Diplomacy & Defense Think Tank News

Two features of AI stand out among technological innovations: It is exceptionally powerful, and its (computing) power is increasing faster than any previous technology in human history. AI is not a tool that can simply be added to the existing arsenal just for the sake of task automation and increased efficiency (Sinanoglu, 2025a). Its consequences are so profound that using it to advance broader development objectives requires changes to some of the ways development cooperation works. In this chapter, we go beyond more general assessments (OECD, 2025) of the use of AI by governments (OECD, 2026) and of the global development risks posed by AI (United Nations Independent International Scientific Panel on Artificial Intelligence, 2026). We argue that successful development cooperation for sustainable futures depends on collaboration with others in iterative and adaptive ways to exploit opportunities for positive change more effectively in challenging contexts. To this end, current development-cooperation structures and processes should be reformed to facilitate and encourage organisational learning (Brandi & Büge, 2026) and adopt a more iterative approach to cooperation. To what extent does development cooperation currently deploy AI tools for such organisational learning? By “AI”, we mean generative and agentic artificial intelligence. We also distinguish between “AI in development” and “AI for development”. Whereas the former refers to how AI is used in middle- and low-income countries, the latter refers to how the development sector can use AI. We catalogued how the supply side of development cooperation (donors, ministries, agencies, development banks, United Nations (UN) entities, humanitarian implementers and funders) uses AI in its own operations, programming, advisory work and evaluations. The database comprises 172 AI deployments and, while not exhaustive, provides a comprehensive primary-source snapshot that lets us answer three questions empirically: Who is deploying AI? What for? And how far has it matured? (See Figure 9) Our data suggest that almost 60 per cent of recorded uses fall into just two functions: getting services to people in the field (programme delivery) and speeding up the back office at headquarters (internal operations). Together, the functions most closely tied to organisational learning – monitoring, evaluation, planning and coordination – account for only roughly 19 per cent of deployments. In short, the sector is now using AI to do its existing work faster, but not yet to change how it works and learns. 

Two features of AI stand out among technological innovations: It is exceptionally powerful, and its (computing) power is increasing faster than any previous technology in human history. AI is not a tool that can simply be added to the existing arsenal just for the sake of task automation and increased efficiency (Sinanoglu, 2025a). Its consequences are so profound that using it to advance broader development objectives requires changes to some of the ways development cooperation works. In this chapter, we go beyond more general assessments (OECD, 2025) of the use of AI by governments (OECD, 2026) and of the global development risks posed by AI (United Nations Independent International Scientific Panel on Artificial Intelligence, 2026). We argue that successful development cooperation for sustainable futures depends on collaboration with others in iterative and adaptive ways to exploit opportunities for positive change more effectively in challenging contexts. To this end, current development-cooperation structures and processes should be reformed to facilitate and encourage organisational learning (Brandi & Büge, 2026) and adopt a more iterative approach to cooperation. To what extent does development cooperation currently deploy AI tools for such organisational learning? By “AI”, we mean generative and agentic artificial intelligence. We also distinguish between “AI in development” and “AI for development”. Whereas the former refers to how AI is used in middle- and low-income countries, the latter refers to how the development sector can use AI. We catalogued how the supply side of development cooperation (donors, ministries, agencies, development banks, United Nations (UN) entities, humanitarian implementers and funders) uses AI in its own operations, programming, advisory work and evaluations. The database comprises 172 AI deployments and, while not exhaustive, provides a comprehensive primary-source snapshot that lets us answer three questions empirically: Who is deploying AI? What for? And how far has it matured? (See Figure 9) Our data suggest that almost 60 per cent of recorded uses fall into just two functions: getting services to people in the field (programme delivery) and speeding up the back office at headquarters (internal operations). Together, the functions most closely tied to organisational learning – monitoring, evaluation, planning and coordination – account for only roughly 19 per cent of deployments. In short, the sector is now using AI to do its existing work faster, but not yet to change how it works and learns. 

The Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) were agreed in 2015 in a political environment in which broad multilateral agreement still appeared possible. They reflected the belief that universal goals, shared language and collective implementation could organise international cooperation, even if
they were never free from contestation (Biermann, Kanie, & Kim, 2017; Chaturvedi et al., 2020). For global health, this mattered. The 2030 Agenda broadened the health agenda beyond selected infectious diseases and maternal and child health. It included universal health coverage, non-communicable diseases, mental health, sexual and reproductive health and rights, and the wider social, economic and environmental determinants of health (Murray, 2015; WHO, 2015). With only a few years left until 2030, progress remains uneven and many health-related targets are off track. At the same time, the political context for a future global development framework has changed substantially. Global health cooper-
ation is increasingly shaped by donor retrenchment, weaker multilateralism, geopolitical competition and ideological polarisation (Held, Kickbusch, McNally, Piselli, & Told, 2019; Kickbusch & Liu, 2022). Issues such as gender equality, vaccination, climate action and migration have become more contested. These tensions now affect financing, normsetting, institutional stability and the conditions under which cooperation remains possible. Three shifts are particularly important. First, financing has become more uncertain. Aid cuts and donor retrenchment weaken multilateral health institutions and create incentives for selective, interest-driven cooperation (Poddar & Rao, 2025; Witter et al., 2025). Second, ideological polarisation makes established health commitments more contested, especially around sexual and reproductive health and rights, vaccination, and climate and health (Greene, 2026; Khosla & Allotey, 2025). Third, the global health order is becoming more multipolar. Regional organisations, middle powers,
South-South cooperation and issue-based coalitions are gaining influence (Bull & Banik, 2025; Franz et al., 2024; Lal, 2026). Together, these shifts affect who leads, which priorities are defended and how ambition is defined. At stake is not only whether new commitments can be agreed, but whether the core principles of global health cooperation can be preserved. These include rights-based commitments, universality and equity, national ownership in implementation and international solidarity through coordinated collective action. These principles are grounded in the normative framework of the World Health Organization (WHO) and reflected, although unevenly, in the 2030 Agenda and subsequent declarations on universal health coverage (UN, 2015, 2019, 2023; WHO, 1948). The risk is not only stagnation. A more serious risk is selective rollback. Commitments that seemed relatively stable during the SDG period may become vulnerable in post-2030 negotiations. This applies particularly to sexual and reproductive health and rights, vaccination and climate-related health commitments (Haeuser et al., 2025; Khosla & Allotey, 2025; Romanello et al., 2024). If consensus becomes harder to reach, the price of agreement may be dilution. A future framework may preserve the language of multilateralism while narrowing the substance of global health ambition (see also Berger & Leininger in this volume).

The Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) were agreed in 2015 in a political environment in which broad multilateral agreement still appeared possible. They reflected the belief that universal goals, shared language and collective implementation could organise international cooperation, even if
they were never free from contestation (Biermann, Kanie, & Kim, 2017; Chaturvedi et al., 2020). For global health, this mattered. The 2030 Agenda broadened the health agenda beyond selected infectious diseases and maternal and child health. It included universal health coverage, non-communicable diseases, mental health, sexual and reproductive health and rights, and the wider social, economic and environmental determinants of health (Murray, 2015; WHO, 2015). With only a few years left until 2030, progress remains uneven and many health-related targets are off track. At the same time, the political context for a future global development framework has changed substantially. Global health cooper-
ation is increasingly shaped by donor retrenchment, weaker multilateralism, geopolitical competition and ideological polarisation (Held, Kickbusch, McNally, Piselli, & Told, 2019; Kickbusch & Liu, 2022). Issues such as gender equality, vaccination, climate action and migration have become more contested. These tensions now affect financing, normsetting, institutional stability and the conditions under which cooperation remains possible. Three shifts are particularly important. First, financing has become more uncertain. Aid cuts and donor retrenchment weaken multilateral health institutions and create incentives for selective, interest-driven cooperation (Poddar & Rao, 2025; Witter et al., 2025). Second, ideological polarisation makes established health commitments more contested, especially around sexual and reproductive health and rights, vaccination, and climate and health (Greene, 2026; Khosla & Allotey, 2025). Third, the global health order is becoming more multipolar. Regional organisations, middle powers,
South-South cooperation and issue-based coalitions are gaining influence (Bull & Banik, 2025; Franz et al., 2024; Lal, 2026). Together, these shifts affect who leads, which priorities are defended and how ambition is defined. At stake is not only whether new commitments can be agreed, but whether the core principles of global health cooperation can be preserved. These include rights-based commitments, universality and equity, national ownership in implementation and international solidarity through coordinated collective action. These principles are grounded in the normative framework of the World Health Organization (WHO) and reflected, although unevenly, in the 2030 Agenda and subsequent declarations on universal health coverage (UN, 2015, 2019, 2023; WHO, 1948). The risk is not only stagnation. A more serious risk is selective rollback. Commitments that seemed relatively stable during the SDG period may become vulnerable in post-2030 negotiations. This applies particularly to sexual and reproductive health and rights, vaccination and climate-related health commitments (Haeuser et al., 2025; Khosla & Allotey, 2025; Romanello et al., 2024). If consensus becomes harder to reach, the price of agreement may be dilution. A future framework may preserve the language of multilateralism while narrowing the substance of global health ambition (see also Berger & Leininger in this volume).

The Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) were agreed in 2015 in a political environment in which broad multilateral agreement still appeared possible. They reflected the belief that universal goals, shared language and collective implementation could organise international cooperation, even if
they were never free from contestation (Biermann, Kanie, & Kim, 2017; Chaturvedi et al., 2020). For global health, this mattered. The 2030 Agenda broadened the health agenda beyond selected infectious diseases and maternal and child health. It included universal health coverage, non-communicable diseases, mental health, sexual and reproductive health and rights, and the wider social, economic and environmental determinants of health (Murray, 2015; WHO, 2015). With only a few years left until 2030, progress remains uneven and many health-related targets are off track. At the same time, the political context for a future global development framework has changed substantially. Global health cooper-
ation is increasingly shaped by donor retrenchment, weaker multilateralism, geopolitical competition and ideological polarisation (Held, Kickbusch, McNally, Piselli, & Told, 2019; Kickbusch & Liu, 2022). Issues such as gender equality, vaccination, climate action and migration have become more contested. These tensions now affect financing, normsetting, institutional stability and the conditions under which cooperation remains possible. Three shifts are particularly important. First, financing has become more uncertain. Aid cuts and donor retrenchment weaken multilateral health institutions and create incentives for selective, interest-driven cooperation (Poddar & Rao, 2025; Witter et al., 2025). Second, ideological polarisation makes established health commitments more contested, especially around sexual and reproductive health and rights, vaccination, and climate and health (Greene, 2026; Khosla & Allotey, 2025). Third, the global health order is becoming more multipolar. Regional organisations, middle powers,
South-South cooperation and issue-based coalitions are gaining influence (Bull & Banik, 2025; Franz et al., 2024; Lal, 2026). Together, these shifts affect who leads, which priorities are defended and how ambition is defined. At stake is not only whether new commitments can be agreed, but whether the core principles of global health cooperation can be preserved. These include rights-based commitments, universality and equity, national ownership in implementation and international solidarity through coordinated collective action. These principles are grounded in the normative framework of the World Health Organization (WHO) and reflected, although unevenly, in the 2030 Agenda and subsequent declarations on universal health coverage (UN, 2015, 2019, 2023; WHO, 1948). The risk is not only stagnation. A more serious risk is selective rollback. Commitments that seemed relatively stable during the SDG period may become vulnerable in post-2030 negotiations. This applies particularly to sexual and reproductive health and rights, vaccination and climate-related health commitments (Haeuser et al., 2025; Khosla & Allotey, 2025; Romanello et al., 2024). If consensus becomes harder to reach, the price of agreement may be dilution. A future framework may preserve the language of multilateralism while narrowing the substance of global health ambition (see also Berger & Leininger in this volume).

As governments increasingly prioritise national interests, security concerns and geopolitical competition over collective global responsibilities, traditional development finance mechanisms are being weakened, repurposed or redirected towards advancing narrow strategic objectives. The Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development projects a 23 per cent decline in official development assistance (ODA) between 2024 and 2025 (OECD, 2026). This reduction not only has immediate consequences for the lives and livelihood of millions of people in low-income countries (LICs) who depend on external assistance, but also creates uncertainty for partner countries, disrupts long-term development planning, and undermines the legitimacy and effectiveness of development cooperation. At the same time, development finance needs have risen sharply and continue to rise due to the climate crisis, the impacts of the COVID-19 pandemic, supply chain disruptions and rising food and energy prices. Together, these pressures have contributed to a projected USD 6.4 trillion financing gap for achieving the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) by 2030 (OECD, 2025a). Against this backdrop, mobilising greater volumes of private capital aligned with the SDGs has become increasingly important (on the need for the European Union to become more adept at facilitating private investment, see the contribution by Keijzer & Furness in this volume). In particular, blended finance has frequently been promoted as one key instrument to achieve this objective (on domestic revenue mobilisation as another key approach, see the contribution by Sen & von Haldenwang in this volume). However, despite growing attention from policy-makers and development institutions, the scale of blended finance has remained well below expectations and so far made only a limited contribution to closing the SDG financing gap. Although transaction volumes increased from USD 11.5 billion in 2020 to USD 18.3 billion in 2024, they remain small relative to the estimated USD 4 trillion annual SDG financing gap (Convergence, 2025; OECD, 2025a). As such, the Sevilla Commitment (UNCTAD, 2025) calls for scaling up private capital mobilisation through blended finance and a broader use of risk-sharing instruments. This chapter discusses the benefits and limits of blended finance as well as reforms that are needed at different levels to scale up blended finance and enhance its development impact.

As governments increasingly prioritise national interests, security concerns and geopolitical competition over collective global responsibilities, traditional development finance mechanisms are being weakened, repurposed or redirected towards advancing narrow strategic objectives. The Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development projects a 23 per cent decline in official development assistance (ODA) between 2024 and 2025 (OECD, 2026). This reduction not only has immediate consequences for the lives and livelihood of millions of people in low-income countries (LICs) who depend on external assistance, but also creates uncertainty for partner countries, disrupts long-term development planning, and undermines the legitimacy and effectiveness of development cooperation. At the same time, development finance needs have risen sharply and continue to rise due to the climate crisis, the impacts of the COVID-19 pandemic, supply chain disruptions and rising food and energy prices. Together, these pressures have contributed to a projected USD 6.4 trillion financing gap for achieving the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) by 2030 (OECD, 2025a). Against this backdrop, mobilising greater volumes of private capital aligned with the SDGs has become increasingly important (on the need for the European Union to become more adept at facilitating private investment, see the contribution by Keijzer & Furness in this volume). In particular, blended finance has frequently been promoted as one key instrument to achieve this objective (on domestic revenue mobilisation as another key approach, see the contribution by Sen & von Haldenwang in this volume). However, despite growing attention from policy-makers and development institutions, the scale of blended finance has remained well below expectations and so far made only a limited contribution to closing the SDG financing gap. Although transaction volumes increased from USD 11.5 billion in 2020 to USD 18.3 billion in 2024, they remain small relative to the estimated USD 4 trillion annual SDG financing gap (Convergence, 2025; OECD, 2025a). As such, the Sevilla Commitment (UNCTAD, 2025) calls for scaling up private capital mobilisation through blended finance and a broader use of risk-sharing instruments. This chapter discusses the benefits and limits of blended finance as well as reforms that are needed at different levels to scale up blended finance and enhance its development impact.

As governments increasingly prioritise national interests, security concerns and geopolitical competition over collective global responsibilities, traditional development finance mechanisms are being weakened, repurposed or redirected towards advancing narrow strategic objectives. The Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development projects a 23 per cent decline in official development assistance (ODA) between 2024 and 2025 (OECD, 2026). This reduction not only has immediate consequences for the lives and livelihood of millions of people in low-income countries (LICs) who depend on external assistance, but also creates uncertainty for partner countries, disrupts long-term development planning, and undermines the legitimacy and effectiveness of development cooperation. At the same time, development finance needs have risen sharply and continue to rise due to the climate crisis, the impacts of the COVID-19 pandemic, supply chain disruptions and rising food and energy prices. Together, these pressures have contributed to a projected USD 6.4 trillion financing gap for achieving the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) by 2030 (OECD, 2025a). Against this backdrop, mobilising greater volumes of private capital aligned with the SDGs has become increasingly important (on the need for the European Union to become more adept at facilitating private investment, see the contribution by Keijzer & Furness in this volume). In particular, blended finance has frequently been promoted as one key instrument to achieve this objective (on domestic revenue mobilisation as another key approach, see the contribution by Sen & von Haldenwang in this volume). However, despite growing attention from policy-makers and development institutions, the scale of blended finance has remained well below expectations and so far made only a limited contribution to closing the SDG financing gap. Although transaction volumes increased from USD 11.5 billion in 2020 to USD 18.3 billion in 2024, they remain small relative to the estimated USD 4 trillion annual SDG financing gap (Convergence, 2025; OECD, 2025a). As such, the Sevilla Commitment (UNCTAD, 2025) calls for scaling up private capital mobilisation through blended finance and a broader use of risk-sharing instruments. This chapter discusses the benefits and limits of blended finance as well as reforms that are needed at different levels to scale up blended finance and enhance its development impact.

Alors que Mahmoud Abbas devait intervenir dans le cadre de l’Assemblee générale des Nations unies, les États-Unis ont interdit l’entrée sur leur territoire à la délégation de la Palestine. Toutefois, ce 17 septembre, l’Assemblée générale a adopté une résolution autorisant le président palestinien à intervenir en visioconférence, comme l’année précédente.

Embarqué par Israël dans une guerre qui semble désormais interminable, contre l’avis de son propre cabinet, Donald Trump ne semble pourtant pas être rancunier. Pour preuve, la livraison à venir de 40 000 bombes pour un montant de 2,8 milliards de dollars à Israël.

Mon analyse dans cette vidéo.

L’article Trump n’est pas rancunier avec Netanyahou est apparu en premier sur IRIS.

Um schneller auf Bedrohungen zu reagieren, schlägt EU-Kommissionspräsidentin von der Leyen einen Alarmechanismus und einen Europäischen Sicherheitsrat vor. Das Format soll auch Partner wie Großbritannien oder Kanada einbinden.

Nous voici à sept semaines du 3 novembre. Et jamais, dans l’histoire récente des États-Unis, des élections législatives n’avaient revêtu une telle importance — ni un président sortant fait preuve d’une telle agressivité pour tenter d’en infléchir le cours.

La convention républicaine de Dallas des 9 et 10 septembre aura donné le ton. Surnommée “Trumpapalooza” par une presse médusée, cette grand-messe inédite — les républicains n’avaient jamais organisé de convention à mi-mandat — a été imposée par Donald Trump lui-même. Lorsque le speaker de la Chambre Mike Johnson lui a objecté que “ça ne se fait pas”, Trump aurait répondu : « Make it a thing. » On ne saurait mieux résumer sa conception des institutions.  

Le président américain a donc transformé ce scrutin en référendum sur sa propre personne, interpellant les électeurs depuis la scène de l’American Airlines Center : « Faites comme si j’étais sur le bulletin de vote. » Pour s’assurer que le message passe, il a promis un chèque de 5 000 dollars à chaque citoyen états-unien adulte si les républicains conservent le Congrès. Rien de moins.

Le hic, c’est que tous les indicateurs lui sont défavorables. Sa cote d’approbation est au plus bas — même au Texas, État hôte de la convention. La guerre en Iran, vécue aux États-Unis comme un véritable fiasco, a fracturé sa base MAGA. Le pouvoir d’achat s’érode chaque jour davantage. Et les sondages donnent aux démocrates une nette avance pour reprendre la majorité à la Chambre des représentants avec le Sénat en ligne de mire.

Mais Trump n’est pas homme à accepter une défaite. Et la contestation des résultats a déjà commencé — bien avant que les bureaux de vote n’aient ouvert.

Elle a débuté le 3 juillet au pied du mont Rushmore, la veille du 250e anniversaire des États-Unis, lorsque le milliardaire new-yorkais a prononcé un discours proprement lunaire dans lequel il agitait le spectre d’un « danger communiste » prêt à « submerger l’Amérique de l’intérieur. » Puis est venue, quelques jours plus tard, une allocution à la nation dans laquelle il affirmait, preuves à l’appui selon lui, que la Chine avait massivement truqué en faveur des démocrates les données électorales américaines depuis 2020. On se demandera naturellement comment, si tel était le cas, il a pu être brillamment réélu en 2024. Mais Donald Trump n’a jamais été embarrassé par ses propres contradictions.

L’objectif de ces déclarations est transparent : préparer le terrain et légitimer une contestation des résultats de novembre. Le scénario se dessine depuis des mois. Si les républicains perdent la Chambre, Trump n’acceptera pas le verdict. Il invoquera des fraudes, des ingérences étrangères, un complot « radical-gauchiste. » Il a déjà pratiqué l’exercice en 2020. Il recommencera.

Mais cette fois, il pourrait aller plus loin. Des rumeurs persistantes circulent à Washington selon lesquelles il envisagerait de proclamer l’état d’urgence en octobre — avant même la tenue du scrutin — pour en retarder l’organisation. 

Constitutionnellement, un président ne peut interférer sur le processus électoral : la date des élections est fixée par la loi, pas par décret. Mais plus de vingt gouverneurs républicains — qui contrôlent l’organisation des élections dans leurs États — ont d’ores et déjà fait savoir qu’ils suivraient les directives de Trump, y compris inconstitutionnelles. Ce seul fait devrait faire froid dans le dos.

Proclamation d’état d’urgence avant les élections, ou contestation après — dans les deux cas, le pays plongerait dans une crise institutionnelle sans précédent. Et même si Donald Trump décidait, in fine, de s’asseoir sur des résultats défavorables et de gouverner par décrets en ignorant une nouvelle majorité démocrate à la Chambre, voire au Sénat, le bras de fer institutionnel qui s’ensuivrait serait d’une violence que les États-Unis n’ont jamais connue. Des procédures d’impeachment en cascade. Des blocages budgétaires. Des batailles judiciaires portées devant une Cour suprême trumpisée. Le tout se concluant potentiellement par un remake du 6 janvier 2021, version XXL, qui cette fois-ci pourrait même inclure les parlements locaux. Bref, une Amérique en état de guerre civile plus tout à fait froide.

Tout pointe donc, d’une manière ou d’une autre, vers une nouvelle fuite en avant autoritaire. Quelle que soit l’issue du scrutin.

Celles et ceux qui affirment avec certitude que tout se passera bien, que les institutions feront digue, que les Américains voteront sereinement le 3 novembre et que la droite crypto fasciste au pouvoir acceptera sagement le résultat, sont les mêmes qui juraient en 2015 que Trump ne serait jamais élu. Les mêmes qui, après l’assaut sur le Capitole, nous assuraient qu’il finirait ses jours en prison. Les mêmes, encore, qui, en 2024, criaient à qui voulait les entendre qu’il ne pourrait jamais revenir au pouvoir —les électeurs ayant soi-disant compris la leçon.

Dans quelques semaines, l’Amérique votera —ou du moins devrait voter. Ce qui se passera ensuite, personne ne le sait vraiment. Et c’est précisément ce qui doit nous inquiéter.

Romuald Sciora, essayiste franco-américain, est directeur de l’Observatoire politique et géostratégique des États-Unis de l’IRIS. Dernières publications: « America 250, une histoire graphique des États-Unis, vol. 1, Né dans le sang » et « Lettre ouverte à Trump d’un Américain de papier » (éditions Point Nemo).

L’article Midterms 2026 : entre état d’urgence et contestation est apparu en premier sur IRIS.

Laura von Daniels (Wirtschafts- und Handelsexpertin) zur Bedeutung des Besuchs von Kanadas Premierminister bei der EU

In a changing Europe, ELIAMEP analysts assess the priorities highlighted by European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen and what was missing from her agenda. (in Greek)