Space Station And Space Shuttle Orbiting Earth. 3D Animation. Elements of this image furnished by NASA.
In a world where wars are no longer just fought on land, sea, or in the air, Europe’s defence sector is beginning to see the final frontier – space – as the next strategic battleground. With the return of war to European soil, a rising tide of anti-satellite threats, and the increasing militarisation of space by global superpowers, traditional defence companies are now aggressively venturing into orbital territory.
This is not just a symbolic shift. What was once a domain dominated by civilian projects, communications satellites, Earth observation, GPS, has now become critical for strategic autonomy and national security. From Austria to France, from Sweden to Italy, defence players are launching space divisions, dusting off legacy aerospace ambitions, and aligning with broader geopolitical imperatives.
From Civilian to Defence Sector In Space
While the relationship between space and defence is not new, the lines between civilian and military applications were, until recently, clearly drawn. That distinction is now blurring. As the Vienna-based European Space Policy Institute (ESPI) notes, many of today’s leading European space companies are either offshoots of defence conglomerates or embedded within them. But after a lull in the early 2000s, the last three years have witnessed a sharp uptick in defence-led space activities.
According to Matija Rencelj, research manager at ESPI, this shift began accelerating post-2022, with the war in Ukraine serving as a wake-up call. Space, once considered a domain of peaceful exploration, is now being reassessed as a pillar of Europe’s strategic autonomy. And yet, the gap between ambition and action remains painfully wide.
Investment Lag and Capability Gap
The EU currently spends just 0.07% of its GDP, approximately €14 billion annually, on space activities. Contrast that with the United States, China, or even India, and the disparity becomes sharp. Only 15% of Europe’s public space budget is allocated toward defence applications, compared to the global average of about 50%.
To close this capability gap, Rencelj estimates that Europe needs to ramp up investment to at least 0.15–0.25% of its GDP by 2040. But money alone won’t solve the problem. Fragmented national strategies and a lack of cohesive governance at the EU level have long hampered progress.
Christophe Grudler, French MEP and co-chair of the European Parliament’s intergroup on Sky and Space, stresses the need for a unified European approach. “Too many member states are currently working on separate national plans,” he says. “We need programmes designed, funded, and governed at the EU level.” In other words, without integration, Europe risks being outpaced and outclassed in the militarisation of space.
ESA, The Sleeping Giant?
Enter the European Space Agency (ESA), a 23-member consortium with the technical might to compete on a global scale but not yet the financial muscle. ESA’s Director General Josef Aschbacher has been sounding the alarm: Europe can do it, but only if it chooses to. “We have some of the best space engineers and scientists,” Aschbacher said, “and excellent companies of world standard.”
Currently operating on an €8 billion annual budget, roughly one-third of NASA’s and barely rivalling the U.S. Space Force’s spending, ESA has still managed impressive feats. In 2024 alone, ESA launched a record 13 satellites, inaugurated the Ariane 6 rocket, returned VEGA-C to flight, and trained a new batch of astronauts. But these achievements only scratch the surface of what’s needed if Europe wants to stand shoulder to shoulder with the world’s space superpowers.
There’s hope that the upcoming ESA Ministerial Conference in Bremen in November 2025 will mark a turning point. Budgets are expected to rise from €16.9 billion in 2022 to potentially €21 billion. But as Aschbacher points out, money is not the only concern but also about political will, long-term strategy, and vision.
Beyond Rockets. The Economic Case for Space
Critics often see space investment as wasteful, a playground for billionaire adventurers like Musk, Bezos, or Branson. But Aschbacher is quick to dispel the myth. “One euro invested in space brings back five euros to the economy,” he argues. That return manifests in job creation, technology spin-offs, private sector engagement, and even medical innovation.
Take Earth observation and weather forecasting satellites, for example. ESA’s Arctic Weather Satellite, launched recently, is expected to generate economic value fifty times its initial cost. And then there’s Vigil, an ambitious mission aimed at monitoring solar flares that threaten both satellites and Earth-based electrical grids. With a launch targeted for 2031 and a price tag of a few hundred million euros, Vigil is looking to safeguarding Europe’s digital infrastructure.
Time for a Unified Industrial Strategy
Grudler believes the time for fragmented ambition is over. He envisions space being placed on equal footing with semiconductors, energy, and artificial intelligence in Europe’s industrial policy. “We don’t need to copy the United States line by line,” he said, “but we do need political vision, unity, and continuity.”
That includes developing a true European procurement system for space, pooling resources across member states, and embedding space into the EU’s long-term industrial and defence strategy. Otherwise, Europe risks becoming a junior player in a domain where dominance translates directly to geopolitical leverage.
The Last Bit, Space Is Not Optional
Space is no longer a luxury, it is a necessity. As Aschbacher puts it: “You cannot live without space in 20 years.” Just as the internet transformed every aspect of modern life, space technology, from satellite communications and Earth observation to missile tracking and cybersecurity, will underpin the next era of global competition.
And Europe must decide – will it lead, or will it follow?
As ESA and EU institutions prepare for a pivotal 2025, the clock is ticking. The message from industry, policymakers, and scientists- the stars are calling, and Europe’s defence sector must rise to meet the challenge. Because in today’s geopolitical climate, space is not the final frontier, it is the next frontline.
Chinese prisoners of war under armed guard Zhang Renbo (C) and Wang Guangjun (R) look on during a press conference in Kyiv on April 14, 2025, amid the Russian invasion of Ukraine. Two Chinese men dressed in camouflage uniform were escorted into a Kyiv press centre in handcuffs and sat flanked by armed Ukrainian soldiers, with no way of telling whether they were expressing themselves of their own free will. (Photo by Genya SAVILOV / AFP)
Ukraine seemed to be running out of diplomatic cards to play – with Donald Trump’s support on the global stage steadily declining and Russia ramping up its offensive, bolstered quietly by Beijing’s nod-and-wink diplomacy, and just then, Kyiv made its move.
After China flatly denied that any of its citizens were fighting alongside Russian forces in the ongoing war, Ukraine decided to up the ante. In a rare and controversial move, the Ukrainian military, with President Volodymyr Zelensky’s nod, paraded two Chinese nationals captured as prisoners of war before a sea of reporters and camera crews.
It was a direct and deliberate breach of international humanitarian law, which strictly prohibits exposing POWs to public curiosity or media attention. But Kyiv clearly felt the risk was worth the message – Beijing was lying, and Ukraine had the proof.
Just last week, Zelensky publicly claimed that at least 155 Chinese nationals were actively fighting on Ukrainian soil, trained and deployed by Russia. He accused Moscow of dragging China into the conflict and slammed Beijing for staying conveniently silent. Two of those fighters, he said, had been captured in Donetsk. China, of course, rubbished the claims as fiction.
But the visual counterpunch from Ukraine was hard to ignore.
Flanked by Ukrainian security forces, the two POWs, dressed in combat fatigues and speaking Mandarin, were seated before journalists, with a translator by their side. Their stories clearly painted a picture of desperation and deception.
Documents were all in Russian. Neither of the two said they spoke the language. Communication was reduced to gestures and guesswork. One of them said he often relied on hand signals to follow orders.
A separate military contract, allegedly signed by another Chinese volunteer and shown by Ukrainian intelligence, revealed the fine print: a one-year commitment to full combat duties, support during martial law, and participation in military activities, including those beyond Russian borders.
Once deployed to the battlefield, confusion reigned.
Recounting his final moments in the field, one of the Chinese fighters described the chaos that led to their capture in Donetsk.
“When we reached a forest, my captain just kept saying ‘Da, da, da’—yes, yes, yes in Russian—telling me to attack,” he said. “But I didn’t even know where the target was. We passed many Russian positions. I thought we were heading to our own bunker. I thought he was joking. So I hid. Then another Russian unit captain threw a grenade, and suddenly drones were everywhere.”
They surrendered shortly after. They had been on the battlefield for just three days.
China Faces The Sting
In response to Ukraine’s revelation of captured Chinese nationals fighting for Russia, China’s foreign ministry tried to save face with a quick rebuttal. “We would like to reiterate that China is not the initiator of the Ukrainian crisis, nor is China a participating party,” the statement read. “We urge the relevant parties to correctly and soberly understand China’s role and to refrain from releasing irresponsible remarks.”
But while Beijing deflects and distances itself from the war, Kyiv is taking the gloves off. While China continues to claim neutrality, its actions tell a different story. From the outset of the war, Beijing has provided Moscow with a steady stream of economic and diplomatic support. Now, with Chinese nationals confirmed to be on the frontlines, Kyiv is focused on how China is involved beyond the rhetoric and whether Beijing’s government might be complicit.
When asked whether this involvement could be part of China’s official policy, Zelensky was candid. “I don’t have an answer yet. The Security Service of Ukraine will investigate,” he said. However, he added, “We do believe Beijing is aware of what’s happening.”
The Role of Foreign Fighters in the War
Foreign fighters have become a significant part of this conflict, with volunteers from all corners of the world joining both sides. In 2024, a list reviewed revealed six Sri Lankans, seven Nepalese, and individuals from Somalia, Egypt, and Syria, among others, held by Ukraine as prisoners of war.
Ukraine’s Defense Intelligence sources explain Russia’s reliance on these foreign recruits. “Russia is now stuck in a war of attrition,” said an intelligence source. “It can’t sustain the front lines with its own forces alone and has no choice but to recruit from everywhere.”
The Chinese prisoners were adamant, however, that their decision was personal. They claimed that slick recruitment videos on TikTok- circulating in China for over a year – were their main motivator. One of these videos shows Russian soldiers training in combat gear, alongside messages in both Russian and Chinese, detailing the financial incentives of joining Russia’s army.
The video, originally aimed at a domestic Russian audience, included Chinese subtitles, which seemed to appeal directly to young Chinese men. The footage, showing soldiers in action, emphasizing “manliness” and financial rewards, resonated in a country where military service is venerated but direct combat experience is often elusive.
Whether these videos were sanctioned by the Russian government or created by social media users remains unclear, but the allure of combat experience in exchange for money is undeniable, especially when advertised on platforms like TikTok, which is wildly popular among Chinese youth.
Why the Timing of Kyiv’s Move Matters
Kyiv has shown POWs to the press before – soldiers from Nepal, fighters from Africa – but its decision to spotlight captured Chinese nationals is a dramatic deviation from the norm. This wasn’t a random move. The timing is strategic, and the audience far beyond just the Ukrainian public.
At the heart of this move is Ukraine’s battle for relevance in Washington, particularly with President Donald Trump back in the Oval Office. His administration has so far struggled to rein in Moscow, with ceasefire talks hitting a dead end. And while Ukraine bleeds on the frontlines, Washington’s eyes seem fixated elsewhere, on China.
From Zelensky’s perspective, nothing is more potent than illustrating the possibility that China’s support for Russia may go beyond yuan and lip service. The optics of Chinese soldiers fighting alongside Russian troops is a message tailor-made for Trump’s administration, which has been slapping Beijing with escalating tariffs and treating it as America’s top global rival.
According to Anders Puck Nielsen of the Royal Danish Defence College, Kyiv is increasingly uneasy about the European Union’s warming overtures to China – as both global powers seek to find common ground amid a worsening trade climate fueled by U.S. tariffs.
“Suddenly it seems there might be potential for the Europeans and the Chinese to find common ground on other questions as well,” Nielsen said. Ukraine’s move, he added, is “clearly political,” aimed at ensuring China’s entanglement with Russia doesn’t get swept under Europe’s diplomatic carpet.
Beijing, predictably, was not amused. “We urge the relevant parties concerned to correctly and soberly understand the role of China and to not release irresponsible remarks,” snapped Chinese foreign ministry spokesman Lin Jian – delivering a warning that didn’t name Kyiv, but left little ambiguity.
Russia’s Military Call-Up Raises Alarm Bells
Meanwhile, Moscow is quietly prepping for a long, grinding war, and it’s starting by replenishing its troops.
On April 1, Russia launched its largest conscription drive since 2011, aiming to draft 160,000 men between the ages of 18 and 30. The campaign is part of President Putin’s broader military expansion plan, targeting a 2.5 million-strong armed force.
The reaction was a wave of panic among Russian youth.
With more than 100,000 Russian soldiers already killed since 2022, according to an open-source tally by BBC and Mediazona, and the prospect of being sent to the front lines has terrified thousands of draft-eligible men. The widening age bracket hasn’t helped either: once capped at 27, the upper age limit for conscription now reaches 30.
And unlike the early months of the war, there are fewer cracks to slip through. Legal loopholes and exemptions still exist (on health grounds, through court appeals, by pursuing higher education, citing family responsibilities, or even applying for alternative civil service) but they are increasingly difficult to leverage. Those in certain sectors, such as the military-industrial complex, or high-ranking politicians, are usually spared. For everyone else it is fair game.
The tightening net has driven many to desperate measures – from feigning illness to leaving the country altogether.
For now, the Kremlin maintains that this is just a regular draft. But as the war drags on and losses mount, it’s clear this is a last-ditch attempt to keep the machine running.
And it’s happening just as Ukraine’s campaign to expose foreign fighters, especially from China, is heating up. As both sides fight their battles on and off the battlefield, the propaganda war is just as critical as the one being fought with bullets and drones.
In today’s hybrid war, optics matter as much as artillery, and Ukraine understands this all too well. Hence, by showcasing captured Chinese fighters, Kyiv isn’t just documenting the battlefield – it’s weaponizing perception, sending a calculated message to both Washington and Brussels: Russia’s war is not just Putin’s, and China’s fingerprints might be deeper than they claim.
The Last Bit
As Ukraine tries to shore up global support and prevent geopolitical realignments that could weaken its standing, Russia is digging in for a long haul, arming itself not just with missiles, but with the bodies of frightened young conscripts.
From Washington’s shifting priorities to the EU’s careful diplomatic dance with Beijing, the global chessboard is moving rapidly.
The Arctic region is undergoing a profound transformation, sadly driven primarily by the accelerating effects of climate change. Rising global temperatures over recent decades have led to the seasonal thawing of the Arctic Ocean, a phenomenon with far-reaching geopolitical ramifications. If current warming trends persist, the Arctic is projected to become seasonally navigable for several months annually, and by some scientific projections, it could become nearly ice-free by the end of the 21st century.
This emerging accessibility is not only reshaping the physical aspect but is also redefining strategic calculations for major global powers, most notably China, Russia, and the United States, by opening new avenues for commercial shipping, energy exploration, and military posturing.
China’s Strategic Calculus in the Arctic
Although geographically distant from the Arctic, China has actively positioned itself as a “near-Arctic state,” a designation it uses to justify its growing presence and interests in the region. While Chinese involvement in Arctic affairs dates back to the 1980s, initially limited to scientific research and polar expeditions, its engagement has evolved significantly over the past decade.
In 2017, China unveiled its Polar Silk Road initiative as part of its broader Belt and Road Initiative (BRI), formally articulating its vision for Arctic engagement. This was further consolidated with the publication of its 2018 white paper titled China’s Arctic Policy, which framed the region as integral to China’s long-term strategic and economic planning.
According to Chinese assessments, segments of the Arctic Ocean may become reliably navigable as early as 2030. In anticipation of this shift, Beijing has actively pursued bilateral agreements with Arctic stakeholders, including Russia, Iceland, and Greenland, to secure infrastructure development and logistical access. These partnerships reflect China’s intent to integrate the Arctic into its global supply chain network and to reduce its dependency on traditional maritime routes.
Beijing’s strategic rationale is anchored in the interplay between its economic structure and geostrategic vulnerabilities. China’s economy is heavily reliant on global trade, especially in energy imports (notably oil and natural gas) and the export of manufactured goods. Maritime shipping accounts for over 80% of global trade by volume, and China’s commercial shipping routes currently depend on transit through geopolitically sensitive and heavily monitored waterways in the Southern Hemisphere, including the South China Sea, Strait of Malacca, Indian Ocean, and Suez Canal – all areas where the United States and its allies maintain considerable influence.
The Arctic, by contrast, offers a northern alternative that could reduce travel distances between China and Europe by up to 40%. Moreover, with an estimated 13% of the world’s undiscovered oil and 30% of its undiscovered natural gas reserves located in the Arctic, the region presents Beijing with an opportunity to diversify its energy sources while potentially lowering transportation and production costs. From a geopolitical standpoint, the Arctic route presents a less-contested maritime corridor, at least for now, where U.S. naval dominance is comparatively limited.
In essence, China’s Arctic strategy is not merely an economic gambit but a deliberate effort to recalibrate its global trade dependencies, enhance energy security, and establish strategic footholds in an emerging geopolitical theatre that is currently undergoing a fundamental transformation.Russia’s Arctic Imperative
Among all Arctic stakeholders, Russia holds the most expansive territorial claim and physical presence in the region, encompassing nearly half of the Arctic coastline. The Arctic has long been central to Russia’s national identity, economic strategy, and military doctrine. In recent years, Moscow has accelerated its activities in the region, driven by a combination of geopolitical ambition, economic necessity, and climate-enabled opportunity.
The melting Arctic ice has created a renewed strategic relevance for Russia’s Northern Sea Route (NSR) – a maritime passage along its northern coast that links Europe to Asia. The NSR offers a significantly shorter alternative to the Suez Canal route, potentially reducing shipping times between major ports in Asia and Europe by approximately two weeks. Russia sees this as an opportunity not only to monetize transit fees but also to position itself as a critical node in global trade logistics. To that end, it has been investing heavily in port infrastructure, icebreaker fleets, and navigational capabilities to render the NSR viable for commercial use.
Economically, the Arctic represents a cornerstone of Russia’s future energy strategy. An estimated 80–90% of Russia’s gas and oil reserves in the Arctic remain untapped, and with Western sanctions constraining other economic sectors, Moscow has turned increasingly to Arctic energy development to sustain state revenues. Projects like Yamal LNG and Arctic LNG 2—developed in partnership with countries such as China and India, demonstrate how Russia is leveraging Arctic resources to deepen strategic ties with non-Western powers while bypassing Western financial systems and technologies where possible.
Militarily, the Kremlin views the Arctic as an extension of its national security perimeter. It has significantly expanded its military footprint in the High North, reactivating Soviet-era bases, establishing new Arctic brigades, and deploying advanced missile systems and radar networks. The Arctic is also home to the Northern Fleet, which plays a critical role in Russia’s nuclear deterrence posture through its deployment of submarine-launched ballistic missiles (SLBMs). In this context, the Arctic serves as both a strategic buffer zone and a forward-operating theater, particularly amid deteriorating relations with NATO.
For Russia, therefore, the Arctic is not merely a zone of economic promise, it is a platform for strategic autonomy, great-power assertion, and regime stability. As the region becomes more accessible, Moscow will likely continue to militarize and commercialize the Arctic, asserting its sovereignty and seeking to shape emerging Arctic governance frameworks to align with its interests.
The United States
The United States, as one of the five Arctic coastal states, maintains a complex posture in the region, one that balances environmental stewardship, economic interest, and great-power competition. Unlike Russia and China, the U.S. has historically approached Arctic policy with a degree of strategic caution and bureaucratic inertia. However, the evolving geopolitical landscape, marked by increased Sino-Russian collaboration and climate-induced accessibility, is prompting a recalibration of American Arctic policy.
Alaska provides the United States with direct access to the Arctic, positioning it geographically to engage in the region’s economic and security affairs. Yet, compared to Russia’s robust infrastructure or China’s strategic planning, the U.S. Arctic presence remains relatively underdeveloped. The U.S. operates only a limited fleet of icebreakers, far fewer than Russia, and lacks the deep-water ports and logistical capabilities required to project sustained influence in the High North. Recognizing this strategic gap, Washington has begun investing in Arctic domain awareness, increasing Coast Guard funding, and enhancing military exercises under the U.S. Northern Command and NATO umbrella.
From an energy standpoint, Alaska holds substantial reserves of oil and gas, and Arctic development is viewed by some in Washington as essential to energy independence and economic revitalization. However, environmental concerns and legal restrictions have often hampered large-scale extraction projects, leading to a cautious and sometimes contradictory approach to resource exploitation.
Strategically, the U.S. perceives the Arctic through the prism of great-power rivalry. As China seeks to normalize its presence and Russia intensifies its military activities, the Pentagon has acknowledged the Arctic as an emerging domain of strategic competition. U.S. Arctic strategies released in recent years, by the Department of Defense, Navy, and Coast Guard, emphasize the need to maintain a rules-based order, ensure freedom of navigation, and counter malign influence, particularly from China and Russia.
Washington also seeks to strengthen Arctic governance institutions, such as the Arctic Council, and to deepen coordination with key allies including Canada, Norway, and Denmark. These efforts aim not only to preserve regional stability but also to prevent the Arctic from becoming a zone of unchecked militarization and unilateral economic exploitation.
The Last Bit,
As the Arctic transitions from a frozen frontier to a navigable and resource-rich expanse, it is rapidly becoming a central arena for 21st-century geopolitics. For China, it is a strategic corridor and energy diversification opportunity. For Russia, it is a theater of national strength, economic survival, and military leverage. For the United States, it is a space requiring urgent strategic attention, lest it fall behind in shaping the future of Arctic governance and balance-of-power dynamics.
The interplay of environmental transformation, strategic ambition, and economic interest ensures that the Arctic will no longer remain peripheral to global affairs. Rather, it is set to become a defining space in the evolving multipolar order, where cooperation, competition, and confrontation are likely to coexist.
First, let’s address a basic but widely overlooked fact – never mistake Bangladesh for a homogeneous, monolithic society. Much like its neighbor India, Bangladesh is layered, diverse, and politically complex. Religion, language, dialect, and political ideology don’t exist in binary forms here; rather, they overlap, clash, and co-exist in often paradoxical ways.
Yet, in the current political climate, the loudest voices coming from Bangladesh, whether on television panels, social media platforms, or diplomatic corridors, seem to carry a distinctly anti-India tone. But should we allow this dominant voice to blind us to the subtler truths beneath? Absolutely not. Because beneath this cacophony lie many pro-India voices, still present, still concerned, and still trying to reason. The tragedy is, they are being systematically silenced.
And this silencing, it appears, isn’t a byproduct of organic public sentiment, but a calculated political strategy.
Which brings us to a crucial and controversial question:- Why is Muhammad Yunus, once hailed as a savior of the poor, a Nobel Peace Prize winner, seemingly aiding and abetting this silencing?
To answer that, we must look beyond just the headlines and look deeper into the political messaging at play. The destruction of Hindu temples, the persecution of Bangladeshi Hindus, the abductions, the mob violence, these are not isolated acts of communal frenzy.
They are increasingly being seen as tools of signaling. Signaling to India, and to the world, that Bangladesh is pivoting. Away from a secular-democratic leaning, towards a more radical, authoritarian one, led by figures like Yunus and allegedly bolstered by groups such as Jamaat-e-Islami.
One may ask. why Hindus? Why target this already vulnerable minority?
Because in the politics of polarization, minorities become the canvas on which majoritarian agendas are painted, and the pain of one community becomes a lever to provoke another. What we are witnessing in Bangladesh today is not just domestic upheaval, it’s geopolitical game, playing out on the fragile backs of minorities.
So how did a microfinance icon become a geopolitical actor accused of endangering regional ties?
Because power, once tasted, reshapes many stories. And since being ushered into the highest office (allegedly with quiet backing from external sympathizers and ideological allies) Yunus appears to be rewriting Bangladesh’s long-standing diplomatic posture.
A Calculated Shift in Allegiance?
The façade cracked during Yunus’s visit to China, a trip that sent more than a few diplomatic eyebrows arching in New Delhi. It wasn’t just the optics of cozy handshakes and glowing statements about “deepening strategic ties” that drew attention. What truly sent shockwaves was his barely veiled reference to India’s northeastern states – the ‘Seven Sisters’.
Addressing a discussion in Beijing on March 28, Yunus had tried to convince Chinese businesses to set up industries in Bangladesh and export to the rest of the world and even China by taking advantage of the country’s seaway.
“Seven Sisters of India are a landlocked region — they have no way to reach the ocean. We are the only guardian of the ocean for all of this region. This opens up a huge possibility,” he told the roundtable.
To call it a diplomatic blunder would be too generous. It was a bold, deliberate provocation – one that many in Indian strategic circles view as a red flag, signalling a drastic shift in Bangladesh’s geopolitical orientation.
And what followed didn’t help. In March 2025, Bangladesh abruptly halted yarn imports from India via land ports, a move that baffled trade experts and enraged Bangladesh’s own business chambers. The textile industry( the very backbone of Bangladesh’s economy) depends on Indian raw materials. Indian ports also serve as essential trade routes to ship Bangladeshi finished goods globally.
Why, then, would Yunus bite the very hand that fuels his country’s most vital export sector?
The answer lies not in economics but in political symbolism.
By favouring Pakistani yarn imports, costlier and logistically burdensome, over Indian ones, Yunus is not strengthening Bangladesh’s economy. He’s sending a message. A message that old alliances can be undone, that Bangladesh can pivot eastward – toward Beijing – and even flirt with Islamabad, however impractical that may seem.
India, for its part, responded swiftly. The Modi government revoked a key transshipment facility for Bangladesh, sparing only Bhutan and Nepal. For a landlocked country that heavily depends on Indian logistical corridors, this move was both strategic and surgical.
But again — what leader willingly risks their own country’s economic stability just to provoke a neighbor?
Unless that very provocation is part of a larger agenda — an agenda that involves re-aligning Bangladesh away from India’s orbit, and into a new ideological and economic axis, possibly backed by powerful benefactors in Beijing and Riyadh.
And this is where the questions get darker.
From Hasina’s Balance to Yunus’s Tilt
Until Sheikh Hasina was at the helm, India never had to second-guess Bangladesh’s loyalty in matters of national security. Even when the terrain got rough, the underlying diplomatic spine between the two countries held. India, for its part, invested heavily not just in diplomacy, but in business too. Consider Adani Power, one of India’s largest private enterprises, was awarded a major electricity supply contract to power the cities of Bangladesh.
Now comes the twist. Enter Mohammed Yunus and the equilibrium vanishes.
The moment Yunus steps in, the very first tremors are felt not in speeches, but in trade. Imports from India are halted. Business with Adani is put under review. More crucially, Jamaat-e-Islami constituencies suddenly seem emboldened, as if waiting for a signal and Yunus just gave it.
Let’s not forget – Jamaat-e-Islami isn’t just a Bangladeshi force. It’s a shared thread linking radical Islamist groups across India, Pakistan, and Bangladesh. But of the three, its roots run deepest in Bangladesh.
So what message was Yunus really sending when he publicly challenged India’s position? Why stir the hornet’s nest?
Perhaps the answer lies in his backchannel connections, particularly with the Pakistani Army and the ISI. The ideological transmission line, the one that keeps these regimes talking in hushed tones and coded gestures, is Jamaat-e-Islami. In this matrix, Yunus becomes the conduit. A tool being calibrated for a larger endgame.
And the timing is everything.
Let’s not forget, Yunus is not an elected leader. His presence at the top of the Bangladeshi power structure was pitched as temporary, a bridge until elections were held. That was the promise. That was the premise.
But elections? Now branded a “waste of time” by Yunus himself.
Instead, he positions himself as the caretaker of Bangladesh’s “greater stability”, while slowly making sure that his foothold becomes permanent. And for that to happen, he needs a support system. Not the one that comes from the people, but one that comes from power brokers radical groups at home, and influential friends abroad.
So why align with Pakistan, a country sinking in debt and disorder? What can Pakistan offer?
The answer is: China.
Pakistan today is not a power center; it’s a front office for Beijing’s South Asia desk. And through Islamabad, Yunus is knocking on Beijing’s door, offering something even China doesn’t currently have a strategic outpost bang on India’s underbelly. He’s waving a flag that says: “Use me.”
Use Bangladesh as a gateway to India’s northeastern corridor. Use it to stir unrest, to build roadways, to float debt, to offer “aid.” And in exchange, all Yunus wants is the power to stay where he is unelected, unquestioned.
How do we know this isn’t conjecture?
Look at the sequence of decisions. Bangladesh under Yunus closed three land ports and suspended another with India, citing “infrastructure issues.” Curious timing, isn’t it?
Even more ironic is this, despite publicly escalating tensions with India, Bangladesh still went ahead and imported 50,000 tons of rice from India, costing over $21 million. What does this tell us?
It tells us that this isn’t strategy rooted in economics, it’s a political signaling exercise. He’s playing a game. And now the question becomes – What is Yunus truly plotting, and what plotlines is he rewriting?
One thread runs through Meghna Alam’s sudden arrest, a story that hints at how deep this rot goes.
Meghna Alam, a former Miss Earth Bangladesh, dared to expose the extramarital involvement of the Saudi ambassador, a scandal made worse by the deeply conservative Islamic values both nations claim to uphold. But rather than defend her freedom of speech, the Yunus-led government sent the police in the dead of night to abduct her, a moment she streamed on Facebook Live. She was jailed under a draconian law, while the real scandal was buried under diplomatic protocol.
Why? Because upsetting Saudi Arabia isn’t on the cards – oil flows through influence, and influence must be protected.
So what does this entire episode tell us?
That Yunus is not just consolidating power internally, he’s dancing to an external symphony, composed in Beijing, arranged in Islamabad, and sponsored by Riyadh.
Now let us come to geopolitics – key politics, power politics.
The recent appointment of Khalilur Rahman as Bangladesh’s National Security Advisor on 9th April 2025 was no small administrative reshuffle, it was a power play, loaded with signals, layered motives, and strategic implications. He was already Yunus’s point man on the Rohingya issue and Priority Affairs. With this new role, he now oversees both human rights diplomacy and national security.
But this appointment was made when Bangladesh’s Army Chief, Waker-Uz-Zaman, was away on a diplomatic visit to Russia and Croatia. It’s worth pausing right here. In countries like Bangladesh and Pakistan, the military doesn’t just guard borders, it holds significant sway in internal politics, sometimes more than the civilian government itself.
So, was Yunus trying to bypass the Army Chief? Undercut his authority? Sneak in his loyalist when the General wasn’t looking? That’s the question.
And the signals don’t stop there. Yunus has been openly flirting with China, while America, predictably, isn’t too thrilled. The US questions democracy, transparency, equal rights – China doesn’t care. China’s playbook is cold, hard, and transactional. So for Yunus, China is money, America is migration. And that’s exactly the game he seems to be playing.
Let’s dig deeper. Mohammed Yunus, in many ways, hails from a tradition of civil power-seekers with dictatorial leanings. Think of Mohammed Ali Jinnah, a man who wanted to be the head of a country, even if it meant breaking up another. Sound familiar?
Yunus too seems willing to burn the house down as long as he’s the one holding the fire extinguisher.
Now, here’s where it gets even more intriguing, Khalilur Rahman holds a US passport. That means the National Security Advisor of Bangladesh is technically an American citizen. Let that sink in. And not just him, 7 to 8 key people in the interim setup have foreign passports, mostly American or European.
So, is this a case of deep state influence from the US? Are these appointees strategically placed proxies meant to steer Bangladesh’s future? But if that’s true, why are they still hobnobbing with China?
The answer lies in dual strategy, the very same strategy that is now institutionalized in Pakistan.
Take Chinese money.
Blame America.
Send your children to study in America.
Buy property in London.
Settle in New Jersey.
Rinse and repeat.
None of these power players hold Chinese passports. So it’s clear, America is where they want to go, but China is where the money flows from.
Now back to the army. The Bangladesh Army is a proud, structured, and disciplined institution. It follows its Chief. But here’s the danger, if Yunus manages to topple Waker-Uz-Zaman, he gets to insert a loyalist, either a Chinese stooge or an American asset. And once that happens, he controls both the civilian narrative and the military doctrine.
In fact, a video has surfaced where the Chief of the National Citizen Party openly alleges that General Waker-Uz-Zaman did not support Yunus’s elevation as Chief Advisor. That one line tells us everything about the power struggle under the surface.
The Last Bit, The Game of Thrones in Dhaka
Md Yunus is playing a complex geopolitical game, part survival, part ambition, part ideological war. He wants to be the indispensable man. The interim head of state, who turns temporary power into a permanent seat. A man who bypasses elections, co-opts radical forces like Jamaat-e-Islami, and now surrounds himself with foreign-passport-holding advisors, all while balancing between Beijing’s cheque book and Washington’s lecture notes.
He’s not just redefining Bangladesh’s internal politics.
He’s repositioning Bangladesh in the great global game of influence.
India must now watch Dhaka not just with interest, but with caution.
Because if Yunus succeeds, Bangladesh may become a frontline state, not for democracy, but for a new era of foreign-controlled proxy politics right on India’s eastern flank.
Hence, by the looks of it –
The stage is set.
The actors are in place.
And the drama in Dhaka has only just begun!
All is not well along India’s eastern seaboard – The Bay Of Bengal. The political reshuffle in Dhaka during August last year, marked by the sidelining of Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina, many opine bore the unmistakable fingerprints of American strategic orchestration. The rapid elevation of Nobel laureate Muhammad Yunus as Chief Adviser to Bangladesh’s interim government only reinforced the perception of external influence, particularly given Yunus’ long-standing proximity to U.S. policymakers.
This arrangement, however, strayed from constitutional norms. Bangladesh’s caretaker governance mechanism mandates the appointment of a former Supreme Court judge, not a civilian appointee with no judicial standing. Yet, the Bangladeshi military extended its institutional endorsement, raising further eyebrows. Yunus’ subsequent trip to Washington, accompanied by the student leader who had spearheaded the anti-Hasina agitation, and his reported interactions with figures such as Bill Clinton, and possibly even President Joe Biden, lent credence to the view that the U.S. deep state was closely managing the transition.
From New Delhi’s standpoint, Yunus’ early public remarks and the positions taken by his advisers have exhibited a troubling shift away from the traditionally cooperative posture towards India. Foreign Secretary Vikram Misri’s recent visit to Dhaka, during which he engaged with Yunus, was likely a signal of Indian concerns being conveyed at the highest levels.
The geopolitical recalibration became even more evident when Yunus travelled to Beijing and met with Chinese President Xi Jinping.
At a business forum, he provocatively stated,
“The seven sisters of India are landlocked—they have no way to reach the ocean. We are the only guardian of the ocean for all of this region. From Bangladesh, you can go anywhere you want. The ocean is in our backyard.”
Such a statement either betrays a profound lack of geographical and strategic comprehension or is a deliberate attempt to recast the regional maritime narrative. With over 7,500 km of coastline – 6,100 km on the eastern seaboard alone – and a formidable naval presence including two operational SSBNs (with a third on the horizon), India remains the preeminent maritime power in the Bay of Bengal. To imagine Bangladesh as the “guardian of the ocean” is a gross misreading of regional naval realities.
Moreover, India and Bangladesh share deep military-to-military linkages. The two navies engage in regular joint exercises, and a significant number of Bangladeshi officers continue to receive training in Indian institutions, promoting professional camaraderie and interoperability.
Yunus’ overtures to Chinese investors, therefore, are not only diplomatically provocative but also geopolitically puzzling – particularly for someone viewed as a U.S.-endorsed transitional figure. Notably, his China visit coincided with that of two senior U.S. generals to Bangladesh, while the Bangladeshi Army Chief, General Waker-Uz-Zaman, also made a visit to Beijing soon after Yunus’ return.
In the final months of her tenure, Sheikh Hasina had publicly stated that Washington had expressed interest in accessing St. Martin’s Island, a strategic outpost merely 9 km from the Cox’s Bazar-Teknaf peninsula and 8 km from the Myanmar coastline. Her decision to deny this request possibly contributed to the erosion of U.S. support.
The situation in Myanmar, with its spiraling internal instability and Beijing’s expanding influence, continues to draw intense scrutiny from Washington. In parallel, China’s growing footprint in Bangladesh through political, economic, and now military inroads is creating a complex matrix of alignments that New Delhi must monitor closely.
Strategic Realignments in the Bay of Bengal
India’s eastern flank is entering a period of renewed turbulence and countering the evolving theater will require strategic clarity, enhanced regional diplomacy, and robust maritime preparedness to ensure that the Bay of Bengal does not become an arena for great power contestation at the expense of regional stability.
The Bay of Bengal remains the last major quadrant of the Indian Ocean where the United States does not maintain a direct physical military presence – a strategic void that is becoming increasingly consequential.
Against this backdrop, the Biden administration had earmarked $167 million for Myanmar, including $75 million for cross-border humanitarian assistance. Of this, $25 million was allocated for non-lethal aid to ethnic armed organizations, signaling a renewed American interest in the unfolding dynamics along the Indo-Myanmar frontier.
China, for its part, has entrenched itself deeply in Myanmar’s strategic calculus. Beijing continues to support the ruling junta while simultaneously maintaining covert ties with several ethnic armed groups operating along its border. This dual strategy is driven by the imperative to secure the energy and logistics corridor running from Kyaukphyu port to Kunming. The Kyaukphyu deep-sea port, developed by China under its Belt and Road Initiative (BRI), is a critical node for offloading Saudi and Iranian crude, which is then transported inland via pipelines. This corridor offers China a vital alternative to the congested and potentially vulnerable Malacca Strait, reducing its exposure to U.S. naval interdiction in a crisis scenario.
To balance Chinese influence and maintain equidistance between its two powerful neighbors, the Myanmar government awarded the development and operational contract of the Sittwe Port to India’s Inland Waterways and Port Logistics (IPGL). This port is a cornerstone of the Kaladan Multimodal Transit Transport Project, aimed at enhancing connectivity between India’s Northeast and the Bay of Bengal, bypassing dependence on transit through Bangladesh. Once fully operational, this corridor could integrate India’s landlocked northeastern states with the economies of Southeast Asia – Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, and Vietnam – ultimately linking into the Pacific via the South China Sea.
Meanwhile, Bangladesh remains another critical node in this Indo-Pacific jigsaw. China has made significant inroads in Dhaka, emerging as the country’s largest import partner and a key defense supplier. Eleven major Chinese infrastructure projects are currently underway, many falling under the ambit of the BRI. These ventures are said to support over 55,000 Bangladeshi jobs, cementing Beijing’s economic leverage. Reports have previously surfaced suggesting Chinese proposals for regular People’s Liberation Army Navy (PLAN) deployments from Bangladeshi ports. However, under Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina, such proposals were firmly declined, likely to avoid transforming the Bay of Bengal into another theater of major power rivalry.
The U.S., too, has been assertive in re-engaging the region, spurred by concerns over China’s deepening presence in both Myanmar and Bangladesh. The situation in Rakhine State has become increasingly complex. The Arakan Army now controls vast swathes of the region, including almost the entire border with Bangladesh—barring the crucial ports of Sittwe and Kyaukphyu. Their ascendancy has triggered serious humanitarian concerns, including reported atrocities against the Rohingya population. These developments have strategic implications for both New Delhi and Washington, given the proximity to the Indian border and the refugee pressure it could intensify.
President Trump’s suspension of USAID funding, which had been supporting basic food and medical relief for Burmese refugees in India, Bangladesh, and Thailand, has created a dangerous vacuum. The withdrawal of this lifeline raises the specter of worsening malnutrition, disease, and potential radicalization.
Compounding these concerns is the emerging role of Muhammad Yunus. Reports suggest that the interim Bangladeshi leadership under Yunus is considering inviting Chinese investment for the development of Mongla Port, a project previously awarded to India during the Hasina administration.
Even more concerning are reports of overtures made to Pakistan to develop an airbase at Lalmonirhat, near India’s vulnerable Siliguri Corridor (Chicken’s Neck). The strategic consequences of such developments could be profound, destabilizing the delicate regional equilibrium and inviting external power projection into a sensitive tri-junction of South Asia.
As geopolitical currents intensify, Myanmar, Bangladesh, and the littoral infrastructure surrounding this basin are becoming central to great-power rivalries playing out far beyond South Asia’s traditional spheres.
The Biden administration’s $167 million assistance package for Myanmar, of which $75 million was allocated for cross-border humanitarian aid and $25 million for non-lethal support to ethnic armed organizations, reflects Washington’s attempt to remain engaged in a region dominated by Chinese infrastructure and influence. Yet, American presence remains symbolic, more diplomatic than decisive, especially in the face of expanding Chinese economic and military footprints.
China’s Strategic Dualism in Myanmar
China’s engagement in Myanmar is layered with tactical ambiguity. On one hand, Beijing continues to support the ruling military junta; on the other, it nurtures ties with several ethnic armed groups. This dual policy is not ideological, it is logistical.
At the heart of this balancing act lies the strategic port of Kyaukphyu, developed by China as part of its Belt and Road Initiative (BRI). Crude oil from the Gulf, particularly Saudi and Iranian supplies, is offloaded here before being transported through pipelines across Myanmar into China’s Yunnan province, terminating at the Kunming refinery. This overland corridor serves as a vital alternative to the Malacca Strait, which, in times of military tension with the U.S., remains vulnerable to naval blockades or chokepoint disruptions.
To ensure the corridor’s stability, Beijing has also backed rebel groups near its borders, using influence and funding to prevent any disruption to the oil pipeline. This delicate arrangement secures Chinese energy flows and deepens its long-term economic entrenchment in Myanmar.
India’s Counterbalance: Sittwe and Kaladan
In an effort to maintain a balance of power between China and India, Myanmar awarded India’s Inland Waterways and Port Logistics (IPGL) the development and operational contract of Sittwe Port. Strategically located, the port is a crucial node in the Kaladan Multimodal Transit Transport Project, which aims to provide India’s landlocked Northeastern states with a direct corridor to the Bay of Bengal, bypassing Bangladesh entirely.
More importantly, once fully functional, this corridor will enable India to connect its Northeast with Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, and Vietnam, offering access to the broader ASEAN region and the Pacific via the South China Sea. It is both a connectivity lifeline and a geopolitical statement.
Bangladesh
Bangladesh, meanwhile, sits at the center of this evolving strategic triangle. China has invested heavily in its infrastructure and defense capabilities, with 11 ongoing projects under the BRI. It has become Dhaka’s largest import partner, and Chinese ventures now support over 55,000 local jobs.
While there were reports that the People’s Liberation Army Navy (PLAN) had sought to operate from Bangladeshi ports, the Sheikh Hasina government rejected such proposals. The intent was clear: Dhaka sought to avoid transforming the Bay of Bengal into a battleground of major power rivalries.
The U.S., concerned about China’s increasing maritime influence and entrenched leverage in both Bangladesh and Myanmar, has also tried to remain engaged, though largely through diplomatic and humanitarian channels.
The Arakan Army and the Rakhine Flashpoint
Recent developments in Myanmar’s Rakhine State have further destabilized the region. The Arakan Army, a powerful ethnic armed group, has reportedly taken control of large swathes of territory along the Bangladesh border, excluding only the crucial ports of Sittwe and Kyaukphyu. Their growing influence has intensified fears of human rights abuses, especially against the persecuted Rohingya population, who now face yet another round of displacement and violence.
The Last Bit
With competing corridors, contested ports, and fluid allegiances, the Bay of Bengal is fast emerging as a maritime pressure point.
The intersection of U.S., Chinese, and Indian interests – overlaid with regional instability and shifting leadership in Bangladesh and Myanmar – necessitates vigilant monitoring. For India, securing the eastern seaboard and safeguarding its maritime and continental flanks will be central to sustaining strategic dominance in the Indo-Pacific.
In this unfolding contest, Myanmar and Bangladesh will remain the geopolitical swing states. What they choose – or are forced – to become, may well decide the future balance of power in the Indo-Pacific.
Imagery captured on April 6 by Maxar Technologies and Planet Labs reveals continued work on a guided-missile frigate (FFG) estimated to measure approximately 140 meters (459 feet) in length. This marks a significant advancement in North Korean naval architecture and force projection capability.
The analysis, conducted by Joseph Bermudez Jr. and Jennifer Jun of the Center for Strategic and International Studies (CSIS), notes the vessel is likely designed to accommodate vertical launch systems (VLS) for deploying missiles against both land and maritime targets. Such a configuration suggests North Korea may be seeking to emulate modern blue-water naval capabilities, which are typically seen in more advanced navies.
For context, the FFG under construction is approaching the dimensions of the U.S. Navy’s new Constellation-class frigates (496 feet) and not far behind the Arleigh Burke-class destroyers (505 feet), though its operational capabilities remain speculative.
This development aligns with Pyongyang’s ongoing military modernization program. Despite enduring sanctions under multiple United Nations Security Council resolutions, North Korea has tested a range of advanced systems in recent years – including intercontinental ballistic missiles (ICBMs) and what it claims are hypersonic glide vehicles.
The Nampo frigate’s design appears to incorporate vertical launch cells and phased-array radar systems, according to analysts, suggesting a leap in both offensive and defensive capabilities. Such features, if operationalized, would represent a significant upgrade over North Korea’s existing fleet, which has largely consisted of aging Soviet-era vessels and domestically produced corvettes and patrol boats.
Still, experts advise caution in assessing the platform’s future readiness. “Modern warships represent an integration challenge of communications, electronics, weapons, and both electronic and acoustic sensor technologies,” said Carl Schuster, a former U.S. Navy captain and maritime analyst based in Hawaii. “Almost any shipbuilder can construct the hull. The real challenge is the integration of systems.”
The cost of building and sustaining such a platform is also under scrutiny. South Korean lawmaker Kim Byung-kee, a member of the National Assembly’s Intelligence Committee, recently questioned whether Pyongyang possesses the fiscal or logistical capacity to support the vessel post-launch, particularly in areas such as fuel, maintenance, and crew training.
Yet analysts warn against complacency. Retired ROK Navy Admiral Kim Duk-ki noted that North Korea’s strengthened ties with Russia – especially since the onset of the Ukraine war – may be providing Pyongyang with advanced missile technologies and integration expertise. He further cautioned that if the vessel is ultimately equipped with the hypersonic ballistic missile reportedly tested in January, it could be a “game changer” in the region’s naval power balance.
Schuster, after reviewing the latest imagery, estimates that the ship remains at least a year away from sea trials, citing the absence of superstructure elements, sensor arrays, and weapons systems.
While uncertainties remain about the vessel’s operational timeline and capabilities, it is clear that North Korea intends to join the ranks of nations capable of fielding larger, more versatile surface combatants, signaling a potential evolution in both strategy and posture in the Indo-Pacific.
North Korea Accelerates Naval Modernization Amid Hypersonic Ambitions, U.S. Command Warns
While North Korea’s naval fleet remains numerically significant, its qualitative shortcomings are drawing renewed attention amid Pyongyang’s escalating modernization efforts, spanning from new surface warships to advanced missile technologies, including hypersonic systems.
According to the U.S. Defense Intelligence Agency (DIA) 2021 assessment, the Korean People’s Navy maintains an inventory of approximately 400 patrol combatants and 70 submarines. However, the bulk of these assets are considered outdated and limited in capability. Most vessels are small, aging platforms ill-suited for modern warfare beyond coastal defense roles.
Defense analyst Joseph Dempsey of the International Institute for Strategic Studies notes that North Korea’s fleet of principal surface combatants is essentially restricted to two Najin-class frigates, 1,600-ton platforms originating from the early 1970s. In a January analysis, Dempsey described the frigates as “obsolete,” illustrating the widening capability gap between North Korea’s surface forces and those of regional adversaries such as South Korea and the United States.
Nevertheless, under Kim Jong Un’s directive, Pyongyang is pressing forward with an aggressive naval modernization strategy. In addition to the under-construction 140-meter guided-missile frigate at Nampo shipyard (believed to be the largest surface combatant ever developed by North Korea) new assets are reportedly in progress at multiple shipyards.
South Korean lawmaker Yu Yong-won confirmed that work is also underway on a nuclear-powered submarine in Sinpo and a possible second frigate or destroyer in Chongjin. These developments signal a strategic pivot toward expanding blue-water operational potential and deterrence posture beyond North Korea’s traditional littoral constraints.
Kim has also overseen preparations for a new naval port to accommodate these larger warships.
Simultaneously, U.S. military officials are voicing growing concern over Pyongyang’s accelerating missile programs. During a Senate Armed Services Committee hearing this week, U.S. Forces Korea commander General Xavier T. Brunson stated that North Korea is likely to develop both hypersonic and multiple independently targetable reentry vehicles (MIRVs) within the next year.
“In the coming year, we expect [North Korea] to further develop hypersonic and multiple, independently targetable re-entry vehicle capabilities to complete their government’s goals,” Gen. Brunson told lawmakers, underscoring the regime’s ongoing commitment to expanding its strategic strike options despite increasing international isolation.
To date, North Korea has launched over 47 ballistic missiles while intensifying research and development on both cruise and hypersonic glide vehicle technologies. This rapid progress is believed to be supported, in part, by renewed military-industrial cooperation with Russia, as Pyongyang shifts its strategic doctrine away from unification and toward permanent sovereignty.
He further emphasized the strategic deterrence role of U.S. Forces Korea (USFK): “What USFK provides is the potential to impose cost in the East Sea to Russia, the potential to impose cost in the West Sea to China, and to continue to deter against North Korea as it currently stands.”
North Korea’s Military Behavior
At the dawn of 2024, Kim Jong Un formally abandoned the long-standing doctrine of peaceful reunification rooted in Korean nationalism and instead introduced a two-state theory – effectively signaling a strategic and ideological rupture with South Korea. This shift laid the groundwork for a more aggressive military posture. Throughout the year, North Korea continued its belligerent approach, blending high-profile strategic provocations with lower-intensity hostilities. Yet, despite expectations of a heightened military campaign, the intensity of provocations remained relatively restrained.
In the first half of the year, Pyongyang carried out a series of strategic weapon tests. However, as the year progressed, its focus pivoted to low-intensity activities targeting South Korea, while simultaneously deepening its military involvement in the Ukraine war. This transition suggests that from mid-2024 onwards, North Korea has strategically opted to maintain a calibrated level of tension through persistent, low-level provocations, rather than triggering outright escalation.
In total, North Korea conducted 22 tests and training launches involving strategic weapons in 2024. Of these, a striking 81% were centered on tactical nuclear delivery systems – underscoring a persistent focus on enhancing battlefield nuclear capabilities. Key developments included the unveiling of two hypersonic medium-range ballistic missiles, notably the Hwasong-16n, and the Hwasong-19, a solid-fuel intercontinental ballistic missile (ICBM). However, Pyongyang’s effort to validate its ICBM capabilities through a satellite reconnaissance launch faltered, particularly following a failed launch in May 2024.
Compared to 2023, the frequency of strategic provocations dropped, but North Korea pivoted toward the operational deployment of nuclear systems and actively demonstrated its capacity for nuclear weapon mass production. Missile launch vehicles and uranium enrichment facilities were deployed in a way that showcased not just technological advancement but battlefield readiness.
The regime continued to weaponize the gray zone – executing provocations that stop short of conventional warfare. From dispersing “sewage balloons” across the border to jamming GPS signals and broadcasting propaganda, North Korea sustained a campaign of asymmetric disruption. Infrastructure sabotage, including the destruction of inter-Korean roads, railways, and power lines, further heightened tensions along the border. These acts, while aggressive, appear to reflect a broader strategy of reinforcing domestic defenses rather than triggering full-scale conflict.
This deliberate use of low-intensity measures appears to be a calculated effort to conserve resources while maintaining adversarial pressure, setting the stage for a potential escalation in 2025. This strategic buildup has been buoyed by deepening North Korea-Russia relations.
On June 19, 2024, Kim Jong Un and Russian President Vladimir Putin signed a sweeping strategic partnership agreement. By October, the alliance had evolved into a full-fledged military partnership, with Pyongyang dispatching an estimated 11,000 troops to support Russian operations in Ukraine. In return, North Korea is believed to have received advanced weapons, as well as nuclear and missile technologies, which could serve as the foundation for more audacious provocations in the near future.
Policy Implications for South Korea
As 2025 marks the final year of North Korea’s current five-year defense development plan, the 80th anniversary of the ruling Workers’ Party, and the beginning of the second term for Donald Trump, it is widely anticipated that Pyongyang will escalate its military activities against both South Korea and the United States.
This potential for heightened tensions mirrors the volatile climate of 2017, which ultimately transitioned into diplomatic engagement in 2018. It is likely that North Korea aims to replicate this tension-escalation-to-negotiation cycle to its advantage.
For the South Korean government, this scenario amid Trump administration presents layered challenges, although the current military posture remains stable, there is concern about the strength of the command structure during this transitional period.
Trump’s transactional approach to alliances suggests that demands for greater defense cost-sharing or a reduction in U.S. Forces Korea (USFK) could be a challenge. Should South Korean leadership hesitate in making swift and strategic decisions, the cohesion and effectiveness of the ROK-U.S. alliance could be undermined.
In light of this, it is imperative for Seoul and Washington to maintain a united and consistent front. North Korea’s involvement in the Ukraine war introduces additional complexity that could factor into broader geopolitical negotiations, particularly as the Trump administration seeks a grand bargain to resolve the conflict.
Should this resolve falter, 2025 could end up being a strategic triumph for North Korea, one that shifts the regional balance and emboldens further authoritarian assertiveness.
If there’s one point of agreement across Canada, and increasingly among its concerned allies, it’s the dismal state of the Canadian Army. But despite growing global threats and rising expectations, the Canadian Armed Forces, CAF biggest problem is not a shortage of money; in fact, as a recent Radio-Canada investigation reveals, it’s the inability to spend what it already has that’s dragging the military into deeper dysfunction.
Defence Minister Bill Blair in strong words described the CAF as being in a “death spiral” during the Ottawa Conference on Security and Defence in March. It’s not hard to see why. The forces are currently short about 16,000 personnel. Critical procurement programs are behind schedule or indefinitely stalled. NATO continues to pressure Canada to meet the 2 percent of GDP defense spending target, but spending alone isn’t the cure.
From 2017 to 2026, Canada’s defense budget has surged by 70 percent, yet capability and preparedness have lagged dramatically behind.
The Canadian Army’s artillery acquisition is a particularly sobering example: it took two decades to acquire just over 100 artillery pieces – while Russia lost over 1,500 in just two and a half years in Ukraine!
Thus, this reflects a deeply embedded dysfunction in how Canada plans, funds, and executes its defense strategy.
Billions Left Unused, Year After Year
More funding may sound like a solution, but according to Radio-Canada, “if tomorrow morning the Canadian government were to allocate $15 billion more annually to the Department of National Defence to meet its NATO commitments, the Canadian Forces wouldn’t know what to do with it.”
Unspent defense funds have surged. Since 2018-2019, annual underspending has ballooned from $500 million to $2.5 billion by 2021-2022, roughly 9.4% of the total defense budget. Go back further, and the numbers are even more confounding: in the decade before Trudeau came to power, nearly a quarter of the Department of National Defence’s procurement budget, over $7 billion, went untouched.
The 2017 defense policy paper, “Strong, Secure, Engaged,” had promised a bold new chapter with $553 billion in additional spending over 20 years. But seven years later, many of those promises remain unfulfilled, and the gap between rhetoric and reality is only widening.
Why Can’t Canada Spend Its Defense Money?
Officially, the Department of National Defence says it adopts a “flexible funding model,” allowing for fluctuations in how projects are financed across years. But insiders paint a different picture. Chronic project mismanagement, an inability to meet timelines, and a shortfall of skilled personnel – both civilian and military – have created a toxic cycle. As a result, funds go unspent, projects go unfulfilled, and Canada falls further behind its allies in strategic readiness.
A Department Stagnant While the World Moves Forward
Between 2010 and 2023, Canada’s federal public service workforce grew by 26%, yet the Department of National Defence (DND) experienced almost no growth in staffing, only a marginal 0.2% increase. This comes despite an overwhelming surge in the scope of projects aimed at modernizing Canada’s defense capabilities, including the acquisition of planes, helicopters, tanks, and ships. As one source close to the department’s budget process bluntly stated to Radio-Canada, “We don’t lack projects or ideas for spending money; we’re just incapable of doing it.”
Procurement Problems, An Ongoing Struggle
The challenges surrounding defense procurement are not new, and they have become a point of contention across the political spectrum. Figures like federal ministers Jean-Yves Duclos and Bill Blair, opposition MPs such as James Bezan, and DND’s own annual plans all indicate the same issue – systemic inefficiencies that continue to plague the department.
Critics, including Bezan, argue that the Trudeau government’s defense policies have failed to deliver on their promises. He pointed out that the “Strong, Secure, Engaged” defense policy document, released under the Liberals’ leadership, was little more than a series of unfulfilled promises. According to Bezan, “They missed every marker set out in the original defense policy for defense spending, resulting in massive gaps in equipment and readiness. Trudeau has overspent in every department except our military, yet his government promised to cut almost $1 billion annually from the defense budget and allowed over $10 billion more to lapse over eight years.”
The Cost of Delays, A Decade of Inaction
Perhaps the most glaring example of the DND’s failure to meet its own deadlines is the delayed replacement of the Royal Navy’s destroyers and frigates. Announced in 2011 by the Harper government, this project was supposed to deliver 15 new combat ships, but thirteen years later, not a single ship has been built. Instead, Defense Minister Bill Blair’s recent visit to the Irving shipyard in Halifax to mark the “first steel cut” felt like a long-forgotten milestone. What was originally slated to cost $26 billion is now projected to run up a staggering $60 billion. And the Parliamentary Budget Officer, Yves Giroux, has estimated that the final price could balloon to over $80 billion, approximately $5.3 billion per ship.
Despite these massive cost overruns, the Trudeau government insisted that efforts to improve defense procurement were underway. In his speech at CANSEC 2024, Minister of Public Services and Procurement Jean-Yves Duclos stressed the government’s commitment to reforming the system. “Defense procurement can be a long and arduous process. We are undertaking a review of defense procurement to determine how we can accelerate the process. To achieve this transformation, we will need to challenge the status quo,” Duclos said.
The Army’s Struggles. Recruitment and Readiness
Meanwhile, the Canadian Army faces an array of challenges that further undermine its operational readiness. With a shortfall of over 16,000 personnel, compounded by poor living conditions and outdated recruitment efforts, the Army is struggling to maintain its strength. Its equipment gaps, including inadequate air defense systems and artillery, prevent Canada from integrating effectively with NATO allies or responding to emerging global threats.
Moreover, deficiencies in training and subpar infrastructure have compounded these challenges, damaging both morale and operational capacity. The need for systemic reform and significant political will has never been more urgent.
The Canadian Army is struggling with a series of interconnected crises that threaten its ability to recruit, retain, equip, and train personnel capable of addressing the evolving nature of warfare in the 2020s.
These challenges go beyond logistical and administrative inefficiencies; they strike at the very heart of the Army’s operational capacity, endangering Canada’s ability to defend itself and to contribute effectively to collective security alongside its allies.
Retention is a growing issue that adds to the problem. Many soldiers leave the service due to poor living conditions, limited opportunities for career progression, and the constant stress that comes with burnout. Housing shortages at major military bases, such as Petawawa and Edmonton, add to the financial strain felt by service members and their families.
For example, soldiers stationed at Petawawa report having to contend with rising local rent prices, forcing some to commute long distances or accept substandard on-base housing. These challenges not only contribute to high attrition but also damage morale, leaving the remaining personnel overburdened and demoralized.
In contrast to countries like the United States and Australia, which have built successful recruitment campaigns that illustrate military service as a path to career development—particularly in fields like science, technology, engineering, and mathematics (STEM)—Canada’s messaging lacks a clear, compelling narrative.
The country’s defense forces fail to promote their role in shaping national security and contributing to global peace in a way that resonates with modern priorities. If Canada hopes to reverse the decline in recruitment, it must reconsider its approach and craft a message that aligns more closely with the interests and values of younger Canadians.
Deficiencies in Equipment and Training
The Canadian Army’s challenges extend far beyond recruitment and retention issues only, encompassing critical deficiencies in equipment and training that render it increasingly ill-prepared for modern warfare. The military’s procurement system, burdened by persistent delays and budget overruns, has struggled to provide the tools required to meet evolving threats.
While Canada has made some upgrades to its fleet of Light Armoured Vehicles, these vehicles remain inadequate against adversaries armed with sophisticated technologies like drones and precision-guided munitions.
The Army’s arsenal also lacks crucial systems such as long-range artillery, advanced air defense systems, and unmanned aerial systems. These gaps are particularly concerning given the rapid pace of technological advancements in warfare. NATO allies, including Poland, have made substantial investments in modernizing their forces, including acquiring HIMARS artillery systems. Canada’s delays in procuring similar equipment underscore a dangerous complacency and a failure to keep pace with the threats of the 21st century.
During recent NATO exercises, Canadian forces struggled to integrate with allies equipped with advanced electronic warfare and drone systems, showing the operational risks posed by these technological shortcomings. While Canada’s contributions to NATO operations, such as the deployment of 800 troops to Latvia, are symbolically important, they lack the scale and sophistication needed to present a credible deterrent to Russian aggression. In contrast, Germany’s expanded deployment to Lithuania, which included cutting-edge combat vehicles and integrated air defense systems, illustrates the kind of technological commitment that Canada must strive to match.
The Unmet Promises of ‘Strong, Secure, Engaged’
The Liberal government’s defense policy, Strong, Secure, Engaged, was hailed as a transformative strategy that promised significant investments in defense. However, many of its key commitments remain unrealized. For instance, the procurement of new logistics trucks, which has been a pressing need for years, has faced continued delays. As a result, Canadian soldiers are still relying on aging vehicles ill-suited for modern operations. While acquisitions like Leopard 2 tanks are steps in the right direction, they do not compensate for decades of underinvestment in the Army’s capabilities.
Training Gaps and Modern Warfare
The Army’s training infrastructure has also failed to adapt to the rapidly changing nature of warfare. In modern conflicts, success increasingly depends on the integration of advanced technologies such as cyber capabilities, autonomous systems, and electronic warfare. Unfortunately, Canada’s training exercises remain focused on outdated paradigms that emphasize conventional warfare rather than adaptability and technological integration.
For example, while nations like the United Kingdom and the United States have already incorporated joint multi-domain operations into their training regimens, Canada’s approach remains rooted in traditional tactics. The recent Maple Resolve training exercise, though valuable for basic readiness, revealed significant gaps in Canada’s ability to simulate electronic warfare scenarios or counter-drone operations – domains that are becoming critical in high-intensity conflicts.
Substandard Living Conditions and Infrastructure
The Army’s operational challenges are compounded by inadequate housing and infrastructure, which further hinder its readiness and morale. Many soldiers are forced to live in substandard housing or face exorbitant rental prices near bases, placing unnecessary strain on their financial and emotional well-being. The lack of adequate facilities for training and medical care only adds to these burdens, creating an environment in which morale continues to deteriorate.
This neglect is more than just an oversight – it represents a breach of the social contract between the state and the service members it asks to defend the country. For example, reports from bases like CFB Edmonton highlight deteriorating barracks, plagued by issues such as mold and insufficient heating, symbolizing the government’s disregard for the welfare of its military personnel.
A Scattershot Deployment and Strategic Incoherence
The Canadian Army’s approach to deployment exemplifies its broader strategic incoherence. The decision to stretch limited resources across numerous missions dilutes their effectiveness and places undue strain on already overstretched personnel. A prime example of this is the deployment in Latvia, where a small contingent of troops, without the necessary logistical or technological support, highlights the perils of prioritizing quantity over quality. A more focused and strategic approach, such as reinforcing the Latvia deployment or reallocating resources to Arctic security, would better align with Canada’s strategic priorities.
The Arctic is a critical domain for Canadian sovereignty and national security, yet the lack of investment in key capabilities, such as icebreakers, surveillance systems, and mobility platforms, has left Canada vulnerable. As competitors like Russia and China increasingly eye the Arctic for resource development, Canada’s absence of a robust security presence in the region puts its interests at risk. The recent announcement of Chinese interest in Arctic resource development underscores the urgency of strengthening Canada’s presence and capabilities in this domain.
Political Will. A Key Ingredient for Change
None of these reforms can succeed without strong political will. The Trudeau government demonstrated little inclination to tackle these challenges, favoring symbolic gestures over real change. The present government might provide the political leadership required to confront these issues head-on, assuming that defense becomes a core policy priority. However, even under new leadership, the path to recovery will be difficult. The depth of the systemic problems within the Army demands long-term planning, consistent investment, and a cultural shift within the military to embrace innovation and adaptability.
While recent speeches suggest the possibility of reform, action must follow words to revitalize the Canadian Armed Forces (CAF) and fulfill its national and international commitments. These include contributions to NATO and ensuring that Canadian forces are ready for high-intensity conflicts. The war in Ukraine has shown the need for decisive national leadership and a unified commitment to defense, qualities that have often been lacking in Canadian governance, bureaucracy, and public opinion.
The conflict in Ukraine also indicates the importance of military equipment suited to high-intensity, mobile warfare, and the need for such equipment in substantial quantities. The war of attrition is back, as evidenced by the staggering losses of Russian military equipment – nearly 9,900 pieces of military gear, including 2,400 trucks, 2,200 infantry fighting vehicles, and 1,900 tanks. Ukraine’s counteroffensive operations have also resulted in significant equipment losses. The human cost of this conflict has been staggering, with estimates of over 500,000 dead and wounded on the Ukrainian side alone.
Steve Saideman, Professor of International Affairs at Carleton University, points to one of the critical issues in this modern conflict: how can Canada prioritize quantity in an era where procurement strategies have focused on acquiring top-tier equipment capable of serving multiple roles? This shift, Saideman argues, may be incompatible with the high-intensity warfare Canada would face in a conflict with China or Russia. In his words, “I just don’t see Canada having that capacity. If we got into a serious shooting match with either China or Russia, we’d lose ships, and that would require replacement faster than the replacement ships that we’ve been doing right now.”
The Last Bit, A National Will to Adapt
For Canada to meet the challenges of the 21st century, there must be a firm national will and political conviction to adapt to these new realities. Military historian Sean Maloney asserts that this will is critical: “It is absolutely fundamental to any effort that you’re talking about. And it does not exist in this country, either at the elected political level, in the bureaucracy, or the population.” The Canadian military possesses resources, but it lacks the ability to deploy them effectively. The road to recovery will not be easy, it will require reforming processes, fostering innovation, and rebuilding national resolve.
Whether Canada can make these changes in time to meet the rapidly evolving security challenges of the 21st century remains uncertain, but the need for decisive action has never been clearer.
Backing Kurdish autonomy might give Saudi Arabia a useful card to play against Iran, whose influence in Syria remains strong. But there’s a catch, such support could fracture Syria further. If the Kurds push for federalism, it could weaken Syria’s Arab identity and open the door to broader regional instability. In short, what looks like a smart move on the chessboard could quickly spiral into a diplomatic headache.
As of early 2025, things in Syria are still far from calm. Hayat Tahrir al-Sham (HTS) has taken control of Damascus and about a third of the country. Saudi Arabia is now dealing with an interim Syrian government led by Ahmed Al Shara – an administration that’s under sanctions from the EU, U.S., and UN, and one that hasn’t exactly united the opposition forces under one flag.
To make matters worse, the temporary constitution, which puts Islamic law at the heart of legislation, has stirred unrest among minorities. HTS’s violent crackdown on Alawites and Druze, leaving hundreds dead, has only deepened the divides. Syria, already devastated by over a decade of conflict, is now also battling extreme poverty. Around 16.5 million Syrians are dependent on humanitarian aid this year.
Meanwhile, Kurdish and Druze groups have been protesting the interim government’s failure to address minority rights. Turkish military operations and strikes from the Turkish-backed Syrian National Army have also targeted Kurdish areas, displacing over a million people and causing significant casualties among civilians and fighters alike.
This all paints a grim picture for Syria’s future – and complicates things for Saudi Arabia. With clashes erupting between the interim government, the Kurds, opposition factions, Alawites, and even the occasional Israeli strike in the south, Riyadh is approaching the situation with measured caution.
Rather than rushing into alliances or bold political statements, Saudi Arabia is keeping a close eye on how things unfold, especially regarding the Kurds. It’s a watch-and-wait strategy, one that seeks to maintain regional balance without getting dragged into Syria’s internal storm.
Saudi Arabia’s Policy Towards Syria, Stability First, Politics Later
When it comes to the new Syria, Saudi Arabia is playing it safe and smart. Its approach is all about promoting stability, ensuring security, and keeping Islamist groups at bay. Riyadh isn’t interested in ideological experiments or revolutions, it wants a Syria that’s functional, Arab, and no longer a launchpad for anti-Israel rhetoric.
Riyadh is also keeping a close eye on Türkiye and Qatar – two regional players with deep stakes in Syria’s future. For Saudi Arabia, bringing Syria back into the Arab fold is a top priority. This includes nudging Damascus away from its past nationalist, anti-Israel stance and toward a more pragmatic, Arab-centered identity.
One thing Saudi Arabia is definitely happy about?
Iran losing its grip on Syrian politics. The idea of a Syria without Iranian boots on the ground is music to Riyadh’s ears. Going forward, Saudi policy will likely focus on three main pillars: ensuring Syria stays Arab, promoting an inclusive government (with space for Kurds and other minorities), and solving the thorny issue of Captagon smuggling, which has become a serious concern for Saudi society and national security.
Cautious Engagement with the Kurds
On the Kurdish question, Saudi Arabia is cautiously watching from the sidelines. It hasn’t taken a firm position yet, and for good reason.
Three big concerns are driving this wait-and-see approach –
Political Islam: Saudi Arabia is strongly opposed to political Islam, and groups like Hayat Tahrir al-Sham (HTS)—now controlling a third of Syria—are seen as potential destabilizers.
Rivalries with Türkiye: Türkiye’s growing influence in Syria directly threatens Saudi Arabia’s interests in the region. Ankara’s hostility toward the Kurds complicates things even further.
Fragmentation Fears: With so many players involved and so much ground already fractured, Saudi Arabia worries that Kurdish autonomy could deepen the divide and make a united Syria a pipe dream.
Interestingly, Saudi Arabia doesn’t have a Kurdish minority of its own, so it doesn’t carry any internal baggage around Kurdish rights. Its overall stance is to respect minority rights but keep national unity intact. When clashes arise between regional powers and the Kurds, Saudi Arabia usually opts for quiet diplomacy rather than dramatic interventions.
The Israel Factor- Complicating the Kurdish Equation
Then there’s Israel – a wildcard in the Syrian drama. After Assad’s fall, Israel wasted no time ramping up its activities in Syria. Tel Aviv occupied buffer zones in the Golan Heights and launched hundreds of airstrikes, crippling 70–80% of Syria’s strategic military assets. On top of that, Netanyahu pledged to double the Israeli population in the Golan Heights – a move that sent a clear signal about Israel’s long-term plans.
Israel has also shown consistent support for Kurdish autonomy, having backed the 2017 Kurdish independence referendum. It sees the Kurds and other minorities like the Druze as potential partners in keeping Syria weak, fragmented, and non-threatening to Israeli interests. This strategy echoes Israel’s old “Alliance of the Periphery” doctrine from the 1950s, building relationships with non-Arab or minority groups to counterbalance surrounding Arab nations.
Saudi Arabia isn’t thrilled about this. Israeli support for Kurdish autonomy could encourage more fragmentation in Syria, making it harder for Riyadh to push its vision of an Arab, stable, and united Syrian state. The Kingdom fears that Israel’s influence – especially its recent moves to defend Druze communities like in the Jaramana incident – could disrupt the regional balance and indirectly empower minority-led separatism.
A month before Assad’s fall, Israeli Minister Gideon Sa’ar openly said that Israel should build ties with the Kurds and Druze, calling them “natural allies.” For Riyadh, this kind of rhetoric is a red flag. It complicates Saudi goals in Syria and adds yet another layer to the already tangled web of alliances and rivalries in the region.
Saudi Arabia, Syria, and the Kurdish-Israeli Equation, A Delicate Balance of Power
While Israel promotes the idea of a demilitarized buffer zone in southern Syria, there are whispers in regional policy circles about a more ambitious plan – what some call a potential “David’s Corridor.” This hypothetical corridor would link the Druze communities in southern Syria with the Kurdish forces in the northeast, creating a chain of minority alliances under quiet Israeli patronage. But geopolitical reality is rarely that neat.
A recent peace agreement between Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF) commander Mazloum Abdi and Ahmed al-Shara, leader of the Hay’at Tahrir al-Sham (HTS), has effectively derailed any plans for such a corridor, at least for now. Even so, Kurdish opposition to the temporary Syrian constitution, which significantly limits their hopes for autonomy or independence, means that cooperation with Israel, or other external actors, remains very much on the table in the future.
Israeli Minister of Diaspora Affairs and Combating Antisemitism, Amichai Chikli, made Tel Aviv’s intentions clear when he posted on X:
“Israel will act to protect the Druze minority in areas near its border, and efforts must be made to defend all minority populations in Syria, with an emphasis on the Kurds, from the jihadist genocide of Hay’at Tahrir al-Sham.”
This statement illustrates Israel’s evolving strategy – build influence by projecting itself as a protector of vulnerable minorities within Syria’s fractured society.
Riyadh’s Calculated Watch on Kurdish-Israeli Relations
For Saudi Arabia, this emerging triangle between Israel, the Kurds, and the Druze is a strategic puzzle. While Riyadh wants stability in Syria, it remains deeply wary of the Kurds’ historical affinity with Israel, an alliance that has earned the Kurds the reputation of being a “second Israel” in the region.
Saudi Arabia will be watching closely how the Kurds engage with foreign powers, particularly Israel. The fear isn’t just about Kurdish aspirations; it’s about the potential of a precedent, a model of minority-led governance backed by Western powers that could inspire other fragmentation in Arab nations. Riyadh’s skepticism stems from a deep concern: that Kurdish-Israeli cooperation could give rise to a more permanent political and military alignment, one which Saudi Arabia does not control and that might challenge its influence in the Levant.
Israel, meanwhile, is already extending support to the Druze in southern Syria, through publicized aid programs for the 50,000 Druze near the Israeli border and the half-million residents in the Jabal al-Druze region in As-Suwayda. Reports suggest that Druze are being allowed to work in Israel, a move with significant long-term implications. Such initiatives not only strengthen Israel’s soft power but could be replicated with the Kurds, laying the groundwork for deeper strategic ties.
The concern in Riyadh is that these social and economic overtures could eventually translate into a formalized political relationship between Israel and the Syrian Kurds – complete with intelligence sharing, military training, and even advanced technology transfers, either directly or through Western intermediaries. Saudi Arabia is under no illusion about Israel’s ability to quietly shape regional dynamics and Tel Aviv’s growing comfort with backchannel diplomacy makes this prospect all the more plausible.
The United States
The American military footprint in Syria, especially its roughly 2,000 troops based in Al-Tanf and other eastern strongholds, remains a cornerstone of the anti-ISIS strategy. U.S. forces continue to work closely with Kurdish militias like the SDF and AANES, providing them not only military hardware and training but also international legitimacy.
For Saudi Arabia, this presence is both a blessing and a curse.
On the one hand, the U.S. acts as a powerful counterweight to Iran’s so-called Axis of Resistance, a web of proxies stretching from Tehran to the Mediterranean. The American presence helps disrupt the infamous “Shiite Crescent” and prevents Iran from consolidating control over Syria’s strategic infrastructure.
But on the other hand, this alignment complicates Riyadh’s long-term interests. The Saudi objective is to maintain Syria’s Arab identity and territorial unity. Yet the U.S. backing of Kurdish semi-autonomy, however informal, risks institutionalizing Syria’s fragmentation. That’s a dangerous precedent, not just for Syria, but for the broader Arab world.
Türkiye, The Spoiler in the Room
More complexity comes from Türkiye. Ankara views the SDF and YPG as affiliates of the PKK, a designated terrorist organization in Türkiye and the U.S. Despite that designation, the U.S. continues to support these groups due to their effectiveness in fighting ISIS.
This puts Washington in an awkward position – caught between its NATO ally Türkiye and its local Kurdish partners. For Saudi Arabia, this U.S.-Türkiye tension is a double-edged sword. While it curbs Ankara’s ambition to dominate northern Syria, it also injects more uncertainty into an already volatile region.
Türkiye’s aggression toward Kurdish groups means that Riyadh must tread carefully. While the Kingdom doesn’t oppose Kurdish rights, it strongly opposes a scenario where Kurdish empowerment leads to the Balkanization of Syria – a scenario that could embolden other minority-led secessionist movements across the region.
Oil, Gas, and the Real Stakes
Much of this geopolitical tug-of-war comes down to resources. About 70% of Syria’s oil and gas fields lie in Kurdish-controlled areas. Former President Donald Trump was unusually blunt when he declared that the U.S. was staying in Syria “for the oil.” This open admission raised eyebrows in Riyadh, where energy geopolitics are always high on the agenda.
Saudi Arabia’s interest isn’t to control Syrian oil, but to ensure that it benefits a unified Syrian state, not splinter factions or separatist governments. A U.S. policy that prioritizes Kurdish autonomy, especially if backed by Israel, could push Saudi Arabia to reassess its alignment, perhaps even tolerating Türkiye’s growing influence as the lesser evil.
In fact, Trump’s rhetoric suggested a certain sympathy for Ankara’s moves in Syria, even when they came at the Kurds’ expense. Should the U.S. scale back its engagement under an “America First” doctrine, Türkiye may step in to fill the vacuum. For Riyadh, the choice may come down to accepting Turkish dominance over the Kurdish northeast or watching Syria slide into further division.
The Kurds as a Tool to Pressure Rivals
The Kurds have pursued an active and inclusive foreign policy, engaging with a broad range of actors, including Israel. This strategic openness has increasingly made Kurdish groups a useful geopolitical lever for regional powers. Among those, Saudi Arabia has sought to capitalize on Kurdish influence to pressure its primary rivals, particularly Iran and Türkiye.
Following setbacks in Syria, Gaza, and Lebanon on October 7, Iran has been attempting to regain its foothold in Syria. Turkish media has claimed that Tehran made a failed attempt to supply drones to Syrian Kurds — a move that was criticized by Turkish Foreign Minister Hakan Fidan during a February 26 interview.
Interestingly, the very tools Iran uses to gain influence in Syria can also be employed against it. Saudi Arabia has increasingly used soft power, financial aid, and investment to build leverage in Kurdish regions. Its involvement in the Kurdistan Region of Iraq’s (KRI) 2017 independence referendum raised eyebrows, suggesting Riyadh was maneuvering to counter both Iranian and Turkish ambitions.
Retired Saudi General Anwar Eshki once advocated for the creation of a “Greater Kurdistan” through peaceful means, arguing that such a development would curtail the expansionist aspirations of Türkiye, Iran, and Iraq. This drew sharp reactions from Tehran. In November 2016, General Rahim Safavi, former commander of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) and advisor to Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, accused the Saudi consulate in the KRI of providing arms to “counter-revolutionary groups.”
Such actions reflect Riyadh’s calculated approach: if Iran expands its influence among Syrian Kurds, Saudi Arabia is ready to clip its wings through diplomatic and financial channels.
This same strategic lens also applies to Türkiye. During Türkiye’s third military operation in northern Syria – “Operation Peace Spring” launched on October 9, 2019 – Saudi Arabia and the Arab League condemned Ankara’s actions and reiterated support for Syria’s sovereignty and territorial integrity. President Erdogan sharply responded, stating, “Saudi Arabia should look in the mirror,” alluding to its intervention in Yemen.
Throughout Türkiye’s military campaigns in northern Syria, Saudi Arabia has been quietly supporting the Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF), composed largely of Kurdish fighters, and building ties with Arab tribes in the region. In 2019, Riyadh reportedly provided $100 million to the SDF and affiliated Arab groups to maintain cohesion and resist Turkish advances. Saudi Minister of State Thamer Al-Sabhan visited SDF-controlled areas in Deir ez-Zor and Raqqa in June 2019, followed by an SDF delegation’s trip to Saudi Arabia later that November.
Through this outreach, Riyadh sought to entrench itself as a stakeholder in northern Syria, bolster local resistance against Turkish incursions, and assert influence over the future of Syrian Kurdish autonomy.
The Last Bit
Saudi Arabia’s engagement with the Syrian Kurds presents both strategic opportunities and risks. Riyadh views the U.S. military presence in Syria as a bulwark against Iran’s regional network, the so-called “Shiite Crescent” — stretching from Tehran to Beirut. The U.S. role also helps offset Turkish attempts to sideline the Kurds from Syria’s political future, providing Riyadh an avenue to shape the post-Assad landscape.
Beyond geopolitics, Kurdish-held territories, particularly in oil-rich northeastern Syria, offer economic incentives. Gaining influence there could give Saudi Arabia a stake in Syria’s reconstruction and energy wealth.
However, Riyadh must tread carefully. Supporting Kurdish autonomy risks igniting nationalist sentiments closer to home, particularly among Saudi Arabia’s own marginalized communities. Additionally, Riyadh’s tightrope walk is complicated by its ties with Israel and the U.S., both of whom have their own interests in Kurdish regions.
Israeli support for Kurdish independence, while strategically aligned with Saudi aims to weaken Iran, could inadvertently trigger broader regional fragmentation – undermining Saudi Arabia’s long-term goals.
Furthermore, the U.S. presence in Kurdish-controlled zones, though advantageous, forces Saudi Arabia into a complex game of balancing alliances — aiding the Kurds without provoking Ankara too aggressively or appearing overly aligned with Israeli agendas.
In this chessboard of shifting loyalties and tactical alignments, Saudi Arabia’s use of the Kurds as a geopolitical tool might yield short-term dividends but it is a delicate strategy that risks blowback if not managed with subtlety and foresight.
The Panama Canal, one of the world’s most strategic waterways is becoming a battleground for superpower rivalry. As Washington and Beijing engage in an increasingly fierce geopolitical tug-of-war, Panama finds itself caught in the middle.
In recent weeks, accusations have flown thick and fast. US President Donald Trump declared that “China controls the Panama Canal,” a claim that has sparked anger in Panama and concern across Latin America. China, for its part, has categorically denied the allegations, calling them part of a “disinformation campaign” by the United States.
“We Built It, But They Run It”, Trump’s Canal Takeover Talk
Trump’s remarks have added fuel to an already volatile situation. In March, during a campaign event, he told supporters:
“We gave it away, and now China controls the Panama Canal. That’s one of the most strategic locations in the world, and they run it. We should take it back.”
His words stirred up old wounds and fears that the U.S. may be looking to assert control once again over a canal it handed back to Panama in 1999 under the Torrijos-Carter Treaties.
These comments weren’t dismissed as political bluster by all. In Panama and other parts of Latin America, many saw it as a veiled threat, particularly coming from a U.S. president who returned to power.
BlackRock, Ports, and Shadows of Influence
While the U.S. has not formally accused China of controlling the canal, it has raised concerns over Beijing’s commercial presence in the country. Chief among them is Chinese conglomerate CK Hutchison, which operates ports at both entrances of the canal, Balboa on the Pacific side and Colón on the Atlantic.
In March, U.S. investment behemoth BlackRock struck a $22.8 billion deal to acquire 43 ports globally from CK Hutchison, including the two in Panama. The deal raised eyebrows in both Washington and Beijing, as it shifts control of these key terminals from a Hong Kong-based firm – long alleged to be under China’s sway – to a U.S.-linked financial giant.
The Panamanian government responded by announcing an audit into the original 25-year lease signed with Hutchison, citing “irregularities,” although the sale to BlackRock appears to be proceeding.
Panama’s Balancing Act And Walking the Diplomatic Tightrope
Panama’s government, under President Laurentino Cortizo and now President-elect José Raúl Mulino, has attempted to walk a delicate line. In December, Panama formally withdrew from China’s Belt and Road Initiative, a move that was seen in Washington as a win.
But Panama is also eager not to be perceived as choosing sides. During a joint visit in March by Republican Congressman Pete Hegseth and Senator Marco Rubio, tensions surfaced when U.S. officials claimed Panama had agreed to waive tolls for U.S. Navy ships. Mulino denied any such deal had been struck.
Panama’s Minister for Canal Affairs, José Ramón Icaza, later said that toll concessions would only be possible in exchange for full U.S. recognition of Panama’s sovereignty over the canal. However, this crucial clause was mysteriously missing from the English-language version of his statement, adding to the diplomatic confusion.
China Responds, “We Are Not the Villain Here”
China has pushed back strongly against Trump’s comments and U.S. insinuations. The Chinese Foreign Ministry said:
“The remarks are baseless and part of a broader U.S. attempt to smear China’s cooperation with Latin America.”
Indeed, many in Latin America view the U.S. posture as hypocritical. After years of neglect, Washington is now suddenly alarmed by China’s presence in the region, despite China being a top trading partner and infrastructure investor across much of Central and South America.
In a direct rebuke, Congressman Pete Hegseth said:
“China did not build the canal, does not own the canal, and should not weaponize the canal.”
A Strategic Chokepoint and a Sovereignty Struggle
The Panama Canal is more than a shipping lane – roughly 5% of global trade passes through its locks, and any disruption could have major ripple effects on supply chains and military logistics.
For Panama, the fear is twofold: first, that the canal will become militarized under external pressure; and second, that it will lose its hard-won sovereignty. President-elect Mulino has tried to assert that “Panama will not allow itself to become a battlefield for global powers,” but with U.S. warships increasing their regional presence and Chinese economic interests deeply entrenched, that neutrality may be hard to maintain.
A New Cold War in the Tropics?
While there are no Chinese warships stationed in the canal, and no evidence of direct Chinese control over the waterway, the perception battle has already begun.
Trump’s threat to “take it back,” the BlackRock port acquisitions, and the toll waiver tug-of-war are not isolated events. They are part of a broader reassertion of U.S. influence in Latin America, just as China attempts to deepen its own ties. And Panama, strategically vital, historically scarred, and economically dependent, may once again be forced to choose a side.
Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu landed in Washington for a hastily arranged White House visit, carrying a heavy briefcase of geopolitical anxieties, chief among them: Iran’s nuclear ambitions, President Donald Trump’s surprise tariffs, Turkey’s rising clout in Syria, and the ongoing 18-month war in Gaza.
If Netanyahu had hoped for the easy political windfalls he once enjoyed during Trump’s first term, he was in for a rude awakening.
The meeting’s central focus was supposed to be the 17% tariff the Trump administration had abruptly slapped on Israeli exports just a week earlier. In a bid to preempt damage, Israel had zeroed out its own limited tariffs on U.S. goods a day prior. But the gesture fell flat.
Seated beside Trump in the Oval Office, Netanyahu, in typical form, lavished praise on the American president, pledging to swiftly remove trade barriers and deficits. “We are going to eliminate the tariffs and rapidly,” he said.
Trump, however, was unmoved. “Israel gets $4 billion a year from the United States—congratulations, by the way. That’s pretty good,” he quipped, refusing to commit to rolling back the tariffs. “Maybe not, maybe not,” he added when pressed.
It was a far cry from the days of unilateral U.S. concessions: moving the American embassy to Jerusalem, recognizing Israeli sovereignty over the Golan Heights, and brokering normalization deals with Gulf states. Netanyahu, once the beneficiary of a cascade of political gifts from Trump, now left Washington without a single clear win.
His efforts to spin the visit – illustrating that he was the first foreign leader to meet Trump in his second term, and the first to raise the issue of tariffs, did little to mask the lack of substance. No deliverables. No promises. No headlines to take home.
And then came the Iran bombshell, but not the one Netanyahu expected.
The Iran Letdown
In the lead-up to the Washington meeting, the Israeli media had been humming with speculation: Would this be the moment Netanyahu secures U.S. backing for a strike on Iran? The signals, at least on the surface, looked promising. Six U.S. B-2 stealth bombers were reportedly stationed in the Indian Ocean. A second American aircraft carrier had quietly arrived in the Middle East. And the Sunday headline in Israel’s popular Yedioth Ahronoth shouted confidently: “IRAN FIRST.” The tone was clear – if Tehran was ever going to feel a “heavy blow,” this was the moment.
But the much-anticipated discussion on Iran turned out to be a political fizzle.
Rather than endorsing Israeli military action, or even hinting at coordinated pressure, Trump offered only vague remarks and no assurance of support. Sources familiar with the talks said the president steered the conversation toward negotiation and deterrence, rather than escalation.
For Netanyahu, who had built much of his recent foreign policy on portraying Iran as an existential threat requiring immediate confrontation, this was both disappointing and deflating. The bold narrative of imminent action crumbled within hours.
What stung more was the optics. Netanyahu had framed the visit as urgent, strategically timed, and potentially historic. But in Washington, Iran didn’t dominate the agenda, it barely made a dent.
Hence, with no joint statement, no new red lines drawn, and certainly no green light for Israeli military action, the Iran chapter of this visit ended with a whisper, not a bang.
Turkey’s Growing Shadow
While Iran may have dominated Israeli headlines, another rising force in the region is giving Netanyahu sleepless nights is Turkey.
Under President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, Turkey has expanded its footprint in northern Syria, leveraging both military operations and soft-power tactics to establish de facto control over large swathes of territory once held by Kurdish and ISIS forces. What began as a counterinsurgency campaign has morphed into a broader regional ambition, one that’s increasingly clashing with Israeli interests.
During the White House meeting, Netanyahu raised concerns about Turkish-backed militias operating close to Israeli-aligned Kurdish areas and intelligence suggesting Turkey is helping facilitate arms transfers that could eventually find their way to Hamas or Hezbollah. But here too, Trump remained noncommittal.
Unlike his earlier years in office, Trump now views Erdoğan as a necessary ally in the complex chessboard of Syria—someone who can counterbalance both Assad and Iranian militias without demanding too much in return. Netanyahu, by contrast, sees a rival exploiting chaos to stir anti-Israel sentiment and bolster Islamist movements across the region.
“We’re watching Turkish moves very closely,” Netanyahu told reporters after the meeting. “This isn’t 2010. The dynamics have changed.”
But despite those words, there was no evidence that the U.S. would be recalibrating its Syria policy to factor in Israeli discomfort. For Netanyahu, this growing shadow from Ankara is a strategic dilemma, one he’s now being forced to confront largely alone.
The War in Gaza – The Elephant in the Room
Overshadowing every other issue was the grinding 18-month-long war in Gaza, which has tested Israel’s military might, strained its global image, and drawn widespread condemnation. Yet in the Oval Office, it was the topic least directly addressed.
Netanyahu arrived in Washington hoping for a firm public endorsement of his Gaza campaign from Trump but that moment never came.
For Netanyahu, this was another sign that the old Trump magic may be fading. The war in Gaza, which was supposed to be swift and decisive, has instead dragged into one of Israel’s most complex and controversial military engagements. Civilian casualties have mounted. International calls for restraint have grown louder. And even Israel’s closest allies are beginning to question the endgame.
Netanyahu, known for his ability to leverage global forums to rally support, found little in Washington this time to take home as a political win. No promises of expedited weapons shipments. No resolution condemning Hamas. No dramatic joint declaration.
Behind the pleasantries and rehearsed soundbites, there was an unspoken truth – the Gaza war, once seen by Netanyahu as a means to consolidate domestic support, has become an international liability. And even Trump, his most reliable political partner in the past, is keeping some distance.
A Changed Washington and a Humbled Visit
This was probably the Washington Netanyahu once knew, the one that gave him standing ovations in Congress, the one that gave without asking much in return, the one where he was treated as a statesman with veto power over U.S. Middle East policy. The Washington he walked into this time was colder, more transactional, and far less enchanted.
For Netanyahu, the symbolism cut deep as no wins to bring home to a weary Israeli public increasingly divided over the government’s domestic and military policies.
Trump, in his second term and facing his own storm of controversies, appeared disinterested in staging nostalgia. It appears he does not need Netanyahu in the same way anymore, not as a foreign policy trophy, not as a campaign prop. In fact, the Israeli leader’s visit looked more like a footnote than a headline. A flicker of the past, not a partner for the future.
Perhaps most telling was the shift in tone. Gone were the grandiose promises of peace deals and embassy moves. In their place, hedged language, awkward smiles, and vague gestures. The power dynamic has definitely shifted – not just between the two men, but between their countries. The leash shorter, the indulgence gone.
The Last Bit, A Visit Full of Optics, Empty on Outcomes
In the end, Netanyahu’s hastily arranged White House visit was heavy on symbolism but light on substance. No breakthrough on tariffs. No new commitment on Iran. No strategic shift in U.S. policy toward Gaza or Syria. The handshake photo op was captured, the flags were in place, the praise was exchanged but the deliverables were missing.
The meeting, in many ways, a portrait of changing times. The days of political freebies from Washington are over, even for old allies like Israel. And Netanyahu, once a master of leveraging U.S. support for domestic gains, left with little more than polite nods and a few vague assurances.
Back home, he faces mounting criticism, economic strain, and a prolonged military engagement in Gaza that has exhausted both global patience and Israeli morale. The visit, which might once have been seen as a diplomatic triumph, was instead viewed by many as a missed opportunity or worse, a misread of Washington’s evolving mood.
For Netanyahu, this trip was not the victory lap he may have envisioned, but rather a reminder that geopolitical winds shift quickly. And when they do, even the strongest alliances can feel the chill.
Russia’s Arctic Imperative
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