It’s possible that he’ll be in prison.

Or perhaps, because of poll numbers that fall as trial dates approach, the Republican Party won’t end up nominating the current frontrunner as their presidential candidate in 2024.

And, of course, in the general election, despite its lukewarm attitude toward Joe Biden, the American electorate could still unite in the face of the political equivalent of an asteroid strike to reject the greatest-ever threat to American democracy.

But sometimes you just have to face your nightmares. What would Donald J. Trump do to the world if he once again enters the White House in 2025?

Enter the Joker

The world of geopolitics is relatively predictable—until it isn’t. The greatest source of unpredictability are the wild cards: Vladimir Putin’s decision last year to invade Ukraine, the subsequent victory of political outsider Gustavo Petro in the Colombian presidential elections, the surprise announcement this year of a diplomatic rapprochement between Saudi Arabia and Iran.

Donald Trump is the ultimate wild card, a joker-in-chief whose every pronouncement threatens to disrupt the status quo. When he became president in 2016, he certainly made some predictable decisions—canceling U.S. participation in the Paris climate agreement, withdrawing from the Trans Pacific Partnership free trade agreement—which fulfilled campaign promises.

But who could have guessed that he would sit down with North Korean leader Kim Jong Un not just once (Singapore), not just twice (Vietnam), but three times (at the DMZ)? I don’t remember any pundits predicting that Trump would commit an impeachable offense by delaying aid to Ukraine in exchange for dirt on Joe Biden and his son, Hunter. And what about Trump’s attempt to buy Greenland, his disparagement of “shithole countries,” his sudden decision to withdraw U.S. troops from Syria and greenlight Turkey’s invasion of that country?

Unpredictability is not always a bad thing. Meeting with the North Korean leader could have been a shrewd move if Trump actually understood a thing or two about Kim Jong Un and his country. But there was no method in Trump’s erratic behavior. He was not a crafty “mad man” trying to emulate Richard Nixon. He was just going with his (fast-food-filled) gut.

So, the first thing to know about the prospect of another Trump term, when it comes to foreign policy, is that all bets are off (along with all gloves).

Battling the State

Trump and his MAGA followers have an almost pathological disgust for government. His future plan to fire huge numbers of federal employees, based on an executive order he pushed through in the waning days of 2020, targets about 50,000 civil servants who have the most impact on federal policy: the so-called deep state.

But Trump and company don’t simply want to “deconstruct the administrative state,” as Trump whisperer Steve Bannon famously said. They want to remake the state to concentrate political and economic power in the hands of themselves and their wealthy friends. That requires removing the checks on executive power that are embedded in the federal bureaucracy.

Basically, Trump wants to transform a system that already tilts dangerously in the direction of oligopoly into a full-blown patronage state along the lines of what Viktor Orbán has done in Hungary and Vladimir Putin has accomplished in Russia.

The same can be said for his attitude toward the institutions of the international community. In 2025, Trump will again try to wreck as many global deals and bodies as possible, from the Paris agreement on climate change to the UN Human Rights Council. He’ll do his best to undermine NATO, even withdrawing from the security pact, according to his former national security advisor John Bolton, himself no friend to internationalism.

Trump despises everything global beyond his own business empire. He’s not against free trade per se, and he is certainly not thinking of improving the lives of U.S. workers. But he fancies himself a great dealmaker who can force the Europeans, the Chinese, and everyone else to negotiate more favorable terms for U.S. businesses. For Trump, this must be in a bilateral context, mano a mano. That’s why he opposes multilateral trade deals, even if they would ultimately advantage the United States.

If he wins, Trump has promised to create a tariff wall around the United States at a rate of 10 percent for all countries. Right now, some countries face practically no tariffs while a country like China has to deal with an average rate of 19 percent. Trump’s proposal, which has the odor of something composed on the back of a cocktail napkin, is designed not so much to protect American interests as to reward nations (with tariff reductions) that kowtow to Trump and stimulate a global trade war among everyone else.

This stance might eventually cost Trump the election, because Wall Street doesn’t trust him to make good deals. Indeed, The Wall Street Journal upbraided Trump for his scattershot protectionism. Sure, such populist moves might win him some votes in battleground states—though progressives and conservatives alike argue that those policies actually lost jobs in the Rust Belt—but it will probably send a lot of high-level donors to the Democrats. Alas, in the United States, money doesn’t just talk, it votes.

War and (Not So Much) Peace

Trump is positioning himself as the peace candidate. Like everything else about the man, it’s a sham.

Trump has claimed that he could end the war in Ukraine in 24 hours by using threats to goad both sides to the negotiating table. The plan, specifically, would be to threaten Ukraine with a cut-off in aid and simultaneously threaten Russia with a sharp increase in aid to its adversary.  Trump makes no mention of the other countries that supply Ukraine with substantial military assistance or the current difficulty of pushing additional Ukraine aid packages through Congress.

The plan consists of a double-bluff—and is, itself, a bluff. Having shown his hand, however, Trump would find it rather difficulty to execute his plan.

Elsewhere, Trump is likely to escalate not de-escalate. Having wrecked the Iran nuclear deal, Trump will likely pick up where he left off. During his time in office, Trump risked war with Iran on two occasions, ordering the assassination of a top military leader and contemplating missile strikes in his last days in office. Because the ayatollahs will never contemplate a Trump Tower Tehran, thus rebuffing the most transactional and self-serving president in U.S. history, the Donald will no doubt turn up the volume of his attacks on the country.

There are other possibilities for war under Trump. After all, he’s irascible, quick to anger, and trigger-happy. During his presidency, he threatened North Korea, Venezuela, and Syria.

But honestly, the most terrifying war that Trump is planning is his attacks on America: on the Constitution, on democracy, on the state. The only reason that Trump in a second term might not end up waging war on another country is because he’ll be too focused on destroying his own.

The world awaits the judgment of the American voters. Democracy is all about learning from collective mistakes. If America makes the same mistake again, it will have committed democratic harakiri.

The post Trump World 2025 appeared first on Foreign Policy In Focus.

In a fit of madness or just plain desperation, you’ve enrolled in a get-rich-quick scheme. All you have to do is sell some products, sign up some friends, make some phone calls. Follow that simple formula and you’ll soon be pulling in tens of thousands of dollars a month — or so you’ve been promised anyway. And if you sell enough products, you’ll be invited into the Golden Circle, which offers yet more perks like free concert tickets and trips to Las Vegas.

Still, I’m sure you won’t be surprised to learn that there’s a catch. If you don’t sell a pile of products or sign up a ton of friends to do the same, the odds are that you’ll end up losing money, no matter how hard you work, especially if you take out loans to build your “business.”

The founders of multi-level marketing schemes always make a lot of money. Some of their friends become wealthy, too. But 99% of those who sell the products, whether cosmetics or dietary supplements, lose money. That’s worse than a conventional pyramid scam, which fleeces only nine out of every 10 people involved.

Now, imagine that you’re a poor country. The international financial institutions (IFIs) promise that, if you follow a simple formula, you, too, will become a wealthy nation. In a fit of desperation or madness, you take out loans from those same IFIs and commercial banks, invest in building up your export industries, and cut back on government regulations. Then you wait for the good news.

But of course, there’s a catch. You have to sell a staggering number of exports to actually make money. Meanwhile, you have to repay those loans, while covering the compounding interest payments that accompany them. Soon you’re caught in a debt trap and falling ever further behind the wealthy countries of the north. The main winners? The corporations that flooded into your country in search of tax incentives, cheap labor, and lax manufacturing and mining regulations.

The nation-states that founded the modern global economy have indeed made tons of money, as have some of their friends and allies. Despite the devastation of World War II, for instance, Japan was able to scramble up the ladder again to join the treehouse club of powerful nations. Meanwhile, in a single generation, South Korea’s economy was transformed from the per capita gross domestic product of a Ghana or Haiti in 1960 into one of the world’s most powerful by the 1980s. In Latin America, Chile, Colombia, and Costa Rica all managed to join South Korea in the Organization of Economic Cooperation and Development, a collection of the planet’s 38 most prosperous countries.

But in 2023, there’s a catch to climbing that ladder into the industrialized world. As the board of directors of the club of the wealthy points out, the classic ladder of development, industrialization itself, has become rickety and ever more dangerous. After all, it requires energy traditionally supplied by fossil fuels, now known to radically heat up the planet and endanger the very survival of humanity. Today, countries aspiring to join the charmed circle of the wealthy can no longer hope to climb that ladder in any usual fashion, thanks in part to the carbon-neutrality pledges virtually all nations made as part of the Paris climate accord.

The Global South is divided on how to respond. For instance, as the world’s second-largest consumer of coal and third-largest consumer of oil, India wants to grow in the old-fashioned fossil-fuelized way, becoming the last one up that ladder, even as its rungs are disintegrating. Other countries, like renewables-reliant Uruguay and carbon-neutral Suriname, are exploring more sustainable paths to progress.

Either way, with global temperatures setting ever more extreme records and inequality worsening, poor countries face their last shot at following South Korea and Qatar into the ranks of the “developed” world. They may fail, along with the rest of us on this overheating planet, or perhaps one or two might get lucky and make it into the club. However, with some clever negotiating, judicious leveraging of resources, and a lot of solidarity, it’s just possible that they could team up to rewrite the very rules of the global economy and achieve a measure of prosperity for all.

Growing Inequality

The boosters of globalization point to a steady decline of inequality among nations between 1980 and 2020, largely because of the explosive economic growth of China and other Asian countries like Vietnam. However, those boosters often fail to mention two important facts: in 2020, such inequality was still roughly the same as it had been in 1900 when colonialism was in full swing. Meanwhile, in recent decades, inequality within countries has skyrocketed. Since 1995, in fact, the top 1% of the wealthiest among us have accumulated 20 times that of the bottom 50%.

The Covid pandemic only made matters worse. According to one estimate, it threw 90 million people into extreme poverty, while increasing the wealth of billionaires more rapidly in just two pandemic years than in the previous 23 years combined.

And mind you, the super-rich no longer reside only in the prosperous “north.” China and India now have the most billionaires after the United States. The consolidation of obscene wealth alongside abject poverty is one reason inequality has risen more rapidly within countries than between them.

But something else strange is happening. In addition to making the ladder of fossil-fuelized industrialization more difficult to climb, climate change has been pushing the architects of the global economy to rethink their animus toward state intervention. Accelerating as it is due to a fundamentalist faith in markets, climate change may also be delivering the coup de grace to neoliberalism.

Climate Debts

During the Industrial Revolution and the ensuing century and a half of global economic expansion, the countries of the North grew wealthy by exploiting oil, natural gas, and coal. In doing so, they pumped trillions of tons of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere. Poorer countries generally supplied the raw materials for that “miracle of progress” — at first, involuntarily thanks to colonialism and then more-or-less voluntarily through trade.

Buy the Book

From 1751 to 2021, the United States was responsible for fully one-quarter of all carbon emissions, with the members of the European Union in second place at 22% (followed by China, India, Japan, Russia, and other major powers). On the other hand, Africa, Latin America, Southeast Asia, and Oceania have collectively contributed only a tiny fraction of those emissions over time. Of the existing carbon budget — the amount the world can emit without crossing the 1.5C degree red line set by the Paris climate accord — only 250 gigatons remain. That’s approximately what China alone had emitted by 2021 while muscling its way into the clubhouse of the rich and powerful.

The wealthy club members have all now embarked on transitions to “clean energy.” The European Union’s “Fit for 55” aims to reduce its carbon emissions by 55% by 2030. The Biden administration pushed through the deceptively named Inflation Reduction Act to incentivize states, corporations, and individuals to move away from fossil fuels, so that the United States could become carbon-neutral by 2050. In both cases, the state is playing a much more active role in guiding the transition than would have been tolerated in the heyday of Thatcherism or Reaganism (or, today, Trumpism).

The Global South, which bears little responsibility for the climate mess the planet faces, doesn’t have the necessary billions of dollars to devote to “clean energy transitions.” So, because climate change knows no borders, in 2010, the richer countries promised to contribute $100 billion a year to fund “mitigation” (emissions reductions) in the Global South. However, that promise has proved to be — the perfect image for our overheated moment – mostly hot air. Ten years later, according to Oxfam, the wealthy nations have managed to mobilize at most $25 billion in real assistance annually.

Meanwhile, climate change is wreaking havoc in the here and now. Though Canadian wildfires and European heat waves have dominated the climate headlines in the north this summer, the effects of climate change are actually being disproportionately felt south of the equator. According to one estimate, by 2030, developing countries will be hit with climate bills of between $290 billion and $580 billion annually.

Last year, rich countries made another pledge of money, this time to a “loss and damage fund” to compensate poor nations for the ongoing impacts of climate change. Those funds, however, have yet to come into existence, while the desperately poor countries of the Global South await the next round of climate negotiations — in oil-rich Dubai of all places — to find out how much is involved, from whom, and for whom.

Promises, promises.

So far, the poorer countries have been shaking their tin cups outside the meetings of the powerful, hoping that some loose change will eventually trickle down to them. But there may be another way.

Global Just Transition

The fossil-fuel-free future the Global North is touting depends on critical materials like lithium, cobalt, and rare earth elements to build electric batteries, solar panels, and windmills. Most of these essential assets are located in the south. In one of those ironies of history, the economic development of the north once again depends significantly on what lies beneath the ground (and the oceans) south of the equator. In this brave new world of “green colonialism,” the north is maneuvering to grab such needed resources at the lowest price possible in part by perpetuating for the poor the very neoliberal model of “less government” that it’s begun to abandon itself.

There’s also a Cold War twist to this tale. According to policymakers in Brussels and Washington, the “clean energy” transition shouldn’t be held hostage by China, which mines and processes many of its critical minerals (producing 60% and processing 85% of all rare earth elements). China might one day decide to shut down the supply chain of such critical minerals, a foreshadowing of which took place this summer when Beijing imposed export controls on gallium and germanium in response to a Dutch ban on certain high-tech exports to China. The Chinese leadership will undoubtedly continue out-negotiating the West to gain privileged access to what it needs for its own high-tech industries.

A new “mineral rush” is underway. The European Union (EU) is now debating a “Critical Raw Materials Act” meant to reduce dependency on Chinese inputs through more mining closer to home, from Sweden to Serbia, not to speak of more “urban mining” (that is, recycling materials from used batteries and old solar panels).

Europe is also locking in deals with mineral-rich countries in the Global South. The EU typically negotiated a trade agreement with Chile that ensures EU access to that country’s lithium supplies, while making it more difficult for Chile’s government to supply its own manufacturers with cheaper inputs.

Washington, meanwhile, put a provision in the Inflation Reduction Act to ensure that electric car manufacturers source at least 40% of their batteries’ mineral content from the United States or U.S. allies (read: not China). That percentage is to rise to 80% by 2027. Washington is not only scrambling to secure its own critical minerals, but forcing allies to cut ties with China and compete for sources elsewhere in the world.

Such an effort to “secure supply chains,” while a blow to China, represents a possible boon for the Global South. A country like Chile, which commands so much of the lithium market, can theoretically negotiate more than just a good price for its product. It could leverage its mineral riches to acquire valuable technology, intellectual property, or greater control over the overall supply chain. Collectively, those mineral suppliers could also take a page from the playbook of the oil producers. Indonesia, for instance, has already floated the idea of a nickel cartel.

Such strategies, however, face a threefold challenge. The United States and Europe are already boosting mining at home to become more self-sufficient. Then there’s the prospect that such minerals will be rendered obsolete by technological advances, much as the United States created a synthetic substitute for rubber when supplies became tight during World War II. Scientists are now racing to invent electric batteries that don’t depend on lithium or cobalt.

Even more worrisome are the environmental consequences of such mining. The countries of the Global South could indeed use “ladders” made of lithium, cobalt, or nickel to climb into the club of the wealthy. But they would be hard-pressed to do so without creating “zones of sacrifice,” destroying communities and ecosystems around mineral extraction sites.

So, let’s take a fresh look at the cartel idea. Venezuela originally proposed the Organization of the Petroleum Exporting Countries (or OPEC) as a method of reducing oil consumption. The problem Venezuela grasped 70 years ago was not just the low price of what the then-Venezuelan oil minister called “the devil’s excrement” but the unsustainable nature of a global dependency on fossil fuels. OPEC was to help conserve resources. Could a mineral cartel serve that very purpose?

Breaking the Cycle

The central problem facing the planet is not just carbon emissions and climate change. They’re both, in their own fashion, symptoms of an even larger crisis of the overconsumption of resources, including energy. Consider one minor example: the amount of stuff Americans buy at Christmas and then return without using amounts to $300 billion a year. That’s more than the economic output of Finland, Peru, or Kenya.

That gives “shop ’til you drop” a new meaning.

Rather than building a different ladder to climb into prosperity, the countries of the Global South could take the unprecedented challenge of human-induced climate change as an opportunity to rewrite the rules of the global economy. Instead of dreaming of consuming at the same rate as the Global North — inconceivable given the planet’s shrinking resource base — the Global South could use its mineral leverage to effectively lessen inequality on a planet-wide basis. In practice, that would mean forcing the North’s middle class to begin trimming its consumption by reducing the supply of fossil-fuel energy to the addicted.

In a referendum in Ecuador last month, its citizens voted to keep the oil in the Yasuni National Park beneath the ground. A number of countries in Oceania — Fiji, the Solomon Islands, Tonga — have similarly endorsed a “non-proliferation treaty” for fossil fuels that would phase out oil, gas, and coal production. Great Britain and the EU have considered rationing plans for fossil fuel.

Nor can the rich be allowed to sit on their billions while the planet burns. The wealth taxes that some countries have implemented — and others like the United States are now considering — would go a long way toward shifting funds from the super-rich to the greatest victims of climate change and biodiversity loss. Consider this slogan for our changing times: more butterflies, fewer billionaires.

The global economy is essentially on a downward debt spiral for the poor and an upward consumption spiral for the rich. In short, it’s a rigged game. The solution is not to usher a few lucky countries into the world of unsustainable excess, which would just be a new version of green colonialism.

Rather, it’s time to flip the game upside down and end that very green colonialism by requiring a southernization of the north — forcing the latter to reduce its consumption of energy and other resources to meet that of the Global South. The inequality of industrialization got us into this crisis. Addressing that inequality is the only way out.

The post More Butterflies, Fewer Billionaires: Unrigging the Global Economy appeared first on Foreign Policy In Focus.

In defiance of international norms and rules, U.S. officials are laying claim to the large oceanic area in the central Pacific Ocean that is home to the compact states.

Now that they are renewing the economic provisions of the compacts of free association with Palau, the Marshall Islands, and the Federated States of Micronesia, U.S. officials are insisting that the compacts provide the United States with exclusive control over an area of the central Pacific Ocean that is comparable in size to the United States.

“We control essentially the northern half of the Pacific between Hawaii and Philippines,” U.S. special envoy Joseph Yun told Congress in July.

For decades, the United States has overseen compacts of free association with Palau, the Marshall Islands, and the Federated States of Micronesia. Under the compacts, the United States provides the three countries with economic assistance while it maintains powerful military controls over the islands and their waters.

One of these military controls, “the defense veto,” enables the United States to prevent the compact states from forging international agreements that could impede U.S. military priorities. Consequently, the compact states have never joined the Treaty of Rarotonga, which established a nuclear free zone in the region.

Another U.S. military control is “the right of strategic denial” by which U.S. officials assert that they can prevent other countries from accessing the compact states’ lands, waters, and airspace.

“The compacts do give us full defense authority and responsibility in those countries and provide our ability to strategically deny third country military access,” U.S. diplomat Jane Bocklage told Congress earlier this year.

Although the compacts include language that permits the United States to foreclose access to the islands by third-party military forces, U.S. officials have broadly interpreted this language to mean that they can exclude third parties from the compact states’ exclusive economic zones (EEZs), which extend up to 200 miles around each island’s coastlines.

At a congressional hearing in July, Senator John Barrasso (R-WY) asserted that strategic denial authority “allows us to deny access to any potential adversary in an area of the Pacific comparable in size to the continental United States.” An associate presented a map that portrayed the EEZs as one contiguous area under U.S. control. “It’s nearly as large as the continental United States,” Barrasso remarked.

Defense Department official Siddharth Mohandas agreed with the senator’s interpretation. He claimed that the United States maintains unfettered and exclusive access to the area. “We have the ability to deny foreign militaries access and the ability to operate in the exclusive economic zones of the Freely Associated States,” Mohandas said, referring to the compact states.

This interpretation of strategic denial is inconsistent with international law. Under the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea, all countries have the rights of navigation and overflight in the exclusive economic zones of other countries, as stipulated by Articles 58 and 87.

Most countries, including the compact states, are parties to the convention. The United States has never ratified the convention, but high-level U.S. officials have expressed their support for it.

“Although not yet a party to the treaty, the U.S. nevertheless observes the UN LOSC as reflective of customary international law and practice,” the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration explains, referring to the Convention on the Law of the Sea.

When U.S. officials say that they have a right to exclude third-party actors from the compact states’ exclusive economic zones, they are making claims that are inconsistent with the UN Convention. There is no legal basis for the United States to prevent ships from other countries from peacefully traversing the compact states’ exclusive economic zones.

More than two decades ago, the U.S. General Accounting Office (GAO) acknowledged in a major report that strategic denial does not extend to the compact states’ exclusive economic zones. According to the GAO report, strategic denial is limited to the 12-mile territorial waters that surround each island. Even within these smaller zones, the GAO noted, military vessels from other countries maintain the right of “innocent passage.”

“Statements by policymakers that indicate the United States has a right to deny military access to the islands and a vast area of the Pacific Ocean—a widely cited U.S. interest—overstate the breadth of this right, which only covers the individual islands and their 12-mile territorial waters,” the GAO explained.

A map included in the GAO report shows that strategic denial applies to small isolated areas rather than the much larger expanse of the Pacific Ocean that is often claimed by U.S. officials. A key implication of the GAO’s map is that the United States cannot legally exclude third parties from the vast oceanic area that surrounds the compact states.

In fact, U.S. officials have long taken the position that exclusive economic zones must remain open to navigation. Across the world, they have promoted “freedom of navigation,” which they have presented as the freedom of ships to sail the world’s oceans and waterways wherever the law allows, including in the exclusive economic zones of other countries.

When U.S. officials have sent warships through some of the world’s most contested waterways, such as the South and East China Seas, they have said that they are defending “freedom of navigation.” The presence of U.S. military forces has often created tensions, possibly even violating Article 88 of the U.N. Convention, which requires ships to have peaceful purposes, but U.S. officials have always insisted that these operations are consistent with international law.

“We’re committed to ensuring that every country can fly, sail, and operate wherever international law allows,” Secretary of Defense Lloyd Austin said in a speech in June. “Every country, large and small, must remain free to conduct lawful maritime activities.”

The U.S. mass media has often sided with the U.S. government’s position on freedom of navigation, especially as it concerns U.S. military operations in the exclusive economic zones of rival countries. In a July 2023 report about North Korean criticisms of U.S. military activities in North Korea’s exclusive economic zone, The New York Times indicated that North Korea has no legal basis for excluding U.S. military forces from the area.

“A country can claim the right to exploit marine resources in its so-called exclusive economic zone, which extends 200 nautical miles from its 12 nautical-mile territorial waters,” The New York Times reported. “But it does not hold sovereignty over the zone’s surface and the airspace above it.”

When countries such as China and North Korea claim that they have the right to regulate foreign military activities in their exclusive economic zones, U.S. officials always disagree, insisting that these areas must remain open to freedom of navigation, particularly for U.S. warships.

Regarding coastal states such as China and North Korea, the U.S. position is that they “do not have the right to regulate foreign military activities in their EEZs,” according to a report by the Congressional Research Service. “The United States will continue to operate its military ships in the EEZs of other countries.”

By claiming to have a right of strategic denial over the compact states’ exclusive economic zones, however, U.S. officials are taking a position that is inconsistent with international law and their own practices in many parts of the world, including the Indo-Pacific. If they were to use force to prevent a third party from accessing the vast expanse of waters around the compact states, then they would be violating the law and the very principles that they apply to other countries.

In short, U.S. officials have no legal basis for their claims to control the vast oceanic area that is home to the compact states, just as the GAO confirmed in its landmark report more than two decades ago.

The post U.S. Claims to Central Pacific Flout International Law appeared first on Foreign Policy In Focus.

Karim Assaad, a 30-year-old Egyptian journalist, stayed up late on August 18 to finish some work so he could enjoy the rest of the weekend with his wife and 2-year-old son. Before dawn’s light filled the skies in Cairo, Assaad heard aggressive knocks on their door. “We thought the building was collapsing,” his wife later said in a media interview. 

As they ran to the door, they heard men’s voices ordering them to open the door or it would be broken down, a source close to the family told me. Ten heavily armed men, some of them in police uniforms, stormed in, insulting Assaad and his wife for not opening swiftly. They immediately announced the reasons for their visit. “You don’t know the consequences of what you’ve published,” a man told Assaad. 

The men then locked Assaad’s wife in one room, slapped her in the face, and subjected her to a barrage of blows and insults — all in front of her toddler, who was bawling. They told her she would not see her child again if she did not answer their questions about her husband’s work. They ordered her to hand them all their cash and jewelry, laptops, and phones. 

Meanwhile, others were questioning Assaad in another room for half an hour. Then they took him away. 

In Sisi’s Egypt, Telling the Truth Is a Crime

These men were not an armed gang taking revenge on a journalist who reported on their illegal activity. They are government security agents who, as a source described, took Assaad to the General Intelligence Agency. Such thuggish behavior has been the norm under the rule of President Abdel Fattah al-Sisi. 

Assaad is a journalist at Matsadaash (“Don’t Believe”), one of the first Arabic fact checking websites and open-source investigation platforms. Since 2018, it has gained the trust and following of millions of people by contributing rich content deconstructing online misinformation, as well as propaganda and lies by the government and opposition alike.  

Al-Sisi’s agencies have controlled, purchased, or coerced all mainstream media in the country, and opposition media in exile is largely partisan. So web platforms like Matsadaash play a valuable role as one of the last remaining voices for independent information in the so-called “hashtag war,” a milieu of severe repression and rampant disinformation 

Several days before the assault on Assaad, Matsadaash had unearthed important information about a mysterious private jet that authorities in Zambia had seized in early August after it arrived from Cairo loaded with millions of dollars, gold that might be fake, and guns and ammunition. The Zambian authorities arrested six Egyptians on board the jet before releasing them weeks later. 

The Egyptian government tried to obscure the whole incident. But the work of brave, young professionals like Assaad exposed it by using open-source information to piece together the puzzle. Their reporting revealed that Egyptian military and police officers were among the six arrested and that the private jet was most likely used by government ministers in previous travels abroad.  

In Sisi’s Egypt, truth-telling has long been criminalized. The raiding security agents forced Assaad to delete two Facebook posts about that private jet. 

Fortunately, the authorities released Assaad two days after his arrest after a strong solidarity campaign and interventions by people who negotiated his release. The source told me that authorities had not anticipated the amount of coverage and solidarity Assaad’s arrest would ignite. He said that Assaad received humane treatment during his short detention, but the message had been delivered: Those who seek to exercise their basic rights in Egypt should expect to be punished.

The Massacre That Changed Egypt Forever

It is more than a coincidence that Assaad’s ordeal took place the same week as the 10th anniversary of the Rab’a mass killings, the massacre that changed Egypt forever. 

On August 14, 2013, Egyptian police and military forces violently dispersed a largely peaceful sit-in protesting the military’s removal of Egypt’s first elected leader, Mohamed Morsy. They killed well over 800 people in a broad daylight attack that was thoroughly planned at the most senior levels.

Ten years later, those responsible have been promoted and rewarded — and the survivors have been imprisoned or exiled. 

Assaad’s case is a stark reminder of what has gone wrong in Egypt.  The government makes almost no effort to restrain the security forces or force them to act within the law. It’s clear to them that abuse is greenlighted in the name of “security.” 

This doctrine has been echoed in numerous official statements, including by al-Sisi. Addressing a comment in June about unjustly held prisoners, al-Sisi angrily said that those arrests were about “rescuing the homeland.” Military commanders, and senior security and government officials claiming moral superiority have used the idea of “protecting” the “homeland” to justify mass murder in broad daylight.

Distorting boundaries is often a one-way ticket to a place where the rule of law, dignity, human rights, and basic morals quickly fall away. During the years after the Rab’a killings, security forces have been engaged in widespread, systematic abductions, enforced disappearances, torture, and extrajudicial killings — all in the name of ensuring the nation’s “security.” 

Al-Sisi’s government first targeted Morsy’s Islamist supporters. But over the course of 10 years, security forces’ abuses have spared no perceived or actual critic in Egypt — even among those who had earlier supported the military coup. That continuum explains where Egypt is today. 

In recent months, al-Sisi’s government has been engaged in a feverish public relations campaign to improve its sullied image, arguing that a national dialogue convened by al-Sisi and the release of some political prisoners represent a new beginning. In reality, the dialogue has largely devolved into a talkfest with minimal impact on repressive policies as thousands remain imprisoned and arbitrary arrests and abuses continue unabated. 

Assaad’s abduction is a reminder that there can be no light at the end of the tunnel without addressing rampant security force abuses and lawlessness, including what happened in Rab’a 10 years ago.

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If a mining operation is polluting the land—or a corporation is threatening to start digging in the near future—concerned citizens can try to protect their community with a number of strategies at the local and national level. To stop the pollution or address human rights abuses connected to the mining, activists can go through the courts. They can work with local politicians to stop the mining with legislation. They can go the consumer route and launch a boycott.

But what happens when these strategies fail to stop the mining project?

One additional option is to take the fight to the international level. If the company is headquartered in a member of the Organization of Economic Cooperation and Development—or operating in an OECD-adhering state—activists can lodge a complaint based on a violation of the OECD guidelines on corporate conduct.

The OECD is a club of the world’s 38 most prosperous states. It was founded in 1961, but its origins can be traced to the institutions that administered the Marshall Plan of post-war recovery assistance that the United States extended to Europe. Today, it is headquartered in France, and it has an operating budget of over $400 million.

In addition to the United States, European countries, Commonwealth states like Canada, Australia and New Zealand, and East Asian tigers like Japan and South Korea, the OECD has extended membership to Latin America (Chile, Colombia, Costa Rica) and the Middle East (Turkey, Israel). There are no OECD members in Africa, South Asia, or Southeast Asia. However, 13 additional countries—Argentina, Brazil, Bulgaria, Croatia, Egypt, Jordan, Kazakhstan, Morocco, Peru, Romania, Tunisia, Ukraine, and Uruguay—adhere to the OECD guidelines for multinational enterprises.

In June 2023, the OECD issued an updated version of its “OECD Guidelines for Multinational Enterprises on Responsible Business Conduct.” The guidelines apply to all corporations operating throughout the OECD space but also all companies headquartered in an OECD country.

“The OECD guidelines are recommendations from the 51 OECD-adhering governments to companies on responsible business conduct,” explains Katharine Booth, a researcher and policy advisor at OECD Watch. “The recommendations to companies are not binding. Companies are not required to comply with the standards in the OECD guidelines, but increasingly they should. Responsible business conduct is not new. It’s now embedded.”

To lodge a complaint against a multinational enterprise like a mining company, an organization must go through the National Contact Point (NCP) that each OECD member is required to establish.

“Canada’s NCP was established in 2000 and since then there have been 19 cases brought against Canadian mining companies,” relates Catherine Coumans, the research coordinator and Asia-Pacific program coordinator at MiningWatch Canada. “Between 2001 and 2012, MiningWatch Canada brought and supported seven cases against Canadian mining companies. But after the case we brought in 2012, we made a definitive decision not to support any more mining cases through the Canadian NCP because we’d become convinced that bringing the case to the Canadian NCP was very likely to deepen the harm experienced by the complainants.”

The track record of the Canadian NCP was so bad, in fact, that a complaint was officially filed against it for a recent case it handled, one of only two such complaints brought against NCPs in the OECD system.

Meanwhile, in Australia, activists continue to try to hold Lynas Rare Earth Ltd. responsible for over 1.5 million tons of radioactive waste it has produced in Malaysia. The largest rare earth producer outside of China, Lynas mines rare earth ore in Western Australia, which it transports to a secondary processing plant in Malaysia. Activists and Australian environmental groups are thinking about filing a complaint against Lynas through the Australian NCP for leaving radioactive waste in an unsafe and below-standard waste dump in a coastal peat swamp near its Kuantan plant, reneging on its original license condition to remove this waste from Malaysia.

“It may be wishful thinking to get Lynas to come to the table, let alone agree to our demands, but we have to try out the OECD complaint process,” says Lee Tan, a statistician and a social researcher who leads the Aid/Watch campaign Stop Lynas. “It’s important to raise such issues in the international arena, because Lynas depends on reputation to sell its rare earth since It claims to be a greener and more sustainable producer than China.”

These three researchers and activists came together in June to discuss the benefits and drawbacks of working through the OECD grievance mechanism. Do the revised guidelines make it easier for activists to challenge corporations that violate the OECD standards? Are some NCPs better than others? And what other international avenues can activists pursue?

Updated Guidelines

The OECD guidelines on corporate conduct were first published in 1976. They were updated in 2000 to cover the National Contact Points. They were updated again in 2011 to include standards on human rights and due diligence to harmonize with the UN Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights.

Katharine Booth works at OECD Watch, a global network of over 130 civil society organizations in 50 countries based in Amsterdam. It focuses on corporate accountability and on helping civil society navigate the OECD system of guidelines and NCPs.

With its latest update, the guidelines still “cover human rights, employment, environment, disclosure, competition,” she explains, “but the issues covered in those chapters have been even further expanded. Most importantly, the guidelines recognize value chain responsibility. That means it covers both upstream and downstream due diligence and impact: not only what happens in the factory but also in relation to sales.”

“The standards really have been strengthened in terms of climate and environment,” Booth notes. “Also, other things like animal welfare has been included. The OECD guidelines were already a leading standard on responsible business conduct. But they’ve been updated to provide more responsibilities for companies to meet. So, now, because the Paris Agreement is cited, companies should aim for net zero admissions. They should have transition plans and implement mitigation targets.”

The guidelines set out some of the impacts that companies can have in terms of the environment, and “that includes biodiversity loss, land degradation, ecosystem harm, deforestation, and water, air and land pollution,” she continues. The guidelines also reference “just transition” both in terms of energy transition and pathways for workers in a digital transition.

“The standards have also been strengthened in terms of meaningful stakeholder engagement,” she adds. “Companies should engage in two-way, good faith engagement with stakeholders’ views. This engagement should be accessible, appropriate, and safe, and companies should also remove barriers to engagement. The guidelines also pay special attention to marginalized or vulnerable groups at heightened risk of harm. Companies should also promote a safe space to raise concerns. OECD Watch is happy with the general references to harms against people, generally human rights defenders, in terms of preventing and refraining from reprisals against these people.”

Where the update falls down is around the NCPs. “We pushed for requirements that the NCPs should make determinations, rather than just have the option to make a determination, but that really hasn’t been put into the guidelines,” Booth concludes.

What the NCPs Do

There are over 50 NCPs, one in each of the countries that abide by the OECD guidelines, and they have two functions. “The first is to promote the guidelines,” Booth explains. “And the second is to handle complaints against companies that have allegedly not met the standards in the guidelines. Companies are not required to participate in NCP processes. It’s a voluntary process. Even if a complaint is accepted by an NCP, it is still up to the company whether to participate in mediation.” Anyone who has a connection to the purported breach of standards can file a complaint.

Next, the NCP makes a preliminary assessment of whether the complaint should proceed. “Often some NCPs set too high a bar, in OECD Watch’s opinion,” she adds. “But the updated guidelines make clear that the bar should be low for a complaint to proceed. It just should be essentially substantiated and be material to the OECD guidelines.”

If the complaint makes it to the next stage, an NCP will offer its good offices, which in most cases means mediation. The NCP does this internally or hires a consultant. This process can take a year or more. “The last stage is the final statement and follow up,” Booth says. “If the parties resolve the issues in mediation, they will reach an agreement and the NCP will essentially provide as much detail as it can legally provide on that agreement subject to confidentiality. But if the parties don’t reach an agreement, the NCP will issue a final statement. The quality and content of the final statement varies between NCPs. Some NCPs will provide minimal information and won’t comment on the issues raised in the final statement. Other NCPs will actually make a determination of a company’s compliance or noncompliance with the guidelines.”

Because these determinations are not judicial—and therefore not binding—the NCPs cannot enforce their implementation.

Booth enumerates the strengths and weaknesses of the process. “In general, they’re cheaper and faster,” she says. “The timeline for an NCP complaint is supposed to be about a year. Most often it is longer than a year, especially if extensive mediation is involved. Some complaints will go for two years. But some of the lawsuits we’re seeing—for example, in France with the due diligence law—have been going on for several years now.”

The process is also less adversarial. “We’re not talking about judges here,” she notes. “We’re not talking about courtrooms. The complainant and the company are face to face in a room (or, increasingly, via Zoom). The aim is to find common ground on the issues raised in the dispute and reach an agreement.”

Because the process is non-judicial, it isn’t restricted to monetary or non-monetary compensation. “Complainants might want the company to acknowledge the harm that they’ve caused or make an apology,” she adds. “In many complaints, the complainant seeks improved internal due diligence processes, such as improved human rights policies.”

Another advantage is that the process opens a line of communication. “You can speak directly with the company concerned,” she continues. “It can be a platform for long-term engagement between the parties involved and sometimes other stakeholders such as shareholders.”

Booth does acknowledge limitations, such as the voluntary nature of the process and the agreements’ lack of enforceability. “Also, many complaints are rejected at the initial assessment stage,” she notes. “Some NCPs set too high bar at the initial assessment stage, which closes the door to any sort of discussion happening between the parties.”

The performance of NCPs indeed varies greatly. “OECD Watch does NCP evaluations,” she explains. “On our website you can see which NCPs are stronger or more effective than others. An effective NCP has certain features.” For example, it will be more independent from government trade commissions, it will maintain a low bar for its initial assessment, and it will conduct its own investigations or contract an outside firm to research the case. Some NCPs have improved their performance, as in Australia following an independent review in 2017 that took place after a formal complaint was filed.

At the same time, NCPs are not well-funded. Shortage of staff and staff turnover also undermine their efficacy. And NCPs vary in terms of where they are housed and who serve as staff. “Most NCPs are staffed by bureaucrats and there is no stakeholder oversight,” Booth observes. But others, like in Australia and the Netherlands, have more effective structures with representatives from NGOs, trade unions, and business plus external experts.” Most NCPs are also subject to changes if government changes hands after elections.

More sobering still is the rarity of actual agreements. “Very, very few agreements happen,” she concludes. “In 2022, there was only one agreement reached between a company and a community or NGO complainant. So, agreements are very rare. And remedy is certainly not guaranteed.”

The Canadian NCP

MiningWatch Canada stopped bringing complaints to the OECD mechanism in 2012. But it has continued to engage with the Canadian NCP by filing briefs and recommending reforms. “In 2021 we supported a substantial submission complaint brought by OECD Watch against the Canadian NCP to the investment committee of the OECD,” explains Catherine Coumans. “This is only the second time that such a complaint has been brought against an NCP.”

As a result of this engagement with the OECD, MiningWatch Canada has concluded that “the Canadian NCP, among others, is not independent of political interference,” Coumans continues. “It does not carry out investigations, does not make findings of fact although it sometimes appears to in ways that actually harm notifiers, and does not ensure the provision of remedy for those harmed. It can offer its good offices for mediation but does so very rarely. It is protective of corporate reputations but not those of notifiers.”

She points out that the Canadian NCP had a number of opportunities to reform itself. In 2005, for instance, a parliamentary committee reviewed the operations of Canada’s NCP and concluded that there was a need to “strengthen the rules and the mandate of the Canadian NCP to enable it to respond to complaints promptly, to undertake proper investigations, and to recommend appropriate measures against companies found to be acting in violation of the OECD guidelines.” Coumans notes that “the NCP at that time did not do that, and unfortunately it still does not.”

A 2016 report from MiningWatch Canada, OECD Watch, and Above Ground concluded that the Canadian NCP lacked independence and was opaque. “The process involves unjustified delays,” the report continues.

The NCP applies a high threshold for accepting complaints. The NCP does not make findings on whether the companies have breached the guidelines. The government penalty for companies that don’t participate has proven to be ineffective in promoting compliance with the OECD guidelines for multinational enterprises. The process rarely concludes with an agreement or recommendations and there are no effective follow-up procedures in place. And in over 15 years at that point of existence the NCP had consistently failed to provide complainants with effective remedy.

In 2018, the United Nations Working Group on Business and Human Rights was equally scathing:

The NCP was perceived by stakeholders as potentially not fully independent, given that it was housed within a ministry that was responsible for promoting overseas trade and investment. Stakeholders also noted that the NCP had no external advisory or oversight body. It was highlighted to the working group that the lack of confidence of civil society in the national contact point was apparent, which might have limited the numbers of cases brought before it.

One year later, a peer review report recommended that the Canadian NCP include civil society as a social partner along with the social partners along with the business community and labor. “The NCP has not yet responded to this simple recommendation,” Coumans notes.

The Sakto Case

In 2016, the Bruno Manser Fund, an NGO based in Switzerland that works to preserve rainforests, filed a complaint with the Canadian NCP against an Ottawa-based group called the Sakto Group, a real estate and investment holding company. Sakto maintains close ties both to Canadian politicians in Ottawa and to the family of the governor of the Malaysian state of Sarawak.

In October 2016, the Canadian NCP agreed to accept the case for good offices. The Bruno Manser Fund (BMF) also agreed to participate in the NCP’s mediation. However, after providing that draft initial assessment, the NCP became unresponsive to BMF for many months. Finally, in March 2017, the NCP informed both parties that it intended to close the case without providing any reasons. Shortly after that, BMF went public with the case for the first time.

“In July 2017, without consulting BMF, the NCP published a final statement that placed blame for closing the case on both BMF, for allegedly breaching confidentiality, and on the Sakto group,” Catherine Coumans recalls. The NCP’s statement criticized Sakto for “involving a member of parliament during the confidential NCP assessment process, [its] aggressive challenge of the NCP’s jurisdiction, [and its] legal counsel making submissions to the government of Canada’s Deputy Minister of Justice.”

Almost a year later, “the Canadian NCP removed the first published final statement and replaced it with a new one,” she continues. “The May 2018 final statement removes all mention of the breach of confidentiality and the pressure exerted on the NCP by Sakto and its lawyers and political allies. But it does mention what the NCP calls a breach of confidentiality by BMF, implying that this was the sole reason for rejecting the complaint.”

Even the OECD investment committee took the Canadian government to task in its September 2022 response to a substantiated submission brought over its handling of this case, finding that the Canadian NCP was not fully transparent, that it lacked predictability, and was not fully compatible with OECD procedures. “The response also took seriously OECD Watch’s concern that Canada’s biased handling of the Sakto complaint may have resulted in harm to the Bruno Manser Fund,” Coumans relates. “The committee recommended that the Canadian government address this concern by following up with the parties and taking any appropriate measure within its mandate to mitigate any adverse effects.”

But the Canadian NCP has not followed up or “changed its final statement on the case of May 2018 to remove its blatant bias against the Bruno Manser Fund,” she reports. “Clearly this case exemplifies how engaging the Canadian NCP can harm a complainant. We repeatedly noticed how complainants would have been better off not having brought a case at all. The NCP’s dismissal of most cases was widely interpreted, for example by the media or by socially responsible investors, as evidence that there was no substance to the complaint itself.”

She adds that “the Sakto group has used the NCP complaint mechanism in the legal case to say, ‘Look, it got thrown out in Canada. You see: these people have no grounds to stand on plus you can’t trust them because they breached confidentiality.’ So, the NCP actually deeply harmed the Bruno Manser Fund in their legal case.”

Preparing a Potential Complaint

The Lynas corporation mines rare earth elements in Western Australia and then ships the ore 6,000 kilometers to Malaysia for processing. At both the points of extraction and processing, the production has considerable environmental impacts.

Near the Malaysian port of Kuantan, which also happens to be Lee Tan’s hometown, the processing has created huge piles of radioactive and otherwise contaminated waste. “In Malaysia,” Tan reports, “law enforcement for environmental protection is rather limited and technically they do not have the capacity to deal with this rather complex and massive quantity of waste. By the end of this year, we will have something like 1.6 million tons if not more of the radioactive waste plus several more million tons of the nonradioactive but hazardous waste.”

Originally, Lynas agreed to remove waste from its Malaysian plant. Now, however, it wants to construct a permanent waste disposal facility for it. “I’ve been very busy collecting expert opinions on the lack of suitability of this particular location for the permanent disposal of this waste,” Tan continues. “Malaysia is a wet, tropical country where the rainfall in a day can be more than two meters. That’s a lot of rain! Even in semi-arid environments in the sparsely populated Australian outback, this kind of radioactive waste dump has been rejected for scientific and technical reason. Yet in the wet tropical country of Malaysia, in a peat swamp close to densely populated coastal settlements, tourist resorts, and the South China Sea, the proposal has been accepted. We are appealing that decision, but we are not hopeful.”

The area around the waste facility is rather densely populated. “Children are playing in the estuary where Lynas wastewater is channeled,” Tan adds. “There are still remnants of a very large, beautiful peat mangrove, which is a very important fishing ground for the local people. Much of the shellfish comes from the mangrove, and the pollutants will also affect the quality of the shellfish that local people still consume. It does not help when Lynas claims that its operation causes zero harm.”

For the moment, Malaysian and Australian activists are still pursuing legal avenues, particularly in Malaysia around the approval process for the waste dump. “In terms of the OECD complaint,” Tan reports, “the harm was clearly established with the amount of radioactive waste that’s been produced, the manner in which this waste has been handled over the last 10 years, and the inappropriate location of the waste dump.”

Another source of complaint is the lack of transparency. The public can only gain access to the environmental impact assessment for one hour at the Malaysian Department of Environment. “We’re talking about volumes of documents that are highly technical and yet we have no easy access to it,” Tan explains. “In Australia, all the EIAs are published online and you can download them.”

Then there’s the issue of radioactivity. “Under international principles for radioactive waste there must be a justification of benefit for the waste to be stored in a particular location,” she adds. Since Lynas received a 12-year tax break from the Malaysian government, it has not paid any corporate tax. Moreover, Lynas has maintained a double standard on this issue because it operates according to much stricter regulations in Australia for its radioactive waste. “Lynas is pushing pollution into a developing country with less political will and capability to tackle these kinds of issues,” she notes.

“Our ultimate goal,” she adds, “is to revert back to the original license condition where Lynas is required to remove the radioactive waste. In fact, Lynas has signed two legal undertakings in Malaysia that it would remove the radioactive waste if there is no suitable site available for the waste in Malaysia. We have an engineer, a geo-hydrologist, and a waste specialist on our side to provide expert opinions, which we will use when we have exhausted all legal avenues in Malaysia to challenge the approval for the radioactive waste dump. We will also seek rehabilitation and clean-up by the company.”

AidWatch Australia plans to work with other groups when it eventually brings a complaint to the Australian NCP, something that OECD Watch also recommends. “There are so many flaws with NCPs that, more often than not, the case will fail to reach an agreement,” Katharine Booth explains. “So, the complaint should not rest on its own, and the NGO filing the complaint should also be targeting the media.”

Catherine Coumans also has recommendations about how to approach the Australian NCP. “I would talk to them about confidentiality,” she says. “People need to be able to campaign to protect themselves. What kind of restrictions would confidentiality put on you, your group, and others that might get involved? Ask them if they would hire a group to do an independent report on the issues that you’re raising. And would they make a statement of fact? Would they actually come out and say that the guidelines were breached?”

Although the OECD process is non-judicial and non-binding, Tan and others hope to compel Lynas to come to the table to avoid damage to its reputation. “I had experience with a NCP complaint when I worked for the Australian Conservation Foundation many years ago,” she recalls. “It was a different kind of complaint, and we didn’t get very far with that. We’re not expecting huge outcome from this one either. But we have no choice but to try.”

Other Options

The OECD is not the only place where civil society organizations can go if they’ve exhausted all the options at a national level.

“There are complaint mechanisms in development banks, if the harm is caused by a development bank,” Katharine Booth relates, “Increasingly there are also legislative initiatives such as the French and German supply chain laws. Australia and the UK have modern slavery laws, though they are quite limited. The EU is going to hopefully introduce a due diligence law this or next year, which will be extra-territorial, so it will extend beyond the EU’s borders. This will also hopefully provide some sort of enforcement mechanism for companies that fail to conduct adequate due diligence. But while the scope of these initiatives is really broad, there will still be gaps. There are always gaps. And the NCPs can often fill that gap.”

Canada, too, has tabled legislation that, if passed, would “require Canadian-based companies to carry out human rights and environmental due diligence,” Catherine Coumans notes. “It provides access to our courts for people who’ve been harmed by Canadian-based companies operating overseas.” In this legislation, the OECD guidelines are one of the referenced standards. “So, the stronger the standards are the better,” she adds, though she notes that the problem with the OECD is not the standards but the NCPs.

The post Challenging Mining Corporations at the International Level appeared first on Foreign Policy In Focus.

This September is the sixtieth anniversary of U.S. and Soviet ratification of the world’s first significant nuclear arms control agreement, the Partial Test Ban Treaty. Thus, it’s an appropriate time to examine that treaty, as well as to consider what might be done to end the danger of nuclear annihilation.

Although the use, in 1945, of atomic bombs to destroy Hiroshima and Nagasaki unleashed a wave of public concern about human survival in the nuclear age, it declined with the emergence of the Cold War. But another, even larger wave developed during the 1950s and early 1960s as the nuclear arms race surged forward. At the time, the governments of the United States, the Soviet Union, and Britain engaged in testing a new nuclear device, the H-bomb, with a thousand times the power of the atomic bomb.

Many people found this situation alarming. Not only did the advent of H-bombs point toward universal doom in a future war, but the testing of the weapons sent vast clouds of radioactive “fallout” into the atmosphere, where it drifted around the planet until it descended upon the populace below. In 1957, Professor Linus Pauling, a Nobel Prize winner in chemistry, predicted that, thanks to the nuclear tests already conducted, a million people would die early, and 200,000 children would be born with serious mental deficiency or physical defects.

In reaction to this growing menace, millions of people around the world began to resist nuclear weapons. They formed new, activist organizations, including the National Committee for a Sane Nuclear Policy (better known as SANE) and Women Strike for Peace (in the United States), the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament (in Britain, Canada, Australia, and New Zealand), the Japan Council Against A & H Bombs and the Japan Congress Against A & H Bombs (in Japan), and the Struggle Against Atomic Death (in West Germany). Even in the Soviet bloc, concerned scientists pressed for an end to the nuclear arms race.

Government officials in nuclear-armed nations, troubled by the rising agitation, as well as by opinion polls showing widespread popular distaste for nuclear testing, nuclear weapons, and nuclear war, gradually began to adapt their policies to the demands of the public. Meeting with top scientists in the U.S. nuclear weapons program, U.S. President Dwight Eisenhower told them that the U.S. government was “up against an extremely difficult world opinion situation” and that the country “could not permit itself to be ‘crucified on a cross of atoms.’” If U.S. nuclear testing continued, U.S. Secretary of State John Foster Dulles warned the president, “the slight military gains” would be “outweighed by the political losses.”

Accordingly, in 1958, the Soviet, American, and British governments halted nuclear testing while beginning negotiations for a test ban treaty. Failing to secure an agreement, they resumed nuclear tests in 1961, which led to nuclear testing remaining a very hot political issue for people and governments alike.

Into this controversy stepped Norman Cousins, the editor of a widely-read public affairs magazine, the Saturday Review, and, also, founder and co-chair of SANE. During a lengthy meeting at the White House with President John F. Kennedy in November 1962, Cousins inquired if the president would like him to meet with Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev to try to smooth the diplomatic path toward a nuclear test ban treaty.  Kennedy responded affirmatively and, in the following months, Cousins shuttled back and forth between the two world leaders. Ultimately, Cousins overcame Khrushchev’s suspicions of Kennedy and, then, convinced Kennedy to deliver a major speech with “a breathtaking new approach” to Soviet-American relations.

This American University address, partially written by Cousins, proved an immediate success with Khrushchev. Test ban negotiations commenced in Moscow during July 1963, resulting in the Partial Test Ban Treaty―banning nuclear testing in the atmosphere, in outer space, and under water.

From the standpoint of ending the nuclear arms race, the treaty had its limitations. Because the treaty left unaddressed the issue of nuclear testing underground, the nuclear powers and aspiring nuclear powers simply shifted nuclear tests to this new locale. Furthermore, with nuclear fallout no longer a major public concern, popular pressure to halt nuclear testing―and, thereby, choke off the arms race―declined.

Nevertheless, the Partial Test Ban Treaty proved a turning point in world history. Together with the nuclear disarmament campaign that produced the treaty, it reduced Cold War hostility and ushered in a period of détente between the U.S. and Soviet governments. Furthermore, widespread nuclear proliferation, which seemed imminent at the time, failed to materialize.  Even today, 60 years later, there are only nine nuclear powers.

Most important, the treaty demonstrated that nuclear arms control and disarmament were feasible. And so a host of treaties followed that substantially reduced nuclear dangers. These included the Nonproliferation Treaty, Strategic Arms Limitation Treaties, the Intermediate-Range Nuclear Forces Treaty, Strategic Arms Reduction Treaties, and the Comprehensive Test Ban Treaty. Through these treaties, as well as through unilateral action―both spurred on by popular pressure―the number of nuclear weapons in the world dropped sharply, from 70,000 to roughly 12,500. Meanwhile, nuclear war became increasingly unthinkable.

Of course, in recent years, with the decline of popular pressure against nuclear weapons, the prospect of nuclear annihilation has revived. Disarmament treaties have been scrapped, a new nuclear arms race has begun, and reckless leaders of nuclear nations have publicly threatened nuclear war. Although a UN Treaty on the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons entered into force in 2021, the nine nuclear powers have resisted signing it.

Even so, as the Partial Test Ban Treaty and its successors show us, arms control and disarmament treaties have helped to curb the nuclear arms race and prevent nuclear war. Similarly, the revived march toward nuclear catastrophe can be halted by finally banning nuclear weapons―if people will demand it.

The post From the Partial Test Ban Treaty to a Nuclear Weapons-Free World appeared first on Foreign Policy In Focus.

When I heard that Salvador Allende won the Chilean presidential elections in September 1970 and sought to bring his country to socialism by peaceful means, I decided to do my doctoral dissertation on Chile. In May 1972, I went to take a crash course in Spanish in Cuernavaca in the Mexican state of Morelos, the birthplace of the legendary peasant leader Emiliano Zapata whose life had been made into a movie starring Marlon Brando that I had seen and liked as a teenager. After three weeks, I felt that the course had substantially improved the rudimentary Spanish I had from high school in the Philippines. So, I flew to Santiago, arriving in the capital in the midst of the Chilean winter, greeted by tear gas and skirmishes of opposing political groups in the aftermath of a demonstration. Hauling two suitcases, I made it with great difficulty from the bus depot to the historic Hotel Claridge, a few blocks from La Moneda, the presidential palace.

Two expectations were immediately dashed when I arrived in Santiago. The first was that I could get by with my “Mexican-Filipino” Spanish. This could only be remedied through daily conversations with Chileans, and I soon learned how to swallow consonants at the end of a word, as in mao o meno instead of mas o menos.

The second was that the topic for my dissertation, leftist organizing in the callampas, or shantytowns, was worth pursuing. A few weeks in Santiago disabused me of the impression of a revolutionary momentum that I had gathered reading about events in Chile in left-wing publications in the United States. People on the left were constantly being mobilized for marches and rallies in the center of Santiago, and increasingly, the reason for this was to counter the demonstrations mounted by the right. My friends brought me to these events, where there were an increasing number of skirmishes with right-wing thugs.

The Revolution on the Defensive

I noticed a certain defensiveness among participants in these mobilizations and a reluctance to be caught alone when leaving them, for fear of being harassed or worse by roaming bands of rightists. The revolution, it dawned on me, was on the defensive, and the right was beginning to take command of the streets. Twice I was nearly beaten up because I made the stupid mistake of observing right-wing demonstrations with El Siglo, the Communist Party newspaper, tucked prominently under my arm. Stopped by some Christian Democratic youth partisans, I said I was a Princeton University graduate student doing research on Chilean politics. They sneered and told me I was one of Allende’s “thugs” imported from Cuba. I guess they thought I was being provocative, with El Siglo tucked under my arm.  Thankfully, the sudden arrival of a Mexican friend saved me from a beating. On the other occasion, my fleet feet did the job.

When I looked at the faces of the predominantly white right-wing crowds, many of them blond-haired, I imagined the same enraged faces at the fascist and Nazi demonstrations that took control of the streets in Italy and Germany. These were people who looked with disdain at what they called the rotos, or “broken ones,” that filled the left-wing demonstrations, people who were darker, many of them clearly of indigenous extraction.

I had wanted to do a doctoral thesis that would make some contribution to activist organizing in revolutionary times. This had been overtaken by events, and I made the painful decision to do, instead, a thesis aimed at gaining an understanding of the rise of a counterrevolution, something that would be of greater relevance for progressive analysts and organizers—but also something that would be difficult owing to rightists’ suspicion of what an Asian interviewer, allegedly from an American Ivy League university, was up to.

Over the next few months, I interviewed both people on the right and partisans of the left.   Some respondents on the right saw Allende and the Unidad Popular (UP) as a “minority government” out to impose itself on the majority through “questionable” constitutional measures. Others saw the “constitutional road to socialism” as simply a cover for a plot to impose a “Stalinist dictatorship.” Still others saw the appeal to the middle class as “pure demagoguery” meant to lull the middle class into complacency as the left set about to “destroy democracy.” Most of the right-wingers I interviewed were Christian Democrats, who saw former Christian Democrats who had joined the UP and even such true-blue Christian Democrats as Radomiro Tomic, Allende’s rival in the 1970 elections, as “people who had been fooled by the Communists.” Practically all had become entrenched in their attitude of great suspicion, disdain, or hostility to the left.

Interviews with people on the left brought up a uniform response: that the middle classes were being misled and manipulated by the right wing to believe that their class interests were with the rich rather than with the working class. Most believed in the Unidad Popular’s formula for revolution–that a broad alliance between working class, middle class, and constitutionally oriented sectors of the upper class would be the social engine of revolutionary transformation. There was a discounting of the independent dynamic of the middle sectors, a view of them as a passive mass that would respond to their “real” class interests, which lay in an alliance with the working class.

Reality Check in Valdivia

The myopia of this view was underlined by a confrontation with a small farmer, or pequeno agricultor, in southern Chile. I went to soggy Valdivia in the far south of Chile with an American friend, the late historian Bill Blum who was later to become an expert in U.S. intervention, to look up a Christian Democratic farmer that had been recommended by a fellow graduate student at the Princeton sociology department. After a couple of weeks of intensive interviewing and documentary research in Santiago, I thought I would relax a bit and enjoy the famed Chilean hospitality. We were warmly received by the farmer and his family, which included a son and two daughters. A goat was slaughtered for us, and we sat down to a hearty dinner on our first night. Then our host started cursing Allende, calling him simply a tool for the Communist Party to “impose its dictatorship on Chile.” The Socialist Party of Allende was no better than the Communists, and the Izquierda Cristiana, composed of former Christian Democrats that had joined the Unidad Popular, were “traitors.” My friend and I kept our politics to ourselves and tried to guide the discussion to more innocuous topics. I wanted to interview him on his views, I said, but we could do that after dinner. He said fine, but after a few minutes, he again began his anti-leftist tirade.

The next day at breakfast, lunch, and dinner was more of the same hospitality punctuated by lengthy invectives against “communists who will take away my property and give them to the rotos.” Finally, at dinner on our second day, I could no longer tolerate his litany of “crimes of the left” and said I actually thought Allende was fighting for social justice and the land reform he was trying to push would actually benefit medium farmers like him and would negatively impact only the big landholders.

Chileans, I had been told, could be really friendly and hospitable until they smelled your politics, after which you either became a really close friend or you became an outcast. My friend and I became outcasts, and our not being asked to breakfast the next day was a clear sign that Bill and I had overstayed our welcome. This was unfortunate, not least owing to the fact that we were on friendly terms with the farmer’s two daughters.

This experience brought home to me how ghettoized Chile’s classes were, how class formed such gulfs between the elite, the middle class, and the workers. Chile’s roughly equal electoral division between the National Party, the Christian Democratic Party, and the Unidad Popular reflected class solidarities that were difficult to bridge. My experience in Valdivia confirmed my worst fear, that is, that the Unidad Popular had lost the middle classes and that this did not stem so much from what its policies actually were than from deep-seated fears that the gains of workers and the lower classes would only come at their expense.

The danger of an inflamed middle class that saw its status and interests threatened from below, pushing it to a counterrevolutionary position was confirmed as I read up on the events leading up to Mussolini’s taking of power in Italy and Hitler’s ascent to power during the Weimer Republic in Germany.

This brings up the question of what to expect from the middle class in conditions of severe class conflict. Among both liberals and progressives at that time, it was common to portray the middle class as an ally of the working class and the lower classes generally and to consider that it was by and large a force for democratization. But Chile showed that, contrary to this assumption, the middle classes are not necessarily forces for democratization in developing countries. In fact, when the poorer classes are being mobilized with a revolutionary agenda, the middle classes can become a mass base for counterrevolution, as in Germany and Italy in the 1920s when the middle class provided the foot soldiers of the fascist movements.

It was a phenomenon that I was again to encounter 40 years later, when I had a front row seat to middle-class mobilizations against the elected government of Yingluck Shinawatra in Thailand. Yingluck was a stand-in for her brother Thaksin, who had revolutionized Thai politics by mobilizing the rural poor. Supported by the middle class and the Thai elite, the military seized power in Thailand in 2014, ushering in a decade of military rule.

Seymour Martin Lipset famously argued that the middle class was a force for democratization in the developing world. After observing counterrevolutionary movements against the lower classes in Chile and Thailand, I see instead a Janus-faced class: a force for democracy when it is fighting elites defending their power and privileges, a force for reaction when confronted with lower classes seeking a revolutionary transformation of society.

The roles of the Central Intelligence Agency, the Chilean elites, the Chicago Boys, and the Chilean military in the coup that overthrew Allende and the neoliberal transformation of Chile under Pinochet have been well-documented and widely studied. There have, however, been few studies, apart from my thesis, on the role of the middle class as the mass base of the counterrevolution. Yet this angry middle-class mob was one of the central features of the Chilean political scene leading up to the coup.

Explaining Sept 11, 1973

After the coup of September 11, progressive analysis of the tragedy and the steps leading up to it focused on the role of the United States, which was seen as directing or working intimately with Pinochet and the leadership of the National and Christian Democratic parties. That a counterrevolutionary mass base had been central in the overthrow tended to be omitted, or if it wasn’t, the tendency was to regard it as largely a force manipulated by the CIA and the elites.

The reality, however, was that, contrary to the prevailing explanations of the coup, which attributed Pinochet’s success to U.S. intervention and the CIA, the counterrevolution was already there prior to the U.S. destabilization efforts; that it was largely determined by internal class dynamics; and that, even without the help of Washington, the Chilean elites found a formidable ally in the middle-class sectors terrified by the prospect of poor sectors rising up with their agenda of justice and equality.

In short, U.S. intervention did take place, but it was successful because it was inserted into an ongoing counterrevolutionary process that had its base in the middle class. CIA destabilization efforts were just one of the factors that contributed to the victory of the right, not the decisive one. This was not something that progressives wanted to hear then, since many wanted a simple black-and-white picture, that is, that the overthrow of Allende was orchestrated from the outside, by the United States.

Being of the left, I could understand why politics demanded such a portrayal of events. Being a sociologist, I realized that the situation was much more nuanced. In my writings on Chile and Thailand, I highlighted internal class conflict in counterrevolutionary mobilization, while not ignoring the role of external intervention or elite manipulation. My aim is simple but important: to warn both progressive analysts and activists that we ignore internal class dynamics at our peril and are satisfied with easy explanations.

Departure

By the time I left Chile around March 1973, I had witnessed two milestones in middle-class radicalization toward the right: the strike of small-truck owners and the marches of middle-class women banging pots and pans. The right by then controlled the streets, mounting demonstration after demonstration and subjecting people identified with the Unidad Popular to harassment and beatings. The left still mounted demonstrations, and the streets still resounded with the happy chant, “El que no salta es momio” (“He who does not jump is a reactionary”), but the mood of defensiveness had deepened.

I sensed it was only a matter of time before the united right would act against the Unidad Popular government. How it would do so and if it would be successful were questions I could not answer then. Still I was surprised at how brutal, thorough, and long the counterrevolution would be. That at least 3,000 people would be killed and thousands more would be turned into political prisoners or exiled was something I had not expected. And the irony is that it was not only the workers and peasants that were devastated by the economic policies of the Chicago Boys but the middle class that had mobilized against Allende as well.

In the next few years, I was involved in solidarity work with Chilean exiles in the United States even as I worked to bring down Ferdinand Marcos in the Philippines. I never could get Chile out of my mind, not least because I was haunted by what might have happened to my friends on the left. I was able to get in touch with only a few when I returned to Chile 20 years later, around 1993, to speak on what lessons the newly developing countries of Asia offered for Chile. It was the period of decompression, under the so-called Concertacion government that succeeded the Pinochet regime. Despite the looser political climate, there was still a great deal of reluctance on the part of the centrist government and, indeed, on the broad left to rehabilitate Allende, the man who had clung to the peaceful Via Chilena, the Chilean Road to socialism, until the end. He may have been naïve, but he was brave and principled, traits underlined by the act of taking his own life on Sept 11, 1973, rather than giving up the presidency.

I will never forget that day sometime in November 1972, outside La Moneda, the early nineteenth-century neoclassical presidential palace in Santiago, when my hand reached out for Allende’s as his open-air motorcade rolled by, and he shook it.

The post Remembering Salvador Allende and the Chilean Counterrevolution appeared first on Foreign Policy In Focus.

The decline of democratic aspirations in Niger and the Sahel more broadly is closely linked to the long-standing influence of the exploitative Françafrique system. Geopolitical interests and disputes between the “West” and Russia further complicate matters, leading to destabilizing events such as the Niger crisis, where President Mohamed Bazoum was overthrown.

Although military coups contradict democratic principles and are not to be welcomed, the situation in Niger has particular nuances. This is a military action that appears to have garnered widespread popular support because of a desire to end a damaging relationship between the country and France, making it appear that the military action was motivated by legitimate concerns. This connection between Niger and France, particularly with regard to the exploitation of mineral resources, especially uranium, appears to be the main concern. The apparent support of a large segment of the population indicates widespread dissatisfaction with the French presence, whose focus on natural resources, particularly uranium, is essential to France’s own energy stability.

Some suggest that war in the region is imminent, triggered by events in Niger. Indeed, France and some ECOWAS (Economic Community of West African States) countries allied with the French have expressed interest in military intervention in the country, under the pretext of restoring democratic order and bringing back Mohamed Bazoum. On the other hand, the current military government in Niger and other countries that have recently experienced similar military coups against leaders sympathetic to France, such as Mali and Burkina Faso, have shown a willingness to intervene as well to help Niger defend its territorial integrity by opposing any attempt at foreign armed interference.

In a statement issued by the Secretary General of the Algerian Workers’ Party, the party condemns threats of foreign military intervention in Niger, stating,

We know: the stakes underlying the desire of US and EU imperialism to intervene militarily in Niger have nothing to do with constitutional legitimacy, any more than democracy and human rights were used to justify the criminal military interventions in Libya, Iraq, Afghanistan, Yemen, and so on. For US and EU imperialism, it is exclusively a matter of ensuring the continued plundering of Niger’s wealth, while the Nigerien people are deprived of basic living conditions and plunged into abject poverty. It is also a matter of imposing the maintenance of a multinational foreign military presence in Niger.

No less interesting are the considerations of a possible intervention by the Wagner Group, a private military company backed by the Russian state, in defense of the coup regime and against French influence, though this is now unlikely given the death of its leader, Yevgeny Prigozhin. The possible outbreak of conflict in the region, involving more than a dozen countries, is a cause for concern. Such a development would seem to favor Western imperialism, as history shows that the exploitation of resources on the African continent usually thrives in a warlike context.

The Uprising of Sahel Youth

The youth uprising in this region, apparently supporting the after coup regimes, reflects a generation that is no longer willing to accept the status quo, seeking to challenge corrupt regimes and demand accountability from their leaders. Social media and digital communication platforms have played a crucial role in mobilizing and galvanizing young activists across borders, fostering a sense of solidarity and collective action.

As the youth of the Sahel come together to amplify their voices, they are calling for inclusive governance, transparent institutions, an end to corruption, and a stop to France’s influence in their domestic affairs and looting of their mineral resources. In Niger, young people engaged in prolonged protests outside the French embassy in Niamey, ultimately culminating in the “occupation” and destruction of embassy premises.

The youth uprising in West Africa and the Sahel serves as a testament to the power of collective action and the belief that the region’s future lies in the hands of its youthful population. As the struggle continues, it remains a defining moment in the region’s history, shaping the path towards a more democratic, inclusive, and just society.

Yet there is a concern that if these young people are not ideologically well-oriented, they could provide fertile ground for far-right movements and groups or even jihadist tendencies. Social movements and other progressive groups are urgently called upon to play a central role in rapidly raising the political consciousness of these young people and thus motivating them to adopt a progressive agenda.

Neoliberalism and Extractivism

The events in the Sahel must be seen in the broader context of the crisis of the region’s neoliberal and extractivist political economy.

The imperial agenda in Africa continues through the interference of global powers. Western and, increasingly, non-Western nations  and transnational corporations frequently enforce harmful trade agreements and pursue neoliberal policies that undermine local economies and increase dependence on global capitalism. These economic pressures undermine the autonomy of African nations and perpetuate a cycle of dependence on foreign aid.

The persistence of extractivism as the dominant development paradigm on the continent is unmistakable. This model, controlled and overseen by transnational corporations (TNCs), leads to the exploitation of abundant mineral resources and thus to the accumulation of global capital at the expense of local communities in the periphery.

In southern African (and the global South more generally), this manifests itself in the perpetuation of a reliance on exporting commodities including cash crops and minerals, at the expense of production to meet the needs of people and the environment. Transnational corporations often benefit from the support of trade and energy agreements that provide them with a degree of impunity and allow them to engage in various economic ills, including illicit financial flows, wage evasion, and other harmful practices. These agreements provide transnational corporations with favorable conditions that allow them to circumvent national regulations and operate with minimal accountability. The abrogation of conditions conducive to the exercise of corporate power and impunity creates a milieu in which instability, conflict, and even conflagrations may be ignited.

Recent political developments, notably the rise of populist, autocratic, and democratic governments, cannot be divorced from the crisis of neoliberalism and extractivism. Some of these regimes have emerged in collaboration with or under the influence of Western powers and global capitalism. Others make use of people’s grievances against the failures of the dominant model and Western interference to oust reigning elites and install themselves in power. Despite their claims to empower local capitalist classes, history shows that these counter-elites end up becoming accomplices of global capital. This further exacerbates inequality and hinders genuine progress and economic self-determination for African nations.

Russia-Ukraine Conflict

In recent times, Africa has become a battleground for dangerous diplomatic maneuvering with economic repercussions stemming from the conflict between Russia and Ukraine. Africa’s reliance on imports of wheat and crude oil from Ukraine and Russia has led to a notable increase in the prices of these essential products. Sanctions on Black Sea ports have disrupted export channels, causing supply shortages and price hikes in African markets. This economic strain is a crucial aspect of the ongoing conflict and underscores the significance of understanding its repercussions on a global scale.

Representatives from Russia and Ukraine have been actively attempting to sway public opinion and influence governance in Africa. Both countries have faced varying degrees of success. Ukraine’s engagement with the African Union has not yielded significant results, while Russia has undertaken extensive diplomatic efforts, exemplified by the Russian Minister of Foreign Affairs and International Cooperation’s recent tour and the Russia-Africa summit attended by many African states in St. Petersburg last month, which was seen  by some as an implicit African endorsement of Putin’s war. Some believe that the summit was “a remarkable diplomatic success” for Russia.

The African countries’ reluctance to condemn the Russian invasion at the UN has been partially attributed to historical affinity. The legacy of the Soviet Union’s support, both logistically and politically, during the era of, mostly, Southern liberation struggles against colonization and apartheid in South Africa still resonates with some African nations. This historical connection continues to influence Africa’s stance on current international conflicts. Another point in Russia’s “favor” is that, unlike some Western powers (members of NATO), Russia tells Africa that it has neither colonized nor exploited the African continent (yet?).

Africa has found itself at the center of the diplomatic and economic consequences of the conflict between Russia and Ukraine. The support once offered by the Soviet Union is now a thing of the past, and the geopolitical landscape has evolved considerably. The alliance between Ukraine and NATO, aligning them with Europe and the United States, has shifted the dynamics of African-Russian relations. African nations may need to recalibrate their historical affiliations and make informed decisions based on the current geopolitical realities.

Western Powers versus China in Africa

The claim that China is the new imperialist power in Africa, surpassing the historical involvement of Europe and the United States, must be critically examined. Although China has actively penetrated the African continent to do business, cooperate, and provide attractive loans, comparing its presence with that of France, Britain, Italy, Portugal, and the United States is too simplistic.

First, China’s economic involvement in Africa, while substantial, pales in comparison to the longstanding influence of Western powers. The figures show that land grabbing and extractivism are practiced on a larger scale by Western countries that have historically exploited African resources to their advantage.

Moreover, Western powers have attached strict conditions to loans and economic assistance in Africa, often perpetuating a cycle of dependence and control. In contrast, China’s loans, though often criticized for their high cost, do not come with the same level of political interference and conditionality as those from the West.

Moreover, the military presence of Russia, France, and the United States in Africa, along with their disputes over influence and military aid, shows that they are still heavily involved in the continent’s affairs. Russia’s Wagner Group and U.S. drone and military bases are examples of their continuing military interests in Africa.

In contrast, China’s approach is characterized by its focus on business and economic development rather than meddling in local politics. This has allowed China to prioritize economic cooperation and infrastructure projects such as the Belt and Road Initiative, construction of airports, bridges, and other major developments.

Although China’s presence in Africa is noteworthy and should be carefully monitored, calling it a new imperialist power misrepresents the complexity of what is happening. Western powers still have significant engagement in Africa, often with even more damaging consequences. Acknowledging these nuances can lead to a more informed discussion about the economic and political dynamics that will shape the future of the African continent.

“Islamic” Insurgency and Fundamentalism

The Islamist insurgency, which originally had its stronghold in West Africa, has now expanded its presence to southern Africa, with northern Mozambique affected by such violent conflict since 2017. Despite the variations in motivations, two common threads can be identified: resource conflicts and the socioeconomic exclusion of citizens from economic and political opportunities.

In Mozambique, the root cause of these insurgencies seems to lie in the frustration and marginalization of youth who are denied access to meaningful economic and political participation. The resulting desperation drives some to extremist ideologies and violence as a means of seeking recognition and change.

As these conflicts escalate, foreign intervention, especially led by Western troops, especially France, has become a common response. In the case of Mozambique, the presence of Russian, SADC (South African Development Community), and Rwandan troops adds to the complexity of the situation. These foreign troops often take a leadership role, in the name of fighting jihadists and terrorism. Although the deployment of foreign troops may address immediate security threats, it also raises concerns that foreign interests may influence local affairs. Replacing local armies with external forces can inadvertently exacerbate existing tensions and create dependence on foreign aid and military support.

Addressing the root causes of these insurgencies requires a comprehensive approach that focuses on socioeconomic development, youth empowerment, and political integration. By providing opportunities for economic inclusion and meaningful participation in governance, the appeal of extremist ideologies can be reduced, thereby shrinking the space for violence and conflict.

Building a People-Led Pan-African Agenda

Amid these challenges, the continent requires a Pan-Africanist popular project to unite social movements and progressive intellectuals. Such a project aims to resist imperial and neoliberal projects and counter anti-democratic, anti-poor governance.

Collaboration among diverse interests of working people is essential to forge alliances for sustainable development and sovereignty protection. A Pan-Africanist popular and progressive agenda seeks unity, solidarity, and economic self-determination for all Africans. It addresses historical injustices, economic disparities, and political challenges while envisioning a united and prosperous Africa. Key elements include eradicating poverty and inequality, ensuring fair distribution of resources, especially land and productive assets, quality education, healthcare, and housing.

Politically, the agenda advocates for accountable leadership and citizen participation beyond elections. It promotes regional integration and genuine movement freedom. Environmentally, it must prioritize sustainable agriculture, eco-friendly industrialization, and people-owned means of production.

Empowering the youth through education and job creation is crucial. Addressing external debt and promoting economic sovereignty are priorities for control over resources and policies. Global solidarity with progressive movements and intellectuals underscores the interconnectedness of African liberation with global justice struggles.

In essence, a grassroots-driven Pan-Africanist agenda must be inextricably rooted in anti-imperialism and anti-colonialism while concurrently adopting and embracing an authentic and robust feminist perspective.

The post Africa at the Crossroads appeared first on Foreign Policy In Focus.

In the 18 months since Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, India’s Narendra Modi has been one of Vladimir Putin’s most valuable tacit supporters. The two have much in common: authoritarian, reactionary, and ruthless in pursuit of their interests, unburdened by any moderating principle of democracy or human rights.

More surprising, perhaps, has been the reaction of India’s opposition: from moderate liberals to the left, the large majority have thrown their weight behind Modi’s policy or urged him to go further. The result has been an opposition disarmed in its principal domestic battles: for economic justice and an inclusive democracy, both of which are imperiled by the Modi government’s Hindu-supremacist politics and crony capitalist economic policies.

Officially neutral, India abstained repeatedly at the United Nations on resolutions against the invasion. More consequentially, Modi has had India act as a conduit for sanctioned Russian oil, providing an important prop for Russia’s beleaguered war economy. Minister of External Affairs S. Jaishankar said that India was morally obliged, in the interests of its poor, to continue buying Russian oil. The sanctions had lowered prices, and buying at a discount, Jaishankar indicated, would bring energy costs down for Indian citizens.

Since the invasion, India’s imports of Russian oil rose from 1 percent to 40 percent of its total oil imports, but petrol and diesel prices remained as high as ever for consumers—neither falling nor rising. If the Indian people have not felt the benefit of this decision, others have. It has enriched, on an extravagant scale, two private companies whose business interests overlap considerably with the political interests of both Prime Minister Modi and President Putin.

A Petro-Alliance And Graft Scandals

Nearly half of India’s imports of Russian oil (45 percent as of March, 69 percent as of May) were cornered by just two private refineries. One, Reliance, is owned by Mukesh Ambani, a business tycoon known to enjoy a close and mutually beneficial relationship with Modi. The other, Nayara Energy, is a subsidiary of the Russian state-owned oil company Rosneft. The two private companies reduced their domestic fuel sales to the barest minimum required of them and sold the refined oil at a huge mark-up on the international market. The massive benefits they enjoyed from laundering Russian crude did not trickle down to India’s consumers.

In contrast, India’s state-owned refiners, which meet 90 percent of the needs of Indian consumers—private companies are required to supply only 10,000 of 65,000 pumps—“largely buy oil under annual term supply deals,” so were not able to easily shift their purchases to the cheaper Russian crude. Even when the annual term contracts were due for renewal, many state-owned companies were wary of replacing West Asian suppliers that had proved “reliable for decades,” with Russian suppliers liable to be fickle and short-lived. Had the public sector companies benefited more from cheaper imports, consumer prices could have fallen.

Simultaneously, Russian oil exporters have artificially inflated the shipping fees they charge Indian importers in order to mitigate the U.S. and EU-initiated price cap. An official at a state-owned refinery said that “no negotiation was allowed [by Russian vendors] over freight arrangements or costs,” the Financial Times reported. In recent months, the price of Russian oil has increased above the $60 cap, even before adjusting for shipping costs. Nonetheless, after inflated shipping costs, Indian importers of Russian crude save around $11 per barrel as compared to world prices.

The notion that Indian consumers were spared the steep rise in pump prices that the rest of world has suffered, thanks to India’s decision to circumvent sanctions, is debatable. It was, after all, the public sector that bore the burden of supplying the domestic market, largely on the basis of oil imported from elsewhere than Russia, and thus at inflated global prices.

Nayara’s history is instructive. Rosneft bought the refinery in 2016 from Essar Oil, paying more than twice the refinery’s previously estimated worth. This deal was nearly dead until it was mysteriously revived at the last minute, reportedly through the personal intervention of Putin and Modi. It “rescued debt-ridden Essar Oil from bankruptcy” and “gave Rosneft access to the large Indian market” at a time when it was facing international sanctions resulting from Russia’s annexation of Ukraine’s Crimea in 2014. Also in 2016, Indian public sector energy firms heavily overpaid to acquire a 49 percent stake in the Rosneft subsidiary Vankor, at a time when production in Vankor oil fields was falling and the company was under sanctions.

Jairam Ramesh, an MP of the Indian National Congress, the leading opposition party, said that the acquisition of Essar by Rosneft indicated “a suspicious pattern in which public sector units overpay a Russian firm for an oil asset, which, in turn, overpays a politically-connected private Indian firm for another energy asset.” He asked Modi, “did you transfer Indian taxpayer money to the pockets of private Indian companies to help finance your political activities?”

He raised this question in the wake of the Hindenburg report, which exposed the corrupt empire of Gautam Adani, the tycoon in the closest corporate embrace with Modi. Pointing out that Russia’s state-owned VT Bank’s role was involved with the Adani and Essar transactions, Ramesh asked the prime minister to clarify his government’s involvement “in a global kleptocratic network involving other firms with deep political connections.”

Rosneft’s Nayara Energy and Reliance have both reaped a huge windfall laundering Russian crude: acting as a conduit for Russia to bypass sanctions and reach Western markets in the form of refined products. Naturally, the Western countries that buy the laundered oil from India are complicit in bypassing the sanctions they themselves have imposed.

In a related development, the mysterious Mumbai-based shipping company Gatik Ship Management added 56 tankers to its fleet (from just two) since the 2022 invasion. On paper Gatik is owned by an offshore company in the Marshall Islands, which hides the real identity of its owner. However, it is strongly suspected to be a monopoly transporter of crude oil from Russia to Rosneft’s Nayara refinery in Gujarat.

Gatik is the largest of the “dark fleets” transporting Russian oil, which have mushroomed globally since the war. This scam lets Russian transporters get Western insurance coverage even if they’re in violation of the price cap placed by sanctions on Russian crude. In June 2023, Gatik lost Western insurance cover, and its website mysteriously disappeared. But such dark fleets are designed to emerge and then melt away: their rise and fall have been compared “to the brief careers of TikTok stars.”

Jawahar Sircar, an MP of the Trinamool Congress, a smaller opposition party, noted in a May article that this overnight expansion of a shipping company dedicated to imports of Russian oil was “a mammoth operation [that] could not have taken place without official patronage and the assistance of both countries.”

“Having watched Narendra Modi for nine years, of which more than two were spent ‘in his government,” he wrote, “I can state with certainty that every action of his has an ulterior motive of helping someone make huge profits. I guess these crony capitalists, in turn, look after Modi’s needs.”

Gujarat, Modi’s own personal stronghold for decades, is home to Mukesh Ambani and Gautam Adani, to the Reliance and Essar-Rosneft refineries, and to the Vadinar port from where the Gatik tankers set sail.

The Opposition Flounders

All this amounts to a graft scandal in plain sight. Surprisingly, India’s opposition has not sought to exploit this scandal even though it has pursued such scandals in the past. For example, all opposition parties— especially the Left—diligently questioned the prime minister’s personal role in the 2015 Rafale deal with French aviation company Dassault. It was a major issue for the opposition in the 2019 parliamentary elections.

But when it comes to Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, a different approach applies. Most opposition parties have explicitly supported the Modi government’s claim to act in the “national interest” by circumventing sanctions, even though the prime minister’s cronies, not ordinary Indians, have benefited.

In June, Congress leader Rahul Gandhi endorsed the government’s policy towards the invasion, saying that India had “certain dependencies” on Russia and must “look for its own interest.” MPs who spoke in parliament on the subject were nearly unanimous in urging the government to maintain neutrality between Russia and the West to serve India’s “national interests.” Last year, even those Congress MPs such as Shashi Tharoor and Manish Tewari who had been critical of Russia ultimately lined up behind their party’s policy. “Does Russia alone bear responsibility for this conflict? The Anglo-American alliance bears equal responsibility,” Tewari said. The leader of a smaller, regional opposition party, the Trinamool Congress, wrote to the prime minister declaring that the government’s policy deserved patriotic support from all. Alone among MPs, T. Sumathy of the Dravida Progressive Party, which has its base among Tamils, explicitly supported Ukrainian resistance.

On the Left, the Communist Party of India (Marxist) took an even more pro-Russia position on UN votes than the government. Its general secretary accused Modi of “joining” with America and sacrificing India’s “independent foreign policy,” by refusing to vote with Russia. The CPI(M) called on the government to “circumvent U.S. sanctions against Russia and work out a discounted energy deal with Moscow,” This was indistinguishable from the government’s own position. They did not even demand that the energy discounts be secured for public sector oil companies, and hence used to reduce pump prices. India’s largest communist party, which still rules Kerala, thus placed its own reputation for incorruptibility and defense of the underprivileged at the service of the government. It allowed Modi to present his self-serving oil deal as a response to popular demand and an expression of his independence from U.S. pressure.

In fact, “U.S. pressure” on India over sanctions is a useful fiction for both countries. As early as March 2022, the United States had indicated its tacit acceptance of India’s position, and in the year and a half since, it has made it even clearer that it is comfortable with India’s relationship with Russia. The United States and other Western countries, prevented by sanctions from buying oil directly from Russia, mitigate the resulting energy crises at home by buying the “laundered” product from India. The U.S. argument is that the price caps imposed by the West would help India and China negotiate cheaper rates that would squeeze Russia. As in the case of Gatik shipping, India enables Russia to evade the price caps, and the United States has not raised this matter with India as part of its diplomacy.

The Communist Party of India (Marxist-Leninist), which has some electoral presence in the north Indian states of Bihar and Jharkhand, acknowledged that the “repeated abstentions [at the UN] smack of an indirect endorsement of Putin’s war.” But it too retained the broader framework of analysis that held Russian “aggression” as well as US/NATO “interference” responsible for the war. It urged the Modi government to “adopt a proactive role to stop Russian military intervention in Ukraine and the ongoing military mobilization by NATO.” But there is no military mobilization by NATO. Speaking of NATO and remaining silent on the only military mobilization against Russia—Ukraine’s own national resistance to the invasion—casts Ukraine as a NATO proxy and denies it recognition of the very political and geopolitical autonomy it is fighting to defend. Formal support for Ukraine’s self-determination comes with a condemnation of the means available to it to defend that self-determination.

The CPI(ML) has not taken any position on the sanctions and oil deals or on the cronyism demonstrated in the time since the invasion. In its view, the Modi government’s “indirect” support for Russia demonstrated “foreign policy paralysis,” which is a result of its attempts to balance its increasing “strategic subservience to the American design of global hegemony” and its ideological affinity with Putin as a far-right strongman and its fear of “antagonizing Russia.” Such an analysis is not merely inaccurate. It serves to obfuscate and mislead. Modi’s foreign policy is far from paralyzed and indirect: it is direct and proactive in pursuing his own political interests through the commercial interests of corporate cronies. His government is not “afraid of antagonizing Russia.”—it sees itself as Russia’s partner in the project of achieving global hegemony for authoritarian and reactionary values and forces (including in the West), and recognizes the invasion of Ukraine as a crucial element of that project.

India’s opposition has thus given a free pass to the Modi regime by endorsing a policy that “serves the national interest” but that in reality appeases Russia, betrays Ukraine, promotes a reactionary world order, and delivers huge benefits for Modi’s crony allies.

Multipolar Relativism against Solidarity 

The opposition parties have endorsed another version of the “national interest” argument that also undermines their own defense of democracy in India.

Across all divides, the Indian political and public sphere argues that a “peaceful, negotiated resolution” of the Ukraine conflict is needed that doesn’t diminish Russia’s stature as a major power. The consensus is that Russia’s big power status must be protected in the interests of a “multipolar world order,” which in turn is in India’s “national interest.”

According to a prominent journalist, for instance, “It is in India’s interest for Russia to remain a salient global power centre. For Russia to be defanged would hasten the emergence of bipolar hegemony. India’s refusal to condemn Russia is rooted in its national interest being served by a multipolar, rather than a bipolar, world.” Parliamentarians made much the same argument, with some substituting “unipolar” for “bipolar” as the antonym of “multipolar.”

A variation of the same argument puts a progressive gloss on the same underlying logic: “Regardless of the internal character of competing global powers,” the general secretary of the CPI(ML) wrote, “a multipolar world is certainly more advantageous to progressive forces and movements worldwide in their quest for reversal of neoliberal policies, social transformation and political advance.”

Disregard for nations’ internal democracy is the norm, not the exception, in the “liberal democratic” world order. The United States and the West appease Modi in disregard of his regime’s erosion of India’s internal democracy, just as they appeased Putin, disregarding his intensifying attacks on Russia’s fledgling internal democracy and his violations of international laws. What is new, perhaps, is that such cynical realpolitik is now being dignified as principle even by left parties and intellectuals who want a reputation as partisans of democracy.

In the “multipolar world order” of Putin, Xi, Trump, Modi, and others, every regime is expected to comply with just one universally accepted norm: that each will disregard the crimes committed by each other in pursuit of their “national interests” within their respective spheres of influence. Democratic principles are to have no international standing and may not exert the slightest moral restraint on any regime.

Opposition parties have joined the chorus for a multipolar order but have completely ignored what such an order actually means.  An exception is Congress MP Manish Tewari who did hint that the Ukraine war is a sign of a “new iron curtain” descending on the world, behind which are Russia, China and their allies including Syria, Iran, North Korea, and Myanmar. India, he said, has to choose if it wants to be seen in the company of these authoritarian regimes “or on the side of Western democracies howsoever imperfect and hypocritical they may be.”

But Tewari is wrong to pose the problem as a choice between democratic and authoritarian nations divided by a rigid iron curtain. The divide isn’t vertical. Inside every nation, even “Western democracies,” are political forces that share a vision of a democracy-free world order with their counterparts in other nations. The choice isn’t between Western democracies and their authoritarian adversaries. People need to choose democracy within their own country—and demand that their elected governments choose democracy and justice every time, including in international relations.

The various “questions” of the past—pertaining to slaves, castes, women, LGBTQ—are no longer questions  thanks to slaves, women, homosexuals, and others who fought to establish that their humanity and dignity is beyond question. “Multipolarity” has come to mean a project of discrediting these answers as an alien system imposed by western elites, in favor of majoritarian values that authoritarian leaders claim to be “civilizational” and therefore authentic. Modi, Putin, the Russian fascist Alexandr Dugin, and Xi Jinping are leading advocates of such “civilizational”, rather than universal, values.

Those challenging majoritarianism internally are called traitors by such regimes. The Modi government says protest organizers and human rights defenders are conspirators against this same “national interest.” If “national interests” prevail over the interests of justice in foreign policy, then the political ground to argue that injustice is incompatible with the “national interest” at home is lost.

Political values drive foreign policy. Anti-democratic political forces pursue an anti-democratic order both at home and abroad. For its most powerful advocates, the “multipolar world order” is one in which “democracy” is uprooted from its moorings, emptied of meaning, and reduced to a floating sign that every tyrant and fascist can daub on his own banner.

The disregard for democracy displayed by “left” multipolarists is reflected at home and abroad. Vijay Prashad says we cannot look at BRICS (that now includes Saudi Arabia and Iran) “in a narrow, moralistic way” as “tyrannies and carbon-addicted economies,” but “in a realistic and dialectical way.” Modi’s government might be “ravaging democracy,” but one could still appreciate it for “turning around to the Western countries and saying your issues are not our issues, India is not interested in the NATO template.” Earlier he enthused that “Iran might disagree on some social policies with Venezuela” but both are uniting to “produce a multipolar world.” On this account, murderous oppression is mere “social policy,” an exercise of sovereign state power, to be disregarded by others. What would such “multipolarity” mean to the women of Iran demanding “Woman, Life, Freedom” and “Death to the dictator! Democracy, equality!”? That “Woman, Life, Freedom” became a popular slogan that echoed across the world is evidence that “democracy” is not the property of “Western elites” but is a universal aspiration across diverse regions, countries, and cultures.

Modi attempts to establish the values of caste and gender hierarchy as authentic democracy. He says that Hindu civilization, as the “Mother of Democracy,” needs no lessons from the West. Dugin in a 2020 piece in the Indian journal Seminar, hails “the electoral success of Narendra Modi” as a challenge to “the false pretensions of so-called ‘universality’ of ‘western values’.” He explains further that “multipolarity thus implies a return to the civilizational foundations of each non-western civilization” and a rejection of “liberal democracy and human rights ideology.”

In domestic politics, India’s opposition purports to oppose Modi’s attempts to impose “civilizational” majoritarianism over the country’s pluralist and constitutional democracy. Yet in foreign policy, that same opposition defends policy that not only upholds Modi’s regressive values but specifically enriches and enables his corrupt private circle, and therefore strengthens his political base. The price of challenging this sort of kleptocracy would be determination to oppose its real source: a foreign policy that places geopolitics over democracy, and civilizational values over universal ones. The price of cowardice is already clear: acquiescence in the lie that Modi acts for the Indian people, rather than that of his own clique, and the forsaken opportunity for the democratic opposition to distinguish itself from the Modi government

The post How Modi’s Russia-Ukraine Policy Coopted India’s Opposition appeared first on Foreign Policy In Focus.

After over three months of Thailand being put on hold as the country’s political adversaries tried to figure a way out of the surprising results of the May elections, a solution was finally reached among contending parties in the third week of August. It was a victory for the establishment, a modus vivendi among its different factions.

Seasoned observers say the elements of the deal were the following: Thaksin Shinawatra, the self-exiled former prime minister, would be allowed to return to Thailand with a promise of kid’s glove treatment for his alleged offenses; the Pheu Thai Party, Thaksin’s personal political vehicle, would lead a governing coalition that would include two defeated parties associated with the powerful military; and the Move Forward Party, which had won the most seats in the May parliamentary elections, would be frozen out of the governing coalition.

The deal that united Thaksin with his former enemies—the military and the conservative establishment—generated anger, consternation, and confusion throughout the country. Former Foreign Minister Kasit Piromya, a Thaksin foe and former Democrat Party leader who has also become a severe critic of the military and the lese majeste law on penalizing people accused of defaming the royalty, summed up the situation tongue-in-cheek:

The reality is that this government is composed of personalities from the conservative establishment side. Arch-enemies, Thaksin and the generals are now together as one to put up a stand (maybe the last one) against the forces of change. We must be reminded that Thaksin has all along been part of the establishment. But he wanted to monopolize and was opposed by the rest. Now various elements of the establishment have rejoined one another. The Thai political arena is now a struggle between the established elites and the masses. More dramas will surely come to delight and bewilder all of us.

On the other hand, spokespeople for the Pheu Thai party said that the deal, which would make real estate mogul Srettha Thavisin prime minister, was necessary to end over three months of political uncertainty owing to the absence of a ruling parliamentary coalition.

Move Forward’s Challenge

The country’s latest crisis erupted when the Move Forward Party unexpectedly won the most votes in the parliamentary elections of May 14, 2023. It won 151 seats, besting its coalition partner, the Pheu Thai party, the Thaksin family’s populist vehicle that raked in 141 seats. Left in the dust were the parties controlled by the ruling military regime that gathered a measly 76 seats.

Move Forward’s rise was nothing short of mercurial. Founded just five years ago, in 2018, its first incarnation as Future Forward came in third in the parliamentary elections of 2019. Then, coming in first in 2023, it won 14 million votes, or 40 percent of votes cast, up from 13 percent in 2019. It frustrated the legal maneuvers that the military-controlled Constitutional Court threw at it. The Court dissolved Future Forward in February 2020, only to see it resurrected as Move Forward a month later, with a new leader, Pita Limjaroenrat, who declared that “Move Forward is the new chapter of Future Forward.”

To be prime minister, Pita had to get 376 votes from the 750 members of the bicameral National Assembly. He already had the votes of the eight-party opposition coalition but, going into July 13, he needed to secure more, and this had to come either from the rest of the lower house or from the Senate, or both. Parliament concluded a two-hour voting session with Pita securing 324 votes in his favor, 182 votes against, and 199 abstentions in the first round, falling short of the 376 votes needed to become premier by 52 votes.

The most decisive force that shaped the outcome of July 13 were the 250 senators—all appointed by the military, which considers itself the “guardians of the Kingdom’s three pillars” of Nation, Religion, and the King. Pita hardly picked up any votes from this solid bloc.

The Parliament reconvened on July 19, but Pita’s opponents refused to have a second renomination on the grounds that he had already been rejected a week earlier. As the debate ensued, the Constitutional Court separately announced that Pita had been suspended as a lawmaker over an allegation that he violated election rules by holding shares in a private firm.

Thaksin’s Party Abandons Move Forward

At this point, it became very clear that under no circumstances would the establishment allow Move Forward to lead the government or even be part of a governing coalition—not even if it were to give up its plan to reform Article 112 of the criminal code, the royal defamation law. Pheu Thai then stepped in to lead the process of establishing a new government and, during a month-long period of intense negotiations, it junked Move Forward and moved to an accommodation with other parties, including the two defeated parties connected with the generals that had ruled the country for the last nine years.

Thaksin’s return to Thailand to face lenient treatment is said to be the deal that opened the way to a governing alliance among former foes. Hours after his return on August 20, Parliament elected his man Srettha as prime minister, with 482 votes from the 727 politicians. The only significant party to vote against Srettha in the parliament election was Move Forward.

The royal palace promptly signed off on the deal.

Srettha will lead a fragile coalition of 11 parties. According to press reports, Pheu Thai announced that it would control eight cabinet posts and nine deputy cabinet posts. It also disclosed that the parties of the military—Palang Pracharath and United Thai Nation—will receive two cabinet posts and two deputy posts each. Pheu Thai further revealed that the coalition had agreed to “support” Pheu Thai’s platform of boosting the economy, increasing the minimum wage, ending mandatory military service, supporting the continued legalization of medical marijuana, and amending the constitution to make the country “more democratic,” while leaving untouched the royal defamation law. This statement has been received with great skepticism by the public.

The deal has largely unsettled and angered most of the electorate, which saw the May election’s results as a clear mandate for fundamental change. Will what some have termed the “Back from the Future Coalition” or the “Fast Backward Alliance” be able to defuse the smoldering anger that is the overwhelming response to its formation?

Overreach?

Some observers are of the opinion that this time, the establishment has overreached. Although people are not yet out in the streets in protest, according to this argument, they will come out eventually, leading to another round of intense street battles, like the ones that led to the military coup in 2014.

Others do not see the governing coalition lasting very long, expecting the infighting among former bitter enemies to resume in short order, especially since there is really no agreement on a common program except to form a government. Behind the scenes, the formidable Thaksin and the equally formidable military-backed conservative establishment will be calling the shots, and it’s unlikely they’ll find common ground if they are not to disappoint their constituencies. The mass base of Thaksin, the so-called Redshirts, are expecting his populist agenda to resume after being frozen for almost a decade, while the elite is determined to make no concessions on the social and economic front.

Coming out of the deal, Thaksin and Pheu Thai, some say, are likely to be the big losers, being seen by a significant bloc of former supporters as having betrayed the popular mandate in order to promote the interests of the party and the Thaksin family. Thaksin is seen by many former sympathizers as a has-been. Move Forward has captured their political imagination, the way Thaksin did two decades ago.

What Will Happen Now?

Move Forward, ironically, is the one force that has come out of the whole messy affair untarnished. It never gave up on its promise to reform the lese majeste law. It escaped the dirty wheeling-and-dealing that it would have had to engage in to gain enough support from the forces of the old order to form a new ruling coalition. It will now be able to engage in uncompromising opposition politics, which is in synch with the dark, angry, resentful mood of the majority of the citizenry.

An indication of what lies ahead is the #CONFORALL signature campaign. Determined to have a new constitution that truly reflects the will of the citizens, the People’s Constitution Drafting Group—a network of CSOs and activist groups—is calling for a referendum on having a new charter drafted by a 100-percent elected committee. Three days ahead of the deadline set by the Election Commission to receive the people’s petition before the first Cabinet meeting in early September, organizers were told by the Commission that most of the 113,912 names that had been collected so far from offline and online gatherings were invalid since only signatures on paper documents would be recognized.

In the next three days, 205,739 signatures on paper were delivered to the campaign’s head office—four times larger than the 50,000 threshold required by law. One elated observer said that this reminded her of the time the slogan “You messed with the Wrong Generation!” became the battle cry of the 2020 youth uprising. “The battle lines are being drawn,” she said.

The post Anger Brews in Thailand as Establishment Unites to Foil Change appeared first on Foreign Policy In Focus.

At the beginning of this year, Russia signed an agreement with the Cuban government promising to significantly increase its participation in the Cuban economy. This comes more than 30 years after the collapse of the Soviet Union and the period of the great influence and close association that Moscow had with Havana.

But why now? Putin is eagerly looking for allies wherever it can find them, especially considering the military, economic, and political impact that the Russian invasion of Ukraine and its subsequent crisis like the rebellion led by Prigozhin has had on Russia. However, the Russian economy was weak even before the invasion of Ukraine. The economic weight of Russia does not principally reside in its manufacturing and industrial power but on its status as a mayor extractor and distributor of hydrocarbon products, and on a smaller scale as producer and distributor of other services and products such as weapons.

Although Russia was apparently successful in its neoliberal campaign from 2024 to 2018 in reducing inflation and implementing budgets with surpluses, as well as in creating large monetary reserves and a lower national debt, it failed to overcome its chronic low rate of economic growth. A 2019 Chatham House study by Philip Hanson points out that this success was achieved at the expense of great sacrifices by the Russian people, especially among retirees, and through the prevention of massive protests by the repressive Russian system. This autocratic system, according to Hanson, with its characteristic corruption and its intrusions in the economy and society, constitutes an obstacle for private investment and competition. Hanson ignores the role of the state in boosting economic growth in the Soviet Union and China, albeit in a highly brutal and harshly antidemocratic manner. Yet, Hanson is correct to argue that any attempt to establish reforms in Russia, like the rule of law, runs the risk of destabilizing the existing political system. For these reasons, concludes the British study, such an attempt will not likely be made.

Russia has promised great results with its investments and collaboration with Cuba, but the specific projects that Russia has announced for the island are relatively meager. For example, on May 20, 2023, the website of the Russian Federation referred, in very general terms, to the implementation of projects in the areas of construction, digitalization, agriculture, transport, logistics, tourism, and banking. At the same time, Russian entrepreneurs and functionaries signed agreements with their Cuban counterparts to improve rum and sugar production, ensure the provision of wheat and oil to the island, and to repair tourist installations in poor condition. But there are few specific projects and many of those announced are small and local, like the establishment of a hotel for Russian tourists, the accreditation of 14 Russian enterprises by the Cuban authorities to sell food to the population, the export to Russia of almost a million dollars’ worth of fruit, the creation of a wholesale market to sell Russian merchandise, plans to repair and modernize one sugar mill in central Cuba, and the renovation of the factory Antillana de Acero.

On Cuba’s part, Minister for Foreign Trade and Investment Rodrigo Malmierca declared that “we are working to ensure that Russian investments in Cuba enjoy special protection.” Along those lines, Putin’s most important envoy to Cuba Boris Titov, the presidential commissioner for the rights of Russian entrepreneurs, cited the great concessions made by the Cuban government. These include the granting of land to Russian agricultural producers for 30 years (compared to the 20 renewable years granted to Cuban farmers) and other possible exemptions of taxes related to those lands and tariffs, incentives such as new mechanisms to repatriate profits, and the development of a new merchant marine company to attract investments and facilitate trade with Russia. Russians could also open their own banks and use the ruble for commercial transactions.

Given the nature of Russian state capitalism, including corruption and racketeering, this new phase of Russian economic intervention in Cuba will differ not only from the role that the USSR played until it fell apart, but also the role that Spanish and other European Union investors play in Cuba today. The latter generally follow normal capitalist practices in terms of investments and rates of profit, except to the degree that these have involved the internal organization of the Cuban economy and society in labor and fiscal questions, among others. Thus, for example, according to Boris Titov, the financing of new projects like the establishment of a new hotel in Havana specially designed for Russian tourists will be undertaken by a fund of the Finance Ministry of the Russian Federation, in this manner combining state action with supposed private initiative that is linked to Putin and his henchmen. Approximately 120 millionaires control 70 percent of the economy due to the frequently corrupt concessions that have reinforced the links between the new capitalists and Putin’s regime.

In the meantime, the so-called Russian private sector has gone much farther. In January, the Russian news agency Interfax reported that a “Russia-Cuba Business Council” of more than 100 industrial and commercial companies, presided over by Boris Titov, was exploring “the economic transformation of Cuba based on private companies.” In fact, Titov has publicly declared that Cuba should open the whole of its economy. During a meeting that Titov had with entrepreneurs from the Moscow region, he compared Cuba with the USSR of the late 1980s before the beginning of the great wave of privatizations that were for the most part based on the theft of public property.

Is not at all clear if declarations such as Titov’s mean that the Russian capitalists linked to Putin’s regime are ready to go beyond their role as foreign investors to politically pressure the Cuban government to undertake a large-scale privatization of the Cuban economy. If this is the case, despite the welcome that the Cuban power circles have given to Russian private initiatives, most of the Cuban political bureaucracy will react very negatively to proposals such as Titov’s. The Cuban bureaucracy has approved foreign investment in new enterprises, generally in association with the Cuban state, but has opposed the privatization of existing state enterprises, including the 285 state enterprises that have reported losses, according to data provided by the Cuban authorities in March. There are exceptions to this general rule, such as in the restaurant sector, where small enterprises such as cafeterias that have clearly demonstrated that they are not viable as state property have been converted to cooperatives, formed from above, of the workers in this sector.

The Russian Economic Cast in Cuba

Putin’s principal representatives who are negotiating the new economic relationship with Cuba are associated with the Russian political right. Boris Titov, who heads the list of Putin’s envoys to Cuba and has been the presidential commissioner for entrepreneurial rights since 2012, is an entrepreneur and politician who has led the small Party for Economic Growth that previously was known as Right Cause. As such, Titov has participated in Putin’s electoral farces that allow for the existence of small parties who put up their own candidates but that eventually support Putin when he is elected. In the presidential elections of 2018, Titov finished in sixth place with 0.76 percent of the vote.

But the most surprising and even shocking new Russian presence in Cuba is the Institute for the Economy of Growth, Stolypin P.A. named in honor of Piotr. A. Stolypin who was prime minister and minister of the interior of the Tsarist government from 1906 until his assassination in 1911. Stolypin was a violent and energetic represser of the groups and parties opposed to the Tsarist tyranny, but at the same time he tried to modernize the archaic Russian agriculture both technically and socially. Stolypin’s project was a version of what Antonio Gramsci later called a “passive revolution,” in this case an agricultural modernization from above that would only benefit the landlords and the prosperous peasants.

Today, the Stolypin Institute proposes that Russia should change from its model based on the export of raw materials to the “competitive” model based on the development of small and medium-size enterprises, improvement of the productivity of labor in the private sector, the creation of a new digital economy, and a social sector that functions well (a euphemism for a “social sector” that is small and with the lowest possible public cost.) But, according to the Stolypin Institute, the principal problem is the economic uncertainty that prevents the Russian economy from growing. What we need, insists the Stolypin Institute, is certainty in economic and social policies. The Institute does not say a single word regarding what undoubtedly constitutes the principal source of this uncertainty: the absence of democracy in Russia in every sense of the term, and consequently the absence of the rule of law. The silence of the Stolypin Institute with respect to this fundamental problem of the Russian political and economic system is far more eloquent than anything from its spokespeople and publications.

It remains unclear how far the Stolypin Institute is willing to go in its consultations and advice to the top economic and political officials of the  “Marxist-Leninist” Cuban state and how those high bureaucrats would respond to the interference of the Russian right in the domestic affairs of the island. If Russian economic interference does not lead to significant improvement in the Cuban economy that somehow “compensates” for foreign interference and the corruption caused by such intervention, the answer of Cubans, be they bureaucrats, workers, or professionals, will be highly negative.

The Cuban Economic Situation

The Cuban government is by and large receptive to recent Russian initiatives because of the very serious economic crisis affecting the island, which is approaching the economic disaster that the country suffered in the wake of the collapse of the Soviet bloc. Today, Cuba suffers a grave shortage of the basic products needed for the health and nutrition of its population. Inflation reached 45 percent in April 2023. It’s no surprise that one dollar recently traded for 240 pesos, which 10 times the rate of 24 to 1 that was common until recently.

This crisis has produced the greatest wave of emigration that Cuba has ever witnessed. This wave has been permitted and indirectly stimulated by the Cuban government. Since November 2021, Cubans don’t need to obtain a visa to enter Nicaragua, from which they undertake the long, costly, and frequently dangerous trip to the U.S.-Mexico border. As an ally of the Cuban government, Nicaragua would not have established such a policy without the consent (and likely encouragement) of the Cuban government. By the end of 2023, more than 450,000 Cubans will have emigrated during the previous two years, an extraordinary number for a country of 11 million people. This emigration, especially of young people, will aggravate the demographic crisis that Cuba has experienced for several decades.

Among the immediate causes of the present crisis include the great impact that the COVID pandemic had on Cuba and the consequent dramatic reduction of tourists, along with the measures that Donald Trump adopted to worsen the impact of the criminal blockade of Cuba that President Biden has modified to a very limited extent. For its part, the incompetence and clumsiness of the Cuban government also played an important role in this crisis, particularly its “reordering.” During the great shortage of dollars and euros provoked by the fall of tourism, this monetary reform provoked a great deal of inflation by raising the value of the Cuban peso without a corresponding increase in the productivity of the Cuban economy. Another result of the crisis was the relaxation of government controls over the economy in 2021, allowing the expansion of the private sector with the legalization of micro, small and medium-size private enterprises) which in the case of the middle-sized ones may legally have as many as 100 employees.

In this context, the new Russian policies in Cuba must be viewed with considerable skepticism. The possible contributions of the Russian Federation do not appear likely to rise to the level of Cuban needs, at least in what concerns its economy. Besides, it raises the possibility that Russian initiatives will translate into the adoption of a racket-ridden state capitalism on the island, with a qualitative increase in corruption and social crisis.

The post The New Russian Presence in Cuba appeared first on Foreign Policy In Focus.

The Group of 20, the world’s largest economies, will hold its annual summit of heads of government in New Delhi on September 9 and 10. India currently holds the rotating presidency, and is seeking to focus meetings on “inclusive, equitable and sustainable growth,” among other topics. 

But with diplomatic relations among world powers strained, the Indian government is struggling to forge meaningful areas for consensus. India hosted several ministerial meetings through 2023 discussing trade, environmental issues, sovereign debt crises, health, food insecurity, among other topics. At last year’s G20 summit in Indonesia, Russian and Chinese officials approved language for a joint G20 statement acknowledging pledges on these issues and outlining some remedial economic measures. 

The 2022 statement noted that “most members” of the G20 “condemned the war in Ukraine and stressed it is causing immense human suffering and exacerbating existing fragilities in the global economy.” In 2023, however, Russia and China have blocked texts containing similar language.

From a human rights and social justice perspective, a failure by the G20 to reach agreements on any issues would be a tremendous waste.

Whatever the political differences, the G20’s agenda is meant to focus on the welfare of the billions of humans affected by the group’s decisions. G20 members should recognize that most topics on the G20 agenda—debt crises, social protection programs, food security, internet freedom—at their root are about human rights and should be framed as such.

There is no reason why most G20 members couldn’t support stronger measures against Myanmar’s military junta, whose widespread abuses against its population have been well-reported. Even its long-time defenders, Russia and China, agreed to a United Nations Security Council debate and resolution on the crisis last December. 

Another possible area of agreement is Afghanistan, where the Taliban’s severe restrictions on women’s rights have been widely condemned by governments the world over, including the UN Security Council and even Saudi Arabia, Iran, and the rest of the 57-nation Organisation of Islamic Cooperation (OIC). This is rare unanimity in today’s polarized world, and any hopes of the Taliban reversing course depend on it being maintained.

The G20 could also reach more consensus on the world’s sovereign debt crisis. As of a few months ago, 39 low-income countries were in or near debt distress, according to the International Monetary Fund (IMF). The IMF is imposing austerity measures on many of these countries as a condition of support despite a well-documented history of these policies exacerbating poverty and inequality and undercutting rights. 

The meeting’s focus on social protection policies provides a window for the IMF’s leading economies to support economic recoveries that reduce inequality and contribute to the realization of human rights.

G20 governments should actively support universal social protection systems—which provide support for everyone at critical moments throughout their life—and eschew means-tested systems that base eligibility for support on income, wealth, or other narrow indicators of poverty. Universal programs have been shown to be most effective at reducing poverty and inequality, promoting social cohesion and solidarity, and improving countries’ economic resilience.

Finally, the democratic governments of the G20 — including India — need to do more as a bloc to protect and promote democratic rule. They should adopt joint statements in Delhi that, while reaffirming the benefits for rights of democratic rule, acknowledge that democratic institutions around the world are increasingly under threat. G20 democracies should recommit to the underlying core aims of democratic systems: the rights and liberties of their citizens.

In its World Report 2023, Human Rights Watch highlighted major rights concerns in India, the U.S., Japan, France, and other democratic G20 countries. We called on these governments to better address racism, race or caste-based supremacy, xenophobia, and other entrenched barriers to equality. 

At bilateral and multilateral meetings in Delhi, democratic governments should hold open discussions about the need to promote and protect tolerance and pluralism, allow criticism and dissent, and recognize differences in thought, religion, and opinion.

Openly discussing human rights applies also to the host, India. Respect for civil and political rights has markedly deteriorated under the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP)-led government, especially for groups facing persecution due to their caste, religion, ethnicity, or political belief, and for civil society advocates, journalists, and human rights defenders critical of the government. 

In meetings with Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi, the presidents and prime ministers of democratic governments should directly raise concerns about this worsening trajectory. They should publicly urge Modi to condemn communal violence, particularly targeting Muslim, Christian, and other religious minority communities.

They should also urge the government to end its crackdowns on civil society groups and politically motivated prosecutions and raids on human rights activists and critics, and stop the pervasive use of overbroad and indiscriminate internet shutdowns. 

Modi should not simply bristle but instead commit to reform, and can urge other G20 members to address their own shortcomings. 

Democratic governments — and India as the G20 host — cannot speak effectively on international issues or on problems in undemocratic G20 countries like Russia, Saudi Arabia, and China, unless they honestly speak about their own problems.

The post Believe It or Not, the G20 Agrees on (Some) Human Rights Issues  appeared first on Foreign Policy In Focus.

President Joe Biden’s administration has taken a cruel weapon—the cluster bomb—off the shelf and sent it to Ukraine to be used in the war against Russia.

Prior to being transferred to Ukraine, cluster bombs made in the United States were used by Saudi Arabia as recently as last year to devastating effect in its war in Yemen. The weapons pose such an extraordinary danger to civilians that—although the U.S. is among a minority of countries that refuses to sign the Convention on Cluster Munitions banning them, and retains such weapons in its arsenal—they have largely been gathering dust because their use and sale are so controversial on the world stage. The White House’s decision to transfer the bombs to Ukraine both escalates the already horrific war and legitimizes a weapon that has no place in our world.

Cluster bombs are large bombs that contain dozens or even hundreds of smaller bombs, or “bomblets.” Cluster bombs are designed to scatter the bomblets over a wide area upon detonation. At a time when the United States and its allies often claim—inaccurately—to carry out precision killing with “surgical strikes,” cluster bombs are imprecise by nature.

But what makes cluster bombs even worse is the fact that, inevitably, not all of the smaller, scattered bombs explode on impact. The bomblets lie on or below the surface of the ground, potentially for years or even decades, waiting to be detonated when touched. They are, in effect, land mines. As Amnesty International’s Brian Castner concludes, “There’s just not a responsible way to use cluster munitions.”

In Laos, where the U.S. dropped cluster bombs extensively as part of its war in Southeast Asia during the 1960s and ’70s, unexploded bomblets continue to litter the land even today. As veteran foreign correspondent Lewis M. Simons—who covered the war in Southeast Asia—wrote in a piece responding to the news of the weapons transfer to Ukraine, “Less than 1% of the dormant bombs have been cleared since the war ended in Laos. About 20,000 civilians been killed during the same period. Even as the numbers gradually decline, thousands continue to be killed, crippled, and disfigured.” He added, “Half the victims are children.”

Well after ceasefires and treaties formally end armed conflicts, cluster bombs continue to threaten civilians in the places where they have been used. In response to the dangers remaining bomblets present to civilians, more than 120 countries have signed the 2008 Convention on Cluster Munitions.

This means that by transferring cluster bombs to Ukraine, the Biden administration is violating an international law that the majority of U.N. member states are party to.

This is ironic given the attention that the White House has rightfully called to Vladimir Putin’s violations of international law in Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. The U.S. move to send cluster bombs to Ukraine indicts the moral position that it has claimed in the war.

How We Got Here

Biden’s decision fits into a long, dark history of the U.S. manufacture, use, and sale of this destructive weapon.

The U.S. has used cluster bombs in large-scale military operations since World War II, including its invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq two decades ago. The bomblets that the U.S. used in those invasions were the same size and color as the packaged meals—humanitarian daily rations, or HDRs—that the U.S. also air-dropped for civilians. Human rights groups warned at the time against using cluster bombs, pointing to a similar problem that occurred when the U.S. used them in the Balkan Wars in the 1990s and children mistook the bomblets for toys—but the Pentagon used them anyway. Between the misleading, friendly appearance of the unexploded bomblets and their widespread scatter upon being dropped, cluster bombs killed, maimed, and threatened the lives of many civilians in Afghanistan and Iraq, provoking condemnation by human rights groups.

Then in 2006, Israel used U.S.-made cluster bombs in its 2006 invasion of Lebanon. In a move that the U.N. described as “immoral,” Israel dropped the overwhelming majority of its bombs—90%—in the last three days of the war as it was retreating, leaving Southern Lebanon littered with mines that have continued to pose a threat to civilians in the years since. This further fueled public sentiment against cluster bombs.

In 2008, the year that the Convention on Cluster Munitions was drafted and opened to signatories, President George W. Bush’s administration issued guidance regarding the Pentagon’s use of the weapon. While the U.S. would maintain cluster bombs in its arsenal, the new directive required that the “dud rate” of the bomblets had to be under 1%.

The directive, on the one hand, was a response to international pressure and domestic unease over the threat that such weapons posed to civilians. On the other hand, it gave cover to cluster bombs by suggesting that the destruction they caused could remain limited to the time and place of battle and target only combatants. But the U.S.’s so-called “precision weapons”—such as “smart bombs” and attack drones—have been shown to cause enormous civilian casualties. The notion that it is possible to develop a cluster bomb—an essentially blunt instrument of warfare—that spares civilians is a total fantasy.

In 2017, however, the U.S. abandoned even this effort that at least hinted at a concern for the problem of civilian harm and a commitment to human rights when Donald Trump’s administration reversed Bush’s 2008 directive. This allowed the use of cluster bombs that had already been made—and were in the U.S. stockpile—that had a dud rate exceeding 1%. The new guidance also removed a deadline for replacing older cluster bombs that had higher dud rates.

Ironically, this coincided with the greatest blow to cluster bombs’ credibility in recent memory, when the U.S. provided them to Saudi Arabia for use in its scorched-earth bombardment of Yemen. Riyadh bombed weddings, destroyed bridges and roads used by Yemeni civilians, and slaughtered dozens of children when it blew up a school bus—using U.S.-made cluster bombs. The atrocities rendered the war unpopular in the U.S., leading to a Congressional vote to end U.S. involvement—which President Trump then vetoed.

The U.S. remains in the minority of countries that refuses to sign the Convention on Cluster Munitions, along with Ukraine and Russia.

Still, the cluster weapons transfer to Ukraine remains controversial. In addition to condemnation by human rights groups like Amnesty International, The New York Times—which has enthusiastically supported sending weapons to Ukraine—editorialized against sending the cluster bombs.

Nevertheless, the Biden administration overrode the warnings of rights advocates and transferred the weapons, which are sure to pose a threat to life well into the future, as they have in other countries.

Thankfully though, that is not where the story ends.

During the widespread condemnation of U.S. support of Saudi Arabia’s war in Yemen at its height in the mid-2010s, anti-war activists in New England organized against Textron, a Rhode Island–based weapons manufacturer that made cluster bombs. The campaign was ultimately successful, and Textron announced in 2016 that it would stop manufacturing the weapon. The many controversies and regulations regarding cluster bombs have led U.S. companies to stop producing them, and Textron was the nation’s last domestic manufacturer. There are currently no cluster bombs being manufactured in the U.S., and, if anti-war activism is strong enough, perhaps there never will be.

Just weeks ago, the U.S. disposed of the last chemical weapons in what had once been an enormous arsenal. Though militarism is on the rise around the world—with Washington being a key driver—the elimination of U.S. chemical weapons is a great milestone in the history of disarmament. The challenge is to build on the success of the chemical weapons moratorium and on the campaign against Textron, and toward the day when we can also assure the elimination of U.S. cluster bombs.

The post Sending Cluster Munitions to Ukraine Is Morally Bankrupt appeared first on Foreign Policy In Focus.

It was a dream team of activists and scholars who conducted a whirlwind advocacy tour of Europe at the end of May. They visited Germany, Belgium, and the UK to challenge the conventional notion that Europe’s energy transition is “clean” and to tell stories about the impact of Europe’s transition on people living in “sacrifice zones” in the Global South. Toward that end, they met with European Parliament members, NGO and social movement representatives, and journalists on their four-day tour. They participated in five public events in three cities. And they were part of an unusual art exhibition in London.

Sponsored by the Ecosocial and Intercultural Pact of the South and the Global Just Transition project of the Institute for Policy Studies, this advocacy and lobbying tour was a follow-up from the Manifesto for an Ecosocial Energy Transition from the Peoples of the Global South published earlier this year.

The delegation members, who were all part of the drafting of the manifesto, represented different regions of the Global South. Nigerian activist Nnimmo Bassey heads up the Heart of Mother Earth Foundation, Indian activist-researcher Madhuresh Kumar represents the Global Tapestry of Alternatives, and Fijian international human rights lawyer Kavita Naidu works with the Climate Action Network in Australia, while Brazilian-Spanish activist-scholar Breno Bringel, Venezuelan linguist and ecofeminist Liliana Buitrago, and Argentine sociologist and philosopher Maristella Svampa are all affiliated with the Ecosocial and Intercultural Pact.

The mission of the trip was to inject Global South perspectives into current European policy discussions around energy and environment, with special emphasis on critical minerals, the Carbon Border Adjustment Mechanism, climate debt and the new Loss & Damage Fund, due diligence legislation, and ongoing trade negotiations. The delegates wanted to hear how best to work in solidarity with European allies to advance mutual climate justice goals and to combat a rising tide of far-right sentiment.

The delegation also aimed to publicize the manifesto and elevate its demands within Europe. It explained the Global South critiques of the hegemonic green transition, while also supporting the advocacy of European networks in raising the Global South demands. In this way, the delegation aspired to help reshape the narrative of climate justice in Europe to reflect the perspectives and concrete needs of the Global South.

The primary concern of the delegation was to highlight the problem of “Green colonialism.” The “clean energy” transition in Europe depends on raw materials like lithium and cobalt from the Global South. And the race to reduce carbon emissions has led to the “offshoring” of carbon-heavy industry and agriculture to poorer countries followed by a tax on imports that don’t meet strict EU regulations on carbon content (the Carbon Border Adjustment Mechanism). The Global South, in other words, absorbs carbon from Europe while sending the raw materials that Europe uses to further reduce its own carbon footprint.

The trip coincided with Europe’s ongoing scramble to find alternative sources of energy to substitute for Russian natural gas imports. That has meant not only a return to coal production at home but the securing of new fossil fuel imports from abroad. Europe had banked on using natural gas in its transition from oil and gas to renewable energy. The war has complicated that strategy, forcing Europe to source its gas from the United States and the Gulf region. Meanwhile, Europe is also looking to identify new sources of critical materials to replace those originating in China. This has pushed the EU to secure new partnerships in the Global South and boost mining at home.

The focus of policy discussion at the end of May in Europe, particularly in the European Parliament in Brussels, was indeed on these critical minerals. The MEPs were debating a proposed Critical Raw Materials Act, which aims to make Europe more self-reliant around 34 critical minerals. Some aspects of the Act are commendable—particularly the emphasis on recycling and home-shoring the mining and processing in a way that reduces extractivism in the Global South.

But when combined with provisions in new EU trade agreements to ensure access to critical minerals, the European approach becomes more ominous. The EU’s recently concluded free trade agreement with Chile, for instance, limits the latter’s ability to supply local producers with critical materials like lithium at cheaper prices in order to build up its own clean-energy industries. This becomes an obstacle to the equally-needed energy transition in the Global South.

Reform vs. Transformation

Progressive European parties and NGOs, like their counterparts elsewhere in the world, are arrayed on a spectrum from championing modest reforms at one end to making radical demands at the other.

Many environmental activists are focused on reductions in fossil fuel use as part of an emphasis on reducing overall carbon emissions. So, for instance, we had a conversation with the German special envoy on climate that centered on cutting off the German financing of fossil fuel infrastructure abroad. This is not a straightforward issue given that some governments in the Global South, eager to secure energy resources for economic development, accuse European governments of “colonialism” if they don’t supply this kind of financing (which China is happy to step in and provide). Whether it’s fossil fuel financing or Green financing, the result is often contracts for European (or U.S.) manufacturers—as with the U.S. Ex-Im Bank’s nearly billion dollars of financing for two solar projects in Angola—rather than opportunities for the countries in the Global South to nurture community-based initiatives to generate renewable energy.

Those European policymakers and civil society activists committed to more radical change are calling for an equitable clean energy transition at the global level and not just for the Global North at the expense of the Global South. They are also demanding that the Global North reduce not only carbon emissions but overall energy consumption in the context of paying reparations as part of a longstanding climate debt to the Global South.

Although some spoke of a kind of transformation fatigue in Europe, with citizens unnerved by the multiple transformations needed across the economy, there also seems to be new opportunities for radical change. Neoliberalism, for example, has sustained considerable shocks from a combination of COVID, the obvious and longstanding problems with economic globalization, and the ongoing failure to address climate change.

Two paths lead out of this dying neoliberalism. The first is a renewed emphasis on industrial policy—more conscious state intervention into the economy—but this time with a Green hue. Europe is investing heavily into its Green New Deal, the United States is implementing the closest thing to a Green industrial policy with the Inflation Reduction Act funding, and other countries too are feeling the pressure to come up with their own matching Green industrialism.

The challenge here is twofold. The countries of the Global North believe that they are permitted such Green industrial policies, but countries of the Global South must still adhere to the old neoliberal model (via extraction and free-trade treaties). The second problem is that Green industrialism is committed to the same old approach of high consumption of goods, services, and energy that has brought the world to its current crisis.

The second path heads in nearly the opposite direction: toward post-growth options. These post-growth options were, until recently, on the margins of the debate in Europe. But 20 members of the European Parliament, from five different parties, sponsored a Beyond Growth conference in May that attracted large audiences and considerable media coverage. It was particularly popular among young people and produced a manifesto for an intergenerationally just post-growth European economy. “The popularity of this event meant that mainstream politicians had to take post-growth seriously,” one interviewee said.

The tension between the ameliorative and the more transformative can be seen in something as concrete as…concrete. The current process of making concrete, cement, and other industrial materials is heavily dependent on fossil fuels. On the ameliorative side, industries are looking into carbon capture technologies or using other energy sources, such as hydrogen, for processes that require high temperatures and switching to electricity for lower temperature processes. They’re also looking into recycling, such as “secondary steel.”

On the more transformative side, there is talk of the circular economy, of using less concrete, fertilizer, and so on. “But it’s harder to push this,” said another interviewee. “It’s not as sexy.”

Inside vs. Outside Strategies

In some countries, climate policies are not high on the national agenda or there are few opportunities for civil society to have a say in government.

In Europe, however, climate is very much at the center of policymaking. According to one interviewee, 70 percent of laws debated in the European parliament cover climate, environment, or energy. And European civil society have multiple opportunities to engage with policymaking at the national and regional levels.

This inside game, however, can be frustrating, given the slowness of the process, the often-narrow field of operations, and the power of the corporate sector. After our delegates presented to the Left Party delegates at their plenary session in the European Parliament, for instance, the MEPs were hustled out of the assembly hall to prepare the room for the next event: a luncheon sponsored by the cruise ship industry, a notorious consumer of fossil fuels.

The inside-outside dynamic does not entirely map onto the reform-transformation dichotomy. The event on post-growth alternatives, for instance, was an initiative of parties in the European Parliament. Moreover, the MEPs are addressing climate justice through a number of initiatives on supply chain due diligence—on conflict minerals, deforestation, and corporate conduct on human rights and environment.

The European Commission, effectively the European Union’s executive body, is currently controlled by center-right parties because they received the largest vote share in the last elections. There are no Left or Green Party representatives. But there are also no far-right commissioners.

Energy and environment are currently the focus of European policy, under the combined guidance of President Ursula von der Leyen (Christian Democrats in Germany) and Executive Vice President Frans Timmermans (Labor Party in the Netherlands). But that could shift after the next elections, scheduled for June 2024. Public opinion polls currently suggest that the center-right European People’s Party, the Social Democrats, the liberal Renew Party, and the Greens will all lose seats. The Left would gain some seats, but the biggest winners so far are parties on the far right. As a result, the political center on the Commission is likely to shift to the right.

Such a shift would translate into a change of focus—away from climate and toward “security.” Consequently, the nature of the inside-outside game would change, with less access for environmental groups and considerably less openness to input from progressive Global South voices.

The Global South remains an outside player in European politics. Various countries or blocs can negotiate access or privileged relationships. But the playing field is not level. For some NGOs, the question then is how can the Global South acquire more power in negotiations. This can take the form of cartel-like politics: those countries in the Global South that have critical resources can leverage their near-monopoly in exchange for more money, more access, or a higher status in the global supply chain (as Botswana did with “beneficiation” in the diamond industry). Or it can take the form of leveraging the protection of natural resources, such as the preservation of the Amazon rainforest or leaving the oil beneath the Yasuni National Park in Ecuador.

Partnerships

To build its competitive advantage vis a vis the United States and China, the EU is all about “partnerships.” First among those are trade agreements.

One of the trade agreements currently under discussion is with Mercosur, the South American trade bloc that includes Argentina, Brazil, Paraguay, and Uruguay. The updated agreement has been delayed but Commission President von der Leyen has pledged to conclude negotiations by year’s end. The Commission is reflecting environmental concerns, for instance by proposing a sustainability clause that addresses deforestation in the Amazon. But progressives have still criticized the agreement for not sufficiently addressing environmental issues or the concerns of indigenous communities. European agricultural lobbies have also been lukewarm about the agreement.

But there is pressure on MEPs to get behind FTAs like the one with Mercosur. “If we don’t say yes to FTAs, we won’t have partnerships – and China will take it up,” one MEP told us.

Other MEPs see the negotiations as an opportunity. “The Mercosur agreement was originally negotiated in the 1990s, so it’s not up to the standards of current trade agreements,” another MEP said. “So, this gives us an opportunity to talk about the Global South, about deforestation, environmental destruction, and the rights of minorities, indigenous communities, and landless farmers. It allows us to ask the question: what kind of trade is fit for the twenty-first century?”

This, too, is the approach of Mia Mottley’s Bridgetown Initiative. Though the first version focused on financing, the 2.0 version of the framework presented by Barbadian Prime Minister Mottley in April also identifies trade as one of six key action areas: “Create an international trade system that supports global green and just transformations.” The Global South, in its negotiations with European partners, can lead the way in defining what such an international trade system looks like.

The flip side of this more equitable trade system is one dominated by corporations. There is considerable concern among European NGOs that the Energy Charter Treaty, which gives investors the right to sue governments over policies that adversely affect their investments, is making headway in the Global South even as European governments announce their withdrawal from the treaty and begin to remove corporate-friendly provisions, like Investor-State Dispute Settlement clauses, from trade treaties.

The EU, along with the United States and several European governments, is also exploring what it calls “just energy transition partnerships” (JETP) with key countries like South Africa and Indonesia. These partnerships, focused on decarbonization, are a kind of Green structural adjustment program that pushes for reform of the economies of the target countries. But these JETPs differ from country to country and offer a possible opportunity for civil society in the Global South to critique Green colonialism and offer alternatives.

One mechanism gaining ground in recent years are debt-for-climate swaps. For countries in the Global South struggling with unsustainable debt repayments, the idea of reducing the burden through the protection of nature or the implementation of adaptation policies will be attractive. International financial institutions are quite bullish on these swaps. But most analyses suggest that they won’t substantially reduce either global carbon emissions or the debt burden of heavily indebted countries.

Another form of partnership is with local communities. Given the frequently undemocratic and corrupt nature of national governments in the Global South, the EU is exploring more direct relationships with affected communities. On the one hand, these partnerships would increase transparency through greater consultation with local communities (for instance in the formulation of trade agreements). On the other hand, funds for loss and damage could be channeled directly to most-impacted areas rather than to national governments, and grassroots movements could be part of the process of identifying and quantifying the damage as well as encouraging local, bottom-up approaches.

The influx of money at the local level, however, could serve to divide communities. Moreover, these “partnerships” with local communities rarely encourage sufficient public consultation. The absence of prior and informed consent from communities in the new “sacrifice zones” in the Global South means that resource extraction takes precedence over democratic decision-making.

Follow-up

The moment is right for Global South activists to influence European policy and the agenda of European civil society. The EU is considering far-reaching climate, environment, and energy policies, and the current leadership is eager to push through as much of its platform as possible before new leaders assume power after the elections next June. European civil society, meanwhile, has been reaching out for partnerships in the Global South around specific campaigns (supply chains, loss & damage, trade, critical raw materials).

Progressive MEPs asked us to supply texts and videos of Global South activists opposing the Mercosur agreement as it is currently proposed. They wanted to hear about opposition to fossil fuel infrastructure but also to the extraction of critical minerals.

They also wanted to hear about how they could collaborate on preventing Amazon deforestation. Indeed, Europeans who have difficulty locating Peru or Ecuador on the map nevertheless identify with the Amazon. In this way, the Amazon could be the “polar bear” for the nature preservation movement: a highly visible and popular icon. MEPs who otherwise have difficulty persuading voters of the importance of the Global South can “sell” the Amazon as the anchor for a climate justice platform that prioritizes the rights of nature.

NGOs in Brussels emphasized that there was an opportunity for Global South activists and their European partners to advocate for positions through commission consultations and through the legislative process via amendments. Right now, for instance, the new Critical Raw Materials coalition is organizing a letter from Global South organizations to communicate to the European Union the specific environmental, labor, and other concerns related to the extraction of lithium, cobalt, and other strategic minerals.

The Carbon Border Adjustment Mechanism has passed. It will hit the Global South with a double whammy. Exporting countries dependent on European markets—like Senegal’s fertilizer producers—will suddenly find that their carbon-heavy products are no longer competitive. And the money raised by the border tax will go to help European industries—not industries in the Global South—to reduce their carbon footprint.

The CBAM now enters a stage of impact assessment. This is where Global South actors could push for technology transfer to help industries “clean up” their facilities to maintain access to European markets.

There was interest in research partnerships between Europe and the Global South, for instance on the question of loss & damage and the role of grassroots organizations in ensuring fair and just compensation. Equally important will be the expansion of focus to include not just natural disasters but the clean-up of old mines, extractivist infrastructure, and even large-scale “clean energy” projects.

Future follow-up might include another delegation to Europe (perhaps to southern Europe) and to countries like India. The art event in London was an exciting new way of spreading the Manifesto, and the delegation organizers are hard at work turning the Manifesto into a short music video. Plans are underway to explore the Manifesto’s implications in various sectors, like labor and the women’s movement. And the newly popular discussion on post-growth alternatives in Europe could also prove to be a way to expand the conversation of decarbonization to include biodiversity loss, the impact of climate debt and other forms of debt, and other aspects of the polycrisis affecting the planet.

The post Challenging the Global North’s “Clean Energy” Transition appeared first on Foreign Policy In Focus.

Hard security–the sort of security that involves military force–is not a subject that gets discussed often in left or progressive spaces. In fact, the very concept of security itself is sometimes viewed with suspicion as an “unhelpful framing” that is intrinsically more favorable territory for the right.

This is not without good reason. Like the rest of the generation that grew up in the shadow of the Iraq war, I’m used to “security” being used as a catch-all justification for all manner of foreign military adventures or threats against civil liberties. This applies even in non-military matters. The frame of energy security, for example, is often used to justify delaying the green transition and “keeping the lights on” by all means possible, usually fossil-fuel heavy. This situation has led some progressives to avoid discussing “energy security” at all and instead refer to “energy sovereignty” or “energy democracy.”

Where progressives do talk about security, it is usually to broaden the concept to include what is commonly called “soft security.” Indeed, environmental degradation, climate change, poverty, and ill health are as much, if not more, of a threat to human well-being than military or terrorist threats.

Yet this one-sided approach has led to a situation where progressive voices are weak or absent in spaces where hard security is discussed. Questions around defense, the armed forces, and security are left to generals, conservatives, and the establishment. Participants at elite fora discussing these issues are more likely to encounter progressives outside protesting than in the room.

But from my own country of Georgia (invaded by Russia in 2008), from Ukraine, and from Russia’s entire post-colonial periphery, this situation is untenable. And that means that the Western left, to be a truly international movement, must tackle the issue of hard security head on.

Not the Time to Negotiate with Russian Imperialism

The fiction that the imperial dreams of far-right authoritarians like Putin can be managed solely through diplomacy is no longer tenable. This presents a problem that is especially acute for progressives, whose the impulse, post-Iraq war, has been to push for compromise, negotiations, and diplomatic solutions alone, on the assumption that these should be sufficient.

The problem for advocates of this stance is that, for Russia, international agreements, negotiations, and treaties are near meaningless. Since the breakup of the Soviet Union, Russia’s modus operandi has been to change facts on the ground by military force, tearing up or simply ignoring any agreement or treaty that gets in the way.

Most famously, Russia violated the 1994 Budapest Memorandum in which it promised to “guarantee” Ukraine’s territorial integrity and sovereignty in exchange for the latter relinquishing nuclear weapons. But other examples demonstrate that this is the rule and not the exception with Russia. The 2008 Sarkozy-Medvedev agreement that ended the Russia-Georgia war required Russian troops to return to their pre-war positions. They never did so, and Russia faced few if any consequences for this. The 2014 Minsk protocol required that Russia “withdraw illegal armed groups and military equipment as well as fighters and mercenaries from the territory of Ukraine.” It didn’t happen.

This attitude also applies to non-military matters. In 2012, Russia secured membership in the World Trade Organization by agreeing to allow Swiss customs agents to monitor trade traffic at the borders of territories it illegally occupies in Georgia. It never did this either, again with zero consequences.

Nor can all this be explained by Russia’s perception that the West promised not to expand NATO “one inch” eastward. That phrase was uttered as part of a hypothetical question during an exploratory meeting over German reunification, not contained in a formal agreement. And it was obviated by a subsequent course of negotiation in which Moscow accepted that east German territory would, after unification, be protected by NATO’s Article 5.

Russia doesn’t even respect treaties signed with its allies. In 2020, when Azerbaijani forces bombarded and threatened territory internationally recognised as Armenia in the wake of the 2020 Nagorno-Karabakh war, Russia was obliged to help defend Armenia as a member of the Collective Security Treaty Organization. It did not, instead pursuing closer relations with Azerbaijan.

Russia respects neither international law nor the agreements it signs. It does not respect its neighbors’ right to exist as sovereign, independent states. Russia is the world’s foremost land empire in the classical sense, one that seeks “national greatness” through territorial expansion rather than the more diffuse forms of power that characterize U.S. global influence.

When faced with such a foe, the standard progressive prescriptions don’t cut it. Attempts by progressive or Marxist analysts to explain Russia’s actions purely through the prism of elite class interests, while interesting as attempts to introduce that dimension to the conversation, fall short by ignoring the extent to which Putin’s regime–and, unfortunately, mainstream Russian political culture as a whole–is motivated by non-economic goals. Putin seeks to rebuild the Russian Empire not because Russian oligarchs really require control over the coal mines of Donbas but because he believes in a sort of manifest destiny for Russia as the center of a greater “Russian World.” It is a worldview that has no room for a concept of independent Ukrainian identity and sees non-Slavic nations such as the Georgians in borderline racist, or at least paternalistic, terms as uppity southerners who require the civilizing hand of Moscow.

This means, if countries like Ukraine indeed have the right to survive as independent nations, that progressiveshave to address traditional hard security. This means casting aside the traumas induced by theIraq and Vietnam wars and switching to “Spanish Civil War mode,” drawing on progressive traditions that take seriously the imperative of military force in the face of far-right threats.

In doing this, progressives must also discard the lazy, incoherent mashup of neorealism and Cold War anti-imperialism–ironically popular both among progressives and the ultra-conservative right–that casts Ukraine and other countries in the region as mere pawns in a geopolitical “great game” between the West and Russia. In this fevered fantasy, NATO seeks to “encircle” Russia, which has every reason to fear for its safety. By this token, any action taken to arm Ukraine, Georgia, Moldova, or any other country on Russia’s border is an act of provocation, enlisting Russia’s neighbors as a proxy force against it. But the reality is that none of these nations would ever contemplate initiating a conflict with their much-larger neighbor.

A bizarre coalition of anti-imperialists and Kissinger-school realists keep telling us to treat Russia with understanding, recognize its “security concerns” as legitimate, and grant Russia more control of its “near abroad.”.

The Establishment-Progressive Consensus

Many progressives would be surprised at how similar the discourse within “establishment” circles before the Ukraine war, especially in Europe, resembled those within progressive spaces on the subject of how to deal with Russia. And conversely, how different it was to the aggressively expansionist stereotype.

Consider the record of U.S. policy. After Russia invaded Ukraine in 2014 and annexed Crimea, the Obama administration provided only non-lethal assistance to Kyiv. Even an anti-battery radar was modified so that it could not detect artillery fire coming from Russian territory, and Russia was alerted to this in advance. Only in 2018 did the first Javelin anti-tank missiles find their way to Kyiv, a measure that might help blunt a Russian assault but was plainly insufficient to stop it, let alone provide offensive capacity. And Ukraine was forbidden from actually using the Javelins in the then-ongoing conflict in the Donbas. The November 2021 Charter on Strategic Partnership promised nothing in the way of arms transfers (offering only training) and supported only a diplomatic solution to the Crimean issue. Georgia got even less.

The Western establishment, far from flooding Russia’s pro-Western neighbors with support and encouragement to stand up to the Kremlin, has largely left these countries at the mercy of Russia for fear of “provoking the bear.” The West, prioritized relations with the imperial center in Moscow over ties with its fearful former colonies.

This is the philosophy that gave us George Bush Sr.’s “Chicken Kiev speech,” which aimed to keep a reformed USSR intact to ensure “stability.” Later, George W, Bush’s openly embraced Vladimir Putin in the face of mass atrocities in Chechnya. Overall, the West responded minimally after Russia invaded Georgia in 2008 and Ukraine in 2014, and started bombing Syria in 2015.

The major westward shifts in countries of the region largely occurred as a result of popular revolutionary uprisings from below, not as a result of Western machinations or elite political consensus (though pro-Western elites did play a role). The infamous “color revolutions,” such as those in Serbia (2000), Georgia (2003), Ukraine (2004), Kyrgyzstan (2005), Armenia (2018), and Ukraine’s Euromaidan protests in 2014, may have been supported rhetorically and in a minor way financially through pro-democracy NGOs financed by Western grant-making organizations, but they reflected genuine and strong desires among the populations of these countries to pursue full decolonization from Russia and democratization. It is those desires that pulled the West into the region in “competition” with Russia, and not the converse.

Georgia’s repeated attempts to procure the sorts of weapons that would prove helpful in the event of another Russian invasion–such as anti-tank and air defense capabilities–fell on deaf ears in Washington DC–so much so that the then-Georgian-president was forced to deny that there was an unofficial ban on the sale of weapons to Georgia (though military aid resumed in 2012). The reason for the West’s reticence had nothing to do with human rights. These are countries that regularly sell billions of dollars of high-tech equipment to despotic Gulf regimes currently engaged in an ethically dubious military adventure in Yemen.

Rather, by refusing to provide Russia’s democratic neighbors with the means to defend themselves, the United States was implicitly accepting that such arms sales would be “provocative” to Russia. In fact, NATO, far from acting as the aggressive juggernaut of popular Western leftist fantasy, had de facto refused membership to Ukraine. The 2008 Bucharest Summit resolved that Ukraine and Georgia would one day “be members of NATO,” but it was a purely rhetorical sop to the Bush administration from France and Germany, which  were determined to keep Ukraine out. As John Mearsheimer, no less, admitted in 2015, “NATO expansion is dead.”

Towards a Progressive Conception of Hard Security

Although the Western security establishment has, too slowly, set about providing Ukraine at least some of the arms and training it needs, progressives seemed confused and divided. Some grudgingly accept the need for arms but qualify that they must only be “defensive” or not “advanced,”terms with nebulous military meaning. Others oppose arms entirely.

This has several root causes. First, there is the ghost of influence from sections of the left that consider it their duty, for reasons that are vague and muddled, to support the enemies of the West. This minority is tiny, but vocal.

Second, and more importantly, there is the kneejerk impulse to resist the policies of the West shaped by the disgraceful wars in Vietnam and Iraq. Progressives are wary to be on the same side of a major international issueas those who backed those two disasters.

Third, there is the influence of the pacifist strain in progressive thinking. Pacifists find the very ideas of weaponry and armaments, let alone using them, viscerally distasteful, and overwhelming.

None of these sentiments is important compared to the objective reality that Ukraine, Georgia, and Taiwan face. If the argument for avoiding detailed discussion of how to support the armed resistance to Russian colonial domination boils down to “people we don’t like also support Ukraine” then that argument is as good as lost. The viability of countries rests on physical security, which means, in part, on military capacity. Russia’s 2008 invasion cast a shadow over Georgian politics that has not lifted and made the task of progressives here much harder. Rather than pushing for positive change, Georgian progressives have to fend off Russia-influenced bids to restrict civil freedoms. It is a risible expression of privilege for those who live already in security and comfort to forget those challenges.

Building a progressive position on hard security requires, first, to outflank the establishment on granting Ukraine the military support it needs not only to halt but reverse Russia’s territorial advances.  Military supplies have always been several months behind and left Ukrainian forces in the lurch. British MP Clive Lewis, a member of the Socialist Campaign Group, has given an example of this approach. A frozen conflict may suit cynical realists in the West, but it does not suit Ukraine. In such cases, progressives must stand unequivocally with Ukraine, whether that suits the West or not. Progressives must also support granting similar military support and security guarantees to other countries at risk of Russian imperial warmongering–namely Georgia and Moldova. This approach also applies to economic policy and issues of “soft security.” Where neoliberals promote the interests of oligarchic capital over the security of the Ukrainian people, progressives can be the loudest voices of dissent.

Second, progressives need to think deeply about what circumstances warrant the provision of military support, or even military intervention. The abuse of the concept of humanitarian intervention by neoconservatives has led to an overcorrection by progressives in the direction of non-intervention. For every Iraq or Vietnam, there are cases like the Rwandan genocide, where the lack of intervention cost a million lives or the war in Bosnia where Western intervention indisputably halted a genocide. The question of whether to intervene, either by provision of weapons or boots on the ground, is not a simple one with one-size-fits-all answers, or even one that fits into a tidy left-right debate. A principled stance would support genuine democratic struggles against truly genocidal or fascist forces, while rejecting dubious, open-ended arguments for regime change.

Third, progressives need to distinguish themselves from both the establishment and the knee-jerk anti-Western elements by elaborating a vision of progressive overhaul of the defense and security sector. Progressives rightly protest the moral vacuum of the modern arms trade in which multinationals make obscene profits from selling weaponry to despots. But in cases where it’s necessaryto defend the forces of progress and democracy against those very despots, an alternative system is clearly necessary, albeit with more stringent anti-corruption and human rights criteria. Perhaps, more radically, there is room for debate about deeper changes to the structure of ownership and control within the industry as well a reduction in the influence that industry has over foreign policy think tanks.

Finally, concepts of “soft security” and “hard security” need to be integrated into a progressive vision for security as a whole. Democratic security should emphasize the interdependence between hard and soft security and sustain a society that is not only democratic and egalitarian but also more resilient to external attack. A society more at ease in its external security is more likely to pursue more democratic and progressive societal goals. Hence, progressives can argue that environmental justice, economic justice, and equality are security issues, but also that the security sector must be made to serve the interests of society.

Progressives can also sound the alarm when, as is too often the case, security policy is directed toward protecting the interests of elites or serving the security industry itself rather than protecting society. Progressives can confidently argue that the post-9/11 security establishment spent far too much time and money fighting vague and largely-exaggerated threats such as “international terrorism” and “illegal” migration instead of protecting innocent people from forces that would seek to harm them.

This is just the start of an urgently needed conversation. Ukrainian (and many other) lives depend on it. If progressives allow the forces of reaction to dominate the discourse on defense and security, the world will pay a heavy price.

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I finally got what director Greta Gerwig was up to in her movie Barbie that features Margot Robbie as the adult doll Barbie. She’s out to give a lesson in Marxism, the candy-coated kind that she thinks is palatable to Gen Z. At one level, Barbie is a film targeted at the coming-of-age demographic, works out their “existential crises,” and resolves this with a stereotypical Hollywood ending. But there’s another, deeper level, and this is aimed at Gen Z’s subconscious. For the most part, the two levels proceed in a congenial, parallel fashion, until the end—but let’s leave that for later.

To fully appreciate what Gerwig is trying to do, you have to use a companion text, Marx’s Theses on Feuerbach, the seminal text where Marx critiqued the thought of the philosopher Ludwig Feuerbach who had weaned him away from G.W. Hegel’s idealism, which saw empirical reality as a pale reflection of the “Spirit,” a philosophical tradition that goes way, way back to Plato.

Let’s start with Thesis Four. Marx wrote:

Feuerbach starts out from the fact of religious self-alienation, of the duplication of the world into a religious world and a secular one. His work consists in resolving the religious world into tis secular basis. But that secular basis detaches itself from itself and establishes itself as an independent realm in the clouds can only be explained by the cleavages and self-contradictions within this secular basis. The latter must, therefore, in itself be both understood in contradiction and revolutionized in practice.

Barbieland is the religious world that Marx talks about, the “independent realm in the clouds” where all the contradictions that exist in reality magically vanish. It is the human subject’s projection of the real world that leaves the conflicts, contradictions, and crises of the latter behind.

Let’s move on to Thesis Eight, where Marx asserts, “All social life is essentially practical. All mysteries which lead theory to mysticism find their rational solution in human practice and in the comprehension of this practice.”

Even though it’s an ideal world, Barbieland is not seamlessly constructed. There’s a crack in Barbie’s world—she wakes up and finds out she has cellulite and flat feet—and she is forced to come down to earth to be “fixed” and discovers that the world is full of contradictions and conflicts that the elite, the black-suited directors of Mattel, don’t want people to grapple with and solve collectively by focusing their attention instead on the ideal relationships of Barbieland. Barbie’s unexpected appearance threatens the long-standing equilibrium between the ideal and the real.

In Thesis Eleven, Marx’s most quoted text, he says, “The philosophers have only interpreted the world, in various ways. The point is to change it.”

Barbie’s trip to the real world enlightens her, and she returns to the ideal world in order to fix the world of ideas to reflect the real world. She stages in Barbieland the equivalent of the Protestant Reformation. She wins, but she’s no longer interested in just being Martin Luther, in simply winning the theological battle. She decides to return to the real world to change it. She wants to be Martin Luther King.

This is where the two levels of the movie come into conflict. The movie ends with Barbie returning to earth to see a gynecologist. Huh? There’s something wrong here. But it’s not Barbie. It’s Greta. This is, after all, still Hollywood, and Gerwig can’t resist the temptation of a Hollywood ending that will rake in all those dollars—and beat Oppenheimer at the box office as well. But by this time Gen Z doesn’t need Gerwig to follow Barbie to the logical conclusion of her political development. They actually know she will use the visit to the ob-gyn as a decoy, leave by a side-door, walk over to the HQ of Mattel, the capitalist behemoth that created Barbie and her ideal world, her jaw clenched to convey her determination to carry out her mission as she disappears in a slow fade-out.

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Ever since coming to power, Vladimir Putin has focused on using Russia’s assets for the good of himself and his plutocracy. He has justified this effort with the narrative that he is protecting Russia’s historical role as a regional power from a threat from the West. This has involved increasing repression at home and support of autocracy globally.

It has also included steadily increasing regional military operations, starting with an invasion of Georgia in 2008, support of breakaway provinces in Moldova, annexation of the Crimea, and promotion of Russian insurrection in the Donbas. The invasion of Ukraine is only the latest event in this growing challenge to global stability. Not since Hitler has one man so thoroughly controlled a major country and subordinated it to his own objectives.

The origin of this challenge lies in the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991 and a very premature expectation of the “end of history,” which Francis Fukuyama described as “the universalization of Western liberal democracy as the final form of human government.” This was immediately followed by a monumental and almost unrecognized strategic blunder: the failure to integrate Russia into the Industrialized World as had been done after World War II with Germany and Japan. With the 1991 collapse of the Soviet Union came the disappearance of the basic rationale for NATO as a military alliance. But instead of a draw-down and despite earlier informal assurances, NATO initiated a totally unnecessary expansion, minimizing economic development in East Europe.

The Russian people had vague but optimistic hopes that the end of the Cold War would lead to a new era of peace and prosperity. But, as Bob Kuttner and Walter Shapiro have detailed, US and NATO governments stood by as former elites used Soviet practices and contacts to set up the Mafia-like structures, with corrupt practices facilitated by Western encouragement of privatization. When Vladimir Putin took charge at the end of the 1990s, he led the nation in an increasingly autocratic direction. NATO’s expansion posed no threat to Russia, but Putin used it to reinforce his claim that he was protecting Russia’s imperial legacy.

The West had initially hoped that it could develop positive relations with Putin’s regime. But these hopes steadily faded as his autocracy intensified and were totally crushed by the invasion of Ukraine. This brought a drastic reduction of economic ties between Russia and the West, breaking West Europe’s prior dependence on Russian energy. Sanctions pushed hundreds of Western firms to end or significantly curtail their operations with Russia. Most recently, Russia has intensified efforts to take control of remaining Western commercial assets, partly to provide continuing income to Putin’s plutocracy.

The war forced a focus on military operations, a general objective of ensuring that Ukraine wins and Russia loses. This, or course, only reinforces Putin’s claim of a threat from the West and energizes the global military industrial complex. And a stalemate on the ground promises only continuing death and destruction with no end in sight. Even within Western governments, there is increasing pressure to seek some kind of resolution. The broader international community has further increased pressure for some kind of ceasefire, at least a temporary end to the military confrontation that is impacting the global food supply.

A fundamental problem is the lack of a clear objective for the West. Putin’s challenge has transitioned from disruption in Europe to a challenge to global stability. But Western governments are reluctant to set his removal as a fundamental objective, to acknowledge that real peace is not possible without a change in the Russian government. Western sanctions have significantly impacted the Russian economy but were also put in place without specific objectives. The Russian opposition has put together a broad Declaration of Russian Democratic Forces, which outlines democratic principles but contains no specific vision of what sort of Russia should emerge or how it would integrate with the West. The thought of doing what we should have done 30 years ago, integrating Russia into the industrialized world, has long disappeared. Yet it remains the key to a peaceful and prosperous Europe.

The fundamental quest is not for territory in Ukraine, but for Ukraine’s territorial integrity as well as regional global stability. The West also has to set an objective of promoting the emergence of a progressive Russian government. The central battlefield is the minds of the Russian people. The West is losing that battle as it has totally failed to undermine Putin’s talk of a threat from the West, strongly based on Russian cultural traditions. The recent NATO discussions in Vilnius emphasized the need for military cooperation against Russia but gave zero attention to the long-term challenge of integrating Russia back into Europe. However, it would be challenging to say the least to integrate Russia as it is currently governed.

The West needs to take a number of actions making outreach to Russia a priority as well as incentivizing its turn back toward the West and away from colonizing territories on its periphery. First of all, the West has to vividly demonstrate how Putin’s medieval concept, now incorporated into standard history books, is simply a cover for widespread misappropriation of Russia’s assets for his own personal use and that of his plutocracy. This concept needs to be challenged with a vision of a New Europe incorporating a dynamic and democratic Russia. Such a vision has to be created by Russians but build on fundamental human values, describing a New Europe attractive to the international community and emphasizing the benefits to the Russian people.

The West has a significant interest in positive relations with a dynamic and developing Russia once sanctions can be lifted. Former economic ties could be reinvigorated with mutually beneficial results, including energy systems, resource trade, tourism, space and educational exchanges. Western economic, scholastic, and scientific organizations that were formerly active in Russia should be encouraged to renew discussions with Russian colleagues on the resumption of collaboration. These discussions should encourage Russian bureaucrats to consider opportunities for economic development, with the West supporting the expansion of Russian infrastructure, particularly in the area of clean energy.

Rebuilding the Ukrainian economy can provide a vivid example to Russians of what would be possible with a new Russian government. This could certainly be facilitated by a ceasefire which would dramatically minimize current casualties and destruction. The West would have to promote this not as freezing Putin’s territorial gains in place, but rather as shifting the confrontation from the military to the diplomatic and economic terrain.

The Russian diaspora can play a critical role in promoting the emergence of a new Russian government. Recent refugees from Putin’s repression are anxious to return to a new Russia and can strongly promote a vision of a New Europe in collaboration with long-term diaspora in the Baltic states, Finland, and elsewhere.

The central Western objective has to recognize that real peace is not possible without a new Russian government. As Max Bergmann has outlined in detail, the West needs to focus on achieving a democratic and prosperous world with a new and democratic Russia actively integrated in the industrialized world, as should have happened 30 years ago. Offering the Russian people a path out of their economic and diplomatic isolation is an essential element of such a transition.

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The Norra Karr deposit of rare earth elements (REE) is situated in the southern part of Sweden, on the picturesque shores of Lake Vattern, one of the largest lakes on the Scandinavian Peninsula. The lake is surrounded by a unique mountain landscape, some of which is protected by the European Union’s Natura 2000 program. Vast reserves of fresh water coexist here with equally immense reserves of rare earth elements, which are now deemed critical for the transition to renewable energy.

According to local resident and activist Carina Gustafsson, Lake Vattern provides drinking water to 500,000 households. Approximately 260 farms and homes located within a two-kilometer radius of the proposed mine are dependent on the lake’s water supply, as well as a rich biodiverse landscape around the lake.

This 110-million-ton mineral deposit is estimated to contain approximately half a million tons of REE comprising both heavy and light elements found in eudialyte and catapleiite minerals embedded in granite. The deposit, located on the edge of a tectonic plate, is a very complex deposit containing more than 80 different minerals, which renders open-pit extraction problematic, according to Gustafsson. Yet, Greena Mineral AB, a Swedish subsidiary of Canadian Leading Materials Ltd., has specified “conventional open-pit drill and blast” as the primary method for extraction.

The development of such a deposit situated 1.5 kilometers from the lake’s shoreline and up to 120 meters above its level, Gustafsson says, poses a threat to the unique Natura 2000 protected ecosystems. Because it takes 60 years for the lake’s water to be completely replaced due to slow water exchange, extraction of the minerals may lead to irreversible pollution of the lake. She asserts that this deposit, along with others of a similar nature, contains earth metals in immediate proximity to toxic radionuclides such as uranium and thorium, as well as lead and asbestiform minerals. She fears that these toxic elements won’t be removed but rather left in the waste to be stored onsite.

The development of this deposit began to be discussed in 2009. However, because of the actions of the local government, activists, and organizations, as well as procedures under Swedish law, it was halted. Activists fear that the forgotten plans may resurface soon enough, under the guise of concern for climate and sustainability. They worry that this can lead to the wrecking of freshwater sources and local biodiversity, which are critically vulnerable in the face of global warming. Leading Materials Ltd. has already announced its intention to obtain a mining license after accomplishing the Natura 2000 Protected Area Impact Study.

Consequences of Open-Pit REE Mining

Recent Life Cycle Assessments showed that REE mining is still associated with large quantities of chemicals needed for processing and large amounts of tailings containing toxic radionuclides Th-232 and U-238 and their decay products. These radioactive elements can enter the environment through air, wastewater, and rain leaching. According to a recent report by Northern Confluence, mining is already a major source of environmental harm in British Columbia, causing water pollution and impacts to sensitive species, while insufficient reclamation, poor waste management, and risks of dam failures worsen the environmental liabilities.

The infamous case of rare earth mining in Bayan’obo, Inner Mongolia, China, has raised a debate about how the environmental risks of rare earth mining measure up against their environmental and climate benefits. The main concern here is not only the harm from local pollution with chemicals, radionuclides, and heavy metals, but also the destruction of vulnerable ecosystems and cultural and historical heritage, as well as habitats for local residents and indigenous peoples. According to journalist Claire Asher, this is the result of open-pit mining, which is most typical for rare earth metals.

EU Critical Raw Materials Act

The transition to renewables has raised legitimate concerns regarding the environmental impact of “front-end” processes like mining. This issue is especially pronounced in countries where mining has historically been established, such as the United States and Sweden. In the United States, mineral exploration is governed by the Mining Law of 1872, which Deputy Assistant Secretary for Land and Minerals Management Steve Feldgus has criticized as “inadequate” and an obstacle to environmentally and socially responsible domestic mining. Similarly, Sweden, as one of the EU’s leading producers of ores and metals, operates under the Minerals Act, which has faced criticism for its perceived inadequacy in protecting the rights of the indigenous Sami people.

However, Sweden has implemented significant environmental legislation, including the Environmental Code, which mandates an environmental impact assessment procedure for mineral exploration projects. This legislation played a pivotal role in halting an earlier REE mining project at the Norra Karr mineral deposit near Lake Vattern.

According to Carina Gustafsson, the company abandoned its extraction plans in 2016 due to its inability to prepare an appropriate Environmental Impact Statement (EIS). In February 2016, the Swedish High Administrative Court revoked the company’s mining concession following an appeal from her organization and others. The company was ordered to submit a comprehensive EIS addressing all environmental impacts, including those on Natura 2000 protected areas. However, the county administrative boards, city councils, and several other stakeholders rejected the company’s slightly updated EIS as insufficient and incomplete. The Swedish Mining Inspectorate then demanded that the EIS be completed, but apparently this had yet to be done.

The situation is expected to change if the new EU Critical Raw Materials Act (EU CRMA) is adopted. Gustafsson is worried that this regulation will open a backdoor for the mining industry, granting easy access to the Norra Karr deposit. This concern arises from the potential simplification of the permitting process in favor of “mining project promoters,” circumventing the existing procedures required by the current national environmental legislation. The proposed legislation states that the extraction of materials from the critical minerals list should be classified as an overriding public interest. “To me, it should definitely be clean freshwater that holds that classification!” says Gustafsson.

Major environmental NGOs, such as Friends of the Earth Europe, consider industrial lobbying the main reason behind the European Commission’s introduction of the new regulation, which facilitates REE mining. According to their July 2023 report, the new CRM Act will allow the industry to self-regulate, a concession to an industry that spends over 21 million euros annually on lobbying.

The motivation behind industrial lobbying stems from industry’s dissatisfaction with current environmental legislation, which diminishes the competitiveness of raw materials mined in the EU, Canada, and the United States compared to those from China and other countries where mining operations are not so strictly regulated. Indeed, Leading Materials Ltd. blames environmental legislation for the denial of their mining permission at Norra Carr. Thus Filip Kozlowski, the company’s CEO, characterized the current legal framework as “prohibitive of efficient permitting processes for mining projects” and that the company will continue to adapt their path “should the legal framework evolve going forward.” Further, the company promised “to go above and beyond compliance in all elements of ESG in order to progress to an EU-based sustainable operating mine.”

The Centre for Research on Multinational Corporations (SOMO) notes that the proposed EU regulation on Critical raw materials is motivated by nothing other than economic reasons. Indeed, the legislation is full of references to price vulnerability and guarantees of economic sustainability that businesses are looking for. But it does not explain why the rare earth mining business can override public interest. According to SOMO, the measures proposed in the Act are a way to turn state institutions into facilitators for industry access to financial resources and mineral deposits by overriding the current key environmental provisions.

Sustainable Way Out

The environmental risks associated with mining rare earth metals create a potentially deadly trade-off: transitioning to renewable energy in order to reduce the burden on the climate and environment requires the extraction of critical minerals that in turn destroys the environment. One way out of this vicious circle would be energy conservation combined with the extraction of rare earth elements from historically accumulated industrial waste and tailings from old mining.

The latter, urban mining, is not yet an established, cost-effective method. The proposed EU act includes measures to encourage urban mining. At the same time, as long as a backdoor exists for industry to access currently inaccessible deposits by undermining existing environmental legislation, traditional mining will go forward. This traditional mining promises quick profits even as it sacrifices the environment in the name of saving the planet.

The mining industry advertises its “climate and environmental concerns.” If open pit mining were environmentally friendly, why would mining companies find environmental regulations so problematic?

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