UK’s Reeves seeks tax rises to bolster national finances

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November 26, 2025

UK's Reeves comes back for more tax to bolster finances — Rachel Reeves delivered her budget statement in the House of Commons today

A Budget That Asks More: Walking the Tightrope of Taxes, Spending and Trust

On a crisp morning in Westminster, the hush that usually precedes a finance speech felt different — tighter, more expectant. People clustered outside cafés and bus stops checked their phones not for football scores but for one word: budget. When the Chancellor of the Exchequer walked into the chamber, the headlines had already leaked: fresh tax rises, squeezed pension perks and a thinner forecast for growth. For millions of Britons, this was not an abstract worksheet; it was a tally that would shape mortgages, retirement plans, and weekly groceries.

“I don’t relish it, but we must be honest about the state of our country,” Finance Minister Rachel Reeves told MPs, arguing that asking “everyone to make a contribution” was the only responsible path to steady the public finances. Her tone was measured, commanding — as if the office itself had taught her to speak in percentages and prudence.

Numbers that matter — and sting

The Office for Budget Responsibility, the government’s independent scorekeeper, cut its growth forecasts and released a balance sheet that will be debated in living rooms and trading rooms alike. Key figures from the OBR’s assessment crystallize the choices on the table:

New tax measures are expected to raise around £26.1 billion a year by 2029–30.
Headroom — the fiscal wiggle room the government can use while staying within its rules — was lifted to nearly £22 billion in five years’ time, up from a historically low £9.9 billion forecast in March.
The OBR trimmed its five-year GDP growth assumption to an average of 1.5% per year, 0.3 percentage points lower than its March outlook.

Those figures are not just numbers on paper. They translate into smaller pension incentives, higher tax bills for savers and investors, and, for some, the loss of a long-promoted relief.

What’s in the pot — and who pays

The budget leans heavily on tax design rather than headline spending cuts. The most politically charged moves include an extension of the income tax threshold freeze and a modest rise in the higher rate of income tax. Other measures announced by the OBR include:

A two-year freeze on income tax thresholds, which is set to add roughly £8 billion in revenue by 2029/30.
A scaling back of pension tax incentives through higher social security charges on salary-sacrificed pensions, expected to raise nearly £5 billion.
A 2 percentage point increase in tax rates on dividends, property income and savings income—bringing in about £2.1 billion.
An annual tax targeted at homes valued over £2 million, anticipated to raise roughly £0.4 billion by 2029/30.

“Pensions were the bedrock of a secure retirement for many of my clients,” said Dr. Amina Khan, a retirement economist at the Institute for Fiscal Studies. “When you tweak the incentives, you change behaviours. Some people may save differently, others may face reduced employer-sponsored contributions. That’s a big shift for predictable long-term planning.”

Voices on the street: Everyday realities

On a high street in Leeds, the budget landed differently. At a bakery, the owner, Nisha Patel, wiped her hands on her apron and sighed.

“We get asked by staff about pensions all the time,” she told me. “If contributions change, if take-home pay drops, that affects staff morale, recruitment, everything. Small businesses don’t work in abstract fiscal cycles — we feel every change.”

Across town, at a sheltered housing complex, pensioner Ron Baker put it plainly: “I worked forty years. I’m not thrilled about paying more tax on my savings. But I’d rather see a country that can afford decent hospitals and care.”

Meanwhile, in the City, the response was calmer than some expected. Government bond yields fell after an early release of the OBR report — evidence that markets, at least briefly, found reassurance in the tighter fiscal buffer. Sterling ticked higher against the dollar and euro. “Investors like certainty,” said an anonymous bond trader. “Headroom matters. It tells the market you can handle a shock.”

Politics, promises and the weight of history

Reeves reminded the Commons that last year’s £40 billion in tax rises — the largest since the 1990s, she noted — were intended as a one-off. Less than eighteen months later, she unveiled further measures, insisting that fairness guided her choices. “I will make further reforms to our tax system today to make it fairer and to ensure the wealthiest contribute the most,” she said.

But critics were swift. “This is a squeeze on workers and savers,” said Liam O’Connor, national officer at a major union. “When you tax wages and pensions, you hurt the people who can least afford it.” The Conservative opposition called for growth-boosting reforms rather than more taxes; others, like progressive campaigners, argued the wealthy could be taxed further still.

Beyond the budget: Bigger currents at play

Ask yourself: what kind of economy should we be building? The budget’s modest growth forecasts — an average of 1.5% a year — underscore a longer-term question about investment, productivity and the returns of a post-Brexit Britain. If growth is anaemic, the choice between higher taxes and lower services becomes starker.

Global forces amplify the stakes. Aging populations in advanced economies, the shifting geopolitics of trade, and the aftershocks of pandemic-era spending constrain policy space. The UK’s “headroom” matters not only to domestic voters but to international investors comparing sovereign risk across markets.

“This is the balancing act of modern democratic governance,” said Professor Elena Moretti, a political economist at the London School of Economics. “Do you protect tomorrow at the cost of discomfort today? Do you prioritize redistribution over growth? No single budget will resolve these tensions.”

Where does this leave ordinary people?

Practical consequences will unfold slowly: pension statements will crinkle with new numbers, divorce settlements may be recalculated, and some small savers will notice an extra dent in returns. For households already juggling bills, even small changes accumulate.

“People are tired of being told they must shoulder more,” said Nadia, a nurse in a London hospital. “We want to feel seen. It’s not just about balancing ledgers; it’s about dignity at the end of a hard day.”

Closing thoughts — and a question for you

This budget is not a climactic triumph nor a capitulation; it is a policy decision that trades immediate comfort for fiscal breathing room. Whether it proves wise will depend on growth that doesn’t yet exist, and on political choices that must follow.

So I’ll leave you with this: if your government asks you to tighten your belt today to buy stability tomorrow, what would you need to see in return? Better public services, clear plans to boost productivity, or a fairer tax code that truly leans on wealth rather than wages? The answer shapes not only ballots but the social fabric of the next decade.

Teenagers File Legal Challenge to Block Australia’s Social Media Ban

By

hanad

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November 26, 2025

Teenagers seek to block Australia's social media ban — More than one million accounts held by Australian teenagers under 16 are to be deactivated on 10 December

A nation’s scroll is suddenly a court case: Australia’s ban on under‑16s goes to the High Court

On an ordinary spring morning in a Sydney suburb, a 15‑year‑old would normally be reaching for their phone between bites of Vegemite toast and the school run. Instead, two weeks before a sweeping law that will knock more than a million teenage accounts offline, lawyers in Canberra filed papers that could decide whether that routine survives.

The Digital Freedom Project, a campaigning group, has launched a constitutional challenge in the High Court of Australia, naming two teenagers—Noah Jones and Macy Neyland—as the plaintiffs. The case seeks to halt a law passed last November that will bar children under 16 from using major social platforms — YouTube, TikTok, Snapchat and Facebook and Instagram run by Meta — when it comes into force on 10 December.

The human face of a headline

“This isn’t just about memes,” Macy tells me over the phone, her voice steady. “It’s where I learn about climate strikes, where I argue with friends about politics, where I make art. Young people like me are the voters of tomorrow — why should we be silenced?”

Noah, a keen debater preparing for mock parliament, added, “You don’t stop people from reading newspapers because they might be misinformed. You educate. Locking us out is a blunt instrument.”

These are the faces the legal papers seek to protect: teenagers whose daily lives — friendships, learning, activism — are threaded through apps now facing a blanket prohibition for their age group. It is a striking, personal cast for what might otherwise read as technocratic lawfare.

What’s in the law — and who it hits

The Australian government’s measure is among the most ambitious attempts anywhere to limit minors’ access to social media. Officials say it responds to mounting evidence — from researchers and clinicians — that excessive social media use can harm young teens’ mental health: exposure to disinformation, cyberbullying and damaging body‑image content were cited as key drivers for reform.

When the ban takes effect, more than one million accounts registered to users under 16 in Australia are expected to be deactivated. Platforms that refuse to comply could face fines up to A$49.5 million (around €27.8 million).

Communications Minister Anika Wells has defended the law vigorously. “We are on the side of parents, not platforms,” she told parliament after the litigation was announced. “This government will not be intimidated by threats and legal challenges.”

A constitutional snag: free political communication?

The embryo of the legal fight is constitutional. Australia does not have an express bill of free speech as in the United States, but the High Court has long recognised an implied freedom of political communication as essential for the functioning of the democracy. The Digital Freedom Project argues the law “robs” young Australians of that implied right — preventing them from participating in public debate on the very platforms where that debate increasingly happens.

John Ruddick, a member of the Libertarian Party in the New South Wales state parliament and president of the Digital Freedom Project, framed it bluntly: “This legislation is grossly excessive. It treats young Australians like wards of the state rather than citizens in formation.”

Industry sources reported that YouTube has signalled it may also seek to challenge the law in the High Court, arguing the ban unduly burdens political communication — adding another heavyweight player to the legal fray.

Beyond Australia: a global conversation

Australia’s move comes as regulators worldwide wrestle with the same knot: how to protect children online without consigning them to digital exile. In Brussels, the European Parliament has agreed on a non‑binding resolution proposing a default minimum age of 16 for social media access — though with scope for parental opt‑ins — and suggested 13 as an absolute minimum in other categories like video sharing and “AI companions.”

Closer to home, Ireland’s Tánaiste has said a minimum age approach could be considered there too, signalling how national debates are rippling across democracies. Parents and policymakers in countries from Canada to India are watching closely: how Australia balances child protection, parental authority and free expression could become a model—or a cautionary tale.

What the experts say

Professor Amelia Grant, a constitutional law scholar, told me, “Courts will have to weigh the government’s stated objective of protecting children against the less tangible but constitutionally significant right to political communication. It’s a classic proportionality test. The outcome will pivot on whether the law is seen as suitably tailored.”

Child psychologist Dr. Luis Chen, who works with adolescents in Melbourne, offered a different lens. “The harms the government cites are real — anxiety, cyberbullying, distorted body image — but the remedy matters. Blanket bans can drive behaviour underground. Digital literacy, parental tools, and platform design changes might be more effective than outright prohibition.”

On the street: parents, kids and the moral registers

In a suburban playground I visited, opinions were mixed. A mother named Aisha, pushing a stroller, said, “My 13‑year‑old sees things I don’t want her to. I support tighter rules.” Across the park, a 17‑year‑old named Marcus shrugged. “I get the worries, but shutting us out when we’re starting to make sense of the world? That’s the opposite of preparing us.”

These everyday conversations echo a larger social debate: who gets to decide how young people inhabit public life — parents, the state, or tech companies — and how to balance protection with civic education.

Why you should care

Ask yourself: when did your first political opinion find its audience? For many Millennials and Gen Z, it was online. If a generation’s early civic formation is redirected away from public platforms, what becomes of political literacy, debate, and dissent?

The Australian case will test not just constitutional language but social imagination. Can democracies craft rules that protect without shrinking the public square? Or do we risk curating a safe, sanitized youth experience that deprives them of the messy, formative encounters that shape citizens?

What’s next

Within weeks the High Court will be asked to weigh in; in the meantime, tech platforms, parents, legal groups and young people are preparing. The stakes are high: a ruling in favour of the government could embolden other jurisdictions to pursue similar restrictions; a decision for the challengers might force legislators to design more nuanced, rights‑respecting interventions.

Either way, the story is far from over. It is, at its heart, about how we teach the next generation to be both safe and engaged in a public square that increasingly fits in their pockets.

What do you think? Should teens be shielded from these platforms until 16, or should we be teaching them to navigate the digital world instead? Your scroll, your voice — and perhaps soon, the law — will have an answer.

Chinese leader Xi raises Taiwan issue in call with Trump

By

hanad

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November 26, 2025

China's Xi pushes issue of Taiwan in call with Trump — Donald Trump, pictured meeting Xi Jinping last month, praised 'extremely strong' US-China relations in a social media post after the call

A phone call, three capitals, and a question that won’t leave East Asia

On a crisp morning in Taipei, a vendor at the Shilin night market wiped the sweat from her brow, looked up from a pan of sizzling oyster omelettes and asked, almost rhetorically, “Do you think the people upstairs ever imagine how loud we are?” Her laugh was nervous, generous—an instinctive answer to the uncertainty that has become part of daily life around the island.

That everyday sound — scooters, hawkers, conversations about soccer and school fees — was suddenly threaded into a conversation between two of the world’s most consequential leaders. Yesterday, Chinese President Xi Jinping phoned U.S. President Donald Trump. The call was billed as an effort to “keep up the momentum” of a fragile trade détente. But the undercurrent was unmistakable: Taiwan.

A diplomatic tightrope

China’s foreign ministry said Taiwan featured prominently in the exchange, framing the island’s eventual reunification with the mainland as part of a historical post‑war settlement. That formulation — invoking the victory over fascism and the shaping of the international order after World War II — landed like a stone tossed into already choppy waters. For many in Taipei and beyond, it felt less like historical interpretation and more like pressure.

“Taiwan is not a bargaining chip,” Premier Cho Jung-tai told reporters in Taipei, his voice a mix of frustration and resolve. “We are a fully sovereign people. There is no such option as a return.”

Across the Taiwan Strait, Beijing insists the island is part of China. In Tokyo, the reaction was new and raw: Japanese Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi suggested this month that Tokyo could — under some circumstances — intervene militarily should Taiwan be attacked. That remark ignited an unusually public spat between two neighbors whose economic bonds run deep even as their security priorities collide.

Voices from the street

“We sell souvenirs to tourists from all over the world,” said Li Mei, who runs a small tea shop near the presidential building. “We don’t want to be the reason governments make big moves. But when leaders speak like this, it becomes real for us. People worry about schools, pensions, whether their kids can study abroad.”

In a port office in Ningbo, a dockworker named Zhang compared the scene to a game of supply-and-demand chess. “They fight with words, then with tariffs and quotas,” he said. “We feel it in our pockets — not just pride or politics.”

Beyond banners: the trade truce behind the rhetoric

Politicians often use culture and history to explain policy. But the practicalities of the U.S.–China relationship remain stubbornly material. The two leaders’ conversation comes on the heels of a tentative agreement struck in October in South Korea — a pact that eased certain export curbs and pledged large-scale purchases and tariff rollbacks that analysts say were meant to quiet markets and stabilize supply chains.

Under that pact, Beijing agreed to suspend, for one year, specific export restrictions on critical minerals that underpin advanced electronics and military systems. Washington, in turn, signaled it would trim some tariffs and Beijing committed to significant purchases of U.S. soybeans — reportedly 12 million tonnes by the end of this year and 25 million tonnes in 2026.

“This was not a photo-op handshake,” said Marta Alvarez, a trade economist based in Washington. “It was a pragmatic reset. But such resets are brittle. They help supply chains breathe; they don’t erase strategic competition.”

Rare earths: quiet clout

China’s leverage is deeply structural. The country dominates the mining and, crucially, processing of rare earths — the suite of 17 elements crucial for smartphones, electric vehicles, missile guidance and wind turbines. While global mined production is geographically distributed, China handles an outsized fraction of refining: estimates in recent years have put its role in processing at somewhere around 80–90 percent.

“If you want to build the next generation of chips or turbines, you can’t ignore where the input materials are stewarded,” said Dr. Keisha Patel, a materials scientist in London. “That’s why supply guarantees and diplomatic lines matter as much as tariffs.”

A regional furore: Tokyo’s new posture

Japan’s recent declaration that it might come to Taiwan’s defense — under certain conditions — has widened the diplomatic fissure. Tokyo and Beijing have a long history of fraught ties and tight commerce: trade, tourism and an intricate chain of manufacturing links. Yet the security conversation has shifted as Tokyo reassesses its posture in the face of a more assertive China.

“We have an obligation to look after regional stability,” Takaichi said in a press briefing following a call with President Trump, where she and the U.S. leader discussed Indo-Pacific challenges. “That conversation covered the full spectrum — diplomacy, economics, defence.”

In a coastal town on Kyushu, a retired fisherman named Hiroshi watched the news on a small television and sighed. “We sold fish to China for decades,” he said. “Now, at sea, we think: what if a ship can’t call our port because of politics tomorrow? That’s a worry for families.”

Ukraine and the global balancing act

Not all of the two leaders’ conversation revolved around East Asia. They discussed Ukraine, where a grinding conflict has dragged on for years and reshaped global geopolitics. Beijing has positioned itself as a potential broker, espousing neutrality while calling for a negotiated end to hostilities. Washington, for its part, pries at possibilities and pitfalls, with debate at home about the terms of any settlement.

“Great power diplomacy is now a multiplex,” said Prof. Laila Rahman, who studies international security. “You can’t decouple the Indo-Pacific from Europe. Energy flows, grain markets, and alliance politics tie them together.”

So what happens next?

Leaders confirmed follow-up moves: Mr. Trump reportedly plans a state visit to China in April, and Mr. Xi is expected in Washington later in 2026. Such meetings can harden commitments — or expose fragility.

Short term: expect quieter markets if the trade truce holds, and more diplomatic notes exchanged at the UN and bilateral level.
Medium term: national policymakers will try to reduce strategic dependencies, especially in minerals and semiconductors.
Long term: the region faces a choice — manage competition with strict rules, or risk episodic crises driven by miscalculation.

Amid the calculus and statecraft, ordinary lives continue. Children in Taipei still bike to school. Tea shops still brew. Ports still load containers, and grandparents in Kyoto still stitch kimonos. But what happens at the level of summits and calls threads through those lives with an inescapable logic: when states bargain, people feel the draft.

Questions for the reader

How would you balance the desire for stable trade and the fear of emboldened coercion? If a phone call can soothe markets and inflame borders, what tools should the international community use to make stability stick?

As the week progresses and diplomats fire off notes to the UN, watch the shipping manifests, the purchasing orders for chips and the soy shipments crossing oceans. Because beneath the rhetoric and history lessons, the real story is often written in contracts and cargo holds — and in the small, persistent rhythms of people who simply want to go about their lives.

Graham Linehan Exonerated Over Harassment Claim by Transgender Activist

By

hanad

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November 26, 2025

Graham Linehan cleared of harassing transgender activist — The Father Ted co-creator had been accused of harassing Sophia Brooks on social media between 11-27 October last year

When a Phone Became the Flashpoint: Inside the Linehan Case and the Wider Conversation It Ignited

On a gray morning in central London, a courtroom hummed with the quiet electricity that accompanies moments when private interactions are dragged into public reckoning. The defendant, Graham Linehan — best known as a co‑creator of the beloved sitcom Father Ted — stood before Westminster Magistrates’ Court as the judge delivered a split verdict that will be parsed across dinner tables, activist fora, and editorial pages for weeks to come.

Linehan was found guilty of criminal damage for grabbing and throwing the phone of transgender activist Sophia Brooks at a Battle of Ideas conference in London last October. He was, however, acquitted on the related charge of harassment. The punishment handed down was a £500 penalty. An appeal is planned.

A small object, a large question

It is striking how often the most ordinary objects — a phone, a microphone, a placard — become pivot points in larger cultural struggles. According to the charges, between 11–27 October last year the phone was taken and thrown, and the incident at the debate on 19 October became the focus. Linehan admitted to taking and throwing the device and said he acted in response to what he described as harassment and to prevent a crime. Judge Briony Clarke rejected that defense, concluding the act was reckless and did not amount to preventing a crime.

“I don’t think this was about free speech or protest,” said one attendee who watched the exchange and asked not to be named. “It was a sudden escalation. Phones are our ledger of the modern day — everyone instinctively reaches for them.”

The judge also found Linehan credible on the harassment allegation, ruling his conduct did not meet the legal threshold for that charge. At times, she said, she found elements of the complainant’s testimony not entirely truthful, though she stopped short of dismissing it. “The court cannot and should not be the arbiter of the entire gender identity debate,” Judge Clarke said — a line that underscores the judiciary’s careful navigation between law and culture.

The human backdrop

To paint the moment in human terms: imagine a lecture hall filled with eager and anxious faces, a panel of speakers, and the low thrum of audience phones. For some in attendance, the Battle of Ideas — a festival of debate that draws thinkers across the ideological spectrum — is a sanctuary for free exchange. For others it is a stage where wounds are reopened.

“I came to listen, not to be part of a spectacle,” said Zara, a 29‑year‑old volunteer at the event. “When things boiled over, people on both sides were shaken.”

Outside the court, emotions were similarly mixed. A transgender rights campaigner, holding a laminated sign demanding safety at public events, told me: “This isn’t only about one phone. It’s about a pattern where trans people are interrupted, recorded, and sometimes threatened in public spaces.” Nearby, a supporter of Linehan argued: “He felt provoked — you could see it. People push and push, and then someone snaps. That doesn’t always make you a criminal.”

What the law says — and what it can’t do alone

Criminal damage is a fairly straightforward legal concept: deliberately or recklessly destroying or damaging someone else’s property can attract criminal liability. Harassment, by contrast, is assessed on patterns and impact: does the conduct amount to alarming, distressing, or disturbing a person on repeated occasions or in a way that is oppressive? The court’s bifurcated findings reflect those different legal standards.

“In cases like this, courts have to balance competing rights — the right to freedom of expression, and the right to personal security and dignity,” said a legal scholar who studies hate crimes and free speech law. “Judges don’t make policy; they evaluate evidence against legal tests.”

Timeline of the case

19 October: Incident at the Battle of Ideas conference — phone taken and thrown.
11–27 October: Period within which the alleged offences were said to have occurred.
Court hearing: Judge finds Linehan guilty of criminal damage, not guilty of harassment; £500 penalty issued. Appeal to be filed.

Why this matters beyond the headlines

There is a reason this case resonated. It straddles cultural flashpoints that are roiling many democracies: debates over gender identity, the policing of speech in public spaces, and how civic life can be kept safe for dissenting voices and vulnerable communities alike. For activists and journalists, the scene is recognizable: a debate that escalates, a recording device that becomes evidence and symbol, a courtroom that must translate messy social conflict into tidy legal categories.

Advocacy groups on both sides have used this case to amplify broader concerns. Trans rights organisations warn that public forums have become riskier for trans people, citing frequent online abuse and threats that sometimes spill into the street. Critics of censorship and speech regulation point to incidents like this to argue that high emotions shouldn’t automatically be criminalised.

“We need to ask: how do we host a civil public square in a time of polarised identity politics?” a public policy analyst mused. “Courts are one piece of the puzzle. So is event management, the behaviour of audiences, and how platforms amplify conflict.”

Local color and context

London in autumn — the chill, the sudden light, the unmistakable smell of street food and diesel — is a city that thrives on public exchange. The Battle of Ideas festival, where this incident occurred, has become a seasonal ritual for those who relish vigorous debate. Riders on the Tube that day would have carried more than just their umbrellas; they would carry the anxieties of a culture arguing about who gets to speak and under what terms.

In the courthouse corridor, the human faces of those broader debates were close up: a 60‑year‑old woman in a tweed coat clutching a notebook, a student union organiser with a rainbow lanyard, a man in a campaign tee who would not smile for the press. Each had their own story about why this small act — the grabbing of a phone — mattered.

Questions to carry forward

What obligations do we have to one another in public life? How do organisers ensure safety without silencing difficult conversations? When does a spontaneous act of frustration become criminal behaviour? These are not questions courts can answer alone, nor are they questions that will vanish with an appeal.

“We should ask how to make spaces both open and safe,” said a community mediator who has worked on dialogue between polarised groups. “That requires rules, trained stewards, and a commitment to listening that goes beyond shouting matches.”

As this case moves toward appeal, it will continue to be a touchstone for conversations on the limits of protest, the protection of personal property, and the enduring struggle to live with difference. For anyone who worries about the declining civility of public life, the image of a phone arcing through the air is a stark reminder: our devices hold our conversations, our evidence, and sometimes, our wounds.

So what should you take away from this story? Perhaps the simplest: that one small action can illuminate deep fractures — and that repairing the social fabric will require more than a courtroom verdict. It will need civic courage, thoughtful rules, and a willingness to hear the stories on both sides without flattening them into slogans.

UN reports: Every 10 minutes a woman is killed by someone they know

By

hanad

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November 26, 2025

UN: Woman killed by person known to them every 10 minutes — The 50,000 figure - based on data from 117 countries - breaks down to 137 women per day, or around one woman every ten minutes (stock image)

Every Ten Minutes: The Quiet Siege Inside Homes Around the World

Imagine standing in a crowded market at noon — the chatter, the vendors calling, the smell of roasting coffee — and every ten minutes, somewhere beyond the stalls and behind locked doors, a life is snuffed out by someone who should have been a protector. That is the relentless tempo of a cruelty most of us try not to hear: in 2024, roughly one woman or girl every ten minutes was killed by an intimate partner or a family member, according to a recent United Nations report. The drumbeat is steady. The numbers are cold. The sorrow is everywhere.

The Numbers That Refuse to Be Ignored

UN agencies compiling homicide data from 117 countries estimate approximately 50,000 women and girls were killed by partners or close relatives last year. Put another way: around 137 women per day. In more stark relief, nearly 60% of female victims of homicide were murdered by someone in their intimate circle — spouses, fathers, brothers, uncles, even mothers — while only about 11% of male homicide victims were killed by someone close to them.

These are not merely statistics. They are a map of where danger lives: the home. No region was untouched, but Africa reported the largest absolute number — roughly 22,000 killings — a tragedy that reflects intersections of poverty, weak justice systems, and social norms that can shelter abusers. And while the headline total is slightly lower than the figure released last year, experts warn this does not necessarily signal progress. Variations in which countries report timely, disaggregated data can make year-on-year comparisons misleading.

Close Doesn’t Mean Safe

When we picture homicide, we often imagine strangers in dark alleys. But the UN findings force us to reframe that image. “The most dangerous place for a woman is still the place she should trust the most,” said Dr. Leila Mensah, a sociologist who studies gender-based violence. “That’s a difficult truth for families and communities to absorb.”

For many survivors and neighbors, the warning signs were there long before the final act. Controlling behavior, jealous surveillance, threats, and harassment — sometimes amplified and recorded via phones — frequently form a grim continuum that ends in fatal violence. “He started sending me messages at all hours, checking my location,” a woman in Accra told a local advocacy group. “When I blocked him, he made sure the whole neighborhood knew my every move.” The escalation is familiar to counselors and frontline workers: what begins as coercion can morph into murder.

Technology: Amplifying Old Harm in New Ways

Technology has expanded the reach of abusers. Non-consensual image-sharing, doxxing (publishing personal information online), and deceptively realistic deepfake videos have become tools of humiliation, control, and retraumatization. “Abusive conduct now has a digital footprint,” observed Maya Ortiz, a legal director at a global digital-rights NGO. “Perpetrators weaponize apps and platforms to stalk, degrade, and terrorize — and those digital acts often precede or accompany physical violence.”

The report the UN released highlights how technology can be both a tool of harm and a potential avenue for help: from apps that let women call for assistance discreetly to online helplines that circumvent local barriers. But experts underline a stark gap: the law in many countries has not kept pace with the ways violence manifests online and offline.

Why the Numbers Aren’t the Whole Story

Data is a lantern in the dark, but the lantern doesn’t always reach every corner. The UN cautions that the slight dip from last year’s estimate should be read with care. Some countries improved reporting, others fell silent, and many still lack the capacity to collect gender-disaggregated homicide data consistently. “You cannot fix what you can’t see,” said a forensic epidemiologist who requested anonymity. “Underreporting, inconsistent definitions, and limited resources all hide more of the problem.”

Even where data exists, cultural and institutional obstacles remain. In communities where honor, shame, or family reputation suppress reporting, homicides may be misclassified or not investigated. Survivors who escape violence often face economic precarity and social isolation, reducing the likelihood that earlier incidents will ever enter official statistics.

Voices from the Ground

Walk through many cities and you’ll find small acts of resistance: graffiti that reads “Not your property”; neighborhood watches that include women trained in de-escalation; grassroots shelters offering hot meals and legal counsel. In a portside neighborhood of Buenos Aires, an outreach worker named Lucia describes the community’s response. “We hang a small blue ribbon outside a safe house — it tells other women, ‘You are not alone’,” she said. “It is not enough, but it is a beginning.”

Across the Sahel, a men’s group known as Fathers for Dignity meets weekly to dismantle toxic notions of masculinity. “We teach our sons to see strength in care, not in domination,” said Ibrahim, one of the founders. “Changing a culture is slow. But it is possible.”

What Experts Say

“Femicide is not random; it is patterned,” explained Dr. Anika Rao, a criminologist. “You can look at predictors: prior domestic violence, access to firearms, economic stress, and norms that tolerate violence. Interventions that target these predictors — from legal reform to economic support for survivors — save lives.”

A Global Challenge, A Shared Responsibility

The UN has called for laws and policies that recognize the full scope of violence, including its online iterations, and hold perpetrators accountable before abuse escalates into murder. Advocates are pushing for comprehensive strategies: better data collection, victim-centered policing, accessible shelters, consistent enforcement of restraining orders, and education campaigns that start in schools.

But law and policy are only part of the remedy. Community-based solutions that center survivors’ voices, that fund midwife-mentors, that teach boys nonviolent conflict resolution, and that create safety nets for women in precarious economic circumstances are equally vital.

What Can You Do?

Ask yourself: how often do you look away? When was the last time you checked whether a friend had access to resources? If you are a voter, what are candidates doing about domestic violence and digital abuse in your country? If you run a company, does your workplace policy protect employees from abuse?

Support local organizations that run shelters and hotlines.
Encourage lawmakers to fund comprehensive data collection and victim services.
Teach children respectful relationships and consent early.
Hold platforms accountable for the misuse of technology.

Closing: The Quiet Work of Bearing Witness

There is sorrow in naming these deaths, but there is also power. When we stop normalizing violence that hides behind family facades, when we insist that online harm is not “less real,” when we fund prevention and support survivors, the drumbeat can slow. Healing is messy. Justice is slow. But both begin when a society refuses to look away.

Will you be part of that refusal? If not now, when?

Italy Criminalizes Femicide as Distinct Crime, Establishes Life Imprisonment Penalty

By

hanad

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November 26, 2025

Femicide to be specific crime in Italy with life sentence — Women from anti-violence organisations held protests in recent days in cities across Italy

A Night of Candles, a Day of Law: Italy Draws a Line Against Femicide

The November air in Turin had the brittle edge of approaching winter. Under the glow of streetlamps, a small crowd gathered by the silhouette of the Mole Antonelliana, their faces lit by candles and the screens of phones recording each chant, each name whispered into the night.

“We are here to remember and to make sure this stops,” a young woman in a red scarf told me, voice low but steady. “If nothing else, tonight we remind the country that names were lives.” Around her, dozens of candles flickered in the breeze, each flame a private memorial and a public demand.

That same evening, in Rome, the Italian parliament voted decisively to add a new, named crime to the penal code: femicide — the intentional killing of a woman or girl motivated by discrimination, hatred or gender-based violence. The bill passed with 237 votes in favour and none against, a rare moment of unanimity that comes after years of activism, outrage and grief.

What the new law does — and why it matters

The new article creates a specific category of homicide “based on the characteristics of the victim.” In practice, that means when prosecutors can show a killing was motivated by gendered hatred or discriminatory violence, the offender faces life imprisonment. Previously, Italian law only listed aggravating circumstances — for instance if the killer was the spouse or a relative — but did not single out the gendered nature of the crime itself.

Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni hailed the vote, calling the measure a tool to “defend the freedom and dignity of every woman.” It is a symbolic and legal shift: naming femicide recognizes that many homicides of women are not isolated acts of personal rage but are rooted in gendered power, control and often in patterns of domestic abuse.

Numbers that push a country to action

The urgency behind the law is not abstract. A United Nations report marking the International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women said roughly 50,000 women and girls were killed last year by partners or family members worldwide — a staggering toll. In Italy, national statistics institute Istat reports that of the 327 homicides recorded in 2024, 116 involved female victims; in 92.2% of those cases the alleged killer was male.

These numbers are blunt instruments of truth: they tell us how many lives were extinguished, and they also sketch the patterns that many activists have argued need to be addressed not just as crimes but as a societal problem. “When we count and name, we change how we think about responsibility,” said an organizer at the Turin vigil. “We stop saying ‘crime of passion’ and start saying ‘gendered violence.'”

Voices from the streets and the courtrooms

At the Turin demonstration, the mood was measured rather than theatrical. Many attendees were survivors of abuse or family members of victims, others were university students and elder activists who have spent decades trying to nudge the law and public opinion. A middle-aged man placed a single white rose beside a candle.

“My sister was killed by someone who never seemed to be stopped,” he said, reading from a sheet with careful eyes. “The courts treated it like a tragic accident. I hope this law means the state will call this what it was.” His hands trembled; people around him reached out and squeezed his shoulder.

Legal scholars, too, welcomed the move with cautious optimism. “Creating a stand-alone offence for femicide is important for visibility and for the message it sends,” explained a law professor who has studied gender violence statutes for decades. “But laws are tools. Their impact will depend on implementation: training police to recognize gender-motivated patterns, on prosecutorial willingness to pursue motive, and on support for survivors so they can escape cycles of abuse before they turn lethal.”

Questions that remain

Because the new offence hinges on motive — killing “out of discrimination, hatred or violence” — prosecutors will shoulder a burden of proof that can be complex. Motive in domestic killings can be entangled with jealousy, mental health issues and longstanding abuse. Establishing the gendered character of a crime may require careful investigation of texts, threats, prior convictions and domestic history.

“Courts will need to develop a forensic literacy about gendered violence,” the law professor said. “That means more than legal training — it means multi-disciplinary investigations that take testimonies from friends, neighbours, social services, and look at patterns, not just single events.”

Local color: how culture and conversation are shifting

Italy’s struggle with femicide is shaped by the intimate and public contours of daily life: family gatherings, small-town reputations, the centrality of partnership in social identity. Yet it is also changing. In cafes and on social media, conversations that once landed as taboo are now being voiced openly. Women in the workplace report being more willing to speak about harassment. Men are joining vigils. Churches and unions are holding forums.

“We have a culture that prizes certain notions of masculinity — honour, control — and these can become toxic,” said a youth worker in Naples. “But I’m seeing young men challenge that now. They come to workshops and say, ‘I don’t want to be part of a system that hurts women.’ That’s a small hope, but it’s real.”

At the vigil in Turin, a university student handed out pamphlets with helpline numbers and a hand-drawn map of safe spaces in the city. “We want to make sure the law isn’t just symbolic,” she told me. “This is about prevention as much as punishment.”

More than punishment: prevention, services, and a cultural shift

That balance — between punitive measures and prevention — is central. Policymakers and activists alike agree that more shelters, greater funding for victim services, integrated databases for restraining orders and targeted education programs are critical to reduce future killings. In countries that have curtailed intimate-partner femicides, the success rarely rests on a single law; it comes from a web of social investments.

“A law that points a finger is necessary, but it is not sufficient,” the law professor said. “We must also invest in economic independence for women, in mental health services, in policing that protects rather than shames survivors.”

Looking outward: the significance beyond Italy

Italy’s move joins a wider reckoning taking place across the globe. Many nations are wrestling with how to name and prosecute gender-motivated killings without reducing the issue to headline-grabbing punishments. The debate reaches into questions of education, media representation, and how communities respond when warning signs appear.

So what should you, the reader, take away from this? Will naming femicide change the stories we tell at kitchen tables, the way neighbours intervene, the resources governments allocate? It’s tempting to be cynical — laws can be words on paper. But sometimes words are the hinge that lets societies open or close.

As the candles in Turin guttered toward dawn, a woman in a grey coat folded up her pamphlets. “I didn’t come for the law,” she said quietly. “I came because I want my niece to grow up in a country where a man killing his partner is called by its name.” She looked up at the sky. “If this helps even one mother sleep easier, it was worth it.”

Whether that promise will be kept depends on what happens in police stations, in courtrooms, in classrooms, and in living rooms across Italy. Naming a crime is an important beginning — now comes the far harder work of changing the conditions that let such crimes happen in the first place.

Italy to Classify Femicide as Specific Crime, Impose Life Sentences

By

hanad

-

November 26, 2025

Italy Names the Crime: Femicide Becomes a Standalone Offence — A Victory Lit by Candlelight, Questions Still Burning

On a damp November evening in Turin, hundreds gathered beneath the amber glow of street lamps. They came with scarves knotted tight against the cold, with taped photographs, with handwritten placards that read names and demands. A tram clattered past, indifferent. A woman near the fountain began to read, voice steady: “We remember them not as statistics but as daughters, sisters, mothers.”

By morning in Rome, the Italian parliament had enshrined that sentiment into law. Lawmakers voted 237 to 0 to add a new article to the penal code creating a distinct category of homicide motivated by the characteristics of the victim — a legal recognition of femicide as a crime in itself, with life imprisonment as the prescribed sentence when the killing is intentional and rooted in discrimination, hatred or gendered violence.

Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni framed the move as a matter of dignity. “This law defends the freedom and dignity of every woman,” she said after the vote. It was the kind of rhetorical seal politicians relish: decisive, public, unanimous. “We have given the state a new instrument to name and punish an old evil,” she added.

From Aggravation to Autonomy: Why the Change Matters

The shift is both symbolic and structural. Until now, Italian law typically treated gendered killings under aggravating circumstances — for instance, when the perpetrator was a spouse or relative. The new provision creates a standalone offence: homicide defined by the victim’s gender or other defining characteristics.

For survivors and activists, that differentiation matters. “When you name something, you can see it, you can track it, you can fight it,” said Maria Bianchi, director of a Turin anti-violence centre, who was among those at last night’s vigil. “For decades the law treated these deaths as private tragedies. This recognizes them as political, social, hateful acts that require a specific response.”

It also changes reporting and statistical practice. Advocates say that by categorising femicides explicitly, authorities will be better able to measure trends, identify hotspots and allocate resources — from counseling to safe housing — where they are most needed.

Numbers That Refuse to Be Ignored

The vote came as the United Nations marked the International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women, releasing a grim figure: approximately 50,000 women and girls were killed worldwide last year by partners or family members.

Closer to home, Italy’s national statistics institute, Istat, reported that of the 327 homicides recorded in the country in 2024, 116 involved women and girls. In 92.2% of those cases, men were the perpetrators — a stark arithmetic that underscores the gendered pattern.

“Those numbers are not abstractions,” said Giulia Romano, a social worker who runs emergency shelter placements. “Each statistic is a person who was known to someone. And too often we hear — if we had known, if someone had listened — but the listening systems were weak.”

Voices from the Streets: Protesters, Experts and a Survivor

At the Turin demonstration, the faces in the crowd were as varied as Italy itself: students in wool beanies, retired teachers with trembling hands, a young mother pushing a stroller. An elderly man laid down a single red rose and said softly, “This is a wound for all of us.”

“We’re glad the law passed,” said Anna Rossi, 34, who traced the name on her placard. “But laws don’t warm beds at night or keep abusers away from doorstep windows. We need shelters. We need hotlines answered in the middle of the night.”

Criminologists were cautiously optimistic. “Legislative recognition is important — it signals a social condemnation,” said Professor Lorenzo De Santis of the University of Milan. “But the deterrent effect of harsher sentences is mixed. Prevention, rapid intervention, and integrated services matter more for reducing repeat violence.”

A prosecutor who wished to remain unnamed told me that the new statute will change charging practices. “Prosecutors will have a clearer legal frame to bring these cases with the gravity they deserve,” she said. “But conviction depends on evidence and the work of investigators, who are stretched thin.”

Local Color: A Country’s Public Squares as Stages of Memory

Italy’s public life is threaded through its piazzas and cafés, and those spaces are where grief and resistance meet. In Rome, a candlelit procession snaked past churches where bells tolled at dusk; in Palermo, a mural of a woman’s silhouette has become a meeting point for families of victims. These are small rituals of memory — public, stubborn, necessary.

“We marked the day here because public grief must be seen,” said Paolo, a volunteer handing out leaflets, his voice raw with the effort of so many names. “If we forget them in closed rooms, the pattern continues.”

What Comes Next: Policy, Prevention, and the Long Work of Culture Change

Passing a law is the beginning, not the end. The new article gives judges the statutory language to impose life sentences where homicide is proven to be driven by gender-based hatred, but it does not automatically provide the supportive infrastructure that survivors urgently need.

Emergency shelters and long-term housing must be funded and staffed.
Training for police and prosecutors on gender-based violence needs expansion.
Education campaigns in schools and workplaces must confront misogyny and entitlement.
Data collection and monitoring mechanisms must be created so policy responses are evidence-based.

“If you want to stop a killing, you don’t start with a gavel; you start with prevention,” said Dr. Alessandra Vitale, a sociologist who studies intimate partner violence. “That means mental health services, economic supports for women who want to leave, swift protective measures, and cultural education. Punishment is crucial — but it arrives after the harm.”

The debate is not purely Italian. Across Europe and beyond, countries are wrestling with whether to create special femicide statutes or to beef up existing domestic abuse laws. The outcome in Italy will be watched by legislators and activists worldwide as a potential blueprint or cautionary tale.

Questions to Leave You With

What does justice look like for survivors and for families whose loss can never be remedied? Is naming femicide as a distinct crime enough to alter the daily realities of those living with menace in their homes? And finally: how do societies move from consensus in parliament to consensus in the kitchen, the workplace, the schoolyard?

Tonight, candles still flicker in Turin and elsewhere, a fragile, human light against a long dark. The law now carries a name and a severe penalty. The work ahead is to make sure that name carries with it prevention, protection, and the steady, sometimes invisible labor of changing minds.

“We passed a law,” Maria Bianchi said as the crowd dispersed, voice low with relief and resolve. “Now we must pass a culture. We owe it to every woman whose name is written on those placards.”

121 maxbuus oo laga sii daayay xabsiyada dowlad deegaanka Soomaalida

By

aden

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November 26, 2025

Nov 26(Jowhar)-Hay’adda Xuquuqul Insaanka Itoobiya (EHRC) ayaa shaacisay in 121 qof oo si sharci-darro ah loogu hayay saldhigyo kala duwan oo boolis ah gudaha Gobolka Soomaalida la sii daayay, iyadoo sidoo kale laba suxufi oo xukuno ku fulayeen lagu fasaxay cafis dowladeed.

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Trump pushes back Ukraine deal deadline; envoy to meet Putin

By

hanad

-

November 26, 2025

Trump changes Ukraine deal deadline, envoy to meet Putin — US envoy Steve Witkoff may be joined in Moscow by the president's son-in-law Jared Kushner

On Air Force One, a Deadline Melts — and War Rages Below

They say crisis sharpens will; sometimes it simply blurs deadlines. On a gray morning above the Atlantic, with turkey on the mind and an insoluble war on his desk, US President Donald Trump told reporters aboard Air Force One that the hard line he’d set for Ukraine — a Thanksgiving deadline to accept a US-backed peace blueprint — was no longer carved in stone.

“The deadline for me is when it’s over,” he said, voice loose as the clouds beneath the aircraft. His remark was at once casual and consequential: a president publicly turning away from a calendar moment he had previously elevated to geopolitical significance.

The Players and the Puzzle

The drama centers on an unlikely cast. At its core is Steve Witkoff, the US negotiator now slated to fly to Moscow to meet President Vladimir Putin. Alongside him, according to the White House, may be Jared Kushner — the president’s son-in-law who played a discreet role in brokering a fragile Gaza ceasefire.

From Geneva to Abu Dhabi, from conference rooms to Kremlin antechambers, diplomats have been racing to rewrite a plan that many feared privileged Moscow’s demands and diminished Ukraine’s sovereignty. What began as a 28-point outline — widely reported to include prohibitions on Ukraine joining NATO and the surrender of territory to Russia — has, according to US officials, been revised to better reflect Kyiv’s interests. An insider briefed on the latest draft told AFP the new version was “significantly better.”

Where talks stand

Details remain thin. Officials say progress has been made; one U.S. spokesman called discussions “optimistic.” Paris, however, injected a cool realism. French President Emmanuel Macron warned publicly that there was “clearly no Russian willingness” for a ceasefire.

Meanwhile, the Kremlin confirmed Witkoff’s visit — and, in a reminder that diplomacy in this conflict is always a theatre, said he would arrive next week with other US officials. Yuri Ushakov, a foreign policy adviser to Mr. Putin, told Russian television that “a preliminary agreement has been reached” on the scheduling.

Negotiation by Telephone — and the Muddled Messaging

Bloomberg reported that on 14 October Witkoff had a phone call with Ushakov in which he urged Moscow to coordinate on a ceasefire plan and push Mr. Putin to raise it with Mr. Trump. That call, the outlet said, also discussed arranging a Trump–Putin call before Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky’s White House visit that week.

Mr. Trump, when asked about that reporting, shrugged. “That’s what a dealmaker does,” he said. “Very standard negotiation.” It’s a shrug that unsettles many in Kyiv. “Deals at 30,000 feet rarely feel like protection on the ground,” said Olena, 36, who runs a small café in Kyiv’s Shevchenkivskyi district and spent the week tending to customers nervous about air-raid sirens.

On the Ground: Smoke, Sirens, and a City That Keeps Counting

Because while suits shuffle papers, rockets keep falling. The war that exploded on 24 February 2022 continues to scar landscapes and lives. This month’s Russian missile and drone strikes battered Kyiv in the dead of night — powerful explosions around 1am, fires in apartment blocks, and officials reporting seven people killed. Zaporizhzhia endured a major attack that damaged at least seven high-rise buildings and left a dozen hospitalized.

In the Pechersk district of Kyiv, residents emerging from basements after dawn described a scene of shattered balconies and soot-streaked facades. “You wake up with the taste of smoke and the reflex to check your phone for ‘all clear,’” said Mykhailo, a retired schoolteacher who has spent the war keeping an eye on his building’s elderly tenants. “It never feels like the negotiations up in palaces understand that.”

What’s actually on the table?

We know some of the specifics that worried Kyiv and Europe. The initial US-authored framework reportedly capped Ukraine’s future military manpower at 600,000 — a figure raised in later drafts to 800,000, according to a source familiar with the revisions. It also included clauses that many read as curtailing Ukraine’s Euro-Atlantic options. Those points sparked alarm and forced a diplomatic re-think.

“Any settlement that ignores the right of a sovereign nation to choose its alliances is not a peace built to last,” said a senior analyst at a European think tank who asked not to be named. “You cannot trade the future security of a people for a short-term press release.”

Stakeholders and Stakes

Diplomats: US negotiators, Russian aides, Ukrainian representatives, European allies and a cohort of 30 supportive countries meeting remotely.
Locales: Kyiv, Zaporizhzhia, Geneva, Abu Dhabi, and soon, perhaps, Moscow.
What’s at risk: territory, security guarantees, Ukraine’s ability to join defense alliances, and the long-term stability of European order.

Voices From All Sides

Not everyone agrees that a deal — even a rapid one — would be a betrayal. “If a pause in the fighting can save civilian lives, open corridors for aid and protect nuclear facilities, we owe it to people to test the option,” an EU foreign policy adviser said. “But a pause is not a peace if it freezes Russian gains.”

In Kyiv, opinions are split and raw. “We don’t want to be abandoned on a map,” said Kateryna, who fled easternmost fighting zones and now volunteers at a shelter. “But we are tired. Every day of war costs our future.”

Why This Matters Beyond Borders

What unfolds in these negotiations is about more than territory. It is a test of how democracies balance realpolitik with principles — of whether allied capitals can project a consistent stance while still pressing for an end to bloodshed. It is also a reminder that modern wars are fought not just on the ground but in the airwaves and the inboxes: leaks, recordings, and social media posts now shape diplomacy as much as closed-door conversations.

Ask yourself: would you prefer an imperfect ceasefire that pauses the killing today, or a protracted fight that might preserve long-term rights but carries an unending humanitarian toll? There is no answer that doesn’t carry cost.

What Comes Next?

In the near term, watch these markers: Witkoff’s Moscow visit and whether Kushner accompanies him; whether a Trump–Putin call is arranged; the response from Kyiv to any proposed terms; and, crucially, whether the strikes continue even as diplomats speak.

Longer-term, the outcome will speak to the changing contours of global diplomacy — where private businessmen become envoys, where unconventional actors bridge conflicts, and where the balance between expediency and principle is negotiated in plain sight.

For Ukrainians living under the drone hum and the quiet of rationed hope, the talking will go on. For the rest of the world watching, the question remains — can a peace plan be both quick and just, or does haste always carry the seeds of future conflict?

Whatever happens next, the cities counting ruins and the families counting loved ones are unlikely to accept words without security. For now, the clock has been put back in the pocket, but the war’s percussion continues to set the rhythm.

Maxkamadda gobolka Banaadir oo 6 sano xarig ah ku xukuntay Maryan Maxamed Nuur

By

aden

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November 26, 2025

Nov 26(Jowhar)-Xafiiska Xeer Ilaaliyaha Guud ee Qaranka ayaa shaaciyey in Maryan Maxamed Nuur lagu soo oogay dacwad culus oo la xiriirta maalgelinta argagixisada, dhaqidda lacagaha sharci darrada ah iyo ku lug lahaanshaha falal argagixiso oo la xiriira kooxda Al-Shabaab.

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