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Beirut, Lebanon – The accusation from Lebanon’s prime minister that Iran’s Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) is in charge of Hezbollah’s operations against Israel comes as relations between the Shia group and the Lebanese government are at their lowest in years.

But, according to analysts, that animosity does not mean that Prime Minister Nawaf Salam was incorrect in his analysis of the situation.

In comments made on Sunday to the Saudi Arabian television station al-Hadath, Salam said that the IRGC – a branch of Iran’s military that answers directly to that country’s supreme leader – was directing Hezbollah in its fight against Israel, and in launching drones at Cyprus from Lebanon.

Israel’s latest attacks on Lebanon have, since they started in early March, killed more than 1,000 people and displaced at least 1.2 million, more than 20 percent of the country’s population. Human Rights Watch researchers say the mass displacement alone could amount to a war crime.

While Salam’s claims might be hard to definitively prove, analysis from experts and reporting suggest that the IRGC has played a crucial role in Hezbollah’s preparations for reentering the war waged against Lebanon since 2023.

IRGC calling the shots

In his interview with al-Hadath, Salam accused the IRGC of “managing the military operation in Lebanon” and of firing a drone at a British Air Force base in Cyprus, earlier this month. He accused IRGC officials of entering Lebanon with false passports.

On March 2, Hezbollah fired six rockets across the border. The group said that it was in response to the assassination of Iran’s Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei on February 28, and a response to more than a year of unanswered Israeli aggression on Lebanon, which had killed hundreds.

The move shocked much of Lebanon’s population and political establishment, after Hezbollah had reportedly given assurances to its allies in government, including Parliament Speaker Nabih Berri, that it would not enter the war in support of Iran, its close ideological ally.

The Lebanese government – which had already been moving to disarm Hezbollah – responded by banning the powerful group’s military activities and asking some Iranians believed to have links to the IRGC to leave. But the action has had little impact on the ground, where Hezbollah continues its war efforts against Israel, including battling the Israeli military on the ground in southern Lebanon – the fight that Salam believes is managed by the IRGC.

Ties between the IRGC and Hezbollah are longstanding.

Hezbollah was founded in 1982, three years after the Islamic revolution in Iran. The group was created in coordination with the IRGC and has since counted Iran as its benefactor and spiritual guide.

Immediately after a November 2024 ceasefire between Hezbollah and Israel, Iran sent IRGC officers to Lebanon to conduct a post-war audit and restructure, according to reporting by the Reuters news agency.

Hezbollah’s chain of command was reportedly restructured from a hierarchical one to smaller cells with greater decisional autonomy, something also practised by the IRGC and known as the “mosaic” defence.

Nicholas Blanford, a nonresident senior fellow with the Atlantic Council, said that sources in Hezbollah and the Lebanese government had told him that the original Hezbollah rocket attack on March 2 was conducted by the Islamic Resistance, Hezbollah’s military wing, possibly in direct coordination with the Quds Force, the IRGC’s foreign unit. Hezbollah’s senior leadership may not have been aware of the plans for the attack.

“I think the IRGC is calling the shots,” Blanford told Al Jazeera. “They are working together.”

Lebanese government out of options

On Tuesday, Lebanon’s Foreign Minister Youssef Rajji declared the Iranian ambassador to Lebanon a persona non grata and gave him until Sunday to leave the country.

The move indicates that Lebanon is trying to counter Iranian influence in Lebanon and came just hours after Israel’s Defence Minister, Israel Katz, announced that his country’s military would create a “security zone” in southern Lebanon stretching to the Litani River, roughly 30km (20 miles) north of the Israeli border – essentially an illegal occupation of the area.

But analysts and experts said there is little Lebanon can do before the war with Israel ends.

The Lebanese government had worked under heavy international pressure to disarm Hezbollah during the ceasefire period from November 2024 until earlier this month. But Israel violated the ceasefire more than 10,000 times, according to UN peacekeepers in Lebanon. For any progress to be made on disarmament, analysts said, Israel cannot continue attacking Lebanon.

“What the Lebanese government was supposed to do was a gradual disarmament of the party, which is also something that many Lebanese would like to happen,” Ziad Majed, a Lebanese political scientist, told Al Jazeera. “However, it cannot happen while Israel is bombing.”

However, the attacks don’t seem likely to cease in the short term. US President Donald Trump said that his envoys, Steve Witkoff and Jared Kushner, had engaged in talks with Iran on Monday over a possible end to the war. Iran subsequently denied that talks took place.

Many in Lebanon believe that Israel’s campaign in Lebanon won’t be included in any potential agreement between Iran, the US, and Israel to end the war. Katz’s statement on Tuesday seems to suggest Israel plans to carry on its invasion of southern Lebanon until its forces reach the Litani River.

Hezbollah’s threats

The government’s efforts to retake control of southern Lebanon may be even more difficult now that it is dealing with a reemboldened Hezbollah.

Mahmoud Qamati, deputy head of Hezbollah’s political council, compared the Lebanese government to France’s World War II Vichy government, which collaborated with the Nazis. Qamati was criticised for his comments, but later said they were misinterpreted.

More ominous comments came from Wafiq Safa, who was until recently the head of Hezbollah’s Liaison and Coordination Unit. He sent a message to the Lebanese government during a recent press interview.

“We will force the government to backtrack on the decision to ban the party’s military activities after the war, regardless of the method,” he said.

DESPITE winning dream roles, Anya Taylor-Joy admits her real wish is to retreat from Hollywood and live on a farm.

The 29-year-old is one of the world’s best-known actresses but has spent years feeling nervous on the red carpet, struggled to watch her award-winning performances and now wants calm.

She voices love interest Princess Peach in the new Super Mario Galaxy movie, which is released on April 1.

But Anya described her ideal life as “on a farm”.

She said: “I want goats, chickens, ducks, horses — all of it. I want to work, come into the city when I want to, then disappear and ride all day.”

The film is the follow-up to 2023’s The Super Mario Bros. Movie, which grossed more than £1billion worldwide.

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Princess Peach is the main female character and head of state of the Mushroom Kingdom.

Anya said: “I was so touched by how strong she is and how cool. The fact that’s going to be a role model kids can have nowadays is unbelievable. I left feeling very inspired by her.”

Anya knows all too well that life can be difficult as a child.

She was born in Florida, then lived in Argentina for five years where she rode horses in the idyllic countryside.

Her African-Spanish mum, a psychologist, and Scottish-Argentine dad, who raced powerboats, then moved the family to London when she was six — and things became dramatically different.

Anya was bullied, “locked in lockers, barred from classrooms, not invited to things” and did not speak English.

Watching films helped her navigate through the traumas.

She told the Happy Sad Confused podcast: “I’ve never been good at being cool, this is why I didn’t get along well with people in school.

“If I like something, I love it and it just pours out of me.

“But if I was sad, like if my hamster died, my parents could put me in front of a movie and I would feel better at the end of it.

“I could get lost in something like that.”

It was her love of movies that eventually helped her learn English.

She says: “I learned English when I was eight. I stuck it out for two years in London, refusing to speak English because I wanted to go home. Then eventually I was like, ‘I have no friends, this is going to be a needed skill’.”

Anya told her parents she was going to be an actress.

But first, after being “picked up” outside Harrods, she became a model at 16.

She was recruited by Sarah Doukas, boss of Storm model agency, who had discovered Kate Moss.

But at first Anya thought she was a stalker.

She said: “It was absurd. A black car comes up, starts chasing me. I pick up my dog, start running and a head comes out of the window and they say, ‘If you stop, you won’t regret it,’ and I stop.

“It was the head of a modelling agency. I don’t encourage other people to do this.

“I had no idea what I was doing, but luckily it worked out and my parents came with me the next day to the modelling agency.”

Her parents always supported her. Anya said: “They’d had six kids, so were like, ‘Oh, just do whatever you’re going to do’.

“I’m so grateful for the approach my parents have had because I did some pretty ballsy things in my teenage years and luckily they paid off, but they were always supportive.”

She did many auditions before getting her breakthrough role at 19 in film The Witch.

Anya said: “I thought that audition went so badly. I truly thought I had messed that up massively because I had a huge panic attack before I went into it, and luckily that really worked for the scene.”

It was then that Anya found where she truly belonged.

She said: “Going into work every single day felt like such a joy.

“I could breathe because I’d found a place where I was doing something I loved, with people who didn’t think I was a psychopath. And I could have fun with it. I loved every second of making that movie.”

She found it “mind blowing” that The Witch was a hit and forced herself to watch the performance.

Anya said: “It’s like getting hit by a bus. I personally don’t agree with not watching your films, it’s not all about you. It’s a whole bunch of other people who have done a lot of work and different departments that you have to go and support, because they deserve it and you love them. So I have to watch it.

“But the first time, I always feel I’ve let people down and I’m always like, ‘Oh, I messed it up’.

“Then I process it and the second time I watch it, it’s slightly more palatable and I’m able to lose myself a bit more.

“By the third time I’m just like, ‘OK, whatever’. You just have to get over yourself and applaud the people you care about that worked with you.”

Anya became a household name in 2020 after starring in Netflix series The Queen’s Gambit, which led to a Golden Globe for Best Actress.

She went on to roles in horror film Last Night In Soho, black comedy The Menu and the apocalyptic film Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga. Anya said she works “very hard, very gratefully hard” because she feels lucky to do a job she feels passionate about.

But it is not always easy. Despite her modelling background, Anya struggles with the limelight.

She said: “When I first started doing red carpets, I couldn’t handle the notion of being pretty.

“I was like, ‘I don’t do that’. I am a scummy, mud-caked ferret and striving for anything different felt disingenuous and scary.”

She has even been known to dress up “like an East Berlin spy” at times so nobody recognises her.

Now she is trying to make time for some balance in her life.

She said: “I’ve been living on film sets for five years and, occasionally, I think it would be nice to find out what Anya would do with three months if she wasn’t playing another person.

“So I’m trying to be more careful with my time there.

“You spend 18 hours a day thinking, behaving and breathing as another human being. That doesn’t leave a lot of time to figure out what it is that you like.”

And the person she wants to spend it with is her husband, US musician Malcolm McRae, who she married in 2021.

The couple split their time between homes in the Hollywood Hills and London.

She said: “I’ve finally found someone who will happily sit in silence with me, reading. We’re basically 80 years old and seven at the same time, and it works really well.

“When you are together, you are really valuing the time you have. Everyday, mundane activities are so full of joy.

“I love going to the petrol station with him and filling up the car and going to get breakfast.”

But right now, her focus is all on Princess Peach.

Anya told US Today: “She wants to find out where she comes from and is on a quest for adventure and prioritising herself a little bit more.”

Princess Peach sounds very much like the actress playing her.

Gaza City – In front of a toy stall in Gaza City’s central al-Rimal market, Rania al-Saudi stands with her two young daughters, looking bewildered at the unusually high prices of toys.

Al-Saudi had promised her daughters she would buy them two dolls to celebrate Eid, but the exorbitant toy prices mean she simply can’t afford them.

Her elder daughter, six-year-old Razan, didn’t understand her mother’s worried expressions as Rania asked the vendor for the price of each toy. With every price, Rania gasped and said, “Oh my God, it’s so expensive… this used to be much cheaper.”

Faced with her daughter’s insistence, Rania pleaded with the vendor to lower the prices, but he apologised, saying he could not because getting hold of toys to sell was incredibly difficult, considering Israeli restrictions on importing items into Gaza.

Rania was not alone. Other parents and children repeatedly came to the vendor’s stall to ask about toys, but not one of them made a purchase. In Gaza’s current war-driven economic crisis, the prices are simply unaffordable.

Rania, 43, is originally from Shujayea in eastern Gaza, but has been displaced by the war to the west of the city. She told Al Jazeera that she came looking for toys in an attempt to put smiles on her daughters’ faces before the holiday, but her wish was not fulfilled.

“The prices are extremely high, and the vendors tell us that toys have not entered Gaza since the start of the war. But what did our children do to deserve this?”

Rania recalled the many toys her daughters had in their home before it was destroyed, and how she used to make sure they had toys for every occasion and every holiday.

“Eid holidays are for children’s joy, and children are happy with toys and entertainment. But our children are deprived of everything.”

While speaking to Al Jazeera, Rania tried to calm her daughter Lulwa, who had begun to cry after realising from her mother’s words that she would not get the doll she wanted.

“This doll used to cost no more than 15 shekels ($5) before the war; now it costs 60 shekels ($20),” she said to Al Jazeera, frustrated. “This is something I cannot afford. Everything is expensive and overpriced.”

Rania’s voice grew heavier as she explained that she was unable to even buy new Eid clothes for her daughters – a tradition across the Muslim world – due to the high prices.

“My daughters will not be happy this Eid. I wanted to compensate by getting them dolls, but even that is impossible.”

Toys have been in short supply during the war, which began in October 2023, with bombing and displacement meaning that most children either had their toys destroyed, lost, or left behind. Rania says that her children have been bored, and have had to develop their own ways of playing.

“All the children in the camp face the same situation, so they spend their time playing simple street games like hopscotch, hide-and-seek, or drawing in the sand,” she said.

“But my daughters always wished for a doll. I once tried to make one for them, but they didn’t like it.”

Rising prices and market impact

Toy sellers say they are not to blame for the high prices.

Anwar al-Huwaity has been in the business for 20 years. He told Al Jazeera that his stall is still operating despite Israel’s devastation of Gaza, but that business has become extremely difficult.

“Before the war, toys were widely available,” Anwar said. “Today, we go from one trader to another, searching. Sometimes we find toys with someone who had them stored, but they sell it at a very high price, up to three times its normal price.”

He added that most toys that now reach Gaza do not enter through official crossings, but in limited quantities via unofficial routes, making them very difficult to obtain.

The cost of bringing toys into Gaza has become extremely high. Anwar said some middlemen demand up to 12,000 shekels ($3,870) for a small shipment, and if it is confiscated or destroyed, the loss falls entirely on the trader.

“We buy merchandise at high prices, so we have to sell it at high prices as well,” Anwar said apologetically.

Anwar said that toys were now up to 300 percent more expensive compared to pre-war prices. The holiday season, the main income generator for toy sellers, used to bring in between $6,500 and $10,000, he explained. Now, he’d be lucky to sell $1,000 of stock – and most of that is bulk sales to other traders, rather than regular customers.

Anwar may be a businessman, but he shared that the hardest part of his job was seeing children ask for toys that their parents cannot afford.

“Many parents can’t buy toys due to the economic situation. People are barely able to secure food,” he said.

Anwar’s job has gone from providing children joy, to seeing them disappointed.

“I have started hating my workday because I know the prices are exorbitant, and when the children and families see the toys, they get upset, especially during the holidays.”

“People come to buy toys and beg me to lower the price,” he said. “They say, ‘This child is an orphan, that child is an orphan … his parents were killed in the war’. It feels like all children in Gaza have become orphans.”

Restrictions on recreational goods during the Gaza war

Since the outbreak of the war on Gaza in October 2023, trade has been heavily restricted due to the closure of commercial crossings by Israel, especially Karem Abu Salem (Kerem Shalom), the main entry point for goods into Gaza from Israel.

Israel imposed a total blockade on Gaza in 2023, and again for several months in 2025, leading to the declaration of a famine in northern Gaza.

Conditions have improved since a “ceasefire” was declared in October, but Israel is continuing regular strikes – and continuing to heavily restrict the entry of non-essential commercial goods, including toys and recreational materials.

Although no official law or declaration explicitly bans toys from entering Gaza, administrative and security restrictions, combined with the prioritisation of humanitarian goods, have effectively made entry of these items almost impossible.

The United Nations has noted that restrictions on commercial goods, including toys, have affected the availability of both essential and non-essential goods in Gaza.

Near Anwar’s toy stall is another run by Ahmed Ziara. The 24-year-old has been selling toys for several years, but the war has forced him to periodically stop trading.

“Before the war, I worked in major toy exhibitions,” Ahmed explained. “Now toys rarely enter, and we often have to smuggle them, sometimes hidden inside clothes or other goods.”

Ahmed confirmed that most of the toys he acquires are old stock already in Gaza, sold at high prices due to scarcity.

He mentioned that popular Eid holiday toys, which were once inexpensive, now cost triple or even quadruple their previous prices: a small toy car that sold for 40 shekels ($13) last year now costs 150 shekels ($48), a small ball that once cost 3 shekels ($1) is now 30 shekels ($10), building blocks are nearly unavailable, and dolls cost more than 70 shekels ($22.50).

“Buying from traders is hard, and selling is hard due to the economic situation,” Ahmed told Al Jazeera.

“Sometimes I have to sell below the expected price just to clear stock, but most of the time we must raise prices due to high costs and difficulty obtaining toys.”

“If conditions improve and toys are allowed in normally, prices will return to normal, and children and families will be able to enjoy the holiday as before,” he said.

“This work is not easy,” he added, contemplating. “Sometimes I sit alone and tell myself what I am doing is unfair because prices are extremely high. But despite everything, we love to bring joy to children, even for a short time.”

Owalai, Uganda – Martha Apolot navigates a dusty path through fields of cassava and millet under the searing hot sun. She carries a hoe on one shoulder, the blade carefully balanced, and over the other, her eight-year-old son, Aaron.

Every day, the 21-year-old mother takes Aaron to the fields where she works.

“Aaron is so weak, so I have to carry him from the house and lay him somewhere so I can work,” Martha says quietly, holding Aaron on her lap as she sits on the bare earth inside their tiny, single-room hut in Owalai, a rural hamlet in eastern Uganda.

They return home when it’s time to feed Aaron or when he has soiled himself, not when the tilling is done.

Aaron has an undiagnosed disability. He cannot walk, talk, eat solid foods or hold up his head without support. The back of his head is balding from lying down and prone to sores. He needs constant care, but Martha has no one else to look after him while she works.

Martha was 13 when a man lured her from her schoolyard and raped her. She did not know the man and never saw him again, she says. Her memories of that day are traumatic, and she goes quiet, breathing deeply and looking skyward.

Her pregnancy created an immediate rift within her family.

“My dad did not want me to come home, but my mother pleaded with my father to [let me] stay,” she explains after a long pause.

The seventh of eight children, Martha ran away, spending months at friends’ homes. Eventually, her older brother Paul, with whom she is close, tracked her down and told her their parents had accepted the situation and she could return home.

Aaron’s birth was long and complicated. After 15 hours of labour, doctors at the hospital in the city of Soroti admitted the teenager for an emergency caesarean section

Martha remembers the love she felt when she first saw her baby. “I felt so good, receiving my child. He was so handsome,” she recalls.

But Aaron was placed on oxygen shortly after birth. When he was taken away, she thought he had died. As he spent the first week of his life on oxygen, doctors warned Martha of future complications.

HE may be a 63-year-old “normal” dad these days, but Shaun Ryder has not lost the ability to shock.

When the Happy Mondays frontman spoke to host Jack Whitehall at the Brit Awards last month, his tale of nearly being busted for drugs had to be edited out.

But, then again, putting the potty-mouthed and straight-talking singer on live telly is always a risk.

In an exclusive interview with The Sun, the Mancunian reveals that ITV did not appreciate his story of a drugs raid that happened when he was up for a Brit award in 1996.

Back then, Shaun’s other band, Black Grape, had been nominated for British Breakthrough Act.

Shaun says: “I told him I went to score and the gaff where I went to score got raided by the police as I’m scoring and the cops cottoned on who I was.

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“And I’m saying, ‘Oh, I’m getting a Brit Award here’ and they let me go.

“They busted a heroin house and they let me go because I was up for a Brit Award.”

You might think that Shaun, who has already published two autobiographies, has no fresh stories.

But the singer, who has a new memoir out now and who is writing material for Happy Mondays’ first album in 20 years, always has plenty of tales to tell.

In his latest book, 24 Hour Party Person, he recalls facing down what he believes was a killer orangutan, escaping a gun battle and being held hostage by an armed robber.

There are also numerous car crashes from which he somehow escaped alive.

Shaun, who quit drugs aged 40 after 20 years of substance abuse, admits: “I have used up more than nine lives.”

It could all have ended shortly after Happy Mondays’ first album, Squirrel And G-Man Twenty Four Hour Party People Plastic Face Carnt Smile (White Out), came out in 1987.

Shaun, who was not famous at that point, went to Amsterdam to live for a short while.

He remembers: “Some nutcase we knew from Manchester, who was doing armed robberies and was then in Amsterdam, hijacked a load of people, put them in the canal and shot them and then turned up at the gaff where we were staying and held us hostage for a day or two.”

Luckily, Shaun managed to talk the robber into letting them go.

But there was no way of having a nice discussion with a great ape that appeared in front of Shaun on a Barbados beach when he was recording Happy Mondays’ fourth album in 1992.

At the time there were stories in the local Press about a dangerous orangutan, nicknamed Jack the Ripper, on the loose.

Shaun claims: “This thing just dropped out of the trees right in front of me. It was a f***ing big orangutan.”

Telling himself “don’t show any fear”, the musician stood tall and shouted, “Grrr, arrrgh, f*** off, just f*** right off”, at the animal.

Remarkably, the orangutan did as it was told.

Orangutans are not native to the Caribbean, so there is a good chance it was indeed Jack the Ripper.

And Shaun, who was “smoking up to 50 rocks of crack cocaine a day” in Barbados, insists it was not a hallucination.

The album, Yes, Please!, failed to generate enough sales to justify the £150,000 spent making it and the following year the Happy Mondays broke up.

Shaun formed Black Grape in 1993 with his dancer mate Bez and rapper pal Paul “Kermit” Leveridge.

But it did not help keep him out of trouble.

During one trip to Jamaica, he and Kermit found themselves in the middle of a gun battle while trying to buy drugs.

He recalls: “I was going scoring and someone got shot, shot in the head. We just ran for it. If you’re a junkie going scoring, that’s the sort of s**t you come across.”

It was getting together with third wife Joanne which finally helped Shaun give up drugs and stop boozing.

They had dated briefly before Happy Mondays had hits, but he says: “She blew me out.”

Joanne, who now manages the TV part of his career — which has included two appearances on I’m A Celebrity . . . Get Me Out Of Here! — remained in the same circle as him.

The couple got together more than 20 years ago and married in 2010.

They have two daughters, Pearl, 17, and Lulu, 18.

Shaun, who also has four other children with previous partners, says: “She reeled me in and it’s a good job. “She didn’t let me get away with half of the stuff.

“If she hadn’t I’d have just carried on with crashing, but once I hit 40, I was determined to give up drugs anyway.”

His older children had to deal with his absences and spells in rehab.

But the youngest two have grown up in a more stable environment.

Shaun, who is also stepdad to Joanne’s son Oliver, explains: “I’ve still got two kids at home, so for the last 18 years, I’m just Dad.

“They’ve grown up coming and watching us at music festivals, and they’ve seen me in the jungle, but they’ve never seen that Shaun Ryder who’s off his nut.

“I pick them up from college and all that sort of thing, and drop them off. I’m the f***ing taxi service.

“In this house, you know, we don’t even have booze or anything, so, we’ve just been like a normal f***ing mad family for the past 18 years or whatever.”

Shaun says he did not see much of his older children and admits he was not a good dad to them.

But he says: “I’ve had really no trouble off my kids, I’ve been very lucky with the kids.”

This year is going to be an important one for Shaun.

Apart from the book and new album out next year, he is doing a Q&A tour and is on the road with Happy Mondays.

The return to the studio is due to former Creation Records label boss Alan McGee.

Shaun reveals: “I’m writing it now. Alan McGee wanted a new Mondays album, so Alan usually gets what he wants.”

When it comes out, it will be 40 years since the Manchester group’s first release in 1987.

These days various health problems, including a recent bout of pneumonia, means performing is harder than ever for Shaun.

One legal substance that has helped keep him on the road is the fat jab Ozempic.

Shaun says: “You just raid the medicine cabinet, don’t you, and get on with it, so the show must go on.

“I have an overactive thyroid, so even if I ate f***ing lettuce and tomatoes, I would be big.

“Since I started on the injections my thyroid started to get better.”

If Shaun has his way he will keep performing until the Grim Reaper finally catches up with him.

And the singer would settle for dying on stage, like the comedian Tommy Cooper.

He says: “In this game, you’re doing some Tommy Cooper style, you know what I mean?

“As long as you enjoy it, do what you do, f***ing do it and I still do.

“I’ll still make music and go play music out there until I f***ing drop dead on stage.

“It’s a good place to go, innit? To drop dead on stage, singing Kinky Afro.”

• Shaun’s new book 24 Hour Party Person is available from awaywithmedia.com.

Russian oil is emerging as a key beneficiary of the US-Israeli war on Iran, as countries scramble to charter tankers following United States President Donald Trump’s decision to temporarily ease sanctions, analysts say.

Following a phone call with Russian President Vladimir Putin on March 10, Trump said the US would waive Russian oil-related sanctions on “some countries” to ease the shortage caused by Iran’s closure of the Strait of Hormuz, which in peacetime carries 20 percent of the world’s oil and gas from producers in the Gulf.

This week, it was reported that a number of tankers carrying Russian oil bound for China had changed course and were heading for India instead.

According to figures from the Centre for Research on Energy and Clean Air (CREA), Russia earned an additional 672 million euros ($777m) in oil sales in the first two weeks of the war on Iran, which began on February 28 when Israel and the US launched strikes on Tehran, killing Ayatollah Ali Khamenei and other senior Iranian officials.

Iran has since struck back, launching thousands of missiles and drones towards Israel as well as US military assets and infrastructure in neighbouring Gulf countries. The war stepped up a level this week, when Israel bombed Iran’s critical South Pars gasfield, and Iran hit back with strikes on Gulf energy assets, including Qatar’s Ras Laffan Liquefied Natural Gas (LNG) facility – the world’s largest.

This week, the average price of Urals oil – the Russian benchmark – was significantly higher than the pre-war price of less than $60, at around $90 per barrel.

Here’s more about who is buying Russian oil and which other nations might benefit from the oil crisis.

Why is Russian oil benefitting from the Iran war?

Iran’s effective closure of the Hormuz Strait, which is the only sea route from the Gulf to the open ocean, has “walled in” 20 million barrels of Gulf oil per day, George Voloshin, an independent energy analyst based in Paris, told Al Jazeera.

This has prompted the US to, at least temporarily, ease sanctions on shipped Russian oil to slow the ensuing energy crisis and potential global price collapse. The price of Brent crude, the international benchmark, has risen to above $100 a barrel since the closure of the strait, compared with about $65 before the war began.

Many analysts say a price of $200 is no longer “far-fetched”.

“Russia has emerged as a primary beneficiary of the Middle East conflict due to the massive supply vacuum created by the closure of the Strait of Hormuz,” Voloshin said. “Global refiners are desperate for alternative medium-sour crudes, a need that Russia’s Urals grade specifically meets.”

He added that the US decision to grant a temporary reprieve for shipped Russian oil “has provided Moscow with a critical window to maximise export volumes and oil revenues, essentially allowing Russian crude to act as the world’s primary swing supply during the Iranian blockade”.

How has the price of Russian oil been affected so far?

The price of Russian Urals has surged significantly, experts say. As a result of US sanctions, the oil had been trading at below $60 a barrel for some time. However, while “Urals historically traded at a significant discount to Brent due to Western sanctions”, Voloshin said, “that gap has narrowed as demand outstrips supply”.

“Since the beginning of the year, the price of Russian oil is estimated to have risen by nearly 80 percent – most recently close to $90 per barrel – and consistently trading well above the G7 price cap of $60 as buyers prioritise energy security over regulatory compliance in a high-volatility environment,” he added.

Are ships changing course to deliver Russian oil to new buyers?

Earlier this week, Bloomberg reported that at least seven tankers carrying Russian oil had changed course mid-voyage from China to India, citing data from Vortexa, the data analytics group.

Then, Indian media quoted Rakesh Kumar Sinha, special secretary in the Ministry of Ports, Shipping and Waterways, confirming that the Aqua Titan, a Russian oil-laden tanker originally destined for China, is now expected to arrive at New Mangalore port on March 21 having been chartered by Mangalore Refinery and Petrochemicals Limited (MPCL).

India was the first country to receive a time-limited exemption from the US Treasury to import Russian oil that is already at sea, Voloshin said.

“There is clear evidence of a massive logistical redirection of Russian oil cargoes mid-voyage. Several tankers originally bound for Chinese ports have, indeed, switched trajectory to India. This shift is driven by India’s aggressive pursuit of discounted distressed cargoes to fill its strategic reserves and meet domestic demand, as well as the increased risk and insurance costs associated with long-haul shipments to East Asia via contested waters.”

Until recently, Trump had been strongly pressuring India to stop buying Russian oil, even slapping additional 25 percent trade tariffs on India last year in punishment for doing so. This was lifted earlier this year when Trump claimed he had received assurances from India’s Prime Minister Narendra Modi that India would start buying US oil, or even Venezuelan oil seized by the US, instead.

Which countries are buying Russian oil now?

Indian media has reported that India’s purchases of Russian crude have surged in the past three weeks, since the war on Iran began and the Strait of Hormuz was closed.

“The primary buyers of Russian oil continue to be India and China, who together now account for the vast majority of Russia’s seaborne exports,” Voloshin said.

Turkiye is also a significant buyer, he added, now using Russian crude to stabilise its domestic market amid the gas shortages caused by the Israeli strikes on Iran’s South Pars field.

“Additionally, a shadow fleet of ageing tankers continues to move Russian oil to smaller, less-regulated refineries across Southeast Asia and the Middle East, often through complex ship-to-ship transfers designed to obscure the origin of the crude,” he added.

He said this shadow fleet is becoming the primary delivery mechanism for oil in several contested regions, meaning more buyers could appear. “Additionally, the degree of cooperation between the US and its European allies remains a wild card. If the EU continues to refuse participation in military operations near Iran, the diplomatic and economic pressure on the US to maintain the Russian oil reprieve will likely increase.”

Will Russian oil remain in demand if the US re-imposes sanctions?

If there is nowhere else to readily source oil, countries may continue to seek Russian crude even if the US reimposes sanctions, Voloshin said. The International Energy Agency (IEA) says the closure of the Hormuz Strait has caused a shortage of 8 million barrels of oil per day.

If that persists, “major importers like India may feel they have no choice but to continue buying Russian oil to prevent domestic economic collapse”, Voloshin said.

If secondary sanctions on Russian oil are reintroduced, he added, buyers may demand much lower prices to compensate for the increased legal and financial risks of dealing with Moscow. “At the same time, in the presence of a continued severe market disruption, the US is very likely to roll over [extend] current exemptions,” Voloshin said.

Which other energy-producing nations could benefit?

Two other major non-OPEC energy producers that could benefit are Norway and Canada, experts say. However, this will largely depend on their capacity to increase production.

“Norway has already signalled its intent to maintain maximum gas and oil production to support European energy security, primarily selling to EU nations seeking to replace lost Iranian and Russian volumes,” Voloshin said. “Canada is exploring ways to increase its export capacity to the US Gulf Coast. However, like Russia, its ability to significantly ramp up production in the short term is constrained by pipeline throughput and infrastructure bottlenecks.”

Beirut, Lebanon and Gaza City, Palestine – Along Beirut’s downtown waterfront, Alaa is looking for somewhere to rest his head.

The Syrian refugee, originally from the occupied Golan Heights, is now homeless. He explained that he had already spent the day wandering around the Lebanese capital trying to find shelter.

He used to live in Dahiyeh – the southern suburbs of Beirut that have been pummelled by Israeli attacks, which have now killed more than 1,000 across Lebanon.

Now, he’s just looking for somewhere he can be safe. And in that context, Eid al-Fitr, the Muslim festival that began on Friday, is far from his mind.

When asked if he had any plans for Eid, he replied in the negative. Instead, his focus was on getting a tent.

“I got rejected from staying in a school, then I went to sleep on the corniche,” Alaa said. “Then people from the municipality told me to come here to downtown Beirut’s waterfront.”

Alaa wasn’t able to find a tent and is sleeping in the open air for now. But others in the area have, transforming a downtown more famous for its expensive restaurants and bars into a tent city for those displaced by the fighting. Across Lebanon, more than a million people have been displaced.

Lebanese are uncertain when this war will end, particularly as they have barely recovered from the conflict with Israel that ran between October 2023 and November 2024.

It makes celebrations difficult – a common theme across the countries affected by the current conflict.

In Iran, now in its third week of US-Israeli attacks – with no sign of an immediate end and an economic crisis that preceded the conflict, people are struggling to afford any of the items typically bought during the holiday season.

And it is potentially dangerous for people to shop at places like Tehran’s grand bazaar, which has been damaged by the bombing.

The religious element of Eid adds an extra sensitivity for antigovernment Iranians, some of whom now see any sign of religiosity as support for the Islamic Republic. The fact that Nowruz – the Persian New Year – falls on Friday this year means that some in the antigovernment camp will be focused on that celebration instead, and eschewing any events to mark Eid.

Struggling in Gaza

Many Palestinians in Gaza want to celebrate Eid, but the enclave’s economic crisis, brought on by Israel’s genocidal war, makes it difficult.

Israeli restrictions on the entry of goods into Gaza, which have increased since the war against Iran started, have driven up prices further, including the cost of children’s toys.

Khaled Deeb, a 62-year-old living in a partially destroyed home in Gaza City, had ventured into the central Remal market, curious to see how expensive fruit and vegetables had gotten in the run-up to Eid.

“From the outside, the Eid atmosphere looks lively and vibrant,” Khaled said, pointing to the crowded market. “But financially, things are extremely bad. People have all left their homes and are now living in tents and displacement. Everyone has lost everything during the war.”

Khaled says he can’t afford the fruit and vegetables, and will have to go without. Only “kings” could buy them, he said, not “poor and exhausted people” like him.

What makes it worse is his memory of what things were like before the war, when he owned a supermarket.

“During Eid, I would give my daughters and sisters gifts of more than 3,000 shekels ($950) when visiting them, not to mention preparing the house, buying Eid clothes for my children, and sweets and chocolates to welcome the holiday,” Khaled said. None of that is going to happen this Eid, even with a ceasefire in Gaza.

His sentiment was echoed by Shireen Shreim, a mother of three.

“Our joy in Eid is incomplete,” she said, as she wandered through the market. “We have come out of two years of war with immense hardship, only to face a life where even the most basic necessities are unavailable.”

And with Israel showing few signs that it is willing to stop violently attacking Palestinians, as well as other countries in the region, Shireen has no idea when Gaza will ever be rebuilt.

“I live in an apartment with completely hollowed-out walls,” she explained. “My husband and I put up tarps and wood, and we are continuing our lives. We are much better off than others.”

“Every time I return home, I feel sad,” she added. “As you can see, people are living in nylon and cloth tents in the streets, without any humane shelter. How will these people celebrate Eid?”

Back in Beirut, Karim Safieddine, a political researcher and organiser, is stoic. He said he would be celebrating Eid with his extended family, despite the difficult circumstances.

“Although we have been displaced by the war, we believe that consolidating these family bonds and creating a sense of communal solidarity is the first and foremost condition to survive this war,” Karim said.

“Without solidarity, we won’t be able to build a society, a country,” he said. “I think that’s a starting point for many people attempting to really create a sense of forward-looking vision for a country under bombs, without any form of toxic positivity, of course.”

Concerns over US involvement

The war has reignited a debate within the Iranian diaspora about what role the US should play in Iran’s future.

This question is more than a distant geopolitical issue for Iranians in Los Angeles.

Many residents explained that their family histories had been shaped by US involvement in the region, whether it was through US support for Iran’s fallen monarchy or through the US decision to back Iraq’s invasion of Iran in 1980.

Aida Ashouri, a human rights lawyer who is running to be Los Angeles city attorney, was among those publicly condemning the latest US campaign in Iran at the city hall protest on February 28.

“This is a US imperialist war, and we have to make that clear,” she said. “Call a spade a spade. This war is not to liberate the women of Iran or the people of Iran.”

Ashouri was born during the Iran-Iraq war in the 1980s. Her hometown, Isfahan, was also bombed in June last year during the US and Israel’s 12-day war with Iran.

For Ashouri, it was telling that the US and Israel once again launched the first strike in the current conflict. For many legal experts, that made the conflict an unprovoked war of aggression, in violation of international law.

“A war implies two sides are actively engaged, but Iran has done nothing to be involved,” Ashouri said.

“This is a unilateral military invasion, an aggression of the United States and Israel. They are the ones with the power to end it by stopping the bombing.”

She and other protesters drew parallels between the current Iran war and the US-led wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, launched in 2003 and 2001, respectively.

“I lived through the shadow of the war on terror, all the propaganda talking points,” said Shany Ebadi, an Iranian American antiwar organiser with the ANSWER Coalition. “What the Trump administration is saying reminds me a lot of the Iraq war.”

As someone who follows the news closely, Ebadi remembers feeling alarm when the first strikes were launched in February.

“When I got the breaking news notification of the initial attack, my whole body felt paralysed. I felt anger and frustration,” she said.

She and Ashouri both said they fear the military operation in Iran could spark a regional war that might further destabilise not just Iran, but the entire Middle East.

“I fear that war will repeat the disasters seen in Palestine, Iraq, Libya, and Afghanistan,” Ashouri said, listing countries targeted in the US’s “war on terror” over the past two and a half decades.

The question of whether bombs can pave the way to freedom in Iran is a simple one for Ashouri and her fellow antiwar activists. The answer, they say, is simply no.

Khan Younis, Gaza Strip – Historic landmarks often withstand centuries of volatile change, but when rockets and missiles fall, even the most enduring stones become fragile.

For generations of families in Gaza’s southern city of Khan Younis, the Grain Market was the first stop when they went shopping.

Reaching it meant walking past the historic Barquq Castle, a centuries-old structure dating back to 1387 and the very foundation of Khan Younis.

But for residents, the castle was more than an old monument; it was a familiar landmark marking the entrance to one of the city’s liveliest commercial spaces.

The aromatic scent of spices and dried herbs would accompany any walk towards the Grain Market.

But that was before Israel’s genocidal war on Gaza began. Israeli attacks inflicted heavy damage on the Grain Market and the Barquq Castle. The market has now been reduced to shattered alleys, with dust and heavy silence filling the air.

Sitting in his store along a row of damaged old shops, 60-year-old Nahed Barbakh, one of the city’s oldest and most well-known traders of staple food supplies, spent decades watching customers stream through the market. Now, only a handful pass by his shop.

“I’ve been in this spot for decades, day in and day out, watching people bring life to this place,” Nahed said. “Look at it now – it’s empty. These days, there shouldn’t even be space to walk because of the crowds preparing for Eid.”

He paused before gesturing towards the nearby castle.

“We always felt the weight of history here because we are so close to Barquq Castle. Now that history and life itself have been struck by the occupation.”

But Israeli fire did not take into account the market’s historic status. The Grain Market, long considered the economic heart of Khan Younis, was also among the first sites of destruction during the second month of Israel’s genocidal war on Gaza. More than two years of Israeli bombardment and repeated waves of displacement have left the market unrecognisable.

“The occupation killed many of our friends who worked here,” Nahed said quietly. “Those who survived have been financially broken. That’s why you see most of these shops are still closed.”

He pointed to some shelves behind him.

“My shop used to be fully stocked with goods at its high capacity. We even had extra warehouses to supply what people needed, especially during the busiest seasons.”

Before he could finish his sentence, a deafening blast interrupted him — the sound of an Israeli tank fire.

“And this is the biggest reason people are afraid to return,” Nahed said abruptly. “The yellow line is only a few hundred metres away from this street. At any moment, bullets can reach here.”

The yellow line is the name given to the demarcation line behind which Israeli forces withdrew as part of the first phase of October’s ceasefire agreement. It effectively divides Gaza into two, and Palestinians have repeatedly been shot for approaching it.

The yellow line has divided Khan Younis, dramatically reshaping the city’s geography. Israel has repeatedly shifted the line, moving it deeper into Gaza.

The Grain Market, once firmly at the centre of urban life, now sits close to the yellow line.

What used to be the city’s commercial heart has effectively turned into its edge, where people hesitate to walk, leaving the revival of daily commerce life a distant prospect.

Centuries of endurance

The Grain Market traces its origins to the late 14th century, when the Mamluk ruler Younis al-Nawruzi established Khan Younis in 1387 as a strategic stop along the trade route linking Egypt and the Levant.

Built as an extension of the Barquq Castle, which functioned as a caravanserai for travelling merchants, the market became a central commercial hub where traders and travellers exchanged goods, moving between Africa, the Levant and beyond.

The Grain Market occupies roughly 2,400sq metres (25,830sq feet). Its single-floor shops line a central street running east to west, intersected by narrow alleys branching towards smaller courtyards. The buildings preserve elements of their original construction, including sandstone walls and traditional binding materials that have survived centuries of repairs and modifications.

Over time, the market evolved into the primary commercial centre of Khan Younis, adapting to modern commerce while retaining its historic character.

But today, many of its shops stand damaged or shuttered.

According to Gaza’s Ministry of Tourism and Antiquities, the market is now among more than 200 heritage sites damaged in attacks by Israeli forces across the Gaza Strip since October 2023.

At the southern end of the Grain Market, where rows of vegetable stalls once overflowed with fresh produce, only one makeshift stand has opened.

Om Saed al-Farra, a local, stepped cautiously towards the stall, inspecting the small piles of vegetables laid out on a wooden crate. The expression on her face reflected more than surprise; it was disbelief at what the market had become.

“The market is deplorable now,” she said. “There used to be many stalls here and many choices for people.”

She gestured towards the empty stretch of the market’s vegetable section, once one of its busiest corners.

“These days were once filled with extensive joyful preparations for Eid, when families crowded the market to shop for food and essentials,” al-Farra said. “Now the market feels unusually gloomy, its stalls largely empty and its familiar vibrance gone. Everything is limited. Even if you have money, there are hardly any places left here for us to buy from.”

Economic collapse under fire

Although parts of the market’s infrastructure remain physically standing, many traders have not returned.

According to Khan Younis Mayor Alaa el-Din al-Batta, the Grain Market was once one of the city’s most vital economic lifelines.

“Just as it once connected continents, even under blockade, it continued to connect people across Gaza,” al-Batta said. “It holds a deep place in the memory of our residents. But once again, the occupation has brought destruction, targeting both our history and a critical lifeline for the people.”

For nearly two decades, Israel has controlled Gaza’s land crossings, airspace and coastline under a strict blockade. Since the genocide began in October 2023, restrictions have tightened further, pushing businesses and trade to collapse.

In a narrow western alley where scattered stones cover the ground, two cloaks hung outside a small shop. Inside, 57-year-old tailor Mohammad Abdul Ghafour leaned over his sewing machine, carefully stitching a torn shirt.

His shop was the only one open in the grey alley.

“I’ve been here since childhood,” Abdul Ghafour said. “My father opened this shop in 1956, and I grew up learning the profession right here in the market.”

Israel’s bombardment not only destroyed the place where he worked; it also killed dozens of his family members.

“On December 7, 2023, Israel committed a horrific massacre against my family,” he said. “I lost my father, my brothers, and more than 30 relatives.”

Burying his family members was only the beginning of the long, painful separation from the market and his shop.

“We were forced into displacement more than 12 times. I had many chances to leave as two of my children live in Europe,” Abdul Ghafour said. “But all I could think about was returning to my shop.”

When Israeli forces withdrew to the yellow line, he came back alone.

“I cleaned the street by myself. And if I had to do it again, I would. Whoever loves his land never abandons it,” he said. “I charge my batteries for my machine and come every day. My return encouraged some residents to come back too. But people still need shelter, water, and basic services before more families return.”

Resident Mohammad Shahwan stood in Nahed’s shop checking a list of items he hoped to buy.

“We left the crowded al-Mawasi as soon as we could to return to our damaged home,” he said, referring to the stretch of coastal Khan Younis that thousands of Palestinians have been forcibly displaced to. “But the number of residents here is still very small because of the destruction and lack of services.”

Still, Mohammad Shahwan said he was relieved to find the shop open at all.

“For the first time in two years, we’ll make traditional Eid biscuits,” he said, holding the list of ingredients. “The last two Eids were dark for my family after we lost my 17-year-old son, Salama. He and his aunt were killed by an Israeli strike.”

He could have bought the now-expensive supplies elsewhere, he said, but returning to the Grain Market carried its own meaning. “I wanted to buy them from here, just like we always did.”

Waiting for restoration

According to Mayor al-Batta, restoring the historic market will require a major reconstruction effort.

“The Grain Market needs a comprehensive restoration process to function again,” he said. “So far, our work has only been limited to clearing rubble and delivering limited water supplies for returning residents.”

The rebuilding process will require specialised materials and expert restoration work to preserve what is left of the historic structure. Municipal workers have already collected leftover stones from the ruins in the hope that they can one day be used in rebuilding parts of the market.

But reconstruction remains impossible under current conditions.

“More than five months have passed since the ceasefire began, yet not a single bag of cement has entered Gaza,” al-Batta said.

“We want to restore our historic identity and revive life for our people. But neither can happen while Israeli restrictions and violations continue.”

For years, Beirut’s southern suburb has been spoken about as though it were a world apart: A Hezbollah bastion, a target, a warning, or a battlefield. But in Arabic, the word “dahiyeh” simply means “the suburb”.

The word itself is ordinary. What makes it extraordinary in Lebanon is its history.

When the Lebanese speak of Dahiyeh, they do not mean any suburb of their capital city. They mean southern Beirut in particular – a dense belt of neighbourhoods that grew from villages, fields, informal housing and municipal edges into a major extension of the city.

Dahiyeh – in size nearly as big as municipal Beirut – has been shaped by migration and displacement in the past 50 years. While many moved there in search of work or housing, most of the others were pushed there by wars, political unrest, evictions and a general sense of being neglected by the Lebanese state.

The social geography of Lebanon, which gained independence from French colonisers in 1943, began to be transformed in 1948 when Israel’s establishment saw the expulsion of more than 700,000 Palestinians from their land in what is commonly referred to as the Nakba. After Israel’s further occupation of Palestinian lands in 1967 and the expulsion of Palestinian fighters from Jordan in 1970, southern Lebanon and parts of Beirut became increasingly bound up with the Palestinian national movement.

Beirut’s ‘belt of misery’

Dahiyeh’s growth, however, accelerated after 1975, when the Lebanese civil war broke out. People displaced from other parts of Beirut moved south. The subsequent Israeli attacks and invasions in 1978 and 1982 drove more people to the edge of the capital. In that sense, Dahiyeh was not just a destination for “migrants”. It was also a refuge for the uprooted, the poor, and those repeatedly forced to start over.

Studies by scholars such as Mona Harb, professor of urban studies and politics at the American University of Beirut (AUB), show how a common noun – Dahiyeh – gradually evolved into a distinct political space: A stigmatised periphery marked in the Lebanese imagination as Beirut’s “belt of misery” that hardened into a territory with its own social and political significance. Today, it is part of Greater Beirut, woven into the capital geographically, economically and socially, even if the country’s politics may have treated the area as an outlier.

Harb’s work explicitly frames the southern suburb as a politically produced urban territory rather than just a space outside Beirut. To understand how that happened, one has to begin with the making of modern Lebanon.

Under the French Mandate, and later through the political order consolidated at independence in 1943, power in Lebanon was distributed through a sectarian system that heavily favoured the established elites, especially the Maronite Christians, who dominated the presidency and other key positions. The system not only created inequality, but also formalised and reproduced it.

Rural Lebanon, especially the south and the Bekaa Valley, remained underdeveloped and politically neglected for decades. Among those most affected were Lebanon’s Shia community, who were disproportionately concentrated in the poorer agricultural regions and had less access to state investments, infrastructure and patronage than the more privileged urban and mountainous centres. Scholars say it was not simply a temporary developmental gap, but a long history of marginalisation that defined the country’s politics.

Israeli attacks on Palestinian positions inside Lebanon repeatedly hit the surrounding Lebanese communities as well, mainly in the south. For the Shia in southern Lebanon, these attacks sharpened a bitter awareness: They were living on the front lines of a bitter regional conflict, while they were also being denied equal economic rights and meaningful political inclusion in Lebanon itself.

Out of that reality emerged a new form of Shia political mobilisation centred not only on identity, but also on deprivation, dignity and state neglect. That mobilisation found its earliest expression in Harakat al-Mahroumin, the Movement of the Deprived, founded by Imam Musa al-Sadr in the 1970s. Al-Sadr became a towering figure of modern Lebanese Shia politics because he gave social, religious and political forms to grievances building up for decades. That movement later grew an armed wing: Amal.

Al-Sadr’s mysterious disappearance during a 1978 trip to Libya remains unresolved and politically contested to this day. What is not contested is his historical importance. He helped turn the Shia of Lebanon from a neglected rural underclass into an organised political constituency demanding equal rights, representation, and a defining national presence.

The rise of Hezbollah

The 1982 Israeli invasion of Lebanon changed the Shia political landscape yet again. Israel’s siege of Beirut, the departure of Palestinian icon Yasser Arafat and his Palestine Liberation Organization forces, and Syria’s desire to dominate Lebanon all intensified divisions within Lebanese society.

Amal, which meanwhile had grown closer to Damascus to get weapons, money and political backing, remained a major force. But new Islamist movements emerged from within and around it, shaped by the Israeli occupation, disillusionment with older leaderships, and increasing support from Iran’s Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps, especially in the Bekaa region.

Over time, these currents crystallised into Hezbollah. The split within the Shia movement was less theological and more about political strategy, defined by questions over aligning more closely with Syria, solidarity with the Palestinians, and general resistance against the Israeli occupation. Differences between Amal and Hezbollah over these questions turned violent in the 1980s, an intra-Shia fighting that Lebanese often recall as “a war among brothers”.

As Hezbollah grew stronger, Dahiyeh became much more than a residential belt. It turned into an urban heartland of a social and political force. Hezbollah built institutions there: Offices, schools, clinics, welfare networks and media infrastructure. Amal also had a presence, but the common shorthand that reduces Dahiyeh to a “Hezbollah stronghold” always conceals more than it reveals.

Today, Dahiyeh hosts a Shia majority, but also has a small minority of Palestinians and other Lebanese communities, including Christians. It bleeds physically into what is known as Greater Beirut, including its Christian and mixed areas. So when the suburb is bombed, it is not some isolated military island that is hit, but a deeply inhabited part of urban Beirut.

That is precisely why Dahiyeh is so central to the Israeli military’s thinking. During the 2006 war, large sections of the southern suburb, especially Haret Hreik, were devastated by Israel. The destruction became so emblematic that Israeli military strategists came up with what came to be known as the Dahiyeh Doctrine: Use of overwhelming force and large-scale destruction of areas associated with an armed group, with the aim of generating deterrence and putting pressure on residents supporting the group. Rights activists and legal scholars say the doctrine violates international humanitarian law, as civilian neighbourhoods and infrastructure do not become legitimate targets simply because an armed group is embedded among the population.

That Israeli pattern, however, has intensified since October 2023, when a genocidal war on Gaza and attacks on Lebanon began. Meanwhile, the killing of Hezbollah leader Hassan Nasrallah in an Israeli strike in late 2024 eroded Dahiyeh’s resistance. That erosion is more visible in the ongoing Israeli attacks on Beirut and southern Lebanon, where more than a million people have registered as displaced since March 2. The old formula – that Dahiyeh was the principal red line and that any strikes there could be deterred by Hezbollah’s threats of retaliatory strikes on several Israeli cities – no longer holds.

Once again, Dahiyeh has become a focal point of the war, with repeated bombardment sending plumes of smoke over a place that many outsiders still describe as a world apart, but which is in fact woven into Beirut’s daily life. Built over decades by the poor, the migrants and the repeatedly uprooted – and shaped by the politics of marginalisation against those whom al‑Sadr once named “the deprived” – Dahiyeh has long served as both a refuge and a front line. Today, it is again being made to carry the costs of a conflict larger than itself.

In a devastated enclave where more than two million Palestinians remain crammed into a shrinking strip of land under the overwhelming shadow of Israeli military occupation and bombardment, daily survival is tethered to a fragile October “ceasefire”.

But as Israeli and US bombs rain down on Iran, and Tehran retaliates across the region, that battered truce faces a breaking point, prompting an unprecedented diplomatic manoeuvre: direct talks between United States President Donald Trump’s “Board of Peace” and Hamas.

Envoys from the new body, personally headed by Trump to oversee post-war Gaza, but with more far-reaching designs, met with Hamas representatives in the Egyptian capital over the weekend, according to the Reuters news agency.

The meetings aimed to safeguard the “ceasefire”, which has been under even more severe strain since the regional war began on February 28.

Following the talks, Israel announced it would partially reopen the Rafah border crossing between Gaza and Egypt on Wednesday. The crossing, Gaza’s sole pedestrian lifeline outside direct Israeli control, was shut when the Iran offensive began.

Despite the diplomatic push, violence in the enclave persists. Israeli strikes on Sunday killed at least 13 Palestinians including two boys, a pregnant woman, and nine police officers, serving as a stark reminder of Israel’s all-encompassing military grip on the territory.

A pragmatic shift or tactical ploy?

While the talks mark a notable engagement by Washington, analysts view the move not as a legitimisation of the Palestinian group, but as a calculated tactic underpinned by the threat of renewed violence.

Abdullah Aqrabawi, a Palestinian political analyst, noted that Washington’s willingness to meet Hamas reflects a stark reality on the ground. “There is a comprehensive, realistic acknowledgement that the main military, political, and social actor in the Gaza Strip is Hamas,” Aqrabawi told Al Jazeera.

However, he warned against viewing the meetings as a fundamental shift in US policy. In the era of the Trump administration, diplomatic meetings do not equate with political recognition. Instead, Aqrabawi argued, the approach is framed by the constant threat of a return to a “war of extermination”.

The ultimate goal of these talks, he explained, is to empower a newly formed technocratic committee in Gaza to build a social base capable of challenging the armed group.

The illusion of ‘reverse blackmail’

Initial reports suggested that Hamas had threatened to abandon the “ceasefire” if Gaza border restrictions continued, purportedly using the regional chaos of the Iran war to force Israel’s hand.

Aqrabawi dismissed this assessment, noting that Hamas has consistently expressed a desire to avoid a return to full-scale war. Rather than a successful Palestinian pressure campaign, he said the reopening of the Rafah crossing serves a different strategic purpose for Washington and Tel Aviv.

“Any facilities, whether the Rafah crossing or allowing aid entry, come through the “Board of Peace” and the new technocratic committee formed in the Gaza Strip,” Aqrabawi said. “It is not a response to negotiations or Palestinian pressure, but rather in the context of allowing this committee to penetrate Palestinian society.”

He added that this aims to establish a security foundation that allows for the disarmament of the resistance, even if it leads to internal Palestinian civil conflict.

Disarmament and the 20-point plan

Prior to the regional escalation, Trump’s flagship Middle East initiative – a 20-point plan for Gaza – had partially halted the mass killings and secured the release of Israeli military captives and some Palestinian prisoners. In exchange, Hamas accepted a ceasefire that left the Israeli military occupying more than half of the enclave.

But the second phase of Trump’s plan, which hinges on Hamas laying down its weapons in exchange for amnesty and reconstruction, remains deadlocked. While some might assume the regional conflict gives Hamas leverage to scrap the disarmament clause entirely, Aqrabawi suggested the opposite is unfolding.

The US and Israel, heavily engaged in Iran, are likely intensifying pressure on the Palestinian group to secure a swift, enforceable victory in Gaza. “The pressure happening today on the occupation government and the American perspective of the war with Iran may push them to pressure Hamas to accomplish this task as quickly as possible,” Aqrabawi said.

Yet, Hamas remains resolute. The group views its weapons as essential for resisting the occupation and forming the foundation of future Palestinian security institutions.

As Washington and Tel Aviv attempt to use the spectre of renewed genocide to engineer Gaza’s political future, the reality for the Palestinians trapped inside the enclave remains unchanged. For them, the partial reopening of a single border crossing is not a diplomatic breakthrough, but a fleeting gasp of air in a besieged Gaza Strip where daily survival is held hostage to the demands of the military occupation.

Turkana, Kenya – In the relentless heat of Kainama in Turkana county, Veronica Akalapatan and her neighbours walk several kilometres each day to a half-dried-up well surrounded by the parched earth of northern Kenya.

The dug-out hole in the ground with a wooden ladder is the only source of water in the area. Hundreds of people from several villages – and their livestock – share the well, most waiting hours to fill up small plastic buckets with meagre amounts of unclean water.

“Once we get here, we dig for water in the well and collect fruit. We wait for the water to fill the well,” says Akalapatan. “We take turns to fetch it because there is so little. There are many of us, and sometimes we fight over it.”

In Turkana, the land is rugged, roads disappear into dust, and villages are scattered across vast distances in a county of just more than a million people.

Despite it being the rainy season, weather experts warn that Turkana and other arid regions may receive little relief.

Authorities say drought is once again taking place, with 23 of Kenya’s 47 counties affected. An estimated 3.4 million people do not have enough to eat, at least 800,000 children show signs of malnutrition, and livestock – the backbone of pastoral life – are dying.

In Turkana alone, 350,000 households are on the brink of starvation.

“We are suffering from hunger,” Turkana elder Peter Longiron Aemun tells Al Jazeera.

“We don’t have water. Our livestock have died. We have nothing. We used to burn charcoal, but there are no acacia trees any more.”

Kenya is still recovering from one of its worst droughts in 40 years, which gripped the country between 2020 and 2023. The new weather crisis will likely make things worse.

But at the same time, experts note a stark paradox: Scarcity amid abundance.

Food loss and food waste

While families face acute water shortages and hunger – with boreholes broken down, and wells and streams dried up – Lake Turkana’s water levels have risen in recent years, displacing some shoreline communities.

In other areas, sudden heavy rains trigger flash floods in normally dry riverbeds – known locally as luggas – yet the land remains largely barren. The water comes too fast, runs off too quickly and cannot sustain agriculture.

At the same time, while droughts lessen food supplies and global donor funding cuts have reduced food aid, not too far away, experts say, there is a surplus of food that does not make its way to those who need it.

“In Kenya, a quarter of the population faces severe food insecurity, even as up to 40% of the food produced is lost or wasted each year,” according to a September report by the World Resources Institute (WRI).

Food loss occurs on farms, and during the handling, storage and transportation of supplies, while food waste occurs in households, restaurants and in the retail sphere, WRI researchers noted.

In parts of the North Rift – one of Kenya’s breadbaskets – farmers have recorded good harvests. But high prices and widespread poverty mean pastoralist families in Turkana cannot easily afford food transported from surplus regions.

Security adds another layer of strain. Competition over water and pasture fuels tensions, cattle raids persist, armed bandits operate in remote areas, and security forces struggle to contain violence amid logistical and political challenges.

“The biggest problem in drought areas is security,” says Joseph Kamande, a food trader in Wangige in central Kenya.

Still, he believes the country has the potential to feed itself with better planning.

“The land is vast. Some of it is arable,” he says, adding that “water is the solution.”

Untapped aquifers

In Turkana, though there is severe drought, there are also untapped natural resources.

Hundreds of metres underground are multiple aquifers, layers of rock and soil containing water. The government is hoping to tap into these sources.

In 2013, two major aquifers were discovered, the Napuu aquifer and the Lotikipi aquifer. The largest covers roughly 5,000km (3,100 miles) and holds about 250 trillion litres (66 trillion gallons) of water.

It is said to have the capacity to supply Kenya with water for decades.

However, much of the water is salty and expensive to purify, so the project has stalled.

“The big challenge is salinity,” says Turkana County Water Director Paul Lotum.

“The national government and partners are mapping out pockets where water is safe and reliable. We are working bit by bit to harness it for communities.”

Until then, relief food remains essential for Turkana communities.

The government’s disaster management teams and other agencies are distributing water and food. But supplies are stretched thin. And getting aid to those who need it most is nearly impossible in some areas.

“Most government organisations are either closed or running leaner programmes,” says Jacob Ekaran, Turkana’s coordinator for the National Drought Management Authority.

“The resource basket has shrunk. But the government is trying to do more with what it has.”

‘I can’t find food’

When supplies run low, many people turn to wild berries and fruits.

In Lopur village, resident Akal Loyeit Etangana harvests berries that she then cooks in a small pot over an outdoor fire.

She says she has not had a proper meal in two weeks, so the fruit mixture keeps hunger away. Still, it carries almost no nutritional value.

“If it doesn’t rain, trees and leaves dry up. There is no water,” she laments, adding that clinics are also very far away and people have to walk long distances to get help.

In another village, Napeillim, resident Christine Kiepa worries that there is no food.

“I try to look for food. Sometimes it’s not there,” she says. “If I can’t find food, how do I survive?” she asks.

Villages in the region are slowly emptying. Male herders, who are usually the providers for their families, have moved to neighbouring counties in search of pasture and water for their dying livestock.

Only the elderly, women, young children and the weakest animals remain in the homesteads.

Still, there have been some gains in the region.

Since Kenya adopted a devolved system of government in 2013, Turkana has seen new schools and health centres built, irrigation schemes launched, boreholes drilled, and some roads tarmacked. Officials say investments in drought response have strengthened resilience.

“In the past, drought always degenerated into disaster. You would see reports of deaths,” says Ekaran from the drought management authority. “We are coming from one of the worst droughts in 40 years, but we did not record deaths. That is because of resilience building.”

Painful cycle

For generations, northern Kenya’s nomadic communities have depended on livestock. But climate change is forcing a reckoning. Calls for diversification – irrigation, drought-resistant crops and trees, large dams – have grown louder.

“We can change our community mindset,” says Rukia Abubakar, Turkana coordinator for the Red Cross.

“We can plant drought-resistant trees. We can do irrigation. Our soil is good for crop farming.”

These proposals are not new. They have surfaced after every drought, repeated in policy papers and political speeches.

Yet for many people in Turkana, the cycle feels painfully familiar and daily survival remains precarious.

Back in Kainama, Akalapatan and her neighbours walk back from the water well through the vast, arid landscape, carrying a collection of filled yellow plastic buckets.

They finally return to their small community of thatched huts.

Akalapatan has managed to collect 20 litres (5 gallons) of water for her family for the day.

Her son eagerly fills a cup and gulps it down.

But she knows that what she has is barely enough for everyone, and she will soon have to make the journey to the well again.

SHE is an Oscar-winner married to a former James Bond, but Rachel Weisz says Hollywood made her feel so ugly she considered having plastic surgery.

When the British beauty first went there in the Nineties, she contemplated a nose job, boob job or liposuction to get noticed and boost her career.

Rachel, now 56 and one of the world’s most sought-after stars, said: “I went into quite a major depression.

“I was watching so many daytime TV shows. And then I would get in my car and drive to these auditions while listening to the radio.

“I feel sick now when I listen to the radio, all these commercials for different car dealers.

“I just felt like the world was so desperate and lonely and sad and people were trying to sell cars and no one wanted to buy them.

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“People are very focused on their own thing. In LA unless you’ve just won an Oscar or you’re ‘Mr Studio Head’, no one talks to you. Even at parties. I was at this big Hollywood party, and no one looked.

“Everyone is blinkered and they just kind of scan the room for ­anyone important. LA makes you feel ugly. Because if you’re an actress, no one pays you any attention.

“And you immediately start thinking, ‘God, I must have a nose job. Or, I must get that boob job, or I must get that lipo’, whatever it is.”

For Rachel, who started her career with bit-parts on Inspector Morse and whose new thriller Vladimir was released on Netflix on March 5, real success and happiness came when she turned her back on the glitz and glamour of Los Angeles.

She decided to split her time between London, where she grew up, and New York with her then-partner, director Darren Aronofsky, and their son Henry, now 19.

Rachel, who has been married to 007 actor Daniel Craig since 2011, told Index mag: “There’s not much room for eccentricity in Hollywood, and eccentricity is what’s sexy in people.

“I think London’s sexy because it’s so full of eccentrics.”

The actress’s breakthrough came in 1999 when she landed the role of feisty librarian Evelyn Carnahan in blockbuster The Mummy.

By 2006 her A-list status was cemented when she won the Best Supporting Actress Oscar for The Constant Gardener.

She went on to star in 2009’s The Lovely Bones and 2015’s Youth, as well as 2021 Marvel film Black Widow.

Now Vladimir sees her as ­married college professor M, whose life spirals into a steamy, all-consuming obsession with her younger colleague, played by One Day and White Lotus star Leo Woodall.

The series is based on the book of the same name by Julia May Jonas, which Rachel describes as a ­brilliant piece of writing.

She added of the character she plays: “I deeply empathise with her and understand her. But I left her when I got home.

“She’s like a projection of what a viewer might want to live out.”

Rachel and Daniel, who ­officially ended his 15-year stint as James Bond with No Time To Die in 2021, were friends for years before falling for each other in 2010 while filming thriller Dream House.

Within months they secretly wed in New York and went on to have daughter Grace, now seven. They split their time between Brooklyn in New York and ­Primrose Hill in North London.

But the couple deliberately choose not to do films together.

Rachel said: “I think we really love our private life as a life, as a family, and then we go to work separately.

“It means we can alternate, so I can stay home with the family while he works. We can swap out. If we’re both doing ­something at the same time, it’s probably less ideal.”

Rachel grew up in ­Hampstead, North London, with dad George, a Hungarian-Jewish mechanical engineer, and mum Edith, who originated from ­Austria and was a teacher-turned-psychotherapist.

The star started modelling at 14 and studied English at ­Cambridge University, with her parents hoping she would choose a more traditional career.

Rachel told the Sunday Sitdown With Willie Geist podcast: “They were just the kind of ­parents who were like, ‘You’ve got to get a degree, like you have to go to ­college’, which in the end I did.

“They wanted me to have a fall-back, so I could be a teacher . . . that would be a really good job.

“My parents would be really happy if I was a teacher. My dad was very sceptical about my career choice. I think he wasn’t very impressed by what I was doing.

“He was my harshest critic for a very long time. I think he only, after a good 15 years, was like, ‘OK, yeah’.

“He was tough — yeah, he was tough, in a good way. He was always honest, he didn’t make it nice. He’d take things apart and say, ‘I didn’t understand what you were doing,’ or, ‘That was a bit wooden’.”

But winning her Oscar changed everything.

Rachel said: “That definitely changed my life. Maybe my dad was like, ‘OK, all right, you were OK’.

“He would never be more over the top than that.”

And that Oscar meant she had the freedom to choose the roles she truly wanted, just like the one in Vladimir.

She said: “In the beginning of my career, I just did whatever job I got so I could pay the rent. I wasn’t picky.

“Now I’m in this luxurious position where I can choose things. It’s really about the character and writing, if it appeals to me or if it seems it would be interesting to ­pretend that story.

“I was never the kind of kid that got on the table and did a tap dance and a song. I wasn’t the star of the school plays or ­anything. I was ­actually really shy.

“I think a lot of actors, when I meet them as grown-ups, they go, ‘I was really shy too’.

“I think I’m just a daydreamer. I think storytelling is, in a way, daydreaming, but ­putting your daydreams into ­writing and getting people to embody them.

“I think my daydreaming skills have just come into it, I get paid for it.”

Despite now being praised for her stylish looks, ranging from velvet trouser suits to Valentino haute ­couture, walking the red carpet still makes Rachel nervous even today.

She said: “I don’t think any actress would say doing the red ­carpet is not terrifying. The way to get through it is to pretend.

“It’s a fantasy, like walking into a fantasy world. These people, they transform you, and that is fun.

“What you see on the red ­carpet is not a character that has anything to say.

“I used to be very shy, and in a way that was what was so great about the idea of ­acting. You can hide the real you behind that character.”

But after years of ­struggling with fame, Rachel says she has finally learned to be ­content with exactly where she is in life.

She said: “Someone once said to me when I was younger, ‘Never think the best party is somewhere else’. You know that feeling of being somewhere and thinking you should go somewhere better?

“You can’t do that. ­Wherever you are is the right place to be.”

Vancouver, Canada – Prime Minister Mark Carney’s efforts to unite Canadians around protecting the nation’s economy from the US are hitting roadblocks as he nears one year in power.

Indigenous peoples across Canada are increasingly divided over Carney’s aggressive push to expand resource extraction and projects on their ancestral lands.

Some experts question how his government can advance its agenda while respecting Indigenous rights enshrined in the country’s constitution.

March 14 will mark one year since Carney, former head of Canada’s central bank, was sworn into office.

After an election last year, his centrist Liberal party formed a minority government with the highest share of the popular vote in 40 years.

A key to Carney’s victory was his pledge to “stand strong” against US trade threats and grow Canada’s economic sovereignty, an assertive approach the prime minister has called “elbows up”.

“In the face of global trade shifts … we will build big and build fast to create a stronger, more sustainable, more independent economy,” Carney said in a statement on March 6.

Part of that push was to create a Major Projects Office to speed up approvals of economic developments, starting by fast-tracking 10 mega-projects.

They include two massive liquefied natural gas (LNG) plants and an open-pit mine in British Columbia, a nuclear plant in Ontario, a Quebec shipping terminal, and wind power in Atlantic Canada.

Those developments are worth 116 billion Canadian dollars ($85bn), the government estimates.

‘Our rights get pushed to the side’

Carney’s approach to the US trade war has gained support from Canadians, according to recent opinion surveys.

A March 3 poll of 1,500 citizens by Abacus Data found that 50 percent say Carney is protecting Canada’s core interests when dealing with Trump — compared with 36 percent with negative views.

“Whenever Canada is threatened, the protectionist nature of the state kind of re-emerges,” said Shady Hafez, assistant politics professor at Toronto Metropolitan University.

“Self-preservation of Canada becomes the priority.”

Hafez, a research associate with the Yellowhead Institute, is a member of the Kitigan Zibi Anishinabeg First Nation in Quebec.

He said there are growing concerns in his community and others about Carney’s push to accelerate mega-projects across the country.

“For that to happen, Canada needs land, and it needs resources,” Hafez said, “and it takes those lands and resources from us.”

Blowback was swift after Carney pledged to build a highly controversial oil pipeline to the west coast in a late November deal signed with Alberta, Canada’s oil powerhouse.

Carney’s culture minister swiftly resigned, decrying “no consultation” with Indigenous nations and “major environmental impacts”.

And the Assembly of First Nations (AFN), which represents more than 600 Indigenous chiefs, unanimously passed an emergency resolution opposing a new pipeline.

“First Nations people, we stand with Canada against Trump’s illegal tariffs, but not at the expense of our rights,” AFN National Chief Cindy Woodhouse Nepinak told Al Jazeera in an interview. “If you want to fast-track anything, you better make sure that First Nations are being included right off the bat.

“Trying to sideswipe or push aside First Nations people when there’s agreements between provinces and the feds — they have to remember that First Nations are here … and they are to be respected in their own homelands.”

The rights of Indigenous people in the country are enshrined in Canada’s constitution.

But too often, Hafez said, in the name of national prosperity, “Indigenous communities have to suffer.”

“Whenever there’s somewhat of an emergency, our rights get pushed to the side.”

But the resistance to the major projects push isn’t universal.

The First Nations Natural Gas Alliance praised Carney’s “much more aggressive” approach compared with his predecessor on developing energy resources.

But the group’s CEO, Karen Ogen, acknowledged there’s a “highly charged environment” on such issues.

“First Nations communities continue to face significant socioeconomic barriers”, stated the former chief of Wet’suwet’en First Nation. “LNG and natural gas development are not just an opportunity; they are a national imperative.

“Billions of dollars in procurement benefits and revenues are flowing to First Nations.”

Call for collaboration ‘on all major projects’

The trade war with the US has galvanised and united many Canadians — but with little acknowledgement of the impacts on Indigenous communities, said Sheryl Lightfoot, political science professor at the University of Toronto.

Lightfoot is vice-chair of the UN Expert Mechanism on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples.

“These projects, by many accounts, are advancing without full consultation or transparency”, she told Al Jazeera.

“It appears that economic or geopolitical pressures … are being used to justify bypassing Indigenous rights and environmental safeguards.”

But Canada’s Major Projects Office insists it will “seek input, hear concerns and ideas, and work in partnership moving forward” with Indigenous communities — and “will not be skipping over vital project steps including consultations with Indigenous Peoples,” an agency spokesperson wrote in an emailed statement.

“We are unlocking Canada’s economic potential, while respecting our environmental responsibilities and the rights of Indigenous Peoples,”

A significant number of projects on Carney’s fast-track list are concentrated in British Columbia (BC).

Those include two liquefied natural gas (LNG) terminals on the Pacific coast — LNG Canada and Ksi Lisims LNG — as well as the electric transmission line to power the sector, and a copper and gold mine.

BC is unique in the country because, historically, very little of its land was subject to treaties between the Crown and First Nations. Canada’s top court has repeatedly ruled in favour of First Nations rights and title in the westernmost province.

All four major projects in the province have proven divisive among the region’s Indigenous peoples — even though several have the backing of individual First Nations governments.

One of those is the massive Ksi Lisims LNG plant, in which the Nisga’a Nation is a direct partner.

Co-developed with Texas-based Western LNG, the mega-project will “benefit all Canadians,” said Nisga’a President Eva Clayton.

In 2000, her nation became the first in BC to reach a modern self-government treaty.

“We are co-developing the Ksi Lisims LNG project on land that our nation owns under our treaty,” she told a parliamentary committee on February 24.

“This project is expected to bring in 30 billion [Canadian] dollars [$22bn] in investment, create thousands of skilled careers, and strengthen Canada’s leadership in low-emission LNG.”

‘Elbows up’ meets opposition

But LNG is fiercely opposed by other nearby First Nations.

Tara Marsden is Wilp sustainability director for the Gitanyow Hereditary Chiefs, traditional leaders of the 900-member Gitanyow community.

“We have a lot more concerns and evidence regarding impacts in our territory,” she said.

“The federal government has done zero consultation on their fast-track list and the projects that actually affect our territory.”

Gitanyow oppose the BC projects on the fast-track list as harming their interests.

She said Ottawa cannot ignore First Nations opposition, even if there is support from others like the Nisga’a.

“They have a right to develop in their own territories”, said Marsden. “But if you have maybe 20 to 30 First Nations whose territory would be crossed — and you get maybe three on board — that’s not a resounding consensus.

“They’re just trying to use this small handful of nations to steamroll over everybody else.”

If Canada truly wants to strengthen its sovereignty and economy, she said, it must do so alongside Indigenous people.

“This is something that First Nations across the country have been saying since Carney took the ‘elbows up’ approach,” Marsden said.

“The government has really just ignored that … and actually now back-stopping these mega-projects with taxpayer dollars.”

Free, prior and informed consent

McGill University economics lecturer Julian Karaguesian served for decades in the Department of Finance and Canada’s Embassy in Washington, DC.

He agreed that most Canadians support Carney’s attempt to boost the economy with “nation-building” projects.

“I think they’re a fantastic idea”, he told Al Jazeera. “But we’ve committed to consultations with First Nations, Metis and Inuit people.

“Once we’ve started compromising on economic and social justice … we can create bitterness. First Nations leaders understand the situation we’re in, and I think [Ottawa] can work with them.”

Even on projects endorsed by some First Nations, the international legal principle of “free, prior and informed consent” must still apply to other communities impacted, said Lightfoot.

That’s “not simply a procedural requirement” to rubber-stamp projects, she said.

“It is a substantive right, anchored in Indigenous peoples’ self-determination and their ability to make decisions about matters that affect their lands, communities, and futures.”

And that could risk slowing down Carney’s hopes to speed through projects if there is no Indigenous consensus — potentially tying more divisive ones up in the courts.

“Failure to include Indigenous knowledge and decision-making early in the process,” Lightfoot said, “can undermine the legitimacy and fairness of project approvals.”

Carney’s ratings among First Nations are “mixed,” says AFN’s national chief. One positive, she noted, is his openness to meeting Indigenous leaders raising concerns.

But with many of the prime minister’s economic hopes dependent on building “national interest” infrastructure on First Nations homelands, Woodhouse Nepinak said the relationship needs care.

“Carney is at a crossroads in his personal relationship with First Nations,” she said.

“And we understand First Nations rights are under threat in new ways by this government.”

Mukalla, Yemen – A reported decision to impose thousands of dollars in fees on shipping headed for Yemen has experts worried that the price of imported goods and food will increase in the war-torn country, as it starts to feel the economic impact of the United States and Israel’s conflict with Iran.

Local traders and officials have said that international shipping companies informed importers earlier this month of the imposition of new fees of about $3,000 on each container bound for Yemen, described as “war risk” fees. The surprise move prompted government officials to scramble to assess and address its potential repercussions.

Because Yemen imports nearly 90 percent of its food and other essential commodities, economists and humanitarian organisations warn that the rise in shipping and insurance costs could quickly translate into higher prices for fuel, food and other goods, further worsening an already dire humanitarian situation.

Mohsen al-Amri, transport minister in Yemen’s internationally-recognised government based in the southern city of Aden, said he had instructed that the fees not be paid by ships already docked at Yemeni ports or those bound for the country, insisting that the ports remain safe.

“Our ports are far from the areas of geopolitical tension in the Gulf and the Strait of Hormuz, making the imposition of ‘risk’ fees on shipments to these relatively safe areas unjustified from both operational and security perspectives,” he said in a social media post last week.

Al Jazeera has reached out to shipping companies to confirm details of the fee, but has yet to receive responses.

For more than a decade, Yemen has been gripped by a bloody war between the Saudi-backed government, based in Aden, and the Iran-aligned Houthi movement, which controls the capital, Sanaa. The conflict has killed and wounded thousands of people and displaced millions, creating what the United Nations once described as the world’s worst humanitarian crisis. Hostilities have significantly declined since April 2022, when the warring parties agreed to a temporary United Nations-brokered truce.

‘High-risk’

Abdulrab al-Khulaqui, deputy chairman of the Yemen Gulf of Aden Ports Corporation, said Yemeni ports have long been classified as high-risk, prompting shipping companies to impose war-risk surcharges. These can reach about $500 per each 20-foot container and $1,000 per each 40-foot container, on top of regular shipping costs.

Al-Khulaqui said that the $3,000 fee now being demanded was “very high and unusual”, but was justified by shipping companies because they regard Yemeni ports as unsafe, despite their distance from Iran.

Although the Houthis are allied to Iran and previously attacked shipping in the Red Sea following Israel’s genocidal war on Gaza, the Yemeni group has yet to intervene in the US-Israel-Iran conflict. Other Yemeni parties are also not involved, making Yemen one of the few regional countries yet to see any violence related to the fighting.

In addition to barring local traders from paying the new charges, the Yemeni government is considering other measures to pressure shipping companies to cancel the fees, including threatening to stop vessels belonging to those companies from docking at Yemeni ports. Authorities may also allow traders to contact exporters directly in countries of origin to negotiate any additional charges.

The new surcharges come as the United Nations has again sounded the alarm over Yemen’s worsening humanitarian situation, saying nearly 65.4 percent of the population – about 23.1 million people – will require urgent humanitarian assistance and protection services this year. This marks an increase of roughly 3.5 million people compared with 2025.

“Yemen continues to face an escalating food security crisis entering 2026,” the World Food Program said in its February Yemen Food Security Update, released on March 5. “January data revealed that 63 percent of households nationwide are struggling to meet their minimum food needs, including 36 percent facing severe food deprivation.”

Bypassing Yemen’s ports

In addition to rising insurance fees on shipments to Yemen, the war in Iran and potential disruptions in the Strait of Hormuz could cut vital supply routes from regional hub ports such as Jebel Ali in the United Arab Emirates.

Mustafa Nasr, head of the Studies and Economic Media Center, told Al Jazeera that shipping companies may begin seeking alternative hub ports to deliver goods to Yemen, which could increase costs and cause delays.

“The closure of Jebel Ali port would force shipping lines to seek alternative ports that may be farther away and involve significantly higher transportation costs,” he said.

Nabil Abdullah Bin Aifan, manager of the government-run Maritime Affairs Authority in Hadramout province and a maritime researcher, said most goods arriving at Mukalla port – the province’s main seaport – are transported on wooden dhows from Dubai.

He said that if disruptions occur in the Strait of Hormuz, traders may turn to alternative regional hub ports such as Salalah in Oman or Jeddah in Saudi Arabia.

“Large ships come to Dubai to unload their containers, and traders then unload the goods from the containers and load them onto those primitive ships, which have no insurance,” Bin Aifan told Al Jazeera.

For now, wheat shipments from Ukraine and goods transported from China to Yemen may see price increases due to rising insurance costs, while products imported from Gulf countries could disappear from the market.

Shipping lines may also consider routing cargo through the Cape of Good Hope rather than the Gulf, Bin Aifan said.

“Even before the recent developments involving Iran, ports in our region were considered high risk. However, after the relative calm that followed the halt to Houthi attacks in the Red Sea, confidence gradually returned and ships began sailing back to the region. Now, the war has brought the problem back again,” he said.

All of this means that Yemenis, already struggling with poverty and hunger after years of war, will likely have to pay more for imported food and goods.

Abdullah al-Hadad, an English teacher from the city of Taiz with 40 years of experience in the profession, said that his monthly salary – less than $80 – is already not enough to cover his basic needs. Meat and fish have become luxuries for his family, and he still owes nearly one million Yemeni riyals (about $670) to a local grocery shop.

To make ends meet, he works additional jobs as a taxi driver and in a grocery store, while his children also work after school to help support the family and pay for medication for his 10-year-old son, who has autism.

“What I suffer from as a government employee is the extremely low salary, which does not even cover basic necessities such as bread, tea, salt and sugar,” al-Hadad told Al Jazeera.

“Other foods that are essential for a healthy diet, like meat or fish, have become a distant dream.”

Pointe-Noire and Brazzaville, Republic of Congo – In Pointe-Noire, the economic capital of the Republic of Congo, the aisles of the Grand Marche come alive in the early hours of the morning. Among the market stalls, street vendors, and shoppers pushing their way through the crowd, Romain Tchicaya is selling medicines on the sly.

As the price of basics – including pharmaceutical products – rises, and people turn to more affordable unregulated options, merchants like Tchicaya step in to fill the gap while trying to earn a living in a struggling economy.

However, the 37-year-old’s background is far from typical for a street vendor.

With a degree in management, he thought he would find a stable job after graduating from university. But like many young Congolese, he found himself facing a tight job market with few opportunities.

“We are told that the country is rich in oil. But I don’t see that wealth in my daily life,” he told Al Jazeera. “Look at Pointe-Noire, formerly nicknamed as Ponton la Belle [Beautiful Pointe-Noire]. Today, the city is unrecognisable.”

Around the Grand Marche, the main roads are potholed, and when it rains, the streets get flooded, making it almost impossible to drive.

Like Tchicaya, Brice Makaya, in his 40s, has never managed to find a stable job here despite having a degree in computer science.

With no stable employment, he is unable to rent a house and now lives outside the church where he prays.

“I am still underhoused at my age and have no prospects for the future,” he told Al Jazeera. “Without a job, I can’t plan ahead. I’m just trying to survive.”

For many young Congolese, daily life is a paradox: though they live in a resource-rich country – the third largest oil producer in sub-Saharan Africa and a producer of liquefied natural gas (LNG) – nearly half the population live below the poverty line.

This Sunday, Congo goes to the polls in which President Denis Sassou Nguesso, 82, is again seeking another term. For young voters, jobs and the economy are a big concern. But for the government, there appear to be limitations to what is possible.

During one of his speeches in the election campaign, Nguesso pointed out that the civil service could not absorb all job seekers, and urged young people to take charge of their own futures by encouraging self-employment.

Oil: ‘Fuel of the political system’

According to the World Bank, oil accounts for about 70 percent of Congo’s exports and nearly 40 percent of its gross domestic product (GDP).

But this wealth does not automatically translate into an improvement in living standards for most of the populace.

The World Bank estimates that more than 40 percent of Congolese people live below the poverty line, despite the country’s significant natural resources.

For economist Charles Kombo, this can be explained in large part by the very structure of the Congolese economy, which is dependent on oil revenues.

“Oil dependency plays a structuring role in many African economies. In what some call a ‘rentier state’, a large part of public resources comes from the exploitation of natural resources rather than taxation,” he explained.

In a rentier state, the country generates substantial revenue from “renting out” natural resources, such as oil, to foreign companies. In exchange for the exploitation rights granted on these resources, the state receives royalties, taxes, or a share of production.

In this type of system, Kombo explains, the management of revenues becomes central to political power.

“Control of this revenue often reinforces institutional centralisation,” he said, explaining that dependence is no longer solely economic, but becomes institutional and sometimes psychological, as it influences budgetary priorities, political strategies, and even perceptions of development.

He points out that when the economy relies heavily on extractive revenues, economic and political resources tend to become intertwined, which can limit electoral competitiveness.

“Oil revenues can generate significant income, but they do not guarantee the structural transformation of the economy,” he said.

This oil dependence also exposes the country to fluctuations in oil prices on international markets.

After the fall in crude oil prices in 2014, the Congolese economy experienced a severe crisis. Public debt exceeded 90 percent of GDP, before being restructured under agreements with the International Monetary Fund and several international creditors.

Although this has helped stabilise the macroeconomic situation, the country remains heavily indebted. According to the World Bank, public debt fell from 103.6 percent of GDP in 2020 to about 93.6 percent in 2024, reflecting a gradual improvement, but also the continued vulnerability of Congo’s economy to fluctuations in global oil prices.

For political analyst Alphonse Ndongo, oil revenues also influence political life in Congo.

“Oil has become the fuel of the political system. It is used to finance parties, co-opt elites, and maintain social balance,” he said.

According to him, “oil money comes easily and quickly”, but this financial windfall has long delayed necessary structural reforms such as economic diversification.

In his view, the steady flow of money from the oil sector can create a sense of complacency within the system, reducing the pressure to pursue deeper structural reforms. As a result, debates around economic diversification tend to emerge mainly during periods of financial stress, when falling oil prices expose the limits of the model. But when revenues rise again, he argues, the urgency to diversify often fades, leaving the economy heavily dependent on the same resource.

‘An uphill battle’

As the country’s oil wealth fails to filter to the majority of the population, young people are particularly affected and many face unemployment.

According to data from the World Bank and the International Labour Organization, the youth unemployment rate in Congo is among the highest in Central Africa, while the informal sector absorbs the majority of new entrants to the labour market.

During a news conference on March 4 in Brazzaville, Prime Minister Anatole Collinet Makosso, who is also spokesperson for presidential candidate and incumbent leader Nguesso, said that young people were at the heart of the government’s policy.

“Youth has always been at the centre of Denis Sassou Nguesso’s policies and social projects,” he said, citing investments in education and the construction of universities.

He also claimed that the unemployment rate had fallen from 44 percent to 39 percent in recent years.

But on the ground, many young people remain sceptical.

Landry, 23, a student in the capital Brazzaville who did not want to give his last name, says he has lost faith in political promises.

“Promises of jobs come back every election. It’s become a cycle,” he said.

A months-long strike at Marien Ngouabi University, the country’s main institution of higher education, forced him to interrupt his studies.

“I went back to my parents’ house to wait and see what I could do. Today, I’m seriously thinking about going abroad.”

Another student in Brazzaville, a 26-year-old woman who did not want to give her name, expressed similar frustration.

“The only sector that is really recruiting today is the army. But not everyone can become a soldier. Becoming a civil servant is also an uphill battle,” she said.

Even sectors that are supposed to be structured are not immune to precariousness. Regine, a young journalist who also did not want to provide her last name, said she works without a stable employment contract.

“In the media, many young people live off ‘camora’, one-off payments for services. It’s not a real salary.”

She also lamented the difficulties of everyday life, including infrastructure issues, such as power cuts and inconsistent water supplies, despite repeated government investment plans.

“In the 21st century, people rejoice when the electricity comes back on. And when the water finally flows, everyone rushes to fill buckets,” she said.

‘Social time bomb’

Congo’s infrastructure problems are a reminder to Regine and many others that economic difficulties go beyond the issue of employment.

At the same time, the consequences of the country’s youth employment crisis also reverberate more widely and into the social sphere.

Analyst Ndongo sees this as a potentially explosive situation.

“When there are large numbers of young people who are unemployed and have no prospects, it can become a social time bomb,” he said.

This dynamic is already visible in the tensions that emerge when unemployment and inequality intersect, Ndongo explained: As large numbers of young people struggle to find work while wealth linked to the oil sector remains visible, frustration can build among those excluded from economic opportunities.

He says pressure can be contained for a time, but without meaningful job opportunities and stronger education systems, resentment may deepen. Over time, he warns, groups of unemployed and poorly trained youth can become more vulnerable to crime or gang activity.

The Congolese population is very young: more than 60 percent of people are under 25, according to United Nations data. This demographic reality represents both economic potential and a major challenge for the authorities.

For economist Kombo, the issue goes far beyond just unemployment.

“Demographics are a major political factor in many African countries. When the population is predominantly young, expectations for employment and social mobility are particularly high.”

According to him, long-term political stability will depend on the ability to create economic opportunities.

“Development is not distributed,” he said, “it is built.”

Despite the frustrations, political mobilisation remains limited, even as several candidates rally to compete against Nguesso in this weekend’s vote.

Chris Taty, a young student in Brazzaville, says he is not interested in the current election, as it is clear that the president who has already been in power for more than 40 years will once again reign supreme.

“Everyone already knows who is going to win. So why bother voting? I’d rather stay at home and do other things,” he said.

“Sometimes we joke that Sassou [Nguesso] is our grandfather,” the young journalist Regine said. “He has been ruling for so long that many of us have never known another president”

Nguesso has been a dominant figure in Congolese politics for decades, first ruling the country from 1979 to 1992 before returning to power in 1997 following a brief period out of office. His long tenure has enabled him to consolidate influence over key state institutions. Meanwhile, analysts say the country’s opposition remains fragmented and lacks the organisational capacity to pose a strong challenge.

For some potential voters, the perception of a largely predictable outcome has contributed to a degree of political disengagement, which Ndogo says is a “feeling of resignation”.

“Resignation is ingrained in everyone … Students, politicians, intellectuals … everyone is forced to scramble for a piece of the pie,” he said.

“We are all lulled into resignation because we tell ourselves that if we stand up against the established order, against those in power, we risk ending up in prison or even six feet under. It’s risky to oppose the system today.”

This combination of economic frustrations and limited political participation is a main challenge facing Congo, observers say. And the issue of youth unemployment risks becoming a major crisis in the coming years if nothing is done to fix it.

For many educated yet underemployed young people in the oil-rich country, the question is whether or not Congo can transform its natural wealth into concrete opportunities for its people.

“We are not asking for much,” said Regine. “Just the chance to work, to live in our own country with dignity and to believe that our future can be built here, without connections, with equal opportunities for young people, and without conditions.”

Occupied East Jerusalem – Basema Dabash sheds tears daily for the home she and her husband, Raed, were forced to demolish in Sur Baher, in the south of occupied East Jerusalem.

For years, the couple lived under the spectre of losing their home, ever since the Israeli authorities issued a demolition order in 2014. In January of this year, the eviction notice came. And then, on February 12, the family were forced to demolish their home. If they didn’t, they would have been forced to pay the municipality to carry out the demolition.

“We were forced to start demolishing the house ourselves to avoid the municipality’s demolition fees, which can reach 100,000 shekels [$32,000],” Basema, 51, said. “We started by breaking down the inside of the house and sent the municipality photos to confirm that we had begun the demolition, but they demanded that we demolish it from the outside as soon as possible.”

The family soon completed the demolition of the two houses where eight people, including three children, lived. However, this didn’t waive the fine of 45,000 shekels ($14,600), which will continue to be paid in instalments until 2029.

‘Self-demolition’ haunts Palestinians living in East Jerusalem, which has been controlled by Israel since 1967, and illegally merged with West Jerusalem under one Israeli-run administration.

The choice between self-demolition and paying a further fee to the municipality is a simple one – the vast majority of Palestinians can’t afford to pay the exorbitant amount, and resort to demolishing their own homes, despite the immense pain and profound psychological impact it causes.

‘How did we come to this?’

Basema’s troubles started in 2014, when she received a building violation notice from the Israeli municipality in Jerusalem for the building she and her husband shared with their married son, Mohammed, and his family. They appealed at the time to an Israeli court in an attempt to freeze the demolition order.

For more than a decade, the family was forced to pay accumulated fines in an attempt to keep their home. Then, on January 28, they received an eviction notice, giving them a deadline to vacate the house and have it demolished.

The house slated for demolition was 45 square metres (485sq feet), an extension Basema had added to her existing 45-square-metre home. She had also built a similar-sized residence for her married son on top of the extension. The demolition order targeted both the extension and her son’s residence.

The Dabash family tried to obtain a building permit for the house several times, but their requests were rejected by Israel. Despite this, the municipality fines Palestinians and demolishes their homes under the pretext of lacking permits.

“We chose to demolish our own house not only to avoid the fine, but also because the municipal crews show no mercy to anything around the house and deliberately vandalise the entire area under the pretext of demolition, breaking trees and causing extensive damage that we could have done without,” Basema said.

Basema, along with her husband and one of her sons, Abdelaziz, now lives in what remains of their home. Mohammed has also moved in with them, while his wife and children live in her family’s home. The demolition has thus scattered her son’s family, who haven’t yet been able to find a small house to rent due to the high cost of housing.

The family also incurred significant expenses removing the rubble and redesigning the older section of the house to accommodate everyone, not to mention the psychological toll, which has been devastating.

“I stand to wash the dishes and find my tears falling on their own. How did we come to this? Why are we being subjected to this injustice? The house has become cramped and barely fits us. My grandchildren visit us and then cry bitterly when they leave for their grandfather’s house because we have no space,” Basema said sadly.

Increased demolitions

As illegal Israeli settlements continue to expand in East Jerusalem and the occupied West Bank, with building permits easily obtained, Palestinians say the double standards are obvious.

Human Rights Watch has found that Israeli authorities make it “virtually impossible for Palestinians to obtain building permits”, and the Israeli human rights organisation B’Tselem said planning policies in East Jerusalem make it “very difficult for residents to obtain building permits”.

Marouf al-Rifai, spokesperson for the Palestinian Authority’s Jerusalem Governorate, told Al Jazeera that 15 self-demolitions were carried out last February, five in January, and 104 in December.

Demolitions, in general, escalated to unprecedented levels after October 2023, when Israel’s genocidal war on Gaza began. Al-Rifai said that 400 demolitions were carried out in 2025 in East Jerusalem and its surrounding area, either by municipal crews or by homeowners themselves. Prior to that, the number of demolitions had reached a maximum of 180 per year.

The United Nations has reported that demolitions in 2025 displaced 1,500 Palestinians.

“Even the method of carrying out demolitions changed after the war on Gaza,” al-Rifai said. “Previously, demolitions were only carried out after exhausting all legal avenues and giving residents the opportunity to appeal to the courts and freeze the demolitions.”

But Israeli authorities have taken a more punitive position since demolition policy fell under the influence of far-right Israeli National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir, who began pushing for Israeli army bulldozers to carry out demolitions without even notifying the homeowners, al-Rifai said.

In addition, the Palestinian Authority official said, demolition notices for Palestinian homes in Jerusalem increased from 25,000 before the war to 35,000. The town of Silwan alone has received 7,000 demolition notices since 1967.

Fakhri Abu Diab, a member of the Committee for the Defence of al-Bustan Neighborhood in East Jerusalem, told Al Jazeera that self-demolition is a double punishment and pain for the homeowner after the effort and hardship involved in building the house.

“Israel’s goal is to break the morale of the Palestinians and to brainwash them into becoming tools for implementing its plans to demolish homes. When we demolish our own homes, it’s as if we are demolishing a part of our own body,” he explained.

Israel can only demolish a limited number of Palestinian homes annually due to logistical, financial, budgetary, and logistical constraints. Demolition by Palestinians multiplies the number of homes demolished, thus turning the victim into a “demolition contractor”, as he put it.

“I refused to demolish my house myself because of the negative consequences that I and my family would have to live with for the rest of our lives, and the Israeli bulldozers demolished it. If I had done it myself, it would have remained a nightmare that would haunt me.”

No alternative

But the cost of a demolition carried out by Israeli municipal crews ranges between 80,000 and 120,000 shekels ($26,000-$39,000).

Saqr Qunbur couldn’t pay that, and was forced instead, on December 26, to demolish his 100-square-metre (1,076sq-foot) house in Jabal al-Mukabber under the pretext of lacking a permit. He had built it in 2013 and was immediately issued a building violation notice.

Saqr told Al Jazeera that he had lived in the house with his wife and four-year-old child. Since building the house, he has received a total of 80,000 shekels ($26,000) in fines that he’s still paying despite his home being demolished.

Saqr had nowhere to live after being forced to demolish his house, so his neighbour gave him a dilapidated room to live in while he found a place to rent.

“My child has been suffering psychologically since we demolished the house. Every day he asks me why I demolished it, and I don’t know what to tell him. I say it’s so I can build him a better house, but deep down I know I won’t even be able to rent a suitable place,” he explained with anguish.

Saqr chose to demolish his house himself after he says an Israeli officer threatened him, saying, “Demolish it, or I’ll demolish it over your head”. He also wanted to avoid the humiliation that accompanies demolitions carried out by Israel, where police sometimes fire live ammunition and tear gas at family members and carry out assaults, as documented by human rights groups.

“I developed diabetes and high blood pressure after my house was demolished. The doctor said it was due to anger and grief. This is an occupation that wants to expel us from our land, and we want to stay,” he concluded.

“Well, I guess it’s a brother thing.”

The Black Crowes singer Chris Robinson is reflecting on his rollercoaster relationship with his younger sibling, guitarist Rich.

Their explosive chemistry once earned the outfit a fitting accolade — “The Most Rock ’n’ Roll Rock ’n’ Roll Band in the World”.

Chris is first to admit they’ve had their ups and downs since forming in 1984 under their original name, Mr Crowe’s Garden, as schoolkids in Atlanta, Georgia.

“Rich and I, for better or worse, were stubborn and arrogant but always strong believers in the art,” he admits.

“This has always been our path and, no matter what, we have to do it like this.

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“In rock ’n’ roll, there are plenty of show dogs, pure bred and beautiful. We’re f***ing feral.”

Following in the footsteps of other warring brothers — Ray and Dave Davies or Noel and Liam Gallagher — the Robinsons weren’t on speaking terms for five years after their so-called “contractual obligations” tour ended in 2014.

“Sometimes, you have to take your lumps,” continues Chris, employing that very American phrase for suffering setbacks. “But, right now, we’re in the zone. The chemistry is 100 per cent there.

“The way we feel goes right back to when we started — it’s f*** it, just play it — even if we are more well-mannered.”

The Black Crowes’ big reunion began in late 2019 with warm-up shows for a planned 30th anniversary tour of their debut album, the seminal Shake Your Money Maker, the following year.

But the pandemic slammed on the brakes before the dates finally happened across the US in 2021, uncorking the band’s celebrated freewheeling energy.

Back to the live arena came Jealous Again, Hard To Handle, She Talks To Angels and Twice As Hard, songs that somehow bottled up the band’s influences — Led Zeppelin, the Rolling Stones and Little Feat among them — but still refreshingly their own.

In 2024, with their creative juices flowing, The Black Crowes released their first album of original material in 15 years, Happiness Bastards.

Now the Robinsons are back again — with a bang.

The follow-up, A Pound Of Feathers, comes tearing out of the blocks with the rocket-fuelled, riff-driven Profane Prophecy, setting the tone for another of The Black Crowes’ “love letters to rock and roll”.

The album arrives with some sound advice — “This isn’t a record you play on Sunday morning, this is a f***ing Saturday night burner!”

In a world where smoothly produced pop dominates the airwaves, The Black Crowes are unashamedly sticking two fingers up at it.

“None of what’s going on in that world is relevant to me,” decides Chris, “and rock ’n’ roll is still huge for millions and millions of people.”

He is talking to me via video call from Aspen, Colorado, the premier ski resort in the States, playground of the rich and famous.

“My wife is an avid skier. She’s the Franz Klammer of the family,” he reports with a reference to the Austrian downhill legend.

“I get to do the cooking, the reading and the hanging out.” (And talking to people like me about The Black Crowes). Brother Rich is at home in Nashville and begins his call by apologising for being under the weather.

“I’m going to be coughing randomly,” he says. “I’m in the middle of flu that’s going around.”

After clearing his throat, Rich, the less flamboyant one who lets his guitar wizardry do most of his talking, gamely picks up on Chris’s theme.

“When we got back together, we both agreed we needed to do it properly,” he affirms.

“We knew that bringing back a toxic dynamic wouldn’t be healthy for anyone.

“We couldn’t have the overarching idea that when Chris and Rich get together, it’s a bad thing.

“We’ve always written all the songs, we own the name so coming back with a more mature approach has been very helpful.”

Rich acknowledges that the music landscape for the older, wiser Black Crowes is vastly different from when they started out. “There’s a bunch of people in the industry who like to think rock ’n’ roll is dead,” he says.

“But then there’s a bunch of people trying to keep it alive. Guns N’ Roses, the Rolling Stones, Metallica and Def Leppard are still selling out stadiums.

“Tens of millions of people still want to see bands like them. Rock ’n’ roll is one thing that no one could tame.

“And it’s still like that for us. We can go into a studio with almost nothing and, in a week, make a record.

“There’s a human, organic quality to rock ’n’ roll. We don’t have auto-tune and we don’t have to set our s**t to a grid.”

Looking back at their unfettered past, Chris exclaims: “I have to say I’m so f***ing proud of The Black Crowes, man!

“Rich and I started this band when we were teenagers in Mom and Dad’s house, as a vehicle to write songs.

“And we found our way to being musicians and performers.”

Yet the creation of A Pound Of Feathers has still blown Chris away, most notably because of the stellar contributions from Rich.

The album was made in double-quick time, carried along by the brothers’ spontaneous fusion of riffs and lyrics.

Chris says: “I’ve been on stage and sat in studios my whole life with my brother playing amazing guitar.

“But, with this album, I sat there with my mouth hanging open.

“Granted I’m very close to the flame but everything he did, I was like, ‘Wow, this guy’s taking it to a new place.’”

During the sessions, The Black Crowes were visited by Chris’s friend, Todd Snider, the singer/songwriter who died last November from pneumonia aged just 59.

Chris cherished the chance to hang out with Todd — and to get some memorable feedback from him.

“He was a storyteller, a real poet, and he and I had a great friendship. He also really liked The Black Crowes.

“He asked if he could come and check out the recording. I went, ‘Dude, yeah fine, but you’re going to be the only one here’. So he sat there taking in me and Rich putting music together.

“At the end of the day, he said, ‘Are you f***ing warlocks? Is this some kind of ESP or is it a parlour trick? You don’t say anything yet, 30 minutes later, there’s this massive song blasting out of the speakers’.”

For Rich, the studio is his happy place. “I’ve always loved being in a studio,” he says.

“It’s where you bring to ­fruition all the things you have in your head.

“With this record, we came in without any concrete ideas. By allowing ourselves just to play in the sandbox, it became fun and exciting.”

Rich gives a shoutout to producer Jay Joyce, who also helmed Happiness Bastards.

He says: “Nine and a half times out of ten, he agrees with us when we’re excited about something.

“He’s there with us, not bogging us down by trying to insert himself when its unnecessary.”

So what of the songs? There’s the aforementioned opener Profane Prophecy which captures the unvarnished sound of The Black Crowes’ live mayhem, yet recorded in the calmer confines of a studio.

You hear Chris nodding to past rock ’n’ roll excesses by hollering, tongue firmly in cheek, “My pedigree in debauchery is my claim to fame.”

He smiles, “Of course I have to embrace that life. That’s why I sing, ‘I eat casino breakfast off the kitchen floor’.”

But he maintains that while giving “a vision of a debauched rock ’n’ roller”, he’s also “confusing fact with fiction”.

The four-minute shindig concludes with the ensemble chant of the phrase that yielded the album title, “a pound of feathers or a pound of lead”.

Chris got the line from In Here The World Begins, a song by long-defunct British electro-pop band Broadcast.

“I loved the phrase and what it could mean because a pound is a pound,” he says. “It doesn’t matter whether it’s lead or feathers. There’s some weird wisdom to it.”

We turn our attention to Cruel Streak, pounding rock underpinned by funky rhythm.

“I’m adjacent to funk at all times,” says Chris. “Growing up in Atlanta, there was this multi­racial band called Mother’s Finest who played heavy funk with ‘Baby Jean’ Kennedy as lead singer.

“There’s a lot of Mother’s Finest in The Black Crowes.”

On the R&B-flavoured It’s Like That, which comes with heavy basslines and a hint of reggae, the brothers employed an amphibian guest, which, as Chris explains, fits with their anything goes attitude.

“I was staying in Nashville, and the doors were open. I heard this frog, so I recorded him. That’s my Nashville rasta frog on the solo.”

Rich says: “There are tree frogs all over the South. They were blaring one night and Chris said, ‘Man, I want to use that sound’.

“So he took his phone and pressed record. We found the right space for it on the song.” On the loose, laidback country-tinged Pharmacy Chronicles, recalling the vibe of the Rolling Stones’ Exile On Main St., Chris sings “let the demons find you” because, he insists, we mustn’t think everything is “sugar-coated, glossy and gorgeous”.

“Especially something as messy as a 40-year career in rock ’n’ roll,” he adds. “I can’t believe some of the s**t I was doing. Get some surgical gloves and get to it!”

But Chris is not one to dwell on the past, with all its euphoric highs and crashing lows. “I am devoid of nostalgia,” he says.

“I like to think I interact with the world as a poet. I’m always writing — it could be because I overheard a conversation at an airport check-in.

“I’m no Bruce Springsteen,” he confesses. “But I connect with the world through whatever inspires me.”

And, as he puts it, “a lot of the darkness that is the United States right now” informs A Pound Of Feathers.

It explains why final track Doomsday Doggerel with its line “a front row seat to the end of times” is in stark contrast to the closing song on Happiness Bastards.

“On that last record, Kindred Friend was a beautiful pastoral thing with harmonica, about me and Rich, the band and our audience,” says Chris.

“Doomsday Doggerel is much darker. We haven’t remembered lessons from our past and the f***ing racism means we’re operating at a very low frequency.

“I just hope that someone can play this record on a Saturday night, keep out the low frequency and get a better hum going.”

As Pharmacy Chronicles ebbs to a close, you hear a defiant chorus of “the good times never end”.

As far as Chris and Rich and the rest of The Black Crowes family are concerned, rock ’n’ roll is the perfect antidote to personal and universal turmoil.

“We’re loud, we can be sloppy but we are like an old cartoon of two people fighting on a train,” says Chris.

“The train goes round a bend, leaning all the way over a cliff, but then it comes back up. That’s us.”

THE BLACK CROWES

A Pound Of Feathers

★★★★☆

Brazzaville, Republic of Congo – On main roads and public squares across the Congolese capital, posters are up featuring the seven main candidates vying for president.

But at the Moukondo Market in Brazzaville’s fourth district – between lively discussions, people jostling for space and saleswomen trying to attract customers – many voters are less than enthusiastic about this weekend’s election.

Fortune, a 27-year-old unemployed university graduate who did not want to give his last name, said he does not expect much to come from the polls.

“When you see how money is spent during the campaign, you wonder if those in power really care about the living conditions of the population,” he said.

While Congo is the third largest oil producer in sub-Saharan Africa, about half the country’s population of about six million people live below the poverty line.

A few metres away, Gilbert, 44, shared similar sentiments. The civil servant explained that his salary is not enough to cover all his household expenses.

“I do odd jobs to supplement my income. At my age, believing that these elections will change our daily lives would be almost suicidal,” he said.

“I’ve known practically the same leader all my life,” Gilbert added. “Some call it stability. Others say that nothing changes.”

It’s a sentiment shared by many in the country: That after 40 years under a single leader, political continuity has become the norm.

President Denis Sassou Nguesso, 82, who is once again standing in the election, first came to power in Congo in 1979. After a period of political transition in the early 1990s, he returned to the presidency in 1997 after a civil war and has ruled the country without interruption ever since.

Two major constitutional revisions have marked his political trajectory. The 2002 constitution and the one adopted in 2015 notably changed certain eligibility requirements, allowing the head of state to continue to run for office.

For Nguesso’s supporters, this political longevity is primarily attributed to the stability the country has managed to maintain in a region often marked by conflict.

Congo’s neighbours include the conflict-racked Central African Republic; Gabon, which witnessed a coup in 2023; and the Democratic Republic of the Congo, where the government is facing armed groups, most notably M23.

In official discourse, peace and institutional continuity are regularly presented as the main achievements of the Nguesso government.

However, several foreign observers painted a more nuanced picture of the political situation. The pro-democracy organisation Freedom House classified Congo as a “not free” country while the Ibrahim Index of African Governance highlighted limited progress in democratic participation and political accountability.

‘Asymmetrical political competition’

In the last presidential election in 2021, the official results gave Nguesso more than 88 percent of the votes cast with a reported voter turnout of 67 percent.

Nguesso is widely expected to win again when the country goes to the polls on Sunday.

Some analysts said the president’s political longevity can be partly explained by the country’s political structure.

Charles Abel Kombo, a Congolese economist and public policy observer, described the political system as a hybrid model.

“The Congolese political system combines formally pluralistic institutions – elections, political parties, parliament – with a high degree of centralisation of executive power,” he explained. “Nguesso’s political longevity can be explained in part by the structure of the institutional apparatus and the predominant role of the executive branch in the management of the state.”

According to him, the continuity of power is also linked to perceptions of stability in a country marked by the conflicts of the 1990s.

“In this historical context, this continuity can be seen as a factor of stability. But it is also accompanied by asymmetrical political competition.” In other words, political change remains theoretically possible but politically difficult.

For the economist, however, the issue goes beyond political change alone.

“The central challenge remains the ability of political actors to propose a credible plan for economic transformation. Countries dependent on natural resources need a strategic state capable of diversifying the economy and guiding productive transformation.”

Other observers took a more critical view of this political longevity.

For economic and political analyst Alphonse Ndongo, the stability often touted by the authorities must be examined with caution.

“There is indeed a stabilising regime because it has succeeded in maintaining peace. This is what is being sold today as the main recipe for success: There is no war, so the country is at peace. But this peace also allows those in power to remain there. We are in a kind of democratic illusion where elections often resemble a deal,” he said.

According to him, the current political architecture makes a change in leadership unlikely in the short term.

“It is difficult for the institutions responsible for managing elections to produce a result that differs from what everyone already expects. Everything is structured, from voter registration to the organisation of the ballot. Under these conditions, a surprising result seems unlikely,” he said.

‘Political alternatives exist’

As the debate continues in Congolese society over whether the country’s political continuity is a mark of stability or a system that is hard to change, the opposition appears fragmented and weakened.

Some established parties are boycotting the vote while some prominent potential ⁠candidates are in prison or exile.

In June, the party of opposition leader Clement Mierassa was removed from the official list of recognised political parties.

For him, the conditions for a truly democratic election are not in place.

“We have always called for essential reforms: a truly independent national electoral commission, reliable voter rolls and a law regulating campaign spending,” he said. “Without these guarantees, it is difficult to talk about free and transparent elections.”

Other political actors, however, have chosen to run in the election.

Christ Antoine Wallembaud, spokesperson for candidate Destin Melaine Gavet, said participation remains a way of defending the political space.

“The electoral system has flaws, but that does not mean that those who participate in it condone fraud. Participating also serves as a reminder of the need for reform and shows that a political alternative exists.”

For many observers, access to the media is also a key issue during election campaigns.

“Access to public media remains a recurring problem for opposition candidates. The ruling party candidate always gets the lion’s share even though the High Council for Freedom of Communication has established a list of appearances on state media so that all candidates can present their programmes,” said a Congolese journalist who requested anonymity.

Faced with these difficulties, opposition candidates often turn to private media outlets to spread their messages.

Congolese authorities, for their part, insisted that civil liberties are fully guaranteed for all.

The prime minister and spokesperson for Nguesso, Anatole Collinet Makosso, recently said freedom of opinion and expression “is doing very well”.

“Freedom of expression is alive and well in Congo. The proof is the multitude of foreign journalists here to cover this election. No journalist has been arrested because of their work or prosecuted,” he said.

For the government, this international media presence is evidence of the transparency of the electoral process and the ability of the media to work freely in the country.

However, some press freedom organisations paint a different picture. In its World Press Freedom Index, Reporters Without Borders regularly highlights the difficulties faced by local journalists, particularly in terms of access to public information, political pressure and economic constraints.

Adapting to circumstances

In the working-class neighbourhoods of Brazzaville, reactions to Sunday’s election range from resignation to pragmatism.

In Bacongo, a young man on the street explained that he has learned to adapt to circumstances.

“When the country goes left, we go left. When it goes right, we go right. Doing the opposite can be dangerous,” he said while refusing to give his name.

Beyond the political debate, economic concerns remain central.

The Congolese economy is heavily dependent on oil, which accounts for about 70 percent of its exports and nearly 40 percent of its gross domestic product (GDP), according to the World Bank. This dependence exposes the country to fluctuations in international energy prices.

Public debt has also reached high levels in recent years, exceeding 90 percent of the GDP before being partially restructured under agreements with international creditors.

In this context, several economists said the electoral stakes go beyond the single issue of political change.

Diversifying the economy, creating jobs for a predominantly young population and improving public services are major challenges in the years ahead.

But many Congolese aren’t hopeful that Sunday’s election will make a difference to their material reality because political and economic power will likely remain in the same hands.

“We all understand the system in this country,” Fortune said. “The [economic] crisis doesn’t affect everyone, nor does poverty.”

Israeli strikes on fuel depots and petroleum logistic sites in Tehran on Sunday saw apocalyptic images coming out of the Iranian capital, as the spilled oil ignited a river of fire, and thick black smoke blanketed the city of 10 million, leaving streets and vehicles covered with soot.

Israel and the United States claimed they were targeting Iranian military and government sites, but government officials and people say civilian structures such as schools, hospitals and major landmarks are increasingly coming under attack. At least 1,255 people have been killed in the strikes since February 28.

What Israeli and US military planners frame as a calculated degradation of state infrastructure is being described by local officials and environmental experts as an act of total warfare, and collective punishment.

Shina Ansari, head of Iran’s Department of Environment, described the systematic destruction of the oil depots as a blatant act of ecocide.

The attacks systematically targeted four major storage facilities and a distribution centre, including the Tehran refinery in the south and depots in Aghdasieh, Shahran, and Karaj. In the Shahran district, witnesses reported unrefined oil leaking directly into the streets as temperatures hovered around 13C (55F).

Ansari from Iran’s Department of Environment stated that the environment remains the silent victim of the war, noting that the incineration of vast fuel reserves has trapped the capital under a suffocating shroud of pollutants.

The medical and environmental fallout is immediate and severe. The Iranian Red Crescent Society warned that the smoke contains high concentrations of toxic hydrocarbons, sulphur, and nitrogen oxides. The organisation noted that any rainfall passing through these plumes becomes highly acidic, posing risks of skin burns and severe lung damage upon contact or inhalation.

Ali Jafarian, Iran’s deputy health minister, told Al Jazeera that this acid rain is already contaminating the soil and water supply. Jafarian added that the toxic air poses a life-threatening risk to the elderly, children, and those with pre-existing respiratory conditions, prompting authorities to advise residents to remain indoors.

The destruction has also forced the Iranian Ministry of Petroleum to slash daily fuel rations for civilians from 30 litres [8 gallons] to 20 litres [5 gallons]. At least four employees, including two tanker drivers, were killed in the depot strikes.

The strategic bombing myth

Major General Mamoun Abu Nowar, a retired Jordanian military analyst, told Al Jazeera that the primary objective of the strikes is to break the resilience of the Iranian people and paralyse the country’s logistics and economy.

“They are preparing the Iranian environment for an uprising against the regime,” Abu Nowar said, adding that the broader goal is to halt state operations and curb Tehran’s regional influence.

However, Abu Nowar raised urgent concerns about the specific munitions deployed, urging Iranian authorities to investigate the bomb fragments given the unusual density of the smoke and the resulting acid rain.

Some military strategists argue that striking an adversary’s vital infrastructure can paralyse the state from the inside out, bypassing the need to fight its military forces directly.

Modern warfare has increasingly relied on this strategic bombing via precision drones and missiles to destroy morale and incapacitate an adversary’s ability to wage war. For Israel, which is engaged in a genocidal war in Gaza and wider regional conflicts, targeting oil depots is viewed as a way to send a coercive message while avoiding a ground war.

However, Adel Shadid, a researcher in Israeli affairs, told Al Jazeera Arabic that the strategy is designed to make life hell for ordinary Iranians in hopes of sparking an uprising. Shadid noted a glaring contradiction in the rhetoric of Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, who claims to support the Iranian people while overseeing the destruction of their basic means of survival.

Raphael S Cohen, director of the Strategy and Doctrine Program at the RAND Corporation, notes that such bombing campaigns consistently fail to achieve their primary goal of breaking a population’s will. Instead, Cohen argues, strategic bombing typically produces a rally-around-the-flag effect, unifying societies against a common foe rather than causing them to capitulate.

Historical echoes and retaliation

The reality of targeting oil infrastructure rarely aligns with sterile military theory, as history shows that such tactics reliably produce devastating, long-term environmental consequences.

During the 1991 Gulf War, the torching of Kuwaiti oil wells created a regional environmental catastrophe. Similarly, during the battle against ISIL (ISIS) in Iraq, the burning of the Qayyarah oil fields created a “Daesh Winter” that blocked out the sun for months.

The fires released vast quantities of toxic residues, including sulphur dioxide and polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons, causing severe respiratory illnesses, soil acidification, and long-term carcinogenic risks for the local population.

Meanwhile, Mokhtar Haddad, director of the Al-Wefaq newspaper, told Al Jazeera Arabic that the targeting of energy hubs could trigger a global energy war.

According to Al Jazeera’s Sohaib al-Assa, reporting from Tehran, the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) has already retaliated by striking the Haifa oil refinery and targeting a US base in Kuwait, signalling that the conflict is no longer confined to military targets.

On Monday, Bahrain’s state-run oil company Bapco declared force majeure after waves of Iranian strikes targeted its energy installations. Iran has also been accused of also targeting energy facilities in other Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) countries.

Tehran, Iran – Senior religious leaders have signalled that Iran’s government may soon announce a new leader as hardliners and sidelined reformists deliberate their futures amid the quickly escalating United States-Israeli war on Iran.

Mohammad Mehdi Mirbagheri – a top figure in the 88-member Assembly of Experts, which will appoint the new supreme leader after Ayatollah Ali Khamenei was killed in Tehran on February 28 – said the choice had to be made with care so it would be indisputable internally.

“An almost decisive opinion has been reached. A significant majority has been formed, but at the same time, some obstacles have to be removed, which we hope will happen soon,” the head of the Qom Academy of Islamic Sciences said in a video released on Sunday by the Fars news agency, which is affiliated with the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC).

The top ultraconservative Muslim leader representing the holy Shia city of Mashhad in the Assembly of Experts, Ahmad Alamolhoda, said on Sunday that the leader has been chosen and the secretariat of the Assembly of Experts must soon announce the result.

Abbas Kaabi, a senior member of the Guardian Council, said on Friday that the powerful 12-member constitutional body was not given any names to consider for the next supreme leader by Khamenei during his lifetime, only attributes.

“He said: Among all attributes, the financial piety of the supreme leader is of primary importance because, given the important powers and responsibilities of leadership, if financial deviation occurs, it will spread to all other matters,” Kaabi was quoted as saying by the IRGC-affiliated Mehr news agency.

The religious leader also quoted Khamenei as pointing to “a rooted belief in the fundamentals of the [1979] Islamic revolution, having insight and knowledge of enemies and sedition, and especially being anti-arrogance and having faith and resistance in confronting America and the Zionist regime” as being among other top attributes for a future leader.

Mojtaba Khamenei, the second son of the late supreme leader, is believed to be a frontrunner for the position as he enjoys wide backing from powerful commanders in the IRGC who have been launching missiles and drones across the region over the past week.

US President Donald Trump, who has said he wants to play a role in determining the future leadership of Iran, has objected to the younger Khamenei’s ascension.

The Israeli army has said it will try to assassinate Iran’s remaining leaders and has bombed their offices and gathering spots in Tehran, Qom and other cities. Israel and the US have repeatedly expressed their interest in changing the government of Iran.

Israeli media reported on Saturday that Asghar Hejazi, a senior religious leader who was Khamenei’s acting chief of staff, was killed in a series of overnight air strikes targeting an underground compound in downtown Tehran used by the supreme leader and other officials. Iran has not commented.

Reformists weigh in as Pezeshkian creates row

President Masoud Pezeshkian came under fire after he released a video from an undisclosed location on Saturday and apologised to regional neighbours who have been fighting off Iranian missiles and drones.

The armed forces leading the military attacks, including the Khatam al-Anbiya Headquarters of the IRGC and interim leadership council member and chief justice of the Supreme Court, Gholam-Hossein Mohseni-Ejei, quickly released statements to emphasise that the strikes would continue, with Iran as well as the US and Israel, saying they are ready for months of war if necessary.

The row prompted more hardliners, including religious leaders, lawmakers and IRGC-affiliated media, to call on the Assembly of Experts to move quickly to announce the next supreme leader. Ayatollah Hossein Nouri-Hamedani said the process should be expedited to “disappoint the enemy and preserve the unity and solidarity of the nation”.

The disagreement has broken out after reformist factions within the establishment have been pushed aside by hardliners in recent years while the conservatives also have lost favour among an increasingly disillusioned public.

Mohammad Khatami, a reformist religious leader who was president from 1997 to 2005, released a statement to mourn Khamenei last week but also signalled that he sees a future for a reformed Islamic Republic.

The establishment is in need of “reforming approaches and practices objected to by the people”, he said without naming any examples.

“Our path is the path of freedom, independence, people-centrism and fair living, and that is a difficult path to tread and requires wisdom and tolerance,” he said.

Khatami and the Reformist Front of Iran also released general calls for reform after thousands of people were killed during nationwide protests in January.

The Iranian government said “terrorists” backed by the US and Israel were responsible for the killings, but the United Nations and international humanitarian organisations blamed state forces for a lethal crackdown against peaceful protesters.

The leaders of the Reformist Front were arrested or summoned by Iranian intelligence and judicial authorities last month for what the establishment called an attempt to “disrupt the country’s political and social order” and working “for the benefit” of Israel and the US during the antigovernment protests.

Most have since been released on bail, but some remain incarcerated as do many of the tens of thousands of people believed to have been arrested during and in the aftermath of the protests.

Hassan Rouhani, the moderate religious leader who was president from 2013 to 2021 and who rejected being part of a reported power grab last month, has remained publicly silent during the deliberations over the next supreme leader.

Former President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, another influential figure, survived an assassination attempt last week, according to Iranian media.

Fuel reserves and oil refineries in Tehran were bombed by the Israeli military overnight into Sunday, leaving thick plumes of smoke enveloping the sprawling city of 10 million people during the day as oil residue fell as part of a heavy rain.