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Donald Trump claims to have ended a 10th war – but will the Lebanon ceasefire hold?

Israel’s security cabinet first heard about the ceasefire with Lebanon from a social media post by Donald Trump. Hezbollah first heard about the ceasefire from the Iranian ambassador to Lebanon. Each side shot off as many bombs, drones and rockets as they could before the ceasefire – imposed from above – came into effect. Despite the US president claiming it is the 10th war he has ended, the situation on the ground in Lebanon looks anything but stable. Israeli troops remained in their positions deep in Lebanon on Friday, firing artillery shells and machine gun bursts at residents who got too close hours after the ceasefire. Hezbollah said it would respect the ceasefire but its fighters’ fingers “remained on the triggers”. The 10-day ceasefire in Lebanon delivers a temporary halt to the fighting. But the text of the agreement solves none of the fundamental problems that brought Hezbollah and Israel to war and – absent a radical shift in both parties’ positions – fighting could easily resume. The sources of the conflict are Hezbollah’s arms and Israel’s continued occupation of southern Lebanon and bombing across the country. The ceasefire is meant to give space for direct negotiations between the Lebanese and Israeli governments. The fact that direct negotiations are taking place between the two governments is an achievement in itself – they have not spoken directly in decades and do not enjoy diplomatic relations. The negotiators have their work cut out for them. According to the text of the deal, the goal of the talks will be to achieve “lasting peace” between the two countries where the Lebanese government has the exclusive monopoly of force in its territory and there is a formal demarcation of a border that has been contested since 2000. To achieve those goals, the status of Hezbollah’s arms will have to be settled and Israeli forces will have to withdraw from Lebanese territory. Hezbollah, while abiding by the ceasefire and appointing Iran as its steward in the larger US-Iran talks, has called on the Lebanese government to not engage in direct talks with Israel. The Lebanese government continues with its diplomacy, without the group’s mandate, and its ability to impose the terms of a deal without outside support, is in doubt. Hezbollah’s base, which has borne the brunt of the war, is more alienated from the Lebanese government than ever. It views it as impotent and unable to defend the country from Israeli aggression. Many saw the picture of Lebanon’s flag standing beside the Israeli flag in Washington on Tuesday as a humiliating capitulation, particularly as it was taken while Israeli jets still bombed the country with impunity. Residents of Lebanon’s south returned to their villages to find their homes in ruins, Israeli soldiers in the near distance. Almost 2,200 people have been killed by Israel over the past month, many of them women, children and elderly – deaths which no one has taken accountability for. The argument for retaining Hezbollah’s weapons, to the group’s supporters, is stronger than ever. To those outside Hezbollah’s base, there is little alternative to negotiations. What Hezbollah defined as victory – battling Israel for 44 days in south Lebanon – seems like a bitter defeat to them. They were dragged into a war by a group they did not elect, and lost much of southern Lebanon and many of their own lives in the process. Domestically, the resulting picture is fraught and confrontational. Unlike the 2024 ceasefire agreement which also sought Hezbollah’s disarmament, there can be no more stalling. The issue of Hezbollah’s arms will have to be decided, and now it is being done in an even more challenging context. In Israel, there is also pressure for the war in Lebanon to continue. The ceasefire announcement enraged many residents of northern Israel who wanted the conflict to finally end the threat from Hezbollah. A poll by Israel’s Channel 12 last week found that almost 80% of respondents wanted continued strikes on the armed group. Israeli officials’ statements, while boasting of military victory over Hezbollah, contained an implicit threat that the war could resume if their demands were not met by Lebanon. Israel’s defence minister, Israel Katz, said on Friday: “The ground manuever into Lebanon and the attack on Hezbollah throughout Lebanon have achieved many achievements but are still not complete; the goal we defined: disarming Hezbollah by military or diplomatic means, was and remains the goal of the campaign to which we are committed.” Trump was less cavalier about Israel’s ability to resume a military campaign, saying on Friday that it was “prohibited” from bombing Lebanon any longer, while announcing a deal with Iran over enriched uranium. His statement came even as Israel’s prime minister, Benjamin Netanyahu, said his country had not “finished the job” of dismantling Hezbollah. It remains to be seen whether Trump’s attention will remain on Lebanon and he continues to exert pressure on Israel to lay off Lebanon. Just as the ceasefire was imposed from above, its path forward into a lasting peace runs through Washington and Tehran, even if the negotiators are coming from Beirut and Tel Aviv. Sustained, intense international focus will have to remain on the Lebanon-Israel peace talks, or else the war will resume.

Middle East crisis live: Trump claims US has ‘prohibited’ Israel from bombing Lebanon as Iran says strait of Hormuz open to commercial ships

When asked about a Truth Social post made by Donald Trump in which he claimed that Nato offered to help the US with the strait of Hormuz, a Nato official responded: NATO observed today’s meeting on freedom of navigation in the Strait of Hormuz and is closely monitoring the military planning being carried out. In the post, Trump said Nato was “useless when needed” and had only offered to help after the strait was reopened, describing the military alliance as a “paper tiger”.

EU officials arrive in Hungary for high-stakes talks with Magyar’s government

EU officials have arrived in Budapest for high-stakes talks aimed at reshaping the bloc’s strained relationship with Hungary, weeks before the new government takes office, as the country’s departing prime minister, Viktor Orbán, admitted a “political era has ended” and suggested he would stay on as leader of his party in his first interview since the election. Speaking to the pro-government outlet Patrióta, Orbán described Sunday’s election as an “emotional rollercoaster” after the opposition Tisza party won a landslide victory, bringing an end to his 16 years in power. Péter Magyar’s party won a supermajority, giving it the power to amend the constitution and potentially roll back key pillars of Orbán’s foray into “illiberal democracy”. The scope of the loss has prompted questions over what lies ahead for Orbán, whose decades-long political career has been marked by his efforts since 2010 to steadily whittle away at the checks and balances that constrained his government’s power: rewriting election laws to its own benefit, manoeuvring to put loyalists in control of an estimated 80% of Hungary’s media and retooling the country’s judiciary. Speaking late on Thursday, Orbán said the results had laid bare that his rightwing populist Fidesz party was in need of a “complete renewal”. Asked who was responsible for the defeat, Orbán said he had no one to blame but himself. “Well, as I am the president of the party … I must take 100% ⁠of this responsibility upon myself,” he said. He added that Fidesz would vote on new leadership in June. “It will not be me who decides what I should do,” he said. “If they say that I need to take the team out into the field, then I will take them to the next match.” His comments came hours before a delegation from the EU was due to arrive in Budapest, in what is widely being seen as a critical reset for both sides. For the bloc, the visit marks a chance to turn the page on Orbán’s tempestuous tenure and persuade Hungary to lift its veto on a €90bn (£78bn) loan to Ukraine. Magyar, meanwhile, is scrambling to unlock about €17bn in frozen EU funds. Looming over the talks is a time crunch. “The clock is ticking for a number of topics,” the EU commission’s chief spokesperson, Paula Pinho, told reporters on Thursday, as she explained why officials were travelling to Budapest before Magyar takes office in early May. “Obviously it is in the interest of Hungary, it is in the interest of the EU that we make progress as soon as possible … and that we do not waste any time.” The frozen funds include nearly €17bn from the EU budget – €10bn of which will expire at the end of August – that require Hungary to implement conditions such as checks on corruption, the right to asylum and academic freedom. More than €16bn in low-interest defence loans could also be on offer. Orbán’s government said the ousted leader would not attend his final EU summit next week, sparing EU officials a potential showdown over his continued veto of the €90bn loan for Ukraine. During the talks on Friday, Magyar and Tisza would probably be pulled between campaign promises, the demands of the EU and the institutional constraints created by Fidesz’s 16 years in power, said Péter Krekó, the director of the Budapest-based Political Capital thinktank. “Tisza has to cut this Gordian knot somehow, which will not necessarily be very easy,” he said. Since taking power in 2010, Orbán and his party have stacked the Hungarian state, media and judiciary with loyalists, and it remains unclear how they will react to changes made by a Tisza-led government. Even so, there was plenty of will among the EU and Tisza to hash out solutions, said Krekó. “The EU funds will be desperately needed so that Tisza can deliver at least on some of their promises,” he said, while the EU was aware that the alternative could see a return to the “obstructive and destructive” relationship it had with Orbán. “I think the political will is definitely there to have the new government deliver so that Orbán does not return to power.” In the days since Sunday’s election, Magyar has sought to reinforce his message of “regime change” with a series of actions and statements making clear his intent to break from Hungary’s recent past. He has called for the resignation of the country’s two highest courts, audit office and competition and media authorities, as well as the chief prosecutor and Hungary’s president, describing them as “puppets” of the former regime. In a Wednesday interview with state-run news outlets, he vowed to suspend their news coverage, accusing them of spreading fear, lies and propaganda befitting North Korea and Nazi-era Germany. The following day, he said on social media that he would not move into Orbán’s office in the historic Castle Quarter, which towers over Budapest and overlooks the Danube River, but instead set up shop in a ministry building near Hungary’s parliament. He also reiterated a campaign pledge to impose term limits on prime ministers – a move that could block Orbán from returning to power – while pledging to pursue those who had “plundered, looted, betrayed, indebted and ruined” the country. On Thursday, Orbán said he had been filled with “pain and emptiness” as the results of the election became clear. “Even I thought we were going to win. There were so many of us everywhere.” He emphasised, however, that the party continued to have a wide voter base, winning nearly 2.4m votes in a country of 9.5 million people. “Let’s not act like the whole country rejected our government,” Orbán said.

MPs and peers approve law to pardon women convicted over abortions as far back as 1800s

Legislation to pardon women who have been convicted of illegal abortions has passed its final parliamentary hurdle, paving the way for a landmark change in the law in England and Wales. The amendment to the crime and policing bill, which will also expunge the police records of those arrested and investigated over illegal abortions, was considered in the House of Lords during a phase of parliamentary ping-pong, where a bill passes back and forth between the Lords and Commons. The bill is expected to receive royal assent – meaning it will become law – in the coming weeks. The same legislation will also put an end to prosecutions of women who terminate their own pregnancies, with a clause in the bill introduced in the Commons last year by the Labour backbencher Tonia Antoniazzi. “I’m very pleased that parliament has approved a protection for women already harmed by outdated criminal law related to abortion. This will mean a great deal to these women who have been through an awful ordeal,” Antoniazzi said. “Automatic pardons for convictions or cautions, and expunging the records of arrests and investigations, will enable these women to participate fully in society again, seeking the jobs and careers they’ve always wanted without having to repeatedly disclose and rehash their ordeal, travelling to places they wish to,” she added. “They can move through life without this hanging over them in the form of a record.” Julia Porter Burke, a doctoral candidate at Columbia University writing a dissertation on the crime of abortion in England and Wales in the 19th century, found that “over a century, in all English and Welsh assize courts with extant records, only 20 women were charged with procuring their own abortions.” While data on more recent abortion cases is patchy, figures suggest that as many women have been charged over the past 20 years as were in the entire 19th century. Among the women who stand to be pardoned, as uncovered in Burke’s doctoral research, is Fanny Warboys, who in 1862 was the first woman criminalised under the 1861 Offences Against the Person Act. Warboys was a widow who had a backstreet abortion and ended up grievously injured. After being told that she was likely to die, she told her doctor, and then the police, about the backstreet provider who had harmed her. However, she survived – and was promptly put on trial and found guilty by a jury. “The prisoner, on hearing [the maximum sentence was penal servitude for life], here sank into the arms of the gaoler in a state of insensibility. On her recovery, the learned Judge sentenced her to three months’ imprisonment.” Mary Jane Baynon, 32, was jailed for three months in 1891. A widow with children, she had travelled 500 miles, from her home in Sligo in western Ireland to London, to find a surgeon to provide an abortion. While she sat waiting for her appointment, the man telephoned the police. It later transpired that he wasn’t a surgeon, but instead had been jailed for perjury and fined for falsely representing himself as a doctor. As she was led away, Baynon addressed him in court, saying: “You might have let me go, if you didn’t intend to do it.” There was also evidence in the court records of 19th-century judges showing compassion for women who found themselves before the courts. In 1881, Emma Sarah Rice, 25, was found guilty of an illegal abortion, but she was still pregnant and in ill health, and was sentenced to just one day without hard labour. “His Lordship said he thought the woman was more to be pitied than condemned, and as far as punishment, it appeared to him that had been more than adequate already,” it was reported at the time. However, while women will no longer be prosecuted, and those already convicted will be pardoned, there are concerns that women who are currently under investigation may still face criminalisation – even though their cases may not come to court until after the law has changed. “Parliament has been clear that no woman should be criminalised for abortion and this is now set to become law,” Antoniazzi said. “The police and CPS [Crown Prosecution Service] must hear that and stop current investigations – wasting public money investigating and prosecuting women for a crime which will no longer be a crime and for which they will then be automatically pardoned is, frankly, ludicrous.” The CPS and the National Police Chiefs’ Council were approached for comment.

‘Popesplaining’ Vance out of depth in argument over whether Iran is a just war

The contrast in experience between the two men disagreeing over war and theology was striking. On the one side was Pope Leo XIV, the first North American to head the Catholic church and the first cleric from the Augustinian order, who this week visited the modern Algerian city where Saint Augustine once lived. For Leo, who wrote his doctoral thesis on Augustine’s ideas, it was the culmination of a lifelong intellectual interest. On the other, the US vice-president, JD Vance, a very recent adult convert to Catholicism with no academic background in the history of the church’s thinking. At the heart of their disagreement: how Augustine, the fourth-century thinker, framed the idea of a “just war” after centuries in which the early Christian tradition had rejected war and violence, even in self-defence. It is one of the most persistently important ideas in western thinking. Every major philosopher, jurist and theologian on the subject has weighed in on it over the centuries. The dispute is one strand of the intense controversy caused by the Trump administration’s efforts to imbue the US war against Iran with an incoherent Christian militancy. At its most bizarre, the US president posted an image of himself on social media as a Christ-like figure healing the sick under flying jets and armed supernatural beings. The US defence secretary, Pete Hegseth, has meanwhile conducted himself like a modern crusader, claiming the mantle of a righteous violence. In a series of interventions last month, Leo said Christ’s teaching rejected war and that moreover, he “does not listen to the prayers of those who wage war, but rejects them”. In recent weeks his discourse has became more pointed. Trump’s threat on 7 April that “a whole civilisation will die tonight” unless Iran made a deal with the US was “truly unacceptable”, he said, adding that such attacks would violate international law. Vance delivered his reply at an event for the conservative group Turning Point USA at the University of Georgia on 14 April. “When the pope says that God is never on the side of people who wield the sword, there is more than a 1,000-year tradition of just-war theory,” Vance said. “How do you say that God is never on the side of those who wield the sword?” he asked, citing the example of US troops that had liberated France from the Nazis and freed prisoners from the Holocaust camps. “I think it’s very, very important for the pope to be careful when he talks about matters of theology,” Vance said. “If you’re going to opine on matters of theology, you’ve got to be careful.” Vance’s attack drew accusations on social media that he was “popesplaining” theology to the pontiff. Augustine himself had argued that a just war was the business of the state. It could be justified if it was fought with the “right intention” and in pursuit of restoring peace. The leader who waged war should be like a Christian judge; the innocent should be protected; actions motivated by revenge, wrath or greed invalidated any claim to justice. The tests set by Augustine and the thinkers that followed remain the guiding principles of conflict law. In an interview with the Catholic Standard in March, Cardinal Robert McElroy of Washington DC said the US and Israeli attack on Iran had failed the just-war criteria. “You cannot satisfy the just war tradition’s criterion of right intention if you do not have a clear intention,” the cardinal said. Then on Wednesday, Bishop James Massa, the chair of the US Conference of Catholic Bishops’ committee on doctrine, intervened on behalf of the Catholic bishops in the US to make clear that Leo’s comments were not a question of the pope’s “opinion” but Catholic teaching contained in the catechism, the collected doctrine of the church. “For over 1,000 years, the Catholic church has taught just-war theory, and it is that long tradition the Holy Father carefully references in his comments on war,” Massa said. “A constant tenet of that 1,000-year tradition is a nation can only legitimately take up the sword ‘in self-defence, once all peace efforts have failed’. That is, to be a just war it must be a defence against another who actively wages war, which is what the Holy Father actually said: ‘He does not listen to the prayers of those who wage war.’” While many have been offended both by Trump’s posting of himself as Jesus and the attacks on the pope, inevitably, the row has drawn in Trump’s most reliable defenders, including the House speaker, Mike Johnson, who identifies as a Southern Baptist and appears as foggy as Vance about the point Leo was making. “If you wade into political waters, you should expect some political response,” said Johnson. Others, such as the conservative Catholic New York Times columnist Ross Douthat, have found themselves straddling the fence, at once complaining that the church can seem hostile to conservatives, while conceding that the Trump administration’s justifications for the war against Iran are ever changing and sometimes evaporating. “Is the war just or is it not?” asks Douthat, offering his own arguments about why it might be just. “The administration simply has not made a coherent and consistent case for the justice of the conflict.”

How Pakistan’s army chief became an unlikely peacemaker in the Iran war

Stepping off a plane on Wednesday evening, Field Marshal Asim Munir walked straight into the warm embrace of Iran’s foreign minister and chief negotiator, Abbas Araghchi. Dressed in full army fatigues, the powerful chief of Pakistan’s military cut an unusual figure as a beacon for peace. Yet that was just the role he intended to play. Munir had rushed to Tehran in what many saw as a last-ditch attempt to revive Pakistan’s efforts to mediate an end to the war between the US and Iran. Four days earlier, the US vice-president, JD Vance, left Islamabad, after more than 21 hours of talks between the US and Iran failed to broker a deal. But even as the US president, Donald Trump, quickly lashed out, imposing a naval blockade on the strait of Hormuz that risked escalating the war, he also praised Munir’s “fantastic” efforts in continuing negotiations between the two sides. On Wednesday night, the army chief arrived in Tehran with a new proposal from Washington of a framework for a fresh round of talks in Islamabad next week. Pakistan has emerged as an unlikely diplomatic broker between Iran and the US, and Munir is widely seen as a key driving force. Pakistan’s army chief was one of the few able to get the US and Iranian leadership on the phone, passing along messages as a trusted intermediary to both sides. It is widely acknowledged that the negotiations have been coordinated from Rawalpindi, the seat of the army, rather than Islamabad, the seat of the parliament. “Field Marshal Munir is the driving force – without him this would not work,” said Maleeha Lodhi, who served as Pakistan’s former ambassador to the UN, US and UK. “The foreign ministry is just a junior partner. Countries like Iran and the US have this confidence in Asim Munir. Our government ministers are really an adjunct.” It was Munir’s phone calls that led the frantic international efforts last week, which resulted in a last-minute ceasefire agreement after Trump’s threat that Iran’s civilisation would “die” if they did not agree to a deal. Trump is said to have directly leaned on Munir to use his influence and knowledge of the Iranians to help reach the off-ramp. And when the US and Iranian delegations met in Islamabad on Saturday, Munir was the third party in the room. This week, Munir travelled to Iran as the critical messenger and negotiator, while Pakistan’s prime minister, Shehbaz Sharif, took a diplomatic trip to Saudi Arabia to shore up regional support for the country’s peacemaking efforts. Analysts have emphasised that it is not unusual for Pakistan’s army chief – an unelected, yet overwhelmingly powerful position – to shape the country’s foreign policy and to be the face of foreign engagements, even when civilian governments are supposedly in charge. US presidents have long preferred dealing with Pakistan’s military leaders rather than their democratically elected ones. Yet Munir was not always an obvious international statesman, say experts. After his appointment in 2022, his focus was largely on domestic issues, including a crushing of the country’s political opposition and orchestrating an unprecedented concentration of his own power within Pakistan. However, over the past year and a half, he has pushed himself as a global ambassador, cultivating strong relationships in Washington, Riyadh and Tehran. By the end of 2025, he had visited the White House twice, overseen US-Pakistani deals on crypto and mineral mining and signed a defence pact with Saudi Arabia. “He’s been very good at building relationships with leaders and countries through frequent visits and communication,” said Lodhi. “He’s not laid-back. He’s not somebody who’s going to wait for a call. As we’ve seen in his diplomatic activism, he’ll pick up the phone himself.” Crucial to Munir’s current clout as a trusted intermediary was his part in rebuilding US-Pakistani relationships during the second Trump administration, through a combination of strategic wins, lobbying, flattery and deals. He gave Trump an early victory by handing him several high-profile terrorists who were extradited to the US. Then, when the US intervened in the rising hostilities between India and Pakistan in May 2025, Pakistan effusively thanked Trump and even went on to nominate him for the Nobel peace prize. Munir successfully managed to claim victory in that conflict, further elevating his position domestically and internationally. Two months later, and after more than $5m (£3.7m) spent by Pakistan on Washington lobbyists, Munir was invited to the White House for a private lunch. He appeared to charm the US president with a combination of flattery and lucrative investment opportunities in Pakistan, ranging from oil to minerals and crypto. Trump liked Munir so much he was formally invited back to the Oval Office within months. The president showered him with gushing praise, calling him an “exceptional man”, a “greater fighter” and “my favourite field marshal”. Munir is also well versed in communicating with Iran’s Revolutionary Guards. While relations between Islamabad and Tehran were shaky after cross-border strikes in January 2024, much goodwill was rebuilt last year, after Pakistan’s unequivocal condemnation of Israel, first over its actions in Gaza and then for its bombing of Iran during the 10-day war. Public sentiment in Pakistan remains overwhelmingly pro-Iran, even among Sunni Muslims. As Avinash Paliwal, a reader in international relations at Soas University of London, describes it, Munir had “been dealt a bad hand but played it very well”, particularly in his agile handling of the Trump administration and his understanding of the importance of personality-driven diplomacy. “The personalised, centralised system under the command of Field Marshal Munir allows Pakistan that degree of flexibility to play the role of the mediator here with a degree of credibility,” said Paliwal. Nonetheless, Paliwal is among those who cautions against giving too much credit to one man for Pakistan’s wide-ranging diplomatic campaign, in which key government ministers have flown to China, Saudi and Turkey to push for the deal on all sides. Muhammad Mehdi, a political analyst, said: “Munir has been at the forefront, but this has been a collective effort and many sides, in government and in military, have had a role to play.” As analysts emphasise, much rides on the success of these talks, for Munir personally as well as for Pakistan’s push to be seen internationally as a credible diplomatic interlocutor, with enough clout to push Iran and the US towards a deal that seemed impossible just a few weeks ago. But most pressing of all for the military and the government is the urgent need to end a war that risks further economic and security devastation in Pakistan if it drags on any longer. Even if a deal were struck to end the conflict, Paliwal says it is unlikely that Munir’s role would end there. As a result, Pakistan could emerge as a major operational player in maintaining peace in the Gulf and the Middle East. “This is a man who feels that, moving forward, he will have a much stronger role to play in whatever security architecture develops in the Middle East,” said Paliwal. “Pakistan now is absolutely central to peace-building. For Munir, this is about building a global story.”

Pop star boyfriend posting from Coachella, celebrity statesman, global brand: Justin Trudeau’s offbeat political afterlife

The downfall of Hungary’s Viktor Orbán prompted a flurry of reaction from progressive leaders around the world celebrating the end to an authoritarian regime. One statement stood out – not so much for the sentiment it expressed, but the setting in which it was issued. “Hungarians voted for change and a renewed commitment to democratic institutions after years of erosion under Viktor Orbán,” wrote Justin Trudeau, Canada’s former prime minister – posting from the Coachella music festival, where he and his girlfriend, the American pop star Katy Perry, were watching Justin Bieber. “A powerful and positive signal to democracies around the world that citizens can reclaim institutions and restore respect for rights.” While the message was no different from boilerplate language issued near-daily by former world leaders, the context was less than typical. Earlier that day, Perry had posted a picture of Trudeau eating takeout noodles in a backwards baseball cap and jeans, looking more like a carefree celebrity companion than a recently departed head of government. The tonal contrast hinted at the challenge facing Trudeau, who stood down in March 2025 after nearly a decade in office: how to shape a political legacy and decide the extent to which he wants to remain public spectacle. The responses to his social media post also raised broader questions of what Canadians expect from their former political leaders. “Sending this from coachella is WILD,” one user wrote on X. “The contradiction we’re seeing with Justin Trudeau is one that he dealt with before he came into office: is he a celebrity, or is he a man of depth?” said Susan Delacourt, a longtime political columnist with the Toronto Star who has covered Trudeau since before he became the Liberal party leader in 2013. “For those who have remained Trudeau loyalists, here’s a healthy debate about how much he’s doing to burnish his legacy and reminding people of his record in office – and also enjoying himself.” Trudeau’s first social media post after leaving office was a mobile phone selfie at Canadian Tire, a big-box chain that sells coffee machines, snow shovels, barbecues and motor oil. The image, captioned in French and English, suggested he was settling into the role of the everyman, easing into a quiet life outside the public gaze. Soon, however, he was photographed alongside Perry (on a yacht, in a restaurant, on a ski-slope) and other celebrities, including Prince Harry and the Olympic gold medallist Eileen Gu. Other prime ministers have taken more staid routes after leaving office: jobs at flashy law firms, travelling for business ventures and a retreat to a lifestyle they led before entering the political arena. During King Charles’s throne speech in Ottawa last year, Trudeau was spotted speaking animatedly with former prime minister Stephen Harper. “I asked Trudeau after what they were talking about,” said Delacourt. “He told me they were comparing notes on how to manage post political life. He didn’t tell me anything of what they concluded. But it’s something all prime ministers wrestle with.” Largely, she said, Canadians expect former prime ministers “to go away – and largely, they do”. But Trudeau, 54, is the first prime minister to leave office with an extensive social media following. “He has an active presence because people are interested in him and because he remains interested in the world,” said Delacourt. “Relatively speaking, he’s still a young man. People are saying: ‘Look at him, living his best life.’ And he is happy. He really is.” And Trudeau’s complicated relationship to fame long predates Perry and her 200 million Instagram followers. He has said publicly he is an introvert, and those close to him say he can be a very private person. But he is also the son of Pierre Trudeau, Canada’s first true “rock-star” politician, and he entered public life carrying both the mythology and expectations of that inheritance. His celebrity was reinforced once in office: a splashy Vogue feature and a Rolling Stone cover christening him “The North Star” prompted eye-rolling at home. “I was struck by how much inherited charisma played such an important role in his political career. He presented himself early on as someone that Canadians already knew – and his career can be seen in a way as the kind of restoration of the vision for the country that his father first created,” said Stephen Maher, author of The Prince: The Turbulent Reign of Justin Trudeau. Early in office, Trudeau showed an instinct for viral moments, whether explaining quantum computing or turning up in shirtless photo ops – both of which were carefully staged by the prime minister’s team. Later, the asset became a liability. A poorly planned India trip and his decision to surf on a day set aside to honour Indigenous peoples revived claims that he was more style over substance. Maher argued that Trudeau achieved much office than might be suggested by his deep unpopularity at the end, pointing in particular to the expansion of the welfare state and efforts to widen representation in government. “He focused on child poverty and expended a lot of energy – more than makes sense by a straight political calculation – on improving life for Indigenous peoples in Canada,” he said. “He reflected a growing multicultural society of Toronto, Montreal and Vancouver.” Trudeau’s post-office image is also being shaped in contrast to his successor. As Mark Carney cultivates the aura of a pragmatic technocrat uninterested in politics, Trudeau appears freer, or more vulnerable, to drift into the role he has always half occupied: a celebrity statesman and global brand. Both were in attendance at Davos where Carney gave his famous speech eulogizing the international rules-based order. Trudeau, who still keenly follows Canadian politics, also spoke, discussing the need for soft power in geopolitics. Perry sat in the front row. At the recent Liberal party convention, Trudeau made an appearance by video to welcome attenders, saying they should be proud of the Canada they built together. But for a prime minister who won three consecutive elections, he was notable for his absence. Carney offered remarks that were complimentary of Trudeau, but weren’t yet nostalgic for the former leader. A year into Trudeau’s political afterlife, the shape of his legacy is unsettled and remains a subject of debate within the party he led. But the quality that first propelled him to power – celebrity – seems likely to endure. “Trudeau’s team very astutely built a global brand for him. But part of managing a global brand is having a good sense of how things that you do will land in order not to damage that brand, and they misjudged that at times,” said Maher. “But in the end, it worked. He was – and still is – famous around the world. People around the world know his name, and that’s going to last.”

‘Ticking timebomb’: Tehran residents return to ruined city amid fears truce will not hold

Like many in Tehran, Mehdi, 36, an IT professional, had fled the capital in the early days of the war to stay with relatives in the north. Returning to the city, he was confronted by bombed-out buildings, debris and rubble still scattered across the roads. His home has been damaged by the blasts, the glass shattered and bedroom window frames blown out. In his first days home – just before the ceasefire was agreed – a series of explosions sent him scrambling for shelter. “There’s a whistling sound I hope you never hear … a missile so close that you don’t know if it’s going to hit your house or your neighbour’s,” he says. Three missiles hit the street in a matter of seconds. Now Mehdi, along with thousands of other Iranians who have filtered back to their homes or workplaces during the fragile truce, is navigating a city riddled with ruined buildings, destroyed infrastructure, an economy in turmoil and looming anxiety over the approaching ceasefire deadline. “There’s a lot of talk about precision strikes,” he says. “Let me tell you: my favourite fast food place has been hit by a missile. The clinic we used to visit whenever a new wave of Covid or a cold came around is gone. Even the garden where I spent some of the best moments of my childhood was hit.” Mehdi and his wife now sleep in their living room – the least damaged part of the house. He is trying to piece together paperwork for insurance, as they wait for whatever comes next. “Our home is now barely livable. In some sense, we’ve become war refugees.” An economy in turmoil The toll on civilian infrastructure across Iran has been immense, says Noor*, an activist based in Tehran who stayed through the US-Israeli onslaught. Explosions have destroyed “schools, universities, pharmaceutical production centres, hospitals … civilian homes, private cars and city buses”. Now, although the streets are full again, many people, especially those who rely on the internet, have lost their livelihoods. The internet blackout imposed by the Iranian authorities continues and has crossed a 45-day mark, leaving most of Iran’s population cut off from the world, and a few paying large sums to get online through Starlink and VPNs. “Internet shutdowns have destroyed online jobs,” Noor says, “which were a source of income for many people, especially young people.” According to some estimates, about 10 million Iranians depend on internet access to run small businesses or make an income. Iran had an affordability crisis before the war but now, Noor says, medications for patients with serious or chronic illnesses are difficult to find and, while food remains available in shops, “we can’t afford it”. The economic pressure, dire before the bombing began, has now become unbearable, she says. “Almost all food items have become more expensive. Most people can no longer afford red meat and fish. Dairy products have increased in price by more than 40%.” Other people in Tehran say affording basic grocery items has become very difficult. Adding to the worsening economic crisis, Noor says, factories are struggling to operate owing to a lack of raw materials, some construction workers have lost their jobs and many workplaces are laying off staff or reducing their workforce. Banks, international businesses and government offices are all under strain, as unstable internet disrupts basic operations. Many schools remain shuttered and “mothers working in the private sector are facing difficulties in caring for their children, since kindergarten and schools are closed”. ‘Trapped between two wars’ Arash, 21, a student from Tehran, drove out of the city to stay with relatives after 10 days of war. The lack of information on what was happening around their neighbourhood, because of the internet blackout, had caused them to be worried and fearful. He has since returned to the city. Even with a pause in the bombing, “I am hyper alert all the time,” he says. The atmosphere in the capital feels tense and heavily surveilled with security forces – including police forces, the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) and the Basij [state-backed militia] – running roadblocks and checking vehicles. “They search vehicles and phones. One day, I saw all three [sets of security forces] in a single street and crossed all the three checkpoints. They are all heavily armed with Dushka rifles and AK-47s.” Some checkpoints have recruited children, he says. There have been reports of children used at checkpoints across Iran, a practice that amounts to the use of child soldiers, which is a war crime. In a March campaign to enlist civilians, called “Homeland Defending Combatants for Iran”, an IRGC official in Tehran said the minimum age for recruits had been set at 12. “Some of them are kids [who look as if they are aged about] 10 or 12, and are armed. One of them told me he was 11 and he had a Kalashnikov,” says Arash, who says he feels devastated that children are “trapped between two wars” – the US-Israeli assault and the regime’s abuse of them. Describing the feeling of facing a repressive state and the prospect of a return to war, Arash says: “You know the story of the person cooking the frog in water and slowly increasing the temperature? That’s how we feel right now. Slowly dying, but not realising.” Fears for the future As the two-week deadline marking the end of the ceasefire nears, all of those who spoke to the Guardian were deeply apprehensive. “Even if we think of rebuilding, we can’t: the ceasefire is fragile and the war can start anytime,” Arash says. “Hope is all we have, but that’s fragile too. I think of what [Donald] Trump said – that he would bomb us back to the stone ages. I am laughing now, thinking about it. But I am deeply worried he thinks that of us. Does he really think that of us Iranians?” Despite the economic hardship and a “fragile ceasefire” that feels like a “ticking timebomb”, Noor says the people of Iran are still hopeful. But she worries that there is no clear plan on how to protect civilians during the war and its aftermath. “We just have to be hopeful in ourselves. We believe in the power of our nation,” she says. The controversial comments by the US president, threatening to “unleash hell” and “destroy Iranian civilisation” are also on the mind of Mehdi, who fears a future filled with “one-tonne bombs, nightly bombardments, the destruction of this country’s infrastructure. It feels like nothing awaits us but [Trump’s threat of] ‘a return to the stone age’.” For Arash, this period stuck in a limbo is “the worst outcome … the city is in ruins and we are in a worse economic situation than we were in.” “I don’t know who is winning this war, but we know who’s losing,” he says. “It’s us, ordinary Iranians.”