Category World News

2025 was the year the world relearned a fundamental truth: conflicts are not confined within discrete borders. A war in one region now pushes migration across continents, disrupts food and energy markets, strains humanitarian systems, and reshapes global alliances. If the battlefield is local, the shockwaves are global.

Two small states, Norway and Qatar, have in this environment made mediation not an instrument of goodwill, but a core instrument of security policy. Diplomacy is, for both of us, not a matter of public ritual or symbolic gesture: it is a strategic responsibility in a world where unresolved conflicts return inevitably through different channels. Stability is achieved by means of access, credibility, and the capacity to keep adversaries engaged in political dialogue even when trust has collapsed.

“Time has its revolutions”, as an old phrase goes, and as the world turns toward 2026 a different mindset of truly transformative scale is urgently needed. The international system has for too long normalized disruption. 2026 must normalize peace. Mediation is no longer merely the moral option: it is the strategic one. It is the only means of dispute settlement capable of truly disrupting escalation before escalation truly disrupts the world.

For Norway and Qatar, 2025 has delivered harsh but invaluable lessons in what effective mediation actually requires — not sweeping diplomatic triumphs, but the disciplined, often unseen work of keeping crises from consuming entire regions.

Four examples of effective mediation

Few conflicts have shocked the world’s conscience more than the war in Gaza. While the two-state solution is still an unfinished mediation project, many issues have been resolved through diplomatic channels, with our countries positioned at the very center of these efforts.

Even while hostilities intensified and tensions escalated, confiscated tax funds were released, prisoners freed, hostages returned to their loved ones and humanitarian access improved. Our experience tells us that humanitarian relief operations, and political tracks cannot be separated or stymied. One cannot survive without the other: unless diplomacy and humanitarianism advance together, neither can succeed.

Our ongoing engagement in the Sudan do not only seek to reduce violence and improve humanitarian access. It is also to reaffirm that there is no credible alternative to a political process that safeguards unity, territorial integrity, sovereignty, and stability. Surely any sustainable path forward must reflect the aspirations of the Sudanese people, protect against foreign intervention, and safeguard state institutions from collapse.

Our efforts in the Great Lakes and the Sahel have reinforced a simple but often neglected reality: regional peace requires regional responsibility. Stability cannot be outsourced. As the UN Security Council has stressed, no mediation initiative can be viable without ownership and full involvement of all relevant parties.

In Colombia, we came together once again to help bring an end to more than twenty years of armed conflict involving one of Colombia’s most powerful armed groups, the El Ejercito Gaitanista de Colombia (EEGC). At the margins of the Doha Forum last year, we witnessed the signing of new commitments between the Government of Colombia and the EEGC—another significant stride toward lasting peace and stability in Colombia and the wider region.

These experiences differ in context, but they combine to provide the same answer: mediation is crisis insurance. It prevents regional disasters from becoming global ones.

If 2025 revealed the limits of military power, 2026 will reveal whether the world is willing to invest in peace before it is forced instead to bankroll reconstruction. It will test whether political dialogue can become the first line of defence rather than some last-ditch attempt.

Moving from crisis management to crisis prevention

Five shifts are essential if we are to move from crisis management to crisis prevention.

First, we must invest in mediation early, not after the collapse. The cost of preventative diplomacy is, for all of us, a fraction of the price to be paid after war has already erupted.

Second, our efforts must be guided always by international law: truly lasting solutions, capable of standing the test of time, can be achieved only in accordance with international legitimacy achieved through adherence to the law.

Third, humanitarian access is non-negotiable. Civilians cannot be used as leverage in political or military logic. The denial of aid deepens grievances, prolongs conflict, and destroys any remaining trust.

Fourth, verification must be built into every ceasefire from day one. Even the most carefully drafted agreements will, if there is no monitoring or accountability, remain fragile.

Fith, mediation processes — and those who lead them — must be protected. In an era of disinformation, polarization and targeted attacks, safeguarding mediators is no longer optional; it is essential to the credibility and continuity of any peace effort.

These are not idealistic demands. They are operational requirements for regional and global stability.

A resolve for 2026

Norway and Qatar are not identical models. But our approaches are anchored in shared principles. If the world is to make one resolution for 2026, it should be this: seek peace before disruption seeks us.

The alternative is already visible. Humanitarian systems are reaching their breaking point. Political institutions are being destabilized. Millions of young people are inheriting conflicts they did not start and may not understand, yet will be expected to endure. In such a world, security becomes reactive, exorbitantly expensive, and ultimately unsustainable.

Mediation is not what we do when everything else has failed. It is what prevents everything else from failing. This is why the Security Council has reaffirmed its commitment to mediation as a means of achieving the peaceful settlement of disputes.

The value of peace will in 2026 no longer be measured in ideals or statements, but in the stability, the safety, and the economic security it provides to societies, including those far beyond any single conflict zone.

The choice is between a world that learns from 2025 — and a world that is content to repeat its mistakes.

Malam Fatori, Nigeria — It’s been more than 10 years since Isa Aji Mohammed lost four of his children in one night when Boko Haram fighters attacked their home in northeast Nigeria’s Borno State.

Maryam, who was 15 at the time, was killed alongside her brothers Mohammed, 22, and Zubairu, who was only 10. Yadoma, 25 and married with children, who had returned home to her parents’ house for a visit, also died in the attack.

“We ran with nothing,” said 65-year-old Isa, standing on the parched soil of his farm in the Lake Chad village of Malam Fatori, to which he recently returned. “For more than 10 years, we slept in relatives’ homes. I felt like a stranger in my own country.”

Before the deadly attack, Isa, a farmer, produced hundreds of bags of rice, maize and beans annually, enough to feed his family and sell in markets in neighbouring Niger.

After that night, he fled and spent the next decade in displacement camps across the border.

But last year, he joined thousands of other former residents who have relocated back to Malam Fatori and other towns as part of a resettlement programme initiated by the government.

The village sits on the edge of Nigeria’s northeastern frontier, close to the border with Niger, where the vast, flat landscape stretches into open farmland and seasonal wetlands.

A decade ago, homes there were intact and full, their courtyards echoing with children’s voices and the steady rhythm of daily life. Farms extended well beyond the town’s outskirts, producing grains and vegetables that sustained families and supported local trade.

Irrigation canals flowed regularly, and the surrounding area was known for its productivity, especially during the dry season. Markets were active, and movement between Malam Fatori and neighbouring communities was normal, not restricted by fear.

Today, the town carries the visible scars of conflict and neglect, with much of it lying in ruin.

Rows of mud-brick houses stand roofless or partially collapsed, their walls cracked by years of abandonment. Some homes have been hastily repaired with scrap wood and sheets of metal, signs of families slowly returning and rebuilding with whatever materials they can find.

The farms surrounding Malam Fatori are beginning to show faint signs of life again. Small plots of millet and sorghum are being cleared by hand, while irrigation channels – once choked with sand and weeds – are gradually being reopened.

Many fields, however, remain empty, overtaken by thorny bushes and dry grass after years without cultivation. Farmers move cautiously, working close to the town, wary of venturing too far into land that was once fertile but has long been unsafe.

For returnees like Isa, walking through these spaces means navigating both the present reality and memories of what once was. Each broken wall and abandoned field tells a story of loss, while every newly planted seed signals a quiet determination to restore a town that violence nearly erased.

Between ‘two pressures’: Boko Haram and the army

For the Borno State administration, the returns are a success. “There are 5,000 households of returnees in Malam Fatori, while the town’s total population now exceeds 20,000 people,” Usman Tar, Borno State commissioner for information and internal security, told Al Jazeera last year.

As we toured the town, the security presence was visible. Armed patrols, checkpoints and observation posts were stationed along major routes and near public spaces, reflecting ongoing efforts to deter attacks and reassure residents.

Families interviewed said they were subjected to frequent security checks and strict movement controls, measures they understand as necessary but which also disrupt daily routines and limit access to farms, markets and neighbouring communities.

Residents and local officials say the threat remains close. Fighters from Islamic State West Africa Province (ISWAP), another armed group active in the area, are believed to be operating from swampy areas approximately two kilometres from the town, using the difficult terrain as cover.

Although the town itself is under heavy military protection, surrounding areas continue to experience attacks, kidnappings and harassment, particularly along farming routes and access roads.

These persistent security incidents reinforce a climate of fear and uncertainty among returnees. While many families have chosen to remain and rebuild despite the risks, they say the proximity of armed groups and the ongoing violence in nearby communities make long-term recovery fragile.

“Here in Malam Fatori, we live under two pressures,” said resident Babagana Yarima. “Boko Haram dictates our safety, and the military dictates our movement. Both limit how we live every day.”

Farmers wait up to eight hours at military checkpoints when transporting produce. Curfews prevent evening farm work. Access to agricultural land beyond the town requires military permits or armed escorts.

“Insecurity and military restrictions limit access to farmlands, forcing farmers to cultivate smaller areas than before,” said Bashir Yunus, an agrarian expert at the University of Maiduguri who also farms in the region.

Fishing, previously a major food source and income generator from Lake Chad, has become dangerous and requires permits to leave the town boundaries.

“Movement beyond the town’s boundaries now requires military permits. Militant attacks in isolated areas continue,” said Issoufou.

The United Nations has raised concerns about the government’s resettlement programme, citing potential protection violations. Mohamed Malick, UN resident and humanitarian coordinator in Nigeria, said during an interview with journalists in Maiduguri that “any returns or relocations must be informed, voluntary, safe, dignified and sustainable”.

Malick added that the return of refugees to Malam Fatori and other insecure areas must be carefully evaluated against established safety and humanitarian standards, and must only take place if conditions allow for basic services and sustainable livelihoods.

‘A man without land is a man without life’

Settled back on his land, Isa wakes before dawn each day, leaving his home in the quiet hours before the town stirs.

He walks to the fields that once yielded fertile harvests, now choked with weeds and debris. The land that once fed his family and supported their livelihood now demands relentless effort just to coax a small crop from the exhausted soil.

‎With each turn of the hoe and careful planting of seeds, he is determined to reclaim a fragment of the life that was disrupted by conflict.

‎He also participates in community farming initiatives, joining neighbours in collective efforts to restore agricultural production for the returning population and aid the town’s slow recovery.

‎However, the area he personally cultivates is far smaller than what he once managed, constrained by limited access to tools, seeds and water, as well as by the lingering insecurity in the region.

‎”A man without land is a man without life,” he said.

‎‎Most families in Malam Fatori now eat only twice a day, a sharp contrast to life before the conflict. ‎Their meals typically consist of rice or millet, often eaten with little or no vegetables due to cost and limited availability. ‎

Food prices have risen dramatically, placing further strain on households already struggling to recover. ‎A kilogramme of rice now sells for about 1,200 naira (approximately $0.83), nearly double its previous price, making even basic staples increasingly unaffordable for many families.

‎Fish, once plentiful and affordable thanks to proximity to Lake Chad, have become scarce and expensive. Insecurity, restricted access to fishing areas, and disrupted supply chains have severely reduced local catches.

‎At the local market and at aid distribution points, women queue before dawn, hoping to secure small quantities of dried fish, groundnut oil or maize flour when supplies arrive.

‎Deliveries are irregular and unpredictable, often selling out within hours. Many women say they return home empty-handed after waiting for hours, compounding daily stress and uncertainty about how to feed their families.

‎Local health workers warn that malnutrition remains a serious concern, particularly among children under the age of five.

Basic services remain inadequate across town. Roads are poor, and schools and health clinics operate with minimal resources.

“Security risks and inaccessible routes through surrounding bushland continue to restrict humanitarian access, preventing aid agencies from reaching several communities. Basic services such as clean water, healthcare and quality education remain inadequate,” Kaka Ali, deputy director of local government primary healthcare, told Al Jazeera.

Despite ongoing challenges, residents of Malam Fatori are steadily working to rebuild their community and restore livelihoods disrupted by years of conflict.

‎Across the town, women have organised themselves into small cooperatives, producing handmade mats and processing groundnut oil for household use and local sale.

‎Fishermen, once central to the local economy, now operate cautiously in small groups in line with security regulations. Along riverbanks and storage areas, they repair damaged canoes and carefully mend fishing nets that were abandoned or destroyed during the conflict.

‎At the same time, teams of bricklayers are reconstructing homes destroyed during the violence, using locally sourced materials and shared labour to rebuild shelters for returning families.

The town’s clinic, staffed by six nurses, is overstretched. Vaccinations, malaria treatment and maternal health services are rationed. Power outages and equipment shortages compound the challenges. But it is a lifeline.

At Malam Fatori Central Primary School, children from the town and surrounding communities are being taught with the few resources available.

There are only 10 functional classrooms for hundreds of pupils, so some learn outdoors, under trees or in open spaces. There is a shortage of teachers, so some educators brave the conditions and travel long distances from the southern parts of Borno State.

In another, more unusual arrangement, soldiers stationed in the town occasionally step in to teach basic civic education and history lessons.

While not a replacement for trained teachers, community leaders say their involvement provides pupils with some continuity in education. The presence of soldiers in classrooms, they say, also reassures parents about security and underscores a shared effort to stabilise the town and rebuild essential services.

‘This land contains our future’

‎Amid all of the returning and rebuilding, security remains a dominant feature of daily life in Malam Fatori.

‎Soldiers remain stationed throughout the town, at markets and other public spaces to deter attacks.

Meanwhile, former Boko Haram members who have enrolled in a government-led deradicalisation and repentance programme also assist in protecting farmers working on the outskirts of the town, helping to rebuild trust between civilians and security structures.

Abu Fatima is a former Boko Haram fighter who joined the repentance programme. ‎“Troop patrols are constant, curfews dictate daily life,” he said about the security arrangements in Malam Fatori.

Although residents welcome the security provided by the soldiers’ presence in the town, “many say they feel trapped – unable to fully rebuild the lives they had before Boko Haram, yet unwilling to abandon a homeland that defines them”, he said, echoing the tension felt by many returnees.

‎Bulama Shettima has also lived through the personal cost of the fighting that has devastated northeast Nigeria. Two of the 60-year-old’s sons joined ISWAP, a tragedy that left the family with deep emotional scars. After years of uncertainty and fear, one of his sons was later deradicalised through a government rehabilitation programme. This has allowed his family to heal and reconcile. Coming back to Malam Fatori is also part of that.

“Returning wasn’t about safety,” he said. “It was about belonging. This land contains our history. This land contains our grief. This land contains our future.”

‎Today, Bulama is focused on rebuilding his life and securing a different future for his children.

‎He works as a farmer, cultivating small plots of land under difficult conditions, while also running a modest business to supplement his income. ‎

‎Despite his losses, Bulama places strong emphasis on educating his other children, saying that their schooling is a form of resistance against the cycle of violence that once tore his family apart. It will also allow them to grow up with choices, he says.

As many displaced families remain in Niger or live in limbo in Maiduguri, fearing a return to towns where armed men operate not far away, those now in Malam Fatori consider it a move worth making.

For Isa, the decision to return represents a calculated risk.

“We are caught between fear and order,” he said. “But still, we must live. Still, we must plant. Still, we must hope.”

Video shows explosions at an arms storage facility in southern Yemen, where the Saudi-led coalition has been bombing forces loyal to separatist leader Aidarus al-Zubaidi after he failed to attend peace talks in Riyadh.

Syria and Israel have agreed to set up a joint mechanism after US-mediated talks in Paris on Tuesday, in what they are calling a “dedicated communication cell” aimed at sharing intelligence and coordinating military de-escalation.

The two countries have had a US-backed security agreement in place since 1974. However, when the Assad regime fell on December 8, 2024, Israel began attacking Syrian military infrastructure and pushed their troops into the demilitarised zone that is Syrian territory.

Syria and Israel have been engaging in intermittent negotiations over the last year to find a security agreement that would stop Israel’s repeat aggression against Syrians and Syrian territory.

Here’s everything you need to know about these talks.

What is the mechanism?

“The mechanism will serve as a platform to address any disputes promptly and work to prevent misunderstandings,” a joint statement released by the two countries said after the agreement on Tuesday.

The idea is to have a body that will deal with grievances and resolve disputes between Israel and Syria, ideally in a way that brings Israeli attacks on Syrian land and people to an end. Both sides may also hope it can pave the way to a renewed security agreement.

What does Syria want?

A government source told state media SANA, that the focus for Syria is to reactivate “the 1974 Disengagement Agreement, with the aim of ensuring the withdrawal of Israeli forces to the lines in place prior to Dec. 8, 2024 within a reciprocal security agreement that prioritizes full Syrian sovereignty and guarantees the prevention of any form of interference in Syria’s internal affairs.”

The Syrian government, led by President Ahmed al-Sharaa, will want Israel to respect Syrian sovereignty by pulling back its forces and stopping attacks but also to stop meddling in domestic affairs.

The Washington Post reported that Israel has supported figures opposed to Syria’s new government, including Suwayda’s Hikmat al Hijri. Israel has previously said they want to protect Syria’s minority Druze community.

What does Israel want?

Three things mainly, according to Al Jazeera’s senior correspondent Resul Serdar.

“For Israel, it’s about more land, patronage of minorities, and long term leverage,” he said.

Israel has tried to paint the new government in Syria as extremist and a threat to its security. It has called for the area south of Damascus to be demilitarised, while also trying to build relations with Syrian minorities, particularly the Druze in Suwayda.

Analysts believe this could be part of a strategy by Israel to keep its neighbours weak.

Israel has come to the table at least partially due to US leverage and influence. US President Donald Trump and his Special Envoy Tom Barrack have both built warm relations with al-Sharaa.

But Israel may also want to counter Turkish influence in Syria. Israel has previously accused Turkiye of turning Syria into its protectorate.

What does the US want?

“For Washington the priority is containment,” Serdar said.

The US also sees Damascus as a crucial partner in the fight against ISIL. Stability in Syria, particularly under a central government in Damascus, could mean pulling US troops out of eastern Syria.

But the US also wants a strong Syria to avoid the return of Iranian influence in the country and to avoid any wider regional violence.

For his part, Trump is eager to expand the Abraham Accords that sees Arab and Muslim countries sign normalisation agreements with Israel and has said he hopes Syria will do so. Syria, however, has said they do not intend to sign the Abraham Accords.

Will the mechanism work?

There are doubts.

A Syrian official told Reuters news agency that his country isn’t willing to move forward on “strategic files” without an enforced timeline over Israel’s withdrawal from Syrian territory taken after December 2024.

In addition to moving into Syrian territory, Israel has conducted numerous attacks on Damascus, including on the Syrian Ministry of Defense building.

A similar mechanism between Israel and Lebanon was created after the November 2024 ceasefire there, with France and the United States involved to enforce the deal. However, the mechanism has not stopped near-daily attacks by Israel on Lebanese territory, nor has it led to the withdrawal of Israeli troops from five occupied points in Lebanon.

For the mechanism to work, the United States will have to do something it has rarely done in recent years: hold Israel accountable.

What about the Golan Heights?

Israel has illegally occupied areas of the Syrian Golan Heights since 1967.

Israeli officials have indicated they are not willing to return the Golan Heights to the new Syrian government.

After the fall of the Assad regime, Israel expanded into Syrian territory and seized the strategic outlook of Jabal al-Sheikh, a mountain that lies between Syria, Lebanon and Israel.

Among the thousands of supporters of Venezuelan President Nicolas Maduro who joined a public protest in Caracas against his weekend abduction by United States soldiers, one man stood out.

Wearing a blue cap emblazoned with the slogan “To doubt is to betray,” Minister of Interior, Justice and Peace Diosdado Cabello marched on Tuesday with the protesters before delivering a speech in front of a giant portrait of Maduro and his wife, Cilia Flores.

A longtime ally of Maduro and his predecessor Hugo Chavez, Cabello has emerged as a key figure in the leadership that the ousted president had built. Some analysts described him as in effect the most powerful person in Venezuela today, even though Maduro’s deputy, Delcy Rodriguez, has formally taken over as interim president of the country.

Cabello has been accused of enforcing crackdowns on protests and media coverage that has been critical of Maduro’s government, including by an independent United Nations human rights mission in 2024.

So who is Cabello, and why is he so powerful?

Who is Diosdado Cabello?

Born in El Furrial in Monagas State in northeastern Venezuela, Cabello has a background in engineering, including a graduate degree from Andres Bello University.

He served in various roles under Chavez, who was in power from 1999 until his death in 2013, including his chief of staff and minister of interior and justice, infrastructure and public works.

As a member of the armed forces, Cabello joined Chavez’s attempted coup against President Carlos Andres Perez in February 1992 and spent two years in jail after the coup failed.

After Chavez came to power, Cabello helped set up the pro-Chavez grassroots civil society organisations known as Bolivarian Circles, aiming to empower workers and the poor.

On April 13, 2002, during a two-day coup against Chavez, Cabello took on the duties of the presidency, facing off against Pedro Carmona, the head of the Venezuelan Federation of Chambers of Commerce, whom the coup leaders had appointed president.

Cabello’s first order was to send elite navy forces to rescue Chavez, who was being held prisoner at a base on a Caribbean island.

Chavez was back in office a few hours later.

During the Chavez era, Cabello was criticised for his business interests by the opposition, who called him part of the “Bolibourgeoisie”, or officials who had become wealthy.

He was serving as speaker of the National Assembly when Chavez died in 2013, placing him next in line to serve as interim president, according to the Venezuelan Constitution.

The role instead went to Maduro, who remained in power for more than a decade. Cabello rose up to become security tsar, leading the internal security apparatus and wielding power over armed civilians known as “colectivos”.

Why is Cabello so powerful?

The apparent ease with which US special forces were able to land in Caracas, abduct Maduro and Flores, and get out of Venezuela underscored the wide gulf in military capabilities between the two adversaries.

The US is the strongest military power in history with 1.33 million active soldiers in addition to the most destructive range of bombs, missiles, jets and other weapons ever known to humanity. In contrast, Venezuela has 109,000 active military personnel and 31 military aircraft. The US has 13,043.

If the US were to launch a ground invasion or try to maintain a military foothold in Venezuela, it could still face challenges – in the form of paramilitary forces loyal to Maduro’s United Socialist Party of Venezuela and the army.

Venezuela has 220,000 paramilitary soldiers, more than double its formal military size.

And Cabello, as interior minister, is in charge of these groups.

What are Venezuela’s paramilitary groups?

The bulk of the paramilitary fighters belong to the Bolivarian Militia, a group started by Chavez that his critics described as his private army.

Then there are the colectivos, bands of armed, masked, motorcycle-riding fighters who for years have dominated urban neighbourhoods, enforcing the writ of the governments of Chavez and Maduro.

The colectivos have often also collaborated with the military in a model that Maduro used to refer to as the Civil-Military Union.

Why is Cabello controversial?

According to an independent UN human rights mission, Cabello has ordered crackdowns on people who oppose the Maduro government, including through Operation Tun Tun in 2017, which was named after the sound made when officers knocked on someone’s door before an arrest.

In August 2024 when he was a member of the National Assembly, Cabello warned journalists who published information about the presidential election result that was not in line with Maduro’s government would be arrested as part of Operation Tun Tun, the UN human rights mission found.

The mission’s report also said colectivos operated in coordination with security forces to repress protests, including by firing warning shots “without being prevented from doing so by the security forces, even when they were only metres away”.

Along with Maduro and former Interior Minister Ramon Rodriguez Chacin, Cabello faces drug charges filed by the US Department of Justice over what the US said is Venezuela’s decades-long role in the cocaine trade.

For years, Aidarous al-Zubaidi has been the undisputed strongman of southern Yemen, a former air force officer who transitioned from a rebel leader to a statesman courted by Western diplomats.

But on Wednesday, his political trajectory took a drastic turn.

In a decree that has shaken the country’s fragile power-sharing arrangement, the chairman of the Presidential Leadership Council (PLC), Rashad al-Alimi, removed al-Zubaidi from his post as council member, stripping him of his immunity and referring him to the public prosecutor on charges of “high treason”.

The decree accuses al-Zubaidi of “forming armed gangs”, “harming the Republic’s political and military standing”, and leading a military rebellion.

Simultaneously, the Saudi-led coalition announced that al-Zubaidi had “fled to an unknown destination” after failing to answer a summons to Riyadh—a claim the Southern Transitional Council (STC) vehemently denies, insisting their leader remains in Aden.

So, who is the man at the centre of these rapid developments in Yemen?

The ‘rebel’ officer

Born in 1967 in the Zubayd village of the mountainous Al-Dale governorate, al-Zubaidi’s life has mirrored the turbulent history of southern Yemen.

He graduated from the air force academy in Aden as a second lieutenant in 1988. However, his military career was upended by the 1994 civil war, in which northern forces under then-President Ali Abdullah Saleh crushed the southern separatist movement.

Al-Zubaidi fought on the losing side and was forced into exile in Djibouti.

He returned to Yemen in 1996 to found Haq Taqreer al-Maseer (HTM), which means the Movement of Right to Self-Determination, an armed group that carried out assassinations against northern military officials. A military court sentenced him to death in absentia, a ruling that stood until Saleh pardoned him in 2000.

After years of a low-level rebellion, al-Zubaidi re-emerged during the Arab Spring in 2011, when his movement claimed responsibility for attacks on Yemeni army vehicles in Al-Dale.

From governor to secessionist chief

The Houthi takeover of Sanaa in 2014 and their subsequent push south in 2015 provided al-Zubaidi with his biggest opening.

Leading southern resistance fighters, he played a pivotal role in repelling Houthi forces from Al-Dale and Aden. In recognition of his influence on the ground, President Abd-Rabbu Mansour Hadi appointed him governor of Aden in December 2015.

However, the alliance was short-lived. Tensions between Hadi’s government and southern separatists boiled over, leading to al-Zubaidi’s dismissal in April 2017.

Less than a month later, al-Zubaidi formed the Southern Transitional Council (STC), declaring it the legitimate representative of the southern people. Backed by the United Arab Emirates, the STC built a formidable paramilitary force that frequently clashed with government troops, eventually seizing control of Aden.

In April 2022, in a bid to unify the anti-Houthi front, al-Zubaidi was appointed to the eight-member Presidential Leadership Council (PLC).

A vision of ‘South Arabia’

Despite joining the unity government, al-Zubaidi never abandoned his ultimate goal: the restoration of the pre-1990 southern state.

In interviews with international media, including United Arab Emirates state-run newspaper The National and Al Hurra, al-Zubaidi outlined a vision for a federal “State of South Arabia”. He argued that the “peace process is frozen” and that a two-state solution was the only viable path forward.

He also courted controversy by expressing openness to the Abraham Accords.

“If Palestine regains its rights … when we have our southern state, we will make our own decisions and I believe we will be part of these accords,” he told The National in September 2025.

Most recently, on January 2, 2026, al-Zubaidi issued a “constitutional declaration” announcing a two-year transition period leading to a referendum on independence – a move that appears to have triggered his dismissal.

The final rupture

The events of January 7 mark the collapse of the fragile alliance between the internationally recognised government and the STC.

Brigadier General Turki al-Maliki, spokesperson for the coalition, stated that al-Zubaidi had been distributing weapons in Aden to “cause chaos” and had fled the country after being given a 48-hour ultimatum to report to Riyadh.

Al-Maliki also confirmed “limited preemptive strikes” against STC forces mobilising near the Zind camp in Al-Dale.

The STC has rejected these accounts. In a statement issued on Wednesday morning, the council claimed al-Zubaidi is “continuing his duties from the capital, Aden”.

Instead, the STC raised the alarm about its own delegation in Riyadh, led by Secretary-General Abdulrahman Shaher al-Subaihi, claiming they have lost all contact with them.

“We demand the Saudi authorities … guarantee the safety of our delegation,” the statement read, condemning the air strikes on Al-Dale as “unjustified escalation”.