Global Pulse

作者： admin

  • Dressing visitors in ancient China’s imperial splendor is booming in Beijing

    Dressing visitors in ancient China’s imperial splendor is booming in Beijing

    Nestled in the blocks surrounding Beijing’s Forbidden City — the centuries-old imperial residence that housed China’s final two imperial dynasties, the Ming and Qing — a fast-growing niche creative industry is thriving, driven by young Chinese people’s surging enthusiasm for reviving and experiencing traditional Chinese culture. At the heart of this trend are makeup artists like Chen Jiao, whose daily work involves turning ordinary visitors into elegant imperial figures straight out of ancient Chinese history.

    Every day, streams of tourists flood into these nearby costume studios, eager to step into the ornate robes embroidered with intricate phoenix patterns, adorn themselves with jade pendants, pearl accessories and gilded fingernail guards that once were exclusive to noblewomen in imperial courts. After artists carefully apply traditional-style makeup and sculpt elaborate hairstyles decorated with flowing tassels and delicate hairpins, visitors head out to the historic walls and moat encircling the Forbidden City to capture photos and short videos for their social media feeds. Blending the charm of imperial-era aesthetics with modern lifestyle touches, many even pair their historic costumes with casual sneakers and trendy sunglasses while sipping popular bubble tea, creating a unique fusion of old and new.

    The immersive experience comes at an average price of 300 yuan, equivalent to roughly $45, though high-end customized packages can cost more than 1,000 yuan, or over $150. For makeup artists like Chen, business rarely slows down. She notes that peak seasons — public holidays and weekends — bring nonstop crowds, and on a recent busy working day, she started her shift as early as 6 a.m. and completed styling for more than 20 young women in a single day. “There is no real off-season for us, only a short break when the Forbidden City itself is closed,” Chen explained.

    This booming trend of immersive traditional costume experience has taken hold among young Chinese people over recent years, with Beijing’s scene centered heavily on Ming and Qing dynasty aesthetics, drawn directly from the adjacent Forbidden City that anchors the experience. To understand the historical context: the Ming Dynasty, which ruled China for more than 270 years until 1644, oversaw the construction of the Forbidden City and the reinforcement of the Great Wall. The Qing Dynasty, established by China’s Manchu ethnic group, collapsed in 1912, bringing an end to more than 2,000 years of imperial rule across the country.

    For young travelers, the experience is more than just a photoshoot — it is a personal way to connect with Chinese history and cultural heritage. Chen Xiao, a college student from China’s eastern Shandong Province, traveled through the night to Beijing during this year’s Qingming Festival holiday to participate, wearing a soft pink costume matching that of a *Gege*, or Qing dynasty princess. “If you are standing on the grounds where history actually happened, you should wear clothing that fits the setting,” she said, adding that her interest in the trend grew out of her love for popular Chinese historical costume dramas that have dominated streaming platforms in recent years. “I’ve watched so many of these shows, they’ve definitely shaped my interest. Lately, I’ve been really fascinated by Qing dynasty history,” she added.

    Another visitor, Liu Ruitong, a college student from neighboring Hebei Province, chose a solemn black Ming-style imperial outfit for her experience. “This whole styling feels so elegant and dignified, especially the color palette,” she explained. “I picked black because it complements the architecture of the Forbidden City and all the traditional Chinese scenery here so well.”

    The explosive growth of the industry is visible in the neighborhood where Chen Jiao’s studio is located. Local media reports show that back around 2020, only a handful of these costume styling studios operated in the area. Today, that number has surged to more than 100.

    Industry observers and cultural enthusiasts say the trend reflects a broader shift among young Chinese people. Cai Zehong, founder of Hanfu Beijing — one of China’s earliest non-profit groups established by enthusiasts to promote traditional culture and clothing of the majority Han ethnicity — notes that young generations have increasingly recognized the unique aesthetic value of traditional clothing while deepening their understanding of China’s extensive cultural heritage. Beyond that, the sustained popularity of historical television dramas and online series across Chinese streaming platforms has also served as a major catalyst, bringing imperial-era aesthetics to mainstream young audiences and sparking their desire to experience the culture firsthand.

  • Hundreds arrested in France after wild Champions League celebrations

    Hundreds arrested in France after wild Champions League celebrations

    Paris Saint-Germain’s back-to-back UEFA Champions League victory over Arsenal ended in widespread chaos across France over the weekend, as violent clashes between celebrating fans and security forces left multiple people injured, caused extensive property damage, and resulted in more than 400 arrests nationwide. The unrest marked the second consecutive year that PSG’s European title win has devolved into large-scale public disorder, echoing the deadly violence that marred the club’s 2025 championship celebration.

    The trouble began even before the final whistle of the penalty shootout that secured PSG’s win, when clashes broke out between fans and police at the club’s home stadium, Parc des Princes, where thousands of supporters had gathered to watch the match broadcast on giant outdoor screens. Moments after the final penalty was scored, crowds of jubilant but unruly fans flooded onto Paris’s iconic Champs-Élysées, where the celebration quickly spun out of control.

    Video footage captured from central Paris shows revelers setting off flares and fireworks, igniting electric bicycles on public roadways, and smashing the glass storefront of a local business. According to official police accounts, the unrest left six vehicles, two commercial properties, and one bus shelter heavily damaged. Seven police officers were hurt in confrontations with crowds, prompting authorities to deploy thousands of additional law enforcement officers across the capital to restore order. Officers used tear gas to disperse unruly gatherings in central Paris, and the violence forced widespread disruptions to Paris’s public bus, train, and regional rail networks.

    France’s interior ministry confirmed that 416 people were taken into custody in the early hours of Sunday, with 280 of those arrests occurring within Paris city limits. Interior Minister Laurent Nuñez condemned the violence in a statement, calling the widespread unrest “absolutely unacceptable.”

    The disorder has sparked sharp political criticism, with far-right French leader Marine Le Pen taking to social media platform X to denounce the ongoing pattern of post-football violence in the country. “Only in France does a football club’s victory spark riots,” Le Pen wrote. “Only in France does everyone feel compelled to lock themselves in their homes on the evening of a victory to avoid being confronted with violence.”

    The unrest comes exactly one year after PSG’s 2025 Champions League victory was overshadowed by deadly clashes that left two people dead, including a 17-year-old boy. Despite the overnight violence, PSG’s planned victory parade is still set to go forward on Sunday afternoon. The parade will travel through the Champs de Mars, located adjacent to the Eiffel Tower, and will conclude with an official reception hosted by French President Emmanuel Macron at the Élysée Palace.

  • Ethiopia is heading to the polls, but not everyone can vote

    Ethiopia is heading to the polls, but not everyone can vote

    Ethiopia is set to hold its seventh general election on Monday, but the vote will be marred by widespread armed conflict across multiple regions and the total exclusion of millions of voters in the conflict-ravaged northern Tigray region. This poll comes 35 years after the 1991 collapse of the country’s military regime, a shift that paved the way for Eritrea’s secession just two years later. Today, tensions between Ethiopia and its northern neighbor have once again reached dangerous heights, casting a long shadow over the electoral process.

    Unlike executive-presidential systems, Ethiopian voters do not directly elect a head of government. Instead, they cast ballots for 547 parliamentary seats, with the party securing a 274-seat majority earning the right to form a five-year national government. The election is widely viewed as a referendum on the tenure of 49-year-old Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed, who rose to power in 2018 amid widespread mass protests against the Tigray-dominated ruling coalition, the Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Democratic Front (EPRDF), which had governed the country since 1991. Shortly after taking office, Abiy dissolved the EPRDF and launched his own centralised, less federally oriented political bloc, the Prosperity Party.

    When Abiy first assumed office, he was celebrated globally as a beacon of democratic reform: he released hundreds of imprisoned opposition politicians and journalists, and earned the 2019 Nobel Peace Prize for ending a 20-year military stalemate with Eritrea. Seven years later, that reputation has been all but erased. Critics now accuse his administration of widespread suppression of dissent, forcing opposition leaders into exile and arresting political rivals. The Tigray War, a two-year conflict that began in 2020, killed an estimated 600,000 people per African Union mediation estimates and pushed the entire region to the brink of famine before a 2022 peace deal. Today, press freedom remains severely constrained: major international outlets including the BBC have been denied press accreditation for the election. Ethiopia ranks 148th out of 180 countries on Reporters Without Borders’ 2025 World Press Freedom Index, and Human Rights Watch condemned the government in 2025 for arbitrary arrests of journalists and ongoing harassment of independent media. After the government revoked press credentials for three Reuters reporters in February 2026, the Committee to Protect Journalists documented a clear “troubling pattern of repressive regulatory action against international and independent press in Ethiopia.”

    Supporters of Abiy’s administration point to tangible economic and infrastructure progress, most visible in the capital Addis Ababa, where large-scale “Corridor Development” and “Riverside” projects have driven rapid urban transformation. These initiatives, aimed at upgrading transportation networks and public spaces, have nevertheless faced fierce criticism for mass demolitions that displaced tens of thousands of low-income residents. Economically, Ethiopia is Africa’s second most populous nation with 135.9 million people, and one of the continent’s fastest growing economies, per World Bank data. GDP per capita is projected to hit $1,133 in 2026, up from just $641 a decade earlier. Abiy’s reform agenda has also garnered backing from the International Monetary Fund and World Bank, contingent on continued liberalization of the country’s foreign exchange market and debt management—Ethiopia’s total public debt stood at $36.5 billion in 2024, per the World Bank. Even so, the country continues to grapple with crippling inflation that has driven up everyday costs for citizens, alongside persistent insecurity across multiple regions.

    Beyond the total exclusion of Tigray, two of Ethiopia’s most populous regions—Amhara and Oromia—have faced years of violent insurgency that has disrupted preparations for the vote. Fano militias in Amhara, which fought alongside the federal government during the Tigray War, refused a 2023 government order to disband, arguing the move would leave their region vulnerable to cross-border attacks. In Oromia, the Oromo Liberation Army (OLA), labeled a terrorist organization by Ethiopia’s parliament, has waged an insurgency demanding greater autonomy for the Oromo people, the country’s largest ethnic group, who have long complained of systemic political marginalization. Conflict tracking organisation Acled recorded more than 9,400 conflict-related deaths in the two regions in 2024 alone, and hundreds of thousands of residents have been displaced from their homes. While the federal government claims 97% of polling areas in Amhara and Oromia are ready for voting, the united opposition bloc, the Coalition for Ethiopian Unity, disputes this. Spokesperson Mistreselasie Tamrat told BBC Amharic that the coalition cannot campaign freely in either region due to a lack of secure conditions for political activity. Already, 30 of 137 constituencies in Amhara have cancelled voting.

    Veteran opposition politician Prof Merera Gurdina of the Oromo Federalist Congress called this election the least competitive in Ethiopia’s recent modern history. His party is only participating to avoid forced deregistration, he said: “We are participating symbolically because the law says you cannot boycott elections consecutively.”

    Tigray, home to roughly 6 million people, has been under an interim administration since the November 2022 Pretoria peace deal between the federal government and the Tigray People’s Liberation Front (TPLF). Tensions have escalated rapidly in recent weeks after the TPLF rejected Abiy’s unilateral reappointment of the interim administration leader without consultation, and moved to re-install former Tigray leader Debretsion Gebremichael—who led the region through the 2020-2022 war when the TPLF was labeled a terrorist organization. Disputes over electoral rules have left the TPLF effectively banned: Ethiopia’s election board ordered the TPLF to re-register as a new political party, a requirement the group rejected, leading to its legal status being revoked. The TPLF also accuses the federal government of reneging on key terms of the Pretoria accord, most notably the return of territory including western Tigray that the region lost during the war. Around 1 million people fled western Tigray during the conflict and currently live in poor conditions in makeshift displacement camps across the region. Earlier this month, the election board confirmed that no voting will take place in any of Tigray’s 38 constituencies, leaving millions of voters completely disenfranchised.

    Tensions have also been stoked by shifting relations with Eritrea, which gained independence in 1993 and has controlled Ethiopia’s entire former Red Sea coastline, leaving Ethiopia landlocked. Eritrea fought alongside Abiy’s government during the Tigray War, but relations between Asmara and Addis Ababa have since soured, largely over Abiy’s ambition to secure Ethiopian access to a Red Sea port. Recent reports of Eritrea building closer ties with the TPLF have further escalated tensions between the federal government and Tigray’s leadership, raising fears of a return to full-scale civil conflict.

    International Crisis Group Horn of Africa expert Magnus Taylor notes that while Abiy is all but guaranteed to secure a new term, the simultaneous presence of deep insecurity and unaddressed political grievances creates significant long-term risk. “Prime Minister Abiy will be confident that he will be re-elected. This shouldn’t obscure the fact that there are various internal insecurity issues, insurgencies and a risk of a new war in the north. The two things can exist at the same time,” Taylor explained. He added that regional mediation is urgently needed to open communication channels between the federal government and Tigray’s leadership to prevent miscalculation and encourage negotiated solutions to outstanding disputes.

    Even amid widespread political uncertainty, many of the 50.5 million registered voters—especially young first-time voters—hold out hope the election will deliver long-overdue stability. Fenet Dereje, a young resident of Addis Ababa, told the BBC that a negative outcome would have severe personal consequences: “If the outcome of the election is not positive, I think it will affect my daily life economically and politically. If instability arises, I may not be able to continue my education and it could be harder to move around.”

    Abiy’s Prosperity Party won a landslide majority in the 2021 election. Speaking to local media in March, Deputy Prime Minister Temesgen Tiruneh struck a conciliatory tone, saying the ruling party “did not want to win everything” this cycle. “We have ministers who are members of opposition parties. This trend will continue. We do not want to win 100% of the votes. We want to see our competitors claim victory because we want to accommodate diverse voices,” he said.

  • How stamps and postcards helped India count its people

    How stamps and postcards helped India count its people

    As India readies for its 16th national census – the eighth since achieving independence in 1947 – a new curated exhibition has pulled back the curtain on a little-known chapter of the country’s demographic history: how its sprawling postal network served as an unexpected foundation for nation-building and public trust in the world’s largest statistical exercise, long before smartphones and digital government apps transformed data collection.

    Curated by Vikas Kumar, an economics professor at Bengaluru’s Azim Premji University, the exhibition draws on rare archival materials including commemorative stamps, promotional postmarks, letters, and pre-census postcards to trace how the postal service turned routine mail into a tool for mass public mobilization. For the newly independent Indian republic, a reliable national census was far more than a bureaucratic task: it was an urgent foundational requirement. Reliable demographic data was needed to run fair elections based on universal adult franchise and to lay the groundwork for a centrally planned economy. So critical was this project to the new nation that the Constituent Assembly passed the Census Act in 1948, more than a year before the country’s final constitution was formally adopted.

    From the very first post-independence census in 1951, the Indian government turned to the post office to solve two critical, immediate challenges: reaching a dispersed population across a vast, mostly rural and low-income nation, and convincing ordinary people to participate – a hurdle shaped by the legacy of distrust left by colonial-era censuses. Parts of India had boycotted the 1931 and 1941 colonial headcounts, and the 1941 count in Punjab and Bengal was tainted by widespread allegations of communal manipulation, making public trust a non-negotiable priority for the new republic.

    At the time, India’s postal network was the most expansive unified communication system the state operated, growing faster than nearly all other public services including banking in the decades after independence. By 1968, more than 100,000 post offices delivered mail daily to 300,000 villages, with weekly service reaching an additional 300,000 rural communities. Postmasters and postmen also served as informal community intermediaries, often acting as readers and scribes for low-literacy villages – making the network perfectly suited for spreading census messaging.

    The exhibition showcases how this outreach evolved alongside the nation across decades. In 1951, one of the earliest known bilingual postmarks, stamped on an envelope mailed from Nandikotkur to Madras (now Chennai), featured a portrait of a three-person family alongside ‘Census of India, February 1951’ printed in both Hindi and English. For the 1961 census, inland letter cards posted across Assam carried clear, approachable postmarks urging recipients to ‘Get yourself & family counted’ and encourage friends to join in. A 1971 commemorative issue marked the centenary of modern Indian censuses, printing 3 million stamps that wove diverse Indian faces into the shape of the number 100, framing the census as a source of national pride and noting that data processing had transitioned to electronic computers for the first time.

    By the 2001 census, messaging framed the headcount as a ‘Mirror of the Nation’ and a ‘Group Photograph of the Nation’, with multilingual promotional postcards printed in 13 languages distributed across the country to emphasize the exercise’s role in national development. The 2001 commemorative stamp featured a four-person family under the slogan ‘People Oriented’, with a first day cover illustrating India’s diversity through a vibrant crowd scene, and a postmark depicting men, women and children holding hands in a semi-circle to symbolize the nation counting itself. Later messaging also began to tie population counting to public policy priorities like population control, reflecting the social anxieties of the era. The 2011 census marked a transition toward the digital age, with a commemorative stamp showing families linking hands with an enumerator alongside the census emblem, paired with a first day cover that paired a pixelated map of India with the official census symbol.

    For Kumar, these fragile, fading postal artifacts are more than a collection of bureaucratic memorabilia: they capture how the Indian state worked to build legitimacy and public trust through everyday, routine communication, weaving the census into core national narratives of development, diversity, and collective identity.

    That core challenge of building public trust remains just as relevant today, as India prepares to launch its first fully digital census. The upcoming headcount, which will cover 36 states and union territories, more than 7,000 sub-districts, over 9,700 towns, and nearly 640,000 villages, remains a staggering undertaking. Millions of households will be surveyed by enumerators drawn from local government staff, teachers, and community officials. For the first time, enumerators will use mobile apps to collect and upload data in real time, replacing pen and paper methods of the past. The new census will also deliver critical data for policy planning, welfare distribution, and political representation in the world’s most populous nation, and will mark the first time in decades that the exercise will collect detailed caste data – a politically sensitive project in a country where caste continues to shape social and economic opportunity.

    While digital tools promise faster data processing, Kumar warns that technology alone cannot replace the work of building public confidence. As the reach of the traditional postal network has faded, he argues, the government must develop new strategies to raise awareness and earn the trust of ordinary Indians. From family illustrations on postmarks to instant digital data uploads, India’s census has changed dramatically in 75 years. Yet the core challenge that the postal network solved decades ago – convincing more than a billion people to trust the state enough to add themselves to the collective story of the nation – remains unchanged.

  • How Putin became master of the image

    How Putin became master of the image

    For more than a quarter of a century at the helm of Russian politics, Vladimir Putin has held an unwavering understanding of one core truth of modern governance: visual imagery shapes public perception, and public perception consolidates power. This instinct stretches back decades before his 1999 rise to the presidency, and it has evolved alongside his grip on Russia, transforming from a carefully curated brand to a tool that now underpins an increasingly authoritarian regime.

    In the very first BBC interview with Putin in 2001, moments before cameras went live, a member of his entourage rushed in and removed the small water glasses placed on the interview table. When asked why, the aide offered two reasons: no one should be allowed to misinterpret the glasses as holding vodka, and a spilled glass on live television was an unacceptable risk. “Television is a nuclear bomb when it comes to publicity,” the aide explained. Political analyst and author Peter Pomerantsev notes that this small incident reveals a widespread understanding among Russia’s political elite, particularly Putin, that controlled television imagery was the key to unifying and holding power in post-Soviet Russia.

    Putin’s journey to the center of Russia’s political stage began far from the limelight. Growing up in Leningrad (now St. Petersburg) as a child of the Soviet television age in the 1960s and 70s, he drew early inspiration from the tough, stoic spy heroes that dominated popular Soviet film and television series. By his own admission, these portrayals of agents fighting enemies of the state convinced him to pursue a career with the KGB, the Soviet Union’s notorious intelligence service. For decades, he operated in the shadows: as a KGB operative, he avoided public attention, and after the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991, he rebranded himself as a quiet, loyal, and efficient bureaucrat, first in St. Petersburg’s city government, then in Boris Yeltsin’s Moscow presidential administration. Photos from this era consistently show him positioned at the back or edge of group shots, never looking directly at the camera, never claiming center stage. Nina Khrushcheva, great-granddaughter of Soviet leader Nikita Khrushchev, recalls that in 1990s KGB circles, Putin was nicknamed “the moth” — a man who could blend into any background and operate unseen.

    When Yeltsin unexpectedly catapulted Putin to the role of acting president in 1999, and he won election months later, Putin and his PR team immediately set to work constructing a public persona that would stand in stark contrast to his unpopular, ailing predecessor. Yeltsin’s public struggles with alcohol had become a source of national embarrassment for Russians, so the first step of image-building was to frame Putin as a disciplined, almost complete teetotaler. At annual meetings of the Valdai Discussion Club, where foreign experts are served fine wines, Putin sticks to a single cup of tea with honey. Even when he does drink in private settings, his minders go to great lengths to keep the information hidden. On one occasion, a local museum custodian who shared vodka-infused Russian pancakes with Putin begged a BBC correspondent not to report the interaction, warning that strict rules meant he could face severe punishment for the disclosure.

    Beyond framing himself as sober and disciplined, Putin set out to project an image of youthful, decisive masculinity — a sharp rebuke to the perception of Russia as a weak, declining state after the Soviet collapse. He posed for photos flying a fighter jet, released footage showcasing his competitive judo skills, and beginning in 2007, a series of viral images cemented this brand: bare-chested Putin riding a horse through Siberia, fly fishing in remote mountain rivers, or swimming laps to display his physical strength. Pomerantsev explains that this calculated visual messaging worked for two distinct audiences: for younger, media-savvy Russians, the stunts had a knowing, ironic edge that felt current; for traditionalist voters, they reinforced the narrative that Russia needed a hard, strong leader to return the country to great power status. “Putin was playing a very traditional Soviet leadership role, but he was doing it in the era of reality TV, MTV, and modern celebrity culture,” Pomerantsev notes. Fiona Hill, a leading Russia scholar and former advisor to multiple U.S. presidents, calls Putin a pioneer: “He shaped the image of the first populist president, the first acclaimed strongman of the 21st Century.”

    These over-the-top public stunts served multiple purposes beyond projecting strength abroad. Some, from scuba diving to “discover” pre-placed ancient relics in the Black Sea to flying a motorized hang glider alongside endangered Siberian cranes to petting a captive Siberian tiger cub, read as the fulfillment of childhood fantasies for a former Leningrad schoolboy who spent decades operating in the shadows. When he stepped down from the presidency to serve as prime minister between 2008 and 2012, the continued stream of attention-grabbing photos sent a clear signal: he, not sitting president Dmitry Medvedev, remained the ultimate center of power in Russia. Even the obvious effort behind the image hints at underlying insecurity, analysts argue: the relentless focus on physical fitness and strength is as much about reassuring Putin himself as it is about reassuring the Russian public that he remains the undisputed “main man” in the country.

    2011 marked a pivotal visual and political turning point for Putin. When he reemerged to run for a new presidential term, his face looked noticeably fuller, puffier, and far less expressive than before — sparking widespread speculation about undisclosed health issues, cosmetic treatments to reverse aging, or both. After his predictable election victory, he appeared at an open-air victory rally with streaks of tears running down his altered face. While the BBC correspondent who observed the scene concluded the tears were genuine, born of relief after widespread anti-Putin protests challenged his bid to return to power, some analysts argue the moment was yet another calculated performance, designed to evoke religious imagery of a weeping icon and frame Putin as Russia’s divinely anointed savior.

    Whatever the truth of that moment, it marked a clear shift in Putin’s rule. After 2012, his grip on Russian society tightened dramatically: what was once subtle discouragement of dissent became outright criminalization, political opposition was almost entirely eliminated, the national parliament was reduced to a rubber-stamp body that approved Putin’s every policy, and control over media and public expression became near-total. Nadya Tolokonnikova, a founding member of protest group Pussy Riot who was jailed and labeled a foreign agent for anti-Putin activism, calls this the turning point that created the Putin the world knows today: “Putin got obsessed with placing himself in history as the saviour, not just of Russia, but of the entire world.”

    Now aged 73, and more than 25 years after he first took power, Putin’s public image has shifted again, shaped by the Covid-19 pandemic and the 2022 full-scale invasion of Ukraine. He appears far less frequently in public, and every on-camera appearance is heavily scripted and choreographed, with Putin deliberately keeping distance from most people. Hill argues this new approach reflects growing paranoia: “He obviously wants to be careful that people can’t necessarily track him down. It shows someone who’s paranoid about his personal safety – from germs or assassination attempts.”

    Today, the war in Ukraine sits at the center of Putin’s public identity. Veteran Russian journalist Mikhail Fishman argues that after returning to the Kremlin in 2012, Putin still lacked a clear defining mission — the war gave him that purpose. But after more than four years of full-scale conflict, the war has become a trap. Ending the war carries huge political risks for Putin, but continuing it imposes growing costs on Russia’s economy and political system. The resulting portrait of Putin today is a far cry from the dynamic, action-oriented sportsman he once worked so hard to project: he is a remote, inflexible leader, trapped in the authoritarian system and cult of personality he spent a quarter-century building.

    This analysis is adapted from BBC InDepth, a series offering in-depth reporting and fresh perspective on global current affairs. The documentary *Putin: In Ten Pictures* is available to watch now on BBC iPlayer.

  • Cafe owner says UK police tried to recruit him to spy on Palestine Action

    Cafe owner says UK police tried to recruit him to spy on Palestine Action

    A Manchester-based cafe owner and prominent pro-Palestine activist has brought serious allegations against British law enforcement, claiming officers offered him financial incentives and informal leniency for minor offenses in exchange for spying on the banned advocacy group Palestine Action. Shams Sadiq, 51, who owns two local cafes, shared his account with The Guardian, detailing that the improper offer was made when he attended a police station in Ashton-under-Lyne on May 15 to recover electronic equipment police had seized following his 2023 arrest over alleged ties to the group.

    During the private meeting described as a “man to man” discussion, two officers told Sadiq they had examined his confiscated devices and concluded he had deep connections to Palestine Action. Instead of moving forward with charges related to his 2023 arrest, however, they presented him with an under-the-table deal. According to Sadiq, the officers explicitly stated there would be tangible benefits for cooperating with their investigations. When Sadiq pressed to confirm the incentives included financial support, the officers confirmed they could assist with expenses such as his tax obligations, and added that they would be willing to overlook certain low-level offenses. When Sadiq asked if the deal could cover his existing speeding tickets, the officers replied that minor infractions like speeding were of no concern to them in this arrangement.

    Sadiq says he understood the request to be a demand for him to provide intelligence on Palestine Action members and activities. He added that officers specifically noted his standing in the local Muslim community, leading him to believe they also wanted him to report on community members at his local mosque who they labeled as holding extreme views. This is not the first recent interaction law enforcement has had with Sadiq: just four days before the May 15 police station meeting, he was detained and questioned for three hours under Schedule 7 of the UK’s Terrorism Act at Manchester Airport. Though he was not arrested during that stop, officers again seized his electronic devices, which were only returned days later. During the airport questioning, Sadiq says he was interrogated about his connections to Palestine Action, his personal finances, and his views on Iran, as well as asked how he would respond to someone with extreme views at his mosque. Sadiq remains under active investigation for a separate alleged offense linked to Palestine Action that dates to 2024.

    Sadiq has long been a visible local figure for pro-Palestine advocacy, and has already been targeted for his activism: last year, vandals placed Israeli flags on the door of one of his cafes. After rejecting the officers’ offer, Sadiq chose to go public with his account as a safety measure. He told The Guardian that officers attempted to reassure him by offering protection for his family and did not pressure him for an immediate answer, instead leaving a private phone number for him to text if he changed his mind.

    Sadiq’s lawyer, Simon Pook, is preparing to file a formal complaint against Greater Manchester Police over the incident. Pook drew a parallel between the alleged conduct and the controversial informancy practices the British state employed during the Troubles in Northern Ireland, noting that “We’re unhappy that he was put in that position and offered inducements to work for the state.” Pook also raised questions about the legality of the airport detention under Schedule 7, arguing that if the stop was only a pretext to set up the later inducement offer, the use of the anti-terrorism powers was unlawful. Schedule 7 is legally only permitted to be used when authorities have reasonable suspicion that a person is involved in terrorism or terrorist planning.

    To date, Greater Manchester Police has declined to issue any comment on the allegations. The case comes amid growing controversy over the UK government’s 2023 decision to proscribe Palestine Action as a terrorist organization, a move that came after group members carried out a break-in at a British military air base. The ban makes membership in or public support for Palestine Action a criminal offense punishable by up to 14 years of imprisonment. Since the proscription went into effect, hundreds of people have been arrested and charged on grounds of supporting the group, including high-profile Swedish climate activist Greta Thunberg, who was detained in December for holding a sign stating her support for Palestine Action prisoners and opposition to what she calls genocide in Gaza.

    The ban has also drawn sharp international criticism from human rights officials. United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights Volker Turk publicly condemned the proscription last July, arguing that UK authorities were misusing counter-terrorism legislation to suppress activities that amount to the legitimate exercise of fundamental civil and political rights. Turk called the decision “disproportionate and unnecessary.”

  • Man charged with murder of woman in County Galway

    Man charged with murder of woman in County Galway

    A fatal violent incident in western Ireland has led to a murder charge before the courts, after a woman’s body was discovered earlier this week near an asylum housing facility in County Galway. The victim has been identified as Masumeh Manojan, a 30-something woman originally from Iran, who was found with life-ending slash and stab injuries by those who discovered her remains on the morning of May 28. The 35-year-old man accused of her killing, Ali Sohrabi, who has no fixed abode in the area, appeared before Galway District Court following his arrest by the Irish national police, known locally as gardaí. When formally presented with the murder charge during processing by gardaí on the evening of May 30, Sohrabi entered a plea of “not guilty” by responding “no” to the charge. Gardaí escorted Sohrabi directly to the Galway court for his initial hearing, which remained short and procedural per Irish court protocol for murder cases. During the hearing, a detective testified that Sohrabi is accused of killing Manojan at some point between May 27 and May 28. Manojan’s body was located within close proximity to a facility operated by the International Protection Accommodation Services (IPAS), a government agency that provides housing to asylum seekers waiting for their international protection claims to be processed in the Republic of Ireland. Following the hearing, Judge agreed to remand Sohrabi in custody at Castlerea Prison, located in neighboring County Roscommon, ahead of his next court appearance. Sohrabi’s legal representative, a defence solicitor, submitted a formal request to the court that the accused be granted access to both routine medical care and psychiatric support during his time on remand, a request the judge granted. Sohrabi is scheduled to make his next appearance before Galway District Court via remote video link next Wednesday. Irish national public service broadcaster RTÉ first reported details of the court appearance and charges.

  • Ferrari wanted to take on Chinese EVs with the Luce – then the backlash started

    Ferrari wanted to take on Chinese EVs with the Luce – then the backlash started

    For decades, Ferrari has built its global legacy on roaring petrol-powered supercars, with a design language and driving experience that are instantly recognizable to enthusiasts around the world. That legacy is now at the center of a fierce public debate following the debut of the Ferrari Luce, the Italian luxury marque’s first all-electric vehicle and first five-seater model, conceived in collaboration with legendary iPhone designer Sir Jony Ive.

    The launch of the highly anticipated EV was framed as a landmark cultural and industrial event, with Italian President Sergio Mattarella and Pope Leo invited to preview the $640,000 vehicle before its public unveiling. But within hours of the reveal, a wave of criticism spread across social media, boardrooms, and political circles, dragging Ferrari’s share price down 8% in a single trading day as meme after meme mocked the car’s unconventional design.

    Unlike the low-slung, aerodynamic profile that defines classic Ferrari models, the Luce adopts a far more upright silhouette that has divided observers. Most notably for long-time fans, the electric powertrain eliminates the deep, roaring engine roar that has become synonymous with the prancing horse badge. That departure from Ferrari’s core identity has drawn condemnation from some of the brand’s most prominent insiders and supporters.

    Former Ferrari chairman Luca Cordero di Montezemolo has publicly warned that the Luce risks destroying the Ferrari legend, calling for the company to remove its iconic badge from the model. Italy’s Deputy Prime Minister and Transport Minister Matteo Salvini echoed that skepticism, questioning what Enzo Ferrari, the brand’s founder, would make of the new vehicle, adding that it “looks like anything but a car from the prancing horse”. Shaun Baker, an Australian high-end luxury car dealer and lifelong Ferrari collector who has owned more than 50 of the marque’s vehicles, went even further, rebranding the Luce (pronounced “loo-chay”) as the “Loser”. “Ferrari was the ultimate aspirational brand to own,” Baker explained in an interview with the BBC. “But with the Luce, they’ve hurt their image irreparably.”

    Social media critics have been equally scathing, with some describing the design as an “abomination” and others joking that Enzo Ferrari would rise from his grave to retake control of the company. Many compared the Luce’s design to far cheaper mass-market models, including the Nissan Leaf and Chinese budget EVs, claims that Ferrari CEO Benedetto Vigna has forcefully rejected. Other users have shared 10-second AI-generated redesigns of the Luce that they argue look far more like a traditional Ferrari than the official production model.

    While a small group of observers have praised the Luce as a bold design masterclass, the negative reaction to the vehicle fits into a broader pattern of growing pushback against rapid EV transition among legacy luxury automakers. This is not the first time Vigna, who has led Ferrari for five years, has faced controversy over a radical new model line: when the company launched its first SUV, the Purosangue, in 2022, critics warned it would tarnish Ferrari’s exclusive supercar identity. Ultimately, the model defied expectations and sold strongly, opening up an entirely new profitable market segment for the brand.

    Ferrari is also far from the first legacy luxury marque to face backlash over a radical electric concept. In 2024, Jaguar drew fierce criticism when it announced plans to transition to an all-EV luxury brand and unveiled the Type 00 concept, a model that bore little resemblance to the British carmaker’s classic design heritage. Like Vigna today, Jaguar’s leadership defended the radical shift, arguing that bold disruption was necessary to stand out in a crowded EV market.

    Today, the Luce’s debut comes at a moment of massive upheaval for the global auto industry, with legacy Western brands facing mounting pressure from multiple directions. Many major automakers, including Lamborghini, Porsche, Honda, and Ford, have recently scaled back or scrapped their all-electric development programs amid softer-than-expected consumer demand and persistent buyer preference for petrol and hybrid powertrains. Following the Luce’s controversial reveal, Lamborghini CEO Stephan Winkelmann said his company’s decision to prioritize hybrid technology over full electrification was “the right way to go”, though he acknowledged that every brand must choose its own path.

    On top of shifting demand, global luxury automakers also face unprecedented cutthroat competition from Chinese EV manufacturers, which benefit from lower production costs, aggressive government subsidies, and massive domestic supply chains that cut EV component manufacturing costs by at least 30% compared to production in other regions, according to the International Energy Agency. Chinese brands have rapidly expanded from the mass market into the premium luxury segment, launching high-performance electric supercars that undercut Western models on price while matching or exceeding their performance. For example, BYD’s $250,000 Yangwang U9 all-electric supercar accelerates from 0 to 60mph in just 2.3 seconds – faster than the Luce’s 2.5-second 0-60 time.

    Industry analysts have offered mixed views on the Luce and Ferrari’s long-term strategy. Singapore-based auto analyst James Wong praised the Luce’s high-quality interior design but noted that the model as a whole is “unrecognizable” as a Ferrari, adding that the company would have benefited from testing the design with loyal fans before launch. At the same time, Wong suggested the massive media attention generated by the backlash could have been an intentional strategic choice to draw attention to Ferrari’s new direction.

    Sustainable automotive industry expert Jessica Cheam noted that the Luce’s $640,000 price tag looks particularly steep at a time when consumers have access to increasingly luxurious, high-quality EVs at far lower price points. However, Cheam argued that the Luce is not aimed at Ferrari’s die-hard traditional fanbase: instead, it is targeted at younger, more EV-friendly buyers who may have never considered purchasing a Ferrari before. Wong echoed that logic, noting that the model’s radical departure from classic Ferrari design could help the brand attract entirely new customer segments that it has never reached before.

    Vigna has defended the pricing and design of the Luce, arguing that the six-figure price tag is a fair reflection of the innovation built into the vehicle, and confirming that the company has already seen strong pre-launch interest from potential buyers. The BBC has requested additional comment from Ferrari on the wave of public criticism, but has not yet received a response.

  • Paris police detain 45 after violence erupts during celebrations of PSG’s Champions League title

    Paris police detain 45 after violence erupts during celebrations of PSG’s Champions League title

    PARIS — Chaos erupted on the streets of Paris late Saturday after Paris Saint-Germain secured its second-ever UEFA Champions League title, as violent outbursts marred fan festivities, left one police officer injured, and led law enforcement to take 45 people into custody. The historic match, held in Budapest, Hungary, saw PSG edge out Arsenal in a tense penalty shootout that sent tens of thousands of supporters pouring into Parisian public spaces immediately after the final whistle.

    Initial gatherings across the capital started as peaceful celebrations: around 20,000 fans flocked to the iconic Champs-Élysées avenue, while dozens more marched along boulevards near the Arc de Triomphe, setting off flares and sounding car horns in collective excitement over the club’s long-awaited win. Police were deployed early to manage crowds and keep movement flowing through the busy tourist district.

    But the mood shifted quickly when small, unruly factions split off from the main groups to launch coordinated disturbances across multiple neighborhoods. The Paris Police Prefecture confirmed that vandals targeted local businesses, damaging a nearby bakery and a restaurant, while groups also set unauthorized fires in public areas. In one of the most serious incidents, a crowd attempted to force entry into a police station located in the upscale 8th Arrondissement. Officers quickly intervened to disperse the group and secure the building, though one officer was hurt during the clashes.

    Elsewhere in the city, protesters briefly blockaded Paris’s peripheral ring road before police moved in to clear the thoroughfare. Near PSG’s home stadium in the 16th Arrondissement, law enforcement contained an unsanctioned gathering of roughly 1,000 fans and dismantled barricades constructed from stolen bicycles. By 10 p.m. local time, officials confirmed that 45 people had been detained in connection with the unrest.

    The chaotic scenes echo similar violence that followed PSG’s first Champions League title win in May of the previous year, when authorities made more than 500 arrests across France. To prevent widespread disorder this year, the city had already activated high-security protocols, drawing parallels to the 8,000 officers deployed across Paris last season. The unrest has once again sparked conversations about crowd management and fan behavior following major elite football matches in the French capital.

  • ‘It’s like a decaying body’: Australian farmers battle mouse plague

    ‘It’s like a decaying body’: Australian farmers battle mouse plague

    Across vast agricultural regions of Australia, an unprecedented mouse plague is unleashing chaos on farming communities, destroying growing crops and upending daily life for producers already grappling with cascading economic pressures from global geopolitical instability. The infestation, which first emerged in Western Australia’s key grain-growing zones in early 2026, has rapidly spread to neighboring South Australia, leaving widespread ruin in its wake and stretching the resilience of even the most seasoned agricultural operators.

    This crisis comes on top of already significant strain: unpredictable fuel and fertilizer supplies, driven by the ongoing US-Israeli conflict with Iran, have sent input costs soaring for Australian farmers, leaving little room in tight budgets to absorb new, unexpected expenses. To combat the invasion, producers have poured hundreds of thousands of dollars into emergency responses, from re-sowing crops that mice have devoured to laying poison-laced sterile bait across their paddocks – costs that extend far beyond the price of materials themselves.

    Geoff Cosgrove, a 25-year farming veteran who operates a 14,000-hectare mixed grain farm in Mingenew, Western Australia, describes the 2026 infestation as far more severe than the last major plague that hit eastern Australia in 2021. That 2021 outbreak was already record-breaking for parts of New South Wales and Queensland, so severe that entire prison populations had to be relocated after rodents caused catastrophic structural damage to correctional facilities. For Cosgrove, the harm is not just financial: the invasion has seeped into every corner of daily life, leaving him unable to find respite even inside his home. “They do play with your mind – running around at night, in the ceiling, the air conditioning units. You can hear them and you can smell them – it’s like a decaying body,” he says. Like many farmers, Cosgrove only twice had to deploy large-scale baiting across his property in 25 years – a fact that underscores how extreme this year’s outbreak is. He holds out cautious hope that dropping winter temperatures will naturally reduce rodent populations.

    Two hours north of Cosgrove’s operation, Belinda Eastough, a 59-year-old agronomist and fourth-generation farmer with 40 years of experience, has watched the plague unfold on her 5,500-hectare Geraldton-region property, one of the areas hit hardest by the infestation. Eastough says a confluence of ideal conditions for mouse population growth set the stage for this year’s crisis. After a record-breaking 2025 harvest, large amounts of grain were spilled across paddocks, creating an abundant, accessible food source. Unseasonable summer rain then triggered the growth of new green vegetation, giving rodents an even more diverse food supply. “So instead of just steak, they got steak and salad. Basically, the mice were in absolute mouse heaven,” she explains. Today, she estimates between 8,000 and 10,000 mice per hectare in her canola fields – a number that dwarfs the 800-per-hectare threshold researchers use to define a plague.

    The timing of the outbreak could not be worse: autumn is the critical planting window for Australia’s annual grain crop, much of which is exported to Southeast Asia or used for domestic food production. Mice target freshly sown seeds immediately after planting, meaning entire rows of crops can be wiped out in less than 12 hours if baiting is not completed right after seeding. Like other producers, Eastough says the plague comes as an additional blow on top of already skyrocketing input costs. “We’re paying twice for fuel now than we were paying two, three months ago,” she notes. “The mouse thing is another thing thrown on top, another headache.”

    Steve Henry, a mouse control specialist and research officer with Australia’s national science agency CSIRO, confirms the severity of the outbreak matches the on-the-ground reports from farmers. On a recent assessment trip to Western Australia’s cropping zones, Henry counted 30 to 40 active mouse burrows along a 100-meter transect, translating to at least 3,000 to 4,000 burrows per hectare – a population density unseen in recent decades. Henry explains that mice’s extraordinary reproductive capacity is what allows populations to explode so rapidly: rodents reach breeding age at just six weeks old, produce six to 10 offspring every 19 to 21 days, and can become pregnant again just two to three days after giving birth, allowing generations of offspring to develop simultaneously.

    Beyond the massive economic damage, Henry emphasizes the underrecognized psychological toll of a mouse plague, which is far more invasive than other common farming crises such as drought. “If you’re dealing with a drought, you can go inside and close the door and turn on the air conditioner and get some level of respite,” he says. “But if you’re dealing with mice, you go inside, close the door, go to your cupboard, and the mice are in the cupboard … You go to sleep at night, and the mice are running across your bed.”

    After months of lobbying from farming communities, Australia’s national environmental regulator has finally approved access to higher-strength rodent bait for affected producers, a move welcomed by desperate farmers across the impacted regions. Retired 67-year-old farmer Damian Ryan, who has worked the land in Morawa, north of Perth, for 50 years, says he has never seen an infestation this bad. Ryan, who currently catches 20 to 30 mice a day inside his home and 150 more in his shed each day, calls the current situation “plague proportions” unmatched in his decades of farming. “You drive around at night and you just see mice running everywhere,” he says.

    In recent days, farmers have reported early signs of relief, coinciding with the rollout of the stronger bait, cooler seasonal temperatures, and forecast rain. Many, like Cosgrove, are optimistic that the worst will soon pass as winter sets in, but the economic and emotional damage of the 2026 plague will leave long-lasting impacts on Australia’s farming communities already pushed to the brink by global instability.