It is “on the forgotten shore where the thought of measure was born” that Pope Leo XIV’s first encyclical “finds its deepest roots”, writes Ghazi Ben Ahmed, founder of the Mediterranean Development Initiative and a scientific collaborator at the ULB. With this text, the Pope summons Saint Augustine to the bedside of the twenty-first century.

By the theological intensity and urgency of its cry, the new encyclical Magnifica Humanitas already establishes itself as a pivotal text. Faced with the res novae of our age — the advent of artificial intelligence, the temptation of transhumanism, and the dematerialisation of consciousness — the Supreme Pontiff does not adopt the posture of a technical censor. As a great heir to Saint Augustine, he returns to the sources of Christian anthropology in order to offer a diagnosis of absolute modernity.

Behind the concepts of algorithms and robotics, it is the gigantic shadow of the Bishop of Hippo that looms over every line of this text. But this genius has a face, and that face is Mediterranean: it is from Carthage — that long-forgotten African shore, cradle of the thought of measure against excess — that Augustine learns to doubt before he hopes, to understand limitation as the condition of greatness. The Pope does not merely quote Augustine; he thinks with him. And in order to disarm the traps of contemporary technonarcissism, it is once again from this deep Mediterranean that the light reaches him.

Babel 2.0: The Resurgence of the Libido Dominandi

From the very introduction, the framework is established: humanity hesitates between “erecting a new Tower of Babel or building the holy city”. Here we find ourselves once again plunged into the heart of the masterful dialectic of The City of God.
For Saint Augustine, human history is the theatre of a struggle between two loves: love of self unto contempt of God, and love of God unto contempt of self. By transposing this myth into the digital age, the Pope brilliantly identifies the secret engine of the technocratic paradigm: the temptation of self-sufficiency, the dream of a technical power capable of abolishing the creaturely condition of lack; the madness of mastery, with AI erected not as an instrument of emancipation but as an instrument of control and pure performance.

What the text calls the “culture of power” is nothing other than the Augustinian libido dominandi — that passion for domination which today dresses itself in lines of code and delegates to machines the power over life and death.

“There is no algorithm capable of making war morally acceptable” — Magnifica Humanitas, Chapter V — an echo of Augustine’s words: “Take away justice, and what are kingdoms but great bands of robbers?”

The Praise of Limitation in the Face of the Posthuman Mirage

The most audacious contribution of the encyclical lies in its rehabilitation of human vulnerability. Where the prophets of Silicon Valley see the biological body as a defect to be corrected, the Pope reminds us that the human being does not flourish in spite of limitation, but often through it.

This thought was not born in a Cambridge laboratory, nor in a Palo Alto start-up. It was born on the southern shore of the Mediterranean. Carthage, that metropolis of the ancient world, was the place where the tension between the hybris of power and the wisdom of finitude was first forged. Augustine was both its heir and the one who transcended it. By stressing that AIs “do not live through experience, possess no body, know neither joy nor pain”, the Pope draws an impassable anthropological boundary: the machine calculates; only the human being experiences meaning.

This is precisely what the Mare Nostrum has always known: that greatness is not measured by the power of armies or the sophistication of tools, but by the capacity to inhabit one’s own finitude with lucidity. From Clitomachus to Augustine, from Carthage to Hippo, this African shore of the Mediterranean forged a thought of measure that neither conquering Rome nor triumphant Silicon Valley has ever managed to produce.

The Great Return to Inwardness

In an age of absolute externalisation — where our memories are archived in the cloud and our decisions entrusted to command prompts — Magnifica Humanitas concludes with a fervent call to divine indwelling. To invite humanity to rediscover the place “where God desires to dwell” is to reactivate the most famous secret of the Confessions: Tu eras interior intimo meo — “you were more inward to me than my innermost self”.

This formula is not the conclusion of a mystic withdrawn from the world. It is the culmination of a life that began amid the agitation of Carthage, passed through doubt and excess, and ultimately found in embraced limitation the path to truth. It is from this Mediterranean experience — made of crossings, ruptures, and intense flashes of light against the backdrop of the sea — that Augustine still speaks, through the encyclical, to our disoriented century.

Ultimately, Magnifica Humanitas is not a text of retreat, but a compass of hope. By summoning the wisdom of the son of Carthage, Leo XIV reminds us that the true magnificence of the human being will never be measured by the power of his servers, but by his capacity to remain human, fragile, and profoundly connected to the other.

Faced with the dizzying promises of artificial intelligence, the two shores of the Mediterranean may be rediscovering that they share the same anxiety and the same hope. For in the face of the technological powers reshaping our human condition, no civilisation will make the crossing alone. Faced with the desert of silicon, it is once again from this African shore of the Mediterranean — where Augustine learned to doubt before he hoped — that the light we need reaches us.

Ghazi Ben Ahmed

Founder of MDI

Think tanker, leader; thinker; strategist; maker; communicator. Expert in International trade and regional integration.

Ghazi Ben Ahmed

Founder of MDI

A small river named Duden flows by their place and supplies it with the necessary

• Phone:+1 (859) 254-6589
• Email:info@example.com

L’article Opinion: ‘With his encyclical, Léon returns to the roots of Christian anthropology to offer an analysis of absolute modernity’ est apparu en premier sur mdi-international.

I. Paris burns, London celebrates

On the evening of 30 May 2026, Paris Saint-Germain won the Champions League. A victory that should have been a national celebration: the second consecutive European title for a club at the peak of its powers. A few days earlier, in London, Arsenal had celebrated winning the English Premier League title after a twenty-year wait. Supporters had taken to the streets, drinking, singing and weeping with joy, before heading home. No cars were set alight. No smashed shop windows. No police charges. Elsewhere in Europe, in Poland, Wisła Kraków supporters also celebrated their club’s promotion in the streets of Kraków, in a lively, festive atmosphere without any major disturbances: no significant incidents, no scenes of chaos, none of that sense of a celebration immediately threatened by violence.

In Paris, the celebrations have turned into clashes. The Champs-Élysées has become a battlefield. Hundreds have been arrested, dozens injured, and the images are being seen around the world. Once again, the same question arises: why is France no longer able to celebrate its great victories without violence?

The answer is uncomfortable, because it forces us to face up to what the country often prefers to avoid. It is not merely a question of public safety; it is a question of social cohesion. It is not merely a question of hooliganism; it is a question of belonging. A section of French youth does not experience these victories as moments of national unity, but as opportunities to symbolically settle scores with a country in which they do not fully recognise themselves.

France is divided. And at the heart of this divide lies an issue that neither the left nor the right knows how to address honestly: that of Islam in France, its place in the national identity, and, even more profoundly, the narrative into which the millions of French people of Maghreb and Muslim heritage can fit.

The false debate

The usual response takes two equally fruitless forms.
On the one hand, the apologetic response: Islam is a religion of peace and tolerance; Muslims in France are citizens just like everyone else; stigmatisation is unfair. All of this is true, but politically insufficient. The far right will always respond with images of violence, cherry-picked statistics, and facts—whether real or fabricated. The battle for reputation is a lost cause for anyone seeking to defend Islam against its caricatures.

On the other hand, there is the repressive response: more checks, more surveillance, a tougher stance. Whilst this may sometimes address public order concerns, it does not resolve the underlying issues. On the contrary, it reinforces, amongst some young people in working-class neighbourhoods, the idea that their presence is perceived first and foremost as a threat.
Both these responses share the same flaw: they treat Islam in France as a problem to be managed rather than as a sense of belonging to be embedded within a shared history.

The third way

There is a third way, one that is more intellectually demanding and politically fruitful. It does not consist of convincing people that Islam is ‘acceptable’. It consists of showing that Islam, Christianity and Judaism share the same Mediterranean roots, a common historical depth, and ancient connections that predate modern categories of identity and transcend them.
Not Islam versus France. Not Islam tolerated by France. But Islam, Christianity and Judaism as three expressions of the same Mediterranean world, of which Carthage was, for centuries, one of the most fruitful testing grounds. It is this project to restore a shared memory that we refer to here as ‘mosaic thinking’.

The misguided argument

It may be argued that Carthage is too local an example to address crises as vast as those facing contemporary Islam. A young person from Clichy-sous-Bois will not automatically feel a connection to Clitomachus of Carthage. An Indonesian from Surabaya has no genealogical link to Carthage. Jihadism, Salafism and the divisions in the French suburbs stem from historical, social and theological dynamics on an entirely different scale.

The objection is correct in what it states, but mistaken in what it assumes. Mosaic thought does not claim to be a comprehensive cure for political Islam. It offers something more modest and more solid: a proof of concept. It reminds us, through actual history, that a certain way of living with plurality has existed, that it has produced major works, that it has spanned languages, religions and centuries, and that it can therefore once again become an intellectual resource.

Mosaic thought does not assert in the abstract that plurality is possible; it shows that it has already taken place.

II. What Braudel allows us to say

Fernand Braudel has shown that mountains, seas, roads and trade shape, over the long term, the ways in which people live, trade and think. Geography does not explain everything. It does not dictate ideas. But it creates frameworks of experience, constraints, flows, neighbourhoods and tensions that make certain forms of thought more likely.

It is in this spirit that we must understand Carthage: not as the source of an exportable doctrine, but as a historical centre where a certain way of inhabiting the Mediterranean world and of thinking about its complexity was developed.
Carthage is not a cause of ideas. It is a matrix of intellectual experiences.

This Braudelian perspective is crucial, as it allows us to reconcile two seemingly contradictory assertions: Carthage is unique, rooted in a specific geography, history, languages and proper names; yet it is universally instructive, because the structure of experience it reveals – plurality, circulation, conflict, hybridisation without fusion – is found elsewhere, in other forms.

III. Carthage as an epistemological laboratory

Why Carthage rather than Athens, Rome or Alexandria?

Because Carthage occupies a unique position. Founded by Phoenicians from Tyre in the 9th century BCE on Berber soil, it quickly became the major commercial and cultural hub of the western Mediterranean. Neither East nor West, neither Asia nor Europe, it was a point of tension and exchange between the worlds. It traded with the Greeks whilst resisting them, engaged in dialogue with Rome whilst challenging it, and coexisted with the Berber populations of the interior whilst integrating them.

This position creates a particular epistemological condition. Anyone thinking from the perspective of Carthage cannot easily take refuge in absolute certainty. They see too many competing truths being asserted with equal conviction. They therefore develop, through experience even before turning it into a doctrine, a tolerance for uncertainty.

This is the very heart of mosaic thought.

Like the mosaic itself – this art of assembled fragments – this way of thinking does not merge differences. It does not dissolve the tesserae into a uniform mass. It keeps them distinct, with their colour, their hardness, their origin, but arranges them in such a way as to produce an image that no single fragment contained on its own.

A mosaic is neither purity nor confusion. It is composition.

And it is here that Valéry’s phrase takes on its full significance. But Mediterranean light is not a light that homogenises. It does not blur the contours; it accentuates them. In this light, each tessera retains its own colour, its hardness, its origin. It is not the light of fusion, but that of clear distinction; the light that allows us to see, precisely, that the fragments are different, and that it is their combined difference that produces the image.

This is why mosaic thinking is not syncretism. It does not dissolve religions into a vague spirituality, languages into a cultural Esperanto, or identities into an abstract ‘Mediterranean-ness’. It keeps tensions visible. It works with contrasts rather than softening them.

IV. The tesserae: five figures of a constellation

Clitomachus of Carthage — The founding suspension

Clitomachus of Carthage, born Hasdrubal, arrived in Athens in the 2nd century BCE with an already solid philosophical grounding. A disciple of Carneades, he became the first non-Greek to head the Academy. His central contribution was the formalisation of epoché: the suspension of judgement in the face of that which one can neither affirm nor deny with certainty. But Clitomachus did not stop at scepticism. He demonstrated that one can act on the basis of probabilities without claiming to possess absolute truth. He thus established a lucid form of probabilism: neither dogmatism nor paralysis, but action amidst uncertainty. This stance stemmed from a man educated across multiple languages and systems of thought. For him, the suspension of judgement is not an intellectual retreat. It is a commitment to the complexity of reality. Clitomachus is the founding tessera: without him, the constellation has no centre of gravity.

Augustine of Hippo — Doubt as a Path to Inwardness

He has been made the Father of the Church, the theologian of grace. He is. But before that, Augustine was a Berber from Thagaste who passed through Manichaeism, Academic skepticism, Neoplatonism, and finally Christianity. This journey is not incidental: it is the very structure of his thought. The Confessions tell the story of a consciousness moving through contradictory truths, refusing to settle too early, keeping uncertainty open until an inner certainty imposes itself. For Augustine, truth does not arrive as an external dogmatic closure. It is sought within the very movement of the self. Augustine read and engaged with Academic skepticism; it is not enough, in itself, to establish a continuous tradition, but it shows that a textual circulation did indeed exist between ancient Carthaginian philosophy and North African Christian thought. He is the tessera that proves the constellation crosses centuries and confessions.

Ibn Khaldun — The Science of the Becoming of Civilizations

Ibn Khaldun was born in Tunis in the fourteenth century into an Andalusian family settled in North Africa. With the Muqaddimah, he founded a philosophy of history that rejects both simplistic providentialism and monocausal explanations. His notion of ‘asabiyya — social cohesion, group solidarity — speaks directly to the central question of every mosaic society: what holds disparate fragments together? The answer is not essence, but the bond. A civilization endures not because it is homogeneous, but because its groups are able, for a time, to produce a solidarity strong enough to transcend their divisions. Ibn Khaldun is the most political thinker in this constellation: he transforms the mosaic intuition into a science of historical becoming. He is the tessera without which the constellation remains philosophical without becoming political.

Albert Camus — The Absurd as a Modern Epoché

French Algerian, neither entirely European nor fully Algerian, raised in the poverty of Belcourt, trained in Greek philosophy by Jean Grenier, Camus thinks from a place of fracture. His notion of the absurd can be read as a modern reformulation of the epoché: faced with a world that does not answer the questions posed to it, he rejects resignation, nihilism, and the leap into an artificial certainty alike. One must imagine Sisyphus happy, not because his condition is a good one, but because lucidity is already a form of freedom. Camus adds an irreplaceable ethical dimension to mosaic thought: the refusal of false syntheses, dogmatic consolations, and narratives that resolve things too easily. In his work, plurality is no longer merely a historical condition; it becomes an ethic of measure.

Youssef Seddik — The Contemporary Link

A Tunisian philosopher and scholar of Islam, Youssef Seddik proposes a reading of the Qur’an as an open, polyphonic text, traversed by layers of meaning. He rejects both the literalism that freezes the text and the Orientalism that reduces its depth. His approach is a mosaic reading of Islam: it embraces layers, tensions, and openings, and keeps the text alive precisely because it refuses to imprison it. Seddik does not mechanically extend the thought of Clitomachus, Augustine, or Ibn Khaldun. But from the same historical space, he reactivates the same intellectual disposition: to think faith, text, and identity through plurality rather than against it. He is the tessera without which the constellation would remain in the past; the one who proves that this intellectual disposition is still alive, still possible, still necessary.

V. The Binding Agent: What Makes a Constellation

These figures do not constitute a school in the strict sense. They did not all read one another. They do not belong to a continuous and institutionalized tradition. What connects them, therefore, is not linear transmission, but recurrence: the recurrence of certain intellectual attitudes produced by the same kind of historical experience.

Four traits return with particular force.

First, the refusal of dogmatic closure. Clitomachus suspends judgment. Augustine seeks before he believes. Ibn Khaldun rejects simplistic explanations. Camus distrusts systems. Seddik keeps the text open.

Second, action under uncertainty. None of these thinkers is content merely to doubt. All seek a way of acting despite the instability of the world: Clitomachus’s probabilism, Augustine’s quest, Ibn Khaldun’s ‘asabiyya, Camus’s revolt are all responses to uncertainty.

Third, stratification as a source of richness. These thinkers do not seek to erase the layers that came before. Augustine carries within himself the Manichaean, the skeptic, and the Neoplatonist he once was. Camus carries Greece, France, and Algeria within himself. The mosaic does not melt down its tesserae; it arranges them.

Finally, measure against excess. Against fanaticism, nihilism, and immoderation, this constellation maintains a form of Mediterranean wisdom of limits. Not tepidness, but lucidity. Not resignation, but a refusal of murderous absolutes.

VI. The Real Reach: Local and Universal

Mosaic thought will not solve Indonesian jihadism, nor by itself answer the internal tensions of global Sunni theology, nor spontaneously transform a young person from a French banlieue. To claim otherwise would be a deception.

Its primary reach is local: to restore to Tunisians, Maghrebis, and, more broadly, North African societies a historical depth that has been confiscated from them twice.

First, by the colonial narrative, which instrumentalizes Augustine, turning him into a mere outpost of the West and erasing the specifically Berber contribution to universal thought. And second, by the Islamist narrative, which tends to make history begin with the Arab conquest of 647, as though everything that preceded it were insignificant or impure.

Mosaic thought proposes something else: a stratified identity rather than a besieged one. It recalls that this soil produced, before and after Islam, forms of thought of universal richness. It enables North African societies to think of themselves not as peripheries of the East or the West, but as historical centers of intellectual production.

Its universal reach is indirect. If Tunisia, and the Maghreb more broadly, rehabilitate this constellation and build upon it a coherent intellectual modernity, they may become a visible precedent. Not a model that can be mechanically exported, but a living demonstration: a Muslim and Mediterranean society can embrace its Islamic heritage without erasing its Christian, Jewish, Berber, Punic, Greek, and Roman layers. That is where its strength lies: not in proclaiming plurality, but in embodying it. And it is precisely this embodiment that is missing today, three thousand kilometers from Carthage.

VII. The Bridge: From Carthage to the Champs-Élysées

Those three thousand kilometers bring us back to the Champs-Élysées. Not by metaphor, but by logic. If the fracture visible in the streets of Paris on the evening of May 30 is a narrative fracture before it is a security fracture, then the question is not: how do we contain the violence? It is: what narrative can replace the one that is missing? That narrative will not come from Brussels or the Place Beauvau. If it comes at all, it will come from the ability of Mediterranean societies themselves to produce a genealogy worthy of them — historically true, intellectually demanding, and irreducible to the uses that both Salafism and the far right might make of it.

The problem of Islam in France is not merely security-related, social, or administrative. It is also narrative. Many young French people of North African or Muslim background today have access to little more than a poor and polarized range of identities.

On one side, Salafism offers them a clear genealogy: you belong to a pure, universal, thousand-year-old tradition, superior to national borders and social humiliations. Never mind that you are discriminated against, poorly housed, looked down upon: you are the heir to a civilization. This offer is powerful because it answers a real need: the need to belong to something greater than oneself.

On the other side, official republican Islam often puts forward a defensive, almost administrative narrative: prove your loyalty, reassure, condemn, apologize for existing. Between the closed genealogy of Salafism and the defensive integration of official Islam, there is a void.

Mosaic thought can help fill that void. It unfolds another genealogy: not pure, closed, and literalist, but plural, Mediterranean, and historically rooted. It says to a young French person of North African origin: your intellectual ancestors are not only the Companions of the Prophet or the jurists of Medina; they are also Augustine the Berber, Clitomachus the Carthaginian, Ibn Khaldun the Tunisian, Camus the Algerian. They thought from within a world of tensions, crossings, languages, and multiple faiths. They did not turn this into an identity wound, but into a philosophical strength.

This genealogy does not erase Islam. It places it within a longer, richer continuity, one that is more difficult for literalism to instrumentalize. It offers a form of belonging compatible with republican complexity.

Of course, a narrative does not eliminate unemployment, discrimination, racial profiling, or urban fractures. These realities demand political, social, and economic responses. But societies are held together not only by public policy. They are also held together by shared narratives.

A young person who sees himself as the heir to a closed and besieged tradition will more readily experience France as a foreign space. A young person who sees himself as the heir to a mosaic matrix — in which Islam stands alongside Berber Christianity, North African Judaism, Greek philosophy, and Mediterranean history — may more readily inscribe his French belonging within a depth that does not require him to amputate any part of himself.

This is not naïveté. It is cultural politics in the most serious sense of the term: the battle of narratives that precedes and conditions many other battles.

Why does this narrative not yet exist? Because no one has truly constructed it. Salafism has had access to funding, networks, mosques, satellite channels, and digital platforms. The French far right has an interest in keeping Islam in a position of permanent otherness. Republican elites, for their part, have too often reduced the question to the abstract defense of laïcité, without understanding that a nation is transmitted not only through principles, but also through a shared inheritance.

To rehabilitate mosaic thought, then, is to fill a narrative void with something true: names, places, dates, texts, a soil.

Carthage will not heal the Champs-Élysées in a single generation. But it can offer part of the French youth of North African origin something they are sorely lacking: a genealogy that is dignified, plural, and irreducibly Mediterranean.

VIII. Conclusion

The soil does not dictate ideas. But certain places create conditions of possibility for certain forms of thought. They offer a horizon of experiences, encounters, and shared problems that reappear, across the centuries, in authors who may otherwise seem profoundly different.

Carthage is one such place. Not the source of a single doctrine. Not a continuous tradition in the strict sense. A matrix: a historical locus in which, at several moments, a particular way of inhabiting Mediterranean plurality has been forged without turning it either into a wound or into dissolution.

Clitomachus, Augustine, Ibn Khaldun, Camus, and Seddik do not say the same thing. They do not constitute a school. But they draw a constellation: that of a form of thought that refuses dogmatic closure, embraces uncertainty, acts despite doubt, preserves the layers of identity, and seeks measure against excess.

This constellation is not a utopia. It has already produced works. It has crossed religions, languages, and centuries without becoming fixed within any one of them. That is precisely what utopias cannot say of themselves.

But a proof of concept becomes a political resource only on one condition: that we decide to transmit it. Salafism has had access to funding, networks, and platforms. The far right has an interest in keeping Islam in a position of permanent otherness. Between these two symmetrical enterprises of closure, mosaic thought has only what it has always had on its side: the truth of its soil, the richness of its names, and the quiet strength of things that have already happened.

The mosaic of Carthage is not waiting to be invented. It is waiting for those who will carry it forward.

Ghazi Ben Ahmed

Founder of MDI

Think tanker, leader; thinker; strategist; maker; communicator. Expert in International trade and regional integration.

Ghazi Ben Ahmed

Founder of MDI

A small river named Duden flows by their place and supplies it with the necessary

• Phone:+1 (859) 254-6589
• Email:info@example.com

L’article Mosaic thinking — Carthage as a proof of concept! est apparu en premier sur mdi-international.

5,500 Tunisian dinars per month (equivalent to approximately 1,618 euros).

In 2026, this is the monthly wage – adjusted for inflation – that a Tunisian family comprising two parents and two children would need to live comfortably, without having to resort to a bank loan.

This was stated by the academic and economist Ridha Chkoundali on Jawhara FM radio on Tuesday 9 June, following studies that assessed the real cost of living in Tunisia, thereby highlighting the significant gap between a household’s actual income and its necessary daily expenditure.

5,500 dinars per month are required to cover the cost of living, compared with a Tunisian guaranteed minimum wage (SMIG) of 554 dinars per month. That is roughly 10 times the value of the SMIG: does this mean one would have to work 10 times as hard to reach a decent standard of living?

The answer is simple: no.

It is becoming increasingly clear that Tunisia’s trajectory regarding consumer credit is a cause for concern. Whilst inflation has finally stabilised to some extent since the post-Covid period, there is no guarantee that this trend will continue in the years to come. Rising energy prices or production costs could quickly reignite inflationary pressures.

“According to Ridha Chkoundali, the effects of the geopolitical crisis in the Middle East are not yet fully reflected in the current statistics. He stated, however, that Tunisia could face imported inflation in the coming months as a result of the disruptions affecting global energy and commodity markets.” (Business News)

The economist points out that a rise in energy costs in Europe will automatically feed through to production costs and fuel domestic inflation in the Tunisian economy, which is itself heavily dependent on imports of raw materials and other European products.

Against this backdrop, rising household debt, combined with a persistent erosion of purchasing power, risks becoming particularly dangerous for the country’s economic and social stability; it should also be noted that Tunisian purchasing power has fallen by 25 per cent over the last three years …

Sources: Jawhara FM, Business News, La Presse Tunisie, Tuniscope.com.

Ahmed Lagha

Cofounder and Treasurer

Ahmed Lagha

Cofounder and Treasurer

A small river named Duden flows by their place and supplies it with the necessary

• Phone:+1 (859) 254-6589
• Email:info@example.com

L’article 5,500 Dinars to Live Decently, 554 Dinars to Survive est apparu en premier sur mdi-international.

The price visible on trading screens reflects transactions already executed; it does not fully incorporate routes disrupted, insurance premiums recalculated, and supply chains placed under geopolitical constraint. Markets continue to treat oil primarily as a commodity. Yet in the Strait of Hormuz, it is increasingly subject to geopolitical leverage.

For Tunisia, this shift is not theoretical. It has direct macroeconomic consequences.

A Budget Assumption Under Strain

Tunisia’s 2026 Finance Law is built on an assumed average oil price of $63.3 per barrel. Current levels stand well above that reference. The deviation is economically significant.

Each additional dollar in the price of oil adds approximately 164 million dinars to compensation expenditures. This mechanism is automatic: higher import costs expand subsidy requirements, widening the fiscal deficit unless offset by higher revenues or expenditure restraint.

At $80 per barrel, fiscal pressure intensifies. At $90, adjustment becomes considerably more difficult. At $100, the budgetary impact is substantial and sustained.

Tunisia enters this phase with elevated public debt, rigid expenditure structures dominated by wages, subsidies, and debt servicing, and limited access to international capital markets. In such a configuration, the scope for discretionary counter-cyclical policy is structurally constrained.

Inflation Through Production and Imports

The oil shock extends beyond public finances. Energy is a core input in transport, electricity generation, agriculture, and manufacturing. Petroleum derivatives are embedded in plastics, packaging, fertilizers, and numerous industrial processes. Tunisia also imports finished goods from economies where energy prices are not subsidized, meaning higher oil prices are transmitted directly through import costs.

The consequence is imported inflation.

According to Capital Economics, a prolonged conflict pushing oil to $100 per barrel could add between 0.6 and 0.7 percentage points to global inflation. For Tunisia, such an increase would translate into higher consumer prices, further compressing purchasing power at a time when households are already adjusting to elevated living costs.

Inflation in this context is not merely a statistical outcome; it has distributive effects, disproportionately affecting lower- and middle-income households whose consumption baskets are more sensitive to energy and transport costs.

External Balances and Logistical Pressures

As a net importer of hydrocarbons, Tunisia’s trade balance is structurally sensitive to oil prices. A sustained rise in the energy bill deepens the current account deficit and places additional strain on foreign-exchange reserves; a key buffer for exchange-rate stability and external confidence.

Logistics compound this vulnerability. Maritime insurance premiums have increased amid instability affecting transit routes, particularly through the Suez Canal. Rerouting and security surcharges raise freight costs, affecting both consumer goods and intermediate inputs used in domestic production.

Meanwhile, JPMorgan Chase has noted that dozens of empty oil tankers are currently waiting near the Gulf region. Storage capacity in producing countries is limited to only a few days of output. Should disruptions persist, logistical bottlenecks could evolve into production constraints, reinforcing upward pressure on prices and prolonging market tightness.

Under such conditions, what begins as volatility risks becoming structural imbalance.

A Dual Shock in a Constrained Policy Environment

The present oil surge constitutes a dual shock for Tunisia:

• Fiscal, through rising compensation costs and widening deficits;
• Economic, through imported inflation, higher production expenses, and increased transport costs.

These channels interact. Larger subsidies expand borrowing needs; higher import bills weaken external balances; inflation erodes real incomes; slower growth limits revenue mobilization. The cumulative effect narrows policy options further.

Tunisia’s vulnerability is structural. The economy remains heavily dependent on imported hydrocarbons to sustain transport, electricity generation, and industry. Export diversification remains limited, and foreign-currency earnings are insufficient to offset large energy import bills. Fiscal rigidities reduce flexibility precisely when flexibility is most needed.

Without structural reform – including accelerated investment in renewable energy, improved energy efficiency, enhanced export competitiveness, and a credible medium-term fiscal consolidation strategy – exposure to external energy shocks will persist.

Regional Context, Asymmetric Exposure

Tunisia is not alone in its sensitivity to oil prices. Morocco, also a net oil importer, faces similar exposure to prolonged price increases and imported inflation.

By contrast, Algeria, as a hydrocarbon exporter, benefits from higher prices in the short term. Yet its fiscal and external balances remain closely tied to energy revenues, and regional instability carries its own financial and security risks. Energy shocks reshape North African macroeconomic dynamics, albeit asymmetrically.

A Narrow Margin for Absorption

The Strait of Hormuz lies far from Tunis geographically, but its stability influences Tunisia’s fiscal trajectory, inflation path, reserve adequacy, and growth outlook. In an interconnected energy system, distance offers no insulation.

If oil prices stabilize quickly, Tunisia will face a demanding but manageable adjustment. If elevated prices persist, the convergence of fiscal expansion, external deterioration, and inflationary pressure could significantly constrain macroeconomic stability.

In this context, the gravest risk is not simply fiscal slippage or higher inflation, but a broader breakdown of economic stability;  one that could weaken the dinar, exhaust foreign-exchange reserves, and trigger acute shortages. Such a configuration would not remain confined to macroeconomic indicators; it would carry profound social and political consequences in a country where economic strain has historically translated into systemic upheaval.

A further vulnerability lies in Tunisia’s increasingly constrained diplomatic positioning. External financial support cannot be assumed. In previous crises, Gulf countries provided liquidity backstops or budgetary assistance. Today, geopolitical alignments are more fragmented, and Tunisia’s ambiguous positioning in regional tensions may reduce the likelihood of rapid financial relief from traditional partners.

Should regional polarization intensify, economic repercussions could extend beyond capital flows. Labor mobility, remittance channels, and bilateral economic ties may become exposed to political recalibration. For countries such as Tunisia and Algeria, whose citizens maintain economic linkages across the Gulf, the risk is not only financial but also socio-economic.

In such a scenario and to conclude, the convergence of constrained external financing, accelerating dinar depreciation, reserve exhaustion, entrenched inflation, and disrupted remittance inflows would not merely intensify macroeconomic stress; it could transform what is currently treated as speculative risk into the premature unraveling of an already fragile economic system. An economy structurally dependent on external financing, weak in productive diversification, and unable to generate sustained growth or macroeconomic stability cannot indefinitely absorb cumulative shocks.

Under prolonged pressure, the outcome would not be a cyclical adjustment, but the materialization of a risk long feared yet seldom articulated: that sustained economic breakdown could once again trigger systemic political rupture. If left unaddressed, the consequences may extend beyond institutional instability to social fragmentation and lasting damage to the state itself. The question is no longer whether reform is necessary, but whether there is still time to act.

Ghazi Ben Ahmed

Founder of MDI

Think tanker, leader; thinker; strategist; maker; communicator. Expert in International trade and regional integration.

Ghazi Ben Ahmed

Founder of MDI

A small river named Duden flows by their place and supplies it with the necessary

• Phone:+1 (859) 254-6589
• Email:info@example.com

L’article An Oil Shock Tunisia Cannot Absorb Without Structural Reforms est apparu en premier sur mdi-international.

Dear fellow citizens, devoted patriots,

As we enter the new year of 2026, my dearest wish is for the salvation of our homeland.

Tunisia stands at a crossroads: we must, above all, save it from bankruptcy, but also rid it of the poison of hatred and polarisation that divides us.

The Tunisian people deserve infinitely better than what they are enduring today. It is unacceptable that a people with a thousand-year-old heritage should be reduced to suffering the humiliation of shortages, the scourge of mass unemployment and the blight of pollution that chokes our cities. Let us finally choose practical action over sterile ideology. The recovery of our economy must no longer be a campaign promise, but our sole and only guiding principle.

Our vision is of a bold and competitive Tunisia. We have talents shining all over the world; it is time to create the conditions for them to build here, at home. We call for an economic revolution based on innovation, the energy transition and the unleashing of initiative.

Let us spare a special thought for our regions, such as Gabès, where the environment and the health of our fellow citizens have for too long been sacrificed on the altar of neglect. Environmental justice is the foundation of dignity. Let us stop diverting regional wealth; let us finally devote it to the priority development of those who produce and protect it.

Now is the time for unity and absolute autonomy.

Tunisia must no longer beg for its bread or sell off its sovereignty to anyone. We emphatically state that our country is not for sale and that its security cannot be delegated: our sovereignty will never be surrendered to Algerian interests or to any foreign power. Let us rely on our own strengths, on our creative genius and on unwavering solidarity with the most vulnerable. We will leave no one by the wayside.

The economic solutions to create wealth and decent jobs for all Tunisians are well known and within our grasp. We possess the necessary skills and our own resources to implement these solutions, so that we may seize our independence with our own hands. We no longer need to remain at the mercy of any country, nor wait for ‘aid’ that condemns us to live forever in the submission and humiliation of dependence.

We must choose our dignity, our ambition and genuine solidarity. Enough of empty slogans, and enough of this rhetoric of “toxic fraternity” which has brought us nothing but alienation. The time has come to stand shoulder to shoulder and rebuild our country, together.

May 2026 be the year of restored sovereignty, economic excellence and social justice. Let us make this the year in which Tunisia stops suffering and starts building again.

Long live Tunisia, free, prosperous and proud!

Ghazi Ben Ahmed

Founder of MDI

Think tanker, leader; thinker; strategist; maker; communicator. Expert in International trade and regional integration.

Ghazi Ben Ahmed

Founder of MDI

A small river named Duden flows by their place and supplies it with the necessary

• Phone:+1 (859) 254-6589
• Email:info@example.com

L’article Happy New Year 2026 from the MDI team! est apparu en premier sur mdi-international.

Habib Bourguiba himself embodied this ambivalence. In the early years of independence, he favoured a unifying discourse centred on Arab-Muslim belonging, even distancing the Amazigh dimension, which he perceived as a potential threat to national unity. Yet, at the same time, he was profoundly aware of the richness of Tunisia’s ancient past and did not hesitate to symbolically place himself in the lineage of figures such as Hannibal or Saint Augustine. It is from this plural historical foundation that he paradoxically helped forge the basis of a modern Tunisianity: rooted in its historical depth, yet open to the Mediterranean and the wider world.

It is within this intellectual continuity that it becomes both relevant and necessary today to consider the integration of Clitomachus of Carthage into the Tunisian pantheon.

Clitomachus of Carthage: a Carthaginian at the heart of ancient philosophy

Clitomachus of Carthage, whose Carthaginian name was Hasdrubal, is one of the most fascinating yet most overlooked figures of ancient philosophy. Born in Carthage around 187 BC, he left his native city for Athens after the destruction of Carthage, where he became a disciple of Carneades and, later, the head of the New Academy.

His work forms part of the tradition of Academic scepticism, in opposition to the dogmatism of the Stoics and the Epicureans. Clitomachus rejected the idea of absolute certainty and proposed that our judgements be founded on what is probable rather than what is certain. After the death of Carneades, he did not merely defend his master’s ideas: he deepened, organised and extended them, giving Academic scepticism its most accomplished form.

None of his writings has survived directly, yet his influence permeates Greco-Roman philosophy, notably through the works of Cicero. Clitomachus thus embodies an erudite ancient Tunisia—discreet, yet essential to the history of universal thought.

A philosophy of the probable for a world of uncertainty

Clitomachus’s thought rests on two pillars:

• the rejection of absolute certainty;
• the adoption of probability as a criterion for judgement and action.

For him, our perceptions and reasoning are always susceptible to error. Unlike the Stoics, who believed that completely reliable knowledge was attainable, Clitomachus held that we can never reach such a level of certainty.

Confronted with this fragility, he did not advocate withdrawal from the world, but rather an art of decision-making amid uncertainty. He distinguished several degrees of probability—simple, confirmed, then confirmed and coherent—which allow one to act without falling into dogmatism. What matters is not “knowing once and for all”, but accepting that our judgements must be continually reassessed in light of new information.

Clitomachus thus stands at the heart of an ancient debate—between fate and freedom, certainty and doubt—which resonates with particular force today. His critique of Stoic fatalism and of the astrological beliefs of his time echoes our contemporary struggles against conspiratorial narratives, mass disinformation and ready-made truths.

Formulated more than two thousand years ago, his principles speak to our era saturated with information and rumours:

• beware of easy certainties;
• accept uncertainty as a normal condition;
• act on the basis of what is most probable, without claiming to possess ultimate truth.

Clitomachus’s probabilistic scepticism is not a philosophy of paralysis, but a school of vigilance, prudence and responsibility.

A missing pillar of the Tunisian pantheon

In the Council of Ministers’ chamber at the Carthage Palace, the Tunisian president placed, like four sentinels of Tunisianity, the tutelary figures watching over the young Republic: Hannibal the strategist, Jugurtha the resister, Ibn Khaldun the thinker, and above all Saint Augustine, the Carthaginian who managed to hold together faith and reason.

But this pantheon still lacks a purely philosophical figure, born of its soil, embodying the strength of critical thought and rational dialogue: Clitomachus. His philosophy reminds us that the search for truth is a path, not a fixed block; that it requires doubt, the confrontation of arguments, and the refusal of overly simple answers.

In a world where truth often seems elusive, where extremist narratives and media manipulation proliferate, Clitomachus offers us a precious antidote:

• constructive doubt rather than cynicism;
• enlightened inquiry rather than blind belief;
• reasonable probability rather than fanatical certainty.

Just as fruitful connections were once drawn between Saint Augustine and Plato, Clitomachus can extend another synthesis: that of faith, reason and rational inquiry—an integral part of the Mediterranean’s deeper identity. To add him to the Tunisian pantheon would be to assert loudly that Tunisia is defined not only by the sword or dogma, but also by the mind, debate, enlightened doubt and the pursuit of truth.

An act of cultural reappropriation

Far from representing an inward-looking identity claim, the recognition of Clitomachus would strengthen the image of Tunisia as a crossroads of civilisations—open and conscious of the richness of its past. It would in fact extend Bourguiba’s most fertile intuition: to situate Tunisia not within a narrow identity, but within a plural, Mediterranean and universalist historical continuity.

Granting Clitomachus an explicit place within the Tunisian pantheon would be an essential gesture of cultural reappropriation. It would amount to affirming that critical thought, philosophy and knowledge are not merely imported from elsewhere: they were also produced here, in Carthage, by a Tunisian before the word existed.

Such a gesture would help rebalance a Tunisian collective imagination too often turned towards external references, even though Tunisia possesses an immense, under-exploited intellectual heritage of its own. Instead of citing only the poets of the jāhiliyya or distant figures, it would mean placing at the centre our own thinkers, our own sages—those who spoke from this land.

Restoring Clitomachus and other Carthaginian or Mediterranean figures to our symbolic horizon does not fragment the nation; on the contrary, it reconfigures our past in the sense described by Paul Ricoeur: changing the meaning of that past by rereading it differently. It is not about resurrecting rival identities, but about stitching back together what has been torn apart: recreating a common narrative, strengthening the sense of belonging and fostering a deeper cohesion among Tunisians, united around a plural history that is fully assumed and fully claimed. Only under these conditions will we be able to face together the challenges of development and finally offer young people a future worthy of their aspirations.

Translated from the article written in French on the Tunisian media outlet Business News.

Ghazi Ben Ahmed

Founder of MDI

Think tanker, leader; thinker; strategist; maker; communicator. Expert in International trade and regional integration.

Ghazi Ben Ahmed

Founder of MDI

A small river named Duden flows by their place and supplies it with the necessary

• Phone:+1 (859) 254-6589
• Email:info@example.com

L’article Clitomachus of Carthage, the Tunisian philosopher our Republic needs! est apparu en premier sur mdi-international.

Ghazi Ben Ahmed

Founder and President

Ghazi Ben Ahmed

Founder and President

A small river named Duden flows by their place and supplies it with the necessary

• Phone:+1 (859) 254-6589
• Email:info@example.com

L’article Tunisia: a possible US – facilitated recovery? est apparu en premier sur mdi-international.

The popular uprisings that followed his self-immolation marked the starting point of the Arab Spring, inspiring widespread protest movements across the Maghreb and the broader Arab world.

In Morocco, the monarchy managed to anticipate, absorb, and neutralize the unrest while preserving its image as the nation’s stabilizing arbiter.

However, today, with the rise of the “Generation Z 212” movement, some analysts see what they describe as a delayed spark of the Arab Spring: a new form of revolt, without leaders or political parties, expressing a similar frustration—this time in the digital age.

Since late September 2025, Morocco has been experiencing an unprecedented wave of protests driven by young people determined to make their voices heard. In several cities—Rabat, Casablanca, Tangier, Marrakech, and Agadir—thousands of youths gather to demand dignity, social justice, and better living conditions. Born out of a tragedy at the Agadir hospital, where several women lost their lives during childbirth, the movement has evolved into a collective cry against inequalities that have become unbearable.

This generation, nicknamed “Generation Z 212,” organizes itself without leaders or parties: everything happens online, through Discord or TikTok, where decisions are made collectively. The digital sphere is no longer just a space for expression but a real political arena and a shared space of consciousness.

Their demands are clear: access to education and healthcare, the fight against corruption, public transparency, and a reorientation of national priorities. Many denounce the contrast between massive investments in sports infrastructure ahead of the 2030 World Cup and the deterioration of public services.

But beyond immediate demands, it is a quest for dignity that drives these young people. They are fighting not only for jobs but for recognition and social justice. Despite arrests and moments of tension, the movement’s maturity and its ability to remain peaceful command respect.

What is happening in Morocco today goes beyond a national protest: it signals the emergence of an Arab and African youth that refuses silence, invents new forms of participation, and redefines the relationship between the governed and the governing.

Ahmed Lagha

Cofounder and Treasurer

Ahmed Lagha

Cofounder and Treasurer

A small river named Duden flows by their place and supplies it with the necessary

• Phone:+1 (859) 254-6589
• Email:info@example.com

L’article Morocco’s Generation Z 212: A New Echo of the Arab Spring est apparu en premier sur mdi-international.

In 2022, 1,816,833 Tunisians—representing 15.4% of the population—were registered as TRE (Tunisians Residing Abroad), which amounts to roughly one out of every seven citizens.

The conclusion is clear: Tunisian migration has intensified over the past decade, especially among young people. A genuine brain drain is underway, and engineering and medicine—sectors in high demand worldwide—are the most affected by this outward migration.

According to an official statement by the Dean of Tunisian Engineers, Kamel Sahnoun, in 2025, 39,000 engineers out of 90,000 registered with the Order of Engineers have left Tunisia to settle abroad. The country trains approximately 8,000 engineers each year, and on average, 20 engineers emigrate every day, further worsening the shortage of qualified labor in several key sectors.

Even more alarming, in 2025, out of a graduating class of 1,900 Tunisian doctors, 1,600 left Tunisia to work abroad.

The Tunisian brain drain reveals a deep imbalance between the country’s human potential and its national ability to retain and utilize it.

Tunisia invests substantially in training its engineers, doctors, and researchers, but the benefits of this investment materialize abroad, in countries that are better equipped to absorb and value this talent.

According to the International Organization for Migration (IOM – UN Migration), the majority of young Tunisians who emigrate cite as their main motivations: lack of professional opportunities, low salaries, and limited career prospects.

For example, Tunisia is now the leading provider of foreign doctors in France, after Morocco. And without significant economic and social improvements, these numbers are likely to rise in the future.

Ahmed Lagha

Cofounder and Treasurer

Ahmed Lagha

Cofounder and Treasurer

A small river named Duden flows by their place and supplies it with the necessary

• Phone:+1 (859) 254-6589
• Email:info@example.com

L’article A nation drained: The alarming rise of Tunisian migration among youth est apparu en premier sur mdi-international.

The United States has shattered a long-standing strategic taboo. By directly targeting the Iranian nuclear facilities of Fordow, Natanz, and Isfahan, once deemed politically untouchable, Operation Midnight Hammer marked a decisive and inevitable turn. “We’re not at war with Iran,” U.S. Vice President JD Vance said. “We’re at war with Iran’s nuclear program.” More than a tactical warning, the strikes signaled the end of strategic ambiguity. The real question now is not whether this will be repeated. It almost certainly will, as Iran is already preparing its response, but whether the international community is finally willing to resolve, once and for all, the ambiguity surrounding Iran’s nuclear program.

For over two decades, the Islamic Republic of Iran has exploited diplomacy while secretly advancing its nuclear program. Parallel to this, it has entrenched itself across the region through an expansive network of proxies, from Hezbollah to the Houthis. Iran was reportedly aware of Hamas’s planning ahead of the October 7th massacre, underscoring its role as the orchestrator-in-chief of regional instability. Despite sanctions and negotiations, Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei has pursued nuclear capabilities with unwavering resolve, as confirmed by recent IAEA reports and European officials. French Armed Forces Minister Sébastien Lecornu bluntly acknowledged: Iran possesses all components needed to build a nuclear bomb.

The recent strikes, though bold, have uncertain results. Conflicting reports obscure the damage inflicted on Iran’s nuclear infrastructure. What is certain is that Iran retains much, if not all, of its offensive capabilities. Believingotherwise is dangerously naïve. Iran’s nuclear knowledge cannot be bombed out of existence. As Kelsey Davenport of the Arms Control Association notes, Iran can rebuild faster than ever.

This is why regime change in Iran is not a rhetorical flourish but a strategic necessity. So long as the Islamic Republic survives, the region remains hostage to its ambitions. And that change must come from within.

Iranians are not silent. From the Green Movement to the more recent “Woman, Life, Freedom” uprisings, the people have made clear their yearning for a different future. Crushed, censored, surveilled, yet unbroken, they represent the only legitimate force capable of breaking this cycle of aggression and repression. Opposition figures like Reza Pahlavi have called this a historic window of opportunity to dismantle a regime that has failed its people and endangered its neighbors.

But ending Tehran’s malign influence also requires addressing the regional autocracies that shield and amplify it. Chief among them: Algeria.

Algeria has positioned itself as Iran’s key ally in North Africa. Its regime, repressive and unaccountable, has tightened its ties with Tehran while projecting strong influence over neighboring Tunisia, that became a swing country. Under President Kaïs Saïd, Tunisia has drifted dangerously toward authoritarianism, encouraged and supported by Algiers. Iranian-linked institutions are now operating inside Tunisia’s borders, including the controversial Ahl al-Bayt Center and newly established Shiite mosques. A once-proud secular and Sunni country is now vulnerable to ideological infiltration and sectarian manipulation.

At the heart of this Iran-Algeria-Tunisia axis lies the Polisario Front, a separatist movement armed and supported by Iran and Algeria, and increasingly legitimized by Tunisian diplomacy. This is not passive alignment; it is a coordinated challenge to regional stability and to Western-aligned states like Morocco.

These developments are not isolated. They reflect a coordinated architecture aimed at exporting instability and opposing Western engagement. Algeria plays a dangerous double game: forging closer ties with Iran while courting Western powers through energy diplomacy. It is time to call this what it is: strategic ambiguity.

What the MENA region needs is a clean break from the doctrines of authoritarian consolidation and ambiguity. A democratic Iran, free from the grip of the clerical regime, could serve as a linchpin for a new, inclusive security architecture. But such a future also requires containing the authoritarian regimes that act as Tehran’s enablers.

This realignment must also include a just solution for the Palestinian people, one that is not hijacked by Iranian-backed militias like Hamas, but rooted in legitimate statehood, accountability, and coexistence. The suffering of the Palestinians must no longer serve as a cynical pretext for geopolitical manipulation by toxic regimes that exploit their cause while doing nothing to advance it. A genuine solution is needed not slogans, not proxy wars.

On Iran’s periphery, autonomous aspirations are growing. Among Kurds and Baluchis, suppressed identities are resurfacing. Syria’s Kurds are closer than ever to achieving autonomy; Iraq’s Kurds have set a precedent. In the event of the regime’s collapse, new federated or independent structures could emerge, not as imperial designs, but as organic responses to longstanding grievances.

Meanwhile, in the Gulf, former adversaries of Iran are recalibrating. Saudi Arabia’s recent normalization with Tehran and the UAE’s pragmatic re-engagement reflect a shift driven less by trust in Iran’s intentions than by concerns over regional stability and perceptions of American disengagement. While these moves may offer short-term de-escalation, they risk legitimizing a regime that continues to export instability. Without a clear and principled counterweight, this détente could embolden Tehran rather than contain it.

We must not cling to illusions. The Islamic Republic will not reform itself. It will not be deterred by sanctions or rhetorical condemnations. While Tehran may not be planning a direct repeat of October 7, it is almost certainly exploring options to strike back, timed for maximum political and psychological impact, particularly when U.S. vulnerabilities are exposed. These calculations are unlikely to be uniform across the regime; rather, they are the subject of intense internal debate among the various factions of power, hardliners, pragmatists, and the security establishment, each weighing the risks, timing, and costs of escalation. For the Islamic Republic, harming American or Israeli interests is not only strategic, it is deeply woven into its revolutionary identity.

Regime change in Iran, and the containment of its regional enablers, is the only path toward stability, sovereignty, and shared prosperity in the MENA region. Stability in the Middle East is incompatible with the survival of the Islamic Republic. The time for half-measures is over. Should Donald Trump choose to fully back this historic moment, by weakening the Iranian regime and accentuating its vulnerabilities and enabling a decisive regional realignment, he could not only reshape the global order but also earn something few would have imagined: the Nobel Peace Prize.

Ghazi Ben Ahmed

Founder and President

Ghazi Ben Ahmed

Founder and President

A small river named Duden flows by their place and supplies it with the necessary

• Phone:+1 (859) 254-6589
• Email:info@example.com

L’article The Case for Regime Change in Iran and the Urgency of Regional Realignment est apparu en premier sur mdi-international.