Jan 12(Jowhar)-Golaha Wasiirada ee Soomaaliya ayaa maanta baabi’iyay gabi ahaanba heshiisyadii Amni iyo Difaac ee Dowladda Federaalka ahi kula jirtay dalka Imaaraadka.
UK regulator Ofcom opens probe into X over Grok safety concerns
When an AI “Grok” Turns Ugly: How a New Tool Became a Global Test of Tech Responsibility
There’s a very modern kind of shock: the one that arrives not with a siren or a headline, but with an image sliding silently across a phone screen—someone you know, altered into something obscene. In early January, that slow, private horror became public when reports surfaced that Grok, the AI chatbot from xAI linked to the social media platform X, had been used to create sexually explicit deepfakes, including images that may involve children.
The UK’s media regulator, Ofcom, didn’t sit on that alarm. In a matter of days it contacted X, set a firm deadline for an explanation and then opened a formal investigation under the Online Safety Act. “There have been deeply concerning reports of the Grok AI chatbot account on X being used to create and share undressed images of people,” Ofcom said, adding the imagery “may amount to intimate image abuse or pornography and sexualised images of children that may amount to child sexual abuse material.”
From Paywall to Pressure
xAI’s first response was technical and commercial: restrict image generation and editing to paying subscribers. On paper, it looked like a quick fix—a way to limit ease of access to a tool that could be weaponized.
But for many observers that move felt like a moral shrug. “What you’re saying is you’ve got an opportunity to abuse, but you have to pay for it,” said Dr Niall Muldoon, Ireland’s children’s ombudsman, a line that cut through the defense like a clean blade. Across the UK government, senior officials urged action; Downing Street said “all options are on the table,” and the Technology Secretary prepared to brief Parliament.
To those who have watched the slow creep of AI from fascinating novelty to potent social force, none of this was surprising. What is surprising—and terrifying—is how quickly sophisticated synthetic media tools have slipped into everyday hands.
What the Law Can—and Might—Do
The Online Safety Act gives Ofcom new teeth. If the regulator finds that X has failed in its duty to protect users in the UK, it can force changes and levy fines of up to 10% of qualifying worldwide revenue. That’s not trivial: regulatory penalties at that level can reshape corporate strategies, as companies weigh compliance costs against reputational damage and legal risk.
“This is precisely the kind of policy test the Online Safety Act was built for,” an AI policy specialist I spoke to said, asking not to be named. “When generative models are easily weaponized, regulators must move beyond reactive statements and into active enforcement.”
Voices from the Ground: Anger, Fear and a Touch of Resignation
In a shabby café near King’s Cross, a mother scrolling her phone showed me a blurred screenshot and shook her head. “You tell your kids not to post everything. You tell them the internet is forever. But AI makes it worse. It takes consent and throws it away.”
A young woman in Birmingham described the feeling as “violation and helplessness.” “I don’t know how to stop my face ending up in something like that,” she said. “Blocking, reporting—none of it feels fast enough.”
In Kuala Lumpur, the Malaysian Communications and Multimedia Commission temporarily blocked access to Grok, saying repeated misuse included “obscene, sexually explicit, indecent, grossly offensive, and non-consensual manipulated images, including content involving women and minors.” Indonesia had already been the first country to deny access temporarily, and a cascade of national responses now punctuated the story: policy and policing at different speeds in different places.
Paywalls, Paranoia, and the Limits of Platform Responsibility
xAI’s decision to place some features behind a subscription is a private company’s play to regain control. But it raises the question: what does responsible stewardship of an AI tool look like in practice?
“A paywall is a gate with a sign on it,” said an academic who studies digital harms. “It discourages casual misuse, but motivated abusers will still find ways. Real safety needs robust design guardrails, human review, and swift moderation backed by transparency.”
Design guardrails mean everything from built-in checks that prevent editing a real person’s image without consent, to watermarks, to stricter verification. Yet engineering solutions are never purely technical; they sit inside legal, cultural and commercial ecosystems that influence how effective they can be.
Global Ripples, Local Pain
This moment is not just about a single chatbot. It’s part of a larger, noisier debate: how do we govern AI tools that can fabricate reality at scale? How do we protect vulnerable people—women, children, public figures—from misuse while still allowing innovation to flourish?
Consider how this plays out locally. In working-class neighborhoods, the threat manifests as reputational ruin and family shame. In wealthy circles it shows up as lawsuits and crisis PR. For regulators, the challenge is unified: equitable enforcement across socioeconomic and geographic lines.
And for citizens, the dilemma is intimate. Do we stop using tools that make our lives easier because they can also be used to harm? Or do we demand better from the companies that create them?
What Comes Next?
Ofcom’s investigation will determine whether X violated its legal duties under the Online Safety Act. If it did, the consequences could include mandated platform changes and heavy fines. In the weeks ahead, X representatives are scheduled to meet with UK officials and policy makers; Coimisiún na Meán in Ireland is engaging the European Commission.
Within the industry, reactions vary. Some technologists push for more rigorous pre-release testing and stronger content filters. Civil society groups demand transparency and victim-centered remediation. Governments are balancing diplomacy with digital sovereignty—removing access to tools or threatening to pull official accounts are now on the table.
“We have an ethical duty to build systems that don’t enable harm,” said an engineer who once worked on generative models. “And when harm happens, platforms must be accountable—not retroactive, not after a scandal. Preventive design is cheaper, and more humane, than cleanup.”
Questions for the Reader
What would you give up for safety? Would you accept restrictions on a platform you use every day if it meant fewer harms? Or do you believe the cost to innovation is too high?
These choices are not purely technical. They are moral and political. They will shape how our societies balance freedom and protection in a world where reality can be synthesized with terrifying speed.
Final Note
This episode is a reminder that technology is only as ethical as the people and systems that govern it. Grok’s failings—real, alarming, and fast-moving—are a call-to-action: regulators must enforce, companies must design responsibly, and citizens must demand clarity and safety. The image that sparks outrage today may not be yours, but the system that allows it to be created touches us all.
Jubaland oo UN-ka u sheegtay in 1.5 milyan oo qof ay si toos ah u saameysay abaarta Jubaland
Jan 12(Jowhar)-Madaxweynaha maamulka Jubaland Axmed Maxamed Islaam, ayaa Xarunta Madaxtooyada ku qaabilay Ku-xigeenka Ergayga Gaarka ah ee Qaramada Midoobay, ahna Isku-duwaha arrimaha Bani’aadannimada Soomaaliya, Mr. George Conway, iyo wafdi uu hoggaaminayo, kuwaas oo u kuurgalaya saamaynta abaarta ka jirta deegaannada Jubaland.
EU mulls targeted sanctions on Iran over protest crackdown
Tehran at a Crossroads: Streets of Sorrow, Screens of Silence
Night fell over Tehran and the city seemed to hold its breath. Where laughter would normally spill from teahouses and taxis honk in familiar impatience, there was the muted crushing sound of boots on asphalt, the distant clatter of funerals, and an internet that had gone almost entirely dark.
On the surface, it looks like another episode in Iran’s long, fraught history of unrest. But beneath the headlines—beneath the images that slip through the blackout—are human stories that crack the official narratives: mothers clutching the coats of sons taken during midnight raids; a shopkeeper in downtown Tehran refusing to close because “if I hide, what do I live for?”; and funeral processions so vast state television felt compelled to cut in and broadcast them as demonstrations “in condemnation of terrorist acts.”
What Happened? The Spark and the Surge
The latest wave of protests began on 28 December, ignited by soaring prices and widespread economic pain. But it didn’t stay there. Within days, crowds who once shouted about bread began shouting at the very pillars of the post-revolutionary order.
“It felt like a pressure cooker had burst,” said Fatemeh, a schoolteacher in Karaj who asked that her family name not be used. “You could see it in people’s eyes—there was fury at how lives are lived on the margins while others profit. When the streets filled, it became about dignity as much as prices.”
Rights monitors in the United States say the consequences have been deadly. The US-based group HRANA said it had verified the deaths of 490 protesters and 48 security personnel, and reported more than 10,600 arrests. Tehran has not released official tallies, and independent verification is hampered by the communications blackout that began on Thursday.
Silencing the Story: The Internet Blackout
For many inside Iran, the blackout changed the shape of the uprising. Clips that once traveled across platforms and borders were suddenly trapped on phones. Newsrooms outside Iran scrambled to corroborate snippets; families inside were left unable to tell relatives abroad whether their streets were calm or ablaze.
“When the net goes, so do the witnesses,” said Roya H., a digital rights activist based in Tehran. “It’s not just about messaging—without it, the truth vanishes in real time.”
President Donald Trump said he would speak to Elon Musk to explore whether Starlink satellite internet service could restore connectivity. Whether such technical fixes could penetrate a deliberate national shutdown—and what political consequences that would bring—remains unclear.
The Global Responses: Threats, Sanctions, and Diplomatic Tightrope
International reaction has been swift and tense. The European Union said it was “looking into” fresh sanctions over what it called a violent crackdown. “We stand ready to propose new, more severe sanctions following the violent crackdown on protesters,” EU spokesman Anouar El Anouni told reporters.
Across the Atlantic, rhetoric escalated into the kinds of threats that make diplomats measure breaths and militaries raise alert levels. President Trump publicly said the US was in contact with opposition figures and that a meeting with Iranian officials might be arranged—but he also warned of “very strong options,” ranging from expanded sanctions to military strikes and cyber operations.
“We are ready for war but also for dialogue,” Iran’s Foreign Minister Abbas Araqchi told foreign ambassadors in Tehran, according to a briefing translated into English. The choice between confrontation and conversation is a razor’s edge; one misstep could light the regional tinderbox.
Inside Iran’s parliament, Speaker Mohammad Baqer Qalibaf offered a blunt deterrent: any attack on Iran, he warned, would make the “occupied territories” (a reference to Israel) and US bases legitimate targets. Those words were relayed in a tone that signaled preparedness not only to retaliate militarily but to broaden the conflict, raising alarm bells across capitals in the Middle East.
What Washington Is Weighing
- Expanded economic sanctions
- Cyber operations aimed at intelligence or communications infrastructure
- Direct military strikes on selected targets
- Covert or overt support to opposition groups
U.S. officials, according to press reports, are studying those options. Analysts warn that options that look surgical on a map are rarely surgical in reality.
On the Ground: Grief, Defiance, and the Long Tail of Economic Malaise
Walk a bazaar in Shiraz and you can still smell saffron and frying onions, but the rhythms have shifted. Customers haggle, yes, but many simply can’t afford to haggle; purchases are smaller, savings evaporated by inflation and sanctions. It’s easy, in that cramped context, to see why the protests spread so quickly.
“We have made every sacrifice,” said Hassan, who runs a small construction firm. “We are not asking for revolution—just fairness. When people ask why they should bear the weight of others’ wealth, anger spills out.”
Political anger is compounded by resentment towards the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC), whose sprawling economic interests—from oil and gas to telecommunications and construction—leave many Iranians convinced that elites profit while ordinary citizens suffer. State media framed the unrest as foreign-backed “terrorism”; opponents see that as an attempt to delegitimize domestic grievances.
State television broadcast live footage of large state-organized rallies and mourning ceremonies for security personnel killed in some cities, while also urging people to take to the streets in “condemnation” of what authorities called terrorist acts. The competing images—of funerals and protests, of grief and condemnation—created a visual cacophony that few outside Iran could credibly parse.
Why This Matters to the World
Beyond the human toll and internal politics, Iran’s unrest matters for three major reasons.
- Regional stability: Iran is a pivotal actor across the Middle East. Escalation could redraw alliances and trigger military responses from neighboring states and allies.
- Global markets: Iran sits astride key energy routes and its instability tends to ripple into oil prices and market confidence.
- Information sovereignty: The blackout is a stark example of how modern states can throttle the internet to control narratives and stall solidarity movements—something governments from Beijing to Cairo watch closely.
“This is not just an Iranian story,” said Alan Eyre, a former U.S. diplomat and Iran specialist. “It’s a test of resilience for a society, and a test of restraint for outside powers. Even if the establishment survives this unrest, it likely emerges weaker and more brittle.”
Questions That Linger
Will sanctions pressure, or harden the state’s resolve? Can dialogue be credible when threats of force hang like a guillotine? And for ordinary Iranians—who just want to keep food on the table and their loved ones safe—what does freedom mean when the lights go out and the streets are filled with troops?
Perhaps the most human question is simplest: when the world watches through the small, grainy frames that make it out from under the blackout, do we see the stories behind the statistics—grief, anger, hunger, and hope? Or do we let them become yet another chapter in a geopolitical ledger where people are footnotes?
There are no tidy endings on the streets of Tehran tonight. But the images that escape—of mourning crowds, of hands raised in defiance, of neighborhoods taking stock—are a reminder that history is not only the work of capitals and commands. It is also the work of ordinary lives stretched to a breaking point.
As this story unfolds, what are we willing to do as global citizens? Watch? Protest? Lobby our governments? Send aid? Or will we, yet again, learn the cost of silence?
Baarlamaanka oo si aqlabiyad leh u ansixiyay Axdiga Xakameynta Tubaakada
Jan 12(Jowhar)-Xidhibaanad Golaha Shacabka ee Baarlamaanka Jamhuuriyadda Federaalka Soomaaliya ayaa ansixiyey Axdiga Xakameynta Tubaakada, waxaana ogolaatay 139-Xildhibaan, seddax Xildhibaan ayaa ka aamustay, wax diidayna ma jirin.
Nationwide protests follow fatal shooting of woman by ICE agent
“Say Her Name”: A City Shivers, then Roars — Minneapolis and the Rising Outcry Over ICE
The air in Minneapolis felt like a held breath — thin, cold, and electric. Snow crusted the sidewalks and flattened the city’s usual colors into a muted palette of gray and brick. But when the crowd reached Powderhorn Park, muffled footfalls turned into a chorus: “Say her name!”
“Renee Good!” came the reply, a thousand voices folding the name into the winter sky. It was not just a chant. It was a funeral and a summons — a way to turn grief into visible, noisy demand.
What happened
On a frozen Wednesday, 37-year-old Renee Nicole Good was shot and killed in her car by an agent with Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE), sending shockwaves through Minneapolis and beyond. The fatal encounter unfolded as federal agents were carrying out an immigration operation that has become emblematic of a broader and more aggressive enforcement posture under the Trump administration.
Video released and circulated in the hours afterward shows the tense minutes before the shooting. In one clip, an agent approaches Good’s vehicle as she sits inside. “I’m not mad at you,” she tells him. Commands, a scuffle for space, then — according to local officials and witnesses — the sound of gunfire. Federal officials have said the officer fired in self‑defense; local authorities and community members say the footage undermines that claim.
How the city responded
Within days, hundreds — then thousands — of people answered a call to protest under the banner “ICE, Out for Good.” Organizers said more than 1,000 events were planned nationwide. In Minneapolis, demonstrators bundled in scarves and parkas converged on the site near Powderhorn Park, their signs scrawled with blunt directives: “ICE OUT,” “No More Militarized Immigration,” “Justice for Renee.”
“We can’t let this become just another headline,” said Marisol Alvarez, a community organizer who helped coordinate the Minneapolis march. “Every time authorities kill someone, we have to remember the person behind the name. Renee was a mother, a neighbor, someone who laughed. We are here to make sure she is not erased.”
The broader pattern
Renee Good’s death is not an isolated incident in the public eye. Since the Trump administration ramped up deportation efforts, federal immigration enforcement has come under intense scrutiny. Media investigations and watchdog groups have documented multiple deadly or injurious encounters involving ICE agents and other federal officers. The Trace, a nonprofit that focuses on violence, reported this was the fourth person killed by federal immigration agents since the launch of that particular deportation campaign, with several others wounded.
To put the scale in context: ICE and its predecessor agencies have been major instruments of immigration control for decades. Annual removals have historically numbered in the hundreds of thousands — for instance, in Fiscal Year 2019 ICE reported roughly 267,000 removals. The agency’s footprint, its tactics, and its expanding use of armed, tactical teams have fueled debates about transparency, oversight, and the proper role of federal law enforcement in communities.
Voices from the streets
“My sister called me and was bawling,” said Drew Lenzmeier, 30, who drove into the city for the demonstration. “I came because I feel like our rights are being taken away. This feels like a slide to authoritarianism when federal agents shoot people like this in broad daylight.”
Alicia Johnson, a local hairdresser who brought hand‑painted signs to the march, paused as a line of protesters passed a makeshift memorial of candles and flowers. “Renee’s life mattered,” she said. “We treat people like they can be removed from communities without consequence. Families are torn apart. Kids are scared. You can see it in every neighborhood where these raids happen.”
Not everyone at the rally fit a single profile. There were longtime activists from the “No Kings” network that helped galvanize nationwide protests last year, students from nearby colleges, faith leaders who had arrived from other cities, and older residents who remembered past waves of civil rights organizing.
Official responses and contested narratives
The White House defended the agent’s actions, calling the officer’s account — that he fired in self‑defense — consistent with the video released by federal authorities. Officials even used the clip to assert the agent’s actions were necessary and lawful. But that narrative is disputed by local electeds and community advocates, who say the footage does not clearly show a threat that would justify lethal force.
Mayor Jacob Frey, in a statement to local media, urged patience while the federal FBI investigation proceeds but stopped short of offering an unqualified defense of the agent’s actions. “We need transparency and accountability,” a Minneapolis city council member, Aisha Khan, told me at the memorial. “This is a community issue, not just a federal operation. People deserve to know the truth.”
Questions of oversight
Tensions are heightened by frustration over jurisdiction. City and county leaders say they were marginalized as the FBI took the lead in the investigation — a dynamic that left many residents feeling sidelined just when they most wanted local authorities to protect their interests.
Nationally, critics say the structure of ICE — a federal agency with immigration enforcement and deportation authority but limited public oversight — invites confrontations that too often end badly. Proponents argue ICE is essential to border security and enforcing immigration laws. Which narrative will dominate is a battleground, fought in courtrooms, town halls, and the streets.
What this moment asks of us
Standing at the edge of the crowd, you could feel how public grief quickly morphs into political energy. Protest songs met chants. People blew whistles, banged on overturned pots, and marched toward hotels where some believed federal agents were billeted. A handful were arrested; they were released hours later. The scene — ragtag, determined, sincere — felt like a reminder that democratic pressure rarely sleeps.
But beyond the immediate calls for investigations and resignations is a deeper question: what kind of society do we want when it comes to borders, enforcement, and dignity? How should states balance rule of law with human rights? When an enforcement operation results in a death, how do we ensure accountability without immediately collapsing into reflexive accusations?
“This isn’t just about Renee,” Marisol Alvarez told me as the last of the marchers drifted away, their breath clouding in the night. “It’s about a system that treats certain people as expendable. If we let that stand, what’s next? Who’s the next person we decide we can take away?”
Takeaway
The protests in Minneapolis — and the solidarity actions in cities from Philadelphia to Boston — are more than reactions to one tragic incident. They are a public insistence that the machinery of enforcement be examined, restrained, and made transparent. Whether those demands lead to policy change, federal accountability, or sustained civic pressure will depend on how communities, attorneys, and lawmakers choose to act in the weeks and months ahead.
As you read this, ask yourself: where do you stand on the balance between security and rights? And when a voice calls out a name into a cold sky, will you listen?
At least 500 killed in Iran protests, rights group reports
Night Streets and Morning Angst: Iran at a Crossroads
On a winter night that felt too small for so much anger, the streets of Tehran filled with a sound that was equal parts prayer and defiance. People clapped in unison. They chanted until their voices hoarsened. A man, somewhere in the crowd, shouted into a mobile phone so a camera could carry his words to the world: “The crowd has no end nor beginning.”
That image — of an endless, circling human tide — has become one of the defining scenes of a crisis that began, as many revolutions do, with something ordinary and ache-filled: rising prices. What started on 28 December as protests over soaring costs quickly morphed into the most sustained challenge to Iran’s clerical establishment since the nationwide upheavals of 2022. And it has not dribbled away; it has expanded, hardened, and suffered a brutal response.
On the ground: grief, fury, and a silenced internet
Human rights groups say the cost of this unrest is staggering. HRANA, a US-based monitoring group that collates reports from inside Iran, has verified the deaths of 490 protesters and 48 security personnel, and recorded more than 10,600 arrests over just two weeks. Tehran has kept quiet on official casualty counts. State television offers an alternate narrative: images of body bags at the coroner’s office and scenes of mourning framed as “martyrs” who died resisting foreign plots.
The flow of information has been deliberately choked. Iran imposed an internet blackout beginning on Thursday, severing the vital arteries of modern protest — video uploads, encrypted messages, live streams. In the gap, rumors rush like wild horses. In the gaps, families wait.
“We couldn’t reach our nephew for twenty-four hours,” said Leila, a garment worker from the southern suburbs, voice trembling as she spoke on a call that dropped three times. “When the connection came back, his phone was off. He was taken. That is the new normal. We hold our breath and check our phones like a second heartbeat.”
Across Tehran, in narrow alleys illuminated by streetlamps and shop signs, people tell stories of nights spent singing to dispel fear, of clergy walking quickly past windows, of children standing on doorsteps asking what it all means. “People aren’t just angry about bread or gas or electricity,” a taxi driver named Mahmoud told me. “They’re angry because nothing changes. The promises are always for someone else.”
Crackdown and rhetoric: the state sharpens its lines
Authorities have responded with a combination of force and ritual. Security forces have detained thousands, and state media has called for nationwide demonstrations to denounce what officials call “terrorist actions led by the United States and Israel.” Parliament Speaker Mohammad Baqer Qalibaf — a former Revolutionary Guards commander — warned Washington that any attack would invite retaliation on US bases and on Israel.
“Let us be clear,” Qalibaf declared in a televised address. “In the case of an attack on Iran, the occupied territories as well as all US bases and ships will be our legitimate target.” Those words were meant to dissuade. They also pushed the story into the dangerous channel where domestic unrest meets international brinkmanship.
How the world is watching — and reacting
From Washington, the response has been muscular and ambiguous. Former US President Donald Trump, who has repeatedly said he would not tolerate bloodshed against protesters, told reporters on Air Force One that “the military is looking at it” and that the US would consider “very strong options.” He has said the US stands “ready to help,” and even raised — in a breathless tweet and private conversations — the idea of restoring internet access via private satellite services like Elon Musk’s Starlink.
Those threats have a weight beyond rhetoric. Israel, still on high alert after a 12-day war with Iran in June 2025, has been briefed and remains watchful. That previous conflict saw US forces briefly strike Iranian nuclear installations; Iran retaliated by launching missiles that targeted Israel and a US airbase in Qatar. The memory of missiles and counterstrikes makes every new escalation feel like tinder near a matchbox.
United Nations Secretary-General António Guterres said he was “shocked” by reports of violence and urged restraint, reminding the world that the rights to assembly and speech are not negotiable. “These rights must be fully respected and protected,” he wrote on X.
Voices from all sides
The cacophony includes politicians, the exiled, the pragmatic, and the grieving. Reza Pahlavi, the exiled son of Iran’s last shah, praised the courage of protesters and urged them not to abandon the streets. “Do not abandon the streets,” he wrote on social media. In Tehran, a university student named Sara leaned against a closed bakery and told me: “We are tired of being always last. Tired of paying for other people’s wars.”
Not all see the protests purely as a homegrown uprising. President Masoud Pezeshkian accused foreign powers of orchestrating “terrorists” who set mosques on fire and attacked banks. “Our enemies think chaos will help them,” he said at a state briefing. On the ground, however, shopkeepers and clerics I spoke with said this sentiment rang hollow; the protests, they insisted, poured from grievances people live with daily.
Numbers that matter
- HRANA verified deaths: 490 protesters and 48 security personnel
- Arrests reported: more than 10,600 in two weeks
- Internet blackout: nationwide, beginning Thursday
- Previous conflict backdrop: June 2025 12-day war between Iran and Israel
Where does this leave us?
There are a thousand ways this story could turn. It could be contained, an outburst crushed and buried. It could mutate into a deeper, longer confrontation that reorders power at home and reverberates across the region. Or it might slowly deflate into a renewed cycle of unjust bargains and smothered demands.
We must ask ourselves: when a people take to the streets not for ideology but for dignity — for a living wage, for honest governance, for the feeling that their voices count — what duty does the international community have? And when outside powers speak loudly of “help,” what are the costs of intervention versus the risks of inaction?
What to watch next
In the coming days watch for three things: whether the internet blockade eases and independent verification returns; whether foreign governments move from rhetoric to concrete actions; and whether local leaders offer reforms that answer the protesters’ immediate grievances without further bloodshed.
“This is not a moment for grandstanding,” said Dr. Agha Rahimi, a political analyst who studies Middle Eastern social movements. “This is a moment for careful, humane, transparent action. If the state responds with blind force, it risks turning sporadic protests into an enduring cycle of conflict.”
For now, Tehran hums with a tense energy. Shop doors close early. People check phones that do not always connect. In a city layered with poetry, history, and unresolved anger, the next stanza of the story is being written in the streets — by those who march, those who mourn, and those who choose silence.
Will the world step back and watch history repeat itself, or will it listen and act in ways that protect life and rights? The answer may depend less on leaders and more on how ordinary people — in Tehran and beyond — choose to hold the moral line.
Shiinaha oo dalkiisa ku casuumay madaxweyne Xasan Sheekh
Jan 12(Jowhar)-Dowladda Shiinaha ayaa si rasmi ah u muujisay taageerada ay u hayso midnimada, madaxbannaanida iyo xasilloonida Jamhuuriyadda Federaalka Soomaaliya, iyadoo ballanqaadday in ay xoojin doonto iskaashiga labada dal, gaar ahaan dhinacyada difaaca iyo amniga.
Booliska Israel ayaa xiray kaaliye sare oo Netanyahu ah iyadoo baaritaan rasmi ah lagu sameynayo
jan 12 (Jowhar)- Dhacdo layaab leh oo dhacday, booliiska Israel ayaa xiray kaaliye sare oo Ra’iisul Wasaare Benjamin Netanyahu ah iyadoo qayb ka ah baaritaan rasmi ah oo lagu sameeyay eedeymo musuqmaasuq.
Dozens of homes destroyed, one fatality in Australian bushfires
When the Night Turned Orange: Fires, Heat and the Fragility of a Bush Life
By the time the moon rose, the horizon had been swallowed by an impossible orange. Embers floated like falling stars, and the smell of burning gum leaves clung to everything — woolen shirts, hay bales, the inside of cars. In the small Victorian town of Longwood, where shepherds and cattlemen measure their days by seasons and rainfall, people stood in driveways with torches and teacups, watching the dark breathe fire.
“There were embers falling everywhere. It was terrifying,” said Scott Purcell, a cattle farmer who lost part of a fence line and saw the night sky glow like a furnace. “You don’t sleep; you listen for the sound of trees popping and the gap in the fire line. That gap becomes everything.”
The hard numbers behind the ash
Authorities say this latest wave of blazes has been devastating. Fire services reported more than 300,000 hectares torched across southeast Australia, and Emergency Management Commissioner Tim Wiebusch confirmed that over 300 buildings — including sheds, farm structures and outbuildings — have burned. More than 70 houses were lost, and tragically, police confirmed one death near Longwood.
- Areas affected: 300,000+ hectares
- Buildings destroyed: 300+ (including rural structures)
- Houses destroyed: 70+
- Fatalities: 1 confirmed
- Temperatures recorded: above 40°C across parts of Victoria
“We’re starting to see some of our conditions ease,” Commissioner Wiebusch told reporters as firefighters, exhausted and mud-splattered, rotated out of crews. “And that means firefighters are able to start getting on top of some of the fires that we still have in our landscape.”
Heat, wind and a wildfire recipe
Across the state, thermometers tipped past 40°C as a heatwave settled in. Hot, dry winds whipped through forests and paddocks, turning tinder-dry ground into a conveyor belt of flame. In one unusual and terrifying spectacle, a blaze near Walwa was energetic enough to spawn its own lightning — a pyrocumulonimbus — throwing embers and creating thunderstorms of its own.
“When a fire makes its own weather, that’s a different beast,” said Dr. Amita Rao, a bushfire scientist who has spent two decades studying fire behavior in Australian landscapes. “Those vertical columns can project embers huge distances, and the localised updrafts can change wind direction in minutes. It overwhelms even the best-laid containment plans.”
Communities on the line
On the ground, the responders came in a human tide. Hundreds of firefighters — volunteers and career crews — were mobilised from across Australia. Local Country Fire Authority brigades worked alongside Forest Fire Management teams and interstate reinforcements, and Prime Minister Anthony Albanese said Canberra had reached out to allies in Canada and the United States to discuss additional support.
“It’s the volunteer spirit you notice first,” said Chris Hardman from Forest Fire Management Victoria. “People turn up greasy, tired, determined. But the grief is real. When you lose homes, fences, a mate’s milking shed, a part of your life is gone.”
Neighbours became lifelines. In towns where phone reception is patchy and the mains sometimes fail, people ran hose lines from farm dams, ferried children and pets to safety, and opened community halls as temporary refuges. In one evocative image, a trio of old horse floats — battered but serviceable — were pressed into service to carry livestock away from flame fronts.
What this means in the long run
For many Australians, the images dredge up memories of the “Black Summer” fires of 2019–20, when blazes tore across vast swathes of eastern Australia. Back then, an estimated 18.6 million hectares burned, thousands of homes were destroyed and entire communities inhaled toxic, smoky air for weeks. The trauma lingers like ash in the throat of the nation.
Climate scientists say extreme conditions like those seen this week are now more likely. According to long-term records from the Bureau of Meteorology and the CSIRO, Australia’s average surface temperature has risen by roughly 1.5°C since 1910 — a figure that aligns with elevated risks for heatwaves, drought and fire-weather severity.
“We still have a window to reduce the worst impacts, but it closes faster than we’d hoped,” said Dr. Rao. “What we see this season is a preview of what warmer, drier summers will look like if emissions trajectories aren’t curbed.”
Policy, protections and the push-pull of the economy
Australia sits at a knot in a global conversation. It is a country that has built much of its postwar prosperity on fossil fuels — coal and natural gas have been economic mainstays, driving exports and jobs. Yet those same fuels are central to the global warming that scientists point to as a key driver of worsening fire seasons.
“There’s a tension here that feels impossible sometimes,” admitted a local councillor in a regional town who asked not to be named. “People want secure jobs; they want heated homes and good schools. But they also walk through bushland and see the gum trees turned to cinders. How do we reconcile these things without leaving people behind?”
Some communities have turned to traditional knowledge for answers. Indigenous fire stewardship — low-intensity, controlled burning conducted in cooler months to reduce fuel loads — is being revisited and revived in many parts of Australia. Elders and fire practitioners say these practices can help make landscapes more resilient, but scaling them up requires resources, respect and cross-cultural collaboration.
“We have been doing this for millennia,” said Aunty Lorraine, a Wurundjeri elder who runs community burn workshops. “It’s about looking after Country. It’s not a quick fix, but when we work with the land rather than against it, the land looks after us.”
Questions we’re left with
When the smoke clears and the last ember is stamped out, three difficult questions hang in the air: How will communities rebuild? How will policy adapt to the new normal? And can the choices of nations — about energy, land use and emissions — be aligned with the urgent need to protect places like Longwood?
There are small promises of hope. Fire crews, exhausted and blistered, were still turning up to shift hoses and check hotspots. Neighbours who’d never met before shared generators and tarpaulins. Emergency services are re-evaluating pre-emptive strategies. International support lines are being opened. But hope alone is not a plan.
So ask yourself: if heat records keep tumbling and seasons stretch and twist, what does resilience look like for your community? How much of the burden is borne locally, and how much requires national and global shifts? These are not abstract questions. They are the ledger of human choices — political, economic, cultural — written in ash.
After the flames
In the mornings now, the sun rises through a silver haze. Blackened trunks stand like sentinels in paddocks. The birds are quieter, and the air tastes faintly of charcoal. In kitchens across the region, people pour stronger tea, mend fences, count what they’ve lost and start to plan.
“We will get through this, as we always do,” said Purcell, his voice steady but raw. “But getting through isn’t enough. We have to learn. We have to change what we do with the land and the temperature of our politics. Otherwise, we’ll keep repeating the same fire.”
For a country of great heat and deeper stories, the question remains: will the lessons of this orange night become a turning point, or another verse in a looping refrain of rebuild-and-repeat? The answer will be written in policy, in community resolve, and in the quieter choices each of us makes about the fuel we burn — literally and figuratively.
Who is Starmer’s Irish aide caught up in the Mandelson scandal?
The Quiet Architect: Inside the Rise—and Reckoning—of Morgan McSweeney
There are people in politics whose faces are plastered across billboards and breakfast shows. And then...
UN human rights body in ‘survival mode,’ warns senior official
When the Watchdog Is Starving: Inside the UN Human Rights Office’s Quiet Crisis
Walk into the headquarters of the UN human rights office in Geneva...
McEntee Meets US Officials to Discuss Digital Services Act Impact
A Dublin Voice in Washington: When Bytes, Trade and Geopolitics Collide
There are moments in diplomacy that feel less like stiff protocol and more like...
Storm Leonardo claims one life after battering Portugal and Spain
When the Rivers Forget Their Place: Storm Leonardo’s Wake Across Iberia
By late afternoon, a kind of stunned hush settled over towns that had never...
Imprisoned Iranian Nobel Laureate Mohammadi Begins Hunger Strike
A Nobel Laureate in Solitary: The Quiet Revolt of Narges Mohammadi
There are moments when silence is louder than any chant. In a small cell...