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 world where powerful nations proudly proclaim themselves as guardians of peace, human rights, and prosperity, humanity finds itself facing a bitter irony. The very countries that claim to champion democracy and protect innocent lives are also the largest producers and exporters of weapons of mass destruction. They present themselves as leaders of a compassionate, progressive, and peaceful global order, yet their economies thrive on creating machines of death that fuel wars, destabilize regions, and leave millions of innocent civilians suffering.
The United States sits atop this paradox, projecting itself as the ultimate protector of human rights, democracy, and freedom, while simultaneously leading the world in arms production. American defense giants like Lockheed Martin, RTX (Raytheon Technologies), Northrop Grumman, Boeing, and General Dynamics dominate the global weapons market, generating defense revenues exceeding $246 billion annually. These corporations design and build technologies so advanced and lethal that they could destroy the world many times over. More troubling is the reality that the survival of these companies, and the jobs and profits they sustain, depends on perpetual conflict. The more wars there are, the greater the demand for their weapons, and the greater the growth of their revenues and influence. In 2024, the United States alone accounted for 43% of the world’s total arms exports, while global military spending crossed an unprecedented $2.44 trillion.
Following closely behind, the United Kingdom proudly claims the mantle of being a defender of global rights and humanitarian values, yet its defense sector plays an equally significant role in perpetuating conflicts. Its leading defense contractor, BAE Systems, ranks among the top global arms manufacturers, earning nearly $30 billion annually from the production of fighter jets, warships, and missile systems that find their way into war-torn regions. While London speaks of upholding peace and protecting civilians, its weapons often contribute directly to the destruction of those very lives.
China and Russia, positioned as counterweights to Western dominance, are no less invested in the economics of militarization. China, under the banner of “peaceful modernization,” has emerged as the third-largest weapons producer, with companies like AVIC, Norinco, and CETC collectively earning over $57 billion annually. It has developed cutting-edge systems, including the J-20 stealth fighter, hypersonic missiles, and naval destroyers, strengthening its position across the Asia-Pacific. At the same time, the United States’ creation of an expansive ring of missile defense systems stretching across the South China Sea, Japan, and the Asia-Pacific has created a dangerous tinderbox where even a minor miscalculation could ignite a devastating conflict. Russia, through its state-owned conglomerate Rostec, generates over $21 billion annually by producing S-400 missile defense systems, Su-35 fighter jets, attack helicopters, and artillery systems, supplying weapons not only for its own military operations but also to proxy nations aligned with Moscow’s interests. In Ukraine, Russian-made weapons and Western-supplied arms clash daily, turning the country into a laboratory of destruction where innocent civilians suffer the consequences of great-power rivalry.
Amid these competing superpowers, Israel presents yet another paradox. While accusing other nations, particularly Iran, of pursuing weapons of mass destruction, Israel itself is a major arms exporter and maintains one of the most advanced nuclear and missile capabilities in the world. Its defense firms collectively generate over $12 billion annually, developing cutting-edge drones, anti-missile systems, and precision-guided munitions. Many of these technologies are exported to regions already embroiled in conflict, while others are deployed directly in Gaza and the West Bank, where their usage has caused devastating civilian casualties. Israel’s defense industry has positioned the country as both a buyer and seller of destruction, all while claiming to act solely in the name of security and self-defense.
This is the grim irony of our time: the countries that boast of being peacemakers and champions of human rights are also the largest merchants of war. Their economies are heavily tied to weapons production, creating a vicious cycle where economic prosperity depends on sustaining conflict. A single corporation like Lockheed Martin earns more annually than the combined GDP of many low-income nations. Instead of directing resources toward alleviating poverty, combating climate change, and advancing healthcare and education, the global powers pour trillions into developing weapons capable of wiping out humanity.
The consequences of this relentless militarization are profound. As these powerful nations produce increasingly destructive weapons, they make the world less stable, less safe, and less humane. Wars in Ukraine, Gaza, Yemen, Kashmir, and the South China Sea are not isolated tragedies—they are symptoms of a deeper sickness in a world where power, greed, and profit dictate global priorities. Civilians pay the ultimate price, as bombs flatten their homes, missiles kill their children, and entire generations grow up amid rubble and trauma. Every year, thousands of innocent men, women, and children are killed or maimed, not because they started wars, but because they are caught between powers competing for influence and dominance.
What makes this tragedy even more alarming is that the very powers manufacturing these weapons cannot escape the chaos they unleash. History has repeatedly shown that destruction spreads. A world destabilized by endless wars, fueled by weapons flowing across borders, eventually threatens the prosperity, security, and stability of the nations that created this vicious cycle. The illusion that they can remain islands of peace and prosperity while exporting destruction is fading. No society is immune to the blowback of perpetual conflict.
The rise of smaller players in the global arms trade further intensifies this dangerous dynamic. Countries like Turkey, once peripheral in weapons manufacturing, now have six firms ranked among the world’s top 100 arms producers, supplying drones, artillery, and combat vehicles used in conflicts stretching from Libya to the Caucasus. Israel, too, stands at the forefront of the military-industrial race, while increasingly volatile regions like the Middle East have become testing grounds for deadly technologies designed and exported by these so-called peacemakers.
The earth itself, a fragile blue dot in the vastness of the universe, sustains life only because of rare, delicate conditions that allow us to exist. Yet, in the race for military dominance and profit, humanity edges closer to undermining the very survival of this planet. Every year, advances in weapons technology push us further toward the precipice, while diplomacy and cooperation take a back seat to greed and power politics. If we continue down this path, the destruction these nations sow abroad will inevitably circle back, consuming the prosperity and security they seek to protect.
It does not have to be this way. The trillions spent on creating weapons of mass destruction could instead be invested in eliminating poverty, improving education, expanding healthcare, and combating climate change. Innovation and technology can uplift humanity rather than destroy it. But this requires leadership—true leadership—not the hypocrisy of nations that preach peace while building instruments of death. It requires recognizing that peace cannot be manufactured by fueling conflict, that real security lies not in amassing weapons, but in building trust, cooperation, and fairness among nations.
The nations that pride themselves on being the architects of a just and peaceful global order must confront the uncomfortable truth: as long as their economies depend on producing tools of destruction, genuine peace will remain out of reach. The business of war has made the world less safe, less fair, and less hopeful. And unless humanity takes a collective stand to break this cycle, we may find ourselves on a path from which there is no return.
This is the lesson history has taught us time and again, yet we forget it with dangerous consistency. If the powers that dominate today do not change course, they too will face the same destruction they unleash upon others. It is time to choose a different path—one that values life over profit, compassion over greed, and cooperation over conflict. The survival of humanity depends on our willingness to dismantle the engines of destruction we have built and embrace the possibility of creating a world where peace is more than a slogan; it is a reality.

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.

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.

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