Watch Kilauea Volcano Erupt, Spewing Lava Across Hawaii’s Landscapes

November 25, 2025

Watch: Hawaii's Kilauea volcano spews lava in eruption

When the Night Turns Orange: Kīlauea’s Latest Breath and the Island That Listens

There’s a particular hush that falls over the Kaʻū coastline when Kīlauea wakes. It is not the empty silence of a town at dawn, but a concentrated hush—part reverence, part apprehension—like a congregation waiting for an old storyteller to speak. Last weekend, the mountain spoke again.

Cameras operated by the United States Geological Survey’s Hawaiian Volcano Observatory captured molten light spilling from Kīlauea’s crater, a living cascade that lit the sky and stitched molten ribbons across the darkness. The observatory, which has been monitoring the volcano through cameras, seismometers, and gas sensors, told the public that another fountaining episode is likely in the near term—meaning more incandescent jets and rivers of lava may be on the way.

Kīlauea sits inside Hawaii Volcanoes National Park, a place of raw contrasts and sacred stories. That section of the park is closed for safety, and for a reason: the mountain has been in intermittent eruption since 23 December 2024. For residents and visitors alike, the closures are a reminder that the island is built on both creation and risk.

Living on the Edge of Creation

Ask anyone in Hilo, Pāhala, or Volcano village and they’ll tell you the same thing: living here means living with the knowledge that the ground beneath you can be both nursery and fury. “It’s how the islands keep growing,” said Mālama Koa, a hawker who has lived for decades on the slopes below the volcano. “My grandmother used to say Pele is always at work—sometimes she’s sewing new land, sometimes she’s reminding us who’s boss.”

Kīlauea is, by any measure, one of the planet’s most active volcanoes. Its eruptions don’t just make headlines; they redraw maps, re-route roads, and rewrite lives. From the summit to the rift zones that radiate outward, this volcanic system has a memory measured in decades—Puʻu ʻŌʻō’s long curtain of lava in the late 20th and early 21st centuries is just one chapter in an epic geological narrative.

Science in Motion

Scientists track Kīlauea closely. The USGS Hawaiian Volcano Observatory (HVO) has a battery of instruments constantly recording earthquakes, ground tilt, and volcanic gas emissions. “The webcams gave us an early look at tonight’s activity,” said Dr. Aiko Nakamura, a volcanologist with HVO, when asked about the weekend event. “We monitor for signs—changes in seismicity, the shape of the ground, and gas output—that signal another fountaining episode. Right now, those signals suggest more activity is possible.”

It’s a careful choreography of data and decision-making. When the lava begins to spout and fountains appear, scientists are not just witnessing beauty—they’re calculating hazard. Air quality can decline as sulfur dioxide and other volcanic gases are released. Lava flows can close roads and threaten infrastructure. For everyone’s safety, park authorities keep sections closed while monitoring continues.

The Human Weather: Stories Along the Lava Line

While scientists speak of plumes and pulses, locals speak of everyday reality. “When the glow starts at night, you don’t sleep as you did before,” said Leilani Pua, who runs a small café in Volcano village. “You open your windows and smell the ocean and the mountain, and you think about what could be lost—and what could be gained. It’s not just fear; it’s a kind of fierce respect.”

For many Native Hawaiian families, the eruptions are woven into cultural life. Hula, oli (chants), and stories of Pele—the goddess of fire and volcanoes—anchor the storm of molten rock in meaning and memory. “Pele is family,” said Kumu Hula Nohealani Kalama, who teaches hula and Hawaiian history. “We honor her. We adapt. Our elders taught us how to read the land and listen.”

On the flip side, tourism-dependent businesses feel the pinch when closures come. “We saw bookings cancel right away,” said Jonah Mendes, who manages a small lodge near the park’s entrance. “But our regulars, the ones who love this place, they call and say, ‘Be safe. Keep us posted.’ It’s community. We’re resilient, but eruption seasons test that.”

Practical Realities and Safety

Even for those who live far from the lava’s immediate reach, there are ripples to consider. Volcanic gas can travel with the wind, producing vog (volcanic smog) that affects air quality across large swaths of the island. Farmers, schools, and health officials watch those measurements closely.

Follow official channels: HVO and Hawai‘i Volcanoes National Park updates are the best sources for real-time information.
Respect closures: Trails and roadblocks are there to protect you—do not attempt to enter closed areas for a better view.
Air quality matters: Individuals with respiratory conditions should monitor local advisories and have plans to reduce outdoor exposure if vog rises.

Why This Matters to the World

What happens at Kīlauea is local in experience but global in importance. Volcanoes teach us about Earth’s inner furnace—the same force that built continents and drives plate tectonics. They also remind a modern world of an older truth: humans occupy a dynamic planet. In an era of climate crisis and rapid environmental change, living alongside active natural systems requires humility and adaptability.

But there is also a deeper lesson. Each glowing river of lava is a spectacular display of creation-in-motion. New land forms at the edge of these flows, and ecosystems eventually follow. “In a few years, new ʻōhiʻa and ferns will colonize the fresh rock,” noted Dr. Koa Anela, an island ecologist. “It’s dramatic and devastating and miraculous—often all at once.”

Final Thoughts: Watch, Listen, Learn

If the images from the USGS feel like a distant—if magnificent—show, remember this: volcanoes are more than background spectacle. For Islanders, Kīlauea’s rumblings are part of a living relationship with place. They demand caution, invite reverence, and offer a rare chance to witness planet-making in real time.

So, what should you take away if you live here or plan to visit? Observe the rules, listen to scientists and community leaders, and let the experience change you. If you’re watching the feeds from afar, consider the human stories behind each headline. How do we balance wonder and risk? How do our laws and cultures adapt when the ground itself refuses to be still?

In the end, Kīlauea is teaching in its own incandescent language. It humbles and inspires. It closes and creates. It invites us to be both spectators and citizens—present, patient, and profoundly aware of the wild world beneath our feet.

For real-time updates, follow the USGS Hawaiian Volcano Observatory and Hawai‘i Volcanoes National Park advisories, and support local communities that carry the daily work of living with Pele.

Federal Court Dismisses Cases Against Comey and James

hanad

November 25, 2025

Cases against Comey and James dismissed — James Comey was appointed to head the FBI by president Barack Obama in 2013 and was fired by Donald Trump in 2017 (file image)

The Day the Gavel Echoed Through Washington

On a cool weekday in the Eastern District of Virginia, a judge’s gavel landed like a meteor — sharp, sudden, and reshaping the legal landscape in ways that will ripple far beyond the courthouse steps.

US District Judge Cameron McGown Currie threw out criminal indictments against two towering figures of recent American political life — former FBI director James Comey and New York Attorney General Letitia James — not because a jury found them innocent or a prosecutor conceded weakness, but because the prosecutor who signed the charges had no lawful authority to do so.

“She had no legal authority,” Judge Currie wrote. Three words that, in the sterile geometry of legalese, felt like dynamite. The ruling did not exonerate or find guilt. It struck at process — at the architecture of how power is assigned and checked in a republic that prizes both the rule of law and the separation of powers.

A procedural wrinkle that blew up into a constitutional earthquake

The heart of the matter was an appointment: Lindsey Halligan, a former personal lawyer to Donald Trump, was installed as interim US attorney for the Eastern District of Virginia in September. She was handed two politically charged prosecutions that other career prosecutors in the office had declined to pursue for lack of credible evidence.

Halligan had no previous career as a federal prosecutor. Within weeks, she signed indictments accusing Comey of making false statements and obstructing Congress, and charging Letitia James with bank fraud and lying to a financial institution. Both defendants pleaded not guilty.

Attorneys for Comey and James argued that the appointment violated a federal statute limiting interim US attorney appointments to a single 120-day term, a safeguard Congress included to prevent the indefinite circumvention of Senate confirmation. If that protection is sidestepped repeatedly, critics say, a president could effectively place loyalists into office without the vetting Congress is meant to provide.

“This isn’t just about one person or two cases,” said a retired federal prosecutor I spoke with outside the courthouse. “It’s about the mechanism of accountability. If you can appoint and reappoint without Senate oversight, the balance tilts dangerously toward the executive.”

What the statute says — and why it matters

Under federal law, an interim US attorney can be appointed for 120 days after a vacancy. If the 120 days lapse without a Senate-confirmed successor, the district court may appoint someone. The complainants contended the way Halligan was cycled into the role circumvented that limit, effectively using administrative sleight-of-hand to keep a favored prosecutor in place.

The Justice Department countered that the attorney general has latitude to make interim appointments, and sought to paper over vulnerabilities by simultaneously naming Halligan a “special attorney” and stating that she had ratified the indictments. But Judge Currie saw the appointment as hollow — a prosecutorial hand without constitutional grip.

Politics on the courthouse lawn

To those paying attention, this was never merely a legal proceeding — it was part of a larger political posture. President Donald Trump had publicly pushed for aggressive legal steps against figures who had investigated him or criticized him. According to filings and public reports, Trump ordered then-Attorney General Pam Bondi to install Halligan after Erik Siebert, the office’s previous interim appointee, declined to bring charges.

“It felt like watching the gears of justice get greased in a room with the blinds drawn,” said a local political reporter. “You didn’t have to be cynical to sense the choreography.”

For supporters of the dismissals, the judge’s ruling is a vindication of constitutional form: appointments matter as much as allegations. “No person is above process, and no prosecutor can simply be placed into office to serve political will,” a constitutional law professor told me, leaning forward in the courthouse rotunda as if the marble absorbed every argument.

Dismissed, but not finished: the legal stage is reset

Judge Currie dismissed the cases “without prejudice,” a legal phrase that changes everything for the Department of Justice: the government can refile the charges under a prosecutor who is validly appointed. Critics worry, though, that refiling would only further entangle the Justice Department in partisan theater.

“The door is not closed,” observed one defense attorney. “The judge has given the government a second act. But that second act will need a different lead — and a far clearer commanding of statutory authority.”

Quick facts

120 — days specified by federal law for an interim US attorney appointment before other appointment mechanisms kick in.
Sept. — month in which Lindsey Halligan was appointed as interim US attorney for the Eastern District of Virginia.
Nov. 13 — date of a hearing in which Judge Currie raised doubts about the government’s position.

Voices from the courthouse — a collage

A doorman at a nearby restaurant shrugged and said, “You see a lot of suits here, but justice isn’t just suits and books. It’s about how rules protect the quiet from the loud.”

A Trump supporter I met on the courthouse steps said, “If these investigations were valid, they should be won in court. But if they’re political, they should be dismissed. I want fairness — not theatre.”

Meanwhile, a community organizer who has worked in New York politics for years said, “This is a warning sign. The weaponization of legal tools corrodes trust. When people see prosecutions as political scorekeeping, we all lose.”

Why the ruling matters beyond two names

At first glance, this may read as an internal partisan skirmish — a president wielding influence, a DOJ office in disarray, defendants who are household names. But the case taps into deeper, more durable questions about how democracies function: How are power and accountability distributed? How easily can norms be bent into practices? When the machinery of justice is seen to be malleable, public confidence erodes.

Consider a simple thought experiment: if legal appointments can be used as instruments for political outcomes, what does that mean for future investigations into presidents, cabinet members, or other powerful figures? The structural defense Judge Currie invoked is less glamorous than headlines and more consequential in the long run.

Looking ahead: the possible paths forward

The Justice Department may choose to refile the indictments under a different prosecutor who can clear the statutory hurdle. It may walk away. Or Congress could take the opportunity to clarify the law, tightening or loosening the appointment mechanisms depending on political will. Each path would reveal something about how the country prioritizes legal integrity over expediency.

“We’re watching how institutions respond under stress,” the constitutional scholar said. “Do they fortify themselves, or do they yield to politics? That answer will settle into precedent over years, not days.”

Questions for you, the reader

When the legal process clashes with political pressure, whom do you trust — institutions, politicians, or judges? Is the remedy to elect better leaders or to design stricter rules? And how should a democracy balance swift accountability with the slower, steadier cadence of constitutional safeguards?

In the long arc of American history, few moments are decided solely by facts. Many are decided by who holds the pen, who controls the appointments, and whether the public will demand that the rules of the game be kept fair. Today’s ruling did not answer all those questions. It only reminded us that, in a republic, how power is deployed is as important as the power itself.

Six killed in large-scale Russian strike amid U.S. peace push

hanad

November 25, 2025

Six dead in 'massive' Russian strike amid US peace push — A Russian drone explodes in the sky over Kyiv during a Russian missile and drone strike

Before dawn in Kyiv: sirens, smoke and a fragile pause

There is a particular kind of quiet that settles over a city that has learned to expect thunder. Tonight in Kyiv, it was a brittle hush punctured by the shriek of air‑raid sirens and the distant orange bloom of explosions.

Residents who had fallen into a restless sleep under the hum of generators were hurried awake. They gathered in stairwells and metro stations, hands wrapped around steaming mugs, waiting for the all‑clear. Firefighters battled flames licking at an apartment block in the Dniprovsky quarter; neighbours clambered over shattered glass to pull out charred furniture and photographs. By morning, officials counted at least six dead in the capital and several more wounded.

“You know how we grumble about the heat in summer? This is worse,” said Oksana, a schoolteacher from Svyatoshynsky district, as she clutched a blanket and a small plastic bag of belongings. “You learn to pack a bag in the dark. You learn to listen. But there’s no learning how to lose your home.”

On the edge of diplomacy: a truncated deadline and a turbulent plan

While rescuers measured loss on the ground, diplomats scrambled over a document that could reshape the map of Europe. Washington on Saturday offered Kyiv a 28‑point framework to halt the fighting — and gave Ukraine until 27 November to accept or risk the diplomatic window closing.

The proposal touched off alarm in capitals from Berlin to Brussels. Many European leaders judged the early draft too closely aligned with Moscow’s maximalist demands: territorial concessions in the east, deep cuts to Ukraine’s armed forces and a pledge to never join NATO. For nations that have watched this war from the front row, the idea of ending it on terms that look like capitulation to an invader was unpalatable.

So diplomats retreated to Geneva for emergency talks. There they rebuilt the blueprint, at least partly, with the stated aim of “upholding Ukraine’s sovereignty.” A joint US‑Ukrainian statement heading out of those rooms called the new draft an “updated and refined peace framework,” though the exact text has not been released publicly.

What changed, and what remains contentious

According to people briefed on the meetings, the revised framework softens some of the most unpalatable language from the initial proposal. Kyiv’s delegation said the updated draft “already reflects most of Ukraine’s key priorities,” while the White House hailed the talks as progress. Still, scepticism remains.

“This will be a lengthy, long‑lasting process,” German Chancellor Friedrich Merz warned, expressing doubts that any deal could be forced into being by the U.S. deadline. Across the continent, officials are asking blunt questions: Are we negotiating peace, or negotiating away the principles that have held Europe together since 1945?

On the frontlines: more than a military calculus

Diplomacy is happening alongside artillery. Moscow’s defence ministry claimed it intercepted some 249 Ukrainian drones overnight — one of the largest tallies reported — and Russian regions near the border reported strikes and civilian casualties of their own. In the Rostov region, the acting governor said at least three people were killed. In Krasnodar, the local governor called the shelling “one of the most sustained and massive attacks” from Kyiv’s side.

President Volodymyr Zelensky, sounding every bit the wartime leader he has become, warned that Ukraine was at a “critical moment.” He has framed the talks as existential: accept a deal that amounts to humiliation and territorial loss, and Kyiv risks its dignity; reject it and risk losing the patronage of powerful allies.

“We are not bargaining over the homeland like a commuter haggling for a seat,” said Dmytro, an aid worker who has spent two years ferrying supplies to frontline towns. “This is about whether our children will grow up under someone else’s flag.”

Numbers that matter (and the ones we cannot forget)

Some facts anchor the rising emotional tide. Russia currently occupies around a fifth of Ukraine — a belt of territory that has been scarred by years of fighting and displacement. Since the full‑scale invasion began in February 2022, the human toll has been staggering: tens of thousands killed, countless homes destroyed, and millions uprooted from their lives. The war remains the deadliest and largest conflict on European soil since World War II.

Beyond the battlefield, the conflict has strained global supply chains, sent energy and food markets wobbling, and intensified debates about deterrence, alliance commitments and the future of international law.

Voices from the coalition — and from kitchen tables

Washington has insisted it is trying to bring both sides to the table equally. “The idea that the United States is not engaging with both sides equally… is a complete and total fallacy,” Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt told reporters.

Yet there is an undercurrent of unease. A senior U.S. official, speaking on condition of anonymity, said the administration had pressed Ukraine hard and that Kyiv understood aid could be at risk if it rejected the deal. “We are not threatening,” the official added. “But everyone knows the stakes.”

In small shops and cafes in western Ukraine, people express a mix of fatigue and refusal. “We do not want to trade our homes for a promise,” said Ivan, a shopkeeper in Lviv. “You can offer us peace on paper, but if it comes at the cost of our land, it is not peace.”

Questions for the reader (and for the world)

What does peace look like after years of brutality? Can borders be rewritten without justice? When a powerful nation pushes a timetable, does that help create a durable settlement—or a brittle ceasefire that collapses with the first provocation?

These are not rhetorical games. They are the living logic of millions who will wake tomorrow uncertain whether the truce forged in conference rooms will keep the next missile from striking their street.

Why this moment matters beyond Ukraine

There is something deeply consequential about how this episode ends. If a settlement is reached that trims away sovereignty and rewards territorial conquest, it could alter the norms that have governed Europe since 1945. If talks fail and the fighting continues, the human cost will climb and global polarization will deepen.

Either outcome will reverberate across alliances, fuel domestic politics in capitals, and test the willingness of democracies to back principles with patience and resources. In short: the world is watching not just for Ukraine’s sake, but for what the result says about force, law and order in the 21st century.

What to watch next

The video conference of nations supporting Kyiv — the “coalition of the willing” — due to review the revised peace framework.
Any publication of the updated 28‑point text and how it addresses issues of sovereignty, territory and security guarantees.
On‑the‑ground developments: whether violence escalates or eases in the days after the talks.

As night folds into another day, Kyiv’s residents go back to the slow business of living under the shadow of war — tending wounded buildings, comforting children, bargaining with the impossible. In their eyes you can read a simple, unadorned question: is this the hour we trade freedom for an uneasy calm, or the hour we keep fighting for a future we can claim as our own?

Where do you stand when diplomacy and survival collide? The answer may shape not only Ukraine’s borders, but the architecture of security for generations to come.

Former UK prime minister David Cameron discloses past prostate cancer diagnosis

hanad

November 25, 2025

Former UK PM David Cameron reveals he had prostate cancer — David Cameron announced that he was successfully treated for prostate cancer

A private moment, a public plea: Why one man’s diagnosis is pushing Britain to rethink prostate screening

The call came on a morning like any other: coffee, a brief scroll through headlines, and a radio voice cutting through the hum of household routines. For David Cameron and his wife Samantha, it wasn’t a headline that changed everything so much as another person’s story on the airwaves — the founder of Soho House speaking about his own brush with cancer.

“Samantha turned to me and said, ‘Go on, get it checked,’” Cameron later told journalists. What followed was a cascade of tests — a PSA blood test, an MRI, a biopsy — and a diagnosis that is, for many men, whispered before it is even uttered aloud. “You always dread hearing those words,” he said, recalling the instant the doctor spoke them.

That private moment, shared now with a public, has a clarity to it that can be hard to manufacture: an ex-prime minister using the platform he still holds to encourage other men to look after themselves. “I don’t particularly like discussing my personal intimate health issues,” he admitted, “but I feel I ought to.”

From personal scare to national conversation

Prostate cancer is not an obscure ailment. In the UK, around 55,000 men receive the diagnosis each year, making it the most commonly diagnosed cancer in men. Globally, prostate cancer ranks among the top two cancers affecting men, with over a million new cases reported annually in recent years. Yet despite those numbers, there is no national, routine screening programme in the UK — and that gap is precisely what Cameron wants to prompt a rethink about.

“We’ve been too sanguine about men’s health for too long,” said Dr. Aisha Khan, a consultant urologist in London who has watched diagnostic techniques evolve during her two decades in practice. “There’s genuine progress: multiparametric MRI, better biopsy targeting, and work on biomarkers. We can be smarter than the old PSA-only approach.”

Why screening is complicated

The debate over screening is not a simple tug-of-war between good and bad. At the heart of it lie uncomfortable trade-offs. PSA tests, the main tool historically used to flag potential prostate problems, are sensitive — but not specific. They pick up many abnormalities, including harmless conditions, and can lead to unnecessary biopsies and treatments. These interventions, in turn, carry risks: incontinence, erectile dysfunction, and the psychological toll of a cancer label.

“Screening isn’t a slam dunk,” Cameron acknowledged. “You’ve always got to think how many cases we discover and how many misdiagnoses are there and how many people will be treated unnecessarily.”

That caution sits alongside new technologies and trials that could change the calculus. The Transform project, launched in partnership with the NHS and the National Institute for Health and Care Research (NIHR), has begun inviting men to participate in a large trial comparing modern screening approaches — including MRI-first strategies and refined biopsy methods — against the current NHS diagnostic pathway. NIHR has committed £16 million to the project, with additional funding from Prostate Cancer UK, signalling a major public and charity investment into resolving this question.

New tools, new hope: focal therapy and MRI-led pathways

Cameron’s own treatment offers a glimpse of what the future might look like for some men: a focal therapy that uses electrical pulses to target and destroy cancerous cells while sparing surrounding tissue. Known clinically as irreversible electroporation or similar approaches, these treatments aim to reduce the side effects associated with whole-gland therapy.

“Focal therapy can be life-changing in terms of preserving quality of life,” said Professor Martin Ellis, an oncologist involved in translational research. “If you can accurately map the tumour using MRI, then it’s possible to treat the disease without taking away function.”

It’s exactly this precision that trials like Transform are designed to test: can we find cancers that will cause harm, treat them effectively and minimally, and avoid harming men who would never have needed treatment at all?

Voices from the street

On a chilly afternoon outside a pub in a small town north of Manchester, men of different ages exchanged stories. “You don’t talk about these things in the pub, normally,” one man muttered, but then leaned in. “If someone like him can say it, maybe it’s easier for the rest of us.”

Tom Evans, 62, a retired mechanic, said, “I put things off for ages. You feel proper silly when you do. If a simple test can save me all that worry later, I’d do it.”

Campaigners are urging that the conversation be widened beyond celebrity or political influence. “This is about access and trust,” said Maya Patel, a campaigner with Prostate Cancer UK. “Targeted screening for men at higher risk — older men, those with a family history, men of African or Caribbean descent who are at greater risk — could be a way to balance benefits and harms.”

Questions for a wider world

As you read this from anywhere on the globe, ask yourself: how do we balance the promise of early detection with the real risks of over-treatment? How does culture — the British stiff upper lip, the macho invulnerability celebrated in other societies — shape who gets diagnosed and when?

Systems matter. Where national screening exists or is being piloted, it is usually accompanied by robust counselling, shared decision-making, and state-backed pathways to ensure that a positive test doesn’t automatically mean radical surgery. The UK’s National Screening Committee is currently reviewing evidence and is expected to update its guidance. The outcome could reshape NHS practice for years.

What’s at stake: each year, tens of thousands of UK men are diagnosed with prostate cancer; internationally, the burden is in the millions.
What’s new: MRI-first pathways, better biopsy techniques, and focal therapies that aim to reduce side effects.
What’s unresolved: whether a national screening programme would save lives without causing unacceptable overdiagnosis and overtreatment.

Where do we go from here?

David Cameron’s decision to speak out forces a public examination of private fears. It’s a reminder that medical advances often begin with conversations — awkward, intimate, sometimes embarrassing — that get spoken aloud. For many men, the first step is simply acknowledging vulnerability. For policymakers, the step is more technical: weighing data, funding trials, educating clinicians and the public.

“If nothing else,” Dr. Khan said, “this will reduce stigma. Men should feel they can ask questions and that their doctors will listen.”

So, will this moment prompt a shift? Will trials like Transform deliver clear answers? And will communities — across the UK and beyond — change how they talk about men’s health? The path ahead is uncertain, but the conversation has begun. Will you be part of it?

For anyone wondering where to start: speak to your GP, learn your family history, and check the guidance from your local health service or organisations like Prostate Cancer UK. Small steps can open the door to better outcomes — and, sometimes, to another quiet morning at home over coffee, with more life still to live.

Russian drones launched against Kyiv in ongoing assault on the capital

hanad

November 25, 2025

Russian drone attack under way in Ukrainian capital Kyiv — Ukrainian air defence firing at Russian drones and missiles above Kyiv

Before dawn in Kyiv: sirens, smoke and the hum of a city that will not sleep

When the first air-raid sirens cut through the thick pre-dawn air, Kyiv woke with the same jolt it has learned to expect since the full-scale war began: hurried footsteps, whispered prayers, a thousand small routines practiced until they feel like muscle memory. This morning those routines were put to the test again, as Russian drones struck the Ukrainian capital, igniting fires in at least two high-rise residential buildings and knocking out parts of the city’s power and water networks, officials said.

“You never truly get used to the sound,” said Olena, a 34-year-old nurse who lives in Pechersk and who evacuated her apartment with one bag and her cat. “But somehow you do learn how to move. We grabbed our documents, the kettle, and our little one. The neighbors were calling to each other down the stairwell. People helped each other. That’s what keeps you human.”

The hard facts — what we know right now

City officials reported that early-morning drone strikes hit two residential high-rises: one in Pechersk, a central district known for its broad avenues and government buildings, and another on the opposite bank of the Dnipro River. Pictures circulated on social media and informal channels showed smoke and flames licking upper-floor windows, while Kyiv’s air-defence units engaged targets overhead.

Mayor Vitali Klitschko, posting on Telegram, said a high-rise in Pechersk was being evacuated after the impact. Tymur Tkachenko, head of Kyiv’s military administration, confirmed a separate strike on the other side of the river and showed photographs of apartments ablaze on the upper stories. Ukraine’s energy ministry described the bombardment as a “massive combined” attack aimed at energy infrastructure, and said crews would assess and begin repairs when it was safe to do so.

Importantly, authorities said there were no casualties reported so far. But the physical and psychological toll of such strikes—especially on apartment towers where entire families live stacked one above another—cannot be measured only in numbers.

A city of refuges: metro stations and midnight corridors

As has become common in recent waves of strikes, Kyiv’s metro stations filled with people seeking refuge. The cavernous platforms, tiled halls, and echoing tunnels turned into temporary living rooms, with people huddled on benches and blankets spread across the concrete. Coffee was brewed over small camping stoves. A grandmother crocheted as if she could stitch the world together with yarn.

“It’s strange how normal life finds its way into these concrete caves,” said Mykola, a university student who has been sleeping in a metro station by day and studying by phone by night. “You see parents reading to children, couples making plans. You see resilience. And you also see fear. The two sit side by side.”

The architecture of vulnerability

High-rise residential buildings concentrate lives, and in modern war they concentrate risk. When a missile or drone hits an upper floor, it imperils not just that flat but dozens of connected lives below. Windows shatter, lifts stop, stairwells become smoky and treacherous. In Kyiv—home to roughly 2.8–3 million people in the city proper—there are countless buildings like these, part of the city’s skyline, part of everyday domestic life.

In summer, chestnut trees line Khreshchatyk and children play near fountains; in winter, families toast on tiny balconies. Those small, human scenes are the ones most at risk when infrastructure is targeted. “When energy systems go down, everything is magnified,” said Dr. Hanna Petrenko, an energy-security analyst at a Kyiv think tank. “Hospitals rely on power, water treatment plants need electricity, heating systems require pumps. The ripple effects are massive.”

Energy as a weapon

The energy ministry’s stark description of a “massive” attack on power infrastructure is not mere rhetoric. Since the escalation of conflict, attacks on energy networks have been a recurrent tactic—designed to strip warmth and light, diminish civilian morale, and complicate the logistics of a city under siege. In the cold months, these strikes can tip the balance between comfort and crisis, between making do and humanitarian emergency.

“We’re not just defending buildings,” said a senior repair worker, who asked not to be named for security reasons. “We’re defending the ability for people to live normally—ifyou can call anything normal these days. Restoring a transformer can mean a hospital stays open, a child can get their medicine refrigerated, an elderly person can heat their home.”

Human stories, human costs

The images that travel fastest—photos of flames against a twilight sky, the face of a child clutched by a parent on a metro bench—are only part of the story. There are quieter losses: a family’s passport burned, a violin smashed by flying glass, the plate of varenyky cooling on a windowsill. These are intimate, domestic tragedies that feed into the larger narrative of displacement and endurance.

“We moved three times last year,” said Kateryna, who runs a small bakery near the Dnipro. “Every time it’s the same thing: pack a little, leave a lot behind. But then the bakery customers come in, they laugh, they order bread, and for a moment it feels like before. That is why we keep going.”

What this means for the world beyond Kyiv

When a capital is repeatedly hit—its lights fading in and out, its people sleeping in tunnels—the reverberations are global. Energy security is now a geopolitical issue for democracies worldwide, not only a local technical problem. Supply chains, humanitarian corridors, and international aid logistics all become more complicated. And the moral calculus of targeting energy infrastructure—civilian vs. military necessity—grows more fraught.

How should democracies balance support for a besieged city with the realities of a modern battlefield? What does it mean for global norms when civilian infrastructure is deliberately targeted? These are not hypothetical questions: they are ethical and strategic challenges that diplomats, defense planners, and aid agencies must weigh.

Practical resilience—small measures, big impact

In the short term, communities stitch together resilience with practical tactics: neighborhood generators, battery banks for phones, solar panels on rooftops where possible, water bottles stacked in stairwells. NGOs and municipal services coordinate to redistribute heat sources, charge devices, and care for vulnerable residents.

Local civil-defense teams, often volunteers, help evacuate and triage.
Energy crews perform high-risk repairs to get hospitals and water treatment back online.
Community kitchens and volunteer groups provide warm meals and blankets.

What to watch next

Officials in Kyiv will continue to assess damage and restore services “as soon as the security situation allows,” the energy ministry said. For residents, the immediate horizon is practical and painfully narrow—restore heat, patch windows, comfort neighbors. For the rest of the world, the horizon is longer, asking whether the rules that once governed conflict will hold, and how societies can protect civilians when vital infrastructure becomes a battlefield.

Will this pattern of strikes harden international resolve, or will it normalize a new kind of warfare where winters in cities become a bargaining chip? The answer will shape policy, aid, and how we prepare urban centers for crises to come.

For now, Kyiv breathes through the smoke and the sirens, through the quiet heroism of energy workers and the warm hands of neighbors sharing tea on a metro bench. “We’ll fix what we can,” said Olena as she returned to check on her apartment’s hallway. “We’ll keep living, because that’s what resists fear.”

What would you do if night turned sudden and loud? How do societies keep ordinary life going when the lights go out? Kyiv’s small acts of survival are a blunt reminder that resilience is not a national abstraction—it is a daily, human practice.

Scientists amazed as wolf exploits crab traps to scavenge meals

hanad

November 24, 2025

Researchers stunned by wolf's use of crab traps to feed

A Wolf, a Crab Trap, and a Lesson in Wild Intelligence

On a gray morning along British Columbia’s ragged central coast, a motion-triggered camera blinked awake and recorded something that made scientists rub their eyes—and then watch the footage again, slowly, as if savoring a secret told twice.

It wasn’t the usual drama of wolf-on-beach: snarling, sprinting, the raw, staccato business of predation. This was a sequence of patient, precise acts—like watching a locksmith at work. A lone female wolf swam out into the cold surf, seized a wavering float, towed it to shore, tightened a line, hauled a submerged crab trap up from the depths, then chewed through its netting to reach the bait inside.

For the researchers who set those cameras in May 2024 as part of an eradication program against invasive European green crabs, the footage read like an unexpected page in a nature documentary. “I couldn’t believe my eyes the first time we saw it,” said an environmental biologist involved in the study. “It was deliberate. It wasn’t brute force—it was problem-solving.”

The Scene: Salt, Stones and Science

The cameras were not there to study wolves. They were there because crab traps baited and sunk in deep water had been turning up empty onshore. The traps were part of a coordinated effort with Heiltsuk Nation partners to remove Carcinus maenas—the European green crab—a tiny invader that punches above its weight, gnawing at eelgrass, outcompeting native shellfish and unsettling coastal food webs.

Green crabs are on the IUCN’s list of the world’s 100 worst invasive species for a reason: across the globe they’ve altered estuaries and coastlines, damaged livelihoods that depend on clams and oysters, and strained conservation efforts. In British Columbia, communities and scientists have been mobilizing to keep these crabs from taking hold.

So when bait disappeared from traps sunk well offshore—places never exposed at low tide—researchers assumed a marine predator was to blame. The remote cameras offered an answer they hadn’t expected: a terrestrial carnivore making marine-minded moves.

The Act: A Different Kind of Foraging

Watch the clip and you see rhythm and economy. The wolf does not thrash. She swims with the efficient body roll of a predator accustomed to water. She bites the buoy, not the trap itself, and with measured tugs swims the apparatus toward the strandline.

On the sand she alternates between pulling and pacing, testing tension in the line as if gauging how much strength the contraption demands. When the trap clatters onto the beach, she clamps her jaws around the webbing and works, patiently chewing a hole large enough to extract the bait.

“It was a carefully choreographed sequence,” one co-author of the paper told me. “You watch and realize this isn’t random. This is learned technique.”

Why this matters

Tool use has long been a marker scientists point to when discussing cognition in animals. We expect it from primates, certain birds, and marine mammals: chimpanzees fashion sticks to fish for termites; New Caledonian crows bend hooks; sea otters use stones to crack open shellfish. But canids—wolves, foxes, dogs—have rarely been observed applying objects to purpose in the wild.

This footage, published in the peer-reviewed journal Ecology and Evolution, is being called “the first known potential tool use in wild wolves.” If this interpretation holds, it nudges open a window on canid problem-solving that many of us didn’t know existed.

Voices from the Coast

In the small community of Bella Bella, home to the Heiltsuk Nation, elders and fishers have always watched the shoreline closely—both for weather and for stories. “Our people have known the land and the sea are connected,” said a Heiltsuk community member involved in the project. “When animals teach us something new, it’s another reminder that we share these places in ways we’re still learning to read.”

Local fishers, who’ve hauled crabs and set traps for decades, offered a rueful chuckle. “We thought seals were the usual scavengers,” said a long-time commercial harvester. “But the wolf—pulling a trap? That’s a trick I didn’t expect from a dog.”

Learning, Culture, and Coastal Life

One of the striking possibilities the scientists raise is that this wolf’s behavior may have developed through trial-and-error in a landscape where human danger is low and marine resources are abundant. Coastal wolves—often called island or coastal wolves—are known to incorporate fish, shellfish, and even intertidal invertebrates into their diets in ways their inland cousins do not.

That means opportunities to experiment. A pup observing an older wolf tugging at a float might learn a useful trick. A trick over years can calcify into culture—socially transmitted behavior that travels through the pack like folklore.

“How do we define innovation in wildlife?” asked a behavioral ecologist who reviewed the footage. “If one wolf figures out a method and others copy it, that’s culture. It changes how a population interacts with its environment.”

Other animals that use tools

Chimpanzees: sticks to fish for termites and rocks to crack nuts.
Crows and ravens: hooks fashioned from twigs and wire to extract grubs.
Sea otters: rocks used as anvils to open shellfish.
Dolphins: marine sponges as protective tools when foraging on the seafloor.

The Broader Picture: Invasion, Stewardship, and Respect

This story sits at the intersection of several global threads. There’s the ongoing battle against invasive species—how do you protect fragile coastal ecosystems from a small crustacean that can reshape a shoreline? There’s the conversation about animal cognition and what it reveals about non-human minds. And there’s Indigenous stewardship, the collaborative science practiced with the Heiltsuk Nation, which blends traditional knowledge with modern monitoring techniques.

It also prompts a question that stretches beyond a single clip: what else are animals figuring out as human footprints recede from some wild places and intensify elsewhere? The coastal wolf’s ingenuity is a reminder that intelligence in nature is not confined to faces that look back at us; it’s woven into movement, experimentation, and adaptation.

Final Thoughts

Next time you walk a shoreline and watch a buoy bob, consider the possibility you’re not the only one who sees its promise. This wolf’s work—swimming, hauling, chewing—reads like a line in a long conversation between sea and land, between species and place. It asks us to listen a little harder.

And it asks something of you, the reader: when you look at animals in the wild, do you look for the familiar story of hunting and fleeing, or are you ready to be surprised by a different narrative—one of problem-solving, culture, and shared lives on the edge of sea and shore?

Gaza Humanitarian Foundation Announces Completion of Relief Mission

hanad

November 24, 2025

Gaza Humanitarian Foundation announces end of its mission — A young person carries an empty box of relief supplies from the Gaza Humanitarian Foundation earlier in the year

A Quiet End to a Loud Experiment: The Gaza Humanitarian Foundation Steps Away

At dawn in a neighborhood that has become a mosaic of rubble and resilience, a queue once stretched like a braided rope of need through a dust-choked alley. Men carried infants on their shoulders; women clutched shopping bags that had become lifelines; elders sat on overturned crates and counted the hours. For months, these lines led to one of four distribution centres run by the Gaza Humanitarian Foundation (GHF)—a US- and Israeli-backed private relief operation that announced this week it has finished its mission and will withdraw from Gaza.

The foundation’s parting statement leaned on numbers: more than 187 million free meals delivered directly to civilians. The gesture will register as a lifeline to many. But numbers rarely tell the whole story. How aid is delivered—by whom, under what rules, and at what cost to civilian trust—has become a battleground in its own right.

What Happened

In May, as international access to Gaza tightened under Israeli restrictions, GHF moved into a role traditionally occupied by the United Nations. Where the UN-run system once sustained approximately 400 distribution points across the territory, GHF’s operation compressed food distribution into four centres. That centralization, its backers argued, reduced theft and redirected aid where it was most needed. Its critics—UN agencies, rights groups, and local residents—said it concentrated risk and eroded impartial humanitarian norms.

The controversy escalated through the summer. A UN-mandated expert panel alleged the GHF model had been “exploited for covert military and geopolitical agendas,” and UN special rapporteurs called for the mission to be shut down. The UN human rights office reported that hundreds of Palestinians had been killed by Israeli fire while seeking aid at distribution sites managed by the foundation. Hamas and other Palestinian leaders accused the foundation of complicity in a broader “starvation policy”—charges the foundation and its Western supporters have strongly denied.

Voices on the ground

“When you stand in that line, you are not just asking for bread,” said Aisha, a mother of three from Gaza City whose name has been changed for safety. “You are asking the world to remember you exist. Sometimes the trucks come, sometimes they do not—the moment you are closest to help is when you are most exposed.”

“We had to be pragmatic,” said an aid worker who helped run one distribution site and asked not to be named. “With so many UN logos gone and pipelines blocked, people were starving. We made choices that meant fewer points but more controlled delivery. It saved some lives—but it made others feel like targets.”

What GHF Said

In its announcement, GHF framed the mission as complete and successful. “After delivering more than 187 million free meals directly to civilians living in Gaza, GHF today announced the successful completion of its emergency mission,” the foundation wrote, noting ongoing talks with other international organizations and with the Civil-Military Coordination Centre, a US-led task force monitoring the truce in southern Israel.

“It’s clear they will be adopting and expanding the model GHF piloted,” John Acree, GHF’s executive director, said in the release. The implication: private, tightly monitored aid operations may become a more common blueprint when states restrict traditional humanitarian access.

A divided chorus of responses

The US State Department publicly thanked GHF and suggested its oversight helped bring Hamas to the negotiating table, giving credit to the model for supporting the ceasefire reached on 10 October and the associated hostage-prisoner exchange. Tommy Pigott, a State Department spokesperson, wrote on social media that the foundation’s measures to prevent looting and diversion had been instrumental in achieving the pause in hostilities.

Not everyone shared that appraisal. Hazem Qassem, a spokesman for Hamas, demanded accountability. “We call upon all international human rights organisations to ensure that it does not escape accountability after causing the death and injury of thousands of Gazans,” he wrote on his Telegram channel, accusing the organisation of covering up a policy that amounted to collective punishment. Whether the grounds for legal or moral reckoning will translate into action remains unclear.

Between Aid and Geopolitics

This is not simply a story of logistics. It is a microcosm of how humanitarian action has shifted in an era of intense politicization and shrinking trust. When aid delivery becomes entwined with military and diplomatic objectives, its neutral character is often the first casualty.

Consider the practical trade-offs. Concentration of aid at fewer sites can streamline security and reduce theft; it can also create chokepoints where civilians are exposed and compressed. Independent monitoring—an essential pillar of humanitarian ethics—becomes harder when the entities running the aid are perceived as politically partial. International humanitarian law and long-standing relief principles emphasize neutrality, impartiality, and independence. When these are perceived to be in doubt, the very act of giving aid can become a flashpoint.

Dr. Leila Mansour, a humanitarian policy analyst who has worked in multiple conflict zones, put it frankly: “There is no neutral ground left in some theatres of conflict. Donors seek results; governments seek control; humanitarian organisations seek access. When a private foundation backed by states deploys in place of the UN, it raises legitimate questions about who is accountable to whom.”

Quick Facts

Meals delivered by GHF: more than 187 million (as claimed in the group’s statement).
Distribution centres run by GHF: 4, compared with approximately 400 former UN-run points.
Ceasefire in Gaza: A US-brokered pause and hostage-prisoner exchange took effect on 10 October (first phase of a wider process).
Population impacted: Gaza is home to roughly 2.3 million people, many of whom were displaced or dependent on external food assistance during the conflict.

What Comes Next?

GHF says other international organisations and the Civil-Military Coordination Centre will take up and expand its model. That could mean more centralized, militarily monitored aid systems—less vulnerable to theft, perhaps, but also more tightly tied to political objectives. For civilians in Gaza, the urgent question is whether the flow of food, medicine, and reconstruction funds will be steady, impartial, and safe.

“We need predictable deliveries, yes,” said Khaled, a small-business owner near Khan Younis. “But we also need dignity. Handing out food under cameras and cages feels like charity dressed as control.”

Accountability will be another test. International actors will be watching whether independent investigations into the deaths at distribution sites advance, whether families receive answers, and whether lessons from this fraught episode translate into policy change.

Broader Questions for the Reader

What happens when the mechanics of relief are repurposed as tools of statecraft? When is the price of safe, efficient delivery too high because it compromises principles that protect civilians? And who speaks for communities on the receiving end of aid?

If nothing else, the GHF episode serves as a stark reminder that humanitarian aid is never purely technical. It is threaded through with politics, ethics, power—and human faces waiting in the dust for a meal that might mean the difference between life and death.

As Gaza begins to imagine reconstruction and as the international community debates new models of aid, the quiet emptying of those four warehouses marks not only an end but an invitation—to rebuild systems that truly serve people first.

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