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SECRETARY RUBIO: Well, thank you for allowing me to come. As you can imagine, last night we had the State of the Union; it was two hours, the speech, and then we got on a plane and came here. And when I told my colleagues I needed to come here to Saint Kitts and Nevis on a work trip, they were like, “Oh, sure, you’re going on a work trip.” (Laughter.) But in fact it is, with our important partners, allies, and friends from the region, and I want to thank you for giving me this small opportunity to share some time with you and to be a part of this gathering. I don’t know when the last time – you said 10 years ago was the last time all the members were together, or the last time a secretary of state joined you? MODERATOR: They told me 10 years ago. That is what I am told. SECRETARY RUBIO: I was hoping it had been some 30 years since a secretary of state came. (Laughter.) Anyway, I’m happy to be here. This is – in many ways, the Caribbean Basin is home for me, having grown up and lived almost the entirety of my life in Miami, and during my career in the United States Senate followed very carefully the issues that impact this region. And I am very happy to be in an administration that’s giving priority to the Western Hemisphere after largely being ignored for a very long time. There’s extraordinary opportunities. We share two things: We share common opportunities, and we share some common challenges. And that’s what we hope to confront. I want to start out by saying that I’m also happy to be part of an administration that is not constrained by outdated orthodoxy, outdated boilerplate platitudes about partnerships and the like. We are interested in rebuilding and constructing a new dynamic in this Western Hemisphere in which we partner with all of you on the issues we share in common. I won’t go long. I don’t want to go long, but I want to touch upon a few of those because I think they’re important and they impact the broader Americas. The first is the one I’ve shared with many of you individually and will share with you again now: We believe that perhaps the most urgent security threat in the region – that includes us, but obviously all of you – is the threat of these transnational criminal organizations, many of you – many of whom have funding and power that rival if not exceed that of many of the nation-states that they threaten. We recognize that it is an interlocked challenge that comes from a broader perspective. Number one, they’re obviously fueled by narcotrafficking and other illicit means. Oftentimes, those drugs and the proceeds from those drugs – those drugs are destined for the United States, but the proceeds from those drugs, the money they’re ultimately making, is being made in the streets of our country. This is a danger in the countries that they transit, and it’s ultimately a danger to the national security of the United States. We’ve also watched with alarm at the level of armament that these groups have. We recognize that many of these groups are buying weaponry from the United States, and that we are committed and continue to work very hard with our law enforcement agencies to shut that down. I hope you have seen, both in the case of Haiti but in other dynamics, that we have not shied away, not just from designating groups for what they are – these are terroristic organizations – but even individuals who are responsible for being supportive of them. We’ve also gone after them, and this is something that we have as a shared dynamic. We have a long history of working together on responding to these challenges, but I think our cooperation will have to grow even deeper and our commitment to it will have to grow even stronger because these groups grow stronger. I point you only to something not in the Caribbean Basin, but nonetheless indicative of what we’re – the challenges that we’re facing here, and that is the role that these drug cartels have established for themselves in Mexico. I’m not sure if you’ve seen some of the imagery of these groups after their leader was killed, but they’re out there with full military gear, military weaponry, armed transports – very dangerous. And it is something that we need to address collectively and together. The second thing is there are extraordinary opportunities for economic advancement, to work together on issues like energy. Energy is critical for the future; it’s critical for every economy in order to prosper. Many of the countries represented here today have energy resources that I know you seek to explore responsibly, safely, but in a way that generates wealth and prosperity for your people and your countries, and we want to be your partner in that regard. So that’s another area of – that hopefully we can cooperate on very closely together. And I would add to that that part of the dynamics there is some of the regional – some of the regional opportunities that are occurring. Irrespective of how some of you may have individually felt about our operations and our policy towards Venezuela, I will tell you this, and I will tell you this without any apology or without any apprehension: Venezuela is better off today than it was eight weeks ago. The progress being made there is substantial, and there’s a long ways to go. But the new interim authorities, led by Delcy Rodríguez, have done things that eight or nine weeks ago would have been unimaginable. They have released political prisoners; they have closed Helicoide, which is their most infamous prison of all. They are, for the first time in a long time, generating oil revenue that’s going to the benefit of their people, using those funds not just to make payroll for government services but to purchase medical equipment that’s necessary for their system. There’s a long ways to go, and we’re committed to making it work. We have opened – reopened our embassy in Caracas, where we have an excellent chargé who’s on the ground, along with other government officials, and we intend to continue to build on that. Now, we believe strongly – and I think all of you would share this view – that ultimately, in order for them to take the next step to truly develop that country and to truly benefit from that country’s riches for the benefit of their people, they will need the legitimacy of democratic – fair, democratic elections. But our initial priority in the aftermath of Maduro’s capture was to ensure that there wasn’t instability, that there wasn’t mass migration, that there wasn’t spillover violence, and we believe we have achieved that. Now we are in the process from going from that phase of stability to a phase of recovery. That country needs to recover from a lot of things, including deep, internal fractures, but also some dysfunction that existed in their economic systems. I say all this to you because ultimately we do believe that a prosperous, free Venezuela who’s governed by a legitimate government who has the interests of their people in mind could also be an extraordinary partner and asset to many of the countries represented here today in terms of energy needs and the like, and also one less source of instability in the region. So we expect to work very closely with all of you on that topic as well to the extent possible, and I think it’s related to the topic of security that I highlighted. The third point is just the broader stability of the region. We want the region to be seen. And I include the region of the southern United States, which we know is part of the Caribbean Basin. We want it to be a place that is attractive for inbound investment. Many of you have taken on the – and done a tremendous job of seeking to diversify your economies and continue to seek ways to diversify your economies. To the extent that there are opportunities for American businesses or American investors to be a part of that, we want to facilitate that. We want to be a part of making that happen. Here’s the bottom line: the stronger, the safer, the more prosperous, and the more secure that all of your counties are, the stronger, safer, more secure, and prosperous the United States is going to be. We view our security, our prosperity, our stability to be intricately tied to yours and we are going to evidence in the actions we’re prepared to take and in the priority that we want to give this our intent to follow through on it, which is why I’m here today, which is why I wanted to come here today and interact with all of you collectively and a few of you individually in the time that’s permitted to me. So I want to thank you for this opportunity to address you. I hope that my presence here today serves as a real-world demonstration of our commitment to being your partner, to – I don’t even want to call it resetting relations because it’s really not about a reset. I mean, we have longstanding ties to each of you bilaterally and all of you collectively, but reinvigorating our relationships because we have a lot in common to work on, both opportunities and challenges, and the United States is committed to doing that. And certainly over the next three years and I remain in this post, it will be personal priority to me. It will be one that I will be personally engaged in and it’s one that I hope to leave for my successor, whoever that may be, a very strong and stable relationship that they can continue to build upon as well. So I want to thank you for this opportunity to address you and to join you here today in this gathering. (Applause.)

Amid intensifying regional challenges and weakening multilateral systems, the trans-Tasman alliance must evolve from habit into a deliberately integrated, credible, and strategically agile instrument for regional stability. Each Anzac Day, Australia and New Zealand (NZ) commemorate a shared military history forged in fire. This year also marks the 75th anniversary of the ANZUS Treaty, the trilateral pact that still underpins the trans-Tasman alliance. Today, that alliance confronts a new strategic test. The Indo-Pacific is entering a period of overlapping instability — climate disruption, intensifying strategic rivalry, and a fraying rules-based order — that is reshaping regional security. In this environment, the trans-Tasman partnership must become a deliberately integrated strategic instrument, and delay carries growing risk. A Region Under Strain As Rory Medcalf observes, the Indo-Pacific is both a place and an idea. It represents a connected maritime system stretching from the Indian Ocean to the Pacific. It is also a strategic framing of the world’s economic engine room and centre of gravity for growth. This prosperity rests on increasingly fragile foundations. Three pressures are converging. First, climate change is a present destabiliser. In our immediate neighbourhood, Pacific leaders consistently identify it as their primary security concern. Rising seas, extreme weather, and resource stress erode governance capacity and heighten vulnerability to external influence. Failure to align security engagement with climate priorities risks alienating partners and opening seams that revisionist actors can exploit. Second, strategic competition between the US and China has intensified. China’s military modernisation and coercive diplomacy reflect a determination to shape the regional order more closely to its interests. Meanwhile, political volatility in Washington has injected uncertainty into alliance structures that have underwritten stability for decades. As Hugh White has long cautioned, Australia cannot assume the permanence of US primacy. This competition plays out as an incremental erosion of a global balance that has long been favourable to Australia and NZ. Third, global institutions are faltering. Paralysis in multilateral forums such as the United Nations Security Council and the World Trade Organisation has reduced predictability for middle and smaller powers. Evelyn Gohreminds us that stability depends not only on power, but on shared understandings and restraint. When the global systems upholding those norms fray, stability relies more heavily on credible regional partnerships described by some as the “middle power moment”. For Australia and NZ, these pressures are immediate. The South-West Pacific, long viewed as strategically benign, is now a contested space. Chinese naval activity in the Tasman Sea has underscored how close major power manoeuvres now sit to Australasian waters. Geography alone is no longer a sufficient deterrent. Rethinking Deterrence Traditional “hub-and-spokes” alliance models are ill-suited to this complexity. Deterrence in the Indo-Pacific must be geometric rather than linear: a web of overlapping principles. For Australia and NZ, this geometry has three pillars. - Distributed denial: Dispersed, interoperable forces complicate adversary planning and raise the cost of coercion. Australia’s emerging “strategy of denial” and NZ’s forward Pacific presence are complementary. But complementarity only deters if it is visibly integrated. As John Blaxland observes, credibility is built through demonstrated coordination, not through parallel effort. - Institutional legitimacy as strategic capital: Political legitimacy is central to deterrence. A dense network of regional partnerships increases the diplomatic cost of coercion. Wellington’s Pacific relationships and emphasis on partnership, including principles derived from Te Tiriti o Waitangi, offer distinctive strengths that can amplify both nations’ regional engagement. - Economic-security integration. In the Indo-Pacific, trade, infrastructure, and maritime security are now deeply enmeshed in geopolitical strategy. Australia and NZ must seek regionally attuned strategies that acknowledge this economic-security entanglement to reinforce both resilience and credibility. Yet this geometry requires scaffolding. Without institutional depth, alignment remains rhetorical. The Complacency Risk The Australia–NZ relationship is uniquely close; “friends, family, and formal allies”, according to the Prime Ministers. Defence interoperability at the tactical level is strong. Intelligence sharing is deep. Cultural ties are dense. Yet, as Wallis and Powles observe, closeness can breed complacency. Strategic asymmetry is growing. Australia’s defence budget and warfighting focus, particularly under AUKUS, far outpace NZ’s more modest capability trajectory. Wellington increasingly aligns procurement and planning with Canberra, yet Australian strategy documents rarely reciprocate the emphasis. Australia’s Indo-Pacific outlook versus NZ’s Pacific-centric framing risks divergent threat perception without deliberate coordination. Also concerning is the “frozen middle” practitioners describe: the gap between high-level rhetoric and frontline integration. Tactical familiarity and political warmth cannot substitute for integrated campaigning, planning, processes, and aligned procurement. In crisis, ambiguity about roles, thresholds, and expectations could slow coordinated action precisely when speed is essential. From Sentiment to Structure If deeper integration is necessary, what should it look like? At the centre should be an Anzac Joint Operating Concept (AJOC): a shared framework guiding how both countries plan, operate, and adapt together across the security spectrum. Not a new treaty or bureaucracy, but a living operating system aligning campaign planning, capability development, digital interoperability, and joint assessments. An AJOC would be a dashboard and a compass. It would define shared strategic effects, establish pre-agreed coordination mechanisms for contingencies, align procurement timelines and training pipelines, and embed joint assessment functions to transform intelligence sharing into shared foresight. It converts complementarity into coherence, while preserving sovereign decision-making. Operational integration must also be matched by political architecture. Australia should align its national power with a National Security Strategy; NZ should anchor its defence capability planning more explicitly in a national military strategy. A biennial bilateral strategic review would institutionalise adaptation. A standing trans-Tasman security council (building on ANZMIN) could provide continuity across electoral cycles. Crucially, deeper integration must be anchored in Pacific legitimacy. A joint Anzac Pacific Strategy, aligned with regional priorities, would signal that trans-Tasman coordination strengthens, rather than sidelines, Pacific voices. A Moment of Opportunity Alliances are not static inheritances; they are instruments that evolve or atrophy. Seventy-five years after ANZUS, Australia and NZ face a different strategic landscape. Increasingly complex security challenges rise against a backdrop of fractured systems of resilience. Declining multilateralism empowers regional partnerships. The trans-Tasman alliance stands at a moment of opportunity. With deliberate institutional reform, clearer strategic alignment, and a shared operating framework, it can become one of the Indo-Pacific’s most credible middle-power anchors: regionally legitimate, operationally coherent, and strategically agile. Amidst a polycrisis, inertia carries a cost. Purposeful integration, by contrast, offers leverage. A stronger Anzac alliance is both achievable and timely; an investment in regional stability that reflects shared interests, shared values, and a shared future. This article is published under a Creative Commons License and may be republished with attribution.

Abstract The International North–South Transport Corridor (INSTC) is a 7,200-kilometre multi-modal network connecting India, Iran, Azerbaijan, Russia, Central Asia, and Europe, offering a shorter and cost-effective alternative to the Suez Canal. Established in 2000 and expanding with key infrastructure projects like the Rasht-Astara railway, the corridor aims to boost trade volumes significantly by 2030, facilitating faster, cheaper freight movement and enhancing Eurasian integration. Russia and Iran’s collaboration is central, enabling a sanctions-resilient trade route that counters Western dominance and supports economic growth in transit countries. The INSTC also offers environmental benefits, with lower greenhouse gas emissions compared to deep-sea shipping. Strategically, it diversifies Russia’s transport links, reduces dependency on vulnerable Western routes, and strengthens geopolitical ties within the BRICS framework. However, challenges such as infrastructure gaps, sanctions, and regional conflicts persist. For the EU, INSTC presents both opportunities for cheaper trade and risks to its geopolitical influence, necessitating strategic responses to maintain Eurasian connectivity and sanctions effectiveness. Key Words: International Trade, North, South, Europe, geopolitics Introduction The International North–South Transport Corridor (INSTC) is a 7,200-kilometre multi-modal transportation network involving ships, railways, and roads designed to facilitate freight movement between India, Iran, Azerbaijan, Russia, Central Asia, and Europe.[1] Established in September 2000 under an agreement signed in St. Petersburg by India, Iran, and Russia, the corridor has since expanded to include additional members, including Belarus, Azerbaijan and several Central Asian countries. [2] Its primary aim is to enhance trade connectivity by linking major cities such as Mumbai, Tehran, Baku, and Moscow, and beyond, offering a shorter and more cost-effective alternative to traditional routes, including the Suez Canal. [3] Source: https://www.geopoliticalmonitor.com/geopolitics-of-the-international-north-south-transport-corridor-instc/ In 2025, container traffic along the eastern route (via Kazakhstan and Turkmenistan) nearly doubled, supported by discounts of 15 - 80% on shipments, which have been extended through 2026. [4] A milestone occurred in November 2025 when a cargo train from north of Moscow delivered 62 containers to Iran via Central Asia, highlighting the route's viability for India-Central Asia trade. [5] Overall, INSTC freight volumes reached 26.9 million tons in 2024 (19% up from prior years), with rail handling over 12.9 million tons, and projections aim for 15 million tons annually by 2027. [6] The INSTC operates through several interconnected paths. Western Route: from India via sea to Iran's Bandar Abbas port, then by road or rail northward through Iran to Azerbaijan, and onward to Russia. Central Route: involves transit across the Caspian Sea from Iranian ports like Bandar Anzali to Russian ports such as Astrakhan. Eastern Route: connects via Kazakhstan and Turkmenistan for land-based links to Russia. This setup allows for efficient cargo transit, with railways playing a crucial role, including ongoing projects like the Rasht-Astara railway in Iran, to fully connect the network. [7] Suez and its geopolitical importance The Suez Canal stands as one of the world's most strategically vital maritime chokepoints, connecting the Mediterranean Sea to the Red Sea and serving as a critical artery for global trade and energy security. Since its opening in 1869, the Suez Canal has fundamentally transformed global maritime trade patterns and geopolitical relationships. The canal provides the shortest maritime route between Europe and Asia, eliminating the need for the lengthy circumnavigation of Africa via the Cape of Good Hope. This strategic positioning has made the canal a focal point of international competition and a critical infrastructure asset whose security is of profound importance to the global economy. [8] The Suez Canal's economic importance cannot be overstated. The waterway attracts approximately 12 - 15% of worldwide trade and about 30% of global container traffic, with more than $1 trillion in goods transiting annually. An average of fifty to sixty ships transit the canal daily, carrying an estimated $3 billion to $9 billion in cargo value. [9] This concentration of trade flow makes the canal a critical node in global supply chains, particularly for trade between Asia and Europe.[10] The canal's strategic role extends beyond general cargo. It handles roughly 9% of global seaborne oil flows (approximately 9.2 million barrels per day) and around 8% of liquefied natural gas volumes. [11] his energy dimension amplifies the canal's geopolitical significance, as disruptions can directly impact global energy markets and prices. [12] The 2021 blockage of the Suez Canal by the Ever Given container ship demonstrated the canal's vulnerability, disrupting global supply chains and highlighting the systemic risks posed by maritime chokepoints. [13] The Suez Canal has long been recognised as a strategic asset of paramount importance. Historical analysis reveals that control of the canal has been central to imperial and regional power projection, particularly during the British Empire's dominance, when the canal was viewed as the "jugular vein of empire". [14] The canal's strategic value was dramatically illustrated during the 1956 Suez Crisis and its closure from 1967 to 1975, events that reshaped regional geopolitics and demonstrated how canal access could be weaponized. [15] Contemporary security challenges continue to underscore the canal's strategic vulnerability. Recent geopolitical threats in the Red Sea, including attacks on commercial shipping, have raised concerns about the canal's security and the potential for regional conflicts to disrupt global trade. [16] These hybrid threats demonstrate how the canal remains a potential flashpoint where regional instability can have worldwide economic consequences. [17] In brief, for the time being, the Suez Canal remains an indispensable component of global maritime infrastructure, whose geopolitical significance extends far beyond its physical dimensions. Its role in facilitating international trade, energy transportation, and strategic mobility ensures that the canal's security and accessibility remain matters of vital international interest. As global trade patterns evolve and new challenges emerge, the canal's strategic importance continues to shape relationships among nations and influence the calculus of regional and global powers. Iran-Russia Collaboration. Can INSTC be a viable alternative to the Suez Canal? In December 2025, Iranian and Russian officials met in Tehran to expedite the corridor, focusing on removing administrative barriers and finalising legal frameworks. Key projects include the Rasht-Astara railway (expected completion by mid-2026) and upgrades to Iranian ports, such as Bandar Abbas. [18] Russia and Iran's collaboration is central to operationalising the INSTC, involving joint infrastructure development, financial investments, and policy coordination to address connectivity gaps. [19] It is against this backdrop that Russia has funded the 162-kilometre Rasht-Astara railway in Iran (with a 1.3 billion euro loan, targeted for completion by 2027), which resolves a critical missing link in the western route by connecting Azerbaijan's rail network to Iran's, enabling seamless transit from the Caspian Sea to the Persian Gulf. [20] Iran, in turn, has upgraded ports like Bandar Abbas and Chabahar (the latter through a 10-year agreement with India signed in May 2024, involving $2.1 billion in investments to expand capacity to 8.5 million tonnes), while Russia has modernised Caspian ports such as Astrakhan and Olya, along with highways like the M6 Caspian and M29 Caucasus. These investments — estimated at 35% of total corridor funding from Russia and 34% from Iran — focus on railway electrification, port expansions, and digital tools such as electronic waybills to streamline border procedures, thereby reducing export times and costs, which are currently 5 - 7 times higher than EU averages. Bilateral agreements, such as the 1992 Russia-Iran transport pact and recent multimodal logistics deals (e.g., between Russian Railways and India's CONCOR for coal shipments via INSTC in June 2024), further support asymmetric trade flows, with north-to-south machinery and chemicals dominating from Russia, and south-to-north foodstuffs from Iran. In terms of international trade, this partnership enhances the INSTC's viability by boosting freight potential to 14.6 - 24.7 million tonnes annually by 2030 (including 5.9 - 11.9 million tonnes containerised, or 325 - 662 thousand TEU), with grains accounting for 8.7 - 12.8 million tonnes primarily via the eastern route through Kazakhstan and Turkmenistan. For India, the corridor unlocks untapped export opportunities worth up to $180 billion (nine times current levels) to Russia and Central Asia, while Russia's pivot to southern markets (Gulf, India, Africa) has seen bilateral trade with India surge to over $30 billion in 2022, driven by hydrocarbons. Iran's role as a transit hub could generate transit revenues exceeding oil income, potentially increasing 20-fold from $1 billion to support economic growth amid high inflation (54.6% in 2023) and unemployment (9.7%). Synergies with other corridors like the Baku-Tbilisi-Kars (BTK) and Central Asia Regional Economic Cooperation (CAREC) add 127 - 246 thousand TEU in traffic, fostering Eurasian integration. Geopolitically, Russia-Iran ties make the INSTC a tool to counter Western domination by creating a sanctions-resilient route that avoids U.S.-influenced waterways, especially amid the Ukraine conflict and U.S. sanctions on both nations. This "pivot to the South" by Russia and Iran, and their positioning as a Eurasian bridge, reduce dependence on the Suez Canal, which handles vulnerable global trade, and promote diversified connectivity outside Western frameworks such as TRACECA. Challenges persist, including infrastructure overloads (e.g., 8.8 million tons transported in 2022 despite capacity constraints), uncoordinated policies, gauge differences and sanctions that affect insurance and port access, though exemptions for Chabahar help mitigate these. Overall, the collaboration not only addresses these hurdles through targeted investments and digital harmonisation but also positions the INSTC as a sustainable alternative, with environmental benefits such as 25% lower GHG emissions from rail shifts, comparable to those of deep-sea shipping. How does INSTC serve Russian security interests? In a recent analysis of the subject, Prokhor Tebin offers relevant observations examining the strategic importance of the INSTC within the framework of Russian national security amid intensifying great-power competition. The author argues that Russia’s security and economic resilience depend on developing a cohesive Eurasian transport network through a ‘whole-of-government’ approach that integrates various ministries, regional authorities, and foreign partners. This network includes robust domestic infrastructure and diversified international corridors, with the INSTC being a key route linking Russia to the South Caucasus, Central Asia, and Iran. [21] According to Tebin, Russian national security is defined broadly, encompassing socio-economic development alongside defence. Robust transport infrastructure is vital for economic security, military mobilisation, and rapid crisis response, especially given Russia’s diminished strategic depth and growing threats on multiple borders, including NATO expansion to the west and instability in the south. Against this backdrop, the current overreliance on vulnerable Western transport arteries (the Baltic and Black Seas) underscores the need for alternative routes, such as the INSTC and the Northern Sea Route, to ensure resilience against potential blockades. Furthermore, Tebin stresses the importance of a networked transport system rather than isolated corridors, advocating for coordination via an interdepartmental group to optimise resource allocation and strategic prioritisation. While alternative regional projects exist, such as the Zangezur Corridor and Trans-Caspian routes, Russia should not oppose them outright but seek to enhance its own projects’ competitiveness and foster regional stability, as stable neighbours contribute to Russian security. Iran’s role in the INSTC is pivotal due to its geographic position and economic potential. Supporting Iran’s stability through the corridor reduces regional risks like mass migration and terrorism. The corridor also provides Russia with critical connectivity to the Global South and lessens dependency on NATO-controlled maritime routes. Ultimately, the INSTC, though currently limited in cargo volume, is strategically crucial for diversifying Russia’s transport links, enhancing military and economic security, and fostering Eurasian integration in a complex geopolitical environment characterised by long-term great-power rivalry. Other authors, Vinokurov, Ahunbaev and Zaboev stress the strategic importance and development potential of the INSTC, a multimodal transport network connecting northwestern Europe and the Nordic countries with Central Asia, the Persian Gulf, and South Asia. Accordingly, INSTC serves as a crucial alternative to traditional east-west routes by offering faster delivery times, supporting Eurasian economic integration, and enhancing connectivity for landlocked countries in the Eurasian Economic Union (EAEU), four of whose five members are landlocked. The above-mentioned authors estimate that by 2030, the aggregate freight traffic on the INSTC, including containerised and non-containerised goods, could reach 15 – 25 million tonnes, with container traffic potentially increasing twentyfold. The main commodities transported include food products, metals, machinery, textiles, and grain — the latter being the major non-containerised cargo. The corridor’s rail-based transport offers environmental advantages over road and air freight, emitting significantly fewer greenhouse gases. Despite its potential, INSTC faces several challenges: uncoordinated transport policies among member states, international sanctions (notably on Iran), infrastructure bottlenecks, legal and regulatory inconsistencies, border-crossing delays, and differing railway gauges. Overcoming these issues requires improved coordination, infrastructure investments, digitalisation, and streamlined customs and tariff policies. To sum up, fully operationalising the INSTC would transform it from a mere transport corridor into an economic development corridor, fostering regional connectivity, trade expansion, and sustainable growth across Eurasia. It would also help convert landlocked countries into “land-linked” ones, boosting their economic prospects and integrating them into global value chains. Consequently, it raises questions about the future of the EU as a geopolitical actor within the broader West-BRICS context. Possible consequences for the EU Geoeconomically, INSTC could have significant consequences, centred on trade diversion and supply-chain shifts. The corridor promises 30 – 40% reductions in transit time (e.g., 23 days versus 45 – 60 days via Suez) and costs, enabling faster India–Europe flows of pharmaceuticals, textiles, and machinery, as well as Russian energy and agricultural exports to South Asia. [22] Post-2022 Ukraine invasion, volumes have grown amid Russia’s pivot from European markets, with India–Russia trade surging to around US$50 billion. For the EU, this creates dual pressures: potential cost savings for importers accessing Indian goods or Central Asian resources, yet practical barriers from EU and US sanctions on Russia and Iran, which restrict participation and financing. EU ports and logistics hubs (e.g., Rotterdam) risk losing transit volumes as cargo reroutes through sanctioned territories, while the corridor competes with EU-supported alternatives like the Trans-Caspian Middle Corridor. [23] The EU’s Global Gateway strategy (€300 billion investment framework) explicitly promotes diversified, sustainable connectivity, allocating funds to bypass Russia - and Iran-dependent routes. Cargo between the EU and India is projected to double by 2032 under the prospective FTA, underscoring the need for reliable non-INSTC pathways. Overall, the INSTC accelerates Eurasian trade reorientation away from Western-dominated chokepoints, modestly eroding EU leverage in global logistics while exposing vulnerabilities to disruptions in sanctioned segments. [24] Geopolitically, the INSTC bolsters a Russia–Iran–India axis within BRICS, serving as a sanctions-circumvention tool that undermines the effectiveness of Western measures. By enabling Russia to monetise its geography for access to the Global South and Iran to gain transit rents, it advances multipolar narratives that challenge EU influence in the Caucasus, Central Asia, and the Persian Gulf. [25] For Europe, this reduces coercive leverage over Moscow — previously derived from transit dependence — and fragments the rules-based order the EU champions. It also counters EU efforts to deepen ties with India via transparent initiatives like IMEC, potentially tilting New Delhi’s connectivity choices toward sanctioned partners. Challenges include infrastructure gaps (e.g., rail gauge mismatches, Iranian sanctions-induced delays) and regional conflicts (Armenia – Azerbaijan), limiting scalability. Yet momentum persists through bilateral deals, such as Azerbaijan’s financing for Iran’s Rasht–Astara railway. [26] In conclusion, the INSTC presents the EU with limited opportunities for cheaper diversified trade but primarily poses geoeconomic risks of route competition and geopolitical challenges to sanctions efficacy and Eurasian influence. To mitigate, the EU should probably accelerate Global Gateway investments in the Middle Corridor and IMEC, harmonise sanctions enforcement, and engage India on value-aligned connectivity. Failure to do so could accelerate a shift toward BRICS-led corridors, diminishing the EU’s role in shaping 21st-century Eurasian trade architecture. References [1] International North–South Transport Corridor. (n.d.). Wikipedia. Retrieved October 2, 2026, from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/International_North%E2%80%93South_Transport_Corridor [2] Cross-border Infrastructure International North-South Transport Corridor (INSTC). (n.d.). Asia Regional Integration Center. Retrieved October 2, 2026, from https://aric.adb.org/initiative/international-north-south-transport-corridor [3] Vinokurov, E. Y., Ahunbaev, A., & Zaboev, A. I. (2022). International North–South Transport Corridor: Boosting Russia’s “pivot to the South” and Trans-Eurasian connectivity. Russian Journal of Economics, 8(2), 159–173. https://doi.org/10.32609/j.ruje.8.86617 [4] Aliyev, N. (2025, December 19). Russia’s Pivot to the Eastern Route: Balancing Azerbaijan with Kazakhstan and Turkmenistan? Iddle. https://ridl.io/russia-s-pivot-to-the-eastern-route-balancing-azerbaijan-with-kazakhstan-and-turkmenistan/ [5] Wani, A. (2025, November 27). INSTC Eastern Corridor: India’s Gateway to Central Asia. Observer Research Foundation. https://www.orfonline.org/expert-speak/instc-eastern-corridor-india-s-gateway-to-central-asia [6] Bochkarev, D. (2025, November 27). The North–South Transport Corridor and Energy-Related Exports. Energy Intelligence. https://www.energyintel.com/0000019a-c479-d672-a9be-c77f8c740000 [7] International North–South Transport Corridor. (n.d.). Wikipedia. Retrieved October 2, 2026, from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/International_North%E2%80%93South_Transport_Corridor [8] Helwa, R., & Al-Riffai, P. (2025, March 20). A lifeline under threat: Why the Suez Canal’s security matters for the world. Atlantic Council. https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/issue-brief/a-lifeline-under-threat-why-the-suez-canals-security-matters-for-the-world/ [9] Ibidem. [10] Ducruet, C. (2016). The polarization of global container flows by interoceanic canals: geographic coverage and network vulnerability. Maritime Policy & Management, 43(2), 242–260. https://doi.org/10.1080/03088839.2015.1022612 [11] Helwa, R., & Al-Riffai, P. (2025, March 20). A lifeline under threat: Why the Suez Canal’s security matters for the world. 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I. Introduction As Figure 1 shows, Germany’s share of world GDP has declined from 6.99% in 1980 to 2.89% in 2025. Germany, which had been considered to be Europe’s economic powerhouse in previous decades, became the worst-performing major economy in 2023 with a 0.9% contraction, followed by another 0.5% contraction in 2024, leading to a recession. Several economists and business figures expressed concerns that Germany’s economic downturn could cause the country to reclaim its reputation as the “sick man of Europe” from the 1990s. [1] Economists argue that the German economy was in a permanent crisis mode, while the Handelsblatt Research Institute declared that it was in its “greatest crisis in post-war history” after projecting a third consecutive year of recession in 2025. [2]  Figure 1: Germany’s share of world GDP (based on PPP)  As Figure 2 shows, GDP in the United Kingdom in Q3 2025 was 5.2% above its pre-pandemic level of Q4 2019. This compares with Euro-zone GDP being 6.5% higher, with GDP in Germany up by 0.1% (the lowest among G7 economies). The United States has the highest GDP growth among G7 economies over this period at 13.3% (as of Q2 2025).  Figure 2: G7 nations’ GDP growth (source: OECD) With this information in background, this paper explores why the German economy has underperformed and fallen behind. This paper first describes the current economic situation of Germany and explains why the German economy has failed. II. Current economic situations of Germany The German economy has been sluggish. As Figure 3 shows, the average GDP growth rate in Germany during the 2013-2023 period was only 1.1%. And Germany experienced a 0.9% contraction in 2023 and a 0.5% contraction in 2024.  Figure 3: Average GDP growth rate in Germany, 2013-2024 In addition, as Figure 4 shows, the unemployment rate in Germany has recently increased following the Ukraine war. The unemployment rate dropped from 6.2% in January 2016 to 5% in January 2020, but then it rose following the Ukraine war in 2022. Unemployment rate increased from 5% in March 2022 to 5.6% in March 2023 and 6.3 % in December 2025.  Figure 4: Unemployment rate in Germany, 2016-2025 (source: Bundesagentur für Arbeit) Rising energy prices have been a main factor causing serious problems for the German economy. As Figure 5 shows, gasoline price in Germany has increased following the Ukraine war. Gasoline price in Germany averaged 1.73 USD/Liter from 1995 until 2025, but it reached an all-time high of 2.36 USD/Liter in May 2022. Gasoline price declined to 2.05 USD/Liter in December 2025, but it is still higher compared to the previous decade.  Figure 5: Gasoline price in Germany (source: Trading Economics) Moreover, fiscal imbalance has been a big problem for Germany. As Figure 6 shows, consolidated fiscal balance in Germany recorded a huge deficit in the 2020s. The deficit recorded $49,542 billion in January 2023 and $46,923 billion in September 2025, compared with an average of $13,425 billion from March 1991 to September 2025. Figure 6: Germany’s consolidated fiscal balance (source: CEIC Data) As a result, as Figure 7 shows, the German government’s debt as a % of GDP significantly increased in the 2020s. The German government’s debt reached an all-time high of 81% in December 2010 and then declined until 2019, but it started to increase from 2020. The German government’s debt as a % of GDP increased to 65.2% in October 2022.  Figure 7: Government debt in Germany: % of GDP (source: CEIC Data) Investment is a key to economic growth in every country. As Figure 8 shows, overall private investment in Germany has declined in the 2020s, particularly during the period of 2022-2024 after the Ukraine War. In addition, as Figure 9 shows, total government net investment in Germany has declined in the 2020s.  Figure 8: Private investment in Germany, 2010-2024 (Source: ECB, Eurostat, Destatis and European Commission calculations)  Figure 9: Government net investment in Germany, 2010-2024 (Source: ECB, Eurostat, Destatis and European Commission calculations) Reflecting Germany’s recent sluggish economy, as Figure 10 shows, the German manufacturing industry’s business expectation has been negative over the period of 2022-2025 after the Ukraine war.  Figure 10: German manufacturing industry’s business expectation III. Causes of the failure of German economy Why has the German economy failed? Germany’s economic decline can be attributed to multiple factors. The first factor is the energy crisis or energy policy in Germany. Economists cited Germany’s overreliance on cheap Russian gas as one of many primary factors for Germany’s economic stagnation. Prior to Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, as Figure 11 shows, 56% of Russia’s gas exports went to Germany. This caused German industry and the broader economy to become dependent on cheap Russian energy.  Figure 11: Russia’s gas exports in 2021 Germany’s phasing out of its established network of nuclear power, a process initiated and led by the Greens and ultimately enforced by the second Merkel government, increased Germany’s dependency on Russian energy. The German government’s decision to phase out its nuclear power was influenced by the high-profile Fukushima nuclear accident in 2011. Until March 2011, Germany obtained one-quarter of its electricity from nuclear energy, using 17 reactors. The following gap after phasing out of its established network of nuclear power was primarily filled by Russian natural gas, inadvertently increasing dependency on Russian energy. Despite early leadership in renewable energy adoption, Germany’s transition has been hampered by antiquated bureaucratic obstacles, complicated and slow processes for approving projects for renewable energy, and local resistance to infrastructure projects, each discouraging further investment in renewable sectors. As of 2024, renewable sources accounted for just over 52% of the country’s electricity supply, insufficient to meet industrial demands. Germany’s dependency on Russian gas became a vulnerability following the Ukraine War in 2022. The abrupt disruption of Russian energy forced Germany to rapidly diversify its energy sources, leading to a 32.6% reduction in gas imports by 2023. The subsequent sanctions against Russia and supply disruptions led to a 32% increase in Germany’s energy prices, contributing to economic instability and decline. As Figure 12 shows, energy consumer price in Germany skyrocketed in the 2020s following the Ukraine War. Energy consumer price in Germany increased 32% in September 2022 compared to the previous year.  Figure 12: Energy consumer price in Germany (source: OECD) Although energy consumer price in Germany significantly dropped in 2024 and has stabilized afterwards, the damage to industrial competitiveness has been lasting. Energy-intensive industries such as chemicals and metals have shrunk, forcing businesses to either cut production or relocate abroad, thereby contributing to economic decline. The second factor related to the sluggish economy of Germany is the under-development of the tech industry in Germany. Some experts argued that Germany’s economic troubles were partly due to its slow adaptation to technological advancements and shifting to low-productivity sectors, contributing to declining productivity. [3] This issue is about Germany’s insufficient investment in new technologies (computers, artificial intelligence (AI), software, etc.) and the low level of spending on research and development (R&D), compared to other advanced countries such as the US. When we compare OECD countries, we see that these two components have a strong influence on productivity differences between countries. The econometric estimate leads to the following effects: a 1-point increase in the rate of investment in new technologies leads to a 0.8 point increase per year in productivity gains. In a similar way, a 1 point increase in GDP for R&D expenditure leads to a 0.9 point increase per year in productivity gains. [4] As Figure 13 shows, gross domestic spending on R&D as a % of GDP in Germany in 2023 was higher than in many EU countries, but lower than in its Western rivals such as the US, Israel, Japan, Taiwan, South Korea, Sweden, and Switzerland.  Figure 13: Gross domestic spending on R&D as a % of GDP, 2023 Moreover, weak investment in public infrastructure and digitalization has further weakened Germany’s IT sectors. As Figure 14 shows, Germany has long underinvested in public infrastructure, ranking near the bottom among advanced economies in public investment levels.  Figure 14: gross public investment in OECD countries, 2018-2022 (source: IMF) As a result, as Figure 15 shows, there are no German tech firms among the global top 10 most valuable unicorns. The US and China lead the category of global tech unicorns.  Figure 15: Global top 10 Unicorns (source: https://www.hurun.co.uk/hurun-global-unicorn-index-2025#:~:text=In%20contrast%20to%20the%20UK's,the%20US%20and%20China%2C%20including The third factor related to the sluggish economy of Germany is the demographics. As Figure 16 shows, the working-age population in Germany has declined, while old people over 65 have significantly increased.  Figure 16: Age group in Germany (source: UN, World Population Prospects & Financial Times) The IMF posited that the fundamental structural challenges for Germany are accelerating population aging. The country’s working-age population, which had been declining over the three decades, was projected to decline sharply as baby boomers retired. As Figure 17 shows, Germany’s working-age population growth is the lowest among G7 countries. This demographic shift in Germany is expected to decrease GDP per capita, further hinder productivity growth, and cause increased demand for healthcare, potentially forcing workers to go into healthcare away from other sectors.  Figure 17: Working-age population growth, G7 economies (source: IMF) Under this circumstance, shorter working hours increasingly constrain Germany’s labor supply, thereby reducing economic growth. As Figure 18 shows, employees in Germany work shorter hours on average than in any other OECD country.  Figure 18: Employees in Germany work shorter hours on average than in any other OECD country Another issue related to the demographics is the size of the welfare state in Germany. As Figure 19 shows, Germany’s public social spending has expanded and is now at record level. As Figure 20 shows, Germany spent around 30% of its GDP on welfare and social benefits in 2024, placing it among the largest welfare states in Europe, as well as in the world.  Figure 19: German social welfare spending is at record levels, excluding the Covid-19 pandemic (source: OECD, Financial Times)  Figure 20: Welfare and social spending as a % of GDP in 2024 (Source: Eurostat (2024) Gwartney, Holcombe and Lawson (1998) showed empirically that as the size of general government spending has almost doubled on average in OECD countries from 1960 to 1996, their real GDP growth rates have dropped by almost two thirds on average (see Figure 21). According to them, as public social spending goes up, GDP growth goes down.  Figure 21: High government spending reduces growth Moreover, any increase in welfare costs automatically leads to an increase in non-wage labor costs for employers. Under German law, employers are obliged to cover half of their employees’ insurance contributions. Since the end of the Covid-19 pandemic, as Figure 22 shows, non-wage labor costs have risen at a faster rate than total wages, eating into companies’ profits and reducing the room for wage increases, thereby lowering economic growth.  Figure 22: Costs other than wages have started to make up a greater share of employers’ labor spending (source: Bundesbank & Financial Times) The fourth factor related to the sluggish economy of Germany is exports. Exports have been a driving force for Germany for a long time, but the year-on-year (YoY) exports growth rate indicates a decline over the 2023-25 period after the Ukraine War, as Figure 23 shows.  Figure 23: Year-on-year (YoY) exports growth rate in Germany (source: MacroMicro) In addition, German export performance against global competitors has not been so good, as Figure 24 shows. It was so bad in the 2020s.  Figure 24: Germany’s export performance against global competitors (source: Deutsche Bank Research & OECD) IV. Conclusion This paper showed that the German economy has been in big trouble with sluggish economic growth. This paper explained that the failure of the German economy can be attributed to an energy crisis, as well as underdevelopment of tech industry, a shrinking working-age population and shortest working hours of employees, a large size of welfare state, and sluggish exports. References [1] Germany, which had been considered to be Europe’s economic powerhouse in prior decades, became the worst-performing global major economy in 2023 with a 0.9% contraction, followed by further 0.5% contraction in 2024 leading to recession. [2] Partington, Richard (15 January 2024). "Germany on track for two-year recession as economy shrinks in 2023". The Guardian. [3] Fletcher, Kevin; Kemp, Harri; Sher, Galen (27 March 2024). "Germany's Real Challenges are Aging, Underinvestment, and Too Much Red Tape". International Monetary Fund. [4] https://www.polytechnique-insights.com/en/columns/economy/economy-why-europe-is-falling-behind-the-usa/

Shortly after the opening salvo of U.S.-Israeli attacks on Iran on Feb. 28, 2026 – with missiles targeting cities across the country, some of which killed Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei – President Donald Trump declared the objective was to destroy Iran’s military capabilities and give rise to a change in government. Framing the operation as a war of liberation, Trump called on Iranians to “take over your government.” In the first days alone, Israel dropped over 2,000 bombs on Iranian targets, equal to half the tonnage of the 12-day Israel-Iran conflict in June 2025. Heavy U.S. bombing, meanwhile, has targeted Iran’s Revolutionary Guard as well as ballistic missile and aerial defense sites. The destruction is real. But, as an international relations scholar, I know that destruction is not the same as political success. And the historical record of U.S. bombing campaigns aimed at regime change shows that the gap between the two – the point at which Afghanistan, Iraq and Libya campaigns all stalled – is where wars go to die. Destruction is not strategy Decades of scholarship dating back to World War I on using air power to force political change has established a consistent finding: Bombing can degrade military capacity and destroy infrastructure, but it does not produce governments more cooperative with the attacker. Political outcomes require political processes – negotiation, institution-building, legitimate transitions of power. Bombs cannot create any of these. Instead, what they reliably create is destruction, and destruction generates its own dynamics: rallying among the population, power vacuums, radicalization and cycles of retaliation. The American record confirms this. In 2003, the George W. Bush administration launched “Shock and Awe” in Iraq with the explicit aim of regime change. The military objective was achieved in weeks. The political objective was never achieved at all. The U.S. decision to disband the Iraqi army created a vacuum filled not by democratic reformers but by sectarian militias and eventually ISIS. The regime that eventually emerged was not friendly to American interests. It was deeply influenced by Iran. In 2011, the Obama administration led a NATO air campaign in Libya that quickly expanded from civilian protection into regime change. Dictator Moammar Gadhafi was overthrown and killed. But there was no plan for political transition. Chaos and political instability have endured since. Asked what his “worst mistake” was as president, Barack Obama said, “Probably failing to plan for the day after, what I think was the right thing to do, in intervening in Libya.” Libya remains a failed state today. The intervention also sent a powerful signal to countries pursuing nuclear weapons: Gaddhafi had dismantled his nuclear program in 2003. Eight years later, NATO destroyed his regime. Even Kosovo, often cited as the success story of coercive air power, undermines the case. Seventy-eight days of NATO bombing did not, by themselves, compel Slobodan Milosevic, president of the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia, to withdraw. What changed was the credible threat of a ground invasion combined with Russia’s withdrawal of diplomatic support. The political outcome – contested statehood, ongoing ethnic tensions – is hardly the stable governance that air power advocates promise. The pattern is consistent: The United States repeatedly confuses its unmatched capacity to destroy from the air with the ability to dictate political outcomes. Why this war? The recent U.S. attacks on Iran raise a fundamental question: Why is the United States fighting this war at all? The administration has declared regime change as its objective, justifying the campaign on the grounds of Iran’s nuclear program and missile capabilities. But that nuclear program was being actively negotiated in Geneva days before the strikes. And Iran’s foreign minister told NBC the two sides were close to a deal. Then the bombs fell. Iran did not attack America. And it currently does not have the capability to threaten the American homeland. What Iran challenges is Israel’s regional military dominance, and I believe it is Israel’s objective of neutralizing a rival that is driving this operation. Israel targeted 30 senior Iranian leaders in the opening strikes. Israeli officials described it as a preemptive attack to “remove threats to the State of Israel.” I see the strategic logic for these killings as Israel’s, and Americans are absorbing the costs. U.S. military bases in Bahrain, Qatar, Kuwait, the UAE, Jordan, and Saudi Arabia have taken Iranian missile fire. American service members are in harm’s way – three have already been killed – not because Iran attacked them, but I believe because their president committed them to someone else’s war without a clear endgame. Each coercive step in this conflict – from the 2018 withdrawal from the nuclear deal, to the 2020 assassination of Qasem Soleimani, Iran’s most powerful military commander, to the June 2025 strikes – was framed as restoring leverage. Each produced the opposite, eliminating diplomatic off-ramps, accelerating the very threats it aimed to contain. The regime is not one man Decapitation strikes assume that removing a leader removes the obstacle to political change. But Iran’s political system is institutional — the Guardian Council, the Assembly of Experts and the Revolutionary Guard have survived for four decades. The system has succession mechanisms, but they were designed for orderly transitions, not for active bombardment. The group most likely to fill the vacuum is the Revolutionary Guard, whose institutional interest lies in escalation, not accommodation. There is a deeper irony. The largest protests since 1979 swept Iran just weeks ago. A genuine domestic opposition was growing. The strikes have almost certainly destroyed that movement’s prospects. Decades of research on rally-around-the-flag effects – the tendency of populations to unite behind their government when attacked by a foreign power – confirms that external attacks fuse regime and nation, even when citizens despise their leaders. Iranians who were chanting “death to the dictator” are now watching foreign bombs fall on their cities during Ramadan, hearing reports of over 100 children killed in a strike on a girls school in Minab. Trump’s call for Iranians to “seize control of your destiny” echoes a familiar pattern. In 1953, the CIA overthrew Iran’s democratically elected prime minister in the name of freedom. That produced the Shah, the Shah’s brutal reign led to the Iranian Revolution in 1979, and the revolution produced the Islamic Republic now being bombed. What comes next? And what guarantee is there that whatever emerges will be any friendlier to Israel or the United States? What does success look like? This is the question no one in Washington has answered. If the objective is regime change, who governs 92 million people after? If the objective is stability, why are American bases across the Middle East absorbing missile fire? There is no American theory of political endgame in Iran — only a theory of destruction. That theory has been tested in Afghanistan, Iraq and Libya – and Iran itself over the preceding eight months. It has failed every time, not because of poor execution, but because the premise is flawed. Air power can raze a government’s infrastructure. It cannot build the political order that must replace it. Iran, with its sophisticated military, near-nuclear capability, proxy networks spanning the region and a regime now martyred by foreign attack, will likely not be the exception. U.S. law prohibits the assassination of foreign leaders, and instead Israel killed Iran’s supreme leader while American warplanes filled the skies overhead. Washington has called the result freedom at hand, but it has not answered the only question that matters: What comes next?

China's engagement in overseas renewables grew once again, though not as much as in oil and gas Last year, Chinese companies’ “engagement” in 150 countries involved in the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) reached its highest level since the BRI was launched 12 years ago. The value of construction deals involving Chinese companies reached USD 128 billion, up 81% on 2024. While investments totalled USD 85 billion, up 62%. The unprecedented boom has been revealed by annual data from the Griffith Asia Institute, an Australian think-tank, and the Green Finance and Development Center, a think-tank hosted in Fudan University, Shanghai. “I did not foresee last year that 2025 would be such a strong year [for BRI engagement],” said report author Christoph Nedopil Wang during an online launch. “Engagement” refers to both investments by Chinese companies, implying an ownership stake in a project, and the value of construction contracts awarded to them for engineering services. The striking upsurge comes after years of government-directed messaging, and analyst predictions, that the initiative would focus more on “small and beautiful” projects, rather than the mega projects pursued in its early years. “Small yet beautiful should be seen as a bygone,” Nedopil Wang said, noting both the total value of construction and investment deals, and the growth in average project value. Last year also saw notable shifts in the targets for Chinese companies’ activities around the world. Their engagement in renewable-energy projects grew in 2025 but not as rapidly as in oil and gas projects, which will concern many. Rapid growth in engagement in mining, and in the technology and manufacturing sector, demonstrates the evolution of the BRI since it began in 2013. Finally, Africa became the top destination for Chinese companies’ overseas engagement. The end of ‘small and beautiful’? Last year saw a marked rebound in the size of projects. The average value of investments reached USD 939 million, up from USD 672 million in 2024 and three times higher than deal sizes five years ago, during the BRI’s Covid contraction. The average value of construction deals reached USD 964 million, up from USD 496 million the previous year. Nedopil Wang says this indicates the end of “small and beautiful” BRI projects, a term promoted by the Chinese government in response to financial headwinds and the environmental and social problems which arose in the first five years of the initiative. Chinese government discourse has certainly not dropped the emphasis, however. On 27 January, People’s Daily, the official newspaper of the Communist Party of China, stated that “more than 700 aid projects, including … small and beautiful livelihood projects” were delivered overseas in 2025. Booming renewables – and fossil fuels Energy was once again the top sector for engagement in Belt and Road countries, accounting for about 43% of the total. Total engagement in energy sectors reached USD 93.9 billion, the highest ever recorded. However, while just a few years ago renewable-energy projects accounted for nearly half of total energy projects overseas, in 2025 renewables made up just 21%, while fossil fuels accounted for over 75%. Nedopil Wang sees risks in the boom in oil and gas engagement. “I see a rapid rise of oil and gas engagement as an environmental risk due to the associated climate emissions. They also become an economic risk under declining fossil-fuel-demand scenarios driven by electrification of mobility and scaling of green electricity,” which would lead to lower oil and gas demand, respectively, he said. The dominance of oil and gas projects also implies an emphasis on energy extraction, rather than generation. According to the report’s breakdown, the value of investments and contracts in extractive projects amounted to USD 51.4 billion, while generation accounted for USD 25.8 billion. That said, Chinese companies’ engagement in oil and gas projects is primarily via construction contracts rather than equity ownership. This may minimise some of the economic risks Nedopil Wang identifies. When it comes to renewable projects, while these make up a smaller proportion of total energy engagement in 2025, they have seen a marked increase in real terms. Last year saw engagement worth USD 21.4 billion, up from USD 12.3 billion in 2024. “2025 was both the greenest and the brownest year” for the BRI, Nedopil Wang said during the report launch. Renewables, by their nature, also contribute to generation rather than extraction. Last year saw projects worth 23.8 GW of solar, wind and hydro generation capacity, compared to around 15 GW in 2024. “I do not immediately read the surge as a return to fossil-fuel expansion,” notes Fikayo Akeredolu, senior research associate in climate policy and justice at the University of Bristol. She points out that while oil and gas projects accounted for a large proportion of the value of construction contracts in 2025, foreign direct investment from China is supporting renewables. Meanwhile, at least in Africa, lending from China’s government-backed policy banks is backing power-transmission projects. The lending data comes from the recently updated Chinese Loans to Africa database, published by the Boston University Global Development Policy Center. “[We see] a segmentation of instruments, rather than a reversal of China’s energy-transition stance,” Akeredolu says. Moving up value chains Another key sector of growth in 2025 was technology and manufacturing, referring to both traditional manufacturing activities and high-tech areas such as solar PV and batteries. Its growth demonstrates the evolution of the BRI over the last 12 years, from a focus on infrastructure to an increasing interest in developing manufacturing bases overseas. The sector saw 27% year-on-year growth in engagement and has been growing steadily since 2023. Engagement in green tech like solar PV and batteries dropped slightly compared to 2024, however. “The growing role of tech and manufacturing highlights China’s growing ability to build and manage factories (and in particular high-tech-related factories) across the world,” Nedopil Wang said. “While the original BRI engagement was concentrated in infrastructure, the new BRI is seeing the expansion of China’s manufacturing base to overseas markets.” Metals and mining also saw strong engagement in 2025, a record high of USD 32.6 billion. This was dominated by construction contracts for two mega projects in aluminum and steel in Kazakhstan, worth USD 19.5 billion together. However, other regions also saw major deals, the African continent in particular. Interestingly, data from the report shows a higher proportion of engagement in processing rather than extractive mining facilities. Processing of mined minerals and metals is seen by many resource-rich countries as a key strategy for moving up value chains, particularly in green technologies. For now, however, it is unclear if the data represents a trend or simply a one-off. In contrast, transportation infrastructure is in decline, with only USD 13.3 billion, the least since the BRI began life being touted primarily as a global connectivity project. Nedopil Wang suggests this may be connected to problems securing finance for traditional infrastructure projects, including the fall in lending from China’s development finance banks. Africa rising In 2025, the largest market for Chinese companies’ engagements along the BRI was Africa. The Belt and Road partners on the continent saw USD 61.2 billion worth of engagement, a 283% expansion compared to 2024, according to the report. The majority of that engagement was in the form of construction contracts, rather than investment. Nedopil Wang indicates this may have to do with Chinese companies seeking ways to avoid US tariffs. Akeredolu from the University of Bristol points to “Africa’s growing role in resource security amid global supply-chain fragmentation” as another reason shaping the boom in Chinese engagement in African economies. “Whether this is good news for African governments depends on bargaining power,” says Akeredolu. “Where states can secure local content, downstream value addition, or revenue-sharing, opportunities exist. Where engagement is limited to turnkey construction without equity or technology transfer, the developmental upside is thinner.”

For years, the relationship between Mexico and Cuba was portrayed—when not deliberately minimized—as a low-intensity bond: a propagandistic mirage [1], symbolic, rhetorical, or, at best, consistent with a shared Latin Americanist diplomatic tradition upheld by governments of different political orientations during the authoritarian period and the democratic transition. Even under the governments of Morena, closeness with Havana was interpreted by broad sectors of public opinion [2] as an ideological affinity—celebrated or lamented—but largely harmless, devoid of deep material implications and far removed from the organic alignments Cuba maintained—and continues to maintain—with openly authoritarian regimes such as those of Venezuela and Nicaragua. That reading, however, has begun to crack. Amid recent developments, the debate over Cuban influence in Mexico has acquired unprecedented density. The capture of Nicolás Maduro and the evidence pointing to the active presence of Cuban agents within Venezuela’s intelligence and repression apparatus not only revived discussions about Havana’s role as an exporter of authoritarian know-how, but also forced a rethinking of its regional projection beyond the myth of passive survival. Added to this is the sustained increase in shipments of Mexican oil to the island, ordered by the government of Claudia Sheinbaum, which are increasingly being interpreted as a political subsidy to a failed regime rather than as a humanitarian or diplomatic gesture. It is no coincidence, in this context, that influential voices in Mexico’s public debate—such as Carlos Bravo Regidor [3] or Julio Patán [4]—have begun to point out the risks and contradictions of a foreign policy that, while brandishing a sovereigntist and democratic rhetoric, materially sustains one of the hemisphere’s longest-standing dictatorships. What for years was considered irrelevant, exaggerated, or ideologically biased is now beginning to be perceived as a real problem of political coherence and, more importantly, as an institutional risk. This shift in the public conversation is revealing—but also belated. Long before the oil subsidy placed Cuba at the center of the national debate, various analyses had already warned of a growing and multifaceted Cuban influence in Mexico. Authors such as Armando Chaguaceda and Johanna Cilano, in an article published in Letras Libres, [5] as well as multiple reports by the organization Government and Political Analysis A.C. (GAPAC), [6] had previously argued that the relationship between the self-styled Fourth Transformation and the post-Castro regime could not be reduced to symbolic gestures or historical affinities. On the contrary, they pointed to a dynamic of persistent influence across economic, cultural, and political spheres, anchored in material exchanges, institutional networks, and authoritarian promotion. Yet, as has happened for far too long with the disbelief—born of a mixture of naïveté and ideological affinity—toward the domestic reality and global influence of Castroism, no one was listening. [7] From this perspective, the question is not only why Cuba influences Mexico, but why—until now—that influence had been systematically denied, relativized, or normalized. The current conjuncture did not inaugurate the phenomenon; it merely made it media-visible. And in doing so, it forces a critical reassessment of a relationship that, far from being exceptionally innocuous, appears to fit within a regional pattern of authoritarian symbiosis. The Oil Subsidy and the End of Assumed Irrelevance The increase in shipments of Mexican oil to Cuba has functioned as a turning point in public perceptions of the bilateral relationship. For the first time in years, closeness with Havana ceased to be read exclusively in symbolic terms and began to be evaluated in terms of concrete material costs. In a country with severe energy shortages, a heavily indebted state-owned company, and wide unmet social demands, the decision to allocate strategic resources to sustain a foreign regime in crisis could hardly go unnoticed. The controversy lies not only in the volume of oil sent, but in the political meaning of the gesture. According to reports by the Financial Times, [8] Mexico has already become Cuba’s main supplier of crude oil, effectively displacing Chavismo—and other allies such as Russia and Iran—as the island’s primary energy lifeline. This shift is far from trivial: it entails assuming, consciously or not, a role of external support long played by Venezuela, and doing so in a regional context marked by the collapse of the Bolivarian axis and by growing evidence of Havana’s active role in preserving allied authoritarian regimes. With the added threat [9] of tariffs announced by Trump against countries that “sell or otherwise supply oil to Cuba, protecting the national security and foreign policy of the United States from the malign actions and policies of the Cuban regime,” Claudia Sheinbaum’s position becomes even more problematic, exposing Mexico to potential coercive measures by the U.S. administration should oil shipments to the island continue. This policy openly contradicts the Mexican government’s sovereigntist rhetoric. While foreign interference is denounced and national self-determination is invoked, a support scheme is maintained that props up the economic viability of a single-party dictatorship—while compromising national stability. The principle of non-intervention is selectively invoked and disappears when it comes to assisting an ideologically aligned regime. Oil, in this sense, has stripped the bilateral relationship of its rhetorical veil and placed it squarely in the realm of political responsibility. An Influence That Goes Beyond Oil Reducing Cuban influence in Mexico to the energy sphere would nonetheless be analytically insufficient. As recent research [10] has shown, Havana’s regional projection does not depend exclusively on material resources, but on a combination of political, institutional, and symbolic instruments that operate cumulatively and, in many cases, discreetly. One of the most sensitive areas concerns Cuban medical missions. Presented as a pragmatic solution to healthcare system deficits, these missions have been widely questioned for their implications of forced labor, wage retention, and political surveillance. In the Mexican case, the problem is compounded by the opacity of the agreements signed and by the normalization of practices incompatible with basic democratic and labor standards. Health cooperation is not, in this sense, a neutral technical exchange, but rather a mechanism with clear political implications. Added to this are the party-to-party ties [11] between the Communist Party of Cuba and Morena. These exchanges go beyond protocol gestures and constitute spaces of ideological affinity and mutual learning in matters of political mobilization, discursive hegemony-building, and power management in polarized contexts. That Mexico’s ruling party maintains organic relations with an organization that upholds a single-party regime is far from trivial, particularly in light of the growing disdain among some official sectors for institutional checks and balances. The academic and cultural sphere completes this web of influence, as documented by GAPAC. [12] Exchange programs, seminars, and institutional collaborations have at times served as platforms for legitimizing the Cuban model or relativizing its authoritarian nature. Authoritarian influence is rarely imposed abruptly; it more often filters through narratives and interpretive frameworks that gradually erode democratic consensus. The Venezuelan case offers a cautionary tale: for years, Cuban presence was dismissed as opposition exaggeration, until its role within intelligence and repression apparatuses became incontrovertible. The Collapse of a Narrative The renewed interest in Cuba’s influence in Mexico does not stem from a sudden revelation, but from the collapse of a long-standing narrative: that of irrelevance. The oil subsidy has acted as a catalyst, but the phenomenon is broader and deeper. What has now become visible is a relationship characterized by growing political symbiosis that contradicts both the sovereigntist rhetoric of the current Mexican government and its professed commitment to democracy. One in which the leaderships of a new authoritarianism—born of a successful populist and illiberal project—forge close ties with a veteran antiliberal autocracy, whose advisers, agents, and agitators are more than willing to export—chequebook in hand—their accumulated experience in indoctrination, repression, diplomatic influence, and social control. Recognizing this reality does not imply adopting alarmist positions or mechanically extrapolating foreign experiences. Rather, it requires abandoning comfortable myths and acknowledging that threats to contemporary democracy rarely appear abruptly. More often, they take root gradually and asymmetrically, shielded by discourses of solidarity, sovereignty, or social justice. In this sense, the influence of Cuban authoritarianism in today’s Mexico is not a speculative hypothesis, but an uncomfortable reality that demands public scrutiny and political coherence. To evade it is to repeat mistakes that, in other regional contexts, have already produced consequences that are difficult to reverse. References [1] https://confabulario.eluniversal.com.mx/mexico-y-cuba-el-pasado-incomodo/ [2] https://www.nexos.com.mx/?p=71310 [3] https://heraldodemexico.com.mx/opinion/2026/1/13/subsidio-autocratico-758593.html [4] https://heraldodemexico.com.mx/opinion/2026/1/14/el-fracaso-cubano-758900.html [5] https://letraslibres.com/revista/el-elefante-en-la-habitacion-cuba-en-el-mexico-de-la-4t/ [6] https://gobiernoyanalisispolitico.org/cuba-en-america-latina-la-influencia-persistente/ [7] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ExrLPbu6U4 [8] https://www.ft.com/content/f04088c3-66af-4d7c-b5fd-df0e423bd837 [9] https://www.whitehouse.gov/fact-sheets/2026/01/fact-sheet-president-donald-j-trump-addresses-threats-to-the-united-states-by-the-government-of-cuba/ [10] https://www.amecip.com/publicacion/detalle?id=55 [11] https://www.jornada.com.mx/noticia/2025/05/03/politica/partido-comunista-de-cuba-pcc-firma-acuerdo-con-morena [12] https://gobiernoyanalisispolitico.org/mexico-exporta-a-cuba-no-solo-petroleo-tambien-apoyo-academico/

1. Introduction to the conflict In the early 1920s Artsakh (Nagorno-Karabakh), where the overwhelming majority of the population consisted of indigenous Armenians, was annexed to the Azerbaijan SSR. This ultimately led to Artsakh attempting to unite with Armenia in the late 1980s as the Soviet Union began to collapse. The region's Armenian people, facing anti-Armenian pogroms in Azerbaijan, decisively voted to declare their independence from the country. This led to the outbreak of the First Nagorno-Karabakh War in 1988 between the majority ethnic Armenians of Nagorno-Karabakh backed by Armenia, and the Republic of Azerbaijan with support from Turkey. Following thousands of deaths and more than a million displaced people, the war ended in a ceasefire in 1994 with Turkey, a nation that still denies the Armenian Genocide, supporting Azerbaijan and Nagorno-Karabakh. Battles broke up again in 2016, and it concluded in a 44-day war in 2020 that led to Azerbaijan annexing a significant portion of the area along with seven neighboring districts. Figure 1: Nagorno-Karabakh on map. (Source: Wikimedia Commons) 2. Historical context Artsakh, in terms of geopolitics, has a long and complex history, dating several centuries back. Artsakh is celebrated for its strong Armenian cultural and religious identity. It has been a part of the Kingdom of Armenia since at least the 5th century BCE. Through several eras, including the semi-autonomous Armenian states, it remained an integral part of Armenian identity. Artsakh is directly related to Siunik and Utik, its bordering regions, linguistically and ethnographically. One of the earliest known Armenian dialects is the one spoken in Artsakh. In the 7th century AD, the grammarian Stephanos Siunetzi wrote the earliest account of it. (c. NKRUSA) In the early 1800s the Russian Empire annexed the Artsakh region which ended up bringing significant political and demographic changes. The term “Karabakh”, which is a Turkic version of the Persian name for the area, Bagh-e-Siah (meaning “Black Garden”), is frequently used to refer to Artsakh. This phrase is a portion of “Nagorno Karabakh”, which is a simplified version of the Soviet term “Autonomous Region of Mountainous [“Nagorniy” (Нагорный)] Karabakh,” which refers to the Armenian autonomy of Artsakh situated within the Soviet Republic of Azerbaijan of the USSR. (c. NKRUSA) This historical context is crucial in understanding the deep-seated nationalistic and cultural motivations behind the current conflict between Armenia and Azerbaijan over Nagorno-Karabakh. The ancient and medieval Armenian presence in Artsakh is central to Armenia's historical claim to the region. 3. Causes of the conflict How is the Armenian Genocide of 1915 tied to this conflict and how does it play into the mutual disdain between Armenians and Azerbaijanis to this day? The majority of Armenians worldwide are the great-grandchildren and grandchildren of those who survived the 1915 Genocide, and they are witnessing another instance of history as Turkey and Azerbaijan repeatedly massacre and drive out Armenians from regions where they have lived for thousands of years. Furthermore, there is a clear link between the Young Turks' swiftly assembled republic of Azerbaijan in 1918 and the Ottoman Empire of 1915, which sought to establish a presence in the Caucasus. The Young Turks advocated a pan-Turkic philosophy that aims to unite all Turkic peoples from Turkey to Kazakhstan via Azerbaijan, forming a large empire. The president of Turkey at the moment is pro Pan-Turkism. (c. Rajat Ghai, 2023) Perhaps one of the most disrespectful and heartbreaking evidences of the anti-Armenian narrative is the renaming of one of the streets in Stepanakert, the capital of Nagorno-Karabakh, in ‘honor’ of Enver Pasha, one of the main perpetrators of the Armenian Genocide, who was probably the most anti-Armenian official at the time. Following the 1917 Russian Revolution, the Democratic Republics of Armenia and Azerbaijan were established in 1918. The status of Nagorno-Karabakh (Artsakh) became a disputed territory, with claims from both Armenia and Azerbaijan. In 1923, following the formation of the Soviet Union, and Armenia-Azerbaijani wars over this disputed land, Joseph Stalin declared that Nagorno-Karabakh would become an autonomous region within the borders of Azerbaijan SSR. (c. Bulut, 2023). Despite being a part of Azerbaijan, the majority of the population and the cultural identity of the region remained Armenian. For decades, Azerbaijani forces have attempted to control Armenians and force them to recognize Azerbaijani sovereignty through massacres, blockades, and ultimatums. When the Armenians of Artsakh wanted to exercise their right to self-determination, they were confronted with pogroms in Azerbaijan that resulted in the cruel death of Armenians and the theft of their belongings. These pogroms had the intention of frightening Artsakh's Armenian population into leaving or submitting, despite the fact that they had lived there for centuries and had developed and continuously defended their national sovereignty, which was vital to Armenian history. “The first victims of Azerbaijan’s policy to suppress the will of the people of Artsakh were the Armenians of the Azerbaijani city of Sumgait located several hundred kilometers away from Artsakh.” (c. Bulut, 2023) As the Soviet Union started to fall apart in the late 1980s, tensions increased. Violent encounters between Armenians and Azerbaijanis resulted from the Armenian population of Nagorno-Karabakh's desire for unification with Armenia. 4. Conflict dynamics The first Nagorno-Karabakh War (1988–1994): After the USSR collapsed, Armenia and Azerbaijan launched a full-scale war over Nagorno-Karabakh. Armenia finally took control of Nagorno-Karabakh and a number of its neighboring areas by 1994. The area remained in a state of frozen war despite the establishment of a ceasefire but no peace treaty was signed. The second Nagorno-Karabakh War (2020): Six weeks of fighting ensued after reopening of hostilities in September 2020. Turkey and Israel provided major military assistance to Azerbaijan in order for it to retake control of portions of Nagorno-Karabakh and the surrounding areas. A ceasefire mediated by Russia brought the war to an end in November 2020, changing the map significantly and deploying Russian peacekeepers. Nevertheless, the military aggression by Azerbaijan on Armenians hasn't stopped. Azerbaijan and its ally, Turkey, started blockading Artsakh and its citizens (est. 130,000) in December 12, 2022. The Republic of Armenia's former human rights defender, Arman Tatoyan, reported that Artsakh had been without electricity since January 9. There hadn't been any gas since March 21 and no humanitarian help (including food) since June 15. (c. Bulut, 2023) This blockade persisted despite an internationally recognized court order from February 22, 2023, which guarantees the unhindered flow of people, cars, and goods along the Lachin Corridor in both directions, and lasted for 9 months. The forced displacement of Armeanians (2023): Over 100,000 ethnic Armenians left the Republic of Nagorno-Karabakh in the last few days of September 2023 and fled into neighboring Armenia. As has been well documented, the mass escape occurred as a result of Azerbaijan subjecting the Armenian population of Nagorno-Karabakh to a 24-hour period of intense bombing, preceded by a 10-month long blockade and forced starvation, all of which led to the authorities of Nagorno-Karabakh to surrender. Before the occupation, indigenous Armenians had lived in the Nagorno-Karabakh territory for millennia. It is currently estimated by the UN that there are only 50 Armenians remaining. To this day, hundreds of Armenian cultural sites throughout Artsakh are at the risk of being destroyed or appropriated now that Azerbaijan has complete control over Artsakh or Nagorno-Karabakh. Some have already been destroyed or are currently being ‘restored’, as the Azerbaijani government refers to the erasure of their Armenian identity. “Despite the scale and severity of the damages, the erasure of Armenian cultural patrimony by Azerbaijan remains woefully under-reported, in large part due to the regime’s crackdown on independent journalists.” (Nayyar, 2024) 5. Armenia’s main allies Russia The core of Armenia and Russia's military cooperation has been their membership in the Joint CIS Air Defense System and the same military alliance (CSTO). However, due to the continuous tensions between Putin and Pashinyan, Russia appeared to be hesitant to publicly help Armenia in the Second Nagorno-Karabakh War (2020). Criticism of CSTO membership grew within Armenian political circles when the CSTO mission chose a rather uncertain stance in the conflict. Armen Grigoryan, the secretary of the Security Council of Armenia, even stated that he no longer saw any hope for the CSTO. Pashinyan said that Russian peacekeepers sent to uphold the cease-fire agreement were not doing their duties. He also stated that Armenia is attempting to broaden its security partnerships. (c. France 24, 2026) Armenia has withdrawn from a regional security agreement with Russia, stating that Moscow failed to support it in its conflict with Azerbaijan. In recent years, Armenia has taken steps to strengthen ties with the US and the EU while suspending its membership in the Moscow-led Collective Security Treaty Organization. However, there are still strong cultural, linguistic, and economic links to Russia; as is the case with every other former Soviet country. Iran In September 2022, the Iranian foreign minister emphasized that the Iran-Armenia border must not change amid the recurring border tension between Azerbaijan and Armenia. In a meeting with Armenia's Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan in May 2024, Iran's Supreme Leader Ali Khameri highlighted Iran's opposition to any border changes in the South Caucasus. After the conflict between Armenia and Azerbaijan in 2024, Armenia and Iran increased their military relations and discussed a potential $500 million arms deal. (c. Sayeh, 2025) 6. Azerbaijan’s main allies Turkey Azerbaijan's longtime ally Turkey sees Armenia as one of its primary regional enemies. That is evident in Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan’s statement in 2023: “We support the steps taken by Azerbaijan – with whom we act together with the motto of one nation, two states – to defend its territorial integrity”. (c. Al Jazeera, 2023) In addition to military equipment, Turkish assistance takes the form of direct advisors, joint training, and perpetual diplomatic support. Turkey has previously supported Azerbaijan in all regional and global events. However, Turkey's position evolved to one that was more proactive, forceful, and involved by the beginning of the Second Karabakh War. (c. Villar, 2025) Israel Israel serves as Azerbaijan's primary supplier of advanced arms, including intelligence technologies, artillery systems, and Heron and Harop drones. These supplies were significant in the conflicts of 2016 and 2020, where Azerbaijani forces had technological advantage. In exchange, Israel receives intelligence cooperation regarding Iranian operations and general access to an area close to Iran. Additionally, about 40% of Israel's oil demands are met by hydrocarbons from Azerbaijan, making it an essential source for them. (c. Villar, 2025) Russia From 2022 to 2024, relations between Russia and Azerbaijan were at their strongest. The Declaration on Allied Interaction was signed in February 2022, which enhanced relations between both countries. Azerbaijan's president Ilham Aliyev realized that in order to accomplish Azerbaijan's regional goals of gaining control of Nagorno-Karabakh without the Russian peacekeepers and opening the so-called “Zangezur corridor”, he needed to improve ties with Russian President Vladimir Putin. Russia's recognition of Azerbaijan's territorial integrity was the most significant aspect of the Declaration for Baku. In 2024 Russian peacekeepers withdrew from Nagorno-Karabakh entirely. (c. APRI Armenia, 2025) 7. Iran’s concerns Iran's territorial integrity is threatened by the Turkish-Azerbaijani cooperation, according to Iran's political and military leaders. Citing remarks from Turkish and Azerbaijani officials as well as media that support the ‘liberation’ of so-called ‘Southern Azerbaijan’ – which refers to Iran's northwestern provinces with an Azerbaijani majority – the Iranian government has accused both countries of inciting “separatist movements” among Iran's Azerbaijani population. Iran's worries have been increased by what they call “historical distortion” in Azerbaijan's educational system, which promotes expansionist narratives to younger generations by speaking of a ‘Greater Azerbaijan’ that includes territory within Iran. (c. Villar, 2025) 8. EU’s response and involvement “I saw that governments would make grand statements about morality and do nothing. I saw that they would try to take advantage of the unrest in the Caucasus in order to further their own ideological agendas. I saw that it would be the people, my people, the Armenians of Artsakh, who would suffer.” (c. Arslan, 2023) While EU officials and lawmakers have expressed their ‘concerns’ and made vocal statements of sympathy with the people of Nagorno-Karabakh since December, none of the EU's member states or heads of state have attempted to advocate for involvement in Azerbaijan for the protection of the Nagorno-Karabakh population. According to French MEP François-Xavier Bellamy, the EU's decision on Nagorno-Karabakh is turning into a matter between the Parliament and the Commission. The Parliament has voted in favor of imposing sanctions on Azerbaijan, but the European Commission has chosen not to follow through. Ursula von der Leyen, President of the European Commission, traveled to the city of Azerbaijan in July 2022 to announce the deal doubling Azerbaijan's gas imports into the EU. She said that the European Union made the decision to loosen its ties with Russia in favor of more dependable, trustworthy allies like Azerbaijan. She stated: “The European Union is committed to a secure, stable and prosperous South Caucasus”. Azerbaijan has a history of war crimes, violations of human rights, and is ranked very low on freedom indexes. It is also the biggest destabilizer in the South Caucasus. “Azerbaijan exported more than €21bn of gas to countries in the EU between January 2022 and the end of November 2023, according to Eurostat data obtained by openDemocracy. Armenia’s Human Rights Ombudsman’s office made more than 130 public statements warning of threats to ethnic Armenians caused by Azerbaijani military actions in the 18 months before the MoU was signed. Estonian MEP Marina Kaljurand, who heads the Parliament’s delegation for relations with the South Caucasus, told openDemocracy that the commission had “traded EU values for gas”.” (c. Martirosyan & Sargsyan, 2024) The hypocrisy of the European Union is astounding, as they are well aware of the ethnic cleansing that Azerbaijan intends to inflict on Armenians of Nagorno-Karabakh. The idea that the European Union is in decline because of its disregard for morality comes from the EU's decision to support authoritarian governments, such as Azerbaijan and Israel, that are determined to erase Armenians and Palestinians rather than advancing peace and justice. 9. Consequences Although a wave of refugees from the Karabakh war in 2020 was taken in by Armenia, the problem is far more serious. Yerevan is facing pressure not only from its citizens, but also Karabakh Armenians who are unsure of their future and are pulling together the pieces of an integration plan. Azerbaijan had made it clear by openly announcing their intent to annex the Armenian region of Syunik in order to establish an oil pipeline that would link its borders with Turkey, furthering their century-long plan of pan-Turkism. Anti-armenian sentiment has grown into a dominant ideology in Azerbaijan. It rejects any and all claims made by other ethnic groups and civilizations to their territories. It ignores the facts of history. Yerevan, the capital of Armenia, is frequently referred to as an Azerbaijani city by Azerbaijani academics and media. “Baku might want to capitalize on the depopulating of Nagorno-Karabakh with a swift military movement across Armenian territory to control access to Nakhchivan, an exclave region of Azerbaijan bordering Iran. But now that Armenia is poised to join the ICC, Azerbaijan’s political and military leaders would likely risk investigation by the ICC prosecutor of the crime of aggression. That may explain the Armenian Parliament’s rapid move to ratify the Rome Statute – to address not only the fate of ethnic Armenians but to deter any Azerbaijani aggression across its territory.” (c. Scheffer, 2023) 10. The Peace Deal and current situation Under US guidance, Azerbaijan and Armenia signed a peace deal in the beginning of August 2025. The White House declared it historic, and Western media quickly reported that a decades-long dispute had finally been resolved as a result of U.S. President Donald Trump's intervention. But is that really the truth? The United States' involvement in the proposed Zangezur corridor has been criticized by Iran and Russia as an incursion. The peace agreement's failure to address the right of return for former ethnic Armenians who fled Nagorno-Karabakh due to Azerbaijan's nine-month military siege and offensive has also drawn criticism from observers. While the agreement secures the road linking Armenia and the Nagorno-Karabakh region, it is crucial to note that it gives the United States the right to manage and develop the corridor for 99 years. The US would sublease the property to a consortium that would build rail, oil, gas, and fiber optic lines in addition to potentially transmitting electricity along the 43km corridor. This further proves that the true intention behind this initiative was to gain more control by reducing the influence of Russia and Iran in the region. After the parties decided on the agreement form, Azerbaijan stated that before Armenia would sign, it needed to meet two additional demands. First: Baku wanted the two nations to jointly petition the OSCE to abolish the Minsk Group. The issue over “Nagorno-Karabakh”, which Baku interprets as the period of Armenian control, is the focus of the Minsk Group's 1995 mission, which Azerbaijan finds objectionable. The two signed a letter requesting that the OSCE shut down the Minsk Group, fulfilling that demand. The second one was far more concerning, which is Azerbaijan's demand that Armenia change its constitution. Officials from Azerbaijan say they want peace, but only if Armenia gives up its territorial claims. They reject claims that the demand for a constitutional change is unreasonable. The power ultimately stays with Azerbaijan once again. The executive director of the Armenian National Committee of America, Aram Hamparian, stated that “normalizing ethnic cleansing is not peace” and believed that the agreement was based on the erasure of Nagorno-Karabakh, the abandonment of holy sites, the disregard for hostages, and the strengthening of Azerbaijani occupation. The signing of the peace deal left the majority of Armenians in dismay. The general consensus is that the Armenian PM Nikol Pashinyan has betrayed the people of Armenia and Artsakh, and that there should be no peace without justice. 11. Conclusion Peace does not always mean that there is no military conflicts. Aliyev hasn't completely stopped using hostile language toward Armenia. Azerbaijani leaders are emphasizing more and more that the war has ended. However, the president enthusiastically promoted the idea of “Western Azerbaijan” at a speech he gave in November. The normalization effort continues amid the fact that state media and elites, including Aliyev, continue to use anti-Armenian rhetoric for home audiences. Approximately 200 square kilometers of internationally recognized Armenian land are still occupied by Azerbaijan, which they acquired during their offensives in 2022. It is essential for Armenia's future administration to seek justice. In order to foster lasting peace, the first step is recognizing history. The fact that even Adolf Hitler admitted the massacre in 1939 makes the demand for greater acknowledgment all the more urgent. The Armenian Genocide served as a model for what he was about to achieve in Poland: “I have placed my death-head formations in readiness – for the present only in the East – with orders to them to send to death mercilessly and without compassion, men, women, and children of Polish derivation and language. Only thus shall we gain the living space (lebensraum) which we need. Who, after all, speaks today of the annihilation of the Armenians?” Polish-Jewish lawyer Raphael Lemkin coined the term “genocide” in 1943-1944 to refer to the deliberate annihilation of peoples. After hearing about the trial of Soghomon Tehlirian in 1921, who killed a major perpetrator of the Armenian Genocide, he started studying mass exterminations. The term was developed to describe the mass atrocities against Armenians in order to define the Holocaust. The word itself would not exist without the Armenian Genocide, and yet, it is officially recognized by just 35 nations. Not enough people are prepared to stand up for victims and potential victims; too many would be happy to complete what was begun in the 1910s and ignore the Armenian people in the name of Turkish nationalism. If there is another threat of genocidal intent against Armenia and its people, we cannot and we must not turn a blind eye. Acknowledgements: This article would not have been possible without the guidance and encouragement of prof. Catherine Gallagher, as well as the continuous support of Aloui Nazek Elmalaika. References N/D, N. (n.d.). Nagorno Karabakh (artsakh): Historical and geographical perspectives. Nagorno Karabakh (Artsakh): Historical and Geographical Perspectives. http://www.nkrusa.org/country_profile/history.shtml Bulut, U. (2023, August 2). Armenians of Artsakh: An indigenous nation targeted by genocidal regional powers. Modern Diplomacy. https://moderndiplomacy.eu/2023/08/03/armenians-of-artsakh-an-indigenous-nation-targeted-by-genocidal-regional-powers/ Nayyar, R. (2024, June 6). Azerbaijan’s destruction of Armenian heritage in Artsakh continues unabated. Hyperallergic. https://hyperallergic.com/920367/azerbaijan-destruction-of-armenian-heritage-in-artsakh-continues-unabated/ Ghai, R. (2023, October 7). Nagorno-Karabakh brings back painful memories of 1915 for Armenians globally: Avedis Hadjian. Down To Earth. https://www.downtoearth.org.in/interviews/governance/nagorno-karabakh-brings-back-painful-memories-of-1915-for-armenians-globally-avedis-hadjian-92178 Klonowiecka-Milart, A., & Paylan, S. (2023, October 31). Forced displacement of Armenians from Nagorno-Karabakh: A response. Opinio Juris. https://opiniojuris.org/2023/11/06/forced-displacement-of-armenians-from-nagorno-karabakh-a-response/ Vartanian, V. (2023, August 21). EU hypocrisy on Azerbaijan deafening - the Armenian mirror. Spectator. https://mirrorspectator.com/2023/08/19/eu-hypocrisy-on-azerbaijan-deafening/ Martirosyan, L., & Sargsyan, S. (2024, January 30). EU & Azerbaijan: Business as usual amid “ethnic cleansing.” openDemocracy. https://www.opendemocracy.net/en/eu-armenia-refugee-war-azerbaijan-gas-energy-russia-security-rights/ Arslan, A. (2023, November 20). Europe has failed Armenia: Antonia Arslan. 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The Armenian Weekly. https://armenianweekly.com/2025/12/14/the-strategic-triangle-azerbaijan-israel-and-turkey-in-the-new-caucasus-order/ CPC | Between Ankara and Jerusalem: Strategic dynamics among Azerbaijan, Türkiye, and Israel. (n.d.). Caspian Policy Center. https://www.caspianpolicy.org/research/security/between-ankara-and-jerusalem-strategic-dynamics-among-azerbaijan-turkiye-and-israel APRI Armenia. (2025, November 3). Azerbaijan’s Calculated Confrontation with Russia: From Tension to Advantage - APRI Armenia | Applied Policy. APRI Armenia | Applied Policy Research Institute of Armenia. https://apri.institute/azerbaijans-calculated-confrontation-with-russia-from-tension-to-advantage/ 24, France. (6 Feb. 2026,) “Diplomatic Shift and Elections See Armenia Battle Russian Disinformation.” France 24, FRANCE 24 www.france24.com/en/live-news/20260206-diplomatic-shift-and-elections-see-armenia-battle-russian-disinformation News.am. 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1. The Strategic Importance of Space Development: A Measure of National Competitiveness Space has evolved beyond being a domain of scientific exploration to become a crucial strategic asset that determines a nation's survival and prosperity. Whereas the space race during the Cold War was primarily a "pride competition" to showcase ideological superiority, space development in the 21st century has become a practical battlefield for controlling economic, security, and technological dominance. First, the importance of space in national security and military aspects. Modern warfare is fundamentally an "information war." Real-time surveillance through reconnaissance satellites, precision strike capabilities using GPS, and high-speed satellite communication networks form the backbone of contemporary military power. Nations that fail to secure space assets risk becoming "blind" in terms of information, which can lead to critical gaps in their defense capabilities. The global trend of establishing "space forces" is a direct result of space becoming firmly established as the 4th battlefield, after land, sea, and air. Second, the economic value and creation of new industries. With the onset of the "New Space" era, the private sector-led space industry is growing explosively. Building a global internet network using small satellite constellations, space tourism, and the manufacturing of ultra-precise semiconductors or new drugs in space are generating enormous value. Moreover, rare resources like rare earth elements and helium-3 found on the Moon or asteroids are seen as the final hope for solving Earth's resource depletion issues. Nations that secure these resources will likely control the future global economy. Third, the spillover effect on science and technology. Space development involves overcoming extreme environmental challenges, and the technologies developed — such as rocket propulsion, advanced materials engineering, artificial intelligence, and robotics — spill over into civilian industries, revolutionizing daily life. Technologies like water purifiers, microwaves, and cordless vacuum cleaners were all originally spin-offs from space exploration. In this way, investment in space development serves as a lever to elevate a nation's overall technological level. Lastly, international status and diplomatic influence. Countries that possess independent launch vehicle technology and satellite operations capabilities gain strong influence in the international arena. Space development requires significant capital and highly advanced technologies, and nations that succeed in this field acquire symbolic capital as "technological powerhouses." This helps them play a leading role in international cooperation frameworks and enhances national pride. In conclusion, space development is not merely a future investment but an essential national strategy to protect current security and secure future resources. As the saying goes, "He who controls space, controls the Earth," pioneering the path to space is a mission for sustainable national development in this era. 2. The History of South Korea's Space Development. South Korea’s Space Development History: A Record of Challenges from Nothing to Something South Korea's journey in space development began later than that of many advanced nations, yet it has grown at an extraordinarily rapid pace — so much so that it is hard to find a parallel in the world. From laying the foundation in the early 1990s, South Korea has risen to become one of the top seven space-faring nations in just about 30 years. This journey marks the transformation from a "follower" to a "leader" in space development. 2.1. South Korea's Satellites The journey began in August 1992 with the launch of Arirang-1, South Korea’s first satellite. Built in collaboration with a British university, this small satellite was the first "eye" South Korea sent into space, making the country the 22nd nation in the world to have a satellite in orbit. Throughout the 1990s, South Korea focused on domestically producing satellite bodies and payload technology, notably through the Arirang series and multipurpose satellites, laying the foundation for the country’s space technology. Figure 1. Timeline of South Korea's Satellites (Source: Namu Wiki) 2.2. South Korea's Launch Vehicles The development of launch vehicles began in earnest in the 2000s. In 2002, South Korea successfully launched its first liquid-propelled scientific rocket, KSR-III, which helped the country accumulate crucial rocket engine technology. This laid the groundwork for the construction of the Naro Space Center in 2009, the heart of South Korea's space development. However, the road to self-sufficiency in launch vehicles was challenging. The Naro rocket (KSLV-I), developed in cooperation with Russia, faced two failed launches, a painful setback. Despite these failures, South Korea achieved a historic milestone with the successful launch of Naro-3 in January 2013, sending a domestically built satellite into space for the first time. The success of Naro-3 became a springboard for the development of South Korea’s indigenous launch vehicle, the Nuri rocket (KSLV-II). Unlike the Naro rocket, which used Russian engines, the Nuri rocket had to be entirely designed, built, tested, and operated with South Korean technology — a monumental challenge. After an incomplete success in its first launch in 2021, South Korea achieved full success with the second launch of Nuri in June 2022. With this achievement, South Korea became the seventh country in the world to launch a practical satellite weighing over 1 ton using a domestically developed launch vehicle. The country's progress continues at an even faster pace. In August 2022, South Korea launched the Korea Pathfinder Lunar Orbiter (KPLO), the country’s first lunar orbiter, which successfully entered lunar orbit. This marks South Korea's first step beyond low Earth orbit and into deep space exploration. Additionally, South Korea’s Space Agency (KASA), responsible for overseeing space development, officially opened in May 2024 in Sacheon, Gyeongsangnam-do, aligning the country's space policies with specialized expertise and consistency. Currently, South Korea is following an ambitious “Space Economy Roadmap”, which includes plans to launch a lunar lander in 2032 and a Mars exploration mission by 2045. Moving past the phase of technology imitation, South Korea is now advancing its capabilities in cutting-edge reconnaissance satellites, small satellite constellations, and high-performance next generation launch vehicles, positioning itself as a leading player in the global exploration of humanity’s new frontiers. Here is the Timeline of South Korea’s Launch Vehicles (Source: Wikipedia). Note: KSR: Korea Sounding Rocket (Korean Scientific Observation Rocket). KSLV: Korea Space Launch Vehicle (Korean Space Launch Vehicle: I represents the Naro series, II represents the Nuri series) • 1377: During the 3rd year of King Uwang of the Goryeo Dynasty, Choi Mu-seon created the first Korean rocket, called "Juhwa" (走火), later known as "Shingijeon". • 1451: The 1st year of King Munjong of the Joseon Dynasty, Munjonghwacha (a fire-wheeled vehicle, a type of rocket). • 1958 January: Inha University establishes a Department of Weapons Engineering. • 1958: The Ministry of Defense establishes a rocket research organization at the Agency for Defense Development (ADD). • 1959 July: ADD successfully launches a two-stage rocket (67th rocket) and a three-stage rocket (556th rocket) from the coastal area of Gojan-dong, Incheon. • 1960 November 15: Inha University develops the IITO-1A rocket. • 1960 November 19: Inha University develops the IITO-2A rocket. • 1960 November 19: Test launch of the IITO-1A and IITO-2A rockets from the waters off Songdo, Incheon, at 3:50 PM. • 1961: ADD disbanded. • 1962 April: Inha University establishes the Inha Rocket Research Society. • 1964 May: Inha Rocket Research Society launches the IITO-1A from the coast of Gojan-dong, Incheon. • 1964 October: Inha Rocket Research Society launches the IIT-3A rocket, which fails. • 1964 December: Inha Rocket Research Society launches the two-stage rocket IITA-4MR. • 1964 December: Inha Rocket Research Society launches the largest three-stage rocket, IITA-7CR, using a solid propellant from Japan. • 1970: Air Force Academy's Park Gui-yong and Jo Ok-chan's team launch the AXR-55 rocket with asphalt propellant, supported by the Ministry of Science and Technology. • 1971: Air Force Academy launches the AXR-73 rocket with asphalt propellant. • 1972: ADD begins rocket research. • 1972 December: Air Force Academy launches the AXR-300 rocket, with a total of three launches. • 1978: ADD develops the domestic medium-range ballistic missile, Baekgom, modeled after the U.S. Nike Hercules. • 1986: Inha University begins the development of the IS-X rocket series under the Inha Rocket Research Society. • 1987: The Space Science Institute of the Korea Astronomy and Space Science Institute (KASI) is established to start developing scientific rockets. • 1988 February: Inha University launches IS-001 and IS-002 rockets. • 1988: Scientific rocket development project is selected as a specific research task by the Ministry of Science and Technology. • 1988 December: Inha Rocket Research Society presents the IS-X research report. • 1989 October: The Korea Aerospace Research Institute (KARI) is established. • 1993 June: KARI launches the solid rocket KSR-I (KSR-420) from the Anheung Test Site on the west coast. • 1993 September: KARI successfully launches KSR-I (KSR-420) for the second time from Anheung Test Site. • 1995: South Korea develops its first pressurized liquid-fueled rocket engine with a thrust of 13 tons. • 1996: South Korea establishes its Mid- and Long-Term National Space Development Plan, aiming to achieve the capability to launch low-earth orbit satellites independently by 2010. • 1997 July 9: KARI launches the two-stage solid scientific rocket KSR-II. • 1998: The 5th Science and Technology Ministers' Meeting approved the modification of the national space development plan, shortening the goal for independent satellite launches to 2005. • 2000: The second revision of the space development plan is approved, setting goals for securing small satellite launch vehicle technology by 2005, 1-ton practical satellite launch technology by 2010, and 1.5-ton practical satellite launch technology by 2015. • 2002: KARI launches South Korea's first liquid-propelled scientific rocket, KSR-III. • 2004: South Korea and Russia sign a space technology cooperation agreement. • 2006: South Korea and Russia sign a space technology protection agreement. • 2008: KARI develops a 30-ton rocket engine, completing prototype development and partial testing of the turbo pump-gas generator system. • 2008: KARI begins the development of a 75-ton rocket engine. • 2008: The Naro Space Center is completed. • 2009 August 25: KARI attempts the first launch of Naro-1 (KSLV-I), South Korea's first satellite launch vehicle. The launch fails due to fairing separation issues. • 2010 June 10: KARI attempts the second launch of Naro-2. The rocket explodes during flight, resulting in failure. • 2013 January 30: KARI successfully launches the Naro-3, sending the Naro Scientific Satellite into orbit and achieving successful communication. • 2015 July 30: South Korea announces the successful completion of the first phase of the Korean launch vehicle development program. • 2018 November 28: South Korea successfully launches the Nuri Rocket (KSLV-II) test vehicle. • 2018: South Korea successfully launches the Arirang 2 satellite. • 2021 October 21: South Korea attempts the first launch of the Nuri rocket. The launch fails. • 2022 June 21: South Korea successfully launches the Nuri rocket (KSLV-II) for the second time. • 2023 May 25: South Korea successfully launches the Nuri Rocket (KSLV-II) for the third time. • 2025 November 27: South Korea successfully launches the Nuri Rocket (KSLV-II) for the fourth time. Upcoming Launches: • 2026: The 5th launch of the Nuri rocket. • 2027: The 6th launch of the Nuri rocket. • 2030: Development of the next generation launch vehicle. • 2035: Development of a large geostationary launch vehicle. Figure 2. South Korea’s Space Development Progress Plan 3. Nuri Rocket (KSLV-II) Technical Characteristics: The Core Mechanisms of the Korean Launch Vehicle The Nuri Rocket (KSLV-II) is the first space launch vehicle to be entirely developed using South Korea's independent technology, from design and production to testing and launch operations. This achievement is not just about launching a rocket; it represents a significant technological milestone in securing sovereign control over the "transportation vehicle" to space, marking immense technical value. The most critical technological achievement of the Nuri Rocket is the indigenous development of the 75-ton liquid rocket engine. The Nuri Rocket consists of three stages: the first stage contains four 75-ton engines clustered together to form a 300-ton engine; the second stage uses one 75-ton engine; and the third stage carries one 7-ton engine. The 75-ton engines, in particular, represent a complex technological achievement, as they must reliably burn extremely cold oxidizers at -183°C and high-pressure fuel — technologies that demand advanced precision. The Key Technical Features: 1. Engine Clustering Technology: The first stage of the Nuri Rocket uses four 75-ton engines arranged in a cluster. These engines must operate as though they were a single engine, requiring precise synchronization. To prevent combustion imbalances or vibrations between the engines, advanced synchronization technology has been applied. This ensures that the rocket achieves stable thrust. Even the slightest error in one of the four engines would cause the rocket to deviate from its flight path, making this clustering technology a central achievement of Nuri. 2. Lightweight Structure and Large-Scale Component Manufacturing: For efficient launch, the rocket structure needs to be both strong and as lightweight as possible. The fuel tanks of the Nuri Rocket are made with walls as thin as 2mm to 3mm, showcasing an advanced level of manufacturing. The large aluminum sheets used for the tanks are precisely welded, and high-pressure resistance is ensured through spinning and specialized welding techniques. These methods represent cutting-edge manufacturing capabilities in the aerospace field. 3. Cryogenic and High-Temperature Environment Control: The Nuri Rocket has to manage two extreme conditions simultaneously — cryogenic temperatures to store liquid oxidizers and high temperatures reaching thousands of degrees Celsius during engine combustion. To handle these conditions, specialized thermal insulation and heat-resistant materials are used. Additionally, the rocket's gimbaling system, which controls the angle of the engines to adjust the direction of flight, is designed to function perfectly even under high acceleration and in vacuum conditions. 4. Indigenous Flight Control and Guidance Software: The brain of the Nuri Rocket is its flight control computer, which automatically calculates and adjusts the trajectory from launch to orbit insertion. With algorithms developed entirely using domestic technology, this computer can precisely place satellites into their intended orbits without external assistance. This capability is crucial for national security, as it involves the precise and autonomous control of satellite launches. 5. Satellite Separation and Deployment Technology: As demonstrated during the third launch of Nuri, the ability to deploy multiple satellites at specific time intervals without causing collisions is a highly precise mechanism. This technology is essential for building large-scale satellite constellations in the future, laying the groundwork for future advancements in space. Overall, the Nuri Rocket's design and development represent a comprehensive mastery of advanced space technologies and mark South Korea’s leap into the forefront of space exploration. 4. Nuri Rocket (KSLV-II) Launch Achievements: Milestones in Expanding South Korea’s Space Territory The successful launch of Nuri Rocket (KSLV-II), South Korea’s domestically developed launch vehicle, is not just the achievement of putting a rocket into orbit; it represents a significant accomplishment in terms of national prestige and technological self-reliance. Through three major launches, South Korea has firmly joined the ranks of "space powers." The most notable achievement is South Korea's entry into the "Top 7 Space Powers." With the success of the Nuri Rocket, South Korea became the 7th country (after Russia, the U.S., Europe, China, Japan, and India) capable of independently launching a 1-ton or heavier practical satellite into low Earth orbit. This means South Korea has secured complete sovereignty over its "transportation vehicle" for space exploration and development, enabling the country to launch satellites at its desired time without relying on other countries. Examining the step-by-step launch achievements reveals a clear progression: 1st Launch (October 2021): South Korea successfully launched a satellite simulator to a target altitude of 700 km, proving the performance of the engine in flight. Although the rocket failed to reach orbit due to an early shutdown of the third-stage engine, the launch confirmed that most of the challenges in developing large liquid rockets had been overcome. 2nd Launch (June 2022): South Korea successfully deployed the performance verification satellite into its designated orbit. This moment proved the reliability of the launch vehicle, entirely built with 100% domestic technology, to the world. 3rd Launch (May 2023): The third launch successfully carried out a "real-world mission," deploying eight operational satellites, including Next-Generation Small Satellite 2. Notably, the technology to separate multiple satellites sequentially was successfully demonstrated, proving the launch vehicle’s operational capabilities. Industrial Achievements: The development of Nuri involved over 300 domestic companies. This collaboration allowed private companies to accumulate expertise in component design, assembly, and testing for large-scale scientific projects. This shift in expertise has accelerated the transition from Old Space (government-led space programs) to New Space (private-sector-led space ventures). Companies like Hanwha Aerospace have emerged, marking the start of a full-fledged aerospace industry ecosystem. National Security and Diplomatic Achievements: The technology behind launch vehicles has significant overlap with that of intercontinental ballistic missiles (ICBMs). Therefore, the success of Nuri symbolizes South Korea’s strong national deterrence and technological stature. Additionally, owning an independent launch vehicle has enhanced South Korea’s negotiating power in international space collaborations, such as the Artemis Program, enabling the country to participate as an equal partner in global space exploration initiatives. Public Sentiment and National Pride: Finally, Nuri has instilled a sense of pride and hope among the South Korean people. The journey from nothing to becoming a space power in 30 years has ignited a sense of ambition and a spirit of challenge in the younger generation. The ongoing 4th to 6th launch series will further increase the reliability of the rocket, laying a strong foundation for South Korea’s expanding space economy. Future missions, including the lunar lander launch, will help to further broaden South Korea's space economic territory. In conclusion, the successful launches of Nuri Rocket not only establish South Korea as a key player in space exploration but also highlight its technological self-sufficiency and the evolving space industry, setting the stage for continued advancements in space exploration. 5. Economic Competitiveness and Commercialization of the Space Industry: New Growth Drivers in the 'New Space' Era In the past, space development was seen as a massive budget expenditure aimed at enhancing national prestige. However, we have now entered the era of the ‘Space Economy’, which generates tremendous added value. Particularly, the commercialization strategy led by private companies is fundamentally reshaping the space industry’s paradigm. First, Revolutionary Reductions in Launch Costs Have Opened the Doors to Commercialization: The "reusable rocket" technology introduced by SpaceX has lowered launch costs to a fraction of what they once were — about one-tenth of previous levels. Building on the success of the Nuri Rocket, South Korea is also working to enhance its economic competitiveness through the development of next generation launch vehicles. As launch costs decrease, more companies will be able to venture into space, leading to the diversification of commercial services in the space sector. Second, Miniature Satellite Constellations Are Opening New Markets for Commercial Services: Instead of a single large satellite, hundreds or thousands of small satellites in low Earth orbit are now being launched to create global, ultra-high-speed internet networks, as seen with the Starlink model. This approach targets underserved areas like remote islands, airplanes, and ships, generating significant revenue. South Korean companies such as Hanwha Systems and KAI are actively entering the satellite communications and Earth observation data markets to enhance their commercial competitiveness. Third, Space Resource Mining and Manufacturing Offer New Opportunities: Resources like helium-3 (a potential energy source) on the Moon, and rare minerals from asteroids, are expected to be at the heart of future resource wars. Additionally, In-space Manufacturing in zero-gravity environments allows us to produce ultra-pure fiber optics, large single-crystal semiconductors, and 3D-printed bioengineered organs — products that are impossible to create on Earth. These high-value products promise to offset transportation costs and generate substantial commercial profits. Fourth, Spin-offs and Technology Transfer to the Private Sector: The technology developed for the Nuri Rocket being transferred to integrated companies (such as Hanwha Aerospace) is an example of how public-sector-led technologies can be turned into commercial business ventures. By increasing domestic production rates and establishing mass production systems, South Korea can enter global supply chains, generating economic success through exports of launch vehicle components and subsystems to the international market. Finally, the Rise of the Space Tourism and Services Market: Private space travel, led by companies such as Blue Origin and Virgin Galactic, is already creating a premium market with ticket prices in the hundreds of thousands of dollars. This trend goes beyond mere tourism and is driving the growth of related industries, including space hotels, space funerals, and space insurance. In conclusion, the commercialization of the space industry goes beyond technological perfection and depends on the ‘sustainability of profit models’. South Korea, building on the technological foundation established by the Nuri Rocket’s success, must combine private creativity and capital to develop economic strategies aimed at increasing its share in the global space market. Space has now transitioned from being merely a domain of exploration to a highly competitive business arena. 6. Next-Generation Launch Vehicle Plans South Korea's next-generation launch vehicle (commonly referred to as KSLV-III) plan can be summarized in one sentence: "After Nuri (1.5-ton class), develop a larger launch vehicle capable of sending a lunar lander into space with a focus on the private sector, and aim to launch a lunar mission (lander) in the early 2030s." Key Goals: • Development of a Next-Generation Launch Vehicle aimed at launching a lunar lander. • Nuri Rocket will undergo repeated launches and technology transfer to the private sector by 2027, after which the focus will shift to the next generation launch vehicle. Timeline (Overview): • The goal is to have the first launch of the next-generation vehicle by 2030. • The next generation launch vehicle for the lunar lander mission is expected to be ready by 2033. o Different documents may refer to these milestones as "first launch in 2030" and "lunar lander mission launch in 2033," but it’s generally understood as a staged process from initial flight testing to lunar mission deployment. Propulsion System (Direction): • The development emphasizes private sector leadership and public-private cooperation, enhancing the "industry-led" approach compared to the previous Nuri system. What About Reusability? • Officially, reusable launch vehicles haven’t been confirmed yet. However, discussions in space policy and industry circles often mention reusability as part of the next-generation vehicle's advancement, reflecting a trend toward incorporating modern launch technologies. Development Strategy: • The next generation launch vehicle is set to transition from Nuri (1.5-ton class) to larger launch vehicles capable of handling lunar lander missions. • The government and KARI (Korea Aerospace Research Institute) plan to achieve initial flight by 2030, with a lunar mission (lander launch) targeted for 2033. o The process will follow a step-by-step roadmap, from initial testing to deployment for lunar missions. Key Focus: • The development approach is shifting from state-driven initiatives to private sector-driven and public-private partnership models, aiming to expand industrial capabilities. • Reusability and other advanced technologies will likely be incorporated into the development process but are not yet finalized as the primary technical path. They remain a consideration under the broader goal of next generation launch vehicle refinement. Conclusion: South Korea's next generation launch vehicle plan is centered on industrialization and operational experience accumulated from the Nuri rocket. The long-term goal is to achieve lunar lander missions in the early 2030s, marked by larger, more advanced rockets, and a shift toward a private-sector-led space industry.

Donald Trump delivered an ultimatum to Iran at the first board of peace meeting in Washington on February 19. He told Tehran to reach a “meaningful” deal with the US within ten to 15 days, or “really bad things” will happen. White House press secretary Karoline Leavitt had earlier said there are many arguments for taking military action in Iran. These comments came as reports indicated that the latest round of indirect talks between the two countries in Switzerland on February 17 had made at least some headway. Iran’s foreign minister, Abbas Araghchi, emerged from the negotiations hailing what he saw as “good progress”. He added that the US and Iran had reached an understanding on “guiding principles”. The assessment of US representatives was less positive. Despite acknowledging that “in some ways” the talks went well, US vice-president J.D. Vance said Iran was refusing to acknowledge core US demands. The US wants Iran to dismantle its nuclear programme completely, reduce the number and range of its ballistic missiles and end its support for regional proxy groups. Following the talks, the US has continued to reinforce its military presence in the Middle East. Cargo planes, fighter jets, refuelling tankers and an aircraft carrier have been moved to the region, with a second aircraft carrier expected to arrive soon. According to the New York Times, the buildup of US forces in the Middle East is now sufficient for Trump to order military action at any moment. Iran appears to be gearing up for a confrontation. Its military held joint drills with Russia on February 19, days after the Strait of Hormuz was closed temporarily as Iran carried out live-fire exercises. And while emphasising that it “neither seeks tension nor war”, Iran has told the UN that if it were attacked it would consider “all bases, facilities and assets of the hostile force” in the region as “legitimate targets”. These developments come less than a week after hundreds of thousands of people, largely from the Iranian diaspora, demonstrated in cities worldwide. They did so in solidarity with protesters who took to the streets of Iran in January to demand regime change. In late December, protests that began over worsening economic conditions quickly spread nationwide in one of the most serious threats to Iran’s political establishment since the Woman, Life, Freedom protest movement of 2022. That protest wave began after the death of a 22-year-old women called Mahsa Amini in police custody. This time round, the Iranian authorities imposed a near-total internet shutdown, creating a nationwide communications blackout in an effort to suppress the unrest. Human rights groups say thousands of people were killed, while many more were injured, detained or remain missing, in what was one of the most severe crackdowns in Iran’s modern history. According to local police, around 250,000 people rallied on February 14 in the German city of Munich alone, where world leaders had gathered for Europe’s biggest security conference. Many of those in attendance waved flags bearing the lion and sun emblem of Iran that was used before the Islamic revolution in 1979 ended the Pahlavi dynasty. Israeli and American flags were also visible at many of the rallies. This has widely been seen as a call for foreign intervention against Iran’s clerical leadership. Trump had raised the prospect of US military action during the unrest, urging the Iranian people to continue protesting and telling them that help was “on its way”. Such action now appears likely. Brink of war Iran’s fate is hanging in the balance. The deployment of US military assets to the Middle East suggests Trump may be preparing for imminent military action. However, despite making no secret of his desire to topple the Iranian regime, there is still a chance that Trump settles for a diplomatic agreement with the country’s leadership. Iranian opposition voices, including exiled crown prince Reza Pahlavi, say such a deal would only prolong the survival of the Islamic Republic rather than address the demands of people in Iran for regime change. In an interview with American political commentator Glenn Beck on February 11, Pahlavi called the negotiations between the US and Iran “another slap in the face of the Iranian people”. But the prospects that any deal will be reached look slim. The US and Iran remain in fundamental disagreement over Tehran’s nuclear programme and have been unable to reach a deal since the Trump administration withdrew the US from a previous agreement in 2018 that had been negotiated by the Obama administration. Many people, including the US vice-president, are also sceptical that Iran’s authorities will budge on additional US demands around ballistic missiles and proxy groups like Hamas and Hezbollah – whether or not they are threatened with military action. Iran’s future is murky. But one thing is for certain: with war or without war, the Iranian people have started a revolution that has extended beyond their country’s borders.