CANTO 35 #Thoughts by David Sparenberg

I dreamed we were a swarm of fallen damselflies, floating face down in the water of a gigantic toilet bowl, urinating. The yellow streams of hot, acidic waste were changing the chemical composition of the toilet water. The water began to heat and bubble and eventually boil.

The sides of the toilet bowl were towering walls of thick ice. As the heat of the toxic water increased, portions of the ice walls collapsed.

The bubbling, boiling water gushed and exploded into a raging geyser, spilling out in a torrent, flooding the bathroom floor. We were swept away. All of us were gone.

On August 26, 2026, a monumental geological disaster occurred. A portion of a glacier in the Himalayan Mountains violently collapsed into a lake, sending a colossal flash flood across a  sizeable region of Nepal and Tibet.

If you view video recordings of the disaster, the monstrous current of mud and water towers above buildings. Fleeing human beings appear reduced to the scale of ants before the savage, speeding torrent. Images are terrifying, surreal and nearly unimaginable. But the images are real-the reality shatters illusions.

The death count exceeds 900 and continues rising. The missing number in the thousands. Tourist destinations, villages, small towns, and transportation centers have disappeared.

This geo-disaster is not a subjective nightmare. It is not an apocalyptic movie to entertain our morbid apathy. It happened and was a terrifying, deadly reality in itself and a stark warning. Nobody needs to be a prophetic forecaster to tremble at the future of global warming.

Dante’s Inferno is written in 34 cantos. Canto number 35 is an addition to the rungs
of hell, added by the overshoot obsessions of the Technozoic Era – our current age of
machine-domination, total war, and the rapidly advancing tyranny of the artificial state.

Addendum, September 1, 2026: Here in Washington State, nicknamed the Evergreen
State due to our extensive forests, we have had 50+ wildfires this past summer. Thirty
deadwhales have washed up along the coast. As waters of Puget Sound and portions
ofthe Pacific heat up, oxygen levels drop and a variety of dead ocean fishes are coming
ashore along diverse beaches.

There are climate collapse events of floods, fires and prolonged heatwaves happening
globally, increasing in frequency and intensity year after year.
Greta Thunberg warned us that governments, even the best of them, are not doing
enough to combat global warming. In the United States, voters, refusing or unable to
connect the dots of common sense, have returned to the Presidency a criminally
depraved climate denier.

How much more suffering, loss and depletion will be endured before the sufficient
Reason of necessity transitions the planet from the encroaching Earth-Hells of the
technozoic death wish into the woke-gardens of an Ecozoic affirmation  and our species
realignmentwith evolutionary purpose? The question is not rhetorical.


David Sparenberg is a humanitarian and eco poet, an international essayist and storyteller. Currently David has six eBooks of poetry and prose published by OVI Books, Stockholm, Sweden. He recently completed a play, political and contemporary, but based in the traditions of German Expressionist Theatre, to be published shortly - currently available for production and performance. Interested? Contact.  David Sparenberg lives in Seattle, WA in the Pacific Northwest of the United States but identifies as an Ecotopian Citizen of Creation.

Charity without a conscience by Shanna Shepard

There is something almost painfully absurd about celebrating the International Day of Charity in an age when online scammers have turned generosity into a hunting ground, while governments increasingly treat genuine humanitarian work as an inconvenient expense.

The irony becomes particularly sharp when Donald Trump’s America enters the picture. Charity is supposed to be one of humanity’s simplest ideas: someone has something, someone else desperately needs it, and the first person decides to share. No ideology should be required. No passport should be checked. No political loyalty test should stand between a hungry child and a meal, or between a sick mother and medical care.

Yet the modern world has somehow managed to complicate even that. Online, generosity is constantly ambushed. Fake charities appear after earthquakes, wars, floods and fires. Fraudsters invent suffering because suffering sells. A photograph, a tragic caption and a donation button can be enough to turn compassion into somebody else's cryptocurrency portfolio. The internet has given humanity an extraordinary ability to help strangers—and an equally extraordinary ability to exploit them.

But if online scammers are the petty criminals of compassion, governments can become something more consequential when they decide that humanitarian assistance is expendable.

Trump's administration has dramatically reduced American foreign aid, with U.S. assistance falling sharply and further cuts proposed for humanitarian and global-health programmes. The administration's argument is familiar: America first, taxpayers first, domestic priorities first.

Fine. Governments have budgets. Governments have responsibilities. Nobody seriously argues that every aid programme is perfectly designed or that every dollar is spent intelligently.

But there is a gigantic difference between reforming charity and abandoning it. When aid programmes disappear, the people affected are rarely government ministers. They are usually people who have never heard of Washington's political arguments. They are mothers in clinics, children needing vaccines, refugees sleeping in camps, communities confronting famine, and local organisations trying to provide services that their own governments cannot afford.

That is the uncomfortable truth about charity: the people who need it don't get to vote on whether the billionaire, government or politician providing it has decided that they are sufficiently deserving.

And there is something especially cynical about celebrating compassion while withdrawing the resources that make compassion possible.

The hypocrisy becomes harder to ignore when humanitarian money is reduced while political causes that fit an administration's ideological preferences can still find funding. Recent proposals to direct American money towards conservative organisations and right-wing media initiatives in Europe illustrate how "America First" can become less about stopping foreign spending than about deciding which foreign spending is politically fashionable.

That isn't charity. That is influence dressed up as generosity. Real charity doesn't demand ideological obedience. It doesn't ask whether the hungry person supports your political party. It doesn't care whether the refugee reads the newspaper you like. It doesn't investigate whether the premature baby has the correct opinion about immigration. Compassion is not supposed to be a branch of political marketing.

And this is where International Day of Charity ought to make us uncomfortable rather than merely sentimental. Lighting buildings, posting inspirational quotations and sharing photographs of smiling volunteers is easy. The harder question is whether we are prepared to protect the institutions that actually deliver help and whether we are willing to distinguish legitimate charities from fraudsters without using the existence of scams as an excuse to abandon charity altogether.

Because the answer to fraudulent generosity cannot be less generosity. It should be better generosity. Verify before donating. Demand transparency. Support organisations with credible records. Give locally when appropriate and internationally when necessary. And, above all, remember that charity is not weakness.

It is civilisation. The online scammer understands something politicians sometimes forget: people are willing to give because they care about strangers. Perhaps that is precisely what we should refuse to


The royals need a little Harry and Meghan by Cassandra Sparks

Perhaps Harry and Meghan’s return is precisely what the British public and, rather more awkwardly, the royal family need at this particular moment.

Not because the Sussexes are about to resume royal duties. They are not. Not because the old quarrels have magically evaporated. They have not. And certainly not because Britain is suddenly suffering from a shortage of royal drama. Britain has never had that problem.

But the return of Harry, Meghan and their children to Britain after six years in California changes something important: it puts the family back into the same physical landscape. Archie and Lilibet will grow up with Britain not merely as a story told by their father, but as a place they actually know. Harry can be closer to his father. The royal family can, at least theoretically, become a family again.

That may sound terribly sentimental. It is also rather practical. The monarchy has always depended on an extraordinary mixture of symbolism and ordinary human theatre. The public does not merely watch constitutional functions; it watches families. It watches marriages, children, disagreements, reconciliations, funerals and Christmas lunches. The Windsors have survived precisely because, beneath all the ceremony, they remain recognisably human.

The Sussex rupture damaged that illusion. For years, the royal family has effectively been performing a strange television drama in which two of the principal characters have been written out but never quite disappeared. Harry and Meghan remained everywhere and nowhere: physically in California, emotionally entangled with Britain, permanently present in headlines and absent from family photographs.

Their return could finally end that peculiar arrangement. It does not require Charles to hand them a balcony seat or William to suddenly embrace his brother beneath the cameras. Indeed, that would probably be the worst possible approach. The Sussexes are returning as private citizens, not as a rival royal court. That distinction matters.

The opportunity is therefore much simpler. Let them come home. Let Harry see his father more often. Let his children know their grandfather. Let cousins become cousins rather than characters in competing media narratives. Let William and Harry, eventually and privately, discover whether there remains enough brotherhood beneath the accumulated grievances to have an actual conversation.

And perhaps Britain itself could try something similarly radical: move on. The country has spent an astonishing amount of energy deciding whether Harry and Meghan are victims, villains, opportunists, rebels, traitors, celebrities or misunderstood aristocrats. They are probably, like most married couples, a somewhat less exciting combination of all these things and several others.

Meghan remains deeply polarising. Harry remains deeply complicated. Neither deserves automatic absolution. But neither needs permanent exile from the national conversation—or, more importantly, from his own family.

There is also a delicious irony here. The monarchy's traditional strength has been continuity. Yet its current challenge is relevance. A younger generation wants authenticity, personality and some evidence that the institution understands ordinary human relationships. A family feud conducted through newspapers, documentaries, memoirs and lawyers is hardly an advertisement for emotional maturity.

Harry and Meghan returning to Britain offers the royals an unexpected opportunity: reconciliation without restoration. Nobody needs to pretend that the last six years did not happen. Nobody needs to rewrite history. Nobody needs to surrender.

They simply need to stop treating family life as a constitutional crisis. The palace has mastered pomp. Perhaps now it can master something much harder: forgiveness. And if Harry and Meghan can help remind the Windsors that, before they are a dynasty, they are a family, their return may prove rather more useful than anyone currently expects.


Screws & Chips #132 #Cartoon by Thanos Kalamidas

 

In a galaxy far, far away, intelligence demonstrated by screws and chips,
boldly gone where no robot has gone before!

For more Screws & Chips, HERE!
For more Ovi Cartoons, HERE!


India’s Treaty Obligations and the Stakes of Water Security By Habib Siddiqui

 

On Monday (August 31), the Permanent Court of Arbitration (PCA) in The Hague delivered a landmark judgment with far‑reaching implications for South Asia’s water security, ruling that India cannot unilaterally suspend the Indus Waters Treaty. In a unanimous decision, the five‑member tribunal rejected every argument New Delhi has advanced since April 2025 to justify holding the six‑decade‑old agreement “in abeyance,” declaring instead that the Treaty “remains fully in force” and that India “must observe its obligations” under its provisions. The Court reaffirmed that India is bound by the Treaty’s rules governing the design and operation of hydropower projects on rivers flowing into Pakistan, restoring clarity to a framework that India had sought to reinterpret through political declarations rather than legal process.

India has rejected the jurisdiction of the PCA – an intergovernmental court outside the United Nations system – whose mandate New Delhi has accepted in other cases.

The PCA’s latest ruling marks one of the most consequential developments in South Asia’s water diplomacy since the Treaty was signed in Karachi on 19 September 1960. Negotiated with World Bank mediation and endorsed by Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru and President Ayub Khan, the Indus Waters Treaty (IWT) has long been celebrated as a rare example of cooperation between India and Pakistan. It divided the six major rivers of the Indus Basin into two categories: India received exclusive control over the Eastern Rivers – the Beas, Ravi, and Sutlej – while Pakistan was granted exclusive control over the Western Rivers – the Indus, Jhelum, and Chenab. In effect, the Treaty partitioned the rivers rather than sharing their waters.

For more than six decades, this arrangement survived wars, crises, and political upheavals. Yet the Treaty has come under unprecedented strain in recent years, culminating in India’s 2025 declaration that it was placing the Treaty in “abeyance.” The PCA’s ruling directly rejects this claim, reaffirming that the Treaty remains fully in force and that neither party can unilaterally suspend, terminate, or redefine its obligations. This determination is profoundly significant for Pakistan, whose agricultural economy and national water security depend on uninterrupted flows from the Western Rivers.

As I noted during my tv interview with AsiaOneNews (Perspectiva), the PCA’s decision restores clarity to a Treaty that India had attempted to reinterpret through political rhetoric. New Delhi’s assertion that “blood and water cannot flow together” may resonate domestically, but it carries no legal weight. The Court has made it unambiguously clear that political declarations cannot override treaty commitments. Any modification or termination of the IWT requires mutual agreement through a new treaty, not unilateral action. This ruling protects Pakistan from upstream decisions that could jeopardize its access to the Indus, Jhelum, and Chenab – rivers that sustain more than 80 percent of Pakistan’s agriculture and millions of rural livelihoods.

Equally important is the Court’s affirmation that Pakistan acted within the Treaty’s dispute‑resolution framework by seeking arbitration. India has long insisted that disagreements over hydroelectric projects such as Ratle and Kishenganga must be addressed exclusively through the Neutral Expert (NE) mechanism. But the Treaty’s architecture is clear: technical questions fall under Annexure F and go to the NE, while legal questions involving interpretation or application of the Treaty fall under Annexure G and go to the Court of Arbitration. Pakistan’s objections to Ratle – concerning pondage, spillway height, intake elevation, and the potential for drawdown flushing – are legal questions about treaty compliance, not mere engineering differences. The PCA’s ruling validates Pakistan’s position and rejects India’s claim that arbitration was improperly invoked.

India’s refusal to participate in the proceedings does not invalidate the Court’s jurisdiction. Under international treaty law, once a tribunal is properly constituted, non‑participation by one party does not nullify its authority. The PCA’s ruling is legally binding under the IWT, and India remains obligated to comply with its determinations. This creates a significant strategic constraint for New Delhi. While India may continue to assert its political narrative, it now faces a clear judicial interpretation that contradicts its position. This divergence increases diplomatic pressure on India, especially in international forums where Pakistan has portrayed India as an upper riparian power attempting to rewrite a long‑standing agreement unilaterally.Pakistan has gone further, describing India’s declaration of “abeyance” as an existential threat to its water security.

In this context, India must also reflect on the broader implications of its stance. It cannot credibly reject the jurisdiction of the PCA only when a verdict goes against its interests, while embracing the same institution in cases where its rulings are favorable. Such selective acceptance undermines India’s own legal consistency and exposes a troubling hypocrisy: a major state cannot claim respect for international norms on one day and dismiss them the next. If India wishes to be seen as a responsible global actor, it must apply the same standards of treaty fidelity and institutional respect across all cases, not only those that serve its strategic preferences.

If New Delhi is serious about its global reputation – already under scrutiny due to widespread reports of human rights violations against minorities, particularly in the disputed Jammu & Kashmir – it cannot afford to be seen as an unreliable treaty partner. India’s relationships with nearly all its neighbors are strained, and across South Asia, it is increasingly viewed not as a cooperative regional leader but as a domineering power. This perception is not accidental; it is the cumulative result of decades of unilateral actions, coercive diplomacy, and disregard for the interests of smaller neighbors. A country aspiring to a permanent seat on the UN Security Council must demonstrate respect for international law, treaty obligations, and the sovereign rights of its neighbors. Honoring the IWT is therefore not merely a legal requirement – it is a commitment to regional peace, ecological sustainability, and moral responsibility.

Bangladesh’s experience with the Farakka Barrage remains one of the clearest illustrations of India’s troubling pattern of behavior. Constructed in 1972 inside West Bengal, the Barrage was designed to divert 1,800 cubic meters per second of water from the Ganges to flush sediment from Kolkata’s harbor. After nearly 90 fruitless meetings of the Indo‑Bangladesh Joint Rivers Commission (JRC), Bangladesh reluctantly agreed to a 41‑day trial operation in 1975, under the explicit assurance that India would not operate the feeder canal until a final water‑sharing agreement was reached. Bangladesh was promised 40,000 cusecs during the dry season. India did not honor these commitments. Instead, it diverted water unilaterally, worsening dry‑season scarcity and contributing to monsoon flooding. The Barrage has since been called a “Death Trap” by Bangladeshis, symbolizing India’s disregard for downstream impacts and its willingness to deceive a smaller neighbor. This history is well remembered across the region, and it casts a long shadow over India’s current posture on the Indus Waters Treaty.

The restrictions placed on the Ratle Hydroelectric Project illustrate the practical implications of the PCA ruling. The Court has ordered India not to concrete the dam wall or intake structure above specified levels – a critical safeguard for Pakistan. Once these components are built, they cannot be easily modified or undone. By freezing construction at disputed elevations, the PCA ensures that Pakistan’s concerns will be addressed before India proceeds further. Ratle is not just another run‑of‑the‑river project; its design features could allow India to manipulate flows during low‑flow periods, creating leverage over Pakistan’s irrigation cycles. The Court’s intervention prevents irreversible structural changes and reinforces Pakistan’s hydrological security.

This ruling also sets a precedent for future Indian projects on the Western Rivers. India must now incorporate treaty‑compliant engineering from the outset, knowing that deviations will be subject to international scrutiny. The PCA’s decision signals that India cannot bypass oversight simply by rejecting arbitration. The Treaty’s mechanisms remain operational, and Pakistan retains the right to invoke them when it believes India’s designs violate treaty limits.

The stakes for Pakistan could not be higher. The Indus Basin is the country’s lifeline. More than four‑fifths of Pakistan’s agriculture depends on predictable flows from the Western Rivers. Even minor disruptions can affect wheat, rice, sugarcane, and cotton production, threatening food security and rural incomes. Millions of households rely on stable water availability not only for farming but also for livestock, fisheries, and daily consumption. When water becomes unreliable, communities face declining incomes, food insecurity, and in some cases, forced migration. Water scarcity has historically been linked to social tensions, and in Pakistan’s context – where rural poverty is widespread – any upstream manipulation can exacerbate instability.

Climate change amplifies these vulnerabilities. Pakistan is already experiencing unpredictable glacial melt, erratic monsoons, and extreme weather events. The Indus Basin is one of the world’s most climate‑stressed river systems. In such a fragile environment, any upstream intervention – whether through design features that allow temporary storage or operational decisions that alter flows – compounds Pakistan’s risks. Sudden releases during wet periods or reductions during dry months can undermine Pakistan’s flood management systems and irrigation planning.

Pakistan’s path forward must be multi‑layered. Legal mechanisms have proven effective, but diplomacy remains essential. Structured dialogue – possibly with third‑party facilitation – can help reduce escalation and restore confidence in the Treaty’s processes. At the same time, Pakistan must urgently strengthen its domestic water‑storage and management capacity. Limited storage infrastructure, aging canals, groundwater depletion, and climate‑induced variability make Pakistan vulnerable even when flows are uninterrupted. Investing in new reservoirs, rehabilitating canals, regulating groundwater extraction, and promoting climate‑resilient agriculture are essential steps toward long‑term resilience.

Last Words:

As we reflect on the PCA’s ruling and the broader trajectory of water politics in South Asia, it is impossible to ignore a sobering truth: the wars of the future will not be fought merely over territory or ideology, but increasingly over water. Across the world, from the Nile Basin to the Mekong, from the Tigris–Euphrates system to the Indus, water scarcity is emerging as the defining geopolitical fault line of the twenty‑first century. Climate change, glacial retreat, erratic monsoons, and exploding populations are converging to make water the most contested resource on the planet. In such an era, the stability of regions – and the survival of millions – will depend on whether nations respect international laws, honor signed treaties, and abide by the verdicts of arbitration bodies entrusted with resolving disputes.

If powerful states begin to treat treaties as optional and arbitration rulings as irrelevant, the world will slide toward a dangerous precedent in which might makes right and upstream nations can unilaterally choke off the lifelines of downstream communities. This is not merely a legal concern; it is a moral one. When a country controls the headwaters of a river system, it holds in its hands the fate of farmers, families, and entire ecosystems downstream. To disregard that responsibility is to play with the lives and livelihoods of millions who depend on predictable flows for their crops, their food, and their very survival.

For this reason, the international community must move toward stronger global norms that guarantee the rights of lower riparian states. Water, unlike oil or minerals, is not a commodity that can be stockpiled or substituted. It is the essence of life. Any international river system must be governed by principles that ensure equitable and sustainable use, not unilateral diversion or manipulation. Dams and barrages that fundamentally alter ecosystems, destroy fisheries, displace communities, or deprive downstream nations of their rightful share should not be treated as symbols of national pride, but as potential instruments of human suffering. No people should ever have to live under the shadow of a dam or barrage that becomes a curse – stealing their water, destroying their crops, and eroding their future.

The PCA’s ruling is more than a legal verdict – it is a reminder that the future of peace in South Asia depends on the choices made now. Water can be a source of conflict, or it can be a bridge of cooperation. The world will be safer if nations choose the latter.


Dr Habib Siddiqui is the author of several books, including ‘Modi-fied’ India: the Transformation of a Nation (Peter Lang, 2026), and Bangladesh: a Polarized and Divided Nation? (Amazon.com, 2021)


Snake Skin #Poem & #Painting by Nikos Laios

 

Under a midday sky
The palm trees sway
Slowly and sweat drips
Onto the yellow sand
And the day is hot
And the ocean
Is dead calm.

Lying
On a towel
I stare up
At the blazing sun,
And for a moment
I lose myself in the sun
To the rhythmical
Sounds of crashing
Waves on the beach,
And my soul suddenly
Feels jarred and dislocated
Floating free.

Then I see the illusion
Of life peeling off like a dry
Cracked snake skin
Falling on a desert floor
Revealing a black glistening
Nothingness filled with stars
And a black hole devouring time,
Then I wake suddenly
With the taste of fragility
Aware that everything
We have built
Rests on a thin
Layer of
Illusion.

 *******************************
With a digital painting from Nikos Laios

 *******************************
Check Nikos Laios' eBOOK, HERE!

 

The glove of power by Jennifer Stephenson

 

 

It is disturbing to think that an immigration officer being handed a glove that can deliver an electric shock. Not because the device is necessarily the most lethal instrument in the government’s arsenal. It is not. The problem is what it says about the direction of American law enforcement: when an agency entrusted with enforcing immigration law begins to look increasingly like a domestic security force, the addition of an electrified glove is less a technological innovation than a political symbol.

ICE has now awarded a $16.7 million contract for 6,000 pairs of electric-shock gloves, despite objections from lawmakers and civil-liberties advocates. The government describes them as “conductive distraction and de-escalation” devices. That is the sort of phrase bureaucracies invent when they want something potentially ugly to sound reassuring.

One can imagine the procurement meeting. Someone asks whether agents really need gloves capable of shocking people. Someone else explains that the gloves are not weapons but safety equipment. Another official probably nods gravely and writes down “de-escalation.”

And there we have the problem. A democratic government should be extremely cautious about giving its agents new ways to inflict pain. It should be even more cautious when those agents operate in communities, enter homes, detain people and exercise enormous power over individuals who may have little practical ability to resist.

ICE insists that the gloves are intended for difficult confrontations and officer safety. Fine. Police officers sometimes face genuinely dangerous situations. They deserve equipment that protects them. But the legitimate question is not whether an officer should have means of protecting himself. It is whether an institution already under intense scrutiny for its use of force should be expanding the menu of coercive tools before establishing overwhelming public confidence that those tools will be used properly.

That distinction matters. The danger of authoritarianism rarely arrives wearing a sign saying WELCOME TO THE DICTATORSHIP. It arrives through procurement contracts, administrative rules, expanded powers and seemingly technical improvements. Each individual change can be defended as reasonable. Together they can produce something profoundly unreasonable.

The electric glove is therefore important not because it turns an ICE officer into a storm trooper. It does not. Nor does every ICE officer become a thug simply by putting one on. That would be lazy caricature.

The concern is institutional. When an agency increasingly resembles a militarized domestic force, equipment begins to influence mentality. The symbolism of the uniform, tactical gear and weaponry matters. So does the expectation that confrontation, rather than restraint, is the normal answer to resistance. Critics have already described ICE as acquiring the characteristics of a paramilitary organization, with concerns about accountability and oversight.

America should understand the historical lesson here. Praetorian forces are not created overnight. They emerge when governments gradually become comfortable giving particular agents extraordinary authority and then become less comfortable questioning how that authority is exercised.

The republic does not become authoritarian because someone buys a glove. It becomes vulnerable when nobody thinks the glove is worth arguing about. There is a profound difference between law enforcement and enforcement without meaningful restraint. The first serves the law. The second eventually serves whoever controls the machinery of enforcement.

That is why the image of the electrified glove should make Americans uncomfortable. A democracy should want its police to be feared by criminals because they enforce the law, not feared by ordinary people because the state has given them increasingly ingenious ways to make citizens obey. The glove may be marketed as nonlethal. The warning it carries is anything but.

Puppi & Caesar #51 #cartoon by Thanos Kalamidas

 

The EU’s Iceland setback by Thanos Kalamidas

The European Union has just been handed another small country-sized warning and Brussels would be wise not to dismiss it as another eccentric Icelandic obsession with fish.

By 52.8 percent to 47.2 percent, Icelanders rejected restarting negotiations on EU membership. It was a narrow vote, but politically it lands with the force of a much larger rebuke. The referendum was not technically about joining the EU. It was about reopening the door. Icelanders have now decided that, for the moment, they would rather keep the door firmly shut.

And if Brussels is looking for someone to blame, it should look beyond Reykjavik. Ursula von der Leyen is not personally responsible for Iceland’s fishing quotas, sovereignty concerns or the peculiar emotional attachment of an island nation to its waters. But after years at the summit of the European Commission, she has become the human face of a European project that increasingly struggles to explain what it is for and why citizens should trust it.

That is the larger problem. The EU likes to describe itself as a geopolitical heavyweight. Yet its political language often sounds like an administrative memo. It speaks fluently about regulations, competitiveness, strategic autonomy and resilience, while ordinary Europeans worry about prices, housing, jobs, migration, security and whether their children will enjoy a better life than they did.

Icelanders were offered the argument that a more unstable world made European integration more attractive. There was logic to it. Russia, Arctic tensions and Donald Trump’s extraordinary pressure over Greenland have transformed the strategic environment around the North Atlantic. Iceland, with no standing army, has every reason to think seriously about security.

But geopolitical anxiety is not automatically a sales pitch for Brussels. The EU assumed that instability would make Icelanders run toward Europe. Instead, many ran toward sovereignty. That should make von der Leyen and her colleagues uncomfortable.

The European Commission has spent years presenting itself as the guardian of European values, social standards and international influence. Yet Europe’s economic performance has too often been anaemic, its social agenda fragmented, and its foreign policy compromised by internal divisions. The EU wants to be a geopolitical actor but frequently behaves like 27 governments sharing a filing cabinet.

Von der Leyen’s defenders will argue that these problems cannot possibly be reduced to one Commission president. Of course they cannot. Europe’s structural weaknesses predate her. National governments remain responsible for much of what happens inside the bloc.

But leadership matters. And when a political project repeatedly loses its emotional connection with citizens, its leadership cannot simply blame misinformation, nationalism or provincialism.

Iceland is particularly revealing because it is hardly an anti-European backwater. It already enjoys extensive access to the European single market and participates in Schengen. Its voters were not choosing between Europe and isolation. They were choosing how much European integration they wanted.

And they chose less. That is the uncomfortable message. The EU cannot demand that countries surrender pieces of sovereignty while offering only spreadsheets in return. It cannot tell Europeans that deeper integration is inevitable and then wonder why voters become suspicious. Nor can Brussels assume that every crisis automatically strengthens the European idea.

Sometimes crises expose its weaknesses. Iceland’s rejection should therefore be treated not as a defeat for Iceland, but as a referendum on Brussels’ ability to persuade. The result is narrow. The warning is not.

Europe does not merely need better policies. It needs a convincing reason for people to believe in the European project again. And that, more than Iceland’s fish, is the catch Brussels has failed to land.


To be lost #Poem by Abigail George

 

I help my father to the bathroom
His brown hands are soft & warm, two suns,
two volcano lovers, two brown eggs, two birds. He sits,
perched falcon-like, on the toilet seat. There are many muscles
in the human body, he says. You can see the creation
of God with every movement of each muscle, he continues.

I make conversation to preserve his dignity
but I am also genuinely interested in what he has to say.
He is like sea-glass in my hands, fragile, breakable
One, Two, Three, stand, I say, hold onto the door
I pull up the adult diapers, his shirt is damp & stained with food
His body spills into my patient hands. I am gentle,
concern in my eyes, the brown eyes that he gave me.
I help him put his pajama pants on and we go and eat Sunday lunch
I arrange an apron over his chest, tuck it in his shirt. I hand him a plate,
Oros in a mug. Before I eat, I go to his bedroom. The room where my parents
sleep in separate beds. I place linens where the sheets are wet like dew, I make
up his bed, and fold up the blankets. Do you want to watch Joel Osteen, I ask?
I stand in the doorway, watching the ocean that is my family.
No, he says. I am fine here.

The Ranucci test by Maddalena Conti

Italy has seen this movie before. The scenery changes, the politicians change, the slogans change, but the plot remains remarkably familiar: an investigative journalist becomes inconvenient, the public broadcaster discovers an administrative reason for removing him, and everyone is invited to believe that politics has absolutely nothing to do with it.

RAI’s decision to remove Sigfrido Ranucci after nine years presenting Report may be perfectly defensible on paper. Broadcasters are entitled to change presenters. Programmes need renewal. Young journalists deserve opportunities. RAI says it wants to strengthen investigative journalism and bring in new talent. Nothing sinister there.

Except that politics rarely operates on paper alone. Ranucci has spent years doing precisely what investigative journalists are supposed to do: asking uncomfortable questions, following money, examining power and irritating people who would much rather not be examined. His programme has repeatedly scrutinised the political establishment, including Giorgia Meloni's government and figures around it. Now, suddenly, the man at the centre of one of Italy's most influential investigative programmes is being moved aside amid a political storm that has already become impossible to separate from the decision.

That does not prove Meloni personally ordered his removal. It would be irresponsible to claim it does. But democracy is not merely about proving who made a telephone call. It is also about recognising patterns.

The timing is extraordinary. Last year, a bomb exploded outside Ranucci's home. Meloni and politicians across the political spectrum rightly condemned the attack. Then came the extraordinary revelation that businessman Valter Lavitola allegedly organised the bombing, with investigators examining whether the bizarre scheme was intended to increase Ranucci's security or boost his public profile. There is no evidence that Ranucci knew about the plot.

Yet somehow the journalist became the subject of political suspicion rather than simply the victim of an extraordinary criminal affair. And now he is gone from Report.

That is where the smell of revenge begins to linger. Not necessarily revenge in the crude sense of Meloni sitting in Palazzo Chigi with a red pen marked “Ranucci”. Politics is usually subtler than that. Institutional pressure does not require a dictator's telephone call. Sometimes all that is needed is a political climate in which everybody understands which journalists are considered troublesome and which are considered useful.

The danger is not that Meloni has suddenly abolished press freedom. The danger is something more sophisticated: the gradual normalisation of a public broadcaster becoming uncomfortable with journalism that makes the government uncomfortable.

And that matters because RAI is not just another television company. It is a public institution. Its independence is therefore measured not by how kindly it treats friendly journalism, but by how much room it gives hostile journalism.

The real test for Meloni is consequently not whether she personally liked Ranucci. Leaders are not required to like journalists. Quite the opposite. A healthy democracy needs journalists capable of making prime ministers furious.

The question is whether Italy's government can tolerate a broadcaster whose journalists investigate it without fear. If Ranucci was removed solely because RAI genuinely wanted a new generation to lead Report, the decision will eventually stand on its merits.

But if the message to Italian journalism is that persistent scrutiny carries a professional price, then Ranucci's removal will become something much larger than a television reshuffle. It will become a warning. And journalists understand warnings better than most people.


CANTO 35 #Thoughts by David Sparenberg

I dreamed we were a swarm of fallen damselflies, floating face down in the water of a gigantic toilet bowl, urinating. The yellow streams of...