Opinions

Last week, it was reported that US President Donald Trump placed massive attacks on Iran on hold after a meeting with advisers at the White House. Clearly, domestic political pressure on him and on the Republican Party over rising economic costs is fierce. Current polls suggest nearly 70 percent of Americans oppose the war.

Despite assertions, notably by Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth, that Iran’s military has reached “its lowest point ever”, Iran is still able to conduct massive drone and missile strikes. Some intelligence suggests Iran has reconstituted and increased its capacity to build these weapons.

Meanwhile, the US has moved more aircraft and missile defence units in preparation for what may be a campaign to target staging points for Iranian forces. Two Marine Expeditionary Units (MEUs) and components of the 82nd or 101st Airborne are currently stationed in the region.

Yet, reports that the US and its Gulf allies have exhausted defensive missile magazines, as well as Tomahawk land-attack missiles, may be a powerful constraint.

While Trump appears not to have made a decision yet, he has several options on how to move forward.

The first option is ramping up air and missile strikes. One of the challenges of this strategy is that the list of military targets may have been exhausted. If so, expanding the aerial campaign would mean attacking largely civilian infrastructure, including energy production facilities, electricity and power grids, bridges and roads, and television and phone networks. The likely outcomes are all bad.

Trump would be accused of war crimes. The Iranian public would coalesce in their resentment against the US. Iran’s ability to strike back would not be significantly curbed and it may strike Gulf desalination and energy infrastructure. The result would be a humanitarian catastrophe. No plans exist to deal with this contingency. And of course, oil could soar to $150 or even $200 a barrel, triggering an international economic disaster.

Another option is a ground invasion of some sort. The forces currently deployed in the region are too small to achieve any realistic military objectives. A MEU numbers about 2,500 marines and only 800 of them are infantry, able to conduct very limited ground operations. Airborne units deploy with only a few days worth of bullets, beans and batteries. Resupply is essential for these units.

As retired US Army General Barry McCaffery has pointed out, even 150,000 troops may not be enough to secure control of the Strait of Hormuz along the Iranian coast.

Attacking Kharg Island requires a long and dangerous transit from the western end of the Strait of Hormuz. That would create conditions for a high number of casualties among US troops.

The third option is for Trump to employ a nuclear weapon, at least as a demonstration shot. That would open a catastrophic Pandora’s box of consequences. Trump would be declared a war criminal. Wherever and however the weapon is detonated—an air or surface burst—it would have destructive outcomes.

If exploded exoatmospherically, the nuclear bomb would emit an electromagnetic pulse (EMP) which would destroy virtually all chip-installed systems for hundreds of miles beyond Iran. Few modern militaries, including in the Gulf, are protected from EMP due to costs. A surface burst would form a radioactive cloud that would travel east given the winds and affect populations well beyond Iran.

A major geopolitical consequence would be that such an attack could change the way Russia’s President Vladimir Putin sees the possibility of using nuclear weapons in the war in Ukraine.

Given this list of unpalatable options, the most promising is to claim victory and pursue negotiations. Trump will say he has brought Iran to the negotiating table even though talks between Washington and Tehran have not stopped despite the escalation. The first issue would be reopening the Strait of Hormuz and Bab al-Mandeb. Oil prices would drop. Stock markets would rebound.

Trump would take the credit. And a devastating war and economic crisis would be sensibly avoided. This is his best and only sensible option.

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

The world claims to regard education as a universal right. Its financial system tells a different story.

⁠New figures released by UNESCO show that 113 countries with a total population of 6.1 billion now spend more on servicing debt than educating their people. In low-income countries, debt payments are nearly four times education expenditure. In 18 of the most heavily indebted countries, governments spend at least five times more on debt than on education.

These are not merely signs of strained public finances. They reveal a stark political hierarchy.

Creditors possess enforceable claims on government revenues. Children possess declarations, development goals and promises. When the two collide, creditors are paid first.

The consequences are visible in overcrowded classrooms, deteriorating school buildings, teacher shortages, unaffordable school fees and children leaving education prematurely. Yet these outcomes are generally described as funding gaps or failures of domestic governance, as though governments had freely decided to neglect their schools.

In reality, many governments are operating inside an international financial order that sharply restricts what they can choose.

The ⁠World Bank reports that developing countries transferred $741bn more to external creditors in principal and interest between 2022 and 2024 than they received in new financing. This was the largest net debt outflow in at least 50 years. In 2024 alone, low and middle-income countries paid a record $415bn in interest.

In other words, the financial flows are frequently moving in the opposite direction from the one suggested by the language of development assistance.

Poorer countries are commonly portrayed as beneficiaries of Western generosity. But vast amounts of public wealth are travelling from debtor countries to bondholders, commercial banks, multilateral institutions and wealthier creditor governments.

Money that could hire teachers, provide school meals or build classrooms is instead leaving the country.

This is particularly perverse because education is not simply another item of government consumption. It is an investment in a society’s future capacities. Cutting it may make debt payments easier today, but it will weaken productivity, public revenues and social resilience tomorrow.

Debt contracts are treated as binding obligations whose breach can trigger credit downgrades, capital flight, lawsuits and exclusion from financial markets. The right to education, by contrast, carries no comparable machinery of enforcement.

No ratings agency downgrades creditors when a country cannot afford enough teachers. No financial penalty is imposed on bondholders when debt service forces children out of school. Markets do not panic when classrooms collapse.

The system disciplines governments for failing creditors, not for failing children.

UNESCO has proposed expanding debt-for-education swaps. Under these arrangements, a creditor cancels or restructures part of a country’s debt in exchange for government investment in agreed educational programmes.

Such initiatives can produce tangible gains. A 2023 agreement with France helped Ivory Coast finance more than 30 schools in underserved areas. A German agreement with Egypt supported school feeding and basic services, while an earlier Spain-Peru programme funded education projects across vulnerable regions.

These programmes are worthwhile. But they are not a solution to the larger debt crisis.

Debt swaps typically cover only a small fraction of what countries owe. They are negotiated selectively, depend on creditor consent and may add new layers of external monitoring to domestic spending. Most importantly, they leave untouched the principle that creditors are entitled to repayment unless they voluntarily concede otherwise.

The question becomes how to persuade creditors to permit a little more education, rather than why the claims of creditors should take priority in the first place.

That question is especially urgent because education aid is also falling. UNESCO projects that international assistance for education could decline by as much as 30 percent between 2023 and 2027.

Debtor countries are therefore being squeezed from both sides: aid is retreating while debt payments continue.

The familiar recommendation that developing countries should mobilise more domestic resources is inadequate. Progressive taxation and reduced corruption matter. But additional revenues will not transform education systems if they are immediately diverted towards debts contracted at high interest rates, or made more expensive by currency depreciation.

Nor can the problem be solved by demanding ever more austerity. Education budgets consist largely of recurring expenditure, especially teachers’ salaries. When governments are instructed to freeze public-sector wage bills, they cannot solve teacher shortages or expand access, however often international institutions proclaim education a priority.

A more serious response would begin with large-scale debt cancellation for countries in distress, automatic suspension of payments during economic and climate emergencies, far cheaper concessional financing and a fair multilateral mechanism for restructuring sovereign debt.

At present, debt negotiations are fragmented among private creditors, bilateral lenders and international institutions. Debtor governments must bargain with powerful financial actors while trying to avoid being punished for seeking relief.

A binding United Nations framework for sovereign debt could establish shared rules, require both borrowers and lenders to act responsibly and prevent holdout creditors from obstructing restructuring. It could also make social rights central to assessments of what a country can genuinely afford to repay.

The world needs to move towards the idea that debt repayment cannot come at any human cost. A debt is not sustainable when paying it requires dismantling the institutions on which a society’s future depends.

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

The Houthi declaration that they intend to block Saudi shipping and vessels bound for Saudi ports in the Red Sea is not another act of revolutionary theatre. It is Iran’s latest attempt to test Saudi Arabia’s strategic patience through one of its most capable regional proxies. That is a dangerous gamble because Riyadh has spent nearly a decade avoiding the wider regional war that Tehran increasingly appears determined to provoke.

Saudi restraint has never reflected military weakness. It has been a deliberate strategic choice intended to preserve regional stability while enabling the kingdom to focus on its historic economic transformation. Unable to compete with Saudi Arabia’s regional trajectory through conventional means, Iran has increasingly turned to proxy warfare, maritime coercion, and economic intimidation.

The Houthis have become the principal instrument of that strategy.

By threatening shipping in both the Strait of Hormuz and Bab al-Mandeb, Tehran seeks to pressure Saudi Arabia from its eastern and western maritime gateways while raising the cost of regional stability. The objective is not military victory but economic disruption: undermining investor confidence, threatening energy exports, and projecting instability onto the Middle East’s largest economy.

That strategy carries consequences far beyond the region. Saudi Arabia remains the world’s largest crude oil exporter, OPEC’s leading producer, and the only country with sufficient spare production capacity to stabilise global energy markets during periods of crisis – as it did during the first phase of the Iran war through its 7 million barrels per day East West Pipeline. Sustained disruption of Saudi exports would ripple through international shipping, insurance markets, inflation, and the global economy.

Iran tried to prepare for the present escalation by attempting to restore the Tehran-Sana’a air bridge. The flights were never simply about reconnecting two capitals. They would have provided a direct logistical corridor through which operational planning advisers, missile specialists, drone technicians, and intelligence officers could rotate into Houthi-controlled territory. Such an air corridor would have allowed Tehran to transfer not only equipment but also operational expertise and command capability.

This explains why the Royal Saudi Air Force (RSAF) strike on Sana’a International Airport carried significance beyond denying a specific aircraft permission to land. The objective was to prevent Iran from establishing a permanent logistical architecture capable of sustaining a more sophisticated proxy campaign against Saudi Arabia’s maritime and economic interests.

It is clear Tehran’s calculations increasingly rely on outdated assumptions about Saudi military capability. The Saudi-led Joint Forces Command (JFC) bears little resemblance to the force that first entered Yemen a decade ago. Years of hard learnt lessons from past mistakes and operational experience have transformed it into an integrated coalition built around persistent intelligence, fused command-and-control, precision strikes, air missile defence, and cyber operations.

Rather than functioning as separate military combatant commands, these capabilities now operate as a single decision-making architecture capable of compressing the time between intelligence collection and operational execution.

That transformation extends beyond the Saudi armed forces alone. The Saudi-led JFC now includes more than 650,000 personnel drawn from Saudi Arabia and allied Yemeni, Pakistani, Sudanese, and limited but symbolic GCC formations operating within a unified operational framework. Its principal advantage lies not simply in numbers but in its ability to synchronise military effects across multiple domains while maintaining operational tempo and centralised escalation control.

The JFC maturity became unmistakable during RSAF’s campaign that restored control over southern Yemen in less than a week in January. Built upon an advanced command and control (C2) fused architecture that supports persistent intelligence, electronic warfare, precision targeting, and synchronised manoeuvre, has demonstrated a level of operational sequencing and command integration unseen in earlier phases of the war.

The same C2 maturity was evident during Iran’s coordinated missile and drone attacks launched from Iranian territory and allied formations in Iraq, when RSAF executed synchronised precision strikes across multiple theatres while maintaining centralised escalation control.

The broader consequences extended beyond the battlefield. Saudi operational performance helped create the conditions under which Pakistan was able to broker an unofficial ceasefire between the Saudis and Iranians while reinforcing a new deterrence equation in which further direct Iranian military pressure carried significantly greater operational and political risk. Tehran’s subsequent caution reflected not diplomacy alone but recognition that the kingdom had entered a fundamentally different stage of military maturity.

None of this means the Houthis cannot impose costs. Their missiles, drones, maritime attacks, and psychological operations remain capable of generating disruption disproportionate to their size. But disruption is fundamentally different from sustaining a prolonged confrontation against an opponent possessing overwhelming advantages in intelligence, air power, maritime control, and operational endurance.

Every escalation therefore increases the likelihood of a comprehensive Saudi response. Such a campaign would not simply target missile launchers or drone facilities. It would seek to dismantle the command-and-control networks, logistics infrastructure, communications systems, intelligence apparatus, and operational support that enable Houthi military operations.

This is why the current trajectory is so dangerous.

Saudi Arabia has consistently demonstrated that it prefers stability to confrontation because its overriding strategic priority remains economic transformation and long-term national development. But no state can indefinitely tolerate an Iranian-backed proxy threatening its economy, energy infrastructure, and maritime lifelines.

Ultimately, the Houthis are not testing Saudi military capability. Years of operational adaptation have already answered that question. They are testing Saudi Arabia’s strategic patience.

History suggests that even the greatest strategic patience has limits. If Tehran continues using the Houthis as an instrument of coercion against the kingdom, Riyadh may conclude that the costs of restraint have exceeded the costs of decisive action. If that moment arrives, the campaign that follows will bear little resemblance to the Yemen war of a decade ago. It will reflect years of coalition integration through an elaborate C6ISR architecture to be strategically prepared for such a war. Iran, and the Houthis, may then regret testing the limits of Saudi Arabia’s strategic patience.

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

Last night, Spain defeated Argentina to win the World Cup. Ordinarily, for those of us with no national connection to either country, the choice of whom to support would have been gloriously trivial. We might have chosen the team that played more beautiful football, the player we most admired or simply the side whose colours we preferred.

But these are no ordinary times.

Gaza and Palestine have changed the way many of us see the world. It has become a moral prism, refracting our judgments not only about governments and political leaders, but about institutions, universities, media, corporations and public figures. We have watched people and institutions we once respected avert their eyes from the destruction of a people. We have watched others discover elaborate vocabularies of qualification and equivocation when confronted with horrors that, in another place and against another people, they would have condemned without hesitation.

And we have remembered those who refused to look away.

That is why, last night, I was Spanish.

Of course, a football team is not a government. Spanish footballers are not responsible for the policies of Spanish Prime Minister Pedro Sánchez, any more than Lionel Messi and his teammates are responsible for the politics of Argentinian President Javier Milei.

But sport has never existed in the hermetically sealed apolitical world we sometimes pretend it inhabits. We bring ourselves to sport. We bring our histories, our identities, our sympathies and, inevitably, our moral judgements. We decide whom we want to win for reasons that often have very little to do with formations and statistics.

And so, for many people of conscience, Spain has come to represent something larger.

At a moment when much of the Western political establishment has twisted itself into moral and linguistic contortions over Gaza, Spain has stood apart. Sánchez and his government have been willing to speak with a clarity conspicuously absent from many of Spain’s Western allies. Spain recognised the State of Palestine. Sánchez has openly used the word genocide to describe what is being done in Gaza. His government has moved to entrench an arms embargo against Israel.

One need not agree with every policy of the Spanish government to recognise the significance of that position. Moral courage is measured precisely when taking a position carries a cost.

There was also something deeply moving about seeing Lamine Yamal, one of the brightest young stars in world football, waving the Palestinian flag during Barcelona’s celebrations after winning La Liga.

It was a small gesture in the vast landscape of Palestinian suffering. But symbols matter, particularly when so many powerful institutions have worked so hard to make Palestine invisible.

There was Yamal, at the summit of sporting success, surrounded by celebration, holding up the flag of a people whose suffering the world has been asked repeatedly to forget. And last night he wore the colours of Spain in a World Cup final and emerged a world champion.

On the other side stood Argentina, a magnificent footballing nation led by perhaps the greatest footballer of his generation. And here, too, Gaza intruded upon the emotions with which some of us watched. An image of Lionel Messi at the Western Wall in occupied East Jerusalem has circulated widely. It dates back to Barcelona’s 2013 visit to Israel and the Occupied Palestinian Territory, years before the present catastrophe. But images have lives beyond the circumstances in which they were created, and Gaza has transformed the way many of us see them.

The contrast with Lamine Yamal is striking. There is the image of Messi at the Western Wall. And there is the image of Yamal, at one of the happiest moments of his young career, waving the Palestinian flag. Different moments, different circumstances, different intentions.

But symbols matter. For those whose view of the world has been transformed by Gaza, it is impossible not to feel the emotional force of the contrast.

And beyond Messi stands the politics of Javier Milei. Argentina’s president has made his allegiances clear. He has embraced US President Donald Trump and declared himself “the most Zionist president in the world” at precisely the historical moment when Palestinians in Gaza have endured unimaginable destruction.

Argentina’s footballers are not responsible for Milei, and its people cannot be reduced to their president. But neither can those politics be entirely erased from the emotions with which the rest of us watch.

Then there was another recent vote, far removed from Gaza but revealing in its own way. In March, the United Nations General Assembly adopted a landmark resolution confronting the historical wrongs of the transatlantic trafficking and enslavement of Africans and calling for reparatory justice. One hundred and twenty-three countries voted in favour. Fifty-two abstained. Only three countries in the entire world voted against it: the United States, Israel and Argentina.

There is something extraordinary about that alignment. On an issue concerning one of humanity’s greatest historical crimes and the continuing demand for reparatory justice, Trump’s America, Benjamin Netanyahu’s Israel and Milei’s Argentina found themselves standing together, virtually alone.

It is difficult for those of us who increasingly view the world through the prism of Gaza not to notice the pattern. The issues are different, the histories are different and the legal questions are different. But the moral instinct seems eerily familiar: when the victims of historical injustice demand recognition, accountability and redress, the same governments so often seem to find reasons to stand on the other side.

So, yes, last night I watched a football match.

I admired Messi because greatness remains greatness. I marvelled at the extraordinary history of Argentine football.

But I wanted Spain to win.

And Spain won.

Perhaps that says something about what Gaza has done to us. It has rearranged our moral geography. Countries that once felt distant can suddenly feel close because they spoke when others were silent. Governments we barely thought about can earn our respect because, at a moment of profound moral testing, they refused to avert their gaze.

And sometimes that moral geography spills into the most unexpected places.

Last night it spilled onto a football pitch.

Millions celebrated Spain’s victory because they love Spanish football, because they admire Lamine Yamal or simply because their team had won the greatest prize in the sport.

But many also celebrated out of solidarity with the Palestinian people.

A World Cup cannot deliver justice to Palestine. Spain’s victory will not feed a hungry child in Gaza, rebuild a destroyed home or bring back the dead. We should never confuse symbolism with justice.

But human beings live partly through symbols. And last night, for some of us, the red shirt of Spain carried a meaning it was never designed to bear.

When Lamine Yamal and his teammates lifted the World Cup, I celebrated with them.

Not because football can change what has happened in Gaza.

But because Gaza has changed the way I watch even a game of football.

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

On Tuesday, the Chairman of the Knesset’s Education Committee, Zvi Sukkot of the far-right Religious Zionist Party, arrived at a Palestinian school in East Jerusalem for a “surprise visit” – his second in two weeks. He did not come to evaluate pedagogy or classroom conditions or needs. Instead, he smashed the school’s entrance sign because it featured a Palestinian flag and publicly pledged to shut it down.

This storming of the school was more than just a publicity stunt meant to appeal to his political base ahead of Israel’s October 2026 elections. It was the physical embodiment of a sweeping state campaign targeting Palestinian education in unlawfully occupied and annexed East Jerusalem.

Sukkot is using his position to physically police Palestinian schools. This move comes on top of the Knesset’s aggressive legislative campaign to destroy Palestinian education in East Jerusalem that lawmakers have pushed in recent years.

One such law, passed in January 2026, bars graduates of Palestinian universities in the West Bank from working as teachers in Israel and in East Jerusalem. This law is based on racist ideology and extremist claims that graduates of these universities are inherently dangerous and morally unfit to be educators.

The motives of the law’s proponents were made clear during Knesset deliberations: advancing what several MKs called the “Israelisation” of the educational system and of the students, even at the expense of access to education. In a May 2025 Education Committee session, one Likud MK claimed that this law is needed as teachers who graduate from Palestinian universities “do not cultivate Israelisation” among their students.

The law passed despite the devastating consequences it is bound to have on the already fragile and disadvantaged Palestinian education system in East Jerusalem. This system is largely dependent on graduates of West Bank universities – who are overwhelmingly women – and it already has a serious shortage of teaching staff and classrooms.

Another law, passed in November 2024, which is widely referred to as the “Silencing Law”, gives the Israeli Ministry of Education full discretion to suspend or dismiss teachers through a fast-track administrative process. It targets speech the ministry deems to be “incitement to terrorism”, based on the ambiguous and arbitrary clauses of the Israeli Counter-Terrorism Law, which has become a catch-all mechanism to criminalise Palestinian speech.

The 2024 law also gives the ministry the right to revoke funding from schools on these same grounds, potentially leading to their closure.

Here too, the Knesset Committee’s deliberations on this law revealed an explicit targeting of the Palestinian education system in East Jerusalem and lawmakers’ views that this system is a security threat that must be dealt with. As a Likud MK said during an early 2024 Education Committee discussion on this proposed legislation: “It’s very important that they become Zionists… If I was an Arab from East Jerusalem, the first thing I would be is a Zionist. Above all”.

MK Sukkot’s pledge to shut down the school he attacked is not an idle threat. It follows the closure of six schools in East Jerusalem and its outskirts in 2025, which left 800 Palestinian children suddenly without access to formal education. These closures were the immediate result of the 2024 and 2025 anti-UNRWA laws passed by the Knesset.

The legislation and MK Sukkot’s physical vandalism of a Palestinian school demonstrate the state’s efforts to impose “Israelisation” on young Palestinian students living under occupation, and to erase any trace of Palestinian education and identity, even at the cost of trampling on every legitimate pedagogical need along the way.

Adalah – The Legal Center for Arab Minority Rights in Israel – is currently challenging all of these laws before the Israeli Supreme Court, with pending petitions against the ban on Palestinian university graduates, the “Silencing Law” targeting teachers’ political expression, and the anti-UNRWA laws.

We will continue to do all that we can to legally resist the campaign against Palestinian education. But the state’s assault on Palestinian schools will not stop until there is genuine international pressure on the Israeli government to stop its violations of nearly all the human rights of the occupied Palestinian population in East Jerusalem, including the right to education and the right to dignity.

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

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.