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Beijing’s Victory Day parade in Tiananmen Square was designed to dazzle: ranks of uniformed troops, formations of aircraft, and an arsenal of new systems meant to underscore China’s rapid military modernization. But the most consequential image was not a missile or a stealth jet. It was a tableau of three leaders—Xi Jinping at the center, flanked by Vladimir Putin and Kim Jong Un—watching the spectacle together. The scene, widely broadcast and photographed, turned a commemorative event into a geopolitical marker. It was less a snapshot than a signal: the public normalization of a deepening alignment among China, Russia, and North Korea, at a moment when Western democracies are struggling to sustain cohesion on core strategic questions. The parade itself offered the familiar mixture of hardware and narrative. Coverage highlighted the unveiling or public confirmation of advanced systems across domains: upgraded intercontinental missiles, new submarine-launched ballistic missiles, hypersonic and anti-ship capabilities, long-range bombers, early warning aircraft, and a broad stable of unmanned platforms, including undersea vehicles and “loyal wingman” drones. Chinese media presented these developments as evidence of a “world-class” People’s Liberation Army (PLA) moving beyond legacy constraints and into truly multi-domain operations, with information, space, and cyber now integrated alongside land, sea, and air. Independent reporting catalogued the breadth of systems and emphasized a narrative of credible deterrence and strategic depth rather than mere choreography. Yet the more instructive message was political. The presence of Putin and Kim, alongside other leaders, was not a mere ceremonial occurrence. Each leader arrived with clear incentives to be seen at Xi’s side, and each gained by lending visual weight to Beijing’s story. For Moscow, the image reinforced the claim that Russia is not isolated, that it retains powerful partners and is embedded in a wider non-Western coalition. For Pyongyang, the moment was even more significant: an opportunity to step out of diplomatic isolation and be recognized publicly as a member of a consequential strategic grouping. For Beijing, hosting both leaders signaled that China can convene and coordinate—projecting status, reassuring sympathetic governments, and unsettling adversaries by hinting at a tighter web of cooperation among U.S. rivals. The convergence behind the optics has been building for years, and could have happened only on Chinese soil. China and Russia have expanded their coordination across energy, defense, and diplomatic, even as they preserve maneuvering room on sensitive issues. North Korea’s accelerating exchanges with Russia, alongside growing political warmth with Beijing, provide a third leg to this emerging tripod. None of this amounts to a formal alliance with mutual defense obligations. But it does resemble a strategic alignment held together by shared interests: resisting a U.S.-led order, blunting sanctions pressure, reducing vulnerability to Western technology restrictions, and demonstrating that alternatives exist to dollar-centric finance and Western supply chains. The choreography on the rostrum did not create this alignment; it made it more legible and clear. Memory politics is a key component of that legibility. Beijing’s decision to anchor the parade in the commemoration of victory over Japan allows contemporary power projection to be cloaked in a unifying moral narrative. China increasingly leverages World War II memory in diplomacy—shaping a “memory war” that reframes the post-1945 order and what is seen from China as its rightful place within it. Russia’s long-standing use of the “Great Patriotic War” plays a parallel role, justifying current policies through selective historical continuity. North Korea’s revolutionary mythology fits easily into this narrative architecture. By standing together at an anniversary of anti-fascist victory, the three leaders signaled an ideational convergence that complements their material cooperation: a claim to moral legitimacy as guardians of an alternative international vision. The military dimension of the parade, while not the core of this argument, still matters. Displays of a maturing triad—land-based ICBMs, submarine-launched systems, and an air-launched nuclear component—aim to convey survivable second-strike capacity. The public presentation of hypersonic and anti-ship systems is meant to complicate adversary planning in the Western Pacific. The range of unmanned platforms suggests an intent to saturate domains with relatively low-cost, attritable assets, improving persistence and compressing the sensor-to-shooter loop. It is prudent to treat parades cautiously: not all showcased systems are fully operational or fielded at scale, and performance claims are difficult to validate. But as an indicator, the breadth and integration of platforms reflect a planning culture committed to joint operations and “intelligentized” warfare, where AI-enabled targeting and decision support are not theoretical ambitions but programmatic priorities What, then, does the image of Xi–Putin–Kim actually change? First, it clarifies expectations. Observers no longer need to infer the trajectory of this triangular relationship from scattered bilateral overtures. The three leaders have chosen to make their alignment visible. Visibility creates deterrent value, raising the perceived costs of coercing any one member, and it can also facilitate practical cooperation: intelligence sharing, diplomatic coordination at the UN and other fora, synchronized signaling during regional crises, and mutually reinforcing sanctions-evasion practices. Second, it complicates Western planning. Even if Beijing keeps caution around direct military assistance in Europe or the Korean Peninsula, diplomatic top-cover, economic buffering, and technology flows short of lethal aid can still alter the correlation of forces over time. Finally, it resonates across the Global South. Many governments seek strategic autonomy and resist being forced into binary choices. The parade’s optics supplied a ready-made narrative for those who argue that the international system is already multipolar and that non-Western coalitions can deliver security and development without Western tutelage. The contrast with Western coordination was strikingly evident. In the transatlantic community, support for Ukraine remains substantial; however, debates about resource levels, war aims, and timelines have intensified. In the Indo-Pacific, there is a growing alignment on deterring coercion in the Taiwan Strait and the South China Sea; however, national economic interests and differing risk tolerances result in uneven policies toward China. Across Europe and North America, electoral politics continue to inject volatility into foreign policy, complicating efforts to sustain long-term, bipartisan strategies. None of these frictions amounts to collapse, and there are genuine Western successes in coalition-building—from NATO enlargement to evolving minilateral formats in the Indo-Pacific. However, an analytically honest reading of the moment acknowledges that the authoritarian trio in Beijing has projected a unity of purpose that Western capitals currently struggle to match consistently. Three implications follow. The first is narrative competition. If Beijing, Moscow, and Pyongyang can turn a commemorative event into a global story about legitimacy and resilience, they will continue to use history as a strategic resource. The appropriate Western response is not to cede the narrative field but to invest in historically grounded, forward-looking messaging that explains the link between rules-based order and practical benefits—trade reliability, crisis management, and sovereignty protection—for diverse audiences. The second is coalition maintenance. Western policymakers will need to prioritize “coalition hygiene”: aligning export controls and investment screening where it matters most; building redundancy into critical supply chains; closing divergences in sanctions enforcement; and coordinating messaging so that tactical differences do not obscure strategic alignment. This requires political discipline more than new institutions. The third is theater integration. As the Beijing image suggested a cross-regional understanding among three adversarial capitals, allied planning must better account for cross-theater linkages—how actions in Europe affect deterrence in Asia, and vice versa—and ensure that resource allocations and industrial policies reflect genuinely global prioritization. It is important not to overstate. The emerging alignment among China, Russia, and North Korea is asymmetric and interest-based, not a tightly binding alliance. Beijing’s global economic integration imposes constraints that Moscow and Pyongyang do not share. Russia and North Korea each bring liabilities that China will manage carefully. Frictions—over technology, pricing, and regional equities—will persist. But the threshold crossed in Beijing is nonetheless meaningful. These governments judged that the benefits of public proximity now outweigh the costs. That judgment, once made, is difficult to reverse quickly; it tends to generate its own momentum through bureaucratic follow-through and sunk reputational costs. One image cannot rewrite the balance of power. It can, however, crystallize a trend and concentrate minds. The sight of Xi, Putin, and Kim standing together did exactly that. It captured an authoritarian convergence rooted in shared grievances and converging strategies, and it highlighted the challenge facing democracies that wish to preserve an open and stable order: maintaining the patience, unity, and policy discipline to act together. The test for the West is less whether it recognizes the signal—most capitals do—than whether it can convert recognition into sustained, collective action. If Beijing’s parade was a demonstration of choreography and intent, the appropriate answer is not a counter-parade, but the quieter work of alignment: aligning narratives with interests, interests with instruments, and instruments with partners. That work is not glamorous. It is, however, what turns a photo into policy.

For several years, Egypt – which recently announced that Hamas had accepted a ceasefire proposal negotiated in Cairo – has been playing a mediating role in the conflict in Gaza. As the only Arab country sharing a border with the Palestinian enclave, Egypt pursues strategic objectives that combine security concerns and domestic constraints – goals that are under pressure from Israel's expansionist policy. In the absence of a diplomatic solution, the situation in Gaza could have unpredictable consequences for the regime of Abdel Fattah Al-Sisi, whose options, in the face of public opinion, remain limited to avoid the accusation of indifference and to mask its impotence against Tel Aviv. On August 18th, the announcement of a ceasefire accepted by Hamas, negotiated in Cairo based on a U.S. plan, highlighted the mediating role played by the Egyptian authorities in the war waged by Israel in Gaza. This role remains essential, even though Qatar's actions have often received more media attention due to the emirate's proximity to Hamas. A key and historical role as a mediator  Without going back to the creation of the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) or the Egyptian-Israeli peace agreements of 1979, Cairo has long been an essential player in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict due to its negotiation capacity between Israel and the Palestinians. Hosni Mubarak's Egypt (1981-2011) played a major role in most agreements concluded between the PLO and Israel after Oslo (1993) and was active in maintaining a channel of discussion with Israel during the Second Intifada (2000-2005). After Hamas's victory in the Palestinian legislative elections of 2006 and its takeover of Gaza in 2007, Egypt intervened in bilateral negotiations both between Hamas and Fatah and between Hamas and Israel during the conflicts of 2008-2009, 2012, 2014, and 2021, in which the victims were mostly civilians. The rise to power of Abdel Fattah Al-Sisi in 2014, following the overthrow of President Mohamed Morsi (2013), who was from the Muslim Brotherhood, created tensions with Hamas, which is close to the Islamist movement. Adjustments were necessary, but Egyptian intelligence maintained a discreet connection with Hamas and continued to carry out mediation missions with Israel or with Mahmoud Abbas's Palestinian Authority. Since October 7, 2023, alongside Qatar and the United States (the only actor able to pressure Israel), Egypt is once again at the heart of negotiations, whether they take place in Doha or Cairo. A first agreement under the sponsorship of the three states was reached in January 2025. Previously, in December 2024, Egypt had negotiated an agreement between Fatah and Hamas to establish an autonomous administration at the end of the war. A red line against Israeli expansionism?  In recent days, in light of Israel's expansionist policy, Egypt has made numerous statements regarding the situation in Gaza. The authorities in Cairo have expressed support for the establishment of an international peacekeeping force mandated by the UN, while denying rumors that they had proposed a transfer of Hamas's weapons to Egypt. In Rafah (Egypt), in an interview with CNN, Foreign Minister Badr Abdelatty reaffirmed the rejection of a massive relocation of Palestinians, which he described as a 'red line.'  Earlier, President Al-Sisi had crossed a rhetorical threshold by denouncing a 'war of famine and genocide' and reiterated his refusal of any relocation plan. Egypt is also supporting the South African complaint to the International Court of Justice for violation of the Genocide Convention, without joining the stakeholders. These statements come in a dual context of a blockage of negotiations and an acceleration of Israeli operations, with Israeli territorial ambitions that could signify the end of any possibility for a two-state solution and a massive displacement of people outside of Palestine, particularly towards Egypt. The ceasefire negotiated in Cairo by Egyptian and Qatari mediators largely echoed the plan of Donald Trump's special envoy, Steve Witkoff, and thus represents a real advancement compared to the situation in early June, when the United States, along with Israel, had rejected the proposal made by Hamas to implement a truce. An advancement that, however, has not resulted in a breakthrough: a week later, Israel has still not responded to the negotiators' proposal. The announcement of the ceasefire accepted by Hamas comes as the Israeli security cabinet approved, on August 8, a plan to take control of Gaza and as the UN, after several warnings, declared a state of famine in the Gaza Strip. Various Egyptian statements also resonate with the vision of a 'Greater Israel' recently put forward by Benjamin Netanyahu, referring to the biblical borders of Israel that include territories currently belonging to Jordan, Lebanon, and Syria, as well as part of the Sinai Peninsula. The idea of relocating the Palestinian population outside of Gaza is not new, although it has been rather marginal until now. Recently, Netanyahu has publicly considered relocating Gazans to Arab countries or Africa (negotiations in this regard have been mentioned several times). The Sinai, a key security issue for Egypt  Egypt, which shares a 14-kilometer border with the Palestinian enclave, the "Philadelphian corridor," is also a security player because it plays a key role, almost literally, in the blockade imposed by Israel on the Gaza Strip (both in terms of its maintenance and/or its easing).  In this regard, Abdel Fattah Al-Sisi's Egypt is not spared from criticism that denounces its inaction while, on the other side of the border, the war waged by Israel increasingly resembles ethnic cleansing, if not genocide.  The grievances are numerous and particularly concern the blocking of supplies at the Rafah crossing into Palestinian territory, the security treatment reserved for Gaza refugees – about 100,000 Palestinians have sought refuge in Egypt since the beginning of the war, paying high fees to the Hala company, which specializes in the 'coordination' of the Rafah crossing – as well as the security management of pro-Gaza protests, both in Cairo and in Sinai. It should be noted that Egypt administered Gaza from 1948 to 1967, before the strip came under Israeli control. Since then, Cairo's stance towards Gaza has always been deeply influenced by the situation in Sinai, a large desert area where the border between Egypt and Gaza is located. Occupied by Israel in 1967 following the Six-Day War (at the same time as the Gaza Strip), Sinai was recovered by Egypt in 1982. Underdeveloped territory with inadequate infrastructure, Sinai has been, for decades, a trafficking zone between Egypt, Israel, and Gaza.   As can be seen on this map, it is in the extreme northeast of the Sinai Peninsula that the border between Egypt and the Gaza Strip is located. Peter Hermes Furian/Shutterstock After 2011, a local jihadist movement, which joined the Islamic State in 2014, thrived there before being gradually contained by the Egyptian army after a "dirty war" that resulted in several thousand casualties (more than 3,200 deaths among security forces, while the number of civilian casualties is unknown). Sisi proclaimed victory in 2023, with operations ending between 2019 and 2020. For Cairo, the management of Gaza is primarily a security issue. It involves containing trafficking, preventing the infiltration of armed groups more radical than Hamas, the most active of which is the Islamic Jihad, and avoiding an influx of Palestinian refugees, due to its logistical inability to organize such reception. Beyond the logistical question, Egyptian leaders fear a situation that could turn into a de facto state. They have in mind the Lebanese and Jordanian precedents, where the settlement of Palestinian refugees led to the events of Black September in the Hashemite Kingdom and to the civil war in the Land of the Cedar. This position is longstanding. As early as 2008, the forced entry of thousands of Palestinians into Sinai was perceived as a transgression of national sovereignty, a repetition of which must be avoided "at all costs."  Nevertheless, Egypt denies participating in the blockade or being inactive in the face of the tragedy experienced by the Palestinians. President Sisi himself responded to these accusations, reminding that it is Israel that has bombed the Rafah crossing multiple times and controls the Palestinian side of Rafah. Israel, which withdrew from Gaza in 2005, regained control of the Philadelphia corridor in May 2024. Egyptian media, echoing the government's talking points, emphasize the humanitarian convoys sent from Egypt: over 45,000 trucks, accounting for 70% of humanitarian aid, have reportedly supplied Gaza since October 2023 (noting that the crossings can only occur with Israel's agreement and under its security conditions). Between external constraints and internal pressures On the Palestinian issue, Egypt advocates for the establishment of a Palestinian state within the framework of a two-state solution. This is a historical positioning, defined by Anwar El-Sadat in his speech to the Knesset in November 1978. It translates into diplomatic actions, but since 2008, each Israeli war in Gaza highlights the limited scope of Egyptian engagement. However, for Sisi, this engagement comes with domestic constraints. The desperate situation of Gazans resonates widely in Egypt as well as throughout the region and provokes a strong sense of solidarity. Here too, the Egyptian government is caught in its contradictions. For many Egyptians, Hamas is not so much a terrorist movement as a resistance movement against Israel: indeed, even Cairo has not classified it as a terrorist organization, unlike the Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood. On one hand, the Egyptian authorities repress any demonstration that they do not organize themselves and that could challenge the regime. There is a mistrust of the street that refers to the importance of mobilizations supporting Palestinians in the militant trajectory that led to the 2011 revolution. On the other hand, the president and the government must take into account public opinion’s sensitivity and show that they are not powerless. In this regard, accepting the relocation of Palestinians in Sinai would make them accomplices in the eyes of Egyptians. In any case, Egypt's role seems hardly able to go beyond humanitarian aid and diplomatic negotiations. Peace with Israel remains a pillar of Egyptian foreign policy. Cairo will not jeopardize its bilateral relationship with Israel to the point of threatening to enter into armed conflict with it. Not only for economic reasons, or because part of Egypt's gas supplies depend on Israel – even if these can represent a leverage. In many aspects, the alliance with Israel is crucial for Sisi: beyond the support that Netanyahu was able to provide him by pleading his case in Washington after the coup against Morsi (2013), the Hebrew state is an economic partner, but also a security partner in the fight against jihadist groups still present in the Sinai. While red lines are stated, no real threat has been made.  However, rumors from government sources had circulated in February 2024: they spoke of the threat of a suspension of the peace treaty in the event of an Israeli invasion of Rafah. Alas, Israeli troops have occupied the border area since May 2024 without Egypt reacting in any way other than verbally. It seems particularly unlikely that the Egyptian army could be mobilized to intervene outside of a UN framework and without Israel’s consent. Diplomacy so as not to appear either indifferent or powerless?  It will be understood, therefore, that Egypt's recent statements are part of a long-term policy and do not indicate a change in direction. Israel's expansionist policy puts Egypt's strategic objectives under tension: the establishment of a Palestinian state as part of a two-state solution, the preservation of Egypt's sovereignty in Sinai and its security, and finally, the support of Egyptian public opinion.  While Israel responded to Cairo's announcement by mobilizing 60,000 reservists to carry out its plan to occupy Gaza, the question of the sustainability of this balancing act arises and exposes Cairo to reality. Alone, Sisi's regime can do nothing against Israel. While it is unlikely that the Egyptian president will take the risk of opposing militarily, he seems destined to appear indifferent or powerless. A humiliation on the Gaza issue could be costly for the autocrat internally and have dramatic consequences for the region. Therefore, Egypt is left with only the diplomatic path to get out of the rut. First, negotiate a ceasefire and then find an alternative solution to the Israeli occupation of Gaza. The latter could require Egypt's return to the Gaza Strip. But is Egypt really ready to play its part in a solution for Gaza beyond diplomatic negotiations?

Abstract Never before had a sitting U.S. president managed relations with the DPRK as Donald Trump did, nor had any leader from Pyongyang sat face-to-face with a sitting U.S. president during their term as Kim Jong Un did. With Trump’s potential return, could there be another cycle of rapprochement? This paper seeks to address this question. The failure of the previous negotiating cycle, the DPRK’s advances in deterrence, and shifts in peninsular, regional, and global circumstances suggest that both leaders might bring new attributes to their interactions, potentially yielding surprising outcomes Introduction Except for a few moments of rapprochement, since the founding of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (DPRK), U.S. administrations have maneuvered with various forms and methods to destabilize its political and economic system. And since Pyongyang decided to develop nuclear weapons, Washington has labeled them illegal, demanding that they be abandoned, sponsoring United Nations Security Council (UNSC) sanctions, and implementing strict unilateral penalties. Meanwhile, successive DPRK leaders have persevered in a military doctrine based on the development of nuclear deterrence to guarantee national defense and security. Nevertheless, an unprecedented moment that broke with that persistent circumstance took place during Donald Trump’s previous term, when the relationship shifted from “fire and fury” to successive summits with Kim Jong Un in 2018 and 2019, in Singapore, Hanoi, and Panmunjom. The exchange of insults — Trump calling Kim “little rocket man” and Kim referring to Trump as a “dotard” — mutated into their approaching one another as “pen pals.” This surprising shift in U.S. policy toward the DPRK temporarily, though without the expected results, loosened the “Korean Gordian knot.” No U.S. president has managed relations with the DPRK as Donald Trump did, and in history, no North Korean leader had ever stood face-to-face, on equal footing, with a sitting U.S. president as Kim Jong Un did. Former President Barack Obama delivered several appealing speeches, but he seemed weak to many countries in East Asia, including U.S. allies and partners. For eight years, he did nothing about North Korea, calling it “strategic patience.” This eroded deterrence and allowed Pyongyang to advance its weapons and nuclear programs (Kausikan, 2025). For his part, at the beginning of his term, Joe Biden announced a “new strategy” toward the DPRK that never materialized; he pleaded for dialogue with Kim Jong Un while simultaneously increasing war threats; he grouped China, Russia, Iran, and North Korea into an ideological category that resurrected the Bush-era notion of the “axis of evil.” Biden’s simplistic binary categorization was not a policy. It ignored the differences in how these four countries define their interests, the degree of integration into the global economy, and the scope of their ambitions. These differences should be the starting point for U.S. diplomacy toward North Korea (Kausikan, 2025). The purpose of this article is to examine the circumstances, obstacles, and expectations for a new cycle of negotiations between Washington and Pyongyang with Donald Trump’s return to the U.S. presidency. Development This second term of President Donald Trump, more transactional and less predictable, seems to be raising expectations of reducing confrontational stress on the Korean Peninsula, and everything indicates that it brings with it a modification of Washington’s policy toward the DPRK. This is conditioned by the following radical changes in strategic circumstances compared to his previous term: DPRK’s nuclear and missile programs have undergone new and sophisticated advances. The DPRK has broken all ties and symbols of its relations with the Republic of Korea, which it classifies as its “principal and unchanging enemy.” Declaring that it has no intention of avoiding war, it has instructed the Korean People’s Army to accelerate preparations to “occupy, subdue, and completely reclaim” South Korea. There has been a tightening of ties between Pyongyang and Moscow. The two Kim Jong Un–Vladimir Putin summits, and Kim’s reference to Putin as his “closest comrade,” have shown the very high level of understanding and commitment between the parties. This is reflected in the DPRK’s unrestricted support for Russia’s special military operation in Ukraine and the signing of a Comprehensive Strategic Partnership Treaty, ratified by both legislatures, which includes a “mutual military assistance” clause. Meanwhile, Russia supports the DPRK diplomatically and economically, opposing multilateral and unilateral sanctions, and expanding its exports — essentially oil, raw materials, and food — as well as providing assistance in various fields. An emerging anti-U.S. and anti-Western axis has been taking shape among China, Russia, the DPRK, and Iran, which has become so significant that Washington and its allies describe it as a “new axis.” Within this interconnection, the DPRK holds important advantages in three strategic dimensions: economic, military, and diplomatic. The removal of President Yoon Suk Yeol over his irresponsible Martial Law is reinforcing the possibility of a new government led by the Democratic Party, with Lee Jae Myung as the clear favorite and, as of today, more likely to win. [1] This would open the door to a revival of North–South détente reminiscent of the Moon Jae In era. Trump’s foreign policy objectives are based on his “Make America Great Again” (MAGA) vision — now reinforced — which prioritizes U.S. strategic and economic interests over traditional alliance commitments (e.g., South Korea and Japan). At least these six factors seem to be significantly influencing Donald Trump’s decision to return to diplomacy with Kim Jong Un. While the DPRK occupies a relatively lower position on Trump’s list of priorities (with China and the Russia–Ukraine conflict taking precedence), and dialogue does not appear imminent, he has made it clear that he would like to reconnect with Kim Jong Un, seems willing to reopen negotiations, and is evaluating and discussing possible avenues of interaction that could lay the groundwork for a potential summit. It is said that Washington has been holding discreet conversations with Pyongyang, consulting external experts, and considering options to potentially restart dialogue. Meanwhile, Kim Jong Un — clearly more assertive and militarily more powerful in Washington’s eyes — has not publicly shown any willingness to renew his earlier offers related to denuclearization. In his own words: “the DPRK’s nuclearization is non-negotiable,” and he continues to exert pressure by showcasing the country’s missile–nuclear power. This has been illustrated unequivocally and consistently when Kim Jong Un visited nuclear material production facilities and the Nuclear Weapons Institute (NWI) in September 2024 and January 2025. For the DPRK, survival is an existential matter, and Pyongyang considers its nuclear–missile programs absolutely indispensable to secure it; there is nothing we can see that would persuade or force it to renounce them, as that would imply regime change. Everything indicates that the U.S. president is aware that his counterpart has not yet overcome the discouragement caused by the failure of the previous negotiation process, and for that reason, he is sending increasingly precise messages about the possibility of renewed talks, while boasting of his personal relationship with Kim Jong Un. At the same time, however, Pyongyang continues to issue contradictory signals of distrust toward Washington, in response to the confrontational attitude and the increasingly close military and intelligence ties with the DPRK’s immediate neighbors. It is worth noting that, this past February, the U.S. sent a nuclear submarine and several B-1B bombers to South Korea; U.S. military forces carried out multiple war exercises, including live-fire drills along the Demilitarized Zone, as well as heavy bombing maneuvers and even space force operations. In March, a large-scale scheduled exercise took place—70 percent larger than the one held the previous year. Nevertheless, it appears that by the end of 2024 the DPRK leadership decided to create a certain margin of diplomatic maneuver in anticipation of the incoming Trump administration. The coverage given to Trump’s inauguration on January 22 marked a shift from Pyongyang’s initial decision to remain silent on the outcome of the U.S. presidential elections in November. Moreover, this information was published in media outlets aimed at both domestic and international audiences, suggesting that North Korea has begun preparing its people for a new approach to Trump, when appropriate. Despite the steady flow of official statements and media commentary criticizing the United States, anti-American rhetoric has become somewhat less intense. Notably, the use of the expression “U.S. imperialists” has significantly decreased since then. This is also true of Kim’s public statements, which are considered the most authoritative in North Korea. For example, Kim’s speech at the Ministry of Defence on February 8 was the harshest and most detailed on the United States since his speech at a national defence exhibition in November 2024. However, unlike in many of his previous speeches at defence-related venues or events, he did not use derogatory terms such as “U.S. imperialists.” In fact, the last reported use by Kim of the term “U.S. imperialists” was in his defence exhibition speech last November. While there has been a rise in criticism of the United States since early February, as demonstrated by a series of “KCNA commentaries,” the broader trend since December still holds. The media have refrained from mentioning Trump by name, even when criticizing U.S. statements or actions. When issuing criticism, they have only referred to “the new U.S. administration,” “the current administration,” or the “U.S. ruler.” KCNA’s commentary on February 12 regarding the Gaza Strip, for example, blamed the “current U.S. administration” for the plan to take control of Gaza, omitting Trump’s name. All these articles were published in outlets aimed at domestic audiences, likely because they addressed foreign policy issues not directly relevant to North Korea. In contrast, the North Korean Ministry of Foreign Affairs’ criticism of Rubio’s statement about the “rogue state” was only published on external websites and not disseminated to the domestic audience. This allowed Pyongyang to register its rejection of the statement to external audiences while controlling the narrative about the Trump administration at home. Pyongyang also appears to be creating diplomatic space by attempting to influence Washington’s thinking while it awaits the new Trump administration’s policy toward North Korea. Its Ministry of Defence stated that the United States was “openly ignoring the DPRK’s security concerns” in reference to a U.S. nuclear-powered submarine that entered a South Korean port — an unusually direct accusation that the United States “ignores” its security concerns. If we consider the reverse side of this message (do not ignore North Korea’s security concerns), it is in fact a call from Pyongyang to the new administration to take its “security concerns” into account in its policy toward North Korea (Minyoung Lee, 2025). We can therefore see some Trumpist signals that could prove attractive to Pyongyang’s leadership: Repeated references by the U.S. president, describing the DPRK as a “nuclear power,” a concept recently reinforced when he qualified it as a “great nuclear power.” It is noteworthy that very recently U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio used the expression “nuclear-armed state” to refer to the DPRK, implicitly admitting Pyongyang’s possession of nuclear weapons. This comment suggests that the U.S. is unofficially considering the DPRK as a nuclear-armed nation, just as it does with India, Pakistan, and Israel. There are signs of a strategic shift aimed at overcoming deadlock and building trust by moving from denuclearization as the priority toward nuclear security. In other words, instead of demanding denuclearization, the focus would be on improving the safety of nuclear facilities — such as preventing accidents, leaks, or proliferation risks to third countries — through active bilateral technical cooperation that aligns reciprocal interests. The decisions that have shaken the peninsular geopolitical context and the Washington–Seoul alliance, when the U.S. classified South Korea as a “sensitive country,” as well as the so-called “strategic flexibility” that “modifies the mission of U.S. Forces Korea (USFK).” It is true that many officials in the Trump administration continue to officially reiterate their commitment to the DPRK’s denuclearization. However, statements by the U.S. president and his Secretary of State suggest that they recognize North Korea as a nuclear-armed state, generating a dual reaction: on one hand, surprise at an abrupt shift in policy toward the DPRK’s nuclearization, and on the other, uncertainty about what would happen to the security concerns of its allies — South Korea and Japan — as well as those of the U.S. itself. It should be noted that Trump stated — no less than in front of NATO Secretary General Mark Rutte — that he intended to re-establish relations with Kim Jong Un, that “he would do it,” that he has “…an excellent relationship with Kim Jong Un and we’ll see what happens.” And he declared: “But without a doubt, it is a nuclear power.” In that same setting, Trump also mentioned that India and Pakistan possessed nuclear weapons, effectively recognizing them as de facto nuclear-armed states, adding that Kim Jong Un “possesses numerous nuclear weapons” and that “others possess them as well.” Therefore, the statements by Trump and Rubio that tacitly recognize the DPRK as a “nuclear power” indicate a shift in Washington’s policy toward Pyongyang. It seems that interactions between the DPRK and the U.S. are moving toward a turning point: from denuclearization as the priority to nuclear security — a strategic change in U.S. policy aimed at overcoming deadlock and establishing trust, as a preliminary step toward a possible peace treaty. The repeated reference by U.S. President Donald Trump to the DPRK as a nuclear power could be an effort to draw Pyongyang back to the negotiating table, since North Korea seeks de facto recognition by the U.S. as a nuclear-armed state. Trump seems to be maintaining the perspective that the next negotiation should focus on reducing threats rather than denuclearization, despite his stated pursuit of “complete denuclearization.” Everything suggests that Trump is emphasizing the evident reality of Pyongyang’s progress in its nuclear program. It can also be considered that Trump’s remarks may imply that, as a result of the failure of his summit efforts to reach an agreement with Kim Jong Un to halt North Korea’s nuclear program, he may now be encouraging the consideration of an alternative strategy. However, Pyongyang is publicly and incessantly rejecting Trump’s attempts to restart dialogue; this stance has much to do with the recent history of U.S. negotiations and the president’s insufficient reciprocity to the concrete measures proposed by Kim Jong Un. In addition to the above, it is worth highlighting the latest developments that have shaken the peninsular geopolitical context and the Washington–Seoul alliance, which could, to some extent, influence a shift in Pyongyang’s perception and lead it to accept talks with Washington. We refer to the classification of South Korea as a “sensitive country” and the idea of “modifying the mission of U.S. Forces Korea (USFK).” The U.S. Department of Energy (DOE) designated South Korea as a “sensitive country,” a classification that significantly restricts collaboration in areas of advanced technology, including nuclear energy, artificial intelligence, quantum science, and advanced computing. This measure, which took effect on April 15, subjects South Korean researchers to stricter controls for collaborating or participating in research at DOE facilities or research centers and marks the first time South Korea has received such a designation from the U.S. government. In this regard, the “sensitive country” classification is based on unilateral criteria such as national security, nuclear non-proliferation, regional instability, threats to economic security, and alleged support for terrorism. This list, maintained by the DOE’s Office of Intelligence and Counterintelligence (OICI) along with the National Nuclear Security Administration (NNSA), already included countries such as India, Israel, Pakistan, Saudi Arabia, and Taiwan. Additionally, North Korea and Iran are designated as “state sponsors of terrorism,” while China and Russia are considered “countries of concern.” Such a designation suggests that the U.S. has growing concerns about the increasing voices among South Korean academics, politicians, and citizens who support the development of domestic nuclear weapons. Recent surveys reveal that popular support for nuclear armament has reached between 60% and 70%, apparently stemming from the belief that South Korea must take a bold defensive measure against North Korea’s growing nuclear threats. Although some who favor this idea believe that President Donald Trump’s skeptical view of alliances — focused on reducing the financial burden of protecting U.S. allies — might allow Seoul to develop nuclear weapons and thus reduce Washington’s responsibilities on the Korean Peninsula, the likelihood of this happening remains slim. However, the debate will not disappear in the short term due to growing skepticism about the so-called U.S. “extended deterrence,” which relies only on the deployment of strategic assets in the South of the peninsula. In the meantime, the DPRK is very likely to feel satisfied, as it sees its long-standing desire fulfilled: to witness cracks in the Washington–Seoul alliance. Another decision that would benefit the DPRK under the so-called “strategic flexibility” is the projection that the Trump administration may deploy U.S. troops stationed in South Korea in the event of a conflict in the Taiwan Strait, following the circulation of a purported Pentagon memorandum detailing its objective of deterring China from occupying Taiwan. As is well known, the primary mission of the 28,500 U.S. troops in South Korea is to deter threats from the DPRK. Should this decision materialize, their mission would then shift to countering China, considered a key component of the current administration’s foreign policy. This would create a security vacuum for Seoul and further strain its relations with Beijing. In such a circumstance, the Trump administration could pressure South Korea to handle conventional military actions from the DPRK independently, with the U.S. intervening only in the case of nuclear threats. Therefore, the best option for Seoul is to significantly strengthen its defensive capabilities, preparing for a scenario in which U.S. troops are not involved in a conventional war with the DPRK. The notion of “strategic flexibility” for the USFK reflects a shift in the main mission of U.S. forces abroad, moving from the defense of nations through their permanent presence to rapid deployment in other parts of the world where conflicts arise. As expected, unease is growing in Seoul in the face of Pyongyang’s increasing assertiveness, while the latter shows greater defiance. First, due to the possibility that Trump’s second administration may divert part of the USFK’s resources to a conflict in the Taiwan Strait, which would leave South Korea more vulnerable. Second, because South Korea is currently in open political turmoil over the impeachment of President Yoon Suk Yeol, and everything seems to indicate that the so-called South Korean democracy has failed to demonstrate itself as reliable in the eyes of Trump and his team. It is worth mentioning what Moon Chung In, emeritus professor at Yonsei University, stated in his most recent book, titled “Why American Diplomacy Fails”. The expert describes North Korea’s nuclear problem as an illustrative failure of U.S. diplomacy. His remarks are eloquent when he says: “In my conversations with members of the Trump administration during my trip to America, I had the impression that they firmly feel that Korea [South Korea] has been getting a free ride [on U.S. security] for far too long. South Korea’s excessive dependence on the United States could have serious consequences. The Korean government needs to develop autonomous strategic thinking. It needs to explore creative contingency plans for the worst-case scenario of a U.S. absence from the Korean peninsula.” We can see that Trump’s return is testing diplomatic limits and fueling a key question: Will Trump’s return to the White House open another cycle of engagement with Kim Jong Un, but with new attributes? The U.S. president always highlights his good personal relationship with the DPRK leader, something that, undoubtedly, could have a positive effect. But, as of today, Pyongyang seems to lack incentives to negotiate with Washington for four essential reasons: Military, it has achieved significant advances in its conventional weapons programs, strategic missiles, and nuclear arms, which provide it with a high deterrent capability. Economically, even under heavy sanctions, it is experiencing moments of economic expansion, it has made progress in import substitution, its local industry is reviving, and infrastructure construction is in full development. This makes negotiating the lifting of sanctions, in general and with Washington in particular, less urgent for Pyongyang. Its willingness to take political risks in exchange for economic benefits has clearly diminished. Geostrategically, its military alliance with Russia may generate new revenues, transfers of military technology, practical experience in modern warfare, and weaken the international sanctions regime. Geopolitically, the world is entering a period of dynamic geopolitical realignment that could eventually result in a multipolar order. The DPRK seems well positioned due to its ties with two key actors in the multipolarization process: Russia and China. At the same time, it observes the disruption of the traditional alliance structure with the United States and sees Washington distancing itself from its main allies, who are also DPRK’s adversaries in East Asia. Therefore, it appears willing to watch the evolution of events and their outcome. Donald Trump has stated that his administration has opened a line of communication with the DPRK and considered that, at some point, “something will probably happen,” emphasizing: “There is communication. I have a very good relationship with Kim Jong Un… I get along wonderfully with him… I think it is very important. It is a ‘great nuclear nation,’ and he is a ‘very smart guy.’ I got to know him very well… We will probably do something at some point.” It cannot be ruled out in this analysis that the DPRK is doubly leveraged. On one hand, with stable trade with China; on the other, with Russia’s reciprocity for its declared and materially sustained support for Russia’s special military operation in Ukraine. Therefore, additional incentives directly linked to DPRK’s comprehensive security must emerge. If the U.S. were to formally recognize the DPRK as a “de facto nuclear power,” which would represent a radical change in U.S. strategy, the prospect of future negotiations focused on threat reduction rather than denuclearization would open up. Despite Trump’s flattering words and the expectations they raise, it is not clear whether the U.S. president would be able to secure internal consensus within his administration to make such a decision without major obstacles, and, at the same time, manage to mitigate the suspicion and animosity of Kim Jong Un and the leadership around him. Conclusions The viability of negotiations between the U.S. and the DPRK under Trump’s new government remains uncertain, but it is possible that Trump will pursue a new “diplomatic victory” — similar to his 2018 Singapore summit with Kim Jong Un — through an alternative strategy that bilaterally satisfies Pyongyang’s aspiration to be recognized as a de facto nuclear state. However, it is unlikely that the international community would accept the U.S. unilaterally recognizing the DPRK as a nuclear-armed state. According to the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT), a vote by the UN Security Council would be required, where the United Kingdom and France would surely veto it; and if it were brought to the General Assembly as a resolution, the number of opposing votes would probably be a majority. It is worth noting that the DPRK is doubly leveraged: it has stable trade with China and reciprocity from Russia for its material support, in addition to enjoying the diplomatic backing of both powers. Given its persistent distrust of Washington, it is to be expected that Pyongyang will maintain its close coordination with Beijing and Moscow and use it to strengthen its position vis-à-vis Washington. Thus, for the time being, it is not clear whether the U.S. president will be able to mitigate the suspicion and animosity of Kim Jong Un and the leadership surrounding him. Notes[1] Lee Jae Myung was elected as president of the Republic of Korea after the June 3rd, 2025 elections. References Aise Sotolongo, J. (2025). Return of Donald Trump: Continuity or change with the DPRK? World and New World Journal. https://worldnewworld.com/page/content.php?no=4082Chan-kyong, P. (2025, 12 de marzo). Kim Jong Un seeks negotiating leverage over Trump's new nuclear demands, analysts say. South China Morning Post. https://www.scmp.com/week-asia/politics/article/3296722/kim-jong-un-seeks-negotiating-leverage-over-trump-new-nuclear-demands-analystsChung-in, M. (2025, 15 de febrero). It's time Korea prepares itself for a peninsula without the US, expert advises. The Korea Herald. https://m.koreaherald.com/article/10455463Depetris, D. R. (2025, 9 de abril). Kim Jong Un is watching Trump's Ukraine diplomacy with interest. 38 North. https://www.38north.org/2025/04/kim-jong-un-iswatching-trump-ukranie-diplomacy-with-interestEFE. (2025a, 10 de enero). Pionyang dice que sus armas nucleares no son moneda de cambio para negociar. Swissinfo. https://www.swissinfo.ch/spa/pionyangdice-que-sus-armas-nucleares-no-son-moneda-decambio-para-negociar/88844909EFE. (2025b, 22 de marzo). Washington, Seúl y Tokio reafirman su compromiso para desnuclearizar a Corea del Norte. Swissinfo. https://www.swissinfo.ch/spa/washington%2C-se%C3%BAl-y-tokio-reafirman-su-compromiso-para-desnuclearizar-a-corea-del-norte/88881832EM Redacción. (2025, 12 de marzo). Estados Unidos califica a Corea del Sur como un "país sensible", limitando la cooperación en tecnología avanzada. Escenario Mundial. https://www.escenariomundial.com/2025/03/12/estados-unidos-califica-a-corea-del-sur-como-un-pais-sensible-limitando-la-cooperacion-en-tecnologia-avanzada/KBS WORLD. (2025, 5 de febrero). Seúl y Washington acuerdan limitar el término "desnuclearización" a Corea del Norte y no a toda la península. http://world.kbs.co.kr/service/news_view.htm?lang=s&Seq_Code=92262Kipiahov, O. (2025, 9 de febrero). Rossiian vstrechaiut s ulybkami posol RF v KNDR rasskazal kak zhivet severnaia koreia. Rossiyskaya Gazeta. https://rg.ru/2025/02/09/rossiian-vstrechaiut-s-ulybkami-posol-rf-v-kndr-rasskazal-kak-zhivet-severnaia-koreia.htmlKYODO NEWS. (2025, 18 de marzo). China eyes teaming up with Japan, South Korea to denuclearize N. Korea. https://english.kyodonews.net/news/2025/03/c5e26b7d5347-htmlLankov, A. (2025, 9 de febrero). Trump’s North Korea nuclear diplomacy: Between bad and worse. Asialink Diplomacy. https://asialink.unimelb.edu.au/diplomacy/article/trump-north-korea-diplomacy-between-bab-and-worse/McCartney, M. (2025, 17 de abril). Trump plans to disarm North Korea, but Kim wants more nuclear weapons. Newsweek. https://www.newsweek.com/us-north-korea-kim-jong-un-donald-trump-nuclear-weapons-2022678Minyoung Lee, R. (2025, 25 de abril). North Korea leaving maneuvering room with the US while preparing for long-term confrontation. 38 North. https://www.38north.org/2025/04/noth-koreas-acknowledgement-of-war-participation/Reddy, S. (2025, 9 de febrero). Russian envoy to DPRK says Moscow welcomes talks between US and North Korea. NK News. https://www.nknews.org/2025/02/russian-envoy-to-dprk-says-moscow-welcomestalks-between-us-and-north-korea/Sneider, D. (2025, 3 de abril). Is North Korea the next target of Trump’s search for a deal? Keia. https://wwwkeia.org/2025/04/north-korea-the-netx-target-oftrmps-search-for-a-deal/Sputnik. (2025, 31 de marzo). Trump valora su relación con líder norcoreano Kim Jong Un y planea un eventual contacto. El País CR. https://www.elpais.cr/2025/03/31/trump-valora-su-relacion-con-lidernorcoreano-kim-jong-un-y-planea-un-eventual-contacto/YONHAP. (2025, 8 de marzo). Trump appears to use 'nuclear power' label to lure N. Korea to dialogue: US expert. The Korea Times. https://m.koreatimes.co.kr/pages/article.asp?newsIdx=394200

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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