10 Conflicts to Watch in 2021
The new year will
likely be plagued by unresolved legacies of the old: COVID-19, economic
downturns, erratic U.S. policies and destructive wars that diplomacy did not
stop. Crisis Group’s President Robert Malley lists the Ten Conflicts to Watch
in 2021.
ICG
Many around the globe experienced the
past year as an annus horribilis, eagerly awaiting its conclusion. But as the
list of conflicts to watch that follows suggests, its long shadow will endure.
2020 may be a year to forget, but 2021 will likely, and unhappily, keep
reminding us of it.
1. Afghanistan
Despite small but important advances in
peace talks, a lot could go wrong for Afghanistan in 2021.
After almost two decades of fighting,
the U.S. government signed a deal with Taliban insurgents in February.
Washington pledged to withdraw troops from Afghanistan in return for Taliban
commitments to forbid terrorists from using the country for operations and to
enter talks with the Afghan government.
Afghan peace talks took time to get
underway. The government stretched out for six months a prisoner exchange the
U.S. had promised to the Taliban – the release of 1,000 government troops or
officials held by the Taliban in return for 5,000 Taliban fighters – which
Kabul saw as lopsided. The insurgents, who had initially reduced suicide
bombings and assaults on cities and towns, responded to delays by stepping up
attacks and assassinations.
Negotiations eventually started in Doha
in mid-September, but the two sides took until December to agree on procedural
rules. Neither shows much appetite for compromise. Bloodshed has, if anything,
escalated. The Taliban appear to have abandoned any initial restraint. Recent
months have seen an uptick in suicide bombings and larger offensives on towns.
One challenge lies in how the parties
view talks. Kabul is publicly committed. But top officials deeply distrust the
Taliban or see negotiations as potentially resulting in the government’s
demise. Kabul has sought to slow-roll talks without openly crossing Washington.
In contrast, Taliban leaders believe their movement is ascendant. They perceive
the U.S. withdrawal and the peace process as reflecting that reality. Within
insurgent ranks too, many fighters expect talks to deliver much of what they
have fought for.
Looming in May 2021 is the deadline set
in the February deal for a complete U.S. and NATO military withdrawal. Though
Washington argues that was implicitly conditional on advances in Afghan peace
talks, the Taliban would likely react angrily to major delays. Since February,
Trump has pulled out thousands of U.S. forces. An initial drawdown to 8,600 was
mandated in the bilateral agreement, but Trump has downsized to 4,500 and
pledges to reach 2,500 before he leaves office. The extra, unconditional withdrawals
have reinforced Taliban confidence and government disquiet.
Afghanistan’s fate lies mostly
with the Taliban, Kabul, and their willingness to compromise.
Afghanistan’s fate lies mostly with the
Taliban, Kabul, and their willingness to compromise – but much also hinges on
Biden. His administration may want to condition the withdrawal on progress in
talks. But it will take time for the Afghan parties to reach a settlement.
Keeping a U.S. military presence in the country long past May without
irreparably alienating the Taliban will be no small feat. To complicate things
further, Biden has expressed a preference for keeping several thousand
counterterrorism forces in Afghanistan. He may have to decide between that and
a potentially successful peace process. Neither the Taliban nor regional
countries whose support would be crucial to any agreement’s success will accept
an indefinite U.S. military presence.
A precipitous U.S. withdrawal could
destabilise the Afghan government and potentially lead to an expanded,
multiparty civil war. Conversely, a prolonged presence could prompt the Taliban
to walk away from talks and intensify their attacks, provoking a major escalation.
Either would mean that 2021 marks the year Afghanistan loses its best shot at
peace in a generation.
2. Ethiopia
On 4 November, Ethiopian federal forces
began an assault on Tigray region after a deadly Tigrayan attack and takeover
of federal military units in the region. By November’s end, the army had
entered the Tigrayan capital, Mekelle. Tigray People’s Liberation Front (TPLF)
leaders abandoned the city, claiming they wished to spare civilians. Much
remains unclear, given a media blackout. But the violence has likely killed
thousands of people, including many civilians; displaced more than a million
internally; and led some 50,000 to flee to Sudan.
The Tigray crisis’s roots stretch back
years. Ethiopian Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed came to power in 2018 after protests
largely driven by long-simmering anger at the then-ruling coalition, which had
been in power since 1991 and which the TPLF dominated. Abiy’s tenure, which
began with significant efforts at reforming a repressive governance system, has
been marked by a loss of influence for Tigrayan leaders, who complain of being
scapegoated for previous abuses and warily eye his rapprochement with the
TPLF’s old foe, Eritrean President Isaias Afwerki. Abiy’s allies accuse TPLF
elites of seeking to maintain a disproportionate share of power, obstructing
reform, and stoking trouble through violence.
The Tigray dispute is Ethiopia’s most
bitter, but there are wider fault lines. Powerful regions are at loggerheads
while supporters of Ethiopia’s ethnic federalist system (which devolves power
to ethnically defined regions and that the TPLF was instrumental in designing)
are battling that system’s opponents, who believe it entrenches ethnic identity
and fosters division. While many Ethiopians blame the TPLF for years of
oppressive rule, the Tigrayan party is not alone in fearing that Abiy aims to
do away with the system in a quest to centralise authority. Notably, Abiy’s
critics in the restive Oromia region – Ethiopia’s most populous – share that
view, despite Abiy’s own Oromo heritage.
The question now is what comes next.
Federal forces advanced and took control of Mekelle and other cities relatively
quickly. Addis Ababa hopes that what it calls its continuing “law enforcement
operation” will defeat the remaining rebels. It rejects talks with TPLF
leaders; allowing impunity for outlaws who attack the military and violate the
constitution would reward treason, Abiy’s allies say. The central government is
now appointing an interim regional government, has issued arrest warrants for
167 Tigrayan officials and military officers, and appears to hope to persuade
Tigrayans to abandon their erstwhile rulers. Yet the TPLF has a strong grassroots
network.
There are disturbing signs. Reports
suggest purges of Tigrayans from the army and their mistreatment elsewhere in
the country. Militias from Amhara region, which borders Tigray, have seized
disputed territory held for the past three decades by Tigrayans. The TPLF
launched missiles at Eritrea, and Eritrean forces have almost certainly been
involved in the anti-TPLF offensive. All this will fuel Tigrayan grievances and
separatist sentiment.
If the federal government invests
heavily in Tigray, works with the local civil service as it is rather than
emptying it of the TPLF rank and file, stops the harassment of Tigrayans
elsewhere, and runs disputed areas rather than leaving them to Amhara
administrators, there might be some hope of peace. It would be critical then to
move toward a national dialogue to heal the country’s deep divisions in Tigray
and beyond. Absent that, the outlook is gloomy for a transition that inspired
so much hope only a year ago.
3. The Sahel
The crisis engulfing the Sahel region of
North Africa continues to worsen, with interethnic violence increasing and
jihadists extending their reach. 2020 was the deadliest year since the crisis
started in 2012, when Islamist militants overran northern Mali, plunging the
region into protracted instability.
Jihadists control or are a shadow
presence across swaths of rural Mali and Burkina Faso and are making inroads in
Niger’s southwest. Intensified French counterterrorism operations in 2020 dealt
the militants some blows, pummeling the local Islamic State affiliate and
killing several al-Qaeda leaders. Combined with jihadist infighting, they
appear to have contributed to a decline in complex militant attacks against
security forces. But military strikes and killing leaders have not disrupted jihadists’
command structures or recruitment. Indeed, the more foreign militaries pile in,
the bloodier the region seems to become. Nor have government authorities been
able to reclaim rural areas lost to militants. Even where military pressure
forces jihadists out, they tend to return when operations subside.
The conditions on which militants
thrive are difficult to reverse.
The conditions on
which militants thrive are difficult to reverse. States’ relations with many of
their rural citizens have broken down, as have traditional conflict management
systems. As a result, neither state nor customary authorities are able to calm
increasing friction among communities, often over resources. Security forces’
abuses drive further discontent. All this is a boon for militants, who lend
firepower and offer protection to locals or even step in to resolve disputes.
Ethnic militias mobilised by the Malian and Burkinabè authorities to fight
jihadists fuel intercommunal violence.
Even beyond rural areas, citizens are
growing angrier at their governments. Mali’s coup in August, the result of
protests provoked by a contested election but sustained by wider fury at
corruption and inept rule, is the starkest evidence. Similar discontent plagues
Niger and Burkina Faso.
Without more concerted efforts to tackle
the Sahel’s crisis of rural governance, it is hard to see how the region can
escape today’s turmoil. Broadly speaking, such efforts would require state
actors and others to focus first and foremost on mediating local conflicts,
talking to militants where necessary, and using the resulting agreements as the
basis for the return of state authority to the countryside. Foreign military
operations are essential, but international actors ought to emphasize local
peacemaking and push for governance reform. Little suggests the military-first
approach will stabilise the Sahel. If anything, over recent years it appears to
have contributed to the uptick in interethnic bloodshed and Islamist militancy.
4. Yemen
Yemen’s war has caused what the UN still
deems the world’s worst humanitarian disaster. COVID-19 has exacerbated the
suffering of civilians already stalked by poverty, hunger, and other diseases.
Top humanitarian officials are again warning of famine.
One year ago, there was a window of
opportunity to end the war, but the belligerents squandered it. Houthi rebels
were talking through back channels with Saudi Arabia, the main outside sponsor
of the U.N.-recognised Yemeni government led by President Abed Rabbo Mansour
Hadi. The Saudis were also mediating among anti-Houthi factions that were
squabbling over the status of Aden, a southern city that is the government’s
interim capital and which has been controlled by the secessionist,
Emirati-backed Southern Transitional Council (STC) since August 2019. Combined,
these two negotiating tracks could have served as building blocks for a
U.N.-brokered political process. Instead, fighting has escalated, particularly
in Marib, the Hadi government’s last urban stronghold in the north. It took a
year of bad-tempered negotiations before anti-Houthi factions agreed on how
they would divvy up security responsibilities in the south, move their forces
away from front lines, and form a new government. The negotiations will likely
face further roadblocks over relocating the cabinet to Aden. UN peacemaking
efforts have also hit a wall.
Both the Houthis and the Hadi government
have reasons to stall. If they prevail in Marib, the Houthis will have
conquered the north and seized the province’s oil, gas, and power plant,
allowing them to generate much-needed electricity and revenue. The government
can ill afford to lose Marib, but it harbors another hope: the outgoing Trump
administration may, in a parting shot at Iran, designate the Houthis a terrorist
organisation, tightening the economic noose on the rebels and complicating
negotiations with them by outside actors. Such a step would heighten risks of
famine by obstructing trade with Yemen, which imports 90 per cent of its wheat
and all of its rice. It might also sound the death knell for UN mediation
efforts.
In any case, the UN two-party framework
looks outdated. Yemen is no longer the country it was in the early days of the
war; it has fragmented as the conflict raged. The Houthis and the government do
not hold a duopoly over territory or domestic legitimacy. Other local actors
have interests, influence, and spoiling power. The UN should expand its
framework to include others, notably the STC and Emirati-backed forces on the
Red Sea coast along with tribespeople in the north, who could otherwise upend
any settlement they reject. Instead of pursuing a two-party bargain, the UN
should start planning for a more inclusive process that would encourage
deal-making among key players.
Absent a course correction, 2021 looks
set to be another bleak year for Yemenis, with the war dragging on, disease and
potentially famine spreading, prospects for a settlement evaporating, and millions
of Yemenis getting sicker and hungrier by the day.
5. Venezuela
Nearly two years have passed since the
Venezuelan opposition, the US, and countries across Latin America and Europe
proclaimed legislator Juan Guaidó interim president of Venezuela and predicted
incumbent Nicolás Maduro’s demise. Today, any such hopes lie in tatters. A
U.S.-led “maximum pressure” campaign – entailing sanctions, international
isolation, implied threats of military action, and even an abortive coup – has
not toppled Maduro. If anything, these actions have left him stronger, as
allies, including in the military, have rallied behind him fearing his fall
would endanger them. Venezuelans’ living conditions, devastated by the
government’s ineptitude, U.S. sanctions, and COVID-19, have hit rock bottom.
If Maduro remains entrenched, his
adversaries could see their political fortunes collapse. The basis for Guaidó’s
presidential claim lay in the parliamentary majority that opposition parties
won in 2015, combined with the argument that Maduro’s May 2018 reelection was a
sham. Now the opposition is weak, divided, and with barely a toehold in the
National Assembly. The government won December’s legislative elections, which
all but a few small opposition parties boycotted, with a thumping majority.
The opposition’s malaise stems primarily
from its failure to bring about change. Its strategy underestimated Maduro’s
capacity to survive sanctions and international isolation while overestimating
Washington’s willingness to make good on vague threats of force.
Backing sanctions has also lost Maduro’s
rivals support, given that those measures have hastened Venezuela’s economic
collapse and further impoverished its citizens. More than 5 million citizens
have fled, many now scraping by in Colombia’s cities or violent borderlands.
Most families that remain cannot put enough food on the table. Thousands of
children are suffering irreversible harm from malnutrition.
A new U.S. government provides an
opportunity for a rethink. Support for the Venezuelan opposition has been
bipartisan in Washington. Still, Biden’s team could change tack, give up trying
to oust Maduro, and launch diplomatic efforts aimed at laying the groundwork
for a negotiated settlement with the help of both left- and right-wing leaders
in Latin America.
Together with the European Union, it
could attempt to reassure Maduro’s allies such as Russia, China, and Cuba that
their core interests in the country would survive a transition. Beyond taking
immediate humanitarian steps to alleviate Venezuela’s coronavirus-related
crisis, the new administration might also consider resuming diplomatic contacts
with Caracas and committing to gradually lift sanctions if the government takes
meaningful steps, such as releasing political prisoners and dismantling abusive
police units. Internationally backed negotiations aimed in particular at
organising credible presidential elections, scheduled for 2024, could come
next, provided both sides show they are genuinely interested in compromise.
At present, Maduro’s government shows no
sign it would hold a fair vote. Most of his rivals want to overthrow and
prosecute him. A settlement looks as distant as ever. But after two years spent
in fruitless and harmful efforts to provoke sudden political rupture, building
support for a more gradual transition is the best path forward.
6. Somalia
Elections are looming in Somalia amid
bitter disputes between President Mohamed Abdullahi Mohamed (also known
as“Farmajo”) and his rivals. The war against Al-Shabaab is entering its 15th
year, with no end in sight, while donors increasingly chafe at paying for
African Union (AU) forces to help keep the militants at bay.
The mood ahead of the elections –
parliamentary elections were scheduled for mid-December but have been pushed
back, and preparations for a presidential vote planned for February 2021 are
also lagging – is fraught. Relations between Mogadishu and some of Somalia’s
regions – notably Puntland and Jubaland, whose leaders have long been rivals of
Mohamed and fear his reelection – are tense, largely due to disputes over the
allocation of power and resources between the center and periphery. Such
discord tends to pit Somalia’s communities against one another, including at a
clan level, with increasingly bitter rhetoric employed by all sides.
Al-Shabaab, meanwhile, remains potent.
The group controls large portions of southern and central Somalia, extends a
shadow presence far beyond that, and regularly attacks Somalia’s capital. While
Somali leaders and their international partners all recognise, in principle,
that the challenge from al-Shabaab cannot be tackled with force alone, few
articulate clear alternatives. Talks with militants might be an option, but
thus far the movement’s leaders have given little indication that they want a
political settlement.
To further complicate things, patience
is wearing thin with the AU mission that has for years battled al-Shabaab.
Without those forces, major towns, potentially even Mogadishu, would be even
more vulnerable to militant assaults. Donors like the EU are tired of forking
out for what appears to be a never-ending military campaign. The current plan
is to hand over primary security responsibility to Somali forces by the end of
2021, yet those troops remain weak and ill-prepared to lead counterinsurgency
efforts. The risk of a security vacuum has been aggravated by the sudden
pullout of Ethiopian forces due to the Tigray crisis and the Trump
administration’s plan to withdraw U.S. troops training and mentoring the Somali
army.
Much hinges on the February presidential
vote. A reasonably clean election, whose results main parties accept, could
allow Somalia’s leaders and their foreign backers to step up efforts to reach
agreement on the federal relationship and constitutional arrangements and
accelerate security sector reform. A contested vote, on the other hand, could
provoke a political crisis that widens the gulf between Mogadishu and the
regions, potentially triggers clan violence, and risks emboldening al-Shabaab.
7. Libya
Rival military coalitions in Libya are
no longer fighting, and the UN has restarted negotiations aimed at reunifying
the country. But reaching lasting peace will still be an uphill struggle.
On 23 October, the Libyan National Army
(LNA) – led by Gen. Khalifa Haftar and supported by Egypt, the United Arab
Emirates, and Russia – and the Turkey-backed Government of National Accord
(GNA), led by Fayez al-Sarraj, signed a ceasefire formally ending a battle that
had been raging on the outskirts of Tripoli and elsewhere since April 2019. The
fighting had killed some 3,000 people and displaced hundreds of thousands.
Turkey’s direct military intervention to aid Sarraj in early 2020 reversed what
had been Haftar’s advantage. Front lines are now frozen in central Libya.
The ceasefire is welcome, but its
implementation is lagging. The LNA and GNA committed to withdraw troops from
front lines, expel foreign fighters, and stop all foreign military training.
Yet both sides have backtracked. Their forces are still on the front lines, and
foreign military cargo planes continue to land at their respective air bases,
suggesting that outside backers are still resupplying both sides.
Similarly, progress has been stunted in
reunifying a country divided since 2014. UN talks convened in November brought
together 75 Libyans tasked with agreeing on an interim unity government and a
roadmap to elections. But talks have been marred by controversy over how the UN
selected these delegates, their legal authority, infighting, and allegations of
attempted bribery. The participants have agreed to elections at the end of 2021
but not on the legal framework governing those polls.
At the heart of all the problems is a
disagreement over power sharing. Haftar’s backers demand that a new government
place the LNA and GNA camps on an equal footing. His rivals oppose including
pro-LNA leaders in any new dispensation. Foreign powers have similarly
contrasting views. Turkey wants a friendly government – free of Haftar
supporters – in Tripoli. Conversely, Cairo and Abu Dhabi want to reduce
Ankara’s influence and bolster that of pro-LNA politicians. Russia, which also
supports the LNA, is keen to retain its foothold in the Mediterranean, but
whether it prefers the status quo that preserves its sway in the east or a new
government with LNA representation is unclear.
Fighting seems unlikely to flare back up
in the immediate future because outside actors, while keen to consolidate their
influence, do not want another round of open hostilities. But the longer the
ceasefire terms go unfulfilled, the higher the risk of mishaps provoking a
return to war. To avoid this outcome, the UN must help forge a roadmap to unify
Libya’s divided institutions and de-escalate tensions among regional foes.
8. Iran-US
In January 2020, the U.S. killing of
Iranian commander Qassem Suleimani brought U.S.-Iran tensions close to a
boiling point. In the end, Iran’s response was relatively limited, and neither
side chose to escalate, though the temperature remained perilously high. The
new U.S. administration could calm one of the world’s most dangerous standoffs,
notably by returning to the 2015 nuclear deal, also known as the Joint
Comprehensive Plan of Action (JCPOA). But doing so quickly, managing relations
with Saudi Arabia and Israel – both bitterly opposed to Iran – and then moving
to talks about broader regional issues will be no mean feat.
The Trump administration’s Iran policy
has entailed what it calls maximum pressure. That has meant exiting the JCPOA
and imposing harsh unilateral sanctions on Iran in the hope of forcing greater
concessions on its nuclear program, tempering its regional influence, and –
some officials hoped – even toppling the government in Tehran.
Sanctions devastated Iran’s
economy but achieved little else.
Sanctions devastated
Iran’s economy but achieved little else. Throughout Trump’s presidency, Iran’s
nuclear program grew, increasingly unconstrained by the JCPOA. Tehran has more
accurate ballistic missiles than ever before and more of them. The regional
picture grew more, not less, fraught, with incidents – from Suleimani’s killing
on Iraqi soil to attacks on Saudi energy industry targets widely attributed to
Tehran – triggering multiple brushes with open war. Nothing suggests that the
Iranian government, despite periodic outbursts of popular discontent, is in
danger of collapse.
Even in its dying days, the Trump
administration has been doubling down. The waning weeks of its tenure saw it
impose more sanctions designations. The killing of a top Iranian nuclear
scientist, which was attributed to Israel, further inflamed tensions and
prompted Iran to threaten to expand its nuclear program further still.
Washington and some allies appear determined to inflict maximum pain on Iran
and restrict the incoming Biden administration’s room for maneuver. Risks of a
confrontation before Trump leaves office remain alive as pro-Iran Shiite
militias target Americans in Iraq.
Biden has signalled that he will shift
course, agree to rejoin the JCPOA if Iran resumes compliance, and then seek to
negotiate a follow-on deal tackling ballistic missiles and regional policy.
Tehran has signalled that it, too, is prepared for a mutual adherence to the
existing nuclear deal. That seems the safest and swiftest bet, although even
then obstacles will abound. The U.S. and Iranian governments will need to agree
on a sequencing of steps between sanctions relief and nuclear restraints and
also on which sanctions should be lifted. The window could be short, with
presidential elections in Iran scheduled for June and a more hard-line
candidate predicted to win.
But if they return to the JCPOA, the
larger challenge will be to address the regional tensions and polarisation
that, left to fester, will continue to jeopardise the deal and could trigger
conflict. European governments are exploring the possibility of prompting Iran
and Gulf Arab states to engage in a dialogue to reduce regional tensions and
prevent an inadvertent outbreak of war; the Biden administration could put its
full diplomatic weight behind such an effort.
9. Russia-Turkey
Russia and Turkey are not at war, often
in cahoots, yet frequently backing opposing sides – as in Syria and Libya – or
competing for sway, as in the Caucasus. They often see one another as partners,
compartmentalise discord on one issue from discussions on others, and cooperate
even as their local allies battle it out. Yet as Turkey’s 2015 downing of a
Russian jet near the Turkey-Syria border and the 2020 killings of dozens of
Turkish soldiers in airstrikes by Russian-backed Syrian forces show, the risk
of unexpected confrontations is high. While Turkish President Recep Tayyip
Erdoğan and his Russian counterpart, Vladimir Putin, so far have proved adept
at managing such mishaps, any falling-out could exacerbate the conflicts in
which they are both entangled.
The contradictions of Ankara-Moscow
relations are clearest in Syria. Turkey has been among President Bashar
al-Assad’s fiercest foreign antagonists and a staunch backer of rebels. Russia,
meanwhile, threw its weight behind Assad and, in 2015, intervened to decisively
turn the war in his favour. Turkey has since given up on ousting Assad, more
concerned with battling the People’s Protection Units (YPG), the Syrian
offshoot of the Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK), which has waged an insurgency
against Turkey for nearly four decades and which Ankara (and the US and Europe)
considers a terrorist organisation.
A March 2020 deal cobbled together by
Moscow and Ankara halted the latest bout of fighting in Idlib, the last
rebel-held pocket in north-western Syria, and showed how much the two powers need
each other. Russia expects Turkey to enforce the Idlib ceasefire. Ankara
recognises that another regime offensive, which could drive hundreds of
thousands more Syrians into Turkey, hinges on Russian air support, which gives
Moscow virtual veto power over such an operation. But the status quo is
tenuous: the Syrian war is not over, and another Russian-backed offensive in
Idlib remains possible.
In Libya, too, Russia and Turkey back
opposite sides. Russian contractors support Haftar’s LNA, while Turkey supports
the Tripoli-based GNA. A fragile ceasefire has held since October. But it is
far from clear that a deal can guarantee Turkey the friendly Libyan rulers it
wants while also giving Russia the foothold it seeks.
Russia and Turkey were also enmeshed in
the recent war over Nagorno-Karabakh. Russia has a military alliance with
Armenia but avoided picking sides and eventually brokered the ceasefire that
ended fighting. Turkey lent Azerbaijan diplomatic and military support, with
Turkish (and Israeli) drones helping to suppress Armenian air defences. Despite
their competition in the South Caucasus, both Moscow and Ankara gained this
time around. Russia deployed peacekeepers and dramatically upped its influence
in the region. Turkey can claim to have played a significant part in
Azerbaijan’s victory and will benefit from a trade corridor established by the
ceasefire deal.
Just as Moscow and Ankara compete
on an increasing number of battlefields, their ties are stronger than they have
been in some time.
Paradoxically, just as
Moscow and Ankara compete on an increasing number of battlefields, their ties
are stronger than they have been in some time. Their “frenmity” is symptomatic
of broader trends – a world in which non-Western powers increasingly push back
against the US and Western Europe and are more assertive and more willing to
enter into fluctuating alliances.
Russia has seen tensions with the West
mount against the backdrop of wars in Ukraine and Syria, charges of election
interference and poisoning of opponents on foreign soil, as well as U.S. and
European sanctions. Turkey chafes at U.S. support for the YPG and refusal to extradite
Fethullah Gülen – the cleric Ankara accuses of masterminding an attempted coup
in 2016 – as well as European critiques of its democratic backsliding and
alleged bias in the Cyprus conflict. Sanctions imposed by Washington in
response to Ankara’s purchase and testing of the Russian S-400 missile defence
system encapsulate these tensions. By cutting bilateral deals in various
conflict zones, both Russia and Turkey see the potential for gain.
Still, ties born of opportunity don’t
always last. With their respective forces so close to multiple front lines,
potential flash points abound. A downturn in their relations could spell
trouble for both nations and more than one warzone.
10. Climate Change
The relationship between war and climate
change is neither simple nor linear. The same weather patterns will increase
violence in one area and not in another. While some countries manage
climate-induced competition well, others don’t manage it at all. Much depends
on whether states are governed inclusively, are well equipped to mediate
conflicts over resources, or can provide for citizens when their lives or
livelihoods are upended. How much climate-related violence 2021 will see is
uncertain, but the broader trend is clear enough: without urgent action, the
danger of climate-related conflict will rise in the years ahead.
Without urgent action, the danger
of climate-related conflict will rise in the years ahead.
In northern Nigeria, droughts have
intensified fighting between herders and farmers over dwindling resources,
which in 2019 killed twice as many people as the Boko Haram conflict. On the
Nile, Egypt and Ethiopia have traded threats of military action over the Grand
Ethiopian Renaissance Dam, partly due to Cairo’s fears the dam will exacerbate
already serious water scarcity. For now, Africa arguably sees the worst
climate-related conflict risks, but parts of Asia, Latin America, and the
Middle East face similar dangers.
In fragile countries worldwide, millions
of people already experience record heat waves, extreme and irregular
precipitation, and rising sea levels. All this could fuel instability: for
example, by exacerbating food insecurity, water scarcity, and resource
competition and by leading more people to flee their homes. Some studies
suggest that a rise in local temperature of 0.5 degrees Celsius is associated,
on average, with a 10 to 20 per cent heightened risk of deadly conflict. If
that estimate is accurate, the future is worrying. UN scientists believe that
man-made emissions have warmed the Earth by 1 degree since pre-industrial times
and, with the pace accelerating, predict another half-degree as soon as 2030.
In many of the world’s most unstable areas, it might happen faster still.
Governments in at-risk countries need to
peacefully regulate access to resources, whether scarce or abundant, within or
among states. But developing nations at risk of conflict should not face the
pressures of a changing climate alone.
There is some cause for optimism. The
new U.S. administration has put the climate crisis atop its agenda, and Biden
has called for faster action to mitigate associated risks of instability.
Western governments and companies have pledged to provide poorer countries $100
billion annually for climate adaptation starting in 2020. They should live up
to these commitments: developing nations deserve increased support from those
whose fossil fuel intemperance has caused the crisis in the first place.
Originally published
in Foreign Policy: 10 Conflicts to Watch in 2021
