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The Houthi attack on merchant ships in the Red Sea shows that asymmetric strategies have become one of the most disruptive forces in international security, often more effective than conventional state military power. The operations of these non-state groups not only disrupt global trade routes but also expose fundamental weaknesses in the international maritime security architecture. This phenomenon marks a major shift in the character of modern conflict: war is no longer the monopoly of states, and non-state actors are now capable of altering global strategic calculations at a much lower cost. This article argues that the Houthi operations reflect the failure of the traditional security paradigm and underscore the urgency of understanding irregular threats as a determining factor in contemporary geopolitical dynamics.

The Houthis’ success is rooted in the use of asymmetric strategies that combine low cost, high flexibility, and significant strategic impact. Unlike 20th-century insurgencies that relied on guerrilla tactics, the Houthis have increased the scale of the threat by utilizing kamikaze drones, ballistic missiles, and inexpensive surveillance systems. They direct these low-cost weapons at commercial vessels worth billions of dollars. When a single drone damages or threatens a merchant ship, dozens of global companies are forced to reroute, increase logistics costs, and face widespread economic risks. Asymmetric strategies work by avoiding the opponent’s main strengths and attacking points that render those strengths irrelevant. This is what is happening in the Red Sea: the superiority of modern warships is useless when the threat comes from small drones that are difficult to track and cheap to replace (Baylis and Wirtz, 2016).

The limitations of the navies of major countries in responding to these attacks highlight problems in traditional defense doctrine. The United States and Britain have deployed advanced combat fleets, but Houthi attacks continue and hit strategic targets. Major powers designed defense systems to deal with interstate threats, not irregular attacks from irregular actors who have no diplomatic obligations and do not submit to international norms. Modern insurgencies thrive by exploiting institutional gaps and the unpreparedness of states to respond to rapidly changing conflict dynamics. The Houthis are a case in point: they operate in a grey area that is not accounted for in conventional defense frameworks (Kilcullen, 2009).

The Houthis’ strategic strength stems not only from their military capabilities but also from their ability to exploit global economic interdependence. The Suez–Red Sea route is one of the world’s logistics hubs. When this region is disrupted, the consequences immediately affect the global energy market, European and Asian supply chains, and logistics costs for almost all sectors of international trade. Houthi attacks, although physically limited, have a huge psychological effect. When an attack occurs, dozens of international companies immediately review their navigation routes. This fear has a much greater economic impact than the physical damage to the ships that are targeted. In a strategic context, the Houthis have understood that creating uncertainty is a very cheap and very effective strategic weapon.

Moreover, Houthi operations are not merely military actions but part of broader geopolitical dynamics in the Middle East. They function as non-state actors and instruments in regional competition, particularly between Iran, Saudi Arabia, and the United States. With technological and logistical support from patron states such as Iran, the Houthis play a role in a larger regional strategy. This blurs the line between state and non-state actor strategies. Attacks on merchant ships are an effective way to put pressure on major countries without the political risks that usually accompany direct military action.

The involvement of non-state actors in the architecture of modern conflict reveals that the conventional concept of international security is no longer adequate. The doctrine of global maritime security was designed on the assumption that the main threat comes from rival states. However, the greatest threats today come from groups that do not have official navies, do not hold sovereign territory, and are not accountable to the international community. While states remain fixated on traditional threats, groups such as the Houthis are able to move quickly, flexibly, and effectively, exploiting every available opportunity. This is why international stability is increasingly vulnerable, even as the military power of major states continues to advance technologically.

The Red Sea crisis highlights the need for a major paradigm shift in global security strategy. Countries can no longer rely on interstate deterrence as the main pillar. A new model is needed that combines counter-drones, supply chain security, regional diplomacy, and conflict stabilization policies on land. Without a multidimensional approach, countries will continue to be stuck in short-term reactions rather than long-term strategies.

Ultimately, the Houthi attacks in the Red Sea are not merely a disruption to international trade but a warning that the global security order is undergoing a fundamental repositioning. The arguments in this paper show that asymmetric strategies have eroded state dominance and revealed the unpreparedness of international security structures to deal with irregular threats. If states fail to update their paradigms, the future of global stability will increasingly be determined by actors who have no international obligations, are not subject to the norms of war, and are able to maximize their power at minimal cost. The world is entering a new era of strategy, and the Red Sea is proof that state dominance is no longer the mainstay of contemporary warfare.

Amid heightened Japan-China tensions, US President Donald Trump spoke by telephone with Chinese President Xi Jinping. While Trump termed it a positive development, stating he would visit China in April 2026, China claimed that it categorically made it clear that “Taiwan’s return to China was an ‘integral part of the postwar international order.” While it has been reported that Trump requested a phone call with Japanese Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi, the details of the conversation between the two haven’t been made public yet.

Trump’s claim of “extremely strong” US-China relations has once again seized global attention. Earlier, last month, just ahead of his highly anticipated meeting with Chinese President Xi Jinping in Busan, South Korea, Trump boldly announced on Truth Social, “THE G2 WILL BE CONVENING SHORTLY!”

Unsurprisingly, the statement sparked widespread discussion, directly invoking China and seemingly reviving the long-dormant G2 concept, an idea previously floated by former President Barack Obama.

This apparent attempt to resurrect the “G2” notion, which envisions shared global leadership between the US and China, marks a notable rhetorical shift and is surprising given that Trump has been hawkish on China even during his first term as the president. By invoking it, Washington has brought back a concept dismissed as a faulty trade-off, given the persistent and often adversarial nature of US-China relations. Media analyses suggest that this move reflects a growing recognition within the US of China’s rising power and an uneasy acknowledgement of its near-equal status on the world stage. The renewed attention signals an implicit acceptance within American policy circles of China’s expanding international influence and the shifting balance of global power.

For China, however, the idea holds little appeal. First, China continues to present itself as a developing country, aspiring to lead the Global South and, eventually, to achieve broader global influence. Unlike the West, China sees strategic value in retaining the support of developing nations to bolster its legitimacy. While it aims to surpass the US militarily, economically, and technologically, it is unlikely to embrace a bilateral framework implying formalized co-governance of the world. Second, the ideological, strategic, and global ambitions gap between China and the US remains vast, limiting the feasibility of any institutionalized G2 arrangement. Third, if such a framework were ever to exist, it would likely involve broader coalitions of nations with differing ideologies, capacities, and priorities, rather than a US-China duopoly. In this light, the G2 concept appears even less plausible for China in 2025 than it did in the 2000s.

While much commentary has focused on how this discourse may be interpreted in China, the implications extend far beyond the bilateral relationship. Washington’s allies and partners across the Indo-Pacific are closely observing these developments. For many in the region, stability in US-China relations is desirable, as it would help mitigate the risks of confrontation, economic disruption, regional instability, and global upheavals. Yet Trump’s rhetoric has also generated unease among America’s regional partners regarding Washington’s long-term strategic intentions.

Concerns are growing that a return to the G2 framework could signal a weakening of US commitment to the Indo-Pacific, particularly in terms of security and regional order. While sustained engagement with China is widely accepted as necessary, framing the relationship as one of shared global governance may alarm America’s allies and partners, especially the Quad countries, the Philippines, and Taiwan. For these countries, any suggestion of a US-China condominium raises doubts about the credibility of the US’s status as a security guarantor and its assurances of collective defense and regional stability.

From the US perspective, reviving the G2 discourse may appear advantageous to smooth the way for a rare earth materials deal with China or to ease bilateral tensions. But fundamental differences and rivalry cannot be erased: China’s ultimate goal is to overtake the US. In all likelihood, China will view G2 rhetoric skeptically, interpreting it as a sign of US weakness and declining influence in the Indo-Pacific.

The Xi-Trump phone call and China’s reiteration of the Taiwan claim put pressure on Trump’s G2 plan. How Trump would manage ties with Japan and Taiwan while building relations with China is an issue worthy of international attention.

Trump’s episodic and erratic approach to China and the region risks eroding the trust the US has painstakingly built with its partners. There is little chance that countries such as India, Japan, or the Philippines would accept a bipolar world dominated solely by the US and China. Rather than serving as a stabilizer, the G2 concept is more likely to be seen as an attempt to divide the world into two poles once again, or worse, as a signal that the US is content with a bipolar world rather than a genuinely multipolar order.

Even if the G2 never materializes, the rhetoric has already strengthened China’s position while placing the US in a strategic bind. In effect, it is a win-win for China but a lose-lose for America. There are limitations to America First not only for the region but also for America itself and its foreign policy. The Trump administration’s path would do well to seriously consider the perspectives of its allies and partners, rather than advancing a strategy that ultimately benefits China.

Joseph Kosinski didn’t want to direct “F1” unless he was able to do it the hard way. That was the germ of an idea for what would eventually become one of the biggest hits of 2025: Create a movie about an underdog Formula One team that didn’t fake being at F1 races, but actually became a part of them.

“It was kind of like, ‘Yes, this is a little insane,’” said Kosinski, “‘but if we can pull it off, we’ll get something totally unique.’”

Kosinski doesn’t present as your average adrenaline junkie. He’s mellow and looks like he could work at a bank — in fact, he pursued architecture before finding a calling in film as a David Fincher protégé. Kosinski was trusted with blockbusters from his debut, 2010’s “Tron: Legacy,” and in 2022 broke through with “Top Gun: Maverick,” which strapped Tom Cruise and other insurance liabilities into actual fighter jets as an alternative to relying on CGI.

“I think on ‘Maverick,’” Kosinski said, “I found out that the audience does appreciate when you shoot something for real. They can tell the difference between something done on a soundstage and done in a real situation. It’s something we are very attuned to and connect to.”

“F1” tells the story of Sonny Hayes (Brad Pitt), a leathery road dog of a driver who gets called back into Formula One by an old racing friend (Javier Bardem), who’s now the owner of a struggling team, desperate for a Hail Mary. The film is partially based in reality; the Hayes character is inspired by Martin Donnelly, whose promising career was cut short in 1990 by a gruesome crash. It’s also partially based in a fantasy in which someone old enough to have seen the 1966 epic “Grand Prix” in theaters would be allowed to sit in the driver’s seat of a modern F1 team.

Director Joseph Kosinski on the set of “F1.”

(Apple TV)

But the fantasy elements were designed to be offset by a hyperrealism that’s rarely afforded to film productions — not just in the ability to feature the actual teams and drivers, but also to film a significant portion of the movie at the races themselves. It helped that the production had Lewis Hamilton, one of the best drivers in the history of the sport, on board as a producer to help grease the wheels with the Fédération Internationale de l’Automobile, the governing body of F1. Even with Hamilton, though, Apple — which ultimately spent over $200 million on the movie — had to prove to the FIA that they could set up at an event like the fabled British Grand Prix at Silverstone and not cause a pileup.

“We had to rehearse the blocking and staging for about two weeks with a stopwatch in front of the FIA to prove to them that we could actually shoot a scene and get off the track before the race started,” said Kosinski, referring to a crucial scene when the characters played by Pitt and Tobias Menzies first meet.

Unlike “Maverick,” in which military pilots flew the jets, “F1” features driving from Brad Pitt and co-star Damson Idris, in some sense because it was the only way to get the shots they needed. “They’ve got four cameras in front of them that are whipping around and they’re having to do their lines and perform,” said Kosinski. “But mostly they’re trying not to die in front of 100,000 people.”

Every department — from the actors to craft services — had to learn how to operate at dangerous speeds and with higher stakes. Ben Munro, who did the production design with Mark Tildesley, explained that, normally, his department would have two weeks to build a set; in some cases on “F1,” such as a scene filmed at the McLaren headquarters, they would have just 12 hours, overnight.

“When you try to integrate with the real world, ultimate control becomes harder,” Munro said. “And as filmmakers, we’re used to being in ultimate control.”

The “F1” team developed new cameras to capture the film’s ultra-realistic high-speed racing.

(Apple TV)

The camera team too had to be adaptable and mobile (no VistaVision here), all while figuring out how to capture footage at 180 miles per hour that couldn’t be covered with more than a few takes. “First, we had to make a camera that didn’t exist yet,” said Claudio Miranda, the film’s cinematographer.

Miranda, who won an Oscar for “Life of Pi,” worked with Sony to develop small, agile “sensor-on-a-stick” cameras with Imax-worthy lenses to place around the cars. Coverage became essential — there were 16 camera positions to capture as much as possible. With both the racing itself and the hoopla around race weekend, the usual filmmaking mindset simply had to change: “I’m not always able to shoot sunset for this shot, or backlight for this quarter,” said Miranda, describing his thinking. “We traded all that in for the realism of the movie. But I think that’s unbeatable.”

Other than a few spinouts (and a stray Brad Pitt fan ruining a shot to get a selfie), the production was miraculously accident-free, despite taking almost two years to film. That may be due in part to the fact that, if you squint, it turns out that a film crew is similar enough to an F1 team to fit right in.

“Everyone had to be prepared for those nine-minute shoot windows in the same way that you’d have to be ready for a pit stop,” Kosinski said. “There was a really interesting kinship. And we really did feel like the 11th team after spending two seasons with them.”

The moment that sticks with Miranda is from the end of the production, in Abu Dhabi, when all the real F1 teams got their cars out for one grand scene together — a million-dollar setup, to undersell it by a few digits. “In the beginning, it did feel like we were this annoying little buzzard,” Miranda said. “I think that’s why I got really emotional when everyone wanted to help us out in the final race and bring the cars out. Because it felt like, at the end, we were kind of loved.”

Can a significant and historic presence in Nicaea in commemoration of the 1700th anniversary of the first Ecumenical Council reshape the framework of global Christian dialogue? Pope Leo XIV stands on ground where the first common statement of Christian belief was formed seventeen centuries ago in the context of the first Ecumenical Council. The lake near Nicaea reflects a city marked by long memory. The visit does not seek public spectacle. It seeks depth.

Nicaea holds a rare form of significance. It represents a moment before fragmentation. A point where Christian leaders gathered to agree on the foundations of faith. The Creed shaped in this city became the common reference for churches that later followed separate paths. Modern reporting treats the return to this location as an event that reaches far beyond history.

Catholic analysts describe the entire journey as a platform for structured engagement in regions facing humanitarian risk. Diplomats notice that the visit creates three layers of meaning. The first is theological. The Creed continues to stand as the most stable reference point in the Christian world. It belongs to all. It excludes none. By returning to this shared foundation, the Pope frames dialogue on a level where long-standing differences do not erase the possibility of cooperation. Nicaea becomes neutral ground shaped by memory, not by competition.

The second layer concerns Turkey. The host country receives two ecclesiastical authorities with global reach. This presence allows Ankara to present a profile of stability and controlled engagement. The Turkish state seeks to gain diplomatic value by precisely managing an event of global religious interest. The visit shows that Turkey can provide a calm setting for high-level dialogue. This matters in a region where tensions remain visible and where regional trust is often fragile.

The third layer concerns the Ecumenical Patriarchate. The presence of the Ecumenical Patriarch in Nicaea reflects continuity. The Ecumenical Patriarchate appears as an institution that maintains a steady link to the origins of Christian identity. The visit confirms that this link remains relevant for contemporary diplomacy. The Ecumenical Patriarchate gains space to articulate its role in matters that extend beyond the inner life of the Church. It operates as a voice that connects historical experience with public responsibility.

The papal journey signals a shift in diplomatic rhythm. States often work inside short cycles, shaped by elections, immediate pressures, and shifting alliances. Religious institutions work with longer horizons. Their strength lies in stability and consistent representation. This contrast produces space for initiatives that require patience. Current challenges in Lebanon, instability in the Eastern Mediterranean, and the need to support minority communities demand actors who maintain firm positions without rapid fluctuations. A coordinated presence in Nicaea offers such a foundation.

The significance of the visit grows through its simplicity. A prayer beside the lake, a joint statement, and the act of walking together inside the historic city produce a stable message. Cooperation becomes visible without exaggeration. The region gains a moment of calm narrative. Christian communities observe two ancient institutions approaching each other with clarity and restraint. This image contributes to a sense of balance in an environment shaped by uncertainty.

Nicaea becomes a diplomatic space in its own right. It is not an arena of negotiation. It is a site that offers shared memory with no tension. Modern diplomacy often searches for locations that can support conversation without pressure. Nicaea provides this naturally. The city stands outside polarized debates. It holds symbolic value without imposing a political agenda. A papal visit strengthens this character and gives Nicaea renewed relevance in discussions about stability and cooperation.

The effects of this visit may unfold gradually. Joint humanitarian initiatives could gain stronger coordination. Churches may open structured channels for supporting communities under stress in Lebanon, Jordan, and other regions of the Middle East. Dialogue among Christian bodies can develop with greater consistency. States in the Eastern Mediterranean may engage with these institutions in more formal ways. All these possibilities gain substance because the visit gives clear institutional legitimacy to a shared framework.

The return to Nicaea does not promise rapid or dramatic transformation. It shapes a foundation for patient diplomacy. The city provides steady ground in a world where constant crises weaken attention spans. Nicaea speaks through continuity. The visit reminds the international community that institutions with long historical roots can offer stable guidance in periods of instability. This is not nostalgia. It is recognition that durable structures can support fragile societies.

In this sense, Nicaea gains a renewed voice. The city becomes a reference point for future cooperation. The Papal presence demonstrates that sacred geography can still influence public life. The visit marks a shift toward long-range planning where values and institutions act together. It suggests that global dialogue benefits from places where memory and responsibility meet without conflict.

Nicaea does not present solutions. It provides a framework where solutions become possible. For contemporary diplomacy, this may be its greatest contribution. A quiet moment becomes a stable foundation. A historic city becomes a modern point of connection. And a visit shaped by restraint becomes a clear signal that cooperation can grow from shared origins, even in a complex and fragmented world.

A lot of people return home for the Thanksgiving weekend. But for Corey Perry, Friday’s homecoming was more than a little bit awkward.

One of the most decorated players in Ducks’ history, Perry was greeted by a smattering of boos when he wore a Kings’ sweater into the Honda Center for the first time. Two hours later he left, carrying the sting of a Ducks’ victory that saw his old team rally from deficits three times before winning the first Freeway Faceoff of the season 5-4 in a shootout.

“Great comeback,” said winger Chris Kreider, whose second-period power-play goal got the Ducks started. “A good job of fighting back. It’s definitely a confident feeling.”

Leo Carlsson, who suffered through two dismal losing seasons during the long post-Perry rebuild in Anaheim, had two assists and the game-tying goal with 91 seconds left in regulation for the Ducks, who trailed 4-2 with less than 10 minutes to play.

The Kings’ Jacob Moverare blocks a pass from Duck Mason McTavish (23) to Beckett Sennecke (45) Friday at the Honda Center.

(Harry How/Getty Images)

“It’s a different team,” Carlsson said. “Hungry. Different mentality, too. So it’s been great so far season.”

Only Ryan Getzlaf has played more games for the Ducks then Perry, who left Anaheim in 2019 after 14 seasons, beginning an aimless tour of the NHL that saw him play for five teams before signing a free-agent contract with the Kings last summer.

The Ducks haven’t posted a winning record since he departed.

But after Friday’s victory they lead the division and are off to their best start in more than a decade. The Ducks are second in the Western Conference in wins (15), second in the NHL in goals (89), fourth in the conference in points (31) and were tied for fourth in points (31). For Carlsson, meanwhile, his 13th goal and 19th and 20th assists of the season Friday left 20, is tied for fourth in the league with 33 points.

The Ducks’ other scores Friday came from Olen Zellweger in the second period and Pavel Mintyukov in the third.

The Kings’ scores came Alex Laferriere, Kevin Fiala, Alex Turcotte and Joel Edmundson. With the point they earned by taking the game to overtime, the Kings headed back up the freeway Friday afternoon second in the Pacific Division, two points behind the Ducks.

The Kings’ Corey Perry looks on during the second period against the Ducks at the Honda Center on Thursday.

(Debora Robinson/NHLI via Getty Images)

And, surprisingly, they have Perry to thank for that.

“He’s a massive piece for us right now,” center Philip Danault said. “He’s not the fastest guy on the ice but he’s so smart. He goes into the crease, he gets goals. He gets in the opponent’s head.

“He’s probably one of the big reasons we’re winning.”

Since leaving Anaheim, Perry has come off the visitors’ bench at the Honda Center several times. So Friday’s game wasn’t necessarily one he had circled on his calendar.

“It was home,” he said before the game. “I have nothing but tremendous things to say.”

After missing the start of the season following knee surgery, Perry was activated last month on the same day captain Anze Kopitar was placed on injured reserve with a foot injury. And he immediately took up the slack, scoring the first of his seven goals — good for second on the team — in his second game. He also has six assists, is fourth on the team with 13 points and is averaging more than 14 minutes of ice time just the second time since he left Anaheim.

“You know, it’s fun,” said Perry, who is nearly halfway to his point total of a season ago. “This is what we do for a living.”

Perry, 40, is the third-oldest player in the NHL. But with a Stanley Cup, an MVP award, a goal-scoring title and two Olympic gold medals in his trophy case, he has a resume few players can match. Yet the Ducks bought out the final two seasons and $8.625 million of his contract in 2019, part of a rebuild that has seen the franchise go through three coaches and three general managers without posting a winning record.

“Now it’s seven years later. I don’t know anybody on the team,” Perry said of the Ducks, who have the second-youngest roster in the Western Conference. “It’s turned over so much that it’s a new group.”

Ducks center Mason McTavish scores the winning goal during a shootout of against the Kings on Friday at the Honda Center.

(William Liang/AP)

And new coach Joel Quenneville, who has a history of coaching success with young players, has that new group playing with confidence.

“We’re never going to give up,” said Carlsson, one of six Ducks younger than 23. “That’s the mentality.”

Laferriere got the scoring started late in the first period, parking himself in front of the goal and banging the puck past Ducks’ goalie Ville Husso, who made two big saves in the shootout.

Kreider tied it seconds into a power play midway through the second period, then Fiala and Zellweger exchanged goals just 59 seconds apart to send the teams into the second intermission tied 2-2.

Turcotte’s first goal of the season on a tip-in put the Kings back in front early in the third period before Edmundson doubled the lead on a slap shot from outside the right faceoff circle. He was helped by Perry’s presence in front of the goal, screening Husso on the shot.

The Kings wouldn’t score again though, allowing the Ducks to force overtime on goals from Mintyukov and Carlsson, who game-tying score came after his team pulled Husso to get an extra attacker.

“It was fun,” McTavish said of his first Freeway Faceoff matinee, which drew a sellout crowd of 17,174. “It was loud. There was a lot of energy in the building. So it was a ton of fun, and obviously more fun to come away with both points.”

BBC

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‘Was it as glamorous as it looked? No!’

ITV/ Shutterstock

‘I had no idea why I picked Sue – it was just eenie meeny miny moe’

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‘Blind Date Wedding of the Year’

Handout/Alex and Sue Tatham

ITV/ Shutterstock

‘I am just lucky to have picked her’

Handout/Alex and Sue Tatham

The 7th African Union (AU) and European Union (EU) summit in Luanda, Angola, signaled support for Africa’s development in the coming years. Angolan President João Manuel Gonçalves Lourenço hosted the summit on 24-25 November 2025. The unique discussions between African and European leaders and the various partnering organizations underlined invaluable guarantees to undertake opportunities for strengthening long-term economic, cultural, and political ties in the continent.

Chairperson of the AU Commission, Mahmoud Ali Youssouf, at the 7th AU-EU summit in Luanda, underscored that Africa brings not only vast resources to this partnership but also demographic dynamism, technological ambition, and a vibrant generation of innovators. Europe can contribute capital, technology, and institutional cooperation. By aligning these strengths around shared priorities that include digital transformation and youth empowerment, both continents can shape a more prosperous future.

According to Mahmoud Youssouf, Africa is emerging as a global growth powerhouse and therefore calls for balanced trade partnerships and stronger multilateralism with members of the European Union.

South African President Cyril Ramaphosa, who chaired the G20 Leaders’ Summit, the first to be convened on African soil since the African Union became a permanent member of the G20, highlighted economic growth and job creation while stressing the importance of stronger economic ties and regional integration with European partners.

In their speeches at the Summit, President of the European Commission Ursula von der Leyen and President of the European Council António Costa shared the development visions for the African continent and the financial mechanisms reaffirming commitment to the Joint Vision for 2030 and the AU’s Agenda 2063. These are implemented under the framework of the EU’s Global Gateway.

Shaping the future for Africa and Europe

The AU and EU adopted a joint declaration that reinforces cooperation in significant thematic areas, including peace, security, sustainable development, and regional integration. It also outlines an institutional structure and funding mechanisms for key actionable areas within a long-term framework for cooperation.

In the adopted document, the EU reassured its support for Africa’s development priorities, determined to advance partnership and to unlock new opportunities, and looked forward to an ambitious post-Agenda 2030 framework.

Leveraging public and private funds to stimulate investments and improving investment and business climate across the continents remain key and reaffirm commitment to ensuring the transformative impact of these investments. It identified financial institutions, in particular the European Investment Bank (EIB), the African Development Bank (AfDB), and public development banks, agencies, and similar bodies for providing finance.

The EU guarantees to continue supporting African countries to develop, industrialize, diversify exports, and integrate into regional markets. It will also accelerate the implementation of the African Continental Free Trade Area (AfCFTA).

In terms of investing in education, research, science, technology, and skills development as a basis for driving scientific discoveries and innovative solutions, the EU acknowledged the importance of the youth as drivers for sustainable development and committed to supporting their empowerment and active participation. Therefore, the EU promised partnerships between universities and research organizations to foster mutual understanding and excellence.

Cooperation on Peace, Security, and Governance

There has been long-standing AU-EU cooperation on peace, security, and governance, including conflict prevention, peace mediation, and stabilization, premised on African-led solutions. Both the AU and EU agreed on a commitment to further strengthening dialogue and cooperation, including through the annual consultations between the AU Peace and Security Council and EU Political and Security Committee as well as the annual AU-EU Human Rights Dialogue.

Acting under a UN mandate, the EU pledged sustainable financing for AU-led Peace Support Operations. The document recognizes the African Union Peace and Security Council’s and the European Union Political and Security Committee’s contribution to the maintenance of peace, security, and stability in both continents and in promoting effective governance, and we welcome the AU’s efforts to silence the guns in Africa in line with Aspiration 4 of the AU Agenda 2063.

Stronger Commitment to Multilateralism

Both the AU and EU agreed to work towards more converging positions in multilateral fora to ensure an effective multilateral system with the UN at its core, based on international law and true to the purposes and principles of the UN Charter.

The Summit welcomed the contributions from the meetings of the European Parliament and the Pan-African Parliament in Midrand, South Africa. It encourages continued engagement of all relevant stakeholders in advancing the partnership. It finally registered joint commitment to international order based on international law and effective multilateralism grounded in international law, including the Charter of the United Nations.

The African Union and the European Union expressed profound gratitude to the President of the Republic of Angola, João Manuel Gonçalves Lourenço, and to the Angolan Government and people for the warm reception, hospitality, and excellent organization of the 7th AU-EU Summit.

When South Africa opens the 2025 G20 Summit on November 22nd in Cape Town, the meeting will not simply be another high-level diplomatic gathering. It will be a test of what global leadership looks like in an era defined by debt crises, climate shocks, and geopolitical fragmentation. It will also be a summit shaped as much by who is present as by who is absent.

For the first time since leaders began to regularly attend the G20, the United States is not expected to attend at the presidential level. That absence will hang heavily over a summit built around three themes that South Africa has placed at the core of its G20 hosting: solidarity, equality, and sustainability. This is not symbolic branding. These are principles that directly challenge the structure and priorities of the current international system and America’s decision not to participate will only magnify their political weight.

South Africa’s Vision for a More Equal Order

South Africa has been clear about what it wants this G20 to represent. The country’s diplomats have framed the summit as an opportunity to “rebalance global governance” and restore trust between advanced economies and the Global South. That begins with solidarity, not as a moral appeal but as a practical necessity in a world where the gaps in competition are tightening across virtually every sector.

South African officials have emphasized that the world is too interconnected, through supply chains, energy markets, debt exposures, and climate shocks, for any nation to pursue growth alone. Solidarity, in their framing, means shared responsibility for global risks and shared input into global rules.

Expect to see debt restructuring as a key component of the weekend. Dozens of low and middle-income countries are approaching insolvency. Many see the G20 as the only venue capable of compelling creditors, including China, Western banks, and the IMF to negotiate jointly. South Africa intends to push for more predictable mechanisms, faster timelines, and deeper reductions of overall debt.

The theme of equality is expected to be even more pointed. Pretoria has argued that the international financial system remains structurally biased. Voting power at the IMF does not reflect modern economic reality. Climate finance packages distribute risk upward and accountability downward. Supply chain standards reflect the priorities of wealthy states far more than those of producing states.

South Africa wants this summit to pressure advanced economies to move beyond incrementalism and to recognize developing nations as cooperators, not beneficiaries, of global economic design.

Sustainability as an Economic Imperative

As noted in the central theme of the summit, sustainability is the key talking point of the weekend. South Africa is expected to focus on climate adaptation financing, food security resilience, renewable infrastructure gaps, green industrialization, and the economic displacement climate change is already causing.

Pretoria’s message is blunt: sustainability is not the environmental chapter of the global economy, it is the global economy. The safeguards nations build today will determine whether their populations can withstand the shocks of the coming decade.

The Symbolism of America’s Absence

While the summit’s themes are forward-looking, the headlines thus far are dominated by one glaring issue; The United States is boycotting the event, and not sending a single delegate.

This absence is certainly meant to be received as a bold statement. In a moment when most of the global agenda is being rewritten around solidarity, shared burdens, debt relief, and climate vulnerability, the United States is choosing not to stand at the table.

Many delegations will read this as confirmation of what they already suspected: that the U.S. is prioritizing bilateral leverage and transactional deals over multilateral governance. In other words, America is choosing power over partnership.

That decision will have ripple effects. If Washington is not present to influence the language of solidarity or the scope of sustainability targets, other powers will be. The U.S. forfeits not only visibility, but the ability to shape norms that will define the next phase of global cooperation. The strongman tactic will prove less effective as the world continues to accelerate towards a multipolar world, as opposed to a unipolar order where D.C. stands above the rest.

China and India Eager to Fill the Vacuum

China is expected to enter the summit with a confident posture, despite Xi Jinping not attending. Beijing has spent the past several years positioning itself as the Global South’s premier development partner. A G20 centered around equality and solidarity aligns perfectly with China’s messaging: that it represents a more inclusive, less conditional model of global cooperation. This message will be even more prominent with an absentee America. To capitalize on the overall theme of moving away from Western dominated structures, it would be reasonable to assume that many lending systems denominated in the Yuan will be discussed on the sidelines.

India, meanwhile, will frame itself as the democratic partner of choice for developing economies. Expect New Delhi to emphasize supply chain diversification, digital equality, and climate-resilient infrastructure. India will also push for greater representation of Global South nations in multilateral institutions, a message that will resonate strongly in Africa and Southeast Asia.

Europe Attempts to Lead

European leaders will arrive prepared to engage deeply on sustainability and climate finance, but without Washington their influence will be limited. Europe cannot match America’s financial firepower nor China’s development machinery.

While Europeans tend to embrace the rhetoric of solidarity, they remain cautious about large-scale debt forgiveness, new climate financing mandates, and reforms that would dilute their institutional voting power. That tension prevents Europe from presenting itself as the natural successor to U.S. leadership, but rather an extension of it in the eyes of many developing nations.

A Summit That Signals a Changing Global Order

If South Africa succeeds in shaping the weekend around solidarity, equality, and sustainability, the summit could represent the most significant shift in G20 philosophy since its creation.

Tomorrow’s G20 will not be remembered for dramatic breakthroughs. It will be remembered for something subtler but more consequential; a turning point in global governance where the United States stepped back and the rest of the world showed it could step forward.

In October 2025, a group of powerful states attempted to do in a few days what fifty years of occupation, war and repression had failed to achieve: close the file of Western Sahara in Morocco’s favour at the UN Security Council.

Using diplomatic blitzkrieg tactics, Morocco’s allies pushed a strongly pro-Moroccan “zero draft” resolution that they hoped to pass as a fait accompli. Had it gone through unchanged, Western Sahara would have been pushed closer toward erasure as a decolonisation question and recast as an internal Moroccan matter.

Instead, on 31 October 2025, the Council adopted Resolution 2797. Far from rubber-stamping Morocco’s claims, the final text reaffirmed every previous Security Council resolution on Western Sahara and restated an essential truth: any political solution must be just, mutually acceptable and consistent with the purposes and principles of the UN Charter, including the right of the Sahrawi people to self-determination.

Several Council members pushed back against the original US-circulated draft, which had aligned closely with Morocco’s position. Their amendments restored the text to the legal framework that has governed this issue for decades. The result is not perfect, but it is unmistakable: Western Sahara remains an unfinished decolonisation process. It is not a settled dispute, and it is not Morocco’s to absorb.

Had the Council endorsed the early draft, it would have risked becoming a 21st-century version of the Berlin Conference, a chamber where great powers redraw Africa’s map without Africans present. In 1884–85, European states divided a continent in ways that still shape its borders. The danger today is subtler but no less serious: that the future of Western Sahara might once again be written in foreign ink, this time on UN letterhead.

Western Sahara in International Law: An Unfinished decolonisation

Legally, Western Sahara’s status is unambiguous. It remains listed by the UN as a Non-Self-Governing Territory, one of the last awaiting decolonisation. International law recognises the Sahrawi people as possessing an inalienable right to self-determination and independence.

When Spain withdrew in 1975, it failed to organise the required act of self-determination. Instead, it divided the territory between Morocco and Mauritania. Mauritania later withdrew; Morocco did not. Its military occupation sparked a long war with the Sahrawi liberation movement, the Frente Polisario.

The 1991 UN-brokered ceasefire created MINURSO, the UN Mission for the Referendum in Western Sahara. The mission’s very name is a reminder of the international commitment made: a referendum in which Sahrawis would choose between independence and integration with Morocco. That referendum has never taken place.

Today, around 200,000 Sahrawis remain in refugee camps near Tindouf, Algeria, waiting in harsh conditions for the vote they were promised. In the occupied territory, Sahrawis face systematic repression and severe constraints on political expression. Yet they remain the only people with no seat at the table where their future is being debated.

Autonomy and the Logic of Conquest

The current situation cannot be understood without the US administration’s 2020 recognition of “Moroccan sovereignty over the entire Western Sahara territory” in exchange for Morocco’s normalisation with Israel. This reversed decades of US adherence to UN-led self-determination and signalled that territorial questions could once again be traded as diplomatic currency.

Support for Morocco’s autonomy proposal is the political expression of that bargain. Marketed as a pragmatic compromise, it is predicated on accepting Moroccan sovereignty upfront, removing independence from consideration and redefining self-determination as ratification of annexation. A solution that excludes independence is not self-determination. It is the formalisation of conquest.

Those who insist that independence is “unrealistic” are elevating raw power above law. As scholars such as Stephen Zunes have warned, accepting autonomy as the final settlement would mark an unprecedented moment: the international community would be endorsing the expansion of a state’s territory by force after 1945. Every aspiring land-grabber on the planet would take note.

This argument that diplomacy must conform to power rather than principle dresses surrender up as pragmatism. “Realism” that ignores law and rights is not realism; it is complicity. The entire post-1945 legal order was built to end the idea that war and annexation are acceptable methods of drawing borders. Undermining that norm in Western Sahara does not make the world safer; it normalises the very behaviour many of these same states claim to oppose elsewhere.

A proposal is not a peace plan. A “solution” written by one side and handed to the other as the only acceptable outcome is not a negotiation — it is an ultimatum for surrender.

A Call to President Trump: A chance to stand on the Right Side of History

There is still time, and still a path, for the United States to reclaim a constructive role in resolving this conflict. For President Donald Trump in particular, the question of Western Sahara offers a rare opportunity to stand on the right side of history, to uphold the very Wilsonian principle of self-determination that the United States once championed, and to return American policy to its long-standing position of neutrality and respect for international law.

For decades, Republican and Democratic administrations alike supported a UN-led process and recognised Western Sahara as a decolonisation question, not as a bargaining chip. Restoring that principled approach would not only correct the 2020 departure from US tradition, but would reaffirm the American commitment to a world where borders cannot be changed by force and where the rights of small nations are protected from the ambitions of larger ones.

If President Trump were to bring the United States back to its historical role, supporting a fair, just and lasting solution rooted in genuine self-determination, he would achieve something that eluded every administration before him. He would be remembered not as a participant in a geopolitical trade, but as the president who helped resolve one of the world’s longest-running and most clear-cut decolonisation cases. He would be remembered as the leader who chose law over expediency, principle over pressure, David over Goliath.

There is a rare chance here: to correct a historic wrong, to end a conflict that has defeated presidents, prime ministers and UN Secretaries-General, and to bring justice to a small, peaceful and long-suffering people. Standing with the Sahrawi right to self-determination is not only the moral choice; it is the choice that aligns the United States with its own ideals and its own stated values and ultimately its interests.

Anything else, any endorsement of the logic of conquest or any attempt to force a people to accept subjugation as “autonomy”, would be a political act that history will not forget, and the Sahrawi people will not forgive.

Call for International Solidarity

Behind every debate in New York are people living under occupation, in refugee camps and in exile, waiting for a vote they were promised decades ago. The Sahrawi people are not seeking special treatment. They are asking for the same right that helped dismantle colonial rule from Asia to Africa: the right of a people to freely determine their political future.

What was right for Timor and Namibia is right for Western Sahara.

History offers many examples of colonial powers that looked immovable until, suddenly, they were not. East Timor, Namibia, Eritrea, all show that no amount of repression or diplomatic engineering can extinguish a people’s demand for freedom. In each case, global civil society, more than great powers, ultimately helped shift the balance.

The Sahrawi people are determined to reclaim their homeland. Determination alone, however, cannot overcome tanks, drones, a 2,700-kilometre sand berm, prisons and diplomatic horse-trading. Stronger international solidarity is urgently needed—not only in support of a just cause, but in defence of the international system itself. The Sahrawi struggle today stands at the frontline of protecting both the right to self-determination and the principles on which the United Nations was built.

To stand with Western Sahara is to defend the rule that borders cannot be changed by force and that colonialism cannot be rebranded as “autonomy”. States that champion a “rules-based international order” should match their rhetoric with action: refuse to recognise Moroccan sovereignty; support a free and fair act of self-determination that includes independence; and ensure that UN resolutions are implemented rather than endlessly recycled.

Civil society and solidarity networks also have important roles to play, from advocacy to material support for Sahrawi institutions and refugee communities.

The Final Question

The UN Security Council is not mandated to rubber-stamp an illegal occupation and baptise it as decolonisation. Doing so would violate the UN Charter, particularly Article 24. Under the Charter and decolonisation law, the Council’s room for manoeuvre is constrained by the peremptory right of self-determination. It cannot lawfully override that foundational right. Article 24(2) requires the Council to act in accordance with the purposes of the Charter—including self-determination—and its decisions cannot derogate from jus cogens norms.

Decolonisation remains the only lawful path to ending this conflict. The core question is simple: does the international community still believe that peoples, especially colonised peoples, have the right to choose their own future? If the answer is yes, then sovereignty in Western Sahara remains, in law and in principle, with the Sahrawi people.

The map of Africa was once drawn in imperial ink. Whether Western Sahara remains the last stain of that era or becomes part of a different future depends on whether the world insists that decolonisation means what it says.

When we talk about conflict in a country, we usually think of war, crisis, violence, and so on. Of course, these conflicts are crucial phenomena and need to be discussed. The civil war in Sudan is no exception. Sudan has been a country experiencing a humanitarian crisis since the military clashes in 2023. There are strong allegations of foreign interference through illicit funding, which has exacerbated this crisis. This issue is important to address because it shows that transnational societies are not always glorified as positive entities and that globalization can be an instrument contributing to the suffering of the Sudanese people.

The crisis in Sudan was sparked by a power struggle between the government military, the Sudan Armed Forces (SAF), led by General Abdel Fattah al-Burhan, and the Rapid Support Forces (RSF), led by Mohammed Hamdan Dagalo. Initially, the two military groups were allied to overthrow the regime of President Omar Al-Bashir, but disagreements arose over how to integrate their respective forces. Suspicion arose on both sides, leading to fierce fighting on April 15, 2023. The capital, Khartoum, suffered extensive damage, and the fighting spread, displacing more than 3 million people across the country and abroad. (Prayuda, Syafrana, Sundari, Shiddiqy, & Riau, 2024) 

Given the complexity of the Sudanese conflict, the author views the Sudanese conflict as a concrete illustration of how transnational society and globalization can give rise to new contradictions: promising interconnectedness and collaboration across borders, while simultaneously giving rise to networks that exacerbate humanitarian crises. The author analyzes the Sudanese conflict based on the concepts of transnational networks and shadow globalization. This paper focuses not only on domestic phenomena but also involves various non-state actors. Thus, the author is guided by three arguments, namely: first, how the transnational network strengthens the conflict so that the conflict has been organized to the global level; second, how globalization becomes a tool for illegal flows, thus triggering ongoing violence; and third, how the presence of transnational networks and shadow globalization makes the Sudanese conflict not only related to domestic affairs but also a global responsibility due to complex interdependence.

The Sudanese conflict has involved transnational actors who play a role as suppliers of weapons and illegal funding for the warring factions. A report from Amnesty (2024) asserts that “the conflict in Sudan is being fueled by a constant flow of weapons into the country,” originating from China, the UAE, and Turkey. Anti-material rifles, jammer drones, and mortars made in China; armored personnel carriers (APTs) from the UAE; hundreds of thousands of blank firearms from Turkey; and variants of civilian light weapons from Russia have provided external support for both parties in the conflict. All this data clearly shows that national borders are no barrier to the export of violence. Brokers, military contractors, and sponsoring states continue to supply weapons, ultimately providing them with ammunition for war. In other words, the Sudanese conflict could transform into a global war, with transnational communities acting as intermediaries in supplying weapons and interests across borders.

The role of transnational networks is the reason why the Sudanese conflict is difficult to stop. When supply A is blocked, another supply emerges. In the concept of transnational networks, “Transnational networks are webs of interactions that connect actors across national borders for the exchange of resources, information, or influence” (Keck & Sikkink, 1999), so these cross-border non-state actors are independent and not controlled by national governments. Reporting from France 24, according to Sudanese officials themselves, there are sources of mining industry and Swissaid research; almost all of Sudan’s gold flows to the UAE through official trade routes, smuggling, and direct Emirati ownership. This certainly provides funding for the warring armies to purchase new weapons.

Amidst the rapid flow of globalization, we cannot ignore shadow globalization. This concept describes how aspects of the illicit economy are transforming from the domestic sphere into transnational networks operating under official auspices, thus giving rise to mutually beneficial relationships between markets and criminal groups. According to Peter Lock (2005), when countries reduce regulations and begin to open their economies as part of neoliberal globalization, this actually allows criminal agents and groups to move freely in the global sphere, for example, through money laundering or illicit trade. There is a strong suspicion of the misuse of legal economic activities, ultimately leading to illegal objectives that violate international law. Thus, shadow globalization is the dark side of globalization because it operates in accordance with legitimate global flows.

Sudan possesses abundant natural resources, including oil, gas, and gold reserves, but these resources are diverted through illegal cross-border channels. A report from Illicit Financial Flows (IFFs) indicates that the country lost approximately US$5.7 billion between 2012 and 2018 due to illicit activities, particularly in the gold and oil resources sectors. (Integrity, 2024).  There are strong indications that funds intended for the benefit of the Sudanese people are instead being diverted to fund armed groups. More broadly, a 2020 UNCTAD report also stated that Africa loses approximately US$50 billion annually to illicit financial flows. This aligns with other reports that define illicit financial flows as funds whose origin, transfer, or use are illegal (In, 2020). Comprehensively, globalization can be an instrument of the shadow economy to support the ongoing violence in Sudan.

The situation in Sudan demonstrates that global structures are interdependent. Connectedness through technology, economics, politics, and security forces has erased national borders. Consequently, the decisions of actors, both formal and informal, influence other countries. Transnational networks and shadow globalization have transcended national borders through financial flows, arms trade, and gold, which have entered global markets and indirectly implicated external actors. Consequently, dependencies created by globalization impact economic stability, security, and humanitarianism.

Global responsibility is questionable, as the assumption that the conflict in Sudan is solely domestic is a misleading narrative. Every actor involved behind the scenes must recognize their moral responsibility for the profits derived from this conflict, for example, through the trade in gold, oil, and arms. According to a report by Chatham House (2023), the Sudanese conflict has a strong transnational dimension due to the involvement of Gulf states and global markets in the war economy. Furthermore, UNCTAD (2020) has confirmed that illicit financial flows in Africa have resulted in the loss of billions of dollars that could have been used for development and stability. Therefore, if globalization is understood as a global realm connecting all actors, the authors strongly argue that stability must be seen as a shared responsibility.

The three arguments above demonstrate that the Sudanese conflict can no longer be viewed as a domestic issue. The role of transnational networks and shadow globalization clearly illustrates how globalization fosters openness to cross-border cooperation but also opens up illicit flows of funds, weapons, and resources that exacerbate conflict. Furthermore, the concept of complex interdependence explains how the actions of one actor impact others. Therefore, the Sudanese conflict is a moral and political responsibility of the international community. Globalization has bound countries in interdependent relationships, so achieving stability must be seen as a shared project of the entire global community. With this awareness, the world is expected to view conflicts like Sudan as a real test of global solidarity and humanity.

Therefore, any findings regarding foreign funding and the involvement of global actors in the Sudanese conflict require further reporting. This article is not intended to marginalize any particular party but rather to open up space for reflection on the fact that amidst globalization, the boundaries between local and global interests are increasingly blurred. This relevance reminds us that the Sudanese conflict is not merely a spectacle but rather a mirror for shared humanitarian responsibility.

In an era of global polarization and escalating crises, the promise of a Feminist Foreign Policy (FFP) has emerged as a beacon of progressive change. Yet, a troubling paradox lies at its heart: while political support holds steady, the financial backbone of the movement—women’s rights organizations—faces a “life-threatening” funding crisis. In an exclusive multi-respondent Q&A, experts from the Feminist Foreign Policy Collaborative—Katie Whipkey, Spogmay Ahmed, and Beth Woroniuk—break down the alarming data from their latest report and outline the path from minimalist commitments to a truly transformative global agenda.

1. The Rhetoric-Reality Gap: A “Life-Threatening” Divide

Your report’s data reveals a world where support for FFP is growing, yet funding for women’s rights organizations is in “urgent alarm.” How do you explain this gap?

Katie Whipkey: The report found that feminist foreign policy is not experiencing the rollback that we might have expected during this time of deep polarization and gender backlash. However, to say that it is growing may not be quite right—the interest is holding steady. That gives us a lot of hope. FFP has enabled governments to double down on existing commitments to gender equality in multilateral spaces and push for more gender-inclusive language. However, when it comes to the tougher structural issues like funding, especially for non-traditional funding targets such as women’s rights organizations (WROs), we see a gap. The brash reduction in Official Development Assistance (ODA) and the continually miniscule funding for WROs is alarming. ODA dropped 9% in 2024 and is predicted to fall up to 17% in 2025. Many of the biggest ODA donors are FFP governments, and they are cutting development budgets while simultaneously increasing military spending. This is life-threatening as 90% of WROs in crisis contexts report disrupted operations due to funding cuts. So what we see is that gender equality has been better rhetorically mainstreamed while remaining fiscally marginalized.

Beth Woroniuk: This gap is not new. There has always been a huge divide between the statements of support for gender equality on the part of the development assistance donors, and their actual support for women’s rights organizations. Between 2014 and 2023, just 0.1 per cent of ODA reached women’s rights and women-led organisations directly. Another example: financing to support the implementation of the women, peace and security agenda has ‘failed to match the scale of the challenge.’ The hope was that countries with feminist foreign policies would start to reverse this trend. And we saw this start to happen. Unfortunately this momentum is threatened by the current trend to slash development assistance budgets.

2. Resisting Backlash: The Second Generation of FFP

We’ve seen high-profile FFP abandonments in Europe and the Americas. Where are you seeing the most effective resistance to this backlash, and what does that resistance look like on the ground?

Katie Whipkey: Resistance to backlash takes several forms. Perhaps the single strongest form is from within through institutionalization of as many elements of FFP as possible. When we move away from political feminism—declarations or speeches that can be reversed overnight—and toward institutional feminism—incorporating inclusive and responsive policy into laws, budgets, bureaucracies, and diplomatic culture—we have a chance to stave off conservative pushback. This is the second generation of FFP, where the architecture outlasts the architects. The report identifies five mechanisms for institutionalization: policy, through legislative or administrative provisions; architecture, through dedicated departments; budgetary, through earmarked funds; leadership, through dedicated high-level roles; and capacity, through staff training. Resistance also looks like feminist bureaucrats and civil servants quietly keeping feminist norms alive through budget tagging and gender audits even when political leadership changes.

Spogmay Ahmed: While our report identifies FFP abandonments across Europe and the Americas, it also points out that engagement in FFP discourse—primarily by civil society—has deepened and diversified. For example, our own Global Partner Network for Feminist Foreign Policy has grown from 14 to over 100 partners. Over the past few years, regional networks have launched and expanded. Likewise, academic coverage has greatly increased. While there is no shortage of skepticism, our report demonstrates that interest has persisted, evolved and broadened. That too is one form of resistance.

3. Following the Money: Where Gender-Focused Aid Really Goes

The data shows FFP countries give more gender-focused aid, but the actual amount reaching women’s rights organizations is “miniscule.” Where is the money actually going, and how can it be redirected?

Beth Woroniuk: Development assistance that is counted as ‘gender focused’ supports a wide variety of goals and is provided to governments, international organizations, private sector companies, and NGOs. The vast majority of this funding is for projects that have just one component that supports gender equality, while a small percentage supports projects that directly target gender equality objectives. Traditionally, women’s rights organizations have been seen as too small and too risky to be chosen as key ‘implementors.’ In recent years, new mechanisms have emerged to address these challenges. For example, women’s and feminist funds have mobilized both development assistance and philanthropic resources to provide core, flexible, and predictable funding. These funds allow bilateral assistance entities to reduce the high transaction costs involved in providing multiple small grants.

4. Protecting Resources: A Political Choice

The report’s 5R framework highlights “Resources” as a key pillar. With major donors cutting Official Development Assistance (ODA), how can FFP countries practically “ring-fence” and protect funding for gender equality?

Beth Woroniuk: Protecting development assistance funding for gender equality is a political choice. When ODA budgets are cut, choices have to be made about what programmes are reduced or eliminated. At this moment, governments have an opportunity to say ‘we stand for gender equality and we will not cut these strategic investments.

5. Signature Initiatives: Funding Models That Work

The reports mention “signature initiatives” that partner directly with civil society. What is one concrete example of a funding model that is successfully getting resources to feminist movements?

Spogmay Ahmed: In our report, we outline a few of these ‘signature initiatives,’ such as France’s Support Fund for Feminist Organizations, which is allocated EUR 250 million over five years. Similarly, Canada invested CAD 300 million in the Equality Fund. We point to the Equality Fund as a powerful example of ‘institutionalizing’ feminist foreign policy; by making a large early investment, Canada helped ensure the Fund’s continued global impact.

Beth Woroniuk: These ‘signature’ initiatives all respond to calls from feminist activists to both increase investments in gender equality and change the terms on which this money flows – focusing more on feminist movements and providing more flexible funding.

6. The Power of Regional Partnerships

Beyond money, how are regional partnerships, like the one between Chile and Mexico, proving to be a powerful tool for advancing FFP goals?

Spogmay Ahmed: Our report recognizes a marked increase in regional cooperation. We see this primarily through a rise in ‘South-South’ cooperation efforts. One example is Chile and Mexico institutionalizing their FFP partnership through a memorandum of understanding on FFP, diplomatic training and Indigenous cooperation. Through such partnerships, governments are able to share learnings, strengthen collaboration, and collectively push for gender equality and human rights.

7. True Partnership: Beyond Writing Checks

The report recommends that FFP countries “ally with women’s and feminist funds.” What does a true, equitable partnership look like in practice, beyond just writing a cheque?

Katie Whipkey: We see that true, equitable partnership is grounded in co-creation and power-sharing. It means shifting from donor-recipient models to structures based on shared decision-making. Practically, this looks like feminist groups being involved in decision-making about how funds are prioritized, distributed, and evaluated. Feminists from the Majority World would be viewed and valued as knowledge experts. It also means long-term, core funding that enables spending on administrative and political work – not just service delivery.

Beth Woroniuk: Most development assistance projects are highly bureaucratic. Women’s and feminist funds are rooted in and accountable to feminist movements. Working together as thought partners, co-creators, and innovators are promising examples of changing out-dated structures.

8. Learning from Outliers

The report notes that some non-FFP countries invest a greater percentage in gender equality than FFP countries. What can FFP champions learn from these outliers?

Beth Woroniuk: One of the lessons from the report is that you don’t have to have an FFP to invest development assistance in gender equality. There are countries supporting key initiatives who haven’t adopted this label. So one lesson is that all countries can boost their gender equality ODA investments. There can be feminist champions doing solid work, without the feminist label.

9. One Action for Real Commitment

If you could tell the leaders of the remaining FFP countries one thing they must do in the next year to prove their commitment is real, what would it be?

Spogmay Ahmed: Strengthen feminist principles across all areas of foreign policy. This brings us back to the ‘Reach’ in our global framework. I would encourage leaders to broaden the scope and application of their feminist foreign policies, as well as their ambition.

Katie Whipkey: Institutionalize. We need to guarantee our gains by legislating what we know works, including protecting staffing and training budgets, providing direct funding to women’s rights organizations, and mandating regular publishing of transparent progress reports.

Beth Woroniuk: I would encourage countries with FFPs to reach out and engage civil society organizations. Yes, activists are often critical, yet they are also an enormous source of strength and creativity. These relationships can be sources of inspiration, expertise, and accountability.

From Pledge to Power: The Road Ahead

The insights from Katie Whipkey, Spogmay Ahmed, and Beth Woroniuk paint a clear picture: the future of Feminist Foreign Policy depends on closing the gap between rhetoric and resources. While institutionalization and civil society partnerships offer hope, true progress requires political courage—to protect funding, share power with grassroots movements, and extend feminist principles across all areas of foreign policy. As Whipkey powerfully notes, “In a time of backlash, we need courage.” The stakes could not be higher, but neither could the resolve of those fighting for a foreign policy that serves all of humanity.

PARIS — Salim Toorabally’s mental scars from the Paris terror attacks 10 years ago have not healed with time and the images of that night at Stade de France remain indelible.

The November 2015 attacks began at France’s national stadium and spread across the city in assaults that killed 132 people and injured more than 400. One person died and least 14 were injured outside Stade de France that night, but casualties there could have been far heavier without Toorabally’s vigilance.

It was Toorabally who stopped Bilal Hadfi — one of the three terrorist bombers who targeted the national stadium when France’s soccer team played Germany — from getting inside.

Toorabally was praised for his actions, by then-President François Hollande, by the Interior Ministry and also by the general public. Yet his own suffering, unrelenting since that night, went unnoticed.

“I was seen more as a hero than as a victim,” Toorabally told the Associated Press in a recent interview. “But this part of being a victim is equally inside me.”

Later on Thursday, France played Ukraine in a World Cup qualifier at the Parc des Princes stadium in Paris, where a commemoration was planned and Toorabally was invited by the French Football Federation.

“I will be there but with a heavy heart,” he said. “Ten years have passed like it was yesterday we were attacked.”

Stopping the bomber

Toorabally was positioned at Gate L as a stadium security agent.

Hadfi tried to enter but was stopped by Toorabally when he spotted him trying to tailgate another fan through the turnstile.

“A young man showed up. He was sticking close behind someone, moving forward without showing his ticket. So I said to him, ‘Sir, where are you going? Show me your ticket.’ But he just kept going, he wasn’t listening to me,” Toorabally told the AP. “So I put my arm out, put my arm in front of him so he couldn’t go inside, and then he said to me, ‘I have to get in, I have to get in.’ It made me suspicious.”

Toorabally kept an eye on the 20-year-old Hadfi, who was now standing back a few yards away.

“He positioned himself right in front of me, he was watching me work and I alerted [fellow security agents] over the radio: ‘Be careful at every gate, there’s a young man dressed in black with a young face, very childlike, who is trying to get in. Do not let him in,’” Toorabally recalled. ”He stood in front of me for about 10 minutes, watching me work, and that’s when I got really scared. I was worried he’d go back in, that I wouldn’t see him. I watched him intently, he stared at me intently and suddenly he disappeared in the crowd, he slipped away.”

Toorabally’s warning worked. Hadfi was denied entry elsewhere, before later detonating his explosive vest.

The explosions

There were two explosions close together during the first half of the match; the first ones around 9:20 p.m. near Gate D, and a third explosion approaching 10 p.m. close to a fast food outlet.

Toorabally vividly remembers them.

“I could feel the floor shaking,” he said. “There was a burning smell rising into the air, different to the smell of [smoke] flares.”

He also tended to a wounded man that night.

“I took charge of him, I lay the individual down. He had like these bolts [pieces of metal] lodged in his thigh,” said Toorabally, who still speaks to the man today. “I looked at my hands, there was blood. I didn’t have gloves on, and there were pieces of flesh in my hands.”

Keeping fans in the dark

Toorabally said he and other security agents were told not to inform spectators of the attack, to prevent a potential situation where 80,000 people tried leaving at the same time.

“The supporters inside couldn’t know the Stade de France had been attacked otherwise it would have caused enormous panic,” Toorabally explained. “At halftime some fans came up to us and asked, ‘What happened? Was there a gas explosion at the restaurants in front of the stadium?’ We didn’t answer them so as not to cause panic.”

After the game the stadium announcer told spectators which exit gates to use and many went home by train, including Toorabally.

Traumatic images

Five days after the attack he was called to a police station to help identify Hadfi as one of the bombers. Toorabally was given no forewarning of what he was about to see.

“They showed me a photo, his [Hadfi’s] head was separated from his body. The forensic police [officer] was holding his head,” Toorabally said. “I formally recognized him. It was indeed the man who had been in front of me, who had stood there, who had been alive and was now lifeless.”

Hadfi’s face remains imprinted on Toorabally’s mind.

“The image is very violent, someone’s head separated from his body. Then there’s the explosion, the odor of burning and my hand filled with human flesh. These images have stayed in my mind for 10 years.”

Toorabally‘s wage that night was 40 euros ($46). “I suffer from post-traumatic stress, it is very severe, very violent.”

Horrific memories can appear at any moment.

“I could be with you and talking with you and then all of sudden my mind goes back there,” Toorabally said. “This is something very, very difficult to deal with. It handicaps you.”

Talking helps

Toorabally talks to a psychiatrist and says it helps to tell people about what happened. But at the time of the attacks and in the months afterward he received no psychological support.

“That’s how traumatism sets in,” Toorabally said. “The proof being it stayed 10 years.”

He dealt with his mental anguish alone, having potentially saved hundreds of lives.

“Every time I go back to the Stade de France, I can’t help thinking about it,” Hollande told L’Équipe newspaper. “I realize what could have happened if an attack had taken place inside the stadium, or if panic had gripped the crowd.”

Former France midfielder Blaise Matuidi called Toorabally “more than a hero” and added “if the terrorists had entered, what would have happened? Just talking about it gives me chills.”

Pugmire writes for the Associated Press.

These days, when politicians toss around the word “peace” like it’s going out of style, its real meaning has gotten pretty murky. Sometimes, peace isn’t about freeing people—it’s more like slapping a new kind of control on societies that are already hurting. Take the latest U.S. draft resolution to send an international stabilization force into Gaza, which they pitched to the UN Security Council. It sounds all nice with talk of stability, rebuilding, and keeping civilians safe, but if you dig a little deeper, you see the sneaky play of power and the drive to stay in charge. After all these years of fighting, blockades, and total destruction, the same folks who helped cause the mess are now stepping up like they’re the heroes here to fix it and watch over the peace. So, the big question pops up: Can a peace that’s forced by those in power really count as peace, or is it just a fancy label for keeping things the way they’ve always been—a calm on the outside, but underneath, it’s all about hanging onto inequality and the rules of who dominates whom? 

The U.S. draft seems like it’s trying to fill the security hole after a ceasefire and deal with the broken-down government setups in Gaza. But right from the start, in its opening parts, it’s obvious that the whole thing leans more on outside management of the crisis than on actual justice or letting Palestinians decide their own fate. Suggesting a two-year “International Stabilization Force” basically sets up something that feels a lot like an occupation, where the key choices get yanked away from the people on the ground. This kind of top-down approach, what experts in international relations call “peace from above,” has bombed time and again because it doesn’t build up the local ability to bounce back—instead, it locks in a reliance on foreign powers for politics and security. 

Another big problem is how this force is set up to be more about taking charge than just keeping an eye on things. Regular UN peacekeeping gigs are all about staying neutral and observing, but this U.S. version gives the green light to use force to “get the job done.” That change in wording—from peacekeeping to straight-up enforcement—shows how Washington wants to bend international groups to fit its own foreign policy goals. When a force like that can throw its weight around with coercion, it stops being about mediating and starts turning into

actual governing, making peace more about who has the muscle than about talking things out. 

The third sticking point is around political legitimacy and who gets to represent folks. Sure, the draft throws in mentions of a “transitional authority” or “peace council” to run Gaza for a bit, but it doesn’t lay out any real democratic way to pick who’s on it. In reality, this group would just be the paperwork side for the international troops, and at most, it’d represent Palestinians in name only. Looking at it through the lens of international law, this setup is dicey because it could stomp all over the idea of people ruling themselves, swapping it out for some kind of condescending oversight—kind of like what happened with those international setups in Kosovo and Bosnia after their wars. 

On the economic side, the rebuilding plan tucked into this thing doesn’t have much of a focus on fairness. The resolution hammers home how urgent it is to rebuild, but the ways to hand out the money and resources stay firmly in the grip of international committees that are tied financially and politically to Western governments. Instead of giving power back to Palestinian communities, this could just repeat the old “strings-attached aid” routine, where fixing things up becomes a way to pull political strings. In that setup, help with the economy isn’t really about growing or developing—it’s more like a tool for keeping society in line, turning the whole recovery process into something that controls people rather than mending what’s broken. 

Politically speaking, sidelining the nearby countries is another major flaw. Arab nations, who are right there geographically and share a lot culturally with the Gaza situation, only get a nod as backup players. This built-in shutout creates a bigger divide between what’s actually happening on the ground and where the decisions are being made, which hurts both how legitimate the mission looks and how well it might work. We’ve seen from history that when international efforts don’t have buy-in from the region, they usually flop because they miss the local nuances and push cookie-cutter policies instead of real back-and-forth conversations. 

From a humanitarian angle, the draft has drawn a ton of heat. Groups that watch out for human rights are sounding alarms that putting a force with wide military reach into such a shaky spot could ramp up the chances of abuses against regular people. The plan doesn’t spell out any solid way for independent checks or holding folks accountable if things go wrong. We’ve got examples from past UN operations in Africa and the Balkans showing that without those protections, you can end up with some serious ethical and human disasters. So, ironically, a plan that’s supposed to shield civilians might wind up putting them in more danger. 

In terms of how it’s worded, the U.S. draft keeps pushing this old-school idea of “security as something good for the whole world,” where the big powers paint themselves as the keepers of order and peace. In this way of talking, peace isn’t born from fair deals—it’s the result of managing everything from the top and wiping out any say from the locals. The draft’s full of gentle phrases like “stability,” “reconstruction,” and “humanitarian aid,” but they hide a whole web of uneven relationships and power structures. Even though it’s smoothed out for diplomacy, the text is a classic case of what critical thinkers in international relations dub “interventionist neoliberalism”: keeping domination going while pretending it’s all about a stable global setup. 

On a symbolic level, the draft says a lot too. By floating this plan, the United States is trying to come off as the fair broker for peace, despite everyone knowing its track record of backing the occupation and keeping inequalities alive in Palestinian areas. This split personality chips away at the plan’s credibility right from the heart. When the folks writing the resolution are also key players in the conflict, any talk of being neutral just doesn’t hold water. A peace that comes from that kind of mess isn’t built on trust—it’s hanging on a shaky power balance that’s way too fragile to last. 

We shouldn’t just see the recent U.S. draft resolution on Gaza as some routine diplomatic paper. It points to a bigger pattern in world politics: using peace as a way to control things. On the face of it, it stresses security, rebuilding, and keeping things steady, but underneath, it’s based on this unequal split between the “bosses” and the “ones being bossed.” Rather than handing back control to the people in Gaza, it keeps them stuck in the loop of outsiders calling the shots and trades away their local say-so for the sake of some international system. From that angle, the peace they’re proposing isn’t stopping the violence—it’s just reshaping it. 

The way the plan structures politics and security is more about enforcing rules and holding things in than about delivering justice or letting people stand on their own. No real ways to check accountability, wiping out Palestinian input, the heavy-handed military vibe in the writing, and leaning so much on institutions run by the West—all of that screams that this resolution isn’t fixing anything; it’s adding to the mess. Even if it dials down the fighting for a while, it could spawn a fresh kind of reliance that links Gaza’s comeback to giving in politically. 

In our world right now, you can’t have lasting peace without justice at its core. When you ditch justice for meddling politics, peace turns into just a break before the next round of fighting. What Gaza really needs isn’t some bossy international force—it’s a real promise to respect their right to decide their own path. Any idea that skips over that basic truth, no matter how nicely it’s dressed up in caring words, is bound to keep the violence spinning. The U.S. draft, with its fake peaceful front, definitely walks right into that pitfall: a peace lurking in the shadow of power, not shining with justice.