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In a forceful statement released on Monday, a panel of 13 United Nations experts demanded that Israel halt all attacks on displaced Palestinians sheltering in Gaza and cease the accelerating forced‑displacement campaign in the occupied West Bank. Israeli air strikes in March set fire to tents housing Gaza’s internally displaced people, causing numerous fatalities, the experts noted, describing the tactic as part of a broader strategy to make life untenable for Palestinians. “This cycle of displacement, terror, and targeted attacks serves an ultimate purpose: to make life unbearable for Palestinians and permanently force them from their land,” the panel declared, underscoring the systematic nature of the violence. The experts warned that the targeting of makeshift shelters violates international humanitarian law and amounts to a grave breach, given that the majority of Gaza’s population has already endured multiple forced transfers. Beyond the immediate danger of bombardment, civilians living in tents face severe health threats—including hunger, exposure to freezing temperatures, flooding, and a lack of basic services. Women and children, the panel stressed, bear a disproportionate share of deprivation. Turning to the West Bank, the panel condemned what it described as a “sharp escalation in forced displacement” driven by the Israeli army and “state‑backed settler terrorism.” Daily attacks have resulted in killings, injuries, and the widespread destruction of homes, farmland, and livelihoods. According to a 2025 report from the UN Human Rights Office, more than 36,000 Palestinians have been forcibly displaced amid the expansion of illegal settlements, a figure the experts say illustrates a broader policy of ethnic cleansing across the occupied Palestinian territory. The panel urged Israel to end all forced‑displacement activities in the West Bank and to facilitate the safe return of those uprooted. It also called on the international community to uphold its legal obligations, launch independent investigations, and refrain from providing assistance that could enable the continuation of the occupation. The 13‑member panel includes UN special rapporteurs such as Francesca Albanese (occupied Palestinian territory), Paula Gaviria Betancur (rights of internally displaced persons), Michael Fakhri (right to food), and Reem Alsalem (violence against women and girls).

Rory McIlroy's sixth major victory at the Masters Tournament has cemented his status as a golfing great, drawing comparisons to Seve Ballesteros and other legends of the sport.McIlroy's achievement is not just about the numbers; it's about the style and excitement he brings to the game. His thrilling performances have captivated audiences, making him a must-watch for fans and a key figure in golf's popularity.The Northern Irish golfer's journey to success has been inspiring, from his humble roots in Belfast to his rise as a global superstar. His relatable personality and dedication to hard work have endeared him to fans worldwide.McIlroy's comeback at the Masters was nothing short of remarkable. Despite struggling with consistency, he managed to secure a dramatic win, showcasing his resilience and creativity on the course.His influence on golf extends beyond his own performances. McIlroy is a key figure in shaping the sport's future, and his involvement in high-profile events like the Ryder Cup has made him a leader in the golfing world.

Acclaimed director Ken Loach revisits his 2016 film I, Daniel Blake, a poignant portrayal of poverty and the struggles faced by those in need. The film, which sparked controversy upon its release, shed light on the cruel realities of a system that vilifies the vulnerable.Loach reveals that the film was born out of a time of 'mean-spiritedness,' where those who needed support were met with punishment. The story follows Daniel Blake, a character who desperately wants to work but is thwarted by a system designed to fail him.The film's screenwriter, Paul Laverty, conducted extensive research, including a visit to a Glasgow food bank, where he encountered a young man who had not eaten in two to three days. This harrowing experience inspired a pivotal scene in the film, where Katie, played by Hayley Squires, is forced to eat cold baked beans from a tin.Loach notes that at the time of the film's release, the notion of food banks as an institution was unimaginable. However, food banks are now a normalized part of society, with many people relying on them to survive. The film's portrayal of poverty and hunger was met with resistance from some, including Damian Green, who claimed it was a work of fiction. Loach counters that while the characters are fictional, the stories are rooted in truth.Hayley Squires, who played Katie, shares her experience working on the film. She was drawn to the project after meeting Loach and was impressed by his authenticity and warmth. The film's shooting process was unique, with Squires and her co-star Dave Johns working chronologically and improvising scenes.Squires also recounts her preparation for the food bank scene, which included visiting a real food bank and cutting back on food to better understand the experience of hunger. The scene was shot only once, with Loach and the cinematographer Robbie Ryan working to create a sense of empathy and realism.

Two planes of Iranian negotiators, many from the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps, arrived in Pakistan to confront a 21‑hour deadline for talks that span two decades of nuclear tension and new strategic concerns such as control of the Strait of Hormuz and U.S. compensation for past attacks.The United States responded with a delegation that included Vice‑President JD Vance and roughly 300 officials, signaling a recognition that Iran’s seasoned team—featuring figures like Ali Bagheri Kani and former chief negotiator Abbas Araghchi—was well‑prepared.During the marathon, Vance held multiple conversations with former President Donald Trump and, notably, with Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu. Iranian officials claimed the Netanyahu call hardened the U.S. stance, underscoring the delicate diplomatic balance.Veteran negotiators Robert Malley and Aaron David Miller warned that the time frame was either too long for a mere reiteration of rejected demands or far too short for genuine negotiation, highlighting a strategic misreading of Tehran’s position.Vance concluded the session by presenting what he described as a “best and final offer,” leaving the door open for further dialogue pending Iranian acceptance.Meanwhile, President Donald Trump signaled an intention to impose a blockade of the Strait of Hormuz—a move that could inflate global oil prices and further destabilize the region.Iran’s objectives included drafting a memorandum of understanding to extend a tentative ceasefire and address three core issues: an end to Israel’s offensive in Lebanon, a governance framework for Hormuz shipping, and the disposition of its highly enriched uranium stockpile, whether through UN‑supervised down‑blending or export to a third party.Vance emphasized the need for an affirmative Iranian commitment not to pursue a nuclear weapon or the rapid pathways to one, a demand that intersects with ongoing debates about Iran’s sovereign right to enrich uranium—a capability currently null after recent U.S. strikes.In practice, Iran is already exercising selective control over Hormuz traffic, allowing 2 million barrels of Iraqi oil and 4 million barrels of Saudi oil to pass, a tactic described by an Iranian parliamentarian as a “continuous atomic bomb” that provides strategic depth.Beyond the diplomatic impasse, Iran confronts severe domestic challenges: hyperinflation approaching triple‑digit levels, an internet blackout threatening economic activity, and a political climate marked by assassination threats. These pressures compound the difficulty of achieving a sustainable peace settlement.

Springtime in a typical British suburb is a chorus of birds, buzzing insects and the occasional rumble of a mini‑digger. While sparrows spar and tits clash over territory, a crew of contractors is often busy erasing hedges, bushes and trees, leaving behind a stark trench of bare earth. In one April afternoon, a once‑lush front garden was reduced to a skip full of uprooted branches and a strip of exposed soil. Despite the nation’s reputation as a garden‑loving society, the trend toward concrete is accelerating. An RHS audit published last year found that 42% of domestic garden space in the United Kingdom has been paved over, with timber fences replacing wild privet and driveways smothering mossy lawns. The loss is not merely aesthetic; it erodes habitats that support a remarkable share of the country’s wildlife. According to the Royal Horticultural Society, over 50% of Britain’s butterflies, amphibians and reptiles, and more than 40% of its bird and mammal species rely on garden habitats. The new David Attenborough series Secret Garden underscores this, describing urban gardens as “almost as diverse as a tropical rainforest.” Yet, as the series aired, another garden was being stripped to the ground, highlighting the tension between media‑driven reverence and on‑the‑ground reality. Socio‑economic factors compound the issue. One in eight households in the UK has no garden at all, and lower‑income families and ethnic minorities are disproportionately deprived of green space. Even owners of gardens often lack the time, money, or confidence to cultivate biodiverse oases, viewing gardening as a burdensome chore. Experts suggest a radical, yet simple, alternative: do nothing. Allowing dandelions, thistles, and stray grasses to flourish provides nectar for pollinators, while bare patches become nesting sites for bees and birds. Unraked leaves serve as winter shelters for insects, and dead stalks become food for aphids, which in turn feed higher‑up predators. The “negative space” of an untended garden can therefore become a hotbed of ecological activity. Conservationists argue that embracing this messiness could reverse the decline of urban biodiversity. As one commentator mused, “If Sir David Attenborough could return for a bonus episode, he might show us that a tangled, overgrown garden is not a failure but a vibrant ecosystem in its own right.” By Emma Beddington, 12 April 2026

Zappa Montag walks through a 76‑hectare (189‑acre) forest of redwoods, madrones and oaks that he co‑manages with five other Black residents at Black to the Land in Boonville, California. Powered by solar panels and supplied by a well, the off‑grid ecovillage embodies Montag’s goal to “reverse‑gentrify the country” by creating a self‑sufficient sanctuary for Black people. Intentional communities—small groups united by shared values—have long served Black and Indigenous peoples, ranging from urban co‑housing to rural ecovillages. In the post‑slavery era, tightly knit Black networks relied on mutual aid for business and farming, a tradition that is resurfacing in places like Alabama, Massachusetts and California as a way to revive ancestral agricultural knowledge. Montag and his daughter Bibi Sarai first imagined Black to the Land in 2015, frustrated by the rapid gentrification of Oakland. After a 2021 introduction to the declining Emerald Earth Sanctuary in Mendocino County, the nonprofit transferred stewardship of the property to their group through a verbal and written agreement. Montag describes the hand‑over as a form of reparations—instead of cash, they invest time learning land stewardship. Tragedy struck in February 2023 when Bibi Sarai died unexpectedly. Yet, reports that visitors felt uplifted after summer stays convinced Montag to stay permanently, turning grief into a catalyst for the community’s growth. Today, the community—members ranging from their late 20s to mid‑50s—funds land maintenance through grants, workshops and fundraising. They host classes on building, gardening and foraging, while some members work remotely to cover personal expenses. African plant‑medicine practitioners prepare herbal remedies, and a partnership with Ghanaian ecovillage leaders introduces natural‑building techniques. In addition to cultivating vegetables, the residents construct clay dwellings, practice yoga, and collectively manage chores such as fire‑wood gathering and trench‑building to prevent driveway flooding. Self‑reliance is the guiding principle, especially amid today’s economic uncertainty. The BIPOC Intentional Community Council, founded in 2020, supports Black and brown groups in establishing similar settlements by providing funding, nonprofit‑formation workshops and land‑trust guidance. Board member Crystal Byrd Farmer notes a growing “back‑to‑the‑land” movement as people seek rural roots. While mainstream media sometimes label intentional communities as radical, Farmer argues they echo millennial human practices of mutual support. Most U.S. intentional communities remain majority‑white due to historic capital access, leaving people of color to feel culturally alienated in those spaces. In Alabama, the Ekvn‑Yefolecv ecovillage—run by Indigenous Maskoke families—reclaimed 3,105 hectares (7,674 acres) of ancestral land. Governed matriarchally, residents speak their language daily, practice traditional foraging, reintroduce buffalo and sturgeon, and share land title, offering a model of ecological sustainability and cultural preservation. Massachusetts hosts the Solidarity Arts & Education Decolonial Initiatives (SAEDi) collective, a communal home for women of color that blends art, food sovereignty and reparations work. Rent is adjusted to ability, and members contribute childcare, meals and chores. Plans include a garden, orchard, and a “green residency” program that will archive elders’ agricultural stories online, aiming to boost security for immigrant families amid rising xenophobia. The modern roots of Black intentional living trace back to 1969’s New Communities in Georgia, a civil‑rights‑era farming settlement that pioneered the nation’s first community land trust. Although federal opposition led to its collapse, a 2009 $12 million settlement acknowledged USDA discrimination. Today, the organization runs workshops on land stewardship and mentors new generations of Black farmers. For Montag, the land also serves as a personal memorial. A clay bench honors his late daughter Bibi Sarai, allowing him to “connect with humanity” and keep her spirit alive. Future plans include grief‑focused rituals and a memorial garden, underscoring the belief that joy and healing are essential components of communal living. Increased security and safety Marginalized groups view intentional communities as safe havens for preserving cultural practices and passing knowledge to youth. Elders’ expertise is documented for future generations, reinforcing resilience against systemic oppression. Empowering collective action From the civil‑rights farms of Georgia to contemporary ecovillages in California and Alabama, these settlements illustrate how shared land ownership, communal labor and cultural affirmation can counter gentrification, foster economic independence, and nurture intergenerational healing.

Sting, the renowned musician, has returned to his roots in a new production of his musical The Last Ship, this time in Australia. The musical, which premiered in 2014, has been revitalized with new scenes, music, and updated characters. Sting takes on the leading role of foreman Jackie White, who navigates the threat of the shipyard's closure while grappling with his failing health. He is joined on stage by reggae icon Shaggy, who brings warmth to the role of the Wallsend Ferryman.The musical draws on Sting's personal experiences growing up in Wallsend, northern England, where the shipyard dominated the skyline. The story explores themes of mortality, labor, and identity, as well as the tension between tradition and progress. The shipyard becomes a symbol of a communal world built on shared pride and purpose. While the musical resonates with contemporary concerns around the erosion of secure work and the crucial power of collective action, it sometimes leans toward cloying sentimentality.The production features a striking and immersive set, designed by 59 Studio, with towering metal scaffolding and the imposing bow of a vessel. The digital projections blend seamlessly with the physical scenery, creating a unique and captivating visual experience. The cast, including Lauren Samuels and Joe Caffrey, delivers strong performances, with the choral moments being particularly powerful and moving.Despite some criticisms of a slow start and a rushed ending, The Last Ship remains a heartfelt and sincere production. Sting's performance is understated yet authentic, and Shaggy brings his signature charm to the role. The musical runs at the Queensland Performing Arts Centre's Glasshouse Theatre until May 3rd.

Rehab did not happen to Lena Dunham; she walked into it. The writer describes the moment she entered a stone‑manor facility in the Berkshires, Massachusetts, and was immediately asked to remove her designer shoes and answer mundane questions about her diet, a surreal welcome that felt like a college orientation—except many of the fellow residents struggled with IV heroin. She notes the unsettling blend of patients and staff, all dressed in ordinary clothes, making it impossible to tell who was who. A tattooed man in a Harley‑Davidson shirt turned out to be a sober companion, while a grandmother knitting in slippers battled a severe Benadryl addiction that had once ruined her daughter’s wedding. “Never judge a drug addict by their Patagonia half‑zip fleece,” she writes. Using the pseudonym “Rose O’Neill” – after the pioneering cartoonist – Dunham reflects on feeling trapped in a cycle reminiscent of the late‑career decline of the early 20th‑century artist. It was only after she allowed staff to use her real name that she began to reclaim her identity. Her therapist, Dr. Mark, a kindly man in khakis, asked her to articulate the root causes of her admission. Dunham linked her descent to chronic physical illness, relentless stress from supporting multiple families, hormonal turmoil after a hysterectomy, and a fraught romantic relationship. She also disclosed past sexual trauma, describing the rehab experience as “a fever dream” that echoed those memories. Medication played a paradoxical role. While Klonopin eased anxiety and Percocet dulled pain, the initial IV dose produced a euphoric “shiver through the whole body, better than any orgasm.” She acknowledges the temporary relief as a “pause button” that allowed her racing thoughts to quiet, yet also recognized the danger of dependence. Group sessions revealed complex dynamics. A fellow patient, Walter, breached confidentiality, prompting staff to enforce policy and send him home. The ensuing discussion divided the group, with some defending Walter’s lapse and others demanding accountability. Dunham’s own voice was subdued, emphasizing the tension between personal safety and collective responsibility. In a values‑mapping exercise, Dunham listed ART, FAMILY, MAKING PEOPLE FEEL SEEN as her core priorities, contrasting them with the values of the people she had surrounded herself with during active addiction. This exercise highlighted the stark misalignment between her aspirations and the environment she had inhabited. Despite the strict regimen, Dunham was granted a brief leave to attend the 2018 Met Gala. The decision sparked intense debate among staff about safety, yet she ultimately walked the red carpet, feeling “wan and haunted” amid flashing cameras and champagne she could not enjoy. The experience underscored the surreal juxtaposition of celebrity life and rehab recovery. During the final week, she formally identified as an addict and faced the pivotal question from Dr. Mark: “Do you want to be sober?” The answer marked a turning point, culminating in a moment of pure joy as she ran outdoors, feeling her legs move of their own accord. She closes with a vivid scene of spotting a robin’s egg on the grass, a simple yet profound reminder of life’s unexpected beauty. The memoir Famesick, published by Fourth Estate on 14 April, expands on these revelations and invites readers into the often‑hidden world of addiction behind the celebrity façade.

Zohran Mamdani celebrated his 100‑day anniversary as New York City’s mayor amid a backdrop of frigid crowds at City Hall and a historic milestone: the city filled 100,000 potholes in just over three months. The 32‑year‑old Democratic socialist, the first Muslim mayor of the United States’ wealthiest city, framed his early tenure as a test of whether a platform built on affordability could be translated into concrete governance. His administration’s headline achievement is the launch of a universal childcare initiative. Partnering with Governor Kathy Hochul, the mayor secured $1.2 billion from the state’s 2026 budget—funds drawn from existing revenue streams rather than new taxes—to add 2,000 daycare seats in low‑income neighborhoods. Sign‑ups for two‑year‑old slots will open in June, with allocations announced by August. “One in four New Yorkers lives in poverty, and after housing, childcare costs are pushing families out of the city,” Mamdani told Al Jazeera, underscoring the program’s role in curbing a citywide affordability crisis. Parallel to the childcare rollout, the mayor’s pothole‑filling campaign has become a symbolic win. By early April, crews had patched the 100,000th pothole, a move Mamdani described as proof that the city can handle “the smallest tasks in New Yorkers’ lives” before tackling larger challenges. However, the administration faces criticism on several fronts. Snowstorm responses earlier in the year exposed gaps in emergency planning, prompting Mamdani to acknowledge the need for better tools to manage “bus stops, sidewalks, and crosswalks.” A newly released cost‑of‑living index revealed that 62 % of New Yorkers cannot afford basic expenses, with families on average falling nearly $40,000 short of a sustainable budget. The burden is especially acute for communities of colour—77 % of Hispanic and 65 % of Black residents are financially strained. Fiscal conservatives, such as Manhattan Institute adjunct EJ Mahon, argue that New York already imposes the highest tax rates on millionaires in four decades, warning that further “tax‑the‑rich” rhetoric could drive wealth out of the city. Local commentator Aria Singer echoed this concern, suggesting that aggressive tax hikes might prompt billionaires to relocate, undermining job creation. Housing remains a central battleground. Rents have risen roughly 25 % since 2019, and while Mamdani’s proposal to freeze rents would affect only about half of the rental stock, his administration is pushing an aggressive construction agenda to increase supply and stimulate competition. Political dynamics add another layer of complexity. The mayor’s ability to raise taxes or fund ambitious projects hinges on Governor Hochul’s approval, as the city lacks autonomous authority over most tax levers. Moreover, initiatives like free city buses require cooperation with the state‑run Metropolitan Transit Authority (MTA). Strategist Adin Lenchner of Carroll Street Campaigns cautioned that sustained grassroots pressure will be essential for Mamdani to translate his agenda into lasting policy, noting that even former President Barack Obama struggled to maintain such momentum. Beyond policy, Mamdani has confronted a surge in xenophobic incidents targeting Jewish and Muslim communities, including a vehicle attack on a Brooklyn Jewish centre and an alleged ISIS‑inspired explosive device outside his Gracie Mansion residence. He condemned the violence, emphasizing that “such acts are antithetical to who we are.” As the 100‑day mark passes, the mayor’s focus has shifted from the symbolic cold of his inauguration to the practical heat of governing a city that demands tangible results. While potholes may seem minor, Mamdani argues they are a litmus test for public trust: “If we can’t fix the pothole you hit every day, how can you trust us with bigger challenges?”