Nov 23(Jowhar)-Madasha Samatabixinta Soomaaliyeed ayaa ku kala qeybsan muddo kordhinta ay raadineysa Villa Soomaaliya.
Annexing the West Bank risks Israel losing all US support
A Warning from Washington: “Lose Our Support” — and What That Could Mean
On a warm afternoon that felt more like late spring than the political winter blowing through the region, an unmistakable line was drawn in words: the United States would walk away. In a recent interview, former President Donald Trump told Time magazine that if Israel moved to formally annex parts of the occupied West Bank, “Israel would lose all of its support from the United States if that happened.”
The sentence landed like a thunderclap in capitals from Tel Aviv to Riyadh to Ramallah. It was not just a diplomatic rebuke; it was also a reminder that alliances are conditional, fragile, and—above all—political. Within days, senior U.S. officials were on the ground in Israel, scrambling to translate rhetoric into reassurance, or restraint.
Diplomacy on the Move: Jets, Envoys, and a Fragile Ceasefire
Vice President J.D. Vance concluded a three-day visit in Tel Aviv, Secretary of State Marco Rubio arrived to add his voice, and others have been dispatched in what looks like a sprint to shore up a ceasefire that many feared would unravel. “We felt the urgency,” a U.S. official told one small briefing. “This is not theater. It’s damage control.”
Those trips come against the backdrop of a ceasefire that, while welcomed, has been porous. The first phase included the return of some of the hostages taken on 7 October 2023 and a partial withdrawal of Israeli forces. But repeated skirmishes—gunfire and localized explosions—have tested the pact’s fabric and the patience of populations on both sides.
On the Ground: Voices from a Fractured Landscape
Walk the dusty alleys of a West Bank town like Hebron and you hear something like disbelief. “We already feel invisible,” says Fatima, a schoolteacher, leaning against a hummus-stained wall as children chase one another around a courtyard. “If they annex our land, where does that leave us? Citizenship? Rights? Or just maps that say someone else owns our lives?”
In an Israeli settlement on the outskirts of Ariel, a young father named Eitan speaks with a different urgency. “Security comes first,” he says. “We built here. We work here. We need clarity. If annexation brings stability and recognition, then what’s the problem?”
These contrasting refrains—fright and entitlement, hope and fear—are not mere soundbites. They are the lived textures of people whose daily routines are interlaced with checkpoints, commute times, school closures, and the memory of violence. They are the kind of details that rarely make front-page diplomatic statements but determine whether any peace can be durable.
Politics in Parliament: Bills, Stunts, and the Risk to a Truce
While U.S. envoys traveled, members of the Israeli Knesset advanced two bills that would legally pave the way for annexation. For critics in Washington and beyond, the timing was baffling: why push such legislation while fragile hostage exchanges and prisoner swaps were being negotiated?
“It’s a very stupid political stunt and I personally take some insult to it,” Vice-President Vance said bluntly during his visit—an unusually direct rebuke from an ally whose administration has historically been close to Israel.
Why the Annexation Debate Matters
At stake is more than a line on a map. Annexation would touch on the legality of occupation, the future of two peoples who share a single geography, and the international consensus that has long supported negotiations as the route to a two-state solution. It could also imperil recent warm ties between Israel and a growing list of Arab states under the Abraham Accords—an array of pacts that have reshaped Middle Eastern geopolitics in recent years.
Former President Trump expressed optimism that Saudi Arabia might join the accords by the end of the year, saying Riyadh no longer had “a Gaza problem” or “an Iran problem” in the same way it had before. Whether those calculations hold is another question entirely.
A Prisoner in the Middle: Marwan Barghouti and the Currency of Hope
Amid these high-stakes negotiations, Mr. Trump told Time he was weighing whether to push for the release of Marwan Barghouti—a Fatah leader serving multiple life sentences and a symbolic figure for many Palestinians. Barghouti’s name has surfaced repeatedly as part of proposed prisoner exchanges with Hamas and other factions.
“Barghouti is not just a name,” explains Rana al-Quds, a political analyst based in Ramallah. “He is a narrative. For some Palestinians, his release would be validation; for Israelis, it could be a political risk. Decisions like this demonstrate how human lives—and longstanding grievances—get traded in diplomatic deals.”
The Human Toll: Numbers That Shouldn’t Be Just Numbers
The 7 October 2023 Hamas attack, which Israeli authorities say killed some 1,200 people, and the subsequent Israeli military campaign have exacted an enormous human price. Gaza health authorities report more than 68,000 people killed and vast swathes of urban areas reduced to rubble. Hospitals, schools, and markets lie damaged; families have been displaced en masse. These are not abstract statistics. Each figure is a story, a loss that shapes how communities respond to overtures of peace.
“When you have thousands buried and neighborhoods erased, you cannot just pick up the map and redraw it,” says Mira Haddad, a humanitarian worker who has spent years in Gaza and the West Bank. “The trauma persists. Reconstruction takes money, time and trust—three things in short supply.”
What Could Happen Next? Choices, Consequences, and Calculated Risks
The consequences of annexation—if it were to proceed—would cascade across several arenas. Here are some likely outcomes observers warn could follow:
- Diplomatic fallout with key Western allies; reduced military and intelligence cooperation.
- Destabilization of the Abraham Accords, risking further regional polarization.
- Increased settler-Palestinian violence and a likely spike in international condemnation.
- Complication of any future two-state talks, undermining the chance of negotiated settlements.
None of these paths is inevitable. Much depends on the political calculus of Israeli leaders, the coherence of Palestinian leadership, the pressure and incentives the U.S. chooses to apply, and the response of regional players from Cairo to Riyadh.
Readers, What Would You Do?
As you read this, imagine you are in a room where maps are being unfurled and futures debated. Do you prioritize security and immediate sovereignty? Or do you insist on negotiated outcomes that might preserve rights and international norms? There are no easy answers, but every choice will shape a generation’s memory of this moment.
This is a story not just about politicians and policies, but about people who will inherit the consequences. The United States’ warning; the Knesset’s bills; the protests on the streets; the whispers in refugee camps—these are all pieces of a larger puzzle. How we fit them together will determine whether the next chapter is one of escalation or rapprochement.
For now, diplomats continue to crisscross borders, civilians brace for what may come, and the world watches as old alliances are tested—and old promises are weighed against new realities. The question that hangs over all of it is simple: will words be enough to hold back actions that could reshape a region already scarred by decades of conflict?
EU to tentatively back €140 billion loan for Ukraine
Brussels in the rain: a summit, a promise and a legal tug-of-war
When I arrived in the square outside the European Council, the flags were damp and the mood taut. Umbrellas bobbed like a small, cautious fleet; journalists hustled, aides darted between doors, and a cluster of Ukrainian refugees lingered near a café, watching the procession of black SUVs. At the centre of the day’s agenda was a decision that could reshape the postwar recovery for Ukraine — and the legal landscape of Europe: an EU plan to mobilise some €140 billion in immobilised Russian assets and channel them to Kyiv as a loan.
On paper the number is blunt and beautiful: €140 billion. On the ground, it smells of coffee and damp wool coats, and it tastes like a wager — a loan to be repaid only if and when Russia is forced to pay war reparations. That conditionality is the hinge of the scheme: no repayments unless a future reckoning with Moscow demands them.
Three demands that could stall a continent
But the path to agreement was far from smooth. Belgian Prime Minister Bart De Wever — representing a country that hosts Euroclear, the vault where much of the immobilised assets sit — announced three conditions that he said were make-or-break. In blunt terms, De Wever argued that the legal basis for a mass reallocation of frozen assets is shaky, and that Belgium would not quietly be the first mover without iron-clad guarantees.
“We need solidarity if we’re going to be the ones taking on the risk,” a senior Belgian official told me, echoing De Wever’s view. “If there’s a call to repay, it must be a shared call.”
His three demands were straightforward: legal clarity that protects member states from future claims, mutualisation of the financial risk so every EU country would chip in if repayment is ever required, and synchronized action — that every state holding immobilised Russian assets moves at the same pace. “If these three demands are not met, I will do everything in my power, politically and legally, to stop this decision,” De Wever warned reporters on arrival.
Politics first, technicalities follow
From the other side of the table came a different tune. European Council President António Costa framed the day as one of political resolve. “Today we will take the political decision to ensure Ukraine’s financial needs for 2026 and 2027,” he said, emphasising that the heavy lifting of technical design could be handed to the European Commission afterwards.
There is a rhythm to this: leaders sometimes make a political pact, then let lawyers and financiers worry about the scaffolding. But that rhythm assumes trust between capitals, and trust is in short supply when tens of billions — indeed, hundreds — sit immobilised under complex legal regimes.
What’s actually on the table?
- €140 billion in immobilised Russian assets proposed to be transferred to Ukraine as a conditional loan.
- Repayment to be triggered only after Russia is legally ordered to pay war reparations.
- Belgium — home to Euroclear, the primary custodian — demands legal safeguards, mutualised risk, and coordinated pacing from all asset-holding states.
Voices in the square: onloookers, experts and the Ukrainian welcome
Around the corner from the summit, I met Marta, who runs a tiny borscht stall for exiles and students. “My sister is still in Kharkiv,” she said, stirring a ladle as if she could stir history into order. “We need the money to rebuild hospitals, not to debate it in Brussels forever.” Her voice carried the impatient humility of people who have been waiting for years.
Legal scholars, too, sounded alarms and offered roadmaps. Dr. Elena Popov, a European law specialist based in The Hague, said: “This is unprecedented in modern practice. We do have precedents for frozen assets during conflicts, but converting them into loans tied to reparations crosses into new legal territory. The Commission must craft mechanisms that can withstand litigation on both property and sovereign immunity grounds.”
And then there was President Volodymyr Zelensky himself, present in Brussels and greeted by Costa as “a future member of the European Union.” Zelensky struck a familiar but powerful note: he called the measures “very important” and suggested a ceasefire might be conceivable only with intensified pressure on Moscow, while firmly rejecting the idea of territorial concessions.
Sanctions: the 19th package and the squeeze on Russian energy revenues
Beyond the asset debate, leaders approved the EU’s 19th package of sanctions against Russia — a progressive tightening of the economic vise. The headline: a ban on liquefied natural gas (LNG) imports, rolled out in two stages. Short-term contracts will be allowed to run for six months; long-term deals will expire starting 1 January 2027. The move accelerates the bloc’s separation from Russian gas revenue streams, edging the timeline forward from earlier Commission roadmaps.
Other measures add teeth to the strategy: 117 more vessels from Moscow’s “shadow fleet” were listed, bringing the total to 558; banks in Kazakhstan and Belarus were targeted; and, notably, two Chinese refineries — Liaoyang Petrochemical and Shandong Yulong Petrochemical — together accounted for some 600,000 barrels per day and were added to the sanctions list. Those two plants represent roughly 3% of China’s ~19 million bpd refining capacity — not negligible when stacked against the goal of choking off Russia’s war-funding revenue.
The EU also singled out Tianjin Xishanfusheng International Trading Co, accusing it of playing a central role in rerouting EU-origin goods to Russian entities prohibited from receiving them. That move signals a willingness to point a finger not just at Moscow’s direct partners, but at firms and nodes in global supply chains that enable circumvention.
Why this matters to you — and to the world
Ask yourself: what is the price of precedent? If European states convert immobilised assets into a loan, tied to the uncertain prospect of reparations, they will have charted a course for how democracies can use frozen wealth in the service of post-conflict reconstruction. That could be a blueprint for future conflicts — or a Pandora’s box that draws central securities depositories into political crossfire.
And the stakes are human. Rebuilding Ukraine means hospitals, schools, electricity grids and farmland. The World Bank and other institutions have estimated reconstruction costs for Ukraine in the hundreds of billions. Every legal delay or political standoff ripples out to communities on the ground.
Questions the EU must answer
- Who bears the risk if courts or claimants assert ownership of immobilised assets?
- How will the EU ensure parity so no single member state absorbs disproportionate legal exposure?
- Can sanctions and financial reallocations be structured to withstand global trade and legal scrutiny?
After the summit: what to watch
If the political decision is taken, the real work begins. The Commission will need to design instruments that balance urgency with durability: trust funds, guarantees shared across the Union, clear legal immunities, and transparent governance so citizens see where every euro goes. Expect lawsuits from Russian claimants, diplomatic friction with states slow to act, and continued jockeying over the LNG ban timetable.
As I walked back past the wet flags, a young Ukrainian volunteer named Andriy paused to light a cigarette and laughed softly: “We’re used to miracles in small doses,” he said. “But I’d prefer this one to be mostly bureaucracy and money.”
Will the EU take the leap? Or will legal caution and national hesitations keep citizens in Kyiv waiting? The answer will not just shape one reconstruction plan — it may help define how democracies mobilise frozen assets to repair the damage of war in the 21st century. And as you read this, consider where you stand: Do the needs of the living outweigh the legal strings of the past? How much risk should one country shoulder for the collective good?
Brussels may sign on a dotted line. But rebuilding a nation takes more than signatures — it takes solidarity, legal craftsmanship, and an honesty about risk that ordinary people like Marta and Andriy can see in practice, not just in headlines.
Gaps in CCTV monitoring leave Louvre’s outer walls insufficiently covered
A Heist at Noon: When the Louvre’s Sparkle Went Missing
It was an ordinary Paris morning — the sun slanting off the glass of I.M. Pei’s pyramid, tourists gulping café au lait at sidewalk tables, schoolchildren pressing noses to the museum windows — until a story that felt ripped from a movie unfurled in broad daylight.
Visitors who had queued beneath the pyramid to glimpse the Mona Lisa and the alabaster rows of antiquity learned, to their astonishment, that the Louvre had been robbed. Not a petty purse-snatching or a desperate smash-and-grab, but a carefully planned lift of crown jewels that once belonged to emperors and empresses. The scene has left Parisians whispering at the cafés along rue de Rivoli and museum professionals re-examining the thin line between access and protection.
The Director’s Unvarnished Admission
Laurence des Cars, the museum’s director, stood before the Senate culture committee and spoke plainly about what many feared: the external surveillance was not up to the task. “There are some perimeter cameras, but they are ageing,” she said. “Coverage is highly insufficient… it clearly does not cover all the facades of the Louvre, and unfortunately, on the side of the Apollo Gallery, the only camera installed is directed westward and therefore did not cover the balcony involved in the break-in.”
Des Cars told senators she had requested a full audit of security measures soon after taking charge of the museum in 2021 and had plans to modernize systems, including video surveillance for every façade and fixed thermal cameras. She also disclosed that she had offered to resign following the raid — a gesture the culture ministry declined.
How They Say It Happened
Investigators working the case have sketched a disconcertingly cinematic portrait of the thieves: an organised team, a truck, a ladder, and the nimble nerve to use the city’s ordinary infrastructure as a launchpad.
“It looks like they climbed a ladder set on a vehicle to reach an upper balcony,” an investigator told reporters. “As they fled, one of the jewels — a diamond-studded crown — was abandoned or dropped.”
Eight pieces are reported missing. Among them are an emerald-and-diamond necklace said to have been gifted by Napoleon I to Empress Marie-Louise, and a diadem that once adorned Empress Eugenie, glittering with nearly 2,000 diamonds. A prosecutor has placed the financial loss at roughly €88 million.
Police Mobilize — and Promise Results
Interior Minister Laurent Nunez said the investigation “is progressing” and that more than 100 investigators had been mobilised. “I have full confidence, that’s for sure, that we will find the perpetrators,” he told local media.
For now, the Louvre has reopened to visitors — a gesture toward normalcy for the world’s most-visited museum, which welcomed about nine million people last year — but the Apollo Gallery remains closed. The sting of the violation lingers in empty velvet-lined cases and the cautious gait of security guards.
Fracture Lines: Security, Transparency and Public Trust
The controversy has opened into a public debate about how much protection is enough for cultural treasures. Museum officials pointed out that the display cases were upgraded in 2019 and represented “a considerable improvement in terms of security.”
Still, critics argue that antiquated perimeter cameras and gaps in external coverage betrayed a blind spot. “You can have steel-lined display cases, but if someone can get onto a balcony without being seen, you’ve lost the first line of defence,” said a security consultant who reviewed the scene and asked not to be named. “It’s not just about tech — it’s about a holistic view of vulnerability.”
President Emmanuel Macron has ordered an acceleration of security upgrades at the Louvre. The proposed measures — full façade surveillance, thermal imaging, and other modernizations — suggest a consensus that public institutions must adapt to new threats without turning museums into fortresses.
What Was Taken: More Than Objects
On the surface, precious gems and crowns can be appraised and replaced in insurance ledgers. But what was taken feels like something deeper: a thread from the fabric of national history. The jewels are not merely valuables; they are artifacts of monarchy, of ceremonies, of stories that anchor people to a shared past.
“It’s like someone cut out a sentence from our country’s biography,” said Amélie, a museum docent who has worked at the Louvre for a decade. “You teach visitors about the objects, about who wore them and why. When they go missing, it’s the stories that vanish with them.”
Local Voices — Paris Reacts
At a bakery across from the museum, the owner, Monsieur Gautier, shook his head. “You feel proud to have such a place in your city,” he said. “Then something like this happens and you walk around thinking: did we do enough to protect it? Did anyone think about the small things?”
A student from Lyon, one of the tourists who had planned a visit, posted on social media: “I wanted to see the diadem. Now it’s a story about ladders.” Her comment sparked a thread of outrage, sorrow, and a strange, morbid fascination.
Echoes of Other Thefts — A Global Problem
Art and cultural property have long been targets for organised crime. The Louvre theft joins a painful catalogue of high-profile heists, from museum burglaries to private collections raided in the dead of night. The economic incentive is clear: rare items are both valuable and, once dispersed into illicit markets, notoriously hard to trace.
Experts say this moment also asks questions about how societies balance the imperative to protect cultural heritage with the democratic mission of museums to be open and welcoming. Close the gates too tightly and museums lose their public soul; leave them too exposed and priceless history can disappear in an instant.
What Comes Next?
The immediate future is procedural: investigators will chase leads, examine footage, interrogate fences and handlers, and sift through international markets where such jewels might surface. The museum will implement technical fixes, and the government will likely fund a rapid upgrade to video and thermal surveillance.
But beyond the immediate, there are deeper conversations to be had. How do we secure shared memory? Who pays for that security — and at what cultural cost? Are our great museums expected to play both the role of open commons and high-security vault?
As you read this, imagine standing beneath the Louvre pyramid at dusk, the last light pooling on marble steps. The museum remains a place of wonder, even wounded. It is also now, unmistakably, a symbol of the vulnerabilities of our cultural age. What would you do to protect a nation’s history? Where should the line be drawn between access and armor?
For the people who work in those galleries, the answers are not abstract. They are the daily choices of curators, guides, guards, and lawmakers — and, increasingly, of a public deciding how much openness it is willing to trade for security.
We will watch as the investigation moves forward. We will watch as the cases remain empty, then, perhaps one day, full again. Until the jewels are recovered, the conversation they have started is as valuable as the treasure itself.
Israel urged to facilitate Gaza aid flow and deliver essential supplies
A Court’s Call, a People’s Urgency: Why the ICJ’s Message on Gaza Feels Both Legal and Moral
There is a rhythm to crisis—trucks arrive, gates open, then shut again; statements are issued, then argued over; families count days without water and then count again when a sack of flour appears at a checkpoint. Last week, the International Court of Justice (ICJ) added a new beat to that rhythm: a solemn, high-stakes advisory opinion that didn’t carry the force of an order but landed like a lighthouse beam over a stormy sea.
“Israel is under an obligation to agree to and facilitate relief schemes provided by the United Nations and its entities,” declared Court President Yuji Iwasawa. The words were measured, juridical. But for hundreds of thousands of Gazans who have been deprived of safe, steady access to food, water and medicine, the ruling read like a plea wrapped in legal gravitas: ensure the basic needs of the population, and do not block the flow of life-saving supplies.
Trucks, Tonnes, and a Frail Ceasefire
The timing matters. A fragile ceasefire that took hold earlier this month provided a narrow window for aid convoys. The World Food Programme’s Middle East spokeswoman, Abeer Etefa, offered hard numbers that give texture to the moment: 530 WFP trucks entered Gaza since the truce, delivering more than 6,700 tonnes of food—enough, she said, for “close to half a million people for two weeks.”
That sounds like relief, but the arithmetic is sobering. The WFP reported about 750 tonnes flowing daily—well short of the roughly 2,000 tonnes the agency says is needed each day to stabilize the humanitarian situation. In other words: the drip of aid, even when increased, barely scratches the surface of need.
“We’ve reopened one artery,” said an aid coordinator in Gaza City, who asked not to be named for security reasons. “But the heart still needs steady blood.”
What the ICJ Asked—and Why It Matters
The ICJ’s opinion is advisory, not a binding judgment. Yet the court insisted that advisory status does not strip its words of consequence. The judges affirmed two linked duties of an occupying power: a positive obligation to ensure the basic needs of the local population, and a negative duty not to impede the delivery of supplies indispensable for survival. The court also recalled the age-old taboo under international law: starvation may not be used as a method of warfare.
From The Hague, Iwasawa was categorical: the request presented to the court was not “an abuse or weaponisation of the international judicial process.” It is a legal clarification, he said, and one with moral weight.
What This Means in Plain Terms
- States or occupying powers should facilitate, not block, delivery of humanitarian relief;
- Agencies recognized for delivering aid—like UNRWA—cannot be dismissed overnight without a transition plan;
- International law forbids using the denial of food and essential supplies as a tactic of war.
These are not abstract tenets. They are operational demands: open crossings, inspect consignments quickly, agree on logistics, allow neutral agencies to function—or replace them with credible alternatives before banning the established ones.
The UNRWA Question: Practical Problems and Political Minefields
One of the thorniest threads in the hearings was the fate of UNRWA, the UN agency that for decades has delivered education, food, and shelter support to Palestinian refugees. Israel has accused some UNRWA staff of collaborating with Hamas around the 7 October attack and has suspended cooperation. The court, however, found that Israel had not substantiated those allegations to the extent that would justify an immediate ban.
“You can’t pull a trusted aid partner off the stage in the middle of the play without telling the audience how the story will continue,” one humanitarian lawyer told me. “The ICJ is saying: if you think UNRWA is compromised, show us the evidence—but also show us your plan so people don’t die in the meantime.”
At the hearings, a US official—Josh Simmons—warned against assuming UNRWA is indispensable, arguing other routes exist for aid delivery. The court was unconvinced a rapid substitution was realistic. Agencies cannot be replaced on short notice without a proper transition plan, judges concluded, and the logistics of Gaza—a densely populated, besieged coastal strip—are a brutal reality.
Voices from Gaza: Hunger, Hope, and Frustration
Walk through the makeshift markets in parts of Gaza and you’ll feel a country trying to respawn normal life beneath the shadow of rubble. The smell of freshly baked samoon mingles with the dust of collapsed buildings. A shopkeeper in Jabalia, wiping flour on his hands, told me: “People come with a list and leave with half. Not because the shop is closed—but because they can’t afford the rest.”
A young mother I met while aid workers distributed packaged meals held her toddler and said, “We’re grateful for what comes, but it’s temporary. How do we plan a life around temporary?” Her question hangs in the air: immediate relief matters, but so does predictable access over months—and years.
Legal Crosscurrents and Geopolitical Ripples
This advisory opinion arrives amid other legal shadows over Israel’s conduct. In July 2024, the ICJ issued an earlier, weighty opinion calling Israel’s occupation unlawful. Separately, the International Criminal Court in The Hague has moved forward with its own probes, issuing arrest warrants that have escalated diplomatic tensions. These parallel tracks—the ICJ’s normative clarifications and the ICC’s criminal investigations—create a tangle of international pressure, legal scrutiny, and political pushback.
Back in Washington and Jerusalem, officials are talking about strategy and long-term architecture. US visits to Israel by senior officials this week—intended to shore up a fragile truce and discuss post-conflict reconstruction—reiterate that the war’s endgame will be as much diplomatic and political as it is military or humanitarian.
Where Do We Go from Here?
The ICJ’s opinion does not magically open crossings or produce fuel and medicine. But it reframes obligations in a way that is both legal and moral. It asks actors to weigh the human cost of delay. It compels global audiences to consider uncomfortable questions: Do we accept that civilian populations bear collective punishment as a byproduct of war? Do we tolerate bureaucratic arguments when hunger is the immediate consequence?
Policy-makers will debate logistics, lawyers will parse precedent, and diplomats will shuttle across capitals. Meanwhile, in Gaza, people will continue to open their doors for the trucks that come, and to grieve for those who never arrived.
So let me ask you, reader: when international law speaks in tones of moral urgency, what do we expect from those it addresses? Is a ruling enough to shift the gears of a siege, or do we demand that states and institutions match legal language with immediate, tangible action? The ICJ has lit a beacon. The boats of aid must now sail toward it—fast, steady, and sustained.
Golaha Wasiirrada oo ansixiyey darajooyinka loo asteeyey Degmooyinka Gobolka Banaadir
Nov 23(Jowhar)-Golaha Wasiirrada Xukuumadda Jamhuuriyadda Federaalka Soomaaliya, oo maanta yeeshay kulankooda toddobaadlaha ah, ayaa ka dhageystay Guddiga Madaxa Bannaan ee Doorashooyinka Qaranka iyo Soohdimaha, warbixinno la xiriira diyaar-garowga doorashooyinka hal qof iyo hal cod, ee la qorsheynayo in dalka laga qabto.
New York City mayoral candidates decry federal immigration raid
When the sidewalks turned political: a city, a raid, and an election entwined
On a hot, crackling evening in New York, the familiar choreography of a street corner—the clink of metal carts, the low hum of conversation in Spanish, Bengali and Mandarin, the grease-sweet smell of fried dough—was interrupted by a different kind of sound: the heavy tread of boots and the bright flash of cameras as federal agents moved through a line of vendors.
The Department of Homeland Security said nine people were detained in the raid, described in official language as “illegal aliens” suspected of various offenses including selling counterfeit goods. But for neighborhoods that depend on those vendors as the pulse and personality of daily life, the story was not a set of charge sheets; it was a rupture.
“I’ve been selling empanadas on this corner for ten years,” said Rosa, who asked that her last name not be used. “This is how I pay rent. Today, they took my neighbour away without asking how we survive. You can’t just take people’s lives like merchandise.” Her hands, weathered and quick, folded a napkin and then refolded it, as if practicing patience she might soon need.
The mayoral stage heats up
By the time the city’s second and final mayoral debate convened, the raid had become more than an enforcement action; it was campaign fuel.
Zohran Mamdani, the Democratic frontrunner, used the debate stage to excoriate ICE, calling it “a reckless entity that cares little for the law and even less for the people that they’re supposed to serve.” The words landed like a gavel in a hall full of voters already anxious about the future of the city’s immigrant communities.
Andrew Cuomo—no longer running as the Democratic standard-bearer but appearing as an independent voice—argued the matter belongs in the hands of city policing. “This is a basic policing function,” he said, framing the raid as an overreach by federal actors into entirely local terrain.
Republican Curtis Sliwa echoed that line: “The feds should not have stepped into this situation.” He spoke of jurisdiction and neighborhood order, his voice carrying the cadence of someone who has long trafficked in the city’s safety rhetoric.
And then there was the larger national hum. Donald Trump, a native son of the city who has often injected himself into New York politics, branded Mamdani a “communist” and told reporters that the next mayor “will have to go through the White House.” Whether intended as provocation or political calculation, such remarks turned an already combustible debate into a referendum on who has the right to manage New York’s public life.
Protests, prayers, and police
The response on the ground was immediate. Protesters gathered—on Tuesday and again Wednesday—chants ringing up against the elevated tracks and into subway entrances. One demonstrator, a teacher from Sunset Park, told me, “It’s really important to show solidarity for our neighbours who are being targeted by what is increasingly an authoritarian and corrupt state.” Her voice was both furious and weary, fed by years of headlines about immigration raids and family separations.
Police were present at several sites. Religious leaders—priests, imams and rabbis—spoke at a press conference convened by the City Council calling for restraint, and urging Washington not to deploy National Guard troops the way they have been deployed in other U.S. cities in recent years.
New York State Attorney General Letitia James, a prominent critic of federal policies in previous years, urged the public to document ICE activity. “If you see enforcement that you believe to be unjust, record it. Share it,” she told a packed room—instructions that underscored how surveillance and citizen journalism have become civic tools in an era of fraught enforcement.
Numbers, neighborhoods, and nuance
To understand why this raid landed so heavily, you have to see the city in numbers and textures. New York is one of the world’s great immigrant gateways. According to the 2020 U.S. Census, roughly 37% of New Yorkers were born abroad; the metropolitan region is home to tens of thousands of small businesses and informal entrepreneurs who keep neighborhoods humming.
Estimates of street vendors in the city vary, but advocates say the population numbers in the low tens of thousands—many working without permits, many undocumented, and many simply surviving on thin margins. The informal economy they help sustain feeds commuters, construction workers, and late-night revelers alike. Crackdowns that focus on counterfeit sales often sweep up an ecology of survival: families selling cheap accessories, cooks trading in hot meals, kids helping parents shoulder carts through subway stairs.
- New York City population (approx.): 8.8 million
- Foreign-born share (2020 Census): ~37%
- Estimated number of street vendors: low tens of thousands (advocacy groups)
In neighborhoods such as Jackson Heights, Flushing, and the Lower East Side, vendors are more than commerce—they are connectors. “I meet my neighbors by the fruit stand,” said Amir, a software engineer who comes every Sunday for mangoes brought in from Ecuador. “You can’t just police away the market without understanding the relationships.”
Why local vs federal matters
At stake is a question bigger than one raid: who determines the rules of urban life? City leaders argue they should manage low-level law enforcement related to commerce and public space because they can do so with community context and local accountability. Federal authorities counter that they are enforcing federal laws enforced across borders and jurisdictions.
This isn’t just about procedure; it’s about trust. When enforcement falls to agents seen as distant or unaccountable, communities retreat. People stop reporting crimes, stop engaging with official institutions and hide in plain sight. “When people are scared of getting picked up just for selling sunglasses, they don’t call the police when they’re robbed,” said Maya Lin, a community organizer in Chinatown. “That erodes safety, not builds it.”
What this election will decide
Voting in the mayoral race begins Saturday, and the raid has sharpened a debate about what kind of city New Yorkers want: one that prioritizes local problem-solving and immigrant inclusion, or one that welcomes federal muscle even in neighborhood disputes. That question cuts to the core of urban governance worldwide as cities grow more diverse and globalized.
Are we content to outsource the management of our streets to distant authorities whose aims may be national and political? Or do we want a mayor who frames policy around the intimate knowledge of a city’s communities?
On a corner where the dust was still settling, a vendor named Luis smiled wryly and asked, “Who will protect my cart tomorrow? The mayor? The president? The city council? I just want to work.” That simple wish—work, dignity, a place to stand—remains at the heart of a debate that will decide the next steward of a city whose soul is often found at the curb.
As you read this from wherever you are, consider: how do cities balance safety, law and compassion? How much of public life should be micromanaged from above, and how much allowed to bloom from the grassroots? The answer will echo far beyond New York’s borough lines.
EU urges Ukraine loan terms to formally recognize national neutrality
Frozen Money, Warm Debates: How Europe’s Neutral States Find Themselves at a Crossroads
On a damp Dublin morning, a line of commuters slips past a bank with a brass plaque. Inside, a secure ledger—virtually invisible, bureaucratic and cold—contains the kind of sums that can alter the fate of nations: hundreds of billions of euros, frozen after a war began on a late winter day in 2022.
Those assets, mostly held in the Euroclear depository in Belgium, have been the subject of whispers and white papers for months. Now, as EU leaders gather in Brussels to debate whether to convert roughly €140 billion of that frozen capital into a loan for Ukraine, the conversation has stopped being abstract. It’s about responsibility, legal risk and the awkward reality of neutrality.
The heart of the problem
At issue is a paradox: money that is frozen and untouchable could be freed — not seized — to help a country trying to repel an invasion. The EU’s proposed plan would reclassify up to €140 billion as a loan to Kyiv, with repayment contingent on any future reparations from Moscow.
“This is a legal sleight-of-hand and a moral imperative at once,” said an EU official involved in the talks. “It lets us support Ukraine while keeping a formal distinction between confiscation and lending.”
But for some member states, formal distinctions don’t erase practical risk. Belgium, which hosts Euroclear, has been blunt: it refuses to shoulder the possible legal fallout by itself. If a court someday rules those assets belong to Russia, who pays?
“We cannot be the only country on the hook for decisions we did not make,” a senior Belgian Treasury source told me. “We need co-guarantors. That’s not political posturing — it’s protection for taxpayers.”
The neutrality conundrum
For Ireland, Austria, Malta and Cyprus, the question runs deeper than balance sheets. These are the EU’s four formally neutral or non-aligned members — countries whose constitutions, politics or histories make direct underwriting of military support extremely sensitive.
Ireland, for example, has traditionally confined its direct contributions to non-lethal aid. The European Peace Facility (EPF) has allowed states to fund security-related actions without entangling them in alliance politics; Dublin has used that mechanism to specify non-lethal contributions. Converting frozen Russian assets into a general-purpose loan to Ukraine could complicate that neat separation.
“If Ireland were to sign up as a co-guarantor, we would indirectly underwrite funds that might be used for weapons, rather than hospitals or reconstruction,” an Irish government official admitted. “That’s a constitutional and political minefield.”
Ask yourself: would you feel comfortable, as a voter, if your government guaranteed cash that might buy artillery? Many in neutral states are wrestling with that question right now.
Numbers that anchor the debate
Some figures put things in stark relief. The pool in Euroclear is estimated at up to €200 billion, with roughly €140 billion targeted for the proposed loan. Ukraine’s reconstruction needs have ballooned; independent calculations and international agencies have placed the bill in the hundreds of billions. One commonly cited estimate places reconstruction at about $524 billion.
Meanwhile, political reality bites: Washington’s new administration has signalled a tapering of financial support, increasing the importance of a European-led mechanism. At the same time, members like Hungary and Slovakia have made clear they will not act as co-guarantors — a refusal that concentrates risk among those who remain on board.
What stands to be gained — and lost
- Gain: Kyiv would receive immediate, predictable funding at a time when military and civilian needs are acute.
- Risk: Countries providing guarantees could face legal challenges and political backlash at home if the money is used for military procurements.
- Diplomacy: The EU avoids the politically fraught language of “seizing” assets by calling the move a loan tied to future reparations.
Voices from the ground
On a residential street in Dublin, outside a bakery where the espresso machine wheezes like an old ship, locals offered a slice of human perspective.
“We’re a small country. We do what we can for justice,” said Mary O’Leary, a retiree who has family in Ukraine. “But I’d want clear guarantees: hospitals and schools, not missiles. I don’t want my pension funding more killing.”
Across the sea in Antwerp and Brussels, bankers and civil servants speak less in moral terms and more in paragraphs of legalese. “The risk has to be pooled,” said a senior Belgian official. “Otherwise the liability distribution will be untenable. That’s why we’ve softened our stance — but only if solidarity is real.”
A legal scholar in Dublin framed the dilemma as part of a wider conversation about international law and reparations. “This could set a precedent,” she warned. “If sovereign assets can be re-classified to fund recompense for aggression, we are rewriting the playbook on state liability.”
How the EU might thread the needle
Commission lawyers are reportedly drafting a legal text to be presented soon. The idea: create a mechanism that spreads risk across multiple guarantor states and explicitly allows for both military and civilian expenditures — a compromise that could keep neutral countries on board while meeting Kyiv’s urgent needs.
“If the legal language is robust, transparent and limited in scope, more countries will sign up,” an EU diplomat said. “This is as much a test of European political imagination as it is of legal craft.”
Why this matters beyond Europe
This is not an internal EU squabble. How Europe chooses to mobilise capital frozen from a belligerent actor touches on global norms about sovereign assets, reparations and what counts as legitimate wartime financing.
Could this become a model for the future — a way for the international community to hold aggressors financially accountable? Or will it invite tit-for-tat rulings, blockades and a new front of legal warfare?
“There’s a tectonic shift underfoot,” observed an international relations analyst. “We are moving from sanctions as symbolic gestures to sanctions as tools of reconstruction and reparation. That’s profound.”
What happens next — and what to watch
Brussels expects a legal proposal soon, and EU leaders have signalled urgency. But the details will determine whether the plan unites Europe or splits it further.
- Will the legal text explicitly allow use of funds for military purchases?
- How many states will agree to co-guarantee — and which ones?
- Can safeguards be designed to protect taxpayers while meeting Kyiv’s immediate needs?
As the debate unfolds, ordinary citizens in cafés, offices and parliaments will weigh national identity against collective responsibility. Are we comfortable redefining neutrality in a world where war reaches across borders through finance as well as bullets?
One thing is certain: the ledger in that Brussels depository is more than numbers. It is a test of European solidarity, a legal experiment and, perhaps most importantly, a bet on what kind of continent Europeans want to build in the long shadow of a violent neighbour.
Whatever emerges from the summit will reverberate far beyond Euroclear’s vaults. It will tell us whether Europe chooses to stitch its financial muscle to its moral argument — or whether prudence and constitutional caution will keep the money frozen, and the debate continuing.
40 Muhaajiriin ah oo ku dhintay Doon ku degtay Xeebaha Tunisia
Nov 23(Jowhar)-Ku dhowaad 40 muhaajiriin ah ayaa la xaqiijiyey inay ku dhinteen xeebaha dalka Tunisia, kadib markii ay gaddoontay dooni ay saarnaayeen oo u socotay dalka Talyaaniga, sida lagu sheegay warbixin rasmi ah oo ka soo baxday dowladda Tunisia.
MEP Boylan appalled as EU pauses sanctions against Israel
When Diplomacy Pauses: Ireland, the EU, and the Quiet Tension Over Gaza
There’s a dissonant hush in the corridors of Strasbourg and a worried hum in Dublin’s cafes — the kind of low-level noise that speaks of things unresolved. The European Union announced this week that it would not immediately push ahead with a package of sanctions aimed at Israel, citing a changed situation on the ground after a ceasefire. For many on the island of Ireland, and for voices across Europe who watched the conflict unfold, that decision felt less like prudence than a retreat.
“I’m deeply, deeply disgusted,” Sinn Féin MEP Lynn Boylan told RTÉ in a tone that cut through the bureaucratic polish of the European Parliament. “This is the very time when we need to ramp the pressure up on Israel. I’m scratching my head at the EU… They’ve just exited the international stage at a time when they should be front and centre.”
Her words landed hard in Dublin, where memories of Ireland’s own long struggles with peacekeeping, diplomacy, and principled stances are never far from the surface. In pubs and at kitchen tables across the city, ordinary people said they felt frustrated by what they see as a missed moral moment.
What the EU said — and didn’t say
On the podium, EU foreign policy chief Kaja Kallas framed the decision as tactical. “The ceasefire has changed the context,” she told journalists, adding that the EU would not “move with the measures now” while also keeping the threat of sanctions on the table. “Unless we see real and sustained change on the ground, including more aid reaching Gaza, the threat of sanctions remains on the table,” she added.
Those words are a diplomatic tightrope: a pause without a promise broken, a warning without the immediate sting of implementation. The proposed measures earlier put forward by the European Commission were significant — talk of curbing trade ties and blacklisting some ministers — and came after sustained pressure from member states fed up with what they perceived as inaction in the face of a protracted and devastating campaign in Gaza.
And yet, as one EU official speaking on background admitted to me, “Politics is timing. Sanctions are a blunt instrument; if you pull the trigger at the wrong moment you can make matters worse.” That pragmatic caution sits uneasily alongside the anguished pleas of those who feel diplomacy should amplify, not retreat, in moments of fragile ceasefire.
Voices in Ireland: Caution, Concern, and the Triple Lock
Regina Doherty, a Fine Gael MEP, offered a more measured response. “I’ve mixed views as to whether sanctions at the moment would be counterintuitive,” she said. “Maybe there’s a time and a place, and actually I think the time and place probably would’ve been months ago, not necessarily now. I think everything that we do now has to centre around keeping and holding the peace, and rebuilding lives for people who’ve gone through so much trauma.”
Her caveat highlights a broader Irish conundrum: the instinct to lead on peacekeeping and humanitarian action colliding with legal and political constraints. Ireland has a long and proud history of UN peacekeeping. At the same time, national rules — known as the “triple lock” — mean any deployment of 12 or more Defence Forces personnel overseas requires three approvals: the Dáil (Irish parliament), the Government, and a UN Security Council mandate.
- Why this matters: the “triple lock” is designed to prevent unilateral entanglement in foreign conflicts, but critics say it can be impractical when the UN is paralysed at the Security Council.
- Proponents of reform argue that Irish sovereignty and the ability to respond rapidly to global crises are hampered by the current arrangement.
“I would very much agree with Ireland taking a leading role in peacekeeping, as we have done before,” Doherty told me, but she also warned the “elephant in the room is the Triple Lock.” She has previously suggested it is time to reconsider that framework, arguing it no longer reflects the realities of modern diplomacy.
Questions about a new ‘International Stabilisation Force’
Attention has also turned to proposals for an International Stabilisation Force (ISF) as part of a comprehensive Gaza peace plan that has circulated in policy circles. The concept — to secure key areas, support reconstruction, and help train a new Palestinian police force — is straightforward on paper but thorny in practice.
“It’s not embedded in international law. It’s not embedded with the UN. Who is going to oversee this so-called stabilisation force?” Lynn Boylan asked, echoing concerns that have been raised by legal experts and activists alike. The absence of a clear mandate, a transparent chain of command, or a widely accepted legal basis raises hard questions about legitimacy and accountability.
For many in Ireland, the default response is cautious support for peacekeeping — coupled with a refusal to play along with arrangements that lack legal and moral clarity. “Any Irish involvement must be rooted in an international legal framework first,” Doherty insisted. It’s a simple sentence with profound implications.
On the Ground — and in the Headlines
Walk the streets around Leinster House in Dublin or the cobblestone approaches to Strasbourg’s parliament buildings and you’ll hear a familiar refrain: people want governments to act, but they want action that holds to law and to principle. A Dublin teacher told me over a cup of tea, “We don’t want token gestures. If we’re going to send our people, it must be for real peace, not for show.”
Across the Mediterranean, the landscapes where this diplomacy plays out are raw with human story. Gaza is home to more than two million people squeezed into just 365 square kilometres — a dense tapestry of families, markets, mosques, and schools. Years of blockade, conflict, and displacement have left infrastructure fragile and humanitarian needs immense. Aid groups repeatedly warn that temporary ceasefires, while lifesaving in the short term, do not substitute for sustained, structural recovery and a political solution.
One aid worker who has spent months coordinating relief convoys described to me the logistical maze: “Getting enough food, clean water and medical supplies across checkpoints and through damaged crossings is nightmarish. The ceasefire opens doors—but those doors can close again tomorrow if there’s no durable plan.”
Why this matters to the global public
We live in an era where foreign policy choices reverberate quickly. Sanctions, deployments, and diplomatic pauses are not abstract levers pulled in distant capitals: they have human consequences. They shape the lives of children in refugee camps, they influence migration patterns, and they test the credibility of institutions meant to prevent the worst excesses of war.
So ask yourself: when a regional conflict pauses, should the international community mount pressure — or step back to let wounds begin to heal? Is the EU’s patience a wise calculation or a moral retreat? And for countries like Ireland, how do you balance a proud peacekeeping tradition with legal constraints and political reality?
A moment of choice
The answers will not come neatly. There are no perfect options on the table, only trade-offs, compromises, and risks. What is clear is that in moments like these, silence is itself a decision. To step away from pressure is to change the dynamics of conflict; to lean in without a legal or ethical framework is to gamble with sovereignty and safety.
For now, the sanctions remain a spectre rather than a sword. The ISF remains a sketch on a briefing paper. And the people most affected—families in Gaza, diplomats in Strasbourg, voters in Dublin—are left waiting, watching, and wondering which way the wind will finally blow.
Whatever happens next, it will not be purely a matter of policy. It will be a moral and political choice, and those choices will ripple far beyond the pages of today’s headlines.
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