Porti & ambiente — le notizie raccolte

I was born thirty-five years ago in a place called Mazinagar. My family lived on a narrow street, not far from the town square. At the time, there were only two other houses on the street; the rest was still farmland. The gate of our house opened to a courtyard, bordered by three small rooms and a kitchen. In the corner were two roofless latrines—one with the toilet and the other with a tap, bucket and footstool for bathing. Next to them was the handpump where we washed dishes and did our weekly laundry, creating ravines of soapy water that snaked their way around the courtyard. A chinaberry tree stood in the middle of the yard. A door led to the animal shed, where we kept two goats and a cow. On summer nights, when it was too hot to sleep inside the rooms, we dragged our charpoys out and set them in the courtyard. The sky was overlaid with a blanket of stars, and when we were young, my brother and I counted shooting stars together. Of all the siblings, only he and I were curious about this—why did stars burn themselves into darkness? He told me that I was the cleverest of us five, and that when I learned about stars in school, I should let him know the answer. When I think of that house, two sharp memories awaken. One is the smell of dust, clinging desperately to every object. The duvets under which my sisters and I shivered on cold nights remained thick with dust even after we beat at them with brooms at the start of each winter. Dust particles danced in streams of afternoon light when Mother swept the yard. A dry film coated the pitcher of water, the mirror in the bathroom and the front gate. The other is the smell of excrement. My three sisters and I shared the room next to the shed. All night, we smelled the faint whiff of animal dung, which Mother patted into cakes and slapped onto the back wall of the house, to be used later as kindling. For a few days each month, all of us bled together, so synchronized that we followed an order—first I started my period, then Azra did, then Zahida, then Rubina. The soiled rags we’d used were washed and hung to dry in the room, so there was often a hint of menstrual blood, which smells nothing like blood from a fresh wound but instead like the blood of animals sacrificed on Eid. Even on days when no one was bleeding and there were no damp rags in the corner, a stale odor remained, as if our blood had become its own animal, a fifth inhabitant of the room. In moments of fondness—those are rare, I am no nostalgist—I remember happier things from my childhood home. The small bubbles that formed on top of the butter Mother churned each morning. The laughter of the women who worked at the peanut farm nearby, as they walked past our house each dawn. The tinkling of bells that sounded throughout town in the evening, as the shepherds returned home with their flock. The wrinkled fruit of the chinaberry tree. The curls of Father’s tobacco smoke in the night air. * That year, again, my brother threatened to take me out of school. I was fifteen and he was twenty-two, and we were searching for a bride for him. Zahida and Rubina, my older sisters, were both engaged to our cousins, and the aunts had been restless for a while, demanding that the weddings take place soon. My mother wanted to sort out the matter of Lateef’s wife first. Azra was still too young to help at home and I was in school during the day. Mother didn’t want to lose all help around the house. “So take Tara out of school,” Lateef said, whenever this was brought up. “She’s wasting her time with those useless books.” “Let at least one of them study,” my mother grumbled back. We settled on a girl from a nearby village. My mother thought she was no match for Lateef’s beauty. And it was true that our brother’s thick, curly hair, long lashes, the scent of his attar, his broad shoulders and his height were the talk of the town. On his right hand sat the emerald ring I had always wanted, the one he inherited from our maternal grandfather. The green glinted when he entered the courtyard, or when he raised his hand to hit us. When we were very young, my sisters and I had considered ourselves lucky, with an older brother who was sweet and gentle, with none of the surly aggression we saw in our friends’ brothers. Whenever we got hold of money, which was rare, we asked him to get us fritters and roasted chickpeas from the market. Sometimes, he bought little gifts for us—hairpins, or cones of henna. We treasured these gifts, fought among ourselves like cats to claim them. I remember once, when we were quite young, Father’s radio played an old song about a lost brother. All four of us teared up, thinking how much we loved our own beautiful brother. But then things changed. Around the age of seventeen, Lateef dropped out of school. A couple of friends convinced him that it was a waste of time. Instead, he began buying and selling goats and chickens, and playing middleman to peanut farmers in the area. He became a different, more menacing man. He snapped at us, telling us that our clothes weren’t modest enough, the food not warm enough, the floors not clean enough. The speed and totality with which this happened shocked everyone except Mother, who said with pride that this aggression was what being a man meant. “A man’s only a man between fifteen and fifty,” she said, looking scornfully at our father, hunched over in his charpoy. Now, five years later, Lateef had sold a good amount of Mother’s gold to buy a corner shop a few minutes from the house. He had assumed the role of head of household, relinquished without regret by our mild-tempered father, who was content to sit in silence with his radio, listening to the transmission and turning the air hazy with pipe smoke. The shop made Lateef only a modest amount of money, barely enough to cover food for the seven of us, but it allowed him to observe everyone in the neighborhood. He knew who used the telephone at the shop to call the city, whose wife came to buy washing powder with her toenails painted, which family had enough to buy a month’s worth of lentils and rice, and which ones were so cash-strapped that they sent their children to get groceries at the end of the month, children who could ask for credit without shame. Expertly, my brother turned this gift of constant, intimate surveillance into social capital. Since nothing could be hidden from him, people didn’t hide anything from him, about themselves or others. My brother didn’t gossip or taunt, but simply held on to information like a trusted bank. Within months of opening the shop, he was a respected man in the neighborhood, entrenched in the social and economic life of our small town two hours from the country’s capital. With me, he held a peculiar, fierce grudge. He wanted me out of school. He had withdrawn all the other sisters one after the other, claiming that school did nothing but corrupt young women, filling their heads with ideas and making them shameless. When Azra was taken out, Lateef had insisted that I be as well, since I was older. Mother fell at his feet and threatened to stop eating. He backed down, but since then, he had a stick to threaten me with any time he was angry. “You wait,” he would say. “Any day, I’m going to take you out of that den of whores.” * Lateef and my parents went to visit his future wife’s father one afternoon in December. The man was kind, well-respected and eager to marry his daughter off. The mother had died of tuberculosis the previous year and there were no siblings, which was a tremendous benefit in my mother’s eyes—no one to fill her ears with nonsense. The father said he had nothing to give in dowry. The mother’s illness had eaten into everything they had saved. My mother assured him that we were not a money-minded family; all we wanted was his daughter’s hand in marriage. In fact, our father had been the town accountant before he retired, cycling from one house to another with a battered register clamped in the cargo rack. Lateef was a shopkeeper. Money was counted daily, spoken of incessantly, felt in its paucity like a ghost in each room. After they returned with a date for the wedding, Mother sat in her corner of the kitchen grinding garlic. “How can a mother eat into her daughter’s dowry? May God kill me before I even think of such a thing.” “God did kill her,” my father said softly, from his perch by the radio. About Father, there is little to be said. Compared to our mother, who had always been stocky, he was flimsy and weak, a negligible man. They looked lopsided whenever they walked on the street together—she, with curious, expressive eyes and a wide back, hair dyed a blazing red, and he, with his measured gait, bird bones and thinning white hair. His work as an accountant had spared him the sun marks and whittled skin that Mother carried. He rarely spoke, except to ask for his meals or a glass of water. When we were young, he had hit Mother for small things, like a piece of bread served cold, while we looked on, unflinching, curious the way one is curious about a partridge about to be hunted. But that was a long time ago; I could not remember the last time he raised his voice. My mother is a fool who can barely read the newspaper, but once, remembering the days of his youth, she had recited a verse in High Persian: “In old age, even the wolf becomes a saint.” * The wedding took place on an empty plot of farmland behind our house. The eve of the wedding, Lateef brought home a few bags of rose petals and we spread blankets in the courtyard. A handful of our girlfriends from school came over. For dinner and a small fee, Mother got an old woman from a neighboring village to come by with a small drum. We sang deep into the night, alternating between rural songs that the old drummer knew and film songs that a couple of friends who had TVs had learned by heart. We had begged many times for a TV, but money was always short, and Mother was scared of it. The first time she saw a TV at her sister’s house, she stared at the news reporter in petrified silence. Then she turned to us and asked, “What happens if he comes out?” Lateef’s wife, Salma, moved in with us. Mother had purchased a new bed and armoire for his room, and the walls were freshly distempered. Lateef had picked a soft pink color, and we giggled each time we walked past, tickled by the insinuations of the pink walls. “What’s so funny?” Mother asked. “Lateef has a wife now,” Zahida said, because she was the oldest and was afforded the most license. “So?” “So he and Salma must enjoy their nights.” The rest of us laughed a shy, lewd laughter, the kind that felt like acid climbing up your throat as soon as it ended. “What’s funny about that?” Mother asked. “Wait till you all get married. You’ll learn that there is nothing funny about that.” Zahida’s smile disappeared. Mother had a way of becoming a cloud over us. * For the first few days, we did not let Salma do any housework. Mother told her to sit back and enjoy being a new bride, something syrupy and artificial in her voice, like the scent of neem soap that almost covered the smell of shit in the latrine. “The henna on your hands hasn’t even washed off yet,” she said, shooing Salma away from the handpump. “I’ll need to do dishes for that to happen,” Salma replied, equally eager to please. Within weeks, however, many responsibilities had been shifted to her—not only the dishes, but also the kneading of dough for bread, the cutting of onions and tomatoes, the sweeping and sprinkling of water in the courtyard each evening, and the milking of the cow. On my walks back from school, I saw Salma instead of my mother sitting by the back wall of the house, shaping dung cakes and smacking them onto the bricks. Taking Mother’s lead, Zahida and Rubina also began handing off chore after chore to Salma, who must have expected this, because she never complained. Once, however, Mother found a pair of Zahida’s bloodstained underwear in the pile of clothes Salma was about to wash. She rushed to where Zahida was sitting on a charpoy, combing her wet hair. She snatched the comb and thwacked it on Zahida’s temple. “Who the fuck do you think you are? How dare you make her wash that?” Zahida looked up in shock, then began to swear with the same vitriol. She called Mother a fat, ugly hag. “I’m ashamed to walk down the street with you, you witch!” she screamed. Soon they were both stamping their feet and wagging their fingers, and Rubina and Azra were grinning, and the chickens in the courtyard were clucking as they went about looking for stray feed. This was how it always was. On the surface, we were better off than many families in town, with enough to eat, clothes that were always clean, heads that were not bowed down by generations of debt. But within the house, violence lurked like flammable gas. The potential for combustion was always present, the end of civility always near. * One night in April, we had just finished dinner when Lateef cleared his throat. Mother was preparing a pipe for Father, and my sisters were in their corner of the yard, reading the women’s magazines they borrowed from their friends each month. I was doing my homework. Salma was washing dishes at the handpump. “I’m thinking of taking Salma to Islamabad this weekend.” Mother frowned, then perked up. “To see a doctor?” She thought Salma might be pregnant already. “No, just for some sightseeing.” There was silence. My mother looked bewildered and even Father looked up. Lateef sheepishly raked his hand through his hair. “My friend from the wholesale market is letting me borrow his car. I figured she’s never been, so I’ll take her.” The sound of water sloshing had stopped. “Neither have your sisters. Why don’t you take them along as well?” From behind their magazines, Zahida and Rubina looked at one another. “What will they do there?” my brother said, irate. Not even he, who answered to no one, could admit that he wanted to spend a day alone with his wife. Love was the only forbidden emotion in our house. “The same things you’ll do,” Mother said curtly. “Either they go with you, or you’re not going.” So it was decided. On Sunday, all four of us woke up at dawn. We took turns ironing our clothes and putting on the lipstick and rouge that Zahida had purchased for the wedding. Salma hunched over the stove, making tea and bread for everyone. “Shouldn’t someone be helping her?” Zahida said, giggling, as she combed her hair. “Tara, go help your sister-in-law.” “No need,” my mother said. “She wants to be the madam of the house, doesn’t she, coming and going to the city with her husband in a car. Let her see what being a madam means.” Zahida and Rubina snickered, with a villainy that bordered on hysterical. Their own wedding dates were set, and they knew that soon enough they would be relegated to the same status as Salma. “We shouldn’t even be going,” I said. “What’s wrong with the two of them enjoying some time alone?” “And we stay back to do her work all day?” Rubina shot back. “You don’t have to worry, no one ever asks you to do anything because you’re always busy with your stupid books.” Ignoring the two of us, Mother said, “Make sure you stay close to them and listen for if she tries to fill his ears with rubbish.” As we lined up to squeeze into the back seat of the car, Lateef grabbed my face by the chin. “Wash the make-up off. Do you think you’re a film star?” “They’re both wearing it too,” I cried out, pointing to my older sisters. “I’m talking to you.” Hot tears poured from my eyes. “Go on, wash it off, we’ll wait,” he said, averting his eyes, calmer now that he had succeeded in rattling me. At my mother’s command, Zahida sat in the front seat with Lateef. The rest of us—Rubina, me, Azra and Salma—piled into the back. We drove out of town and past my mother’s old village, soon crossing the river that had been, till then, the boundary of all we had ever known. Around the Dharabi hills, the car started slowing down. Lateef said that there was too much weight in the back, causing us to break into hysterical laughter. “You, fatty, get in the front,” Lateef said, pulling the brake and looking at Salma in the rearview mirror. Zahida and Salma switched, and we continued driving past one ravine and the next, past hillocks and small pastures and rusty bridges. Everyone fell silent. Something new was happening, some history being made in the mile after mile we were putting between ourselves and home. Even Lateef changed. When we stopped at a petrol station, he bought crisps and cartons of juice for us, unasked, and Rubina teased him, “The change of scenery has turned our miserly brother generous.” We laughed, giddy, and he winked and continued to drink his juice. It was as if our hierarchies had drowned in the ravines, as if we were now different people, belonging to a different kind of family. We passed Chakwal and then Mandra, then got on to the G. T. Road. By the time we reached Islamabad, it was ten in the morning. Lateef stopped at a big market with outdoor seating. We sat in a corner, our faces half-covered with shawls, while he ordered tea and fritters. A thrill was coursing through me. A woman with her head uncovered passed by us. I looked away in embarrassment, thinking that her chadar had slid off and I was catching her in a moment of undress. But I looked again, and there was no chadar at all. The car park was full of shiny cars. Much of the signage was in English and, for the first time, my education was distinguishing me, because I could tell which shop was a bookseller and which one was a bank, because I could read English and none of the others could. The waiter brought over a tray filled with teacups and freshly fried food wrapped in the previous day’s paper: 9 April 1988, it said, under the masthead. Just as he placed the tray on the table, a massive explosion went off nearby. We all ducked down, and the waiter collapsed on the floor in shock. Several smaller explosions followed. Our teacups shook, and mine—closest to the edge—fell to the floor and shattered. My heart was thumping rapidly, and my ears were ringing. Some people ran inside shops for cover. We remained in our chairs, petrified. Azra and I clung on to each other’s hands. After a few minutes of silence, Lateef ran off to find out what had happened. He returned with little information besides what we already knew; there had been an explosion nearby. No one knew where. He looked shaken and said we should return home. We protested, begging him to stay. This was our first time away from Mazinagar, our first time in a city we had heard so much about. Who knew when we would do this again? The explosion had already happened, hadn’t it? After arguing for a while, he gave in. We went to the zoo, where we fed leftover fritters to the animals. Then we drove up a steep incline, the car gasping and belching, to see the green hills that circled the city. From above, the city appeared like a miracle. Who had created such a neat, tidily tucked-in place, with its angular streets and perfect squares lined with beautiful houses? My sisters and I gaped openly at every bareheaded woman we saw. Some of them wore perfume, so when they walked by us, the air turned alive with the fragrance of orange and jasmine. Their shoes were new. Their hair was neatly cut, unlike the wispy tendrils our braids ended in. Walking back to the car, I noticed a family. The father was wearing a button-down shirt, creased from wear but evidently well-ironed. The mother’s head was uncovered, and she wore light pink lipstick. They had two children—a boy and a girl—who were dressed in Western clothes—trousers for him, a dress for her—instead of the crumpled, hand-stitched clothes worn by children in Mazinagar. The man and his wife were sitting on a bench, the woman’s head on the man’s shoulder. The children were running after each other. I turned dizzy with longing. The whole drive back home, as we retraced our way over the ridges and ravines, the longing remained stuck like a bone in my throat. How would it feel to be that woman with the light pink lips? I returned to Mazinagar transformed. The place of my birth began to repel me in a way it never had. Now, I saw how petty and insignificant my little plot of the earth was. How sooty and unglamorous, how beholden to the old. As I lay down in my bed late that night, I promised myself that I would find a way to join the beautiful, free people of the city. __________________________________ FromA Splinteringby Dur e Aziz Amna. Used with permission of the publisher, DZANC Books. Copyright © 2026 by by Dur e Aziz Amna.

Una giornata tra mare, educazione e impegno civile per le nuove generazioni. La Lega Navale Italiana di Riposto si prepara ad accogliere, mercoledì 29 aprile, presso il Porto dell’Etna-Marina di Riposto, una tappa del ‘Progetto Vela & Salute’, iniziativa inserita nel più ampio programma nazionale ‘Mare di Legalità’, coordinato dalla Presidenza Nazionale della Lega Navale Italiana. L’evento, realizzato in collaborazione con istituzioni e partner del territorio, si svolgerà dalle ore 9:00 alle ore 13:00 e coinvolgerà studenti e giovani in un percorso educativo dedicato alla cultura del mare, alla tutela dell’ambiente marino e alla diffusione di corretti stili di vita. Il progetto, giunto alla sua quarta edizione, si inserisce in un più ampio programma di navigazione socio-solidale lungo le coste siciliane, con l’obiettivo di promuovere i valori della legalità, dell’inclusione e della solidarietà, anche attraverso il riutilizzo di imbarcazioni confiscate alla criminalità organizzata e restituite alla collettività. “Con questa iniziativa – dichiara il presidente della Lega Navale Italiana di Riposto, Giuseppe Ballistreri – vogliamo offrire ai giovani un’esperienza concreta che unisca educazione, legalità e conoscenza del mare. Il progetto rappresenta un’opportunità importante per avvicinare le nuove generazioni ai valori della cultura marinara, della tutela ambientale e della prevenzione, attraverso attività dirette e coinvolgenti che lasciano un segno duraturo”. Nel corso della mattinata gli studenti avranno l’opportunità di vivere un’esperienza diretta e formativa attraverso attività pratiche e momenti di approfondimento: potranno avvicinarsi alle tradizioni marinaresche attraverso laboratori dedicati, conoscere da vicino il mondo della formazione nautica e le tematiche legate alla sicurezza e all’ambiente, salire a bordo delle cosiddette ‘Imbarcazioni della Legalità’, simbolo concreto di riscatto e impegno civile, e visitare le unità della Sezione Operativa Navale della Guardia di Finanza di Catania. L’iniziativa si arricchisce, inoltre, della collaborazione con l’Istituto d’Istruzione Superiore ‘Amari Rizzo Pantano’, che, grazie alla disponibilità della dirigente scolastica Rosalba Mingiardi, consentirà agli studenti di visitare l’Istituto Tecnico Nautico e il planetario, offrendo un’ulteriore opportunità di approfondimento formativo legato al mondo della navigazione e della conoscenza scientifica. Particolare attenzione sarà rivolta anche ai temi della prevenzione sanitaria, con focus specifici sulla fibromialgia e sull’andrologia, che saranno trattati dal dott. Nino Papotto, socio della Lega Navale di Riposto, e della sensibilizzazione ambientale, con l’obiettivo di promuovere tra i giovani corretti stili di vita, rafforzare la consapevolezza civica e favorire una maggiore conoscenza e rispetto del mare. CataniaToday è anche su Mobile!Scarical’App per rimanere sempre aggiornato. © Riproduzione riservata

Fiachra Ó Cionnaith EU leaders believe the energy crisis could be "1973, 1979 and 2022 all in one in terms of the potential impact on the global economy," Taoiseach Micheál Martin has warned. Asked whether a mini-budget could take place before autumn to offset the energy crisis risks, the he added: "I don't anticipate that, no." Speaking to reporters on the final day of the EU's informal summit in Cyprus, Mr Martin said that "speaker after speaker" raised concerns during a working dinner of leaders yesterday evening. The Fianna Fáil leader said there is "a lot of pessimism" among EU leaders "in terms of the potential medium-term impact of the war on supply and on prices in particular", including "the knock-on impact on economies in Europe and across the world". "There is quite a lot of pessimism if there isn't an end to this war, and the European Commission and others are saying you've got to keep funding in reserve if the situation gets worse and deteriorates," he said. "Please God it doesn't, but we've got to be conscious of the fact the impacts of this oil shock could be more medium-term to longer-term, and all last night speaker after speaker were quoting the IEA [the International Energy Agency] saying this is 1973, 1979 and 2022 all in one in terms of potential impact on global economy." The Taoiseach said Department of Finance officials have predicted that "notwithstanding a worst case scenario we'll still grow" but warned "we're not immune to a downgrading of economic growth". He added that while there have been calls to spend money that is in reserve now "all of our surplus is currently being invested" in future initiatives such as off-shore wind energy, housing and other energy projects, arguing "so it's not as if the money is waiting there to be used". Read more:Ukraine loan sends signal on EU commitment, says Martin Mr Martin also said he "can't be overly confident" about the three-week ceasefire extension between Israel and Lebanon given repeated "violations" of previous ceasefires in the conflict zone. "I don't want to reveal everything in meeting that is discussed in a confidential way, but [during a working dinner of EU leaders on Thursday evening] I did raise that Europe's relationship with Israel has to come under the microscope in terms of what I believe has been reckless behaviour and shocking attacks on civilian infrastructure," he said. Mr Martin also said the "Hezbollah rockets into Israel have to stop" and that what he believes Lebanon needs is for all influential groups to "support and help" the Lebanese government rather than be involved in "endless attacks on civilian infrastructure". The second and final day of the meeting began in Lefkosia with a meeting of the European Council, ahead of a meeting of EU leaders with the presidents of Lebanon, Egypt, Syria, and the crown prince of Jordan. The discussion is expected to focus on the latest situation in the Middle East, and the ongoing Strait of Hormuz crisis. Among other topics due to be raised today will be the European Commission's proposed €1.8 trillion multi-annual budget, which is likely to form a key part of Ireland's EU presidency term when it begins in July. The seven-year budget, known as the multi-annual financial framework [MFF], has been put forward as a way to better plan the EU's finances. EU officials want to have the plan agreed before the start of next year and before the French elections in early 2027. However, it has yet to be finalised, meaning it will form a central part of Ireland's work during our six month EU presidency in the second half of this year. 'No Russians in the room' - Tusk Polish Prime Minister Donald Tusk quipped that there were finally "no Russians in the room", as Hungary's Kremlin-friendly premier Viktor Orban skipped the meeting after his crushing election loss. Mr Orban - who is set to leave office next month after 16 years in power - has been accused by critics of acting as a Trojan horse for the Kremlin at the EU's top table as he disrupted support for Ukraine. "For the first time in years there were no Russians in the room, if you know what I mean," Mr Tusk told journalists as he arrived at the summit venue in Cyprus. During Hungary's bitterly fought election campaign, a string of leaks emerged highlighting the extremely cosy links between top officials in Budapest and Moscow. That included a phone call in which Hungarian foreign minister Peter Szijjarto briefed his Russian counterpart Sergei Lavrov on EU summit discussions and offered to share confidential documents. The leaks sparked outrage among Hungary's EU counterparts. EU officials hope Mr Orban's looming exit will ease decision making in the bloc after years of blockages.In the wake of his election loss, the EU has already scored a breakthrough on Ukraine as Budapest dropped its veto ona massive loan for Kyiv. Some EU leaders, however, have cautioned against getting too carried away - and warned others could fill Mr Orban's shoes. "There is a little bit too much euphoria about the fact that Viktor is no longer there. In my experience, I've been here for a year and a half, he was, of course, often a difficult partner, but never an impossible partner," said Belgian Prime Minister Bart De Wever. "We'll find out in the next few months, but I do think that maybe some things towards Ukraine will become possible that have been very difficult up till now." Additional reporting AFP

Listen to this article in summarized format Unlock AI Briefing and Premium Content Investors should start deploying capital gradually: Daljeet Kohli BFSI sector looks attractive across the board, says DSP Mutual Fund's Preethi RS Stick to defensive and quality themes amid volatile global setup: Mayuresh Joshi (What's movingSensexandNiftyTracklatest market news,stock tips,Budget 2025,Share Market on Budget 2025andexpert advice, onETMarkets. Also, ETMarkets.com is now on Telegram. For fastest news alerts on financial markets, investment strategies and stocks alerts,subscribe to our Telegram feeds.) Subscribe toET Primeand read theEconomic Times ePaperOnline.andSensex Today. Top Trending Stocks:SBI Share Price,Axis Bank Share Price,HDFC Bank Share Price,Infosys Share Price,Wipro Share Price,NTPC Share Price (What's movingSensexandNiftyTracklatest market news,stock tips,Budget 2025,Share Market on Budget 2025andexpert advice, onETMarkets. Also, ETMarkets.com is now on Telegram. For fastest news alerts on financial markets, investment strategies and stocks alerts,subscribe to our Telegram feeds.) Subscribe toET Primeand read theEconomic Times ePaperOnline.andSensex Today. Top Trending Stocks:SBI Share Price,Axis Bank Share Price,HDFC Bank Share Price,Infosys Share Price,Wipro Share Price,NTPC Share Price How this man proved M&As need not be disasters even if tough 3 years on, India rebuilds aircraft lessors’ trust that Go First broke Locker to exchange: How India can become a global gold hub Natural diamonds lose sheen globally, in India they’re still ‘forever’ Amid FII flight and BoP strain, India bets on ‘patient capital’ Stock Radar: Down over 20% from highs! Jio Financial Services stock showing signs of bottoming out

Carolina Panthersgeneral managerDan Morgan drafted for needduring Thursday's opening round of the 2026 NFL Draft. With pick No. 19, Morgan selected offensive tackle Monroe Freeling. The former Georgia standout is expected to play an immediate rotational role in 2026. Ranked by ESPN as the draft's No. 2 tackle and 14th overall prospect, Freeling, who is capable of playing on both sides of the line, likely will start behind veteran right tackle Taylor Moton and left tackle Rasheed Walker, a free-agent signee who signed a one-year deal. Fifth-year tackle Ikem Ekwonu suffered a ruptured patellar tendon during the NFC Wild Card game last January and is expected to miss at least half of the upcoming season. Confident over filling most of the Panthers' glaring roster holes through free agency, Morgan anticipated having "a lot of possibilities. I think all positions are on the table." To shore up the tackle position, Morgan reached for a versatile lineman who, according to Scouts Inc., possesses "the prototypical frame for an NFL offensive tackle." Listed at 6-foot-7, 315 pounds, Freeling stepped into a starting role for the Bulldogs last season. Despite making only 17 SEC starts, Freeling displayed a quick first step and the ability to control opponents with a blend of flexibility and power. With the Bulldogs, Freeling often made his way to the second level of the defense. That ability could fit well with the Panthers' run-first approach. Scouts Inc. suggested there are things Freeling needs to work on durign the upcoming offseason program. "There are times when Freeling stops moving his feet on contact and he can be beaten off the edge by speed," the scouting service revealed. The Panthers' rookie minicamp begins May 8-10.

Openness, innovation, entrepreneurship: tools to counter America’s greatest rival. This is an excerpt from a discussion of global and strategic issues published inFinishing the Inflation Job and New Challenges for Monetary Policy,edited by Michael E. Bordo, John H. Cochrane, and John B. Taylor (Hoover Institution Press, 2026). Clickhereto buy. The defining competition of the twenty-­first ­century has been and will continue to be one between closed, authoritarian systems and ­free, open socie­ties. ­Free and open socie­ties appear to be at a disadvantage, ­because the United States, ­ European countries, Japan, Australia, and ­others ­were, for much of the past two ­ decades, absent from critical arenas of competition. That absence was due to what we might callstrategic narcissism:the tendency since the end of the Cold War to define prob­lems as we might like them to be and indulge in the conceit that ­others have no aspirations or agency of their own. Strategic narcissism led some to believe that the “arc of history” had guaranteed the primacy of ­free and open socie­ties over authoritarian and closed systems. Some also assumed that old features of geopolitics and international relations had become passé; global governance and a great-­power condominium had displaced great-power competition. A corollary to ­those assumptions was that China, having been welcomed into the international order, would play by the rules and, as it prospered, would liberalize its economy and its form of governance. Overcoming our self-­referential view of the world requires an emphasis on what historian and Hoover national security visiting fellowZachary Shorecallsstrategic empathy.Strategic empathy attends to the ideology, aspirations, and emotions that drive and constrain competitors. Empathy fosters a higher degree of competence ­because understanding the other exposes the unrealistic, often implicit assumptions that underpin policies, and it reveals dangerous cognitive traps such as optimism bias and confirmation bias. Assumptions about the post–­Cold War world turned out to be false. In this ­ century, a new great-­power competition has emerged. The actions of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP), actions driven by the party leaders’ fears and ambitions, have revealed to the world that its Leninist system ­will prevent the Chinese ­people from realizing Milton Friedman’s and John Taylor’s vision of a ­ free market that empowers individuals and drives prosperity by allowing ­people to make their own choices. As Friedman once observed, “Underlying most arguments against the ­free market is a lack of belief in freedom itself.” The CCP is intensifying efforts to extend and tighten its exclusive grip on power internally and gain preponderant power in pursuit of “national rejuvenation” externally, through a campaign of co-option, coercion, and concealment. China co-opts countries, international corporations, and elites through false promises of impending liberalization, through insincere pledges to work on global issues, and especially through the lure of short-­term profits and access to the Chinese market, investments, and loans. Co-option includes debt traps set for corrupt or weak governments. Co-option makes countries and corporations dependent and vulnerable to coercion. The CCP coerces ­others to ignore its efforts to extinguish human freedom internally. And it applies coercive power to reshape the international order to ­favor its authoritarian, mercantilist model. Examples include the CCP’s subversion of the World Health ­Organization, the ­Human Rights Council, UNESCO, and the International Civil Aviation ­Organization, to name a few. While some industry groups and individuals still advocate for the accommodation of the CCP, it has become painfully clear that the free world must return to arenas of competition. To compete effectively, we must correct fundamental misunderstandings concerning the nature of the threat from the CCP and then discuss how the ­free world might prevail in competition and secure a better ­future for generations to come.A common understanding of the nature of the threat could then generate the resolve to turn what authoritarian regimes regard as the weaknesses of ­free socie­ties and free-market economies into our greatest competitive advantages. · · · The CCP uses two fundamental misunderstandings to justify various forms of aggression internally, as it perfects its Orwellian surveillance state, and externally, as it pursues primacy through programs such as Military-­Civil Fusion, Made in China 2025, and One ­Belt One Road. As our colleague Elizabeth Economy has made clear, the CCP is pursuing a multipronged strategy composed of several high-­profile initiatives that together aim to reshape global norms in accordance with China’s state-­led model. ­These include theGlobal Development Initiative,theGlobal Security Initiative,and the most ambitious of all, theGlobal Civilization Initiative, to extend CCP influence over economic, security, and cultural governance worldwide. The first misunderstanding is that Chinese aggression is the result of US-­China tensions, a reaction to the Trump administration’s description of China as a rival, or the imposition of very high tariffs. This misunderstanding derives from the narcissistic assumption that the party has no aspirations of its own and has no volition except in reaction to the United States. However, consider the party’s deliberate suppression of the COVID-19 outbreak, the persecution of doctors, journalists, and ­others who tried to warn the world, and the subversion of the World Health ­Organization. Adding insult to injury, the party’s“Wolf Warriors”obscured China’s responsibility for foisting the pandemic on the world and portrayed its response and its authoritarian system as superior. Consider the massive global cyberattacks on medical research facilities in the midst of the pandemic and thepunitive cyberattackson and economic coercion of Australia for having the temerity to suggest an inquiry into the virus’s origins. In 2024, the US Department of Justice revealed that the China-linked cyber group Volt Typhoon had stealthily infiltrated US critical infrastructure networks for future espionage. Consider physical aggression on India’s Himalayan frontier, in the South China Sea, in the Senkaku Islands, and especially ­toward Taiwan. Consider Xi Jinping’s boasts of his intention to expand concentration camps in Xinjiang as he races to perfect an Orwellian surveillance state. It should be clear to all that it was not the United States or even Donald Trump’s constant refusal to be respectful of ­others that caused this be­hav­ior. So let all of us acknowledge that CCP aggression is not a US prob­lem. It is a whole-­world and especially a free-­world prob­lem. It is essential that we correct this misunderstanding, since its corollary among nations in ­Europe and across the Indo-­Pacific region is that the United States is asking them to choose between Washington and Beijing. And it is not a choice between Washington and Beijing; it is a choice between sovereignty and servitude. The second misunderstanding is that competition with China is dangerous or even irresponsible ­because of aThucydides Trapthat pre­sents us with a binary choice between passivity and a destructive war. That is a false dilemma, and I would argue that passivity in connection with CCP aggression in the South China Sea and elsewhere has put us on a path to conflict. Had we remained complacent ­under the strategy of engagement and cooperation, China would likely have become even more aggressive. But the party promotes the false dilemma associated with a Thucydides Trap to portray efforts to defend against its aggression as simply the status quo power, the United States, trying to keep the rising power, China, and its ­people down. · · · Although the CCP views freedom of expression as a weakness to be suppressed at home and exploited abroad, our competitive advantage is what we regard as unalienable, universal rights: the ­free exchange of information and ideas.­ People who direct academic exchanges or are responsible for Chinese students’ experiences should ensure that ­these students enjoy the same freedom of thought and expression as other students. That means adopting a zero-­ tolerance attitude for CCP agents who monitor and intimidate students. When universities and other hosting bodies protect the freedoms that ­these students should enjoy, it serves to ­counter the propaganda and censorship to which the students are subjected in their home country. Freedom of expression and freedom of the press also play a key role in promoting good governance to inoculate countries from bad deals ­under One ­ Belt One Road. Exposing the CCP’s co-option of corporate and governmental elites and its coercive practices that force companies and governments to act against the long-­term interests of their shareholders and their citizens prevents the CCP from portraying its egregious acts as normal. ­Free and open socie­ties must condemn the punishment of courageous Chinese journalists who expose the party’s repression and persecution of its ­people. And companies should stop the practice of helping the party obscure its heinous repression of ­human freedom in Xinjiang, in Hong Kong, and across the country. As with freedom of expression, the CCP views tolerance of diversity as a threat. Although some might see expanded immigration from an authoritarian state as a danger, the United States and other ­free and open socie­ties should consider issuing more visas and providing paths to citizenship for more Chinese ­people, especially ­those who have been oppressed at home. Immigrants who have experienced an authoritarian system are often most committed to and appreciative of demo­cratic princi­ples, institutions, and pro­cesses. They also make tremendous contributions to our economies. The CCP views its centralized, statist economic system as bestowing advantages, especially the ability to successfully coordinate efforts across government, business, academia, and the military. And it views decentralized, free-­market economic systems as unable to compete with China’s centrally directed strategies. That is why our free-­market economies need to demonstrate the competitive advantages of decentralization and unconstrained entrepreneurialism. Competition between the ­free world and authoritarian regimes­ will determine ­ whether democracy and free-­market economies prevail over authoritarianism and statist economic models. China and Rus­sia have expanded their self-­described “partnership with no limits” into an axis of aggressors that includes the dictatorships in North ­Korea and Iran, while they advance initiatives to displace US influence and power. Winning this competition and addressing other cross-­border challenges and threats such as terrorism, climate change, and proliferation of weapons of mass destruction requires a statecraft that draws on all sources of national power in an integrated manner. ­These sources of power include US military strength, its global diplomatic reach, the gravitational attraction of American ideals such as liberty and opportunity, and the US economy. US administrations consistently undervalue the degree to which strategic application of economic power is essential for advancing US vital interests. President Trump has a historic opportunity to correct this chronic shortcoming in US ­grand strategy with an integrated strategy for economic statecraft oriented on securing the nation, reinforcing our technology innovation ecosystems, and shaping fair, reciprocal trade and commercial relationships. Action is necessary to ­counter Chinese economic aggression, coercive or nonmarket actions by the CCP that bully allies or hurt American manufacturing. Action is also necessary to foster market conditions to ensure that the private sector meets critical national security needs in semiconductors, critical minerals, and other sectors. The Trump administration must recognize, however, that ­these more interventionist economic statecraft policies ­will inevitably result in trade-offs. An overarching framework of principles and objectives—­a strategy—is therefore essential to help policymakers decide among competing trade-­offs. A first step ­toward preserving competitive advantage is to crack down on Chinese theft of our technologies. The Trump administration should require companies to report investments by China-­related entities, technology transfer requests from China, and participation in the CCP’s core technology development or in its ­People’s Liberation Army (PLA) modernization programs. There is much room for improvement in the effort to prevent China from using the open nature of our economies not only to promote its state cap­i­tal­ist model and undermine confidence in our democracies but also to perfect its surveillance police state. Finally, strengthening free-­market economies and demo­cratic governance could be the best means of countering the CCP’s campaign of co-option, coercion, and concealment. Deregulation and permitting reform are crucial for competing with the ­People’s Republic of China. Government and private-­sector investment in technologies in the areas of artificial intelligence, robotics, augmented and virtual real­ity, and materials science ­will prove crucial for maintaining differential advantages over an increasingly capable and aggressive PLA. Support for­ free markets and demo­cratic institutions, as well as the unalienable rights that should be afforded to all ­peoples, is not just an exercise in altruism. Protection of ­these rights and promotion of demo­cratic governance are practical means of competing effectively with the CCP while building a better world for ­ future generations.