In 2019, I became a local researcher with the Cross-border Conflict Evidence, Policy, and Trends (XCEPT) programme, run by the Rift Valley Institute (RVI), an independent non-profit organization seeking to foster local knowledge on social, political and economic development in Eastern and Central Africa. Though this was not my first research experience, it was my introduction to being part of a global team of researchers—something that greatly broadened my horizons. With this in mind, the following blogpost details my varied experiences in Somalia as part of the XCEPT team.
A personal journey of growth
Enthused and curious, I joined the XCEPT team in the hope of amplifying voices too often sidelined in mainstream research. At that point, I had little idea of the extent to which the coming years would not only nurture my professional growth, but grant me unique insights into the centring of local perspectives.
In short, participating in the XCEPT project has been an enriching experience. Hands-on research in a variety of remote, conflict-affected borderlands has opened my eyes to the possibilities of research methodologies, data analysis and collaborative research design. More importantly, I have honed my ability to navigate complex social and cultural dynamics, giving me the confidence to work in environments where trust is a precious commodity.
A couple of moments in particular stand out. On one occasion I was leading a focus group discussion in the border district of Galkayo. At first, I was apprehensive about how the community members would perceive yet another data collector turning up. I needn’t have worried—my shared cultural background and understanding of local customs proved invaluable in giving the participants the assurances they needed to share their hopes and fears. For me, this experience reaffirmed the importance of using local researchers, particularly female ones, who are embedded in the communities they study.
Another experience that sticks in my mind took place when I was conducting interviews with women khat traders in Galkayo. One day, I had the rare opportunity to follow a woman named Shukri, experiencing firsthand the daily lives of those involved in the khat trade. It gave me a profound insight I might otherwise have overlooked into the struggles local women deal with as a matter of course.
Outputs from my XCEPT research
Seeking to make innovative use of my encounter with Shukri, I helped create an online visual timelinedepicting her life journey, experiences and networks. This took place during the Understanding and Visualising the ‘Transnational Everyday’ in the Horn of Africa sessions that were held in Addis Ababa in 2020, as part of the process of producing an interactive report on how individuals move and interact across borders.
I also drew on my interactions with the khat traders when writing a briefing for RVI called ‘Khat and COVID-19: Somalia’s cross-border economy in the time of coronavirus’ and a longer report titled ‘Galkayo’s Khat Trade: The role of women traders in Puntland, Somalia’. As this suggests, the research I conducted was used extensively in a variety of forms, underlining both its value and the willingness of XCEPT to seek new ways of disseminating information. Moreover, from a personal point of view, it gave me a deep insight into the complex socioeconomic landscape of Galkayo and the wider region.
The trade in khat—a mild stimulant, widely consumed by men in particular—is one of the most lucrative business sectors in the cross-border economy of the Somali regions. Additionally, the fact that khat leaves are grown in the highland areas of Kenya and Ethiopia before being exported to Somalia makes it a transnational sector. Overall, the khat trade is extremely profitable, providing numerous jobs and business opportunities for Somalis, while generating considerable revenue for various authorities. To quote my previously mentioned briefing:
According to the Somaliland Annual Statistical Report 2018, khat ordinarily accounts for 30 per cent of domestic revenues, or USD 36,449,435. Between USD 120,000 and USD 150,000 was collected daily from tax on khat imports in Kalabaydh customs station.
Nevertheless, statistical reports such as this often generalize data regarding the khat business in Somalia, thereby failing to include the voices of women. This is despite the fact, to quote my report:
For women in Puntland, many of whom live under challenging financial circumstances while fulfilling the role of breadwinner of their household, the khat trade provides opportunities to make money to support their families. Mostly this is through petty trade—selling khat in the market—which women are seen as being particularly effective at. … Having their own source of income can give women freedom and independence.
Some of the more successful women, known locally as ‘khat queens’, have even managed to gain a degree of commercial and political power through their business achievements in the sector. Amid this context, the closure of borders and subsequent governmental bans on khat that accompanied the Covid-19 pandemic had dire impacts for those engaged in khat trade, especially women. Nevertheless, even in the face of these draconian measures, khat continued to enter Somalia via unconventional routes.
Contributions to local knowledge systems
As all of the above implies, collecting gender-desegregated data is key to obtaining the information necessary to inform successful policymaking. In terms of the Galkayo study, examining how gender and other social inequalities shape access to power helped bring women’s perspectives to the fore. These views in turn contributed to local decision-making and policy development. For example, local businesswomen became important stakeholders in discussions around societal, peacebuilding and conflict-resolution issues, leading to improved service delivery for women and their families.
Following the pandemic lockdown, the municipality adjusted its strategies to make them more in line with women’s needs and local cultural norms. In particular, greater emphasis was put on fostering collaboration.Through their associations, the women khat traders were able to increase their standing within the community, allowing them to move their merchandise to safer places in Galkayo.
A phrase used by several respondents in both South and North Galkayo was ‘War la helaa Talo la helaa’, which broadly speaking means that when you have information, you can make better decisions. Or, put another way, greater understanding of specific challenges yields more effective solutions. In the case of the safety issues confronting Galkayo’s women, this translated into more street lightening for khat traders and bigger, cleaner market spaces for businesswomen. Alongside this, several cases concerning outstanding debts were resolved to the benefit of the women involved and their families.
Local Research Network (LRN)
Taking a step back from my own work, the XCEPT Local Research Network (LRN) connects researchers from across the world—South Sudan, Iraq, Lebanon, Ethiopia and Somalia—through face-to-face and online training workshops and study tours. This collaborative spirit exemplifies the project’s ethos of centring local voices, spotlighting the importance of such perspectives in unpacking complex but often taken-for-granted issues.
Collaborating with researchers from different regions and disciplines provided me with fresh perspectives and a deeper appreciation of the interconnectedness of cross-border issues. These relationships have led to ongoing collaborations that continue to enrich my work. Reflecting on my experiences, I am filled with gratitude that I have been able to contribute to a project that so explicitly prioritizes local expertise.
On top of this, the skills and connections I developed through the XCEPT project have opened the door to numerous opportunities that lie beyond the immediate scope of my research. These range from speaking at international conferences to contributing to policy discussions at the national, regional and global level.
All this has reinforced my belief in the transformative potential of locally led research when it comes to influencing broader narratives and policies. Also, from a personal standpoint, the project expanded my professional network in ways I couldn’t have anticipated.
Benefits of knowledge and evidence for local communities
Today, there is greater awareness in Somalia about the knowledge and evidence generated by XCEPT. In particular, by prioritizing the expertise of local researchers and centring local voices, the project has not only added depth to its findings, but ensured the narratives of those living in conflict-affected borderlands are represented authentically.
XCEPT’s emphasis on expanding research networks in remote regions has been transformative. In providing a platform for marginalized communities to share their experiences, stereotypes have been challenged and understandings broadened. Having ready access to credible information is also a boon for practitioners, researchers, governments and non-governmental organizations alike, potentially leading to more nuanced, effective interventions.
The links between the XCEPT project and my PhD research
There are several links and overlaps between the XCEPT project and my PhD research project. To begin with, there are thematic overlaps as both projects seek to better understand how individuals, goods and ideas interact across conflict borders and transnationally, taking Somali women as their starting point. The findings from both projects contribute to better understanding of the lived realities of Somali businesswomen in Somali and those in diaspora. My PhD research project can help inform policy actors on how diaspora women and female refugees particularly Somalis in Zambia, establish belonging and political agency necessary for mobilizing, channeling, and delivering humanitarian relief aid to families and communities in Somalia during disasters.
There are methodological overlaps as well as both projects use qualitative research methods, such as ethnography, Key Informant Interviews, and Focus Group Discussions to capture lived experiences and narratives as critical in telling complex stories for shaping policy and practice. Through a wide range of data visualization techniques and working on the visualizing the ‘transnational everyday’ project, I have learned how to use tools such as Flowmap.blue and the free online platform StorymapJS—where I was able to upload qualitative material and plot locations by place-name or coordinates. I have used the knowledge and skills gained to make sense of data from narrative and life-history interviews and recounted journeys within and across borders to simplify personal testimonies, explanations, audio/visual material data collected from Somali businesswomen in Galkayo and Lusaka into routes of movement.
Insights from the XCEPT project have enriched my PhD analysis by providing comparative perspectives between fragility and transnationalism – women in the khat trade in Galkayo vis a vis diaspora businesswomen and female refugees in Zambia. My dual role as a researcher and practitioner in Somalia allowed for a practice-informed academic perspective. The XCEPT project offered me a platform for engagement with other researchers, policymakers, development actors, and local communities. My PhD research complements XCEPT’s broader objectives by deepening understanding of transnational movements of individuals, goods and ideas across conflict borders, fragile contexts and diaspora.
Final thoughts
Being part of the XCEPT project has shown me just how important local collaborations and support networks are when conducting research in conflict-affected areas. Beyond this, through listening to the diverse experiences shared by my fellow LRN researchers, I have learned the value of building trust among communities, particularly when navigating sensitive social, political and economic issues.
In terms of the research I undertook om behalf of XCEPT, the Galkayo study on the role of women in the cross-border khat trade economy offers concrete proof of how a focus on local knowledge can help in understanding community needs and promoting effective strategies, especially in conflict-prone areas.
The Author
Sahra Ahmed Koshin is a PhD Candidate at the Universities of Copenhagen and Nairobi, specializing in the Horn of African Diaspora. She holds two MA degrees—an MA in Cultural Anthropology from the Leiden University and an MA in Development Studies from Radboud University Nijmegen both in the Netherlands. Her research focuses on Diaspora Humanitarianism in Complex Crises, particularly the role of Somali businesswomen and female refugees in Zambia. She is a Somali gender expert specializing in integrating gender and inclusion across international development programs and activities.
Yemen’s Ansar Allah, better known as the Houthis, has expanded cross-border collaboration with non-state actors in Somalia, namely the al-Qaeda-affiliated al-Shabab and the Islamic State in Somalia (ISS), which is associated with the Islamic State group that emerged in Iraq and Syria in 2014. While these groups diverge in ideology, ambition, and regional focus, they are united in their hostility to the United States and Israel, their pursuit of asymmetrical warfare, and their reliance on illicit economies. Such collaboration aims to strengthen and diversify supply chains, securing access to more sophisticated weaponry, improve the groups’ domestic standing, and increase the latitude of Ansar Allah and its main regional backer, Iran, to affect maritime security in the Gulf of Aden and Bab al-Mandab Strait to their advantage. This situation has heightened the sources of instability in the broader region.
Much of the African Horn, especially the Red Sea littoral states, is integral to Yemen’s strategic depth due to its geographical proximity and long coastline. These factors have shaped historical patterns of migration, trade exchanges, cultural influence, and religious and social interactions. Yemen’s establishment of the Sanaa Cooperation Forum in 2003, which among other things addressed peace in Somalia, its mediation in the Somali crisis of 2006–2007, and its hosting of large numbers of displaced Somalis have underscored Yemeni preoccupation with the African country. Yemen has also been the African Horn’s gateway to the Gulf states, especially Saudi Arabia, including during periods of instability and conflict. The International Organization for Migration reported that 96,670 people crossed the Gulf of Aden into Yemen in 2023 thanks to human trafficking networks, especially from Somalia’s Bari and Woqooyi Galbeed regions.
The arms trade in the Red Sea has been a leading factor in Ansar Allah’s ties with Somalia. Despite a United Nations arms embargo on Yemen, Iran has supplied weapons surreptitiously to Ansar Allah. Between September 2015 and January 2023, warships from the United States, Saudi Arabia, France, and Australia intercepted sixteen vessels, carrying approximately 29,000 small arms and light weapons, 365 anti-tank guided missiles, and 2.38 million rounds of ammunition bound for Ansar Allah. Most of the consignments were transported on dhows used for coastal trade and fishing. In 2020, the Global Initiative Against Transnational Organized Crime concluded that a portion of Iranian-supplied arms to Ansar Allah ended up in Somalia.
While Iran’s dealings with African Horn countries have been characterized by ups and downs, Iran’s Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) prioritized the region after 1989, later intensifying its efforts in the first decade of the twenty-first century. In 1989, Iran backed Sudanese president Omar al-Bashir’s rise; in 2006, it transferred weapons to the Islamic Courts Union so it could fight Somalia’s government; and in 2008 it sought a military presence in Eritrea, allowing it to use the Dahlak islands to send arms to Ansar Allah. In this way Tehran tried to break its international isolation, expand regional partnerships, and introduce supply mechanisms for its proxies, expanding its strategic reach.
Ansar Allah’s relationship with Somali nonstate actors, all of them under arms embargo, has evolved over the past decade through arms traffickers or brokers. This became increasingly important starting in 2016, when Ansar Allah realized it could strengthen its position by having a capacity to act in Yemen’s maritime space, whether by attacking vessels or engaging in smuggling—a lesson it applied during the Red Sea crisis over Gaza that began in October 2023. Ansar Allah’s leader, Abdul-Malik al-Houthi, again expressed this view in January 2025, when he cited the group’s maritime operations on Gaza’s behalf, while supporting developments in “several African countries … against American and European hegemony, and American imperialism and occupation [there].” This signaled his interest in broadening Ansar Allah’s activities into Africa.
In June 2024, the United States reported on collaboration between al-Shabab and Ansar Allah. A United Nations report from February 2025 revealed that representatives of the two groups had met at least twice in July and September 2024 in Somalia, underscoring Ansar Allah’s commitment to deepening ties during the Red Sea crisis. Under the reported deal, Ansar Allah would provide al-Shabab with arms and technical expertise in exchange for ramping up piracy attacks and collecting ransoms in the Gulf of Aden and off Somalia’s coast.1 Considering al-Shabab’s cooperation with Somali pirates, in which the former reportedly receives a 20 percent share of ransoms, the Ansar Allah–al-Shabab partnership likely involved using pirates to maximize maritime disruptions.2 The United States’ fear is that Ansar Allah’s weapons deliveries could provide it with a new financing stream, while giving al-Shabab access to more sophisticated arms.
Iran also has longstanding contacts with al-Shabab. In 2017, the IRGC’s Quds Force allowed the group to circumvent United Nations sanctions by using Iranian ports as transshipment points to reexport charcoal, generating revenues. Iran has also reportedly armed and funded al-Shabab to target U.S. interests in the African Horn, including Kenya. While tangible evidence that Iran has played a role in facilitating Ansar Allah’s ties with al-Shabab is required, U.S. intelligence officials are investigating such a possibility. Guled Ahmed, a Somali scholar at the Middle East Institute, is more affirmative, saying, “Iran is at the epicenter of all of this.”3 Moreover, al-Qaeda’s de facto leader Seif al-Adl is allegedly being hosted by Tehran and views convergence between Sunni and Shia militants as necessary to focus on fighting Western countries.
Ansar Allah’s relationship with ISS, in turn, has evolved since at least 2021.4 The relationship initially focused on the transfer of small arms. Between 2015 and 2022, U.S.-designated ISS members Abdirahman Mohamed Omar and Isse Mohamoud Yusuf smuggled arms from Yemen, suggesting preexisting connections with Ansar Allah. This was driven both by the domestic needs of ISS, which operates in Somalia’s Puntland region, and Ansar Allah’s desire to bolster its revenues, especially after the lull in the Yemen conflict starting in April 2022. When the Gaza war began in October 2023, Ansar Allah sought to increase international pressure for a ceasefire by interdicting maritime traffic in the Gulf of Aden and Red Sea. Between November 2023 and May 2024, it reportedly sent representatives to northeastern Somalia to coordinate intelligence gathering and the geolocation of ships in the Gulf of Aden, filling blind spots in its radar coverage, in exchange for short-range suicide drones and technical training.5 The Somali Puntland Security Force (PSF) seized five such drones dispatched by Ansar Allah in August 2024, arrested seven individuals suspected of having links to ISS and al-Shabab, and in January of this year ISS claimed two drone attacks against the PSF. Ansar Allah’s relationship with ISS and the latter’s access to arms smuggling networks follow on from Ansar Allah’s ties with al-Shabab and the fact that in 2015, ISS leader Abdul Qadir Mumin formed ISS with defectors from al-Shabab, which he opposes.
While Ansar Allah is a Jarudi Zaydi Shiite group, it has behaved pragmatically in dealing with Sunni jihadi groups, as shown by its collaboration with al-Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula (AQAP). This relationship has involved the transfer of weapons to AQAP, the mutual provision of havens for each other’s members, and exchanges of prisoners, demonstrating that connections with al-Shabab and ISS are equally possible.
The ramifications of Ansar Allah’s deepening collaboration with al-Shabab and ISS are multifaceted and critical to global maritime trade, peace, and security. The parties have common interests, all of which are reshaping security dynamics in the African Horn, the southern Red Sea, and the Gulf of Aden, adding to the potential theaters of instability and complicating arms interdiction efforts. These dynamics have also increased Ansar Allah’s geopolitical footprint, from which Iran has benefited, giving both parties leverage over a major international sea-lane.
A primary interest of Ansar Allah, al-Shabab, and ISS is their exploitation of illicit networks, particularly arms and fuel trafficking networks from Iran. Iran, in turn, sees these groups as helping it to diversify access to financing channels, smuggling routes, and offshore support bases. Such activities have increased the three groups’ sources of revenues and operational capabilities.6 Specifically, Ansar Allah’s collaboration with Somali non-state actors has facilitated the flow of Iranian weapons and resources to and from Yemen, circumventing the United Nations arms embargo. Weapons transfers often follow a roundabout route. Larger ocean-faring ships leave Iran and travel into Kenyan or Tanzanian waters to avoid detection by international naval forces near the Gulf of Aden, before heading toward Somalia. Then, smaller boats departing from Somalia, using falsified documents, smuggle arms into Yemen, particularly through Ras al-Aara in Lahj Governorate.7 Arms dealers and brokers have also sought to transfer surface-to-air missile systems from Eastern Europe to Ansar Allah via Somalia.8
Somali non-state actors view Ansar Allah’s possession of disruptive conventional weapons and drone capabilities as an encouraging game-changing development.9 For Ansar Allah, in turn, the transfer of weaponry and training is part of a package that has increased the group’s revenues, expanded its influence, secured logistical assistance, and allowed Ansar Allah’s elevation in the Axis of Resistance. The IRGC, which is keen to undercut Western interests, seeks to counterbalance rivals such as the United States, the Gulf states, and Türkiye, and expand its reach into the African Horn. It “oversees the strategic direction of this transactional cooperation, with Ansar Allah acting as a sub-regional coordinator given its operational resilience during the Red Sea crisis and geographical proximity,” according to Yazeed al-Jeddawy of the Sana’a Center for Strategic Studies.10 The Quds Force, a member of which sits on Ansar Allah’s Jihad Council, the group’s highest executive body, supervises the weapons transfers.
For Ansar Allah, Somalia’s porous coastlines have become critical to ensuring that the group has access to Iranian supplies and Chinese equipment necessary for the growth of its Iranian-supported drone and missile program.11 Much equipment to Ansar Allah enters through Somalia and Djibouti. Smuggling routes to Yemen include the coastline around the ports of Hodeida, Salif, Ras Issa, and Mocha in Taiz Governorate, al-Shihr and Mukalla in Hadramawt Governorate, Balhalf and Bir Ali in Shabwa Governorate, Nashtun and Sayhut in Mahra Governorate, and, on the Somali side, the Bosaso port in Puntland and the coasts of Burua, Hobyo, Baraawe, Merca, and Qandala, as well as the Barbera port in Somaliland. To supply Ansar Allah, the IRGC relies on Somali piracy networks, al-Shabab, and arms dealers in Yemen and Somalia. Among those coordinating Ansar Allah’s operations in Somalia are Abu Mohammed al-Murtadha and Abu Ibrahim al-Hadi, who not only oversee trafficking deals but also the expansion of cooperation with the Quds Force.12
Second, Ansar Allah’s collaboration with al-Shabab and ISS has indirectly given Iran an opportunity to develop its strategic depth in Somalia and the African Horn and widen its latitude to shape the maritime security architecture in the Gulf of Aden and Bab al-Mandab Strait. During the Gaza conflict, this gave Iran significant leverage over the transportation of hydrocarbons and other goods into the Mediterranean and Europe. An October 2024 report by the UN Panel of Experts on Yemen indicated that Ansar Allah was “evaluating options to carry out attacks at sea from the Somali coast,” having transferred drones and missiles to Somalia. These attacks did not materialize, chiefly because Iran suffered setbacks in its conflict with Israel between July and December 2024, and feared this would lead to more sustained attacks against Iranian territory.
Ansar Allah’s ties with al-Shabab and ISS have also allowed the parties to diversify their tools of access to Somalia’s maritime areas, while creating deniability for their partners. For example, in November 2023, Ansar Allah’s Abdul-Malek al-Aajri claimed that his group had seized a vessel, the Central Park, when in fact it was Somali pirates who had done so in coordination with Ansar Allah, demonstrating their joint influence. Therefore, maritime attacks are increasingly involving multiple actors across the Gulf of Aden, giving Iran and Ansar Allah the means to disrupt Red Sea trade when advantageous.
Ansar Allah’s connections with groups in Somalia have also allowed it to receive information from the other side of the Gulf of Aden in order to strike ships. During the Gaza conflict, Ansar Allah persuaded al-Shabab, ISS, and Somali pirates to attack vessels and block their passage into the Red Sea in solidarity with the Palestinians. An October 2024 UN Panel of Experts on Yemen report concluded that a third of Ansar Allah’s attacks occurred in areas of the Gulf of Aden outside the group’s radar coverage, “suggesting that the Houthis received external assistance in identifying, locating and targeting the vessels.” Such information was probably provided by the IRGC’s spy ship MV Behshad, Russia, al-Shabab, ISS, pirates, or other Somali groups.
In March 2024, Abdul-Malik al-Houthi confidently expressed his intention to expand maritime operations toward the Indian Ocean and Cape of Good Hope, tacitly indicating the possibility of using other countries’ territory to organize direct or proxy attacks. The uptick in Somali piracy during Israel’s offensive in Gaza, alongside Ansar Allah’s disruption of Red Sea maritime traffic, was probably no coincidence, corroborating reports of a partnership between Ansar Allah and al-Shabab.
A third factor behind the collaboration of Ansar Allah, al-Shabab, and ISS, is their shared desire to broaden the front against the United States, Israel, and those African countries supporting the Americans, which they regard as rivals or enemies. The transfer of drones and surface-to-air missiles to al-Shabab, and suicide drones to ISS, has improved the asymmetrical warfare capacity of both groups. This has increased threat perceptions in Ethiopia, Somalia, Djibouti, and Kenya (whose border region with Somalia is unstable), while increasing the groups’ ability to target regional security forces, including those from the Somali National Army, the African Union Transition Mission in Somalia, and U.S. Africa Command. The proliferation of drones has also created an environment in which Western resources may have to be reallocated elsewhere, with Ansar Allah likely hoping this may ease pressure on the group.
There are also domestic motivations for why Ansar Allah has deepened its relations with al-Shabab and ISS, posing potential risks for regional stability. Ansar Allah hopes to see its improved capabilities, networks, and resources in Somalia reflect positively on the trajectories of AQAP and the Islamic State in Yemen against Ansar Allah’s adversaries. Its goal is to increase Sunni jihadi actions in Yemen, which would fuel instability in government-held areas, discrediting the Yemeni government both internally and internationally and deepening mistrust within the government camp.
Ansar Allah appears to be succeeding in this strategy. The UN recently issued a report indicating that al-Shabab “reportedly sent over a dozen operatives to AQAP to acquire operational expertise and knowledge including in unmanned aerial vehicle technology,”13 underscoring the potential for spillover. Given such convergence, AQAP has been increasingly focused on targeting Western interests and forces aligned with Yemen’s government and the Southern Transitional Council, especially since 2021. This encompassed employing booby-trapped drones in 2023. Like al-Shabab and ISS, Ansar Allah and AQAP view the Yemeni government as “pro-Western,” and during the Gaza war AQAP’s resolve to deepen its collaboration with Ansar Allah only increased. As for Iran, the weakening of central governments in Yemen and Somalia has created a vacuum allowing it to expand its leeway to intervene and pursue Tehran’s interests across the Gulf of Aden. This was especially important after the Iran-dominated Axis of Resistance was substantially weakened in the conflict with Israel between October 2023 and December 2024, raising Ansar Allah’s value in the axis and in Iran’s calculations.
The expansion of Ansar Allah’s relationships with Somali non-state actors resonates with Iranian foreign policy objectives in the African Horn. Iran, whose Foreign Ministry spokesperson, Nasser Kanani, has described Africa as a “continent of opportunities,” has been revising its African Horn strategy in recent years, restoring diplomatic ties with Sudan, Djibouti, and Somalia in 2023–2024. Ansar Allah’s footprint in Somalia is a symptom of Iran’s engagement in the African Horn. Furthermore, Ansar Allah’s focus on regional smuggling networks is expected to increase now that the United States again designated the group as a foreign terrorist organization in February 2025 and imposed sanctions on seven of its leaders implicated in smuggling and arms procurement.
The IRGC, mindful of the strategic implications Ansar Allah’s actions have had on global maritime trade and security, has been reinforced in its belief in the importance of having sway in the Gulf of Aden, the Indian Ocean, and toward the Cape of Good Hope. As Iran aims to project power throughout the region and beyond, its aim is to be able to have an impact on maritime developments far from its shores. Polarization, conflict, poverty, fragmentation, and corruption will remain enabling conditions for such an ambition in the medium term. But whether the contrary ideological objectives of Sunni and Shiite jihadi groups will end up dividing the Iranians and Ansar Allah from al-Shabab and ISS, despite their shared anti-Western militancy, remains to be seen.
This publication was produced with support from the X-Border Local Research Network, a program funded by UK International Development from the UK government. The views expressed do not necessarily reflect the UK government’s official policies.
On March 4, Jon Alterman spoke with Renad Mansour, senior research fellow and director of the Iraq Initiative at Chatham House, and Sanam Vakil, director of the Middle East and North Africa program at Chatham House, about the resilience of Iranian networks in the Middle East. Their discussion builds upon a recent Chatham House report Renad co-wrote on the topic. The following episode is a slightly condensed version of their conversation. You can find a link to the video of the complete discussion below.
This video highlights the Community-Based Participatory Methodology (CBPR) and Community-Driven Research approach developed by the Center for Peace and Justice (CPJ) at BRAC University. It will explore how this innovative approach was initially pioneered in Cox’s Bazar, Bangladesh, focusing on refugee governance, and later adapted for new research in Jessore, Bangladesh, addressing critical issues of climate change, migration, and fragility along the Bangladesh-India borderland.
“The war rages just across the border, while we endure sleepless nights in the refugee camps of Bangladesh,” recounts a 30-year-old Rohingya man, who hides in nearby villages to evade forced conscription by armed groups.
Myanmar’s civil war has crossed international borders. As we write this, Rakhine State in Myanmar, the ancestral homeland of the Rohingyas, is undergoing a seismic transformation. Since the collapse of a ceasefire in November 2023, Myanmar’s military junta and the Arakan Army (AA) have fought an intense war over the future of Rakhine State, within which the Rohingya were caught in the crossfire. The subsequent year of fighting has led to the death of more than 1,300 people, mass displacement, and a new territorial order. In 2024, AA made substantial territorial gains and now controls most of Rakhine state, including the entire border with Bangladesh. These dramatic shifts in power cast a long shadow over the already uncertain future of the Rohingya in Myanmar. The Rohingya refugees in Bangladesh’s camps have also been drawn into the escalating war – turning spaces of refuge into an extended battlefield. The renewed transnationalisation of conflict has changed the patterns of gendered violence in the camps, manifesting itself in new refugee movements, the proliferation of Rohingya armed groups, forced conscription campaigns and the imposition of a morality driven and culturally inscribed masculinity, and high prevalence of sexualised violence against women and girls.
Escalating violence has exposed the population in Rakhine to new threats from multiple sides. Extrajudicial killings, arson, rape, and other severe human rights violations against the Rohingya have been reported. A new wave of displacement followed as approximately 80,000 Rohingya sought refuge in Bangladesh in recent months. As of February 2025, the official figure of Rohingya living in the world’s largest refugee camp surpasses one million. These camps have only basic infrastructure, and the rights of the ‘Forcibly Displaced Myanmar Nationals’, which is the official label for the Rohingya in Bangladesh, are minimal. They lack livelihood options and are almost totally dependent on humanitarian aid.
The refugee camps in Bangladesh have become sites of violent power struggles among armed groups, most notably the Arakan Rohingya Salvation Army, Rohingya Solidarity Organisation, Arakan Rohingya Army, and Islami Mahas. These groups have created a climate of fear among refugees. They informally control the camps as ‘night governments’ and operate with near impunity both within the camps and in the wider Bangladesh-Myanmar borderland.
Since early 2024, the Myanmar military, desperate to maintain control, had resorted to forcibly recruiting Rohingya men and boys in Rakhine, exploiting their vulnerability and statelessness. The armed groups active in Bangladesh’s camps also started to abduct Rohingya refugees to fight in Rakhine state. According to reports, over 5,000 male Rohingya were violently or voluntarily conscripted, trained in weapon use, and then sold to warring parties in Myanmar or became part of units of Rohingya armed groups actively engaged in combat. The conscriptions reveal a complex relation between refugeehood, masculinity, and nation-state formation as the armed groups created and instrumentalised societal expectations towards Rohingya men, particularly youth, who should demonstrate a “militarised masculinity” to protect their race, religion, and motherland. In this wake, Rohingya men themselves become highly vulnerable to violence, while patriarchal norms were reaffirmed and the social fabric in the Rohingya camps was transformed.
A representative of a humanitarian NGO working in Cox’s Bazar explained another tactic used by groups forcibly conscripting Rohingya men: “If the brother or father or the husband doesn’t want to go to Myanmar and fight, the groups threaten those families, particularly the daughters or wives. Basically, if the men don’t join, the women will be abducted and raped.” Rohingya women face threats and sexual abuse as leverage against their male relatives, but they also play a critical role in resisting abductions, hiding young men during recruitment sweeps or assisting their escape. Nonetheless, due to forced conscriptions, the deaths of fighters, and men’s onward movements (such as perilous sea journeys to Indonesia or Malaysia) many households in the camps are female-led, which amplifies women’s already existing vulnerabilities to violence.
These dynamics reveal the significance of the camp-border-nexus. The new power of both the Rohingya armed groups in Bangladesh and the Arakan Army in Myanmar rests on their mobility and networks on both sides of the border. Cross-border trafficking of licit and illicit goods, including drugs, forced recruitment, human smuggling, and kidnapping for ransom have become part and parcel of the transnational war economies that continue to fuel violence in both countries.
There is a need for a radically different way of looking at the Rohingya humanitarian crisis, especially if we are to understand its transnational manifestations and gendered nature. To date, the Bangladeshi government and international partners have viewed gender-based violence against Rohingya as a local humanitarian problem that mainly concerns women. While it is true that women and girls are most vulnerable, and most GBV incidents take place in the camps, this focus on violence against women and the site of the camps is too narrow. As sketched, new patterns of gendered violence have emerged, in which Rohingya men are the main targets, and which are clearly linked to armed groups’ cross-border entanglements. Addressing this transnational landscape of gendered violence and enhancing the protection of both Rohingya women and men is a challenge. Nevertheless, recent changes in Bangladesh’s policy, the formation of a Rohingya Task Force, and the upcoming UN summit on the situation of the Rohingya led by Bangladesh’s interim government, offer a rare opportunity to reset the official and humanitarian strategies that have been in place for almost a decade. The chance must not be missed to then also address the transnational roots of insecurity and gendered violence in this contested borderland.
Local understandings of pollution
Unity State, situated in north-central South Sudan, is home to a significant proportion of the country’s oilfields. It is also subject to large-scale flooding. The ensuing flooding started in 2020.[1] Some communities, especially in the Southern part of the state, believed it started much early than this—around 2019.[2] Flooding water in Unity has been there with no significant sign of going away, and this only keeps increasing the level of the water already there each season.
The state’s rural population has been suffering the negative effects of pollution especially since the construction of a pipeline through Unity State in 1999 and the intensification of oil extraction following the Comprehensive Peace Agreement in 2005.
Prior to the post-2005 intensification in oil production, local Nuer regarded the effects of ‘pollution’ as being down to minor everyday actions such as eating with unwashed hands; touching faecal waste; coming into contact with the remains of a dog, donkey, cat or snake; or even just eating unfamiliar foods. However, in the wake of the extreme flooding seen in 2007, together with the rise of modernity—or chop wic as the Nuer would call it—the concept of pollution as it is locally understood has started to change.
Now, local people regularly claim the oil extraction and intense fighting seen in Unity State since the 1990s have poisoned the soil and water, causing sickness in both humans and animals. For instance, thousands of dead fish, mostly tilapia, have been spotted in flooding along the Bentiu–Unity road. It is believed that toxic chemicals from oil production and pollution have entered the drinking water of the communities and their cattle. While the cause of death is unclear, many believe the fish died due to oil pollution in the water. Also believed to be contaminating the water are the vast quantities of unexploded ordinance and military debris strewn along roads, around barracks or where battles took place. All of this is lueng—a Nuer word that literally translates as poisoning, but is also used to describe the general effects of pollution.
To date, little has been done by the state authorities to help mitigate the situation. Thus, when it comes to dealing with the problems posed by water pollution, people are heavily reliant on traditional methods, such as building dykes around their homesteads to prevent influxes of contaminated water.[3] Alternatively, villagers may choose to move away from the source of pollutants, such as the carcass of an animal killed by contaminants. This often involves migrating from flooded land to biil (raised land).[4] Continued, widespread flooding has, however, led to shrinking areas of biil, making it difficult for rural populations and their livestock to secure unflooded—and therefore unpolluted—land. This has led to local tensions and in some cases conflict.
The social impacts of pollution and flooding
A number of serious social problems have arisen in Unity State due to the recurrent flooding and increased pollution. Some reports found that there has been increased in number of children born with birth defects.[5]Here, is it worth noting that there has never been a time when the region’s rural residents have had adequate access to clean, treated water. Although humanitarian organizations did at one-point install hand pumps in some areas, these have now either been uprooted or swallowed by the floods, forcing entire villages to rely on potentially contaminated water. This situation has led to escalating complaints about diarrhoea and the fact that local clinics are unable to provide proper treatment.
Several conflicts have flared due to growing numbers of displaced people crowding into dwindling higher ground, with those thought to possess disease-bearing animals sometimes prevented from settling in these areas. Peter Machieng Chan Gatduel attributed poor agricultural productivity and disruption of civilian livelihoods to dramatic changes in climatic variations such as increased in rainfall and flooding.[6] At the same time, many families displaced from rural villages have either sought refuge in the homes of town-based relatives or sought out dry ground in and around towns, sometimes claiming these areas as their new homes. The area named Mia Sava, for example, is currently occupied by displaced villagers from Rubkona County.[7]Given the uncertainty created by the likelihood of further flooding, there are fears these incomers may decide to remain there permanently, potentially provoking inter-communal tensions.
Moreover, many young people have been separated from their relatives in the rush to migrate to safer areas, such as county headquarters or the state capital. Others, meanwhile, have been drawn into committing road robberies. Such anti-social behaviour is regarded by elders as stemming from dak rool lan (the ruin of our world). As a Nuer elder in Mayom County observes, ‘you can only control your children when you have the power to feed them’.[8]
Flooding and the spread of pollutants
There is still no clear understanding among rural Nuer about what is causing the extreme flooding—some attribute it the over-flowing of the Nile’s water, while others worry the gods have been angered. Nevertheless, 2007 marked a turning point in awareness about the impacts of pollution. The immense flood waters seen that year not only killed huge numbers of livestock and displaced many people from Mayom and Rubkona counties, but spread pollution from oil, war debris and dead animals across the landscape. Most people in the affected areas now believe pollution is affecting their livelihoods and health in ways that were previously unimaginable.
In 2021, Thep fishing camp—an area that runs along the border between Mayom and Rubkona—saw an outbreak of diarrhoea believed to have been caused by the consumption of contaminated fish. About 30 people were affected, ten of whom died. That same year, around 30 cows and 20 elephants were allegedly found dead near a pool close to Tharthiah oil field, with locals attributing their deaths to increased water and soil pollution.
Even more recently, a 2023 Sudd Institute report revealed communities are anxious that new forms of pollution may be responsible for the death of cattle, the deformation of newborn babies and the premature birth of infants.[9] Some residents complain their relatives or children have disappeared in the water, either because they drowned or were poisoned.
All this has led to a widespread local saying that the regular flooding is both a blessing and a curse: a blessing because it brings with it abundant water and fish; and a curse because it not only washes away their crops and top soil, but the contaminated water is perceived to bring unknown diseases that are infecting their cattle. Given the extreme level of flooding seen in recent years, many people now wish the waters did not come at all.
Nuer terms for forms of pollution
People are creating new names for pollution based on the symptoms they observe in a sick cow or person. For example, the flooding of 2014 and 2015 brought with it a serious cattle disease that the pastoralist community in Mayom County named Juornyin (eyes disappear in), based on the fact the cow’s eyes become watery and over time sink deep into its head. Thousands of livestock were lost to the disease, leaving many families with nothing. It is now prohibited to consume any cattle that has died of Juornyin, as residents believe their flesh has been polluted by as-yet-unknown substances. The pastoralist community is possibly the most affected by pollution issues, as their animals depend entirely on untreated water and vegetation.
A similar theory is evolving about local fish populations, with some residents asserting that the taste of tilapia and Nile perch has changed in recent years due to the effects of pollution. People are therefore becoming increasingly selective about which fish they buy at markets for home consumption. Many rural villagers now prefer mudfish and catfish, with these changing tastes reflected in the prices charged for the respective fish: in Mankien fish market, a mudfish sells for SSP 3,000 (about USD 0.60 during the research period) while the equivalent Nile perch sells for SSP 2,500 or less.[10]
Conclusion
Pollution caused by oil extraction and past conflict is, alongside repeated extreme flooding, causing significant negative impacts for the rural communities, livestock and aquatic life of Unity State. Despite repeatedly complaining of birth defects, residents living near oil wells have largely been ignored.
Meanwhile, most villagers are only too aware of the dangers of pollution, but lack the scientific tools necessary to obtain credible information on the local effects of contamination. Thus, until such time as the state is willing to take meaningful action, rural populations must seek their own solutions, such as moving to higher ground or avoiding potentially polluted food wherever possible. It is unlikely, however, that such measures will be viable over the long term.
Notes
[1] Edward Eremugo Kenyi, ‘Climate Change, Oil Pollution, and Birth Defects in South Sudan: A Growing Crisis’, South Sudan Medical Journal 17, no. 4 (December 3, 2024): 157–58. Accessed 15 February 2025, https://doi.org/10.4314/ssmj.v17i4.1.
[2] Focus group discussion (FGD) with farmers and firewood/water-lily roots collectors in St. Bakhita Parish, Mayom, 2 June 2024. FGD with elders and farmers, Mankien, 3 June 2024.
[3] KII with RRC County Director, Guit County, Bentiu town, 15 May 2024.
[4] KII with an NRC Protection worker, Bentiu town, 15 May 2024.
[5] Kenyi, ‘Climate Change, Oil Pollution, and Birth Defects in South Sudan’.
[6] Peter Machieng Chan Gaduel, ‘Reviewing the Climate-Security Nexus: The Impacts of Climate Vulnerability on Pastoralist Conflicts in the Unity State Region, South Sudan’, Queen Mary University of London Global Policy Institute, 2022.
[7] FGD with displaced people, Biemruor, Bentiu town, 21 May 2024.
[8] KII with Paramount chief in Mankien Payam, 6 June 2024; KII with an ex-combatant, Rubkona town, 18 May 2024.
[9] Nhial Tiitmamer and Kwai Malak Kwai Kut, ‘Sitting on a Time Bomb: Oil Pollution Impacts on Human Health in Melut County, South Sudan’, Special Report, The Sudd Institute, January 2021.
[10] FGD with fishermen, Bentiu, Bilnyang/Gany River, 22 May 2024.
Since the 2011 war in Libya, migrant smuggling and trafficking through the country has flourished. This interactive explainer from Chatham House looks at three phases in the development of the migrant smuggling trade through Libya.
In 2011, a brutal conflict between Sudanese government troops and Sudan People’s Liberation Movement–North (SPLM/N) fighters in the Nuba Mountains region forced civilians caught up in the violence to flee across the border to South Sudan.[1] There, in Yida—the first of three refugee camps to be established in the area—the Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) saw to the basic needs of those who had been displaced, including their food, shelter, health and education. Refugees were also able to cultivate crops using handmade farming tools, with the fertile land in Yida camp providing consistently good harvests.
Previously, children living in the Nuba Mountains were often involved in unpaid household work such as bricklaying, cattle-grazing and farm work. Having been displaced, however, the comprehensive international support provided—which extended to unaccompanied children separated from their parents—meant this practical assistance was no longer needed.
In 2020, the long proposed resettlement of refugees living in Yida camp brought an end to UNHCR support. As a consequence, many children in Yida—and increasingly the other two camps as well—have had to seek paid work in order to supplement their family income. Such employment, which can often take children beyond the confines of the camp, includes building work, assisting Bagara nomads with cattle-grazing, and selling poles, grass or charcoals. In undertaking such tasks, children are frequently exposed to financial exploitation and dangerous conditions, placing them at risk of physical and emotional harm. Moreover, the dire economic situation faced in the camp has led to rising numbers of girls and young women having to submit to forced and/or early marriage.
Given the current Sudan war has led to a new wave of displaced people seeking refuge in South Sudan, there is a very real possibility that these dynamics will be further exacerbated over the coming months unless appropriate action is taken. This blog is based on XCEPT research in 2024 involving extensive interviews with Nuba Mountains refugees on South Sudan’s border to understand these dynamics.
Yida, Ajuong Thok and Pamir camps were established in South Sudan’s Ruweng administrative area in order to host refugees escaping the Nuba Mountains conflict.[2] Yida camp served as the main entry point from South Kordofan, and initially hosted 20,000 refugees—mostly survivors of the Kadugli massacre in June. Shortly afterwards, in November 2011, the Sudanese air force provoked international outrage by dropping two bombs on Yida camp, killing 12 refugees and injuring 20. By 2013, the camp’s population had increased to 71,000, the vast majority of whom were women and children.
In March 2013, UNHCR and South Sudan’s Commission for Refugees Affairs established Ajoung Thok camp, which initially held 24,000 refugees and currently hosts over 55,000 refugees.[3] The last of the three camps to be set up was Pamir in September 2016, which was intended to host refugees relocated from Yida camp. Having started out with 34,000 refugees, the camp is currently home to more than 50,000 people, its population swelled by new arrivals escaping the ongoing war in Sudan.[4]
In 2016, UNHCR and the South Sudanese government announced that, given chronic overcrowding issues, the security implications of the camp’s location 20 km from the border with Sudan, and the fact Yida had never been officially recognized as a refugee camp, its inhabitants were to be relocated elsewhere. The Nuba refugees rejected relocation to Ajuong Thok and Pamir, however, arguing the two camps were too close to the border area controlled by the Sudanese government, and that at least Yida was close to SPLM-N authorities in the Nuba Mountains.
Despite these objections, the formal relocation process was eventually set in motion: in October 2019, UNHCR discontinued its food assistance in Yida, and two months later Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF) stopped its medical services. By 2020, refugee schools had been left in the hands of the South Sudan state government, with water and sanitation handed over to local authorities and the refugee community.
During the course of 2020, just 2,758 Yida refugees were relocated to Pamir. Although children could continue to access free education in Pamir, the food ration there was halved from four to two malwas (gallons) of sorghum per person per month, further discouraging Yida refugees from resettling. The relocation has since led to a number of negative impacts for the refugees remaining at Yida, while those living in the two newer camps are also facing increasing hardship. Access to water has become more difficult, while clinical drugs are harder to find, forcing many to turn to herbal medicine.
Of particular concern when it comes to children is the loss of access to free education. Government school fees were initially set at USD 1 and USD 2 per term respectively for primary and secondary schools (based on three terms per school year). These fees have since increased to USD 3 and USD 5 respectively. Many parents, who are already struggling to provide enough food for their families, simply cannot afford these rates.
As a consequence, many children are now having to take up paid work or are leaving home to seek a better life, whether inside the camp or further afield, in Parieng, Liri, Rubkona or the Nuba Mountains.
In the past, children living in the Nuba Mountains region would often be expected to participate in domestic tasks as a means of passing on necessary skills for later in life.[5] For instance, children with pastoralist parents would likely be involved in camel, goat, sheep, cow or donkey rearing, while the children of farmers might be given small plots of land to tend. Other household duties assigned to children included hunting, fishing and collecting wild fruits or firewood. Despite these responsibilities, children (those aged 5–17 years) still had sufficient time to play with their friends.
More recently, having a formal education has acquired greater importance, with most parents keen to ensure their children go to school. When the 2011 war erupted, many Nuba people migrated to South Sudan partly to ensure their children could continue to access a school education.
Today, however, children from poorer families are having to work not to acquire skills, but simply to earn money. One avenue of employment is bricklaying. This would previously have been viewed as man’s work, but the pressures wrought by displacement, the war in Sudan and inflation in South Sudan mean women and children now have to engage in this often back-breaking work for meagre wages.
Another way in which children can make money is assisting Bagara nomads. In this scenario, the refugee parents agree to let the nomad take their child away for the purposes of helping graze their animals, sometimes for months on end. The child is paid a he-goat (worth about USD 100) for every month they work. The he-goats are usually then sold by the parents in order to buy sorghum to supplement the family’s diet, or purchase shoes, medication and soap for other siblings. Having to spend months away from home inevitably means the children assisting the Bagara nomads must forego their education.
According to UNHCR refugee law, refugees are not supposed to return to their countries of origin or even leave the camp to travel to other parts of the host country. The growing difficulty of meeting daily needs has, however, driven many refugees to move to Liri (in Sudan) in search of farming jobs. Commercial farm owners in Liri offer reasonable wages, equivalent to about USD 5 per day. In this scenario, children mostly cross over to Liri with adults, siblings or friends who have previously worked there. Older children (aged 12–17) are sometimes given accommodation by the commercial farm owners for the duration of their employment, following which they return to their camp and give the money they have earned to their parents. Alternatively, children may work alongside their parents before crossing back together.
Refugees arriving in Yida camp between 2011 and 2019 were provided with accommodation by UNHCR. Since then, however, refugees have had to build shelters themselves. In light of this, refugees—children included—have taken to collecting poles and grass from the nearby forest, which they then sell. Some are also involved in building structures for host community members, receiving the equivalent of USD 20 for each one they build. Other refugees have sought to make money by collecting firewood and making charcoal.
Again, tasks such were previously the preserve of adults, and only conducted by children for training purposes under the supervision of their parents. Now, financial imperatives mean it is commonplace for children, even younger ones, to take on these physically arduous tasks for money.
As already touched upon, there are a number of negative implications to children in refugee camps undertaking paid work. Most obviously, they will have less time and energy to attend school or complete homework.[6] Thus, in attempting to meet short-term needs, they end up compromising their long-term futures, perpetuating the cycle of poverty endured by their families.
Children forced to spend long hours engaged in strenuous work also risk suffering serious physical and mental health issues.[7] Mental disorders such as depression and anxiety have become commonplace among children in Ajuong Thok, Pamir and Yida camps, often—according to a focus group discussion with youths[8]—induced by injuries sustained through paid work and the lack of appropriate medication they receive afterwards.
In addition, many of the children who reside at their workplace end up sleeping without a mosquito net, rendering them susceptible to malaria and other chronic diseases.
Back when they used to live in the Nuba Mountains, children were almost entirely exempt from paid work. Now, the pressures of war, ongoing displacement, inflation, insufficient harvests and a lack of support from both the South Sudan government and international organizations mean refugee children—particularly those in Yida—must prioritize making money over pursuing an education.
If this state of affairs is to be reversed, then the government and NGOs must intervene to provide fully funded educational support to refugee children, especially those in direst financial need. In doing so, concerted efforts must be made to incentivize schooling over paid work.
[1] Sudan Human Security Baseline Assessment (HSBA). www.smallarmssurvey.org/project/human-security-baseline-assessment-hsba-sudan-and-south-sudan.
[2] UNHCR, ‘South Sudan: Yida refugee settlement profile’, 28 February 2020. Accessed 23 January 2025, https://data.unhcr.org/en/documents/details/74632.
[3] UNHCR, ‘South Sudan: Ajuong Thok refugee camp profile’, 28 February 2020. Accessed 23 January 2025, https://data.unhcr.org/en/documents/details/74627.
[4] UNHCR, ‘South Sudan: Pamir refugee camp profile’, 28 February 2020. Accessed 23 January 2025, https://data.unhcr.org/en/documents/details/74631.
[5] L. Aquila, ‘Child Labour, Education and Commodification in South Sudan’, Rift Valley Institute, 2022. https://riftvalley.net/publication/child-labour-education-and-commodification-south-sudan/.
[6] Olivier Thévenon and Eric Edmonds, ‘Child labour: causes, consequences and policies to tackle it’, OECD working paper, November 2019.
[7] Anaclaudia Fassa et al., ‘Child Labor and Health: Problems and Perspectives’, International Journal of Occupational and Environmental Health 6: 1 (2000), 55-62.
[8] FGD with Rawada, Fatuma, Alamin, Idriss, Samarn, Naina and Jalla, Yida, 12 June 2024.
Since the 2011 Libyan revolution, the country has endured waves of conflict. As an integral linkage between Africa and Europe, international media highlights a growing migrant crisis through Libya – attributed to a human smuggling and trafficking sector regulated by various local actors.
In this episode, Tim Eaton and Lubna Yousef discuss their latest research on how transnational human smuggling has fuelled conflict in Libya through a systems analysis of three key transit cities – Kufra, Sebha and Zawiya. Using this approach, their research examines the roles played by conflict and social dynamics in the expansion of human smuggling and trafficking – thus helping uncover critical gaps in policies aimed at addressing the rapid rise of migration.
This episode is available on Soundcloud, Apple Podcasts and Spotify.
Kheder Khaddour is a nonresident scholar at the Malcolm H. Kerr Carnegie Middle East Center in Beirut. His research is focused on civil military relations and local identities in the Levant, with a concentration on Syria. Most recently, he co-authored a major paper on Syria’s borders with Armenak Tokmajyan, titled, “Borders Without a Nation: Syria, Outside Powers, and Open-Ended Instability.” Diwan interviewed him in early February to get his perspective on the Syrian-Lebanese border, which has been the site of cross-border conflict in recent weeks.
Michael Young: How has the downfall of the Assad regime in Syria affected the situation along the Syria-Lebanon border?
Kheder Khaddour: In the months leading up to the fall of the Syrian regime, Israeli airstrikes intensified along the border, including those targeting official border crossings. These attacks weakened Hezbollah’s capabilities. The regime’s collapse created a new security reality. Groups operating under the supervision of Hay’at Tahrir al-Sham took control of the official border crossings and their combatants spread across all the border areas, replacing Hezbollah militants and the former Syrian army and security forces. This created an extremely fragile security situation on both sides of the border. On the one hand, the Lebanese state’s authority had always been weak in these areas, and on the other, the groups that took control of the Syrian side had a militia-based structure.
MY: Recently, there has been fighting in border areas. What has been the cause of this?
KK: The most recent round of fighting has been concentrated in the areas of Qusayr in Syria and the Hermel area of northeastern Lebanon. The most crucial factor here has been demographics. There is a mix of Shiite and Sunni villages in these areas. Hezbollah entered Syria through Qusayr in 2013, but the focus today is not on the city itself but primarily on the area west of the Orontes River. In this region, there are mainly Shiite villages populated by Lebanese, whose inhabitants have owned land on the Syrian side of the border for decades. The area, which served as a gateway into Syria during the Syrian conflict, is today the place of armed confrontation between members of Hay’at Tahrir al-Sham and Shiite families such as the Jaafar and Zeaiter clans. These conflicts reflect the ongoing sectarian tensions that have persisted since the outbreak of the Syrian war in 2012.
MY: Smuggling has long been a problem along the border, and recent reports indicate that it is continuing. What are the implications of this for the new Syrian government? Is it in a position to bring such activities to an end?
KK: Smuggling has been a main problem since the establishment of the border between Syria and Lebanon. There are two types of smuggling. First, smuggling involving essential goods, which has never stopped and is linked to price differentials between markets in the two countries. Currently, in the middle of a tense security situation, smuggling networks are transporting goods such as diesel fuel and poultry from Lebanon into Syria. Hundreds of families on both sides of the border depend on this trade for their livelihood. The second type of smuggling is political in nature, and includes weapons, drugs, and people. This has completely stopped in the last two months given the removal of the Assad regime and Hezbollah’s inability to engage in cross-border activities.
MY: What is Hezbollah’s status in the border area, given that at one time the party played a major role in controlling both sides of the border? Have we seen a retreat of Hezbollah on this front?
KK: Hezbollah is currently besieged, with the Lebanese army on one side of the border in Lebanon and members of Hay’at Tahrir al-Sham and affiliated groups on the Syrian side. However, the party retains considerable influence in the Beqaa region and across all Shiite villages along the border. Hezbollah’s activities in the border area depend on two main factors: its position within the new political framework of the Lebanese state; and the security and sectarian tensions along the border, which could create a suitable ground for renewed Hezbollah activity. Another important factor is the ongoing Israeli attacks targeting Hezbollah’s activities and assets. Strikes against clans linked to the party will weaken its presence in the border area, while strengthening Hay’at Tahrir al-Sham on the Syrian side.
MY: One fear in Lebanon is that the new leadership in Damascus has Salafi jihadi origins, and that this may have a spillover effect on Lebanon. Do you consider this scenario realistic, and what do you see as the potential risks?
KK: I think this issue will fundamentally reshape the relationship between Lebanon and Syria. There are three main points here: Syria’s new ideology; the defeat of the so-called Axis of Resistance in the region and the ensuing security vacuum; and the potential for sectarian conflict in Lebanon. The ideology of the forces on the ground in Syria today primarily defines itself through the “other.” That is, the Sunni ideology of Hay’at Tahrir al-Sham is a reaction to the Shiite political ideology that has dominated in Iraq, Syria, and Lebanon since the U.S. invasion of Iraq in 2003. Today, the rulers in Damascus are shaping a new Syrian identity, one based on ideological foundations, which expresses itself through phrases such as the description of Syria as “the state of the Umayyads,” or phrases shared on social media such as, “Oh Iran, go crazy, the Sunnis are coming to rule us!” Even Ahmad al-Sharaa, Syria’s de facto president, has entered the fray, speaking of a “natural Syria,” by which he means a Sunni Syria, as opposed to a Shiite Syria.
The Axis of Resistance has left a large security vacuum in Syria after its defeat by Israel in the year after the October 7, 2023 Hamas attack from Gaza. This vacuum has been filled by local jihadi groups, which could provide inspiration to Salafi networks inside Lebanon, enabling them to express themselves from Tripoli to Akkar and the Beqaa Valley. The Salafi movement in Lebanon feels empowered because of the developments in Syria, and its relationship with its Syrian counterparts is likely to strengthen over time. Such a development could create sectarian tensions in Lebanon, with local conflicts undermining civil peace and stability. For example, in the Zahleh region, there are two towns, Taalabaya, which includes Shiites, and Saadnayel, which is Sunni. Celebrations in Saadnayel over Assad’s downfall were characterized by schadenfreude directed against the Shiites of Taalabaya. Posters of Ahmad al-Sharaa on car windows and jihadi songs fill the streets every now and then. Such practices could escalate into armed confrontations across regions of Lebanon.
More generally, religion does not drive politics and what takes place on the ground. However, local identity is already politicized, and as long as the situation in Syria remains unstable, the general mood in Lebanon will be charged and susceptible to mobilization based on perceptions of the self and of the other. This is what we need to watch out for.
Read the full interview here.
In this episode, we highlight the Women Researchers Fellowship, an initiative by the X-Border Local Research Network that supports early-career female researchers in conflict-affected border regions across Asia, MENA, and the Horn of Africa. The fellows share their research, the challenges they face in male-dominated fields, and the new networks they’ve built through the XCEPT programme. Listen as these six distinguished fellows discuss their areas of interest, offer insights into researching in conflict zones, and explore the contributions they aim to make in their fields.
The Research Fellows
Hilina Berhanu Degefa, Ethiopia
Women’s participation in non-state ethnic and ethno-national armed groups in Ethiopia with cross-border implications with Kenya and internal borders.
Htoo Htet Naing, Myanmar
Exploring aspirations and challenges:community perceptions of governance stability and peacebuilding in northern Rakhine states.
Moneera Yassien, Sudan
Use of quantitative methods to analyze the impact of localized conflict on cross-border trade on the Kenya-Uganda border.
Salma Daoudi, Morocco
Complexities of healthcare and impact on security and wellbeing of displaced Syrians on the Turkish-Syria border regions.
Ilyssa Yahmi, Algeria
Smuggling and conflict in the Sahara region in two-fold: Smuggling as a tool for rebel control and governance; and studying the relationship between human smuggling and border securitization.
Faryak Khan, Pakistan
Exploring the peace and conflict nexus in new emerged tribal districts in Pakistan especially in the northwestern border with Afghanistan.
In 2014, the self-styled Islamic State committed genocide against the Yezidi population in Iraq. To mark the anniversary of the genocide, Kings’ College London’s War Studies podcast featured Dr Inna Rudolf speaking with renowned Yezidi human rights advocate Mirza Dinnayi about what life is like for the Yezidi community ten years on from the genocide. Inna and Mirza discuss justice and accountability, the geopolitical situation in the Yezidis’ ancestral homeland, and what still needs to be done to support the community as they deal with a legacy of discrimination that precedes the atrocities of 2014.
This episode is available on Spotify, SoundCloud, and Apple Podcasts,
