In the first week of February 2026, the geography of human intelligence officially detached from the Earth. With a landmark filing to the Federal Communications Commission (FCC) on February 4, SpaceX proposed a network of one million solar-powered satellites designed not for communication, but for computation. This “Orbital Data Center” system, bolstered by the recent SpaceX-xAI merger, aims to move massive AI workloads into Low Earth Orbit (LEO). The rationale is a matter of cold physics; Earth is running out of “cool.”

The “Cloud” has always been a misnomer, usually a marketing term designed to make us forget about the hum of massive server farms and the millions of gallons of water required to cool them. But as 2026 begins, the terrestrial Cloud has hit a wall. Between the staggering electricity demands of generative AI and the resistance from local communities facing water shortages, data centers have become an environmental and political liability. Space, however, with its 24/7 solar abundance and the infinite cryogenic sink of the vacuum is the only remaining frontier for the next gigawatt-scale supercomputer.

Yet, as our digital infrastructure leaves the atmosphere, it enters a legal vacuum. We are witnessing the birth of “Digital Soil,” which can be broadly defined as a new form of territory where power is exercised not by planting flags, but by controlling the orbital GPU clusters that process a nation’s intelligence.

The Jurisdictional Mirage

We are currently navigating the most advanced technology in human history using a legal map drawn in 1967. The Outer Space Treaty (OST), the “Constitution” of the stars, was designed to prevent nuclear silos on the Moon, not to regulate the flow of encrypted petabytes.

The core of the crisis lies in Article VI of the OST, which holds that a satellite remains under the “authorization and continuing supervision” of its Launching State. In a world of simple hardware, this was a clear line of liability. In 2026, it creates what we can call a “Jurisdictional Mirage.”

Consider the legal superposition of data on a SpaceX orbital server where the United States retains physical “jurisdiction and control” over the satellite hardware under the OST. Simultaneously, under Earth-bound laws such as India’s Digital Personal Data Protection (DPDP) Act or Europe’s General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR), the data itself remains subject to the sovereignty of the user’s home nation. If a data breach occurs 500 kilometers above the Earth, which regulator has the standing to issue a warrant? A terrestrial court cannot seize an orbital server, and the Launching State has no treaty obligation to enforce foreign privacy laws. We are inadvertently building “Legal Ghost Ships,” which are high-performance processors that operate in a state of permanent “offshore” status, beyond the reach of any democratic audit or subpoena.

Controlling the ‘Digital Soil’ of the Stars

International law prohibits nations from claiming territory in space. However, power in 2026 is no longer about land; it is about infrastructure. Control the systems that process intelligence, route communications, and manage autonomous operations—traditional territorial sovereignty becomes secondary.

This is the emergence of Digital Soil, a new form of territory defined not by geography, but by control over computational foundations. Orbital AI systems are uniquely positioned to escape traditional state pressure. They cannot be easily shut down, sanctioned, or inspected. They exist in a permanent condition of functional “offshoring,” shielded by distance and legal ambiguity.

By situating the world’s most powerful AI models in an orbital environment where no single nation can exercise clear oversight, tech giants are effectively seceding from the terrestrial social contract. They are establishing a digital territory that is immune to the “kill-switches” of sovereign states. For emerging economies and Global South democracies, the implications are severe. If orbital infrastructure becomes the backbone of global AI, exclusion from its governance will translate directly into a new form of digital dependency.

The Risk of the ‘Lunar Jurisdictional Trap’

This crisis intensifies as we push toward permanent lunar operations. The “Lunar Jurisdictional Trap” is the inevitable result of this governance gap. Future settlements will rely entirely on orbital AI for oxygen regulation, navigation, and resource allocation.

If this infrastructure is governed by a patchwork of 20th-century treaties, we risk a “Winner-Takes-All” scenario. A data blockade in the Cislunar Maritime Corridor which will be the strategic shipping lane of the 21st-century would be as consequential as a naval blockade was in the age of sail. We are sleepwalking into a future where the most vital resources of the space age are held in private, unaccountable hands, shielded by the very treaties meant to keep space “the province of all mankind.”

A Manifesto for Functional Neutrality

We cannot wait for a “Space GDPR” that will take decades to ratify. We need a principle of “Functional Neutrality” —rules that apply to what systems do, not where they are physically located.

First, the United Nations must designate specific orbital strata as “International Data Commons.” Much like the High Seas or Antarctica, these zones should be protected by multilateral frameworks that prevent any single nation or corporation from exercising unilateral control over critical computational infrastructure. These zones would ensure that the “Digital Soil” of our future remains a global public good.

Second, several regulators privately acknowledge that no existing inspection or seizure mechanism applies once computation leaves the atmosphere, for a simple reason: a regulator cannot physically board an orbital server to conduct an audit. Accountability must therefore become architectural. International law should mandate “Agentic Compliance,” which would include cryptographically secured observer algorithms built into the hardware to provide real-time, verifiable proof of compliance with Earth-bound privacy laws. This is the only way to pierce the veil of the “Legal Ghost Ship.”

The Final Frontier of Accountability

The migration of our digital lives to the stars is a technical necessity. We cannot sustain the AI revolution on a planet already struggling with climate stress and resource scarcity. But as we reach for the stars, we must not leave our hard-won principles of justice, sovereignty, and human rights on the launchpad.

We are currently architecting the foundation of a multi-planetary society. The question is not whether humanity will reach the Moon and beyond. It is whether, by the time we do, the most vital systems sustaining that future will already be governed by the highest bidder rather than the public interest. If we fail to secure the digital soil of our future now, we may discover too late that sovereignty was lost, not through conquest, but through neglect.

———

Vishal Sharma is an AI governance advocate who specializes in data privacy and cyber law. He holds engineering and law degrees from NALSAR University in Hyderabad

This piece first appeared March 12 in JURIST. Used with permission.

Image: NASA via FenWiki

From our Daily Report:

Native, ecology groups sue over SpaceX explosion
CounterVortex, May 7, 2023

Is Elon Musk unstoppable?
CounterVortex, Sept. 11, 2024

Audio:

Podcast: lunar hubris and the end of the Earth
​CounterVortex, Feb. 8, 2026

See also:

THE LUNAR JURISDICTIONAL TRAP
by Vishal Sharma, JURIST
CounterVortex, February 2026

—————————-

Reprinted by CounterVortex, March 16, 2026
Used with permission.

by Mohamed Arafa, JURIST

The most striking aspect of the Trump administration’s legal argument for the attack on Iran is that, in practical terms, it simply does not exist. When President Donald Trump announced that the United States was “at war,” he claimed the strikes were intended to eliminate “imminent threats from the Iranian regime,” yet offered no evidence to support that assertion. The historical incidents he cited—the 1979-1981 takeover of the US Embassy in Tehran, the 1983 bombing of US Marine barracks in Lebanon, and the 2000 attack on the USS Cole—occurred decades ago. Trump even suggested that Iran’s leaders “knew [about] and were probably involved” in these events, while emphasizing that the US had “completely and totally obliterated the regime’s nuclear program” last year. Beyond these historical episodes, the administration presented no proof of any current, imminent threat from Iran. Under international law, imminence requires a threat that is instant, overwhelming, and leaves no alternative means of response—a standard plainly not met here. Particularly alarming is the explicit targeting of foreign leaders. The killing of Iranian Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei came less than two months after US forces attempted to seize Nicolás Maduro in Venezuela, signaling a troubling expansion of precedent for US interventions abroad. Deliberately targeting heads of state is prohibited under international law and the New York Convention, to protect political stability and to avoid escalating conflicts unnecessarily.

Domestically, these strikes violate multiple legal principles. The US Constitution explicitly grants Congress—not the president—the power to declare war. While Article II allows some presidential authority to respond to direct attacks on US territory or against its armed forces, no such attack occurred from Iran. The War Powers Resolution of 1973 further restricts presidential military action to cases involving (1) a declaration of war, (2) explicit congressional authorization, or (3) a national emergency created by an attack on US forces. Trump did not argue that any of these conditions applied, effectively bypassing the constitutional checks intended to prevent unilateral executive war-making. Even in comparison with prior presidents, this approach is exceptional. Historically, US presidents have occasionally acted abroad without full legal authority, but Congress has never pursued impeachment solely on these grounds. Trump’s defenders now lean on historical precedent, claiming prior administrations acted similarly; yet in every instance, some form of domestic or international legal rationale existed, unlike the speculative preemptive rationale offered here.

Internationally, the strikes violate foundational norms. The UN Charter prohibits the use of force against the territorial integrity or political independence of any state except when authorized by the Security Council or undertaken in legitimate self-defense. No Security Council authorization was obtained. UN Secretary-General António Guterres condemned the strikes as violations of the Charter. Targeting Khamenei and other Iranian leaders contravenes long-standing international prohibitions against political assassinations. Even under US law, successive executive orders ban political assassinations—though past presidents have sometimes found ways to skirt these rules, they remain a clear benchmark of legality. The joint US-Israeli strikes—dubbed operations “Shield of Judah” and “Epic Fury,” respectively—further violated international norms. They came amid ongoing US-Iran nuclear negotiations in Geneva—only two days after the most intensive round had concluded. Israel described the strikes as “preventive,” aimed at stopping Iran from developing a potential threat. Yet preventive war has little basis under international law. Article 2(4) of the UN Charter explicitly prohibits force against another state’s territorial integrity or political independence. The narrow conditions for anticipatory self-defense under the Caroline Doctrine—threats that are instant, overwhelming, and leaving no choice of means—were clearly absent on February 28, 2026.

The strikes have been explicitly framed as regime change. Trump encouraged Iranians to “take over your government,” while Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu described the goal as removing the “existential threat” of the Iranian regime. Forcible regime change violates the foundational principles of state sovereignty and non-intervention under international law. The deliberate targeting of Iran’s leadership, combined with attacks on military infrastructure, risks creating a power vacuum and exacerbating human suffering. Reports of airstrikes on a school in Minab, killing at least 100 girls aged seven to twelve, underscore the humanitarian consequences of unplanned regime change. Unlike in the cases of Libya under Muammar Qaddafi or Iraq under Saddam Hussein, no semblance of a post-conflict stabilization plan exists for Iran, heightening the likelihood of chaos and prolonged violence.

Diplomatically, the strikes are equally concerning. Launching military operations during active negotiations violates the principle of good faith in Article 2(2) of the UN Charter. Iranian officials have denounced the attacks as a violation of international law. The global response has been revealing: while Australia’s Prime Minister Anthony Albanese tacitly supported the strikes, and France, Germany, and the UK offered noncommittal statements urging negotiation, Russia and China openly condemned the attacks. The erosion of the rules-based international order is therefore accelerating.

From a humanitarian perspective, justifications for intervention fail under scrutiny. Some have cited Kosovo in 1999, where NATO intervened to halt human rights abuses. While the NATO campaign was ultimately judged illegal, it was considered morally legitimate because all diplomatic avenues had been exhausted, and the operation effectively protected civilians. In contrast, a nuclear deal with Iran was reportedly within reach just hours before Trump launched the strikes, mediated by Oman’s Foreign Minister Badr bin Hamad Albusaidi. Diplomatic channels were still viable, and the US had not demanded an end to human rights violations as part of ongoing negotiations.

Claims of an imminent nuclear threat are demonstrably false. The Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action (JCPOA) negotiated by President Barack Obama had already curtailed Iran’s nuclear program, US intelligence suggested it would take years for Iran to build a weapon, and prior US-Israeli strikes had delayed progress. Even if these claims were accurate, international law requires immediacy for anticipatory self-defense, which was absent. Broadening preemptive war to include potential future threats risks destabilizing global norms, a warning illustrated by Vladimir Putin’s repeated pretextual justifications for aggression in Ukraine.

The 9-11 attacks fundamentally reshaped US legal and military frameworks. On September 11, 2001, nearly 3,000 people were killed in coordinated terrorist attacks, prompting Congress to pass the Authorization for Use of Military Force (AUMF) on September 18, 2001. This law granted President George W. Bush broad authority to “use all necessary and appropriate force” against those responsible or harboring perpetrators. The AUMF provided a clear legal foundation for US military action abroad, grounded in a direct attack on the nation, and remains a cornerstone of US counterterrorism law. By contrast, Trump’s Iran strikes had no comparable legal trigger. No attack on US forces had occurred, and Congress was not consulted. Invoking the 2001 AUMF to justify unilateral strikes against Iran would dangerously expand its reach, undermining constitutional checks and setting a precedent for unbounded presidential war-making. The Iraq War that began in 2003 further illuminates the contrast. President Bush sought and received specific Congressional authorization, despite the controversy over intelligence regarding weapons of mass destruction. Although the intelligence was later discredited, the existence of formal authorization distinguished the Iraq War from a purely unilateral executive action. Trump sought no equivalent legal pathway for his war on Iran. While the 2001 AUMF responded directly to a national catastrophe, Trump’s justification relied on speculative threats and ambitions for regime change.

Beyond domestic law, 9-11 shaped US interpretations of pre-emptive self-defense under international law. The Bush administration argued that action against al-Qaeda and affiliates was justified under Article 51 of the UN Charter. That principle, however, is limited to actual or imminent armed attacks. Preemptive action against Iraq or Iran, where no imminent attack occurred, stretches this principle to its breaking point. The immediacy criterion—the essence of legitimate anticipatory self-defense—was not met in Trump’s Iran strikes, as intelligence reports indicated Iran remained years from building a nuclear weapon. The political legitimacy granted after 9-11 also matters. Post-9-11, Congress and the public broadly supported decisive action because a tangible attack had occurred. Trump’s unilateral strikes, by contrast, lack a comparable factual basis, relying on speculative threats and regime change ambitions, making them legally and politically precarious. Historical precedent illustrates that excessive executive war-making without clear authorization can produce long-term instability and weaken both domestic and international norms.

The strikes’ human toll has been stark. Beyond the deaths of Khamenei and other leaders, civilian casualties—including reports of over 100 children killed in Minab—highlight the immediate consequences even of ostensibly regime-targeted strikes. Without a coherent post-conflict stabilization plan, the region faces risks of chaos, insurgency, and humanitarian catastrophe, echoing Libya post-Qaddafi and Iraq post-Saddam.

Globally, these strikes signify a dangerous erosion of the rules-based international order. When powerful states act unilaterally, weaponizing claims of prevention or humanitarian need, they undermine UN norms, weaken collective security mechanisms, and encourage other states to adopt similar pretextual reasoning. The resulting instability threatens not only Iran but broader regional and global security. The joint military offensive against Iran has triggered a sharp escalation in Middle East tensions, drawing in multiple countries and military assets across the region. In parallel, Israel has also intensified strikes against Hezbollah militia positions in Lebanon, widening the geographic scope of the confrontation. In response to those strikes, Iran has launched waves of ballistic missiles and armed drones targeting US-linked military bases and installations (including embassies and consulates) in Gulf states such as Qatar, Bahrain, Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, the UAE, and others that host American forces, marking one of the most direct attacks on US assets in decades. These exchanges have disrupted key infrastructure, closed shipping routes through the Strait of Hormuz, caused civilian as well as military casualties, and raised fears among Gulf Cooperation Council states about becoming battlegrounds in a broader conflict. The cycle of strikes and counter-strikes— encompassing both conventional and asymmetric tactics—has heightened instability across the Persian Gulf, pushed energy markets into volatility, and prompted urgent calls from international actors for de-escalation to prevent a wider regional war.

The consequences of these strikes will not be contained to the present moment. Iran’s future is likely to be shaped by multiple, overlapping pressures—political, military, and economic—as a result of the ongoing conflict with the US and Israel. The assassination of key leaders and sustained military pressure could fuel internal political instability, prompting debates within the government and the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps over how to respond, and potentially strengthening hardline factions. At the same time, discussions about possible regime change remain highly uncertain. While mounting economic strain, public dissatisfaction, and elite fragmentation could generate internal pressure for transformation, external military attacks often consolidate nationalist support around existing authorities rather than weaken them. Moreover, Iran’s security institutions are structured to preserve regime continuity, making sudden collapse unlikely without significant internal fractures among political, military, and clerical elites. Analysts and scholars also warn that attacks on nuclear and military infrastructure could reinforce Tehran’s determination to pursue nuclear capabilities as a deterrent, particularly if diplomatic channels deteriorate further. Meanwhile, the already fragile economy—burdened by recession, inflation, sanctions, and social discontent—may deteriorate further, increasing public hardship and the risk of unrest. Regionally, continued confrontation could intensify proxy conflicts and deepen polarization across the Middle East. Taken together, these dynamics point to a future marked less by clear transformation than by prolonged uncertainty, volatility, and strategic recalibration, with significant implications for both Iran’s domestic trajectory and broader regional stability.

The Trump administration’s strikes on Iran constitute violations of both US domestic law and international law. Congress was bypassed, the War Powers Resolution ignored, UN mandates flouted, and established prohibitions against targeting heads of state and engaging in preventive war disregarded. Historical precedents—9-11, the Iraq War, and the AUMF—highlight how legal frameworks were previously employed to justify military action; none were present in this instance. The human, regional, and geopolitical costs are immense. Ultimately, the law exists not merely as formalism but as a check on executive overreach and a safeguard for human life and international stability. The Trump administration’s actions demonstrate the dangers of ignoring these safeguards. If unchallenged, they set a precedent for future unilateral interventions with profound legal, moral, and geopolitical consequences. Trump told the New York Times in January that he is driven by his own morality. “I don’t need international law. I’m not looking to hurt people,” the US president said at that time. The stakes could not be higher, and the erosion of the rule of law—domestic and international—has already begun.

———

Mohamed Arafa is a professor of law at Egypt’sn Alexandria University Faculty of Law.

This piece first appeared March 6 in JURIST. Used with permission.

Photo: Tomahawk missile launched from destroyer USS Spruance during Operation Epic Fury
Credit: NAVCENT Public Affairs via Wikimedia Commons

From our Daily Report:

US Congress rejects war powers resolution on Iran
CounterVortex, March 6, 2026

UN demands civilian protection amid Middle East escalation
CounterVortex, March 5, 2026

Did US-Israel attack on Iran abort nuclear deal?
CounterVortex, March 1, 2026

See also:

THE TRAGEDY OF AHWAZ
Forgotten by History and the World
by Rahim Hamid, Dur Untash Studies Centre
CounterVortex, September 2021

—————————-

Reprinted by CounterVortex, March 7, 2026
Used with permission.

by Vishal Sharma, JURIST

The recent unveiling of Russia’s Selena project, a nuclear power plant slated for the lunar surface by 2035 under the joint Russo-Chinese International Lunar Research Station program, has been hailed as an unprecedented ambition of engineering. But beneath the proposed cooling towers lies a volatile reality. We are about to place the highest-stakes technologies of the 21st century—autonomous artificial intelligence (AI) and nuclear fission—on a legal foundation that has been frozen since the Cold War.

As we transition from brief exploration to permanent cislunar* infrastructure, we are entering a Jurisdictional Overlap. Here, the aging mandates of the 1967 Outer Space Treaty (OST) are colliding with the digital-age realities of data sovereignty and AI liability. If we do not close this gap, the Moon won’t just be a frontier; it will be a legal black site.

Sovereignty Friction: Article II vs. Article VIII

The central tension lies in the structural contradiction of the OST. Article II forbids “National Appropriation,” decreeing the Moon as the province of all mankind. However, Article VIII grants States jurisdiction and control over their registered objects and personnel.

This creates a Legal Enclave problem. If a Russian nuclear reactor is managed by an autonomous AI, does the digital soil** it occupies become a de facto extension of Russian territory? This isn’t just theoretical. If we apply Russian Federal Law No. 152-FZ (on Personal Data) to the health and biometric data of a multinational crew on that base, we risk a creeping sovereignty. Under 152-FZ, personal data of citizens must be processed using databases located within Russian territory, a requirement that, when applied to a lunar base, effectively turns the province of humanity into a sovereign data colony.

Algorithm as Actor: The Liability Gap

The Selena project is designed for autonomy, introducing a terrifying gap in the 1972 Liability Convention. International space law differentiates between Absolute Liability under Article II (for damage on Earth) and Fault-Based Liability under Article III (for damage in space).

Fault is a human-centric legal construct requiring proof of negligence or intent. How does a claimant prove fault when the damage—perhaps a radiological leak—is the result of a black-box AI algorithm? Under current frameworks, a State might argue that an unpredictable algorithmic error does not constitute fault, effectively shielding themselves from the consequences of a lunar catastrophe. We are in desperate need of a Strict Liability standard for autonomous space systems; under Article VI of the OST, states already bear international responsibility for national activities, yet we have no mechanism to hold an algorithm accountable.

Cyber-Kinetic Risks and the New Lex Spacialis

The liability gap becomes even more precarious when we recognize that these AI systems do not operate in isolation. We must stop viewing the Moon as a distant rock and start viewing it as a critical data environment. A nuclear reactor on the lunar surface is, in essence, the ultimate high-stakes IoT (Internet of Things) device.

A cyber-breach of a lunar power grid isn’t a mere data leak; it is a kinetic event. It could render safety zones uninhabitable for centuries, violating the Article IX mandate to avoid harmful contamination. The traditional silos of Space Law and Tech Law are no longer sufficient. We are witnessing the birth of Cislunar Cyber Law, where the integrity of a firewall is as vital to life as the integrity of a spacesuit.

A Call for Legal Architects

Cislunar space is currently a gray zone of data privacy and algorithmic unaccountability. We cannot rely on the goodwill of spacefaring nations to fill this void.

The question for the legal profession is no longer if we will practice law on the Moon, but how we will protect the integrity of the digital frontier. We need a new Lex Spacialis, one that moves beyond the limitation of weapons and begins the far more difficult task of governing the data, the AI, and the nuclear heart of our next civilization.

The vacuum of space is being filled. The only question is whether it will be filled by the rule of law or the rule of the strongest signal.

* Cislunar: concerning the space between Earth and the Moon, where satellites and space stations orbit, and transport routes lie.

** Digital soil: De facto natonal territory, even where ostensibly prohibited by the Outer Space Treaty, on the basis of ownership of digital infrastructure placed in the area.

———

Vishal Sharma is an AI governance advocate who specializes in data privacy and cyber law. He holds engineering and law degrees from NALSAR University in Hyderabad

This piece first appeared Jan. 9 in JURIST. Used with permission.

Photo: NASA via Surfer Today

Related:

Musk merges SpaceX and xAI firms, plans for space-based AI data centres
Al Jazeera, Feb. 3, 2026

The US really wants a nuclear reactor on the moon by 2030
Space.com, Jan. 13, 2026

Trump orders return to Moon by 2028, lunar base with nuclear power by 2030
Aerotime, Dec. 19, 2025

From our Daily Report:

Doomsday Clock moves: 85 seconds to midnight
CounterVortex, Feb. 2, 2026

Russia vetoes UN resolution to bar nuclear arms in space
CounterVortex, April 27, 2024

Audio:

Podcast: artificial intelligence and the abolition of humanity
​CounterVortex, July 22, 2023

Podcast: against space imperialism
​CounterVortex, Oct. 23, 2022

Podcast: US robo-imperialism hands off Mars!
​CounterVortex, Feb. 23, 2021

See also:

NAGASAKI CALL FOR NUCLEAR ABOLITION
by Ramesh Jaura, IDN
CounterVortex, December 2013

DEATH OF LITERACY: DIGITAL TOTALITARIANISM
by Bill Weinberg, CounterVortex
CounterVortex, February 2015

—————————-

Reprinted by CounterVortex, Feb. 3, 2026
Used with permission.

Trouble-torn Burma (also known as Myanmar or Brahmadesh) is heading for the first general elections since the military coup of February 2021 that ousted a democratically elected government. The seating of a new parliament will mark the re-opening of the bicameral body which was suspended when the military junta seized power. However, several prominent political parties will be barred from the three-phase polling to start on December 28— including Aung San Suu Kyi’s National League for Democracy (NLD), which won the last general elections held in November 2020. The new elections, with only those parties approved by the military junta participating, are rejected by the opposition as a “sham.” Results are expected by the end of January.

The Buddhist-majority Southeast Asian nation of nearly 55 million people is in the midst of a civil war, with the Tatmadaw, or national army, under junta leader Gen. Min Aung Hlaing fighting a network of popular militias—resulting in thousands killed, some hundred thousand detained, and millions displaced. In “Operation 1027,” launched in October 2023 by an alliance of rebel groups, junta forces have faced humiliating defeats, and by now half of the Burmese national territory is outside of the military’s control. Voting in rebel-held localities will be in most cases impossible; hence a free, fair and comprehensive election in the Land of Golden Pagodas still remains elusive.

Indeed, the junta-appointed Union Election Commission (UEC) is preparing polls only for 274 of the country’s 330 townships. Local authorities have pledged not to participate in the polls in substantial parts of Sagaing, Mandalay, Ayeyarwady, Tanintharyi, Shan, Kachin, Kayah, Kayin, Mon, Rakhine, Chin and other states and territories. Additionally, millions of Burmese nationals have fled the country and are now living abroad, with some four million reportedly taking shelter in Thailand in alone.

The UEC has de-registered a number of political parties, citing failure to fulfill necessary criteria such as meeting a certain number of members and maintaining functional offices. Nearly 40 political parties, including the NLD, did not even re-register with the electoral authority, as the crackdown on pro-democracy resistance continues. There are over 22,000 political prisoners, including U Win Myint, the presdient overthrown in the 2021 coup, who faces a multi-year prison sentence for allegedly violating restrictions on public gatherings by calling demonstrations. Nobel peace laureate Suu Kyi, who had been imprisoned or held under house arrest for some 15 years for her pro-democracy activities before the political opening of 2010, was also detained after the 2021 coup and convicted on dubious charges, such as violating the Official Secrets Act by speaking with journalists. She was likewise sentenced to a lengthy term, which will amount to a life sentence given her age. She was officially transfered to house arrest for health reasons last year, but rights monitors are skeptical that the transfer in fact took place.

The state-run Global New Light of Myanmar news agency recently reported that the State Administration Council (as the military regime is officially dubbed) has enacted a new election law imposing harsh penalties of up to seven years imprisonment for any speech, incitement, protest, or distribution of literature against the electoral process. The newly enacted repressive law also imposes heavy punishments for damaging ballot papers, vandalizing polling stations, or “intimidating” candidates, election workers or voters. Burmese citizens who criticized the electoral process on social media have been sentenced to years in prison.

A Yangon-based political activist, who spoke on condition of anonymity, discussed the conditions that make a credible election impossible: “Civilian casualties exceed 7,500 and 3.6 million people have been displaced since 2021 as the government forces exercised indiscriminate repression, including air-strikes on crowded places, hospitals and even schools. Many pro-democracy leaders have left for the neighboring countries like Thailand, China, Bangladesh and India to escape the military atrocities…. The country is reeling under a severe economic crisis because of the financial mismanagement of the military rulers.”

Nevertheless, military dictator Hlaing and his associates are attempting to showcase the exercise as a successful venture, with an aim of winning legitimacy for what the opposition calls their unlawful power-grab. A recent editorial in Mizzima newspaper—once among the country’s most highly circulated and influential, but now published only online and from exile—stated that the junta is seeking “to consolidate its rule through a veneer of electoral legitimacy.”

Only six political parties have been allowed to field candidates in the parliamentary polls: the Tatmadaw-aligned Union Solidarity & Development Party (USDP), the National Unity Party, the People’s Party, the People’s Pioneer Party, the Myanmar Farmers Development Party and the Shan & Nationalities Democratic Party. Some 50 other smaller political entities are taking part in regional assemblies.

Critics and observers both within and outside Burma argue that any election held under the current circumstances cannot be inclusive or credible. Since the 2021 coup, thousands of political activists, journalists, and ordinary citizens have been arrested, and many have been tortured or killed. A parallel National Unity Government (NUG), primarily formed by the elected representatives ousted in 2021, has urged the international community to denounce the junta’s “sham” election and not to send poll-watchers to the country. Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) leaders, often criticized for their feeble voices against the Burmese junta, has decided not to send election observers from the member countries.

The group ASEAN Parliamentarians for Human Rights (APHR) has urged ASEAN leaders to reject the elections entirely.

The Geneva-based global media rights body Press Emblem Campaign (PEC) has urged the military regime to release all detained media professionals, and called for abolition of the new election interference law that allows prosecution of journalists and social media users. The PEC finds that over 200 journalists have been detained since the 2021 coup, with nearly 40 media professionals still behind the bars across the country. The junta has also cancelled the permits of some 15 media outlets, compelling them to either shut down or work from hideouts, and the foreign media have largely been restricted.

Last month, the junta granted a mass amnesty to a group of 3,085 political prisoners, freeing the way for their release, and dropped charges against 5,580 more wanted opposition supporters who were still at large. The released prisoners were, however, were warned not to repeat the offense—which often meant speaking out against the dictatorship and proposed elections. To date, no report has surfaced as to whether ailing octogenarian Suu Kyi, the daughter of Burma’s independence hero Aung San, is among those covered by the amnesty.

All Burma’s neighboring countries—including India, which has a major investment in the under-construction Kaladan riverine mega-project—have expressed their concern over the continued instability on their borders and the ongoing influx of Burmese migrants and refugees.

Political observers in Burma and outside believe that the forthcoming elections will hardly install a real civilian government, but that the military will continue enjoying absolute political power. The current military chief, Min Aung Hlaing, may emerge as the new president of Burma with a victorious USDP. Under the military-drafted 2008 constitution, 25% of parliament seats were reserved for military personnel. This still allowed for an effective opening that brought the NLD to power seven years later. This time, it is clear, the Tatmadaw will be ceding far less control—if any.

———

Photo of 2021 pro-democracy protest: MgHla via Wikimedia Commons

From our Daily Report:

UN: Burma election plans entrench repression
CounterVortex, Dec. 6, 2025

Audio:

Podcast: the Burmese struggle in the Great Game
​CounterVortex, Dec. 30, 2023

Podcast: Orwell and the crisis in Burma
​CounterVortex, Sept. 16, 2023

See also:

MYANMAR: CRISES SPIRAL ONE YEAR AFTER COUP
by Irwin Loy, The New Humanitarian
CounterVortex, February 2022

BURMA: A NEW DEMOCRATIC UPRISING
by Nava Thakuria, CounterVortex
CounterVortex, February 2021

Also by Nava Thakuria:

CHINA’S MEGA-HYDRO SCHEME SPARKS OUTCRY IN INDIA
by Nava Thakuria, CounterVortex
CounterVortex, August 2025

—————————-

Special to CounterVortex, Dec. 22, 2025
Reprinting permissible with attribution

by Timothy Benston, The Black Eye

Birthright citizenship in the United States was never a bureaucratic detail or an immigration loophole. It was a direct assault on white supremacy’s original theory of this nation—that Black presence was permissible only as labor, never as belonging. The framers of the Fourteenth Amendment sought to end that theory for good. Their language was meant to close the door on the idea that one’s worth could be inherited from whiteness or revoked by power. If you are born here, you are of here. That amendment did not just welcome formerly enslaved Black people into the civic body; it attempted to inoculate the Constitution itself against the return of caste.

Yet white supremacy is relentless in its creativity. White supremacy, in every generation, finds new ways to renegotiate the boundaries of who counts as fully American. The current administration’s attempt to rewrite the meaning of citizenship is the latest proof. By working to deny birthright citizenship to the children of non-citizen parents—overwhelmingly those of African, Caribbean, and Latin American descent—it signals that belonging is once again a privilege conferred selectively. This is not a misunderstanding of constitutional law. It is the restoration of racial hierarchy through legal strategy—white supremacy in constitutional form.

On January 20, 2025, the president issued Executive Order 14160, declaring that children born in the United States to parents who are undocumented or temporarily present would no longer receive automatic citizenship. The order seeks to turn birthplace into a technicality and lineage into the true basis of belonging. States and civil-rights organizations challenged the order immediately, and the courts blocked it as unconstitutional. But on December 5, the Supreme Court agreed to hear the consolidated case challenging these rulings—signaling that the highest court in the land is willing to consider whether the Fourteenth Amendment really guarantees equal birthright citizenship or whether whiteness may once again serve as the gatekeeper of America’s future.

This is the reality we now inhabit.

What lies beneath this case is a deeper question: should the United States once again classify human beings by the circumstances of their birth? That is the essence of caste—a structure in which one’s rights, dignity, and opportunities are determined not by where one is born but by the status of one’s parents. When the administration claims that some children born here are nonetheless outsiders, it is insisting that ancestry overrides geography. And in this country, ancestry has always been a substitute for race—a coded way of saying whiteness belongs, and everyone else is subject to review.

If the Court upholds this logic, caste will return to the Constitution not as a metaphor but as a governing principle. It would allow the state to sort the population into hereditary categories: those whose births grant security and those whose births can be erased. This is precisely what the Fourteenth Amendment was meant to prevent.

African Americans understand this danger more than anyone. Legally, we are citizens. Historically, our citizenship has always been conditional. We are citizens until a police officer decides otherwise. We are citizens until a poll worker demands additional proof of who we are. We are citizens until an employer, or a landlord, or a stranger with authority decides our belonging must be verified. Our citizenship has been protected only when convenient for the state and violated whenever profitable for its power. It would be a profound mistake to believe that a constitutional rollback aimed at immigrants could not, in a different crisis, be aimed squarely at us.

What should alarm us most is not only the administration’s intent but the Court’s willingness to entertain it. The Court understands exactly why birthright citizenship exists—to ensure that non-white people could never again be cast outside the law. Its openness to reconsidering that guarantee reveals how easily institutions bend when whiteness demands it. Rights that once seemed settled suddenly become provisional. Thus, equality becomes a suggestion, not a principle.

History offers no comfort here. Before Germany built camps, it passed laws stripping Jews of citizenship and legal protection. Before Myanmar unleashed mass violence against the Rohingya, it declared them foreigners in the land of their birth. When the Dominican Republic erased the nationality of people of Haitian descent, it created a stateless underclass overnight. Legal exclusion is always the opening gesture. Violence follows only after the public has been taught that some lives are less entitled to protection.

Birthright citizenship is supposed to be the firewall that prevents a hereditary underclass from forming—a class of people defined as foreign even when they know no other home. Tear down that firewall, and the Constitution becomes a mechanism for preserving white dominance. The rhetoric surrounding this order—describing migrants from Africa and the Caribbean as “invaders,” as “garbage,” as “poisoning the blood”—is not incidental. Dehumanization always prepares the ground for oppression.

Those who support this effort are not defending America; they are diminishing it. They believe it is better to live in a smaller, whiter democracy than in a larger, multiracial one. They are trying to resurrect the very hierarchy the Fourteenth Amendment buried.

We cannot let them succeed. If this administration and this Court want to restore whiteness as the measure of full belonging, they must face resistance equal to the enormity of that threat. Our families, our communities, and our futures are not provisional. We will not allow our rights to return to the auction block of political convenience. If they intend to write caste back into the Constitution, they must understand this: the America they imagine cannot survive without our subjugation. The America we demand cannot exist without our liberation.

We are not going anywhere.

———

Timothy Benston is an independent writer, social critic and photographer whose work confronts the ongoing erasure of Black life in America. Follow him on Substack at The Black Eye.

Image: PressBooks

Related:

US Supreme Court agrees to consider the legality of birthright citizenship
JURIST, Dec. 6, 2025

From our Daily Report:

Trump vows ‘reverse migration’
CounterVortex, Nov. 29, 2024

AGs challenge Trump bid to end birthright citizenship
CounterVortex, Jan. 23, 2025

Republicans lead fascist attack on Constitution (yes, really)
​CounterVortex, Feb. 26, 2011

Audio:

Podcast: Andrew Jackson and MAGA-fascism
​CounterVortex, Feb. 24, 2025

See also:

INVOKE INTER-AMERICAN DEMOCRATIC CHARTER FOR USA
by Henry ‘Chip’ Carey and Jennifer McCoy, JURIST
CounterVortex, January 2021

DONALD TRUMP: A FASCIST BY ANY OTHER NAME
by Bill Weinberg, Fifth Estate
CounterVortex, April 2017

—————————-

Reprinted by CounterVortex, Dec. 8, 2025
Used with permission.

by Ingrid Burke Friedman, JURIST

This week, President Donald Trump pardoned a man federal prosecutors described as the architect of a “narco-state” who moved 400 tons of cocaine to United States shores. In September, the US military began killing people on Caribbean vessels based on unproven suspicions they were doing the same thing on a far smaller scale. The strikes have drawn allegations of war crimes; the contradiction has drawn bipartisan scrutiny.

Former Honduran president Juan Orlando Hernández walked out of a federal penitentiary in West Virginia on December 2, after Trump issued him a “full and unconditional” pardon. Hernández had been serving a 45-year prison sentence after being convicted in 2024 of facilitating the importation of more than 400 tons of cocaine into the United States over nearly two decades. Then-Attorney General Merrick Garland said at the time that Hernández had “abused his position as President of Honduras to operate the country as a narco-state where violent drug traffickers were allowed to operate with virtual impunity, and the people of Honduras and the United States were forced to suffer the consequences.”

Meanwhile, since early September 2025, the US military has conducted a series of more than 20 strikes on vessels in the Caribbean Sea and Eastern Pacific Ocean, killing at least 82 people. The administration alleges these individuals were all trafficking drugs, but without public evidence or judicial process. The legal framework constructed to justify these killings rests on the claim that the US is engaged in an “armed conflict” with drug cartels, rendering suspected smugglers “unlawful combatants” subject to lethal force.

This explainer examines that framework, with particular attention to a September 2 incident that has prompted congressional investigations and accusations that the US military committed war crimes.

Background

In August, the US began amassing troops and warships in the Caribbean, posing the build-up as a counter-narcotics effort. On September 2, the US military launched the first strike in what would come to be known as Operation Southern Spear, killing 11 people in a fishing boat. “There are 11 narco-terrorists at the bottom of the Caribbean right now who found out, at the hands of American power, that you will not be poisoning the American people anymore,” Secretary of Defense (or “Secretary of War,” as now designated by the Trump administration) Pete Hegseth said.

The strikes have escalated steadily. As of the start of December, US forces had conducted 21 kinetic strikes, killing 82, according to the Pentagon. According to analysts at the Center for Strategic and International Studies (CSIS), recent deployments to the Caribbean have included “larger ships, bringing with them immense firepower and other combat capabilities.” These include the USS Gerald R. Ford, the Navy’s most advanced aircraft carrier.

The Administration’s Legal Theory

On September 4, Trump informed Congress of the strike, as required by the War Powers Resolution. The letter addressed domestic law by citing his constitutional authority under Article II, and international law by claiming “self defense.”

The legal justification for Operation Southern Spear is said to rest on a secret memo reportedly authorizing strikes against cartels beyond those that have been publicly designated as terrorist organizations, and against individuals merely “affiliated” with such groups. The memo was reportedly produced by the Office of Legal Counsel (OLC) within the US Department of Justice (DoJ).

House Judiciary Committee Ranking Member Jamie Raskin described the memo as having given Trump “unchecked power to order military strikes on civilian targets who have unverified ties to ‘a secret list of groups.'”

In an October letter demanding the release of the memo, Raskin wrote that media reporting on the memo “raises the alarming prospect that DoJ has authorized the President to order targeted assassinations against anyone he deems an enemy combatant, including individuals located in the United States, without having to provide any evidence or justification to Congress or any federal judge.”

The memo has not been released to the public.

On October 9, as reports of the secret memo proliferated, House Judiciary Committee Democrats claimed the president appeared to have relied on a misinterpretation or misapplication of his Article II powers:

There does not appear to be a legal basis for the strikes. The administration has not asked Congress for a declaration of war against any suspected drug cartel or narcotraffickers. It instead appears to have invoked novel and extraordinary emergency wartime powers under Article II. But such powers would require the President to show, at bare minimum, verifiable evidence that his targets are actual enemy combatants. President Trump has not done so. He instead is asking the American people to take his word for it, without presenting any evidence to Congress, to any court, or to the American people. [Emphasis in original.]

The American Civil Liberties Union and the Center for Constitutional Rights pointed out several inconsistencies with the self-defense claims, writing in a joint call for transparency on October 15:

Trump asserted that one such strike was conducted “in self-defense” against “affiliate[s]” of an unidentified “designated terrorist organization” pursuant to the President’s “constitutional authority as Commander in Chief” —even though the Department of Defense reportedly was unable to confirm the victims’ identities and acknowledged to the Senate Armed Services Committee that the targeted vessel had “turned around” before it was bombed.

The Armed Conflict Threshold

The administration’s framework depends entirely on the threshold question of whether the US can lawfully be considered “at war” with drug trafficking organizations.

International humanitarian law recognizes two categories of armed conflict: international armed conflicts between states (governed by the four Geneva Conventions and Additional Protocol I) and non-international armed conflicts within or across state boundaries involving organized armed groups (governed by Common Article 3 and Additional Protocol II).

Legal experts have overwhelmingly rejected the administration’s characterization.

Writing in Just Security on December 1, international law scholars Michael Schmitt, Ryan Goodman and Tess Bridgeman argued:

There is no international armed conflict because, inter alia, there are neither hostilities between States nor the requisite degree of State control over alleged drug cartels operating the boats. And there is no non-international armed conflict, both because the cartels concerned do not qualify as organized armed groups in the [law of armed conflict] sense, and because there were no hostilities between the United States and the cartels on [September 2], let alone hostilities that would reach the requisite level of intensity to cross the armed conflict threshold.

Brian Finucane, a former State Department lawyer now with the International Crisis Group, has emphasized that drug cartels lack the military hierarchies and combat capabilities required to constitute organized armed groups under international humanitarian law. As he told CBS News, “They don’t have military hierarchies, don’t have the capability to engage in combat operations, and so it’s absurd to claim that the US is somehow in an armed conflict with them.”

Sarah Yager, Washington director of Human Rights Watch, put the matter bluntly: “It’s not a question of a war crime because there’s no war, there’s no armed conflict, so it can’t be a war crime. It is literally murder.”

Protections for the Shipwrecked: Even in War

Even accepting the administration’s claim that an armed conflict exists, the September 2 incident raises distinct legal concerns under the laws of war. Article 12 of the Geneva Convention (II), for the Amelioration of the Condition of Wounded, Sick and Shipwrecked Members of Armed Forces at Sea, requires that persons “who are at sea and who are wounded, sick or shipwrecked, shall be respected and protected in all circumstances.” Article 18 mandates that parties to a conflict “take all possible measures to search for and collect the shipwrecked, wounded and sick, to protect them against pillage and ill-treatment, to ensure their adequate care.”

Additional Protocol I to the Geneva Conventions is equally explicit. Article 40 states: “It is prohibited to order that there shall be no survivors, to threaten an adversary therewith or to conduct hostilities on this basis.” Article 41 provides that persons rendered hors de combat—including those “rendered unconscious or otherwise incapacitated by wounds or sickness”— “shall not be made the object of attack.”

The US Defense Department’s own Law of War Manual incorporates these principles. Section 5.9.4 states that “persons who have been incapacitated by wounds, sickness, or shipwreck are in a helpless state, and it would be dishonorable and inhumane to make them the object of attack.” The Manual explicitly addresses the imperative of refusing orders to fire upon the shipwrecked, stating in Section 18.3.2.1:

The requirement to refuse to comply with orders to commit law of war violations applies to orders to perform conduct that is clearly illegal or orders that the subordinate knows, in fact, are illegal. For example, orders to fire upon the shipwrecked would be clearly illegal.

The September 2 Incident

The September 2 strike unfolded in two phases. After an initial strike on the vessel killed nine of the 11 people aboard, two survivors were observed clinging to the burning wreckage. Vice Admiral Frank Bradley, then commanding the Joint Special Operations Command, ordered a follow-up strike. Both survivors were killed.

The administration has defended the second strike on the ground that the survivors had radioed for assistance, allegedly communicating with another vessel suspected of involvement in drug trafficking. Hegseth has emphasized his support for Bradley, while also distancing himself from the order, writing: “Admiral Mitch Bradley is an American hero, a true professional, and has my 100% support. I stand by him and the combat decisions he has made—on the September 2 mission and all others since.”

Legal experts have rejected this reasoning categorically. As the Just Security analysis notes, “there is no exception to the prohibition on attacking those who are hors de combat due to being shipwrecked because they might escape or otherwise receive rescue assistance from their forces.” The Lieber Institute at West Point, in a pre-existing analysis of the hors de combat standard, emphasizes that the determination turns on whether a person is “incapable of defending himself”—not whether they might theoretically rejoin hostilities in the future.

Congressional Response

The September 2 incident has prompted rare bipartisan oversight activity. The chairs and ranking members of both the House and Senate Armed Services Committees announced investigations immediately following press reports of the second strike. Admiral Bradley and General Dan Caine, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, provided classified briefings to congressional leaders on December 4.

Emerging from a House Intelligence Committee briefing, Representative Jim Himes was quoted by CBS as telling reporters: “What I saw in that room was one of the most troubling things I’ve seen in my time in public service… You have two individuals in clear distress without any means of locomotion, with a destroyed vessel, who are killed by the United States.” Senator Tim Kaine was quoted by Politico as having said the incident “rises to the level of a war crime if it’s true.”

Congressional investigators have requested the complete, unedited video footage of the September 2 engagement, the “Strike Bridge” text communications between Admiral Bradley and the SEAL Team 6 operators directing the drone, and the classified OLC opinion. President Trump has stated he would support the release of the video; it remains unclear whether the Pentagon will provide the other materials.

The Hernández Pardon in Context

The administration’s approach to Hernández stands in jarring contrast. In announcing the pardon on November 28, Trump stated that Hernández had been “treated very harshly and unfairly” and that “many people in Honduras” had asked for clemency.

Significantly, Trump’s announcement came on the very eve of Honduras’ presidential election, in which the US president openly favored conservative candidate Nasry Asfura, who is from the same right-wing National Party as Hernández. Trump denounced Asfura’s main rival, Salvador Nasralla of the centrist Liberal Party, as a “borderline Communist,” and threatened to cut off US aid to Honduras if he won. The election was very close and the results are still pending, with candidate Rixi Moncada of the incumbent left-wing LIBRE party placing a distant third and eliminated from the running. Unfortunately, there are accusations of irregularities, and great potential for the results to be contested.

Whatever political logic may be at work behind the pardon of Hernández, the contrast with Trump’s stance toward Venezuelan leader Nicolás Maduro (who faces trafficking charges in the US, and a $50 million DOJ bounty on his head), is lost on few. Republican Senator Bill Cassidy of Louisiana captured the contradiction: “Why would we pardon this guy then go after Maduro for running drugs into the United States? Lock up every drug runner! Don’t understand why he is being pardoned.”

The point applies with equal force to the boat strikes: how can an administration claim authority to execute suspects who do not even face criminal charges, while freeing a convicted trafficker?

Conclusion

The legal framework underlying Operation Southern Spear faces challenges on multiple fronts.

First, many experts reject the foundational claim that the United States can be at war with drug cartels in any legally cognizable sense, meaning the strikes could be interpreted to constitute extrajudicial killings rather than lawful acts of war.

Second, even under the administration’s preferred framework, the targeting of shipwrecked survivors violates protections so fundamental that they have been recognized as binding for over a century.

Third, the classified nature of the OLC opinion raises serious questions about democratic accountability for the use of lethal force.

As congressional investigations proceed, the September 2 incident may prove to be a test case for the limits of executive war-making authority, and for the durability of international humanitarian norms that the United States itself helped to establish.

———

This story first appeared Dec. 4 on JURIST. Reprinted with permission.

Image: WeatherWriter via Wikimedia Commons

From our Daily Report:

UN protests as Trump threatens Venezuela
CounterVortex, Dec. 3, 2025

Honduras implements ‘Crime Solution Plan’
CounterVortex, June 20, 2024

Honduras transition in the New Cold War
​CounterVortex, Dec. 28, 2021

Audio:

Podcast: Trump for War-is-Peace Prize II
​CounterVortex, Nov. 30, 2025

See also:

SHADOW WAR ON COLOMBIA’S BORDERLANDS
Guerrillas, Smugglers and Militarization on Colombia-Venezuela Frontier
by Joshua Collins, The New Humanitarian
CounterVortex, May 2020

U.S. STILL SUPPORTS HONDURAN DEATH SQUADS
by Lauren Carasik, Jurist
CounterVortex, May 2013

—————————-

Reprinted by CounterVortex, Dec. 5, 2025
Used with permission.

The Chinese state’s hydro-electric activities on the Yarlung Tsangpo (or Zangbo) river have long been a source of tension with the downstream countries of India and Bangladesh, which cite a risk of ecological disaster. Now Beijing has started building a colossal dam at the Tsangpo’s great bend in southeastern Tibet, close to the border with the Indian state of Arunachal Pradesh. Chinese Premier Li Qiang on July 19 attended the groundbreaking ceremony for the Medog Hydropower Station in Nyingchi, Tibet Autonomous Region, and hailed it as the “project of the century.” But the $168 billion hydro-dam, which will be the world’s largest when it is completed, is described by Arunachal Pradesh leaders as an “existential threat.”

The Tibetan plateau feeds a number of rivers which support a populace of over 1.5 billion South Asia. The most significant of these is the Yarlung Tsangpo, which is known as the Brahmaputra as it crosses into India, and then as the Jamuna in Bangladesh. Beijing first announced plans for the current mega-project under its 2020 Five-Year Plan, as part of a broader strategy to exploit the hydropower potential of the Tibetan plateau. The plan was fully approved in December 2024, and a new entity announced to oversee its construction and operation, the China Yajiang Group Co Ltd. Once completed and made operational (tentatively by 2033), the project is expected to have a generation capacity of 60,000 megawatts—three times that of the Three Gorges Dam on the Yangtze, which is currently the world’s largest hydropower station.

New Delhi has been monitoring Chinese infrastructure interventions on the Tsangpo/Brahmaputra, and raised the issue with Beijing on different occasions. As a downstream or “lower riparian” country with established user rights to the river’s water, India has conveyed concern over the new mega-project. Delhi’s foreign ministry stressed the need for “transparency and consultation with downstream countries.”

But fears are especially pronounced in Arunachal Pradesh, where the river is known locally as the Siang. The state’s Chief Minister Pema Khandu told the Press Trust of India: “Setting aside the military threat from China, it seems to me that this is a far bigger issue than anything else. It is going to cause an existential threat to our tribes and our livelihoods. It is quite serious because China could even use this as a sort of water bomb… If they suddenly release water, our entire Siang belt would be destroyed.”

On the other hand, if too much water is reserved within China, “our Siang and Brahmaputra rivers could dry up considerably.” He particularly stressed the impact of either scenario on the Adi indigenous tribe, which lives in the riparian zone of the Siang.

New Delhi has even proposed its own dam on Siang to act as a shield against sudden water releases from the Chinese dam. Delhi proposes the 11,000-megawatt Upper Siang Multipurpose Project in Arunachal Pradesh, with an aim of effectively mitigating the potential impacts from the upstream developments.

Bangladesh, in contrast, seems in no hurry to express concern over the hydropower venture. The current interim government in Dhaka recently said it accepts Beijing’s assurance that no water diversion or use for irrigation purposes will be carried out under the project, and hence it should not affect the water flow to downstream countries.

Beijing defends its decision to go ahead with the Medog Hydropower Station as “fully within China’s sovereignty,” and portrays it as part of its push for clean energy development and response to climate change. The Chinese Foreign Ministry in its July 23 statement asserted that the project will help prevent and mitigate disasters along the entire river. As the project was accepted after rigorous scientific evaluations, the statement said, it will not adversely affect the environment, geological stability or water rights in the downstream countries. The statement added that Beijing is committed to cooperation with lower riparian countries on flood prevention and sharing hydrological data.

Earlier this year, President Xi Jinping described hydro development on the Tsangpo as a “win-win solution,” that will reduce pollution and mean economic growth meant for rural Tibetans. However, the project will entail the forcible removal of Tibetan villages. On various occasions, Tibetans both inside and outside Tibet have demonstrated against the practice of damming their sacred rivers by what they view as an occupying imperial Beijing.

The Chinese Communist Party regime occupied Tibet with military might in 1959, following which 14th Dalai Lama escaped to India. The freedom-aspiring Tibetans continue their fight for a genuine autonomy so that they can safeguard their religious, cultural and political rights. However, considering Tibet an integral part of China, Beijing has launched a drive for massive resource exploitation in the region—leading to uncontrolled deforestation, which itself threatens the integrity of watersheds. Although one fifth of Tibet’s land area is recognized as wildlife reserves, those forests are hardly protected in reality.

Hydro-power is the latest push in thie development drive for Tibet—but his declared policy explicitly recognizes that the region’s resources are being exploited for the Chinese heartland. It is dubbed xidiandongsong, or “sending western electricity eastwards.”

Often called the “Water Tower of Asia,” the Tibetan plateau frequently experiences earthquakes, and the latest one was felt as recently as this January 7, with an intensity of 7.1 on the Richter scale, followed by two aftershocks with the magnitude of 4.9 and 5. The temblor, which was also felt in Nepal, Bhutan and eastern Indian localities, destroyed over 3,500 houses in the thinly populated high-altitude Himalayan areas. More than 125 local residents were killed and several others injured, while nearly 30,000 people had to be relocated. After initial denials, Chinese officials disclosed that a few cracks appeared on hydro-dams in Tibet’s Shigatse locality.

In Assam, the Indian state that the Brahmaputra passes through between Arunachal Pradesh and Bangladesh, a forum of engineering graduates, has issued a statement calling on New Delhi to press the question of earthquake risk with Beijing. Warned the All Assam Engineer’s Association (AAEA):  “If a high intensity earthquake hits the gigantic Tsangpo project, one can visualize the large-scale impact on the downstream localities covering the entire Brahmaputra river basin.” The AAEA added that New Delhi should deal strongly with the Beijing administration to safeguard the entire eastern region of India from probable disasters.

———

Image: Shannon1/DEMIS Mapserver via Wikimedia Commons

From our Daily Report:

China arrests hundreds as Tibetans protest dam
CounterVortex, March 6, 2024

Tibet: climate struggle frontline
CounterVortex, Dec. 15, 2016

Geography wars in coverage of Tibetan self-immolations
​CounterVortex, April 21, 2012

Tibetan village prevails in mining struggle
CounterVortex, Feb. 13, 2012

China: Sichuan quake imperils hydro-dams
CounterVortex, May 16, 2008

Delhi’s suspension of Indus treaty imperils regional stability
​CounterVortex, April 26, 2025

Audio:

Podcast: Himalayan fault lines in BRICS
​CounterVortex, Sept. 2, 2023

See also:

HOW INDIA COMPLICATED KASHMIR DISPUTE
by L. Ali Khan, Jurist
CounterVortex, August 2019

OUTCAST LAWYERS IN CHINA
by Patrick Poon, Jurist
CounterVortex, May 2018

NEW YORK CITY PROTEST AGAINST EVICTIONS …IN TIBET
by Bill Weinberg, The Villager
CounterVortex, January 2017

CLIMATE CHANGE MIGRANTS OF BANGLADESH
by Mubashar Hasan, IRIN
CounterVortex, December 2015

INDIA: PASSIVE RESISTANCE TO MEGA-HYDRO IN ASSAM
by T Navajyoti, World War 4 Report
CounterVortex, June 2012

Also by Nava Thakuria:

INDIA: OUTCRY AGAINST ‘SPECIAL POWERS’ AFTER NAGALAND MASSACRE
by Nava Thakuria, CounterVortex
CounterVortex, December 2021

—————————-

Special to CounterVortex, Aug. 6, 2025
Reprinting permissible with attribution

The formal announcement of the PKK’s dissolution has sparked mixed reactions among Turkey’s Kurds and international supporters. However, it has been years in the making and comes as no surprise to long-term observers of the Kurdish movement and readers of Abdullah Öcalan‘s theory of Democratic Confederalism. The shift had been indicated months earlier and signifies a strategic transformation aligned with a broader vision of autonomy beyond the state, the party, and the armed struggle.

The Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK) was founded in 1978 and launched an armed struggle in 1984, demanding Kurdish autonomy. Turkey responded with harsh military repression, and the two sides became entangled in a bloody conflict that lasted for decades. Over the course of this war, between 40,000 and 50,000 people were killed, including civilians, PKK fighters, Turkish soldiers, police, and village guards. The 1990s were particularly brutal, marked by widespread village burnings, forced displacements affecting up to 3 million people, and systemic human rights abuses. Despite several attempts at ceasefires and peace talks, the violence periodically escalated—especially after the collapse of negotiations in 2015, when renewed urban warfare brought heavy casualties to cities like Cizre and Sur.

Since Öcalan’s capture in 1999, the Kurdish freedom movement has gradually shifted away from traditional models of armed vanguardism, nationalist statism and Stalinist rigidity. While the PKK maintained its armed forces—particularly in the mountains of Iraqi Kurdistan—its ideological orientation increasingly prioritized social transformation over military confrontation.

This shift found structural expression in the formation of the Kurdistan Communities Union (KCK) in the early 2000s: an umbrella of organizations with a decentralized and horizontal character. The KCK encompasses a wide array of communities, political parties, citizen initiatives, committees, and grassroots institutions across Turkey, Syria, Iraq, and Iran. It represents a deliberate move away from the rigid, centralized model of the vanguard party, in favor of a networked configuration grounded in direct participation and local autonomy.

In Turkey, the KCK has been politically active in coordinating cultural, social, and municipalist initiatives. It has succeeded in winning local councils and electing candidates to mayoral positions. The Turkish state has responded with sustained repression, including mass arrests of alleged “KCK members” over the past decade.

In this new worldview, the space for a hierarchical party structure like the PKK has been steadily shrinking. Öcalan’s February 2025 call for the PKK to formally dissolve was met with support from officials within Kongra-Gel, the legislative body of the KCK that claimed that this step “marks the beginning of a broader democracy movement—one that includes women, workers, and environmental activists,” thus being more aligned with the framework of Democratic Modernity.

Democratic confederalism was first articulated within the PKK and found its most visible, though partial, implementation in Rojava [northeast Syria]. Where the PKK once contributed to ethnic polarization within Turkey and even among Kurds, the Rojava model now emphasises the transition to plurality, feminism, and decentralization. For over a decade, the region has resisted Turkish invasions, ISIS offensives, regime hostility, and international neglect, all while pushing the social and political revolution. Like the Zapatistas—whose influence is evident across the movement—Kurdish cadres have redefined and demystified the idea of armed struggle. Central to this paradigm is Jineology—the “science of women”—which frames women’s liberation as the foundation of any meaningful revolutionary process.

Turning Point
The decision to end the cycle of armed polarization with the Turkish state could signal a turn toward a more contemporary revolutionary horizon—one grounded not in elite substitution, but in mass participation. Rojava, too, is entering a new phase. The Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF) have signed an initial agreement with Syria’s central government to initiate negotiations for formal recognition of the region’s autonomous status—not as an independent nation-state, but as a decentralized component of a reimagined Syrian polity. Though past efforts were blocked under Assad, shifting power dynamics have reopened the possibility of dialogue. The ideas of confederalism and gender liberation may now be closer than ever to broader realization and territorial grounding. Despite the grave dangers from negotiating with the jihadist-led Syrian regime, the Kurdish administration continues to push forward, seeking recognition as a self-governing entity.

This evolution naturally coincides with the PKK’s disbandment. In Turkey, these developments may challenge the regime’s foundational narrative. For decades, Ankara has used the PKK’s designation as a terrorist organization to justify military operations, political repression, and the targeting of Kurdish organizations, journalists, and international allies. It has claimed that all Kurdish structures—from the PYD [Democratic Union Party] to the YPG/YPJ [People’s Protection Units/Women’s Protection Units] and the SDF—are fronts for the PKK. With the PKK now dissolved, the legal rationale for this strategy is weakened. Though state discourse may persist, its credibility—especially internationally—could erode. This could offer Erdoğan the opportunity to pivot toward a political approach that acknowledges Kurdish autonomy in exchange for domestic stability and constitutional leverage. Ankara’s recent pledges of financial support to Kurdish-majority regions—which comprise roughly 20% of Turkey’s territory and are home to an estimated 12-to-17 million people—may be signs of this shift.

The big question is whether the Turkish authoritarian regime will allow such a democratic approach, or whether it will force the Kurdish movement back into armed insurgency. In the past, the PKK attempted several times to withdraw its forces from Turkey, but each time the process was disrupted by the Turkish state.

What comes next is uncertain. The history of betrayal runs deep, and the risks of co-optation or renewed repression remain. Yet the Kurdish movement has demonstrated extraordinary adaptability, rooted in lived resistance and revolutionary imagination. If this is the end of the party, it may well mark the beginning of something deeper: a stateless alternative struggling to survive amid the ruins of the patriarchal nation-state.

———

This story first appeared May 19 in Freedom News.

Image: Montecruz Foto CC BY-SA 3.0

From our Daily Report:

PKK resolves to dissolve at 12th Congress
CounterVortex, May 16, 2025

Amnesty International protests Turkish repression wave
CounterVortex, March 27, 2025

Syria: interim government, SDF sign integration pact
CounterVortex, March 12, 2025

Aleppo and Cizre: fearful symmetry
CounterVortex, May 16, 2016

Audio:

Podcast: Free Syria and the Kurdish question II
CounterVortex, March 9, 2025

Rojava and the Rohingya: fearful symmetry
CounterVortex, Dec. 29, 2024

Podcast: Free Syria and the Kurdish question
CounterVortex, Dec. 15, 2024

See also:

FREE SYRIANS STAND UP FOR PALESTINE
by JURIST Staff
CounterVortex, April 2025

THE NEW ZAPATISTA AUTONOMY
by Uri Gordon, Freedom
CounterVortex, November 2023

TURKISH KURDISTAN: ERASURE OF A CULTURE
by Diego Cupolo, IRIN
CounterVortex, July 2018

SYRIA’S KURDISH CONTRADICTION
by Bill Weinberg, Los Angeles Review of Books
CounterVortex, October 2017

SYRIA’S KURDISH REVOLUTION
The Anarchist Element and the Challenge of Solidarity
by Bill Weinberg, Fifth Estate
CounterVortex, February 2015

THE NEW PKK
Unleashing Social Revolution in Kurdistan
by Rafael Taylor, ROAR Magazine
CounterVortex, August 2014

—————————-

Reprinted by CounterVortex, May 28, 2025
Used with permission.

We may not have the infrastructure, but we have the will.

—Banner held at protests across Syria, April 2025

In an unprecedented wave of demonstrations across government-held territory, the Syrian people have taken to the streets not to challenge their own leadership, but to protest Israel’s ongoing human rights atrocities in Gaza and its repeated military strikes on Syrian soil.

This explainer breaks down what’s happening, what’s fueling the anger, and what it signals about a country emerging from decades of harsh internal rule, and why Syrians are rallying around a cause that reaches well beyond their own country’s borders.

What’s going on?

Throughout early April, mass demonstrations repeatedly erupted in Damascus, Daraa, Sweida, Hama, Tartus and other cities across Syria. According to reports from the official Syrian Arab News Agency (SANA), these protests were organized in solidarity with the Gazans—who have endured over a year and a half of devastating Israeli bombardment—and in condemnation of repeated Israeli attacks inside Syria, including deadly air-strikes.

The largest of the demonstrations were held in the country’s capital Damascus, where crowds raised Syrian and Palestinian flags and called for an end to what they are calling a genocide in Gaza.

What triggered the protests?

The immediate catalyst was a deadly Israeli air-strike on April 2 that targeted al-Jubailiya Dam forested area in Daraa governorate’s western countryside, killing nine civilians. It was one of five air-strikes launched in a single evening, which also resulted in the near-total destruction of Hama Military Airport.

However, collective outrage had been brewing long before the April 2 air-strike. Since October 2023, Israel has conducted near-daily air raids across Syria — actions which Damascus residents say have killed civilians, destroyed military infrastructure, and obstructed post-war recovery efforts.

On top of that, Israel’s March 18 withdrawal from a ceasefire and prisoner exchange deal in Gaza reignited outrage. The cumulative death toll in the Gaza Strip, as reported by the Gaza Ministry of Health, now exceeds 50,810 dead and 115,688 wounded.

Is this linked to Syria’s internal politics?

Yes, but not in the way we’ve seen before. These protests are not targeting Syria’s new interim leadership. Significantly, they follow the fall of the Bashar al-Assad regime in December 2024, which ended 61 years of Ba’ath Party rule—including the 24 years under Bashar al-Assad. Sparked by a sweeping advance of rebel forces on Damascus and collapse of the Assad regime’s military, that political shift ushered in the new interim leader Ahmed al-Sharaa, whose administration now leads the country through a fragile post-conflict transition.

While the interim government works to consolidate its authority and attempts to rebuild key state institutions, it has largely adopted a non-confrontational stance toward Israel, issuing diplomatic condemnations rather than threats. Ahmed al-Sharaa’s administration has refrained from military engagement, and has instead expressed a desire to focus on reconstruction, reconciliation, and cautious foreign policy.

Yet, despite the absence of hostile rhetoric from Damascus, Israeli air-strikes have continued, targeting military sites, but also hitting civilian infrastructure and residential areas. Israel’s attacks have prompted Syrians across multiple regions to take to the streets, not only in support of Gaza, but also in remembrance of their own civilians killed by bombs. For many, the protests are an outlet for national grief, unresolved trauma, and a renewed assertion of Syrian sovereignty and freedom after decades of authoritarian rule. To be sure, these are not protests of opposition—they are protests of solidarity, memory, and an emerging voice.

What makes these protests significant?

Unity across regions: Demonstrations erupted throughout traditionally distinct and sometimes divided regions, including Daraa, Damascus, Sweida and Tartus—showing an emergent national cohesion after years of internal war.

Post-regime expression: With the end of the Bashar al-Assad era, Syrians are visibly reclaiming public spaces to express their political views, this time focusing their efforts on foreign aggressors instead of domestic oppressors.

Symbolic solidarity: Many protestors explained their actions as both resistance and mourning—holding signs that read “Oh Daraa, we are with you until death,” and “To the brutal entity: We may not have the infrastructure, but we have the will.”

How has Syria’s government responded?

Rather than suppressing the protests, the Syrian government has chosen to amplify them through state media. For instance, SANA provided extensive news coverage and photos of the protests, describing them as patriotic and honorable.

The Syrian Foreign Ministry has accused Israel of violating Syrian sovereignty, reconstruction efforts, and the 1974 Separation of Forces Agreement. The Ministry has called on the international community to intervene and pressure the Israel government to stop its attacks.

The 1974 Separation of Forces Agreement—brokered by the United States after the 1973 Arab-Israeli War—established a demilitarized buffer zone between Israeli and Syrian forces in the Golan Heights and was monitored by a UN peacekeeping mission. The zone’s purpose was to prevent direct military clashes and served as the linchpin in the country’s ability to maintain some semblance of calm on the Syria-Israel front for decades.

What happens next?

It remains uncertain whether these protests will alter the course of regional events or lead to a major shift in Syria’s foreign policy. What is certain is that the Syrian people have been long silenced by internal repression and are now raising their voices in a new era, united by the loss of their own and the hope for a better future. From all across Syria, they have made it clear that they will not stay silent.

———

This story first appeared April 9 on JURIST, under the title “Explainer: Why Syrians are Taking to the Streets.”

Photo: Suppressed News via Twitter

From our Daily Report:

Israel, Turkey turn Syria into chessboard
CounterVortex, April 4, 2025

Audio:

Syria: after the fall of the regime
CounterVortex, Dec. 8, 2024

See also:

GAZA’S SHOCK ATTACK: UNVEILING THE CONTEXT
by Haggai Matar, +972 Magazine
CounterVortex, October 2023

IDLIB RESISTS
Syrian Resistance Stands Up Again—This Time Against Islamist Militia
by Leila Al Shami
CounterVortex, November 2019

—————————-

Reprinted by CounterVortex, April 9, 2025
Used with permission.