The renminbi seems to be back in business as a Chinese tool of retaliation against US tariffs. A 1.5 per cent fall in the currency early this month in response to proposed new US tariffs was only a start. Since the middle of August the renminbi has weakened further, and the exchange rate is now 4 per cent weaker than at the start of the month. We may well see more of a ‘weaponized’ renminbi, but there are four good reasons why Beijing might be wise to think before shooting.

The first has to do with how China seeks to promote its place in the world. China has been at pains to manage the collapse of its relations with the US in a way that allows it to present itself as an alternative pillar of global order, and as a source of stability in the international system, not to mention moral authority. This has deep roots.

Anyone investigating the history of Chinese statecraft will quickly come across an enduring distinction in Chinese thought: between wang dao, the kingly, or righteous way, and ba dao, the way of the hegemon. Since Chinese thinkers and officials routinely describe US behaviour since the Second World War as hegemonic, it behoves Chinese policymakers to do as much as possible to stay on moral high-ground in their behaviour towards Washington. Only in that way would President Xi be able properly to assert China’s claim to leadership.

Indeed, China has a notable track record of using exchange rate stability to enhance its reputation as a force for global stability. Both in the aftermath of the Asian crisis in 1997, and of the Global Financial Crisis in 2008, Chinese exchange rate stability was offered as a way of demonstrating China’s trustworthiness and its commitment to multilateral order.

Devaluing the renminbi in a meaningful way now might have a different rationale, but the cost to China’s claim to virtue, and its bid to offer itself as a guardian of global stability, might be considerable.

That’s particularly true because of the second problem China has in thinking about a weaker renminbi: it may not be all that effective in sustaining Chinese trade. One reason for this is the increasing co-movement with the renminbi of currencies in countries with whom China competes.

As the renminbi changes against the dollar, so do the Taiwan dollar, the Korean won, the Singapore dollar and the Indian rupee. In addition, the short-run impact of a weaker renminbi is more likely to curb imports than to expand exports, and so its effects might be contractionary. 

An ineffective devaluation of the renminbi would be particularly useless because of the third risk China needs to consider, namely the risk of retaliation by the US administration. Of this there is already plenty of evidence, of course.

The US Treasury’s declaration of China as a ‘currency manipulator’ on 5 August bears little relationship to the actual formal criteria that the Treasury uses to define that term, but equally the US had warned the Chinese back in May that these criteria don’t bind its hand. By abandoning a rules-based approach to the definition of currency manipulation, the US has opened wide the door to further antagonism, and Beijing should have no doubt that Washington will walk through that door if it wants to.

The fourth, and possibly most self-destructive, risk that China has to consider is that a weaker renminbi might destabilize China’s capital account, fuelling capital outflows that would leave China’s policymakers feeling very uncomfortable.

Indeed, there is already evidence that Chinese residents feel less confident that the renminbi is a reliable store of value, now that there is no longer a sense that the currency is destined to appreciate against the dollar. The best illustration of this comes from the ‘errors and omissions’, or unaccounted-for outflows, in China’s balance of payments.

The past few years have seen these outflows rise a lot, averaging some $200 billion per year during the past four calendar years, or almost 2 per cent GDP; and around $90 billion in the first three months of 2019 alone. These are scarily large numbers.

The risk here is that Chinese expectations about the renminbi are ‘adaptive’: the more the exchange rate weakens, the more Chinese residents expect it to weaken, and so the demand for dollars goes up. In principle, the only way to deal with this risk would be for the People's Bank of China (PBOC) to implement a large, one-off devaluation of the renminbi to a level at which dollars are expensive enough that no one wants to buy them anymore.

This would be very dangerous, though: it presupposes that the PBOC could know in advance the ‘equilibrium’ value of the renminbi. It would take an unusually brave central banker to claim such foresight, especially since that equilibrium value could itself be altered by the mere fact of such a dramatic change in policy.

No one really knows precisely by what mechanism capital outflows from China have accelerated in recent years, but a very good candidate is tourism. The expenditure of outbound Chinese tourists abroad has risen a lot in recent years, and that increase very closely mirrors the rise in ‘errors and omissions’. So the suspicion must be that the increasing flow of Chinese tourists – nearly one half of whom last year simply travelled to capital-controls-free Hong Kong and Macao – is just creating opportunities for unrecorded capital flight.

This raises a disturbing possibility: that the most effective way for China to devalue the renminbi without the backfire of capital outflows would be simultaneously to stem the outflow of Chinese tourists. China has form in this regard, albeit for differing reasons: this month it suspended a programme that allowed individual tourists from 47 Chinese cities to travel to Taiwan.

A more global restriction on Chinese tourism might make a devaluation of the renminbi ‘safer’, and it would have the collateral benefit of helping to increase China’s current account surplus, the evaporation of which in recent years owes a lot to rising tourism expenditure and which is almost certainly a source of unhappiness in Beijing, where mercantilism remains popular.

But a world where China could impose such draconian measures would be one where nationalism has reached heights we haven’t yet seen. Let’s hope we don’t go there.

This article was originally published in the Financial Times.

This week the UK will start negotiating its future relationship with the European Union. The government is trying to convince the EU that it is serious about its red lines and is prepared to walk away from negotiations if the UK’s ‘regulatory freedom’ is not accepted – a no-deal scenario that would result in tariffs between the EU and the UK. Yet at the same time the story it is telling the world is that Britain is ‘re-emerging after decades of hibernation as a campaigner for global free trade’, as Boris Johnson put it in his speech in Greenwich a few weeks ago.

The EU is understandably confused. It’s a bit odd to claim to be campaigning for free trade at the exact moment you are creating new barriers to trade. If Britain were so committed to frictionless trade, it wouldn’t have left the EU in the first place – and having decided to leave, it would have sought to maintain a close economic relationship with the EU, like that of Norway, rather than seek a basic trade deal like Canada’s. 

As well as creating confusion, the narrative also absurdly idealizes free trade. Johnson invoked Richard Cobden and the idea that free trade is ‘God’s diplomacy – the only certain way of uniting people in the bonds of peace since the more freely goods cross borders the less likely it is that troops will ever cross borders’. But the idea that free trade prevents war was shattered by the outbreak of the First World War, which brought to an end the first era of globalization.

We also know that the domestic effects of free trade are more complex and problematic than Johnson suggested. Economic liberalization increases efficiency by removing friction but also creates disruption and has huge distributional consequences – that is, it creates winners and losers. In a democracy, these consequences need to be mitigated.

In any case, the world today is not the same as the one in which Cobden lived. Tariffs are at a historically low level – and many non-tariff barriers have also been removed. In other words, most of the possible gains from trade liberalization have already been realized. Johnson talked about the dangers of a new wave of protectionism. But as the economist Dani Rodrik has argued, the big problem in the global economy is no longer a lack of openness, it is a lack of democratic legitimacy.

The UK should therefore abandon this confusing and misleading narrative and own the way it is actually creating new barriers to trade – and do a better job of explaining the legitimate reasons for doing so. Instead of simplistically talking up free trade, we should be talking about the need to balance openness and economic efficiency with democracy and a sense of control, which is ultimately what Brexit was all about. Instead of claiming to be a ‘catalyst for free trade’, as Johnson put it, the UK should be talking about how it is trying to recalibrate globalization and, in doing so, make it sustainable.

In the three decades after the end of the Cold War, globalization got out of control as barriers to the movement of capital and goods were progressively removed – what Rodrik called ‘hyper-globalization’ to distinguish it from the earlier, more moderate phase of globalization. This kind of deep integration necessitated the development of a system of rules, which have constrained the ability of states to pursue the kind of economic policy, particularly industrial policy, they want, and therefore undermined democracy.

Hyper-globalization created a sense that ‘the nation state has fundamentally lost control of its destiny, surrendering to anonymous global forces’, as the economist Barry Eichengreen put it. Throughout the West, countries are all struggling with the same dilemma – how to reconcile openness and deep integration on the one hand, and democracy, sovereignty and a sense of control on the other.

Within the EU, however, economic integration and the abolition of barriers to the movement of capital and goods went further than in the rest of the world – and the evolution of the principle of freedom of movement after the Maastricht Treaty meant that barriers to the internal movement of people were also eliminated as the EU was enlarged. What happened within the EU might be thought of as ‘hyper-regionalization’ – an extreme example, in a regional context, of a global trend.

EU member states have lost control to an even greater extent than other nation states – albeit to anonymous regional rather than global forces – and this loss of control was felt intensely within the EU. It is therefore logical that this led to an increase in Euroscepticism. Whereas the left wants to restore some barriers to the movement of capital and goods, the right wants to restore barriers to the movement of people.

However, having left the EU, the UK is uniquely well placed to find a new equilibrium. The UK has an ideological commitment to free trade that goes back to the movement to abolish the Corn Laws in the 1840s – which Johnson’s speech expressed. It is difficult to imagine the UK becoming protectionist in any meaningful sense. But at the same time, it has a well-developed sense of national and popular sovereignty, and the sense that the two go together – which is why it was so sensitive to the erosion of them through the EU. This means that Britain is unlikely to go to one extreme or the other.

In other words, the UK may be the ideal country to find a new balance between openness and integration on the one hand, and a sense of control on the other. If it can find this balance – if it can make Brexit work – the UK could be a model for a wider recalibration of sustainable globalization. That, rather than fetishizing free trade, is the real contribution the UK can make.

A version of this article was originally published in the Observer.

Complex systems models have played a significant role in informing and shaping the public health measures adopted by governments in the context of the COVID-19 pandemic. For instance, modelling carried out by a team at Imperial College London is widely reported to have driven the approach in the UK from a strategy of mitigation to one of suppression.

Complex systems modelling will increasingly feed into policymaking by predicting a range of potential correlations, results and outcomes based on a set of parameters, assumptions, data and pre-defined interactions. It is already instrumental in developing risk mitigation and resilience measures to address and prepare for existential crises such as pandemics, prospects of a nuclear war, as well as climate change.

The human factor

In the end, model-driven approaches must stand up to the test of real-life data. Modelling for policymaking must take into account a number of caveats and limitations. Models are developed to help answer specific questions, and their predictions will depend on the hypotheses and definitions set by the modellers, which are subject to their individual and collective biases and assumptions. For instance, the models developed by Imperial College came with the caveated assumption that a policy of social distancing for people over 70 will have a 75 per cent compliance rate. This assumption is based on the modellers’ own perceptions of demographics and society, and may not reflect all societal factors that could impact this compliance rate in real life, such as gender, age, ethnicity, genetic diversity, economic stability, as well as access to food, supplies and healthcare. This is why modelling benefits from a cognitively diverse team who bring a wide range of knowledge and understanding to the early creation of a model.

The potential of artificial intelligence

Machine learning, or artificial intelligence (AI), has the potential to advance the capacity and accuracy of modelling techniques by identifying new patterns and interactions, and overcoming some of the limitations resulting from human assumptions and bias. Yet, increasing reliance on these techniques raises the issue of explainability. Policymakers need to be fully aware and understand the model, assumptions and input data behind any predictions and must be able to communicate this aspect of modelling in order to uphold democratic accountability and transparency in public decision-making.

In addition, models using machine learning techniques require extensive amounts of data, which must also be of high quality and as free from bias as possible to ensure accuracy and address the issues at stake. Although technology may be used in the process (i.e. automated extraction and processing of information with big data), data is ultimately created, collected, aggregated and analysed by and for human users. Datasets will reflect the individual and collective biases and assumptions of those creating, collecting, processing and analysing this data. Algorithmic bias is inevitable, and it is essential that policy- and decision-makers are fully aware of how reliable the systems are, as well as their potential social implications.

The age of distrust

Increasing use of emerging technologies for data- and evidence-based policymaking is taking place, paradoxically, in an era of growing mistrust towards expertise and experts, as infamously surmised by Michael Gove. Policymakers and subject-matter experts have faced increased public scrutiny of their findings and the resultant policies that they have been used to justify.

This distrust and scepticism within public discourse has only been fuelled by an ever-increasing availability of diffuse sources of information, not all of which are verifiable and robust. This has caused tension between experts, policymakers and public, which has led to conflicts and uncertainty over what data and predictions can be trusted, and to what degree. This dynamic is exacerbated when considering that certain individuals may purposefully misappropriate, or simply misinterpret, data to support their argument or policies. Politicians are presently considered the least trusted professionals by the UK public, highlighting the importance of better and more effective communication between the scientific community, policymakers and the populations affected by policy decisions.

Acknowledging limitations

While measures can and should be built in to improve the transparency and robustness of scientific models in order to counteract these common criticisms, it is important to acknowledge that there are limitations to the steps that can be taken. This is particularly the case when dealing with predictions of future events, which inherently involve degrees of uncertainty that cannot be fully accounted for by human or machine. As a result, if not carefully considered and communicated, the increased use of complex modelling in policymaking holds the potential to undermine and obfuscate the policymaking process, which may contribute towards significant mistakes being made, increased uncertainty, lack of trust in the models and in the political process and further disaffection of citizens.

The potential contribution of complexity modelling to the work of policymakers is undeniable. However, it is imperative to appreciate the inner workings and limitations of these models, such as the biases that underpin their functioning and the uncertainties that they will not be fully capable of accounting for, in spite of their immense power. They must be tested against the data, again and again, as new information becomes available or there is a risk of scientific models becoming embroiled in partisan politicization and potentially weaponized for political purposes. It is therefore important not to consider these models as oracles, but instead as one of many contributions to the process of policymaking.

The World Health Organization, US Department of Health and Human Services, and hospitals in Spain, France and the Czech Republic have all suffered cyberattacks during the ongoing COVID-19 crisis.

In the Czech Republic, a successful attack targeted a hospital with one of the country’s biggest COVID-19 testing laboratories, forcing its entire IT network to shut down, urgent surgical operations to be rescheduled, and patients to be moved to nearby hospitals. The attack also delayed dozens of COVID-19 test results and affected the hospital’s data transfer and storage, affecting the healthcare the hospital could provide.

In the UK, the National Health Service (NHS) is already in crisis mode, focused on providing beds and ventilators to respond to one of the largest peacetime threats ever faced. But supporting the health sector goes beyond increasing human resources and equipment capacity.

Health services ill-prepared

Cybersecurity support, both at organizational and individual level, is critical so health professionals can carry on saving lives, safely and securely. Yet this support is currently missing and the health services may be ill-prepared to deal with the aftermath of potential cyberattacks.

When the NHS was hit by the Wannacry ransomware attack in 2017 - one of the largest cyberattacks the UK has witnessed to date – it caused massive disruption, with at least 80 of the 236 trusts across England affected and thousands of appointments and operations cancelled. Fortunately, a ‘kill-switch’ activated by a cybersecurity researcher quickly brought it to a halt.

But the UK’s National Cyber Security Centre (NCSC), has been warning for some time against a cyber attack targeting national critical infrastructure sectors, including the health sector. A similar attack, known as category one (C1) attack, could cripple the UK with devastating consequences. It could happen and we should be prepared.

Although the NHS has taken measures since Wannacry to improve cybersecurity, its enormous IT networks, legacy equipment and the overlap between the operational and information technology (OT/IT) does mean mitigating current potential threats are beyond its ability.

And the threats have radically increased. More NHS staff with access to critical systems and patient health records are increasingly working remotely. The NHS has also extended its physical presence with new premises, such as the Nightingale hospital, potentially the largest temporary hospital in the world.

Radical change frequently means proper cybersecurity protocols are not put in place. Even existing cybersecurity processes had to be side-stepped because of the outbreak, such as the decision by NHS Digital to delay its annual cybersecurity audit until September. During this audit, health and care organizations submit data security and protection toolkits to regulators setting out their cybersecurity and cyber resilience levels.

The decision to delay was made to allow the NHS organizations to focus capacity on responding to COVID-19, but cybersecurity was highlighted as a high risk, and the importance of NHS and Social Care remaining resilient to cyberattacks was stressed.

The NHS is stretched to breaking point. Expecting it to be on top of its cybersecurity during these exceptionally challenging times is unrealistic, and could actually add to the existing risk.

Now is the time where new partnerships and support models should be emerging to support the NHS and help build its resilience. Now is the time where innovative public-private partnerships on cybersecurity should be formed.

Similar to the economic package from the UK chancellor and innovative thinking on ventilator production, the government should oversee a scheme calling on the large cybersecurity capacity within the private sector to step in and assist the NHS. This support can be delivered in many different ways, but it must be mobilized swiftly.

The NCSC for instance has led the formation of the Cyber Security Information Sharing Partnership (CiSP)— a joint industry and UK government initiative to exchange cyber threat information confidentially in real time with the aim of reducing the impact of cyberattacks on UK businesses.

CiSP comprises organizations vetted by NCSC which go through a membership process before being able to join. These members could conduct cybersecurity assessment and penetration testing for NHS organizations, retrospectively assisting in implementing key security controls which may have been overlooked.

They can also help by making sure NHS remote access systems are fully patched and advising on sensible security systems and approved solutions. They can identify critical OT and legacy systems and advise on their security.

The NCSC should continue working with the NHS to enhance provision of public comprehensive guidance on cyber defence and response to potential attack. This would show they are on top of the situation, projecting confidence and reassurance.

It is often said in every crisis lies an opportunity. This is an opportunity for the UK government to show agility in how it deals with cyber threats and how it cooperates with the private sector in creating cyber resilience.

It is an opportunity to lead a much-needed cultural change showing cybersecurity should never be an afterthought.

Both Russia and China have mounted combined charm offensives and disinformation campaigns on the back of the pandemic. Shipments of ‘aid’ – reportedly of questionable utility and quality - have gone hand in hand with a concerted effort to deflect any blame from China for the early spread, and an ongoing drive by Russia to undermine states’ confidence and have sanctions lifted.

These concurrent operations have very different objectives, as Russia seeks to subvert international order while China is continuing its bid to demonstrate global leadership - but in both cases, they are seeking long-term gains by exploiting the inattention and distraction of their targets.

Both seek to present themselves as globally responsible stakeholders, but for divergent reasons – especially China which needs the rest of the world to recover and return to stability to ensure its own economic recovery. But despite this, the two campaigns appear superficially similar.

Fertile ground for disinformation

One reason lies in the unique nature of the current crisis. Unlike political issues that are local or regional in nature, COVID-19 affects everybody worldwide. The perceived lack of reliable information about the virus provides fertile ground for information and disinformation campaigns, especially feeding on fear, uncertainty and doubt. But Russia in particular would not be succeeding in its objectives without mis-steps and inattention by Western governments.

Confused reporting on Russia sending medical supplies to the United States showed Moscow taking advantage of a US administration in apparent disarray. Claims Russia was sending ’humanitarian aid’ were only belatedly countered by the US State Department pointing out it had been paid for. Meanwhile the earlier arrival of Russian military equipment in Italy also scored a propaganda victory for Russia, facilitated by curious passivity by the Italian government.

In both cases Russia also achieved secondary objectives. With the United States, Russia scored bonus points by shipping equipment produced by a subsidiary of a company under US sanctions. In the case of Italy, Russian state media made good use of misleading or heavily edited video clips to give the impression of widespread Italian acclaim for Russian aid, combined with disdain for the efforts of the EU.

Beijing’s external information campaigns have sought to deflect or defuse criticism of its early mishandling and misinformation on coronavirus and counter accusations of secrecy and falsifying data while also pursuing an opportunity to exercise soft power. For Moscow, current efforts boost a long-standing and intensive campaign to induce the lifting of sanctions, demonstrating if nothing else that sanctions are indeed an effective measure. Official and unofficial lobbying has intensified in numerous capital cities, and will inevitably find supporters.

But both the aid and the information campaigns are seriously flawed. While appropriate and useful aid for countries that are struggling should of course be welcomed, both Russian and Chinese equipment delivered to Europe has repeatedly been found to be inappropriate or defective. 

Russian photographs of cardboard boxes stacked loose and unsecured in a transport aircraft bound for the United States sparked alarm and disbelief among military and aviation experts - and there has still been no US statement on what exactly was purchased, and whether it was found to be fit for purpose when it arrived.

Reporting from Italy that the Russian equipment delivered there was ‘80% useless’ has not been contradicted by the Italian authorities. In fact, although the Italian sources criticizing Russia remain anonymous it is striking that - President Trump aside - no government has publicly endorsed materials and assistance received from Russia as actually being useful and helpful.

Even in Serbia, with its traditionally close ties with Russia, the only information forthcoming on the activities of the Russian Nuclear, Biological and Chemical Protection Troops and their equipment that arrived on April 3 was from Russian press releases.

Both countries’ strategic communications efforts are similarly fallible. China’s notoriously heavy-handed approach to its critics is of only limited use in the face of such a severe and immediate threat. One suggestion that the virus originated in the US – an early response to US criticism – has already been walked back by the Chinese diplomat who made it.

And Russia continues to be capable of spectacularly misjudging its targets. When investigative journalists looked more closely at the nature of the assistance to Italy, Russia’s official response was rage and personal threats, laying bare the real nature of the campaign and immediately alienating many of those whom Moscow had sought to win over.

Errors and deficiencies such as these provide opportunities to mitigate the worst side-effects of the campaigns. And actions by individuals can also mitigate much of the impact. The most effective disinformation plays on deeply emotional issues and triggers visceral rather than rational reactions.

Advocates of ’informational distancing’ as well as social distancing suggest a tactical pause to assess information calmly, instead of reacting or spreading it further unthinkingly. This approach would bolster not only calm dispassionate assessment of the real impact of Russian and Chinese actions, but also counter spreading of misinformation on the pandemic as a whole - especially when key sources of disinformation are national leaders seeking to politicize or profit from the crisis.

Limitations of Russian and Chinese altruism must be stated clearly and frankly to fill gaps in public understanding. Where help is genuine, it should of course be welcomed: but if it is the case that assistance received from Moscow or Beijing is not appropriate, not useful, or not fit for purpose, this should be acknowledged publicly.

Even without central direction or coordination with other Russian strategic communications efforts, the self-perpetuating Russian disinformation ecosystem continues to push narratives designed to undermine confidence in institutions and their ability to deal with the crisis. This too must continue to be monitored closely and countered where it matters.

In all cases, miscalculations by Russia or China that expose the true intent of their campaigns – no matter how different their objectives might be - should be watched for closely and highlighted where they occur.

Despite the enormity of the present emergency it is not a time for any government to relax its vigilance over longer-term threats. States must not lose sight of manoeuvres seeking to exploit weakness and distraction. If Russia and China emerge from the current crisis with enhanced authority and unjustifiably restored reputations, this will make it still harder to resist their respective challenges to the current rules-based international order in the future.

Since the World Health Organisation (WHO) declared COVID-19 a pandemic, few countries have chosen to ignore social distancing recommendations. But, even among those states which have, the Belarusian official response to its epidemic remains unique.

President Aliaksandr Lukashenka’s statements that vodka, sauna and tractors are protecting Belarusians from coronavirus attracted amused attention in international media. Lukashenka also described other societies’ response to COVID-19 as ‘a massive psychosis’.

Although Lukashenka is notorious for his awkward style of public communication, the fact that Belarus is refusing to impose comprehensive confinement measures is of concern. Belarusians continue to work, play football and socialise.

Lukashenka, himself playing ice hockey in front of state cameras, claims it is the best way to stay healthy. Belarusian authorities clearly appear to be in denial – and this could have dire humanitarian consequences.

From denial to half measures

Belarus actually has one of the largest numbers of hospital beds in the world per 1,000 of the population. But in the absence of quarantine measures its health system, already crippled by corruption and embezzlement, is likely to be overwhelmed.

Patients being treated for pneumonia in hospitals have suggested medical staff are uninformed and inadequately equipped. It is claimed doctors are not reporting COVID-19 as the suspected cause of death, either through a lack of testing or for fear of reprisals.

Observers believe the real mortality rate is already well above official figures (40 deaths as of 16 April). Based on an Imperial College London model, between 15,000 and 32,000 people could die under the current mild confinement regime – and such a high death toll would hugely impact the country’s political stability. Citing personal data protection, the Ministry of Health has imposed a total news blackout; the only cluster officially acknowledged so far is the city of Vitsebsk.

Although specific Belarusian cities and some individuals started changing their approach – by extending school vacations or cancelling weddings – such measures remain half-hearted.

Clearly a major reason for such an apparently irresponsible reaction is that Belarus cannot afford a massive lockdown that would freeze its already underdeveloped economy and drive it deeper into recession. Unlike many other nations, Belarus lacks budgetary resources for a sizable stimulus package. But a delayed response might backfire on the economy.

Economic recession has been forecast to amount to at least 10% of GDP. For Lukashenka, who openly challenged conventional wisdom regarding the need for quarantine and isolation, such an economic downturn would harm his confidence rating in the eyes of Belarusian voters, mindful of the state’s mismanagement of the crisis. And it could create doubt within the ruling elite itself, with Lukashenka seeking re-election for a sixth mandate in late August.

Against this backdrop, a radicalization of the opposition-minded part of society is also to be expected, with greater reliance on social networks in the face of official secrecy and disinformation. The expected response of the regime is then likely to be pre-emptive repression. Evidence is emerging that law enforcement agencies have already stepped up judicial and paralegal harassment of dissenters, notably independent journalists and bloggers.

Russia’s initial reluctance to address the coronavirus crisis may also have influenced Belarus. Lukashenka and his administration often react to public health challenges by the Soviet rulebook, reminiscent of the Soviet authorities’ mismanagement of the Chernobyl disaster in 1986.

Russia has unilaterally closed its borders with Belarus and, as bilateral relations continue to deteriorate, this casts further doubt on the viability of the Union State of Belarus and Russia. Pro-Russian media forecast Moscow will be unwilling to alleviate the expected socio-economic crisis, as it continues to reject Minsk’s demands regarding subsidised oil deliveries. Yet the Kremlin might use the crisis as an opportunity to resume its integrationist pressure on Belarus.

China, with which Belarus engaged in a seemingly privileged strategic partnership in the 2010s, was actually the first country to dispatch humanitarian aid to beef up Belarusian capacity to fight the virus.

But Minsk should not expect Beijing to rescue its economy and, unless it commits to more internal reforms, Belarus is not likely to receive much from the EU either. The regime has already applied to the IMF for emergency financial support, but conditions are attached and, even if successful, the funds would amount to no more than $900m.

The government’s decision to take only half measures so far is rooted in the hope COVID-19 is not as bad as foreign experts fear. But, unless the leadership acknowledges the public health crisis and mitigates its economic impact, COVID-19 will accelerate Belarus’s slide back into international self-isolation. If combined with a humanitarian crisis, this will put the Belarusian regime under considerable stress.

This crisis does risk a new ‘Chernobyl moment’ for the authorities, but the population could react more vocally this time. As volunteers self-organise to fight the epidemic, it might become more difficult for the authorities to say that it is efficient in running the country. But the bottom line is Belarus desperately needs money. Whoever steps up to support Belarus financially will also be able to heavily influence its politics.

Donald Trump is impulsive. His sudden decision to stop funding the World Health Organization (WHO) just days after calling it 'very China-centric” and 'wrong about a lot of things' is the latest example. And this in the midst of the worst pandemic since Spanish flu in 1918 and a looming economic crisis compared by some to the 1930s. 

But the decision is not really just about what WHO might or might not have done wrong. It is more about the ongoing geopolitical wrangle between the US and China, and about diverting attention from US failings in its own response to coronavirus in the run-up to the US presidential election.

It clearly also derives from Trump’s deep antipathy to almost any multilateral organization. WHO has been chosen as the fall guy in this political maelstrom in a way that might please Trump’s supporters who will have read or heard little about WHO’s role in tackling this crisis. And the decision has been widely condemned in almost all other countries and by many in the US.

What is it likely to mean in practice for WHO?

Calling a halt to funding for an unspecified time is an unsatisfactory halfway house. A so-called factsheet put out by the White House talks about the reforms it thinks necessary 'before the organization can be trusted again'. 

This rather implies that the US wants to remain a member of WHO if it can achieve the changes it wants. Whether those changes are feasible is another question — they include holding member states accountable for accurate data-sharing and countering what is referred to as 'China’s outsize influence on the organization'. Trump said the funding halt would last while WHO’s mismanagement of the coronavirus pandemic was investigated, which would take 60-90 days. 

The US is the single largest funder of WHO, providing about 16% of its budget. It provides funds to WHO in two ways. The first is the assessed contribution — the subscription each country pays to be a member. In 2018/19 the US contribution should have been $237 million but, as of January this year it was in arrears by about $200 million.

Much bigger are US voluntary contributions provided to WHO for specified activities amounting in the same period to another $650 million. These are for a wide variety of projects — more than one-quarter goes to polio eradication, but a significant portion also is for WHO’s emergency work. 

The US assessed contribution represents only 4% of WHO’s budget. Losing that would certainly be a blow to WHO but a manageable one. Given the arrears situation it is not certain that the US would have paid any of this in the next three months in any case. 

More serious would be losing the US voluntary contributions which account for about another 12% of WHO’s budget—but whether this could be halted all at once is very unclear. First Congress allocates funds in the US, not the president, raising questions about how a halt could be engineered domestically.

Secondly, US contributions to WHO come from about ten different US government agencies, such as the National Institutes of Health or USAID, each of whom have separate agreements with WHO. Will they be prepared to cut funding for ongoing projects with WHO? And does the US want to disrupt ongoing programmes such as polio eradication and, indeed, emergency response which contribute to saving lives? 

Given the president’s ability to do 180 degree U-turns we shall have to wait and see what will actually happen in the medium term. If it presages the US leaving WHO, this would only facilitate growing Chinese influence in the WHO and other UN bodies. Perhaps in the end wiser advice will be heeded and a viable solution found.

Most of President Trump’s criticisms of WHO do not bear close scrutiny. WHO may have made mistakes — it may have given too much credence to information coming from the Chinese. China has just announced that the death toll in Wuhan was 50% higher than previously revealed. It may have overpraised China’s performance and system, but this was part of a deliberate strategy to secure China’s active collaboration so that it could help other countries learn from China’s experience. 

The chief message from this sorry story is that two countries are using WHO as a pawn in pursuing their respective political agendas which encompass issues well beyond the pandemic. China has been very successful in gaining WHO’s seal of approval, in spite of concerns about events prior to it declaring the problem to the WHO and the world. This, in turn, has invited retaliation from the US. 

When this is over will be the time to learn lessons about what WHO should have done better. But China, the US, and the global community of nations also need to consider their own responsibility in contributing to this terrible unfolding tragedy.

This article was originally published in the British Medical Journal 

African policymakers face a dilemma when it comes to COVID-19. The first hope is to prevent the virus from gaining a foothold at all, and many African states have significant experience of managing infectious disease outbreaks. The establishment of the Africa Centre for Disease Control highlights the hugely increased focus on public health in recent years.

But capacities to track, test and isolate vary wildly, notably between neighbours with porous and poorly controlled borders and, in most cases, sustained national-level disease control is difficult. Initial clusters of COVID-19 cases are already established in many places, but a lack of testing capacity makes it hard to know the full extent of transmission.

It is not obvious what African states should do as a response. Lack of information about COVID-19 means the proportion of asymptomatic or mild cases is not known, still less the ways in which this is influenced by human geography and demographics.

Africa is an overwhelmingly young continent with a median age under 20. But it also faces chronic malnutrition, which may weaken immune responses, and infectious diseases such as malaria, TB and HIV are widespread which could worsen the impact of COVID-19, particularly if treatment for these diseases is interrupted.

Complex and unknown

Ultimately, how all these factors interact with COVID-19 is complex and remains largely unknown. Africa may escape with a relatively light toll. Or it could be hit harder than anywhere else.

What is clear, however, is that cost of simply following the rest of the world into lockdown could be high. Africa is relatively rural but has higher populations living in informal settlements than anywhere in the world. Many live in cramped and overcrowded accommodation without clean water or reliable electricity, making handwashing a challenge and working from home impossible.

And the benefits appear limited. The goal of lockdowns in most places is not to eliminate the virus but to accept the economic and social costs as a price worth paying in order to ‘flatten the curve’ of infection and protect healthcare systems from being overwhelmed. But this logic does not hold when many of Africa’s healthcare systems are barely coping with pre-coronavirus levels of disease.

Africa suffers in comparison to much of the rest of the world in terms of access to quality and affordable healthcare, critical care beds and specialist personnel. For example, in 2017, Nigeria had just 120 ICU beds for a country of 200 million, equating to 0.07 per 100,000 inhabitants compared to 12.5 per 100,000 in Italy and 3.6 per 100,000 in China.

The pandemic’s ruinous economic impacts could also be more acute for Africa than anywhere else. The continent is highly vulnerable to potential drops in output and relies heavily on demand from China and Europe. Many states are already facing sharply falling natural resource revenues, and investment, tourism and remittances will suffer - all on top of a high existing debt burden.

Analysis by the World Bank shows that Africa will likely face its first recession in 25 years, with the continental economy contracting by up to 5.1% in 2020. Africa will have scant financial ammunition to use in the fight against COVID-19 with currencies weakening, food prices rising, local agri-food supply chains disrupted and food imports likely to decrease as well. A food security emergency appears a strong possibility.

So, although several states have imposed national lockdowns and others closed major urban centres, lockdowns are difficult to manage and sustain, especially in places where the daily hustle of the informal sector or subsistence agriculture are the only means of survival and where the state has neither the trust of the population nor the capacity to replace lost earnings or meet basic needs.

Of course, this is not simply a binary choice between lockdown or no lockdown - a range of intermediate options exist, such as some restriction on movement, curfews, shutting places of worship, banning only large gatherings, or closing pubs, schools and borders.

A significant number of African states have so far taken this middle path. This will not prevent the virus from spreading nor, in all probability, be enough to ensure adequate healthcare for all Africans infected with COVID-19. But it may help slow the spread and buy invaluable time for African states and partners to prepare.

How this time is used is therefore of paramount importance. Popular trust in the state is low in many African countries so strategies must empower communities, not alienate them. Africa’s experience of previous epidemics and long traditions of collective resilience and community-based crisis response - which persist in many places – are significant strengths.

The right messages must be carried by the right messengers, and policies - including cash transfers and food distribution - implemented sensitively. If not, or if responses become militarized, public consent is unlikely to be sustained for long.

The recognition by Ukraine of the jurisdiction of the International Criminal Court (ICC) to consider grave crimes allegedly perpetrated in its territory has led to the ICC Prosecutor’s preliminary examination identifying a wave of alleged war crimes and crimes against humanity.

There are claims of persecution, forced conscription, deportation, sham trials, enforced disappearances, and property seizure - in Crimea. As well as killings, torture, inhuman treatment, sexual violence, and indiscriminate shelling - in Donbas. The court now needs to decide whether to open a full investigation which could lead to charges against specific individuals, as in the trial currently taking place in the Netherlands over MH-17.

However, the ICC does remain a court of last resort as Ukraine retains the principal power to prosecute grave violations perpetrated in its eastern regions and Crimea, with the court only stepping in if Ukraine (or another court with jurisdiction) is either unwilling or unable to do so.

As the evidence mounts up, Ukrainian investigators, prosecutors and judges are becoming more open to cooperation with foreign experts, law firms, human rights NGOs and younger domestic professionals - a significant proportion of whom are women.

Transformation shows determination

This is an unusual shift, given the rigid hierarchical nature of post-Soviet institutions, with elderly males in most of the top positions. The transformation shows the determination to see perpetrators of crimes in Crimea and Donbas tried by the ICC, with joint professional development trainings and joint communications about the alleged crimes.

Ukraine has also been strengthening its institutions. The Prosecutor’s Office of the Autonomous Republic of Crimea has been improving quality control of its war crime proceedings, and has taken a strong pro-ICC stance. The Office of the Prosecutor General established a special department to monitor the armed conflict proceedings, and two specialised war crime units have been formed in Donbas.

Although too early to assess progress - given recent prosecution reform and that much-needed legislation on international crimes is still pending – these are promising signs of Ukraine’s intent to take a specialised approach to armed conflict violations. And Ukrainian civil society organisations are also playing a more important role, documenting alleged crimes and sending evidence to the ICC.

Any intervention by the ICC in Ukraine also has a considerable impact on the wider dynamics of addressing international crimes, further extending the court’s reach beyond a focus on Africa which has attracted widespread criticism since it began in 2002.

The ICC has already opened investigations in Georgia, Bangladesh/Myanmar, and Afghanistan, with preliminary examinations in Colombia, Venezuela, Iraq/UK, Palestine, and The Philippines. But the Ukrainian case would further develop the European subtleties of the court’s jurisprudence.

Although the ICC is currently investigating the 2008 Russia-Georgia war, the active phase of that armed conflict lasted for just five days whereas Russia’s military involvement in Ukraine has been ongoing for the six years. The temporal difference in no way diminishes the suffering of victims and the necessity for the proper investigation, prosecution and compensation in the Georgian context.

And yet, going by even the preliminary findings of the ICC prosecutor, the spectrum of war crimes and crimes against humanity allegedly perpetrated in Ukraine is much wider. Some incidents, such as the illegal construction of the Crimean Bridge, is an amalgam of the violations against property, cultural heritage and the environment. Cumulatively, the Ukrainian and Georgian cases would substantially contribute to the development of the court’s emerging European lenses.

The Russia-Ukraine armed conflict is also the first instance of armed hostilities of such magnitude and duration in Europe since World War II and the Yugoslav Wars. The ICC’s readiness to take on such geopolitically challenging cases which leave itself open to attack will be tested.

But by examining new contexts - including Ukraine - the ICC would develop a more layered reading of the nature and scope of the crimes it works on. For example, alleged indoctrination and use of children by armed groups in eastern Ukraine is likely to differ from the known practices of abducting and recruiting child soldiers in Africa.

Investigating evidence of Russia’s persecution of pro-Ukrainian activists - forcing them out of Crimea - coupled with the creation of favourable conditions for Russian citizens to relocate to Crimea could lead to proving the existence of a policy of mass colonisation of the peninsula - adding new layers to the court’s jurisprudence on population displacement. And previously under-prosecuted crimes may come to the fore, such as attacks on cultural property or causing the destruction of the environment.

Although the ICC proceedings on Ukraine – along with those being held by the International Court of Justice (ICJ) - are unlikely to bring immediate results, Ukraine has developed an international adjudication strategy based on the available viable options and what can be practically delivered.

The simple act of a reputed international court outlining Russia’s alleged violations in Crimea and Donbas and naming those individually responsible would be an impactful achievement in itself, regardless of whether Russia pays any attention or compensation.

And any international judgments or those of domestic courts such as the Dutch MH-17 proceedings and Russia’s response - predicted to be non-compliance - is an important argument for continuing sanctions against Russia over its conduct in Ukraine.

The mutually reinforcing effect of both the Crimea and Donbas proceedings within Ukraine and at international courts should not be underestimated. These investigations into war crimes, terrorism and human rights issues are deeply relevant - not only for the conflict itself, but also for the development of international law.

Part One of this series assesses Ukraine’s efforts to hold Russia accountable as a state at the International Court of Justice (ICJ).

Despite face-to-face diplomatic meetings being increasingly rare during the current disruption, COVID-19 will ultimately force a redefinition of national security and defence spending priorities, and this could provide the possibility of an improved political climate at RevCon when it happens in 2021.

With US presidential elections due in November and a gradual engagement growing between the EU and Iran, there could be a new context for more cooperation between states by 2021. Two key areas of focus over the coming months will be the arms control talks between the United States and Russia, and Iran’s compliance with the 2015 Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action (JCPOA), also known as the Iran Nuclear Deal.

It is too early to discern the medium- and longer-term consequences of COVID-19 for defence ministries, but a greater focus on societal resilience and reinvigorating economic productivity will likely undercut the rationale for expensive nuclear modernization.

Therefore, extending the current New START (Strategic Arms Reduction Treaty) would be the best, most practical option to give both Russia and the United States time to explore more ambitious multilateral arms control measures, while allowing their current focus to remain on the pandemic and economic relief.

Continuing distrust

But with the current treaty — which limits nuclear warheads, missiles, bombers, and launchers — due to expire in February 2021, the continuing distrust between the United States and Russia makes this extension hard to achieve, and a follow-on treaty even less likely.

Prospects for future bilateral negotiations are hindered by President Donald Trump’s vision for a trilateral arms control initiative involving both China and Russia. But China opposes this on the grounds that its nuclear arsenal is far smaller than that of the two others.

While there appears to be agreement that the nuclear arsenals of China, France, and the UK (the NPT nuclear-weapons states) and those of the states outside the treaty (India, Pakistan, North Korea, and Israel) will all have to be taken into account going forward, a practical mechanism for doing so proves elusive.

If Joe Biden wins the US presidency he seems likely to pursue an extension of the New START treaty and could also prevent a withdrawal from the Open Skies treaty, the latest arms control agreement targeted by the Trump administration.

Under a Biden administration, the United States would also probably re-join the JCPOA, provided Tehran returned to strict compliance with the deal. Biden could even use the team that negotiated the Iran deal to advance the goal of denuclearization of the Korean peninsula.

For an NPT regime already confronted by a series of longstanding divergences, it is essential that Iran remains a signatory especially as tensions between Iran and the United States have escalated recently — due to the Qassim Suleimani assassination and the recent claim by Iran’s Revolutionary Guard Corps to have successfully placed the country’s first military satellite into orbit.

This announcement raised red flags among experts about whether Iran is developing intercontinental ballistic missiles due to the dual-use nature of space technology. The satellite launch — deeply troubling for Iran’s neighbours and the EU countries — may strengthen the US argument that it is a cover for the development of ballistic missiles capable of delivering nuclear weapons.

However, as with many other countries, Iran is struggling with a severe coronavirus crisis and will be pouring its scientific expertise and funds into that rather than other efforts — including the nuclear programme.

Those European countries supporting the trading mechanism INSTEX (Instrument in Support of Trade Exchanges) for sending humanitarian goods into Iran could use this crisis to encourage Iran to remain in compliance with the JCPOA and its NPT obligations.

France, Germany and the UK (the E3) have already successfully concluded the first transaction, which was to facilitate the export of medical goods from Europe to Iran. But the recent Iranian escalatory steps will most certainly place a strain on the preservation of this arrangement.

COVID-19 might have delayed Iran’s next breach of the 2015 nuclear agreement but Tehran will inevitably seek to strengthen its hand before any potential negotiations with the United States after the presidential elections.

As frosty US-Iranian relations — exacerbated by the coronavirus pandemic — prevent diplomatic negotiations, this constructive engagement between the E3 and Iran might prove instrumental in reviving the JCPOA and ensuring Iran stays committed to both nuclear non-proliferation and disarmament.

While countries focus their efforts on tackling the coronavirus pandemic, it is understandable resources may be limited for other global challenges, such as the increasing risk of nuclear weapons use across several regions.

But the potential ramifications of the COVID-19 crisis for the NPT regime are profound. Ongoing tensions between the nuclear-armed states must not be ignored while the world’s focus is elsewhere, and the nuclear community should continue to work together to progress nuclear non-proliferation and disarmament, building bridges of cooperation and trust that can long outlast the pandemic.

It is becoming widely accepted that we have transitioned, or are now transitioning, from an international liberal order to a different reality. Whether that reality is different solely in terms of power dynamics, or also in terms of values and institutions, is up for discussion. The growing body of literature on ‘post-liberalism’ is used as an entry-point for this article, which aims to explore how the post-liberal transition applies to cyberspace. We explore how power dynamics are evolving in cyberspace, as well as how established norms, values and institutions are contested. The article then looks at the emergence of cyber diplomacy as a consequence and response to the post-liberal transition. As it will be argued, if cyberspace was a creation of the liberal order, cyber-diplomacy is a post-liberal world practice. What role it plays in shaping a new order or building bridges between different political visions, and what it means for the future of cyberspace, will constitute key points of discussion.

The liberal international order (LIO) is in crisis. Numerous publications, debates and events have time and again made it clear that we are in the midst of a grand transformation of world order. While most contributions focus on either what is slowly dying (the LIO) or what might come next (China, multipolarity, chaos?), there is less analytical engagement with what lies in between those two phases of world order. Under the assumption that this period could last years or even decades, a set of analytical tools to understand this interregnum is urgently needed. This article proposes an analytical framework that builds on Gramscian concepts of crisis that will help us understand the current crisis of the LIO in a more systematic way. It addresses a gap in the literature on changing world order by elaborating three Gramsci-inspired crisis characteristics—processuality, organicity and morbidity—that sketch the current crisis landscape in a systematic way. Building on this framework, the article suggests different empirical entry points to the study of the crisis of the LIO and calls for a research agenda that takes this crisis seriously as a distinct period of changing world orders.

Belarus rarely appears in the Western media, and when it does, the story usually does not go beyond the old trope of ‘Europe’s last dictatorship’. Since Russia’s annexation of Crimea, Western views on Belarus have diverged. For some it is an oasis of stability in a fractured region, while for others, it is a country in jeopardy and soon to become the Kremlin’s next target. Some applaud progress within the Belarusian political system and society while others see only stagnation.

This expert roundtable, to be held soon after the Belarusian local parliamentary elections, aims to disentangle these contradictory views by highlighting the key political trends to watch in Belarus.

Attendance at this event is by invitation only. 

Belarus’s parliamentary elections, held on 17 November, were predictably non-transparent, with numerous violations. The regime of Alexander Lukasheka allowed no opposition candidates as members of parliament – in contrast to the previous parliament, in which there were two opposition MPs. While this might seem to be a return to ‘business as usual’, three key takeaways from the elections highlight a shifting political and social landscape.

1. Lukashenka is appeasing his ruling cadre by promising to increase their role in the political system.

With several influential officials becoming new MPs, it is more likely that parliament will be more involved in any forthcoming discussion of a new constitution. Lukashenka has been promising constitutional reform for several years; he has said publicly that it will lead to an increased significance of government agencies as well as parliament. The aim of this is to keep them more engaged and on Lukashenka’s side.

In terms of the composition of the new parliament itself, there are some key differences with previous years. It is no longer a comfortable place for officials to while away their pre-retirement: many MPs are now in their fifties or younger, and have plans for careers beyond parliament.

It also looks as if small steps are being taken towards the emergence of a party system in Belarus. The leader of Belaya Rus, a pro-government association of Belarusian officials, got a seat in parliament for the first time, increasing the likelihood of it becoming a political party. The number of MPs from different parties has increased to 21 (out of 110 in total). Although these still all broadly support Lukashenka, they can differ from the president in policy positions. For example, the Labour and Justice Party, with 6 seats in parliament, supported the annexation of Crimea in 2014. Change, of course, may not necessarily be in a pro-Western direction.

Moreover, the newly elected members of parliament look more like real politicians. They go to debates, speak to independent journalists and have their own social media channels. Some have even felt able to criticize the actions of the authorities.

Similar changes have been taking place in other institutions in Belarus. The government is now more competent than it has ever been. The National Bank has managed to carry out macroeconomic stabilization on one of the most unstable currencies in Europe, while the ministries responsible for the economic development have implemented certain small-scale reforms. The Minister of the Interior has even acknowledged mistakes made by his department (under his predecessor), and undertaken to make improvements.

This has resulted in a near-comical situation, whereby the Belarusian non-state media outlets have an increasingly positive view of some state officials, such as Prime Minister Siarhei Rumas, while the state media has been scaling back its coverage of him to ensure he does not become too popular.

2. Belarus has less need for the West and is reluctant to make even small concessions.

Since the slight warming of Belarusian relations with the West in 2014, Lukashenka has been having more meetings with prominent Western officials. Western institutions began trying to cooperate more closely with Belarus, but soon saw that it was not very interested. In 2018, the European Bank of Reconstruction and Development allocated €360 million to Belarus. However, it is now considering a reduction, as reforms in Belarus have not, in its view, gone far enough. The European Union has also committed considerable time and money to regional authorities, but this has not brought any significant changes to Belarusian local government.

The absence of opposition candidates also demonstrates that the Belarusian authorities are prepared for a new deterioration of relations with the West. The authorities could certainly have afforded some opposition in parliament, especially since they themselves choose whom to appoint. Given that they did not, they either do not consider worsened relations a problem or are confident that the West will continue to cooperate with Belarus in order to limit Russian power, regardless of its violations of the rule of law.

3. There is growing popular dissatisfaction with the current regime, but the state has no good plan for how to deal with it.

Parliamentary election campaigns in Belarus are traditionally low-key, but this year they were particularly muted. The authorities tried to ensure that people knew as little about the election as possible. Campaign posters appeared on the streets just two weeks before polling day. It seems the authorities were reluctant to politicize society, as further resentment at autocratic rule is brewing.

Many Belarusians who previously supported Lukashenka now have a very critical opinion of him. Take political blogging: the most popular political blogger in Belarus is a 22-year-old man who goes by the name of NEXTA. He produces low-quality videos which are highly critical of the authorities. A film by him about Lukashenka, released a month ago, has already received 1.8 million views, even though there are only 9.5 million people in Belarus.

The authorities are not in a concessionary mood. The presidential elections in 2020 will also likely be a sham. If the authorities’ grip over the country is weakened, they will fear an outbreak of anger, resulting in widespread protests which the regime might once again have to meet with violence.

In the three years since Shavkat Mirziyoyev was elected president of Uzbekistan, he has embarked on a wide-ranging reform process including currency liberalization, eliminating forced labour and abolishing exit visas. This has encouraged foreign investors and the population, but a rare protest last week over natural gas and electricity shortages shows that the Uzbek population’s faith in change under the new leadership could be wearing thin, while foreign direct investment that adds real value to the economy is in short supply.

When Mirziyoyev came to power, Uzbekistan was on the verge of bankruptcy. A former prime minister of 13 years, and a pragmatic economist, the new president set on a rapid course to open Uzbekistan up to its neighbours and remove barriers to trade and foreign investment. The alacrity and ambition of the reform process and the monetary and economic liberalization has at times been overwhelming for lawyers and businesses. 

However, allowing the free movement of capital, people and goods are natural moves to boost an economy after 20 years of stasis. The country is now immersed in the more challenging and substantive phase of development, including privatization, the breakup of monopolies and capital markets reform. 

Despite a marked increase in foreign direct investment, the country is not receiving the investment it needs. Much of it comes from Russia or China through bilateral arrangements, with debt from China washing through state-owned banks and state-owned enterprises. Uzbekistan’s debt to China has increased three times since the end of 2016.

Meanwhile, European and US companies still appear unsure about the business environment and the staying power of reforms. A lack of consistent policy, alongside hastily drafted decrees and legislation that often require presidential decrees to clarify their meaning as well, as opaque carve outs, are further deterring Western investors. A workforce that is still in transition from a Soviet to a free market approach exacerbates the situation.

Opposition within the government to implementation of some of the reforms, as well as competing government interests, have led to backtracking on some reforms (such as free and unrestricted currency convertibility) and creeping protectionism in some sectors. Some reforms simply get lost in the long chain from presidential decree to implementation. After 2018, import tariffs were abolished but recently, a list of protected domestically produced products has been drawn up raising concerns that vested interests are replacing state monopolies with private ones.

Despite progress on the economic front, political and social reform has lagged. Uzbekistan is still largely run by senior cadres from the previous administration of Islam Karimov. While the government has attracted younger reformers, often returning from abroad, it has also been rehabilitating key figures from the Karimov years that were implicated in corruption scandals. Progressive senior officials, such as the former general prosecutor Otabek Murodov, have been removed with little explanation as to why; trials take place behind closed doors.

The new leadership has transformed the media environment, but the country still lacks objective analytical reporting. Direct criticism of the president or the ruling family remains taboo. Economic and monetary liberalization has come at a cost to the population in the form of double-digit inflation, while utility prices are moving to the level of the free market. Popular discontent is growing at the grass roots level and some hark back to the stability of the former government, in spite of its reputation for appalling human rights treatment.

Small and innovative steps have been taken to improve the rule of law, but more can be done, including introducing transparency over judicial processes and ensuring regional authorities have less impunity before the law. An initiative to address the issue of conflict of interest – whereby mayors, senators and other senior civil servants have been able to benefit commercially from their positions during an era of government economic stimulus – would signal a commitment to fundamental reform.

With great promises of political and economic reform, the government has set a high bar for itself. A continuing paternalistic form of governance, with its restricted civil society freedoms, human rights, stifling bureaucracy and corruption, against continuing lack of opportunities, will clash with the expectations of a growing young population.

Mirziyoyev is trying to make the parliamentary elections on 22 December, the first during his presidency, more dynamic. Yet no opposition parties have been able to emerge to serve as a check on the executive branch. A product of the system he ostensibly wishes to reform, Mirziyoyev will need to prioritize the strengthening of independent institutions to deliver results to his expectant people.