Israel and Hamas Peace Deal 2025 — “First Phase” or Just a Pause Before the Next Round

The Week That Shaped the World — 3–10 October 2025

The Israel Hamas Peace Deal 2025 — A Handshake or a Holding Pattern?

The Israel Hamas peace deal 2025 dared the world to use the word peace without irony for the first time in months.
It may look like a triumph of diplomacy — but for anyone watching Gaza’s skyline, it feels more like a fragile truce held together by exhaustion and politics.
Israel and Hamas signed the so-called first phase of a long-awaited deal — a rare moment when handshakes replaced headlines.
But as ever in the Middle East, one must ask: is it peace, or merely the intermission before the next act?

Elsewhere, the stage was no calmer. The UN quietly packed up a quarter of its peacekeepers, China dug deeper — literally — into its oil reserves, and Washington managed to turn diplomacy into an invoice.
Meanwhile, the IMF discovered a new language of exhaustion, calling uncertainty “the new normal,” while global markets pretended not to notice the cracks beneath their feet.

The world didn’t end this week. It simply rehearsed the next version of itself — more fragile, more transactional, and a little less sure of the script.

Stay with us. The headlines shout, but the silences in between are where the real story hides.

1. Israel and Hamas Sign the “First Phase” of Peace — Or a Pause Before the Next Round

It was billed as historic. The first tangible progress in Gaza after nearly a year of blood, rubble and endless rhetoric. Israel and Hamas signed what officials are calling the first phase of a long-term peace plan. The choreography was familiar — cautious handshakes, solemn statements, and cameras catching the half-smiles of men who still don’t trust each other.

The deal itself? Fragile at best. Israel promises to release 48 hostages within 72 hours. Hamas, in turn, claims it will free 20 Israelis alive, though no one seems sure which 20, or in what condition. A buffer zone has been agreed — lines on a map drawn as if paper can contain vengeance.

In Washington, Donald Trump (naturally) congratulated himself for “decisive leadership.” In Doha, mediators called it “a step in the right direction.” And in Jerusalem, one senior official was overheard muttering: “At least it’s a step that doesn’t involve rockets.”

And yet, even cynics hesitate to sneer. A ceasefire — any ceasefire — is a small miracle in this part of the world. For once, mothers might sleep without counting seconds between explosions, and markets might rise on hope instead of grief.

But peace in Israel has a cruel habit of attracting its own assassins. The name Yigal Amir still haunts the word “progress.” The man who shot Yitzhak Rabin did more than end a life — he froze a generation’s faith in reconciliation. The ink on today’s peace plan may dry, but the ghosts of that night never have.

So yes, it’s a positive step — a sliver of light after a year of smoke. But if history insists on repeating itself, we should pray it skips the part where peace is punished.

“In the Middle East, peace talks are like theatre rehearsals. The actors change, the stage burns, and somehow the show goes on — until someone shoots the director.”

2. Europe’s 170 Billion Gamble — The End of Legal Sanctuaries

So, the European Union has finally done what it spent two years promising it wouldn’t: it’s taking the money.
Roughly €170 billion in frozen Russian assets will now be redirected to fund Ukraine’s defence and reconstruction. Officials in Brussels call it a “moral imperative.” Moscow calls it theft.
And, for once, both sides may be right.

Legally, it’s a tightrope walk across a minefield. The EU insists it’s not confiscation but utilisation — a bureaucratic distinction elegant enough to make a lawyer blush. Yet the symbolism is unmistakable: Europe, the world’s self-proclaimed champion of property rights, has just rewritten its own rulebook.

Moscow wasted no time responding. The Kremlin announced that if European funds start flowing to Kyiv, it will seize Western corporate assets inside Russia — an estimated €200 billion worth of factories, offices and real estate. A geopolitical tit-for-tat, yes, but one with a sting that reaches far beyond Moscow or Brussels.

Here in the editorial room, we see something larger taking shape — a precedent. Once the sanctity of ownership is compromised for political convenience, it never quite heals. Investors from the Gulf, from Asia, from Latin America are watching this spectacle unfold and asking the only question that matters: If they can take Russian money today, whose tomorrow?

Europe may win the moral argument, but it risks losing something rarer — trust. The quiet confidence that made the continent a safe haven for global capital is evaporating, one sanction at a time.

“You can’t preach the rule of law while pawning the evidence,” as one London banker told us. “And now the vault doesn’t feel quite so safe.”

3. UN Cuts Peacekeeping Forces by 25% — Retreat Disguised as Reform

It was announced with the usual diplomatic varnish: “strategic rebalancing,” “optimising deployments,” “enhancing local partnerships.” The translation, however, is simpler — the United Nations is packing up early.

This week, the UN confirmed it will slash global peacekeeping forces by roughly 25%, withdrawing up to 14,000 personnel from hotspots including Congo, South Sudan, Lebanon, and Somalia. The official line is efficiency; the reality is insolvency.

Washington, the organisation’s largest donor, is cutting its contribution from around $1 billion to $680 million. Other contributors quietly followed suit. António Guterres still insists that peacekeeping remains “the most cost-effective tool for global stability.” Perhaps. But when half your troops are on their way home, cost-effective begins to sound like cost-cutting.

From the streets of Juba to the jungles of the DRC, communities that once relied on blue helmets are watching the convoys roll out. Local militias, predictably, see opportunity where the UN sees budget restraint. The phrase “conditions-based withdrawal” has never looked so literal.

In private, diplomats admit the uncomfortable truth: after decades of sprawling missions and modest results, enthusiasm for UN peacekeeping has evaporated. The era of global consensus — if it ever truly existed — has been replaced by regional improvisation. “Peacekeeping without peace,” as one African envoy put it, “is just camping with guns.”

The symbolism runs deeper. A world that cannot afford to maintain its peacekeepers is a world preparing to live without peace.

“When you run out of money, you stop dancing,” someone once said. “But you still call it a re-imagining of rhythm.”

4. China Expands Underground Oil Reserves — Hoarding Power in Barrels

If the world panics at oil prices, China simply digs deeper. Literally.

While Western governments wring their hands over climate targets and energy transition pledges, Beijing is busy building new underground reservoirs capable of storing up to 169 million additional barrels of crude by 2026. Thirty-seven million are already filled, like strategic time bombs waiting under the soil.

The official reason, of course, is “energy security.” The real one is leverage. Every barrel stored underground is another chip on the global poker table — one that allows Beijing to sit quietly while others sweat over OPEC cuts and shipping routes. When prices rise, China buys; when they fall, China fills. It’s not trading — it’s entrapment with an accountant’s precision.

State media paints the move as “prudent planning.” Western analysts call it “hoarding.” Both are correct. China’s leadership has long understood what Europe only remembers when winter arrives: energy isn’t a commodity, it’s a weapon — and weapons are best stockpiled before the shooting starts.

The symbolism is unmistakable. These cavernous reserves aren’t just about oil — they’re a monument to a worldview where preparation replaces trust. And while Washington obsesses over TikTok bans and semiconductor chips, Beijing is quietly fortifying the lifeblood of industry itself.

One diplomat in Geneva put it bluntly: “They’re not preparing for peace. They’re preparing for the price of it.”

“In the West, we debate emissions. In China, they store them — just in case diplomacy runs out of fuel.”

5. South Korea Rejects US Demand for $350 Billion — When Allies Start Sending Invoices

It sounded like satire, but it wasn’t. Washington reportedly demanded that South Korea pay $350 billion upfront as part of a “tariff adjustment package” — a polite euphemism for extortion in a pinstripe suit. Seoul’s response was immediate and refreshingly blunt: “Impossible.”

The proposal, floated during trade talks last week, was meant to “rebalance contributions” under the ongoing tariff renegotiations. In plain English: America wanted cash on the table before offering a discount on its own economic protectionism. The deal would have reduced tariffs on Korean exports from 25 % to 15 %, but only if Seoul prepaid — as if the global economy had turned into a timeshare scheme.

The backlash in Korea was swift. Economists called it “financial blackmail,” opposition leaders accused Washington of “treating allies like tenants,” and one Seoul newspaper ran the headline: “The Landlord Calls Again.”

It’s hard not to admire the audacity. The United States, once the guarantor of open markets, now behaves like a credit collector with a world map. Friendship, it seems, now comes with a service charge.

What this moment really exposes is a shift in tone — not just in trade, but in trust. Once upon a time, America offered leadership. Now it offers invoices. And for countries that built their growth on exporting to the U.S., refusal is a luxury they can barely afford — but this time, Seoul dared.

As one Korean diplomat dryly observed over lunch: “When the bridge toll keeps rising, even allies start looking for another river.”

“Washington used to sell ideals. Now it sells receipts — and expects change back.”

6. The Great AI Bubble — When Hype Starts to Think for Itself

The Bank of England and the IMF rarely agree on tone. One prefers understatement, the other prefers panic in PDF format. Yet this week, both struck the same note — concern. Not about war, or inflation, or climate, but about artificial intelligence — specifically, the size of the bubble inflating beneath it.

The numbers tell the story. AI stocks have risen by over 80 % since January, venture capital is burning cash like incense, and start-ups with no revenue are now valued in the billions. Economists warn that the pattern feels eerily familiar: overconfidence, concentration, and complete disregard for gravity.

Oxford’s Adam Slater described it perfectly: “We’re living through optimism without income.” Microsoft and Nvidia are posting record valuations, while OpenAI, the supposed crown jewel, remains unprofitable — proof that intelligence may be artificial, but losses are painfully real.

Still, politicians beam and CEOs smile, convinced that we’re witnessing the dawn of the next industrial revolution. The truth may be less poetic. What we’re really seeing is the oldest trick in the financial playbook — a gold rush dressed as innovation. Every boom needs its mythology, and AI’s is irresistible: machines that think, profits that don’t end, and human investors who believe both.

Of course, this could continue for months, even years. Bubbles, after all, are social contracts built on denial. And when it bursts, there’ll be a thousand analysts explaining why it was “healthy correction” rather than collective delusion.

“We keep saying AI will replace us. Perhaps it already has — at least when it comes to irrational exuberance.”

7. “Uncertainty Is the New Normal” — The IMF Admits It’s as Lost as the Rest of Us

When the International Monetary Fund begins speaking like a therapist, you know the situation has gone off-script. This week, Kristalina Georgieva stood before the world’s ministers and quietly declared that “uncertainty is the new normal.”

It wasn’t so much an economic forecast as a confession. Growth is still crawling along at roughly 3 percent, but it feels more like a patient on life support than a recovery. Inflation cools in one region, flares in another. Markets twitch, currencies stumble, and no one is entirely sure which way the wind is blowing — or whether there’s still a compass to trust.

Georgieva, to her credit, tried to sound constructive. The United States should rein in its deficit. China should rely less on exports. Europe should, somehow, start behaving like a single continent again. The advice was sound, but it hung in the air like an old sermon — honest, ignored, and immediately forgotten.

What struck me most wasn’t the content, but the tone. The IMF — that traditional voice of stern optimism — finally sounded tired. Not panicked. Just tired. As if the world’s financial architects have realised that we’re no longer between crises but living inside one, endlessly extended and self-renewing.

In London, traders have stopped pretending to seek clarity. “Volatility is the product now,” one told me. “We don’t need stability — we just need something to move.”

And so we keep moving, half in faith, half in habit. The numbers flicker, the headlines recycle, and somewhere in Marrakesh, the IMF writes another speech about resilience.

“When uncertainty becomes routine, it stops being a problem — it becomes policy.”

8. Global Growth Rebounds — Fragile but Real

You can almost hear the sigh of relief.
After months of bad forecasts and worse moods, the world economy twitched — a small, awkward movement, but movement all the same.

S&P Global called it a rebound. Most people would call it luck. Tech firms are dragging the numbers upward, financial services are pretending to lead, and somewhere in between, a few factories have started breathing again. It’s not a boom. It’s just the sound of the engine catching after a long winter.

Europe looks steadier, though that may just be the painkillers talking. The U.S. keeps whistling past its deficit, while Asia builds quietly, without speeches or hashtags. Growth feels less like strategy now and more like instinct — people trying to get by, businesses refusing to die, systems held together with tape and caffeine.

In London, ministers talk about “resilience.” It’s their new favourite word — polished, empty, safe. What they mean is: we’re still standing, somehow. The City’s traders don’t care why; as long as the graphs point up, no one asks if the floor’s tilting.

Still, there’s something tender about this strange recovery. It doesn’t promise anything. It just exists — cautious, bruised, alive.

“Maybe growth isn’t coming back. Maybe it never left — it just learned to limp.”

9. The Debt Trap Tightens — When Promises Outlive the Lenders

The phrase “emerging markets” once meant hope. Now it mostly means debt.

According to the IMF’s latest review, more than thirty developing nations are on the brink of default. Not because they are reckless, but because the rules changed while they were still learning to play. Rising interest rates, a strong dollar, and falling investment have combined into the same slow suffocation we’ve seen before — polite, procedural, devastating.

You can see it in the headlines if you know how to read between them. Ghana restructuring, Egypt begging, Pakistan bargaining. Each story framed as “reform,” each one really a survival note. The lenders smile, the borrowers nod, and the money never quite reaches the people it was borrowed for.

What’s worse is how numb the world has become to it. Debt used to be a scandal; now it’s a weather report. Investors shrug, knowing the losses will be repackaged, resold, insured. Every crisis creates its own derivatives.

One finance minister from Latin America said it perfectly, though not for the record: “We don’t borrow to build anymore. We borrow to breathe.”

And somewhere in Washington and London, men in suits will write essays about “structural adjustment” — the polite language of economic euthanasia.

Because when an emerging market collapses, it doesn’t fall alone. It drags with it the fragile threads of trade, confidence, and memory that still tie the world together.

“Debt is the world’s oldest addiction — and we still call it development.”

10. The Quiet Revolution — Fintech’s Most Boring Week That Changed Everything

No fireworks. No billion-dollar acquisitions. No shiny product launches. Just another quiet week in fintech — which, of course, is exactly how revolutions start.

While the world was busy arguing about geopolitics and AI, the financial plumbing of the global economy shifted a few inches — and few noticed. Swift tested a real-time cross-border settlement layer that could finally end the three-day limbo of international transfers. Nubank, Latin America’s favourite underdog, quietly became the region’s biggest digital bank by volume, adding more new customers in September than most legacy banks added all year.

Meanwhile, Jack Henry and Galileo rolled out new APIs to knit small banks into the global payment web — a move that makes them invisible and indispensable at the same time. And First Merchants merged with First Savings, creating another mid-tier American lender big enough to matter but small enough to dodge regulation.

Individually, none of this sounds dramatic. Collectively, it’s seismic. The world’s financial bloodstream is being rewired not in press conferences but in server rooms. The new players aren’t minting cryptocurrencies or staging moonshots; they’re making the infrastructure faster, quieter, and more obedient.

For the average investor, that’s the paradox: the duller it looks, the bigger the implications. Because when payments stop being news, it means money has finally learned to move at the speed of information — and that changes everything.

“Revolutions don’t always roar,” I wrote once. “Sometimes they hum in the background until you realise the old system’s already obsolete.”