Category: The Conversation – Global Perspectives

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Matt Wilde, Lecturer in Human Geography, University of Leicester

When the news broke of Nicolás Maduro’s arrest following a US attack on Venezuela on January 3, que locura (“what madness”) was the line that seemed to capture the moment. As Venezuelans around the world reached for their phones and anxiously followed the news, they grappled to make sense of what they were seeing.

Drawing on our long-term ethnographic research with Venezuelans living in Spain, the US and Venezuela itself, the insider accounts and interviews detailed below show the diverse ways in which these events are being experienced and understood.

In the Spanish capital of Madrid, many Venezuelan migrants celebrated what they saw as a long-awaited turning point. But across Venezuela’s diaspora and inside the country, others described an uneasy quiet and deep fears about what might come next. These contrasting reactions reveal a moment shaped as much by uncertainty and suspicion as by relief and hope.

At the Puerta del Sol square, home of Madrid’s regional government, we joined hundreds of Venezuelans as they met to celebrate the news that Maduro had been taken into US custody. After beginning as a small gathering, the numbers soon swelled and a party atmosphere took hold.

Anti-government chants such as y ya cayó, y ya cayó, este gobierno ya cayó (“it fell, it fell, this government fell”) and se fue, se fue, (“he’s gone, he’s gone”) reverberated around the square.

Venezuelans, many of whom have claimed political asylum in Spain, hugged, shouted, cried and danced under a 32-metre-high Christmas tree, enjoying a welcome moment of reprieve. One older Venezuelan woman dressed as the US president, Donald Trump, handed out fake dollar bills as a “reward” for capturing Maduro.

Another attendee, a 26-year-old delivery rider, described how he partied until the early hours of the morning in a bar hung with Venezuelan flags. “I’m very, very happy,” he said. “They finally captured that dictator.”

But these jubilant scenes were not the only reaction. Other Venezuelans we spoke to expressed a more cautious and contingent hope. In an interview conducted over the weekend in Madrid, a Venezuelan woman called Araceli described how she didn’t feel comfortable attending the Puerta del Sol celebrations.

“I just feel very sad. I am happy Maduro’s going to be in jail, but I know the repercussions. I know what a war means.” She continued through tears: “I just want my family to be safe. I just want the simple things. I can’t celebrate until I know my family are safe.”

Such sentiments were echoed by Guillermo, a Venezuelan man we interviewed online who is currently living in the US city of Chicago. “It’s confusing. I’m happy that Maduro has lost power, but scared because I fear the consequences of the US taking over my country.”

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Donald Trump’s raid on Venezuela foreshadows a new ‘great power’ carve-up of the world

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Many Venezuelan migrants want the chance to return home to a stable country, but are concerned about how Venezuela’s heavily militarised regime will respond to the US attack. Since Maduro’s capture, security forces and pro-government motorcycle gangs known as colectivos have patrolled the streets of Venezuela’s capital, Caracas.

They are also deeply suspicious of Trump’s motives. In the aftermath of Maduro’s abduction, Trump said the US would “run” Venezuela, though several prominent Republicans swiftly backpedalled on this assertion.

Reaction inside Venezuela

This sense of caution is playing out on Venezuela’s streets as well. Ernesto, a small business owner in the central city of Barquisimeto, described to us how his friends and neighbours are responding to Maduro’s arrest.

“A lot of anticipation and uncertainty. There’s joy that Maduro has been taken away, but no one is celebrating in public. Lots of people won’t go out because they’re worried that they’ll be stopped and robbed of their car and money if they’re out on the street. Others have gone out to stock up on groceries and gas in case of shortages.”

The removal of Maduro is also bringing longstanding political tensions to the fore. Luis, originally from the Venezuelan city of Valencia, sent us a voice note describing how he had to leave family WhatsApp groups to avoid political arguments. “Oh, you’re the best Donald Trump, oh thank you so much! Make Venezuela Great Again! It makes me so sad and angry,” he recounted sarcastically.

Anger at what many perceive to be naked imperialism from the US is expressed by Venezuelans across the political spectrum, including those who never supported the Bolivarian Revolution that was initiated by Maduro’s predecessor, Hugo Chávez.

“I am sceptical,” says Jaime, a resident of Caracas. “I don’t know if I should be happy because I don’t like Trump’s tone. He continues with his theory that we stole his oil and it sets a terrible precedent. Losing our sovereignty over the resource that sustains Venezuela would be something terrible.”

Such concerns are shared by Valentina, a retired academic based in Valencia. She told us: “Imagine, we’re being invaded by the US! It’s horrible but we can’t do anything, just wait and see what their administration will be like.”

These diverse reactions show how geopolitical ruptures are lived through families, friendships and daily routines, shaping intimate decisions and relationships in the process. As Venezuela becomes the focal point for a seismic realignment of the global political order, ordinary Venezuelans once again find their lives being restructured by forces beyond their control.

Across Venezuela’s transnational population, the present moment is marked simultaneously by hope, fear and profound uncertainty about what the future holds.

The research for this article was funded by the British Academy (SRG2324240415) and the Economic and Social Research Council (ES/2878167).

– ref. Venezuelans are reacting to Maduro’s capture with anger, fear, hope and joy – https://theconversation.com/venezuelans-are-reacting-to-maduros-capture-with-anger-fear-hope-and-joy-272717

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Kamran Talattof, Professor of Near Eastern Studies, University of Arizona

A familiar slogan has echoed through the streets of various Iranian cities in recent days: “Neither Gaza nor Lebanon, I sacrifice my life for Iran.”

That phrase has been chanted at protests that have sprung up around Iran since Dec. 28, 2025. The spark of the uprising and bazaar strikes has been economic hardship and government mismanagement.

But as an expert of Iranian history and culture, I believe the slogan’s presence signals that protests go deeper than economic frustration alone. When people in Iran chant “Neither Gaza nor Lebanon,” they are, I believe, rejecting the theocratic system in Iran entirely. In other words, the current crisis isn’t just about bread and jobs, it’s about who decides what Iran stands for.

The origins of the slogan

The phrase “Neither Gaza nor Lebanon, I sacrifice my life for Iran” first gained prominence during the 2009 Green Movement, when hundreds of thousands of people protested a disputed presidential election in Iran.

It has since appeared in successive major demonstrations, from the 2017-18 economic protests to the 2019 fuel price uprising. It was also prominent during the 2022 “Women, Life, Freedom” movement, sparked by the death of an Iranian-Kurdish woman, Mahsa Amini, following her detention by Iran’s morality police for not wearing a “proper” hijab.

The phrase ties together two key aspects of successive Iranian protest movements: domestic economic, political or social grievances and an explicit rejection of the government’s justification for that hardship – namely, that sacrifice at home is necessary to fulfill ideological goals of “resistance” abroad.

In particular, the slogan targets the Islamic Republic’s decades-long support for Hezbollah in Lebanon and Hamas in Gaza.

Estimates suggest that the regime has channeled between US$700 million and $1 billion annually to regional allies since the 1980s – funds that many Iranians argue should instead address domestic infrastructure, health care and education.

From alliance to resentment

Understanding the full meaning of the slogan requires historical context. Under the U.S.-aligned Pahlavi monarchy, which ruled from 1925 to 1979, Iran maintained diplomatic and economic ties with Israel while pursuing modernization.

The Shah’s opponents, particularly leftist groups, exploited these connections, using slogans like “Iran’s become Palestine, why sit still, O people?” to mobilize against the monarchy.

Indeed, many of the Islamic revolutionary leaders that ousted the Shah in 1979 had ties with Palestinian groups.

After the revolution, the Islamic Republic inverted both its ties to the U.S. and Iran’s relationship with Israel, making anti-Israel rhetoric and support for Palestinian causes central to its identity.

Ruhollah Khomeini, the leader of the Islamic Revolution, declared solidarity with oppressed Muslims worldwide, positioning Iran as the vanguard of resistance against what he called “Western imperialism and Zionism.”

But this ideological commitment came with substantial costs for Iranians.

Iran’s support for Hezbollah during Lebanon’s civil war, its backing of Hamas in the Palestinian group’s fight against Israel, and its involvement in Syrian and Iraqi conflicts have contributed to international sanctions, diplomatic isolation and economic pressure on Iran. And these burdens have fallen disproportionately on ordinary citizens rather than the ruling elite.

Economic crisis and political defiance

“Down with the Islamic Republic” is also chanted alongside “Neither Gaza nor Lebanon” in the current uprising – the most serious that the Iranian government has faced in years.

But neither lethal force – at least 1,203 arrests and more than two dozen deaths thus far – nor supreme leader Ali Khamenei’s Jan. 3 order for a harsher crackdown has quelled the unrest.

Instead, protests have expanded to 110 cities and villages.

The demonstrations illustrate how economic and political grievances intersect in Iran. When demonstrators chant “Neither Gaza nor Lebanon” while protesting bread prices and unemployment, they are not compartmentalizing issues – they are drawing a direct line between foreign policy choices and domestic suffering.

The slogan makes three simultaneous arguments.

First, it rejects imposed solidarity. Many Iranians, including those sympathetic to Palestinian rights, resent being conscripted into conflicts that are not their own. And the government’s insistence that Iranians must make sacrifices for distant causes breeds resentment rather than unity. Take the government’s effort to portray the 12-day war with Israel in June 2025 as a moment of national resistance. Rather, many Iranians instead blamed the leadership for either provoking the conflict or failing to meaningfully defend the country from Israeli – or American – bombs.

The slogan also demands accountability for resource allocation. When state media broadcasts funerals for fighters killed in Syria or Yemen while Iran’s hospitals lack basic supplies, the disconnect between rhetoric and reality becomes glaring.

And finally, the protest message reclaims political belonging rooted in Iranian national history – and not just the ideological concerns of the Islamic Republic. By invoking Iran specifically, “I sacrifice my life for Iran,” protesters assert that their primary allegiance is to their own country, not to transnational ideological movements, regional proxies or the ruling government’s ideology.

The limits of solidarity

For all its longevity, however, the slogan has proven divisive. While some see it as a necessary assertion of self-determination after decades of enforced sacrifice, others – including some Iranian leftist intellectuals and activists – view it as abandoning solidarity with oppressed peoples.

But it doesn’t need to be an either/or. Many protesters risking bullets to demand “Iran first” are not expressing indifference to the suffering of Palestinians. Rather, they are insisting that effective solidarity requires a functioning state capable of supporting its own citizens, and that genuine liberation begins at home.

Regardless, the Islamic Republic’s response has been to frame criticism as betrayal, suggesting that those who question support for Gaza or Lebanon are complicit with imperialism – a narrative enforced through a mix of rhetoric and coercion.

But this framing increasingly fails to persuade a population that has watched living standards decline while billions of dollars flow to foreign conflicts. The effects of sanctions and shrinking foreign-currency revenues have pushed the Iranian state to raise taxes on households while shielding military and ideological spending. Meanwhile, the dollar’s daily surge and the rial’s rapid collapse have accelerated inflation and eroded purchasing power.

Authoring one’s own story

Undoubtedly, economic grievances underpin the current protests in Iran. However, the slogans used in Iranian protests – be they over election disputes, economic crises or women’s rights – indicate a broader critique of the Islamic Republic’s governing philosophy.

In the current wave of protests, demonstrators articulate through slogans both what they reject – “Down with the Islamic Republic” – and what many now seek to happen: “This is the final battle; Pahlavi will return,” a reference to the exiled Crown Prince Reza Pahlavi.

The “Neither Gaza nor Lebanon” chant asks: What does it mean for a government to prioritize foreign conflicts over domestic welfare? How long can imposed solidarity substitute for actual prosperity? And who has the right to determine which causes are worth sacrifice?

Such questions extend beyond Iran. They challenge assumptions about how governments invoke international causes to justify domestic policies and when citizens have the right to say, “Our story comes first.”

As such, the chant “Neither Gaza nor Lebanon, I sacrifice my life for Iran” is, I believe, both protest and reclamation. It rejects the Iranian state’s narrative of mandatory sacrifice while asserting the right of people to author a national story focused on Iran’s own needs, challenges and aspirations.

Kamran Talattof does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. ‘Neither Gaza nor Lebanon!’ Iranian unrest is about more than the economy − protesters reject the Islamic Republic’s whole rationale – https://theconversation.com/neither-gaza-nor-lebanon-iranian-unrest-is-about-more-than-the-economy-protesters-reject-the-islamic-republics-whole-rationale-265696

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Justin Bergman, International Affairs Editor, The Conversation

The list of people Donald Trump has punished or threatened to punish since returning to office is long. It includes the likes of James Comey, Letitia James, John Bolton, as well as members of the opposition, such as Adam Schiff, Mark Kelly and Kamala Harris.

In fact, he has gone so far as to call Democrats “the enemy from within”, saying they are more dangerous than US adversaries like Russia and China.

According to Lucan Way, a professor of democracy at the University of Toronto, when a leader attacks the opposition like this, it’s a clear sign a country is slipping into authoritarianism.

As Way says in episode 5 of The Making of an Autocrat:

 In other kind of countries with weaker justice systems, you can literally jail members of opposition or bankrupt them. In a country like the United States, where the rule of law is quite robust, this is not possible, you can’t just jail rivals at will.

But Trump has other ways of making the cost of opposing him too high for his critics to bear. This includes investigations, lawsuits, audits, personal attacks – anything to distract and silence them.

The effect is his opponents become much more reluctant to engage in behaviour they know that Trump won’t like, Way says.

So it really has this kind of broader silencing effect that I think is quite pernicious.

Listen to the interview with Lucan Way at The Making of an Autocrat podcast, available at Spotify, Apple, or wherever you get your podcasts.

This episode was written by Justin Bergman and produced and edited by Isabella Podwinski and Ashlynne McGhee. Sound design by Michelle Macklem.

Newsclips in this episode WCNC, MS NOW, WHAS11, and Radio Free Europe.

Listen to The Conversation Weekly via any of the apps listed above, download it directly via our RSS feed or find out how else to listen here. A transcript of this episode is available via the Apple Podcasts or Spotify apps.

Lucan Way has received funding from the Social Science and Humanities Research Council of Canada.

– ref. Autocrats have long lists of political enemies. This is how Donald Trump has tried to silence his – https://theconversation.com/autocrats-have-long-lists-of-political-enemies-this-is-how-donald-trump-has-tried-to-silence-his-272252

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Amani Braa, Assistant lecturer, Université de Montréal

In 2025, youth-led protests erupted everywhere from Morocco to Nepal, Madagascar and Europe. A generation refused to remain silent in the face of economic precariousness, corruption and eroding democratic norms and institutions.

Although they arose in different contexts, all the protests were met with the same playbook of responses: repression, contempt and suspicion towards youth dismissed as irresponsible.

Mobilization across several continents

In Morocco, the #Gen212 movement, which originated on social media, denounced the high cost of living, police violence, muzzling of civil society and lack of opportunities. This mobilization, which began digitally on platforms such as Discord, quickly spilled over from screens into concrete action taken in several cities across the country.

In Madagascar, young people took to the streets at the end of September in a climate of high pre-election tensions to demand real change before being violently repressed. In Nepal, thousands of young people occupyied public spaces, demanding genuine democracy and an end to the corruption that is undermining the country.

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In Europe, too, youth are mobilizing against authoritarian excesses and persistent inequalities. In Italy, France, and Spain, young people are taking to the streets to protest gender-based violence, unpopular reforms and police repression and to demand recognition of their political rights.

Although the contexts are very different, these mobilizations share the same goal of refusing injustice and demanding that marginalized voices be heard.

Authorities call youth immature and irrational

These movements are often treated as fleeting emotional outbursts, even though they express structured political demands for social justice, freedom, economic security, access to dignity and participation.

Yet the responses by governments have been heading in a totally different direction — towards increased repression. Young protesters are being monitored, arrested, stigmatized and sometimes accused of treason or of being manipulated by foreign powers.

In Morocco, for example, nearly 2,500 young people have been prosecuted, with more than 400 convicted — including 76 minors — since September 2025. The charges include “group rebellion,” “incitement to commit crimes” and participating in armed gatherings. More than 60 prison sentences have been handed down, some of them for up to 15 years.

This mass judicialization of a peaceful movement has been denounced by Amnesty International, which points to excessive uses of force and the increasing criminalization of protest.

In Madagascar, the response was just as brutal: at least 22 deaths, more than 100 injuries and hundreds of arbitrary arrests were recorded during youth demonstrations against corruption and electoral irregularities.

According to the United Nations, security forces used rubber bullets and tear gas to disperse the crowds. The crisis culminated in the flight of President Andry Rajoelina, which confirmed that, far from defusing the conflict, the crackdown revealed institutions’ fragility in the face of politicized youth.

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A discourse referring to parental responsibility

The actions of the young people who have been arrested during recent protests are often attributed to lack of parental responsibility.

In Morocco, for example, the Home Office has called on parents to supervise and guide their children. In Indonesia, the Philippines, Peru and Nepal alike, authorities call on parents to supervise, guide or restrain their children, shifting the political conflict into the family sphere.

This trend illustrates what national security researcher Fatima Ahdash calls the “familialization” of politics: instead of addressing the social, economic and ideological causes of protests, governments turn them into a matter of home education, depoliticizing, individualizing and privatizing the protests in the process. Families become the prism through which young people’s political behaviour is interpreted, evaluated and sometimes punished.

This response isn’t new, but it’s taking on unprecedented proportions in a global context of democratic fragility and authoritarian recentring of power marked by the restriction of freedoms, the control of protest and the criminalization of social movements.

States are adopting a defensive stance, treating youth engagement not as a civic resource but as a threat to be neutralized. This hardened stance is symptomatic of a deeper problem: youth are refusing to be satisfied with empty promises and forced compromises, but they face powers unable to recognize the legitimacy of their anger and aspirations..

Silencing criticism

Repression in response to criticism has become a tactic governments use to avoid being questioned. But this strategy is becoming increasingly fragile.

That’s because first, it denies the legitimacy of the anger being expressed. Secondly, it ignores a fundamental reality: that this anger is rooted in collective experiences of social decline, discrimination and political powerlessness. It’s not empty anger. It expresses a demand for social, political and environmental change that institutions are struggling to grasp.

Unlike mobilizations likr the Arab Spring of 2011, the current protests led by Generation Z are horizontal; they are decentralized, have no identifiable leaders, and are rooted in the urgency of the present.

They also originate on social media, organize themselves into autonomous micro-cells, reject structuring ideological narratives, and favour a politics of everyday life — meaning they reject precariousness while calling for immediate dignity and concrete justice.

Their esthetic is fluid, borrowing from digital codes — memes, manga, visual remixes — and their forms circulate through emotional affinities rather than imitation. This makes them elusive to the powers that be, but powerfully viral.

These movements stir up political emotions (anger, but also hope) and create new languages, digital practices and forms of engagement that often lie outside traditional parties.

One unifying visual element keeps coming up: the black flag with a skull and crossbones wearing a straw hat, a symbol taken from the manga One Piece. More than just a nod to pop culture, this Jolly Roger embodies a thirst for justice, freedom and rebellion shared by a globalized youth, from Kathmandu to Rome.

In Serbia, for example, a student uprising in early 2025 with no visible leader united thousands of people around a simple slogan: more democracy. The movement spread to other generations, without any party or hierarchy, challenging a government that tried to stifle the protests through force and stigmatization.

Evading censorship

Meanwhile, the young people of Cuba Decide are mobilizing on digital platforms to demand a democratic referendum in the midst of constant surveillance. Thanks to encrypted tools and alliances abroad, they are circumventing censorship and amplifying their voices beyond borders.

While criminalizing young people and their protests may slow their momentum, it doesn’t solve anything. It only undermines the social contract, fuels political disenchantment and reinforces polarization. What’s more, it risks pushing demands for reform to outright refusal of the status quo.

Recent protests remind us of an obvious fact: young people are not “the future,” but political entities in the present. Governments need to hear not just the noise of protest, but the clarity of the demands: justice, dignity, representation and a future.

Amani Braa received funding from the Fonds de Recherche du Québec – Sociétés et Culture (FRQ-SC).

– ref. From Kathmandu to Casablanca, a generation under surveillance is rising up – https://theconversation.com/from-kathmandu-to-casablanca-a-generation-under-surveillance-is-rising-up-270624

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Amin Saikal, Emeritus Professor of Middle Eastern Studies, Australian National University; The University of Western Australia; Victoria University

Iran’s Islamic regime is once again faced with nationwide popular protests and a potential confrontation with Israel and the United States.

Protesters have flooded Tehran and many other major cities in recent days, calling for the downfall of the regime. The US and Israel have also voiced strong support for the protesters.

At least 20 people have reportedly been killed, with around 1,000 arrested.

Despite the regime’s increasing vulnerability, though, it might be too early to write its obituary.

Why Iranians are so angry

Public discontent with the Islamic regime has been building for years.

The current wave of protests was triggered in late December by the collapse of the Iranian currency and the rising cost of living. However, the public’s fury is rooted in wider societal grievances. These include:

• the regime’s theocratic impositions, such as the mandatory headscarf (hijab) rule that women are increasingly flouting in public
• widespread corruption and mismanagement of the economy under severe US-led sanctions
• the costly support for a network of proxy militant groups in Lebanon, Gaza, Iraq and Yemen, and
• the regime’s top-down approach to water governance that has left the country increasingly vulnerable to drought.

The current wave of protests was initially sparked by bazaaris (traditional business owners and shopkeepers). However, in the last week, it has swelled to include university students and those from the “Women, Life and Freedom” movement that took to the streets following the death of a young woman, Mahsa Amini, in the custody of the morality police in 2022.

The regime severely cracked down on those protests, but they have continued in other forms over the past few years.

More threats from Trump

The regime is also facing external pressure from the US and Israel.

US President Donald Trump has warned the Iranian government not to kill protesters, saying the US was “locked and loaded” to act.

In recent days, both Trump and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu have also threatened another round of military action if Tehran rebuilds its nuclear capability and refuses to curtail its missile industry.

Netanyahu, who has relentlessly castigated the regime as an existential threat, initiated a 12-day war with Iran last June. The US briefly entered the war by bombing Iran’s three main nuclear sites, after which Trump claimed to have “obliterated” Iran’s nuclear program.

Many experts and the UN’s nuclear watchdog, the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA), have since cast doubt on this claim.

The foundations of the Iranian program reportedly survived the US and Israeli bombings. Some 400 kilograms of highly enriched uranium, still missing, could potentially enable Tehran to assemble a few nuclear bombs in moments of desperation. There also haven’t been new talks between Iran and Western powers to negotiate a new nuclear deal, either.

In recent days, Trump has accused Tehran of seeking new nuclear sites and attempting to replenish its missile stocks, threatening to “eradicate that build-up”.

Prepared to defend itself

While unpopular, the Iranian regime can still rely on many repressive instruments of state power.

These include the powerful Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) and the well-equipped and well-trained Basij paramilitary force used to crack down on dissent. The regime also has intelligence services, revolutionary committees and a network of clerical circles.

The fortunes of these forces are closely tied to the survival of the regime. Many of them are headed by figures who were involved in setting them up following the toppling of Shah Mohammad Reza Pahlavi’s pro-Western monarchy in the revolution of 1978–79. They are fully cognisant of the fact that if the regime goes down, they will, too.

The regime has also prepared to defend itself long-term against any foreign threats. It has invested heavily in an asymmetrical warfare strategy and developed a potent defence industry. Since the end of the war with Israel, it has reportedly focused on rebuilding its missile capabilities and acquiring fresh supplies of arms and air defence systems from Russia and China.

Yet, the Islamic government still faces a critical situation, especially following the Trump administration’s toppling of Venezuela’s leader in recent days.

Many Iranians both inside and outside the country want to see the fall of the clerical regime and Reza Pahlavi, the son of the last shah, to return from exile to head a transitional government to democratise Iran.

However, Trump has reportedly not favoured regime change in Iran, possibly fearing the political transition may not be orderly and could be as bloody and disruptive as the one that followed the shah’s fall in 1979. He has also made clear his focus is on the Western hemisphere.

Iran is a very complex country with a diverse population of 93 million people. It is also strategically placed, with the longest coastline on the oil-rich Persian Gulf in a traditional zone of major power rivalry. These considerations should be on Trump’s mind when deciding how to handle Iran.

Amin Saikal does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Facing protests and new threats from Trump, is the Iranian regime on its last legs? – https://theconversation.com/facing-protests-and-new-threats-from-trump-is-the-iranian-regime-on-its-last-legs-272795

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Juliette McIntyre, Senior Lecturer in Law, Adelaide University

The United Nations turned 80 in October last year; a venerable age for the most significant international organisation the world has ever seen.

But events of recent years – from last weekend’s Trumpian military action to seize Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro and Russia’s unlawful invasion of Ukraine in 2022, to the ongoing humanitarian catastrophe in Gaza – represent major challenges to the UN system.

Many are now asking whether the United Nations has any future at all if it cannot fulfil its first promise of maintaining international peace and security.

Has the UN reached the end of its lifespan?

The UN Security Council

The organ of the UN that plays the main role maintaining peace and security is the UN Security Council.

Under the rules established by the UN Charter, military action – the use of force – is only lawful if it has been authorised by a resolution from the UN Security Council (as outlined in Article 42 of the Charter), or if the state in question is acting in self-defence.

Self-defence is governed by strict rules requiring it to be in response to an armed attack (Article 51). Even then, self-defence is lawful only until the Security Council has stepped in to restore international peace and security.

The Security Council is made up of 15 member states:

• five permanent (China, France, Russia, the United Kingdom and the United States – also known as the P5)

• ten non-permanent members elected for two-year terms.

Resolutions require nine affirmative votes and no veto from any permanent member, giving the P5 decisive control over all action on peace and security.

This was set up expressly to prevent the UN from being able to take action against the major powers (the “winners” of the second world war), but also to allow them to act as a balance to each other’s ambitions.

This system only works, however, when the P5 agree to abide by the rules.

Could the UN veto system be reformed?

As aptly demonstrated by the Russians and Americans in recent years, the veto power can render the Security Council effectively useless, no matter how egregious the breach of international law.

For that reason, the veto is often harshly criticised.

As one of us (Tamsin Paige) has explained previously, however, self-serving use of the veto power (meaning when a member state uses its veto power to further its own interests) may be politically objectionable but it is not legally prohibited.

The UN Charter imposes no enforceable limits on veto use.

Nor is there any possibility of a judicial review of the Security Council at the moment.

And herein lies one of the most significant and deliberate design flaws of the UN system.

The charter places the P5 above the law, granting them not only the power to veto collective action, but also the power to veto any attempt at reform.

Reforming the UN Security Council veto is thus theoretically conceivable – Articles 108 and 109 of the charter allow for it – but functionally impossible.

Dissolving and reconstituting the UN under a new charter is the only structural alternative.

This, however, would require a level of global collectivism that presently does not exist. One or more of the P5 would likely block any reform or redesign that would see the loss of their veto power.

An uncomfortable truth

It does, therefore, appear as though we are witnessing the collapse of the UN-led international peace and security system in real time.

The Security Council cannot – by design – intervene when the P5 (China, France, Russia, the UK and US) are the aggressors.

But focusing only on the Security Council risks missing much of what the UN actually does, every day, largely out of sight.

Despite its paralysis when it comes to great-power conflict, the UN is not a hollow institution.

The Secretariat, for instance, supports peacekeeping and political missions and helps organise international conferences and negotiations.

The Human Rights Council monitors and reports on human rights compliance.

UN-administered agencies coordinate humanitarian relief and deliver life-saving aid.

The UN machinery touches on everything from health to human rights to climate and development, performing functions that no single state can replicate alone.

None of this work requires Security Council involvement, but all of it depends on the UN’s institutional infrastructure (of which the Security Council is an integral part).

The uncomfortable truth is we have only one real choice at present: a deeply flawed global institution, or none at all.

The future of the UN may simply be one of sheer endurance, holding together what can still function and waiting for political conditions to change.

We support it not because it works perfectly, or even well, but because losing it would be much worse.

Should we work towards a better system that doesn’t reward the powerful by making them unaccountable? Absolutely.

But we shouldn’t throw out all of the overlooked good the UN does beyond the Security Council’s chambers because of the naked hypocrisy and villainy of the P5.

Tamsin Phillipa Paige received an Endeavour Fellowship from the Department of Education in 2014 (in effect through 2015 and 2016), funding her work on the UN Security Council.

Juliette McIntyre does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Venezuela, Gaza, Ukraine: is the UN failing? – https://theconversation.com/venezuela-gaza-ukraine-is-the-un-failing-272703

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Donald Rothwell, Professor of International Law, Australian National University

The January 3 US military operation in Venezuela seizing President Nicolás Maduro and his wife, Cilia Adela Flores de Maduro, was in equal measure audacious and illegal under international law.

It’s even more breathtaking that the Trump administration now says it “will run” Venezuela on an interim basis. The US will also seek to control the country’s vast oil interests.

Irrespective of its contested domestic politics and the chequered record of the Maduro regime, Venezuela remains a recognised sovereign state under international law. This includes permanent sovereignty over its natural resources. Any US seizure of Venezuelan oil would be a further violation of international law.

But the US hasn’t tried to justify its strikes with international law. Instead, the Trump administration is using domestic laws to ignore global rules entirely. It’s a new strategy, but one with no international legal basis, regardless of how you slice it.

Making the international domestic

Both the first and second Trump administrations have shown animosity towards the Maduro regime.

The US government has consistently raised two key issues: the role Venezuela has played in illegal Latin American migrants entering the US, and support for the flow of drugs into the US.

Both were major issues during the 2024 US presidential election campaign and are key planks of the Trump MAGA movement.

The legitimacy of the Maduro regime has also been called into question. There were disputed election outcomes in 2018 and 2024.

However, the legitimacy or otherwise of the Maduro regime is not a legal basis for a military intervention.

Rather, the Trump administration is relying on US domestic laws to justify its actions in Venezuela. A 2020 US grand jury indictment of Maduro and his wife for drug trafficking underpins the legal argument.

That Maduro has been paraded before television cameras in New York like any other detained prisoner further emphasises the importance of US domestic law in this matter. It’s unprecedented for a foreign head of state to be arrested in their presidential compound, detained and legally processed in the US within the space of 24 hours.

Maduro and his wife will eventually face trial on various criminal charges. That Nicolás Maduro is the Venezuelan president and therefore entitled to head of state immunity from criminal prosecution before a US court will presumably be set aside as the Trump administration does not recognise the legitimacy of his presidency.

Likewise, US courts will probably not bother themselves too much with the manner of Maduro’s arrest via US extra-territorial law enforcement in a foreign state.

In the normal course of events, once the US grand jury indictment had been released, Maduro’s extradition could have been sought via a US arrest warrant.

The Trump administration likely assumed any such extradition request would have been ignored. So, instead, it used the US military to enter Maduro’s Caracas compound to facilitate his arrest by Department of Justice officials.

Law enforcement or law breaking?

At the core of how the Trump administration has advanced its legal campaign against Venezuela and the Maduro regime has been its reliance on US law.

Starting in September, the US began targeting small boats linked to the Venezuelan drug trade through military strikes at sea.

The US justified these, in part, on the basis of extra-territorial enforcement of US laws against known cartels shipping drugs throughout the Caribbean to American entry points.

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Read more:
Tracking the US build-up in the Caribbean

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In December, the US Coast Guard began to pursue and seize oil tankers subject to US sanctions. This conduct was also justified on the basis of US law, with the sanctioned tankers being stopped and seized in waters off the Venezuelan coast on the high seas.

US law enforcement has now been extended to the seizure, arrest and detention of the Maduros.

By relying on the argument that the US is enforcing its own laws, the Trump administration provides itself with a domestic legal basis for its actions, no matter what international law may have to say.

This is a clear case of US exceptionalism towards international law, of which there is a long history. It reflects a US view that its own laws prevail over all other law. According to the US, international law should not unduly limit its ability to advance its national interests.

It’s also based on an assumption that any international opprobium it may encounter can be managed or safely ignored.

The 3 things to watch

There are three immediate regional and global lessons from these events.

First, the Trump administration has shown a vast capacity to sanction whomever it chooses based on domestic political whims. Individuals, entities and corporations have all been targeted through presidential executive orders, laws and force. Many will be on high alert.

Second, while the cumulative US actions against Venezuela violate the United Nations Charter, the UN will be virtually powerless to constrain the US. This is due to the veto powers held by the permanent members of its Security Council, not to mention Trump’s disdain for the UN generally.

Third, US allies and partners need to be very aware of the ramifications of this exceptional US law enforcement practice.

If, down the line, the US military encounters a more robust response than it did in Venezuela, it could trigger NATO treaty obligations for European countries and Canada, and ANZUS treaty obligations for Australia.

So, if the US continues down this road, there’s every chance the consequences of its interventionism could be felt by many around the world.

Donald Rothwell receives funding from Australian Research Council.

– ref. Trump’s intervention in Venezuela: the 3 warnings for the world – https://theconversation.com/trumps-intervention-in-venezuela-the-3-warnings-for-the-world-272696

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By James Trapani, Associate Lecturer of History and International Relations, Western Sydney University

After US special forces swooped into Caracas to seize Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro and topple his government, US President Donald Trump said the United States will now “run” Venezuela, including its abundant oil resources.

US companies were poised to invest billions to upgrade Venezuela’s crumbling oil infrastructure, he said, and “start making money for the country”. Venezuela has the world’s largest oil reserves – outpacing Saudi Arabia with 303 billion barrels, or about 20% of global reserves.

If this does eventuate – and that’s a very big “if” – it would mark the end of an adversarial relationship that began nearly 30 years ago.

Yes, the Trump administration’s military action in Venezuela was in many ways unprecedented. But it was not surprising given Venezuela’s vast oil wealth and the historic relations between the US and Venezuela under former President Hugo Chávez and Maduro.

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A long history of US investment

Venezuela is a republic of around 30 million people on the northern coast of South America, about twice the size of California. During much of the early 20th century, it was considered the wealthiest country in South America due to its oil reserves.

Foreign companies, including those from the US, invested heavily in the growth of Venezuelan oil and played a heavy hand in its politics. In the face of US opposition, however, Venezuelan leaders began asserting more control over their main export resource. Venezuela was a key figure in the formation of the Organisation of Petroleum Exporting Countries (OPEC) in 1960, and it nationalised much of its oil industry in 1976.

This negatively impacted US companies like ExxonMobil and has fuelled the recent claims by the Trump administration that Venezuela “stole” US oil.

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Economic prosperity, however, did not follow for most Venezuelans. The mismanagement of the oil industry led to a debt crisis and International Monetary Fund (IMF) intervention in 1988. Caracas erupted in protests in February 1989 and the government sent the military to crush the uprising. An estimated 300 people were killed, according to official totals, but the real figure could be 10 times higher.

In the aftermath, Venezuelan society became further split between the wealthy, who wanted to work with the US, and the working class, who sought autonomy from the US. This division has defined Venezuelan politics ever since.

Chávez’s rise to power

Hugo Chávez began his career as a military officer. In the early 1980s, he formed the socialist “Revolutionary Bolivarian Movement-200” within the army and began giving rousing lectures against the government.

Then, after the 1989 riots, Chávez’s recruitment efforts increased dramatically and he began planning the overthrow of Venezuela’s government. In February 1992, he staged a failed coup against the pro-US president, Carlos Andrés Pérez. While he was imprisoned, his group staged another coup attempt later in the year that also failed. Chavez was jailed for two years, but emerged as the leading presidential candidate in 1998 on a socialist revolutionary platform.

Chávez became a giant of both Venezuelan and Latin American politics. His revolution evoked the memory of Simón Bolívar, the great liberator of South America from Spanish colonialism. Not only was Chávez broadly popular in Venezuela for his use of oil revenue to subsidise government programs for food, health and education, he was well-regarded in like-minded regimes in the region due to his generosity.

Most notably, Chávez provided Cuba with billions of dollars worth of oil in exchange for tens of thousands of Cuban doctors working in Venezuelan health clinics.

He also set a precedent of standing up to the US and to the IMF at global forums, famously calling then-US President George W Bush “the devil” at the UN General Assembly in 2006.

US accused of fomenting a coup

Unsurprisingly, the US was no fan of Chávez.

After hundreds of thousands of opposition protesters took to the streets in April 2002, Chavez was briefly ousted in a coup by dissident military officers and opposition figures, who installed a new president, businessman Pedro Carmona. Chávez was arrested, the Bush administration promptly recognised Carmona as president, and the The New York Times editorial page celebrated the fall of a “would-be dictator”.

Chavez swept back into power just two days later, however, on the backs of legions of supporters filling the streets. And the Bush administration immediately faced intense scrutiny for its possible role in the aborted coup.

While the US denied involvement, questions lingered for years about whether the government had advance knowledge of the coup and tacitly backed his ouster. In 2004, newly classified documents showed the CIA was aware of the plot, but it was unclear how much advance warning US officials gave Chavez himself.

US pressure continues on Maduro

Maduro, a trade unionist, was elected to the National Assembly in 2000 and quickly joined Chávez’s inner circle. He rose to the office of vice president in 2012 and, following Chávez’s death the following year, won his first election by a razor-thin margin.

But Maduro is not Chávez. He did not have the same level of support among the working class, the military or across the region. Venezuela’s economic conditions worsened and inflation skyrocketed.

And successive US administrations continued to put pressure on Maduro. Venezuela was hit with sanctions in both the Obama and first Trump presidency, and the US and its allies refused to recognise Maduro’s win in the 2018 election and again in 2024.

Isolated from much of the world, Maduro’s government became dependent on selling oil to China as its sole economic outlet. Maduro also claims to have thwarted several coup and assassination attempts allegedly involving the US and domestic opposition, most notably in April 2019 and May 2020 during Trump’s first term.

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US officials have denied involvement in any coup plots; reporting also found no evidence of US involvement in the 2020 failed coup.

Now, Trump has successfully removed Maduro in a much more brazen operation, with no attempts at deniability. It remains to be seen how Venezuelans and other Latin American nations will respond to the US actions, but one thing is certain: US involvement in Venezuelan politics will continue, as long as it has financial stakes in the country.

James Trapani does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Before toppling Maduro, the US spent decades pressuring Venezuelan leaders over its oil wealth – https://theconversation.com/before-toppling-maduro-the-us-spent-decades-pressuring-venezuelan-leaders-over-its-oil-wealth-272679

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Sarah Heathcote, Honorary Associate Professor in International Law, Australian National University

United States President Donald Trump has said the US will “run” Venezuela until a new government is installed, following the US military intervention in the country’s capital, Caracas.

American forces have seized Venezuela’s president, Nicolás Maduro, and his wife, and brought the pair to the US to face what Trump has described as a “narco-terrorism” trial.

This follows months of build-up of US military forces in the region.

The Russian Foreign Ministry has said the US attacks are:

an act of armed aggression against Venezuela. This is deeply concerning and condemnable. The pretexts used to justify such actions are unfounded.

So, what does international law say?

Was this an act of ‘force’ under the UN charter?

Article 2(4) of the United Nations Charter says:

All members shall refrain in their international relations from the threat or use of force against the territorial integrity or political independence of any state, or in any other manner inconsistent with the purposes of the United Nations.

Russia’s framing of the US’ Venezuela intervention as a condemnable “act of armed agression” is at least an affirmation of its own belief in the existence of international law.

Similarly, Russia appeals to international law when it claims, spuriously, that its own actions in Ukraine are justified under exceptions to the prohibition on armed aggression – or that they are mere “operations” within its own territory, and so for different legal reasons, lawful under international law.

Commentators have been quick to describe the US strikes in Venezuela as a breach of article 2(4) of the UN charter.

The US’ actions are only lawful if supported by a resolution from the UN Security Council; if the US was acting in self-defence; or – and this is often overlooked – if there was consent by the lawful government of Venezuela to the intervention.

There was no UN Security Council authorisation for the US to intervene in Venezuela, nor has the US been the victim of an ongoing or imminent act of aggression by Venezuela.

A claim of consent by the lawful Venezuelan government might have more ostensible credit because evidence suggests the 2024 presidential election was stolen from Maduro’s opponent, Edmundo González.

However, because the identity of the lawful government is contested (some countries have recognised Maduro’s win in the 2024 election) and the opposition controls no Venezuelan territory, the US can only intervene on the legal ground of consent with a Security Council resolution.

So, if you define the US’ actions in Venezuela as an act of “force” within the meaning of article 2(4) UN Charter, then yes, the US has engaged in a prohibited act, since none of the justifications apply.

What if it was just a ‘law enforcement operation’?

For its part, the Trump administration appears to be arguing the strikes on Venezuela were not a “use of force” in the first place, but rather a law enforcement operation.

In a press conference following the strikes, US Secretary of State Marco Rubio described the Venezuelan president as “a fugitive of American justice”. (Given the US Congress was not notified before the Venezuela strikes, this framing comes across as an attempt to obfuscate the need for Congressional authority to use force under US domestic law).

What, then, if the intervention was not a “use of force” as defined by the UN charter, but merely a law enforcement operation?

In making this assessment, one has to take into account the operation’s scale, target, location and the broader context.

Media reports have described 15,000 US troops amassing in the region by December, and the recent deployment of a US aircraft carrier near Venezuela.

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Read more:
Tracking the US build-up in the Caribbean

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The intervention in Venezuela came from the highest US authority (the president), targeted Venezuela’s acting head of state, and was executed against a background of unfriendly relations between the two states.

In this context, it is hard to see how this can be anything other than a “use of force” within the meaning of article 2(4) of the UN Charter.

It does not, in my view, constitute a law enforcement operation.

International law isn’t dead

Few will mourn the removal of Maduro, widely considered an autocrat. Democracy might even be restored to Venezuela.

Nonetheless, the US intervention in Venezuela was as brazen and unlawful as its military strike on Iran in June last year. As such, it challenges international law.

But international law is not “dead” just because the most powerful no longer respect it.

Breaches of the law are normal in any legal system. Indeed, they are expected or there would not be a need for the rule.

International law is created by all states, not just the powerful few. This makes international community reactions to breaches particularly important.

So, to preserve the rules-based international order, all states need to call out breaches of the law when they occur, including in the current instance.

Sarah Heathcote does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Were the US actions in Venezuela legal under international law? An expert explains – https://theconversation.com/were-the-us-actions-in-venezuela-legal-under-international-law-an-expert-explains-272684

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Juan Zahir Naranjo Cáceres, PhD Candidate, Political Science, International Relations and Constitutional Law, University of the Sunshine Coast

In the early hours of Saturday morning, US special forces captured Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro from his home in Caracas and flew him out of the country. US President Donald Trump announced that Maduro and his wife, Cilia Flores, would face federal narco-terrorism charges in New York.

For anyone familiar with the history of US interventions in Latin America and the Caribbean, the basic pattern is grimly familiar: a small state in Washington’s “backyard”, a leader deemed unacceptable, military force applied with overwhelming effect, and a government removed overnight.

Yet what makes Venezuela’s case different – and profoundly alarming – is the brazen nature of the months-long US military operations against the country based on shifting and shaky justifications, with little evidence.

This moment is also significant, with many scholars already warning that international law is in deep crisis.

A long tradition of removing ‘unacceptable’ leaders

Venezuela is not the first country in the region to see its leader overthrown or seized with direct US involvement or acquiescence.

In 1953, the British government suspended the constitution of its colony British Guiana (now Guyana) and removed the democratically elected government of Cheddi Jagan after just 133 days. The British believed Jagan’s social and economic reforms would threaten its business interests.

A decade later, the CIA conducted a sustained covert operation to destabilise Jagan’s later administration, culminating in rigged 1964 elections that ensured his rival, Forbes Burnham, would win.

In 1965, US President Lyndon Johnson sent more than 22,000 US troops to the Dominican Republic to prevent the return of former President Juan Bosch, overthrown in a 1963 coup, and another communist regime forming in the region.

Following the violent overthrow and execution of Prime Minister Maurice Bishop of Grenada in 1983, President Ronald Reagan ordered an invasion. His administration justified the action by citing the need to protect US medical students and prevent the island from becoming a “Soviet-Cuban colony”.

In December 1989, President George H.W. Bush launched a full-scale invasion of Panama involving about 24,000 US troops to remove General Manuel Noriega, who had been indicted on drug-trafficking charges (like Maduro). He was subsequently flown to the United States, tried and imprisoned.

And in 2004, Haitian President Jean-Bertrand Aristide was removed from power and flown to Africa in what he described as a US-orchestrated coup and “kidnapping”. In 2022, French and Haitian officials told The New York Times that France and the US had collaborated to remove him.

Why Maduro’s case is different

In all of these cases, Washington asserted control over what it has long considered its sphere of influence, intervening when governments threatened its interests through ideology, alliances or defiance.

But Venezuela in 2026 is not Grenada in 1983 or Panama in 1989. It is a much larger country with some 30 million people and significant armed forces, which has spent years preparing for a possible US invasion. More importantly, the operation unfolded in an entirely different global context.

During the Cold War, US interventions were often condemned but rarely threatened the legitimacy of the international order itself.

Today, by contrast, the Maduro operation has been met with swift and sharp condemnation from across the political spectrum.

Colombian President Gustavo Petro called the strikes an “assault on the sovereignty” of Latin America, while Brazilian President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva said the attack “crossed an unacceptable line” and set an “extremely dangerous precedent”. Mexican President Claudia Sheinbaum said the strikes were in “clear violation” of the UN Charter.

Even traditional US allies expressed discomfort. France’s foreign minister said the operation contravened the “principle of non-use of force that underpins international law” and that lasting political solutions cannot be “imposed by the outside”.

And a statement from UN Secretary-General Antonio Guterres said he was “deeply alarmed” about the “dangerous precedent” the United States was setting and the rules of international law not being respected.

The UN Charter prohibits the use of force against the territorial integrity or political independence of any state under Article 2(4).

For years, scholars have warned that repeated violations of the UN Charter by the United States were steadily eroding the basic rules governing the use of force.

Venezuela may represent the moment that erosion becomes collapse. When a permanent Security Council member not only bombs another state but abducts its head of state, the precedent is indeed profound.

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Read more:
A predawn op in Latin America? The US has been here before, but the seizure of Venezuela’s Maduro is still unprecedented

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Regional consequences

The immediate consequences for Latin America are already being felt. Colombia has moved troops to its border with Venezuela, while neighbouring Guyana has activated its own security plans.

It’s unclear at this point if further US military operations are planned. Trump has said the US will “run” Venezuela until a “safe transition” is complete, but analysts question whether Washington has the appetite for such an open-ended commitment. Venezuela’s defence minister has also pledged to continue to fight against what he called “criminal aggression”.

The operation has also deepened divisions that already existed in Latin America over Venezuela. After Maduro’s 2024 election, the results were immediately contested: Maduro’s government claimed victory, while the opposition said it won based on voting tallies it published online.

Regional governments split over which narrative to accept, with some recognising Maduro’s government and others backing the opposition. These fault lines have made a coordinated regional response to the Trump administration’s actions impossible.

The broader risk is that Venezuela becomes a precedent not only for great powers, but for regional actors. If Washington can seize a head of state without legal sanction, what stops others from doing the same?

A dangerous new normal

Maduro’s removal may or may not bring the political change Trump desires. But the manner of his removal – brazen, unilateral, defended in the language of US exceptionalism – has already done serious damage to the fragile architecture of international law.

If sovereignty can be set aside when inconvenient, heads of state can be abducted without UN approval, and the most powerful decide which governments may exist, then we have returned to a world governed by force – not the law. And in that world, no state can consider itself truly secure.

Juan Zahir Naranjo Cáceres does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. The US has invaded countries and deposed leaders before. Its military action against Venezuela feels different – https://theconversation.com/the-us-has-invaded-countries-and-deposed-leaders-before-its-military-action-against-venezuela-feels-different-272682