modern

It was on August 8 that Priyanka Gandhi went quite out of her way, calling Israel’s war in Gaza genocide and using international human rights parlance. It was an exercise of raw political courage in Indian politics, when politicians avoid criticizing Tel Aviv out of fear of antagonizing Israel in case, they risk losing the favour of an increasingly strategic partner of New Delhi and Tel Aviv. But the reply was not that of the Indian government but Indian ambassador to Israel Reuven Azar, denouncing her remark as the work of “shameful deception.” His action was a first ever public rebuke of an Indian politician, a flagrant disregard for diplomatic propriety.

This raw intervention by a visiting envoy revealed an uncomfortable reality, India’s political leadership under Narendra Modi. This is increasingly coming to accept the presence of outside players inserting themselves into domestic political debates. By not condemning or even admonishing the outburst by the envoy, the Modi government left room for an embarrassment.

Diplomats are generally expected to practice restraint, especially in nations where political sensitivities are high. Azar’s statement, however, crossed the line into India’s internal affairs, raising questions about whether New Delhi is sacrificing its sovereignty at the altar of strategic partnerships.

The muted response from the government revealed how India-Israel relations have evolved. Once cautious and balanced, New Delhi’s position on the Israel Palestine conflict has undergone a sharp realignment. The Modi government has grown more transactional in its international relations placing more value on arms sales, intelligence sharing, and corporate alliances than on historical conceptions of non-alignment or subaltern solidarity. This realignment of the mind, long articulated as Hindu nationalism as a form of Zionism, has played itself out domestically as well, particularly in Kashmir, where settler-style governance becomes more apparent. Moreover, opposition parties like Congress and Shiv Sena criticized the ambassador’s comments, saying that the government of India could not safeguard its dignity. But the silence of the government was deafening.

It was a syndrome where foreign policy is less about India’s independent voice than using strategic bargains with powerful allies. This was witnessed again when New Delhi abstained from joining the Shanghai Cooperation Organization in condemning Israeli bombings of Iran, upholding selective usage of values. In putting transactional advantage over regional interests and human rights, India is compromising its credibility.

This compromising of credibility is not hypothetical just in foreign affairs. In the household as well, the Modi government’s autocratic instincts muzzling opponents, bullying critics, and taking minorities off at arm’s length have fashioned a climate where even visiting envoys find themselves empowered to speak truth to power. Reuven Azar’s diatribe thus not only defied diplomatic etiquette but also addressed the frailties of an India so widely seen as rolling over for it on the world stage. If a nation permits its local discourse to be shaped by foreigners free of cost, the distinction between sovereignty and dependence gets erased. The larger problem is that India is willing to offer up national pride as a sacrifice at the altar of materialistic gain. In making defence and economic arrangements, the government has forgotten the symbolic value of diplomatic ego. The scandal related to the Israeli envoy is a betrayal of how India’s rulers, present themselves as world brokers, but simultaneously have let others trample over Indian politics. Laxity in diplomatic lines can be perilous as it opens the door for future intrusions, watering down India’s global brand as also its democratic self. Last but not least, the dressing down Priyanka Gandhi received was more than a personal rebuke. It was an indication of India’s growing dependence on strategic alliances and its failure to protect its sovereignty. To protect both its democratic legacy and diplomatic mantra, New Delhi must reassert limits, impose diplomatic standards, and prioritize principles over deals. Otherwise, these incidents will continue to leave India open to accusations of not being an emerging power but rather a vulnerable one susceptible to foreign interference in its internal affairs.

Cooperation among leading non-Western countries is increasing. Russia and India will increase the scale of economic cooperation, including in the energy sector. This news has become especially relevant and important in light of recent geopolitical events. It reflects important trends in world politics.

Days before, the United States of America sharply criticized Delhi. Washington said that India should not continue to buy oil from Russia. President Donald Trump sharply criticized the Indian leadership and introduced additional large duties on imported goods. At the same time, the Indian authorities do not intend to take any retaliatory measures in connection with the increase in the size of duties on goods supplied to the United States from India. Earlier, a 25% duty on goods from India, introduced by US President Donald Trump in response to Russian oil purchases, came into force. Thus, goods from India are now subject to a duty of 50%, if we consider the previously introduced tariffs of 25% as part of the US administration’s revision of trade agreements with countries around the world. Tariffs on goods will affect more than half of India’s $87 billion exports. According to Reuters experts, the increase in tariffs by America will lead to a drop in Indian GDP growth by 0.8%. This will be a significant blow to the growing Indian economy and corporations that are actively exporting to the United States.

The cooling of US-Indian relations did not end there. The world press noted that President Donald Trump tried to talk to Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi on the phone four times in recent weeks, but he refused to talk. This was reported by the German newspaper Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, citing sources. In addition, there has been a certain tilt of the Trumpist American administration towards Pakistan, Delhi’s strategic and sworn enemy. The day before, President Trump said that the United States had made a deal with Pakistan on joint oil production. “We just agreed with Pakistan, according to which Pakistan and the United States will work together to develop their vast oil reserves. We are currently selecting an oil company to lead this partnership,” he wrote on his social media. The American leader suggested that Washington would one day sell oil to India. Let me remind you that Trump announced a sharp increase in tariffs on supplies from 185 countries in early April 2025.

In short, there is a serious cooling between the United States and India, which has the potential to significantly reduce the level of trust and contacts between the two countries. This circumstance is interesting from two sides. Firstly, India, located in South Asia, is of great strategic importance for Washington. In view of the global geopolitical and economic confrontation with powerful China, the United States attached great importance to the role of India. Delhi has quite tense relations and territorial disputes with Beijing. The acute phase of the conflict occurred in 2020. In America’s strategy, India must contain the growing power of China. However, Prime Minister Modi’s policy, which is aimed at protecting India’s sovereign interests, turned out to be more complex and multifactorial.

It was then that Indian and Chinese border guards clashed in the disputed Himalayan region, which both sides claim. The conflict had a fairly wide resonance in both countries. After that, both India and China began to increase their military presence in the region, stopped air traffic, and boycotted some goods. However, in 2025, significant changes occurred that began to bring the leaders of the non-Western world closer together. The parties resumed direct flights, agreed to simplify the visa regime, and also returned to border trade. “China and India should be partners, not enemies,” admitted Chinese Foreign Minister Wang Yi. Amid the discord with Washington, Prime Minister Modi visited Beijing for the first time in seven years and met with the Chinese leader. And on August 31, a trilateral meeting of the leaders of Russia, China, and India took place.

Secondly, the demonstration of India’s sovereignty became an important signal of the new international system that is just being built, where the United States is no longer the absolute hegemon. The “new countries” of Asia and the East are striving to pursue sovereign and more independent foreign policies. Patriotism, respect for their history, and their nation are growing stronger in these societies. And the political elites are striving to achieve a more respectful attitude towards themselves from the “golden billion.” At the same time, the West has ceased to be an indispensable part of the world economy and politics. Cooperation in trade and finance between the countries of Asia, the East, and Eurasia is strengthening. The economies of Russia, China, and India, enormous and colossal in their resources and potential, can well deepen cooperation with each other and achieve high economic results without deep cooperation with the countries of Europe and the United States. In a word, cooperation among leaders of the BRICS and the SCO is becoming stronger and more active. And this, in its potential, is capable of introducing significant transformations into the international system that is only just forming.

The SCO summit in Tianjin, China, was an important event. This forum with the participation of more than twenty world leaders showed that the world is not only larger than the West. This summit showed that the Non-West countries have the political will and desire to deepen cooperation in order to demonstrate their ambitions and sovereignty to the West. But it is not the number of leaders who took part in the forum that was important. The situation and atmosphere of the summit were important. The leaders of powerful and actively developing Russia, China, and India openly demonstrated colossal political will to change the global balance of power. But it is not only the will of the leaders that leads to global and very profound changes, but also objective factors that are almost impossible to reverse today. The economic, military, and technological power of Russia, India, and China is fascinating.

The fall of unipolarity is accomplished. The world is no longer unipolar. There is reason to believe that it will most likely never be so. Unipolarity is, in essence, a bright and short divergence. It became possible due to the loss of will, self-confidence, and potential of the Soviets. The Soviet Union itself, having laid hands on itself, led to unipolarity. In fact, it was not a victory of the United States in the literal sense of the word. Yes, the Soviets in the last period of their existence turned out to be uncompetitive, but they themselves disintegrated. But over the past quarter century, much has changed in the world. The growth of the West turned out to be much faster and more ambitious than many assumed. In the liberal capitals, it was believed that the development of Asia and the East would lead to rapprochement, democratization, and Westernization of the non-Western world. In reality, it turned out that this is not quite so, and in some cases, it is radically different.

In short, developing countries outside the West are actively developing and deepening cooperation with each other. The world is becoming larger and more diverse.

The Prevention of Electronic Crimes Act 2016, also known as cybercrime law, was proposed by then Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif in a 20-point National Action Plan to combat terrorism and to regulate online speech. The Electronic Transactions Ordinance of 2007 and the Pakistan Telecommunication Act of 1996 were insufficient. About 50 amendments were introduced before imposing the law, but the core criticisms remained unaddressed. The bill had four versions, and the final version was passed in August 2016. Under this act, maximum authorities were given to FIA and PTA.

Sections of the act are as follows:

l  Section 20 that criminalizes online defamation

l  Section 21 that deals with personal data misuse

l  Section 37 grants power to PTA to block or remove online content.

PECA Act and Nawaz Sharif:

When the bill was brought in the National Assembly in August 2016, many opposition members from PTI, PPP, MQM, etc. were absent. The ruling party was PML-N, who had the simple majority, and the law was passed easily due to low attendance of opposition parties. The bill was reviewed by the Standing Committee of the National Assembly that was chaired by Captain Muhammad Safdar. Civil societies were also invited, but there was limited meaningful debate, and the law was passed under the guise of cyber threats.

The law was not successfully implemented, as according to section 29 of the PECA Act, the FIA failed to report. Senator Aitzaz Ahsan raised this issue in 2017: about two reports should have been presented before Parliament within one year, but not a single report was presented. Furthermore, the government’s ability to address the cybercrime cases worsened after the law was passed. The government in October 2016 announced the allocation of Rs. 2 billion for cybercrime police stations, but nothing came out of it.

The federal government ordered, particularly in May 2017, a crackdown on those who were involved in anti-state content, including Jibran Nasir, who received a summons from the FIA’s cybercrime sector, and Salar Kakar, a member of PTI’s social media team. Imran Khan criticized the ruling party for using law as a political tool to victimize PTI social media activists.

Turning of the table:

While PML-N was still in power, the table started to turn. A law introduced to suppress opponents turned on the PML-N. In 2017, Nawaz Sharif was disqualified by the Supreme Court. Adil Tanoli, a PML-N social media handler, was charged under sections 9, 10, and 20 of the PECA Act. Aniha Anam Chaudhry and Ambreen Maria Chaudhry, two PML-N female workers, wrote a letter to then Interior Minister Ahsan Iqbal that nearly 20 to 25 FIA workers entered their house and seized the laptops and mobile phones. Later, they were called by the FIA. In October 2017, Nawaz Sharif brought attention to the harassment of the party’s social media activists and called it an attack on freedom of speech.

PECA Act under Imran Khan:

The PECA Act was used extensively by Imran Khan as a political and media control tool. Within four years of his tenure, about 300,000 complaints were filed, but most were related to social media content, not hacking, fraud, or harassment. PTI introduced “Removal and Blocking of Unlawful Online Content” in 2020 to strengthen control over social media. Saleem Safi was removed when he highlighted the closure of the RTS system in the 2018 elections. Nusrat Javed was forced to leave her job for criticizing Imran Khan. Imran Khan sued Najam Sethi for 10 billion rupees. Absar Alam was targeted for questioning Asim Bajwa and his wealth. Hamid Mir was unable to return until Imran Khan was gone. Asad Ali Toor was forced out of Samaa TV for criticizing Imran Khan. Mohsin Baig, who was the former friend of Imran Khan, was arrested by FIA at the request of Murad Saeed, as Baig highlighted Murad’s performance as a minister. Ironically, in a seminar on media independence in Islamabad in July 2022, Imran Khan claimed that he was unaware of journalists’ disappearances and never issued orders against any journalist.

Many pages on Facebook and Twitter that were critical of the establishment, judiciary, or Imran Khan were restricted. This included a large number of opposition social media accounts that were put under strict monitoring of the FIA Cyber Crime Wing. Gul Bukhari, a human rights activist and one of the most prominent government critics, was abducted in 2018. She was asked to appear before court, and in case of her absence, she was threatened to be charged with the PECA Act, according to the statement in February 2020 by FIA.

PECA Ordinance Act 2022—an amendment that was not accepted:

In February, at the request of Imran Khan, President Arif Alvi issued a presidential ordinance to amend the PECA Act. Under Section 20, online defamation was extended to more institutions (military, judiciary), the offense was non-bailable, and the punishment was increased from three years to five years. Maryum Nawaz criticized this amendment by declaring that the laws used to silence the media and opposition will eventually be used against Imran Khan, a claim that has become a reality today. Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch condemned this provision of PTI. Under Imran Khan, Pakistan’s press freedom dropped from 139 to 157. However, Islamabad High Court Chief Justice Athar Minallah ruled the PECA Ordinance unconstitutional, unlawful, illegal, and a violation of freedom of speech, but this decision is still in a legal limbo even after three years because the judge has not issued detailed reasoning for this action.

PECA Amendment of 2025:

In May 2024, Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif drafted an amendment to establish the Digital Rights Protection Authority under the supervision of the Ministry of Information Technology. The latest amendment of 2025 was proposed on January 23 and was passed in 15 minutes. President Asif Ali Zardari signed the draft on January 29, and the government passed the law on February 8, constricting penalties for false information, including up to three years in jail and a fine payment of 2 million rupees. The establishment of SMPRA prompted criticism and outrage among media professionals. They condemned this amendment as a violation of free speech rights. Critics argue that this amendment requires journalists to mention their source, which is against journalism ethics. The new amendment included Section 26(A), which criminalizes the sharing of any content that may cause fear, panic, or disorder. Ironically, PTI challenged this amendment in Lahore High Court, forgetting that a similar amendment was proposed by it. Many media associations called it the blackest law. Sherry Rehman and Raza Rabbani of PPP also criticized this amendment.

Section 20 of the PECA Act:

Defamation laws are prone to misinterpretation in Pakistan, a reality almost all Parliament members of Pakistan know. The word “defamation” was excluded from Article 19 of the 1973 Constitution of Pakistan in 1975. Though section 499 of Pakistan’s Penal Code criminalized defamation, it at least included explanations and exemptions. In this backdrop, PECA introduced a new cyber defamation law, which includes intentionally or publicly sharing any information that poses a threat to the dignity of a person. Human Rights Watch also highlighted the ambiguity of section 20.

While the PECA Act is necessary to prevent defamation, its vague wording has prompted actions against journalists, opposition members, and activists. A flexible and accountability-based approach will ensure that genuine crimes are addressed.

It was no normal day in Kabul on the 20th of August 2025. The city, once ravaged by war and suspicion, welcomed an event that could redraw the region’s map, the sixth Pakistan-Afghanistan-China trilateral meeting. For decades, Afghanistan has been considered a theater of disorder, characterized by foreign interference, militancy, and sanctions.

 In this groundbreaking round, China’s Foreign Minister Wang Yi’s attendance sent a message far beyond the confines of the conference room: Beijing stands ready to bet on Afghanistan’s revival from a battleground to a bridge economy. The Kabul session was no rerun of tired diplomatic protocol.

It was Afghanistan joining the China-Pakistan Economic Corridor (CPEC) officially, something that drastically alters the nation’s future along with the region’s geopolitics. By including Afghanistan in this paradigm, Pakistan and China have given the Taliban regime a once-in-a-lifetime chance to come out of seclusion, accrue legitimacy, and tap the economic potential. For a nation strangled by sanctions and bothered by unemployment, CPEC has the promise of something more than roads and pipelines; it has the promise of employment, commerce, and the chance to be an indispensable linkage between Central and South Asia.

Pakistan’s diplomacy has been at the center of making this day possible. For Islamabad, the addition of Afghanistan isn’t so much an act of goodwill and cooperation but also a hard security calculus. By adding Kabul to CPEC, Pakistan is minimizing the leeway for external actors, mainly India, to use the territory of Afghanistan for destabilization. It is also solidifying its own geo-economics hub, framing itself as a bridge state in a position to offer stability as well as connectivity. Primarily, Pakistan has shifted the instability of Afghanistan from a burden to a collective responsibility, with China’s financial influence footing the bill.

China has thus come to Kabul in a dual role: to mediate and to manage risk. Beijing knows that until stability arrives in Afghanistan, the projects under the Belt and Road Initiative stand to be jeopardized. The risks are genuine. Terror entities such as the TTP, ISKP, Al-Qaeda, and ETIM pose direct threats to the lives of citizens in China, CPEC projects, and internal stability in Xinjiang.

Wang Yi’s visit signalled Beijing’s intent to secure its investment commitments in the form of security measures as ironclad as its pecuniary commitments. The formation of a joint counter-terror operations center, real-time sharing of Intel, and procedures in the event of border incidents mirror that this isn’t about cutting ribbons but tough, enforceable systems of cooperation.

The structured pipeline laid out in Kabul is equally ambitious. Within the first year, digitized customs, fast-track trade facilities, and joint border security posts will become operational. Within three years, upgraded highways, cargo railways, energy corridors, and fiber optic networks will knit Afghanistan into regional supply chains. Within five years, industrial zones and logistics hubs in Afghan cities will enable the country to export more than raw materials; it will begin to manufacture, employ, and sustain itself. For the first time in decades, Afghanistan is being offered a pathway toward sustainable economic participation rather than mere aid dependency.

This vision, however, hinges on a simple but formidable formula: security plus connectivity equals peace. Without security, no corridor will be safe. Without connectivity, no economy will flourish. The Kabul session recognized this by embedding measurable accountability, KPIs that range from reducing terrorism by 30 percent annually to ensuring Afghan citizens fill 40 percent of CPEC-linked jobs. These are not rhetorical targets; they are promises with timelines, offering Afghans tangible evidence that their sacrifices in peace will translate into bread and dignity.

Critics will argue that this is overly ambitious, that the Taliban cannot reform, and that external spoilers will derail the process. But history often turns on moments when risks are embraced as opportunities. The Kabul round was one such pivot point. It declared that Afghanistan’s future need not be a repetition of its past. Instead, with Pakistan’s guarantees, China’s investments, and Kabul’s participation, the region has chosen to gamble on cooperation over conflict.

Wang Yi’s presence in Kabul symbolized more than China’s financial clout. It was a message that Beijing sees Afghanistan not as a pariah but as a partner, not as a sinkhole of instability but as a potential bridge across Asia. For Pakistan, it was proof that responsible diplomacy pays dividends. For Afghanistan, it was a first step out of isolation. If the commitments made in Kabul are honored, this day will be remembered as the moment when a war-torn land began its journey toward becoming a regional connector. The stakes are high, the risks are real, but the opportunity is historic. Sometimes, the future is written not in battlefields but in conference halls, and Kabul may have just rewritten its fate.

“Long Story Short,” premiering Friday on Netflix, is the sweet, melancholy, satirical, silly, poignant, hopeful, sometimes slapstick cartoon tale of a middle-class Jewish family, told nonchronologically from the 1990s to the 2020s. For all its exaggerations — and unexaggerated portrayals of exaggerated behaviors — it is remarkably acute, and surprisingly moving, about relations between parents and children and brothers and sisters and about the passage of time and the lives time contains. The eight-episode season is bookended with funerals.

On a plane ride home, Avi Schwooper (Ben Feldman), his last name combining his parents’ Schwartz and Cooper, plays new girlfriend Jen (Angelique Cabral) a recording of Paul Simon’s “The Obvious Child,” in which a character goes from a baby to a married man in the space of a verse. “That’s time, right?” he says, setting a theme and a strategy. In the episodes that follow, we’ll see relationships begin and end; children born and grown, not necessarily in that order. Things change, things fall apart, things last.

Created by “BoJack Horseman” creator Raphael Bob-Waksberg — Avi is drawn to resemble him — and designed by Lisa Hanawalt (who inspired and designed the “BoJack” characters and created “Tuca & Bertie”), it has the look of a children’s book, bright, colorful and busy, aggressively two-dimensional, with wobbly bold lines and squiggly patterns. Deceptively sophisticated and wonderfully expressive, it is full of lifelike details, without being made to resemble life.

Avi’s parents are Naomi Schwartz (Lisa Edelstein), intense and serious, and Elliot Cooper (Paul Reiser), laid-back and humorous. Avi, who writes about music, will go on to marry Jen (blond, gentile); Hannah (Michaela Dietz) is their smart, socially isolated daughter. Avi’s sister Shira (Abbi Jacobson), the angry middle child, will start a family with Kendra (Nicole Byer), a Black woman who is Jewish by choice. Younger brother Yoshi (Max Greenfield) is a bit of a lost soul — “sometimes I just feel like the extra one,” he’ll say — diagnosed as an adolescent with ADD, dyslexia and executive function disorder. (“I never gave him enough attention,” Naomi says, rushing to claim the guilt. “Now he has a deficit.”)

Created by Raphael Bob-Waksberg and designed by Lisa Hanawalt, the series has the look of a children’s book, bright, colorful and busy, aggressively two-dimensional, with wobbly bold lines and squiggly patterns.

(Netflix)

Though each episode is a piece in the mosaic, each has its own story to tell: Yoshi selling mattresses that come in a tube; Avi mixed up with self-righteous parents as he campaigns to remove wolves from Hannah’s school (the wolves, by contrast, are drawn realistically); Kendra at work at a birthday arcade called BJ Barnacles; Yoshi on a nocturnal adventure in San Francisco — the show is set around the Bay Area — with a former friend of his sister, attempting to retrieve a lost bag; Shira attempting to make her mother’s knishes; an improvised shabbat in a desert motel. There are inside family jokes (“Is not a schnook,” Cousin Moishe) that will pay off after a while; a school holiday pageant (“Hanukkah, Ramadan, Kwanzaa too / We tolerate them all, but there’s nothing like Christmas,” runs a song in the background). Yoshi has a bar mitzvah; Naomi is honored for her charitable work. Occasional weird inventions are folded in: a “hambulance” delivering ham; food trucks selling potato ice cream and soup on a stick; something called Pacifier Shirt Syndrome, caused by rubbing a dropped pacifier on a short.

Although I suspect this subject is interesting only to (us) Jews, it took a long time for any sort of Jewish specificity to make it to the screen, especially given who built the movie business. (Assimilation was the name of the game for a people blamed for a scapegoated race.) Even now, it doesn’t happen all that much. You could sense it on “Seinfeld,” see it on “Curb Your Enthusiasm” a lot. There are the current Netflix rom-com “Nobody Wants This,” with Kristen Bell in a relationship with Adam Brody’s rabbi, and the recent Adam Sandler-produced “You Are So Not Invited to My Bat Mitzvah.” And there is the odd Holocaust drama.

But in this moment, with its confounding mix of classical antisemitism, fake anti-antisemitism brandished as a weapon against universities and what gets called antisemitism simply because it’s critical of Israel, it’s not a bad thing to get a relatively straightforward look at a contemporary American Jewish family. Together, the characters represent the spectrum of religious attitudes — from atheist to convert, selectively to very observant — but all are steeped in the culture.

Hannah, whose gentile mother makes her “not Jewish,” wonders if her wanting a bat mitzvah might be “cultural appropriation.”

“Look, if Adolf Hitler saw you, I don’t think he’d be doing the math on technically how halachically Jewish you are,” says her father. “He’d throw you in the oven with the rest of us. … If you’re Jewish enough for Hitler, you’re Jewish enough for me.”

That the show can be a little obscure from time to time — I had to look up “Moshiach” to get one joke — just deepens its world. But anyone who’s ever shared a family joke, or wanted to ask a question of someone no longer around to answer it, or compared notes with a sibling on a parent never fully understood will recognize themself here.

On July 9, United States President Donald Trump opened a three-day mini summit at the White House with the leaders of Gabon, Guinea-Bissau, Liberia, Mauritania, and Senegal – by subjecting his distinguished guests to a carefully staged public humiliation.

This was not the plan – or at least, not the part the public was meant to see.

A White House official claimed on July 3 that “President Trump believes that African countries offer incredible commercial opportunities which benefit both the American people and our African partners.”

Whether by coincidence or calculated design, the meeting took place on the same day the Trump administration escalated its trade war, slapping new tariffs on eight countries, including the North African nations of Libya and Algeria. It was a telling contrast: Even as Trump claimed to be “strengthening ties with Africa”, his administration was penalising African nations. The optics revealed the incoherence – or perhaps the honesty – of Trump’s Africa policy, where partnership is conditional and often indistinguishable from punishment.

Trump opened the summit with a four-minute speech in which he claimed the five invited leaders were representing the entire African continent. Never mind that their countries barely register in US-Africa trade figures; what mattered was the gold, oil, and minerals buried beneath their soil. He thanked “these great leaders… all from very vibrant places with very valuable land, great minerals, great oil deposits, and wonderful people”.

He then announced that the US was “shifting from AID to trade” because “this will be far more effective and sustainable and beneficial than anything else that we could be doing together.”

At that moment, the illusion of diplomacy collapsed, and the true nature of the meeting was revealed. Trump shifted from statesman to showman, no longer merely hosting but asserting control. The summit quickly descended into a cringe-inducing display, where Africa was presented not as a continent of sovereign nations but as a rich expanse of resources, fronted by compliant leaders performing for the cameras. This was not a dialogue but a display of domination: A stage-managed production in which Trump scripted the scene and African heads of state were cast in subordinate roles.

Trump was in his element, orchestrating the event like a puppet master, directing each African guest to play his part and respond favourably. He “invited” (in effect, instructed) them to make “a few comments to the media” in what became a choreographed show of deference.

President Mohamed Ould Ghazouani of Mauritania led the way, both physically and symbolically, by praising Trump’s “commitment” to Africa. The claim was as misleading as it was surreal, given Washington’s recent aid cuts, punitive tariffs, and tightened visa restrictions on African nations.

In one especially embarrassing moment, Ghazouani described Trump as the world’s top peacemaker – crediting him, among other things, with stopping “the war between Iran and Israel”. This praise came with no mention of the US’s continued military and diplomatic support for Israel’s war on Gaza, which the African Union has firmly condemned. The silence amounted to complicity, a calculated erasure of Palestinian suffering for the sake of American favour.

Perhaps mindful of the tariffs looming over his own country, Ghazouani, who served as AU Chair in 2024, slipped into the role of a willing supplicant. He all but invited Trump to exploit Mauritania’s rare minerals, praised him and declared him a peacemaker while ignoring the massacres of tens of thousands of innocents in Gaza made possible by the very weapons Trump provides.

This tone would define the entire sit-down. One by one, the African leaders offered Trump glowing praise and access to their countries’ natural resources – a disturbing reminder of how easily power can script compliance.

Senegal’s President Bassirou Diomaye Faye even asked Trump to build a golf course in his country. Trump declined, opting instead to compliment Faye’s youthful appearance. Gabon’s President Brice Clotaire Oligui Nguema talked of “win-win partnerships” with the US, but received only a lukewarm response.

What did capture Trump’s attention was the English fluency of Liberia’s President Joseph Boakai. Ignoring the content of Boakai’s remarks, Trump marvelled at his “beautiful” English and asked, “Where did you learn to speak so beautifully? Where were you educated? Where? In Liberia?”

That Trump seemed unaware English is Liberia’s official language, and has been since its founding in 1822 as a haven for freed American slaves, was perhaps less shocking than the colonial tone of his question. His astonishment that an African president could speak English well betrayed a deeply racist, imperial mindset.

It was not an isolated slip. At a White House peace ceremony on June 29 involving the DRC and Rwanda, Trump publicly commented on the appearance of Angolan journalist and White House correspondent Hariana Veras, telling her, “You are beautiful – and you are beautiful inside.”

Whether or not Veras is “beautiful” is entirely beside the point. Trump’s behaviour was inappropriate and unprofessional, reducing a respected journalist to her looks in the middle of a diplomatic milestone. The sexualisation of Black women – treating them as vessels of white male desire rather than intellectual equals – was central to both the transatlantic slave trade and European colonisation. Trump’s comment extended that legacy into the present.

Likewise, his surprise at Boakai’s English fits a long imperial pattern. Africans who “master” the coloniser’s language are often seen not as complex, multilingual intellectuals, but as subordinates who’ve absorbed the dominant culture. They are rewarded for proximity to whiteness, not for intellect or independence.

Trump’s remarks revealed his belief that articulate and visually appealing Africans are an anomaly, a novelty deserving momentary admiration. By reducing both Boakai and Veras to aesthetic curiosities, he erased their agency, dismissed their achievements, and gratified his colonial ego.

More than anything, Trump’s comments on Boakai reflected his deeper indifference to Africa. They stripped away any illusion that this summit was about genuine partnership.

Contrast this with the US-Africa Leaders Summit held by President Joe Biden in December 2022. That event welcomed more than 40 African heads of state, as well as the African Union, civil society, and private sector leaders. It prioritised peer-to-peer dialogue and the AU’s Agenda 2063 – a far cry from Trump’s choreographed spectacle.

How the Trump administration concluded that five men could represent the entire continent remains baffling, unless, of course, this wasn’t about representation at all, but control. Trump didn’t want engagement; he wanted performance. And sadly, his guests obliged.

In contrast to the tightly managed meeting Trump held with Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu on July 8, the lunch with African leaders resembled a chaotic, tone-deaf sideshow.

Faye was especially disappointing. He came to power on the back of an anti-imperialist platform, pledging to break with neocolonial politics and restore African dignity. Yet at the White House, he bent the knee to the most brazen imperialist of them all. Like the others, he failed to challenge Trump, to assert equality, or to defend the sovereignty he so publicly champions at home.

In a moment when African leaders had the chance to push back against a resurgent colonial mindset, they instead bowed – giving Trump space to revive a 16th-century fantasy of Western mastery.

For this, he offered a reward: He might not impose new tariffs on their countries, he said, “because they are friends of mine now”.

Trump, the “master”, triumphed.

All the Africans had to do was bow at his feet.

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.

A former ‘Modern Family’ child star has opened up to fans about her sexuality.

Aubrey Anderson-Emmons played Lily Tucker-Pritchett, the adopted daughter of a same-sex couple, on the 22-time Emmy-winning series. And on Sunday, she took to TikTok to announce that she is bisexual. In her post, the 18-year-old lip-syncs to audio of a scene from the hit ABC show.

“No, I’m not, I’m gay! I’m gay!” her character says, while her stepgrandmother, Sofia Vergara’s Gloria Delgado-Pritchett, tells her “You are Vietnamese.” Her father Mitchell Pritchett, played by Jesse Tyler Ferguson, responds, “You’re not gay, you’re just confused … Oh, my God, what is wrong with me?”

However, the reveal came in the layover text, in which Anderson-Emmons wrote, “People keep joking so much abt [sic] me being gay when I literally am (I’m bi).” The caption said, “happy pride month and to all a good night.”

Many fans rejoiced in the comments, with one claiming she was “the sassy princess raised by two queens,” referencing her parents in the show, Mitchell Pritchett and Cameron Tucker (Eric Stonestreet).

Another simply joked that she was “half gay, half Vietnamese,” based on the audio.

“Modern Family” has long been celebrated for its LGBTQ+ representation, with a specific highlight being the marriage between Mitch and Cam. Anderson-Emmons’ character joined the show in its third season.

During its 11-season run, the show earned nominations for outstanding comedy series at the GLAAD Media Awards for 10 consecutive years, winning in both 2011 and 2012.

Since the series ended in April 2020, Anderson-Emmons has pivoted toward a music career. She recently released a single, “Telephones and Traffic,” and teased another single, “Don’t Forget Me,” out on June 27.

The digital battleground has become an increasingly critical theatre for modern geopolitical conflicts, and the Taliban’s recent social media campaign targeting the United Arab Emirates (UAE) and Saudi Arabia (KSA) underscores this shift. Following the UAE’s warm reception of former U.S. President Donald Trump, a surge of hostile online activity emerged, orchestrated by Taliban-linked accounts under the General Directorate of Intelligence (GDI). This campaign, executed through human-operated parody profiles, blends religious rhetoric, violent threats, and geopolitical grievances to undermine Gulf states’ legitimacy while reinforcing the Taliban’s ideological stance. The sophistication of this operation reveals not just a localized grievance but a broader strategy of asymmetric warfare, leveraging digital tools to exert influence beyond Afghanistan’s borders.

Central to the Taliban’s messaging is the accusation that the UAE has “disgraced Islam and the Ummah” by engaging with Trump, a figure historically criticized in the Muslim world for policies such as the travel ban on several Muslim-majority nations and his administration’s unwavering support for Israel. By framing the UAE’s diplomatic overtures as a betrayal of Islamic solidarity, the Taliban seeks to galvanize conservative Muslim audiences, casting Gulf states as Western collaborators. This narrative is not new, extremist groups have long employed religious rhetoric to isolate moderate Muslim nations, but the Taliban’s institutionalized use of social media amplifies its reach and potency.

Beyond ideological condemnation, the campaign escalates into explicit threats, with multiple accounts referencing the “yellow keg”, a signature Taliban improvised explosive device (IED) used extensively against US forces during the 2001–2021 conflict. The deliberate invocation of this imagery serves a dual purpose: it signals the Taliban’s continued embrace of violent tactics while psychologically intimidating its targets. Such threats, even if symbolic, carry the risk of inspiring lone actors or affiliated militant cells to pursue physical attacks, particularly given the historical precedent of Taliban-linked violence extending beyond Afghanistan’s borders.

While the UAE remains the primary target, the campaign’s inclusion of Saudi Arabia suggests a broader ideological offensive against Gulf monarchies perceived as aligning too closely with Western powers. The use of Pashto and Dari, languages dominant in Afghanistan but also understood among diaspora and regional jihadist circles, ensures localized resonance while maintaining plausible deniability for the Taliban’s central leadership. This linguistic choice, combined with the recycling of accounts historically used to promote Taliban edicts, reinforces the campaign’s authenticity within its intended audience.

The campaign’s timing, thematic coherence, and operational signatures point to centralized coordination, likely emanating from the Taliban’s GDI. Unlike fragmented extremist online activity, this effort displays a clear command structure, mirroring the Taliban’s disciplined approach to information warfare. The reuse of accounts previously associated with official Taliban narratives further underscores institutional involvement, distinguishing it from grassroots anti-UAE sentiment. This digital offensive aligns with the Taliban’s long-standing reliance on psychological operations, extending their influence without direct military confrontation.

The ramifications of this campaign extend far beyond social media vitriol. First, it seeks to erode the UAE’s and KSA’s religious legitimacy, particularly among conservative Muslim populations and transnational jihadist groups still active in Afghanistan. By casting these nations as apostates, the Taliban aims to fracture intra-Islamic solidarity, potentially driving recruitment for anti-Gulf militancy.

Second, the campaign reaffirms the Taliban’s commitment to asymmetric warfare. Despite their formal control of Afghanistan, the group continues to employ hybrid tactics, blending insurgency, propaganda, and diplomacy, to challenge adversaries indirectly. The digital domain offers a low-cost, high-impact arena to sustain pressure without provoking immediate military retaliation.

Most alarmingly, the explicit references to past IED tactics suggest a latent threat of physical escalation. While the Taliban may not directly orchestrate attacks on Gulf soil, the rhetoric could incite sympathizers or affiliate groups, such as Al-Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula (AQAP), to act. The UAE and KSA, both vocal opponents of Islamist extremism, remain high-value targets for such elements.

To counter this evolving threat, a multi-faceted approach is essential:

• Gulf states should collaborate with international cybersecurity firms to identify and dismantle Taliban-linked networks, focusing on parody accounts and coordinated disinformation campaigns.
• Governments and religious institutions in the UAE and KSA must amplify moderate Islamic voices to delegitimize the Taliban’s extremist framing.
• Strengthening intelligence cooperation among Gulf nations and allies can pre-empt potential offline threats inspired by online incitement.
• Social media companies must enforce stricter verification processes to curb the proliferation of fake accounts disseminating violent propaganda.
• The international community should hold the Taliban accountable for digital incitement, linking sanctions relief to the cessation of hostile online campaigns.

“The internet is the first battlefield of the 21st century.” Wang Huning

The Taliban’s latest campaign exemplifies this reality, proving that in an interconnected world, ideological and physical conflicts are increasingly waged through pixels and propaganda. For the UAE and KSA, the challenge lies not only in defending their digital frontiers but in ensuring that online hostilities do not manifest in tangible violence. As the Taliban refines its hybrid warfare playbook, the global community must adapt, recognizing that the next threat may emerge not from a battlefield, but from a smartphone.

In the aftermath of the armed insurgency that erupted in Indian-occupied Jammu and Kashmir in 1989, the valley fell into what Basharat Peer called ‘Curfewed Night’—a’ prolonged nightmare. Three decades later, New Delhi revoked Article 370, apparently to spur investment and deepen integration in the valley. Yet, for Kashmiris, the nightmare has not ended. The recent attack in Pahalgam, which led to Operation Sindoor, serves as an unmuted episode in Kashmir’s nightmare.

Decades ago, Kashmiris inscribed ‘Q.K.’ (Quit Kashmir) on courtyard walls, and slogans like ‘Go India Go,’ ‘Al-Umar,’ and ‘Taeju’ echoed through the valley. During a 2008 visit to KASHMIR, Arundhati Roy recorded hearing chants such as ‘Dhoodh maango ge, kheer dein ge; Kashmir maango ge, cheer dein ge’ (Ask for milk, we’ll give you dessert; ask for Kashmir, we’ll tear you apart). Today, those slogans have faded. Headlines now highlight G20 meetings and post-2019 booms in tourism and investment. This raises a critical question: has the revocation of Article 370 erased half a century of resentment in just six years?

The Pahalgam attack challenges the narrative of Modi’s prosperous ‘Naya Kashmir.’ According to the managing editor of Kashmir Times, ‘normalcy has proved to be a mirage in Kashmir.’ After India’s 2019 clampdown silenced most headlines, KASHMIR faded away from the memory of the international community. But silence does not translate into peace. Within a month of the revocation of Article 370, more than 200 politicians, 100 community leaders, and many outspoken activists were imprisoned. There has been a systemic institutionalization of information control. Journalists and human rights defenders have been harassed, detained, and accused of ‘terrorism’ for reporting gross human rights violations in occupied Jammu and Kashmir. Kashmiris witness collective punishment. The human cost is profound: in 2022, a Kashmiri man lost his overseas job, faced financial hardship, and struggled with legal burdens because his brother, a journalist, was arrested for sharing a protest video on Twitter (now X).

Farah Bashir recounts in her memoir that every Kashmiri lives with PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder) or is described as being possessed by a djinn—a traditional way of expressing mental anguish. During crackdowns, soldiers storm homes, ransack belongings, and scatter staples like rice and flour across the floor. These crackdowns often lead to food shortages and, at times, starvation. Reigniting collective trauma, Indian security forces launched a sweeping crackdown following the Pahalgam attack across the valley. Kashmiri students in Jammu and across northern Indian states have faced a wave of violence, threats, and communal slurs. Around 1,500 Kashmiris have been placed under preventive detention. India’s response to the attack shows how the country continues to conflate security with collective punishment. For those born after 1990, fear and resistance have become normalized elements of daily life. Repression in Occupied Kashmir has migrated from open violence to more invisible, psychological forms of control. 

In 2021, the Russell Tribunal on Kashmir warned that the Valley had reached the brink of genocide, fueled by Hindutva-driven policies carried out with impunity. Yet, this reality remains largely invisible in both Indian and global media. The absence of independent reporting suggests that media bias is deeply entrenched, systematically sidelining accounts of state violence. It was only after the mass casualties of Indian tourists in the Pahalgam attack that global attention briefly redirected towards the situation in Occupied Kashmir, highlighting how the region’s persistent human rights crisis otherwise remains marginalized in international discourse.

Only a few Indian analysts have criticized their mainstream media for perpetuating the illusion of normalcy in the disputed territory, arguing that this portrayal masks the enduring reality of Jammu and Kashmir as a war zone. Thousands of Indian troops are omnipresent, and every Friday, Mirwaiz Umar Farooq is placed under house arrest to prevent him from leading prayers. 

Since 2019, normalcy in Kashmir has been manufactured through repression, control of the media, and projection of economic development. As long as dissent is crushed, histories erased, and trauma left unhealed, Occupied Kashmir will remain a conflict unresolved—silenced, perhaps, but far from settled.