Kyrgyzstan’s first constitution was adopted in 1993 under Askar Akayev, the country’s inaugural president. This constitution established a government that split power between Akayev and a unicameral legislature; Akayev quickly moved to expand his role by holding referenda in 1996, 1998 and 2003 that allowed him to appoint high-ranking officials without legislative approval, take control of Kyrgyzstan’s foreign policy agenda, and undermine the power balance by bouncing the legislature back and forth between a bicameral and unicameral structure. In 2005, allegations of corruption in parliamentary elections sparked a protest movement that would come to be known as the Tulip Revolution and resulted in Akayev being forced from office.

Akayev was replaced by Kurmanbek Bakiyev, who garnered the support needed to win the election by making promises to return to a parliamentary model of government; he did so in 2006 but less than a year later used a referendum (whose results are considered to be falsified) to institute a presidential constitution that essentially reverted the government to its structure under Akayev. Following his re-election in 2009, Bakiyev continued transferring governmental powers to his office directly or to agencies led by his supporters. 

Bakiyev’s blatant power-grabbing bred discontent in the general population and led to nationwide protests in 2010 that resulted in him fleeing and installing Roza Otunbayeva as interim president. She implemented a new constitution that was a complete reversal of Akayev and Bakiyev’s governments; it significantly decentralized power and stripped the executive’s office of many of the capabilities it had acquired over the previous two decades by returning them to their original homes with the prime minister and legislature. Two particularly striking blows to the president’s power were the restriction to a single six-year term and the loss of the ability to initiate legislation. 

Almazbek Atambayev was inaugurated as president in 2011 in Kyrgyzstan’s first democratic transfer of power. Perhaps having learned from Akayev and Bakiyev, Atambayev did not seek to retain power in as bold a manner as they had — though his attempts backfired in a similarly spectacular fashion. Rather than changing the constitution to give himself more power, Atambayev’s 2016 referendum further reduced the president’s power while increasing that of the prime minister, intending to eventually take that position for himself.  

Before the end of his term, Atambayev placed his supporters in positions of power within the government and heavily backed the presidential bid of Sooronbay Jeenbekov — who won the 2017 election because of this endorsement — because he believed Jeenbekov could be controlled. However, a breakdown in their relationship resulted in Jeenbekov removing Atambayev’s allies from government positions and amending Kyrgyz law so that past presidents could not hold state positions without losing presidential immunity. After publicly criticizing Jeenbekov and the Parliament for this, Atambayev was stripped of presidential immunity and accused of a host of crimes, including corruption and illegally releasing criminals. An operation to arrest Atambayev resulted in an officer’s death and the addition of charges (including murder and organizing mass riots) due to his resistance efforts; he has since been sentenced to 11 years in prison. Though Atambayev was the first president to take power peacefully, he could not let it go the same way, further perpetuating the cycle of instability in Kyrgyz politics. 

Jeenbekov’s tenure as president lasted only three years and ended due to Kyrgyzstan’s third and most recent revolution, provoked by parliamentary elections in October 2020. Rumors of vote-buying and fraudulent voter registration were rampant in the lead-up to the election; Jeenbekov dismissed these as false, but the election results clearly favored the parties associated with election tampering. Peaceful protests quickly turned violent and led to Parliament annulling the results just two days after they were announced. Jeenbekov then went missing for several days, only to emerge a week after the election was annulled to announce his resignation. 

The presidential election, held in January 2021 to decide Jeenbekov’s successor, was won by current president Sadyr Japarov. Japarov’s ascendancy to president surprised many as he had not been a particularly standout politician prior to his meteoric rise. His success can largely be attributed to a framing of the uprising as an anti-elite, anti-status quo movement that sought to return power to the people. Japarov garnered support from the masses by pushing populist ideas such as nationalizing natural resources and plans to redistribute wealth. Additionally, he was aided by his reputation as an “ordinary guy,” which diverged from the rest of the political elite associated with the corrupt government. 

Though he has only been in office a short while, Japarov has already significantly altered the structure of the government. A referendum held just three months after he was elected returned the country to a presidential system that gave the office of the executive more power than it has ever had. The president can now appoint and dismiss judges and other high-ranking officials, strip parliament members of political immunity and initiate laws and referendums. The new constitution greatly erodes the system of checks and balances by giving the president significant leverage over the other branches. The term limit was also amended to allow a president to be reelected to a second term. 

The other major power shift included in the new constitution is the bestowing of significant political power on the Kurultai, an unelected assembly that previously served solely as a consultative body. The Kurultai, which has historically been composed of elders and elites, now can suggest the removal of government officials from office, appoint judges, and propose new laws. It is essentially a duplicate of Parliament, but one that is solely under the control of the President and is unbeholden to voters. Members of the Kurultai tend to be more conservative and orthodox and would likely pass spiritual and moral laws to create a legal basis supporting the shift to traditional values that Kyrgyz culture has already been experiencing over the last few decades. This latest form of the constitution represents a dangerous step back toward a government that is functionally authoritarian and under the complete control of the President.

The political instability and constant constitutional changes Kyrgyzstan has experienced over the past 30 years have had a profoundly negative impact on the nation’s people. According to Saniaa Toktogazieva, Associate Professor at the American University of Central Asia, “there is an unprecedented level of legal nihilism” in Kyrgyzstan today due to the country’s history with politics. The ceaseless shifting of government structure and policy — along with the uneven implementation of the law and the lack of compliance by government officials — has caused people to become increasingly distrustful of the government and legal system. The law is only as powerful and effective as people’s belief in it, and in Kyrgyzstan, that belief has been steadily worn down. When there is no trust in the law, people fall back on social and religious norms, resulting in an increasing Islamization of the population and a return to traditional values. 

Kyrgyzstan is at a turning point in its political history. It can either become a country guided by religion and conservative principles or live up to its reputation as the beacon of democracy and freedom in Central Asia. Only time will tell which path it will take. 

To maintain peace between these three countries, who are the states most affected by the GERD, Ethiopia cannot make decisions about the dam unilaterally and needs to come to an agreement with Egypt and Sudan on water release quotas.

Ethiopia’s rationale for building the GERD is twofold: to expand access to electricity for its people and stimulate its flagging economy. Ethiopia has the second biggest electricity deficit in Africa — almost 70% of the country’s population is unconnected to the grid. This lack of electricity is also stifling an economy already bearing the consequences of COVID-19 and a deadly civil war. Unpredictable blackouts and power fluctuations routinely destroy equipment and force factories to shut down, costing business owners millions. Dr. Seleshi Bekele, Ethiopia’s former Water and Irrigation Minister and current chief negotiator and advisor on the GERD, has said that the dam will be “instrumental for clean and renewable energy” and “create access [for]65 million people without electricity.”

At full capacity, the GERD will quadruple the amount of electricity Ethiopia produces, creating a constant supply for civilians and businesses and a surplus to be exported to neighboring countries. The dam has already supported the economy by creating 12,000 construction jobs, and will increase crop yields by reducing sedimentation and regulating the Blue Nile’s flow. As Ethiopia’s economy is still dependent on agriculture, this is especially beneficial.

Egypt and Sudan recognize Ethiopia’s right to build the GERD, but worry about its implications for their water security. Yasir Abbas, Sudan’s Water Resources Minister, has said that “without an agreement, the GERD is really a threat to the people downstream […] both the environment and the livelihoods of the people.” 

Egypt — dependent on the Blue Nile for 94% of its total water supply — is facing water shortages as a result of climate change and has begun restricting the cultivation of water-intensive crops. Ethiopia’s refusal to agree on a set amount of water to be released during drought years is making Egypt nervous that electricity production (optimized when the reservoir is full) will be prioritized above providing Egyptians with water. 

Sudan is similarly reliant on the Blue Nile and shares Egypt’s fears, which turned into reality in 2020 when Ethiopia shut off the GERD’s diversion outlets without warning. This decreased the flow of water downstream and interrupted Sudan’s municipal and agricultural water distribution. Furthermore, because it is upstream from Sudan and so close to the border, simulations have predicted that the GERD breaking would cause every dam in Sudan to fail as well. The combined damage would flood the capital city Khartoum and much of the country’s agricultural basin, further incentivizing Sudan to push for lower reservoir levels.

An absence of international laws regarding transboundary rivers has left the three countries to come up with a solution amongst themselves. To Ethiopia, the operation of the GERD is an economic matter, whereas for Egypt and Sudan it is a question of access to a crucial resource. There is a fundamental imbalance in the severity of this issue for the countries on either side, and Egypt and Sudan are willing to escalate their response beyond harshly worded statements. 

After another round of failed negotiations with Ethiopia in March 2021, Egyptian President Abdel Fattah al-Sisi issued a clear threat by declaring that “Egypt’s water is off limits. If anyone were to cross this red line, our response would affect the stability of the entire region.” 

That same month, Egypt and Sudan signed a military cooperation agreement and the two armies conducted joint military exercises. By the end of 2021, Egypt had signed similar agreements with Kenya, Uganda, and Burundi, allying itself with more countries surrounding Ethiopia. 

Should military action become imminent, international support would likely fall on the side of Egypt and Sudan. The two have made significant efforts to engage Ethiopia on the issue and have sought the help of numerous international mediators including the African Union, the European Union, and the United Nations. Ethiopia has rejected all proposals. Furthermore, the recent inauguration of the GERD’s turbines has been decried as a violation of the Declaration of Principles agreement signed by all three countries; this pact prohibits unilateral actions that affect the GERD.

One reason Ethiopia is clinging so tightly to sovereignty over the GERD is because of the dam’s role as a domestic rallying point. In recent years the country has been devastated by COVID-19 and the bloody civil war in Tigray, and the dam has served as a bright spot and uniting force. The government has also spread propaganda that Egypt and Sudan are trying to undermine Ethiopia; acquiescing to a binding agreement could portray it as weak. 

These motives are not strong enough for Ethiopia to justify rebuffing negotiations. Compromising with Egypt and Sudan means that the GERD would generate less electricity than it is capable of, but there will still be a marked improvement over current production levels and tensions in the region will ease. Additionally, Ethiopia might be able to arrange for the GERD to operate at a greater capacity when the Nile has a higher-than-usual flow level, which occurs every seven years or so. 

Despite incentive to do so, continuing to ignore Egypt and Sudan and make unilateral decisions about the GERD is not in Ethiopia’s best interest. The best-case outcome would be maintenance of the status quo and continued tension in the region. This will not last forever; no country will allow a resource as critical as water to be controlled by a foreign power. Egypt and Sudan have demonstrated that military action is not off the table, and they will eventually run out of patience. Compared to the marginal benefits of governing the GERD independently, the cost of doing so — the potential for a war that will take too many lives and further decimate a country and the very economy it is trying to improve — would be far greater.

Though the Biden administration deemed the operation a success, with the president calling it a “testament to America’s reach and capability to take out terrorist threats no matter where they try to hide,” this raid is merely the latest in a string of military actions spanning the last two decades that have been predicated on a continually distorted Congressional resolution that was never meant to last this long — the 2001 Authorization for the Use of Military Force (AUMF).

The AUMF, hurriedly signed into law exactly one week after the 9/11 attacks, is a brief 60-word statement asserting “that the President is authorized to use all necessary and appropriate force against those nations, organizations or persons he determines planned, authorized, committed or aided the terrorist attacks that occurred on September 11, 2001, or harbored such organizations or persons in order to prevent any future acts of international terrorism against the United States by such nations, organizations or persons.” 

Though it was intended to be solely used against those directly responsible for 9/11, the AUMF has come to be the justification given for much of the U.S. military’s involvement in the Middle East over the last twenty years. It gives presidents the freedom to authorize military action without Congressional approval or oversight, a dangerous liberty that has been utilized to deploy forces in Afghanistan, the Philippines, Georgia, Yemen, Djibouti, Kenya, Ethiopia, Eritrea, Iraq, Somalia and and carry out covert operations in other unknown countries. In a situation eerily similar to the one earlier this month, the AUMF was used to authorize a raid in Syria in 2019 that killed the previous leader of ISIS, Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi. 

Since it was passed, every administration has stretched the AUMF’s meaning to apply to “associated forces” of al-Qaeda — people or groups it deems as having been in some way related to the 9/11 attacks — even though in most of these cases there is little or no connection. According to Foreign Policy For America, the AUMF has been used to justify 41 operations in 19 countries and, as a result, “has killed more than half a million people, created 21 million refugees and displaced persons in the region, and cost the United States six trillion dollars.”

In the case of this most recent raid (and the 2019 one), attempts to establish ISIS as an associated force to al-Qaeda fall apart under even shallow scrutiny. Though ISIS began as al-Qaeda in Iraq (AQI), the two publicly cut ties in 2014 and have even attacked  each other. At this point, they are far closer to rivals than allies. Additionally, ISIS was not founded until 2004, making it impossible for the group to have been involved in the 9/11 attacks. Clearly, the AUMF clearly does not apply to ISIS. However, the Biden administration’s use of the law as justification for intervention has raised no criticism or alarm — it is simply commonplace now.

Though several attempts have been made to repeal or revise both the 2001 AUMF and the second version passed in 2002 that greenlit the U.S. invasion of Iraq, none have been successful thus far. In June 2021, the House of Representatives voted in favor of repealing the 2002 AUMF, a promising step forward. The measure has not yet been voted on by the Senate, but an endorsement by President Biden and the bipartisan support it has received thus far signal a favorable outcome for the bill once it reaches the Senate floor.

According to White House press secretary Jen Psaki, the administration is “committed to working with Congress to ensure that the authorizations for the use of military force currently on the books are replaced with a narrow and specific framework that will ensure we can protect Americans from terrorist threats while ending the forever wars,” a statement made ironic by Biden’s own reliance on the AUMF to conduct the raid in Syria.

Functionally, the last two decades have shown that the U.S. president can attack almost anyone they desire and find a way for the AUMF to cover it (particularly if the target is in the Middle East), concentrating an obscene amount of power into a single person’s hands.The 2001 and 2002 AUMFs need to be repealed and replaced to rebalance governmental war powers.

Congress may have reason to authorize a new AUMF sooner rather than later. Douglas Becker, an associate professor at the University of Southern California specializing in legitimation discourses, conflict resolution and historical memory, believes there is a chance a new one may be passed to deal with the Russian invasion of Ukraine. Becker says that there has been “a bipartisan call that if the U.S. is going to engage in any military actions in Ukraine, there needs to be a new AUMF; it is almost impossible to craft a justification for military action in Europe based on the 2001 AUMF.”

The current extreme polarization of the U.S. government has turned the congressional floor into a battlefield between political parties, but the united response to the Russian invasion and the shared belief by Republicans and Democrats that the past AUMFs are an overextension of presidential power are encouraging signals that an agreement would be able to reached on a new AUMF, one that proves Congress has learned from its past mistakes.

The successor should institute much stricter guidelines on the military actions the president is allowed to authorize and include an expiration for the measure (potentially tied to an end in aggressive maneuvers by Russia), a predetermined list of groups and nations the United States is fighting against and an explicit statement saying that the U.S. cannot deviate from that list unless other parties join the conflict at a later date. 

Doing so would limit the authorization from being interpreted beyond its original intent and thus prevent future presidents from manipulating it to justify military intervention. 

The black market for donkeys is growing, primarily because China is eager to get ahold of donkey skin. The gelatin created from boiling the skin is the key ingredient in ejiao, a traditional Chinese medicine that has historically been used to treat blood diseases and reproductive issues. Though there is no clinical evidence proving the benefits of ejiao, it recently gained popularity as a general wellness supplement and has been added to liquor, desserts, moisturizers and a variety of other commercial products. 

The demand for ejiao has been steadily increasing over the last two decades in China and caused the country’s population of native donkeys to plummet from 11 million in 1990 to 3 million in 2020, a sharp decline of just under 73%. Several estimates predict that the current demand for ejiao in China would require 4 million donkeys per year from a population that can supply just 1.8 million.

The high price of ejiao — almost $400 per kilogram — incentivizes producers to try and meet consumer demand, despite the difficulty of acquiring enough donkeys. To overcome the shortages, manufacturers sought solutions abroad and found an answer to their problem in developing countries, where donkeys are often plentiful and cheap. Chinese manufacturers source their donkey skins from a variety of locations, including Brazil, Pakistan and Colombia, but most of their stock comes from African countries, particularly Kenya, Niger, Botswana, Zimbabwe and Tanzania. 

After over a decade supplying China, these countries are now feeling the strain, and their donkey populations are taking a major hit as they try to accommodate the rising number of exports. In the last 12 years, Kenya’s donkey population has fallen by 33% and Botswana’s by 39%. 

Zimbabwe, Kenya, Niger and Tanzania have tried to rectify the situation by banning the slaughter of donkeys and the export of their hides — but these laws are not strictly enforced. As a result, the number sent abroad remains the same. Additionally, no solutions have been implemented to dissuade illegal poaching, which is the source of a significant portion of exports.

But not only is the donkey trade illegal, but many are concerned about the trade’s ethical considerations. The animals involved are treated inhumanely and often live in atrocious conditions. They are packed onto trucks and driven for days without being given adequate food or water. Several reports document donkeys often arriving at their final destinations on the brink of death, with broken bones or covered in wounds. 

Donkey sellers are not concerned with the condition in which the animals are delivered, since this does not affect the condition of the skin. In fact, sellers are often incentivized to treat these animals harshly in an effort to maximize profit from buyers who will pay less for live donkeys that they have to kill themselves. 

The international black market also makes life difficult for the people who are left without their animals. In the countries that provide the most donkeys, a significant portion of the population relies on the animals for fetching water and firewood, aiding in planting and harvesting crops and providing transportation to school and work. With the current demand for donkeys being as high as it is, families often wake up to find their donkeys missing, often because of looters. 

These same families are then priced out of purchasing a new animal, as stock is low and skin sellers often quickly purchase donkeys that are for sale at higher prices. From 2012 to 2016, the average price of a donkey in Niger shot up from $34 to $145. If a family is unable to procure another donkey, its tasks are typically reassigned to wives or daughters, further increasing the workload of women who already live with a heavy burden of labor.

The donkey trade also presents serious risks for the rest of the world. A 2019 report by The Donkey Sanctuary, a United Kingdom-based nonprofit, found that it “creates a significant biosecurity risk for all countries that donkeys, and their products, are transported through” and that “the spread of disease to the global donkey population, to other animals and to humans is a major threat.” Considering the COVID-19 pandemic and its origins, the risks to global health posed by the donkey trade warrant serious consideration. The report also highlights the massive amounts of ecological pollution generated by the unregulated dumping and improper disposal of donkey carcasses. Harmful by-products of the slaughter process sometimes end up in waterways, contaminating important sources of water for people, animals and crops. 

Despite the many downsides of the donkey trade, not much is currently being done to prevent it. Many of the countries that the donkeys come from have made their slaughter and the sale of their skin illegal, but are unable to enforce these laws. This week, Rep. Don Beyer (D-VA) introduced a bill in the U.S. House of Representatives urging Congress to halt all sale and importation of donkey-hide gelatin products into the United States. The bill is still in its early introductory stages. Meanwhile, China has made no effort to prevent it; in fact, the country even reduced the import tax on donkeys from 5% to 2% in 2018.

Additionally, although Chinese demand for ejiao is what drove this problem to its extreme, other countries are also complicit. A report by Humane Society International found that 13 other countries import over one million dollars worth of ejiao a year (including the United States, which is the fourth largest importer at $12 million dollars a year), and none have taken steps to regulate the industry. 

One possible solution is for governments to support the application of cellular agriculture to the ejiao industry by funding research in this area or offering incentives to manufacturers who use it. Recent scientific advancements have made the artificial production of animal collagen a viable alternative to the traditional process of boiling donkey skin; lab-grown skin or collagen produced from donkey cells could provide ejiao manufacturers with a constant supply of ethical and hygienic raw material. 

For the welfare of the global donkey population and the people harmed by its decline, animal rights activists and experts believe that the production of ejiao needs to be either entirely revamped to rely on a lab-grown supply of material or closely supervised and controlled by the biggest importers of the product to ensure manufacturers follow strict regulations regarding the treatment of and compensation for donkeys. The system in its current state is unsustainable and will continue to worsen without intervention.

Over the last few years however, one facet of Thai society, the monarchy, has increasingly come into question. A USC student from Thailand, speaking anonymously for safety concerns and hereafter referred to as TS, said that “people are taking examples from Hong Kong and protests elsewhere” to determine what place, if any, the monarchy has in a modern Thailand.

The anti-monarchy movement began to take hold following the death of King Rama IX in 2016 and the subsequent appointment of his son, King Rama X. The new king, who spends most of his time in Europe and is notorious for his playboy attitude, is not nearly as popular among the people as his father was. His ascension to the throne coincided with political turbulence that had been present and ongoing since 2014, when a successful military coup took over the government and installed Prayuth Chan-ocha as the prime minister of Thailand. The coup occurred after months of protests and conflict between the administration of Yingluck Shinawatra, the previous prime minister, and other political parties. Chan-ocha, who was the general that led the coup, was the only candidate in an election that was essentially a formality. Dissatisfaction and political frustration continued to rise in the country until it finally boiled over in 2019. 

In December 2019, thousands of people took to the streets of Bangkok to protest a ruling by the Thai Constitutional Court that banned and eventually dissolved, the Future Forward party from the Thai Parliament. The party housed some of the most vocal political opposition to Prime Minister Prayuth Chan-ocha. According to Amnesty International, the charges were politically motivated; the court ruled that a loan of approximately $6 million to Future Forward from party leader Thanathorn Juangroongruangkit counted as a donation instead and so violated the approximately $316,000 donation limit. The protests were also a response to Chan-ocha’s reappointment in March 2019, following an election of questionable legitimacy. 

“When they [the Thai Constitutional Court]dissolved the party, that was the first trigger of the protests. People had been trying to fight for democracy through very peaceful means, both in and out of Congress, and when the attempt inside of Congress didn’t work and the party was now very unfairly gone, people started to get really angry,” TS said.

After a months-long break due to efforts to prevent the spread of the coronavirus, the protests resumed in July 2020, largely led by university students and orchestrated through social media. The turning point came in August when a statement by Panusaya Sithijirawattanakul, a 21-year-old student, clarified the demands of the protestors and united them behind a goal of reforming the monarchy and democratizing the government. Sithijirawattanakul was arrested in October 2020 and, as of publication, remains in detention and on her 22nd day of a hunger strike.

TS, who attended four protests during the height of the movement from October to December, described the protests as being highly organized despite having no centralized leader and being pulled together solely through Facebook, Twitter and Telegram. During the protests, people would pass messages back and forth, sending along requests from the front lines for “supplies like umbrellas and helmets to protect against the water guns.”

The protests continued throughout the rest of 2020, and by the end of the year at least 234 people were charged with crimes relating to the rallies, including nine leaders of the movement who are still jailed and awaiting trial. Tensions rose in early 2021 as the government stepped up its response by declaring involvement in the protests illegal and instructing the police to use harsher methods of deterrence including tear gas, rubber bullets and water cannons. This has gradually caused protest sizes to shrink from their peak of up to 30,000 people, but protestors still turn out in the 1000s. 

Additionally, Thailand’s lèse-majesté law, which under the king’s orders had been minimally enforced since 2018, is being put to use again to punish protesters. Under the lèse-majesté law, also known as Article 112, insulting or defaming the royal family carries a severe penalty. In January 2021, a 60-year-old former civil servant was sentenced under Article 112 to 43 years and six months in prison (after a four year pretrial detention) for posting audio clips to Facebook in 2014 that were deemed to be critical of the monarchy. The increasing usage of the lèse-majesté law is directly tied to the king, according to TS.

“There’s no written evidence of this but everyone just knows that the king got really mad [about the protests]and told top military people to start using 112 again,” TS said.

The protests died down for a short while following the implementation of these harsher measures but have picked up again in recent weeks, rekindled by the fight for democracy in neighboring Myanmar, where a coup recently installed a military government. In the protests following the coup, activists in Myanmar gave the three-finger “Hunger Games” salute of resistance favored by Thai protestors. Showing solidarity in return, protests in Thailand resumed to the soundtrack of clanging pots and pans, the method of dissent used by protestors in Myanmar. 

Thailand and Myanmar join Hong Kong and Taiwan as two more countries in Asia where democratic movements have recently taken hold. Online activism by protestors has created strong bonds between organizers in the four countries and led to the formation of the so-called Milk Tea Alliance, which recently got its own Twitter emoji — a white cup set against a background of milk tea colours from the countries where the alliance initially formed. Roger Huang, a lecturer on political violence at Sydney’s Macquarie University, says that “the milk tea alliance could potentially turn into a genuine transnational anti-authoritarian movement.”

Despite the COVID-19 pandemic and the lèse-majesté law leading to dwindling numbers, the protests of this last year have made great progress in changing public perception of the monarchy and differ greatly from past civil unrest in Thailand. Dr. Tamara Loos, a professor at Cornell University’s Department of History, notes that today “Thai citizens openly challenge the role of the monarchy in Thai cultural and political life, which reveals a revolutionary cultural shift. Self-censorship and lese majesté laws that once prevented Thais from publicly expressing their concerns about the role of the monarchy in politics no longer apply. The institution of the monarchy is now subject to public debate and discussion.”

“We’ve never really had a movement from the bottom up like this,” TS said. “The younger generation definitely has a very different view on the place of the monarchy in Thai society that kind of spreads out to other generations as well [through the protests], and people on the fence are maybe reconsidering or at least reflecting on why they have always had those views.” 

Though protests are still happening, their demands have shifted to the return of their jailed leaders rather than the initial lofty goals of reforming the monarchy. Without clear leadership or direction, the campaign is losing steam and at risk of dying out. According to Dr. Tamara Loos, a likely scenario is “a continuation of protests and arrest of its leaders until the movement is drained of momentum,” followed by “a future conflict between those who want genuine change in Thailand’s political institutions and the military.”

“In the shorter term there’s not really a solution; we’re kind of stuck in a gridlock, but I think there’s been a shift internally and we’re going to see that definitely come out as real changes in the next 10 or 20 years,” TS said. 

However, for a significant portion of Qatar’s population — the over two million migrant workers in the country — the World Cup has brought a more nefarious and dark context to the country. For over a decade, human rights abuses under the kafala system, the sponsorship-based employment used by many countries in the Middle East to exploit migrant workers and trap them into a modern-day version of slavery, have persisted — all in an attempt to prepare the country for the 2022 games. Most of Qatar’s foreign workers are employed on projects directly or indirectly connected to the World Cup, such as constructing infrastructure for the new city being built for the event, and will transition to work in service-oriented roles as the tournament draws closer.

Apart from Qatar, the other countries that allow the kafala system are Bahrain, Kuwait, Oman, Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, Jordan and Lebanon. Each country has its own specific provisions and legal framework, but all share the same basic concept: government agencies, local individuals or companies in the country employ foreign laborers through sponsorship permits. In addition to salary, the sponsors cover travel expenses from the workers’ home country as well as housing, usually in communal dormitories or, for domestic workers, in the sponsor’s house.

Legally, the kafala system is under the jurisdiction of interior ministries instead of labor ministries, so sponsored workers do not have the protections extended to other workers under the host country’s labor laws. As a result, many experience forced labor, unpaid or unfair wages and excessive working hours.

Additionally, since only sponsors can extend or end the permits allowing workers to be in the country, private citizens have an inordinate amount of control over their workers’ legal statuses without oversight. Workers cannot switch jobs, quit before the end of their contract or leave the country without the permission of their employer. The penalty for doing so depends on the country but can range from revocation of the workers’ legal status to imprisonment or deportation, even if they were trying to escape abusive circumstances (which is not an uncommon situation). 

Though the kafala system applies to all foreign workers, racism plays a large role in how workers are treated. People from Africa or South Asia are typically relegated to lower paying jobs and face much higher levels of discrimination than Europeans or Americans. Additionally, according to the Council on Foreign Relations, the contracts offered to Westerners are less restricting and have fairer terms than the ones given to workers from other countries. Gender-based violence is also common; women, especially domestic workers, experience high levels of harassment and sexual assault but often do not report it to authorities, fearing retaliation by their sponsors.

In Qatar, foreign workers make up approximately 95% of the total labor force, with the vast majority working jobs related to the World Cup. A report from The Guardian found that these migrant workers live and work in poor conditions and that over 6,500 South Asian workers have died in Qatar since it began World Cup preparations ten years ago, an average of 12 deaths each week. Nick McGeehan, co-founder of FairSquare Projects, an advocacy group for migrant workers in the Gulf, said that these deaths are directly related to the World Cup.

“A very significant proportion of the migrant workers who have died since 2011 were only in the country because Qatar won the right to host the World Cup,” he said. 

According to the Guardian, the death toll is very likely higher than what is reported from the Qatari government since the findings do not include people from Southeast Asia or Africa, where a significant number of Qatar’s workers come from. 

Because of the spotlight the World Cup has placed on Qatar, the country has pledged to make reforms to the kafala system — though many of these have not materialized. In 2014, Qatar claimed it was abolishing the kafala system and proposed changes that would institute new regulations and penalties to ensure workers are treated fairly and remove the need for permission from an employer for a worker to leave the country or switch jobs at the end of their contract. These changes were implemented in December 2016 and promptly reversed by the emir three weeks later in January 2017 without explanation.

Following the lack of progress on foreign workers’ rights, Qatar signed an agreement with the United Nations International Labour Organization in November 2017 that has led to some lasting reforms. The government has since passed laws allowing workers to collect compensation for abusive situations and establishing dispute committees to fairly mediate conflict between workers and employers. In January 2020, Qatar announced that migrant workers will no longer need permission from employers to leave, though advance notice is required for domestic workers and employers can apply for a permit requiring up to 5% of their foreign staff to seek prior consent to leave. Additional reforms enacted in September 2020 set a higher minimum wage for all workers and allowed migrant workers to switch jobs without employer permission.

However, this string of positive changes may soon be coming to an end. Following the September 2020 kafala reforms businesses argued that the changes were infringing on their rights as employers and the revised laws were sent to the Shura Council, Qatar’s legislative body, for review. After months of deliberation, the Council issued recommendations in February 2021 that would undo much of the progress that has been made. According to Amnesty International, the suggestions include “removing the right of migrant workers to change jobs during their contract, limiting the number of times they can change jobs during their stay in Qatar to three, restricting the number of workers in a company that can change jobs to 15% unless agreed otherwise by the company, and increasing the percentage of workers who require exit permits to leave Qatar from 5% to 10%.” A decision to accept or deny the Shura Council’s recommendations has not yet been made, but the previous reversal of reforms in January 2017 occurred after similar suggestions from the council.

Throughout the last decade, despite the constant push for improved workers’ rights in Qatar, FIFA has been remarkably quiet on the matter. After Amnesty International published a report on migrant workers in Qatar in 2015, FIFA put out a statement saying that they “are on the right track and [are]committed to continue improving to further contribute to the protection of workers’ rights at the FIFA World Cup stadium projects.” FIFA also established its Human Rights Policy in 2017 and published its World Cup Qatar 2022 Sustainability Strategy in 2019, pledging to leave behind “a legacy of world-class standards and practices for workers in Qatar and internationally”, but none of these mention specific actions it is taking beyond “supporting the Qatari government with continued reform.” 

In March 2021, following reports in the media on migrant worker deaths, FIFA President Gianni Infantino acknowledged the tragedy of the deaths, but ultimately warned against a boycott of the 2022 World Cup.

“Our position at FIFA has always been, and will always be, engagement and dialogue is the only and the best way forward to make changes happen,” Infantino said.

Since FIFA has not taken a firm stance on the issue, teams competing in World Cup qualifiers are taking things into their own hands. Players on Norway’s national soccer team lined up before their game against Gibraltar on March 24, wearing shirts that read: “Human Rights — on and off the pitch.” Teams from Germany, the Netherlands and Denmark have followed suit with similar protests.

Though FIFA has historically been opposed to political statements during games and has previously fined teams for taking such actions, a spokesperson for the organization said that they would allow players to continue with such demonstrations.

“FIFA believes in the freedom of speech and in the power of football as a force for good,” FIFA said. “No disciplinary proceedings in relation to this matter will be opened by FIFA.”

The international response has been similarly muted; apart from the European Parliament, which demanded in 2020 that FIFA send a strong message to Qatar that the World Cup should not be “delivered by the assistance of modern slavery,” no other countries or blocs have spoken out, despite efforts by non-governmental organizations to convince them to do so. In 2014 a case was brought against Qatar by the UN International Organization for Labor over the treatment of migrant workers, but this was dropped in 2017 after the country committed to the reforms that the Shura Council recently recommended reversing.

International sports competitions such as the World Cup bring together people from all over the world in a way that transcends cultural and political differences and allows countries to deepen their relationships in a low-stakes environment. Michel Raspaud, a professor at Grenoble Alpes University whose research focuses on the sociology of sports and sports tourism, writes that Qatar is particularly noteworthy for its use of sports diplomacy and has made “sports a major diplomatic axis that provides the country with international recognition, affirming its role as a regional player and contributing to its security [as]a sort of all-purpose safety valve for tension in the short and medium term.” 

However, Raspaud goes on to say that the positive message Qatar is trying to convey through the 2022 World Cup is “undermined by the contradiction between the values of sports that are emphasized (respect, progress, fairness, etc.) and the social and political situation in a country where labor rights and the status of women and foreigners remain problematic.”

As the World Cup draws closer, attention on Qatar will continue to increase and the country will continue to face scrutiny for the actions it takes that affect migrant workers. Qatar is at a major crossroads, and the over two-thirds of its population at the mercy of the kafala system is waiting to see whether it bends to the Shura Council’s recommendations and returns to the traditional restrictions or concedes to international pressure and maintains its recent reforms.

The dam’s primary purpose is to generate electricity for the 70% of Ethiopia’s rural population who lack it. The dam is also meant to enrich the country through the sale of excess electricity. The giant infrastructure undertaking also serves as a rallying point for Ethiopians who see it as a way for their country to move out of poverty. 

On the other hand, Egypt and Sudan, as downstream countries, are worried that the GERD will permanently decrease the amount of water that reaches them. Egypt, which is dependent on the Nile for agriculture, hydropower and 94% of the country’s total water supply, is particularly threatened and has opposed the GERD since its conception in 2011. Ethiopia claims that the dam will help its people without harming Sudan or Egypt, while Egypt says that the GERD will short the country on the resources it needs. 

With both sides making such bold statements about the benefits and consequences  of the dam, it is difficult to determine which statements are true and what environmental impact the GERD will end up having.

This situation with the GERD is reminiscent of the controversy surrounding the Aswan High Dam, another dam on the Nile that was completed in 1970 and is located in Egypt. Similar to Ethiopia’s desire to use the electricity and profits generated by the GERD to advance as a country, the Aswan High Dam was a point of pride amongst the Egyptian people and a key factor in Egypt nationalizing the Suez Canal and taking back control of it and their country from European nations (the revenue from the canal was needed to fund the dam).

Before the construction of the Aswan High Dam, there were numerous concerns that it would end up doing more harm than good to the surrounding environment. Critics worried that the dam would lead to sedimentation in the reservoir, erosion of the coast and the land at the base of the dam, an increase in the spread of diseases and decreased soil fertility in the area.

The Aswan High Dam has been in use for over 50 years now, and according to several experts including Cecilia Tortajada, editor-in-chief of the International Journal of Water Resources Development and senior research fellow at the Institute of Water Policy, and Asit Biswas, member of the World Commission on Water and co-founder of the International Water Resources Association and the World Water Council, the benefits have thus far proven to outweigh its negative effects. The dam’s primary mission is to stabilize the flood-drought cycle of the Nile in Egypt, and from this point of view it has been an unequivocal success. Since the dam was completed, the Nile’s annual flood has not harmed human lives or agricultural land, and enough water has been stored to see Egypt through all subsequent drought years. Another positive side effect of the Aswan High Dam is that the regulation of the Nile’s flow has allowed for year-round irrigation, leading to two or three harvests per year instead of just one. Additionally, the electricity it generated was the main source of power for Egypt until recently, and a key propellant behind the country’s rapid industrialization.

The impact of the Aswan High Dam has not been entirely rosy though; it has led to an increase in the salinity of both the water and the nearby soil used for agriculture, a severe reduction in the silt that has traditionally fertilized the soil, the collapse of some river banks, and infestations of various aquatic weeds. However, the widely accepted consensus is that these side effects can be managed and are far eclipsed by the positives of the dam.

There is no way to be sure what effects the GERD will have, but estimates have been made based on the fallout from the High Aswan Dam and simulations of various scenarios, including failure of the dam and drought and flood seasons. According to Abdelkader Ahmed, a professor of environmental engineering at at Aswan University, the initial filling of the reservoir will flood existing plants in the area (which is heavily occupied by tropical shrubs), killing them off en masse and leading to a large release of carbon dioxide emissions (between one and eight million tons) as they decompose. It will also affect the spawning and migration of several fish species that may become disoriented by the changing temperatures and currents. However, since the GERD is located by Ethiopia’s border, it will likely not cause major changes to the country’s water supply or agricultural land.

Sudan is in a unique in-between position because the GERD stands to benefit the country but also puts it in harm’s way. The GERD will stabilize the flow of the Nile in Sudan and allow for agricultural production year-round (similar to the effect the High Aswan Dam had on Egypt). However, Sudan is also the country most at risk if the dam should fail. Models created by faculty at American University of Sharjah and United Arab Emirates University found that because the GERD is located in an area of Ethiopia prone to earthquakes and surrounded by steep mountains with high rates of erosion and landslides, geological activity is the most likely reason why it would fail. Regardless of the reason, if the GERD collapses, Sudan will face catastrophic damage including the flooding of almost 10,000 mi² of agricultural land and roads and the transformation of Khartoum, the country’s capital, into a lake.

The forecasted impact for Egypt is not as favorable as the other two countries. A study conducted by researchers at Zagazig University in Egypt and the Technical University of Kosice in Slovakia found that the GERD will reduce the level of both groundwater and surface water in Egypt, which would be detrimental to the agricultural output since most crops grown in the country require large amounts of water. However, if farmers switch to growing crops that use less water, the lower groundwater levels combined with less watering of the plants will increase the salinity of the soil to a level that will damage soil productivity, putting Egyptian farmers in a no-win situation. The dam also inhibits the flow of nutrient-rich sediment that has traditionally replenished downstream agricultural land, further handicapping production capabilities. This could become a serious problem if agricultural output decreases as Egypt’s population growth continues to outpace the ability of the country’s resources to to support it.

The decreased groundwater and surface water levels are concerning on their own since Egypt is already facing increasing levels of water scarcity and has one of the lowest per capita shares of water in the world. According to the United Nations, Egypt is under the water poverty threshold, and will face an “absolute water crisis” by 2025. The country is also concerned about whether Ethiopia will permit the necessary amount of water to be released from the GERD’s reservoir during drought years. Though many talks have taken place between Egypt, Ethiopia and Sudan over the GERD, no agreements have been made about protocol during droughts. For Egypt, whose water supplies are already being stretched very thin, how Ethiopia chooses to react to the next drought could be an inflection point for the country.

It is clear that though the GERD will bring many benefits for Ethiopia and Sudan, Egypt will not share in the good fortune. Regardless, the dam has already been built and the reservoir is filled partway. At this junction it is crucial for the leaders of all three countries to come together to determine how to maximize the GERD’s utility for Ethiopia and Sudan within the constraints of maintaining Egypt’s access to necessary resources. 

Stateless people are those without a nationality — people who are not recognized by any country in the world, even the one they live in. They often lack access to basic rights including healthcare, employment, education and political participation in the country they live in. Without citizenship, stateless people are unable to attend public schools and gain equal access to education, take advantage of subsidized medical costs, or meet work permit requirements. Essentially, stateless individuals are locked into a cycle of poverty.  

A 2013 report by the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees formally identified 60 stateless people in Egypt, but acknowledged that it was unable to report accurate numbers, as they can only include those who come to the UNHCR office for aid. UNHCR found that there are actually hundreds of thousands of stateless people in the country. Many of these people are stateless because they are refugees (and so considered de facto stateless by the UN) or don’t qualify for citizenship under Egypt’s strict nationality laws. In Egypt, citizenship is passed down only through males; even children born in Egypt to Egyptian mothers and non-Egyptian fathers are not given citizenship. 

However, the majority of stateless people come from territory on the edges of Egypt’s borders, land that has been claimed or occupied by two or more countries. Most of them are tribespeople who have lived in the same area for generations, but are suffering from disputes between countries, particularly in the Hala’ib Triangle (claimed by both Egypt and Sudan) and Sinai (occupied by Israel until 1982). The Egyptian government assured them citizenship decades ago, but for most, this promise has remained unfulfilled.

In the last few years, the stateless tribes have started working closely with the Egyptian government to aid them in anti-terrorism operations. Given weapons, vehicles and tactical support, tribespeople are sent on campaigns to confront offshoots of the Islamic State, repaid with amnesty for their actions and citizenship when they return. Many tribespeople have agreed to work with the government, believing employment and citizenship are worth the danger of these missions. However, many tribespeople have died or been injured during these campaigns and, as a result of this new allegiance, terrorist groups are targeting tribal villages as well, dragging innocent people into the conflict. 

Apart from the damage caused by the involvement of the tribespeople in anti-terrorism missions, the Egyptian government has also made life difficult for tribes that have refused to work with it. One such tribe, the Azazma, have had their names excluded from government records and have not received official identity cards, which are required to receive any government services and have been given to other nearby tribes.

Besides using citizenship as a tool to recruit the tribespeople, the Egyptian government has also recently begun threatening citizenship revocation to deter human rights activists. On December 24, 2020, political activist Ghada Naguib had her citizenship stripped by the government. This decision was likely triggered by Naguib accusing a senior intelligence officer of being behind the disappearance of a different activist, Doaa Khalifa, who had previously accused the same officer of blackmail. This situation is the first use of the 2017 amendments to Egypt’s nationality law, which expanded the circumstances in which the government can revoke citizenship and worried human rights activists around the world.

Egypt has grown increasingly authoritarian since President Abdel Fattah al-Sisi took power in 2013, with human rights abuses increasing while individual freedoms are increasingly restricted. According to Freedom House, the country’s Freedom Score, which takes into account civil liberties and political rights, was 21/100 in 2020, and has been steadily decreasing over the past few years. However, removing Naguib’s citizenship is a new level for the al-Sisi regime, with Human Rights Watch Deputy Middle East and North Africa Director Joe Stork calling it a “shocking and dangerous precedent,” and saying that “Egyptian authorities are stooping to a new low in punishing dissent.”

While numerous human rights organizations around the world are outraged and have called on the Egyptian government to restore citizenship to Naguib, the reaction from foreign governments has notably been silent. This kind of bystanderism is what has allowed Egypt’s government to turn into a dictatorship and get away with constant human rights violations. President Donald Trump had long given al-Sisi a pass on his actions, even going as far as to call him his “favorite dictator.” 

The only way to curb this kind of behavior from Egypt in the future is for other countries to step in and take action in a way that lets Egypt know its repressive actions will not be tolerated. Unfortunately, this does not look likely in the near future — at least from the United States. The Biden administration stated in late February that human rights will be at the core of future relations with Egypt, then followed through with a sale of almost $200 million in missiles to the country only a few days after dissidents and their families (including U.S. citizens) were jailed by the Egyptian government. 

Regardless of whether Egypt continues to recruit tribespeople to fight its wars or strips nationality from other activists, it is clear that citizenship is just one more tool in the Egyptian government’s repertoire, and one that it is very willing to use.

This dispute between Armenia and Azerbaijan began almost a century ago in 1921, when Joseph Stalin gave the region of Nagorno-Karabakh to Azerbaijan, a Muslim-majority nation. However, almost 90% of the population identified as Armenian and Christian, and this action isolated the people of Nagorno-Karabakh, known as the Artsakh to Armenians, within a country they did not consider their own. 

Despite the circumstances, the situation remained relatively stable until the deterioration of the Soviet Union in the 1980s. In 1988, Nagorno-Karabakh announced that it wanted to join Armenia despite its location within Azerbaijan. Three years later, when the Soviet Union fell and Armenia and Azerbaijan became sovereign states, the two countries went to war to determine who would have authority over Nagorno-Karabakh.

The war was incredibly violent, lasting three years and causing the deaths of over 30,000 people. Many of the casualties were attributed to the ethnic cleansing carried out by forces on both sides, which also displaced tens of thousands of refugees. By the time a ceasefire was negotiated, Armenia had taken over Nagorno-Karabakh and much of the surrounding area. While the ceasefire, brokered by Russia, ended the war, the strained relations between Armenia and Azerbaijan persist. Since then, Nagorno-Karabakh continues to be a part of Azerbaijan but is primarily governed by a separatist republic run by ethnic Armenians and supported by the Armenian government. The Nagorno-Karabakh Line of Contact, the border separating the Armenian and Azerbaijani forces, remains one of the most militarized in the world.

The new resurgence of conflict hinted at the threat of an all-out war between the two countries, one that would likely involve the larger powers of Turkey and Russia. These two countries, who had previously worked together to manage the Armenia-Azerbaijan conflict, have also seen a deterioration of relations this year. In February, Russian airstrikes targeted and killed Turkish soldiers in Syria, and in May, Turkey sent military advisors, drones and Syrian fighters to Libya to oppose a Russian-backed political faction. Turkey and Russia are fighting each other through proxy wars in both Syria and Libya, and Nagorno-Karabakh could very well have been the third.

During the war in the 1990s, Turkey fully supported Azerbaijan (with whom it shares an ethnic and cultural heritage), even closing its border with Armenia in solidarity. Turkey and Armenia have long been at odds, with the latter pushing for recognition of the Armenian genocide in 1915 and the former refusing to acknowledge it. Russia has economic ties to both Armenia and Azerbaijan, but has a closer relationship with Armenia. Currently, Armenia hosts a Russian military base and is part of several Russian-led regional alliances that include the Eurasian Economic Union and the Collective Security Treaty Organization. 

Armenia had already claimed that Turkey is involved in this newest bout of fighting, and accused  a Turkish fighter jet of shooting down an Armenian jet in May. These claims were initially denied by Turkey, but satellite images of Azerbaijan showed parked Turkish planes. Later, Azerbaijan’s president admitted that the planes were there, but said they had not been used in combat. The Turkish president, Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, has openly declared support for Azerbaijan, and other governments monitoring the situation, including France and Russia, say that Azerbaijan has been attacking Nagorno-Karabakh with Turkish drones. These nations also allege that foreign fighters from Syria are being brought into the conflict by Turkey on behalf of Azerbaijan.

Russia, on the other hand, had called for restraint from the two countries and refrained from getting directly involved. Had Azerbaijan attacked civilian areas deeper in Armenia, a defense treaty between Russia and Armenia would have been triggered, forcing Russia to intervene militarily and counter Azerbaijan. Possibly in recognition of this, Azerbaijan mostly limited its attacks to territory claimed by the Armenian-led separatist government in Nagorno-Karabakh. 

Reactions from the rest of the international community were rather limited. The United States, France and Russia, the leaders of the OSCE Minsk Group that has been working to end the conflict since 1992, issued a joint statement condemning the escalation of violence, as did the European Union. However, no countries in either of these coalitions announced plans to get further involved in the situation. Seeing the reluctance of foreign governments, the Armenian diaspora took to the streets in protests around the world to try and generate media coverage and action. Hundreds of Armenians from all over Europe protested in front of the European Parliament building in Brussels in August. Similar action was taken by Armenians in the United States, particularly in southern California, which has the largest population of Armenians in the country. Despite their efforts, the intervention by foreign governments never came.

Two weeks after the fighting in September began, Russia negotiated a temporary ceasefire between Armenia and Azerbaijan in order to allow  for the return of prisoners and bodies of the deceased. This quickly fell apart following attacks in both Armenia and Azerbaijan the day after the ceasefire took effect, leading to accusations from both countries of violating the truce. This set off another week of fighting until a second ceasefire was established. Once again, it did not even last a full day.

On November 10th, a third attempt at peace was arranged by Russia, under which Armenia will return to Azerbaijan land that it had taken in during the war that followed the fall of the Soviet Union. The agreement, which is also supported by Turkey, deployed Russian peacekeepers along the Nagorno-Karabakh Line of Contact and required the Armenian forces to withdraw. The Russian peacekeepers are currently scheduled to remain there for five years, and will also be joined by Turkish forces. The ceasefire has held so far, hinting at a possible end to this round of conflict between Armenia and Azerbaijan. 

Since the news broke, Azerbaijanis have been celebrating the news, reveling in a victorious end to a long, drawn-out conflict. However, public sentiment in Armenia has been anything but relieved. After news of the ceasefire broke, protestors in the Armenian capital of Yerevan ransacked government buildings and attacked one of the Parliament speakers. Many Armenians feel betrayed by Russia, who they considered one of their closest allies. Only time will tell if the ceasefire will last, but whether it holds or not the tensions between Armenia and Azerbaijan will remain for a very long time.

This test comes on the heels of a Russian trial of direct-ascent anti-satellite missiles in April, and their experimentation with a nuclear-powered cruise missile that exploded in late 2019. Besides the obvious security concerns these new weapons pose, the increasingly frequent arms tests in space raise two important questions: Are there internationally agreed upon guidelines for space war? Or, is space an unclaimed frontier under no one country’s jurisdiction?

The answer to these questions is both yes and no. ‘Yes’ in that there technically is a United Nations treaty governing the activities of countries in space; ‘no’ in that it is often not heeded, does not include many provisions regarding space conflict and, considering current technological advancements, is extremely out of date as it was written in 1967. The treaty, known colloquially as the Outer Space Treaty, states broadly that all countries are free to explore space (assuming all risk involved, as well as liability for any damages that may occur), though none may claim sovereignty. It also asserts that weapons of mass destruction are forbidden in the Earth’s orbit and beyond, but makes no reference to less lethal weapons in space or anything that may target another country’s property and technology rather than human lives. 

The Outer Space Treaty became the backbone of international space law, and from it came four supplementary agreements, though these deal not with space conflict but with the logistics of resolving damage caused by space objects, the safety of astronauts, maintaining strict records of objects in space, and the protected status of the Moon and its resources. These too are relatively outdated, with the most recent of them being written in 1984.

Apart from the UN agreements, most countries also accept that, in space, international humanitarian law would apply. International humanitarian law is a set of rules protecting civilians and restricting the methods and tactics of warfare. Under the guidelines of the Geneva Conventions, international humanitarian law is to be followed in any situation with armed conflict, which could therefore encompass space disputes. However, methods of  practically implementing this law in space have yet to be determined, and situations requiring its applications have not yet arisen.

With a surge in the creation and testing of space weaponry since the turn of the century and the only international space laws being obsolete, independent organizations have taken this issue into their own hands. Two projects, in particular, decided it was time for a refresh and have been writing legal manuals detailing the laws of space conflict, similar to those created by independent organizations for other domains of war, such as the San Remo Manual for naval conflict. The Manual on International Law Applicable to Military Uses of Outer Space (MILAMOS) Project was started in 2016 by Mcgill University to clarify the position of international law on the use of force in space, and has received widespread international attention and support. The Woomera Manual is the other major project seeking to fill the gap in outer space regulation. A joint effort between the University of Exeter, the University of Adelaide, the University of Nebraska, and the University of New South Wales Canberra, the Woomera Manual is intended to be the conclusive document on military and security law as it applies to space. Both projects plan on publishing their completed works next year.

Besides the actual protocols and rules for space conflict, the consequences of potential confrontations also need to be considered and planned for. Any weapon that destroys another man-made creation in space‒ whether the result of an intentional attack or a test‒ creates thousands of pieces of debris that continue floating in space without any established method to get rid of them. This debris, which would still continue traveling at orbital speeds, can in turn crash into other space objects, creating a positive feedback loop that could end in Earth’s lower orbit becoming extremely polluted and inaccessible. 

In 2007, China tested an anti-satellite missile by destroying an out of use satellite. The missile accomplished its goal, but this single test created the largest debris field in human history. The U.S. military keeps tabs on large objects in space to predict possible collisions, and China’s ASAT test created 30% of the debris being tracked. Apart from space objects owned by the government or used for military purposes, satellites crucial for daily life that provide services like internet access, GPS signals, and weather information could be collateral damage. 

If not kept in check, even the testing of weapons in space, without any actual conflict, could significantly damage the technology we rely on.

More and more countries around the world‒  including India, Iran, France, Japan, and others‒ are developing military space programs, thereby increasing the risk of reckless actions and tests without any consideration for the consequences. It is imperative that international regulations be promptly developed and agreed upon to ensure that the testing and deployment of space weapons does not jeopardize the safety of Earth’s people and resources.