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Confusion over Israel-Iran ceasefire

Confusion over Israel-Iran ceasefire

Claims by the US President Donald Trump of a ceasefire deal between Israel and Iran have been rejected by Iran.The Iranian foreign minister says there will not be an agreement until Israel stops its attacks.
It comes just hours after Iran launched a series of missile strikes at US bases in Qatar, causing flights to be turned back, diverted and delayed across the Middle East and around the world.

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ASX200: Oil prices nosedive on Israel-Iran ceasefire promise
ASX200: Oil prices nosedive on Israel-Iran ceasefire promise

News.com.au

time14 minutes ago

  • News.com.au

ASX200: Oil prices nosedive on Israel-Iran ceasefire promise

Apparent calm in the Middle East has subdued oil prices as Australian energy stocks took a hit on Tuesday. The benchmark ASX200 finished up 80 points to 8555.5, a 0.95 per cent gain on the day. Eight of eleven sectors were in the green. There were successful debuts for Virgin Australia and Greatland Resources, sparking hopes for a resurgence of initial public offerings on the ASX. But broader Middle East events hit Australia's big energy players hard. The sector was down 3.9 per cent on Tuesday, led by biggest player Woodside which lost 6.5 per cent to $24.16. 'The oil market just staged a masterclass in financial theatre – loud opening act, whispered finale,' independent analyst Stephen Innes said of fluctuations since the US bombing of Iran. 'After roaring to (US)$78.50 a barrel on weekend war headlines, crude did a hard about-face, nosediving over 7 per cent to close near $68.50, dragging the entire energy complex with it. It's not just a round trip. It's a mood swing with a ticker. 'Oil, once again, played both the arsonist and the fireman – igniting fears with every missile and then soothing them just as fast when Tehran's 'retaliation' turned out to be more of a press release than a war cry.' The latest fluctuation in oil prices came off the back of Donald Trump announcing a ceasefire between Israel and Iran. The global Brent crude benchmark fell almost 4 per cent on Tuesday to $US66 per barrel and US WTI lost 5 per cent to $US65. Oil and gas explorer Karoon Energy shed 6.5 per cent to finish at $1.95, while Santos slipped 1.5 per cent to $7.66. Domestically, the City of Sydney has announced a ban on new homes having gas appliances, while the Victorian government will phase out gas hot water systems from 2027. Following energy stocks, the ASX utilities sector also fell into the red Tuesday, as Origin Energy fell 2.5 per cent and APA Group lost 1.7 per cent. AGL slipped 1 per cent and Genesis Energy shed 0.95 per cent. Looking to the top of the tables, materials led the bourse's Tuesday charge into positive territory. Rio Tinto and Hancock Prospecting announced a $2.5bn, 50-50 split investment to extend the Hope Downs iron ore project. Rio also flagged $20bn of new mine, equipment and plant investment in the coming three years. In turn, Rio's share price gained a tick over 3 per cent to $104.94. At the checkout, investors flocked to KFC operator Collins Foods. The small-cap had a finger-lickin' day, spiking 17.4 per cent. The intraday high peaked at 26 per cent, as a full year profit fall of 89 per cent was announced. Investors are hoping the price has bottomed out. There were also two highly promising IPOs. London-listed gold and copper miner Greatland Resources rocketed to $7.30, gaining 43.7 per cent on debut. Virgin Australia successfully relaunched as well, closing with an 11.4 per cent gain, to $3.23. The two floats were worth a combined $1bn.

Yesterday, bombs fell on the prison where I was jailed. It may be a metaphor for the Iranian people's fate
Yesterday, bombs fell on the prison where I was jailed. It may be a metaphor for the Iranian people's fate

The Age

time42 minutes ago

  • The Age

Yesterday, bombs fell on the prison where I was jailed. It may be a metaphor for the Iranian people's fate

The last time I saw the gates of Iran's Evin Prison was November, 25, 2020. Handcuffed, blindfolded yet finally out of my cell, I was driven to a point just outside the prison walls. Behind me was a nondescript blue and white sign proclaiming the name of the prison, and a single-lane entrance point with guard posts on either side of three-story stone walls. It was a relatively unimposing thoroughfare for such a consequential symbol of power and brutality. I was told to stand in front of the gates, now closed to traffic. A man with a television camera mounted on a tripod appeared, and a Revolutionary Guard member started firing questions at me in Farsi. It was clear that I was expected to participate in one final humiliation: a propaganda clip for the evening news broadcast. Knowing that nothing I said now could possibly derail the deal which had been made to secure my freedom, I stood outside those gates and did my best to render the footage unusable. No, I was not a spy and I do not confess. No, I wasn't treated well in prison. No, I am not thankful to my captors for releasing me, having lost two years and three months of my life to this cruel and barbaric place. Those gates are instantly recognisable to every Iranian, whether or not they watch the propaganda clips routinely aired on state TV targeting people, like me, who had been held inside. They stand for the immense coercive power of the Islamic Republic and the supremacy of its behemoth security apparatus. They stand for the ability of a totalitarian state to reach deep into the lives of ordinary people, threatening to take from them everything and everyone they hold dear should they, for whatever reason, be unlucky enough to cross its threshold. Israel's strike on Evin Prison in Tehran in the hours before US President Donald Trump's ceasefire agreement came into effect had no plausible military purpose. Along with other targets, such as the headquarters of the Basij militia and Revolutionary Guard Corps, this was a highly symbolic attack designed to send a message about Israel's longer-term goals for Iran. To the regime, the destruction of the gates of Evin, filmed by the Israeli Defence Force and circulated online shortly after, represented not only the ruination of Iran's feared internal security apparatus, but that of its ideology too. To the political dissidents housed within Evin, and the Iranian people more broadly, the message was similarly clear: The clerical kleptocracy which has oppressed you for four decades is a paper tiger. Rise up, walk out those gates, and free yourselves. Of course amid all this potent symbolism, Israel has its own narrow interests at play, and these do not necessarily align with those of the Iranian people. Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and his ministers have made numerous statements about regime change in Iran, as has Trump, but it remains to be seen whether Tel Aviv, Washington or other Western powers will actually do anything to advance the Iranian people's well-documented desire to be rid of the Islamic Republic, beyond talking a big game on social media. Reports emerging from inside Evin Prison after the strikes paint a concerning picture of fear, chaos and, even while under fire, repression and crackdown. The account of Reza Khandan, the husband of prominent human rights lawyer Nasrin Sotoudeh and an activist himself who is currently imprisoned in Evin, posted a statement online on behalf of a group of prisoners trapped inside. In it, he described inmates injured from broken glass, and a stampede triggered by the panic of those who had 'nowhere to run'. According to Khandan, prison authorities responded with 'threats, intimidation and pressure on prisoners', and have refused to treat the injured.

Yesterday, bombs fell on the prison where I was jailed. It may be a metaphor for the Iranian people's fate
Yesterday, bombs fell on the prison where I was jailed. It may be a metaphor for the Iranian people's fate

Sydney Morning Herald

time42 minutes ago

  • Sydney Morning Herald

Yesterday, bombs fell on the prison where I was jailed. It may be a metaphor for the Iranian people's fate

The last time I saw the gates of Iran's Evin Prison was November, 25, 2020. Handcuffed, blindfolded yet finally out of my cell, I was driven to a point just outside the prison walls. Behind me was a nondescript blue and white sign proclaiming the name of the prison, and a single-lane entrance point with guard posts on either side of three-story stone walls. It was a relatively unimposing thoroughfare for such a consequential symbol of power and brutality. I was told to stand in front of the gates, now closed to traffic. A man with a television camera mounted on a tripod appeared, and a Revolutionary Guard member started firing questions at me in Farsi. It was clear that I was expected to participate in one final humiliation: a propaganda clip for the evening news broadcast. Knowing that nothing I said now could possibly derail the deal which had been made to secure my freedom, I stood outside those gates and did my best to render the footage unusable. No, I was not a spy and I do not confess. No, I wasn't treated well in prison. No, I am not thankful to my captors for releasing me, having lost two years and three months of my life to this cruel and barbaric place. Those gates are instantly recognisable to every Iranian, whether or not they watch the propaganda clips routinely aired on state TV targeting people, like me, who had been held inside. They stand for the immense coercive power of the Islamic Republic and the supremacy of its behemoth security apparatus. They stand for the ability of a totalitarian state to reach deep into the lives of ordinary people, threatening to take from them everything and everyone they hold dear should they, for whatever reason, be unlucky enough to cross its threshold. Israel's strike on Evin Prison in Tehran in the hours before US President Donald Trump's ceasefire agreement came into effect had no plausible military purpose. Along with other targets, such as the headquarters of the Basij militia and Revolutionary Guard Corps, this was a highly symbolic attack designed to send a message about Israel's longer-term goals for Iran. To the regime, the destruction of the gates of Evin, filmed by the Israeli Defence Force and circulated online shortly after, represented not only the ruination of Iran's feared internal security apparatus, but that of its ideology too. To the political dissidents housed within Evin, and the Iranian people more broadly, the message was similarly clear: The clerical kleptocracy which has oppressed you for four decades is a paper tiger. Rise up, walk out those gates, and free yourselves. Of course amid all this potent symbolism, Israel has its own narrow interests at play, and these do not necessarily align with those of the Iranian people. Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and his ministers have made numerous statements about regime change in Iran, as has Trump, but it remains to be seen whether Tel Aviv, Washington or other Western powers will actually do anything to advance the Iranian people's well-documented desire to be rid of the Islamic Republic, beyond talking a big game on social media. Reports emerging from inside Evin Prison after the strikes paint a concerning picture of fear, chaos and, even while under fire, repression and crackdown. The account of Reza Khandan, the husband of prominent human rights lawyer Nasrin Sotoudeh and an activist himself who is currently imprisoned in Evin, posted a statement online on behalf of a group of prisoners trapped inside. In it, he described inmates injured from broken glass, and a stampede triggered by the panic of those who had 'nowhere to run'. According to Khandan, prison authorities responded with 'threats, intimidation and pressure on prisoners', and have refused to treat the injured.

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