Sunday, 6 April 2025

"Flor de Abril"

"Flor de Abril"

(Partially based from the song "Depois do Adeus")


I

Lisbon, early April 1974 

Pablo had asked himself a hundred times who he was. A soldier, yes. But more than that? He wasn’t sure anymore. 

The uniform he wore had begun to feel like a shackle, not just on his body, but on his very soul. He had been trained to obey, to follow orders without hesitation. Yet lately, the weight of his actions felt unbearable. In the stillness of the barracks, when the others talked of loyalty and duty, he found himself questioning everything — not just his place in the military, but his place in the world. 

That was when he met Astrid. 

Astrid was unlike anyone he had ever known. A woman who lived between the lines of poetry, philosophy, and revolution. She worked at a small bookshop near the Convento do Carmo, an intimate space that felt more like a refuge than a place of commerce. The smell of old paper and ink, mingling with the fragrance of freshly brewed coffee from the shop’s corner, seemed to pull him in whenever he walked by. 

It was a rainy afternoon when they first spoke. She was standing at a tram stop, holding a pile of books as though they were more precious than gold, while the rain soaked her clothes. Pablo had been walking by, lost in thought, when he noticed her — drenched, but smiling softly as though the rain didn’t bother her. 

Without thinking, he offered her his coat. She glanced at it, then at him, before shaking her head gently. 

“You’re kind,” she said, her voice soft but strong, “but I’ve weathered worse storms.” 

It was an innocent remark, but one that stayed with him long after the rain had stopped. She didn’t just survive; she thrived in the storm. 

They began meeting regularly at Café A Brasileira, a popular spot where the city’s intellectuals gathered, their conversations spilling out into the streets. At first, their meetings felt accidental, as though fate had a hand in them. But soon, it became routine, and Pablo found himself longing for the sound of her voice, the sharpness of her wit, the way she could speak about freedom and injustice as if they were one and the same. 

Astrid spoke of change often, knowing after the long years of dictatorship, of the people’s silent suffering. She spoke of Portugal’s future, of what they could be if only they dared to break free from the chains that had bound them for so long. But Pablo spoke little of his own role. He had been part of the MFA, the Military Revolutionary Movement that had quietly been planning the coup for months. 

Though they grew closer, he never told her the truth — that the revolution, the change she longed for, was in part his doing. He feared her disappointment. But there was something in the way she looked at him, as though she already knew. 

One evening, as they walked along the Tejo, the river quietly reflecting the dimming sky, she turned to him and asked, “Do you believe this country can be free?” 
Pablo hesitated. His heart felt heavy. “I don’t know,” he said honestly, “but I hope so.” 
“But you’re doing something,” she replied, her gaze unwavering. “I can feel it.” 

He kissed her then, not as an answer to her question, but as a way to quiet the turmoil inside him. But even in her kiss, he felt the weight of the truth pressing against him. 

II 

April 23, 1974 

The night was quiet, the air still. Lisbon’s streets, often filled with the hum of trams and the bustle of late-night conversations, now seemed to hold their breath. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silver light across the city, bathing it in a soft, ethereal glow. Inside the small apartment that Pablo had come to call home for the past few months, the only sound was the gentle rhythm of their breathing. 

Astrid lay beside him, her head resting against his chest. He could feel the steady rise and fall of her breath, warm and steady, matching his own. The scent of her hair, like wildflowers after a spring rain, lingered in the air. Her skin was soft beneath his fingers, her body curled into his in the familiar comfort of their shared intimacy. The weight of the world seemed to vanish in this moment, as if time itself had momentarily frozen. 

But even in this silence, Pablo could feel the weight of the coming storm pressing down on him. He had been waiting for this night — the night when everything would change. His heart pounded not just from the closeness of her body, but from the knowledge of the choice that lay ahead. The revolution was coming. The mission was clear. And yet, as he held her, he wondered how much he could truly leave behind. 

“I had a dream,” Astrid whispered, breaking the quiet. Her voice was soft, but there was an edge of sadness in it, as though the words were pulled from a place of deep vulnerability. “That you left, and I stayed. And when you came back, we had become strangers.” 

Pablo’s chest tightened at the thought. He had never heard her speak like this before. Her words felt like a weight pressing down on him, like a secret truth that had been buried deep in his heart, one he hadn’t wanted to confront. He tightened his arms around her, pulling her closer, as if trying to hold onto this fleeting moment of peace before the chaos of the next few days. 

“I’ll never leave you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, though even as the words left his mouth, he knew they weren’t entirely true. Not in the way she meant. The revolution was already in motion. He was part of something much larger than himself now. And when it was over, he feared it would change everything. It would change them. It had to. 

The night before, Pablo had received the final orders: the coup would begin at midnight. The signal would be the first notes of the song “E Depois do Adeus” playing on the radio — a symbol of resistance, of hope, of the freedom they had all been waiting for. At the first sound of those notes, he and his comrades would move quickly, seizing key positions in the city — the airport, the radio stations, the military barracks. They would carry their gun- only to see people beside them carrying flowers. Carnations, the symbol of peace and revolution. It would be a bloodless coup, a revolution not born of hatred, but of the quiet, determined will to break free from the chains that had bound the country for so long. 

But as he held Astrid in his arms, he felt a deep sorrow creeping into his heart. He was not just fighting for a better future for Portugal. He was fighting for her, for the life they had begun to build together, a life that had been born in the shadow of a repressive regime. He was fighting to give her the freedom to live without fear, to speak her mind without looking over her shoulder. But he knew this fight would come at a cost. The revolution, for all its promise, would leave scars. And one of those scars might very well be the one that came between them. 

“Partir é morrer,” she said, her voice thick with emotion, almost a whisper. “Leaving is dying a little.” 

Her words echoed in the silence of the room, like the soft tolling of a distant bell. Pablo’s heart clenched at the truth of them. He had heard it before — in books, in the speeches of revolutionaries, in the quiet conversations of the people who had suffered under the dictatorship for so long. But hearing it from her, hearing it in this moment, made it feel all the more real. 

Astrid was right. Leaving would mean leaving behind not just a part of himself, but a part of her, too. It would mean stepping into a world where they would be changed forever, where the love they had built — tentative, fragile, but real — would be torn apart and rebuilt in ways neither of them could predict. She had already seen it. She had already felt it. She knew, in the depths of her soul, what the revolution would cost. 

Pablo brushed a strand of her hair away from her face, his fingers trembling slightly. He didn’t want to believe it. He didn’t want to believe that leaving her, even for a noble cause, would change everything. But the truth was undeniable. The revolution would demand sacrifices. It would demand more from him than he had ever been willing to give. 

“I’ll come back,” he promised, though his words felt hollow even as he said them. He wanted to believe them. He wanted to believe that he would return to her, that they would pick up where they left off, that the world would return to its rightful balance and they could be together again. But deep down, he knew better. He had already made the decision. He had already crossed the line. 

This night would be the last time they were truly together, the last time they could hold each other without fear, without the weight of history pressing down on them. 

“Promise me something,” Astrid said, her voice breaking through his thoughts. 
“Anything,” Pablo replied, his voice thick with emotion. 
“Promise me that when the revolution is over, when everything is finished, we will find each other again. No matter what happens, no matter where we are, we will find our way back to each other.” 

Pablo hesitated, his mind swirling with the uncertainty of the future. He wanted to promise her that, to give her the comfort of those words, but the truth was that he wasn’t sure he would survive the coming days. He wasn’t sure if they would ever have the chance to find each other again. 

But in that moment, he made a decision. He pulled her closer, pressing his lips to her forehead. “I promise,” he whispered, though even as he spoke, he knew that promises were fragile things. The world had a way of shattering even the strongest ones. 

They lay together in silence after that, their bodies entwined, as the clock ticked toward midnight. The weight of the coming revolution pressed heavily on them both, but for a few fleeting moments, it was just the two of them — two souls caught in the web of history, bound by love and the fragile hope of a future that had yet to be written. 

And as the first notes of “E Depois do Adeus” began to play on the radio, they both knew that the moment had come. The world outside was about to change. And so were they. 

III 

April 25, 1974 

The dawn broke cold, the first light of morning creeping slowly over the city of Lisbon. The streets, usually filled with the hum of life, lay eerily still. The usual sounds — the cries of street vendors, the clattering of trams, the chatter of workers and families preparing for their day — were absent. Instead, the air seemed to hold its breath, as if the city itself were waiting for something to happen. The sun’s pale fingers stretched across the rooftops, casting long shadows along the cobbled streets. It was as if time had slowed, holding on to that fragile moment between the night and the day — a moment that would mark the end of an era. 

Pablo and his fellow officers moved swiftly, their steps purposeful, their faces set with the quiet determination of men who knew that history was about to unfold in ways that would change everything. The plan had been set for months, each movement, each action meticulously timed. The signal was simple — a song, played on the radio, the familiar and defiant notes of “E Depois do Adeus” and "Grandola Vila Morena", songs that had become a symbol of the resistance. The message was clear: freedom had arrived. 

Pablo felt the weight of it all, pressing on him like a physical force. He had never imagined that it would feel this heavy. There was no turning back now. His hands, usually steady, now trembled slightly as he held the radio to his ear, waiting for the first sounds to echo out into the morning air. He could hear the low hum of the transmission, the static that preceded the moment of change. And then, the first notes of the song began to play, cutting through the stillness of the early hour. 

It was as if the music itself was a call to arms, not with violence, but with hope. The soldiers who had gathered in their positions — once instruments of the regime — began to move. Some took their places at the strategic points, ready to follow through with the plan. But others, eyes wide and faces taut with the weight of a country’s pain, hesitated. And then, something incredible happened. The people — the ordinary citizens, the ones who had lived their lives in quiet suffering under the regime — were already moving, too. They had heard the song. They knew what it meant. It wasn’t just a signal to the soldiers; it was a signal to them as well. 

And so, the revolution began — not with the clash of weapons, not with the roar of gunfire, but with flowers. 

Carnations — simple, humble flowers — were thrust into the barrels of rifles. Soldiers who had once feared defying the regime looked at the flowers, then at the people, and in a moment of clarity, they stepped aside. Some soldiers, their faces weathered with years of obedience and regret, joined the crowds, their arms raised in solidarity, their rifles now discarded. The streets of Lisbon filled with the sound of people singing, shouting, weeping, laughing — emotions unburdened for the first time in so long. The air was thick with the scent of carnations, the scent of something new, something alive, something full of promise. 

The revolution was unfolding before him, and yet, despite the swelling tide of joy and triumph, Pablo’s heart felt tight with unease. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. Amidst the crowd, amidst the cries of victory and the weight of history shifting in the air, he couldn’t find her. 

Astrid. 

Her absence was like a dark cloud hanging over him, threatening to overshadow the brightness of the moment. He had promised her he would return, that he would find her again. But now, as he moved through the streets, the crowds swelling around him, he began to fear that promise was already broken. 

The revolution had come, but it had also taken something from him. 

The night before, as they lay together, Astrid had been so sure, so resolute. Her voice had echoed in his mind, still haunting him — “Promise me that when the revolution is over, when everything is finished, we will find each other again.” He had promised her. He had made the promise, but now it felt like a cruel joke. 

His feet carried him through the streets, a part of him driven by the same desire for freedom that fueled the masses, but another part of him, the part that had truly loved her, was pulling him in a different direction. The revolution was happening, but she wasn’t there to see it. She wasn’t there to experience the joy of the city finally breathing free. 

By mid-afternoon, the city had transformed. Those who defend the past regime had surrendered, the last pockets of resistance crushed under the weight of the people’s demand for change. The government that had reigned for decades had crumbled. It was a bloodless coup. It was beautiful. 

But it was also incomplete. 

Pablo knew he had to find her. He had to know where she was, if she was safe, if she had been caught up in the chaos of it all. He ran toward the bookshop where they had spent so many hours talking, planning, dreaming of a future that no longer seemed so far away. 

But when he arrived, the door was locked. He knocked, but there was no answer. His breath caught in his chest. The windows, once filled with the warm light of late afternoons, were dark. Inside, everything was still. He peered through the cracks in the door, hoping to catch a glimpse of her — the familiar sight of her behind the counter, the books stacked high, the warm smile that had made him feel like there was still beauty in a broken world. 

But the shelves were empty. The bookshop that had once felt like a safe haven, a place of hope in a time of despair, was now hollow, a shell of its former self. It was as if she had disappeared along with the regime, vanishing into the ether like a memory too precious to hold onto. 

His heart sank, and for the first time that day, he felt the weight of the revolution not as triumph, but as loss. 

Where was she? 

The revolution had come, and the world had changed. But what of the promises they had made? What of the love they had shared? 

The streets of Lisbon were filled with people celebrating, with laughter and music, with the promise of a new beginning. But for Pablo, that promise was incomplete without her. 

He searched the city for days. He spoke to friends, to revolutionaries, to anyone who might have seen her. He walked the alleys, sat in the cafés where they had once shared whispered conversations. But she was gone. No one had seen her. No one knew where she had gone. It was as if the revolution had taken her as well. 

And so, Pablo was left standing in the midst of the city that had risen up against its oppressors, surrounded by the jubilant crowds, but with an emptiness in his chest that no amount of victory could fill. 

IV 

Weeks Later 

The city had settled into its new rhythm, the weight of its past finally beginning to lift, though the scars still remained, etched into the minds of those who had lived through the years of darkness. But for Pablo, the world around him felt heavier than ever. The revolution had come, and the world had changed. Yet, there was a void within him — a wound that no amount of political freedom or social transformation could heal. 

Through a friend in the underground, Pablo learned the truth. The truth about Astrid. 

She had been a part of the resistance. Not the way he had imagined — not as someone who had simply stood by, who had passively supported from the sidelines. No, she had been deeply involved. Her bookshop, the very place where he had first met her, where they had shared dreams and whispered promises, had been a cover. A façade. Beneath the shelves of carefully curated literature and the soft, warm light of the lamps, there had been something more. 

She had been carrying messages. Documents. Plans. Names of those who had risked their lives to challenge the regime. She had been a vital part of the network, her role more critical than he could ever have known. Every day, as she had smiled at customers, recommended books, and laughed softly with him, she had been carrying the weight of a nation’s rebellion in her bags, in her heart. 

Pablo had never suspected. He had never known. She had kept it hidden — even from him. The betrayal, or perhaps the love, had been in the silence. Perhaps she hadn’t trusted him, or perhaps she had loved him so deeply that she had kept him out of the danger she lived with every day. A danger that had been both her greatest strength and the deepest burden she had carried. 

And now, in the wake of the revolution, Pablo felt the sharp sting of that silence. He had never truly known her. He had only known the parts of her that she had allowed him to see. But there were layers, hidden behind her laughter, her books, her eyes. Layers that had been a part of the resistance, of a fight she had chosen to face alone. 

For days, Pablo walked the city. He asked anyone who might have known her, anyone who might have seen her after the dust of revolution had settled. He visited the old cafés where they had shared countless moments, the riverside benches where they had sat, their hands intertwined, talking of a future they both thought was assured. He searched the streets, the corners of the city where they had once found solace. He wandered through the parks, beneath the flowering trees, the scent of blossoms heavy in the air, but there was no trace of her. No sign that the woman he had loved — the woman who had carried the weight of revolution in her heart — had ever existed. 

Lisbon had changed. The dictatorship was a distant memory, fading into the past like a bad dream. The sound of music filled the air, the kind that once had been forbidden, now echoing freely from the radios and in the hearts of the people. The streets were no longer filled with whispers and fear, but with song and laughter. The revolution had succeeded, and the world had opened up, but it felt like a world she was no longer a part of. 

The bookshop near Convento do Carmo — the one that had been their meeting place, their sanctuary — was still there. But now, it was run by a young woman, someone who didn’t know the history of the place, or the stories that had been told within its walls. The shelves were still lined with the same books, the same dusty pages, but everything had changed. Everything except the memory of Astrid. 

Behind the counter, a faded photograph caught Pablo’s eye. It was a picture of Astrid, smiling brightly, her arms filled with books, her face framed by the soft light of the shop. She was so alive in that photo, so full of promise and hope. But now, that hope felt distant, like a dream fading in the early morning mist. 

Pablo never told the young woman who he was. He didn’t need to. He didn’t want to disturb the illusion that the place still held for him. He simply sat in the corner, ordering coffee, letting the bittersweet aroma fill the air around him. He read Neruda, though the words no longer carried the same meaning they once had. They felt like ghosts now, echoes of things he had lost. 

In the quiet of the café, as the sun filtered through the windows and the sound of the city flowed in around him, he could feel her presence. It wasn’t tangible. It wasn’t something he could hold. But it was there, in the corners of the room, in the soft turn of a page, in the stillness of the air. She was still with him, even though she wasn’t. 

The revolution had given him freedom. It had given the people of Lisbon something they had longed for. A future without fear. A future without oppression. It had given them life. 

But it had also taken something from him — something irreplaceable. Something that no amount of political change could ever return. 

He thought about the way she had come into his life, like a sudden bloom in the middle of winter, vibrant and full of life. She had come in bloom, a bright light in a dark world, and he had picked her too soon. He had loved her without fully understanding the depth of that love, without seeing the full weight of what she carried. 

He had given her nothing — nothing compared to what she had given him. She had risked everything. She had fought for freedom, for a future that he could only dream of, and yet, in the end, he had been a passive participant. He had stood by, unaware of the danger, unaware of the sacrifice she had made. 

Love, Pablo realized, was a paradox. It was both winning and losing. It was the sweetest joy and the deepest sorrow. And in the end, he had lost her. Not because she had left him, but because he had never truly known her. He had never understood the weight of her love, the depths of her sacrifice. 

But in that loss, something had changed within him. He had been reborn. The revolution, as much as it had taken from him, had also given him something else — a new understanding of what it meant to love, to fight, to sacrifice. It had shown him the importance of living with integrity, of choosing something greater than oneself, even when the cost was unbearable. 

And so, he continued to walk the city, a city that was no longer the same, and neither was he. He would never forget her, never forget the way she had made him feel alive. But he would also never forget the lessons she had taught him. That love was not just about possession, not about clinging to something or someone. It was about freedom, about choice, about sacrifice. 

In the quiet of the café, in the smell of old pages, in the soft bloom of April flowers, he felt her presence again. Though she was gone, she had left behind a legacy in him. The revolution had come, and he had lost her. But through that loss, he had gained something even more precious: the understanding that love, real love, was the force that moved the world. 

*** 

Reunion: A Love Reborn 

Lisbon, Spring 1978 

The city had changed, but Pablo hadn’t. 

The streets that once seemed so alive with the pulse of revolution, the air now filled with the vibrant sounds of freedom and possibility, were no longer the same. The world around him was unrecognizable in some ways. The revolution had come and gone, leaving behind a Lisbon that was no longer weighed down by the shadows of dictatorship. People laughed, sang, and moved through the city without fear, but for Pablo, there was still a quiet yearning deep in his chest — a longing he couldn’t shake. 

He had spent years searching for her, but it had been a search that grew quieter with each passing day. His heart had once been set on finding her — Astrid. The woman who had been both his everything and his lost dream. She had vanished into the fog of history, and with her disappearance, a piece of him had gone, too. 

Pablo had searched tirelessly. He had visited the old bookshop near Convento do Carmo, retracing the steps of their first meeting, the places they had laughed and talked about their hopes for a future that now seemed so distant. He had walked the familiar streets, asking anyone who might know her, but no one had. The years wore on, and the answers grew fewer, the questions more painful. But in the silence, in the absence of her, he had learned to carry on. He had built a new life, one that fit the new Lisbon — one that was free, vibrant, and full of life. But still, there was that ache, that emptiness that no revolution, no victory, could fill. 

He had given up on ever seeing her again. Yet, he couldn’t quite rid himself of the feeling that somehow, in some way, she might be out there. That one day, their paths would cross again. But as time passed, even that hope began to fade. 

Then, one quiet afternoon, everything changed. 

Pablo entered Café A Brasileira, a place he often visited to sit, to think, to remember. The air was thick with the smell of coffee, and the low murmur of conversation filled the space. The café was bustling, as usual, with people coming and going, laughing and sharing stories. He found a seat by the window, a familiar spot where he could watch the world go by, where he could let the city’s rhythm lull him into a rare peace. 

He wasn’t expecting anything, not really. He had long since accepted that the world had moved on, and so had he. But then, as if the world had shifted its course, he saw her. 

She stood across the room, her figure framed by the soft light filtering through the window. At first, it was like a mirage, a trick of the light. But no — it was her. Astrid. She hadn’t changed. At least, not in the ways that mattered. Her blue dress was the same one she had worn all those years ago. Her hair, though longer now, still cascaded in soft waves around her shoulders, the same deep brown. She was older, her face marked by time, but she was still the woman he had loved, the woman who had haunted his every thought. 

When their eyes met, everything else in the café seemed to fade away. The noise, the movement, the chatter — it all dissolved. For a moment, time stopped, and it was just the two of them, standing in that quiet space, both uncertain, both searching for something that had been lost. 

She didn’t smile immediately. She just stood there, staring at him, her eyes searching for something, perhaps for confirmation that he was real. That this moment was real. And then, slowly, as though the weight of years had pressed down on her, she began to walk toward him. 

Pablo stood up, his heart pounding in his chest. He had imagined this moment a thousand times, but now that it was here, words seemed inadequate. What could he say? What could ever be enough after everything that had passed? 

“Você ainda espera por mim?” she asked, her voice a melody that carried with it the weight of all the unspoken things between them. “Do you still wait for me?” 

Pablo’s throat tightened. He nodded, his voice failing him. How could he explain the years of searching, of longing? How could he convey the ache that had lived in him all this time? All he could do was nod, the words trapped somewhere deep inside him. 

She sat down across from him, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke. They just looked at each other, silently measuring the distance between them — the time that had passed, the things that had changed, the things that hadn’t. 

“You disappeared,” Pablo finally said, his voice thick with emotion. “I searched for you everywhere. I couldn’t find you.” 

Astrid’s eyes softened, a shadow of sadness crossing her face. “I had to go,” she said quietly. “There were things I couldn’t share. Not then. Not with you.” 

Pablo shook his head, the frustration of all those years of unanswered questions coming to the surface. “But why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you trust me enough to let me in?” 

“I couldn’t risk it,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I couldn’t risk losing you, not when I knew what was coming. The revolution. The danger. The fight. I had my part to play, and you had yours. I couldn’t pull you into that world.” 

“But I would have understood,” he said, his heart breaking with the unspoken truth that had hovered between them for so long. “I would’ve been with you. Always.” 

Her eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them away before they could fall. “I didn’t know if I could ever come back, Pablo. I didn’t know if I could face you again, knowing everything I had seen, everything I had done. But when the city began to change, when I felt the pulse of a new Lisbon, I knew I had to find you. I had to see you again.” 

“Why now?” Pablo asked, his heart racing, each beat pulling him deeper into the moment. 

She smiled, a small, bittersweet smile, and for a moment, she seemed to let go of the weight of the past. “Because, after all the revolutions — after all the victories and the losses — I realized something. Love is not just about winning or losing. It’s about remembering. And I remember you, Pablo. I remember us.” 

Pablo reached across the table, his hand trembling slightly as he took hers in his. For a long moment, they simply held each other’s hand, the warmth of her touch anchoring him in a way that he hadn’t known he needed. “You came back to me in bloom,” he whispered, the words coming back to him like a forgotten song. 

Astrid squeezed his hand gently, her eyes filled with a quiet hope. “And I hope I can stay. In the bloom of this new world, in this new Lisbon, I hope we can start again.” 

Pablo didn’t respond immediately. He didn’t need to. He just held her hand, feeling the weight of everything that had passed, the years of waiting, the pain, the love — and now, the chance to begin again. In that moment, he understood. Love wasn’t about perfect timing. It wasn’t about waiting for everything to fall into place. It was about finding someone who could carry your heart, even when it seemed lost, even when the world seemed to be falling apart. And then, when you were lucky enough, you could let the world come together again, piece by piece. 

“Astrid,” he said, finally finding the words he had needed all this time. “I’ll wait for you again. Always.” 

Her smile, though small, was full of all the things that had been lost and found between them. And for the first time in years, Pablo felt at peace. The revolution had come and gone. The city had transformed, but so had they. And in the quiet of that reunion, they both knew that the revolution wasn’t just in the streets. It was in them. It was in the love they had lost and found again. 

And that was the greatest victory of all. 

 

Friday, 4 April 2025

Rolling Up Sleeves for the Nation's sake: Treating Trump's MAGA as a Challenge to the Philippines Amid Tariff Changes and Geopolitical Tensions

Rolling Up Sleeves for the Nation's sake: 
Treating Trump's MAGA as a Challenge to the Philippines
 Amid Tariff Changes and Geopolitical Tensions


In an era marked by shifting global power dynamics, U.S. President Donald Trump’s announcement of a 17 percent tariff on Philippine goods starting April 9 presents both a challenge and an opportunity for the Philippines. The move, part of Trump’s “Liberation Day” tariff policy, is designed to strengthen the U.S. economy and protect American workers. While this policy may initially hurt Filipino exporters, it also serves as a wake-up call—a challenge for the Philippines to chart its own course and reassess its place in the world, especially amid rising Sino-American tensions over the Pacific. 

At a time when the U.S. and China engage in saber-rattling, and the Philippines finds itself caught in the crossfire, the country can no longer afford to be passive. It must take ownership of its future—economically and geopolitically—and consider Trump’s “Make America Great Again” (MAGA) principles not as a doctrine to follow but as a challenge to adapt and apply. Trump’s policies offer a unique opportunity for the Philippines to reassess its reliance on foreign powers and consider how it might carve out a path of self-sufficiency, independence, and resilience in the face of global uncertainties. 

Trump’s MAGA: A Challenge, Not a Blueprint 

Trump’s MAGA agenda has focused on economic self-sufficiency, seeking to rebuild America’s manufacturing sector and reduce its dependence on foreign imports. This vision, while understandable for the U.S., is not a one-size-fits-all solution for every nation. His approach to tariffs—designed to protect American industries at the expense of foreign trade partners—echoes the protectionist rhetoric of President Warren Harding in the 1920s and the nationalist sentiments of President Ronald Reagan, who championed American strength during the Cold War. However, Trump’s policies diverge from both Harding’s and Reagan’s approaches, especially in terms of their underlying motivations. 

Harding’s “Return to Normalcy” aimed to bring stability after the First World War, while Reagan focused on global leadership and spreading American values. Trump’s policies, in contrast, are more transactional and focused on securing short-term victories. His “America First” agenda often sacrifices long-term diplomatic relationships for immediate economic gains, particularly in terms of trade imbalances. As such, while MAGA may provide some useful lessons for the Philippines, it is not a model to follow blindly. Instead, the Philippines must view it as a challenge—an opportunity to reassess its own economic policies and forge a path that is suited to its unique circumstances. 

The Philippines’ Path to Economic Independence 

If Trump’s policies push the U.S. toward economic self-sufficiency, the Philippines should consider how it might adopt similar principles to fortify its own economy. While the tariffs may hurt Filipino exporters in the short term, they also expose the fragility of an economy heavily reliant on external markets, especially the U.S. The Philippines cannot afford to remain dependent on a volatile global marketplace or a single trading partner. Now is the time for the country to focus on building a more resilient, self-sustaining economy. 

Dindo Manhit, president of the Manila-based think tank Stratbase ADR Institute, highlighted that the relatively low tariff of 17% imposed on the Philippines “presents both risks and opportunities for the country.” While this move could make Philippine products less competitive in the U.S. market, it also opens doors for new trade and investment prospects. “The Philippines, with a comparatively lower tariff rate, could position itself as an attractive alternative for businesses looking to diversify their supply chains,” Manhit said.

This presents an exciting opportunity for the Philippines. The country could leverage the 17 percent tariff as a way to entice businesses seeking alternatives to China or other regions that may be facing escalating geopolitical risks. By positioning itself as a viable and cost-effective trade partner, the Philippines could draw new investments and diversify its export markets beyond the U.S. and China. This not only mitigates the risk of relying too heavily on any single trading partner but also allows the country to solidify its position in the broader global economy.

The Philippines’ economic structure has long been shaped by trade, with a significant emphasis on raw materials and basic manufacturing exports. However, this dependence makes it vulnerable to global market fluctuations and shifts in foreign policy. To foster true economic independence, the Philippines must invest in advanced industries such as renewable energy, high-value electronics, and defense manufacturing. By focusing on sectors that are not only resilient to external shocks but also competitive in the global marketplace, the Philippines can build an economy that stands strong on its own—much as Trump aims for the U.S. to do. 

The Case for a Shift Toward Domestic Industrialization 
and Agricultural Development

However, the right response to these tariffs must go beyond simply chasing new trade deals or relying on foreign investment. Sonny Africa, of the IBON Foundation, stressed the need for the Philippines to focus on domestic-based development, particularly in agriculture and manufacturing, instead of further deepening its dependence on foreign imports. “The right response to Trump’s tariffs isn’t to yearn for a bygone world of lower tariffs nor to fall over ourselves to please foreign investment,” Africa argued. “Doing this for the last 45 years just made PH manufacturing and agriculture fall to historic low shares of the economy, worsened our import-dependence, and made cheap labor our biggest export.”

Africa’s comments underscore a critical truth: the Philippines’ past approach of relying on foreign markets has led to systemic weaknesses in its domestic industries. The country must pivot away from a model that has placed cheap labor and import dependency at the forefront. Instead, Africa calls for a return to “real agricultural development and national industrialization.” Filipino farms and industrial firms need protection and support—not the fairy tale of free markets that has, in effect, undermined local industries and deepened dependency.

“The right response is to deal with the looming inflationary pressures, but also to look far beyond to real agricultural development and national industrialization,” Africa said. The Philippines cannot afford to let its industries wither while competing in a global market that favors efficiency over local resilience. Supporting domestic industries—especially agriculture and manufacturing—will be key to securing long-term economic stability and reducing vulnerability to global market fluctuations.

The Need for a Stronger, Independent Foreign Policy 

Geopolitically, the Philippines finds itself caught between two superpowers—the U.S. and China—as tensions over the South China Sea and the broader Pacific region continue to escalate. In this environment, the Philippines cannot afford to remain passive or overly reliant on any single ally. As the situation unfolds, it is clear that the country must adopt a foreign policy that is grounded in its own national interests, one that asserts its sovereignty and independence rather than depending on an external ally to dictate its actions. 

To do so, the Philippines must look beyond the traditional East-West divide and explore diplomatic and economic partnerships that align with its own interests. While the relationship with the U.S. remains vital, the Philippines should consider diversifying its alliances with countries such as India, Japan, Russia, and other ASEAN members. In doing so, the Philippines can better protect its territorial claims and assert its independence in a region where competition for influence is intensifying. 

By fostering stronger ties with emerging global powers, the Philippines can avoid the risks of being caught in the middle of a U.S.-China rivalry. This strategic diversification will allow the country to play a more active and influential role in shaping regional security, ensuring that it is not beholden to any one nation for its defense or economic wellbeing. 

Military Self-Reliance and Sovereignty 

In the face of growing regional tensions, it is increasingly clear that the Philippines must prioritize military self-reliance. While the U.S. remains a critical defense partner, the country can no longer afford to solely depend on external powers for its security. The Philippines must take steps to modernize its military, particularly its maritime capabilities, to protect its territorial integrity in the South China Sea. 

Building a more self-sufficient military force does not mean severing ties with traditional allies, but rather enhancing the Philippines’ ability to defend itself. By investing in defense technology, infrastructure, and personnel, the Philippines can ensure that it is prepared to protect its national interests without waiting for external assistance. This approach is in line with Trump’s MAGA principles, which emphasize self-reliance and reducing dependence on foreign powers—lessons the Philippines can adapt for its own defense needs. 

A Call for Action: Embrace the Challenge 

Trump’s MAGA policies may have driven the U.S. toward economic self-sufficiency, but the Philippines should view these changes not as a threat, but as a challenge to rise to. The country cannot afford to remain passive or wait for its “ally” to intervene when the stakes are high. Instead, it must take proactive steps to build a more resilient economy, assert its independence in foreign policy, and strengthen its defense capabilities. 

The Philippines stands at a crossroads. The path forward will require both bold action and strategic foresight—rolling up sleeves to create an economy and defense system that is not dependent on external forces. By embracing the challenge of self-reliance and sovereignty, the Philippines can emerge as a stronger, more independent player on the world stage, capable of navigating the complexities of a rapidly changing geopolitical landscape. 

Tuesday, 1 April 2025

Duterte’s Lawyer’s ‘Kidnapping’ Claim: A Distraction from the Real Issue?

Duterte’s Lawyer’s ‘Kidnapping’ Claim: 
A Distraction from the Real Issue?



Nicholas Kaufman, the lawyer for former Philippine President Rodrigo Duterte, recently claimed that his client’s arrest by the International Criminal Court (ICC) was nothing more than “kidnapping.” This absurd assertion, framed as an “extrajudicial rendition,” distracts from the real issue: Duterte’s role in a brutal war on drugs that left thousands dead. Kaufman’s argument isn’t just legally weak, it’s an attempt to sideline the serious charges against Duterte, ones that demand accountability on the global stage. 

What’s even more telling is the broader question this legal maneuver raises: If Duterte’s supporters truly believe in his innocence, why are they not helping him face justice in a legitimate international forum to clear his name? Why is their concept of justice so narrowly confined to a broken local system, riddled with corruption, impunity, and “hoodlums in robes,” as critics of the government would put it? Why does it take an international body like the ICC to investigate, prosecute, and possibly put Duterte on trial, while local courts—where this battle should have been fought from the start—have been complicit in turning a blind eye to the thousands killed in Duterte’s drug war? 

Instead of supporting Duterte’s defense in a proper legal setting, his defenders are playing this distraction game, seeking to undermine the international process that could provide the impartial examination of the evidence that the local system failed to do. This is not about procedural technicalities; it’s about accountability for the systematic, state-sponsored killings under Duterte’s orders. Whether the death toll is 6,000 or 30,000, the ICC’s case hinges on proving that Duterte endorsed and encouraged extrajudicial killings, that his government turned a blind eye to atrocities, and that these actions amounted to crimes against humanity. It’s about powerful figures being held accountable when local systems have failed to do so. 

Kaufman’s claim of “kidnapping” has already been dismissed by legal experts, including Atty. Joel Butuyan, an ICC-accredited lawyer, who called it a “rehashed” argument with no merit. Butuyan pointed out that Duterte’s arrest was in full compliance with the law, following valid legal procedures, with a warrant issued, and with Duterte’s rights respected. The ICC maintains jurisdiction over the case, as the crimes allegedly took place while the Philippines was still a member state. Kaufman’s attempt to discredit the ICC’s authority has already been debunked and will likely fail to prevent the trial from moving forward. 

So why does this matter? It’s not just about the technicalities of international law. It’s about the fundamental question of justice: if Duterte’s supporters truly care about his innocence, why are they not pushing for him to face justice head-on, instead of playing this charade of resistance? Why are they trying to deflect from the clear evidence of wrongdoing that has led to Duterte’s arrest and international scrutiny? If they want to show they’re serious about justice, why not embrace the legal process that could clear his name rather than undermining it? 

It’s striking how those who now rally to Duterte’s defense were the same voices that dismissed calls for justice during his reign—when victims of the drug war had nowhere to turn and the government refused to even acknowledge the deaths. These defenders now question the legitimacy of the ICC’s jurisdiction, despite it being backed by both the Philippines Supreme Court and international law. Where was their outrage when local calls for accountability were dismissed as “jest” or “nonsense”? They now speak of “dura lex sed lex”—the law is harsh, but it is the law—yet fail to apply it when the law might actually bring justice against Duterte. Does their understanding of justice stop at the local level, where powerful figures like Duterte could escape accountability? Or is justice only serious when it’s being handled by international bodies, and not the very same local systems they once disregarded? 

This is a moment for the Philippines to truly examine its commitment to justice. Duterte’s defenders may be quick to claim he’s a victim of international politics, but they’re the ones avoiding the real question: Why, when it comes to serious allegations of extrajudicial killings and crimes against humanity, does it take the ICC to get to the truth when local courts have failed? If they really believe in Duterte’s innocence, they should help him face justice, not continue with this narrative of evasion. Because in the end, justice is not about protecting powerful individuals—it’s about ensuring accountability, no matter how high up the chain it goes. 

Saturday, 29 March 2025

The Second Trump Administration: a possible MAGA Divide?

The Second Trump Administration: a possible MAGA Divide?

An analysis by Kat Ulrike


Introduction: The Post-2024 Ideological Crisis of MAGA

The re-election of Donald Trump in 2024 marked a critical juncture in the evolution of the MAGA movement. While his first term (2017–2021) blended populist rhetoric with traditional Republican policymaking, his second term (2025–2029) exposed deep ideological rifts within his political coalition.

Hypothetically, there are two competing tendencies emerged within the MAGA movement:

1. Neo-Hardingism – A brand of economic nationalism that emphasized industrial revival, protectionist trade policies, and isolationism, yet often favored corporate interests over working-class concerns.

2. Neo-Reaganism – A fusion of MAGA’s cultural populism with corporate conservatism, maintaining Reagan-era economic principles such as tax cuts, deregulation, and a strong interventionist foreign policy.

However, rather than resolving these tensions, Trump’s second administration saw a decisive shift away from economic reform and toward cultural battles. This transition transformed MAGA into a movement more concerned with combating “wokeness” than with restructuring the economy, effectively turning it into a form of right-wing identity politics. The result was a reactionary force rather than a coherent governing ideology.

The Rise of Neo-Hardingism in Trump’s Second Term

During the 2024 campaign, Trump’s promise to “Rebuild American Greatness” centered on economic nationalism. This stance was a direct response to the economic instability of the early 2020s, including inflation, supply chain disruptions, and persistent deindustrialization.

Consider, for instance, these remarks of Harding in 1918 and the obvious parallels with Trump’s message today- that situates him resolutely in the tradition of American nationalist protectionism: “The theory of banished barriers is beautiful, the practice is destroying. American labor will never consent. We must have protection to hold us to what we are, and send us to greater eminence.”

A. Policies and Approach

Neo-Hardingism reflected the influence of the early 20th-century policies of President Warren G. Harding, who advocated for high tariffs, economic protectionism, and an America-first approach to industrial growth. In Trump’s second term, this ideology took form through several key policies:

• Increased Tariffs & Trade Wars – The administration expanded tariffs on Chinese goods, targeting industries such as technology, automobiles, and pharmaceuticals. While intended to bolster domestic industry, these measures led to retaliatory tariffs that increased consumer prices.

• Revival of the American Industrial Sector – Trump’s government introduced new tax incentives and subsidies to encourage domestic manufacturing. However, many of these policies disproportionately benefited large corporations rather than small businesses or workers.

• Reduced Immigration for Labor Protection – The administration implemented restrictive immigration policies under the pretext of protecting American jobs. While these measures appealed to the working-class base, they also led to labor shortages in key industries, particularly in agriculture and service sectors.

Through a Neo-Hardingite lens, Trump’s rise is also routinely viewed as a backlash against the globalisation of the current economic order. He will oversee a regime committed to an active policy of de facto de-globalisation, even including a renegotiating of the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) on ‘America First’ terms. 

B. Key Figures in the Neo-Hardingite Faction

Several prominent figures within Trump’s inner circle championed this economic nationalist agenda:

• Peter Navarro (Economic Advisor) – Navarro remained one of the most vocal advocates for protectionist policies and a more aggressive stance against China.

• J.D. Vance (Senator and Political Ally) – Vance supported economic nationalism while simultaneously critiquing Wall Street’s role in economic inequality.

• Josh Hawley (Senator and Conservative Firebrand) – Although an advocate for trade protectionism, Hawley also increasingly aligned with cultural conservatism, diluting his economic focus.

Despite these efforts, Neo-Hardingism ultimately failed to challenge corporate monopolies. Instead, it functioned more as a pro-corporate industrial policy rather than a worker-centered economic revival.

The Resurgence of Neo-Reaganism: Corporate Power Under a Populist Mask

While the Neo-Hardingites pushed for economic nationalism, another faction within Trump’s administration sought to maintain the economic orthodoxy of free-market fundamentalism. This faction, labeled Neo-Reaganism, blended Trump’s populist rhetoric with corporate-friendly policies that aligned with the traditional Republican establishment.

           A. The Economic and Foreign Policy Approach

The Neo-Reaganite approach prioritized policies that benefited corporate interests while using cultural populism to maintain support from the MAGA base:

• Tax Cuts for Businesses – The administration’s second-term tax policies mirrored Reagan-era supply-side economics, disproportionately benefiting corporations and high-income earners over workers.

• Global Military Engagements Under Economic Justifications – While Trump’s first term included isolationist tendencies, his second term saw a shift toward military interventions framed as protecting American economic interests.

• Deregulation for Big Business – Environmental, labor, and financial regulations were rolled back under the banner of “freeing the economy,” further solidifying corporate power.

B. Key Figures in the Neo-Reaganite Faction 

This faction included established conservative figures who sought to maintain a pro-business agenda:

• Larry Kudlow (Economic Advisor) – A champion of corporate tax cuts and Wall Street-friendly policies.

• Nikki Haley (Secretary of State) – Advocated for strong U.S. global involvement under the guise of economic security.

• Mike Pence (Traditional Conservative Figurehead) – Maintained a corporate-friendly economic stance while aligning with MAGA’s cultural populism.

By co-opting MAGA’s populist energy, the Neo-Reaganites effectively preserved the same corporate economic structures that Trump initially campaigned against.

The Turn Toward Cultural Politics: MAGA Becomes Right-Wing Woke

By the midpoint of Trump’s second term, economic issues had been eclipsed by cultural battles. This shift marked the transformation of MAGA into a movement more focused on symbolic victories against “wokeness” rather than substantive economic change.

A. The Prioritization of Cultural Wars

Instead of addressing structural economic challenges, the MAGA movement became fixated on cultural grievances, including:

• Eliminating DEI (Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion) programs – State and federal efforts sought to remove DEI initiatives from corporations and universities.

• Battles against “woke” corporations – High-profile boycotts and legal challenges targeted companies perceived as too progressive.

• State-level education reforms – Laws restricting progressive education policies emphasized nationalism and patriotism in school curricula.

            B. The Rise of Right-Wing Wokeism

MAGA’s cultural turn mirrored the left’s identity politics, prioritizing symbolic victories over material change:

• Social media culture wars – MAGA figures spent increasing amounts of time engaging in online battles with progressive activists.

• Legislation targeting cultural issues rather than economic concerns – Many new laws focused on banning progressive policies rather than addressing systemic economic problems.

• Outrage politics as a mobilization tool – MAGA leaders used perpetual grievance narratives to maintain political momentum.

C. Key Figures in the Cultural Pivot

• Tucker Carlson (Media Firebrand) – Repositioned MAGA as a cultural, anti-elitist movement rather than an economic one.

• Ron DeSantis (Governor & Conservative Hardliner) – Led efforts to push back against “woke” corporations and progressive education policies.

• Elon Musk (Tech Billionaire & MAGA Ally) – Used his platform to challenge left-wing progressivism while benefiting from MAGA’s deregulation policies.

Conclusion: MAGA at a Crossroads?

By the end of Trump’s second term, the MAGA movement had fractured into competing factions with distinct priorities:

• Neo-Hardingism failed to produce meaningful worker-focused reforms, despite its economic nationalist rhetoric.
• Neo-Reaganism successfully co-opted MAGA’s populist energy to sustain corporate economic power.
• Cultural politics overtook economic grievances, transforming MAGA into a reactionary movement centered on identity politics.

Without a coherent economic direction, MAGA risks becoming a purely symbolic movement—one that is loud in rhetoric but ineffective in governance. The key question for the future of the American right remains:

Will MAGA return to its economic nationalist roots, or will it remain a cultural reactionary force, fighting symbolic battles while leaving economic power structures untouched? 

"COUNT ON US"

"COUNT ON US"

English version of “Računajte na nas” by Đorđe Balašević
By Kat Ulrike



We’re not born in the 60s, 70s, nor 80s,
But their voices still echo and teach us what’s right.
They told us of battles, of loss and of glory,
A torch we must carry through the night.

For life lies ahead with its trials and its fears,
And shadows still fall like the waves of the sea.
But through every struggle, through doubt and through tears,
Their strength lives in you and in me.
- So you can count on us

Chorus
For the world thinks we’ve forgotten or we’ve lost our way,
Dancing through the darkness, and chasing the lights.
But deep in our hearts hopes are burning like flames,
A passion that guides us to the fight.
- And you can count on us.

Our voices will rise in the face of despair,
United by dreams that the future can bring.
No chains can contain us, no fear can divide,
Together, we’ll stand and we’ll fighting.

Through rivers of doubt and the mountains of pain,
We’ll carry the hope that they passed in their name.
The blood of the fighters still runs in our veins,
And we’ll keep the promise the same:
- That you can count on us.

Chorus 

From News Providing to Content Marketing - an Erosion of Journalism as a Craft?

From News Providing to Content Marketing
- an Erosion of Journalism as a Craft?


The digital age has fundamentally reshaped how information is consumed and valued, and in the process, it has brought with it a troubling decline in the trustworthiness and integrity of journalism. Once revered as the cornerstone of democracy and accountability, journalism now finds itself competing in a chaotic information ecosystem where truth often takes a backseat to engagement metrics and emotional resonance. The proliferation of fake news and half-truths has transformed many supposed news providers into mere content creators, pandering to an audience that increasingly prioritizes confirmation over truth.

The Decline of Credible Journalism in the Digital Age

The transition from traditional print media to digital and, more recently, to social media platforms has ushered in a new era of information dissemination. On one hand, the ability to access news instantly from anywhere in the world is a triumph of technology. On the other hand, the speed and accessibility of digital platforms have made it alarmingly easy for falsehoods to gain traction. In this race for immediacy, the traditional journalistic values of accuracy, verification, and depth have been cast aside in favor of producing content that grabs attention.

This decline is compounded by the rise of algorithms that reward sensational, emotionally charged, or divisive content over thoughtful, investigative journalism. The economics of modern media prioritize clicks and shares, leading outlets to pursue stories that cater to trends, outrage, and entertainment rather than serving the public interest.

The Role of Backers and Agendas

A darker side of this evolution is the growing influence of hidden backers and vested interests in shaping narratives. Many seemingly independent news outlets are supported by political entities, corporate sponsors, or ideological movements that use them as vehicles for propaganda. These backers often promote fake news or biased narratives, not to inform or educate, but to sway public opinion, reinforce political agendas, or drive specific outcomes.

This transformation turns journalism into a tool of manipulation rather than enlightenment. In many cases, the public is unaware of these hidden influences, leaving them vulnerable to misinformation and disinformation campaigns. The end result is a widespread erosion of trust in media institutions, with genuine journalists and credible outlets often swept up in the backlash against those who have compromised the integrity of the craft.

The Justification of Falsehoods as Copium

Interestingly, the proliferation of fake news and half-truths has become justifiable to some audiences—not because it is right, but because it serves as a form of copium. For many, consuming narratives that align with their beliefs, no matter how false, provides comfort in a world where the truth often feels inconvenient or even threatening.

In this sense, fake news becomes more than just misinformation—it becomes a coping mechanism. A narrative closer to one’s worldview, even if it is demonstrably false, can feel far more palatable than facing a reality that challenges deeply held beliefs. This phenomenon is especially evident in polarized political climates, where opposing sides cling to their preferred version of events, facts be damned.

For instance, a person who feels disenfranchised or marginalized by the truth might gravitate toward a false narrative that paints them as the victim or positions their side as the hero. The narrative, no matter how contrived, offers validation and emotional solace. Over time, this creates echo chambers where individuals reinforce one another’s biases, further deepening divisions and mistrust.

The Role of Social Media Platforms

Social media platforms play a critical role in this cycle. These platforms are designed to maximize user engagement, often by feeding users content that aligns with their preferences and beliefs. In doing so, they create an environment where misinformation thrives, as users are continually exposed to content that reinforces their biases. 

This feedback loop is not accidental—it is a direct result of algorithms designed to prioritize engagement over accuracy. The more a piece of content resonates emotionally, the more likely it is to be shared, regardless of its factual validity. In this way, social media platforms become enablers of fake news, amplifying its reach and impact.

Consequences for Society and Journalism

The consequences of this shift are far-reaching. Journalism, once tasked with holding power to account and informing the public, has been relegated to the status of "content-making." This not only diminishes the value of credible reporting but also undermines society’s ability to make informed decisions.

When truth becomes secondary to narrative, the very fabric of democratic society is at risk. Public trust in institutions erodes, polarization deepens, and misinformation becomes a tool for division rather than enlightenment. The proliferation of fake news as copium exacerbates these challenges by encouraging individuals to retreat into their own realities, where the truth is whatever feels most comforting.

Toward a Solution

Despite these challenges, there is hope for the restoration of journalism’s integrity and purpose. Achieving this will require collective action from journalists, media organizations, social media platforms, and consumers:

1. For Journalists and Media Organizations:
    - Recommit to the core principles of journalism: accuracy, accountability, and investigative depth.
    - Diversify revenue streams to reduce reliance on click-driven advertising models.
    - Resist the temptation to chase sensationalism and prioritize stories that matter, even if they are less       "marketable."

2. For Social Media Platforms:
    - Take greater responsibility for curbing the spread of misinformation.
    - Adjust algorithms to reward credible, well-sourced reporting rather than engagement at all costs.
    - Promote media literacy initiatives to help users discern credible sources from unreliable ones.

3. For Consumers:
    - Support independent and credible outlets through subscriptions, donations, or advocacy.
    - Practice critical thinking and verify sources before sharing content.
    - Challenge misinformation in personal networks and encourage open, fact-based discussions.

4. For Educators and Institutions:
    - Prioritize media literacy as part of educational curriculums to equip future generations with the              skills to navigate the complex information landscape.

Conclusion

The proliferation of fake news and the transformation of journalism into mere content-making have profound implications for society. While the decline of print media and the rise of social media have made information faster and more accessible, they have also made it less trustworthy. For many, consuming fake news offers a comforting narrative that aligns with their worldview, even if it contradicts reality—a phenomenon that, while understandable, is deeply dangerous.

 Reversing this trend will require a recommitment to the principles of journalism, as well as a concerted effort to rebuild trust in credible reporting. Journalism’s ultimate mission is not just to deliver information, but to deliver the truth—even when it is inconvenient or uncomfortable. The future of informed society depends on our ability to distinguish between the two.   

"Through the Crosswinds"

"Through the Crosswinds"

Composer: from the song "Rruga e Marshallit"
by Tomor Berisha, Vinçenc Gjini
Lyrics by: Paul Smirnoff

Through the crosswinds, through the dark,
I was guided by your spark,
Shining bright, you lit my way.
Clear the skies, oh, let me stay,
In the warmth of your embrace,
Where my heart has found its place.
Every dream of you takes flight,
Like a starburst in the night.

Chorus:
𝄆 What we’ve built will never falter,
Though the storms may rage and roar.
Every moment draws me closer,
Forever yours, forever more. 𝄇

Through the winds, I hear your song,
Pulling me where I belong,
Every step brings you to me.
Like the waves that meet the sea,
Every whisper, every sigh,
Draws me closer, by and by.
In your light, my heart’s alive,
With your love, I will survive.

Chorus:
𝄆 What we’ve built will never falter,
Though the storms may rage and roar.
Every moment draws me closer,
Forever yours, forever more. 𝄇