I have been watching the news from South Yemen closely, and I feel that many in the world still do not fully understand what is happening in the south of that country. What is unfolding today in cities like Mukalla is not random. It is not chaos. It is not just another headline. It reflects something deep , something that has been building for years.
In recent days, the situation in Southern Yemen has captured global attention because of a military escalation at the port of Mukalla. A Saudi-led coalition carried out a limited airstrike on ships there, saying the vessels had weapons meant for South Yemeni forces. The Yemeni government has even cancelled its defence deal with the UAE and asked UAE forces to leave within 24 hours. These actions show how fragile things have become and how quickly tensions can rise.
But if we look beyond the military moves, we see a people’s movement at the heart of this crisis. For many years, Southern Yemenis have lived with neglected services, weak governance, and political exclusion. Across the south, from Hadramaut to Aden, ordinary people have grown tired of broken promises and daily hardship. Many argue that the system that was imposed decades ago did not bring stability or security. Instead, it left millions struggling for basic needs like water, electricity, and work.
That is why people take to the streets not out of anger, but out of frustration and hope. In recent weeks, peaceful gatherings have drawn thousands of people calling for restoration of the Southern state that existed before unification in the 1990s. They talk about self-determination, dignity, and a chance to build a better future for their children.
I want to be clear: this is not about pushing for conflict. It is about people asking to be heard. The southern rallies are mostly peaceful. Families walk together. Young and old stand side by side. Their message is simple: “We want a system that works for us. We want security. We want services. We want dignity.”
Unfortunately, these peaceful demands now intersect with regional and geopolitical tensions. When big powers step in, and when military action escalates, the voices of everyday people can get lost in the noise of war and politics.
First, it’s must listen — really listen — to the people on the ground. Their demands are not random. They are rooted in decades of experience and struggle. Second, we must separate civic voices from military conflict. Recognising what ordinary Yemenis want does not mean supporting violence. It means respecting their right to be part of shaping their own future.
Finally, it’s must remember that peace cannot grow in a vacuum. It grows where people feel safe, respected, and included. If the goal is lasting peace in Yemen, then ignoring a large group of citizens and their aspirations will not help.
Southern Yemen is speaking. The question now is: will the world listen?
