It is difficult to regard these developments as mere coincidence. For Benjamin Netanyahu, war has become the ultimate political survival card. Anything short of perpetual crisis could expose him to the full force of ongoing corruption and bribery investigations that threaten his political future.

The domestic Israeli scene increasingly resembles a surrealist canvas, where the ambitions of politicians and parties collide with a deeply divided society exhausted by war on multiple fronts.

As the next elections—scheduled for October, or perhaps even earlier—draw closer, political tensions have sharply intensified. This followed the Israeli Supreme Court’s refusal to examine petitions filed by families of those killed, demanding the formation of an official state commission to investigate the October events and the subsequent war, a move Netanyahu had sought to avoid.

The dilemma lies in the absence of judicial consensus over whether the government is legally obligated to establish such a commission. Historically, the outcomes of these investigations have often led to sweeping political and military dismissals, as happened after the Agranat Commission following Israel’s defeat in the October War of 1973, and the Kahan Commission, which investigated the Sabra and Shatila massacres in Beirut in September 1982.

Experience has repeatedly shown that Netanyahu performs at his political best during periods of crisis. His name has become closely associated with a doctrine of “political survival through managed conflict,” a strategy designed to transform existential security threats into electoral leverage and a mechanism for postponing political and judicial accountability.

He frequently invokes the notion of “absolute victory” as a mobilizing slogan, linking his political future to the achievement of a vaguely defined military objective with no clear timeline. This effectively grants him an open-ended mandate to remain in power. High-profile military operations—such as strikes targeting Iran’s nuclear infrastructure—are likewise perceived as instruments for boosting Likud’s popularity. Netanyahu also takes pride in his close relationship with successive US administrations, particularly Donald Trump’s current administration, portraying himself as uniquely capable of securing unconditional international backing for Israel’s military campaigns.

Through wars and national emergencies, Netanyahu has also managed to place the opposition in what many describe as a “patriotism trap.” Political rivals such as Benny Gantz or Yair Lapid find it difficult to criticize him aggressively while Israeli soldiers remain on the battlefield. This dynamic weakens the opposition and grants Netanyahu additional legitimacy.

At the same time, the Supreme Court’s position has provided him with broader room for maneuver ahead of the upcoming elections. Backed by opinion polls suggesting he still commands considerable public influence, Netanyahu’s supporters continue to frame his policies as unavoidable security necessities.

What further strengthens his position is the growing fragmentation among parties attempting to build a united front against him. According to the Israeli newspaper Maariv, Netanyahu has raised the stakes politically and electorally, even declaring his willingness to form a future coalition government with the support of Arab parties. However, he demanded the right to personally select ten candidates for the Likud electoral list, warning that he could take the dramatic step of running outside the party altogether.

This threat evokes memories of Ariel Sharon’s creation of the Kadima Party in November 2005—a move widely described at the time as political suicide. Sharon resigned from Likud, a party he had helped establish, following fierce internal disputes with the party’s hardline right wing, then led by Netanyahu, over the Gaza disengagement plan. Yet Kadima ultimately succeeded in forming the government, despite Sharon remaining in intensive care until his death was officially announced years later.

Only a week ago, Naftali Bennett and Yair Lapid established the “Together” alliance, seeking to lead a coalition aimed at defeating Netanyahu in the next elections. Remarkably, despite being only days old, the new bloc topped recent opinion polls conducted by Lazar Research in cooperation with Panel4All, securing more than 46% support compared to Likud’s 42%. Yet such numbers are not always decisive in Israel’s volatile political environment, where voters have become increasingly detached from traditional party loyalties.

Despite Netanyahu’s carefully crafted strategies, current realities point to unprecedented challenges confronting his political model. Thus far, he has failed to achieve a decisive outcome in Gaza, Lebanon, or Iran. Even his most reliable political asset—the military establishment—no longer guarantees overwhelming superiority. Emerging alliances such as the Bennett-Lapid coalition present a formidable alternative narrative centered on Netanyahu’s failure to translate military operations into long-term strategic gains.

As the war approaches its third year, it has exposed profound fractures within Israeli society itself. Extensive research data indicate a growing decline in public trust and social cohesion across various sectors. A recent study conducted by researchers from Tel-Hai University and Tel Aviv University paints a deeply complex picture of Israel after two and a half years of conflict. According to the study, 43% of respondents expressed greater fear of internal political divisions and domestic threats, compared to 38% who feared external security threats such as missiles and drones launched by Hezbollah or Iran’s Revolutionary Guard. Moreover, violence within Israeli society itself was viewed by many as an even greater danger than external military threats.

In essence, this is the environment Netanyahu perceives not as a crisis, but as an opportunity: an opportunity to preserve power and potentially secure another term in office—not out of concern for Israel’s security, but out of fear that judicial consequences could ultimately end his career not as a victorious statesman, but as a convicted politician.

Throughout his political career, Netanyahu has repeatedly transformed national security crises into instruments for personal political survival. Yet today, this strategy faces its most difficult test before an Israeli society exhausted by an endless war with no clear political horizon. The central question remains: how long can this model endure amid the steady erosion of internal trust?

Prof. Hatem Sadek, Helwan University

The post Opinion | Netanyahu: The Strategy of Survival Through Chaos first appeared on Dailynewsegypt.

In international politics, denial can occasionally be part of the game. US President Donald Trump has officially denied requesting Chinese mediation regarding Iran during his recent visit to Beijing. Yet the timing of the visit, the nature of the issues discussed, and the simultaneous escalation in the Gulf have all prompted observers to ask a larger question: Is Washington beginning to view China as a partner that can no longer be bypassed in managing Middle Eastern crises?

From this perspective, Trump’s visit to Beijing was not merely a historic encounter between two strategic rivals or a diplomatic showcase between two great powers. It reflected a deeper transformation unfolding within the international system itself. The shift is neither the collapse of America, as some imagine, nor the rise of China as a traditional replacement empire. Rather, it lies in the changing nature of power itself. Today, power is no longer measured solely by military capabilities, but also by the ability to influence markets, energy flows, supply chains, and networks of economic dependency.

Even without an officially declared mediation request, the mere linkage between Beijing, Washington, and the Iranian file reveals an undeniable reality: China has become too influential to ignore in Middle Eastern calculations. Washington, which for decades acted as the sole power capable of shaping regional balances, now finds itself operating in a world where other actors possess genuine leverage in one of the most strategically sensitive regions on earth.

China today is not merely a trading partner for Tehran; it is a vital economic artery. It is the largest importer of Iranian oil, has massive strategic investments under the Belt and Road Initiative, and holds the ability to grant Tehran economic breathing space in the face of Western sanctions. This makes Beijing—unlike many other international powers—capable of addressing Iran in the language of interests, not threats alone.

However, reading the scene as a “complete Chinese victory” would be a superficial and hasty interpretation. China itself does not—at least not yet—seek to lead the world according to the traditional American model. Beijing is highly aware that any direct confrontation with Washington could threaten the global economic stability upon which its rise depends. Therefore, China’s strategy is based on quiet expansion: economic influence, commercial penetration, long-term investments, and flexible alliances, without engaging in large-scale military adventures.

As for Trump, he operates with a mindset different from that of classical American administrations. He does not place much faith in ideological alliances or grand slogans about democracy and human rights; he believes in the language of “the deal.” His political approach is deeply pragmatic: reducing tensions when necessary, protecting economic interests, and avoiding disruptions that could destabilize energy markets or global trade flows.

Yet behind this pragmatism lies a larger, undeniable truth: America is no longer able to manage the world single-handedly as it did after the collapse of the Soviet Union. In the 1990s, Washington acted as the “sole pole,” capable of imposing sanctions, igniting wars, and building international coalitions without needing genuine understandings with rival powers. Today, the landscape is entirely different.

The war in Ukraine exposed the limits of Western power. The escalation in the Middle East revealed the fragility of global energy markets. Meanwhile, China’s economic rise has created a web of mutual dependencies that makes isolating or bypassing Beijing extremely difficult. The world is gradually transforming into a more complex system in which centers of influence are distributed among Washington, Beijing, Moscow, and rising regional powers.

Most importantly, the Middle East itself is no longer what it once was. Countries in the region have become more pragmatic and more capable of diversifying their alliances. Saudi Arabia cooperates economically with China while maintaining its security partnership with America. The UAE moves flexibly between East and West. Turkey plays a balancing role between Russia and NATO. Even Iran itself is increasingly looking eastward.

In this context, Egypt stands before an important strategic opportunity. A multipolar world grants Cairo wider space for political and economic maneuver, away from the logic of sharp polarization. Egyptian-Chinese relations are expanding economically, while the security and military partnership with the United States continues. This ability to balance may become one of the most significant factors in Egypt’s strength in the coming years.

However, multipolarity does not necessarily mean greater stability. Sometimes a unipolar world is more predictable, while competition between major powers can lead to prolonged crises and open contests of influence. The real danger lies not in China’s rise alone, but in the absence of clear rules to regulate relations between the great powers in the coming phase.

The question that imposes itself here is not: “Has American hegemony ended?” but rather: “How will America behave in a world it no longer controls alone?”

Washington recognizes that Beijing has become its most serious economic competitor, yet it also understands that China’s role in global energy markets, trade networks, and regional diplomacy cannot simply be ignored. This complex relationship of rivalry and selective cooperation may become the defining feature of international politics over the next decade.

As for Iran, it is well aware of the value of its position within this equation. The higher the tension in the Gulf, the greater the importance of the Iranian role, and the greater the need for major powers to negotiate with it, directly or indirectly. Therefore, Tehran will likely continue using its regional pressure cards cautiously, without risking an all-out confrontation that could threaten the regime’s survival.

The Strait of Hormuz remains the true heart of the crisis. It is not merely a waterway, but a global energy artery through which a significant share of oil and gas exports flows. Any disruption there threatens not only the Gulf but the entire global economy. This is why the whole world watches this small area with anxiety that sometimes surpasses attention to the wars themselves.

In the end, Trump’s visit to Beijing may not be an official announcement of the end of the American era. Still, it is certainly a practical acknowledgment that the world has entered a new phase: a phase in which no power—no matter how strong—can manage international balances alone.

And perhaps this is the most important message the visit carried, far from official statements and diplomatic photographs: The world is changing… slowly, but profoundly.

Dr. Marwa El-Shinawy, Academic and Writer

The post Opinion | Trump’s Visit to Beijing Raises the Question: Is Washington Recognizing a Post-Unipolar World? first appeared on Dailynewsegypt.

When families lose trust in education, they do not lose trust in schools alone. They lose trust in the very idea of merit. People begin to feel that success is no longer linked to effort, that certificates no longer guarantee upward mobility, and that class differences have become stronger than the school’s ability to overcome them. At that point, the crisis of education becomes a political and social crisis, because it touches the meaning of justice in society.

During my membership in the Egyptian Senate, I followed the education file closely, particularly through my work in the Education and Scientific Research Committee, as well as through public discussions with education ministers and parliamentary proposals related to the philosophy, fairness, and stability of education. One of the issues I have always considered highly dangerous is the frequent and rapid change in Egypt’s educational system, as if every new minister begins from zero rather than from a stable national vision.

Egypt is a major country, and its educational system should not change with every ministerial change. This contradicts the most basic principles of strategic planning and the idea of a state that builds its policies on accumulated knowledge and experience, not on temporary judgments or short-term solutions. Education cannot be managed through constant experimentation on entire generations.

In this context, I submitted a request for a general discussion in the Senate, addressed to the Minister of Education, to clarify the government’s policy regarding the exclusion of the second foreign language from the overall high school grading system, a decision that effectively marginalised it academically.

This happened in Egypt, a country with African ties that extend into an important Francophone sphere; a Mediterranean country surrounded by a highly diverse linguistic environment; a tourism-based economy that depends significantly on engagement with foreigners; a large country that should be translating knowledge from and into its own language; and a country with major agreements with European partners to promote the teaching of their languages.

For me, this was not a defence of a single subject. It was a defence of an entire educational philosophy. Language is not merely vocabulary and grammar. It is a cultural and intellectual bridge, a window to the world, and a tool for understanding others without dissolving into them.

The Senate also played an important role in confronting another dangerous proposal: an amendment to the Education Law that would have allowed students to retake the general secondary school exam in return for a financial payment. The core objection was that educational opportunity should not become a commodity, and that a student’s ability to try again should not depend on the financial capacity of his or her family. When money becomes a gateway to improving one’s chances in a decisive exam, we are not reforming education; we are opening a new door to class discrimination.

The school is not merely a place for transferring knowledge. It is a major institution for producing society’s understanding of itself. Inside the school, the child learns the meaning of authority, discipline, opportunity, and fairness. The child learns whether rules apply to everyone or only to the weak. The child learns whether effort is rewarded or whether outcomes are already determined by class, money, and social connections.

For this reason, education reform requires governance, not fragmented experiments. It requires stable policies, clear indicators, real accountability, and serious social dialogue. Above all, it requires the state to understand that the school is not just a building, the curriculum is not just a book, the exam is not an end in itself, and the student is not merely a number in a database.

Technology may help, but it cannot solve the crisis of trust by itself. It may provide more data, but it does not automatically guarantee greater justice. The teacher, too, is not merely an implementer of the curriculum. The teacher is a social actor who helps shape, inside the classroom, the meanings of justice, opportunity, and trust.

In the end, education is not merely a service. It is a promise. A promise that effort has meaning, that poverty is not a final destiny, and that society does not leave its children trapped in the places where they were born. When this promise is broken, we do not lose only an educational system; we lose one of the pillars of public trust.

Therefore, a country like Egypt should not only ask how to reform education. It must ask how education can once again become a reasonable and fair path to the future. This, in my view, is one of the most important questions facing the modern state.

Dr Ramy Galal is a governance and institutional reform specialist focusing on state capacity, accountability, and the design of effective public institutions. His work examines how institutional arrangements shape policy outcomes and government performance, particularly in emerging and middle-income contexts. He also engages with the concept of governance of meaning as an analytical lens for understanding how authority, narratives, and interpretation influence policy environments.

He is an Assistant Professor and a former Senator, bringing a combination of academic expertise and hands-on experience across both legislative and executive domains. He previously served as an advisor and official spokesperson for Egypt’s Ministry of Planning and Economic Development, with direct involvement in policy design, government decision-making, and implementation processes at the centre of government.

He holds a PhD from Alexandria University, a master’s degree from the University of East London, and a diploma in public administration from the University of Chile.

The post Opinion | When Education Is No Longer a Promise of Justice first appeared on Dailynewsegypt.

Egypt is now entering a post-nostalgia phase. The late-twentieth-century model of ‘soft power’—defined by Joseph Nye as attraction rather than coercion—feels increasingly inadequate in a cultural arena where creative authority has ceased to be linear or institutionally contained. Instead, it is dispersed across platforms, audiences, and algorithms that redirect attention and shape perception. Influence no longer flows predictably from centre to periphery, and memory persists, though in an altered form: shifting from a static archive into an active heritage that is continually reinterpreted, refracted, and remixed. Development, in this sense, is measured not merely through infrastructure or capital, but through the symbolic coherence of a society and its landscape—the capacity to recognise itself clearly even amid profound change.

A state-level commitment to cultural justice informs this transformation. As we commemorate the 80th anniversary of the International Council of Museums (ICOM), the Grand Egyptian Museum—which recently hosted Art Cairo 2026 under the theme ‘Arab. Art. Here.’—and the City of Arts and Culture in the New Administrative Capital stand as tangible testaments to a refreshed aesthetic direction. Initiatives like the digital cultural card for students and the modernisation of 30 culture palaces in a single year represent the democratisation of public spaces. Through the ‘Collection from the Museum’ programme, the Ministry of Culture partners with platforms to release modern masterpieces out of storage and into the public sphere, along with the ‘Craft-to-Cabinet’ integration of traditional ‘Turathna’ artistry within new cities. And, by designating North Sinai as the Capital of Culture 2026, Egypt is decentralising its creative baseline to ensure active heritage is enjoyed nationwide.

A distinctly national formula is taking shape: modernising through local linguistic and emotional codes rather than borrowed Western templates. In doing so, Egypt asserts an independent right to articulate its own history—a definitive departure from an era when Egyptian heritage was mined as a global inventory. Inevitably, cultural practices alter the way cities evolve. Alongside the rise of sleek infrastructure, a counter-movement toward architectural authenticity is beginning to take root. Instead of yielding entirely to the neutrality of minimalism, a new generation of design is turning toward self-referential forms deeply attentive to local materiality, climatic logic, spatial memory, and the familiarity of place. In Alexandria, Al Nabi Daniel Street has gracefully ambled towards a new pedestrian identity, and in the capital, the restoration of the Khedivial centre has revived coherence across passages like Talaat Harb Street, while enclaves like the Al-Borsa Triangle have been reactivated as arts and community hubs, reshaping commercial layers while preserving the area’s ‘sui generis’ informal rhythm.

The renewed use of signifiers such as ‘Egyptian blue’ offers a compelling example of the negotiation between continuity and reinvention. Historically, the world’s first synthetic pigment, the colour has been transmuted from an ancient vestige into a modern strategic asset—serving as a visual code and a technical tool for energy-efficient cooling. This logic guides active restoration around heritage sites in Luxor, Saqqara, and historic Cairo, just as it informs the design of contemporary developments across the country. Importantly, earlier forms of preservation—photographs, architectural surveys, and cinematic records—allow for an informed reconstruction of atmosphere in these renovated districts. Together, this material becomes a reference system through which proportion and historic character are reintroduced into spaces undergoing transformation.

Woven into this urban fabric, a new cultural wave is reshaping visual identity. Today, Gen Z operates under the ethos that what feels authentic is what feels sophisticated. Local symbols carry supreme cachet, driven by an atavistic instinct for Egyptian aesthetics that subverts the ‘khawaga complex’ of the Gen X cohort coming of age in the early globalisation era. Independent fashion brands and diaspora micro-labels render Egypt’s landmarks, cartography, figures, and typography into wearable form—vanguard streetwear serving as a medium for civilisational branding in everyday life. These items function as mobile merchandise where national memory becomes globally legible; this aesthetic is frequently co-opted abroad by activists, Middle East studies undergraduates, and the culturally initiated, who wear these local icons as a badge of being ‘au courant’ with subcultural niches and regional nuances.

A parallel visual vocabulary exists in accessories, where Pharaonic motifs like the Ankh and lotus flower are experiencing an assertive reclamation rather than a nostalgic revival. This preoccupation with what Jacques Derrida termed archive fever was once reinforced by external frames—romanticising a cosmopolitan history abroad more intensely than it was actively inhabited at home—but today the archive has been re-appropriated, transformed from tokenistic souvenir into wearable pride.

This metamorphosis extends beyond objects and visual culture into the organisation of shared memory itself. Egyptian audiences once inhabited a unified broadcast environment, with households and communities across the country gathered around a screen to share a viewing experience. Commercials historically played a formative role; they were not just adverts for products but recurring cultural touchstones, with jingles and catchphrases absorbed collectively, quoted colloquially, and remembered long after campaigns ended. Today, that shared experience has pluralised, as audiences no longer follow the same schedules or programming. Indeed, the old gatekeeper era—the age of the monolithic broadcast and the scripted monologue—is giving way to texture, spontaneity, and recognisable humanity. Social media has altered the hierarchy of trust; audiences encounter meaning first through creators and eyewitnesses whose credibility relies on raw immediacy rather than a sanitised setup. Even legacy talk shows now operate as downstream consumers of the internet, relying on viral clips and trending hashtags to shape their rhetoric. The centralised transmission is no longer the epicentre of public attention, but a secondary node in a diversified attention economy.

Yet this does not signal the disappearance of shared popular culture, only its reconfiguration within new systems of circulation. Egypt’s distinct, of-the-moment humour and perspectives keep its presence unmistakable on the modern screen. Occasionally, an Egyptian scene, meme, or advertisement circulates virally in ways that reveal just how relatable contemporary Egyptian expression can be—travelling globally without the need for translation. Egypt’s prestige cinema, highbrow television, and iconic theatrical works have long shaped the Middle Eastern media landscape, establishing Egyptian Arabic as the definitive lingua franca of storytelling. This timeless audiovisual repertoire created a structural intelligibility that no later market entrant has displaced, despite the mass circulation of imported, dubbed, remade, and original series across pan-Arab streaming platforms. Even as newer regional production centres expand their output and visibility, Egyptian content continues to instinctively attract audiences through its enduring charm and gravitas. Cairo remains the central organising hub of Arab screen culture, a role reinforced by the return of Al-Mahrousa—Egypt’s national pavilion at the Cannes Film Market—bringing together filmmakers, producers, and global distributors, while underlining Egypt’s enduring cinematic impact on the universal stage.

This civilisational reach extends beyond the arts, no longer channelled through the outmoded paradigm of soft power but operating as a robust framework of human capital and intellectual exchange. Two hundred years after the landmark educational mission of 1826, thousands of international students come to study in Egyptian universities each year in continuum of Egypt’s ancient role as a destination for scholars. Alongside this, the country steadily broadens its impact in science, engineering, and technology with growing participation in advanced manufacturing and global electronics supply chains. The resulting ecosystem is increasingly coalescing into a sovereign framework in which local creativity and national development reinforce one another. Egypt is not simply safeguarding culture; it is shaping the terms through which Egyptian identity is encountered, interpreted, and appreciated both internally and externally. Ultimately, this profound cultural transition demonstrates that heritage is not a stagnant archive to be passively preserved, but a vital, living “culture in motion.” Ours is a nation uniquely equipped to turn memory into momentum, heritage into invention, and everyday life into a sustained cultural language—not as a repetition of the past, but as a deliberate expansion of what the present can confidently become.

Nadine Loza is a development strategist, opinion columnist, and Founding Director of the Egypt Diaspora Initiative.

The post Opinion | New Republic, Post-Nostalgia first appeared on Dailynewsegypt.

The controversy did not end with Trump’s remark. It intensified because of the figures appointed to the new commission, individuals who clearly reflect the growing influence of the Christian conservative movement within circles surrounding the administration. Among the most prominent names is Texas Lieutenant Governor Dan Patrick, known for his deeply conservative positions, who openly described the separation of church and state as “a historical myth,” arguing that the United States was founded as a nation rooted in Christian values and that this reality had been deliberately distorted over the decades.

The commission also includes influential religious and media personalities tied to the American evangelical movement, one of Trump’s most loyal and politically powerful electoral bases. According to reports published by TIME magazine and the Associated Press, many members of the commission believe the United States is experiencing a period of “moral and cultural decay,” and that restoring religion to the center of public life is essential to saving traditional American identity.

What makes this development particularly alarming is that these are no longer merely theological debates taking place inside churches or among conservative intellectual circles. They have become part of an emerging discourse voiced by individuals operating close to the center of political power in Washington itself. For this reason, major American newspapers and political analysts have increasingly treated the commission not as a symbolic advisory panel, but as a reflection of a deeper ideological transformation underway in the United States.

Associated Press reports explicitly noted that opposition to the “strict separation” between church and state has become central to discussions surrounding the commission. Politico framed Trump’s remarks as a direct attempt to redefine the relationship between religion and political authority in America, while TIME warned that the commission could eventually become a platform for imposing a conservative religious vision on public policy, education, culture, and American law.

The danger of this commission does not simply lie in the presence of conservative religious figures. Religious conservatives have always existed in American politics. What is new—and potentially historic—is the migration of this ideology into a semi-official position within the White House itself, at a moment when the United States is already experiencing profound polarization over identity, culture, and national values. For the first time in decades, there appears to be a current within the American political establishment that no longer views the separation of religion and state as a constitutional safeguard, but rather as an obstacle to the restoration of “true American identity.”

This is where the issue becomes especially serious. The principle of church-state separation in the United States was never merely an abstract philosophical concept; it functioned as the essential safeguard preventing America from evolving into a religious state dominated by a single doctrinal worldview. It preserved equilibrium within a nation composed of countless denominations, religions, and cultural identities. Once political authority itself begins questioning that foundation, concerns no longer revolve solely around religion, but around the future of civil liberties, minority rights, and the nature of American democracy itself.

Many American academics and constitutional scholars fear that the Religious Liberty Commission could eventually become a pressure mechanism for reshaping educational, cultural, and legal policies in the United States, particularly concerning abortion, LGBTQ rights, school curricula, and the role of religion in public institutions. In other words, the debate is no longer simply about protecting religious worship; it is about integrating a conservative theological vision into the heart of American policymaking and cultural authority.

To fully understand what is happening, one must examine the broader American context. The United States has spent years trapped in unprecedented cultural and political polarization involving identity, immigration, gender, education, and even the meaning of “American values” themselves. Within this environment, many conservatives believe the country has fundamentally changed in ways that threaten its traditional identity, and that modern liberalism has evolved beyond a political ideology into a cultural project that marginalizes religion and reshapes society itself.

What Trump is doing, therefore, is not merely an electoral maneuver. It is an attempt to consolidate religious conservatives behind a message asserting that the American state should no longer apologize for its Christian roots, and that religion should once again occupy a central place in public life. The Religious Liberty Commission thus emerges not simply as an advisory institution, but as a political and ideological symbol.

Yet the implications extend far beyond the United States. When the world’s most powerful nation begins redefining the relationship between religion and politics, the message resonates globally. For decades, America promoted itself as the leading defender of liberal democracy, secular governance, and institutional neutrality toward religion, using this image as a cornerstone of its political and cultural influence, especially in the Middle East. Today, however, Washington itself appears to be reopening debate over these very principles.

This transformation could have profound consequences for the Middle East. Many conservative and religious movements across the region will likely interpret developments in America as evidence that the West itself is retreating from the secular model it long presented as the ultimate form of modern governance. Some governments may even use this American shift to justify expanding the role of religion in politics and public culture, arguing that such developments are now occurring inside the United States itself.

Even more significantly, what is happening in America does not appear isolated from broader global trends. Europe is witnessing the rise of Christian nationalist movements, Russia increasingly portrays itself as the defender of “traditional Christian values,” and India continues to experience the ascent of Hindu nationalism. The world, it seems, may be entering a new historical phase in which religious and civilizational identities return to the center of international politics after decades dominated by liberal globalization.

For this reason, many American analysts no longer view Trump’s Religious Liberty Commission as a temporary political controversy, but rather as an indicator of a deeper civilizational transformation unfolding within the West itself; one that may ultimately redefine the relationship between religion and political power not only in America, but across the global order in the years ahead.

Dr. Marwa El-Shinawy – Academic and Writer

The post Opinion | ‘Let’s Forget the Separation of Church and State’: Has America Opened the Door to a New Era of Religious Politics? first appeared on Dailynewsegypt.

At the outset, several key realities must be acknowledged. Iran views the current regional landscape as temporary rather than permanent, tied largely to whatever remains of US President Donald Trump’s time in the White House – at most 30 months, including the final six months during which Trump would effectively become a “lame duck” ahead of the next presidential election. Tehran also regards the nuclear file as a supreme strategic asset that may be delayed under current pressure, but can never be surrendered – especially after the recent war reinforced the belief that, had Iran possessed a nuclear deterrent, neither Washington nor Tel Aviv would have dared to attack it.

Iran believes its nuclear programme can be technologically contained and suffocated for a limited period. Yet it also understands that once a state reaches the stage of independent technical mastery over a nuclear programme, material blockades become ineffective and may instead stimulate domestic innovation. This process was aided by neighbouring Pakistan, whose scientist Abdul Qadeer Khan previously transferred substantial nuclear expertise to Tehran. Added to this is Iran’s rugged geography, which serves as both a natural shield and a tactical advantage. The dispersal of enrichment facilities across fortified mountainous terrain and underground sites complicates aerial and satellite surveillance while significantly reducing the effectiveness of direct military action or strict international monitoring.

What applies to the nuclear file applies even more strongly to the ballistic missile programme. Both can be revived or further developed regardless of monitoring mechanisms. The real strategic prize, however, lies in controlling the Strait of Hormuz, a geopolitical opportunity Iran believes may never be repeated.

Tehran understands that Hormuz is an irreplaceable choke point. Between 20 and 21 million barrels of crude oil and petroleum products pass through it daily, accounting for nearly 20% of global oil consumption and around 30% of worldwide seaborne oil shipments. More than a quarter of global liquefied natural gas trade also transits the strait annually. Any total or partial closure – or even credible threats to maritime security – could send global oil prices soaring within hours.

Although alternatives exist, including pipeline networks through Saudi Arabia and the UAE, these can absorb only a limited share of the enormous volumes passing through Hormuz, leaving much of the world’s energy supply effectively trapped behind its narrow gates.

There are also legal constraints, particularly under the 1982 United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea, which prohibits the imposition of transit fees. Article 38 guarantees all vessels the right to continuous and expeditious passage without restrictions or charges. The only exception appears in Article 42, which allows fees solely in exchange for specific services such as navigation assistance or rescue operations.

Yet since Tehran issued its threats and reportedly imposed fees on certain vessels, the model itself has begun inspiring other states that control strategic waterways.

Last April, Indonesian Finance Minister Purbaya Yudhi Sadewa triggered controversy when he publicly proposed charging vessels passing through the Strait of Malacca, explicitly citing the Iranian model in Hormuz. The proposal faced strong opposition from Singapore and Malaysia, forcing Jakarta to retreat. Nevertheless, the concept itself has now entered geopolitical discourse as a potential future instrument of pressure.

China, meanwhile, is watching closely. If Iran succeeds in normalising such practices, Beijing could attempt to use the precedent to justify restrictions or transit fees in the Taiwan Strait or parts of the South China Sea, treating them as internal waters or areas subject to its sovereign security jurisdiction.

The real crisis surrounding the Strait of Hormuz can be distilled into one fact: it is extraordinarily difficult to secure militarily. Tactically, it represents a nightmare for conventional naval forces. Cheap smart naval mines, fast suicide boats, and drones launched from concealed positions amid harsh terrain turn the very idea of fully securing the passage into an illusion. Although the United States maintains a significant naval presence in the region, it remains incapable of fully preventing “grey-zone” attacks carried out without clear fingerprints or through proxy actors. This reality forces insurance companies to impose severe restrictions – or even deny coverage entirely – compelling shipping companies to suspend operations voluntarily, thereby creating an effective blockade without a formal declaration of war.

Iran’s message is direct: paying transit fees – or even a regulated form of tribute – may ultimately prove less costly than the collapse of supply chains or the loss of oil tankers. This helps explain why major powers appear constrained in confronting such threats decisively.

Maritime traffic through the strait is estimated at roughly 3,000 ships per month under normal conditions. Imposing fees on even a fraction of these vessels could generate billions of dollars annually. Reports suggest the prospect may even have appealed to Trump himself, as a businessman inclined toward profitable arrangements, prompting discussions about a possible joint framework with Iran to organise transit tolls through the strait.

Hormuz possesses all the ingredients necessary to become a permanent gold mine for Iran – and for whichever powers manage to dominate it – provided they do not push matters so far that the world accelerates efforts to develop alternative routes and technologies capable of eventually diminishing the strait’s strategic relevance.

What may be unfolding is the emergence of a new maritime financial order built around the monetisation of security. The central question remains: could Hormuz ultimately become Tehran’s ultimate “joker card” – one capable of securing a grand bargain involving the comprehensive lifting of international sanctions and the recovery of frozen Iranian assets in exchange for guaranteeing freedom of navigation once again?

Prof. Hatem Sadek – Helwan University

The post Opinion | Hormuz: The ‘Gold Mine’ Strait first appeared on Dailynewsegypt.

May 9 commemorates the 1950 Schuman Declaration, an initiative by French Foreign Minister Robert Schuman to pool the coal and steel of historic rivals France and West Germany. Initially known as Schuman Day, it was a pragmatic measure to ensure that materials necessary for arms production were locked into civilian use in a joint and transparent manner. This first step, involving two countries and two components, paved the way for a continental project built on incremental interdependence, celebrated on ‘Europe Day’ since 1985.

The declaration explicitly named Africa as a primary beneficiary, stating that with “increased resources,” Europe could pursue “one of its essential tasks, namely, the development of the African continent.” Scholars cite this as the foundational text for “Eurafrica”—a concept in which a unified Europe (rather than the “fortress Europe” feared by its development partners) would maintain influence and resource access through shared development.

May 25 marks the 1963 founding of the Organisation of African Unity (OAU) in Addis Ababa, driven by Pan-African Founding Fathers including Gamal Abdel Nasser, Haile Selassie, Jomo Kenyatta, Kwame Nkrumah, Julius Nyerere, and Ahmed Sékou Touré. Initially designated “African Liberation Day”—an evolution of the 1958 “African Freedom Day”—the OAU Charter’s primary mission was to “eradicate all forms of colonialism from Africa,” directly confronting remaining European imperial rule and the Apartheid regime. The summit marked a shift from fragmented anti-colonial struggles to a coordinated continental framework centred on sovereignty, political unity, and collective agency—a trajectory that would later evolve into the African Union and be commemorated annually as Africa Day.

At the same 1963 summit, newly independent states insisted on equitable representation within United Nations organs, specifically the Security Council. This was not a plea for inclusion, but an early assertion that African independence was intrinsically linked to a global order in which African nations should be full-fledged actors. More than sixty years later, that demand remains unmet. Africa still lacks permanent representation in the world’s pre-eminent security body, and proposals to expand seats without reviewing veto power are widely regarded as entrenching representational asymmetry.

Taken together, the European Union and the African Union represent two distinct post-war political projects: one organised around continental integration through interdependence, the other around decolonisation, sovereignty, and collective African agency. The European Union today is often associated with debates over strengthening military capacity, protecting economic and strategic interests, and advancing energy security within a shifting Euro-Atlantic order.

The African Union continues to frame its priorities around unity and integration as conditions for peace and development, alongside a sustained focus on ending conflict, advancing governance reforms, and accelerating the African Continental Free Trade Area as a vehicle for economic integration. These strands are echoed in the spirit of the AU anthem, where unity—continental and national—is the foundation for stability and collective progress. Egypt is deeply committed to achieving this vision.

Hosting the first Africa-Europe Summit in 2000 established Cairo as an ideal convening ground. Yet, looking back, the opening declaration’s phrasing—that “over the centuries, ties have existed between Africa and Europe, which have led to many areas of co-operation”—reflected the careful compromises typical of multilateral diplomacy. Consensus often depends on a language broad enough for all parties to endorse. Still, the formulation inevitably flattened a far more unequal history of extraction, domination, and resistance—the very grievances African leaders had placed at the centre of the continental project.

Cairo now operates within a regional order that is gradually becoming more coherent and, in principle, more equal. The AU summit in June 2026 is significant to Egypt for two reasons: first, its theme, “Assuring Sustainable Water Availability and Safe Sanitation Systems,” is a matter of acute priority for Egypt as one of the countries facing severe to near-absolute water scarcity on a global scale; and secondly, its location, New Alamein.

New Alamein carries its own weight of symbolism. For decades, this stretch of Egypt’s northwestern coast was known as the Devil’s Garden, a name it acquired because of vast fields of landmines and unexploded remnants left by the Second World War battles of 1942 between Axis and Allied forces. A landscape defined by war, cemeteries, and danger has since been transformed through sustained investment and large-scale infrastructure works. Today, it stands as a fourth-generation city built for year-round activity, economic vitality, and regional connectivity, one of the mega infrastructure projects transforming the landscape of Egypt in the last ten years.

As Egypt also prepares to host the annual conference of Egyptians abroad in August, it is worth remembering that in 1963 the African summit expressed “deep concern” for communities of African origin living outside the continent, an early recognition of the diaspora as a political constituency. This prefigures the European Union’s later conceptualisation of diaspora as a tool of soft power. Its relevance today is less historical than structural. Migrants do not simply leave one society and enter another; they inhabit transnational networks that blur borders. Diaspora communities are living infrastructures—moving culture, ideas, labour and capital across systems still treated as separate, yet are in practice inseparable.

The proximity of Europe and Africa’s commemorative dates and post-war projects points to substantive, not merely symbolic, convergence. It reflects a reality in which Africa and Europe are increasingly enmeshed across shared strategic, economic, and human networks. The question is no longer whether they are connected, but whether political frameworks and concrete policies are evolving quickly enough to manage that interdependence fairly. The challenge ahead is as much political and strategic as it is institutional. African states must remain vigilant about how representation, development, and security arrangements are structured within this integrated region, while Europe must engage Africa as a full geopolitical partner rather than treating it as a peripheral concern. Only then can interdependence thrive on genuinely mutual terms.

Nadine Loza is a development strategist, opinion columnist, and Founding Director of the Egypt Diaspora Initiative.

The post Opinion | The May Meridian first appeared on Dailynewsegypt.

This issue is more crucial than ever, occupying a central place in cultural discussions, given Egypt’s increasing openness to international cultural cooperation through exchange programmes, grants, and specialized seminars. These initiatives reflect an institutional orientation toward building partnerships based on knowledge and cultural interaction. In this context, translation has become the most important tool for reintroducing Egypt’s valuable cultural heritage into shared spaces, without reduction or distortion.

This approach is clearly evident in the strategic vision of the Egyptian Ministry of Culture, which seeks to support cultural industries and enhance soft power by presenting Egyptian artistic and cultural heritage as an active entity capable of interacting with others, rather than merely a static inheritance. Hence, the focus is on translating arts and literature as dynamic mediums capable of faithfully presenting this heritage while respecting the diversity of cultural spheres to preserve its essence.

Within the Academy of Arts, this role has been realized through the establishment of the Higher Institute for the Translation of Arts, Literature, and Artistic Media. Its vision prioritizes preparing specialized personnel capable of dealing with artistic texts as intricate semantic systems that transcend the limits of language to encompass culture, customs, traditions, image, sound, and performance. Translating a work of art is not a literal transfer but a re-creation of an aesthetic experience, requiring strong awareness of identity on the one hand and of the mechanisms of global reception on the other. Egypt’s prominent writers, such as Naguib Mahfouz, Taha Hussein, Yahya Haqqi, Youssef El-Sebai, and countless others, did not simply produce distinguished literary works. Their writings were literary studies and penetrating insights into the human psyche and its complexities, undoubtedly transcending local boundaries. This is precisely what the translator must convey: universal messages that can inspire all cultures and foster a broader understanding of the human experience.

Similarly, Egypt’s timeless cinematic and theatrical heritage, with all its giants who transmitted world heritage to us and left their mark, deserves our utmost attention. We must retranslate it within the same global context that emphasizes the artwork’s cultural content, rather than focusing solely on the technicalities of dialogue, which are certainly open to multiple interpretations. Our cinematic heritage of comedic works from the 1940s and 1950s confirms this, as these films transformed comedy into a weapon of political defiance against occupation, inspiring audiences worldwide. Likewise, the realistic films of the 1990s, which reflected the early signs of globalization and foreshadowed our current situation, offered insightful artistic perspectives that interpreted and engaged with the world, rather than being confined to their own culture.

Perhaps the greatest challenge today lies in transforming translation into an effective tool of soft power, consolidating Egypt’s cultural presence on the international stage, not only through artistic production but also through its accurate and conscious presentation, which respects its distinctive character and illuminates its richness and universality.

In conclusion, translation is no longer a cultural choice but a tactical necessity imposed by the nature of the times. It is the means by which we reshape ourselves to the world and participate in forming a more balanced and pluralistic global discourse, a discourse that acknowledges and celebrates difference, rather than obliterating it.

Prof. Inas Abd-ElKhaleq – Dean, Higher Institute of Art, Literature, and Artistic Media Translation

The post Opinion | The Translation and Preservation of National Identity and Cultural Heritage in the Age of Globalization: A Perspective from Egyptian Cultural Institutions first appeared on Dailynewsegypt.

In the US, three main forces are pulling in different directions. First, Congress, both chambers, wants to avoid another endless war in the Middle East, especially since the public is weary of long, costly interventions. Second, the military establishment knows that any direct clash with Iran would not be quick or clean; it would likely open multiple fronts from the Gulf to Iraq and possibly beyond. Third, there is the electoral angle, in which every military choice is tied to the president’s image with voters, who are increasingly sensitive to fuel prices and economic security.

What we are seeing now is not truly a “withdrawal” but more a game of brinkmanship. The US administration is trying to maintain deterrence without slipping into war. The ongoing naval presence in the Strait of Hormuz and the constant threat of military action are balanced by the opening of a limited negotiating channel, a careful mix of pressure without escalation.

On the flip side, Iran is keenly reading the US stance. It knows Washington is not seeking a full-blown war, but it also cannot afford to appear as though it is backing down. Tehran is advancing calculated negotiating proposals while holding its regional influence. It is banking on time: the longer tension lingers without actual conflict, the more domestic pressure will build on the US administration.

Insights from Washington think tanks, such as the Brookings Institution and the Council on Foreign Relations, highlight a complex concern. Their analyses do not describe an “end of conflict,” but rather a “repositioning phase.” The general view is that both sides have entered a sort of tactical truce, which seems more about buying time than building peace.

On the economic front, the situation is trickier than it appears. Any disruption to oil flows through the Gulf would hit the US market hard. With inflation still a serious issue at home, the administration cannot afford a military operation that might send prices soaring. Energy stability thus becomes a key, albeit hidden, factor in every decision made.

Forecasts center around three main scenarios. First, the maintenance of the current situation, neither war nor agreement, which seems most likely in the short term, as it meets the minimum interests of both sides. Second, the possibility of a limited diplomatic breakthrough, perhaps through indirect mediation, leading to a longer period of calm but without a real solution. Third, and most dangerous, is a miscalculation, an ill-timed strike or incident in the Gulf, that could quickly reignite the conflict, given the already charged atmosphere. The irony is that all parties claim they do not want war, yet their actions keep the possibility alive.

This is not so much a contradiction as a reflection of today’s international politics: managing risks rather than eliminating them. In the end, what is unfolding is neither the end of escalation nor a clear beginning, but rather a state of limbo managed with extreme precision from Washington, where every phrase is as carefully calculated as military actions.

The real question now is not whether the war has ended, but: How long can the United States maintain this tenuous balance before it is disrupted, either by choice or by chance?

Dr. Marwa El-Shinawy – Academic and Writer

The post Opinion | The Illusion of an End: Washington’s Strategy of Managing War without Fighting first appeared on Dailynewsegypt.

The newly declassified material reframes the political geometry of the war itself. It highlights the United States’ refusal to support Britain and France in the Tripartite Aggression of 1956—a decisive rupture that helped collapse the operation before it could achieve its objectives. That earlier American stance juxtaposes sharply with its present posture: Washington now criticises the lack of coordinated British and French backing in its war on Iran, even as it operates within far more entangled systems of alignment than it once rejected. Across both moments, Israel remains a constant denominator—and, in the view of some, instigator—equally active in 1956 and today. US President Donald Trump’s continued assertions over the strategic control of the Panama Canal reflect the same fixation: chokepoints are never just geography; they are leverage.

The documents further expose a fracture between Britain and France over how the operation itself should be recorded. The clandestine Sèvres Protocol of 22 October 1956 set out the mechanics of a coordinated attack on Egypt, yet both sides deliberately avoided producing a single formal document that would constitute legal proof of intent. The objective was not operational secrecy but documentary absence—preserving the narrative that intervention was aimed at restoring peace rather than executing a premeditated assault. Their plan entailed allowing Israel to invade Sinai, which would be defended by Egypt, before issuing an ultimatum to Egypt and Israel to withdraw from the Canal zone (whether Israel reached the Canal or not). Upon Egypt’s expected refusal, British and French forces would attack Egypt as a so-called peacekeeping mission under the pretext of protecting the Suez Canal.

That logic extended into constitutional evasion. The arrangement bypassed the procedural requirements of democratic systems, where declarations of war typically require parliamentary approval. Instead, it operated through a framework designed to avoid formal classification as war altogether—a structure that bears uncomfortable echoes in contemporary debates around modern military action, including American operations justified as limited engagements rather than declared war in the classical sense.

Stripped of the grand rhetoric that usually accompanies diplomatic history, the files reveal a grim reality. A striking memo details a frantic effort by the British Foreign Office to bypass Egyptian customs and financial regulations by smuggling massive quantities of hard currency into the country via diplomatic bags. These pouches, traditionally reserved for official correspondence and protected by international immunity, were repurposed to fund covert operations and sustain an unaccountable shadow apparatus of influence—an attempt to sabotage the consolidation of Egyptian unity.

London’s 1956 actions aimed to undermine Egypt’s financial and political leverage precisely at the moment it moved to reclaim control over the Canal. Alongside financial operations, British and French aircraft dropped Arabic-language leaflets over Egyptian cities and villages—a crude attempt to broadcast defeat to a nation they hoped would collapse.

In the recently aired Suez: 24 Hours That Broke the British Empire documentary, historian Alex von Tunzelmann describes this as a coordinated campaign of psychological warfare, noting the messaging was designed to convince Egyptians that resistance was futile and that abandonment was inevitable. Messages such as “we have the weapons to crush you” and “no one will help you” were designed to fracture morale at the precise moment sovereignty was being reasserted.

Despite the scale of this elaborate scheme, including covert financial transfers and intensive propaganda efforts, Egyptian society responded with cohesion around its leadership and sustained resistance throughout the conflict. The endurance of that response became central to the national narrative that followed, particularly in Port Said, where the confrontation assumed its most heroic form: a population that refused erasure under the most brutal foreign-coordinated military, financial, and psychological pressure.

The Suez Canal, at the centre of the 1956 Tripartite Aggression, is not merely a transit route but a foundational triumph carved from the nation’s bedrock into global maritime geography. A world increasingly adrift finds in it a point of stability, even as shipping routes are forced to adjust, and global trade absorbs the cost of rerouting around Africa.

The Suez Canal Authority’s expansion of the southern sector reflects this logic. Deepened channels and the widening of this passage are not cosmetic infrastructure projects, but long-term assertions of logistical investment—designed to secure competitive advantage in a global market marred by disruptions. The Egyptian spirit and determination of 1956 remains alive in these efforts, steered forward under the leadership of President Abdel Fattah el-Sisi as the Canal is further developed and its economic zone draws investment across vital industries.

April 25, Sinai Liberation Day, marking the 1982 consolidation of Egypt’s full territorial recovery, stands as a vital chapter in our story. Yet, it is the approaching milestone of November 2026—the seventieth anniversary of the 1956 victory—that offers the most significant moment for reflection. It is not only an anniversary of resistance, but a celebration of the strong will and perseverance that continue to define the nation. As we mark seventy years, we recognise this victory as a lasting symbol of national strength, anchoring us as we navigate the complexities of shifting global currents.

Nadine Loza is a development strategist, opinion columnist, and Founding Director of the Egypt Diaspora Initiative.

The post Opinion | Chokeholds of Civilisation first appeared on Dailynewsegypt.