Violence has reignited in fractured Syria, with clashes between forces allied with the new Islamist regime and fighters from one of the country's religious minorities.

Dozens of members of the Druze community have been killed in skirmishes with pro-government forces near Syria's southern border with Israel, according to UK-based war monitoring service the Syrian Observatory for Human Rights. In response, Israel has carried out strikes across Syria, including near the presidential palace in Damascus earlier this month.

Who are the Druze?
A religious and ethnic Arab minority, originally an offshoot of Islam. The "unique" group dates back to the 11th century and follows a belief system that incorporates elements of Islam, Hinduism and even classical Greek philosophy, said the Pew Research Center.

There are an estimated 700,000 Druze in Syria, making them the country's third-largest religious group. Israel and the Palestinian territories are home to a further 150,000 Druze, most of whom hold Israeli citizenship and are subject to its military draft, according to New Lines. Druze make up less than 2% of Israel's population but have "the highest rate of enlistment", with 80% signing up.

The situation is more "complicated" in the Golan Heights, a majority-Druze area annexed from Syria by Israel. There, most have repeatedly refused Israeli citizenship and "consider themselves Syrian".

Why are they being targeted now?
When he appointed himself Syria's interim president, Ahmed al-Sharaa vowed that religious minorities would be protected. But Syria has been bristling with sectarian tension. The most recent clash with Druze fighters was "sparked by a voice recording attributed to a Druze man" who was "ostensibly cursing the Prophet Mohammed", said France 24. Druze leaders say the clip, which was widely shared online, was "fabricated".

Why is Israel getting involved?
From a purely strategic viewpoint, maintaining the stability of the Druze is seen as "critical" for Israel's national security, said the Israeli non-profit Alma Research and Education Center. Weakened minority groups "often become clients of hostile jihadist forces". Israel's "hard-learned lesson" from the 7 October massacre is that "allowing a jihadist monster to grow unchecked at the border is unacceptable".

Israel's motivation is at least partially humanitarian, too. The Druze population in Israel is "deeply integrated into its national and defence fabric" and has "consistently demonstrated loyalty to the state". 

"It's a scene played out in community centres up and down the country," said Katie Rosseinsky in The Independent. "A cluster of people, most of them women, inevitably, are nervously waiting to stand on the scales in front of their peers." 

Set-ups like this were once a "defining part of diet culture". But they may soon seem like an "archaic throwback" after WeightWatchers, the US company that dominated the diet industry for more than six decades, filed for bankruptcy.

'Comically old-fashioned'
The "most obvious culprit" behind the company's "dramatic change in fortunes" is the rise of Ozempic and similar drugs, which have "transformed" the way we approach weight loss, said Rosseinsky. This has "turned the diet industry upside down, and left more traditional brands struggling to keep up".

Some of the advice dished out by the WeightWatchers diet plan now seems "comically old-fashioned", said Zing Tsjeng in The i Paper. Members agreed to adhere to a points-based system under which each food is assigned a score based on its nutritional value. Bananas, for example, "were believed to be too carb-heavy and high-calorie", according to a 1980s diet plan.

This numbers-based approach "did work for some people". A 2017 study published in The Lancet found that 57% of participants lost weight after a 52-week trial of the WeightWatchers programme. But for millions of others, it introduced the idea of food as something to be handled "like a radioactive substance".

A 'new wave' of diet culture
WeightWatchers is said to be in $1.15 billion (£863 million) worth of debt, which will be written off as it formulates a plan to pay back its lenders. The company insists it is "here to stay" and there will be "no impact to members".

But this is "more than just a business story", said Eva Wiseman in The Observer. It's a story about "what happens when dieting goes out of fashion, but being thin remains more important than ever".

The decline of WeightWatchers isn't a "win" for those who rail against our society's slimming obsession, said Glamour. It "marks the dominance of a new wave", where "skinniness is more glorified than ever, and the ways of achieving it feel more in reach for the masses". Diet culture has "armed itself with a syringe" and "no longer needs the henchmen of WeightWatchers".

From K-pop to kimchi, recent years have seen a boom in "all things Korean", said the Financial Times. Now, soju is having a moment, with the "signature green-glass bottles" of fermented rice wine appearing on supermarket shelves worldwide.

The distilled spirit dates back around 2,000 years to the Three Kingdoms period of Korean history. Traditionally, soju was crafted from fermented rice but it can also be made from other starchy ingredients like sweet potato and tapioca. The alcohol content ranges from 12% to 25% abv, and it's often sweetened, resulting in a spirit that tastes like an "easy-drinking version of vodka".

In Korean culture, sharing a bottle of soju with friends is a "time-honoured ritual". It's commonly used in cocktails: one of the most popular is somaek, a shot of soju dropped into a glass of beer.

Typically served chilled in shot glasses, artisanal soju can be sipped neat and makes an excellent accompaniment to grilled meats, stews and seafood, said Good Housekeeping. It's also "fantastic" in a soju and tonic or dirty martini and makes a refreshing lower-abv alternative to gin and vodka.

The biggest brand by far in the UK is Jinro, Korea's bestselling soju. It's popping up at music festivals across the country as the distiller attempts to tap into a younger audience.

Why are we closing our eyes to Gaza's horror?
Matthew Parris in The Times
"Does the world look away" from Gaza because we are "simply bored", writes Matthew Parris, "or do we flinch from the wreckage, the famine and the blood"? "All hell is being rained down" on two million people by our "close ally" Israel. "I know very well that nothing Britain could do is likely to alter a grim future" in the Palestinian enclave, but we must still "shout: 'Stop!'"

Why 'Make Hollywood Great Again' makes sense
Rana Foroohar in the Financial Times
The notion that the US film business needs protecting "seems bonkers", so Donald Trump's "tariff protection for Hollywood" has met with "the usual dismissive scepticism", writes Rana Foroohar. But though it may be "flawed economically", it's "smart politically": anxieties about "cheap foreign competition" and the rise of artificial intelligence extend well beyond California. Trump "can cultivate a larger political base with promises to keep foreigners and automation away".

Why don't men ask questions?
Mary Wakefield in The Spectator
Heterosexual women "crave a man who asks the most insightful, probing questions", writes Mary Wakefield, but most of us will have found ourselves wondering "when on earth" our man "is going to get round to asking" us anything. It's "heartbreaking", this "divide between the sexes". Listen to how "men talk to each other" and you'll see: it isn't that they "forget to ask questions", it's just "not their idea of fun".