remaining critics. Despite dire economic collapse and mass exodus (millions of Venezuelans have fled hunger and repression), Maduro governs with an iron grip. In short, Venezuela today is an example of ideological rhetoric (Chavismo, Bolivarian Revolution) entirely subsumed by power. It also serves as a caution: the veneer of elections and redistributive slogans can sometimes hide total dictatorship. (In Venezuela’s case, the “leftist” regime never even bothered to disguise its authoritarian turn.)

Legitimacy, Rhetoric, and Checks

Throughout these cases, a common theme emerges: populist rhetoric vs institutional reality. Leftist or progressive leaders often claim to champion the poor and marginalised – a message that resonates in societies scarred by inequality. Yet in practice, that rhetoric sometimes becomes a justification for concentrating power. AMLO spoke of a “fourth transformation” of Mexico to overcome the “old regime,” and applied that mission to reshape institutions. Petro invokes “the will of the people” to override what he calls elite obstruction. Lula’s Brazil has been less about overthrowing elites and more about undoing his predecessor’s policies. And Bukele promises safety so absolute that he deems dissent a luxury Salvadorans cannot afford.

Of course, leftist governments do enact genuine reforms. The region has seen expansions of social programmes, pensions, healthcare, and education in many countries. In a sense, voters rewarded candidates like Lula, Petro, and AMLO precisely because they promised change and delivered temporary benefits (scholarships, pensions, workers’ pay raises, etc.). But even well-meaning reforms can backfire if the manner of governing ignores constitutional limits.

Where was the line crossed from policy to autocracy? The answer varies. In Venezuela, it was crossed long ago. In El Salvador, it was in 2020 when the Supreme Court was neutered. In Mexico and Colombia, it might yet be crossed if current trends continue. Notably, independent institutions have played the decisive role. Brazil’s judiciary and congress checked Bolsonaro and remain intact under Lula; Colombia’s still-revolutionary courts have so far blocked Petro’s more radical ideas;  under Claudia Sheinbaum, Mexico’s courts remain constrained by the constitutional limits that formally prevent presidential re-election, yet her administration’s actions have significantly weakened judicial independence. By politicising judicial appointments and curbing the autonomy of oversight bodies, her government has consolidated influence over the very institutions meant to act as checks on executive authority. In practice, Mexico’s judiciary is now more vulnerable to political pressure than at any time since the end of PRI dominance, reflecting a growing concentration of power within the presidency and the ruling party. In contrast, Venezuela’s courts have no independence at all, and El Salvador’s were replaced wholesale.

This suggests that Latin America has not uniformly fallen back into classic authoritarianism under “leftist” governments. Instead, populist leaders of varying ideologies have tested democratic boundaries, and outcomes differ by country. Where institutions remained strong, they provided a buffer. Where institutions were undermined, democracy withered.

The Future of Democracy in Latin America

So what does the future hold? After a brief blip of improvement, democracy metrics in Latin America appear to be declining again. In 2023, a composite index actually rose slightly, driven by gains in Colombia (Free status by Freedom House) and Brazil. But by 2024 the region was “re-autocratising”, with rule-of-law slipping in Mexico and Peru, and older warning signs re-emerging across the continent.

Key factors will influence the coming years. On one hand, many Latin Americans remain hungry for security, equity, and an end to corruption – needs that populist leaders address. If such leaders deliver results (as Bukele did on crime), public tolerance for illiberal methods may persist. On the other hand, the region has a relatively robust civil society, and voters in countries like Brazil and Colombia have shown willingness to hold leaders accountable.

Balance is crucial. In well-functioning democracies, major changes do not require emergency decrees or friendly courts; they require compromise and open debate. The examples of Mexico and El Salvador show how quickly democratic norms can erode when populist leaders wield their mandate without restraint.

Ultimately, Latin America’s record is not hopeless, but neither is it fully reassuring. The early 2020s have demonstrated that both left-wing and right-wing populisms can strain democracy. Are we returning to authoritarianism under a leftist facade? – has no single answer. In countries like Venezuela, the answer is emphatically yes. In others, it is a warning under construction: Mexico and El Salvador caution us, Colombia is at a crossroads, and Brazil’s experience suggests that institutions can still provide meaningful checks on executive power, but their resilience is not guaranteed. The recent police raid in Rio de Janeiro, serves as a stark test for Lula’s commitment to reforming Brazil’s militarised public-security apparatus. How his government responds to this and similar incidents will be a critical measure of whether Brazil’s democratic institutions can withstand pressure from both public opinion and entrenched security structures, or whether longstanding legacies of unchecked police power will continue to erode accountability.

For the future of the region, the lesson is that rhetoric alone cannot safeguard democracy. Even popular leaders must respect independent judiciaries, free press, and electoral integrity. If those pillars are allowed to crumble, Latin America’s democratic gains will fade. The coming years will test whether each country’s citizens insist on true democratic practice or allow the allure of strong leadership to override constitutional limits.

Marilyn Hubalde recalls the fear of local residents in Batanes, Philippines, when they first heard military helicopters during joint exercises with U. S. troops in April 2023. Hubalde’s helper even hid in the woods, thinking war had begun. The military drills, part of increased U. S.-Philippines cooperation, involve airlifting anti-ship missile launchers to the islands, marking a significant shift for the once-peaceful province.

Situated near Taiwan, Batanes is now seen as a frontline region in the competition between the U. S. and China for influence in Asia. The province is close to the Bashi Channel, an important shipping route between the Philippines and Taiwan, which connects the South China Sea to the Western Pacific. The recent exercises highlighted how both countries plan to use ground-based missiles to prevent Chinese naval access in potential conflicts.

Experts emphasize that denying Chinese control of the Bashi Channel is crucial, as it could decide the outcome of any conflict. Retired military officials state that controlling the northern Philippines is essential for any Chinese invasion of Taiwan, which China claims as its territory. President Xi Jinping has stated that China may use force to assert control over Taiwan, a position Taiwan’s government rejects, insisting that its future is for its people to determine.

China’s foreign ministry has warned the Philippines against involving external forces and escalating tensions in the South China Sea, calling Taiwan an internal issue that should not involve outside interference. The Pentagon and Taiwan’s defense ministry did not provide comments on these developments.

Using the ‘First Island Chain’

American military deployments in Batanes are part of a broader Pentagon strategy focused on using the Philippines’ geographic position to deter or counter Chinese military actions towards Taiwan and other areas in the South China Sea. The Philippines, consisting of over 7,600 islands and vital maritime chokepoints, is essential to the “First Island Chain,” which comprises territories controlled by U. S. allies, forming a barrier against China’s expanding navy. Rear Admiral Roy Trinidad of the Philippine Navy stated that the archipelago serves as a crucial gateway between the South China Sea and the Pacific Ocean.

The U. S. aims to ensure this gateway remains secure, despite uncertainties about American security commitments under President Donald Trump. Efforts have intensified since President Joe Biden took office to strengthen defense collaboration with the Philippines. Recent reports indicate an evolving and permanent U. S. military presence in the country, characterized by joint exercises and ongoing training, reversing an earlier period after the U. S. left its military base at Subic Bay in 1992.

In a meeting between Philippine Armed Forces chief General Romeo Brawner and U. S. Indo-Pacific Command head Admiral Samuel Paparo, the two sides agreed to more than 500 joint engagements for 2026, covering various military activities. U. S. Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth highlighted a focus on enhancing capabilities to counter Chinese aggression in the First Island Chain, noting that training activities with the Philippines are increasing in scale and duration.

The cooperation under President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. is vital for containing Chinese forces, especially in a potential conflict scenario. Marcos has stated that should war arise over Taiwan, the Philippines would be inevitably involved, while also emphasizing the desire to avoid conflict. The Philippine defense ministry expressed confidence in the commitments made by the Trump administration.

China’s recent military movements demonstrate the importance of the Bashi Channel for its Pacific strategies. The region has seen enhanced Chinese naval activity, including exercises near Japan, which highlight its ambitions. In response to Chinese “gray-zone” warfare aimed at the Philippines, which involves intimidation tactics against Philippine vessels, the military has reported unauthorized incursions by Chinese ships into Philippine waters. The defense ministry asserts that these actions challenge international law and reflect China’s desire to reshape the global order. China’s foreign ministry did not provide responses regarding these tactics.

War Jitters in Batanes

Communities near key military passages in the archipelago feel vulnerable due to preparations for conflict. In Batanes, residents, like Hubalde, rushed to buy essential supplies like rice, oil, sugar, and milk when military exercises began. The islands heavily depend on regular shipments from the mainland for food, fuel, and medical supplies.

Provincial Governor Ronald “Jun” Aguto Jr. said that the community has adapted to the military presence, which initially caused alarm and panic buying. Aguto is now focused on updating the provincial contingency plan to prepare for a potential influx of overseas Filipino workers (OFWs) from Taiwan during a conflict. There are around 200,000 Filipinos living in Taiwan. He mentioned that Batanes could be used as a launch pad for bringing these workers home, but the islands can support only 20,000 people, requiring a plan to transfer them to the mainland for better sustainability.

The military is developing a rescue plan, according to Commodore Edward Ike De Sagon, the retiring Philippine Navy commander for Northern Luzon. He emphasized that the military is preparing for various scenarios, including handling large numbers of returning workers and possible refugees from Taiwan. The Philippine military has noted Batanes’ strategic location as a potential logistical hub for evacuations and humanitarian responses.

Concerns about being caught in conflict have intensified, especially if China were to attack Taiwan, with fears that Batanes could be targeted. Past military exercises have indicated preparations for potential fighting in the region. Retired politician Florencio Abad urged Manila authorities to reassure the local population regarding plans for managing the impact of conflict, expressing fears about survival in such a scenario. He highlighted the lack of clear communication from the government about evacuating workers from Taiwan or plans for potential refugees. The Philippine defense ministry stated that it is working on contingency and repatriation plans but did not provide details.

Missiles ‘Designed to Close a Strait’

Locals are concerned about potential conflict as the U. S. and the Philippines conduct annual military drills named Balikatan, which includes the deployment of U. S. Marines and new missile systems. The U. S. brought the NMESIS ground-based anti-ship missile launcher to Batanes, capable of launching the Naval Strike Missile with a range over 300 kilometers. This missile can target hostile warships in the Bashi Channel, providing “sea denial capability,” which is crucial for controlling access to this strait.

In late May, more drills occurred with the NMESIS system moved secretly into position for simulated strikes while U. S. and Philippine marines practiced key area operations. Not long after the NMESIS was deployed, China’s aircraft carrier Shandong entered the Western Pacific through the Bashi Channel for military exercises, spotlighting the strategic importance of this maritime route. China also deployed its other carrier, the Liaoning, similarly entering from the Miyako Strait, as both aimed to enhance their naval capabilities. Japan’s military anticipates that in a conflict, it would prevent Chinese access through certain straits, making the Bashi Channel vital for China.

The Philippine military described China’s naval activities as part of aggressive and illegal regional tactics. Meanwhile, the U. S. Army deployed Typhon launchers in Luzon, armed with powerful anti-ship missiles, which can hit targets deep into China, even as Manila expressed a willingness for further deployments despite Chinese objections.

China condemned the U. S. and Philippines’ military exercises and deployment of offensive weapons as destabilizing. The Philippine military clarified that these missile systems are for training and deterrence, not aimed specifically at any country, and operational security prevents them from confirming the locations of such systems. The military maintained that the presence of these missiles during exercises was temporary and not intended to close any maritime routes like the Bashi Channel.

If China doesn’t like it, ‘we’re doing it right’

Senior Philippine defense officials believe that China’s negative reaction indicates it sees the new anti-ship missiles as a significant threat. Retired Admiral Ong noted that disapproval from China means the Philippines is on the right track. The Philippine military recently acquired BrahMos supersonic anti-ship missiles from India, intended to give ground forces the ability to strike Chinese vessels and land targets while staying hidden. This approach helps avoid the vulnerability of fixed military bases to Chinese attacks.

Joint military exercises with the U. S., Japan, and Australia are being conducted to prepare for potential blockades in key maritime routes in the Philippines, such as the Mindoro Strait and the Balabac Strait. The Marcos administration has also allowed the U. S. access to four new military sites in northern Luzon, expanding military cooperation.

U. S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio confirmed America’s defense commitments to the Philippines shortly after President Trump took office and exempted funds for Philippine security force modernization from an overseas aid freeze. Despite increased military activity, Batanes Governor Aguto believes China is unlikely to attack, as it would escalate into a larger conflict.

However, local residents, like store owner Marilyn Hubalde, are preparing for possible disruptions to their supply chains. They are considering the need to grow their own food should conflict arise, emphasizing the importance of self-sufficiency in uncertain times.

With information from Reuters

As the world’s pontificators and peacemakers gather over the coming months in their various forums—be those the UN General Assembly or the backrooms of Europe and the United States—to discuss the world’s worst conflict-driven humanitarian crisis, Sudan, they would do well to think hard about what they are really hoping to achieve. A quick peace, or an enduring settlement? 

To do that, they will need to peel away the almost cartoon-like representations that have come to dominate media imagery and international perceptions of what this conflict is about, and seek a better understanding of the historical tensions within the Sudanese state, and of the competing visions for how it should be governed—if it is not to be further divided.

A recent analysis by Daniel J Deng, published by the Konrad Adenauer Foundation, would be a useful place to start. Deng, an East Africa and South Sudan peace-building specialist, argues that the war is not merely a quest for military dominance but is, significantly, a “war of visions” over the future architecture of the Sudanese state.

Deng sees the Rapid Support forces, led by Mohammed Hamdan Dagalo (“Hemedti”), as a product of both the collapse of centralized governance and, potentially, as a catalyst for more inclusive, decentralized national reconstruction—the ‘New Sudan’. The Sudanese Armed Forces under General Abdel Fattah al-Burhan, is cast as the contemporary custodian of Sudan’s long-standing centralist, military-Islamic order.

That vision of a ’New Sudan’ was the life’s work of John Garang, rebel leader and, briefly before his death in a helicopter crash in 2005, first vice president of Sudan and president of the South Sudan Autonomous Region. Garang articulated a Sudan centred on pluralism, federalism, and inclusive governance, in which he “imagined a pluralistic, democratic Sudan anchored in inclusive governance, ethnic equality, and political secularism,” transcending both northern and southern regional chauvinism.

This vision was central to the Comprehensive Peace Agreement signed between North and South in 2005, but with Garang’s death, the Islamist-dominated Bashir regime in Khartoum let it drift, leading to South Sudan’s secession in 2011. And, it can be argued, Hemedti, whether by conviction or design, is the inheritor of that vision. Certainly in his rhetoric, he appears to have adopted its central tenets and made them central to the vision that lies behind his political coalition, Tasis, and the ‘government of peace and unity’ it has set up in Nyala.

After Omar al-Bashir fell in 2019, the RSF sought to transform its image from a militia rooted in state repression to “a political actor speaking on behalf of Sudan’s neglected peripheries.” Hemedti’s own rhetoric is purposefully populist and ‘Africanist,’ explicitly distancing the RSF from the legacy of Khartoum’s “Islamist deep state”. He has called for “an end to discrimination, equal citizenship, and the rights of all Sudanese, regardless of region or ethnicity.” And in April 2023, as tensions between himself and General Burhan were about to boil over into war, he said: “We want a Sudan that belongs to all Sudanese, not just a select group… a Sudan where every citizen, from Darfur to Kassala, is treated with dignity and equality.”

According to Deng, Hemedti frames himself as “a man of the people, not one of the elites who live in glass towers.” He refers to his roots in Darfur and deep-rural Sudan, and his life as a camel driver—a far cry from Sudan’s tradition of urban, Nile-side Islamist elite dominance. Moreover, the alliances he has forged with the Sudan People’s Liberation Movement-North (SPLM-N, particularly the al-Hilu faction) and the Justice and Equality Movement (JEM), suggest a leader who understands that Sudan’s future governance must of necessity be decentralised to reflect the aspirations of its diverse ethnicities. 

In contrast, Burhan and the SAF represent the “traditional centralist, military-Islamist dominated model of government”. After the 2021 coup which ousted civilian prime ministerAbdalla Hamdok, Burhan “sought to reintroduce Islamist figures into state structures, consolidating SAF’s traditional base and reactivating elements of the National Congress Party’s old guard.” In Deng’s view, this effort simply “reinforces a statist governance model misaligned with Sudan’s emerging decentralized realities” and represents a direct continuation of the old order, “domination by centre or clique”, instead of plural citizenship and regional equity.

And that’s pretty much where the Juba Peace Agreement of 2020 fell down: implementation was top-down and elite-centric: “The JPA institutionalized parallel sovereignties… Rather than demobilizing insurgents into a unified national force, the JPA institutionalized parallel sovereignties.” These were the same design flaws that led to the collapse, in South Sudan, of its own internal peace process in 2016. Both failures—that of South Sudan, and of Juba in Sudan and the subsequent coup, underline the perils of centralist bargains unmoored from grassroots legitimacy, writes Deng. “By replacing institutional pluralism with top-down military rule, the post-2019 transition drifted into warlord competition masked as governance.”

At no point does Deng attempt to downplay the RSF’s part in the conflict, but he makes clear that Sudan’s future depends on ‘moving beyond binary paradigms of unity versus secession’and reconstructing a governance model that is neither rigidly centralist nor hopelessly fragmented, but layered, decentralized, and rooted in local legitimacy—an outcome that, on the face of it, is more closely aligned with Hemedti’s public posture than Burhan’s. 

And here’s where the pontificators and peacemakers need to pay attention. There is no Nobel Prize-gaming quick fix. Peace in Sudan, and the viability of a future state, will depend on the old Islamist-centralist-elitist-militarist model giving way—through committed, sustained peace and institution building—to a new model of inclusion and distributed power, anchored in accountable, civilian-led, and grassroots-rooted governance. It’s either that or suffering Sudan goes back to Square One. 

The United Nations General Assembly’s 80th session was meant to be a sombre assessment of a world on fire. The Sustainable Development Goals are failing, wars rage on multiple continents and the planet itself is burning. Yet the most significant drama of the 80th session was not about any single crisis but a deeper, more fundamental schism that played out in the very language used within the hall. It seems that the UN is no longer a forum for managing a shared global order; it has become the arena where two irreconcilable visions of world order are fighting for supremacy.

On one side stands the traditional, albeit, weary mulitlateralist project. Its champions, exemplified by European leaders cautiously inching towards recognition of a Palestinian state, still operate on the premise that legitimacy is derived from international law and consensus. Theirs is a world of treaties, institutions and patient diplomacy. On the other side stands a resurgent sovereigntist assault, championed most vocally by President Donald Trump, who returned to the UN stage not to engage, but to dismantle. In a nearly hour-long speech Trump admonished the UN over what he views as its ineffectiveness, framing global cooperation not as a necessity, but as a folly. The 80th UNGA revealed that the transatlantic split is no longer a policy disagreement; it is a philosophical chasm over the soul of global governance.

The issue of Palestine serves as a perfect case study in this clash of legitimacies. The moves by a growing number of countries to recognize Palestine were calculated acts of multilateralism. They were an attempt to salvage the two-state solution, a cornerstone of UN resolutions for decades, by working within the established system. The recognition was a message: that statehood is not a prize to be won through force but a status conferred by the international community.

This logic is an anathema to the Trumpian worldview. From this perspective, such recognition is not diplomacy; it is a dangerous reward for adversaries. Trump framed it as a “reward for Hamas”, reducing a complex decades-long struggle for self-determination to a simplistic binary form of terrorism. The sovereigntist argument holds that these decisions are not the UN’s to make. Power, not consensus, is the ultimate arbiter. The conflict is no longer about land; it is about who gets to decide the rules of the game.

Nowhere is this divide more stark than on the existential threat of climate change. For the multilateralist project, the climate crisis is its ultimate validation. A warming planet is a problem that no single nation, no matter how powerful, can solve alone. It necessitates the very cooperation the UN was founded to foster.

Trump’s address systematically dismantled this premise. He pulled the rug out from under the entire premise by blasting climate change as “the greatest con job ever perpetuated on the world.” This is not merely a policy difference; it is a declaration that the central problem the UN is trying to solve is a fiction. If there is no global problem, there is no need for a global solution. The institution, in this view, becomes not just ineffective, but illegitimate.

The sovereigntist vision extends to a radical critique of domestic governance, further highlighting the divide. When Trump declared that some countries “are going to hell” over their immigration policies, he was doing more than critcizing a policy. He was asserting a model where nationa borders are absolute and the internal choices of sovereign nations, particularly those of his allies, are open for public condemnation if they deviate from his ideology. This creates a world not of mutual respect and non-interference, but of perpetual, transactional pressure.

The  consequence of this great unraveling is a world adrift. The UN was built on the fragile hope that great powers, despite their rivalries, would see a greater interest in maintaining a common system. That foundation is now cracked. We’re moving towards a multi-order world, where countries selectively engage with institutions, cherry-picking rules that suit them and ignoring those that don’t. The Global South watches this spectacle with a cynical detachment, caught between a multilateral system that has often failed them and a sovereigntist alternative that promises even greater volatility.

The 80th session offered no resolutions to this core conflict. Instead, it held up a mirror. The speeches, the sideline meetings, the starkly different vocabularies – all revealed an institution that can no longer paper over its divides. The question is no longer whether the UN can solve the world’s problems, but whether the world believes in the idea of the UN itself. As the great powers turn inward, the 80th General Assembly may be remembered not for what it achieved, but as the moment the post-war order finally conceded that it’s no longer governed by a shared vision, but by a deepening and potentially unbridgeable rift.

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Lord Palmerston’s maxim that “We have no eternal allies nor perpetual enemies. “Our interests are eternal and perpetual,” aptly describes the rapidly changing nature of India-China relations. Border strife has been the norm between the two nations for decades, shaping their strategic stances. However, October 2024 saw a minor thaw in relations, with New Delhi and Beijing coming to terms with a major agreement on patrolling protocols along the disputed LAC. This breakthrough led to a series of high-level diplomatic engagements in a carefully measured but pragmatic manner. More importantly, Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi and Chinese President Xi Jinping engaged in direct bilateral talks at the BRICS Summit in Kazan, which was followed by a defense ministers’ conversation during the ASEAN Defense Ministers’ Meeting in November. The momentum then carried over into December in the form of the revival of the India–China Special Representatives Meeting, one of the important strategic platforms that had been asleep for five years. Although these developments do not eliminate deeply ingrained strategic distrust, they demonstrate a realist convergence; both nations are putting national interests ahead of ideological or historical animosities, embracing engagement rather than isolation as a way to manage competition and maintain regional stability.

In August 2025, Mr. Wang Yi, China’s Foreign Affairs Minister, visited India after three years for the improvement of the relationship between the two nuclear and emerging regional states. During his stay in India, Wang Yi co-chaired the 24th round of the Special Representatives’ Dialogue on the Boundary Question between India and China with the National Security Advisor, Ajit Doval. He also had bilateral discussions with Minister of External Affairs S. Jaishankar and met Prime Minister Modi. His visit after the 2020 Galwan clashes between India and China primarily concentrated on bilateral issues like border stabilization, economic cooperation, and regional security.

Therefore, Mr. Wang Yi’s visit to India marks a recalibration of ties based on a healthy and stable India-China relationship that serves the long-term interests of both countries.Secondly, the visit preceded PM Modi’s trip to the Shanghai Cooperation Organization (SCO) summit in Tianjin, his first visit in seven years, thereby laying the groundwork for stronger bilateral engagements. Thirdly, the visit came at a crucial time, as both countries face pressure from shifting US trade orientations, resulting in a push for pragmatic recalibration of ties and a strategic embrace on both sides.

However, during the month of February 2025, the Indian government ordered the erasure of 119 Chinese applications from the Google Play Store and, by June, announced a five-year tariff on imports of Chinese industrial inputs, which read as putting up a false facade of resistance against Beijing. However, the most compelling contrast comes from the diplomatic posture of India; calling for normalization with China while acting tough on them quite literally sounded like shouting at a neighbor while still borrowing sugar from them. Abandonment by America becomes evident for Modi; therefore, his choice of dialogue with Beijing reinforces both strategic weakness and duplicitous diplomacy. After many years during which warnings on Chinese expansionism were issued, the border may remain tense, but New Delhi seems determined to maintain good relations with China. This very decision of shaking hands underscored India’s inability to match China on political, strategic, and economic fronts. Meanwhile, Wang Yi’s parallel visits to Pakistan and Afghanistan highlight Beijing’s much broader regional priorities, reminding New Delhi just how far it is from being at the very center of China’s diplomacy.

The SCO Summit in Beijing saw the attendance of Prime Minister Narendra Modi, who sought to mend ties between China and India after a period of tension; however, unresolved grievances cast serious doubts on the sustainability of this rapprochement. In the short term, ties may improve, since India has realized how great the necessity for cooperation with China has become in pushing its economic ambitions. This necessity to engage China more aggressively is driven especially in light of strained relations with the US under Trump’s steep tariffs. However, deep sensitivities on sovereignty and territorial integrity argue against any form of a sustainable relationship with China, beginning at the Sino-Indian border conflict and continuing through Arunachal Pradesh and Kashmir to China’s stance on Tibet. Mutual suspicion over regional engagements also exists, fueled by Beijing’s relations with Pakistan and New Delhi’s burgeoning naval cooperation in Asia. Contrasting language in the Modi–Xi meeting readouts, with India stressing a “multi-polar Asia” while China glossed over it, further reflects differing perspectives on the regional order. Through the stopover of Modi in Japan before going to Beijing and participation in the SCO Summit while skipping China’s Victory Day celebrations, it shows India’s cautious attempts to consolidate strategic autonomy, moving closer to both China and Russia while not disturbing the US or the West. If there is not any forward movement on the substantive disputes, the tensions will resurface in time, making any sustainable rapprochement between India and China again very unlikely, even if large-scale conflict does not seem to be a strong possibility.

In short, India and China may converge temporarily out of pragmatism, but without resolving core disputes, trust will remain elusive. New Delhi’s balancing act between Beijing, Washington, and Moscow highlights both its ambitions and vulnerabilities. Lasting peace requires more than symbolic summits—it demands substantive compromises on sovereignty, security, and regional influence. Until then, rapprochement will remain fragile, an uneasy truce rather than a genuine transformation.

The Middle East in 2025 is still a powder keg, a place where dreams of peace get chewed up by the gritty, messy reality of the region. Donald Trump is swinging big with his “peace through strength” slogan, doubling down on his love for Israel. His grand plan? Pump up Israel’s military muscle, hit Iran where it hurts, and get Arab nations to play nice with Israel. Sounds like a neat fix, right? But it’s slammed headfirst into a wall of troubles: the never-ending Palestinian crisis, the boiling rage of people across the region, and the flat-out refusal of countries like Saudi Arabia and Turkey to let Israel call the shots. Those recent strikes on Iran’s nuclear plants? They haven’t brought peace; they’ve just cranked up the odds of a full-blown disaster.

Where “Peace Through Strength” Comes From

               Trump’s whole Middle East game plan boils down to one idea: flex enough muscle, and diplomacy will follow. He’s got Israel pegged as the region’s anchor, betting that backing it to the hilt while smacking Iran’s nuclear sites will somehow calm the storm. That’s why he’s cheering on Israel’s fights against groups like Hezbollah and Hamas and pushing hard to spread the Abraham Accords. But here’s the kicker; this plan’s all about brute force, not sitting down to talk, and it’s turning a blind eye to the Middle East’s messy politics and deep-rooted feelings. Israel’s dependence on Uncle Sam’s cash and weapons just shows how wobbly this idea is from the start.

               This strategy, born from the alliance between America’s hard-right and Israel’s leadership, mistakenly believes military might can forge peace; a brutal approach that ignores the region’s history and heart. By dismissing the people’s realities and internal politics, the plan is inherently fragile. It hasn’t cooled tensions; it’s ignited them, proving you can’t bully your way to calm.

The Palestinian Challenge

               The biggest snag in Trump’s big vision is Palestine. The war in Gaza’s been a gut-punch to the region, breaking hearts and making it tough for Arab states, especially Saudi Arabia, to buddy up with Israel. Gulf leaders are under fire from their own people; they can’t just sign deals that leave Palestinians in the dust.              Without a real ceasefire and a promise to give Palestinians a state of their own, any talk of peace is just hot air. Netanyahu’s crew, egged on by hardliners, keeps betting on bombs over talks, digging everyone into a deeper hole. With no real plan for what’s next in Gaza, the region’s spiraling toward chaos and new waves of defiance.

               This war’s not just hurting Israel’s rep in the Middle East; it’s tanking it worldwide. Israel’s operations, with their heavy toll on civilians, have lit a fire under Arab anger and slashed global support for Israel. Even countries that got on board with the Abraham Accords are feeling the heat at home to back off. It’s plain as day: without tackling Palestine head-on, no peace plan’s got a shot. Leaning on military might hasn’t steadied the region; it’s kicked it into a tailspin.

               Big players like Saudi Arabia, Turkey, and Egypt aren’t about to roll over for Israel’s power grab. Saudi Arabia laid it out straight: no Palestinian state, no deal with Israel. Turkey, which used to be on decent terms with Israel, is now one of its loudest critics, thanks to Gaza and Israel’s chummy ties with Greece and Cyprus. Turkey’s bulking up its military and missiles, carving out its own path in the region. Egypt and other Arab states are also holding back, scared of the blowback if they jump on Israel’s bandwagon. This pushback screams one truth: you can’t force peace at gunpoint.

               Even Gulf states like the UAE and Bahrain, who signed onto the Abraham Accords, are getting jittery. They’re worried that sticking too close to Israel without progress on Palestine could spark trouble at home. Turkey’s stepping up in Syria and playing peacemaker, trying to cut Israel’s influence down to size. These rivalries show that banking on Israel to run the show doesn’t bring folks together; it splits them apart. Real peace? It’s still a distant dream.

Striking Out on Iran

Those recent hits on Iran’s nuclear sites, part of Trump’s go-hard-or-go-home strategy, didn’t land the way he hoped. Reports say only one of three targets got knocked out, and the others are set to fire back up soon. Iran’s digging in, moving its nuclear work to underground hideouts, proving bombs alone can’t stop them. Worse, these strikes have trashed any chance of Iran trusting talks, jacking up the risk of a bigger fight. Instead of breaking Iran’s spirit, this move’s just made it more stubborn.

               The plan’s fallout is chaotic. Fearing a collapsed Iran would mean disaster and refugees, Gulf states are balking at the U.S.-Israel warpath. They’re keeping ties with Tehran to avoid a bigger blowup, proving the region isn’t buying a “peace through strength” doctrine. By juggling relations with both sides, they’re pulling the rug out from under a strategy that puts Israel first and ignores the complex realities on the ground.

The Shaky Ground of the Abraham Accords

               The Abraham Accords, once Trump’s shiny trophy from his first term, are wobbling in 2025. They’ve warmed things up between Israel and some Gulf states, but good luck getting Saudi Arabia or Qatar to join without a fix for Palestine. Public fury over Gaza’s bloodshed has Arab leaders walking a tightrope; they can’t afford to get too cozy with Israel without paying a steep political price. This shakiness proves one thing: a plan that bets everything on Israel’s clout can’t pull the region together.

               Trying to grow the Accords has hit a brick wall too. Countries like Oman and Qatar, who were once open to chatting, are backing off, squeezed by their own people and the region’s vibe. It’s a loud wake-up call: without real movement on Palestine, the Accords won’t turn into some grand regional love-fest. They’re more like quick deals for cash and military perks, not the deep roots needed for lasting peace. It’s another strike against forcing things through.

Israel’s Lonely Road

               Israel’s moves, especially in Gaza, have left it standing alone on the world stage. Even old pals like the European Union are pulling back, though they’re not ready to throw punches. By scoffing at international law with a “rules are for losers” attitude, Israel and the U.S. have dented Israel’s cred as a regional heavyweight. This isolation, plus the crushing cost of war, is wearing down Israel’s staying power.

               This global cold shoulder’s also messing with Israel’s ties to big players like China and Russia, who are calling out U.S. and Israeli military stances while eyeing their own slice of the Middle East pie. This global rivalry, paired with fading support for Israel in world forums, has kneecapped its regional swagger. Without legitimacy at home or abroad, a plan built on firepower can’t deliver lasting peace. It’s a screaming case for real diplomacy and regional teamwork.

               Inside Israel, Netanyahu’s got a firestorm on his hands. Failing to lock in a full Gaza ceasefire or free all hostages has folks fed up, exposing deep cracks in the country. Israel’s die-hard belief that guns can bring peace doesn’t match the region’s reality. The war’s brutal cost, for Palestinians and Israelis alike, shows this road’s a dead end. Without a clear plan for Gaza’s future or a legit Palestinian setup, Israel’s just asking for more trouble and upheaval.

               These homegrown woes are tangled up with money and social struggles. Crazy-high war spending, shrinking foreign cash due to global isolation, and political knife-fights between hardliners and moderates are tying Netanyahu’s hands. This mess, plus pushback from the region and the world, shows that Israel running the show isn’t just a long shot; it’s a one-way ticket to more chaos.

               Trump’s big dream for Middle East peace, riding on Israel’s military might and a chokehold on Iran, has gone up in smoke because it ignored the real issues—Palestine above all. This muscle-over-talks approach hasn’t brought the region together; it’s lit a match under people’s anger and sparked pushback from local governments. Hitting Iran might’ve scored a few points for a minute, but it didn’t stop their nuclear plans; it just killed any hope of sitting down to talk. Countries like Saudi Arabia and Turkey, by saying no to Israel’s grip, have made it crystal clear: peace won’t happen without justice and respect for Palestinian rights. Israel’s growing loneliness, the wobbly Abraham Accords, and its own internal fights all shout that “peace through strength” has only churned up more trouble. A calm, steady Middle East needs real diplomacy, respect for people’s rights, and the guts to face the root of the fight, not just leaning on force and control.

The U.S.-China competition is intensifying in the Indo-Pacific, especially in the maritime domain, and it is increasing the risk of a dangerous miscalculation. Both countries are rapidly building up their navies, reinforcing their deterrence posture, and heading for riskier military encounters. Yet while the buildup of hard power is accelerating, crisis management mechanisms are left shockingly underdeveloped.

Such dynamics remind one of the most unfortunate security failures in modern history: the pre-WWI Anglo-German naval race. Similarly, at the time, rising powers clashed at sea, backed by nationalist ambitions and rigid alliance systems, while mechanisms for de-escalation and maritime communication were nonexistent. Eventually, a fragile security environment was formed, prone to escalation from small events into a global conflagration.

Today, the U.S. and China are taking a similar path. If the United States does not urgently invest in an institutionalized crisis management mechanism alongside its defense modernization, it could lead to a strategic trap that is “ready to fight but unprepared for de-escalation.”

Risk of Escalation: Today’s U.S. and China

Like Germany’s pre-1914 maritime expansion under the Kaiser’s rule, China is attempting to modify the regional order by its naval power. In 2023, China’s PLA Navy commissioned at least two Type 055 destroyers and multiple Type 052D and Type 054A frigates, totaling more than 20 major naval platforms (including submarines and amphibious ships). Simultaneously, sea trials of Fujian, China’s third aircraft carrier—the most technologically advanced naval vessel in the fleet—have begun. In addition, coupled with A2/AD capabilities such as anti-ship ballistic missiles, including DF-21D and DF-26, such a military buildup can be considered a clear intent to complicate U.S. Navy operations in the Taiwan Strait and in the South China Sea.

The U.S. response was strong and swift. Under the context of the Pacific Deterrence Initiative (PDI), Washington has invested more than 27 billion USD since FY 2022 in forward basing, pre-positioning of munitions, and enhancing maritime operational resilience in the Indo-Pacific. In addition, the U.S. Navy is continuously investing in Columbia-class ballistic missile submarines, Virginia-class fast-attack submarines, and unmanned platforms. Strategic clarity is increasingly shaped by operational deterrence, and a greater number of U.S. naval platforms are now being forward deployed in contested waters.

Yet, just like before WWI, investment in military hardware is ahead of investment in crisis management systems. The gap between military capability and the mechanisms to manage conflicts is increasing, and such misalignment was what led the European countries to disaster in 1914.

Historical Parallels: The Anglo-German Trap

The Anglo-German naval race that occurred from the 1890s to 1914 reminds us of the current situation in the Indo-Pacific. Due to its industrial confidence, nationalist ambition, and strategic anxiety, Germany challenged the UK’s naval supremacy. In response, the UK reinforced its maritime dominance, built the revolutionary HMS Dreadnought, and eventually triggered a vicious cycle of competitive arms racing.

Despite the growing perception of risk, naval arms control was unsuccessful. The construction freeze proposed by the UK was refused by Berlin, and diplomatic overtures, including the 1912 Haldane Mission, collapsed due to distrust, lack of transparency, and domestic political pressures.

Effective crisis management did not exist. Maritime incidents that occurred in the North Sea and the Mediterranean were not arbitrated while diplomacy was intermittent and reactive. When the two sides tried to slow down the arms race, strategic distrust was deeply embedded. The assassination of Archduke Ferdinand transmogrified into a world war not because of one party’s aggression but because there was no off-ramp. Similar vulnerabilities exist in the Taiwan Strait and the South China Sea.

The Crisis Management Gap

Although some formal structures (military hotlines) exist between the U.S. and China, such instruments turn out to be continuously ineffective during crisis situations. During the 2023 Chinese balloon incident, Beijing did not respond to the U.S.’s urgent request for a hotline call. After Speaker Nancy Pelosi’s Taiwan visit in 2022, China suspended the senior defense dialogue.

Meanwhile, risky close encounters are increasing. For example, in June 2023, a Chinese J-16 fighter intercepted a U.S. RC-135 reconnaissance aircraft in a dangerous manner. In the same month, a Chinese destroyer violated navigation safety norms by crossing directly in front of USS Chung-Hoon in the Taiwan Strait.

These incidents are not individual events but systemic ones. And such events are occurring while there are no reliable institutionalized communication protocols between the two sides, where both are under a constant alert status.

To correct this, it is advisable for Washington to create a Joint Crisis Management Cell within INDOPACOM. This center should include liaison officers from the U.S., Japan, and Australia and be empowered to rapidly activate de-escalation protocols when a high-risk maritime incident occurs, even if high-level political channels are stagnant. This crisis management cell should utilize pre-negotiated crisis response templates—similar to an air traffic controller managing near-miss procedures—and guarantee the clarity and continuity of communication.

At the same time, the U.S. should embark upon a U.S.-China maritime deconfliction agreement, modeled upon the U.S.-Soviet INCSEA accord of the Cold War era. That accord, negotiated in 1972, defined maritime encounter procedures and communication protocols, and it proved durable even during the height of the Cold War. The modern version of INCSEA does not necessitate trust but is a functional necessity when heavily armed parties are operating at close range.

Strategic Effectiveness, Rather Than Symbolic Hardware

In the early 20th century, the UK’s naval expansion was not necessarily strategically consistent. Occasionally prestige overwhelmed operational planning, and doctrine lagged behind technological innovation. The U.S. should avoid falling into a similar trap.

Modern U.S. Navy planning should emphasize systems that actually provide effectiveness in a contested environment. In that sense, unmanned systems, including the MQ-9B SeaGuardian, long-range munitions like LRASM, and resilient RC2 structures are necessities. Such capabilities could enable U.S. forces to function even under missile saturation and communication denial situations.

Logistical innovation is also crucial. Forward bases situated in Guam, the Philippines, and Northern Australia should be diversified and strengthened to serve as maritime resupply nodes and distributed logistics hubs.

In addition, all these elements should be coordinated across domains. The U.S. Navy, Marine Corps, Air Force, Army, and allies’ coordinated integrated capacity would be sine qua non for effectively projecting power and managing military escalation.

Alliance Management and Entanglement

Although entangled alliances did not trigger WWI, they did contribute to its rapid escalation. The risk lay not only in misjudgment but also in the absence of a common structure that could manage shocks within complexly interconnected treaty systems.

The U.S. faces a similar risk. While the U.S. is maintaining defense treaties with Japan, South Korea, the Philippines, Thailand, and Australia, it is deepening its alignment in the region with AUKUS and the Quad. But many of these arrangements lack joint crisis response protocols or clear role expectations concerning the Taiwan contingency or conflictual situations in the South China Sea.

To mitigate such inherent risk, Japan should proactively lead in creating a Strategic Escalation Forum by 2026. This forum would summon decision-makers of the U.S.’s key allies—Australia, India, and the ASEAN countries—and jointly plan crisis responses, define thresholds, and establish mechanisms that provide political signaling during escalation.

As for South Korea, it should clarify its stance of non-combat in a Taiwan contingency through declaratory policy. This would confirm that South Korea would not dispatch troops to the Taiwan Strait, yet it could include commitments of logistics support, cyber operations, and intelligence sharing. Such a stance would lessen Beijing’s misunderstanding and alleviate allies’ concerns while enabling Seoul to prevent itself from being entrapped by a high-intensity scenario.

At the same time, Washington should initiate scenario planning on how AUKUS and Quad partners could contribute to coordinated crisis management, not necessarily through combat roles but through measures including ISR, sanctions enforcement, and strategic signaling.

The Future Path: To Prevent Another 1914

U.S.-China naval competition will not disappear, at least in the foreseeable future. Yet Washington has a choice: it could escalate through inertia, or it could manage competition through strategy. It is important to construct more submarines and missiles, yet that alone is insufficient. The genuine risk lies in the absence of an institutionalized safety mechanism.

If Europe was engulfed in the 1914 war due to unmanaged arms races and rigid alliances, the Indo-Pacific could also face a similar fate. If leaders in Washington do not create a structure that could absorb shocks and prevent escalation, the Taiwan Strait, just like Sarajevo, could become a spark.

The historical lesson is to plan for great powers not to collide with one another, rather than leaving them to rush toward an inevitable collision.

Washington should act now—not after a collision, but before—by institutionalizing a de-escalation mechanism before the strategic environment becomes rigid. The window of opportunity for prevention is still open, but it is narrowing.

The 2025 Alaska meeting has served as a wake-up call, prompting Canada to undergo a strategic realignment in its foreign policy with a particular focus on strengthening ties with Europe and the Asia-Pacific region.

On Ukraine’s Independence Day, Canada’s Prime Minister did more than just visit Kyiv. His presence sent a message of genuine solidarity and signalled to the world that Canada may be ready to move beyond symbolic gestures into the space of real security commitments.

To address the question, why is Canada recalibrating its global posture?

It is crucial to recognize that Trump’s meeting with Zelensky at the White House served as a stark reminder of the conditional and fragile nature of American support.

If Ukraine, a nation actively resisting military aggression, can be subjected to strategic indifference, then there is little assurance that Canada will be immune to similar treatment. The shifting tenor in Washington, illustrated by former President Trump’s imposition of tariffs and his dismissive rhetoric regarding Canadian sovereignty, signals a deeper recalibration in U.S. foreign policy. For Ottawa, the message is clear: it can no longer rely on the stability of its relationship with Washington. This shift threatens all U.S. allies, including Canada and European countries that have relied on the U.S. security umbrella for decades.

Alongside his visit, Prime Minister Mark Carney expressed support for Ukraine’s call for long-term security guarantees as part of any future peace deal with Russia. That support includes the possibility of deploying Canadian troops to Ukraine. Prime Minister Mark Carney’s words carry the weight of his intent:

“In Canada’s judgment, it is not realistic that the only security guarantee could be the strength of the Ukrainian Armed Forces in the medium term,” Carney told reporters. “So that needs to be buttressed. It needs to be reinforced.”

The statement was not simply vague diplomatic language, but it has given a clear message to the hesitant European capitals, and NATO strategists in Brussels now have a concrete framework to build around. Berlin now has political cover to move forward, which has been cautious about postwar commitments. Paris, which has talked about troops but wavered on details, now has an ally willing to share the burden. London, navigating domestic pressure, has now been offered a lifeline.

For Moscow, the message is unambiguous: Western resolve will not be undermined by time and political maneuvering. Putin’s calculation has always been that Western resolve would crack, that domestic politics would eventually force Ukraine’s allies to abandon ship. But now the tables have turned, and a peacekeeping force backed by Canada, Britain, and France—with German support—isn’t a negotiating position Putin can simply outlast. It’s a permanent commitment he will be forced to reckon with.

“We are all working to ensure that the end of this war would mean the guarantee

of peace for Ukraine, so that neither war nor the threat of war is left for our

children to inherit,” Zelenskyy told a crowd of dignitaries.

He further added that he wants future security guarantees as part of a potential peace deal to be as close as possible to NATO’s Article 5, which considers an attack on one member state as an attack against all.

The Canadian prime minister, Mark Carney, and President Zelensky formalized a

$680 million drone co-production agreement, scheduled to commence imminently. Canada also joined the PURL initiative, a multilateral fund mechanism enhancing Ukraine’s access to advanced weaponry, coordinated by the U.S.

So far, Canada has pledged:

• $680 million for drone co-production.
• $500 million for the PURL initiative
• $680 million for drone co-production
• $320 million for armored vehicles and other resources
• Readiness to join a postwar peacekeeping force

His leadership hasn’t stopped there. As holder of the G7 presidency, Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney announced these measures during the 2025 G7 Summit held in Kananaskis, Alberta, Canada.

“We are working with international partners to strengthen security commitments to Ukraine. While hosting the G7 Summit, Prime Minister Mark Carney announced $2 billion in additional military assistance for Ukraine, as well as the disbursement of a

$2.3 billion loan. We continue to work with our Allies and partners to coordinate and bolster our support through the Ukraine Defence Contact Group, including F-16 pilot training under the Air Force Capability Coalition. Canada announced the disbursement of a $200-million contribution through the World Bank at the 2025 Ukraine Recovery Conference in Rome, Italy.

This marks a turning point, with Canada emerging as a key leader in NATO’s collective response, especially at a time when traditional allies have backed off or shown hesitation due to diplomatic pressures. The combination of military aid and

Economic reconstruction funding reflects a mature and comprehensive approach, underscoring Canada’s recognition that lasting peace depends on both strong defense and sustainable development. Moreover, Canada’s strategy aims to reduce reliance on U.S. markets without provoking retaliation—a delicate but necessary balancing act in today’s complex geopolitical landscape.

On August 24th, Carney changed the course. Had he not, Canada would still be making trips to Washington years from now, offering empty platitudes, clinging to diplomacy on thin ice, and watching its future partner in Europe be crushed by imperial aggression. Canada has realized it must help Europe, help Ukraine, and prove it can be counted on.

The arithmetic is brutal for Moscow. With over $20 billion already locked in for 2026 from just three nations, and Europe’s aid machinery now running independently of Washington’s whims, Putin faces a grim calculus. As Europe and Canada lead the charge, the West’s resolve hardens—and for Putin, the future looks increasingly untenable.

American warships edging closer to Venezuelan waters earlier this year barely made global headlines, overshadowed by louder crises in Ukraine and the South China Sea. Yet this quiet buildup is not accidental. It is part of Washington’s long pattern of targeting regimes that stand at the crossroads of energy and geopolitics. Venezuela, sitting atop the world’s largest proven oil reserves, remains an indispensable square on the global chessboard, despite years of economic decay. The question worth asking is: Why does the United States persist in exerting pressure on Venezuela, Iran, and Russia and even spar with rising oil consumers like India? The answer lies in a combination of old-fashioned energy security, the logic of sanctions, and a twenty-first-century version of tariff wars.

Energy, Empire, and the Logic of Control

From the early Cold War to the Gulf Wars, American power has been tethered to oil. Securing access to hydrocarbons was never about mere consumption; it was about leverage. Whoever controlled the flow of oil controlled the arteries of the global economy. Venezuela, like Iran and Russia, belongs to the category of states with energy abundance but frail political legitimacy in Washington’s eyes. These states could, in theory, undermine the U.S.-led order by weaponizing supply.

The Trump administration revived this logic with unusual bluntness. Sanctions on Venezuela’s PDVSA, Iran’s National Iranian Oil Company, and Russia’s energy giants were not simply punitive. They were instruments of economic siege, aimed at reducing rivals’ fiscal lifelines while simultaneously making American shale oil more competitive on the global market. The “tariff war” with China, and by extension India, fit the same pattern: weaken alternative energy partnerships and redirect trade flows toward U.S.-friendly networks.

Venezuela: A Pawn or a Prize?

Venezuela is not merely an oil state; it is a symbolic battleground. For Washington, Nicolás Maduro’s survival is a reminder that authoritarian regimes can withstand Western pressure when shielded by Moscow and Beijing. For Russia and China, supporting Caracas is inexpensive but symbolically priceless: it frustrates U.S. hegemony in its own hemisphere.

This symbolism has recently translated into direct diplomatic gestures. When Washington deployed warships off Venezuela’s coast, Beijing condemned the action as a violation of sovereignty and publicly reaffirmed its support for President Maduro. India, in contrast, has been more circumspect: while historically engaged with Venezuelan crude, New Delhi stepped back from oil imports earlier this year under U.S. tariff threats, signaling its preference for strategic neutrality. These divergent responses underscore how Venezuela has become a stage where multipolar fault lines are performed in real time.

The irony is that Venezuela’s oil industry today is a ghost of its former self. Decades of mismanagement and sanctions have collapsed production to levels unthinkable in the 1990s. And yet, the reserves beneath Venezuelan soil still represent untapped potential insurance against a future where Middle Eastern supply chains might be disrupted. U.S. naval maneuvers around Venezuela send a dual message: to Caracas, that Washington retains coercive power; to global markets, that American dominance in the Western Hemisphere is not up for negotiation.

Tariffs, Sanctions, and the Shifting Global Economy

Sanctions and tariffs are often portrayed as separate instruments, but in practice they converge. By sanctioning Venezuela, Iran, and Russia, Washington narrows the playing field for global oil suppliers. By imposing tariffs on India and China, it simultaneously curbs the bargaining power of large consumers. The effect is to reinforce the role of the United States as both an energy producer (through shale) and a gatekeeper of energy commerce (through financial sanctions and naval dominance).

This strategy, however, comes with risks. Sanctions have accelerated experiments in de-dollarization, as Russia and China expand oil trade in rubles and yuan. India, caught between cheap Russian crude and American pressure, finds itself hedging. Venezuela, despite its pariah status, has quietly courted Asian markets with barter-style deals. In short, the very pressure that once guaranteed U.S. leverage is now incubating alternatives.

History’s Echoes

To understand today’s maneuvers, one must recall history. Washington’s approach to oil-rich adversaries is not new; it is a recycled script. The 1953 coup in Iran, the sanctions on Saddam Hussein’s Iraq in the 1990s, and even the naval blockades against Cuba: each reflects a doctrine that energy and ideology cannot be separated.

Yet, history also reminds us that such strategies rarely yield clean victories. Sanctions tend to harden regimes rather than topple them. Tariffs often spark retaliation rather than capitulation. Recent analyses have underscored this dynamic: for instance, an Investopedia study notes that overuse of dollar-based sanctions has accelerated global de-dollarization, with the dollar’s share of global reserves dropping below 47%—as nations increasingly shift into gold, yuan, and local currencies. Venezuela under Maduro looks less like a state on the verge of collapse than a state perpetually enduring collapse, too weak to recover, too stubborn to die.

Theoretical Lens: Realism with a Neoliberal Mask

International relations theory offers a useful lens. Realists would argue that Washington is simply acting in line with its structural interests: preventing rival powers from weaponizing energy. But a neoliberal reading highlights how this coercion is cloaked in the rhetoric of democracy, human rights, and market freedom. Sanctions are framed as moral instruments, when in reality they are economic tools of statecraft. Tariffs are justified as corrections for “unfair trade,” though their deeper function is to secure strategic dominance.

The United States, in effect, performs a balancing act: dressing realist power politics in neoliberal language. Venezuela becomes not just a state to be disciplined but a case study in how the American order sustains itself through economic pressure rather than outright invasion.

Conclusion: A Risky Bet

The naval encirclement of Venezuela may not escalate into open conflict, but it signals a broader pattern: Washington is unwilling to let go of energy geopolitics as the anchor of its global primacy. By targeting Venezuela, Iran, and Russia, and by sparring with India and China over tariffs, the U.S. reasserts its role as the central broker of oil and trade.

The gamble, however, is whether this strategy is sustainable in a world edging toward multipolarity. Sanctions fatigue is growing; tariff wars strain alliances; and new financial infrastructures are slowly eroding the dollar’s monopoly. History teaches us that great powers can overextend. The United States risks learning that lesson the hard way, with Venezuela serving less as a pawn to be cornered and more as a mirror reflecting the limits of American power.

A first-person view (FPV) type quadcopter drone controlled via a fiber optic cable was among the participants in a U.S. Navy-led exercise earlier this year focused on exploring new distributed electronic warfare capabilities. Fiber optic kamikaze FPVs, which Russia first began using in Ukraine last year and have now become a fixture on both sides of that conflict, are notably immune to jamming and many other forms of electronic warfare.

The Michigan National Guard released pictures yesterday of the fiber optic FPV and other uncrewed systems that took part in Exercise Silent Swarm 25. The event itself took place back in July at the Alpena Combat Readiness Training Center (CRTC) in Alpena, Michigan. The Navy’s Naval Surface Warfare Center, Crane Division (NSWC Crane) has been holding Silent Swarm events annually at the Alpena CRTC in cooperation with the Michigan National Guard and other elements of the U.S. military since 2022.

“During the series of technology experiments, private companies, academic institutions, and military organizations used swarms of unmanned systems to ‘attack’ and ‘defend’ locations in Thunder Bay, off the coast of Alpena in Lake Huron,” according to a press release on the exercise the Michigan National Guard put out today. “As the two forces conducted their operations, all parties collected data on which technologies offered the greatest advantages.”

“The hypothesis for Silent Swarm is to identify those systems that can outmatch and have an impact in the most challenging environments,” Rob Gamberg, project lead for Silent Swarm at Naval Surface Warfare Center, Crane Division (NSWC Crane), also said in a statement. “We are learning from each other with every iteration, which is exactly what we hope to see.”

“Silent Swarm is a series of events focused on experimentation with early development Electromagnetic Spectrum Operations (EMSO) capabilities that can be employed on attritable, multi-domain Unmanned Systems (UxS),” NSWC Crane also said in call for participants in Silent Swarm 25 that it put out last year. “The Silent Swarm series provides a challenging and flexible experimentation environment to enable rapid development of emerging technology. Selected participants will be able to further develop their technologies while operating in an operationally relevant sandbox environment alongside subject matter experts (SMEs) from joint operational and technical communities.”

How many total fiber optic FPVs took part in Silent Swarm 25, and whether they were used as ‘attackers’ or ‘defenders,’ or both, is unclear. However, their inclusion in the exercise at all makes good sense. As noted, Russia first began using FPVs with this kind of control method last year, primarily in response to growing electronic warfare threats.

Fiber optic control offers additional benefits, including a more reliable, secure, and higher-speed link with lower latency (key for FPV operation) that is also immune to cyber intrusion. The hard link helps mitigate the effects of terrain that can interfere with radio control, something that is also a factor for operating drones inside buildings. Fiber optic drones also do not pump out radio frequency emissions that passive sensors can detect, making them harder to spot. The control scheme is not without its own disadvantages, including the potential for the cable to become tangled on or severed by various obstacles. The drones are also not invulnerable, including to laser and microwave directed energy weapons.

Still, Ukrainian forces followed suit in adopting fiber optic FPVs for the same general reasons. Fiber optic cables have also since emerged as a means to control small uncrewed ground vehicles.

“The idea is great, because you are operating in total radio silence, so you cannot be detected by any radar system [passive sensors]. And any electronic warfare means that later on, they are just inefficient,” the commander of the 12th Special Forces Brigade Azov of the Ukrainian National Guard’s Unmanned Systems Battalion, who uses the call sign Yas, told TWZ in an interview in May. “At the same time, the use of fiber optic cables, as with any FPV drone, has its own peculiarities of operation, and if the pilot is not skilled enough, that is going to lead to significant losses in such equipment and systems.”

“I would like to say that at the moment, Russian electronic warfare is undoubtedly one of the leading in the world,” he added. “So I do not want to underestimate the enemy. We need to accept, to acknowledge, the level of the enemy.”

The use of fiber optic FPV in Ukraine has become so commonplace that videos have begun to emerge showing dense, tangled webs of leftover cables littered on the ground.

There are also signs now that fiber optic FPVs may be starting to proliferate outside of Ukraine.

Wow, for the first time, fiber-optic drones have been spotted in use by the Azawad Liberation Front (FLA) in Mali, who are fighting against both the Malian Armed Forces and Russia’s Africa Corps/Wagner Group. The drones and training were likely provided by Ukraine, with previous… pic.twitter.com/OxemaEbWwO

— OSINTdefender (@sentdefender) July 28, 2025

All of this makes them a threat that the U.S. military could be increasingly likely to encounter in various hot spots around the world. It is also a capability that America’s armed forces could itself be interested in employing. Seeing how they perform in an exercise like Silent Swarm could, in turn, be beneficial when it comes to exploring potential countermeasures, including different means of both detecting and defeating them, as well as gaining additional insights into the benefits they could offer in friendly hands.

“We are so far behind,” U.S. Army Lt. Gen. Joseph Ryan, the service’s deputy chief of staff for operations, plans, and training, said in March about the U.S. military’s response to the impact fiber optic drones are already having. Ryan’s comments came during a panel discussion at an Association of the U.S. Army (AUSA) conference.

At the same time, “any Soldier paying attention to technological advances in warfare in Ukraine over the past three years undoubtedly notices a cat and mouse game of drone versus counter-drone scenarios being played out on the battlefield,” an unclassified paper on fiber optic drones that the Center for Army Lessons Learned (CALL) published in July, which also highlights Ryan’s comments, notes. “As one side develops a new drone capability giving it tactical advantage for a short period of time, inevitably the other side develops a counter technology to offset that advantage.”

All of this underscores the value of including fiber optic drones in an exercise like Silent Swarm.

“To build an agile, lethal and ready warfighter, we must continuously experiment with and adapt the best technologies the market has to offer,” Army Maj. Gen. Paul D. Rogers, adjutant general and director of the Michigan Department of Military and Veterans Affairs, also said in a statement about Silent Swarm 25. “Events like Silent Swarm are critical for accelerating innovation, allowing the Joint Force to test, train with, and rapidly integrate emerging capabilities to stay ahead of evolving threats and maintain our strategic edge.”

It is worth noting here that Ryan’s comment back in March reflects broader criticism of how the U.S. military had continued to lag behind in the actual fielding of new uncrewed capabilities, in general, especially to smaller units. When it comes to drones, as well as counter-drone systems, America’s armed forces have long seemed mired in endless experimentation and demonstrations. In July, the Pentagon moved to try to finally break those cycles for good with a swath of major policy changes as part of a “Unleashing U.S. Military Drone Dominance” initiative, which you can read more about here.

“Drones are the biggest battlefield innovation in a generation, accounting for most of this year’s casualties in Ukraine. Our adversaries collectively produce millions of cheap drones each year,” Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth wrote in a memo kicking off the initiative. “While global military drone production skyrocketed over the last three years, the previous administration deployed red tape. U.S. units are not outfitted with the lethal small drones the modern battlefield requires.”

“Drone technology is advancing so rapidly, our major risk is risk-avoidance,” that memo added. “The Department’s bureaucratic gloves are coming off.”

Silent Swarm separately remains an important part of broader efforts to develop and field new heavily networked electronic warfare capabilities, an area where the U.S. Navy has been making significant investments for years now. Years ago, the Navy outlined a vision for an advanced, multi-faceted, cooperative, and distributed electronic warfare ecosystem as part of an effort once referred to as Netted Emulation of Multi-Element Signature against Integrated Sensors, or NEMSIS, which TWZ was the first to report on. Drones, as well as drone-like decoys, are still seen as key elements of that overarching plan.

Overall, given their growing prominence, fiber optic drones are likely to become a feature in more U.S. military exercises going forward, both as threats and potential friendly assets.

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In a span of a week, global politics had gotten some big headlines. Last Friday, Putin and Trump met in Alaska. The anticipated summit was the talk of the world for quite a while. Speculations to determination, the summit was an icebreaking summit for US and Russian relations. Especially the way President Donald Trump was dealing with Putin with threats and showing a little turn towards a hard line against Putin; however, that hard line again turned into “Brozone” in a three-hour meeting. Initially, it was meant to happen for seven hours. The meeting happened to end the war in Ukraine. After the meeting, nevertheless, there was no peace deal and no commitment. Trump deliberately passed the ball into Ukraine and Europe’s court.

Fast forward to Monday, Ukrainian president Volodymyr Zelensky, with his European counterparts, arrived at the White House. Five European leaders and the secretary general of NATO, along with European Commission leaders, were the participants in this summit. What was the result this time? Well, unlike the last time, when Trump hosted Zelensky in the White House back in February, this time, Zelensky wasn’t bashed for any reason. The meeting was held with all the big names without any disruption, and European leaders knew just the weapon to use against Trump to keep Trump on their side: the art of diplomacy through “flattery.” Still, there was no peace deal or anything. The European leaders thought this time they might sway Trump to go harsh against Putin, which ultimately failed.

Trump, from the very beginning, was determined about some parts in the deal. Ukraine won’t be taken into NATO, and Ukraine must forget about Crimea, which he sees as a fault of the Obama administration. Steve Witkoff, Trump’s appointed special envoy in the Middle East, who basically arrives in every conflicting part of the world as a peace-bringer as Trump’s ambassador, mentioned a part that’s now a cornerstone of the security agenda. Witkoff mentioned “something like NATO’s Article 5.” NATO Article 5 states that an armed attack against one member is considered an attack against all members, obligating each ally to take necessary action, including armed force, to assist the attacked party and restore security. It’s a profound part of NATO and what makes this military alliance different from every other alliance that’s out there. In the Alaska summit, Putin has agreed on some kind of “robust security arrangements” to secure the peace deal. So basically, Ukraine might secure its security by not joining NATO; however, there’s a catch. When Witkoff said something like “Article 5,” does it necessarily mean they are going to implement Article 5?

Here the debate comes. Something like Article 5 and implementing Article 5 don’t mean the same thing. And Witkoff wants European contribution to this security to play a bigger role. As Trump mostly follows a “unilateralist policy,” he doesn’t want to be the firsthand guarantor in the security arrangements. Whereas, the European leaders want to see Donald Trump playing a bigger role in this context. The EU already took a big initiative to spend on a military budget higher than ever, reaching 5% of the whole budget for every country before 2031. Back in March, the EU proposed “Sky Shield” for Ukraine. The European Sky Shield for Ukraine is a proposed European-led air protection strategy designed to defend western and central Ukraine from Russian missile and drone attacks during the Russian invasion of Ukraine. “Sky Shield” aims to protect critical infrastructure, including Ukraine’s operational nuclear power plants, major cities like Kyiv, Lviv, and Odessa, and vital economic corridors. The plan would not include operations in the eastern parts of Ukraine; however, it hasn’t materialized yet.

Trump saw the Russia-Ukraine war as Biden’s war, which he never wanted to drag on in the first place. Before being elected, he boasted about ending the war in Ukraine. Though, he couldn’t stop the war after seven months. This is quite a stigma on his “Peacemaker” appearance. Trump was seen to have fallen out with Putin, even tariffing a major ally, India, for buying Russian crude oil. From almost falling out, the Alaska summit again showed Trump’s humility with Vladimir Putin.

European leaders couldn’t budge Trump from his unwillingness to get involved in the Russia and Ukraine war. There was a motion to send a peacekeeping force to Ukraine from the UK and France. But they couldn’t find their other allies beside them. Germany, Italy, and even Poland rejected the idea of sending their troops to Ukraine, not even as peacekeepers. The US isn’t backing up Ukraine with military and financial aid, likewise the Biden era. Europe has already surpassed the US’s financial aid to Ukraine and is soon going to surpass it in the military sector. In any of the scenarios, there is no sign of a security deal or any comprehensive peace treaty between Russia and Ukraine. And every week, Russia is taking up more land in the Donbass region. It already occupies 20% of the land in Ukraine, and there is no sign that they want to give the land back to Ukraine. Experts are rigid in the idea that Putin won’t give the lands back it occupied. Neither will Ukraine accept a Russian-compelling peace treaty. So the stalemate is firm.

Trump has announced there will be a trilateral summit with the Ukrainian president and Russian president. As the security guarantee fades away and the Russian army occupies more lands every week, the war looks far away from ending. A treaty like the 1994 “Budapest Memorandum” won’t be accepted by the Ukrainian side; likewise, the Minsk agreement won’t be accepted by Ukraine and the EU. The demand is something solid and binding. Some are talking about a “Reassurance Force” that will secure Ukraine and Europe too, or an “Ironclad” agreement like the US-Japan and the US-South Korea security mechanisms. Till the next summit, the world awaits to see a peace deal being activated at the border of Europe.

In 2012, when President Xi Jinping first coined the term “Chinese Dream”, it was seen as a patriotic call for national revival, a promise was made to restore China’s lost historical pride after a century of humiliation. The narrative of this analogy was powerful and emotionally resonant. Domestically, it stirred unity, strength and pride. Internationally, it was framed as a peaceful vision of shared prosperity in the foreseeable future..

Surprisingly, a decade later, the Chinese Dream has transformed into something far more tangled and complex, and very contradictory. Although Beijing continues to  promote the notion of Chinese Dream as an amiable blueprint for progress and development, nevertheless it also projects a growing assertive foreign policy that raises questions about the true intent of the Dream i-e: Is China’s vision one of joint development, or does it cloak a strategic push for dominance?

China’s ambitions regarding the tensions between peaceful rise and nationalistic assertion are now the heart of global unease. This analogy of Chinese dream might have still inspired many Chinese, but for the world outside China, it is beginning to look more like a dilemma. Moreover these contradictions are no longer just theoretical they are unfolding in real time. For instance, China’s increased military activity off late (2025) near Taiwan and its expanding assertiveness in the South China Sea have clanked the Indo-Pacific. Fears of confrontation are ignited by naval incursions, coast guard problems and air defense drills, while the Philippines and Japan are seeking broadened security ties with the US. Meanwhile, the China–US rivalry ended up intensifying on new fronts, especially in AI, quantum computing, and semiconductor supply chains, signaling that technological dominance has become a new battle ground for China to pursue its strategic vision of rejuvenation, whether it’s the recent American export limitations on advanced chips or Beijing’s retaliatory curtailment on rare earth elements.

In order to completely comprehend the Chinese Dream and its motives, one must trace back to its historical roots. The “century of humiliation” that is identified by colonial invasions, unjust ententes, and foreign assertiveness left a deep imprint on China’s collective consciousness. Communist Party of China (CPC) has marked itself as the soldier that would restore China’s once lost dignity since 1949. But under President Xi, this narrative has been positioned as a  national mission for a longer time: rejuvenation/ rebirth.

However, rejuvenation in this context isn’t just about China’s lost pride and economic growth but it’s more about being on top of the global hierarchy because it’s China’s right to be a global leader. This dream was initially confined to national revival but now it’s propagating beyond its traditional spheres, and this new dimension of this Dream has profound implications for foreign policy. China’s claim of a “Near Arctic State”, it’s leadership role in AIIB and BRICS, investment in Latin America and Africa lately sheds light on it’s global ambitions and the deliberate effort to shape global governance structures and asserting influence internationally. 

The question that arises here is that, whether this Dream actually aligns with global peace as claimed by China or not. Xi has consistently emphasized on “win-win cooperation,” for  a shared and cooperating future of the world system. Global endeavors like the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) are marked as tools for connectivity, collective progress and development.

Yet behind the literal meaning of this language lies a more complex and calculated strategy. For instance, the BRI has been lagging due to the constant criticism for opaque deals and debt traps etc. This criticism has deeply sharpened recently. In 2024–25, certain countries like Kenya, Malaysia, and Italy either rearranged or withdrawn from the BRI projects, due to obscurity and debt sustainability. There’s a growing discomfort regarding China’s approach to infrastructure diplomacy globally. China’s increasing propagation towards different continents often brings not only infrastructure but also an expanding political influence and economic dependence.

Another worrying aspect of this increasing global dominion by China is it’s actions in the South China Sea, and it’s policies towards ethnic minorities and the brutality in Uyghurs, and the way China has been handling dissent at home is contrary to the harmonious image it seeks to  project in the international arena. The questions is, Is the Chinese Dream of national revival merely a soft power element layered over hard power objectives? Most know the answer.

Neo-realism makes this trajectory of China’s foreign policy seem less ambiguous. It’s the same old tale of survival and power maximization in an anarchic global system.In this sense, the Chinese dream is a strategic doctrine disguised in cultural rhetoric. 

China’s military advancement, tech capabilities, aggressive border posturing and parallel global organizations I-e: AIIB all reflects a far more significant goal: reshaping the global BOP in China’s favor, which is not illegitimate as that’s how all the great powers operate in the international system to gain influence, however, it does challenges China’s notion of a peaceful actor. 

Here the dream becomes a dual use instrument, internationally it justifies China’s strategic expansion and domestically consolidates legitimacy for the CPC.  For instance, the on going AI and semi conductor war with the US, along with the naval brinkmanship near Taiwan sheds light on China enforcing it’s Dream through deterrence rather than diplomacy.

There’s another contradiction i-e: reconciling nationalism at home and claims of cooperation and development abroad. To explain this further, the Dream is a reassembling cry for unity, historical justice and strength. President Xi has positioned himself as the defender of this vision, and in order to do so, has tapped into springing up nationalist sentiments. And any discerned compromise with the international powers would be seen as a weakness- by the Chinese. Nevertheless, China is chanting the melodies of multilateralism and peace, by speaking the language of diplomacy while practicing coercion. This duality of the Chinese dreams inspires citizens at home but at the same time alarms foreign policy makers. Hence the widening credibility gap.

China’s Dream has often been met with caution and skepticism in the international arena. US has openly called this Dream a “strategic competition”. Moreover, EU has always been open to engagement and partnerships but now empathizes “de-risking”, while India, Japan, ASEAN countries and Australia are strengthening their ties and diversifying their supply chains.  Even, from Pakistan, the so called iron brother of China, resistance has risen. The 2025 protests in Baluchistan specially Gwadar over economic segregation and security risks has challenged the entire motto of CPEC as a mutual win. 

Africa and Central Asia has shown growing concerns as well regarding the consequences of long term dependency on Beijing beside the fact that these states are China’s traditional partners. China so far has stood its ground and retained influence through development and diplomacy but its assertive posture is, in the meantime eroding the trust genuine leaderships requires.