Deciphering The History Of Morocco: Continuity, Rupture, And The Making Of A North African Civilization – Analysis

May 30, 2026 

By Dr. Mohamed Chtatou

Abstract

This essay offers a comprehensive historiographical examination of Morocco from prehistoric settlement to the post-independence era. Drawing on archaeological evidence, medieval Arabic chronicles, colonial archives, and contemporary scholarship, the essay traces Morocco’s development as a distinct political and cultural entity at the intersection of Amazigh, Arab, African, Andalusian, and European civilizations. Particular attention is paid to the founding and succession of dynastic states—Idrisid, Almoravid, Almohad, Marinid, Saadian, and Alaoui—as well as to the processes by which Moroccan society negotiated Islamic identity, imperial ambition, and colonial penetration. The analysis situates Morocco within broader global and regional frameworks while foregrounding the agency of indigenous populations. The essay concludes by assessing Morocco’s post-1956 trajectory and the historiographical debates that continue to animate scholarly enquiry.

1. Introduction: The Challenge of Moroccan Historiography

Morocco occupies a singular position in global historical consciousness: it is at once the westernmost extension of the Arab world, the heartland of Amazigh (Berber) civilization, a conduit of trans-Saharan commerce, and a society shaped by successive waves of Andalusian, sub-Saharan African, and European influence without losing a recognizable core identity (Laroui, 1977). Yet precisely because of this complexity, Moroccan history has long resisted easy narration. Colonial-era scholars, most prominently those operating within the intellectual framework of the French Protectorate (1912–1956), produced accounts that systematically undervalued indigenous agency, projected racial and civilizational hierarchies onto the historical record, and privileged rupture over continuity (Burke, 1972). Postcolonial historians, Moroccan nationalists, and Anglophone social scientists have collectively worked to dismantle these distortions, though the field remains marked by productive methodological tensions.

This essay undertakes a synthetic reading of Moroccan history from the earliest documented human settlement through the consolidation of the post-independence state. It does not claim exhaustiveness but aims instead for analytical density: to identify the structural forces, key transitions, and recurring themes that give Moroccan history its distinctive shape. Following the influential framework proposed by Laroui (1977), the essay treats Moroccan history not as a series of discrete episodes but as a long-run dialectic between centripetal forces—Islamic universalism, makhzen authority, and urban scholarly culture—and centrifugal pressures—tribal autonomy, regional particularism, and external conquest. This dialectic, it will be argued, is the master key to deciphering Morocco’s past and anticipating its future.

2. Prehistoric and Protohistoric Morocco: The Amazigh Substratum

Any serious account of Moroccan history must begin not with the Arab conquest of the seventh century CE, as colonial historiography frequently implied, but with the Paleolithic populations whose material culture has been recovered from sites across the Maghreb. Fossil evidence from the Jebel Irhoud site in western Morocco, dramatically reanalyzed by Hublin et al. (2017), places anatomically modern Homo sapiens in this region approximately 300,000 years ago, predating previously accepted chronologies by a substantial margin and positioning Morocco as one of the probable zones of human cognitive emergence. This discovery carries profound implications for the self-understanding of the region’s indigenous inhabitants, the Imazighen (singular: Amazigh), whose ancestors populated North Africa long before the first historical civilizations of the Mediterranean littoral established themselves.


By the first millennium BCE, Berber-speaking populations had established complex agropastoral societies across the Maghreb, engaging in trade with Phoenician colonies on the northern Moroccan coast—most notably Lixus (near present-day Larache) and Tingis (Tangier). These contacts introduced literacy, coinage, and Mediterranean commodity networks but did not fundamentally alter the Berber social structure organized around lineage groups, transhumant pastoralism, and confederal political authority (Camps, 1987). The Mauretanian kingdoms that emerged in the last centuries BCE—particularly that of Juba II (c. 25 BCE–23 CE), a Romanized client king whose court at Caesarea blended Hellenistic, Roman, and Berber cultural elements—demonstrated the capacity of Amazigh elites to selectively appropriate external cultural frameworks while maintaining indigenous political forms (Roller, 2003). Rome’s incorporation of Mauretania Tingitana as a province in 40 CE extended imperial administration into northern Morocco but never achieved effective penetration of the mountainous interior, a pattern of partial external control that would recur throughout Moroccan history.

The Amazigh substratum is not merely an archaeological or prehistoric phenomenon; it is a continuous living presence in Moroccan history. Tamazight languages—Tachelhit in the Anti-Atlas and Souss, Central Atlas Tamazight, and Tarifit in the Rif—remained spoken by substantial majorities of the Moroccan population throughout the Islamic period and into the twenty-first century. The cultural practices, customary law (izerf), and social organization associated with Amazigh communities shaped the texture of Moroccan life in ways that Arabic chronicles systematically obscured (Gellner, 1969; Hammoudi, 1997). Acknowledging this substratum is therefore not an act of romantic primordialism but a historiographical corrective essential to any accurate account of what Morocco is and how it came to be.

3. The Arab Conquest and the Islamization of Morocco (647–788 CE)

The Arab Muslim conquest of North Africa, launched from Egypt in the mid-seventh century, reached the Moroccan interior only after decades of fierce Berber resistance. ʿUqba ibn Nafiʿ’s celebrated raid to the Atlantic shore (c. 682 CE) was less a conquest than an extended razzia; effective Islamic administration in Morocco was not established until the campaigns of Musa ibn Nusayr in the first decade of the eighth century (Brett & Fentress, 1996). The resistance of the Berber warrior leader known in Arabic sources as al-Kahina—whose identification, historicity, and significance remain subjects of scholarly debate—has become a potent symbol of Amazigh agency against Arab imperialism, though contemporary historians caution against reading modern nationalist categories into early medieval social conflicts (Modéran, 2003).

The process of Islamization was gradual, uneven, and deeply conditioned by Berber social structures. Islam spread not primarily through military coercion but through the activities of traveling scholars, Sufi orders (turuq), and the prestige associated with Arabic literacy and Islamic law. Crucially, the Kharijite movement—a puritanical Islamic tendency emphasizing the equality of all Muslims regardless of ethnic origin—found enormous resonance among Berber populations resentful of Arab fiscal exploitation and social condescension (Savage, 1997). The Kharijite revolts of 739–743 CE were among the most serious challenges ever faced by the Umayyad caliphate and effectively ended Arab imperial control over the Maghreb, opening the political space in which the first distinctly Moroccan Islamic dynasty would emerge.


That dynasty was the Idrisid, founded by Idris ibn Abdallah, a descendant of the Prophet Muhammad who fled the Abbasid massacre of Alid partisans and found refuge among the Berber Awraba confederation of northern Morocco in 789 CE (Terrasse, 1949–1950). His son Idris II (r. 804–828 CE) founded the city of Fez, which would become the intellectual and spiritual capital of Morocco for twelve subsequent centuries. The Idrisid state was politically fragile—fragmenting rapidly after Idris II’s death among competing princely lines—but its symbolic legacy was immense: it established the template of a Morocco governed by a sharif (descendant of the Prophet) who derived legitimacy simultaneously from Islamic genealogy, Berber tribal alliance, and urban scholarly endorsement. This tripartite legitimation formula would underpin Moroccan political culture down to the present day (Waterbury, 1970).

4. The Berber Imperial Dynasties: Almoravids, Almohads, and Marinids (1040–1465)

The eleventh century inaugurated what many historians regard as Morocco’s most consequential contribution to world history: the rise of the Almoravid and Almohad movements, which projected Moroccan power across the entire western Mediterranean world. The Almoravid (al-Murabitun) movement originated among the Sanhaja Berbers of the western Sahara, inspired by the reformist teaching of Abdallah ibn Yasin, who had studied with the Maliki jurists of Kairouan and returned determined to impose orthodox Islamic practice on the lax religious environment of the Saharan confederation (Messier, 2010). The movement combined military discipline, puritan religious reform, and shrewd political organization: by the 1060s the Almoravids had conquered Morocco and founded Marrakech (1070) as their imperial capital; by 1086 they had crossed into the Iberian Peninsula in response to appeals from Andalusian Muslim rulers threatened by the Christian Reconquista, decisively defeating Alfonso VI of Castile at the Battle of Sagrajas (Bosch Vilá, 1956).


The Almoravid empire at its height encompassed Morocco, western Algeria, much of West Africa, and al-Andalus, making it one of the largest Islamic states of its era. Yet it proved institutionally fragile. The second generation of rulers, acculturated to the luxury of Andalusian court life, lost the austere reforming energy of the founders, and the movement was ultimately overthrown by an even more radical reformation emerging from the High Atlas Mountains: the Almohad (al-Muwahhidun) movement, founded by Ibn Tumart, an Amazigh scholar from the Masmuda confederation who had studied in the Islamic East and returned convinced that the Almoravids had lapsed into anthropomorphism and juridical rigidity (Fierro, 2011). The Almohad caliphate (1121–1269) represents the apogee of medieval Moroccan imperial power, reuniting the Almoravid domains under Abd al-Mumin and his successors and briefly controlling the entire Maghreb.

The cultural achievement of the Almohad courts of Marrakech and Seville was equally remarkable. These courts patronized Ibn Rushd (Averroes), whose Aristotelian commentaries shaped the entire trajectory of European scholasticism; Ibn Tufayl, the philosopher-novelist; and Maimonides, the Jewish theologian born in Cordoba, whose intellectual formation occurred in part within Almohad cultural orbit (Urvoy, 1991). This efflorescence—the product of precisely the multi-civilizational confluence that characterizes Moroccan history—has sometimes been overshadowed by scholarly emphasis on Almohad religious intolerance, but it represents a genuine intellectual achievement of world-historical significance. The Almohad collapse, precipitated by military defeats in Iberia (Las Navas de Tolosa, 1212) and by internal tribal rebellions, eventually produced the Marinid dynasty (1244–1465), another Berber confederation that established its capital at Fez, rebuilt the great madrasas of that city, and struggled perpetually to maintain control of al-Andalus and fend off internal challenges (Shatzmiller, 1976).

5. Sharifi Dynasties and the Consolidation of the Moroccan State (1465–1664)

The decline of the Marinids inaugurated a prolonged political crisis in which religious legitimacy increasingly displaced genealogical Berber identity as the primary currency of political authority. The Wattasid regents who displaced the Marinids lacked effective control over the countryside, and their inability to resist Portuguese expansion along the Atlantic littoral—Ceuta fell in 1415, Arzila and Tangier in 1471—created a legitimacy crisis that sharifi religious movements were well positioned to exploit (Cour, 1920). The Saadian dynasty (1509–1659), originating in the Draa Valley of southern Morocco and claiming Prophetic descent, built its power on a combination of religious prestige, anti-Portuguese jihad, and control of the trans-Saharan gold and salt trade.

The Saadian victory at the Battle of the Three Kings (Wadi al-Makhazin, 1578)—in which the Portuguese king Sebastian I, a Moroccan pretender backed by Portugal, and the reigning Saadian sultan Abd al-Malik all perished—became one of the most celebrated military episodes in Moroccan national memory and definitively ended Portuguese ambitions of territorial conquest in Morocco (Bovill, 1958). The subsequent reign of Ahmad al-Mansur (1578–1603) marked the summit of Saadian power: his conquest of the Songhai Empire in 1591, deploying a Moroccan army across the Sahara to seize the Niger Bend, projected Moroccan influence deep into sub-Saharan Africa and temporarily monopolized the gold trade that had for centuries underpinned North African commercial prosperity (Hunwick, 1999).


The Alaoui dynasty, which traces its lineage to the Prophet through the Hasanid line and has governed Morocco continuously from the mid-seventeenth century to the present, emerged from the chaos of Saadian collapse. The founder Moulay al-Rashid (r. 1664–1672), and especially his successor Moulay Ismail (r. 1672–1727), reconstructed the Moroccan state on foundations of extraordinary durability: a professional army composed largely of sub-Saharan African soldiers (abid al-Bukhari), a network of royal residences and garrisons across the country, and a sophisticated manipulation of religious symbolism that made the sultan simultaneously Commander of the Faithful, protector of Islamic scholars, and cosmic mediator between the divine and the Moroccan community (Ennaji, 1999; Laroui, 1977). The Alaoui state thus institutionalized the legitimation formula first articulated by the Idrisids—Islamic genealogy, tribal alliance, and scholarly endorsement—in a durable administrative form.

6. Morocco in the Age of European Imperialism (1800–1912)

The nineteenth century subjected the Moroccan state to pressures of a qualitatively different order from anything previously experienced. The expansion of European industrial capitalism, backed by overwhelming military force, systematically dismantled the political and economic autonomy of non-European polities across the globe. Morocco’s experience of this process was mediated by its geostrategic position—its Atlantic and Mediterranean coastlines made it a focal point of European imperial rivalry—and by the relative sophistication of its diplomatic class, which skillfully played European powers against one another for several decades before the logic of informal and then formal empire became irresistible (Burke, 1976).


The French conquest of Algeria (1830) immediately transformed Morocco’s strategic situation, creating a land frontier with a European imperial power and generating a flow of Algerian refugees—most notably the resistance leader Abd al-Qadir—that repeatedly dragged Morocco into conflict with France. The Battle of Isly (1844), in which a French force routed a Moroccan army that had been supporting Algerian resistance, demonstrated the disparity of military capability and forced Morocco into a humiliating treaty (Julien, 1964). The simultaneous Spanish bombardment and occupation of Tetouan during the First Moroccan-Spanish War (1859–1860) compounded this lesson in strategic vulnerability, as did the growing penetration of the Moroccan economy by European commercial interests backed by extraterritorial legal privileges.

The Moroccan sultans of the second half of the nineteenth century—Muhammad IV, Hassan I, and Abd al-Aziz—pursued contradictory strategies of reform and resistance. Hassan I (r. 1873–1894) undertook the most sustained modernization effort of the pre-Protectorate era, reorganizing the army on European lines, reforming the tax system, and dispatching diplomatic and military missions to Europe, but his reforms were consistently undermined by fiscal exhaustion produced by the indemnities and commercial concessions extracted by European creditors (Burke, 1976). The Algeciras Conference of 1906, at which the major European powers effectively decided Morocco’s fate without Moroccan participation, crystallized the structural logic of colonial partition: Morocco was too weak to defend its sovereignty, too wealthy and strategically positioned to be left independent (Andrew & Kanya-Forstner, 1981).

The Treaty of Fez (1912), by which Sultan Abd al-Hafid accepted French and Spanish protectorates over Morocco, formally ended Moroccan sovereignty. It did not, however, end Moroccan resistance. The rural insurrection of Ahmad al-Hiba briefly seized Marrakech in August 1912 before being suppressed by French forces under Hubert Lyautey. More sustained resistance came from the Rif and Atlas Mountains, where Amazigh tribal confederations mounted military campaigns that taxed colonial resources for decades. The Republic of the Rif, established by Muhammad ibn Abd al-Karim al-Khattabi (1921–1926), was the most remarkable of these formations: a proto-state with its own constitution, diplomatic apparatus, and military force that inflicted a catastrophic defeat on the Spanish Army of Africa at Annual (1921) before being suppressed by a combined Franco-Spanish force employing chemical weapons (Woolman, 1968; Pennell, 2000).

7. The French Protectorate: Colonial Transformation and Nationalist Response (1912–1956)

The French Protectorate in Morocco is conventionally divided between the architectonic phase associated with Resident-General Lyautey (1912–1925) and the subsequent period of more conventional colonial exploitation. Lyautey’s ideology of respectful domination (politique des égards) involved preserving the formal apparatus of the Moroccan sultanate, maintaining the medinas as living urban heritage, and governing through existing social hierarchies—a strategy that differed rhetorically, if not always practically, from the assimilationist model pursued in Algeria (Rivet, 1996). The physical separation of colonial villes nouvelles from preexisting medinas—visible today in Fez, Marrakech, Casablanca, and Rabat—embodied this philosophy in stone and brick while simultaneously revealing its underlying spatial logic of racial segregation.


Economically, the Protectorate transformed Morocco in ways that were profound and largely asymmetrical. The construction of modern infrastructure—railways, ports, roads, telegraph networks—integrated Morocco into the circuits of the world economy primarily as an exporter of phosphates (discovered at Khouribga in 1920 and developed into the world’s largest known reserve), agricultural products, and labor. The colonization of agricultural land by European settlers dispossessed thousands of rural families and contributed to the explosive growth of Casablanca, which expanded from a small coastal town of approximately 20,000 inhabitants in 1907 to a metropolis of over 600,000 by 1952 (Adam, 1968). This urbanization created the social conditions—literate young men displaced from rural communities, exposed to egalitarian ideologies through both Islamic reformism and secular nationalism—in which the independence movement would be forged.

The Istiqlal (Independence) Party, founded in 1943, articulated a nationalism that fused Islamic modernism, Arabism, and constitutional liberalism. Its founding manifesto simultaneously presented to the Allies, Sultan Muhammad V, and the French authorities demanded Moroccan independence under the sultan’s leadership. The French decision to depose and exile Sultan Muhammad V to Madagascar in August 1953 galvanized Moroccan public opinion in ways the colonial administration had catastrophically failed to anticipate (Halstead, 1967). The sultan’s exile transformed him from a cautious constitutional monarch into a symbol of national resistance, fusing religious, dynastic, and nationalist legitimacies into a single powerful identity. His return in November 1955 and Morocco’s formal independence on March 2, 1956 represented the triumph of this fusion and set the terms of the political settlement that would govern independent Morocco for generations.

8. Independent Morocco: Authoritarianism, Reform, and Contested Liberalization (1956–Present)

The trajectory of independent Morocco under Muhammad V (r. 1956–1961) and Hassan II (r. 1961–1999) was shaped by three fundamental tensions: between monarchical authority and pluralist political aspiration; between Islamic identity and secular modernization; and between national sovereignty and continued economic dependency on former colonial powers. Hassan II, who possessed formidable political intelligence and ruthless pragmatism, navigated these tensions through constitutional manipulation, selective repression, and strategic deployment of religious symbolism. The so-called Years of Lead (années de plomb)—the period from the late 1960s through the 1980s during which political opponents, leftists, Islamists, and Amazigh activists were imprisoned, tortured, and disappeared—represent the most serious indictment of the Alaoui monarchy’s postcolonial record (Slyomovics, 2005; Amnesty International, 1991).

The same period nonetheless witnessed substantial economic development, the consolidation of national institutions, and Morocco’s contested claim to the Western Sahara following the Green March of November 1975—a masterstroke of political theater in which Hassan II led 350,000 unarmed Moroccan civilians across the border into the Spanish-controlled territory (Hodges, 1983). The Western Sahara conflict, which pitted Morocco against the Polisario Front backed by Algeria, remains unresolved and constitutes the most consequential open question in contemporary Moroccan geopolitics, with the United Nations peace process deadlocked and tens of thousands of Sahrawi refugees still living in camps near Tindouf, Algeria (Shelley, 2004).


The accession of King Muhammad VI in 1999 inaugurated a carefully managed political liberalization. The Equity and Reconciliation Commission (Instance Équité et Réconciliation, IER), established in 2004, investigated past human rights abuses, acknowledged state responsibility, and awarded compensation to thousands of victims—an unprecedented exercise in transitional justice for the Arab world, though critics noted its circumspect treatment of individual accountability (Slyomovics, 2005; Human Rights Watch, 2005). The Mudawwana reform of 2004, which substantially expanded women’s rights within the family code, and the constitutionalization of Tamazight as an official language in 2011 represented significant departures from the ethnic and gender hierarchies of previous reigns.

The Arab Spring of 2011 tested Morocco’s model of managed liberalization under democratic pressure. Nationwide protests organized by the February 20 Movement demanded deeper structural reform; the king responded with constitutional amendments—ratified by referendum in July 2011—that formally reduced royal prerogatives, strengthened the prime minister’s powers, and recognized Morocco’s plural cultural identity. Scholars remain divided on the significance of these reforms: optimists point to Morocco’s relative political stability by comparison with post-2011 Egypt, Libya, and Syria; critics argue that the fundamental architecture of royal predominance remained intact and that reforms were designed to co-opt rather than genuinely transform (Maghraoui, 2011; Kausch, 2015). The question of whether managed liberalization can deliver sustainable democratic governance remains one of the defining challenges of contemporary Moroccan politics.

9. Thematic Synthesis: Interpreting the Longue Durée

Several overarching themes emerge from this survey that merit explicit analytical attention. First is the durability of Morocco’s political institutions by comparison with other postcolonial states. The Alaoui monarchy has governed continuously since the seventeenth century, survived the colonial period with its legitimacy enhanced rather than destroyed, and navigated postcolonial transitions without the coups, civil wars, or state collapse that have destabilized many comparable polities. Scholars have explained this institutional resilience variously in terms of the sultan’s religious authority as Commander of the Faithful, the patrimonial character of the Moroccan state in which distinctions between royal patrimony and public treasury were systematically blurred (Waterbury, 1970), and the political acuity of individual Alaoui rulers (Hammoudi, 1997).

A second theme is the persistent tension between urban-literate Islamic orthodoxy and rural-tribal customary practice—a tension that Gellner (1969) famously theorized in terms of high and low Islam but that subsequent anthropological research has considerably complicated by demonstrating the fluidity and contextual character of these categories in practice (Eickelman, 1976; Combs-Schilling, 1989). The periodic renewal movements that have animated Moroccan religious life—from Almoravid puritanism to twentieth-century Salafi modernism—can be read as attempts to resolve this tension by projecting urban scholarly standards into the countryside, but these attempts have repeatedly encountered the resilience of Sufi brotherhoods, saint veneration (maraboutism), and local customary law as competing sources of religious authority.


A third theme is Morocco’s distinctive relationship with the African continent south of the Sahara. Colonial and postcolonial scholarship has frequently treated Morocco as part of a Mediterranean or Middle Eastern cultural zone, implicitly detaching it from sub-Saharan Africa. Recent historiography has forcefully challenged this assumption by emphasizing the trans-Saharan commercial networks, slave trades, and cultural exchanges that connected Morocco to Mali, Songhai, Hausaland, and the Saharan oasis communities for over a millennium (McDougall & Scheele, 2012; Lydon, 2009). The substantial Haratin and sub-Saharan African communities within Morocco, the Arabic-language manuscript tradition of Timbuktu, and Morocco’s active twenty-first-century diplomacy toward sub-Saharan Africa are all legacies of this deep continental entanglement.

Finally, the question of Amazigh identity and its relationship to Moroccan national identity demands sustained attention. The decades-long suppression of Tamazight language and culture under the pressures of Arab nationalist ideology, and the more recent official embrace of Amazigh heritage—embodied in the creation of the Royal Institute of Amazigh Culture (IRCAM) and the 2011 constitutional provision making Tamazight an official language—represent a fundamental shift in official Moroccan self-understanding. Whether this shift represents genuine pluralistic recognition or a strategic de-radicalization of Amazigh political claims remains contested (Maddy-Weitzman, 2011). What is certain is that any account of Moroccan history treating the Amazigh dimension as a pre-Islamic prologue rather than a continuous and central thread is fundamentally incomplete.

10. Conclusion

Morocco’s history cannot be deciphered through any single interpretive framework. It is neither a simple story of Islamic civilization nor a narrative of Berber resistance, neither a tale of colonial victimhood nor a celebration of unbroken dynastic continuity. It is, rather, a history of complex entanglement: between the sedentary and the nomadic, the literate and the oral, the orthodox and the mystical, the cosmopolitan and the local, the imperial and the tribal. The historians who have illuminated this complexity most powerfully—from Ibn Khaldun, whose theory of the cyclical dynamics of tribal power and urban civilization was derived in large part from his observation of Maghrebi history, to Laroui (1977), Burke (1976), and the current generation of Moroccan and international scholars—have been those willing to hold multiple analytical frames in simultaneous tension.

Morocco in the twenty-first century faces challenges that are continuous with the longue durée of its history: the governance of ethnic and regional diversity, the negotiation of Islamic tradition and liberal modernity, the management of economic inequality in a society undergoing rapid urbanization, and the assertion of sovereignty in a global order still structured by post-colonial asymmetries of power and knowledge production. The history traced in this essay is not merely background context for these challenges; it is constitutive of them. To decipher Morocco’s history is to illuminate the choices and constraints that face one of the world’s most historically layered and consequential societies—and to appreciate that those choices remain genuinely open.


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From Consumer To Co-Developer: Japan’s Bet On GCAP – Analysis

May 30, 2026 
Observer Research Foundation
By Pratnashree Basu

The Global Combat Air Programme (GCAP) marks one of the most consequential defence-industrial and strategic partnerships Japan has entered into since the end of the Second World War. Bringing together Japan, the United Kingdom, and Italy to jointly develop a sixth-generation combat aircraft by 2035, GCAP is more than a fighter jet programme. It reflects Japan’s evolving strategic outlook, its growing willingness to engage in high-end defence industrial cooperation beyond the United States alliance framework, and the broader emergence of trans-regional security linkages between the Indo-Pacific and Euro-Atlantic theatres.

GCAP represents both strategic necessity and political transformation for Tokyo, with its decision to mergeits indigenous F-X fighter programme with the United Kingdom’s Tempest initiative in 2022. While the US-Japan alliance remains the bedrock of Japanese security policy, Tokyo increasingly recognises the value of operational flexibility, technological diversification, and defence-industrial resilience. Unlike the F-35 programme, where the United States retains significant control over upgrades, software access, and technology transfer, GCAP is explicitly structured around sovereign capability. Japan, Italy, and the United Kingdom have emphasised equality in decision-making, industrial participation, and technological access. This is a particularly significant departure for Japan, whose post-war defence procurement model was historically characterised by dependence on licensed production arrangements with the United States and constraints that limited the development of indigenous innovation.

The strategic rationale behind GCAP is also closely tied to Japan’s changing regional threat perceptions and uncertainty surrounding long-term American defence-industrial reliability. China’s increasing military assertiveness in the East China Sea, regular incursions near the Senkaku Islands, and rapid advances in fifth- and sixth-generation aerospace technologies have compelled Tokyo to prioritise air superiority and long-range strike capabilities. Simultaneously, North Korea’s missile advancements and Russia’s continued military activities around Japan’s northern periphery reinforce the need for next-generation integrated combat systems rather than standalone fighter platforms.


Notably, GCAP is not merely about producing an aircraft. It is envisioned as a system of systems that combines crewed and uncrewed platforms, enhanced sensors, data fusion, electronic warfare capabilities, AI-enabled battle management, and network-centric operations across several domains. This reflects the growing centrality of information dominance in modern warfare. Japan’s participation, therefore, enhances its access to cutting-edge technologies in areas such as stealth engineering, advanced propulsion, sensor fusion, and collaborative combat aircraft systems.

The collaboration with the UK is very significant for Japan. Through reciprocal access agreements, defence exercises, cyber cooperation, and maritime deployments, Japan-UK security relations have improved significantly over the last ten years. This strategic convergence is institutionalised by GCAP. Indeed, Japanese officials have increasingly been framing Indo-Pacific and Euro-Atlantic security as interrelated theatres, especially in light of the strategic collaboration between China and Russia. In 2025, Tokyo noted that UK-Japan defence ties had reached an “unprecedented” level, with GCAP functioning as a central pillar of this relationship.

Italy’s role within GCAP is equally important, though often underappreciated in Indo-Pacific discussions. Rome brings substantial aerospace expertise through Leonardo and its long experience in multinational combat aircraft projects. More importantly, Italy acts as a bridge between Indo-Pacific geopolitical priorities and European defence-industrial ecosystems. Japan’s collaboration with Italy, in turn, extends its European defence partnerships beyond conventional political diplomacy.


Institutionally, GCAP has evolved rapidly over the past two years. In 2025, the three countries operationalised the GCAP International Government Organisation (GIGO) and launched Edgewing, the joint industrial venture bringing together BAE Systems, Leonardo, and the Japan Aircraft Industrial Enhancement Company. The creation of a unified headquarters in Reading, United Kingdom, was an important step in simplifying programme governance and industrial cooperation. In April 2026, the first joint international contract worth £686 million was awarded to Edgewing, focusing on design and engineering and marking the first time the programme moved away from separate national contracts toward a unified multinational framework.

Yet, despite its strategic promise, GCAP faces substantial challenges. Timelines for the programme remain rather ambitious. Delivering a sixth-generation platform by 2035 requires three nations with different strategic cultures and procurement systems to synchronise complex technological development cycles, industrial coordination, political consensus, and budgetary commitments. Moreover, cost escalation is already becoming a major concern. Italy recently approved approximately EUR 8.8 billion in funding for the programme through 2037, while revised estimates suggest significantly higher long-term expenditures than initially anticipated.

For Tokyo in particular, an emerging concern is whether domestic political and industrial expectations can remain aligned with the programme’s pace. Japanese stakeholders view 2035 as a hard deadline for replacing the country’s ageing F-2 fighter fleet. By contrast, the United Kingdom and Italy possess somewhat greater flexibility due to their Eurofighter Typhoon inventories. With growing Japanese frustration over delays linked to uncertainties in the British defence budget, a temporary stopgap arrangement was recently signed to prevent disruption to ongoing work while London finalises its long-term defence investment plan. Nonetheless, London is reportedly preparing to approve a long-term funding package for GCAP, in a move aimed at stabilising the programme after months of Japanese concerns.

These tensions highlight a broader structural issue within multinational defence projects: the difficulty of balancing industrial sovereignty with programme efficiency. GCAP’s promise of equal partnership is politically attractive, particularly for Japan, but equal governance can also complicate decision-making. Divergent strategic priorities, budgetary cycles, and export policies could create friction over time.


Membership expansion is another important question. Germany has apparently featured in talks about future participation, while Saudi Arabia has been mentioned as a possible participant on several occasions. Italy, in particular, appears open to broadening participation to offset rising programme costs and expand export markets. However, Japan remains cautious. Tokyo’s hesitancy reflects concerns over technology security, export sensitivities, and the possibility that additional partners could delay timelines or dilute Japanese influence within the programme.

Indeed, one of GCAP’s most strategically significant dimensions is Japan’s gradual reinterpretation of its defence export and industrial policies. Tokyo’s post-war restrictions on arms exports long constrained its ability to participate meaningfully in multinational defence production networks. Recent policy revisions have relaxed some of these constraints, enabling Japan to envision GCAP not only as a procurement initiative but also as a platform for defence-industrial competitiveness. The programme’s success could fundamentally reshape Japan’s role in the global defence market.

The trajectory of GCAP will shape not only the future of combat aviation but also the credibility of trans-regional strategic partnerships in the coming decades. For Japan, the programme represents a test of whether it can transition from a constrained security consumer into a co-developer of next-generation military power. The stakes, therefore, extend far beyond aerospace technology.About the author: Pratnashree Basu is an Associate Fellow at the Observer Research Foundation.
Source: This article was published by the Observer Research Foundation.

SPACE/COSMOS

Have We Been Missing Signs Of Extraterrestrial Life? Researchers Warn Of ‘False Negatives’ In The Search For Biosignatures In Space

Artist’s impression of cryovolcanism on Enceladus, an icy moon of Saturn. Image Credit: ESA/Science Office

June 1, 2026 
By Eurasia Review


How likely is it that signs of extraterrestrial life are already out there, but we have simply not yet been able to detect them? An international research team has taken on this question in a study recently published in the scientific journal Nature Astronomy. The researchers analyzed the phenomenon of “false negatives,” cases in which evidence of biological activity in space is overlooked or incorrectly interpreted. Researchers from Freie Universität Berlin were involved in the study alongside other experts in the fields of planetary sciences and astrobiology.

The authors investigate the strategies currently used to search for extraterrestrial life, warning that they might have been too limited in scope. Space missions and tools have been designed to detect specific biosignatures that are already known. This means that – in contrast to the risk of detecting “false positives” – the risk of overlooking traces of life has rarely been taken into account in a systematic manner. The researchers advocate for a combination of new research strategies, laboratory experiments, models, fieldwork, and AI-based pattern recognition to make up for these shortcomings.
Why Do Traces of Life Sometimes Go Undetected?

“The search for extraterrestrial life is one of the major scientific questions of our time. However, we have to make sure that we do not orient our tools and methods too much toward what we already know,” says planetary scientist Dr. Nozair Khawaja from Freie Universität Berlin. “Otherwise we could end up missing forms of biological activity that are unusual or difficult to detect.”

The study “False Negatives in the Search for Extraterrestrial Life” proposes several reasons for potential misinterpretations of biosignatures. Chemical or geological processes may conceal indications of life, or traces of biological activity may be present but could remain undetected due to unsuitable measurement methods. “A simple way of illustrating this issue would be that if there were life under the surface of a celestial body, and you only looked at it from above, then these subterranean life forms could go unnoticed,” explains Professor Frank Postberg.


The researchers do not consider this issue to be a solely scientific problem. “A failure to identify signs of life could have grave political and economic consequences, for example, if the exploitation of raw materials on planets were to get the go-ahead without first verifying whether life forms exist there,” says Professor Lena Noack.

The study was led by Inge Loes ten Kate, professor of astrobiology at Utrecht University and the University of Amsterdam. Planetary scientists from Freie Universität Berlin also made significant contributions to the paper. Khawaja and Postberg explored whether potential traces of life remain hidden under the thick ice crusts on icy moons, as their subsurface oceans could be home to simple life forms. This research could be instrumental in developing concepts for future European Space Agency (ESA) missions to Enceladus, the sixth-largest moon of Saturn. Noack investigated abiotic baselines and models of scenarios for habitable planetary atmospheres. She also addressed the question of how typical biosignatures may change, be concealed, or otherwise be fundamentally different in other atmospheric environments, which could potentially result in false-negative results in the search for extraterrestrial life.

Study Explains Why The Most Massive Galaxies In The Early Universe Stopped Forming Stars Prematurely

May 30, 2026 
By Eurasia Review


Astronomical observations show that the most massive galaxies in the early Universe formed approximately 3 to 4 billion years after the Big Bang and stopped producing stars very early in cosmic history, around 1 billion years after their formation. This strange behavior has puzzled experts in the field. For comparison, our galaxy, the Milky Way, is as old as the Universe itself and continues to produce stars, albeit at a low rate, even 13.5 billion years after its formation.

A study conducted at the Institute of Astronomy, Geophysics, and Atmospheric Sciences at the University of São Paulo (IAG-USP) in Brazil, in collaboration with international partners and published in the journal Astronomy & Astrophysics, proposes a consistent solution to this problem.

“We focused on two seemingly distinct populations: dusty star-forming galaxies [DSFGs] and massive quiescent galaxies [MQs],” says Laerte Sodré Júnior, a retired full professor, former director of IAG-USP, and doctoral advisor to the lead author of the study, Pablo Araya-Araya.

DSFGs are extremely active, forming stars at rates of up to 500 solar masses per year. For comparison, the Milky Way forms approximately one solar mass per year. Enveloped in dense dust clouds, DSFGs are practically invisible in the optical range (the portion of the electromagnetic spectrum with wavelengths from 380 to 780 nanometers). However, they shine brightly in submillimeter (0.2 to 1 millimeter) and mid-infrared (4.9 to 28.8 microns) wavelengths. For this reason, thousands of DSFGs have been detected by the Atacama Large Millimeter/Submillimeter Array (ALMA) radio telescopes, which operate in the millimeter-submillimeter range. Some of their spatial structures and stellar compositions have been characterized by the James Webb Space Telescope, which operates in the infrared.


MQs pose a significant challenge to galaxy formation models, Sodré explains. “They formed and stopped producing stars rapidly within the first few billion years of the history of the Universe,” he says.

To investigate the connection between the two populations, the researchers used a semi-analytical model of galaxy formation and tracked their evolutionary trajectories at redshifts of 2 to 4 – that is, when the universe was about 3 to 4 billion years old. Redshifts are shifts in electromagnetic radiation toward longer wavelengths resulting from the expansion of the Universe.

The results show that 86% to 96% of MQs previously went through a phase as DSFGs. In other words, virtually all of these inert galaxies had an extremely active past. However, not all DSFGs follow this path.

The study proposes that each progenitor galaxy of an MQ underwent an early and violent merger with a galaxy of similar mass. This catastrophic event triggered two simultaneous processes: an extreme burst of star formation and rapid growth of a supermassive black hole in the central region. “The merger of the two galaxies concentrated large amounts of gas in the core, simultaneously triggering an extreme burst of star formation and intense feeding of the supermassive black hole,” Sodré summarizes.

“In that process, the cold gas is rapidly consumed while the energy released by the active nucleus heats the surrounding halo gas and prevents it from cooling and being reincorporated into the galaxy, blocking the supply of raw material for new stars and halting star formation in less than one billion years,” the scientist explains.

In contrast, most star- and dust-forming galaxies grow more gradually through long-term processes. Significant mergers only occur at later stages, resulting in slower gas consumption and eventual late extinction of star formation, which is observed at lower redshifts.

Recent operations of the James Webb Space Telescope have helped map DSFGs. At the same time, they revealed a greater-than-expected number of massive, quiescent galaxies in the early Universe.

The proposed model has not yet fully resolved the problem, as there are still discrepancies between predictions and observations. “We’re observing far more galaxies with submillimeter emissions than we predicted,” Sodré admits.

Nevertheless, the study provides a coherent framework for explaining the evolution of DSFGs into MQs based on galaxy mergers, bursts of star formation, and the formation of supermassive black holes. Progress in this area will depend on more refined theoretical models, more realistic numerical simulations, and new observations. Instruments such as the Giant Magellan Telescope (GMT), which is under construction at the Las Campanas Observatory in Chile’s Atacama Desert under one of the driest and most stable skies on the planet, are expected to play a crucial role in this process.

“With its 24.5-meter primary mirror, the GMT will be able to produce images three to four times more detailed than the James Webb,” Sodré emphasizes. The GMT is expected to be operational by the middle of the next decade.

Mexico Strengthens Security Measures Ahead Of World Cup

File photo of police officers in Mexico City. Photo Credit: Ralf Roletschek, Wikipedia Commons

June 1, 2026 
By The Watch

Mexico has deployed more than 100,000 security officers and has tightened security at high-profile tourist sites for the upcoming World Cup soccer tournament. The moves accelerated in April 2026 after an isolated mass shooting unrelated to cartel violence prompted authorities to speed up additional security measures ahead of the global event.

The quadrennial sports tournament will take place in Canada, Mexico and the United States beginning in June. The three partner nations have closely collaborated on joint security measures in preparation for a nearly six-week tournament expected to draw millions of visitors to North America. In March 2026 congressional testimony, Gen. Gregory M. Guillot, commander of the U.S. Northern Command (USNORTHCOM) and the North American Aerospace Defense Command, told the Senate Armed Services Committee that he was confident the games would proceed without incident. “This summer, the strong military relationships among the U.S., Canada, and Mexico will be on full display as our forces work together to ensure a safe World Cup,” Guillot said. “The USNORTHCOM relationship with Mexican military partners stands strong and pays lasting dividends for the security of both the United States and Mexico. USNORTHCOM maintains its longstanding relationships with the Mexican Department of the Navy (MARINA) and Department of National Defense (DEFENSA) and addresses shared security challenges by, with, and through our Mexican partners.”

Mexico has worked hard to improve internal security since President Claudia Sheinbaum took office in 2024. The government has aggressively confronted transnational criminal organizations (TCOs) including the Sinaloa Cartel and the Jalisco New Generation Cartel. Mexico City has extradited dozens of cartel leaders to the U.S. for trial. Increased training and collaboration between U.S. and Mexican special forces and other military units has built trust and capabilities that were demonstrated in the daring raid that resulted in the death of Rubén Oseguera Cervantes, known as “El Mencho,” in February.

In 2025, Mexican military personnel trained with the U.S. Army’s 82nd Airborne Division at the Joint Readiness Training Center. Mexican and U.S. Soldiers conducted mirrored patrols along the Mexico-U.S. coordinated by Joint Task Force-Southern Border. Naval exchanges and growing partnerships with U.S. National Guard forces also demonstrate strong military ties, Guillot noted in his March testimony.

The April shooting at the Teotihuacan pyramids — a UNESCO Heritage Site and one of Mexico’s most frequented tourist attractions — killed a Canadian tourist and injured a dozen more, according to The Associated Press. Sheinbaum dispatched police with bomb-sniffing dogs to the site. Overall, the government has deployed 100,000 security personnel in advance of the Cup, the AP reported. But the Mexican president said the shooting by the lone gunman, wasn’t an indication of future violence during the Cup. “Our obligation as a government is to take the appropriate measures to ensure that a situation like this does not happen again. But clearly, we all know — Mexicans know — that this is something that had not previously taken place,” Sheinbaum said April 21 during her daily morning news conference, the AP reported.

More than $1 billion has been allocated to protect the estimated 6 million fans who will attend 104 matches in 16 venues in the three countries, according to the soccer federation FIFA. The U.S. has dedicated $115 million in counter-unmanned aerial systems technology and the FBI, Secret Service and the Department of Homeland Security are coordinating security for the U.S. events at a level commensurate with presidential inaugurations, FIFA states. FIFA has spent $625 million on security, the organization said.

This article was published at The Watch

Trump Suggests Pope Unaware Of Iran Nuclear Stance Despite Leo’s Repeated Calls For Disarmament

June 1, 2026 

By EWTN News

President Donald Trump warned against a nuclear‑armed Iran, reacting to Chicago Mayor Brandon Johnsonʼs May 28 meeting with Pope Leo XIV at the Vatican, where the mayor said they discussed U.S. immigration and the Iran conflict.

Trump posted, “Someone should explain to the Pope that the Mayor of Chicago is useless, and that Iran cannot have a Nuclear Weapon.” He also shared screenshots of the mayor’s posts with pictures of him and the Chicago-born pope sharing gifts and praying. Trump made the comments in a May 30 post on Truth Social.

The president has repeatedly claimed, without evidence, that Leo wants the Middle Eastern country to develop nuclear armaments.

Leo has rejected those allegations. On May 5 at Castel Gandolfo he stated that the Church “has spoken for years against all nuclear weapons.” Later, Vatican Secretary of State Cardinal Pietro Parolin stated that the Holy See “has always worked, and will continue to work, on nuclear disarmament.”

The White House and Chicago mayor’s office did not immediately reply to requests for comment.

Trump sharply criticized Pope Leo XIV in April, calling him “weak on crime” and “terrible for foreign policy” and saying he is “not a fan” of the pope.

Trump expressed his disapproval of Leoʼs public statements denouncing the U.S.-led war on Iran. The Holy Father has repeatedly called for peace amid the ongoing conflict.

The pope has said he is “not afraid of the Trump administration or of speaking out loudly about the message of the Gospel.”

Indonesia’s Climate Finance Experiment – OpEd

June 1, 2026 
By Jonathan Manullang


Having grown up in North Sumatra, I have seen how ecological exploitation by companies such as Toba Pulp Lestari and Agincourt Resources reshapes both landscapes and lives. When flash floods and landslides struck the island in November 2025—destroying homes, displacing hundreds of thousands, and delaying aid for weeks—the scale of that vulnerability became unmistakable.

What these disasters revealed was the limits of a disaster governance model that still relies on reacting after the fact. In response, a new generation of Indonesian climate finance proposals signals a broader shift toward financialised climate governance, in which resilience is increasingly packaged, priced, and transferred through global capital markets.

An Indonesian student team from Columbia University was selected as a finalist in the 2026 Kellogg-Morgan Stanley Sustainable Investing Challenge with its proposal, Nusantara Resilient Capital (NRC). The project seeks to deploy a fully collateralised parametric catastrophe bond to transfer Sumatra’s sovereign flood risk to capital markets. It would also ring-fence surplus returns for upstream reforestation. Though still conceptual, the proposal responds to a clear gap exposed by the November 2025 floods, which caused an estimated US$3.2 billion in losses and displaced nearly 400,000 people. Its premise is straightforward: disaster response must move from delayed aid to pre-arranged, market-based liquidity.

The competition’s winning entry was even more ambitious. It proposed the AAA Fund—a blended finance credit facility designed to address the degradation of Indonesia’s coastal mangrove ecosystems while generating returns through blue carbon credits. Like NRC, the fund remains a proposal, but it reflects a broader trend: the growing effort to link ecological restoration with financial returns.


Since the 2004 tsunami in Aceh, disaster governance has been characterised by a largely reactive orientation, with strong emphasis on emergency budget reallocations, international humanitarian aid, and extensive post-crisis reconstruction efforts. At the same time, Indonesia’s development model—historically dependent on extractive industries—has intensified environmental vulnerability while generating uneven state capacity across regions. As climate shocks increase in both frequency and scale, this system is becoming fiscally and politically untenable, creating the conditions for the turn toward market-based, financialised solutions.

Disaster management is increasingly treated as a question of macroeconomic stability and long-term governance. The turn toward climate finance reflects an attempt to mobilise capital beyond the state and to reduce dependence on post-disaster borrowing and aid. Indonesia is positioning itself as a laboratory for financialised climate governance in Southeast Asia.

The NRC proposal illustrates this shift at the sovereign level. By combining parametric catastrophe bonds with nature-based restoration, NRC turns climate risk into a tradable financial instrument: payouts are automatically triggered when environmental thresholds are exceeded, enabling rapid disbursement. In doing so, it addresses a central weakness of conventional disaster response—delays in funding—while reframing ecosystems as infrastructure within systems of risk pricing and capital allocation.

At a different scale, the AAA Fund focuses on coastal resilience through a blended finance structure that works with local cooperatives. Its core strategy is silvofishery—integrating mangrove restoration with shrimp aquaculture. Restored mangroves generate blue carbon credits for international markets, while cooperatives produce shrimp for export supply chains that increasingly demand traceability and low-carbon production. The model aims to create a feedback loop in which ecological restoration and rural livelihoods reinforce one another.

These initiatives operate at different levels: NRC targets sovereign risk, while the AAA Fund focuses on local economic restructuring.

The AAA Fund’s reliance on global carbon markets makes it structurally fragile. Carbon prices remain volatile and unevenly regulated, and the credibility of offset markets continues to be contested. This introduces a fundamental mismatch: ecological restoration unfolds over decades, while investors expect measurable returns within much shorter timeframes. The risk is growing with the possibility that restoration projects are shaped more by market signals than by ecological or community needs.

Technical and institutional constraints reinforce this problem. Measuring blue carbon requires satellite monitoring, soil sampling, and internationally accredited verification systems—processes that are expensive and often dominated by external actors. This raises a familiar concern in Indonesia’s resource sectors: that value is captured by intermediaries while local communities assume the burden of implementation.

Governance challenges further complicate the picture. Cooperative models are vulnerable to elite capture, weak accountability, and contested revenue distribution. In coastal regions, overlapping claims between customary authorities, state agencies, and private concessions make even basic questions of ownership difficult to resolve. Who controls restored mangroves? Who owns the carbon credits? These are not abstract concerns, they are likely flashpoints in a context where land and resource governance has long been politically sensitive.


The NRC model faces a different set of risks. Parametric insurance systems depend on predefined triggers that may not align with lived realities. Communities may experience severe flooding without meeting the thresholds required to release funds—a problem known as basis risk. In a social context where mutual assistance (gotong royong) remains central, such discrepancies could erode trust in formal financial mechanisms.

These initiatives transform environmental governance by embedding it within financial systems. As ecosystems are incorporated into carbon pricing systems, their value is increasingly determined by global markets. It risks reproducing, in new form, the dynamics that have long characterised Indonesia’s extractive economy: the external valuation of natural resources, the marginalisation of local priorities, and the uneven distribution of benefits.

Yet dismissing these experiments outright would be a mistake. Indonesia faces a genuine fiscal and ecological constraint. Traditional approaches—reliance on aid, reconstruction spending, and sovereign borrowing—are no longer sufficient to manage escalating climate risks. The turn toward climate finance is, in part, a pragmatic response to these pressures.

The more important question is what kind of system is being built. If resilience is to be made investable, under what conditions can it avoid reproducing extractive logics? And who ultimately shapes the terms of that investment?

Indonesia’s climate finance experiment suggests that the answer will not lie in technical design alone. It will depend on political choices about regulation, ownership, and accountability—on whether the state can mediate between global capital, ecological realities, and local interests.

The stakes are regional. If current trends continue, Southeast Asia may see the emergence of a model in which resilience is increasingly priced, traded, and governed through financial markets. Whether this model enhances genuine adaptive capacity or entrenches new forms of dependency will depend on how these tensions are resolved.

‘Chokepoint Windfall’ Offers Algeria A Rare Opening – OpEd

June 1, 2026 
Arab News
By Hafed Al-Ghwell

History has handed Algeria an improbable second chance. Four years after the Russia-Ukraine war elevated Algerian hydrocarbons into a strategic European necessity, the closure of the Strait of Hormuz has again pushed Algiers into the center of global energy politics. Nearly 20 percent of global oil flows and a comparable share of LNG shipments normally pass through the waterway’s narrow corridor. Once maritime traffic through the Gulf became constrained, Europe immediately rediscovered the value of geography.

Few producers sit in a more advantageous position during such a disruption. Algeria exports hydrocarbons from the western Mediterranean, insulated from Gulf chokepoints and protected from the insurance shocks, naval risks, and shipping delays now punishing LNG exporters depending on Hormuz. Pipelines linking Algeria directly to Europe have suddenly become strategic infrastructure rather than ordinary commercial assets. For instance, the TransMed feeds Italy. Medgaz supplies Spain. Neither depends on vulnerable Gulf shipping lanes.

Geography, however, only creates opportunities. Institutions determine whether those opportunities prosper.

Brent crude surging past $100 per barrel alongside rising European gas prices, will likely push Algeria’s annual hydrocarbon revenues toward the $61-71 billion range, approaching or exceeding the post-Ukraine boom of 2022.

With the closure of the strait and disruptions in the Red Sea, European diplomacy reacted with unusual speed. Energy security now outranks nearly every other Mediterranean concern. Rome has since deepened cooperation between Eni and Sonatrach, while Madrid accelerated talks over expanded Medgaz deliveries. Algeria has once again become indispensable to southern Europe’s industrial stability. Italy already sources roughly 30 percent of its gas from Algeria, while generating more than 40 percent of its electricity from gas-fired power.

Reliability matters more than volume during crises. European policymakers understand that distinction clearly.

Yet Algeria’s significance is frequently misunderstood abroad. Algiers cannot replace Gulf exports at scale. Production ceilings, aging fields, and rising domestic demand prevent what Europe is really searching for: a replacement of the Gulf on the Mediterranean. Instead, Europe can only settle for a politically safer supplier capable of reducing exposure to volatile chokepoints.

Such dynamics create a rare opening for structural reform. A rash of new capital inflows could revitalize mature basins such as Hassi R’Mel and Berkine while financing Sonatrach’s enormous multi-year investment program. After all, foreign investors calculate that proximity to Europe largely compensates for Algerian administrative friction. What is more, international majors now perceive regulatory inconvenience as manageable compared with geopolitical supply insecurity elsewhere.

Longer-term potential may prove even more consequential.

Existing gas infrastructure positions Algeria to become part of Europe’s future hydrogen economy. Projects tied to the SoutH2 Corridor could eventually repurpose sections of Mediterranean gas infrastructure for green hydrogen exports into European markets. Few African countries possess Algeria’s combination of solar potential, pipeline connectivity, industrial scale, and geographic proximity to Europe.

Nevertheless, every optimistic scenario collides with Algeria’s deepest structural weakness: the rentier reflex.

Energy windfalls historically strengthen the state, while weakening reform urgency. Previous booms financed social peace rather than economic transformation. Following the 2022 energy surge, authorities expanded subsidies, public wages, and social transfers to calm lingering tensions from the Hirak era. Roughly 9-15 percent of Algeria’s gross domestic product now goes toward subsidies spanning electricity, fuel, housing, food, and water. Domestic gas prices remain among the world’s lowest, encouraging rapid consumption growth that increasingly cannibalizes export capacity.

Internal demand represents the silent threat beneath Algeria’s apparent energy strength. Domestic gas consumption exceeded 53 billion cubic meters in 2025 and continues growing rapidly due to population growth, industrial expansion, and heavily subsidized electricity generation. Gas dominates more than 97 percent of Algeria’s power mix. Every subsidized cubic meter consumed domestically reduces future export earnings.

Such trends create an unusual head-scratcher for Algiers’ policymakers. Export revenues rise because Europe needs Algerian gas. However, export capacity lessens because Algerians consume more gas at home each year.

Moreover, infrastructure deterioration hobbles Algeria’s quest for enduring transformation. Aging LNG facilities at Arzew have already suffered recurring technical disruptions. Hassi R’Mel, the backbone of Algeria’s gas system, faces declining reservoir performance after decades of extraction. Some industry forecasts suggest production could plateau by 2027 without major efficiency gains and accelerated field development.

Shifting climate policies introduce another pain point. European decarbonization targets are no longer theoretical ambitions. The EU’s Carbon Border Adjustment Mechanism will gradually punish carbon-intensive exporters lacking credible transition plans. Algeria also ranks among the world’s largest gas flarers, exposing its exports to future methane-related penalties in European markets.

Algeria, therefore, faces a narrow strategic window rather than a permanent geopolitical elevation. Disruptions in the Strait of Hormuz created breathing room, not immunity from structural decline.

Several encouraging signs distinguish 2026 from 2022. President Abdelmadjid Tebboune now governs with greater policy continuity. Investment frameworks have become more operational. Digital trade reforms improved port logistics. Non-hydrocarbon exports, although still small, have tripled since 2017 to roughly $5 billion, led by fertilizers, steel, cement, and agricultural products. Accreditation reforms and export digitization are slowly improving competitiveness.

Even so, Algeria’s diversification challenge remains enormous. Hydrocarbons still account for roughly 90 percent of export revenues. Informal economic activity approaches nearly half of GDP by some estimates. Youth unemployment exceeds 30 percent. Renewable energy contributes less than 3 percent of installed electricity capacity despite immense solar potential.

Political incentives also remain misaligned. Windfalls reduce pressure for painful reforms precisely when reforms become most necessary. Cutting subsidies risks social unrest. Expanding private-sector competition threatens entrenched interests. Bureaucratic opacity still discourages many investors despite recent reforms. Sonatrach itself has cycled through multiple CEOs within a decade, weakening institutional continuity.

Global energy transitions will not wait for Algeria to resolve those contradictions at its own pace. Europe’s gas demand is expected to decline structurally over the coming decades as electrification, hydrogen adoption, and renewable deployment accelerate. Algeria’s geopolitical relevance currently rests on Europe’s insecurity. Permanent strategy cannot rely on recurring international crises.

Future historians may ultimately judge the Hormuz crisis less by oil prices than by whether Algeria finally escaped the logic of emergency economics. Another decade of using hydrocarbon revenues to preserve consumption without expanding productive capacity would carry severe consequences. Domestic demand could eventually absorb exportable surpluses by the mid-2030s, gradually eroding the fiscal engine that sustains the Algerian state itself.

A rare alignment of geography, geopolitics, and market timing has delivered Algeria an opening few nations receive twice. Successful states treat windfalls as temporary capital for future resilience. Fragile systems treat windfalls as permanent income.

Algeria must now decide which category it belongs to.

• Hafed Al-Ghwell is senior fellow and program director at the Stimson Center in Washington and senior fellow at the Center for Conflict and Humanitarian Studies.

Strait of Hormuz Is As Ancient As The Hills – OpEd

 Strait of Hormuz. Credit: VOA

 June 1, 2026

By M.K. Bhadrakumar

Control of vital sea lanes and narrow chokepoints has been an underpinning of the United States’ foreign policy strategy since the Second World War. It is basically anchored on the so-called Rimland Theory expounded in 1942 by the Dutch-American political geographer Nicholas Spykman, which itself was a riposte to the Heartland Theory formulated in 1904 by the British political geographer Halford Mackinder that had advanced the view that the Eurasian core (read Russia) which he named as ‘pivot area’ or ‘Heartland’ and inaccessible to sea power but possessed the vast capacity of becoming the seat of a great world power, would be able to dominate the whole world. 

Mackinder divided the world and called Europe, Asia and Africa as ‘World Island’ comprising two-third of the world land and seven-eighths of the world population. But that was before the US ‘crossed’ the Atlantic during the First World War and steadily acquired the gravitas to become a transatlantic power, and eventually the global power and even fancied for a brief spell as the world’s sole superpower or ‘hyperpower’. 

Since WW 2, Mackinder’s Heartland Theory continued to haunt American strategists. Zbigniew Brzezinski’s classic work The Grand Chessboard (1997) directly adapted Mackinder’s Heartland Theory, re-contextualising its classical Eurasian focus to fit a unipolar, post-Cold War world where the US emerged as the sole global superpower. Of course, that was before China upended both Mackinder and Brzezinski.

According to Brzezinski, to maintain global preeminence, the US must dominate the Eurasian landmass to prevent any single rival challenger from rising. Mackinder sought to prevent the rise of a land-sea power alliance that could penetrate the Heartland, which Brzezinski found attractive —  preventing coalitions between rival powers like Russia, China, and Iran. 

Brzezinski expanded Mackinder’s mostly geographical model into a specific playbook. It is amazing how US strategists still navigate their way mostly using Brzezinski’s compass. Suffice to say, the US officials such as state secretary Marco Rubio are indulging in sheer sophistry when they propagate  that what is unfolding in the Strait of Hormuz today is ‘precedent-setting’.  

Actually, the struggle to secure waterways is as ancient as the hills. A fascinating article by FT which appeared in the weekend titled The power struggle in the world’s narrow seas begins like this: “In 405BC, the Spartans under Lysander targeted the narrow passage now known as the Dardanelles (present-day Turkey), cutting off Athens from its major source of grain. The resulting starvation forced the surrender of an empire. 

“Such narrow chokepoints are a key vulnerability for global seaborne trade: as mariners navigate the tight waterways, they face risks from pirates to militants and major powers vying for control.

“Now those vulnerabilities are being laid bare in the Strait of Hormuz… After the US and Israel attacked Iran in February, Tehran announced that it had taken control of the strait. Washington has responded with its own blockade of Iranian ports.”

The FT flags that “Even before the Hormuz stand-off, disruptions at maritime chokepoints affected about $190bn of trade each year.” It quotes the CEO of Maersk, the world’s second-largest container shipping line, that “Some of these trade routes have been weaponised to an extent that we have not seen before.” 

By the way, President Trump who threatened to take control of the Panama Canal, has since acted on his threat by blocking China from using the waterway for its trade with the Western Hemisphere. And Beijing is reportedly toying with the idea to “rekindle building a Nicaragua Canal” to neutralise US’ control of the Panama Canal. 

Chatham House estimates the Indian Ocean as a pressure point between the US, China and Russia, as evident in the joint Russian-Chinese naval exercise (chokepoint power play) off South Africa’s Indian Ocean coast in January. The Northern Route, which Russia is developing through the icy Arctic, is not just about reducing journey times to Europe, but also would “circumvent five or six major chokepoints”, including, paradoxically, the narrow Bering Strait between Russia and the US! 

The recent defence pact between the US and Indonesia with an eye on Malacca Strait, directly impacts ‘freedom of navigation’ in the South China Sea. The reported American plan to establish a military base in Bangladesh also is a related development. 

Suffice to say, the the geopolitical reality is that the contestations over waterways will only intensify going forward. And, in turn, the search for alternatives to chokepoints may only create new dependencies. As the US’s stature and clout as a global hegemon keeps diminishing, other power centres are flexing muscles.

It is in war conditions that the control of sea lanes and waterways becomes crucial. Iran felt compelled to ‘weaponise’ the Strait of Hormuz only after a war was imposed on it by the US and Israel. 

On the other hand, there is no question that the decade-long Syrian war was a geopolitical struggle to gain strategic ascendance in the East Mediterranean. The Russian bases in Syria, a close ally of the former Soviet Union, were an eyesore for the West in its post-cold war bid to transform the Mediterranean as an exclusive NATO preserve, weaken Russia’s pre-eminence in the Black Sea and make it harder for Moscow to be an influencer in Libya and the Sahel region (and further eastward in the adjacent region to the Horn of Africa.) 

Interestingly, Syrian President Ahmad al-Sharaa chose the venue of a panel discussion at Chatham House in London to  announce that Russian bases in Syria will be converted into training centers for the Syrian army.

The raging war in Sudan testifies to the fierce rivalry to control the Red Sea. China built its first (and only) overseas military base in Djibouti in 2017 at a cost of $ 600 million. The Russian proposal to establish a submarine base in Port Sudan was languishing on the back burner for almost a decade due to persisting American pressure. 

According to reports, the Sudanese government recently proposed a 25-year deal with Moscow to host up to 300 troops and four warships, including nuclear-powered vessels, in exchange for air defence systems and other weapons to be used in the civil war that has plagued the country since 2023. The base marking Moscow’s first naval foothold on the African continent, provides Russia with persistent access to a vital global maritime corridor—handling 12% of worldwide trade—linking the Suez Canal to the Indian Ocean. 

Without doubt, one of the considerations in Trump’s planned annexation of Greenland is also that it will put the US in a commanding position to control the sea lane from the Arctic, which is sure to be a strategic sea lane once the permafrost melts and the Northern Route, which Russia is developing, becomes fully operational. Denmark Strait, the 480 km long waterway which connects Arctic Ocean’s Greenland Sea to the Atlantic Ocean’s Irminger Sea, is only 290 km wide at its narrowest point between Greenland and Iceland. 

The international community should learn to live with the struggle for control of waterways as a fact of life. If Iran and Oman choose to charge a fee for rendering services to vessels using their territorial waters, so be it. The US is indulging in an irrationally self-destructive act.

• This article was published at Indian Punchline

In Calling For Book On Putin’s Ancestors, University Head Says He ‘Understands What The Kremlin Expects’ – OpEd

Vladimir Putin as a child with his Baba and mother; Maria Shelomova. 

Photo Credit: Vladimir Putin’s personal archive, Kremlin.ru

June 1, 2026 
By Paul Goble


Some of the most obsequious moves by Russian officials appear to be independent efforts to curry favor with the Kremlin, but others are clearly taking place because the Kremlin has ordered them or has ensured that it has put in place people who know in advance what Putin and the Presidential Administration want.

A case of the latter concerns the actions of Andrey Loginov, rector of the Russian State University of the Humanities, who has pushed what to many seem actions more “Catholic than the pope” or in this case more Putinist than Putin but who is in fact ready to say that he knows what the Kremlin leader wants and is acting accordingly.

Several weeks ago, Loginov’s university posted an announcement offering to pay someone to compile a book on the ancestors of Vladimir Putin between 1861 and 1917 (agents.media/rggu-nachal-iskat-biografa-roda-putinyh-kogda-rektor-ponyal-chego-ot-vuza-ozhidaet-kreml/).

This announcement draw snickers from Putin critics but it was fully consistent with what Loginov, a longtime official in the Presidential Administration, has been doing since becoming rector two years ago in promoting Kremlin ideas and an extreme Russian nationalist agenda including courses on people like Ivan Ilin and books on the war in Ukraine.

When others have taken similar actions, they have been careful to specify that they were acting on their own so that if too much criticism arose, those above them could change things quickly and in any case could avoid taking any responsibility for such steps. But Loginov has taken a different tact.

The rector says that “in the course of two years of work in the university, I have formed a clear vision of our tasks and possibilities. We understand what is expected of the Russian State University of the Humanities in institutions above us, from the Presidential Administration to the Russian Academy of Sciences.”

Loginov is thus saying that he is doing what he has been told is “expected,” a declaration that shows just how far Putin has gone in promoting his personalist and nationalist agenda and how even the most outrageous steps in this direction must be laid at his feet rather than blamed on anyone else.