Days before the publication of last week’s report into Russian activity in the UK, and the subsequent call from several UK parliamentarians for a swift response to the ‘Russian threat’, Russia tested a new anti-satellite weapon capability releasing a small projectile from its Kosmos-2543 sub-satellite.

Kosmos-2543, a small satellite contained inside a larger satellite, Kosmos-2542, and 'birthed’ into orbit in late 2019, recently came under scrutiny in January 2020 when it was reportedly caught ‘buzzing’ US spy satellites in Low Earth Orbit.

By releasing a small projectile from the Kosmos-2543 sub-satellite, the US claims that Russia has launched a new projectile into orbit with relatively high speed – estimated at around 500 km per hour – leading to concerns about the potential of Russia to develop this technology as a weapon to target foreign satellites.

It is not the first time Moscow has relied on a Russian doll – or matryoshka – approach to launching satellites into outer space. In October 2017, a sub-satellite, Kosmos-2521, was ejected from its main satellite, Kosmos-2519, into a high-speed object in low orbit.

The Russian Ministry of Defence has declared that its latest activity is just for ‘routine’ inspections and surveillance of Russia’s other space assets, with the government’s official statement avoiding recognizing the existence of the new object while, at the same time, Kremlin spokesperson, Dmitry Peskov, recalling Russia’s commitment for the ‘complete demilitarization’ of space.

While it is possible that Russia’s matryoshka satellites have indeed been developed to carry out routine repairs of Russia’s space fleet, they also have the potential to interfere with, and destroy, other satellites with such action needing to be considered a threat until Russia demonstrates otherwise.

Russia’s use of outer space

Russia is not the only state investigating anti-satellite weaponry capabilities. There is a wider trend (e.g. China, India, US) to demonstrate advanced space capabilities with nefarious, if not directly offensive, intent. But, for the past few years, Russia in particular, has been provocative in testing its space weapon capabilities. 

For example, in April 2020, Russia launched and tested into low orbit the PL-19 Nudol direct-ascent anti-satellite (DA-ASAT) interceptor missile system from the Plesetsk Cosmodrome demonstrating its space assets with potential offensive capabilities, in particular, Russia’s capacity to destroy satellites in Low Earth Orbit.

In addition, the satellites, Kosmos-2535 and Kosmos-2536, launched in July 2019, are also suspected to be operating beyond their official mission of studying Russian orbital assets. It is reported that these satellites conducted a close proximity activity, coming within one kilometre from each other, which led to the creation of orbital debris.

Russia’s space strategy

By exploiting asymmetric advantages in space, Russia seeks to leverage its capabilities against competitors in space and in other domains, falling in line with its wider military strategy as well as its current Federal Space Programme for 2016 to 2025.

Russian space activities also have a cyber and electronic warfare angle. With the help of remote-sensing capabilities, Russian spy satellites potentially seek to disrupt military and civilian satellite communications and navigation systems. Indeed, in 2018, French authorities publicly accused Russia of seeking to intercept communication satellites for French and Italian armed forces putting data transmission through Western civilian and military satellites at risk of interception.

Furthermore, earlier this year, both Kosmos-2542 and 2543 came within 160 kilometres of a US spy satellite, US KH-11, similarly to Russia ‘buzzing’ around the British Isles or submarine surveillance that Norway and Sweden have been subjected to recently.

Shadowing and tailing in space is regarded as spying and this recent anti-satellite weapon test is part of a trend which demonstrates Russia’s persistent space strategy for close-proximity operations with foreign countries.

Orbital hypocrisy

Despite Russia’s calls for a treaty to prevent the placement of weapons in outer space, there remains little international trust in Russia’s behaviour in space so far with a US-Russia Space Security Exchange meeting scheduled to take place in Vienna on 27 July to discuss outer space stability and security.

This is amid a backdrop of bilateral nuclear arms control talks on the extension of the extant nuclear weapons reduction treaty, New START, which is scheduled to expire in February 2021. There is no guarantee, however, that the talks will achieve anything especially since the future of outer space requires a wider multilateral dialogue with all parties involved – including China.

Anti-satellite tests (ASATs) are a particularly dangerous form of weapon. Not only do they create major vulnerabilities in a domain where so much of humanity depends on for navigation, communications and environmental monitoring, they are also primarily a target for destabilization and undermining global positioning information in times of crisis.

And, perhaps most significantly, they possess the highly destructive potential to create even more space debris in Earth’s orbits that endanger the peaceful use of satellites and could do serious damage to large parts of the economies of developed and developing countries.

Avoiding space warfare

Space is for all but there is a risk that it is being hijacked by a few. It is time to re-assert and reinforce the rules, principles and norms of responsible state behaviour in outer space enshrined in the 1967 Outer Space Treaty and its associated international agreements.

And, because the treaty specifically prohibits stationing nuclear weapons and other weapons of mass destruction in orbit or on celestial bodies, it is necessary to build on it to ban other types of weapons in space.

Space has been militarized since 1957 with the launch of Soviet satellite Sputnik. But the increasing weaponization of space adds more uncertainty, and unveils more vulnerabilities, that states need to address before space warfare becomes a reality.

Gon Coulibaly, an economic technocrat and Ouattara loyalist since the 1990s, was earmarked in March as the candidate for the ruling Rassemblement des Houphouëtistes pour la Démocratie et la Paix (RHDP) party in the elections due in October, and represented a handpicked heir, trusted to sustain the strategy established during Ouattara’s nine years in power.

Many RDHP parliamentarians and local mayors are now pressing the 78-year-old Ouattara to run again. This was not what he had planned. He hoped to go out on a high – ‘par la grande porte’ – and set a statesmanlike example of retirement by choice, making way for the next generation. His leadership of reform of the regional currency that will see the end of the West African CFA franc would have been the crowning achievement of a presidency that had taken his country from post-war stagnation to sustained growth GDP growth rates around seven per cent before COVID-19 forced a slowdown, as it has worldwide.

A profound strategic dilemma

Gon Coulibaly had undergone a heart transplant in 2012, and when he hurried to Paris in early May and was fitted with a stent, some wondered whether he would have the energy required for an election campaign. Yet he returned home on 2 July, with his formal nomination by the RHDP pencilled in for early the next month. His sudden death on 8 July, at the age of just 61, was a terrible personal blow for Ouattara, who had regarded him almost as a son, and much more than a purely political protégé. But it also left the president facing a profound strategic dilemma.

Names of alternative potential RHDP candidates have been floated – notably the defence minister, and now interim premier, Hamed Bakayoko and the secretary general of the presidency Patrick Achi. Both have solid electoral track records and ample experience of government. But over recent days the impression has grown that they do not command the ultimate confidence of Alassane Ouattara to take on the leadership of the nation.

Speculation has grown that the president will conclude that he has no choice but to go back on his promise to retire and stand for yet another term. Although some respected legal experts disagree, he has always made a point of insisting that the constitutional reform of 2016 allows him to run again. And many influential voices within the RHDP are now pressing him to do so.

This is not ‘rentacrowd’ fawning. Many members of the governing party have always felt that Ouattara offers the strongest blend of political appeal, governing capability and international profile required to lead a country that likes to see itself as West Africa’s ‘elephant’.

A weak opposition, but third term challenges

In electoral terms, Ouattara’s greatest campaign asset might be the unconvincing state of the opposition figures who are actually free to stand, after the Ivorian authorities’ strong-armed the judicial system into blocking the hopes of the of the smooth-talking former parliamentary speaker Guillame Soro, who had great appeal for Cote D’Ivoire’s growing young population. Soro is now exiled in France after conviction in absentia for corruption. Ex-president Laurent Gbagbo remains in Brussels, while the International Criminal Court considers the prosecution appeal against his acquittal on charges of human rights crimes. He is now allowed to travel and has applied for a passport to come home, but it is unclear if this will be granted. That leaves another former head of state, the 86-year old Henri Konan Bédié, as the main opposition challenger.

However, even if the RHDP party machine delivers victory for Ouattara, a third term risks hard questions from those who dispute its legitimacy and it may generate other significant political challenges too. Some 60 per cent of Ivorians are under the age of 25, and many young people are impatient for leaders more in tune with their concerns and outlook. Some 51 per cent now live in towns and cities.

The sprawling Abidjan conurbation, in particular, weighs heavily in the political culture and national mood. Street protest and urban frustrations are a real factor, and something that fuels vocal grassroots support for both the Soro and Gbagbo camps.

Moreover, despite the government’s capable management, the COVID-19 crisis has struck a severe economic and social blow that is sure to impose painful legacy pressures. Even when real GDP was rising by seven per cent per annum, increasingly evident inequality was brewing popular resentment. Corruption appeared to be on the rise, and the obvious prosperity, construction and consumption in parts of Abidjan were not reflected nationwide nor in all sections of society.

In the latter years of his second term, Ouattara recognized this and launched an ambitious programme to broaden the reach of development and nudge growth towards a more ‘inclusive’ model. But selling this as the core of an election agenda would be harder for a political veteran who has been in power since 2011 and who now went back on his rhetoric about making way for a younger generation.

A third term Ouattara would also face challenges internationally, and particularly in West Africa. He has always presented himself as a statesmanlike figure with restraint and respect for institutional values, setting a tone that has helped in the management of numerous regional crises – exemplified by his participation in a five-president mission to Bamako last week, an effort to broker a solution to Mali’s political and protest deadlock. If a third term run sparks mass domestic protest or accusations of constitutional manipulation, the diplomatic standing and influence so associated with Ouattara will be jeopardized.

So Côte d’Ivoire’s president faces profoundly awkward questions as he ponders the third term bid that he had forsworn less than five months ago. And yet he may well conclude that, from his political perspective, there is no viable alternative.

In the aftermath of the devastating Beirut port explosion last week, it is not just the role of the Lebanese political class that has come under scrutiny, but that of their international peers too.

Sunday’s international donor conference led by the French president, Emmanuel Macron, raised €253m (£228m) in relief funds, but it also signalled an important change in rhetoric. For the first time, donors affirmed that relief funds would directly go to the Lebanese people, and that longer-term economic assistance would be dependent on Lebanon implementing structural reforms.

This affirmation came hot on the heels of growing international attention on rampant corruption among Lebanon’s ruling political class, which is widely blamed for the port explosion. It sends the message to Lebanon’s rulers that, while their country desperately needs foreign assistance to stand on its feet, no one can help Lebanon if it does not also help itself.

But the communique issued following the conference glossed over the international community’s own role in sustaining Lebanon’s corrupt political class over a period of decades. At the aid conference, Macron said that Lebanon’s future is at stake. What donors need to recognise is that this future is a shared responsibility for them and Lebanon’s leaders alike.

With Lebanon’s debt greater than 170% of its GDP, and with the port explosion costing an estimated $15bn of damage, Lebanon needs foreign assistance to prevent it becoming a failed state. But what it needs even more desperately are reforms that would counter the corruption and lack of accountability that led it to this sorry state of affairs in the first place.

It is Lebanon’s existing political system – a power-sharing pact between different sects rather than a system of governance on the basis of competence – that facilitates its leaders’ reckless behaviour.

The international community is partly responsible for sustaining this system through cascading patronage. For decades, Lebanese leaders grew accustomed to neglecting the national interest and eventually being bailed out by international assistance. Dollar deposits would land in the central bank from Gulf donors, loans would be offered by European countries and foreign aid packages would flow to Lebanese state institutions – only for the majority of this money to end up lining the pockets of the country’s rulers, who frequently overcame their political differences to share state resources between them. The Lebanese state came to exist as a shell in the eyes of its citizens.

Lebanon’s rulers benefited from citizens’ low expectations from the state and the lack of measures ensuring transparency and accountability in the country. They brokered a social contract that cast the leaders as patrons and the people as clients rather than citizens. Foreign powers were well aware of this dynamic but they often turned a blind eye to it, and even nurtured it, because they believed the Lebanese political system brought stability and predictability following the tumultuous civil war.

With time the leaders’ greed grew, and with that the economic situation worsened. Leaders who behaved as de facto local authorities, granting constituents civil service jobs or minor privileges, provided them less and less. There was some international recognition that this dynamic was becoming unsustainable – international donors pledged $11bn during the CEDRE conference of 2018 on condition that Lebanon implemented structural reforms.

And in the wake of Lebanon’s recent economic deterioration, the International Monetary Fund said in April that any discussion of a loan to Lebanon would be subject to more reforms. On both occasions, Lebanon’s rulers ignored the calls for reform, counting on foreign support eventually coming in unconditionally as it used to in the past. International donor follow-up was sluggish.

The port explosion needs to be a wake-up call for any international entity seeking a stable Lebanon. The blast is ultimately the result of the decades during which political classes in Lebanon and outside it fostered the country’s dysfunctional political system. No long-term assistance should flow into Lebanon without strong conditions on transparency and accountability in how this assistance would be employed.

Foreign support is not the problem per se, but rather when it is handed on a plate unconditionally, maintaining the patronage cascade, exacerbating the weakness of state institutions, and further impoverishing Lebanese citizens.

With Lebanon’s economy almost crumbling in the aftermath of the explosion, there is an opportunity for the international community to exert leverage over Lebanese leaders – whose personal wealth grew partially from legal and illegal transactions through the devastated port – so that necessary reforms are implemented. Such leverage would not remove Lebanon’s defective political system, but would pressure its leaders to accept at least some basic reforms.

But for Lebanon to really turn a new page, it needs a new social contract and a new political system based on fairness, transparency and accountability. This is a change that can only start from within Lebanon, but it also depends on the international community abandoning their tacit support of a disastrous political status quo.

This article was originally published in The Guardian.

Ongoing talks between Egypt, Ethiopia and Sudan attempting to find a diplomatic and peaceful solution to the dispute over the Blue Nile Basin offer a unique opportunity for trans-boundary cooperation and have huge significance for a region dealing with multiple complex issues.

With trust clearly at a premium, the continuation of talks demonstrates good faith, but there is an urgent need to strengthen negotiations through all available diplomatic channels. The African Union (AU) is well-placed to continue mediating, but sustained high-level engagement is also needed from regional and international partners such as the EU and US, as well as multilateral support in terms of both financial and technical resources.

A tense history to overcome

At the heart of this dispute is the new Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam (GERD) – set to become Africa's biggest hydroelectric dam when complete. Egypt and Sudan, who lie downstream, fear that Ethiopia, as the dam builders, will effectively gain control of the flow of the Nile, a turn of events that radically changes the way that water resources have been shared in the region.

Egypt - widely described as a ‘gift of the Nile’ - is almost entirely dependent on the Nile to meet its various water needs, and is the major beneficiary of the 1929 and 1959 agreements on using the shared river’s water. The 1959 agreement gives Egypt a share of 55.5 billion cubic meters (BCM) annually out of 74 billion available, and a veto right over projects being developed upstream, while Sudan is allocated 18.5 BCM.

Crucially neither of these old agreements recognises the interests of other upstream countries on the Nile, some of which have asserted their own development ambitions on the river over the last two decades and pushed for a new agreement to enshrine equitable rights and harmonious use of the water.

One such country is Ethiopia where the Blue Nile River originates. The GERD is a central part of Ethiopia’s ambitions for economic prosperity. The dam, which is largely self-financed, will have a capacity of 74 BCM when completed, enough to provide abundant cheap energy to power both national and regional developments. Currently, more than half Ethiopia’s 110 million people do not have access to electricity, but demand is increasing by 30 per cent annually.

Unclear impacts

The unclear impact of the GERD – and lower volumes of water – on food security and agriculture complicate the negotiations. Egypt, Ethiopia and Sudan’s populations are set to increase significantly in the coming decades and each are already dealing with significant challenges around food insecurity and nutrition, which in Egypt and Sudan, are partly exacerbated by the colonial-era agricultural structures set up to exploit cash crops.

Any change in water quality would have a huge impact on the 67% of Egyptian farm holdings considered as ‘small’ – the majority of which are on the banks of the Nile. And changes in water volumes might increase desertification and loss of livelihoods, potentially causing civil unrest if not addressed properly.

The environmental impact of the GERD on the complex Nile River system also raises concerns about the river’s ecosystem, the surrounding environment, and the river’s downstream course. Despite talks in 2015 leading to an agreement on declaration of principles, thorough technical studies have not been implemented.

Although there is little evidence that overall water levels in the Nile Basin have reduced in recent years, climate change is causing more variation in the Nile’s flow which increases the risk of flooding and extended droughts. Downstream states are also concerned about impacts from any breaches, damage or failure of the dam, including possible seismic activity.

Of course, the GERD also offers some added value to the downstream states. The dam can help manage floods in Sudan, reduce the significant water loss to evaporation - as in the case of Lake Nasser - and lessen the effect of sediment on downstream dams. In Sudan, where less than one-quarter of the estimated 70 million hectares of arable land is currently cultivated, any reduction in seasonal flooding would boost agricultural output and aid economic recovery. The dam will offer Ethiopia significant opportunities for the trade of cheap renewable energy to Sudan and neighbouring states earning it a possible $1bn a year in revenues. And adopting a more ‘basin-integrated’ management approach can be a springboard for enhanced regional cooperation between the three states.

But geopolitical tensions between the three have escalated since satellite imagery revealed apparent significant filling of the dam prior to reaching any agreement. Ethiopia has long said it would begin filling the dam during its rainy season, but insists the filling occurred naturally through June-July from rainfall and runoff and its first-year target of 4.9 BCM was reached without needing to close the dam gates. Egypt and Sudan have restated their calls for a binding legal agreement on the rules for filling and management of disputes.

Security response not the answer

Internal pressures are particularly acute, with all three countries experiencing public uprisings and regime change in the last decade, and current leaders are under pressure not to appear weak from influential sections of society pushing a hard nationalist line.

Hawkish elements in Egypt have long supported a more securitized response to any potential threats from the GERD, and the recent request from President Sisi that Egyptian air forces be ready to handle targets inside and outside of the country was interpreted as a threat to Turkey in Libya, and Ethiopia.

Egypt has also asked for the GERD to be discussed at the UN Security Council but Ethiopia’s Nobel peace prize-winning prime minister Abiy Ahmed, facing significant internal unrest himself, has made it clear that a costly confrontation is not in anyone’s interests. Meanwhile, Sudan’s transitional government - being jointly run by civilians and the military - is keen to assert its own interests on the Nile but has also played a conciliatory role with its neighbours. Increased engagement of Gulf states in the Horn of Africa and the impacts of conflicts in Libya, Yemen and Syria add more complexity to the overall regional picture.

Certainly none of the major parties sharing the river would benefit from a hard security response to the dam. For Egypt, such a move would torpedo its re-engagement in Sub-Saharan Africa under President Sisi and likely lead to its expulsion from the AU. For Ethiopia, overt conflict would be a huge setback for its development and regional integration ambitions. And Sudan’s nascent transition can ill-afford to be part of another regional conflict.

Thankfully, such an outcome is both highly unlikely and historically rare, and behind the scenes there has been significant progress. Some reports suggest a provisional agreement has been reached on the volume of filling required and the timeframe for the filling to happen. If so, most dispute now revolves around what to do in the event of a drought, provisions for information exchange, and how to translate all this into a binding agreement.

A two-phase approach, consisting of a short-term deal on filling and operating the GERD followed by discussions on future developments and allocation, could be the best way to reach a lasting settlement and replace the extremely outdated existing water-sharing agreements.

Reaching a successful deal between the three countries is not easy as it requires brave leadership and political goodwill, a de-escalation of long-standing rhetoric and brinkmanship, and a willingness to compromise on all sides to ensure the gaps between the countries' positions are significantly narrowed.

What is required is a determined effort to keep the countries talking and provide the solutions which can bridge the parties’ differences, build confidence, and secure the vital diplomatic success so badly needed for wider stability and progress in the region.

Despite being such a historic selection, in certain aspects, Kamala Harris does not actually signal change. She is a moderate in the Democratic Party, an insider more than an outsider, and a highly experienced leader with national, state level and city level credentials. She worked as a district attorney in San Francisco for several years before being elected attorney general for the state of California, and then to the US Senate in 2016. Harris also stood as a candidate against Biden in the contest to become the Democratic Party's presidential candidate.

Like Joe Biden, she is a highly experienced leader with strong credentials. But California is solidly blue, so she cannot deliver a new state for him. In many ways she is a safe choice and — at a time when Biden is far ahead of Donald Trump in the polls and America faces a lot of uncertainty — many leading political analysts say safe is exactly what the Democratic candidate needs.

But certainly as a signal to the American people, and the rest of the world, of what America is and what it stands for, the choice of Kamala Harris is truly historic. The senator from California is the first African-American woman, and the first Asian-American woman, on the presidential ticket. If Biden wins in November, Harris becomes the first female vice-president.

The historic aspects do not end there. Harris also represents a rapidly growing segment of the US population, but one that gets far less mention — multi-racial Americans. The exact size of America’s multi-racial population has been notoriously hard to measure, especially as it has only been 15 years since the US Census Bureau allowed Americans to choose more than one race when completing their census form. But America has long seen itself as a melting pot, so Harris’s place on the ballot underscores a national narrative with a deep resonance across the country, not least among America’s schoolchildren.

In recent weeks, it came to feel inevitable Biden would choose an African-American running mate. His selection comes at a time when more Americans than ever before have taken to the streets to protest the brutal killing of George Floyd and racial injustice. And the demand for racial equality has been accelerated by the COVID-19 pandemic which has disproportionately affected African-Americans who are dying from the virus at around double the rate of their white American counterparts, while twice the number of black businesses are closing relative to their white counterparts.

The choice of Harris also speaks to another fundamental aspect of the ‘American dream’. She is the daughter of two immigrant parents, her father being from Jamaica and her mother from India. Immigration has become one of the toughest issues in US politics, and immigrants have suffered repeated rhetorical attacks from Trump. One of Harris’s first stands in the US Senate was against President Trump’s entry ban to the US on several countries with majority Muslim populations.

When it comes to questions of identity, the choices that the US electorate now face in November could not be more stark. President Trump used the opportunity of the July 4 weekend to deliver a speech at Mount Rushmore which appeared to actively seek division and to ignite America’s cultural wars.

By choosing Kamala Harris, Biden also continues to signal that he will lead from the moderate wing of the Democratic Party.

Harris may be left of Biden, but she is far to the right of other well-known progressive candidates, especially Elizabeth Warren. She has not, for example, supported more far-reaching measures to redistribute wealth, especially the proposal for a wealth tax. And she has a track record of being tough on crime during her years as a prosecutor. Although she played an active role in recent protests and signalled her commitment to police reform and anti-lynching laws, not all young or progressive protesters will be easily persuaded by her credentials.

However, for voters who hoped for a more progressive candidate, two factors play to the advantage of the Biden-Harris ticket. This election still looks set to be a referendum on President Trump and — especially now — his ability to manage the public health and economic crises at home. And Biden has continued to include the progressive side of the Democratic Party in his plans, giving Bernie Sanders and Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez key roles in developing climate proposals, and establishing a series of Unity task forces to bring the party together.

There are also other more conventional factors at play. Biden has relied on the support of African-American and also female voters. While Harris may not broaden this support, it should help ensure these voters turn out — if primarily via their postal box — to vote for Biden. His choice of Kamala Harris answers the one big outstanding question facing his candidacy and signals the true beginning of the race to the White House.

Amid outrage and revulsion at Belarus’s fraudulent election and the subsequent savage repression of protests, Western responses must be planned with half an eye on Russia. Not just for what is often described as the risk of ‘driving Belarus into Russia’s arms’ but also for the danger of unilateral Russian action, with or without Belarusian acquiescence.

In the past six years, there have been endless discussions of what might prompt another Russian military intervention in Europe after Ukraine. In many of these scenarios, it is precisely the situation currently unfolding in Belarus that has been top of the list, with all the wide-ranging implications for security of the continent as a whole that would follow.

Just as with Ukraine, Russia is considered likely to intervene if it seemed to Moscow there was a danger of ‘losing’ Belarus to the West. If the situation in Belarus becomes more unstable and unpredictable, assertive Russian action could aim to assert control by different possible means - either propping up Lukashenka as a paper-thin proxy for Russian power, or installing a different, more compliant leadership as a pretence at legitimacy.

New facts on the ground

Leadership and support for a Western response to events in Belarus might previously have been expected from the United States which, like the UK, had been actively pushing forward relations with Belarus. But besides its preoccupation with internal affairs, US criticism of the election and ‘detentions of peaceful protesters and journalists’ looks tenuous in the light of the current administration’s behaviour over its own recent domestic issues.

Nevertheless, for NATO and for the United States as its primary guarantor, what happens in Belarus remains critically important precisely because of the possible response by Russia. Unpredictability increases the risk of Russia declaring it has received a ‘request for assistance from the legitimate government of Belarus’ and moving military forces into the country.

Once the immediate challenge of suppressing dissent had been dealt with, the presence of Russian forces in Belarus – along with the air and missile forces they could be expected to bring with them - would substantially alter the security situation for a wide area of central Europe. Popular scenarios for Russian military adventures such as a move on the Suwałki gap - the strip of Polish-Lithuanian border separating the exclave of Kaliningrad from the rest of Russia - would no longer be several geopolitical steps away.

Ukraine would be forced to rapidly re-orient its defence posture to face a new threat from the north, while Belarus’s other neighbours would need to adjust to having effectively a direct border with Russia. In particular, NATO’s enhanced forward presence (eFP) contingents in Poland and Lithuania would become the focus of intense political attention, facing calls both for their rapid expansion, and their complete removal as destabilizing factors.

Examining Russia's options

NATO and the US’s European Command must now be watching Russia just as intently as Russia is watching Belarus. For now, Russia may be reassured by what it has seen. While the protests in Belarus are far more widespread than those in Ukraine which led to its former president Viktor Yanukovych fleeing the country, Aliaksandr Lukashenka is showing no signs of similarly losing his nerve.

The viciousness of the repression combined with more or less effective suppression of communications over the internet may mean unrest will soon be subdued. Even if there were a transfer of power, the current Belarusian opposition has not declared a policy of greater integration with the West - and Russia might feel it could constrain the options available to any replacement as effectively as it has done Lukashenka’s.

Perversely, continued international apathy could even work to Belarus’s benefit by providing reassurance to Russia. If a palpable lack of interest helps the Kremlin believe the discontent in Belarus is purely organic and spontaneous, and is not other countries ‘mobilizing the protest potential of the population’ in order to bring about a ‘colour revolution’, this would be a strong argument against a need to act in order to head off Western encroachment.

But the options facing ordinary Belarusians do remain bleak. Passivity means acceptance of continuing stagnation under Lukashenka, with his rule extended indefinitely. Active opposition means a very real risk of arrest with the possibility of serious injury. Unsuccessful protest means the cause may once again soon be forgotten by the outside world. Successful protest carries the ever-present risk of Russia stepping in with an offer of ‘fraternal assistance’ and Belarus becoming effectively a province of Russia rather than an independent country with – in the long term - the opportunity to choose its own future.

For decades, the mantra of ‘economic diversification’ characterized attempts to reverse Nigeria’s dependence on oil with little real progress. Despite numerous reforms, international loans and restructuring programmes, 85 million Nigerians live in deteriorating conditions of poverty. The current coronavirus pandemic combined with mounting debt obligations and declining GDP gives new urgency to this issue.

The fall in international oil prices, which led government to slash its oil benchmark price from $57 to $30 a barrel and cut 20% of the capital budget, worsens these problems, but it is far from the only factor. Biomass, which drives household pollution and contributed to the death of 114,000 people in Nigeria in 2017, is the most dominant source of energy in Nigeria, amounting to more than 80% of the total energy mix, followed by fossil fuels (18%), and a negligible amount of renewable energy.

Although a diversified energy sector with a strong emphasis on renewables is known to reduce health and economic risks of combustion, there has been little emphasis on the role a diversified energy mix could play in ensuring sustainable development – even though the estimated potential of 427,000MW of solar power and photovoltaic generation means Nigeria has enormous renewable energy opportunities.

The global economy is also undergoing tectonic structural changes that will affect demand for Nigeria’s oil, leaving a fossil fuel-dependent economy more vulnerable. Improvements in global fuel efficiency, the ascent of electricity as a substitute for oil in the transport sector, and the falling prices of renewables and storage technologies all lead to a reduction in demand for fossil fuel products.

Creating structures for transition

This is not a ‘get out of oil’ prescription, and energy transition is complex. But it is inevitable. There are no universal strategies applicable to all countries; local contexts and political realities inform what is possible. Nigeria can take advantage of its abundant natural gas deposit as a ‘transition fuel’ to buy it time for putting the appropriate transition structures in place. The country has made progress in reducing the amount of gas flared, but much remains to be done for Nigeria to meet the 2030 global deadline to end flaring, after failing to meet its 2020 national target.

The first step to proper transition is to align Nigeria’s international obligations with its domestic policies and legislations - the distance between words and action must be bridged and the institutional capacity to implement raised. And, while they contain symbolic green gestures, the economic recovery and growth plan developed in response to the 2016 recession, and the post-COVID-19 economic sustainability plan, do not espouse green growth as a fundamental objective.

Nigeria must start looking inwards, investing its resources in designing and funding a green transition strategy. Its leadership role in floating Africa’s first Sovereign Green Bonds should be followed with non-debt funding options. Faced with a pandemic that has shattered the boundaries of what is politically possible, the Buhari government has overcome initial inertia to announce a halt in oil subsidy payments, although whether it will see through that policy is yet to be seen.

If it does, how it uses the savings will be significant. The money could provide support for Nigeria’s renewable sector to counteract the price disparity with fossil fuels and encourage rapid research and development. The Nigerian Ecological Fund — which is 3% of the Federation Account — should be reformed and expanded beyond its current scope of addressing ‘serious ecological problems’ to cover climate change with a strong emphasis on mitigation and resilience. That would increase Nigeria’s climate finance and minimize reliance on multilateral climate funds.

Beyond public investments in green infrastructure, the government can also incentivize the private sector to drive a green economy. As the largest purchaser of goods and services in the country, it can leverage purchasing power to green the procurement process. With the release of about $421 million to the Ministry of Works, the 2020 budgetary allocation for road projects has been fully disbursed to the Ministry, making procurement in the construction sector ripe for green reforms. The application of sustainable building techniques and materials could reduce Nigeria’s 17 million housing deficit and create more jobs.

But the task of greening the Nigerian economy is too important to be left to the federal government alone. It also requires mainstreaming climate change and sustainable development into the operations, governance, and budgets of government ministries, departments, and private entities at the sub-national and national levels.

There has been much focus on reviving agriculture, which is laudable, but agrarian practices have radically changed from the 1970s when the sector accounted for 57% of Nigeria’s GDP and generated 64.5% of export earnings. Beset by a loss of biodiversity, drought, and desertification, extreme weather events, rise in sea levels and variable rainfall, it is no longer smart for Nigeria to invest in this area without due regard for the significant climate risks. Any effort to revive agriculture and its export potential must be green-centred and integrate regenerative and climate-smart practices.

The right policy mix combined with aggressive funding can position the country as a renewable energy leader, both on the African continent and globally. And it will reap the benefits in technology development, foreign investment, decreased emissions, poverty reduction, and energy for the 80 million people currently without access to the national grid – all of which could ripple into millions of clean energy jobs in manufacturing and installation across the country.

The road to a green future must be paved with deliberate and consistent policies. Reforms hatched because oil prices have plunged should not be ditched when there is a boom. On the brink of a second recession in four years, Nigeria has learnt that the economic turmoil caused by COVID-19 is only the latest warning that pinning economic growth on a boom-bust market and the generosity of foreign donors and creditors is a failing strategy. There is another way and there is an opportunity for Nigeria to lead.

The virus of violence

According to the UN (para. 7) and the International Criminal Court (ICC, para. 279), conflict-related sexual violence (CRSV) is quite prevalent in hostilities-affected eastern Ukraine. Both sexes are subjected to sexualized torture, rape, forced nudity, prolonged detention in unsanitary conditions with members of the other sex and threats of sexual violence towards detainees or their relatives to force confessions. Men are castrated. Women additionally suffer from sexual slavery, enforced and survival prostitution, and other forms of sexual abuse. Women are more exposed to CRSV: in the hostilities-affected area, every third woman has experienced or witnessed CRSV as opposed to every fourth man.

COVID-19 has redirected funding priorities, affecting the availability of medical and psychological help for CRSV survivors worldwide. In Ukraine, the very reporting of such violence, stigmatized even before the pandemic, has been further undermined by the country-wide quarantine-induced restrictions on movement and the closure of checkpoints between the government-controlled and temporarily uncontrolled areas.

Addressing CRSV in Ukraine

The stigma of CRSV, the patchy domestic legislation, and the unpreparedness of the criminal justice system to deal with such cases prevent the authorities from properly helping those harmed in the ongoing Russia-Ukraine armed conflict.

CRSV is equally traumatizing yet different in nuance for men and women. Female victims often choose not to report the violence. Women avoid protracted proceedings likely to cause re-traumatization and the disclosure of their experience, which could be particularly excruciating in small communities where everybody knows everyone.

Men also struggle to provide their accounts of CRSV. Their suppressed pain and shame of genital mutilation and other CRSV result in sexual and other health disfunctions. Combined with the post-conflict mental health struggles, this has been shown to lead to increased domestic violence and even suicide.

The very investigation of CRSV in Ukraine is challenging. Certain tests and examinations need to be done straight after an assault, which in the context of detention and grey zones of hostilities is often impossible. Specialized medical and psychological support is lacking. Investigators and prosecutors are hardly trained to deal with CRSV to the point that they do not ask questions about it during the interviews. Burdened by trauma and stigma, survivors are inclined to report torture or inhuman treatment, but not the sexualized aspects thereof.

Seven years into the conflict, the state still has not criminalized the full spectrum of CRSV in its domestic law. Ukraine’s Criminal Code contains a brief list of the violations of the rules and customs of warfare in article 438. It prohibits the inhuman treatment of civilians and POWs but does not list any types of CRSV.

The article has an open-ended reference to Ukraine’s ratified international treaties, from which the responsibility for other armed conflict violations may be derived. For the more detailed norms on CRSV, Ukraine should refer at least to Geneva Convention IV protecting civilians and two additional protocols to the Geneva Conventions, to which it is a party.

However, the novelty of the war context for Ukrainian investigators, prosecutors and judges and their overcautiousness about the direct application of international conventions mean that in practice, observing the treaty or jurisprudential instruction on CRSV has been slow.

Use of the Criminal Code’s articles on sexual violence not related to an armed conflict is not viable. Such provisions fail to reflect the horrible variety and complexity of CRSV committed in hostilities. They also envisage lesser punishment than a war crime of sexual violence would entail. Cumulatively, this fails to account for the intention of a perpetrator, the gravity of the crime and the trauma of its victims.

The lack of public debate and state action on CRSV understates its magnitude. Ukraine should break its silence about CRSV in Donbas and make addressing this violence part of its actionable agenda - in law and in implementation.

Ukraine should incorporate all war crimes and crimes against humanity of CRSV in its domestic legislation; ensure a more gendered psychological and medical support for both sexes; establish rehabilitation and compensation programmes for CRSV survivors; create special victims and witness protection schemes; consider the different stigmatizing effects of CRSV on men and women in criminal proceedings and engage the professionals of the same sex as the victim; map CRSV in the bigger picture of other crimes in Donbas to better understand the motives of the perpetrators; submit more information about CRSV to the ICC and educate the public to destigmatize the CRSV survivors.

The drafters of Ukraine’s transitional justice roadmap should ensure that it highlights CRSV, adopts a gendered approach to it and endorses female participation as a crucial component of reconciliation and broader policymaking.

Embracive policymaking

Although ‘the discriminatory line almost inevitably hurts women,’ 'every gender discrimination is a two-edged sword’, Ruth Bader Ginsburg famously argued before the US Supreme Court. This could not be more relevant for Ukraine. The conflict - and lockdown-related violence has reverberated deeper within Ukrainian society, raising fundamental questions about the roles of both sexes and gender equality.

The failure to address CRSV and its different stigmas for both sexes mirrors the general lack of sustainable gender lenses in Ukraine's policymaking. It is no coincidence that a June 2020 proposal for gender parity in political parties coincided with another spike of sexist remarks by top officials. While women get access to more positions in the army, sexual harassment in the military is investigated slowly. Despite all the impressive female professionals, no woman made it to the first four-member consultative civic group in the Minsk process. Such lack of diversity sends an unfortunate message that women are not important for Ukraine’s peace process.

Ginsburg said, ‘women belong in all places where decisions are being made.’ CRSV against either sex won’t be addressed properly until both sexes contribute with their talents and their grievances to all pillars of Ukraine’s state governance and strategy. Ukraine should look to engage professional women - and there are plenty - to join its public service not just in numbers, but as the indispensable equal voices of a powerful choir.

Healthy forests have always been a vital resource for the communities living in, and around, them. Offering food, clothing, fuel and medicine, forests also stabilize the water table and guard against soil erosion. Timber from forests also serves local, national and international markets, generates jobs and is an important revenue stream for many governments around the world.

Forests have also increasingly been tasked with combatting the double threats of climate change and biodiversity loss. Furthermore, the COVID-19 pandemic has put a spotlight on the role of forests in preventing diseases which has further added to the need to preserve the world’s forest area.

However, at the same time, pressure on forest lands is increasing, particularly for agriculture and also for mining, infrastructure and urbanization. But, with myriad demands placed on forests, and impacts that transcend political boundaries, achieving a balance requires a reckoning of local and global priorities.

International forest initiatives until now have, quite rationally, prioritized a globalized conceptualization of forests – privileging their place in global supply chains and global crises. International regulations around timber, for instance, are primarily aimed at securing a long-term source of timber by reducing illegality in the system while national plans under the Paris Agreement focus on forests primarily as a global carbon sink.

Within these initiatives, local impacts are often dealt with as flanking measures. Community benefit-sharing agreements, compensation schemes and incentive programmes are aimed at mitigating impacts and modifying behaviour at the local level so that these align with international goals.

Meanwhile, and despite intense international attention, it has been found that globally natural forest cover declined in the six years since the New York Declaration of Forests set a goal to halve deforestation. Greenhouse gas emissions have continued to rise and, although there have been successes, illegal timber continues to be traded internationally.

To halt these trends, it is important to reflect on the demands being placed on forests and to achieve a better balance between them. But this will require radical change. That’s why, in July, Chatham House convened an online Global Forum on Forest Governance at which these issues were explored.

One issue that was discussed is why it remains vital to listen to, and learn from, a wide range of voices. Single perspectives fail to acknowledge or respond to the full range of pressures exerted on forests therefore it is important to have a range of perspectives including those from the global north and south, economists and agronomists, social scientists and climate scientists.

But beyond the research community, all those who have a stake in forests must be included in the discussion too: women and men, young and old people, those living in urban and rural areas as well as people from the government and private sectors.

This lesson has often been repeated but rarely enacted perhaps because it is not easy to do and takes time. Nevertheless, broadening participation can help deliver the deep-rooted changes that are needed to the way forests are governed and managed.

Considerable evidence exists to show that improvements to governance can facilitate a more equitable approach to forests that better balances the needs and priorities of these different groups. Legal and institutional reforms, for example, that are sensitive to the needs of local populations have precipitated change. Successes in improving transparency have also been a key factor in holding both the private sector and governments to account.

Thus, creating radical change may not mean brand new ideas. Lessons can be learnt from the successes and failures of the past. It will be important that, as new and increasing demands are placed on already overburdened forests, these lessons are not forgotten and previous mistakes are not repeated.

What will matter over the next few years will be which ideas are acted upon and who gets to decide. As more than 100 countries announce plans to increase the ambition of their nationally determined contributions on emission reductions, and as the EU and the US move forward with plans to legislate deforestation out of commodity supply chains, a clear message that has emerged is that local actors need to be in the driving seat. This needs to go beyond listening and consultation to meaningful engagement that gives due weight to local priorities, perspectives and experience.

Having failed to swiftly translate popular support into tangible political achievements, there are signs the protests against the fraudulent presidential election in Belarus may be losing momentum in the face of the state’s resilience and still-confident security and enforcement apparatus.

Attempts to blame the unrest on the West have focused on groups Lukashenka and Russia can both call enemies. And now Aliaksandr Lukashenka is not only inventing anti-Russian policies supposedly held by the opposition, such as suppressing the Russian language and closing the border with Russia, but also a supposed military threat from NATO.

Border movements

Increased military activity inside Belarus does give Lukashenka a wider range of options. Unscheduled activation of military units includes airspace defence practice with missiles and aircraft, electronic warfare (EW) units put on round-the-clock alert, and a number of infantry brigades preparing for live firing exercises.

Lukashenka is drawing attention to the north-west corner of Belarus, singling out the city of Grodno near the border with Poland and Lithuania as a supposed target for Western efforts at destabilization. Grodno is also the destination for an airborne brigade moving from the east to the west of the country and the focus of military exercises under way on the country’s western borders.

All this feeds Lukashenka’s narrative that Belarus is in danger from NATO and the West who are supposedly both stirring up the protests and seeking to exploit disorder - and that this danger extends to possible military clashes.

The Belarusian exercises are over the border from where NATO troops - including elements of the Light Dragoons, a British reconnaissance unit - have been in place in Poland as part of NATO's enhanced forward presence (eFP) since 2017. Pointing to NATO activity in Poland and Lithuania, Lukashenka said on Wednesday ‘we have to follow their movements and plans’ and that ‘they will answer for it if something happens’.

The danger is that having invented a tense situation in Grodno, Lukashenka may now need to be proved right. There may be staged incidents or ‘provocations’ against Belarus military forces, either supposedly instigated by protesters or even by NATO forces on the border - all aimed at bolstering the narrative that NATO, the EU, and the West in general are hostile to Belarus and that more drastic measures are necessary for protection.

Russia’s options still open

Although initial fears of a Russian move into Belarus have receded, Lukashenka’s complaints about NATO also bolster the case for Moscow to intervene. The military exercises fit the narrative that Belarus is under threat from the West - which is exactly the pretext Russia would need.

If this is believed in Moscow, where foreign minister Sergey Lavrov has already described events in Belarus as part of a ‘struggle for the post-Soviet space’, this makes a Russian intervention more likely. Moving forces away from their base near the border with Russia to the other end of the country near Poland and Lithuania also means any Russian entry into Belarus could go more smoothly, with fewer wild cards of possible Belarusian opposition to consider.

There are plenty of sensible, rational, logical reasons why a Russian military intervention in Belarus would be disastrous and counter-productive. But what seems sensible and rational in Europe and North America does not always carry weight in Moscow, which may see the situation completely differently and measure options by completely different standards.

One key area of doubt is the sympathies of the Belarus armed forces. Although some elements of the Belarusian army - particularly airborne and special forces - work closely with their Russian counterparts, more general suggestions that the Belarusian military is merely an extension of Russia’s and is not capable of taking decisions for itself are an over-simplification.

The Belarus armed forces do know that hosting Russian ground troops, airbases or air defence systems would fatally undermine the country’s hopes of avoiding being caught up in any confrontation between Russia and NATO.

And although the great majority of Belarusian officers are Russian-speaking and many have been trained and educated in Russia, there may be sufficient pride in national identity and resentment at heavy-handed treatment by Russia to lead to substantial obstruction of Russian initiatives.

The Belarus General Staff has already refused permission for a Russian aircraft carrying 155 personnel from the Rosgvardiya militarized security force and three tonnes of cargo ‘for the Belarusian interior ministry’ to land in Belarus. This could indicate not only tension between Russia and Belarus, but even between ministries within Belarus itself.

Like Russia, Lukashenka has plenty of options in reserve if his situation deteriorates further. Announcing a state of emergency would allow the Belarusian army to support the security forces in dealing with protests. If the army is on the move with their equipment they are better prepared to be brought into action if needed, but testing the loyalty of the armed forces could prove dangerous if the sympathies of army units turn out to lie more with civilians than with their oppressors from the interior ministry.

The military preparations against fictitious threats and a patiently-waiting Russia is a toxic mix and Belarus’s friends abroad must tread carefully. A key task for the European Union (EU) is to help the Belarusian people without providing a pretext for further violence and Russian intervention.

The right level of engagement needs to be carefully calibrated, avoiding disasters of strategic communication such as European Commissioner Thierry Breton being translated into English as saying Belarus is not part of Europe – with the lack of EU interest that that implies. Although the EU statement promising sanctions and offering funds received a mixed reception, at least it cannot be used by Lukashenka and Vladimir Putin as evidence that their warnings of a Western military threat are genuine.

It’s easy to take a look at the array of economic and diplomatic punitive policies that the sanctions-happy Trump administration has slapped on individuals and countries from Argentina to Iran and conclude that they have failed to achieve their objectives. With US oil sanctions on Venezuela, trade sanctions on select Argentine, Brazilian and Canadian exports and the tightening of the US embargo on Cuba, sanctions have become a go-to tool of the current administration.

Have they worked so far? Some have. Some haven’t. All of this leads to a legitimate question: when do they? The most extreme example, the US embargo on Cuba – first imposed by executive order under the Trading with the Enemy Act in 1961 and then codified into law by the Cuba Democracy Act (1992) and Libertad Act (1996) passed by Congress – has failed miserably, but remains an article of faith among its advocates, the bulk of them in southern Florida. The 1992 Democracy Act and 1996 Libertad Act have failed to produce either democracy or liberty in Cuba… yet their potential efficacy persists in the collective imaginations of their supporters. Why?

Conditions on Cuba

Any policy needs to have an explicit goal and with it an implicit or explicit theory of change. Whether it’s advertising that smoking kills on cigarette packages or trade negotiations, these efforts have behind them an explicit idea of the change they seek to foster and the causal relationships to achieve them. These are testable and, in theory, subject to course correction if they are not meeting their intended goals. Has advertising reduced the incidence of smoking?  Are workers better paid and receiving better health benefits and labour protections under the trade agreement several years on?

None of those has applied on the US’s embargo on Cuba. First, the policy goals have changed. In some cases, it has been stated that the limitations on US commerce and travel to the island is to reduce the regime’s international support for autocratic regimes. But Cuba’s to-the-death support of the Nicolas Maduro government in Venezuela has demonstrated this isn’t working. 

Arguably it has had the opposite effect: by impoverishing the state-centered Cuban economy, the embargo has made the regime more dependent on the decreasing oil that Venezuela supplies the island nation. In other cases, the stated goal has been regime change as the titles of the 1992 and 1996 act titles reveal.

The latter even lays out a set of conditions that must be present in Cuba before the Congress can lift the trade and diplomatic isolation the US has imposed on the island unilaterally. Those include the release of political prisoners, the absence of any Castro family members from decision-making, and credible steps toward free and fair elections. 24 years after the passage of the Libertad Act, Cuba is no closer to achieving not just one but any of those goals despite the putative incentive of a full and complete lifting of the embargo.   

The question here is the implicit theory of change for the embargo. Here, embargo supporters have never been clear about this link. First, there is the implied hope that sanctions will impose such costs and suffering on the general population that the masses will rise up and shake off autocratic rule of their overlords.

There are several problems with this. One is that general sanctions that reduce access to foodstuffs and finances – as has been the case in the US embargo on Cuba and sanctions on Venezuela – lowers the incentives for protest. It concentrates the government’s political and economic control over the population rather than weakening it. More, people who are hungry living under a repressive government simply aren’t that likely to rise up; they are often more concerned with the day-to-day struggles of getting by.

Second, there is a naïve notion that either those in power or those around them will see the light of day and decide to step down. Promoters of sanctions often have a cold-eyed reality of the nature of evil of autocratic governments. So why do they believe in some hidden decency among its inner circles? In truth, the purveyors of this view deny the basic and laudable basis for their hatred of autocrats: their bottomless cruelty and disregard for their own people. 

Do sanctions work? 

There is also a growing body of research on the efficacy of sanctions. Comparative research has revealed a number of conclusions, none of which appear to have been considered by current policymakers in the White House or State Department.  

The first of these is that sanctions work when they are implemented broadly by a wide coalition of governments. Most of the sanctions that have succeeded in their intentions have been along those lines including the UN sanctions on Iran to push the country to a nuclear deal.  

The second is that the goals of sanctions should be narrow and clearly defined. Successful cases, as Daniel Drezner who wrote a book on the topic has detailed, have been tied to specific goals. Regime change is not one of those. It is too broad and amorphous – though as I say above also unrealistic in its logic between intended effect and the targeted individual. 

A third element of successful sanctions is keeping them flexible and credible. As detailed in a Council on Foreign Relations backgrounder ‘the target must believe that sanctions will be increased or reduced based on its behaviour.’ 

That’s never been the case with Cuba sanctions under the Democracy or Libertad acts. Instead, sanctions relief is presented as a binary choice: democracy or nothing. There are no provisions for intermediate steps that could potentially incentivize changes of behaviour toward loosening state control and reducing human rights abuses.  

The recent tightening of the US embargo that included restrictions on US travel to Cuba and financial transactions under the Trump White House has been disconnected from any specific policy changes in the island. In this case, human rights conditions that the changes were linked to or intended to punish had not taken a dramatic turn for the worse. They were instead intended to simply ratchet up pressure for an embargo which advocates felt was too leaky and hope for a collapse that would weaken the Maduro regime.

That is precisely the problem for many of the most strident advocates of the US-Cuba embargo: the policy has become the objective, divorced from on-the-ground realities and incentives to move them forward.  There is the legitimate concern that the sanctions hurt the very people that the policy claims to defend. They also serve as a rallying point for the Castro regime and a way to cover up for its own economic failures.  But the most damning indictment of the embargo is that in its almost 50-year history it has failed to achieve its objectives.

If the matter is the efficacy of sanctions, then the US embargo on Cuba does not meet the test. It’s not limited to Cuba. None of the cases of regime change that many of the embargo advocates love to cite, communist Eastern Europe, the Soviet Union and South Africa had embargos as tight or isolating as those imposed on Cuba for nearly half a century. There’s a reason for that. It’s basic logic.

A version of this article will also appear in Spanish in the journal Foro Cubano in September.  

Among the many unusual features of the pandemic-induced downturn is the disconnect between depressed real economies and buoyant financial markets. This is particularly evident in the US, where output fell 9.5% in the second quarter while the S&P 500 index rose by one-fifth.

This may suggest a huge financial bubble is in the making, or at least a highly optimistic view of a COVID-19 vaccine and treatments. Another possibility is that markets have a better grasp of the economic dynamics of a post-pandemic world than most nervous consumers and governments.

Certainly, markets have been helped by central bank largesse. In March, major central banks reacted forcefully to the possibility of a serious credit crunch with lending guarantees and bond purchases. Such liquidity interventions soothe troubled markets, but they also raise asset prices — potentially into bubble territory. This partly explains the markets’ strength. But it may not be the whole story.

A closer look at market performance suggests they may be on to something more interesting. Compare the US’s broad-based S&P 500 equity index with the tech-focused Nasdaq 100. Since the start of the year, the Nasdaq has risen 24% while the S&P is up just 5%. In the S&P itself, it has been the dramatic rise of the so-called Faang companies — Facebook, Amazon, Apple, Netflix and Google/Alphabet — that offset lesser performances by the other 495 companies. This sharp difference reflects two forces.

First, the COVID-19 crisis has had vastly different effects on different sectors. Lockdown brought a sudden increase in demand for the technology services that enable home learning (with school closures), homeworking (especially by office workers), home entertainment (instead of cinemas and theatres), home shopping (instead of physical shops), and home deliveries of almost everything else, including food. The Faang companies benefited disproportionally from this surge in demand as their production is scalable. Much of it could also be delivered by employees who themselves worked from home. The rise in their share prices reflects this.

Meanwhile, other sectors suffered massively. In the UK, the overall drop in gross domestic product of 20% in the second quarter was led by a fall of 87% in the accommodation and food services sector, which was severely affected by government restrictions. About one-quarter of the UK workforce, according to official figures, was also furloughed or temporarily off work without pay during lockdown. The fall in the share prices of hotels, restaurant franchises and airlines reflects such factors. 

The second driver of rising markets is that they are forward-looking while economic statistics reflect the past. For example, that UK GDP shrank during the second quarter is less interesting to a financial investor than the fact that during two months (May and June) GDP expanded by 2.4% and 8.7% respectively. In other words, output troughed in April but recovery began in May and accelerated in June as lockdown restrictions were eased. 

It is likely that rapid adaptations by companies and consumers to the pandemic-supercharged trends are already under way. In Britain, the share of retail sales (excluding fuel) made by ecommerce rose from around 7% in 2010 to 20% at the beginning of 2020 — it has since jumped to more than 30%. 

One-third of those officially working from home meanwhile say that they would like to do that permanently, according to the Centre for Economics and Business Research, and many large companies have offered their staff this choice.

Even in labour-intensive sectors such as healthcare and government services there has been a replacement of face-to-face delivery with digital booking and screen-based consultations.

Still, while this may help some companies in certain sectors, it does not imply a smooth recovery for the whole economy. Rather, it augurs a period of disruption as new companies, new business models and new job openings emerge. If the pandemic has ignited a Schumpeterian process of creative destruction, that is likely to continue whether or not effective vaccines and treatments ever come. 

Governments should ease the pain of this disruption with supportive fiscal and monetary policies, but they should not try to slow it down. The hopeful market message is that one lasting consequence of COVID-19 may be the rejuvenation of productivity growth that eventually spreads far beyond tech. 

This article was originally published in the Financial Times.

If sanctions imposed by the UN Security Council, the EU, or states unilaterally, are not sufficiently targeted, and do not include adequate safeguards for humanitarian action, they can adversely affect the very populations for whose well-being they were imposed in the first place.  This is not a new concern, but one brought starkly to the fore by their impact on responses to COVID-19.

The detrimental impact of sanctions, which can prevent the supply of medical or personal protective equipment (PPE), or the provision of technical support or training to local health authorities is evident. Sanctions can also affect remote learning if support cannot be provided to local education authorities, export licences cannot be obtained for the necessary equipment and software, or if the companies providing reliable internet coverage are designated under the sanctions.

A comparison of US and EU sanctions on Syria reveals key challenges, but also opportunities for improving current arrangements for the imposition and implementation of sanctions so as to minimize adverse consequences in Syria and more generally.

The US has imposed broad sanctions, such as restrictions on the provision of funds, goods or services – even charitable contributions – to the Syrian government, including the health and education ministries, now playing a central role in the COVID-19 response.

UN agencies are exempted from these restrictions. A general license authorizes NGOs to conduct activities to meet basic needs, but it excludes those involving the government. So NGOs wishing to provide medical devices, PPE, training or other support to ministry of health staff have to apply for a specific licence.

But procedures for applying for licences are complicated, and the approval process notoriously slow.  No accommodation has been made to facilitate the COVID-19 response: no interpretative guidance – that would be valuable for all NGOs – has been issued, and no procedures established for reviewing applications more quickly.  There is no statement of policy indicating the circumstances under which specific licences might be granted.

Transactions with designated entities other than the government, such as internet providers whose services are necessary for remote learning, remain prohibited, and regulations expressly preclude applying for specific licences.

US sanctions frequently have a broad scope, both in direct and indirect application.  NGOs registered in the US, and staff who are US nationals, are directly bound by them, and grant agreements between the US government and non-US NGOs require the latter to comply with US sanctions.

This leaves the non-US NGOs in a Catch-22 situation – as they are not ‘US persons’ they cannot apply for specific licenses, but if they operate without such licences they may be violating grant requirements. This lack of clarity contributes to banks’ unwillingness to provide services, and may lead NGOs to curtail their activities.  This situation is regrettable in Syria, where the US is the first donor to humanitarian action, and also arises in other contexts where the US has imposed similar sanctions.

The EU’s sanctions for Syria are far more targeted. Of relevance to the COVID-19 response, they do not include prohibitions on the provision of support to the government that could impede assistance in the medical field.  There are, however, restrictions on the provision of certain types of PPE or substances used for disinfection, and also on transactions with designated telecommunications providers that affect continuity of education during lockdowns.  Although not prohibited, these activities must be authorized by member states’ competent authorities. Similar concerns arise about the complexity and delays of the processes.

The EU sanctions framework is complex, so the recent European Commission Guidance Note on Syria providing official clarification of how it applies to humanitarian action is welcome.  Although the note only explains the existing rules rather than amending them to facilitate the COVID-19 response, it does include a number of important elements relevant not just to Syria, but to the interplay between sanctions and humanitarian action more broadly.

First, it notes that ‘in accordance with International Humanitarian Law where no other option is available, the provision of humanitarian aid should not be prevented by EU restrictive measures’.  This recognizes that humanitarian assistance takes priority over any inconsistent restrictions in sanctions, and it also applies both to UN sanctions and unilateral measures. It is a starting premise that is frequently overlooked in discussions of whether sanctions should include exceptions for humanitarian action.  Its reaffirmation is timely, and it must guide states in drawing up future sanctions.

Second, the note states that sanctions do not require the screening of final beneficiaries of humanitarian programmes.  This means that once someone has been identified as an individual in need on the basis of humanitarian principles, no further screening is required.  This is extremely important to COVID-19 responses as it reflects a foundational principle of IHL that, to the fullest extent practicable, everyone is entitled to the medical care required by their condition without distinction.

Third, while responsibility for the implementation of sanctions, including the granting of authorizations, lies with member states, the note nudges them to adopt a number of measures to expedite and streamline such processes.  These include the suggestion that states could issue a single authorization for the provision of humanitarian aid in response to the pandemic.

The European Commission is to be commended for this initiative, which should be replicated for other contexts where the COVID-19 response may be undermined by sanctions.  These include Gaza, where it would be important to highlight that the designation of Hamas under EU counterterrorism sanctions must not prevent the provision of assistance to relevant ministries.

Failing to draw a distinction between the designated political party and the structures of civil administration risks turning targeted financial sanctions into measures akin to comprehensive sanctions.

The pandemic should serve as a catalyst for improving the system for the adoption and implementation of sanctions by the UN, the EU and individual states, including the UK as it elaborates its sanctions policy post-Brexit. The principles are clear: without prejudicing the aims for which sanctions have been imposed, humanitarian needs must always be prioritized, and met.

Making the case

The recent election results in Belarus have triggered revolution in yet another post-Soviet country and Aliaksandr Lukashenka’s response has been devastatingly brutal. However, the Belarusian people’s resilience and Western sanctions – adopted on 14 August – have proved effective. As some of the 6,700 jailed protesters were released, accounts of horrific treatment by law enforcement emerged: overcrowded cells, no food, torture, forced confessions, severe beatings , and threats of rape.

With reports of mounting violence, Polish MEP Radosław Sikorski warned Lukashenka to expect not just sanctions but also the possible intervention of the International Criminal Court (ICC), an idea supported by the opposition-led Belarus’ National Salvation. While there are significant impediments to the Court’s involvement, the impact of such an initiative could be ground-breaking.

Legal framework

The ICC considers criminal responsibility of top civilian or military leaders for only the most serious atrocities - war crimes, genocide, crimes against humanity and, in certain cases, the crime of aggression. In the context of Belarus, the Court’s jurisdiction over crimes against humanity might be relevant. According to the Rome Statute, the ICC’s founding treaty, crimes against humanity include widespread or systematic abuses directed against a civilian population. Atrocities relevant to Belarus include arbitrary imprisonment, torture, inhuman treatment, sexual violence, and enforced disappearances.

The ICC is a last resort. It can intervene only if states are unable or unwilling to properly investigate and prosecute serious crimes themselves. Although Belarus’s Criminal Code punishes crimes against humanity, as Lukashenka himself is implicated, impartial trials in the country are impossible while he is still in power. Other countries may investigate specific atrocities in Belarus under the universal jurisdiction principle. Universal jurisdiction greenlights investigations into the most serious crimes regardless of where they are perpetrated. German, Swedish and French proceedings on Syria are illustrative examples of this. Protesters may also file individual complaints of abuse to UN bodies under the protocols of the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights and the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women. The European Court of Human Rights is not an option for the protesters because Belarus is not a member of the Council of Europe.

As the UN mechanisms are yet to be triggered and there has not yet been any talk of universal jurisdiction proceedings, the question of recourse to the ICC remains. But as Belarus is not party to the Rome Statute, the only way to trigger the Court’s jurisdiction is a referral by the UN Security Council (UNSC). Even though it would be vetoed by Russia –  and, almost certainly, China – it could be worth pursuing.

The importance of symbolism

So far, the UNSC has referred to the ICC two situations in non-party states – Sudan and Libya. But for cases that do not end up being referred to the Court, the UNSC debates are as significant for what they manage to agree upon as they are for what they do not. Regarding Belarus, two impeded UNSC accountability initiatives are relevant: on Syria and MH17.

In 2014, Russia and China vetoed the referral of cases of violence in Syria to the ICC. In 2015, Russia was the only country to block the creation by the UNSC of a special tribunal to investigate Malaysian Airlines flight MH17, downed by a Russian missile over war-affected eastern Ukraine. In both cases, the vetoes delayed justice, but they did not prevent it. For Syria, special independent mechanisms to collect evidence for adjudication were developed. Although justice has yet to be done, except in states like Germany, the evidence is ready for any future court. For MH17, a proceeding at a domestic Dutch court became an alternative. Parallel to that, new evidence of Russia’s role in both Syria and the downing of MH17 emerged - contextualising its UNSC vetoes.

Russia’s stakes in the Belarusian elections are probably even higher: the victory of democracy in Belarus will deprive it of one of its closest and most dependent post-Soviet allies.

Even if Russia destroys any chance of Belarusian citizens using the ICC, the attempted ICC-Belarus discussion will not have been in vain. Russia’s opposition to the respective UNSC resolution would be a self-defeating validation of Lukashenka’s atrocities against his own people, unashamedly restated at one of the world’s top diplomatic negotiation tables. Similar to Syria and MH17, the UNSC would reconfirm its self-imposed impotency to defend basic human rights amid political conjuncture. This would bring more attention to the issue and catalyse action through other platforms, including the discussions across UN bodies and the consideration of Belarusians’ individual complaints of abuse, and could lead to tougher sanctions. It could also further make the case for universal jurisdiction proceedings in other countries.      

AI holds the potential to replace humans for tactical tasks in military operations beyond current applications such as navigation assistance. For example, in the US, the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency (DARPA) recently held the final round of its AlphaDogfight Trials where an algorithm controlling a simulated F-16 fighter was pitted against an Air Force pilot in virtual aerial combat. The algorithm won by 5-0. So what does this mean for the future of military operations?

The agency’s deputy director remarked that these tools are now ‘ready for weapons systems designers to be in the toolbox’. At first glance, the dogfight shows that an AI-enabled air combat would provide tremendous military advantage including the lack of survival instincts inherent to humans, the ability to consistently operate with high acceleration stress beyond the limitations of the human body and high targeting precision.

The outcome of these trials, however, does not mean that this technology is ready for deployment in the battlefield. In fact, an array of considerations must be taken into account prior to their deployment and use – namely the ability to adapt in real-life combat situations, physical limitations and legal compliance.

Testing environment versus real-life applications

First, as with all technologies, the performance of an algorithm in its testing environment is bound to differ from real-life applications such as in the case of cluster munitions. For instance, Google Health developed an algorithm to help with diabetic retinopathy screening. While the algorithm’s accuracy rate in the lab was over 90 per cent, it did not perform well out of the lab because the algorithm was used to high-quality scans in its training, it rejected more than a fifth of the real-life scans which were deemed as being below the quality threshold required. As a result, the process ended up being as time-consuming and costly – if not more so – than traditional screening.

Similarly, virtual environments akin to the AlphaDogfight Trials do not reflect the extent of risks, hazards and unpredictability of real-life combat. In the dogfight exercise, for example, the algorithm had full situational awareness and was repeatedly trained to the rules, parameters and limitations of its operating environment. But, in a real-life dynamic and battlefield, the list of variables is long and will inevitably fluctuate: visibility may be poor, extreme weather could affect operations and the performance of aircraft and the behaviour and actions of adversaries will be unpredictable.

Every single eventuality would need to be programmed in line with the commander’s intent in an ever-changing situation or it would drastically affect the performance of algorithms including in target identification and firing precision.

Hardware limitations

Another consideration relates to the limitations of the hardware that AI systems depend on. Algorithms depend on hardware to operate equipment such as sensors and computer systems – each of which are constrained by physical limitations. These can be targeted by an adversary, for example, through electronic interference to disrupt the functioning of the computer systems which the algorithms are operating from.

Hardware may also be affected involuntarily. For instance, a ‘pilotless’ aircraft controlled by an algorithm can indeed undergo higher accelerations, and thus, higher g-force than the human body can endure. However, the aircraft in itself is also subject to physical limitations such as acceleration limits beyond which parts of the aircraft, such as its sensors, may be severely damaged which in turn affects the algorithm’s performance and, ultimately, mission success. It is critical that these physical limitations are factored into the equation when deploying these machines especially when they so heavily rely on sensors.

Legal compliance

Another major, and perhaps the greatest, consideration relates to the ability to rely on machines for legal compliance. The DARPA dogfight exclusively focused on the algorithm’s ability to successfully control the aircraft and counter the adversary, however, nothing indicates its ability to ensure that strikes remain within the boundaries of the law.

In an armed conflict, the deployment and use of such systems in the battlefield are not exempt from international humanitarian law (IHL) and most notably its customary principles of distinction, proportionality and precautions in attack. It would need to be able to differentiate between civilians, combatants and military objectives, calculate whether its attacks will be proportionate against the set military objective and live collateral damage estimates and take the necessary precautions to ensure the attacks remain within the boundaries of the law – including the ability to abort if necessary. This would also require the machine to have the ability to stay within the rules of engagement for that particular operation.

It is therefore critical to incorporate IHL considerations from the conception and throughout the development and testing phases of algorithms to ensure the machines are sufficiently reliable for legal compliance purposes.

It is also important that developers address the 'black box' issue whereby the algorithm’s calculations are so complex that it is impossible for humans to understand how it came to its results. It is not only necessary to address the algorithm’s opacity to improve the algorithm’s performance over time, it is also key for accountability and investigation purposes in cases of incidents and suspected violations of applicable laws.

Reliability, testing and experimentation

Algorithms are becoming increasingly powerful and there is no doubt that they will confer tremendous advantages to the military. Over-hype, however, must be avoided at the expense of the machine’s reliability on the technical front as well as for legal compliance purposes.

The testing and experimentation phases are key during which developers will have the ability to fine-tune the algorithms. Developers must, therefore, be held accountable for ensuring the reliability of machines by incorporating considerations pertaining to performance and accuracy, hardware limitations as well as legal compliance. This could help prevent incidents in real life that result from overestimating of the capabilities of AI in military operations. 

One of the features of financial markets since early summer has been a decline in the value of the dollar against many currencies, and with it, an especially interesting acceleration in the price of gold. In addition to the usual professional market analysis about the dollar’s movement, this has led to speculation that it might be the beginning of the end of the dollar’s pre-eminence.

Having spent far too much of my professional life as a supposed currency expert, I reiterate something I learnt early on: the foreign exchange business sometimes grants an analyst their 15 minutes of fame, but no expert is a match for the millions who participate in this huge global market all day long. But I spent over 30 years in the financial markets, the vast majority in the hubbub of the forex market. And along the journey, I think I learnt a few tricks of the trade.

At the core of trying to answer questions about the dollar, I learnt a long time ago that there are two entirely separate questions, one of which has two subsections, about the dollar. Firstly, there is the question about the use of the dollar. Will it continue to dominate the world’s financial system as the most widely accepted medium of exchange?

This is not at all the same issue as the dollar’s day-to-day performance against other currencies. This is the second question, which is almost definitely the most pertinent one to what has happened during the summer. How the dollar’s value moves against other currencies is driven by a structural, or a valuation component, and a cyclical component. Each can be analysed separately, and if you were daft enough to devote the years I did to the process, you can combine the two, to have a dynamically adjusted fair value, persuading yourself at least that such an approach combines all available information at any point in time.

In terms of valuation, the most common approach is so-called purchasing power parity, which holds that a currency, in equilibrium, will ultimately reflect the difference in prices between two countries. If inflation is persistently higher in the US than in the eurozone, then the equilibrium value of the dollar will decline over time. I developed my own version of equilibrium currency rates, as it seemed to me in the real world, that the real inflation adjusted value of a currency was not stable, and that it moved over time. This was a reflection of productivity differentials between two countries. I christened it GSDEER: 'the Goldman Sachs Dynamic Equilibrium Real Exchange Rate' when I joined the firm in 1995.

What I learned is that when a currency is more than two standard deviations away from its fair value, it makes a huge amount of sense to watch closely, and when the momentum changes, it is worth going with this trend reversal. The momentum can change based on a change in the forces that have driven the currency away from its fair value, although it can be often easier to detect simply by watching the change in price.

One of the things that has frustrated currency participants over the past decade, with the exception of the Swiss franc and the pound, is that other major currencies have not been that far away from their fair value against the dollar or each other. Even during the dollar’s rise in recent years, including the period up to the summer, while it had clearly become overvalued, with the possible exception of the pound, it hadn’t become more than two standard deviations above its own fair value. In this regard, I have believed that one might be on the lookout for a chance to buy the pound against the dollar, and perhaps against the yen.

The cyclical component of a currency’s movement around its conceptual equilibrium can perhaps best be captured in the nominal interest rate adjusted for inflation expectations. I persuaded myself that the actual spot exchange rate of the dollar on any one day should be close to the adjusted GSDEER, and if it was not, then it would be useful for traders.

The dollar had become more interesting pre-COVID, as it appeared to have risen notably against many currencies, including the euro. And in this regard, the dollar was highly susceptible, and has turned out to be actually vulnerable, to a change in the state of the US and euro area economies. Now that the Federal Reserve has returned to extremely expansive monetary policy, and with it, lower real interest rates, a dollar decline seemed pretty inevitable.

At current prices, on 26 August, the dollar still seems modestly expensive compared to dynamically adjusted fair value. The dollar decline could persist. In the late 1980s and mid 1990s, the dollar fell to very low levels and became very undervalued — this tended to coincide with widespread talk about the dollar’s preeminence, which turned out to be, at least for that era, wrong. And I do share the views of some people who believe, as a result of US policies, conditions are more conducive to a sustained period of dollar weakness. This requires strong ongoing evidence that Europe, China and much of the rest of Asia continue to manage COVID-19 better than the US, and that their cyclical recoveries from the pandemic continue to surprise relative to the US.

Now as for the first question, about the demise of the dollar’s dominance, let me repeat that this is largely a separate issue, but I encourage any reader to be careful about getting sucked into this belief in making an investment or hedging decision.

It is quite possible that the use of the dollar can decline, and start off a systematic decline even when its value is strong. Indeed, in the past couple of years when its value was largely rising, decisions made by US policymakers to use the dollar’s dominance as a way of penalising other countries has resulted in those countries reducing their share of dollar currency reserves. Russia is a particular example, and there is some modest evidence that China is doing likewise.

And the opposite can also be true.

Ultimately, the dollar’s dominance cannot persistently outweigh the relative decline of the US economy in the world, which has been occurring now for 20 years. At some point, it will start to be replaced by something else. Whether that is, the renminbi, the euro, Bitcoin, the return of gold — all are conceivable, and may happen. It might be starting now. But don’t confuse that with where the dollar’s price is heading against other currencies in coming days, weeks, or in 2021.

This article was originally published in The Article.

As the UK’s post-Brexit foreign policy takes shape, it is increasingly clear that joint cooperation with France and Germany will be of key importance. The current dispute with the US over imposing further sanctions on Iran shows that the UK values continuing strong cooperation with its European partners on key international issues, even at the cost of a major transatlantic dispute. Moreover, the recent first meeting of the German, French and British defence ministers in an E3 (European/EU 3) format signalled political commitment by all three partners to double down on joint diplomatic cooperation despite troubled UK-EU Brexit negotiations.

The UK working with France and Germany as part of the E3 has evolved in recent years from a shared approach to diplomacy on Iran’s nuclear programme to include a broader range of international security issues, such as the conflict in Syria and freedom of navigation in the South China Sea. E3 cooperation has so far been largely low-key, marked by close relationships and daily contacts between officials rather than high-profile summits between the leaders of the three countries. In the absence of any EU-UK negotiations on a future foreign, security and defence policy relationship, the E3 represents a key arrangement for aligning and mobilizing Europe’s ‘big three’ states. In a recent Chatham House research paper, we argue that Germany, France and the UK could and should maintain the E3 as a platform for flexible diplomatic coordination and crisis response, and expand its focus to address a new set of thematic, regional or multilateral topics. These could range from further cooperation on arms control to a reform agenda for multilateral institutions or a joint approach to the broader European neighbourhood.

The E3 countries have complementary reasons for wanting to make the format work. France and Germany recognize that the high degree of shared foreign and security policy interests with the UK require a pragmatic format for close cooperation, to provide insurance against an underdeveloped EU-UK relationship, help efficiently combine European forces and bring added value to the EU and NATO – but also to see the UK aligned with Europe on major international issues. Close foreign and security policy relationships with France and Germany will remain of interest to the UK as well, in order for it to keep playing an effective role in European security and to work with like-minded partners on key international issues.

Brexit presents both a major challenge for the E3 relationship and a major rationale for developing the format further. Neither France nor Germany see E3 cooperation as a substitute for a deal on a future EU-UK relationship or for the development of the EU’s own foreign, security and defence policy. Failure to reach a Brexit deal and a collapse of the EU-UK relationship into hostility and antagonism could make E3 cooperation politically difficult in the short term. In the longer term, were the UK and the EU to adopt very different foreign and security policies, E3 cooperation would also make less sense.

Even if an agreement is reached on the future EU-UK relationship by the end of this year, for France and Germany the challenge will be to reconcile their work with the UK through the E3 with their commitment to the EU. France and Germany have different rationales for favouring E3 cooperation. While France is more relaxed about its intergovernmental approach and prioritizes deliverables, Germany is worried about the perceived competition between the E3 and the EU. However, they both share the view that E3 cooperation should complement rather than undermine EU foreign, security and defence policy cooperation, while acting to bridge or smooth cooperation between the EU and the UK. If E3 cooperation were to conflict with broader EU policy by generating hostility from excluded member states (such as Poland or Italy) and therefore distract from building consensus for broader EU initiatives, such as post-COVID economic recovery, E3 cooperation may falter.

Another key factor for the E3 will be the evolution of transatlantic relations, and whether the next US administration presents Europe with the dilemma of choosing between broad alignment with the US or open confrontation, as in the case of the Iran nuclear deal’s ‘snapback’ mechanism. As a non-EU state, the UK may have more autonomy to set its own policies but it will not be able to escape a choice between either a broad alliance with European states or a more ambivalent and ad-hoc relationship with the continent, while also creating new formats for cooperation with other democracies such as the Five Eyes states. This type of diplomatic ‘venue shopping’ could create tensions with European partners, especially Germany and France who hope to anchor London into a broad European approach. The UK’s ongoing Integrated Security, Defence and Foreign Policy Review should provide clarity as to the UK’s future European ambitions and what that means for the E3.

Given the growing instability surrounding Europe, reinforced by an eventful summer 2020– with the Iran nuclear deal in limbo, renewed tensions between Turkey and Greece in the Mediterranean, protests in Belarus, increasing US-China rivalry and further instability in the Sahel – the E3 has recently been developing a more visible profile. By convening the first meeting of E3 defence ministers in August, Germany showed leadership and a commitment to the format despite its fears of hostility from other EU member states towards increased E3 cooperation. Officially widening E3 cooperation to include defence, while mostly symbolic for now, satisfies Berlin by marking a step towards institutionalization, appeases Paris by putting on the joint agenda issues such as the recent coup in Mali and the crisis in the Eastern Mediterranean, and shows some political commitment by London at a time of tense UK-EU Brexit negotiations.

France, the UK and Germany all agree that the E3 is a necessary cooperation format that needs to be developed further. Recent events seem to show willingness on the part of the three countries to make it work, both in spite of and because of upcoming Brexit tensions. Longer-term challenges – relating to intra-EU tensions over the role of the E3, the future EU-UK relationship and transatlantic divergences – are still to be addressed and managed for the format to reach its full potential. Nevertheless, in today’s uncertain strategic context for Europe, the E3 is establishing itself as a go-to format for cooperation for Europe’s ‘big three’.

Does the UK have a foreign policy? The failures in Iraq and Afghanistan curbed our Blairite appetite for intervention. Then the Brexit referendum and the advent of Donald Trump as US president upended the European and Atlantic pillars of our strategy. The UK has been outflanked by Russian opportunism, and on China it is confused about the balance of security risk and economic opportunity. Meanwhile, the world is accelerating into a dangerous, bipolar era of geopolitics.

The claim that leaving the EU would open a highway to British global influence was always hollow. Since 2016, the UK’s influence has declined; our forces are barely present in international theatres of conflict and, as recent days have again shown, the Brexit soap opera undermines our diplomacy and soft power. So far, there are only glimmers of a new direction.

On issues such as Iran, climate change and excluding Russia from the G7, the UK has stayed close to EU positions. Elsewhere, it has taken a tougher stance on China and Hong Kong that is aligned more closely with the US and the Five Eyes intelligence community, which includes Australia, Canada and New Zealand. There is also a renewed focus on human rights.

However, this does not add up to a coherent strategy. Getting it to do so is the job of this autumn’s 'integrated review' of security, defence, development and foreign policy. The timing is driven by the government’s comprehensive spending review, which — bizarrely — means they will reach conclusions without knowing what sort of deal, if any, we will strike with the EU, or who will be the next US president.

The challenge is to define a credible and distinctive role for a freestanding medium power with strong traditions of diplomacy, defence, intelligence, trade and aid. Not everything has changed; although unmoored from the EU, the UK remains a significant player in Nato, the UN Security Council and other international organisations. 

The review needs to start by deciding what matters most. A sensible list would include avoiding conflict between the US and China, maintaining global prosperity, preventing nuclear proliferation, addressing environmental damage and climate change, and shoring up a multilateral system of international rules. There will always be urgent problems, and it matters how we respond to them. But a foreign policy should be geared to enduring aims.

On each priority, the review must examine how the UK, outside the EU, can make a difference. Sometimes it may find a specific national role, such as convening next year’s COP26 climate conference. Nine times out of 10, however, the route to our national goals will lie, as before, through leveraging relationships with others.

Three relationships matter most. We need a plan for the US, whoever wins the election. If Boris Johnson is the European leader closest to Donald Trump, how will the British prime minister turn that to his advantage if Trump wins? On the other hand, a Joe Biden victory would better serve our wider interest in a reinvigorated Euro-Atlantic community — although, under this government, that would also weaken our hand in Washington compared with Berlin and Paris. What is the plan to counter that?

Second, we need clear thinking on China. In the new bipolar geopolitics, the UK should stand firmly with the US — although not to the extent of allowing Washington to dictate our policy, or of cutting necessary and useful links with China. We need to decide on a strategic objective. Are we preparing for lasting great-power confrontation or even conflict; or are we working for a more sophisticated global equilibrium? In either case, who will be our best international partners?

Evidently, this requires a constructive relationship with Europe, with which the UK has the most obvious shared interests. Bilateral relationships will be valuable, as will the E3 group of the UK, France and Germany. But our reluctance to negotiate a foreign policy relationship with the EU collectively is an error.

When the brainy Whitehall strategists have put down their pens, the review will then, as always, descend into a hard-nosed haggle over money. There are already large holes in Ministry of Defence procurement budgets; the COVID-induced recession will make things worse. With new priorities to fund, such as cybersecurity, the argument will be less about spending more than gouging out savings to redistribute.

Finally, the review must look at delivery. As Downing Street has disempowered ministries, Whitehall’s foreign policy machinery has become over-centralized. Trade and economic considerations should have more weight. Delivery of the new strategy should also be led by a reformed and renamed Department for International Affairs that has leadership on foreign, development and trade policy, oversees external intelligence and works closely with the Ministry of Defence.

Only with such clarity on priorities, relationships and resources can we craft the coherent foreign policy post-Brexit Britain needs. The task will be easier if the UK and EU reach a deal in December.

This article was originally published in the Financial Times.

Although there is a long road ahead to achieve sustainable peace and formidable challenges remain, the hope is Sudan can turn the page on decades of war that has left hundreds of thousands dead and millions displaced, particularly in Darfur and the Two Areas (South Kordofan and Blue Nile).

The peace agreement, between Sudan’s transitional government and the Sudan Revolutionary Front (SRF), a broad alliance of armed and other movements, and Minni Minawi’s Sudan Liberation Movement, is not yet comprehensive as it did not include two other important armed movements.

Expected to be formally signed in early October, the deal has been hailed as a ’historic achievement’ by the UN secretary-general, and the international community also commended the government of South Sudan for its positive role as mediator and urged hold-out groups to join the peace process. Much does depend on delivering on the agreement, and the experience of implementing past peace accords in Sudan has been dismal, particularly when it comes to bringing tangible benefits to people on the ground.

What potentially makes the Juba agreement different is that Sudan’s civilian-led transitional government aspires to deliver peace, justice and democracy in line with the goals of the revolution; that the agreement was negotiated between the Sudanese themselves, with a light touch from the South Sudanese mediation and low-key logistical and technical support from the international community; and that much of the negotiations were conducted between former comrades, in marked contrast to the confrontational atmosphere that prevailed during the Bashir era.

As Prime Minister Abdalla Hamdok put it: ’This is a Sudanese peace, made with our own hands and by our own efforts’ and: ’This is not a paper agreement, but is a living organism that needs care, attention and political will from all of us’.

Achievements of the agreement

The result of almost one year’s hard work in Juba, the agreement is comprehensive in scope and addresses the fundamental issues of Sudan’s crises in Darfur, the Two Areas and other marginalized regions, albeit in a mixture of regional and national protocols. It goes a long way to realizing the vision of a democratic ‘New Sudan’ based on respect for the diversity of the Sudanese people and equal citizenship without religious, ethnic, cultural or gender discrimination.

There is a focus on the concerns of historically marginalized populations in Sudan’s conflict zones and disadvantaged areas, and it addresses root causes of conflict, such as issues of identity, marginalization, the relationship between religion and state, governance, resource-sharing, land issues, social justice, and equality at the national level.

The deal also looks to resolve the consequences of conflict, such as humanitarian relief, the safe and voluntary return of IDPs and refugees to their original lands and compensation, eviction of illegal settlers and the development and reconstruction of the conflict-affected areas. It provides for significant devolution of power and resources to the regions, including autonomy for the Two Areas and restoration of a single Darfur region. On transitional justice, the government has committed to cooperate fully with the International Criminal Court (ICC) and ensure Bashir and others subject to arrest warrants will ‘appear before’ the ICC.

This deal will change the face of the transitional government by bringing marginalized forces to the centre of the political process. The transitional period will extend to 2023, with the armed movements having three seats in the (currently 11-member) Sovereign Council and 25% of seats in the Cabinet and soon-to-be-formed Legislative Assembly.

The power-sharing provisions have been criticized as disproportionate to the size of the movements’ political constituencies and military presence inside Sudan. But the movements argue significant representation in the government is necessary to support implementation and that their arrival in Khartoum will help to strengthen the transition to democracy.

Establishing a single, national professional army, reflective of the diversity of Sudan and with a new military doctrine opens the way for much-needed comprehensive security sector reform. During the transition, this will include the creation of a 12,000 strong joint force between government security forces and the armed movements to help protect civilians in Darfur. Importantly, mechanisms allowing for civilian input on security reforms are also established.

The deal also guarantees religious freedom and the separation of religion from politics. This ensures religion will not be exploited by state institutions as it was during the Bashir-era, provides for the constitution to be based on equal citizenship, and for the establishment of a National Commission for Religious Freedom to protect the rights of Christians and other minorities. In the Two Areas, the autonomous government will have special legislative powers to pass laws based on the secular 1973 Constitution.

Increasing inclusivity

Key to achieving inclusive and sustainable peace is ensuring popular ownership and finding ways to engage civil society stakeholders and marginalized communities such as nomads in dialogue, reconciliation and social peace initiatives. The negotiations were mainly a top-down elitist process. Although the UN brought IDPs, tribal leaders and women’s groups to Juba for short periods, there was limited participation by civil society. However, the agreement provides for a wider range of stakeholders to feed into a comprehensive peace through reconciliation and transitional justice mechanisms, follow-on conferences and an inclusive National Constitutional Conference.

Achieving a comprehensive peace will also mean bringing other armed movements on board, particularly those led by Abdel Aziz Al Hilu and Abdel Wahid Al Nur, both of whom hold significant territory, forces and support (in the Two Areas and Darfur respectively). Negotiations in Juba with Abdel Aziz had stalled over his demands for a secular state or, failing that, the right to self-determination, but he has now reached a preliminary agreement with Prime Minister Hamdok on a way forward.

Other challenges of implementing peace

Turning the peace agreement into reality on the ground will face many other challenges given the fragility of a civilian-military transitional government, distrust, and competition between the signatory movements and some political parties, as well as increasing insecurity in many parts of the country caused by armed militias, inter-tribal violence, the proliferation of weapons, and sabotage by elements of the former regime. There is also likely to be resistance from groups such as illegal settlers who see their interests being threatened.

With its economy in meltdown because of economic mismanagement by the Bashir regime, COVID-19, and unprecedented floods, finding resources to implement the peace deal is far beyond the means of Sudan’s cash-strapped government. Implementation therefore requires sustained and generous support from its regional and international partners, including the country’s urgent removal from the US State Sponsors of Terrorism list, which is preventing debt relief, access to concessionary loans and large-scale foreign investment. With donor budgets under heavy pressure, raising money will be hard, but by continuing to support a nascent democracy in a strategically important but unstable region, Sudan’s allies will be safeguarding their long-term interests.

If properly implemented, the Juba peace agreement is a major first step towards creating a ‘New Sudan’ based on peace, equal citizenship and social justice. Key tests of whether Sudan can finally turn the page are whether the signatory movements and other revolutionary forces can unite to deliver the dividends of peace for the victims of Sudan’s conflicts, and embrace inclusion rather than tribalism and narrow political affiliation; whether the remaining armed movements are ready to start serious negotiations for a comprehensive peace; and whether Sudan now receives the support and attention it deserves from the international community. Surely Sudan has already come too far for this historic opportunity to be lost.

The G20 summit in November was to be a moment when the world focused its attention on Saudi Arabia. As the leaders of the world's 20 largest economies came together for the first time in an Arab capital and presided over the world’s greatest challenges and opportunities, King Salman would have taken centre stage with his son and crown prince Mohammed bin Salman not far behind in the spotlight.

However this will now be a virtual summit, and that is probably a blessing in disguise for the kingdom and its leadership which has not enjoyed a good year. It shares responsibility for crashing the price of oil, which, in conjunction with COVID-19, has brought the global economy to its knees. And it continues to be mired in the Yemen conflict, whereas its ally the United Arab Emirates (UAE) has, by and large, managed to extract itself while also seeking to rescue its reputation by signing a ‘peace deal’ with Israel.

More recently, it has been forced to push back plans to host the next instalment of ‘Davos in Desert’ until 2021 and the crown prince’s flagship charity Misk is currently under review. The Public Investment Fund (PIF) made a wholly unsuccessful bid to secure a major stake in Newcastle United Football Club which brought an unfavourable ruling at the World Trade Organization (WTO) and a heap of damaging media attention.

Squandered opportunity

Nothing washes away the stain of Jamal Khashoggi’s murder or the continuing imprisonment of women and men charged with being traitors. But in many ways, leading the G20 offered the Saudi leadership, especially Mohammed bin Salman, a chance to press reset and atone for some of the excesses of his more controversial policies, such as the war in Yemen and blockade of Qatar. But he appears to have squandered the opportunity so far and there are no signs that is about to change.

Hosting the summit in Riyadh would have given Mohammed bin Salman an opportunity to try and recapture the heady days of 2018, when many of the world's leaders and even the media still viewed him as a force for good. He would have had a captive audience and, instead of staying away from Western capitals which he has chosen to do recently, he could have been feted by world leaders on his home turf. Moreover, the presidency agenda — empowering people, safeguarding the planet, and shaping new frontiers — would have lent itself to meaningful engagement on key policy issues.

Although many analysts and commentators quite rightly argue that Riyadh’s focus on empowerment and safeguarding the planet is widely hypocritical given the kingdom has lurched further towards quashing any signs of opposition and remains highly dependent upon hydrocarbons, at least the ambitious goals of Vision 2030 ought to align with the G20 agenda. The goals of Vision 2030 remain aspirational and are far from ever being met, but there is synchronicity between the two agendas. In fact, the overview of Saudi Arabia’s G20 Presidency documentation states ‘the G20 agenda has a strong echo in the daily lives of the people in the Kingdom’.

Saudi Arabia really needs to empower its people and capitalize upon its youth dividend but that requires, as so many have argued persuasively, long-term investment in education, training, and skills acquisition, and will not be achieved overnight. It needs strategic thinking, capacity-building, commitment, scope for course correction, and patience. There are no quick wins, no shortcuts.

Safeguarding the planet is common to one and all but breaking a dependency upon hydrocarbons, diversifying its economy, and mitigating against the growing impact of climate change are all pressing issues Saudi Arabia needs to address. A failure to achieve these goals in a time-sensitive fashion poses a threat to the well-being of the kingdom and, in order to do so, it must empower its people and use technology wisely to advance the process. Saudi Arabia should be at the front of the pack, but is being surpassed by its neighbours and is in danger of being left way behind.

With its wealth and youthful population, the kingdom can be at the cutting edge of shaping new frontiers. It can deploy its substantive funds to support its own innovators and — to borrow the jargon — create an ecosystem that not only offers Saudis an environment fostering creativity, but also one that draws talent into the kingdom.

This does not mean investing in ‘white elephant’ projects that fail to spark the imagination of Saudis, or following the crowd to buy football clubs without rhyme or reason. It means gearing up to address everyday issues that preoccupy minds of Saudis, such as employment, housing, healthcare, and the well-being of family members. It is notable how the excitement of ‘bread and circus’ issues has abated and the focus moved once again towards family, faith and finance.

The Saudi presidency of the G20 is in danger of passing by with a whimper and the November summit may now be unremarkable. This does not mean the hard work of the continuously active engagement groups will go unnoticed or to waste, but it does mean the photo-opportunity will be passed up and the joint statement garner less interest than usual.

While it may feel like a lost opportunity for the kingdom and, in particular, Mohammed bin Salman, they should both breathe a sigh of relief. In many ways, they will be let off the hook by avoiding the direct scrutiny of the world’s media and human rights organizations. However, the crown prince could still seize the initiative given the spotlight will be on him, albeit from afar, and take bold steps towards resolving the thorny issues that have come to mar his pathway to power.

The emergence of a multipolar global economy in which the US is no longer the main engine of growth has boosted the role of economic diplomacy, the setting of foreign economic policy. While the EU remains the world’s biggest economic bloc and the US is still an economic powerhouse, it is Asia – China in particular – which has created hundreds of millions of new middle-class consumers, helping to drive global economic growth.

This shift has ignited an era of competition between the US and China and, by implication, a debate about the merits of different political and legal systems. The difficulty for the rest of the world is how best to navigate this highly polarized climate – in recent history, only the Cold War comes close to having matched the adversarial dynamics of such a divided international community.

In conducting economic diplomacy, governments should consider their economic strengths, the importance of transparency, and how best to operate in a fragmented international system.

First, the setting of trade and investment policy should take into account developments in the global economy. One trend worth noting is the rising importance of services – in particular digital services – in international trade. The expanding cross-border trade in intangibles such as business services and data means the negotiation, definition and enforcement of standards to regulate these are of growing importance for the global economy, and for policymakers in many countries.

In contrast, negotiations around merchandise trade are likely to take a somewhat lower profile. Under the World Trade Organization (WTO), tariffs on manufactured goods have dropped significantly in any case – though there is still scope to lower them. Contemporary diplomacy, as well as disputes, around the lowering or raising of barriers to international trade will increasingly concern non-tariff measures applicable to services rather than those, such as tariffs, that traditionally apply to goods.

For service-based economies, it is vital free-trade agreements (FTAs) encompass regulations and standards for intangibles. But this is difficult in a multipolar global economy where the US, China and the EU all have different legal and regulatory systems, and raises the prospect of a fragmented global trading system divided into blocs of countries adhering to different standards.

A pluralistic or mini-multilateral approach to trade such as the stalled Trade in Services Agreement (TiSA) could help resolve elements of this division. TiSA was launched in 2013 by a group of advanced economies, not the entirety of the WTO, to further opening up global services trade. However, talks have been on hold since 2016 and, in the current climate, it is near impossible to conclude negotiations when the major economies do not come to the table and instead promote their own standards with their closest trading partners.

Second, policymakers should consider that, in an era of heightened trade tensions, any framework for economic diplomacy needs to be transparent if it is to be trusted and credible. Such a framework could centre on commercial openness and consistency with a country’s foreign and intelligence policy aims. For example, clearly spelling out how a country reviews prospective foreign investment and applying this consistently would demonstrate that all projects are treated equally without singling out any individual country. This would be an improvement over an ad hoc and less transparent approach .

A major challenge in creating a ‘principle-based’ economic diplomacy framework of this kind is reconciling competing policy aims. To this end, several key questions need answering. Should trade agreements encompass non-economic elements, such as foreign policy aims? Do concerns over national security mean that trade and investment agreements should favour allies? Could such a framework assess a trading or investment partner in terms of national security as well as potential economic benefit?

A country should also re-think how to undertake a wider international role when embarking on economic diplomacy. The inability of the major powers to set new global rules has had a detrimental impact on an international system under significant strain. The stalling of multilateral trade talks and urgency of international coordinated action on global public goods, such as health and the environment, shows there is a pressing need for a new approach to international relations.

Economic diplomacy could, and should, bolster the rules-based multilateral system. The challenge is engaging the major powers without whom widespread adoption of global policies and standards is less likely. Yet the chances of wider adoption might actually be better if a proposal does not come from either the US or China. This opens up the opportunity for other countries to be ‘honest brokers’ and potentially improve their own international standing.

In an era of increasing tension between great powers, economic diplomacy requires re-tooling. It should consider not just economic considerations, but also broader foreign policy aims, greater transparency, and a pluralistic approach to global rules to strengthen the multilateral system.