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In the world’s most fragile states, war is no longer merely a political tragedy, it is an economic opportunity for those positioned to profit. From the mountains of northern Myanmar to the gold fields of Sudan, a common pattern has emerged: when governance collapses, external powers rush in to secure the minerals, metals, and strategic commodities that the global economy demands. These regions become places where human suffering and environmental destruction become collateral for uninterrupted flows of resources. Two cases stand out in late 2025, Myanmar’s rare earth boom, fueled by Chinese demand, and Sudan’s gold boom, powered by the United Arab Emirates, together reveal a disturbing truth about the global marketplace; world’s green and gold transitions are being built atop the ruins of countries trapped in conflict.

Myanmar: The Human Cost of a Resource Rush

In early 2025, a young man named Sian traveled deep into the mountains of Shan State, Myanmar, desperate for work in a country where the formal economy has collapsed and nearly half the population lives on less than two dollars a day. He was lured by rumors of wages unheard of in today’s Myanmar, $1,400 a month at new rare-earth mining sites run by Chinese companies in territory controlled by the United Wa State Army (UWSA), the most powerful of Myanmar’s ethnic armed groups. After hours riding a motorbike through dense forest, he arrived at a mine and was hired for a daily pay of about $21. His job was brutal: drilling boreholes and installing pipes for in-situ leaching, a method that involves pumping acidic solutions directly into mountainsides to dissolve and extract elements like dysprosium and terbium, metals that are vital for electric vehicles, wind turbines, advanced radar systems, and nearly every technology central to the green-energy revolution.

The process leaves behind poisoned rivers, contaminated soil, landslides, respiratory diseases, and entire villages unlivable. Researchers and civil society organizations have documented extensive damage: deforestation, chemically burned waterways, collapsed hillsides, and workers buried in mud after heavy rainfall liquefies the weakened terrain. “The toxic effects of rare-earth mining are devastating,” says political geographer Jasnea Sarma. “These communities endure the harm so that others may benefit.”

Yet the industry is thriving. China has cracked down on domestic rare-earth extraction due to environmental damage, but it has not reduced its demand. As a result, the extraction simply shifted across the border into Myanmar, where environmental regulations are weak, labor is cheap, and local armed groups, desperate for revenue, grant Chinese firms access in exchange for payments or profit-sharing.

Satellite imagery analyzed by Myanmar Witness and the Stimson Center shows hundreds of rare-earth mining sites exploding across Shan State, particularly in areas controlled by the UWSA and other China-aligned ethnic armies. Chinese customs data confirms the trend: between 2017 and 2024, roughly two-thirds of China’s rare-earth imports came from Myanmar. In effect, Myanmar has become the hidden engine of the world’s tech economy and its most toxic dumping ground.

For villagers, this boom is a slow-moving catastrophe. People report respiratory ailments, skin rashes from chemical exposure, and contaminated water sources. The deadliest risks are landslides triggered by aggressive deforestation and chemical injection into the hillsides. A 2024 study of rare-earth mining areas in Kachin State found extreme levels of ammonia, radioactive elements, and dissolved heavy metals in local waterways, conditions researchers describe as “entirely unsuitable for human consumption or agriculture.”

What makes Myanmar particularly vulnerable is not just poverty or geography, but political breakdown. Since the 2021 military coup shattered national governance, armed groups have expanded their autonomy, Chinese companies have expanded their presence, and Myanmar’s natural resources have been strip-mined with almost no oversight. In this vacuum, the global economy finds a steady supply of strategic minerals at the lowest possible cost, while local communities absorb the full environmental and human toll

How the UAE is Cashing In on Sudan’s War

If Myanmar reveals how civil wars feed the green-energy transition, Sudan reveals how they feed the financial one. Since April 2023, Sudan has been engulfed in a brutal war between the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) and the Rapid Support Forces (RSF). Amid mass displacement, ethnic cleansing in Darfur, widespread starvation, and one of the world’s worst humanitarian crises, another story has quietly unfolded: the UAE’s deepening role as the central hub for Sudan’s conflict gold.

Sudan is Africa’s third-largest gold producer, and gold has become the lifeblood of the RSF’s war machine. Investigations by the UN, Global Witness, and multiple governments show that the UAE has been the primary destination for Sudanese gold for years, even as the war intensified. Much of this gold is smuggled out of conflict zones in Darfur, Kordofan, and Blue Nile, which are areas where the RSF maintains control through massacres and forced displacement. Once the gold reaches Dubai, it is refined, laundered through opaque supply chains, and sold into global markets.

The UAE denies wrongdoing, but the pattern is unmistakable. Gold shipments spike when fighting escalates. The RSF’s ability to sustain operations depends heavily on gold revenues. And the UAE’s own global gold-trading infrastructure, built on lax regulations, low taxes, and discreet financial systems, makes it the ideal partner for armed groups seeking to convert looted resources into weapons and cash.

Sudan mirrors Myanmar in a darker way: where Myanmar supplies the materials for the world’s green future, Sudan supplies the materials for its financial present, stabilizing gold markets, supporting global luxury demand, and solidifying the UAE’s status as an international trading powerhouse. In both cases, the profits flow outward, while the devastation remains local.

Foreign Wars as a Business Model

The parallels between Myanmar and Sudan reveal a broader pattern of 21st-century extraction economics. War and political collapse weaken regulation, eliminate oversight, and create desperate labor pools. Armed groups become local gatekeepers, selling access to mines or smuggling routes. Foreign corporations and governments capitalize on the chaos to secure strategic resources cheaply.

In Myanmar, ethnic armed groups benefit from mining revenues while China secures rare earths vital for its technology sector. In Sudan, the RSF funds its military operations through gold smuggling while the UAE strengthens its global commodities market.

This model is not new. But the urgency of the green transition and the volatility of global commodity markets have made it more aggressive than ever. The world wants cheap inputs for clean energy, financial reserves, and technological superiority. Conflict zones deliver them, evidently at enormous human cost.

The Moral Cost of The Green and Gold Transitions

The stories of Sian in Shan State and the civilians trapped in Sudan’s war zones expose a deeper contradiction at the heart of global development. The world says it wants sustainable energy and ethical supply chains. Yet the materials needed for these transitions are often sourced from places where sustainability and ethics are impossible.

Myanmar, Sudan, Congo, Bolivia, and other resource-rich conflict states are the hidden foundation of modern life in first world countries. Their suffering directly creates the conveniences and technologies that wealthier countries take for granted.

Until the international community demands transparency, enforces sanctions on conflict-linked commodities, and insists that the green future not be contradictorily built on burned earth, Myanmar and Sudan will remain cautionary tales and examples of what happens when the world’s hunger for resources meets its willingness to ignore suffering.

US and China have long competed to become world powers, particularly in the technology sector. Since 2022, the US has systematically restricted the supply of high-performance NVIDIA chips to China. In today’s world, competition for power is no longer achieved through traditional means, such as military power. The US uses chips (semiconductors) as an instrument of political pressure. This policy is not just about economic or trade value, but has become part of technological statecraft designed to counter China’s military potential and its use of Artificial Intelligence (AI).

Semiconductors as a Provision of Power

The US policy of restricting high-end semiconductors to China shows a paradigm shift, chips (semiconductors) are not only industrial commodities, but have shifted to become a tool for achieving power. Export controls on high-performance chips and components that enable their production have been implemented by the Bureau of Industry and Security (BIS). These steps show that the US is restructuring the geopolitical arena of technology.

AI today relies heavily on chips that can process vast amounts of data. The US restricts the export of high-end chips, such as the NVIDIA H100 and A100. A country’s AI development capacity could be severely compromised without access to these chips. The H100 is more than just a technological component; it serves as a strategic enabler that determines a country’s ability to maintain military dominance.

NVIDIA and the Security Logic Behind Export Control

The Bureau of Industry and Security (BIS) on 2023 announcement expanded export oversight, not only targeting on specific chip models but also on component values, most notably in frontier algorithm development. The NVIDIA A100 and H100 are highly advanced datacenter and AI chips. The guidelines are particularly high for training complex AI models on supercomputers, even for military applications or demanding research.

To prevent misuse, the US government has implemented licensing requirements for chips like the A100 and H100 chips, which have put chips like the A300 and H800, made by NVIDIA, under increased scrutiny, despite being categorized as “weak service” chips. Export restrictions stem from concerns that NVIDIA GPUs could be used by China in training AI models related to the US military, not only to slow China’s technological progress but also to safeguard its own national interests.

The US understands very well that high-performance chips are “brain machines” that can accelerate the development of military superiority, intelligence analysis, and even autonomous systems. So it is very clear that limiting the capacity of computing and high-performance hardware is the way to go. To delay a rival’s capabilities without resorting to direct military confrontation. This is a concrete manifestation of the shift in the “battlefield” taking place in the technological and regulatory arenas.

Vulnerable Supply Chains and Dependence on Taiwan

In chip control, the US must recognize that there are undeniable realities. NVIDIA’s chip production goes through a fabrication process that is almost entirely carried out in Taiwan, a country that lies in the geopolitical conflict between Washington and Beijing. The Congressional Research Service (2024) shows that approximately 90% of global advanced semiconductor chip production is based in Taiwan, manufactured by the leading Taiwanese foundry, Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Company Ltd. (TSMC). This creates a structural dependency that poses serious risks to US economic and technological security.

If semiconductor production were concentrated in a single region, it would create vulnerabilities that could destabilize the global technological system. Therefore, any tensions in the Taiwan Strait would disrupt US access to the computing infrastructure it maintains. Export restrictions are just one step in a much more complex strategy, requiring the US to diversify production locations and ensure that the chip supply chain is not concentrated in a single region.

Effectiveness and Adaptation Room for China

NVIDIA’s chip restrictions were intended to curb the pace of AI modernization in China, but China was still able to optimize the model’s efficiency. This demonstrates that limiting hardware performance doesn’t always equate to limiting innovation. On the other hand, unofficial market entities have emerged, allowing NVIDIA GPUs to remain accessible through third parties. This adaptation demonstrates that hardware control has limitations, especially when demand remains high and global distribution networks are not always transparent.

Looking at its overall effectiveness, US policy has been effective in slowing China’s computing capabilities, but it hasn’t stopped its strategic potential. Instead, it’s encouraging China to be self-sufficient in strengthening its technological foundation, even though the quality of local chips hasn’t yet matched NVIDA’s standards. In other words, restricting NVIDIA’s chip exports isn’t meant to end competition, but rather to transform it into a race toward technological independence. The policy’s effectiveness will only last as long as China finds a way to adapt, while China is working to fill that gap.

Policy Directions with Greater Strategic Opportunities

The effectiveness of the compute policy is based on a governance architecture that holds every allied country accountable to the same standards. Without a disciplined framework, export controls on China are merely an illusion that is easily penetrated by gaps in different economic and regulatory interests. By creating strategic alignment, which forces every democratic country to reduce the fragmentation of interests, it can open up greater policy opportunities to emerge. Many developing countries see this semiconductor race as a competition for dominance, not as an effort to maintain security.

In other words, a successful computing policy is not one that simply limits China’s space, but one that manages technological gaps without creating competing computing blocs. The geopolitical challenge is maintaining superiority without forcing the world into two technological divides that would be difficult to control. The US strategy to secure a leading position in future technologies requires flexibility in responding to global dynamics.

A Future Determined by Computational Capacity

The debate over NVIDIA chips demonstrates the growing integration of political and technological power. US policy aims not only to restrain the flow of strategic goods but also to build a new computing-based power architecture. However, this policy also presents challenges, including dependence on Taiwan, China’s flexibility, and economic pressure on US chip companies.

In a global world that continues to move toward an AI-driven economy, the future will be determined by who can manage geopolitical risks, understand supply chain dynamics, and design visionary policies. Ultimately, GPU regulation is no longer simply a matter of export control; it demonstrates how countries navigate a power struggle now measured in microchips.

Because of Japanese Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi’s statements in the Diet regarding the Taiwan issue, the already fragile China–Japan relationship has deteriorated rapidly. China has issued travel and study-abroad warnings for Japan, effectively halted imports of Japanese seafood, sent coast guard vessels into the “territorial waters” of the disputed Senkaku/Diaoyu Islands, and had three warships transit the Osumi Strait in southern Japan.

At the same time, Beijing took the unusual step of announcing in advance that Premier Li Qiang would not meet the Japanese prime minister at the G20 summit. In just ten days, China launched a strong, multi-domain counterattack—political, diplomatic, economic, and military—with no signs of de-escalation.

If Prime Minister Takaichi does not retract her remarks, Beijing is likely to escalate even further and drag the United States into the dispute.

What actually happened? Is China overreacting? How far will Beijing take this confrontation?

Let us revisit the origin of the incident. In response to questioning in the Diet, Prime Minister Takaichi stated, “If China blockades Taiwan using warships and employing force, then no matter how you look at it, this could become a survival-threatening crisis for Japan.”

Pressed by the opposition, she added, “If China imposes a maritime blockade on Taiwan and U.S. forces intervening in that blockade come under armed attack, a crisis could arise.”

International media paid no attention to Takaichi’s clarification and focused only on the headline question: Will Japan send troops if military conflict breaks out in the Taiwan Strait? Accordingly, France’s Le Monde, Britain’s The Guardian, and the Associated Press all ran titles implying that Japan would dispatch forces if Taiwan were subjected to military action.

Japanese scholars have since written articles in U.S. media explaining that “Japanese military intervention in a Taiwan contingency” presupposes that U.S. forces have already intervened, and only then could Japan exercise the right of collective self-defense. Yet the Japanese government has not actively clarified this prerequisite on the international stage, drawing sharp criticism from well-known Japanese commentator Hiroyuki Nishimura for dereliction of duty.

Nishimura’s criticism exposes a widespread misunderstanding: even if the United States militarily intervenes in the Taiwan Strait, as long as Japanese territory is not under armed threat, Tokyo is legally barred from exercising collective self-defense. In other words, under the U.S.–Japan Security Treaty, the United States is obligated to defend Japan, but Japan has no treaty obligation to send troops to support U.S. forces in a war that does not concern Japan.

Therefore, the mitigating explanations offered by Japanese scholars on Takaichi’s behalf do not hold water. The Japanese government’s failure to clarify the issue in international media is naturally out of fear of offending Washington. It remains unclear whether President Trump fully understands the “asymmetric” nature of the U.S.–Japan Security Treaty, and Tokyo has no desire to remind this shrewd deal-making president that when American soldiers are dying on the battlefield, Japan actually has no treaty obligation to send troops.

Unless, of course, the reason for U.S. intervention in the Taiwan Strait is explicitly “to protect Japan.” Political rhetoric is one thing; the law is another. The fact remains that neither the U.S.–Japan Security Treaty nor Japan’s domestic legislation imposes any legal obligation on Japan to exercise collective self-defense when its ally, the United States, comes under attack.

Another fact: the Philippines is in exactly the same position as Japan. Unless U.S. forces become involved in order to protect the Philippines or Philippine territory is affected by the war, Manila has no obligation to send combat troops to assist the U.S.—it can only provide logistical and base support.

Of course, if the United States does intervene militarily in the Taiwan Strait, it will inevitably claim it is to protect Japan (and the Philippines). But the authority to make that determination lies with Tokyo and Manila, both of which retain a certain right to stay out of the fight. This is precisely why U.S. Deputy Secretary of Defense Elbridge Colby earlier this year demanded that Japan and Australia state clearly what actions they would take to support the United States in the event of a Taiwan contingency. That demand makes it crystal clear that America’s mutual defense treaties do not obligate allies to unconditionally fight alongside U.S. forces.

In short: when their own security is at stake, allies will send troops; otherwise, they will at most offer logistics and bases—no allied soldiers will go to the front lines.

This explains Beijing’s fierce reaction. Even if Takaichi did not mean Japan would intervene unilaterally in the Taiwan Strait, her remarks effectively expanded the “applicability scenarios” of the U.S.–Japan Security Treaty. If such moves are not checked, they will only encourage the Philippines, Australia, and other anti-China neighbors to follow suit—using the same logic to blackmail or bleed China.

This is not an overreaction, nor is it making a mountain out of a molehill. Beyond realpolitik necessity, the Chinese people have not forgotten Japan’s history of invading China—especially in this 80th anniversary year of the victory in the War of Resistance Against Japanese Aggression. If Beijing were to let the matter slide, it would face intense domestic backlash.

Therefore, unless Takaichi retracts her remarks, China–Japan relations will continue to worsen, eventually leading to a situation where “Taiwan is fine, but Japan is in crisis.”

Takaichi may well have intentionally provoked Beijing in order to shore up LDP support, rally Japanese nationalism, loosen the “three non-nuclear principles,” and expand conventional military capabilities. But the backlash has likely been far greater than she anticipated. The key still lies in America’s attitude.

Although the U.S. ambassador to Japan publicly expressed support for Tokyo and criticized Beijing, Washington’s overall response has been relatively muted—Trump has zero interest in letting Japan torpedo his scheduled China trip next April.

On the other hand, Beijing may well conclude that Washington is deliberately allowing Japan to interfere in China’s internal affairs in order to gain negotiating leverage. That would only reduce China’s inhibitions about sanctioning Japan and could lead it to directly challenge the U.S.–Japan Security Treaty, pushing the situation to the brink of losing control and forcing the U.S. to rein in Japan.

China has many tools to test the treaty—economic and trade measures, cultural exchanges, diplomacy, and even military options are all on the table. The disputed uninhabited Senkaku/Diaoyu Islands and the Ryukyu Islands, whose sovereignty remains unresolved, are both historical issues left over from World War II. Although both fall within the scope of the U.S.–Japan Security Treaty, Washington has never recognized Japanese sovereignty over them.

Regarding the Ryukyus, Beijing can wage a protracted legal battle, continually emphasizing that the Potsdam Declaration never returned the islands to Japan. Regarding the Senkaku/Diaoyu, Beijing could move directly to military control—land on the islands, demolish Japanese facilities, raise the Chinese flag, and expel foreign vessels—forcing the United States to get involved.

If Beijing is pushed to the point of letting the situation spiral, its price to Washington will be high: it may include, but is not limited to, demanding that the U.S. block Japan from abandoning the three non-nuclear principles, block Japan’s “normalization” (turning the Self-Defense Forces into a full-fledged military), force Japan to pay tangible and intangible reparations for its invasion of China, or even force Takaichi to step down.

Would Trump risk a second Chinese rare-earth embargo over an uninhabited island whose sovereignty does not belong to Japan? The answer is obvious.

Beijing’s current Taiwan strategy has shifted from “opposing independence” to “advancing unification.” Part of that strategy is to make neighboring countries acknowledge—through actual state behavior, not just words—that the Taiwan issue is China’s internal affair. Japan is the poster child for neighboring hypocrisy—talking peace while acting otherwise. It will be shown no mercy for breaking the promises of diplomatic normalization; Beijing is determined to make a chicken of Japan to scare the monkey.

From this perspective, Prime Minister Takaichi may have thought she could achieve a classic boomerang effect (using the Taiwan issue for domestic political gain by first exporting strong rhetoric abroad). Instead, Beijing has been handed a rare opportunity to use Japan as a target and demonstrate to the world how it will reduce obstacles to unification.

The United States wants to avoid direct confrontation with China and prefers to let proxies stand on the front line so it can reap the benefits while remaining in the rear. On the surface this creates trouble for Beijing, but in reality it also creates endless headaches for Washington—because China will not limit itself to dealing with the proxies; it will drag the United States into the fight.

This is the new tactical phase in U.S.–China competition following the Busan meeting, testing the one-year truce both sides agreed to. Whether proxies are an advantage or a liability for Washington depends entirely on how Beijing chooses to handle the dispute—and Tokyo makes the ideal canary in the coal mine.

Y la chona se mueve, al ritmo que los Fortniteros toquen.

Starting Friday, “Fortnite Festival” players across the globe can rock out to the story of la chona as Los Tucanes de Tijuana’s mega hit “La Chona” is the latest track to hit the “Fortnite” universe.

The 1995 song — which has long been a staple on party dance floors — has crossed over into international fame thanks to its prevalence on social media and the overall increased visibility of Latinos. People from within and outside of the culture have embraced the track’s playful nature and undeniably catchy melody—Metallica even got in on the fun with a 2024 live cover of the single at a show in Mexico City.

Like “Guitar Hero” and “Rock Band,” “Fortnite Festival” — a spinoff of the popular survival/ battle royale-style online game “Fortnite” — is a rhythm game that requires players to hit notes in-time to properly perform songs as members of a virtual band.

Los Tucanes de Tijuana have long been a staple of the música Mexicana scene on both sides of the border. In 2019, the group became the first norteño band to perform at the Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival, and have played massive gigs at Dodger Stadium, New York’s Central Park and Mexico City’s Zócalo Plaza.

The band made headlines in 2010 when it was banned playing in its hometown of Tijuana as a result of a 2008 concert in which the group’s lead singer, Mario Quintero Lara, sent his regards from the stage to the city’s most notorious and wanted men, “El Teo and his compadre, El Muletas.”

“El Teo” refers to Tijuana drug cartel leader Teodoro Garcia Simental, who was captured by authorities in 2012. “El Muletas” — which Spanish for “crutches” — was the nickname of Tijuana cartel leader Raydel Lopez Uriarte, who was captured in Mexico in 2010. The moniker stands for the trail of disabled people Lopez Uriarte left behind as part of his brutal attacks.

The shout-out enraged the city’s then-police chief Julian Leyzaola. He said the band’s polka-driven narcocorrido songs glorified drug lords and their exploits and were, therefore, inappropriate to play in a border city that had long suffered from drug-related violence.

“La Chona” is only the most recent playable song available as part of “Fortnite Festival’s” 11th season, which unlike previous iterations, is made up of songs from several performers rather than having only one featured artist. Other artists featured in the latest season include Jennie from Blackpink, Doja Cat, Simple Plan, Elton John, Fall Out Boy, Tyler the Creator, Slipknot and Olivia Rodrigo. Previous seasons of the game revolved around the music of Billie Eilish, Karol G, Bruno Mars, the Weeknd and Lady Gaga.

The “Fortnite” franchise first dabbled in the world of music in 2019 when DJ Marshmello performed a virtual concert on “Fortnite Battle Royale.” It was estimated that over 10.7 million people tuned in for the concert.

With the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic, the Fortnite metaverse became a refuge for artists looking to connect with audiences. Travis Scott performed for over 12.3 million players in April 2020, and Ariana Grande played inside the game in August 2021. Other artists who have rocked the “Fornite” stage are Eminem, Snoop Dogg, Juice Wrld, Metallica and Ice Spice.

Saudi Aerospace Solutions (SAS) has signed an agreement to purchase 100 electric helicopters from the Chinese company Vertaxi. This reflects Saudi Arabia’s commitment to strengthening its technological partnership with China in the field of future aviation. Saudi Arabian Airlines confirmed its intention to use these small, electric-powered aircraft, acquired through the “Vertaxi” deal, to transport pilgrims between Mecca and Jeddah, as well as visitors to major sporting events in Riyadh and other tourist destinations. The low-altitude economy (LAE), represented by “Vertaxi,” is a strategic and emerging sector in China, combining advanced manufacturing with new business models such as smart cities. SAS’s vision is to establish Saudi Arabia as a regional hub for the LEA by 2030.

  Through this deal with China’s Vertaxi and Saudi Aerospace Solutions Group, it continues to pursue its ambitious goals of connecting the world to Saudi Arabia. This includes offering several advantages, such as linking multiple destinations via this advanced Chinese electric aircraft and supporting them with air routes between the major airports where the Saudi group operates. This initiative aligns with Saudi Arabia’s vision of economic diversification and the shift towards smart transportation models that could impact future technological and regional balances. The 8th China International Import Expo witnessed the signing of an agreement between Saudi Aerospace Solutions Group and Vertaxi, a Chinese company specializing in electric vertical takeoff and landing (eVTOL) aircraft. Saudi Aerospace Solutions Group signed a letter of intent to purchase 100 Vertaxi M1 electric cargo VTOL aircraft.  The electric aircraft included in the deal are among the first fully electric vertical takeoff and landing (eVTOL) vehicles.

 These aircraft are distinguished by their ability to take off and land vertically, eliminating the need for traditional airports. They can travel up to 175 km at speeds of up to 260 km/h, offering significant time savings for individual passengers compared to other options, and can accommodate up to six passengers.

 Through this deal with China, Saudi Arabia, officially through the Saudi Solutions Group, aims to enter a new era and achieve leadership in the aviation and air transport sector in the region. The Saudi electric aircraft deal with China will provide unprecedented solutions and new air routes to connect pilgrims to Mecca during the Hajj and Umrah seasons. It will also enable visitors to Saudi Arabia to quickly access sporting and entertainment events and tourist sites, in addition to connecting the Kingdom’s mega-projects within the framework of Saudi Vision 2030 with distinguished air services that meet the future aspirations of Saudis. Furthermore, this deal achieves a highly important objective for Saudi Arabia, which is continuing the implementation of initiatives supporting sustainability and environmental conservation (electric aircraft), which are characterized by their reduced carbon dioxide emissions. This Saudi deal with China will contribute to providing more flights and reducing travel times by up to 90%, including to long-distance tourist destinations. It will also offer effective transportation solutions in areas congested with pilgrims, travelers, and traffic jams. Furthermore, this Saudi-Chinese agreement will contribute to reducing traffic congestion, saving time, expanding the range of premium services for VIP guests visiting Saudi Arabia, and providing a seamless and luxurious travel experience. This will also contribute to boosting tourism and business within the Kingdom.

 Saudi Arabia is relying on the air transport electrification deal with China as a practical path to decarbonizing this vital and important sector, which is currently characterized by high emissions and environmental damage. Currently, environmentally friendly and low-carbon-emission electric aircraft represent a very small percentage of the global aviation fleet. Saudi Solutions Company will collaborate with the Chinese company Vertaxi to develop local applications for these aircraft.  Electric vertical takeoff and landing (eVTOL) cargo services in Saudi Arabia, including low-level logistics, marine power transport, and security inspection.

 This Saudi deal with China comes at a time when China is accelerating its plans to strengthen its global digital presence. Tencent (the Chinese giant) is also simultaneously taking new steps in the Saudi market through cloud investments, in line with the goals of the Kingdom’s Vision 2030 for digital transformation. Dawson Tong, senior executive vice president of Tencent and CEO of its Cloud and Smart Industries Group, confirmed that “the new data center in the Saudi capital, Riyadh, represents a significant growth opportunity,” explaining that the Chinese partnership with Saudi Arabia is nearing completion of its final launch stages. He officially confirmed that “we already serve many Chinese companies that are increasing their investments in Saudi Arabia, and a number of our partners have lined up to benefit from the new data center in Riyadh, which allows us to expand not only within the Kingdom but throughout the entire region.”

  In this context, Saudi and Chinese companies signed 34 investment agreements on the sidelines of Chinese President Xi Jinping’s visit to Saudi Arabia in December 2022. These Saudi-Chinese agreements covered various sectors, including green energy and green hydrogen, solar photovoltaic energy, information technology, transportation and logistics, medical industries, housing, and construction, among others. Saudi Arabia’s Vision 2030 offers diverse investment opportunities in partnership with China across multiple sectors as part of the Saudi government’s efforts to diversify the economy away from crude oil, which is currently the Kingdom’s primary source of income.

 In the future industries sector, the Saudi Business Industries Company (Sahl Al-Aamal) signed a cooperation agreement with two Chinese companies: China New Energy and Eurasia. The aim is to establish a specialized electric vehicle manufacturing plant in Saudi Arabia, with investments totaling one billion Saudi riyals. This new Saudi-Chinese project also aims to support Saudi Arabia’s drive towards sustainable transportation, increase local content, and create quality job opportunities through partnership with Chinese companies.

 These Saudi steps towards partnership and cooperation with China come within the framework of the “Vision 100 strategy” to expand its international partnerships and enhance its ability to transfer advanced technologies and knowledge to the Saudi market, thus contributing to driving economic development and achieving sustainability.

  From the preceding analysis, we conclude that the Saudi-Chinese partnership, through the helicopter deal with the Chinese company Vertaxi and others, promotes environmentally friendly industrial innovation.  With the joint Saudi-Chinese effort to strengthen partnership in artificial intelligence and petrochemicals to develop sustainable and environmentally friendly technologies, Saudi Arabia has affirmed its readiness to welcome Chinese investments through the development of industrial cities, aiming to increase the number of its factories to more than 26,000 by 2030 through cooperation with China.

Political assassinations have long punctuated Mexico’s democratic trajectory, often surfacing at moments when institutional fragility becomes impossible to ignore. The murder of Uruapan’s mayor is therefore not an unprecedented shock but the latest manifestation of a recurring pattern in which local political authority collapses under the weight of criminal power. The country has witnessed similar moments in past electoral cycles, in rural municipalities, and along contested economic corridors. What is different today is the increasing regularity and visibility of these attacks, signalling not just isolated episodes of violence but a systemic erosion of governance. The killing of Carlos Manzo crystallises a truth that communities in Michoacán, Guerrero, Guanajuato, Sinaloa, Zacatecas and beyond have recognised for years: insecurity has metastasised into a political condition.

Michoacán has long been a barometer for national security. The state’s geography, agricultural wealth, and fragmented political networks have made it a battleground for groups competing for control. Yet the recent escalation in places like Uruapan signals a worrying transformation. Local reports of extortion, blockades, and increasingly public displays of force reflect criminal organisations behaving as de facto authorities. Entire communities have adapted to a logic of survival shaped by invisible borders, curfews, and negotiated coexistence with whoever wields power at any given moment. The assassination of public figures in such an environment is not simply a political act but a show of ownership over territory, demonstrating that the real lines of authority do not run through government offices but through armed structures with the capacity to enforce their will.

What is unfolding today is not an isolated deterioration but a worsening trend that has become more explicit during the last two federal administrations. The promise that security would be reimagined through social policy and a rejection of past militarised models never materialised into real control of territory or a coherent strategy for dismantling criminal governance. While the language changed, the underlying problem deepened. The country saw more regions where the state operates only partially or symbolically, where elections proceeded under intimidation, and where local authorities lacked the means or autonomy to resist the pressures around them. The result is an increasingly fragmented political geography in which criminal groups influence candidate selection, determine which campaigns can operate, and regulate economic flows at the community level.

Under Andrés Manuel López Obrador, the narrative of moral regeneration through social investment was presented as a long-term answer to entrenched violence. Yet the gap between discourse and reality widened every year. Homicides remained persistently high, disappearances continued to haunt families, and entire municipalities came under the shadow of armed groups. The federal government’s insistence that security indicators were improving often clashed with the everyday experience of citizens navigating threats, extortion, and territorial disputes. Even as official statistics were reinterpreted to show progress, the lived reality in regions such as Michoacán, Guerrero, Zacatecas, and Guanajuato suggested that criminal organisations had consolidated their presence more deeply than before.

It is against this backdrop that Claudia Sheinbaum assumed the presidency, carrying forward a security model that was already failing. Her early months in office reveal how far the government still is from containing the expanding insecurity. Despite official claims of reduced violence, these figures jar with how people actually experience their lives. A majority of citizens continue to feel unsafe, and communities in high-risk states report no perceptible change. Her reliance on social prevention ignores how firmly criminal networks have embedded themselves in local political and economic systems. In several regions, armed groups continue to operate openly, even during federal visits, reinforcing the perception that national security strategy is more rhetorical than practical. The dissonance between optimistic messaging and deteriorating public trust reveals a government that has yet to confront the structural nature of the problem. In doing so, it risks turning its security agenda into little more than political theatre rather than a meaningful plan to reassert state authority.

Federal responses, while immediate and visible, reveal a deep structural weakness. Large-scale deployments, announcements of multi-sector investment packages and public proclamations of institutional coordination have become the standard repertoire of crisis management. These interventions create the appearance of control but rarely alter the conditions that allow criminal groups to flourish. The persistent challenges of corruption, politicised policing, fragmented prosecutorial capacity and limited municipal autonomy remain largely unresolved. Without addressing these deficits, security operations risk becoming cyclical performances rather than durable solutions.

National security trends further complicate the picture. Although certain aggregate indicators suggest stabilisation or marginal declines, the broader trajectory reflects a shift towards diversified criminal governance. Extortion, territorial control, interference in municipal administration and the permeation of legitimate industries reflect forms of violence that escape simple statistical capture. Thus, a focus on homicide figures alone obscures the structural deterioration of Mexico’s security landscape. The issue is not merely how many people are killed or disappeared, but how violence shapes political participation, economic activity and civic behaviour.

The deterioration of security in Mexico is inseparable from the erosion of its democratic foundations. Criminal groups no longer just threaten individuals — they infiltrate political processes, influence elections, and shape economic life. Municipalities under their sway become more than battlegrounds; they become laboratories of parallel governance. Political pluralism suffers when competition is skewed by coercion; the meaningful choice of leaders erodes when citizens know that certain voices are too dangerous to raise. Freedom of expression, too, is undermined. Journalists, activists, and community leaders operate in climates where challenging criminal-political alliances can entail serious risks. Self-censorship becomes a survival strategy, and public debate narrows under the weight of unspoken fear. When participation becomes dangerous, political representation becomes illusory.

This is not how democratic life is supposed to function. Institutions — from city halls to courts — ought to guarantee protection, justice, and participation. Yet in many places, the real source of power lies outside constitutional structures, in the hands of groups that command both arms and economic influence. This isn’t a temporary crisis; it is a systemic breakdown: when violence is structural, the response must be institutional.

Civil society responses illustrate both the potential and the limits of civic resistance. The mobilisation of Generation Z represents an important shift: a young, digitally connected cohort demanding accountability, transparency and meaningful security reform. These demonstrations are grounded in lived experience. For many young people, insecurity is not an abstract policy concern but an organising principle of daily life. Their protests reflect a rejection of narratives that normalise violence, minimise institutional failure or reduce insecurity to political rhetoric. Yet their activism also highlights a worrying reality: younger generations increasingly turn to extra-institutional forms of political expression because formal channels appear unresponsive.

The erosion of freedom is not only visible in the public sphere but in private life. Decisions that should be routine — attending a festival, organising a community meeting, even taking certain roads — have become political acts shaped by calculations of risk. This gradual internalisation of fear constitutes a subtle but profound form of democratic regression. When citizens adapt their behaviour to avoid harm, the space for free expression, open debate and community participation contracts. Democracy loses not through abrupt authoritarian shifts but through the slow, everyday retreat of civic life.

Addressing this crisis requires an institutional response that moves beyond episodic militarisation. Prosecutorial structures must be capable of pursuing cases that reveal networks rather than producing symbolic arrests. Municipal police forces must be professionalised, insulated from political interference and equipped with oversight mechanisms. Transparency must also be central in any reform. Citizens need access to clear, verifiable information about investigations, budget allocations, and the performance of security institutions. Without this, trust will remain a casualty of rhetorical solutions. Economic regulation must prevent criminal control of supply chains, especially in high-value sectors. Without reform of these foundational elements, any security strategy will be short-lived and vulnerable to the next surge in criminal activity.

At the national level, political leadership must recognise that security, democracy and economic development are interdependent. Reducing violence without strengthening democratic institutions will merely shift the form that insecurity takes. Conversely, institutional reforms that ignore security realities will remain aspirational. The state must rebuild public trust not through proclamations but through transparent evidence of institutional effectiveness.

International cooperation can play a supporting role, particularly in intelligence and financial tracing, but it cannot substitute for domestic institution-building. Sovereignty requires the capacity to govern effectively; reliance on external actors to fill institutional gaps risks reinforcing perceptions of state weakness.

Mexico stands at a juncture where insecurity threatens more than physical safety. It challenges the very conditions that make democratic life possible. The murder of Uruapan’s mayor is therefore not simply another entry in a long record of violence but a sign of cumulative democratic decay. If unchecked, this trajectory will entrench parallel systems of governance in which criminal groups continue to expand their authority while formal institutions recede.

The country’s future depends on rejecting this drift. A more honest political narrative is needed — one that acknowledges institutional failure, confronts criminal power directly and recognises that democracy cannot coexist indefinitely with pervasive fear. The question is whether political leaders will choose the difficult path of structural reform or continue to rely on reactive measures that mask, rather than resolve, the crisis.

Mexico cannot allow political assassination to become an unremarkable feature of its democratic life. Public institutions must assert their authority not through spectacle but through competence. Reversing the current trajectory will require political courage, institutional reconstruction and a renewed commitment to pluralism and freedom. The alternative is stark: a political landscape where democracy is reduced to procedures while real power is negotiated through violence, and where the politics of fear become the politics of the state.

As the world moves into the final weeks of 2025, the global landscape looks markedly different from that of 2024. Over the past year, the world has witnessed a greater number of conflicts than at any time since the turbulence in the Middle East in the early 2000s. The Israel–Iran confrontation, the Thailand–Cambodia clashes, and most recently the U.S.–Venezuela conflict—together with earlier crises such as the Russia–Ukraine war that began in 2022 and Myanmar’s protracted internal turmoil—illustrate how sharply the global strategic chessboard is being reshaped.

These conflicts form a chain of consecutive flashpoints, each diverting global attention away from Taiwan—a uniquely sensitive entity for China.

China’s Moves Behind the Scenes

Following Donald Trump’s victory in the 2024 U.S. presidential election, Chinese President Xi Jinping proclaimed on December 31, 2024, “No one can halt China’s drive to reunify with Taiwan.” Far from being a one-off remark, this declaration reflects a long-standing stance repeatedly voiced by Xi. He had frequently told President Joe Biden that Taiwan remains a “loaded gun” positioned by the United States at China’s doorstep—mirroring the Cold War dynamic when the Soviet Union stationed missiles in Cuba during the Bay of Pigs crisis. For Beijing, the absorption of Taiwan is therefore seen as indispensable to securing China’s national defense interests.

Across global media, China has been detected amassing large quantities of weaponry and military personnel in Fujian Province, only about 130 kilometers from Taiwan at its nearest point. Well before the Russia–Ukraine war broke out in 2022, Beijing had already been discreetly improving infrastructure in Fujian and stockpiling cutting-edge weapons in preparation for future contingencies.

Any state planning a major military operation must invest years into upgrading logistics networks, fortifications, and weapons production. Since 2022—while the world has been preoccupied with overlapping conflicts—China has had ample time to build the capacity needed for a move on Taiwan.

With multiple crises flaring at once, the United States cannot realistically stretch its resources to fully assist all allies. This dynamic underscores the possibility that the succession of global conflicts since 2022 has ultimately helped divert attention and dilute Western, especially American, bandwidth—conveniently easing China’s path toward its long-standing objective regarding Taiwan.

What has the US done?

Despite a clear weakening since the beginning of the 21st century, the United States still holds a ‘relatively’ firm position in leading the world order. Many US officials across two presidential administrations have shared the view regarding the possibility of China annexing Taiwan by force in 2027. President Joe Biden, a member of the Democratic Party who was initially an advocate for minimizing disagreements with China, has also exerted maximum pressure on Beijing throughout his term, surprising and confusing many experts.

In 2024, the establishment of the US-Japan-Philippines trilateral link signals the utmost concern from policymakers regarding China’s activities. Strategically, US partners and allies will therefore form a continuous arc-shaped formation to deter China’s negative activities. This support will generate significant regional influence and form the US ecosystem in the Indo-Pacific. In the event of a conflict in the Taiwan Strait, US partners and allies will assist Washington in pressuring Beijing, forcing the country to reconsider the possibility of escalating the conflict with Taiwan.

After Trump’s election, he strengthened cooperation with Taiwan. When he imposed tariffs on Taiwan, along with other countries, it was not merely a simple economic move but also demonstrated his desire for the world’s attention on this entity. Notably, the increase in TSMC’s investment in the US to $165 billion in March 2025, compared to $65 billion, suggests the Trump administration’s subtle backing of Taiwan. When a crucial company from an investing nation is attacked, resources and investment activities will be delayed, leading to economic damage, in this case, to the US. Although the role of Taiwan was not directly integrated, the Trump administration made a very sharp move.

Furthermore, the bombing of Iranian nuclear facilities in Israel’s Operation Rising Lion in June 2025 serves as a signal to China regarding the possibility of military conflict escalation with US presence should Beijing use force against Taipei. The renaming of the department back to the ‘Department of War’ further reinforces the possibility that the US could proactively attack any nation that confronts Washington’s interests.

Will a conflict in the Taiwan Strait occur?

Many experts and scholars have discussed whether China will invade Taiwan, as asserted by the country’s leaders. When a conflict occurs in a region/area, the global order will easily witness numerous impacts.

For China, in the event that Beijing captures the island, the country will incur sanctions from the US and its allies and partners. Furthermore, the possibility of intervention from countries within the US’s ‘hub-and-spoke’ model in the Taiwan situation is entirely feasible.

Japan is the country that made the strongest declaration when the new Prime Minister, Sanae Takaichi, stated in a National Assembly meeting that if Taiwan is attacked, Japan will be directly affected and it concerns Tokyo’s ‘survival.’ Japan has also progressively amended and interpreted its constitution to legitimize the action of deploying troops overseas to assist its partners. The fact that an individual who has just taken office as Prime Minister of Japan has made such tough statements regarding Taiwan indicates that a conflict in the Taiwan Strait is entirely possible, lending more credence to the 2027 forecast.

According to a RAND report, the countries that could potentially join the group defending Taiwan alongside the US include the UK, Australia, and Japan within the next ‘3–6 months,’ corresponding to Q1 and Q2 of 2026. This further reinforces the possibility of a conflict occurring in the Taiwan Strait, aligning with the statements made by US defense officials (and later the Department of War), as well as President Xi Jinping’s long-standing declarations regarding the possibility of annexing Taiwan by 2027.

It is clear that Taiwan, despite being an island, has a significant impact on the US-China competition. In the context of ongoing global conflicts, Taiwan is viewed as the final destination for conflicts in recent years. The US and its partners and allies may increase their presence on this island in various forms to ensure its ‘safety.’ 

Confusing messages about Britain’s budget are damaging the government’s credibility, according to investors, businesses, and think tanks. Bond prices fell after finance minister Rachel Reeves changed her stance regarding income tax. After suggesting that she might raise income tax to stick to her fiscal plans, a Financial Times report confirmed that she had decided against it, raising concerns about the government’s commitment to its fiscal promises.

Reeves’ initial comments during a pre-budget speech hinted at a possible income tax increase, which would contradict the Labour Party’s pledges for the upcoming 2024 election. Andrew Goodwin, chief UK economist at Oxford Economics, described the situation as a communication failure, especially after the government had already retracted welfare reforms earlier in the year, making many question their ability to make tough financial decisions.

A government official mentioned that a better forecast from the budget watchdog might allow the abandonment of the income tax plan, further undermining the credibility of the government’s financial assumptions. Ben Zaranko from the Institute for Fiscal Studies criticized the inconsistent messaging, stating that it reflects poorly on the policy-making process, which appears rushed and unstable.

Business leaders are worried about these mixed signals, fearing the budget may only include minor tax adjustments that introduce uncertainty for companies. Mohammad Jamei from the Confederation of British Industry emphasized that such unpredictability would lead businesses to delay investment decisions. A senior executive expressed frustration over the political implications of the situation.

Financial markets are also concerned about a return to inconsistent tax increases, with experts believing this could suggest a lack of support for the chancellor from her party. Jane Foley from Rabobank noted that Reeves’ changing statements have harmed her credibility, affecting the UK asset market negatively. Long-dated government bond yields rose significantly in response to these developments.

Investors are reminded of the economic turmoil caused by former Prime Minister Liz Truss’s policies, which still impact their confidence in the UK’s financial stability. Stephen Millard from the National Institute of Economic and Social Research suggested that Reeves needs to create a financial buffer to ensure stability and reduce speculation about the government’s fiscal policies, leading to clearer communication and more dependable budget planning.

With information from Reuters

During the past several years, war scenarios and analyses issuing from Washington have hewed to a familiar but deceptively reassuring image of the future: one of an “absoluteness of reliance on technological superiority, precision initial strikes, and the illusion of a ‘quick victory’ as some sort of magic solution to crises like a Chinese attack on Taiwan.” This is arguably decisive and reassuring on the surface but is, on closer and realistic examination, a dangerous fantasy rather than a practical operational scenario. Not only is it wholly incompatible with the military, industrial, and political situation in which the United States currently finds itself, but it also conceals the danger of involving the world in a nuclear escalation and a prolonged conflict, which the United States cannot afford.

In reality, U.S. military strategists are faced with an insoluble dilemma: Insisting on the “quick victory” doctrine raises the chances of a preemptive nuclear response from Beijing to certainty. If they start preparing for a long, grinding war, the more important question becomes: Is the U.S., in terms of industry, military capability, and political will, even capable of it? The realistic answer is no—at least not on the scale that many American decision-makers imagine.

Most Pentagon war plans, accordingly, emphasize cyberattacks and long-range strikes against China’s command structures, communication hubs, logistical networks, and missile bases. Ideally, this would leave China paralyzed within days, with a collapsed will to fight. In the real world, this can backfire: hitting essential Chinese systems, the leadership in Beijing—operating under unprecedented isolation and pressure—might revert to “escalation vertically,” that is, the early use of nuclear weapons to sustain their deterrent.

China’s nuclear arsenal, though still smaller than that of the US, is growing rapidly. By 2040, estimates suggest, China could possess some 600 operational warheads, compared with the United States’s stockpile of about 3,700. This growing disparity could be driving Beijing toward a more perilous posture—one in which it resorts to using nuclear weapons before that option disappears. Most Chinese missile systems are dual-use, meaning they can be equipped with either conventional or nuclear warheads. A U.S. strike against DF-21 or DF-26 launchers might thus be viewed as an attack on the survivability of China’s nuclear deterrent and could invite a nuclear response.

This is far from theoretical. Recent Pentagon war games have set off alarms. In many of the simulations, U.S. anti-ship missile stocks are depleted in just days; long-range munitions, in two weeks. Even scenarios in which Taiwan, supported by the U.S. and Japan, resists Chinese aggression depict victories at a devastating cost: dozens of ships sunk, hundreds of aircraft destroyed, and thousands of U.S. casualties—numbers that the American public and policymakers could scarcely accept.

For a global power, effective strategy must correspond with the country’s real industrial, financial, and societal capacity. In recent decades, the U.S. has drastically reduced its military production capabilities while increasing dependence on foreign supply chains. The war in Ukraine has given a glimpse of how even modest arms support for allies can deplete critical stockpiles quickly. Imagine the strain should the U.S. fight a full-scale war with the world’s second-largest economy thousands of miles from its shores.

The problem goes far beyond military planning and munitions shortages. Domestically, the U.S. does not have political and social consensus with regard to defending Taiwan. In contrast with the Cold War era, when the Soviet threat unified the American public, today Americans feel much less that their vital interests in East Asia are at stake. In such a context, how could the public accept tens of thousands of casualties and astronomical costs to defend a small island?
It is during any protracted conflict that national will plays as important a role as weapons and technology. Without political unity, industrial capacity, and societal tolerance, technological superiority means nothing. Washington will continue to remain enmeshed in the same fantasy that has brought empires low: that technology and military power can somehow substitute for strategic judgment.

A way out of this deadlock is quite evident, but the political will is lacking. Firstly, the U.S. should recognize that technological superiority does not necessarily translate into strategic dominance. Secondly, if it is serious about defending Taiwan, it needs to start rebuilding industrial capacity now, expand munitions production lines, and level with its people about what war would really look and feel like. Thirdly, diplomacy and sustainable deterrence must be reinstated—not through threats or arms races, but through dialogue, crisis management, and reduction of the risk of miscalculation between Washington and Beijing.

If the U.S. keeps on fantasizing about a quick and cost-free victory, then it will not only face defeat on the battlefield but also push the world to the brink of a nuclear catastrophe. The ability to engage in war depends not only on the number of missiles and ships but also on political wisdom, economic capability, and a clear-eyed view of reality—three things the U.S. plainly lacks in its confrontation with China. It is time for Washington to wake up from its comforting illusions of power and face reality in terms of true strength—before it is too late.

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.