When Marvel’s Thunderbolts rolled into theatres, many fans expected a darker, grittier take on the superhero formula. What they didn’t expect was a film that, beneath the explosions and betrayals, served as a mirror to today’s political world. As the Thunderbolts transition from a rogue team of misfits into the MCU’s newly minted “New Avengers,” the film raises uncomfortable questions about leadership, power, and accountability—questions that feel eerily familiar in our own geopolitical landscape.

At its core, Thunderbolts is about image control. By the film’s end, the battered, manipulated team—Yelena Belova, Bucky Barnes, U.S. Agent, Red Guardian, Ghost, and Sentry—are paraded before cameras as the next iteration of the Avengers. It’s a PR victory orchestrated by CIA Director Valentina Allegra de Fontaine, spinning a botched black-ops mission into a heroic narrative. It’s the ultimate political sleight of hand: rebranding failure into triumph, rewriting a messy past for public consumption.

In this, the film parallels real-world examples of governments repackaging controversial operations. Think of military interventions framed as “humanitarian missions,” or secret programs rebranded to deflect public outrage. Whether it’s NATO airstrikes in Libya or surveillance revelations from the Snowden leaks, the political playbook is clear: control the narrative, and you control the perception of legitimacy.

Each Avenger, a Political Archetype

The characters themselves embody political ideologies that clash and intertwine, reflecting the fractured alliances of today’s world.

– Yelena Belova, driven by disillusionment with state power, represents the individual who distrusts institutions but feels morally compelled to act. She’s the dissident who doesn’t fully reject the system but can’t forget its betrayals—a mirror to activists caught between reform and revolution.

– John Walker (U.S. Agent) is the embodiment of American exceptionalism, wielding patriotism as both shield and weapon. His loyalty isn’t to ideals but to the flag—a reminder of how nationalism can blur into authoritarianism when tied too tightly to identity.

– Bucky Barnes, the former Winter Soldier, stands for nations haunted by their past crimes, trying to atone while carrying scars others won’t let them forget. His struggle mirrors post-war Germany or Japan, balancing guilt, responsibility, and reluctant leadership.

– Red Guardian is a relic of the Cold War, an echo of a time when ideological rivalry defined the world. He’s charming, bombastic, and nostalgic for a Soviet past—a nod to Russia’s own uneasy relationship with its imperial history.

– Ghost, phasing in and out of visibility, reflects the marginalised, those invisible to power structures yet shaped by their experiments. She’s the product of institutional abuse, similar to communities left behind by globalisation, forced to survive on the fringes.

– And then there’s Sentry—the most potent metaphor of all. With immense power and an alter ego, The Void, that embodies his destructive impulses, Sentry is the nuclear arsenal of the group: both saviour and existential threat. His very existence demands containment, regulation, and vigilance—a chilling echo of today’s fears around AI, biotech, and weapons of mass destruction.

A New Avengers for a Multipolar World

Unlike the idealistic Avengers of the past, this team is messy, compromised, and morally grey. Their formation speaks less to unity than to political necessity—much like modern alliances that paper over ideological differences to counter common threats. The G7, NATO, or even climate coalitions often pull together uneasy partners not because they trust one another, but because the alternative is chaos.

The Thunderbolts’ transition into the New Avengers mirrors how global powers seek soft power legitimacy even as they engage in hard power manoeuvres. The branding exercise orchestrated by de Fontaine feels like a Marvel stand-in for public diplomacy campaigns—similar to Russia’s RT, China’s CGTN, or the US’s Voice of America—tools to shape international perception without changing underlying realities.

The film’s ending also poses a chilling question: if these are the heroes we’re being sold, who benefits from calling them heroes? And at what cost?

Historical Parallels and Current Affairs

Thunderbolts evokes echoes of Cold War covert operations, from the CIA’s coups in Latin America to the KGB’s clandestine sabotage. Just as the Thunderbolts are sent on morally dubious missions under the cover of plausible deniability, history is littered with proxy wars, black ops, and state-sanctioned assassinations that leaders later disavowed or rebranded.

The narrative also speaks to today’s blurred lines between public and private power. Valentina Allegra de Fontaine’s manipulation of the team recalls the increasing influence of intelligence agencies, military contractors, and tech billionaires in national security. It raises uncomfortable parallels to figures like Erik Prince or Elon Musk, whose private decisions reverberate on geopolitical stages.

And then there’s the spectre of narrative warfare. In a world where governments wage information campaigns alongside military ones, controlling the story is half the battle. Whether it’s Russian disinformation during elections, or China’s revisionist history of the South China Sea, the truth is increasingly contested terrain.

Thunderbolts doesn’t give easy answers. It shows a world where heroes are forged not in righteousness, but in expediency. Where leadership is compromised by political calculation. Where accountability is more branding exercise than moral reckoning.

The Politics of Entertainment

By weaving these themes into its narrative, Thunderbolts doesn’t just entertain—it invites reflection. It asks viewers to question who holds power, who gets to define heroism, and whether ends truly justify means. It’s a film about second chances, but also about how those chances are manufactured, marketed, and manipulated.

In the end, Thunderbolts holds up a dark, cracked mirror. And in its reflection, we see not just Marvel’s world—but our own.

The 2025 Met Gala, held on May 5, 2025 at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City, was a dazzling celebration of Black fashion and culture. Themed “Superfine: Tailoring Black Style,” the event honored the rich history of Black dandyism and its influence on contemporary fashion. Co-chaired by Lewis Hamilton, Colman Domingo, Pharrell Williams, and A$AP Rocky, the gala showcased a myriad of tailored ensembles that paid homage to the theme’s emphasis on individuality and cultural expression.

Rihanna made a memorable entrance, revealing her third pregnancy in a bold Marc Jacobs ensemble. Her outfit featured a cropped suit jacket, wool bustier, and a pinstripe skirt with a sculptural bustle, accessorized with two-tone heels, a dramatic hat, and a polka-dot cravat. A$AP Rocky complemented her look in a custom Awge suit, carrying a diamond-adorned umbrella as a nod to his Harlem roots.

Diana Ross captivated attendees with a silver sparkling dress and an 18-foot feathered stole embroidered with the names of her descendants, embodying both glamour and familial pride.

Zendaya turned heads in a minimalist white Louis Vuitton three-piece suit designed by Pharrell Williams, exuding sophistication and aligning perfectly with the evening’s theme. Tracee Ellis Ross embraced the theme with a voluminous pink pantsuit by Marc Jacobs, paired with a matching wide-brimmed hat, describing her look as “animated joy and artistry.”

Colman Domingo paid tribute to the late André Leon Talley with a regal blue Valentino cape featuring a metallic collar, layered over a black and white tweed suit. Teyana Taylor showcased a self-designed ensemble co-created with Ruth E. Carter, featuring a pinstriped suit, red velvet waistcoat, long frock coat, and dramatic accessories, including a cape, fedora, and scepter. Other notable appearances included Janelle Monáe in a layered pinstriped suit evoking Cubism, and Doja Cat in a bold Marc Jacobs ensemble inspired by 1980s zoot suits.

The event also marked the debut of the Costume Institute’s exhibition “Superfine: Tailoring Black Style,” which explores the evolution of Black fashion and its role in cultural identity. Bollywood’s presence at the 2025 Met Gala was both significant and stylish, with several Indian celebrities making impactful appearances. Making his Met Gala debut, Shah Rukh Khan donned a custom black sherwani by Sabyasachi Mukherjee, featuring intricate embroidery and accessorized with a jeweled brooch, talismanic chains, and an 18k gold cane, embodying a fusion of Indian royal aesthetics and contemporary fashion.  A Met Gala veteran, Chopra Jonas returned in a retro-inspired white Balmain outfit adorned with black polka dots. She accessorized with a wide-brimmed hat and a stunning 241-carat Bulgari Magnus Emerald pendant, exuding vintage charm and modern elegance. 

Debuting at the Met Gala, Advani wore a Gaurav Gupta couture piece—a sleek black gown with an antique gold breastplate adorned with crystals and droplets. The ensemble symbolized motherhood and was designed prior to her pregnancy announcement. The Punjabi singer and actor Diljit Dosanjh embraced his cultural roots in a Prabal Gurung ensemble, complete with traditional accessories and motifs, including the Mool Mantra and the map of Punjab, making a powerful cultural statement. Overall, the 2025 Met Gala was a testament to the power of fashion as a medium for storytelling, resistance, and celebration of Black culture.

When U.S. troops scrambled out of Afghanistan in August 2021, the world watched footage of helicopters leaving the embassy rooftop, desperate crowds at Kabul airport, and the Taliban streaming into the capital. But what went largely unnoticed in those chaotic final days was the real treasure left behind — nearly one million weapons and military gear, from M4 rifles to Humvees, night-vision goggles to ammunition stockpiles.

And just like a scene from Lord of War or American Made, those weapons didn’t sit idle for long.

In the 2017 film American Made, Tom Cruise plays Barry Seal, a TWA pilot turned CIA smuggler, ferrying guns to Central America — not out of political conviction, but for cold, hard cash. It’s a story about how war and profit intertwine, where ideology takes a backseat to opportunity. Fast forward to Kabul, and the same principle applies: weapons abandoned by U.S. forces were never about ideology for those who grabbed them — they were about profit.

According to a UN Security Council briefing held behind closed doors in Doha, Taliban representatives admitted that nearly half a million of those weapons are “unaccounted for.” Independent analysis confirms the scale of the loss. While Taliban fighters posed with captured U.S. rifles and Humvees for propaganda, the real action was unfolding quietly, in back rooms and encrypted chats, where weapons were being sold to the highest bidder.

The arms didn’t stay in Afghanistan. They spread — like oil on water — into Pakistan, Uzbekistan, Yemen, and beyond. A February 2024 UN report listed militant buyers including Tehreek-e-Taliban Pakistan (TTP), the Islamic Movement of Uzbekistan, and Yemen’s Houthi rebels. But in truth, the guns traveled not because of shared extremist causes, but because they were lucrative commodities.

Just like Barry Seal’s contraband flights, the black market arms trade is first and foremost a business.

That reality has surfaced in seizures across the region. In July 2023, Syrian authorities intercepted a large shipment of weapons bound for Sweida — a flashpoint for militia activity. Though the origins of the shipment weren’t officially revealed, independent analysts spotted U.S.-manufactured serials and models tracing back to Afghan stockpiles. Meanwhile, in Saudi Arabia, customs agents announced a stunning bust: narcotics, tobacco, and weapons seized in a single convoy, blending arms smuggling with broader illicit trades.

In Lebanon, security forces arrested smugglers attempting to sneak guns across the porous Syrian border. And perhaps most tellingly, UAE authorities foiled a plot to transfer weapons and military equipment to Sudanese armed factions, where civil war rages. All these shipments were part of a murky transnational web — not driven by ideology, but by profit motives as old as war itself.

It’s an uncomfortable truth often glossed over in policy debates: most arms smuggling isn’t ideological. It’s transactional.

In Lord of War, Nicolas Cage’s character Yuri Orlov delivers a chilling monologue: “There are over 550 million firearms in worldwide circulation. That’s one firearm for every twelve people on the planet. The only question is: how do we arm the other eleven?” The Taliban may not have seen themselves as arms dealers, but by sitting on an arsenal of American-made firepower, they had a seller’s advantage.

Indeed, Taliban commanders were reportedly allowed to keep up to 20% of captured U.S. arms for “personal use.” But personal use soon turned into personal sales. By 2022, weapons that had once been openly hawked in Kandahar’s famous arms bazaars were moving quietly through WhatsApp and Telegram groups, where encryption provided a safe marketplace. Buyers? Not just Afghan factions, but foreign militias willing to pay premium prices.

Taliban spokesman Hamdullah Fitrat denies smuggling allegations, insisting all weapons remain “securely stored.” But visuals tell a different story: from fighters holding M4 rifles in Yemen to U.S.-origin Humvees appearing in Sudanese desert convoys.

The U.S. Special Inspector General for Afghanistan Reconstruction (SIGAR) admits it lost track of most of the equipment due to years of inconsistent tracking and poor coordination between agencies. John Sopko, the former SIGAR chief, warned that trying to retrieve the weapons was now “next to impossible.” Meanwhile, former President Donald Trump has harped on a figure of $85 billion in lost military gear — a figure inflated to include salaries and infrastructure, but nonetheless politically potent.

Still, beyond the political posturing, a deeper pattern is emerging: the U.S. inadvertently stocked the world’s most dangerous flea market.

And like the smuggling depicted in American Made — where government-sanctioned operations morph into rogue profiteering — the line between war spoils and illicit arms deals became blurred. While policy makers framed Afghanistan’s collapse in terms of governance and security, smugglers framed it in terms of supply and demand.

The weapons didn’t leave Afghanistan because of ideology. They left because buyers were ready, routes were open, and sellers — whether Taliban or corrupt commanders — saw an opportunity to cash in.

Some arms ended up reinforcing ideological battles: in the hands of al-Qaeda affiliates, or militias fighting for sectarian causes. But many more likely wound up with whoever paid in cash, gold, or trade goods. In the black market, the creed isn’t jihad or nationalism; it’s profit margin.

That reality complicates international responses. How do you disrupt a trade that’s decentralized, entrepreneurial, and thriving on encrypted platforms? Unlike Cold War arms pipelines that followed state allegiances, today’s flows are opportunistic, nimble, and pragmatic. A broker in Kandahar sells to a Yemeni smuggler, who offloads to a Sudanese militia, no questions asked.

For regional powers like Saudi Arabia, the UAE, and Egypt, the concern isn’t just that terrorists get weapons. It’s that anyone — a warlord, a cartel, a political rival — can suddenly become a militarized actor with U.S.-grade firepower.

As shipments continue to be seized from Syria to Sudan, one thing is clear: the Afghan arsenal is now a regional stockpile for whoever pays. And like the arms runners of Lord of War or American Made, those moving the weapons don’t necessarily care what the guns will be used for — only what they’re worth.

It’s a cautionary tale echoing through history: wars end, but weapons linger, traded and resold, long after the flags change and the treaties are signed. Afghanistan’s abandoned stockpile is the latest chapter in that grim tradition.

And somewhere, in a dusty backroom or a WhatsApp chat, a middleman counts cash over a crate of American rifles, unconcerned whether they’ll fuel a jihad, a coup, or just the next black-market deal.