opinion

Pakistan’s infrastructure narrative over the past few years has been painfully instructive. Investments meant to connect markets and power industry have sometimes deepened vulnerability because climate risk and ecological limits were treated as afterthoughts. The scale of recent shocks is no longer anecdote. The catastrophic 2022 floods affected roughly 33 million people and left millions homeless, and the country is again reeling from extraordinary monsoon events in 2025 that, by mid-September, had displaced millions, damaged vast tracts of farmland (2.5 million acres in Punjab alone) and killed hundreds, with some reports putting the affected population in the millions and death tolls approaching the high hundreds. These are not distant statistics but the reality behind submerged villages, broken irrigation, and shattered livelihoods across Punjab, Khyber Pakhtunkhwa and Sindh.

These floods are compounded by mountain hazards: glacial-lake outburst floods (GLOFs) this summer in Gilgit-Baltistan destroyed scores of homes in several villages and briefly formed large, newly emergent lakes that severed roads and tourism circuits in fragile mountain economies. The visible loss of homes, guesthouses and the thin economic base of high-altitude communities illustrates how poorly planned transport and tourism infrastructure can multiply the harm of climate-driven glacier changes.

The thermal extremes of 2025 added a second front. Heatwaves pushed many urban centres and rural plains into temperature ranges far above seasonal norms, April 2025 was the second-hottest April in 65 years, with national mean temperature about 3.37°C above historical standard, daytime highs exceeding norms by 4.66°C, and Shaheed Benazirabad reaching 49°C. Heat stress has direct impacts on labour productivity, public health and the viability of energy systems, spiking demand at exactly the moment supply is least secure. The return of La Niña this winter poses another test of Pakistan’s resilience, as shifting temperature and rainfall patterns will once again reveal how exposed communities, ecosystems, and infrastructure remain to a changing climate. In short, Pakistan is experiencing compound hazards, heat stress, glacial instability, and unusually intense rainfall that together convert ordinary infrastructure failures into humanitarian catastrophes.

Why do these predictable collisions between people, nature and climate still happen? Why are the same infrastructure fail-points recurring? What good is growth if it washes away each year? Why villages again suffer loss, why roads wash away, why power systems falter and why communities bear the worst harm? The patterns are familiar: inadequate spatial planning that ignores biodiversity and hydrology, weak enforcement of EIAs and social safeguards, faulty compensation and resettlement processes that leave families poorer and more exposed, and infrastructure designed to historical standards rather than future climates.

Since most of the infrastructure is still built with the old climate baseline in mind, monsoon design storms, flood embankments, drainage systems calibrated for decades-old rainfall intensities. As rainfall intensifies, drainage and bridges collapse; hydraulic structures (culverts, flood bypasses) are undersized. Embankments along rivers like the Chenab, Ravi and Sutlej are overtopped or breached because they were not upgraded to accommodate altered flow regimes, upstream glacial melt, or enhanced rainfall due to La Niña cycles. Recent floods showed how urban drainage systems and river embankments, often built or altered without integrated watershed assessments, were overwhelmed. Releases from upstream reservoirs and poorly coordinated transboundary water management also amplified downstream impacts. Building dams and roads without resilience is no longer progress; it is policy myopia. Where accountability is thin and safeguards are procedural rather than substantive, projects proceed on convenience rather than resilience, and the poorest pay the price.

There is, however, a pragmatic path forward if we align tools, policy and practice. Practical screening tools, the Climate Risk Screening Tool (CRST) to assess exposure and vulnerability across sectors and regions, the Pakistan Climate Information Portal (PCIP) for localized climate projections and hazard mapping, and the Climate Public Expenditure and Institutional Review (CPEIR) to track and align financial flows with climate priorities, must be institutionalized into corridor-level planning and project appraisal so that environmental risk is not an advisory footnote but a gating criterion. Infrastructure corridors must be routed to avoid ecological risk zones, embankments upgraded, drainage scaled for extreme rainfall. Finance and contracts must include enforceable safeguards and compensation for those displaced or harmed. Integrating these tools within Pakistan’s emerging climate governance framework, guided by URAAN’s Environment & Climate Change pillar, will ensure assessments translate into actionable, accountable, and climate-aligned planning.

China’s role in Pakistan’s infrastructure landscape is already shifting the technical terms of that conversation. Recent investments and technology transfers have supplied cheap solar modules, wind equipment and battery storage that are rapidly changing Pakistan’s energy mix. Solar already supplied a substantial share, 25% of Pakistan’s utility-supplied electricity, of grid electricity in early 2025. Some road and hydropower projects are now being planned with higher flood levels in mind, more robust drainage, and designs that anticipate glacial-lake outburst risks. Chinese firms are also financing and building large transmission and storage projects that, if governed with green conditionality, can reduce reliance on fossil fuels and improve energy resilience. The leverage here is policy: using preferential finance and partnership to insist on climate-proof designs, environmental management plans, local content for green jobs, and decommissioning/redesign clauses that prevent stranded assets under accelerating climate change. Evidence of large Chinese-backed renewables, storage pilots and green energy deals suggests opportunity, but success will depend on domestic governance and procurement rules that prioritize sustainability over short-term cost savings.

Social and regulatory failures compound the damage. If Pakistan is to move from reactive disaster response to proactive resilience, we must redesign how infrastructure is conceived: SEAs and EIAs must be strategic and enforceable, not pro forma; decision-making criteria should explicitly value ecosystem services, social equity and future climate scenarios; and corridor planning should integrate nature-based solutions, wetland restoration for flood attenuation, reforestation for slope stability, and mangrove expansions to protect coasts, alongside hard infrastructure. Equally important is finance architecture that links green bonds, concessional Chinese and multilateral finance, and private investment to verifiable environmental and social performance. These are practical reforms, not theoretical ideals: they change engineering specifications, procurement clauses and contract supervision in ways that reduce risk and cost over the asset’s life.

Ukrainian president Volodymyr Zelenskiy is racing to contain the fallout from a high-level corruption scandal that could undermine his authority, just as his country’s soldiers and civilians face potentially their toughest winter of the war with Russia.

A week after anti-corruption investigators said they had smashed an alleged $100 million (€86 million) kickback scheme centered on state nuclear power firm Energoatom, the furor is still swirling around Zelenskiy—even as Ukraine’s troops are under severe pressure on the battlefield with Russia, and its ailing energy grid suffers nightly attacks.

Justice Minister Herman Halushchenko and Energy Minister Svitlana Hrynchuk have resigned over the scandal, but more damaging for the Ukrainian president is what appears to be significant involvement of businessman Timur Mindich, a protégé of Zelenskiy and co-owner of the media company that Zelenskiy founded before entering politics in 2019. Apparently having been tipped off, Mindich reportedly fled Ukraine shortly before last Monday’s raids and arrests.

The Ukrainian parliament has also voted to dismiss Energy Minister Svetlana Grinchuk, marking the second high-level ouster in a single day as the government struggles to contain a growing corruption scandal linked to a close ally of Vladimir Zelenskyy.

It is reported by the Kiev Post that Zelenskiy could fire his influential chief of staff, Andrey Yermak, this week. A full-scale “riot” has unfolded within parliament over the vast corruption scandal that allegedly links Yermak with the multimillion-dollar kickback scheme in the country’s energy sector. The scandal has also reminded Ukrainians of how the president curbed the independence of the nation’s top EU-initiated anti-corruption agencies in July—before being forced to backtrack by street protests and international criticism—in what critics called a brazen attempt to shield associates from scrutiny.

It threatens to become the biggest political crisis of the war for Zelenskiy and comes at a time when Ukrainian troops are under severe pressure from Russia in parts of four regions—Donetsk, Kharkiv, Zaporizhzhia, and Dnipropetrovsk.

Bags of cash and a golden toilet

The West’s “dis-ease” with Ukraine and its president is no longer speculation. It’s happening in plain sight, slowly but ineluctably. The Financial Times, hardly a Kremlin mouthpiece, has published a piece titled “Bags of cash and a gold toilet: the corruption crisis engulfing Zelenskiy’s government.” Its reporters now openly state that Ukrainian elites expect even more explosive revelations from NABU investigations. And once outlets like FT put something like this in print, it usually means the groundwork has been laid behind the scenes.

That Western Europe and the United States are still approving new aid says little about confidence in Kiev. But it speaks volumes about bureaucratic inertia and the reluctance of those who profit from this war to let the tap close suddenly. Even so, you can now hear cautious whispers in Brussels asking whether it makes sense to send billions to a government whose officials seem determined to conjure up a scheme to steal the money before it arrives. These are not new revelations; rather, the surprise is that anyone actually pretends to be surprised.

The truth is easy to discern: the West knew exactly who it was dealing with from the inception. Nobody in Brussels, London, or Washington was under any delusion that Ukraine was somehow to be confused with, say, Switzerland. They knowingly entered into a political partnership with what is, and has long been, one of the most corrupt and internally unstable political systems in Europe. To pretend otherwise is to feign ignorance—pure theater.

For more than thirty years, Ukrainian statehood has rested on the same shaky foundations: competing clans, oligarchic rule, privatized security services, and a political class willing to plunder their own population. Changing leadership never went so far as to alter the underlying structure; it never happened because each leader owed his position to the same network of cash, patronage, and power.

Consider Leonid Kravchuk: under his auspices, Ukraine began its slow “Banderization,” while state assets were siphoned away and local power brokers entrenched themselves. Leonid Kuchma then perfected this system. Under his presidency, Ukraine saw questionable arms deals, the murders of journalists and opposition figures, and audiotapes revealing orders to eliminate critics. Economic sectors with predictable profits were carved up among regional clans who ruled their fiefdoms in exchange for loyalty. And a steady stream of kickbacks to Kiev.

Viktor Yushchenko’s years brought more of the same: corruption schemes around energy, political assassinations, and the continued exploitation of ordinary Ukrainians. Viktor Yanukovych and Petro Poroshenko added their own layers to this hierarchy of detritus. Zelenskiy inherited it but then accelerated it, surrounding himself with loyalists whose main qualification was their willingness to feed at the same trough as previous leaders and look the other way.

Resistance to federalism

All of these leaders shared one common denominator: resisting federalization. Ukraine is a country with a large landmass; yet, it operates through a centralized, unitary form of governance in which a legislative body or a single individual is given supreme authority and thus ultimate power over regional and local needs of the country. There are distinct disadvantages inherent in such a structure:

·        It tends to subordinate local and regional needs to that of those in power.

·        It can encourage an abuse of power, which is one reason why the United States and a dozen other nations created a federated state instead. Instead of having one form of centralized power, there is a system of checks and balances designed to provide more equality and give greater voice to those being governed.

· Greater opportunities for manipulation exist. Those in power can pursue more wealth or governing opportunities for themselves, because few ways exist to stop such activity.

·        The governing structure will protect the central body first.

·        Sub-national regions are not allowed to decide their own laws, rights, and freedoms; there is no sharing of power.

·        The few control the many. If there is a shift in policy that takes rights away from select groups or individuals, there is little, if anything, the general population can do to stop it.

·        The central authority can artificially shape the discussions of society; it can decide that their political opponents are a threat, then pass laws that allow them to be silenced or imprisoned for what they have allegedly done.

The current scandal in Ukraine is testament to the issues noted above relating to its form of governance.

A federal Ukraine would devolve power and financial control to the regions, and that is the nightmare scenario for Kiev’s elites. It would loosen their grip on revenue streams, limit their political leverage, and allow regional identities to express themselves without fear of punishment from the center. So instead of reform, those with power offered forced Ukrainization and nationalist slogans about one people, one language, and one state. It was a political survival strategy, not a nation-building project.

This is why changing presidents will solve nothing. Remove Zelenskyy, and you likely get another figure produced by the same system. Perhaps Zaluzhnyi, perhaps a recycled face from a previous era. The choreography will be identical; only the masks of the actors will change. The deeper problem is the structure of Ukrainian statehood itself. As long as Ukraine remains in its current unitary form of central authority, it will continue producing conflict, corruption, and internal instability. War is not an aberration in such a system. It is an outcome.

If the elites refuse to reform and the population has no means to compel them, then the discussion must move beyond personalities. The uncomfortable truth is that the only lasting solution may be to abandon the current model of Ukrainian statehood altogether. No cosmetic change will save a system, the very design of which fosters autocracy and corruption.

They call it a new chapter. For Timor-Leste — a nation born from fire, driven by a stubborn tenderness for its own future — that chapter begins with a long-cherished dream finally realised: accession to ASEAN. The ceremony in Kuala Lumpur was more than a ceremonial hoisting of a flag. It was a national exhale; a small, mountainous country of 1.4 million now stepping into a $3.8 trillion regional economy, with access to markets, labour mobility and political networks that a generation of Timorese leaders have chased since the end of occupation.

But dreams do not automatically translate into livelihoods. Behind the spectacle lies a harsh reality. Timor-Leste’s public funds have long been supported by oil and gas; a Petroleum Fund that once seemed like an unstoppable safety net now stands at about US$18 billion, roughly ten times the size of the non-oil economy. That reserve has funded unhealthy comforts: public spending that hides a weak private sector and limited job creation. International agencies have plainly warned that without decisive structural change, withdrawals will deplete the fund, and fiscal consolidation will be unavoidable by the late 2030s. The diplomatic victory of ASEAN membership gives Timor-Leste some breathing space — not an open cheque.

If there is a single, combustible source of hope it is Timor-Leste’s people. More than half the population is under 25, a demographic shape that could be blessing or burden. Invest in them and the dividend could be immense; ignore them and the social consequences will be stark. The World Bank and UN partners have reiterated the message: the nation must rapidly transform its petroleum wealth into human capital.

Education is not a sentimental policy box. It is Timor-Leste’s lifeline. In the years after independence the country achieved near-universal primary enrolment — a testament to determination and a vital base to build from. Yet quality lags, secondary and vocational pathways are thin, literacy remains stubbornly low in parts, and rural classrooms are starved of materials and trained teachers. If Timor-Leste is to avoid the ‘resource mirage’ and build diversified industry; tourism, agro-processing, fisheries, light manufacturing, it must scale teacher training, technical education and secondary access now.

There is rich irony here. Timor-Leste’s inheritance is not only oil; it is a deep well of local knowledge, language and culture. Tetum, ancestral farming techniques and community stewardship of marine coasts. Education that respects and builds on that knowledge will do more than teach arithmetic: it will anchor citizens to livelihoods that are sustainable and uniquely Timorese. Pilot studies already show promise: teaching science through local agriculture and marine ecology makes learning relevant and sticky. This is a policy sweet spot where identity and development reinforce one another.

The foreign-policy playbook Timor-Leste is writing is strikingly pragmatic. It seeks friends everywhere: Australia and Japan on governance and renewable energy; China and India for infrastructure and scholarships; the EU and multilateral banks for budget support and norms; and the Global South (CPLP, G7+) for political solidarity. This is small-state diplomacy at its finest — networked, nimble, and honest about capacity limits. The Tibar Bay Port public-private partnership, championed with Chinese and private partners, is an early testament to the practical payoff of such outreach: ports, connectors and trade corridors that can anchor an export economy.

And yet, for all its global friends, Timor-Leste’s credibility rests on its domestic reform. Corruption, weak public financial management and the slow pace of accountability erode trust and scare off the long-term investors Timor-Leste needs. The answer is painfully ordinary: transparent budgets, active audits, prosecutions where evidence exists, and devolution of decision-making so rural communities can see value return to their villages. Only then will foreign capital stay beyond short-term infrastructure projects and fund genuine, job-creating enterprises.

Climate change is no footnote. Timor-Leste’s mountains and coasts are exposed to storms, floods and erosion; nearly 15 per cent of the population stands to gain from GCF-backed rural resilience projects that repair roads, irrigation and water supplies. These are not charity: they are investments that protect productivity, reduce disaster costs and safeguard food security. Marrying green infrastructure with grassroots knowledge is both practical and moral.

Unlike Singapore — a compact, highly urbanised entrepôt that inherited British administrative systems and English-language institutions and could pursue rapid, technocratic, top-down development — Timor-Leste emerged from decades of violent occupation with Portuguese colonial legacies, a dispersed rural population, nascent public institutions and a heavy, finite dependence on petroleum revenues; consequently, where Singapore could quickly attract multinational capital and build bureaucratic capacity, Timor-Leste must first prioritise rebuilding local administrative capability, craft multilingual education policies rooted in Tetum and local wisdom, and pursue community-centred diversification strategies suited to a post-conflict, resource-dependent society.

Timor-Leste’s reform strategy must address political-economic realities such as vested interests, elite capture, and inadequate administrative ability, which will hinder progress unless reformers establish wide coalitions and achieve visible short-term gains. Immediate efforts should prioritise public audits and targeted scholarships to increase confidence and swiftly offer benefits to communities. Over the medium term, pass and execute a stronger Public Financial Management Act to enhance budget regulations, procurement, and oversight. Long-term work should explore decentralisation in selected districts, combining fiscal devolution with capacity-building to ensure local governments handle funds openly and provide visible results to rural voters.

What should Canberra and others in the region do? Support Timor-Leste’s human-capital pivot, yes; but do it through long-term technical cooperation, scholarships tied to return-home conditions, and public-sector mentoring that helps rebuild procurement and auditing systems. Encourage ASEAN to fast-track trade and mobility measures that fit Timor-Leste’s capacity, not only its potential. And when investment arrives, insist it rides on the rails of transparency and community benefit.

Timor-Leste has endured colonisation, occupation, and the trauma of state-building. It now stands at a rare crossroads: a diplomatic win that could be the first chapter of a story about inclusive prosperity — or a beautiful opening to a chapter that closes too soon. The decision will not be made in Kuala Lumpur’s ceremonial halls; it will be determined in classrooms, provincial council chambers, and the small harbours where fisherfolk mend nets. If ASEAN membership teaches us anything, it is this: belonging to a community of nations only counts if that belonging creates more opportunities for ordinary people. For Timor-Leste, the task is urgent, the tools are known, and the country’s people — fierce, young, and proud — are waiting.

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This article will discuss the political context and strategic implications of the dissolution of the Partiya Karkerên Kurdistanê (PKK) as a development that reconstructs the domestic political dynamics of Turkey and the Middle East region. For more than four decades, the Kurdish insurgency in Turkey initiated by the Partiya Karkerên Kurdistanê (PKK) has represented the rise of non-state actors as a new force in the international system while challenging the dominance of the state as the sole actor in the modern political configuration. The struggle for recognition of identity and official governmental autonomy ended with an official statement from its main pillar, Abdullah Öcalan, who was still in prison in February 2025. This call was then conveyed by a member of parliament from the pro-Kurdish party, containing orders to lay down arms, disband and end the armed conflict with Turkey. The dissolution of the PKK reinforced Ankara’s consolidation of power and strengthened the legitimacy of Turkey’s foreign policy under the Neo-Ottoman ideology. At the same time, the decision to dissolve the PKK reduced the space for Kurdish political articulation, which had opposed the government’s nationalist-Islamist and centralised narrative within the framework of the state.

PKK: Evolution of the Struggle, Regional Factors and Influences

The Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK), also known as the Kurdistan Workers’ Party, is a militant organisation with Kurdish nationalist leanings, founded by Abdullah Öcalan in the late 1970s. The PKK rebellion was motivated by the Turkish government’s lack of sympathy towards Kurdish culture and its human rights violations against the population. This then encouraged the PKK group’s aspirations to gain political autonomy and territory through an independent Kurdish state. From the outset, this group has placed armed action as the main pillar of its struggle and has not hesitated to use violence against Kurds who are considered pro-Turkish government. Since 1984, this group has waged an armed rebellion against Turkey, which by 2024 had claimed the lives of more than 40,000 people, with thousands of other Kurds forced to flee the violence in southeastern Turkey to cities in the north.

As the decades of rebellion progressed, various internal and external factors began to shape new boundaries for the sustainability of the PKK’s armed movement. This was then supported by the involvement of several cross-border actors, including the PKK’s internal structure and militant wing, which included pro-Kurdish political parties and regional Kurdish networks, particularly the Yekîneyên Parastina Gel (YPG) or Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF) in Syria and the KDP (Kurdistan Democratic Party) in Iraq. At the regional level, the dynamics of the PKK rebellion are influenced by the role of three major countries, namely Iran, Iraq and Syria, each of which has strategic and political interests in domestic Kurdish affairs that indirectly shape the PKK’s room for manoeuvre. Although it temporarily ceased its activities in the 2000s, the group is indicated to have resumed guerrilla attacks in south-eastern Turkey, resulting in a domino effect of various violent incidents.

Military Pressure, Regional Dynamics and the End of the PKK Rebellion

In the 1990s, Turkey targeted PKK bases operating in the Kurdish safe zone in northern Iraq through air strikes, which were then followed by ground operations. Ultimately, 2007 marked the peak of the Turkish government’s response to this conflict with the passing of a mandate for cross-border military operations against the PKK in Iraq, followed by a series of air strikes and ground operations in February 2008. Although attempts were made to pursue a peace process, this did not prove to be a solution due to the presence of the Democratic Union Party (PYD), which played a significant role in the Syrian Civil War and ultimately triggered the peak of the fighting in 2015 and 2016. Since 2015, the insurgency has resulted in nearly 6,000 casualties, including 600 civilians, 1,300 soldiers, and 4,000 PKK and TAK members (CSIS, 2023).

Subsequently, these developments ultimately crystallised in a political decision in 2025, when the PKK declared an official end to its armed struggle. The author argues that this was influenced by several key factors, including a lack of significant political achievements coupled with a continuing weakening of military capacity, a narrowing operational area, and instability in external support, meaning that the costs of armed struggle were not commensurate with the results obtained. In addition, the PKK has been under constant military pressure from Turkey since Erdoğan came to power, resulting in the loss of safe havens for the PKK to train, hide and mobilise its forces. Öcalan’s ideological shift, which began to question the effectiveness of armed action, also led to the end of the rebellion, as he stated last February that the democratic path was the only way to realise a political system. Based on this statement, Öcalan has emphasised that armed struggle is no longer relevant and that the PKK must abandon its military strategy and choose the political path.

The PKK and the Consolidation of Neo-Ottomanism in Turkey

Neo-Ottomanism is a political and cultural orientation that developed in Turkey after the reform from a secular government to an approach more based on Islamic values, which grew stronger under the leadership of Recep Tayyip Erdoğan. This doctrine is manifested in Turkey’s expansive foreign policy, which encompasses geopolitical strategies, overt military intervention, strategic alliances and cultural expansion, with the aim of restoring Turkey’s role as a major regional power and repeating the glory days of the Ottoman EmpireOne of the main ideas of this doctrine emphasises the importance of uniting all ethnic groups, regardless of ethnic background or religious affiliation, with the aim of maintaining the sustainability of the Ottoman Empire and ensuring the welfare of its people (Ivaylo, 2019). Based on this framework, the existence of Kurdish groups such as the PKK, whose main ambition is to gain autonomy and political identity, is considered a serious challenge to the narrative of statehood and Turkey’s dominant role in the region. Therefore, this shows intense tension between local identity aspirations and Turkey’s vision to assert its influence both domestically and regionally.

The Neo-Ottomanism doctrine aims to emphasise Turkey’s image as a strong, stable and leading country in the region. Meanwhile, the PKK rebellion has hindered the positive narrative that the government, particularly the Justice and Development Party (AKP), wants to build. The Erdoğan administration combines Ottoman rhetoric with modern nationalism and the narrative of national security, so that military operations against the PKK become part of Turkey’s duty to maintain unity and buffer zones in areas that were historically under Ottoman rule. In this case, consistent military pressure through Euphrates Shield (2016), Olive Branch (2018) and Claw Operations (2019-2013), accompanied by regional diplomacy and gradual political-economic integration efforts, has reduced the operational capacity and limited the movement of rebel groups such as the PKK. Ultimately, these factors, which were also supported by internal strategic transformations, including Öcalan’s ideological influence leading to the decision to “surrender”, reflect the implementation of the Neo-Ottomanism doctrine strategy and mark a new phase in both the Turkish government’s relationship with Kurdish groups and the opportunity to reshape the domestic and regional security landscape.

A New Phase and Paradigm Shift

Overall, the end of the PKK rebellion in 2025 not only marks the end of an armed conflict that has lasted more than four decades, but also manifests Turkey’s success in enforcing its Neo-Ottoman ideology at the domestic and regional levels to maintain its sovereignty and territory. The dissolution of the PKK was the result of consistent military pressure, structured diplomatic strategies and political-economic integration to limit the movement of non-state actors, in this case the rebels, while strengthening Ankara’s dominance. However, the author argues that it is not impossible that the rebellion will return with new patterns and strategies, although this will take a long time. Thus, this phenomenon is a tangible manifestation of the implementation of Neo-Ottomanism principles, which emphasise strengthening Turkey’s security, political legitimacy and regional influence, supported by a combination of military instruments, diplomacy and ideological pressure on local identities.

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.

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.’ 

Russia’s policy towards Southeast Asia is undergoing a remarkable adjustment period. From focusing on defense cooperation, which has been its traditional strength, Russia is gradually shifting its focus to more sustainable areas. This shift reflects Russia’s flexible efforts to maintain its presence in a region strongly affected by great power competition, while demonstrating its ambition to position itself as a reliable and independent partner, contributing to the balance of influence against the expanding US involvement in the Indo-Pacific.

From diplomatic presence to substantive cooperation

For many years, Russia’s Southeast Asia policy has been largely confined to diplomatic presence and participation in ASEAN-led multilateral forums. However, in the wake of Trump 2.0’s tariff adjustments, Moscow has increasingly recognized Southeast Asia as a potential market to fill the economic void left by sanctions. This realization has led to more proactive and substantive shifts in Russia’s regional policy.

Since the beginning of 2025, Russia has stepped up bilateral cooperation with key ASEAN economies such as Indonesia, Vietnam, and Thailand, focusing on areas that the US and China have not yet focused on competing in, such as oil and gas exploitation, agriculture, and civil nuclear power. At the same time, Russia has also expanded its network of embassies, cultural centers, and trade promotion agencies in most ASEAN countries, thereby creating a multi-layered approach from politics to economics.

One of the most notable changes is the shift of Russia’s traditional trade to non-dollar payment mechanisms to minimize the risk of sanctions. According to statistics from the Russian Ministry of Economic Development, in 2024, trade turnover between Russia and ASEAN reached a record for the second consecutive year, increasing by 5.8%. Over the past decade, trade turnover has increased by 70%, with most transactions being settled in local currencies or currency swaps. At the same time, Southeast Asia is also a potential area to promote exports of liquefied natural gas (LNG), fertilizers, and military materials, helping to reposition Russia as a stable energy supplier.

Diversifying partners outside of China

The trend of diversifying partners beyond China has emerged as a new driving force in Russia’s Southeast Asia policy. After years of relying on the Chinese market as a “lifeline” for its wartime economy, Russia has increasingly recognized the asymmetry in its trade relations as China has gradually gained an overwhelming position. This has forced Russia to rebalance its dependence and expand its influence by seeking alternative partners.

The “multi-directional” policy that Russia is implementing is clearly demonstrated through the strengthening of bilateral economic relations with a number of countries in the region. According to Russian Deputy Foreign Minister Andrey Rudenko, the international situation is opening up many new opportunities for Russia to strengthen relations with the region of more than 650 million people. On the contrary, from the perspective of ASEAN, cooperation with Russia has its own appeal, because investment capital from Russia is considered less politically binding than the “debt trap” risks often associated with projects within the framework of China’s Belt and Road Initiative (BRI). However, limited financial resources have caused this direction of Russia to largely stop at the level of framework agreements or projects waiting to be launched.

In addition, Russia has also proposed establishing cooperation mechanisms focusing on less sensitive areas such as maritime security, counter-terrorism, and disaster relief. Although these initiatives have not yet reached the institutional level, they reflect Russia’s efforts in the regional innovation race with the US and China.

Connecting Southeast Asia to the Eurasian Axis and the Global South

Since launching the “Pivot to the East” policy in 2014, Russia’s strategic interests have gradually shifted from the European region to a vision of Eurasian integration. While in the early stages, this policy was mainly aimed at demonstrating efforts to “pivot” according to the trend of global power shifts; entering the 2020s, Russia has concretized its orientation with in-depth initiatives.

Following the Free Trade Agreement between the Eurasian Economic Union (EAEU) and Vietnam in 2015, Russia continued negotiations with Indonesia and Thailand, aiming to form an economic network that is less dependent on the dollar system. Russia is also promoting initiatives for the construction of a connecting corridor between the Russian Far East and Central Asia with maritime routes in the Indian Ocean and the Pacific Ocean. Speaking at the International Conference on Eurasian Security in Minsk, Belarus, on October 28, 2025, Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov emphasized that Russia wants to build a common development structure for the entire region and does not exclude any country on this continent. Transcontinental connectivity projects such as the Vladivostok-Chennai transport corridor or the Asia-Europe maritime and air route are integrated by Russia into its vision of an expanded Asia-Europe economic space, reflecting its efforts to bring Southeast Asia into the Russia-led “Greater Eurasia” strategy.

At the same time, Russia has been actively promoting the “multipolarization” discourse through mechanisms such as BRICS and the Shanghai Cooperation Organization (SCO), in collaboration with China and India, to strengthen the image of a post-Western order. Russia’s support for Indonesia’s entry into BRICS not only reflects the group’s efforts to expand its sphere of influence but also demonstrates Russia’s strategy of integrating Southeast Asia into the emerging South-South partnership network. Through this, Russia wants to demonstrate its flexible integration into the Asia-Pacific region while also being a voice to show that Russia is not isolated in the process of restructuring the global order.

Taking advantage of ASEAN principles

One of the factors that helps Russia maintain a stable position in Southeast Asia is its ability to effectively exploit ASEAN’s neutral space. Unlike the US or China, which often pursue a strategy of competing for influence by “choosing sides” under pressure, Moscow chooses a flexible approach based on the principle of non-interference in ASEAN’s internal affairs and consensus.

Thanks to these principles, Russia’s participation in ASEAN-led multilateral mechanisms is not interpreted as an attempt to form political alliances or challenge the existing order, but on the contrary, is seen as consistent with the spirit of openness and inclusiveness. It is ASEAN’s neutral space that provides Russia with access in a variety of roles, from observer to dialogue partner to direct participant, thereby legitimizing Russia’s presence in Southeast Asia.

In fact, Russia actively participates in ASEAN-led mechanisms such as the ASEAN Regional Forum (ARF), the ASEAN Defense Ministers Meeting Plus (ADMM+), and the East Asia Summit (EAS) to promote cooperation in less sensitive areas, helping Russia both strengthen its image as a constructive contributor and avoid creating suspicion from the West.

Rebooting defense and energy diplomacy

Through the two pillars of defense and energy, Russia has put into its foreign policy to reaffirm its position. These are considered the spearheads by which Russia still maintains its most substantial competitive capacity compared to the US.

In the defense sector, Russia is restoring bilateral cooperation with traditional partners such as Vietnam, Laos, Myanmar, and Indonesia. Previously, Russia accounted for about 25% of the arms market share in Southeast Asia, maintaining its position as the largest supplier in the region. However, instead of continuing to rely on sales contracts, Russia is now focusing on expanding the “after-sales” sector, such as training, maintenance, technology transfer, and joint research in the defense industry. At the multilateral level, Russia actively participates in high-level defense dialogue mechanisms such as ADMM+ and ARF to demonstrate the voice of a responsible partner, promoting peace and stability in the region.

Along with defense, Russia considers energy a common concern to expand its influence in Southeast Asia. Russia takes advantage of its deep-sea oil and gas exploitation techniques and develops nuclear power technology to strengthen cooperation with developing economies with large energy consumption needs. Leading energy corporations such as Zarubezhneft and Rosatom have been cooperating with Vietnam in gas exploitation projects on the continental shelf of the East Sea. Russia also boosts LNG exports to Thailand and the Philippines to expand its market share in the region while cooperating with Indonesia’s Pertamina Group in developing petrochemical refining and building civil nuclear energy infrastructure. These steps reflect Moscow’s efforts to establish an Asian energy supply chain to replace the disrupted European market.

Position on the East Sea dispute

Russia’s stance on the East Sea dispute is clearly cautious. Basically, Russia supports the settlement of disputes by peaceful means based on international law and the 1982 United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS), while emphasizing the central role of ASEAN in conflict management. Unlike the US, which always emphasizes the issue of freedom of navigation, Russia chooses the role of a “balancing third party,” maintaining cooperative relations with all parties. However, Russia also avoids making specific statements regarding China’s sovereignty claims in order not to harm the Russia-China relationship, which is currently the leading pillar of its foreign policy.

In addition, Russia also supports the early completion of the Code of Conduct in the East Sea (COC), considering it an important tool to maintain stability and calling on all parties to exercise restraint. Instead of directly engaging in disputes, Russia maintains its presence through limited oil and gas cooperation within the exclusive economic zone (EEZ), demonstrating Russia’s commitment to the legitimate sovereignty of its partner countries. At the same time, participating in joint exercises with ASEAN countries also helps Russia affirm its image as a responsible power, promoting trust and the ability to coordinate security at sea.

However, Russia’s influence in the South China Sea is still limited. The war in Ukraine has significantly reduced the frequency of Russian military patrols in the region. In addition, the increasingly close relationship between Moscow and Beijing has also made some ASEAN countries cautious, worried that Russia’s “neutrality” could be broken.

The adjustments in Russia’s Southeast Asia policy clearly reflect Russia’s efforts to adapt to a situation where it has to allocate resources to multiple goals. It is easy to see that Russia has chosen to shift from an ideological orientation to a pragmatic strategy, focusing on areas that can generate specific benefits. Instead of directly confronting the US or competing for influence with China, Moscow seeks to exploit gaps to position itself as a balancing factor.

Russia’s current Southeast Asia policy is a survival adaptation, reflecting a strategic effort to maintain influence in a regional structure that is reshaping under the pressure of US-China competition. Under increasing pressure from the US, Russia is forced to pursue a more autonomous path in Southeast Asia to maintain its strategic space. However, Russia’s influence is still limited by its internal capacity and competition from other powers. Russia may not be able to shape the rules of the game or lead the order, but it is certainly a factor that cannot be left out of the Southeast Asian strategic chessboard.

The Old Global Arrangement Is Breaking Apart

For decades the world economy rested on a clear arrangement. Wealthy nations consumed, financed innovation and set global standards. Developing nations supplied affordable labour, delivered production capacity and powered the rise of outsourcing. This structure created jobs, raised incomes and guided national strategies across Asia, Africa and Latin America.

That system is now weakening. Wage gaps that once justified outsourcing are closing rapidly. Factory wages in China have more than doubled over the past decade. Salaries in Vietnam, Bangladesh, Mexico and Eastern Europe have risen as these economies matured. Service wages in the Philippines and several African nations have also increased enough to erode the advantage that global firms once assumed was permanent. The global labour discount is disappearing and honestly the logic of offshoring is losing strength faster than many expected.

The New Producer Is Not a Country

Artificial intelligence is accelerating this shift. AI systems now complete tasks that once required large numbers of workers in the Global South. Customer support, document processing, routine software maintenance, claims handling, financial verification and data entry are already moving to automated systems that operate at scale with high accuracy and very low marginal cost.

This is not simply a productivity gain. It represents a substitution of labour itself. The International Monetary Fund estimates that about forty percent of global jobs contain tasks that can be automated. Surveys show that nearly thirty percent of companies plan to replace entire categories of work with AI within a year. These numbers are not abstract. They reflect changes that are already underway inside Western corporations, and many leaders barely talk about it publicly yet.

The Global North is becoming a producer again, but the production now happens through models rather than offshore workers. When a system can perform a task at a fraction of the cost of a remote employee and without coordination risk or geopolitical uncertainty, outsourcing collapses quickly and sometimes silently.

A New Global Divide Is Emerging

The world once divided neatly into high income consumers and low income producers. That divide is being replaced by a new line of separation. The decisive factor now is control over compute infrastructure and ownership of data and advanced models.

Compute is becoming the new labour force. Data is becoming the new export commodity. Intellectual property is becoming the new foundation of national power.

Research shows that developing countries face the highest automation exposure because they supply the kind of predictable and repetitive work that AI can absorb easily. Scholars describe this as a dual vulnerability because these nations depend heavily on sectors with high substitution risk while lacking the resources to adopt advanced technology at an equal pace. The risk is clear but the response has been slow.

The Global South Faces a Narrow Window

The consequences are immediate. The Philippines depends heavily on outsourced services. Bangladesh and Vietnam rely on labour intensive manufacturing. Kenya, Rwanda and several West African nations have built emerging digital service sectors under the assumption that global firms would continue sending work for decades.

An African regional analysis warns that up to forty percent of tasks in outsourcing roles could be automated by the year twenty thirty, with women and low income workers facing the highest risk. If Western companies reduce labour demand sharply, millions of workers across the Global South will face disrupted futures at the same moment and many governments are not prepared for that scale of change.

What The Global South Can Still Do

AI does not remove opportunity. It moves opportunity. Developing nations can remain competitive if they shift quickly.

They can strengthen their position in rare earth minerals and strategic metals that power batteries, servers and large data centres. By building refining and processing capacity instead of exporting raw ore they can capture higher value in the AI supply chain. They can also use their geography to become low cost energy hubs that attract global compute infrastructure, something that is slowly becoming a huge competitive advantage.

Nations can treat local data as a strategic national asset. Agricultural data, healthcare records and cultural archives can be structured into national datasets that foreign firms must license. This turns data into a renewable export product and helps retain control over how information is used.

They can also specialise in scientific and technical niches where talent matters more than capital, such as precision agriculture, advanced materials or climate analytics. Countries do not need to dominate entire industries. They just need one area that the world depends on.

Finally they must adopt AI internally to raise productivity. Early adoption helps nations move workers into higher skill roles before the full force of automation arrives, and without waiting for external pressure.

Reinvention Is the Only Path Forward

Competing on price alone is now impossible. Humans cannot become cheaper than algorithms that operate at almost zero cost. Developing nations must move beyond labour based strategies. They must build value in areas that reward expertise, judgement, culture and creativity. They must invest in local compute, protect intellectual property and build their own data resources.

The choice is not between the old model and the new model. The old model is ending on its own. The only choice is what must replace it, and that decision cannot be delayed much longer.

A New Chapter in Globalisation

Globalisation is not disappearing. It is shifting into a new form. The earlier version relied on inexpensive labour in developing nations. The new version relies on intelligent systems concentrated in wealthier nations. The global consumer now has a new producer that is faster, cheaper and infinitely scalable.

Countries that once supplied the workforce must now decide whether they will redefine their place in the global economy or allow their relevance to decline. Some countries may adapt. Many might not.

A new chapter has begun. The nations that understand this shift will shape their future. The nations that do not will be written out of the story far quicker than they realise.

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 interview—with Fox News on November 11, 2025—US President Donald Trump defended the H1B Visa, saying that the US needed foreigners with special skills and talents that US workers did not possess.

Said Trump

“You don’t have certain talents… And people have to learn, you can’t take people off an unemployment line and say, I’m going to put you into a factory. We’re going to make missiles.” 

In September 2025, the Trump administration had announced a massive hike in H-1B visa application fees. The revised fees for the H-1B Visa were fixed at $100,000. This decision had caused a lot of concern within several Information Technology (IT) companies and also among IT professionals already working in the US (Indian professionals account for 70% of H-1B visas issued in 2024).

 Later, some clarifications were made by the Trump administration. The first was that this was a one-time visa fee that needed to be paid only by new applicants, and the second was that those already on F-1 or L1 visas would not need to pay this fee (this new fee was applicable only to applicants who were based outside of the United States). While these clarifications were important, the decision to raise the H-1B application fees had already created an atmosphere of uncertainty.

In the same interview with Fox News, the US president also said that while he did not want international students, they were essential for the US economy. Said Trump:

“We take in trillions of dollars from students. You know, the students pay more than double when they come in from most foreign countries. I want to see our school system thrive… It’s not that I want them, but I view it as a business.”

International Students in the US

International students make a significant contribution towards the US economy and also help in creating jobs in the US. In 2023-2024 there were well over 1.5 million international students, and they contributed over $40 billion to the US economy. A significant percentage of international students were from China and India (in 2024, India accounted for well over 1/4th of the total international student community). August 2025 witnessed a significant dip in the inflow of international students into the US, and this is likely to cause a significant dent to the US economy, according to estimates. Certain top US universities also witnessed significant budget cuts and layoffs.

Trump, while speaking at the White House earlier this month, also said that he is keen to welcome 600,000 Chinese students to the US.

Several international students, especially from India, have begun to look at alternatives to the US. There has been a rise in the number of Indian students going to Germany, Finland, and the UAE.

Reaction to Trump’s comments

Both comments of Trump—pertaining to H1B visas as well as international students—are likely to annoy the MAGA camp within the Republican party. Steve Bannon, a former aide of Trump, while criticizing the US President’s statements, said:

“This is Davos in a red tie! Telling American engineers and factory workers we lack talent? Then flooding campuses with CCP-linked students? It’s a gut-punch to every voter who bled for this movement. Wake up, Mr. President—this isn’t MAGA; it’s Chamber of Commerce betrayal.”

Significantly, in an interview with Fox TV, Nalin Haley, the son of Nikki Haley—former US Ambassador to the United Nations (UN)—had criticized H1B visas and said that US workers were suffering because of the same.

Trump’s statements reiterate the point that while not just the US — but other countries in the Anglosphere have legitimate concerns vis-à-vis illegal immigration — it is important to have a nuanced approach towards immigration issues and not view the issue from simplistic binaries. It remains to be seen if the US president sticks to this current stand.

For centuries, women and girls have been told to wait their turn, to negotiate harder, to adjust to the structures that exclude them. Yet patriarchy does not negotiate — it dominates, silences, and systematically excludes. It is not a misunderstanding to be resolved; it is a system of power that must be dismantled. That is why only radical feminism — clear-eyed, structural, and unapologetic — will do.

Patriarchy: The Architecture of Exclusion

Patriarchy is not merely a set of discriminatory attitudes or isolated cases of male dominance. It is an entrenched social, political, and economic system that determines who holds power, who has access to resources, and whose voices are deemed legitimate. It functions through our laws, our institutions, our workplaces, our cultures, and even our languages.

Patriarchy is a pervasive system of power relations that privileges men and disadvantages women across all spheres of life. It is, in essence, the invisible architecture of exclusion — replicated in every structure where decision-making and authority are concentrated.

Gender parity is dismal. These are not natural outcomes — they are deliberate designs of a patriarchal order. As the feminist theorist Sylvia Walby has written, “Patriarchy is a system of social structures and practices in which men dominate, oppress and exploit women.” It is not accidental; it is organized.

Why Radical Feminism, Not Reformism

Radical feminism is often misunderstood as extreme or even militant. But the “radical” in radical feminism comes from the Latin radix — meaning “root.” It seeks to address the root causes of women’s oppression, not just its symptoms. It is not about hatred of men, but about dismantling a social order that privileges them.

As defined by Encyclopaedia Britannica, “Radical feminism is a branch of feminism that calls for a radical reordering of society to eliminate male supremacy in all social and economic contexts.” It does not seek accommodation within existing patriarchal systems — it seeks transformation.

Liberal or reformist feminism, by contrast, focuses on achieving equality within existing systems through legal reforms or representation. Radical feminism argues that those systems themselves were built on women’s exclusion and cannot deliver equality without being rebuilt. The tables where women are asked to “take a seat” were designed for patriarchal advantage. As the sociologist bell hooks observed, “Patriarchy has no gender.” Even well-intentioned reforms can reproduce male-centric hierarchies if they do not interrogate the system itself.

Why Seats Are Not Enough

“Seats at the table” has become a slogan for inclusion. Yet the table itself — its design, ownership, and purpose — often remains unchallenged. When patriarchal institutions invite women to participate, they often do so on patriarchal terms: speak, but not too loudly; lead, but not too differently; succeed, but without questioning the structure.

True justice demands new tables — not invitations to the old ones. This is why radical feminists argue for structural transformation rather than symbolic inclusion. As feminist scholar Catharine MacKinnon argues, “The law sees and treats women the way men see and treat women.” Unless the very rules of governance and culture change, participation risks being tokenistic.

Structural change means rethinking governance, redistributing resources, redesigning work, and redefining value itself. It means:

• Parity by design: Mandating 50:50 representation in political, economic, and corporate decision-making — not as aspiration but as institutional requirement.
• Redistributive budgets: Allocating national resources to care work, reproductive health, and social protection as core infrastructure, not “social spending.”
• Structural accountability: Requiring gender impact assessments, independent oversight, and enforcement mechanisms with legal consequence.
• Re-working work: Recognizing unpaid and care work as economic labor, restructuring work environments, and protecting caregivers from economic penalty.
• Reimagining safety: Addressing gender-based violence not only as individual crime but as a systemic failure of justice and security.

These are not abstractions. They are the precise recommendations emerging from feminist economists and policymakers who argue that equality cannot exist in a world built on unequal foundations.

Intersectionality: The Lens of Reality

Radical feminism today also insists on intersectionality — a term coined by Kimberlé Crenshaw — to address how patriarchy intersects with race, class, sexuality, disability, and other systems of power. The experiences of a wealthy white woman in a boardroom are not the same as those of a rural African woman displaced by war or climate crisis.

Any transformative feminist politics must therefore center those who face the compounded weight of patriarchy. True liberation cannot come from the top down; it must be built from the margins inward. As Crenshaw explains, “If you can’t see a problem, you can’t fix it.”

For global South feminist movements — from Tigray to Gaza, from Sudan to Afghanistan — this perspective is essential. Patriarchy is often reinforced by militarism, religious authoritarianism, and neo-colonial economic models that disproportionately harm women. Radical feminism, in its truest sense, must be anti-patriarchal, anti-racist, and anti-imperialist at once.

Dismantling the System, Not Decorating It

Critics often ask if radical feminism is “too idealistic.” Yet history shows that every major gain for women — from the vote, to reproductive rights, to anti-violence laws — began with demands once deemed radical. The urgent need for radical feminism today lies in its refusal to normalize injustice and its insistence that power itself must be redefined.

The truth is that patriarchy adapts. It learns to wear progressive language while maintaining control. Corporate feminism, where “empowerment” is reduced to branding campaigns, is patriarchy in new clothes. Radical feminism cuts through that illusion. It understands that as long as patriarchal logic defines leadership, value, and success, women’s liberation will remain incomplete.

Conclusion: No Justice Without Dismantling Patriarchy

Liberation for women and girls does not begin with waiting for inclusion — it begins with dismantling exclusion. Patriarchy cannot coexist with justice, just as domination cannot coexist with equality.

To call oneself a radical feminist is to recognize that the personal is political, and that politics must be rebuilt from the ground up. It is to refuse the comfort of partial justice.

Seats at tables built on our exclusion are not enough. New tables — designed by and for women, where equality is not granted but owned — are the only way forward.

Because justice cannot coexist with patriarchy. And patriarchy, finally, must fall.

Over the past decade, we have seen again how the suffering experienced by the people of Gaza continues in the midst of global political forces that are silent on the sidelines. The Global Sumud Flotilla (GSF) as a new form of global solidarity emerged and was formed to turn a blind eye to this injustice. This movement itself sails across the country’s borders carrying messages of humanity and peaceful resistance as a form of opposition to Israel’s blockade policy that closes Palestinian land, air, and sea access to the Gaza Strip (Global Sumud Flotilla, 2025). The failure of formal diplomacy to open humanitarian channels has led international civil society to take the initiative to take over the role to show the world that now geopolitical conditions no longer limit and bind global solidarity to take steps on humanitarian issues like this.

The author considers that the Global Sumud Flotilla movement is a real representation of the practice of transnationalism, where this movement is a network of cross-border communities that move together with the same goals and basic human values. The moral, social, and political dimensions are all combined into one in the GSF; this is a concrete example of the active role of global civil society in humanitarian issues in Palestine. For this reason, the author will focus this discussion on three main aspects, namely the origins and actors behind the formation of the GSF movement, the human values and transnational solidarity that underlie this movement, and its relevance in the era of globalization, which is a manifestation of transnational society.

Discussion

The history of the formation of the Global Sumud Flotilla movement is rooted in an international network that has also tried to penetrate the blockade of Gaza through the sea route since 2010, namely the Freedom Flotilla Coalition (FFC) movement. Based on information from the official website of GSF (2025), there are more than 30 organizations from various parts of the world that are involved in this initiative, including Europe, Latin America, and Asia. It is not because of the state’s agenda or political interests, but the reason they sail is because of the humanitarian mission they bring, namely “Break the siege, break the silence.” There are various actors who participate in this movement, ranging from humanitarian activists and civil society leaders to journalists anddoctors, so this proves that the global community can also collaborate or cooperate outside the state structure. Keck and Sikkink (1998) put forward the theory of transnational advocacy networks; within the framework of this theory can be a strong example of how this network of cross-border activism uses their moral solidarity to oppose state power.

The main value that underlies or is the foundation of this movement is an Arabic term, namely “Sumud,” which means constancy or fortitude. Well, in this Palestinian context, sumud reflects the determination of the Palestinian people who are trying to survive and protect their homeland even in the midst of the colonial siege and violence that constantly hits them. This value was then adopted by the global community that is a member of the GSF as a form of symbolic solidarity that underlies their movement so that it is not only the Palestinian people who have constancy but also the common spirit of humanity who are moving to oppose and reject the injustices that occur. GSF volunteers stated that in this mission they not only brought the issue of aid but also defended the dignity of humanity in the face of the ruling military power (Harakah Daily, 2025).

            The practice of transnationalism in the GSF is very clear, and we can see it in how this movement operates. All coordination is carried out in full by global civil society networks through various mechanisms, such as donations, digital campaigns, and international advocacy, so no single country is the main leader or sponsor in this movement. In breaking through the blockade of Gaza, global civil society faces various major challenges, but the presence of this GSF shows us all how this cross-border collaborative movement can suppress world public opinion. Every voyage they make can be used as an alternative space for diplomacy or citizen diplomacy, which emphasizes the position of the global community, which plays an important role in encouraging international humanitarian issues.

In addition to bringing physical aid, such as food, medical equipment, clothing, and so on, the GSF also plays a powerful symbolic role that is no less important. For example, when their ship was attacked by the Israeli navy, which occurred in October 2025, these volunteers did not show their fear of the Israeli navy (Kumparan, 2025). Instead, they showed and affirmed their determination to continue sailing to give freedom to the Palestinian people, especially in the Gaza Strip. The attitude shown by these volunteers reflects how the sense of transnational solidarity can transcend and eliminate their fear of repression. So, these people are actually not just volunteers but also a real form of global moral resistance to structural injustice.

The GSF movement also showed the world an important shift in international political practice. We can see that in humanitarian issues, which used to only move and become the realm of state diplomacy, it has now changed with the takeover by a global civil society network that has a common vision. The biggest challenge for the international community in dealing with this problem lies not only in the physical blockade of Gaza but also in the moral blockade that occurs here, which makes many countries reluctant to take action (Dall’Asta, 2025). For this reason, the GSF is here as the antithesis of state passivity, which shows countries and the whole world that if the citizens of the world unite and take collective action, then they can break through the global political impasse, as happened to the state.

From an academic point of view, the Sumud Flotilla has actually expanded the meaning of transnationalism, as explained by Scholte (2005) in his book entitled “Globalization: A Critical Introduction,” that social relations that cross national borders are built on the basis of shared values and goals, not because of national sovereignty. The GSF here affirms the existence of a global civil society that works in parallel with the nation-state system. In addition, this kind of cross-border solidarity can create a transnational form of humanity that is arguably more organic, so it means that the world community forms a network of collective action to deal with the ongoing global crisis.

Although this impact has not been able to end the blockade of Gaza, the existence of the GSF itself has had a great moral impact. This movement revived our awareness that in fact world politics does not only belong to the elite and the state but also belongs to all of us, belonging to the citizens of the world who care about it. Not only that, this movement also shows how a human value is able to penetrate walls or boundaries in geopolitics. This kind of initiative plays a very important role in building global awareness of what is happening in Palestine, that the struggle of the Palestinian people is a universal humanitarian struggle (Saleem & Khurshid, 2025).

Conclusion

The three arguments above, which focus on the origins and actors behind the GSF movement, the underlying and foundational humanitarian values, and its relevance as a manifestation of this transnational society, have shown that the Global Sumud Flotilla movement is a tangible form of cross-border solidarity on humanitarian issues in Palestine. This movement confirms to the world that the moral strength possessed by global civil society can be a real alternative to diplomacy that has repeatedly failed to uphold justice. Thus, we can conclude that the Global Sumud Flotilla is not only a symbol of humanitarian shipping but also a form of real representation of the birth of a transnational society that plays an active role in fighting for global humanity. And it also reminds us that true humanity does not know the state border but is something that is born or created from the collective consciousness to continue to sail against the injustice that exists in this world.

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.