Opinions

John L Esposito, a prominent scholar of religion and international affairs at Georgetown University, passed away on July 15, 2026, due to complications from heart surgery.

He was a towering intellectual who published more than 55 books, mainly with Oxford University Press, which have been translated into dozens of languages. He uniquely shaped the modern study of Islam and Muslim societies during the late 20th and early 21st century, particularly in the area of Islam-West relations during key moments of friction following the 1979 Iranian revolution and 9/11.

John was born into a working-class Italian-American family in Brooklyn, New York, in 1940. His worldview was shaped by his devout Catholic mother and his father’s commitment to social justice. He aspired to become a Catholic priest and, at a young age, joined the strict Capuchin Franciscan Order. John left the seminary before ordination and opted for graduate school instead. He earned a doctorate in religious studies at Temple University under the supervision of Ismail al-Faruqi, the late Palestinian-American scholar of religion.

John’s family and friends questioned his career choice because they feared for his employability. When he entered the job market in 1974, there was only one advertised position in Islamic studies. The study of religion, particularly Islam, was absent in many institutions of higher learning, and international relations programmes at universities ignored the role of religion in global affairs.

Telling stories was one of Professor Esposito’s many passions. Reflecting on his career, he frequently joked that he owed his livelihood to two famous “radical” Muslims, one Shia and the other Sunni: Ayatollah Khomeini and Osama bin Laden.

After the 1979 Islamic revolution in Iran, interest in the relationship between Islam and politics skyrocketed in the West. The same happened after 9/11. John’s expertise was suddenly in high demand. He responded by publishing several groundbreaking books on the relationship between Islam and politics, Islam’s normative ideals, Islam-West relations, and the diverse political and social structures of Muslim societies. He was frequently quoted in the media, and governments now sought his counsel.

This story about John’s career, however, has a steep downside.

The Western interest in Islam and Muslims emerged due to threats to United States national security. This meant the ability to understand this topic in a free, unbiased and independent way was absent for most Westerners. The enveloping context that shaped the policy and public debate on Islam and Muslims was themes of political revolution, mass violence and perceived threats to global order.

John’s educational efforts were always an uphill battle. Establishment academics dominated the intellectual, policy and media debates. Bernard Lewis wrote about the alleged “Roots of Muslim Rage” at modernity that purportedly explained turmoil in the Middle East. Around the same time, Samuel Huntington advanced a popular thesis on the “Clash of Civilizations”. These views had a wide following, in part because they reinforced pre-existing Western biases about Islam and Muslims. They were further enhanced by US and Israeli national security narratives about an alleged Islamic threat in the aftermath of the Cold War.

John was an early and courageous scholar who challenged Orientalist misrepresentations of Islam and Muslims in an era of deep polarisation. His scholarship created room for understanding in lieu of prejudice, and his intellectual insights allowed a younger generation of scholars to build on and expand upon his pioneering research.

Professor Esposito advanced a new understanding of religion by criticising the dominant social science theories about political development. He astutely drew attention to a “secular bias” that informed mainstream intellectual debates in the West on the relationship between religion and politics. These modernisation theories purported to be universally applicable based on the assumption that religion was a relic of the past that no longer mattered in the modern world. In truth, these claims were ideologically biased, based on a set of specifically Western experiences.

By contrast, John interpreted the politics of the Muslim world not from a Western normative framework but rather from the Muslim world’s own experience. In other words, not from the outside in, but rather from the bottom up, from the perspective of the masses, many of whom held onto a religious identity.  In doing so, he advanced a historically grounded and sociologically compelling analysis of religious politics in the Islamic world. Critiques of the legacy of colonialism, authoritarianism and US foreign policy were central to his intellectual work.

Professor Esposito’s work on political Islam was pioneering. He wrote about the social conditions and collective aspirations that rendered political Islam appealing to diverse constituencies across the Middle East and the broader Muslim world. While most mainstream Western scholars and liberal intellectuals focused on the Islamist desire to implement “Sharia”, Esposito focused on the core aspirations that animated political Islam: dignity, justice, self-determination, and opposition to external domination. These same aspirations made political Islam a resilient and enduring force.

In reflecting on John Esposito’s legacy, I’m reminded of an observation by Edmund Burke III. Commenting on the work of the late Marshall GS Hodgson, author of The Venture of Islam: Conscience and History of a World Civilization, Burke noted that Hodgson, like Esposito, refused to view Islam as the “other”. Instead, he understood the Islamic tradition as “a venture alongside others that marked human efforts to bring about a just and moral world”.

We are unlikely to see a scholar in our lifetime again who can match John Esposito’s moral and intellectual caliber. His impact on our collective education and understanding of Islam-West relations is unique and immeasurable. Those who care about universal values rooted in international law, human rights, democracy, and cross-cultural understanding are deeply in his debt.

John Esposito is survived by his wife of 61 years, Jean Esposito, his partner and primary supporter in all his endeavours, and the enduring love of John’s life.

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

Ali al-Zaidi met US President Donald Trump in the Oval Office on Tuesday as Iraq’s prime minister. He carried the title. The power was another matter.

Eleven weeks earlier, after months of paralysis, the Shia alliance which is known as the Coordination Framework had taken just 25 minutes to choose him. That sudden consensus was forged under intense pressure from Washington DC.

The United States Treasury had frozen Iraq’s dollar lifeline, the cash shipments that fly from New Jersey to the Central Bank of Iraq. Nouri al-Maliki, a former prime minister, and the top contender to return to the premiership had to abandon his plans because of Washington’s veto.

Al-Zaidi, a 40-year-old banker with no political base, was the man left standing.His lack of an established political base is part of his usefulness. He owes his position less to Baghdad’s ballot box than to the pressure exerted by Trump’s Treasury.The banker’s own ledger is not clear.

In 2024, Iraq’s Central Bank barred al-Zaidi’s own institution, Al-Janoob Islamic Bank, from US-dollar transactions as part of a wider crackdown intended to curb illicit dollar flows to Iran. He was never charged. Neither the bank nor the man is currently sanctioned. But the file exists. Its existence could give Washington another source of leverage should al-Zaidi drag his feet.

The real power in Baghdad now sits in one man’s portfolio. Tom Barrack holds three titles at once: ambassador to Turkiye, envoy to Syria, and now envoy to Iraq. His influence rests less on diplomacy than on Washington’s financial leverage over Baghdad. Iraq’s oil revenue sits in an account at the Federal Reserve Bank of New York. In April, Washington blocked a cash shipment of nearly $500m drawn from those revenues and suspended parts of its security cooperation. Oil funds roughly 90 percent of Iraq’s budget. Barrack does not need to threaten military force when the administration he represents can reach directly into the financial system on which the Iraqi state depends.

Washington’s demand that Iraq bring all armed factions under state control remains far from resolved. Shia Cleric Muqtada al-Sadr dissolved his Saraya al-Salam militia in late May. Other militias such as Asa’ib Ahl al-Haq and Kataib Imam Ali have announced steps towards handing over their weapons or placing them under fuller state control. That is real movement. But Kataib Hezbollah and Harakat al-Nujaba, the two factions most tightly bound to Tehran, have rejected full disarmament. In their own words, their weapons are not for bargaining. Washington has answered in kind. US strikes killed dozens of Iranian-backed Popular Mobilization Forces (PMF) fighters this spring; the Treasury has sanctioned seven militia commanders by name. Baghdad has set September 30 as its disarmament deadline, the same date on which the remaining US forces are expected to leave Iraq. Whether the hardest factions bend by then remains the open question that Washington has yet to answer honestly.

Even Grand Ayatollah Ali al-Sistani’s authority has limits here, as it always has. Al-Sistani’s 2014 fatwa built the PMF’s founding myth. But his call was for men to defend Iraq under the state’s command, not to form independent militias. The hardline factions never answered to Najaf. They answer to Tehran. al-Sistani’s own representative in Karbala has also pressed publicly for exclusive state control of weapons. His influence remains significant, but it has never extended to full control over these factions, and the current standoff is making that reality harder to ignore.

The prize Washington actually wants, however, lies underground. Chevron is negotiating an expanded role in Iraq’s oil sector, while other US companies are pursuing contracts in gas, electricity and export infrastructure. Baghdad wants production up from 4.5 million barrels a day to 7 million within three years, though doing so would require a substantially larger OPEC quota. Western Iraq’s gas reserves, largely untapped, could one day elevate the country into a dominant regional energy player and exporter. This is the potential bonanza al-Zaidi is being asked to unlock in exchange for the loyalty Washington is seeking.

Kurdistan’s place in this emerging arrangement is still unclear. Barrack has called the old Baghdad-Erbil federal model outright “Balkanization”, a structure he blames for letting Iran fill the vacuum. Yet the same envoy spent much of June pressing the prime minister of the Kurdish region, Masrour Barzani, to reactivate the Kurdistan parliament and form a new cabinet, not dissolve it. Read together, these positions suggest a clear message: Washington wants a functioning, cooperative Kurdistan region, firmly inside Washington’s orbit, not an autonomous wildcard and not a vassal of Baghdad’s sectarian blocs either.

Stripped of diplomatic varnish, Washington’s vision for Iraq is this: no militias operating outside the state; no Iranian veto over Iraqi policy; no single sect running the table from Baghdad; a Western economic orientation locked in by contracts, not sentiment; American energy firms as the primary beneficiaries; and a prime minister who answers, in practice, to Tom Barrack before he answers to his own parliament. Whether Iraq is pressured towards the Abraham Accords, whether the old nationalist and Ba’athist-adjacent currents find any oxygen again, whether sectarian parties actually lose their seats at the ballot box, these remain predictions, not settled facts.

What is clear is simpler and starker. Iraq spent two decades as the ground on which Iran and America fought indirectly, through proxies and sanctions. It is now becoming something else: a state whose oil, banking system and militias are all being renegotiated at once under intense US pressure. At the centre of this transformation is a banker-premier chosen in twenty-five minutes and now expected to deliver by September 30.

The Gulf model, from Riyadh and Abu Dhabi to Manama, Kuwait, Doha and Muscat, took decades to lock in. Trump’s Washington wants to compress Iraq’s version into a single presidential term. Whether Baghdad survives that compression intact, or merely changes which capital it answers to, is the question al-Zaidi’s visit left unresolved.

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

May God have mercy on Sheikh Hamad bin Khalifa Al Thani, the humane emir, the brave leader, and the great father, who loved Qatar and its people. Advancing the nation, both in the present and the future, was his primary concern and highest goal; today, it occupies advanced ranks across all fields, including media.

The Al Jazeera Media Network was one of the projects launched during his reign, may God rest his soul.

One day, His Highness summoned me, and I met him at his home. He informed me that he intended to establish a television news channel to be named Al Jazeera. It would enjoy a wide margin of freedom so it would be different from what people were accustomed to seeing in the Arab media landscape.

It would be a news channel that operates according to the principles of free journalism, akin to professional international media institutions and outlets.

We began constructing the building not far from Qatar Television, and we proceeded to equip it with broadcasting and satellite communication equipment, and prepared the newsroom to receive those who would work there.

His Highness was keen on following the progress of all major projects, offering encouragement and guidance, despite his immersion in state affairs, having taken the reins of power only a few months prior at the time.

The Board of Directors was formed, and the director general of the channel was appointed. Then the steps of attracting and recruiting journalistic and technical personnel began.

Journalists and staff arrived, and the newsroom came to life. The channel’s slogan, “The Opinion and the Other Opinion”, was set and trial broadcasting commenced.

In late November 1996, the first half-hour news bulletin aired, serving as a window outside the general norm. The beginning consisted of six hours of broadcasting per day.

Signs of success emerged from the early days when journalists and the general public began talking about a new voice unlike anything the Arab world had seen before. Everyone felt joyful at the success of the idea after doubts had troubled many.

Sheikh Hamad bin Khalifa used to visit the channel, but he never once interfered in any coverage or programme, as long as everything proceeded according to professional rules.

This is what strengthened everyone’s belonging to the project and cemented the conviction that it was a project for the nation, aimed at conveying the truth from the field in image and word, no matter the hardships and sacrifices.

It was not unexpected for His Highness that the channel — with its strong performance in the arena of news and talk shows, and its independent, professional editorial policy — would face opposition and pressure from both the Arab and international spheres alike.

However, Sheikh Hamad bin Khalifa did not yield to this, driven by his belief in the importance of independent and free media. This served as a protective umbrella for the channel and its employees, reinforcing their spirit of belonging, deepening their faith in their message, and increasing their readiness to continue contributing.

His vision for the future of Al Jazeera also proved true. The painful targeting it endured over the years did not deter it from continuing to carry its independent message. Its impact continues to grow day by day, within its region and beyond. It changes concepts, broadens culture and awareness, and shifts media equations around the world, north and south. The network today occupies a leading position at the forefront of both the traditional media landscape and the digital sphere.

Among all the projects established by His Highness, Al Jazeera held a special place. In my final meeting with him, may God have mercy on him, his health condition did not prevent him from asking about Al Jazeera and checking on its current state and future, just as he used to do with the workers in the rest of the country’s projects.

Sheikh Tamim bin Hamad Al Thani succeeded his father as emir. He too faced, during one of the most difficult periods in Qatar’s history, pressures seeking to alter the network’s approach, yet he did not accept any interference in its editorial policies, regardless of the source.

Furthermore, he does not personally intervene in its operations as long as it adheres to professional rules and ethics.

This is the story of Al Jazeera’s inception with its visionary founder, Sheikh Hamad bin Khalifa, up until he passed away.

However, this article does not recount the complete history of Al Jazeera; rather, it presents merely one chapter of its tale. It is a story that will continue to be read, emulated and cited as an example of a successful enterprise that left a profound impact spanning generations, despite the hardships and challenges it endured.

Above all, these words — and many more — cannot do justice to Sheikh Hamad bin Khalifa for all that he gave to his nation, his people, and his extended Qatari family. He dedicated his entire life to serving them and spearheading developmental projects across all fields. Among these is the Al Jazeera project, which is widely regarded as a success story acclaimed by the entire world and described as an exceptional media model.

May God have mercy upon Sheikh Hamad bin Khalifa — the human, the father and the leader. May He grant him rest in His vast paradise and reward him with the best of rewards on behalf of us all. And may God protect the emir and wise leader, Sheikh Tamim, and protect Qatar and its people.

A version of this piece was first published on Al Jazeera Arabic. 

A US trade expert says the US, Mexico, and Canada need to hold trilateral talks to get a cross-border trade deal signed. Ex-lead US international trade negotiator Harry Broadman says the longer it takes Trump to get a trade deal with his neighbours, the weaker he looks to China.

Edward Pinto, co-director of the American Enterprise Institute Housing Center argues that the new US housing bill is unlikely to significantly ease the country’s housing crisis. He says it’s too limited to address the core issues – like restrictive local zoning. For the full segment, watch Al Jazeera’s ‘This is America’.

On Tuesday, two tankers were attacked as they transited the Strait of Hormuz via a passage in Omani waters. Gulf countries responded by sharply condemning the attacks and blaming Iran. The United States then launched attacks on Iranian territory, to which Tehran responded by striking Bahrain and Kuwait. US President Donald Trump has now said the memorandum of understanding (MoU) that Iran and the US signed is void.

This latest escalation illustrates how the Strait of Hormuz has become the central issue in the US-Israel war with Iran that began on February 28. Disagreements over the strait’s future have proven to be the hardest to resolve in the US-Iranian negotiations, as questions about Iran’s nuclear programme have been put to the side.

The disruption of traffic in the Strait of Hormuz has an immediate and costly price tag attached, for Iran, for its Gulf neighbours, and for a global economy that has spent four and a half months absorbing the largest oil supply shock in the history of the modern market.

Iran’s leverage is also its liability

For Tehran, the strait is its strongest card – one that is also incredibly costly. Since the war began, Iranian forces have mined the strait, attacked vessels and cut traffic through the passage by roughly 95 percent. This has led to what the International Energy Agency’s Fatih Birol has called “the largest supply disruption in the history of the global oil market”.

That leverage is real: about a fifth of the world’s oil and a fifth of its liquefied natural gas (LNG) normally move through Hormuz, and no amount of Gulf pipeline capacity can fully replace it.

But Iran has effectively been strangling its own lifeline along with everyone else’s. Iranian crude, once sold for $3 a barrel less than international benchmarks, is now selling at a 20 percent discount. The country’s oil exports collapsed by more than 90 percent in May as US naval enforcement squeezed its shadow fleet.

Even before the war, the World Bank projected that Iran’s economy would contract in 2026. The impact of the collapse of oil sales will be far-reaching because of the closure.

A 60-day US Treasury waiver issued on June 22, permitting Iran to sell oil at full market rates through August 21, but has now been renounced following the attacks on Tuesday.

This is the economic backdrop to Iran’s insistence on asserting joint authority over the strait and floating a system of transit fees or “service charges” for passing ships. Washington has made clear that Iran cannot charge tolls in international waters governed by the right of transit passage under the Law of the Sea.

For Tehran, the dispute is not really about toll revenue, which would be rather modest when compared to its oil income; it is about establishing precedent and sovereignty over a chokepoint that is its only real point of leverage once sanctions relief and frozen-asset release are negotiated.

The latter is itself contested: Iran wants half of an estimated $25bn in frozen assets released immediately, while the US has resisted. A separate $300bn reconstruction fund floated in the MoU has already become a political flashpoint in Washington.

The Gulf is paying for a crisis it didn’t start

For the Gulf states, the Strait of Hormuz crisis has meant improvising around geography. Saudi Arabia has redirected crude through its roughly 1,200km (746-mile) East-West pipeline to the Red Sea port of Yanbu, and the UAE has leaned on the Habshan-to-Fujairah line to the Gulf of Oman.

Together, though, these pipelines carry a fraction of what Hormuz once did, at best 7 million barrels a day of design capacity for the Saudi line and under 1.8 million for the Emirati one, against roughly 20 million barrels a day that transited the strait before the war.

Both alternatives have themselves come under attack: Iranian strikes cut the East-West pipeline’s throughput by an estimated 700,000 barrels a day in April, and drone attacks disrupted loading at Fujairah. Seaborne crude exports from Gulf states excluding Iran fell by roughly half between February and March.

Qatar, host to the talks between Iran and the US, has its own acute stake: its entire LNG export industry depends on the Strait of Hormuz, and it has been pushing the hardest for a settlement.

Oman, drawn into Iran’s sovereignty claim as co-owner of the strait’s territorial waters, is caught between commercial interest in a resolution and a legal position, as a signatory to the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) that publicly rejects Iranian tolls. Iraq, highly dependent on its Gulf terminals, has quietly explored an export route north through Turkiye.

None of these workarounds are cheap, and all of them are political as well as commercial, tying Gulf capitals’ economic fortunes to a settlement between the US and Iran.

The rest of the world: Insurance bills and inflation

Beyond the region, the crisis has been transmitted mainly through two channels: price and insurance. Higher oil prices are passed on to various consumer goods down supply chains and suppress growth. According to estimates, the global economy can slow down to 2.8 percent in 2026 from 3.4 percent last year due to the closure of the strait.

Insurance for Hormuz transit, which cost roughly 0.25 percent of a vessel’s value before the war, has spiked as high as 8 percent, turning a single large tanker’s coverage into a $3m-to-$8m expense. Shipping lines including CMA CGM and Hapag-Lloyd have layered on conflict surcharges of $1,500 to $2,000 per twenty-foot equivalent unit (TEU). Washington’s own International Development Finance Corporation has had to step in as, in effect, an insurer of last resort, offering up to $40bn in reinsurance capacity to keep vessels moving.

China has absorbed the largest share of this pain: It takes close to 40 percent of its crude imports through the Strait of Hormuz and buys more than 80 percent of Iran’s oil exports outright, making it simultaneously Tehran’s most important customer and one of the war’s most exposed bystanders. Japan, which sources 70 percent of its Middle Eastern crude via the strait, has already tapped strategic reserves.

For import-dependent economies across Asia and Europe, the strait’s fate is not an abstraction of Middle East diplomacy; it shows up directly in fuel, freight and fertiliser prices.

Oil and gas dominate the headlines, but roughly 30 percent of the world’s seaborne fertiliser trade also passes through Hormuz.

The World Bank’s fertiliser price index has risen more than 12 percent in the first quarter of 2026 and has since climbed to its highest level since October 2022, driven largely by the closure. The Food and Agriculture Organization has warned that the resulting scarcity of urea and other nitrogen products will show up as lower yields through the 2026–2027 growing season, hitting import-dependent and already food-insecure countries in Africa and Asia the hardest.

Unlike an oil-price spike, which mainly stings at the pump, a fertiliser shortfall reaches into next year’s harvest, meaning an unresolved Hormuz standoff carries a slower-moving but longer tail of economic damage than crude prices alone suggest.

That is the arithmetic weighing on both sides. A deal that reopens the Strait of Hormuz without resolving who controls it risks recreating the same instability that shut it in the first place; one that concedes Iranian toll authority risks a precedent Washington and shipping nations will not accept. Until that circle is squared, the global economy is left pricing in a chokepoint that neither side can fully afford to keep closed, nor fully agree how to reopen.

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

Dr. Mukesh Kapila, former UN Humanitarian Coordinator for Sudan, warns the current crisis in El Obeid, Sudan could be even worse than what unfolded in El Fasher in 2024-2025. However, he says sustained international attention and Al Jazeera’s continued coverage could help deter the RSF.

The penalty awarded against the Senegalese national team in the final moments of their match against Belgium on Wednesday caused widespread controversy after it led to their elimination from the Round of 32 at the 2026 World Cup, in a harsh turn of events that saw the “Lions of Teranga” go from leading 2-0 to losing 3-2.

Honduran referee Said Martinez awarded a penalty kick at the end of the second period of extra time, after a VAR review, following a challenge by Senegal’s Lamine Camara on Belgian captain Youri Tielemans, with the score tied 2-2 and the match heading towards a penalty shootout.

The “Archivo VAR” platform, which specialises in analysing refereeing decisions, said that VAR intervened excessively during the match, confirming that it was Tielemans who extended his foot in front of Camara, causing the contact.

The platform added, via its account on “X,” that the incident did not warrant VAR intervention, explaining that it was the Belgian player who forced the contact entirely, and that the situation did not amount to the clear and obvious error needed to justify the referee reviewing the decision.

The decision triggered a wave of controversy on social media, with one fan writing: “This is 100% robbery. Senegal have been robbed. How is this a penalty? Belgium do not deserve to go through corruption.”

Sports content creator Sneako blamed the result on match ‘”rigging”.

“Rigged! Senegal should storm the pitch right now. Leave the pitch and go home. This is rigged!”

Another sports fan wrote: “I’m sorry, but this was never a penalty. Camara went to clear the ball, but it was Tielemans who got in his way. Senegal was robbed, and it should have been Belgium going out.”

Spanish sports journalist Manolo Lama commented: “They stole the Africa Cup of Nations from them, and now they’re stealing all the solidarity with Senegal at the World Cup too.”

Egyptian journalist Mohamed Saeed linked the incident to what happened in the 2025 Africa Cup of Nations final against Morocco, writing: “You can feel that the penalty awarded against Senegal in the final seconds was a harsh lesson and a difficult test. After the scenes from the Africa Cup of Nations final, I think that if it weren’t for the change in the rules around the withdrawal incident, this scene could have repeated itself.”

Another sports fan, Fares Ahmed, wrote that football ”teaches lessons” and the outcome brought back the memory of Senegal at the tournament in Morocco.

“They took advantage of the tournament’s vulnerable position and the host’s need to make it a success, and used that to impose their pressure,” Ahmed wrote. “Today, the scene was almost repeated against Belgium — a penalty in the final minutes, objections, and disbelief over the decision — but this time there was no threat of withdrawal, because you can’t risk penalties like that in a tournament the size of the World Cup.”

Drawing a connection between the two events, one follower wrote on “X”: “When there was a clear penalty in the Morocco final, they rebelled against the decision and tarnished the reputation of African football, just because the tournament was in Morocco. But when an unclear penalty came along that eliminated them from the World Cup, they stayed silent, because this time it was in the West.”

After the dramatic penalty was awarded, Tielemans stepped up to take it and scored successfully, netting Belgium’s third goal and capping off an unexpected comeback that eliminated the Lions of Teranga.

But back on the pitch, Senegal had the run of play for 85 minutes. The African team held a two-goal lead, and had all but secured a spot in the round of 16 at the World Cup.

Within five minutes, it crumbled and the players were feeling it.

“We were at the heart of writing the beautiful pages of the history of our football in this world,” defender Krepin Diatta said. “And we have to accept that we failed at our mission.”

Senegal midfielder Habib Diarra said. “We had a good first half, but it wasn’t enough. A match lasts 90 minutes, and we’re devastated. It’s very tough. I don’t know what to say. When you’re on the pitch, you have to give your all, and that’s not what we did. We’ve only got ourselves to blame.”

At the G7 summit in Evian-les-Bains, France, on June 17, Kenyan President William Ruto revealed that his country was nearing a critical minerals agreement with the United States. Far more significant was Kenya’s insistence that its rare earths, lithium, graphite, copper, nickel and niobium be refined and processed domestically rather than exported as raw materials. This was not simply another minerals deal; it was a signal that African governments are trying to rewrite the extractive bargain.

That demand, long voiced but rarely enforced, is beginning to reshape African resource governance. Namibia has prohibited exports of unprocessed lithium, cobalt, manganese, graphite and rare earths. Mali is constructing a 200-tonne-a-year gold refinery while requiring more local refining. Ghana will begin buying 30 percent of large-scale gold output from July 2026 to strengthen local refining and reserves. Across the continent, governments are increasingly requiring natural resources to create industries at home before generating profits abroad. The turn is not confined to critical minerals; it reflects a wider push to keep more value from natural resources at home.

Kenya’s move comes as the global race for critical minerals intensifies and Africa assumes greater strategic importance. Lithium consumption rose by almost 30 percent in 2024 as countries accelerated investment in electric vehicles, battery storage, renewable energy systems and advanced manufacturing. The International Energy Agency (IEA) projects lithium use will increase fivefold by 2040, with graphite and nickel requirements roughly doubling.

This commodity boom differs in one crucial respect: The supply of critical minerals cannot expand rapidly. New mines often take well more than a decade to move from discovery through permits and development to first production, even as global demand continues to accelerate. The IEA estimates that, under its Stated Policies Scenario, announced mining projects will leave lithium supply 40 percent short of projected demand by 2035. Countries seeking secure supplies therefore have greater incentives to invest where the minerals already exist, giving African governments more room to negotiate local value addition, technology transfer and industrial investment.

For generations, the continent’s economic role has been brutally simple: Dig, ship and buy back the finished product. The transition minerals boom offers a rare opportunity to reverse that relationship. But this will require reliable power, transport, finance and skills, not export bans alone.

Mining is only the first step. The greatest wealth is created further along the production chain, when minerals are refined, processed and assembled into products that command far higher prices than the ore that left the ground. United Nations data illustrates how rapidly export value rises along the lithium-ion supply chain. In 2022, global exports of lithium ore and brine were worth about $20bn. Battery materials generated $51bn, cell components and battery packs $106bn, and electric vehicles $135bn.

Africa’s challenge is to move further along that chain. Every additional stage completed on the continent captures more income, creates more skilled jobs and embeds more technology before a single battery reaches the market.

Refining minerals is not an end in itself. It is the first step towards building the productive capabilities that distinguish manufacturing economies from extractive ones. Around every refinery cluster, engineering companies, chemical producers, equipment manufacturers, laboratories and specialist suppliers can emerge. Taiwan’s experience offers a broader lesson: With sustained policy, skills and supplier networks, industrial capabilities built in one generation can create higher-value industries in the next.

Africa’s growing confidence reflects a profound shift in supply chain politics. In a market this concentrated, countries that combine mineral deposits with downstream ambition can negotiate stronger terms. What has changed is not simply demand, but dependency: China is the dominant refiner for 19 of the 20 strategic minerals tracked by the IEA. For copper, lithium, nickel, cobalt, graphite and rare earths, the top three refining countries control 86 percent of processed output. The continent should demand beneficiation, meaning the processing of raw materials into higher-value products before export, alongside technology transfer and industrial investment before those resources enter global supply chains.

History offers a cautionary lesson.

Gold, diamonds, copper and oil generated billions of dollars in exports across the continent, yet most resource-rich economies remained dependent on exporting raw commodities rather than manufacturing higher-value products.

The colonial economy was built around those outward flows. In what is now Zambia, copper from Nkana, Mufulira and Nchanga moved through Ndola and across the rail network to Beira, the Mozambican port that linked the Copperbelt to overseas smelters and factories. Across the Gold Coast, in present-day Ghana, cocoa from Kumasi travelled by rail to Sekondi and later Takoradi before entering Britain’s chocolate industry.

Today’s export restrictions, refining mandates and beneficiation policies seek to disrupt that flow. The prize is to capture the industries built around those minerals before they take root elsewhere.

The real wealth in Africa’s transition minerals boom will not be measured by what leaves its ports, but by what never has to. Every tonne of lithium refined, every battery precursor produced and every stage of manufacturing completed before export shifts more income, technology, investment and skilled employment onto the continent.

Research by Publish What You Pay suggests that expanding higher-value mineral processing across Africa could generate an additional $32bn in annual exports, add up to $24bn to the continent’s gross domestic product and create about 2.3 million jobs. More importantly, it would leave behind industries, technologies and expertise that outlast the minerals themselves.

Nigeria’s Dangote refinery provides Africa’s clearest demonstration of what beneficiation can achieve. Located in the Lekki Free Zone outside Lagos and built at a cost of about $20bn, the 650,000-barrel-a-day facility is Africa’s largest single-train refinery.

Since beginning production in early 2024, the refinery has helped transform Nigeria’s energy sector. For decades, the country imported much of its refined fuel, spending billions of dollars in foreign exchange. The refinery now supplies much of the domestic market while exporting petrol, diesel and jet fuel to Ghana, Cameroon, Togo, Burkina Faso and Ivory Coast.

Between February and March 2026, Nigeria’s clean petroleum exports more than doubled from about 100,000 barrels a day to 214,000 barrels, while helping anchor a new industrial ecosystem of marine infrastructure, storage terminals, petrochemical plants and fertiliser production.

Indonesia exemplifies the same principle.

After banning exports of unprocessed nickel ore on January 1, 2020, Indonesia became a leading producer and exporter of processed nickel products. The country targeted $21.3bn in foreign investment in mining and processing projects, while the value of its nickel product exports rose from less than $1bn in 2015 to nearly $20bn in 2022. New smelters, refineries, battery-material plants and electric vehicle manufacturing have expanded rapidly, though the boom has also brought environmental and labour concerns.

Africa’s transition minerals require the same strategic intent. If Zambia refines copper, Zimbabwe processes lithium, the Democratic Republic of the Congo produces battery precursors, and South Africa manufactures battery components, engineering firms will expand, chemical industries will grow, and skilled workers will find opportunities at home instead of abroad. Railways will carry higher-value products instead of raw ore, tax revenues will become more stable, and manufacturing will increasingly replace extraction as the main driver of long-term economic growth.

No African country needs to manufacture every component of an electric vehicle or every battery cell. Copper, cobalt, lithium, graphite and manganese are spread across different economies, making regional integration an economic necessity rather than a political aspiration. Shared power systems, transport corridors, research institutions, standards and integrated markets will determine whether Africa exports minerals or manufactures products.

That makes the African Continental Free Trade Area indispensable. Properly implemented, it can turn isolated mineral deposits into regional manufacturing systems by lowering trade barriers and allowing countries to specialise. Together, African economies can develop an integrated industrial base that none could achieve alone.

Africa has lived through too many extractive booms that enriched others first. Copper built industries across Europe and North America while Zambia remained dependent on raw exports. Cocoa supplied Britain’s chocolate manufacturers while Ghana captured only a fraction of the value added.

The global energy transition gives Africa its best opportunity in generations to rewrite that history.

Africa can finally mine, beneficiate and industrialise on its own terms.

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

In a recent interview with the New York Times, Vice President JD Vance denied that there was an “intense rivalry” between him and Secretary of State Marco Rubio. And yet, reports and speculations about tensions between them continue to emerge, with the Rubio camp allegedly spreading rumours that Vance was thinking about pulling out of the presidential campaign before it even starts

In response, perhaps, during the past two weeks, the vice president has stepped out of his routine public persona that usually avoids controversy to make bold statements critical of Israel. Rubio, on the other hand, has continued to hold the party line of unconditional support for Israel. While Vance has led efforts to negotiate a peace deal with Iran, which have rattled Israel, Rubio has spearheaded efforts to pressure the Lebanese government into an agreement on Israel’s terms.

By becoming the face of Republican scepticism of Israel and clashing with his likely presidential election rival Rubio, Vance appears to be charting his own way to the presidency – one that distances the vice president from what increasingly seem to be unpopular foreign policy positions.

Rubio, until recently, had been on the upswing, assigned ever-more important responsibilities by Trump. He has been a leading voice within the administration for a hawkish approach that has encompassed military action from Venezuela to Iran, outweighing the counsel of the more isolationist Vance.

When it comes to Israel, Rubio has made a point of being as public and proactive as possible in his support for that country and its prime minister, Benjamin Netanyahu, supporting his appeal for the US to enter the war with Iran, and even going so far as to put his name on determinations leveraging claims of national security threats to deport foreign students critical of Israel.

While the bulk of his public statements have been directed at the Netanyahu government, it is hard not to read some of Vance’s recent comments as being directly responsive to Rubio’s actions not only abroad, but at home as well.

As Vance put it, “…pro-Israel people in the United States make two critical mistakes. One, on the one hand, is not delineating between America’s interest and Israeli interests because they’re not the same. But the second is always conflating criticism of a particular government with Jew hatred, because if everything is Jew hatred, then nothing is Jew hatred.”

But, if Vance is creating space between himself and Rubio (including, apparently, by eschewing the increasingly weaponised terminology of “antisemitism”), it must also be the case that there is a political case for his doing so. That case has yet to be tested on the Republican side, where the political elites well beyond Rubio continue to move in lockstep with Israel’s Netanyahu.

But Vance, as ever, is reading the base. The same polls that show an absolute collapse of Democratic grassroots support for Israel also show an unmistakable weakening of that support in the Republican base, with one recent survey finding that 57 percent of Republicans under 50 now hold negative views of Israel.

Despite the inability of Republican elected officials to rally support behind their criticism of Israel (neither of the two most visible examples, Representatives Marjorie Taylor Greene and Thomas Massie will re-enter Congress next year), the demand signal for more frank conversation has propelled right-wing commenters like Tucker Carlson and Candace Owens to ever-greater prominence. Looking into the social media landscape, Republican questioning of the Israel relationship – particularly under the banner question of whether it represents “America First” or “Israel First,” is inescapable.

Which is not to say it will be an easy path. As sitting vice president, Vance must defer to Trump; while the latter is currently frustrated with Netanyahu, there are no guarantees that the relationship will not warm up between now and 2028 – or that if Israel elects a new leader this autumn, that that person would not be able to rebuild much of Israel’s political capital in Washington.

And similarly, if Vance’s stance on Israel helps him capture the “America First” – which is no easy task given the cohesion within that movement of the Christian Zionist camp that remains strongly pro-Israel – he may then have to contend with a Democratic competitor who seizes the Israel-sceptic mantle more credibly.

Or not. It is still early, but the favoured nominee on the Democratic side appears to be California Governor Gavin Newsom, whose few forays into commentary on Palestine and Israel have quickly been walked back to appease the pro-Israel backers of the party establishment. Indeed, the Democrats will have their own complicated, and likely ugly, battle to fight when it comes to Israel.

What does appear certain, however, is that Israel will be a wedge issue in the upcoming election – and in the wake of the failed Iran war and increasingly unpopular attacks on free speech, both greatly driven by the government of Israel or its aligned lobbies, there is an opening here that Vance, given his competition with Rubio, would have been foolish to ignore.

So is Vance’s public criticism of Israel – and pro-Israel voices within his own party genuine, or calculated? As Vance put it in his book Hillbilly Elegy, “I don’t believe in epiphanies. I don’t believe in transformative moments, as transformation is harder than a moment. I’ve seen far too many people awash in a genuine desire to change only to lose their mettle when they realised just how difficult change actually is.”

Until now, little is harder in Republican politics than to go against the prevailing dogma on Israel. And while Vance has long demonstrated what might be termed isolationist tendencies, there is no reason to think that his recent comments represent an epiphany. Rather, like any politician, he is reading the tea leaves, and sensing an opportunity on the back of a change that is filtering across American public opinion.

Vance may not be committed to driving that change. But he may be smart enough to ride it.

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

The memorandum of understanding (MoU) the United States and Iran have signed is not a peace treaty. It is not even a credible framework for one. A vocal chorus of critics has rushed to portray it as a humiliation – evidence that President Donald Trump was manoeuvred into negotiations and extracted a poor deal from a regime that outplayed him.

That reading mistakes a mirage for reality. The Trump administration entered these talks with a precise understanding of what the Iranian regime is, what it wants and what any agreement with it is actually worth. No one in that negotiating team harbours the illusion that Tehran intends to honour commitments that constrain its core ambitions. The MоU is not a peace settlement. It is a mutually understood pause – a tactical intermission chosen by both sides for reasons that have nothing to do with trust and everything to do with time.

To grasp why, one needs only consult Iran’s unbroken record. That record is not a matter of interpretation or political dispute. It is a documented history of agreements made, commitments given and obligations systematically abandoned whenever honouring them conflicted with the regime’s objectives.

The pattern is consistent enough to constitute a doctrine: Iran negotiates under pressure, signs what is necessary to relieve that pressure and resumes its course once the immediate threat has passed.

The deeply flawed 2015 Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action (JCPOA) was the most prominent recent demonstration of this cycle. Presented as a landmark of multilateral diplomacy, it was in practice a subsidised intermission – a breathing space Iran used to consolidate resources, sustain its proxy networks and continue advancing its strategic programme. The JCPOA did not change Iranian behaviour. It funded and protected it.

The Trump administration’s “maximum pressure” campaign was a direct response to that lesson: A regime of this kind cannot be managed through diplomatic lifelines. It can only be constrained by pressure severe enough to leave it no viable alternative to compliance.

The new MoU does not signal that Iran has changed. Its calculus remains what it has always been – survival and expansion, pursued through whatever tactical posture the moment requires. When pressure mounts, Iran negotiates. When pressure eases, Iran advances. Its negotiators are, by all available evidence, prepared to offer assurances they have no intention of keeping. This is not a failure of diplomatic craftsmanship. This is simply the nature of any negotiation with a regime like Iran’s.

Nowhere is this more apparent than in the Iranian nuclear programme. As a signatory to the Non-Proliferation Treaty, Iran has repeatedly committed to transparent cooperation with the International Atomic Energy Agency. It has repeatedly broken those commitments, blocking inspections, constructing clandestine enrichment facilities, destroying evidence and systematically deceiving the international community. The pattern is not one of occasional noncompliance. It is deliberate, sustained deception in pursuit of a single unwavering objective: the acquisition of a nuclear weapon.

A state genuinely committed to civilian nuclear energy has no need for a vast and enormously expensive domestic enrichment programme. Nuclear fuel can be purchased – from Russia, among others – at a fraction of the cost and without the international confrontation such a programme inevitably provokes.

Iran has chosen the far more costly and dangerous path for one reason: Enrichment is not a means to an end, but the end itself. Its rulers are committed to a nuclear weapon, and that commitment has survived changes in personnel, shifts in rhetoric and decades of pressure.

It will not be bargained away – and here lies the critical point that no amount of diplomatic optimism can paper over. Iran’s rulers are not pragmatic actors engaged in a conventional cost-benefit calculation. Their goals are theological and strategic in a way that places them beyond the reach of ordinary negotiation.

They do not govern in the interests of the Iranian people. The sanctions they have endured have devastated ordinary Iranians – driven up poverty, hollowed out the middle class, denied the population access to medicines and opportunity. None of that has moved the regime one degree from its course.

This is a regime that could, if it chose, transform its position entirely. It could make peace with its neighbours, normalise relations with the international community, shed the sanctions that have devastated its economy and dramatically improve the lives of Iranians. The price is not beyond reach: abandon the nuclear weapons programme, cease development of offensive ballistic missiles and end the sponsorship of terrorist proxies. Iran’s rulers have refused that bargain consistently and completely.

That is the essential context for understanding what the Trump administration is actually doing. It would be a serious misjudgement to read this MoU as evidence of American weakness or strategic confusion. The team that designed and executed the most effective pressure campaign against Iran in recent memory is not naive about this adversary.

Trump enters this pause knowing that Iran will not honour commitments that genuinely constrain it. He is not expecting otherwise. Neither side, in all likelihood, operates under any such illusion – which is precisely what makes the critics’ alarm about a “bad deal” somewhat beside the point.

You cannot be cheated by an agreement you never expected the other party to keep.

What this MoU represents is a mutually understood strategic pause, a breathing space both parties have chosen, for entirely different reasons, over immediate confrontation. Iran needs economic relief. A regime facing internal decay and a depleted treasury has strong incentives to buy time, replenish its resources and wait out what it calculates to be a finite window.

Tehran is acutely aware that Trump has roughly two and a half years remaining in office. From its perspective, survival through that period is itself a form of victory.

Washington’s calculus is different in kind. Keeping the Strait of Hormuz open is an immediate, non-negotiable goal – a choked strait means an energy price shock with global consequences. Beyond that, the US has its own repositioning to accomplish. Military inventories drawn down through recent operations are being restocked. Strategic options are being preserved and expanded.

A pause that enables that rebuilding, while avoiding a premature confrontation on unfavourable terms, is not a concession. It is preparation.

Trump has never wavered in his commitment to eliminating Iran as a strategic threat – not through wishful diplomacy, but through the kind of pressure that forecloses options. That commitment did not expire with the signing of this MoU. The question for Tehran is not whether American resolve exists but whether it can be outlasted. That is a wager the Iranian regime has made before and lost.

The international community will, as usual, observe from a careful distance. Many nations will urge Iran to be stopped while taking few steps to stop it, criticising US action and inaction with equal facility.

Trump understands this dynamic. It is the foundation of his approach to alliances – the insistence that partners bear proportionate burdens rather than simply drawing on American resolve while contributing little of their own.

The MoU will not resolve the Iranian problem. It was not designed to. When its terms expire or when Iran decides it has served its purpose, the nuclear programme will resume its advance, the proxies will be better resourced, and the Strait of Hormuz will once again become a flashpoint.

That outcome is not a possibility. Given Iran’s record, it is a near-certainty. The only consequential variable is whether the US and those willing to stand alongside it will be better positioned to act decisively when that moment arrives. Far from a mirage, the evidence suggests that is precisely what this administration is working to ensure.

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

The recent opinion article by senior Ethiopian officials Redwan Hussein and Getachew Reda, published on Al Jazeera English’s website, attempts to portray Ethiopia as an innocent victim being reluctantly “dragged” into conflict by external actors. In doing so, the piece seeks to absolve the ruling Prosperity Party of responsibility for Ethiopia’s mounting domestic crises.

More dangerously, this narrative serves as a diplomatic smoke screen designed to normalise the unprovoked hostility, state-sponsored inflammatory rhetoric and aggressive military mobilisations that the Ethiopian government has directed towards Eritrea since late 2023.

By trying to reframe contemporary internal tensions as the direct product of external overreach or unresolved past grievances, the current Ethiopian security discourse represents a profound and dangerous inversion of reality. It distorts the true drivers of instability in the region to shield the federal authorities from international scrutiny.

The catastrophic war that engulfed northern Ethiopia for two years, from the initial outbreak of hostilities on November 4, 2020, until the signing of the cessation of hostilities agreement on November 2, 2022, did not arise from regional external manipulation or cross-border instigation. It was the product of Ethiopia’s long-standing internal ethnic cleavages and institutionalised political polarisation, rather than any external machinations.

The historical record confirms that Eritrea did not instigate this conflict, nor did it harbour expansionist designs on sovereign Ethiopian territory. Instead, Eritrea was reluctantly drawn into an imposed war at the explicit request and formal invitation of the Ethiopian federal government and for cogent reasons of self-defence.

Indeed, the broader objectives of the war agenda explicitly included and targeted the sovereignty and territorial integrity of Eritrea from its very inception. This reality is not a matter of speculative interpretation; it is an unalterable component of the public record.

Getachew’s own extensive public statements and numerous real-time posts under his official X handle during those tragic years easily validate that the targeting of Eritrea was a deliberate, premeditated strategy by regional forces rather than an accidental byproduct of a domestic policing action.

Following the formal cessation of hostilities, the political and military leadership of the Prosperity Party, extending from Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed downward, profusely and publicly expressed their profound gratitude to Eritrea. These acknowledgements were made through official statements, parliamentary discussions, state media and remarks by senior military officials. For Redwan and senior Prosperity Party officials to now retroactively frame Eritrea as an inherent antagonist or a constant spoiler of domestic peace runs completely counter to these explicit, recorded admissions.

This tendency towards revisionism is further illustrated by the highly romanticised anecdotes propagated by Getachew and Redwan regarding the tense environment during the Pretoria peace talks. Both officials have concocted a heavily theatrical and entirely fictitious story concerning the alleged consternation of their South African hosts, who supposedly feared that “the negotiating teams from the two warring Ethiopian parties might get into a fistfight in the middle of the conference hall if not continuously shepherded to steer clear of one another”.

According to this manufactured narrative, the hosts were then stunned to witness a “cordial tone”. This narrative of sudden, miraculous reconciliation between bitter enemies serves a specific propaganda purpose: it portrays the Pretoria Agreement as a spontaneous triumph of domestic unity over external division.

However, this narrative ignores the reality that months before the formal talks in South Africa, confidential contacts had already taken place in Djibouti and the Seychelles under the sponsorship of external mediators. As later acknowledged by Getachew himself, the warring parties had already established channels of communication while the war was still raging.

Under the deliberate prodding of elements within the Prosperity Party, the two teams explored options to join forces and redirect their combined military capacities towards a war of aggression against Eritrea. In their contorted views, a sovereign and stable Eritrea constituted the ultimate threat to their respective political futures.

When the Permanent Cessation of Hostilities Agreement was finally signed, it was fundamentally understood as a peace pact between internal warring sides within Ethiopia. It is, and remains, an Ethiopian affair, purely and exclusively. Its provisions concerned domestic constitutional arrangements, the disarmament of armed groups, and the restoration of federal authority.

Eritrea’s position regarding Pretoria has remained consistent and principled. It supports any genuine effort that promotes peace, stability, and predictability in Ethiopia and the wider region. A peaceful, stable, and united Ethiopia that respects the sovereignty of its neighbours is in the strategic interest of every state in the Horn of Africa. Eritrea possesses neither the political appetite nor the strategic interest to scuttle an agreement between competing Ethiopian political forces. A peaceful, unified, and stable Ethiopia that respects its neighbours is in the vital national security interest of every state in the region.

Against this backdrop, the current propaganda campaigns and transparent disinformation efforts, as epitomised by the recent opinion article, are systematically designed to re-package an unprovoked agenda of conflict and hostility that Addis Ababa has unleashed against Eritrea since December 2023.

During this period, the Prosperity Party abruptly shifted its state rhetoric, launching a manufactured campaign centred on what it termed “sovereign access to the sea”. To build legitimacy for this legally untenable and historically flawed narrative, the ruling party has systematically mobilised a vast, state-backed apparatus. Instructors, researchers, media figures, cultural icons and academic lecturers, both Ethiopian nationals and co-opted foreign commentators, have been aggressively deployed across international forums, television networks and digital platforms to push this warped sovereign access narrative.

This coordinated campaign seeks to normalise the idea that colonial boundaries in the Horn of Africa are negotiable in order to attempt to challenge inviolable principles of sovereignty and territorial integrity that have long underpinned regional stability.

This aggressive rhetoric has not been confined to speeches and opinion pieces. In a direct attempt to pull Eritrea into a militarised conflict, the ruling party has massed substantial military formations, heavy artillery, and mechanised divisions in close proximity to the Eritrean border.

This pattern of behaviour is directly mirrored along the northern frontier, where provocative pronouncements are accompanied by unremitting sabre-rattling regarding the acquisition of Assab and other Eritrean coastal lands through negotiations if possible, and by force if necessary.

The broader pattern extends beyond Eritrea. Ethiopia’s recent foreign policy conduct has increasingly generated tensions with several neighbouring states. The Memorandum of Understanding signed with Somaliland, which sought access to coastal territory without the consent of Somalia’s central government, triggered a major diplomatic crisis and raised serious questions regarding respect for established principles of sovereignty and territorial integrity.

Similarly, Ethiopia has repeatedly pursued interventionist policies in neighbouring conflicts in the quest for short-term geopolitical objectives. Whether in Somalia, Sudan or elsewhere, Addis Ababa’s reckless regional agenda of expansionism has contributed significantly to regional mistrust and destabilisation.

Thus, the narrative that Ethiopia is an involuntary victim being dragged back into war by external forces ignores the reality of the ruling party actively moving military assets, signing illegal treaties and threatening the borders of sovereign states. This explicitly coercive stance directly undermines the foundational principles of peaceful coexistence and good neighbourliness that are essential for the Horn’s stability.

Ultimately, peace in the Horn of Africa cannot be bargained away to appease the shifting calculations of a restless neighbour. The path forward demands an immediate end to the reckless sabre-rattling in pursuit of illicit “sovereign maritime access”, the unconditional cessation of cross-border proxy alignments, and a return to the foundational principles of non-interference and territorial integrity.

Until the international community confronts the true internal drivers of Addis Ababa’s aggressive posture rather than entertaining its manufactured grievances, the region will remain perilously vulnerable to dangerous miscalculation. Eritrea stands firm in its resolve, anchored in legal permanence and historical facts. Those who look to externalise their domestic ruin through regional destabilisation will find that Eritrea’s sovereignty is neither negotiable nor penetrable, and that lasting security can only be achieved when boundaries are respected and international law is upheld without exception.

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

Thomas Warrick, a nonresident senior fellow at the Atlantic Council, says the 60-day US-Iran talks face hurdles with regards to nuclear issues and sanctions, and will require time, willingness, and patience to achieve lasting results.

On June 14, the United States and Iran agreed to a framework to end their war. The Strait of Hormuz is to reopen, the bombing of Lebanon is to end and – most importantly – the killing is to stop. After more than 100 days of war that killed thousands, including Iran’s most senior leaders, and pushed the world economy to the brink, even a fragile truce feels like first light.

Let us welcome it, but also let us understand it. To grasp why this war happened, and the string of wars before it, we must name their common cause. That cause is “Greater Israel” – not the country of Israel but an idea of it – a terrible one. The idea of “Greater Israel” has been the cause of wars in Iraq, Gaza, Lebanon, Syria and Iran.

It holds that Israel should stretch over all of historic Palestine – from the Jordan River to the Mediterranean Sea – and to parts of neighbouring countries as well.  According to United States Ambassador to Israel Mike Huckabee, a fundamentalist Protestant whose geopolitical compass is set by biblical texts from 500 BC, “Greater Israel” stretches from the Nile to the Euphrates. Last summer, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu professed to be “very” attached to a vision of “Greater Israel” that, he said, takes in the Palestinian territories and neighbouring Arab lands.

This absurd and dangerous doctrine has two parents. The first are secular hardliners like Netanyahu who say that Israel must control all the land from the river to the sea to be safe, and damn the eight million Palestinians in the way.

The second is the Jewish supremacist creed of Israeli Finance Minister Bezalel Smotrich and National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir that God gave the land to the Jews alone: There is, in Smotrich’s words, “no such thing as a Palestinian”. Asked recently how Israel should answer its collapsing global standing, Smotrich vowed Israel would not relinquish military control of the West Bank, Gaza, Lebanese or Syrian territory: “We won’t commit suicide to make them happy.”

“Greater Israel” is paranoia, megalomania and religious zeal braided into a single programme. The doctrine should have been repudiated on its first airing decades ago. Instead, it has driven Israel’s foreign and military doctrine for three decades – and has survived until today because Netanyahu has taken the US for a ride.

He has done it with two American constituencies: Jewish Zionists who love Israel and will forgive it anything and Christian Zionists who love the prophecy of the End Times and the Second Coming of Christ more than they love any living Palestinian or, for that matter, any living Israeli.

Delusion has led on to delusion, and the road has run from one war to the next.  We are 30 years into this fiasco now.

The war on Iran was simply the latest “Greater Israel” fantasy. The government of 90 million people was to be toppled in a single, glorious day. Of course, it did not happen. Israeli and American bombs killed Iran’s leaders on February 28, but that did not deliver the promised collapse. It resulted instead in thousands of dead, a choked Strait of Hormuz and a global oil shock.

We have seen this film before. The Israel-US plan to bring down President Bashar al-Assad in Syria was also meant to be quick, one or two years at the most. Instead came a dozen years of carnage, fed by a covert war armed and financed by the CIA with Israel’s ardent backing. The result was an ancient country reduced to rubble. The promised one-day victories always become decade-long graveyards.

US President Donald Trump has been battered by joining the “Greater Israel” delusion, and he knows it. The new agreement with Iran is his escape valve, a way out of a fatuous war that was never his to win.

That is precisely why Israel’s “Greater Israel” politicians are trying to strangle the new agreement in the cradle, for peace with Iran is a defeat for “Greater Israel”. Even after the deal was sealed, Israel has continued to bomb Lebanon, killing 47 people in a single day on Friday and another 32 on Saturday hours after a Lebanon-Israel ceasefire took effect.

Here is the deeper truth: “Greater Israel” is not saving Israel. It is killing it. The friction now visible between Trump and Netanyahu is only the surface. Beneath it lies the collapse of Israel’s standing throughout the world. According to a recent Pew opinion survey, the world now holds an overwhelmingly unfavourable view of Israel. In the US, Israel’s indispensable patron, six in 10 adults view it unfavourably.

A state that makes itself hated by the world, and by its only protector, is not pursuing security. It is threatening its own survival to feed a delusion.

So the way to peace in West Asia is to stop “Greater Israel”. End the war on Iran, stop the genocide in Gaza and halt the strangulation of the West Bank. Most importantly, do the thing the doctrine forbids, which is to create the State of Palestine as the 194th United Nations member state alongside the State of Israel on the 1967 lines with genuine security for both countries and a regional framework to guarantee it, which should include Israel’s withdrawal from Lebanon and Syria.

The Iran ceasefire makes the case in miniature: It was won not on the battlefield but through mediation. It became possible when Washington decided it wanted peace more than it wanted “Greater Israel’s” war.

Israel can survive, but not as “Greater Israel”, a disastrous idea that has marched it and the US from one war to the next.

The glimmer of hope today is real. Whether it becomes a true dawn depends on whether the US finally lets Palestine be born, and thereby lets Israel live. The Arab world and Iran need to keep insisting to the US that breaking with “Greater Israel” is the only path to lasting peace.

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

Analyst Alexandru Hudisteanu warns that Iran’s overuse of Strait of Hormuz as leverage could transform the strategic chokepoint from a deterrence tool into an instrument of extortion, potentially turning the country into an international pariah.

Henry Ensher, a former US ambassador, says the US–Iran agreement is not a final settlement but only the start of a process, with many ways it could still go wrong.

Ross Harrison, a senior fellow at the Middle East Institute, says that Iran’s renewed missile strikes on Israel aim to restore deterrence without reigniting full scale war.

Pro-Palestine activists interrupted an army recruitment event during German Armed Forces Day. They climbed onto a tank and unfurled a banner reading ‘Genocide with German weapons’ and named Rheinmetall, a key arms supplier to Israel’s military.

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In April, I accompanied a friend on a visit to villages in Daikundi province, central Afghanistan. The purpose of the trip was to speak to farmer beneficiaries of a project that an NGO operating in the agriculture sector had carried out and to follow up on its impact. The week I spent travelling with him was quite eye-opening regarding the state of the non-profit sector in the country.

The project in question provided zero-energy storage houses to preserve harvests, such as fruit and vegetables, in rural areas. On the surface, the idea was promising: provide farmers with storage space so they could sell their produce over a few months.

However, the farmers we spoke to in several villages showed us heaps of apples decaying beneath the trees. They complained that the storage houses had space for the apples of only two to three families in the entire village.

In another village, we saw frustration with another project from a different NGO. That organisation had bought imported seeds for various vegetables and distributed them among farmers. Staff members provided training, conducted weeks of workshops on cultivation methods and techniques, and regularly monitored the crops.

The local participants invested significant time, energy, land, and water in the project. But the harvest they got from these imported seeds was very little and of poor quality. Despite the enormous amount of money spent by the NGO on surveying, training, logistics, transportation, and staff salaries, the vegetables for each family amounted to about 450 Afghans (roughly $7). There was no accountability for the farmers’ losses.

Such stories are common across rural communities in Afghanistan. While aid organisations publish reports of their achievements, many beneficiaries gain little from poorly designed projects that fail to address the real challenges they face. The cost of these projects is extremely high, but the output is often too little.

Since the Taliban took over Kabul and the US-led coalition withdrew from the country, humanitarian aid and funding in Afghanistan have dramatically collapsed. The struggle to secure funds, however, has not led to better efficiency, accountability, and transparency among the NGOs still operating in Afghanistan.

This is not a recent phenomenon. Between 2001 and 2021, Afghanistan became the poster child for corruption, embezzlement, and waste of foreign aid. One US journalist described it as “the $148 bn failure”.

According to the Special Inspector General for Afghanistan Reconstruction (SIGAR), set up by the United States to investigate fraud with US funds, between $26bn and $29bn was lost due to embezzlement or wasteful spending. This was just funding provided by the US government; there is no estimate for how much was wasted from other donors.

While much of the foreign funds went to the security sector, a significant amount went to the non-profit sphere, where waste was also widespread. Millions, if not billions, worth of projects became a missed opportunity to improve the lives of Afghans, especially in rural areas. This is a legacy that persists to this day.

This situation is not unique to Afghanistan. The development sector across the world is known for waste and inefficiency. In the Afghan context, that is exacerbated by the lack of control and difficulty of ground work.

Many foreign NGOs do not directly implement their projects; instead, they work through implementing partners (IPs), which themselves outsource implementation to subcontractors. This extended chain of actors means that often there is a lack of proper quality control and supervision, and there is motivation to carry out lower-quality work in order to increase profit.

Furthermore, the primary concern of IPs is securing funding. So they often present project proposals that look great on paper but do not necessarily have a substantial impact on the circumstances of the local population or address their most urgent needs.

Finally, there is a lot of waste in remuneration, especially when it comes to international staff. Foreign employees often have salaries as high as $10,000–20,000 for doing work that a local hire can do for much less.

It is clear that amid global cuts to donor funding, the development sector is struggling. This should be a moment of change. In Afghanistan, where the need of the local population is enormous while available financing is shrinking, NGOs can take this change into their own hands.

The simplest first step NGOs can take is to employ qualified locals to plan and lead projects. They would know the local culture, realities, and actual needs of communities, as well as market prices and field conditions. They can help not only optimise project costs but also ensure that they actually have a real, measurable impact.

In addition, NGOs should avoid having an extended chain of IPs and subcontractors. They should also regularly collect feedback from local communities and field workers directly in order to evaluate project effectiveness during implementation in order to avoid repeating the same mistakes.

Projects are more likely to produce sustainable results if NGOs invest in addressing pressing nationwide challenges, such as unemployment, infrastructure, and market access.

Improving efficiency and effectiveness would not only ensure Afghan beneficiaries get better services and help, but it would also make organisations more competitive for the dwindling pool of funding. This is the only way to salvage the NGO sector not only in Afghanistan but in the rest of the world.

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

Recent arguments advocating for the international recognition of an integral part of Somalia called Somaliland rest on a series of assumptions that deserve closer scrutiny. While proponents portray Somaliland as a unified, stable, and strategically indispensable state deserving immediate recognition, the realities on the ground tell a far more complicated story.

The first and most fundamental misconception is that the former British Somaliland Protectorate exists today as a coherent political entity. It does not.

The territory that briefly gained independence in June 1960 ceased to exist when it voluntarily united with the Trust Territory of Somalia to form the Somali Republic. More importantly, the geographic and political boundaries claimed by today’s Somaliland administration are neither uncontested nor uniformly accepted by the populations living within them.

Over the past two years, the eastern regions of Sool, Sanaag, and parts of Cayn (SSC) have demonstrated precisely this reality. Following prolonged conflict and popular mobilisation, local communities overwhelmingly rejected rule from Hargeisa and established the North Eastern administration, which has since aligned itself with the Federal Government of Somalia. The people of these regions have made clear that they do not share Somaliland’s secessionist project and instead seek their future within a federal Somali state alongside the vast majority of the Somali people. This development alone undermines the central claim that Somaliland represents a unified political community exercising uncontested authority over the territory it claims.

In the west of the Somaliland region, growing political movements in Awdal have increasingly questioned Hargeisa’s perceived monopoly over political and economic decision-making. Calls for a distinct regional administration have gained momentum, reflecting longstanding grievances regarding political representation, economic development, and governance. These dynamics suggest that the future political map of northwestern Somalia is far more fluid than some advocates of recognition acknowledge.

Recognition advocates frequently point to Somaliland’s stability. Yet, stability cannot be measured solely by the existence of institutions or periodic elections. Genuine stability requires political inclusion, territorial legitimacy, and social consensus. None of these conditions currently exists within the Somali territory of Somaliland.

The reality is that the Somaliland secessionist project faces significant internal opposition. Political disagreements, clan-based tensions, territorial disputes, and competing visions of governance remain unresolved. International recognition cannot erase these challenges. Indeed, it risks intensifying them by encouraging zero-sum political calculations among communities that already feel excluded from decision-making processes.

Equally problematic is the argument that Somaliland’s recognition should be driven primarily by geopolitical competition in the Red Sea. The Horn of Africa should not become another arena where local political disputes are transformed into instruments of broader regional rivalries. Moreover, the attempts to frame Somaliland as a strategic asset in competition with Iran, the Houthis, China, or other global actors overlook a basic reality: sustainable security arrangements cannot be built on unresolved sovereignty disputes.

History offers numerous examples of external powers pursuing short-term strategic gains only to discover that local realities ultimately prevail. Durable partnerships emerge from political legitimacy and regional consensus, not from efforts to bypass internationally recognised states.

Recent developments surrounding Israel’s engagement in the region further illustrate this danger. Rather than producing greater cohesion, external involvement has generated new political tensions and heightened anxieties among local communities concerned about militarisation, foreign influence, and the future direction of regional governance.

The disingenuous assumption that foreign recognition of the Somaliland part of Somalia automatically translates into stability is not supported by any evidence. Moreover, recognition of Somaliland would not simply affect Somalia, as it would carry implications far beyond the Horn of Africa.

The African Union has consistently maintained its commitment to preserving inherited borders and resolving disputes through dialogue. This principle has been essential in preventing countless territorial conflicts across the continent. Creating exceptions without a broad regional consensus risks opening debates that many African states have spent decades working to contain.

The path to lasting peace and stability in Somalia, like in most post-conflict states, lies not in fragmentation but in reconciliation, dialogue, and constitutional settlement among Somalis themselves. Significant progress has already been made through federal institutions, expanding political participation, and locally driven governance arrangements. While challenges remain, they are best addressed through inclusive internal political processes rather than externally imposed outcomes in line with international law.

The Somali government remains committed to dialogue, reconciliation, and constitutional processes that allow all Somali communities to participate in shaping the country’s future. Sustainable peace and stability globally and, specifically, in the Horn of Africa at this most challenging time in human history will be achieved not through fragmentation, but inclusive political solutions that strengthen cooperation, legitimacy, and national unity.

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

Suggestions that criticism of the State of Israel is anti-Semitic in Australia risk hardwiring a dangerous confusion. Questioning the behaviour of a foreign state is not the same as denigrating or attacking a people who may have links with that state. The State of Israel is represented by its embassy in Canberra, not by the Jewish community in our cities and suburbs.

But the knee-jerk reaction to the attack on a Jewish celebration in Sydney is solidifying that confusion. On December 14, 2025, as Jewish families gathered near Sydney’s Bondi Beach to celebrate Hanukkah, two gunmen opened fire, killing 15 people and injuring many others in one of the worst attacks in Australia’s history. In response, the federal government set up a Royal Commission on Antisemitism and Social Cohesion, led by former High Court justice Virginia Bell. On April 30, 2026, the commission delivered its interim report, raising serious concerns about how we define anti-Semitism.

The commission has adopted the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance (IHRA) working definition of anti-Semitism. The IHRA offers examples that include criticism of Israel as evidence of anti-Semitism. But such a broad definition collapses critical commentary on Israel’s policy in Gaza, its treatment of Palestinians in the West Bank and Israeli officials’ dehumanising comments about Palestinians into a racist attack on Australia’s Jews. How does that make sense to anyone?

This is not an abstract question. The blurring of these categories acts as a brake on public debate. It narrows the range of permissible language used to describe Israel’s conduct in Gaza, where Australians have watched entire neighbourhoods destroyed and tens of thousands of civilians killed.

The official line from governments in relation to Israel is that Israel has a “right to exist” and an obligation to defend its citizens, which appears to give Israel carte blanche to decimate the entire Gaza Strip and kill tens of thousands of Palestinians. But no other state enjoys this exceptional treatment. No other state can do what it wishes simply because it has a “right to exist”. Australia has that right, but that right has never shielded governments in Canberra from fierce criticism, whether over First Nations dispossession, offshore detention or climate inaction. When Prime Minister Kevin Rudd apologised to the Stolen Generations in 2008 for the wrongs past governments had done to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people, Australia’s legitimacy as a state was not under threat. Rudd was reflecting the public mood by distancing his government from the policies of the past. It was not seen as challenging Australia’s right to exist.

Yet in debates about Israel, the invocation of the “right to exist” and anti-Semitism operates as a conversation stopper. It closes the door to a frank discussion about the State of Israel and its behaviour. We cannot talk about occupation, apartheid and war crimes because that is anti-Semitic. This is a troubling precedent that insulates Israel from moral and political accountability.

The commission was established in response to a real and deeply upsetting surge in anti-Semitic violence. But its framework could cast suspicion on genuine inquiry into the behaviour of Israel. It entrenches a form of exceptionalism that actually weakens Australia’s democratic norms.

A liberal society must be able to draw a clear line: hatred, discrimination or violence against Jews is anti-Semitic and unacceptable; criticism of a foreign government is not.

There is also a cost to Jewish Australians when that line is blurred. Public debate routinely treats “the Jewish community” as a single, pro-Israel bloc, represented by a handful of bodies. This is simply not true. Many Australian Jews are alarmed to see the destruction of Gaza in their name. Some have mobilised against Israel’s actions.

To assume unanimous Jewish support for Israeli actions is to deny Jewish Australians their agency. Worse, it risks casting Jewish dissenters as inauthentic. If the policy settings shaped by this commission casts such voices as anti-Semitic, they will be erased twice over: excluded from the definition of the community and penalised for speakingup. This is silencing dissent, masquerading as protection.

If public institutions reinforce the idea that criticism of Israel is criticism of Jews, they risk feeding anti-Semitism.

Images of Gaza’s destruction on the news have galvanised global public opinion. Many young Australians have marched for an end to Israeli policies and freedom for Palestine. The message that such protests against Israel are anti-Semitic could not be any more counter-productive and harmful for Australian democracy. That will only breed resentment against the Australian political system for ignoring what everyone sees on their TV screens, and, dangerously, feed the very anti-Semitic narratives the commission should be challenging. Those who already hold anti-Semitic views will feel confirmed in their belief that Jews act collectively through Israel. The commission cannot afford to fall into this trap.

To the credit of the Australian Broadcasting Corporation (ABC) and the Special Broadcasting Service (SBS), they have avoided the conflation of Israel and Jewish people and have not adopted the IHRA definition. The interim commission report has not embraced the most heavy-handed proposals in circulation; there is no rush to ban protest slogans or criminalise political expression. There is room for optimism that the commission can still address the issue in its final report.

Here are the standards it needs to uphold to protect social cohesion in Australia:

First, an unambiguous distinction between anti-Semitism and criticism of Israel. Second, a recognition of the diversity of Jewish opinion, including among those who oppose Israel’s actions, and the inclusion of those voices in efforts to combat anti-Semitism. Third, a defence of political space for Palestinians and their allies to describe their experiences of occupation, dispossession and siege in their own terms, while  rejecting any dehumanising or racist language about Jewish people.

Anti-Semitism in Australia is a threat to the Jewish community (regardless of political views) and the very foundation of our social cohesion. But seeking to address the scourge of anti-Semitism by conflating critical views of the State of Israel with hatred of Jews will only make matters worse. Such approach will suppress debate, limit freedom of speech and inquiry that has already led to self-censorship at our universities and entrench the very confusion that sustains anti-Semitism.

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