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Iran’s Hormuz choice: trust pays, coercion doesn’t

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Iran’s Hormuz choice: trust pays, coercion doesn’t

History suggests geography can be a nation’s greatest economic asset or its greatest geopolitical liability.

Whenever maritime arteries have been disrupted — whether by war, conflict or political confrontation — the economic costs have extended far beyond the countries directly involved.

The eight-year closure of the Suez Canal after the 1967 Arab-Israeli war forced ships to sail around the Cape of Good Hope, sharply increasing voyage times, freight costs and insurance premiums.

More recently, Iran’s repeated threats to close the Strait of Hormuz, coupled with the Houthi campaign against commercial shipping in the Red Sea, have again demonstrated how even partial disruptions ripple across global supply chains, affecting exporters, importers and consumers alike.

There are two very different models of maritime commerce: monetizing geography, which can be sustainable, and weaponizing geography, which usually provokes backlash.

Egypt and Panama do not charge for the right to pass through the Suez Canal and the Panama Canal, respectively — they charge because ships are using man-made infrastructure that they built, operate and maintain.

Egypt has earned billions of dollars in Suez Canal transit fees for decades without fundamentally disrupting global trade. Even during periods of political tension, it has generally kept the canal open because its economic value depends on being seen as a reliable passage.

Panama has similarly prospered by efficiently managing one of the world’s most important maritime choke points. Its greatest strategic value has come not from restricting access but from ensuring reliable transit, while generating steady toll revenues and supporting a broad ecosystem of logistics, shipping and financial services.

The example of the Strait of Malacca is particularly instructive. Despite periodic concerns over piracy and regional tensions, Singapore, Malaysia and Indonesia have consistently treated the waterway strictly as a commercial thoroughfare.

Malaysia and Indonesia do not levy canal-style transit tolls because it is an international strait; their benefits come indirectly, through ports, bunkering, logistics, ship repair, customs, trade and industrial activity, rather than passage fees.

Singapore, in particular, has built a major maritime economy around this model. Rather than exploiting its geographic advantage, it invested in maritime security, port infrastructure and logistics.

The result has been remarkable: Singapore has evolved into one of the world’s leading ports and financial centers, while Malaysia and Indonesia have benefited from expanding trade, investment and industrial growth linked to the uninterrupted flow of commerce through the strait.

Now contrast these with examples of geography used coercively. Iran’s constant threats to shut down the Strait of Hormuz have created temporary oil price spikes and also encouraged importers to diversify supply routes, sometimes even justifying a sustained foreign naval presence.

This is reminiscent of Russia’s actions affecting energy transit to Europe, which only accelerated Europe’s efforts to reduce its dependence on Russian oil and gas. Moscow’s leverage declined over time as customers diversified.

As one of the world’s largest petroleum producers, Iran has a far greater economic interest in ensuring that its own exports move freely through Hormuz than in periodically threatening to disrupt the passage of others.

The Strait of Hormuz, like the Strait of Malacca, is a natural international strait. Under the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS), ships enjoy the right of transit passage, and coastal states cannot simply impose tolls for using the strait because they happen to control its shores.

They can charge only for specific services, such as port facilities, bunkering (fuel), repairs and navigation assistance.

This is one of the strongest critiques of Iran’s current strategy. Iran possesses perhaps the world’s most valuable geographic asset after the Suez and Panama canals. If it consistently guaranteed safe passage through the Strait of Hormuz, it could become a regional shipping and logistics hub, a preferred destination for energy infrastructure, a magnet for foreign investment and an indispensable commercial partner for Asia, Europe and the Gulf.

Instead, repeated threats to shipping have encouraged countries to seek alternatives — pipelines bypassing Hormuz, diversified energy suppliers, larger strategic petroleum reserves and greater naval deployments. The very leverage Iran seeks to preserve risks diminishing over time.

The difference is essentially one of strategy: Egypt and Panama monetize confidence. The world pays because it trusts the route will remain open. Iran, by contrast, monetizes uncertainty, seeking geopolitical leverage from the possibility of disruption — but at the cost of investment, trade and diplomatic goodwill. In the long run, the first model has consistently produced greater and more sustainable economic returns than the second.

The issue is ultimately about the balance between short-term leverage and long-term costs. Iran seeks to leverage its position astride the Strait of Hormuz because doing so provides enormous bargaining power in the moment.

It has no legal right under UNCLOS to levy transit charges simply for allowing merchant ships to pass, and even attempting to commercialize access in that manner would be economically self-defeating.

Ultimately, there are two competing models for leveraging geography. The coercive model treats a choke point as political leverage by threatening navigation. The facilitation model keeps trade routes open, predictable and commercially attractive, generating long-term economic returns.

Iran’s preference for the former reflects its security calculus: Tehran views the threat to Hormuz as one of its few effective deterrents against militarily superior adversaries. Whether preserving that leverage continues to outweigh the economic costs remains an open question.

Raghu Gururaj is a retired Indian ambassador and former foreign service officer.

Lebanese PM Calls for Full Israeli Withdrawal as Pullback Begins

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Lebanese PM Calls for Full Israeli Withdrawal as Pullback Begins


Israeli forces began withdrawing Tuesday from parts of the southern Lebanese town of Zawtar al-Gharbiyah under a US-brokered framework agreement, as the Lebanese prime minister renewed calls for a complete Israeli withdrawal. 

The withdrawal allowed the Lebanese army to begin deploying in the area, marking the first implementation of the agreement’s “pilot areas” arrangement, which is intended to facilitate Israeli withdrawals and expand the Lebanese state’s authority. 

During a visit to Zawtar al-Gharbiyah, Lebanese Prime Minister Nawaf Salam described the start of the withdrawal as “a national moment with significant political and moral dimensions.” He said Beirut would continue “all political and diplomatic efforts” to secure a full Israeli withdrawal from all Lebanese territory. 

Salam said the government had begun mobilizing resources to support residents returning to southern Lebanon. He said Lebanese army and security personnel were deployed to protect civilians, while authorities work to reopen roads, remove rubble, restore basic services, reconnect water, electricity and telecommunications, and provide temporary housing during the transition. 

The Lebanese army later reported that Israeli forces opened fire toward its troops. The Israel Defense Forces said its soldiers fired “warning shots.” 

Separately, Aoun met with President Trump at the White House Tuesday and declared Lebanon’s intention to cease hostilities with Israel and disarm Hezbollah. 

President Trump described Lebanon as “a very mistreated country” that had been “hit hard” for decades. 

Asked whether he would meet with Hezbollah leaders, the US president said he would not rule out the possibility. 

“I would speak to Hezbollah. I speak to everybody. I’ll speak to people that a lot of people think I shouldn’t be speaking to, and things work out,” President Trump said during remarks in the Oval Office. “If the president wanted me to speak to Hezbollah, I would,” he added. 

Hezbollah, however, has rejected disarmament and opposes Lebanese negotiations with the United States. 

President Trump also announced on Truth Social that he had directed his administration to allow the restoration of direct commercial air service between the United States and Lebanon, ending a suspension in place for more than 40 years. 

In the post, Trump said Aoun “has done a remarkable job working to transform his country” and expressed hope that other nations would restore direct air service to “this beautiful land.” 

 

 

 

Next Space Force chief throws cold water on the idea of space privateers

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Next Space Force chief throws cold water on the idea of space privateers

In the early years of the United States, when the nascent US Navy was still getting its sea legs, several presidents used privateers to capture or destroy enemy warships when armed naval vessels were unable to do so.

President John Adams was one of the most vigorous proponents of commissioning private vessels for national ends. His administration issued letters of marque and reprisal during the so-called “Quasi-War” with France in the final years of the 18th century. These letters created the legal distinction between privateering and piracy.

One of the letters signed by Adams, dated November 1799, authorized the use of a merchant ship to “subdue, seize, and take any armed French vessel” found near US coastal waters of “elsewhere on the high seas.” France also routinely used privateers against US shipping at the time.

The Continental Navy also relied on privateers for military purposes during the American Revolution, and President James Madison approved the use of merchant ships to fight against the much larger British Royal Navy in the War of 1812. America’s use of privateers declined as the government expanded the size of the US Navy.

The Constitution explicitly gives the government the power to use privateers. But the practice has become more controversial over the last 250 years. Many leaders in the late 18th century already considered privateering a morally ambiguous practice, according to Michael Crawford, a former senior historian at the Naval History and Heritage Command. The use of private vessels in warfare is largely moot in today’s era of US naval dominance.

A letter of marque signed by President James Madison and Secretary of State James Monroe in 1813.

A letter of marque signed by President James Madison and Secretary of State James Monroe in 1813. Credit: Naval History and Heritage Command

Benjamin Franklin wrote essays in the 1780s objecting to the use of privateers, despite his backing of privateering during the War of Independence a few years before. With the war over, he argued on humanitarian and economic grounds that privateering should be banned by all sides in any future conflict. “This will be a happy improvement of the law of nations,” Franklin wrote in a 1785 letter. “The humane and the just cannot but wish general success to the proposition.”

Franklin wasn’t the only Founding Father opposed to privateering. William Whipple, a delegate from New Hampshire of the Declaration of Independence, was more pointed in his criticism: “Those who are actively in it soon lose every idea of right and wrong, and for want of an opportunity of gratifying their insatiable avarice with the properties of the enemies of their country, will without the least compunction, seize properties of their friends.”

Privateering in the 21st century

Fast forward to today. Privateering is now prohibited under international law, and although it remains enshrined in the Constitution, the US government hasn’t used the practice since the War of 1812 (the Confederacy commissioned privateers against the Union Navy in the Civil War).

Still, some present-day lawmakers want to bring it back. Sen. Mike Lee (R-Utah) and Rep. Tim Burchett (R-Tenn.) authored a bill last year seeking to allow privateering in the fight against drug cartels. Lee and Burchett introduced a separate bill earlier this month calling for the government to use letters of marque and reprisal for cyber warfare.

In a statement, Lee said the legislation “allows American digital privateers to raid cartels, cybercriminals, and foreign adversaries” and seize their assets. “This is the ultimate in white-hat hacking: stealing from America’s enemies at the direction of the president and splitting the profits with the federal government.” Suddenly, it feels like it’s 1812 again.

So why is a space reporter writing about this arcane corner of American history? With the possible exception of cyber, the lines between commercial and military operations in space are blurrier than in any other domain in modern warfare. The rules of engagement in space are still unrefined, if they exist at all. Global debates have weighed the legitimacy of targeting commercial satellites in military operations, especially as communications networks like Starlink and numerous commercial surveillance satellites underpin nearly everything on the terrestrial battlefield.

The tentative verdict seems to be that, yes, these privately owned assets could be legitimate military targets. If that’s true, what is stopping a private operator from going on the offense in space? Would that be space piracy? Not if that operator holds a letter of marque or reprisal.

Modern military operations are interconnected across domains, from land, air, and sea to space and cyber.

Modern military operations are interconnected across domains, from land, air, and sea to space and cyber. Credit: Lockheed Martin

The US Space Force is already using privately owned satellites in military exercises, simulating offensive and defensive maneuvers to respond to threat scenarios in low-Earth orbit. Those satellites don’t actually have weapons onboard, unless you consider the option of ramming an adversary’s spacecraft. There are good reasons not to do that.

But space-based weapons will soon be part of the US arsenal, if they’re not already. US military officials believe Russia is already operationalizing an anti-satellite (ASAT) weapon system in orbit to go along with ground-based ASAT missiles. The Pentagon’s planned Golden Dome missile defense shield is designed to include space-based missile interceptors in low-Earth orbit, which could, in theory, be used to target other spacecraft.

Some aerospace and defense contractors are already developing prototypes for space-based interceptors with private investment. Others are pursuing SBIs with a mix of private and public funding.

Last year’s National Defense Authorization Act (NDAA), an annual piece of legislation that allows Congress to put its mark on defense policy, included an amendment prohibiting the Pentagon from fielding a privatized or subscription-based missile defense intercept capability. If such a system is developed, it must be owned and operated by the US military, not space privateers.

President Donald Trump signed the bill into law last December, but administration officials have said little about the restriction since then.

Sen. Jack Reed (D-RI), the top Democrat on the Senate Armed Services Committee, brought up the topic during a nomination hearing last week for the next chief of the Space Force.

“Some companies want to lease certain space assets that are actually military weapon systems that can be used to destroy other systems and even kill people,” Reed said. “Last year’s NDAA prohibited temporary ownership of space weapon systems, and the analogy is very plain. We don’t lease M4 rifles. We don’t lease F-15s, etc. This year’s NDA further clarifies the Space Force must own title to a space weapon system.”

Sen. Jack Reed greets Lt. Gen. Doug Schiess before a Senate Armed Services Committee nomination hearing on Capitol Hill on July 16, 2026, in Washington, DC.

Sen. Jack Reed greets Lt. Gen. Doug Schiess before a Senate Armed Services Committee nomination hearing on Capitol Hill on July 16, 2026, in Washington, DC. Credit: nna Moneymaker/Getty Images

Reed asked Lt. Gen. Doug Schiess, the nominee for the next Chief of Space Operations, for his views on the matter. If confirmed for the position, Schiess will serve on the Joint Chiefs of Staff, advising the president on military matters.

“There are definitely different mission areas where having commercial leasing, different ways to do that, makes sense,” Schiess said. “Satellite communications, space domain awareness, things like that. But I also agree when it is a weapon system or a capability that would be able to harm another person’s equipment, their assets, or even people, that needs to be completely owned by the Space Force and needs to be controlled.”

The Space Force is poised for a massive cash infusion. The Trump administration requested $71.1 billion for the Space Force in fiscal year 2027, a nearly 80 percent increase over the service’s overall 2026 budget of approximately $40 billion. Lawmakers appear ready to approve a budget between $50 billion and $60 billion.

Schiess mentioned hybrid models, such as those used by the National Reconnaissance Office, in which contractors actually operate some government-owned satellites. “But they always have a military member or a National Reconnaissance Office civilian that is the mission director over that.”

“I am, if confirmed, happy to work with you on that,” Schiess told Reed. “But I agree that we have to have Guardian control over those systems,” he added, referring to the military’s term for a Space Force service member.

The question is prescient. The idea of space warfare may have become normalized, but the norms themselves are lagging.

What happens when you try to chop a photon in half?

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What happens when you try to chop a photon in half?

A photon is a single particle of light, and under normal circumstances, it can’t be divided. But a photon is also not a particle, in the sense that it does not have a specific location. Instead, it is an extended object.

So if a photon is only partway through the process of reflecting from a perfect mirror and you yank the mirror away, what happens? The answer, from a trio of Norwegian physicists, turns out (arxiv.org link) to be more complex than I expected.

A photon divided?

Let’s first talk briefly about dividing and combining photons. If this were a common experience in our lives, then shining a single color of light through a piece of glass or reflecting it from a surface might cause photons to divide or combine. This would lead to an amazing array of colors: Our universe would be the most fantastic and legal LSD trip you could imagine. But this doesn’t generally happen, hence LSD.

What does happen is that photons can divide and combine under the right circumstances—essentially, the medium through which the light travels has to change in response to the light. This can lead to a rainbow of colors from a single color source.

Technically, we would say that the light interactions we see around us are linear, and the combination/division of photons is a nonlinear process. Typically, to overcome that nonlinearity, you need either a very sensitive medium or a very high-intensity light source, like a laser.

The sudden removal of the mirror while a photon is reflecting is not nonlinear in the way that I would normally think about it. But if you give it more than a moment’s thought, it’s clearly a nonlinear event. This line of thinking is obscured by how we think about single photons at mirrors, though, as I will illustrate below.

A single photon goes through the looking glass

Or does it?

Let’s start with the example of a partially reflective mirror. When a single photon hits that mirror, it will either go through the mirror or reflect from the mirror. The photon is considered to enter a superposition state of having both reflected and passed through (the probabilities of each path depending on how reflective the mirror is). If we place detectors in the path of the reflected and transmitted photons, when one clicks, it collapses the superposition, and the other potential path disappears.

There are no circumstances in which both detectors will click at the same time. We do not record half a photon each way.

Naively, we could make the same argument for a fully reflective mirror that is removed midway through reflection. In this argument, the photon enters a superposition state of transmitted and reflected, with the probability determined by when the mirror was removed compared to the “size” of the photon. Again, when we try to measure which way the photon went, we’d expect the superposition to collapse, and only one detector would click.

But that is not what happens.

When I actually stopped to think about it, it was obvious that this was wrong. But to understand why, we need some extra theoretical baggage.

A photonic thunder clap

Time and frequency are two sides of the same coin. If we play a note on a piano, there is a time-domain picture: a regular variation in pressure with time that continues for quite a while. This note can be described by a single frequency with a single amplitude (how loud it is). More complicated sounds (chords, staccato notes) have a complicated structure in time and are described by more complicated combinations of frequencies, each with its own amplitude (phase also matters, but we will ignore that).

This picture is universal and applies to all time-varying signals—and far more than those, too. When I was growing up on the farm, listening to AM radio on an old-fashioned (even then) tube radio, the music was always interrupted by a clicking noise. The clicking was from our electric fence, which was always zapping some errant grass, a misbehaving sheep, or a horny bull.

That short-sharp current generated a short electromagnetic pulse (and an angry bull). The very short pulse (in time) was present across a very broad spectrum, including, to my annoyance, the AM broadcast spectrum. The shorter an event in time, the more frequency spectrum is required to support it. On the flipside, a single tone that does not change for a very long time requires very little spectrum (only the tone itself).

This rule also applies to photons reflecting from mirrors. The photon is reflecting from the mirror, and the electromagnetic field is varying regularly and smoothly changing from the incoming to the reflected wave. The transmitted wave doesn’t exist, so the amplitude is a happy zero.

Then the mirror is yanked away. The reflected wave’s amplitude abruptly drops to zero, and the transmitted wave suddenly jumps from zero. Those are two sharp transitions that require a lot more bandwidth than the original photon had. Our photon that has been cut off is still in a superposition of reflected and transmitted. But it also has a sharp edge, which requires a multitude of photons at different frequencies.

Cutting a photon in half generates a rainbow. And as far as I can tell, the generated photons are in a superposition of both reflected and transmitted light. But since there are potentially many photons, both transmitted and reflected light could be measured simultaneously.

Can we do it for real?

This will be a complex experiment to perform. Researchers will need a source that generates single photons on demand with a very narrow spectral bandwidth. This will spread them out in time so that any additional photons that come from cutting it off are observable. They then need to be able to trigger the mirror at the right time.

This won’t be done with something like a bathroom mirror. The authors calculate that the transition from reflective to transmission needs to take place in about 10 femtoseconds (a femtosecond is 10-15 s), which is insufficient time to move a physical mirror. Some materials, like semiconductors, can be driven from reflective to transmission quite rapidly (30-100 fs) using ultrafast laser pulses as the switch. Unfortunately, that laser pulse gets in the way. It will be quite difficult to filter out the big laser pulse used to remove the mirror so that the photons generated by cutting the long single photon are observable though.

We already have some evidence that this works, though. The mirrors I described above are used to shorten ultrashort pulses, which means that the reflected pulses have more frequencies after reflection, and new photons must therefore be generated. We just haven’t observed it for single photons yet. But give it about a year, and I’d bet we will.

Physical Review Letters, 2026, DOI: 10.1103/94pm-hp34

Trump allows direct US flights to Lebanon in historic move

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Trump allows direct US flights to Lebanon in historic move


The US will allow direct flights to Lebanon, President Donald Trump announced.
It comes over 40 years after the US suspended direct flights between the two countries in 1985, during US President Ronald Reagan’s administration, in the wake of the hijacking of TWA Flight 847.
“I am hereby directing my Administration to allow all US airline carriers to fly directly to Lebanon so that Americans can easily visit this beautiful land,” Trump said in a post on his Truth Social platform.
Lebanese Prime Minister Nawaf Salam hailed Trump’s announcement. Salam said it “represents a significant opportunity to enhance travel and connectivity between Lebanon and the United States, and to support the Lebanese economy.”
The announcement comes after Trump hosted Lebanese President Michel Aoun at the White House on Tuesday.
During that meeting, Trump told Aoun that Lebanon had “been a very badly treated place and country and we’re going to have it properly treated and treated with the respect it deserves.”
“We’re gonna help it a lot,” he said, without providing specific details.
Lebanon appeals to US, Trump to help secure lasting peace
Washington has been mediating rare talks between Israel and Lebanon, but has become distracted in recent weeks by the resumption of full-scale hostilities between the US and Iran.
Aoun, who was making the first visit to the US capital by a Lebanese president since 2009, had traveled to Washington, D.C. to appeal for a longer-term, more stable peace in his country, which has been plagued by months of war between Israel and the Iran-backed, Lebanon-based militant group Hezbollah.
Aside from the resumption of direct flights between the US and Lebanon, authorities in Beirut will be hoping that this week’s talks in Washington yield an Israeli withdrawal from southern Lebanon, where Israel’s ground forces have occupied swathes of territory as part of its campaign against Hezbollah.
Trump claimed Israel’s military was “in the process of doing that. They’re in the process of redeploying,” he said, without elaborating.
Israel is occupying southern Lebanon in what it says is an effort to protect northern Israeli communities from Hezbollah attacks. Israel, along with the US, Germany and some other countries, recognize Hezbollah as a terror group.
Aoun hails Trump as ‘great president’
Aoun, for his part, heaped praise on Trump, whom he called a “great president” whose “vision is peace.”
“I do agree with that,” Trump jokingly replied, calling Aoun handsome and someone who “knows how to get to me.”
“Now he can have anything,” Trump added.

Myanmar’s ‘no single government’ line is doing the junta’s work

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Myanmar’s ‘no single government’ line is doing the junta’s work

Myanmar coup leader Senior General Min Aung Hlaing’s arrival in Vientiane, Laos, on July 3, his first state visit to an ASEAN member since crowning himself president in April, has produced a familiar chorus in the region’s policy commentariat.

Myanmar, the argument runs, no longer has one government worth recognizing. There is a junta, the UN seat that the resistance occupies but somewhat muted, a National Unity Government in exile, and a fractured periphery of ethnic armies and local militias where power keeps splintering rather than converging.

The reasonable response, the argument concludes, is for outside powers to engage whichever authority happens to control the function they need — border stability here, resource access there, counter-scam cooperation somewhere else.

It is a tidy frame. It is also mistaken in ways that quietly serve the party with the embassies and the airport landing rights. Three problems deserve naming.

First, the numbers do not describe an ungoverned country. Independent trackers put stable junta control at roughly a fifth of Myanmar. The BBC’s mapping, cited by the Council on Foreign Relations, the Special Advisory Council for Myanmar, and Myanmar’s own ISP-Myanmar converge on the same range: the regime holds around 21% of territory with any confidence, contests some of the rest and administers the balance nominally at best.

The remaining two-thirds is not empty. It is held by organizations with decades-old political wings, constitutions, judicial systems, and civilian administrations — the Kachin Independence Organization, the Karen National Union, the Karenni Interim Executive Council, the Chin National Front, the Arakan Army, and NUG-aligned People’s Defense Force units operating under civilian township administrations. Branding that landscape as “warlordism,” as some recent commentary has, writes federal politics out of Myanmar entirely.

Second, the frame has missed the most important political development of 2026. On March 30, the NUG, the Committee Representing Pyidaungsu Hluttaw, and four major ethnic revolutionary organizations (EROs) — KIO, KNU, KNPP and CNF — jointly established the Steering Council for the Emergence of a Federal Democratic Union.

Make no mistake, this is not a rebranded NUG or another exile committee. It is a coordination architecture built to align diplomacy, governance, and combat operations around a shared political program before, not after, the war ends.

Its six founding objectives are public: end military political dominance; place all armed forces under civilian control; abrogate the 2008 military-drafted constitution; write and adopt a federal democratic constitution; establish a Federal Democratic Union; and deliver transitional justice for crimes committed since — and, in many communities, long before — the 2021 coup.

A Military Strategic Cooperation and Command Committee coordinates fronts across theaters. Working streams handle constitutional drafting, transitional justice mapping, and diplomatic outreach from Bangkok to Tokyo to Ottawa, with rolling engagement of resistance groups outside the founding bloc.

None of this looks like fragmentation. It looks like federal politics being built in the middle of a war — precisely the political architecture the region has said for years that Myanmar’s resistance lacked.

Third, the frame collapses a distinction that international law does not. Engaging multiple Myanmar authorities on functional issues is defensible, and, as China and India already show, unavoidable. Recognition is different. Recognition is what the UN seat, embassies, treaty signatures, and ASEAN summit credentials confer.

Under any honest reading of the UN Charter, recognition tracks two things: constitutional legitimacy and a party’s willingness to be bound by international law. On both counts, the Myanmar military fails a test its own conduct has set.

Constitutional legitimacy in Myanmar runs from the November 2020 election, not from the 2025 exercise most of the opposition and much of the country could not participate in. Legal accountability runs through obligations the junta has discarded — the UN Charter, UN Security Council Resolution 2669 (2022) and the ASEAN Five-Point Consensus its own representatives signed.

Resolution 2669 is worth pausing on. It remains the only binding Security Council instrument on the Myanmar crisis, adopted 12-0 with China, Russia, and India abstaining rather than vetoing — a signal even the junta’s closest partners were unwilling to defend its conduct. Four years on, none of its core demands have been met.

The political prisoners it named remain in detention. The violence it demanded to end has intensified. The Five-Point Consensus it endorsed has become a diplomatic fiction. A government that treats a Security Council instrument as advisory is not a government the Council’s other members can recognize without cost to the instrument itself.

This is where the real asymmetry lies. The Myanmar military will not, in any foreseeable arrangement, deliver justice, physical protection, or accountability to the people it rules. Airstrikes on schools and clinics, mass burnings of villages, forced conscription and the continued detention of the country’s elected leadership are not a policy the institution can be persuaded to reverse. They are its modus operandi.

Justice, protection and accountability are, in Myanmar today, functions only of the Steering Council, and its members, NUG, EROs and the federal actors coordinating with them, are structurally positioned to build. They will not build them alone or quickly.

But an international posture that treats the two sides as functionally equivalent removes the one asymmetric pressure that has produced any behavioral change in Naypyidaw since 2021 and starves the actors with both the mandate and the incentive to deliver what Myanmar citizens actually need.

Timor-Leste, Singapore, and the Philippines have held this line. Manila’s foreign secretary publicly demanded that ASEAN have access to Aung San Suu Kyi around the Cebu summit and again after Naypyidaw rebuffed the ASEAN Special Envoy in June.

Dili has pushed a universal-jurisdiction war crimes complaint and paid for it with an expelled envoy. Singapore has kept its recognition posture unchanged. These are not maximalist positions. They are the positions that keep the door open to a political settlement rather than closing it.

The right question for the region is not whether Myanmar still has a singular government to recognize. It is whether the region can see the government Myanmar is actively building — and whether it will weigh support toward the actors capable of delivering the functions the UN Charter itself was written to protect.

That government has a name, a program, and, since March, an address.

James H. Shwe is an independent policy analyst and writer on Myanmar and Southeast Asian affairs based in California. He is not affiliated with the National Unity Government or the Steering Council for the Emergence of a Federal Democratic Union.

Five People Die Trying to Save Struggling Swimmer

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Five People Die Trying to Save Struggling Swimmer


Five people are dead after a desperate attempt to save a struggling swimmer in an Ohio river turned into a devastating chain tragedy.

Authorities said the nightmare unfolded Sunday along the Scioto River in Powell, a Columbus suburb, after a group gathered near the water and one person went in for a swim. Moments later, that swimmer began having trouble, prompting others in the group to jump in and try to help.

Instead, the rescue attempt quickly became a disaster.

“And that’s when the tragedy started to occur,” Delaware County Sheriff Jeffrey Balzer said at a Monday news conference.

According to officials, a passing motorist called 911 after spotting a frightened child who had been with the group running along a nearby road. The discovery led first responders to the river, where rescue crews began searching the water.

Crews found two women on Sunday. Both were rushed to a hospital, where they were pronounced dead, Balzer said.

The search continued into Monday, when authorities recovered the bodies of three men from the river, according to Tracy Whited, a spokesperson for the Delaware County Sheriff’s Department.

Two children under the age of 10 have since been placed in the care of family services, the sheriff said. One of them was the child who ran for help after the terrifying incident began.

Officials have not yet released the names of the five victims.

The deadly scene has stunned the quiet Columbus-area community and serves as a heartbreaking reminder of how quickly a day near the water can turn fatal. What appears to have started as one swimmer in distress ended with multiple people entering the river in an effort to help — and none of them making it out alive.

The Ohio tragedy came just two days after another devastating incident in southern Utah, where five members of one family were killed when a flash flood swept through canyons during a hiking trip.

Authorities have not yet released additional details about what caused the swimmer to struggle or whether river conditions played a role in the deaths. The investigation remains ongoing.

Czech nonprofits applied lessons learned during the COVID-19 pandemic to the Ukrainian refugee crisis – but had little say in key decisions

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Czech nonprofits applied lessons learned during the COVID-19 pandemic to the Ukrainian refugee crisis – but had little say in key decisions

Within a few months of Russia’s February 2022 invasion of Ukraine, more than 500,000 Ukrainian refugees arrived in the Czech Republic.

Social service nonprofits responded immediately. They organized emergency housing, connected refugees with schools and healthcare, helped families navigate government services and distributed food and other basic necessities. In the first weeks of the crisis, those nonprofits relied on volunteers and existing community networks to meet urgent needs.

I research nonprofits. My Fulbright Scholarship in the Czech Republic coincided with Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, providing an unexpected opportunity to study how nonprofits responded to the refugee crisis. With my colleagues Monica Lea and Vladimir Hyánek, I interviewed 13 Czech nonprofit leaders between February and June 2022. About a year later, we surveyed 235 Czech nonprofits.

One finding stood out: Many nonprofits that mobilized to help Ukrainian refugees weren’t starting from scratch. Instead, they were able to rely on existing partnerships, volunteer networks and systems they had developed during the COVID-19 pandemic. The experience they gained during one crisis helped those organizations respond more quickly to the next.

We also found that nonprofits were central to delivering assistance but were rarely included in decisions about how that assistance was organized. They housed refugees, coordinated volunteers, distributed supplies and helped families connect with housing, schools, healthcare and government services. Although the central government depended on nonprofits throughout the crisis, many nonprofit leaders had little say in planning and coordinating these efforts at a national level.

In our study, which we published in Nonprofit Policy Forum, an academic journal, in June 2026, we found that the nonprofits working most closely with refugees had unique, firsthand knowledge of changing needs. Yet that experience was not always incorporated into government planning and decision-making.

Several described being consulted only after key decisions had already been made, or providing feedback that was never incorporated into planning.

A glum family gathers at a dining table in a dimly lit room.

A family of Ukrainian refugees found shelter in March 2022 through a program launched by the Czech National Heritage Institute soon after the Russian war with Ukraine began. Michal Cizek/AFP via Getty Images

Why it matters

The Czech Republic, with just over 10 million people, has faced one of the largest refugee inflows in Europe relative to its population.

Czech nonprofits initially scrambled to provide these refugees with housing, education and other essential support. According to the Ministry of the Interior of the Czech Republic, nearly 385,000 Ukrainians still live in the Czech Republic under temporary protection. As the crisis has continued, public debate in the country has shifted, with growing concerns about the long-term costs of supporting Ukraine’s war effort and the country’s refugees.

The Czech experience reflects a broader challenge. Many local communities increasingly face recurring and overlapping crises, from climate-related disasters and armed conflicts to public health emergencies. Responding effectively is important, but so is applying the knowledge, relationships and experience from one crisis to the next one.

That means that as complex crises become more common, preparedness will not depend on a government’s capacity alone.

Clearly, nonprofits will always need to mobilize and respond when crises strike. Our research highlights an important question: Will governments adapt their policies, funding and decision-making to reflect the central role nonprofits now play in countries like the Czech Republic?

What still isn’t known

Researchers still know little about how knowledge gained during one crisis can strengthen preparedness for the next. Understanding how governments and nonprofits preserve that knowledge, build on it and use it to shape planning may prove just as important as understanding how they respond during future disasters.

The Research Brief is a short take about interesting academic work.

US Army faces AI use limits after exhausting year’s supply of AI tokens

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US Army faces AI use limits after exhausting year’s supply of AI tokens

A little over a month after the Department of Defense (DOD) bragged that nearly half of its 3.5 million employees were using AI at work, members of the Army’s Combat Capabilities Development Command (DEVCOM) received an email informing them that they were burning through tokens, and needed to limit use.

“Although the Army CIO announced in May 2026 that they were offering unlimited tokens, by mid-June the Army CIO pool was exhausted of tokens and had to re-establish limits,” the email reads. The email goes on to say that although the Army has chosen to renew token usage at “its current levels,” it’s unclear “if the Army CIO pool will be renewed after 1 Oct.”

The Army uses Ask Sage, a multimodal generative AI platform where users can run different large language models (LLMs), including Alphabet’s Gemini, Meta’s Llama, and OpenAI’s ChatGPT. “Apparently the whole Army burned through the whole year of tokens for just one service,” says an Army employee who spoke to WIRED anonymously because they were not authorized to speak to the press.

Ask Sage is used by the Army to “power its enterprise LLM workspace” and is “accredited for Controlled Unclassified Information.” It is also used by the DOD’s Chief Digital and AI Office (CDAO) for acquisitions. According to the Army’s website, Ask Sage was used to complete tasks like “reclassifying personnel descriptions, which involves defining and aligning job duties, experience and backgrounds.”

The Army employee says that the Army has been pushing its workers to lean into using generative AI. Employees were given an allotment of at least 200,000 tokens per month, according to emails viewed by WIRED, and were automatically allocated more if they burned through their initial allotment. Employees who had signed up for Ask Sage but were not regularly using it would receive emails encouraging them to use more of their allocated tokens.

In order to use Ask Sage, the Army had access to 100,000,000 tokens as part of an annual subscription to an “enterprise pack.” Tokens represent a unit of output, either in text or image, from an LLM. For the Ask Sage tool, a single token equates to about 3.7 characters, according to documents viewed by WIRED. The Defense Department burned through some 20 billion tokens per day during the 38-day Operation Epic Fury in Iran, according to Breaking Defense.

The Army and DOD didn’t reply to requests for comment; neither did Ask Sage.

It’s unclear if the tokens used by regular DOD employees are drawn from the same pool as those who might be using AI tools on classified or secret information. This hasn’t stopped the Defense Department’s emphasis on AI. On Monday, the Intercept reported that the Pentagon has continued to lean into AI tools, and has cut the staff at the Civilian Protection Center of Excellence, whose jobs entailed preventing civilian casualties in conflict zones. Instead, the DOD is developing an AI tool to speed up the assessments that the Center’s staff would normally make.

The Army is not the first eager adopter of generative AI to rethink their near unlimited use. After encouraging employees to “tokenmaxx,” Meta quietly took down its leaderboard tracking token usage and is now trying to curb use. Last week, Adam Mosseri, head of Instagram at Meta, floated the idea of capping token use per engineer at the company. According to reporting from Fortune, Uber also saw its engineers burning through a year’s worth of generative AI tokens in merely four months.

The Army employee says they have not found the generative AI tools to be particularly useful for their work, and that when they have used the tools, they have found them to be unreliable. One model even asserted that it had completed a task that it hadn’t, they say. “I think there are definitely several aspects of the bureaucracy of the US federal government that these tools might be helpful with. But an unthinking application and use is not going to result in an effective, efficient, and trustworthy rollout.”

This story originally appeared on wired.com.

Oslo on the Strait of Hormuz

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Oslo on the Strait of Hormuz

The most successful peace processes are often those that allow the stronger party to continue the war under diplomatic cover.

Bombs fall. Ports close. Civilians die. Then diplomats appear before polished lecterns to announce that dialogue remains “constructive.” Constructive for whom is never explained.

Not for those beneath the aircraft. Not for the states ordered to negotiate while under attack. But extremely constructive for empire, which has perfected the art of converting aggression into procedure and coercion into statesmanship.

The emerging American-Iranian “peace process” belongs to this tradition of organised fraud.

A Pakistan-brokered, 14-point memorandum was presented as a path toward ending hostilities, reopening the Strait of Hormuz, suspending attacks, and negotiating a durable settlement. Within weeks, the United States resumed strikes across Iran. Tehran retaliated against American military infrastructure and regional facilities used to sustain Washington’s war machine. The diplomats continued talking. The missiles continued flying.

This is not diplomacy failing. This is diplomacy doing its job.

The model is Oslo. Oslo did not simply fail to halt Israeli colonisation. It gave colonization a timetable, a vocabulary, and international protection. Palestinian resistance was converted into negotiation; negotiation into delay; delay into settlements, checkpoints, land seizures, assassinations, and walls. Israel manufactured facts on the ground while Western diplomats manufactured expressions of concern.

The bulldozer advanced. The communiqué regretted.

Washington now offers Tehran the same poisoned chalice: suspend your momentum, surrender your leverage, enter an endless process, and trust the empire that is bombing you to define what “de-escalation” means.

In the imperial dictionary, American violence is never violence. It is “deterrence,” “force protection,” “stabilisation,” or some other phrase embalmed in Pentagon varnish. Israeli violence enjoys the same miraculous purification. Occupation becomes security. Siege becomes self-defence. Mass killing becomes an operational necessity. The victims, meanwhile, are accused of escalation the moment they refuse to die quietly.

Empire’s greatest privilege is not military superiority. It is control over chronology. History begins when the target retaliates.

The memorandum’s asymmetry is therefore not accidental. Iran is expected to prove good faith materially: restrain its forces, facilitate shipping, limit retaliation, and enter negotiations over sanctions, reconstruction, regional security, and its nuclear program. Washington proves good faith rhetorically, usually while refuelling the aircraft.

This is imperial reciprocity: one side relinquishes power; the other supplies adjectives.

The Oslo analogy is structural. Oslo transformed an anti-colonial struggle into a management system supervised by Israel’s chief sponsor. The danger now is that the US-Iran framework becomes a similar mechanism: Iran is asked to regulate its resistance while the United States regulates nothing — not its sanctions, not its bases, not its blockades, not its covert operations, and certainly not its appetite for regime change.

Negotiations become a waiting room in which the besieged are ordered to sit patiently while the empire rearranges the battlefield.

The Israeli precedent makes the danger unmistakable. For decades, Israel has negotiated precisely as it wages war: to gain time, divide opponents, neutralize pressure, and convert temporary advantage into permanent domination. Its “peace process” with the Palestinians was never designed to end colonialism. It was designed to make colonialism
administratively respectable.

Washington learned the lesson well because Washington financed it. The choice of Switzerland for subsequent talks merely perfects the obscenity. Imperial violence has always preferred beautiful scenery. There is something reassuringly civilized about discussing missile strikes beneath snow-covered mountains while people elsewhere are
reduced to ash. The coffee is excellent. The language is measured. The corpses, mercifully, remain offstage.

From Oslo to the Alps, the scenery changes. The choreography does not.

Iran should negotiate, but it should not confuse negotiation with peace. States negotiate because war is costly and strategy requires flexibility. The question is whether talks restrain coercion or merely reorganize it. A process that permits one side to bomb, sanction, blockade, threaten, and sabotage while demanding “confidence-building
measures” from the other is not diplomacy.

It is war translated into bureaucratic prose.

Oslo’s warning is brutal: what empire cannot destroy militarily, it will attempt to dissolve procedurally. The Palestinians entered Oslo with an uprising and emerged with an authority compelled to administer fragments of their own dispossession. Iran must not enter negotiations possessing deterrence and emerge possessing minutes from meetings.

The United States will continue bombing in the name of peace because contradiction is the operating system of empire. It destroys a facility on Monday, demands restraint on Tuesday, and convenes talks on Wednesday about Iran’s troubling lack of trust. The satire writes itself. The dead cannot laugh.

Oslo taught the world that negotiations can become the diplomatic wing of conquest. The question now is whether Tehran has learned that lesson — or whether history will repeat itself with Persian ruins, Pakistani mediators, Swiss hotels, Israeli applause, and the Pentagon solemnly bombing its way toward peace.

The views expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial policy of Middle East Monitor.

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