Coin Press - Israel riled by US-Iran pact

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Israel riled by US-Iran pact




The United States and Israel entered the spring of 2026 locked in an unprecedented conflict with Iran. On 28 February the two allies launched a joint offensive aimed at destroying Iran’s ballistic‑missile programme, curbing its support for militant proxies and forcing an end to its nuclear ambitions. The campaign quickly spread across the region: Iranian forces responded with ballistic‑missile salvos and drone attacks, and the United States imposed a naval blockade on Iranian ports. Iran retaliated by closing the Strait of Hormuz, a narrow waterway through which a fifth of the world’s oil flows. By early April both sides had agreed to a fragile ceasefire, but the war’s economic and human cost, coupled with mounting pressure from Gulf Arab states to restore trade, propelled Washington to seek a negotiated settlement.

President Donald Trump has now circulated a draft agreement that would reopen the Strait of Hormuz to commercial shipping, lift the U.S. blockade and unlock up to $12 billion of Iran’s frozen assets. Under the memorandum of understanding, shipping lanes would return to pre‑war levels within a month, and a 60‑day negotiating period would be devoted to the future of Iran’s nuclear programme. Discussions on highly enriched uranium, centrifuges and International Atomic Energy Agency supervision would begin only after trade resumed. Iran would renounce nuclear weapons, but its stockpiles and missile arsenal would not be dismantled at this stage. The deal also calls for a permanent ceasefire that would extend to Lebanon, where Israeli forces have been engaged in a separate conflict with Hezbollah. As a diplomatic sweetener, Washington has urged Saudi Arabia, Qatar, Pakistan and other regional powers to normalise relations with Israel by joining the Abraham Accords.

In Israel the proposal has provoked a storm of indignation. Senior officials, speaking on condition of anonymity, have branded the emerging accord a “bad deal”. Their chief complaint is that the draft postpones serious constraints on Iran’s nuclear and missile programmes, creating the risk that Tehran will pocket sanctions relief, rebuild its economy and rearm its proxies while negotiations drag on. Israeli strategists note that the memorandum says nothing about Iran’s long‑range missiles or its network of regional militias. They fear that a temporary ceasefire would allow Iran’s allies in Lebanon, Syria and Yemen to regroup and that the release of billions of dollars would enable Tehran to reconstitute military facilities damaged during the war.

Opposition leader Yair Lapid, who is attempting to unseat Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu later this year, has condemned the plan as “bad for Israel, bad for the region [and] bad for the citizens of Iran”. Lapid has criticised Mr Netanyahu for failing to influence Washington’s negotiating position and warns that Israel’s ability to shape American policy is at an all‑time low. Other Israeli commentators describe the draft as a strategic failure: the war began with publicly declared goals of toppling Iran’s theocratic government, ending its ballistic‑missile threat and severing its ties to militant groups, yet the proposed agreement delivers none of those outcomes. Analysts at the Institute for National Security Studies argue that the enormous gap between the war’s ambitions and the terms of the emerging deal shows how little the campaign’s architects understood Iran. Some call it a capitulation that leaves Iran in a stronger position than before the war.

Security officials are particularly alarmed by the prospect of constraints on Israeli military operations in Lebanon and Gaza. The draft calls for a permanent ceasefire not just in the Persian Gulf but across the region, including southern Lebanon where Israeli troops have seized strategic positions and where daily exchanges of fire with Hezbollah have continued despite the pause in the broader war. Israeli commanders insist on “freedom of action” to strike Iranian targets and proxies; they fear that a formal ceasefire would tie their hands and allow Hezbollah to entrench itself further along the northern border. The idea of including Hezbollah in the ceasefire, reportedly floated by Tehran, is anathema to the Israel Defense Forces.

The financial dimension of the proposed deal is another source of anger. Iran’s government is demanding access to billions of dollars held abroad to stabilise its economy after months of conflict. For Israel, the thought of unlocking those funds conjures memories of the 2015 nuclear agreement, which lifted sanctions and allowed Iran to re‑enter oil markets. Hawks in both Israel and the United States warn that injecting cash into Iran’s coffers will embolden the Revolutionary Guard Corps and enable renewed investment in missile development and proxy warfare. These critics argue that pressure—not relief—is the only way to force Tehran to dismantle its nuclear infrastructure and curb its regional ambitions. Some even say they would prefer a return to open conflict to the signing of a weak agreement that leaves Iran intact.

Israelis are also wary of the diplomatic gambit tied to the deal. President Trump has declared that it should be “mandatory” for countries such as Saudi Arabia, Qatar and Pakistan to recognise Israel as part of the agreement. Pro‑Israel voices in the United States have welcomed the idea, but regional experts point out that Gulf states are not prepared to normalise relations at a time when Israel is still waging wars in Lebanon and Gaza and when Palestinian casualties have fuelled widespread anger. Saudi Arabia has repeatedly said it will not normalise relations without a Palestinian state based on the 1967 borders. For Israel, therefore, the promise of new diplomatic ties offers little comfort; what matters is security, and the current draft does not guarantee it.

Beyond Israel, the emerging agreement has drawn criticism from Republican hawks in Washington. Senators Lindsey Graham, Ted Cruz and Roger Wicker have all warned that a 60‑day ceasefire that reopens the Strait of Hormuz while leaving Iran’s nuclear and missile capabilities untouched would be a “disaster”, a “nightmare” and a “disastrous mistake”. Former secretary of state Mike Pompeo has derided the proposal as a retreat from the “America First” stance, arguing that Tehran should not receive a penny until its capability to threaten U.S. allies is eliminated. These voices echo the concerns of Israeli officials who fear that the balance of power in the region will shift in Iran’s favour if the United States compromises.

The uproar in Jerusalem is compounded by a feeling of marginalisation. Reports in the Israeli press suggest that Mr Netanyahu has been largely sidelined in negotiations, with Washington seeking input from Gulf allies and Pakistan instead. A senior Israeli security official recently lamented that “Israeli interests were not taken into account throughout the negotiations”, noting that Israel might now face restrictions on its ability to act in Lebanon and Gaza despite fighting alongside the United States in Iran. Such perceived neglect has fuelled domestic criticism of Mr Netanyahu and heightened the sense of betrayal that underpins Israel’s fury at the emerging deal.

As negotiations continue, the gap between Israeli expectations and the draft agreement’s provisions remains wide. Israel entered the conflict hoping to eliminate a strategic rival and reshape the Middle East. It now confronts the prospect of a ceasefire that freezes the status quo, leaves Iran’s regime intact, and imposes constraints on Israel’s military freedom. Unless Washington and Tehran can produce a final agreement that addresses Israel’s security concerns—particularly the dismantling of Iran’s missile and nuclear capabilities and the curtailment of its proxies—the anger emanating from Jerusalem is unlikely to subside. The fate of the war, the security of the Gulf and the future of regional diplomacy all hinge on whether these divergent interests can be reconciled in the weeks ahead.



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Long live Ukraine - Хай живе Україна - Да здравствует Украина

Es lebe die Ukraine - Да здравствует Украина - Long live Ukraine - Хай живе Україна - Nech žije Ukrajina - Länge leve Ukraina - תחי אוקראינה - Lang leve Oekraïne - Да живее Украйна - Elagu Ukraina - Kauan eläköön Ukraina - Vive l'Ukraine - Ζήτω η Ουκρανία - 乌克兰万岁 - Viva Ucrania - Ať žije Ukrajina - Çok yaşa Ukrayna - Viva a Ucrânia - Trăiască Ucraina - ウクライナ万歳 - Tegyvuoja Ukraina - Lai dzīvo Ukraina - Viva l'Ucraina - Hidup Ukraina - تحيا أوكرانيا - Vivat Ucraina - ขอให้ยูเครนจงเจริญ - Ucraina muôn năm - ژوندی دی وی اوکراین - Yashasin Ukraina - Озак яшә Украина - Živjela Ukrajina - 우크라이나 만세 - Mabuhay ang Ukraine - Lenge leve Ukraina - Nyob ntev Ukraine - Да живее Украина - გაუმარჯოს უკრაინას - Hidup Ukraine - Vivu Ukrainio - Længe leve Ukraine - Živjela Ukrajina - Жыве Украіна - Yaşasın Ukrayna - Lengi lifi Úkraína - Lank lewe die Oekraïne

Stargate project, Trump and the AI war...

In a dramatic return to the global political stage, former President Donald J. Trump, as the current 47th President of the United States of America, has unveiled his latest initiative, the so-called ‘Stargate Project,’ in a bid to cement the United States’ dominance in artificial intelligence and outpace China’s meteoric rise in the field. The newly announced programme, cloaked in patriotic rhetoric and ambitious targets, is already stirring intense debate over the future of technological competition between the world’s two largest economies.According to preliminary statements from Trump’s team, the Stargate Project will consolidate the efforts of leading American tech conglomerates, defence contractors, and research universities under a centralised framework. The former president, who has long championed American exceptionalism, claims this approach will provide the United States with a decisive advantage, enabling rapid breakthroughs in cutting-edge AI applications ranging from military strategy to commercial innovation.“America must remain the global leader in technology—no ifs, no buts,” Trump declared at a recent press conference. “China has been trying to surpass us in AI, but with this new project, we will make sure the future remains ours.”Details regarding funding and governance remain scarce, but early indications suggest the initiative will rely heavily on public-private partnerships, tax incentives for research and development, and collaboration with high-profile venture capital firms. Skeptics, however, warn that the endeavour could fan the flames of an increasingly militarised AI race, raising ethical concerns about surveillance, automation of warfare, and data privacy. Critics also question whether the initiative can deliver on its lofty promises, especially in the face of existing economic and geopolitical pressures.Yet for its supporters, the Stargate Project serves as a rallying cry for renewed American leadership and an antidote to worries over China’s technological ascendancy. Proponents argue that accelerating AI research is paramount if the United States wishes to preserve not just military supremacy, but also the economic and cultural influence that has typified its global role for decades.Whether this bold project will succeed—or if it will devolve into a symbolic gesture—remains to be seen. What is certain, however, is that the Stargate Project has already reignited debate about how best to safeguard America’s strategic future and maintain the balance of power in the fast-evolving arena of artificial intelligence.

Europe’s arms money maze

Europe’s rearmament has acquired an uncomfortable companion: uncertainty about what the money actually buys. In Germany, an argument over defence-related borrowing has raised questions about whether exceptional debt is producing genuinely additional expenditure. In Estonia, unreliable inventory records and disputed ammunition contracts have brought ministerial accountability into the foreground. These are different problems, but they meet at the same point: a larger budget is not a reliable measure of a stronger defence.The contention that nobody knows what is happening to Europe’s weapons money goes too far. Budgets are published, procurement bodies operate and auditors are identifying failures. Nor do these cases establish that funds have disappeared into Russian hands or that the Kremlin engineered the difficulties. The more defensible conclusion is also more useful: Europe cannot judge rearmament by the volume of money announced. It must establish what has been purchased, accepted and made ready for use.That distinction matters strategically. An adversary need not steal the money to benefit from delays, unusable equipment or a loss of confidence in the governments spending it.What the €800 billion actually meansThe scale of the spending is substantial. Combined defence expenditure across the European Union reached €418 billion in 2025, with €454 billion estimated for 2026. Those annual totals should not be confused with the much larger, multi-year headline attached to the EU’s rearmament financing plan. The widely cited €800 billion is potential financing capacity, not a single fund already transferred to arms manufacturers. Its main components are approximately €650 billion in possible additional national expenditure enabled by fiscal flexibility over four years, and €150 billion in loans through the Security Action for Europe instrument, known as SAFE. The loans must be repaid; the additional national spending depends on governments choosing to use the available room.These distinctions are indispensable to any honest assessment. Permission to borrow is not an order placed with a factory. An order is not a completed delivery. Equipment delivered to a warehouse is not necessarily equipment that troops can operate, maintain and replenish. Treating all these stages as interchangeable allows governments to claim progress before the military benefit exists.It also creates a temptation to add together figures that describe different periods or overlapping flows of money. A credible account of rearmament should distinguish financing arrangements from annual expenditure, and both from verified outputs. Otherwise, the public is left comparing impressive totals whose practical meaning is unclear.Germany’s argument over additional spendingOn 10 September, the Ifo Institute challenged the use of Germany’s defence-related borrowing exemption. It calculated an €11 billion gap between additional borrowing and the year-on-year increase in the relevant expenditure. Ifo’s argument was that 38.5 per cent of the additional debt had not produced additional defence and security spending, instead freeing room for other purposes in the ordinary budget. The Finance Ministry rejected the comparison as legally and methodologically flawed. The exemption concerns qualifying expenditure above one per cent of gross domestic product, rather than an increase over the previous year. Ifo, for its part, said its analysis concerned additional spending, not constitutionality.This is not evidence that €11 billion was stolen. It is a dispute over the relationship between an exceptional borrowing mechanism and the political expectation attached to it. The difference is important: an arrangement can comply with its legal design while delivering less additional expenditure than citizens understand the announcement to promise.The practical question is whether new borrowing expands defence capacity or changes the way existing commitments are financed. Those outcomes can coexist within the same budget. Refinancing an established obligation may be lawful and fiscally useful, but it should not be presented as though an equivalent amount of new military capability has been purchased. Germany’s dispute therefore points to a straightforward transparency test. Governments should identify the expenditure that would have occurred anyway, the genuinely additional commitments and the delivery milestones attached to them. Without that comparison, the argument risks becoming a contest between accounting definitions while the central question—what the armed forces actually gain—remains unanswered.Estonia’s warning from the accountsIn Estonia, the problems are more immediate. Defence Minister Hanno Pevkur announced on 2 September that he would step down, accepting political responsibility for failures exposed in defence administration and procurement. His announcement did not amount to an admission of personal corruption.The National Audit Office issued a qualified opinion concerning defence inventories valued at approximately €1.2 billion because their quantities, composition and valuation could not be established reliably. It also questioned an unexplained retrospective adjustment of €99.7 million to the previous year’s inventory figures. That does not mean €1.2 billion of weapons has vanished. An unreliable balance is not the same thing as a proven loss. It means the records are insufficiently dependable to establish what the balance represents—a serious weakness in any organisation, and particularly consequential in one responsible for military readiness.Inadequate records can obstruct decisions long before a final financial loss is demonstrated. Commanders and purchasing authorities need to distinguish usable stock from equipment awaiting inspection, repair or replacement. If those categories are unclear, another procurement decision may rest on a mistaken understanding of what is already available.Auditing is therefore more than an exercise in retrospective blame. A trustworthy inventory helps determine what must be bought next, how urgently it is needed and whether previous purchases fulfilled their purpose. Poor accounting can undermine operational planning even where no theft is established.Paid for is not the same as usableEstonia’s ammunition procurement for Ukraine illustrates a second difficulty. The audit identified disputed advance payments and warned of a potential exposure to the state budget of around €70 million. That figure describes a risk, not a final, adjudicated loss.The controversy includes contracts involving the Italian company Datasel. Pevkur described ammunition delivered under the disputed arrangements as incomplete and of insufficient quality, rather than simply non-existent. Datasel disputes the criticism and has said that goods delivered and invoiced were worth approximately €58 million against about €59 million in advances. The company’s account is a contested position, not a judicial finding.The disagreement exposes a distinction that matters beyond this particular supplier. A payment record, an invoice, the physical presence of goods and acceptance of those goods for their intended use answer different questions. A supplier may point to shipments while a purchasing authority disputes whether the contractual requirement has been met. The existence of equipment does not, by itself, resolve an argument over quality or completeness.For Ukraine, the decisive consideration is usable military support. For the public authorities financing it, the additional questions are whether payment conditions were appropriate, inspections were timely and contractual protections can recover money when performance is disputed. Those questions should be settled through evidence and the relevant proceedings, not through premature declarations of guilt.The procurement lesson is nonetheless clear. Emergency purchasing needs traceable contracts, independently verified acceptance and a dependable record linking each payment to performance. Urgency may justify faster decisions. It cannot make the distinction between an invoice and a functioning delivery disappear.An oversight system split across institutionsEurope’s defence financing does not sit within a single system of scrutiny. National budgets, EU programmes, loans and off-budget arrangements have different institutional responsibilities. The European Court of Auditors’ September review described complex governance and uneven oversight arrangements, rather than a continent-wide absence of auditing.SAFE falls within the European Court of Auditors’ remit. The European Peace Facility, outside the ordinary EU budget, has its own College of Auditors. National defence expenditure is scrutinised through national institutions. The distinction is between different mandates, not between money that is automatically checked and money that is automatically unaccountable. The difficulty arises at the joins. A public explanation may follow the announcement of a financing package, while a procurement body follows the contract and an operational authority follows the equipment. Unless those accounts can be reconciled, citizens and legislators may struggle to establish the complete journey from political promise to accepted delivery.Secrecy complicates that task, but it need not prevent it. Publishing ammunition locations or technical vulnerabilities would be irresponsible. Giving properly authorised auditors access to contracts, inspections and payment records is a different matter. The need to protect operational information should not become a general excuse for withholding financial evidence.Nor should procurement integrity be treated as a rival to speed. Clearly assigned responsibility, verifiable milestones and early checks can prevent disputes from developing into expensive attempts to recover money after the event. The relevant choice is between controls that work during procurement and explanations demanded after something has gone wrong.Where Putin could benefitThese failures do not establish that Vladimir Putin has obtained everything he wanted. A Europe that turns rising expenditure into effective forces would represent a very different outcome. There is also no demonstrated Russian role in the particular German budget dispute or the Estonian accounting and contractual problems described here.The potential advantage for Moscow is indirect. Delayed or disputed deliveries can leave the intended recipient weaker than the expenditure suggests. Confusing financial claims can make it harder to defend further commitments. A succession of procurement controversies could erode confidence not only in individual contracts, but in the wider case for supporting Ukraine and strengthening European defence.That is a strategic risk, not proof of an accomplished Russian victory. The public identification of problems is itself evidence that scrutiny exists. A minister accepting political responsibility, auditors challenging unreliable balances and a government being pressed to explain its borrowing are mechanisms through which democratic systems can correct failure. Their value depends on what happens afterwards.The answer is neither to abandon rearmament nor to shield it from criticism. Governments should report progress in terms that connect money to results: contracts awarded, payments made, equipment accepted and capabilities available, with sensitive details reserved for secure oversight. Disputed transactions should remain visible until resolved rather than disappearing beneath the next spending announcement.Europe does not need to prove its determination by producing another larger number. It needs to demonstrate that the money already committed is becoming usable strength. Until it does, the distance between those two things remains an opportunity for the adversary it is trying to deter.