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Donald Trump declared his Alaska summit with Vladimir Putin a success, despite contrasting evidence suggesting otherwise. On Truth Social, he said a peace agreement over Ukraine, not a mere ceasefire, was the right path, claims he echoed during follow-up talks in Washington with Volodymyr Zelensky and European leaders. “Potentially, millions of people’s lives will be saved,” Trump said. That optimism looks misplaced. For Putin, Ukraine is not merely a bargaining chip but a territory he views as part of a Russian “civilization-state.” When he meets with Western leaders, he is not negotiating over land; he frames the war as a defense of Russian civilization and its values. As a result, Putin cannot easily “make a deal” involving land swaps to end the conflict.  Russia’s civilisational project  In addition to civilisational rhetoric, other factors contribute to Putin’s intransigence. Strategic concerns about NATO, fears for regime security, and the material importance of Crimea and the Black Sea all shape Moscow’s stance. Yet the language of civilisation turns these into matters of identity and survival. It fuses practical interests with existential claims, making retreat even harder. Even if compromises were possible on security or economics, the civilisational frame casts them as betrayals of Russia’s destiny.  Some American policymakers have tended to read Russia as a state with interests that can be traded. However, Putin accounts for Russia not simply as a nation-state, but as a civilization rooted in Orthodoxy, empire, and the memory of Soviet power. Viewed through this prism, Ukraine is not a foreign neighbour, but an inseparable part of Russian history and identity, which must be defended against Western encroachment.  In his 2021 essay On the Historical Unity of Russians and Ukrainians, Putin claimed that Russians and Ukrainians are “one people,” and that Ukraine is “an inalienable part of our own history, culture, and spiritual space.” Whatever his private convictions, the function of this language is clear. It justifies annexation and occupation, and it raises the political cost of retreat by treating territorial issues as matters of civilisational survival.   Putin himself insists that “the West” does not understand that “the Ukraine crisis is not a territorial conflict … and not an attempt to establish regional geopolitical balance.” Instead, he says, it is rooted in “the principles underlying the new international order” he is building. Peace, in this new order, is possible only “when everyone feels safe and secure, understands that their opinions are respected” and when “no one can unilaterally force …others to live or behave as a hegemon pleases even when it contradicts the sovereignty …traditions, or customs of peoples and countries.”    This framing lets the Kremlin portray the West as the aggressor imposing alien norms on unwilling Ukrainians. Russia, by contrast, is said to be fighting for itself on behalf of all nations who wish to see western hegemony end and the birth of a new multipolar world. Moreover, it portrays Ukraine’s status as a civilisational question tied to identity and resistance to Western liberal norms. As a result, only a settlement that Putin present domestically as recognition of Russia’s civilisational standing is acceptable, which complicates compromise beyond what standard diplomatic formulas suggest.  Challenges to Trump’s pursuit of peace  Trump has made no secret of his desire to be remembered as a peacemaker. However, he also admires strong leaders and has shown sympathy for post-liberal arguments that liberal democracy is exhausted. These affinities bring him closer, at least rhetorically, to elements of Putin’s stance.  Admiration and aspiration alone are insufficient in bridging the gap between Putin and Trump’s positions on Ukraine’s independence. Putin frames the conflict as existential, defending Russian civilisation against Western encroachment. This  makes compromise especially difficult. If the war is understood in these terms, how can Moscow return occupied territories without undermining its own civilisational claim? How can it accept a Ukraine that leans towards the European Union, or tolerate an American presence on its soil?  Trump may want peace, but Putin has tied his legitimacy to a narrative that resists it. Unless that framing is abandoned, or radically reinterpreted, any settlement will remain elusive.  A wider trend  “Russia’s approach is part of a wider pattern in which civilisational claims have become central to how leaders justify power and resist compromise. Xi Jinping frames China as a five-thousand-year-old civilisation whose territory includes Taiwan and the South China Sea. He presents the Communist Party as the guardian of a civilisational tradition stretching back to Confucius, giving contemporary disputes an aura of timeless legitimacy. Narendra Modi portrays India as an ancient Hindu civilisation restoring its rightful place after centuries of foreign domination. Each case is distinct, but the message is similar: our civilisation is exceptional, our sovereignty absolute, and our values not up for negotiation.    A troubled summit  Against this backdrop, the Alaska meeting was never likely to produce more than gestures. Trump may genuinely want peace and to be remembered as the leader who ended the war. Yet he is dealing with a counterpart who has justified the invasion of Ukraine in civilisational and existential terms. For Putin, Ukraine is not only territory but a symbol of Russia’s identity and sovereignty, cast as a bulwark against Western encroachment. Within this frame, Russia would view restoring Ukraine’s borders, accepting its European orientation, or tolerating a long-term American presence in the region as defeats of principle rather than concessions of interest.  Trump’s ambition to end the war faces an almost insoluble dilemma. Europe will reject a settlement that rewards aggression, while Putin refuses to surrender territory he has cast as integral to Russian civilisation. Land swaps seem practical but please neither side. If the conflict were to remains frozen, Ukraine will be fractured and the deeper issues unresolved. Peace demands compromise, but compromise undermines the very narratives on which Moscow has built its legitimacy. As a result, unless Putin retreats from his civilisational framing of the war, any settlement will remain elusive and Ukraine’s future uncertain.  Dr Nicholas Morieson is a Research Fellow at the Deakin Institute for Citizenship and Globalisation, Deakin University, Melbourne. He is the author of three books, including Weaponizing Civilizationalism for Authoritarianism: How Turkey, India, Russia, and China Challenge Liberal Democracy (Palgrave 2025).  This article is published under a Creative Commons License and may be republished with attribution.

As the two-year mark of Israel’s invasion of Gaza approaches, many wonder why Arab countries are not pressuring Israel. The answer is often simple: they are prioritizing their strategic and economic interests. Since the beginning of Israel’s ruthless offensive in Gaza on October 7, 2023, images have repeatedly shown Palestinian civilians crying out desperately to the cameras for help: “Where are the Arabs? Why isn’t anyone stopping this?” Almost two years later, despite the fact that fewer voices doubt that what began as a war has turned into a genocide that has taken the lives of more than 60,000 Palestinians, Arab states have not shifted even an inch from their initial stance: harmless statements of condemnation, without any action to pressure Israel. “Where are the Arabs? Taking a nap… By Arabs, I mean their rulers, with their heads buried in the sand,” declared Fawaz Gerges, professor at the London School of Economics, in a recent interview with the U.S. network NBC. In fact, it has often been non-Arab countries, thousands of kilometers away from Gaza, that have tried to stand up. Such is the case of South Africa, the country that denounced the existence of genocide in the enclave before the International Court of Justice in The Hague. “In general, Arab regimes have not taken concrete measures in response to the ongoing genocide in Gaza. The main reason is the prioritization of their strategic and economic interests over popular sentiments of support for Palestinians in the face of the horror they are experiencing. This is not surprising given that most [of the regimes] rule based on growing authoritarianism,” asserts Yara Hawari, co-director of the Palestinian think tank Al Shabaka. The gap between the street and the palace This gap between the opinion of the so-called “Arab street” and its rulers is evident in every new survey. In one of the most comprehensive, conducted by the Doha Institute with the participation of around 8,000 people from 16 different Arab countries, 92% of respondents believe that the Palestinian cause concerns all Arabs and not only Palestinians. A similar percentage, 89%, opposes normalizing relations with Israel. For an overwhelming majority, 84%, the genocide in Gaza represents a source of “great psychological stress,” and for another 13% it also constitutes a source of stress, though to a lesser degree. “Although they are not democratic, Arab regimes cannot entirely ignore their respective public opinions, which are horrified by what is happening in Gaza. That is why they must strike a delicate balance. They fear that discontent over their positions on Gaza could converge with other grievances — of which there are many — and potentially trigger social unrest,” explains Haizam Amirah Fernández, executive director of the Center for Contemporary Arab Studies (CEARC). So far, this has translated into statements condemning the massacres of civilians perpetrated by Israel, others in support of creating a Palestinian state, and the delivery of humanitarian aid to Gazans when approved by Tel Aviv. Of the 22 states that make up the Arab League, a total of six have signed an agreement to establish diplomatic relations with Israel. The first to do so was Egypt (1979), followed by Jordan (1994), and then Morocco, the United Arab Emirates, Bahrain, and Sudan joined under the so-called Abraham Accords sponsored by Trump in 2020 — although Sudan, currently in civil war, has not implemented it. In addition, other states maintain varying degrees of economic relations or security cooperation with Israel, such as Saudi Arabia. Among all these countries, none has broken diplomatic relations with the Israeli state over Gaza, and only Jordan has withdrawn its ambassador. On the other side, among Arab countries with a more hostile stance toward Israel, are Algeria, Tunisia, and Houthi-controlled Yemen, the only one that has applied military pressure on Israel by launching missiles and harassing maritime traffic in the Suez Canal. Lebanon and Iraq represent particular cases, as both are highly fragmented politically and home to pro-Iranian militias that consider Israel an enemy, such as Hezbollah — an opinion not shared by the entire political class. The reasons behind the indifference of so many Arab states toward Gaza are varied. First, some leaders — especially those of the Gulf petro-monarchies — perceive Iran or the Muslim Brotherhood, an organization linked to Hamas, as a greater threat than Israel. Faced with this sense of insecurity, also shared by President el-Sisi in Cairo, many look toward the West. “The permanence in power of these leaders does not depend on the choice of their citizens or subjects, but on external support from the United States, and this shapes their position on Palestine,” asserts Amirah Fernández, who lists several actions these countries could have taken to pressure Israel: from breaking or suspending bilateral agreements, such as the Camp David Accords between Israel and Egypt, to applying serious pressure to break Israel’s blockade of Gaza and thus allow humanitarian aid to reach the enclave, whether by land or by sea. Egypt, for example, has dedicated itself to repressing activists who attempted to carry out such actions near the Gaza border. The “realpolitik” of the new generation of leaders Beyond their deference to the West, the positions of Arab states in some cases respond to a stark calculation of “realpolitik”: the benefits they can gain from their relationship with Israel — a technological and military power — outweigh what an occupied people like the Palestinians can offer. [...]  In an interview with El Salto, journalist Antony Loewenstein, author of the book “The Palestine Laboratory”, explained how the sale of weapons and cyber-espionage tools has become a kind of insurance policy for Israel against possible retaliatory actions. “Almost a quarter of Israel’s [arms] exports went to Arab dictatorships, such as the United Arab Emirates […]. No Arab state has cut ties with Israel, and they won’t,” Loewenstein said. Against this backdrop, for decades the only common denominator among Arab states regarding the Palestinian issue has been the mere signing of joint declarations in support of the “two-state solution” to resolve the conflict with Israel. At the end of July, within the framework of a United Nations-sponsored summit to promote that solution, the “Arab consensus” unexpectedly expanded with all Arab League countries signing a declaration urging Hamas to disarm and hand over control of Gaza to the Palestinian Authority. Thus, the only bold — and unprecedented — action taken during nearly two years of genocide in Gaza has been to pressure Hamas and not Israel. A very bleak record for pan-Arab solidarity. 

At a high-stakes meeting at the White House on August 18, the US president, Donald Trump, and his Ukrainian counterpart, Volodymyr Zelensky, tried to hammer out the broad contours of a potential peace agreement with Russia. The tone of their encounter was in marked contrast to their last joint press conference in Washington back in February which ended with Zelensky’s humiliation by Trump and his vice president, J.D. Vance. The outcomes of the presidential get-together, and the subsequent, expanded meeting with leaders of the European coalition of the willing, were also a much more professional affair than Trump’s summit with his Russian counterpart, Vladimir Putin, on August 15. The results of the meetings in the White House were still far from perfect. But they are a much better response to the reality in which Ukrainians have lived for the past more than three-and-a-half years than what transpired during and after the brief press conference held by the two leaders after their meeting in Alaska. This relatively positive outcome was not a foregone conclusion. Over the weekend, Trump had put out a statement on his Truth Social platform that: “President Zelenskyy (sic) of Ukraine can end the war with Russia almost immediately”. But this came with the proviso that Zelensky would need to accept Ukraine’s loss of Crimea to Russia and forego his country’s future Nato membership. This, and similar ideas of land swaps between Russia and Ukraine, have already been roundly rejected by the Ukrainian president. Importantly, Kyiv’s position has been fully backed by Ukraine’s European allies. Leaders of the coalition of the willing issued a joint statement on August 16 to the effect that any territorial concessions were Ukraine’s to make or refuse. On Nato membership, their statement was more equivocal. European leaders asserted that Russia should not be allowed to have a veto on Ukraine’s choices. But the coalition’s reiteration of the commitment that it is “ready to play an active role” in guaranteeing Ukraine’s future security opened up a pathway to Trump to “Article 5-like protections” for Ukraine against future Russian aggression and promising “a lot of help when it comes to security”. Nato’s Article 5 guarantees that an attack on one member is an attack on all and commits the alliance to collective defence. A possibly emerging deal – some territorial concessions by Ukraine in exchange for peace and joint US and European security guarantees – appeared to become more certain during the televised meeting between Trump and his visitors before their closed-door discussions. In different ways, each of the European guests acknowledged the progress that Trump had made towards a settlement and they all emphasised the importance of a joint approach to Russia to make sure that any agreement would bring a just and lasting peace. As an indication that his guests were unwilling to simply accept whatever deal he had brought back with him from his meeting with Putin in Alaska, the US president then interrupted the meeting to call the Russian president. Signals from Russia were far from promising with Moscow rejecting any Nato troop deployments to Ukraine and singling out the UK as allegedly seeking to undermine the US-Russia peace effort. Peace remains elusive When the meeting concluded and the different leaders offered their interpretations of what had been agreed, two things became clear. First, the Ukrainian side had not folded under pressure from the US, and European leaders, while going out of their way to flatter Trump, held their ground as well. Importantly, Trump had not walked away from the process either but appeared to want to remain engaged. Second, Russia had not given any ground, either. According to remarks by Putin’s foreign policy advisor, Yuri Ushakov, posted on the Kremlin’s official website, Russia would consider “the possibility of raising the level of representatives of the Ukrainian and Russian parties”. His statement falls short of, but does not rule out, the possibility of a Zelensky-Putin summit, which Trump announced as a major success after the White House meetings yesterday. Such a meeting was seen as the next logical step towards peace by all the participants of the White House meeting and would be followed, according to Trump, by what he called “a Trilat” of the Ukrainian, Russian and American presidents. The lack of clear confirmation by Russia that such meetings would indeed happen raises more doubts about the Kremlin’s sincerity. But the fact that a peace process – if it can be called that – remains somewhat intact is a far cry from an actual peace agreement. Little if anything was said in the aftermath of the White House meeting on territorial issues. Pressure on Russia only came up briefly in comments by European leaders, whose ambitions to become formally involved in actual peace negotiations remain a pipe dream for the time being. And, despite the initial optimism about security guarantees, no firm commitments were made with Zelensky only noting “the important signal from the United States regarding its readiness to support and be part of these guarantees”. Peace in Ukraine thus remains elusive, for now. The only tangible success is that whatever Trump imagines as the process to a peace agreement did not completely fall apart. But as this process unfolds, its progress, if any, happens at a snail’s pace. Meanwhile the Russian war machine deployed against Ukraine grinds forward. At the end of the day, yesterday’s events changed little. They merely confirmed that Putin keeps playing for time, that Trump is unwilling to put real pressure on him and that Ukraine and Europe have no effective leverage on either side. Trump boldly claimed ahead of his meetings with Zelensky and the leaders of the coalition of the willing that he knew exactly what he was doing. That may be true – but it may also not be enough without knowing and understanding what his counterpart in the Kremlin is doing.

As AI accelerates, the US and China shape the global governance landscape through parallel ambitions and contrasting ideologies. Understanding their policy trajectories reveals key inflection points for potential engagement. The United States and China are the world’s leading powers in artificial intelligence (AI)—and each has global ambitions. As AI development accelerates, so too do calls to regulate it responsibly. Both countries have the capacity to shape the future of AI governance. But understanding where cooperation might be possible requires understanding how each country’s approach has evolved. While their methods and ideologies differ, and their leadership aspirations often appear at odds, two underexamined forces—infrastructure and philosophy—may create unexpected space for mutual engagement. In the US, AI governance has long been shaped by the mythology of the free market. Under President Barack Obama, that mythology was tempered by calls for pipeline diversity. President Donald Trump discarded these in favour of rhetoric about “American values,” an ill-defined phrase deployed more as a competitive cudgel against China than a coherent policy vision. President Joe Biden attempted to resurrect some of Obama’s normative commitments—launching the Blueprint for an AI Bill of Rights, Executive Order 14110 on “safe, secure, and trustworthy AI,” and initiatives like the National AI Research Resource—but the foundations of his administration’s policies remained countering China’s influence through increased export controls and other measures. Trump’s second administration has once again changed focus away from equity and community-centredness, but the continued focus on competing with China and ensuring US “victory” in the “AI race” shows there’s more continuity than often assumed between different administrations’ AI approaches. China, for its part, has been more consistent in its governance strategy, even as it experiments at the margins. Its 2017 New Generation AI Development Plan cast AI as a pillar of national strength, and subsequent regulations on algorithms, deepfakes, generative AI, and facial recognition underscore a clear priority: balancing the “twin miracles” of economic development and social stability. Though early days of “fragmented authoritarianism” have given way to a more centralised approach with specific vertical laws, this logic remains embedded throughout the governance system. China is generally less explicit in its rhetoric than the US, with fewer exhortations about race dynamics and countering the US. In fact, it frequently invokes ideas of ethical pluralism and the language of international cooperation. This framing likely reflects a blend of genuine ideological positioning and diplomatic strategy, but it presents a challenge to US policymakers who continue to frame AI governance in moralising binaries. This is evident in two parallel AI Action Plans released in July 2025. The US released a guiding document—indicatively titled “Winning the Race: America’s AI Action Plan”—with an epigraph from President Trump stating: “As our global competitors race to exploit these technologies, it is a national security imperative for the United States to achieve and maintain unquestioned and unchallenged global technological dominance.” Though the Action Plan itself contains only three substantive references to China, it is built on the premise that global AI is an inherently competitive “race,” and China is clearly the US’s main competitor. A few days after the US AI Action Plan was released, China released its “Global AI Governance Action Plan.” It builds on the 2023 Global AI Governance Initiative, which seeks to portray China as a leader in the global pursuit of AI for the good of humanity and a “champion of the Global South.” The Global AI Governance Action Plan contains fewer specifics than the US AI Action Plan, but calls for “strengthening international cooperation on AI capacity building,” including supporting developing countries to design, implement, and govern AI. It also calls for building a global AI governance system through the UN and again shows the key balance of economic development and social stability: while it acknowledges the need to “jointly push for innovation breakthroughs,” it also advocates for strengthening “policy and regulatory coordination” and building an international AI safety governance framework. The US, on the other hand, is determined to cut “bureaucratic red tape and onerous regulation” while working primarily with its allies. However, recent events have called into question the feasibility of this approach. Notably, despite calls to increase export controls—and mobilise allies to do the same—the US announced shortly before the release of the AI Action Plan that it would again permit Nvidia to export H20 chips to China after previously restricting them. This was part of a trade deal in which China agreed to lighten restrictions on rare earth exports. Though seemingly counterintuitive, this deal reflects a fundamental reality of the modern AI ecosystem: the resources and supply chains enabling it are inextricably intertwined. China mines roughly 70 percent and processes 90 percent of rare earth minerals. US-based Nvidia has 92 percent of the GPU market. Both of these are critical for progress in AI. Both countries are attempting infrastructure decoupling, but the US may have to compromise on its fundamentalism to maintain access to the critical resources it needs. Meanwhile, its advanced chip dominance in turn provides leverage over China. Will this lead to broader cooperation? Geopolitical issues are likely too entrenched for each country to join hands and promote harmonious global AI governance. However, each country’s primary goal is the same: to benefit the “people.” China is claiming that its definition of “the people” is the global community—though this comes with the noted exclusion of domestic critics, including the Uighurs of Xinjiang, who are subject to AI-enabled surveillance and detention. The US’s definition of “the people” has changed from administration to administration, but currently seems to include the American people and potentially allied nations. It’s doubtful that the current administration will agree to substantive global AI governance discussions. But through its Action Plan, China has thrown down the gauntlet—engage with global AI governance or be an obstructionist. What the US will choose remains to be seen. Emmie Hine is a Research Associate at the Yale Digital Ethics Center and a PhD candidate in Law, Science, and Technology at the University of Bologna and KU Leuven. She researches the ethics and governance of emerging technologies, including AI. You can also find her byline in her weekly tech-focused newsletter, the Ethical Reckoner. Emmie holds degrees from Williams College and the University of Oxford, and previously worked as a software engineer. She’s on Bluesky here and X here. This article is published under a Creative Commons License and may be republished with attribution.

The BRICS meeting in Rio on July 6th and 7th gives a snapshot of the great power competition between China and the United States in different regions around the world, including Latin America. China has become the largest trading partner for many countries in Latin America, investing heavily in infrastructure and forging political alliances that further its strategic objectives. For its part, the Trump Administration of the United States issued the statement that those participating countries will face increased tariffs. The statement was the continuation of exercise and assertion of its authority for the past and present century. The positioning of various BRICS members and participating countries is particularly telling of what the great power competition means in the region and also globally. Brazil’s Lula hosted the meeting aiming to showcase its foreign policy leadership, not necessarily antagonizing the West. Russia is still going through the war in Ukraine, and Putin attended only online. India’s Modi was present as well as Ramaphosa from South Africa. No show of Xi Jinping was notable, although Premier Li Qiang was attending. Besides the BRICS core, other countries also showed promotion of their interests. Iran, for one, joined the group in 2024 and sent a ministerial level delegation to rebuke recent strikes on Iran. As the United States appears to be pulling back from its traditional leadership role in the world, China is seizing the opportunity to expand its influence and reshape global dynamics. Through a combination of state-driven development policies and active international engagement, Beijing has positioned itself as a major player in the Global South, extending its reach beyond Asia to regions such as Africa and Latin America. China’s increasing presence in the region has been mainly driven by the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) and a surge in trade volumes, marking a major shift in the region’s economic landscape. Many experts point to China’s use of “infrastructure diplomacy”—financing ambitious, strategic infrastructure projects across the region—as a key factor in this rise. The numbers tell a compelling story. Trade data from the World Bank (Figure 1) shows that in the past ten years, China has overtaken the United States as the leading trading partner for much of the region, upending a dynamic that had held steady since the early 2000s. Beyond trade, China’s influence deepens through the 22 countries in Latin America and the Caribbean that have joined the Belt and Road Initiative. Chinese loans have poured in, funding major energy, infrastructure, and development projects that have reshaped local economies. China’s push isn’t just economic—it’s political too. Beijing has taken steps to strengthen cultural ties, increase academic exchanges and boost tourism in Latin America, including waiving visa requirements for travelers from some countries. This multi-faceted approach highlights China’s pragmatic mix of economic self-interest and strategic diplomacy as it works to secure resources, expand markets, and bolster its global standing. On the other hand, the United States has long been a strategic ally and key trading partner for Latin America. Agencies like USAID have funneled millions of dollars into economic and military initiatives across the region. With the recent changes in the aid policy, immigration policy, and tariff policy, Washington’s recalibration of its foreign policy are transforming the geopolitical balance in Latin America and the Caribbean. As both powers deploy their strategies — from deepening economic ties to defending national interests — the decisions of Latin American states remain critical in shaping their alignments with global powers. The ultimate outcome is still up in the air, but one thing is clear: power in the region is actively being renegotiated. The diverging approaches from China and the US have set the stage for a broader reconfiguration of power in Latin America and the Caribbean. Yet, it’s essential to recognize that each country’s internal decisions and policies also play a critical role in shaping this shifting landscape. Colombia provides a case in point. Historically, it has maintained close diplomatic ties with the United States while keeping China at arm’s length. Unlike countries like Brazil, Argentina, and Peru, Colombia has received relatively little Chinese infrastructure investment. However, with the election of president Gustavo Petro—the first left-wing president in the country’s history—Colombia has taken decisive steps to strengthen its relationship with China, presenting new challenges for the United States to maintain its strategic foothold in the country. We observe – both on political and economic dimensions – that the changes in China’s strategy, coupled with Colombia’s domestic policies, have reduced the country’s dependence on the US while increasing its desire to integrate with China. Politically, Colombia and the United States have long enjoyed a strong diplomatic relationship, as reflected in their shared memberships in international organizations, high-level dialogues, and multiple bilateral agreements. However, diplomatic tensions have emerged in recent years. Disputes between the two leaders, the change of course of USAID, and a significant drop in new bilateral agreements over the past four years have contributed to a shift in this traditionally stable partnership. Against this backdrop, diplomatic ties between China and Colombia have strengthened. In 2023 alone, both countries signed 12 cooperation agreements in trade, technology, and economic development, upgraded their relationship to a strategic partnership, and Colombia’s entry into the Belt and Road Initiative during recent China – CELAC Forum in May. Colombia also joined the BRICS New Development Bank a few weeks after that Forum. Economically, the US has traditionally been Colombia’s largest trading partner, backed by a free trade agreement and significant investment. Yet, in recent years, the share of US trade has steadily declined, while China’s footprint has grown (see figure 1). Although there’s no formal trade agreement, ties have strengthened during the current administration, including the opening of a Buenaventura-Shanghai trade route in 2025. Additionally, China’s “infrastructural diplomacy” has significantly grown: over 100 Chinese companies now operate in Colombia, and major infrastructure projects like Bogotá’s Metro Line 1 and the Regiotram are underway, along with investments in mobility, technology, and health. Latin America, and Colombia in particular, finds itself at the center of a geopolitical tug-of-war with China’s calculated investments and the US’s shifting policies. While Beijing leverages trade, infrastructure, and cultural diplomacy to expand its influence, Washington’s recalibration of its foreign policy leaves room for new alliances and opportunities. Our analysis shows that power reconfiguration is not merely a product of external rivalry. It is driven by the choices each Latin American nation makes. As Colombia’s case demonstrates, the region’s destiny hinges not just on global superpowers, but on its own internal political decisions and developments. The coming years will test how Latin America navigates these shifting currents. Disclaimer This article was made possible in part by a grant from the Carnegie Corporation of New York (G-PS-24-62004, Small State Statecraft and Realignment). The statements made and views expressed are solely the responsibility of the authors. Figure 1: China vs. US Import and Export TrendsDrawn by the authors using data from the World Bank.  

A new vision for Middle East peace emerged this week which proposes the withdrawal of Israel from Gaza and the West Bank, the disarming and disbanding of Hamas and the creation of a unified Palestinian state. The plan emerged from a “high-level conference” in New York on July 29, which assembled representatives of 17 states, the European Union and the Arab League. The resulting proposal is “a comprehensive and actionable framework for the implementation of the two-state solution and the achievement of peace and security for all”. Signatories include Turkey and the Middle Eastern states of Saudi Arabia, Qatar, Egypt and Jordan. Europe was represented by France, Ireland, Italy, Norway, Spain and the UK. Indonesia was there for Asia, Senegal for Africa, and Brazil, Canada and Mexico for the Americas. Neither the US nor Israel were present. Significantly, it is the first time the Arab states have called for Hamas to disarm and disband. But, while condemning Hamas’s attack on Israel of October 7 2023 and recalling that the taking of hostages is a violation of international law, the document is unsparing in its connection between a state of Palestine and an end to Israel’s assault on Gaza’s civilians. It says: “Absent decisive measures toward the two-state solution and robust international guarantees, the conflict will deepen and regional peace will remain elusive.” A plan for the reconstruction of Gaza will be developed by the Arab states and the Organisation of Islamic Cooperation – a Jeddah-based group which aims to be the collective voice of the Muslim world – supported by an international fund. The details will be hammered out at a Gaza Reconstruction and Recovery Conference, to be held in Cairo. It is a bold initiative. In theory, it could end the Israeli mass killing in Gaza, remove Hamas from power and begin the implementation of a process for a state of Palestine. The question is whether it has any chance of success. First, there appears to be growing momentum to press ahead with recognition of the state of Palestine as part of a comprehensive peace plan leading to a two-state solution. France, the UK and, most recently, Canada have announced they would take that step at the UN general assembly in September. The UK stated that it would do so unless Israel agreed to a ceasefire and the commencement of a substantive peace process. These announcements follow those made in May 2024 by Spain, Ireland and Norway, three of the other European signatories. By the end of September at least 150 of the UN’s 193 members will recognise Palestinian statehood. Recognition is largely symbolic without a ceasefire and Israeli withdrawal from both Gaza and the West Bank. But it is essential symbolism. For years, many European countries, Canada, Australia and the US have said that recognition could not be declared if there was the prospect of Israel-Palestine negotiations. Now the sequence is reversed: recognition is necessary as pressure for a ceasefire and the necessary talks to ensure the security of both Israelis and Palestinians. Israel accelerated that reversal at the start of March, when it rejected the scheduled move to phase two of the six-week ceasefire negotiated with the help of the US, and imposed a blockade on aid coming into the Strip. The Netanyahu government continues to hold out against the ceasefire. But its loud blame of Hamas is becoming harder to accept. The images of the starvation in Gaza and warnings by doctors, humanitarian organisations and the UN of an effective famine with the deaths of thousands can no longer be denied. Saudi Arabia and Qatar, behind the scenes and through their embassies, have been encouraging European countries to make the jump to recognition. Their efforts at the UN conference in New York this week are another front of that campaign. Israel and the Trump administration But in the short term, there is little prospect of the Netanyahu government giving way with its mass killing, let alone entering talks for two states. Notably neither Israel nor the US took part in the conference. Trump has criticised the scenes of starvation in Gaza. But his administration has joined Netanyahu in vitriolic denunciation of France and the UK over their intentions to recognise Palestine. And the US president has warned the Canadian prime minister, Mark Carney, that recognition of Palestinian statehood would threaten Canada’s trade deal with the US. In response to Trump’s concern over the images of starving children and his exhortation “We’ve got to get the kids fed,” Israel has airdropped a few pallets of aid – less than a truck’s worth. Yet this appears more of a public relations exercise directed at Washington than a genuine attempt to ease the terrible condition on the Strip. A small number of lorries with supplies from UN and humanitarian organisations have also crossed the border, but only after lengthy delays and with half still held up. There is no security for transport and delivery of the aid inside Gaza. A sacrifice for a state? So the conference declaration is not relief for Gaza. Instead, it is yet another marker of Israel’s increasing isolation. After France’s announcement, the Netanyahu government thundered: “Such a move rewards terror and risks creating another Iranian proxy … A Palestinian state in these conditions would be a launch pad to annihilate Israel.” But while recognising Hamas’s mass killing of October 7 2023, most governments and their populations do not perceive Israel as attacking Hamas and its fighters. They see the Netanyahu government and Israeli military slaying and starving civilians. Even in the US, where the Trump administration is trying to crush sympathy for Palestine and Gazans in universities, non-governmental organisations and the public sphere, opinion is shifting. In a Gallup poll taken in the US and released on July 29, only 32% of respondents supported Israel’s actions in Gaza – an all-time low – and 60% opposed them. Netanyahu was viewed unfavourably by 52% and favourably by only 29%. Israel has lost its moment of “normalisation” with Arab states. Its economic links are strained and its oft-repeated claim to being the “Middle East’s only democracy” is bloodstained beyond recognition. This will be of no comfort to the people of Gaza facing death. But in the longer term, there is the prospect that this sacrifice will be the catalyst to recognise Palestine that disappeared in 1948.

Abstract The paper considers the question of location in the development and governance of artificial intelligence in Africa. The discussion draws from ideas on locational advantage and the mix of factors that affect inequalities in AI development and how this influences the ability that countries have to shape AI norms, cultures and governance. It analyses policy documents and internet databases to highlight Africa’s place in AI development, the continent’s governance approach and the symbiotic relationship that explains the influence of advanced countries and tech corporations in the AI landscape. Based on this, it proposes the concept of the ‘politics of locationality’ to extend our understanding of how the power resident in AI systems is associated with their primary situatedness and how this reality, in turn, (re)produces imbalances and unequal opportunities for Africa in AI development and governance. It concludes with implications for Africa’s contribution to global AI cultures, design and governance at this time of pressing need for well-balanced AI policies. KeywordsAI governance, culture, ethics, inequality, locational advantage, politics of locationality Introduction The race for supremacy in AI development and governance has gathered pace among leading countries such as the US, European nations and China (Bradford, 2023). Many of the largest AI companies and models trace their origins to these countries and benefit from massive investments in computing, data and skills (Moorosi, 2024). By contrast, African countries mainly boast of AI startup ecosystems coordinated by technology hubs such as Kenya’s ‘Silicon Savannah’ (Eke et al., 2023) and African journalists have had to grapple with tools like ChatGPT, given the relevance of generative AI for media production (Gondwe, 2023). Although many of these experiences show Africa’s creative potential in the AI sector, as well as its growing market for AI technologies and tools (Okolo et al., 2023), there remain complex historical, cultural, political, legal, economic, labour and data factors that the continent faces in its drive towards AI development and governance. This mix of factors is a subject that scholars have considered to varying degrees (Muldoon and Wu, 2023; Png, 2022). I build on this by examining the question of locationality within that mix and how locationality helps to explain aspects of the symbiotic relationship between countries and platforms in shaping AI design and governance principles within a global context. My discussion sits at the intersection of critical media studies (Ott and Mack, 2014), digital geopolitics (Wong, 2021) and AI studies (Crawford, 2021), seeking to demonstrate why AI, understood as a political tool for constructing knowledge and generating maps of meaning, should be situated. This focus on situatedness further ties into studies on economic geography and locational advantage (Dunning, 1998; Iammarino and McCann, 2013), which explain why multinationals such as AI companies are more likely to choose certain locations as headquarters and how these locations are better placed to acquire greater leverage and power. It relates to the understanding that the location where a technology company is headquartered has considerable influence to shape that company’s decisions (Sargsyan, 2016), presupposing that advanced AI development confers locational advantage on the place where this development is primarily domiciled, making it a locus of power in shaping global AI ethics, norms and governance. This presupposition is what I interrogate by asking: How do issues around the location of AI development explain the impact that African countries have to shape AI design, cultures and governance in light of inequalities between advanced nations and the majority world? This question is crucial as it indicates which countries are better positioned as key definers of AI at a time when the design, norms, ethics, principles and governance of the technology are being concretised. It also leads to my argument on what I call the ‘politics of locationality’ as a concept to advance our understanding of how the primary situatedness of leading AI companies in advanced locations (such as the Global North) reveals inequalities in AI development and governance in the majority world. In this paper, advanced locations refer to the US, Europe and China – following Bradford’s (2023) description of them as the three digital empires, having the capacity not only to define the digital ecosystem in line with their cultures and priorities, but also shape the digital values of other countries that fall under their influence. The discussion that follows flows through a review of the literature, my methodology and findings, culminating in my argument on the politics of locationality. Locationality and the mix of factors in AI development Across the AI landscape, ethical principles are vital because they guide AI development, design and governance (Tidjon and Khomh, 2022). In Africa, some of the ethical and cultural values that researchers contend should guide AI development include ubuntu (communal humaneness), humanism and indigenous knowledge (Nayebare, 2019; Mhlambi and Tiribelli, 2023). Not enough of this has been realised, however, given that AI technologies on the continent remain a largely Western import (Eke et al., 2023). Nonetheless, home-grown African AI systems have been on the rise, evident in the creation of technology centres such as Kenya’s ‘Silicon Savannah’, Ethiopia’s ‘Sheba Valley’ and Nigeria’s ‘Yabacon Valley’ (Eke et al., 2023). The centres serve as ecosystems that provide leverage for AI startups that are supported by communities such as Data Science Nigeria and Deep Learning Indaba (Nuwer, 2024). Okolo et al. (2023) found that there are at least 102 of these startups in Africa. But they face challenges ranging from limited infrastructure for energy and computing-intensive technology and lack of expertise (Nuwer, 2024). These challenges presuppose that AI development on the continent is likely to lag behind global advancements – with implications for the influence that the continent has as a place from which AI norms, ethics and governance are shaped. The US remains a dominant player in shaping AI ethics and governance. Chan et al. (2021), for instance, observe that the US is predominant in the AI development space, in line with its economic and cultural dominance and China follows closely behind, pointing to a US-China tech war in digital geopolitics (Wong, 2021). China, in particular, has exported AI facial recognition and smart city technologies to Africa, serving as the continent’s largest foreign ICT investor (Lin, 2024), with increasing access to African datasets (Okolo et al., 2023) – a worrying trend. Also, investments in AI still concentrate in countries like the US and China, with only 1% of global venture capital flows into Africa (Moorosi, 2024). This means profits from AI development are typically reinvested in the leading countries, creating further disparities between them and the majority world (Chan et al., 2021). Although major tech companies (e.g. Google and Microsoft) have invested in Africa by establishing AI labs in African countries, Chan et al. (2021) note that it is common for staff working in these labs to be based in advanced countries. These major AI companies have also diversified their locational presence by outsourcing some operations through an international division of labour across Africa. But they tend to do so in exploitative ways such as hiring low-wage data annotators, highlighting the continent’s locational disadvantage (Ludec et al., 2023). What this points to is the relation of labour and capital, which further underscores Muldoon and Wu’s (2023) description of the global AI supply chain as colonial, since it is actualised through an international division of digital labour that extracts value from labour in the majority world for the benefit of Western technological companies. It also reinforces hegemonic knowledge production through Western values and knowledge that marginalise non-Western alternatives (Muldoon and Wu, 2023). This hegemonic knowledge production leads to questions on the role of the human in the machine, since AI is not based on abstract models, but is embedded in human agency and cultural values (Natale and Guzman, 2022). Additionally, this hegemonic knowledge production not only ties into discourses on power in critical media studies (Ott and Mack, 2014), but also on the relevance of AI for creative and cultural work (Lee, 2022) – as seen in the use of ChatGPT, which, African journalists say, is built on a poor and non-representative African corpus and perpetuates stereotypes of the continent (Gondwe, 2023). What the foregoing, therefore, indicates are the mix of historical, technological, economic, labour and cultural factors that underpin AI development and deployment in Africa’s locational context, with implications for governance outcomes. AI governance and digital regulation in Africa In terms of governance, state actors in Africa have drawn up policy and legal instruments at local levels and are only just taking part in global multistakeholder conversations. Examples of these multistakeholder fora include the AI Governance Alliance of the World Economic Forum (2025), where three African countries (Rwanda, South Africa and Kenya) are represented and the Global Partnership on Artificial Intelligence (2025), where Senegal is the only African country. It is unclear what influence African countries wield in multistakeholder bodies like these, but the indication is that inclusion is usually performative and exists for ‘virtue signalling and promotional purposes’ (Png, 2022: para. 17). At continental and regional levels, Plantinga et al. (2024) observe that African countries have increasingly turned towards AI strategies, but without considering how feasible these are to implement and their suitability to local contexts. There are also data localisation laws, which stipulate that data be stored and processed in the location where they are generated, with restrictions on data transfers across borders (Giovane et al., 2023). These laws, which point to the geographical relevance of data, have been introduced by at least 16 African countries, including Mauritius, Lesotho and Ivory Coast; they are also present in legal instruments on data protection, financial transactions, cybersecurity and telecommunications in several countries across the continent (CIPESA, 2022). Locationality is therefore the underlying principle in data localisation, underscoring the importance of data for AI control and governance. Sargsyan (2016: 2224), for instance, notes: ‘countries that host intermediaries’ data centres and offices have more opportunities to exercise influence over companies’ decisions and claim jurisdiction over data stored in their territory.’ What is crucial here is the presence of data centres which is vital for AI production, and African countries face challenges in relation to data, since the continent’s data centre landscape is nascent although growing (DCByte, 2023). When it comes to enforcement, only a few countries have been successful in imposing local laws and claiming jurisdiction over data stored in data centres, the most successful being the US (Sargsyan, 2016: 2231). This underscores the difficulties of AI policy implementation that African governments face, since, as CIPESA (2022) notes, there is barely any evidence that data localisation laws have been enforced in Africa. Where implementation has been more practicable is in the imposition of internet taxes on users in countries like Guinea, Benin, Uganda and Zimbabwe (Bergére, 2019). The infrastructure platforms through which governments enforce the taxes are local Internet Service Providers (ISPs) and telecommunication providers (Bergére, 2019). The same process finds expression in the imposition of internet bans in Africa – enforcement targets usage disruption and is done through local ISPs (Parks and Thompson, 2020). African countries ordinarily enjoy a positive balance of power in comparison with local ISPs. Also, the fact that major tech and AI companies can be banned from operating or delivering services in any African country points to the power that the state has to impose controls as a means of last resort. Users can also deploy collective action against AI companies (Fratini and Musiani, 2024). All these highlight the diverse ways in which power and governance are contested at local levels but say little about the place that Africa holds in contributing to and shaping AI ethics, governance and worldviews in the global sense. If, as Sargsyan (2016) notes, the location where a technology company is headquartered has significant powers to influence the decisions of the technology company, then what does Africa’s record in AI development imply for its ability to shape AI design, ethics, cultures and governance? This question is what I aim to answer in interrogating the relevance of the politics of locationality for AI in Africa. Method To this end, I draw from a methodological approach informed by textual analysis of AI policy documents and critical analysis of internet databases containing the location associated with AI companies/models. For the AI policy documents, I focussed on three domains. The first domain concerned the AI policies of African countries, where I selected the AI Strategies of four countries: Mauritius (Mauritius AI Strategy, 2018), Egypt (Egypt AI Strategy, 2021), Rwanda (Rwandan National AI Policy, 2022) and Nigeria [draft] (Nigerian AI Strategy, 2024), representing South, North, East and West Africa respectively. I also reviewed the African Union’s (2024) AI Strategy. Mauritius, Egypt and Rwanda are particularly relevant because they are the first three countries to introduce AI strategies in Africa. I chose AI strategies because they comprise one of the major emphases for policymakers on the continent (Maslej et al., 2024). I analyse the strategies based on themes, which I developed after reviewing and coding the texts. The second domain included the AI policies of leading global players in AI: the US, EU and China. Here, my analysis aimed to ascertain whether these policies mandate AI firms to develop their technologies in line with principles and standards upheld by the leading countries. The third domain included the policies of some of the largest AI companies/models: OpenAI and Gemini (for the US), Darktrace (for the UK) and UBTECH and Qwen (for China). My aim was to examine whether these AI companies/models subject their policies and practices to the countries or places where they are headquartered. For the database searches, I accessed and reviewed the following to ascertain the location of AI companies globally: Datamation (see Jungco, 2024), AI Directory (2024) and the Companies Market Capitalisation (2024). I also drew from sources such as Epoch AI (2024), the Emerging Technology Observatory’s (2024) AI Country Activity Tracker and the AI Index Report (Maslej et al., 2024). Overall, my goal was to assess Africa’s place in AI development in comparison with the leading countries in AI before considering the leverage that locationality affords to nations when it comes to AI design, ethics and governance – the underlying premise for the politics of locationality. Locational advantage and AI development in Africa While acknowledging the mix of factors that comprise AI development, my findings focus on locationality by considering the number of AI companies headquartered in Africa and elsewhere. Here, I found that most AI companies are headquartered in advanced countries, with many of the largest AI companies being in the US. These are companies that have significant capitalisation as listed on the Companies Market Cap to scale globally and invest in AI infrastructure and models that fundamentally impact societies. Jungco’s (2024) review shows that the overwhelming majority (80%) of these companies are based in the US (81 out of 101 companies). The closest to this was the UK, which had eight companies out of 101. India and Canada had three each; China and Germany had two each; and Israel and Hong Kong had one each. The same is true for data compiled by AI Directory (2024) and the Companies Market Capitalisation (2024). I compiled the three listings (Jungco, 2024; AI Directory and the Companies Market Cap) and removed duplicates. The combined list comprised 234 of the largest AI companies (see Table 1), ranging from Apple valued at $3.3 trillion to FR8Tech valued at $2.1 million. The outcome shows that at 73%, the US is the undoubted leader. It is followed by India (5.98%), the UK (5.56%), China (2.99%) and Canada (2.56%). There is no African country on the list.   There is a similar outcome for data on notable AI models, such as OpenAI’s ChatGPT, Alibaba’s Qwen and Meta’s Llama. Table 2 shows that, when isolating for AI models owned by organisations or entities that come from only one country, two-thirds (67.7%) of these notable AI models are traceable to the US. Again, no other country comes close; the closest countries are the UK, China, Canada and Germany. Maslej et al. (2024), in the AI Index, also show that foundation AI models, which are the basis for generative AI, are far more prevalent in the US. Again, there are no entries for Africa.   If Africa does not serve as a headquarter for the largest AI companies or models, what then can be said about AI startups? To answer this, I consulted the 2024 AI Country Activity Tracker, which presents data on the number of approved AI patents based on country locations, including patents for AI startups. The data, presented in Table 3, show that Africa is only ahead of the Middle East; even at this, Africa accounts for only 0.000006% or 157 of the 250,224 AI patents captured in the tracker. And only three African countries account for the continent’s figures: South Africa (139 patents), Morocco (17 patents) and Kenya (1 patent). Although this figure of 157 is slightly more than the 102 startups that Okolo et al. (2023) provided, the conclusions are similar: Africa has some way to go in making up for AI development in the future.   All these show that although Africa provides labour and data for AI companies globally and is poised to be a significant market as internet connectivity spreads (Access Partnership, 2024), it barely serves as a headquarter for AI companies, particularly the largest ones. This underscores Africa’s nascent standing in AI development and suggests that African countries will likely be constrained in their ability to shape wider AI ethics, cultures and governance. It perhaps explains why no African country has passed AI legislation into law (although some attempts are underway), with focus instead on AI task forces, national policies and strategies (Maslej et al., 2024). I turn next to the analysis of these strategies to examine the policy approach to AI development and governance in Africa. Analysing AI strategies in Africa My analysis of the AI strategies/policies of Mauritius, Egypt, Rwanda, Nigeria and the AU shows that they coalesce around four main themes: AI adoption for economic growth, AI partnership and collaboration, improving AI ethics and governance and strengthening local AI capacity. The focus on AI for economic growth is understandable, given that AI’s potential for economic transformation is a major attraction. This focus, which is present in all the strategies, highlights how AI can enhance economic development in various sectors (see in particular, the Mauritian Strategy). But more important, in the context of my discussion, are the inequalities in international cooperation and multistakeholder governance that the strategies point towards. To establish this, I refer to Pillar Two of the Nigerian AI Strategy, which underscores the need for partnership and collaboration among local and international stakeholders to leverage AI expertise and resources. The Rwandan AI Policy also recommends international partnerships and collaboration in AI development. But collaborations, especially with international private actors, highlight the need to evaluate where the major partners come from. These partners can collaborate with African countries and invest in AI, but they still operate primarily by rules set in their home countries, even if they also subscribe to laws in subsidiary countries (I establish this point in the next section). The exception would be collaboration within the continent, as can be found in the Egyptian and AU Strategies. The third theme, which focusses on ethics and governance, acknowledges the risks of AI and the need to mitigate them. It considers the importance of having AI principles such as fairness, transparency and accountability (see the Nigerian Strategy). The AU Strategy also mentions the need to guard against bias and risks to African values, indigenous knowledge and cultural heritage. This is connected to the AU’s Agenda 2063, which has a media and culture mandate to support inclusive and ethical AI through values such as ubuntu. But the plan to address these risks, for the most part, points to multistakeholder governance. The Egyptian Strategy, for instance, seeks to ‘actively contribute to global efforts and playing an active role in AI in different international fora’ (Section 5.1). Rwanda’s Policy also intends to ‘actively contribute to shaping responsible AI principles and practices in international platforms’ (Key Policy Recommendation 14). Likewise, the AU Strategy promotes a ‘multi-tiered governance approach’ (Section 2.4.1). They highlight a move towards greater inclusivity in international governance – hence the use of the word ‘actively’ in many of the strategies. My point, however, is that no matter how ‘actively’ African countries intend to influence AI cooperation, ethics and governance, there is a need to first reckon with Africa’s standing in AI development. Policymakers on the continent seem to have recognised this reality, and it is noticeable in their focus on strengthening local AI capacity. The AU Strategy, for instance, notes that Africa faces challenges around lack of computing platforms, limited data for training AI models and a scarce supply of AI skills, observing that, as of 2023, all the world’s supercomputers are located in only 30 countries. The Nigerian Strategy also recognises the need to build ‘affordable and localised infrastructure foundations and the compute capacity’ (Section 1.4.2) by making high-performance computing available. In Rwanda and Egypt, there is emphasis on AI training in schools. Evident here is a recognition that the continent lags behind in AI development, although it has a growing AI startup ecosystem and an unsaturated market for AI. It underscores the need to interrogate AI development, the locational advantages and disadvantages it represents and its links to governance inequalities. I argue that this should be a major consideration in Africa, based on what I describe as the politics of locationality. The politics of locationality Having established the foundational basis for my argument, I now define the politics of locationality as the way in which the power resident in Big Tech and AI systems is associated with their primary situatedness in places of advanced technological and AI development and how this underlying reality, in turn, (re)produces imbalances and unequal opportunities for AI development and governance faced by countries in the majority world, particularly Africa. The politics of locationality highlights the mix of advantages that countries such as the US, China and those in Europe where the largest AI companies are headquartered have. By contrast, African countries, despite advances that have been made in the AI startup ecosystem and state policy interventions, suffer from a range of disadvantages in locational, political, economic, cultural, data, labour and historical spheres. Addressing this mix of disadvantages is what the continent needs to become a location of influence from which the values, ethics and governance that circumscribe AI can be shaped. To expand on my argument, I refer to the AI policies of some of the largest companies and the guiding principles for AI that leading tech countries have drafted. Take OpenAI for instance. The OpenAI (2024) Terms of Use specify that dispute resolution between the company and users anywhere in the world would be coordinated by National Arbitration and Mediation, headquartered in New York. The law that governs the arbitration is the US Federal Arbitration Act. It adds that, ‘California law will govern these Terms’ and ‘claims arising out of or relating to these Terms will be brought exclusively in the federal or state courts of San Francisco, California’ (see Governing Law Section). This is not surprising, given that OpenAI is headquartered in San Francisco. Also, for Gemini (2024), owned by Google, the governing law of its User Agreement is the laws of New York, and the Agreement is seen as a ‘contract wholly entered into and wholly performed within the State of New York’ (see Governing Law Section). I found a similar pattern in the UK and China. In the UK, Darktrace (2024), an AI cybersecurity firm, notes that the governing law of its Master Services Agreement is the laws of England and Wales, except if the customer is located in the US, in which case the laws of California apply. In China, Section VII of the Terms of Use of UBTECH (2023), an AI robotics firm, states: ‘The establishment, effectiveness, performance, interpretation and dispute resolution of this [user] agreement are subject to the laws of the People’s Republic of China (excluding Hong Kong, Macau, Taiwan).’ The same goes for Alibaba’s Qwen (2023), which is covered by the Alibaba Cloud International Website Terms of Use, the governing law of which is that of Singapore, where Alibaba has its office in the Asia Pacific. Hence, I note that AI companies uphold the laws of the countries where they are headquartered, and they subject the governance of their technologies to these laws. AI companies have also come under sustained pressure to develop rules according to the values, ethics and standards of their host nations, thanks, in part, to the dictates of digital geopolitics and the competition for AI supremacy. The US, for instance, had the Biden Administration’s Executive Order on Safe, Secure and Trustworthy Artificial Intelligence (US Executive Order, 2023), through which it sought to promote an AI market that emphasises US innovation and leadership on AI (Section 2(h)) and the need to encourage international partners to support the voluntary commitments of US AI companies (Section 11(a)(ii)). But these voluntary commitments are underpinned by the need for US leadership and ‘to ensure that artificial intelligence is aligned with values shared by all Americans’ (proposed National AI Commission Act (2023), Section 3(g)(1)). The Biden Executive Order was replaced in January 2025 by the Trump AI Executive Order, aptly named, ‘Removing Barriers to American Leadership in Artificial Intelligence.’ All these underscore that a key intention of US policy is that the design of AI mirrors America’s geopolitical leadership, cultural norms, ethics and jurisprudence. A similar line of argument applies to Europe and China. In Europe, the first clause of the European Union (2024) AI Act says its purpose is to lay ‘a uniform legal framework’ for AI development and deployment ‘in accordance with Union values’ (Section 1) and it supports the ‘European human-centric approach to AI and being a global leader’ in AI development (Section 8). In China, there is the Generative AI Measures released in August 2023. The regulation includes a stipulation that generative AI technologies should not produce content that incite the ‘subversion of national sovereignty or the overturn of the socialist system’ (Henshall, 2023: para. 2). The same ethos is evident in China’s 2023 Management of Deep Synthesis of Internet information Services enacted by the Cyberspace Administration of China (2022). It mandates that in developing products such as AI, companies must abide by Chinese laws, correct political direction and value orientation. This was clearly evident in the January 2025 roll out of DeepSeek, a China-based AI assistant, which when asked about Tiananmen Square, refused to answer, saying it follows ‘ethical guidelines’ and added: ‘I respect the laws and cultural contexts in which I operate’ (author’s conversation with DeepSeek). It goes to show that expansive or restrictive design and deployment of AI technologies are subject to the value system prevalent in their originating countries. Hence, the politics of locationality sustains the different visions that leading tech countries have of AI in their battle for supremacy – visions that are not necessarily inclusive of African perspectives even though they find expression on the continent through pervasive deployment and usage. Conclusion In this paper, I have examined the importance of the location of AI companies and, by so doing, introduced the politics of locationality as a concept to extend our understanding and explain the standing that nations have in AI development and how this translates to the influence they wield in AI governance. My discussion showed that although Africa has a growing AI startup ecosystem, a burgeoning user market base and state influence in policymaking, the continent still faces a mix of disadvantages in historical, technological, political, legal, economic, labour and data spheres. This mix reveals the locational disadvantage that confronts Africa as a place from which AI ethics, cultures and governance can be shaped in the global sense. It relates to Hassan’s (2023) point on the ‘lack of African AI innovations that are rooted in the local context but [have] the potential to compete at the global scale’ (p. 1430). What I found was that AI companies that have global scale and presence are headquartered mainly in leading tech countries (the US, China and European nations) and have subjected themselves to the governing laws of these countries. Conversely, the laws and policies of leading tech countries mandate that these companies, among other things, embed the respective country’s ethos, values and cultures into AI systems. The link between AI systems and cultural values as outlined in this paper, therefore, points to the connection between media and cultural studies and AI. In particular, the paper highlights the importance of considering how AI is produced and shaped by cultural understandings, and how AI further projects, shapes and extends culture. It suggests the need for greater research emphasis on the connections between media, AI and culture, given that AI represents the intersection of human labour, machine learning, infrastructure (e.g. data centres), mineral resources (e.g. lithium), media inputs (vast troves of data: information, texts, pictures, videos, maps, and codes) and classification systems that all combine to transform AI models into mechanics of knowledge construction (Crawford, 2021). The outcome are mediated outputs (e.g. AI responses to prompts and automated decisions) – outputs that simultaneously represent and transform culture, even as they are shaped by it. Equally crucial and more important, in the context of this paper, is the need to consider the locationality of it all. By this I mean the globalised and complex interaction of locations in AI development and governance that potentially determines whose culture is elevated and whose culture is progressively silenced in a relationship defined by hegemony and inequality. Key to understanding this hegemony-inequality mix is the principle of locational advantage, which Iammarino and McCann (2013) describe as a two-way relationship between multinationals and their locational headquarters, noting that just as location is becoming increasingly vital for multinationals, so also are multinationals progressively more important for location (i.e. cities or countries). It underscores my argument on the politics of locationality, which shows that just as large AI firms need locations, such as the US or China, that have the right mix of advantages to serve as headquarters, so also do leading tech countries need and use these firms in setting the cultural and governance paradigm for AI technologies. This structural makeup reflects the imbalances in AI development, explaining why AI governance systems exist within institutional-heterogenous regimes that reproduce Global North dominance (Png, 2022). Addressing these imbalances is what African countries, supported by the AU, should focus on, and there are initial signs that African countries are starting to do this (as seen in the AI strategies). However, a bolder and more robust approach to AI development that is attuned to Africa’s unique sociopolitical context and economic evolution is needed to confront the imbalances tied to the politics of locationality. By so doing, Africa can be positioned to assume locational advantage, with important consequences for inclusive AI and the contribution of global majority countries to the cultures and values embedded in AI systems and the ethics and frameworks by which they are governed. AcknowledgmentsThe author extends appreciation to the editors and reviewers for their helpful and constructive comments, and also to the participants at the 2023 International Symposium on AI Cultures at the University of Turin for their feedback – all of which strengthened the article.Declaration of conflicting interestsThe author declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.FundingThe author disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: This work was supported by the Leverhulme Trust as part of an Early Career Fellowship. 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In Latin America, Cuba, Nicaragua, and Venezuela are not alone in their support for Russia and its invasion of Ukraine. In many cases, support has been disguised as an interest in peace or a neutral stance towards the conflict, as seen in the cases of Colombia, Mexico, and Brazil. While we find manifold diplomatic approaches toward Russia and Ukraine in Latin America, the underlying motivations can be understood in terms of support or rejection. While a majority of nations reject the invasion, considering it a threat to territorial sovereignty and self-determination, others have been reluctant to place any blame on Russia. More broadly, there has been less of an ideological bloc and more of an anti-imperialist or anti-colonial sentiment, with a few exceptions, such as Gabrie Boric from Chile who has publicly repudiated Russia’s aggression against Ukraine. His opposition is a departure from other Latin American leftist leaders like Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva and Gustavo Francisco Petro who have been more critical of Volodymyr Zelensky than Vladimir Putin. However, we can still identify three distinctive approaches to the crisis: 1) geopolitical, 2) economic, and 3) historical. The region has a keen interest in keeping its doors open to Russia. BRICS members like Brazil have managed to maintain their alleged neutrality in the pursuit of peace—even as President Lula has explicitly supported  Putin—while simultaneously protecting their economic interests. Others like Colombia and Mexico have shielded their unwillingness to condemn Putin’s invasion of Ukraine in an apparent push for peace. On the economic front, attitudes towards Russia are more tenuous given that Russia’s capability for foreign direct investment has been significantly reduced by the brunt of the war, along with the impact of the economic sanctions that followed their aggression. To be sure, Russia’s investments in the region have been winding down for some time, with a decreasing profile in areas such as energy, oil, and gas, as well as software and IT. However, the economic ties are more significant in the cases of Cuba, Nicaragua, and Venezuela—where they are joined more by their subjection to economic sanctions, and therefore the necessity to evade the consequences of economic isolation. There are specific areas key to this alliance: Russian fertilisers, along with oil and diesel, are critical to bypassing Western sanctions. Meanwhile, historical ties are more consequential than is commonly understood. Misinterpretations of Russia’s Soviet past by leftist-governed Latin American countries and longstanding social and cultural commonalities partially explain the continued support from diverse leaders such as Lula and Jair Bolsonaro in Brazil. These ties, rooted in shared anti-colonial sentiments and cultivated over decades, and regardless of ideological shifts, illustrate Russia’s multifaceted regional influence. This context underscores the fact that Russia’s regional impact transcends ideological lines, with both left and right-wing governments either explicitly supporting Russia or criticising Ukraine’s NATO aspirations to justify Russia’s aggression. The return of Donald Trump to the White House has prominent leaders of the Latin American left aligning with the new administration, resulting in significant consequences for the region. The new US administration’s criticism of Kyiv resonates with positions held by Brazil, Mexico, Colombia, Cuba, and Nicaragua. Despite ideological differences, their alignment emerges from a mix of political affinities, geopolitical strategies, and historical connections. Putin’s explicit defiance of Donald Trump’s negotiation efforts raises questions about Latin America’s influence over the conflict, largely due to its initial reluctance to adopt a decisive stance against Putin. The lonely voice condemning Putin’s war of attrition continues to be Chilean President Gabriel Boric, in stark contrast to Lula DaSilva and Gustavo Petro, who remain in Putin’s corner, making it unlikely they can be viewed as honest brokers in a peace initiative. Trump’s policies have prompted Brazil and Colombia to voice limited concerns about US plans for Ukraine, although still refraining from outright condemnation of Russia. This stance appears less a genuine support for Ukraine and more an opposition to US involvement in peace processes, even blaming Ukraine as partially responsible. Meanwhile, ideology alone has proven insufficient to prompt unified condemnation of Russia or widespread support for Ukraine in Latin America. Previous efforts by the Biden administration to secure regional military assistance for Ukraine were met with firm rejection and reluctance. This distancing, interpreted as tacit support for Russia, contributes to concerns about increasing authoritarian tendencies in the region, reflecting a diminished commitment to emerging democracies in crisis. Effectively abandoned by the international community, Ukraine faces negotiations with nations seeking its valuable earth minerals in exchange for protection, essentially framing it within a debt relief context. The absence of significant Latin American critique of this neocolonial approach underscores a troubling shift where sovereignty and self-determination appear increasingly disposable, contingent upon geopolitical interests and contexts. Maria I. Puerta Riera is a Visiting Professor of Political Science at Valencia College in Orlando, FL., where she teaches U.S. Government and International Politics. She holds a PhD. in Social Sciences, with her research focusing on the crises of democracies in Latin America. She has a special interest in Venezuela, Cuba, and Nicaragua, and is currently working on the effects of the illiberal regimes of China and Russia and their use of sharp power in the region. This article is published under a Creative Commons License and may be republished with attribution.

In the Middle East, China seeks to appear neutral by engaging in dialogue with all actors, from Tehran to Tel Aviv, including Riyadh. Beijing's objective is clear: to establish itself as a guarantor of stability to secure its energy and commercial interests. The People's Republic of China's (PRC) commitment to the Middle East reflects a carefully calibrated geostrategic approach, aiming to preserve regional stability, ensure uninterrupted access to energy resources, and promote its famous Belt and Road Initiative (BRI), also known as the 'New Silk Roads.' In this region, the Sino-Iranian relationship is most often highlighted due to its political weight and military dimension; however, whether in economic, diplomatic, or strategic terms, Beijing's presence in this area certainly extends beyond its ties with Tehran. As elsewhere in the world, in the Middle East, China divides its diplomatic partnerships into several types, listed here in descending order of intensity: "global strategic partnerships" (in the Middle East: Egypt, Iran, Saudi Arabia, United Arab Emirates, and Bahrain); "strategic partnerships" (Iraq, Jordan, Kuwait, Oman, Qatar, Syria, Turkey, and the Palestinian Authority); "friendly cooperation partnerships" (Lebanon and Yemen); and finally, "innovative global partnerships" (Israel). China is redefining its priorities in the Middle East  Energy dependence is one of the essential drivers of China's policy in the region. Gulf countries, particularly Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, and Kuwait, are among the main suppliers of crude oil to the PRC—well ahead of Iran in terms of volume, as well as reliability and investment opportunities. This economic reality compels China to invest much more heavily in the Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) countries, where financial stability, political predictability, and institutional openness promote sustainable strategic partnerships and infrastructure development, unlike in Iran. For these reasons, the Gulf countries have indirectly become essential nodes in the architecture of the BRI through trade, receiving nearly six times more Chinese investments than Iran. Although Iran has geographical interest as a potential corridor between China and Europe, the persistent effect of international sanctions, poor economic management, and regional adventurism severely limit its ability to attract sustainable Chinese investments. In contrast, Israel offers a functioning and favorable environment for investors, making it a preferred destination for Chinese capital and infrastructure projects. Its economy is based on solid infrastructure and a dynamic technology sector. Despite geopolitical shocks, including the recent clashes with Iran – which will undoubtedly impact the country's business environment – Israel, as a member of the OECD, remains attractive in terms of business environment and investment, mainly because the foundations of its economic environment are stronger than those of Iran or Saudi Arabia. The Hebrew state occupies an increasing place within the BRI – not due to the volume of Chinese direct investments, but because of its strategic position and ambitious infrastructure agenda. Its geographical location – straddling Europe, Asia, and Africa via the Mediterranean – makes it a key land and maritime connectivity point that provides an alternative option to Iran for linking China to Europe. In this context, China and Israel have made progress in their negotiations for a free trade agreement that has been discussed since 2016. Although discussions have been suspended since 2023, there remains hope that an agreement could be signed once stability returns to the region. China's trade with Israel and Iran: divergent trajectories China's commercial relations with Israel and Iran reveal two distinct economic approaches.  With Israel, trade is increasingly marked by imports of high technologies - particularly in the semiconductor field - reflecting a growing technological interdependence.  In contrast, trade with Iran remains focused on industrial goods and natural resources, illustrating a more traditional partnership based on access to raw materials. These contrasting dynamics reflect China's strategic flexibility, which relies on Israeli innovation while securing its supplies from Iran.  Tensions in the Strait of Hormuz are testing China's strategy in Iran  For nearly fifty years, Iran has turned to China for economic support. However, despite 21 Chinese greenfield investment projects between 2003 and 2020 – mainly in the energy sector – Beijing has gradually begun to disengage due to international sanctions and ongoing regional instability. Large companies such as CNPC and Sinopec have reduced their stake, or even abandoned some projects, while tech companies like Huawei and Lenovo have also scaled back their presence in the Iranian market. Between 2017 and 2019, Iran reportedly saw an outflow of Chinese capital estimated at $990 million. China views instability in the Middle East, particularly the confrontation between Israel and Iran, as a direct threat to its economic and commercial interests. As the world's largest buyer of Iranian oil, China is especially concerned about potential disruptions in strategic maritime routes, particularly the Strait of Hormuz. In June 2025, Chinese oil imports from Iran significantly increased, reaching up to 1.8 million barrels per day – a surge that occurred just before the military escalation between Israel and Iran, which raised concerns about the security of the Strait of Hormuz. A sign of the weight of the PRC in this region: after the reciprocal airstrikes between Israel and Iran, and Tehran's threat to close this crucial passage, U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio urged Beijing to intervene, emphasizing China's heavy dependence on this oil route. China–United States: strategic tensions in a transitioning Middle East China and the United States recently signed a trade agreement and established a 90-day tariff truce, aiming to resolve some key disputes and stabilize economic relations. Furthermore, on the military front, Iran and China signed a military cooperation agreement as early as 2016, reflecting their mutual desire to counter American influence in the region and secure trade routes. Historically, China has supported Iran through arms sales, technology transfers, and training programs. Moreover, despite the official rhetoric, some reports suggest that Chinese technologies have contributed to the development of Iran's ballistic program. The Sino-Iranian relationship in defense illustrates a two-level diplomacy: China discreetly supports Iran's military autonomy while ensuring it does not compromise its strategic relationships with other important regional partners, including Israel, with whom it also maintains top-level security dialogues. This highlights Beijing's broader ambition: to avoid regional polarizations and maintain a balance of power favorable to its interests. China's strategy in the Middle East towards the United States is based on a principle of equidistance: to increase its influence without direct confrontation, while drawing strategic benefits from Saudi Arabia, Israel, Iran, and Egypt. In this perspective, the People's Republic of China does not seek to replace the United States as the dominant power in the region, but rather to offer a multipolar presence focused on preserving stability. Maintaining the status quo, avoiding direct conflicts, and building a parallel system of influence through infrastructure, trade, and diplomacy are the pillars of China's position in the Middle East. This approach ensures Beijing secure access to energy, trade corridors, and sustainable geopolitical influence from Tel Aviv to Tehran.

The recent conflict between Iran and Israel, irrespective of its military and security ramifications, marks the genesis of a new phase in Iran’s engagement with the world. This has the potential not only to alter the regional balance but also to redefine the trajectory of Iran’s nuclear program, its sanctions regime, and its diplomatic capacities. While many anticipated that this confrontation would escalate political and economic pressures on Iran, certain strategic realities and diplomatic indicators suggest that, conversely, this crisis might initiate a recalibration in international policy concerning Iran. Ostensibly, the Western alliance continues to voice concerns about Iran’s nuclear program. However, at deeper levels, the question arises: if Iran’s key nuclear facilities have been targeted and completely obliterated, what justification remains for continuing “maximum pressure“? Does this situation, despite its inherent difficulties, not present an opportunity for Iran to enter a new phase of diplomatic play without explicitly signaling retreat? A phase where novel tools, such as collaboration with third countries, the strategic use of silence, and intelligent avoidance of direct negotiation, could supersede the exhaustive path of the past. This analysis endeavors to present a clear and comprehensive picture of the sanctions landscape, the outlook for a potential agreement, and innovative diplomatic avenues for Iran post-conflict. The central question is whether Iran can leverage this crisis into an opportunity to restore its economic and strategic standing, or if the post-conflict environment will merely exacerbate the challenges in its engagement with the world. To begin with, the logic of sanctions has always rested on a simple principle: to generate pressure for behavioral change. However, this logic is deemed effective only when the sanctioned entity retains maneuverability or the motivation to resist. Now, following an attack that the U.S. claims to have inflicted on sensitive parts of Iran’s nuclear infrastructure, a clear contradiction has emerged in Western sanctions policy: if Iran is no longer capable of quickly returning to a high level of nuclear activity, what is the meaning and justification for continuing a policy of maximum pressure? From the perspective of independent observers, this juncture could represent a strategic rupture. Maximum pressure is justifiable when Iran is on an escalating trajectory with its nuclear program and the technical balance of power is shifting in Tehran’s favor. However, if, as claimed by the opposing side, Iran’s nuclear capability has been set back, then maintaining the sanctions structure would be less an instrument of foreign policy and more an indication of the aimlessness and inertia within the U.S. policymaking apparatus. Under such circumstances, some circles in Tehran speak of the necessity of adopting “intelligent silence.” This approach, instead of sharp reactions or widespread propaganda, relies on leveraging strategic ambiguity and granting itself time. This is particularly relevant if conditions arise where the West, to maintain the appearance of their operation’s success, is compelled to temporarily halt or alleviate pressures. In this scenario, Iran, without abandoning its principled positions, could create space for a recalibration of international actors’ behavior. The critical point is that sanctions are effective only when dynamically linked to a specific objective. If the goal was to alter nuclear behavior, and that behavior is now contained, then the continuation of sanctions is not a tool of statecraft but a sign of the absence of an alternative strategy. Iran can exploit this contradiction, provided it accurately comprehends the changing strategic landscape and avoids falling into the trap of hasty reactions. Building on this evolving dynamic, the recent conflict not only disrupted strategic calculations in Tehran and Tel Aviv but also palpably darkened the political and diplomatic atmosphere between Iran and the West. Prior to this conflict, although indirect nuclear negotiations between Iran and the U.S. were proceeding in a fragile silence, avenues for reviving the 2015 agreement (JCPOA) were still conceivable. Now, however, following explicit military threats from the U.S. and its overt role alongside Israel, even this fragile path has been severely questioned. In Tehran, many analysts believe that the strategy of appeasement and cautious engagement with the West regarding the nuclear dossier requires reconsideration. The recent military threats posed by Washington and its allies, more than being psychological pressure, carried an operational message—a message that effectively put those political elites in Iran who had always dismissed Western threats as mere rhetoric into a position of weakness. It is now acknowledged that complete disregard for threats can be costly for the country. Consequently, the decision-making discourse in Tehran has undergone a new realism: neither complete appeasement nor hasty confrontation; rather, the management of the balance between threat and opportunity. Nevertheless, direct negotiation with the U.S. remains a red line that is rooted not only in domestic politics but also intrinsically linked to Iran’s strategic prestige. On the other hand, the Trump administration faces domestic challenges and electoral constraints and does not wish to enter a process, on the eve of elections, that could be interpreted by its domestic opponents as “conceding to Tehran.” This is particularly true given that the recent conflict has created a more aggressive image of Iran in Western public opinion, an image that significantly complicates the space for flexible diplomacy. Given this diplomatic deadlock, traditional options are practically defunct. Neither the Vienna path is effective, nor do the Omani or Qatari channels operate with the same ease as before. Therefore, either innovative models must be considered—or it must be accepted that the agreement, in its previous form, has reached a historical dead end, and the time has come for a new architectural approach to engagement. One such idea is the adoption of a “third-party commitment” model, which could resolve part of the nuclear and sanctions crisis without requiring a direct agreement with the U.S. In this model, Iran could entrust a portion of its nuclear technical and supervisory commitments, through bilateral or multilateral agreements, to regional third countries such as Qatar, Oman, or Saudi Arabia. These countries, which maintain more balanced relations with Washington, could act as guarantors of these commitments and, simultaneously, negotiate with the U.S. government for specific sanctions waivers to facilitate economic and banking cooperation with Iran. For instance, Tehran could agree with Saudi Arabia or Qatar that part of the oversight process for enrichment or peaceful nuclear activities would be pursued through structures supervised by these countries or joint regional bodies. In return, these countries could receive licenses from the U.S. Treasury, Office of Foreign Assets Control (OFAC) to participate in energy, banking, or transportation projects with Iran. This model, while circumventing the political sensitivities of direct negotiation, could provide a limited breathing space for Iran’s economy at the technical and executive levels. Another advantage of this approach is the strengthening of Iran’s regional position through the institutionalization of cooperation with its neighbors. Such a model transforms Iran’s image from a threatening actor to a cooperative partner, and effectively, contrary to Israel’s narrative, leaves the path open for regional dialogue. Evidently, this model is not without challenges, including Iran’s need to gain the trust of these countries, provide sufficient technical and legal guarantees, and prevent Israeli maneuvering aimed at disrupting this process. However, in the current circumstances, “third-party commitment” is one of the few options that can overcome the current impasse without imposing the heavy costs of a direct agreement. To fully grasp the broader diplomatic calculus, one must look beyond regional conflicts and into the structural shifts within global geopolitics. For a precise analysis of U.S. sanctions and diplomatic behavior towards Iran, it is insufficient to focus solely on military skirmishes or rhetorical threats. Official and semi-official U.S. foreign policy documents in recent years clearly indicate that Washington’s strategic priority is not Iran, nor even the Middle East, but rather containing China in global competition. This prioritization has created a divergence between verbal threats and the actual U.S. willingness for military engagement or even sustained maximum pressure. Although Washington symbolically and periodically sided with Tel Aviv in the recent Iran-Israel conflict, it was never eager for direct military involvement. In fact, many American analysts warned that drawing the U.S. into a new war in the Middle East would divert the country’s strategic focus from containing China, controlling Taiwan, and technological-economic competition with East Asia. In this vein, the Trump administration—contrary to the traditional perception of its aggressive policy—is disinclined towards costly and protracted wars in the Middle East. Even during his first term as president, he emphasized the withdrawal of troops from the region, reducing foreign expenditures, and focusing on the domestic economy. Therefore, although his policy towards Iran appears more hostile on the surface, in practice, he might prefer an option for managing tension without war; a model that could include maximum economic pressure, occasional threats, and perhaps even a show negotiation, but not direct engagement. Taken together, these factors—shifting U.S. priorities, regional recalibrations, and tactical innovation—suggest that the recent Iran-Israel conflict was a turning point that not only impacted the regional security balance but also provided an opportunity to revisit the path of sanctions, diplomacy, and nuclear policies. Contrary to popular belief, this war may have transformed into a saturation point in the West’s sanctions logic, rather than merely an excuse to intensify pressure—a point where continued pressure, without a clear objective, amounts to strategic self-sabotage. On the other hand, Trump’s return to power, with all its sharp and symbolic implications, conceals a contradictory reality: this president might be less inclined than any of his predecessors to engage in a costly war in the Middle East. The prioritization of China, domestic economy, and Trump’s transactional approach all indicate that Iran can utilize the existing environment to design a new path, one that does not necessarily lead to a classic agreement, but rather to smart tension management through informal and regionally focused tools. In this context, initiatives such as third-party commitments, leveraging neighbors’ capacities to reduce pressure, and pursuing a policy of strategic silence and ambiguity can enable Iran to redefine its economic and diplomatic trajectory – and to do so without retreat, without costly negotiations, and without falling into the trap of zero-sum games. However, success on this path requires several fundamental preconditions: (1) a precise understanding of strategic changes in the US; (2) realism in confronting new threats without succumbing to emotional reactions; (3) intelligent coordination among domestic decision-making bodies; and finally (4) revival of Iran’s economic and regional diplomatic capacity with the aim of exploiting limited but important opportunities. Ultimately, the fundamental question is not whether a grand agreement is imminent or if sanctions will be lifted overnight. The question is whether Iran, at this historical juncture, can calmly, precisely, and with an integrated view of security, economy, and diplomacy, transform the crisis into a platform for recalibrating its role in the regional and global order. The answer to this question depends not merely on external developments, but on the will and initiative within Iran. The text of this work is licensed under  a Creative Commons CC BY-NC 4.0 license.