After all the predictions, projections and polling permutations, Welsh Labour’s defeat has been confirmed.

In 1985, Welsh historian Gwyn Alf Williams described Labour majorities standing “like Aneurin Bevan’s memorial stones”. Forty years on, the stones have finally been eroded. On the worst day for the party in its history in Wales, even its leader, Eluned Morgan, lost her seat.

After more than a century as Wales’ dominant political force, the figures and symbols that once anchored Welsh Labour now lie broken.

The scale of the defeat is difficult to overstate. Losses in historic heartlands that have voted Labour consistently for more than a century represent a devastating indictment of a party that has long mistaken dominance for consent. This is not a routine electoral setback, but a collapse.

Short-term factors played their part. Welsh Labour’s decision to abandon its “standing up for Wales” rhetoric and attach itself to an unpopular Keir Starmer-led UK government led the party to surrender one of its strongest political identities.

Read more: Elections 2026: Experts react to the Reform surge and Labour losses

Furthermore, the short-lived, scandal-ridden leadership of Vaughan Gething, and an incumbency backlash among certain voters, contributed to Labour’s worst-ever Senedd result. But while these factors shaped the timing and scale of the loss, they cannot by themselves explain it.

This election marks a reckoning that has been coming for a while. After more than a century of political dominance, the myths and symbols that sustained Welsh Labour (and the idea that Labour is Wales, and Wales is Labour), have finally withered. The defeat reflects not simply a bad campaign or unpopular leaders, but a party that has run out of steam and ideas.

Since devolution, Welsh Labour has spoken the language of radical politics while failing to realise radical outcomes. Limited powers and constrained budgets are real obstacles, but they do not excuse the absence of political ambition from a party that has governed Wales uninterrupted for nearly three decades. Few parties in democratic systems have enjoyed such long-term dominance; Welsh Labour has failed to take advantage of it.

Longer-term decay

The electoral collapse reflects a deeper unwillingness to confront Wales’ long-term material decline. Across health, housing, education and the economy, rhetorical ambition has been undermined by narrow, managerial interventions. Child poverty remains entrenched, educational standards have declined and the NHS is under sustained pressure. Progressive language has failed to translate into material improvement.

In defending Wales against Tory austerity, Welsh Labour neglected the harder task of articulating what Wales could become and how devolved powers could be wielded effectively to improve people’s lives. The result has been a politics that speaks the language of progress while leaving the structures of inequality largely untouched.

Over time, this gap between promise and experience has eroded trust. In an era of weakening party attachment and fluid political identities, historical loyalty can no longer be relied upon. The continued invocation of figures such as Aneurin Bevan may still resonate within the party but beyond this, their power has faded. Nostalgia has become a liability, especially when it substitutes for critical reflection or ideological renewal. Welsh Labour came to mistake familiarity for consent.

The Senedd election result is not a rejection of progressive values, but of Labour’s symbolic performance of them. Many voters were not turning away from radical ambition when they voted for Plaid Cymru; they were seeking a party they believed could still embody it. Welsh politics has often been defined by its radical traditions – and progressive voters have put their faith in Plaid to inherit them.

One-party dominance insulated Welsh Labour from the pressures that force political renewal. When that dominance finally fractured, the party found itself unable to articulate an alternative sense of purpose.

The collapse, therefore, is not a sudden termination, but the culmination of a prolonged period of stagnation. The majorities once symbolised by Aneurin Bevan’s memorial stones have been gradually eroded, enduring for decades but now standing merely as reminders of a Labour legacy that no longer finds resonance in Wales.

Nye Davies does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

The 2026 elections are shaping up to be a seismic moment for politics in the UK. Across England’s local elections, Labour is facing up to a devastating result while Reform UK has picked up hundreds of seats. Throughout the day as results come in from across England, Scotland and Wales, our panel is providing context, analysis and expert insights.

Big wins for Reform, but can it deliver?

Alia Middleton, Senior Lecturer in Politics, University of Surrey

Reform UK’s surge in areas such as Newcastle-under-Lyme indicates that the party has sustained the support it started to gather in the Midlands and the north of England at the 2024 general election.

The party has rather uniquely demonstrated an ability to steer voters away from both Conservatives and Labour. Gaining councillors and nibbling away at Labour support in the party’s heartlands in Hartlepool and Burnley shows that Labour’s reclaiming of its red wall at the 2024 general election may only be a temporary reinstatement.

Alongside the collapse and prolonged recovery of the Conservatives, Reform seems to be harvesting the party’s votes – take Essex County Council, which Reform now controls, for example. This has been either under Conservative control or no overall control since 1974. In 2021, Reform UK barely registered, but today it has 42 councillors. Several members of the shadow cabinet – including Conservative leader Kemi Badenoch – have seats in Essex. But now Reform seems to be consolidating its support in the county.

One upcoming issue for Reform, however, is that voters will soon expect delivery. Reform has shown it can win votes in local elections but the more councillors it has, the more it needs to show that it can function not just as a campaign machine, but as a professional party that can keep its promises and deliver real results.

A new system – and a new order – in Wales

Stephen Clear, Lecturer in Constitutional and Administrative Law, Bangor University

It is hard to overstate the significance of the new electoral system for the Senedd. This election was not just about choosing politicians, but rather operating under a fundamentally different political structure. That difference was exemplified by Labour conceding, very early in the day, that after decades of dominance in Wales, it will not secure a victory this time.

And for the first time in the history of Welsh devolution, a first minister has been unseated in another devastating blow for Eluned Morgan and Labour.

The old mixed system, of 40 constituency seats elected by first-past-the-post plus 20 regional “top-up” seats (60 MSs in total), could produce something close to one-party dominance. Labour often emerged as the governing party even without a majority because its geographic concentration in South Wales translated efficiently into seats in the Senedd.

The new 96-seat structure, with all seats elected proportionally using multi-member constituencies, makes one-party dominance harder. Now parties get seat totals much closer to their actual vote share. It’s rarer to secure a seat for narrowly finishing ahead.

Practically, this means Wales is likely to be entering a multi-party bargaining era, or prominent coalitions, like other devolved nations and local European parliaments. Consequently, rather than headlines about who won, a more appropriate take in Wales may be “who can govern?”

Green wins can’t compete with Reform breakthroughs

Louise Thompson, Senior Lecturer in Politics, University of Manchester

This would be considered an exceptional electoral moment for the Greens in almost any other circumstances, but their wins pale in comparison to the huge gains made by Reform UK. It was still a good day for the party and shows how much the electorate is looking for alternatives to the two main parties. The Greens have continued the momentum they gained following Hannah Spencer’s success in the Gorton and Denton byelection.

The party’s first mayoral seats with Zoë Garbett in Hackney and Liam Shrivastava in Lewisham, plus its first ever constituency seat at Holyrood are a big step forward. The wins present a real opportunity for the Greens to show that they have moved on from being a small challenger party. They no longer need to focus on building credibility as an electoral option – they’ve shown that they can break through that barrier. The question now is whether they can gain people’s longer-term trust and deliver on their electoral promises.

Experience from their other councils like Brighton suggest that they may need to tighten their rein on their councillors to do this. Perhaps more importantly, results like those we’ve seen in Reading and Plymouth, where they have pushed Labour into second place in the popular vote, demonstrate that they are being seen as a credible alternative nationally to Labour on the left. Labour MPs in these areas are now sitting on very shaky foundations for the second half of this parliament.

Few big surprises emerge from Scotland’s ‘scunnered’ vote

Murray Leith, Professor of Political Science, University of the West of Scotland

In Scotland the polls seemed to be right. The SNP will be be the largest party but will not have a majority. We saw low turnout in many areas, although with some limited, high-turnout, hard-fought constituency battles. Holyrood continues to be a multi-party system with a dominant SNP, but there have been some areas of change.

Nothing shows this better than the Greens winning their first constituency seats (and beating former cabinet minister Angus Robertson into third place), the SNP taking the long-held Liberal Democrat stronghold of the Shetland Islands, and Labour taking Na h-Eileanan an Iar from the SNP. And then you have Reform UK, which has gained regional seats across Scotland. The rise of the Greens and Reform are not at the expense of the SNP, but of Labour and the Conservatives. But the SNP vote share is down too.

What does the result mean? Pundits are calling it the “scunnered” election, a Scottish word that can mean frustrated, irritated or exhausted. It seems suitable. So, what next, Scotland – more of the same? It is certainly a very mixed picture, with some change. Just no change in government.

From patchwork to pointillist painting

Tim Bale, Professor of Politics, Queen Mary, University of London

English local elections involve county, borough and district councils, as well as mayoralties. They take place in some parts of the country but not in others, and in some places all of the seats on a council are up for grabs, while in others it’s only a third.

No wonder, then, that one of the go-to clichés that politicians and pundits routinely reach for on a day like today is “patchwork”. Yet even that may not do justice to the complex reality now that we have entered the era of five- rather than two-party politics.

A better analogy now might be a pointillist painting – lots of coloured dots that resolve themselves into a complete scene as the picture gradually takes shape. Much of what we’ll see in the initial analysis – especially when it comes to those spinning party lines – will be a tale, to quote Shakespeare’s Macbeth, “told by an idiot, full of sound and fury. Signifying nothing.”

Once we know what the myriad contests fought on Thursday mean for the parties’ national vote shares, we’ll be better able to tell whether what we’ve seen in opinion polls was borne out at the ballot box. What I’ll be looking for in particular is whether Reform UK, for all that it has won a huge number of seats, has actually stalled slightly compared to last year, and whether Tory leader Kemi Badenoch’s much-hyped recent progress has made much difference to her party’s performance.

What next for Starmer and Labour?

Karl Pike, Senior Lecturer in Public Policy, Queen Mary, University of London

Keir Starmer is in a kind of lame duck political position – very few people think the prime minister will lead Labour into the next general election. His authority is gradually reducing, and losing these elections around the UK will reduce it further. On that, most people within the Labour party can agree. But they cannot agree on how to respond, and the options Labour MPs have for changing their leader are complicated.

Mayor of Greater Manchester Andy Burnham could win enough support within the parliamentary Labour party (PLP) to challenge Starmer. Or he could succeed Starmer if he stepped aside, and win a majority of Labour members and affiliated supporters in the event of a contest. But the Burnham option requires some choreography that could be disrupted. Burnham is not an MP, and could still be blocked from standing by Labour’s national executive committee. Any Labour leadership contest would have to follow a successful byelection victory for Labour and for Burnham.

Angela Rayner continues to be popular in the party, but there are lingering doubts after her exit from government over her tax affairs. Wes Streeting could probably only become leader if the PLP opted to nominate just one politician, removing the need for a contest. If any candidate from the PLP’s “soft-left” stood against Streeting, I think Streeting would struggle to win.

So the who, when and how all remain up in the air. Meanwhile, the UK government has important jobs to do, all of which require people to focus on governing, rather than party management. It is not clear that the PLP has a majority view on what a different government direction should look like.

I cannot predict what will happen next. It seems unlikely that Starmer can continue to lead Labour into next year and beyond. But much of the discussion around a change of leadership seems to involve a political high-wire act. This is why, for some time now, Labour MPs have been unhappy – but unsure of what to do about it.

The death of two-party politics? Tactical voting means we can’t say that for certain

Thomas Lockwood, PhD Candidate in Politics, York St John University

Early results from England’s local elections might suggest increasing fragmentation in the party system, but “five-party politics” is better understood as an emerging pattern than a settled reality. What stands out most is not a clean realignment, but continued tactical voting and localised switching. Voters are choosing between multiple viable parties depending on context. This might be, for example, prioritising immigration and national discontent in red wall towns, or focusing on environmental concerns and housing in urban and university areas, rather than shifting permanently between fixed blocs.

For the first time in nearly 50 years, Labour has lost Tameside Council in Greater Manchester, which has fallen to no overall control. This is significant as it’s the council area for the constituency of Labour’s former deputy leader Angela Rayner.

On its own, it’s not a seat-threatening result for the next general election, but it is a serious long-term warning sign for Labour’s heartlands. Combined with the wider picture of Reform gaining hundreds of councillors, it shows that the “disrupter” dynamic is structural, not fleeting. But whether these localised surges harden into a durable five-party system, or remain heavily shaped by tactical voting and specific local contexts, will only become clearer in time.

So far, however, Reform will be feeling very encouraged by the state of play.

The turnout story – a win for democracy

Hannah Bunting, Senior Lecturer in Quantitative British Politics, University of Exeter

A really interesting trend in the English local elections is one that is positive for democracy. Turnout appears to have been noticeably higher, possibly by up to eight points on average overall and doubling in some areas. Although Reform is winning in the lowest-turnout areas, reflective of the geography and demographics they are targeting, wards where Reform are winning saw the biggest increases in turnout.

This indicates that Reform is motivating supporters who don’t usually cast a ballot in local elections – however the increase might also be due to an anti-Reform vote. Either way, it appears voters’ lack of participation in recent years was partly because they did not feel that had something to vote for (or against). For some, that has now changed.

It looks to be the opposite story for turnout in Scotland. Coming from a high in 2021, average turnout fell. This may be a further sign of the SNP’s unpopularity, or a sophisticated electorate who understand how their voting system works. It was clear that the incumbent party was going to win, but with reduced enthusiasm from voters. Both are reasons to stay home – with neither jeopardy nor positivity as motivation.

Bad news for female representation?

Ceri Fowler, Career Development Fellow in Comparative Politics, University of Oxford

These results suggest that women’s representation in local government will decline. Research undertaken before the election showed that the proportion of women and non-binary candidates varied substantially by party. Overall, around 31% of candidates at this election were women or non-binary, but for the Greens and Labour this is more than 40%. For Reform UK, only 23% of its candidates are women or non-binary.

The success of Reform at this set of local elections, and the decline of Labour, therefore means that even fewer women are likely to be in local government than there were before. If Reform also sees similar success in Wales and Scotland, there may be fewer women in the devolved parliaments too. This is the opposite of the 2024 general election, where the success of Labour led to historic highs in women’s representation. These results show, yet again, how women’s representation is conditional on the success of left-leaning parties.

The Conversation’s coverage of elections in England, Scotland and Wales is being updated throughout the day.

Karl Pike has received funding from the Economic and Social Research Council. He is a member of the Labour Party and before becoming an academic was a political advisor for the Labour Party.

Murray Leith has previously received funding from the European Union and the Scottish Government. He is a member of the Electoral Reform Society.

Alia Middleton, Ceri Fowler, Hannah Bunting, Louise Thompson, Stephen Clear, Thomas Lockwood, and Tim Bale do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Reform UK is expected to expand its foothold in local government in England this week. More than 5,000 seats across 136 councils are being contested, making this one of the largest electoral tests in recent years. It builds on Reform’s breakthrough in 2025, when the party took control of ten local authorities – its first real experience of power.

For scholars of populism, this moment could be revealing. Years of research have focused heavily on the rhetoric of populism, its voter base, and the interaction between the two.

But far less attention has been paid to what populists actually do once in office. Where such research exists, it tends to focus on national governments, with only a small body examining local politics. Local government, however, is where political promises get a quick reality check.

The gap between Reform’s “pro-workers” rhetoric and its party elite’s relatively privileged and pro-business backgrounds has been noted. But the party’s first year in local government provides an opportunity to see whether the social groups it claims to represent also tend to benefit from its exercise of power.

While systematic data on the Reform-led councils is yet to be collected, their track record so far has revealed signs of where this party’s interests might lie – and of what a UK government led by Reform might look like.

Energy: big donors or local interests?

According to a recent report, climate commitments have been scaled back across Reform-run councils. Net-zero targets have been scrapped and climate language removed from policy documents. These decisions align with the party’s broader critique of climate policy as economically burdensome.

It also aligns with the party’s fossil fuel donors, who account for more than two-thirds of Reform’s financial backing. However, it does not necessarily align with the interests of the communities in the councils that it runs.

A good case in point is fracking. Despite its well-known risks to water and air quality, as well as concerns over earthquakes and warming effects, Reform’s leadership has endorsed fracking. The party has pledged to legalise it if it comes into government.

The country, however, is not as keen. According to the most recent polling, only 28% of people in Britain support fracking, compared to 46% opposing it. A survey last year found that nothing puts off Reform supporters more than the party’s ties to the fossil fuel industry. Farmers – 40% of whom now support Reform – have a longstanding scepticism about fracking due to its potential impact on their crops.

In fact, in two other Reform council areas – Lancashire and Scarborough, local representatives have broken from the national party line on fracking. This reflects a broader tension between the interests of its elite backers and those of its popular base.

Social care: when ‘populism’ meets the welfare state

Those contradictions also become visible in the field of social care. In Derbyshire, the Reform-led council’s plan to shut eight care homes was called a “betrayal of local people”. Similar plans in Lancashire entailed the closure of five public care homes as well as five day centres, with residents moved to the private sector.

What is striking is not just the direction of policy, but also the political reaction to it. The privatisation plans in Lancashire were eventually abandoned due to strong local opposition, which came not only from rival parties, but also from Reform grassroots members.

This underlines an insight often missing from populism research: the category of “ordinary people” is not a unified social group. It also indicates the unpopularity of an economic agenda that, with its emphasis on further deregulation, privatisation and tax cuts, might seem to be Thatcherism’s unfinished business.

Taxation: from promises to practice

Reform’s neoliberal outlook on the economy is reflected in the range of tax cuts pledged in its 2024 manifesto. Ahead of the local elections last year, several Reform candidates reiterated these pledges, vowing either to freeze or cut council tax.

The opposite has happened, though. As reported recently, nine Reform councils raised Band D council tax for 2026-27 by an average of 3.94%. And while that was lower than the overall average increase of 4.86%, it shows that – when confronted with budgetary constraints – Reform is willing to follow the same fiscal patterns as other mainstream parties. In other words, by increasing what is ultimately a regressive tax that disproportionately affects poorer households.

This dynamic echoes once again the discrepancy between the party’s “populist” image and its neoliberal, austerity-prone policy agenda.

Reform’s track record in these areas of policymaking points to a broader conclusion. Much of the existing literature treats populism primarily as a discursive phenomenon – a way of framing politics in terms of “the people” versus “the elite”.

But Reform’s experience in local government shows that its actual politics might in fact tilt towards the interest of the latter. This is precisely where current research remains scant.

On the eve of a new round of local elections, Reform is likely to extend its presence across councils in England. But its first year in power already suggests that “the people” it claims to represent are not necessarily the same people who benefit from its rise to power.

Vladimir Bortun does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

The precarious security situation in Mali took a turn for the worse in late April 2026. Well coordinated attacks targeted several cities and claimed the lives of the defence minister, Sadio Camara, and several Malian soldiers.

The events are a culmination of increased attacks over the past few years on the military and state institutions in Mali.

We have been researching insecurity and politics in west Africa and the Sahel for over a decade. We believe the recent attacks trace back to grievances expressed by Tuaregs that the current military regime has not addressed. The Tuaregs are nomadic Berber communities in northern Mali.

First is the inability or unwillingness to address Tuareg discontent. Their grievances centre on political autonomy, marginalisation, cultural recognition, resource control, security and perceived state neglect.

Second, the continuous use of force by the military against rebels in the northern regions without regard for the collateral damage. The Tuaregs have long contested the militarisation policies of successive Malian governments.

Third, the uneven distribution of resources, which keeps the northern region marginalised. These include northern Mali’s resources such as gold deposits, salt mines, grazing lands, and strategic trade corridors. Revenues from these sources remain controlled by the state’s centre based in the south.

Addressing resource marginalisation could have a number of benefits. It could temper Tuareg grievances, restore trust in the Malian state, and shift conflict incentives away from rebellion towards political inclusion, stability, and sustainable peace in northern Mali.

The breakdown

In April 2026 the jihadist group Jama’at Nusrat al-Islam wal-Muslimin (JNIM) joined forces with ethnic Tuareg rebels from the northern Azawad Liberation Front (FLA) to attack several cities in the country recently.

This mirrors a similar attack in 2012 when the Tuareg and al-Qaeda-affiliated militants launched an offensive against the state. The Tuareg-dominated National Movement for the Liberation of Azawad (MNLA) attempted to secede and initiated a rebellion.

The MNLA is a Tuareg‑dominated separatist movement. Founded in 2011, it is mainly composed of ex-Libyan war returnees and northern Malian Tuaregs. The organisation had about 10,000 fighters at its peak in 2012.

Despite their numbers, they lacked the military power to hold the territory. As a result they aligned with Islamists Ansar Dine, al-Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb (AQIM), and the Movement for Unity and Jihad in West Africa (MUJAO). Shortly after pushing back Malian forces in late 2012, the alliance disintegrated.

The Islamist groups were better armed and funded. They forced the secular separatists out of major towns like Gao, Timbuktu and Kidal. The intervention of French forces in 2013 helped the Malian government regain most of the lost territories.

AQIM and its allies then moved into the mountains and surrounding desert areas. They shifted to guerrilla tactics, including suicide bombings and landmines.

The withdrawal of French forces in 2022 seems to have emboldened the Islamist militants. It removed counter‑terrorism pressure, disrupted intelligence and logistics and created a security vacuum amid weak Malian state capacity. This allowed Islamist groups to expand operations, recruit locally and regain territorial influence.

Lessons unlearnt

The largely popular military regime of Assimi Goita has failed to address the demands of Tuareg separatists. The Tuaregs have historically complained about exclusion from power by the southern dominated Malian state. Since the country’s independence in 1960, Tuareg leaders have argued that the structure of the Malian state does not reflect their political identity, economic interests and governance traditions. The demand for self-rule or autonomy has been suppressed, often by force.

More recently, increased drought, desertification and climate variability has devastated Tuareg pastoral livelihoods. These grievances pre-date Islamic insurgency and are fundamental in understanding the approach of the group.

The second unaddressed issue is that counterterrorism operations use force which creates collateral damage. Recent analysis shows that counterterrorism operations in northern and central Mali have resulted in large scale civilian harm, displacement and collective punishments. These have included arbitrary arrests and mass killings.

These factors have created conditions which Islamist groups have exploited for recruitment, territorial control and legitimacy.

The blame for this has been put on successive Malian regimes and previous French operations. This has been a key reason for France’s interventions being labelled as failures.

The third major driver of violence in Mali relates to the uneven distribution of resources. Since independence, public investment, infrastructure, social services and political attention have been heavily concentrated in the southern parts of the country.

Previous peace agreements have promised decentralisation, funding and integration of northern elites and ex-combatants. But implementation have been slow or nonexistent.

Is there a way forward?

The Tuareg question must be answered to reduce the tension between the regions of the country. It can be argued that Tuareg actors have twice miscalculated by entering arrangements with jihadist groups. But this does not diminish the need to address the structural inequalities and long-standing grievances underpinning Tuareg demands.

To achieve this, the Malian regime can copy the blueprint of former president Mahamadou Issoufou of Niger. Prior to his presidency, the Nigerien Tuaregs were similarly aggrieved. When he became president in 2011, he:

• integrated Tuareg elites and former rebels into state institutions

• decentralised state authority by allowing administrative and budgetary control at the regional level

• introduced disarmament, demobilisation and reintegration programmes.

Issoufou also invested in infrastructural development in the areas that directly affected the Tuaregs. This included pastoralism, education and livelihood support. Water access in arid pastoral areas was improved. And connectivity and road safety was expanded.

Addressing the Tuareg agitations would reduce tensions in Mali.

The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Municipal elections in the occupied West Bank and in the central Gaza city of Deir al-Balah on April 25 have been quickly framed by Fatah, the dominant faction within the Palestinian Authority (PA), as a sweeping victory.

But it’s worth taking a closer look at how the election was organised. Candidates were required to commit to the political programme of the Palestine Liberation Organisation (PLO), which which includes the recognition of Israel, the renunciation of terrorism and the pursuit of a two-state solution. It was a condition that was widely seen as effectively excluding Hamas, which does not support these policies.

Hamas – which is understood to be preparing to hold elections for its leadership, which has been decimated during the 30-month conflict in Gaza – did not field candidates. A number of other groups, including the People’s Front for the Liberation of Palestine, the Democratic Front for the Liberation of Palestine, the Palestine People’s Party, FIDA, and Palestinian National Initiative, also opted not to field candidates in the election.

It’s important, when looking at the turnout and results, to bear this in mind. In the West Bank, turnout reached around 56%, but Fatah-affiliated lists were elected unopposed in 197 councils, roughly half of all municipalities in this round.

In the Gaza Strip, voting took place only in the central city of Deir al-Balah. Here, turnout was significantly lower, at around 23%, reflecting the mass displacement, incomplete voter registries and widespread loss of life. The Fatah-backed list won six of 15 seats. A list widely seen as aligned with Hamas secured two seats, with the remainder going to non-affiliated groups.

For the Fatah-dominated Palestinian Authority, these municipal elections serve several purposes. They are presented as a way to reaffirm a political link between the West Bank and Gaza, and to signal a continued role in Gaza’s future governance. They also offer a platform promising reforms to the watching world at a moment when the PA faces pressure to demonstrate political legitimacy.

Read more: Council elections take place for some Palestinians – but continuing mass displacement makes Gaza poll farcical

While regular municipal elections have been held in the West Bank, presidential and legislative elections have not been held since 2005 and 2006. In the intervening two decades, concerns over the concentration of power under Fatah leader Mahmoud Abbas have intensified. In this context, the municipal elections represented a lower-stakes form of participation. It was a way to show electoral activity without reopening the broader question of national leadership.

Rather than a clear mandate, the results point to a constrained political landscape, shaped as much by exclusion and limited participation as by electoral competition. What these elections will change on the ground is unclear, particularly in Gaza, which remains stricken by 30 months of war.

Gaza in ruins

According to the UN, over 1.9 million people – between 80% and 90% of Gaza’s population – are displaced – six months into what is supposed to be a ceasefire. Families live in damaged homes, tents or overcrowded shelters, without reliable access to clean water, electricity, food or healthcare.

According to the World Health Organization, only 19 of Gaza’s 36 hospitals function even partially and nearly half of essential medicines have run out. Conditions in displacement sites are deteriorating. Around 81% of sites show signs of rodents or pests, affecting 1.45 million people and increasing public health risks.

A recent joint World Bank–EU–UN assessment estimates that the recovery and reconstruction of the Gaza Strip will cost more than US$70 billion (£52 billion). The restoration of housing alone accounts for US$18 billion in damage, while more than 68 million tonnes of debris will need to be removed before rebuilding can begin.

But reconstruction depends on access to materials, land and infrastructure and Israel continues to control all of these. Israeli authorities control the entry of aid into Gaza, funnel deliveries through a single crossing, impose inspection regimes that delay or halt shipments, and close crossings altogether. Aid entering Gaza fell by 37% in the three months to April 2026, as raids and other ceasefire violations continue.

Reconstruction without Palestinians

While the people of Gaza remain in these conditions, outsiders are moving ahead with plans to shape Gaza’s future. In November 2025, the UN Security Council endorsed resolution 2803, backing a US-led initiative known as the Board of Peace to oversee the territory. When it first met on February 19, the Board of Peace pledged around US$17 billion – including US$10 billion from the US and additional commitments from Gulf states such as the UAE, Qatar, Saudi Arabia and Kuwait.

Palestinians have no representatives on the Board of Peace, which is chaired by the US president Donald Trump, who also sets the agenda and calls meetings. Israel, however, does, as do Trump’s most prominent envoys, Jared Kushner and Steven Witkoff, who both have considerable business and real estate interests in the Middle East.

Palestinian civil society organisations have warned that the Board of Peace excludes Palestinians from meaningful decision-making and undermines their right to self-determination. European governments have also raised concerns about the concentration of authority in the hands of the US president and the lack of oversight.

Control over funding is also taking shape. The Gaza Reconstruction and Development (Grad) fund is structured as a World Bank Financial Intermediary Fund, with the bank acting as “limited trustee”. In practice, this means the World Bank manages donor money but has no say in how the money is spent. But World Bank president Ajay Banga also sits on the Board of Peace executive board, placing the institution inside the political structure that sets priorities.

In documents related to the Grad, the World Bank describes this moment as an opportunity to “fundamentally reshape” Gaza’s economy through private investment. The vision, as has been widely covered in the media, is to transform Gaza into a “hub” in the Imec development corridor that links India to the Middle East and beyond. The rebuilt Gaza would include a major port, high-tech industrial development, data centres and tourism resorts. Little provision has been made for the restoration of Palestinian homes, healthcare or water and power infrastructure.

Read more: Donald Trump’s vision for Gaza’s future: what a leaked plan tells us about US regional strategy

Recent discussions with the Dubai-based port operator and logistics company DP World appear to highlight Board of Peace priorities. In April 2026, representatives linked to the board explored bringing the company in to manage key parts of Gaza’s supply chains, including warehousing, tracking systems and the movement of both humanitarian and commercial goods.

The talks also included proposals for a new port in Gaza or on the Egyptian coast, as well as a free-trade zone. It’s a plan for market-led development in its most concentrated form, which envisages the reconstruction of Gaza to serve regional and global economic interests. It reflects external priorities, not the needs on the ground in Gaza.

Rafeef Ziadah does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Earlier this month, multibillion-dollar US tech company Palantir posted on X a summary of its chief executive Alex Karp’s recent book, the portentously titled The Technological Republic: Hard Power, Soft Belief, and the Future of the West.

The book and the post offer a kind of manifesto, making sweeping claims about a hierarchy of civilisations, the rejection of pluralism, Silicon Valley’s moral obligation to US military power, the necessity of AI-powered weapons, and the case for compulsory military service.

The manifesto has met widespread criticism. Some commentators have compared the rhetoric to the monologue of a comic-book villain: grand, moralising, tinged with a sense of historical destiny.

But the manifesto is more than just corporate posturing: it’s helping to construct a new geopolitical reality and normalise a worldview that concentrates power beyond democratic accountability.

From tools to worldviews

For the past two decades, large technology firms have mostly presented themselves as benevolent service providers. They build tools; governments and users decide what to do with them.

That distinction has always been convenient, but it is looking less and less tenable. For some, Karp’s manifesto offered a grim sense of confirmation of the change. As Austrian philosopher Mark Coeckelbergh put it, “reading it is like opening a food item that you suspected has gone off, but you didn’t know it was that much off”.

Palantir is not just any tech company. Its software, offering “AI-powered automation for every decision”, is embedded in military, intelligence and policing systems – not just in the United States, but in many other countries across Europe, the Middle East and Australia.

When a company in that position denounces “regressive” cultures and “hollow” pluralism, it is asserting a worldview rather than just selling technology.

As the manifesto puts it: “the ability of free and democratic societies to prevail requires something more than moral appeal. It requires hard power.” Here, “hard power” means not just military force but the technological systems that shape how force is used.

Palantir’s systems shape how threats are identified, interpreted and acted upon. So when the company advances claims about civilisational decline and the necessity of strength, it is also helping define the terms on which power is exercised.

A stakeholder letter or something older?

In one view, the manifesto is a corporate position paper or a statement of values aimed at investors, partners, the public and policymakers. But there is something older in its form.

It is reminiscent of Cicero, the Roman statesman and master of rhetoric, in its talk of decline, virtue, duty and the survival of the republic. It frames technological development not as a market activity but as a moral obligation tied to the fate of civilisation.

Like classical republican oratory, it asserts that survival depends on strength. And today, that strength is technological.

Cicero wasn’t simply expressing his own opinions when he spoke. He was asserting a right to speak on behalf of the republic. In the same way, Palantir is positioning itself as a legitimate interpreter of civilisational stakes.

The shift from argument to atmosphere

The manifesto does not argue via carefully reasoned policy claims. Instead it offers declarative statements: that some cultures are “harmful”, that pluralism has become “vacant”, that technological strength is the ultimate guarantor of civilisation. These establish a mood: urgency, decline, necessity.

The effect is to manufacture a sense of inevitability. It works via tone and framing rather than evidence, setting the background conditions under which certain policies feel necessary rather than debatable.

Once that atmosphere is in place, the range of acceptable responses shrinks. Palantir is helping to construct geopolitical realities, rather than respond to them.

Supervillain or Cicero? It’s both

Palantir’s rhetoric does bear comparison to the ranting of fictional supervillains. Both feature sweeping claims about decline and the need for decisive action.

Palantir also exempts itself from the accountability that might accompany its claims. Comic-book villains believe they see more clearly than others, but they also place themselves above constraints that apply to everyone else.

The structure of the argument feels familiar. The world is in crisis, the options are narrowing, and power must be expanded beyond normal limits.

Seen this way, the villain tone and the Cicero-like register are two expressions of the same underlying move. It is an effort to define reality at a civilisational scale, from a position that answers to no one.

An infrastructure project

This worldview did not emerge overnight. It has been developed over years through op-eds in prestige newspapers and published by major mainstream houses before being compressed into a social media thread that reached millions in hours.

When companies that build and operate core security technologies put considerable resources into developing and promoting stories about civilisation and its future, their language is not just expression. It is a kind of infrastructure for their actions in the real world.

By the time most people notice the rhetoric, the infrastructure it justifies is already in place.

But the future trajectory of this worldview is not set. The history of democratic politics is, in part, a history of people recognising when power has overreached and building the collective capacity to say so.

That work is not heroic in the comic-book sense. It doesn’t focus on a single figure or decisive moment. It starts with understanding precisely how the manufacture of inevitability works, so what is presented as necessary can be seen as a choice – before it is made for us.

Daniel Baldino does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.