US and Iran closing in on ‘one-page memo’ to end war, sources say



In his address, Party General Secretary and State President To Lam stressed that over thousands of years of formation and development, history and culture have served as strong bonds linking Vietnam and India. Though geographically distant, the two countries have been connected since early times. Indian religious, philosophical and civilisational values spread through maritime trade routes and became deeply embedded in Vietnam’s cultural and spiritual life.

On the strictly protected island of Golem Grad in North Macedonia, the tortoises are destroying their own population. During prolonged courtship, aggressive males are exhausting the females and frequently pushing them off the cliffs. Consequently, there are now one hundred males for every female capable of laying eggs. This is the only known example of demographic suicide in the wild to date.
Under favourable, stable and protected environments, large animal populations have no reason to die out. This should not happen unless a catastrophe, such as a devastating fire or the destruction of their habitat, or over-exploitation, wipes out all individuals or weakens the population, making it vulnerable to disease and other disturbances and hazards.
Well sheltered by the steep cliffs that line the island of Golem Grad on Lake Prespa in North Macedonia, Hermann’s tortoises (Testudo hermanni boettgeri) thrive on the wooded plateau.
After basking in the morning sun, they graze in the meadows, rest, and court, with the males emitting high-pitched sounds during mating. At first glance, nothing seems to threaten this population.
As is the case with other long-living species, maintaining populations requires high survival rates among adults. On Golem Grad, the adults have no predators, as wild boars, dogs, rats and humans are absent from this strictly protected island. The mild Mediterranean climate of this lake, situated at an altitude of 850 metres, is also favourable for reptiles.
All these factors explain the extraordinary population density, which stands at around 50 individuals per hectare – the highest ever recorded for tortoises. The ease with which these tortoises can be observed and studied led to the establishment of the field-monitoring programme in 2008. This was the result of a fruitful scientific collaboration between North Macedonia, Serbia and France, and this long-term monitoring programme was awarded the CNRS’s SEE-Life label in 2023.
But appearances can be deceiving: this population is in a critical state.
The extensive demographic, behavioural, physiological and experimental data collected over nearly 20 years show that, although highly active sexually and reproductively, this population is effectively committing suicide!
Demographic suicide is a strange and counter-intuitive theoretical process. The conditions under which it may arise are quite specific. For a given species, one must imagine a high-density population in which violent sexual behaviour is so prevalent that it threatens the survival of females. This would gradually lead to an imbalance in the sex ratio (the proportion of males and females in a population), in this case an excess of males. This would put increasing pressure on females, who would become fewer in number and more harassed as a result. This would eventually create a vicious circle that leads to the disappearance of females and, ultimately, the extinction of the population.
Coercive and violent mating behaviours are fairly common in nature. Typically, males harass females until they mate, sometimes injuring them in the process. In some cases, such behaviour can result in the death of the female, as has been observed in elephant seals (where the males are considerably stronger than the females), as well as in wild sheep, grey squirrels, otters, deer, toads, fruit flies, humans… However, such fatal outcomes do not benefit the males, as they will have no offspring if the females die during mating. Therefore, such excessively violent behaviours are maladaptive and remain marginal.
Furthermore, in wild populations, various regulatory mechanisms prevent this type of vicious circle, or extinction vortex, from emerging. Females can employ a wide range of avoidance and defence strategies. For example, they can hide, seek the protection of a dominant male, or form alliances. Excessively violent males generally produce fewer offspring than those who spare the females, meaning their behavioural traits are less likely to persist over time. Furthermore, when males become overcrowded, they tend to emigrate in search of better mating opportunities, thereby reducing the pressure on females. Thus, conflicts between the sexes in coercive mating systems are resolved through effective equilibria, without a harmful escalation for either sex.
However, rare experiments conducted on animals studied in captivity have shown that males can have a strong negative impact on populations when the sex ratio and population density are artificially skewed in favour of males. For example, in a species of Japanese shrimp, an excess of males reduces female fertility and mating opportunities. In the common lizard, an excess of males leads to increased aggression, reducing both the fertility and survival of females. This theory has thus received partial confirmation through experimentation.
Information on the sexual behaviour of terrestrial tortoises, alongside a comparison with a control population, would be useful for understanding the situation in Golem Grad. The mating system of tortoises is coercive: males chase females, bump into them (like bumper cars) and sometimes bite them until they bleed and, in the case of Eastern Hermann’s tortoises, press on the females’ cloaca with their sharp tail spurs until they yield.
Hermann’s tortoises are still abundant in North Macedonia. We were therefore able to study another dense population located on the shores of the lake, just 4 kilometres from the island. Genetically very similar to the Golem Grad population, this population lives in a protected environment without cliffs. The females are large and heavy, with many weighing between 2.5 and 2.9 kg, and highly fertile, as shown by X-rays. They are slightly more numerous than the males and larger than them, and they effectively resist their intermittent sexual assaults. No demographic problems have been detected; population forecasts suggest an increase in numbers.
However, the situation at Golem Grad is quite different. On the plateau, over 700 adult males roam around looking for the forty or so adult females.
Furthermore, if physiological and environmental conditions are unfavourable, a Hermann’s tortoise may fail to lay eggs after mating. For example, if they are too thin or stressed, they are unable to build up reserves in the ovarian follicles and the eggs do not develop. In reality, therefore, there are more than 100 males for every female capable of laying eggs. However, our analysis of neonate and juvenile cohorts shows that the sex ratio is balanced at birth and during the first years of life, becoming imbalanced later on.
The surplus males often act in groups of three to eight. They harass the females all day long and injure them. They then lay down beside the females in the evening, ready to start again the next day. The females have little respite and do not have enough time to feed. They are thin, very few exceed 1.6 kg, with a maximum of 1.75 kg and when they lay eggs, they produce half as many as those in the control population.
Unable to escape, the females are regularly driven to the cliff edges, where the obstinate and clumsy males sometimes push them over. On July 18 2023, a GPS device fitted with an accelerometer, attached to a female, recorded her fall of over 20 metres; she died, broken in two, along with her three eggs.
Since the start of the study, we have identified almost all the turtles that have been found dead in the field, where their shells remain intact for a long time. Of the females that died, 22% suffered a fatal fall, compared to 7% of the males.
In collaboration with British colleagues, we have also developed an epigenetic clock to estimate the age of individuals from a blood sample.
The oldest males are over 60 years old and the oldest female is 35. These results are consistent with morphological, growth, and demographic analyses. The survival rate is abnormally low among females, due to male aggression.
Over time, the decline in the number of adult females, coupled with a drop in their fertility, slows down the renewal of the population, both relatively (the proportion of females) and absolutely (the total number of females). In 2009, we captured 45 adult females in the field, compared to 37 in 2010, 20 in 2024, and just 15 in 2025.
However, it takes a female around fifteen years to reach adulthood. Frustrated by the lack of sexual partners, males mate with other males, carcasses, stones, and immature females. Through this latter behaviour, they prematurely compromise the survival of females and exacerbate their demographic problem.
Population dynamics can be modelled by incorporating the above parameters and others. It is also possible to make predictions. The last female could die in 2083. The males, now deprived of females, will survive for decades, as these tortoises can live for over eighty years and will eventually die out. This is a prediction; perhaps the population, which is currently on the brink of extinction, will recover, even if we cannot see how. While the tortoises’ very slow pace of life has given us the opportunity to observe an extinction vortex in the wild and test a strange theory, intensive field monitoring has provided us with the data and inspiration above all else.
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Xavier Bonnet has benefited from funding from SEE-Life CNRS.
Generative AI has become a part of everyday student life in Canada. While institutions focus on misconduct and detection, a deeper shift is happening, one that concerns identity.
A recent KPMG Canada report finds that 73 per cent of students use generative AI for schoolwork, and nearly half say it is their “first instinct.” Also significant is the finding that many students also report feeling uneasy, worried that their use may be seen as cheating.
The study is based on a survey of 684 university, college, vocational and high school students within a larger sample of 3,804 Canadians (aged 18+), on how people are adopting generative AI.
In my doctoral research on STEM education in Ontario colleges, I’m exploring how AI is transforming not only how students write but also how they perceive voice, legitimacy and what it means to be themselves.
Academic policies can define what constitutes cheating, but they do not address a more subtle concern: if AI helped write my assignment, will I still be seen as capable, and will my work represent me?
Read more: What are the key purposes of human writing? How we name AI-generated text confuses things
Writing is more than a technical skill. It is one of the primary ways students structure and elaborate ideas, demonstrate competence and position themselves as emerging professionals.
This is particularly significant in STEM, where programs are often closely linked to specific career paths. Students are expected to begin positioning themselves as future professionals through how they communicate and present knowledge.
At the same time, STEM fields are often seen as primarily technical or data-driven, with writing treated as secondary. Yet research shows that communication is central to scientific practice, shaping how knowledge is constructed, interpreted and shared.
Even beyond this, when science students write assignments, they also undertake what social and cultural theorists describe as “identity work.”
Through writing, students build narratives that let them explore how they might belong in particular worlds or professional fields. In my research, I examine how STEM programs operate as cultural worlds with implicit rules about what counts as smart, credible and legitimate participation.
Students interpret rules and adjust how they portray themselves in their work. This identity work is shaped by prior experiences, confidence with disciplinary language and alignment between personal interests and the STEM career paths they see as being available to them. AI is now part of that process.
In my research, I have observed college STEM classes, taken field notes and spoken with a cohort of students multiple times over a two year period about their work.
I often hear a version of the same concern: the AI-generated draft is technically strong, but “it does not sound like me.” This concern reflects the insight that “voice” or “sound” in writing is a signal of legitimacy.
In my collaborative work on cultivating student agency, I use the idea of “becoming alive within science education” to describe moments when students can bring more of themselves — their perspectives, ways of thinking and experiences — into how they learn and express ideas.
Yet institutions often favour more standardized forms of writing. AI can intensify this by making a fluent, generic style instantly available. For some students, this lowers barriers and supports access. For others, it feels like self-erasure.
One student put it this way:
“It’s better writing, yeah, it sounds good and helps get a better grade. But it’s kinda generic. Like anyone could’ve written it, not just me.”
This recurring pattern in the data points to a broader tension: phrasing, structure and tone in writing carry traces of identity, traces AI can smooth or erase.
Many of us have likely noticed that AI tools can improve the quality and efficiency of writing and may also lead to more uniform outputs, reducing variation in how ideas are expressed. These concerns are echoed in education guidance.
Read more: Slanguage: Why AI’s stylistic negation — ‘it’s not X, it’s Y’ — is both annoying and doesn’t work
UNESCO warns that AI systems can shape how knowledge is produced and expressed, raising questions about human agency and originality. Canadian policy discussions similarly highlight both the opportunities and risks of AI for student learning and authorship.
Taken together, these insights suggest how beyond only assisting human writing, AI shapes how voice is expressed and how we think about ourselves.
Canadian post-secondary institutions are still determining their approach to AI.
Many policies aim to balance flexibility with oversight, allowing limited AI use while emphasizing disclosure and addressing risks such as fabricated citations, bias and privacy issues.
Yet institutions also acknowledge challenges in enforcement.
As policies evolve, uncertainty remains. Students must navigate what is permitted, what constitutes their work and whether it truly reflects who they are.
In Canada, participation in STEM fields remains uneven across gender and other social dimensions such as race, Indigenous identity, socioeconomic status and immigrant background.
Many students already question whether they belong, making recognition deeply consequential.
If AI-generated writing becomes the implicit standard for “good work,” students may begin to locate competence in the tool rather than in themselves.
Students who rely on AI may question the authenticity of their success, while those who avoid it may feel at a disadvantage.
Rethinking learning design is important. Students should not have to guess what is acceptable. Assessments should focus on process that makes students’ thinking visible, not just product.
Significantly, writing in one’s own voice must be treated as a skill worth developing.
Read more: ChatGPT is in classrooms. How should educators now assess student learning?
In practice, this can be as simple as asking students to explain how they used AI in an assignment, or compare an AI-generated paragraph with their own and discuss what changed in tone, clarity and reasoning.
Instructors might also ask students to revise AI-polished text so it reflects their own thinking, or to identify where their interpretation and uncertainty matter. These and other small shifts help foreground not only what students produce but also how they think and position themselves in their work.
AI is here to stay. The question is whether STEM classrooms will help students use these tools without losing their voice, their agency and their sense of belonging.
Nurul Hassan Mohammad does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Operation Epic Fury is over. Or at least, that’s what the US secretary of state, Marco Rubio, announced on May 5, describing any further US action in the Gulf as purely “defensive”.
Rubio’s insistence that the conflict the US and Israel launched on February 28 achieved its objectives is open for debate. But this change of tone and terminology is likely to reflect arguments that raged in the US Congress as the war approached the two-month mark at the end of April, about whether the Trump administration must seek congressional approval for the conflict as required by US law.
The conflict has become the latest episode in a long struggle between the US Congress and the presidency over which branch of government can legitimately start wars. And, in a surprising way, Donald Trump’s actions seem to be pushing power back towards Congress.
The US constitution splits war powers between the presidency and Congress. It gives Congress the power to raise armies and declare war but makes the president the commander-in-chief of the military. That means that, in theory, you need to get Congress to agree to fund and start a war and the president to agree to wage it.
Since the second world war, this system has been changing. The last time the US formally declared war was in 1942 against Bulgaria, Hungary and Romania – having already declared war on Japan and Germany in December 1941. Since then, presidents have often plunged the country into hostilities on their own authority without getting a declaration of war from Congress.
Congress still needs to fund the military – but, with very few exceptions, the legislature has always done so. Individual members of Congress have generally been happy to let presidents take on the blame for starting wars. After conflicts have started, legislators have been unwilling to cut off funds for the troops in the field. As a result, Congress has given up much of its influence over decisions of war and peace.
But not entirely. The high point of Congressional pushback was in 1973, during the tail end of the Vietnam war, which by then had become extremely unpopular. In this context, Congress challenged the executive branch by passing the 1973 War Powers Resolution (also known as the War Powers Act). It’s this law that is shaping the debate over Iran today.
The War Powers Resolution basically repeats what the constitution says: that Congress has to start wars, but it allows for some flexibility. If there is a surprise attack on US forces, the president can act to repel that attack for 60 days before getting a declaration of war from Congress.
As reasonable as this may sound, every administration since the War Powers Resolution was passed has questioned its constitutionality and refused to be bound by it.
To be sure, some presidents have asked Congress for a statement of political support before launching a major war, as they also had done before the War Powers Resolution was passed. For instance, George H.W. Bush did so before the Gulf war of 1990-91. But when doing so, presidents have generally maintained that they did so purely to ensure national unity, and not because the War Powers Resolution required it of them.
Presidents have also launched many interventions in which they ignored the resolution entirely – as Bush himself did in Panama in 1989.
As a result, the resolution has never acted as a meaningful constraint on presidential war-making power. But things may be changing. The war in Iran is so unpopular that Congress asserting its authority over war powers more strongly than any time since the War Powers Resolution was passed. In the process, it is turning the resolution into something that might meaningfully affect the course of the war.
One reason for this is that even Trump’s Republican supporters in Congress are aware of how unpopular this war is. Many are worried about losing their seats in the midterms later this year. As a result, Congress is stirring. Even senior Republican figures are treating the War Powers Resolution and its 60-day clock as an important constraint on the administration and demanding that the war stop or be authorised by Congress after it passes that mark.
In response to this political pressure, the Trump administration seems to be paying more attention to the requirements of the War Powers Resolution than most administrations before it.
The White House is too afraid of Republican opposition to ignore the resolution entirely, particularly when it knows that it may soon have to ask Congress for more funding for the war. Even the argument it made that the 60-day clock has paused during the ceasefire is an indication that it sees the clock as a legitimate thing in the first place.
If the war starts up again, Republicans will clamour for the administration to come to Congress for a declaration. This would probably trigger a major debate over the conditions that Congress wants to attach regarding strategy, goals and funding.
What this shows is that many of the checks and balances of the constitution only work when there is the political will to make them work.
Andrew Gawthorpe is affiliated with the Foreign Policy Centre in London.
SARABURI A 42-year-old Thai woman has been arrested after she allegedly drove her car into her common-law husband’s motorcycle on Phahon Yothin Road in Muang district on Wednesday (May 6th, 2026), causing his death at the scene, before getting out and stamping on his face, police said. The incident occurred around kilometre 102 on the […]
Saraburi Woman, 42, Deliberately Rams Car into Common-Law Husband on Phahon Yothin Road, Then Stomps on His Face, Killing Him
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SINGAPORE: On social media, a theatre-goer voiced his disappointment with the ticketing platform SISTIC, accusing it of providing misleading seating information as they were buying their tickets, resulting in them having obstructed views during a performance of Les Misérables in Singapore.
The netizen posted his concerns on Facebook, declaring that he purchased four tickets for his family, costing $138 each for seats on the back row of the second level of the theatre. The complainant emphasised that their experience was ‘severely dampened’ by a major issue: The projector screen, which was essential for viewing actors’ expressions and key details during the play, was almost entirely blocked.
“We could only see the bottom half of the screen; the top half was completely obscured due to the height of where we were seated… For a production like Les Misérables, the projector screen is crucial for seeing the actors’ expressions and the finer details of the performance. Missing that meant missing the heart of the show.”
Furthermore, the netizen admitted there is a lack of transparency from the ticketing website.
“There was absolutely no warning on the SISTIC website during the booking process that these were ‘Restricted View’ seats. Had this been disclosed, I would never have chosen these seats for my family. We feel completely let down and, frankly, scammed by the lack of disclosure,” the netizen further added.
In the comments, other people also admitted that they had the same issue. One shared: “Indeed, very true. Just to make more $$ and lack honest disclosure.”
Moving forward, the netizen hoped that SISTIC and the venue management would take his feedback very seriously, claiming that “paying full price for a half-view is unacceptable.”
There has been no public response from SISTIC or Sands Theatre at the time of writing. It is unclear if the seats were labelled as restricted view during the booking process, raising questions about how such limitations are communicated to buyers.
This article (SISTIC Singapore under fire for misleading seating details) first appeared on The Independent Singapore News.

Mother’s Day seems like a strange time to celebrate birth control, which, on its most basic level, is about helping people to not become mothers – or not become mothers again.
But in the mid-20th century, much of birth control’s growing support came from attempts to support American women not as feminists, but as mothers. This is the story that I focus on in my 2026 book, “God Bless the Pill: The Surprising History of Contraception and Sexuality in American Religion.” Many religious leaders and U.S. politicians were looking for ways to strengthen the nuclear family, based around a homemaker mother and working father. Expanding legal access to contraception served as a way to make that happen.
Thought leaders who pushed to make birth control more available did not necessarily do so out of a desire to help women control their own bodies. They wanted to protect children and families and believed they were stronger when parents, particularly mothers, could devote intensive time to raising their children – ideally full time. Those views dovetailed with both political needs and Protestant beliefs of the moment.
The Cold War may have sprung from geopolitics and nuclear fears, but it was also a form of culture war, with American politicians pitting images of a “godly” United States against “godless communism.”
The nuclear family was a central piece of that propaganda. As historian Elaine Tyler May wrote, politicians, journalists and other public figures trumpeted the ideal of a mother, father and their children living in their own home: the “nuclear family in the nuclear age.” In their depiction, the American family was based on a sexually charged marriage between a beautiful – and fashionable – homemaker mother and a handsome father who could provide for his white, middle-class family.
This idealized family could own a suburban home, one or two cars, and a constantly revolving selection of modern conveniences. Mothers were expected to invest in their appearance, presenting fathers with a delectable wife when they came home from work – plus a sparkling house and a home-cooked meal. In theory, this perfect mother had time, emotional energy and economic resources to parent their children in a very hands-on way.
Some middle- and upper-class Americans could afford this lifestyle, but it was out of reach for many, including many families that were not white. In addition, as Betty Friedan, one of the mothers of second-wave feminism, would articulate in “The Feminine Mystique,” many women who did live that life were not actually happy. That said, the idealized family was a central piece of American rhetoric in the middle of the 20th century – as was religion.
In the 1950s, more Americans attended church and synagogue than in any other decade that century. Around World War II, American figures started to often invoke the phrase “Judeo-Christian” to describe the country – a belated nod to Catholic and Jewish citizens in the still mostly Protestant nation. Nuclear families’ faith was considered a key piece of American defense against a “godless” Soviet Union.
American propaganda contrasted these ideal U.S. families against a vision of communism in which both parents worked. Soviet families were depicted in apartments with a shared kitchen and bathroom down the hall, without the material wonders of capitalism – from a brand new Frigidaire to a Kitchen Aid stand mixer and a Cadillac in the driveway.
In U.S. political rhetoric, the American family lived in technicolor, and the Soviet family lived in black and white.
But affording that vision of the American dream would be easier with fewer children.
Basic birth control methods had been part of American life for a long time – as evidenced by a declining birth rate among the middle and upper class, starting in the middle of the 19th century. “Scientific” birth control that required medical visits, such as diaphragms, had been around since the early 20th century.
Diaphragms became more accepted, and in 1936, a U.S. appeals court formally classified birth control as medical equipment. The birth control pill, which had been developed throughout the 1950s, was formally approved by the Food and Drug Administration in 1960.
Different Protestant denominations had slowly come to accept birth control, though the Catholic Church remained staunchly opposed to all except the rhythm method. Contraception turned procreation into a new place where Christians could live morally: not having more children than they could afford, nurture, educate and raise with knowledge of God. Denominational statements from groups as diverse as the Lutherans and the Quakers articulated a Christian form of planned parenthood that they would call “responsible parenthood.” In many ways, it was primarily about motherhood.
In 1960, the Rev. Richard Fagley published “Population Explosion and Christian Responsibility,” the first pan-Protestant theory of responsible parenthood. Fagley, a Congregational minister, called the medical knowledge that led to the contraceptive pill “a liberating gift from God, to be used to the glory of God, in accordance with his will for men.” He went on to say that godly scientific knowledge “affects deeply the size of the family … and therefore has created a new area for responsible decisions.”
While Fagley was the first person to collect various denominations’ views into a cohesive theology, his position represented a Protestant consensus, and his argument was adopted by the National Council of Churches the following year.
Birth control, in this formulation, was not about being child-free, or being able to engage in sex outside marriage. Rather, it allowed couples to decide, prayerfully, how many children they could have, and when they would have them. “Responsible parenthood” framed family size around “Christian duty.”
The theology of responsible parenthood makes clear that it is not about feminist autonomy for women.
For instance, when the National Council of Churches released a statement on responsible parenthood, the reasons listed for limiting the number of children in the family included “The right of the child to be wanted, loved, cared for, educated, and trained in the ‘discipline and instruction of the Lord’ (Eph. 6:4). The rights of existing children to parental care have a proper claim.” In the 1960s, the person assumed to do the majority of the work to raise a child was the mother.
Religious leaders’ rationale included concern for the woman herself, but in her role as “the mother-wife,” as the statement said – framing women in relationship to the men and children in their lives. Birth control was important inasmuch as it preserved her body and mind to fill those roles. And the occasion for more widespread acceptance of “responsible parenthood” was the advent of the birth control pill, for which women were primarily responsible.
In other words, birth control gained acceptance as a way to perfect married motherhood. But in 1972, the Supreme Court case Eisenstadt v. Baird expanded the right of contraception from married people to single people, including teenage girls.
The religious consensus supporting birth control soon fractured among evangelicals and other conservative Protestants. Not only did they start to see birth control as supporting sex outside of marriage, but also as undermining a mother’s moral guidance of her daughters, who could now access contraception without parental consent. Many more liberal Protestants got quieter as well.
That early, vocal support for birth control has come back in recent years. Battles over the Affordable Care Act and the Supreme Court’s 2022 Dobbs v. Jackson decision have caused liberal Protestant denominations to reaffirm their commitment to reproductive healthcare, including birth control and abortion. That commitment has a long history – even if it is not a strictly feminist history.
Samira Mehta receives funding from the Henry Luce Foundation.