This paper explores the degree to which, and how, Estonia has used the Capability Development Plan (CDP), the Coordinated Annual Review on Defence (CARD), Permanent Structured Cooperation (PESCO), and the European Defence Fund (EDF) in its national defence planning and acquisition policies and practices. Consistent with its view of the respective roles of NATO and the EU in defence, Estonia largely disregards the outputs of the CDP and CARD in its defence planning, focusing instead on national and NATO-derived requirements. Estonia is, however, a strong advocate for the role that EU support and funding can play in building Europe’s defence capabilities. It is a willing participant in PESCO and strongly encourages its defence industry to participate in EDF projects, where Estonian entities have achieved relatively high levels of success in fields such as cyber, robotics, sensors, and surveillance technologies.
À téléchargerL’article Integration of the European Capability Process in Member States’ Administration : The Estonian Case est apparu en premier sur IRIS.
By Anis Chowdhury
SYDNEY, Apr 28 2026 (IPS)
Bangladesh remains one of the most corrupt countries in the world. Its corruption perception index (CPI) score, 24, is 18 points below the global average score of 42, and 21 points lower than the Asia-Pacific region’s average of 45. One of the main sources of corruption is over-priced aid-funded projects as they lack competitive bidding. Projects funded through Government-to-Government deals drive up costs by more than 400% compared to more transparent alternatives, and around 35% of project costs are lost to corruption and inefficiency.
Anis Chowdhury
These are well-researched and well-known facts. Yet development partners continue to advance loans (packaged as aid) to Bangladesh violating the United Nations Principles of Responsible Sovereign Lending.Complicity
Development partners – traditional and non-traditional – cannot deny their complicity. The most culpable is the World Bank, followed by the Asian Development Bank (ADB) and Japan International Cooperation Agency (JICA). The shares of Bangladesh’s external debt liabilities to them are around 29%, 23% and 18%, respectively, totalling 70% of total external debt. Russia and China are Bangladesh’s main non-traditional development partners, with their respective shares of total external debt at 11% and 7%. All donors offered loans rampantly to the fascist regime to achieve their strategic and business interest, ignoring its extensive corruption and wide-spread human rights violations.
The World Bank briefly demonstrated its adherence to responsible lending principles when it cancelled $1.2 billion IDA credit for the Padma Bridge project in 2012, citing high-level corruption allegations. But its lending subsequently increased as if to expiate itself for the cancellation of the Padma Bridge loan. Mr. Hasan, one of the most corrupt ministers in the deposed Hasina Government, boasted, “once the World Bank cancelled its credit to finance Padma Bridge but now [in 2023] it has proposed to provide $2.25 billion”. To embarrass (or absolve?) the Bank, Sheikh Hasina presented a picture of the Padma Multipurpose Bridge to World Bank President David Malpass at the loan signing ceremony.
While Dhaka boasted that the Padma Bridge project was “entirely funded” by the government, China Exim Bank in fact provided $2.67 billion preferential buyer’s credit. The project costed approximately $3.6-$3.9 billion, nearly 3 times the initial estimate of $1.2 billion (the amount sought from the World Bank), largely due to corruption. The cost over-run triggered crises in both the forex and local currency markets, leading to the erosion of the country’s foreign exchange reserves.
The International Monetary Fund (IMF) provided the lifeline at the dying hours of Hasina’s kleptocratic regime when it approved $4.7 billion in January 2023 with some vague conditionality, such as raising revenues, implementing structural reforms to create a conducive environment to expand trade and foreign direct investment, deepening the financial sector, and developing human capital.
The IMF chose to turn a blind eye to widespread corruption, including the looting of banks by the regime’s cronies, gross violations of human rights and election engineering to hold on to power. Can the IMF absolve itself of responsibility for enabling the survival of the collapsing repressive and corrupt regime to commit human rights violations and abuses during the mass uprising against it a year and half later?
Old habits die hard
Corruption in Bangladesh has deep roots; corruption’s tentacles have reached almost the entire body polity of the country to become a ‘social culture’. Nevertheless, the Interim Government, led by Nobel Laureate Professor Yunus, took some bold reform initiatives to strengthen the Anti-Corruption Commission (ACC) and the integrity of the financial sector.
Thus, it is deeply disappointing that the newly elected government replaced the highly professional central bank governor with a failed business person with no background in banking or international macroeconomics within the first week of assuming power. A loan defaulter himself, the new governor immediately relaxed the loan rules. The government also amended the Interim Government’s Bank Resolution Ordinance to allow the return of the restructured banks to previous owners who looted these banks.
These changes, together with the new government’s rejection of the Interim Government’s ordinances concerning the ACC, the independence of judiciary and the human rights commission, are clear signs of the old habits’ refusal to die and the persistence of corruption.
Another old habit, i.e., addiction to loans (so-called aid), denies to die. As of April 2026, the External Relations Division (ERD) of the Ministry of Finance has been instructed to look for up to $3 billion from development partners. Interestingly, the ERD’s main activity is foreign fund searching through its ‘fund searching committee’ which meets periodically to review (code name for naming and shaming section chiefs) its monthly loan signing targets. Instead, the ERD should have been focusing on fostering and strengthening economic relations – trade and investment – as its name implies.
One direct damage of aid addiction is the lethargy in mobilising domestic resources – Bangladesh’s tax-GDP ratio (around 7%) is not only low compared with the averages for low-income countries (13.5%) and middle-income countries (18.9%), but has also been declining from its peak of around 9% in 2012 since its borrowing from development partners accelerated.
Of course, the other collateral damage is the persistence of corruption. IMF research finds that countries with “voracious” and “fractious” politics divert large amounts of public resources to unproductive transfers to powerful interest groups.
Development partners’ responsible roles
All development partners – multilateral and OECD DAC members – ostensibly are in favour of “good governance”, meaning against corruption. The World Bank “considers corruption a major obstacle… to promoting shared prosperity”. The IMF views corruption as “a major obstacle to economic growth, stability, and development”. The ADB “maintains a zero-tolerance stance against corruption, viewing it as a major obstacle to development, poverty reduction, and economic growth”.
Unfortunately, the evidence of their complicity presented above tells a different story from their avowed anti-corruption posture. This casts doubt on their role as development partners. Global evidence shows that donors do not systematically allocate aid to less corrupt countries.
The citizens of the country expect that development partners remain true to their declared anti-corruption stance and advance concessional loans provided the government commits to strict monitorable anti-corruption measures and deep structural reforms. In particular, urgently needed funds should be considered if:
To achieve deep structural reform, the focus should be on strengthening domestic revenue mobilisation and reorientation away from the aid-dependent development model to a trade and investment led development model. Therefore, development partners should open up their markets, encourage investment in productive sectors and help develop Bangladesh’s productive capacity.
On the other hand, if they remain complicit and advance loans in a highly corruption-prone environment, any future pro-people government will have the right to declare such loans as “odious” and to refuse repayment obligation.
Anis Chowdhury, Emeritus Professor, Western Sydney University (Australia). He held senior UN positions in Bangkok and New York and served as Special Assistant to the Chief Advisor for Finance (with the status and rank of State Minister) in the Professor Yunus-led Interim Government. E-mail: anis.z.chowdhury@gmail.com
IPS UN Bureau
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Credit: UNICEF/Giacomo Pirozzi
 
The niqab is a full-body Islamic piece of clothing, worn by some women in devout Muslim communities, and which covers the whole body, leaving only a narrow slit for the eyes. French full-body veil ban, violated women’s freedom of religion, says the UN Human Rights Committee.
By Lina AbiRafeh, Azza Karam and Henia Dakkak
NEW YORK, Apr 28 2026 (IPS)
The veil has been lifted—but not the one you think.
Not the veil the West has spent decades weaponizing. The veil now exposed is the one that concealed Western feminism’s selective solidarity—its silence on the women it was never truly fighting for. The “othering” of women from the South West Asian and North African region. In other words: us.
In Against White Feminism, Rafia Zakaria offers a powerful critique of how mainstream feminism often reinforces white supremacist, colonial, and patriarchal logics. The suffering of women of color becomes useful—deployable.
The image of the veiled, victimized woman, waiting to be saved, has long justified wars, interventions, and foreign policies driven not by liberation, but by imperial ambition. When these women resist on their own terms, they are ignored or discredited.
This pattern is not new. It is structural. Discrimination is embedded in the system. Palestine has simply made it undeniable. The silence that followed stripped away any remaining illusion that “we are in this together.” Feminist solidarity, it turns out, has limits—and some of us were never included.
That is the veil we lift today.
We speak as Arab women aged 50–65, activists and feminists with over a century of combined experience across 90 countries. We now live in the United States, where these contradictions are stark. We have paid a price for insisting on integrity. So have many others.
Across conversations with colleagues and communities, the message is consistent: the system is not broken—it functions exactly as designed.
Early feminist movements everywhere have grappled with patriarchy, sometimes resisting it, sometimes accommodating it. In the West, this struggle has often aligned uncomfortably with white supremacy.
In formerly colonized regions, patriarchy cannot be separated from colonialism, racism, or imperialism. These systems are intertwined; dismantling one requires confronting them all. This is where Western feminism consistently falls short.
Today, little has changed. The language is more polished. The imagery more diverse. But the underlying structures—and the values sustaining them—remain intact. Nowhere is this clearer than in how women from the South West Asian and North African region are treated by movements that claim to champion them.
The same logic that invoked Afghan women to justify military intervention now watches Palestinian women document their own destruction while offering silence—or excuses.
The data reflects this reality.
In the United States, anti-Muslim and anti-Arab discrimination rose sharply in 2024. The Council on American-Islamic Relations recorded 8,658 complaints—the highest since it began tracking in 1996. Employment discrimination alone accounted for 15.4% of cases. In 2025, these numbers climbed again. Rhetoric has consequences.
But numbers only tell part of the story. Women’s voices tell the rest.
One Arab aid worker described being sidelined after speaking publicly about Palestine following October 7:
“When I spoke about Ukrainian women, it was welcomed. When I spoke about Palestinian women, it was suppressed. I lost my work.”
Others describe being silenced on social media, accused of saying too much—or too little. Some were advised to remove their hijab for safety. Others were warned to avoid expressing views altogether to protect institutional reputations.
Yet another was denied the right to exercise leadership among her own staff, because as a Muslim from the Arab region, her ability to clearly articulate opinions, exercise judgement, and make decisions, was deemed ‘abusive’. One woman was denied employment because her call for “ceasefire and humanitarian aid” was deemed “too political.”
Western feminism often recoils at these truths. Yet Palestine is not only a political issue—it is a feminist one. All struggles against oppression are interconnected. Justice cannot be selective, even if its application often is.
Feminism demands confronting power, violence, and dehumanization wherever they occur. Palestinian women live at the intersection of multiple forms of oppression—patriarchy, occupation, militarization—and resist across all of them.
A feminism that ignores this reality is not feminism. It is complicity.
As Teju Cole describes, this is the logic of the “white savior industrial complex.” It operates through what can be called gendered orientalism: women from the South West Asian and North African region are portrayed as victims of culture, religion, or men—but rarely of bombs, sanctions, or occupation. This framing preserves the West as liberator while erasing its role in producing violence.
In the United States, the language differs but the outcome is the same. Conservatives fear Islam; liberals seek to save us from it. Both deny our agency. Both silence our voices.
We are rarely represented as we are: organizers, scholars, community leaders, mothers, activists, feminists.
This silence must be named clearly. It is not neutrality. It is complicity.
The credibility of any feminist movement rests on whether it stands with all women—especially when doing so is politically inconvenient.
We have paid the price for this failure: in erasure, in exclusion, in lost friends, in being told our grief is too complex and our politics too divisive.
What passes for solidarity is often conditional. It appears when it costs nothing and disappears when it demands accountability. Women from the South West Asia and North Africa were welcomed when our oppression reinforced dominant narratives. We became inconvenient when our liberation required confronting Western power itself.
Kimberlé Crenshaw introduced intersectionality to describe how overlapping identities produce compounded forms of discrimination. What we are witnessing now is an intersectional crisis: women from those regions face discrimination based simultaneously on race, religion, gender, and geopolitics. The very movement best equipped to confront this has gone largely silent.
From decades of work in conflict settings, one truth is clear: women from South West Asia and North Africa do not need to be singled out for ‘saving’.
We need the violence to stop.
We need colleagues to speak our names when it is difficult. We need those marching for human rights to recognize that feminism that excludes Gaza, Beirut, or Tehran is neither feminism nor human rights. It is branding—a convenient narrative that avoids confronting deeper structures of power.
Palestine has revealed a deeper truth: these systems were never designed to serve everyone. They were built by—and for—those in power.
What is required now is not reform at the margins, but a reckoning.
Solidarity demands accountability. If women’s rights are human rights, then they must apply to all women—without exception.
Lina AbiRafeh – Better4Women – Azza Karam and Henia Dakkak– Lead Integrity: House of Wisdom.
IPS UN Bureau
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By HMGS Palihakkara
COLOMBO, Sri Lanka, Apr 28 2026 (IPS)
As delegates from 191 countries, including the five permanent members of the UN Security Council, gathered Monday at UN headquarters for a month of diplomacy at the Review Conference of the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT), the stakes could hardly be higher.
They meet in the shadow of a war of choice, waged by the United States and Israel against Iran—ostensibly to prevent nuclear proliferation. It is a war steeped in tragedy and laced with irony. The human toll and global economic costs speak for themselves.
The irony is starker.
The United States, a principal depositary of the NPT, unilaterally caused the collapse of a UN-authorised agreement it had itself initiated to verify Iran’s non-nuclear status—the JCPOA. Having done that, the US, alongside Israel—a state that rejects the NPT—now bombs a hitherto NPT-compliant Iran to achieve the same end: a non-nuclear Iran.
This oxymoronic irony lies at the heart of America’s war of choice. Waged in the name of non-proliferation, it may accelerate the very outcome it seeks to avoid. By demonstrating that even a state short of nuclear weapons can be subjected to unilateral unauthorised force, Washington risks sending a stark message: survival may depend not on restraint and diplomacy, but on possession of the bomb.
This paradox exposes a longstanding fragility in the global nuclear matrix. Built around the NPT and the International Atomic Energy Agency’s safeguards regime, it rests on a bargain: non-nuclear states forgo weapons in exchange for security assurances, access to peaceful nuclear technology and good-faith progress towards disarmament.
This system, discriminatory but functional, endures only so long as it is seen as credible. When a treaty-compliant non-nuclear state becomes the target of military action over suspected ambitions, that credibility erodes.
At the centre of this erosion is the doctrine of nuclear deterrence. Before the conflict, Iran’s posture was widely understood as “hedging”—developing technical capacity without crossing the weapons threshold.
This allowed Tehran to retain leverage while avoiding the full costs of weaponisation. But hedging depends on a shared understanding: that ambiguity will be tolerated—or at least not punished with illegal use of force.
War shatters that assumption. The lesson is stark: nuclear latency does not deter attack; nuclear possession might. The comparison with North Korea is instructive. Its overt arsenal has largely insulated it from large-scale intervention despite decades of hostility with Washington.
For policymakers in Tehran—and elsewhere—the implication is difficult to ignore. If ambiguity invites vulnerability, clarity in the form of a deterrent may appear rational. Nuclear weapons risk being recast from political liabilities into strategic necessities.
The damage extends beyond Iran. The non-proliferation regime has long depended on the belief that compliance will not be punished. Yet recent history has already weakened that assumption. Ukraine relinquished the world’s third-largest nuclear arsenal in the 1990s in exchange for security assurances, only to face Russian invasion decades later.
Libya abandoned its programme and soon after saw regime collapse following the US initiated external intervention. These precedents have chipped away at trust.
Against this backdrop, war with Iran reinforces a troubling pattern: states without nuclear weapons appear vulnerable, while those with them appear secure. This is the opposite of what the non-proliferation regime is meant to uphold.
Officials at the IAEA have warned such dynamics could trigger a “domino effect”, with multiple countries reconsidering their options. Across the Middle East and beyond, governments are quietly reassessing their assumptions.
Military aggression also reshapes domestic politics in ways that complicate non-proliferation. External pressure strengthens hardliners while marginalising advocates of engagement. This is not unintended but predictable. Hardliners are less inclined toward compromise and more likely to view nuclear weapons as essential to survival.
The space for diplomacy narrows as nuclearisation gains appeal. War, in other words, transforms not just capabilities but preferences.
There is also a practical limit to military solutions. Airstrikes can damage or even ‘obliterate’ facilities, but they cannot erase knowledge. Scientific expertise cannot be bombed out of existence. Indeed, intervention may accelerate the very processes it seeks to halt by pushing them underground. A programme once visible to inspectors may become more secretive and harder to monitor.
The regional implications are equally concerning. The Middle East is already marked by rivalry and fragile security arrangements. An Iranian move towards nuclear weapons—especially one accelerated by conflict—would likely prompt countervailing responses.
Saudi Arabia and Turkey have both signalled they would not remain passive. The result could be a cascading arms race, turning an already volatile region into a multipolar nuclear environment.
This is a classic security dilemma: one state’s attempt to enhance its security leaves others feeling less secure, prompting reciprocal measures that leave all worse off. By seeking to eliminate a potential threat through unauthorised force, the United States may multiply such threats. Instead of one threshold state, the region could face several.
These dynamics point to a deeper flaw: the belief that military force can resolve nuclear proliferation. Nuclear ambition is not merely technical; it is a political response to insecurity. Bombing addresses symptoms, not causes.
Without addressing the security concerns that drive states towards nuclear capabilities, coercion alone cannot produce lasting results. All successful non-proliferation goals-ranging from NPT to JCPOA- were reached through calculated diplomatic negotiations, not by military means.
Past experience underscores this. Diplomatic agreements, however imperfect, have constrained nuclear programmes. The collapse of the JCPOA removed mechanisms that had limited Iran’s activities. In the absence of a credible diplomatic alternative, military action amounts to little more than a delay—buying time at the cost of increasing long-term incentives to pursue nuclear weapons.
The war also risks reinforcing the perception that international law is subordinate to power politics. If rules can be bypassed by powerful states, weaker ones are unlikely to rely on them. Instead, they may turn to capabilities that cannot easily be neutralised. Nuclear weapons become not just tools of deterrence, but symbols of sovereignty and survival.
Perhaps the most enduring impact will be psychological. States learn from precedent. From Iraq to Libya to Ukraine—and now Iran—a pattern appears: vulnerability invites intervention, while nuclear capability deters it. This conclusion may be uncomfortable, but it reflects a cold logic of international politics. Once such a perception takes hold, it is difficult to reverse.
For this reason, the war may prove a watershed moment not only for Iran but for the global non-proliferation regime. It alters perceptions of risk and security in ways that favour proliferation over restraint. Even states with no immediate intention of pursuing nuclear weapons may begin hedging against a future in which international guarantees appear unreliable.
The tragedy is that a policy intended to prevent proliferation may instead accelerate it. By undermining trust, empowering hardliners and reinforcing deterrence logic, the United States risks achieving the opposite of its stated aim. Even if military action sets back Iran’s programme in the short term, the long-term consequences may be far more damaging.
A more secretive, more determined and more widely emulated pursuit of nuclear weapons would not represent a victory for non-proliferation. It would mark its gradual unravelling—an “own goal” in geopolitical terms.
If the aim of non-proliferation is to reduce the role of nuclear weapons, this conflict points in the opposite direction. It suggests that security cannot be reliably guaranteed by treaties or norms alone, and that in an uncertain world the ultimate insurance policy remains the bomb.
That message will resonate far beyond Iran. Its consequences may shape nuclear choices for decades.
The question the Iran war poses to the world is not polemical but stark: is it a new normal that a depositary state of the NPT and a covert nuclear power not party to the treaty can preclude diplomacy and bomb their way to non-proliferation?
If the current NPT Review Conference in New York, like its predecessor conferences, fails to reach consensus on the way forward for the Treaty’s three pillars—non-proliferation, peaceful nuclear cooperation based on sovereign equality, and disarmament—it will amount to an answer in the affirmative, to that question. This may then signal the onset of the treaty’s terminal decay.
HMGS Palihakkara is a former Sri Lankan Ambassador to United Nations; one time Chair /Member of UNSG Advisory Board on Disarmament; a member of the UN Intergovernmental Panel updating the ’Comprehensive Study on Nuclear Weapons’; Advisor to the President of the 1995 NPT Review & Extension Conference.
IPS UN Bureau
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By Jomo Kwame Sundaram and Nurina Malek
KUALA LUMPUR, Malaysia, Apr 28 2026 (IPS)
The January 2026 US National Defense Strategy (NDS) departs significantly from those preceding it, including from Trump’s first term. Is it deliberately misleading? Or is actual policy, including war, being driven by other considerations?
Jomo Kwame Sundaram
National Defense StrategyMuch like the latest National Security Strategy (NSS), released by Secretary of State and National Security Adviser Marco Rubio in December 2025, the NDS claims to be about putting ‘America First’.
Both documents promise ‘no more business as usual’. They claim to change decades of strategy, supposedly in the national interest. Unlike earlier US military blueprints, the NDS is filled with vague rhetoric and eschews interventions abroad.
But in Trump 2.0’s first year alone, the US bombed ten countries, threatening at least four more, all in the Americas. Despite scant mention in both documents, the US-Israel war on Iran resumed on 28 February!
Europe
The NDS claims the US is reducing its direct military role in Europe but still wants to be influential.
It pledges to remain central to NATO “even as we calibrate US force posture and activities in the European theater” to meet US priorities.
Nurina Malek
Noting “Russia will remain a persistent but manageable threat to NATO’s eastern members for the foreseeable future”, the NDS insists NATO allies must “take primary responsibility for Europe’s conventional defense”.The NDS blows hot and cold on Europe’s aggressive support for Ukraine’s Zelensky, envisaging a reduced troop presence on NATO’s borders with Ukraine.
Many European allies complain the Trump administration has created a ‘security vacuum’ by leaving Europe to confront Russia with uncertain US support.
They also complain about Secretary Pete Hegseth’s insistence on “credible options to guarantee US military and commercial access to key terrain”. The NDS insists on more than access to Greenland and the Panama Canal.
Issued days after Trump claimed he had a “framework of a future deal” on Arctic security with NATO chief Mark Rutte, he insisted it ensured the US “total access” to Greenland, long a territory of NATO ally, Denmark.
However, Danish officials insisted formal negotiations had not yet begun. Trump also threatened European nations opposing his Greenland plan with tariffs.
Western Hemisphere
The NDS supports the NSS and Trump’s ‘Donroe doctrine’ focus on the Western Hemisphere, envisaging the Americas as the US backyard.
In his January Davos speech, Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney noted that recent US actions are disrupting established international norms.
The NDS was issued three days later, after a week of tensions between the White House and its Western allies. Cooperation with the Americas, including Canada, is conditional, to “ensure that they respect and do their part to defend our shared interests”.
It warns the US will “actively and fearlessly defend America’s interests throughout the Western Hemisphere. And where they do not, we will stand ready to take focused, decisive action that concretely advances US interests.”
Trump had declared the US should retake Panama and its Canal, accusing the government of ceding control to China. Later, however, Trump was more ambiguous about ‘taking back’ both the country and the canal.
Many also doubt Trump’s intentions in kidnapping Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro and his wife, ostensibly for trial on drug charges in the US.
Asia-Pacific
The previous NDS, issued in 2022 under then-President Joe Biden, had deemed China the US’s principal threat. Biden also embraced Trump 1.0’s Indo-Pacific alliance to encircle China.
In contrast, the new NDS describes China as an established power in the Indo-Pacific region that only needs to be discouraged from dominating the US and its allies.
The goal “is not to dominate China; nor is it to strangle or humiliate them… This does not require regime change or some other existential struggle…President Trump seeks a stable peace, fair trade, and respectful relations with China”.
The NDS even proposes “a wider range of military-to-military communications” with Chinese counterparts! The U-turn followed the administration’s retreat from its threatened tit-for-tat tariff escalation after China’s successful retaliation.
Biden’s 2022 NDS promised the US would “support Taiwan’s asymmetric self-defense”. The new NDS offers no such assurances to the self-governing island province of China, which Beijing warns it will take by force if necessary.
The NDS also calls for “a sharp shift – in approach, focus, and tone”, insisting US allies must take more responsibility for countering adversaries such as China, Russia and North Korea.
It insists, “South Korea is capable of taking primary responsibility for deterring North Korea with critical but more limited US support”.
Cutting costs of empire
Like Trump, the new NDS wants allies to pay much more for US ‘protection’.
It echoes his frequent criticisms of allies for taking advantage of previous administrations to subsidise their defence and being ungrateful for US protection.
But the terms of such subordination remain ambiguous and arbitrary, even extortionate and corrupt. Gulf monarchies may now regret their generous donations to the president, apparently to little avail so far.
Trump’s treatment of allies, the Netanyahu-led war on Iran, and continuing US-led efforts to ‘contain’ China suggest both documents offer poor guidance to knowing and understanding, let alone anticipating, US policies abroad.
Nurina Malek is an economics graduate of the University of Wisconsin-Madison, currently working on policy research at the Khazanah Research Institute.
IPS UN Bureau
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