In Summary:

• India has been developing its nuclear sector mainly without foreign assistance, as a part of its strategy and as a result of the restrictions that followed the nuclear tests in 1974 and 1998.

• After the Nuclear Suppliers Group (NSG) waiver in 2008, India was able to cooperate with foreign countries on nuclear development, but it is still heavily reliant on fossil fuels.

• Although the three-stage thorium programme is not yet fully developed, the first reactor of stage 2 has reached first criticality on 6 April 2026.

Introduction

India’s civil nuclear development was slow and largely domestic until 2008, when the Nuclear Suppliers Group (NSG) granted India a waiver allowing nuclear trade despite India not signing the Nuclear Non-ProliferationTreaty (NPT). Since then, India has signed civil nuclear cooperation agreements with several countries. While their nuclear development has been rapidly progressing the past few years, nuclear energy provides currently about 3% of India’s electricity. Under the Viksit Bharat vision India aims to reach 100GW nuclear capacity by 2047 and achieve net-zero emissions by 2070. As India is currently at around 8GW capacity, the additional uranium needed to reach this target is expected to be met largely through imports, as domestic uranium resources cannot cover it. India is now developing new technology, which aims at utilising their vast thorium resources in order to achieve nuclear independence in the long run.

India’s Dependence

Following the Nuclear Suppliers Group (NSG) waiver in September 2008, the scope for sourcing both reactors and fuel from foreign suppliers widened significantly for India, and international cooperation “picked up pace”, explained Omkar Dhanke, Research Analyst at the Centre of Climate Change and Energy Transition. Civil nuclear cooperation agreements have been signed with several countries, such as the US, Russia, France, UK, South Korea, and Canada, as well as Australia and Kazakhstan, but only Russia has delivered reactors: Kudankulam 1 and 2 are operating, with units 3-6 under construction. Kazakhstan, Canada and Australia are uranium suppliers, while the French (Jaitapur) and US (Kovvada) reactor projects remain planned. The UK’s 2015 agreement covers a broader energy and climate package rather than reactors or fuel.

As of 2025, imports have fulfilled around 70% of India’s uranium demand, making it highly dependent on imported uranium. With the upscaling of nuclear power capacity, India is expected to have a rise in their uranium demand.

“Nuclear energy provides clean and baseload power, essential to supplement and support the increasing share of renewables in the Indian Electricity Grid.”

Omkar Dhanke, Research Analyst at Chintan Research Foundation

Additionally, both Dhanke and a nuclear energy analyst (anonymous source) mentioned the importance of the 2025 SHANTI Act, which ended the State monopoly in the nuclear sector by allowing private investors from all around the world to participate in its civil use. Dhanke notes that foreign partners can now bring technology that could accelerate the growth of the sector towards the 100 GW target by 2047, while the analyst describes the Act as a compromise on India’s goal of self-reliance, as it is opening to technology imports.

While India has made progress in their sustainable energy development, as the world’s third largest energy consumer, it is still heavily reliant on fossil fuels, and is the world’s third largest crude oil importer, with around half of that coming from OPEC. Sustained Gulf disruption could therefore drive higher import costs and inflation. Coal, however, already takes up around 46% of India’s energy supply (as of 2023) and provides around 75% of its electricity generation, whereas nuclear energy currently provides about 3%. As using fossil fuel for energy generation leads to significant environmental degradation, the government describes nuclear power as a crucial component of its transition to net zero by 2070.

“In India, the electricity tariff for industries is very high compared to the electricity tariff for households. So many of the industries which require electricity have chosen to have their own behind the meter power plants. (…) And industries, which require other forms of heat continue to rely on petroleum, fuel or coal. (…) For example, steel [industry] continues to use coking coal.”

Anonymous source (energy analyst from India) on the challenges of electrifying industries in India

Rajeev Lachmipersad, Geopolitical & Geo-economic analyst at The Hague Institute for Geopolitics (HIG), explained that India’s push for energy independence is also driven by the goal to reduce dependence on others for fuel and technology. By being less reliant, India can avoid being pressured or pulled into crises that are out of the country’s influence, such as the Gulf disruptions of 2026. This includes pressure from the United States, as there is a growing view in New Delhi that Washington “would prefer India not to grow into too large a power.” It is also unclear how far China could influence Russia’s decisions on deepening nuclear cooperation with India, as Russia is becoming increasingly dependent on China. For India, he says, this is “a further reason to develop its own nuclear and thorium capacity.”

India’s Nuclear & Thorium development

India has been developing its nuclear industry shortly after its independence, with a focus on the peaceful use of nuclear energy: the Atomic Energy Commission was set up in 1948 and the Department of Atomic Energy in 1954. In the 1960s, with both Canada and the US providing nuclear technology for civil use, the development accelerated. Canada helped build the CIRUS research reactor and supplied the design and main equipment for the first Rajasthan power reactor, while the US provided heavy water and built the two Tarapur reactors.

However, India conducted a nuclear test on May 18, 1974 in Pokhran (also known as Smiling Buddha), after which Canada cut off all nuclear cooperation with India and the US halted nuclear exports a few years later, including fuel for Tarapur, while others restricted nuclear exports to India. Reasons discussed for the test include the 1971 war with Pakistan (in which the US sided with Pakistan and threatened to bomb India with an US Carrier Strike Group), the pressure to demonstrate a nuclear capability after the introduction of the NPT (Non-Proliferation Treaty), which India refused to sign, and concern over China’s own nuclear tests in 1964.

“[India] faced severe restrictions in international cooperation, including the withdrawal of existing partners like the US and Canada, following the peaceful nuclear tests in 1974. Therefore, India had to turn inwards and build all the capabilities indigenously.”

Dhanke

Using previously imported and domestically developed technology, India continued to develop its nuclear technology and conducted a series of nuclear tests in 1998, despite the US efforts to minimize nuclear development with the extension of the NPT and the Comprehensive Test Ban Treaty (CTBT), that aims to ban all nuclear test explosions. India considered both treaties discriminatory, since it believes that the NPT supports nuclear monopoly for a select few who have been declared as nuclear-weapon states (NWS), while the CTBT, in India’s view, stopped others from developing nuclear weapons without disarmament by the NWS. In India’s view, both treaties therefore left the existing arsenals of the NWS intact while restricting everyone else. The Pokhran-II tests, after which India declared itself a nuclear weapon state, were followed by sanctions from countries such as the US and Japan, while Germany, Denmark, Sweden, and Australia suspended aid.

All three experts agreed that the hostile international market after the nuclear tests played an important role in India’s nuclear power programme, as it pushed India to develop its nuclear technology mainly without foreign assistance. This first lead to delays, but in the end strengthened India’s nuclear power development, and brought it closer to achieving nuclear independence.

“ This combination of external compulsion and India’s strong indigenous scientific expertise and capabilities has led to the complete indigenisation of homegrown nuclear technologies such as PHWR [Pressured Heavy Water Reactor] and PFBR [Prototype Fast Breeder Reactor].”

Dhanke

While India has around 300,000t of uranium reserves (roughly 3% of the world total), it possesses approximately 846,000t of thorium reserves - the largest of any single country in the world - positioning the country favourably for developing thorium-based nuclear technology. This was first recognised by Dr. Homi J. Bhabha (the father of India’s nuclear programme), who designed a three-stage nuclear development programme in the 1950s to meet India’s energy needs through thorium-based power production.:

• In Stage 1, India uses PHWRs, based on Canadian CANDU reactor technology, fuelled by natural uranium to create plutonium.

• In Stage 2, the plutonium is used in Fast Breeder Reactors (FBRs) to breed new fuel (uranium-233) from thorium.

• In Stage 3, Advanced Heavy Water Reactors (AHWRs) are to burn thorium-based fuel and breed more U-233, with the aim of becoming self-sustaining.

The three stages are needed because thorium cannot sustain a chain reaction by itself: under India’s plan, plutonium from Stage 1 fuels the breeder reactors of Stage 2, which produce more plutonium than they use and convert thorium into fissile uranium-233, the fuel for Stage 3.

On April 6, 2026, a Prototype Fast Breeder Reactor (PFBR) in Kalpakkam achieved first criticality, the start of a self-sustaining chain reaction, bringing India officially to stage 2 of its three-stage programme. While there are designs on the AHWRS being tested and studied, according to a report in India’s nuclear power program, a large-scale generator can take decades to fully develop

India’s nuclear future

While showing that FBRs work technically brought India closer to the final stage, there are concerns over financing, given limited public funds for nuclear expansion, as well as security and public acceptance for commercial deployment. In addition, there have been previously reported delays in the development, and some argue that there are technical obstacles with the original design of Bhabha’s programme. Completing the second stage alone is reported to take significant time, given the technical challenges of commercialising the FBR, and the AHWR remains at the proposed-design stage, with only a lower-power critical facility built so far.

Amongst the concerns, others report that India has overcome several problems in developing its reactors, mainly without external help. India has built an already innovative nuclear establishment, and has made great progress in its three-stage programme. Prateek Tripathi from the Observer Research Foundation (ORF) argues that India should expand with a mix of reactors now and treat the closed fuel cycle as a long-term goal. Moreover, other reactor designs are being studied as alternatives to the AHWR, and Kaveri Ashok from the Center for Study of Science, Technology and Policy (CSTEP) suggests that PHWR-based routes could bring large-scale thorium use forward by at least two decades, if technical challenges are overcome.

“As a rising-major power, India needs more control over its own energy resources. Without it, the country risks becoming dependent on other great or rising-major powers, or being dragged along by conflicts elsewhere that it can hardly influence. Beyond the situation in the Middle East, Washington is also quietly increasing geopolitical pressure on India. Many in India now feel that besides China, the United States too does not want India to become too powerful in Asia, let alone globally.”

Lachmipersad

Conclusion

India’s civil nuclear programme developed largely on its own after the restrictions that followed the tests of 1974 and 1998, yet the country now imports around 70% of its uranium and still relies heavily on fossil fuels. Its thorium-based three-stage programme is meant to end that dependence and avoid being pressured by outside forces. The PFBR reaching criticality in April brought India officially into stage two. While the three-stage programme has the potential to give India nuclear independence through thorium, it will take decades and depends on India’s capability to overcome the challenges that come with its development, including its financing, the technical commercialisation of fast breeder reactors, the still unproven AHWR design, and public acceptance and security concerns.

In Summary:

• General Alexus Grynkewich’s Theory of Victory is not a new NATO military strategy, but it emphasises NATO’s readiness to fight if attacked

• There are, however, important gaps to be filled: from US dependence, to ensuring political cohesion among the members, to military capabilities

• For deterrence to be effective, Russia must believe that NATO is ready to respond and fight

NATO and the Theory of Victory

On 12 October 2026, at the Warsaw Security Forum, NATO’s Supreme Allied Commander Europe (SACEUR), a position held by the American General Alexus Grynkewich, outlined how the Alliance plans to respond to a potential Russian attack. His words were clear and straightforward: block, blunt and break, referring to NATO’s aim to block the initial assault, blunt any further offensive and break the military systems sustaining it. Grynkewich described this approach as NATO’s “Theory of Victory”, stressing however that a confrontation is not inevitable, as he stated: “I do not assess that conflict is imminent or inevitable. It isn’t.”

The announcement comes at a moment when European governments are faced with growing concerns over Russian military activity, from suspected sabotage targeting critical infrastructure in the Baltic Sea to drone incursions into NATO airspace. NATO has already spent years strengthening its eastern flank, and its members adopted new regional defence plans in 2023. What does, then, Grynkewich’s theory of victory add? Is it a new NATO strategy, or a label for existing plans? Beyond the question of whether this represents a new strategy lies a more consequential challenge, namely whether NATO can put its intentions into practice. There are many gaps to fill: from military preparedness to political cohesion among the members, to future dependence on the United States.

A New Strategy or a New Message for Russia?

NATO’s Theory of Victory should not be interpreted as a totally new approach to collective defence. After Russia annexed Crimea in 2014, the Alliance started reinforcing its eastern flank. At the Vilnius Summit in 2023, NATO developed and adopted new regional defence plans with the purpose of strengthening its defence of the Allied territory from the outset of a conflict.

For Łukasz Kulesa, Deputy Head of Research at the Polish Institute of International Affairs (PISM), Grynkewich’s speech should be understood in the context of these existing preparations, and not as a newly developed plan. As he states, “I think it’s unfortunate that they call it a theory of victory,” explaining that the expression comes from American military theories and is not traditionally part of NATO’s terminology. Rather than announcing a new plan, Grynkewich is trying to make clear and explicit the logic behind the Alliance’s existing plans. Dr. Ewers-Peters, Assistant Professor at Maastricht University, similarly emphasises the communicative purpose of the expression: “It is more a way of communicating about NATO…it’s one way of communicating to the outside, but also obviously to NATO allies”. Dr. Julian Pawlak, research associate at the German Institute for International and Security Affairs (SWP), shares this assessment: “this represents rather the public expression of existing ideas, notably a commander’s intent, or theory, instead of a public plan.”

Apart from the nature of the terminology, the decision to express NATO’s intentions so explicitly is very significant in itself. By giving the speech specifically in Warsaw, on the eastern flank, Grynkewich was addressing two audiences. For Russia, the message was that an attack would be met with an immediate military response. For NATO’s eastern members, it reassured them that the Alliance is preparing not only to deter aggression, but also to defeat it. As Kulesa puts it, “the message is that we don’t want to fight. But if we fight, we fight to win.” The question, then, is not whether NATO has developed a new strategy, but what implementing it actually implies.

From Forward Presence to Forward Defence

The military logic behind Grynkewich’s Theory of Victory reflects a broader shift in NATO’s approach to defence of its eastern flank. After Russia annexed Crimea in 2014, NATO established a forward presence in countries including Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania and Poland, deploying multinational battlegroups to implement stronger collective defence. The purpose was to ensure that any Russian attack would be met by multiple forces from several NATO members, but these relatively small forces were not meant to be able to face a large-scale invasion independently. NATO has since moved towards the concept of forward defence, which aims to put greater emphasis on stopping an attack from the outset rather than relying on reinforcements to recover territory after an initial attack. As Kulesa explains, “I think what Grynkewich is saying and what NATO is moving to is this forward defence and this idea that we will have enough forces and capabilities to actually engage in a fight and block, that’s the blocking part.” This shift requires more than increasing troops. “They would need to be better connected with the national militaries and they would need to train in a different way,” Kulesa adds.

Grynkewich’s “block, blunt and break” approach builds on this logic. Blocking an attack would prevent Russian forces from achieving their immediate objectives. Blunting a continued offensive could involve expanding NATO’s response to targets supporting the assault, while breaking it would mean disrupting the structures, logistics and other military systems sustaining Russia. However, implementing this approach requires high-level coordination. In the Baltic Sea region, where military reinforcement depends mostly on access to maritime routes and transport infrastructure, the ability to sustain operations could be as important as the initial response. As Dr. Pawlak observes, “for any long-term action in a Baltic region contingency the maritime domain would be crucial for military mobility, logistics, reinforcement”. The Baltic Sea would therefore play a central role in moving troops and equipment, maintaining supply lines and supporting Allied forces on land. Protecting these routes, while coordinating air, maritime and ground operations, will be essential to NATO. The challenge is therefore not limited to stopping Russia: NATO must also ensure that its forces can continue fighting if the confrontation becomes long-term.

The Capabilities Behind the Strategy

The effectiveness of NATO’s Theory of Victory depends on whether the Alliance has the military capabilities necessary to implement it. Russia’s war in Ukraine has shown the need for high-intensity warfare, from the use of drones and missiles to the importance of maintaining ammunition supplies over prolonged periods. Despite NATO’s military capabilities, capability gaps remain. Dr. Ewers-Peters identifies air defence as a main European vulnerability: “one thing that European states, for example, lack is air defence”. The time required to develop new capabilities is also a challenge, as she argues that “anything in the military defence sector, it takes time to develop and produce”.

As Kulesa explains, “we have these capabilities, but not enough in case of this large-scale attack or a kind of high-intensity war.” Air and missile defence is one of the most pressing concerns. Protecting territory against large numbers of missiles and drones would require NATO to make choices about which military infrastructures to prioritise. Kulesa also expresses the need for greater long-range strike capabilities. Disrupting the forces sustaining an offensive would require NATO to target military infrastructure beyond the immediate battlefield, raising questions about the availability of weapons and the potential for escalation.

A further challenge concerns the ability to sustain military operations. “The third big thing, I think, is the issue of the capability to actually sustain war, because the stockpiles are usually rather small,” Kulesa warned. Even if NATO is successful in responding to an assault, its ability to continue fighting depends on ammunition, replacing equipment and maintaining industrial production. These requirements become particularly important if a confrontation extends beyond the expected duration. The question is therefore not whether NATO could respond effectively to an attack, but whether it could sustain itself for as long as necessary.

NATO’s Dependence on the US

Even if NATO succeeds in strengthening its military capabilities, implementing this Theory of Victory depends on multiple factors. Two challenges arise: NATO’s reliance on the US and the political cohesion among the members. Despite European efforts to assume greater independence about their own defence, the US continues to provide important capabilities that are difficult to replace, especially when it comes to intelligence, surveillance, and long-range strike assets. Kulesa warns that “you might have a situation in which the United States would withdraw forces too fast, and there wouldn’t be a European replacement.” Such a scenario could become problematic for European allies.

NATO and US Priorities

The challenge is not only that Europe needs to replace American capabilities, but that US and European governments have different priorities when it comes to developing them. Dr. Ewers-Peters identifies a tension at the centre of European rearmament: “the problem here is that Americans want Europeans to buy American military capabilities and Europeans want to develop their own because the idea for Europeans is we invest into our own defence industry to make revenues”. The challenge may therefore not be a full American withdrawal from NATO, but a reduction in the forces available.

Political Cohesion

Yet military dependence is only part of the problem. NATO’s plans ultimately require political cohesion, and the willingness of Allied countries to act collectively should not be taken for granted. For Dr. Ewers-Peters, the question extends beyond agreement among NATO governments: “Every single member state needs to be on board with this, which also means support at the domestic level within member states. And this, I think, is where it can lead to problems.” As Kulesa also explains, “you have the best possible military strategy or military approach, but you also need the politicians to actually give you the green light.”

The Risks of Escalation

This becomes particularly important when considering the potential escalation of a confrontation with Russia. While defending Allied territory against an initial attack would fall within NATO’s collective defence, striking military infrastructure deeper inside Russia could become more difficult. The credibility of Grynkewich’s approach therefore lies not only in NATO’s capacity to respond, but also in Russia’s understanding of whether the Alliance would be willing to do so. “The principal challenge remains the Western resolve together with the Russian perception of it,” Dr. Pawlak says. The nuclear aspect further complicates the situation. Strikes against military targets in Russia could cause the risk of escalation, particularly given Russia’s possibility to make use of nuclear weapons.

Conclusion

For deterrence to succeed, Russia must believe that NATO is ready to fight; any hesitation and lack of cohesion among Allies could compromise this message. On paper, the concept is coherent, but today it is not yet credible because of gaps in air defence, stockpiles, dependence on the US and political cohesion; whether it becomes credible will depend on decisions taken in Europe and Washington, especially about defence budgets, military readiness and political commitment in the coming years.

In Summary:

• Germany’s growing security cooperation with Kenya reflects shared interests in counterterrorism and regional stability, but also Germany’s search for reliable partners in East Africa and the wider Horn of Africa.

• Kenya works with several international partners to avoid relying on one country, yet foreign funding and technology can influence which security concerns receive attention.

• Although German-Kenyan cooperation addresses real security threats, longer-term needs, such as community resilience, risk receiving less attention if funding focuses mainly on hard security matters.

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“Kenya is our closest partner in the region and a true pillar of stability.” - German Foreign Minister Dr. Johann Wadephul

Right before his departure to Kenya in January 2026, German Foreign Minister Dr. Johann Wadephul presented Kenya as a key partner for Germany in East Africa. The following day, upon arrival at the German Embassy in Nairobi, he described Kenya as “a stable and reliable country in a crisis-ridden region” and a key economic partner.

Kenya’s and Germany’s relationship itself is not new. After Kenya gained independence in 1963, West Germany was the first country to officially recognize Kenya under international law. Since then, ties have steadily grown: for instance, more than 100 German companies now operate in Kenya. In 2024, the two governments also agreed on a so-called “Comprehensive Migration and Mobility Partnership,” which covers skilled labour migration and cooperation on repatriation.

Germany’s 2025 Africa Policy Guidelines identify peace and security as key areas of engagement. Thus, security matters have increasingly moved into the center of cooperation. In Kenya, this means responding to threats such as al-Shabaab attacks and improvised explosive devices (IEDs). The German-funded Counter-IED complex at Nairobi’s Humanitarian Peace Support School, where military, police and civilian personnel receive training, shows one example of that increased cooperation. Kenya’s Ministry of Defence inaugurated the facility on 2 April 2025, and Wadephul visited the complex during his trip to Kenya.

The Counter-IED complex responds to a direct hard security threat. But where a partner chooses to invest also shapes which security concerns get attention. This leads to the following questions:

Who sets the security agenda in German-Kenyan cooperation?

Security Cooperation Takes a More Visible Role

Prof. Dr. Patrick Muthengi Maluki, Institute of Diplomacy and International Studies at the University of Nairobi and chair of Kenya’s Foreign Service Academy Council, describes the move in cooperation towards explicit security matters as a shift in emphasis, not an end to, for instance, development cooperation. He says that “development, climate, economic and governance cooperation remain important (…), yet security itself is now much more explicit in the bilateral vocabulary than before.”

To understand why Germany is interested in security cooperation with Kenya, multiple factors should be considered. Importantly, migration, which often dominates debates on (security) cooperation with African states, does not explain the shift. Dr. Hassan Khannenje, director of the HORN International Institute for Strategic Studies, stresses that “Kenya is not a major source or transit country for irregular migration to Europe (…) Germany’s migration interests instead concern regulated labor mobility and Kenya’s role as a host of large refugee populations.”

Khannenje instead links Germany’s interest to its search for reliable partners following its withdrawal from Mali and setbacks across the Sahel in 2023. As Kenya fits this description, Khannenje points to its role in hosting regional training institutions, contributing to peace support operations in Somalia and taking on international responsibilities such as the Haiti mission.

Germany’s interests also extend beyond security cooperation. “The disruption in the Red Sea and Gulf of Aden has shown Europe how exposed its supply chains are to instability in the wider Horn,” Khannenje notes and adds that Kenya’s own priorities lie elsewhere, such as in “jobs, investment, industrialization and fiscal space. Security cooperation is welcome, but Kenya would like the economic side of the partnership to grow at the same pace.”

The partnership therefore brings together several priorities. Yet, does the increase in security cooperation lead to one-sided dependencies?

Room to Maneuver

Kenya has continued to build security relationships with other countries, not just with Germany alone. As an example, on 28^th of January 2026, a Defense Cooperation Agreement with the Czech Republic was signed. Furthermore, in March, 15 partner nations took part in Justified Accord 2026, a multinational military exercise and in June, Kenya and Egypt held their seventh Joint Military Committee meeting. Khannenje sees these ties as an effort to avoid reliance on a single partner and emphasizes that Kenya also works with the United States, the UK and partners across the Gulf, Türkiye and Asia.

This, as Maluki calls it, “portfolio strategy” illustrates ways to diversify international cooperation and to avoid dependence on a single partner, which, in turn, gives Kenya more room to negotiate. However, as Khannenje cautions, “such wider networks do not automatically give the government greater control (…) Agency is not measured by how many partners you have, but by whether those partners are working towards priorities you have defined.”

Similarly, Maluki is careful to jump to quick conclusions. In practice, he explains that partners do not bring equal resources. Wealthier partners bring financing, technology and intelligence capabilities that inevitably create leverage. In Maluki’s words, “diversification may strengthen Kenya’s position, but it cannot, on its own, remove the influence that comes with foreign funding and specialist capabilities.” Thus, without clearly established national priorities, cooperation with multiple partners may instead result in overlapping programmes and competing standards.

Ultimately, more partners may give Kenya more room to maneuver. Yet, the key question is whether it can use them to pursue its own security priorities, rather than accommodating those of its partners.

Which Security Concerns Receive Support?

In July 2026, five Kenyan security personnel were killed in a suspected al-Shabaab ambush in Mandera. That same month, Kenyan troops neutralized four IEDs along supply routes in Lamu. The Global Terrorism Index 2026 identifies al-Shabaab as the fourth-deadliest terrorist organization in 2025. The Counter-IED complex, therefore, addresses real hard security concerns.

Such an urgent need to be addressed, nonetheless, does not alone answer the wider question of how security resources are distributed. “Capacity-building is never entirely neutral (…) where Germany directs its funding matters,” Maluki argues. Germany’s cooperation with Kenya also supports climate resilience, food security and good governance. In December 2022, Germany committed €153 million in new commitments. Its stated priorities include climate and energy, agriculture and sustainable economic development. This broader engagement means that the issue is not simply whether Germany funds hard security or prevention. Rather, it is how different priorities are balanced, which receive sustained support and whether these choices shape Kenya’s wider security agenda.

Khannenje explains further that “hard security, such as the Counter-IED complex, is easier for partners to fund because here, it is visible and runs through state institutions, while prevention and community resilience are slower, harder to measure, and often left to short project cycles.”

Still, although border governance, community resilience and conflict prevention may be harder to measure, this does not make them less important. Such necessities shape how communities experience insecurity and whether security gains can be sustained. If counterterrorism is easier to demonstrate and thus to fund, these longer-term priorities risk receiving less support, despite their importance in addressing the conditions that allow insecurity to persist.

Concluding Remarks

For Maluki “a relationship is not equal if one side pays a disproportionate political price for saying no.” Measured this way, Khannenje sees German-Kenyan security cooperation as closer to equal than many of Kenya’s other security ties. Germany keeps no base and no combat role in Kenya, and its support runs through Kenyan institutions. Still, he calls the cooperation “a partnership of convergent interests with unequal resources (…) with both sides benefiting, while Germany’s financial weight still shapes which forms of cooperation get funded.”

That, in the end, can be the real tension. A wider range of partners gives Kenya more options, yet that does not necessarily mean the same as having control over the agenda. In Khannenje words, “without clear national plans, parliamentary oversight and domestic funding, whoever pays most tends to decide most.” Maluki similarly emphasises that foreign assistance “needs to follow Kenyan and regional priorities, not determine them.” The question is therefore not simply whether German support is useful, but whether it contributes to a broader strategy defined by Kenya itself. The pace of economic cooperation relative to the growing focus on security falls beyond this article’s scope and deserves further attention.

In Summary:

• Riyadh chose escalation after Ansarullah captured Al-Mokha port and the Bab al-Mandeb Strait.

• The PLC’s “Yemen Dawn” counteroffensive retook Bab al-Mandeb, but Taiz remains the key obstacle.

• Turkey and Pakistan deploy defensively in Saudi Arabia; Syrian and US involvement is uncertain.

• Ansarullah targets Saudi oil facilities and airports to wreck the Saudi economy.

Saudi-PLC Activity

The signal for a massive military campaign, aimed at recapturing not only the territory lost in September, was the speech of the PLC leader and Yemeni president Rashad Muhammad al-Alimi. He declared a general counteroffensive on every front under the code name “Yemen Dawn,” with the final goal of capturing Sana’a.

The declaration did not seem to be an empty gesture: PLC units, the Southern Giants Brigades, conducted a ground offensive backed by massive air support of up to 100 aircraft. The operation repelled Ansarullah troops from Bab al-Mandeb and recaptured ground on the western coastline. It was a desperately needed victory, which boosted PLC morale and created hopes of a swift shift in the balance of power. The Saudi Air Force also launched multiple airstrikes targeting Ansarullah troops, command centres, missile launchers, oil facilities, and arms depots, to degrade their military capabilities, blunt their offensive momentum, and demoralize them.

Makkah Pact Allies’ Support

Turkey and Pakistan, members of the nascent Makkah Pact alliance, declared that they will deploy troops in the Saudi Kingdom. Yet both countries publicly stated that their support will be exclusively defensive and strictly confined to Saudi soil, denying any military involvement inside Yemen.

Turkey will assist its Saudi allies with air defence systems, electronic warfare systems, UAVs, intelligence, and advisory support, and a small detachment of Turkish special forces has arrived in the Kingdom. Pakistan, for its part, has already stationed military personnel, aircraft, UAVs, and air defence systems.

Syrian, Egyptian, Emirati, European Involvement and the USA’s Quest

Syrian interim president al-Sharaa has previously denied that he would send Syrian fighters to aid the Saudis in Yemen, yet speculation to the contrary is growing. Riyadh’s pressure on Damascus to send ground forces is also increasing. Riyadh’s funds play a vital role in the reconstruction of Syria, and Damascus is aware of that. Axios reports speak of 20,000 fighters from the 90th and 84th Syrian Army divisions.

Egypt is also affected by the current war. Ansarullah’s military activity in the Red Sea has cost the Egyptian economy $800 million per month. The Egyptian Presidency states that “Egypt will provide Saudi Arabia with all necessary and possible forms of support to defend its security and stability, protect its resources, territorial integrity and Islamic holy site.”

On the other hand, since September the UAE has shown increased activity to restore its relationship with Riyadh, damaged after the December 2025 standoff in Yemen and the UAE’s consequent expulsion. In this direction, Abu Dhabi has decided to re-enter the Yemeni conflict against the Houthis by resuming payments to Yemeni government militias, probably the southern ones.

USA has denied supporting Riyadh with its air force during Ansarullah’s September “blitzkrieg,” providing only intelligence and logistical support. Yet after the recent missile strikes on Riyadh’s airport, the US president insinuated that he may go kinetic in the Yemeni war, though he declined to clarify.

Yet, the two main nuclear European powers, UK and France have also decided to support Saudi Arabia by sending troops, radars, air defense systems, and aircrafts.

The Hazards and Risks for the Saudi Coalition of the Willing

PLC Challenges and Pathologies

The advance of the PLC’s Giants Brigades may have repelled Ansarullah from Bab al-Mandeb, pushed it northwards, and boosted PLC morale, but it has not achieved a decisive victory that would secure these gains. The PLC forces recaptured the Bab al-Mandeb area as well as Dhubab airport, yet Al-Mokha port and the coastal town of Dhubab remain in Ansarullah’s hands. The recently recaptured territories also remain under constant pressure from Ansarullah counteroffensives and missile attacks.

To secure the western coastline, the PLC forces must not only recapture Al-Mokha port but also advance to the outskirts of Hudaydah port city, if not capture it. Such a development would exert immense pressure on Ansarullah, since it would lose the biggest and last port city under its control and be forced to withdraw forces from other fronts to protect the capital, Sana’a.

Moreover, to secure the territorial gains in Bab al-Mandeb, it is also necessary to control the highlands of Taiz governorate, which overlook the whole coastline and can threaten the low-lying coastal terrain, the stationed forces, and the shipping lanes in the Bab al-Mandeb Strait. Yet Taiz city is under tight siege by Ansarullah forces, which has cut the arterial road between Taiz and Aden and captured the surrounding highlands. This blockade will sever the vital supply line between Aden and the interior of the PLC-controlled territories.

Furthermore, the capture of the Taiz highlands and surrounding territories allows Ansarullah to defend the route to Sana’a, threaten Aden , control the low-lying coastal terrain, and menace Marib. Marib is the third-biggest city, hosts the country’s oil facilities, and is a symbol of resistance against Ansarullah. The position of Taiz governorate in the country’s heartlands also allows Ansarullah to manoeuvre its troops more easily along interior lines and deploy faster to any of the three fronts.

Thus, without dislodging Ansarullah troops from Taiz governorate, it is very difficult to advance on Hudaydah, protect the coastal gains, relieve the pressure on Aden and Marib, secure the supply line to the interior, and launch a ground offensive on Sana’a. Air support from Riyadh and its allies is not sufficient to achieve this. It demands well-prepared, coordinated, multi-front ground operations against a battle-hardened, extensively mobilized, disciplined, highly effective, resilient, and well-entrenched foe with advanced strike capabilities, a cohesive command-and-control structure, and very competent enemy. The incohesive and fragmented PLC forces lack these elements.

That is therefore the big challenge for Riyadh: during a full-scale war with an intensive operational tempo, to transform the PLC into an effective fighting force able to fully exploit its air superiority and its advantages in technology and intelligence. This is an extremely difficult task.

Saudi Economy’s Dire Dilemma

Ansarullah is aware of all the above. Besides conducting intense multi-front operations against the PLC forces, its calculus is to severely hurt the “vital organs” of Saudi Arabia, which are simultaneously the lifeline of the PLC forces. It is targeting the pillars of the Saudi economy with unprecedented intensity, frequency and accuracy. It strikes hydrocarbon facilities (pipelines, terminals, oil and gas fields) mercilessly, aiming to block not only Saudi exports, which are vital for the Kingdom’s survival and for global economic stability, but also production itself. It also bombards Saudi civilian airports and military facilities, causing civilian casualties. Ansarullah’s clear and declared goal is to wreck the Saudi economy by imposing an air and naval blockade while destroying its pillars. The existing air defence shield cannot protect Saudi infrastructure, due to the terrain’s morphology and Ansarullah’s sophisticated tactics. Sana’a is implementing its 16 July threat of airports for airports, ports for ports, and blockade for blockade: a siege against the siege that Riyadh has imposed on Sana’a.

Ansarullah’s anticipated outcomes are threefold. First, to put the Saudi leadership in a dilemma: protect its infrastructure through a political compromise or by pausing air support to the PLC or continue and even intensify its military effort and watch its economy be devastated. Second, to raise the domestic political cost for Riyadh and undermine the legitimacy of the current Saudi leadership, even causing social unrest. Such unrest could turn into a nightmare in the event of an uprising in Saudi Arabia’s Eastern Province, which has a large Shia population as well as oil and gas reserves. Third, to exert pressure on the markets and the already volatile global economy, to press Riyadh into a compromise.

Makkah Pact Members’ Risks

The two new allies of Riyadh risk sinking into the Yemeni quagmire despite their claims of a strictly defensive role on Saudi soil. Even if they do not take part in offensive operations on Yemeni soil, the risk remains high. Ansarullah officials have already stated that Makkah Pact troops stationed in Saudi Arabia are legitimate targets and that vessels linked to Turkish and Pakistani interests will face a blockade in the Red Sea. This will increase the economic cost for their already struggling economies. Furthermore, a scenario of mass Turkish and Pakistani casualties would sharply increase their domestic political cost and put them in the dilemma of whether to halt operations against Ansarullah.

The Ansarullah propaganda machine will also try to spread the narrative that the two most militarily powerful Muslim nations did not send even a bullet to the Palestinian fighters yet are now attacking the only Arab force that dared to attack Israel and support the Palestinian liberation cause. Framing them as members of the American-Zionist axis will be the core of that narrative, which seeks to discredit the role and prestige of Riyadh, Ankara, and Islamabad as protectors of the Ummah and the Holy Sites, while presenting Ansarullah as the Guardian of Islam. The influence of this narrative on the Turkish, Pakistani, and, more generally, Arab and Muslim publics must not be underestimated.

Turkey, however, could face even greater consequences. Ansarullah could try to harm Turkish interests in the Horn of Africa, i.e., Somalia, and strike Ankara’s military assets on land or at sea, either directly (missiles, mines, USVs) or through local partners (al-Shabaab). Turkish troops in Iraq could be targeted by Iraqi militias. Iran is also not expected to limit its support to Yemen. It could harm Turkish interests in Syria by activating pro-Iranian cells and arming dissident Syrian Kurds who oppose Damascus authority. Iran could even form a Machiavellian cooperation with its former archenemies in Syria (ISIS, al-Qaeda, other jihadist groups) who are dissatisfied with al-Sharaa’s rule. The destabilization of Syria, perhaps the biggest Turkish geopolitical achievement since 1922, would pose a very serious security dilemma for Ankara. It would also send a message to al-Sharaa and every Syrian political figure about Tehran’s red lines.

Yet, if Turkish military activity in Yemen intensifies or relations with Tehran deteriorate further, Iranian retaliation could focus on Turkish soil. According to Hashim Tekines, a political analyst at The Institute for Diplomacy and Economy, Iran has several options to retaliate. Among them are targeting the US Incirlik Air Base and the NATO radar in Malatya, and cutting the gas supply to Ankara, which covers 13% of Turkish gas imports. The possibility of sabotage of the Baku-Ceyhan oil pipeline, which carries 600,000 barrels, must also not be ruled out. The pipeline is a lifeline for the Israeli economy and military machine, which makes it an “attractive” target.

The USA Dilemma

The USA has stayed out of Yemen since its unsuccessful 2025 air campaign, while securing impunity for its own commercial fleet. Despite desperate Saudi requests for air support during the September collapse, Washington decided to limit its support to the logistical and intelligence level. The recent devastating strikes on Saudi airports and oil facilities have increased the pressure for American kinetic involvement. That option, however, poses serious problems for the USA.

Sustained US kinetic support through air operations, a naval blockade, and interceptor systems would aggravate its existing shortage of advanced missile stockpiles. It would engage the US Air Force in a struggle with doubtful results, increase the economic cost, and further strain US military personnel already stretched by the war with Iran.

In the scenario of a restart of Iran-USA military operations, with potential Israeli participation, the risks are higher. Reopening is expected to be bloodier and more intense than the previous round, and US forces would be in a dire situation: divided, stretched, and more exposed on two fronts, with insufficient logistical support (advanced missiles). Moreover, the US military presence in East Africa (Djibouti) would also be exposed to Ansarullah’s aerial capabilities.

The potential Egyptian involvement awakens nightmares of the past, such as Cairo’s involvement in the North Yemen Civil War (1962–1970), the so-called “Egyptian Vietnam,” with 50,000 casualties. Moreover, although the involvement is declared to be purely defensive and solely on Saudi soil, this does not guarantee that Egyptian forces will not be targeted. Egyptian civilian infrastructure could also be targeted, such as the Sumed Pipeline and the associated energy infrastructure, including terminals and fuel storage facilities. The July drone attack that damaged two oil tankers in the Egyptian port of Damietta is a serious warning about the consequences of the expansion of the war, even though Sanaa has not claimed responsibility. Furthermore, the UAE risks a resumption of Ansarullah attacks on Emirati energy, logistical, and economic infrastructure, which could severely hurt the Emirati economy, without excluding Iranian kinetic action against it.

In addition, although the two European powers are backing Riyadh defensively, both believe that the only feasible solution must be political, not military, and they are very cautious not to challenge Iran.

Conclusion

A regional and international coalition against Ansarullah seems to be formed. However, given the earlier failed air campaigns and the ongoing Russo-Ukrainian and USA-Iran wars, Sana’a can assume that neither the will nor the capability exists for a sustained war against it. Ansarullah should be expected to accept nothing less than the lifting of the Saudi blockade, reparations, and some form of political recognition of its legitimate leading political role in Yemen. Riyadh is caught between the devil and the deep blue sea: it must choose between political defeat and compromise, or military escalation and the destruction of the foundation of its economic survival. Ultimately, the key to shifting the balance of power in Riyadh’s favour is the transformation of the PLC into a cohesive, competent, and coordinated political and military apparatus.

Image: The Hague Institute of Geopolitics (AI generated)

In Summary

• The 15th Five-Year Plan consolidates the Party’s strategy for the future of China’s modernization based on sci-tech development

• The Party has appointed SOEs as drivers of the “new quality productive forces,” serving government’s interests while bearing economic duties and social responsibilities

• By prioritizing production over household consumption, the Chinese state-owned economy exacerbates global trade imbalances, raising concerns over Western deindustrialization and unfair competition

Economic security is a crucial part of Chinese national security, sustaining the Party’s legitimacy through the pursuit of China’s modernization strategy. China’s economic security builds from the goal of self-sufficiency, innovation, security of its supply chain, strategic diversification through export-oriented initiatives to safeguard natural resources. In addition, it heavily relies on and supports State-Owned Enterprises while prohibiting compliance with foreign restrictions against China. Specifically, the role of SOEs outlined in the 15th Five-Year Plan is crucial to understand the future trajectory of China’s economy while recognizing its issues and limitations.

The Next Phase of China’s Modernization

The CCP’s emphasis on economic security is not only to safeguard the country from internal crisis, but also to protect it from external threats, such as wars and sanctions, while at the same time becoming a global leader in key core technologies. As Xi Jinping pointed out, “Chinese modernization must rely on sci-tech modernization for support, and achieving high-quality development must rely on sci-tech innovation to train new drivers of growth” (In Chinese: 中国式现代化要靠科技现代化作支撑，实现高质量发展要靠科技创新培育新动能). The new 15th Five-Year Plan (2026-2030) adopted by the National People’s Congress in March 2026, emphasizes the effects of world conflicts and instability, warning against the escalation of the global power game driven by protectionism, unilateralism and trade fragmentation, which have led to an external hostile environment for China’s modernization. Chinese Premier Li Qiang noted that “the 15th Five-Year Plan period is a critical period for consolidating the foundation and gaining full momentum to fundamentally realize socialist modernization” (“十五五”时期是基本实现社会主义现代化夯实基础、全面发力的关键时期).

The Party not only uses direct control over enterprises, but also indirect methods, leading to mixed firms, which, by combining both state-capital and non-state capital, create a blurred line between purely state-owned and private entities. The increasing relevance of SOEs is also showcased by the shift from Land-Based Economy (土地财政), based on leasing land rights to real estates, towards an Equity-Based Economy (股权经济), based on shares, stakes and state-owned capital and strategic partnerships. Whereas in the past local governments used to earn from land sales, now they have been generating revenue from shares and state capital. This trend is in line with the government policy of “the state advances, the private sector retreats“ (国进民退).

The Key Roles and Duties of SOEs

The 15th Five-Year Plan has emphasized the new critical role of SOEs in advancing the Party’s goal for China’s tech development and modernization. The government is not only focused on expanding the scale of SOEs, but has appointed them as the driver of “new quality productive forces” (新质生产力), a concept introduced by Xi Jinping referring to economic growth based on cutting-edge technology, innovation and industrial development, including key emerging sectors, green transition and tech self-reliance. In this way, SOEs become the government champions in carrying out the Party’s macroeconomic plans and directives, while committing to national security, disaster relief and social stability.

On this matter, Xi Jinping emphasized that “on the new journey, central enterprises must fully recognize the responsibilities and mission they shoulder, better serve the overall interests of the Party and the state, serve the high-quality development of the economy and society, serve to guarantee and improve people’s livelihoods, bravely carry social responsibilities, contribute greater power to the construction of Chinese modernization. They must focus on their primary duties and core businesses, continuously optimize the layout of the state-owned economy, coordinate development and security, effectively prevent and resolve risks, and constantly consolidate the foundation for the safe development of enterprises” (新征程上，中央企业要充分认识肩负的职责使命，更好服务党和国家工作大局，服务经济社会高质量发展，服务保障和改善民生，勇担社会责任，为中国式现代化建设贡献更大力量。要聚焦主责主业，持续优化国有经济布局，要统筹发展和安全，有效防范化解风险，不断夯实企业安全发展的基础).

According to Dr. Alicia García-Herrero, Chief Economist for Asia Pacific at Natixis and Senior Fellow at Bruegel, the main strength of China’s state-owned economy is “the ability to mobilise capital at scale and over long horizons toward strategic goals. That is how China built world-class positions in EVs, batteries, solar and high-speed rail far faster than markets alone would have.” At the same time, “its biggest weakness is capital misallocation. Credit flows to politically favoured sectors and firms rather than the most productive ones, so returns on assets keep falling, SOEs earn markedly less than private firms, and debt rises faster than output. The model is good at building capacity and poor at knowing when to stop.”

Domestic Consumption Imbalance

On a domestic level, China presents a significant imbalance when it comes to industrialization and consumption. “Household consumption at around 40% of GDP, with investment of similar size, is unbalanced by any international standard,” commented Dr. García-Herrero. The 2025 trade surplus record of around $1.2 trillion clearly displays the excess of China’s industrial capacity compared to domestic absorption and imports. Indeed, the country’s low domestic consumption has been the result of a variety of factors, from a heavy infrastructure-oriented growth, investments in industrial manufacturing and government incentives to SOEs to a weak social safety net.

Fixing this imbalance would mean for the Chinese government to make substantial structural reforms to reverse the trend on export reliance to redirect the wealth to Chinese households, thus allowing families to buy what is produced. However, as the HIG China expert Casper Wits explained, “Xi Jinping has a little bit of an old fashioned view of what is important. He sees industrial modernisation as the absolute priority and centre of China’s national security. As a consequence, while social welfare and boosting consumption is not ignored, it’s hardly a part of the core national security.” Because of the government neglect of social services, citizens save more than they spend in order to be able to insure themselves against unexpected economic, health, and social events. When asked whether the CCP is strategically refraining from enhancing household consumption to avoid democratization, Dr. Wits argued that “the fear is real. The Chinese have seen this happen in South Korea and Taiwan, for example. And that was also the expectation of the West that this would happen in China: as people become more comfortable and socially secure, they start asking for other freedoms.” The neglect of social services and the fear of democratisation suggest that the situation is unlikely to change trajectory in the near future.

Asymmetric Competition in the Global Economy

On an international level, China’s state-backed economic model creates friction in the global industry. State incentives allow Chinese companies to lose profit in the short term for long term benefits. However, market oriented Western companies must profit in the short term to survive, thus failing to compete against the Chinese SOEs. “Subsidised credit, cheap land and inputs, and soft budget constraints let Chinese producers undercut competitors in steel, aluminium, solar, EVs and, increasingly, legacy chips and machinery,” explained Dr. García-Herrero. As a result, China’s overcapacity keeps creating global trade frictions while fueling the fear of deindustrialization, threatening to hollow out other countries’ industrial capacity by absorbing and replacing them with Chinese supply chains.

When reflecting on the long-term sustainability of this system, Dr. García-Herrero stated that “In the short term it is affordable. The state controls the banks, savings are captive, and debt is mostly domestic and in renminbi. In the long term it is not sustainable. Persistent losses become non-performing loans, local government balance sheets erode and deflation (producer prices have fallen since late 2022) squeezes margins across the whole economy. The cost does not show up as a crisis. It shows up as slower productivity growth and a gradual Japan-style drift. The “anti-involution” campaign shows Beijing recognises the problem, but consolidation runs against local governments’ incentives to protect their own champions.”

Because China is becoming a key actor in green and sustainable technologies, the West should avoid a full decoupling, while striving to cooperate with China in green transition while at the same time restraining China’s offensive tech build up. According to Dr. García-Herrero, this should happen “selectively and from a position of strength.” As she explained, “full decoupling is costly and unrealistic. Unconditional openness is naïve. (...) It should welcome Chinese investment in Europe when it comes with technology transfer, local production and local jobs, which reverses the old joint-venture logic. It should de-risk in critical technologies and inputs, and use trade defence firmly against subsidised overcapacity. The problem is less about whether to engage than whether Europe has the industrial policy and unity to negotiate as an equal.”

Conclusion

The CCP has emphasized the crucial relevance of the 15th Five-Year Plan in carrying forward China’s modernization through the direct attribution of duties and responsibilities to SOEs, positioning them as major drivers of the “new quality productive forces.” Rising geopolitical tensions and risks of ever-present foreign restrictions have steered China towards an innovation and supply chain protection strategy led by SOEs to overcome technological chokeholds. However, this export- and industry-oriented model is challenged by the domestic consumption deficit and trade surplus imbalance, which heightens international concerns on overcapacity. Although the near future will remain dominated by SOEs, China’s state-owned economy faces long-term structural sustainability risks, leaving the door open to new economic policy shifts.

In Summary:

•⁠ ⁠Throughout the 2010s, Saudi Arabia and the UAE developed a close strategic partnership, cooperating particularly in Yemen

•⁠ ⁠however, their relationship has since become increasingly competitive, with diverging interests in Yemen, Sudan and the Red Sea

•⁠ ⁠Economic rivalry and differing foreign policy priorities have further strained relations even though shared security interests and political ties have prevented a diplomatic rupture

On 29 September, UAE Vice President Sheikh Mansour bin Zayed Al Nahyan travelled to Riyadh for talks with Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman. It was the first Emirati visit to the Kingdom since relations between the two Gulf powers deteriorated over Yemen at the end of 2025. For much of the previous decade, Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates acted as partners in the Gulf as they intervened together in Yemen, took a common position during the Qatar crisis and shared concerns over tensions with Iran and the rise of political Islam after the Arab uprisings. This partnership has gradually given way to a more complicated relationship which has turned into a relationship of rival competition where both countries have increasingly become more ambitious. Understanding how Riyadh and Abu Dhabi reached this point, and why they continue to cooperate despite this competition, offers insights into the balance of power in the Gulf and the wider Middle East.

From Partners to Competitors

The close relationship between Riyadh and Abu Dhabi was built around a period of collaboration throughout much of the 2010s, particularly from 2015. The rise of Saudi Crown Prince and Prime Minister Mohammed bin Salman in Saudi Arabia corresponded to an increasingly assertive UAE under Mohammed bin Zayed, now president of the UAE.

However, the relationship was never entirely equal between the two. As an anonymous source explains, “it’s always been a competition but it’s not always been an open competition. The UAE has always been conscious of being the junior partner in this relationship.”

Despite this balance, the two countries found common ground in some situations. Their cooperation was visible in Yemen, where they intervened together in 2015 against the Houthis, and during the 2017 Qatar crisis, when both governments joined the effort to isolate Doha. The UAE’s decision to join the Saudi intervention in Yemen also needs to be understood in light of the leadership transition in Saudi Arabia. Abu Dhabi had enjoyed longstanding relationships with King Abdullah, which were disrupted by his death in 2015. As the same anonymous source explains, “I always say that one of the most important events in the Middle East in the past 15, 16 years is the death of King Abdullah.” The arrival of the new leadership was unexpected, as the source recalls: “especially since nobody saw King Salman coming and certainly not his son Mohammed bin Salman.” Therefore, according to the source, UAE’s participation in Yemen was also an investment in its relationship with the new Saudi leadership. As the source explains, “so then the UAE decided to really invest in that Saudi relationship; and the way they did that was by joining the Saudi in Yemen.” The intervention initially helped consolidate the partnership, even if later the two countries increasingly developed different objectives in the conflict.

In fact, Yemen also was a context in which the limits of this alignment emerged. While both countries initially entered the war as part of the same coalition, their priorities started to diverge, especially when Saudi Arabia continued to support Yemen’s internationally recognised government and, later, the Presidential Leadership Council, while the UAE developed close ties with southern forces, particularly the separatist Southern Transitional Council (STC). This divergence was already visible in 2019, when STC forces seized Aden, but became far more difficult to contain in late 2025 after the group expanded into Hadramawt and al-Mahra. Saudi Arabia responded militarily, including with a strike on Mukalla port after accusing the UAE of supplying weapons to the separatists, a claim that Abu Dhabi denied. Michel Don Michaloliákos, geopolitical expert and co-founder of HIG, sees the confrontation as part of a broader struggle over the balance of power. He describes the Saudi response as a “power play of Saudi Arabia trying to keep the UAE as a junior partner,” adding that “the UAE of course wants to prevent being a junior partner.” In his view, this may also help explain Abu Dhabi’s regional strategy: “In a fragmented surrounding, the UAE can be more influential than with stronger states.”

For Dr. Omar Munassar, Postdoctoral Fellow at the University of Zurich, the experience illustrates a broader problem with regional security partnerships. He argues that “historically, Middle Eastern security alliances, from the Baghdad Pact to the 2015 Arab Coalition in Yemen, have repeatedly broken down over divergent political priorities, most visibly in the fallout between Saudi Arabia and the UAE.” Yemen, therefore, did more than reveal a disagreement over the future of the country. It showed how two states that had entered the conflict as close partners developed increasingly distinct regional priorities. This divergence also reflects different views of how regional stability should be achieved. AsMichaloliákos explains, “Saudi Arabia is supportive of strengthening nation states in other countries, so central governments, whereas the UAE pursues fragmentation of other countries and an aggressive port policy.” In his view, the rivalry therefore reflects “not opposing interests only, but also opposing views on how to secure a stable region that favors the regimes in both countries.”

A rivalry that goes beyond Yemen

The competition between Saudi Arabia and the UAE has become increasingly visible, and not only across the Arabian Peninsula. Across the Red Sea and the Horn of Africa, both countries have expanded their political and economic presence, competing for influence over trade routes, ports and investment. On the one hand, the UAE has developed an extensive network of commercial relationships in the region, including major investments in the port of Berbera in Somaliland. On the other, Saudi Arabia has also increased its presence in Africa, with the Red Sea becoming important to the Kingdom’s economic and geopolitical strategy. In fact, in 2024 Saudi investors established a logistics zone in Djibouti port, which serves as a gateway to African hubs.

A relevant case to look at is Sudan; The UAE has repeatedly been accused of supporting the Rapid Support Forces (RSF), allegations Abu Dhabi denies. The anonymous source points to the UAE’s concerns about the influence of the Muslim Brotherhood, as the source says that Abu Dhabi’s assessment of the RSF is that “the RSF is the bulwark against what may be growing brotherhood influence in that region”. In addition, Sudan is also an important economic target for the UAE. The source adds that the UAE “owns massive plots of land there, which is tied to food security.”

Saudi Arabia, meanwhile, has hosted negotiations between the warring parties in Jeddah and tried to act as a mediator, while maintaining closer relations with the authorities controlled by the Sudanese Armed Forces. Sudan has thus become an area where Saudi Arabia and the UAE’ interests diverge. The UAE spent decades establishing itself as a regional centre for international business, tourism, aviation and logistics. Saudi Arabia’s Vision 2030 has pushed the Kingdom into a quick development of the country, as Riyadh has tried to attract multinational companies through its regional headquarters policy, while investing heavily in tourism, aviation and logistics as part of its economic diversification. As the anonymous source observes, “the UAE development path, and especially Dubai’s development path, is a model for Saudi.” This convergence has also created new sources of rivalry: “that is a very real area of competition as well. And there are no instruments in place in order to find some sort of equilibrium between all these ambitions.” These policies are not necessarily directed against the UAE, but they place the two economies in competition for investment. This economic dimension helps explain why the Saudi–Emirati rivalry should not be seen only as disagreements over specific conflicts. Instead, it should be seen as a competition emerging where their ambitions overlap.

Diverging Regional Strategies

Saudi Arabia and the UAE also differ in how they deal with powers like Israel, the US, Iran and Türkiye. In the case of Israel, the UAE has formalized its diplomatic relationships through the Abraham Accords signed in 2020; Saudi Arabia, on the other hand, has not established formal relations with Israel, especially after the Gaza war, linking any type of future agreement to the creation of a Palestinian state. According to the anonymous source, the Abraham Accords were a particular turning point in the relationship between the UAE and Saudi Arabia, as they argue that “what really pushed the Saudis away from the UAE were the Abraham Accords and its very open embrace of Israel.” Saudi Arabia has, meanwhile, also tried to increase its security partnerships. Its cooperation with Türkiye and Pakistan culminated in the signing of the Mecca Joint Defence Agreement in August 2026. As Dr. Muddassir Quamar, Associate Professor at Jawaharlal Nehru University argues, “The choices that Saudi Arabia has is to continue diversification of its external and security relations, which it is already doing.” These different relationships can also be understood through the different strategic priorities of Riyadh and Abu Dhabi. As Michaloliákos argues, “I think opposing views and opposing strategies led to these alliances. And where there was a convergence of those strategies, countries teamed up. And what was, I think, underlying these opposing views as well is different threat perceptions.”

It is also important to consider Saudi Arabia and the UAE relationship with Iran, which provides an even more complex picture. The UAE restored its diplomatic relations with Tehran in 2022, while Saudi Arabia followed with the China-brokered restoration of relations in 2023. Both countries have therefore tried to manage tensions with Iran while maintaining a security relationship with the United States. The choice of alliances of Saudi Arabia and the UAE do not necessarily portray a contradicting image of the region’s alignments. Both continue to keep relationships with the US and have tried to reduce tensions with Iran. However, what is obvious is that Riyadh and Abu Dhabi are increasingly willing to pursue their foreign policy priorities independently of one another.

Rivals or Enemies?

Despite their competition, neither Saudi Arabia nor the UAE aim to develop their relationship into a rupture. The renewed Houthi offensive in Yemen illustrates why. While past disagreements over Yemen contributed to a deterioration of their relationship, a common security threat associated with the Houthi has created space for cooperation. On the one hand, the UAE retains considerable influence over Southern Yemen, while Saudi Arabia has become more involved in confronting the Houthis. Their relationship is also sustained by interests that extend beyond Yemen. As Michaloliákos says, “both are condemned to each other, the UAE and Saudi Arabia. They can have opposing interests. They can have diverging strategies and views. But they are condemned to each other as neighbors, dependent both massively on the Strait of Hormuz and for the UAE also when it comes to land bridges towards other regions. So that means that eventually you need to have some work around your disputes.” Both remain members of the Gulf Cooperation Council, maintain economic ties and have an interest in reducing instability across the Gulf and the Red Sea. Competition over investment, regional influence and foreign partnerships has developed alongside areas in which cooperation remains useful to both governments. Rather than ending their partnership, Riyadh and Abu Dhabi have so far attempted to manage these disagreements while preserving channels for cooperation. The durability of this attempted cooperation may depend as well on personal relationships. As the anonymous source argues, “the rivalry will be there, and none of them is going to budge. So it will come down to the personal relationship, whether they can work”.

In conclusion, the meeting between Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman and UAE Vice President Sheikh Mansour bin Zayed in Riyadh on 29 September offers an indication of this approach. After months of tensions, this meeting suggests an effort to prevent the disagreements from becoming a wider rupture. The relationship between the two cannot be defined as close alignment nor hostility; Saudi Arabia and UAE compete and will compete where their ambitions overlap but it is likely that they will continue to avoid a strong rupture.

Five key points

👉 Israel divides both parties: it has become a litmus test, driven by younger voters on the left and the right.
👉 The Iran war is decisive: it clashes with everything Trump promised about “no more forever wars”.
👉 Trust will not fully recover: even under a Democratic victory, expect a more transactional relationship, and Europe must stand on its own feet.
👉 Five colours, two movements: AOC-style Democrats in the centre, and on the Republican side a struggle between “creedal” and “heritage” nationalists.
👉 No normalisation: expect a Congress that slows Trump down, but also chaos and a possible escalation in Iran right after 3 November.

About our guest

Kenneth Manusama is an expert on America and the guide through this episode. He explains how the US system works in practice. He shows how the president and Congress share foreign policy and also breaks the two parties down into “five colours”, from the Democratic Socialists of America to AOC-style centrists on the left, and from Rubio-style hawks to J.D. Vance’s “heritage” nationalists on the right. He is currently writing a book on Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez.

Michel Don Michaloliákos is co-founder of The Hague Institute for Geopolitics (HIG). As a geopolitical and geo-economic analyst (Europe, the Middle East, and the Mediterranean and Red Sea region), he shares his analyses in the podcast, in articles, and in lectures. Through masterclasses and consultancy, he helps policymakers and businesses. He can be booked as a speaker and conference chair via HIG and Sprekershuys. He is a regular guest in the media, including Nieuwsuur, Eva Jinek, Nieuwsweekend, RTL, and NRC.

Rajeev Lachmipersad is one of the co-founders of The Hague Institute for Geopolitics (HIG). Within the institute, Rajeev focuses as an analyst on the broad geopolitics and geo-economics of India. He draws on his extensive knowledge of Indian geography, civilization, history (especially since independence in 1947), and internal power politics, all of which influence India’s geopolitical strength. At the same time, he uses his many years of experience in economic governance to analyze how countries deploys its economic resources and instruments to achieve its geopolitical goals.

Chapters

1️⃣ [00:00:00] The first English-language HIG podcast: what to expect from the midterms, and will they be fair?
2️⃣ [00:03:00] What changes in US foreign policy? Israel, Iran and the tariffs on Canada
3️⃣ [00:04:00] Israel as a lightning rod: a litmus test for Democrats and Republicans alike
4️⃣ [00:06:30] The Iran war as the decisive factor: “Where did America First go?”
5️⃣ [00:08:00] Is trust in the US permanently damaged? Article 5 and a more transactional relationship
6️⃣ [00:12:00] The five colours of American politics: from Democratic Socialists to MAGA
7️⃣ [00:18:00] Millennials as the largest voting bloc, and AOC as the bridge in the centre
8️⃣ [00:24:00] President versus Congress: War Powers, tariff authority and the Russian diesel deal
9️⃣ [00:30:00] Chaos, not normalisation: a lame-duck Trump and the expected escalation in Iran
🔟 [00:34:00] Races to watch, the localisation of the elections and closing thoughts

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In Summary

• ASEAN is working to create its own AI governance approach instead of following rules created by other countries, but they are having difficulties figuring out how to properly enforce it. They have pursued this through the creation of the ASEAN Guide on AI Governance and Ethics.

• ASEAN faces challenges because its countries have different levels of AI expertise, funding, resources, and readiness.

• ASEAN’s future AI governance could either become more unified through shared standards or become fragmented as countries follow different foreign models.

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In our previous article, we looked at how the US-led Pax Silica and China’s World Artificial Intelligence Cooperation Organization (WAICO) could shape ASEAN’s response to artificial intelligence. We looked at the external force pressing in on the bloc, but a harder question emerges as the layers of US-China influence in the region have been discussed. Can the region set its own terms in AI governance or are they bound to inherit everyone else’s? This article takes a closer look at that question and ASEAN’s internal power by looking at the present state of AI governance, the challenges, and its possibilities moving forward.

Current State of AI Governance

The most tangible presence of rules for better AI Governance in the region is the ASEAN Guide on AI Governance and Ethics, which was endorsed in February 2024 and expanded in 2025 for generative AI. When examining the guide, it may read less like a code of conduct and more as a handbook for member states. According to an analysis of the Guide by Kristina Fong, Lead Researcher for ASEAN Affairs at ISEAS, it was deliberately created this way. This absence of concrete legislation for the bloc is a key difficulty when attempting shared action from member states. Fong also found that regional strategies have leaned on risk-based approaches that are similar to that of those in the EU. Vietnam passed an AI Law in December 2025 that has a risk-classified approach like the EU’s that is applied to existing legislation. Singapore has also tried to do the same. It has recently set the goal to create AI Governance Frameworks in line with international ones. So far, ASEAN countries tend to fall back on current norms rather than establish their own. Dr. Liu Han Wei of Singapore Management University is more cautious about the possibility of a perfect replication of foreign models. “No ASEAN jurisdiction has simply reproduced the EU model...they recombine shared concepts according to their own priorities. Whether these regional and national approaches develop into wider norm-setting influence remains open…The evidence so far…remains too limited to support firm conclusions.”

The Biggest Challenges of AI Governance in ASEAN

While navigating the new and rapidly changing geopolitical landscape is an arduous task, it is made even more difficult in the ASEAN bloc due to a variety of reasons. To begin, there is an issue with ASEAN’s structure. ASEAN does not have the supranational power to impose regulations and is mainly characterized by consensus-building and non-interference. What happens in this system is that many policies and frameworks, including the AI Governance Guide, are relegated to voluntary initiatives rather than a set-in-stone guideline with norm-setting power. This has relegated the guidebook to a voluntary initiative lacking any beneficial norm-setting power. As Fong puts it, “As long as guidelines remain voluntary, there will be a gap in implementation.” This stalemate-inducing system is a key reason as to why the bloc faces difficulty in achieving full implementation of initiatives such as this.

Another problem is capacity. ASEAN may lack the technical staff to enforce rules Without a proper workforce that could help facilitate this, AI governance is a steep slope. In the interview, Fong mentions, “This may happen due to various reasons, including the capabilities to put the recommended best practices to work in respective organizations, especially for small and medium enterprises. Sometimes it is not down to intentions but rather capacities to do so.” This is even made more difficult by the fact that states are not all ready to contribute equally. Not everyone arrived equally prepared to the table, as they have different levels of compliance burden and readiness. Fong notes that “larger enterprises that may be better resourced could find it easier to implement these best practices if they wanted…I do see some premium for an organization for implementing good governance policies around AI deployment…it can bring reputational gains”

Though the bloc is making progress towards a consensus, as of 2026 there is still a lot of division in terms of nations’ individual capacity to participate. The OECD’s 2026 Digital Trade Review of ASEAN found that Brunei, Cambodia and Lao PDR have yet to adopt final national AI strategies and rely instead on broader digital economy frameworks. It also found that member states sit at different stages of AI readiness. Singapore is the outlier. By July 2026, Singapore-based “Native AI” companies had raised about US$9.3 billion in disclosed equity funding across 227 rounds. Their counterparts in Vietnam, Malaysia, Indonesia and Thailand raised under US$40 million combined. The voluntary structure, thin capacity, and uneven readiness compound one another, and together, they define the terrain the bloc must cross to reach shared AI governance.

Speculative Futures

There have been many possible futures that have often come up for how ASEAN AI Governance may unfold. Faiza Saleem of the Lowy Institute sets out three scenarios. These scenarios are consolidation, which is when soft principles mature into common norms; fragmentation, where members align with EU, US, or Chinese models; and hybridization, where ASEAN’s framework blends with outside approaches. There are signs of fragmentation. Only the Philippines and Singapore have signed the US-led Pax Silica declaration by its June 2026 summit (Asia Society Policy Institute), and China launched its World AI Cooperation Organization (WAICO) at WAIC in July 2026. It must be noted that evidence is still limited to really provide a proper diagnosis of this, and fragmentation is better read as the risk to beat than as a settled fact. However, two routes may offer a way past it.

The first is consolidation through shared practice. For Dr Karryl Kim Sagun Trajano of the S. Rajaratnam School of International Studies, “ASEAN needs to stop treating soft law as a permanent resting state…readiness should translate into leadership on binding standard… Second, normative authority is hollow without underlying capability, so the region needs to keep investing in the things that give it actual leverage..like SEA-LION.“ The SEA-LION that Dr. Trajano is referring to is a variant of open-source language models built by AI Singapore and trained on regional languages including Bahasa Indonesia, Thai and Vietnamese. It was designed to lessen reliance on Western models developed for English. This effort and others like it in Southeast Asia may offer a gateway for the region that can build and test its own tools and has more standing when it writes rules for them. The caveat is that SEA-LION is a Singapore-funded project, not an ASEAN-wide one, which returns the argument to uneven capacity.

Additionally, recent diplomacy suggests the strategy of shifting from soft law is understood. At the High-Level Meeting on Global AI Governance in Shanghai held on 18 July 2026, ASEAN Secretary-General Dr Kao Kim Hourn presented the forthcoming ASEAN AI Governance Framework as the region’s contribution to shaping global AI governance.

The second route is binding governance through trade. Sameera Pillai of the Lowy Institute argues that tying AI rules to trade access may give partners a strong reason to comply. This may be seen with the Singapore-Australia Digital Economy Agreement which already treats AI as an area of formal cooperation. In regard to movement from the bloc itself, there is also ASEAN’s Digital Economy Framework Agreement (DEFA) being established. It is a treaty-level agreement expected to embed AI governance provisions. Negotiations concluded in May 2026, with signing expected in November.

When Dr Trajano was asked what would let ASEAN move beyond voluntary guidelines, she outlined three steps. “A few things have to line up. First, states have to build it into their domestic frameworks…Second, you need someone credible enough to operationalize it first and make it look workable…And third, and this is the uncomfortable one, you usually need a shock…Voluntary frameworks tend to stay voluntary until something forces the question.”

So can ASEAN set its own terms? On paper, yes. In practice, not quite yet. A voluntary framework that no member must follow with an uncertain capacity will struggle to bind eleven members with very different starting points. The two routes work best as stages of one path. Soft law gives the region a common language, and trade is the likeliest way to turn words into actions. As Dr Kristina Fong notes, “there is a growing consensus of the inherent need to have a coordinated approach to digital safeguards and a foundation for the responsible development and deployment of AI.” ASEAN has long struggled to turn its consensus-based approach into concrete authority over its members, but the disruption brought by AI may offer an opening. As Dr. Trajano suggests, a geopolitical shock could be precisely what strengthens its norm-setting power.

So what can we expect in the next coming months? In Shanghai, Dr Kao also said the bloc is developing an ASEAN Leaders’ Declaration on AI-Powered Medium Small and Micro Enterprises Growth, targeted for adoption at the 49th ASEAN Summit in November 2026. The Declaration aims to shape ASEAN’s shared digital future and draw on public-private partnerships. With this, the November Pax Silica meeting, and the ASEAN Digital Masterplan 2026-2030 ahead, the coming months may test whether ASEAN can shape the rules of a changing technological order.

In Summary

• Women and girls remain the overwhelming majority of documented CRSV survivors. However, male survivors are also affected and remain significantly underrepresented in available data.

• Stigma related to the social consequences for survivors, expectations around masculinity, gaps in reporting, limited services, and the categorization of sexual violence as torture can all contribute to male survivors remaining invisible.

• Recognizing male survivors does not require shifting attention away from women and girls. It means recognizing gaps in documentation, care and accountability that affect the overall response to CRSV.

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“A man who admits he was raped may no longer be viewed as a man at all. He is taught this long before it ever happens to him. Taught that he cannot cry, cannot break, cannot be ‘weak.’ So, when it does happen, he says nothing. Not because violence is rare. Because almost nothing around him is built to hear it in the first place.”

Shimaa Samy, Independent Journalist and founder of the Madad initiative

Trésor (name changed by the International Committee of the Red Cross), a 57-year-old man, stood outside a support center for survivors of sexual violence in eastern Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC). He was too ashamed to enter and also believed that the center was only for women. Although Trésor eventually got help, his experience reveals a double burden faced which men and boys who survive conflict-related sexual violence (CRSV) may face. They are first overlooked as victims of sexual violence at all, and then, even once identified, struggle to have their experience acknowledged and taken seriously.

The United Nations defines CRSV as sexual violence that is directly or indirectly linked to conflict. Sexual violence is used, among others, to displace civilians from contested territory, punish and humiliate communities perceived as supporting an opponent, and weaken social ties within families and communities. It can also be linked to ideas of ethnic identity and family “honour.” Further, the ICC’s conviction of Bosco Ntaganda shows that such violence also occurred within conflict parties themselves. Commanders and soldiers hold power over their recruits, which then, in turn, make the abuse possible. These examples show that CRSV can be used deliberately to pursue wider political, military and economic objectives, including the control of territory and natural resources, as the United Nations emphasizes. Civilians are heavily affected, with consequences that can include long-term trauma and humiliation. Women and girls remain the majority of documented survivors.

The extent of CRSV is difficult to capture. In Eastern DRC alone, more than 90,000 cases of sexual violence were registered by service providers between January and September 2025 across North Kivu, South Kivu, Ituri, Maniema and Tanganyika. The UN mission MONUSCO separately verified 1,534 cases in 2025, although 32 of these cases occurred the years before. Only four men and four boys were among the UN’s verified survivors. That is eight of 1,534 verified cases, or about 0.5 percent. Cases included rape, gang rape, sexual slavery and forced marriage.

The ongoing war in Sudan further shows how little of this violence may become visible. Between April 2023 and April 2026, the United Nations Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights (OHCHR) verified 546 incidents affecting at least 838 survivors: 539 women, 284 girls, eight men and seven boys. Another 320 incidents are still being verified. At the same time, the OHCHR emphasizes that these numbers represent only part of the reality and thus cannot be interpreted as illustrative for a complete picture.

Trésor’s hesitation outside the center, together with the very small number of men and boys in existing datasets illustrates the greater, structural issue of who is seen, recognized, and recorded as a survivor in the first place. This leads to the question:

Why do male survivors of CRSV in Sub-Saharan Africa remain underrepresented in the data, and what does this invisibility mean for how their experiences are understood and addressed?

The Global Context of CRSV

Importantly, CRSV is a global matter and framing it as uniquely “African” is both inaccurate and reductive. Treating it that way would reduce a general matter into an “African” one and reinforce the racist idea that violence, stigma, and underreporting are somehow characteristics of the African continent. According to recent UN reports, the same matter is present in Ukraine and Gaza.

CRSV is also historically documented, such as in Nazi Germany, during the Holocaust, where sexual violence against Jewish men and boys is only now being reconstructed by historians decades after the war.

A similar problem of late recognition can be seen in the wars that followed the break-up of Yugoslavia. Judson Ernandes, international law jurist, specialized in human rights and international criminal law, refers to Dubravka Žarkov’s concept of “homosexualization,” defined as sexual violence marking a male survivor as homosexual and thereby affecting his sense of identity. Ernandes applies this and explains that sexual violence against Croatian men was presented as part of the “homosexualization of Serbia,” while Serbian narratives used the same violence “in order to demasculate the identity and the state.” Male survivors, in other words, were used to support competing national narratives.

Gender, Targeting, and Forms of Violence

Ideas of Masculinity, Identity, and Disclosure

Yagi et al. (2022) found that male survivors, specifically in the DRC, described sexual violence as undermining their expected role as men who should provide, protect and procreate. Several described themselves as “destroyed” or “damaged.” The authors invoke the idea, drawn from earlier research, that male survivors are often seen as “dethroned princes.” The survivors included in Yagi et al.’s (2022) study, in fact, linked this loss of status and identity to serious consequences, such as marital breakdown, unemployment and symptoms consistent with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Although the study was small, with 14 participants around Bukavu, it describes the pattern, rather than prevalence, that male survivors experience sexual violence in ways that are also shaped by gender expectations. In other words, CRSV, perhaps, does not only cause harm through the act of violence, but, in fact, through challenging and affecting the gendered roles and social status attached to masculinity itself.

Such expectations can also make male survivors less likely to recognize or disclose what happened to them. As Hanna Weil, Sudan desk officer and coordinator at Amnesty International Germany explains, ideas around masculinity can make it harder for survivors “to even recognize themselves as survivors, let alone disclose what happened to others.” This helps explain why the comparatively lower number of documented male survivors should not simply be read as evidence that sexual violence against men does not occur.

Samy, who has reported extensively on Sudan, points to a specific mechanism behind this silence. She says “Men who are assaulted in Sudanese camps and detention sites are rarely alone. Often, ten or more men are assaulted at the same time, creating an unspoken agreement among survivors not to talk about what happened. Breaking that silence can mean admitting not only that they were sexually assaulted, but also that they experienced a form of violence that challenges deeply held expectations of masculinity.” In her account, the consequences of that violence may only become visible years later in changes in behavior that families struggle to name. “Some people start to say, ‘I think my brother, my husband, suffered from this,’ but he himself does not want to talk about it.”

Samy also points to a social distinction which, as she highlights, shapes disclosure differently for men and women. In her account, a woman’s assault is often treated, although wrongly, as something that socially impacts her wider family. “It may not only be my body, but also the body of my sister, my mother, my wife.” For men, she argues, there is no equivalent social frame. An individual survivor is left more isolated in deciding whether to speak at all.

Moreover, the low number of documented male survivors is difficult to understand through statistics alone. Individual verified cases show what these figures mean in practice. The UN fact-finding mission in the DRC documented, for example, the case of a 13-year-old boy who was raped alongside his mother, as well as a 14-year-old boy who was beaten and forced to engage in a sexual act with a female relative in front of his siblings. Importantly, the mission noted that such cases “remain largely unreported” even though some of them have been verified.

How Targeting Differs by Gender

Yet, the patterns of violence themselves differ from men and women, which makes disclosure only part of the picture. Weil points specifically to the war in Sudan and highlights that “we don’t have indications of systematic sexual violence against men in Sudan the way we see it with women and girls (...) Structurally, it hits women above all.” In Sudan, when men are affected, Weil says, it is “mostly executions and torture.” Where sexual violence against men is identified, “those affected are often people from, for example, the queer community.” This, however, should not make male survivors disappear from the analysis.

Gender further shapes how people are targeted and the forms of violence used against them. Weil points to reporting on El Fasher, Sudan, as an example. Amnesty International found that the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) targets people by origin and gender. Gender consequently “determines the type of violence a person suffers.” For men in Sudan, “it is not necessarily about preventing flight. It is more about targeted killing.” She describes a recurring pattern from eyewitness accounts: at checkpoints, “men are separated from women and children and then shot.” Thus, flight itself can be seen as the opening the RSF needed; as Weil argues, attempts to escape “made it possible to separate men from the rest of the population and kill them.”

For women, violence can take a different form. Sexual violence specifically happens “during and along the flight routes, at checkpoints, in the streets and sometimes even in front of family members.” Weil connects this to patterns seen across other conflicts. When a community is meant to be destroyed as a whole, armed groups go after not just “its armed members, the men,” but also “what secures a community’s continuity across generations.” She emphasizes that sexual violence does not kill a community physically in the way the killing of men does, but instead “attacks it through women’s social role as the ones who hold a community together and carry it forward.”

Thus, gender shapes both the targeting of individuals and the form that violence takes. Women and girls remain the overwhelming majority of documented CRSV survivors. At the same time, the experiences of male survivors are shaped by different forms of violence as well as by expectations around masculinity.

Recognition and Data Gaps

Visibility is shaped by how reports themselves are written. Aline Costa, legal researcher and project leader at the Centre for African Justice, Peace and Human Rights, says that even in 2026 “men and boys are a half sentence at the end of multiple paragraphs in some of the reports.” The problem is not only what gets reported, but also how male survivors are represented in the reports themselves. While she sees this as an improvement from earlier reporting that omitted them entirely, she argues that it still lacks the specificity given to female victims and survivors. That is crucial. As she puts it, “we need both the data and then the individual report, the individual experience.”

Furthermore, Costa sees the recognition problem as having two dimensions. “There are all the issues that apply to women and girls equally, and then there are issues that are specific to the gender of the survivor.” Costa points to more specific barriers for male survivors and highlights that “services are often designed for women and girls (...) legal frameworks, as well, often do not recognize male survivors adequately (...) and authorities are not trained to recognize that men and boys can be victimized as well.”

From an international criminal law perspective, Ernandes points to the case against Bosco Ntaganda, former Deputy Chief of Staff and commander of operations of the Forces Patriotiques pour la Libération du Congo (FPLC) in the DRC. The ICC convicted Ntaganda of rape and sexual slavery, including against child soldiers. The case provides an important example of sexual violence against male victims being recognized within international criminal proceedings.

Ernandes also emphasizes ways in which gender and, importantly, ethnicity shape who is targeted during a conflict. He refers to the ICC case against Abd-Al-Rahman, or “Ali Kushayb,” former leader of the Militia/Janjaweed, where Fur men, ethnic group primarily in Darfur in western Sudan, were targeted in part because they were perceived as fighters and community defenders. In 2025, the ICC convicted Abd-Al-Rahman of gender persecution against Fur men, making it the Court’s first conviction for gender persecution. Importantly, however, the underlying crimes in this finding were murder, torture and other forms of ill-treatment rather than sexual violence. Abd-Al-Rahman was also convicted of rape, but only against women, although there was evidence that acts of a sexual nature were performed against men.

This intersection of gender and ethnicity raises questions about how sexual violence against men is classified by courts. Ernandes refers to the ICC case of 2007-08 post-election violence in Kenya. Here, the survivors’ legal representatives argued that the forced circumcision of Luo men during the post-election violence constituted sexual violence. As Ernandes notes, “the acts were carried out against men who did not traditionally practice circumcision and were argued to have been intended not only to harm the individual victims, but also to assert power over their ethnic community and attack their identities as men.” The ICC’s Pre-Trial Chamber, however, was not convinced that the acts were sexual in nature and instead classified them as other inhumane acts. For Ernandes, this points to a wider problem in how sexual violence against men is understood in international criminal law. He questions, “why are international criminal courts more reluctant to label crimes as sexual violence when the victims concern men and boys? You and I might read the evidence and say, this is clearly sexual violence, the judges would say, no, it is not, because it is not sexual enough.” Where courts decline to name these acts as sexual violence, they are also less likely to be counted as such in reports and datasets.

Beyond Torture: Recognizing Sexual Violence in Detention

Detention settings provide a concrete example of why sexual violence against male survivors cannot be ignored. UN reporting identifies detention as a setting in which men and boys are significantly exposed to rape and other sexual violence, often used as torture, punishment, humiliation or a means of extracting information.

In Sudan, for instance, the OHCHR found that men made up around 20 percent of documented victims of sexual violence in detention. According to the OHCHR, this represents a significantly higher proportion of male survivors than in other patterns of CRSV. Many detainees had been imprisoned after being accused, without legal basis of affiliation with an opposing side, ethnic identity or other supposedly suspicious behavior. Sexual violence here is used to “extract confessions” and as part of broader discriminatory abuse.

Samy’s first-hand observations from working with survivors support this. In Sudan, both the RSF and Sudanese Army have operated detention sites. Samy argues that the collapse of oversight has made abuse more likely and harder to document, as “no one will notice, because there is a war.” Further, Samy foregrounds that rape occurs in detention and that survivors of all genders may struggle to put such experiences into words. In her conversations with former detainees she observed that men increasingly disclose “all kinds of torture, including sexual violence” when asked directly, but rarely elaborate.

A similar pattern was independently verified in the DRC. In November 2025, the UN fact-finding mission to the DRC published their report on North Kivu and South Kivu, documenting gang rapes of men and boys held in improvised M23 detention sites such as in shipping containers, underground cells and seized government buildings. This happened alongside so-called “corrective rapes” of LGBT detainees, carried out by guards or by co-detainees with the instigation or acquiescence of the de facto authorities.

Even these figures, however, likely undercount the real scale of the problem. The UN calls its own numbers a conservative estimate. Additionally, many cases specifically involving male survivors go unreported due to, for instance, stigma. The question, then, is what these figures actually capture. Costa is clear, going beyond the data within the dimension of detention: “the data is not reflective of reality,” a problem she sees across genders but considers potentially greater for male survivors because of the additional barriers they face. Samy similarly cautions against reading the small number of documented male survivors in Sudan as evidence that the violence itself is rare.

The same problem also affects how sexual violence is characterized when it is reported. Costa argues that similar to how survivors may describe their experiences as stated above without explicitly referring to them as sexual violence, CRSV against men and boys is often “recharacterized as torture, for example, or inhumane treatment.” In cases of detention, sexual violence may therefore be recorded more broadly as torture or ill-treatment. The UN Secretary-General’s 2026 report makes the same observation and notes that male survivors tend to refer to torture instead of sexual violence. The discussed above ICC Kenya case, provides an explicit example of how this is also reflected legally. The Court did not consider the forced circumcision of Luo men to be “sexual in nature” and instead classified the acts as “other inhumane acts.” This does not establish that CRSV against men is generally reclassified in this way, but it shows, following Ernandes, how the legal characterization of an act can determine whether it becomes recognized as sexual violence in the first place.

Barriers to Care

What happens when stigma, expectations around masculinity and the lack of appropriate services make it harder for male survivors to seek help and, consequently, to become visible in the first place? Research by the All Survivors Project in the Central African Republic found that stigma, shame, limited specialized services and weak healthcare capacity create barriers for male survivors at every level, from the design of health systems and even to how survivors see themselves. Many feared rejection by their families and communities. Others simply assumed services were meant for women and girls and never sought care at all. Healthcare workers, meanwhile, were often found to lack the training and resources to respond to male survivors appropriately. Similarly, research on male survivors in Eastern DRC notes that counseling services have historically been built around models developed for women and girls. Thus, resources for male survivors remain rather limited.

Trésor’s experience shows the possible consequences of the invisibility problem. He initially remained outside the support center because he thought it was only for women. Invisibility therefore points to a structural problem in which survivors do not see themselves in a system that is, at least in theory, designed to respond to them. Costa substantiates the problem. Such support systems too often remain “gendered themselves (...). In some cases, this is visible even in the name of the service itself, meaning that male survivors often really have nowhere to go.” This matters for more than care, as support services often function as places where data gets collected. If male survivors, like Trésor, do not feel able to access these services, their cases may never be recorded in the first place.

Weil describes a similar set of barriers facing male survivors in Sudan, but also across other regions. These include “stigma, rigid norms of masculinity and the fear of being seen as ‘weak’ or ‘unmanly.’” There’s real risk, she says, of exclusion from family or community if abuse becomes known. On the legal and institutional side, she points to “a culture of impunity” alongside a low likelihood of investigation or prosecution, the destruction of health infrastructure, and limited access to confidential services. At the same time, however, Weil is careful not to frame this as men-specific. “Most of these barriers are cultural or structural ones that women experience just as much (...) that applies to all survivors.”

The Accountability Gap

The consequences of this under recognition extend beyond reporting and access to care and directly affect whether cases reach accountability mechanisms in the first place. In some contexts, legislation does not adequately recognize male victims of sexual violence, whether because of how rape is legally defined or because other laws criminalize same-sex acts. This can create an additional hurdle for male survivors who seek help, especially in contexts where authorities are not trained to recognize them as victims. As a result, Costa emphasizes that “they are not going to end up being part of the statistics because their report is never taken.” Moreover, Costa emphasizes that in places where same-sex conduct is illegal, non-consensual sexual encounters, such as rape and assault, are often seen as being indistinguishable from it. For male survivors, this means that seeking help can mean risking prosecution rather than receiving protection.

“If he survives the stigma, he will not survive the legal process,” Samy says, and further emphasizes the evidentiary difficulty male survivors face. Witnesses or cameras are often missing. This leaves survivors with little more than their own account to go on.

Although there have been important prosecutions, such as in 2023 when Munyololo Mbao, also known as Ndarumanga, was sentenced to life imprisonment for crimes against humanity, including forced pregnancy, by the Military Tribunal of Uvira in the DRC or prosecutions in the Central African Republic where the court also investigates cases of male survivors, CRSV accountability mechanisms remain limited in comparison with the scale of documented violence. These prosecutions, still, do not represent the actual scale of CRSV. Male survivors, above all, remain underrepresented in accountability mechanisms and beyond.

Even when cases receive major international media coverage, Samy says they rarely translate into meaningful pressure or consequences. For survivors, she argues, this can send the discouraging message that speaking out publicly and facing the backlash does not necessarily lead to change. Thus, survivors may think: “Why should I go through all of this if, in the end, it will be nothing?”

Indeed, Ernandes points to retraumatization as an important concern when survivors decide to take up the legal process regardless. A survivor may first go through rehabilitation, then a legal process and then potentially an international tribunal. At each stage, they may be asked to tell their story again. However, “victims very often try to forget,” Ernandes explains, yet the legal process repeatedly asks them to remember. If a case at the ICC ends in an acquittal, reparations may also fall away. The survivor can then become, in his words, “a victim again, this time of the legal process itself.”

“You have been a victim once of sexual violence, and then you go through the legal process, which can potentially fail you as a victim, and now you are a victim to the legal process.”
Judson Ernandes on revictimization

Accountability, moreover, starts long before a case reaches a courtroom. Survivors need access to medical and psychosocial care, legal support and safe ways to report what happened to them. Funding cuts can directly affect these forms of support. Costa further points to the basis on which that funding is granted, which is “very frequently tied to an agenda, often predominantly representing female survivors and victims.” This can make it harder to sustain work that also addresses the needs of male survivors. At the same time, she stresses that expanding support for men and boys should not come at the expense of women and girls: “They deserve again all of the support and all of the services and absolutely everything they need. And men and boys deserve it too.”

The same issue is visible closer to home. For instance, in the Netherlands, Costa says it is often “more difficult to get funding for projects including the male perspective of CRSV compared to if the focus lies on the women’s.”

Samy is also critical of the international response once violations are raised. In her work with conflict parties and European governments, she repeatedly encounters the same issue of, “when confronted with human rights violations, regimes point to the West’s own inconsistent record, such as trade with governments accused of similar abuses, and dismiss the criticism as hypocritical. An Egyptian official, for example, pointed to journalists killed in other countries to argue that Europe was in no position to lecture others.”

Both points concern how credible outside actors are. Ernandes takes this criticism further and questions what international involvement should look like in the first place. When asked what Europe or the international community should do differently, he says he “loves and hates” the question as it already assumes that outside actors should be involved. “International actors can end up imposing Eurocentric ideals of human rights, of rule of law, onto communities where they have their own understanding of that, while assuming that these communities do not have their own mechanisms or understanding of accountability.” Instead, he argues for stronger support for locally led and grassroots mechanisms, warning against a “white savior complex” in international responses to CRSV in Sub-Saharan Africa.

Conclusion: Beyond the Numbers

Across Sub-Saharan Africa, CRSV continues to be used in connection with intimidation, punishment, displacement, territorial control and other forms of coercion. Yet the available data cannot simply be treated as a measure of the violence itself. What becomes visible depends on whether survivors report, whether institutions recognize their experiences as sexual violence, and whether services exist to receive them in the first place.

We should therefore not view men and boys as simply underreported. They are difficult to be recognized within the very systems meant to document and respond to CRSV. Expectations around masculinity and stigma can discourage disclosure. Reporting practices may classify sexual violence as torture or inhumane treatment rather than identify it as sexual violence. At the same time, support services and funding structures often remain centred on women survivors, leaving male survivors with fewer entry points into care, documentation and thereby justice. This, importantly, does not mean that women and girls should receive less attention. Quite the opposite is needed. They remain the overwhelming majority of documented survivors. Rather, it means that the absence of men and boys from the data cannot simply be interpreted as their absence from the violence.

Consequently, the issues which need to be addressed are who is missing from the numbers, why they remain missing, and what this means for the international response to sexual violence in conflict.

As Weil puts it: “There is now good documentation of sexual violence in Sudan for instance (...) but that has barely translated into broader public or political awareness that rape is being used here systematically as a tactic to destroy communities, not as a marginal occurrence of war.” Moreover, Samy frames support for male survivors as inseparable from protecting women, not competing with it. “Unaddressed trauma does not simply disappear, it is carried back into families and often resurfaces as harm to the women closest to the survivor (...) This is reason enough, to take the matter seriously, even from a feminist perspective.”

In Summary:

• Months of tensions and threats were a cause for worry in Greenland and Denmark

• The new agreement increases the US’s military presence on the island, whilst respecting Danish sovereignty

• Still, the main outcome of this crisis might not be the agreement itself, but the lasting harm done to the transatlantic relationship

After many months of tensions, an agreement between Denmark, Greenland, and the US was finally signed on the sidelines of the 2026 UN General Assembly. The agreement, which builds on preexisting agreements, like that of 1951 and the 2004 Igaliku agreement, has been received positively on both sides of the Atlantic. Trump, on his own Truth Social, said the agreement was a “dream come true for the United States of America, one that is very important, historical and special”. Denmark’s foreign minister said the agreement is one that “we can all be very satisfied with” and upon returning home, Greenland’s delegation was given a heroes’ welcome. If everyone is now content, then what was the initial fuss about, and what does the agreement mean for Greenland? Furthermore, now that an agreement has been found, is the dispute actually settled, or should Europeans still be worried?

Why Greenland matters

First, a quick recap: why is Greenland important to Arctic security? As described in reports by the Clingendael Institute and HIG, the Arctic in general has become an area of increased geopolitical tension: The US, Russia, and China have all increased their military footprint in the region. In the Arctic, Greenland specifically occupies a strategic position. Together with Iceland and the United Kingdom, it forms the GIUK gap. This is a key maritime transit route that connects the North Atlantic to Northern Europe. The route is also Russia’s quickest way to access the North Atlantic and the American East Coast. Subsequently, NATO monitors this gap, denying Russian submarines access. Greenland’s Pituffik Space Base also plays an important role in the monitoring of potential long-range missile strikes.

How did we get here?

Greenland also caught the eye of US President Donald Trump. During his first term, he proposed to outright buy the island. Last year, he did not rule out taking the territory by military force and told the New York Times that acquiring it was “psychologically important” for him. As Time Magazine reported, the US President is alledgedly fearful of the increased Russian and Chinese presence around the island, and therefore frames the issue as one of national security. However, Karen van Loon, a research fellow at the Clingdael Institute who is specialised in the Arctic, notes that this should be taken with a grain of salt:

“The Americans say that Greenland is important for national security, and that is partially true, because the maritime zone is really important. But then Trump also mentions Russian and Chinese presence around Greenland, and in the way he describes it, that is simply not the case”

Other analysts, like those of the Center for Strategic & International Studies, have also noted the Trump administration’s desire to access Greenland’s rare earth minerals. Yet this is not as simple as it seems. Cristoph Humrich, assistant professor at the University of Groningen’s Arctic Centre, questions the feasibility of these ideas:

“Yes, people are interested in developing projects to access rare earth minerals. But the question is, is that a realistic prospect? There does not seem to be a widely shared plan on how to get investments, which you would need. Every bit of infrastructure for these mining projects would need to be built. That constitutes a huge investment. With climate change, it is also a rapidly changing environment, making it even more difficult.”

Regardless of the reliability of his motivations, Trump’s demands and threats still caused a major diplomatic crisis, which was only resolved after tensions had risen greatly. Van Loon continues:

“Trump was testing how far he could go. The EU responded by taking a strong stance and was considering deploying their “trade bazooka”. There were also concrete plans by Denmark, Germany and France to militarily defend Greenland against possible attacks. That sends a clear signal. It seems that behind the scenes, at the permanent representations to NATO and by heads of government, there was also a red line drawn, and that this message was received by the US. Maybe the diplomatic talks were not very smooth, but still, we have a deal now.”

The agreement: what is in it and what changed?

The agreement we have now is one that increases the US’ military presence on Greenland. Under Article 4 of the agreement, the US can open two new military bases on the island. Pituffik Space Base, the only base currently operational, is located in Western Greenland. The two new bases, located in Narsarsuaq and Mestersvig, thus expand US military presence to Greenland’s South and East coast. Outside of these military bases, the US will, in consultation with Denmark, also be allowed to establish “unmanned military installations”

The agreement also keeps other foreign powers out of Greenland. Unless otherwise agreed by the parties to the agreement, states outside of NATO will not be allowed any permanent presence on the island. Furthermore, foreign direct investment by states that are not in the EU, NATO, or NATO partners will be strictly restricted.

Still, these new policies do not represent any groundbreaking changes. Lukas Wahden, Ph.D. candidate at Sciences Po, gives a succinct analysis of the agreement:

“The new agreement builds on the 1951 Defence Agreement and the 2004 Igaliku Agreement. It supplements those texts as opposed to replacing them with a new treaty architecture. So, in the most basic terms, the new agreement modifies U.S.-Greenlandic-Danish relations, but within previously established guardrails.”

Humrich also notes the connection to earlier agreements:

“The opening of new bases was already possible, also with the previous agreement. If you consider the past and this new agreement, it is a reflection of the fact that Denmark was never able to defend Greenland, and Greenland will never be able to defend itself. That’s the reason the 1951 agreement existed, and it’s explicitly stated there”.

With the agreement similar to previous agreements and using their guardrails, it is a far cry from Trump’s original demand of buying Greenland. Mikkel Gudsøe, Honorary Associate Professor at Aarhus University and negotiation expert, explains this result:

“Trump’s strategy was just like a businessman trying to buy property. Then, when he couldn’t buy it, he tried to use some sort of coercion or pressure, like military force, or at least the threat of it - which is a very competitive, very dominating negotiation strategy. He also tried, meanwhile, to see if he could ‘bribe’ the Greenlandic people. Thinking that, ‘you know, maybe I cannot get the seller to sell the property, but what if I could get all the tenants, the people inside, to say we want to be a US citizen?’ When that failed, I think he went with his third-best option, and that was to strike a deal where he would have the military presence that he would also have had had he succeeded in buying Greenland or getting it to join the US.”

Winners and losers?

Now that Copenhagen and Nuuk have avoided a major geopolitical crisis and Trump has had to settle for his third-best option, does this mean that Denmark and Greenland are the winners in this situation? That conclusion is probably too simple. Van Loon says:

I would not use the term winner. The outcome is a relief for Greenland or Denmark, but not an embarrassment to the US either. From Trump’s various deals, this one seems like one of the more serious efforts. The Iran deal, for example, contains things that can never be realised. This deal is more realistic, meaning that they can hopefully follow the terms set out in the agreement”.

Similarly, Wahden also does not see a winner in this situation. He mentions that while “Denmark and Greenland have skillfully managed to avert a worst-case outcome,” there are “no clear winners” as the relationship between the US and Europe has been significantly damaged. For Mikkel Gudsøe, this damaged relationship also makes it hard to clearly evaluate the diplomatic outcome:

“If you now look at events from eight months earlier, you cannot really describe the US as a reliable, friendly ally. The agreement is good, but the partner you concluded it with is a bit suspicious, right? So it can go two ways: Either things will become normal again and this was just a bump in the relationship, or by giving them a larger military presence, you have basically let a transparent Trojan horse into your kingdom.”

Final thoughts

This agreement ends a period that can rightly be called a diplomatic crisis between Europe and the US. Therefore, it makes sense to see the agreement as a relief for Denmark and Greenland, like Van Loon pointed out. With the new military bases, the US’ national security concerns should also be eased, and with Greenland’s large size and difficult terrain, it makes sense that Denmark and Greenland need partners to keep the island secure. Yet, after this tense period and the various American threats, this whole saga should give Europeans pause: old friendships can no longer be taken for granted.

In summary:

• Sudan’s resources and strategic location have led to the involvement of various external actors

• The increasing rivalry between Saudi Arabia and the UAE is now also visible in Sudan

• With many regional actors fueling the conflict, peace seems far away.

The war in Sudan has been raging for more than three years. Persistent fighting between the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) and the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) has brought catastrophe to the Sudanese people. Nineteen million people are facing acute hunger, and Amnesty International reports various accounts of citizens being targeted for reprisals, indiscriminate killings, or sexual violence. A director of an NGO focused on Sudan, who wishes to remain anonymous due to the sensitivity of his work, describes the experiences of survivors as “truly dystopian: the worst things you could imagine have happened in Sudan. Stories of sexual violence, murder, famine, and other atrocities”

Importantly, this conflict is not isolated from outsiders. Outside powers have not done much to stop the fighting; instead, they fuel it. In their overview, the Wilson Center mentions outsiders like the UAE, Saudi Arabia, Türkiye, and Egypt all being involved. What brings these outsiders to Sudan?

Sudan’s resources

One of the main reasons outside powers are interested in Sudan and involved in its conflict is the presence of natural resources. Sudan is in the top 20 of the world’s gold producers. Warring parties fight over this gold to enrich themselves, fund their armies or make deals with their foreign backers.

Whilst many states are connected to the smuggled Sudanese gold, the UAE, as a key backer of the RSF, plays a vital role here: over half of the gold smuggled out of Sudan is directly shipped to the UAE, as estimated in Swissaid’s African Gold report. Conversely, Egypt as a backer of the SAF has also profited from smuggled gold. Though extremely important, gold is not the only thing of strategic importance that foreign backers desire. The European Council on Foreign Relations notes that for the Gulf states, which import more than 80% of their food, Sudan’s agriculture and livestock are also highly important.

Speaking on these resources, Hossamaldeen Ibrahim, a Sudanese political analyst at the Bloomsbury Intelligence and Security Institute, notes how they have created a war economy, which in turn has implications for conflict resolution: “The conflict has shaped a war economy that lots of actors benefit from. Not just the UAE, but also groups in Libya, Chad and Sudan itself. They benefit from the current situation, so they do not want the war to stop.”

A Gulf rivalry fought out in the Horn of Africa

Besides resources, there is also a larger game at hand: a competition between Saudi Arabia and the UAE for strategic influence over the Red Sea. Especially for the UAE, which, unlike Saudi Arabia, has no coastline on the Red Sea, Sudan’s strategic location is vital. With its geography, the Emirates are heavily dependent on the Persian Gulf and the Strait of Hormuz. Consequently, the UAE has been acquiring infrastructure and port concessions around the Horn of Africa and the Red Sea, in Egypt, Somalia and Somaliland. In a bid for Red Sea influence, here represented by commercial and infrastructure investments, Port Sudan would be a key strategic location to add to what an analyst at the Horn Review dubbed the UAE’s “virtual coastline”.

Notably, “The UAE doesn’t just supply the RSF with weapons and foreign mercenaries, but also with political talking points. Online, there is also a noticeable wave of pro-Emirati influencers and bot networks working to shift the narrative around the war and polish the UAE’s reputation,” says the NGO director.

This current competition for influence is also the result of an increasing divergence between the two Gulf states in the last few years. Ibrahim explains that this divergence originates from the period after the Saudi-led intervention in Yemen in 2015. Though the UAE was part of this coalition, there was a difference in opinion between them and Saudi Arabia on how Yemen should be governed, producing a rift between the two states. Ibrahim sees this rift in the diplomatic relations: “With these weak relations, the last time that the Saudi crown prince met with Mohammed bin Zayed was in December 2021 - you can tell from that how their relation is going.”

The differences between the Gulf states have led to them employing different regional policies. The UAE has employed an active foreign policy, allegedly backing various separatist forces and non-state actors around the region, as part of what analysts see as a strategy to access resources and gain strategic locations. These actions have been met with great dismay in Riyadh. As it is focused on transforming its domestic economy through the Vision 2030 project, foreign policy adventurism is not its priority. Instead, Saudi Arabia aims to preserve regional stability and the status quo, backing states and institutions it sees as capable of delivering this. That is why Saudi Arabia backs the SAF, whilst the UAE backs the paramilitary RSF.

The involvement of Turkey and Egypt

The competition for Red Sea access and influence is not limited to the two Gulf rivals. Turkey, though a more distant country, also plays an important role. Its main interest is not regional stability or the gold trade. Instead, similar to the UAE, it is also vying for influence on the Red Sea’s coastline. According to the European Council on Foreign Relations (ECFR), it cooperates on security with various states in the region. Its relationship with Somalia, where it has its largest overseas military base, is especially close. In 2017, it made a deal with the Sudanese government to restore the port of Suakin Island, allowing military and civilian vessels to also dock there. However, after the fall of Al Bashir, this project stalled, and Turkish influence decreased, with the Saudi-UAE rivalry initially shaping Sudan’s civil war. Yet, reports now increasingly allege Turkish military backing for the SAF. The Washington Post, for example, uncovered Turkey’s covert delivery of Bayraktar drones and hundreds of warheads. Ankara has seemingly decided that backing the SAF is its best bet to gain access to Sudan’s coastline and increase its foothold on the Red Sea’s coastline.

Egypt also plays an important part in the conflict: unlike the other states analysed, it also shares a border with Sudan, giving it a direct security stake and exposing it to conflict spillover. “For Egypt, cross-border stability is critical, especially since the war has further strained an already struggling Egyptian economy. On top of that, the Egyptian military has longstanding institutional ties with the Sudanese army, which explains Cairo’s clear backing of the SAF,” says the NGO director. Ibrahim notes how Egypt’s support for the SAF is also connected to a wider regional outlook: “When you look at Egypt, all their borders are on fire. They have Israel and Palestine, Libya, and now also Sudan. So they cannot risk having another country de facto controlled by a militia.”

A major example of Egypt’s military support is its base in East Oweinat. The New York Times revealed how, in 2024, this small airstrip was transformed into a large military base. Subsequently, cargo planes were spotted, and drones now depart from East Oweinat to carry out strikes on RSF targets in Sudan. Egypt has also allegedly carried out airstrikes on an RSF supply convoy passing through Libya. Recently, in evidence of intensifying cooperation, Egypt opened a joint operations center with the SAF and is rumoured to have increased its military support.

On a more strategic note, Egypt is, like Saudi Arabia, also wary of other states gaining access to the Red Sea. Thus, there is another reason for them to back the SAF, as Ethiopia - their longtime landlocked rival, which desires a Red Sea port - supports the RSF.

Final thoughts

The involvement of these various states in Sudan shows a clear pattern. External actors see the RSF or SAF as a way to secure gold or influence over the Red Sea. Sudan’s civil war is connected to broader regional rivalries and tensions.

The involvement of all these foreign powers also carries an important implication for conflict resolution: without dealing with them, the fighting is likely to carry on. That means that any mediation process must focus both on Sudan’s internal dynamics and the foreign powers sustaining the conflict” As the NGO director says: “External actors must be pressured to exercise their leverage over the warring parties to end the conflict. This needs to be real pressure, whether through restrictive measures or by halting enhanced engagement with the actors fueling the war, especially those financing and supporting genocide and ethnic cleansing”. Though that might be a complex political undertaking, it would clearly be worth it, in light of the conflict’s devastating consequences.

Finally, though foreign powers might see Sudan as a chessboard for influence in the region, it must be noted that the conflict has dire consequences for the lives of regular people in Sudan. They experience the everyday consequences of this conflict. To end with the words of Ibrahim:

“The people are tired, they are very tired. Though they know it will not be like what it used to be, they just want a sense of life. The social life, economic activities and education have completely stopped. Of course, we want to stop the war. But who can you tell? It seems like no one will listen.”

On 18 September 2026, US President Donald Trump signed a far-reaching new sanctions package aimed at Russia into law, shortly after it received bipartisan backing in both houses of Congress. The Lindsey O. Graham Sanctioning Russia and Iran Act of 2026 was named in honour of the late Republican senator Lindsey Graham, who died in July 2026. It gives the President the means to impose sanctions on Russian President Vladimir Putin and other senior government officials and military leaders, like freezing US-based assets, revoking US visas, or denying entry into the United States.

The Act further prohibits “the export, reexport, or in-country transfer to or in Russia of any U.S.-produced energy or energy products and U.S. persons from making new investments in Russia or purchasing Russian sovereign debt.” It also enables the President to impose tariff increases of up to 100% “on goods from the five largest importers of Russian crude oil or natural gas”. With this provision, the Act directly could hit, among others, China and India, which are by far the main importers of Russian crude oil. By putting pressure on these Asian giants, the US can persuade Beijing and New Delhi to use their influence in Moscow to force Putin to the negotiating table, although that is the rationale behind it.

But the devil is in the details. Forced by the Republican majority in Congress, the Act provides the President with broad authority to waive the sanctions, restrictions, and tariffs. This makes it essentially a toolbox he can choose to use, or not. Raising tariffs on Chinese and Indian goods because of their buying of Russian oil is a major and escalatory step. Such action would inevitably increase prices for consumer goods in the US. So, with the midterms in sight, it remains to be seen how quickly, or at all, Trump will take concrete action. This makes the actual effect of this Act hard to predict.

However, the quick approval of this potentially powerful new sanctions package can be seen as yet another sign that the best days of the Trump-Putin relation are over. Besides that, it is also an indicator that both Congress and the White House are still willing to provide support to Ukraine in its defence against Russia’s war of aggression.

There are at least two other indicators that point to solid and continuing US support to Kyiv. First is the long-term intelligence-sharing relationship between the US and Ukraine. American and Ukrainian intelligence services have worked closely together since the Russian annexation of Crimea in 2014, building a deep, high-trust, and reciprocal relationship. The CIA already spent millions of dollars to train Ukrainian intelligence agents and build dozens of secret forward-operating bases along the Russian border. After a brief pause in intelligence sharing in early 2025, the Trump administration started providing Ukraine with intelligence for long-range missile strikes on Russia’s energy infrastructure in October 2025, while calling on NATO allies to do the same. An increase in US intelligence sharing, mainly advanced satellite reconnaissance, is widely seen as a crucial enabler for Ukraine’s very successful deep strikes on Russian military and industrial infrastructure during the last months. Paradoxically, Trump recently called on Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky to stop the strikes on Russia’s oil industry, because these (and not Trump’s own war on Iran) would drive up global diesel prices.

A second indicator is that the US defense industry still provides Ukraine with the weapons that it critically needs, and that cannot be quickly replaced with European equivalents. The mechanism behind this is the PURL initiative (Prioritized Ukraine Requirements List), which officially started in July 2025. With PURL, Ukraine identifies its own critical military needs like air defense systems, interceptor missiles, artillery ammunition, and other strategic components. Ukraine, the United States and NATO then agree on packages of US weapons worth around $500 million each, which are directly financed by Ukraine’s European allies and produced and delivered to Ukraine by the U.S. Over the last year, PURL has proven to be a fast and efficient way to deliver crucial US-made weapons - such as Patriots interceptor missiles - to the front lines in Ukraine. The initiative has already funded more than ten weapons packages, worth nearly $ 7 billion. Norway, the Netherlands, and Germany are among the top contributors to PURL.

The current mode of US assistance to Ukraine could be what the cryptic phrase “critical but more limited support”, as coined in the 2026 U.S. National Defense Strategy, means in practice. This is the key concept that the Trump administration prefers to use to define its desired relationship with allies in Europe, the Middle East, and Asia. It is critical because the U.S. still provides Ukraine with strategic goods – like advanced intelligence and air defense systems – that no one else can provide at scale. But it is also painfully limited, underlining the urgent need for Europe to assume greater responsibility for its own security and taking the lead in supporting Ukraine’s defense.

The longstanding US sanctions on Russia’s banking sector, export controls on technology and dual-use goods, restrictions on new US investment and the sanctions specifically aimed at Russia’s oil giants Rosneft and Lukoil, together with the intelligence sharing and PURL initiative all play an important role in Ukraine’s effort to defend itself against Russia. Only with the PURL mechanism is there a direct transactional gain to the US. The intelligence support and the sanctions regime signal a more strategically steered U.S. willingness to support Kyiv.

If Trump actually dares to impose major tariffs on China and India because of their purchasing of Russian oil, this would potentially hit Russia’s oil export revenue harder than most sanctions packages since 2022 have. Supported by US intelligence, Ukrainian drone and missile strikes have already caused severe damage to the Russian economy. Trump now has a tool to push it over the edge.

Summary

• The Kaladan Project (KMMTTP) is meant to connect India’s Northeast with Myanmar’s Sittwe Port, reducing dependence on the Siliguri Corridor and strengthening trade and regional connectivity.

• The route runs through Rakhine and Chin States, which are heavily affected by the Myanmar conflict, which poses security risks for the project

• Dr. Datta and Dr. Routray consider completion by 2027 unlikely and explain security concerns while Ms. Banerjee stresses that the project’s value depends on stability along the corridor.

Introduction

In 2008, India signed a Framework Agreement with Myanmar on the construction of a transport facility along the Kaladan River, with the objective of enhancing bilateral relations and economic cooperation. The project was initially planned to be completed by 2014, but it has experienced several delays and missed the completion deadline of 2023. Security concerns around the project date back to 2019, when India supported a joint operation with Myanmar’s army against the Arakan Army, known as Operation Sunrise, to avert a possible threat to the project. Today, while the route is set to be operational by 2027, the expected strategic value of the project could also become a security liability with the changing political situation in Myanmar.

The Kaladan Project

The Kaladan Multi-Modal Transit Transport Project (KMMTTP) connects Myanmar’s Sittwe Port with Mizoram State in India, using sea, inland water, and road transport (which is why it is called multi-modal). Through the new route, India is expected to be able to transfer goods to its Northeastern region without passing through the Siliguri Corridor (also known as the “Chicken’s Neck Corridor“), offering an alternative route.

The 60-km-long Corridor, which is only 22 km wide in some parts, connects India’s Northeastern states (home to approximately 45 million people) to the rest of the country. As the only land bridge between the two parts of India, the Corridor carries all road and rail traffic to the Northeast, along with critical energy infrastructure and military logistics, making it one of the most sensitive points of the country.

Two recent developments have drawn further attention to the area around it. Ties between India and Bangladesh grew tense after Hasina was pressured to step down and India decided to give her refuge. China, meanwhile, continued its infrastructure build-up around Doklam, which India perceives as part of a broader attempt at strategic encirclement. Against this backdrop, according to Rajeev Lachmipersad, Geopolitical & Geo-economic analyst at HIG, the area around the Siliguri Corridor has become a growing concern for India. In his view, the Kaladan project is a way for New Delhi to avoid depending on one narrow corridor alone, or on Dhaka’s goodwill.

The alternative route would reduce dependence on the Corridor by allowing goods to flow to India’s own territories and to Southeast Asia through the Bay of Bengal, even when land routes are congested, boosting trade and strengthening regional connectivity. The route would also reduce travel time and costs for passengers.

Dr. Sreeradha Datta, Professor of International Affairs & Senior Fellow with the Institute of South Asian Studies, mentioned that “in the larger affair of India working closely with ASEAN, this would have been a great milestone”. She highlighted the project’s importance for Myanmar, which would benefit from development and more employment and livelihood opportunities for local people. This infrastructural growth is also expected to reduce road dependency and bring in foreign investment, further boosting Myanmar’s economy.

“Its potential goes beyond trade. It could support regional supply chains, border trade and greater economic integration of Mizoram and the wider Northeast with Myanmar and Southeast Asia.”

Sreeparna Banerjee, Associate Fellow in the Strategic Studies Programme of ORF

While right now the KMMTTP is a bilateral project between India and Myanmar, Dr. Bibhu Prasad Routray, Director of the Mantraya Institute for Strategic Studies (MISS) has mentioned that India would like to extend the project to countries like Thailand, once it is completed. This also aligns with India’s Act East Policy, that focuses on developing economic and strategic relations with Southeast Asian countries. However, Rakhine State also holds strategic value for China, as the site of the Kyaukphyu deep-sea port, roughly 120 km from Sittwe, where the oil and gas pipelines to Yunnan begin. Rajeev Lachmipersad therefore describes Kaladan as India’s counter to China in the Bay of Bengal, and whether India can complete it as China expands its presence is a test of the Act East Policy’s future

The States of Rakhine and Chin

The area of construction runs through Rakhine and Chin States in Myanmar, which are heavily impacted by the civil war. Even so, the Indian government has been developing the project in cooperation with the Myanmar government. Since April 2026, coup leader Min Aung Hlaing has led Myanmar as president, and representatives from India, China, Thailand and 20 other countries attended his inauguration. However, there have been reports of challenges and delays in the construction due to the ongoing armed conflict in Myanmar, with a 109-km-long road connecting India to Paletwa in Chin State still unfinished.

One of the armed groups active in the region is the Arakan Army (AA), which gained power throughout the civil war and now controls 14 out of 17 townships in Rakhine, excluding the Sittwe, where the port developed by India is located . By January 2024, the AA took over Paletwa, and later that year, the group had gained control over almost the entire Myanmar territory involved in the project (apart from Sittwe). Ms. Banerjee also added that it is not only the AA but also Chin armed groups that control or contest areas close to the Indian border, making the environment highly fluid.

“We are looking at a scenario of intense militant confrontation without an easy path to a settlement”

Dr. Routray, Director of MISS, Former Deputy Dir. at National Security Council Secretariat, Gov. of India

As a result, cooperation with the Arakan Army and other ethnic groups was necessary to progress with the project, and since then India has been engaging with both the government and the ethnic armed organisations (EAOs). At the regional level, Mizoram’s government has also stated that it has a good relationship with the AA, and the KMMTTP was discussed in its assembly.

“At this point of time, the country is so unstable, the military establishment is the only entity that provides stability,(…) while the ethnic groups, if you listen to them one group at a time, you will feel they are in total control (…) but actually on the ground, no. They do control some specific areas, but inter ethnicity rivalry prevents them from functioning as a consolidated political group.”

-Dr. Datta

All interviewed experts described India’s approach as centred on official engagement with the appointed government in Myanmar, in order to uphold state relations, combined with informal communications with other actors (such as EAOs), that have control around India’s border and the infrastructure. “The challenge will be doing this without appearing to formally recognise or endorse any particular armed group.” added Ms. Banerjee. In contrast to the Western approach of isolating the Myanmar government, India refrains from choosing a side.

“India does not do regime-change diplomacy. It talks to whoever holds the territory. In Myanmar that pragmatism is both its strength and its risk: it keeps the doors open, but it also means New Delhi is betting on everyone and fully trusted by no one.”

Rajeev Lachmipersad

Security Concerns

Although Arakan Army leaders have assured India that their operations will not hinder the construction, the fighting continues in the region and security challenges still remain. Dr. Routray explained that while the AA can ensure that the construction of the project goes ahead as long as they have control over the territory, this can change, since they cannot control the actions of other actors in the area. Ms. Banerjee similarly cautioned that, given the project’s exposure to conflict, India would need concrete security arrangements and continued communication rather than relying on political assurances alone.

So let’s say by miracle, the road gets completed, the project takes off (…) Just to put some pressure on the military administration, these ethnic groups are bound to, create a kind of a hostile and difficult environment.”

Dr. Datta on the risks after completing the project

Both Dr. Datta and Dr. Routray consider the completion of the KMMTTP by 2027 unlikely given the unstable circumstances. Dr. Routray argued that the project was conceived around a stable, single-authority Myanmar, which no longer exists and is unlikely to return. Dr. Datta noted that the armed groups have not supported construction so far because the project was designed with the Myanmar government. She added that while the groups are not against India itself, she sees no reason for them to change their stance by 2027. While India has been cooperating with the Myanmar government on the project, the project is also at risk of attacks from the country’s military forces since they have launched attacks in Paletwa in both 2025 and 2026.

Another security concern is the tension between the AA and the Chin groups, which has to be considered when looking at the wider dynamics of the situation. Ms. Banerjee explained that these tensions can affect the security of the roads, workers and supply lines, even if the AA provides assurances.

“For India, there are many complexities to be negotiated which include the AA’s ties to and tolerance of Chinese interests, the junta’s sensitivity to any India-AA contact, and the risk that Indian-funded assets become targets in the crossfire”

Dr. Routray

In addition to the security concerns, India also has to consider reputational risks that come with engaging with the Arkan Army, since the UN and other human rights organisations have reported that group has committed serious abuses of human rights against the Rohingya.

Conclusion

The Kaladan Project was designed to bring significant geopolitical and economic advantages for India by reducing its reliance on the Siliguri Corridor, boosting trade and strengthening regional connectivity. However, the project was designed around a stable Myanmar that no longer exists. While Dr, Routray and Dr. Datta consider the finalisation of the project by 2027 doubtful given the unstable situation, even if it was finished, it is unlikely to deliver its strategic value in the near future. With India being drawn into Myanmar’s conflict, making Indian-funded assets targets for both EAOs and the military group supporting the government, the project is exposed to several security threaths, and additional reputational risks that come with engaging with armed groups.

In Summary:

• 100-year oil concessions strengthen US access to Venezuela’s strategic resources and its influence in the hemisphere.

• The country holds 17.2% of global oil reserves, but deteriorated infrastructure complicates their extraction and management.

• The deal is signed between interim Venezuelan authorities under Delcy Rodriguez’s lead, US Secretary of State and US Secretary of War.

Context

The beginning of the year already showed the US administration’s line of politics, when by the 3^rd of January the Nicolas Maduro’s abduction occurred under the Operation Absolute Resolve. With the country’s leadership shifting to his vice president, Delcy Rodríguez, the event and the consequences it could bring raised numerous questions about Venezuela’s future and the role the US would play in it. Some answers have become clearer along the course of this remarkable year and one is certain: the US is determined to enter the country for the management of strategic resources and the Venezuelan interim government has marked their shift willing to collaborate.

Eight months after the military operation, the interim Venezuelan authorities, Secretary of State Marco Rubio and Secretary of War Pete Hegseth have signed an agreement involving 100-year oil concessions. The aim of the extraordinary military operation in January was presented as the pursuit of justice in the fight against drug trafficking. Today, two months ahead of the elections, President Trump talks about oil prices in the country and assures that US “dominance in the hemisphere is never again questioned.” Behind its description as “the biggest oil deal in history” lies a broader strategy based on a continental vision. How does control over Venezuelan oil fit into this continental view?

Characteristics of the oil industry and dilemma

The oil found in Venezuela, mostly along the Orinoco Belt and the Maracaibo Basin, is a heavy crude oil representing the 17,2% of the global reserves. Despite the significant quantity, the nature of its kind makes its management highly complex, requiring specialized processes to extract, refine and transport it, that result in high production costs. It is in this difficulty where the dilemma around the resource lies.

The management of oil in the country had been previously affected in a severe way by a process of nationalization carried out during the Chavez presidency. The requirement of the country’s leader to limit the presence of international companies and the later internal disagreements from the regime with the state oil company PDVSA, caused the exit of a notorious amount of professionals and experts working in the industry. Moreover, the consequent judgement on ExxonMobil and ConocoPhillips cases, which were brought to international arbitration, resulted in a large-scale sovereign debt crisis.

The deterioration of the energy and electricity industry in the country has been progressive since the last decades, to the extent that it is affecting the daily life of every Venezuelan. According to Stefano Santarelli, Venezuelan researcher based in Italy; “Blackouts happen on a daily basis and can last up to six hours”. Two problems come along, he remarks: Not only the Venezuelan people have stopped trusting any possible improvement coming from a domestic solution, as it has not yet happened in the last fifteen years. But also, foreign investors are not willing to take risks in a country where the damaged infrastructure limits the oil’s industry capacity for recovery and development.

“US and US only”

The Chinese and Russian flags had previously been seen in the Venezuelan coasts too. Under the so-called “shadow fleet” they had been receiving and transporting oil until the U.S. seizure of the vessels. “China and Russia have been present in Venezuela to collect their debts, but there is no interest in investing in machinery or infrastructure in the country. NABEP is currently the only company willing to carry out those operations”.

The very first point of the published fact sheet from the United States refers to the North American Blue Energy Partners (NABEP) pointing to the 100-year concession the interim authorities granted to the private company. From the Venezuelan side, Rodriguez indicates 25 years of a bilateral project. Santarelli comments: “Although the 100 year concessions can be read as an unproportional amount, the decline of the infrastructure since the 80s-90s now requires such an investment of time to be recovered.” In the Official Gazette (no. 43.449) it is described as “an strategic instrument to continue the economic recovery of the nation”. In these circumstances, could the approach of the US be perceived as a prosperous solution?

Conversely, it is only the mirage of the short-term. Rajeev Lachmipersad, Geo-economic analyst at The Hague Institute of Geopolitics, clarifies: “under the umbrella of the US, Venezuela experiences an opening of the country. However, becoming a client-state implies the glass ceiling of the middle income trap”. Lachmipersad returns to the map of the Technate of America to further analyse the context.

Devised after the great depression in the 30s and later introduced as a utopian vision of the post-World War II scenario, the Technate of America is a radical geopolitical proposal based on a continental defence. Since the new Trump administration arrived at the White House, similarities between the theory, discourses, and policies can be found in different aspects; The increase of a technical elite within government positions is the most direct relation to the term. Driving to the merge of politics and technological development, as big-tech companies become an actor with capability to intervene.

Extended to the dominance of other resources, “energy, critical raw materials and the access to markets” are a core part of the continental view, explains Lachmipersad. As evidenced with the request of Greenland and the conflict in Iran, January’s abduction and the present oil deal is framed under the same pretension.

Lastly, but most importantly, territory is not an asset in this form of “modern empire”. Control is practiced through exclusive access, but the overtake of territory would mean the management of a different society, something that would not be productive to the nationalist view. As criteria for the deal “a majority of NABEP’s board of directors must be U.S. citizens. NABEP will have reputable U.S. auditors, lawyers, and advisors and the U.S. government’s agreement with NABEP is governed by U.S. law and is subject to the jurisdiction of U.S. courts” is indicated. The MAGA movement coexists with the continental view, “it is all framed as a security matter and American wellbeing. There is an alignment of tech development and libertarianism with MAGA influence, together with the continental thinking”, asserts Lachmipersad.

Although the country’s sovereignty remains on Delcy Rodriguez’s leadership, the US intervention reinforces the unequal power relation in which Venezuela becomes a client state to the great power.

Repercussions

In the international realm, the continental security paradigm behind the control of oil points to the broader shift in the global geopolitical order: US influence is strengthened in the Western hemisphere, forcing other great powers to reconsider their position in the region while Latin American strategic autonomy is narrowed.

Furthermore, at the national level, the closeness of the interim authorities to the United States entails a distance between Delcy Rodríguez’s government from the Chavista rule and later Maduro’s regime. However, becoming highly dependent on the expansionist power, the consequences for the Venezuelan people are yet to be seen. “The deal is occurring under an interim government not chosen by citizens, which involves a hundred-year decision,” announces Santarelli. Some advocate for the rapprochement, if only to see changes, while others fiercely oppose US involvement, and a significant number consider migrating and “starting from scratch” as a solution to the country’s current situation.

In Summary

• The Mecca Pact brings together Saudi Arabia, Türkiye and Pakistan in an agreement where an attack against one is considered an attack against all

• Despite recent Houthis attacks on Saudi territory, Riyadh has decided not to invoke the Pact

• Riyadh’s reluctance cannot be understood without considering the legacy of the Yemen war and how a confrontation with the Houthis could escalate tensions with Iran

The Mecca Pact Meets the Houthi

Six weeks after signing the Mecca Joint Defence Agreement where Saudi Arabia, Türkiye and Pakistan declared that an armed attack against one would be considered an attack against all, a Houthi ballistic missile was launched towards Riyadh. Saudi air defences intercepted it. However, the collective response that should derive from the pact did not follow. The agreement, signed on 7 August, represents an important defence framework which involves three countries with considerable military capabilities. Since the signing date, however, renewed Houthi attacks on Saudi territory have not resulted in a Turkish or Pakistani military intervention, as Riyadh has continued to deal with the threats on its territory without asking its new partners to enter the conflict. This makes us wonder: why has Saudi Arabia not sought to invoke the Mecca Pact after the attacks?

A possible answer could partly lie in Yemen. Saudi Arabia already spent seven years fighting the Houthis during the 2015–2022 Yemen war, only to discover the limits of its military force, which eventually pushed Riyadh towards direct negotiations with the movement. The conflict also exposed an asymmetric dynamic: while Saudi Arabia tried to defeat the Houthis, the movement kept imposing costs simply by retaining the ability to strike Saudi territory. A new collective military campaign could therefore bring Riyadh back into a conflict in which its military had failed to produce a desired outcome. Yet, Saudi Arabia’s reluctance to call upon a collective response also raises questions about the agreement itself.

On the one hand, both Türkiye and Pakistan might have their own strategic interests, which include relationships with Iran as well, while the Houthis represent a different type of challenge compared to a straightforward attack by another state. The fact that a collective response has not taken place yet does not necessarily disregard the utility of the Mecca Pact, but rather suggests that Saudi Arabia might see a deeper necessity for this agreement. In fact, the Pact might provide Riyadh with additional layers of deterrence, intelligence services and strategic support from its two partners.

What is behind the Mecca Pact?

But first, let’s dive into the rationales behind the signing of the Mecca Pact. First of all, the Mecca Pact does not simply give Riyadh two additional partners to turn to in case of conflict, but it also brings together three states with different resources at a time when Saudi Arabia is seeking to broaden its defence partnerships.

Dr. Umer Karim, Associate Fellow with the King Faisal Center for Research and Islamic Studies based in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, argues that “Saudi Arabia understands that Pakistan and Turkiye are two major middle powers with considerable defensive capabilities and professional armed forces”. He explains that cooperation with the two countries could allow Riyadh to expand its military capabilities while becoming more involved in Turkish and Pakistani defence-industrial development.

The arrangement also gives Saudi Arabia another layer of security cooperation alongside its longstanding relationship with the United States. On the one hand, Türkiye brings a growing defence industry and NATO membership; on the other, Pakistan has been an ally of Saudi Arabia for eight decades in a row and its nuclear capabilities add another layer of deterrence.

This framework of alliances could be seen as a tool for building capabilities, coordinating security policy and strengthening deterrence. This means that what Saudi Arabia wants from Türkiye and Pakistan may not necessarily be about their direct participation in a war in Yemen.

The Shadow of the Yemen War

Saudi Arabia’s reluctance to intervene in Yemen with its two allies also reflects the legacy of its involvement in Yemen, which began long before the current attacks, namely in 2015, when the military intervention launched had failed to defeat the Houthis in northern Yemen.By 2022, Riyadh had increasingly shifted its strategy towards keeping the threat under control rather than achieving a victory at all costs, while negotiating with the Houthis.

As Dr. Ewa Strzelecka, Visiting Senior Fellow, London School of Economics and Political Science, Centre for Women, Peace and Security, UK argues, “The 2022 truceshifted the relationship towards direct bargaining”. She continues by saying that “Saudi Arabia sought assurances against attacks on its territory and border; the Houthis pressed for salary payments, access through ports and Sana’a airport, and a deal with Riyadh before negotiations among Yemeni parties.” Saudi-Arabia also imposed restrictions on Houthi-controlled ports and airports, which remain a major source of contention. In fact, the Houthis have cited what they describe as a blockade as one of the reasons for their escalation against Saudi Arabia. The 2022 truce therefore reduced hostilities without resolving the underlying sources of conflict.

As Dr. Strzelecka notes, “Riyadh also continued to finance and organise government-aligned forces, particularly as it assumed a larger role in managing the anti-Houthi camp in 2026. The Houthis therefore see a contradiction in Saudi policy: Riyadh seeks a negotiated exit while strengthening their opponents.” Riyadh, therefore, is confronted with a dilemma. On the one hand, a military response involving both Türkiye and Pakistan could show the pact’s strength in practice; on the other, it could also throw Saudi Arabia into exactly the same conflict it has spent years trying to control. What we could see as Riyadh’s strategy, then, is its attempt to defend the Saudi territory without turning past hostilities into another long-term war and direct involvement in Yemen.

But are the Houthis the Threat the Pact Was Built For?

The type of threat that the Houthi represent complicates the option of a collective intervention as a response to an armed attack against one member. This is because the Houthis present quite an unconventional situation as they are a non-state armed actor deeply embedded in Yemen’s unresolved conflict. The agreement itself might not provide a clear answer to a situation like this. To be more clear, as Dr. Karim explains, “for now the three sides are in the process of determining their respective critical threat thresholds, the sort of support they can provide to one another and also the practical issues with regard to command and control dynamics and trilateral force inter-operability and integration.”

This makes the current conflict particularly complicated in terms of deciding whether or not to trigger the Pact: Houthis attacks might fall within the broader meaning of the pact, but this does not necessarily mean that Riyadh knows which response needs to be followed. The question therefore becomes whether the scale and nature of the attack justify bringing Saudi Arabia’s two partners into the conflict.

Collective Defence Without Collective War?

Another aspect which we need to consider is the practical side of the Pact itself, as the agreement is still taking shape. As Dr. Karim explains, “I think this agreement and its modalities are in the development phase right now and therefore expectation of a swift entry by the other two pact members in defense of Saudi Arabia is unrealistic”. This means that the three partners still need to develop and determine the mechanisms through which this commitment becomes reality. Pakistan’s role also complicates the assumption that invoking the pact will mean that its forces enter the conflict. It is important to remember that Pakistan already has a separate Mutual Strategic Defence Agreement with Saudi Arabia, which provides a bilateral framework beyond the Mecca Pact.

As Ghulam Ali Murtaza, PhD researcher at the Institute of History, Leiden University, specializing on Pakistan’s foreign relations, argues, “if it was just the question of Pakistan’s military assistance to deal with the Iranian threat or Houthi attacks, they could have secured that without a formal agreement.” This shows that a collaboration between the two countries from a military point of view did not need to be formalized through the pact signed on August 7, meaning that there is a broader purpose being discussed among the two.

In fact, Murtaza also points to Pakistan’s relationship with Iran as a potentially more important asset: “so more than Pakistan’s military prowess, the Saudis would like Pakistan to leverage its relationship with Iran to help it arrive at some sort of peaceful settlement with the latter.” This is essential to our understanding of the Mecca Pact and Saudi Arabia’s interests: for Murtaza, the pact strengthens Riyadh in shaping regional security that includes Iran. If we see it this way, Saudi Arabia’s skepticism in invoking the Mecca Pact is less paradoxical: Riyadh can use the pact for military cooperation, deterrence and diplomacy without having necessarily to convert every attack into a war involving three countries.

What kind of Alliance is the Mecca Pact?

The Houthi attacks have confronted Saudi Arabia with an important distinction between defence on paper, as established in the Mecca Pact, and collective war in practice. Saudi Arabia has been attacked, but Riyadh has decided not to involve Türkiye and Pakistan yet. Riyadh’s choice reflects multiple considerations: the costly Yemen war of the past, the risks of a new escalation, and the still-developing mechanisms through which the members of the Pact would respond collectively. This does not necessarily make the Pact irrelevant. Instead, the current crisis suggests that its value may extend beyond a joint military intervention. Intelligence sharing, military technology and diplomatic leverage might result even more important in this type of war. The Houthi attacks therefore represent an early test of what collective defence means in practice. The more interesting test will occur when and if Riyadh will decide that defending Saudi Arabia can no longer be managed through its own capabilities, and will ask exactly what “an attack on one being an attack on all” will mean in practice.

In Summary

• China’s expanding military, economic and infrastructural footprint across the Indian Ocean Region (IOR) is challenging India’s primacy and geographical advantage by increasing pressure around crucial Sea Lines of Communication (SLOC) and chokepoints.

• India is responding by developing maritime infrastructure on Great Nicobar and Lakshadweep, expanding surveillance and naval reach, and placing greater emphasis on securing vulnerable chokepoints and shipping lanes.

• Because of the asymmetry between India and China, India’s strongest answer lies in strategic partnerships, regional capacity-building and stepping into the role of preferred net security provider and development assistance partner for Indian Ocean States.

The continental factors along with the shifting world order have forced India’s hand in its strategic approach. India has returned to its strategic hedging approach, but faces threats from all fronts. To navigate the fracturing world order, India seeks to increase its capacity under its threat perception through stronger collaborative chains, strategic military infrastructure, securing crucial maritime corridors and developing improved military capacity to raise its overall role in the geopolitical theatre. Currently, the biggest threat is China, by increasing pressure on multiple fronts and furthering relations with Pakistan. Historically, for most of the Sino-Indian rivalry, the map pointed north. However, New Delhi is now looking south, as Beijing’s flagship project, the Belt and Road Initiative, further enlarges China’s active development, growing influence, and increase of Chinese presence in the Indian Ocean Region. With the vast expanse of vital Sea Lines of Communication, connecting Europe, Africa, Asia, and prominent chokepoints harboured in the IOR, the security of the ocean is most crucial. This raises the question:

In what manner, and to what extent, can India grow its capacity to help secure the Indian Ocean Region while navigating China’s growing presence?

India’s Vulnerability to China’s Opportunity

In historical context, India has cause to increase its maritime capacity to repel and prevent possible pressure from the Indian Ocean. Its maritime strategic culture has been shaped by its history, as during the period of British raj, India’s loss of independence was attributed to a lack of control over the waters to its south. Consequently, India was exposed to colonial rule for nearly 200 years, from 1757 until 1947, which was accompanied by concomitant developmental constraints. However, post-independence India equally struggled to address the maritime frontiers. The recurring conflicts and unresolved territorial engagements with its continental neighbours to the north (e.g. 1962 Sino-Indian war, the 1965 war with Pakistan) left India distracted, and financially incapable to develop its maritime capacity to a much needed standard. The continental theatre proved much more dangerous and threatening, with China and Pakistan applying multifrontal pressure on India, which directed resources towards the Army and Air Force, allowing policymakers to neglect maritime development. The geopolitical environment surrounding India became relatively benign in the 1990s, with major security challenges coming in the form of terror attacks, border disputes and the dynamic nuclear escalation. However with India opening its borders to global trade, its reliance on SLOCs for trade provided necessary traction for reforms to proactively develop the Indian Navy (IN). India’s maritime diplomacy has broadened alongside its material naval expansion. As a result of the absence of strategic competition in the Indian Ocean, New Delhi was able to play a prominent role and ensure a favorable and secure Indian Ocean for its strategic interests. Yet the ever-widening strategic and capacity gap between China and India, through Beijing’s economic growth and military modernisation, allowed China to offer substantial economic projects and assistance in South Asia and the IOR. However, China’s ability to insert itself in India’s backyard was because New Delhi left vulnerabilities for China to exploit. Hence, India’s vulnerability became China’s opportunity.

“Maritime power, for India, functions less as an alternative to continental deterrence against China and more as a complementary axis of leverage in a strategic environment where land and sea pressures have become mutually reinforcing.” - Dr. Abhigya Langeh, Research Assistant, Head, Chinese and Tibetan Studies, Centre for Joint Warfare Studies (CENJOWS), HQ IDS, Ministry of Defence .

China’s growing presence sharpened India’s concern regarding its position in the IOR, combined with the historical factor, the 2015 SAGAR, ‘Security and Growth for All in the Region’ vision, was launched, and positioned India as cooperative net security provider and development partner within the IOR. The more recently announced MAHASAGAR from 2025, broadened its vision to ‘Mutual and Holistic Advancement for Security and Growth Across Regions’. Although MAHASAGAR was not an officially formulated strategy to oppose Chinese presence, its expansion provides an answer to the intensifying competition with Beijing for influence across the Indian Ocean and beyond.

Why is China so threatening?

India’s threat perception of China stems from the confluence of continental, maritime and economic pressures. Unresolved border disputes place Chinese military power on India’s continental fronts, while Beijing’s partnership with Pakistan expands the pressure-point to the West and across the Indian Ocean. The significant military and economic power gap between the two states restrains India’s room for manoeuvre. Hence, India’s maritime threat perception has increasingly been shaped by what analysts describe as the ‘String of Pearls’. China’s ‘String of Pearls’ refers to the growth of economic, infrastructural and potentially military access across the Indian Ocean with the emergence of its maritime network spanning across IOR. However, the term ‘String of Pearls’ is used to describe China’s strategy, but it is not an officially declared national strategy. Chinese entities have financed, constructed, operated or acquired stakes in numerous commercial ports across the IOR, several of which possess the physical characteristics to support naval vessels. The existence of Chinese dual-use facilities located directly in India’s own backyard, enhance the pressure points on both economic and military fronts. India’s naval development, formulated in 2011, was coined ‘Necklace of Diamonds’, an additional metaphor to characterise its response to China’s growing presence, but not an official government discourse.

“The China factor is huge, and the thing about the China factor is, it’s not only a comprehensive challenge in terms of its military footprint, its commercial footprint. It’s industrial and infrastructure footprint, but also because China is a unique actor in terms of its ability to be a sovereign state that can leverage non-traditional security threats against you” - Dr. Dattesh D. Prabhu-Parulekar, Assistant Professor at Goa University, and Visiting Faculty, at multiple National Tri-Services Defense and War Colleges, across India.

China’s maritime developments in the IOR are strategically located in close proximity to oil shipping lanes, as derived from image 1. The looming detail is that almost all crucial ports, highlighted with a star in the image, serve as both commercial and naval ports.

Such dual-use ports could be reason for concern when political conflict between the countries reaches certain heights. Dual-use ports would allow for extended Chinese presence in the IOR, as the ports allow China to sustain naval forces far from their home. For India, the longer-term question is whether these relationships and facilities could help transform the PLAN (People’s Liberation Army Navy) from an extra-regional force that periodically deploys into the Indian Ocean into one capable of maintaining a more persistent regional presence.

“a “Necklace of Diamonds” counter-network across littoral states functions as India’s own attempt to cultivate mitra relationships within the very mandala China is constructing. This has grown more urgent as the PLA Navy pushes deeper into the Indian Ocean via facilities stretching from Gwadar to Djibouti” - Dr. Abigyah Langeh

Additionally, Chinese projects and trade has grown substantially in the IOR, with critical mineral seabed-exploration contracts, infrastructure projects, arms sales and collaborative maritime exercises around India and key chokepoints as can be seen in Images 2 and 4. The primary recipient of China’s arms sales are Pakistan, Myanmar, Thailand and the United Arab Emirates (UAE), while multiple other IOR coastal states are recipients of other projects. Following image 2, the majority of the most recent projects are concentrated on East Africa, where the BRI or the ‘Maritime Silk Road’ (the Maritime aspect of the Belt and Road Initiative) brings in Chinese investment to East African Ports and connectivity infrastructure, which provides Beijing with growing economic influence and logistic access to the Indian Ocean Region, Europe and the Middle East. This is especially important, since China challenges the regions India declared as areas of maritime interest, namely the East African littoral, the Horn of Africa and the western Indian Ocean.

China conducts a range of air, land and maritime exercises in collaboration with multiple partners across multiple parts of the Indian Ocean coastline, reinforcing Indian concerns of widening Chinese security presence in its maritime neighbourhood, encircling India. While the exercises are not inherently hostile, China and its PLA is learning how to operate in India’s theatre, when China’s distance and unfamiliarity were previous strengths for India. China’s exercises have expanded from the Red Sea to the Malacca strait across the Indian Ocean with consistency over the past years. In 2024 and the first quarter of 2025 the region saw six Chinese maritime exercises, each bilateral, trilateral or multilateral (not including port visits or passing exercises), as seen in image 3. Though important to note that China’s presence in the IOR does not imply the means to engage in military confrontation, or being successful in one. Indeed, China’s vast and rapid progression of presence in the region would instead indicate its interest to defend itself and safeguard its SLOCs, while relying on the partnerships in the region to assist and bear part of the load.

Using images 1, 2 and 4 when analysing the region from East to West, certain chokepoints become increasingly important. For instance, image 2 showcases Chinese activity through infrastructure projects in the IOR, which spans across the entire region. Many of these projects aim at littoral states (states with a border connected to the ocean) and cover the entire length of the crucial oil shipping lanes (image 1 & 4) through the Indian Ocean while strategically placing ports near important bottlenecks. Some ports, such as the important Doraleh port in Djibouti (accompanied by the PLA military facility), Gwadar port in Pakistan, Hambantota port in Sri Lanka, and Kyaukpyu Port in Myanmar were constructed under the Belt and Road Initiative or later incorporated into the BRI, flagging them as ‘BRI Signatory’. The expanded reach of Beijing’s projects and military capabilities substantially boosts China’s power-projection, capabilities and geopolitical standing through its economic dominance, as portrayed in the IOR. The example of Chinese presence in the IOR highlights how China’s economic endeavours enable them to establish roots in strategic locations of geopolitical and geo-economic importance , such as the (north-)eastern-side of Africa, the very south of Sri Lanka, the west-coast of Myanmar, and Pakistan.

Looking at Pakistan, which serves as an example of another threat to India, would better contrast the China threat. Pakistan alone represents a significant threat to India, with comparable security challenges to China. However, India’s significant conventional advantages make Pakistan a manageable, but nuclear-armed, regional competitor. On its own, India possesses a substantially larger conventional military, economic base and naval force than Pakistan. New Delhi has greater capacity to sustain a prolonged conflict, but Pakistan nuclear deterrence prevents India’s numerical superiority to translate into military dominance. China disrupts this balance by supplying Pakistan with major arms imports between 2021 and 2025, with 80 per cent of Pakistan’s arms being supplied by China. Chinese assistance to Pakistan is modernising its capabilities across multiple fronts, adding to its own continental pressure and providing increased leverage at sea. Pakistan’s acquisition of eight Chinese-designed Hangor-class submarines, the first of which entered into service in 2026, further indicates that while Pakistan poses a challenge, the true, looming threat is China.

Regardless of China’s rationale behind the financial support, construction of critical infrastructure and increased trade to the recipient BRI countries, the geographical position of Chinese-linked infrastructure projects, combined with increased relations also carry tactical value. By effectively placing facilities near the important SLOCs and chokepoints, Beijing inserts itself through economic influence where political and physical conditions are arranged in a manner to support extended Chinese maritime presence (e.g. Bab El-Mandeb Strait).

“China’s so-called String of Pearls, port and logistics access in Gwadar, Hambantota, and Kyaukpyu, reads, in this idiom, as an attempt to constitute exactly such a mandala around India, using commercial infrastructure as the visible face of latent military reach. Chinese investment in these ports has created what analysts describe as an encirclement scenario, with over 80% of India’s oil imports passing through Indian Ocean sea lanes that China’s growing naval presence increasingly shadows.” - Dr. Abhigya Langeh

The Battle of Strategic Dependencies (chokepoints)

As India feels China’s ‘String of Pearls’ tightening with Beijing’s growing dominance in the IOR, it has accelerated military and infrastructure upgrades as part of its own ‘Necklace of Diamonds’. Crucial projects, such as the Great Nicobar Project on the Andaman and Nicobar Islands (A&N Islands) which are strategically positioned near the Malacca Strait, were prioritised with the aim to give India an arsenal to establish a strong geopolitical standing, allow it to secure the region and defend its interests. Despite its geostrategic importance, The Great Nicobar Project is not without controversy. Concerns surrounding extensive forest clearance and the potential effects of development on the Island’s indigenous Shompen community were raised.

Image 4 showcases the shipping lanes including ‘chokepoints’ in the Indian Ocean, which harbors the greatest concentration of major strategic maritime chokepoints. From east to west, first the Malacca Strait, which could serve as a tactical chokepoint for India, where 30 per cent of the global oil trade and 80 per cent of the oil imported by major Asian consumers passes through. Especially important is that 80 per cent of China’s imported crude oil travels through the Malacca Strait, meaning that with close proximity, India has capabilities to leverage its position to threaten China’s energy supply, and indirectly its economy. Indira Point, a critical geographical feature marking the absolute southernmost location of India’s territory located at the southern tip of the Great Nicobar Island (GNI), provides India better capabilities to enact their responsibility as a net security provider in the region. Mainly, the goal of India’s Great Nicobar Project is to transform the island into a maritime and economic hub and consequently enhancing strategic autonomy by limiting the dependence on foreign transshipment ports.

“The second benefit is sea-lane and chokepoint leverage [...] A navy capable of credible presence at the Malacca Strait, and of contesting Chinese logistics through the Bab-el-Mandeb and the Mozambique Channel, gives India reciprocal leverage against precisely the vulnerability China has cultivated toward India” - Dr. Abhigya Langeh

Indira Point is not only positioned in proximity to the Malacca Strait, but also near the Six Degree Channel, as highlighted in image 4. The Six Degree Channel is a major shipping lane connected to the Malacca Strait, where the transformed A&N Islands could provide significant geopolitical leverage in the IOR. The islands are amidst the Bay of Bengal and the Andaman Sea, and straddle Duncan’s Passage and the Ten Degree Channel, all of which serve as important trade routes for India. The total 572 islands, of which 38 are inhabited, comprise 30 per cent of India’s Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ). The Malacca Strait is crucial for access to the South China Sea and further to the Pacific Ocean, and as the A&N Islands are at its intersection, with direct access to the Six Degree and Ten Degree Channels (as showcased in Image 5), India is in possession of ‘a diamond’.

A 2015 Maritime Strategy document identified Lakshadweep (the Laccadives) as an area of primary interest. The archipelago, located in the western quadrant of the IOR, the Arabian Sea, is near the Nine-Degree Channel, a vital SLOC in the IOR. Its comparably close proximity to the Gulf, the choke points of the Mozambique Channel and Bab el-Mandeb strait, compared to the Indian mainland, increases its importance as a geopolitical asset. Historically, the archipelago was neglected and considered a liability, as India’s preoccupation with the territorial disputes to the north furthered the archipelago’s underdevelopment and underutilisation in the maritime domain. The development of the Lakshadweep benefits India’s maritime development through increased opportunities for safeguarding the SLOC, promoting and executing the fundamental vision of the Indian MAHASAGAR. The archipelago’s geographical location near the Nine Degree Channel magnifies India’s capacity to ensure the protection of the uninterrupted supply chain and trade route. The archipelago’s facilities, such as INS Dweeprakshak naval detachment, INS Jatayu on Minicoy, Androth naval detachment, and the Coastal Surveillance Network - Six Phase-I radar stations, allow for monitoring and reconnaissance capacity of all entities, including extra-regional actors in the region with access to developed Lakshadweep islands. With the Lakshadweep islands in its arsenal, India has gathered a second diamond for its necklace.

The previous Red Sea crisis and the ongoing war between the US and Iran serve as a reminder of the fragility of the chokepoints, as most of the world suffered from Red Sea Crisis, and currently, the Strait of Hormuz’s difficult passage. This indicates the need for strategic autonomy, as the sheer scale of reliance on foreign security providers for safe passage in the Hormuz Strait has got a chokehold on global trade. Hence India’s wariness of chokepoints has increased, including China’s Djibouti military facility, which could leverage its proximity to the Bab el-Mandeb Strait. India’s proactive response to these crises include more frequent energy-supply monitoring, sustained surveillance around Hormuz and the Gulf of Oman, diversified the crude oil supply away from Hormuz-dependent producers, sought alternatives for gas suppliers and routes, introduced RELIEF programme supporting exporters facing war-risk insurance, and instituting real-time monitoring of Indian vessels.

The Bab el-Mandeb Strait, crucial to global trade, allows most oil destined for the European market to pass through, with an alternative route adding 4750 nautical miles (nm) (around 12 extra days) via the Cape of Good Hope to the port of Rotterdam. China’s military base in Djibouti gives Beijing an instrumental presence at the ‘Gate of Tears’, allowing China to insert itself into proximity of the 29 km (18 miles) wide waterway, vital for traffic from Asia to Europe via the Suez Canal. While China does not control the chokepoint, it has permanent logistics infrastructure and military foothold beside it, with replenishing capabilities. Recent satellite imagery showed the upgrades at the PLA Djibouti base, image 6 showcases the Djibouti base. This strengthens China’s military operations far from its territory and provides improved long-range military communications and signals-intelligence. In addition, Houthi developments demonstrated the weaponisation of a chokepoint, even by a relatively small actor. Attacks and threats on traffic have disrupted regional shipping, and energy supply. This indicates that maritime chokepoints could be weaponised by smaller navies. Geographic positioning, coastal forces and a relatively inexpensive arsenal capable of disrupting traffic can lead to disproportionate economic leverage.

For New Delhi, weariness around securing chokepoints has increased significantly, after Bab el-Mandeb and the Hormuz Strait have demonstrated their capacity in disrupting global trade, functioning as instruments of geopolitical and economic leverage in the hands of controlling actors.

India’s race to relationships

Primacy is not guaranteed by geography alone in the current globalised world order, which applies to India and the Indian Ocean. Effectively operating on such a large body of water requires India to effectively collaborate and cooperate with littoral states in the region, while combining stronger naval powers to ensure security in the region. India’s strategic hedging approach, which aims to prevent the perception of India as a member of a containment strategy led by the West, has its disadvantages. The problem arises when India refuses to take sides, which could affect outside perspectives, heightening suspicions of free riding, and make establishing relations more difficult. India’s willingness to enter relations with countries on opposing sides to other partnered countries could create a wedge between some of India’s other relations. For example, India engaging with Russia has created distance in US-India relations, and benefitted China. This applies to a broader scope, where India’s multi-alignment strategy has strengthened partnerships with opposing sides of a conflict. With the initial US-Israeli strikes on Iran and the sinking of the IRIS Dena, India remained silent, while having positioned itself as a (benign) net security provider. Hence, India received criticism regarding its role as security provider, exposing the gap that India lacks a concrete strategy for managing hard power, especially when a partner acts against regional interests. Multi-alignment should, in theory, assist India in leveraging ties with all sides to reduce tensions. However, India has found itself in a more awkward position, where it also failed to utilise its chairmanship in the Indian Ocean Rim Association (IORA) to convene littoral states and establish a strong regional position. Instead, the strategic hedging worked rather in national interest, by furthering bilateral relations with the US and Israel, and in one instance, ensuring safe passage for Indian-flagged vessels.

In addition, regardless of the long-standing relations with island nations, the islands’ perception of India was tainted. Their belief is that India initially ignored them, thereafter overstretching its cultural and historical ties. India failed to address the islands’ issues as they perceived them, resulting in New Delhi’s initiatives being perceived as one-sided and out of their own interest. Thus, balancing relations with the West and China offers its own set of challenges. How can you trust a country to serve as a net security provider, when it is also aligned with the countries you want to be protected from?

While China steps in with a more aggressive expansion in the regions, India’s direct priority and primary focus remains on the Indian Ocean region, as New Delhi seeks to establish its own regional partnerships through maritime cooperation, capacity-building, infrastructure projects, development assistance and multilateral security. Under MAHASAGAR, the AIKEYME (Africa-India Key Maritime Engagement), Indian Ocean Ship (IOS) SAGAR (a programme to elaborate India’s maritime cooperation efforts and vision), and the Colombo Security Conclave (a minilateral maritime-security grouping of Indian Ocean littoral states), New Delhi attempts to position itself as the net security provider, and development partner while strategically restricting China’s space to manoeuvre. Additionally, Sino-Indian rivalry has invited China’s other neighbours, which share equal tensions with Beijing, into a comprehensive partnership with India. Japan, a neighbour of China, hopes to work with India, for example through Quadrilateral Security Dialogue (QUAD), which includes Australia, Japan, the US and India, to challenge China’s growing influence in crucial regions.

“Where oceans serve as the world’s only open, shared realm, free access to these oceans is essential for establishing internal prosperity, external relations and resilient strategic dependencies.” - Rajeev Lachmipersad

Crucial, but external, relationships for India, are partners like France and Japan. The shared visions, goals and security interest allow for a strong partnership, with indispensable roles in their respective regions. Japan and India’s cooperation under the ‘Joint Declaration on Security Cooperation’, aims to increase each other’s defensive capabilities and readiness, by promoting interoperability and synergy between defense forces. Their relationship formed naturally with Japan increasingly becoming important when it comes to answering China’s growing presence in the regions, and closing the gap between Beijing’s and India’s military and economic capabilities. France has presence in the region through its overseas territories, and shares similar aims with India by seeking to secure the IOR (particularly the western Indian Ocean). France mainly wishes to focus on areas covering major geostrategic issues, such as SLOCs, exposure to effects of climate change, criminal networks and diminishing influence of competitors. Hence France and India benefit from closer relations, due to their significant military strength and shared interests, further evening-out the asymmetric capabilities of China and India. Along with close ties to France, India has entered more recent, close relations with the European Union (EU).

“India is participating with the EU, and with their EU NAVFOR ATLANTA and Aspides operations, but increasingly looking to do more in terms of Naval exercises, not just with the EU, but the individual countries in the EU, such as Germany, France, including with Italy, where they’re working very well now, in the in the shared Maritime neighborhood of the Mediterranean” - Dr. Dattesh D. Prabhu-Parulekar

While the statement ‘race for relationships’ holds truth, it is not a vigorous battle. Neither China nor India is simply competing to ‘win’ a country, because many littoral states practice hedging between the two. For example, Mauritius practices ‘asymmetrical hedging’, leaning towards India for security while engaging with China for the economic factor; whereas Seychelles practices a more ‘symmetrical hedging’ strategy between China and India.

India’s collaboration spans across the IOR, with key relations with Sri Lanka, the Maldives, East African states, Oman and Indonesia. While the relations with the littoral states are necessary, some are crucial. Sri Lanka for example, is positioned directly south of India, with a major SLOC. Moreover, China has shown significant (economic) interest, funding infrastructure projects, including the Hambantota port and Colombo related projects. Sri Lanka follows a similar practice to other littoral states, accepting India while enacting its security role and turning to China for economic benefit. Maldives is of similar importance, with high-competition. Located in the central Indian Ocean, near the Lakshadweep and the major SLOC, the Nine-Degree Channel, Maldives signed a 2024 military-assistance agreement with China, while relations with India worsened. However, Maldives and India re-entered ‘safer waters’, bettering their relations and signing a Comprehensive Economic and Maritime Security Partnership agreement, resulting in defense equipment, radar surveillance support, the Ekatha harbour project at Uthuru Thila Falhu (UTF) and continued bilateral maritime training and exercises.

The previously mentioned Mauritius and Seychelles also have importance, as Indian influence there would provide India with stronger reach toward the southwest IOR, and specifically the Mozambique Channel. India provides Mauritius with (maritime) development assistance, effectively offering economic cooperation critical to Mauritius.

“India is one country that has argued that small island developing states must not see themselves as small developing states, but as large ocean states. India believes their perception of themselves should not be in terms of their physical features, but in terms of the maritime expanse that comes under their jurisdiction.” - Dr. Dattesh D. Prabhu-Parulekar

As for the east-African littoral states, Beijing’s Belt and Road Initiative entrenched itself. This has led Indian action to attempt to improve strategic influence in the region, with its opportunity to build relationships with the region’s Western partners. India wishes to present itself as a counterweight to China, effectively offering an alternative. India’s normative power and supporting role aim to avoid significant ecological consequences, debt-trap diplomacy, and focus on long-term development.

India’s Asymmetric Answer

To conclude, India can grow its capacity to help secure the Indian Ocean Region, but it cannot do so by attempting to mirror China’s growth in military or economic aspects. Instead, New Delhi’s strongest option lies in converting its geopolitical and geographical position at the heart of the IOR into strategic capacity, leveraging its ‘diamonds’ to secure the region. The development of the Great Nicobar Island and Lakshadweep, stronger maritime-domain awareness, greater naval reach through increased domestic spending and improved external relations with littoral states, and the geographical position along crucial SLOCs and chokepoints allow India to exploit its advantages. India’s influence and backyard provide it leverage while China, as an extra-regional power, must spend substantially more capital and resources to entrench itself in a similar role.

Infrastructure itself does not provide a country with influence, China’s growth of network, projects and ports has not demonstrated power-projection. Instead, partnerships and relationships have demonstrated that influence on the IOR depends on it as much as military capability, allowing even extra-regional actors to exert significant pressure and have a dominant presence in the region. India must therefore accelerate its physical maritime expansion with naval augmentation, development assistance, multi-lateral exercises, regional capacity-building, and deeper, comprehensive cooperation with littoral states under its MAHASAGAR vision. Driven by the strategic hedging approach among littoral states in the IOR, India’s challenge becomes to make itself the more dependable security and development partner, rather than ‘the easier option’ or ‘merely geographically closer’.

India’s success ultimately depends on its ability to balance, overcoming historical backdrops in maritime development while preventing overextension. China’s presence does not replace India, nor does it remove India’s geographical advantages; instead Beijing serves as an alternative with its improved logistical access, regional familiarity and political influence.

Dominating the IOR should therefore not be India’s goal, remaining its central security actor does not require regional dominance. India needs to fight asymmetry with asymmetry, strengthen its islands, secure vulnerable sea lanes, expand regional partnership and use valuable external partners such as France and Japan to compensate for the capability gap. India has the opportunity to make its geography, historical- and new partnerships and regional credibility more strategically valuable than China’s extensive financial reach. Hence, because China’s budget and scale put it in a weight class above India’s, India must turn to strategic partnership, or punch above its weight.

• The Digital Silk Road has evolved into a separate pillar of China’s foreign policy, driven by the Chinese private tech giants.

• The import of Chinese technologies poses serious risks, including surveillance, data transfer, digital dependency and authoritarian cyber norms.

• Despite DSR investments and projects being widespread in the region, they have not yet determined the future of Southeast Asia’s alignment.

Although in recent years the term Digital Silk Road (DSR) has faded from Chinese media due to Western backlash and the vagueness of the term, the Chinese government’s drive to export its digital technologies worldwide has not waned. Instead of pushing catchy slogans, Beijing has increasingly focused on concrete, specialized tech products and targeted investments in developing countries, carrying forward its political agenda in opposition to the Western tech bloc. As a consequence, the shift in public discourse surrounding the DSR invites a deeper analysis of the core goals of China’s digital strategy, the variety of its technologies, the flip side of deploying Chinese tech products and the response of Southeast Asian countries.

Unpacking the Digital Silk Road

The DSR was launched in 2015 as a digital side initiative to the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI). In 2017, it was established as a distinct pillar by Xi Jinping. Unlike the physical infrastructure focus of the BRI, the DSR is China’s strategy in expanding its tech influence by exporting its digital infrastructure. Whereas the BRI has relied on state-owned enterprises (SOEs), the DSR is carried out by China’s private tech giants such as Huawei, ZTE, Alibaba, and Tencent, under government incentives and directives.

Dr. Jeroen Groenewegen-Lau, senior analyst of the Science, Technology and Innovation Program at MERICS, explained that among these companies, Huawei is more of “a national champion that needed to get closer to the government, operating as a quasi-SOE.” Conversely, the other tech giants, although they “have independent agency, agenda and interests,” they “don’t have full control over their own decisions,” fueling “antagonism” with Beijing, which views competition as a “political matter.”

Indeed, this initiative not only consists of building digital infrastructure, but also exporting Chinese cyber norms to shape the international framework of technical standards, also known as the “China Solution.” As Dr. Ilaria Carrozza, China tech and security expert at the Peace Research Institute Oslo (PRIO), pointed out: “the DSR has three main objectives. The first is to strengthen Chinese firms’ market position in a region that is young, rapidly digitalising, and short of infrastructure capital. The second is standards influence: getting Chinese technical proposals into the systems that will be running in the future. The third is normative, building a constituency for a state-centric vision of digital order built around cyber sovereignty and development-first framing.”

Artificial intelligence is the perfect example of this normative shift. When we think of the power of AI, we tend to think of its performance. However, at a geopolitical level, the power of AI lies within its infrastructure, including data centres and chips, as well as its governance frameworks and tech standards, which guarantee strategic control of data collection and management. China has been using the export of physical AI infrastructure to establish its own AI regulations, governance and standards against the Western norms based on democracy and human rights, striving to achieve a world that reflects China’s authoritarian domestic policy focused on social order and national sovereignty. At the same time, since the Trump administration, China has increasingly been pushing its institutional strategy through UN resolutions and global institutions, taking advantage of Washington’s focus on domestic and commercial AI innovation over AI governance.

Risks Behind Chinese Technologies

Dr. Carrozza illustrated the different layers within the DSR, pointing out how, “at the base there is physical connectivity” (terrestrial fibre, subsea cables and BeiDou satellite positioning), then “network equipment” (5G networks), “data centres and cloud services,” “applications” (e-commerce, e-government and safe city packages), and “knowledge-building component” (training programmes, capacity-building workshops, memoranda on public security cooperation, and long-term service agreements), which aims at building “long-term relationships with host countries and socialize them into Chinese standards and practices.”

The competitiveness of Chinese technology is based on its quality-price ratio, allowing many countries to afford cutting-edge products to boost their national economies, providing the whole digital stack unlike pricier and fragmented Western options. However, “some significant risks include concentration risk and vendor dependency for upgrades and maintenance. Opaque procurement, (...) weak enforcement of data protection rules, (...) capability transfer to domestic security agencies that lowers the cost of surveillance, (...) data localization and data storage when this is provided by companies which host servers in China, as there exist concerns that people’s personal data or sensitive information could be siphoned online from the host country to China without their consent.” Dr. Carrozza specified.

According to Dr. Frans-Paul van der Putten, a China geopolitical analyst and senior research associate at the Clingendael Institute, the risks of Chinese technologies do not stem from the technology itself but from its political environment. As he stated, “from a Western point of view, surveillance used in a democratic society means more effective security. That’s generally regarded as something positive, whereas if you put it in an authoritarian political context, it flips around and then it’s seen as something negative, that it enhances the capabilities of repressive governments to suppress individual freedoms and human rights.”

China’s Digital Ambitions in Southeast Asia and the Regional Response

Southeast Asia constitutes a critical arena for China’s BRI and DSR, driven by geopolitical and strategic interests. Beyond Xi Jinping’s designation of the region as the starting point of the Maritime Silk Road in 2013, Southeast Asia’s proximity to China favours economic cooperation. Moreover, the region’s developing market creates crucial opportunities for investment, infrastructure expansion and tech projects. Lastly, as the region lies at the centre of the US “Pivot to Asia” and China containment strategy, Beijing seeks to counter the destabilizing impact of American tariffs and technological restrictions by strengthening its influence across Southeast Asia. China’s strategic projects in the region include 5G infrastructure in Thailand and industrial manufacturing nodes in Malaysia to strengthen and secure its semiconductors supply chain autonomy against the US “anti-China industry alliances.”

Despite China’s appeal in tech low costs, Southeast Asia has overall been resisting China’s pressure by balancing affordable tech infrastructure with compliance with Western standards, thus pursuing the so-called middle path. ASEAN has active agency in protecting its security and economic interests: In addition to the alarm of sensitive data being handed to the Chinese government after China’s crackdown on its own tech companies, the US export restrictions on China and the polarization of semiconductors supply chains, have made ASEAN countries more cautious in navigating the heated competition between the two superpowers. As Dr. Carrozza perfectly concluded, “states in SEA are assembling regulatory architectures from competing sources, taking European data protection templates, American security requirements, and Chinese infrastructure simultaneously, so China’s path from the provision of digital infrastructure to normative influence is not necessarily a straightforward one.”

Conclusion

The DSR has become increasingly essential in China’s geopolitical strategy, evolving from a BRI sub-initiative to a cornerstone of China’s foreign policy. Although digital infrastructure is less tangible than physical one, its power is not to be overlooked, risking becoming a tool for surveillance, authoritarian norm-setting, and sensitive data collection and transfer, and long-term tech dependency. Driven by a rise in awareness over the long term risks of deploying Chinese technologies, developing regions such as Southeast Asia have been increasingly balancing the benefits of DSR offers with their own national security interests. While on one side it is true that Chinese digital infrastructure is cheaper, on the other it comes at a greater cost.

In short

• As Argentina confronts economic challenges and political pressure, the renewed focus of the Falkland Islands/Islas Malvinas dispute brings up the question whether the claim is a political distraction.

• The development of the Sea Lion oil project has increased the economic stakes by linking sovereignty over the Falkland Islands to offshore resources, foreign investment, and control over the South Atlantic.

• From the 1982 Falklands/Malvinas war to a World Cup banner and uncertainty in the US’s position, the dispute shows how national identity and geopolitics continue to determine relations between Argentina and the UK.

The Falklands/Malvinas Dispute Returns

More than forty years after the 1982 war, the Falklands/Malvinas dispute between the United Kingdom and Argentina has reopened. While the United Kingdom has sovereignty over them as a British Overseas Territory, Argentina insists on claiming the archipelago. “For Argentina, Las Malvinas are integral to their national identity”, commented Falkland expert Dr. Louise Clare from the University of Manchester. Multiple developments have brought the conflict back in the headlines: planned oil drilling north of the islands, Argentina’s domestic economic downturn and political situation, Trump’s unclear position, and a “Las Malvinas son Argentinas” banner at the World Cup. The sovereignty of the islands is no longer just about ownership, but national identity, control over natural resources, influence in the South Atlantic, and the islanders’ self-determination are also at stake. This raises the question of how domestic politics, the Sea Lion oil project, and changing international positions are shaping the Falklands/Malvinas dispute?

The archipelago is referred to as the Falkland Islands by the United Kingdom and as Las Islas Malvinas by Argentina; both names will be used in this article to reflect different languages and perspectives.

Centuries of Contestation

The history of the conflict goes back to 1765, when the archipelago was claimed by the British. In October 1832, the Argentine military established a base and attempted to claim sovereignty over the islands. Three months later, in January 1833, the British Royal Navy took back control and expelled the Argentine garrison, while most of the small civilian population was allowed to stay on the islands. On April 2 1982, the Argentine military once again invaded the islands, initiating the Falklands War. The war ended after 74 days, but the dispute did not. The islands are still claimed by Argentina as its territory, but the United Kingdom maintains the Falklands are British and that the wishes of the islanders must be respected. As a result, the two countries continue to disagree on the legal territorial status, as well as the islander’s right to self-determination.

Two Competing Perspectives

The Falkland Islands represent two different perspectives on opposite sides of the South Atlantic. In the United Kingdom, the islands are closely associated with the islanders’ right to decide their own future and the historical memory of the Falklands war, as 255 British personnel died defending the islands during the war, making it almost impossible to give up the islands. In Argentina, the importance of the dispute is rooted in the way the Islas Malvinas are presented, as the islands are integral to their national identity. From school age, Argentines are taught that “in 1833, ‘English pirates’ stole the Islands from Argentina”, Dr. Clare commented on the topic. Because of this narrative, la causa Malvinas, which is Argentina’s national campaign to regain control over the Malvinas, has turned the dispute from the legal and diplomatic argument between governments, to an emotional, national issue shared by almost all Argentines. Because of this, the Argentine government could not abandon its position.

In an official statement on X about the islands, President Milei describes taking back sovereignty over the islands as “a permanent and inalienable objective of the Argentine people”. Furthermore, he called the Malvinas “a national cause” and that the islands “do not belong to a government” in his statement, as well as argue that Argentina has to use all available diplomatic and legal tools to “defend our sovereignty and our resources”.

On the other hand, Britain rejects this interpretation and argues that “the islanders’ wishes are paramount”, as stated by then-Prime Minister (PM) Margaret Thatcher, which current PM Andy Burnham backs, as he commented that “we will defend the right of the Falkland Islanders to self-determination”. This principle remains the current British position, arguing that the islanders have repeatedly expressed their wish to remain a British Overseas Territory. This can also be seen in the results of the 2013 referendum, in which 99.8 per cent of the votes favoured staying a British Overseas Territory, and only three people voted against. These results indicated a very strong preference from the islanders. However, Argentina does not accept the referendum and still claims the islands as its territory. In a recent speech, President Milei describes the islanders as an “implanted population”, arguing that they “do not have a legitimate right to self-determination”. By calling the inhabitants of the islands an “implanted population”, President Milei dismisses their personal political preference to stay a British Overseas Territory, as well as challenging the UK’s principle on the topic: the islanders’ right to determine their own future.

The two countries are not just disagreeing on the sovereignty of the islands; they have different understandings of the dispute from shifting perspectives based on history, legitimacy, and political rights. Argentina prioritizes territorial sovereignty and historical continuity, in contrast to the UK’s focus on self-determination and legal claims.

Argentina’s Economic Downturn and Political Distraction

Another factor in the dispute is Argentina’s current economic uncertainty. The government points to falling inflation and a budget surplus. However, Argentina correspondent Peter Schouten, who frequently writes for AD, one of the Netherlands’ largest newspapers, argues that “many Argentines have not felt economic improvements”. Argentina is currently one of the most expensive countries in Latin America, even though wages are among the lowest in the region and purchasing power is very low, with poverty rates remaining high.

The Malvinas issue allows President Milei to redirect attention from Argentina’s domestic economic problems. There is a need for this, as the polls indicate that in September 2026, the government’s approval rate was 42 per cent, while 52 per cent had a negative image of Milei. With the next presidential election set for October 2027, a tougher position on the islands could turn the political tide in favour of Milei. President Milei is seemingly using an existing international dispute to shift attention from Argentina’s domestic problems, while also turning it into a strategy to show political strength. By redirecting attention to this international dispute, both the country’s economic issues and the upcoming presidential election work in President Milei’s favour.

In addition, this is not the first time that Argentina’s domestic crises have been connected to a renewed focus on the Malvinas. The 1982 Argentine invasion is often linked to the diversionary-ploy theory, which implies that the military junta used the sovereign claim to distract the country from its economic and political problems. Although this theory does not explain the entire conflict, there may be a political parallel today, in which Milei uses the Malvinas situation to mobilise national support for domestic uncertainties, without a physical invasion.

How Oil Fuels the Dispute

The Sea Lion project, developed by the British company Rockhopper Exploration and the Israeli company Navitas Petroleum, is located in waters 220 km north of the Falkland Islands. The project is already well advanced, as drilling is planned to start in early 2026, with the first oil expected in March 2028. The oil field falls within the area Argentina claims, causing the Sea Lion field to be considered part of the Argentine continental territory. Under Argentine law, extracting natural resources without authorisation is illegal. However, from the Falkland Islands and UK’s perspective, the project does not need authorisation from Argentina. The UK has administered the islands, and the Falkland Islands Government has granted petroleum licenses to the companies involved in the project. Both sides therefore claim the authority of the oil field.

President Milei’s response to the Sea Lion project shows how the Malvinas issue can be turned into visible political action. He recently declared in a speech to sanction the oil companies working on the Sea Lion project that are drilling in the waters above the Malvinas. By scrutinising the companies behind the oil-drilling project, Milei presents himself as defending both Argentina’s sovereignty of the islands, and the natural resources it provides.

The oil-drilling project could also represent a loss of economic opportunity for Argentina: if developed under British control, the project generates revenue for the Falkland Islands Government and the other companies involved, while Argentina would not reap any financial benefit. Given the economic conditions in Argentina, the situation is relevant to the country. As Mr. Schouten commented, “the golden mountains in Argentina are often behind us, rather than ahead of us”. The potential oil revenues may make the Malvinas issue more attractive from a political perspective, even though President Milei presents its position as a defence of sovereignty and national resources.

From Football to Washington

Moving on from official statements and oil licences, the dispute has now become visible far outside politics. During the 2026 World Cup, Argentine players displayed a banner reading “Las Malvinas son Argentinas”, which translates to “The Malvinas are Argentine”, after defeating England in the semi-final. According to Mr. Schouten, this banner is “a strong political statement”, explaining that the text is visible throughout Buenos Aires on t-shirts and paintings. The slogan already had a strong meaning in Argentine public life, but the match made it an international statement.

Additionally, the United States has added another source of uncertainty. President Trump has stated that Washington “always reviews every position”, which Argentina could interpret as a possible opening for its claim. Dr. Clare notes that “there is definitely potential for Argentina to see this statement as an indirect nod of US support for Argentina”. On the other hand, Mr. Schouten suggested that Trump’s comments were “meant to put pressure on Great Britain” over defence spending. For now, Washington’s position remains neutral and unclear: Trump has merely suggested that it is “under review”, but he has neither endorsed Argentina’s claims nor announced a formal change in the United States’ neutral position.

The European Dimension

The dispute also has consequences for Europe. Besides oil, the waters near the Falklands are rich in fish, making the dispute over natural resources relevant in Europe as well. Around 94 per cent of all Falklands fish exports, mainly squid, and almost 50 per cent of calamari in southern Europe are from the waters near the islands, enter the EU through the Spanish port of Vigo. In 2024, the EU imported 76,600 tonnes of fish from the islands, with a worth of around €250 million.

The trade relationship has changed after Brexit; the Falklands lost tariff-free access to the EU market, as well as EU development funding. Since 2021, the EU and the Falklands have re-negotiated a 75,000 tonnes tariff-free deal for industrial processing in the EU. The islands heavily rely on European trade, giving the EU “quite some leverage in this dispute due to its fish trade ties with the Falklands, but is reluctant to exercise this,” comments Senior Analyst, Michel Don Michaloliákos for The Hague Institute for Geopolitics on the topic.

The reluctance is an intentional choice, as “the EU keeps out of the dispute as much as possible, and tries to avoid choosing a side and escalating,” Michaloliákos explains. Brexit also changed the EU’s position, as it no longer has a solidarity-obligation, now that the UK is no longer an EU member state.

At the same time, the EU has economic interests on the other side of the dispute. Argentina is now an official trade partner of the European Union under the EU-Mercosur deal. In January 2026, this large trade agreement between the EU and the South American trading bloc, including Argentina, was finally signed after more than 25 years of negotiating. In May 2026, the deal was applied and is currently in use. This gives the EU a good reason to stay neutral in the dispute, as it has economic interests on both sides.

However, this neutrality has its limits: “In the very unlikely situation of a full escalation, it (the EU) would side with international law, and against illegitimate claims of Argentina,” Michaloliákos suggests.

The Stalemate Continues

The renewed attention to the Falkland Islands/Islas Malvinas demonstrates that the dispute is more than a legacy of the 1982 war. It remains an unsolved territorial conflict, shaped by domestic political pressures, national identity, international influence, and economic interests. For Argentina, the islands are widely experienced as territory taken from the country, and have an “implanted population”, placed under British control. For the United Kingdom, the central principle is the Falkland Islanders’ right to self-determination, reinforced by the historical memory of the war, as well as the wish to remain a British Overseas Territory.

Argentina’s current economic and political circumstances provide an important context for President Milei’s renewed focus on the dispute. Economic difficulties make the sovereignty issue politically useful, a pattern that can be compared with the invasion from more than 40 years ago. Yet, it would be too simple to describe the issue as just a political attention shift. The World Cup banner declaring “Las Malvinas son Argentinas” showed that the conflict moved beyond diplomacy and became internationally visible through football.

The Sea Lion oil project made the dispute concrete: it adds potential oil revenues and control over the South Atlantic resources. While Argentina threatens to target the companies involved, and the UK and Falkland Islands Government providing licenses, underline the confidence in their legal positions.

The most probable outcome is not a shift in sovereignty, but more of an internationalised and economically charged draw. While Argentina can intensify pressure, its leverage is restricted to the British control of the islands. Currently, their future depends on if the Sea Lion project will proceed as planned, how Argentina’s domestic situation develops, and whether the US will shift its position on the conflict. Meanwhile, Europe is likely to stay on the sidelines, only taking sides if the conflict fully escalated.

For now, the status quo will most likely be maintained, but if the dispute over the Sea Lion project escalates, the consequences would reach beyond the UK and Argentina to the islanders and European businesses.

Introduction

When Saudi forces struck Sanaa airport on 13 July to prevent an Iranian flight from landing in Yemen, few expected that within two months the pro-Iranian Ansarullah Movement (aka the Houthis) would sweep to the western coastline and the Bab al-Mandeb Strait, that the Saudi-backed, internationally recognized government coalition — or Presidential Leadership Council (hereafter PLC) — would collapse, and that Saudi oil exports would fully stop due to Houthi missile and UAV strikes.”

From Crisis to Full-Scale War: Timeline of the Escalation

• 3 July — An Iranian flight carries an Ansarullah delegation to Tehran for Ayatollah Khamenei’s funeral, the first direct Sanaa–Tehran flight since 2015. Riyadh faces two options: accept the Ansarullah demand for its delegation’s return flight to land in Sanaa and preserve the 2022 truce (a de facto capitulation) or reject it and risk renewed conflict. It chooses confrontation.

• 13 July — The Saudi air force bombs the air corridor over Sanaa airport to block the delegation’s return flight; the aircraft ultimately lands at Hudaydah instead. Ansarullah forces retaliate the same day, striking Saudi Arabia’s Abha International Airport.

• 20 July — Following strikes on the Jazan refinery, Ansarullah declares an air and naval blockade on Saudi Arabia, to remain until Riyadh lifts its own decade-long blockade of Ansarullah-controlled territory.

• 30 July — Abdelmalek al-Houthi declares that “the indicators show that Saudi Arabia is moving toward a full-scale escalation,” adding, “we will seek God’s help against them.” The Ansarullah Movement launches wide-scale mobilization and attacks on enemy concentrations, including around Mocha port.

• 14 August — Russia’s UN Security Council representative rejects calls for “maximum pressure” on the Houthis, instead urging the lifting of the Saudi blockade and political recognition of the Ansarullah Movement as a major party to any settlement — a development Ansarullah reads as a diplomatic win.

• 3 September — The offensive proper opens with a major push in Maqbanah, western Taiz, after weeks of mobilization.

• 6–7 September — Yemeni government forces counterattack across al-Jawf, Marib, Taiz, al-Bayda, Hajjah, al-Dhalea, and al-Hodeidah, aiming to force an Ansarullah redeployment from the coast to the north. PLC units make temporary gains in al-Jawf, briefly suggesting a shifting balance, but this proves illusory.

• 9–11 September — Ansarullah forces launch their main offensive along the west coast, seizing Al-Mokha, Jabal Zuqar, the Greater and Lesser Hanish Islands, Dhubab city, and Mayun Island — setting foot on the shores of Bab al-Mandeb.

• 12 September — Allied Iraqi Shia militias strike the Saudi East–West “Yanbu” pipeline, forcing Riyadh to shut down a line carrying 4–5% of global oil supply.

Deconstructing the “Blitzkrieg” and Its Outcomes

As the dust settles, three questions dominate: why did Saudi-backed PLC forces collapse so quickly? Why did the Houthis escalate now? And what comes next?

Ansarullah Victory, or Structural Failure in the Saudi-Backed Government Camp?

Before the war, several indicators pointed to a stronger performance by PLC forces. The expulsion of Emirati forces from Yemen in January 2026, and Riyadh’s consequent political consolidation over non-Ansarullah-controlled territories, appeared to strengthen unity among the political factions within the fragmented government camp. Rising interception rates of arms shipments destined for Ansarullah forces suggested improved coordination among factions of the PLC coalition. Saudi money and equipment — drones especially— flowed to government forces, signaling firmer Saudi resolve. Diplomatically, the nascent Mecca Pact with Pakistan and Turkey boosted Riyadh’s regional standing and raised prospects of further military backing.

Yet the fall of Al-Mokha and Bab al-Mandeb within a single week proved these preparations were castles built on sand. Why did the PLC camp perform so poorly despite material abundance and numerical and air superiority?

Houthi Tactical and Operational Performance

Ansarullah forces opened shaping operations between 9 August and 3 September, targeting Hadramawt, Marib, Taiz, and Hodeida governorates, and systematically bombing Al-Mokha port, enemy command structures, arms depots, bases, unit commanders, and civilian facilities with over 100 missiles and 60 drones — forcing dispersal while masking their true objective: the advance on Al-Mokha and Bab al-Mandeb.

During this phase, Ansarullah forces concentrated at the coming offensive’s frontlines: regional troops, elite units, artillery, and drone and missile forces, totalling roughly 14 brigades and 10,000–12,000 troops. According to Yemen specialist Ibrahim Jalal, command was shared among Ansarullah, Iranian, and Hezbollah officers. In particular, IRGC-Quds Force commanders Abdul Reza Shahlai and Ali Mohammad Rezai played a vital role. Reports indicate that over 400 IRGC personnel were embedded in the expeditionary force in tactical and operational roles. The C2 structure was effective and the units operations well coordinated.

On 3 September, Ansarullah units, infiltrated on small groups along the al-Kadha–al-Barh–Maqbana axis, exploiting small gaps in enemy lines. Backed by drone, missile, and artillery fire, they severed the Taiz–Mokha supply road, while drone units targeted hostile artillery crews to strip pro-PLC infantry of fire support. Fierce, close quarter battles in extremely treacherous terrain were among the main features of the conflict.

Another decisive factor was the proximity of PLC command infrastructure to the front: the Joint Operations Center in Jabal al-Nar, just 18 km from the front line, had no alternative post or withdrawal plan — a fatal mistake. Its capture by Ansarullah infiltrating forces collapsed C2 across the fighting brigades, triggering panic and a disorganized, if not chaotic, retreat that let Ansarullah troops seize intact vehicles, arms stockpiles, and various equipment at Al-Mokha on 10 September, and at the Bab al-Mandeb Strait the following day.

Furthermore, another decisive factor was Ansarullah’s successful information-war campaign. Using AI, Ansarullah forces fabricated a convincing false retreat order from Al-Mokha, dated 9 September and attributed to Tareq Saleh, commander of the National Resistance Forces (NRF), the main PLC military formation on the western coastline front. Spread via radio, WhatsApp, and SMS, it sowed panic: NRF units withdrew without informing neighboring Southern Giant Brigades units or local resistance forces, which were left exposed and forced to retreat as well. It was a major communications-security failure with devastating results.

Yemeni Government coalition cohesion was itself weak. The PLC military coalition consisted of different military formations, such as the National Resistance Forces (NRF), the Giants Brigades, National Shield Forces, Tihama formations, Taiz Axis units, and the formal military regional commands. These formations had been operating separately for years and were far from constituting a unified, functional military force. Moreover, they had different political backgrounds, including southern separatists, supporters of former president Ali Abdullah Saleh, Islah (Muslim Brotherhood), and Salafis. The divisions and the differing, if not contradicting, political aims among them were strong. For example, the southern separatists harbored strong grievances against Tareq Saleh — nephew of the former president and commander of the NRF forces. Memories of the 1994 civil war and the marginalization of the South by the North were still fresh.

Moreover, units like the NRF remained under Emirati C2 and intelligence structures until January 2026; the transition to a Saudi-led command structure was incomplete, leaving overlapping loyalties among field commanders and reports of commanders being abroad when the attack began. Saudi air support also lapsed during the critical 3–10 September window, suspended after Ansarullah strikes on Saudi oil facilities — effectively neutralizing Saudi air power at the decisive moment. The lack of air support can also be explained as a Saudi attempt to avoid repeating the mistake of the direct intervention of 2015, which provided Ansarullah with the effective narrative of national resistance and defenders of sovereignty. In addition, the PLC forces multi-front counteroffensives of 6–7 September were repelled without diverting enemy forces north. This failure was mainly the result of a lack of coordination among the different PLC military formations. It also reflected lessons the Houthis drew from the 2025 US airstrikes, after which Ansarullah’s regional military commands adopted a more decentralized, autonomous battle order.

Why Now?

Three factors explain the timing.

Socioeconomic Hardship

The gravest threat to the Ansarullah Movement’s political survival was never military but economic. The Saudi-imposed air and naval blockade since 2015, compounded by war damage, has devastated the economy across Ansarullah-controlled territory — home to roughly two-thirds of Yemen’s population — producing a food crisis and fueling corruption and social unrest. Ansarullah’s leadership recognized this. On 20 September 2023, Abdelmalik al-Houthi publicly acknowledged state failures in addressing socioeconomic hardship and corruption within the movement, pledging reform. A collapsing economy also strains the budget needed to sustain a large military, security, and bureaucratic apparatus — the same combination of hardship and overreach that brought down Yemen’s republican regime in 2011.

Ansarullah’s leadership moved beyond rhetoric. Since February 2026, they have demanded salary payments from Saudi Arabia totalling $13.08 billion. The de facto Ansarullah government’s PM, Mohammed Ahmed Muftah, called for “fulfilling the commitments of the truce, ending the aggression, lifting the blockade, and releasing salaries as a basic right,“ while warning that Ansarullah’s forces were “fully prepared to confront any escalation.” In March 2026, marking the 11th anniversary of the Saudi-led intervention, Abdelmalek al-Houthi catalogued the war’s economic damage and demanded $57 billion in reparations — an issue Ansarullah resolved to press once the Gaza ceasefire took hold.

Saudi Power Consolidation

Following the Saudi-Emirati military standoff in Yemen in December 2025 and the Emirati expulsion in January 2026, Riyadh gained firmer political control over Yemen’s non-Ansarullah territory and — being more determined than Abu Dhabi had been to deter Ansarullah — moved to unify the fragmented PLC coalition militarily and politically. This alarmed Ansarullah’s leadership, which sought to prevent the effective consolidation of a more capable, unified opponent backed by abundant Saudi resources. The erosion of Ansarullah’s drone monopoly and the increase in interceptions of Iranian arms shipments signaled a power balance tilting toward the newly unified Saudi-led PLC coalition — a shift that would have strengthened Saudi legitimacy in Yemen. Ansarullah moved to deny Riyadh the time needed to consolidate. According to Yemen expert Elisabeth Kendall, the Houthi territorial gains are shifting the balance of power in their favour, while weakening the position and legitimacy of both Saudi Arabia and the PLC coalition in Yemen.

The Iranian Factor

The third, perhaps catalytic, factor is the ongoing Iran-US regional war. Ansarullah largely stood by during its opening months, but this shifted after the June truce. In his first public appearance on Iranian television on 15 June, Qaani declared: “From the Strait of Hormuz to Bab al-Mandab and from the Persian Gulf to the Red Sea, there will be a new security belt of resistance.“ The message was unmistakable — Tehran was prepared to weaponize two of the world’s most critical chokepoints for hydrocarbon trade.

Ansarullah, who see themselves as strategic partners rather than proxies within the Axis of Resistance — especially since Hezbollah’s degradation — judged the benefits of military engagement to outweigh the costs. Beyond the weakening Saudi grip and Ansarullah’s strengthening negotiating position, the stakes were higher still: controlling the west-coast ports and the Bab al-Mandeb Strait would effectively break the naval blockade, restoring and potentially expanding the arms-supply line from Tehran, while dramatically boosting Ansarullah’s prestige and power projection at home, regionally, and globally.

What Next for the Houthis?

Having secured the west coast, Ansarullah forces appear set to target Marib and Taiz. Marib — the last government-coalition-held northern governorate and home to Yemen’s largest oil and gas fields — would hand Ansarullah significant economic resources and a stronger hand in any future settlement. Its loss would be a devastating political and psychological blow to the PLC camp on top of Al-Mokha and Bab al-Mandeb, while sharply boosting the Ansarullah Movement’s legitimacy among Yemenis.

Taiz matters both geographically and politically. It bridges the northern governorates and the southern coastline, and its capture would sever the strategic road network linking Taiz and al-Turbah to Aden — the PLC capital — cutting supply routes between the interior and the port city. Taiz has also stood since 2014 as a symbolic center of resistance to Ansarullah; its fall would deal another severe blow to both the morale and the political survival of the Saudi-backed PLC coalition.

Conclusion

Yemen’s recent conflict is still ongoing and fluid, with its ebbs and flows, and the final outcome remains unclear. Yet some conclusions can be drawn. Ansarullah is no longer a ragtag militia or rebel force — perhaps it was until 2009 — but rather a formidable, battle-hardened movement with a cohesive C2 structure and an effective military at the tactical, operational, and strategic levels: a hybrid army capable of conducting both irregular warfare and large-scale conventional operations with great efficiency. Moreover, it is very adaptive and a fast learner of new technological developments, such as Anthropic AI for weapon design.

By contrast, its opponent-PLC coalition, despite abundant Saudi support, remain far from constituting a cohesive and effective military machine. Diverse political goals and backgrounds, as well as internal rivalries, undermine cohesion-building efforts.

Moreover, while Iranian support has been significant to Ansarullah’s success, the movement has shown it can survive politically and militarily without it. The pro-Saudi PLC coalition, by contrast, is struggling to survive even with Riyadh’s strong, multilevel support.

The main drivers of the current conflict were the socioeconomic hardships in the northern territories and the recent consolidation of Saudi power in Yemen. Ansarullah’s leadership regarded these two factors as vital threats that had to be decisively addressed. The US-Iran war served as the catalyst for the conflict’s eruption.

The Ansarullah Movement’s recent territorial gains on the western coast, if consolidated, will provide domestic, regional, and global power projection, legitimacy (including through unofficial US talks), and relief from Saudi pressure. Yet the conflict remains active and fluid, and realities of the ground can always shift again.

Saudi Arabia is in a very precarious position. It faces a choice between two different strategic defeats. Saudi Arabia is being forced to choose not between victory and defeat, but between empowering the Houthis — if it accepts their demands — and enduring an open-ended war of attrition.

The Ansarullah Movement cannot be coerced by military means alone. Any Western or international military intervention is likely to fail. Given the current deterioration of US regional political and military influence, such an intervention would only boost Ansarullah’s legitimacy and political power. A combination of existing coercive measures (blockade, economic sanctions, and the threat of military action) with incentives — such as political recognition, a key role in a political settlement, a gradual lifting of sanctions, and inclusion in the international system — could prove more effective. Moreover, Iran’s role is crucial and cannot be ignored, so Tehran must be included in any future political settlement.

In Summary

• Civil-military relations in Brazil are still marked by the legacy of military rule and a seeming inability to distinguish fully between military and civilian realms

• The 2022 attempt to prevent Lula from taking office highlighted divisions within the military and the continuing question of where the constitutional limits of military power lie

• Civil-military relations are a two-way issue: the military must respect its constitutional role, while civilian politicians must avoid relying on the Armed Forces for responsibilities that belong to civilian institutions

• In practice, this includes both the implementation of public policy and taking care not to confer on the military more political legitimacy than it should have by, for instance, acknowledging its political opinions regarding civilian matters

• Sovereignty has become central to Brazil’s 2026 election, with fundamentally different understandings of how the country should protect its territory, resources, strategic industries, and political autonomy

• Ultimately, the article argues that decisions about defence, military capabilities, funding, and the limits of military power must remain under civilian political authority and be taken after a maturing of the analysis of the civil-military relations guiding them

“War is a mere continuation of policy by other means.”
— Carl von Clausewitz

During his UN speech on September 22, the current Brazilian president Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva said, referring to the iconic Clausewitz quote, “War is not the continuation of politics by other means; it is the total failure of politics.” Both the original quote and Lula’s reference allude to the fact that the relationship between military force and political objectives contains nuances and power struggles between the institutions with the legitimate use of force and those responsible for setting its mandate and holding the leash that provides such legitimacy.

In Brazil, the upcoming presidential elections, around which there is the ever-present threat of U.S intervention, and the strategic priority of rare-earth minerals means that the issue of sovereignty has become a hot topic. And when speaking of safeguarding a nation’s sovereignty, the role of the military, as well as its limitations, is unescapable. However, from a Brazilian standpoint, this hasn’t ever been straightforward. In fact, Brazil has had a difficult relationship with its military from a democratic perspective.

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