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 : Benjamin Netanyahu’s recent rush to Washington was not routine diplomacy. It was a geopolitical stress test. Since President Donald Trump resumed office, the Israeli prime minister has maintained close coordination with Washington. Yet this visit carried an urgency that signaled concern — perhaps even anxiety. The core question hovering over the meeting was unmistakable: Would the United States once again expand confrontation with Iran under Israeli pressure, or was Washington beginning to assert strategic independence?
The regional environment is tense. The United States has reinforced its military posture across the Gulf and Eastern Mediterranean, citing deterrence and stability. Iran’s nuclear enrichment levels — reportedly reaching up to 60% purity according to the International Atomic Energy Agency — remain the focal point of Western concern. Tehran insists its program is peaceful and reversible, while Israel views it as an existential threshold.
Netanyahu arrived seeking expansion of the negotiation framework. Israel has long argued that any agreement must go beyond uranium enrichment to include limits on Iran’s ballistic missile program and restrictions on its regional alliances. In Israeli strategic doctrine, Iran’s missile range and regional deterrence network form a unified threat architecture.
Yet post-meeting signals from Washington were restrained. President Trump indicated that nuclear talks would continue — but remain confined to the nuclear file. No immediate commitment was made to incorporate missile restrictions or regional dismantlement demands. That silence spoke volumes.
For decades, Washington’s Middle East posture closely mirrored Israeli security framing. This time, the United States appeared to draw a boundary. Why now?
First, domestic opinion is shifting. The Gaza war has deeply polarized American society. Estimates from humanitarian agencies suggest total Palestinian fatalities — direct and indirect — have surpassed 80,000 since the conflict’s escalation. The scale of destruction has fueled sustained protests across American universities and major cities. Younger voters increasingly question unconditional military assistance and open-ended strategic alignment.
Organizations such as the American Israel Public Affairs Committee remain influential, but the environment has changed. Campaign contributions and policy alignments are scrutinized in real time through digital media ecosystems. Lawmakers now face direct public questioning regarding foreign aid allocations and lobbying relationships.
Second, the economic calculus is sobering. A full-scale war with Iran would dwarf previous Middle Eastern interventions. The Iraq War cost the United States an estimated $2–3 trillion over two decades. Iran is geographically larger, militarily more advanced, and strategically integrated into regional networks. Disruption of the Strait of Hormuz — through which roughly 20% of global oil supply flows — could send crude prices above $150 per barrel. Inflationary shocks would ripple through American households already burdened by high interest rates and federal debt exceeding $34 trillion.
Third, the geopolitical landscape is no longer unipolar. China and Russia maintain strategic partnerships with Tehran. Europe has little appetite for another Middle Eastern war. The Global South increasingly resists Western military adventurism. Any unilateral escalation risks diplomatic isolation rather than coalition-building. In this context, “America First” takes on new meaning. Strategic restraint becomes not weakness, but prudence.
Netanyahu’s urgency reflects Israel’s own vulnerability calculations. From Jerusalem’s perspective, Iran’s missile program and regional alliances create encirclement risk. Israel’s security doctrine prioritizes preemption and dominance. But Washington’s calculus is broader: preserving global stability, economic balance, and strategic bandwidth across multiple theaters — including Ukraine and the Indo-Pacific.
Nuclear containment through verifiable inspection may be imperfect, but it is far less costly than war. The International Atomic Energy Agency remains central to any enforceable framework. If Iran restores comprehensive inspection access and caps enrichment levels, escalation logic weakens. Tehran frequently references a religious decree prohibiting nuclear weapons, though Western governments demand technical verification over theological assurances.
Washington increasingly recognizes that unqualified alignment with Israel carries reputational costs. In a world where emerging powers challenge U.S. moral authority, strategic overreach erodes influence.
There is also the question of sustainability. Continuous regional fragmentation — Iraq, Syria, Libya — has not produced durable stability. Military decapitation strategies have often created power vacuums rather than order. Iran, unlike those states, possesses cohesive national institutions and deep historical identity. Attempting regime destabilization would carry unpredictable consequences.
The emerging signal from Washington is not abandonment of Israel. It is recalibration. Conditional partnership rather than automatic escalation.In geopolitical terms, this is subtle but profound. For the first time in decades, the United States appears willing to define its own negotiation parameters, even when they do not fully align with Israeli maximalist positions.
If diplomacy holds, several outcomes become possible. Nuclear transparency reduces immediate escalation risk. Multilateral engagement on Gaza diffuses regional tension. Economic stabilization limits energy shocks. Strategic focus remains distributed rather than concentrated in one volatile theater.
But if negotiations collapse, pressure will return — from hawkish factions in Washington and from Israeli leadership advocating preemption. The durability of this recalibration will then face its true test. History rarely pivots on dramatic declarations. It turns on measured refusals — on lines quietly drawn.
Netanyahu’s urgent visit may ultimately be remembered not for what was demanded, but for what was declined. If Washington sustains its current posture, it signals a new doctrine: partnership without submission, deterrence without recklessness, and diplomacy before dominance.
In a region long defined by escalation cycles, even strategic restraint can reshape history. The question is no longer whether America supports Israel. The question is whether America will define its Middle East policy by Israeli urgency — or by American interest. The answer to that question may determine the next decade of regional stability.

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 : Benjamin Netanyahu’s recent rush to Washington was not routine diplomacy. It was a geopolitical stress test. Since President Donald Trump resumed office, the Israeli prime minister has maintained close coordination with Washington. Yet this visit carried an urgency that signaled concern — perhaps even anxiety. The core question hovering over the meeting was unmistakable: Would the United States once again expand confrontation with Iran under Israeli pressure, or was Washington beginning to assert strategic independence?
The regional environment is tense. The United States has reinforced its military posture across the Gulf and Eastern Mediterranean, citing deterrence and stability. Iran’s nuclear enrichment levels — reportedly reaching up to 60% purity according to the International Atomic Energy Agency — remain the focal point of Western concern. Tehran insists its program is peaceful and reversible, while Israel views it as an existential threshold.
Netanyahu arrived seeking expansion of the negotiation framework. Israel has long argued that any agreement must go beyond uranium enrichment to include limits on Iran’s ballistic missile program and restrictions on its regional alliances. In Israeli strategic doctrine, Iran’s missile range and regional deterrence network form a unified threat architecture.
Yet post-meeting signals from Washington were restrained. President Trump indicated that nuclear talks would continue — but remain confined to the nuclear file. No immediate commitment was made to incorporate missile restrictions or regional dismantlement demands. That silence spoke volumes.
For decades, Washington’s Middle East posture closely mirrored Israeli security framing. This time, the United States appeared to draw a boundary. Why now?
First, domestic opinion is shifting. The Gaza war has deeply polarized American society. Estimates from humanitarian agencies suggest total Palestinian fatalities — direct and indirect — have surpassed 80,000 since the conflict’s escalation. The scale of destruction has fueled sustained protests across American universities and major cities. Younger voters increasingly question unconditional military assistance and open-ended strategic alignment.
Organizations such as the American Israel Public Affairs Committee remain influential, but the environment has changed. Campaign contributions and policy alignments are scrutinized in real time through digital media ecosystems. Lawmakers now face direct public questioning regarding foreign aid allocations and lobbying relationships.
Second, the economic calculus is sobering. A full-scale war with Iran would dwarf previous Middle Eastern interventions. The Iraq War cost the United States an estimated $2–3 trillion over two decades. Iran is geographically larger, militarily more advanced, and strategically integrated into regional networks. Disruption of the Strait of Hormuz — through which roughly 20% of global oil supply flows — could send crude prices above $150 per barrel. Inflationary shocks would ripple through American households already burdened by high interest rates and federal debt exceeding $34 trillion.
Third, the geopolitical landscape is no longer unipolar. China and Russia maintain strategic partnerships with Tehran. Europe has little appetite for another Middle Eastern war. The Global South increasingly resists Western military adventurism. Any unilateral escalation risks diplomatic isolation rather than coalition-building. In this context, “America First” takes on new meaning. Strategic restraint becomes not weakness, but prudence.
Netanyahu’s urgency reflects Israel’s own vulnerability calculations. From Jerusalem’s perspective, Iran’s missile program and regional alliances create encirclement risk. Israel’s security doctrine prioritizes preemption and dominance. But Washington’s calculus is broader: preserving global stability, economic balance, and strategic bandwidth across multiple theaters — including Ukraine and the Indo-Pacific.
Nuclear containment through verifiable inspection may be imperfect, but it is far less costly than war. The International Atomic Energy Agency remains central to any enforceable framework. If Iran restores comprehensive inspection access and caps enrichment levels, escalation logic weakens. Tehran frequently references a religious decree prohibiting nuclear weapons, though Western governments demand technical verification over theological assurances.
Washington increasingly recognizes that unqualified alignment with Israel carries reputational costs. In a world where emerging powers challenge U.S. moral authority, strategic overreach erodes influence.
There is also the question of sustainability. Continuous regional fragmentation — Iraq, Syria, Libya — has not produced durable stability. Military decapitation strategies have often created power vacuums rather than order. Iran, unlike those states, possesses cohesive national institutions and deep historical identity. Attempting regime destabilization would carry unpredictable consequences.
The emerging signal from Washington is not abandonment of Israel. It is recalibration. Conditional partnership rather than automatic escalation.In geopolitical terms, this is subtle but profound. For the first time in decades, the United States appears willing to define its own negotiation parameters, even when they do not fully align with Israeli maximalist positions.
If diplomacy holds, several outcomes become possible. Nuclear transparency reduces immediate escalation risk. Multilateral engagement on Gaza diffuses regional tension. Economic stabilization limits energy shocks. Strategic focus remains distributed rather than concentrated in one volatile theater.
But if negotiations collapse, pressure will return — from hawkish factions in Washington and from Israeli leadership advocating preemption. The durability of this recalibration will then face its true test. History rarely pivots on dramatic declarations. It turns on measured refusals — on lines quietly drawn.
Netanyahu’s urgent visit may ultimately be remembered not for what was demanded, but for what was declined. If Washington sustains its current posture, it signals a new doctrine: partnership without submission, deterrence without recklessness, and diplomacy before dominance.
In a region long defined by escalation cycles, even strategic restraint can reshape history. The question is no longer whether America supports Israel. The question is whether America will define its Middle East policy by Israeli urgency — or by American interest. The answer to that question may determine the next decade of regional stability.

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 red caps were impossible to miss. In Copenhagen’s winter chill, protesters gathered waving Danish and Greenlandic flags, their message stitched in bold white letters across crimson fabric: “Make America Go Away.” What began as a satirical play on Donald Trump’s “Make America Great Again” slogan has become something more serious — a symbol of European unease, even defiance, in the face of escalating rhetoric over Greenland.
The hats were created by Danish vintage shop owner Jesper Rabe Tonnesen. Initially a novelty, they gained traction only after Washington intensified its language about Greenland’s strategic value and potential American control. What might once have been dismissed as political theatre began to feel real. “This isn’t reality TV,” Tonnesen remarked. “It’s actually reality.” Within a single weekend, thousands of caps were ordered. Protest signs at Copenhagen’s city hall declared “No Means No” and “Make America Smart Again,” combining humor with unmistakable political intent.
The symbolism extended beyond Denmark. At the Winter Olympics opening ceremony in Milan, Vice President JD Vance was met with audible boos when his image appeared on stadium screens during the Parade of Nations. The U.S. delegation of athletes received cheers, but the mood shifted when the camera cut to the American political contingent. Italian protesters had already marched earlier that day against reports of U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement personnel advising on Olympic security. For many Europeans, the moment crystallized a broader frustration — not necessarily with the American people, but with Washington’s posture.
The episode in Milan was not isolated. It came amid growing debate in Europe over U.S. foreign policy choices, including the controversial military operation that resulted in the capture of Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro, heightened tensions with Iran, and Washington’s unwavering alignment with Israel during the Gaza conflict. Each event, viewed individually, can be defended by American policymakers as a matter of national security or strategic necessity. But collectively, they are reshaping perceptions abroad.
Greenland, long considered a peripheral issue outside diplomatic circles, has suddenly become central to Arctic geopolitics. Its vast mineral reserves, strategic location, and proximity to new shipping lanes have elevated its importance in a world defined by great-power competition. Yet the tone of Washington’s overtures — seen by many in Denmark as coercive — has triggered a backlash. European governments have publicly reaffirmed Denmark’s sovereignty and emphasized that territorial integrity is non-negotiable. The Arctic, once framed as a zone of cooperation, now risks becoming a theatre of suspicion.
Relations with Canada have been further strained by controversy surrounding the Gordie Howe International Bridge, a $6.4 billion infrastructure project linking Detroit, Michigan, and Windsor, Ontario. The bridge—expected to open in 2026—is jointly owned on a 50/50 basis by the State of Michigan and the Government of Canada. Notably, Canada financed the entire construction cost after Michigan lawmakers declined to contribute upfront funding. However, in January 2026, Trump threatened to block the bridge’s opening unless the United States was “fully compensated,” suggesting America should own “at least one half” of the asset—despite the existing equal ownership structure. The dispute underscores how a project designed to strengthen bilateral trade—facilitating approximately 25% of total U.S.-Canada goods trade that crosses the Detroit River corridor—has become entangled in broader trade tensions and political leverage, raising concerns about the reliability of cross-border economic cooperation.
Meanwhile, the operation in Venezuela has set a dangerous precedent for unilateral intervention and raised questions about international law. Latin American leaders voiced alarm at the optics of a powerful nation apprehending a sitting head of state. Whether justified or not, the event reinforced a perception among some allies that Washington is increasingly comfortable acting alone.
Soft power — the intangible currency of legitimacy, cultural attraction, and moral authority — depends less on force and more on trust. The United States has historically wielded enormous soft power, built on alliances, democratic ideals, economic partnerships, and cultural influence. But soft power can erode quietly. It does not collapse in a single moment; it thins through accumulated grievances.
The Gaza conflict has intensified that erosion. While Washington frames its position as support for a longstanding ally, public opinion across Europe has grown sharply critical of Israeli military actions. In cities from Berlin to London to Copenhagen, demonstrations have linked U.S. policy directly to the humanitarian crisis. Israel itself has faced a steep reputational decline internationally, and by extension, so has the United States as its principal backer.
At home, polarization further complicates America’s global image. Open confrontations between federal and state authorities on immigration, sanctuary policies, and law enforcement create the impression of internal instability. For foreign observers, domestic discord weakens diplomatic leverage. Allies prefer predictability. Strategic partnerships rely on continuity.
The war in Ukraine also looms large. What began as a united Western front against Russian aggression has grown more complex. Questions about burden-sharing, fatigue, and long-term commitment circulate in European capitals. If America appears distracted or transactional, doubts multiply.
What the red caps truly signify is not a desire for American disappearance, but a demand for recalibration. Satire often captures what formal diplomacy cannot. “Make America Go Away” is less a literal plea than an expression of frustration — a shorthand for “we feel unheard.”
Power exercised without broad consent becomes expensive. Influence sustained through persuasion endures. If Washington is perceived as substituting pressure for partnership, the cost will not appear immediately in treaties or troop deployments. It will surface in subtle ways: in public opinion polls, in parliamentary debates, in hesitant endorsements at multilateral forums.
The United States does not deserve to be haunted by slogans calling for its departure, nor should its leaders be booed at global celebrations meant to transcend politics. But neither can those moments be dismissed as trivial. They are signals. They reflect accumulated discontent over tone, method, and alignment.
The challenge now is not whether America should go away. It is whether it can pause, reassess, and restore confidence among those who once viewed it as indispensable. The red caps in Copenhagen may fade from fashion. The deeper question is whether the sentiments they represent will fade as well — or whether they mark the beginning of a more profound shift in the transatlantic relationship.
Bridges can connect, or they can become bargaining chips. The choice, ultimately, rests not in slogans, but in statecraft.