True, the U.S. seeks Venezuela’s oil — but motives run deeper

January 5, 2026

Yes, the US wants Venezuela's oil but that's not all — The attack on Venezuela is part of the new US National Security Strategy

When Morning Broke Over Caracas: The Day a Strongman Became a Detainee

The airport lights were still low, the air thick with the diesel and dust that hangs over Caracas in the dry season, when the news began to spread like oil on water: the man who had ruled Venezuela for years, a figure of fear and devotion in equal measure, had been taken into custody and flown into American custody.

There is a particular hush when something seismic happens in a city that has become used to seismic shifts. Street vendors paused with arepas half-formed, church bells and radio DJs faltered mid-sentence, and a bus driver on Avenida Urdaneta stared at his phone until the screen grew bright enough to betray the worry on his face.

“I remembered my mother saying, ‘No one rules forever,’ ” said Mariela Rojas, who runs a tiny bakery in Catia, wiping flour from her hands. “But never did I think it would be like this — nighttime helicopters, whispered rumors, then the airport news. We live with fear like weather. Now the weather might change.”

Not Just One Man: A Landscape of Autocrats and Interests

This is not, on its face, a story simply about one man’s fall from prominence. It is a story about systems, about resources, about history that refuses to let its old frames go quietly into the archive. It is about a hemisphere where the ghosts of 19th-century doctrines still orbit today’s policy debates, but now with new actors and new tools.

Venezuela sits on one of the largest oil endowments on the planet — estimates commonly put its proven reserves near the 300-billion-barrel mark, a staggering figure that has driven both its fortune and its misfortune. Oil shaped its politics long before the current drama: patronage networks built on petro-rents, security forces supplied with foreign weapons, and economies of dependency that few administrations have managed to disentangle.

“Energy is a lever,” said Dr. Alejandro Cortés, a Latin American geopolitics scholar in Bogotá. “Whoever can command supply chains, refineries, shipping routes, gains not only revenue but strategic advantage. The United States, China, Russia — they all see Venezuela through that lens.”

Why This Moment Reels Beyond Borders

If the capture is indeed true — and the details remain contested and unfolding — it is the kind of moment that forces questions about precedence and principle. When a global superpower moves in against a sitting leader in another sovereign nation, the ripple effects are immediate and global.

Washington’s stated rationale, according to briefings and press remarks, ranged from criminal accountability to securing critical assets. “We’re going to have our very large US oil companies… go in, spend billions of dollars, fix the badly broken infrastructure,” a senior official told reporters, adding bluntly that American dominance in the hemisphere “will never be questioned again.”

That rhetoric pulled the 19th-century Monroe Doctrine into the present with a new nickname: the “Donroe Doctrine,” as it has been called in newsrooms and on social feeds — a refashioning that mixes old hubris with modern, transactional geopolitics.

Reactions: Fear, Defiance, and Geopolitical Alarm

Across Latin America’s capitals, reactions ranged from sober caution to blistering condemnation. Beijing called the operation “deeply shocking,” denouncing acts it described as violations of international law. Moscow warned that unilateral actions in the hemisphere would heighten tensions. Havana — where Cuban flags flutter beside Venezuelan ones in solidarity rallies — framed the event as an assault on sovereignty.

“These are not just words,” said Rosa Miguel, a Cuban-Venezuelan nurse in Havana, smoothing the edges of a small Venezuelan flag at a public gathering. “When they take a leader in the night, they take a whole people’s story. We felt it like a slap.”

Back in Washington, voices in the administration framed the action as a defense of hemispheric security and supply chain integrity. Earlier policy documents had emphasized the need to block “hostile foreign incursion” and to protect access to strategic resources — language that, critics say, echoes a long tradition of privileging power over principle.

Why Russia and China Mattered

Both Moscow and Beijing have been lifelines of a sort for Caracas in recent years: oil purchases, political support at the United Nations, military ties. In the weeks before the operation, diplomatic choreography included visits by high-level envoys and confirmations of strategic relationships described, by one Venezuelan official, as “multipolar cooperation for peace and development.”

“You have to understand the layered stakes here,” explained Dr. Cortés. “It’s not just a bilateral quarrel. It’s contestation over influence — who secures supply chains, who wields soft power, who gets ports and pipelines.”

On the Ground: Stories of Loss, Resilience, and Uncertainty

Walk the neighborhoods of Caracas and you will see a collage of resilience: murals of disappeared relatives, hand-painted signs for community clinics, kids in soccer cleats chasing a ragged ball past shuttered buildings. For many people, politics is measured in immediate terms: will there be light this month, will the clinic have medicine, will my child eat?

“We are tired,” said Carlos Medina, a mechanic who used to fix buses for a state-run transport cooperative. “Tired of being told there’s a solution just around the corner. If the big players are fighting over oil and influence, what do we get? More fines, more checkpoints, more long lines.”

Yet not everyone welcomed the supposed capture. Demonstrations sprang up in neighborhoods where support for the former leader remains strong. Placards read “Sovereignty, not Intervention,” and old songs — corridos and boleros — mixed with the chants, reminding everyone that identity and memory do not dissolve with headlines.

What This Means for the Hemisphere — and for You

Think of this not just as a Venezuelan drama but as a mirror. Around the world, democratic backsliding, illicit networks, and resurgent great-power competition are reweaving the map of influence. According to multiple democracy indices, the last decade has seen a slump in democratic norms and a rise in personalized power. Whether the remedy is international prosecution or regional dialogue matters less than the question of legitimacy: who decides, and by what rules?

Ask yourself: when great powers move in the name of security or resources, whose law governs the action? And when local people bear the direct cost — shortages, displacement, a spike in militarization — where is justice? These are not abstract queries; they are the kinds of moral arithmetic that determine whether a city gets electricity or a child gets to go to school.

Possible Consequences

Short-term instability in Venezuela, including disruptions to oil production and trade.
Heightened tensions between the U.S., China, and Russia, with potential diplomatic fallout in the UN and regional bodies.
Ripple effects across Latin America, where governments will reassess alliances and domestic security strategies.
A renewed debate about sovereignty, intervention, and the ethics of resource-driven foreign policy.

Closing: A Hemisphere at a Crossroads

Outside, the city hums on. Someone bangs a pot in protest; someone else lights a candle for the missing. A taxi driver turns off the radio and says, simply, “We will talk about this for years.” He is right. This episode — whether a decisive correction or a dangerous precedent — will be picked apart in living rooms, on parliaments’ floors, and in courtrooms.

Moments like this compel us to look beyond the personalities into the systems that make such dramas possible. Power does not evaporate when a leader falls; it reallocates. The question for citizens across the hemisphere — and for observers around the world — is whether that reallocation will yield more freedom, more accountability, and more dignity for ordinary people, or whether it will simply swap one set of hands for another.

So I ask you: if geopolitics is a game of chess, what happens to the pawns? And are we ready, as a global community, to defend the small things that make life worth living — clinics that stay open, ballots that count, and the quiet, stubborn rituals of daily life that endure even in times of upheaval?

Denmark’s prime minister urges United States to cease threats against Greenland

hanad

January 5, 2026

'We have to have it' - Trump says US needs Greenland — US President Donald Trump has advocated for Greenland to become part of the United States

Greenland on the Line: Between Ice, Independence and Global Geopolitics

On a bright, cold morning in Nuuk, the capital’s painted houses look like jewels scattered against a vast white palette. Steam rises from a fishing trawler tied to the quay. Children weave between parked cars, their laughter drifting over the fjord. For the 56,000 or so people who call this place home, Greenland is not a chess piece to be traded between distant capitals — it is a homeland, a place of memory and weather and stubborn pride.

And yet, in recent weeks, headlines have placed Greenland at the centre of a geopolitical tug-of-war, reviving old questions about sovereignty, security and the value of the Arctic in a warming world. In Copenhagen, Prime Minister Mette Frederiksen responded sharply to suggestions from Washington that the United States might “need” Greenland for defence reasons — calling the idea absurd and insisting that the territory and its people are not for sale.

Why Greenland matters

To understand why a far-flung island of fjords and ice sheets suddenly commands global attention, you have to look past the clichés about polar bears and endless ice.

Size and location: Greenland is the world’s largest island, more than 2.1 million square kilometres, located squarely between Europe and North America.
Population: Roughly 56,000 residents, concentrated largely along the west coast.
Ice and climate: About 80% of the land is covered by the ice sheet, whose future is central to global sea-level projections.
Strategic footprint: The island hosts Greenlandic settlements, Danish administration and long-standing US military facilities such as Thule Air Base, established during the Cold War.

“Think of Greenland as a gateway,” said an Arctic security analyst I spoke to, tracing a finger over a map. “Control of Greenland touches transatlantic lines of communication, early-warning systems and the routes a new era of Arctic shipping might create. That is why big powers watch it.”

Voices from the fjords

Back in Nuuk, opinions are nuanced. “We grew up here,” said Anja, a 28-year-old nurse, as she sipped strong coffee outside a clinic. “This is not a commodity. People speak about mineral wealth and strategic value, but they don’t talk about our language, our music, our food. You can’t put a price on that.”

On the docks, Nuka — a captain who has spent his life hauling halibut and shrimp through the winter months — was more blunt. “We’ve been told what’s best for us before,” he said, eyes narrowed against the wind. “Independence is a hope for many, but money is real. The subsidy from Denmark keeps hospitals open, kids in school. We have to balance pride with survival.”

That Danish subsidy — a regular transfer that helps sustain Greenland’s public services — is often cited as a key factor in the island’s gradual, cautious path toward greater autonomy. The Self-Government Act of 2009 confirmed the right of Greenlanders to declare independence in the future, but also left a practical dependency: tens of thousands of jobs, essential public services and an economy still tethered to fishing and state funds.

Minerals, melting ice and the economics of influence

The Arctic’s mineral bounty — rare earth elements, potential oil and gas, and other strategic resources — has spurred outside interest. Global demand for rare earths, for example, drives a scramble by nations to diversify supply chains away from single-source dependencies. For Greenland’s small towns, mining projects promise jobs and infrastructure. But the memory of previous resource booms, and the environmental fragility of the Arctic, make the debate deeply contested.

“We must ask ourselves what kind of development we want,” said a Greenlandic community leader I met in a town hall meeting. “Will mining build schools and clinics or foreign megaprojects and empty promises? Will it poison water and change our way of life?”

Diplomacy, dignity and the dangers of language

When foreign officials publicly debate whether a territory should belong to another state, it is not merely diplomatic posturing. It touches the dignity of the people who live there. Prime Minister Frederiksen’s statement — that it would be “absurd” for another country to seek to take control of Greenland — was as much an appeal to principle as it was to geopolitics.

“Warm words are not enough,” said the Danish prime minister in a formal statement. “We must respect our allies and recognise the rights of the people who live on the island.”

That plea resonated in Nuuk’s cafes and municipal chambers. “We are not for sale,” repeated a community activist, who asked to remain anonymous because she feared reprisals from more powerful actors. “It’s painful to hear countries talk as if places like ours are empty containers to be filled with bases and mines.”

What comes next — and what it means globally

There are no simple answers. Greenland’s future will be shaped by internal debates about independence, external pressures from great powers seeking strategic advantage, and the relentless realities of climate change.

Here are some of the questions that matter globally, not just locally:

Who decides what constitutes legitimate security interest versus coercive influence?
How can resource development be done in ways that respect local rights and protect fragile ecosystems?
What obligations do historical powers have toward dependent territories seeking self-determination?

“Greenland is a mirror,” suggested an international law scholar. “How the world responds to the island’s choices will say a lot about our commitment to sovereignty, indigenous rights and cooperative security in the 21st century.”

Closing thoughts

Walking away from the harbour that afternoon, the fjord spread out like an old map — white, blue, a smear of dark water where the current ran fast. Greenland will not be decided by a single speech or headline. Its people will move forward, sometimes slowly, sometimes with urgency, balancing the practicalities of life with the deep, human desire to determine their own fate.

So what do you think, reader? When a small community sits at the intersection of global strategy and indigenous identity, whose voice should carry the most weight, and how should the international community respond? The answer will shape not only Greenland’s future, but the contours of global diplomacy in a warming world.

Switzerland Identifies All Victims of New Year’s Ski Resort Blaze

hanad

January 5, 2026

Swiss identify all victims of New Year fire at ski resort — A makeshift memorial near the Constellation bar, on January 4, 2026, in Crans-Montana

When Celebration Turned to Mourning: The Night the Alps Stood Still

There are certain images that steal your breath: the sharp line of the Alps under a winter moon, the glow of a resort alive with New Year’s cheer, and then a sudden, bewildering darkness where laughter used to be. That is the image the small Swiss resort of Crans-Montana will not easily forget after the fire that swept through a packed bar in the early hours of New Year’s Day, leaving 40 people dead and a community searching for answers.

The numbers are stark and relentless: 40 people killed, including 20 minors. One hundred and nineteen injured, many with severe burns. Victims ranged in age from 14 to 39 and included citizens from at least a dozen countries — roughly 21 Swiss, nine French, six Italians, and others from Belgium, Portugal, Romania, Turkey and beyond — the variety of passports reflecting the resort’s international pull.

The scene

It was 1:30am when revellers in Le Constellation, a basement bar owned by a French couple, suddenly found a celebration turned to catastrophe. Videos posted on social media show a low wooden ceiling, laced with soundproofing foam, catching light. What began as sparks — reportedly from celebratory sparklers affixed to champagne bottles — became a wall of flame that spread with terrifying speed.

“People were shouting, throwing chairs, smashing windows. We thought it was a prank at first,” said Marcella, a local waitress who rushed to help after fleeing the bar. “Then the smoke hit. It was like being in an oven.”

Fire and rescue teams arrived within minutes, but not quickly enough to stop a flashover — a near-instantaneous ignition of everything in an enclosed space — that experts say is consistent with the way the flames behaved. The foam covering the ceiling, designed to deaden sound, is under scrutiny for being highly flammable.

Grief in the streets

Within days, the town’s rhythm changed. At a packed memorial service held in a chapel just 300 meters from the bar, people stood in the cold — temperatures around -9°C — clinging to bouquets or a single red rose. A giant screen outside relayed the service for those who could not fit inside. Hundreds walked in silent procession to a nearby chapel of rest. Switzerland has declared a national day of mourning on January 9, with church bells nationwide set to toll at 14:00.

“We are here to say that in the face of the unspeakable, we refuse to look away,” Pastor Gilles Cavin told the assembled crowd. “We are here for the apprentices, the high-school students, the young people who came from many places to celebrate life and were met with death.”

Bishop Jean-Marie Lovey, speaking after the service, appealed for privacy and compassion. “The world’s media have descended upon our valley,” he said. “Please seek the grieving with mercy, not spectacle.”

Names, nationalities, and the human tally

Police in Valais canton have worked to identify the victims, a painstaking and heartbreaking process. Among those named: young apprentices, university students, and school pupils. Authorities released a list of nationalities to help families connect — a chilling reminder of the resort’s international character and of how quickly tragedy can cross borders.

40 killed, including 20 under 18
119 injured, many with severe burns
Victims aged between 14 and 39
Nationalities represented include Swiss (21 among the deceased), French (9), Italian (6), plus citizens of Belgium, Portugal, Romania, Turkey and others

“My son was only nineteen,” said Anna, a parent of a victim who asked that her surname not be used. “He loved the mountains. He loved life. There are no words.”

Accountability and the court of law

The bar’s owners, Jacques and Jessica Moretti, have been placed under criminal investigation and are charged with negligent manslaughter, negligent bodily harm and negligent arson. Jacques Moretti has maintained to local press that safety norms were followed and that the venue’s official capacity — listed online as 300 inside plus 40 on the terrace — was not exceeded.

Mayor Nicolas Feraud told Swiss broadcaster RTS that the municipality was cooperating with investigators and that the town had not been negligent. “Our priority is finding the truth,” he said. “We will ask all the hard questions about oversight and compliance.”

Experts weigh in

Fire safety specialists point to patterns that have already become painfully familiar. “Enclosed spaces with combustible acoustic foam and an ignition source like pyrotechnics are a recipe for a flashover,” said Dr. Elise Morel, a fire dynamics specialist at the Federal Institute for Fire Prevention. “The Station nightclub fire in Rhode Island in 2003 taught us that lesson the hard way — pyrotechnics and foam do not mix.”

Global statistics underline the risk: in night-time entertainment venues around the world, fires caused by pyrotechnics and overloaded exits have repeatedly led to mass casualties. Codes exist to prevent these scenarios, but enforcement varies. Where oversight lapses, the consequences can be catastrophic.

Culture, tourism and the cost of a night out

Crans-Montana is a ski resort known for its lively après-ski and international clientele. This tragedy raises difficult questions about the cost of fun, the culture of late-night partying, and the responsibility shared by venue owners, local authorities, tour operators and revelers themselves.

Who shoulders the blame when joy becomes danger? Is it the owners who lit sparklers? The suppliers who sold combustible foam? The regulators who enforce capacity and fire-code compliance? Or the broader social appetite for ever-more sensational nightlife experiences?

“We must mourn, of course,” said Dr. Morel. “But we must also learn and implement. Regulations are only as good as the willingness to enforce them and the cultural determination to value safety over spectacle.”

How a town moves forward

For now, Crans-Montana is holding tight to rituals of remembrance. Bells will toll. Names will be read. Families, many from other countries, will grappling with loss far from home, relying on consular services and the generosity of local volunteers. Hospitals in the region are caring for the wounded, and burn units elsewhere in Switzerland have taken patients as needed.

A crisis helpline has been set up; crisis counselors are on site. Volunteers bring food and blankets. Younger people hang candles and notes on fences. The scene is at once intimate and global: a fjord-side slogan in Norwegian could be replaced by a French postcard, a Swiss flag next to an Italian one, as strangers become the bedrock for families in shock.

As you read this, perhaps you’re thinking of a night out — a memory, a friend, a child. How do we celebrate without courting danger? How do communities keep their doors open and their people safe? These are painful, necessary conversations.

There will be investigations. There will be trials. And there will be funerals. But beyond legal outcomes, the lasting test will be whether this valley — and the wider world of nightlife and leisure — chooses to carry forward lessons so these names do not become another footnote in a long catalogue of preventable tragedies.

For the families, the question is simpler and unbearably immediate: how do you continue after losing a child, a sibling, a friend? For the rest of us, the question is this: what will we change?

Health charity urges government to match UK’s junk-food ad ban

hanad

January 5, 2026

Charity calls on Govt to match UK ban on junk food ads — It will impact ads airing before the 9pm watershed and anytime online

When the Screen Becomes the Snack Counter: A New Chapter in the Fight Against Childhood Obesity

On a rainy Wednesday afternoon in Cork, a six-year-old presses his nose to the television while his mother prepares dinner in the kitchen. Between the cartoon and the weather forecast, a stream of bright, jingly adverts floods the screen—milkshakes with cartoon mascots, crisps that promise “fun,” and fizzy drinks with colours more vivid than the childhoods they aim to colour. The boy points. “Can I have that?” he asks.

This tiny exchange is part of the scene that drove the UK government to roll out a sweeping ban on daytime television and paid online advertising for foods high in fat, salt or sugar. Officials hailed the move as “world-leading” and say it could remove up to 7.2 billion calories from children’s diets each year, reduce the number of children living with obesity by about 20,000, and deliver roughly £2 billion (€2.2bn) in health benefits. For public health advocates, it’s a gesture toward a future where childhood cravings aren’t manufactured before kids can read.

What the UK ban does — and what it doesn’t

The gist of the regulation is simple on paper: junk-food adverts will not be shown on TV before the 9pm watershed and paid ads for these products will no longer appear online. Local councils have also been empowered to restrict fast-food outlets setting up shop outside schools, while an extended sugar tax now includes items such as milkshakes, ready-to-go coffees and sweetened yogurt drinks.

Banned: Paid TV ads for HFSS (high fat, salt or sugar) foods before 9pm; paid online ads for the same products.
Allowed, in some form: Brand advertising remains permissible, which critics say keeps brand recognition alive long before children develop meaningful consumer choice.
Not fully addressed: Influencer marketing and some forms of product placement, which are rapidly evolving and can be hard to police.

“By restricting adverts for junk food before 9pm and banning paid adverts online, we can remove excessive exposure to unhealthy foods,” Health Minister Ashley Dalton said as part of the policy launch, adding that the move fits into a broader strategy to shift the National Health Service’s emphasis toward prevention as well as treatment.

The human toll behind the statistics

Numbers make headlines. They also make futures. The UK government points to sobering childhood health statistics: around 22% of children starting primary school in England are overweight or obese, and by the time those children reach secondary school, the figure climbs to more than a third. Tooth decay—largely preventable—is the leading cause of hospital admissions among children aged five to nine in the UK.

For parents and teachers on the ground these are not abstractions. “You see kids trading lunchbox snacks for branded pots and pouches,” says Margaret O’Neill, a primary school teacher in Limerick. “They’re learning to link feeling good with a brand logo. That sticks.”

Public health organisations welcomed the UK’s move. Katharine Jenner, executive director of the Obesity Health Alliance, called the ban “a welcome and long-awaited step towards better protecting children from unhealthy food and drink advertising that can harm their health and wellbeing.” Diabetes UK echoed the sentiment, warning that rising rates of type 2 diabetes in young people are linked to obesity—today’s sugar habit can be tomorrow’s chronic disease.

Across the Water: Ireland Watches and Asks Why Not Us?

In Dublin, the Irish Heart Foundation listened to the announcement and issued an immediate call to action: the Government in Ireland should adopt similar restrictions. “Children in Northern Ireland will now have greater protection than their counterparts here from unscrupulous online targeting tactics by junk brands that we know are rampant,” said Chris Macey, director of advocacy at the Irish Heart Foundation. “They result in overconsumption, which in turn causes high rates of overweight and obesity that are damaging children’s long-term health.”

That observation stings because Ireland has previously been warned of the same dangers. Several policy recommendations—most notably from the Oireachtas Committee on Children and Youth Affairs—have suggested tough marketing curbs to shield kids, but many suggested measures remain unimplemented. “The implementation paralysis of successive governments, which have been well aware of the need for tough restrictions on junk food marketing, has to end. The futures of tens of thousands of today’s children depend on it,” Macey said.

Local voices: parents, shopkeepers, and the pacing of policy

Across neighbourhoods in Ireland, the issue feels both immediate and personal. Aoife Murphy, a mother of two in Galway, described the omnipresence of junk-brand imagery. “My toddler knows the mascots on cereal boxes before she can say ‘banana.’ It’s everywhere—on TV, in supermarket aisles, even in gaming apps,” she says. “A ban like this would give us a fighting chance.”

Shopkeepers argue with nuance. “We sell what people buy,” says Declan Byrne, who owns a convenience store near a secondary school in Waterford. “If demand shifts, we will too. But education and economic realities matter. Some families buy cheaper, ultra-processed food because it stretches the budget. You can’t solve this with a single law.”

Advertising, Algorithms and the Invisible Persuader

The digital dimension complicates matters. Algorithms track and learn from children’s viewing habits; influencer marketing cloaks promotion in familiarity; and brand-building campaigns aim to make recognition habitual as early as 18 months—research shows infants can identify brand logos astonishingly early in life.

Dr. Sinead O’Leary, a behavioural scientist focused on childhood nutrition, points out that “advertising doesn’t just inform; it creates a context for desire. The more exposure, the more normalised those choices become.” She warns that while the UK ban is meaningful, it is not a panacea. “Brand marketing and influencer content are the next battlegrounds.”

What else could be done?

Tackling a complex public health challenge calls for multi-pronged action. Measures experts suggest include:

Expanding restrictions to cover brand advertising and influencer promotions aimed at children.
Strengthening school food policies and restricting fast-food outlets near schools.
Investing in community-based nutrition education and subsidies for healthy foods.
Monitoring and enforcing online ad rules with clearer penalties for breaches.

Why this matters to a global audience

Childhood obesity is not a British or Irish problem alone. The World Health Organization reported that in 2020 tens of millions of children under five were overweight or obese worldwide, and rates of excess weight among school-age children have been rising in many countries. This is a global conversation about corporate influence, children’s rights, health equity, and the ethics of selling to those who can’t yet fully understand the persuasion.

As you scroll through your own feed tonight, ask yourself: who is talking to your child? Who is shaping their tastes before they learn to read nutrition labels? And what kind of world do we want them to inherit—a world where craving is manufactured and convenience rules, or one where healthy defaults are the easy and visible choice?

The UK’s ban is not the final word. It is, however, a clarion call—and a reminder that policy can change the odds in which children grow up. Whether Ireland, and indeed the wider world, will match that ambition remains to be seen. For parents like Aoife, teachers like Margaret, and doctors like Dr O’Leary, urgency is part of the daily rhythm.

“This isn’t about taking treats away,” Aoife tells me. “It’s about making sure treats stay occasional, and that our kids don’t grow up in a world where every screen is trying to sell them a shortcut to happiness.”

Will your government, community, or family step in to redraw the line between childhood and commercial persuasion? The choices we make now will shape not only calories on a plate but the contours of children’s lives for decades to come.

Calls grow for accountability after Swiss ski resort blaze

hanad

January 5, 2026

Pressure mounts for answers over Swiss ski resort fire — All 40 victims of the fire have been identified, with most of them teenagers

Crans-Montana in Mourning: A New Year’s Night That Echoes Through the Alps

On New Year’s morning, the celebratory clang of glasses and the breathless cheers that normally greet the first sunrise of the year were replaced by an ache so large a mountain town could feel it. In Crans-Montana — that beloved, picture-postcard ski resort in Switzerland’s Valais canton, where chalets slope into pine forests and luxury hotels face the glaciers — 40 lives were extinguished in a single, merciless instant.

The blaze, which tore through a basement bar in the early hours of 1 January, left more than 100 people injured and a community stunned. Most of the victims were teenagers; the youngest was only 14. Families from across Europe — France, Italy and beyond — are now counting names rather than celebrating the year ahead.

What Happened

Prosecutors say investigators believe “fountain” sparklers — the small, decorative candles that spout glittering jets and are often used on celebratory cakes — ignited the bar’s low ceiling. In a cramped, soundproofed basement crowded with revelers, flames found a ready home and moved with terrible speed.

Two people who ran the bar are under criminal investigation on suspicions that include negligent homicide. Authorities told reporters the pair are not currently being held in custody and do not appear to be a flight risk, while probes continue into inspections, safety systems and compliance with local rules.

Numbers That Won’t Fit in a Headline

Statistics alone feel thin against personal loss, but they matter. Forty dead. More than 100 injured. Teenagers among the dead. These are the hard facts the town must reconcile with the human stories behind them.

The Town Responds: Silence, Candles, Questions

Crans-Montana has always thrummed with a particular mix of Alpine luxury and youthful abandon — après-ski in one hour, classical concerts the next. But yesterday the main street hosted a silent procession. Residents wrapped scarves tight against the chill, faces flushed from cold and grief, while small groups left flowers and handwritten notes outside the bar’s shuttered façade.

“I came because we must remember,” said Marie-Claire, a local schoolteacher who joined the march. “We owe it to the young ones who went out to celebrate to make sure their laughter isn’t turned into silence for future generations.”

Across town, a makeshift memorial grew with each hour: wool hats, little ski gloves, Polaroids, and teddy bears placed against the chew of neutral stone. The sight of teenage sneakers lined up like offerings is the sort of image that lingers.

Rising Questions: Rules, Inspections, and Responsibility

Beyond grief sits an urgent, unglamorous set of questions: Had annual inspections been performed? Were ceiling materials and soundproofing compliant with fire codes? Were age checks and capacity limits enforced on a night when the crowd skewed very young?

One of the bar’s operators told local media that the venue had been inspected three times in the last decade and “everything was in order.” Canton authorities say they are reviewing whether the bar had undergone mandatory annual building inspections and whether any complaints had been lodged to the town.

Not everyone is satisfied with answers that may take weeks to arrive. “This isn’t just about one sparkler,” said Luca, a parent whose daughter was injured but survived. “It’s about whether we expect bars to be safe or whether we accept risks when there are young people in crowded spaces.”

Key Areas Investigators Are Scrutinizing

Fire-safety compliance: materials, exits, fire suppression systems
Inspection records and the frequency of official checks
Use and regulation of pyrotechnics in indoor venues
Age verification and crowd-control procedures on high-risk nights

Voices: Anger, Grief, Demand for Change

Political speech quickly followed the tragedy. Some leaders called for accountability; others urged restraint until investigators complete their work. A high-profile political figure in Italy argued publically that those responsible must face prison if negligence is found — a sentiment mirrored by many who feel justice should be swift.

“We need to know whether rules were skirted for profit,” said an emergency-room doctor in Sion who treated dozens of burn victims. “When young bodies come in with severe burns or smoke inhalation, it tests both the hospital and the community.”

A local youth worker, who preferred not to give his name, spoke of a different loss: “These kids weren’t just clients in a bar. They were our neighbors, our students. We don’t want to ban joy — but we do want to guard it better.”

Local Color and the Wider Frame

Crans-Montana is multilingual and cosmopolitan — French is dominant, but German and Italian voices are never far. In winter, the town is a collage of ski suits, fur-lined hoods, and the smell of melted cheese at every corner. That very tourism economy — the bars, the late-night venues, the event-driven calendar — is being reassessed now in light of the disaster.

This asks a broader question: how do mountain resorts balance the pulse of nightlife with the rigors of safety? Switzerland, like many European countries, has strict building codes and a layered municipal-canton regulatory structure. Yet when an establishment serves intoxicated crowds of mixed ages, enforcement gaps and the informal tolerance of youthful revelry can create dangerous seams.

Global Lessons: Nightlife, Regulation, and Youth Safety

Accidents like this reverberate far beyond the Alps. In recent years, incidents in nightclubs, festivals and public celebrations elsewhere have exposed similar fault lines: poorly maintained venues, unchecked pyrotechnics, and a mismatch between safety regulations and the reality of crowded, late-night spaces.

What does a responsible nightlife look like? It includes better training for staff, routine and transparent inspections, strict limits on indoor pyrotechnics, and clear enforcement of age and capacity rules. It also demands that locals and visitors alike recognize the human cost when corners are cut.

How You Can Reflect or Act

What should travelers consider when they go out in resort towns? How should communities protect young people who are exploring nightlife? These are not easy questions.

But when you next raise a glass in a foreign town, maybe ask: who checked the exits here? How many people could leave this room in a minute? These small, awkward questions can be the beginning of a culture that prizes safety over spectacle.

After the Smoke Clears

For now, Crans-Montana mourns. Investigations will attempt to stitch together timelines, to find a legal arc of responsibility, to name failures and recommend reforms. Families will try to bury their dead. Survivors will carry scars — seen and unseen.

And somewhere between grief and accountability, a town and a tourism industry must decide how to honor those lost: in stricter rules, better enforcement, and in a shared vow that a joyful night shouldn’t become a final one.

How do we build nightlife cultures that celebrate without endangering those who come to them? The answer will shape not just one Alpine town, but communities everywhere that gather to mark life’s milestones under low ceilings and bright sparks.

Fresh clashes erupt across Iran as protests move into second week

hanad

January 5, 2026

New clashes in Iran as protests enter second week — A protester flashes victory signs as traffic slows during demonstrations in Hamedan, Iran

Across a Winter of Discontent: Iran’s Latest Uprising and the Voices from Its Streets

On a cold night in the west of Iran, a funeral march lit up like a constellation of low flames—candles held by hands wrapped in scarves, faces lit by grief and fury. The slogans were sharp, the cadence familiar to anyone who has watched Iran’s recent cycles of protest: defiance braided with sorrow. “Enough,” a woman cried, her voice cutting through the winter air. “They have taken too much.”

What began as a shopkeepers’ strike in Tehran on December 28 has rippled into a larger movement, rolling through towns and provincial centers and returning, for many, to the memory of the mass mobilizations of 2022–23. Officials and rights groups now say at least 12 people—including members of the security forces—have died since the unrest began. Local monitors report hundreds of arrests. And while the scale has not yet eclipsed the last nationwide upheaval, the geography of this new anger is striking: it burns brightest in western provinces with large Kurdish and Lor populations.

From a Shopkeeper’s Strike to a Patchwork of Protests

The flashpoint was deceptively small: shopkeepers in Tehran closed their shutters to protest rising costs and what they said were suffocating economic policies. The strike tapped into a deeper vein of frustration. Within days, protesters were chanting not only about wages and prices but about leadership and accountability. “It started over bread and ended up asking for dignity,” said Arman, a 28-year-old teacher who travelled from Kermanshah to take part in a demonstration.

Human Rights Activists News Agency (HRANA), based in the United States, tallied that protests have occurred in 23 out of Iran’s 31 provinces and have touched at least 40 cities, most of them small and medium-sized. Rights groups headquartered in Norway—Hengaw and Iran Human Rights—reported deadly clashes in the western Ilam province. Hengaw said Revolutionary Guards opened fire in Malekshahi county, killing four Kurdish residents and wounding dozens. Iran Human Rights gave a similar toll: four dead and around 30 injured.

Authorities say that some members of the security forces also lost their lives during attempts to storm police buildings. Both sides show footage and count bodies; both sides grieve and accuse the other of violence.

Where Minority Grievances Meet Economic Pain

Western Iran has long been a complex tapestry of languages, cultures and historic grievances. Kurdish and Lor communities there often feel marginalized in national politics and economic planning. That sense of exclusion can turn ordinary protests—about food, fuel, or salaries—into something more combustible.

“We are not asking for independence,” said Rana, a 44-year-old shopkeeper in Ilam whose son attended a funeral over the weekend. “We are asking to be treated like human beings. To have our children go to school and for my husband to come home at night.” Her voice was raw, part anger and part exhaustion.

Human rights organizations also allege that authorities raided hospitals to seize bodies, a practice families say is meant to prevent public mourning from crystallizing into larger demonstrations. Funerals in the region have become both a ritual of mourning and a political act; mourners chant the names of the dead and the slogans against Tehran’s leadership, a rhythm that echoes recent history.

Tehran and the Cities: Quiet Streets, Loud Tension

In the capital, streets were oddly subdued. Most shops remained open, but major intersections were glutted with riot police and security forces. What was notable was not mass crowds in central squares—though there were pockets of defiance—but the scattered nature of demonstrations across districts in the east, west and south.

“You could see that something had shifted,” said Mina, a student in Tehran who spoke to me over the phone. “People are more careful, but they are also more ready. They whisper the same slogans we used in 2022. Everyone knows the risks, but they also know the stakes.”

Video verified by independent observers showed security forces using tear gas to disperse groups in central Tehran during the daytime. HRANA reported that at least 582 people were detained across the country during the first week of unrest.

Voices from the Ground

“They took my brother away at dawn,” said Hassan, a young man from a small town outside Shiraz. “I don’t know where he is. We just want him to come back.” His fear was contagious—later, his neighbors gathered at the municipal square, murmuring about bail, lawyers, and the price of silence.

“What you see now is the result of years of cumulative pressure,” said Dr. Sara Nouri, a sociologist who studies social movements in Iran. “Economic hardship can be an accelerant, but it’s the social fractures—the sense of exclusion and the memory of recent crackdowns—that determine how protests become sustained.”

International Echoes and Political Calculations

The unrest has not gone unnoticed abroad. U.S. political figures and leaders in the region have voiced support for the demonstrators; comments from high-profile politicians have ranged from vocal backing to ominous threats. Former U.S. President Donald Trump was quoted as saying America was “locked and loaded” should Tehran harm its protesters, while Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu publicly expressed solidarity with the demonstrators, suggesting they might be “taking their destiny into their own hands.”

Iran’s leadership faces a compounded challenge. Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, now in his late eighties and at the helm since 1989, presides over a polity that is still recovering from a summer conflict with Israel. The June confrontation—brief but intense—reportedly damaged nuclear infrastructure and cost the lives of some security figures, shaking the aura of invulnerability that often surrounds Iran’s security elite.

Counting Costs and Asking Hard Questions

The government has offered a modest concession: a monthly allowance equivalent to roughly $7 for the next four months, intended to ease immediate pain. For many protesters and analysts, that is not enough. “Seven dollars is an insult,” said Fatemeh, a nurse from a provincial city. “It is like handing a bandage to someone who needs surgery.”

What will end this wave? Will it plateau, like past cycles have, or will it gather momentum, drawing in students, public servants and the urban poor? History suggests both outcomes are possible. The 2022–23 movement, ignited by the death of Mahsa Amini in custody, demonstrated the potency of a unifying symbol. This current wave lacks a single galvanizing image, but it has a more diffuse power: chronic economic pain, minority grievances, and a younger generation less willing to bear both.

So where does that leave the reader—watching from afar or reading on a phone in a quiet living room? Consider the human faces behind each statistic: the shopkeeper who closed early to keep bread on the table, the mother who wrapped her child’s feet to keep out the cold, the student who murmured a slogan and felt the weight of a state looking back. These are not just numbers; they are pulses.

As the world watches, the ambiguous calculus of repression and concession will play out in city squares and hospital corridors. For now, the streets of Iran hold both grief and a brittle hope. And amid the smoke and the chanting, the question that will test the political order is simple: how much will people endure before they insist on more than mere allowances?

If you are reading this, ask yourself: what does it take for a society to bend—not break—under pressure? And when it bends, who decides how it straightens again?

North Korea conducts first ballistic missile test of 2026

hanad

January 5, 2026

N Korea fires ballistic missiles in first test of 2026 — North Korean leader Kim Jong Un visited major munitions industry enterprises in North Korea (credit: AFP photo/KCNA via KNS)

Dawn over the Yellow Sea: A Message Launched from Pyongyang

The sun barely had time to warm the morning when radar operators along South Korea’s eastern shoreline recorded streaks across the sky. At 07:50 local time, South Korean defence officials said, “several projectiles, presumed to be ballistic missiles” were launched from near Pyongyang and arced out over the East Sea — the waters that stitch the Korean Peninsula together with Japan and the wider Pacific.

It was a short, sharp punctuation to a tense political calendar. Hours later, South Korea’s president, Lee Jae-myung, was due to board a plane for Beijing to meet Xi Jinping. For many in Seoul and beyond, the timing felt deliberate — a reminder that Pyongyang can, and will, use missile tests as a way to influence diplomacy from a distance.

What happened — and why it matters

South Korea’s defence ministry said its forces were on full alert, reinforcing surveillance and preparing for the possibility of further launches. Japan’s defence ministry also reported detecting what it called a “possible ballistic missile” that landed in an unspecified area. Global observers registered the launches as North Korea’s first ballistic missile test since November — a period of relative quiet that now seems brittle.

“This is a calibrated signal,” said Dr. Jae‑Hyun Park, a professor of strategic studies at Seoul National University. “Not an all-out provocation, but enough to remind regional capitals that Pyongyang remains a chess player rather than a bystander. It’s about deterrence, about domestic politics, and about negotiating leverage.”

Those three threads — deterrence, domestic politics, diplomatic leverage — weave through every North Korean test. For decades, Pyongyang has insisted its nuclear and missile programs are defensive, a bulwark against alleged plans to topple the regime. Washington has repeatedly denied harbouring such intentions. Yet the rhetoric rarely quiets the rumour mill or the missile technicians.

Numbers and nuance: how big is the threat?

Hard figures on North Korea’s arsenal are estimates, not certainties. Analysts broadly place the number of nuclear warheads in Pyongyang’s possession in the low dozens; many Western assessments put the figure roughly between 40 and 60 warheads, with delivery systems — short-, medium- and long‑range ballistic missiles — increasing in both variety and technical sophistication.

“We’re not talking about a static threat,” said Maria Gutierrez, a policy analyst who follows proliferation risks. “Over the last decade, missile tests have allowed North Korea to improve guidance systems and diversify the means of delivery. Even if the headline number of warheads seems modest compared with the great powers, the combination of mobile launchers, underground facilities and solid-fuel missile research complicates any rapid military response.”

Recent years have seen Pyongyang shift from occasional big displays to more frequent, targeted tests designed to refine specific capabilities: precision strikes, solid-fuel efficiency, and multiple launch systems. Analysts also note the possible economic incentives: missiles and missile technology are export commodities in clandestine arms markets, and North Korea has signalled interest in entangled military-industrial ties with states like Russia.

Inside Pyongyang’s calculus

State media in Pyongyang had its own version of the story. KCNA reported that Kim Jong Un visited a facility producing tactical guided weapons and ordered a 250% expansion of output. The detail — and the number — was deliberate, meant to be both boast and bet: if the factories expand capacity, Pyongyang can produce more missiles, train more technicians, and, if pressed, flood the region with more hard-to-track launches.

“For them, it’s about survival and prestige,” said Hong Min, an analyst at the Korea Institute for National Unification. “The message to their own people is clear: the leadership is expanding defenses and ensuring national dignity. The message to outsiders is also clear: attacking North Korea would not be as straightforward as some might assume.”

Local voices: fishermen, commuters, and quiet worry

On the docks of Pohang, where the sea smells of iron and diesel, fishermen shrugged as if the sky’s new streaks were part of the day’s weather. “We worry about our nets, not politics,” said Mr. Choi, a 58‑year‑old who has spent decades at sea. “But every time these things fly, you feel it — like a stone dropped into your lives.”

In a cramped coffee shop near Seoul Station, a young office worker named Minji tapped her cup and said quietly, “I’m going to China next week for work. I’m not scared, but I think about kids, about what would happen if there was a panic. We’ve learned to live with this strange rhythm of tension.”

Such reactions capture the odd normalcy of the situation: people carrying on, while the strategic temperature fluctuates above them. It is a kind of frozen anxiety, always present but predictable enough to fit into routines.

Diplomatic ripples: Lee heads to Beijing

President Lee Jae‑myung’s trip to Beijing now carries new weight. South Korea hopes to harness China’s influence over Pyongyang to nudge the North toward restraint. China remains North Korea’s largest trading partner and a crucial lifeline — but Beijing is also wary of instability on its northeastern border.

“China doesn’t want a collapsed Korea on its doorstep,” an unnamed diplomatic source in Seoul told me. “But Beijing values stability first. Pressure that could crack the regime is not their preferred route. This is exactly why Seoul keeps reaching out to China, even when tensions spike.”

The summit will likely revolve around economic cooperation and regional security calculus. For Lee, the challenge is to persuade Xi that Beijing can and should play a constructive role in deterring Pyongyang’s most dangerous impulses without coercion that might lead to unpredictable outcomes.

Looking out: what comes next?

There are no easy answers. A missile arc in the sky is an expression of capability; the policy response must be an exercise in patience, deterrence, and diplomacy. Would more sanctions, more military exercises, or more diplomatic isolation change Pyongyang’s behaviour? History says not necessarily. Engagement without naiveté — that is the hard sell.

We have to ask ourselves: how do we prevent escalation when provocations arrive in the hours before diplomatic exchanges? How do communities live normal lives under the shadow of these strategic messages? And how do democratic societies balance vigilance with the fatigue of perpetual crisis?

“We need a dual track: credible defence and creative diplomacy,” said Dr. Park. “The first keeps people safe today; the second creates the conditions for safety tomorrow.”

Quick facts

Launch detected: 07:50 local time near Pyongyang.
First ballistic missile test since November, according to regional ministries.
Estimated North Korean nuclear warheads: widely assessed by analysts to be in the range of roughly 40–60; delivery systems expanding in capability.
North Korean state media (KCNA) reported Kim Jong Un ordered a 250% expansion in tactical guided weapon production.

At the end of the day, these tests are more than metal and propulsion. They are language — crude, loud, and often frightening — in which a closed regime speaks to the world. How the world replies will shape not only the Korean Peninsula, but the rules and rhythms of 21st‑century diplomacy. Will we respond with escalation, or with a steadier hand aimed at reducing risk and opening avenues for dialogue? That choice will define the years to come.

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