survival

Jan. 5 (Asia Today) — By 2026, understanding international relations and shaping national core-interest strategies should start from a geoeconomic perspective. Geoeconomics links geopolitics and economics. It describes the use of economic tools as weapons to achieve political and security goals and the study of how those tools work.

The term is not widely used, but the idea has been around for decades. In 1990, strategist Edward Luttwak argued in an essay, “From Geopolitics to Geoeconomics: The Logic of Conflict, the Grammar of Commerce,” that competition among nations was shifting from geopolitical rivalry to geoeconomic rivalry. In other words, economic instruments were becoming as consequential as military ones.

Traditional geopolitics explains international relations mainly through territory and military power. The reality today looks different. Tariffs, supply chains, exchange rates, finance and standards have become powerful tools aimed at rivals.

The start of President Donald Trump’s second term and the intensifying U.S.-China confrontation highlight what the author calls the arrival of the geoeconomic era. The erosion of free trade and de facto globalization, the “America First” approach and broad tariffs, and the cycle of retaliation and sanctions between Washington and Beijing are presented as signals of that shift.

In the past, globalization prioritized efficiency. That made strategies such as “security with America, economy with China” workable for South Korea. The author argues that economic interdependence itself is now a weapon. Globalization is no longer a stable order. Trump’s tariff policy, the author writes, should be understood not only as an economic move to improve the trade balance but as part of a broader security strategy intended to shrink rival industries, rebuild supply chains inside the United States and push China out of key nodes of the global supply chain.

China’s countermeasures, the author adds, reflect similar logic. The U.S.-China confrontation has expanded beyond military tensions into economic conflict. The author says the superpower rivalry will place increasing pressure on allies and neighboring states to choose sides, as each power blends hard and soft approaches. The author describes an emerging world of overlapping sanctions that could reshape international order.

The author argues such pressure is already visible in currency and tariff measures and in battles over standards tied to technological leadership in telecommunications, semiconductors and artificial intelligence. The author also cites energy security, the restructuring of battery and electric-vehicle supply chains and debates over the burden of security costs. Without a geostrategic plan, the author warns, South Korea could face a compound crisis spanning industrial diplomacy and security.

The column cites U.S. State Department criticism of South Korea’s proposed revision of the Information and Communications Network Act, a measure described as aimed at rooting out false and manipulated information. The author says the U.S. raised “serious concerns,” arguing it could harm the business of U.S.-based online platforms and impede freedom of expression. The author writes that the episode shows how Washington may intervene in other countries’ domestic law when it sees national interests at stake, including through potential trade disputes.

The author links that criticism to what is described as controversy involving Coupang, which is listed in the United States. While the author says Coupang deserves criticism over a personal data leak, the column argues that influential politicians in Washington have spoken up on the company’s behalf, while responses in South Korea have largely focused on calls for hearings and political pressure.

The author also points to a U.S. airstrike on Venezuela and the operation to arrest President Nicolás Maduro as an illustration of how economic interests and security strategy can converge. The author argues that while the stated rationale included counternarcotics, remarks cited in the column about “taking back the oil” reveal a geopolitical calculation tied to energy and supply chains.

The column concludes that no national interest can be protected without a tough geoeconomic strategy and that patriotism rooted in anger or emotion cannot substitute for strategy. The author argues that domestic-focused politics risks being pushed aside in a geoeconomic order and urges South Korea to rethink its national survival strategy rather than remain a passive object of great-power competition.

Editor’s note: The views expressed in this column are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of this publication.

Kim Myung-ho is a visiting professor at Konkuk University’s Graduate School of Journalism and Public Relations.

— Reported by Asia Today; translated by UPI

© Asia Today. Unauthorized reproduction or redistribution prohibited.

Deir el-Balah and Nuseirat, Gaza Strip – In her tent made of fabric sheets with a roof covered in white plastic tarp, Sanaa Issa tries to steal a quiet moment with her daughters.

Sanaa spoke to Al Jazeera as the new year approached, and with a ceasefire officially in place in Gaza. But, lying on a wet blanket in a tent with rain pouring down, Sanaa doesn’t have a huge amount to be positive about.

“We didn’t know whether to blame the war, the cold, or the hunger. We’re moving from one crisis to another,” Sanaa told Al Jazeera, describing a harsh year she, and other displaced Palestinians like her, have faced in the Gaza Strip.

Amid worsening humanitarian conditions, the once-ambitious hopes of Palestinians in Gaza, dreams of a better future, prosperity, and reconstruction, are gone. In their place are basic human needs: securing flour, food and water, obtaining tents to shield them from the cold, accessing medical care, and simply surviving bombardments.

For Palestinians like Sanaa, hope for the new year has been reduced to a daily struggle for survival.

Sanaa is a 41-year-old mother of seven, who has been solely responsible for raising her children after her husband was killed in an Israeli strike in November 2024, at the end of the first year of Israel’s genocidal war on Gaza.

“Responsibility for the children, displacement, securing food and drink, making tough decisions here and there. Everything was required of me at once,” Sanaa, who fled with her family from al-Bureij to Deir el-Balah, both in central Gaza, said.

Sanaa’s biggest challenge in 2025 was securing “a loaf of bread” and getting her hands on even a kilogram of flour every day for her family.

“During the famine, I slept and woke up with one wish: to get enough bread for the day. I felt I was dying while my children were starving before me, and I could do nothing,” she said bitterly.

The search for flour eventually saw Sanaa decide to go to the US-backed GHF aid distribution points that opened at the end of May across Gaza.

“At first, I was scared and hesitant, but the hunger we live through can force you to do things you never imagined,” Sanaa said, describing her weekly visits to the aid points.

Visiting the sites, which the US and Israel supported as alternatives to long-established aid organisations, was inherently dangerous. More than 2,000 Palestinians were killed in and around GHF sites, according to the United Nations, before the GHF officially ended its mission in late November.

But going to the sites wasn’t just a risk to Sanaa’s life, it was a path that “took away her dignity”, leaving lasting scars.

On one occasion, Sanaa was hit by shrapnel in her arm while waiting for aid at the Netzarim distribution point in central Gaza, and her 17-year-old daughter was injured in the chest at the Morag point east of Rafah.

But her injuries didn’t stop her from trying again, although she began to go alone, leaving her children behind in relative safety.

Desperation

The war in Gaza led to severe interruptions in food and humanitarian aid, the last of which began in late March 2025, eventually leading to the declaration of a famine. It continued until October 2025, gradually easing after the ceasefire announcement.

During this period, the United Nations officially declared a state of famine, confirming that parts of Gaza had entered catastrophic hunger stages, with acute shortages in food, water, and medicine, and high rates of malnutrition among children and pregnant women.

Thousands of residents had to search for food using dangerous methods, including by waiting for long hours at the GHF sites.

“Hunger lasted a long time; it wasn’t a day or two, so I had to find a solution,” Sanaa said. “Each time, people crowded in their hundreds of thousands. Some would spend the night there, hundreds of thousands of displaced people – men, women, children, old and young.”

“The scenes were utterly humiliating. Bombing and heavy gunfire on everyone, not to mention the pushing and fighting among people over aid.”

The crowds meant that Sanaa often returned to her tent empty-handed, but the rare times she brought back a few kilos of flour felt like “a festival”, she recalled.

“One time, I got five kilos [11 pounds] of flour. I cried with joy returning to my children, who hadn’t tasted bread for days,” she added.

Sanaa divided the five kilos over two weeks, sometimes mixing it with ground lentils or pasta dough. “We wanted to recite a spell over the flour so it would multiply,” she said with dark humour.

A heavy silence followed as Sanaa adjusted the plastic tarp over her tent against the strong wind, then said:

“We witnessed humiliation beyond measure? All this for what? For a loaf of bread!” she added with tearful eyes. “If we were animals, perhaps they would have felt more pity for us.”

Despite the hardships she has endured and continues to face, Sanaa has not lost hope or her prayers for Gaza’s future.

“Two years are enough. Each year has been harder than the previous one, and we are still in this spiral,” she added. “We want proper tents to shelter us in winter, a gas cylinder to cook instead of burning wood, we want life and reconstruction.”

“Our basic rights have become distant wishes at year’s end.”

The only survivor

Sanaa’s husband was one of the more than 71,250 Palestinians killed by Israel during the war.

Twenty-year-old Batoul Abu Shawish can count her father, mother, two brothers and two sisters – her whole immediate family – among that number.

Batoul comes into the new year wishing for only one thing: to be with her family.

Her heartbreaking loss came just a month before the end of the year, on November 22.

Despite the ceasefire, an Israeli bomb struck the home her family had fled to in central Gaza’s Nuseirat refugee camp.

“I was sitting with my two sisters. My brothers were in their room, my father had just returned from outside, and my mother was preparing food in the kitchen,” she recalled, eyes vacant, describing the day.

“In an instant, everything turned to darkness and thick dust. I didn’t realise what was happening around me, not even that it was bombing, due to the shock,” Batoul added, as she stood next to the ruins of her destroyed home.

She was trapped under the debris of the destroyed home for about an hour, unable to move, calling for help from anyone nearby.

“I couldn’t believe what was happening. I wished I were dead, unaware, trying to escape the thought of what had happened to my family,” Batoul said.

“I called for them one by one, and there was no sound. My mother, father, siblings, no one.”

After being rescued, she was found to have severe injuries to her hand and was immediately transferred to hospital.

“I was placed on a stretcher above extracted bodies, covered in sheets. I panicked and asked my uncle who was with me: ‘Who are these people?’ He said they were from the house next to ours,” she recalled.

As soon as Batoul arrived at the hospital, she was rushed into emergency surgery on her hand before she could learn about what had happened to her family.

“I kept asking everyone, ‘Where is my mom? Where is my dad?’ They told me they were fine, just injured in other departments.”

“I didn’t believe them,” Batoul added, “but I was also afraid to call them liars.”

The following day, her uncles broke the news to Batoul that she had lost her mother and siblings. Her father, they told her, was still in critical condition in the intensive care unit.

“They gathered around me, and they were all crying. I understood on my own,” she said.

“I broke down, crying in disbelief, then said goodbye to them one by one before the funeral.”

Batoul’s father later succumbed to his injuries three days after the incident, leaving her alone to face her grief.

“I used to go to the ICU every day and whisper in my father’s ear, asking him to wake up again, for me and for himself, but he was completely unconscious,” Batoul said as she scrolled through photos of her father on her mobile phone.

“When he died, it felt as if the world had gone completely dark before my eyes.”

‘Where is the ceasefire?’

Israel said that it conducted the strikes in Nuseirat in response to an alleged gunman crossing into Israel-held territory in Gaza, although it is unclear why civilian homes in Nuseirat were therefore targeted.

According to Gaza’s Government Media Office and the Ministry of Health, around 2,613 Palestinian families were completely wiped out during the war on the Gaza Strip up until the announcement of the ceasefire in October 2025.

Those families had all of their members killed, and their names erased from the civil registry.

The same figures indicate that approximately 5,943 families were left with only a single surviving member after the rest were killed, an agonising reflection of the scale of social and human loss caused by the war.

These figures may change as documentation continues and bodies are recovered from beneath the rubble.

For Batoul, her family was anything but ordinary; they were known for their deep bond and love for one another.

“My father was deeply attached to my mother and never hid his love for her in front of anyone, and that reflected on all of us.”

“My mother was my closest friend, and my siblings loved each other beyond words. Our home was full of pleasant surprises and warmth,” she added.

“Even during the war, we used to sit together, hold family gatherings, and help one another endure so much of what we were going through.”

The understandable grief that has overtaken Batoul leaves no room for wishes for a new year or talk of a near future, at least for now.

One question, however, weighs heavily on her: why was her peaceful family targeted, especially during a ceasefire?

“Where is the ceasefire they talk about? It’s just a lie,” she said.

“My family and I survived bombardment, two years of war. An apartment next to our home in eastern Nuseirat was hit, and we fled together to here. We lived through hunger, food shortages, and fear together. Then we thought we had survived, that the war was over.”

“But sadly, they’re gone, and they left me alone.”

Batoul holds onto one wish from the depths of her heart: to join her family as soon as possible.

At the same time, she carries an inner resignation that perhaps it is her fate to live this way, like so many others in Gaza who have lost their families.

“If life is written for me, I will try to fulfil my mother’s dream that I be outstanding in my field and generous to others,” said Batoul, a second-year university student studying multimedia, who is currently living with her uncle and his family.

“Life without family,” she said, “is living with an amputated heart, in darkness for the rest of your life, and there are so many like that now in Gaza.”

Gaza City – The Holy Family Church in Gaza has lit its Christmas tree for the first time after two years of Israel’s genocidal war on the Strip. It is Christmas Eve mass, and the worshippers have packed the main prayer hall. Many of them are excited and happy – not just because it is Christmas but because they are still alive.

The glow of lights on the big Christmas tree and holiday decorations could not hide the harsh reality left by the war on Gaza. The church decided to limit the celebrations to a prayer service and brief family gatherings, but the bells rang loud, and that alone filled people with joy.

One of those people is 58-year-old Dmitri Boulos, who missed celebrating Christmas during the war. He was displaced along with his wife and two children in the early days of the fighting after heavy Israeli shelling hit around his home in the Tal al-Hawa area, south of Gaza City.

“We fled to the church seeking safety at the time, but it turned out there was no safe place,” Boulos said. “The church was hit twice while we were inside, and we lost friends and loved ones during that period.

“Nothing had any taste at all,” he recalled. “There was immense fear and grief for those we lost. How can we celebrate when everything around us is wounded and sad?”

Boulos hopes this Christmas and the new year will bring an end to all the suffering and lift restrictions on Gaza.

“We are trying to make ourselves and our children feel that what’s coming will be better, even though the reality is extremely hard,” he said. “We hope things will return to how they were before.”

The Holy Family Church, the only Catholic parish in Gaza, has long held symbolic importance beyond the Strip. Throughout the war, the late Pope Francis called the parish almost daily, maintaining a direct line to the besieged community.

Most of Palestine’s Christians live in the occupied West Bank and East Jerusalem, totalling approximately 47,000 to 50,000, with an additional 1,000 in Gaza before the war.

The number of Christians in Gaza has dwindled in recent years. Today, there are a few hundred left, a sharp drop from the 3,000 registered in 2007.

During the war, Israeli attacks targeted several Christian places of worship where many displaced Palestinians were taking shelter.

Although the Holy Family Church was not placed by Israel in the zones marked for expulsions, the other churches in Gaza City, including the Greek Orthodox Church of Saint Porphyrius and the Anglican St Philip’s Church, were.

But the nearly 550 displaced people sheltering in the Holy Family Church still mistrust the Israeli military. The church has been attacked so many times before – despite Israeli guarantees that it does not target places of worship.

Many of those people remain traumatised and try to rebuild the semblance of a normal life.

“My heart is still heavy with the tragedies and exhaustion we lived through during the war,” Nowzand Terzi told Al Jazeera, as she stood outside the Holy Family Church’s courtyard watching the worshippers without engaging them.

“We were displaced here under bombardment two years ago. I lost my home in an Israeli strike, and then I lost my daughter, who fell suddenly ill last year and passed away,” said Terzi as her voice choked after remembering her 27-year-old daughter – who did not make it on time to hospital because of the war.

“May God help those who have lost their loved ones, and may conditions in the Gaza Strip calm down,” she said, wishing peace and safety for all.

It’s a wish that resonates across the Gaza Strip, where nearly two million people are dealing with continued Israeli attacks and violations of the ceasefire, lack of food, lack of medicine, lack of shelter and basic services.

More than 288,000 families in Gaza are enduring a shelter crisis as Israeli restrictions on humanitarian supplies worsen conditions for Palestinians displaced by the war, the territory’s Government Media Office says.

More than 80 percent of buildings across Gaza have been damaged or destroyed during the war, according to UN figures, forcing enormous displacement.

Edward Sabah is just 18 years old, but he knows well the tragedy of war and displacement. He was forced to leave his home during the war and took shelter in the Saint Porphyrius Church in the Zeitoun neighbourhood of eastern Gaza City. The church was bombed on October 19, 2023, in an Israeli attack that killed 18 people.

“We were gathered in the church courtyard … We were talking normally with other displaced people when suddenly a massive explosion hit one of the church buildings,” Sabah recalls.

“We never expected the church to be targeted, but it happened. Everything unexpected happened during the war. Bombing was everywhere,” he said, adding that he and his family survived and later moved to another church, where they lived for a year and a half.

“During the past two Christmases, we tried very hard to create an atmosphere, but it was extremely sad,” he said. But he is also full of hope and the desire to live.

“This year it’s less intense, but we’re still afraid of what might happen. Still, we decorated the church and tried to create a joyous atmosphere,” Sabah said, adding that he hopes to complete his high school education.

This Christmas has brought joy and a sense of relief to many Christians in the Gaza Strip and in the rest of Palestine. Many Palestinians talk about their sense of belonging and attachment to their land despite all the hardships, tragedies and wars.

That’s why Janet Massadm, a 32-year-old woman from Gaza, decided to style her hair and put on new clothes to celebrate Christmas for the first time in two years.

“We are tired of grief, loss, displacement, and fear that have taken so much from our lives and our years,” Massadm said emotionally.

“Inside, I am completely exhausted because of what we have witnessed,” she added. “But what can we do? We must try to create joy and happiness.”

Like many Christians in Gaza, Massadm was displaced to the church with her family, her parents, brother, and sister, fleeing bombardment in the Remal neighbourhood of central Gaza City.

“I hope the war does not return,” she said. “That people reunite with their loved ones, that we witness a better future, and that Gaza is rebuilt soon.”