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What Makes the Ukraine Russia War Unique

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Paris (Imran Y. CHOUDHRY) :- Former Press Secretary to the President, Former Press Minister to the Embassy of Pakistan to France, Former MD, SRBC Mr. Qamar Bashir analysis : Ukraine entered this war as the presumed underdog—smaller economy, fewer troops, and seemingly overmatched by a nuclear-armed Russia. Early expectations of a quick collapse proved wrong because two big forces collided: Ukraine’s own adaptation and resolve, and Europe’s decision that defending Kyiv was, in practice, defending Europe. That political will translated into money, weapons, training, and intelligence support on a scale and with a speed that Moscow did not anticipate. The result is a grinding third year in which Russia has advanced in places but still not broken Ukraine’s state, army, or economy—and in which the very character of warfare has been rewritten by drones, long-range precision strikes, and an unprecedented air-defence duel.
On the battlefield, the single biggest operational surprise has been the drone revolution. Ukraine industrialized “good-enough” unmanned systems—cheap FPV strike drones, long-range one-way attack drones, and uncrewed surface vessels (USVs)—to impose constant pressure on Russian logistics, airbases, and the Black Sea Fleet. Those naval drones forced Russia to pull major combatants away from Sevastopol toward safer ports, degrading its ability to blockade Ukraine’s coast and contributing to a remarkable Ukrainian asymmetric sea campaign.
Long-range strike has been the other pillar. The United States transferred ATACMS with 300-kilometre range in 2024, giving Ukraine new options against high-value targets deep behind the lines. That capability, combined with European Storm Shadow/SCALP and Ukrainian-built long-range drones, underpins the campaign hitting Russian oil infrastructure. Through August 2025, independent tallies indicate those drone strikes have taken roughly 10–17% of Russia’s refining capacity offline at various points—an effect visible at the pump and in emergency policy responses inside Russia.
If this is the war of drones and strikes, it is also the war of air defence. Ukraine’s layered network—Patriot, NASAMS, IRIS-T and others—has rewritten assumptions about what modern integrated air defences can do under fire, including the first confirmed shoot-downs of Russia’s Kinzhal air-launched ballistic missile. At the same time, Russia adapted with massed Shahed-type drones and heavy use of ballistic and cruise missiles to saturate interceptors, paired with powerful electronic warfare to degrade guidance and communications. The duel continues to evolve: intercept successes are real, but saturation and glide-bomb tactics have bitten hard.
The Black Sea is where Ukraine’s innovation most visibly paid off. By turning USVs into precision kamikaze boats and pairing them with intelligence from partners, Kyiv chipped away at ships, piers, and command nodes, compelling the Black Sea Fleet to redistribute to less exposed ports and reducing its freedom to threaten Ukraine’s coastline and grain lanes. That maritime asymmetry—inflicted by a country with almost no surviving navy—has strategic consequences disproportionate to cost.
Why, then, has Russia—despite numbers, artillery, and nuclear weapons—failed to secure a decisive victory? First, it misjudged the political spine of its opponents. Europe decided early that Ukraine’s survival was a core European interest, and it has put its money where its mouth is. The EU’s multi-year Ukraine Facility, worth up to €50 billion through 2027, created predictable budget support, while total EU-level and member-state assistance across financial, military, and humanitarian lines has reached roughly €150 billion. That predictable lifeline kept the Ukrainian state functioning and the army supplied even when battlefield fortunes wavered.
Second, Moscow underestimated what U.S. and European intelligence, surveillance and reconnaissance (ISR)—including commercial space—would do to Russian command posts, ammo dumps, and air defences. Western ISR didn’t fight the war, but it made Ukrainian strikes smarter and faster and helped compensate for smaller forces.
Third, Russia’s logistics and corruption problems, while not new, were brutally exposed by the scale and tempo of this campaign. Under strain, the Russian system struggled to keep front-line formations fully equipped with trained infantry, modern optics, and precision munitions, and to sustain coherent combined-arms manoeuvre after the war’s first months.
Fourth, Ukrainian denial of the air domain—without actually achieving air superiority—has been unexpectedly effective. Air defences blunted Russia’s ability to use its fast jets in depth, and since mid-2024 the arrival of Western-donated F-16s has begun to stiffen Ukraine’s air posture and air-defence suppression capability, albeit in limited numbers so far.
Fifth, Russia’s war economy, though resilient, is feeling real pressure. The refinery-strike campaign has fed domestic fuel shortages and rationing in some regions, forcing ad-hoc controls and export bans. Lower oil and gas revenues this summer further squeezed the budget alongside very high nominal interest rates. Sustained pressure here does not guarantee battlefield collapse, but it narrows Moscow’s menu of options.
None of this means Ukraine has had it easy. Russia has adapted, too. It mass-produced glide-bomb kits (UMPK) to lob heavy bombs from beyond Ukraine’s front-line air-defence umbrellas, pulverizing defensive positions and urban strongpoints. It scaled up Shahed-type drones and improved missile salvos to exhaust intercept stocks, and it is iterating on EW to blunt Ukrainian drones. The result is a seesaw of adaptation in which each side’s marginal gains are contested within months.
Leadership and diplomacy sit over all of this. President Trump has sought to test diplomatic openings with Moscow, but as of mid-August a high-profile meeting produced no deal, and fighting has intensified since. Washington continues to weigh sanctions, export-control tightening, and security guarantees alongside European leaders; in parallel, Europeans insist they must be at the table for any settlement they will be asked to underwrite.
This war, unfolding in the heart of Europe, should never have happened in an age where humanity prides itself on knowledge, civility, and progress. Europe, with its centuries of cultural achievement, scientific discovery, and lessons from devastating past wars, was expected to have built a framework strong enough to prevent such catastrophe. Yet the conflict continues into its third year, threatening not just Ukraine and Russia but also global security, economic stability, and human dignity.
Finally, the lesson of this war must transform global thinking: that military might alone cannot deliver lasting security. Sustainable peace depends on economic interdependence, technological cooperation, and mutual respect for sovereignty. The same technologies—AI, robotics, cyber systems, and satellites—that now make this war deadlier could, if directed differently, make peace stronger and more enduring.
Humanity, after centuries of struggle, innovation, and shared civilization, owes itself a better path forward. Europe, the cradle of modern democracy and human rights, must lead—not with weapons alone but with wisdom, reconciliation, and courage. If the war’s architects fail to act, history will remember this as a failure not of power but of imagination. Yet if they succeed, Ukraine’s resilience, Europe’s unity, and the world’s collective resolve could together turn a battlefield tragedy into a foundation for a safer, more cooperative, and more humane international order.

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‘Covered in dust and too shocked to speak’: Afghan villagers reel at scale of quake’s devastation

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Just before midnight on Sunday, Matiullah Shahab woke up to find his house in Afghanistan’s remote Kunar province shaking.

An earthquake measuring 6.0 magnitude had struck eastern Afghanistan, leaving at least 800 people dead, according to the UN.

Even though the epicentre of the quake was 16km (10 miles) away, the whole of Shahab’s village of Asadabad trembled. The 23 family members who live with him ran out of their bedrooms as they feared the walls would fall in on them, and stayed awake all night in their garden. “We were all afraid,” he says.

The areas worst hit by the quake were Nangarhar and Kunar provinces, but it was felt as far away as Kabul and in neighbouring Pakistan’s capital, Islamabad.

When day broke, Matiullah – who is a freelance journalist and human rights activist – drove from his home to try to reach the remote mountainous area at the epicentre of the quake.

He says he had to get out of his car and walk for two hours before he arrived at the worst-hit villages as there were rocks on the road.

He arrived at the village of Andarlachak to find several young children being treated by medics in the street. A pair of toddlers lay together on a stretcher with bruises on their chests and faces.

Other children were wrapped in white sheets. Some 79 people died in that village alone.

Matiullah helped the local people dig graves for the many people who had died.

“The villages I visited were destroyed,” he says. One man told Shabab that his wife and four children had died. But most were too shocked to speak.

“Peoples’ faces were covered in dust and there was a silence,” he said. “They were like robots – no one could talk about it.”

Due to the blocked roads, Taliban government rescue operations have relied on helicopters to reach the mountain villages. But the remote, mountainous terrain means some places remain inaccessible, while there are reports of people dying under the rubble while awaiting rescue.

Matiullah says volunteers were trying to rescue trapped people, and saw two women being pulled from a destroyed house.

“They got them out, injured, and they are now in the hospital,” he says. He was not allowed to take photos of the rescue operation because the Taliban does not allow photos of women.

Many residents are now sleeping out in the open and need tents, Matiullah adds.

Getty Images  Injured Afghan children receive treatment at a hospital after an earthquake in Jalalabad, in eastern Afghanistan, on September 1, 2025. A
Injured children are receiving treatment at a hospital in Jalalabad

Another resident in Kunar’s Sokai district, Ezzatullah Safi, says part of his house collapsed in the earthquake.

“I woke to the screams of children, women, and animals,” he tells the BBC.

“The earthquake was intense, and the night felt like a small apocalypse. Strong winds followed the tremors, with light rain falling. My children clung to me, crying in fear. Dust filled the air.

“The mobile network went down immediately. We couldn’t contact relatives. With the house damaged and no electricity, we relied on the light from our phones.”

He says government helicopters arrived in the morning and airlifted the injured from the mountains down to the main Kunar highway, where they were transferred by vehicles to clinics.

“There’s a heavy atmosphere of grief here,” Ezzatullah notes.

“[The] electricity is out, markets remained closed all day. Some areas are still unreachable – remote villages five to six hours away in the mountains.”

Additional reporting by Iftikhar Khan

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Australia’s Bold Move Against Israel and Iran

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Paris (Imran Y. CHOUDHRY) :- Former Press Secretary to the President, Former Press Minister to the Embassy of Pakistan to France, Former MD, SRBC Mr. Qamar Bashir analysis : In a cascade of landmark decisions that have recalibrated Australia’s global identity, Prime Minister Anthony Albanese has severed diplomatic ties with Iran and launched a bold critique of Israel’s Gaza campaign, embedding a rare blend of moral clarity and strategic audacity into Canberra’s foreign policy. What began as a domestic security response quickly evolved into a profound global statement. The chain of events was triggered by a chilling revelation: Australia’s intelligence agency, ASIO, linked Iran’s Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) to two antisemitic arson attacks on Australian soil—one at a kosher restaurant in Sydney in October 2024 and another at a Melbourne synagogue in December. Addressing a tense press conference, Albanese declared these acts “aggression orchestrated by a foreign nation on Australian soil.” His government responded decisively, expelling Iran’s ambassador and three senior diplomats, suspending embassy operations in Tehran, and designating the IRGC as a terrorist organization—the first such expulsion since World War II.
Critics were quick to suggest that Canberra’s drastic move was an act of appeasement designed to placate Washington and its closest Middle Eastern ally, Israel. But just two weeks earlier, Albanese had shaken long-standing alliances by delivering a blistering condemnation of Israel, calling it “the aggressor” and accusing it of killing innocent children, violating international law, and trampling fundamental human rights. The statement reverberated across world capitals, triggering a furious response from both Washington and Jerusalem.
Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu lashed out, declaring that “history will remember Albanese for what he is: a weak politician who betrayed Israel and abandoned Australia’s Jews.” Yet Australia stood firm. Home Affairs Minister Tony Burke delivered a sharp rebuttal: “Strength is not measured by how many people you can blow up or how many children you can leave hungry.” In that moment, Canberra signaled that moral convictions, rather than alliances of convenience, would define its foreign policy direction.
This stance became clearer when Albanese took the unprecedented step of formally recognizing Palestine at the United Nations on August 11. While his announcement demanded demilitarization and recognition of Israel’s right to exist, he framed the decision as “humanity’s best hope to break the cycle of violence in the Middle East and bring an end to the suffering and starvation in Gaza.” He called for unrestricted humanitarian access to Gaza, aligning Australia with the mounting chorus of global voices demanding action to save lives. Unlike many leaders who indulge in populist soundbites, Albanese matched his rhetoric with concrete measures, charting a path that blended pragmatism with principle.
Iran, initially welcoming Australia’s condemnation of Israel, was stunned when Canberra turned its punitive measures toward Tehran. Iranian officials denounced the expulsions as politically motivated, promised reciprocal action, and accused Albanese of aligning with Western powers. Yet Australia found unexpected domestic unity, as both Jewish and Iranian-Australian communities expressed support for the government’s actions, arguing that attacks targeting religious communities could not go unanswered. By placing sovereignty, accountability, and human rights at the center of its response, Australia carved a unique and independent path between competing global narratives.
The geopolitical drama intensified with a development that dwarfed all others in humanitarian gravity: on August 22, 2025, the Integrated Food Security Phase Classification (IPC)—the United Nations’ leading food crises authority—formally declared a famine in Gaza City, the first such declaration in the Middle East’s modern history. Over 500,000 people, roughly one-quarter of Gaza’s population, face catastrophic hunger, with projections warning that the famine will spread to Deir al-Balah and Khan Younis within weeks if aid does not reach civilians immediately. António Guterres, the UN Secretary-General, called the famine “a human-made disaster” and “a failure of humanity.” Aid agencies described Gaza as “on the brink of mass starvation,” with children dying daily from malnutrition and hospitals collapsing under the weight of preventable disease.
For Israel, this declaration has intensified global scrutiny and deepened accusations of war crimes, particularly claims that starvation is being weaponized in Gaza. Israel has categorically rejected the UN’s findings, calling them “lies” and accusing the IPC of political bias. For the United States, the famine raises uncomfortable questions about its role in sustaining Israel’s military campaign while simultaneously portraying itself as a defender of human rights. Across Europe, over 200 diplomats have signed letters urging immediate ceasefires and humanitarian corridors, amplifying pressure on Washington to reconsider its unconditional support. For Gazans, however, the political debates offer no relief. With food, medicine, and clean water scarce, despair has become the only constant, and the suffering is worsening by the hour.
Amid this spiraling humanitarian crisis, a controversial narrative has resurfaced in political discourse: allegations that Donald Trump, two years ago, converted to Judaism—claims widely circulated by critics who argue that his unwavering support for Israel’s Gaza campaign stems from personal alignment rather than policy calculation. While no credible evidence or mainstream reporting substantiates this claim, its viral spread underscores the growing perception that Washington’s complicity in Gaza’s suffering is ideological as much as strategic. The narrative, factually unverified though it remains, highlights an emerging reality of modern geopolitics: in an era of mass disinformation, perception can shape global reaction as powerfully as verified truth.
Australia’s choices, by contrast, illustrate how a medium power can leverage moral authority without abandoning strategic balance. By openly condemning Israel’s actions, recognizing Palestinian statehood, and expelling Iran’s diplomats for acts of aggression, Albanese charted a course distinct from traditional Western bloc politics. He showed that alliances need not demand silence in the face of injustice. This duality—standing firm against Iranian-sponsored violence while also challenging Israel’s siege of Gaza—signals that Canberra seeks to define its identity through principles, not dependence.
The broader implications, however, extend beyond Australia’s example. Albanese’s leadership exposes a void where other powers have hesitated. Muslim-majority countries, sitting on vast economic leverage through oil, trade, and investments, have yet to mount coordinated efforts to pressure Israel to end its military campaign and allow unfettered aid into Gaza. European nations, fragmented by domestic politics and strategic dependencies, remain largely confined to symbolic statements rather than actionable policies. BRICS nations, meanwhile, have voiced rhetorical support for Palestinian rights but lack collective political will to impose tangible consequences.
Here lies the deepest challenge for the global order: unless other great powers—the likes of China, Russia, the European Union, and emerging economic blocs—act decisively, collectively, and concretely to stop the ongoing massacre in Gaza and the West Bank, they must abandon any illusion of commanding respect on the world stage. The International Court of Justice has issued rulings; UN resolutions have condemned the bloodshed; yet hesitation continues to prevail. Without coordinated diplomatic, economic, and—if required—non-kinetic or kinetic pressure, the U.S. will remain what it is today: the sole superpower dictating the terms of morality and geopolitics.
Anthony Albanese’s actions are far from symbolic gestures; they represent a rare assertion of conscience in an era of complicity. He demonstrated that ethical governance can coexist with strategic imperatives and that democracies need not trade their values for alliances. At a time when famine stalks Gaza’s civilians, starvation grips hundreds of thousands, and the international system dithers, Australia has shown that leadership can mean more than words. It can mean acting when others remain paralyzed.
This moment belongs not just to Australia but to the world. If other nations find the courage to match conviction with decisive action—whether through sanctions, trade pressures, or coordinated humanitarian interventions—the tide of Gaza’s suffering can still be reversed. But if they remain silent and fractured, allowing famine to devour children and displacement to erase communities, history will record their hesitation as complicity. In the vacuum left by inaction, the United States will continue to dominate not because of moral superiority but because it alone dares to act. Albanese has reminded the world that peace without justice is hollow, security without compassion is unsustainable, and leadership without conscience is meaningless.

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Would you work for no pay? The question behind the Air Canada strike

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When Air Canada flight attendants walked off the job earlier a week ago, they had one rallying cry: “Unpaid work won’t fly.”

It was a reference to the long-standing practice in North America’s aviation industry of not paying cabin crew for work they do when they are on the ground, before the plane is in motion.

In contrast, some European airlines, industry experts told the BBC, pay cabin crew monthly wages rather than by the hour.

The pay structure surprised Canadian flyers, many of whom supported the striking workers, one poll commissioned by the union suggested.

The brief strike wreaked havoc during the peak summer travel season, but flights resumed after both sides agreed to a tentative deal on Tuesday.

The proposed agreement reached by the Canadian Union for Public Employees (Cupe) and Air Canada has not been fully released, but those familiar with its contents report that it includes a pay bump over several years and, most notably, partial pay for boarding duties and cabin secure checks before take off – a first.

Experts say the wins secured by Air Canada’s cabin crew could help solidify a new standard for aviation workers on the continent.

The union called it “historic” earlier this week, declaring unpaid work “over”.

But media has reported that many flight attendants, who must still vote to approve the deal, remain dissatisfied. It is unclear if the deal has enough support to pass, Reuters reported.

1:10Watch: ‘We do support what the flight attendants are trying to achieve’ – Air Canada passengers react to strike

Air Canada flight attendants were not alone in not being paid for what the industry calls “ground work”.

Cabin crew for other Canadian airlines Air Transat and WestJet do not have ground pay as part of their compensation structure. Neither do flight attendants at US-based United Airlines, though contract negotiations are currently ongoing.

John Gradek, a business professor and aviation management expert at McGill University in Montreal, said that introducing ground pay for Air Canada workers could trigger a “tsunami” that would soon sweep all major airlines in North America.

For decades, the practice was justified on the basis that it is easier to track hours of when a plane leaves the gate and lands, he said. It is more difficult to include boarding time, which can vary depending on delays and the number of passengers.

To mitigate this, airlines bumped up the hourly pay of cabin crew, though many argue the total wages are still low, especially for those living in major, often expensive, North American cities.

Air Canada has said that half of its “mainline flight attendants” earned more than C$54,000 ($39,000; £29,000) last year, with some of the more senior staff earning more than C$70,000.

The figures were slightly different for Air Canada Rouge, the carrier’s discount wing.

One long-time Air Canada flight attendant, Leslie Woolaver, told local news outlet the Halifax Examiner that she estimated she did about 40 hours of unpaid work a month.

That figure is similar to what was reported by nearly 10,000 flight attendants in a survey done by Cupe in late December 2022. At the time, Wesley Lesosky, president of the union’s airline division, called unpaid work “a dirty secret in this industry”.

Junior flight attendants are most affected, Ms Woolaver told the Halifax Examiner, as they tend to work shorter flights.

Getty Images A close-up photo showing a Delta Airlines plane landing on a tarmac in Arlington, Virginia.
US-based Delta Airlines became the first in 2022 to pay flight attendants for ground work in North America.

Changes in the air, and on the ground

Attitudes towards ground pay began to shift after the Covid-19 pandemic, which brought in new rules around masking on planes and greatly altered how cabin crew prepare a plane for take off.

Steven Tufts, a professor and labour expert at York University in Toronto, said this “increased complexity of boarding passengers put a lot of pressure on flight attendants” and forced them to work even more unpaid hours.

“Eventually they said: ‘No. This has to change,'” he said.

Delta Airlines led the charge in 2022 when it became the first in North America to offer cabin crew pay for work they did on the ground. American Airlines and Alaska Airlines quickly followed.

After the tentative agreement with Air Canada was reached, the airline’s chief operations officer Mark Nasr told the CBC that the carrier cabin crew will now receive “industry leading compensation”.

“Ground pay is settled. Our flight attendants will be paid for time on the ground.”

But the future of the deal remains unclear.

On Friday, Reuters spoke with several airline workers who remained unhappy with the proposed deal, specifically citing ground pay and how it impacts wages for entry-level workers.

Mr Lesosky told the outlet that further strikes would be illegal, and that wage disputes would likely be resolved at arbitration while the other parts of the agreement moved forward.

Regardless of the outcome, some form of ground pay is likely to stay.

With Air Canada – the largest airline in Canada – now hopping on board, industry watchers say a new precedent is being set for the global airline industry.

Both Air Transat and WestJet have contract negotiations coming up. Prof Gradek said he believes ground pay will be an easy win for them, as they will want to keep their wages competitive.

More broadly, the gains secured as a result of the Air Canada strike have also been hailed as a turning point for labour rights in Canada because of the union’s refusal to comply with a back-to-work order.

The federal government invoked Section 107 of the Canada Labour Code, which has been used in recent years to end job actions and force binding arbitration.

This time, public sympathy was largely on the side of the striking workers due to the focus on unpaid labour, Prof Gradek said.

“This was a master class of negotiation by the union,” he said.

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