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While it might be true that the cases are progressing, families of the missing argue they are moving at a snail’s pace.

Since early December, Fault Lines has spent time with families who are pushing for accountability and pleading with the government to learn what happened to their loved ones.

In some cases, they have spent years without receiving any direct response.

“It gets harder every time my nephew asks when his father will come home and I don’t have any answers,” said Rosario Villon, whose brother, Jonathan Villon, has been missing for almost a year and a half.

The 31-year-old father of three was last seen on December 9, 2024, when he left to pick up groceries in his hometown of Guayaquil.

Addressing a vigil for Jonathan last December, Rosario explained the toll his disappearance has taken on her family.

“Seeing my mother cry for her son, not knowing what to do next to bring him home — it isn’t easy,” she said.

Fault Lines has reviewed footage of the day Jonathan was detained. Security cameras show soldiers patrolling Jonathan’s neighbourhood, Nueva Prosperina.

A neighbour’s mobile phone video also captures the moments after Jonathan was forced into the truck’s bed, under a wooden bench. The truck then drives off, and he has not been seen since.

The family recorded the licence plate numbers of the municipal vehicle the soldiers were using, but the military has refused to respond to requests about Jonathan’s case.

“We have the evidence, we have videos, we have the licence plates of the truck, and they won’t give us a concrete and exact answer. What happened to my husband?” asked Jonathan’s partner, Yadira Bohorquez.

Lawyers representing the family say the military simply declared that it had no operations in that area on that date, despite the video evidence.

“The case of Jonathan Villon is completely paralysed by the refusal of the Ministry of Defence to cooperate in handing over information that the Prosecutor’s Office has already requested,” said Fernando Bastias, a lawyer with CDH Guayaquil, a human rights nonprofit representing the family.

Sokoto, Nigeria – Each time her curious seven-year-old child returned home from school with homework, 28-year-old Habiba Abubakar knew it was time to take him to her neighbour, whom the child called “aunt”, even though they were not related by blood, who had been his saviour every time he wanted to stand in front of his class and receive a standing ovation.

But that changed in 2021, when Abubakar enrolled herself in the Women Centre for Continuing Education (WCCE) in Sokoto State, northwest Nigeria.

“I’ve always felt ashamed when Muhammad told me that they’ve been given another assignment,” she told Al Jazeera.

This frustration, coupled with her enthusiasm for learning English, pushed her to return to the classroom 13 years after she left.

Now, the mother of four said she helps all the children with their assignments.

The interruption in Abibaker’s studies is not uncommon across northern Nigeria, especially in rural communities, where girls are more likely to drop out of school due to cultural practices, such as early marriage, or poverty, which forces parents to make gender-biased decisions by enrolling male children over females.

UNICEF reported that more than half of the girls in the region are not attending school.

Jennifer Agbaji, a social accountability professional and the executive director at Basileia Vulnerable Persons Rights Initiative (BVPRI), a Nigerian nonprofit dedicated to advancing the rights of women, girls, and other vulnerable populations through education and leadership development, viewed the initiative as a positive and necessary intervention.

Nonetheless, she said second-chance education should not be limited to classroom-based learning alone.

“If access to education depends solely on physical attendance, many women who face mobility, childcare, economic, health, or security challenges may still be excluded.”

How the system works

WCCE, commissioned by the then-military governor of Sokoto State, Navy Captain Abdul Rasheed Adisa Raji, was founded in 1997 to provide adult education and vocational skills to women in the state.

Since then, Nuraddeen Ladan Dogon Daji, a physics teacher, told Al Jazeera that the centre has trained many students, some of whom now practise professions, such as teaching and nursing, helping to address the country’s shortage of skilled professionals.

Unlike other public schools, where pupils spend six years, the centre designed a three-year curriculum for its primary section, from adult one to three.

In the secondary sections, students spend three years each in the junior and senior levels.

In their final years, they also sit for the mandatory Junior Leaving School Certificate of Education (JLSCE) and Senior School Certificate of Education (SSCE) examinations.

To help these students realise their dreams, the centre also offers free education, benefitting from the state government’s effort to reduce the number of out-of-school children.

This has helped students like Abubakar, who, following her divorce, relied heavily on her father’s support to stay in school.

“We used to pay 5,000 naira ($3.5) per term, but were later told to stop because the state government has given us a chance to study for free,” Abubakar told Al Jazeera from her home in the Kofar Atiku neighbourhood.

But free tuition does not eliminate all costs. Students still have to pay for transport, books, and other daily expenses.

The challenges

According to Agbaji, beyond poverty and early marriage, there are several structural barriers, including restrictive gender norms that prioritise domestic responsibilities over education.

She said many women lose confidence after years away from formal education, and in some communities, education is still viewed as an investment for boys rather than a lifelong right for women.

In her opinion, these norms often combine to make re-entry into education difficult, even when opportunities exist. In her journey to becoming a nurse, Fatima Attahir, who left school after primary school 12 years ago, found it necessary to go back to the classroom and start afresh.

To support herself while studying, she helps with her family’s trading activities when she is not in class.

She said that although some of her friends already saw the decision as time-consuming, she is not satisfied with the system’s duration.

“I wish the primary section was also up to six years,” she said.

“Because to become a nurse, I need to have a solid background in the core subjects.” Some of the students Al Jazeera spoke to said their greatest challenge is juggling academic activities with household responsibilities.

Before her divorce, Abubakar said she would wake up earlier than usual to prepare breakfast, clean the house, and get herself and her children ready for school.

“When I finally set my foot in class, I was already tired, and as the lectures went on, I would start slumbering because I hadn’t had enough sleep.” She said the pressure became worse when her youngest child frequently fell ill, sometimes forcing her to leave class before lectures ended.

After her divorce, transport costs became another obstacle. “Since I was no longer married, my parents were the ones paying for the transport fares, but when they couldn’t, I would not go to school because I couldn’t afford it myself,” she said.

Later, her father gave her 10,000 naira to start making and selling local snacks and small chops.

The small business now helps her cover transport costs and other school-related expenses. Abubakar still credits the neighbour who used to help her son with homework before she returned to school.

When transport costs became difficult to afford after her divorce, her parents stepped in when they could, while her father later provided the capital that helped her start a small business and continue her studies.

Her experience is not unique.

Another student, Hafsat Aliyu, said she leaves her two-year-old child with her in-laws whenever she attends classes to avoid disrupting lessons.

Her husband pays for books and other occasional school needs, while she sells local pastries during break time at the centre to earn money for daily transport and personal expenses.

During examination periods, she studies late into the night after completing household chores and putting her children to bed.

“My husband does his best, but I thought it was time for me to get a source of income, too,” she said.

“Now, I pay for my transport and a few other daily needs.”

However, the physics teacher, Dogon Daji, said that in his seven years of teaching at the centre, a recurring challenge among students is the pace of learning.

“I’ve taught young people, and the level of their understanding is quite different,” he said.

But he added that there are still outstanding students among them; one recently won this year’s Usmanu Danfodio Week, an annual quiz competition organised for secondary school students in the state.

On the other hand, the vocational section of the centre, which was designed to equip students with practical skills such as tailoring and soap-making, now offers only tailoring.

Students are required to provide tools, such as scissors, including those whose interests may lie in other trades.

The way forward

Agbaji acknowledged that for Nigeria to bridge the gender disparity in education, the country must adopt a lifelong learning framework that recognises education as a continuous right and opportunity.

This requires increased investment in adult education, digital and remote learning platforms, community-based education, and flexible pathways for women who missed formal schooling, because the long-term consequences are significant.

She added that many women pursuing second-chance education continue to balance childcare, household responsibilities, and income-generating activities, often relying on family and community support networks to remain in school.

“Educational exclusion perpetuates poverty, limits economic opportunities, increases vulnerability to abuse and exploitation, and restricts women’s participation in governance and public service. It also affects future generations because children of educated mothers are generally more likely to enrol in and complete school,” Agbaji clarified.

More than two years ago, Gaza resident Hanin Muhammad accompanied by her 39-year-old sister Sabreen, a kidney transplant recipient, was flown to the Iraqi capital Baghdad for medical treatment. But Muhammad has since been confined to the Private Nursing Home Hospital inside Baghdad’s Medical City complex, thousands of miles away from her home in Gaza, as her travel documents have been confiscated by Iraqi authorities.

“My six children are in Gaza, and I am entering my third year without seeing them,” 40-year-old Muhammad told Al Jazeera.

Her family home in Rafah was destroyed by Israeli forces, forcing her children to be displaced into makeshift tents located between Rafah and Khan Younis.

“I check on them through other people because they lack internet connection. I am begging anyone to intervene so we can get back to Egypt, register, and see our children,” she said. Currently, Palestinians can go in and out of Gaza only using the Rafah crossing, which opens into Egypt.

Muhammad, who travelled to Iraq as a medical companion to her sister, is part of a forgotten cohort of 46 Palestinians evacuated to Iraq, comprising 21 patients and 25 family escorts.

According to health authorities tracking the group, the clinical breakdown of the patients highlights the severity of their conditions, which include five oncology patients, four suffering from blood disorders, one cardiac patient, one kidney disease patient, and 10 patients wounded in the ongoing genocidal war that has killed nearly 73,000 Palestinians and wounded more than 172,000.

The group was flown to Baghdad in March 2024 on a military aircraft in coordination with the Iraqi and Egyptian governments, with a symbolic presence from the Palestinian Embassy in Cairo.

These rare evacuations highlight a much broader medical crisis back home. According to Gaza’s Health Ministry, more than 20,000 patients and wounded people are currently waiting to travel abroad for medical treatment.

Zaher al-Waheidi, head of the ministry’s Information Unit, reported that 1,200 children in Gaza now suffer from spinal cord injuries and paralysis directly resulting from Israeli attacks, while some 4,000 children require urgent treatment abroad.

Despite the overwhelming need, official data provided by al-Waheidi shows that only 154 children have been allowed to leave Gaza since the Rafah crossing, the enclave’s only gateway to the outside world, partially reopened in February amid heavy Israeli restrictions.

The crisis is equally dire for newborns: in 2025, more than 4,000 women had premature deliveries, and at least 4,800 babies were born with low birth weights – double the pre-war figure. Last year alone, 457 infants died in their first week of life.

For the handful who made it out, like the group in Iraq, the promised sanctuary quickly devolved into a cage defined by confiscated documents, restricted movements, and systemic neglect.

Confiscated documents and suspended lives

Upon their arrival from Egypt’s Heliopolis Hospital, the promised short-term recovery windows evaporated. Evacuees state that their primary identification and travel documents were immediately seized.

“When we left Egypt for Iraq, the Iraqi authorities took our identification papers from the Egyptians, and we haven’t seen them since,” Muhammad told Al Jazeera.

“When we asked for them, they told us they were held by Iraqi Intelligence and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. We demand them back, but no one answers us.”

The Palestinian Embassy in Baghdad issued new passports for those lacking them, but according to Muhammad, these documents remain unstamped by the Iraqi government and are functionally useless. She noted that without the official stamps, they cannot travel anywhere.

This administrative vacuum has completely frozen the lives of the companions. Noor Ibrahim, a pseudonym for a young woman who arrived as an escort for her cancer-stricken aunt, is stranded along with four of her aunt’s children.

“I have been engaged for four years, and my fiancé and family are in Gaza,” Ibrahim told Al Jazeera. “We left on the promise that it would be a temporary six-month treatment trip, but now, two years have passed.”

She expressed deep frustration as she is stuck inside the medical complex, emphasising that she just wants to return to Egypt, from where she can travel to Gaza to complete her marriage and start her life.

The stress of the confinement has also severely exacerbated underlying health conditions. Ibrahim noted that while her aunt received the necessary cancer treatment, she has developed various other undisclosed health complications in Iraq, and her psychological state is exhausted from leaving her husband and family behind in war-ravaged Gaza.

Retaliation and dire conditions

For the Palestinians living inside Baghdad’s Medical City complex, daily life has become a grind of material deprivation and psychological distress. The evacuees are completely cut off from any monetary stipends, leaving them entirely dependent on the hospital for basic shelter and local citizens for additional charity.

Samah Abdul Moati, 65, who battles leukaemia, liver cancer, and an arm injury, is accompanied by her injured 43-year-old son and her daughter-in-law. She painted a grim picture of their daily life.

“The hospital brings food every day, but no one can eat it because it is unfit for consumption,” Abdul Moati told Al Jazeera. “We are surviving on the grace of local well-wishers who don’t fail us. But we don’t care about the treatment any more – we just want to return to our children.”

Abdul Moati’s situation is compounded by unfathomable grief: two of her sons were killed in the war, two others have platinum implants from injuries, her husband is fighting cancer in a Gaza intensive care unit with no one to care for him, and her daughters and orphaned grandchildren are living in tents for displaced people.

“The hardest feeling is that I am trapped between the hospital walls while my heart is outside with my family and my people,” Abdul Moati said. “My husband is in the intensive care unit alone, and my children and grandchildren are in tents under the cold and fear.”

Compounding their alienation, evacuees who have tried to protest or publicise their predicament faced swift administrative blowback. When they demanded their right to travel five months ago and spoke to the media, hospital management retaliated by locking down the ward and banning them from even visiting the hospital garden.

Muhammad revealed that they were only allowed out after journalists wrote about their situation, adding that officials continuously throw them from one department to another without providing any straightforward answers.

Bureaucratic runaround

The spokesperson for the Iraqi Ministry of Health, Saif Albadr, did not answer repeated calls from Al Jazeera.

While the head of public relations at the Health Ministry, Ruba Falah Hassan, told Al Jazeera that the case is “political.”

“Frankly, this is a political issue, not health-related.. I’m not authorised to talk about it,” she stated.

The newly appointed Iraqi government spokesperson, Haidar Al-Aboudi, told Al Jazeera that he “will look into the matter”.

For the Palestinians stranded in the Medical City, they maintain that they lack the financial means to buy commercial airline tickets even if their papers are returned, meaning they desperately need a coordinated effort by a charity or government body to facilitate their travel back to Egypt.

“I am not asking for a luxury or an exception,” Abdul Moati pleaded in her final remarks.

“I am asking for a simple human right: that my family does not remain divided between life and death. Open a safe path, facilitate our family reunification, and let me return to my family before it is too late.”

Bembou Silaty, Guinea – Mamadou Aliou walks through the small village of Bembou Silaty in northwestern Guinea carrying an irresolvable contradiction.

The 38-year-old works in the environmental health and safety department for a bauxite mining company, yet he is also an activist striving to improve life in his community, which often means criticising the actions of another mining company in the area.

“Before these companies arrived, we cultivated our land, and it sustained us,” Aliou told Al Jazeera.

“We could cover our daily needs, especially food. But now, when a piece of land is registered and belongs to a mining company, you have nothing there any more.”

The foreign-linked mining companies are part of the global scramble for Guinea’s bauxite. The West African nation holds the world’s biggest reserves of the ore, which is the source material for alumina and ultimately aluminium, a metal essential for car and aircraft frames, windows, wind turbines, and solar panels.

Over the past three decades, Guinea has multiplied its bauxite production tenfold. More than a dozen projects of bauxite production are currently ongoing in the country, according to the online cadastre.

As the global energy transition demands ever more aluminium, it has placed Guinea in a strategically crucial position. Approximately 75 percent of the bauxite exported by the country over the past decade has ended up in China, which produces 60 percent of the world’s aluminium.

Companies from Russia, the United States, and the United Arab Emirates have also established themselves in the country to secure the ore. In Bembou Silaty, an Indian company that began operations in 2019 now holds an exploitation concession until 2034.

Located in the prefecture of Telimele (Kindia region), Bembou Silaty has undergone a transformation since bauxite was discovered on its land about five years ago.

Yet, on the ground, many lament the cost: Contaminated water, loss of farmland, and a steep decline in agricultural productivity.

‘No land, no money’

In the traditional bauxite heartlands of Kindia and Boke, the main roads are in notably good condition, a cut above the rest of the country. Steady jobs in technical roles or transport logistics have created economic opportunities for some Guineans.

Yet Bembou Silaty remains a quiet, peaceful village without electricity, and farming methods that are untouched by mechanisation.

Less than 2km (1.2 miles) away, however, the lush green landscape and mild climate of the rainy season give way to the electric-powered site of the Indian mining company.

There, excavators and trucks laden with bauxite constantly traverse the wide, unpaved roads, built to accommodate the heavy traffic, in a noisy, busy zone where the mining economy bulldozes its way forward.

People working in technical roles at the mine can earn up to about $300 a month.

For other locals who make a living from farming, most don’t have a regular wage and rely on the yield from their crops.

Across Guinea, an estimated half of the population depends on agriculture for their livelihood.

Locals in Bembou Silaty say every hectare claimed by mining is a hectare lost to farming, in a country that spent more than $500m importing rice in 2024.

“They give you compensation for your land, but it’s not enough, and in the end, it’s mismanaged,” Aliou said.

“Within a month or two, someone who received 50 or 100 million Guinean francs ($5,700-11,400) has nothing left. No land, no money. They have to start over, from below zero.”

Locals who still own land continue to grow rice, cassava, peanuts and cashews in the village, but they have ever less space and agricultural productivity is falling.

The village women have set up an association, “Allawalli” (which means “God help us” in Fula), to work cooperatively.

‘Not enough’

Walking through the alleys of Bembou Silaty, a few houses stand out.

They are made of cement, which withstands the rains better than the more common mud-brick homes, though many remain unfinished.

Locals say they were built with compensation money.

Fatoumata Binta Bah, a neighbour of Aliou’s, comes from a family of farmers. They once cultivated cashews, their livelihood.

Then the Indian mining company started up operations and offered them less than 50 million Guinean francs (about $5,700) for their land. That compensation, paid as a lump sum, seemed like a decent amount of money, she says.

But now, the money is gone, and their new house is still incomplete.

“The land they took from us was productive. That’s what we lived on,” said Bah, 20, as she prepared tea over a fire in the family courtyard.

“In the end, it wasn’t enough,” she lamented.

The Indian company did not respond to Al Jazeera’s questions on the purchase of land.

Meanwhile, on the outskirts of the village, surgical holes drilled into the ground mark where mining companies have tested for bauxite – a reminder to the farmers that the impact on the land is felt even before extraction begins.

In a recent report, Djami Diallo, the Guinean minister of the environment and sustainable development, stated that each year, certain companies had their impact studies and evaluation reports rejected for failing to comply with environmental standards.

Three or four companies in Boke, Kindia’s neighbouring region that is considered the bauxite capital in the country, were said to be affected. But the minister acknowledged that “just because companies do not meet the conditions to obtain the compliance certificate does not mean that everything stops.”

Clean water, the greatest challenge

Not all homes in Bembou Silaty, a community of about 5,000, have indoor toilets and plumbing. In the centre of the village, there are communal latrines for those who do not have facilities available in their homes. Showers can be taken in the same place, using a bucket and water collected from the spring.

One small gain for the community since the mining company’s arrival is a new water point in the village. The tap serves nearly all the residents. Even Aliou uses it to fill buckets for his household – for cooking and drinking – though he says he knows the water contains iron, as contamination occurs.

Still, he considers himself luckier than his friends in the neighbouring village of Koussadji Dow, who rely on now-brown, contaminated river water.

Tala Oury Sow, a trader and farmer, washes her cooking utensils in the murky river water – a daily struggle.

She starts speaking softly, surrounded by neighbours, but her voice rises to a shout.

“Do you think we can live like this?

“We had hoped the mining company’s arrival would improve things, but it has gotten worse,” she protested.

“Since the mining companies came, we’ve had this problem with the water. The children get sick, and the parents too,” added Mariama Kindi Diallo, a farmer, in her courtyard.

“The doctors tell us not to drink the rain or river water. There are no roads, no school, no phone signal. What are we supposed to do? We are asking for help to have a dignified life,” she pleaded, as her family and neighbours nodded in agreement.

The Indian company did not respond to requests for comment on these issues.

‘We need refineries here’

To escape the increasingly difficult conditions in villages like Bembou Silaty, some people leave the rural areas and head to the capital, Conakry.

Bauxite mining so dominates Guinea that one can chance upon a driver of one of the trains hauling ore from the mines to the port of Kamsar.

Alpha, who did not want his real name published, works for a United States-backed company and provides a window into the immense volume of resources being exported.

“We operate six trains of 150 wagons each day,” he said, explaining that the annual target for 2025 was to export 17.5 million tonnes of bauxite.

“The government wants to change things, because the profits we make in Guinea right now are small. We need refineries here to increase the state’s revenue,” he added.

Alpha lives near the coast, where his job has allowed him to build a house for his family and achieve a standard of living unattainable for most of his compatriots.

The government of Mamady Doumbouya, which came to power in a 2021 coup, is attempting to reorganise the mining sector. It is pressing investors to process bauxite within Guinea, ensuring a portion of the value stays in the country.

Processing bauxite into aluminium can multiply its price by 37 times.

Instability in Iran amid the US and Israel’s war has contributed to rising aluminium prices, which surpassed $3,600 per tonne in April.

Doumbouya is set to lead the country for the next seven years, after winning the December 2025 elections with nearly 87 percent of the vote. While opponents view him as illegitimate, many Guineans agree on the need to reform the mining sector.

Achieving this, however, requires a huge increase in electricity generation – power that is non-existent in villages like Bembou Silaty and unreliable even in Conakry, where blackouts are frequent when fans and TVs are switched on at night.

Guinea is working with neighbouring Senegal on a solution: Using Senegalese gas to generate enough electricity to process its bauxite on African soil. Currently, both countries export raw materials, while jobs and wealth are created elsewhere.

Following the bauxite route

More than 3,000km (1,900 miles) away, across the ocean, Spain is also a part of the Guinean bauxite story.

Parets del Valles, a municipality of 18,000 people less than 30km (19 miles) from Barcelona, represents the journey’s end.

From the town centre to its industrial outskirts, businesses specialising in aluminium are plentiful: Aluminium distribution, carpentry, and window fitting, much of them serving household needs.

For Spain, Europe’s largest consumer of Guinean bauxite, more than 90 percent of its imports come from Guinea-Conakry.

The aluminium produced there, mainly in the country’s north, feeds the automotive industry and serves both industrial and domestic purposes.

Parets is another world compared with the bauxite’s point of origin in Guinea.

In Spain, there is light, hot water, paved roads – all the base elements of a decent life. It’s why many say growing numbers of West Africans are arriving in Parets and across the Valles Oriental region. This is part of a broader trend in Catalonia and Spain, according to the Spanish National Statistics Institute (INE): The Guinean population has quadrupled in Spain since 2000 – from 2,700 to 11,000 people – and in Catalonia from 1,000 to 4,000.

These figures don’t include those who go unregistered.

Increasingly, more boats are leaving directly from Guinea, towards the Canary Islands and on to mainland Europe. According to Frontex, the European Union border security agency, more Guineans arrived in the Canary Islands, Spain, in 2023 (2,324) than in the previous 13 years combined. In 2024 and 2025 combined, another 6,000 Guineans arrived.

Migrants, predominantly men from Senegal and increasingly from Guinea, come alone, settling where they have contacts and job prospects. The newest arrivals, often very young, spend long hours with their mobile phones as their sole companion – the only tether to the country they left behind.

Many left, following the bauxite trail, hoping to find something more in the places where their resources are both enjoyed and exploited.

As Aliou, back in Bembou Silaty, says: “If you compare the bauxite we export with what we get in return, the difference is enormous. We gain almost nothing. Just enough to survive.”

This article was produced in collaboration with the Catalan association SETEM Catalunya, promoted by the Connect for Global Change consortium and Lafede.cat, and with financial support from the European Union and the Government of Catalonia (Generalitat de Catalunya)

Women in eastern Democratic Republic of the Congo are disproportionately impacted by Ebola as shortages of protective gear amid funding cuts accelerate the spread of disease. Al Jazeera’s Imogen Kimber reports how these caregivers to the living and the dead are most at risk.

Belgian defender Thomas Meunier caused debate recently after saying that France has the footballing talent to put out three teams capable of winning the World Cup.

Could Les Bleus, who are co-favourites with Spain in this summer’s World Cup, really lift the title with their second- or third-string team? Maybe not, but their talent is certainly Mariana Trench-deep.

Consider this: According to transfermarkt.com, a lineup of French players that didn’t make the 26-man cut would rank in value among the top five teams – ahead of Portugal, Brazil, the Netherlands and reigning champions Argentina.

Lucas Chevalier 30 million euros ($35m); Pierre Kalulu 32 million, Jeremy Jacquet 55 million, Leny Yoro 50 million, Adrien Truffert 25 million; Boubacar Kamara 40 million, Eduardo Camavinga 50 million; Dilani Bakwa 28 million, Senny Mayulu 40 million or Khephren Thuram 40 million, Mousa Diaby 28 million; Junior Kroupi 40 million. = 418 million [38 million average]

So, how did Les Bleus get to this point?

It started with frustration after French teams consistently fell short on the biggest stage from the 1930s to the 1970s. The solution, national team manager Georges Boulogne said in the early 1970s, would be for the French Football Federation to create training academies known as Centres de Formation.

“France had not won any trophies, and it was decided they needed to create a new structure,” INF (Institut National du Football) Clairefontaine administrator Franck Bentolila told Al Jazeera.

The government backed the programme, viewing it as promoting French ideals through sports, as well as a recipe for winning trophies.

A total of 16 centres were set up, the first opening in 1974 with the main site in Vichy. It recruited widely, drawing young players from the entire country, plus overseas departments. The centres laid a foundation, preparing players for professional careers and the national team.

The record was initially mixed. In the 1980s, France won the European Championship and Olympic Games titles (both in 1984) and reached two World Cup semifinals, but then failed to qualify for the 1990 and 1994 World Cups.

But by 1998, everything fell into place, with the so-called “Black-Blanc-Beur” squad winning the World Cup at home. The multiethnic group represented the changing nature of French society, as well as validating the federation’s development programme. Bentolila said coach Aime Jacquet dedicated the victory to “all the amateur clubs and academies – it’s also your trophy”.

“The [1980s] period with [Michel] Platini, [Alain] Giresse, [Jean] Tigana, had a lot of talent, but we don’t win a World Cup,” Bernard Lama, a goalkeeper who captained the national team in the 1990s, told Al Jazeera.

“The difference with our generation, all the guys were from academies. And we were hungry to win a title. And, also, we had one exceptional talent with Zinedine Zidane.”

France went on to lift the 2018 World Cup and were runners-up in 2006 and 2022.

‘We have players who can make a difference’

Lama traces France’s success to the combination of the centres, with the contribution of immigration.

“You have people coming from overseas – Africa, French Guyana, Martinique – they give us two things, music and sports,” Lama said.

“And, now, there is a sub-generation coming from overseas, and they are French. [Ousmane] Dembele, [Desire] Doue, they are French, they are not naturalised, they grew up in France, the majority around Paris.

“And they are hungry, you understand, for a lot of reasons. But, also, it’s not only a question of work; the first thing is they have talent.”

Lama sees a danger in football, more broadly, of players becoming overly drilled and “robotic”, but France has many exceptions who can give them an edge.

“We are lucky to still have these players who are capable of making the difference,” Lama said. “Maybe that is why we are so good, we have players like [Kylian] Mbappe, Dembele, Doue. They hate to lose and, physically and technically, they can make the difference, individually.

“And that is the force of the national team, and also PSG, our capacity to score. Today, we have maybe four or five guys – [Maghnes] Akliouche, [Rayan] Cherki, a different kind of talent. When you have that explosion of talent, it gives the coach more solutions, offensive solutions.”

Most national team members, no matter their background, have gone through the academies, but their development starts long before that.

“It’s cultural,” Bentolila said. “In America, when you are young, you have a basketball in your hands, or a football in your hands. In France, you have a football at your feet when you are a baby – and free access to facilities.”

That part of the formula sounds similar to many countries. Is there a secret to French development, or are they just doing it better than most?

“The secrets,” said longtime coach and scout Stephane Nado, “are a combination of hard work, structure and organisation.”

Nado said: “The player is the centre, the heart, of the project. The player will receive education. And we will not take them away from their family. It is important for them to keep their roots, important psychologically. This is why France is one of the best in the world at developing players for export.”

Training at Clairefontaine blends street game skills with organisation, including “lots of 1 vs 1, 2 vs 2”, Bentolila said. “You have to fight. You’re good at dribbling and first touch, now you organise possession, 5 vs 2. As soon as you get the ball, you have to have good control. We do that a lot.”

Clairefontaine is now focusing on younger age groups, ceding responsibility for older players to clubs. And development is expanding beyond the centres and established club academies, Bentolila said.

“Paris and Sao Paulo are the best areas in the world for talent,” Bentolila said. “Why? Private academies. It is an amazing situation. Kids, eight- and nine-year-olds, playing every day. Amateur coaches offer not a meal, but a snack at 4 o’clock. Then, they do homework and training sessions. When they are 12 years old, they play like Mbappe.

“In Paris, you have amateur clubs nobody knows, and they can beat [the youth teams of] Barcelona and professional clubs. They are better than PSG, Paris FC. So many players – they play anywhere, any time, eight years old against 10 years old. They are like soldiers, they fight every day, and they are good because they play under pressure.”

In the 1980s, Les Bleus were dubbed “The Brazilians of Europe”. It’s taken a while, but France appears to have lived up to the moniker. And they’ve gone about it their own way.

“Brazilian coaches [used to] tell me, ‘In our country, we are poor, but we can succeed in football or music. So, we start the day with football,’” Bentolila said.

“In France, we go to school, first, and, after, practise football. We do it every day and, like Brazil, we play a lot, and play well.”

A digital register of land ownership in the West Bank is seen as an escalation of Israel’s occupation.

Occupied East Jerusalem, Palestine – A controversial Israeli plan to digitally register property ownership in the occupied West Bank is a “dangerous colonial occupation step that represents a direct assault on the historical and legal rights of the Palestinian people to their land and property”, the Palestinian Land Authority has said.

The Palestinian Jerusalem Governorate and the Colonization and Wall Resistance Commission (CRRC) have urged Palestinians in the West Bank not to engage with any Israeli “entities, committees, platforms, or procedures” of lands and property.

Israel reportedly launched the online “Land Registry and Settlement of Rights” platform on which it plans to “update” property ownership in the occupied West Bank on Wednesday this week.

The Jerusalem Governorate and the CRRC have called on the international community, the United Nations, the International Criminal Court and all international human rights and legal institutions to “take their urgent responsibilities to stop these illegal procedures and hold the occupying state accountable for its continuous violations against the Palestinian people, their land, and their resources”, they said.

Moayad Shaaban, head of the CRRC, which is part of the Palestine Liberation Organization, said the move reveals “the occupation’s transition from traditional policies of field control to digital and administrative colonial engineering aimed at imposing permanent legal realities on the occupied Palestinian territory”.

‘Annexation’ by land registry

In May 2025, the Israeli Security Cabinet launched a new, aggressive land settlement process throughout the West Bank, with the aim of “completing the legal and administrative annexation of the occupied territories through fully registering the lands under Israeli authority”, the Jerusalem Governorate said.

Then, in July 2025, Israel’s parliament approved a symbolic measure calling for the annexation of the occupied West Bank. The move was first tabled in 2024 by Israel’s far-right Finance Minister Bezalel Smotrich, who himself lives in an illegal Israeli settlement.

On February 15, 2026, the permanent acquisition and registration of approximately 58 percent of Area C – the part of the West Bank over which Israel exerts total control – began.

Under that decision, Palestinian land registration in the Israeli “Tabu” – the land registry extract – began for the first time since the occupation of the West Bank in 1967. It is a final measure that will be difficult to challenge in Israeli courts, the Israel Hayom newspaper reported in February.

With the onset of land settlement, the Israeli Land Registry unit will take over the regulation and registration of land ownership in Area C. It also has the power to issue sales permits and to collect fees. Israel aims to complete the full settlement of 15 percent of the West Bank by the end of 2030.

Some 700,000 Israeli settlers already live in the West Bank and East Jerusalem, as illegal settlement has expanded under the government of Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu.

Rights groups say settlement approvals, along with rising settler violence against Palestinian communities, have accelerated since Israel launched its genocidal war on Gaza on October 7, 2023.

WHO can blame Paul McCartney for glancing in the rear-view mirror on his latest record? 

At 83, the likely lad from Liverpool, who became a Beatle and Britain’s best-loved songwriter, is due a moment of reflection.  

He looks at it this way: “As a writer, you often write about things in the past, even if it’s just yesterday.” 

Or even, as Macca can’t resist saying, if that past “always seems so far away”.  

“That’s another nice idea. I think I might have done that one,” he adds in acknowledgment of his immortal Beatles ballad Yesterday. 

His 20th solo studio album, The Boys Of Dungeon Lane, finds him casting his mind back to innocent times before The Beatles changed his life for ever. 

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Five of the 14 tracks visit the simple pleasures of youth — As You Lie There, Days We Left Behind, Down South, Home To Us (a first ever duet with Ringo) and Salesman Saint — and, as you’ll discover, each comes with a captivating back story. 

Here, the master storyteller, whose previous character studies include Eleanor Rigby, The Fool On The Hill and She’s Leaving Home, turns the spotlight on himself for what might just be his most personal song cycle yet. 

On The Boys Of Dungeon Lane, Sir Paul makes you believe in HIS yesterdays. 

Asked why much of his latest work deals with memories, he replies: “I think writers, including me, ask themselves that. 

“When you think about, say, Charles Dickens, what’s he going to write about except stuff he knows and stuff he remembers? Then he can gussy them up.” 

And do recent Beatles and Wings reissue projects have an impact on the way he fashions a song these days? 

“No,” answers McCartney emphatically. “The thing that pulls it all together is me — it’s my brain making music.  

“I don’t think, ‘Wow, oh yeah, let’s do this. This is a Beatles idea, or this is a Wings idea’. I don’t think like that. It’s all current. It’s me. This is what I do.” 

Listen to The Boys Of Dungeon Lane and you’ll understand what he’s getting at.  

Despite first picking up a guitar nearly 70 years ago, he’s still making eclectic, freewheeling music, brimful of ideas, even if many lyrics are bathed in nostalgia. 

The album was recorded over the past five years, when time permitted between touring and other commitments, in the company of in-demand American producer Andrew Watt, known for his work with Ozzy Osbourne, Post Malone, Lady Gaga, Miley Cyrus and, ironically, The Beatles’ chief Sixties chart rivals, the Rolling Stones. 

“We just enjoyed it,” says Macca of his sessions with Watt. “We were like a couple of Boys Of Dungeon Lane — little boys in a sandpit — and we were having fun.” 

So, with the help of telling observations from the man himself, given to me by his team, let’s take a deep dive into the key tracks. 

As You Lie There begins proceedings in memorable style with an intimate spoken word passage delivered over minor key acoustic strums. 

McCartney intones: “I used to walk past your house. Every night I’d look up at your window. The light was on. I saw your silhouette on the blind. Do you think of me? Do I ever cross your mind?” 

The song, with its squalling rock refrain, recalls a teenage crush from the time Macca lived at 20 Forthlin Road in the Allerton area of south Liverpool, in the house where he and John Lennon first discovered their spark of creative chemistry. 

“Up in one of the ­windows, there was a girl I ­fancied called Jasmine,” he says of his tale of unrequited love. “But I didn’t know how to approach her. I never spoke to her. 

“The joke was, she did show up later that year and knocked on the door. I was indisposed — I was on the toilet — so I missed Jasmine.” 

Aside from the sweet story behind the lyrics, As You Lie There is important because it is the song that kickstarted the whole process, just as the world was emerging from the Covid pandemic. 

McCartney says: “The album really started when my manager said, ‘Would you like to meet Andrew Watt?’ 

“I knew he was an active young producer, and I liked some of his stuff. I said, ‘Yeah, great’. He said, ‘Well, it’s just a cup of tea. Go down to his studio’.” 

The pair hit it off and what began as that cuppa at Watt’s basement studio — located in his Beverly Hills residence once owned by Charlie Chaplin — soon turned into something much more significant. 

Macca described his songwriting process, how he would try “to find  

a really weird chord”, to give him “a little inspiration”. 

To his delight, he realised that Watt, a big guitar collector, “had figured that if I was coming down, it would be handy to have a left-handed guitar. 

“I struck this mad chord,” he continues. “I still have no idea what it is, then I changed one note, then another. Suddenly we  had a three-chord sequence and Andrew said, ‘We should record this’.” 

As the song took shape, they considered bringing in Chad Smith of Red Hot Chili Peppers on drums but Watt suggested that McCartney, a more than proficient drummer, should play them himself.  

He says: “I really enjoyed drumming to it, so I put down the drum track, then obviously the bass.  

“Then Andrew put the guitar lick down, because he’s a good guitar player. And over a few days, we made As You Lie There. That started the journey.” 

The “journey” included recordings in various LA studios as well as Macca’s own Hog Hill Mill in Sussex and his old Beatles stomping ground, Abbey Road. 

Of all the ensuing songs, first single Days We Left We Behind sets the tone — and is also significant for yielding the album title. 

“This is very much a memory song for me,” says McCartney. “I was just thinking about those days I left behind.” 

Whenever he goes to Liverpool these days, to visit the city’s Institute for Performing Arts (LIPA) for instance, he notes that “the back entrance to the airport is in Dungeon Lane”. 

He remembers trips down that lane “as a little kid, because I used to wander off, just on my own, with my little bird book”. 

It was the keen ornithologist’s gateway to stunning Mersey Shore, an area teeming with wading birds just a short distance from suburban Speke where he lived between the ages of five and 13. 

“Speke is quite working class,” says McCartney. “We didn’t have much at all but it didn’t matter because all the people were great and you didn’t notice it. 

“It’s my wife Nancy’s favourite track on the album. When we play it to people, we say, ‘You don’t need to cry’, and then you look up and see that they are.” 

When asked how he settled on the album title, Macca says you could ask the same question about Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. 

“It’s just some words I like. We were thinking Along The Mersey Shore could be good. But then I liked The Boys Of Dungeon Lane — it’s a bit more, ‘What’s that about?’ ” 

McCartney says Days We Left Behind “involves a bit in the middle about John and Forthlin Road”. (The McCartney family moved there in 1955). 

It suggests that he and his much-missed songwriting partner in The Beatles “wrote a secret code, to never be spoken”. 

This leads us to the folkie Down South which, says Macca, is “another one about reminiscing”.  

“I often think about John and George,” he continues. “We used to hitchhike in the days before The Beatles. It was in the days when you could — now I warn my grandkids, ‘Don’t do it’, because there are too many nutters out there.” 

He remembers: “I got a tip from someone who said, ‘You start off in Chester — because that’s where all the lorries are and they’re all going straight down south. That’s a good place to get your first lift’.” 

With Harrison, seven months his junior, coming along for the ride to places like Harlech in Wales, it was a perfect chance to do some “bonding” with his future bandmate. 

And speaking of bandmates, what about the rousing Home To Us, which, for good reason, is the only track McCartney doesn’t play the drums on. 

During one of his breaks from sessions with Watt, he “talked to Ringo about Andrew”. 

“Then Ringo went round to Andrew’s studio and drummed a bit. Next time I saw Ringo, he said, ‘Well, he didn’t do anything with it.’  

“I asked what he’d expected and he said, ‘Well, you know, a track’.” 

When Macca finally heard his old mucker’s efforts, he suggested to Watt: “We SHOULD make a track and send it to Ringo. So, we did.” 

On writing the Home To Us lyrics, he reveals: “This song is done totally with Ringo in mind. I’m talking about where we came from.  

“In common with a lot of people, you come from nothing and you build yourself up. Ringo was the one who came from the most ‘nothing’ in The Beatles. 

“He was from the Dingle and that was well hard. He used to get mugged coming home from work. 

“Even though it was crazy, it was ‘home to us’ and I made the song around that idea.” At first, Ringo only sang a few lines of chorus, but Macca rang him and said he’d “love to hear him sing the whole thing”. 

“Next, we took my first line, Ringo’s second line and we had a duet — something we’d never done before.  

“We also wanted backing vocals, and I had the idea it would be nice to hear girls. Chrissie Hynde and Sharleen Spiteri are mates — and they did it.” 

The last of McCartney’s memory songs is the most poignant, Salesman Saint, which pays tribute to his midwife mother Mary who died when he was only 14 (the “mother Mary” of Let It Be) and his salesman/amateur musician father Jim. 

He says: “This song is me remembering my mum and dad. I was born in World War II and I often think, ‘Bloody hell, it’s tough enough having a baby now but imagine if we were all conscious that bombs could be falling any minute’ — and Liverpool was getting heavily bombed.  

“I was thinking about them bringing up this kid in those circumstances. My dad happened to be a cotton salesman, and my mum was a nurse. They did it. They managed it and they brought up me and my brother [Mike]. 

“Got us to doctors, got us to school and did all these things under those circumstances. At the end of the song, there’s music I’m trying to make from their era.” 

So now you’ve heard about all the songs inspired by McCartney’s youth but there are NINE more tracks to digest. So here, in Macca’s own words, are his thoughts on those: 

Lost Horizon: “This one came about when our dearly beloved and now sadly deceased studio manager, Eddie Klein, was logging some old cassettes of mine.  

“He asked me if I remembered Lost Horizon and I said, ‘No’. He said, ‘It’s good, you should listen to it’. So, we remade it faithfully to the cassette version — just with a more modern sound.” 

Ripples On A Pond: “It’s a love song. Like a few of the songs, we started this in my studio in Sussex. I said to Andrew, ‘You’re supposed to be a pop producer and we’re making all these records that don’t sound like that to me so, come on, let’s pop this one up!’ ”  

Mountain Top: “My wife is a real live music fan and if there’s anything on she’s like, ‘Can we go?’ So, we go to Glastonbury every year and I started fantasising about some young girl tripping — she’s magic mushroomed out. The things you write songs about!” (Nancy delivers the closing spoken words.)  

We Two: “A lot of Beatles records were made on a four-track Studer machine, including A Day In The Life. It’s such a classic now. I’ve got one in the studio and we use it sometimes. Andrew loves all these recording legends of the past. I showed him the Studer and he said, ‘Can we use it now?’ Luckily, it’s in full working order so we did We Two on it. It’s a little love song.” 

Come Inside: “Going to side two now. We start it off with a rocker love song. It’s straightforward — but with verve.” 

Never Know: “When I was in LA, I always liked the idea of Laurel Canyon and that scene. The days of Joni Mitchell, the Eagles — all that hanging out, getting stoned and playing guitars. So that was the vibe that started off Never Know.” 

Life Can Be Hard: “I had a little instrumental chord sequence during Covid — and there was a little baby in the house, my wife’s niece’s new baby and it was a thrill. For a lot of people, Covid was terrible if you weren’t with family.  

“Anyway, this baby used to like these chords, and it became a song. Life can be hard, but that’s when we put it together again. It’s a positive message.”  

First Star Of The Night: “I was on tour and had a day off, which was precious. We were in Costa Rica and it rained hard — all day heavy, tropical rain. I was thinking about being out by the pool, but you really couldn’t go out.  

“I thought, ‘I know, I’ll write a song’. I had my guitar with me. So, this starts out, ‘Even when it’s raining’, but then I switched it to, ‘Even when it’s raining inside’, just to give myself somewhere to go with the song.” 

Momma Gets By: “The last track on the album and it’s totally imaginary. I was thinking of Porgy and Bess’s world. It’s basically about a woman who you can see is the strength in the family.” 

Finally, Macca is asked how he hopes listeners will respond to his new album. 

He replies: “Well, I hope they fall in love with the songs and the performances. I hope it takes them to a place of joy.” 

Whether it’s Penny Lane, Dungeon Lane or Memory Lane, Paul McCartney will transport you there. 

Roll up! Roll up! He is your magical not-so-mysterious tour guide. 

PAUL McCARTNEY

The Boys Of Dungeon Lane

★★★★★

A mile from the Manhattan jail where convicted sex offender Jeffrey Epstein was found dead in 2019, an unassuming Tribeca gallery at 101 Reade Street has been transformed into a physical archive of the disgraced financier’s many cases.

More than 3.5 million pages of law enforcement documents published by the United States Department of Justice have been printed, bound and stacked across 3,437 volumes to line the walls of a room from floor to ceiling.

The exhibition, titled “The Donald J Trump and Jeffrey Epstein Memorial Reading Room”, was organised by the Institute for Primary Facts, a nonprofit that says it focuses on transparency and anti-corruption initiatives.

Epstein was arrested on sex trafficking charges in July 2017 before hanging himself in his New York jail cell a month later, denying victims a chance at justice. The “reading room” is an attempt to shed light on the many cases connected to Epstein that never went to trial.

The shelves hold documents released under the Epstein Files Transparency Act, alongside timelines, handwritten visitor notes, and a memorial space dedicated to survivors and victims.

Since opening two weeks ago, the gallery has drawn a steady stream of visitors, including survivors of a string of offences linked to Epstein.

Lara Blume McGee, who was only 17 when she was abused by Epstein, visited the reading room last week.

“I found something brutally human in the Trump-Epstein reading room,” Blume McGee told Al Jazeera. “Proof that our lives mattered enough to be gathered, cataloged, and finally seen.”

She described entering the room as walking into a “paper city”, with three and a half million pages on display, a sight that hit her “like a physical blow”. What she remembers most vividly is the silence.

“The silence was thick with memory,” she said. “Row after row, each bound volume a life, a name, a day that should never have happened if the US government had acted when he was reported to the FBI in 1996.”

The overwhelming scale of the archive is intentional. Organisers say the physicality of the documents forces visitors to confront not only the extent of Epstein’s crimes, but also the number of lives affected by them.

Thousands of victims have been identified in connection with Epstein’s abuse network. One of the most prominent survivors, Virginia Giuffre, died by suicide in April 2025.

David Garrett, a co-founder of the exhibition, said the project was built around survivors from the outset.

“We are centred around the victims and survivors more than anything,” Garrett said. “The biggest thing is transparency and accountability.”

Garrett described the exhibition as part of a broader effort to create “real-life pop-up museums” aimed at generating public pressure around corruption and institutional failure.

“Our goal is how can we drive public outrage in order to put pressure on Congress and the Department of Justice to get full and real transparency and hopefully eventually accountability,” he said.

The process of assembling the archive was itself chaotic. Garrett said organisers downloaded the files from the Department of Justice in March, believing they had received properly redacted documents. Only after printing the collection did they discover that many survivors’ names remained visible in the files.

“What seems to have happened is the Department of Justice modified its search function instead of actually redacting the names,” Garrett said. “The names of survivors were left unredacted while the names of witnesses and co-conspirators were hidden. They brazenly broke the law.”

Finding a venue also proved difficult. Garrett said several locations backed out after initially agreeing to host the exhibit, fearing controversy or retaliation. The Tribeca gallery ultimately became the fifth venue that organisers approached.

Despite these challenges, survivors and advocates quickly embraced the project.

On Tuesday, the gallery became the site of a 24-hour livestream reading of the files led by survivors, advocates and supporters.

Dani Bensky, an Epstein survivor, opened the broadcast Monday afternoon, standing at a podium inside the dimly lit gallery with one of the thick white volumes in her hands.

Her reading marked the beginning of a continuous public recitation of excerpts from the files – an attempt, organisers said, to ensure the documents are not quietly buried again.

Throughout the gallery, visitors have left flowers, handwritten notes, and messages of grief and anger.

Garrett recalled one woman who spent hours walking silently through the space before telling organisers she was herself a survivor of sexual abuse.

“She said this helped her realise that she felt seen,” Garrett said. “That meant a lot to us.”

For Blume McGee, that feeling of visibility carries both relief and frustration.

“For years we were told to be quiet, to accept settlements, to move on,” she told Al Jazeera. “Seeing our truths preserved in a public archive felt like a long-overdue acknowledgment of our pain, our abuse and our reality.”

But she warned that documentation alone is not justice.

“This exhibition gives real hope because the record is now undeniable,” Blume McGee said. “Finally, there is action: documentation, visibility, proof. But those same files map systemic failure — how many doors stayed shut, how many people escaped scrutiny.”

“Visibility without consequence only prolongs the wound,” she added. “We need both: the files on the table and the government to act — investigate, prosecute, reform — so that being ‘finally seen’ becomes finally safe.”

Rawalpindi, Pakistan – On a cold January morning, Anum Shakoor gallops across a field, wrapped in a black shawl that billows behind her as she charges forward, a 1.8-metre (6ft) lance gripped tightly in her hand.

The 30-year-old has already claimed her first peg. The second lies close ahead.

Her horse tears across the dry earth, kicking up a cloud of dust that hangs in the air as she charges forward. A few metres out, Shakoor lowers the lance, steadying her aim and bracing for impact.

She misses by 2.5cm (1 inch).

A collective gasp ripples through the crowded bleachers. Many onlookers shake their heads. Some look away.

Shakoor exhales and slows her horse to a walk. Around her are the desolate, windswept fields on the outskirts of Rawalpindi in northern Punjab province.

And there are men, most of them wearing turbans. Men with “dhol” (drums) hanging from their necks. And men whose fathers had ridden before them and their fathers before their fathers. The men who take pride in the ancient sport, some of whom perhaps are not ready to accept that women are now participating in an overwhelmingly male “neza baazi”, or tent pegging, a high-stakes sport in which horse riders gallop across a field to pierce a buried wooden target.

The field is lined with thousands of male spectators, gathered to watch the teams of riders charging one after the other at a small wooden peg buried in the ground, trying to pierce it cleanly and carry it forward on their lance.

The event is known as a “mela” in Punjabi, a carnival-like competition typically held on the outskirts of the garrison city.

The beat of drums intertwined with the sharp bursts of the shehnai (oboe), traditionally played in weddings, pierces the cold winter air. Salespeople call out to the crowds from bustling stalls selling cardamom tea and varieties of fried fritters.

Before the competition starts, riders mount their adorned horses, some of which are dressed in embroidered velvet gowns. Others have braided manes or brass bells ringing softly at their necks.

One of the 74 teams competing in this year’s mela is Shakoor’s Bint-e-Zahra Club, Pakistan’s first female-only tent-pegging club. It has three other riders: Eshal Ibrahim and Noor un Nisa Malik, both 16, and Sehrish Awan, a 32-year-old mother of two competing for the first time in a mela.

Shakoor says the club was formed in 2025 after she reached a “frustrating realisation” that female riders practised and played only in mixed clubs. “We wanted to give women riders a stage for training so they can form a community,” she says.

The women are an unusual sight at a competition that has almost entirely male riding teams, mainly male fans and even male musicians.

So when Bint-e-Zahra’s members prepare to make their run, the audience is in for a rare sight. Photographers, vloggers and locals rush to film them, surrounding them from all sides.

Ibrahim is accompanied by her mother, who trails closely behind her, keeping a careful eye on her teenage daughter.

“I cannot even take pictures of her in the crowd,” says Fatima Adeel, who accompanies Ibrahim to every mela. “I am in charge of her. I cannot leave a teenage girl alone in a sea of men.”

Shakoor agrees.

“Any woman who wants to come in this sport should be encouraged so she can gain the respect she deserves in the sport,” she says. “Our society cannot bear a woman’s lead in any field.”

‘No concept of a player’

Several kilometres away, Ayesha Khan, 22, gallops on Sawa, the horse she has ridden since she was eight, for a practice run with her club.

She was 17 when her father encouraged her to try out for the women’s national team. A year later, she was the only woman selected for Pakistan’s under-21 mixed gender team and was sent to South Africa for a tournament to compete against a team that had four girls and one boy.

“I was hit with the realisation of how tent pegging is conditioned to appear masculine in Pakistan. But my father and brothers taught me riding when I was five. I used to be the only child riding a horse between adults,” Khan says, describing herself as “addicted” to riding.

Khan joined the women’s team in 2022 and quickly worked her way up to becoming its captain. That same year, she took the women’s team to Jordan, where it competed against 13 countries.

“We came third,” Khan recalls proudly. “Yet that was the only trip that the Pakistani women’s team competed in internationally. Before that trip, never. After that, never again.”

In 2024, the International Tent Pegging Federation organised an open international competition in Jordan. Pakistan sent a men-only team although the event was open to women. It was simply assumed that only men would want to go.

“In Pakistan, we don’t have the concept of a player,” Khan tells Al Jazeera. “We have the concept of male and female. Unless there is a women-only event, our federation exclusively sends male teams.”

But Khan persisted. At 20, she became the first Pakistani woman to compete against and beat 70 male riders at a mela. Today, she captains Pakistan’s only all-women tent pegging team.

How women entered the sport

The event near Rawalpindi that Shakoor attended was organised by Samiullah Barsa, a 27-year-old United States national of Pakistani origin, as part of his wedding celebrations.

“No wedding is complete without neza baazi,” says Barsa, who is dressed in a blazing red waistcoat and cowboy boots.

His family emigrated in the 1980s from the Punjab city of Gujrat to the US state of Ohio, where they own a stable and host annual melas. Last year, their mela drew more than 2,000 visitors, Barsa says.

Barsa recalls the first time he saw women compete in tent pegging. In 2015, he attended a mela at Kot Fateh Khan in Attock district, an hour from the capital, Islamabad, and the hometown of Malik Ata, fondly remembered as “Baba-e neza baazi” (the father of tent pegging).

Ata was a politician who came from an influential feudal family in Kot Fateh Khan. He was also a legendary equestrian who organised grand melas and invited hundreds of teams from across Pakistan to compete in various equestrian sports, including neza baazi.

At the first such grand mela, Ata invited the Australian women’s tent-pegging team, setting the stage for Pakistani women to embrace the sport.

In 2021, the Equestrian Federation of Pakistan, established by Ata, sponsored six girls to train under a South African coach. Khan was among those who made the journey to South Africa. She credits Ata for laying the roots of female participation in Pakistani tent pegging.

Barsa says Ata’s contribution to the sport cannot be denied and it was time for women to have their own teams.

“Everywhere along the world, women and men have separate competition. For instance, in football or in cricket, have you ever seen women competing against men?” he asks. “When female teams lose against male teams, they lose hope and don’t come forward.”

But has it been easy for women to pursue the sport?

Not really, both Khan and Shakoor say.

‘I never gave up’

Shakoor says there is tremendous social pressure on girls and women to conform to roles defined by the patriarchy.

“My mother has told me multiple times that I have to get married. But since I am part of such a manly sport, she worries how will I get good proposals. My sister did so too, but I never gave up,” she says.

“My brother stood up for me and told my mother that I am excelling in my passion. He asked her to let me live my life.”

Khan is relatively young, so marriage is not a concern for now. But she has heard relatives whisper to her mother: “It is probably just a phase. She should focus on her studies.”

Before going to a mela, Khan tries to find out details about the organisers. With the events often spanning two or three days, she also asks whether there are separate enclosures for women. Most riding fields have none or few restrooms or spaces for prayers for women.

In Pakistan, tent pegging is mainly played in northern Punjab, where villages and spacious fields stretch along the Ravi River, allowing the horses to freely run.

Khan says many girls have reached out to her wanting to pursue tent pegging. But most of them don’t have family support. And then there are financial and structural obstacles, which compound women’s lack of access to the sport.

“Not everyone has the privilege of owning a horse, especially women, who are already restricted by society,” Ibrahim says.

Even if you are able to own one, there is a significant cost attached to their upkeep. A horse’s monthly feed averages 30,000 to 35,000 Pakistani rupees ($107 to $125), which is nearly the monthly minimum wage in Punjab. Caretaker fees and rental charges more than double that amount.

“It’s a class thing. Everything related to horses is,” Khan says. A sporting horse costs about $1,500 in Pakistan.

Shakoor agrees. She says she was able to buy a horse after saving from her monthly salary as a manager for a global microfinance network. “You can’t put a price on passion,” she says, using a Punjabi saying.

She says she puts her horse before everything, even her own meals or health. “If I am sick, I do not care about my medicine,” she says. “But I lose sleep if my horse is sick.”

But the high cost of the sport also means many opportunities are lost. Shakoor says she has missed several tent-pegging events because she could not afford to haul her horse across cities for multiple days of competitions.

“Had I had any financial support through sponsorship, I would not have missed those events,” she says.

For Barsa’s event alone, Shakoor’s team spent more than 100,000 rupees ($358), which included the cost of transporting five horses, their feed and lodging.

Similarly, at the national tent pegging trials, every rider must bring their own horse, a rule that shuts out anyone who cannot afford transport, let alone own a horse.

Awan, the 32-year-old mother of two children, used to ride horses as a hobby and began visiting melas to observe how tent pegging was played. Intrigued by the sport, she reached out to Shakoor on Instagram, asking to become a member of Bint-e-Zahra.

In recent years, videos featuring female riders have gained millions of views on Instagram and TikTok, sometimes surpassing their male counterparts. Khan and Zoya Mir, the vice captain of the national tent pegging team, run joint TikTok and Instagram accounts, Equestrians In Green, where they post about their sporting victories.

Some videos show the women playing neza baazi in slow motion, picking up a peg mid-gallop or emerging from clouds of dust dressed in their club’s gear, often set to trendy music and paired with captions that challenge the stereotypical association of horse riding with men. Some of these videos have millions of views.

But the social media visibility also comes at a cost.

Khan recalls a viral video of women riders wearing turbans at a mela, causing a backlash from veteran male riders who claimed “women were polluting the sport.”

The turban, traditionally worn by men as a mark of their social position as well as a defining part of a horse rider’s identity, takes on an added significance in neza baazi. For some, women wearing it is seen as a challenge to a space long associated with male authority.

But the riders at the Rawalpindi mela push ahead despite the vitriol. They wear their turbans with pride – Awan tying hers over a red niqab that covers half of her face while Shakoor has hers pulled low, the way her mentor taught her.

Shakoor pulls up a photo from her Instagram account, which has more than 8,000 followers. Two riders wearing turbans pluck a peg side by side. The dip of their lances, the slight sway of their bodies, the moment of lift are all nearly identical.

“This is a picture of me with my mentor Chaudry Nazakat Hussain, my true inspiration,” she says. “He encouraged me to create Bint-e-Zahra.”

Last year, a mela held in Jathli in Rawalpindi’s Tehsil Gujjar Khan had 50 participating teams with nearly 200 riders – all male except Shakoor, Ibrahim and Malik. Representing the Bint-e-Zahra Club, Shakoor fought her way into the last seven in the team captains’ round, which is a recent addition in melas in which the captain of each club runs for a position.

Shakoor, the only woman among the final seven qualifying riders, did not secure a position but considers being included a feat nonetheless. “In the captains’ round, horses are assigned to riders randomly. This minimises odds of performing better. A sportsman is known for their skill, not their horse,” she says.

Of all the lessons the sport has taught her, Shakoor says the most valuable has been courage.

“This is a sport of the brave. If you don’t have the heart for it, it’s not for you,” she says. “Passion and dedication have no gender. … We don’t want to prove we are better than men. We only want equal respect.”

JASON ISBELL is a song writer’s song writer. You can tell by the company he keeps.

He’ll never forget the moment some years ago when he heard a certain person singing one of his choruses back to him in unmistakeable tones.

“I’ve grown tired of travelling alone. Won’t you ride with me? Won’t you ride? Won’t you ride? ”

Isbell recalls: “At first, I thought it was somebody doing a Bruce Springsteen impersonation of singing my song. And then I realised, ‘No, that’s actually him!’

“It was a huge deal for me to meet Bruce, and for him to know who I was.”

Turned out that one of Springsteen’s sons had brought to his dad’s attention Isbell’s breakthrough 2013 solo album Southeastern, complete with the track Traveling Alone.

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To the 47-year-old born in northern Alabama, two miles from the Tennessee state line, it was validation — just like his six Grammys and the fact that Southeastern appears in Rolling Stone magazine’s list of greatest albums of all time.

“I’m a punk but I’m not that big of a punk to pretend something’s not an honour,” the one-time member of Drive-By Truckers decides in his Southern drawl.

“I met Randy Newman and it was the same kind of thing,” he continues, casting his mind back to the 2021 Newport Folk Festival when both artists were on the same bill.

“I was so nervous to talk to Randy but I said to him, ‘Man, your songs are very important to me as a musician, as a human being’ — and he leaned in and said, ‘I like your songs, too’.

“I knew Randy was probably not the sort of person to bulls**t you.”

I’m speaking to Isbell as he prepares to hit these shores with his ace band, The 400 Unit, for a tour of the UK and Ireland which culminates with a night at London’s hallowed Royal Albert Hall on June 11.

But on this day, the hard- working singer is in Dallas for a solo acoustic show, showcasing last year’s captivating, intimate Foxes In The Snow album, when we’re connected via video call.

“My flight was cancelled last night because of bad weather so I drove here — took me nine and a half hours,” he reports from his hotel.

It’s 10am US Central Time and 4pm UK time and, despite the previous day’s exertions, Isbell seems fresh and focused for a deep dive into his life in music — and the songs that define him.

It’s clear from talking to this thoughtful soul that his career can be divided into two distinct categories — before and after he got sober — which he describes in depth later.

But first, we go back to his early life as the son of teenage parents, the subject of his song Children Of Children, and his early introduction to music.

Mom Angela was 17 and dad Mike was 19 when he was born so “I got to spend a lot of time with my grandad, who preached in a Pentecostal church in Alabama, and played guitar, mandolin, fiddle, banjo.

“And my uncle, my dad’s little brother, played guitar in a rock band.

“When I was around four, my parents would take me to band practice in his friend’s garage, and I would fall asleep, usually when they did Neil Young’s Like A ­Hurricane.

“Though my dad and mom didn’t play music, pretty much everybody else in my family did, at least as a hobby. It was seen as a birthright thing.

“I know this sounds like down-home Southern horses**t, but my grandad would make me play gospel music with him for a ­couple of hours a day.

“Then if I could get through it without getting lazy, I could play rhythm guitar. The guitar was huge, and I was small, and it would take a lot of work.”

Isbell became “obsessed” with blues after hearing Robert Johnson’s recordings and “this little white kid from a hillbilly town” would bombard his music teacher with questions about the Mississippi Delta pioneers.

“My teacher was a big rock and roll guy who had a different Rolling Stones T-shirt for every day of the week,” he says.

“He would call me out of class on the loudspeaker in a really gruff voice, so it sounded like I was in trouble. But I knew that he had made me a mixtape.

“There were a lot of people who took an interest in me early on. I got very lucky that way.”

As a teenager in the Eighties, “radio was huge” for Isbell, who singles out Crowded House and Elvis Costello in particular.

“As my parents were not much older than me, we listened to a lot of the same music,” he says.

“In those days, it was big arena bands like Journey and Foreigner, My dad liked country music, too, so he had Merle Haggard and Hank Williams records.”

At this time, Isbell started playing bars in the Southern music mecca of Florence and Muscle Shoals, which, “because of the liquor laws”, also had to sell food.

He says: “They would check the receipts to make sure you sold more food than alcohol, which was terrible for any kind of music scene — but really good for a 15-year-old kid because they couldn’t kick me out!”

In these places, he got to see legendary session men like Spooner Oldham, Donnie Fritts and, crucially, bass player and trombonist David Hood, father of Drive-By Truckers frontman Patterson Hood.

In 2001, Isbell joined the Truckers and hit the ground running by contributing two outstanding songs to their 2003 album Decoration Day, the title track and Outfit.

He says: “I liked playing guitar and singing background vocals, but I had a lot to prove.”

He describes how his dark, Southern gothic magnum opus about a multi-generational family feud came into being: “I wrote Decoration Day on the road, in Carbondale, Illinois, I think.

“We were staying at a friend’s and everybody else was asleep in the house.

“One person always had to sleep in the van to stop people stealing our gear. That night, it was me.

“I woke up early — around eight o’clock in the morning. So I had a couple of hours before everybody else started moving and I came up with Decoration Day.”

Another memorable Drive-By Truckers effort by Isbell is Danko/Manuel, his tribute to roots rock icons The Band, which appeared on the 2004 album The Dirty South.

He says: “At the time, Rick Danko and Richard Manuel were the only two not still alive. Now, none of them are.

“I was reading [drummer] Levon Helm’s book, This Wheel’s On Fire. He talked about having to siphon gas out of cars in parking lots while the rest of them were on stage. They were a bunch of feral kids in the early days.”

In 2007, largely thanks to heavy drinking and unreliable behaviour, Isbell left the Truckers and went solo.

It’s good to report that he’s on friendly terms with his old bandmates these days and joined them on stage last year for Stephen Colbert’s The Late Show.

He says: “We were very close at one point. It’s not easy to make friends in general so I try to keep the ones that I can.

“Even after I got sober, I didn’t quite know why I’d had drinking problems to start with.

“At first, you’re just hanging on for dear life and trying to stay sober. Eventually, if you do it right, you do repair the parts of yourself that you were ignoring.

“Once that happened for me, I was able to reconnect with those guys. We were able to be friends again and they’ve continued to make really valuable music.”

When it came to Isbell making his first solo album, Sirens Of The Ditch in 2007, highlighted by a couple of fan favourites, Dress Blues and The Magician, he had a lot to learn — and fast.

“I didn’t know what the hell I was doing,” he sighs. “I know I had to argue a lot, which actually turned out to be a good thing.”

A big moment for him arrived with a yearning composition on his third album, Here We Rest (2011), his second with his band The 400 Unit and the last before he went into rehab for ­alcohol addiction.

To this day, Alabama Pines is one of his most performed live songs.

“When I wrote it, everything else in my life sucked,” he says. “It was a very dark time. I was in physical and psychological pain. Working on it was the most relief I got.”

He adds: “The complication in that song adds a lot of value to it — the fact that you’re yearning for a place that isn’t perfect.

“It’s a dynamic that finds its way into a lot of Drive-By Truckers’ work and a lot of my own. It’s very possible to miss a place that wasn’t necessarily all that good to you.

“That song doesn’t have a chorus, it never gets huge so it’s not an anthem. But it stands out in my solo work and I still like it. It has never let me down.”

Everything changed for Isbell after rehab and first notice of his sober approach is 2013’s breathtaking Southeastern with its enduring keepers, Cover Me Up, Stockholm, Elephant and the aforementioned Traveling Alone.

“I wasn’t in the same type of pain,” he says. “Recovering from addiction heavily involved dealing with myself — my life, my emotions, my situation — not postponing it.

“When I was drinking, I would write until the sun went down and then I’d think, ‘I need a drink’.

“With Southeastern, I would stay working for hours and hours at a time because I didn’t have anything else to do. It’s not like I was going to the bar.”

The record proved a big commercial success even if a song like Cover Me Up, recently covered by Morgan Wallen, is about recovering from addiction and the healing power of love, while Elephant is an unflinching study of mortality and the impact of cancer.

Today, Isbell performs such tracks from a slightly different perspective.

“With a room full of people cheering for these songs, we get to celebrate the fact that these horribly sad songs exist,” he smiles.

Next, we rattle through a few more Isbell staples like 24 Frames from 2015’s Something More Than Free with its sparkling electric ­guitar passages.

“I may have doubled up two exact same slide-guitar parts on that. It’s the old George Harrison trick from My Sweet Lord and it works every f***ing time.”

He sees guitar playing as his “hobby”. “My girlfriend paints very seriously and that’s her work,” he says by way of example.

“Lately she started working with miniatures and building doll houses, and that’s her hobby. It’s very close to painting but it’s not a commercialised part of her life.

“That’s how I look at guitar playing. Singing, songwriting, touring — that’s my job. If left alone for a couple of hours, I just sit and play guitar — that’s my hobby.”

There’s a profound Isbell song on 2017’s The Nashville Sound, If We Were Vampires, a big favourite of his friend, the late, great singer John Prine, who he describes as “thoughtful, witty, highly intelligent and emotionally open”.

“There’s some magic in that song,” he says. “Everything else on the album was written when I thought, ‘There’s so many f***ing love songs, why would I bother to do another one?’

“By the time I got to the chorus of If We Were Vampires, something hit me — the reason you love somebody, go through all that effort and pain, is because you’re going to die.

“Without death, we wouldn’t be motivated to live. It was one of those moments where I was like, ‘Wow! Thank God I weaved my way to that path’.”

A telling Isbell insight is revealed by It Gets Easier with its line, “it gets easier, but it never gets easy”, from the 2020 album Reunions.

It addresses his sobriety and brings this reflection: “I don’t think about drinking as much as I used to, but I do sometimes, not necessarily when things are bad.

“When it is going badly, the first thing you do is you make a plan – talk to friends, talk to a therapist, go to a meeting.

“For quite a few years, the hardest times have been to not think about drinking when things are going really well.”

Isbell’s consistently fine recorded output includes 2023’s Weathervanes, with standouts like reflective acoustic ballad Cast Iron Skillet and gritty rocker King Of Oklahoma, about the downward spiral of a blue-collar worker who turns to prescription meds.

Mention of them is cue for him to offer a warning to those attending his upcoming shows.

“When I’m writing a record, I think, ‘How am I going to make these people hold their pee for four more minutes?’

“Because when the new material comes out, that’s usually when everybody heads to the bar!”

• Jason Isbell & The 400 Unit play Belfast June 2, Dublin June 3, Bristol June 5, Gateshead June 6, Glasgow June 7, Manchester June 8, Birmingham June 10 and London’s Royal Albert Hall June 11

Nouakchott, Mauritania – Across a vast stretch of the Sahel and West Africa, armed groups are expanding their reach, military governments are replacing fragile democracies, and “counterterrorism” efforts continue to contend with armed violence, often rooted in poverty and challenging living conditions.

While the Sahel has become synonymous with instability, tucked between the region and the Atlantic coast sits Mauritania, a country that has somehow managed to douse the flame. The explanation for this resilience often begins with a woman in a headscarf sitting across from a young man or a woman in a prison cell, talking about God.

Mauritania’s mourchidates are female Islamic spiritual guides, trained, certified, and deployed by the state under the Ministry of Islamic Affairs since 2021. They are not a new phenomenon, as the programme has its roots in Morocco.

Morocco’s mourchidates were introduced after the 2003 Casablanca bombings, a series of coordinated attacks in the Moroccan city that killed dozens and injured hundreds, as part of a broader religious reform.

Youssra Biare, a Moroccan researcher, states: “Morocco’s mourchidates offer one of the most established examples of women’s religious leadership as a tool for peace-building and preventing violent ‘extremism’.”

Since the programme’s launch in 2006, Morocco’s mourchidates have received formal theological and social training, which enables them to provide religious guidance and family counselling.

“Beyond their role in countering extremist narratives, they address the social and emotional factors that can make young people vulnerable to radicalisation,” Biare told Al Jazeera.

“For countries such as Mauritania, the Moroccan model demonstrates how investing in well-trained female religious leaders can strengthen community trust, promote moderate religious discourse, and create culturally grounded approaches to youth de-radicalisation and social cohesion.”

The mourchidates operate across schools, youth centres, mosques, hospitals, and, critically, prisons. They provide religious counsel grounded in mainstream Islamic scholarship, challenge the theological justifications that armed groups use, and offer a credible alternative to their narratives.

What makes the programme distinctive is the involvement of women with dedicated religious scholarship. More than social workers with a passing familiarity with Islamic texts, the mourchidates are trained in Quranic interpretation, Islamic jurisprudence, and the history of theological thought.

When they sit with detainees convinced that violence is a religious obligation, they can engage on their own terms and dismantle those arguments point by point.

Prison as a battleground for ideas

Prisons have long been recognised globally as sites of radicalisation, where recruitment networks operate. Mauritania, however, has pursued a different approach. Inside its prisons, mourchidates engage detainees linked to armed groups operating in the Sahel region, including those convicted of planning or participating in attacks across Mauritania, as well as those joining radicalised groups in neighbouring countries.

Their work goes beyond pastoral care to critically engage prison populations on an ideological level. They sit with these people over extended periods, building trust and addressing the theological arguments that justified violence, such as the belief that attacks on civilians could be sanctioned in the name of religion.

By patiently challenging these interpretations and offering alternative readings of Islamic texts, the mourchidates gradually open space for detainees to reconsider their choices.

De-radicalisation, when it works, tends to be built on relationships. The mourchidates, through their close ties to communities, are often well-placed to build these relationships in ways that male guards, military officials, or even male religious scholars are not always able to.

A significant portion of what mourchidates do is preventive, operating in community spaces to reach young people before they become vulnerable to recruitment. Armed groups exploit unemployment, marginalisation, and legitimate grievances to draw young men and women to their cause, often using the language of faith.

Countering this radicalisation requires a coherent narrative more than a militaristic approach, and that is precisely what the mourchidates provide.

“One of the strengths of the Mauritanian model is that it understood early on that violent extremism cannot be addressed through security responses alone,” Aminata Dia, a Mauritanian founding member of Elles Du Sahel Network and the executive director of the nonprofit Malaama, told Al Jazeera.

“The country invested in prevention, religious dialogue and community trust-building, particularly through the mourchidates programme,” she said.

Yahia Elhoussein, a scholar who runs a maourchidate school in Nouakchott, told Al Jazeera that this approach works due to its credibility.

“The mourchidates were deployed by the Ministry of Islamic Affairs to different parts of the country, where they educated young people on the true teachings of Islam, such as tolerance, charity, and accountability, playing an important role in de-radicalisation without any use of force,” Elhoussein said.

Why Mauritania stands apart

The results, while difficult to quantify, are reflected in Mauritania’s regional trajectory. The country has not been immune to threats from armed groups, enduring attacks in the mid-to-late 2000s that pushed it to reassess its approach.

What followed was a comprehensive strategy combining intelligence, community engagement, religious reform, and programmes like the mourchidates. Since then, Mauritania has largely avoided the scale of attacks that have devastated its neighbours, such as Mali and Burkina Faso.

Security analysts point to Mauritania as a case study for a preventive model, investing in conditions that make radicalisation less likely rather than responding solely to violence. The mourchidates are central to that model.

None of this suggests that Mauritania has solved the problem, or that its approach is without limitations. The country faces governance challenges, while the broader Sahel region continues to experience expanding armed violence, poverty, displacement, and weak state presence, pressures that no single programme can fully address.

Critics note that the reach of the mourchidates, while meaningful, remains constrained by resources and scale.

There are also questions about how replicable this model is elsewhere. Morocco’s version has been partially adapted in other Muslim-majority countries, but conditions in Mauritania, a deeply religious society, such as respected female scholarship, credible state authority, and political will, make it unique.

In Burkina Faso, Mali, and Niger, replicating this model would require rebuilding trust between the state and the community, which appears to have eroded.

At a time when international counterterrorism policy in the Sahel is dominated by military presence, drone strikes, and external interventions, Mauritania’s experience offers a different lesson. Some of the most effective tools for preventing violent activism are not found in special forces and military operations but in trained women, armed with knowledge and patience.

“Mauritania’s mourchidates prove that community-based approaches can be more effective than any other approach,” said Elhoussein.

Israel and Argentina have launched a direct flight starting in November as the two countries boost their ties under Argentina’s far-right President Javier Milei and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu.

The twice-a-week flight comes as Israel is aggressively pushing to cement its geopolitical footprint in Latin America amid its growing international isolation and its entrenched image as an occupying power.

On May 7, Israel’s national carrier, El Al, opened bookings for a direct flight between Tel Aviv and Buenos Aires covering a distance of 12,000 kilometres (7,460 miles) – the longest route in the airline’s history.

However, the 16.5-hour journey is driven by political ambitions rather than mere commercial viability.

During a celebratory event in occupied East Jerusalem last month, Israeli Prime Minister Netanyahu welcomed Argentina’s Milei to hail the “first direct flight” between the two nations.

The event showcased a striking political alignment, further highlighted by the presence of US Ambassador Mike Huckabee, who jokingly promised to buy the first ticket and described the two leaders as US “President Donald Trump’s biggest friends”.

The route aims to translate the “Isaac Accords” – a Latin American framework inspired by the “Abraham Accords” – into tangible reality. Morocco and Sudan established diplomatic ties with Israel as part of the Abraham Accords signed under President Trump’s first term.

Championed behind the scenes by Rabbi Axel Wahnish, Argentina’s ambassador to Israel, the framework aims to establish strategic cooperation in security, counterterrorism, and artificial intelligence with Latin American nations, including Ecuador, Costa Rica and Paraguay.

Trading tech for legitimacy

Israel is acutely aware that its status as an occupying power, exacerbated by the genocidal war on Gaza, has severely damaged its international standing. To secure recognition and bypass boycotts, particularly from an increasingly critical Europe, Israel is leveraging its advanced military and surveillance technologies.

Ihab Jabarin, an analyst specialising in Israeli affairs, told Al Jazeera that Israel’s strategy has shifted.

“Israel’s moral image has completely eroded,” Jabarin said. “The logic now is: ‘you may not like us, but you need us.’ Israel is offering its expertise in cybersecurity, AI systems like Lavender, border management, and drones – technologies tested on Palestinian bodies and land – to countries grappling with internal conflicts and organised crime,” he told Al Jazeera.

Jabarin noted that Israel uses infrastructure – whether ports, underwater cables, or civilian aviation – as tools for national security and influence. “This flight is not just about transporting passengers; it is a permanent corridor for security and tech businessmen,” he explained.

This strategy of using technology and security to buy diplomatic loyalty mirrors Israel’s approach in Africa. It has forged close ties with Ethiopia, Kenya and Chad. Last December, Israel became the first country in the world to recognise Somaliland, a breakaway region of Somalia.

It has used smaller island states like Micronesia in the Asia Pacific to secure favourable votes at the United Nations and break its international isolation.

“Israel is trying to create a global network of interests that forces countries to weigh their relationship with Israel against their stance on the Palestinian cause,” Jabarin added. “It wants to make the world unable to live without it.”

The Milei-Netanyahu chemistry

The driving force behind this Latin American link is the ideological bond between Netanyahu and Milei. While left-wing leaders in the region, such as Brazil’s Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva, have severed ties or strongly condemned Israel’s actions in Gaza, Milei has embraced the Israeli narrative unconditionally.

For Milei, who declared himself the most Zionist president in the world in March, the alliance offers rapid positioning in the Middle East, closer ties to Washington lobbies, and a stance against Latin America’s traditional left. For Netanyahu, Milei offers unconditional emotional and symbolic support that Israel has largely lost in Europe.

“Netanyahu understands the value of a symbolic ally,” Jabarin said. “He needs leaders who can be marketed as proof that Israel can still forge ideological alliances, not just pragmatic ones. Argentina, under Milei, has become Israel’s most important ‘island of influence’.”

A ‘safe haven’ from war crime probes

The direct flight also serves a highly practical security purpose for Israel. With mounting legal challenges and arrest warrants targeting Israeli soldiers and officials in Europe over alleged war crimes in Gaza, the Tel Aviv-Buenos Aires route offers a crucial bypass.

On Tuesday, Israel’s far-right Finance Minister ⁠Bezalel Smotrich said he was informed that the ⁠International Criminal ⁠Court (ICC) ⁠had ⁠requested a warrant for his arrest. Prime Minister Netanyahu is also sought by the ICC for war crimes committed in Gaza.

Currently, travellers between the two countries rely on 21 to 33-hour transit flights through European hubs like Madrid or Paris.

Diego Ruzzarin, a Brazilian writer and analyst, argued that the project aims to secure hassle-free travel for Israelis, particularly military personnel, sparing them from international security interrogations or the risk of arrest in Europe.

Jabarin echoed this assessment, noting that the fear of legal pursuit in Europe is a significant concern within the Israeli establishment.

“The direct flight bypasses any potential legal harassment in Europe,” he said. “Latin America is now appearing in Israeli calculations as a more politically flexible space compared to rights-focused Europe.”

Economic risks and domestic pushback

Despite its strategic value, the flight faces significant logistical and economic hurdles. Because Israeli planes are banned from the airspace of several African nations, including Libya, the flights must take a costly detour over the Mediterranean and the Atlantic.

To mitigate the economic risks of the long-haul route, the Israeli government has taken the unusual step of granting El Al a 20-million-shekel ($5.4m) subsidy, spread over three years.

The success of the route will heavily depend on Argentina’s Jewish community – the largest in Latin America, estimated at up to 300,000. According to Sabre data, roughly 55,300 people travelled between the two countries in 2025, a 37 percent increase from 2024, but still below the 71,200 recorded in 2019.

The project has sparked domestic criticism in both countries. In Israel, the transport ministry reportedly warned that pulling Boeing 787 Dreamliners from highly profitable US routes to service Buenos Aires could drive up ticket prices for Israelis travelling to North America.

In Argentina, left-wing congresswoman Myriam Bregman accused Milei’s government of dragging the country into an “imperialist war” without congressional approval, warning of a constitutional overreach.

Furthermore, the influx of Israeli tourists, many of whom are recently discharged soldiers, has caused friction in southern Argentina. Local residents and activists have blamed Israeli tourists for devastating fires in the Patagonia nature reserves due to negligence, the most recent being a massive blaze in January 2026 that destroyed 77,000 hectares (190,000 acres) and led to the arrest of an Israeli tourist.

For Israelis, however, an El Al flight to Buenos Aires carries profound historical symbolism. In May 1960, the Mossad used an official El Al flight to smuggle captured former Nazi official Adolf Eichmann out of Argentina to face trial and execution in Israel.

On Tuesday, voters in Pennsylvania’s third congressional district — which encompasses much of Philadelphia’s urban core — will decide what kind of progressive champion they want representing them in the United States House of Representatives.

Four candidates are vying for the Democratic nomination in Tuesday’s primary. They include state Representative Chris Rabb, state Senator Sharif Street, pediatric surgeon Ala Stanford and lawyer Shaun Griffith.

On the whole, all four campaigns are markedly progressive, focusing on issues such as expanding healthcare, affordability and housing.

But supporters say the race exposes the fault lines within the Democratic Party as it seeks to rally opposition to Republican President Donald Trump in the 2026 midterm cycle.

Marc Stier, who served as the director of the Pennsylvania Policy Center, a progressive think tank, until earlier this year, noted that there are few differences in the candidates’ platforms.

“They’re all opposed to Donald Trump. They’re all talking about civil rights, healthcare and voting rights,” said Stier, who backs Rabb. “So the differences aren’t that great.”

But the race has drawn nationwide attention, including endorsements from top Democrats.

For Stier and other local experts and leaders, the divisions come down to a duel between ideals and pragmatism — and how the candidates wish to be perceived along that spectrum.

A Democratic stronghold

The primary is highly symbolic for the Democratic Party. Pennsylvania’s third congressional district is considered one of the most left-leaning areas in the US.

According to The Cook Political Report, the district was 40 percentage points more Democratic than the national average in the most recent presidential election.

That makes it a key party stronghold in a pivotal swing state: Pennsylvania has alternated between voting Democratic and Republican in the last four presidential races, most recently siding with Trump.

Since 2016, Democrat Dwight Evans has represented the area. But in June, he announced he would not seek reelection after holding congressional office for a decade.

That opened a gateway to a heated primary, with no incumbent to lead the pack.

Street, Rabb and Stanford are considered the frontrunners. No independent polling has been conducted in the race, but surveys gathered by the candidates or their supporters show a volatile three-way contest.

An April poll sponsored by 314 Action, a group supporting Stanford, found the surgeon leading with 28 percent of voter support, followed by Rabb at 23 percent and Street at 16 percent.

Meanwhile, a November survey sponsored by Street found the state senator ahead with 22 percent support, ahead of Rabb at 17 percent and Stanford at 11.

A three-way race

Each of the three candidates has positioned themselves as the Democrat who will shake up the status quo and deliver results.

“The same old politics and the same old politicians are not going to cut it,” Stanford declared at a forum hosted by WHYY public radio in February.

“We need people who step up in a storm, who lead when others wilt away, and that’s what I’ve done and will do for this city.”

There are differences, however, in how the candidates are presenting themselves.

Stanford is campaigning as the political outsider whose public health advocacy offered critical leadership during the COVID-19 pandemic. This is her first political run.

Street, on the other hand, is seen as the political veteran backed by party leadership. He first entered the state Senate in 2017, becoming the first Muslim elected to the chamber, and his father was a former Philadelphia mayor.

Then there’s Rabb, a democratic socialist who has positioned himself as the firebrand progressive in the mould of New York Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez.

He, too, has served in government since 2017, representing northwest Philadelphia in the state House of Representatives.

All three have embraced progressive rallying cries, such as increasing affordable housing, widening access to healthcare, and abolishing Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE), an agency accused of racial profiling and violent tactics.

But Street has set himself apart by wedding his reputation to the Democratic establishment. From 2022 to 2025, he served as chair of the Pennsylvania Democratic Party.

“Street has very strong relationships with the political machine here: the party establishment, the ward leaders and committee people, and other legislators,” Stier said.

Supporters weigh in

But amid the frustration with the Democratic Party, particularly after its defeat in the 2024 presidential race, Street’s opponents have sought to distance themselves from the left-wing establishment.

“Rabb clearly says his goal is to push the envelope on issues and build public support for bolder ideas than Street is likely to push forward,” said Stier.

But Stier acknowledges that some voters see progressives like Rabb as all talk and no action.

“As my ward leader says, Rabb is one of those people that makes a lot of speeches but doesn’t get much done,” Stier said.

He dismisses such remarks as hackneyed. “It’s the kind of standard attack that is made by the establishment against people who are very outspoken and don’t always get along with the party establishment in Harrisburg.”

But it is the kind of argument Lou Agre, a ward leader and retired lawyer, sympathises with.

Formerly the president of the Philadelphia Metal Trades Council, Agre is backing Street in the upcoming election. He is not convinced that Rabb’s progressive positions can lead to tangible results.

“Street has always stood behind organised labour,” Agre said.

To Agre, Street represents experience, while Rabb is heavy on rhetoric. “This is a race between a guy with a record and another guy who has a platform that he’s using to get a point across,” he explained.

Duelling endorsements

In many ways, local leaders say that the difference between Tuesday’s primary candidates comes back to familiar arguments that often divide centrist and progressive Democrats.

Those labels have, in part, translated into endorsements — and behind-the-scenes party battles.

The news outlet Axios reported this month that Pennsylvania Governor Josh Shapiro privately warned local building trade unions that attacking Stanford could inadvertently help Rabb, who has been critical of the governor.

Rabb, meanwhile, has earned the endorsements of some of the country’s most prominent progressives, including Ocasio-Cortez, Representative Ilhan Omar and Senator Chris Van Hollen.

Street, by contrast, has become the candidate of choice for some of Philadelphia’s biggest power brokers, including local labour unions, city council members and Mayor Cherelle Parker.

For her part, Stanford has scored the endorsement of the outgoing congressman, Evans, whom all three hope to succeed.

Tuesday’s primary will be key. The winner will almost certainly prevail in the general election in November. No Republicans have come forward with a bid.

But with the race split narrowly between the three candidates, the outcome may ultimately boil down to turnout, and which candidate can rally the most supporters.

“If people come out to vote, if turnout is high in North and West Philadelphia, parts of the southwest and those neighbourhoods, then Sharif will win,” Agre said of his preferred candidate. “If not, who knows what will happen?”

He described Stanford, whom some have depicted as a middle ground between Street and Rabb, as a complicating factor in the race.

“Ala Stanford’s the wild card. Is she fading, or does she still have her slice of the electorate? I don’t know,” Agre said.

Stier, meanwhile, acknowledged that each of the three candidates has a path to victory.

“There are pockets of support for all these candidates,” Stier noted. But he thinks the more moderate approach of Street and Stanford may open a path for victory for Rabb.

“The winner of this race is not going to have a majority. Someone’s going to win this race with 35 to 40 percent of the vote,” he explained.

“And I think Rabb’s campaign is expecting that Stanford and Street will split the more centrist vote, and he will get all the progressive votes, and he’ll run to victory that way.”

The Palestinian group Fatah concluded its eighth General Conference late Saturday but the results of the elections of the group’s leadership bodies, the Central Committee and Revolutionary Council, were not announced until Monday afternoon. The delay compelled Wael Lafi, the head of the elections committee in the General Conference, who is also the legal advisor of the Palestinian President, to defend the process and delay.

Even before convening, questions about membership, funding, and the general political direction of the group – which dominates the Palestinian Authority – overshadowed preparations for the General Conference.

Sixty candidates competed for 18 seats in the Central Committee, Fatah’s highest leadership body.

Mahmoud Abbas, the 91-year-old Palestinian President, was unanimously voted as chair ahead of the vote, foreshadowing the results of the elections and Abbas’s tightening grip on power.

Dr Nasser al-Qudwa, who was the only member of the Central Committee to boycott the General Conference, told Al Jazeera, “Mahmoud Abbas engineered this meeting to produce the outcome he wants and he succeeded”. Many Fatah members agree with that assessment.

The election results of Fatah’s top body saw the replacement of half of the incumbent old guard. Those included all but one of Gaza’s representatives in the Central Committee, with Ahmed Hilles, a close ally of Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas, the only one remaining.

Abbas’s close ally and intelligence chief, Majed Faraj, also won a seat on the Central Committee. Faraj is seen by many in Fatah as a competitor to Hussein al-Sheikh, who Abbas appointed as vice president a year ago.

Another signal of Abbas’s grip on the Congress was the nomination and victory of his son, Yasser, to the Central Committee. That was despite the fact that Yasser Abbas has never held a leadership position at any level in Fatah, and the development has overshadowed Fatah’s argument that the Congress was a sign of democratic vitality and inclusion.

Palestinian detainees secured three seats in Fatah’s top leadership body, with Marwan Barghouti – imprisoned by Israel for more than 20 years – earning the highest number of votes among all competitors.

Another winner is Zakariya al-Zubaidi, a prominent Fatah figure who has been imprisoned repeatedly by Israel over the years. Al-Zubaidi notoriously escaped with five other Palestinian prisoners from Gilboa prison in 2021 only to be recaptured and then freed again in one of the prisoner exchange deals struck between Israel and Hamas during the Gaza genocide.

Fatah and Hamas make up the two main Palestinian political factions, with Hamas dominant in Gaza, and Fatah in the occupied West Bank.

Victory for Abbas?

There were 450 members competing for the 80 seats of the Revolutionary Council, which serves as Fatah’s legislator and in theory has strong sway over Fatah policy choices.

However, the winners appear to be dominated by the party’s insiders.

Absent from the Central Committee for the first time is a representative of Fatah outside Palestine, which is seen by many as a worrying precedent for a movement that has followers across the widespread Palestinian diaspora.

But the new Central Committee has an abundance of technocrats and senior officials working in the Palestinian Authority (PA), like the popular Ramallah Governor Laila Ghannam or the head of the PA’s General Personnel Council Musa Abu Zaid.

“These are not leaders. They are employees. They will do as ordered,” one Fatah official, who spoke to Al Jazeera on condition of anonymity, said.

Dr al-Qudwa views the results as a victory for the Palestinian president, not Fatah.

“President Abbas is the biggest winner,” al-Qudwa said. “He succeeded in completely subduing Fatah to his will.”

A significant proportion of the winners are also current or former PA employees, especially in the security sector.

Most of the old guard were replaced by younger members, but many of that new cohort themselves rose through the ranks of Fatah’s youth movement. Several sons and daughters of former Fatah leaders were also elected despite having no history of involvement or membership in the group, like the daughter of the late chief negotiator Saeb Erekat, Dalal.

Facing crises

Kifah Harb, a prominent Fatah figure who ran unsuccessfully for the Central Committee, confirmed to Al Jazeera that many members had concerns and misgivings about the organisational committee of the Congress.

But she struck a conciliatory tone about the process as a whole.

“As members of the Congress, we are leading members of Fatah and regardless the outcome of the elections, we must stand by it and help Fatah march forward in leading the Palestinian national movement,” Harb said. “There are no alternatives.”

Fatah’s Congress was closely followed by world governments and the Palestinian public, who saw the competition within the group play out in advertisements and posts on social media platforms.

Governments around the world see Fatah leaders as their Palestinian counterparts when it comes to bilateral relations, but Western governments are also demanding reforms in return for increased support to the Palestinian Authority.

Fatah leaders say the Congress is proof of their commitment to reform, pointing to the change of some names and a younger demographic emerging, even if the balance of power ultimately remained firmly in Abbas’s hands.

Whether that placates the international community is one matter, but Fatah will have a tough time getting the Palestinian public on side.

Fatah’s new leaders are faced with the task of resolving several chronic crises, including the PA’s inability to pay civil servants and Israel’s hostile policies – including the unlawful withholding of Palestinian tax revenues, unprecedented land grabs, settler attacks, and the Israeli-made humanitarian disaster becoming entrenched in Gaza.

On Monday, after the announcement of the election results, Fatah offered general policy lines in a statement, but provided no answers on the way forward.

And now it has to content with that future, and a public demand for presidential and legislative elections that will likely become more pressing – one of the many tests that awaits Fatah’s reformulated leadership.

Harare, Zimbabwe – Zimbabwe’s real estate and farming sectors are seeing a surge in diaspora-driven investment, with two young content creators quietly emerging as unexpected influencers shaping the trend.

Kundai Chitima, 31, and Kelvin Birioti, 20, each running their own social media channel, have built followings that seem to influence a growing number of Zimbabweans abroad considering return or investment.

On YouTube and Instagram, they share short videos and posts highlighting opportunities in Zimbabwe. Their popular content ranges from property tours and agricultural tips to market trend analysis.

For some in the diaspora, decisions about returning or investing increasingly appear to be shaped less by official narratives and more by social media content offering on-the-ground perspectives of life in Zimbabwe.

One of those influenced is Catherine Mutisi, who spent 17 years living in the United Kingdom working as an accountant. During that time, she had already begun investing in Zimbabwe, building two houses, buying a small plot and starting a business.

She said her thinking shifted after coming across Birioti’s content during construction.

“Gradually, my mind and plans shifted from just visiting Zimbabwe towards wanting to permanently relocate,” she said.

Mutisi said earlier narratives about Zimbabwe had made her cautious, but online content presented a different perspective.

“Previously, I was just building my houses for my family to get some money. But after watching the videos, my eyes opened,” she told Al Jazeera.

Her experience is not isolated. Both Chitima and Birioti say they hear similar accounts from the Zimbabwean diaspora reassessing their long-term plans.

UK-based Zimbabwean Nyashadzashe Nguwo, an Africa market entry and global expansion adviser, said many people like Mutisi are relocating to Zimbabwe due to what he described as a combination of emotional and lifestyle-driven factors.

“There’s a strong desire among many in the diaspora to reconnect with their roots and contribute meaningfully to national development. For some, the lower cost of living and the opportunity to build something impactful at home outweigh concerns about economic instability,” Nguwo told Al Jazeera.

Two influencers

After growing up in Chinhoyi, a town in northern Zimbabwe about 120km (75 miles) northwest of the capital, Harare, Birioti sought a new start and enrolled at Zimbabwe Ezekiel Guti University (ZEGU) in Bindura. He dropped out, however, due to financial challenges and decided to move to Harare.

There, he met Chitima and began learning content creation. From the outset, he said he avoided entertainment-style content, instead focusing on what he saw as an information gap.

“I saw a gap: the diaspora community was being scammed.”

He built his platform about real estate, rural development and farming projects, often working with diaspora Zimbabweans who granted access to their properties for documentation.

On the other hand, Chitima worked as a teacher in South Africa before returning to Zimbabwe in 2015.

He said workplace inequality influenced his choice: “We were earning lower than my South African colleagues. I thought of my dignity and made a decision to return home.”

Chitima returned to Zimbabwe with limited resources and a pregnant wife, entering a very different economic environment from the one he had left.

Before his time in South Africa, he had worked as a civil servant. After returning, he gradually moved into content creation, beginning in 2015 and later training younger creators who went on to build large audiences.

Today, he reflects on his platform as both educational and protective for diaspora audiences.

“I receive calls from people crying … they have been scammed.”

He says his content aims to replace uncertainty with grounded information about the realities and opportunities in Zimbabwe.

Economic pressure and unemployment

While no official figures are publicly available on the exact number of Zimbabweans leaving the country or their reasons for doing so, reports from the International Organization for Migration and independent migration studies indicate consistent migration.

The Zimbabwe National Statistics Agency (Zimstat) reported a 21.8 percent unemployment rate in the third quarter of 2024, based on strict International Labour Organization definitions.

Between 76 percent and 80 percent of workers are in the informal sector, relying on subsistence or unregulated employment. Youth unemployment is particularly acute: a 2025 World Bank report estimates it at 76.8 percent.

For many young people, stable employment is increasingly difficult to secure.

Susan Sibanda, 26, describes moving between short-term and informal work.

“I have been switching from one casual job to the next,” Sibanda said.

Her experience reflects a wider labour market where formal employment continues to shrink. In recent years, several big retailers, including Choppies, Truworths, OK Zimbabwe, and N Richards, have downsized or closed operations.

Emigration pressures remain strong

Against that backdrop, migration still features heavily in the decisions of young Zimbabweans.

Sibanda said she now considers that “leaving Zimbabwe is in my best interest”.

Economist Tashinga Kajiva said the story of emigration from Zimbabwe has largely remained high, driven by a combination of push and pull factors that encourage people to seek what they see as greener pastures.

“Zimbabwe’s economy is marked by complex and, some would say, difficult dynamics. For ordinary citizens, disposable income remains low while the cost of living continues to rise. The marginal propensity to save among working-class citizens is also low, as many are living hand to mouth,” he told Al Jazeera.

Zimbabwe’s diaspora is concentrated in South Africa, the United Kingdom, Australia, Canada, New Zealand and the United States, according to government figures.

Keeping ties alive from abroad

The economic link between Zimbabwe and its diaspora remains strong.

According to real estate agents, diaspora buyers now account for a significant share

They state that up to 50 percent of high-end residential properties sold were purchased by Zimbabweans living abroad in recent years. In some regions, land prices have risen by 20–30 percent year-on-year, a surge partly attributed to diaspora buyers.

Diaspora investment is also noticeable in agriculture. Reports from the Zimbabwe Farmers Union indicate that about 10-15 percent of new farm leases over the past two to three years involve diaspora investors, with activity concentrated in Mashonaland Central and Matabeleland regions.

Remittances reached $1.7bn in 2023 and continue to rise. In 2025, Zimbabweans abroad sent $2.45bn home, with the UK and South Africa the largest sources, according to government data. A significant portion of these funds is reportedly invested in real estate, agriculture, and small businesses.

This reflects both practical necessity and emotional attachment to home, as well as a preference for investing in familiar environments, according to economists.

Still, return seems to generate mixed reactions.

Some diaspora Zimbabweans appear cautious, citing political developments and recent protests abroad over governance concerns.

For them, financial ties to Zimbabwe are still strong, but physical return remains uncertain.

With social media reshaping perceptions of life in Zimbabwe, many in the diaspora remain caught between investment opportunities and the country’s economic realities.

As content creators like Chitima and Birioti reshape how some see opportunity in Zimbabwe, domestic economic pressures appear to be pushing others away, leaving the country’s relationship with its diaspora open-ended and still evolving.

“For many Zimbabweans living abroad, investing back home is not just about profit – it’s about staying connected to their roots and shaping the future of their communities,” said Chitima.

IN the weeks before we lost The Beach Boys’ Brian Wilson on June 11 last year, he had two special visitors. 

They were the group’s surviving founder members, his first cousin Mike Love, and his best friend from college, Al Jardine. 

It was their chance to say goodbye to the man who, above anyone, brought “good vibrations” to the world and created their 1966 magnum opus Pet Sounds. 

First to venture up the drive at Brian’s Beverly Hills mansion for one last time was Jardine.  

“I last saw him at the very end,” he says. “I came up to the house and he just pointed at me. 

“He said, ‘You started the band’, and I went, ‘Wait, come on, Brian, I’m sure you had a little something to do with it!’ 

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“He was very direct at times — he could be very unfiltered — but I think our friendship meant a lot to him. 

“He was always my best friend, right from when we started out.” 

Despite Brian’s well-documented struggles with mental health, Jardine insists that his old buddy never lost his passion for music. 

“His reputation remains solid,” he adds, before supplying an answer to his own question: “What’s the term? Legend.  

“His work will be appreciated for centuries to come. He had his own style. Just listen to his arrangements and his chord changes — they’re just so unusual.  

“His brother Dennis actually said it first, ‘Brian is The Beach Boys’. He created our sound and, as Mike Love would say, he heard things we couldn’t hear.” 

Of his last visit to Brian, Love says: “A couple of weeks before he passed away, I was able to go and see him. 

“We had a great time. We sang together, actually, which was a lot of fun.” 

Love leads the latest incarnation of The Beach Boys, keeping their songs alive in concert, including Pet Sounds classics God Only Knows, Wouldn’t It Be Nice and Sloop John B.  

“Brian’s still with us every night in that music,” he affirms 

If Brian, younger brothers Carl and Dennis, Mike and Al started out by singing about surfing, girls and open-top cars in the California sun, it was the elder Wilson sibling who took things to the next level with Pet Sounds. 

A themed song cycle employing pioneering production techniques, sublime harmonies, divine melodies and darker, soul-searching lyrics, it is regarded as Brian’s masterpiece.

He had been impressed with The Beatles’ sonic adventures on Rubber Soul — now he was pushing The Beach Boys to raise the bar higher, in turn inspiring their chart rivals to make Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. 

Paul McCartney maintains that God Only Knows is his favourite song and that Pet Sounds is among his top three albums.  

He once enthused: “The musical invention on that is, like, ‘Wow!’  

“I just thought, ‘Oh dear me, this is THE album of all time, what the hell are we gonna do?’” 

To mark its 60th anniversary, The Pet Sounds Sessions — including demos, alternate takes and outtakes — are receiving digital, CD and vinyl editions. They feature a host of a cappella tracks shining the spotlight on the breathtaking harmonies.  

Which is why I’m speaking to Brian’s bandmates via video calls that seem entirely appropriate for singers who epitomise California’s sunny beach vibes.  

As we’re connected, Love, 85, reports that he’s “driving down the Pacific Coast Highway outside of Malibu”. 

In a separate call, Jardine, 83, is sitting in his solarium under clear blue skies in Monterey, gateway to the rugged Big Sur coastal region. 

First, Love gives me insights into his Beach Boys journey, leading up to the groundbreaking Pet Sounds.  

His mother Glee was the sister of Murry Wilson, father of Brian, Carl and Dennis, “so every holiday — Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s, Fourth of July — and birthday was celebrated with music. 

“When Brian and I were teens, we’d get together and sing or listen to the radio, hearing groups like The Everly Brothers.” 

When they formed The Beach Boys, the clean-cut image involving surfing, sun and girls was, he says, “environmental because we lived a few miles from the sea”. 

Love continues: “We would often go to the beach for family outings. There, you’d find people who dressed a certain way, talked a certain way and had a certain attitude.  

“They were the surfers who inspired our first song, Surfin’ [released in 1961].” 

As to whether The Beach Boys joined the craze, he adds: “Dennis, Al and I had surfboards but we weren’t the greatest athletes. We appreciated it though, and we gave it a shot. 

“I’m not sure Brian ever tried it. He could only hear out of one ear and didn’t have much balance. You need all the balance you can get when you’re surfing.” 

Love recalls how he would “sit down at the piano with Brian while he figured out chord progressions, tempos and melodies.  

“I felt it was up to me to come up with lyrics and sing lead on songs we were working on together such as Surfin’ USA, I Get Around and Fun Fun Fun.” 

Jardine, who currently fronts The Pet Sounds Band of ace Brian Wilson associates, also casts his mind back to the early days but is interrupted by “actual pet sounds”. 

“Hang on a second, we have a little dog outside and he’s barking — I gotta shut him up,” he reports.  

When calm returns, I ask Jardine how he came to form a band with three brothers and their cousin in 1961.  

He answers: “Well, Brian and I were classmates in high school but didn’t really know each other. 

“We were on the football team — he was quarterback and I was full back. He would call the plays, either pitching the ball to me or somebody else. 

“But we didn’t interact until we went to college. I’d heard him in concert and, in our second year, I bumped into him on campus and said, ‘We gotta start a band’.  

“We walked over to the music room and started playing music for each other.  

“I’d already been in a folk group and, when he heard me sing, he realised I had a gift. 

“Then he said, ‘I’ve got my little brothers and my cousin, Mike. I’ll introduce you to them. I rented instruments from a local music store but we didn’t know how to express ourselves at first, so we just sang a cappella. 

“Once we finally got around the piano, we were off and running. 

“I soon realised that Brian was a fine-tuned instrument. He had a great voice, a great knack for composition and already had a duet thing going on with Mike.” 

As for the surfer image, Jardine credits Dennis Wilson, the family rebel who played the drums. He says: “Dennis was a surfer and the rest of us were land lovers. He taught me how to surf but I sank like a stone. 

“But surfing was the craze so we put lyrics to our first song and called it Surfin’.” 

In 1964, Brian dropped the bombshell that he was stepping back from touring to concentrate on studio work.  

Love provides this insight into his cousin’s state of mind: “Brian wasn’t comfortable on the road — he got nervous and unhappy. He missed home and he missed the studio. 

“It was a drag to see him leave the live group but it was in his best interests.” 

Afforded fewer distractions, Brian applied himself to Pet Sounds and, in tandem with it, the sophisticated sonic miracle Good Vibrations — a standalone hit deemed not a good fit for the album. 

This period coincided with his experiments with LSD and marijuana.  

He once stated that drugs helped him achieve a deeper level of creativity but later expressed regrets over the damage to his mental health. 

Because of the complexity, Brian needed longer than usual to finish Pet Sounds so The Beach Boys released a stopgap party album, yielding one of their biggest hits, Barbara Ann. 

Then, after a tour of Japan in January 1966, with Bruce Johnston taking Brian’s place, Carl, Dennis, Mike, Al and Bruce returned for the momentous sessions.  

In their absence, Brian had employed lyricist Tony Asher and crack session musicians the Wrecking Crew, including, among many, Glen Campbell on guitar and banjo. 

Love says: “The tracks Brian had done were completely amazing. Our main job was to finish them vocally and we worked very hard.” 

One of the songs was God Only Knows, which he says was “sung so beautifully by my cousin Carl”. 

“We lost him many years ago to lung cancer. For concerts these days, my son Christian sings lead.” 

So what was Carl like? “He was our musical director on stage and the most proficient musician in the group,” replies Love. 

Jardine adds: “Carl could knock it out of the park. He was right in the centre of our harmonies with Mike’s baritone below and me higher, with Brian higher still.” 

And what about Dennis, who had a wild reputation and later befriended cult leader and killer Charles Manson? 

Love says: “He lived a dangerous life because of the alcohol and drugs he got involved with. He died [from drowning] in 1983.” 

Jardine adds: “Dennis was our Keith Moon. Oh boy, all he had to do was just stand up on stage and the crowd would go nuts.” 

It was self-confessed folkie Jardine who brought Bahamian sea shanty Sloop John B to Brian. He says: “I was a Kingston Trio fan. They were big Capitol Records guys, same label as us, and they wore striped shirts.  

“Learning all their songs was my musical training. When the time came to start The Beach Boys, I went out and bought striped shirts for us. 

“Sloop John B was my idea. I said, ‘Brian, if we add one major and one minor chord, it’ll sound like us instead of The Kingston Trio’. 

“He put it to good use. It became Pet Sounds’ lead single. Capitol always wanted a hit to sell an album.” 

Recalling the sessions, Jardine says that Brian’s abilities had been “growing exponentially” while they’d been away. 

“In spite of our jet lag, we were in the studio the day after we got home from Japan. We were extremely impressed with Brian’s arrangements. 

“People forget that he was a masterful producer. He knew the language. He could go into a studio and the studio became an instrument for him.” 

That said, it wasn’t all plain sailing, as Jardine explains: “Mike didn’t like the lyrics on some songs so he insisted on changing a couple around.  

“He thought a song called Hang On To Your Ego was too sophisticated for our crowd so he changed it to I Know There’s An Answer.” 

The story of Pet Sounds wouldn’t be complete without mention of the album title and cover shot of the boys among the goats at San Diego Zoo. Love says: “Brian didn’t know what to call the album.

“At the end [of final track Caroline, No], you hear a train going by and dogs are barking.  

“Those were Brian and [first wife] Marilyn’s dogs. So I said, ‘Why don’t we call it Pet Sounds? It was a double entendre, of course — and it stuck.” 

Jardine picks up the story of the photo shoot: “It was a total mystery to me.  

“We had to drive to San Diego, which was 200 miles away. We had our own zoo in Los Angeles, for God’s sake!” 

The resulting album cover has a quaint charm but it’s not exactly up there with Sgt Pepper’s iconic Peter Blake design. 

Love smiles at the memory and says: “I was in India at the Maharishi’s place when Paul McCartney and I had a conversation one night. 

“He was saying, ‘Mike, you ought to take more care with your album covers’. 

“So I told him, ‘Paul, you’re absolutely right.

We should’. 

“But we always felt that what went into the sleeve was more important than the cover itself.” 

And speaking of goats, to many including Macca, Pet Sounds is the GOAT. 

THE BEACH BOYS 

The Pet Sounds Session Highlights 

★★★★★

Istanbul, Turkiye – When investigations by Al Jazeera and other media outlets in 2024 revealed that Israeli-linked artificial intelligence (AI) systems such as Lavender and Gospel had helped generate thousands of military targets in Gaza, critics warned that warfare was entering a new era – one driven not only by soldiers and bombs, but by algorithms, data, and surveillance technology.

Then, in September 2024, thousands of pagers and walkie-talkies used by members of Hezbollah exploded in coordinated attacks in Lebanon, widely attributed to Israeli intelligence operations that had turned ordinary communication devices into weapons.

And, last year, reporting by Al Jazeera also raised concerns about the use of cloud and data infrastructure linked to major US technology companies in Israeli surveillance operations involving Palestinians.

For a growing number of scholars, economists and political thinkers, such developments reflect more than just the changing nature of conflict. They show how power in the modern world is increasingly exercised not just through military force, but through technology, finance and control over information.

That argument has revived broader debates around decolonisation – a term historically associated with the dismantling of European empires after World War II, when countries across Asia, Africa and the Middle East gained formal independence.

But many proponents of what is termed “decolonial theory” – a school of thought arguing that colonial-era systems of power and hierarchy still shape modern politics, economics and knowledge – argue that colonial power structures never fully disappeared. Instead, they evolved, embedding themselves in global financial systems, technology platforms, media networks and even the production of knowledge itself.

Dependence of Global South countries on Western technology, digital infrastructure and global markets can create new forms of political and economic vulnerability, particularly across the Global South.

“A generation may have grown up believing they had never experienced colonialism or exploitation,” Esra Albayrak, board chair of the NUN Foundation for Education and Culture and daughter of Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan, told Al Jazeera during the World Decolonization Forum in Istanbul on May 11-12.

“Yet, mentally, they may still be living under colonial influence.”

The war in Gaza marked a turning point, Albayrak says, shining a spotlight on how international principles are not applied equally. Global institutions have so far failed to stop what many countries and rights groups have described as genocide against Palestinians.

“The world is sounding an alarm, and we can no longer afford to remain indifferent to it,” she said.

A techno-feudal era

Albayrak argues that a handful of technology companies are emerging as new, invisible centres of power, shaping how information is produced, circulated and consumed in the digital age.

She describes the digital sphere as the realm of what she calls “future colonialism”, warning that AI systems trained largely on Western-centric data risk reinforcing existing global inequalities.

“When AI systems are run by those tech companies and trained on Western sources, they risk carrying the hierarchies of the past into tomorrow’s digital world, as they now have personalised data, suppressing identity,” Albayrak said.

By this, she means that most major AI models are still trained largely on English-language and Western-produced data – a pattern critics say risks sidelining non-Western languages, cultures and perspectives.

On social media platforms, algorithms tend to amplify some conflicts while rendering others nearly invisible, effectively shaping what billions of users see, discuss and remember online.

Walter D Mignolo, professor at Duke University, argues that while what we historically see as “formal colonialism” may have largely ended, systems of Western dominance continue through economics, culture, technology and knowledge production.

“Coloniality is not over. It is all over the world,” Mignolo said, arguing that modern ideas of development and progress often have the effect of pressuring societies to conform to Western norms.

Rather than simply resisting those systems, he said, societies must find a way to “re-exist” by rebuilding intellectual and cultural autonomy outside dominant global frameworks.

Colonisers in the financial age

The March 2026 Global Debt Report by the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) reveals that 44 countries face severe debt burdens, often aggravated by global conflicts, forcing some governments to spend more on interest payments than on health or education.

This is not a new phenomenon, as developing countries have been labouring under the weight of foreign debt for decades.

But British political economist and author Ann Pettifor told Al Jazeera that modern forms of domination are now increasingly embedded not in empires or nation-states, but in financial systems operating beyond democratic oversight.

Pettifor points to the growing influence of “shadow” banking networks – financial institutions operating largely outside traditional banking regulations – and giant asset managers such as BlackRock, which manages $13 trillion in assets.

Much of the global financial architecture now functions largely outside the regulatory control of governments, she says, including that of Western states themselves.

“This is not a state colonising other states,” Pettifor said. “This is the financial system colonising the whole world, including my country and the US.”

She argues that elected governments increasingly struggle to control key economic realities – from energy prices to commodity markets – because those systems are dictated by global financial actors operating far beyond public accountability.

In Nigeria, for example, Pettifor says, efforts to expand domestic refining capacity continue to face pressure from international financial institutions and global energy markets to keep fuel prices tied to global markets and maintain reliance on imported refined oil products, despite its vast oil reserves.

Coordinated cooperation between developing nations may be necessary to challenge the dominance of Western-centred financial systems, Pettifor says, pointing to growing efforts across parts of West Africa to expand regional refining capacity and reduce dependence on imported fuel. Yet such ambitions can also leave critical sectors dependent on the decisions and influence of a small number of powerful private actors.

Global financial markets, algorithm-driven platforms, and foreign-controlled digital infrastructure increasingly define everyday life – from fuel and food prices to the information people consume online and the technologies governments and societies depend on, observers say.

A ‘mastery complex’

As wars become increasingly influenced by AI, digital infrastructure and financial dependency, debates around colonisation are focusing less on territorial control and more on who influences energy prices, lending systems, access to technology and the flow of information across borders, observers say.

Albayrak draws a parallel between today’s debates around technology and global power and Rudyard Kipling’s 1899 poem “The White Man’s Burden”, published as the US took control of the Philippines following the Spanish-American War. The poem framed colonial expansion as a moral obligation to “civilise” other societies rather than an exercise of domination.

Albayrak said such traces of “mastery complex” still survive today, though in different forms – not necessarily through military occupation, but through technological, financial and informational influence.

But what the world really needs, she argues, is a global order built not on hierarchy, but on shared responsibility.

“The burden should belong to humanity collectively.”

South Africa’s President Cyril Ramaphosa has refused to resign over a “cash-in-sofa scandal” that continues to haunt his presidency.

Ramaphosa, who addressed the nation on Monday to declare his intention to remain in his post, is set to face a multi-party impeachment committee, which will investigate allegations that he covered up a 2020 break-in at his private ranch and the theft of more than $500,000, concealing the incident from police and tax authorities.

The committee’s findings could spell his impeachment; however, parliament has not provided a timeframe for the investigation, which has yet to commence.

Analysts say the scandal, which has been dubbed “Farmgate”, has been particularly damaging for a president who rode to power in 2018 on an anticorruption mandate, after the much-criticised presidency of Jacob Zuma. Now, eight years later, the case of the cash found stuffed in a sofa at his game ranch could be what takes Ramaphosa down.

Can the South African president survive? Here is what we know.

What’s the scandal all about?

In February 2020, burglars allegedly broke into Ramaphosa’s luxury private ranch, Phala Phala, in Limpopo province, South Africa, and stole $580,000. The cash was said to have been hidden inside furniture at the farm – hence the “Farmgate” label.

Ramaphosa has been accused of covering up the theft and keeping private efforts to trace the burglars a secret to avoid an investigation into where the money had come from – and why it was hidden in a sofa.

Corruption allegations surfaced when a former head of South Africa’s state security agency walked into a police station in 2022 and accused the president of money laundering in relation to the stolen cash.

Later that year, an independent parliamentary committee found that Ramaphosa “may have committed” serious violations and misconduct. In particular, the panel found he had failed to properly report a theft to police as required under anticorruption laws and “acted in a manner inconsistent with his office”.

At the time, the African National Congress (ANC) had a strong majority in parliament – with 230 seats out of 400. It was therefore able to reject the report and refused to open impeachment proceedings.

But the left-wing Economic Freedom Fighters (EFF) challenged this at the Constitutional Court in Cape Town, which, last week, overturned the government’s rejection of the 2022 parliamentary report and referred it to a multi-party impeachment committee for a full investigation.

What has Ramaphosa said?

Ramaphosa has always denied allegations of corruption and maintains that the stolen cash came from selling buffalo.

Since the constitutional court’s ruling last week, Ramaphosa has been facing renewed calls for his resignation, mostly from opposition leaders. In a televised address on Monday, the president refused to step down.

“While there have been calls in some circles that I should resign, nothing in the Constitutional Court judgement compels me to resign my office,” he said.

“Since a criminal complaint was laid against me in June 2022, I have consistently maintained that I have not stolen public money, committed any crime, nor violated my oath of office,” Ramaphosa said in his address, adding that he has cooperated in all investigations.

The president rejected the 2022 report from the independent panel again, saying: “The complaints against me are based on hearsay allegations. No evidence, let alone sufficient evidence, has been presented to prove that I committed any violation, let alone a serious violation of the Constitution or law, or serious misconduct as set out in the Constitution.”

If the committee does find enough evidence against him, it could direct him to be impeached.

It is unclear how long this will take, however. Ramaphosa has pledged to seek a judicial review of the report’s contents, which, in turn, could delay the investigation of the impeachment committee.

What is the process for impeachment?

If a president is found to have violated the constitution or the law, or is unable to perform the duties of office, South Africa’s National Assembly has the constitutional authority to remove him or her.

Beyond the parliamentary investigation that will now begin into the Farmgate scandal, and which can trigger a vote on impeachment, as well, any member of parliament may introduce a motion seeking the president’s removal. The speaker of the National Assembly would then refer the motion to an independent panel of legal experts to determine whether sufficient evidence exists to proceed.

If this panel decides there is a case against the president, lawmakers must vote on whether to begin impeachment proceedings. After this, a specially constituted impeachment committee is established to carry out a detailed investigation into the allegations. This is separate from the investigation beginning now and could take several months.

Once that committee recommends the removal of the president, parliament holds a final vote to impeach the president. Under Section 89 of the constitution, a two-thirds majority is required – meaning at least 267 lawmakers must vote in favour of removal in the 400-seat National Assembly.

Are there other ways to remove Ramaphosa?

Yes, the South African president can be removed from his job via a no-confidence vote in parliament.

Any member of the assembly can propose the no-confidence motion, and it only requires a simple majority of more than 50 percent.

Ramaphosa would need support from coalition partners to survive a no-confidence vote, however. This has already been proposed by at least two opposition parties in parliament.

Another way could be if his ANC party turns against him, as it did with the last president, Zuma, who came in for years of corruption allegations and was finally forced to resign in 2018.

How strong is Ramaphosa’s position?

Ramaphosa is not only the president of South Africa, but also the leader of its most popular party, the ANC. Nelson Mandela was the ANC’s first Black president after apartheid ended in 1994.

In 2024, the ANC stunningly lost its majority in parliament for the first time following more than three decades in power. Today, the ANC holds 159 of 400 seats in the national assembly, or about 40 percent of seats – and Ramaphosa is governing in a coalition with the Democratic Alliance, which has 87 seats, along with other smaller parties.

But Chris Ogunmodede, an independent analyst of African politics, security, and international affairs, based in Lagos, Nigeria, said Ramaphosa would likely survive any impeachment attempts, “simply because of the arithmetic”.

“His numbers in the parliament virtually guarantee that impeachment will not happen,” Ogunmodede told Al Jazeera.

“It hasn’t been easy, but there is a government that seems to be functional and is showing some signs of reinvigoration,” Ogunmodede added. “There’s a lot of uncertainty on the part of the other coalition parties that suggests that they would much rather be on the side of caution and go with the devil they know, and preserve the government by keeping Ramaphosa in power.”

Despite this, the cash-in-sofa scandal has been damaging, he said.

And, under Ramaphosa, the ANC’s popularity has continued to slide. The party’s national vote share fell from 57.5 percent in the 2019 election to 40.2 percent in the 2024 election, marking its worst performance since the end of apartheid.

The South African economy has shown some signs of improvement, however, and given the Ramaphosa government “something to show for the time that it’s been in power”, said Ogunmodede.

Yet the South African government still faces long-term structural concerns about the economy, the country’s institutions, corruption, crime and other issues, the analyst added.

On the back of underlying anti-incumbency, Ogunmodede said the top court’s ruling on the cash-in-sofa scandal “has resurrected many concerns that South Africans have had about the president and his party, and the political institutions of the country more broadly”.

PLUCKED from obscurity and then dropped when fans lose interest, men in reality TV shows often fare worse than their female counterparts.

While women regularly earn a fortune from brand endorsements, the guys can find themselves struggling after they are no longer on our TV screens.

Now the untimely deaths of The Only Way Is Essex cast members Jake Hall and Jordan Wright within a few months of each other has raised fears that ITV is failing in its duty of care for former reality TV stars.

Jake, 35, died last week in a Spanish villa following a night of partying while Jordan, 33 was found dead in a ditch in Thailand in March.

A TV insider told The Sun: “The tragic deaths of Jake and Jordan have raised some serious red flags.

“No one is blaming ITV but there is definitely a pattern which emerges time and time again on all reality shows.

“Measures were put in place a number of years ago but it doesn’t seem to be enough.”

Artist and designer Jake, who joined Towie in 2015, had been living in Spain.

He was found dead in a pool of blood in a villa in Majorca last Wednesday morning after he seemingly crashed through a window.

A police source said witnesses described Jake as “agitated”, possibly from “alcohol and other substances he may have consumed”.

He had a number of struggles in recent years, from losing his fashion brand Prevu to being hit with a restraining order by ex-girlfriend Misse Beqiri, a model and the mother of his eight-year-old daughter River.

Yet right from the start of his telly career, Jake was open about being uncomfortable with fame.

Shortly after his debut on Towie, Jake said on This Morning: “The privacy part has been quite difficult because everyone knows your life within days of being on the show.”

Jordan, from Basildon, Essex, also admitted he struggled with life in the spotlight.

The former firefighter said: “I had an enjoyable career for six years before I resigned to pursue a life in the limelight of reality TV — a choice that left me hugely unfulfilled, stagnant and lost.

“People think it’s glitz and glamour but the truth is very far from public perception.

“I really struggled.

“When I left I lost a huge part of myself and my sense of purpose.”

Jordan returned to firefighting in 2023 but he struggled to settle and in December moved to Thailand where he was looking forward to a “very exciting year ahead”.

He shared his new life with his 21,500 Instagram followers, but in March was found dead face down in a drainage canal on the island of Phuket.

CCTV footage appeared to show Jordan pacing erratically outside a hotel before bolting out of the complex shortly before his body was found.

Unfortunately, the two deaths were not Towie’s first.

In January 2021, Mick Norcross took his own life, aged 57.

The Sugar Hut owner and businessman had joined the show with his son Kirk, who now runs a waste removal business.

Addiction has also taken hold of a number of cast members, including James Argent, who suffered two near-fatal overdoses at home.

Arg’s drug binges cost him his relationship with co-star Lydia Bright, his job on Towie and other high- profile TV work.

Last year he was in trouble after pushing his former Miss Sweden partner Nicoline Artursson down some steps on holiday in Spain.

He admitted an offence of gender violence and was given a six-month prison sentence, suspended for two years.

Jake and Jordan’s deaths sent shockwaves through fans of Towie and its stars.

Charlie King, who was on the show in 2012 and 2013, has faced his own demons since he left the programme but believes his fellow cast members must “take responsibility”.

He told The Sun: “Reality stars in general are seeking something — whether it’s fame, attention or validation.

“It’s a two-way street — stars want to appear on the shows for that lifestyle and experience, and shows need the participants.

“I can’t say Towie gave me the best support when I finished on the show.

“I remember feeling lost and redundant, trying to navigate a life post the show and still having eyes on me.

“It was hard.

“I missed the show deeply and all that came with it.

“I think access to a counsellor or therapy in those first months or years after appearing is always a good idea.

“But I also don’t think it’s fair to point the finger at these shows for how individuals live their lives after — we have to take responsibility.”

Charlie added that producers offer much better support for their on-screen talent these days and that ITV “isn’t afraid to pull out cast members if they think it’s getting too much or they need a breather, which is great to see”.

Following his stint on Towie, Charlie was diagnosed with body dysmorphia and had a botched nose job.

Other lads from the show have also gone under the knife in a quest for perfection.

Bobby Norris is now almost unrecognisable after having a full deep plane facelift, neck lift and lower eyelid surgery.

James Lock has also battled body dysmorphia and says he has spent around £100,000 on getting work done.

On rival ITV show Love Island, telly bosses brought in a revised set of welfare measures in 2021, including “comprehensive” psychological support, after former stars Sophie Gradon and Mike Thalassitis took their own lives.

Their relatives blamed a lack of support from the show for contributing to their mental anguish.

Love Islanders are offered a minimum of eight therapy sessions when they return home.

They also get advice on coping with their finances.

But unlike Love Island, Towie cast members often appear on the show for years at a time.

A number of its former stars, including Yazmin Oukhellou and Tommy Mallet, have praised the support they have received while on the show — but what happens when the cameras stop rolling?

A telly insider revealed: “When women finish on a reality show, brand deals, an influencing career and other avenues are open to them — but it’s very different for men.

“They can get club PAs but that involves late nights and lots of booze.

“Some people like Jake or Tommy launch a career in fashion, but many struggle to achieve the dizzy heights they once enjoyed.”

Women, meanwhile, have made millions off the back of Towie, thanks to very successful business models.

Former glamour model Sam Faiers owns global collagen brand Revive and is worth £9million, and Gemma Collins is now a huge TV star with £7million in the bank.

Lucy Mecklenburgh — famed for throwing drinks on cheating Mario Falcone — now owns a thriving fitness brand and shows off her happy life on social media.

But there have also been a number of male Towie successes too.

Mark Wright landed I’m A Celebrity and Strictly at a time when Z-listers were reportedly banned, as well as enjoying a stint on US TV.

Now a radio DJ, he is married to actress Michelle Keegan, and the couple live in a £3.5million Essex mansion with one-year-old daughter Palma.

Joey Essex also became a huge breakout star.

These days he is worth at least £10millon thanks to a lucrative reality TV career, savvy personal branding and business ventures.

Another success story is Tommy Mallet, who launched luxury footwear and apparel brand Mallet London and more recently Ctrne trainers.

Tommy, Joey and Mark are living up to Towie’s theme tune The Only Way Is Up — and fans will hope there will be more men from the show who enjoy similar success.

ITV was approached for comment but declined.

San Francisco, United States – Greer Dove’s days are packed with studying business and finance, as well as doing administrative work at college, along with caring for her eight-year-old daughter with special needs. But once a week, Dove, a single mother, makes sure to drop in at the food bank in California’s Marin County to pick up vegetables, fruit and other food. Along with the federal government’s food benefits, they keep her housing running.

“We need this so we can keep functioning at a high level,” she says. “She loves fruit, so I make sure to get it,” she says of her daughter.

Dove, who is also looking for a full-time job, has worked in restaurants, event management, retail, television shows, office administration and payroll over the years. But she has been on the federal government’s Supplemental Nutritional Assistance Program (SNAP) for six years, and with the food bank, for more than three years. Before she got food benefits, Dove fed her daughter all she had and skipped meals or looked around for snacks in the offices she worked at to get her through the day.

United States President Donald Trump’s One Big Beautiful Bill Act (OBBBA), passed in June, cut SNAP benefits by more than $186bn over the next 10 years to make up for extending cuts to income tax. This could lead to more than 3 million people nationwide, and 665,000 recipients in California, losing such food benefits, according to estimates.

“This will bring a series of cuts that collectively present an existential threat to food benefits,” says Andrew Cheyne, managing director of government relations and public affairs at the County Welfare Directors Association of California.

California’s proposed billionaire tax, which seeks to impose a one-time 5 percent tax on the assets of the state’s more than 200 billionaires to make up for the funding gap created by the OBBBA, got more than 1.5 million signatures in April. It is likely to be on the ballot for the November midterm election.

While most of the nearly $100bn expected to be raised through the tax will go towards filling the gap in health insurance created by the OBBBA, 10 percent will be used to make up for the retrenchment in food benefits.

In California, where more than 5.3 million people, more than any other state, receive food benefits, the impacts of the cuts began to be felt in April when 72,000 immigrants started losing benefits. June onwards, nearly 600,000 recipients will be screened for work eligibility. Recipients, including those who are homeless, seniors, foster youth and veterans, will have to work, study or volunteer to receive food benefits. Failing the screening to meet work requirements for three months will lead to their food benefits being cut.

Brian Galle, professor of law at the University of California at Berkeley and one of the tax measure’s authors, says that in California, the state that introduced gig work, “jobs are increasingly precarious. You may find enough work or not. You may get tips or not. But nutrition needs are steady.”

Making impossible choices

On a recent Friday morning, new members lined up to enrol at a whitewashed, bunting-festooned La Ofrenda food bank in San Francisco’s Mission district. The food bank doles out fresh vegetables, fruit and bread that have been donated by large grocery stores once those products neared expiration date.

Gladys Lee had taken a 45-minute train ride after a friend told her about it. Lee worked at downtown San Francisco’s Hyatt hotel as a room cleaner for three decades until a back injury meant she could not push the heavy cleaning carts any more and had to leave. After seven years of struggling to find work, food was getting scarce, and Lee found her way to La Ofrenda. She packed what she could into a carton and held it in her arms for the train ride back.

Food benefit rolls have shrunk by more than 3.3 million nationally in the six months from July 2025, when the OBBBA was enacted, to January 2026.

In California, the rolls of Calfresh, as food benefits are known in the state, shrank by 288,000 or 6 percent from July 2025 to February 2026, according to analysis by the Center for Budget and Policy Priorities, a Washington, DC-based think tank. This reduction in rolls happened even before the OBBBA cuts began.

Brooke Rollins, the agriculture secretary, wrote in a recent essay that the shrinking of SNAP rolls reflected an ebullient economy and buoyant job growth.

“The drop in SNAP recipients affirms that many Americans are moving from welfare to work,” she wrote. “It is no secret that Trump’s massive tax cuts and deregulation efforts are unleashing robust, private sector-led economic growth, which are fueling trillions in investments, booming wage growth”.

But unemployment remained stable at about 4.4 percent since July 2025, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics data, while SNAP rolls shrank.

“This last time we saw such a steep, quick decline, other than during natural disasters, is three decades ago when welfare reform was enacted,” says Dottie Rosenbaum, senior fellow and director of  Federal SNAP Policy at the Center for Budget and Policy Priorities.

Nationally, SNAP rolls shrank by 8 percent, while in California, they shrank by 5.5 percent, in part because the work eligibility requirements were delayed until June, while some other states have already implemented them.

At La Ofrenda, Roberto Alfaro, executive director of the nonprofit Homey, says he started the food bank when food costs went up during the pandemic. They have stayed high, he says. Now he sees people doing day jobs and night jobs and coming for food when they have paid rent.

“People are making impossible choices,” says Keely O’Brien, a policy advocate at the Western Center for Law and Poverty.

While California is the world’s fourth-largest economy, growth has come with a soaring cost-of-living crisis.

“With rising housing and utility costs, few households can dedicate that much of their income towards food,” O’Brien says.

The OBBA has also shifted the administrative cost of meeting work eligibility requirements to states, and beginning next year, part of the cost of SNAP will also fall on states.

“To make requirements more stringent, you are creating more government, more bureaucratic logjam,” says Jaren Sorkow, state director for the Children’s Defence Fund.

This has already led to a 51 percent drop in SNAP rolls in Arizona, which has begun implementing the OBBBA cuts, according to data by the Center for Budget and Policy Priorities.

Making something from nothing

Several measures to counter the $100bn gap in funding for health insurance and food benefits created by the OBBBA have been floated in California. The biggest of these is the one-time 5 percent tax on those with assets of more than a billion dollars. The tax will raise $100bn, its authors estimate.

As it seems set to be voted on in the November election, it faces mounting opposition from the state’s tech entrepreneurs who have funded measures to undercut the tax.

Tech entrepreneurs have called it an economic 9/11, saying taxing their assets, including shareholding in startups, will lead to a flight of capital and innovation from the state. Sergey Brin, a cofounder of Google Inc, now spends a week in Nevada and a week in his Bay Area offices and has spent more than $57m on opposing the billionaire tax. He has backed two measures that undercut the billion tax, which have also received 1.4 million and 1.5 million signatures and are also set to be on the ballot for the November election.

One of these measures prohibits future taxes on personal property, including financial assets, savings and retirement accounts, as well as intellectual property. The other would increase audits of taxpayer-funded programmes, and includes language that would essentially invalidate the billionaire tax.

In a recent statement to The New York Times, Brin said, “I fled socialism with my family in 1979 and know the devastating, oppressive society it created in the Soviet Union. I don’t want California to end up in the same place.”

The coalition of unions backing the billionaire tax is bracing for the fight ahead. “We expect to be outspent,” says Kris Cuaresma-Primm, director of partnerships for the coalition that is backing the billionaire tax. “We will keep communicating to people that there is a tidal wave of pain coming from the cuts, and we want to reclaim the losses from the OBBBA.”

Giulia Varaschin, senior tax policy adviser at the International Tax Observatory, who recently coauthored a study on wealth taxes, says there is little academic evidence that such taxes cause the wealthy to leave at a notable scale. “There is only a marginal flight with very little, if any, economic impact,” she says.

The study, coauthored with the economist Gabriel Zucman, who supports the California billionaire tax, did find that wealth taxes had not raised as much revenue as estimated in several European countries and became less popular as a result.

Varaschin says this was because these taxes were levied on a larger set of the wealthy, which included homeowners or small businesses, rather than the ultra-rich or billionaires. The taxpayers could hardly afford to pay it, and the government made exemptions instead. These taxes also did not touch assets, where much of the wealth of the ultra-rich lies, Varaschin says.

The California tax remedies this by taxing only billionaires and taxing assets, including shares in companies.

Daniel Shaviro, Wayne Perry professor of taxation at New York University, says, “Traditionally, these taxes can be hard to enforce because tax administration don’t want to go after these people.”

Even if it passes, “The governor could just say this is not a high priority for him and not enforce it,” Shaviro says, referring to Governor Gavin Newsom, who has opposed the tax.

But Primm says, “The governor is out of touch with Californians on this”.

Newsom is in the last year of his last term as governor. However, nearly all the candidates running for the June 2 primary for governor, except billionaire Tom Steyer, who is running as a progressive Democrat, also oppose this measure. While some have said this will lead to a flight of capital, others say the spending plan does not include expenses for education, which was not cut in the OBBBA.

Greer Dove, who gets food through Calfresh and the San Francisco Marin Food Bank for herself and her daughter, says the looming food benefit cuts are worrying. “The anxiety of it all is adding up. I could be next.”

Football has gained a foothold in the United States, and the country seems ready to host the World Cup this summer – which was not clear in 1994.

Back then, when the US last hosted the World Cup, the country had no professional league and the national team was cobbled together with ex-collegians, journeymen, and semi-professionals.

“Leading into ’94, we were at risk on the ticket side,” former US Soccer President Sunil Gulati told Al Jazeera in a recent interview. “For the US Organizing Committee, it was a big concern if we could sell all the tickets.’’

In the end, the 1994 tournament was successful. A record 3.5 million (68,991 per game) attended matches; the US advanced from the group stage for the first time since 1930, losing 1-0 to eventual champions Brazil in the last 16; and seeds were planted for a professional league, Major League Soccer.

Football has since moved from the margins to the mainstream in the US.

MLS is thriving, the national team is ranked a creditable 16th in the world by FIFA, and as the World Cup returns this summer, ticket demand far outpaces supply.

“If you said in 1994 MLS would be a 30-team league, with [22] soccer-specific stadiums and averaging 20,000 crowds – not in our wildest dreams,” Gulati said.

“The landscape is completely different. The most visible thing is the development of professional leagues, MLS and the women’s league [NWSL]. We had no first division league. And now there is [also] USL Division 2 and 3. The number of teams has increased dramatically.”

Today, the US Soccer Federation, commonly referred to as US Soccer, sanctions 127 professional teams – 102 men’s and 25 women’s.

“Eighteen of the top 50 [valued] teams in the world are in MLS,” Gulati said. “That’s an extraordinary statistic. The women’s team in Columbus just sold for $205m. Commercial interest in soccer and soccer leagues is at an all-time high.”

Credit Joao Havelange for seeing the future. During his reign as FIFA president, Havelange usually got what he wanted, and he wanted the 1994 World Cup in the US, along with a professional league.

Easier said than done, though. Organised football has been played in the US since the late 19th century, with the American Cup inaugurated in 1884. But over the following decades, several professional leagues collapsed, and after the North American Soccer League (NASL) folded in 1984, there appeared to be little future for the game. Enter Havelange and FIFA.

“FIFA recognised a long time ago that, for the sport to grow internationally, it had to be successful in the US,” Farrukh Quraishi, a Tampa, Florida-based administrator who played in the NASL, told Al Jazeera.

“For me, it was purely a matter of time. This is a huge and wealthy market. Now, you look at who is buying clubs in MLS, and it’s a who’s who of NFL owners.”

Looking back, it’s remarkable that the US actually competed in World Cups and played host to one at all, without a nationwide professional league.

For years, football’s foundation in the country was built on amateur and youth participation. By the early 1990s, the numbers were high, with an estimated 18 million people playing the sport at some level in the US. But the pyramid lacked a top tier, leaving a dead end for aspiring players, little media coverage, and scattered fan interest.

The 1994 World Cup came and went, and, in 1996, MLS finally kicked off.

Havelange duly arrived to commemorate the inaugural game, sitting in the rickety stands of Spartan Stadium in San Jose, California.

The San Jose Clash edged DC United 1-0, as Eric Wynalda scored an 88th-minute goal – just in time to avoid the game going to a “shootout”, in which draws were decided by players going one-on-one with goalkeepers from 32 metres (35 yards) out. This novel method of deciding games ended in 2000.

Football-specific stadiums started springing up in 1999. Lamar Hunt’s Columbus Crew Stadium became the country’s first major purpose-built football venue since Mark’s Stadium in Fall River, Massachusetts, in 1922. Now, Columbus are on their second stadium, the ScottsMiracle-Gro Field, and a total of 22 MLS teams compete at their own venues.

Football finally became part of the American sporting scene.

“Is it in the same way as the NFL, with [average figures of more than 18 million] watching it, or the American Pastime that baseball is? No,” Gulati said.

“It’s not at that viewership level, [but] there is worldwide coverage of games. Look at everyone wearing jerseys on the street, Lionel Messi playing in Miami. It is part of the mainstream.”

‘Soccer still isn’t king in the US’

Not that the picture is not flawed. Wynalda, who went on to score 34 goals in 106 games for the US national team, sees the current system as a recipe for mediocrity, registering millions of youngsters but limiting their ambition as few US players take up prominent roles on MLS teams.

Most are offered the league’s minimum annual salary ($80,622) and only two US players were listed last year among the top 40 highest-paid, according to the MLS Players Association – Austin FC forward Brandon Vazquez (24th at $3.55m) and Nashville SC defender Walker Zimmerman (27th at $3.45m).

“Look at the growth of [MLS] and you can say soccer looks professional, looks like a big deal, looks major league. And a lot of people look at the sport with a different lens now because it’s a legitimate sport,” Wynalda, now a coach and commentator, told Al Jazeera.

“[But] facilities do not create ability. We need more focus on a competitive environment to develop players. We tell them winning doesn’t matter and then wonder why they can’t win. We’ve lost that competitive mentality.”

He favours introducing promotion/relegation as a solution.

“If you’re going to a team that is never going to be relegated, because it’s got enough money, you never learn how to fight relegation, how to beat 11 angry men with their livelihood on the line,” Wynalda said.

And while the MLS franchise model has created riches, with teams valued as high as Los Angeles FC at $1.25bn (thanks to owning the 22,000-seat BMO Stadium) by Forbes Magazine, the quality of play does not always correspond.

MLS teams have tended to struggle in CONCACAF competitions, although in 2022 the Seattle Sounders ended a 22-year drought for an MLS side to win the federation’s elite competition, which was previously won by DC United in 1998 and LA Galaxy in 2000.

“There are things we agree with and disagree with, on and off the field, but [MLS] is successful,” Fox Sports commentator Alexi Lalas, a central defender for the US in 1994, told Al Jazeera. “I don’t think you can argue against that.”

Thanks to the 1994 WC and MLS, football in the US became “a very different world, to finally be even recognised for what you did, let alone respected”, Lalas said. “You know, soccer still isn’t king in the US, but, let’s be honest, it’s part of the palate and certainly part of the landscape when it comes to this generation.”

Lalas predicts the US will harness the “magic” of being hosts to reach the quarterfinals, while Gulati expects the sport to continue to grow in the US after the World Cup.

“That is what the legacy of the tournament is about and why we bid,” Gulati said.