As crowds of demonstrators rallied outside the iconic Kennedy Center to push back against looming plans to tear the building down, Kerry Kennedy, niece of the late former U.S. President John F. Kennedy, sat down for an exclusive interview with BBC correspondent Caitríona Perry to share her fierce opposition to the proposed demolition. In the conversation, Perry highlighted the growing public anger that had brought dozens of community members, heritage advocates, and those connected to the Kennedy legacy out to the venue’s steps, where they carried signs and chanted to demand that the historic site be spared from destruction. When asked about the stakes of the current fight, Kerry Kennedy did not mince words, telling Perry that demolishing the center, a space long tied to her family’s legacy of public service and cultural engagement, would be nothing short of a profound tragedy. She went on to note that the venue has served as a hub for artistic expression, community gathering, and national remembrance for decades, arguing that its cultural and historical value far outweighs any potential benefits that could come from clearing the site for new development. The demonstration comes amid ongoing local debates over the future of the property, with development groups pushing for redevelopment to meet shifting urban needs, while preservationists and political figures with ties to the Kennedy family have mobilized in recent weeks to halt the demolition plans. In the interview, Kerry Kennedy emphasized that the fight to save the Kennedy Center is not just about preserving a building, but about protecting a piece of American history that continues to bring people together across political and social divides. She called on local leaders and community members to add their voices to the campaign, urging decision-makers to reconsider the demolition proposal and explore alternative options that would allow the center to remain standing for future generations.
作者： admin
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Would Australians support a smart glasses ban?
A heated public debate has emerged across Australia over a potential new restriction that would prohibit the use of smart glasses inside federal and state government offices, a policy shift that has prompted questions about privacy, security, and everyday convenience for citizens and public servants alike. As policymakers weigh the risks and benefits of moving forward with the ban, the BBC reached out to ordinary residents across Sydney to capture a cross-section of public opinion on the controversial proposal. The talks around a possible ban come amid growing global concern about the security risks posed by wearable connected devices, which come equipped with built-in cameras, microphones, and constant internet connectivity. Security experts have warned that these devices could easily be used to capture sensitive classified information, record confidential conversations between government officials, or even transmit data to unauthorized third parties in real time. Proponents of the ban argue that placing restrictions on smart glasses in sensitive government workspace is a common-sense precaution that aligns with existing rules banning other recording devices in secure areas. Critics, however, have pushed back against the proposal, arguing that overly broad restrictions could create unnecessary inconvenience for people who rely on smart glasses for accessibility purposes, such as users with visual impairments who use the devices for navigation, real-time text transcription, or other assistive features. Among Sydney residents surveyed by the BBC, opinions were deeply divided. Some locals expressed full support for the ban, noting that protecting government information and national security must be the top priority, and that the risk of data breaches far outweighs the convenience of wearable devices in sensitive workplaces. Others argued that a targeted, risk-based approach would be more effective than a full blanket ban, suggesting that restrictions could be limited only to the most secure areas of government offices rather than applying to all government workspaces entirely. Still other respondents raised concerns about the future of wearable technology regulation, pointing out that as smart devices become more integrated into everyday life, broad bans on popular tools could erode personal convenience and slow the adoption of accessibility technology for people with disabilities. As the Australian government continues to review the proposal and gather public input, the outcome of this debate could set a major precedent for wearable device regulation across public sector workplaces in other countries around the world.
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Tata Sons: India’s corporate crown braces for upheaval amid boardroom revolt
A high-stakes corporate conflict has erupted at Tata Sons, one of India’s oldest and most influential conglomerates that owns iconic global brands including Jaguar Land Rover and Tetley Tea, after the company’s board defied its majority shareholder Tata Trusts to reappoint N Chandrasekaran as chairman and advance plans for a public listing of the holding company.
Tata Trusts, which holds a 66% controlling stake in Tata Sons, has denounced the board’s decision as unlawful under the company’s articles of association and has made clear its opposition to the public listing, setting the stage for months of potential corporate upheaval and a drawn-out legal battle at Bombay House, the Mumbai headquarters of the 158-year-old industrial group. Boardroom conflicts are not new to the Tata Group, but the current rift has cast a wide cloud of uncertainty over the conglomerate’s operations, strategy, and leadership at multiple levels.
While the board has approved Chandrasekaran’s reappointment, the decision still faces a critical vote at the company’s upcoming Annual General Meeting (AGM), where Tata Trusts is almost certain to block the move, throwing Chandrasekaran’s future as chairman into question. The previous AGM was adjourned earlier this year due to a lack of quorum, and Indian regulations require the meeting to be held by the end of December 2026, though no new date has been announced yet.
Nitin Potdar, a prominent Mumbai-based corporate lawyer, spoke to the BBC about the irregularities of the board’s move, noting that “The Nomination and Remuneration Committee of the Board of Tata Sons which reappointed him has no power to take this decision. They can only make a recommendation. Also, their decision flies against the governance code of the company that requires executives to step down from active roles at 65. These are serious lapses.” Chandrasekaran, who was granted a five-year extension, will not turn 65 until 2028.
As tensions between the board and Tata Trusts mounted, Tata Group equities swung wildly, first rallying then plummeting as investors reacted to competing hopes for stable leadership and growing uncertainty over the group’s direction, particularly amid several high-risk, currently loss-making investments led by Chandrasekaran in emerging sectors such as semiconductors and commercial aviation.
Beyond the leadership tussle, the most contentious long-term issue facing the group is the mandatory public listing, which former Tata Sons chief strategy officer Nirmalya Kumar says “now looks increasingly inevitable.”
The roots of the listing requirement stretch back to 2022, when the Reserve Bank of India (RBI), India’s central bank, classified Tata Sons as an “upper layer non-banking financial company” due to its systemic importance to India’s economy and its large-scale investment activities. This classification imposes a mandatory listing requirement on the conglomerate. Tata Sons attempted to avoid the classification by repaying outstanding debt and arguing that it does not borrow directly from public markets, but after holding the company’s appeal for more than two years, the RBI rejected the bid to reverse the classification earlier this month, pushing the holding company much closer to an initial public offering (IPO).
In a public statement, Tata Trusts reaffirmed its longstanding opposition to a listing, noting that “all available options and not a listing alone” are being explored, even as the trust’s own trustees are no longer unified in their stance on the issue. Potdar argues that the Indian regulator has no legal authority to force any private company to go public, and he expects Tata Trusts to mount a legal challenge to the RBI’s ruling. In a pre-emptive move, the RBI has already petitioned the courts to be the first party heard in any legal dispute related to the listing.
The listing debate has sharply divided corporate governance experts and long-time observers of the Tata Group. For decades, prominent Tata figures including the late Ratan Tata and veteran director N.A. Soonawala have argued strongly for keeping Tata Sons a private entity. A publicly traded Tata Sons would significantly erode the control and special governance rights that Tata Trusts currently holds over the group. The Trusts’ unique structure, as a charitable majority shareholder that uses dividend income from Tata’s commercial operations to fund hospitals, universities, and public research across India, would be fundamentally altered by a listing, opponents argue. Outside public shareholders would prioritize short-term financial returns over the Trusts’ social and long-term industrial goals, potentially undermining the group’s core character.
Potdar outlined this risk, noting “A new group of shareholders might say, ‘Don’t declare dividends; we need to reinvest this money in the companies.’ What happens then? The first casualty will be the hospitals they run.” Opponents of the IPO also warn that bringing in outside public investors would weaken the group’s ability to support and restructure distressed businesses within its portfolio, while also forcing the group to answer to quarterly earnings pressures that run counter to its long-term strategy.
Timing is another major point of criticism. Soonawala outlined these concerns in a recent op-ed for the *Times of India*, writing “The group currently faces large financial commitments from recently formed subsidiary companies, including Air India, investments in long gestation projects, and losses in newer ventures. The current situation in the case of Air India would be an acid test. All these would need to be disclosed fully in an IPO prospectus. Consolidated financial statements – reflecting subsidiary losses and borrowings – may not present an especially attractive picture to sophisticated investors, pointing to wrong timing for an IPO at the present time.”
Many experts also point out that globally, industrial foundations similar to Tata Trusts are increasingly protected as sources of patient long-term capital that can fund multi-year infrastructure, research, and social projects. By forcing Tata Sons to list, India is moving counter to this global trend.
Supporters of the listing, however, argue that greater transparency and accountability are long overdue for a conglomerate of Tata’s systemic importance to the Indian economy. Kumar notes “There should be tougher scrutiny of their capital-allocation decisions being so central to the Indian business ecosystem. Everybody wants complete control over their empire and the freedom to take capricious decisions, but that is not a good thing for the organisation.”
According to data from independent investment advisory firm InGovern, the combined market capitalization of already listed Tata Group companies such as Tata Motors and Tata Consultancy Services exceeds $260 billion, and the group’s decisions impact more than 17.7 million retail shareholders, pension funds, insurance firms, and mutual funds across India. InGovern’s recent report notes that Tata Sons “cannot reasonably remain outside the governance and transparency expectations increasingly associated with systemically important financial and industrial conglomerates.” The report also adds that existing shareholders of listed Tata companies are already indirectly affected by Tata Sons’ decisions, even though they hold no direct voting rights at the holding company level.
Furthermore, as the Tata Group pursues high-stakes global partnerships including manufacturing iPhones for Apple, collaborating with Nvidia on artificial intelligence development, and working with Boeing, Airbus, and Singapore Airlines on aerospace and aviation projects, InGovern argues that a “flexible and transparent capital structure [is] increasingly important” to support these growth plans.
Some industry analysts argue that a public listing may now be the only path to de-escalate the fractious conflict between the Tata Sons board and its majority shareholder, tensions that are already causing damage not just to the conglomerate but to India’s broader economy. Tata Trusts holds controlling economic interest and veto power over board appointments and major capital allocation decisions above a set threshold at Tata Sons. If the rift between the board and its largest shareholder continues, it will be nearly impossible for Tata Sons to move forward on critical projects of national importance, from turning around Air India to raising capital to pay out SP Group, a minority shareholder that urgently needs cash to avoid a potentially catastrophic default.
No matter the outcome of the listing and leadership disputes, industry experts agree that India’s most high-profile corporate asset is entering completely uncharted territory. As Kumar puts it, “a new twist” can be expected every week as this corporate drama unfolds.
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Grim discoveries of murdered women spark fear in South Africa
Two days after she helped identify the battered, partially burned remains of her 38-year-old niece Dineo Motapane, Nokwanda Matshikiza sat in the family’s home just outside Johannesburg, her voice breaking with raw, unrelenting grief. Her niece, a mother of two, was last seen alive the previous Sunday; her body was dumped in an open field in Ekurhuleni, a residential region east of South Africa’s largest city. For Matshikiza, the question hanging over her family’s unspeakable loss is not how to move forward – it is how many more women must die before the country acts.
“We are dying,” she told the BBC through sobs. “How many other bodies will be found before something happens? How do you explain to a child that their parent was brutally murdered, discarded like a piece of trash in a field? There is no peace in this. You never get over it.”
Dineo’s killing is far from an isolated tragedy. Her body was one of three recovered in Ekurhuleni this week alone, marking the ninth case of a murdered woman found in similar circumstances in the region since July. For Themba Kekana, the pain of losing his sister Itumeleng, a 32-year-old shopkeeper whose bruised body was found dumped on a bridge in July 17 days after she went missing, echoes that of Dineo’s family.
“We are devastated with grief,” Kekana said, his eyes wet with tears. “I look at my sister’s young daughter and I can’t take this pain away from her. No family should ever have to go through what we are facing.”
To date, only one arrest has been made in connection with the string of deaths, taken into custody two days after the first body was discovered on July 15. No suspects have been detained in the killings of Itumeleng, Dineo, or the other six victims. Most of the women were in their 20s or 30s, and all suffered extreme brutality before their deaths. South African police have not confirmed whether they are hunting a serial killer, noting the cases may be unconnected. Regardless of links between the crimes, the grim discovery spree has reignited national fury over South Africa’s long-standing crisis of gender-based violence, a problem that puts the country among those with the highest femicide rates globally.
Official quarterly crime statistics from South African police confirm the staggering scale of the nation’s murder crisis: between April and June of this year, 5,427 people were murdered across the country. While police data does not break down killings by gender, new figures from South Africa’s Human Rights Commission show 569 women were killed in that same three-month period – an average of six women every day – with another 1,052 surviving murder attempts.
The outcry comes less than a year after the South African government formally declared gender-based violence a national disaster, a step taken in November last year following mass nationwide protests that culminated in a “Women’s Shut Down” march during the country’s hosting of the G20 summit. At the time, Social Development Minister Nokuzola Sisisi Tolashe said classifying the crisis as a national disaster would enable the government to deploy more resources to tackle the violence. But activists say far more action is needed.
Amnesty International has led renewed calls this week for the South African government to formally recognize femicide – the gender-motivated killing of women – as a distinct criminal offense, a change already adopted in 33 countries across the globe, including two African nations, Gabon and Morocco.
“Every day that femicide remains unrecognised as a crime is a failure to confront the targeted killing of women,” said Shenilla Mohamed, Amnesty International’s country director for South Africa. “It is time to call it what it is: Femicide. Femicide is a gender-motivated crime. It is the killing of a woman because she is a woman. Recognizing it as a separate crime would force the state to confront its failure to protect women and girls. You cannot fix a problem you refuse to track properly.”
South African President Cyril Ramaphosa responded to the Ekurhuleni killings this week, promising that authorities would leave “no stone unturned” in their investigations. “As a nation, we must stand up for the rights, safety and dignity of women and girls,” he said.
But gender justice advocates say the current crisis is rooted in deep, historical inequities that have never been addressed. Lebogang Ramofoko, a gender and social justice advocate, argues that the dehumanization of black women stretches back through the legacies of colonialism and apartheid, systems of state violence that created intergenerational cycles of harm that have never been broken.
“The bodies of black women have been treated as disposable in this country for generations, from colonisation through to apartheid,” Ramofoko told the BBC. “What we see happening to women today is testimony to these unaddressed traumas of violence. This is not to say black men are inherently violent, but for decades state violence was targeted at black communities, and black women were too often the targets that violence was taken out on. That cycle has never been broken.”
For residents of Ekurhuleni, where nine bodies have been found in three months, fear has become a constant, daily reality. In Kempton Park, the Ekurhuleni district where five of the nine bodies were discovered, activists with the local Girl2Woman Foundation have held repeated protests to demand action.
“We are grieved, we are scared,” said Lumka Maqhubela, a member of the organization. “If the police cannot protect us any more, the government has to step in and do something. We keep being told to be more vigilant, but what more can we do? We are not safe anywhere – not in our homes, not on our streets. This has to stop.”
Thulisile Sibande, a 32-year-old Ekurhuleni resident, described the constant trauma of living in the area. “When I go to a shop, I have to look over my shoulder constantly,” she said. “I’m shocked and so scared, it’s left me traumatized.”
Thembi Mabena, a 60-year-old neighborhood resident who knew Dineo Motapane, says the vibrant, kind woman she remembers who laughed with everyone on her street would still be alive if the state had done more to protect women. “Now I’m worried too,” Mabena said. “I know so many young girls who are afraid to walk to the corner shop alone. There is no safety here, not even for me, an older woman.”
For 20-year-old Lerato Mzizi, the message is simple: In South Africa today, women are no longer safe. As grieving families prepare to bury their loved ones and activists keep up their demands for change, the nation waits to see whether the latest wave of killings will finally force the government to deliver on its promise to end the crisis.
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A four-minute warning isn’t enough: Russia’s new relentless missile tactics exhaust Kyiv residents
For nearly three years after Russia launched its full-scale invasion of Ukraine, 27-year-old Daria navigated the constant threat of shelling in her Kyiv apartment with quiet resolve. Even during the heaviest nighttime bombardment campaigns, she could sleep through distant explosions, following the common Ukrainian safety guideline of the “two-wall rule” that keeps civilians separated from potential incoming fire by two structural barriers.
This summer, however, everything changed. After months of ramping up the frequency and deadliness of strikes targeting the Ukrainian capital, the unrelenting pressure of new Russian tactics has pushed even the most resilient residents to reconsider their decision to stay in the city.
Official data underscores the severity of the escalated campaign: in the first 10 days of July alone, Russian forces launched dozens of ballistic missiles across three major waves of attacks, killing nearly 60 civilians, according to government figures. Additional large-scale strikes hit the capital through August and September. A BBC Verify analysis of official data confirms Kyiv is now facing more daily air raid alerts than at any point since the 2022 full-scale invasion began.
The turning point for Daria came during a May overnight attack, when she and her boyfriend huddled in the corridor of their ninth-floor apartment watching a boxing match as explosions shook the building, slamming windows open and shut with the force of blast waves. When the match ended, there was nothing left to distract her from the fear she had been suppressing. “That’s when I realised I was really scared,” she recalled.
At first, she planned to simply use a nearby bomb shelter during future attacks. But that plan fell apart in June, after a young mother was killed while running to a Kyiv shelter during an alert. Days later, Daria moved permanently to her family’s country home 30 kilometers outside the capital in Romankiv. She still commutes four hours round-trip daily to her defense-sector job in Kyiv, but has spent only one night in the city since leaving.
Daria’s experience is far from unique. Many Kyiv residents who had grown accustomed to the rhythm of occasional drone and missile strikes told the BBC the renewed intensity of attacks has forced them to completely rearrange their daily routines.
The biggest shift has come from a change in Russian military tactics. Previously, Ukraine’s air defense network and military intelligence could detect most large-scale attacks in advance, giving residents time to reach shelters, leave the city, or take other precautions. That changed this summer: Russia now relies far less on easily detectable aircraft and far more on high-speed ballistic missiles, which give almost no advance warning. In many recent attacks, air raid alerts have sounded only minutes before impact, or even at the same time as the first explosions.
Daria notes that even though her nearest shelter is visible from her still-rented Kyiv apartment, it takes 10 minutes to reach on foot. During a ballistic missile attack, she might have four minutes of warning or less. That narrow window made leaving the only viable option. A trip abroad earlier this summer, where she saw civilians living normal, unthreatened lives, reinforced her decision.
For many elderly and disabled residents, however, leaving Kyiv is not a choice. Sixty-two-year-old Olha Vlasova lives in a seventh-floor Kyiv apartment with her 98-year-old mother, Nadia Tsybina, who is confined to bed. Despite her advanced age, Nadia stays closely engaged with global and local news, following everything from former U.S. President Donald Trump’s policy positions to anti-corruption protests in Kyiv, and has even learned to distinguish between intercepted missiles and those that hit their target by the sound of explosions.
This summer, she says she has heard far fewer interceptions, a trend that has left her frustrated. “It’s upsetting when there’s nothing to shoot them down with,” she said. “I can hear them firing with whatever they’ve got, rifles, machine guns.”
Because Nadia cannot travel to a community shelter during attacks, Olha has adapted their apartment for safety: the moment an air raid siren sounds, she covers her mother with a protective blanket, pushes a mattress against the window to block flying glass, and shelters in a wardrobe that puts two walls between her and the outside. Nadia keeps a pillow over her face for extra protection, while Olha stays awake all night monitoring news updates.
“They come in, they bomb us,” Nadia described the relentless cycle. “You haven’t even had time to fall asleep, and there’s another alert. They come again, they shoot them down again. And it goes on all night. People don’t sleep, and then they walk around like zombies.”
The surge in daytime attacks has disrupted every part of public life in Kyiv, from education to transportation to commerce. When the new academic year began in early September, dozens of air raid alerts disrupted the first week of classes, forcing many children to stay home and others to spend entire school days in school basements. Kyiv Mayor Vitali Klitschko confirmed two children were injured in strikes on August 31, and a September 17 attack left 20 people injured, including two children aged 10 and 12.
When sirens sound, commercial activity comes to a halt: shopping centers close, and above-ground metro stations suspend service, cutting off public transit links between Kyiv’s Left and Right Banks across the Dnieper River for hours at a time. City officials have introduced new metro operating protocols during alerts to ease the disruption, but the impact on daily life remains severe.
For Olha, the transit disruptions mean she rarely sees her eight-year-old granddaughter, who lives on the opposite side of the river. If her granddaughter visits, there is no guarantee she will be able to get home once services are suspended, and the alternative taxi rides cost as much as 1,000 Ukrainian hryvnias – equal to $22, or roughly one-eighth of Ukraine’s monthly minimum wage.
Olha shares the Ukrainian government’s frustration with the slow pace of additional air defense support from Western allies. Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy has repeatedly appealed to partner nations for more interceptor missiles and air defense systems, a call Olha echoes with blunt clarity. “They wait, thinking: ‘What if we get attacked?’” she said of Western backers. “It’s like refusing to give medicine to a cancer patient because you’re saying, ‘What if I get sick one day?’ Well, maybe you won’t. Give it away before it expires.”
In another neighborhood, 37-year-old mother of two Natalia Bushkovska spends every night preparing for three possible emergency scenarios. Plan A is to set up bedding in the hallway, behind two interior walls; Plan B is to move to the building’s shared common corridor; Plan C is to evacuate to the building’s basement. Even in the basement, she does not feel fully safe.
“I keep a backpack with essential items,” she explained. “There’s a tourniquet for severe bleeding. I also keep a whistle, just in case. If the worst happens, rescuers will be able to find us under the rubble.” Her nine-year-old daughter carries her own emergency bag, stocked with toys, lip balm, and a personal tourniquet – both of her children have already completed first-aid training to use the equipment.
Natalia says the constant cycle of alerts and explosions is emotionally and physically draining. While her 12-year-old son can often sleep through attacks, she and her daughter wake up to every siren. “Because of the attacks, I don’t get enough sleep,” she said. “Now, in the fifth year of the war, I find it increasingly difficult to bounce back after nights like these. The growing intensity of the strikes is taking a psychological toll across the whole city. People are exhausted. They don’t have enough time to recover.”
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US and Denmark reach deal over Greenland after Trump annexation threats
After months of high-stakes diplomatic friction sparked by former President Donald Trump’s aggressive threats to forcibly annex the resource-rich Arctic territory of Greenland, the United States and Denmark have formally announced a new security agreement that reshape strategic dynamics across the North Atlantic and Arctic regions.
Trump first began floating attempts to purchase or seize Greenland more than a year ago, framing the move as a critical national security priority. He argued that the island’s strategic geographic position made it indispensable for defending North America, while its vast untapped reserves of rare earth minerals – materials critical to manufacturing modern technologies from electric vehicles to smartphones – represented an unmatched economic opportunity. The president’s openly stated willingness to use military force to take control of the territory sparked widespread condemnation from Denmark, fellow NATO allies, and the international community, creating an unprecedented rift in transatlantic relations.
Now, the newly announced deal appears to deliver many of the strategic concessions Trump sought, without formal annexation. In a post on his Truth Social platform, Trump framed the agreement as a sweeping victory for the U.S., saying it grants America “permanent control over security, and all other needs” in Greenland at “no cost to the United States”. The core terms of the deal, as outlined by an unnamed senior U.S. State Department official who spoke on condition of anonymity, include sweeping new security authority for the U.S.: Washington gains unilateral power to construct additional military infrastructure across Greenland without requiring prior approval from either Denmark or the Greenlandic government, enshrines permanent access, basing, and overflight rights for U.S. forces, and includes a provision that the agreement will remain in force even if Greenland achieves full independence from Denmark in the future.
Most notably, the deal bars non-NATO countries, specifically named U.S. adversaries Russia and China, from establishing any military presence in Greenland or making investments in the territory’s sensitive strategic sectors without explicit written approval from the U.S. The official noted that prior to the agreement, there was no formal framework to screen foreign investments in Greenland’s sensitive industries, allowing adversaries to expand their economic and political influence in the region unimpeded.
Danish Prime Minister Mette Frederiksen has struck a more measured tone in public comments, confirming that the agreement will be formally signed next week during the United Nations General Assembly in New York. She emphasized that the deal strengthens collective security across the Arctic and North Atlantic while explicitly upholding the sovereignty of the Kingdom of Denmark and the right of Greenlandic people to self-determination. Frederiksen added that the agreement still must undergo mandatory parliamentary review in Denmark before it can enter into force. Jens-Frederik Nielsen, chairman of the Greenland Government, also praised the deal, noting that it recognizes Greenland’s core interests and solidifies its role in international security cooperation, calling the agreement beneficial to all three parties.
U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio echoed Trump’s positive framing, describing the deal as a historic breakthrough and a “huge win for the United States and the American people” that permanently resolves long-standing U.S. national security concerns in the region. For Trump, the agreement also advances a separate core priority: his proposed Golden Dome missile defense system, designed to shield the U.S. from intercontinental ballistic missile attacks from Russia and China, which he has identified Greenland as a critical location for.
Notably, the full text of the agreement has not been released to the public, and key questions remain about how the new deal differs from the longstanding 1951 bilateral security agreement between the U.S. and Denmark. That existing deal already grants the U.S. broad authority to deploy unlimited numbers of troops to Greenland, where Washington already maintains the Pituffik Space Base with a permanent garrison of more than 100 U.S. military personnel on the territory’s northwestern tip. The BBC has requested comment from both the Danish Embassy in Washington and the White House, with no formal response provided yet to clarify the full scope of the new agreement.
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Trump says son has paid back Putin ally for partly funding wedding festivities
Fresh scrutiny has emerged over links between former President Donald Trump’s family and a Kremlin-aligned Russian oligarch, after an investigative report revealed that Umar Kremlev, a close ally of Russian President Vladimir Putin, partially covered the cost of Donald Trump Jr.’s post-wedding festivities held on a private Bahamian island.
The probe, published by ProPublica, found Kremlev contributed hundreds of thousands of dollars to fund two nights of the three-day celebration, which was held after Donald Trump Jr. wed his partner. The couple later confirmed Kremlev’s financial contribution was a gift, though they have stated the sum was eventually repaid.
During a conversation with reporters in the Oval Office, Donald Trump defended the arrangement, arguing that hosting and funding wedding celebrations for friends is a widespread, entirely permissible practice. When questioned about Kremlev’s involvement, the sitting president asserted that his son had fully repaid the oligarch, but he offered no details to back up that claim. To date, the BBC has not independently verified that repayment occurred, and reporters have reached out to Donald Trump Jr. for additional clarification on the matter.
Legally, the scenario raises no explicit violations: as a private citizen, Donald Trump Jr. faces no legal bar to accepting gifts from foreign nationals. Even so, independent ethics oversight organizations have warned that the acceptance of such a high-value gift from an individual deeply connected to the Russian head of state creates the clear appearance of a conflict of interest, regardless of Donald Trump Jr.’s lack of formal position in the U.S. government.
This latest revelation reignites long-running questions about ties between Donald Trump and Russian officials that first surfaced during his 2016 presidential campaign. Those concerns ultimately spawned a special counsel investigation, which centered in part on a previously undisclosed meeting between Donald Trump Jr. and a Russian intelligence operative at Trump Tower in New York.
Beyond his close connections to the Kremlin, Kremlev leads the International Boxing Association (IBA), an organization that draws significant funding from Gazprom, Russia’s state-owned energy giant. The International Olympic Committee suspended the IBA several years ago, with Kremlev’s failure to fully disclose the organization’s ties to the Russian state energy firm cited as a core reason for the action. ProPublica also notes that Kremlev was part of the official delegation that accompanied Putin on a state visit to China in May, and has been awarded the Order of Friendship, one of Russia’s highest state honors, by Putin himself.
Spokespeople for both Kremlev and Donald Trump Jr. have framed the pair’s connection as a purely personal friendship, rather than a professional or political one. Donald Trump Jr.’s representative told ProPublica the two have no ongoing business ties, while a spokesperson for Kremlev confirmed that the pair have maintained a friendly relationship since meeting several years ago. The BBC has reached out to Kremlev’s representatives for additional comment on the investigation’s findings.
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Trump signs sweeping Russia sanctions bill
In a major escalation of Western pressure on Moscow over its ongoing invasion of Ukraine, U.S. President Donald Trump has signed into law a sweeping new sanctions package designed to cripple Russia’s core energy revenue stream by targeting the world’s largest importers of Russian crude oil and natural gas.
The legislation, which cleared the U.S. House of Representatives earlier this month, grants the White House broad authority to impose tariffs as high as 100% on the top five buyers of Russian oil and gas — a policy that hits the two largest importers, China and India, the hardest. At President Trump’s request, the scope of the sanctions was expanded to also cover Iran’s energy and weapons industries, expanding the reach of the bill beyond its original focus on Russia.
Formalized as the Lindsey O. Graham Sanctioning Russia and Iran Act of 2026, the 48-piece legislation is named in honor of the late longtime Republican senator, who was one of the most vocal and steadfast supporters of Ukraine in Washington before his unexpected death in July. The bill carves out narrow exceptions for nations that source less than 15% of their natural gas from Russia and are actively taking steps to reduce their reliance on Russian energy supplies.
Beyond targeting energy trade, the legislation codifies new sanctions against Russian President Vladimir Putin, top members of his cabinet and government leadership, major Russian financial institutions, and the so-called “shadow fleet” of oil tankers Moscow has deployed to evade existing international sanctions on its energy exports.
New York Democratic Senator Richard Blumenthal previously framed the legislation as aggressive, far-reaching measures that would effectively cripple the revenue stream funding Putin’s military campaign in Ukraine. “This is scorching sanctions that will throttle Putin’s war machine,” Blumenthal said of the bill ahead of its final passage.
Recent trade data compiled by the Centre for Research on Energy and Clean Air (CREA) underscores the potential impact of the new measures: between December 2022 and August 2026, China absorbed 50% of all Russian crude oil exports, while India took in an additional 37%. Turkey and the European Union each accounted for 5% of exports over that period, though EU imports of Russian energy have dropped steadily since the 2022 invasion.
Graham, a 71-year-old South Carolina Republican, died on July 11 from an aortic dissection linked to cardiovascular disease, just days after returning from an official trip to Kyiv. At the time of his passing, President Trump praised the senator, saying “He died doing the work he was born to do.” For years before his death, Graham had pushed successive U.S. administrations to ramp up punitive measures against Russia, and remained one of Ukraine’s most unwavering allies on Capitol Hill even as congressional Republicans grew increasingly divided over the scale of U.S. military and financial aid to Kyiv.
Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy has publicly voiced strong support for the legislation, praising the House’s passage earlier this month. In a post to his official Telegram channel on September 17, Zelenskyy noted the symbolic timing of the House vote, which passed the same night Russia launched a large-scale missile and drone attack across Ukrainian territory. “It is symbolic that the US House of Representatives’ passage of Lindsey Graham’s sanctions bill took place on the night of yet another Russian attack on Ukraine involving ballistic missiles, other missiles, and drones,” he wrote.
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When a beloved tree began withering away, locals suspected a killer in their midst
Nestled between rolling mountains just a short distance from Seoul’s bustling city center, the quiet residential neighborhood of Buam-dong has long been a haven for visitors and locals alike. Restricted urban development, a result of its proximity to the Blue House presidential residence, has preserved the area’s quaint, charming character, dotted with independent art galleries, cozy neighborhood cafes, and pockets of lush, mature greenery. For more than a century, one ginkgo tree standing sentinel along a residential sidewalk has stood as a unifying, beloved landmark for the Buam-dong community — a tree locals have affectionately called “Grandpa Ginkgo.”
Unlike most ginkgos in Seoul that grow tucked away in private gardens or wild forested areas, this hardy, centuries-old tree belongs to everyone in the neighborhood. Jung, a local resident who requested anonymity (and is referred to here by a pseudonym) who moved to Buam-dong just four years ago, formed an immediate, deep bond with the tree. “I pass this tree whenever I come home. I would say, ‘Grandpa, I’m home.’ Or ‘Grandpa, I’m heading out now,’” she explained. For 74-year-old lifelong resident Park Jeon-hee, the ginkgo is his oldest friend. Even 10-year-old Kim On, who walks past the tree every school day, feels its loss acutely: “It has stood since before I was born. Thinking it might fall down makes me sad.”
It was Jung who first noticed something was terribly wrong in the summer of 2026, when Seoul’s normally lush summer foliage turned the city deep green. While other trees thrived under the humid skies, “Grandpa Ginkgo” was visibly ailing. Healthy green fan-shaped leaves were dropping to the ground en masse, an abnormality that should not occur during peak growing season. Within weeks, the base of the tree was blanketed in a rotting carpet of fallen leaves, and its branches began to thin and turn brown.
Jung’s initial quiet curiosity quickly bloomed into urgent concern, and she rallied neighbors who had also noticed the tree’s decline to form an informal group of amateur investigators to uncover what was ailing their hardy community landmark. The mystery captured national attention across South Korea, making front-page national headlines — a level of scrutiny that left Jung uncomfortable, prompting her request for anonymity. She compares the experience to watching a beloved family member fade: “Imagine a grandfather who silently embraces you every day, listens to you, and has always been strong and full of life. Suddenly, he begins to die. How heartbreaking would that be?”
As the community dug into the mystery, they spotted 10 white plastic funnels protruding from the soil just behind the tree’s trunk. Jung initially assumed the devices were installed to deliver nutrients to the tree, but soon began to suspect foul play. The group obtained access to nearby home security camera footage, which captured two men in white gloves crouching at the tree’s base with a power drill on an April morning. Though the footage did not definitively show the men installing the funnels, it aligned with a detail local officials had previously shared: the Whanki Museum, located steps from the ginkgo’s trunk, had previously requested permission from local landowners to remove the tree entirely. The museum claimed the ginkgo’s expanding roots were damaging its outer brick perimeter wall.
Arborists called in to inspect the tree echoed the community’s worst fears: the funnels were almost certainly being used to inject herbicide to slowly kill the 100-year-old tree, and residents placed the blame squarely on the Whanki Museum. A group of residents accompanied by police confronted museum staff shortly after the discovery, and locals allege a museum employee essentially confirmed the institution’s involvement. The museum has never issued a public confirmation or denial of the herbicide claims, and declined repeated requests for comment from the BBC. In a brief May statement, the museum said its outer wall was collapsing due to the ginkgo’s roots, that it had contacted more than 40 local property owners to request a solution, and that after receiving no responses, its staff “attempted to resolve the situation” — offering no further details on what actions were taken. Local council officials, however, told the BBC a 2025 inspection found “no meaningful connection” between the ginkgo’s roots and the claimed wall damage, adding that any legitimate structural issue would have prompted official intervention and public notification.
The irony of the accusation is not lost on angry local residents, as the Whanki Museum was founded in 1992 to honor the legacy of Kim Whanki, one of South Korea’s most celebrated pioneering abstract artists, often called the “Picasso of Korea.” The museum’s architect designed the space to harmonize with the natural landscape that was central to Kim’s work, and Kim himself wrote nature-focused essays under the pen name Su-wha, which translates to “conversation with trees.” “Treating life that way is ignorance and there was never any apology,” Jung said.
Residents have adopted Kim’s pen name for their ailing tree, and partnered with local environmental activists to launch a national petition calling for the creation of an official urban tree guardian program to protect landmark community trees. Activist Choi Jin-woo, who joined the campaign, said he initially could not believe the allegations: “When I first heard that a tree next to a museum had been poisoned with herbicide and was dying, I simply couldn’t believe it. But when I saw the ginkgo shrivelling, I realised something this horrific could actually happen in our society.” Residents have filed a formal police complaint against the museum’s director, and authorities confirm an investigation is ongoing, though they have declined to release further details. They are demanding the museum reveal what substance was injected into the tree so arborists can begin targeted treatment to save it.
Despite the grim prognosis — one arborist concluded the tree is 90% dead — the fight to save “Grandpa Ginkgo” has yielded an unexpected silver lining: it has united the Buam-dong community in a way no other event has. As Jung spent days organizing support and gathering information, neighbors left home-cooked meals on her doorstep, and she in turn shared homegrown vegetable soup with neighbors she had never met before. For Jung herself, who had struggled with mobility issues and depression after a serious illness last winter, the campaign pulled her back into community life: “I felt so depressed and hopeless but those feelings disappeared. I entered a tree-like state. The tree helped bring me back out into life again. Ironically, it was because the tree became sick.”
For weeks, roughly 20 residents gathered daily at the tree’s base to pray for its recovery: some read aloud Kim Whanki’s own essays about nature, a local shaman led a traditional healing ritual, and the group joined hands for an “elm dance,” a ceremonial practice some ecological activists believe promotes healing for ailing trees. Notes of support and well wishes are tied to the ginkgo’s trunk, fluttering in the mountain breeze.
As autumn settles over Seoul, turning the city’s deciduous trees into vibrant shades of gold and yellow, Buam-dong’s most famous tree still stands with mostly crispy, brown, bare branches. Jung says the tree’s fate is now “in the hands of heaven,” and all the community can do is stay by its side and hope for a miracle. For Buam-dong, the tree is far more than just greenery along a sidewalk: it is a centurylong companion, a community landmark, and an irreplaceable part of the neighborhood’s identity. Residents cannot imagine an autumn without pausing to admire “Grandpa Ginkgo” in his full, golden, feathery glory — and they are not ready to let him go.
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Sahel instability pushes Algeria to rethink its long-standing non‑intervention doctrine
On August 30, following an official request from Niger’s transitional authorities and direct orders from Algerian President Abdelmadjid Tebboune, Algiers made an unprecedented public announcement: it had deployed four Su-30 fighter jets, one refueling aircraft, and one military transport plane to Niger, to support its southern neighbor in countering rising internal instability.
This deployment came just one day after a foiled mutiny against the government led by General Abdourahamane Tiani, who seized power via a military coup in July 2023. Over August 28 and 29, renegade soldiers attacked multiple key sites across Niamey, Niger’s capital, including the presidential palace, Diori-Hamani International Airport, and Military Base 101, sending tensions surging across the already volatile Sahel nation.
A senior anonymous researcher from The Sentry, a U.S.-based non-profit investigative and policy organization, explained that the mutineers’ anger stems from deep-rooted institutional and military inequities within Niger’s armed forces. Rank-and-file soldiers have suffered repeated heavy casualties in counter-insurgency operations across the country’s rural regions, while Tiani’s loyal Presidential Guard remains concentrated in the capital, equipped with superior hardware and receiving far better benefits and treatment. The researcher added that a deadly clash that killed approximately 18 soldiers near the city of Dosso just one week before the mutiny was the immediate trigger for the uprising, a tragedy that is part of a years-long pattern of devastating insurgent attacks on Niger’s military. In 2019 alone, Islamic State in the Greater Sahara claimed two major attacks that killed 160 Nigerian soldiers near the Malian border: 71 at the Inates military base in December, and 89 more at the Chinagodrar outpost just one month later. A suicide attack claimed by the group also struck central Niamey in January this year, underscoring the persistent threat Tiani faces from both militant groups and internal military discontent.
For Algeria, which shares a 950-kilometer porous border with Niger, this spiraling instability has forced a long-overdue reckoning: can Algiers continue to stand on the sidelines as chaos, armed insurgency, human trafficking networks, and political fragmentation take hold along its southern frontier, and across the broader Sahel region?
Regional analysts broadly view Algeria’s open deployment of military assets to Niger as a potential turning point in the country’s foreign policy, breaking with a strict doctrine of non-intervention in the internal affairs of other states that has been a cornerstone of Algiers’ approach to global affairs since it won independence from France in 1962.
“Algeria can no longer protect its own national security and core interests just by guarding its own borders. It has to secure its strategic depth,” explained Riccardo Fabiani, North Africa Project Director at the International Crisis Group. What makes this move particularly notable is that Algiers has chosen to openly communicate the operation to the public, a sharp departure from its past preference for quiet diplomacy. Algeria’s official press agency ran full coverage of the deployment, video footage of Algerian aircraft arriving in Niger circulated publicly, and a joint press conference was held between Nigerien officials and the Algerian military delegation led by Major General Rachid Cheblaoui.
Fabiani noted that this deployment signals the emergence of a new, far more pragmatic foreign policy for Algeria, one where the country is prepared to take on direct security and military roles in the region, rather than relying exclusively on diplomatic engagement to advance its goals in a rapidly shifting regional landscape. This public show of force also serves a second key purpose: it asserts Algeria’s regional influence amid growing competition from outside and regional powers seeking to expand their footprint in the Sahel.
Fabiani added that Algeria has deep historical and cultural ties with Niger, and a core strategic interest in protecting the sovereignty of Sahel nations against interference from third parties such as Morocco, Israel, and the United Arab Emirates. “Algeria does not want any foreign interference, official or unofficial, in Niger’s political and security affairs,” he said. In fact, Algiers’ suspicion of foreign involvement in the region escalated to a formal break in diplomatic relations with Abu Dhabi on September 10, after months of growing tensions; Algeria accuses the UAE of indirectly funding armed separatist groups in the Sahel, including through multimillion-dollar ransom payments for released hostages.
The Sahel has in recent years become a hotspot for competing foreign interests: Morocco has deepened security and economic cooperation with Niger since the 2023 coup, Turkey supplies combat drones to the Nigerien military, Italy maintains a deployment of over 300 soldiers at Military Base 101 in Niamey, and Russia maintains a presence through the Africa Corps paramilitary group, which local reports say assisted in foiling the late August mutiny.
Beyond security and geopolitical competition, the partnership between Algiers and Niamey carries major economic stakes, particularly in the energy sector. The Senty senior researcher explained that the two countries have rebuilt cooperation around two major projects: the Bilma oil block in northeastern Niger, and the 4,100-kilometer Trans-Saharan Gas Pipeline, which plans to transport natural gas from Nigeria through Niger to export markets via Algeria’s Mediterranean coast. Morocco has backed a competing 5,600-kilometer pipeline project running from Nigeria along the Atlantic coast to Morocco, arguing that persistent instability in Niger makes the trans-Saharan route unfeasible. With construction of Algeria’s section of the Trans-Saharan pipeline already kicking off in the Adrar region in June, maintaining a stable pro-Algeria government in Niamey serves both security and economic goals for Algiers.
Mourad Preure, an Algerian energy and strategy consultant, argues that military support is just one piece of a broader, development-focused Algerian strategy to stabilize Niger. “Algeria already supports Niger’s electricity sector, providing small-scale power plants. The Trans-Saharan Gas Pipeline will generate transit fees for Niger, creating a steady source of revenue and affordable energy for the country,” Preure said. “Algeria is also building a trans-Saharan road and rail corridor to enable the transit of goods and people, advancing deeper regional integration.”
The core question now is whether this military deployment marks a permanent break with Algeria’s 60-year tradition of non-interventionism. It is true that Algeria deployed military forces as part of an Arab coalition supporting Egypt and Syria during the 1967 and 1973 Arab-Israeli wars, but these were widely viewed as exceptional cases, rooted in core pan-Arab interests, rather than a shift in doctrine. Non-interventionism, rooted in Algeria’s post-independence non-alignment stance, remained a central principle of its foreign policy even after those conflicts. The principle was never formally codified in the constitution, creating inherent legal ambiguity, but in practice, Algiers long favored quiet diplomacy and mediation over overt military engagement – the 2015 Algiers Peace Accord between Mali’s government and northern Tuareg rebel groups is a key example of this approach.
A turning point began to emerge in 2020, one year into Tebboune’s presidency, when the government passed a sweeping constitutional revision, born out of the 2019 Hirak pro-democracy movement that toppled long-time leader Abdelaziz Bouteflika. Article 91 of the revised constitution grants the president the authority to deploy Algerian military forces abroad, contingent on approval by a two-thirds majority vote in both chambers of parliament. Article 32 also permits Algerian participation in United Nations, African Union, and Arab League peacekeeping operations, and rules out offensive war that would undermine the sovereignty of other states. At the time of the revision, the amendment sparked significant pushback from civil society and Hirak activists, who opposed any potential deployment of Algerian troops to foreign conflicts.
Notably, the current deployment to Niger – which for now only includes technical personnel to operate the deployed aircraft, no frontline combat troops – has not received parliamentary approval. Fabiani argues that from Algiers’ perspective, this deployment does not qualify as a long-term combat presence that would require legislative sign-off. “Direct combat deployment would be politically problematic, both domestically and regionally. But deploying equipment and supporting personnel falls outside that framework,” he explained. This is not Algiers’ first recent military support to Niamey: the country donated four helicopters and additional military equipment to Niger in early August, before the late August mutiny. What is new is the open, public acknowledgment of the deployment, designed to send a clear political as well as military signal to regional and global actors.
Whether this operation is an isolated case or the first sign of a deeper, permanent shift in Algeria’s security doctrine remains unclear. No analysts contacted for the original reporting were willing to make definitive predictions, noting that everything depends on how the Sahel’s security situation evolves in the coming months. Preure emphasized that Algeria’s role remains limited to responding to requests from neighboring states: “When Algeria is asked, it provides assistance as a good neighbor, but it is not Algeria’s role to take on responsibility for the national defense and security of other states.”
The Sentry researcher similarly noted that any future Algerian engagement across the Sahel will be decided on a case-by-case basis, rather than representing a blanket policy shift. Neighboring Mali, where Algiers has recently repaired relations after years of diplomatic tension over the Tuareg insurgency, offers a clear example: even with rapprochement, a similar military deployment to Mali is not on the table in the near term. “Relations between Algeria and Niger are far less complicated, because the Tuareg issue that has long poisoned Algeria-Mali ties does not carry the same weight in Algiers’ relationship with Niamey,” the researcher explained. That allows Algeria to deploy aircraft and provide military support without being drawn into the complex, sensitive internal conflicts that have complicated its engagement with Mali.
Still, faced with continued deterioration of security across the Sahel, Algiers has clearly concluded that it can no longer rely solely on border defense to protect its national interests. Instead, it must now proactively shape its strategic environment. As Africa’s second largest military power by size and its largest defense spender, a more proactive Algerian role in the Sahel could fundamentally reshape the region’s security dynamics for years to come.