Foreign Policy Blogs

French President Emmanuel Macron and German Chancellor Friedrich Merz at the joint press conference of the European Digital Sovereignty Summit, Berlin, November 18, 2025. (picture alliance / Andreas Gora)

In November 2025, the European Union crossed a decisive threshold in its effort to safeguard its digital backbone from strategic vulnerabilities linked to Chinese technology. On November 10, Vice-President Henna Virkkunen introduced a legally binding proposal requiring all EU member states to phase out Huawei and ZTE equipment from their 5G and future telecommunications networks. This marked a sharp departure from the EU’s 2020 ‘5G Toolbox,’ which relied on non-binding recommendations and lacked enforcement mechanisms. The new plan—complete with financial penalties for non-compliance—makes clear that Beijing’s expanding technological influence, and Huawei’s entrenched position in particular, has become the central threat to the Union’s digital sovereignty.

Only a week after the phase-out announcement, EU leaders convened in Berlin for the Summit on European Digital Sovereignty on November 18. There, German Chancellor Friedrich Merz and French President Emmanuel Macron jointly emphasized that Europe must rapidly strengthen its strategic autonomy if it hopes to remain competitive in artificial intelligence, cloud computing, and semiconductors. Although the summit’s official agenda avoided explicitly naming China, Europe’s accelerating policy shift—including the renewed push to remove Huawei from its networks—made the underlying target difficult to miss. The subtext became even clearer when placed alongside Merz’s remarks at a business conference days earlier, where he outlined Germany’s new course: “We have decided within the government that wherever possible, we will replace components, for example, in the 5G network, with components that we produce ourselves,” he said, before adding, “and we will not allow any components from China in the 6G network.”

Europe’s consolidating consensus on a Huawei phase-out now sits alongside the EU AI Act of 2024 and the Cyber Resilience Act of the same year—two frameworks that impose strict cybersecurity and data-protection requirements designed to privilege trusted vendors over high-risk Chinese suppliers.

Unified Export Controls and Sanctions Might Accelerate Transatlantic AI Governance Convergence

The United States’ AI full-stack strategy, outlined in the July 2025 AI Action Plan, seeks to secure American advantage across the full technological chain—from semiconductor chips and high-performance computing to foundational models, data governance, and downstream applications. It blends restrictive measures and incentives: export controls, licensing rules, and standards-setting diplomacy operate as “sticks” to slow China’s access to frontier systems, while subsidies, joint research initiatives, and preferential integration into U.S.-led supply chains serve as “carrots” to draw allies into a shared technological ecosystem. Yet despite the strategy’s breadth, transatlantic coordination remains thin, lacking the institutional depth needed to support a truly integrated approach.

Europe’s recent moves, when viewed through the logic of the U.S. strategy’s sticks and carrots, provide new momentum for narrowing this gap. If Washington can translate this moment into practical institutional mechanisms, the full-stack strategy could serve as a strategic scaffold—offering political reassurance, regulatory leverage, and innovation resources that help Europe consolidate its trusted telecommunications infrastructure while advancing its broader digital sovereignty. In such a coordinated transatlantic framework, the United States and Europe together reinforce the foundations of a shared ‘free world’ technological space, reducing the free world’s dependence on Chinese digital and hardware ecosystems.

This convergence, however, remains fragile. Major EU regulatory projects, including the 2024 AI Act, must still reconcile competing demands from domestic constituencies and both European and American technology firms. The bloc’s struggle over the Huawei question illustrates these tensions vividly. Years of friction between security hawks and economic pragmatists meant that, after the 2020 ‘5G Toolbox,’ only 10–13 member states implemented meaningful restrictions. Germany hesitated largely because Huawei offered a 20–30 percent cost advantage over Nokia and Ericsson, compounded by significant sunk investments in its already‑deployed infrastructure—factors that made a rapid, full ban economically burdensome. Spain faced similar incentives: Telefónica had renewed a Huawei 5G core contract through 2030 and relied heavily on Huawei’s lower‑cost equipment and existing deployments, making an abrupt shift technically and financially challenging. Even so, by July 2025 Madrid committed to phasing out Huawei equipment in Spain and Germany to comply with tightening EU‑level security requirements, while maintaining Huawei systems in Brazil, where no such restrictions applied. Ultimately, Germany and France converged on a stabilizing middle path. Berlin sought to reconcile economic pragmatism with mounting security imperatives by offering subsidies to Deutsche Telekom, Vodafone, and Telefónica to complete equipment swaps by 2027. Paris—more hawkish from the outset—reinforced this trajectory by consistently framing Chinese vendors as fundamental sovereignty risks, helping steer the broader EU toward a more unified and security‑driven position.

These internal pressures help explain the endogenous nature of broader transatlantic divergences—differences that analysts at the Atlantic Council characterize as structural, rooted in the EU’s more precautionary regulatory philosophy, its deeper emphasis on market fairness, and its persistent drive for ‘strategic autonomy,’ especially in digital governance.Yet despite unresolved frictions, convergence is strong where both sides perceive systemic risk—data security, supply-chain resilience, and preventing the militarization of AI and quantum technologies by authoritarian states. The real task is, thus, to translate these shared anxieties into structured cooperation before divergences harden.

Coordinated export controls and sanctions offer a particularly strong pathway for accelerating transatlantic AI governance convergence. These instruments cut to the core of what makes uncoordinated national responses inadequate in an era defined by overproduction, supply-chain dominance, and state-supported technological scaling by Chinese-linked firms. For individual states, unilateral measures against China’s rapid advances are insufficient. But the United States and Europe possess complementary strengths—American technological leadership, European regulatory capacity, and the combined market power of the transatlantic economy—that can turn coordination into the linchpin of a coherent strategy. When synchronized, such controls help bridge differences in high-risk AI safety practices, fortify supply chains, and close loopholes that currently undermine enforcement.

Building this coordination requires elevating emerging-technology policy into a top-tier transatlantic channel—most naturally through a strengthened Trade and Technology Council (TTC). Within such an upgraded framework, Washington and Brussels could operationalize a common approach to high-risk technologies by jointly defining safety expectations for advanced AI systems, aligning listings and sanctions on sensitive Chinese-linked firms, tightening oversight of technology and data flows, coordinating early on outbound investment, and cooperating to disrupt diversion networks operating through Russia and other intermediaries. As analysts at the Atlantic Council note, these mechanisms offer more than technical alignment: they create the institutional fabric that allows the United States and Europe to manage systemic technological risks together rather than in parallel.

A fully developed TTC of this kind would also serve as the platform for narrowing existing regulatory gaps. The United States, for instance, could work with the European Commission (EC) to build an ‘AI-governance bridge’ that provides companies with predictable operational expectations across jurisdictions even when the laws are not identical. Synchronizing sanctions and export restrictions with the Commission and the European External Action Service (EEAS) would tighten enforcement and limit opportunities for evasion. Simultaneously, deeper collaboration with the Directorate-General for Trade (DG TRADE) would help Europe construct a more coherent export-control regime that complements the protective goals embedded in Washington’s AI Action Plan. Reciprocal notification requirements and shared-risk taxonomies for outbound investment would round out this architecture, laying the foundation for a future transatlantic screening system capable of managing strategic leakage at its source. Such alignment would extend the reach of transatlantic AI export controls and sanctions beyond bilateral borders, establishing global standards that shape technology flows worldwide through tiered licensing and extraterritorial enforcement mechanisms.

Rising International Multi-Layer Governance Threats from China to Transatlantic AI Governance

LGU+’s Huawei-linked IoT lab exposes how corporate dependencies can strengthen China’s leverage over allied digital systems.

Recent developments in Northeast Asia illustrate why transatlantic coordination on AI governance and high-risk technology controls must extend far beyond national capitals. In 2020, the U.S. State Department publicly warned LGU+ that continued reliance on Huawei equipment could expose the operator to serious reputational, legal, and security risks—part of Washington’s broader push to discourage high-risk vendors within allied 5G ecosystems. Five years later, during a 2025 parliamentary oversight hearing, LGU+ was again criticized for still operating Huawei-supplied 5G equipment, underscoring how entrenched procurement decisions can harden into long-term structural dependencies even after security concerns become explicit.

In September 2025, Mayor Kang Ki-jung’s Gwangju delegation visited Huawei’s 1.6 km² Shanghai Research Campus, revealing how municipal engagement can strengthen China’s strategic leverage.

Municipal dynamics reveal a similar vulnerability. Last September, Gwangju conducted an official visit to Huawei’s 1.6 km² Shanghai research campus as part of its effort to benchmark smart-city and AI-hub strategies. Though framed as a technical mission, the visit created an opening for Beijing to cultivate influence over subnational officials whose infrastructure preferences increasingly shape the region’s technological trajectory. Such episodes highlight how Chinese firms strategically leverage local development incentives to embed themselves in urban infrastructure planning—well beyond the oversight reach of national authorities.

These cases illuminate a broader strategic tension: while the free world benefits from maintaining limited, cooperative grey zones that allow behavioral observation of Chinese technological conduct, these same spaces create opportunities for Beijing to conduct its own counter-conditioning. The challenge is therefore not simply to preserve channels for observation, but to define the permissible boundaries of these grey zones and discipline the risks associated with them. Without clearer parameters, cooperation intended to generate insight can gradually drift toward structural dependence.

Taken together, these developments are not merely warning signs; they constitute a new frontier of strategic challenge for the transatlantic community. They underscore an underappreciated reality: high-risk technology penetration increasingly occurs through governance layers that traditional export-control systems were never designed to monitor. Ensuring technological security now requires policy mechanisms that span the full chain of decision-making—from national ministries to regional telecom operators to municipal administrations—each capable of introducing vulnerabilities that adversarial firms can exploit. Strengthening vendor‑risk standards, aligning licensing rules, and coordinating penalties across jurisdictions have thus become essential to prevent subnational gaps from crystallizing into strategic footholds for authoritarian influence.

Conclusion: Cultivating Carrots to Advance Transatlantic AI Coordination

Yet institutional alignment alone cannot build a durable front. Sustained cooperation depends on credible economic incentives that make participation strategically and commercially viable for allies. The next phase of transatlantic technological strategy must therefore pair regulatory ambition with material commitments that reduce the political and economic friction of compliance. If Washington couples its institutional efforts with meaningful economic commitments—co‑funded infrastructure, joint R&D programs, and clear assurances that export controls will not become instruments of unilateral commercial gain—its AI full‑stack strategy could evolve from a national blueprint into the backbone of a transatlantic technological alliance.

Such an alliance would not only strengthen the free world’s ability to resist Chinese technological influence but would also offer a coherent model for global technology governance—one grounded in transparency, high‑standard safety, shared economic opportunity, and a rules‑based order capable of shaping the next generation of advanced technologies. In this sense, transatlantic coordination is no longer a desirable accessory to national strategies; it is the essential foundation for securing the free world technological frontier in the decade ahead.

 

Colombian Air Force Kfir fighter jets fly in formation during the military parade to commemorate Colombia’s Independence Day in Bogota on July 20, 2024. (Alejandro Martinez/AFP)

There has been a lot of discussions on US plans in addressing security issues with Venezuela, as US forces take to targeting boats related to cartels attempting to bring narcotics into the United States. While the likelihood of a full assault on Venezuela would mirror the recent strikes on Iran as opposed to a strategy of regime change like in Iraq and Afghanistan, the success in assaulting the most well equipped nation in Latin America comes with significant risks to US forces.

Venezuela has been the benefactor of past procurements of weapons systems from the United States. In the pre-Chavez era, Venezuela was tasked with protecting not only itself, but American and foreign owned oil production assets. This close relationship between the US and Venezuela enabled the former ally to purchase early F-16 jets and rely on the overall protection of US assets in the region. With the start of the Chavez regime, Venezuela moved to a policy of expropriation, the cutting of ties with the West, and massive purchases of Russian military equipment, specifically the SU-30 fighter platform. With Venezuela’s border nations flying older Kfir jets and Mirage IIIE/5s, the SU-30s gave Venezuela a massive advantage in air superiority, now having the most capable fighter jets in the Americas after the United States.

While air defence over Venezuela would start with their SU-30 radars and longer range missiles intercepting incoming threats, Venezuela also obtained a layered air defence network from Russia and radars from China. Venezuela has not just one of the most capable air defence networks in Latin America, but worldwide. Chinese radars are some of the more modern variants available for territorial defence, systems which are now operational in Venezuela. To target longer range threats from the air and evasive missile threats, the export version of the S-300VM is operational in Venezuela. The S-300VM is the export tracked version of Russia’s S-300 missile system, and is one of the most capable systems in the world. To support the S-300VMs, Venezuela also uses the modern BUK-M2 for medium to long range air defence, a system that matches anything operational in the War in Ukraine in 2025. An assault on Venezuela may require more advanced techniques than even the recent strikes on Iran, as their systems are more modern than some of those that were operating in Iran before the strikes.

Being well known for many decades, and becoming more popularized in the movie Top Gun: Maverick, Venezuela operates the SA-3 air defense missile system. While not used as they would operate in real life in the movie, the SA-3 when used en masse would cause a lot of chaos in the air for any non-stealth aircraft conducting an assault on Venezuela. While the F-35s and F-22s would be a solution to avoiding the SA-3’s modernised radars in Venezuela, it would have made for a less exciting movie. A a mark of excellence, of good training by the SA-3 radar operators, and mistakes by the pilot and his support structures, an SA-3 was able to shoot down a F-117 stealth bomber over Serbia in the 1999. Even in chess, the Pawn sometimes is lucky enough to kill a King.

While the common theme when speaking about a US assault on Venezuela does not consider the mission to have great risks overall, mistakes could lead to US pilots being shot down. With multiple scenarios of defeating both S-300 systems and BUK-M2s having taken place in Ukraine, US forces likely have a good base of knowledge on how to defeat these systems in real world combat scenarios. Venezuela is quite a large country, and the very limited number of S-300VMs is not adequate to defend the entire territory. Lacking a sufficient number of BUK-M2s is also a problem and the SA-3 systems can be carefully avoided or defeated via cruise missile strikes on their radar hubs and launchers themselves. In reality, those missiles would have been taken out by overwhelming waves of Tomahawk cruise missile strikes in order to save Tom Cruise an Miles Teller a lot of grief, and in real life, all of the S-300VMs, BUK-M2s and SA-3s would be hit early with the Chinese made radars seeing the strikes coming in and being subject to them directly. If US bravado on Venezuela turns to conflict, waves of missiles would be what strikes Venezuela first and perhaps last, with no pilots being put at risk in the initial assault. The loss of US lives in combat with Venezuela would sour the public on any coercive actions, but the bluff might be worth the reward in the view of the current US Administration.

At first glance, the comparison seems almost absurd. Mongolia, a vast country with enormous mineral wealth, stretching between two geopolitical giants, versus Belize, a small Central American state with limited territory, modest population and no strategic depth. By classical logic, Mongolia should be the stronger actor in economic sovereignty. Yet recent analytical measurements reveal a far more counterintuitive reality: Belize today demonstrates a higher level of practical economic sovereignty than Mongolia.   As an expert of the International Burke Institute and an active participant in projects aimed at strengthening national sovereignty, I encounter such paradoxes with increasing frequency. They reveal one of the central truths of the modern world: economic sovereignty is no longer a function of size, territory, or raw resources. It is a function of control, diversification, resilience and institutional discipline.   Mongolia is rich in coal, copper, gold and rare earth elements. Its underground wealth is undeniable. Yet much of its economic model remains structurally dependent on a narrow export base and on external demand, primarily from a single dominant market. This creates a classic dependency trap. When prices fluctuate or geopolitical pressure intensifies, Mongolia’s fiscal stability, currency strength and social balance become immediately vulnerable to external forces it does not control.   Belize, by contrast, lacks large-scale mineral reserves and does not command major industrial capacity. But over the past two decades it has built something far more decisive for modern sovereignty: a diversified economic structure that reduces exposure to single-source dependency. Tourism, financial services, agriculture, logistics and digital services form a balanced ecosystem. None of these sectors dominates absolutely, yet together they form a resilient economic architecture.   Economic sovereignty is not measured by how much a country exports, but by how freely it can decide under pressure. A state that earns billions from raw materials but cannot influence pricing, transportation routes or investment conditions is not fully sovereign in economic terms. It is economically active, but strategically constrained. This is where Mongolia’s vulnerability becomes evident. Its resources generate revenue, but not full control.   Belize’s advantage lies not in volume, but in flexibility. Its economy is small, but adaptive. External shocks do not collapse the entire system at once. Currency policy, fiscal regulation and sectoral balance provide room for maneuver. In moments of global turbulence, this flexibility becomes a strategic asset far more valuable than sheer scale.   At the International Burke Institute, where we are finalizing the comprehensive Sovereignty Index to be presented this December for all UN member states, economic sovereignty is assessed not by GDP alone, but by a deeper set of indicators. These include dependency ratios, trade concentration, fiscal autonomy, financial system resilience and the state’s capacity to absorb shocks without losing strategic autonomy. It is within this multidimensional framework that Belize unexpectedly outperforms Mongolia.   As someone directly engaged in both the analytical and practical dimensions of this work, I see a pattern repeating across regions. States that rely heavily on a narrow economic corridor — one commodity, one route, one partner — accumulate invisible vulnerabilities. Their economies may look strong in growth charts, but their sovereignty erodes silently through structural exposure. When disruption comes, decision-making becomes reactive rather than sovereign.   Belize followed a different logic. Instead of maximizing output from a single dominant resource, it invested in balancing multiple smaller sectors. This did not produce spectacular growth headlines. But it produced something far more durable: economic independence in critical moments. Sovereignty is not tested in times of prosperity. It is tested when options disappear.   Mongolia now faces the classic dilemma of many resource-rich states: how to convert natural wealth into strategic autonomy rather than long-term dependence. The answer lies not in extracting more, but in restructuring more. Without diversification, even the richest subsoil becomes a fragile foundation for sovereignty.   The Belize–Mongolia contrast illustrates a broader truth about the modern global system. Size no longer guarantees strength. Wealth no longer guarantees independence. What matters is the architecture of control. Who sets the terms of trade? Who controls capital flows? Who absorbs the first удар during a crisis?   In December, when the full Sovereignty Index is released, many governments will confront similar surprises. Some large states will discover hidden fragility. Some small ones will discover unexpected strength. And many will face an uncomfortable realization: economic sovereignty today is built not by scale, but by structure.   Belize did not become stronger than Mongolia by growing bigger. It became stronger by becoming smarter in how it organizes dependency and control. And in the modern world, that difference defines who truly holds economic sovereignty — and who merely appears to.

Retro-futuristic illustration of Château Frontenac Indo-Pacifique, surrounded by futuristic floating cities and airships(Artwork by ChatGPT, 2025)

Sea‑level rise is no longer a distant warning but an active force reshaping coastal geographies—threatening infrastructure, displacing communities, and exposing the limits of traditional urban planning. As these pressures intensify, global institutions are reimagining what future cities must become to withstand environmental volatility. Meanwhile, on a wholly separate track, populist political visions are revisiting the idea of new cities not out of climate necessity but out of a desire for mobility, opportunity, and a renewed appetite for frontier‑style experimentation. Yet both trajectories, for different reasons, could plausibly converge on the same notional theater: the Pacific Ocean, a vast expanse that some in Washington still, with a characteristically patriotic flourish, call “American lake.”

Against this evolving backdrop, UN‑Habitat’s floating‑city initiative steps in as the global institutional expression of these shifting ambitions—anchoring its efforts in the Indo‑Pacific, where the earliest practical attempts to build sustainable, resilient ocean‑based habitats are already unfolding. The concept first took formal shape in 2019, when more than 70 stakeholders gathered at UN Headquarters to evaluate floating cities not as speculative fiction but as viable responses to coastal vulnerability and housing scarcity. UN‑Habitat’s leadership emphasized that such innovation must benefit “all people,” underscoring inclusivity, affordability, and environmental responsibility.

On the other side sits an unexpectedly parallel vision from U.S. President Donald J. Trump, who in 2023 proposed constructing up to ten ‘Freedom Cities’ on unused federal land—futuristic settlements with advanced infrastructure, vertical take‑off vehicles, mass‑produced homes, and a bid to reopen the frontier of American development. His proposal reframed challenges of affordability, mobility, and industrial decline as opportunities for ambitious reinvention.

Despite their divergent motivations—UN‑Habitat driven by global equity and rising seas, Trump by economic dynamism and national aspiration—both frameworks share a foundational recognition: the static, land‑bound city is losing relevance. Their overlap hints at the emerging idea of ‘floating freedom cities,’ where Pacific Island sovereignty and American patriotism intersect in surprising ways. In this light, the question is no longer whether such visions belong to speculative futurism, but how—and how soon—they might materialize in the Indo‑Pacific’s high‑stakes environments. And even though the United States is not yet directly constructing floating cities, the diplomatic, industrial, and regional maneuvering surrounding them is already underway—quietly shaping the context into which the next phase of development will emerge.

 Current Development Status — Maldives vs UN‑Habitat’s Oceanix

Floating cities have moved decisively beyond theory, and nowhere is this more evident than in the Maldives—arguably the world’s most vulnerable proving ground for ocean‑based urbanism. A full floating settlement is already taking shape there, where rising seas threaten nearly 80 percent of national territory. As reported, the Maldives Floating City—developed with Dutch marine engineers—has been designed as a 200‑hectare lagoon community composed of nearly 5,000 coral‑patterned housing modules. Engineered to rise and fall with the tides, the platforms absorb storm surges while protecting surrounding reefs, transforming environmental volatility into structural resilience. Early phases project homes for approximately 20,000 residents, with units ranging from 1,000 to 1,500 square feet and supported by pontoons, canals, and solar‑powered utilities. The Maldivian initiative demonstrates that floating cities are not privileges reserved for advanced economies—they can serve small island nations confronting existential land loss in real time.

By comparions, UN‑Habitat’s Oceanix project—the world’s first sustainable floating‑city prototype—shows how rapidly the idea has shifted from architectural speculation to applied engineering. Designed to house 12,000 residents across three interconnected platforms spanning 15.5 acres, Oceanix carries an estimated construction cost between $200 million and $627 million. Its modular platforms integrate renewable‑energy systems, zero‑waste loops, on‑site food production, and resilient marine architecture capable of withstanding category‑5 hurricanes. Crucially, the entire structure is engineered to adapt to projected sea‑level rise of 1–2 feet over the next three decades, positioning Oceanix not only as a climate buffer but as an early expression of a new amphibious urban typology.

Beyond these flagship projects, the technologies enabling ocean‑based settlements signal a broader shift in how humans may inhabit marine environments. Very Large Floating Structures (VLFS), autonomous marine robotics, AI‑driven environmental monitoring, offshore solar‑wind hybrids, and advanced desalination collectively form the technical backbone of sustained ocean living. Rather than marking a break from existing practice, these systems extend the logic of maritime infrastructure, offshore energy, and ocean‑logistics networks already central to the Indo‑Pacific. Within this continuum, floating cities emerge as a provocative evolution in urban form: modular, mobile, ocean‑based population centers capable of expanding, repositioning, or replicating as new infrastructure is added. The Indo‑Pacific thus becomes not merely a testing ground but the region most likely to define the next stage of marine‑based urban development.

From Climate Sanctuary to a Plurality of Freedom Cities

Building on this trajectory, the next phase of floating‑city development is best seen as a natural extension of early prototypes. The Maldives and Oceanix projects demonstrate that floating settlements are maturing into credible, adaptive, and resilient urban forms. What remains is understanding how these models might evolve—sometimes aligned, sometimes divergent—to shape humanitarian, urban, and technological futures in parallel. In this sense, the three emerging functions of floating cities offer a conceptual bridge: they link the UN’s focus on inclusive, resilient development with the frontier‑driven ambition behind the Freedom Cities idea, making “floating freedom cities” a plausible meeting point between the two.

 a) Climate sanctuary with political agency: For UN member states and climate‑vulnerable communities, floating cities offer a humane alternative to forced climate migration. With climate refugees expected to appear in Australia as early as 2026, displacement pressures are no longer abstract. As rising seas erode the physical basis of sovereignty, small‑island nations face territorial, cultural, and political dislocation.

Floating freedom cities provide a third path—neither retreat nor erasure. They offer continuity of territory, culture, and governance even as coastlines vanish. Rather than treating displaced populations as burdens, these ocean‑based settlements enable communities to rebuild, reorganize, and retain political agency at sea. In this sense, floating cities operate not merely as emergency shelters but as platforms for preserving identity, autonomy, and nationhood.

b) An urban pressure valve—and a new frontier. In Trump’s Freedom Cities vision, the appeal lies in mobility, expansion, and architectural ambition. Floating cities mirror this impulse by extending urban space onto the water. For megacities in the Indo-Pacific, such as Manila, Jakarta, and Mumbai —already straining under intense density—floating districts act as modular spillover zones, expanding habitable space without displacement or coastal damage. The UN’s equity‑driven adaptation logic and Trump’s frontier‑expansion logic thus converge: both imagine cities growing outward into underused spaces. In doing so, floating freedom cities complement rather than compete with UN‑Habitat’s mission, becoming parallel laboratories for livability, affordability, and spatial innovation.

c) A plural, mobile tech‑industrial archipelago. Borrowing from the cinematic imagination of Mortal Engines, one can envision mobile cities roaming not as dystopian predators but as self‑contained civic organisms bearing industry, identity, and infrastructure. Transposed onto the ocean, multiple floating cities—each housing tens of thousands people—glide across open water and interlock into a shimmering mesh of shared energy grids, data links, and industrial platforms. In this optimistic reinterpretation, mobility becomes a tool of cooperation and specialization rather than conflict.

UN frameworks emphasize sustainability and marine stewardship, while Trump’s rhetoric highlights manufacturing revival and mobility. A floating freedom‑city network—multiple nodes rather than a single metropolis—can embody both visions: ocean‑cooled data centers, marine‑robotics yards, aquaculture grids, offshore‑energy labs, and floating logistics depots forming a distributed archipelago of economic activity. Such clusters could support populations in the low millions, blurring the boundaries between humanitarian refuge, industrial hub, and autonomous urban frontier.

Positioned along Indo‑Pacific maritime arteries, these nodes become not only strategic assets but strategic presences—civilian, economic, and humanitarian first, with strategic effects emerging from what they enable rather than what they threaten. Instead of resembling military bases, floating freedom‑city networks act as connective tissue: linking trade routes, supporting relief operations, extending digital infrastructure, and anchoring industrial capacity across open water. In the interplay between UN‑Habitat’s inclusive governance and Trump’s frontier‑urban ambition, these cities assume a plural identity—sanctuary, laboratory, and geopolitical signal at once. A floating frontier shaped not by fortification but by adaptability, mobility, and purpose, its influence carried by currents, commerce, and capability rather than hard power alone.

A conference titled “Sudan in Crisis: Turning Humanitarian Action into Lasting Peace” was held today at the European Parliament in Brussels, bringing together Members of the European Parliament, experts, researchers, and journalists to discuss the latest developments in Sudan and the urgent need to support a population suffering from systematic human rights violations, famine, and mass displacement since the outbreak of war on 15 April 2023.

The debate was moderated by Manel Msalmi, human rights advisor at the Milton Friedman Institute. Claude Moniquet, journalist and former intelligence expert, emphasized the role of the Muslim Brotherhood and Iran in fueling the conflict. He pointed to evidence of Iranian arms smuggling through the Red Sea to the Sudanese army, warning that the establishment of such a network of Iranian influence would pose a strategic threat to Europe and the wider region.

Paulo Casaca, former MEP and founder of the South Asia Forum, noted that Qatar and other states have strongly supported Islamist forces in Sudan. He added that Sudan’s rulers have dismantled the international mechanisms designed to curb their human rights abuses, much like what happened with UNITAMS.

Heath Sloane, Director of Geopolitical Intelligence at B&K Agency, underlined that Islamists have become a strategic actor in the current war, with the influence of the Muslim Brotherhood and the Iran–Houthi axis deeply entrenched. He stressed that the war in Sudan matters to Europe due to migration pressures, the threat of exporting extremist ideologies, and the risk of hostile external powers gaining a foothold in the country. He urged the EU to support Sudanese actors committed to pluralism—particularly women’s groups, minorities, journalists, and civic organizations.

Khalid Omer Yousif, former Sudanese Minister of Cabinet Affairs and a leading political figure, stressed that the conflict represents the world’s largest humanitarian catastrophe and has no military solution. He noted that its roots lie in decades of military rule that suppressed Sudan’s diversity. He highlighted grave violations committed by both parties and called for accountability. He also emphasized that the Sudanese Islamic Movement is prolonging the war and should be designated as a terrorist organization. He concluded by urging Europe to support the Quad’s 12 September roadmap, scale up humanitarian assistance, and back the international fact-finding mission to ensure justice.

Andy Vermaut, journalist and human rights defender, began by recalling the 2019 Sudanese revolution and the hope it inspired, before the Islamist and military leaders plunged the country into atrocities and mass killings in 2021. He highlighted the devastating consequences of the war, including famine, sexual violence, and suffocation caused by chemical weapons. He called on the EU to act in line with its commitments to human rights and democracy, to ban the Muslim Brotherhood, isolate extremist actors, and ensure unhindered humanitarian aid to civilians. He regrets that the Egyptian Army and intelligence services are actively supporting the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF), prolonging the civil war.

Saudi Arabia and Qatar have financed the purchase of Chinese weapons for SAF through black-market channels. SAF has deployed Chinese and Russian aircraft — reportedly procured with Qatari support — to bomb churches and mosques.

Sudan has offered Port Sudan as a strategic gateway for Russia into Africa. This move threatens European security interests by enabling Moscow to arm militias across the continent.

The conference ended by a screening of a France 24 investigation report on the use of chemical weapons by the army against civilians published last week.

Before assessing why small Cyprus outperforms far wealthier Middle Eastern states in cognitive influence, it is essential to understand the analytical framework used to measure such power. The International Burke Institute (IBI) evaluates sovereignty using the Sovereignty Index (Burke Index) — a holistic measurement of a state’s real autonomy across seven domains: political, economic, technological, informational, cultural, cognitive, and military sovereignty.   Each domain is calculated from verifiable data drawn from UNDP, UNESCO, OECD, ITU, FAO, World Bank, SIPRI, UNODC, national statistical offices, and expert assessments from at least 100 specialists across 50+ countries. Every domain carries a maximum of 100 points; together they form a 700-point Cumulative Sovereignty Index. This methodology allows analysts to see not only how powerful a country is — but how independent it is in shaping narratives, shaping education, and shaping minds.   Across the Mediterranean, one paradox stands out: How can tiny Cyprus — with no oil, a divided territory, and a population smaller than many Gulf cities — surpass oil monarchies in cognitive sovereignty? The Burke Index reveals a truth obscured by wealth: cognitive power does not stem from money, but from openness, trust, education, and the way societies produce and process information.   Cyprus has, over decades, developed a remarkably resilient cognitive ecosystem. High literacy rates, EU-aligned educational standards, strong press pluralism, and broad exposure to global academic networks create a culture in which information is not merely consumed, but tested. International schools, multilingual education, vibrant universities, and student mobility programs cultivate a population proficient in cross-cultural communication and critical thinking — traits that dramatically increase cognitive sovereignty scores in IBI’s methodology.   Oil monarchies, despite their wealth, often trail behind Cyprus in these specific indicators. This is not a function of resources but of structural limitations: controlled media environments, restricted academic spaces, lower levels of independent research, and limited freedom for critical debate. Economic power can import technology, infrastructure, and talent — but it cannot instantly manufacture cognitive autonomy.   Cyprus also benefits from something money cannot buy: -a diverse informational environment shaped by conflict. Living under the reality of a divided island, Cypriots developed a sharper instinct for distinguishing propaganda from fact, political rhetoric from policy, external pressure from internal agency. This creates a form of societal literacy that no petro-economy, however wealthy, can replicate through spending alone.   In the Burke Index categories, this manifests clearly:  • Cognitive literacy scores are higher, due to EU education standards and wide access to global research.  • Media freedom scores outperform those of monarchies, where information is often tightly controlled.  • Language proficiency levels are significantly broader, increasing access to knowledge.  • Academic mobility and international exposure are far greater, enabling the population to absorb and analyze global ideas.  • Critical thinking indicators from PISA-linked assessments show stronger performance.   Cyprus also wields cultural hybridity as a strategic asset. Sitting between Europe and the Middle East, it absorbs, synthesizes, and reinterprets information from multiple civilizational sources — European democratic norms, Levantine cultural ties, Mediterranean identity, and global academic exchange. This mixed intellectual heritage gives Cyprus a soft-power advantage in shaping narratives regionally and internationally.   Meanwhile, the Gulf monarchies often score highly in economic and technological sovereignty but face difficulties in cognitive sovereignty: their information spaces are curated, their academic institutions often hierarchical, and public discourse frequently shaped from above. These conditions weaken the ability of societies to generate independent thought or resist external informational pressure — both central criteria in IBI’s sovereignty methodology.   Cyprus, ironically, not only resists such pressure but redefines it. Its openness allows for competition of ideas; its institutions provide platforms for intellectual pluralism; its education system reinforces analytical thinking; its media environment encourages debate. These dynamics elevate Cyprus from being a small island into an unexpected cognitive powerhouse in the Mediterranean.   In the emerging global struggle for influence — where wars are fought not only on land but in minds — the Burke Index reveals a lesson far more valuable than oil wealth: the countries that win the cognitive battle are those that cultivate literacy, openness, diversity of thought, and resilience to manipulation.   Cyprus may be small, but it stands tall in the field where size matters the least — and sovereignty matters the most.

On November 23rd in The Hague, more than 70 European and international experts gathered outside the International Criminal Court with a message Europe can no longer afford to ignore: the Muslim Brotherhood has become one of the most destabilizing forces operating within the continent’s borders. Their warning did not arise spontaneously. It reflects years of intelligence findings, parliamentary investigations, and a pattern of radicalization that has already reshaped the social and political landscape of major European cities.   The Muslim Brotherhood presents itself as a civil society organization committed to democracy and inclusion. But behind this veneer lies a political movement with a well-documented long-term strategy: transforming Europe from within through ideological infiltration, institutional penetration, and the gradual normalization of political Islam as an alternative to democratic governance.   European intelligence agencies in France, Belgium, Austria, and Germany have detailed the same pattern: Brotherhood networks use charities, cultural centers, mosques, community associations, youth clubs, and political organizations to shape local politics, influence policy debates, and recruit the next generation of activists. Their goal is not integration — it is transformation.   Former Dutch politician Henry Van Bommel summarized this strategy precisely at the Hague gathering: A “civilizational-jihadist process” aimed at eliminating Western civilization from within through ideological influence and political engagement.”   This is not a conspiracy theory. It is documented in classified intelligence reports, parliamentary inquiries, and court proceedings across Europe.   Speakers in The Hague emphasized an important distinction that must guide European policy: the Muslim Brotherhood is not Islam, and it does not represent Europe’s Muslim communities. It is a political project. As Ramon Rahangmetan warned, the issue is not religion but a movement that threatens democratic cohesion.   Across the continent, evidence of the Brotherhood’s presence is visible: parallel societies, foreign-financed NGOs, youth indoctrination, and extremist protests targeting Jews, women, LGBTQ communities, and democratic institutions. Interpol has documented over 100 jihadist attacks in Europe over the past decade — many ideologically linked to the Brotherhood’s worldview. Dr. Julio Levit Koldorf noted how “woke progressives” have unwittingly enabled a movement fundamentally opposed to European values.   EU investigations have revealed another alarming pattern: EU taxpayers indirectly financing Brotherhood-aligned organizations, while foreign governments — especially Qatar and Turkey — serve as major sponsors. Belgium-based activist Fahimeh Il Ghami stressed the need to designate both the Muslim Brotherhood and the IRGC as terrorist entities, given their transnational destabilizing roles.   Europe’s legal systems — built to protect freedom — have become vulnerable to exploitation. The Brotherhood uses religious rights, NGO protections, and democratic mechanisms to build legitimacy even as it advances an agenda contrary to those very principles. Tarana Faroqi rightly argued that when an organization engages in covert financing, intimidation, public-institution infiltration, or extremism promotion, the law must respond decisively.   Europe must no longer hesitate. The Muslim Brotherhood is designated a terrorist organization in Egypt, Saudi Arabia, the UAE, Bahrain, and parts of Austria. The United States categorizes its affiliated networks as extremist threats. Europe cannot remain the exception.   A coherent European strategy must include: full financial transparency on foreign funding, designation of extremist networks, oversight of political-Islamist organizations, support for liberal Muslim voices, and EU-wide intelligence coordination.   This is not a battle against a religion — it is a defense of Europe’s democratic identity.   Europe is at a crossroads. Ignoring the Muslim Brotherhood’s influence will not buy stability. It will deepen polarization, undermine social cohesion, and embolden extremist actors. The choice is stark but simple.

The Winter War that started in 2022 between Russia and Ukraine had some very surprising outcomes, one of which being that it is still going on in 2025. The defence Ukraine provided for itself with limited initial assistance from the West showed how effective the Soviet defences would have been during the Cold War. Ukraine’s armed forces and its defences was the barrier between East and West, with much of the Soviet weapons, plans, and systems for protecting the Greater Soviet Union being based in Ukraine. Attacking one of the greatest defensive structures in modern history with capabilities from the late 80s, proved to be as difficult to collapse as designed, even with modern 2022 weapons. Three years later, most of the modern 2022 weapons systems are burnt hulks on the Ukrainian plains, and the great Soviet weapons stockpiles have been stripped and torn apart in war, used by both sides of the conflict.

With Russia depleted and weakened, and its allies in the southern regions on the edge of failing, it remains a question to whether or not a failed Russia would be a better strategic outcome for the West. At the end of the Cold War, the menace that faced the world came about in the form of insurgency movements, supplied by smaller players at the will of larger adversaries. Sufficient attention to terror threats like those currently in Nigeria were effectively ignored, or given little attention that lead to any effective solutions. Today, the largest threats come from internal strife, likely designed to weaken and perplex any solutions, funded from abroad. Even with strategic victories in Europe and the Mid East, the main threat of large military action will come from Asia, and a feebled West will enable a large assault when weakness in leadership is demonstrated in North America and Europe. That claim can easily be made, linking the escape from Afghanistan towards enabling the war in 2022, a pure example of War Through Weakness.

China’s latest demonstration of its military prowess came with the introduction of several long range missile types, married to laser based defensive weapons systems. With the success of the China made J-10 against Indian Rafale jets, the move from Russia being the world’s largest weapons exporter towards China is likely to take shape rapidly. India itself uses licensed produced T-90 tanks and Sukhoi jets, technology that always surpassed China’s military technology in the past, but was unable to give significant advantage in the recent bout with Pakistan. Russia in its weakened state would secede a lot of regional power dynamics towards insurgencies in the South and China in the East, a security problem that could become more dynamic and difficult to address for the West in the future. With so little attention given to smaller regional conflicts, the likelihood of a small regional issue being felt in the West is almost a certainty, with Europe and the United States being target number one by all of these groups. Asymmetric warfare can never be ignored, even when a conventional war is the focus of defense policy.

Russia’s losses in Ukraine has lead to such a massive depletion of equipment, that the most substantial T-72 stockpiles are now likely in the old Soviet periphery of the Caucasus region and by allies like Venezuela. China, who has already taken to replacing much of its modern 2008 equipment with newer systems, has the largest and most modern standard military force in the world. While quantity has its own quality, massive quantities of common tanks like the ZTZ96 are at least equal to a T-72B, and the ZTZ99 variants can match the capabilities of a T-90, with more modern variants recently demonstrated in China amongst missiles and lasers. While the PLA ground forces would most likely be used against Indian forces on the border regions, China’s strategic missile forces are meant for the US Navy and for an assault on Taiwan. Western allies must decide what they wish for in their relations with Russia and end any adversarial support coming from other regions as soon as possible, as the main field of battle is now internal. Without addressing internal divisions, a motivation will come about for the massive army being built by China to advance an assault. A signal of weakness is being sought to continue the 2022 war beyond Europe to go worldwide. You can see it in every town and city in the West, and in every cannon forged for the PLA daily.

Ukrainian Made, Russian privately owned, Antonov AN-124 cargo plane grounded and ceased in Toronto, Canada since Feb 2022 after bringing in Covid supplies for the Canadian Government.

The united front in support of Ukraine solidified itself when the new US Administration’s efforts to bring a rapid end to the conflict was met with drone incursions outside of Ukraine’s territory, into the airspace of NATO countries. While efforts continue to negotiate an end to the conflict, support of Ukraine by all NATO allies continues, with advanced weapons from the US, France, Sweden and others in support of Ukraine’s Armed Forces. With a new funding arrangement since 2024, the importance of a united NATO is likely the only method to end the madness of the death machine that is the War in Ukraine.

One ally of the West, Canada, has taken its own approach in challenging the norm in US and NATO relations. Canada is unique in that is lies at the geographical centre of many world conflicts, and is a key ally that could help bring an end to conflict, or enable a long grind for its allies in this war. Canada is a microcosm of the West in its economy, location and values, but has chosen its trade relationship as the focus of its economy and security. The three pressures Canada face are China in the East, to Russia in the North, and Europe in the West. Canada’s response to the US and these three challenges will define Canada’s next generation of progress, whether they like it or not.

Canada seems to have taken an opposite track with their allies on China, doing little to challenge influences from their regime. Canada is considering increased trade with China to counter trade limits placed on it by the US, while similar limits are currently burdening Canada-China trade relations. Canada has been reticent to share intelligence information requested by the US on many occasions, done so despite the fact that the US-Canada border was at one point the most lucrative trading relationship in the world, and could easily regain that title in a year or two if needed. Canadian elections have been influenced from China on a few occasions, making running as a democratic candidate in Canada something that could hold risk from abroad. The reality is that many foreign actors infiltrate common allies like the UK for its financial industry and Australia for its role as a strong Western ally in the East, but Canada’s close proximity to the US with a largest undefended border is a strategic asset for any regime targeting the United States. While Canadian interests not being American interests may win elections, developing Canada into a hub for the interests of non-NATO allies hurts all Canadians.

It is never mentioned in the Canadian narrative that Canada has a Northern border with Russia. As an ally of Ukraine and NATO, Canada is responsible for defending itself from Northern incursions from Russian territory, especially those involving ballistic missiles. While Canada and the US always had a defensive posture via NORAD, the latest developments has Canada planning to move away from the US and purchase a defense radar complex from Australia. While the system from Australia is likely perfectly suited for Canada, the distance and parts to repair it if attacked or damaged leaves logistical issues that would not exist if using a system closer to Northern Canada coming from the US. Shipping parts from Australia to Canada post-attack would leave shipping vessels open to attack from China’s PLAN and Russia’s Navy, with little support ships from Canada existing to protect against an attack at the other end of the Pacific Ocean. Planes to ship such large parts were often contracted out to companies using Antonov aircraft, made in Ukraine, but used by companies incorporated in Russia. The US plan to produce a Golden Dome missile defense shield over North America may remedy many of these issues, but Canada would need to fully choose those tied in systems, likely not using their Australian radars in the infrastructure of the system. While THAAD type systems would make up the bulk of the first iterations of the Golden Dome, Canada would need to choose a path to keep itself safe as well, while supporting the safety of the US to the south. Radar detection means little when you have no missile interceptors to defend your cities, and most of your best equipment was sent to Ukraine’s border. It is unsure what military assets are capable in 2025 to defend Canada’s Northern Border region, and it is likely the case that Canada’s North is so poorly equipped that it is undefended at the moment from anything more than a slow 1950s era TU-95 Bear bomber. At this point, it is unsure what Canadian assets are defending the North from Russia’s mobile Topol missiles.

Canada’s narrative seems to be ignoring the issues above, in favour of the concept of becoming a member of the EU. While the Canadian government claims it has great ties to the EU, Canada’s own coat of arms shows ties to the United Kingdom historically and culturally, a region that has been divorced from the European Union for a few years. Canada’s main ties to the EU comes from their defense agreements via NATO, and NATO is focused on the defense of Western Europe. European powers would not be capable of adjusting to a defense of Canada due to distance and the vastness of Canada’s landmass, being limited themselves in defending from ballistic missile attacks using a lot less sophisticated weapons than a Topol missile system. Europe currently are tied up defending against drone incursions into Western Europe, and Canada would simply not ever be a priority for NATO.

Canada has its own issues making NATO a priority. Canada was asked directly to help ease the energy tensions in Europe from the Ukraine War, and declined the opportunity to help European citizens. After being openly requested to do so by European allies and Japan, Canada’s Government continues to refuse to take any meaningful steps to help send its oil and gas to Europe and Asia to help its Western allies. In the midst of this policy, Europe sought oil relief from using Russian oil bought from third party nations, only now to see it ceased due to the US targeting those nations purchasing Russian oil and gas. Despite all this, Canada has yet to take any serious steps to support its allies with its energy resources, but continues with its narrative for electoral gains.

The reality of Canada joining the EU comes after a generation of limited and failed trade agreements between Canada and the EU and Canada and the UK, the latter never being solidified due to limitations on access to Canada’s dairy sector. The same limit Canada placed on the US, ended up halting the Canada-UK trade agreement over Canadian agro sectors. While there is a Canada-European Union trade agreement, adding Canada to the EU would be counterproductive as Canada would burden the European Union’s agro sector by directly competing with it, something the EU never permits. Even when accepting new members into the EU, countries with large agro sectors like Poland were only admitted when they agreed to be discriminated against via their agro sector in favour of existing members keeping their benefits to those sectors. Canada’s massive agro sector has no value to the EU, and would be a disruption to local political interests. Europe’s need for Canadian oil and gas has already been scuttled by Canadian energy policy, or lack thereof, so Europe doesn’t need Canada, and when it does, Canada refused to give substantial help, even during the War in Ukraine.

The current policy limiting the sale of Russian energy is one of the best tools for winning the war. Canadian energy could be a near perfect remedy against European dependency on Russian oil and gas, helping all Europeans and other allies as a core strategic asset in the Ukraine War. Canadian policy could greatly contribute to ending the war sooner, keep Canadian safer, and produce a more prosperous relationship between Canada and the world. Canada does not seem to be going in that direction unfortunately, despite it being their duty as a NATO and Western ally. Europe will not seek added detriments from an additional member to the EU if that member has no ability to defend itself internally or externally, nor trade with its allies for needed assets. It is a choice for those in Canada to make if they wish to become part of the productive world, or become a victim of their own short term narratives. In Canada’s case, voting truly matters.

Source: UN

President Donald J. Trump on Sept. 23rd pledged that the United States would lead a global effort to strengthen safeguards against biological weapons, telling the United Nations General Assembly that his administration would spearhead the creation of an artificial intelligence–based verification system to enforce the Biological Weapons Convention.

“My administration will lead an international effort to enforce the biological weapons convention,” Mr. Trump said. “We will do so by pioneering an AI verification system that everyone can trust.” His remarks reflected Washington’s ambition to harness cutting-edge technologies to confront the rising risk of engineered pathogens.

An American Tradition of Leadership

The United States has long sought to place itself at the forefront of biological arms control. In 1969, it formally renounced any offensive biological weapons program; in 1975, it helped bring the Biological Weapons Convention into force. Today, nearly 190 nations are parties to the treaty, and the U.S. has consistently pressed to adapt it to new scientific and technological challenges.

In August, this year, during the Sixth Session of the Working Group on Strengthening the Convention in Geneva, the U.S. again assumed a prominent role. American negotiators pushed for stronger verification, greater transparency, and deeper cooperation to confront emerging biotechnological threats. They backed legally binding compliance provisions, capacity-building initiatives, and expanded confidence-building measures (CBMs), all aimed at updating the treaty for contemporary biological risks. That leadership not only generated momentum toward consensus but also produced tangible steps to reinforce global security and public health amid rapid advances in synthetic biology and AI. Looking ahead, Mr. Trump’s AI initiative is expected to be a centerpiece of debate at the 2026 BWC Review Conference, where states parties will weigh its potential role in shaping the future of biological arms control.

AI Verification as a Safeguard

The risk landscape at the intersection of AI and synthetic biology is changing rapidly. Tools originally developed for protein engineering or drug discovery are increasingly able to model novel toxins or design pathogens, lowering barriers to misuse. With the aid of large language models, even individuals with little biological training could, in theory, create harmful agents or evade conventional biosecurity measures. Such possibilities highlight the vulnerabilities that legitimate research faces in monitoring immune evasion, gene editing, and transmissibility.

Against this backdrop, the system outlined by Mr. Trump represents a shift from traditional state-centered inspections toward a networked, data-driven model. By leveraging artificial intelligence to analyze research data, genetic sequences, and biotechnology transactions, the platform is designed to detect suspicious activity that might indicate the development or stockpiling of biological weapons. In practice, it would operate as a cloud-based network, integrating existing biosurveillance databases and research registries, and using machine learning to flag anomalies in real time.

The U.S. Defense Threat Reduction Agency’s Biosurveillance Ecosystem (BSVE) offers a preview of how such a system could function globally. For example, when an unusual spike in respiratory illness appears in a metropolitan area, BSVE enables analysts to quickly identify outbreak patterns, assess severity, and coordinate responses with local health authorities. It does so by ingesting diverse data streams—from social media posts and news reports to diagnostic results and historical outbreak records—and applying machine learning and natural language processing to detect anomalies. Those insights are then visualized on an analyst dashboard, providing an opportunity for early intervention before localized outbreaks spiral into full epidemics.

Lai Ching-te(R) greeting the crowd with a crossed finger gesture after delivering his speech on Taiwan’s National Day, October 10, 2025.

When President Lai Ching-te unveiled Taiwan’s T-Dome air and missile defense system on National Day, October 10, 2025, the message to Beijing was unmistakable: Taiwan is done waiting to see what comes next.

Taiwan’s T-Dome, the island’s most up-to-date effort to build credible deterrence against China, is a sophisticated, multi-layered air defense network designed to counter diverse aerial threats, from drones to ballistic missiles, by integrating advanced radar systems, interceptor missiles like the domestically developed Sky Bow III and U.S.-supplied Patriot batteries, as well as short-range Stinger missiles. Its AI-driven ‘sensor-to-shooter’ architecture is particularly noteworthy for its capacity to fuse data from radar arrays and sensors to coordinate rapid, precise interception while utilizing mobile launchers and hardened command centers to ensure resilience during sustained attacks. Prioritizing overlapping protection of critical infrastructure and command nodes in strategic areas such as Taipei, Taichung, and Kaohsiung, the Lai administration has positioned the T-Dome as the centerpiece of its defense modernization agenda, anchored in resilience and indigenous innovation. To maintain operational capacity amid growing Chinese military pressure, Taipei now aims to strategically invest in T-Dome. By 2026, Taiwan plans to push defense spending past 3 percent of GDP, targeting 5 percent by 2030.

The urgency in Taiwan demonstrated by the T-Dome is clear. Beijing now asserts sovereignty over Taiwan and continues to refuse to rule out the use of force to achieve unification. Throughout 2025, the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) significantly expanded its operational reach around Taiwan. The Chinese air force deployed advanced fighter jets such as the J-10, J-16, and J-20, which can now reach Taiwan from bases deep within China without refueling. Taiwan’s Ministry of National Defense reported that PLA aircraft entered Taiwan’s air defense identification zone (ADIZ) over 245 times per month in 2025, a steep increase from fewer than 10 times per month five years earlier. Alongside its increased intrusion into the ADIZ, it is estimated that PLA aircraft are crossing the Taiwan Strait median line roughly 120 times monthly, marking unprecedented levels of military pressure on Taiwan.

This heightened activity reached a new peak in early April 2025, when the PLA conducted its largest exercise to date, ‘Strait Thunder-2025A’ on April 1–2. This operation, the biggest since 2024’s ‘Joint Sword 2024B,’ further escalated tensions across the strait while politically propagandizing the Lai administration as ‘verminous insects’ conspiring for ‘Taiwan independence.’ The exercise simulated precision strikes against Taiwan’s energy infrastructure and ports, involving 76 aircraft sorties (37 crossing the Taiwan Strait median line), over 15 naval vessels including the Shandong carrier group, and coast guard ships extending outside the First Island Chain. The increasing instances of escalatory activities are part of the PLA’s broader “gray zone” campaign, designed to exhaust Taiwan’s defenses without triggering open warfare. Taiwan’s Defense Ministry analyzes that China is honing such capabilities for a possible military operation as early as 2027, aligned with major PLA modernization milestones.

The U.S. continuously seeks peace and stability in the Taiwan Strait

With respect to Lai’s announcement of the T-Dome, the U.S. Department of State expressed continuous American support for Taiwan’s efforts to strengthen its defensive and deterrence capabilities. Ensuring peace and stability in the Taiwan Strait remains the United States’ highest priority and serves as the fundamental purpose of the Taiwan Relations Act (TRA). Enacted by the U.S. Congress in 1979, following President Jimmy Carter’s formal recognition of the People’s Republic of China, the TRA provides the essential legal framework that guarantees Taiwan’s ability to maintain adequate self-defense capabilities in response to evolving threats. The Act also underpins the continuation of robust U.S. commercial, cultural, and defensive relations with Taiwan. Since its enactment, key developments under the TRA include the establishment of the American Institute in Taiwan, which manages unofficial relations, and congressional mandates ensuring that the United States stays prepared to effectively respond to any threats to Taiwan’s security.

No one in Asia wants a de Gaulle — collectively, at least

In October 2025, Sanae Takaichi made history as the first woman to lead Japan’s Liberal Democratic Party, positioning herself to become the country’s first female prime minister. Her ascent breaks a longstanding political glass ceiling, yet her alignment with Shinzo Abe’s revisionist nationalism raises a critical question within Japan’s strategic circles: will Takaichi advance a revisionist, minilateral ‘coalition of the willing’ approach, or will she endorse a broader Asian adaptation of a NATO-style multilateral framework under the U.S. nuclear umbrella, thereby grounding cooperation in historical reflection and pacifist principles with neighboring countries—and in doing so, redefine the path set by her centrist predecessor, Shigeru Ishiba? The emergence of de Gaulle-like figures in the Indo-Pacific poses challenges not only to U.S. interests but also to those of most Asian countries, making this strategic choice consequential for the region’s future architecture.

In September 2024, outgoing Prime Minister Ishiba laid out a comprehensive vision in an op-ed for the Hudson Institute, proposing the creation of an ‘Asian NATO.’ Stressing the widespread post-Ukraine sentiment that “Ukraine today is Asia tomorrow,” Ishiba warned that the absence of a collective self-defense system comparable to NATO in Asia heightens the risk of conflict because no formal obligation for mutual defense exists among regional partners. He thus argued for institutionalizing a new regional security framework, explaining that “if these alliances are upgraded, a hub-and-spoke system, with the Japan-U.S. alliance at its core, will be established, and in the future, it will be possible to develop the alliance into an Asian version of NATO.”

While Ishiba’s proposal reflected his nationalist impulse to anchor any such structure around the U.S.-Japan alliance, his advocacy for moderate multilateralism implied a broader strategic evolution—from the U.S.-centric ‘hub-and-spoke’ model toward a value-chained, ‘spoke-to-spoke’ framework linking Indo-Pacific partners. Critics, however, noted that his essay lacked a clear articulation of how Japan could build the necessary like-mindedness with neighboring states to sustain such institution-building efforts. In his commemorative speech marking the 80th anniversary of the end of World War II, Ishiba offered a clue, emphasizing that future cooperation must be grounded in historical reflection: “We must not repeat the mistakes of steering the nation astray by prioritizing emotional and sentimental judgments over rational ones.”

Growing U.S. Consensus Over Asian NATO

When Ishiba first presented the concept to U.S. security policy circles, the State Department responded cautiously. Daniel Kritenbrink, Assistant Secretary of State for East Asia and the Pacific, commented, “It’s too early to talk about collective security in that context, and [the creation of] more formal institutions.” He did, however, acknowledge the importance of the U.S. continuing “to invest in the region’s existing formal architecture and continuing to build this network of formal and informal relationships,” which serves to prevent allies from retreating into isolated, ‘go-it-alone’ postures through enhanced collective deterrence, rapid military response, intelligence sharing, and joint logistics.

The restrained discourse surrounding a potential Asian NATO that prevailed under the Biden administration has shifted noticeably with the advent of the second Trump administration. Elbridge Colby—principal architect of the 2018 National Defense Strategy and now serving as Under Secretary of Defense for Policy—has rolled out a conservative multilateral framework of ‘collective defense,’ rooted in the Trumpian logic of ‘peace through strength’ and ‘burden-sharing.’ In a post on X commemorating the 80th anniversary of the end of World War II, Colby sketched out how collective defense could take shape in the Indo-Pacific, asserting that “everyone must contribute and be prepared to bear the weight of collective defense,” and adding that “Pacifism is not the answer. To the contrary, peace through strength is. That is the policy we are carrying to our allies in the Asia-Pacific.” He further linked this message to the imperative of defense-industrial resilience, emphasizing that “the lessons of war are clear: our military must be prepared to fight and defend against aggression toward its core interests, especially in Asia,” and stressing the need for “an industrial base to support it.”

Complementing Colby’s assertive posture, Ely Ratner—who served as Assistant Secretary of Defense for Indo-Pacific Security Affairs under the Biden administration—advanced a related, though more institutionalist, argument during a recent Carnegie Endowment podcast. Ratner contended that the prevailing minilateral ‘hub-and-spoke’ architecture remains too informal to sustain the level of operational integration required among the United States, Japan, Australia, and the Philippines. Echoing Colby’s concern for alliance durability, he urged U.S. allies to pursue Reciprocal Access Agreements(RAAs) that would institutionalize joint military exercises and foster deeper multilateral coordination across the Indo-Pacific.

Ishiba’s proposal has garnered cautious yet growing interest among U.S. officials, who view it as harmonizing with efforts to deepen Indo-Pacific multilateral cooperation by emphasizing alliance cohesion, burden-sharing, and institutionalized collaboration that complements existing commitments without overextending U.S. obligations. Although the concept often faces skepticism outside the U.S., especially from India and ASEAN states protective of their strategic autonomy, some interest groups even within these non-aligned countries may find it politico-economically advantageous.

Politico-Economic Benefits: from Critical Minerals to Unified Threat Perception

Despite its contentious nature, the current Indo-Pacific geopolitical climate is conducive to fostering a unified strategic voice through Asian NATO, especially among like-minded states; China’s rising hegemonic ambitions increasingly manifest in unilateral military incursions using ‘grey zone’ tactics that stop short of open conflict, while its strategic use of economic leverage compels neighbors to diversify trade and stabilize fragile supply chains.

If realized, an Asian NATO would offer multiple substantive benefits: an institutionally stable supply chain network, formalized mechanisms for building and sustaining trust among members independent of regime changes, and a unified, enduring threat perception against China.

Critical Minerals and Defense Supply Chains

Drawing from NATO’s cooperation on critical minerals, the 2024 Defence-Critical Supply Chain Security Roadmap identifies twelve essential Critical Raw Materials vital for defense industries, such as aluminum, graphite, cobalt, and rare earth elements. These materials underpin advanced military capabilities—from lightweight aircraft and missiles to stealth submarine components and jet engine superalloys. With China controlling 60–90% of global processing capacity for many of these materials, NATO’s strategy focuses on diversifying supply through partnerships with allies like Australia and Canada, boosting domestic production, maintaining strategic stockpiles, advancing recycling technologies, and researching substitutes. The roadmap, in sum, emphasizes coordinated procurement policies and market oversight to guard against supply manipulation. Emulating this model, an Asian NATO would institutionalize reciprocal commitments and protect critical infrastructure to ensure resilient, uninterrupted military and civilian supply chains, thereby countering geopolitical risks and enhancing regional readiness.

Institutionalizing Trust Across Regime Changes

Trust among Asian NATO members would be formalized through institutional mechanisms designed to remain resilient across political transitions. NATO’s 32 members maintain trust through nearly a few hundred standardized joint military exercises conducted annually, integrated command structures, and binding mutual defense commitments under Article 5. These mechanisms build predictability and habitual cooperation despite political shifts. According to Pew Research survey data, public opinion in NATO member states remains largely favorable, with a median of 66% viewing the alliance positively, reflecting broad underlying support for NATO’s continuity despite political changes. This institutionalized, recurrent engagement effectively counters fragmentation risks common in informal regional groupings, providing a robust framework that an Asian NATO would seek to emulate.

Sustaining Unified Threat Perception

Most significantly, an Asian NATO’s formal institutionalization would sustain an enduring collective threat perception regarding China by coordinating surveillance of China’s expanding military presence and coercive policies throughout the Indo-Pacific. NATO’s pre-summit polling results released in June 2024 identified China’s ambitions as a central challenge; recent polling shows that roughly 48% of respondents in NATO countries hold an unfavorable view of China, while only 14% view China favorably, highlighting broad concern about China’s role as a security threat among the alliance’s populations. Similarly, an Asian NATO could create an enduring unified voice, with member states collectively recognizing that China’s aggressive activities in the South and East China Seas and its increased military capabilities near Taiwan deepen distrust and warrant coordinated responses.

Future Challenges: Mission Specialization and Public Acceptance

As the strategic option of creating an Asian NATO becomes geopolitically favorable, security experts emphasize the necessity of bilateral Reciprocal Access Agreements(RAA) and Visiting Force Agreements(VFA) among like-minded Asian countries as foundational steps. Public acceptance of these frameworks constitutes a vital test for trust-building. The United States must therefore carefully guide mission specialization to achieve public approval and strengthen regional security cooperation.

Within NATO, mission specialization among Germany, Turkey, and the United Kingdom illustrates how divergent but complementary capabilities build alliance cohesion and trust. Germany specializes in armored and mechanized ground forces, providing essential heavy land defense capabilities anchored in European theater security. Turkey, strategically located at the crossroads of Europe and Asia, offers versatile contributions including robust land forces, strong missile defense capabilities, maritime and air policing, and commands key missions such as KFOR in Kosovo, thereby enhancing NATO’s southern flank deterrence and operational reach. The United Kingdom, drawing on its expeditionary legacy, excels in naval power through aircraft carriers and submarines, and fields elite special operations forces enabling rapid crisis response.

The United States has historically facilitated a balance among these members by encouraging Germany’s continental ground force focus, leveraging Turkey’s geographic and operational versatility, and integrating the United Kingdom’s maritime and special forces expertise. This deliberate specialization avoided duplication, fostered operational complementarity, and built the mutual trust necessary for public and intergovernmental approval of Reciprocal Access Agreements and Visiting Force Agreements, which provide NATO with the operational framework for deployment and defense cooperation.

For the Indo-Pacific, the United States should encourage tailored specialization aligned with geography and strategic needs within flexible minilateral frameworks rather than formal alliances. By fostering transparency, interoperability, and joint capacity-building, Washington can help regional partners develop complementary defense roles. Such an approach would gradually build the public trust and political legitimacy required for broader reciprocal access arrangements—without triggering the sensitivities associated with an overt “Asian NATO.”

  From the battlefields of Idlib to the quiet ruins of Aleppo, Syria today stands as a paradox of survival—a nation ruled by the illusion of reform while imprisoned by the same machinery of coercion that tore it apart. Nearly fifteen years after the uprising began, the country is divided not only by geography but by truth itself: the truth of who governs, who suffers, and who still hopes that change is possible. The latest incarnation of power in Damascus and Idlib—the so-called “interim government” led by Ahmed al-Sharaa—promises reconstruction and moderation. Yet what it delivers is continuity: the same militant hierarchy dressed in civilian costume, the same war economy disguised as administration, and the same dependence on violence presented as stability.   Behind every speech about governance and recovery lies the legacy of jihad. Ahmed al-Sharaa, once known as Abu Mohammad al-Jolani, rose from the ranks of al-Qaeda in Iraq, pledged allegiance to Ayman al-Zawahiri, and later led al-Nusra Front before rebranding his movement as Hay’at Tahrir al-Sham. His ideological transformation, celebrated by some as pragmatism, is in fact a tactical metamorphosis designed to survive—not to reform. When he split from al-Qaeda, it was not because he renounced jihadist doctrine but because global pressure demanded a new façade. The result is a system that maintains the language of extremism while courting legitimacy from the very world it once declared war upon.   Two successive leaders of the Islamic State—Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi and Abu Ibrahim al-Hashimi al-Qurashi—were both killed inside al-Sharaa’s territory. Such coincidence is impossible without complicity. Either the leader of Syria’s northwest knew they were there and sheltered them, or he lacked any control over his own domain. In both cases, the claim to legitimacy collapses. A government that emerges from this soil can only reproduce the logic of the underground: secrecy, loyalty, and fear.   Within this environment, governance becomes an instrument of survival rather than service. The administrative structures in Idlib mimic the forms of a state—ministries, courts, police—but their substance remains coercive. Amnesty International, Human Rights Watch, and independent Syrian monitors describe the same pattern: arbitrary detentions, disappearances, censorship, forced morality codes, and restrictions on women. These are not the errors of an immature democracy but the deliberate instruments of control. Economic life follows the same logic. Markets are monopolized by HTS-linked businessmen; cross-border trade through Bab al-Hawa is taxed like a fiefdom; humanitarian aid is repackaged and resold. What was once jihad for ideology has become jihad for profit.   To the outside world, al-Sharaa’s rhetoric of moderation is seductive. Western diplomats, weary of endless conflict, see in him a potential partner—a Sunni leader who might counterbalance Iranian influence. But the illusion collapses under law. Al-Sharaa remains designated by the U.S. Treasury as a Specially Designated Global Terrorist under Executive Order 13224. That label is not symbolic; it freezes his assets, bans his travel, and criminalizes any financial dealings with him. International reconstruction institutions—the IMF, World Bank, and UN development agencies—cannot legally transact with a government he leads. Under such conditions, Syria’s recovery becomes impossible. Every foreign investor faces the same barrier: to build in Idlib is to finance terrorism.   The paradox deepens when one considers al-Sharaa’s diplomacy. He now speaks of cooperation with Iran, the same power his movement once anathematized. He reaches out to Turkey and Qatar while suppressing pro-Turkish factions within his own ranks. His ideological compass spins toward whoever offers protection. In that shifting opportunism, Syria’s sovereignty dissolves. The country becomes an arena where foreign patrons trade influence over the ruins of a state. Tehran uses Syria as a corridor to Lebanon; Ankara sees it as a buffer against the Kurds; Moscow defends its Mediterranean base; Washington maintains its sanctions. None of them offer a roadmap to peace.   Yet amid this exhaustion, a new figure has re-entered the conversation—Brigadier General Manaf Tlass, a career officer once close to Bashar al-Assad, who defected in 2012 and refused to take part in the regime’s massacres. Tlass represents an idea long absent from Syrian discourse: that change can come from professionalism, not ideology. His proposal for a Transitional Military Council seeks to unite defected army officers, Kurdish representatives, and moderate opposition under one national command. The aim is not conquest but reconstruction—a neutral force that can secure cease-fire zones, disarm militias, and prepare the country for civilian governance under UN Resolution 2254.   Unlike those who weaponized faith, Tlass speaks the language of citizenship. He does not deny the crimes of the Assad era; he acknowledges them as the price of silence. He calls for transitional justice, truth commissions, and the reintegration of refugees. For the first time in years, a Syrian voice speaks not in the name of sect or faction, but of a state that belongs to all. It is not charisma that sets him apart but coherence: a man who understands both the army he served and the people it betrayed.   The contrast between the two men—al-Sharaa and Tlass—captures the essence of Syria’s choice. One promises salvation through continuity, the other through change. One is anchored in illegality, the other in legitimacy. The first offers a future of permanent militias and economic dependency; the second imagines the revival of national institutions and a secular order. The world, too, faces a choice. To engage with a terrorist administration is to endorse paralysis. To support a transitional structure is to risk involvement—but also to create the first conditions for peace.   The consequences of inaction are not abstract. Every month that Idlib remains under HTS control, new generations grow up in a culture of surveillance and indoctrination. Schools teach obedience instead of thought. Young men find identity only in arms. Women disappear behind walls of fear. Refugees lose hope of return because the Syria that awaits them no longer resembles a homeland. A conflict once defined by ideology has turned into one of demography: the replacement of citizens with subjects, of belonging with submission.   For the international community, moral clarity must precede political convenience. The question is no longer whether al-Sharaa can be “moderated,” but whether the world is willing to normalize a state that criminalizes dissent and profits from chaos. The price of appeasement is measured not only in dollars but in generations. Every compromise with illegitimacy deepens the conviction that violence pays.   Syria’s salvation will not come from slogans of reform or selective diplomacy. It will come from the re-creation of lawful authority, the re-establishment of institutions, and the recognition that no peace can stand on foundations of terror. The path outlined by Manaf Tlass is not perfect, but it is practicable. It builds on existing military structures, introduces accountability, and aligns with international law. It restores the idea that a Syrian state can exist without fear.   Fifteen years of war have turned Syria into a laboratory of despair. Its people have endured chemical attacks, siege, hunger, and betrayal. Yet within that devastation survives a stubborn will to live. The bazaar still opens, children still learn, and music still drifts from the cafés of Damascus and Hama. What they await is not another faction, but the return of a state.   Between illusion and renewal, Syria stands at its narrowest bridge. The mirage of reform cannot forever substitute for justice. The international community must decide whether it prefers the comfort of denial or the challenge of reconstruction. History will not remember who held Idlib; it will remember who dared to rebuild Syria.                                                                

Missile Types Used Against Civilian Population Centres

There would be little doubt from the audience who are watching The Sopranos that when one Tony’s crew is directed to do a hit on someone, that the order came directly from the Tony. This common and basic concept is of course the same in criminal law. When a crime is connected and directed by another coordinated source, the agent committing the crime is the extended arm of the one who directed the crime, as are all agents in law. This basic concept that is understood in many forms does not seem to enter the realm of international relations for some unfortunately, despite it always been a set law in their own legal codes.

When the concept of halting military actions takes place, the expectation is that both sides of a conflict would end their aggression. Reasonably, a failure to do so would illicit an equal and appropriate response following any violation of this agreement. It comes as a surprise that over the last while, the persistent ballistic missile fire and anti-shipping artillery arrives at the end of conflicts deemed complete, and the silence seems to be broken only for a moment despite aggression ever increasing.

There is no better examples of the post Fordow policy of the international community than the silence on direct attacks and abuses against sailors and ships operating in the Red Sea. While Iran backed Houthis continue to normalise ballistic missile attacks into population centres and the targeting of civilians, acts tantamount to the most aggressive of Russian crimes in Ukraine, Western powers massage narratives while their allies sink into bunkers and their ships sink into the Red Sea. The death of sailors by drones and anti-ship missiles shows that when you cease, they fire, and the European Union’s placating of terror to the point of ignoring their own killed and kidnapped sailors leaves little faith that they will protect their own interests. Peace through placating known threats does more to enable conflict than ensure a ceased conflict, and at this late point in the game, its time to start playing. While the US Administration’s efforts deserve every ounce of respect for their good faith actions to end many of these diverse global conflicts, allowing threats to metastasize will eventually destroy any productive efforts and achievements for the Administration.

Western allies are perhaps at their weakest point in modern history in 2025. While a massive push for a multilevel peace initiative took place in Egypt with many of the political actors in the region and from abroad, recent harms from placative policies were brushed aside and claims were made that failed policy lead to peace. It can be claimed that delusional policies can be excused if they fail, as to error is human, but this is not a valid measure. In legal examples the concept of negligence takes claims of lack of ability to the edge of intent, and it is hard to believe that with so much evidence to the contrary, that such a policy comes from a place of ignorance. To this question of intent, any actions agreed upon need to take place with an understanding of allies and adversaries, where adversaries to peace should play no role in the process as their intent will never bring calm to the region. Perhaps this was always the case.

When faith defies reason — and the battle for sacred land becomes a mirror of humanity’s broken order.

By autumn 2025, the Middle East is no longer governed by the old rules. On September 29, U.S. President Donald Trump unveiled his Gaza Peace Plan — a meticulously designed, technocratic roadmap promising ceasefire, withdrawal, hostage release, disarmament, and international oversight.

But the plan failed instantly. Not because of poor drafting, but because it tried to impose rational logic on a sacred conflict — one shaped by divine destiny and existential struggle rather than political pragmatism.

For one side, the fight is jihad and salvation; for the other, divine promise and survival. To speak of “committees” and “transitional governance” in such a space is to speak the wrong language.

Hamas formally accepted the plan, but added “conditions”: Jerusalem and Al-Aqsa are not negotiable; The movement’s identity as resistance is untouchable; Weapons could only be handed to a future Palestinian state; Disarmament would come only “after occupation ends” — meaning Israel’s very existence. Thus, the agreement was symbolic at best, and hollow in practice.

While liberal democracies tried to enforce their “universal values,” the rest of the world built an alternative architecture. BRICS and the Shanghai Cooperation Organization now speak for half of humanity, openly rejecting Western monopoly.

The Westphalian concept of equality among nations is fading. In its place stands a new order of competing blocs, where sovereignty is earned, not guaranteed — and where deals between powers matter more than principles. Israel, positioned between faith, identity, and geopolitics, has become the fault line of this fracture.

Trump’s peace plan was perfect on paper but dead on arrival. It was technically flawless but politically impossible. A ceasefire, troop withdrawal, 72-hour hostage release, amnesty for fighters, external oversight — are all logical steps that ignored the core truth: religious conviction trumps rational compromise.

For Hamas, disarmament is blasphemy. For Israel’s religious nationalists, surrendering land is betrayal. Two absolutes faced each other — and reason was crushed between them.

The October 7, 2023 massacre didn’t just ignite war; they split Israel’s soul in two. On the one side is Liberal Israel — urban, secular, anchored in democracy and human rights, which sees the conflict as a moral test. With rising casualties and growing isolation, 66% of Israelis now say the war should end.

On the other side is Religious-nationalist Israel — the settlers, the messianic right, who views compromise as heresy. For them, divine promise overrides diplomacy. “This is our land by God’s decree,” Israel’s Finance Minister Bezalel Smotrich declared. Institutions meant to stand above politics — the IDF, Shin Bet, judiciary — have lost neutrality after years of political appointments. Pragmatism is gone; ideology rules.

Two Israel’s now coexist in one state — but only one will define its future. This is Israel’s ontological revolution, which is a struggle between secular, liberal, rational and Western Israel against religious Zionist Israel, which is theological, prophetic and absolute.

 A pragmatic middle — embodied by the army and Likud — tries to mediate, shifting tone between audiences: democracy for Washington, security for voters at home. October 7 shattered that fragile code-switching.

Polls reveal the transformation:

  72% support “whatever force necessary”;

  Support for the two-state solution has plunged from 43% to 24%;

  The line between combatants and civilians is fading fast.

The moral foundation of Israel’s Western legitimacy is crumbling — and Netanyahu, instead of restraining the drift, has accelerated it.

Religious Zionism and Hamas now reflect each other’s logic. Each sees itself as divinely chosen, each views the other as evil incarnate, and each rejects human law. Both sanctify martyrdom, both deny compromise. This is not civilization versus barbarism — it is two theologies of total victory staring at their own reflections.

Hamas’s attack was not a traditional war. It was a trap designed to make Israel confirm every accusation ever made against it. Unspeakable atrocities forced Israel into overwhelming retaliation; civilian casualties followed; global outrage exploded — and Israeli society turned further right. Hamas loses the battlefield but wins the narrative. The far right gains strength. Moderates disappear.

The liberal “script” — human rights, proportionality, international law — has burned away. Neither side recognizes neutral authority. The UN and Geneva Conventions are powerless. Moderates are silent; extremists speak in the name of God. There’s no longer a shared language of reason — only faith and fury.

The Dor Moriah Institute, led by analyst Igor Kaminnyk, surveyed Israelis in August 2025. The data reveal a stunning reality:

  41.1% heard of the Trump-Putin summit in Alaska — and didn’t care.

  28.9% didn’t even know it happened.

  Only 6% believed it achieved anything.

Experts saw existential stakes — Iran, global power balance — but citizens shrugged. The gap between elite anxiety and public indifference was vast.

Meanwhile, Israel’s right-wing media declared a new doctrine:

“America as partner — yes. At any price? No.”

“Dependence is dangerous.”

“Israel must act alone.”

Thus emerged a new strategic reflex — solitude by choice. In a world of uncertain alliances, Israelis are learning to trust only themselves. Smotrich called Trump’s plan “a tragic leadership failure” and “return to Oslo’s illusions.” Ben-Gvir was uncharacteristically silent — but his circle fumed over prisoner releases and recognition of the Palestinian Authority.

  Likud MK Amit Halevi insisted “nothing short of total control over Gaza” will do. Yossi Dagan, from Washington, warned against “creating a terror state in the heart of Israel.” Hamas sources described the plan as “a declaration of defeat,” demanding guarantees for their own immunity.  Netanyahu, ever the tactician, dodged a government vote to keep the coalition intact — approving only the hostage deal. The right protests. Hamas hesitates. Netanyahu smiles. Another day in the Middle East.

The Gaza war has become the world’s mirror. It exposes the paralysis of the UN, the decay of the “rules-based order,” and the shift of the Arab world toward BRICS and SCO. Israel now stands as a microcosm of global breakdown — where faith, identity, and raw power matter more than treaties and resolutions.

Trump’s plan will remain a diplomatic ghost — admired on paper, ignored in practice. Hamas will delay, Israel’s coalition will wobble, Netanyahu will maneuver. The war will end eventually — by exhaustion or by escalation. But the age of rational peace is over. The world has entered an era where belief, not logic, defines politics.

Israel is not just fighting a war — it is acting out humanity’s larger fracture. Liberal universalism has lost its grip; sacred identities have returned to the center of world politics. You cannot negotiate theology with spreadsheets. The next global order will need a new language — one that speaks to the sacred without surrendering to it. Until then, Israel remains the holy fault line of our broken world — where faith defies reason, and compromise itself has come to an end.

A press conference was organized in Brussels in front of the European Parliament by a coalition of International and European organizations as well as human rights and women’s rights advocates to shed the light on the humanitarian crisis in Sudan which is one of the biggest crises of our times and to call on the international community to act now to stop the war and implement a peace plan in the region.

The press conference stressed the fact that the use of chemical weapons by the Sudanese Armed forces against civilians must stop now and that foreign support of the Islamist army must end, particularly by Egypt.

Ramon Rahangmetan Co-Founder of circle of Sustainable Europe, mentioned that “The use of chemical weapons is not only a war crime, it is a moral red line that defines whether humanity still governs.”. He highlighted that the use of chemical weapons by the Sudanese government was determined by US department of State, independent journalists of France 24 and reports from humanitarian organizations and that we should demand accountability and strengthen sanctions against enablers.

Amina Nsenga ,author and women’s rights advocate, mentioned the threat that women and children go through in Sudan and the suffering of civilians under this conflict which is unfortunately not highlighted in the media. Sudanese women are victims of rape, physical and psychological traumas and they are completely excluded from decision-making. The EU leaders must act now to protect women and girls and protect their mental health and well-being.

Journalists and human rights defenders pointed out that after the Arab spring, Sudan fought for freedom and democracy and hoped for a better future for young people and women. However, the rise of Muslim Brotherhood to power destroyed the dream of the Sudanese people of a free and a democratic society. It is regrettable that Egypt which has been fighting against Muslim Brotherhood is now supporting Islamists in Sudan which is contradictory and hypocritical. Islamists should be eliminated everywhere and there is a need to protect the lives of Sudanese people as well as their fundamental freedoms and rights.

Jamil Maqsoud, head of the UKPNP reminded that the world should stand by women and girls fighting against oppression and dictatorship as well as extremism which is the case in Pakistan and Afghanistan as well as Sudan.

 Women rights activists highlighted the need to end violence against women and girls and stop using rape as a war weapon as well as starvation as a tool of pressure on civilians which the SAF uses constantly by blocking humanitarian aid and calls on international community to act to facilitate humanitarian aid which is blocked by countries which support the Sudanese army.

Representatives from Bangladesh, Iran, and Afghanistan in Europe mentioned the need to support secular voices and women’s rights in conflict zones and particularly in Sudan as well as stop Islamist extremism which threatens peace and security not only in the Middle East, Africa and South Asia but also worldwide.

 

In an era when global alliances are shifting faster than treaties can keep up, the relationship among Azerbaijan, Turkey, and Pakistan has become a rare example of strategic continuity. Born from cultural kinship and historical friendship, the “Three Brothers” partnership has gradually evolved from emotional solidarity into a working platform of political coordination. Yet its newest dimension — parliamentary cooperation — also invites a closer look at how ideals, institutions, and interests intersect across three very different political systems.   The parliamentary meeting in Islamabad in October 2025 marked a symbolic milestone but also a practical test. For years, cooperation among the three states had been driven by presidents, generals, and ministers. The adoption of the Islamabad Declaration extended that cooperation into the legislative sphere, aiming to translate diplomatic intent into law and oversight. It was less a revolutionary step than a cautious institutionalization of a friendship that already had strong foundations. Each parliament promised to promote joint initiatives in defense, trade, energy, and culture, but the real measure of success will lie in sustained implementation rather than declarations.   To make parliamentary oversight truly effective, the Islamabad framework now envisions several concrete mechanisms: joint parliamentary monitoring committees, annual progress reviews, and performance benchmarks aligned with national development goals. These tools are designed to ensure that resolutions on trade, education, and defense cooperation produce verifiable results—such as the growth of trilateral trade volumes, the establishment of educational exchange programs, and transparent reporting to a standing trilateral parliamentary secretariat. Such benchmarks convert symbolic alignment into measurable governance, making institutionalization not only aspirational but operational.   The roots of this trilateral bond run deep. During the 44-Day Patriotic War, Turkey and Pakistan supported Azerbaijan’s defense of sovereignty and territorial integrity, aligning their voices at international forums. Since then, cooperation has matured beyond wartime solidarity. Votes at the UN, consultations on security, and shared positions on international law now reflect an evolving alignment based on principle. As President Ilham Aliyev once noted, these nations “stand together for sovereignty, territorial integrity, and justice.” That sense of justice continues to frame their partnership, though it operates within the realities of modern geopolitics.   Those realities are complex. The three countries approach the world from distinct strategic positions: Turkey balances its NATO commitments with regional autonomy; Pakistan navigates a fragile relationship with India and periodic tensions with Western partners; Azerbaijan maintains a delicate equilibrium among Russia, Iran, and the West. Their “brotherhood” provides political comfort but not automatic policy alignment. Economic competition, defense-procurement limits, and external pressures all shape what is possible. The real strength of the alliance lies in coordination despite differences, not in the absence of them.   The economic and structural asymmetry among the three also matters. Turkey’s industrial base and diversified economy give it natural leadership capacity. Azerbaijan’s energy wealth provides leverage and connectivity, while Pakistan’s size and strategic location bring demographic weight but also fiscal fragility. Far from undermining the partnership, these imbalances define its realism: each country contributes a distinct asset—technology, energy, or human capital—that complements the others.   Parliamentary diplomacy, though modest in influence compared with executive authority, has a role to play. In states where foreign policy remains executive-driven, legislatures can still build continuity, exchange expertise, and support legal frameworks for long-term projects. Through oversight tools such as budget reviews, inter-parliamentary working groups, and thematic hearings, lawmakers can track the implementation of trilateral projects and recommend adjustments. The success of parliamentary engagement can thus be evaluated through concrete indicators — including the number of joint resolutions enacted, cooperative educational programs launched, or defense-industrial initiatives monitored through shared reporting.   External reactions to this trilateral format are mixed, and any honest analysis must acknowledge them. India views Pakistan’s participation with suspicion; Iran and Russia, both central actors in the region, watch cautiously as transport and energy corridors develop that may bypass their traditional routes. Western partners, including the EU and the US, see opportunities in expanded connectivity but remain alert to new geopolitical groupings that might complicate their own regional initiatives. The success of the “Three Brothers” therefore depends on diplomacy that is inclusive rather than exclusionary — cooperation that complements rather than competes with wider networks such as the OIC, ECO, or SCO.   Historically, the bond among the three has not always been linear. Periods of close solidarity have alternated with moments of limited coordination, shaped by domestic change and shifting power balances. The post-2020 environment—after Azerbaijan’s restoration of control over its territories—offered new momentum. The meetings in Lachin and Islamabad symbolize a transition from symbolic friendship to structured engagement, yet the continuity of that process will depend on how deeply societies, not just states, remain involved.   Looking forward, the sustainability of this brotherhood will hinge on institutional depth. Permanent parliamentary commissions, youth exchanges, and academic cooperation could anchor it beyond the political cycles of each country. Engaging women legislators and civil organizations would broaden its base and translate strategic narratives into social understanding. Success, ultimately, should be measured by outcomes — tangible increases in cross-border trade, defense cooperation, and legislative harmonization — tracked annually by the trilateral secretariat. In this sense, parliamentary diplomacy is not the engine of foreign policy but the conscience of it — a reminder that alliances endure only when citizens recognize their value.   Ultimately, the partnership among Azerbaijan, Turkey, and Pakistan is best understood not as an exclusive bloc but as a case study in adaptive regionalism. It shows how nations with distinct alignments can find convergence through shared history, pragmatic interests, and respect for sovereignty. Its success will not be measured by rhetoric but by its ability to navigate friction, expand trade, and contribute to stability from the Caucasus to South Asia. The “Three Brothers” story, now entering a new institutional chapter, reflects the enduring truth of modern diplomacy: real friendship is tested not by comfort, but by complexity.

 

On August 8, 2025, Washington hosted a landmark meeting where Azerbaijan and Armenia signed a U.S.-brokered peace agreement—an event that not only nudged the South Caucasus closer to a durable settlement, but also shifted calculations across the Caspian. Reuters reported the White House ceremony as a breakthrough likely to unsettle Moscow’s traditional sway in the region.   Beyond the headlines, this deal—and the transport link at its core—reframes routes, energy policy, and power balances from the Caucasus across Central Asia. The question is whether the promise of connectivity can outpace the frictions of geopolitics.   A central feature of the agreement is a new transit link across southern Armenia, officially branded the Trump Route for International Peace and Prosperity (TRIPP), designed to connect mainland Azerbaijan with Nakhchivan. U.S. development rights and operational involvement make the project more than a road: it is a political instrument and a supply-chain corridor rolled into one, according to Reuters reporting.   Ankara publicly welcomed the corridor, emphasizing that TRIPP would operate under Armenian law—a sovereignty reassurance meant to defuse domestic and regional anxieties even as the U.S. role grows.   Meanwhile, Jamestown Foundation analysis captured an important detail: Washington and Yerevan envisage an “exclusive partnership” framework for up to 99 years, with an Armenia–U.S. company managing the route’s business operations—language that Armenia’s leadership says preserves sovereignty over the road itself.   First, TRIPP sits atop a wider turn toward connectivity. The Caspian’s “Middle Corridor” (TITR) has surged as states seek routes that bypass checkpoints. Jamestown noted freight volumes on the Trans-Caspian route jumped dramatically in 2024, with Azerbaijan pivotal to that growth.   Second, energy leverage is at stake. Brussels and Baku have been working to expand the Southern Gas Corridor as Europe pivots away from Russian gas. Reuters and the European Commission highlighted the corridor’s strategic value and the financing bottlenecks that must be overcome.   Third, security dynamics on the inland sea are evolving. Jamestown documented how Azerbaijan, Kazakhstan, and Turkmenistan have expanded security cooperation, reducing Moscow’s ability to dictate outcomes alone.   Fourth, climate and logistics matter. Reuters reported Azerbaijan’s warning that falling Caspian water levels are forcing costly dredging to keep tankers moving—showing how natural limits can undermine otherwise sound projects.   Moscow publicly welcomed the U.S.-brokered deal yet warned against “foreign meddling,” signaling acceptance of de-escalation coupled with red lines about who shapes the region’s rules.   Tehran’s reaction has been mixed: welcoming peace between Baku and Yerevan in principle while expressing unease about a U.S.-involved corridor along its border.   For Armenia, TRIPP offers an economic shot in the arm—but politics will decide the pace. Jamestown pointed to fierce domestic criticism and the shadow of June 2026 elections, with constitutional and legal debates likely to shape implementation.   For Azerbaijan, the corridor consolidates long-sought connectivity and enhances Baku’s role as a transit and energy hub. Reuters framed the Washington signing as both a prestige and logistics win.   The Washington Summit has pushed peace closer in the Caucasus and rewired calculations across the Caspian. If implemented transparently and inclusively, TRIPP and related corridors could redefine trade and security for decades. If mishandled, they risk becoming flashpoints on a new geopolitical chessboard.

 

On 14 September 2025, Shusha hosted the 1st Assembly of the Turkic World Insurance Union (TWIU)—a milestone bringing together supervisors, associations and market leaders from Turkic states under the umbrella of the Organization of Turkic States (OTS). The meeting’s symbolism was clear; its economic intent even clearer: align rules, deepen re/insurance capacity and cut frictions in cross-border cover.     Delegates signed a joint Proclamation to re-form the Union on OTS principles, with five founding members and three observers (Hungary, Turkmenistan and the TRNC). The stated aims: structured exchange of expertise and data, systematic formation of reinsurance ties, and a roadmap for sustainable growth of member markets.   The event’s organization—by the Azerbaijan Insurers Association with strategic support from the Central Bank of Azerbaijan and OTS—underlined a public-private partnership model the bloc wants to scale.   Azerbaijan’s insurance metrics offered a first anchor. According to public statements around the Assembly, sector assets rose 12% year-on-year to AZN 2.1 bn by mid-2025; profitability exceeded AZN 80 m, with approximate ROA ~7% and ROE ~25%—indicators of strengthened balance sheets and pricing discipline.     Beyond one market, intra-OTS trade has risen from roughly 3% to ~5–7% of members’ total turnover in recent years—still modest, but moving in the right direction and giving insurers a larger cross-border client base (cargo, liability, project, credit covers).     For global context, reinsurance is about 7% of worldwide net insurance premiums (≈ $312 bn in 2020). A coordinated Turkic risk pool—even if initially small by global standards—could secure better terms from top reinsurers and, over time, place regional insurance-linked securities.     Why a Union Matters (and Where It Gets Hard)   1) Regulatory harmonization. Different solvency regimes, reserving rules and licensing playbooks fragment risk pools. A TWIU “minimum standard”—even if principle-based—would shrink compliance costs and enable passporting for niche lines (e.g., cargo hull, surety, agrisk). Shusha’s Proclamation points in that direction, but execution requires working groups, model laws and supervisory colleges.   2) Data & modelling. Regional pricing still suffers from thin loss histories and uneven catastrophe models. The Union could mandate shared data lakes (anonymized), improve flood/quake modeling and co-fund actuarial capacity. That would narrow the bid-ask spread with reinsurers. (Context: Azerbaijani market growth and reported premium/revenue dynamics signal improving datasets but more depth is needed across the bloc.)     3) Capital depth. Some markets show comfortable capital buffers, yet others remain constrained. A pooled regional reinsurance facility—even with conservative retentions—can smooth shocks, especially for quake-exposed zones. Early phase options: quota-share pools for transport and property, then layered CAT covers once data improves.     4) Cross-border product fit. Trade corridors need portable solutions: CMR/CMI cargo liability, political risk for exporters, project all-risk for infrastructure, credit insurance for SMEs, and health/travel covers for mobile labor. A TWIU-endorsed wording library (English + national languages) would accelerate uptake.   5) Governance & trust. Predictable rules—claims timelines, dispute resolution, and enforcement—lower risk loads. An OTS-linked arbitration panel for insurance disputes would be a quick win.     With trade integration rising, insurance becomes a force multiplier: it crowds in investment by de-risking projects, cushions climate shocks and professionalizes credit flows. A functioning TWIU would deepen the region’s financial market architecture alongside development banks and capital-market initiatives—enhancing the bloc’s geo-economic leverage.     If Shusha’s deliverables stall, the Union risks remaining ceremonial, while multinational incumbents continue to price regional risk on external terms. Divergent rules, patchy data, or politicized claims handling would keep risk premia high. Conversely, disciplined follow-through would let local carriers keep more premium on-shore and buy reinsurance on better terms.     Shusha was not just a photo-op. The convening power of OTS, public confirmation by the Central Bank of Azerbaijan, and a signed Proclamation together mark the institutional birth of a regional insurance project with real economic logic. The question is no longer “why”—it is “how fast.” If 2026 delivers harmonized reporting, a starter reinsurance pool and shared CAT modelling, the Turkic insurance market can move from aspiration to exportable standard.

Soviet made ZSU-23-4, seen here as relics from the Cold War, could be a low cost and effective drone killing system available en masse for future defense.

After incursions into NATO airspace by Russia’s Air and Drone forces over the last few weeks, the united NATO allies have had discussions on creating a mutli-layered air defence shield over Central Europe. This shield, made up of many different coordinated air defense systems, would be a permanent fixture in order to protect and repel Russian and other air threats into Europe. While Ukraine has been able to use most Western and Eastern air defense systems in its conflict with Russia, they are really a patchwork of different modern and old Western systems backing up older Soviet systems spaced out all over Ukraine. While effective to some degree, the mix of systems are not fully coordinated, or have been able to fully stop the various weapons shot into Ukraine’s infrastructure and cities. The coordinated plan is immediately necessary in order to defend NATO territory from new escalations by Russia.

The recent past has shown that extended conflicts are almost always to the detriment of Western and NATO strategy, with the exception of a few cases. The funding of Ukraine’s war effort came with purchases of Russian oil and gas by many of the same countries fighting on the side of NATO, funding both ends of the conflict while asking citizens to fund the war to the tune of billions of dollars. Seeking an end to the conflict when money was being dumped into the conflict would have never produced a scenario to end the fighting. New sanctions on oil purchasers of Russian energy may be sloppy in their application, but it does have the intention of cutting off Russia’s war production funding. Ignoring weapons suppliers to Russia came with the prohibition of technology for abroad for their equipment, but next to nothing was done about the drone threats that are designed as a pure terror weapon. To end a war, you have to first want to win the war.

The Western allies and NATO have a poor historical track record of ending conflicts at an appropriate time. Conflicts that have been dragged into the abyss makes it more difficult to rally an appropriate defense to future aggression. While Russian incursions have taken place, some key NATO allies have actually tried to actively tie the hands of their natural allies when fighting conflicts the West should always fight. The reality of this Quiet War is that it is being waged against common enemies targeting Americans, Europeans, Canadians and Australians at home and abroad. Alienating successful Western forces does nothing but extend their war by their own ally’s hands, and makes a combined effort impossible for their citizens to support. Focusing negatively on those who have the recipe for proper missile defense takes the ignorance and malice of these policies to another level, as its a detriment to allies and ourselves as NATO members in a current hot conflict. To win a war, you have to not work to lose the war.

The Central European Missile Shield requires support from the roots of NATO, its allies, and its core values in order to protect many of the cities we have all lived and worked in in both Central and Western Europe. Allowing incursions and future production of missile threats will ensure a future mass casualty event. Internal divisions in Western nations should be investigated as funding internal strife is as harmful as external incursions. At this point, the narrative is fuelling the conflict further, and this is a key strategic asset for those who want to tear apart the West with their own hand. We currently are allowing this war to be lost.