“The Red Sea region encapsulates post-liberal international transformations” Federico Donelli

For several years now, the Red Sea has been at the epicenter of compounding crises, each one raising the stakes for the next. Israel has traded strikes with the Houthis at the waterway’s southern entrance. Ethiopia and Eritrea, having fought the TPLF together, are now on the brink of fighting between themselves. The United States and China maintain military bases within a few kilometres of each other in Djibouti. And Sudan’s civil war, now in its fourth year, has killed more than 100,000 people and produced what the UN has called the world’s largest humanitarian disaster. It has drawn in neighbouring powers from Saudi Arabia and Egypt as well as distant players like Turkiye, Iran, the UAE and Russia.

The region has not been allowed to catch its breath. Even Saudi Arabia, which had managed to keep the worst of the turbulence at arm’s length, has since late February come under repeated Iranian drone and missile attacks, with Tehran accusing Riyadh of hosting American bases that participated in the joint US-Israeli strikes. Those attacks moved to the background a rift that had emerged between Saudi Arabia and the UAE over its conduct in the Red Sea, through its support for the paramilitary Rapid Support Forces and the now-defunct Southern Transitional Council in Yemen. Meanwhile, Israel's recent decision to recognise Somaliland — and reports that it is using the territory as a base for intelligence operations — suggests its confrontation with the Houthis is far from over.

What connects all of this? Federico Donelli, a scholar of international relations at the University of Trieste and the author of Power Competition in the Red Sea, argues that the answer begins with how we think about the region itself. The Red Sea, in his telling, is not a body of water flanked by unrelated countries but a coherent region shaped by centuries of cultural exchange, political entanglement, and the movement of peoples across both its African and Asian shores. What looks like a series of overlapping emergencies is, on his reading, the latest iteration of dynamics that have defined this space for a very long time — only now playing out against the backdrop of a fracturing global order. He spoke to Geeska about his new book.

Faisal Ali: Your first book was about Turkey in Africa, and you've built a reputation researching middle powers on the continent. But this book is a much bigger canvas — the Red Sea as a whole, and the fate of the global order itself. What was the intellectual journey that brought you here?

Federico Donelli: My earlier work on Turkey’s involvement in Africa was, in many ways, an entry point into a much broader set of questions. Initially, I was interested in how a so-called middle power could expand its influence in regions traditionally shaped by great powers, and in the ways in which tools such as security cooperation, infrastructure and political partnerships could be used to carve out strategic space. However, as I studied Turkey’s involvement, especially in countries such as Somalia, it became clear that this was not merely a matter of one country's foreign policy.

Instead, a much more complex picture emerged: a dense web of interactions involving regional and extra-regional actors, all converging in a strategically vital area such as the Red Sea. The region started to look less like a peripheral arena and more like a central node where different layers of competition, such as local conflicts, regional rivalries and global power projection, intersect. This realisation prompted me to shift my focus from a single country to a more systemic perspective. The Red Sea region is a compelling case study because it encapsulates many of the transformations associated with the so-called post-liberal international order, such as the erosion of clear hierarchies, the proliferation of actors, and the increasing overlap between cooperation and competition. In this context, middle powers are not just secondary players; they often set the agenda, shaping outcomes in ways that complicate traditional great-power-centric narratives.

So, rather than being a rupture, the intellectual journey was a gradual expansion. What started as an investigation into Turkey’s growing influence in Africa evolved into an attempt to understand how regional dynamics are being reshaped amid intensified global competition. In this sense, the Red Sea became both the empirical focus and the analytical prism through which to explore the changing nature of the international order.

FA: One of the central arguments you’re making is that the Red Sea and its surrounding countries — the two shores, as you put it, the African and the Asian — should be understood as a single region. People are slowly coming to this realisation. Why has the intellectual habit of treating them separately persisted for so long, and what does it cost us analytically when we do?

FD: The division between the African and Asian shores of the Red Sea is deeply rooted in the historical organisation of knowledge and policy by both academia and government bureaucracies. This is not only an intellectual habit, but an institutional one too. Area studies and international relations have long prioritised territorial entities (states, subregions and even continents) as the primary units of analysis. As a result, Africa and the Middle East/West Asia have developed as distinct scholarly and policy domains, each with their own journals, expert communities and ministerial structures. This has created a robust “epistemic and bureaucratic border” across the Red Sea, despite the fact that the political, economic and security dynamics on the ground have never recognised it.

There is also a legacy of geopolitics embedded in this division. During the Cold War and, even more so, in the post-9/11 period, analytical and policy attention was structured around security concerns that reinforced this division. The Horn of Africa was often viewed through the lens of state fragility and humanitarian intervention, typically under the remit of the development or foreign affairs departments, while the Arabian Peninsula was primarily approached through the prism of energy security, counterterrorism and Gulf politics. These issues were often managed by different regional desks and ministerial departments. The Red Sea between them became an analytical and administrative blind spot rather than a connective space.

The cost of this fragmentation is significant. Firstly, it obscures the extent to which the two regions are interdependent: conflicts, alliances, trade routes, migration flows and military deployments are all deeply intertwined. Secondly, it can lead to misdiagnosis. Treating Yemen separately from the Horn of Africa or Sudan separately from the Gulf monarchies, for example, would mean missing the feedback loops that actually shape escalation and stabilisation dynamics. Thirdly, it produces policy incoherence. External actors, whether regional or global, often intervene on one shore through one ministerial logic without fully understanding the systemic effects on the other.

What I am trying to argue is that the Red Sea should be conceptualised as a single, interconnected regional space; what I refer to in my work as a hybrid and contested regional security complex. This is not just an exercise in conceptual tidiness; it is necessary in order to understand how power, insecurity and connectivity actually operate today. Once we adopt this perspective, what previously appeared as separate crises begin to look like part of a single strategic system.

FA: You draw a direct line between the relative decline of US power and the intensification of competition among regional actors. But is that relationship straightforward? Is this simply a vacuum being filled, or are there dynamics in the region that are driving competition independently of what Washington does or doesn't do?

FD: It is not a straightforward 'vacuum-filling' story, and I think this framing can be misleading if taken too literally. The relative reduction or reorganisation of US engagement certainly constitutes an important structural condition: it alters expectations, reduces the costs of regional initiatives and diminishes the extent to which external arbitration previously helped stabilise certain balances. In that sense, shifts in US power matter.

However, the intensification of competition in the Red Sea region cannot be attributed solely to this factor. There are endogenous dynamics that are equally, if not more, important. Firstly, many regional actors have adopted much more ambitious foreign policies over the past decade. States such as Turkey, the Gulf monarchies, Iran and, increasingly, medium-sized African states are no longer merely reacting to external frameworks; they are actively projecting influence, building partnerships and competing for strategic depth. These actions are driven by their domestic political economies, security perceptions and status ambitions. Secondly, the region itself has become more central to global connectivity. The Red Sea is no longer a peripheral space; it sits at the intersection of major maritime routes, energy flows and infrastructure projects. This creates inherent incentives for competition, regardless of the presence of the US. Control over ports, logistics corridors and security arrangements has become an influence currency in its own right. Thirdly, we should consider the fragmentation of regional orders. Both the Middle East and the Horn of Africa are characterised by overlapping conflicts, weak or contested state authority in key areas, and the proliferation of non-state and hybrid actors. These conditions generate what we might call 'competitive permeability': external and regional actors can easily insert themselves into local dynamics, but they rarely do so in a stabilising way.

So, rather than a simple vacuum being filled, we are seeing the co-constitution of dynamics. Changes in US posture are important, but they interact with pre-existing regional rivalries, new ambitions and the growing strategic importance of the Red Sea region. The result is not just greater competition, but a more complex, multi-layered form of it where causality runs in multiple directions simultaneously.

FA: If the decline of the liberal order has reshuffled the deck, who has been the biggest winner in the Red Sea region, and who has been most exposed by it?

FD: In such a fluid and multi-layered environment, it is very difficult to clearly identify winners and losers. What we are actually witnessing is not a zero-sum redistribution of gains, but rather a broader transformation of the international system, involving simultaneous changes to the rules of engagement, the hierarchy of actors and the instruments of influence available. In this sense, the end of, or decline in the strength of, the liberal order has certainly reshuffled the deck. New opportunities have emerged for actors that were previously more constrained or less visible in the region. Middle powers, Gulf states and regional actors across the African and Asian shores of the Red Sea have all gained a greater margin of manoeuvre. They can now act more autonomously, engage in flexible alliances, and utilise a broader spectrum of tools, ranging from security cooperation to infrastructure diplomacy and port access strategies. However, it is important to exercise caution when translating this increased activism into definitive 'winners'. A greater presence does not automatically equate to greater control or the long-term consolidation of influence. Many of these engagements remain competitive and reversible, and are highly dependent on local conditions that external actors cannot fully control.

Conversely, actors that were historically more central in structuring the regional order have seen their ability to unilaterally shape outcomes become more limited. This is particularly true of Western powers. These powers operate through more hierarchical and institutionally embedded frameworks. However, even here, 'exposure' is relative: these actors still possess considerable capabilities, networks and leverage, even if they are now just one group among many, rather than the primary arbiters of the system.

So, rather than a clear distribution of winners and losers, the current phase is characterised by uncertainty about consolidation. The reality of international politics has changed, as have the opportunities available to different actors. However, it remains an open question to what extent these opportunities will translate into durable advantage for some and sustained marginalisation for others.

FA: You argue that the old patron-client model — where a superpower called the shots and local actors largely complied — no longer describes the Red Sea. What has replaced it? What impact is that likely to have?

FD: The old patron–client model no longer reflects the reality of the Red Sea region. This does not mean that asymmetry has disappeared; rather, it has become more fluid and unpredictable than in the past. Today, we see a system of fragmented and transactional relations where cooperation is issue-specific and constantly renegotiated. Alongside this, there are multiple and shifting hierarchies; power is not organised along a single, stable hierarchy, but varies depending on the issue area and context. An actor may be influential in one area, such as security or mediation, and dependent in another, such as finance or external protection. Even those in formally weaker positions can now exercise a degree of agency by leveraging geography, access or strategic relevance, and by engaging with multiple partners simultaneously.

Therefore, what has replaced the old model is not a new hierarchy, but rather a more decentralised and layered structure of interaction. Although asymmetry persists, it is increasingly shaped by overlapping and variable hierarchies, making influence more contested and less stable than before.

FA: You use the Tigray conflict as your central case study, describing it as a kind of laboratory where local, regional, and global rivalries were all simultaneously at work. What does the post-Tigray landscape tell us about where the Red Sea region is actually heading?

FD: The Tigray conflict is useful precisely because it demonstrates the difficulty of interpreting the region through stable categories or enduring alliances. One of its key lessons is that there are no fixed configurations in the Red Sea region, in terms of either alliances or enmities. In Tigray, we observed a constant reconfiguration of positions, with actors shifting roles, objectives, and partnerships rapidly and in unpredictable ways. In this respect, the conflict acted as a kind of laboratory in which local dynamics, regional rivalries and broader international interests overlapped and interacted simultaneously. It also highlighted the extreme fragmentation of the landscape of actors, in which state actors operate alongside a dense constellation of non-state, sub-state and hybrid actors, such as militias, regional authorities and informal security providers, each with their own agendas and external connections.

Therefore, what the post-Tigray landscape tells us is not just about that specific war, but also about the broader nature of the regional system. There are no permanent solutions or alliances to be expected. Even after formal agreements or apparent stabilisation, there are strong incentives for reconfiguration, and state and non-state actors continue to adjust their positions in response to shifting regional and international dynamics. The Red Sea region is therefore characterised by persistent fluidity and deep fragmentation. The Tigray experience highlights that alliances are flexible and often tactical, as well as frequently reversible, while authority itself is dispersed across multiple, overlapping layers of actors. This makes the system harder to stabilise and even harder to predict, reinforcing the idea of a region defined by continuous adjustment rather than equilibrium.