9/29 to 10/4, 2025

This is This Week, Basically, hosted by Robyn Davies. Every week we skim the chaos of politics, disasters, and oddities, then pour it into something you can actually follow: all in under ten minutes. Think of it as your global digest, trimmed of the fluff but with just enough bite to keep you sharp. Let’s dive in.

This week began with the fall of Damascus.

Just after midnight last December, a small Syrian Air jet lifted off from the military section of the airport, carrying some of the most powerful men of Bashar al-Assad’s regime: the generals, the ministers, the interrogators. They left behind a capital in chaos and a country that, after thirteen years of war, had finally collapsed under its own weight. Assad himself escaped hours earlier. His top lieutenants, men accused of torture, massacres, and chemical attacks, scattered across borders and oceans. Some fled by boat to Lebanon, others hid in the Russian Embassy before being flown to Moscow. Ten months later, they remain ghosts of a vanished state, wanted but not found, their names whispered in refugee camps and courtrooms .

What comes next for Syria is unclear. A new interim government is trying to rebuild and pursue justice, but the scale of the crimes, and the reach of the fugitives, makes accountability feel like another kind of war. Some of the same officers accused of atrocities are reportedly organizing sabotage from exile in Lebanon. Others are living quietly in Russian suburbs, their families posting filtered photos from luxury apartments. The people who suffered under them are now tracking them through phone hacks, property records, and Facebook posts. The hunt for justice, it seems, is as scattered as the country itself.

Thousands of miles away, another project with global symbolism is rising from the ground: this one by design, not destruction. On Chicago’s South Side, the Obama Presidential Center is nearing completion, its 225-foot “Obamalisk” visible from nearly every neighborhood nearby . It’s an $850 million campus meant to redefine what a presidential library can be — less archive, more community hub. There’s a museum, a basketball court, a recording studio, and soon a public branch of the Chicago Library. Barack Obama says he doesn’t want “a mausoleum” but “a living, breathing, dynamic cultural and gathering space.”

The project has had critics since the beginning. Preservationists protested its placement inside historic Jackson Park, warning about gentrification. Historians questioned why it’s privately run, not overseen by the National Archives. But on the South Side, where both Barack and Michelle Obama grew up and met, the construction has sparked a kind of cautious pride. Residents call it both a gift and a gamble: a bet that the same neighborhoods long neglected by city hall can become a new center of civic gravity.

Far from Chicago, a smaller story carried echoes of the same theme — how much control we really have over what rises and falls. In Indonesia, a national program promising free meals for children turned into a disaster when thousands fell sick. Investigators found spoiled rice and unsanitary kitchens across multiple provinces. It was meant to be a showpiece of the president’s social policy. Instead, it’s now a symbol of the country’s fragile public health system and the political risks of rushing good intentions.

In Europe, protests once again filled the streets of Paris, but this time the chants were almost cheerful. “Don’t touch my retirement!” became the winning slogan as France’s government reversed its unpopular pension reforms. The reversal marks a rare victory for organized labor after years of struggle. Older workers waved banners in victory squares while younger activists debated whether the movement’s energy could be redirected toward broader issues — climate, housing, inequality. For a country famous for protest, it was one of those rare weeks when people actually got what they wanted.

Britain, meanwhile, found itself revisiting an older scandal and an older prince. Prince Andrew, stripped of royal duties and reputation after years of allegations, is reportedly moving out of public life altogether. Once among the most visible figures of the royal family, his fall has been slow but steady: titles gone, security withdrawn, friendships evaporated. British tabloids call it “a hard landing.” It’s also a reminder that the monarchy’s survival depends not just on ceremony but on selective memory.

Closer to home, American politics has entered what one columnist called “the quiet part of chaos.” The government shutdown continues into another week, and President Trump shows no urgency to resolve it. Federal workers remain unpaid, services shuttered, and yet the administration frames it as “a recalibration.” Inside the White House, aides insist the standoff is strategic proof that Trump won’t bend. Outside, the strategy looks more like indifference. The longer it lasts, the more people realize how many parts of government they actually rely on.

There were moments of art and survival amid the noise. In Afghanistan, a young singer defied Taliban restrictions to record new music in secret, distributing it online under a pseudonym. Her songs, simple and melodic, have become a quiet form of protest. In Louisiana, playwrights brought Zora Neale Hurston’s long-lost 1920s play to the stage for the first time; a century after it was written and nearly forgotten. And in Los Angeles, experimental musician Sudan Archives released a new album blending violin loops, hip-hop beats, and field recordings from her hometown. “All are welcome,” she said of her sound, “but it’s my universe first.”

Back in Europe, Ukraine is bracing for peace talks without the leverage of new U.S. missiles. Kyiv’s diplomats are preparing for negotiations that feel less like strategy and more like survival. The war has ground on long enough that both sides are weary, but Russia holds the stronger position for now. Ukrainian soldiers describe the situation bluntly: “We fight so we can talk.” The government’s challenge is to turn endurance into bargaining power.

And finally, amid so many collapses and reconstructions, a note from home. In Chicago’s Jackson Park, the sod is down, the saplings are in, and the bronze letters are being fitted onto the new museum’s façade. Workers say they can see the skyline glint through the trees now, the same skyline that once inspired a young community organizer named Barack Obama. The symbolism is almost too neat: something ending, something rising, both unfinished.

That’s This Week, Basically. I’m Robyn Davies. Thanks for listening, and I’ll see you next time.