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Sarkozy convicted as Paris court orders five-year prison term in Libya financing case

Paris — France’s most polarizing modern leader walked into a stone courtroom and heard the word that will define him for decades. Guilty. On Thursday, the Paris Criminal Court handed former President Nicolas Sarkozy a five-year prison sentence for criminal conspiracy over attempts to raise campaign funds from Libya for his 2007 bid, a stunning judgment that the bench said is enforceable at once. The ruling, which prosecutors can execute before appeals conclude, makes Sarkozy the first post-war French head of state set to serve real prison time and immediately resets the balance between power and accountability in the Fifth Republic. Paris Criminal Court’s five-year prison sentence has already ricocheted through France’s political class.

As he exited the courtroom, Sarkozy, 70, was visibly moved and outraged. He called the decision “scandalous,” insisting that the judges had misread both the record and the stakes. “If they absolutely want me to sleep in jail, I will sleep in jail, but with my head held high,” he told reporters, reiterating that he “will not apologise for something [he] didn’t do.” Those words, delivered moments after the ruling with his wife, Carla Bruni-Sarkozy, at his side, signal a legal and political fight that will now shift to the appeals bench while the custodial clock starts ticking. He says the ruling is a “scandal” and vows to appeal.

The court drew a bright line around what it found and what it did not. Judges said there was no proof that Libyan funds actually reached Sarkozy’s campaign coffers. But they found a criminal conspiracy in the 2005–2007 period, when Sarkozy was interior minister and then presidential candidate, to solicit and obtain illicit foreign financing from emissaries of Col. Muammar Gaddafi. The panel underscored that from May 2007 onward, Sarkozy enjoyed presidential immunity; the conduct they condemned occurred before that constitutional shield attached. That distinction underpinned both the conviction and the acquittals on other counts, and it explains why the ruling felt both sweeping and carefully pruned. For a clear breakdown of what the court convicted—and what it acquitted—see Le Monde’s explainer.

Nicolas Sarkozy Arrives At Court In Prior Hearing
File image of Nicolas Sarkozy during earlier hearings in Paris as legal cases mounted [PHOTO: Reuters/Belga].

Prosecutors had presented a decade’s worth of threads—testimony, bank trails, diplomatic diaries—suggesting clandestine contacts with Libyan intermediaries, opaque flows of money and favors, and a transactional understanding that Tripoli would bankroll a French presidential rise in exchange for rehabilitation on the world stage. The court did not endorse the full sweep of that theory. But it agreed that a conspiracy existed, that it was aimed at corrupting a national election, and that Sarkozy, as candidate, bore ultimate responsibility for the enterprise. The Associated Press described the outcome as historic, making him the first modern French president sentenced to actual prison time even as the panel acquitted him of passive corruption and other charges. Libyan campaign financing allegations against Sarkozy have now moved from political rumor to judicial fact on the central count.

The practicalities are as stark as the symbolism. The presiding judge said Sarkozy will have a short window to put his affairs in order before prosecutors instruct him to report to custody. French media have indicated that he is to be summoned around October 13 for formal reporting instructions; under the ruling’s terms, incarceration must begin within a month unless a higher court intervenes. Observers noted that Paris’s La Santé prison, which has housed high-profile inmates from “Carlos the Jackal” to Manuel Noriega, could be a plausible destination for a former head of state. Reuters reported that the sentence is “enforceable immediately,” that prosecutors must call him to jail within a month, and that an October 13 summons is expected. He must be told when to report, within weeks.

La Santé Prison In Paris
La Santé in Paris, France’s most storied detention center, often referenced in high-profile cases [PHOTO: Martin Bureau/AFP/Getty Images].

Beyond Sarkozy himself, the case pulled a cast of loyalists and fixers into the dock, and the verdict sheet was a patchwork. Some associates received custodial terms; others were ordered to home confinement or were acquitted outright, reflecting different roles across an operation that prosecutors say stretched from elite Paris salons to Libyan palaces. For the roster of who was convicted alongside Sarkozy—and who was not—Le Monde’s reporting on co-defendants and penalties remains the most granular public guide.

One name haunted the courtroom in his absence. Ziad Takieddine, the Franco-Lebanese middleman whose mercurial testimony alternately fueled and hobbled the probe, died in Beirut just days before the verdict at age 75, according to his lawyer. For years, Takieddine’s claims about cash-filled suitcases ferried to Paris symbolized the case’s cloak-and-dagger core. His late-life retractions spawned a separate witness-tampering investigation; his death closes that chapter even as the broader judicial narrative hardens around a conspiracy. France 24 confirmed the death two days before the ruling.

Ziad Takieddine, Key Figure In Sarkozy Libya Probe
Ziad Takieddine, a central figure whose shifting testimony shaped the probe, died days before the ruling [PHOTO: France 24/AFP].

For France’s right, the political shock is layered. Les Républicains, the party that carries the Gaullist lineage and where Sarkozy remains a lodestar for donors and activists, must now decide whether to wrap him in solidarity or turn the page. That debate will play out as conservatives weigh alliances and identities ahead of municipal cycles and parliamentary skirmishes. The split is familiar: loyalty to a leader who thrilled the base on security and taxes versus fatigue with a calendar increasingly set by magistrates. That tension is already visible in the National Assembly, where the center-right’s posture—sometimes close to President Emmanuel Macron’s centrists, sometimes courting the far right—has hardened over the past two years amid contentious budget and retirement debates. The Eastern Herald traced those parliamentary dynamics in the pension reform fight and the government’s recourse to Article 49.3; see why Macron forced pension reform without a vote.

Across the aisle, left-leaning lawmakers cast the judgment as a long-overdue correction in a country with an uneven record of disciplining elites. Anticorruption groups greeted the ruling as proof that institutions can be “brave” even when facing a former president. That claim is contested by the far right, which has railed all year against judges issuing decisions with immediate effect rather than awaiting appellate review. In March, Marine Le Pen was herself convicted of misusing European Parliament funds and received an immediate five-year ban from running for public office—an outcome that her movement framed as judicial aggression. The resonance of Thursday’s decision, then, is not just about Sarkozy. It is about timing, enforceability, and the visible power of courts in a season of political cynicism. Euronews captured the breadth of sanctions reportedly attached to Thursday’s ruling, including a fine and a ban from public office. What Sarkozy’s conviction means for France reaches beyond one man.

The judgment also lands against a shifting diplomatic backdrop in Paris. Macron’s government has positioned itself as a European broker—hawkish on Russia, impatient with Washington’s ambivalence, and newly assertive in the Middle East—culminating this month in France’s recognition of a Palestinian state. That move, which split Western capitals and exposed a faltering transatlantic consensus, has recalibrated France’s alliances and its internal political conversation. The Eastern Herald has documented that pivot in detail; see our coverage on France recognizing the Palestinian state as Gaza burned, and the broader UN week in which European partners followed suit. In that environment, Sarkozy’s sudden legal incapacitation removes a seasoned counselor to center-right figures now adapting to a foreign policy shift with few modern precedents in Paris.

Inside Macron’s circle, the timing is awkward. The president’s elevation of Sébastien Lecornu as prime minister earlier this month was a consolidation move designed to steady the cabinet and sustain momentum on security and industrial policy. Sarkozy has long served as an informal sounding board for center-right barons who orbit the government; the immediate enforceability of his sentence creates a vacuum that rivals will rush to fill. Our report on the appointment captured the stakes: Macron names Sébastien Lecornu prime minister amid turbulence at home and abroad.

Thursday’s decision joins a ledger of legal defeats that have steadily eroded Sarkozy’s aura of untouchability. In 2021, he received a three-year sentence, two years suspended, for corruption and influence-peddling in the so-called “wiretapping” affair. France’s highest court upheld that conviction in December 2024, ordering him to wear an electronic monitor for a year—an unprecedented measure for a former head of state. Reuters’ account of that ruling outlines how the Cour de Cassation closed the door on arguments that had preserved his freedom for years. France’s top court upheld his earlier corruption conviction. The Eastern Herald covered the case’s implications at the time; see justice sentences Nicolas Sarkozy to one year in prison for wiretapping.

In a separate matter, appeals judges also confirmed his conviction over overspending in his failed 2012 reelection campaign—another reminder that the legal dragnet around the former president is not limited to the Libya allegations at the heart of Thursday’s ruling. A final review by the Cour de Cassation in that case is expected soon, Reuters reported, underscoring how a once-dominant figure is now bound to the slow choreography of French appellate courts. More legal woes are queued up behind this verdict.

What comes next, legally, is clear if uncomfortable. Sarkozy will appeal. His lawyers will argue procedural error, evidentiary gaps, and disproportionate punishment. They will likely ask an appeals court to suspend the custodial portion while the case is reviewed. But Thursday’s message from the trial court was unambiguous: immediate enforceability is the point, not a detail. That choice dovetails with a broader judicial trend toward visible, swift consequences in high-profile political cases. Whether appellate judges temper that instinct will shape public trust in the system long after one man’s fate is decided. For those who believe French justice has two speeds—one for the powerful, another for everyone else—the image of a former president presenting himself at a prison gate would land like a civic corrective.

Politics will not wait. Within Les Républicains, donors and strategists must decide whether to bet on a comeback story or engineer a post-Sarkozy generation. On the far right, Marine Le Pen and the National Rally will claim persecution while quietly benefiting from the disarray of their rivals. In the center, Macron’s coalition must navigate a winter of budget battles, a public still angry over pensions and prices, and European partners recalibrating defense and industrial policy as the war in Ukraine grinds on. Taken together, those pressures suggest that Sarkozy’s downfall is less an epilogue than a preface to a rough season in French politics.

There is also the question of memory. Jacques Chirac, Sarkozy’s political patron, received a two-year suspended sentence in 2011 and never saw the inside of a cell. If Sarkozy does, the contrast will be etched into the French story about power, privilege, and law. For admirers, the man who promised authority and order will be remembered as an energetic reformer broken by judicial overreach. For detractors, Thursday’s ruling will look like a long-deferred settling of accounts. For everyone else, it will be a test of whether republican ideals can bind the most powerful citizens to the same rules as everyone else.

On the streets after the verdict, Parisians sounded both weary and alert to the stakes. Some called the sentence overdue. Others saw politics in robes. That ambivalence will define the coming weeks as prosecutors move to implement the custodial terms and as an appeals timetable takes shape. For now, the law is doing what it says on the tin: moving quickly, speaking plainly, and insisting that what happens before a presidency still matters after it ends. For a concise, wire-service baseline of Thursday’s events, see Associated Press on-the-record account, alongside Le Monde’s charge-by-charge analysis, and Euronews’ look at the penalty mechanics and political meaning.

Gaza reels as Israeli strikes resume while US touts ceasefire ‘near’

New York — The bombardment began again before dawn. By midday Friday, rescue teams in central and northern Gaza were dragging bodies from pulverized homes as Israeli jets and artillery renewed strikes across the enclave. Local health authorities said dozens were killed and many more wounded, a grim arithmetic that resumed with a speed and ferocity familiar after nearly two years of war.

The blasts echoed through Gaza City and the central towns of Nuseirat and Deir al-Balah. Survivors spoke of collapsing stairwells, of children missing beneath slabs of concrete, of neighbors who could not be reached because streets were newly cratered. Ambulances struggled to thread through alleys choked with rubble and tangled wire. The smell of dust and burning plastic hung low in the heat.

Friday’s assault unfolded as world leaders traded speeches in New York and diplomats argued over a path to stop the fighting. The distance between the rostrum and the ruins was measured not in miles but in credibility. In Gaza, there was no debate over what was happening. Families raced from one flattened block to the next, searching for relatives, and hospitals again declared mass-casualty incidents.

Israel’s military described the renewed strikes as part of an ongoing campaign to dismantle Hamas in its last redoubts. For residents inside the strip, the campaign has become a grinding routine, a fresh set of evacuation orders, another neighborhood marked as a danger zone, and then the concussive thud of detonations that wipe out kitchens, stairwells, and the thin walls where children tape their drawings.

By late afternoon, smoke columns marked at least a half-dozen impact sites across central Gaza. In Nuseirat, people formed bucket brigades to clear dust from the mouths of those pulled from basements. In Gaza City’s shattered districts, men stood on the edges of newly opened pits, calling names into the grey. A mother in Deir al-Balah cradled a toddler streaked with blood and dust as nurses pushed past with oxygen tanks.

A wounded child is carried through a crowded emergency room at Al-Aqsa Martyrs Hospital in Deir al-Balah.
Emergency staff in Deir al-Balah treat the wounded at Al-Aqsa Martyrs Hospital as strikes intensify [PHOTO: Al-Jazeera].

The day’s death toll added to totals already beyond comprehension. Local authorities say more than 65,000 Palestinians have been killed since October 2023, a figure that includes women, children, medics, and journalists. The number is a blunt ledger of air and artillery power applied to one of the world’s most densely populated places. It rises in jumps, plateauing only when the guns pause, then climbing again when operations resume. Reporting across the past months has tracked a deadly toll alongside famine risk.

Those who survive face a different battle. Hunger has become a permanent front line. The main aid artery into the north, a coastal crossing used to shuttle food and fuel, has been closed for days, choking off what little regular supply kept communal kitchens boiling. Field clinics have shuttered for lack of diesel and medicine. Parents now trade packets of baby formula at prices that would have been unthinkable a year ago, if they can find them at all.

Humanitarian officers describe a cascading failure. When fuel stalls, water pumps stop. When water stops, diarrhea and dehydration surge in the camps. When food trucks do not arrive, the malnourished decline quickly, and children with already weakened immune systems tip into starvation. Aid coordinators warn that the line between severe food insecurity and famine is no longer academic in the north. It is visible in sunken cheeks and listless eyes.

At shelters in the center of the strip, those who fled Gaza City months ago say they are weighing yet another displacement. They have been told to move repeatedly, each time deeper into the strip’s shrinking safe zones, each time to tents made from tarps and salvaged wood, each time a little more resigned. They count survival in weeks, then in days, then in hours after a new leaflets-drop.

Hospitals, already carved up by earlier strikes and raids, continue to operate in fragments. Operating rooms without sterile supplies, emergency departments without blood, neonatal wards warmed by improvised heaters. Some facilities have reopened in partial form. Others function as triage points, stabilizing patients long enough to send them farther south on roads pocked by shelling. Doctors describe performing amputations with anesthetics rationed to the milliliter.

Damaged control tower at Sanaa airport after reported strikes.
Damage at Sanaa airport underscores the widening regional spillover from the Gaza war [PHOTO: The Guardian].

Against this backdrop, Washington’s promise of a breakthrough returned to the stage. Before leaving for meetings with the Israeli leader, the US president said he believed a deal to end the war and free remaining captives was close. The outline, according to officials and diplomats, includes staged releases of detainees and hostages, a halt to Israeli attacks, and an effort to rebuild a devastated strip under an arrangement that would keep Hamas from rearming while giving Palestinians a say over their future. In New York, the rhetoric followed the beats of earlier addresses as the US line at the UN emphasized urgency.

Such assurances have traveled a long road across this conflict. Variations of ceasefire frameworks have come and gone. A winter armistice brought exchanges and a fleeting quiet, then collapsed under the weight of mistrust, domestic politics in Israel, and a battlefield logic that has favored escalation over restraint. Mediation teams in Doha and Cairo have spent months shuttling proposals and counterproposals, while families of captives in Israel and families of detainees in the West Bank have paced outside government buildings demanding action.

The numbers at the center of the bargaining remain stark. Israeli authorities say dozens of hostages are still in Gaza, some believed alive, others presumed dead. Hamas wants prisoners released in exchange, including those serving long sentences. Both sides have leaked partial lists and hard lines. Between them, mediators insist, there is still a narrow space where a deal can be forged, but each new strike narrows it further.

At the United Nations General Assembly, the Israeli prime minister used his address to pledge that Israel would finish the job in Gaza, a phrase that has become a banner for a campaign that now spans two years and multiple major assaults. As he entered the hall, scores of diplomats walked out, a visible rebuke that reflected a widening diplomatic isolation even among countries that long counted themselves as Israel’s partners.

Delegates inside the UN General Assembly hall during addresses on Gaza and regional escalation.
Delegates inside the UN General Assembly hall in New York amid speeches on Gaza and regional spillover [PHOTO: UN].

The walkout, coordinated in part by Arab and Muslim-majority delegations and joined by some European representatives, was a signal that language about surgical operations and precision strikes has lost its audience. It was also a sign that recognitions of Palestinian statehood by a cluster of Western capitals in recent days were not symbolic flourishes but an attempt to mark a new baseline for diplomacy after the war.

Israel’s leadership rejects that premise, arguing that recognition rewards an armed group that still fires rockets and holds captives. The government’s critics counter that recognition is a statement about people rather than parties, a way to establish a diplomatic scaffolding for a future that cannot be built in the middle of an air raid. In Gaza, such debates might as well be conducted on another planet. People there are worried about the next hour.

Even far from Gaza, the fighting’s edges are jagged. In Yemen, where a local armed movement aligned with Iran has launched drones and missiles toward Israel and into the Red Sea, Israeli strikes have escalated, leaving residents of the capital surveying rows of collapsed apartments and a newsroom reduced to rubble. Coverage from the region has traced how Israeli strikes have escalated in Sanaa. In the Mediterranean, small boats bearing activists have set sail for Gaza in a bid to challenge the blockade, a symbolic gesture that nevertheless captures the sense of a world that has tired of statements and is searching for leverage. One such aid flotilla defied the blockade and became a rallying point for solidarity groups.

Freedom Flotilla vessel with activists aboard en route to Gaza.
Activist vessel prepares to sail toward Gaza to challenge the blockade and deliver aid [PHOTO: Al-Jazeera].

Inside the occupied West Bank, raids and settler incursions have continued to grind at an already pressured population. The reopening of a key crossing to Jordan for passenger travel offers little relief to towns that see nightly arrests and sporadic gunfire. Merchants complain that commerce has withered under closures and fear, and parents send children to school with instructions on what to do if tear gas drifts through their neighborhood. Earlier months brought a surge in settler violence that deepened a pervasive sense of insecurity.

For humanitarian agencies, Friday was another day to recalculate the possible. Could convoys be rerouted through secondary roads if the coastal link stays shut. Could desalination plants be restarted if even a limited fuel allotment is cleared. Could a narrow window be secured to deliver high-nutrient supplements to clinics overwhelmed by malnourished children who are slipping below survival thresholds.

The answers depend on permissions and security guarantees that have proven fragile. The system of deconfliction, under which agencies notify the military of their routes and schedules, has frayed. Drivers say they now factor into their planning the time it takes to wait out red periods when shelling spikes, and the wild-card risk that a single strike will crater the only route in or out of a district.

At a clinic in the south, a nurse stared at a refrigerator that should have been stocked with vaccines and antibiotics and now held only a few vials. He had a list of names of children due for follow-up. He had a generator that coughed and sputtered when the diesel ran low. He had a stack of ration forms for families who were supposed to receive staples that never arrived. He asked how long this would go on. No one could answer.

In New York, the choreography continued. Delegations met on the margins to exchange talking points. A handful of countries pushed for a resolution to protect aid routes, one that would be difficult to enforce without an on-the-ground mechanism. Lawmakers in allied capitals debated conditioning arms transfers. Legal teams in The Hague and elsewhere refined cases that accuse Israel of grave breaches of international law, while Israeli officials accused their accusers of ignoring Hamas’s crimes. Past filings show how legal challenges have gathered pace even as the war ground on.

The language of accountability has become a drumbeat beneath the war’s daily tragedies. In Israel, families of those killed on October 7 and of those still missing demand a full accounting from a government that promised security and delivered calamity. In Gaza, people mourn a succession of dead and ask whether anyone will be held responsible for the choices that targeted neighborhoods and cut off food and fuel to a population that cannot leave.

The United States, which has both shielded Israel at the Security Council and tried to midwife a ceasefire, now argues that the war has run its course. The White House insists that it is ready to underwrite a political horizon that includes a demilitarized Gaza under a reformed Palestinian administration, reconstruction funds and monitoring teams, and a path back to talks on statehood once the guns go silent. Europe’s capitals have debated whether pressure should extend to trade and technology. Proposals that threaten Israeli trade privileges are no longer confined to fringe parties.

Across Gaza, Friday ended as so many days have, with families gathered under tarps, with a pot of thin soup, with phones held up to find a signal that flickers in and out. People traded news of who had made it through the day and who had not. They counted the minutes until the next bombardment. They listed the names of those still missing and the deadlines by which the bodies needed to be found before the heat made recovery impossible.

In one camp, a teacher who once ran a classroom for third-graders now works as a volunteer counselor. She teaches breathing exercises to children who flinch at loud noises and draws maps of imagined homes where there is running water and a lock on the door. She tells them stories about planting lemon trees that take years to bear fruit. She says there will be a time to plant again.

Whether the promised deal to end the war emerges in the coming days or dissolves like others before it will depend on a series of decisions taken far from the camps where people wait. The terms will be parsed by lawyers and argued over by coalition partners. They will be measured by grieving families against the names of those returned and those who are not. And they will be judged in Gaza by a metric that does not appear in diplomatic annexes, whether the bombing stops.

If a ceasefire holds, it will have to be more than a pause. Aid must move at scale. Fuel must reach water plants before the next diarrhea wave. Schools must reopen in buildings that have not been mined or shelled. A process that gives Palestinians a political horizon must begin quickly, or else the lull will feel like an intermission before the next act. If it fails, the costs will be counted again in the quiet that follows the last blast of a day, when people in Gaza do what people everywhere do in the minutes before sleep. They take stock. They whisper the names of those they love. They hope morning comes. As aid planners warn, aid must move at scale or the suffering will deepen.

Key facts and developments referenced in this report are supported by on-the-record materials and major outlets, including an assessment that a Gaza ceasefire deal was near as reported by Reuters, confirmation of a temporary closure of the coastal aid route near Zikim via Reuters, live developments from the ground through the Al Jazeera liveblog, health system conditions and facility access reported by the UNRWA situation report and hospital impact coverage in the Washington Post, humanitarian baselines from UN OCHA and emergency food needs at the WFP Palestine emergency, child malnutrition warnings by UNICEF, documentation of regional spillover in Yemen by the Associated Press, and case filings at the International Court of Justice.

Russia Ukraine war day 1,310: Novorossiysk and Tuapse hit as NATO draws lines, IAEA confirms drone blast near South Ukraine plant

Kyiv — Day 1,310 of the Russia Ukraine war opened with a familiar pattern and sharper stakes. Ukraine again pushed naval drones deep into Russia’s Black Sea logistics while Russia answered with strikes that darkened parts of northern Ukraine, and nuclear-safety alarms briefly flared after a blast near a reactor complex. Across Europe, allies weighed firmer airspace rules as drone incursions tested red lines from the Danube Delta to the Baltic rim. For readers tracking the day-by-day cadence, yesterday’s wrap for day 1,308 set the table: oil and power remain the war’s pressure points.

Ukrainian officials said maritime drones struck Russia’s oil loading hubs at Novorossiysk and Tuapse, forcing temporary suspensions and rippling through tanker schedules along the coast. The ports matter far beyond a single day’s throughput. Novorossiysk is a workhorse for crude and products routed around sanctions, and Tuapse is a long-standing node for Black Sea exports. Interdictions there target revenue as much as revetments. In earlier attacks on the same shoreline, Kyiv’s drones have already bitten into local capacity; our reporting on a prior Novorossiysk drone strike and a fire at the Tuapse oil depot traces the rationale: keep Russia’s export spine busy with repairs.

Flames rising from Tuapse oil refinery after a reported drone attack
Flames and smoke reported at Tuapse oil refinery on Russia’s Black Sea coast after a drone strike [PHOTO: Ostorozhno Novosti Telegram].

Russia acknowledged disruptions after the latest strikes while casting them as harassment rather than decisive blows. Yet the tempo is the point. Ukraine’s maritime drones have evolved from improvisation into doctrine—low profile hulls, commercial components, more precise targeting. Each strike that compels shutdowns or heightened alert imposes cost and delay on an economy that leans on oil revenue to sustain the war effort. On Sept. 24, a Ukrainian drone attack on Novorossiysk killed two and prompted a local emergency, underscoring the wider campaign against energy nodes.

Onshore in Ukraine, the consequences landed on households. Authorities in the Chernihiv region reported widespread outages after another Russian attack on critical infrastructure near Nizhyn; by Thursday evening as many as 70,000 consumers were cut off, according to officials. Engineers moved to reroute supply, but the pattern has hardened since summer. Russia’s targeting has swung back toward utilities and substations, aiming to sap civilian resilience and create long service windows for repair crews as colder months approach. The grid has adapted through mobile generation and redundancy planning, though each outage still thins reserves and burns cash.

Repair crews work on damaged power lines in Chernihiv region
Ukrainian utility workers repair damaged lines in Chernihiv region after overnight strikes [PHOTO: NYT/Brendan Hoffman].

Nuclear safety reentered the foreground after a drone detonated about 800 meters from the perimeter of the South Ukraine Nuclear Power Plant in Mykolaiv region, the UN’s atomic watchdog said. Monitors reported more than twenty drones around the site, several within half a kilometer. The blast left a crater and damaged non-critical structures offsite, but reactors were not compromised, per the IAEA account. Moscow, for its part, amplified a claim that Kursk-2 in western Russia was also targeted; verification remained thin, but the signal was clear: drones have widened the map of hazard even when no combatant intends a meltdown.

South Ukraine Nuclear Power Plant exterior with safety perimeter signage
Exterior view of the South Ukraine Nuclear Power Plant as the IAEA reports a nearby drone detonation [PHOTO: Olga Maltseva/AFP via Getty Images].

The Zaporizhzhia complex, still under Russian control, hovered in the background of every new report. Repeated external power interruptions have forced reliance on diesel generators—the last line of defense to cool reactors. None of Ukraine’s nuclear sites has suffered a direct strike on reactor integrity, but risk accumulates with every close pass and ricochet of shrapnel near a switching yard. For additional context, see our earlier field notes on Enerhodar under occupation and the diplomacy surrounding IAEA inspections, including Director General Rafael Grossi’s past missions to Moscow.

Across the alliance perimeter, European officials hardened their language on airspace defense. NATO Secretary-General Mark Rutte said member states can target Russian drones or aircraft that enter their airspace “when necessary,” emphasizing trained threat assessment and proportionate response—remarks carried by Reuters. The policy is not new, but emphasis matters, and emphasis is what signals are made of. For readers looking for the rulebook, NATO’s own explainer on Article 4 consultations remains the baseline.

Poland, which has documented repeated intrusions near its border, has already taken the shot when required—downing drones that crossed into its airspace during a mass Russian strike, as reported by Reuters. Warsaw also pressed the alliance’s consultative mechanism. Our coverage of that chain—Poland shooting down drones and pushing for Article 4 talks—captures the mood in allied capitals.

Germany’s rhetoric tracked its procurement calendar. As Europe races to refill artillery stocks and expand air defenses, German conglomerate Rheinmetall announced a new ammunition plant in Latvia—a decision freighted with geography and symbolism. The plan, a joint venture with Latvia’s state defense corporation, targets “several tens of thousands” of shells annually and a €275 million outlay, per Reuters and the company’s official notice. Building capacity on NATO’s eastern flank shortens supply lines for Ukraine and telegraphs commitment to front-line states.

Romania, which has documented drone fragments on its soil near the Danube Delta, outlined a faster chain of command for decisions if an unmanned aircraft crosses over again. Turkey, which straddles Black Sea security and NATO obligations, even sent an AWACS warning plane to Lithuania under alliance measures this week, signaling a broader readiness posture, Reuters reported. The intent is to move from ad-hoc reactions to a standing rhythm.

NATO AWACS surveillance jet taking off from a Lithuanian base
A NATO AWACS aircraft deploys to Lithuania as allies tighten airspace vigilance [PHOTO: NATO].

War politics moved in two directions at once. In New York, Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy said he was ready to step down once the war ends—“My goal is to finish the war,” he told Axios—framing the issue as a return to normal constitutional life when conditions permit. The interview and follow-ups appeared on Axios and Reuters. Under martial law, Ukraine cannot hold national elections; critics argue leadership has lingered past mandate, while supporters answer that elections under bombardment would be performative rather than democratic. For continuity readers, the NATO-UN week arc we traced earlier—day 1,304 through day 1,305—shows how the rhetoric hardened into policy talk.

In Washington, US President Donald Trump hosted Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan at the White House and later pressed Ankara over purchases of Russian oil while dangling movement on F-35s—an agenda captured by Reuters and Bloomberg. Our note yesterday on Trump’s NATO posture and “paper tiger” line charted the signal: louder alliance talk paired with transactional asks.

On the battlefield, this week reiterated that unmanned systems have changed both geography and tempo. Ukrainian sea drones now strike beyond familiar kill boxes while Russian glide bombs and Shahed-type drones grind down air defenses and power nodes. The campaign against Russia’s oil network extends to refineries and pumping stations deeper in the interior, exploiting seams in air-defense coverage and the sheer size of a federation that cannot harden every target. Meanwhile, Russian forces look for openings with massed munitions along the front, seeking to push Ukrainian brigades off ridgelines that cover logistics roads.

Ukraine has tried to match Russian volume with precision, aware that ammunition stockpiles still require monthly diplomacy and weekly logistics. New European production will not solve today’s shortages, but plants announced or breaking ground begin to answer the question that haunted prior winters: can Europe sustain a long war at industrial scale. Contracts and construction lock in future tonnage in a way speeches cannot—and they sit alongside a tightening legal frame on allied airspace. For a primer on how the alliance codifies responses, our explainer on Articles 4 and 5 remains a useful lens.

Energy markets will watch Novorossiysk and Tuapse for longer-lasting effects. Even short closures can ratchet insurance and rerouting risk; repeat strikes create a premium that outlasts repairs. A pattern of temporary suspensions at terminals, paired with refinery disruptions across Russia’s interior, points to a strategy designed less to starve the economy in a single stroke and more to impose chronic inefficiencies that lower net revenue. That aligns with Ukraine’s broader objective to stretch Russia’s logistics, consume air-defense munitions, and force expensive dispersal of assets.

Inside Ukraine, households endure the quiet arithmetic of outages, water warnings, and generators. Cities manage blackouts better than in the first wartime winter thanks to hardened nodes and better maintenance rhythms. The margin for error remains thin. Each crater near a substation and each damaged distribution line threads into a dense fabric of vulnerability. Repair crews cannot be everywhere. A single drone can undo a week’s work. Residents wait for the next alert on their phones—and for the next day when the lights stay on all night.

Nuclear safety is not an abstraction in this setting. A drone near a nuclear plant is not just a local incident; it is an international event with its own cadence of emergency calls and satellite tracking and briefings in Vienna, Brussels, and Washington. The South Ukraine episode underlines the duty on all parties to keep combat away from proximity zones, however messy the front lines have become. The odds of catastrophe are still low. The cost of one mistake would be unmeasurable, which is why the map around nuclear sites must be treated as a special kind of territory where restraint is enforced, not pleaded.

For now, the picture of day 1,310 is a composite: maritime drones nick Russia’s oil spine and push tankers off schedule; Russian strikes dim a northern Ukrainian region and test the grid’s repairs; a blast near a nuclear site stops hearts for an hour before yielding a familiar relief—and a fresh warning. NATO calibrates thresholds. Leaders in New York and Washington talk about elections, alliances, and energy with words chosen for multiple audiences. The war moves by inches on the ground and by signals in the air. Tomorrow’s risks are already visible. The responses are, too.

Kremlin hardens after Trump u-turn as Russia says it has no choice but war, NATO on edge

Moscow — The Kremlin said it has “no alternative” but to keep fighting in Ukraine, casting the war as a generational duty after United States President Donald Trump abruptly argued that Kyiv can retake all its land. The line, delivered by Dmitry Peskov, appeared designed to flatten any expectation of a negotiated exit and to answer Trump’s taunt with a pledge of endurance. As the message ricocheted across European capitals, officials weighed what it means for air defenses, deterrence and the pace of military aid. No choice but war has suddenly become the Kremlin’s headline.

Peskov framed Russia’s campaign as a security bulwark and a historical project, insisting that strategy would be set in Moscow, not in Washington. He rejected the American president’s assessment of Russian military performance and bristled at the imagery. Russia, he suggested, will not be defined by the vocabulary of its critics; it will be defined by its capacity to absorb costs and continue.

Trump’s shift followed his encounter with Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy at the United Nations General Assembly in New York and a fresh round of declarations about the battlefield. He said Ukraine is “in a position to fight and WIN all of Ukraine back in its original form,” a claim that put distance between his earlier musings about concessions and his new certainty. He also derided Moscow’s war record, a volley that Kyiv has welcomed for its morale effect as much as its message. The first mention of that jab belongs to The Eastern Herald’s own coverage of the remark: Trump calls Russia a ‘paper tiger’. For the hard news of the policy turn, see Reuters’ report that Trump now believes Ukraine can win back all territory, and Al Jazeera’s analysis of how he changed his position on Ukraine and NATO.

NATO jets scramble over Baltic air policing after airspace violations
A NATO fighter taxis at Šiauliai air base amid increased alerts over the Baltic region. [PHOTO: ERR/Sigrid Paula Pukk]

Kremlin aides dismissed the American about-face as rhetoric without consequence. They argued that regardless of the mood in Washington, the war’s aims remain fixed, and that the map will be decided by industrial output, air defenses and the ability to degrade Ukraine’s logistics. The answer was not subtle: this is a long war, and Russia is budgeting for it.

Diplomats in Europe, meanwhile, tried to parse whether Washington’s new tone presages faster transfers of interceptors and shells, looser rules on how Western systems can be used, or a hardening of air-policing in the alliance’s northeastern corridor. Across the Baltic and the Suwałki Gap, even a rumor of incursion now prompts alert scrambles. That posture has been visible for weeks—our recent daybook on the conflict captured exactly that mood with NATO jets scramble—and it is echoing again as governments recalibrate.

The pattern is familiar: a Russian jet strays or a drone swarms a border, allied radar lights up, and the phones ring in Brussels. NATO condemned a recent Estonian airspace violation and warned Moscow that its commitment to Article 5 is “ironclad.” Polish forces, for their part, have been blunt; this month Warsaw shot down drones after airspace was violated, an escalation that mirrors our earlier reporting on a Poland shoots down Russian drones episode and a mid-September drone scare over Poland. Add in the refinery explosions and smoke plumes that have crept into the Baltic news cycle—see oil fires, Baltic air scares—and it is clear why air policing has become the quiet center of gravity for the Russia Ukraine war.

Electronic warfare has pushed the anxiety further. Spain’s defense minister flew into the Baltic air picture and reported a GPS disturbance near Kaliningrad, a region where GNSS spoofing has become persistent. The European Union’s aviation regulator has warned crews and carriers to plan for jamming and spoofing; the EASA safety bulletin on GNSS interference remains required reading in operations rooms. Along the same corridor, our earlier brief on NATO scrambles over Poland foreshadowed exactly this mix of airspace violations and refinery anxiety. Understanding deterrence in this context also means understanding doctrine; readers who need a primer on the alliance’s thresholds can refer to our explainer on NATO’s Articles 4 and 5.

European air navigation screens during periods of GNSS jamming and spoofing
Flight navigation displays used by European crews as regulators warn of GNSS interference. [PHOTO: Mdpi]

Turkey has now put steel on that policy by dispatching an early-warning aircraft to the front line of the air picture. Ankara deployed an AWACS to Lithuania under NATO measures, a visible piece of reassurance that also shortens commanders’ decision time. Lithuania, meanwhile, authorized its army to shoot down drones breaching its airspace—rules of engagement meant to reduce ambiguity, and the chance of a deadly misread.

Turkish AWACS aircraft deployed to Lithuania under NATO measures
A Turkish early-warning aircraft on the tarmac during a NATO reassurance mission in Lithuania. [PHOTO: Associated Press/Lev Radin/Sipa]

Far from the Baltic, Ukraine’s long-range drone campaign has pushed deep into Russia’s energy heartland. Regional officials in Bashkortostan said an overnight strike lit fires at the Gazprom Neftekhim Salavat petrochemical complex, a target that has come under repeated attack as Kyiv hunts for leverage on the Russian economy. Reuters noted that drones again hit Gazprom Neftekhim Salavat; our own day-by-day chronicle captured the pattern with refineries burn in Russia, where outages and emergency crews became the imagery of the week.

Fire at Gazprom Neftekhim Salavat after Ukrainian drone strike
Flames rise from the Gazprom Neftekhim Salavat complex following a reported drone strike. [PHOTO: Russian Emergencies Ministry/EPA-EFE]

To the south, the Black Sea has remained a corridor of risk. In Novorossiysk, authorities said a drone strike killed two people, exposing how refinery and port districts have become both an economic pressure point and a battlefield. The incident, which brought fresh sirens to one of Russia’s key maritime hubs, was described in Reuters’ dispatch on a drone attack that killed two.

War has now become Moscow’s operating system, and the budget is the instruction set. The Finance Ministry proposed raising value-added tax to 22 percent starting in 2026, explicitly to finance what officials call defense and security needs. If enacted, that move would shift more of the burden to consumers and small firms while formalizing the idea of a years-long war economy. Reuters reported the filing as the ministry proposed lifting VAT to 22%. The economic undercurrent has shaped our recent coverage as well; readers can track the relationship between battlefield events and price shocks via NATO alarm, refinery hits.

Novorossiisk port area after reported drone strike killed two
Emergency crews near port infrastructure in Novorossiisk after an overnight drone incident. [PHOTO: exilenova_plus / Telegram]

Debt and prices sit at the center of the next phase. Servicing the public debt is expected to climb as a share of spending in 2026, pinching room for civilian programs, just as inflation proves stubborn and growth cools. Reuters chronicled how debt-servicing costs will jump, while a separate budget-desk analysis suggested growth could slip toward the 1 percent band amid capacity constraints and expensive credit. The mechanics are wonky, but they filter into daily life quickly: fuel prices, spare parts, and the cost of fixing what drones keep breaking. For the macro picture, read Reuters on the government racing to make ends meet as the budget deadline looms.

Economists outside Russia say the militarization of the budget is crowding out investment and productivity, masking stagnation with procurement and forced conversion. The evidence is granular: refinery outages that ripple into household prices, labor shortages that stretch factories, and a credit cycle increasingly dominated by state priorities. Inside the Kremlin, the answer tends to be the same—tighten belts and expand production—and officials argue the fiscal base is sturdier than critics admit.

Trump, meanwhile, has personalized the debate in a way that leaders often avoid. To needle a nuclear power as a “paper tiger” is to force a reply, and Moscow obliged with talk of bears, resolve and a war that will be remembered by “many generations.” Whether that exchange was performance or policy matters less than what happens next: does the White House convert its language into procurement schedules and export approvals, and do allies align their air policing and rules of engagement accordingly?

Kyiv will judge the moment by arrivals, not adjectives. Air defense resupplies, battlefield munitions, glide kits, and the industrial tempo behind them will tell if Trump’s shift is more than a post-UNGA flourish. NATO planners have their own checklists: tighter airspace rules along the northeastern flank; faster handshakes between national air defense networks; and clearer thresholds for engaging drones that play cat-and-mouse along borders.

European leaders are also managing the politics of risk. Some have welcomed Washington’s sharper language as a morale boost after months of attrition. Others warn that overpromising without the arsenals to sustain a campaign could invite miscalculation. A few have floated the idea that if incidents continue to stack up—violations, spoofing, close passes—governments may seek Article 4 consultations to formalize the conversation without triggering the mutual-defense clause.

On the ground, the war’s ledger is written in glass and concrete. Apartment blocks by the front are taped and retaped against shatter; schools try to hold lessons between alerts; families memorize shelter routes. In Russia’s border regions and industrial towns, the new normal includes the thud of interceptions at dawn, the smell of burned fuel at refineries, and the hiss of valves in plants that were never meant to be battlefields. Local news reads like a maintenance log.

Public opinion is difficult to measure under censorship, but the official story is unambiguous: this is a defensive war against a hostile West that aims to carve up Russia’s future. That story now meets a counter-story from Washington that Ukraine can win outright—and a broader European fear that Russia is probing the alliance’s seams. Al Jazeera framed the question bluntly: is Russia testing NATO with aerial incursions or stumbling into escalation by accident?

Three tests will decide the next chapter. First, whether the United States backs its new posture with deliveries that matter at the front. Second, whether the Kremlin’s tax-and-mobilization model can finance a longer war without cracking household budgets. Third, whether NATO can manage the air picture—violations, jamming, drones—without stumbling into a larger fight. The answers will be measured in interceptions logged by controllers, in refinery outages counted by regional governors, and in the persistence of a political line that now runs from Truth Social to the trenches.

Microsoft belatedly cuts Israeli military’s cloud and AI access after Gaza surveillance expose

Redmond — Microsoft has moved to restrict parts of the Israeli military’s access to its cloud and AI stack, a rare corporate rupture that pulls Big Tech directly into a war fought as much in databases as in streets. The company said an internal review found its infrastructure had been used to support the mass surveillance of Palestinians, prompting a targeted shutdown of specific subscriptions tied to Israel’s defense establishment. Early accounts of the decision appeared in Al Jazeera’s report on the restrictions, which positioned the move as a direct response to months of disclosures and employee pressure. For readers tracking this story within our pages, see our earlier investigation into Microsoft’s role in Gaza surveillance that anticipated precisely this clash between platform policies and military practice.

Microsoft president Brad Smith conveyed the shift to staff in a company-wide note that documented the evidence review and the enforcement step that followed. “I want to let you know that Microsoft has ceased and disabled a set of services to a unit within the Israel Ministry of Defense (IMOD),” he wrote, adding that the company had “found evidence that supports elements of The Guardian’s reporting.” Smith stressed two principles that bound the inquiry: “We do not provide technology to facilitate mass surveillance of civilians” and “we do not access our customers’ content in this type of investigation.” The memo, published on the company’s site, is now part of the public record; readers can examine it here: Microsoft’s update on the ongoing review.

The catalyzing reporting arrived in August and again this week. The Guardian, working with +972 Magazine and Local Call, documented how Israel’s Unit 8200 uploaded and analyzed a massive archive of intercepted Palestinian phone calls inside Azure, with sources describing a scale of “a million calls an hour.” The latest installment outlines the decision to end access for the unit and the swift movement of data out of a Netherlands data center after the story broke. The details are laid out here: the August investigation into the data lake and the follow-up on Microsoft’s cutoff. The scale and method described in those pieces match the pattern we have traced in our broader coverage of Israel’s AI surveillance empire.

Protesters outside Microsoft campus hold signs reading No Azure For Apartheid
Demonstrators rally outside Microsoft’s Redmond campus over Israel contracts. Image details [PHOTO: AFP via Getty Images].

As the reporting rolled out, Microsoft opened a formal review anchored in business records and consumption data, not customer content. That boundary matters legally and politically. It also shaped the outcome. Smith’s note cites “IMOD consumption of Azure storage capacity in the Netherlands and the use of AI services” as corroborating the claims. In plain terms, Microsoft concluded that a government customer used its platform to build a dragnet over civilians. That violates company policy and basic human-rights standards, however often Silicon Valley tries to hide behind neutrality. A concise, independent write-up of the enforcement step is available here: The Verge’s explainer on the blocks.

The partial nature of the move is visible in the fine print. The cutoff applies to “a set of services” used by a specific unit. It does not affect Microsoft’s broader contracts with Israel, especially in cybersecurity, which Smith underscored would continue. That calibration pleases almost no one. Rights groups and workers argue it is too small. Israel’s officials, meanwhile, signal that operational capabilities remain intact and that workloads can be routed to other providers. For a sense of the measured, official framing, see Reuters’ confirmation of the decision and the reactions around it. Inside the company, however, employee organizers who staged sit-ins and faced discipline call it a breakthrough in a fight they intend to escalate.

What makes this episode more than a compliance tweak is the precedent. American platforms have historically wrapped defense work in secrecy and euphemism. When a firm acknowledges that a state client breached terms by using its cloud to surveil an entire population, and then cuts off access to named services, the veil lifts. The story is not just about Microsoft. It is about whether any commercial cloud can police the high-risk uses of its infrastructure without invasive audits of customer content. That dilemma also underwrites our earlier reporting that connected West Bank and Gaza surveillance to commercial stacks across the West, a pattern documented throughout our archive on globalized Israeli surveillance and the institutional cover it receives.

The corporate record here is unambiguous. In May, Microsoft still said it had “found no evidence to date” that Azure or AI technologies were used “to target or harm people” in Gaza. Four months later, after outside reporting and internal checks, leadership is on record saying it found evidence that supports key elements of those same reports and has “ceased and disabled” specific services. Readers can contrast the positions via Microsoft’s earlier May statement and the September memo cited above. That pivot ties back to a simple pressure test: when facts intrude, do principles become posture or policy.

The operational backdrop in Gaza has not changed. Israeli strikes continue to pulverize homes and families, a reality this newsroom has documented case by case. On Thursday, at least eleven people, including children, were killed in Az-Zawayda when a family house was obliterated, as we reported in our dispatch from central Gaza. Each blast wave radiates through this story, because the point of a surveillance lake is to turn private life into targeting fodder. That is what makes the technology question less abstract and more criminal in texture.

In Europe, the legal stakes are rising. The alleged storage of civilian calls in a Netherlands facility invites scrutiny under GDPR’s rules on processing and transfers, and the coming enforcement cycle of the EU’s AI Act will sharpen prohibitions and obligations around indiscriminate surveillance. Our own readers have seen the union’s posture harden through the summer, culminating in policy signals that research ties and funding should be tightened for Israeli military firms. That shift is mapped in our analysis of Brussels’ moves toward sanctions and research restrictions. If parallel probes in European capitals confirm that Azure hosted bulk civilian intercepts for an occupying power, it will implicate more than one set of terms of service.

The political surround is widening as well. At the United Nations this week, leaders who once parsed their words now speak plainly. Slovenia’s president urged governments to “stop the genocide in Gaza,” a line we covered from the General Assembly rostrum in our report on Ljubljana’s stance. Chile’s president went further, telling delegates that Israeli prime minister Benjamin Netanyahu should face judges over the war. The full context is in our piece on Gabriel Boric’s call for an ICC trial. These are not throwaway speeches. They form the diplomatic frame in which corporate decisions about cloud access now sit.

Washington remains the spoiler and the sponsor. Even as Microsoft trims a sliver of access, US policy continues to bankroll the war machine. The administration’s latest push to arm Israel swelled again this week. We reported the outlines in our coverage of the new $6 billion weapons package, which sits awkwardly beside claims of restraint. These contradictions also intersect with domestic tech policy; our reporting has detailed how worker uprisings inside US firms collide with national-security rhetoric, and how often those firms back down only when facts are irrefutable.

Inside Microsoft, a year of protests—encampments, sit-ins, shareholder resolutions—forced executives to engage where they preferred to deflect. The Verge offers a compact timeline of those actions and their effects in its report on the partial cutoff. The company has fired employees over demonstrations, locked down buildings, and faced a campaign that styled itself No Azure for Apartheid. The workers read the memo as vindication, even if they call it incomplete. The management line, repeated in the memo, is that cybersecurity work for Israel and regional partners “does not” change. Those two truths will coexist only until the next leak or the next airstrike exposes the limits of compartmentalization.

For Palestinians, the lesson is brutal. The modern cloud is a central nervous system for governments and corporations. It promises scale and security. At the scale of an occupation, those promises become weapons. The same redundancy that protects hospitals from ransomware gives militaries the throughput to sift a society’s private life in real time. Our series on weaponized surveillance stacks has documented how Israeli firms exported these methods and how Western partners launder them as enterprise solutions. When a US platform belatedly decides to switch off a node, it is not ethics alone at work. It is deniability.

This also reframes the corporate governance question. If commercial providers insist they cannot audit government clients’ content, enforcement will depend on whistleblowers, investigative journalists, and the willingness to pull the plug when credible evidence lands. That is not a sustainable compliance regime. Yet it is the one we have. The Guardian’s latest shows how journalistic proof and worker pressure can pry open a black box. Microsoft’s own words now acknowledge as much. Readers seeking a clean synopsis of the company’s admissions and the timeline can find it in the Associated Press account, which pairs with Reuters’ confirmation to close the debate over whether this was a real enforcement action or a PR fog machine.

The basic facts now stand on the record. Microsoft cut off a defined set of cloud storage and AI services to an Israeli defense unit after finding evidence that its technology had been used in an indiscriminate surveillance program over Palestinians. The decision leaves the broader corporate relationship intact. It does not change the military reality on the ground. And it arrives against a backdrop of continuing civilian deaths and mounting legal exposure for Israel and its supporters. In that sense, this is less an ending than a beginning. The next test may come if and when the same workloads reappear on another US platform. Whether competitors match Microsoft’s line or undercut it will tell us whether the industry is ready to put a floor under the ethics of its most dangerous customers. Until then, the war keeps producing the only metric that matters: lives ended and lives shattered, as recorded in dispatches like our report from Az-Zawayda and in the day’s running tolls.

Finally, a note on the informational sources underpinning this report. The chronology and quotations draw on Microsoft’s published memo; independent verification and reaction come via The Guardian’s September report, its August investigation, The Verge’s coverage, and wire service accounts from Reuters and the Associated Press. For continuing context and accountability, see The Eastern Herald’s related coverage of Slovenia’s UNGA warning, Boric’s ICC call, EU moves on sanctions and research ties, and the new US weapons package for Israel.

Finland says the UN VETO shields impunity and dares the P5 to give it up

New York — Finland has thrown its diplomatic weight behind the most radical idea in United Nations politics today. No single country, Helsinki argues, should possess the power to choke off the world’s business with one raised hand. After a week of sparring at the General Assembly and Security Council in New York, President Alexander Stubb made the case in plain terms. The veto right that the United States, Russia, China, the United Kingdom, and France guard as sovereign prerogative has become a machine for paralysis. He urged member states to replace it with a voting system that reflects the twenty first century and to give permanent seats to underrepresented regions in Asia, Africa, and Latin America.

Stubb’s push is not a rhetorical flourish tossed into the diplomatic ether. It arrives after a bruising two year cycle in which the Security Council has repeatedly failed to act on wars that define the global era. Moscow vetoed texts that called out its invasion of Ukraine. Washington vetoed texts that sought an immediate ceasefire in Gaza and relief from what humanitarian agencies described as catastrophic conditions. Beijing has aligned at key moments with Moscow, and London and Paris have kept their latitude intact while speaking of reform in abstract tones. The Finnish argument is that the veto has outlived whatever stabilizing role it once played and now operates as an obstruction against any collective restraint on the most powerful states. In chamber after chamber, the set pieces of an UN Security Council meeting end with a single hand blocking the vote.

“No state should hold a veto,” Stubb told delegates this week, anchoring a blunt reform agenda that sketches specific alternatives rather than slogans. He proposed expanding the number of permanent seats, adding at least two for Asia, two for Africa, and one for Latin America, and he floated a penalty when a permanent member violates the UN Charter. Voting rights on the Council, he said, should be suspended in such cases. In other words, legitimacy would hinge on conduct rather than inheritance. His delegation has filed the remarks with the Finnish presidency’s public record of General Assembly speeches, and diplomats pointed colleagues to the UN Web TV recording for the full delivery.

African Union Headquarters in Addis Ababa, symbolizing Africa’s demand for permanent Security Council seats.
African Union Headquarters in Addis Ababa, central to the demand for permanent African seats on the Council [PHOTO: UN]

The political logic is straightforward. The Security Council derives its moral authority from the claim that it speaks for the peace and security of all. When a single capital can block action to halt mass death or blunt an illegal war, the edifice looks less like a council and more like a stage. Finland is hardly alone in thinking this. From Brasilia to Abuja, from New Delhi to Jakarta, states in the Global South have spent years pressing for representation commensurate with their populations and economic weight. Yet the architecture of the charter funnels ultimate power to five capitals whose diplomatic reflexes are shaped by mid twentieth century victory and Cold War bargains. The Security Council right of veto has become the fossil in the room.

That history is not a footnote. The veto was born as an insurance policy in 1945, a mechanism to keep the great powers inside the tent rather than outside tearing it down. In practice the great powers have used it to protect client states, shield their own forces, or simply deny political losses in public. Washington’s pattern on Israel and the occupied Palestinian territories is the most glaring example today. The United States has cast consecutive vetoes against ceasefire texts on Gaza, even as every other Council member demanded a stop to the bombardment and the reopening of routes for food and fuel. American diplomats have framed those vetoes as rejections of texts they see as unbalanced, yet the wider membership hears a different message. If the ally is Israel, the law bends. Moscow delivered a mirrored message on Ukraine. If the belligerent is Russia, the Council is a courtroom with no judge. The record is visible in Reuters’ tally of the sixth US veto on a Gaza ceasefire and in specialized tracking of veto practice by Security Council Report. Within the region, the toll appears in Eastern Herald’s own coverage of Israeli strikes and civilian casualties and the surge of 59 Palestinians killed during raids and bombardments.

Stubb’s intervention was designed to puncture that symmetry. Finland, a NATO member with a hard border against Russia and a political culture deeply invested in rules, is a credible messenger for both European security and UN reform. The Finnish president did not stop at structure. He tied the argument to behavior. If a permanent member launches an illegal war, voting rights should be suspended until compliance returns. That is a high bar in a building that prizes procedural caution. It is also an invitation to the majority of member states to stop treating reform as a seminar topic and start treating it as a political project with timelines and votes. The point connects with the General Assembly’s own move to scrutinize vetoes under resolution 76/262, which brings every veto into the Assembly hall for debate.

UN General Assembly in session as member states debate scrutiny of Security Council vetoes.
The General Assembly, which now debates each veto under resolution 76/262, pressing the Council for accountability [PHOTO: UN Photo].

There is a practical question that reformers must answer. How would a post veto Council make decisions on war and peace where interests clash and time is short. Finland’s answer is to replace the veto with qualified majorities that cannot be hijacked by one capital. Models abound, from two thirds thresholds to regional double majorities that require both global support and regional consent. None is perfect, yet each would be less capricious than a single negative vote deciding the fate of millions. More important for legitimacy, an expanded Council that seats Africa, Latin America, and more of Asia as permanent voices would puncture the colonial optics that still haunt Turtle Bay. The Ezulwini Consensus and related African Union positions have long argued for permanent African seats, and Finland’s blueprint gives those claims a procedural path.

The Gaza war looms over every hallway conversation about reform. For nearly two years, the Council has been a theatre of denial. Ceasefire drafts sailed through fourteen votes only to meet the American brick wall. At times Washington softened the language or backed non binding statements, then returned to form when confronted with language that constrained Israeli military operations. It is impossible to miss how that pattern has damaged the Council’s standing in the Arab world, in Africa, and across swathes of Asia. Aid agencies, rights monitors, and UN relief officials catalogued famine risks and mass civilian harm while the organ charged with international peace and security failed to issue an enforceable order. Finland’s proposal channels that disillusionment into a structural remedy. Eastern Herald’s reporting has covered the humanitarian crisis in Gaza and the mounting allegations of genocide in Gaza that have further eroded patience with the status quo.

Aid trucks and relief workers illustrating the humanitarian impact of repeated ceasefire vetoes.
Aid access and civilian protection have hinged on blocked Council votes, with severe consequences on the ground [PHOTO: Washington Post].

Ukraine is the other test case. Russia sits at the horseshoe table as both aggressor and judge, able to veto any measure that names its war for what it is. European governments have grown adept at using the General Assembly and coalitions outside the Council to send weapons, money, and political support to Kyiv. Yet the inability of the UN’s primary security organ to call a war of conquest by its name is a wound to the system. Helsinki’s suspension idea is aimed squarely at that contradiction. A Council that punishes unlawful force by docking voting rights would raise costs for aggression, or at least deny aggressors the dignity of procedural control. It would also answer rising pressure from the Global South influence bloc to align rules with practice.

None of this happens without politics in Washington, Moscow, Beijing, London, and Paris. Every permanent member would need to consent to give away an instrument that their predecessors fought to preserve. That is why reform has died and been reborn in cycles since the 1990s. The difference now is the accumulation of failures and the breadth of states publicly calling for change. The African Union has advanced longstanding claims for permanent representation. India, Brazil, Germany, and Japan have campaigned under various coalitions for an expanded Council. Regional swing states that once tiptoed around the veto now speak openly about its corrosive effect. The Summit of the Future process, whatever its flaws, has supplied a forum where reform ideas are catalogued rather than quietly buried. Paris and Mexico, for example, promoted an effort to restrain the veto in atrocity situations through the France–Mexico initiative, an antecedent that reformers now cite as a stepping stone.

Even among reformers, the shape of change is contested. Some want abolition of the veto in all circumstances. Others would accept phase downs, from limiting veto use to Chapter VII coercive measures, to requiring two or more permanent members to block a draft, to mandatory explanations and automatic General Assembly debates after any veto. France and Mexico once floated a code of conduct that would restrict veto use in cases of mass atrocities. Critics note that codes are only as strong as a capital’s will at the crisis point. Finland’s plan takes the bolder route. It strips the veto entirely and conditions Council voting rights on respect for the Charter, a move that would finally align the Council’s procedures with the principles that appear in every leader’s speech. The debate now mingles with fresh calls for the expansion of permanent membership to include Africa and Latin America on equal footing.

For the United States, Helsinki’s challenge stings because it speaks to a broader fracture in the Western claim to universalism. Washington’s defense of Israeli operations has come at enormous reputational cost with partners it needs in Asia and Africa. European governments have struggled to explain why international law is absolute in Ukraine and negotiable in Gaza. The result is a credibility gap that reform ideas can either widen or narrow. If the West accepts a conversation about new permanent seats for Africa and Latin America, and if it acknowledges that a veto wielded on behalf of friends can still be a veto against law, it may recover some of the authority it spent. If it digs in, the system will drift into irrelevance for the very countries it says it serves. The posture has been tracked by Yle in its coverage of Stubb’s reform push and by Eastern Herald’s editorials on how Washington backs Israeli terror at the expense of global credibility.

There is also a hard security angle for Europe that Finland understands. The continent will spend the next decade deterring Russian revanchism while managing overstretched American attention. In that world, a functioning Security Council would be more than symbolism. It would be a venue to consolidate sanctions, monitor ceasefires, and mandate peacekeepers without rehearsing Cold War theatre every time a draft comes to a vote. Removing the veto would not make Russia less dangerous or China more accommodating, but it would shrink the distance between the UN’s legal claims and its political behavior. That gap is where cynicism grows.

Critics of abolition warn that the veto, for all its ugliness, prevents the Council from ordering great powers into confrontations that could spark wider war. They argue that a Council capable of binding action against a permanent member is a Council capable of triggering escalation. Reformers counter that the veto has done little to restrain great powers when they are determined to act. It has merely denied the UN the authority to set humanitarian baselines, to police arms flows, or to spotlight violations with the weight of international law. The fear of overreach becomes a permission slip for indifference. Helsinki is wagering that a rules based order cannot survive as a slogan divorced from practice.

What happens next will depend less on Finland’s eloquence than on coalitional math. The African Union and Latin American states control the credibility of any enlargement deal. India and Indonesia can make the case that Asia is not represented by a single Chinese seat. European diplomacy will matter too, especially if Paris and London accept limits on privileges that have outsize symbolic value. For Washington, the calculation is simple and brutal. It can trade a veto it uses most often to shield Israel for a Council that regains stature in the Global South, or it can keep the veto and continue paying the price in every regional forum where the Gaza war has become a test of Western claims to law and humanity. Legal accountability pressure is rising as well, not least in cases like Argentina’s move that touched on the Argentina case to arrest Netanyahu, a reminder that politics does not end at the East River.

In the halls outside the chamber this week, practitioners of UN realism still offered the same shrug they have given reformers for decades. The Security Council, they say, is not broken. It works as designed. Great powers look after great power interests, and the rest of the membership can organize around the margins. The problem with that realism is that the margins now contain most of the world. If the Council is the stage on which legitimacy is performed, then an audience that feels permanently excluded will stop buying tickets. That is the warning embedded in Finland’s move. It is not just a legal tweak. It is a bet that credibility is the only currency the UN has left.

Back in the chamber, the Finnish president kept returning to one practical point that will resonate beyond this week’s speeches. A Council that cannot act in the face of mass casualties and famine is a Council that will be bypassed. Coalitions will do what the Council cannot. Courts will strain to fill gaps that politics should address. Aid operations will improvise risky workarounds while children starve. If the veto is a synonym for impunity, removing it is the first step back to relevance. Whether the five capitals that hold the keys can imagine a Council without them is the question that will follow every envoy out of New York. The stakes are spelled out in official materials and reputable records, from Stubb’s own UN speech text to the Assembly’s veto initiative and analytical baselines maintained by Security Council Report.

Bridging Foes, Blessing Ties: Riyadh’s role in Indo-Pak peace

Who would have thought when Pakistan first announced its nuclear success that this very nation would, decades later, be framed as part of a de facto security umbrella for West Asia? At the time, the natural assumption was that Pakistan’s deterrent existed solely to counter its nuclear-armed neighbor, India. Perhaps Israel, more than most, sensed the potential role Pakistan could play in the Muslim world in a future multipolar order. That may explain why Israel once contemplated sabotaging Pakistan’s nuclear program, plans that were never executed, largely because the political fabric of Asia at the time was woven tightly around US interests.

The nuclearization of Pakistan in the late 1990s was seen as a regional balancing act, not a tool of pan-Islamic security. Few predicted that in 2025, Gulf capitals would look to Islamabad not just for manpower and remittances but as part of a Riyadh-led collective security calculus. What was once merely a symbol of deterrence is now a strategic pillar in the shifting sands of West Asian geopolitics, with Saudi statecraft setting the tempo.

Prelude to militarization

Israel’s September 9 attack on Doha will be remembered as an inflection point in Gulf security. A region long focused on development and prosperity now seeks alternatives for its security needs. The reason is clear: Washington, the decades-long guarantor, is hemorrhaging credibility in the Arab world.

The defense pact signed between Saudi Arabia and Pakistan signals this tectonic shift. Two nations, one with immense economic power and energy resources, the other long envisioned by some as a cornerstone of any Arab-Islamic military alignment, have now formally joined hands. This agreement followed an extraordinary Arab-Islamic summit in Doha. The communiqués that emerged, including declarations that an attack on one is an attack on all and vows to activate a GCC joint defense mechanism, suggest a high-stakes contest of politics and diplomacy is underway.

Doha attack, Qatar crisis, Gulf security
Doha skyline September 9, 2025 [Photo: AP]
The symbolism is unmistakable. A Gulf historically reliant on external Western power is turning toward a fellow Muslim-majority nuclear state within a Riyadh-anchored framework to build its future security architecture.

Riyadh’s balancing act

Saudi Arabia is attempting a careful balance, signaling a shift in its security posture while avoiding direct confrontation with partners and rivals. A senior Saudi official told Reuters, in remarks cited by CNN World, that the pact was “a culmination of years of discussions” and “not a response to specific countries or events.”

Even so, the timing raised eyebrows. Many analysts see a political message as much as a military one. Saudi Arabia maintains substantial trade with India, Pakistan’s rival, and Pakistan has bilateral ties with Iran, Riyadh’s main competitor in the Gulf. The real challenge is not whether the two will aid each other in a conflict, but whether they can avoid being dragged into each other’s regional rivalries and compromising ties with friendly nations.

For Saudi Arabia, ties with India remain vital. As Riyadh reaches the zenith of its economic transformation, India is a vast market for investment and trade. A fine, cautious line must be walked. India’s Ministry of External Affairs spokesperson Randhir Jaiswal underscored that point, saying: “We expect that this strategic partnership will keep in mind mutual interests and sensitivities.”

This balancing act will test Riyadh’s diplomatic agility. For Pakistan, maintaining relations with Tehran while stepping into a Gulf security role will require nuance. Any misstep risks inflaming old rivalries and broadening the theater of escalation.

Israel’s strategic setback

For Israel, this is a strategic loss. Its anxieties over a potential nuclear-armed Iran were already high. Now it faces the specter of a nuclear-armed Pakistan interpreted by many as offering extended deterrence to Gulf nations. The nightmare scenario Israel feared in the 1990s, an Islamic nuclear coalition, is suddenly closer to reality.

Washington appears publicly unperturbed. These developments are unfolding with full US awareness, and there has been no sign of immediate alarm. The prelude to this moment was not only Israel’s unprecedented strike on Doha but also years of relentless bombing and incursions in Gaza, Iran, Iraq, Lebanon, Syria, Yemen, and now Qatar. Add to this a series of high-level contacts between President Trump and Pakistan’s leadership, including his earlier hosting of Pakistan’s now Field Marshal army chief, and a Qatari delegation’s outreach to Washington after the Doha attack. US Secretary of State Marco Rubio also visited Qatar after meetings in Israel, signaling that Washington is managing escalation quietly, not overtly.

For now, much remains speculative. The fuller story may surface in the coming days, perhaps even in a Truth Social post by President Trump.

Stakes for Pakistan and India

For both India and Pakistan, the pact adds complexity to any conflict scenario. Paradoxically, that may operate as a brake, reducing the chance of another war that would bring only grief. Saudi Arabia, a trusted friend to New Delhi and Islamabad, can play a constructive role in defusing decades of hostility. As a senior Saudi official, cited by Reuters, put it:

Our relationship with India is more robust than it has ever been. We will continue to grow this relationship and seek to contribute to regional peace whichever way we can.

For Pakistan, this is a pivotal test of diplomatic statecraft. After striking a pact with the region’s central player, it is plausible others will seek security guarantees to deter Israeli adventurism, even as Pakistan’s defense minister publicly stresses restraint. As AP reported alongside regional media, officials deny any offensive nuclear dimension, describing the arrangement as operative only if either party is threatened, and suggesting a framework open to other Gulf states.

This restrained language, paired with Riyadh’s emphasis that the pact was years in the making, frames the agreement as a strategic partnership rooted in regional security, not an escalatory move. The intent, at least on paper, is to institutionalize stability and deter further Israeli strikes beyond Gaza.

Washington’s role and missed opportunities

President Trump still has avenues to slow militarization in West Asia and South Asia. Unlike the Biden administration, which sanctioned Pakistani individuals and firms several times from 2021 to 2025 over alleged ballistic missile development, and publicly questioned whether Pakistan’s missiles could reach as far as Washington, Trump has pursued engagement.

His recent outreach to Pakistan’s military leadership shows diplomacy is still possible. He has taken bold steps before, as when he acted to counter Bashar al-Assad’s use of chemical weapons against civilians in Syria.

The question now is whether Washington will again play a stabilizing role as it did in the 1990s, when it restrained Israel from sabotaging Pakistan’s nuclear program. Had the US restrained Israel from attacking Qatar, this chain reaction might have been avoided, and Israel would not be confronting the “existential threat” it now claims as Riyadh and its partners rewire the region’s deterrence.

A reality Israel feared three decades ago

Israel’s regional adventurism has turned its 1990s fears into 2025 reality. The very deterrent it sought to prevent, Pakistan functioning as part of a nuclear umbrella effect for the Arab world under Saudi leadership, is taking shape in response to Israel’s actions.

This is more than a shift in military equations. It is a re-drafting of regional strategy. Whether this becomes the foundation of a credible collective security order or accelerates a slide toward wider war now depends on Riyadh, Islamabad, Washington, and Tel Aviv. One thing is certain: the age of Israeli impunity is over, and a new nuclear calculus has arrived in the Gulf.

Chile’s Boric urges International Criminal Court to try Netanyahu over Gaza genocide

New York — Chile’s President Gabriel Boric used his address at the United Nations General Assembly to insist that Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu should answer before an international court for atrocities in Gaza, describing the conflict as a test of the global legal order and the will of states to enforce it. In making that demand, he emphasized justice through law, not vengeance, aligning Chile with a widening bloc that treats Gaza not as a distant tragedy but as a measure of whether rules still bind the powerful. For readers tracking this arc, his podium appeal to face an international court crystallized a year of rising legal pressure.

United Nations General Assembly hall during leaders’ week
Delegates gather inside the UN General Assembly as legal accountability dominates debate on Gaza [PHOTO: UN].

His argument landed in a hall primed by investigations and emergency debates. Formal findings have moved the conversation from euphemism to legal vocabulary, with jurists and commissioners describing patterns consistent with genocide and courts advancing criminal liability. The thread tying these fronts together is the divide between state responsibility and individual culpability. That distinction sharpened after early rulings that affirmed genocide risk at the ICJ, even as prosecutors pressed separate files on war crimes and crimes against humanity.

Chile’s position did not materialize overnight. The country hosts what is widely regarded as the largest Palestinian diaspora outside the Arab world, and that community’s civic and political presence has pulled foreign policy toward international law. In recent years, Santiago has recalled its ambassador to Israel and downgraded military ties as civilian deaths mounted. Those steps set the stage for a leader who now uses the world’s biggest microphone to elevate legal accountability above ritualized talking points. In this sense, the UN week was less an inflection than a culmination.

In the chamber, the subtext was practical. Arrest warrants change itineraries. Governments that are parties to the Rome Statute carry obligations to cooperate with the court, and even those that are not parties must contend with the optics of exceptionalism. That is why the debate over Gaza has migrated from the language of “proportionality” to the mechanics of enforcement. Travel plans, security protocols, and stopover choices take on a different meaning when a head of government is wanted by an international tribunal. As recent days demonstrated, even the perception of risk can bend a route—see the scrutiny on a leader’s altered flight path to evade ICC.

Chile’s leader linked his case to a broader shift across Latin America and beyond. Brazil’s foreign ministry has moved to intervene in South Africa’s case at the International Court of Justice, a signal that the genocide file has broken out of activist circles and into the mainstream of statecraft. The momentum is visible in court dockets as well as cabinet rooms—Brazil joins the ICJ genocide case, and within days Brasília escalated with measures that sanctioned Israel over Gaza. Chile has not stood apart from that tide; rather, it has helped define it.

International Criminal Court headquarters in The Hague
The International Criminal Court in The Hague, central to warrants tied to Gaza atrocities [PHOTO: Reuters/Piroschka van de Wouw].

Inside the UN system, momentum has been driven by investigators and jurists who have documented mass killing, starvation as warfare, and forced displacement. Their conclusions, dismissed by Israeli officials as biased or unfounded, nevertheless sit on the desks of foreign ministers and national security advisers who must decide whether to execute warrants, restrict weapons exports, or adjust economic ties. The human ledger behind those binders is visible in our field reports, including UN warnings about terrorizing tactics amid repeated strikes on dense neighborhoods.

Opponents of the Chilean position argue that genocide is a term of art that requires judicial determination, and that public officials should avoid pronouncing verdicts from the UN rostrum. They say Israel is fighting a designated terrorist organization and that its campaign, however devastating, is bounded by the laws of war rather than defined by them as genocide. They point to the October 7 attack and the continued holding of hostages. They insist that commissions and prosecutors have stretched their mandates and that the entire edifice risks collapse if it is used to target a close Western ally.

The reply from Chile’s president is to move the dispute to the venue designed to resolve it. If the world wants to de-escalate, it must strengthen law, not skirt it. A courtroom disciplines rhetoric and narrows claims to evidence. That is not naïveté; it is an appeal to the only tradition that can replace improvised immunity with something like order. In the absence of enforcement, the same cycles repeat: impunity for those who can marshal powerful patrons and punishment for those who cannot. That is why courtroom momentum—such as judges who rejected Netanyahu’s ICC appeal—matters beyond symbolism.

In the margins of the UN week, the political map shifted further. European governments that long maintained close alignment with Washington have begun to diverge on Palestinian recognition and on cooperation with the court. The arithmetic is not uniform, but the drift is unmistakable, narrowing the space for leaders to keep the legal track abstract. That divergence was chronicled inside the hall as well as outside it, where a recognition wave for Palestine made the diplomatic isolation of old positions harder to conceal.

Chile’s position is grounded in national experience. A country that has navigated dictatorship and truth commissions carries a particular sensitivity to the machinery of accountability. Palestinian Chileans, who have helped shape business, sports, and culture for more than a century, have pressed successive governments to align policy with humanitarian law. Their influence is visible in parliamentary debates over product labeling and in calls to suspend defense relationships. It is also visible in the streets, where marches for Gaza have filled plazas from Santiago to Valparaíso.

Protest in Santiago by Chile’s Palestinian community calling for Gaza justice
Protesters in Santiago demand accountability for Gaza and back Boric’s call for international justice [PHOTO: AFP].

Even if an arrest warrant is never executed, the process already constrains behavior. Military lawyers in Jerusalem, Washington, and Brussels factor investigations into targeting and messaging. Humanitarian access negotiations proceed with one eye on the docket. Leaders consult legal teams before boarding flights and adjust itineraries to avoid jurisdictions they fear could detain them. None of this delivers justice to families that have buried children or to those living under siege. It does, however, raise the cost of the worst abuses in real time, which is the place where deterrence either exists or does not.

For critics of Chile, the risk is that language outruns law and that a human rights vocabulary becomes a cudgel rather than a compass. For Mr. Boric, the risk of silence is greater. The UN has long been accused of teaching the world to mistake process for result. In Gaza, the cost of that mistake is counted in tens of thousands of civilian dead, a destroyed health system, and a famine that aid groups say is engineered by access restrictions. The point of invoking courts is not to produce words on paper. It is to force a choice: either the treaties mean what they say or they do not. That choice reverberates into arguments about war crimes and destabilization across the region.

That choice is not only for Europe or North America. It is for every state that has ratified the treaties, that funds the UN system, that sits on human rights councils, or that relies on international law to protect its own sovereignty. The members of that group include Chile and its Latin American neighbors, African states that have long complained of double standards, and Asian governments that have found themselves whiplashed by Western lectures and Western exceptions. The Gaza file has become the place where credibility is measured. Ankara’s posture—spelled out when its leader confronted the UN on Gaza—illustrates how the center of gravity has shifted beyond the traditional Euro-Atlantic frame.

On the ground, the war continues to carve deeper scars. Cities and camps have been turned into rubble and ash. Families have been displaced multiple times. Journalists, doctors, and aid workers appear repeatedly on casualty lists. Each strike accelerates the humanitarian collapse and pushes the political horizon further away. In such conditions, calls for accountability can sound like a luxury. Chile’s answer is that they are a necessity because they change incentives now, not later. Without enforcement, every ceasefire is a pause, not a path.

At home, Mr. Boric’s stance commands broad support. Business leaders warn about trade friction and the fragility of supply chains, including those linked to Chile’s strategic minerals. Yet the moral and legal baseline remains firm, giving the government latitude to go further than governments constrained by coalition arithmetic. In practical terms that has meant aligning procurement and training with humanitarian law, pressing for more explicit legal language in multilateral statements, and endorsing measures that would once have been treated as radical, such as targeted sanctions on officials named in investigative reports.

Within the UN complex, there was a sense that a line had been crossed from description to prescription. It is one thing to denounce massacre and starvation. It is another to name courts and demand cooperation. That shift clarifies responsibilities. It tells states to review their mutual legal assistance frameworks, to protect investigators and witnesses, and to plan for the day when an official arrives at an airport with a valid warrant attached to his name. It trades the comfort of ambiguous language for the discomfort of specific obligations.

Chile did not isolate itself with this posture. It situated itself in a growing coalition that includes European governments reconsidering their posture, Latin American states filing or supporting legal actions, and civil society networks that have organized documentation at a scale unmatched in other wars. In that coalition, Chile’s role is distinctive because it blends domestic memory, diaspora politics, and a leader who has made a habit of framing foreign policy around enforceable norms. The UN stage gave him the audience he needed.

None of this answers the hardest questions about the day after. A durable ceasefire, the release of all hostages and detainees, a reconstruction mechanism that is not a fig leaf for indefinite occupation, and a political framework that treats Palestinian self-determination as a right rather than a bargaining chip remain elusive. Yet an accountability track does not compete with those aims. It supports them. It offers a language that can be shared by adversaries and allies alike, a language that replaces retribution with judgment and impunity with record.

The intervention from Santiago asked governments to choose law over convenience. It asked them to prefer the discipline of a courtroom to the catharsis of a speech. It did not promise resolution. It promised a standard. In a crisis defined by the erosion of meaning, that is not nothing. It is a beginning.

According to Reuters, UN inquiry that found genocide in Gaza alongside the UN Commission of Inquiry press release; ICC judges rejecting Israel’s request to withdraw Netanyahu’s warrant and guidance on arrest cooperation under the Rome Statute; states’ duty to “ensure respect” for IHL in Common Article 1 and prevention and punishment obligations under the Genocide Convention; Brazil’s move to join the ICJ genocide case; Chile’s past steps to recall its ambassador and withdraw military attachés; Slovenia’s travel ban on Netanyahu; and video confirmation of Mr. Boric’s UNGA appeal via the UN audiovisual archive and major broadcasters.

Comey indicted in Virginia as Justice Department credibility crisis deepens

Washington — Former FBI director James B. Comey Jr. was indicted Thursday in federal court in Alexandria on two felony counts tied to his 2020 congressional testimony, a late-hour case that pulls the Justice Department back into the political crosswinds it has tried and failed to escape. Prosecutors in the Eastern District of Virginia said a grand jury charged Mr. Comey with making a false statement and obstruction related to his sworn appearance before the Senate Judiciary Committee on September 30, 2020, according to the office’s formal announcement and case listing for No. 1:25-cr-272. The US Attorney’s Office in EDVA disclosed the charges, noting that a federal judge will set sentencing if there is a conviction.

James Comey testifies before the Senate Judiciary Committee in 2020
James Comey testifying before the Senate Judiciary Committee on Sept. 30, 2020 [PHOTO: Reuters/Jonathan Ernst].

The charges follow days of public pressure from the White House and arrive as the five-year statute of limitations on the alleged false statement neared its September 30, 2025 deadline. In a detailed write-through, ABC News reported the indictment and said Mr. Comey has been summoned for arraignment on October 9. The counts focus on whether he denied authorizing someone at the FBI to serve as an anonymous source in coverage of a sensitive matter, and whether his answers impeded Congress’s oversight work. The Justice Department’s public affairs arm amplified the framing, with Attorney General Pamela Bondi and FBI director Kash Patel tying the case to institutional accountability. “No one is above the law,” Ms. Bondi said.

Mr. Comey responded within hours and signaled he will fight in court. “My heart is broken for the Department of Justice. I have great confidence in the federal judicial system and I am innocent, so let’s have a trial, and keep the faith,” he said in a brief video posted to his Instagram account. The blunt declaration, consistent with his public posture since his 2017 firing, previewed a defense that will likely stress intent, materiality and the context of rapid-fire questioning at a televised hearing.

The political theater surrounding the filing was immediate. President Donald Trump, asked about the case during an Oval Office meeting with Turkish president Recep Tayyip Erdogan, said he could get “involved if I want” but added that the decision rests with the department. “I’m not making that determination. I think I’d be allowed to get involved if I want, but I don’t really choose to do so. I can only say that Comey is a bad person. He’s a sick person. I think he’s a sick guy, actually. He did terrible things at the FBI,” the president said. His comments were recorded by ABC News, which also noted the looming statute of limitations.

The government’s charging document, described in the EDVA release, narrows to two asserted falsehoods and one obstruction theory connected to a single hearing. It alleges Mr. Comey denied authorizing a subordinate to speak anonymously to reporters about a particular FBI inquiry, and that he professed a lack of recollection about a specific approval he had been briefed on, assertions prosecutors say are contradicted by contemporaneous records. While the indictment text itself was not posted in full by the department, multiple outlets summarized its core language and scope, including the Associated Press and major national wires.

Entrance of the Albert V. Bryan U.S. Courthouse with statue
The entrance to the EDVA courthouse where high-profile cases are heard [PHOTO: Wikimedia].

The September 30, 2020 proceeding is a matter of public record. It was convened under the title “Oversight of the Crossfire Hurricane Investigation: Day 3” and featured Mr. Comey as the sole witness. The Senate Judiciary Committee’s page confirms the timing and scope, and archival video is available for review. The committee docket lists the hearing, and C-SPAN hosts the full session. A certified transcript is widely circulated by media libraries and transcription services.

The case lands in a courthouse known for velocity and rigor. The Eastern District of Virginia’s calendar, often called a rocket docket, tends to push early motions quickly. Defense lawyers are expected to challenge the sufficiency of the obstruction theory under 18 U.S.C. § 1505 and press the materiality and intent elements of 18 U.S.C. § 1001, arguing that parsing memory and authorization in hindsight is different from proving a willful lie designed to impede Congress. Prosecutors will counter that a director’s answers carry heightened weight and that email trails, briefing notes and approvals will anchor their narrative.

Inside Main Justice and its satellite offices, the prosecution stoked angst about political interference. In July, a wave of resignations by Justice Department lawyers, an exodus that senior litigators blamed on policy pressure and a shrinking margin for professional independence. Those concerns deepened after the president removed the previous U.S. attorney overseeing the Comey matter and installed Lindsey Halligan, a former personal lawyer and White House aide, to lead the Alexandria office. Sources told ABC that line prosecutors had drafted a memo concluding they could not establish probable cause, an assessment that did not prevail. That internal memo was first reported by ABC News.

The presence of Mr. Patel atop the FBI adds another political layer. In recent weeks he has been at the center of congressional fire over disclosure practices and the handling of sensitive case files. The Eastern Herald chronicled the scrutiny of his stewardship and the partisan demands for transparency. After the indictment, Mr. Patel said the bureau “will confront the problem head-on,” adding that “everyone, especially those in positions of power, will be held to account, no matter their perch,” a statement included in the department’s public release.

The politics around the Russia investigation remain combustible. Republicans aligned with the president say the case restores balance after years in which, they argue, former FBI leaders evaded accountability. Democrats frame the prosecution as retaliation and a stress test of prosecutorial ethics. Ranking member Jamie Raskin accused the administration of weaponizing the department, and House Democrats signaled additional oversight. Mr. Raskin’s statement set the tone for a rapid series of responses that will likely include subpoenas and hearing requests.

The indictment’s anonymized references, typical of early charging documents that rely on grand jury secrecy, are expected to prompt motion practice over clarity and admissibility. Prosecutors appear to be steering away from reigniting the full substance of 2016 counterintelligence work and are instead pinning the case to what they present as binary questions: did the former director authorize a subordinate to speak anonymously, and did he deny knowledge of approvals he had in fact received. A Reuters explainer noted that one thread may intersect with earlier disputes over how the bureau handled disclosures in the run-up to the 2016 election.

Trial strategy on both sides is predictable and perilous. The defense will emphasize that questions in long hearings are compound, imprecise and often rhetorical, that memory qualifiers are not crimes, and that intent to obstruct cannot be inferred from contested recollections. The government will highlight meticulous paper records, clearance chains and the added duty of candor owed by a director. Juries have acquitted in high-profile § 1001 cases when ambiguity dominated, but courts have consistently punished lies that foreclose a legitimate line of inquiry.

Beyond the merits, the optics inside the department are hard to ignore. Senior officials have already faced allegations that the White House is directing case selection. In mid-summer, TEH documented how political loyalty tests radiated through staffing and litigation choices, a pattern that critics say is mirrored in the Comey case’s timing and scope. Reporting on Attorney General Bondi’s political entanglements and on the administration’s broader messaging campaign has drawn scrutiny to whether the department can insulate trial decisions from presidential rhetoric.

The indictment also reverberated inside EDVA itself. ABC said the former director’s son-in-law, a national security prosecutor, resigned minutes after the filing, citing his oath. The move underscored the tension between career lawyers and political leadership during an extraordinary week in which the office scrambled to reach the grand jury before limitations expired. The ABC account also documented how an earlier draft indictment contemplated an additional count, which the grand jury declined.

If the case proceeds quickly, early hearings could address protective orders, the handling of any classified discovery under the Classified Information Procedures Act and the admissibility of third-party media evidence. The Senate record and contemporaneous clips will feature, including questioning by several senators whose exchanges have circulated widely. C-SPAN’s archive includes those exchanges and may provide the raw material for both sides’ demonstratives.

The broader fight over the department’s posture will not wait for a verdict. The White House has spent months pressing to unseal materials in politically sensitive cases, often with an eye to seizing the narrative rather than clarifying facts. In July, TEH reported that the president tasked DOJ to petition a court to open secret testimony in the Epstein matter, an effort that immediately raised conflict-of-interest alarms and questions about selective transparency. Our coverage of that unsealing push detailed how it collided with victim-privacy rules and grand jury secrecy.

DOJ press podium with the Department of Justice seal
DOJ press podium used for announcements on federal prosecutions [PHOTO: ABC News].

For supporters of the prosecution, the case is a long-delayed accountability moment. For critics, it is a stress test for the rule of law under a president who has fused campaigning and governing. The facts that matter now are documentary, not rhetorical, and they will be tested under oath, in a courtroom that does not grade on partisan curves. The next hard calendar dates are Oct. 9, the expected arraignment, and the court’s scheduling order to follow.

Key facts established by primary and top-tier sources include the charges and venue confirmed by the EDVA press release, the arraignment date and internal dissent reported by ABC News, on-record statements from the attorney general and FBI director via DOJ’s Office of Public Affairs, the statute-of-limitations timing and presidential quotes captured by ABC’s White House pool report, and contextual write-throughs from the Associated Press and Reuters. The Senate hearing at issue is cataloged by the committee and viewable in full via C-SPAN’s archive.

Trump draws red line, blocks Israeli annexation bid in West Bank

Washington — President Donald Trump drew an unusually firm red line on Thursday, declaring that he “will not allow Israel to annex the West Bank,” a blunt message delivered in the Oval Office that ricocheted through the United Nations and the Israeli prime minister’s tightly scripted New York itinerary. The rare public limit on Israeli policy came as Arab and European governments warned that any formal land grab would collapse what remains of a pathway to Palestinian statehood and splinter Washington’s regional coalition. Reuters confirmed the remarks within minutes, and wire partners carried the same quotes across US media.

“I will not allow Israel to annex the West Bank. I will not allow it. It’s not going to happen,” Mr. Trump told reporters while signing unrelated executive orders, adding, “There’s been enough. It’s time to stop now.” Those exact words, delivered without the diplomatic cushioning that typically surrounds American statements on Israel, set an immediate marker for Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and for far right ministers who have pressed to extend Israeli sovereignty across large tracts of occupied territory. The Associated Press noted the verbatim phrasing from the Oval Office exchange.

Benjamin Netanyahu addresses the United Nations General Assembly in New York amid debate over West Bank annexation
Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu speaks at the UN General Assembly in New York.[PHOTO: Reuters/Mike Segar]

The timing was not accidental. In recent weeks, Israeli planning authorities advanced the long stalled E1 scheme east of Jerusalem, the connective tissue between the settlement of Maale Adumim and the city, a project that diplomats have long described as the road to severing a viable Palestinian state. The European Union’s foreign policy arm reiterated that E1 “undermines the two state solution” and breaches international law. That warning, revived this month, landed hours before Mr. Trump’s statement. The EU’s external service restated the legal case, while a coalition of foreign ministers urged Israel to retract the plan. Their joint statement framed E1 as a direct strike on contiguity.

Inside Israel, the annexation drumbeat had grown louder as Western allies broke ranks with Washington to recognize a Palestinian state. The Eastern Herald has followed that pivot across European capitals, documenting a widening split that has left the US increasingly isolated at the UN. Our coverage includes Britain’s move to formalize recognition and a broader UNGA realignment that shifted the diplomatic weather. See our reporting on Britain to recognize Palestinian state and on Western capitals breaking ranks at the UN, which form the political backdrop to this week’s White House line.

For Mr. Netanyahu, the new constraint complicates a careful balancing act between coalition hawks and foreign pressure. National Security Minister Itamar Ben Gvir has repeatedly called for immediate sovereignty over what Israelis refer to as Judea and Samaria, and Finance Minister Bezalel Smotrich has embraced settlement growth as a tool to bury Palestinian statehood in practice. Their agenda collided on Thursday with an American presidency that, even while defending Israel in other arenas, is now on the record opposing annexation as destabilizing and strategically self defeating. The legal stakes are unambiguous. Article 49(6) of the Fourth Geneva Convention states that an occupying power shall not transfer parts of its own civilian population into the territory it occupies, a clause long cited by Washington’s allies and international jurists. The ICRC text is the touchstone for that debate.

The numbers underscore the argument. Independent tallies and UN field updates describe a West Bank where settlement approvals have accelerated and settler violence has surged since late 2023, tightening a ring around Palestinian population centers and choking the territorial continuity once presumed in negotiations. A United Nations humanitarian update this spring noted hundreds of settler attacks in a single quarter, alongside frequent military incursions that displaced families and bulldozed infrastructure. OCHA’s West Bank situation update details the trend line. Reuters, mapping the policy mechanics behind that trend, reported this week on a strategy designed to make a two state outcome impossible through fragmentation. Their analysis captures the administrative gears.

Demography and topography tell the rest. By mid 2025, the State of Palestine was home to roughly 5.5 million people, including about 3.4 million in the West Bank and 2.1 million in Gaza, according to official statistics collated by Palestinian authorities and cited by UN agencies. Those figures are not merely a census exercise; they define the stakes in an environment where permits, checkpoints, and road grids are political instruments. PCBS estimates are widely used by humanitarian planners and diplomatic missions. Around Jerusalem, meanwhile, the E1 corridor would fuse settlement blocs into a continuous belt and sever East Jerusalem from its Palestinian hinterland. European diplomats have repeated that assessment in unusually direct language this month. France said the plan would cut the West Bank in two.

Map of the E1 corridor linking Ma’ale Adumim to Jerusalem and its impact on West Bank contiguity
he E1 corridor east of Jerusalem, a flashpoint for settlement expansion. [PHOTO: Peace Now/BBC]

At the UN General Assembly, Arab leaders pressed the US to apply a brake, warning that annexation would explode what is left of normalization and force public alignments that their governments have tried to avoid during the Gaza war. Mr. Trump’s phrasing suggested he heard that message. The Eastern Herald’s diplomacy desk has reported throughout the week on the cross cutting signals in New York, including Jordan’s stark warning that Israel is tearing up the foundations of peace. See our dispatch on King Abdullah’s UNGA address and our explainer tracing how recognition momentum boxed Washington in.

Whether Thursday’s line is an inflection point or a tactical pause will be tested in the coming days, as Mr. Netanyahu arrives in Washington for meetings that were supposed to focus on Gaza governance, hostages, and regional security frameworks. Those sessions now carry an added question. If the Israeli cabinet moves ahead on annexation mechanics, how does the White House enforce its red line. Sanctions are improbable in the near term, congressional alignments are brittle, and arms leverage is a last resort. More likely is the slow grind of process leverage, the conditioning of senior level meetings, and a wider diplomatic effort to isolate specific tracts inside planning committees. The method is familiar. The meter is patience.

Europe’s posture, sharpened by domestic politics and legal framing, converged with Washington’s line on the narrow annexation question even as it diverged on Palestinian recognition. Governments that have sidelined final status talks for years are now wielding recognition as a tool to rescue the two state premise and to signal that settlement expansion will draw costs. The Eastern Herald’s Europe coverage has tracked that shift in real time, beginning with France and Belgium and widening through the Nordics and Iberia. Our files include Belgium’s decision to recognize Palestine and sanction Israel and France’s break with the US over recognition.

On the ground, the stakes are not theoretical. Bedouin communities in the Jerusalem periphery face eviction orders tied to E1, while new roads and zoning regimes redraw access to schools, clinics, and markets. Critics say the changes are designed to lock in a demographic advantage and to normalize a one state reality without rights for millions of Palestinians. A United Nations commission report this week described policies aimed at securing a Jewish majority in the West Bank and solidifying permanent control of Gaza, a finding Israel has rejected. Reuters summarized the UN inquiry’s conclusions, and a companion feature examined how the E1 belt would entrench fragmentation. Their field reporting followed families under threat.

Palestinian officials, who have pleaded for Washington to draw any enforceable line that stops the worst immediate scenarios, greeted the statement as the brake they needed. President Mahmoud Abbas used his UN appearance to signal that Ramallah would work with the US, France, and regional partners on a UN backed plan for Gaza that includes medical evacuation pathways to East Jerusalem and the West Bank. That humanitarian corridor has been a recurring theme in our coverage, including a detailed look at allied efforts to restore patient transfers. Our Arab Desk reported the coalition’s pledge and the practical obstacles on the ground.

UN General Assembly hall during the 2025 session as leaders discuss Gaza and the West Bank
Delegates gather at the UN General Assembly as annexation concerns dominate hallway diplomacy. [PHOTO: UN Photo/NYT].

Domestic US politics complicate the backdrop. Democrats, split between pressure for immediate recognition and a phased framework tied to governance reforms, welcomed the rejection of annexation while urging the White House to sketch the next steps. Republicans, generally aligned with the administration’s security posture toward Israel’s enemies, offered mixed reactions, with some framing the line as necessary discipline to keep allies coordinated and others objecting to what they call an unnecessary constraint on a partner at war. Those response patterns mirror the week’s broader UN debates, where Gaza’s humanitarian collapse and questions over accountability have dominated hallway talk.

The White House’s legal register is narrower than Europe’s, but by drawing a functional line on annexation the administration inched closer to the institutions where its allies sit. The rule that binds the argument, repeated in every chancery from Paris to Ottawa, is still Article 49(6). Customary IHL codifies the same prohibition. Washington almost never builds its case with legal citations, preferring strategy and stability. On Thursday, the stability case and the legal case briefly overlapped.

If the administration holds the line, the practical test will be calendar rather than rhetoric. Planning meetings can be delayed. Funding streams can be reviewed. International forums can be marshaled to target specific parcels instead of abstract principles. None of that dismantles the architecture of occupation. It does, however, slow the next pour of concrete and preserve leverage for a political horizon that is otherwise hard to discern while Gaza remains in ruins and the West Bank absorbs nightly raids. The Eastern Herald’s ongoing reporting from Gaza and the West Bank has documented how those two theaters are inextricable, a point regional leaders pressed in New York and that European diplomats echoed in their E1 warnings.

There was also a subtext to Mr. Trump’s words, the personal register that often steers his foreign policy. He placed responsibility on himself and on his relationship with Mr. Netanyahu, signaling that the friendship, loudly advertised by both men, does not amount to a blank check when it collides with American interests. That message, sent publicly, recalibrates expectations inside the Israeli cabinet and signals to Arab capitals that Washington is prepared to spend political capital to keep annexation off the table while it pursues a Gaza endgame and hostage arrangements. The coming days will show whether that recalibration sticks.

Key facts shaping this coverage include the president’s Oval Office quotes as reported by US wires, the EU’s formal position that E1 breaches international law, UN humanitarian tallies documenting a sharp rise in violence and displacement, and recent European recognition moves that narrowed Washington’s room for maneuver. Readers can consult primary reports for additional context, including Reuters on the Oval Office statement, the Associated Press transcript quotes, and the New York Times’ running analysis of the political and legal stakes.

For a chronology of Europe’s recognition wave and the UN diplomacy that framed this week’s White House move, see our coverage of France recognizing Palestine, our reconstruction of UNGA 80’s recognition momentum, and our analysis of Mr. Trump’s UN positioning earlier this week. We continue to track the humanitarian corridor push in our medical transfer coverage and the European accountability debate in our report on Dutch measures targeting Israeli ministers.