{ "article": { "title" : "Hanan Sharifa", "author" : "Hanan Sharifa", "category" : "interviews", "url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/global-resistance-art-hanan-sharifa", "date" : "2025-02-04 15:33:00 -0500", "img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/Hanan_Sharifa_063.jpg", "excerpt" : "", "content" : "Each garment I create under my brand, Hanan Sharifa, embodies my belief that clothing should evoke a sense of daydreaming. I personally oversee every aspect of production—from designing fabrics digitally and screen printing to dyeing and sewing—occasionally working with a small team in NewYork.This hands-on approach reflects my deliberate choice to reject the mechanical processes of fast fashion. Each piece is crafted with meticulous care and love, telling stories that celebrate beauty, joy, the diaspora and the complexities of being human.Ceramics, photography, performance, and video are integral to my work, shaping the world in which my clothing exists. My designs bridge the tangible and the spiritual, serving as conduits to liminality. Incorporating ceramics has enriched my process, providing a meditative, tactile practice that complements my fashion collections. These mediums converge to create pieces that empower wearers to feel shamelessly confident and beautiful.Central to my artistic ethos is my Moroccan American identity, often expressed through Arabic script, particularly my name, ‘Hanan,’ meaning ‘tender’ or ‘compassionate.’ By incorporating these words into my designs, I aim to foster empathy and challenge misconceptions about Arabic language and culture.Rooted in spirituality and romance, my art transcends fashion to offer a sanctuary from the demands of modern life. My work invites moments of inner peace, empowerment, and joy, encouraging wearers and viewers alike to embrace their beauty and strength.Through my work, I hope to inspire love and alignment, empowering wearers to navigate the complexities of this world with grace and resilience.EIP: How does working with ceramics challenge or enhance your creative process compared to other mediums?HANAN: Ceramics has helped me focus on the present moment, and step away from thinking about my business. I love its tactile quality and how it complements my collections. At the beginning of 2024, I felt a strong pull toward working with clay—almost like a download—and I’ve been answering that call since. I don’t see clay as a challenge but as another tool for expressing the language of my work and helps me get out of circular thinking. Working with clay is definitely a slower process than making garments, since it requires time to build, fire, glaze, and fire again. It also brings a layer of playfulness to my art that is a nice reminder when I go back to designing. At times I can get lost in the process of designing collections, and focus too much on what is marketable and what will sell, instead of what I like and the fun and energy that goes into the creation of it.EIP: Are there recurring themes or stories in your work that reflect your personal experiences or cultural heritage?HANAN: A recurring theme in my work has been writing my name in Arabic on my clothes either as a pattern or my logo. I started doing this because for a long time it was the only thing I could write in Arabic and it added to my story of my experience of the diaspora. It’s been an interesting journey writing it on garments, people either love it or fear it. I think the fear comes from not knowing what it says (even though I’m always explaining what it says), or people fear the language altogether. Hard to say which one it is, but I’m disappointed that Americans and the Western world fear the Arabic language so much, and—it goes without saying—fear the people who speak it too. I’m hoping I make it more approachable, more common to see.EIP: How do you see your art evolving in the future, and what role do ceramics play in that vision?HANAN: Last summer I had a salon style dinner party to celebrate my summer collection and soft launch the ceramics that accompanied the collection - I had all the guests wearing the collection, my friend Shauna of Joon Eats cooked us dinner at my friend Sunny’s beautiful loft in Bedstuy. And we had harpist Samantha and singer/composer-improviser Miriam Elhajli play music after dinner. I’m hoping to present more collections in this very intentional way, and have some more elaborate production, and funding to pay everyone involved. I think creating spaces like this for Arab women to come together and experience the clothing in this way - to gather in a space with the ceramics, to eat, and listen to music is a nurturing experience. Everyone said they felt healed afterwards!EIP: With such a hands-on approach to production, what aspects of crafting garments do you find most fulfilling or challenging?HANAN: I really feel blessed and honored to make the garments for those who buy from me. I think people can really feel the energy and love that I put into making them. I have moments where I stop and realize that I’m living my dream life and people pay me to make them my visions, and I feel very lucky for that. It’s easy to fall into a lack mindset, or have a desire to want more, which is fine, but being grateful along the way, looking around and seeing you have everything you need is important.But I will say, at times I really get over re-producing everything. It’s a lot of work juggling all the hats of the business. I occasionally have interns, and work with small batch productions but the work sometimes makes me feel like a robot. I’m hoping to move production to Morocco this year and get some Moroccans paid. I think having production go there will still feel fulfilling for me and carry the same message and add to the story and the world I’m creating.EIP: Your work exists at the intersection of the romantic and the spiritual. How do you balance these two elements when creating your pieces?HANAN: I think loving, giving or receiving, in a romantic, or platonic way, is a spiritual experience itself. So I think the two are already in conversation with each other and it’s not something I actively think of how to communicate, but just comes out because I am those things. I don’t overthink what I want to make, and I make what I want to wear, and I don’t overthink that either. I love love, I’m a deep feeler, I love having fun. I love laughing and making other people laugh. I love going out and looking my best. I love helping other people feel that way when they wear my clothes. And these are all a part of my life purpose - uplifting people through how they look and how they feel on the inside.I hope through my clothes and my ceramics I can offer a moment of inner peace for whoever experiences it. Living in this capitalist hellscape, women have been conditioned to not feel so deeply, not relax or flow like we’re naturally supposed to. Instead we’re told to grind, and overwork, and be a girlboss, (which is fine if that’s what you want to do) but it leaves us tired and exhausted. When in reality living like that is used as a tool to oppress and discriminate against us, specifically black and poc femmes. Because they know how powerful we are when our energy is aligned, we have the ability to shut current systems down. This is what I mean by wanting women to feel empowered and they’re best self when they wear the clothes or use the ceramics. I hope you feel that power that’s within us. •" } , "relatedposts": [ { "title" : "France in Revolt: Debt, Uranium, and the Costs of Macron-ism", "author" : "EIP Editors", "category" : "essays", "url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/france-in-revolt", "date" : "2025-09-14 22:39:00 -0400", "img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/Bloquons-Tout.jpg", "excerpt" : "France is burning again—not only on the streets of Paris but in the brittle foundations of its political economy. What began as a mass revolt against austerity and public-service cuts has become a national convulsion: roads blocked, train stations occupied, workplaces shut down under the call to “Bloquons Tout” (Let’s Block Everything). The collapse of François Bayrou’s government is only the latest symptom. At the root of the crisis is a political project: Macronism—the steady, decade-long tilt toward pro-business reforms, tax cuts for the wealthy, and austerity by default—that has hollowed out public revenue and narrowed citizens’ options.", "content" : "France is burning again—not only on the streets of Paris but in the brittle foundations of its political economy. What began as a mass revolt against austerity and public-service cuts has become a national convulsion: roads blocked, train stations occupied, workplaces shut down under the call to “Bloquons Tout” (Let’s Block Everything). The collapse of François Bayrou’s government is only the latest symptom. At the root of the crisis is a political project: Macronism—the steady, decade-long tilt toward pro-business reforms, tax cuts for the wealthy, and austerity by default—that has hollowed out public revenue and narrowed citizens’ options.Tax Cuts, Corporate Giveaways, and Rising DebtSince Emmanuel Macron took office in 2017, his administration rolled out a suite of pro-market reforms: the abolition of the broad wealth tax (ISF), replaced by a narrower property wealth tax (IFI); a sustained reduction of the corporate tax rate to about 25%; and a raft of tax measures framed as competitiveness fixes for companies and investors. Economists now estimate that Macron’s tax cuts account for a significant share of France’s rising public debt; his reforms helped widen deficits even before pandemic and energy-shock spending pushed them higher. Today France’s public debt sits near 113–114% of GDP, and ratings agencies and markets are watching closely. (Le Monde.fr)These policies did not produce the promised boom in broadly shared prosperity. Investment did not surge enough to offset lost revenue, and growth remained sluggish. The political consequence was predictable: when the state has less to spend, the burden of balancing budgets falls on cuts to pensions, healthcare, and social programs—measures that overwhelmingly hurt working-class and vulnerable communities. (Financial Times)Pension Reform, Social Fracture, and the Limits of ConsentMacron’s government pushed a controversial pension reform—raising the retirement age from 62 to 64—which sparked nationwide strikes and mass protests in 2023. The reform illustrated a defining feature of Macronism: when public consent falters, the state still presses forward with market-oriented restructuring, deepening social fracture and anger. The pension fight didn’t create the crisis so much as expose it. (Al Jazeera)Colonial Hangover: Uranium, Energy, and GeopoliticsFrance’s energy model has long rested on nuclear power—once a source of national pride for its emission-free nature, and geopolitical independence. Behind that story, however, is another: the colonial era’s extraction of uranium in places like Niger, where French companies (notably Orano/former Areva) secured resource access under unequal terms. As Niger reasserted sovereignty over its resources after the 2023 coup and pushed back on French access, the illusion of seamless “energy independence” began to crack. Losing preferential access to Nigerien uranium has widened France’s energy insecurity and amplified the fiscal squeeze: higher energy costs, the need to secure new supply chains, and political pressure to maintain subsidies for households. The politics of extraction are now returning home. (Le Monde.fr)Climate, Austerity, and the Moral EconomyAdd the climate emergency to the mix—record heatwaves, floods, and wildfires—and the picture becomes even more bleak. Infrastructure strain and rising costs of climate adaptation demand public investment, yet the government’s posture has been to trim and reprioritize spending to satisfy markets. In practice, that means the people least responsible for climate harm—low-income communities, migrants, and precarious workers—are asked to pay the price. The result is a moral and political rupture: climate vulnerability plus fiscal austerity equals radicalized grievance. (Financial Times)A Convergence of FailuresThis is why the current uprising cannot be reduced to a single grievance. It is the convergence of multiple failures: Economic: tax policy that favored the wealthy while starving the public purse; rising debt and cuts that fall on the poor. (Financial Times) Colonial: the unraveling of extractive arrangements that once propped up French energy and power. (Le Monde.fr) Ecological: climate shocks that amplify social need even as public services are stripped back. (Financial Times) The revolt has therefore drawn a broad constituency—students, unions, public-sector workers, and neighborhoods long marginalized by austerity. It is not merely a labor dispute; it is a crisis of legitimacy for a model of governance that privatized gains and socialized pain.What Macronism Tells Us About the Global MomentFrance is a cautionary tale for democracies worldwide. When political leaders prioritize tax breaks for capital and cut public goods to placate markets, they borrow political stability against the future. The bill eventually comes due—in rising debt, in weakened social cohesion, and in violent backlash. Where resource dependencies meet neoliberal retrenchment, the risk of social rupture grows.Three Questions for What Comes Next Will the French state return to a redistributive project—taxing wealth, reclaiming revenues, and investing in climate resilience—or double down on austerity? Can movements translate street power into institutional change that addresses colonial legacies (resource sovereignty) as well as domestic inequality? Will climate policy be woven into social policy—so that adaptation and justice go hand in hand—or will they remain separate priorities, deepening vulnerability? France stands at a crossroads: continue a model that funnels benefit to capital while exposing citizens to climate and economic shocks—or imagine a social contract rooted in redistribution, de-colonial resource politics, and ecological justice. The choice will not be made in the Élysée alone. It is being argued in the streets, in workplaces, and across borders where the costs of extraction were first paid.Everything is Political—and in France today, that truth has never been clearer." } , { "title" : "Nepal’s New Reckoning", "author" : "Tulsi Rauniyar", "category" : "", "url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/nepal-reckoning", "date" : "2025-09-11 18:11:00 -0400", "img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/nepal1-IMG_5694.jpg", "excerpt" : "From September 8-11, 2025, a massive popular uprising has taken place in Nepal, forcing the resignation of the Prime Minister and much of the government. We present some description and first reflections on the protests and riots, which were sparked by a social media ban and anger over government corruption and nepotism.", "content" : "From September 8-11, 2025, a massive popular uprising has taken place in Nepal, forcing the resignation of the Prime Minister and much of the government. We present some description and first reflections on the protests and riots, which were sparked by a social media ban and anger over government corruption and nepotism.September 8In the white glare of a late summer morning, the broad avenues of Kathmandu, Nepal’s modern capital, are usually thrumming with traffic and smog. But on this sweltering day, the streets were crowded with chanting protesters, all of them demonstrating against the government of KP Sharma Oli. The largest crowd by far was made up of Gen-Z youth, most in their twenties, many still in school and college uniforms.For Nepal, such eruptions aren’t new: generations have risen before—against Rana autocrats in the 1950s, against royal rule in 1990, against King Gyanendra’s coup in 2005—only to watch hard-won freedoms erode. But for many of the protestors I spoke to, this was likely their first gathering. Their mission, organised on Instagram, Facebook, and Discord, was grand. They had gathered to protest the dismal state of the country, where the powerful and their children lived in luxury while countless Nepalis laboured abroad in countries like Qatar, Saudi Arabia, and Malaysia, sending remittances home to sustain their families. They marched in loose coordination, some singing protest songs, others dancing to drumbeats, and many chanting slogans. Handmade signs bore slogans carefully daubed in black paint.The last straw had come days earlier when the government imposed a blanket ban on social media platforms, cutting off main channels through which young Nepalis expressed frustration and organised politically. Tensions were already high, fueled in part by viral chatter about “nepo-babies,” the young faces that have long been symbols of privilege fast-tracked into positions of power because of their family connections. For Nepal’s youth, social media became a stage to mock them, question their merit, and call out a system where politics often feels like a family business.As the protesters pushed past the barricades outside Parliament, the police unexpectedly fell back rather than delivering the usual baton charge. A few tear gas canisters hissed through the air, and a lone water cannon swept the crowd, but the confrontation seemed restrained. People snapped selfies amid the haze, their chants echoing off the old brick walls, and for a brief moment, it felt almost ordinary, as if the protest might remain just another turbulent day in Kathmandu.According to reports, a cluster of older men mumbled about storming Parliament, while a few young riders, adrenaline surging, tore recklessly through the crowd on motorbikes, shouting insults. Near the complex itself, the energy shifted, protesters began hammering at the outer walls, some scrambling up the gates as flames flickered near the main entrance. The Armed Police Force advanced, their body armour and riot shields glinting under the dimming light, first launching tear gas canisters, then rubber bullets. In moments, the demonstration’s creative, almost celebratory tone disintegrated. Rocks and debris flew back toward the police lines. Gunfire—allegedly live rounds—cracked above the din. Chaos engulfed Kathmandu’s political heart.Videos soon flooded social media of unarmed students in school uniforms bleeding from head wounds, men collapsing unconscious, and disturbing claims that security forces had even fired tear gas into hospital grounds and beat the injured. What began as students chanting against corruption was quickly slipping into something far more volatile.By nightfall, nineteen people were dead in Kathmandu—a toll that already exceeded the casualties from Nepal’s 2006 People’s Movement, which had taken nineteen days to claim thirteen lives. Hospitals across the capital struggled with hundreds of injured protesters, many still in school uniforms. Blood banks reported critical shortages as medical staff worked through the night, treating gunshot wounds and head injuries from what had begun, just hours earlier, as a peaceful demonstration. Across the rest of Nepal, deaths and injuries were also reported, though full numbers remain unrecorded as events continue to unfold.The scale of the violence was unprecedented in Nepal’s modern democratic history. Even during the monarchy’s final, desperate attempts to maintain power nearly two decades earlier, the state had not deployed lethal force with such devastating efficiency against its own citizens. For a generation that had known only the republic, however flawed, the sight of young people bleeding in the streets represented a profound rupture in their understanding of what their government was capable of.To understand why thousands of teenagers and twenty-somethings would brave tear gas and rubber bullets, one must consider a long history of frustrated hopes for reform. Nearly two decades after the civil war ended, Prachanda, the former Maoist insurgent, once seemed a beacon of change. Millions voted for him, hoping for a fairer voice for the marginalised, a more just Nepal. But hope gave way to compromise, personal gain, and the slow churn of the same familiar leaders. The constitution, progressive on paper, was watered down. A new constitution, progressive in Nepal’s historical context, was stalled and diluted, and subsequent elections delivered a familiar cycle. The same discredited leaders rotating through power, swapped like pieces on a chessboard, their promises of reform fading with each turn.Public services remain poor. Tax burdens are high. Corruption scandals implicating politicians, bureaucrats, and businessmen piled up like grim milestones in the failure of the state. For decades, Nepal’s elites had looted land, siphoned public funds, and promised reforms that never came, leaving ordinary citizens disillusioned.It is this long pattern of systemic rot that now fuels the anger spilling onto Kathmandu’s streets—the young protesters demanding, in word and in action, that Nepal finally deliver on the change that generations have been promised but never seen.September 9The smell hit you first—acrid smoke from burning tires laced with petrol, hanging in Kathmandu’s September air like a toxic fog. Dawn on September 9th brought no respite. If anything, the deaths of nineteen protesters had transformed grief into something more volatile. Thousands defied hastily imposed curfews, emerging into streets still lingering with smoke from the previous day’s violence. What had begun as a youth-led movement against corruption now metastasised into something broader and more destructive—an utter rejection of Nepal’s political establishment.The targets were systematic. Party offices, politicians’ residences, and government buildings all came under attack. By afternoon, thick columns of smoke rose across the Kathmandu Valley, and the tint in the sky shifted from clear blue to a smoky haze that hung over the entire capital. Tribhuvan International Airport suspended operations, diverting flights as the capital descended into chaos. In the newer ministerial quarters south of the city, helicopters shuttled back and forth, evacuating officials in what appeared to be a tacit admission that the government could no longer hold pressure.The political collapse was swift and total. Ministers resigned in cascading waves, following the home minister, who had tendered his resignation the previous evening. Opposition parliamentarians abandoned their posts en masse, demanding fresh elections. By three o’clock in the afternoon, even K.P. Sharma Oli, in his third stint as prime minister and renowned for his political durability, announced his resignation and fled to Dubai.But resignation could not restore order. As the day moved, things spiralled completely out of control.This was no longer the Gen Z protestors of the previous day. In their place, an unruly mob surged through the streets. Outside Singha Durbar, Kathmandu’s sprawling government hub, protesters smashed windows, looted buildings, and seized weapons from the police as they pushed deeper into the complex. In the chaos, prisoners were freed, fires consumed the President’s residence, the Supreme Court alongside Parliament, and police stations burned alongside shops. The line between symbol and target had vanished. In just forty-eight hours, Nepal had witnessed its bloodiest civil unrest in modern memory, and the civilian government had unravelled before the nation’s eyes.“This is not us,” the Gen-Z groups leading the movement, Hami Nepal, posted on their social media. “Our struggle is for justice, dignity, and a better Nepal, not for chaos and theft.”Only well into the night, the Army chief appeared, urging restraint and calm. The military would be deployed to restore order.September 10All this upheaval would have been unimaginable even a month ago.A heavy, almost unnatural silence hung over the city. Curfew had been imposed, the streets were empty, and the Army patrolled in rigid lines. The roar of burning tires, the chants that shook walls, and the smoke that had choked the air yesterday had faded, leaving only a lingering haze and the metallic tang of uncertainty. Sunlight struggled through the smog, casting the streets in a dim, uneasy glow. The city felt suspended, caught between yesterday’s chaos and whatever tomorrow might bring, and we awoke with nothing but questions and the weight of uncertainty pressing down on every corner.The Nepal Army still mans checkpoints across Kathmandu, its soldiers stationed at every major intersection. Any gathering of more than a handful of people is broken up, an officer steps forward, offers an unmistakable “move on,” and the cluster dissolves.Questions hung in the air with the smoke. Who would answer for the bloodshed? Who now held authority? And in the absence of clear leadership, how would life move forward? The deaths of more than thirty protesters could not go unanswered. Yet even among those who had demanded change, the scale of destruction stirred unease. Nobody could say who truly held power, or what would come next.The revolution’s fever has broken; now comes the harder, less visible work. The only institutions left standing, the Presidency and the Army, have invited Gen-Z representatives to the table to sketch a path forward. But even in these early overtures, the Army’s hand is visible, its preferences for who might lead flickering through measured, strategic negotiation.Gen-Z in Nepal remains unmoored, bound more by digital fluency than by shared leadership or vision. Amid the chaos of Discord debates and clashing ideas, the movement is experimenting with ways to assert influence in a leaderless uprising. On a bustling Discord server, young protesters held their own vote for an interim leader, selecting Sushila Karki, Nepal’s first female Chief Justice. The proposal followed an extensive discussion on the platform, lasting nearly five hours, where over 10,000 participants shared their opinions. The server buzzed with debate, dissent, and deliberation, a digital agora where ideas clashed and alliances formed, revealing both the potential and uncertainties of a leaderless uprising. Other names, such as Balen Shah, Kathmandu’s independent mayor who rose from rapper to reform-minded politician, and Harka Sampang, Dharan’s grassroots-focused mayor, also surfaced in discussions, signalling the generation’s appetite for leaders who break from the recycled elite and embody accountability, visibility, and boldness. Though no formal appointment has been made, these debates offer a glimpse of a generation seeking new pathways, negotiating authority and vision in real time.This is the third great convulsion to shake South Asia since 2022—after Sri Lanka and Bangladesh—prompting some observers to whisper of a ‘South-Asian Spring,’ a phrase that carries the echo of the Arab Spring’s long shadow. The Nepali youth-led uprising has even borrowed the aesthetics of dissent from Indonesia as protesters waved the Straw Hat Pirates flag from One Piece, an emblem that has become a shared shorthand for rebellion in both countries. In Bangladesh, Sheikh Hasina’s government fell to similar youth-led protests just months earlier; in Sri Lanka, the 2022 uprising forced out the Rajapaksa dynasty. The same fault line ran across the region, crooked governments, restless citizens, and revolt spread across borders.Yet across and within these territories, the road ahead remains murky, the outcomes anything but certain. Bangladesh’s interim government struggles to reform entrenched systems. Sri Lanka’s new leadership has already retreated from promises that once stirred hope. These movements have excelled at toppling regimes but have struggled to build lasting alternatives.Nepal now faces the same daunting test its neighbours have confronted, struggling to turn a swell of popular fury into durable political reform rather than merely swapping one weary cadre of power brokers for another. Whether this generational uprising can finally crack the cycle of disappointment that has long defined South Asian politics, or whether it will join the list of movements that changed everything and nothing at all.September 11By Thursday morning, steady rain slicked Kathmandu’s streets, but the scars of upheaval were impossible to miss. Charred cars leaned against curbs, and the husks of looted buildings smouldered faintly under the drizzle. The capital was calm, almost eerily so, yet the quiet felt provisional, like a held breath. With the prime minister and his cabinet gone, Parliament effectively leaderless, and ministries shuttered, Nepal now stands without a functioning civilian government. The President and the Army, the only intact institutions, continue to act as de facto authorities, signalling interest in forming an interim arrangement. The old guard has vanished, leaving a power vacuum that multiple actors with competing interests are eager to fill. Political parties that seemed fractured just days ago are quietly regrouping, issuing statements of solidarity with Gen Z to distance themselves from their past complicity. Opportunists linger in the shadows, hoping to redirect the uprising’s momentum for personal gain. At the same time, misinformation spreads online, clouding clarity and amplifying confusion. Former Chief Justice Sushila Karki is seen as a frontrunner. Still, no consensus has been reached among protest groups, leaving the country in a state of suspended expectation.The old guard has vanished, leaving a power vacuum that multiple actors with competing interests are eager to fill. Political parties that seemed fractured just days ago are quietly regrouping, issuing statements of solidarity with Gen Z to distance themselves from their past complicity. Opportunists linger in the shadows, hoping to redirect the uprising’s momentum for personal gain. At the same time, misinformation spreads online, clouding clarity and amplifying confusion. After days of silence, Nepal’s President Ram Chandra Paudel issued a statement on Thursday assuring citizens that every effort is being made to navigate the crisis and find a way forward within the constitutional framework. Former Chief Justice Sushila Karki is seen as a frontrunner, but no consensus has been reached among protest groups, leaving the country in a state of suspended expectation." } , { "title" : "Yemen after the assassination: what just happened—and why it matters", "author" : "EIP Editors", "category" : "", "url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/yemen-after-the-assassination-what-just-happened-and-why-it-matters", "date" : "2025-09-10 17:22:00 -0400", "img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/EIPCover_Yemen.jpg", "excerpt" : "What happened Israel carried out an airstrike in Sana’a that killed Ahmed Ghaleb al-Rahawi, the prime minister of the Houthi-run (Ansar Allah) authority in northern Yemen, along with other senior officials. This is the first strike to kill top Houthi cabinet members. Reuters Al Jazeera", "content" : "What happened Israel carried out an airstrike in Sana’a that killed Ahmed Ghaleb al-Rahawi, the prime minister of the Houthi-run (Ansar Allah) authority in northern Yemen, along with other senior officials. This is the first strike to kill top Houthi cabinet members. Reuters Al Jazeera The Houthis vowed retaliation and fired on Israel-linked shipping in the Red Sea shortly after. Reuters The New Arab ABC News The strike lands on top of an already dire crisis: health systems, ports and water infrastructure in Houthi-controlled areas have been damaged by airstrikes, and Yemen is again facing a major cholera surge. The Washington Post Why this is politically explosive Two “governments,” two realities. Yemen has an internationally recognized government (based mainly in the south) and a Houthi authority governing the capital and much of the north. Al-Rahawi was the Houthi prime minister—not the internationally recognized PM. Killing him escalates a regional war into Yemen and risks normalizing cross-border assassinations. Wikipedia Legal/rights concerns. A targeted killing on another country’s territory raises serious sovereignty and international humanitarian law issues (distinction, necessity, proportionality). Civilian-impacting strikes on ports, clinics, and water systems can constitute collective punishment and unlawful attacks on civilian infrastructure. The Washington Post Cycle of retaliation. The Houthis have launched missiles and drones at Israel and attacked commercial shipping they deem “Israel-linked,” actions that also endanger civilians and violate the laws of war. Each side points to the other’s violations to justify escalation—civilians pay the price. Wikipedia Humanitarian reality on the ground Yemen remains one of the world’s worst crises. Over half of health facilities are barely functional, and damaged water systems are fueling tens of thousands of suspected cholera cases this year. Aid access is constrained by bombing, sanctions, and hostile governance. The Washington PostWhat this means in plain terms Assassination as policy risks widening the war and shattering fragile de-escalation channels in the Red Sea. People—not just “targets”—live under these airstrikes. Hitting ministries in a dense city and degrading water/health systems heightens disease and hunger. There is no military exit from a political problem. The longer armed actors trade strikes, the further Yemen drifts from a negotiated political settlement and basic recovery. What to watch next*Red Sea escalation: Will Houthi attacks on shipping intensify—and will more states join military responses? Reuters*Civilian infrastructure: Any new strikes on ports (Hodeida), water systems, or clinics will deepen cholera and famine risks. The Washington Post*Back-channel diplomacy: Are UN-led talks or regional mediators (Oman, Saudi) still engaging both sides—or freezing contacts after the assassination? (UN Security Council tracking). Security Council ReportWhere a rights-based stance lands*Condemn attacks that harm civilians and civilian infrastructure—whoever launches them.*Demand protection of humanitarian access and the immediate safeguarding of ports, water, and health facilities.*Push for an inclusive political process that addresses accountability for abuses by all parties, not just battlefield “victories.”The U.S. and Israel are working to weaken Yemen’s sovereignty by strategically targeting a country whose oil and gas (estimated at ~3 billion barrels and ~17 trillion cubic feet, respectively) remain central to its economy. Yemen also holds vast mineral wealth—gold, silver, copper, zinc, cobalt, nickel, and industrial reserves like limestone, gypsum, and marble. Despite this, its fisheries and renewable energy potential remain underdeveloped, while a deepening water crisis—exacerbated by conflict and mismanagement—threatens the country’s future." } ] }