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When historians thumb through the annals of the early 21st century, 2025 will stand out—not for a single cataclysmic event, but for the way disparate forces converged to accelerate transformations already underway. It was the year artificial intelligence moved from boardroom buzzword to economic driver, when climate records tumbled with disturbing regularity, and when geopolitical fault lines cracked open in ways that will shape international relations for decades.
I’ve covered politics and global affairs for two decades, but few years have felt as consequent as this one. From my perch watching these events unfold, 2025 revealed something fundamental: the post-Cold War order isn’t gradually evolving—it’s being actively dismantled and rebuilt, often simultaneously, by forces ranging from Silicon Valley boardrooms to Kathmandu’s streets.
If 2023 introduced the world to generative AI’s possibilities, 2025 was the year it became undeniable infrastructure. The numbers tell a staggering story: global AI spending reached approximately $1.5 trillion this year, according to Gartner projections, while private investment in AI companies surged to $202.3 billion—a 75% increase from 2024.
The United States dominated this landscape with almost imperial confidence. U.S. private AI investment hit $109.1 billion in 2024 data, nearly twelve times China’s $9.3 billion. The San Francisco Bay Area alone captured $122 billion in AI funding this year—more than three-quarters of U.S. investment. When President Trump announced the $500 billion “Stargate” project with OpenAI, SoftBank, and Oracle, it wasn’t just industrial policy; it was a declaration that whoever controls AI’s commanding heights will shape the global economy.
But this gold rush came with costs that extend beyond quarterly earnings. Business usage of AI jumped from 55% of organizations in 2023 to 78% in 2024, and that acceleration continued through 2025. Yet as JP Morgan economists noted, AI-related capital expenditures contributed 1.1% to GDP growth in the first half of 2025—actually outpacing consumer spending as an engine of expansion.
The human toll proved harder to quantify. Companies increasingly cited AI adoption when announcing mass layoffs. The technology stands accused of fueling misinformation campaigns, faces mushrooming copyright lawsuits, and has sparked fears of a speculative bubble reminiscent of the 1990s dot-com crash. China’s DeepSeek R1 demonstrated that the computing gap between Beijing and Silicon Valley is narrowing faster than many anticipated, adding geopolitical urgency to what was already an economic arms race.
By year’s end, 88% of organizations reported regular AI use—but most had yet to embed these tools deeply enough to realize material benefits. The promise of transformation remains largely that: a promise, expensive and unproven at scale.
Donald Trump’s return to the White House on January 20 marked more than a political restoration. At 78, he became the oldest person to win the presidency and only the second to serve non-consecutive terms. But age and precedent mattered less than the velocity of change he unleashed.
Within hours of taking office, Trump signed executive orders withdrawing from the World Health Organization and the Paris Climate Agreement, initiated what he termed “mass deportations” of undocumented immigrants, and set in motion the dismantling of diversity and inclusion programs across the federal government. The National Guard deployed to Democratic-voting cities. Media outlets faced presidential intimidation. The administrative state found itself under systematic assault.
Yet Trump’s most consequential policy lever proved to be the one Alexander Hamilton championed in the Federalist Papers: tariffs. What began as campaign rhetoric evolved into the most aggressive trade policy since the Great Depression. The administration imposed a minimum 10% tariff on all trading partners, with China facing rates reaching 60%, and specific sectors like steel, aluminum, semiconductors, and pharmaceuticals hit with targeted increases.
The economic impact unfolded like a slow-motion collision. The Tax Foundation calculated that Trump’s imposed tariffs would raise $2.1 trillion over a decade while reducing GDP by 0.5%—and that’s before accounting for foreign retaliation. Penn Wharton’s Budget Model projected even grimmer consequences: an 8% GDP reduction and 7% wage decline, costing a middle-income household approximately $58,000 over their lifetime.
Real-world effects arrived swiftly. The U.S. economy actually contracted at an annual rate of 0.6% in early 2025 as businesses braced for the tariff onslaught. Brazilian coffee exports to the United States fell by 32.2% after facing 50% tariffs. Switzerland’s economy shrank in the third quarter at the fastest rate since the pandemic. By November, only 36% of Americans approved of Trump’s economic stewardship—his worst mark in six years of polling.
The tariffs raised $30 billion monthly by August, but revenue projections kept declining as economists factored in reduced trade volumes, foreign retaliation, and slower economic growth. What Trump positioned as economic nationalism increasingly resembled fiscal folly: the largest tax increase as a percentage of GDP since 1993, implemented to fund tax cuts that benefited primarily the wealthy while raising consumer prices for everyone else.
While politicians debated policy, the planet delivered its verdict. Data from multiple scientific agencies confirmed 2025 as either the second or third warmest year on record, with global average temperatures running 1.42°C above pre-industrial levels through August. More ominously, the three-year average for 2023-2025 exceeded 1.5°C for the first time—the threshold scientists had long warned against breaching.
The past eleven years, from 2015 to 2025, now constitute the eleven warmest in the 176-year observational record. Arctic sea ice extent after winter freeze reached the lowest level ever recorded. Ocean heat content hit new records. And approximately 7% of Earth’s surface experienced record warming in just the first six months of the year.
These weren’t abstract statistics. The Los Angeles wildfires that erupted January 7 burned for a month, destroying more than 16,000 structures and killing 30 people. With costs estimated between $76 billion and $131 billion, it became one of the costliest disasters in U.S. history. Typhoon Kalmaegi killed more than 200 people across the Philippines, Vietnam, and Thailand in November. Catastrophic flooding in Southeast Asia claimed over 1,700 lives when tropical cyclones struck in late November, demonstrating how climate change intensifies the water cycle—for every degree Celsius of warming, air holds 7% more moisture.
The World Meteorological Organization projected that without dramatic emission reductions, multi-decadal global temperatures will at least temporarily exceed 1.5°C within the next decade. UN Environment Programme modeling found the world now heading toward 1.8°C warming before potentially falling back below 1.5°C before century’s end—but only if nations implement aggressive mitigation policies they’ve mostly failed to enact.
“Each year above 1.5 degrees will hammer economies, deepen inequalities and inflict irreversible damage,” WMO Secretary-General Celeste Saulo warned. Yet greenhouse gas concentrations continued rising throughout 2025, and the gap between climate commitments and climate action grew wider, not narrower.
Few conflicts commanded global attention like the Gaza war, which entered its third year before President Trump brokered a ceasefire that went into effect October 10. The numbers behind the agreement were staggering and tragic: the war had killed at least 67,869 Palestinians according to Gaza’s Health Ministry, following the Hamas-led attack on October 7, 2023, that killed 1,144 Israelis.
Trump’s 20-point peace plan, announced September 29, required Hamas to release all living hostages and hand over deceased hostages’ remains within 72 hours of Israeli forces withdrawing to designated “yellow lines” within Gaza. Israel agreed to release 2,000 Palestinian prisoners, including 250 serving life sentences. On October 13, all 20 remaining living Israeli hostages walked free.
But if the ceasefire formally ended the war, it did little to resolve the underlying conflicts. According to Gaza’s Government Media Office, Israel violated the ceasefire at least 875 times between October 10 and December 22—through shootings, raids, bombings, and property demolitions. Since the ceasefire began, Israeli attacks killed at least 406 Palestinians and injured 1,118 more.
The deadliest incident occurred October 29, when Israel killed 104 people, including 46 children, after accusing Hamas of ceasefire violations. Trump defended the strikes from Air Force One, saying Israel “should hit back” and warning that Hamas would be “terminated” if they didn’t “behave.”
The peace plan’s subsequent phases remain mired in fundamental disagreements. Israel refuses to allow a Palestinian state. Hamas refuses to disarm. The UN Security Council approved a U.S. resolution on November 17 establishing an International Stabilization Force for Gaza and calling for the Palestinian Authority to assume governance by 2027, but implementation faces massive obstacles. The World Bank estimates Gaza reconstruction will cost more than $70 billion—and no one has explained where that funding will come from.
September 8 marked the beginning of the most dramatic Gen Z protest of 2025: thousands of students in Nepal took to the streets to oppose the government’s sweeping social media ban. The uprising created vivid images—protesters hanging a Jolly Roger flag from the manga One Piece on gates as the Singha Durbar government complex burned behind them. By the time the demonstrations subsided, at least 22 people were dead, hundreds were injured, and Prime Minister K.P. Sharma Oli had resigned.
Nepal’s revolt formed part of a broader pattern. From Morocco to Indonesia, young people under 30 led mass movements against poor living standards, social media censorship, and elite corruption. Australia implemented a social media ban for those under 16 on December 10, applying to YouTube, Facebook, Instagram, X, and TikTok. India’s government grappled with youth protests over economic opportunities. In Morocco, the government promised social reforms but then prosecuted more than 2,000 demonstrators.
These movements enjoyed mixed success, but they revealed something significant: a generation that came of age during global financial crisis, pandemic lockdowns, and climate anxiety refuses to accept the world older generations are handing them. They’re digitally native, globally connected, and increasingly willing to risk state violence to demand change.
The war in Ukraine ground through its fourth year with punishing arithmetic. Russia lost roughly 1,000 soldiers daily, according to estimates, yet increased its control of Ukrainian territory by less than 1% throughout 2025. Those meager gains came at costs that strain comprehension—both in lives and treasure.
Russia intensified its missile and drone campaigns, repeatedly striking Ukrainian cities and causing heavy civilian casualties. In March, Russian forces reclaimed Kursk province, which Ukraine had seized in a surprise invasion the previous August. Ukraine stunned observers in June with Operation Spiderweb—a covert drone strike deep into Russia that hit five air bases. Yet the attack failed to change the war’s basic dynamics.
President Trump’s approach oscillated between engagement and confrontation. In February, he berated President Zelensky in the Oval Office, accusing him of risking World War III. An August summit with Putin in Alaska ended early, with Washington accusing Moscow of not being serious about peace. Trump later imposed his first major sanctions package on Russia. By November, international negotiations based on a draft U.S. plan commenced, though Kyiv and European allies initially considered the proposal largely favorable to Moscow.
Experts continue debating how long both sides can sustain the conflict, but most agree Ukraine’s position looks increasingly precarious. The EU approved a €90 billion loan for Ukraine over two years, structured so Kyiv only repays once Russia pays reparations—a condition that acknowledges peace remains distant and uncertain.
December 14 brought Australia’s deadliest terrorist incident in history when a father and son opened fire on a Hanukkah celebration at Sydney’s Bondi Beach, killing 15 people and injuring more than 40. Police fatally shot one gunman; both were said to be motivated by Islamic State ideology.
The attack shook a nation that had implemented some of the world’s strictest gun laws following the 1996 Port Arthur massacre. It raised uncomfortable questions about radicalization, security screening, and whether bureaucratic delays in gun licensing contributed to the tragedy. An Australian state leader later revealed the main suspect faced lengthy delays in obtaining a gun license due to administrative backlogs, not suspicion.
The massacre also highlighted the persistent threat of ISIS-inspired violence even as the Islamic State’s territorial caliphate had collapsed years earlier. The ideology proved more durable than the territory, capable of inspiring attacks from New Orleans (where a man inspired by ISIS drove into crowds on New Year’s Day, killing multiple people) to Sydney’s beaches.
On May 8, the College of Cardinals elected Cardinal Robert Prevost as Pope Leo XIV, making him the first American pontiff in Catholic Church history. The Chicago-born clergyman, who spent nearly 20 years as a missionary in Peru and obtained citizenship there, took the papal name Leo XIV at age 69.
Pope Leo XIV inherited a church grappling with declining attendance in the Global North, clergy abuse scandals, and questions about its relevance to younger generations. His predecessor, Pope Francis, had died April 21 at age 88 after hospitalization for respiratory issues. Francis had been canonized for his focus on the poor, migrants, and the environment—causes Leo XIV signaled he would continue.
Yet the new pope also offered reassurances to conservative circles by ruling out, at least in the short term, the ordination of women as deacons and recognition of same-sex marriage. This balancing act—progressive on economic justice and climate, traditional on doctrine and gender roles—will define his papacy and likely determine whether the Church can retain influence as secularization accelerates across developed nations.
Carlo Acutis, who died at age 15 from leukemia, was canonized on September 7, becoming widely venerated as “the first millennial saint” and “the patron saint of the Internet” for his interest in using digital communication to teach others. His canonization reflected the Church’s attempt to remain relevant in an increasingly digital age.
The year delivered a mixed verdict on democratic governance. In New York City, Zohran Mamdani, a self-described democratic socialist, won the mayoral race on November 4, defeating better-known candidates with promises to make the city more affordable. India won its first Women’s Cricket World Cup on November 2, a cultural milestone in a nation where women’s sports traditionally received little support or recognition.
But democratic backsliding accelerated elsewhere. Charlie Kirk, the conservative activist and Trump ally who founded Turning Point USA, was assassinated on September 10 while speaking at Utah Valley University. His killing sent shockwaves through American political movements on both left and right, raising fears of escalating political violence.
Elections across Europe and Asia revealed voters’ discontent with incumbent governments yet offered few clear alternatives. Czech elections on October 3-4 saw former Prime Minister Andrej Babiš win a plurality but fail to reach a majority. Bulgaria’s government resigned in December following major protests, extending a political crisis that began in 2021. Chile elected José Antonio Kast as president, marking a rightward shift in a nation that had recently elected progressive leaders.
The pattern suggested voters everywhere wanted change but disagreed fundamentally about what kind. Populism continued gaining ground, traditional parties fragmented, and the center struggled to hold.
Not everything in 2025 spoke to crisis. Rebecca Yarros published Onyx Storm, the third installment in her Empyrean “romantasy” series on January 21, breaking sales records with more than 2.7 million copies sold in its first week—the fastest-selling adult fiction title in 20 years. The cultural hunger for escapist fantasy suggested audiences wanted relief from a relentlessly difficult present.
Inter Miami CF, led by Lionel Messi, won its first Major League Soccer Cup on December 6, marking a triumph for both the legendary player and American soccer’s growing ambitions. The fictional K-pop group from the Netflix series K-Pop Demon Hunters saw their song “Golden” hit No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100, becoming the first K-pop girl group, real or fictional, to reach the top slot. The movie became Netflix’s most-watched film of all time.
On October 19, thieves dressed as workers used a furniture ladder to break into Paris’s Louvre Museum, fleeing on scooters with Crown Jewels valued at €88 million (though they dropped a diamond-encrusted crown during their escape). Three suspects were charged and jailed, but the stolen treasures remained missing—a crime that sparked worldwide headlines and debates about security at the world’s most-visited museum.
And on December 16, the world celebrated the 250th anniversary of Jane Austen’s birth, a reminder that some cultural touchstones endure regardless of technological disruption or geopolitical turbulence.
Standing at year’s end, several patterns emerge from the chaos. First, the American-led international order that structured global affairs since 1945 is dissolving faster than any replacement is being built. Trump’s tariffs, his simultaneous courtship and confrontation with traditional allies, and his transactional approach to alliances all signal that the rules-based system is giving way to something more Hobbesian—though what precisely remains unclear.
Second, climate change has moved from future threat to present reality in ways that penetrate public consciousness even as political action remains inadequate. When Los Angeles burns and Southeast Asian floods kill thousands, the connection between fossil fuel emissions and human suffering becomes harder to dismiss as alarmist speculation.
Third, artificial intelligence is reshaping economic structures at a pace that makes measured policy responses nearly impossible. By the time regulators understand last year’s technology, next year’s innovation has already been deployed. The $1.5 trillion in AI spending this year will seem quaint when we look back from 2030.
Fourth, young people globally are losing patience with systems that offer them diminishing opportunities while demanding their compliance. From Kathmandu to New York, Gen Z is increasingly willing to take risks their parents avoided. Whether this energy produces meaningful reform or violent backlash will shape the decade ahead.
Fifth, the search for peace in long-running conflicts—Ukraine, Gaza, Yemen—keeps producing agreements that paper over rather than resolve fundamental disagreements. Ceasefires hold, barely, while the underlying causes of war remain unaddressed. This is not stability; it’s a fragile pause before the next round.
As we enter 2026, several questions demand answers. Can AI deliver on its enormous promises without triggering economic dislocation or enabling authoritarian control? Will democracies find ways to address voter anger, or will that anger keep empowering demagogues who offer simple answers to complex problems? Can the international community mobilize the resources needed to prevent climate change from triggering mass displacement and resource wars?
And perhaps most fundamentally: Is the post-1945 liberal international order worth saving, or should we accept that we’re entering a multipolar world where might increasingly makes right?
The optimist in me notes that humanity has navigated periods of comparable disruption before. The pessimist observes that such transitions typically involved considerable suffering before new equilibria emerged.
What’s undeniable is that 2025 represented not an aberration but an acceleration. The forces reshaping our world—technological, environmental, political, demographic—aren’t slowing down. If anything, they’re compounding, creating feedback loops that make prediction increasingly hazardous.
Those of us who chronicle these changes bear a responsibility to document not just events but patterns, not just what happened but what it might mean. And what 2025 meant, I believe, is this: the old world is dying, the new world struggles to be born, and in this interregnum, many monsters appear.
Whether 2026 brings us closer to resolution or deeper into crisis, one lesson from 2025 endures: change is the only constant, and our capacity to shape that change depends on our willingness to see clearly, think honestly, and act courageously in the face of enormous complexity.
The year ahead will test whether we’re equal to that challenge.
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