The image is absurd, almost laughable: King Charles III on bended knee before Donald Trump. A monarch, custodian of centuries of tradition and symbol of stoic dignity, reduced to a supplicant before a man who delights in shredding every convention in sight. It seems unimaginable, and yet, in the way Western leaders approach Trump, it feels closer to reality than metaphor. What should be unthinkable, the softening of democratic dignity in the hope of taming a megalomaniac, has become a strategy repeated with alarming regularity.
Trump does not inspire the kind of diplomacy that rewards patience and grace. He devours it. He thrives on the idea that the room, the handshake, the pause in the sentence all orbit around him. He is a man convinced that deference equals validation, and validation equals power. And so time and again, figures who should stand tall bend ever so slightly, hedging, appeasing, wrapping their words in soft gauze as though he might be soothed into reason.
This dance around Trump is more than political calculation. It’s a slow leak of dignity. Leaders, diplomats, royals even institutions, find themselves treating him as a fragile piece of explosive machinery: volatile, temperamental, needing careful handling lest he detonate. But here is the irony. By treating him this way, they hand him exactly what he craves: the power to unsettle, the power to command through chaos.
Imagine the symbolism of a monarch yielding to a man whose entire political career has been built not on service or sacrifice but on spectacle and self-promotion. A crown that has weathered wars, scandals, abdications, and reinventions, suddenly appearing brittle before a personality cult across the Atlantic. Of course, Charles has not physically kneeled before Trump, but the metaphor captures the unsettling truth: democracies have been bending themselves into knots to accommodate him, pretending that the gestures of politeness might tame the narcissist in the room.
The tragedy here isn’t Trump’s ego. That remains consistent, bloated, impossible to ignore. The tragedy is how established powers respond to it. Rather than confronting, they cushion. Rather than asserting principle, they massage his. What began as pragmatism, the need to keep dialogue open, has morphed into something more corrosive. It is the erosion of self-respect under the weight of one man’s vanity.
Part of this is fear. Trump doesn’t play by the rules of diplomacy, and so others fear the fallout of pushing back too hard. He is not bound by shame, by precedent, or even by consistency. His unpredictability is a weapon. When leaders sit across from him, they calculate not what will be gained, but what might be lost: the insult that could spiral into economic retaliation, the snub that might morph into a broken alliance. And so they step softly, each gesture calibrated to keep the storm contained.
But what does it mean when the guardians of dignity become caretakers of chaos? The monarchy, with its centuries-old pageantry, relies on the perception of steadiness. Governments rely on the perception of principle. When both bend to flatter the whims of a man whose only loyalty is to his own reflection, something foundational erodes. It’s not just about Trump. It’s about what his treatment reveals: a willingness to shrink in order to manage, to appease rather than confront.
There is also, undeniably, an element of spectacle in all this. Trump loves the image of being deferred to, of being the center of ceremonies that should not belong to him. The photo-op of leaders lining up, the handshakes held a second too long, the awkward smiles, these are trophies in his private museum of self-importance. And when institutions lend themselves to that theatre, they lend him their legitimacy.
Of course, defenders argue it’s just pragmatism. Better to stroke the ego than risk the tantrum. Better to flatter than to face the consequences of confrontation. But history is rarely kind to those who bow too easily. Compromise becomes complicity. And once dignity is surrendered, it is difficult to reclaim.
Picture the alternative for a moment: a monarch, or a prime minister, or a president standing their ground, speaking with clarity, refusing to indulge the performance. The world would not collapse. Trump would rage, as he always does, but the point would be made: respect is mutual, not unilateral. The refusal to bend is not just personal pride; it is institutional survival. Democracies cannot afford to look like courtiers in the court of a man who fashions himself king of chaos.
The deeper danger is not Trump himself but the normalization of bending. If he is treated as someone whose ego must be managed at the expense of dignity, then others will inherit that precedent. The next strongman will expect the same. The cycle will continue, each time whittling away a little more of the principle that power should serve the public, not the self.
So yes, the image of Charles kneeling before Trump is ridiculous. But it is also haunting, because it crystallizes the question at the heart of this era: how much dignity are democracies willing to surrender in the hope of taming the untamable? The answer so far is not reassuring.
Trump is not a storm to be waited out. He is a test. And the way leaders respond to him says more about them than about him. The crown, the office, the flag, these symbols survive because those who wear them understand they are bigger than one man’s ego. To bend too far is to forget that truth.
Because once you’ve kneeled, standing up again is never quite the same.
Subcultures are social representations of how youth in a society may be perceived or represented in terms of conformity to regulation, progress, and general compliance and well being. This is significant in that it speaks to us about the direction of social life among people, and what correlations exist within good and bad and beneficence and malfeasance. (1) Youth subcultures exist and arise out of the social contexts and concepts of belonging found among young people in schools, neighborhoods, on the internet and social media, and in participating in various forms of sports and leisure activities.(2)These social contexts provide space and time for gathering and some form of social organization. Belonging in youth subcultures comes from agreement, likability, and common purpose towards short-term and long-term goals. Most youth subcultures have some component of culture, whether beneficent or deviant, as its focus in giving meaning and defining purpose for its members. Subcultures found among adults quite often find belonging in political or social ideology. (3)
Youth subcultures found across North America and other nations have three common characteristics:
Subcultures are usually based on leisure rather than on work activity or family belonging. Instead of being individual centric, family centric or friend centric, the peer group organization concept is how many such subcultures organize themselves.(4) This simply means that young people who have common interests and concerns share ideas and work towards common and somewhat defined goals. A manifestation of this type of belonging includes youth protest movements, charitable sales events, climate change awareness, and even jocks among jocks and skaters among skaters. (5)
What are the Characteristics of Youth Subcultures?
Youth subcultures are better understood in being characterized by four distinct types. These characteristic-based types of subcultures are social representations of how youth may be perceived or represented in terms of social conformity to regulation, progress, and general compliance and well being. This is significant in that it speaks to us about the direction of social life among young people, and what correlations exist within good and bad and beneficence and malfeasance. Respectable youth are groups of young men and women engaged and involved in approved social activities which contribute to general well being in the community and society.
This youth subculture is a negative reference type for the other group types. (6) Respectable youth often have legitimate part-time jobs, find belonging in sports and other such recreational activities, volunteer in the community and at home, and often plan and prepare for an academic life at college and university. Representations among youth subcultures exist also where there is a distinct type of social or political association. (7)
Youth Sense of Social Belonging
This is found among climate change subcultures and those youth whose belonging in leisure and community efforts focuses on promoting a political party, whether liberal or conservative.
Delinquent youth are those that are characterized by loitering, tagging with spray painting and graffiti, and piecing with drawing large murals of art by way of graffiti. These forms of cultural expression provide space and context to delinquent youth. There are quite a few representations of delinquent youth subcultures, some of which are characterized by music,while others by a social style or behavioral code.
Deficiencies found in delinquent youth subcultures manifest in the form of young men and women being bored, over supervised, and paid poorly. These deficient youth, who were deemed deficient due to a lack of opportunity and already existing deficiencies within the social systems in place, grew increasingly alienated from mainstream society and people of status and opportunity. In schools and neighborhoods, these alienated youth found context and belonging with one another. The purpose in better understanding this type is to help find social context and belonging, rather than manifest deficiency in status. (8)
In retrospect, some youth subcultures are born from social deselection which came about from deficiencies in various domains of society, while others came from demographics simply wanting to express their views on lack of opportunity and social precarity. (9) Youth subcultures are social representations of young people which speak to us about youth belonging, organization, conformity and nonconformity, and the state of well being. Our understanding of subcultures in society provides for a better, just, and diverse tomorrow.
References 1. Khawaja, M., “A World Community. Knowing Societies, Cultures, and Values” Lambert Academic Publishing, 2024. 2. Deutschmann, L., “Deviance and Social Control”, pp.261-267. 3. Ibid. 4. Ibid. 5. Khawaja, M., “A World Community, Knowing Societies, Cultures, and Values”. 6. Ibid. 7. Deutschmann, L., “Deviance and Social Control”. 8. Ibid. 9. Ibid.
Mohammad Momin Khawaja is an enthusiastic graduate student at Athabasca University, Alberta pursuing a Master degree program-MAIS with a global vision of education and cherishes lifelong learning as a discipline and a continuous movement of life for change and adaptability to be a successful futuristic educator. He has authored: “Women in Ancient Cultures” Lulu Press, NC, USA, 2025, and “A World Community Knowing Societies, Cultures and Values, 2024. He is a member of the Canadian Sociology Association, International Journalism Association,USA, and Independent Institute of Journalism (IIJ), USA. As a freelance journalist, he enjoys writing research papers on current social, humanitarian affairs, law and social justice, indigenous people and cultures and Canadian youths education and training.
Politico’s report that Beatrix von Storch, deputy leader of Germany’s far-right Alternative for Germany (AfD), held talks at the White House this week should make alarms ring loudly on both sides of the Atlantic. This is not a routine meeting. This is not just another politician passing through Washington for a handshake photo-op. This is a member of a party with roots in neo-Nazi sympathies, openly racist rhetoric, and contempt for democracy walking through the symbolic and literal seat of American power. And it matters.
At first glance, some might dismiss this story as another entry in the endless churn of political headlines. Washington entertains foreign officials daily, and not all of them are democratic paragons. But this moment is different. It is about whom the AfD represents and what it signals when its leaders are treated with even a shred of legitimacy by one of the most influential political addresses in the world.
The AfD is not just a right-wing party. It is a party that thrives on conspiracy theories, fuels hatred against immigrants, Muslims, and Jews, and openly undermines the foundations of post-war German democracy. Its leaders have flirted with Holocaust relativism, downplayed Nazi crimes, and attacked the very pillars of the liberal order that has kept Europe stable for nearly eight decades. For Beatrix von Storch, infamous for her extreme rhetoric, including suggestions about shooting refugees at borders, to be welcomed into the White House sends a dangerous signal: that such politics are not only tolerable but worth engaging with at the highest level.
Europe has been here before, and it ended in catastrophe. Post-war Germany was deliberately built to guard against the very extremism that the AfD now embodies. Every institution, from its constitution to its political culture, was meant to be a safeguard. For decades, mainstream parties kept extremists isolated. Yet today the AfD sits in state parliaments, polls in double digits nationally, and increasingly shapes public debate in Germany. The fact that its deputy leader can now be hosted at the White House is a chilling reminder that the firewalls against fascism are crumbling not only in Europe but in the United States as well.
To understand why this matters, one has to step back and see the broader picture. The rise of the far right is not a German story, nor an American story, it is a transatlantic phenomenon. In Europe, populist nationalists are gaining ground from Italy to Hungary, from Poland to France. In the United States, Trumpism reshaped the Republican Party, normalizing extremist rhetoric, attacks on institutions, and open contempt for democratic norms. When a figure like von Storch appears in Washington, it isn’t a coincidence; it is a sign of a deeper ideological alliance, a shared playbook across borders.
What makes this especially troubling is the symbolism of the White House itself. For millions around the world, the White House stands as a beacon of democracy. It represents the fight against fascism in World War II, the post-war order, the defence of freedom. To allow a far-right extremist to sit down under its roof chips away at that symbolism. It hands the AfD a propaganda victory: proof to their supporters back home that they are no longer fringe, no longer untouchable, but players on the global stage. In their narrative, the White House visit confirms their legitimacy.
There is also the moral question: what does it mean for American democracy to offer legitimacy to those who despise it? The United States once prided itself on being the leader of the free world, a nation that championed human rights and fought tyranny. But what message is sent when its government entertains someone whose politics openly mock those ideals? The message is that power, not principle, is what matters now.
Some will argue that engagement is necessary, that ignoring the far right does not make it disappear. Perhaps. But there is a line between engagement and endorsement. There is a difference between confronting extremism and handing extremists a global platform. When the setting is the White House, the distinction collapses. It is impossible to spin the optics. For von Storch and the AfD, simply being there is victory enough.
What should terrify us is how quickly the unimaginable becomes normal. Ten years ago, the idea of AfD leaders shaking hands with American officials in Washington would have seemed absurd. Today, it passes as a news item in the week’s cycle. Tomorrow, it may be forgotten altogether. This creeping normalization is how democracies erode, not with one dramatic coup but with a thousand small concessions, each one chipping away at the taboo against extremism.
The consequences extend beyond symbolism. Europe is already trembling under the weight of far-right gains, with governments bending to their agendas or outright run by them. If the United States signals, through its actions, that it sees such forces as acceptable partners, it weakens the democratic coalition across the Atlantic. It emboldens those in Europe who want to dismantle liberal values, and it isolates those still fighting to preserve them. It whispers to extremists everywhere: your time is coming.
This is why the meeting should not be shrugged off. It demands outrage. It demands clarity from leaders in Washington who must answer why someone like von Storch was invited at all. It demands accountability from those who treat fascism as just another flavour of politics. And it demands vigilance from citizens who cannot afford complacency.
The story of the 20th century taught us the price of underestimating the far right. We are now living in a moment where that lesson is at risk of being forgotten. When the far right walks through the White House door, history itself is knocking, asking whether we will repeat the mistakes of the past.
The sea does not forget. Waves carry the weight of the discarded, and in Myanmar’s waters, that burden is once again the Rohingya. Refugees who once clung to the fragile hope of safety are being dumped, left adrift like unwanted cargo. The images evoke an old cruelty, entire populations erased from land, culture, and history. And now, India, a nation that once styled itself as a refuge for the persecuted, has been caught secretly sending these refugees back to the very regime that wiped out their communities. It is a betrayal, but more than that, it is a statement.
For years, Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s government has wrapped itself in the rhetoric of security and nationalism, while Islamophobia has bled into policy. The Rohingya, already stripped of citizenship in Myanmar, are treated as subhuman intruders in India. Even their children are spoken of as “threats.” Deporting them in silence, in secrecy, is not simply a logistical choice; it is the cold signature of prejudice turned into governance.
This is not an isolated act. It is part of a long continuum of erasure, pushed under the banners of nationalism and security. India has tolerated pogroms, watched mobs lynch Muslims in broad daylight, and written laws that distinguish between religions as though citizenship itself can be sliced along lines of belief. And so, when the state quietly escorts the Rohingya to the borders of their annihilation, it is only the logical extension of this history.
What makes this moment so dangerous is not just the crime itself, but the silence around it. When journalists uncover the truth, when a CNN report reveals the human cargo cast off into uncertainty, there is outrage for a day, perhaps two. But Modi knows the rhythm of modern politics: international condemnation fades, and memory is short. Domestic applause, however, is long and loud, and to his core base, cruelty against Muslims is not a scandal, it is a promise kept.
The question that hangs over this act is chilling: is this only the prologue to something darker?
History’s most brutal genocides did not arrive in a single night. They were built brick by brick, law by law, silence by silence. The stripping of rights, the branding of an entire people as outsiders, the gradual encirclement of their communities, the quiet deportations, these are the warning drums. Myanmar’s generals understood this well. Modi understands it, too.
To suggest that India might one day be capable of a genocide against its Muslim minorities feels unthinkable, until one looks closely. The groundwork is already there. A government that openly promotes Hindu nationalism as state identity. A police force and judiciary too often complicit in anti-Muslim violence. A political culture that thrives on portraying Muslims as infiltrators, criminals, or terrorists. And now, the callous rejection of the world’s most persecuted minority, delivered back to their executioners.
The Rohingya’s plight is not simply their own; it is a mirror held up to India’s future. When a state practices cruelty on the weakest among us, it is only a rehearsal for larger stages. If a stateless refugee child can be deported without outrage, what stops the machinery from turning inward, against India’s 200 million Muslims?
The defence, of course, is always the same: national security, border control, the need to protect sovereignty. But strip the slogans away, and the truth remains—this is prejudice masquerading as policy. It is not India’s borders that are under threat. It is India’s moral core.
Modi’s legacy is already marked with violence. From the blood of Gujarat in 2002 to the present-day demonization of Muslims, his political career has been built on a foundation of fear and division. To call him Islamophobic is not an insult; it is an observation of fact. And when such prejudice guides a leader’s hand, deportation today can become extermination tomorrow.
The world must ask: will Modi’s future also be written in the language of genocide?
It is a question too terrifying to ask lightly, yet too urgent to ignore. The signs are visible. The persecution of Muslims in India is no longer fringe, it is mainstream. It is policy. And history shows us that once a society accepts cruelty against one group, the scale of violence only grows.
For the Rohingya, the ocean has become both prison and grave. For India, the deportations mark another step away from its democratic ideals, another betrayal of its founding vision of pluralism and refuge. This is not merely about refugees on boats. It is about a government choosing cruelty as a principle, prejudice as a policy, and silence as a shield.
The sea may not forget. Neither should we. India stands at a dangerous threshold. It can pull back, confront its Islamophobia, and reclaim the ideals it once professed to believe in. Or it can march forward, deeper into the darkness of nationalism, where deportation is just the beginning, and genocide is not an unthinkable nightmare but a looming possibility.
The future of the Rohingya, and perhaps of millions more, depends on the choice India makes today.
On Monday, VP JD Vance seized the microphone of “The Charlie Kirk Show” from the White House, and with that gesture alone, he made a statement louder than any of the words that tumbled from his mouth. The stunt was not a simple act of political theater, it was a performance designed to show the nation exactly what Vance values and, more importantly, what he despises.
He despises democracy. He despises the unruly, inconvenient nature of freedom of speech when it isn’t echoing his own voice. He despises the fragile scaffolding of equality, the idea that every American, regardless of background, is supposed to have a fair stake in shaping the country’s direction. He despises Democrats, yes, but more broadly he despises the whole notion of parliamentary give-and-take, that tedious process of compromise which keeps authoritarianism at bay.
This was not a vice president showing the country leadership. This was a man giddy with the thrill of dominion, stepping into a media space, flashing a grin, and treating politics like a game where only one side deserves a platform. By turning a show built on grievance politics into a pulpit from the White House itself, Vance signaled that his project is not governance, but control. He isn’t interested in persuasion. He is interested in domination.
It would be tempting to dismiss this as another media stunt, just another headline to irritate and then fade. But that misses the deeper meaning of the moment. In a country already split by distrust, where institutions are creaking under the strain of polarization, the vice president chose not to lower the temperature but to light another match. His choice of venue was not random. Charlie Kirk’s show is an echo chamber of youthful right-wing outrage, a carnival of suspicion toward the very structures that hold the republic together. For Vance to commandeer it from the seat of government was no accident; it was a signal flare to his supporters: the culture war is not simply on the airwaves, it’s now a tool of the executive branch.
And let’s be honest, this is not about communication. This is about contempt. Contempt for the democratic project, which relies on friction, debate, and yes, discomfort. Contempt for the principle that speech must be free even when it unsettles, even when it challenges the comfort of those in power. Vance is betting that enough Americans are tired of the messiness of democracy, that they’d rather trade it for the neat simplicity of a strong hand guiding the wheel.
But here’s the problem for him: democracy is not meant to be neat. It is meant to be loud, unpredictable, occasionally infuriating. Freedom of speech is not meant to guarantee applause, it is meant to guarantee dissent. Equality is not a slogan for billboards, it is a grinding, imperfect, daily struggle to make sure that power doesn’t calcify in the hands of the few. To mock these principles from the White House itself is not only cynical, it’s corrosive.
Vance, in this episode, revealed less about the Democrats he loathes and more about himself. He revealed a craving for authority dressed up as populism. He revealed a distrust of the very public he claims to champion. He revealed that, deep down, he does not believe in the people, he believes in their submission.
There’s a pattern here. Time and again, Vance has framed politics as war, not debate. In war, you don’t compromise, you crush. In war, you don’t persuade, you silence. In war, you don’t value the other side’s voice, you eliminate it. By assuming the role of host in a media space designed to amplify one side and erase the other, Vance acted out the politics of war live on air. He wasn’t speaking to America; he was speaking to his army.
The irony is thick. A man sitting in the second-highest office in a democracy using his platform to sneer at democracy itself. A vice president wielding freedom of speech not to expand dialogue but to shrink it to the narrow bandwidth of his own ideology. A politician who once pretended to be a critic of power now intoxicated by it, showing the world that his true north is not principle, but domination.
It is worth remembering that democracies rarely die in a single moment of collapse. They corrode slowly, often under the weight of small gestures that seem at first like bluster, until one day the bluster has hardened into policy. A vice president turning a political talk show into an organ of power might look like a stunt. But history tells us it is often the stunts that test the boundaries of what the public will tolerate. If tolerated, they become the new normal.
We should not get used to this. We should not shrug it off as political theater. We should see it for what it is: a declaration of hostility toward the principles that make self-government possible. Democracy is fragile precisely because it depends on the people’s willingness to defend it, to call out contempt when it struts across the stage and pretends it is strength.
Vice President Vance wanted to show us who he really is. On Monday, he did exactly that. The question now is whether the rest of us are willing to believe him.
Kyriakos Mitsotakis’ image is not only shattered but drowned in the murky waters of corruption scandals and discriminatory policies. Faced with dwindling popularity and mounting criticism, the prime minister appears to be reaching for a dangerous lifeline: cozying up to the far-right fringe.
The clearest sign of this reckless maneuvering came with the shocking early release of the criminal and convicted Nazi leader of Golden Dawn, a man whose party was not just a political aberration but a violent, organized criminal gang. This move did not happen in a vacuum. It came at a time when Mitsotakis’ own credibility has been battered by revelations of wiretapping scandals, nepotism, and a government machine that increasingly operates with disdain for democratic norms. To free such a figure earlier than justice demanded is not merely a judicial decision, it is a political statement.
Every democrat in Greece, regardless of party affiliation, should feel provoked, even betrayed. For years, the long and painstaking legal process against Golden Dawn was held up as proof that Greek democracy could defend itself against those who sought to destroy it. The trials were exhaustive, the evidence overwhelming, the verdict historic: Greece would not tolerate fascism masquerading as politics. By allowing this early release, Mitsotakis not only mocks that victory but legitimizes the very forces that the justice system sacrificed so much to contain.
This decision reeks of desperation. Mitsotakis sees his grip on power weakening and has chosen to flirt with the same extreme elements that once thrived in the shadows of Greece’s economic and political collapse. Rather than confront them, he feeds them oxygen. Rather than stand firmly on the side of democratic principles, he chooses the cynical calculation of short-term political survival. It is the kind of choice that leaders often justify as “realpolitik,” but in reality, it is cowardice dressed up as strategy.
The release of Golden Dawn’s leader does not simply concern one man. It sends a broader, darker message: that the far right is once again a legitimate player in Greek political life. The timing could not be worse. Across Europe, far-right movements are resurging, fueled by economic insecurity, migration anxieties, and populist anger. By enabling this, Mitsotakis is placing Greece back on the map as fertile ground for the very forces that once terrorized its streets, attacked immigrants, and undermined its democracy.
What makes this particularly galling is Mitsotakis’ own political pedigree. As the heir of a dynasty that has long presented itself as guardians of democracy and European values, he is betraying not just his office but his very lineage. His father, Konstantinos Mitsotakis, might not have been universally loved, but he understood the importance of steering Greece away from authoritarian temptations. His son, however, seems willing to gamble with the very soul of Greek democracy in exchange for a few more points in the polls.
And let us be clear: this is not a decision the Greek public asked for. Ordinary citizens did not march in the streets demanding leniency for a convicted fascist. Families who suffered from Golden Dawn’s thuggery did not plead for mercy. Migrant workers who were beaten, journalists who were threatened, and politicians who were targeted have no interest in seeing their tormentors walk free. This was a decision made at the top, in a political climate carefully managed by spin doctors and strategists who believe that fear and division are more useful tools than unity and progress.
The damage, however, will not be confined to the corridors of power. On the ground, the release will embolden extremists. It will give a green light to those who still dream of reviving Golden Dawn or something even more poisonous. It will whisper to disillusioned youth that perhaps the system is secretly on their side. It will encourage violence by suggesting that consequences are negotiable, justice flexible, and democratic principles expendable.
Mitsotakis might believe he can control this fire. He might imagine that by allowing a calculated opening to the far right, he can siphon off its voters without unleashing its chaos. History teaches us otherwise. The far right is never satisfied with crumbs; it always demands more. And when mainstream leaders grant it legitimacy, they end up devoured by it. We have seen this pattern repeat from Weimar Germany to modern-day Hungary. To think Greece will be different is to ignore both history and common sense.
In moments like this, silence is complicity. Every Greek democrat, every party that still believes in the Constitution, every journalist who refuses to bend, must call this what it is: a betrayal of democratic values for cheap political gain. The release of Golden Dawn’s leader should not be normalized, rationalized, or brushed aside as a technicality. It is a moral and political earthquake, and its aftershocks will be felt for years.
Mitsotakis had a choice. He could have chosen to confront his scandals with transparency, to clean house, to restore trust through accountability. He could have embraced reform and stood firmly against extremism. Instead, he has chosen the path of expedience, leaning into the ugliest elements of Greek political life. That path may preserve his seat for a time, but it will leave the country poorer, weaker, and more divided.
Greek democracy is resilient, but it is not indestructible. Leaders matter. Choices matter. And when those choices include cozying up to fascism, the cost will be paid not just by Mitsotakis but by every citizen who still dares to believe that democracy, justice, and freedom mean something in this country.
I don't know Simon Ekpa, the recently jailed Nigerian, by the Finnish authorities. I won't even claim an acquaintance with him. He is not in my generation; he is in his forties, and I'm quite older than him. However, we are both citizens of a nation that has refused to get up despite its huge potential. Simon Ekpa was not jailed for carrying cocaine or for online scamming, two most popular crimes for which Nigerians go to jail abroad.
Simon Ekpa was arrested in Finland, tried and jailed for terrorism. Forty-year-old Simon Ekpa had traveled to Finland to pursue education but had abandoned that to pursue another interest, the one that he thought would set Biafra separate from Nigeria by illegal means. Biafra is the nation conceived in the heart of late Colonel Odumegwu Ojukwu, once a soldier in the Nigerian Army who later rebelled against his nation because of a very deep and violent conflict between his Igbo tribe and the Hausa in the north, which led to massive killings of the Igbo who live in the North. When all those happened, Simon Ekpa had not been born. How come it is the generation of Simon Ekpa that is continuing a war that was supposedly ended in 1970? The generality of Igbo will tell you Phillip Effiong, who on January 12 surrendered Biafra to Nigeria, predicted that a generation will arise that will resurrect that war if the Nigerian side does not fulfill its three R's promise: reconciliation, rehabilitation and reconstruction. The current youth who were not born at the end of that war and who could not have known the situation at the time are now taking up cudgels again, saying those promises were not fulfilled. How did they know what was done and what was not done? It could only be the work of insidious propaganda.
I began to recognize Simon Ekpa on Facebook. He was not my friend, but he had a way of spreading himself through that ubiquitous social media. I saw him almost every night. His dressings were weird, almost wearing no shirt and appearing like a Zulu warrior far away in South Africa. I did not like him at all. Who is he, and what does he mean for Nigeria and the Igbo? He joined the Nnamdi Kanu-led Indigenous People of Biafra, IPOB. Nnamdi Kanu himself had branched out from MASSOB of Ralph Nwazurike when Kanu felt it was the wrong strategy to fight the Igbo cause with kid gloves. Ralph had stayed some time in India, where he had studied the non-violent resistance of Mahatma Gandhi and thought that it would also work in Nigeria. But while Uwazurike studied Gandhi, he did not study himself and his people. Money is a big problem in the east of Nigeria, and those who will fight with non non-violent strategy must be ready to die for the cause they fight. I don't think Uwazurike considered that before he embarked on his strategy. Before long, he fell to the allure of money. Now, as I write, MASSOB has broken into four factions, and it is difficult to know which one of them bears MASSOB again. Ralph Uwazurike is no longer in reckoning.
Kanu's IPOB found favour with the diaspora Igbo, who contributed money to his cause, which catapulted him to the centre stage in Igbo politics. But now he is in the gulag of the federal government, being tried for treason. All manner of strategies and maneuverings of his lawyers to get him freedom have failed, the most stupid being an appeal to Britain to rescue Kanu. But Britain got Kanu's people into the problem; so how dare Kanu and IPOB think the British will help them? Britain did not help during the Igbo civil war against Nigeria. Kanu and IPOB are not the only ones naive in approaching Britain for help, the Yoruba Odua nation also is, going to submit a petition to Britain to help them obtain freedom from the bondage; the same Britain had put them in. Chief Obafemi Awolowo, the leader of the Yoruba, did not do that. He refused the suggestion of his followers to escape to the UK as he faced a treason trial. How come now that an illiterate, Sunday Igboho, is the person leading the sons of Oduduwa to Britain to beg for freedom, which was granted in 1960: shame! How values have become lost.
Kanu's violence and propaganda were not hot enough for Simon Ekpa. He got control of Kanu's radio and, with it, was getting across to Nigeria. In a jiffy, he became more popular than Nnamdi Kanu and indeed took over IPOB. He formed a government in exile and began to coordinate a terrorist organization, calling himself the prime minister. The Eastern Security Network was formed by Nnamdi Kanu. It's a paramilitary wing of IPOB. It was later hijacked by Simon Ekpa, and in the guise of defending the Igbo from the attacks of Fulani herders who had become a thorn in the flesh of all Nigerians, became a thorn in the flesh not to Fulanis but to his brother Igbo. The Igbo graduates and traders he led into the bush, armed to the teeth, soon got stranded when their source of money dried up. This company of former armed robbers, jobless graduates, and illiterate traders soon turned fully to armed robbery and cultism. They declared 'sit-at-home' every Monday, first ruining the economy of Ndigbo, who became the lowest contributor to the nation's VAT pool and thereafter made life unlivable for the Igbo. The "sit-at-home" became an instrument for snatching vehicles of fellow Igbo and taking them across the border for sale. They kidnap fellow Igbo and collect ransom for some and use others for money rituals. The ESN, rather than kill Fulani who soon moved away from Igbo land, killed prominent Igbo men and women. It has been difficult to estimate accurately the number of Igbo people killed, but the International Society for Civil Liberties and Rule of Law (Intersociety) reported that between 1400 and 2400 people have been killed, while many more have been abducted and disappeared. The Governor of Anambra State, Professor Charles Soludo, who himself escaped death narrowly from the hands of these terrorists, has said it was not Fulani herders that are responsible for the killings in Anambra. He put the blame squarely on the Igbo. He said all the state security apparatus has arrested are Igbo.
Yes, it has to be. Who fights a war on its own land? America will never fight any war on its territory. But this is the second time Ndigbo is allowing war in its territory. It happened the first time when pompous Colonel Odumegwu Ojukwu, despite all advice to the contrary by late Chief Obafemi Awolowo and other Nigerian elders, not to allow a foolish war to be fought on Igbo land. It costs about a million Igbo lives. This is the second time around by another Igbo agitator, Simon Ekpa, who sat in Finland enjoying the company of girls of easy virtue as seen on a WhatsApp video while his terrorist organization is killing his own people and making lives unbearable. This is the ugly story of Nigeria as told for the second most painful time by Simon Ekpa. How did this story begin? And how can it be eradicated? It began with Dr. Nnamdi Azikiwe, the greatest human contribution of the Igbo stock to Nigerian politics. When Zik returned from the USA in 1937, it was with a big bang. He was well educated, having strived assiduously to obtain the Golden fleece. With his training in journalism and his MA degrees and his newspaper, West African Pilot, Dr. Nnamdi Azikiwe took Nigerian politics by storm, and he was elected immediately into the Central Executive Committee of the Nigerian Youth Movement, NYM, the organization at the forefront of the combat against the British colonizers. Azikiwe has both brain and brawn, and he deployed both against the white oppressors and, unfortunately, also against his colleagues who started the war before he arrived. His pen was very mighty and feared, but he had an ambition which was soon to destroy the NYM, which had been in the vanguard of securing independence for a united Nigeria. Azikiwe wanted the reputation of a nationalist, and in the eyes of many Nigerians, out of the Igbo stock, he got it, but in reality, he was an Igbo irredentist, even stirring that race to believe that it is superior to its neighbours, not only in Nigeria but also all over Africa.
In 1949, this is what Dr. Azikiwe said to the Ibo Federal Union, which he had helped form:
"It would appear that the God of Africa has specially created the Ibo nation to lead the children of Africa from the bondage of all ages... The martial prowess of the Ibo nation at all stages of human history has enabled them not only to conquer others but also to adapt themselves to the role of the preserver... The Ibo nation can not shirk its responsibility. Politically, you have seen with your own eyes how you were disenfranchised by the British... The Ibo nation has never been represented in the Executive Council... Economically, the Ibo nation has laboured under onerous taxation measures, without sufficient amenities to justify the same. We have been taxed without representation, and our contribution in taxes has been used to develop other areas, out of proportion to the incidence of taxation in those areas. It would seem that the Ibo nation is becoming a victim of economic annihilation through a gradual but studied process.”( Awo, pg 185 - 186).
Dr. Azikiwe, despite his nationalist acclaim, also began to use his newspapers to promote the achievements of his Igbo race while paying little or no attention to those of others. This made his opponent in the West charge him with dictatorship and proclaiming racial superiority. Chief Obafemi Awolowo, leader of Action Group, charged Zik thus in his autobiography, Awo page (186): "I am implacably opposed to dictatorship as well as the doctrine of Herrenvolk, whether it was Hitler's or Dr. Azikiwe’s." Herrenvolk doctrine, also known as the "master race theory was a central tenet of Nazi ideology under Adolf Hitler. It posited that the Germanic people, particularly those of the Nordic or Aryan race, were inherently superior to other ethnic groups. ( Meta AI) It manifested itself in persecution of others, genocide and expansion and militarism. So when you see today Nnamdi Kanu break away from MASSOB and asking for Igbos in diaspora to give him money for guns, you are seeing in him late Dr. Nnamdi Azikiwe, when you see the Igbo in diaspora contribute finance to buy guns and other ammunition, you are seeing Zik's Horrenvolk doctrine in manifestation. When you see Simon Ekpa ram into IPOB of Nnamdi Kanu, complaining that Kanu is not violent enough and setting up ESN and declaring a monthly sit-at-home to press for the Biafra state, you are seeing the late Dr. Nnamdi Azikiwe resurrect. When you saw Colonel Odumegwu Ojukwu take arms against his nation, Nigeria and refusing to be placated to give peace a chance, to remain in the Nigerian union so that a bigger nation can be built which can contain all diverse groups that made up Nigeria, what you saw is Zik's Horrenvolk. When Peter Obi cried in the 2003 election: "we are the most hard working in the nation and they have come to stop us" as he fought with Nasir El Rufai, he was manifesting Zik's Horrenvolk doctrine. When you see the Igbo of today clamouring that Lagos is No Man's Land and that they own it, when you see the Igbos in Ghana saying they control the land and the economy of Ghana, they are displaying Zik's Horrenvolk. When an Igbo man or woman tells you Igbo must be appointed to rule over the Nigeria Ports Authority or be the Controller General of Customs and Excise because they import the most in Nigeria, it is not because, as a Nigerian, he or she is not deserving of those positions; it is a manifestation of inherent Horrenvolk. When Igbo cries marginalization, he is echoing the Dr. Nnamdi Azikiwe. When Igbo says an Igbo must be governor in Lagos State, which is about 500 kilometers away from his homeland, it is a manifestation of Zik's Horrenvolk doctrine. When you see him buy properties as if those properties are running out of fashion, he is manifesting Zik's doctrine of Herrenvolk.
The Igbo race is very intelligent and greatly capable, but it has often surprised me why such a race of intelligent and widely travelled people always succumb to following rabid and rash leaders who don't think deeply before acting, until I came across this doctrine of Horrenvolk. Igbo are the best propagandists you can find in Nigeria, and I think they think propaganda can win wars all the time. Ojukwu felt he could win the civil war not by weapons, which he did not have but by propaganda, which he had in enormous supply. Zik, a man of much propaganda, abandoned him and defected to Nigeria when he saw the war was lost very early in that regrettable and unnecessary war. How would we as a nation come out of that terrible doctrine that is threatening to stop our march to greatness? We must all acknowledge that, however, bad Horrenvolk may be, our Igbo brothers and sisters have a case and deserve to be fairly treated. We need to have another constitution that will give us unity through federalism. Let every ethnicity control resources within its territory. As Chief Obafemi Awolowo said, it is impossible to administer a diverse nation by any other means. Our Igbo brothers and sisters and elders must also acknowledge that it is a height of ignorance and foolishness for any individual or race to think that they are superior to others. In Nigeria, we are very religious and in the east, especially where the majority are Catholics, it is very difficult to know how that doctrine crept into Zik and is still creeping into Ndigbo. Christianity teaches that God hates pride but gives grace to the humble. I think the Igbo need all the grace they can muster, but it is advisable that if they get grace, they must know how to avoid pride. In my view, the manifestation of Horrenvolk among the Igbo is a measure of the failure of the Catholic Church in that part of the world. Nnamdi Kanu and Simon Ekpa are stories of Horrenvolk in Nigeria. The two of them will soon be fellows in the Federal Government Gulag when Simon Ekpa, who is serving terms in a Finnish prison, is released and deported to Nigeria, according to rumours running on social media. Maybe the two of them will be a reason for the Igbo to rethink Horrenvolk.
First Published in METRO
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Tunde Akande is both a journalist and pastor. He earned a Master's degree in Mass Communication from the University of Lagos.
The Texas legislature has been busy sharpening its sword against abortion access. Just last week, lawmakers pushed through another measure in their ongoing crusade, empowering private citizens to sue doctors and drug manufacturers linked to abortion pills entering the state. It’s the latest in a series of aggressive maneuvers to choke off reproductive options for women, and it raises a glaring question: if Texas is so intent on enforcing “life,” why does all the responsibility for that life fall on women?
If the state truly believes that every conception carries an unshakable moral obligation, then the logical next step is simple: fathers should be required to support their children and the women carrying them, no matter how fleeting or casual the encounter that created them. No more slipping away quietly after a one-night stand, no more vanishing into the shadows of “not my problem.” If Texas wants to legislate morality, it should legislate responsibility equally. But it won’t.
Because here’s the uncomfortable truth: the weight of these laws has always been meant for women. Women are expected to carry pregnancies, women are expected to deal with the medical, financial, and emotional consequences, and women are expected to shoulder the judgment that follows. Men, meanwhile, get a hall pass. That imbalance is not incidental, it’s intentional.
Imagine, for a moment, if the legislature flipped the script. Imagine a law that mandated immediate recognition of paternity, enforced financial support beginning at the moment of conception, and required fathers to contribute not only money but also tangible support, transportation to prenatal appointments, half the cost of maternity care, shared responsibility for childcare. Picture a legal framework where men were tracked with the same zeal that women are now, where fleeing fatherhood was treated with the same severity as smuggling abortion pills.
Would Texas dare? Of course not. Because holding men accountable would mean dismantling the carefully cultivated narrative that places women alone at the center of this moral battlefield. It’s easier, politically and culturally, to demonize abortion than to demand responsibility from men. Easier to legislate against pills than to legislate against absentee fathers.
And yet, the hypocrisy is hard to ignore. The argument underpinning these laws is that “life begins at conception” and must be protected at all costs. But protecting life does not end at birth. Protecting life should mean ensuring that children are fed, clothed, educated, and supported. Protecting life should mean recognizing that bringing a child into the world requires the effort of two people, not just the one whose body does the work of gestation.
If the Texas legislature were serious about valuing life, it would draft laws requiring DNA testing at birth and immediate legal recognition of paternity. It would penalize men who attempt to dodge responsibility. It would guarantee that women are not left in poverty while men walk free. In fact, it could go further: if a woman is required to continue a pregnancy against her will, then the father should be required to shoulder half of every burden that pregnancy creates. That’s what true “family values” would look like.
But instead, Texas politics has built a system where women are controlled and punished, while men remain largely invisible. The debate centers on abortion because abortion is about women’s bodies, women’s choices, women’s autonomy. It is not an accident that men, whose choices are equally responsible for conception, are missing from the conversation. Their accountability would make the debate too honest.
This is not just a question of fairness; it’s a question of integrity. If lawmakers insist that women carry pregnancies under threat of legal reprisal, then men should not be permitted to shrug off their obligations. If women are bound by force of law, then men should be too. Anything less exposes the entire project as not about life at all, but about control.
Think of the single mothers already struggling to raise children without consistent support. Think of the women pushed into poverty while their children’s fathers build new lives elsewhere, unburdened. Think of how many of those stories begin with men who never intended to stick around. Texas lawmakers don’t seem interested in that reality, because acknowledging it would require them to confront a cultural imbalance that benefits men and disadvantages women.
The cruelty of the current trajectory is that it pretends to be about morality when it is really about politics. If the moral argument were genuine, it would be applied evenly. Both parents would be bound equally to the child. Both would be forced to sacrifice equally. But morality in Texas law has become selective, deployed as a weapon against women while sparing men the same scrutiny.
It’s easy to legislate against women’s options. It’s harder to legislate against men’s neglect. And so the imbalance grows deeper, and the rhetoric around “life” grows hollower.
If Texas wants to prove its sincerity, the next law should be one that forces men into the picture they have long been erased from. Require them to acknowledge every child, no matter how the child came to be. Force them to contribute, to show up, to accept the weight of their decisions. Bind them legally and financially until those children reach adulthood.
That would be consistency. That would be fairness. That would be justice.
But it would also expose the truth that the statehouse does not want to confront: the war on abortion was never really about life. It was about control, and the people being controlled were never the men.
