The death of the Iranian president, Ebrahim Raisi, in a helicopter crash comes at a time when the country, faced by unprecedented external challenges, was already bracing itself for a change in regime with the expected demise in the next few years of its 85-year-old supreme leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei.
In the country’s hydra-headed leadership where power is spread in often opaque ways between clerics, politicians and army, it is the supreme leader, and not the president, that is ultimately decisive. Indeed, in some ways the posts of president, and prime minister – originally based on a model of the French constitution – became overwhelmed in the drafting of Iran’s constitution in 1979, leading to advocates of a more powerful presidency to claim the role was being subsumed in a form of autocracy created in the name of religion.
The presidency, however loyal to the supreme leader – and Raisi was considered very loyal to Khamenei – is often cast in the role as a useful scapegoat helping the supreme leader to avoid criticism. That certainly became the fate of Raisi’s predecessor, Hassan Rouhani, who became a punchbag for decisions taken elsewhere. In recent months Raisi, elected president in 2021 but in practice handpicked by the supreme leader, had been mentioned as a possible successor to Khamenei. His death instead clears a thorny path for Khamenei’s son, Mojtaba Khamenei.
The choice is made by an 88-strong “assembly of experts”, and Raisi’s departure certainly increases the chances of a hereditary succession in Iran, something many clerics oppose as alien to Iran’s revolutionary principles. Raisi’s death will add to the sense of a country already in political transition. A new hardline parliament was only just elected on 1 March in which turnout for some of the elections fell below 10%, and was overall presented as reaching a nationwide turnout of only 41% – a record low.
Reformist or moderate politicians were either disqualified or soundly beaten, leaving a new and, as yet, untested division in parliament between traditional hardliners and an ultra-conservative group known as Paydari or the Steadfastness Front. The effective exclusion of reformists from political participation in parliament for the first time since 1979 adds to the sense of a country in uncharted waters.
The cumulative disruption also comes at a time when Iran can ill afford such uncertainty as it faces western challenges over its nuclear programme, a dire economy and tense relations with other Middle Eastern states, especially with regard to relations with Israel and the US.
The loss of Hossein Amir-Abdollahian, the foreign affairs minister, in the helicopter crash only adds to a sense of instability for a country that prided itself on control and predictability. His most likely successor is his deputy, Ali Bagheri, but hardliners may regard him as too willing to negotiate with the west over Iran’s nuclear programme.
Although Iran has not lost a president in office since the revolution in 1979, the country has a clear formal system for succession in which the first vice-president – currently Mohammad Mokhber – takes charge. Few regard Mokhber, a banker and former deputy governor of the Khuzestan province, as presidential material. A new president should be elected within 50 days, giving the supreme leader and his entourage relatively little time to select someone that will not only become president at such a critical time, but also will be in a strong position succeed Khamenei himself. The immediate challenge of any new leader will be to control not just internal dissent, but the factional demands within the country to take a tougher line with the west and draw closer to Russia and China.
With the sudden death of President Ebrahim Raisi, the Iranian regime unexpectedly finds itself faced with having to hold elections to appoint a successor. The choice for Tehran is whether to allow the vote to be semi-democratic and contested, or risk nothing by ensuring no candidate with any organisation or following stands against the hardliner likely to be chosen as the regime’s preferred candidate. It is not likely to be a long discussion.
Recent experience suggests the regime will opt for the safety of an election in which its chosen candidate has no serious rival, even if this leads to a lower turnout and a disillusioned electorate. With so much external and internal pressure on the regime, central to which is the inevitable and looming need to replace the 85-year-old supreme leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, the regime is not likely to leave much to chance. This is a critical moment, Khamenei and his allies will believe, for continuity and security.
Such a decision comes with risks. Iran has a long and well-known history of filtering out potential political leaders from elections. All candidates have to be deemed qualified by an elite body known as the Guardian Council, and are interviewed to ensure their worthiness for high office.
In most cases, shunned candidates shrug their shoulders and walk away. Many do not even put their names forward, knowing they will be rejected. The less the process is challenged, the less its methods are scrutinised.
Over the last month, however, a public row about the process has developed between the former president Hassan Rouhani and the Khamenei-appointed Guardian Council which has gone to the heart of the arguments about the president’s role and legitimacy. The dispute stems from Rouhani, who was presidentfrom 2013-21, having been banned from standing this year for the Assembly of Experts, an 88-strong body that selects the supreme leader.
Rouhani, already bruised by the way he was treated as president, had refused to acquiesce on the matter. Last week, he wrote a scathing open letter that he said was written not out of personal ambition, but in defence of the republic, and insisting he would not be silent in the face of his attempted sidelining.
He revealed in correspondence with the Guardian Council that he had failed the qualification test on the grounds of insulting the judiciary and the council, lacking political vision and lacking commitment to the constitution – accusations he insisted were an attempt to usurp the authority of the president. He argued that if the Guardian Council could disqualify from future public office leaders with whom they had political, not religious, differences, the president is no longer answerable to the people, but to an unelected body.
Recalling the number of times he had been elected with the support of millions of votes, Rouhani asked: “Do the jurists of the Guardian Council with the least political, security and diplomatic experience have the expertise to disqualify candidates because of what they call political knowledge and insight? You who accuse the candidates of not knowing the people, how many times and in which competitive elections have you exposed yourself to the people’s vote?”
In the withering assessment of his treatment, he said he had been found guilty on the basis of evidence compiled by “agents whose files are a mixture of factional analysis and intercepted and mostly illegal wiretapping, and whose reports turn into vague and general letters with obvious purpose”.
He further warned: “Future presidents (if such an office and institution remains) should know that with this indictment, even they no longer have political freedom and will be unable to perform their legal duties, and instead of the constitution, they should be subject to the Guardian Council, Otherwise, do not doubt that the position of president at the end of the term of office (or even halfway) will be the ceiling and the last responsibility for which they are qualified.”
Referring to specific criticisms of his time in office, Rouhani defended his role in negotiating the landmark 2015 nuclear deal with the US under the Obama administration. Referring to Donald Trump’s subsequent withdrawal from the deal in 2018, he said: “My government is proud that it was not only a government of negotiations, but also became a government of resistance when Trump’s unconventional government appeared in the United States.” The agreement had been endorsed by the supreme leader.
Equally, he said, a president had a right to speak about the judiciary’s flaws. And crucially, he argued, criticising others, as he did as president, was not unIslamic. “Freedom of speech is a right, although someone may use this right to say something wrong,” he wrote.
The cumulative effect of the Guardian Council’s actions, he said, would be to reduce voter participation.
Rouhani’s criticisms, written at a time when Iran was not expecting elections, will resonate with many, but the chances of his warnings being heeded and the supreme leader allowing an open field seem slim.
Recent experience suggests the regime will opt for the safety of an election in which its chosen candidate has no serious rival, even if this leads to a lower turnout and a disillusioned electorate. With so much external and internal pressure on the regime, central to which is the inevitable and looming need to replace the 85-year-old supreme leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, the regime is not likely to leave much to chance. This is a critical moment, Khamenei and his allies will believe, for continuity and security.
The perennial challenge to Iran remains relations with Israel, which reached a new pitch of danger in April when the two countries exchanged fire, sparked by an Israeli attack on the Iranian consulate in Damascus, and more broadly by Iran’s support for proxy groups willing to fight Israel, including Hamas and Hezbollah.
But any new president will have to make big decisions over Iran’s nuclear programme. On 9 May, Kamal Kharrazi, the supreme leader’s foreign policy advisor and former Iranian foreign minister, said Iran would consider a doctrinal shift to nuclear deterrence if Israel attacked what Iran said were civilian nuclear sites.
Rafael Grossi, the head of the UN nuclear inspectorate the IAEA, warned Iran to end the loose talk about developing a nuclear weapon, saying it was disturbing. Opponents of the regime, still powerful through civil resistance, will not mourn Raisi’s death due to his role in repressing the “woman, life, freedom” protests.
Older Iranians revile Raisi for his role as deputy prosecutor in Tehran in 1988 when, at the age of 28, he played a prominent role in a movement that killed as many as 30,000 political prisoners, mostly members of the People’s Mujahedin Organisation in Iran (MEK).
In 2019 he was chosen as head of the judiciary by Khamenei, a role he used to increase state hostage-taking and continue domestic repression through revolutionary courts.
Patrick Wintour is the Diplomatic Editor of the Guardian
In an alarming escalation, Israeli Defence Minister Israel Katz has announced the “capture of large areas” of the Gaza Strip to be permanently integrated into Israeli “security zones.” This declaration, made on April 15, 2025, signals a dangerous and irreversible shift in the decades-long Israeli occupation: the transition from occupation to de facto annexation.
Israeli airstrikes continue to pummel Khan Younis and Rafah, killing dozens, including women, children, and the elderly. Gaza’s Health Ministry reports over 900 people killed in recent days alone — many of them children. The cumulative death toll now exceeds 50,000, with more than 110,000 injured, many maimed for life. The majority are civilians.
In the most chilling development this week, a mass grave was uncovered in Khan Younis containing the bodies of 15 Palestinian rescue workers — bound, shot, and buried. These were not combatants, but medics and volunteers. The execution-style killings speak to a deepening moral crisis that now grips the conflict.
Strategic Expansion: Occupation Masquerading as Security
Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has recently confirmed Israel’s intentions to create a “second Philadelphi corridor,” effectively carving Gaza into disconnected territories. This would further divide and control the population, while seizing critical border areas along the Egypt-Gaza frontier.
Human rights organizations, including Israel’s own Gisha, warn that Israel has already seized 62 square kilometers of Gaza — nearly one-fifth of the territory — under the guise of “buffer zones.” These so-called zones increasingly resemble permanent annexations. What began as a war is morphing into a land grab, executed under the fog of military necessity.
As one analyst told The Islamic Economist: “This is not just about dismantling Hamas. It is about redrawing the map of Gaza, erasing Palestinian sovereignty, and engineering a demographic reality where Palestinians are forced to leave or live under siege indefinitely.”
Trump Administration and the Shift in American Policy
Under the current Trump administration, Israel enjoys unprecedented diplomatic latitude. Former President Biden opposed any moves to reoccupy Gaza or expel its residents, insisting on a political solution. President Trump, however, has openly spoken of Gaza as a potential “Riviera” and suggested relocating Palestinians to Egypt or Jordan — ideas widely condemned as ethnic cleansing.
Simultaneously, the Israeli government has quietly launched a bureau for the “voluntary transfer” of Gaza’s population. But with Gaza reduced to rubble, its hospitals shut down, bakeries burned, and humanitarian aid blocked, what appears voluntary on paper is, in reality, coerced displacement.
The UN and the Organisation of Islamic Cooperation (OIC) have warned that such transfers violate international law, potentially amounting to war crimes. But with a muted response from key Western capitals, including Washington, the machinery of occupation continues unabated.
Deliberate Starvation as a Tool of War
Since January, Israel has imposed a near-total siege on Gaza. Water systems have been destroyed. Fuel is forbidden. Wheat reserves have run out. The United Nations World Food Programme says all bakeries are now closed. Only a few humanitarian kitchens remain — and they too are on the verge of collapse.
The result: Gaza is now facing famine. Children are dying from dehydration and starvation, not just bombs. Diseases are spreading through overcrowded shelters and makeshift camps. The siege is not a byproduct of war — it is the strategy itself.
By making Gaza uninhabitable, Israel appears to be pressuring its civilian population to flee. As history has shown — from the Nakba in 1948 to today — displacement is not a side effect. It is the plan.
Hostages and the Politics of Delay
Israel continues to justify its campaign by citing the 59 hostages held by Hamas since the October 2023 attack, which killed 1,200 Israelis. But as families of the hostages grow increasingly vocal, many accuse the government of sacrificing their loved ones for political and territorial gains.
Polls show that the Israeli public now favors a ceasefire deal that brings the hostages home, even if it means withdrawing from Gaza. But the Netanyahu government — emboldened by far-right coalition partners and a sympathetic White House — refuses to halt the offensive.
Hamas, meanwhile, demands a permanent ceasefire and the right to remain in power. Israel insists on total military victory and Hamas’s destruction. The resulting deadlock is costing lives — every day.
A Moment of Reckoning for the Muslim World
The silence from many Muslim capitals is deafening. While some countries have condemned the atrocities, few have taken tangible steps — whether diplomatic, legal, or economic — to halt the carnage. The Ummah watches in horror, but action remains limited.
Yet this is not just a Palestinian issue. It is a moral and existential test for the Islamic world. Gaza is not just being destroyed — it is being erased. If this moment passes without consequence, the precedent will be set: that under the right geopolitical conditions, a people can be displaced, their land seized, and their history rewritten — with impunity.
The Muslim world must ask: what kind of future are we building, if the soil of the Holy Land can be soaked in blood and the world simply watches?
Conclusion: Toward Justice, Not Just Ceasefire
This is not just a war. It is a transformation of Gaza’s geography, identity, and people. The Palestinian struggle is no longer about borders — it is about survival.
The Islamic world, together with all people of conscience, must raise its voice against this unfolding injustice. Ceasefire is no longer enough. What is needed is an international movement — legal, economic, political, and moral — to end the occupation, prevent annexation, and restore dignity and self-determination to the Palestinian people.
Gaza may be small in landmass. But in the story of justice, it has become a vast battlefield for the soul of humanity.
After nearly two years of brutal fighting, Sudan’s civil war is at a critical juncture: the Sudanese Armed Forces announced it has regained control of the capital Khartoum from its rivals, the paramilitary Rapid Support Forces. It’s yet to be seen if this signals a break in the war or is simply another phase in the fighting. In this article, Kagure Gacheche tracks the conflict since it began in 2023.
Sudan has been engulfed in brutal conflict since 15 April 2023, when tensions between the country’s two most powerful military factions erupted into civil war.
The conflict stems from a long-standing power struggle over military control and integration. Fighting between the Sudanese Armed Forces and the paramilitary Rapid Support Forces began in the capital, Khartoum, and quickly spread across the country. International efforts to broker peace since have largely failed.
The conflict, which has been going on for two years now, has created one of the world’s worst humanitarian emergencies. An estimated 30 million Sudanese civilians are in need of aid. Brutal attacks, looting and destruction of infrastructure have become commonplace. Millions of people lack access to essential medical care. Food shortages and economic collapse have worsened the suffering. The war has also triggered a massive displacement crisis, with more than 14 million people forced to flee their homes. Many have sought refuge in neighbouring countries, while others remain trapped in dangerous conditions within Sudan.
As the conflict drags on, the toll on Sudan’s people continues to grow. Estimates of those killed vary widely, from 20,000 to 62,000, but the actual figure could be much larger. With no clear resolution in sight, Sudan’s crisis is one of the most urgent and devastating conflicts in the world. At The Conversation Africa, we have worked with academics who have tracked the conflict since 2023.
Weapons flow
Early on, it was clear that both the Sudanese army and the paramilitary force had a sufficient supply of weapons to sustain a protracted conflict. The country was already awash with firearms. It is ranked second – after Egypt – among its regional neighbours in total firearms estimates. Khristopher Carlson, part of a research project tracking small arms and armed violence in Sudan, noted that the two Sudanese forces might have different fighting methods but were adequately equipped to trade fire. The army’s superiority was its air force and heavy arsenal on the ground. The paramilitary force relied on nimble mobile units equipped primarily with small and light weapons.
External interference
This proliferation of weapons has been compounded by financial and military support from external states. Various foreign players – Chad, Egypt, Iran, Libya, Qatar and Russia – have picked a side to support. However, the influence of Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates has been particularly problematic. Political scientist Federico Donelli explained that the two nations viewed Sudan as a key nation because of its location. Following President Omar al-Bashir’s ouster in 2019, the two monarchies bet on different factions within Sudan’s security apparatus. This external support exacerbated internal competition. Riyadh maintained close ties with army leader Abdel Fattah al-Burhan. Abu Dhabi aligned itself with the head of the Rapid Support Forces, Mohamed Dagalo, or Hemedti.
Regional dynamics
The support from international players in Sudan’s war has had a damaging effect on regional dynamics. The Sudanese army recently accused the United Arab Emirates of supplying the Rapid Support Forces with weapons through Chad. At a ceremony for an officer killed in a drone strike carried out by paramilitary forces, a senior army official said Chad’s airports would be “legitimate targets” should retaliatory action become necessary. This heightened the risk of a spillover of the Sudanese conflict. Sudan shares borders with seven countries in an unstable region, including Chad, South Sudan, Eritrea and Ethiopia. Economics professor and legal expert John Mukum Mbaku warned that a spillover of the fighting could devastate the region economically, socially and politically.
Protecting civilians
The conflict has put millions of civilians in Sudan in the crossfire. A UN report in September 2024 called for an independent force to protect civilians; Sudan’s officials rejected the proposal. However, peace talks have yet to achieve a lasting ceasefire. Sudan had a peacekeeping force between 2007 and 2020, followed by a UN-led political mission that exited in February 2024. Since then, there has been no security presence in Sudan responsible for protecting civilians. Peacekeeping researcher Jenna Russo noted the need for a regional or international peace force that could create “green zones”. This would help protect areas where displaced persons were sheltering and facilitate humanitarian aid.
What’s been missing?
High-level peace talks brokered by the African Union and the UN to negotiate a ceasefire have largely been unsuccessful, putting civilians at constant risk. Talks held in Switzerland and Jeddah have had little impact. Philipp Kastner, a peace scholar, highlighted that the countries hosting or supporting these talks were pursuing competing interests in Sudan, which affected their impartiality. Progress to negotiate an end to the war would be unlikely if external military support to the warring parties continued unabated. Civilians would continue to pay the price.
Kagure Gacheche is the commissioning Editor, East Africa.
In a surprising development, Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky has agreed to a mutual pause in attacks on energy infrastructure with Russia for 30 days, marking a potential step toward a broader cease-fire. The agreement, facilitated through a phone conversation with former U.S. President Donald Trump, underscores the shifting dynamics of international involvement in the ongoing conflict.
The Cease-Fire Agreement: Tactical or Strategic?
While the 30-day truce is being framed as a diplomatic breakthrough, there are indications that the Kremlin has not deviated from its broader objectives in Ukraine. Russia’s agreement to pause strikes on energy infrastructure, participate in prisoner exchanges, and discuss security in the Black Sea has been presented as a concession. However, these elements align with longstanding Russian interests, making it unclear whether the Kremlin has genuinely altered its stance or is simply buying time.
Zelensky, while agreeing to the deal, expressed skepticism regarding Russia’s commitment, emphasizing the need for U.S. monitoring. “Just the assertion and the word of Putin that he will not strike energy sites is too little,” he remarked, underscoring the deep mistrust between Kyiv and Moscow.
Russian Strategy and Western Concerns
Western analysts argue that the Kremlin’s approach remains fundamentally unchanged. Putin’s overarching demand—a complete cessation of foreign military and intelligence support for Ukraine—would, if met, leave Kyiv vulnerable to Russian dominance. While Trump denied discussing aid with Putin, the Kremlin’s statement suggested otherwise, raising questions about the true nature of their discussions.
This development has heightened fears that Moscow is merely playing for time, anticipating that the U.S. may eventually disengage from Ukraine. The timing of this cease-fire agreement, coupled with Russia’s battlefield momentum and growing Western fatigue, suggests that Moscow might be maneuvering for a strategic advantage rather than pursuing genuine peace.
U.S. and Russian Diplomatic Calculations
Trump’s involvement in the negotiations signals a potential shift in U.S. policy. The former president has historically expressed skepticism toward Ukraine’s strategic importance, and his willingness to engage with Putin could indicate a broader recalibration of Washington’s stance. Russia, in turn, appears eager to leverage this opportunity to normalize relations with the U.S. without making significant concessions on Ukraine.
Moscow has already floated the prospect of economic cooperation with American firms, particularly in the rare earth metals and energy sectors. Additionally, discussions have included cultural engagements, such as a proposed U.S.-Russia hockey tournament—seemingly trivial, yet indicative of Russia’s broader attempt to reframe its relationship with Washington beyond the Ukraine conflict.
Implications for Ukraine and the Global Order
For Ukraine, the stakes remain high. While a temporary cessation of hostilities on energy infrastructure provides some relief, the country remains in a precarious position. The prospect of losing its principal backer, the U.S., could force Kyiv into unfavorable compromises that undermine its sovereignty.
For the broader international community, the Russia-Ukraine conflict continues to reflect a contest not only between two nations but between geopolitical blocs vying for influence. Russia seeks to restore its sphere of control, while the West struggles to maintain a unified front in supporting Ukraine. Meanwhile, the Islamic world, with its historical ties to both Russia and Ukraine, watches closely, balancing economic interests and diplomatic relations in a rapidly evolving global landscape.
While the 30-day cease-fire offers a temporary reprieve, it is far from a definitive step toward peace. The agreement highlights the ongoing complexities of diplomacy in wartime, the strategic calculations of global powers, and the uncertain future of Ukraine’s sovereignty. As negotiations continue, the world waits to see whether this pause will serve as a bridge to lasting peace or merely as a tactical interlude in a protracted conflict.
