southeast

At the end of Downderry’s shingle and sand, there’s a tumble of rocks and then a long beach stretching eastwards into the distance at the foot of the cliffs. Sitting on the rocks is a man with five raffish dogs that immediately start prowling around me and my partner, Sophie. A wet nose touches my bare calf.

Every long-distance trek has these decisive moments. The South West Coast Path has plenty. Should we stay on the beach, or take to the cliff? What’s the tide doing? And, more immediately, are these dogs going to bite my bum? It has happened to me once before.

“Nice dogs.”

The man shrugs. “They’re all right.”

That’s that sorted then.

“Is there a way up the cliff, off that beach?”

“See the rock?” He points into the far distance where a headland juts out. “Just before that, look for the blue rope. It’s a scramble.” He looks at us, like the director of Poldark assessing extras for a gruelling fight scene with Aidan Turner. “You should manage. Tide’s going out.” He gives a sly grin. “Lovely day for it.”

We thank him and set off. Every journey has its turning points, I reflect, especially when you push off from the safe haven of the guidebook and OS map into the uncharted waters of local knowledge. Boots crunching into shingle, I wonder why he grinned like that. Have we been duped?

I first came to the South West Coast Path as a teenager in 1978 when I heard on the radio that the entire 630-mile route was open. The statistics were what captured my imagination: climb four times the height of Everest, embark on 13 ferries, scale 436 stiles and pass 4,000 signs. That averaged out at one sign every 250 metres, on a path where the sea is always on one side. It was, I told my sceptical parents, impossible to get lost.

With a schoolmate, I hitchhiked to Plymouth where we immediately got lost and spent a miserable night in a concrete underpass. Next day, having hitched to Penzance, we began walking west and made it to Land’s End. It was less than heroic, but over subsequent years I’ve done a lot more of the path, perhaps even most of it. I did not, however, go back to Plymouth. Bad memories. Now I discover that the path west of the city is considered the “forgotten” section, the bit least visited. That intrigues me.

A glance at the map shows how modern road and rail links into Cornwall from Plymouth bypass a sizeable peninsula of land, the Rame, formed by the English Channel, Plymouth Sound, and the rivers Lynher and Tamar. Before those car and train routes were built, travellers bound for Cornwall would usually cross the Rame. They would go down to the city docks and get themselves rowed across the Hamoaze, as this stretch of the Tamar is known, no doubt weaving through a chaotic throng of smacks, sloops, gigs and galleons. In 1811, one such traveller was the artist JMW Turner, who had himself ferried across, then set off walking around the coast, carrying six blank sketchbooks, lots of pencils and a fishing rod. He had been commissioned to contribute to one of the first tourist guides, Picturesque Views on the Southern Coast of England. We are walking the same route, but in the opposite direction.

Back on the beach at Downderry, having checked the tide times on my phone, we decide to trust in the blue rope. At a point where the cliff leaves only a few feet of shingle to pass, we discover why the helpful dog-owner had grinned. There is a naked man standing in the shallows.

British naturism often seems to feature pot-bellied middle-aged men staring out to sea like goose-pimpled Gormley statues. Battern Cliffs, I discover later, is an informal naturist beach.

Further down the strand, past a couple more quasi-Gormleys, we find the blue rope and scramble up through a beautiful cool forest of holm oaks. The plant life on this walk is a never-ending joy: from the tiny details of delicate ferns and spleenworts to the huge columns of giant viper’s bugloss and this sepulchral forest. Buried within the shade, we find the ruins of a Victorian folly, St Germans Hut, and connect back to the coastal path, strolling in sunshine along the tops all the way to Portwrinkle.

When Turner came here, Cornwall was not the tourist honeypot of today. Just a few years before he arrived, the oracle of what was “picturesque”, the Rev William Gilpin, had denounced the county as being “without a single beauty to recommend it”. Other grandees were equally scathing: “brooding evil” and “hideous and wicked” were among the kinder comments. Turner, however, led the vanguard in reassessment, filling his notebooks with quick-fire sketches that deftly captured the spirit of the land.

After a night in a friendly B&B in Sheviock (the owners take us to their favourite pub, the defiantly quirky Rod and Line in Tideford), we rejoin the path at Whitsand golf course. Soon after that, we encounter the biggest irritation of the South West Coast Path, one Turner never had to contend with: the Ministry of Defence. Red flags are flying over Tregantle Down and we’re forced to use the road. I know the Russians are about to invade and we should get ready, but surely they will be repulsed when they see our coastal Gormleys?

Despite the MoD, the next section up to and around Rame Head is one of the best, skirting secret little sandy coves and finishing along Plymouth Sound into the pretty village of Cawsand. This place has a fine seafood restaurant, The Bay, and some good pubs. (There is also a foot passenger summer ferry to Plymouth if you want to skip ahead.)

We stay the night nearby, then walk through the shady 865-acre Mount Edgcumbe country park. The gardens are filled with camellia varieties, but I’ve just missed the flowers, sadly. Get there in May, I reckon.

Emerging on the Tamar River, we catch the Cremyll foot ferry across the Narrows to Plymouth. If I still have bitter memories of that night in the concrete underpass in 1978, they are soon dispelled. The revitalised Royal William Yard is now home to a brewery, cafes and art studios. The sun is shining and there are warships manoeuvring out in the Sound. We stroll around to the Hoe where, during the summer of 1815, huge crowds gathered to watch a pot-bellied middle-aged man stare out to sea from the deck of another warship, the 74-gun Battle of Trafalgar veteran, HMS Bellerophon. Her cargo was the captured Emperor Napoleon, held here before being shipped to Saint Helena. The crowds cheered, causing outrage in some quarters.

We wander down to the refurbished lido and spot a set of steps and terraces. The sea is full of people swimming out to a couple of floating platforms. I have swum every day of this walk and I do so again. Plymouth and this forgotten slice of Cornwall, I have to admit, has fully redeemed itself.

The trip was provided by Inntravel, which has a six-night walking tour of Cornwall’s south-east coast with breakfasts, luggage transfers and route maps from £1,035

Oct. 9 (UPI) — A strong 7.5-magnitude earthquake struck off the southeastern coast of the Philippines on Friday morning, according to seismologists. The extent of potential damage was not immediately clear.

The U.S. National Tsunami Warning Center said a tsunami is not expected for the western U.S. coast.

However, it warned of waves of up to nearly 10 feet for parts of the Philippines.

The Philippine Institute of Volcanology and Seismology, known as Phivolcs, is warning of waves of more than a meter, or 3.2 feet, to affect enclosed bays and straits.

Residents along coastal areas in eight provinces are “STRONGLY ADVISED TO IMMEDIATELY EVACUATE to higher grounds or move farther inland,” it said.

The quake struck at 9:43 a.m. PHT Friday about 27 miles off the coast of Manay in the southeastern province of Davao Oriental, according to a statement from Phivolcs, which said damage was expected. It had initially rated it a magnitude-7.6 earthquake.

The agency said it struck at a depth of 12 miles.

The U.S. Geological Survey rated the quake at magnitude 7.4 and the depth 36 miles.

Aftershocks were expected, with 11 having struck within an hour of the original temblor, the strongest being a 5.2 magnitude temblor.

President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. said in a statement that the situation on the ground is being assessed, and that federal agencies, including the military, have been deployed to conduct evacuations in coastal areas and activate emergency communication lines.

“Search, rescue and relief operations are already being prepared and will be deployed as soon as it is safe to do so,” he said in a statement.

“We are working round the clock to ensure that help reaches everyone who needs it.”

The provincial government of Davao Oriental has ordered the suspension of all public and private classes and work in public and private offices.

The city government of Davao similarly canceled all classes at both private and public schools and suspended all government work until further notice except for services in security, health, social services and disaster and emergency response due to the temblor. Private offices are encouraged to follow suit.

The earthquake struck two weeks after more than 70 people were killed in a 6.9-magnitude earthquake that hit Cebu Province late last month.

The hum of a generator was the sound of success for Uzor Igwe. In his small but bustling workshop in Lilu town, Anambra State, southeastern Nigeria, the 38-year-old master technician could detect a faulty coil or a clogged carburettor just by listening. His grease-stained hands were tools of precision, restoring electricity to homes and businesses. For years, he was a pillar of his community, a man who fixed things.

Today, the only thing Uzor is trying to fix is his life. He now lives in Asaba, in the country’s South South, where the sound of generators is a painful reminder of all he has lost.

Uzor’s story is the human cost of the violence that has transformed his hometown of Lilu into a part of a larger place locals fearfully call “another Sambisa,” alluding to the famous Sambisa forest in faraway northeastern Nigeria, where Boko Haram combatants have taken shelter. His thriving generator repair business, built over 15 years, was ultimately another casualty of gunmen who held his community hostage.

“I had two apprentices, three benches full of tools I collected over a lifetime, and customers from three local governments,” Uzor recalls. “On a good week, I could fix ten, fifteen generators. I was training others; I was providing. I was happy.”

The winds of fear now sweep through the forests and farmlands of southeastern Nigeria. Once-vibrant towns have withered into haunted shells of their former selves, as armed Indigenous Peoples of Biafra (IPOB) fighters and their affiliates loom over daily life.

Police officers often wear muftis to avoid being targeted. “Everyone is afraid to speak,” said a senior police officer who served in Imo for “two dreaded years” before he begged his superiors to transfer him to Abuja, Nigeria’s federal capital. The climate of fear over the daily loss of lives, rape of women, and trade across the region is palpable.

At the core of this situation is a complex combination of separatist unrest, violent crimes like murders committed against civilians and state actors, and arson on official facilities and assets that is comparable to terrorism, as well as a lack of effective official security.

Fleeing home with nothing

The descent began around 2021. IPOB, a separatist group long declared a terror group by the Nigerian government, were violent in their efforts to establish an independent country of Biafra in the country’s South East and some parts of the South-South. 

They enforced an illegal sit-at-home order on Mondays and Thursdays, which crippled businesses like Uzor’s, brutalised citizens, and spread propaganda online. The order was a protest to the government to release the group’s leader, Nnamdi Kanu, who had been in detention for years. 

Since then, over 700 people have been killed by the group, and economic losses are estimated at ₦7.6 trillion, according to SBM Intelligence. 

In Lilu, the sounds of power bikes and sporadic gunfire began to compete with the hum of Uzor’s generators. Customers became too afraid to venture out. His apprentices, fearing being conscripted or caught in the crossfire, stopped coming. 

HumAngle had previously collected open-source data from over 100 locations in the South East to track the effect of the sit-at-home order on businesses like Uzor’s and public spaces. We found that Anambra, where he was located, experienced 11 reported cases of violence from the group in efforts to ensure compliance with the order last year. The threat of violence has resulted in significantly lower activity in the region than in other parts of the country on those days.

“The final straw was not even for me, but for my family,” Uzor says, his gaze dropping. His father, a retired teacher, passed away from illness in early 2024. Instead of a time for mourning and tradition, the family was plunged into a grotesque negotiation.

“We were told we had to pay a levy to bury our own father,” Uzor explains, the absurdity of the statement still raw. “₦200,000 for permission to lay a good man to rest. The same boys who might have been responsible for killing our neighbours were now taxing our grief. We paid. What choice did we have? But paying for my father’s burial with that money… it killed something in me.”

He knew then that Lilu could no longer be his home. The risk of being killed for refusing to comply, or for simply being in the wrong place, was too high. With his business already dead, he feared his life would be next.

With only what they could carry, Uzor, his wife, and their two young children fled under the cover of night, becoming displaced people in their country. They left behind his workshop, his tools, his client ledger—the entire architecture of his livelihood.

Picking the pieces 

Now in Asaba, he is starting from zero. The small room he rents doubles as a home and a struggling new workshop. His tools are a cheap, basic set. He has no network, no reputation, and is just one of many technicians in a crowded city.

“Here, I am nobody. I have to beg for jobs that pay little. I compete with boys half my age,” he says, wiping his hands on a rag that sees less grease these days. “Sometimes a whole week will pass, and this toolbox will not even open.”

The struggle is both financial and psychological; the confidence of a master craftsman has been replaced by the anxiety of a newcomer.

“In Lilu, I was Uzor, the man who could fix anything,” he adds. “Here, I am just a man from the troubled East, trying to survive. I lost my community, my identity, and my father’s grave is in a land I am now afraid to visit.”

He prays for peace, not just for the safety of those left behind, but for the chance to one day reclaim the fragments of the life he was forced to abandon.

‘My grandmother, a widow, sold her livestock in the 1940s and bought this land to start a vineyard. That’s where she made the wine,” says Pepa Fernández proudly, pointing towards a weathered building no bigger than a garden shed. We’re standing between two fields on a chalky road skirted by poppies, daisies and thistles. One field is lined with neat rows of lush vines, the other with small bush vines soon to bear monastrell grapes (the most dominant variety in these parts). In the distance, a sandy-coloured mountain range peppered with pine trees sits beneath a cloudless blue sky.

Pocket-sized Pepa is the face of Bodega Balcona, a family-run organic winery in Spain’s south-eastern province of Murcia. The vineyard lies in the picturesque Aceniche valley, in Bullas – one of Murcia’s three wine DOPs (denominaciónes de origen protegida), alongside Yecla and Jumilla. Each has its own wine route, scattered with museums and vineyards.

My girlfriend and I are in the area to explore Murcia’s food and drink scene after a tipoff from an old friend who grew up in the city (Murcia is the name of both the province and its capital). The province hosted two of Spain’s most prestigious culinary events last year: the Repsol Guide Soles gala and the Michelin Guide gala.

“Murcia is one of the best food cities in Spain,” a suave Granada-based gentleman in a fedora tells me on the way to the tasting room. We soon learn that its wine is pretty special, too, as we make our way through Bodega Balcona’s roster of earthy natural wines. Each glass is paired with national and regional dishes: cold cuts, local cheeses, almonds, tuna empanadas, and a Murcian favourite made by Pepa’s nephew, pastel de carne – a hearty meat and egg pie topped with flaky pastry.

After, we drive to the nearby Salto del Usero waterfall, where kids are paddling and teenagers are sunning themselves on rocks, like lizards. Following a quick dip in the chilly plunge pool, we go to meet Paco Franciso Muñoz Reales, who runs an organic farm nearby with his German wife, Heidi.

Laid-back and softly spoken, Paco is part of a local cooperative of growers, including Pepa, using ecological farming methods. He explains there was a little bit of tension with local farmers when he first started, but things have settled down. On a tour of his five-hectare estate, he shows me a seed bank tucked inside a pantry, rows of apricot, olive and lemon trees, and a tomato patch.

Nicknamed the garden of Europe, Murcia accounts for around 20% of Spain’s fruit and vegetable exports. This agricultural heritage stems from a vast network of fertile gardens, or huertos, that surround the city of Murcia, where baroque buildings, palm-lined riverbanks and buzzing tapas bars cluster around Plaza de las Flores. La Huerta de Murcia, as the fertile area is called, also influences local food culture, with Sundays traditionally reserved for family meals at rustic restaurants.

Each spring, the city also throws the Bando de la Huerta festival – a lively celebration of rural life where locals don traditional dress and feast on regional dishes. We arrive a few weeks later, so instead visit the rustic El Cañal Los Almillas restaurant, where we tuck into heaped platters of beef entrecote dusted with a layer of rock salt, and a fresh tomato salad with olives and lettuce, accompanied by plates of lemon (Murcianos squeeze lemon on everything). We finish with a classic Murcian dessert of crispy, deep-fried paparajotes – battered lemon leaves served with a dollop of ice-cream.

The restaurant is named after the city’s canal system, which are part of an irrigation system dating back to Moorish times. “Think of it as the Segura River being the heart and the canals the veins that deliver the blood,” our guide, Antonio, explains.

David López, the chef at the fine-dining restaurant Local de Ensayo, tells us these ancient systems are still in use today as he shows us around his huerto. López visits his patch daily, growing everything from lettuce, beans and cucumber to strawberries and aubergines. Fruit and vegetables feature prominently in traditional Murcian cooking, in dishes such as ensalada murciana (tomato salad with tuna, olives and egg) and arroz con verduras (rice with vegetables).

“It’s a way of life for me, somewhere I can bring the children to plant things and watch them grow,” López says while trudging through the mud, checking his crops. About 20% of the produce used in his restaurant comes from his garden, the rest being supplied by an ecological farmer with a stall at Verónicas market, which sells fruit, vegetables, meat, fish and olive oil to the city.

López and his wife, Carmen, show us around the market, pointing out local delicacies like mújol (mullet), almendra marcona (almonds), langostino del Mar Menor (langoustines) and alficoz (a type of curly cucumber). We finish at Café Bar Verónicas, which to the untrained eye looks like any other neighbourhood bar: metal countertops, shelves of pickled vegetables and wine, and locals chatting loudly. However, framed newspaper reviews hint at something more.

It’s run by Samuel Ruiz and his wife, Isabel Torrecillas. The young, tattooed chef could be Spain’s Anthony Bourdain. Ruiz, who trained at the famed El Bulli, was responsible for one of Murcia’s most exciting restaurants, Kome, a tiny Japanese-style tavern. “They didn’t have social media. No website. Nothing. But people still queued down the street,” Torrecillas tells us. Ruiz decided to shut down Kome and return to his roots, opening a barra with a twist in the heart of town, she explains as a plate of caballito (little horse in Spanish) lands on the table. The popular local dish usually features deep-fried prawns, only here it’s made with fist-sized crayfish, shell and all. It’s followed by a good-sized bowl of marinera, a kind of Russian salad with anchovies, served with crisp bread and homemade mayo.

When I ask Ruiz what sauce he’s plating up, he squirts a dot on to the back of my hand. “Try it,” he grins confidently. It is a delicious homemade saffron mayonnaise with anchovy, lemon and garlic. A frozen cocktail with an umbrella appears moments later, sent from his other bar next door, Colmado San Julián.

We finish up and say our goodbyes before wandering over to López’s restaurant. As we enter, he vanishes without a word and we’re seated by a window peering into the kitchen. Dishes soon arrive at the table from his excellent tasting menu (from about £65), which champions local, seasonal ingredients. Standout plates include a wild mushroom dish packed with umami, a deep-flavoured red Calasparra rice with vegetables, and his excellent signature dessert, a cross between a flan and a crème brûlée (a favourite of the legendary Spanish food critic José Carlos Capel).

The next day we drive 45 minutes out of town to Casa Borrego – a cosy eight-room gastronomic hotel with soft bucolic rooms and a burbling beck outside. For dinner, we’re treated to an elevated take on Murcian cuisine, including pani puri balls exploding with tuna tartare, and a massive pan of rich rabbit rice. Retiring to bed, we’re lulled to sleep by the sound of trickling water. With our time in Murcia nearly up, the following day we zip back to the city to hunt down one last dish: zarangollo, a simple courgette-and-egg scramble. We find it at a traditional tapas bar called Bodegón Los Toneles – all jamón legs and chalkboard menus.

We end the trip as we began with a local tipple, this time at CaféLab. Asiático is a heady blend of condensed milk, Licor 43, cognac and spices – said to hail from Cartagena. Like Murcia’s cuisine, its richness lies in the subtle layers – each one revealing something original, unexpected and distinctly its own.

The trip was provided by Turismo de Murcia. Sercotel Amistad Murcia has doubles from around €60 room-only; Casa Borrego has doubles from €120 B&B

Development financing to Southeast Asia is expected to fall by more than $2bn in 2026 due to recent cutbacks by Western governments, according to a major Australian think tank.

The Sydney-based Lowy Institute predicted in a new report on Sunday that development assistance to Southeast Asia will drop to $26.5bn next year from $29bn in 2023.

The figures are billions of dollars below the pre-pandemic average of $33bn.

Bilateral funding is also expected to fall by 20 percent from about $11bn in 2023 to $9bn in 2026, the report said.

The cuts will hit poorer countries in the regions hardest, and “social sector priorities such as health, education, and civil society support that rely on bilateral aid funding are likely to lose out the most”, the report said.

Fewer alternatives

Cuts by Europe and the United Kingdom have been made to redirect funds as NATO members plan to raise defence spending to 5 percent of gross domestic product (GDP) in the shadow of Russia’s war on Ukraine.

The European Union and seven European governments will cut foreign aid by $17.2bn between 2025 and 2029, while this year, the UK announced it will cut foreign aid spending by $7.6bn annually, the report said.

The greatest upset has come from the United States, where earlier this year, President Donald Trump shut down the US Agency for International Development (USAID) and slashed nearly $60bn in foreign assistance. More recently, the US Senate took steps to claw back another $8bn in spending.

The Lowy Institute said governments closer to home, like China, will play an increasingly important role in the development landscape.

“The centre of gravity in Southeast Asia’s development finance landscape looks set to drift East, notably to Beijing but also Tokyo and Seoul,” the report said. “Combined with potentially weakening trade ties with the United States, Southeast Asian countries risk finding themselves with fewer alternatives to support their development.”

After experiencing a sharp decline during the COVID-19 pandemic, Chinese overseas development assistance has started to bounce back, reaching $4.9bn in 2023, according to the report.

Its spending, however, focuses more on infrastructure projects, like railways and ports, rather than social sector issues, the report said. Beijing’s preference for non-concessional loans given at commercial rates benefits Southeast Asia’s middle- and high-income countries, but is less helpful for its poorest, like Cambodia, Myanmar, Laos and East Timor.

As China and institutions like the World Bank and the Asian Development Bank play a more prominent role in Southeast Asia, less clear is how Japan and South Korea can fill in the blanks, according to experts.

Japan, South Korea

Grace Stanhope, a Lowy Institute research associate and one of the report’s authors, told Al Jazeera that both countries have expanded their development assistance to include civil society projects.

“[While] Japanese and Korean development support is often less overtly ‘values-based’ than traditional Western aid, we’ve been seeing Japan especially move into the governance and civil society sectors, with projects in 2023 that are explicitly focused on democracy and protection of vulnerable migrants, for example,” she said.

“The same is true of [South] Korea, which has recently supported projects for improving the transparency of Vietnamese courts and protection of women from gender-based violence, so the approach of the Japanese and Korean development programmes is evolving beyond just infrastructure.”

Tokyo and Seoul, however, are facing similar pressures as Europe from the Trump administration to increase their defence budgets, cutting into their development assistance.

Shiga Hiroaki, a professor at the Graduate School of International Social Sciences at Yokohama National University, said he was more “pessimistic” that Japan could step in to fill the gaps left by the West.

He said cuts could even be made as Tokyo ramps up defence spending to a historic high, and a “Japanese-first” right-wing party pressures the government to redirect funds back home.

“Considering Japan’s huge fiscal deficit and public opposition to tax increases, it is highly likely that the aid budget will be sacrificed to fund defence spending,” he said.

China has agreed to sign a Southeast Asian treaty banning nuclear weapons, Malaysia’s and China’s foreign ministers confirmed, in a move that seeks to shield the area from rising global security tensions amid the threat of imminent United States tariffs.

The pledge from Beijing was welcomed as diplomats gathered for the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) foreign ministers’ meeting, where US Secretary of State Marco Rubio is also due to meet regional counterparts and Russian counterpart Sergey Lavrov.

Malaysia’s Minister of Foreign Affairs Mohamad Hasan told reporters on Thursday that China had confirmed its willingness to sign the Southeast Asian Nuclear Weapon-Free Zone (SEANWFZ) treaty – an agreement in force since 1997 that restricts nuclear activity in the region to peaceful purposes such as energy generation.

“China made a commitment to ensure that they will sign the treaty without reservation,” Hasan said, adding that the formal signing will take place once all relevant documentation is completed.

ASEAN has long pushed for the world’s five recognised nuclear powers – China, the United States, Russia, France and the United Kingdom – to sign the pact and respect the region’s non-nuclear status, including within its exclusive economic zones and continental shelves.

Last week, Beijing signalled its readiness to support the treaty and lead by example among nuclear-armed states.

Rubio, who is on his first visit to Asia as secretary of state, arrived in Kuala Lumpur on Thursday amid a cloud of uncertainty caused by President Donald Trump’s aggressive tariff strategy, which includes new levies on six ASEAN nations as well as key traditional allies Japan and South Korea.

The tariffs, set to take effect on August 1, include a 25 percent duty on Malaysia, 32 percent on Indonesia, 36 percent on Cambodia and Thailand, and 40 percent on Laos and Myanmar.

Japan and South Korea have each been hit with 25 percent tariffs, while Australia – another significant Asia Pacific ally – has reacted angrily to threats of a 200 percent duty on pharmaceutical exports to the US.

Vietnam, an ASEAN nation, along with the UK, are the only two countries to have signed separate trade deals with the US, whose administration had boasted they would have 90 deals in 90 days.

The US will place a lower-than-promised 20 percent tariff on many Vietnamese exports, Trump has said, cooling tensions with its 10th-biggest trading partner days before he could raise levies on most imports. Any transshipments from third countries through Vietnam will face a 40 percent levy, Trump said, announcing the trade deal on Wednesday. Vietnam would accept US products with a zero percent tariff, he added.

Reporting from Kuala Lumpur, Al Jazeera’s Rob McBride says Southeast Asian nations are finding themselves at the centre of intensifying diplomatic competition, as global powers look to strengthen their influence in the region.

“The ASEAN countries are facing some of the highest tariffs from the Trump administration,” McBride said. “They were also among the first to receive new letters announcing yet another delay in the imposition of these tariffs, now pushed to 1 August.”

The uncertainty has pushed ASEAN states to seek alternative trade partners, most notably China. “These tariffs have provided an impetus for all of these ASEAN nations to seek out closer trade links with other parts of the world,” McBride added.

China’s Foreign Minister Wang Yi has been in Kuala Lumpur for meetings with ASEAN counterparts, underscoring Beijing’s growing engagement.

Meanwhile, Russia’s top diplomat, Sergey Lavrov, has also been holding talks in Malaysia, advancing Moscow’s vision of a “multipolar world order” – a concept backed by China that challenges what they see as a Western-led global system dominated by the US.

“Lavrov might be shunned in other parts of the world,” McBride noted, “but he is here in Malaysia, meeting with ASEAN members and promoting this alternative global structure.”

At the same time, Rubio is aiming to counter that narrative and ease tensions. “Many ASEAN members are traditional allies of the United States,” McBride said. “But they are somewhat nervous about the tariffs and recent US foreign policy moves. Rubio is here to reassure them that all is well in trans-Pacific relations.”

As geopolitical rivalry intensifies, ASEAN finds itself courted from all directions, with the power to influence the future shape of international alliances.

US seeks to rebuild confidence in ASEAN

Rubio’s presence in Kuala Lumpur signals Washington, DC’s intention to revive its Asia Pacific focus following years of prioritising conflicts in Europe and the Middle East.

The last meeting between Rubio and Russia’s top diplomats took place in Saudi Arabia in February as part of the Trump administration’s effort to re-establish bilateral relations and help negotiate an end to the war in Ukraine.

Analysts say Rubio faces a difficult task of rebuilding confidence with Southeast Asian countries unnerved by the US’s trade policies. Despite the economic fallout, he is expected to try and promote the US as a more dependable alternative to China in terms of both security and long-term investment.

According to a draft communique obtained by Reuters, ASEAN foreign ministers will express “concern over rising global trade tensions and growing uncertainties in the international economic landscape, particularly the unilateral actions relating to tariffs”.

Separately, a meeting involving top diplomats from Southeast Asia, China, Russia and the United States will condemn violence against civilians in war-torn Myanmar, according to a draft statement seen Thursday by AFP.

ASEAN has led diplomatic efforts to end Myanmar’s many-sided civil war sparked by a military coup in 2021.

In the international relations structures in Southeast Asia, “strategic trust” acts as a glue between countries that are diverse in terms of institutions, histories, and national interests. Strategic trust can be understood as the extent to which one country believes that another country will not harm its core interests, even in the absence of strong enforcement mechanisms. This is not blind trust but calculated trust, based on consistent behavior, policy transparency, and commitment to complying with common rules of the game. In Southeast Asia, strategic trust is not only the foundation for bilateral cooperation but also a prerequisite for building the ASEAN Political-Security Community (APSC) according to the roadmap by 2025.

The relationship between Thailand and Cambodia is a case in point, reflecting the complex and fragile nature of strategic trust in the region. There have been periods of serious border conflicts, such as the dispute over the Preah Vihear temple area in 2008–2011, and the two countries have repeatedly been embroiled in military tensions. Although bilateral relations have stabilized under Hun Sen and subsequent civilian governments in Bangkok, underlying factors such as anti-Cambodian sentiment in the Thai military and a lack of transparency in the handling of migrant workers and border issues persist. In this context, the ASEAN institution, with its principles of non-interference and consensus, has shown its limits even more clearly. When tensions flare up, ASEAN often lacks effective tools for coordination and mediation, leading to a situation of “every man for himself” and dependence on personal relationships between leaders.

The leak of an audio recording between Thai Prime Minister Paetongtarn Shinawatra and Cambodian Senate President Hun Sen in June 2025 is a typical example of the failure of strategic trust in a loose institutional framework like ASEAN.

What is remarkable about the incident is not only the content of the call but also the nature of the diplomatic form used. The 17-minute exchange was conducted outside official channels and was marked by an excessively intimate tone: Ms. Paetongtarn called Mr. Hun Sen “uncle” and agreed with him to ignore criticism from a Thai military general. This reflects the deeply personal political model in both countries. In Thailand, “Thaksinism” is not just a political phenomenon but also a family-based power structure, where the Shinawatra clan still holds great influence in politics, despite opposition from the military and royalists. In Cambodia, “Hun Senism” is a symbol of decades of personal rule, where Mr. Hun Sen and his family control almost all state power, passing the throne to his son without any real democratic competition.

The leaked audio recordings reveal a number of statements that have crossed the line on the military and security. Notably, the Thai military’s disdain for Ms. Paetongtarn’s response to her claim that the generals were just “showing off” is a provocative and insulting statement to the military, which has staged coups to overthrow governments led by her family. In addition, the fact that the prime minister of one country made such a clear statement in favor of another country’s leader on a potentially disputed border issue has touched the limits of domestic and international strategic trust. Not surprisingly, shortly afterwards, the Bhumjaithai Party—the second largest partner in the ruling coalition—announced its withdrawal from the government, citing the serious damage to the honor of the nation and the military.

Hun Sen’s role in releasing the recording has further complicated the situation. While Cambodia has said that Hun Sen simply wanted to “clarify the truth” after the first nine minutes of the recording were leaked earlier, observers have said that the release of the entire transcript was politically calculated. On the one hand, it helped Hun Sen demonstrate his status as a “great friend” of Thailand while sending a message to the Thai military that they should not underestimate his influence. On the other hand, he also unintentionally—or intentionally—put the Thai Prime Minister in a difficult position when Ms. Paetongtarn was forced to apologize publicly, undermining her reputation and legitimacy at home.

The impact of the leaked audio recording between Thai Prime Minister Paetongtarn Shinawatra and Cambodian Senate President Hun Sen goes beyond the bilateral level, spreading like a domino effect to many levels of national political structures, international relations, and institutional functioning of ASEAN. At each level, this incident highlights the fragility of strategic trust while exposing the gaps in the ability to control and institutionalize individual power in Southeast Asia.

For Thailand, the political consequences are profound and potentially long-lasting. Internally, Paetongtarn’s government—newly formed with the support of the Shinawatra family—is on the brink of collapse after the Bhumjaithai Party, the second-largest partner in the ruling coalition, announced its withdrawal. This move not only created a parliamentary majority crisis but also cost Paetongtarn her already fragile political legitimacy and credibility as the “political heir” to her father, Thaksin Shinawatra. Polls after the event showed that the government’s approval rating plummeted, while support for the military’s role as a guarantor of national stability increased significantly.

The Thai military—which has traditionally been deeply involved in politics—now has a new justification for acting in the name of “protecting national honor and the face of the military.” The coups of 2006 and 2014 were both carried out in the name of maintaining stability and countering the influence of the Shinawatra family. This time, a civilian leader directly insulting the generals and showing subservience to foreign leaders could be interpreted as a threat to national security. In this context, the possibility of the military intervening, directly or indirectly, is a very real risk. This raises questions about the future of Thailand’s young democratic system, which has been repeatedly disrupted by military coups.

For Cambodia, this event can be seen by Hun Sen as a tactical victory in domestic affairs. The release of the entire recording demonstrates his proactive control of information and public opinion and helps him affirm his role as a powerful regional figure, despite having stepped down from the position of prime minister. In the eyes of the Cambodian public, Hun Sen is praised as someone who maintains his influence in foreign affairs and takes the initiative against a larger country like Thailand. However, on the international level, the release of a private recording between two heads of state may raise doubts about Phnom Penh’s diplomatic credibility. The deliberate release of confidential information will make other partners—both within and outside ASEAN—more cautious in all forms of high-level contact with Cambodian leaders. This, in the long term, may cause Cambodia to be partially isolated in strategic diplomatic channels or at least lose its image as a responsible partner in the region.

In terms of bilateral relations, Hun Sen’s release of the full transcript of the call also puts Thailand in a vulnerable position, forcing the Paetongtarn government to publicly apologize. This is an extremely dangerous diplomatic precedent, especially in the context of the two countries still having unresolved historical disputes. Without a clear and in-depth trust-building strategy from both sides, Thai-Cambodian relations risk taking a major step backward. Any efforts to build trust through defense, border security, and labor cooperation channels could be frozen or shifted to a state of precaution.

Regionally, the impact of this event is systemic for ASEAN. First of all, the incident has seriously undermined strategic trust within the bloc. ASEAN countries, which are already very cautious about sharing information and coordinating security, will now be even more cautious in high-level communications if they are concerned that the content may be leaked or exploited for internal political purposes. The fact that a high-level leader was recorded and then released in full without any official response from ASEAN shows the inability of this organization to handle internal crises. ASEAN does not have any mechanism to investigate, intervene, or mediate in bilateral diplomatic crises, especially when they do not take the form of traditional armed conflicts.

In addition, this incident also sets a dangerous precedent for the entire regional diplomatic culture: when personal relationships can be recorded, edited, disseminated, and exploited for political purposes. This breaks the unwritten norms of ASEAN diplomacy, where friendliness and discretion are considered the foundation. If this trend continues, regional leaders will gradually lose trust in each other, and instead there will be a permanent state of hidden tension. More importantly, strategic rivals outside the region, such as China or the United States, can take advantage of these trust gaps to amplify internal ASEAN conflicts. If any member state feels threatened or betrayed, it can turn to external powers as a strategic counterweight, leading to polarization in regional foreign policy and seriously weakening ASEAN’s neutrality in the Asia-Pacific security architecture.

Recent developments are a wake-up call for Southeast Asia on the need to institutionalize and make transparent strategic diplomatic channels. First, countries need to establish clear standards for high-level contacts between leaders—including confidentiality, recording, and public statements. Calls or personal contacts between leaders should be coordinated by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and controlled by an official system to ensure accountability and information security. Second, ASEAN countries need to strengthen the role of professional diplomacy, limiting the use of backroom channels or friendly relationships as tools to resolve crises. In a region where individual leaders can change quickly, betting on personal relationships is a risky strategy.

ASEAN also needs to rethink its operating model. It is necessary to establish an early warning mechanism for intra-bloc diplomatic crises, as well as a code of conduct for senior leaders in bilateral contacts. This is not to control or limit the freedom of leaders but to ensure that individual actions do not undermine the foundation of shared trust. In the long term, a strong ASEAN security community can only be built if member states agree to abandon the mindset of “personal politics” and replace it with institutionalized, accountable, and transparent diplomacy.

Bangkok, Thailand – A brief text message informed Chonlada Siangkong that she had lost her job at a solar cell factory in Rayong, eastern Thailand.

The factory operated by Standard Energy Co, a subsidiary of Singaporean solar cell giant GSTAR, shut its doors last month in anticipation of United States President Donald Trump’s tariffs on solar panel exports from Southeast Asia.

From Monday, US Customs and Border Protection will begin imposing tariffs ranging from 375 percent to more than 3,500 percent on imports from Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam and Malaysia.

The punishing duties, introduced in response to alleged unfair trade practices by Chinese-owned factories in the region, have raised questions about the continuing viability of Southeast Asia’s solar export trade, the source of about 80 percent of solar products sold in the US.

Like thousands of other workers in Thailand and across the region, Chonlada, a 33-year-old mother of one, is suddenly facing a more precarious future amid the trade crackdown.

“We were all shocked. The next day, they told us not to come to work and would not pay for compensation,” Chonlada told Al Jazeera.

US officials say Chinese producers have used Southeast Asian countries to skirt tariffs on China and “dump” cheap solar panels in the US market, harming their businesses.

US trade officials have named Jinko Solar, Trina Solar, Taihua New Energy Hounen, Sunshine Electrical Energy, Runergy and Boviet – all of which have major operations in Thailand, Malaysia, Cambodia or Vietnam – as the worst offenders.

Thai solar exports to the US were worth more than $3.7bn in 2023, just behind Vietnam at $3.9bn, according to the latest US trade data.

Standard Energy Co’s $300m facility in Rayong had been in operation for less than a year, producing its first solar cell to great fanfare in August.

“I’m baffled by what’s just happened,” Kanyawee, a production line manager at Standard Energy who asked to be referred to by his first name only, told Al Jazeera.

“New machines have just landed and we barely used them, they’re very costly too – a few million baht for each machine. They’ve also ordered tonnes of raw materials waiting to be produced.”

Ben McCarron, managing director of the risk consultancy Asia Research & Engagement, said Southeast Asian manufacturers are facing a serious hit from the US turn towards protectionism.

“There are suggestions that manufacturing might exit Southeast Asia entirely if tariffs are introduced either in a blanket way, or that specifically address Chinese-owned manufacturing capacity in the region,” McCarron told Al Jazeera.

“The implications are significant for these countries; Thailand, Vietnam, Cambodia, and Malaysia accounted for about 80 percent of the US’s solar imports in 2024,” McCarron said, adding that “some manufacturers have already begun shutting down and moving out of the region”.

Unfair advantage

US officials and businesses have accused China of giving its solar firms an unfair market advantage with subsidies.

China was the largest funder of clean energy in Southeast Asia between 2013 and 2023, pouring $2.7bn into projects in Indonesia, Malaysia, the Philippines, Thailand, and Vietnam, according to Zero Carbon Analytics.

The American Alliance for Solar Manufacturing Trade Committee, a coalition of seven industry players, was among the loudest voices to lobby for a sharp rise in levies on Chinese imports.

Without a reprieve from the notoriously unpredictable Trump, companies affected by the tariffs have little recourse apart from the ability to file an appeal once a year, or after five years, once a “sunset review” clause takes effect.

Some observers believe the sector may never recover.

“It’s not just the low-skilled labour that was affected by the trade war; many workers in the solar cell supply chain are technicians, skilled labourers,” Tara Buakamsri, an adviser to environmental organisation Greenpeace, told Al Jazeera.

“Even if you make a lot of savings, solar cell exporters would still need to cut down on these skilled workers.”

Others take a more bullish view, arguing that, once the dust has settled, Chinese solar firms will drive the supply of products needed to meet regional emissions targets.

While Thailand, Cambodia, Malaysia and Vietnam welcomed Chinese solar companies in part due to the large sums of up-front investment on offer, they are all also seeking to meet more of their energy needs with cleaner sources.

Before Trump entered office with his tariff agenda, Thailand had announced plans to become carbon neutral by 2050 and produce net-zero greenhouse gas emissions by 2065.

“A slowdown [or halt] in solar exports as a result of US tariffs may supercharge efforts in Southeast Asian markets by Chinese solar companies, which see the region as a critical and well-aligned destination for green technologies,” McCarron said.

“Leftover supply from slowing exports could be absorbed by domestic markets in Thailand, Malaysia, Cambodia, Vietnam, particularly if governments use the situation as a cost-effective opportunity to rapidly accelerate policy initiatives that stimulate domestic solar.”

For Southeast Asia’s solar companies, survival is also likely to depend on governments cutting red tape and loosening the control of oil and gas monopolies over the energy mix.

At the same time, the US’s exclusion of Southeast Asian solar imports could hamper the shift towards greener energy in the world’s top economy.

“Thailand’s solar cell production is heavily export-driven and the US has historically been a major export destination,” Pavida Pananond, a professor of international business at Thammasat Business School in Bangkok, told Al Jazeera.

But solar tariffs will “also hurt American consumers and the green transition in the US as prices become higher”.

They’ve long been hedging their bets.
But Southeast Asian nations are caught in the dispute between the United States and China.
The trade-dependent countries are under threat from Trump’s tariffs, too.
They face a delicate balancing act between economic survival and strategic neutrality.
The message was clear at the Association of Southeast Asian Nations – ASEAN’s recent summit in the Malaysian capital Kuala Lumpur.
Member countries are recalibrating their economic partnerships to insulate their economies.
That includes a push to deepen trade ties with China and Gulf countries.

Why is the price of Japanese rice rocketing?

Plus, should older people work longer?

The Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC), China and the 10-member Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) agreed to “chart a unified and collective path towards a peaceful, prosperous, and just future”, following their meeting in the Malaysian capital, Kuala Lumpur.

In a world roiled by United States President Donald Trump’s threats of crippling tariffs and rising economic uncertainties, alternative centres of global power were on full display, with the GCC and China attending the ASEAN summit for the group’s inaugural trilateral meeting on Tuesday.

In their joint statement released on Wednesday, the GCC – comprising Bahrain, Kuwait, Oman, Qatar, Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates – China, and ASEAN members Indonesia, Singapore, Malaysia, Thailand, Vietnam, Philippines, Brunei, Cambodia, Laos and Myanmar said they were committed to enhancing economic cooperation.

Chief among that cooperation will be the promotion of free trade, the signatories said, adding they looked “forward to the early completion of the GCC-China Free Trade Agreement negotiations” and the upgrading of the ASEAN-China free trade area.

“We reaffirm our collective resolve to work hand in hand to unleash the full potential of our partnership, and ensure that our cooperation translates into tangible benefits for our peoples and societies,” they said.

Malaysia’s Prime Minister Anwar Ibrahim – whose country is currently chair of ASEAN and hosted the summits – told a news conference that the US remains an important market while also noting that ASEAN, the GCC, and China collectively represent a combined gross domestic product (GDP) of $24.87 trillion with a total population of about 2.15 billion.

“This collective scale offers vast opportunities to synergise our markets, deepen innovation, and promote cross-regional investment,” Anwar said.

The prime minister went on to dismiss suggestions that the ASEAN bloc of nations was leaning excessively towards China, stressing that the regional grouping remained committed to maintaining balanced engagement with all major powers, including the US.

James Chin, professor of Asian studies at the University of Tasmania in Australia, told Al Jazeera that the tripartite meeting was particularly important for China, which is being “given a platform where the US is not around”.

ASEAN and the GCC “already view China as a global power”, Chin said.

‘The Gulf is very rich, ASEAN is a tiger, China…’

China’s Premier Li Qiang, who attended the summit, said Beijing was ready to work with the GCC and ASEAN “on the basis of mutual respect and equality”.

China will work with “ASEAN and the GCC to strengthen the alignment of development strategies, increase macro policy coordination, and deepen collaboration on industrial specialisation,” he said.

Former Malaysian ambassador to the US Mohamed Nazri bin Abdul Aziz said China was “quickly filling up the vacuum” in global leadership felt in many countries in the aftermath of Trump’s tariff threats.

The economic future looks bright, Nazri said, for ASEAN, China and the Gulf countries, where economies are experiencing high growth rates while the US and European Union face stagnation.

“The Gulf is very rich, ASEAN is a tiger, China… I cannot even imagine where the future lies,” Nazri said.

Jaideep Singh, an analyst with the Institute of Strategic & International Studies in Malaysia, said ASEAN’s trade with GCC countries has been experiencing rapid growth.

Total trade between ASEAN and the Gulf countries stood at some $63bn as of 2024, making GCC the fifth-largest external trading partner of the regional bloc, while Malaysia’s trade with the GCC grew by 60 percent from 2019 to 2024.

In terms of foreign direct investment, FDI from GCC countries in ASEAN totalled some $5bn as of 2023, of which $1.5bn went to Malaysia alone, Singh said.

However, the US, China, Singapore and the EU still make up the lion’s share of FDI in Malaysian manufacturing and services.

US still ASEAN’s biggest export market

Even as China’s trade with ASEAN grows, economist say, the US still remains a huge market for regional countries.

In early 2024, the US took over China as ASEAN’s largest export market, with 15 percent of the bloc’s exports destined for its markets, up nearly 4 percent since 2018, said Carmelo Ferlito, CEO of the Center for Market Education (CME), a think tank based in Malaysia and Indonesia.

“The US is also the largest source of cumulative foreign direct investment in ASEAN, with total stock reaching nearly $480bn in 2023 – almost double the combined US investments in China, Japan, South Korea, and Taiwan,” Ferlito said.

Israel’s war on Gaza was also highlighted at the ASEAN-GCC-China meeting on Tuesday.

Delegates condemned attacks against civilians and called for a durable ceasefire and unhindered delivery of fuel, food, essential services, and medicine throughout the Palestinian territory.

Supporting a two-state solution to the conflict, the joint communique also called for the release of captives and arbitrarily-detained people, and an end to the “illegal presence of the State of Israel in the occupied Palestinian territory as soon as possible”.

The civil war in Myanmar was also a focus of the talks among ASEAN members at their summit on Tuesday, who called for an extension and expansion of a ceasefire among the warring sides, which was declared following the earthquake that struck the country in March. The ceasefire is due to run out by the end of May. However, human rights groups have documented repeated air attacks by the military regime on the country’s civilian population despite the purported temporary cessation of fighting.

Zachary Abuza, professor of Southeast Asia politics and security issues at the Washington-based National War College, said that while Prime Minister Anwar may be “more proactive” – in his role as ASEAN chair – in wanting to resolve the conflict, Myanmar’s military rulers were “not a good faith actor” in peace talks.

“The military has absolutely no interest in anything resembling a power-sharing agreement,” he said.