Dec 26(Jowhar)-Israel ayaa si rasmi ah u aqoonsatay madaxbannaanida Jamhuuriyadda Somaliland, sida lagu sheegay warsaxaafadeed maanta oo ay taariikhdu tahay 26.12.2025.
Zelensky Says ‘Very Good’ U.S. Talks Advance Deal to End War
When Diplomacy and Destruction Meet: A Night of Missiles, Meetings and Fragile Hope
There are moments when the world feels split in two: one half bent over negotiation tables, the other lit by the orange glow of distant fires. Last week offered exactly that uncomfortable duality — Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky sitting down, in essence, with envoys dispatched by the White House’s inner circle, while across the border Ukrainian forces struck deep into Russian energy hubs.
“We had very good conversations,” Zelensky posted, the words clipped but hopeful, speaking of talks with Steve Witkoff and Jared Kushner — envoys representing U.S. interests and a determination, by all accounts, to wring an end to what he called “this brutal Russian war.” He thanked them for “constructive approach, intensive work, and kind words.” It was the kind of message that reads like a bargaining chip: public optimism, private pressure.
Behind closed doors — and on screens
The envoys’ visit and the discussions they reportedly had with Ukrainian negotiators are part of a broader, painstaking process. Kyiv says it and Washington agreed on a draft 20-point plan outlining a pathway toward peace; Russia is now reviewing that text. Zelensky acknowledged that not everything in the draft was to his liking, but celebrated some important deletions — notably any immediate requirement for Ukrainian withdrawal from parts of Donetsk or formal recognition of Moscow’s territorial gains.
“These are small victories in a very large war,” said one Kyiv-based diplomat, speaking on condition of anonymity. “Removing the immediate withdrawal clauses is crucial. It buys Ukraine time and preserves options.” Rustem Umerov, Ukraine’s chief negotiator, is expected to continue talks with the U.S. envoys, an acknowledgment that this is a marathon, not a sprint.
Not everyone, though, sees papyrus as peace. Maria Zakharova, the Russian Foreign Ministry spokeswoman, framed talks with the United States as “slow but steady progress” — a diplomatic phrase that can mean many things. She also accused Western European states of trying to “torpedo the process,” and urged Washington to counteract these spoilers.
Explosions miles away: warfare and the economics of conflict
While diplomats shuffled paper, Ukrainian forces reportedly launched British-made Storm Shadow cruise missiles and long-range domestic drones against several Russian oil and gas facilities. The Ukrainian General Staff reported a strike on the Novoshakhtinsk refinery in Rostov; Russian regional authorities reported fires after drone hits at the port of Temryuk in Krasnodar. Ukraine’s security service said a gas-processing plant in Orenburg — some 1,400km from the Ukrainian border — was also targeted.
“Multiple explosions were recorded. The target was hit,” the General Staff wrote on Telegram. Images and videos circulating on social media showed columns of black smoke, firefighters silhouetted against roaring flames — the kind of images that strip diplomacy of its soothing veneer.
Why the refinery? Because energy is not just infrastructure; it is cash. International analysts have long pointed to oil and gas revenues as vital for Moscow’s war machine. Hydrocarbons have historically supplied a substantial share of federal revenues — often estimated in the low-to-mid tens of percent. Cutting that tap, Kyiv reasons, could blunt Russia’s capacity to sustain operations.
Night-watchers, villagers and soldiers
On the ground, ordinary people mark these strategies with a mix of resignation and defiance. “We woke up to the sound of sirens and then the smell of smoke,” said Olga, a nurse in a small town near Rostov, voice tight with exhaustion. “We don’t talk politics here; we talk about how to get the kids out if the house burns.” A Russian refinery worker, speaking to a regional news outlet, described a “harrowing” night as crews fought flames. “We are not soldiers. We are mothers, fathers, sons,” he said.
On the Ukrainian side, a junior officer in the air force who asked to be identified only by first name, Dmytro, said: “Every target is chosen because it sustains the enemy’s ability to fight. We don’t celebrate the fires. We calculate.” His words carried the weary resolve of someone living inside a calculus of survival.
Border jitters in Europe: balloons, jets and a frayed security tapestry
Elsewhere this week, Poland scrambled jets to escort a Russian reconnaissance plane seen near Polish airspace over the Baltic Sea. At the same time, dozens of objects reportedly crossed into Polish airspace from Belarus overnight — some were identified as likely smuggling balloons. Polish authorities warned the incidents, occurring during the holiday season, could be provocations.
“The mass nature and timing of these incursions make it hard to call them accidental,” said a Polish border official. “There’s a pattern of pressure along NATO’s eastern flank.” Vilnius, too, has reported smuggler balloons disrupting air traffic in recent months — incidents it characterizes as a “hybrid attack” by Belarus, which denies responsibility.
For Polish villagers near the Belarusian frontier these events are not abstract. “We keep our children inside when the drones come,” said Marta, who runs a small grocer’s in a border town. “In the winter, we cannot assume safety.” This is the small-scale human terrain where geopolitics becomes daily fear.
The human ledger: counting costs — and doing the math
The exact human toll of the war remains contested, but independent estimates — and the daily witness of hospitals, refugee centers and bereaved families — point to tens of thousands of lives upended. Millions more have been displaced inside Ukraine or forced to seek shelter abroad. Every broken refinery, every flicker of black smoke, translates into lost jobs, disrupted logistics and further displacement.
As for the peace process itself, the questions multiply. How do you negotiate with a state that insists on territorial concessions as precondition? How can mediators ensure any agreement is verifiable and durable? And what role will external powers play when their own domestic politics are often part of the calculation?
What happens next — and why you should care
For the rest of the world, this is not a distant dispute. It is a test of whether diplomacy can coexist with deterrence, whether economic tools — sanctions, gas-price politics — can be made to count, and whether war-era innovations like long-range drones will rewrite the rules of conflict. It is also a humanitarian challenge: winter is coming each year in this war zone, and civilian needs remain stark.
“Peace is not a single document,” an international relations scholar told me. “It’s a tapestry of guarantees, verification mechanisms, and most importantly, political will. You can draft a plan in any capital, but implementation requires states to accept short-term pain for long-term stability.” That, he shrugged, is the trickiest currency of all.
So what should you watch for? Look for follow-up talks involving Rustem Umerov and the U.S. envoys, for any Russian response to the 20-point plan, and for further kinetic activity around energy infrastructure. Listen to voices on the ground: whether in Kyiv, Rostov, Temryuk, Maikop or the small towns along Belarus’s border, because they will be the ones to live with any peace — or any continued war.
And finally, ask yourself: if diplomacy is to succeed, how much discomfort are countries prepared to absorb today to prevent another decade of devastation tomorrow? The answer will shape not just a region, but a world increasingly connected by energy, weapons, and the fragile hope that talks can matter. Will they?
Midowga Yurub, Faransiiska iyo Jarmalka oo cambaareeyay Mamnuucidda Fiisaha Mareykanka oo ah Faaf-reeb
Dec 26(Jowhar)- Midowga Yurub, Faransiiska iyo Jarmalka ayaa dhammaantood si xooggan u cambaareeyay go’aankii dhawaan Mareykanka uu ku mamnuucay fiisooyinka qaar ee mas’uuliyiinta Shiinaha oo ku saabsanaa caburinta Shiinaha ee xorriyadda hadalka iyo xuquuqda kale ee Hong Kong.
Mareykanka ayaa duqeymo u geystay dagaalyahannada Daacish ee waqooyi-galbeed Nigeria
Dec 26(Jowhar)-Mareykanka ayaa duqeymo ka geystay dagaalyahannada Daacish ee waqooyi-galbeed Nigeria, si loola dagaallamo khatarta sii kordheysa ee argagixisada ee gobolka.
Israel says criticism of new West Bank settlements is unjustified
On the Edge of an Olive Grove: How a Cabinet Decision Reopened a Wound
There is a kind of silence that arrives before the first birdsong in the villages of the West Bank—soft, expectant, threaded with the smell of damp earth and crushed olives. It is here, beneath terraces that have belonged to families for generations, that the abstract language of geopolitics suddenly finds a human voice: the farmer who cannot reach his grove because of a new road, the mother who counts the children at checkpoints, the neighbor who listens for the engines of bulldozers.
Recently, that silence was broken not by machinery but by ink: Israel’s cabinet approved the creation of 11 new settlements and formalized eight more in the occupied West Bank. The move—heralded by some Israeli officials as a matter of security and identity—was met by a sharp international rebuke. Fourteen Western countries, including Ireland, Britain, France, Germany, Spain and Canada, issued a joint statement condemning what they called a unilateral action that violates international law. Ireland’s foreign minister, Helen McEntee, was among those to sign the diplomatic protest.
“A moral line has been crossed,” said a diplomat
“These are not mere administrative adjustments,” one European diplomat told me on background. “They chip away at the possibility of a two-state solution in ways that are irreversible.”
From Jerusalem, the Israeli government pushed back. Foreign Minister Gideon Saar argued fiercely that external players had no right to dictate where Jews live. “Foreign governments will not restrict the right of Jews to live in the land of Israel, and any such call is morally wrong and discriminatory against Jews,” he said, placing the move in moral and historical terms. And in the corridors of power, the far-right finance minister framed the settlements as a bulwark against a future Palestinian state.
Two Realities, One Landscape
The numbers are stark. Since the 1967 war, Israel has maintained control over the West Bank. Excluding east Jerusalem, more than 500,000 Israelis now live in settlements there, while roughly three million Palestinians call the same territory home. These figures are more than statistics—they map onto olive groves, playgrounds, small factories, and the intertwined daily rhythms of two peoples whose lives are separated by walls, laws, and narratives.
International organisations have been watching this expansion for years. The United Nations reported that settlement expansion reached its highest level in recent years—higher than at any point since at least 2017. For many legal experts, the issue is clear-cut: under long-established international law, the transfer of an occupying power’s civilian population into occupied territory is prohibited. For many Israeli politicians, who draw on historical memory and security anxieties, the insistence that these areas are off-limits resonates as an existential threat.
On the ground: voices of worry and defiance
Walk the dusty lanes near a small Palestinian town and you will hear a range of reactions. “They put up a sign last week saying the road is ‘state land,’” says Ahmad, a man in his fifties who has tended his family’s plot since childhood. “How can a line on paper make my trees disappear from my hands? My grandchildren play under those trees.”
On the other side, an Israeli settler in a newly formalised community speaks through a different lens. “We don’t come here to take, we come to build,” she told me. “This land is part of our story. We are not the enemy.”
Between these two perspectives sits an uneasy truth: every new housing block, every zoning regulation, shifts the balance—practically and psychologically—away from a shared future and toward greater separation.
Why the World Reacted — and Why Israel Calls It Discriminatory
The joint statement from the 14 countries warned that such unilateral actions “violate international law” and risk destabilising a fragile ceasefire that has been in place since 10 October. For many in Europe and North America, the settlements are a tangible obstacle to the vision of two democratic states living side-by-side in peace and security. Governments reiterated their “unwavering commitment to a comprehensive, just and lasting peace” rooted in that two-state idea.
Inside Israel, however, the language of international law is often countered by memory and security. “When we talk to communities that have endured violence,” a senior Israeli official said, “there is a legitimate demand for secure, defensible borders and for areas that preserve Jewish life.” To opponents of the international rebuke, the criticism smacks of double standards and — in the words of some Israeli leaders — discrimination against Jews when they seek to live in what they regard as historic lands.
Experts weigh in
“This is a classic case of policy producing hard facts on the ground,” says Dr. Sara Mendel, an international law scholar I spoke with. “Over time, households built, roads paved, and institutions established become entrenched. That makes reversing course less likely and the diplomatic options narrower.”
Another analyst offered a warning with a historian’s cadence: “Settlements have always been more than architecture. They’re political statements. Each new neighborhood changes expectations and, in turn, policy.”
Bigger Questions: Security, Identity, and the Shape of a Future Peace
This decision is not a single event; it is a symptom. It raises urgent questions about what security means in contested landscapes—whether security is best achieved through separation or through political compromise. It raises questions about identity, too: who has the right to live where, and on what historical or legal grounds are those rights defended?
And it points to a broader global pattern: when entrenched disputes meet assertive populist politics, small policy choices can become tectonic. How do external actors respond? Should diplomatic pressure, economic incentives, and legal argument be enough? Or does the reality on the ground simply outpace the best-laid plans?
What might come next?
- More diplomatic friction between Israel and Western allies.
- Increased legal challenges and UN scrutiny of settlement activity.
- Local tensions that could inflame security incidents, undermining any fragile ceasefires.
None of these outcomes are inevitable. But they are real possibilities—unless political leaders choose, with courage and imagination, a different path.
Leaving the Reader with a Question
As you read these words, imagine standing beneath that olive tree with Ahmad, feeling the rough bark in your palm. Whose claim looks more convincing then? Which future feels more humane? The answers will depend, in part, on how the international community, Israeli leaders, Palestinian voices, and ordinary people choose to act in the coming months.
For now, the groves keep their quiet. The world watches. And the debate over land, law and the right to belong continues, branch by branch, decision by decision, until a different kind of future is chosen.
United States launches strikes on ISIS militants in northwest Nigeria
Under the Same Night Sky: A Strike, a State, and the Quiet Work of War
It was not thunder that rolled over Sokoto that night but a distant, mechanical roar — a shot fired not from the soil of northwest Nigeria, but from beyond its horizon. Villagers later described a bright streak slicing the heavens and a tremor in the dust underfoot. For many, it was another jolt in a long, bad year. For others it was, at least for the moment, a line drawn against the violence that has hollowed out communities across vast swathes of the country.
The United States, at the behest of Abuja, carried out an air strike against militants linked to the Islamic State in northwest Nigeria, U.S. and Nigerian officials said. Washington framed the operation as a precision strike aimed at degrading fighters who had been blamed for a wave of attacks on civilians. Nigeria’s foreign ministry called it a coordinated move in an ongoing security partnership — the latest chapter in a complicated, often fraught counter‑insurgency story.
What Happened
According to military sources, the strike targeted suspected IS-affiliated camps in Sokoto state. A video released by the Pentagon showed a projectile streaking from a naval platform. U.S. Africa Command described the hits as “precision” and said multiple militants were killed. Nigeria’s foreign minister said the operation was a “joint” one, carried out with intelligence shared by Abuja.
“This has been planned for quite some time,” a Nigerian foreign ministry statement read, emphasizing that the operation was aimed at “terrorists” rather than adherents of any faith. A U.S. defense official added that strikes followed weeks of intelligence‑gathering flights over parts of the country.
Voices from the Ground
Out in the markets of Sokoto, conversation moved between relief and wariness. “We heard the sound late, we saw the light,” said Amina Idris, a market trader who fled her village three years ago after a militia attack. “People are tired. We want safety for our children. But then, who stays to protect us tomorrow?”
An elder in a nearby town, who asked that his name not be used for fear of reprisals, was blunt. “Foreign planes come, bombs fall, and sometimes it feels like the world treats our suffering like a chessboard,” he said. “If these strikes keep fighters from taking another village, then so be it. But we have been ignored for years.”
Security analysts note the fragile calculus here. “External strikes can be a force‑multiplier for local security forces,” said Dr. Chinedu Okafor, a Lagos-based expert on insurgency. “But they are not a cure. Without local governance, humanitarian support, and credible policing, the vacuum will be filled again.”
A Fractured Narrative: Who Is Being Targeted?
Domestic politics and religious narratives have complicated public perception. President Donald Trump — who has increasingly framed the violence in Nigeria as an existential threat to Christian communities — announced on social media that he had ordered the strike, calling it a response to assaults he described as particularly brutal.
Nigerian officials and many observers caution against a simplistic religious framing. Yusuf Maitama Tuggar, Nigeria’s foreign minister, told international outlets the operation targeted “terrorists,” not a faith group, and that victims of armed groups in Nigeria are both Muslims and Christians. The country’s population, split roughly between Muslims in the north and Christians in the south, has long been vulnerable to identity politics that militants exploit.
“Militant groups in Nigeria have evolved,” explained Aisha Bello, a human-rights worker in Abuja. “There are assassinations, village raids, kidnappings for ransom, and clashing local dynamics — land disputes, cattle farming, banditry — that get folded into broader extremist narratives. To say one side only is targeted is to ignore the complexity on the ground.”
Context: Decades of Conflict, Millions Displaced
Nigeria is Africa’s most populous nation — home to about 220 million people — and its security landscape is a patchwork. The northeast has been ravaged for more than a decade by Boko Haram and the Islamic State West Africa Province (ISWAP), which together have killed and displaced tens of thousands and uprooted millions. In the northwest and central belt, banditry and communal violence have added another layer of grief, with mass kidnappings and attacks leaving villages empty.
Last week, a suspected suicide bombing at a mosque in the northeast killed at least five people and wounded dozens more — a grim reminder that violence is neither distant nor contained. President Bola Tinubu used his holiday message to appeal for religious peace, promising to protect “Christians, Muslims, and all Nigerians from violence.”
Why America Is Involved
U.S. involvement is not new. For years, American forces have provided training, intelligence support, surveillance, and logistics to partner nations across West Africa. In recent months, the presence of U.S. reconnaissance flights and intelligence assets over parts of Nigeria has increased, officials say, as Washington seeks to blunt threats to Americans and to regional stability.
“We’re responding to a request from a sovereign government,” a U.S. defense official said. “These are targeted strikes, designed to limit the operational capabilities of extremist groups and reduce the threat to civilians.” The official, speaking on background, added, “We’re not seeking permanent basing or boots on the ground beyond advisory and intelligence roles.”
Local Color and Long Shadows
Sokoto is a land of sun-warmed clay and centuries-old history — once the seat of a powerful caliphate, with mosques and palaces that still thread the skyline. Traders braid dates and spices on woven mats. Camels tediously cross dusty trade routes; children spin around ancient wells. Yet the same soil has been the scene of sudden violence, burnt compounds and families on the move.
“I miss the sound of our market — the bargaining, the laughter,” said Musa, a farmer now camping on the outskirts of town. “You wake up thinking about your crops, then a message comes: don’t go to the field. You plan your day around fear.”
The Bigger Questions
Is kinetic action enough? Can strikes — however precise — dislodge ideologies and the local grievances that fuel recruitment? Or will the latest intervention become, for many, another temporary reprieve in a cycle of violence?
There are no easy answers. Experts stress that military tactics must be paired with political solutions: land reforms, reconciliation processes, economic development, and support for local justice mechanisms. “Security is a composite,” Dr. Okafor said. “You cannot bomb your way to governance.”
What to Watch Next
- Whether Nigeria and the U.S. carry out follow‑up operations and how those are framed domestically.
- Humanitarian conditions in the affected areas — whether civilians are displaced and what aid reaches them.
- How local leaders and traditional institutions are engaged in stabilization efforts.
Closing: A Shared Horizon
Across oceans and lines of command, decisions were made that night that ripple into villagers’ lives. A missile’s distant light can mean the end of an immediate threat — or the beginning of new displacements, new grievances. The people I spoke with in Sokoto asked for one thing, plainly: the chance to sleep without fear.
That request — simple, profound — is a test of international cooperation and of Nigerian governance alike. It asks whether fleeting moments of military success can be translated into sustained safety, whether global powers and local communities can stitch a durable peace from the same frayed cloth.
What do we, as readers and global citizens, imagine in response? Do we see a roadmap that ties protection to justice and development? Or do we accept snapshots of relief that leave the long story unchanged?
The night sky in Sokoto will clear and cloud again. The people there — farmers, traders, elders — will keep watch. So must the rest of us, not only for the drama of strikes and headlines, but for the slow, necessary work of rebuilding lives after the noise fades.
Authorities uncover over one million additional potential Jeffrey Epstein documents
A Million Papers, One Pause: Inside the New Pause in the Epstein File Releases
On a gray December morning in Manhattan, the courthouse steps felt unusually crowded with a different kind of foot traffic — not the usual lawyers and tourists, but reporters with steaming coffee, advocates clutching folders, and neighbours peering out from behind bus windows. News had broken overnight: federal prosecutors and the FBI had handed the Department of Justice more than a million additional documents that might touch the long, tangled web around financier Jeffrey Epstein. The result: a pause in a release the country had been promised, and a small national crisis about how much the public should know — and how much must remain private.
What happened — in plain terms
The Justice Department confirmed that the Southern District of New York and the FBI turned over what officials called “mass volumes” of material tied to investigations into Epstein, his associates, and the networks alleged to have enabled his crimes. The transfer came after Congress — Republicans and Democrats together — passed a law forcing the release of files by a set deadline. But the influx of more than a million pages of newly identified documents meant a deadline could not be met without sacrificing victims’ privacy, the DOJ said.
“We have lawyers working around the clock to review and make the legally required redactions to protect victims, and we will release the documents as soon as possible,” a Justice Department spokesperson told reporters. “Due to the mass volume of material, this process may take a few more weeks.”
A familiar but painful backdrop
For those following the Epstein story, this is not a new scene. Epstein was arrested in July 2019 on federal sex trafficking charges; he died in custody that August. His name is tied to a sidelong catalogue of wealth, power and alleged abuse. The public release of documents related to his case, ordered recently by federal lawmakers, was supposed to pull back the curtain on how investigations were handled and who was involved. Instead, much of what has been released so far has come with thick black bars — redactions that have infuriated both critics of the administration and those who feel the system should shield victims.
“People want answers. Victims want acknowledgement,” said a Manhattan-based victim advocate who asked not to be named. “But they don’t want their trauma paraded in public. That’s the grief here: transparency versus dignity.”
Redactions, deadlines and political pressure
The law fast-tracked by Congress required documents to be made public, with allowances to redact intimate or identifying details to protect victims. But lawmakers also put a hard date on the release — and political operatives on both sides of the aisle quickly turned the file dump into fodder for power politics. Republicans criticized the White House for protecting allies; Democrats accused the administration of delaying justice. The result was a national tug-of-war played out in courtrooms, congressional offices and on cable news.
“The American people have a right to know the truth,” said one Republican member of Congress on a morning broadcast. “But we also have a duty not to traumatize those who were harmed.”
Yet the most immediate, practical stumbling block is not politics alone: it’s sheer scale. Millions of pages of documents — emails, investigative notes, phone records, witness statements — must be combed, names checked, identities shielded where appropriate. That is painstaking, tedious, human work that doesn’t respond well to political deadlines.
Voices from the street: how the city is feeling
Outside the courthouse, the conversation ranged from weary cynicism to raw hope. On a side street near Foley Square, a café owner who has seen plenty of protests over the years described the scene in earthy terms.
“People keep coming in asking, ‘Did you see the new stuff?’” she said, wiping a counter. “Everyone wants the truth, but nobody wants to be the spectacle.”
A retired NYPD detective, sipping tea on a bench, added, “I’ve worked cases that were shorter than these files look. The problem is, when powerful people are involved, files get complicated. Not all of it is cover-up; some is just bureaucracy. But it feeds suspicion.”
Experts weigh in
Legal scholars and civil liberties advocates say this episode illustrates deeper tensions in how democracies handle mass disclosures: the public’s right to information versus the individual’s right to privacy. “We have to remember the legal standard,” said a law professor who studies criminal procedure. “Victim privacy is not optional. Federal statutes and court rules require it. The solution is not to steamroll protections in the name of expediency.”
At the same time, the professor warned of the political risk of repeated redactions. “When government repeatedly releases heavily redacted documents, it erodes trust. People assume there’s something to hide, whether there is or not.”
Numbers that matter
Some context to ground the debate: the newly reported trove amounts to more than one million documents. The release law demanded an initial public accounting by December 19, but the DOJ now says the review will take weeks longer. Earlier batches of released files — those processed before the newly found documents surfaced — contained extensive redactions that many observers described as obstructive rather than protective.
Meanwhile, the broader implications are stark. Epstein’s case touched international jurisdictions, private islands, jet logs, and sprawling networks of alleged abuse; investigators had pursued leads in multiple countries. What is finally revealed — and what remains shielded — will shape public perception of both past investigative choices and of institutional accountability for years to come.
Victims and advocates: the emotional ledger
For survivors and their allies, the stakes are not abstract. “This is about names that were erased from their lives by fear and coercion,” said a survivor who has spoken publicly about abuse. “We don’t want our pain turned into political theater, but we want the true scale of what happened acknowledged. Redactions can protect privacy. But they’ve also been used to protect reputation.”
Advocates have called for an independent review — not merely by the agencies that handled the investigations — arguing that only a transparent, third-party audit can restore faith in the system.
Why this matters beyond Manhattan
Ask yourself: why should someone in Lagos, in Lisbon, in Lagos, or in Lima care about a new mountain of documents filed in New York? Because the Epstein story is not just a local scandal. It is an indictment of global inequality — where wealth buys access, and secrecy can become a form of immunity. It raises uncomfortable questions about power, accountability and how transnational networks exploit gaps in law enforcement cooperation. As governments around the world reckon with their own scandals, the way the U.S. handles these files will become a model — for good or ill.
“This isn’t just about one man,” said a human rights lawyer who has worked on transnational trafficking cases. “It’s about systems that allowed abuse to persist. Governments must make victims central, but they must also communicate clearly with the public. A rush to secrecy erodes trust everywhere.”
Looking forward: what to watch
Expect the coming weeks to be dominated by three tensions: the pace of the DOJ’s redaction work; political attempts to shape public interpretation of whatever gets released; and legal challenges from parties seeking to block or broaden disclosure. Watch also for independent journalists and nonprofit organizations to sift through what becomes available — they will play a crucial role in translating thousands of pages into narratives the wider world can understand.
For now, on a chilly New York afternoon, the courthouse felt suspended between two kinds of time: the slow, meticulous time of investigators and the impatient, relentless time of public demand. Which clock will win out? That is a question not just for Washington but for anyone who believes a democracy must be accountable to the people it serves.
When the files finally emerge, will they bring closure, more questions, or both? Stay curious. Stay critical. And remember: the pursuit of truth can be messy, but silence is seldom the cure.
Pope Dies During Jubilee Year; Cardinals Elect New Pontiff
A Year That Began with Hope and Ended with an Empty Chair
On a cold, star-scraped Christmas Eve in 2024, a hush fell over St Peter’s Square as Pope Francis pushed open the Holy Door of St Peter’s Basilica. Lanterns shook in the wind. Pilgrims craned their necks. The act was meant to be an invitation — a year of renewal, a Jubilee of Hope, a collective exhale for a Church hungry for mercy, repair and service.
There is an old Roman saying that faith looks best in the street: in the faces of people clustered on cobbled alleys, clutching candles, trading the busyness of life for a moment of intersection with the sacred. That night, a young volunteer from Lima, her scarf knotted to ward off the cold, told me, “We came for hope. Not as a poster, but as something we can hold.”
When the Shepherd Fell Ill
Hope, it turned out, would be tested early in the Jubilee year. In February, Pope Francis — who had become, for many, the image of a softer papacy — was admitted to Rome’s Gemelli Hospital with pneumonia. The medical bulletins were clinical. The chatter in cafés and sacristies was not.
Five weeks later, he came back to a Vatican that seemed both relieved and fragile. Hospital staff described at times how “touch and go” his condition had been. Doctors urged a long convalescence; an 88‑year‑old pontiff was advised to rest for months. He rested briefly, but never for long.
His last public engagement was emblematic: Easter Sunday, 25 April, St Peter’s Square heavy with pilgrims. Frail but steady, he mounted the popemobile and delivered the Urbi et Orbi blessing. He made a slow loop among the crowd — a final, intimate gesture to people who had followed his emphasis on outreach to the poor and the marginalised.
That evening, he clasped the hand of his nurse, Massimiliano Strappetti, and thanked him for seeing him to the square. At dawn the next day, a sudden illness came like a winter storm. Vatican officials later said he did not suffer long. “It was quick,” a nurse told local reporters; “he had a moment to say goodbye.”
The World Paused
When the Holy Father died on Easter Monday, the symbolism was impossible to ignore. A Jubilee intended to celebrate life and renewal had, in its early months, been bookended by mourning.
Condolences poured in from capitals and parish houses alike. Religious leaders praised a pope who had made the poor and the planet central themes of his pontificate. In Dublin, President Michael D. Higgins — a frequent interlocutor on issues from global hunger to climate justice — described the late pontiff’s “warmth and humility,” words echoed by hundreds who filed past the modest wooden casket placed in St Peter’s Basilica.
Among the sea of mourners were pilgrims from Ireland, Philippines, Brazil, and parts beyond. A Dublin grandmother, pushing a pram, said simply, “He made us feel small mistakes were still forgiven.” Around 250,000 people paid respects, many leaving handwritten notes between the slats of the coffin — a raw, communal liturgy of grief.
Diplomacy in a Basilica
Even funerals are sites of geopolitics. Photos of two world leaders — the U.S. president and the Ukrainian president — deep in conversation inside the Basilica split the news cycle. For a moment, beneath mosaics that have watched centuries, the world’s aches converged: war, asylum, hunger, power. “It was a meeting of two histories,” said a veteran Vatican diplomat. “Places of mourning often become stages for the living to make new claims.”
From Mourning to the Sistine Ceiling: The Conclave
The College of Cardinals retired behind conclave doors against a backdrop of turbulent expectations. Under Francis, cardinals from the Global South and pastoral shepherds had won prominence, and many expected that the next leader would extend that embrace.
Still, few predicted the outcome when, after a swift and unexpectedly decisive two-day ballot, an Augustinian American cardinal emerged as Pope Leo XIV. The election of Cardinal Robert Prevost — a man who had worked extensively in pastoral and diplomatic posts — was a surprise that also felt like a bridge: continuity in spirit, fresh leadership in style.
“The cardinals were looking for calm,” said Fr Paul Finnerty, rector of the Irish College in Rome, who had known the new pope for years. “Someone who could walk gently but speak clearly.”
The Voice of Pope Leo XIV
Pope Leo XIV’s first words, offered from the balcony to St Peter’s Square, were plain: “Peace be with you all.” The phrase landed like a benediction in a world that seems hungrier for concord than ever.
He has been described as measured, diplomatic and pastoral — a man who prefers conversation to confrontation. Early in his tenure he authorised the publication of a Vatican commission report on women deacons that concluded historical and theological grounds did not yet support ordination. That decision drew both weary sighs and calls for renewed study. “Not a flat refusal,” one cleric said; “more a challenge to keep looking.”
On hot-button social questions, he has been cautious. Asked about inclusion of LGBTQ+ people in the Church, he signalled fidelity to existing teaching while urging pastoral sensitivity. On migration — a topic that animated one of his earliest public statements as pope — he acknowledged states’ rights to control borders but urged humane treatment for people in detention, calling for systems that uphold dignity.
Appointments, a New Tone
Pope Leo’s episcopal appointments have been telling. In the United States, he named Bishop Aldon Ronald Hicks — a Latin America‑seasoned American — as Archbishop of New York, signalling pastoral credentials for a traditionally influential seat. In England and Wales, Bishop Richard Moth’s appointment to Westminster suggested a focus on stability and outreach.
Back in August, the beatification of Carlo Acutis, a 15‑year‑old who died of leukemia in 2006, drew surprising numbers of young people to the Vatican — a visible reminder that the Church’s future may well be shaped by a new generation. A late‑2024 Bible Society/YouGov poll of 13,146 adults even reported that among churchgoers aged 18–34, Catholics now outnumber Anglicans — a demographic shift that should give bishops and parishes much to consider.
Bridges East and West
Pope Leo’s first international journey to Turkey and Lebanon emphasized reunion and dialogue. Visiting sites linked to the Council of Nicaea and sitting at tables with Orthodox counterparts, he cast his pontificate as an effort to mend ancient rifts — East and West, altar and table.
Closer to home, a historic shared prayer with Anglican leaders and King Charles and Queen Camilla signalled a willingness to lean into ecumenism. In the press, it was easy to read these gestures as diplomatic theatre — but for many on the ground they felt like small, steady acts of reconciliation.
What Comes Next?
Pope Leo XIV has published his first apostolic exhortation, Dilexi te — a document started by his predecessor and finished under his hand. It asks the Church to keep its eyes on the poor and the marginalised; it was received warmly by charities such as the St Vincent de Paul Society. Yet the road ahead is long.
Important anniversaries loom: Catholic Emancipation’s bicentenary in 2029, a global commemoration of two millennia since the death and resurrection of Christ in 2033, and in Ireland, a 1,500‑year mark of Christianity’s arrival in 2032. Could the new pope come to Ireland then? Archbishop Eamon Martin’s office says an invitation remains open.
So here is my question to you: in an era of climate anxiety, migration crises and deep cultural divides, what do you want from a global Church? Do you want a steady bureaucrat, a prophetic voice, or a pastor who sits on the street and listens? Pope Leo XIV’s early months suggest he aspires to be a bridge-builder. Time will tell whether bridges hold when storms come.
For now, in the cafés of Rome and in parish halls from Buenos Aires to Belfast, people are still trading stories about that last blessing, that wooden coffin, that balcony blessing. They are still asking how a worldwide community of 1.3 billion Catholics — diverse, disputed, devout — will find pathways to mercy in a fractious world. The Jubilee of Hope began as a door thrown open. The real work, as always, is walking through it.
EU, France and Germany Denounce US Visa Bans as Censorship
When Diplomacy Meets the Moderators: A Transatlantic Row Over Speech, Safety and Sovereignty
It was a chilly morning in Brussels when the first alerts began pinging across journalists’ phones: the United States had quietly added five European citizens to a visa-ban list, accusing them of curbing free expression and unfairly pressuring American tech platforms. The move landed like a stone tossed into an already choppy ocean of US–Europe relations, sending ripples through capitals from Berlin to Paris and into the buzzing co‑working spaces of London.
The targeted individuals are an eclectic group of regulators, activists and analysts: Thierry Breton, the former French finance minister and ex‑European commissioner who helped shepherd the EU’s Digital Services Act; Imran Ahmed, who runs the Center for Countering Digital Hate and is based in Britain; two German activists, Anna‑Lena von Hodenberg and Josephine Ballon of the NGO HateAid; and Clare Melford, co‑founder of the Global Disinformation Index. All five, according to the US, have crossed a line—either constraining speech or imposing undue burdens on American tech firms.
Why This Feels Bigger Than Five Visas
At first glance, a visa ban is a technical, bureaucratic gesture. In practice, it is a diplomatic rebuke hard to miss. “This is a symbol — a sharp, deliberate signal that Washington is willing to weaponize access,” said Lucie Moreau, a Paris‑based digital rights lawyer. “It’s not just about travel. It’s about pressure.”
For European officials, the insult stings because it targets people who were central to crafting the Digital Services Act (DSA), a sweeping EU law intended to make the online world safer. The DSA, among other things, compels very large online platforms—those with roughly 45 million or more EU users—to take concrete steps against illegal content, from hate speech to child sexual abuse material. To supporters, it is a rules‑based attempt to align online spaces with offline norms. To critics in some corners of Washington, it is regulatory overreach that may muzzle American tech firms.
“Freedom of expression is a fundamental right in Europe and a shared core value with the United States across the democratic world,” a European Commission spokesperson said, adding that Brussels would seek answers and, if necessary, respond “swiftly and decisively” to defend its regulatory autonomy.
Voices From the Street
At a café a stone’s throw from the Commission’s glass tower on Rue de la Loi, telephone conversations and heated debates mix with the smell of espresso. “We don’t think the DSA is censorship,” said Jörg Keller, who volunteers at a Berlin civic tech hub. “We think it’s risk management. If platforms ignore clear harms, why should regulators look the other way?”
Across the Seine, in a narrow Paris lane where Breton once cut his teeth, retired schoolteacher Anne‑Sophie Dupont shook her head. “People worry about speech being restricted,” she said. “But they worry more about the children they see on the news, about the threats to minorities. There has to be some balance.”
Politics, Personalities and the Musk Factor
The dispute is not only institutional; it is personal. Elon Musk’s X (formerly Twitter) was fined €120 million by Brussels recently for breaching EU content rules—an action that drew ire in Washington and added petrol to a transatlantic fire. Musk and Thierry Breton have traded barbs online for months. Musk has called Breton the “tyrant of Europe”; Breton responded by defending the democratic process that produced the DSA.
“Is McCarthy’s witch hunt back?” Breton asked on his social feed, pointing out that the DSA received broad political support across the European Parliament and from all 27 member states. Whether you call it regulation or protection, the debate now sits at the intersection of tech policy and geopolitics.
Reaction From Governments: A Rarely Harmonious Chorus
Paris reacted swiftly and angrily. President Emmanuel Macron denounced the US measures as “intimidation and coercion aimed at undermining European digital sovereignty,” reminding followers that the DSA emerged from democratic processes. Berlin, too, voiced alarm; Germany’s justice ministry called the visa restrictions “unacceptable” and pledged support to the activists affected.
“The rules by which we want to live in the digital space in Germany and in Europe are not decided in Washington,” the ministry said in a statement that read like a declaration of independence for online governance.
For Washington, the calculus is different. US officials have argued that some elements of the DSA amount to undue restrictions on free expression and place an unfair burden on American companies and citizens. The visa bans, they say, are a response to what they perceive as targeted campaigns to silence dissent or to manipulate platform policies.
What This Means for the Global Conversation on Speech
At stake are deeper questions: who gets to set the rules for a global internet, and how do you reconcile commitments to free expression with the need to prevent harm? These questions are not academic. They matter to journalists threatened by mobs online, to parents worried about radicalization, to platforms deciding what content to moderate, and to citizens wondering whether a handful of companies or a patchwork of national laws will govern the spaces where public life now unfolds.
“This isn’t just a tussle between governments,” observed Dr. Maya Singh, a professor of internet governance. “It’s a contest over models: libertarian, platform‑led moderation versus rules‑based, state‑driven oversight. Both models have trade‑offs.”
- Five Europeans were added to a US visa‑ban list in the latest move.
- The EU’s Digital Services Act applies to platforms with tens of millions of users and aims to limit illegal content online.
- X was fined €120 million by Brussels for failing to comply with content rules.
Where Do We Go From Here?
Expect more fireworks. The visa bans are likely to widen rifts between Washington and like‑minded European capitals already diverging on defence, trade and the approach to authoritarian powers. A recent US National Security Strategy warned Europe of “civilisational erasure” if it did not change course—a phrase that landed like an accusation and has only deepened diplomatic unease.
But there is also an opening: a global conversation about shared norms. Could the US and EU create a common framework for platform accountability that preserves free speech while protecting vulnerable communities? Could multinational forums produce interoperability principles so that users worldwide do not face a fragmented internet? The answers aren’t obvious, and they won’t be quick.
Back at the café, Moreau lowered her voice and posed a question that lingers: “Do you believe an unrestricted internet serves democracy, or do you think democracies should shape the internet in the public interest?”
It is a question that will define politics, tech policy, and everyday life for years to come. For now, five people stand at the eye of a transatlantic storm. Around them, institutions posture. Citizens watch. And the internet—messy, vital and global—waits for rules that match its scale and its risks. What kind of internet do you want? And who should decide?
US and Ukraine unveil 20-point plan to stop Russian invasion
A blueprint on a Kyiv table: hope, scepticism and the heavy arithmetic of peace
It was a pale winter light that fell across the table where President Volodymyr Zelensky outlined what he called a “comprehensive pathway” to end a war that has scarred a generation. Outside, Kiev’s streets hummed with the ordinary — tram bells, a woman sweeping snow from a bakery doorway, a boy with a bright red scarf racing a friend to the metro — and yet inside the room, the map on the wall seemed to hold the world’s attention.
Zelensky did not produce a polished treaty to hand over to waiting cameras. Instead, he spoke in deliberate, granular terms about a 20-point plan crafted with U.S. negotiators and sent to Moscow for reaction. What he offered was as much a political architecture as it was a peace proposal: security guarantees backed by Western powers, rules for the new lines on the ground, sweeping reconstruction promises, and oddly specific governance and cultural commitments. “We put everything on the table,” he told reporters. “This is not the end of bargaining — it is the start of deciding if we can finally stop the killing and start rebuilding lives.”
What’s in the package — the bones of a bargain
At the core are three pillars: security, territory and reconstruction. On security, Zelensky said the United States, NATO and European signatory states would provide guarantees resembling NATO’s Article 5 — a promise that an attack on Ukraine would trigger coordinated military and economic responses. The plan envisions a peacetime Ukrainian armed forces of 800,000 personnel and contingencies to reinstate global sanctions against Russia should it breach the deal.
Territorial arrangements are blunt and pragmatic. The current line of deployment in Donetsk, Luhansk, Zaporizhzhia and Kherson would be recognized as the de facto contact line, with international monitors — including space-based unmanned systems — watching for violations. A working group would map out troop redeployments and consider special economic zones; crucially, Russia would be required to withdraw forces from a list of regions (including Sumy, Kharkiv, Mykolaiv and Dnipropetrovsk) for the agreement to take effect.
Economic rebuilding is perhaps the most unapologetically ambitious effort. Zelensky said the United States and European partners would spearhead a development package, and that an initial capital-and-grants fund would target $200 billion to jump-start reconstruction, attract investment, and fund modernisation in energy, data centres, AI, and civic infrastructure. He spoke of a “Ukraine Development Fund” and a global financial coordinator — a “prosperity administrator” — to marshal international capital and ensure transparent disbursal.
Points likely to draw heat
There are items in the plan that will please some and alarm others. One clause foresees the Zaporizhzhia Nuclear Power Plant being jointly operated by Ukraine, the United States and Russia — an arrangement that, if enacted, would mark an unprecedented multinational stewardship of a nuclear facility in a post-conflict setting. Another surprises by name: Zelensky said the oversight mechanism would be a Peace Council chaired by President Donald Trump, a detail that will provoke immediate geopolitical debate.
Then there are social and legal stipulations: Ukraine would accelerate EU membership within a specified timetable, adopt EU rules guaranteeing religious tolerance and minority-language protections, and commit to remaining a non-nuclear state under the NPT. The plan calls for all remaining prisoners of war to be exchanged, the release of hostages, and an immediate, legally binding ceasefire once all parties agree — but those are promises that have failed before without ironclad enforcement.
Voices from the streets of Kyiv
“I want my son to go back to school without sirens,” said Olena, a kindergarten teacher who helped pour tea in a canteen near Independence Square. Her husband fought in the early months of the war; she watches the news with a habit of flinching. “If guarantees are real and not just words on a page, then we take them. But we have learned to be careful with promises.”
At a corner café, Mikhail, a veteran who lost a leg in 2022, thumbed a scar and said bluntly: “Security guarantees need teeth. Paper won’t stop tanks.” He wants to see international troops on the ground and an unequivocal mechanism that triggers sanctions automatically if the deal is violated.
“Rebuilding will take more than money — it will take trust,” said Dr. Marta Hrytsenko, an urban planner who has been working on postwar reconstruction models. “Estimates from multilateral institutions suggest hundreds of billions will be needed. The World Bank and IMF have said public and private money must combine. The proposal for a $200bn target is a starting signal; implementation will be the real test.”
Levers, red lines and the international stage
Why does the plan matter beyond Kyiv? Because it exposes the central dilemmas of modern peace-making: how to balance sovereignty and security, how to de-escalate without rewarding aggression, and how to finance recovery while keeping corruption at bay. It also shows the limits of diplomacy in a moment when rival great powers still pursue very different objectives.
“We see in this document an attempt to thread the needle between territorial realities on the ground and the political demands of Ukrainian sovereignty and European integration,” said Ilan Berger, a European security expert. “But any agreement depends on trust — and trust is the one currency this war has spent most recklessly.”
What could go wrong — and where the deal might yet be strong
There are several failure points. Moscow’s reaction will be decisive: will it accept the de facto contact lines and the withdrawal demands? Will it agree to an international role at Zaporizhzhia and to a binding non-aggression policy toward Europe? Within Ukraine, calls for justice and criminal accountability for wartime acts could clash with quick-for-peace compromises on territory.
On the flip side, the proposal’s explicit economic levers — investment funds, a transparency framework, and linkage to EU access — could offer a viable pathway to transform the country’s economy. The inclusion of AI, data centres, and energy modernization in the recovery plan points to a future-focused recovery that seeks to make Ukraine a competitive, high-tech economy rather than a basket-case of war ruins.
Questions to sit with
As readers, ask yourselves: can peace be engineered from the outside without the consent of the communities most affected? Is it possible to guarantee security without keeping foreign troops indefinitely, and who will enforce those guarantees if they are breached? How much sovereignty can a nation cede — in the form of international oversight or security assurances — in order to achieve a lasting ceasefire?
These are not hypothetical queries for Ukrainians alone. They touch on global themes: the fragility of international law, the role of alliances in deterring aggression, and the moral calculus of reconstruction. A successful pact here could set precedents for post-conflict reconstruction elsewhere; a failed one would echo as a cautionary tale.
Back in Kyiv, as evening settled and the city lights stitched new constellations onto streets still pocked by war, people returned to their routines. “We are ready to negotiate,” said Olena, the teacher. “But we will not trade our language, our schools, or our children’s future for a piece of paper unless it truly keeps us safe.”
Whether the 20-point plan becomes a live roadmap or another chapter in a painful, interrupted story depends on responses that are not yet public. For now, the document has performed a crucial work: it has given citizens and leaders a concrete frame to argue over — and in politics, articulation can be a precondition to action.
Where do you stand? Would you accept compromises for security now, or hold out for a fuller restoration of territory later? The answers will shape not just Ukraine’s future, but perhaps how the world thinks about peace in an era of uneasy power balances.
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