Feb 09 (Jowhar)- Dowlada Federalka Soomaaliya ayaa si kulul u cambaareysay weeraro ay ciidamada Gurmadka Degdegga ah ay ku qaadeen gaadiid ay dad rayid ah saaran yihiin iyo kolonyo gaadiid ah oo gargaar u sidey dadka ku barakacay dagaalada ka
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Soomaaliya oo cambaareysay weeraro ay kooxda RSF ka geysteen dalka Sudan
Winter Olympics among most geographically demanding global sporting events
Warm Coffee, Cold Wheels: A Day on the Road to Milano-Cortina 2026
There are moments when a steaming cup of espresso feels less like a drink and more like a passport—an entry back into civilization. I watched one athlete cradle his cup like that, content and almost oblivious, while the rest of us trembled on a slope of Italian ineptitude and weather. It is a small scene, but it tells you everything about these Olympics: pockets of comfort and theatre amid long, difficult journeys that connect them.
Thomas Maloney Westgard, a veteran of winter sport circuits and, fittingly, a man with both Norwegian grit and Galway roots, sat in a sunny residency in Predazzo. He sipped coffee, folded into his jumper, and prepared mentally for another run at an Olympic dream. Outside his window the Dolomites glittered like cut crystal. Inside his world, everything felt, for a moment, ordinary.
Not so for a trio of broadcasters who had set out earlier that day. That interview team—cameras, cables, a patient producer and the indomitable Heather Boyle, communications chief for the Olympic Council of Ireland—found themselves in mud and slush, wheels spinning and tempers fraying, a reminder that the 2026 Milano-Cortina Games are as logistically adventurous as they are glamorous.
The Geography of an Unconventional Games
If you’re imagining a compact festival of sport, think again. These Olympics are spread across the Alpine spine of northern Italy—clusters of venues strung out across valleys, passes and resorts. Organisers boast that the competitions will run on renewable energy and that many of the arenas are being reused rather than rebuilt. The trade-off is distance: venues whisper to one another across mountains, separated by more than 500 kilometres of roads, tunnels and, occasionally, bad luck.
“It’s beautiful and it’s maddening,” said Heather Boyle with a laugh, recalling the day she put the car into the sort of manoeuvre that looks much easier when practiced in a Michael Caine film than in a winter storm. “We were 32 minutes away on the sat-nav and 32 hours in our heads. You learn fast what matters: patience, good footwear, and a decidedly stoic mindset.”
Why the spread?
Part of the reason is the IOC’s “new norm” — a push in recent years to reduce costs, carbon and spectacle by reusing existing venues and dispersing events across regions that can host them without constructing entire new cities. The result is a mosaic rather than a monolith: Milan’s urban energy, Cortina’s alpine glamour, Val di Fiemme’s cross-country terrain, Bormio’s steep pistes and Livigno for the snow-hungry endurance events.
- More than 500 km of venues across northern Italy
- Over 100 medal events across roughly 15 sports
- Organizers promise 100% renewable energy for competition venues
- Estimated 2,500–3,000 athletes expected from roughly 80–90 countries
Those figures are estimates and plans evolve, but they are enough to make a traveller wonder: have we shifted the problem from infrastructure to logistics? You lose the compact heartbeat of a single Olympic village, but you gain the revival of places that would otherwise wait decades between major events.
Snow Chains, Espresso and the Face of Local Life
Cortina d’Ampezzo, once the high-society escape of Hollywood and European aristocrats—words like “Living Room of the Famous” still seem to echo off its Art Nouveau facades—has retuned its stage lights. The shops hum. Restaurants stretch to accommodate incoming crowds. On a cool afternoon in Predazzo, Valentina Galvan, originally from Argentina, wipes down the counter of a café and watches the first trickle of international visitors arrive.
“It’s like someone opened the shutters after a long winter,” she said, hands flouring the cloth like a ritual. “For us, for the town, it’s a party. Not just for money—though I won’t deny we hope for good tips—but because you feel part of something. Families from Siberia, teenagers from Spain, a group from Tokyo—all sharing table space and telling stories.”
Tourism that arrives with an event of this size can be a lifeline. But it can also be a pressure test. Roads that have not borne daily Olympic traffic must suddenly become arteries for media buses, equipment lorries, and the caravans of fans. Local authorities have spent months rehearsing, yet no rehearsal ever contains the improvisation of real weather.
Voices from the mountains
“We want the world to see us,” said Carlo Berti, the mayor of a small town en route to one of the ski venues. “We want the business, the winter season extended, our young people to have work. But we also want our streams and our slopes to remain. If the Olympics can balance that, it will be a good legacy.”
Environmentalists are watching the balance with equal parts hope and scepticism. Dr. Elena Rossi, a conservation scientist based in Trento, warns that the promise of renewable energy is meaningful, but not a cure-all: “Energy supply is important, yes, but so are transport emissions, construction impacts and the pressure on alpine ecosystems. Reuse of venues is encouraging, but the footprint of visitors must be managed.”
Small Heroics, Big Stories
Back on that slope, the day’s small heroics felt like a micro-epic. The cameraman, Stuart Halligan, barked directions through teeth chattering with cold. Heather, wrapped in an Olympic hoodie and bobble hat, drove with the kind of pragmatic courage that festivals often demand. When they finally arrived, muddy and triumphant, they didn’t just reach an athlete; they carried a story of ordinary people doing extraordinary things to make a global event work.
“You hear about medals and records,” Thomas told us later, stirring his coffee, “but these moments—meeting the people who fought the weather to bring you the picture—those stay with you. This is about more than sport. It’s about community.”
What do we want the Olympics to be?
That question hangs over Milano-Cortina like a low, persistent cloud. Do we prize compact efficiency, the sense of a single village pulsing 24/7, or do we accept the charm—and the headaches—of a dispersed Games that stitches new entertainment into old towns? Do we celebrate the sustainability talk and then look critically at the road traffic and hotel expansions that follow?
There are no easy answers. But as the first buses rattle along narrow switchbacks, as baristas call out orders in five languages, and as athletes step from warm cabins into the crystalline hush of snow, you begin to understand what these Games are trying to be: an experiment in scale and conscience, a chance to spread economic benefit while testing the limits of regional coordination.
So here’s a question for you, the reader: if you had to choose, would you prefer the theatrical bustle of a single, dense Olympic village, or the dispersed, culturally rich patchwork that Milano-Cortina offers? Both promise spectacle. Both demand compromise. And both—if nothing else—guarantee stories, small and large, about the modern world’s appetite for grand gatherings in fragile places.
𝐒𝐮𝐜𝐮𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐠𝐚 𝐢𝐲𝐨 𝐒𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐨𝐨 𝐊𝐚𝐥𝐚 𝐒𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐢𝐱𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐢𝐬 𝐈𝐬𝐤𝐚𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢
Feb 09(Jowhar)-Magaalada Riyaad, waxaa si rasmi ah loogu kala saxiixday Memorandum of Understanding (MoU) ama is-afgarad ku saabsan iskaashiga dhinaca gaashaandhiga oo ay yeeshaan Wasaaradaha Gaashaandhiga ee Boqortooyada Sucuudi Carabiya iyo Jamhuuriyadda Federaalka Soomaaliya. Heshiiskan ayaa ujeedadiisu tahay in kor loo qaado iskaashiga dhinaca milatariga, amniga, iyo tababarada si loo xoojiyo xasilloonida gobolka.
Shirweynaha 3aad ee Waxbarashada Qaranka oo Muqdisho ka furmay
Feb 09 (Jowhar)-Ra’iisul Wasaaraha Xukuumadda Jamhuuriyadda Federaalka Soomaaliya, Mudane Xamsa Cabdi Barre, ayaa caawa daahfuray Shirweynaha 3aad ee Waxbarashada Qaranka, oo sannadkan diiradda lagu saarayo dib-u-habaynta
Meloni condemns anti-Olympics demonstrators after violent clashes in Milan
The Morning After: Milan’s Glitter, Its Frayed Edges
Milan woke to a strange kind of hush — the kind that arrives after bright fireworks and darker disruptions. On the city’s gleaming boulevards and in the narrow lanes near the Duomo, volunteers in neon vests swept confetti and handed out hot espresso to early-arriving fans. Down in Cortina’s snow-sprinkled chalets, gondolas and chairlifts hummed with athletes and coaches preparing for the day’s events.
But along the margins of that celebratory bustle were scenes that felt ripped from a different script: smashed glass, the smell of smoke lingering in alleys, and a stretch of the national rail system mysteriously crippled, stranding commuters and attendees alike. The first full day of competition at Italy’s Winter Games — a moment meant to showcase the country’s cultural pride and organizational skill — was instead split between jubilation and a bristling political moment.
When Protest and Pageantry Collide
Some 10,000 people took the streets of Milan to protest — a crowd mobilized around housing affordability, environmental concerns connected to the Games, and wider grievances about the way cities change under the weight of mega-events. For many the march was peaceful, a noisy but orderly expression of dissent. For others, it ruptured into chaos.
“We came here because rents are eating us alive,” said Lucia, a 32-year-old barista who joined the demonstration with a cardboard sign. “I love sport, I love my city, but I don’t love seeing neighborhoods turned into short‑term rentals and luxury boxes overnight.”
Police say a fringe group of roughly 100 people broke off from the main march and hurled firecrackers, smoke bombs and bottles at officers. Water cannon were deployed. Six people were detained. City authorities described the troublemakers as a tiny minority whose actions jeopardized months of preparation, while protesters countered that heavy-handed policing can inflame tensions.
“We weren’t expecting to be treated like criminals,” said Matteo, who works in a nearby furniture shop and has lived in Milan his whole life. “But I also don’t agree with throwing things at police. That’s not how you build support.”
Sabotage on the Rails
As if to amplify the drama, engineers and commuters in northern Italy were jolted by deliberate damage to the rail network near Bologna. Railway operators reported three separate incidents at different locations that caused delays of more than two hours on high-speed, Intercity and regional services. No group immediately claimed responsibility for the sabotage.
“A cable cut like that is dangerous — it’s a risk to life and a blow to logistics at a time when precision matters,” said a Trenitalia worker who asked not to be named. He described technicians racing into the night to repair signaling and power systems so athletes, staff and spectators could move between Milan and the mountain venues.
Italy’s high-speed rail network — served by operators like Trenitalia’s Frecciarossa and private company Italo — forms the backbone of intercity travel. Delays ripple quickly, turning a planned two-hour journey into an uncertain odyssey. For the Games, which depend on finely timed transfers and shuttle services, any disruption threatens schedules, hospitality plans and international optics.
Politics, Performance and the Price of Image
From the marble steps of Palazzo Chigi to small cafes in the Brera district, reactions were swift and polarized. Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni publicly condemned the violence and the rail sabotage, framing the unrest as an affront to the host nation’s dignity. “There are those who want to mar Italy’s image,” a senior government source told reporters, echoing the prime minister’s rhetoric that media footage of clashes would overshadow the country’s efforts.
Opposition figures and civil liberties advocates warned against using the incidents to justify sweeping police powers. Italian law enforcement had recently received expanded authorities after violent confrontations at a hard-left protest in Turin left more than 100 officers injured. That event, and the new powers that followed it, still resonate in public debate.
“We must balance security with democratic rights,” said Dr. Elena Ferri, a political sociologist in Milan. “Mega-events always create friction: they accelerate urban change, concentrate resources, and expose social fissures. How a state responds — whether with dialogue or more repression — will be instructive for democracies worldwide.”
Voices from the Ground
Not everyone in the city shared the same view. At a small bakery by the Navigli, owner Paolo shrugged and stirred milk for cappuccinos. “I’m proud we’re hosting,” he said. “The volunteers, the athletes — it brings life back to our streets in winter. But people are exhausted. They see cranes outside the windows and ask where they fit into this new Milan.”
An activist with an environmental collective who gave her name as Sofia described why the protest drew such a diverse crowd. “We’re not protesting athletes or sport,” she insisted. “We’re protesting the model: how public money is funneled, how protected areas get compromised for temporary venues, how residents are priced out.”
What’s at Stake Beyond the Headlines
These clashes are more than a local skirmish. They are a concentrated example of global tensions playing out as cities vie to host international spectacles. From Tokyo to Rio, host cities have grappled with displaced communities, spiraling costs, and environmental trade-offs. The Winter Games in Milan-Cortina were sold as a chance to highlight sustainable alpine tourism and urban hospitality. The protests force a question: can megasporting events be retooled to empower local communities rather than marginalize them?
Consider these realities facing organizers and residents:
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Logistics: The success of the Games hinges on transportation networks that already carry millions of passengers annually. Interruptions can have outsized effects on schedules and safety.
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Housing: Short-term rental markets surge during events, often putting upward pressure on prices in already-tight cities.
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Environment: Alpine terrains are sensitive; temporary infrastructure and increased tourism have long-term footprints.
Questions for the Reader
Is there a way to host global spectacles without sidelining everyday citizens? Can authorities protect both public safety and the right to protest? As you watch highlights of the races and ceremonies, whose stories are you seeing — and whose are missing?
These are not abstract questions. They reverberate in neighborhoods where families make hard choices about rent, in villages up the mountain where businesses hope for seasonal revenue, and in trains rolling slowly back to Bologna after a delay-filled night.
After the Smoke Clears
For now, the Games continue. Volunteers are still smiling at security checkpoints; athletes still focus on times and techniques; broadcasters still frame Italy as backdrop to athletic drama. But the echoes of last night will linger: a reminder that public celebrations can coexist uneasily with public discontent.
In the end, Milan’s story this week is a story about contradiction — about a city that can dazzle the world with fashion and hospitality, and yet still wrestle with the everyday pressures of housing, transit, and civic voice. How we reconcile those forces — with empathy, accountability, and honest public conversation — may be the true legacy of these Games.
Suspect in Russian general’s shooting airlifted to Moscow for questioning
The Night a Shadow Crossed Moscow
It was a cold, ordinary night on the Volokolamsk highway — the kind of stretch where headlights blur into a long, indifferent ribbon and apartment blocks stand like watchful sentinels. At about 12 kilometers from the Kremlin, in a tidy building used to the low hum of city life, a senior figure in Russia’s military intelligence was hit three times with a silenced Makarov. The sound, one neighbour later recalled, was not much louder than a dropped tray — and yet it changed everything.
Lieutenant General Vladimir Alexeyev, 64, deputy head of the GRU, was rushed to hospital. Surgeons operated through the night. His wife, speaking into the narrow world of Russian war bloggers, said he had regained consciousness and could speak — a fragile, human detail in a story otherwise filled with badges, black vans and terse statements.
From Dubai to a Blindfold on a Tarmac
The case took an international turn as Russia announced that a man had been detained in Dubai and flown back to Moscow. The Federal Security Service (FSB) identified him as Lyubomir Korba, a man born in the Ternopil region of Soviet Ukraine in 1960 who now held Russian citizenship. Russian state media showed the familiar scene: masked officers leading a blindfolded figure off a small jet in the dark.
President Vladimir Putin publicly thanked Sheikh Mohamed bin Zayed Al Nahyan of the United Arab Emirates, a rare diplomatic olive branch in a tense year. The UAE, for its part, offered no public detail on how Korba was captured or handed over, leaving the mechanics of his arrest shrouded in official silence.
Who Does Russia Say Was Involved?
Russian investigators quickly painted a picture of a plot with multiple players. They named two alleged accomplices: Viktor Vasin, detained in Moscow, and Zinaida Serebritskaya, who they say escaped to Ukraine. Moscow accused Kyiv of ordering the attack through its intelligence services; Kyiv, through its foreign minister, Andrii Sybiha, flatly denied involvement.
- Suspect extradited from Dubai: Lyubomir Korba (b. 1960, Ternopil)
- Alleged accomplice detained in Moscow: Viktor Vasin
- Alleged accomplice reported to have fled to Ukraine: Zinaida Serebritskaya
Independent verification of details remains difficult. International outlets mirrored the official footage and statements, but journalists on the ground and foreign diplomats emphasized the fog that still hangs over intelligence operations and their narratives.
A Man in the Machine
Alexeyev is not a minor figure. As deputy head of the GRU — Russia’s military intelligence apparatus that runs agents, special forces and clandestine cyber operations — he operated near the nerve centre of a service that has been central to Moscow’s strategy in the Ukraine war. He first entered public view in 2023, shown attempting to calm Yevgeny Prigozhin during the brief Wagner mutiny — a filmed, awkward act of damage control remembered now as a prelude to the mercenary chief’s death in a plane crash later that year.
“He understood how the gears worked,” said a former colleague who asked not to be named. “When people speak of generals, they imagine grand strategy. He was about the far messier, everyday craft of intelligence.” His wounding has been described by some Kremlin critics as a sharp, personal blow to the services that have helped run the war effort.
Shadow Battles: The Campaign Beyond the Front Line
This attack is best understood as a single flashpoint in a wider, shadowy campaign. Since Russia invaded Ukraine in February 2022, a dense web of sabotage, cyberattacks, disinformation and targeted killings has grown between the two states — a modern hybrid war in which civilian neighbourhoods and diplomatic backchannels have become battlefields.
Russian officials say that since December 2024, three other officials of similar rank to Alexeyev have been killed in or near Moscow. Kyiv has at times claimed responsibility for strikes on Russian military leadership; at other moments it has remained publicly silent. The pattern has unnerved both Moscow’s security elite and ordinary residents who now scan their stairwells with a new vigilance.
“It’s like living next to a fault line,” said Olga, a pensioner who was watching television in an apartment several blocks from the scene. “You hope nothing happens and yet you cannot pretend the earth isn’t moving.”
Questions, Theories, and a Thinning Veil of Certainty
Who carried out this attack, and why, is the question that now hums in Moscow’s corridors. Russian authorities say the suspect acted on orders from Ukrainian intelligence. Ukrainian officials reject that claim, with Foreign Minister Sybiha suggesting the possibility of internal Russian infighting. “We don’t know what happened with that particular general — maybe it was their own internal issues,” he said.
To independent analysts, the answer is rarely singular. “These operations serve many purposes,” said Elena Markova, an independent security analyst in London. “They can be tactical — the removal of a particular operative — but they are also psychological operations meant to sow fear, undermine trust and signal capability. The fact that such an attack could occur so close to the Kremlin speaks to gaps in security and to the sophistication of whoever planned it.”
The Bigger Picture
On a global scale, this incident is a reminder that modern conflicts are no longer confined to trenches and tanks. Intelligence services operate transnationally, leveraging safe havens, commercial flights and legal grey zones. The alleged arrest in Dubai and the subsequent diplomatic thank-you between Moscow and Abu Dhabi illustrate how states are entwined in a complex web of cooperation and competition.
Meanwhile, the human toll of the conflict in Ukraine cannot be forgotten: since February 24, 2022, millions have been displaced and estimates — produced by a range of governments and NGOs — point to tens of thousands of casualties on both sides, with infrastructure and communities suffering deep, long-term damage.
What Now?
For Moscow, the immediate priorities are clear: stabilize, investigate and control the narrative. For the family of the wounded general, it is to hope for recovery in a world where the front line can appear in a stairwell. For citizens living in the shadow of those fronts, the attack raises a quieter, more unsettling question: how safe is any life, even so close to the seat of power?
“We are living in a different kind of war,” an anonymous security official told me. “Not just artillery and tanks — but infiltration, misdirection, and personal vulnerability. That’s what makes this so discomfiting.”
As you read this, consider the scale of the new battlefield: it stretches from the cyber-servers of Tallinn to the embassies of the Gulf, from the quiet corridors of apartment complexes to the corridors of power. What does it mean for governance, for diplomacy, for ordinary peoples’ sense of safety when the war can touch a living room, a hospital bed, or a quiet night on a highway?
We will watch, as journalists do, for verified facts — names confirmed, motives tested, evidence produced. For now, the image that lingers is of a blindfolded man on a tarmac, a wounded general in a hospital bed, and a city that thought itself insulated from the sharper edges of this conflict. The question is whether that illusion will last another night.
McSweeney Steps Down as UK Prime Minister’s Chief of Staff
A Resignation That Feels Like an Earthquake
On a raw February morning the corridors of power seemed thinner, the atmosphere more brittle. Morgan McSweeney, the Cork-born strategist who helped shepherd Keir Starmer and Labour back into Downing Street, handed in his resignation as chief of staff — and with it, a chapter of political calm burst wide open.
This was not a neat, managerial departure. It arrived amid leaked files, a police inquiry and a swarm of questions about judgment, vetting and accountability. At the heart of the storm: the decision to nominate Peter Mandelson as Britain’s ambassador to Washington, despite newly published material that highlighted troubling links between Mandelson and the late Jeffrey Epstein.
From County Cork to No.10 — A Story of Ambition and Loyalty
Morgan McSweeney’s rise would read like a political biography: born in Macroom, Co. Cork in 1977, he left for London at 17, cut his teeth in Labour ranks after being inspired by the Good Friday Agreement and slowly became indispensable. Internships at Labour HQ, a stint running the Labour Together think tank to push the party away from the hard-left, and a central role in the election campaign that delivered one of the largest parliamentary majorities in modern British history — these are the landmarks of a career built on restless energy and strategic nous.
“Morgan was the engine,” a long-time Labour organiser who worked alongside him told me. “He was the one who made the campaign feel inevitable. He thinks like a campaigner: tidy, focused, outcome-first. That’s why this hurts.”
The Appointment That Unraveled
The US files revealed on 30 January offered a new seam of trouble. According to material now public, there were exchanges suggesting that Mandelson — a Labour veteran and minister during the financial crisis — had a pattern of communications with Epstein that raised alarms about judgment and influence. Those revelations rekindled memories of a scandal that has never quite left the public imagination.
Police have opened an investigation into potential misconduct in public office, focused on whether sensitive market information was improperly shared during turbulent financial years. For a government that has spent the past 18 months trying to repair its image and claim higher ethical standards, the headlines could not have come at a worse time.
The Parting Statement — Ownership, Remorse, and a Call for Reform
McSweeney did not duck responsibility. In a statement released alongside his resignation, he acknowledged advising the Prime Minister to nominate Mandelson. He said that was the wrong decision and that the appointment had damaged both the party’s standing and public trust in politics. He also urged a fundamental overhaul of vetting procedures.
“I advised the appointment — and I take responsibility for that advice,” he is reported to have said. “We owe it to the people harmed by Epstein’s crimes to listen, and we owe it to the public to make sure this never happens again.” Whether readers take that as sincere contrition or a well-timed escape valve depends on whom you ask.
“It’s partly courage, partly damage control,” said a senior civil servant within Whitehall. “When you’re that close to the centre and the story blows up, people fall on swords. That’s how the machine is designed. But the real question is what changes are coming to make the machine safer and more trustworthy.”
Reactions, Reprisals and the Politics of Blame
Across party lines, the fallout has been immediate. Opposition voices cheered the departure as vindication of their criticism; some on the left and in Labour’s own ranks said McSweeney’s resignation was overdue. Others suggested it was designed to draw a line under the episode and buy the Prime Minister breathing space.
“This is a reminder of how fragile public trust is,” said a former ethics adviser at a Westminster watchdog, speaking on condition of anonymity. “Resignations alone don’t rebuild faith. You need transparent processes, independent oversight and swift, visible reform.”
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Immediate political consequences: McSweeney’s exit leaves a vacuum at the heart of No.10’s political operation and forces a personnel shuffle.
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Institutional consequences: calls for vetting and due diligence reform are growing louder.
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Diplomatic consequences: the possibility of revealing private messages about UK strategy toward the US President threatens international relations.
On the Ground: Voices from Cork to the Commons
In Macroom, a town that has watched its native son climb the greasy pole of London politics, the reaction was mixed. “We’re proud of him for getting there,” said a coffee shop owner who remembers McSweeney as a teenager with a scholarship and a glint in his eye. “But nobody is untouchable. If you get something wrong, you own it.”
At Westminster, colleagues spoke of loyalty. “He has been by Keir’s side through thick and thin,” said a former aide. “There is respect for what he did during the campaign and in opposition. But respect can coexist with disappointment. The optics were dreadful.”
What Comes Next — Personnel, Process and the Bigger Questions
The immediate practical question is who steps into the chief of staff role. Vidhya Alakeson, deputy chief of staff, was mentioned in discussions; others will be quietly interviewed behind closed doors. But the larger question is whether this will force systemic change.
Vetting, once a back-office technicality, has been propelled into the political spotlight. The scandal underscores how appointees’ private connections and past associations can become national crises when not properly assessed. It’s a problem not limited to the UK — nations around the world have wrestled with the balance between political judgment and bureaucratic safeguards.
Are governments now functionally required to publish more of their internal deliberations to rebuild trust? Should there be an independent pre-appointment scrutiny body for senior diplomatic roles? These are not academic questions. They are operational decisions that will shape the public’s confidence in institutions.
Final Notes — Trust, Memory and Political Survival
Politics is a brutal test of endurance. Morgan McSweeney’s departure is both a personal fall and a symptom of a broader crisis: a party that won decisively less than two years ago now grappling with self-inflicted wounds, a veteran figure exposed to a scandal tied to one of the darkest figures of recent history, and a public that watches, increasingly sceptical.
So what should we ask ourselves? Do we demand immediate structural reform, or do we temper our appetite for upheaval with a realistic appraisal of how quickly institutions can change? How much should a leader be judged for the recommendations of trusted lieutenants?
For now, the story is unwinding. But it’s not just about one man’s fall from favour; it’s about how democracies manage messy human ties, how they protect the vulnerable whose voices were long ignored, and how they rebuild the brittle bridge between citizens and those who govern them. That, perhaps, is the true test of leadership.
Ukraine calls for peace talks, insists only Trump can broker deal
At the Edge of Winter and War: Kyiv’s Push for a Leader-Level Breakthrough
On a gray morning beside the Dnipro, where the river moves like a patient promise through Kyiv, urgency is a kind of weather. Inside a modest office that looks out over the water, Ukraine’s diplomatic team is quietly insisting that the next acts in this four-year tragedy must be written at the highest level: face-to-face, leader to leader.
“The hard stuff can only be sorted where leaders can look one another in the eye,” a senior Ukrainian diplomat told me, tapping a desk map as if the lines might change under his fingertips. “We have a list, and most of it is technical. But the remaining points? They’re political, raw and symbolic.”
That rawness explains the bluntness of the claim that has echoed from Kyiv’s corridors: only one person on the world stage, according to some Ukrainian officials, has the leverage to pull Moscow and Kyiv across the table and across the final hurdles—former US President Donald Trump.
Momentum, Midterms and the Tight Calendar
Momentum is a fickle thing. It arrived in Abu Dhabi this week in the form of another round of trilateral talks between the US, Ukraine and Russia, and in a prisoner exchange that saw 314 soldiers walk free—the first such swap since October. Yet when negotiators left the table, there was no declaration of a deal or a final text.
“We don’t have an impasse so much as a narrow, difficult pass,” said a Western negotiator who asked not to be named. “Most items on the 20-point framework are agreed or close. The rest are what historians will call the ‘hard symbolism’—land, sovereignty, and how to guarantee peace.”
Part of the race against time is domestic political: the US congressional mid-terms loom in November, and with them the specter of shifting priorities in Washington. Kyiv wants to convert conversations into binding commitments before electoral currents further complicate an already fragile window.
What’s Left on the Table
The sticking points are as visceral as they are legal. Moscow still demands control—formal or de facto—over territories it has fought to hold, including large swaths of Donetsk. Kyiv refuses to give up what many Ukrainians call the non-negotiable: the territorial integrity of their country and the return of the Crimean Peninsula.
Then there is Zaporizhzhia, Europe’s largest nuclear power plant, sitting in occupied territory and serving as a chilling bargaining chip. “We will not trade our safety for a headline,” said a senior Ukrainian energy official. “Control over Zaporizhzhia cannot be part of a deal that endangers millions.”
For Kyiv, any arrangement must include robust security guarantees after a ceasefire. That is where the Americans—and the shape of American politics—become central. Washington, officials say, is ready to anchor a security “backstop” and even ratify guarantees in Congress, but it is not offering boots on the ground. Instead, the proposed verification architecture would rely on drones, sensors and satellites operated by a coalition of willing states.
What Ukraine wants
- Full withdrawal of Russian forces from occupied Ukrainian territories
- Return of Crimea and non-recognition of Russian sovereignty over the peninsula
- Control and safety guarantees for critical infrastructure, notably Zaporizhzhia
- Western security guarantees and a verification mechanism without foreign occupation
On the Streets: The Human Ledger of War
In Kramatorsk, a shopkeeper named Oksana stood outside her shuttered storefront and pointed to a line of scarred buses along the avenue. The scars were not metaphoric; they were scorch marks and twisted steel from the KAB bombs that reduced whole blocks to black skeletons.
“We want peace,” she said, fingers hooked around a thermos, breath clouding in the cold. “But not at the price of telling our children their home was sold.”
Across Kyiv, where blackout curtains are as common as winter coats, households have learned a new rhythm—charge devices during the day, light candles early, and measure warmth like a precious commodity. Officials say some regions have endured blackouts lasting up to 20 hours as energy and logistics nodes come under repeated attack.
Ukrainian leaders have catalogued the onslaught: in recent weeks Kyiv’s security services reported more than 2,000 attack drones, some 1,200 guided aerial bombs and over a hundred missiles launched into Ukrainian cities and towns. Whether every figure can be independently verified, the scale—combined with targeted hits on power stations—paints a grim portrait.
Sanctions, Sovereignty, and the Risk of Deals Without Kyiv
There are also quiet fears that major deals could be cut without Ukrainian consent. Talk in diplomatic circles of investment packages and ambitious post-war reconstruction sums—figures that some claim have reached into the trillions—has raised the hackles of Kyiv officials.
“Any negotiation about our land, our borders, or our sovereignty without us is not just bad diplomacy; it’s illegal,” said a foreign ministry adviser. “Recognition of the occupation would be legally void and morally unacceptable.”
Ukraine has itself moved to tighten the screws on companies that supply components used in Russian drone and missile production, adding to accumulating sanctions that target foreign intermediaries from the Gulf to East Asia.
Can Global Architecture Hold a Fragile Peace?
When people speak of security guarantees, they mean more than words. They envision something that feels enforceable—an Article Five-like assurance that an attack on Ukraine would trigger a collective response. Western leaders have shied away from exactly such language, preferring instead layered mechanisms: rapid-response logistics, pre-positioned supplies, and legal treaties that could deter aggression without putting foreign troops in harm’s way.
“The world has learned that deterrence does not only come from tanks,” said Dr. Lina Hartmann, a security analyst in Berlin. “It comes from integrated monitoring, from diplomatic credibility, and from the economic costs that will follow any breach.”
Toward a Vote, Toward a Future
Behind closed doors, officials have sketched tentative calendars: a draft deal by March, a referendum in Ukraine perhaps aligned with elections in May. Such a timetable is fraught with risk—both practical and political—but it underscores the desire to pin down a future before the international winds shift.
“We are trying to run a marathon while building the road under our feet,” one Kyiv diplomat said. “It is messy, it is dangerous, and yet it is necessary.”
So where does that leave the ordinary citizen? For many, the calculus is immediate: heat, light, safety for children. For others, there is a deeper question—can a nation rebuild trust after land has been lost and neighbors displaced? How do you forge security guarantees that feel real to someone who remembers shelling at dawn?
These are not merely bargaining chips on a table. They are the contours of people’s lives, the outlines of towns, the memory of loved ones lost and of homes that may or may not be returned. As delegates polish papers and leaders weigh photographs of maps, the people of Ukraine are living the consequences.
And that is why many here press the point that a final settlement must be made where heads of state can commit with their names on the line. Who will be present at that table? Which nations will lend their instruments—legal, technical, and moral—to keep a fragile peace? Those answers will tell us whether this season of negotiation is a true turning point or merely a pause between storms.
Will international architecture—and American political will—be enough to hold the lines drawn? Only time, and perhaps a few courageous conversations in Miami, Abu Dhabi, or Kyiv, will tell.
Xildhibaano iyo Senator laga ganaaxay kulamada wadajirka ee baarlamaanka
Feb 08 (Jowhar)-Kusimaha Guddoomiyaha Ahna Guddoomiye kuxigeenka labaad ee Golaha Shacabka Baarlamaanka BJFS Mudane Cabdullaahi Cumar Abshirow ayaa soo saaray go’aan rasmi ah oo la xiriira ka joojinta fadhiyada guud ee wadajirka ah ee labada Aqal ee Baarlamaanka Dalka iyo sidoo kale fadhiyada Golaha Shacabka.
Portugal’s presidential runoff begins as voters head to the polls
Stormy Ballots: Portugal Votes in a Run-off as Gales and Politics Collide
The morning felt like the end of a long, bruising winter. Waves slammed the seawalls; gulls fought the wind above the harbor; and, in a small school gym converted into a polling station, a woman in a bright yellow raincoat shook her umbrella free of salt and mud before she stepped inside to vote.
Portugal opened its polling stations at 08:00 today for a presidential run-off that, on paper, looks decided. Yet the rhythm of democracy here has been anything but routine. The nation is holding its breath between two powerful currents: the steady advance of a veteran Socialist and the unnerving, if likely doomed, rise of a firebrand from the far right — all while the Atlantic keeps throwing its worst at the coast.
On the ground: a country voting through the storm
Polling crews reported a cautious but steady stream of voters through the morning. Around 11 million people — those at home and abroad — are eligible to cast ballots. First exit polls are expected around 20:00 local time, and although one opinion survey this week placed Socialist António José Seguro as high as 67%, the question many Portuguese are asking on the way to the ballot box is less about percentages and more about how a country recovers when weather and politics collide.
“I had to wait for the bus to show up,” said Marta, a teacher who lives near the mouth of the Mondego River. “My neighbor’s roof was ripped off last week — but I’m voting because these are the decisions that will shape how we rebuild.” Her voice carried both fatigue and determination; the lines between civic duty and personal survival are raw right now.
The storms, which have been sweeping in from the Atlantic since the start of the year, have been relentless. At least five people have died and vast stretches of land stand submerged or scarred. Preliminary government estimates point to roughly €4 billion in overall damage, with the agriculture and forestry sectors alone accounting for about €750 million in losses. More than 26,500 rescue workers have been deployed across the country in response.
Postponed ballots, pressed voters
Despite an overnight easing in the weather in many areas, authorities postponed voting in 14 of the hardest-hit constituencies — a delay affecting nearly 32,000 residents, who will vote one week later. The decision drew an immediate political reaction: André Ventura, the far-right candidate, urged a nationwide postponement, arguing that the scale of the crisis made it impossible to hold a fair election. His call was rejected.
Prime Minister Luís Montenegro described the storms as a “devastating crisis,” but argued that logistics could be overcome and that postponing the entire vote would set a dangerous precedent. Outgoing President Marcelo Rebelo de Sousa, who has weathered his own turbulent years in office, told reporters he had spoken with Ventura and urged that the electoral process proceed — noting that Portugal held its last presidential election even amid the coronavirus pandemic.
The stakes: beyond one election
This run-off is not only a contest between two men. It is a barometer of mood: whether a country traditionally anchored in moderation will drift toward the kind of nationalist, populist currents that have risen elsewhere in Europe. Ventura’s Chega party has polarized political conversation in Portugal, and even in a likely defeat his share of the vote will be closely watched as an indicator of how the far right fares in a European landscape where migration, inflation and cultural anxieties continue to produce volatile politics.
“The far right here is not a monolith,” said Dr. Maria Correia, a political scientist who studies Iberian politics. “Some voters are drawn by a message of security and national identity, others by anger at economic stagnation or a sense of being left behind. The storms complicate everything: they make tangible the consequences of policy choices on infrastructure and climate resilience. That changes the politics of the moment.”
For many voters, the calculus is personal and local. In the Alentejo plains, where cork and olive groves now lie submerged or torn, farmers are tallying immediate losses. In coastal towns, fishermen bemoan the ruined nets and battered boats. These are not abstract policy debates; they will shape livelihoods for years.
Voices from the floodlines
“My son and I spent last night moving boxes to the attic,” said João Silva, a retired carpenter from the central coast, gesturing to a line of sandbags outside his house. “We don’t agree on who to vote for, but we agree we need leaders who can plan for storms like this, not just talk about them.”
At a shelter in a community center, volunteers handed out hot soup and wrapped people in donated blankets. A young volunteer named Inês watched as an elderly woman knitted by the heater. “It’s strange — people are tired, angry sometimes, but also kind,” she said. “This country knows how to stand up when it falls.”
Numbers that matter
Here are the key figures to keep in mind today:
- Eligible voters: approximately 11 million (domestic and abroad)
- Postponed constituencies: 14 — affecting nearly 32,000 voters
- Storm fatalities reported: at least 5
- Estimated total damage: ~€4 billion
- Agriculture and forestry preliminary losses: ~€750 million
- Rescue workers deployed: ~26,500
What to watch as night falls
Beyond the headline outcome — whether Seguro wins decisively or Ventura narrows the gap — there are subtler measures that will matter. Turnout in affected regions, the margin of victory in rural versus urban centers, and whether the postponed ballots change momentum when they are cast next week will all say something about political energy and resilience.
Internationally, observers will be attuned to how Portugal’s weather catastrophe intersects with political sentiment. Are voters more likely to back pragmatic, institution-oriented candidates after a disaster? Or do crises accelerate polarization, driving people toward extremes? The answers will ripple beyond Portuguese borders.
Facing forward
As the day folds into evening and the first exit polls come in, Portugal will confront a familiar mix of hope and weariness. Rebuilding after a storm — whether infrastructure, confidence, or political consensus — is a long haul. Decisions made at the ballot box today will influence how quickly that rebuilding begins, and who pays for it.
So what does democracy look like when a country is soaked, shivering and still in line to vote? It looks like Marta in her yellow raincoat. It looks like volunteers turning community centers into shelters. It looks like a nation arguing, nervously and loudly, about identity, leadership and the safety nets that matter most when the sea comes calling.
Will the storm change the outcome? Or merely the texture of a victory? Tonight, Portugal will start to answer that question — with the wind still rolling in from the Atlantic and the work of repair already underway.
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