Trump pledges $10 billion U.S. contribution to new ‘Board of Peace’

February 20, 2026

Trump says US to give $10bn to new 'Board of Peace' — The meeting is taking place at the US Institute of Peace

Inside the Board of Peace: A Washington Showcase, Gaza at Its Heart, and a World Holding Its Breath

The atrium of the old United States Institute of Peace — a cream-walled, glass-canopied landmark off Pennsylvania Avenue — felt, for a few hours, like the set of a modern diplomatic experiment.

Delegations filed past one another beneath banners that read “Board of Peace” as if the phrase itself might conjure calm. Cameras clicked. Flags arranged in a semicircle made for dramatic photographs. At the lectern, President Donald Trump announced a $10 billion commitment to a new global initiative, promising the money would help rebuild Gaza and prevent another cycle of bloodshed.

“Together we can achieve the dream of bringing lasting harmony to a region tortured by centuries of war and suffering,” he said, voice rolling through the room. “It’s all about an easy word to say, but a hard word to produce — peace.”

What followed was equal parts policy and spectacle: the promise of tens of billions, a board with unusual governance rules, and a lineup of partners that shaded the meeting with controversy. Outside the bright windowed walls, the world kept moving in the uneasy rhythms of geopolitics — warships repositioned in the region, emissaries made discreet trips to Tehran, and millions of people in the Middle East continued to ask whether peace would ever reach their streets.

Money, Membership, and the Mysteries in Between

The headline figure was simple and startling: $10 billion. It is a sizable pledge, particularly from a White House that has overseen deep cuts to foreign assistance in recent years.

But the promise raised as many questions as it did hopes. The Board of Peace is, by design and decree, an opaque institution. The president will hold veto power over its decisions and can remain its head even after leaving office; countries wishing to convert a standard two-year membership into a permanent seat must pay $1 billion. How that structure will shape decision-making — and whose priorities it will reflect — is a subject of immediate debate.

“Giving a single leader such authority over post-conflict reconstruction is unprecedented in modern practice,” said Dr. Leila Mansour, a Middle East specialist based in Istanbul. “Governance matters as much as money. Without clear, inclusive oversight, billions can disappear into politics.”

Critics pointed to the guest list: many of those seated alongside the United States were leaders whose domestic records tilt toward centralized control rather than liberal democratic norms. Noticeably absent were several European governments that traditionally partner with Washington on humanitarian and peacebuilding initiatives.

“It looks less like a broad coalition and more like a curated club,” said Elena Russo, a veteran aid official who has worked in Gaza and the West Bank. “Reconstruction requires not just finance but legitimacy on the ground. People must trust the actors — and right now, trust is thin.”

Gaza: Rubble, Resilience, and a Technocratic Gamble

The Board’s first public focus is Gaza: a coastal strip left scarred by two years of intense conflict and an October that no one in the region will forget. The tragedy of 7 October 2023 — the day Hamas’s mass attack upended long-standing security calculations — and the subsequent Israeli offensive have reshaped daily life in Gaza. According to Gaza’s health ministry, at least 601 people have been killed since the ceasefire entered its second phase; hospitals remain fragile, and many neighborhoods are still piles of concrete and twisted metal.

“You can walk through a market and smell lemon and diesel and dust — all at once,” said Samar, a Gaza resident and mother of three, who asked that only her first name be used. “We are waiting for something real, not just words. People need homes, jobs, schools. But safety comes first. How can we build when guns are nearby?”

Responding to that anguished question, the Board has put a heavy emphasis on demilitarization. Israel, for its part, has insisted on stringent conditions: no reconstruction until Hamas is disarmed. Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu told a military ceremony that he had agreed with the United States that “there will be no reconstruction of Gaza before the demilitarisation of Gaza.” That stance echoes through conversations in Jerusalem and Gaza alike.

At the same time, a technocratic committee — led by engineer and former official Ali Shaath — has been named to manage day-to-day governance in Gaza. Whether that interim team can reconcile the demands of residents, the security prerogatives of Israel, and the geopolitical aims of outside powers is an open question.

Security on the Ground: An International Stabilisation Force

The Board will also consider launching an International Stabilisation Force (ISF) to provide security in Gaza as reconstruction gets underway. Indonesia — the world’s largest Muslim-majority country — has offered to play a central role. Major General Jasper Jeffers announced that Indonesia had accepted a deputy commander position, and Jakarta has indicated willingness to send up to 8,000 troops if the force is confirmed. Morocco has also signaled troop contributions.

“We are ready to help stabilize Gaza so people can return to some normal life,” Indonesian President Prabowo Subianto said in Washington. “This is not about taking sides; it is about holding the line for human security.”

For many Gaza residents, however, the idea of foreign boots on the ground stirs mixed feelings. Some welcome the prospect of protection against renewed hostilities; others fear occupation by another name.

Tensions with Iran and the Broader Chessboard

As the Board convened, U.S. forces — including warplanes and aircraft carriers — were reportedly repositioned toward Iran, a reminder that diplomacy here moves in parallel with pressure. The administration dispatched two envoys to speak with Iran’s top diplomat, seeking concessions that range from nuclear constraints to regional behavior.

“We have to make a meaningful deal otherwise bad things happen,” the president warned, adding that if diplomacy falters, Washington “may have to take it a step further.” A timeline of roughly ten days was floated, underscoring how precarious the moment feels.

Whether the Board’s ambitions can survive a broader escalation is uncertain. Peace plans do not exist in a vacuum; they are lodged inside networks of power, rivalries, and domestic politics across the region and beyond.

What This Means for the Future — and for You

There is much to admire in the impulse behind the Board of Peace: billions of dollars, international commitments, and a stated focus on stabilizing a living, breathing population suffering enormous trauma. But the model being proposed — a highly centralized board with opaque governance and a roster of partners skewed toward autocratic regimes — forces uncomfortable questions.

Who will set priorities on the ground: technocrats, residents, or foreign capitals?
Can reconstruction proceed without meaningful political inclusion for Palestinians?
What are the safeguards to prevent funds from becoming tools of influence rather than instruments of recovery?

Journalists, aid workers, and diplomats I spoke with kept returning to one idea: that peace must be more than a top-down checkbox. “Rebuilding homes without rebuilding trust is like pouring concrete over a wound,” said Dr. Mansour. “It holds for a while, but it doesn’t heal.”

So, readers: what would you expect from a genuine peace process? Whom would you trust with billions aimed at rebuilding lives? The answers matter because the world beyond Washington is watching. Gaza’s future — and the future of how international politics conducts itself — will be shaped in the months ahead, not just by pledges, but by the choices of leaders, the resilience of communities, and the willingness of outside powers to share authority rather than centralize it.

In a hall that day, photographs were taken, speeches were recorded, and a new institution was christened. But on the ground, in alleys still choked with dust and in neighborhoods waiting for electricity to hold, the work of peace will be measured in bricks, not photo ops. The real test is simple and brutal: when the cameras go away, will people have roofs over their heads, schools for their children, and a chance at ordinary days? If not, the Board of Peace risks joining a long list of good-sounding ideas that never quite made it to the street level where peace must live.

Israeli military operations spark fears of ethnic cleansing across Gaza

hanad

February 20, 2026

UN: Israeli actions raise ethnic cleansing fears in Gaza — Displaced Palestinians seen making their way through rubble in the Sheikh Radwan neighbourhood earlier this month

They’re Not Just Numbers: Gaza, the West Bank, and the Quiet Logic of Erasure

The air in Gaza has memories in it—the tang of cooking fires that no longer burn, the metallic aftertaste of dust that settles into everything, the hollow echo of a child’s laugh you don’t quite hear anymore. Walk down any street in Gaza City and you will find a story of survival scrawled across concrete: an upright doorframe standing alone between slabs of rubble, a burned refrigerator on a sidewalk, a faded school backpack draped over a collapsed wall.

These are the human traces that recent international findings say are not just incidental by-products of war. They point to a pattern—an accelerating reconfiguration of space and lives that the United Nations human rights office has warned could amount to ethnic cleansing across Gaza and the occupied West Bank.

What the UN Found

Between 1 November 2024 and 31 October 2025, the UN rights office documented a catalogue of actions that, taken together, have profound consequences for the Palestinian population. The report does not speak in metaphors: it says intensified attacks, systematic destruction of neighborhoods and restrictions on aid have produced living conditions “increasingly incompatible with Palestinians’ continued existence as a group in Gaza.” It calls forcible transfers and demographic engineering “deeply concerning.”

“Impunity is not abstract — it kills,” Volker Türk, the UN rights chief, said when the report was released. “Accountability is indispensable. It is the prerequisite for a just and durable peace in Palestine and Israel.”

On the Ground: The Human Cost

The numbers the UN highlights are stark and intimate at once. During the year under review, at least 463 Palestinians—157 of them children—died of starvation in Gaza, the report says. For many families, the choice was excruciatingly binary: stay and slowly starve, or brave the killing zones in search of food.

An aid worker who requested anonymity told me: “I have seen parents hand over the last scrap of bread to their children and then hide in a corner, refusing to eat. They do it so their kids might survive another day.”

463 people reported to have died of starvation in Gaza (including 157 children), UN human rights office
UN report covers 1 Nov 2024 – 31 Oct 2025
Lancet study estimated around 75,000 violent deaths in Gaza from Oct 2023 to Jan 2024, plus ~8,000 excess non-violent deaths

Beyond Bombs: A Strategy of Displacement?

What separates this crisis from the many conflicts that rage around the world is not just the scale of destruction but the pattern officials say it reveals: deliberate, methodical efforts to change who lives where. The report accuses Israeli forces of the “systematic use of unlawful force” in the West Bank and East Jerusalem, and cites extensive, unlawful demolitions and widespread arbitrary detentions.

Bezalel Smotrich, Israel’s far-right finance minister, added fuel to the debate publicly when he spoke of encouraging “emigration” from the Palestinian territories—comments that critics say echo a longstanding settler logic that treats the West Bank as territory to be absorbed rather than as the heartland of a future Palestinian state.

“We are witnessing acts that do not simply aim to win a battle,” said Dr. Laila Haddad, a political anthropologist who has studied displacement for two decades. “They aim to redraw the map of daily life—by depopulating towns, undermining infrastructure, and making return practically impossible.”

The Legal Line

International law frames certain practices—starvation of civilians, forcible transfer, and systematic targeting of a protected population—as potential war crimes, and under some circumstances, elements of genocide. The UN report explicitly raises these alarms. If civilians are starved deliberately as a method of warfare, it is a crime. If population shifts are engineered to remove a particular group from their homes, other legal thresholds are crossed.

Israel’s mission in Geneva rejected the UN’s characterization, accusing the office of “a vicious campaign of demonisation and disinformation,” and arguing that accountability should also apply to Palestinian leaders and armed groups. Hamas and other groups continue to hold hostages seized in the October 2023 attacks; the UN report also condemns their treatment as war crimes.

Counting the Dead: A Body of Evidence

Counting bodies is never merely a statistical exercise. A peer-reviewed analysis published in The Lancet found that between October 2023 and January of the following year, more than 75,000 people in Gaza died violently—far above official tallies. Its authors estimated an additional roughly 8,000 excess non-violent deaths, and noted a margin of error of about ±12,000 for the violent death estimate.

“We can say, with great confidence, that existing official figures are underestimates,” Prof. Michael Spagat told RTÉ. “If anything, the ministry of health’s data is an undercount.” He added that roughly 56% of violent deaths were women, children, or elderly—underscoring that entire families, not solely combatants, have been caught in the carnage.

Voices from the Rubble

Standing amid the ruins of a neighborhood once known for its morning bustle, a woman named Amina (not her real name) traced a pattern in the cracks of her shattered wall. “The people who did this to us think we will leave,” she said, her voice steady yet soft. “But we are still here. We bury our dead. We remember. That is our resistance.”

Nearby, a young teacher, Khaled, held a singed children’s workbook. “There are no schools now,” he said. “But children still ask about math, about maps. They want to know where they are. Make no mistake: knowing one’s map is how a people refuses to disappear.”

Why This Matters to the World

Why should a reader thousands of miles away care? Because this is where global questions about human rights, accountability, and the limits of military power meet the most basic human truths: every child deserves food; every family deserves a home. The patterns observed in Gaza and the West Bank are not isolated anomalies. They intersect with global trends—rising impunity, the weaponization of aid, and the demographic politics of territorial conflict.

What would justice look like here? What does accountability actually require—legal processes, political pressure, reparations, guarantees of safe return? And how do we, as a global community, prevent the normalization of conditions that amount to the slow erasure of a people?

Where We Go From Here

For now, families put one foot in front of the other. Aid convoys still arrive, sometimes. Lawyers and investigators collect testimony. Academics publish studies that try to convert grief into data. And international institutions issue reports that, for some, feel lifelessly bureaucratic; for others, they are the thin rope of evidence to hold those in power to account.

“If the world ignores what’s happening here because the news cycle moves on, we will be complicit in a slow, grinding erasure,” Dr. Haddad warned. “The cost of silence is measured in human lives.”

So I ask you, reader: when headlines fade, how should we remember what we have been told? Whose stories will we carry forward? And what will we do with that knowledge?

Trump sets ‘maximum’ 15-day deadline for Iran to clinch deal

hanad

February 20, 2026

Trump sees 'maximum' 15 days for Iran to make deal — Donald Trump warned that the US may have to take it further if there was no agreement with Iran

A Fifteen-Day Ultimatum: Washington’s Clock, Tehran’s Uncertainty

There are moments in geopolitics that feel less like news and more like weather warnings: the skies darken, alarms sound, and everyone waits to see if the storm will pass or land with force. Last week, aboard Air Force One, President Donald Trump put a stopwatch on the latest chapter of U.S.–Iran tensions, saying bluntly that Tehran had “ten, 15 days, pretty much maximum” to reach a deal—or face consequences.

“We’re either going to get a deal or it’s going to be unfortunate for them,” he told reporters, then added, with chilling brevity, that the United States “may have to take it a step further” without an agreement. “You’re going to be finding out over the next probably ten days,” he said—words that landed like pebbles in a still pond, rippling far beyond the White House lawn.

What’s at Stake: More than a Nuclear Countdown

At face value, the ultimatum centers on Iran’s nuclear program—an issue that has dominated Middle East diplomacy for decades. But this is not just a technical argument about centrifuges and enrichment levels. It’s a knot of domestic repression, regional rivalry, global non-proliferation fears, and the personal politics of leaders facing pressure at home.

Iran has rebuilt parts of its nuclear infrastructure since the 2015 agreement known as the JCPOA unraveled, enriching uranium to levels far higher than the pact allowed. International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) reports over recent years flagged enrichment that reached as high as 60% purity, a worrying technical leap much closer to weapons-grade material than the 3–5% used for civilian power. Experts say that such advances shorten what analysts call “breakout time” — the period it might take a country to amass fissile material for a weapon — from many months to potentially a matter of weeks.

But the clock ticking in Washington also measures something else: political will. “An ultimatum is an instrument of pressure, not a plan,” said Rana Mahmoud, a regional security analyst based in Amman. “If you set a 10–15 day deadline, you need credible diplomatic options that don’t end in fire.”

Back Channels and Geneva Coffee

Diplomacy, oddly enough, still moves in whispers and detours. The president’s own friends and envoys have been prowling the margins of formal talks: Jared Kushner and developer-turned-envoy Steve Witkoff were reported to have engaged indirectly—via intermediaries—in Geneva with senior Iranian diplomats. Officials close to the conversations suggested both sides were probing whether an off-ramp exists.

“We’re testing signals,” said a U.S. official who agreed to speak on background. “Not giving anything away, just trying to see if anyone wants to step back from the brink.”

In Tehran, the reception to any overture is colored by recent trauma. Last month, security forces brutally suppressed nationwide protests, an upheaval that human rights organizations say was met with lethal force. Estimates of casualties vary widely; some rights groups speak of hundreds killed, others of higher tolls. For many Iranians, any talk of external deals is inseparable from the memory of bodies in hospital corridors and families who remain unaccounted for.

“You can’t ignore what happened here,” said Leila, a teacher in Shiraz who declined to give her last name. “We are under siege at home—how can our leaders make deals that might trade away our future without asking us?”

Local Color: The Soundtrack of Anxiety

Walk through Tehran’s bazaars, through the electric clutter of Tehran’s neighborhoods, and you hear a mixture of cynicism, fear, and weary humor. Shopkeepers trade jokes about fuel shortages and credit lines. Younger Iranians, who went to the streets in droves last year, speak in short, intense bursts about freedom. Older men sip tea and watch satellite news from Turkey or the Gulf, switching channels for a fuller picture.

“The country is resilient,” said a taxi driver near Haft-e-Tir square. “But people are tired—tired of sanctions, tired of promises. When the leaders make deals, they must think about bread as well as prestige.”

Voices from the Region: Allies, Rivals, and the Fear of Escalation

Across the region, leaders are watching closely. Israel has long viewed Tehran’s nuclear ambitions as an existential threat. In Washington, Senator Marco Rubio—an influential voice on Republican foreign policy—was slated to travel to Israel for consultations with Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, who has advocated a hard line on Iran for years.

“Our goal is deterrence, not war,” said an Israeli security advisor, speaking on condition of anonymity. “But deterrence requires clarity—if clarity is a deadline, then it must be followed by realistic pressure and international cooperation.”

Even allies worry that a unilateral timetable risks unintended consequences. The U.S. carries with it the most powerful military in the world, but geography and public opinion complicate any choice to use force. A conflict with Iran would ripple across global oil markets, threaten shipping lanes in the Gulf, and risk a cascade of proxy clashes in Lebanon, Syria, and Iraq.

Experts Weigh In: Is a Deal Possible in Two Weeks?

Two weeks is a long time for a vacation, and a blink for diplomacy. “You can’t stitch together a comprehensive, enforceable nuclear deal in 10–15 days,” said Dr. Miriam Cole, a non-proliferation scholar at an American university. “What you can do is set terms for immediate confidence-building measures—limited inspections, a freeze on certain enrichment activities, or humanitarian carve-outs. But such steps require trust, and trust is precisely what has been eroded.”

Other analysts argue that deadlines can be useful for creating political urgency. “Sometimes a hard line cuts through indecision,” said Thomas Alawi, a former diplomat. “But it’s a risky tactic. If the other side calls the bluff, the consequences can be catastrophic.”

Choices, Consequences, and the Larger Picture

So what happens next? The possibilities stretch from skilled diplomacy to unwanted conflict. The United States could extend negotiations, rally international partners, and use sanctions and incentives to shape Tehran’s behavior. Or it could move toward military options—a dangerous path where miscalculation is almost guaranteed. The international community, including the European Union, China, and Russia, will watch and react in ways that could either restrain or accelerate the cycle.

There is also a human story beneath the summitry: families who fear conscription, women who demand freedom, and a generation of Iranians who want to be part of the global economy rather than locked into a perpetual standoff. How much of that human reality will factor into decisions made in ornate rooms and secure briefing centers?

What Would You Do?

This is where you, the reader, should feel the weight. If you were an adviser in the Room, would you press for immediate military options to stop a perceived threat, or would you champion patient bargaining and international coalitions—knowing the risks both carry? Would a two-week deadline galvanize action, or accelerate disaster?

Everyone involved is answering that question in real time. The air is thick with fear and possibility. In the coming days, as leaders issue statements and envoys shuttle between capitals, we will see whether diplomacy finds a narrow lane—or whether the narrative turns toward a confrontation that could reshape a troubled region for years to come.

Quick snapshot: what to watch in the next 10–15 days

Any agreed confidence-building measures (inspections, freeze on enrichment).
Movement of envoys—direct or indirect—between Washington, Geneva, Tehran, and regional capitals.
Public statements from Israel, Gulf states, and European partners indicating either support for negotiation or pressure for action.
On-the-ground developments in Iran, particularly related to civilian unrest and human rights monitoring.

What we’re witnessing is not only a diplomatic standoff but a story about how nations measure risk, how leaders balance bravado and caution, and how the lives of ordinary people become entwined with decisions made in distant rooms. Ten, fifteen days: for some, a deadline; for others, an urgent call to choose between escalation and the patient, painstaking work of peace.

Macron urges Meloni to refrain from commenting on activist killing

hanad

February 20, 2026

Macron warns Meloni against comment on activist killing — Demonstrators hold portraits during a rally in tribute to Quentin Deranque

When a City’s Quiet Morning Became a Mirror for Europe’s Divisions

On an ordinary morning in Lyon—where the scent of coffee drifts from narrow bouchons and students weave through the city’s stone passageways—the world tilted a little. A political demonstration outside a university turned deadly when 23-year-old Quentin Deranque was beaten so severely that he died of head injuries. The shock of that loss has rippled far beyond the Rhône, stirring old wounds and new arguments across Europe.

For anyone who knows Lyon, the contrast is striking. This is a city of silk merchants and film festivals, of hilltop views from Fourvière and riverside promenades where joggers pass under plane trees. The idea that violence of this kind could erupt there—near lecture halls and cafés where young people debate late into the night—felt like a betrayal to many who live here.

The Incident

According to investigators, Deranque, 23, was attacked by at least six people on the sidelines of a far-right demonstration at a university. Eleven people—eight men and three women—have been taken into custody and questioned. A source close to the inquiry says most of those detained are linked to far-left movements. Prosecutors have asked judges to charge seven men with intentional homicide and to keep them in custody, citing the risk of further disturbance to public order.

“We have asked for the strongest possible measures,” a prosecutor said at a press briefing, underscoring the seriousness with which the judiciary is treating the case.

Facts at a Glance

Victim: Quentin Deranque, 23, died of head injuries after the attack.
Suspects: 11 detained (8 men, 3 women); prosecutors requested intentional homicide charges for 7.
Reported assailants: at least six people involved; some suspects allegedly connected to far-left groups.
Political context: tensions ahead of municipal elections and the 2027 presidential race.

From Lyon to Rome to New Delhi: Political Reverberations

The killing landed in the middle of a political storm. Italy’s Prime Minister, Giorgia Meloni, spoke publicly—expressing shock and solidarity—prompting a sharp retort from France’s President Emmanuel Macron while he was on an official visit to India. Macron told reporters that foreign leaders should refrain from commenting on the internal affairs of other countries. The exchange, brisk and pointed, illuminated how a single tragic event can be refracted through national politics and international sensitivities.

Rome’s foreign minister weighed in too, invoking painful chapters of Italian history: a reminder, he said, that violence has its ghosts and that Europe must guard against a return to dark times. “There have been many Quentins in our history,” he wrote, alluding to the violent “Years of Lead” that haunted Italy for decades.

Back in Paris, officials emphasized that France cannot tolerate movements that embrace violence. “Nothing justifies violent action—neither on one side nor the other,” a presidential aide said, echoing a plea for calm and a measured legal response.

On the Ground in Lyon

Walk through the university quarter where the attack occurred and you’ll hear the city speaking in hushed, urgent tones. A first-year literature student, who asked not to be named, said she felt a new fragility. “We used to argue loudly about politics over cheap wine and croissants,” she told me. “Now when people gather, there’s always someone checking exits.”

A nearby café owner, whose family has run the place for three generations, wiped tears when she spoke about Quentin. “He would come sometimes to study,” she said. “Young, loud, always sure of himself. This is not the city we want to be.”

Local councilors likewise sounded worried about the climate of confrontation. “This is not an isolated incident. It’s a symptom,” one told me. “Social media sharpens everything; allegiances harden; young people get swept up in fights that have echoes from other countries.”

Voices and Reactions

Not all reactions were the same. Quentin’s family, through their lawyer, called for restraint. “The family condemns any call for violence. Any form of political violence,” their lawyer said in a public statement, urging that grief not be weaponized by political factions.

At the same time, far-right leaders saw the killing as proof of their warnings about the radical left. “This attack shows where the violent fringe ends and society begins to fracture,” a National Rally spokesperson said, framing the death as a political fault line. On the other side, grassroots activists argued that the focus must be on a fair investigation rather than immediate politicization. “We need justice, not headlines,” a left-wing organizer told me quietly, tired from days of interviews.

Why This Matters Beyond France

Think about the image of universities as spaces for debate and discovery. When campuses become flashpoints for violence, the loss is not merely individual—it’s civic. It affects how young people see politics, how communities trust institutions, and how neighbors discuss safety and belonging.

Across Europe, elections and governance are being tested by surging polarization. In France, municipal elections are approaching, and the 2027 presidential race looms large—two moments when social fractures can widen into political chasms. When parties frame incidents like this through partisan lenses, they risk amplifying tensions rather than letting institutions handle the facts and the law.

Public safety statistics show that politically motivated violence, while a small fraction of overall crime, has disproportionately large effects on political discourse, draining public trust and accelerating cycles of retribution. Experts warn that social media accelerants—echo chambers, viral outrage, and performative solidarity—can turn crimes into causes overnight.

Questions We’re Left With

How should democracies respond when the line between protest and violence blurs? Can a society hold both a full-throated defense of free speech and a steadfast refusal of brutality? And how do we stop grief from being harnessed into further conflict?

These are not merely French questions. They are European—and global—questions about how communities process trauma, how justice systems respond without being politicized, and how political leaders choose rhetoric that cools or inflames.

Looking Forward

The judicial process will move at its own pace. The investigation is ongoing. Prosecutors have asked for severe charges and continued custody for the suspects. Meanwhile, politicians will continue to spar. Citizens and families will continue to grieve. And Lyon will continue to live, to argue, to feed its students and mend its streets.

“We cannot let fear become the new normal,” a local schoolteacher told me, tying the personal to the civic. “If we do, then those who profit from division will have won.”

As you read from wherever you are—whether in a city of canals, in a village, or on another continent—ask yourself: when a tragedy happens in a place far from home, what responsibility do we have to listen without deciding too quickly? How do we stand in solidarity without hijacking someone else’s pain for our own agendas?

For Lyon, for Quentin, and for communities everywhere, the answers will matter. The danger is not only in a single violent act, but in what we, collectively, make of it.

eBay to acquire Depop for $1.2B in push for Gen Z shoppers

hanad

February 19, 2026

Ebay to buy Depop for $1.2bn as it targets Gen Z shoppers — The Depop deal is expected to close in the second quarter of this year

When Vintage Meets Volume: eBay’s $1.2 Billion Bet on Depop and the Future of Pre‑Loved Fashion

There’s a photograph that’s been doing the rounds in my inbox: a sunlit East London bedroom, a carefully curated rack of 90s windbreakers, a handwritten shop name taped to the wall. It looks like a small business. It also looks like a social feed—an aesthetic, a brand, a community. That rack, those photos and the person behind them are precisely what eBay just paid $1.2 billion to own.

In a deal announced this winter, eBay is acquiring Depop, the London-born app that turned buying second‑hand clothes into a social pastime for millions of young people. Etsy, which bought Depop for $1.62 billion five years ago, is selling the platform to eBay as it refocuses its own strategy. The handover, expected to complete in the second quarter of 2026, marks another chapter in the rapid remixing of fashion, commerce and culture.

Not Just Commerce—Culture

Depop isn’t a traditional marketplace; it’s a stage for identity. Founded in 2011 on a mixture of thrift, DIY ethos and Instagram-era aesthetics, it became the place where Gen Z sellers—often still students or first-time entrepreneurs—could turn closets into storefronts. By the end of last year Depop reported seven million active buyers, almost 90% of them under 34. U.S. sales surged nearly 60% over the past year alone, testament to its cross‑Atlantic pull.

“It’s not about resale, it’s about storytelling,” says Maya Nwosu, 24, who runs a Depop store from Dalston that mixes vintage Levi’s with upcycled patchwork. “When someone buys a jacket from me, they’re buying the look, the message, the ‘who I am’—and that’s not something a generic listing can give you.”

Depop’s appeal is twofold: sustainability and social currency. For many buyers the thrill is partly moral—saving garments from landfill—and partly aspirational. A jacket found on a platform like Depop carries provenance: who styled it, how it was reworked, the little comment thread under the listing where buyers and sellers exchange tips. That blend of ethics and aesthetic is exactly why eBay has been willing to pay a premium.

Why eBay?

At first glance, the acquisition might look like a corporate reunion. eBay has long been a C2C marketplace legacy player; Depop is the cool kid. The marriage promises scale and structure for Depop, and a younger audience for eBay.

“Depop has built a trusted, social‑forward marketplace with strong momentum in the pre‑loved fashion category,” said eBay’s CEO, in a statement accompanying the deal. “As part of eBay, Depop will be better positioned for long‑term growth.” The gist is clear: eBay wants Gen Z, and Gen Z wants pre‑loved fashion presented like a narrative rather than a transaction.

Industry analysts point to a broader trend. The global resale market has been accelerating, driven by a generational shift toward thrifting and a growing awareness of fashion’s environmental toll. Analysts estimate the sector will remain a major growth engine for retail over the next five years, as brands, platforms and consumers wrestle with both opportunity and responsibility.

Voices On the Ground

Not everyone greets consolidation with optimism. “I started Depop because I wanted independence,” says Leila Ortiz, a 28‑year‑old seller based in Los Angeles who builds audiences through styling videos. “If a giant like eBay takes over, I worry about fees, discoverability and whether the community vibe will get smoothed out.” Her concern is common: behind every marketplace are tens of thousands of microentrepreneurs who depend on visibility and authenticity.

There are hopeful voices too. “Scale can mean better logistics, safer payments, and more buyer protection,” says Rafael Kim, a retail analyst who has followed e-commerce for a decade. “For buyers and sellers, that could translate to more cross-border sales, faster shipping and fewer scams. The trick is preserving Depop’s cultural DNA while applying operational muscle.”

What Might Change—and What Shouldn’t

The companies say Depop will “retain its name, brand, platform and culture.” That’s reassuring, but also a delicate promise. The details matter: Will search algorithms prioritize curated feeds over sponsored posts? Will seller fees change? How will data be shared between platforms? Those are the real-world things that alter livelihoods.

For Sellers: Expect questions about fees, fulfillment options, and discoverability. Some will gain access to eBay’s broader logistical network.
For Buyers: Look for potential improvements in payment options, buyer protections, and international shipping—but also the risk that more commercialized listings appear in your feed.
For the Industry: The acquisition underscores how big tech views resale not as a niche but as mainstream retail strategy; competition will intensify.

More Than Fashion: A Mirror on Consumer Values

This transaction is a prism into larger themes. Young people are shaping markets by demanding sustainability and uniqueness. Platforms are evolving from mere storefronts to cultural hubs. At the same time, consolidation raises questions about power: who controls the marketplaces that now double as communities?

“If brands and platforms don’t respect the creators and sellers who built these spaces, they risk alienating the very people who made their products desirable,” says Dr. Amina Patel, a sociologist who studies digital markets. “There’s a tension between scaling a platform and keeping it intimate. That tension will define how meaningful these marketplaces are in the long run.”

Looking Ahead: What to Watch

As the deal closes in Q2, pay attention to a few things that will reveal whether this is integration or assimilation:

Changes to seller fee structures and promotional tools.
New logistics and fulfillment partnerships that affect shipping times and costs.
Product and UX updates—especially whether Depop’s social feed and community features remain central.
How both companies communicate changes to the seller community—transparency will be crucial.

A Question for the Reader

Will scale and culture find a balance? If you buy second‑hand clothing, do you value the intimacy of a creator-run shop over the conveniences of a larger marketplace? Where do you draw the line between growth and preservation?

This acquisition is more than a financial transaction. It’s a bet on how people will shop—and on how identity and sustainability will be commodified, curated and circulated in the years to come. For the sellers hanging their latest finds in sunlit rooms and for the buyers hunting for pieces that feel like stories, the outcome matters. So does the question of what we, as consumers, are willing to trade in the name of convenience.

Whether you see eBay’s move as a savvy consolidation or a cold corporate takeover, one thing is clear: the second‑hand economy is no longer an afterthought. It’s mainstream, it’s growing, and it’s rewriting how we think about ownership, value and style.

Former South Korean President Given Life Sentence Over Insurrection Plot

hanad

February 19, 2026

Life term for ex-South Korean leader in insurrection case — Supporters of former president Yoon Suk Yeol watch a live stream of the trial near the courthouse in Seoul

Seoul’s Sun Sets on a Presidency: The Day Martial Law Became a Crime

The courthouse square in central Seoul felt like the hinge of a nation — a place where history turned, creaked, and finally swung shut. Outside the Seoul Central District Court, thousands swelled into a human tide: some chanting, some praying, some crying into scarves as a blue prison bus snaked through barricades toward the court gates.

Placards bobbed like small, stubborn ships in a restless sea. “Yoon Great Again” read some, while others demanded, “Drop the charge against President Yoon.” Neon-jacketed police formed rings around the complex; buses were parked as a makeshift fortification. The air tasted faintly of winter and of reckoning.

Inside, the judge’s words landed with the heaviness of finality. Presiding Judge Ji Gwi-yeon told the court that Yoon Suk Yeol, a former star prosecutor turned hardline conservative president, had sent troops to the National Assembly with the intent “to paralyse the assembly for a considerable period.” The court found that the televised declaration of martial law on 3 December 2024 had been an insurrection — a deliberate attempt to silence political opposition — and sentenced the 65-year-old to life in prison.

The Six Hours That Shook a Republic

That televised address in early December was brief but seismic. Yoon, speaking late at night, invoked vaguely defined “anti-state forces” and threats of foreign meddling — rhetoric heavy with old fears. He declared civilian government suspended and military rule imposed. For six volatile hours, South Korea seemed to teeter on the edge of a return to a darker chapter of its past.

Politicians in the Assembly staged an impromptu resistance: staff pushed office furniture against doors, lawmakers held an emergency vote, and ordinary citizens poured into the streets. The declaration was lifted after roughly six hours, but the social shockwaves lingered. The stock market stumbled, allies in Washington blinked in surprise, and hundreds of thousands across the peninsula watched and waited.

“I watched with my mother — we thought it was a bad dream,” said Kim Ji-eun, a 42-year-old café owner near Gwanghwamun. “My mother remembered the coups from her youth. We never wanted to live through that again.”

From Prosecutor to President to Prisoner

Yoon’s meteoric rise was once a symbol of aspiration: a prosecutor who took on the powerful, later catapulted to the presidency on a platform of toughness and national security. But prosecutors now portrayed him as a man whose “lust for power” led to an attempted dictatorship. They even sought the death penalty during the January hearings — a request lodged against the backdrop of South Korea’s unofficial moratorium on executions; the last legal executions in the country took place in 1997.

The court’s life sentence, critics argue, marks an extraordinary moment for a country long seen as one of Asia’s more stable democracies. Yoon’s legal troubles did not begin with the martial law declaration; he had already been given a five-year sentence in a separate case and was facing multiple trials. His wife, Kim Keon Hee, was sentenced last month to 20 months for accepting bribes while she was first lady. Former defence minister Kim Yong-hyun received a 30-year term for his role in the crisis.

Words That Mark a Moment

Judge Ji’s verdict was unequivocal: “The declaration of martial law resulted in enormous social costs, and it is difficult to find any indication that the defendant has expressed remorse for that. We sentence Yoon to life imprisonment.”

Yoon’s legal team countered with a different narrative. “This verdict looks like a pre-determined conclusion set by the prosecutors,” Yoon Gap-geun, the former president’s lawyer, told reporters. “We are considering all legal options, but this may not be an appeal worth pursuing.” Under the law, an appeal notice must be filed within seven days.

Outside Voices: Anger, Relief, and Deep Unease

The crowd outside mirrored the country’s fractures. Park Sang-hoon, a retiree who waved a small South Korean flag, said, “I voted for him because I wanted order. But seeing soldiers at the Assembly door — that frightened me. Order cannot come from fear.”

Across the street, a young university student, Lee Min-soo, clutched a candle and said, “We candlelit our way to change once before — in 2016 and 2017 we toppling a corrupt president peacefully. That spirit stopped martial law tonight.” The reference to South Korea’s famous candlelight protests — a civic force that has shaped modern Korean politics — was not accidental. Many observers compare the country’s recent resistance to the mass civic movements that toppled Park Geun-hye nearly a decade ago.

“This case forces us to ask: How resilient are institutions when a leader attempts to bend them?” asked Dr. Min Soo-jin, a constitutional law professor at Seoul National University. “The judiciary proved capable of restraint. The legislature and the public did, too. But we should not confuse an isolated success with invulnerability.”

Prison, Parole, and the Politics of Punishment

Where will Yoon spend the rest of his life? The court’s decree sends him into a national prison system described by officials as chronically overcrowded. It is a far cry from the marble-fronted offices and polished protocol he once commanded. Life sentences in South Korea typically allow inmates to apply for parole after roughly 20 years; whether Yoon will be eligible and under what conditions remains uncertain.

Human rights groups have long criticized overcrowding and called for reforms to ensure humane conditions. “Punishment must be just — and even in the gravest cases, dignity must be preserved,” said Ahn Hye-jin of a Seoul-based penal reform NGO.

Global Echoes: Democracy, Emergency Powers, and the Vulnerability of Institutions

Yoon’s fall from power is not merely a local story. Around the world, the past two decades have seen leaders test, and sometimes erode, the boundaries of emergency powers and democratic restraint. South Korea’s episode joins a growing list of wake-up calls: when institutions buckle, the consequences ripple far beyond one capital.

“This is a cautionary tale,” said Dr. Helena Ortiz, a political scientist who studies democratic backsliding. “Even in consolidated democracies, norms matter as much as laws. The public’s willingness to defend those norms—by voting, protesting, or simply refusing to accept force—can be decisive.”

What Comes Next?

In the immediate wake of the verdict, President Lee Jae Myung — who won a snap election in June after Yoon’s impeachment — took to X to praise the public. “It was possible because it was the Republic of Korea,” he wrote, adding that the Korean people’s non-violent stand could be a model for history. Some academics even floated the idea of nominating the public for a Nobel Peace Prize for their peaceful resistance.

But questions remain. Can wounds be healed in a polarized nation? Will the courts be seen as impartial arbiters or warriors in a political battle? Will the military’s role be re-examined, its chains tightened against future temptations?

As you read this, think back to the images from the square: buses as barricades, candles in the winter dark, a nation that both feared and defied a return to the past. What would you do if a leader you trusted reached for extraordinary power in the name of safety? Whom would you trust to say no? The answers are uncomfortable but necessary if democracies are to endure.

For now, a former president is bound for a crowded cell. A country that has long prided itself on vibrant civic life has been tested — and has answered. Whether that answer becomes a durable lesson, or simply a moment in an ever-complicated political story, is the task of the years ahead.

New Epstein documents spark fresh controversy for Prince Andrew

hanad

February 19, 2026

Andrew taken off UK peerage roll in step to remove titles — Andrew Mountbatten Windsor has also agreed to leave Royal Lodge in Windsor

A birthday arrest, a brittle crown, and the paperwork that won’t stay buried

On what should have been a quiet 66th birthday, the routine of a royal household broke into something raw and public: an arrest, the rustle of court paperwork, and the unmistakable creak of a centuries-old institution being tested in daylight.

This is not a tale that reduces easily to the lurid headlines that have dogged the late Jeffrey Epstein. Those allegations—horrific, painful, and already central to a civil settlement—are the backdrop. The new thread in this knot is different: not about sex trafficking as such, but about trust and the duties of public office. Documents released from Epstein’s trove appear to show a former senior royal using access granted by the state in ways that may have strayed into criminal territory.

The arrest and the files

On his birthday, Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor was taken into custody following a complaint from Republic, the anti-monarchy campaign group, which asked police to examine records from the recent tranche of files released by the US Department of Justice. Those documents—part of what prosecutors described as millions of pages—contain email threads and attachments that some say point to the sharing of confidential material while he was acting as a British trade envoy.

From the released material, investigators highlight emails from late 2010 in which the former prince appears to have forwarded official briefings about trade visits to Singapore, Hong Kong and Vietnam. One exchange even references “a confidential brief” concerning potential investment prospects in southern Afghanistan—at a time when British service personnel were deployed in the region.

Taken on its face, the allegation is stark: the man who represented the United Kingdom on trade missions may have passed government information to a convicted sex offender who was also, chillingly, a fixer of connections in elite circles.

Why this matters: misconduct in public office

It’s a legal accusation with teeth. The charge under scrutiny is misconduct in public office—a common-law offence in England and Wales that, according to the Crown Prosecution Service, targets “serious wilful abuse or neglect of the power or responsibilities of the public office held.” Conviction can carry a maximum sentence of life imprisonment; in practice, sentences vary widely, but the severity underscores how seriously the state treats breaches of trust.

“This isn’t just about an email sent in haste,” a retired Crown lawyer told me. “It’s about whether a person used the authority and access given to them by the public for private ends. That’s the core of the offence.”

Defence lawyers, and indeed those sympathetic to the palace, point to an important wrinkle: trade envoys historically operate in a loose, diplomatic gray area. They act as connectors, their work often informal, their boundaries rarely cut in stone. “Trade envoys are meant to open doors,” said a former diplomat. “They’re not civil servants with bureaucratic rulebooks taped to their desks.”

So the central legal question, if this goes any further, is not merely whether documents were shared, but whether that sharing amounted to a wilful betrayal of public trust—done knowingly, and for improper purposes.

Where this sits in the wider story

To many, the Epstein files were a prism through which decades of elite behavior refracted in ugly ways. Jeffrey Epstein’s name had already become shorthand for a system that protected the powerful and preyed upon the vulnerable. The files’ release has done something else: it drew an outline of networks that blurred the line between private influence and public duty.

“The files are not just scandal fodder,” said a campaigner from Republic. “They reveal how the powerful treated access and information as commodities. That’s corrosive to democratic accountability.”

Scenes from the streets: a monarchy in the marketplace

Outside Buckingham Palace and along the streets of central London, the reaction was a mosaic. A woman running a tea stall near St James’s told me, “People want fairness. It doesn’t matter if you’re a prince or a plumber—if you represent the state, you answer to it.” A commuter who had been among the hecklers when King Charles appeared at an engagement described a mood of impatience. “It’s not just about him,” they said. “It’s about us—why do some people seem beyond the law?”

That sentiment is not contained to Britain. Around the world, institutions once seen as impregnable face similar scrutiny. Democracies are wrestling with how to reconcile tradition with transparency. Royals, celebrities, ministers—no one is immune from the public’s growing demand that privilege not shield wrongdoing.

Possible paths forward

For now, the matter is in police hands. Arrest laws allow for someone to be held for up to 24 hours before charge or release—and longer in cases of serious suspicion. If prosecutors decide to press charges, the courtroom will shift the story into a legal arena where standards of proof and admissible evidence will be the guardrails.

Police assessment: investigators will examine whether the documents show wilful wrongdoing.
Prosecutors’ decision: the Crown Prosecution Service must decide whether there is sufficient evidence and whether prosecution is in the public interest.
Public fallout: regardless of the legal outcome, the monarchy’s image and public debate about accountability will continue.

The broader ledger: trust, power and the public

What is so compelling—and worrying—about this episode is not only the alleged facts, but what they illuminate about power. Institutions endow people with influence precisely because doing so is meant to serve the public good. When that influence is redirected for private ends, the compact between citizens and their representatives fractures.

“We cannot have two sets of rules,” a university ethics professor said. “One for those who serve the public, and another for those who mix public office with private advantage.”

As you read this, perhaps in a city far removed from London, consider how your society protects or polices the people who act in its name. Are the mechanisms of oversight sufficient? Do transparency and accountability keep pace with the privileges they are meant to check?

The monarchy will attempt to let the law do its work; King Charles’s unusually personal statement, signed “Charles R,” underlined the seriousness with which the household is trying to distance itself. But statements can only do so much. The story unfolding is not simply about one man or one set of emails. It is about whether the old deference that cloaked elites will continue to hold—or whether societies will demand that duty and privilege travel together, forever linked.

There are no neat endings yet. Only questions—sharp, necessary ones—about how power is exercised, who it protects, and who holds it to account. And as this case moves from the glare of headlines into the meticulous domain of legal process, people across Britain and beyond will be watching, and judging, in ways that may reshape public life for years to come.

Zuckerberg: Meta is moving away from maximizing user screen time

hanad

February 19, 2026

Meta no longer aiming to boost screen time - Zuckerberg — Meta may have to pay damages if it loses the case, and the verdict could erode Big Tech's longstanding legal defence against claims of user harm

In the Courtroom’s Bright Light: Zuckerberg, Instagram and a Generation on Trial

Los Angeles, mid-morning: sunlight slants through the high glass of the courthouse and paints the mahogany benches with a band of hot gold. Cameras click. Lawyers shuffle papers. And, at the center of it all, Mark Zuckerberg sits under oath—one of the most recognizable figures of the internet age, answering questions about the very apps that shape how young people see themselves.

This is not Washington. This is a jury trial with a plaintiff whose childhood, she says, was reshaped by social media. It’s a case that could ripple into boardrooms and classrooms around the globe. It’s part legal dispute, part morality play, and part public reckoning with the attention economy that has driven tech companies for the past decade.

The Moment on the Stand

When asked about his 2024 testimony to Congress—where he told lawmakers that Meta did not instruct teams to maximize users’ time—Zuckerberg was direct.

“If you are trying to say my testimony was not accurate, I strongly disagree with that,” he said in court, according to observers in the room. He didn’t simply deny. He sought to explain that company priorities have evolved, that internal goals from years past do not define today’s approach.

But the plaintiff’s lawyer, Mark Lanier, produced emails from 2014 and 2015 in which Zuckerberg appears to lay out ambitions for lifting user time on the platform by “double-digit percentage points.” The exchange between past directives and present testimony created an electric tension in the courtroom—one that no doubt swells in the minds of jurors weighing intent against outcomes.

Human Faces Behind the Headline

The woman at the center of the lawsuit says she began using Instagram as a child. She alleges that design choices and company priorities accelerated a slide into anxiety, depression and suicidal thoughts. Her legal team argues the companies profited by keeping young people engaged while knowing — or ignoring — the harms that could follow.

Outside the courtroom, conversations with parents and teens give texture to the legal argument. “My daughter would scroll for hours and then cry about herself,” said Maria Alvarez, a mother of two in Echo Park. “I don’t know if the app made it worse, but I know it changed our nights.”

“It’s engineered,” offered a former product designer who left a major social platform. “Features are optimized to trigger emotion, and emotion is sticky. That’s how engagement metrics rise.”

Not everyone sees social apps as purely harmful. “Instagram was how I found my voice in high school,” said Jonah, 22, who grew up in suburban Ohio. “It was also where I learned to edit, to create. The platforms are complicated tools.”

Evidence, Internal Research, and the Public Record

Investigative reports over recent years have revealed internal documents from Meta showing staff awareness of risks—particularly around teens and body image. One finding that reverberated last October suggested that teens who reported Instagram made them feel worse about their bodies were more exposed to “eating disorder–adjacent content” than peers who did not express that distress.

Meta counters that it has implemented safety features and points to independent findings—citing a panel from the U.S. National Academies that said research has yet to establish a definitive causal link between social media use and changes in children’s mental health. The company also notes that many young people report positive experiences online: community, identity, creative outlets.

These competing truths—documented harm and documented benefit—make the courtroom a difficult place for simple answers. Jurors are asked to parse intentions, product roadmaps from a decade ago, and the messy intersections of childhood, technology and mental health.

Why This Case Matters Beyond One Plaintiff

What’s at stake is not only potential damages for this plaintiff but the future contours of tech accountability. If juries begin finding platforms liable for youth harms tied to product design, the legal landscape that has protected social platforms for years could shift.

Already, governments are moving. Australia has limited access for users under 16 on some platforms; in the U.S., Florida has put restrictions on under-14 access that tech trade groups are challenging in court. Across Europe—countries such as Ireland, France and Spain have debated tighter rules. Families, school districts and states in the U.S. have filed thousands of lawsuits alleging that tech companies contributed to a youth mental health crisis.

Consider the scale: Pew Research Center reported in 2018 that 95% of U.S. teens had access to a smartphone and 45% said they were online “almost constantly.” The World Health Organization has long flagged mental health among adolescents as a global priority, with suicide among the leading causes of death in young people. Against that backdrop, questions about design, addiction, and regulation are not merely legal—they are social and ethical.

Possible Outcomes and Broader Ripples

A legal victory for the plaintiff could prompt sweeping design changes and open the door to more negligence claims.
A ruling for Meta could reinforce the company’s defense and leave regulation to legislators rather than juries.
Either way, the trial amplifies a global conversation about how societies balance innovation with safety for children.

Reading Between the Lines: A Cultural Frontline

This trial lands in a wider cultural moment. Tech companies have built empires on attention, and attention can be both currency and casualty. Teenagers today are growing up with a mirror held up by algorithms—mirrors that can distort and magnify every insecurity. At the same time, social apps can connect a bullied teen with a supportive community across town or across the globe.

“We are asking a jury to decide how to weigh a company’s internal incentives against a person’s life,” said a legal scholar observing the case. “That’s heavy civic work.”

So, what should we make of all this? Is the answer stricter laws, smarter design, parental guidance, digital literacy in schools, or some combination? Perhaps the trial’s real contribution will be to sharpen the public debate, forcing designers, policymakers and families to confront uncomfortable trade-offs.

Closing Questions

As the case continues, I find myself asking: can platforms be engineered to protect without stifling creativity or connection? Can we create incentives that prize wellbeing alongside engagement? And what responsibility do we, as citizens and parents, bear in the design of our children’s digital worlds?

In the courthouse hallway, a teacher from South L.A. paused on her way out and said, “We can’t rewind the last ten years. But we can decide what the next ten look like.” That sentence—simple, stubborn, true—lingers longer than any headline. It is, perhaps, the point of this trial: not just to assign blame, but to illuminate a path forward.

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