why Poland and Hungry are against Immigrants? why are they opposing the new law in the EU parliament?

 Poland and Hungary have been opposing the new deal to revamp the European Union's rules on the reception and relocation of asylum seekers

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. The deal was endorsed by a qualified majority, meaning Poland and Hungary, the only two member states who opposed the final draft, were unable to exercise their veto power, as they have previously done in matters of taxation and foreign policy
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. The two countries have been objecting to the EU's proposal to reform asylum policies and have refused to accept migrant quotas imposed by the EU in 2015
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. They have also been against the EU's migration policies and have been accused of breaking EU laws by refusing to take in asylum seekers coming to the European Union during the chaotic summer of 2015
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.The reasons behind Poland and Hungary's opposition to immigrants are not entirely clear. However, it is known that both countries have been taking a strong anti-immigrant stance and have been promoting nationalist policies
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. They have been arguing that the EU's migration policies are a threat to their national sovereignty and that they should have the right to decide who enters their countries
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. They have also been claiming that the EU's policies are unfair and that they are being forced to take in more migrants than they can handle
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.In summary, Poland and Hungary have been opposing the new law in the EU parliament because they are against the EU's migration policies and believe that they should have the right to decide who enters their countries. They have been promoting nationalist policies and arguing that the EU's policies are a threat to their national sovereignty.
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The Most Expensive American Export Is No Longer Weapons. It Is Reconstruction. I still remember standing outside a bank in Karachi after the invasion of Iraq. A customer looked at the television in the waiting area and muttered, "They will destroy it first. Then they will pay to rebuild it." The sentence sounded cynical at the time. Twenty years later, it feels less like sarcasm and more like a description of modern American statecraft. Wars do not end when the guns fall silent. They simply enter a different accounting ledger. Newspapers move on. Treasury departments do not. Many people think the largest cost of war appears in the defence budget. They miss the second invoice. Reconstruction, humanitarian assistance, security training, debt relief, refugee support, and institutional rebuilding often continue for years, sometimes decades, long after soldiers return home and television cameras disappear from the streets where the fighting once dominated every headline. The United States did not invent reconstruction. The Marshall Plan remains one of the most successful foreign assistance programmes in modern history because Washington rebuilt Western Europe after the Second World War while strengthening its own strategic position against the Soviet Union. American policymakers concluded that rebuilding allies cost less than allowing political collapse across a continent already exhausted by war. History changed. The machinery survived. Afghanistan exposed how reconstruction can grow into an industry of its own. The United States and its partners spent vast sums attempting to build ministries, train security forces, improve infrastructure, and create institutions that could survive after foreign troops departed, yet the Taliban returned to Kabul in August 2021 with astonishing speed, leaving taxpayers to wonder how two decades of investment had produced such fragile foundations. Iraq followed a similar pattern, although the circumstances differed. Washington financed military operations. It also financed reconstruction after toppling Saddam Hussein in 2003, and billions flowed into projects that ranged from electricity generation to water systems, while corruption, insecurity, and political fragmentation repeatedly undermined the objectives those funds were supposed to achieve. I have never accepted the comforting phrase that reconstruction represents generosity. It often represents an admission. Governments rarely rebuild countries they never helped to break, and that uncomfortable truth disappears beneath diplomatic language designed to soften public memory. Military campaigns create physical destruction. Political leaders then inherit a second obligation. Roads need repair. Hospitals reopen. Civil servants require salaries. Police forces demand equipment. None of those expenses produce dramatic headlines, yet they continue draining public finances long after victory speeches fade into archives. Washington has normalised this sequence. Intervention begins with military planning. Reconstruction arrives almost automatically because the alternative carries strategic risks that officials find even harder to accept, including state collapse, regional instability, or extremist groups filling the vacuum left by broken governments. Many analysts describe reconstruction as an act of compassion. I think they stop too early. Reconstruction also protects the credibility of intervention itself because governments struggle to defend military campaigns if the countries left behind descend into permanent disorder, and taxpayers become responsible for preserving that credibility through another round of extraordinary spending. One afternoon, I watched labourers repairing a broken road near Karachi's old commercial district. Traffic slowed. Dust hung in the air. A shopkeeper laughed and said, "Fixing always costs more than building." He spoke about a street outside his business. The sentence applies with unsettling accuracy to foreign policy. American power increasingly carries two expectations. It can destroy. It must also repair. Few empires accepted both burdens on such a scale, and even fewer attempted to finance them through borrowed money while convincing citizens that the bill represented an investment in future security. Political leaders often describe war as a temporary emergency. Reconstruction refuses to remain temporary. It enters annual budgets, congressional hearings, inspector general reports, and public debt calculations that outlive the presidents who authorised the original military action. From Karachi, I keep returning to the same conclusion. Washington exports missiles with remarkable efficiency. Its costliest export arrives later, wrapped in development contracts, reconstruction plans, and emergency appropriations that quietly outlast the war itself. The bombs may define the conflict, yet the rebuilding defines the century that follows.

  ​I still remember standing outside a bank in Karachi shortly after the 2003 invasion of Iraq. A customer looked up at the waiting area te...