Russian Jets Spook Finland As They Enter NATO Territory Amid Revenge Strikes On Ukraine
Finland has accused Russian military aircraft of violating its airspace near Porvoo, east of Helsinki, prompting an investigation led by the Finnish Coast Guard. The suspected breach comes amid growing tensions between the two countries since Finland joined NATO in 2023. This isn't the first incident — a similar airspace violation occurred weeks earlier, also sparking diplomatic backlash.
Read More
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Hindustan Times
24 minutes ago
- Hindustan Times
China and the US at the upcoming G7 summit
If the G7 once stood as the West's economic command centre, today it is a stage for the world's most consequential rivalry: The US and China. The 2025 Kananaskis summit arrives not as a celebration of unity, but as a crucible, testing both the G7's cohesion and its capacity to respond to a world reordered by Beijing's rise and Washington's anxieties. In this context, the G7 is forced to grapple with the reality that its own cohesion is increasingly defined by how it manages the China question. The summit's agenda, though broad, is inevitably shaped by the undercurrents of this strategic contest. Every policy proposal, from digital standards to global health, is now filtered through the lens of US-China competition. The G7's ability to adapt, innovate, and present a credible alternative to China's growing influence will be scrutinised more closely than ever before. Let's acknowledge the elephant in the room: The G7 was created in the 1970s to manage western economic crises, with the US as its undisputed conductor. Fast-forward to 2025, and the G7's very relevance is under scrutiny not least because of the US's own internal divisions and the relentless ascent of China. The G20 was once hailed as the premier forum for global economic coordination, precisely because the G7's old formula could no longer contain the ambitions of China, India, and the wider Global South. Yet, as the G20 has stumbled, mired in geopolitical paralysis, Russian aggression, and China's assertiveness, the G7 has tried to reassert itself as the last redoubt of liberal democracy and economic order. But with the US now led by a president openly sceptical of alliances, tariffs weaponized as policy, and unity fraying, the G7 faces an existential crisis at its own doorstep. The irony is thick: the very institutions designed to manage western dominance now find themselves wrestling with the limits of that dominance. The G7's attempts to reassert itself are both a response to and a symptom of a shifting global order, where old alliances are tested and new alignments are uncertain. The summit thus becomes not just a meeting of leaders, but a barometer of the West's willingness to reinvent itself in the face of profound change. The US enters Kananaskis less as the first among equals and more as the unpredictable uncle at the family reunion. President Trump's return to the summit table brings a familiar playbook: Scepticism of multilateralism, open disdain for the EU, and a willingness to use tariffs as both carrot and cudgel. The US's stance on the climate crisis has reversed course yet again, leaving Europe and Japan to pick up the slack. Intelligence-sharing, once a pillar of trust, is now a source of European anxiety. Trade, too, is a battlefield. Trump's on-again, off-again tariffs have injected uncertainty into global markets, and while G7 finance ministers might dance around the issue in public, the reality is that America's economic statecraft is now as much about managing allies as it is about confronting adversaries. The question for Kananaskis: Can the US still lead a coalition it seems intent on destabilising? The American approach to the summit is further complicated by domestic political pressures. With an eye on the upcoming election cycle, the administration is keenly aware that foreign policy gestures must resonate with domestic audiences. This dynamic risks turning the G7 into a stage for political signalling rather than substantive cooperation, with allies left to interpret shifting signals from Washington. The US's ability to balance domestic imperatives with global leadership will be a key subplot at Kananaskis. China, of course, is not at the table but it is everywhere in the conversation. The G7's agenda is saturated with China's presence: From concerns over the East and South China Seas, to the militarisation of the Taiwan Strait, to the ever-present anxiety over supply chains and critical technologies. The phrase 'free, open, prosperous, and secure Indo-Pacific' is now G7 code for containing China's influence. Yet, the G7's China policy is riven by contradictions. Europe's economic entanglement with Beijing tempers its hawkishness, while Japan and the US push for a harder line. The group will likely issue hortatory statements on peace, stability, and the rules-based order, but the real contest is about who sets the standards for Artificial Intelligence (AI), digital trade, and green technology. China's growing economic footprint in Africa, Latin America, and Southeast Asia also complicates the G7's calculus. As Beijing deepens its Belt and Road investments and forges new trade alliances, the G7 faces the challenge of offering compelling alternatives. The summit's deliberations on infrastructure, debt relief, and technology standards will be shaped by the need to counter China's expanding influence, even as member States weigh the risks of economic decoupling. Here lies the G7's central paradox: It is united in its concern over China's rise but divided on the means and ends of responses. The US wants to de-risk supply chains and decouple where possible; Europe wants to hedge; Japan wants security guarantees without sacrificing economic ties. Meanwhile, China's absence from the summit is itself a statement: The world's second-largest economy is both the target and the test of the G7's continued relevance. This dilemma is compounded by the reality that no member can afford a full rupture with China. The interdependence of global supply chains, the need for cooperation on climate and health, and the risks of escalation in the Indo-Pacific all constrain the G7's options. The summit will thus be a study in ambiguity, with leaders seeking to project resolve while quietly managing risk. The outcome may be less about grand strategy and more about the art of muddling through. If the G7 is to avoid becoming a relic, it must do more than issue communiqués about shared values. It must reconcile its internal divisions, offer credible alternatives to China's Belt and Road, and set enforceable standards for technology, trade, and climate. The US, for its part, must decide whether it wants to lead a coalition or simply bully a bloc. The G7's future indeed, the future of western leadership may hinge on whether this summit is remembered as a turning point or a missed opportunity. The stakes could not be higher. The choices made at Kananaskis will reverberate far beyond the summit, shaping not only the trajectory of US-China relations but the architecture of global governance itself. If the G7 can rise above its divisions and articulate a compelling vision for the future, it may yet reclaim its role as a steward of stability and progress. If not, the world may look elsewhere for leadership perhaps to new coalitions, or to the very rivals it once sought to contain. Finally, the 2025 G7 summit is not just another diplomatic gathering; it is a stress test for the post-war order. The US and China may not sit at the same table, but their rivalry shapes every conversation, every alliance, every policy. The question for Kananaskis is not whether the G7 can contain China, but whether it can contain its own centrifugal forces long enough to matter. In the end, the G7's fate may rest less on who is in the room, and more on whether those present can agree on what kind of world they want to defend. In this pivotal moment, the G7's ability to adapt, innovate, and demonstrate unity will be watched not only by its adversaries but by a world searching for credible leadership. The summit's legacy will be determined by its willingness to face uncomfortable truths and make hard choices that will define the contours of global power for years to come. This article is authored by Maj Gen Dilawar Singh, senior vice president, Global Economist Forum, AO, ECOSOC, United Nations.
Mint
29 minutes ago
- Mint
‘Devastating and heartbreaking' – world leaders express shock over tragic Air India plane crash in Ahmedabad
World leaders reacted to the tragic Air India flight crash in Gujarat's Ahmedabad on 12 June, calling the accident 'heartbreaking' and 'devastating.' Keir Starmer, Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, was among the first leaders to react. Starmer said that the scenes emerging of a London-bound plane carrying many British nationals crashing in the Indian city of Ahmedabad were devastating. 'I am being kept updated as the situation develops, and my thoughts are with the passengers and their families at this deeply distressing time,' Starmer said. An Air India Boeing 787 aircraft carrying 242 passengers crashed near Meghani Nagar, close to Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel International Airport in Ahmedabad, Gujarat on 12 June. The flight was scheduled from Ahmedabad to Gatwick. Russian Ambassador to India Denis Alipov also reacted to the tragic crash. Heartbreaking news is coming from Ahmedabad. 'My heartfelt sympathy to the families and near ones of the victims and to all Indian people and the Government of India over this tragic major catastrophe,' Alipov said in a post on X. Air India confirmed the nationalities of those on board the crashed flight, including 169 Indians, 53 British, 7 Portuguese and one Canadian. Among those on board was former Gujarat Chief Minister Vijay Rupani. An official confirmation about the passengers is, however, awaited. Prime Minister Narendra Modi spoke to the Union Minister of Civil Aviation, Rammohan Naidu, and took stock of the Air India flight crash incident in Ahmedabad, the Ministry of Civil Aviation said on 12 June. The Minister informed the Prime Minister that he is rushing to Ahmedabad to oversee rescue and relief operations on the ground, the statement from the ministry said. My heartfelt sympathy to the families and near ones of the victims and to all Indian people and the Government of India over this tragic major catastrophe. Modi also shared his thoughts on the accident in a post on X. 'The tragedy in Ahmedabad has stunned and saddened us. It is heartbreaking beyond words. In this sad hour, my thoughts are with everyone affected by it. Have been in touch with Ministers and authorities who are working to assist those affected,' he said.
Indian Express
an hour ago
- Indian Express
Germany's defence awakening is rooted in geopolitical realities
Germany's post-World War II identity has long rested on pacifism, diplomacy, and a deep aversion to military assertiveness. It changed dramatically in 2022 when Russia's invasion of Ukraine jolted Berlin into a strategic reset. Chancellor Olaf Scholz called it a Zeitenwende — a turning point — announcing Germany would commit 2 per cent of its GDP to defence spending and create a €100 billion special fund to modernise the Bundeswehr. It marked a historic departure from decades of military restraint. In 2025, the new Chancellor Friedrich Merz doubled down on this trajectory. In his first address to the Bundestag, Merz vowed to transform the Bundeswehr into 'the strongest conventional army in Europe.' He coupled this with a sweeping economic recovery package and a tough new migration policy. 'Germany and Europe must become so strong together that we never have to use our weapons,' he said. To realise this vision, Merz pledged unlimited financial backing for the military, and suggested that Germany would shoulder greater responsibility within NATO and the European Union. Defence Minister Boris Pistorius echoed this ambition, suggesting a long-term goal of raising defence spending to as much as 5 per cent of GDP — a dramatic leap from the current ~2 per cent. The Merz-led coalition secured a key parliamentary provision: Defence spending beyond 1 per cent of GDP would be exempt from the constitutionally enshrined 'debt brake'. The legal framework is in place. The ambition is clear. But will the German public support hold? Initially, it seemed so. In 2022, the emotional shock of war in Europe led to broad support for increased military expenditure. Nearly 70 per cent of Germans backed the move — remarkable in a country so wary of militarism. The special fund enabled Germany to order F-35 fighter jets, procure Israel's Arrow 3 missile defence system, invest in cyber capabilities, and digitise command operations. For many, this was not militarism, but a belated correction of decades of underinvestment. But by 2025, that enthusiasm has tapered. A Koerber Stiftung poll from November 2024 found that while 73 per cent of Germans favoured greater investment in European security, 58 per cent opposed Germany playing a leading role if the US retreated from global affairs. Currently, around 55 per cent support strengthening national defence. Support for the far-right AfD, which advocates a more restrained defence posture, has grown. Cracks are appearing in the national consensus. Several fault lines now threaten the sustainability of Germany's defence transformation. First, economic concerns are mounting. Inflation, stagnation, and budget constraints have sharpened debates over fiscal priorities. Critics ask whether Germany can afford to spend billions on tanks and jets while underfunding schools, housing, and its energy transition. With austerity on the horizon, Germans are being forced to choose between security and social services. Many want both — but doubt whether both are affordable. Second, implementation has been slower than expected. Bureaucratic inertia, procurement delays, and supply chain disruptions have hampered progress. The Bundeswehr remains under-equipped in key areas. Reports of soldiers lacking basic gear persist, and many major systems are still years from deployment. If voters perceive the Zeitenwende as mostly talk with little delivery, support will wane further. Third, Germany's pacifist tradition remains strong. On the political left and among younger voters, scepticism toward militarisation is pronounced. Some fear entanglement in foreign wars; others are uneasy with NATO's expanding mission. In eastern Germany, with its historic links to Russia and persistent economic grievances, alignment with the West is more contested. The political implications are complicated. Defence expansion finds strongest support among Merz's CDU/CSU and the SPD. The Greens, though supportive of Ukraine, are divided between their anti-war roots and current geopolitical realities. The Free Democrats (FDP) support spending but worry about fiscal discipline. Meanwhile, Die Linke and the AfD oppose rearmament from opposite ideological perspectives. Parliamentary arithmetic could thus prove tricky, despite constitutional backing for the special fund. Another challenge: Any defence procurement over €25 million still requires approval from the Bundestag's Budget Committee. This postwar safeguard against militarism makes defence planning highly sensitive to shifting coalitions, public opinion, and political bargaining. There's no doubt that Zeitenwende marks a new era. For the first time since reunification, Germany is taking its defence obligations seriously. NATO allies — especially in Eastern Europe — have welcomed the shift. Even the US, long frustrated by Germany's military hesitancy, acknowledged the change during Chancellor Merz's visit to Washington on June 6, with Donald Trump cautiously commending the new direction. But transformation requires more than budgets and weapons — it needs a cultural shift. Germany must forge a new strategic consensus: That military readiness is a safeguard for peace, not a threat to it. This demands political leadership, public dialogue, and tangible improvements in the Bundeswehr's capabilities. Critics who argue that defence spending diverts resources from social needs often ignore a fundamental truth: Without security, prosperity cannot be sustained. Germany's export-driven economy depends on a stable global order — one now threatened by Russian aggression, cyberwarfare, terrorism, and authoritarianism. The days of complacency are over. At the same time, defence advocates must tread carefully. German strategic culture remains cautious. Any sense that the Bundeswehr is being rebuilt for adventurism — or that civil liberties are being eroded in the name of security — could provoke backlash. Transparency, restraint, and adherence to democratic norms are essential. Germany's real test lies not just in spending more, but in spending wisely. That means delivering visible outcomes: Enhanced operational readiness, better troop morale, and credible deterrence. It also means preserving democratic values while projecting stability. The Zeitenwende Plus is not a singular moment but a sustained commitment. Germany must internalise that its global role has changed — not just because of Ukraine, but because the geopolitical environment demands it. A well-equipped, principled Germany can be a pillar of European security — but only if its leaders bring the public with them, not only in moments of crisis, but through steady, transparent governance. In the end, Germany's defence awakening will not be measured by euros spent — but by what it defends, and how. The writer is former ambassador to Germany, Indonesia, Ethiopia ASEAN and the African Union
