分类： politics

In a bombshell interview aired Wednesday on *The Tucker Carlson Show*, sitting Kentucky Republican Congressman Thomas Massie has made explosive claims that no less than 95 percent of campaign funding for his main primary challenger comes from national pro-Israel lobbying groups and out-of-state billionaires. The race, set to wrap up later this month, has emerged as one of the most heavily targeted Republican primaries in modern U.S. political history, according to Massie. First elected to Congress in 2012, Massie has carved out a unique niche on the American right as a vocal critic of endless foreign wars, unrestricted foreign aid, and a self-described skeptic of uncritical U.S. policy toward Israel. He has also drawn national attention for his uncompromising push to unseal all court documents related to the Jeffrey Epstein case, a stance that has put him at odds with establishment figures across both major parties. For years, Massie has also been a frequent target of former President Donald Trump and his Make America Great Again movement, which has thrown its full weight behind his opponent this cycle. Massie’s challenger, Ed Gallrein, is a former Navy Seal with low name recognition even among Kentucky voters, but his campaign has been flooded with outside cash from a coalition of pro-Israel advocacy groups led by the American Israel Public Affairs Committee (AIPAC). Speaking to Carlson, Massie named additional backers including the Republican Jewish Coalition and Christians United for Israel, alongside three high-profile billionaires that have become major players in U.S. electoral politics: Miriam Adelson, Paul Singer, and John Paulson. None of these major donors are residents of Kentucky, Massie emphasized. “Their position is more war, more strife, more bombs, more foreign aid, and those are exactly the policies I have been voting against throughout my time in Congress,” Massie told Carlson. “That is the real reason this race has become competitive, and why I could lose. A foreign lobby has poured unprecedented funding into this race, on a scale they have never done in any Republican primary before.” To put the spending disparity in perspective: Massie’s own campaign has raised roughly $5 million total for this cycle, while pro-Gallrein forces have spent more than $10 million alone on negative attack ads targeting the incumbent. Among the attack content is an AI-generated deepfake video that falsely depicts Massie entering a hotel with members of “The Squad,” the high-profile group of progressive Democratic congresswomen. When Carlson asked why national pro-Israel groups and billionaires would care so deeply about the outcome of a small-state Republican House primary, Massie framed himself as a rare dissenting voice inside Congress on foreign policy matters. “If I lose on May 19, I’ll be out of Congress come January 3 next year,” Massie explained. “Nobody will follow my social media, I won’t be invited into the sensitive compartmented information facilities, the SCIFs, to read the classified interpretations of laws the executive branch uses to spy on American people. The one whistleblower, for all intents and purposes, inside Congress will be gone.” As public awareness of AIPAC’s election spending has grown in recent years, and American voters have increasingly grown weary of the U.S.’s unconditional diplomatic and military support for Israel, the lobbying group has adapted by obscuring its financial ties to preferred candidates, Massie claimed. According to his analysis, the groups are funneling direct cash from their donors to Gallrein’s campaign through an intermediary vendor named Democracy Engine, a platform that allows any donor to contribute to any candidate from any party without publicly linking the original donors to the spending. Carlson pushed back on the common narrative that criticism of pro-Israel lobbying amounts to anti-Israel or antisemitic rhetoric, noting that Massie’s position is simply rooted in opposition to U.S. foreign aid spending of any kind for foreign nations. “You didn’t even attack Israel. You’re not even hostile to Israel. That’s nothing to do with that at all,” Carlson said. “You just don’t think the U.S. government should be sending money for other countries, right?” Massie responded by confirming that stance, adding that it aligns with the views of his Kentucky constituents. This is not the first time AIPAC has poured massive sums of money into o sitting members of Congress it views as out of step with its policy goals. The group successfully defeated multiple progressive Democratic incumbents in recent cycles, including Missouri’s Cory Bush and New York’s Jamaal Bowman. This report originates from Middle East Eye, a media outlet focused on independent coverage of the Middle East, North Africa and global affairs. Late last year, the organization Democracy for the Arab World Now—founded by the late Washington Post and Middle East Eye journalist Jamal Khashoggi, who was murdered in 2018—launched the “Faces of AIPAC” project, which published the identities and profiles of the key leaders who run the influential lobbying group.

Tensions on the Korean Peninsula have escalated sharply in recent days, after North Korea announced plans to roll out advanced long-range artillery systems capable of striking the Seoul capital region and commission its first purpose-built naval destroyer by mid-year — moves that come on the heels of a sweeping constitutional change that abandons decades of official commitment to Korean unification.

The developments mark the most visible escalation of Pyongyang’s hard-line stance under leader Kim Jong Un, who has spent years steadily moving away from the goal of a single Korean state and redefining South Korea as the country’s primary permanent enemy.

North Korea’s state-run Korean Central News Agency (KCNA) detailed Kim’s two-day inspection tour of military facilities this week. On Wednesday, Kim visited a munitions factory to oversee production of new 155-mm self-propelled gun-howitzers, which are set to be deployed to artillery units stationed along the southern border with South Korea before the end of 2024. According to KCNA, Kim confirmed these large-caliber rifled weapons have a maximum striking range exceeding 60 kilometers, or roughly 37 miles. The North Korean leader framed the enhanced capability as a transformative advantage for his military’s ground operations, noting that “such a rapid extension of striking range and remarkable improvement of striking capability will provide a great change and advantage in the land operations of our army.” Kim added that a suite of other tactical and operational missile systems, along with advanced multiple rocket launchers, are also scheduled for deployment along the inter-Korean border in coming months.

While North Korea’s ballistic missile program has dominated global headlines and drawn repeated United Nations sanctions, its large conventional artillery force positioned near the border has long been considered one of the most immediate threats to South Korea. The Seoul capital region, home to more than 10 million South Korean citizens, sits just 40 to 50 kilometers from the inter-Korean border — putting the entire area well within range of the newly announced artillery systems.

On Thursday, a day after the factory inspection, Kim traveled to North Korea’s west coast to review sea trials of the country’s first newly built navy destroyer, the Choe Hyon. Kim praised the completion of all pre-commissioning tests, and ordered military officials to formally transfer the warship to the North Korean navy by mid-June, as originally planned.

Notably, Kim’s teenage daughter accompanied him during the destroyer inspection, marking another high-profile public appearance together that fuels ongoing speculation about her position as Kim’s intended successor. Last month, South Korea’s National Intelligence Service publicly assessed that she could be formally recognized as the next heir to North Korea’s ruling family. The Choe Hyon, first unveiled to great fanfare in 2023, is North Korea’s largest and most technologically advanced surface warship to date. Pyongyang began construction on a second destroyer of the same class shortly after, but that vessel suffered significant damage during a botched launching ceremony. Kim has publicly called for the construction of two additional destroyers of the class to modernize the North Korean navy.

Kim’s series of military inspections came just days after South Korea confirmed that North Korea’s recently amended constitution has removed all official language referencing peaceful unification with the South, and redefined Pyongyang’s national territory as only the northern half of the Korean Peninsula. The constitutional change codifies a dramatic shift in North Korea’s long-standing policy, breaking with the position held by Kim’s predecessors, who prioritized the goal of eventual unification under northern rule. Since the start of 2024, Kim has repeatedly declared South Korea a hostile state, and ordered the constitutional rewrite to eliminate all official concepts of shared Korean statehood.

The hardening of North Korea’s position represents a major setback for South Korea’s liberal government, which has prioritized reengaging in dialogue with Pyongyang and taken proactive steps to reduce cross-border tensions — including ending the controversial propaganda loudspeaker broadcasts that South Korea historically operated along the inter-Korean border.

The current escalation comes after a years-long stagnation in diplomatic efforts: North Korea has refused all formal dialogue with both South Korea and the United States since 2019, when high-profile nuclear diplomacy between Kim Jong Un and then-U.S. President Donald Trump collapsed. Since the breakdown of talks, Pyongyang has focused heavily on expanding its nuclear and conventional military arsenals, steadily increasing the threat it poses to regional security.

In an explosive exclusive interview with Middle East Eye, Karim Khan, the Chief Prosecutor of the International Criminal Court, has lifted the veil on what he calls a dangerous, politically motivated smear campaign to force him out of office. The unprecedented campaign, he alleges, is rooted in backlash over his office’s groundbreaking push for arrest warrants targeting Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and former Israeli Defense Minister Yoav Gallant over alleged war crimes in Gaza, and it has twisted unfounded sexual misconduct allegations to sideline him.

Khan’s investigation into Gaza war crimes led his office to request arrest warrants for the two Israeli leaders in May 2024, with the court officially issuing the warrants that November. Almost immediately, the pressure campaign escalated: Khan, his two deputy prosecutors, and multiple ICC judges have since been hit with United States sanctions, and prominent Western politicians have delivered direct threats to force the court to back down. Khan confirmed to MEE that U.S. Senator Lindsey Graham threatened consequences against him if he moved forward with the warrants, while then-U.K. Foreign Secretary David Cameron warned that the U.K. would withdraw from the court and cut off funding if the prosecutions proceeded. In a 2024 April phone call, Cameron told Khan he had “lost the plot” for advancing the warrants, and made clear that Western powers would create major political and financial difficulties for the ICC if he refused to back down.

The internal campaign against Khan has centered on unsubstantiated sexual misconduct claims filed against him in 2024. The ICC’s Assembly of State Parties Bureau commissioned the United Nations Office of Internal Oversight Services to investigate the allegations, and a panel of independent ICC judges appointed to review the OIOS probe unanimously concluded in March 2025 that there was no evidence of misconduct or breach of duty by Khan. Despite this clear ruling, a bloc of mostly Western and European states on the 21-member ASP Bureau voted to ignore the judges’ finding, reopen the investigation, and keep Khan suspended from his post – a move Khan says violates core legal and procedural norms.

Khan has repeatedly and strenuously denied all allegations against him, noting that he has always maintained professional and appropriate relationships with all ICC staff. What makes the ongoing process even more unfair, he argues, is the blatant bias and breach of confidentiality that has marked it from the start. Unlike previous ICC officials investigated for misconduct, who were granted full anonymity during proceedings, ASP Bureau President Paivi Kaukoranta, a Finnish diplomat, confirmed Khan’s name and the details of the allegations to the press in October 2024, a move he calls a clear breach of the body’s confidentiality obligations. He also accused one of the ASP’s two vice presidents of holding an off-process meeting with his accuser, a step that violates all standards of due process.

Khan filed a motion to disqualify three biased Bureau members from participating in the decision on his future. While one member voluntarily recused themselves, the Bureau rejected his request to remove the other two, whose identities he has not publicly disclosed. Former U.N. OIOS Assistant Secretary-General Ben Swanson, who oversaw the original investigation before leaving his post in February 2025, has submitted new evidence backing Khan: Swanson confirmed that neither the final investigation report nor any underlying material meets the required standard of proof to support a finding of misconduct. Khan points out that the proof standard applied was set by the ASP Bureau itself, and has been used for all ICC staff and elected officials throughout the court’s history.

The ICC prosecutor has been on indefinite leave for nearly a year while the investigation dragged on, and he chose to remain silent throughout the process to respect procedural confidentiality. Now that the U.N. investigation is complete, he has broken his silence to warn that the ongoing campaign has pushed the court into uncharted, dangerous territory. If political appointees and diplomats can subvert a clear, independent investigation to remove an elected ICC official based on unfounded claims, Khan argues, this will set a catastrophic precedent that allows any future elected leader at the court to be ousted for political reasons.

“This is a template for getting rid of any elected official, now or in the future, on spurious or flimsy or fabricated or unfounded grounds,” Khan told MEE. He added that the bureau’s process “seems to be moving from legality to political considerations.” If the Bureau ultimately rules against him and the full ASP votes to remove him from office, Khan says he will immediately appeal the decision to the International Labour Organisation Appeals Tribunal to challenge the fairness of the process.

Internal divisions have already emerged within the Bureau: the vote to reopen the investigation was the first non-consensus decision in the body’s recent history, with a number of member states arguing the case should be closed and the judges’ ruling honored. The states that voted to disregard the panel of judges include Belgium, Bolivia, Brazil, Chile, Cyprus, Ecuador, Finland, Italy, Japan, Latvia, New Zealand, Poland, Slovenia, South Korea, and Switzerland.

Khan also revealed new details of the broader intimidation campaign against him: he has received intelligence that he is under close surveillance by both Russian and Israeli intelligence agencies, a claim he has passed to Dutch authorities. Last year, MEE reporting revealed that a Mossad surveillance team was operating in The Hague near ICC headquarters, raising fears for Khan’s safety, and that a parallel media campaign had been launched to destroy his reputation and split the ICC prosecutor’s office. Khan acknowledges that the campaign has already done significant harm to his reputation, but says he is confident its underlying goal – to derail the Gaza war crimes investigation – will not succeed.

Against the backdrop of growing Western pressure on the ICC, particularly since the return of U.S. President Donald Trump to office in January 2025, Khan says the court is facing the most concerted attack on international judicial institutions in modern history. He was the first ICC official targeted with U.S. sanctions shortly after Trump took office, with his deputy prosecutors sanctioned later in 2025. This pattern of targeting ICC prosecutors is not new: during Trump’s first term, Khan’s predecessor Fatou Bensouda was also sanctioned over an investigation into U.S. war crimes in Afghanistan, before being delisted during the Biden administration. The ultimate goal of the pressure campaign, Khan says, is to force the ICC to abandon any investigation into crimes committed in Palestinian territories.

Despite growing skepticism about the future of a rules-based international order, and longstanding criticism that the ICC has disproportionately focused on African cases while holding Western powers unaccountable, Khan argues that the court and multilateral judicial institutions remain irreplaceable. “There is a concerted attempt in some quarters to erode confidence in these structures, in these institutions, because they may, from one vantage point, be viewed as an impediment to power,” he said. “And that’s exactly why we need them.”

Khan rejects the idea that these flaws mean the global community should abandon the pursuit of equal international justice. Instead, he says, they should inspire greater effort to build a fairer system. Humanity is a work in progress in law, just as it is in science, technology and every other field, he notes, and the future of international justice depends on the commitment of ordinary people around the world. “Do they want their children to live in a world governed by brute power or a world regulated by law?” Khan asked. “Justice is too important to leave to the lawyers. It’s too important to leave to the prosecutor of the ICC, or even to the judges of the ICC. Everybody should say they’ve got a stake in justice, whether they’re affected or they’re not.”

Beneath pouring rain on a busy Tokyo street corner, a growing crowd of demonstrators huddled together, their protest placards and national peace flags soaked through by the downpour. Across one large sign, two bold Japanese kanji characters stood out clearly against the waterlogged background: “No War”.

This simple, resolute slogan encapsulates a rapidly growing movement that has gripped Japan, as the nation sees its largest mass anti-war demonstrations in more than 70 years. The unrest comes in response to sweeping policy changes introduced by Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi, who has moved Japan sharply away from its decades-long post-WWII pacifist stance since taking office in October 2025. Under her administration, long-standing restrictions on lethal arms exports have been lifted, and the country’s military is being positioned to take on a much more active role in global security affairs.

The Japanese government justifies these shifts by pointing to escalating regional tensions, framing the changes as a necessary response to an increasingly unstable security landscape. But for a large share of the Japanese public, the moves have sparked deep alarm, fueling fears that the country is on a path to becoming a full war-capable nation — and drawing thousands of citizens out into the rain to make their opposition heard.

Mass public protest is an unusual occurrence in Japan, where cultural norms prioritize social harmony and avoid public disruption. When large numbers of people take to the streets, it almost always signals a profound, widespread unease with the direction of national policy. At the core of the current debate is nothing less than Japan’s core national identity, forged in the aftermath of the destruction of World War II.

When Japan enacted its post-war constitution in 1947, it included the landmark Article 9, a constitutional clause that prohibits the country from maintaining standing armed forces and formally renounces war as a tool of sovereign policy. Over the decades, the clause has been reinterpreted to allow for a limited self-defense force, but its core pacifist principle has remained a cornerstone of Japanese governance for nearly 80 years.

Takaichi argues that this post-war framework no longer matches modern geopolitical reality. Geographically, Japan is situated in one of the world’s most tense regions, facing an increasingly assertive China, an unpredictable nuclear-armed North Korea, and ongoing territorial tensions with Russia. Additionally, the United States — Japan’s closest security ally — has long pushed Tokyo to take on a larger security role in the Indo-Pacific.

Takaichi is not the first Japanese conservative leader to push for revisions to the post-war security order. For decades, leaders from the ruling Liberal Democratic Party have campaigned to amend the 1947 constitution. Former Prime Minister Shinzo Abe was one of the most prominent advocates for revising Article 9 to formalize the legal status of Japan’s self-defense forces, and in 2015, his administration pushed through a controversial set of security bills that expanded the military’s scope to allow limited collective self-defense, enabling Japan to support allied nations that come under attack.

But it was the April 21 decision to lift the decades-long ban on lethal arms exports that crossed a red line for many Japanese citizens, striking a raw national nerve and catalyzing the current wave of protests. After the passing of the rain, when sunlight broke through the clouds over Tokyo, the crowd of demonstrators outside the prime minister’s office only grew larger, their chants for peace growing louder with every new arrival.

This movement is not limited to older generations who hold direct memories of war. A large share of protesters are people in their 20s and 30s, who will bear the long-term consequences of any shift in national security policy. “I’m angry that these changes could be made without properly listening to us, the public,” said Akari Maezono, a 30-something protester who carried brightly painted paper lanterns emblazoned with peace slogans. Nearby, an older demonstrator held a bright red banner, declaring, “The Japanese constitution, Article 9 in particular, must be protected at all costs. It kept Japan from being drawn into past conflicts like the US-Iran war. Without it, we surely would have entered the war by now.”

Japan’s 1947 constitution was drafted just two years after the end of World War II, which ended with the United States dropping atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki that killed an estimated 200,000 Japanese civilians by the end of 1945. For supporters, Article 9’s pacifist principle represented a critical moral break from Japan’s pre-war and wartime militarism, a commitment to never again repeat the devastation of aggressive conflict.

Even from its earliest days, however, Article 9 was controversial. Critics have long argued that the clause was effectively imposed by the United States during the post-war occupation, rather than arising from domestic Japanese consensus. During the Cold War, security analysts also raised concerns that the clause left Japan vulnerable to Soviet expansion in Asia.

But for millions of Japanese, especially survivors of the atomic bombings and their families, any move away from pacifism sparks deep-seated fear. Earlier this year, Hiroshima atomic bomb survivors (known locally as hibakusha) addressed the United Nations at the 2026 Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty review conference, calling for global nuclear abolition and a world free from war. “Nuclear weapons were used because we went to war,” said Jiro Hamasumi, a hibakusha who spoke at the event. “No more war, no more hibakusha,” he added.

The wave of protests has spread far beyond Tokyo, with large rallies now organized in other major Japanese cities including Osaka, Kyoto, and Fukuoka. Attendance at demonstrations has grown week over week, with social media platforms like X playing a critical role in helping younger organizers spread information and bring new participants into the movement.

Despite the large turnout for anti-war protests, public opinion across Japan remains deeply divided on the future of the country’s pacifist framework. Recent public opinion polls have produced conflicting results: some show growing support for a stronger Japanese military to address modern regional threats, while others record clear majority opposition to eroding Article 9.

Proponents of constitutional and security change argue that Japan’s security environment has fundamentally shifted since 1947, and the old framework is no longer fit for purpose. They argue that Article 9 places unjustifiable limits on Japan’s sovereignty, and that the country must be able to deter potential aggression, support allied partners, and respond proactively to regional crises. For supporters, expanding the military’s role is not a rejection of pacifism, but a necessary adaptation to keep Japan safe in an increasingly volatile world.

Opponents, however, warn that incremental policy changes are slowly hollowing out Article 9’s core pacifist commitment. They argue that loosening restrictions on arms exports and expanding the military’s overseas role will inevitably draw Japan into foreign conflicts that do not serve its national interest. For many opponents, Article 9 is far more than a legal regulation — it is a core moral commitment, forged from the ashes of World War II, that has kept Japan at peace for generations.

The deep national divide is visible even in small, everyday interactions. During a recent protest in Tokyo, a convenience store cashier near the demonstration route summed up the split with a mixture of impatience and conviction: “They’re always here,” he said of the protesters, before adding, “It’s time for a new Japan.”

That is exactly the choice now facing the Japanese people: whether to hold fast to the pacifist national identity shaped by the trauma of the past, or to remake the country’s security framework to adapt to an increasingly unstable global future. In a nation where political change has historically come gradually and cautiously, the question now is not just what path Japan will choose, but how quickly the country will make that fateful decision.