Trump’s Belligerence Toward Venezuela

US Representative Ro Khanna has called for urgent congressional action to prevent “another endless, regime-change war,” following reports that President Donald Trump is considering military strikes against Venezuela. Khanna warned such actions would be “blatantly unconstitutional,” emphasizing that no president has the authority to launch attacks without Congress’ approval.

Reports from the Miami Herald claimed the Trump administration has decided to strike Venezuelan military installations, while the Wall Street Journal reported that potential targets—mainly military facilities allegedly used for drug smuggling—have been identified, though Trump has not made a final decision. According to unnamed officials, the goal of these strikes would be to pressure Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro to step down.

While the White House denies any finalized plans, Trump said aboard Air Force One that he believes he has the authority to act without congressional approval. Last week, he suggested land strikes could follow recent unauthorized and deadly attacks on boats in waters near Central and South America.

Despite growing concerns about a possible unauthorized military escalation, only a handful of lawmakers have voiced strong opposition. Senators Tim Kaine, Rand Paul, and Adam Schiff have backed a resolution to block Trump from launching strikes without congressional authorization. Other lawmakers, including Bernie Sanders and Ruben Gallego, have condemned Trump’s aggressive posture.

Sanders argued Trump is “illegally threatening war with Venezuela,” stressing that only Congress has the constitutional power to declare war. Public opposition is also evident; Dylan Williams from the Center for International Policy noted that most Americans oppose forcibly overthrowing Venezuela’s government.

Williams urged citizens to contact their senators and support S.J.Res.90, a resolution to block unauthorized military action. In the House, a similar resolution led by Rep. Jason Crow has gained over 30 cosponsors. Representative Joe Neguse, who supports the measure, said Trump “does not have the legal authority to launch military strikes inside Venezuela without specific authorization by Congress,” calling any unilateral action reckless and unconstitutional.

Neguse added that the American public does not want another endless war and that constitutional norms require congressional deliberation—period.

Why Pak-Afghan Conflict Remains Unresolved?

The conflict between Pakistan and Afghanistan remains unresolved because it is rooted in a mix of historical disputes, mutual mistrust, and competing security interests that have persisted for decades. Despite cultural, religious, and economic linkages, both nations continue to view each other with suspicion rather than cooperation.

At the heart of the problem lies the Durand Line, drawn by the British in 1893 and inherited by Pakistan after independence. Afghanistan has never formally recognized it as an international border, claiming it divides the Pashtun population. Pakistan, however, considers the frontier legally settled. This disagreement has become a symbol of deeper political and ethnic tensions.

The Pashtun question adds another layer of complexity. The tribes on both sides share linguistic and familial ties, but political narratives have often turned these affinities into instruments of rivalry. Pakistan fears Afghan nationalism could spill over its borders, while Kabul perceives Pakistan’s involvement as interference in its internal affairs.

Security concerns have long overshadowed diplomacy. Since the Soviet invasion of 1979, Pakistan has played a key role in Afghan affairs, hosting millions of refugees and supporting various political factions. Yet, both sides accuse each other of harboring hostile groups — Pakistan blames Afghanistan for sheltering the Tehreek-e-Taliban Pakistan (TTP), while Kabul accuses Islamabad of backing insurgents. This cycle of allegations has eroded trust.

The Taliban’s return to power in 2021 initially raised hopes for stability, but their refusal to recognize the Durand Line and restrain TTP activities has renewed friction. Meanwhile, regional players — including India, Iran, China, and the United States — continue to shape dynamics that complicate bilateral understanding.

For lasting peace, both countries must shift from blame to dialogue, strengthen border management, and build economic interdependence through trade and connectivity. The Pak-Afghan relationship should not remain hostage to history; instead, it should evolve into a partnership anchored in mutual respect and regional stability.

Only through sustained diplomacy, trust-building, and shared development goals can Pakistan and Afghanistan transform a troubled past into a cooperative future.

 

 

Billionaires vs. Mamdani: Democracy for Sale

The billionaire class is spending millions to block Zohran Mamdani’s rise — not because he threatens New York City’s stability, but because he threatens their supremacy. Mamdani’s agenda of taxing the ultra-rich to fund housing, public transit, and child care strikes at the heart of a system that lets the few profit while the many struggle. His opponents — hedge-fund moguls, property tycoons, and Wall Street donors — are pouring unprecedented sums into super PACs to drown out a movement built on ordinary citizens.

This isn’t about protecting the economy; it’s about protecting privilege. The same billionaires who hoard wealth offshore suddenly claim to care about fiscal discipline. Their fear is ideological — that Mamdani’s victory will prove that grassroots politics can defeat corporate cash. They see democracy not as a marketplace of ideas, but as an asset they can buy, trade, and hedge against.

By weaponizing money to silence dissenting voices, they expose the fragility of American democracy. A candidate advocating fairness is branded a threat, while those funding inequality are hailed as “defenders of growth.” The irony is suffocating.

Mamdani’s campaign is more than a local contest — it’s a referendum on whether voters or billionaires rule America. Every dollar spent against him is a vote against equality, against the idea that power should serve the people, not purchase them. If billionaires succeed in crushing his candidacy, it will not be a victory for democracy — it will be its price tag.

Asia Pacific leaders meeting in South Korea

Leaders from 21 Pacific Rim economies will gather this week in Gyeongju, South Korea, for the Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation, or APEC, forum.

Meetings have begun on Monday and will run through Saturday. Talks are expected to be overshadowed by US President Donald Trump's sweeping global tariffs and high-stakes trade standoffs with China and other nations.

Trump will arrive on Wednesday but is scheduled to depart before the APEC leaders' summit itself. He is expected to see Chinese President Xi Jinping for their first in-person meeting of Trump's second term, as the two countries seek to dial down trade tensions.

The following are facts about the APEC meeting:

APEC, which was founded in 1989, has 21 members that represent more than 50% of global GDP and are home to some 2.7 billion people, or 40% of the world's population. China, Russia and the United States are three of the group's largest members. The APEC region generated 70% of the world's economic growth during its first 10 years of existence.

Leaders of the countries meet annually. The last gathering was in November 2024 in Peru, dominated by worries over the incoming Trump administration's vows to enact tariffs and reverse course on issues like climate change.

The economic club aims to encourage cooperation and reduce trade and investment barriers, though decisions made at meetings are non-binding and consensus has been increasingly difficult. South Korea says it wants to use this year's forum to discuss supply chains, the World Trade Organization's role in fostering a free and fair-trade environment, as well as advancing the Free Trade Area of the Asia-Pacific, an agreement designed to eventually include all APEC members.

The agenda also includes topics like adapting to digital change, harnessing artificial intelligence, sustainable energy, food supplies, responding to demographic shifts and increasing opportunities for women and people with disabilities.

South Korea is hosting Trump and Xi for state visits and it is hoping to make progress on a trade deal with the US President, Lee Jae Myung has suggested Trump use the visit to engage with North Korean leader Kim Jong Un, but it is unclear whether a meeting will happen.

Have All Abandoned Hamas?

The question of whether Hamas has been completely abandoned by its allies deserves a nuanced answer. While the militant-political organization is under unprecedented isolation and financial strain, it has not been left entirely friendless. What has changed is not the existence of support, but the depth and nature of it. The few remaining backers are more pragmatic and cautious than ideological.

Iran remains the most steadfast supporter of Hamas, but even Tehran’s approach has shifted from enthusiasm to calculation. The Islamic Republic continues to provide limited training, intelligence, and weapons through its network that includes Hezbollah and the IRGC. Yet, Hamas no longer occupies the central role it once did in Iran’s “Axis of Resistance.” Tehran’s strategic priority today is containing Israel through Hezbollah in Lebanon and maintaining deterrence in Syria and Iraq. In that equation, Hamas has become an auxiliary, not a frontline force.

Qatar, long seen as Hamas’s financial lifeline, has also recalibrated its policy. The unmonitored cash deliveries to Gaza that sustained Hamas’s governance structure are now being rerouted through the United Nations and humanitarian agencies. Doha seeks to retain its role as a mediator rather than an outright patron. That shift leaves Hamas with a smaller and more conditional stream of funds — insufficient to maintain administrative control in a war-torn enclave.

Turkey’s support, meanwhile, has settled into the realm of rhetoric. President Erdoğan continues to speak forcefully for Palestinian rights, but Ankara avoids concrete steps that could jeopardize its economic and diplomatic relations with the West. Turkey’s relationship with Hamas has become largely symbolic — a political shield rather than a material one.

Across the Arab world, the mood has changed dramatically. Egypt views Hamas as a destabilizing factor on its Sinai frontier; Jordan and the Gulf monarchies see it as a residue of the Muslim Brotherhood; and Saudi Arabia, pursuing strategic normalization with Israel, has little appetite for association. The UAE, a key Arab power, treats Hamas as a security threat rather than a liberation movement. This new regional consensus marks a profound isolation for the group.

Yet, Hamas is not entirely defeated. It continues to command thousands of fighters, retains limited weapons stockpiles, and still projects control over parts of Gaza. More importantly, popular sympathy for the Palestinian cause across the Muslim world remains deeply rooted. But sympathy does not translate into resources. Without substantial state sponsorship, Hamas is now sustained mainly by resilience, underground networks, and a sense of defiance rather than structured external support.

In essence, Hamas stands at a crossroads. Its godfathers have not fully abandoned it, but their backing has turned conditional and cautious. The movement survives, but in a diminished, more isolated form — powerful enough to persist, yet too constrained to dominate. The age of ideological patronage is ending; what remains is a movement fighting for relevance amid the ruins it once ruled.

 

US War on Drugs or Control of Trade?

The United States has long waged wars with shifting names — “War on Terror,” “War on Drugs,” “War for Freedom.” Yet, behind every noble slogan lies a trail of power politics. The latest episode — dispatching an aircraft carrier to intercept drug boats — sounds more like a geopolitical maneuver than a humanitarian mission.

The US has once again deployed an aircraft carrier — not to confront a rival navy, but to chase down drug smugglers. The declared mission is to curb narcotics trafficking, yet the use of such massive military hardware for a policing task invites skepticism. Why send a carrier strike group — costing billions — to do what coast guards and drug enforcement units are meant to handle?

When Washington turns a military operation into a “war on drugs,” it often signals a wider agenda. The US Navy’s global reach conveniently allows it to assert presence in any region — from the Caribbean to the Pacific — under the noble banner of counter-narcotics. What appears to be law enforcement frequently doubles as strategic positioning. In a world where power projection is wrapped in moral language, fighting drug traffickers becomes a useful excuse for extending surveillance and influence.

There’s also a darker interpretation that refuses to fade. Could these “anti-drug” operations actually be a cover for controlling the lucrative narcotics trade itself? History does not absolve Washington. The Iran-Contra affair and recurring allegations of CIA-linked drug networks in Central America showed how the lines between enforcement and exploitation can blur. When tons of seized drugs disappear from transparency and accountability, suspicion fills the vacuum.

The global drug economy, valued at over half a trillion dollars annually, offers enormous leverage to whoever controls its routes and flows. By interdicting shipments, deciding which networks survive, and which are dismantled, the US effectively regulates the trade — if not overtly, then subtly.

The aircraft carrier, in this context, is not just chasing smugglers — it is asserting dominance. Washington’s “war on drugs” has become a convenient façade for strategic reach. After all, in America’s global playbook, every mission — even one draped in moral intent — is ultimately about control. In this war, purity may just be another commodity.

 

Trump’s Tariffs: Open Defiance of WTO Rules

“The WTO’s silence in the face of US defiance marks the slow death of multilateralism.”

When power tramples principle, the rulebook becomes meaningless. The United States, once the architect of global trade discipline, now stands as its most brazen violator. President Trump’s tariff crusade has reduced the WTO’s founding ideals to diplomatic theatre.

When the World Trade Organization (WTO) was created, it was supposed to end the era of arbitrary trade wars. Countries pledged to respect the Most-Favored-Nation principle — no discrimination, no selective punishment. Yet today, that rulebook lies in tatters, largely because the United States, the self-proclaimed guardian of free trade, has chosen to ignore it.

President Donald Trump’s latest wave of tariffs on steel, aluminum, and Chinese imports is nothing short of a declaration of defiance. Cloaked in the language of “national security,” these measures are neither lawful nor justified under WTO norms. These are pure economic bullying — a tactic to reassert American dominance under the guise of protecting domestic jobs.

Let’s be clear, the WTO’s Article XXI, which allows exceptions for national security, was never meant to give license for economic intimidation. Trump’s use of it is a cynical distortion, designed not to protect US borders but to weaponize trade policy. It exposes the hypocrisy of Washington preaching free markets abroad while practicing protectionism at home.

WTO panels have already ruled against such tariffs, but the US has paralyzed the system by blocking the appointment of judges to the Appellate Body — effectively ensuring no verdict can ever be enforced. This deliberate sabotage turns the WTO into a toothless watchdog, helpless against the very member it was meant to discipline.

The tragedy is not merely in Washington’s defiance but in the world’s silence. Each unjustified tariff erodes another layer of global trust, while the WTO watches from the sidelines, stripped of authority. If the international community fails to challenge US economic unilateralism now, the collapse of the multilateral trading order will not be a distant fear — it will be a fait accompli.

 

Fighting Without Fighting: Super Powers Wage War by Other Means

Wars are no longer fought only on battlefields. The twenty-first century has transformed the nature of conflict: the weapons are now economic sanctions, cyberattacks, and proxy alliances, while the targets are national economies and public perceptions. The art of modern warfare lies not in destroying armies but in destabilizing societies. This is the new face of power — fighting without fighting.

During the Cold War, the United States and the Soviet Union perfected the strategy of indirect confrontation. They waged proxy wars in Korea, Vietnam, and Afghanistan, where others fought on their behalf. That same philosophy now defines global politics once again. Today’s superpowers — primarily the United States, China, and Russia — prefer to engage through economic blockades, digital espionage, and information manipulation rather than direct military confrontation. The logic is simple, global integration makes total war too costly to win and too dangerous to survive.

Economic warfare has become the preferred tool. The United States uses financial sanctions and trade restrictions as strategic weapons. Russia, in turn, employs energy supplies as instruments of coercion. China manipulates market access and technology exports to shape global alignments. In this arena, a single executive order or export ban can inflict more damage than a missile strike. The global financial system has become a silent battlefield, where currencies, commodities, and credit replace tanks and artillery.

Cyber warfare adds another invisible dimension. State-backed hackers can paralyze banking systems, shut down power grids, or steal sensitive data — all without firing a shot.

The 2022–24 conflict in Ukraine, for instance, has shown how digital attacks and disinformation can amplify physical wars. The battlefield now includes social media platforms and data networks, where narratives are manufactured and public opinion is weaponized.

Meanwhile, proxy conflicts continue to shape regional politics — in the Middle East, Africa, and Eastern Europe. These low-intensity wars allow great powers to test new technologies, weaken rivals, and expand influence without bearing the political cost of direct involvement. The blood is local, but the strategy is global.

The danger is that “war without war” is harder to detect and even harder to end. Economic sanctions, once imposed, linger for years; cyber weapons, once unleashed, spread uncontrollably. The absence of visible warfare creates a dangerous illusion of peace while societies quietly erode from within.

In this new world order, victory is no longer measured by territory captured but by systems disrupted, economies weakened, and narratives controlled. The future of conflict will not be marked by explosions but by silence — the silence of power grids failing, economies collapsing, and truths being rewritten.

The War That Will Never Be Fought — But Never End

The United States and the Soviet Union never fought a direct war, and their modern successors — Washington and Moscow — are unlikely ever to do so. Both possess nuclear arsenals capable of ending human civilization within hours, a reality that forces restraint even in the fiercest confrontations. Yet, the absence of direct warfare does not mean peace. From Korea to Ukraine, the two powers have fought shadow wars through proxies, sanctions, and propaganda — proving that while a nuclear world discourages combat, it encourages competition without limits.

The Cold War, which dominated the second half of the twentieth century, was essentially a struggle for global dominance without direct confrontation. The US and USSR armed their allies, financed revolutions, and competed for ideological influence from Asia to Latin America. Conflicts such as Korea, Vietnam, and Afghanistan became testing grounds for superpower ambitions. Each side bled indirectly, ensuring that nuclear deterrence remained intact while smaller nations paid the human cost.

When the Soviet Union collapsed in 1991, many believed the Cold War had ended for good. But three decades later, the same strategic rivalry re-emerged — this time between the US and Russia. The Ukraine war has become the modern version of a Cold War battlefield. The US supplies advanced weapons, intelligence, and economic support to Kyiv, while Russia frames the conflict as a defensive war against NATO encirclement. Both powers fight fiercely, but indirectly, ensuring no direct clash between American and Russian troops.

The logic remains the same - nuclear deterrence equals survival. Direct war would mean destruction for both, leaving only proxy wars, cyber battles, and economic coercion as tools of power. Each side tests the other’s limits without crossing the line of mutual annihilation. The contest has moved from ideology to influence — from red flags and capitalism to control over energy routes, technology, and global alliances.

Even hawkish voices in Washington calling for tougher action against Moscow know the line that cannot be crossed. Sanctions may strangle economies; drones and missiles may change the battlefield; but a direct strike remains unthinkable. Moscow, too, understands this calculus. The nuclear shadow keeps both in check — unwilling to yield, yet unable to attack.

In truth, the Cold War never died; it simply evolved. The battlegrounds have changed, but the mindset remains: weaken the rival, avoid direct war, and dominate the narrative. Proxy adventurism — from Eastern Europe to cyberspace — will persist as the preferred weapon of choice. The world’s two great powers may never face each other openly, but their shadow duel ensures the war that will never be fought will also never end.

Trump’s America: Angrier, Divided, and Diminished

Donald Trump has left an indelible mark on American politics — and not necessarily for the better. As anti-Trump demonstrations re-emerge across major cities, the United States stands at a moral and institutional crossroads. The man who promised to “Make America Great Again” may have, in fact, made it angrier, more divided, and dangerously unpredictable.

Trump entered politics as an outsider, a businessman who vowed to drain the Washington “swamp.” Instead, he deepened the very rot he claimed to fight. His tenure blurred the line between governance and self-promotion. Policy became theatre, and truth became negotiable. America’s traditional allies were alienated, global agreements torn up, and diplomacy reduced to Twitter outbursts. Under the banner of “America First,” the United States often stood alone.

Economically, Trump’s initial years delivered the illusion of prosperity — rising markets, corporate tax cuts, and record-low unemployment. But beneath that glitter lay unsustainable deficits, widened inequality, and a fragile economy that crumbled under the first major shock of COVID-19. His pandemic response was chaotic, driven by denial and blame rather than science or empathy. The cost was measured not only in lives lost but in the erosion of public trust.

Perhaps Trump’s most lasting legacy is the deep polarization he cultivated. He thrived on division — turning neighbors into adversaries and truth into casualty. His relentless attacks on media, judiciary, and federal institutions weakened the very foundations that once made America resilient. The January 6th attack on the Capitol was not an aberration; it was the logical culmination of years of incitement and contempt for democratic norms.

Internationally, Trump diminished America’s moral authority. He cozied up to autocrats, undermined multilateralism, and reduced global leadership to transactional bargaining. Even where he scored diplomatic points — such as Middle East normalization deals — the motivation seemed less about peace and more about personal legacy. The result: a world less trusting of American commitments and more skeptical of its leadership.

Today’s protests are not just about Trump’s politics — these are about what America has become under his shadow. A nation once admired for its democratic strength now struggles with internal distrust, misinformation, and fear of its own divisions. Trump did not create America’s anger, but he weaponized it — and that will remain his most enduring contribution.

Let us explore, has Trump made the United States better or worse? The evidence is painfully clear. He has exposed America’s vulnerabilities, exploited its divisions, and left behind a democracy that feels more fragile than ever. The real question is whether America can recover from the politics of resentment he unleashed — or whether Trump’s version of greatness has permanently altered the American soul.

 

Media reports rarely tell truth about crude oil dynamics

Crude oil is produced in many countries, but mostly traded at United States and European exchanges. The producers are often cheated through “cash-settled contracts,” where traders make or lose money without ever taking physical delivery. The real beneficiaries are traders and brokers, while producers are conveniently blamed for rise or fall in production.

The global oil market thrives on numbers — and the manipulation of those numbers. In recent months, a wave of contradictory reports about production, inventories, and demand forecasts has left analysts scratching their heads. This confusion is not the result of poor data collection; it is often a calculated strategy to influence markets, politics, and perceptions.

OPEC Plus producers have long mastered the art of “strategic opacity.” By understating their actual output, they create the illusion of compliance with agreed production cuts and keep prices artificially firm.

At the same time, major consumers — particularly the United States and China — have their own reasons to talk down prices by projecting excess supply or slowing demand. The numbers they release, or the ones they emphasize, are shaped not by accuracy but by advantage.

Even institutions with global credibility — the International Energy Agency (IEA) and the US Energy Information Administration (EIA) — frequently publish forecasts that seem less about data science and more about timing. Their revisions often coincide with key policy announcements or diplomatic shifts.

When oil prices rise too fast, one report warns of “demand destruction.” When prices fall, another quickly highlights “tight supply.” Such contradictions do not reflect improved understanding; they reflect managed narratives.

Private analytics firms and trading houses add another layer of distortion. In a market driven by algorithmic trading and speculative bets, even a single misleading headline can trigger billions in movements. The ambiguity surrounding real supply-demand dynamics benefits those who can manipulate sentiment faster than facts can catch up. For import-dependent nations like Pakistan, this fog of misinformation results in erratic import costs, unpredictable subsidies, and fiscal strain.

The fundamental problem is that oil data remains under the control of those with vested interests. Despite advances in satellite tracking and tanker monitoring, governments and cartels still decide what to disclose — and when. Transparency is talked about endlessly, but practiced sparingly.

Oil has always been more than just an energy commodity; it is a weapon of economic control. The constant release of conflicting numbers is part of a broader game — one where perception, not reality, drives policy and profit. Until the world moves toward truly independent and verifiable reporting of global oil flows, the “truth” about crude will remain flexible, convenient, and profitable — for a select few.

In the end, the market is not confused by accident. It is kept confused — deliberately.

Trump’s Dirty War in the Caribbean

Washington’s addiction to regime change has found a new victim — Venezuela

When power turns lawless, the result is not policy but brutality. The latest revelation that Donald Trump secretly authorized the CIA to conduct lethal operations in Venezuela exposes the United States’ old imperial reflex — to destroy what it cannot control. Cloaked in the language of “national security,” Washington is once again exporting death under the banner of democracy.

According to The New York Times, Trump’s inner circle — led by Secretary of State Marco Rubio and CIA Director John Ratcliffe — gave the agency sweeping authority to target Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro, with or without military coordination. This covert license coincides with Trump’s deadly boat bombings in the Caribbean that have already claimed civilian lives. What began as a “war on drugs” now reeks of a war for oil and geopolitical dominance.

The much-hyped “America First” doctrine has mutated into an unapologetic form of gunboat diplomacy. History is repeating itself — coups in Guatemala, Chile, and Nicaragua are being replayed in a new theater. By designating drug cartels as “terrorist organizations,” Trump has arrogated to himself the right to kill without consequence, erasing the last boundaries between law and lawlessness.

Human rights groups call it what it is — murder. Even Colombian President Gustavo Petro warns that a new war zone has opened in the Caribbean, a tragic reminder that Washington’s militarism remains as indiscriminate as ever. The Caribbean, once a symbol of trade and culture, risks becoming another testing ground for American aggression.

Trump’s Venezuela campaign is not a policy — it is a crime unfolding in real time. Behind the patriotic slogans lies the same old formula: destabilize, divide, and dominate.

Empires do not collapse when they are challenged — they collapse when they mistake impunity for strength. Trump’s dirty war in the Caribbean may well be remembered as that fatal arrogance, when America’s moral compass finally sank beneath its own waves.

Pakistan-IMF: Partnership Built on Dependence

In my recent reflections on Pakistan’s economic dilemmas, one truth stands out — our relationship with the IMF has never been economic, it has always been political. What began as assistance for growth soon turned into a calculated trap of dependency. The IMF didn’t reform Pakistan’s economy; it reprogrammed its sovereignty.

Pakistan’s long association with the IMF has never truly been about stability; it has been about control. What started in the name of “support” evolved into a vicious cycle of borrowing, serving both foreign powers and the ruling elite at home.

During the Cold War, IMF lending was less about economics and more about strategy. Pakistan’s geography made it a convenient pawn in Washington’s global game of containment. Loans came with neatly crafted “conditionalities,” but the real aim was to keep Pakistan’s economy tethered to Western influence.

The much-advertised structural reforms were cosmetic. Land reforms never touched the feudal elite, tax reforms spared the powerful, and privatization transferred wealth to cronies. Instead of fostering industrial growth, policies promoted consumer industries — assembling fast-moving consumer goods rather than producing capital or export goods. The result: an illusion of progress built on imports and consumption.

With every bailout, the dependency mindset grew stronger. The IMF was always available, and policymakers were always willing. A belief took root — that salvation lies in foreign help, not self-reliance.

After the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan in the late 1970s, Pakistan was declared a “frontline ally.” The US poured in funds and influence, effectively turning Pakistan’s economy into a Cold War instrument. IMF support neatly aligned with Washington’s geopolitical interests, ensuring compliance rather than reform.

Over the decades, this external control merged with internal manipulation. Regime changes — military or civilian — often bore foreign fingerprints. Today, the IMF stands not as a partner in reform but as a symbol of economic subservience — proof that Pakistan’s journey from aid to autonomy remains unfinished.

Trump and world leaders sign Gaza peace accord

According to the media reports, US President Donald Trump joined more than 20 world leaders in Sharm El-Sheikh on Monday for high level talks on Gaza’s future as the first phase of the Israel-Hamas ceasefire agreement took effect. The exact contents of the agreement have not yet been made public by the White House.

Noticeably absent from the signing ceremony and discussions in Egypt were representatives of Israel and Hamas, whose ceasefire—brokered by the United States—formally began last week after two years of war in Gaza.

Among those attending the Gaza Peace Summit were Palestinian Authority President Mahmoud Abbas, French President Emmanuel Macron, German Chancellor Friedrich Merz, British Prime Minister Keir Starmer, Qatari Emir Shiekh Tamim bin Hamad, Turkish President Erdogan, former British Prime Minister Tony Blair, and senior officials from Saudi Arabia, Jordan, and the United Arab Emirates.

The leaders posed for a group photo in front of a backdrop reading “Peace 2025” before a formal signing ceremony tied to the ceasefire deal.

Trump, Egyptian President Abdel Fattah el-Sissi, Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, and Qatari Emir Sheikh Tamim bin Hamad Al Thani signed the document on behalf of the participating nations, with world leaders seated behind them.

“This took 3,000 years to get to this point. Can you believe it? And it’s going to hold up too. It’s going to hold up,” Trump said as he signed the document.

In his remarks, Trump called the signing “a turning point for the region,” describing it as the culmination of months of diplomacy.

“This is the day that people across this region and around the world have been working, striving, hoping, and praying for,” he said.

“With the historic agreement we have just signed, those prayers of millions have finally been answered.”

 

Pakistani Policies Turning Taliban Foe

The unraveling Pakistan–Taliban relationship highlights the limits of old security doctrines in a changing regional order.

When the Taliban returned to power in Kabul in 2021, Pakistan hoped for a friendly neighbor and a stable frontier. Four years later, that optimism has faded. Relations have soured, trust has eroded, and the Taliban’s growing warmth toward India signals how far Islamabad’s Afghan policy has drifted from reality.

Pakistan’s once-comfortable relationship with the Taliban is deteriorating — not because of ideology, but because of Islamabad’s own policy. What was once hailed as “strategic depth” is now fast becoming a strategic setback.

For decades, Pakistan believed that supporting the Taliban would ensure border security and limit Indian influence. But since the group’s return to power, those assumptions have collapsed.

Instead of cooperation, Pakistan now faces increasing hostility - frequent border clashes, defiant statements from Kabul, and a resurgent Tehrik-e-Taliban Pakistan (TTP) operating from Afghan soil.

The Taliban’s visible tilt toward India is a symptom of Islamabad’s stance. Pakistan has chosen pressure over diplomacy — closing key crossings, threatening to expel Afghan refugees, and publicly accusing Kabul of harboring militants.

These measures have not subdued the Taliban; they have driven them closer to New Delhi, which offers humanitarian aid and political legitimacy without direct interference.

The irony is stark. Pakistan, once the Taliban’s strongest backer, now finds itself isolated, while India — long regarded as an adversary in Afghan affairs — is quietly re-establishing presence in Kabul. The Taliban, in turn, are using this outreach to project independence and resist external dictates.

Islamabad’s Afghan policy remains trapped in outdated security thinking, viewing Kabul solely through the prism of control.

Unless Pakistan recalibrates its approach — replacing coercion with constructive engagement — it risks losing whatever influence it still retains. The “strategic depth” doctrine that once shaped policy has now turned dangerously shallow.

 

Deepening US Venezuela Confrontation: Drug War or Power Play

Once Washington’s most reliable oil partner, Venezuela now stands accused of becoming a narco-state. The transformation did not happen overnight; it is the outcome of two decades of political defiance, institutional decay, and Washington’s growing use of the “war on drugs” as a tool of geopolitical pressure. What began as a dispute over sovereignty has hardened into a prolonged confrontation where every allegation serves a strategic purpose.

Venezuela’s geography made it a natural corridor for cocaine shipments long before its politics turned hostile. Sharing a 2,200-kilometer border with Colombia — the world’s largest cocaine producer — the country became an attractive route for smugglers. When state capacity weakened and corruption spread across security institutions, trafficking networks found protection within official structures.

The first open clash came in 2005, when President Hugo Chávez expelled the US Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA), accusing its agents of espionage and interference. Washington dismissed the charges, warning the decision would turn Venezuela into a “safe haven for traffickers.” Cooperation collapsed, and intelligence links were cut. The move symbolized a decisive shift - from uneasy partnership to open hostility.

US sources later claimed that cocaine flows through Venezuela rose from 60 tons in 2004 to more than 250 tons by 2007, though these figures remain unverifiable.

For Washington, the statistics justified its narrative that Chávez’s Venezuela had become a narco-military hub. For Caracas, the accusations were a familiar tactic — to equate economic sovereignty with criminal behavior.

The confrontation escalated in March 2020, when the US Department of Justice indicted President Nicolás Maduro and top officials for “narco-terrorism,” alleging collaboration with Colombia’s FARC rebels to ship hundreds of tons of cocaine to the United States.

The US$15 million bounty on Maduro’s arrest blurred the line between diplomacy and law enforcement. It was unprecedented for a superpower to treat a sitting head of state as a cartel boss.

Maduro’s government called the move “a pretext for intervention,” and not without reason. Having failed to unseat him through sanctions and isolation, Washington found in the drug war a new justification to tighten pressure. While Venezuela’s institutional rot is undeniable, the “narco-state” label has become a convenient geopolitical weapon — used selectively against regimes unwilling to align with US strategic interests.

The drug war, in this case, is less about cocaine and more about control. Two decades after the first rupture, the US–Venezuela standoff remains a contest of narratives — one dressed in the language of law enforcement, the other wrapped in defiance of imperial power. Between them lies a reality both sides refuse to face - geopolitics, not narcotics, fuels this enduring hostility.

Is Pakistan Being Pushed into a ‘US Proxy War’ in Afghanistan?

Behind the new wave of border clashes may lie an old script — one written in Washington and played out in Islamabad and Kabul. Has Pakistan once again been cast in the role of America’s proxy?

The recent spike in Pak-Afghan border tensions has once again pushed the region to the edge of confrontation. Reports suggest that armed militants crossing from Afghanistan have attacked Pakistani security posts, prompting Islamabad’s “severe retaliation.” Yet, beneath the visible smoke of gunfire lies a far more intricate and disturbing reality — one that hints at the shadow of global power politics.

Following the US withdrawal from Afghanistan in 2021, Washington appeared to have lost its strategic foothold in the region. The Taliban’s refusal to hand over the Bagam Air Base — once a vital hub of American military operations — was not merely a symbolic rejection; it was a strategic rebuff. The superpower lost a vantage point near China, Iran, and Central Asia.

It is no coincidence that within months of that refusal, Afghanistan began facing renewed instability, and Pakistan started encountering an inexplicable surge in cross-border attacks.

My hypothesis is simple: when Washington cannot re-enter Afghanistan directly, it may seek to create circumstances that justify intervention. The most effective way to do that is to provoke conflict. The pattern fits. Anonymous “operators” — possibly non-state actors with advanced intelligence capabilities — carry out attacks inside Pakistan, inviting a retaliatory strike. The resulting escalation allows the US to portray the region as unstable and Taliban-controlled Afghanistan as a “global threat.” A familiar pretext for yet another intervention is thus created.

Ironically, Pakistan — which has already paid an enormous price in blood and economy during the first “War on Terror” — now risks being drawn into another one, this time as an unwilling participant in someone else’s geopolitical chessboard. The tragedy is that Islamabad still struggles to draw a clear line between its national interests and Washington’s regional ambitions. History, it seems, is repeating itself — and not for the better.

What complicates matters further is the deep mistrust between Islamabad and Kabul. The Taliban government, already under economic sanctions and political isolation, accuses Pakistan of toeing the American line. Pakistan, on the other hand, blames Afghanistan for harboring militants of the Tehrik-i-Taliban Pakistan (TTP). Yet neither side seems willing to see how external forces might be manipulating both.

The strategic question Pakistan must ask is: Whose war are we fighting this time? If recent cross-border provocations are indeed part of a larger plan to destabilize the region, Islamabad must avoid taking the bait. A measured, intelligence-based response — not blind retaliation — is the need of the hour. Pakistan’s security cannot depend on reaction; it must rest on foresight.

The lesson from the past two decades is painfully clear. Every time Pakistan has fought on behalf of someone else, it has lost — in lives, in reputation, and in internal cohesion. If history is repeating itself, the least we can do is refuse to play the same role again.

Hamas Agreeing to Ceasefire: Victory or Defeat

This ceasefire is not the end of war. It is merely the pause between two tragedies.

After months of destruction, displacement, and despair, Hamas has agreed to a ceasefire. Its supporters call it a “strategic pause,” but in truth, it reflects exhaustion — political, military, and moral. When resistance drifts from purpose to performance, it loses the essence of struggle and becomes an exercise in survival.

Hamas overestimated its resilience and underestimated the duplicity of the Arab world. The self-proclaimed defenders of Palestine turned spectators, mouthing empty slogans while doing business with Tel Aviv.

The Western champions of democracy and human rights proved, once again, that these values have geographical limits. In this moral vacuum, Hamas found itself fighting alone — a resistance without reinforcements.

The ceasefire may silence the guns, but it cannot disguise the catastrophe. Gaza stands in ruins — its governance crippled, its population scattered, its children scarred.

Israel may not have destroyed Hamas, but it has devastated everything around it. The resistance lives, but the society it claimed to protect lies in ashes.

Yet Israel’s so-called “victory” is equally hollow. Two years of relentless war have brought neither peace nor security. Instead, Israel finds itself morally isolated and diplomatically cornered. The global sympathy it once commanded has turned to disgust. Even among its traditional allies, questions are being asked: how long can “self-defense” justify collective punishment?

To conclude, is this ceasefire a victory or a defeat?

For Hamas, it is survival without success; for Israel, dominance without dignity. Both sides are trapped in a cycle of destruction that yields no justice, only rubble and resentment.

The true defeat lies with the international community — which has normalized occupation, tolerated brutality, and renamed surrender as “peace.”

 

کون بنے گا غزہ کا بادشاہ

غزہ جل رہا ہے، مگر تخت خالی نہیں۔ ہر کوئی بادشاہ بننے کو بے چین ہے — کوئی بندوق لے کر، کوئی قرارداد اٹھا کر، کوئی انسان کے آنسو بیچ کر۔ یہ وہ بادشاہت ہے جس کے محل ملبے میں دفن ہیں، اور رعایا مٹی میں۔

عرب دنیا اب صرف بیانات کی بادشاہت چلاتی ہے۔ کوئی قطر میں کانفرنس بلاتا ہے، کوئی ریاض میں “امن” کے تسبیح دانے گنتا ہے۔ ہر کوئی سمجھتا ہے کہ اس کی خاموشی ہی دانش مندی ہے۔ غزہ میں خون بہے یا بچوں کے لاشے بکھریں، اصل مسئلہ یہ ہے کہ فوٹو سیشن میں کون اگلی صف میں بیٹھے گا۔ بادشاہت کے خواب اب تسبیح کے دانوں سے نہیں، “لائکس” اور “ڈالرز” سے گنے جاتے ہیں۔

مغربی دنیا بھی کم تماشائی نہیں۔ کوئی آزادیِ اظہار کے پرچم تلے جلتے گھروں کی تصویریں چھاپتا ہے، اور کوئی “دہشت گرد” کا لیبل لگا کر قبر کی مٹی ہلکی کر دیتا ہے۔ جنہوں نے فلسطینیوں کو تاریخ کا سب سے بڑا سبق دینے کا وعدہ کیا تھا، وہ اب جغرافیہ بھی ان سے چھین چکے ہیں۔

اور حماس؟ وہ بھی بادشاہت کی دوڑ میں پیچھے نہیں۔ تخت بچانے کے لیے رعایا قربان، عزت بچانے کے لیے لاشیں گنی جا رہی ہیں۔ مزاحمت کا نعرہ اب زندہ رہنے کی نہیں، اقتدار بچانے کی علامت بن چکا ہے۔

غزہ میں بادشاہت کا تاج اب خون میں بھیگا ہوا ہے — مگر دعوے دار سب مسکراتے ہیں۔ کوئی اسرائیل کی طرف دیکھتا ہے، کوئی واشنگٹن کی، کوئی تہران کی۔ سب جانتے ہیں، جو بادشاہ بنے گا، وہ رعایا کے خون سے نہیں، خاموشی سے حکومت کرے گا۔

اور رعایا؟ وہ اب صرف ملبے کے نیچے رہ گئی ہے، جہاں بادشاہت کے تمام خواب دفن ہو چکے ہیں۔
آخر میں صرف ایک سوال باقی ہے —
غزہ کا بادشاہ کون بنے گا؟
جو سب کو مار چکا ہے، یا جو اب بھی زندہ رہنے کی سزا بھگت رہا ہے؟

Neither Trump nor Machado Deserves Praise

Both Donald Trump and María Corina Machado thrive on the politics of illusion. Trump promises to “make America great again,” while Machado vows to “liberate Venezuela.” Behind these slogans lies a familiar playbook — inflame divisions, exploit public despair, and crown oneself the only redeemer of a corrupted state.

Trump’s brand of populism is less about patriotism and more about personal vengeance. His contempt for institutions, judiciary, and even allies is legendary. He has converted grievance into a political doctrine and chaos into an electoral strategy. To his followers, this looks like courage; to the rest of the world, it looks like narcissism on steroids.

Machado, meanwhile, is being hailed by the Western media as the “face of freedom.” But her freedom narrative is selective. She belongs to the same Venezuelan elite that squandered the nation’s oil wealth long before Hugo Chávez arrived. Her sudden rediscovery of democracy sounds less like conviction and more like nostalgia for lost privilege.

In a country battered by sanctions, corruption, and poverty, her promise to “rebuild Venezuela” rings hollow without a plan beyond regime change.

Washington, as usual, has learned nothing. It once sold dictators as “pro-West reformers”; now it packages every anti-Maduro voice as a democrat. In reality, Machado’s politics is no less polarizing than Maduro’s — only more polished in presentation.

Populism, whether draped in Trump’s flag or Machado’s rhetoric, remains a dangerous narcotic. It feeds on resentment, not reason. It dismantles institutions in the name of saving them.

Democracy cannot be rescued by those who believe they alone embody the will of the people. Both Trump and Machado thrive on division and deliver little more than slogans. Their rise exposes not their genius but our collective fatigue with genuine leadership.

Neither deserves praise — because both are reflections of societies that have mistaken noise for change.