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.

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.

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.

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 : The meeting between President Donald Trump and Russian President Vladimir Putin in Anchorage, Alaska, set the stage for a whirlwind of diplomatic maneuvering among all stakeholders in the Russia–Ukraine conflict. More than thirty European nations that have supported Ukraine against Russian aggression were forced to reassess their strategies in light of the unexpected opening that emerged from the summit. The encounter did not yield a ceasefire or an immediate breakthrough, but it opened a fragile doorway toward a potential peace settlement, one that has already triggered frantic consultations across capitals and drawn in leaders who fear being sidelined in the process.
At the heart of the Alaska talks was a dramatic pivot by Trump, who abandoned the initial idea of negotiating a temporary ceasefire and instead pressed for a comprehensive peace deal. Putin’s proposal, which Trump appeared willing to explore, was stark and uncompromising. It required Ukraine to cede Donetsk and Luhansk in their entirety, recognizing them as Russian-controlled regions, while Russia would agree to withdraw from small pockets it still occupies in the northern oblasts of Kharkiv and Sumy. The deal also demanded that Ukraine renounce NATO membership permanently, accept international recognition of Russian sovereignty over Crimea, and agree to lift certain sanctions. Further conditions included granting official status to the Russian language and the Russian Orthodox Church within Ukraine. Perhaps most controversially, Putin made it clear that a ceasefire would not precede the agreement but would only take effect after its implementation, making Ukrainian concessions a precondition to ending the war.
This land-for-peace proposal was quickly labeled unacceptable in Kyiv, yet Trump described the discussions as “productive” and even suggested the two sides were “close to a deal.” He left the impression that if Zelensky accepted the plan, Trump would claim credit for ending the war, while still insisting Ukraine must make the final choice. Trump’s envoy later revealed that Putin had agreed in principle to allow the United States and Europe to extend NATO-style security protections to Ukraine. This appeared to be a potential breakthrough, though it was far from clear whether such guarantees would amount to anything as robust as Article 5 of the NATO treaty, which treats an attack on one member as an attack on all. The ambiguity was deliberate: Trump sought to preserve flexibility, while Putin insisted that border changes be recognized internationally, a condition flatly rejected by Kyiv and its allies.
The immediate reaction from Europe was alarm. France’s Emmanuel Macron, Germany’s Friedrich Merz, the European Commission’s Ursula von der Leyen, and the UK’s Keir Starmer, among others, pressed urgently to be included in the next round of talks. They feared that a one-on-one Trump–Zelensky meeting in Washington could result in Zelensky being humiliated or pressured into territorial concessions under duress. The White House initially resisted but eventually relented under mounting pressure, confirming that the meeting in Washington would now be a multilateral summit involving European leaders alongside Trump and Zelensky. Europe’s stance was clear: there could be no peace imposed without Ukraine’s consent, no recognition of territorial conquest, and no settlement without a verifiable ceasefire as a starting point.
For Europe, the stakes go beyond solidarity with Ukraine. The concern is existential. If Ukraine is forced into surrender, Russia would feel emboldened to threaten Poland, the Baltic states, and perhaps even Central Europe. This explains why European leaders have demanded not only robust NATO-style guarantees for Ukraine but also assurances that Russia will not use any peace settlement as a staging ground for further expansion. They know that if the United States withdraws its military and financial support under Trump’s threats, the burden will shift onto Europe alone. That prospect is politically and financially untenable, and so the Europeans are determined to anchor themselves firmly in the negotiations.
The human cost of the conflict adds urgency. Millions of Ukrainians have been displaced, thousands of lives lost, and entire cities reduced to rubble. The war has devastated supply chains for energy, grain, and minerals, driving up food and oil prices, fueling inflation, and worsening hardship across the globe. Developing nations in Africa, Asia, and Latin America have been particularly hard hit, with rising bread prices triggering political unrest and shortages of fuel crippling fragile economies. Sanctions on countries trading with Russia have further compounded the crisis, choking commerce and punishing populations far from the battlefield. A resolution, however imperfect, could lift these burdens, stabilize markets, and release billions of dollars currently being spent on weapons back into reconstruction, humanitarian relief, and development.
Trump himself framed the Alaska meeting as an opening rather than an outcome, claiming progress on “many points” but offering few specifics. His tone was optimistic yet evasive, carefully avoiding commitments that might limit his room to maneuver. Putin, meanwhile, presented his maximalist plan as if it were already the only acceptable solution. Zelensky, speaking from Kyiv, rejected the idea of trading land for peace and emphasized that Ukraine’s sovereignty and territorial integrity were not negotiable. His message was clear: no deal could be reached if it forced Ukraine to concede regions without the consent of its people.
In this tension lies the fragility of the moment. Trump sees an opportunity to present himself as a peacemaker and deal-maker, potentially reshaping his image at home and abroad. Putin sees a chance to lock in gains achieved by force, turning temporary occupation into permanent sovereignty. Zelensky faces the impossible task of defending his nation’s survival while resisting pressure from allies who may be tiring of war. Europe, caught between solidarity with Ukraine and fear of abandonment by Washington, must walk a fine line between supporting Kyiv and securing guarantees for its own security.
The way forward demands wisdom. Ceasefire must come first, for as long as bombs fall, peace talks are built on sand. Territorial disputes could be managed through international mechanisms such as supervised referenda or peacekeeping deployments, ensuring decisions are not taken under the shadow of guns. Robust, legally binding security guarantees must replace vague assurances, ensuring Ukraine cannot again be left exposed to invasion. Sanctions could be lifted in phases, tied directly to verified steps by Russia toward compliance, maintaining leverage while rewarding genuine progress. Above all, leaders must recognize that ego and pride cannot outweigh the suffering of millions.
History rarely offers golden opportunities, and when they appear, they must be grasped with courage. The Alaska summit has opened such a door, but it will slam shut if mistrust, humiliation, or unilateralism dominates the talks. If this moment is squandered, the war will not only continue but risk spreading across Europe, drawing in NATO and igniting catastrophe on a continental scale. Yet if leaders embrace compromise, soften hardened positions, and commit to saving lives rather than scoring victories, the world may remember Anchorage not as another failed summit but as the first step toward peace.
War is cruel, and its wounds are long-lasting, but peace—even fragile peace—is always worth the risk. The lives saved, the economies revived, and the trust restored will outshine any battlefield victory. The world now watches as Trump, Putin, Zelensky, and Europe decide whether to rise to the occasion or condemn millions to further destruction. The choice is theirs, and history will judge them accordingly.