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The United States has experienced a notable surge in inflation, with consumer prices rising by nearly 1 percent in March. This significant increase, one of the highest short-term inflation rates in years, is largely attributed to the disruption of energy markets amid the ongoing conflict with Iran. According to a report by the US Bureau of Labor Statistics, the inflation rate in March was 0.9 percent, up from 0.3 percent in February. This marks the largest increase since May 2022, during the peak of the cost-of-living crisis triggered by the COVID-19 pandemic. The March increase was primarily driven by energy prices, with gasoline prices surging by 21.2 percent and fuel oil prices increasing by more than 30 percent. The energy index saw a 10.9 percent increase in March, the largest monthly rise since September 2005. The escalation in prices followed the US and Israel's launch of an all-out war on Iran on February 28, which resulted in the killing of Iran's Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei. In response, Tehran closed the Strait of Hormuz, causing oil and gas prices worldwide to skyrocket. The price of a barrel of oil reached $120, up from about $70 on February 27. In the US, the price of one gallon of gasoline exceeded $4.1, a significant increase from less than $3 before the conflict began. Although a two-week ceasefire was agreed upon between the US and Iran, marine traffic in the Strait of Hormuz remains at a fraction of its pre-war levels. US President Donald Trump has warned Iran against blocking the strait or charging vessels for safe passage. About 20 percent of the world's oil passes through the Strait of Hormuz. While the ceasefire has brought some relief to the global energy market, with oil prices dropping to less than $100, US consumers are still paying $4.15 on average at the petrol pump. Experts suggest that it will take several months for prices to stabilize. The inflation report comes as US politicians focus on the cost of living and affordability, ahead of the November midterm elections. Trump's Democratic rivals have criticized him for launching the war without congressional approval, highlighting the increased economic costs for Americans.

JD Vance, the United States vice‑president, issued a stark warning to Tehran as he boarded Air Force Two for Pakistan: Iran must not attempt to "play" the United States at the peace talks scheduled for Saturday in Islamabad. The talks, mediated by Pakistan, could determine whether the fragile ceasefire in the region holds or if hostilities resume, with significant repercussions for the global economy, especially oil markets. Iranian parliamentary speaker Mohammad Bagher Ghalibaf and foreign minister Abbas Araghchi have conditioned their participation on two unmet measures: a full ceasefire in Lebanon and the release of Iran’s blocked assets. Ghalibaf posted on X that "Two of the measures mutually agreed upon between the parties have yet to be implemented." Uncertainty lingered on Friday night about whether the Iranian delegation would even travel to Islamabad. Earlier reports indicated that Israel had removed the Iranian officials from its bombing target list at Washington’s request. Meanwhile, Donald Trump amplified the tension, telling the New York Post that U.S. forces were "loading up the ships with the best ammunition" and would use them if negotiations failed. He later posted that Iran "has no cards" except short‑term extortion of international waterways. The backdrop to the talks is a worsening Lebanon‑Israel confrontation. More than 300 Lebanese civilians have been killed since the ceasefire began, and 13 Lebanese security personnel died in an Israeli strike on a government building in Nabatieh. Trump and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu dispute whether the April 7 ceasefire between the U.S. and Iran includes Lebanon, and Israel continues bombing Hezbollah‑linked targets despite Netanyahu’s earlier statements about opening negotiations with the Lebanese government. Oil markets have felt the shock. The February 28 U.S.–Israeli strike on Iran and Tehran’s subsequent closure of the Strait of Hormuz—shutting off roughly one‑fifth of the world’s oil and liquefied natural gas—triggered a sharp price spike, adding political pressure ahead of the November U.S. congressional elections. Vance, however, expressed optimism as he departed for Islamabad: "We’re looking forward to the negotiation. I think it’s going to be positive. If the Iranians are willing to negotiate in good faith, we’re certainly willing to extend the open hand." He added, "If they’re going to try and play us, then they’ll find the negotiating team is not that receptive." The U.S. delegation also includes senior adviser Steve Witkoff and former senior adviser Jared Kushner, both of whom participated in earlier talks on Iran’s nuclear and missile programmes before the February attack. Negotiations are expected to focus on reopening the Strait of Hormuz, the future of Iran’s nuclear program, potential sanctions relief, reparations for war damage, and the release of Americans detained in Iran, according to the Washington Post. Advance teams from the United States and Iran have already taken up rooms at Islamabad’s five‑star Serena hotel, with Pakistani officials acting as intermediaries. Security forces have established a two‑mile perimeter around the hotel, declared a public holiday, and locked down the city centre to ensure a safe environment for the high‑stakes mediation. Hezbollah, while not commenting directly on the Lebanese‑Israeli negotiations, issued a statement urging the Lebanese government to stop "making gratuitous concessions" and vowed to continue fighting to "expel the occupier." The Lebanese army has reinforced its presence in Beirut following an Israeli strike that killed at least 303 people. Fighting persists in southern Lebanon, with Hezbollah claiming to have struck Israeli soldiers near Bint Jbeil—a town symbolic of resistance from the 2006 war—and launching rockets into Israel throughout Friday. Israel’s airstrikes across Lebanon have intensified, culminating in the Nabatieh attack that killed the highest number of Lebanese security forces to date.

Jonathan Freedland contends that the record of Benjamin Netanyahu’s recent wartime conduct is one of stark failure, despite the spotlight it has received alongside former U.S. President Donald Trump.While Trump has dominated headlines with his rhetoric on Iran and a self‑announced cease‑fire, Netanyahu has quietly overseen a continuation of hostilities across the region. Israel’s air campaign on Lebanon—the most lethal single strike in recent memory—targeted roughly 100 sites in a ten‑minute window, leaving at least 303 dead and more than 1,150 injured, many of them civilians.Israel maintains that the U.S.‑brokered deal with Tehran does not extend to Lebanon, a claim disputed by Iran and Pakistani mediators. Netanyahu, meanwhile, has pledged to sustain “full‑force” attacks on what Israel labels Hezbollah launch positions, even as he publicly agrees to diplomatic talks with Beirut.Internationally, Netanyahu is already wanted by the International Criminal Court for alleged war crimes in Gaza, and his reputation abroad is that of a war‑time villain. Domestically, his supporters still view him as a security hawk, a perception that matters most as Israel faces elections no later than 27 October.Freedland highlights that the October 7, 2023 Hamas onslaught—Israel’s deadliest terrorist attack—occurred under Netanyahu’s watch, a fact that would have toppled most leaders in comparable democracies. Yet the prime minister promised “total victory” over Hamas, a promise that remains unfulfilled after a two‑year bombardment that has claimed roughly 70,000 lives in Gaza while leaving Hamas in control of the enclave’s unoccupied areas.Claims of having neutralised Hezbollah have also proved hollow. Although Israel announced the death of the group’s leader, Hezbollah continues to rebuild its arsenal and resumed rocket fire, undermining the narrative of a decisive Israeli triumph.Similarly, the 12‑day 2025‑2026 confrontation with Iran—branded by Trump as an obliteration of Tehran’s nuclear programme and by Netanyahu as a historic victory—has not diminished Iran’s strategic capabilities. The nation still possesses enriched uranium, a robust missile stockpile, and the ability to threaten global shipping through the Strait of Hormuz, effectively holding a lever over the world economy.Freedland argues that Netanyahu’s doctrine of perpetual military pressure yields only temporary relief, likening it to repeatedly cutting off a snake’s head only for it to regrow. Former Israeli general‑turned‑politician Yair Golan is quoted as saying that Netanyahu “does not know how to translate battlefield successes into lasting political security.”The human cost of this approach is evident not only in the casualties of Gaza, the Bekaa Valley and Israeli cities, but also in Israel’s deteriorating diplomatic standing. Recent legislation in the Knesset—pushed by far‑right minister Itamar Ben‑Gvir and supported by Netanyahu—introduces a death‑penalty provision for Palestinians convicted of terrorism, a move condemned internationally as discriminatory.As Israelis endure nightly bomb‑shelter drills and semi‑lockdown conditions, the electorate faces a stark choice. Polls suggest that even if Netanyahu is ousted, his successor may continue a similar hard‑line stance, albeit with different execution. Freedland concludes that Israel’s long‑term security cannot rely solely on force; a negotiated accommodation with neighbours, especially the Palestinians, may finally become politically viable after the exposure of Netanyahu’s repeated strategic failures.

Millions of Indians have cast their votes in local elections in two states and a federally-governed territory, marking a crucial test of support for Prime Minister Narendra Modi and his right-wing Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP). The elections, held in Assam, Kerala, and the Union Territory of Puducherry, are part of five key contests scheduled this month. Voting was held on Thursday, with results due on May 4. Prime Minister Modi appealed to people to exercise their franchise in large numbers, stating, “I hope that the state’s youth and women voters participate enthusiastically and make this election a celebration of democracy and public duty.” In Assam, a BJP-led alliance has ruled the northeastern state for two successive terms and is expected to retain power. However, the BJP did not field any Muslim candidate in Assam, where the community constitutes more than 34 percent of the state’s population. In Kerala, parties opposed to the BJP are set to win, as power traditionally alternates between alliances led by the Indian National Congress and the communist parties. Modi’s party has struggled to gain ground in the state but has invested heavily to expand its presence. The elections are also crucial for opposition parties seeking to build a sustained challenge to the BJP’s dominance across the country. The outcome could show whether Modi’s party can extend its dominance by making inroads into opposition strongholds.

Djibouti, a one‑million‑strong nation perched on the Bab al‑Mandeb Strait, is set to hold its presidential election on April 10. All signs point to incumbent Ismail Omar Guelleh securing a sixth term with little genuine opposition. The country’s strategic location—linking the Red Sea to the Gulf of Aden—makes it a linchpin for global trade and a magnet for foreign military installations. The United States, France, China, Italy and Japan all maintain bases there, earning Djibouti the reputation of hosting the highest concentration of overseas military sites. Officially, Djibouti recognizes French and Arabic, while Somali and Afar are widely spoken among the two main ethnic groups, which together comprise roughly 95% of the population. Islam is practiced by about 94% of residents, and the Djiboutian franc remains the national currency. According to the International Foundation for Electoral Systems, 243,471 citizens—about a quarter of the population—are registered to vote, up from roughly 215,000 in the 2021 poll. Historical turnout averages around 67%. IGAD’s eight‑nation bloc has dispatched 17 observers from Ethiopia, Kenya, Somalia, South Sudan and Uganda to monitor the process, with a post‑vote statement slated for April 12. Ismail Omar Guelleh, 78, leads the ruling People’s Rally for Progress. After parliament lifted the 75‑year age ceiling in November and abolished term limits back in 2010, Guelleh is now eligible for another term. Critics label his rule as authoritarian, yet they also acknowledge the relative stability he has maintained in a volatile region. Guelleh’s administration has turned Djibouti’s lack of natural resources into a revenue engine by signing infrastructure deals with China and leasing military facilities to Western powers. In 2017, Finance Minister Ilyas Dawaleh estimated that the bases generate roughly $125 million annually, with the United States contributing nearly half of that sum. The U.S. installation, Camp Lemonnier, remains the only permanent American base on the continent. The sole challenger, Mohamed Farah Samatar, runs under the Unified Democratic Centre after breaking away from the ruling party. His campaign slogan—“another Djibouti is possible”—has resonated only modestly, and observers such as Horn‑of‑Africa expert Sonia le Gouriellec describe the contest as a “token competition”. Human‑rights advocates echo this sentiment, calling the election a “masquerade” and a foregone conclusion. Key issues dominate the discourse. Democratic freedoms have eroded; opposition parties have boycotted elections since 2016, and Guelleh captured over 90% of the vote in 2021. The country ranks 168th out of 180 in the 2025 Reporters Without Borders press‑freedom index, and allegations of corruption and nepotism persist, including speculation that Guelleh’s stepson, Naguib Abdallah Kamil, is being groomed for succession. Economically, Djibouti’s reliance on Chinese financing is creating fiscal strain. By 2026 the nation owed China roughly $1.2 billion in loans, prompting the IMF to label its debt profile “in distress and unsustainable”. Massive infrastructure projects—most notably a railway to Ethiopia—have failed to curb poverty, with 73% of the youth unemployed. The country’s lifeline is its port system, which handles virtually all of Ethiopia’s maritime trade, amounting to about $2 billion in annual revenue. Ethiopia’s recent flirtation with a Somaliland port deal threatened Djibouti’s monopoly, though a Turkey‑mediated agreement in late 2024 redirected Ethiopia toward a “reliable and sustainable” sea corridor with Somalia. In sum, the upcoming election is less about a competitive political showdown and more about reaffirming a status quo that intertwines Djibouti’s geopolitical leverage, foreign‑military income, and mounting debt challenges.

The latest Cannes lineup reveals a clear pivot from the usual Hollywood glamour toward a roster dominated by celebrated world‑cinema auteurs such as Pedro Almodóvar, Cristian Mungiu and Asghar Farhadi. While last year’s festival was anchored by a Mission: Impossible spectacle starring Tom Cruise, this edition offers a more eclectic mix, including debut features from Andy Garcia (who also stars in his crime drama Diamond) and John Travolta, who directs the aviation‑themed Propeller One‑Way Night Coach based on his own novel.Under the stewardship of director Thierry Frémaux, Cannes continues to bar films that are exclusive to streaming platforms, a stance that has been vindicated by recent Oscar successes for festival selections. The festival also entered the AI debate: Steven Soderbergh’s documentary John Lennon: The Last Interview employs artificial intelligence to reconstruct visual elements of the legendary interview, sparking both fascination and unease among attendees.Gender representation remains skewed, with a noticeable predominance of male directors in the competition slate, although the final list is still pending. Notably absent are any British filmmakers, despite the inclusion of Polish auteur Paweł Pawlikowski, whose biopic of Thomas Mann, Fatherland, could be loosely claimed as a UK entry given his long residence there.Geopolitical undercurrents are hard to ignore. Russian director Andrey Zvyagintsev returns with Minotaur, a film about a beleaguered Russian businessman. Zvyagintsev, once favored by Vladimir Putin, now lives in exile in France, adding a layer of political intrigue to his work amid the ongoing war in Ukraine.The competition also features a strong historical thread: László Nemes’s Moulin revisits occupied France, Emmanuel Marre’s Notre Salut explores Vichy‑era France, and Lukas Dhont’s Coward follows a Belgian soldier’s harrowing experience in World‑I trenches.Among the more provocative entries, Nicolas Winding Refn’s Her Private Hell promises shock value in the out‑of‑competition slot, while the Un Certain Regard section showcases Jane Schoenbrun’s queer slasher Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma, likely to become a festival highlight.

On 23 June 2016, the United Kingdom’s electorate shifted from party‑centric voting to a binary choice between staying in or leaving the European Union. A decade later, about 60 % of the population still define themselves by the side they chose in that single referendum, turning a one‑off political decision into a lasting personal identity.While analysts often focus on the policy fallout—economic turbulence, party infighting, and shifting trade relations—the real impact runs deeper. The referendum ignited a civil‑war‑like split that continues to shape elections, media narratives, and everyday conversations across the country.Before the global upheavals of the George Floyd protests and the Covid‑19 vaccine rollout, Brexit was Britain’s most potent form of identity politics. It spawned new media outlets, such as GB News, and programmes like The Rest Is Politics, while also marginalising older cultural tropes like the “centrist dad” or “gammon” heckler on Question Time. Figures such as Nigel Farage and Zack Polanski now occupy the political fringe rather than the mainstream.The analysis draws on the new book Tribal Politics: How Brexit Divided Britain by political scientists Sara Hobolt and James Tilley. Their longitudinal surveys reveal a simple yet striking pattern: the referendum transformed a previously lukewarm public attitude toward the EU into a powerful, identity‑based habit.Prior to 2016, most Britons held only a mild Euroscepticism and gave the EU little thought. Even former Prime Minister David Cameron tried to silence the issue in 2006, believing it failed to engage voters. The sudden elevation of a niche concern to a national obsession forced ordinary citizens to pick a side, discuss it in pubs, and embed it into their self‑image—a process James Clear describes as building “identity‑based habits”.Data from Hobolt and Tilley show that emotional attachment to the Brexit identity was modest before the vote, rose sharply as the referendum approached, and surged dramatically after the result was announced. The post‑vote period saw a flood of EU‑themed merchandise, street rallies, and even flag‑clashes at cultural events such as the 2017 Last Night of the Proms.Crucially, the tribal divide has not faded. By 2025, only around 40 % of “Leavers” feel comfortable discussing politics with “Remainers”, and the sentiment is reciprocated. This goes beyond mere disagreement; it reflects a level of social discrimination where individuals on opposite sides would hesitate to share a home or marry into each other’s families.The authors note that the split now extends to perceptions of reality itself. Even in 2024, Remainers and Leavers disagreed on basic economic indicators, illustrating how the referendum reshaped not just policy preferences but fundamental worldviews.Class‑based voting, which dominated the 20th‑century British political landscape, has been largely supplanted by this new cultural cleavage. A previous study co‑authored by Tilley showed that the Labour Party’s turn toward the political centre in the 1990s eroded traditional working‑class loyalty. Today, leader Keir Starmer’s working‑class credentials appear largely symbolic, offering little substantive change.With class politics receded, culture wars have taken centre stage. The Brexit campaign’s vague promises about trade left the nation with a protracted, messy adjustment period. Immigration, famously dubbed the “baseball bat” issue by Dominic Cummings, remains the most polarising policy divide, followed by foreign aid and even the death penalty.Hobolt and Tilley’s most striking chart shows that while Remainers and Leavers clash over immigration, they share little disagreement on economic equality, workers’ rights, or public ownership—issues that directly affect household incomes. This suggests that the political battle is driven more by symbolic identity than by material concerns, benefitting those already financially secure.In sum, the United Kingdom’s post‑Brexit reality is one of entrenched tribalism, where a single referendum has reshaped social bonds, political discourse, and perceptions of truth itself. The nation continues to grapple with the legacy of a vote that turned a policy decision into a lasting cultural fault line.

Assam, India – Under the sweltering April sun, Akram Ali stood amid the rubble of his four‑room house, a home he had built over 45 years ago. The demolition, part of a government‑led bulldozing operation on March 14, turned his residence into a pile of debris.Bulldozers descended on Islampur, a Muslim‑majority neighbourhood on the outskirts of Guwahati, and for four hours razed homes across 177 hectares (437 acres). The sweep rendered 400 families homeless, including Ali, who now lives in a tarpaulin shanty a few kilometres from his former home.Ali, a daily‑wage worker, told Al Jazeera that despite identifying as Goriya – “son of the soil” – his house was destroyed. The Goriyas are an Assamese‑speaking Muslim community traditionally settled in the tea‑belt region. In 2022, the ruling Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) officially recognised the Goriya, along with four other Muslim sub‑groups, as “Indigenous” to Assam.While this designation has afforded the Indigenous Muslims a degree of cultural safety, it has not shielded them from the state’s aggressive land‑clearance drives. Ali questioned the distinction, asking, “Weren’t our homes demolished because we are Muslims?”Muslims make up more than a third of Assam’s 31 million residents, according to the 2011 census. Of these, roughly 6.3 million are Bengali‑speaking “miyas,” often labelled “outsiders,” while about 4 million belong to Indigenous groups like the Goriya.The BJP, led nationally by Prime Minister Narendra Modi, has been courting the Indigenous Muslim vote ahead of the April 2026 state elections, where it seeks a third consecutive term after governing since 2016. Chief Minister Himanta Biswa Sarma, who has spearheaded the party’s crackdown on “miyas” since 2021, claims the government will “never target” Indigenous Muslims.Political analyst Bonojit Hussain explains that the BJP’s outreach serves two purposes: softening its communal image and capturing decisive vote blocks in constituencies where Indigenous Muslims and Hindus together decide the outcome. In seats such as Nalbari, where Indigenous Muslims account for over 25 % of the electorate, and Barkhetri, with roughly 80,000 Muslim voters, the community’s support can swing the result.Upper Assam, a region with a strong Assamese‑speaking identity, is especially critical. Journalist Firoz Khan notes that Indigenous Muslims influence the outcome in seven or eight of the 39 seats there, prompting the BJP to temper its overtly anti‑Muslim rhetoric in the area.Despite the party’s overtures, many Indigenous Muslims remain skeptical. Moinul Islam, spokesperson for the rights group Sadou Asom Goria Jatiya Parishad, warned that the BJP’s broader anti‑Muslim policies—evictions, voter‑list objections, and alleged deportations—are unlikely to win their votes.Earlier in 2025, similar demolition drives displaced hundreds of Goriya families in Lakhimpur and Golaghat districts, and a systematic campaign to challenge Muslim names on electoral rolls further strained relations.BJP spokesman Kishore Upadhyay dismissed the allegations as “malicious, biased and politically motivated,” but Indigenous groups argue the pattern signals an attempt to erase their cultural legacy.Recent actions by the state government reinforce this perception. Chief Minister Sarma renamed the only medical college in Barpeta—previously bearing the name of Goriya freedom fighter Fakhruddin Ali Ahmed—arguing that institutions should reflect their geographic location. Critics view the move as symbolic of a broader effort to marginalise Muslim contributions to Assam’s history.In December 2025, Sarma also proposed dropping the hyphen in “Sankar‑Azan,” a name that celebrated the syncretic legacy of 15th‑century polymath Srimanta Sankardev and 17th‑century Sufi saint Azan Peer. Communist Party member Isfaqur Rahman warned that such revisions reflect a “slow erasure of Assamese Muslim heritage.”For Ali, the demolition has hardened his political stance. “After being evicted, the chief minister called us illegal immigrants and broke our backs by destroying our homes,” he said. “We are the new miyas.”

During Donald Trump’s January 2025 inauguration, Giorgia Meloni was the only European leader invited, underscoring a brief period of close personal and diplomatic ties between Italy’s right‑wing government and the new U.S. administration. A month earlier she had been photographed sharing a private conversation with Trump at the Élysée Palace while President Emmanuel Macron celebrated the reopening of Notre‑Dame. From the outset of Trump’s second term, the Italian premier was hailed by the U.S. president as a “real live wire” and the European ally who could help “straighten out the world.” Meloni embraced the role, describing Trump as a “brilliant man” and promising to "make the West great again" together. That camaraderie has now eroded. In the wake of the US‑Israeli military action against Iran, Meloni told reporters during a Gulf‑region visit that "when we don’t agree, we must say it", explicitly rejecting the war. Her stance was reinforced a week earlier when Italy denied U.S. bombers permission to refuel at a southern base. Political analysts note that Meloni’s shift marks a decisive break from Trump’s agenda. Roberto D’Alimonte, a political‑science professor at Luiss University, warned that her earlier attempt to act as a bridge between Trump and European allies has become a “liability” she now seeks to repair. Public opinion reflects the change. Recent polls show a solid majority of Italians oppose the Iran war, and support for Trump in Italy has plunged from 35 % to just 19 %. The backlash also manifested in a recent referendum on judicial reform, where 61 % of voters aged 18‑34 rejected Meloni’s proposal—a defeat analysts link more to dissatisfaction with her foreign‑policy alignment than to the reform itself. Beyond politics, the conflict threatens Italy’s economy. As the EU’s second‑largest natural‑gas consumer—accounting for roughly 40 % of its energy mix—Italy is feeling the impact of soaring energy prices caused by the near‑total shutdown of traffic through the Strait of Hormuz. The Bank of Italy now projects only a 0.5 % growth rate for 2026‑27, down from earlier forecasts, while the national statistics office reported that Italy’s fiscal deficit has breached the EU’s 3 % ceiling, limiting fiscal flexibility ahead of next year’s elections. Despite these pressures, Meloni has not completely abandoned the United States. In March she declined Trump’s request to dispatch Italian warships to the Strait of Hormuz, aligning with other European nations, yet she stopped short of condemning the US‑led operation outright. Experts argue that Meloni’s approach is deliberately cautious. “She is pragmatic and politically skilled,” D’Alimonte said. “She will continue to balance criticism of Trump’s aggressive foreign policy with the need to preserve strategic ties, moving step‑by‑step toward a stronger European alignment without burning bridges.”