Bulgaria Moves Toward Euro Adoption Despite Public Doubts

December 29, 2025

Bulgaria adopts euro amid fear and uncertainty — Ancient rock art, a patron saint and a monk will be emblazoned on Bulgaria's euro coins

A Small Country, a Giant Change: Bulgaria on the Cusp of the Euro

The kiosks on Sofia’s boulevard are printing new signs. Butchers who once chalked prices in lev have learned to write two numbers, one beside the other like siblings. In the market stalls of the capital, a grandmother chooses tomatoes and, without missing a beat, counts out coins in her head while a young tourist taps a card and smiles at the contactless reader. The lev — Bulgaria’s companion through decades of transition — is being folded gently into history as Bulgarians prepare to switch to the euro on 1 January.

This is not just a technical switch of banknotes. It’s a civic rite, a political lightning rod and a small-business revolution bundled into one. For a nation of roughly 6.7 million people sitting on Europe’s southeastern edge, the move will make Bulgaria the eurozone’s 21st member and add to a currency used by more than 350 million Europeans.

Why Now? The Rules Behind the Leap

Joining the euro is not an act of whim. It follows a multiyear checklist: tame inflation, keep public finances in order, ensure borrowing costs stay within acceptable bounds and demonstrate exchange-rate stability. Bulgaria cleared those hurdles this year — the technical green lights that many nations spend decades chasing.

There are practical rewards. Companies exporting to the EU can now bill in a single currency. Holidaymakers won’t need to exchange lev for euros at border booths. And Bulgaria steps up from occasional participants in distant Council debates to a permanent presence at the European Central Bank’s Governing Council, where interest-rate choices that ripple across the continent are made.

On the Ground: Markets, Memories and Mistrust

Walk the streets of Sofia and the preparations are visible — dual pricing on windows, supermarkets listing totals in both currencies, government leaflets arriving in mailboxes. Yet this choreography masks a patchwork of sentiments: excitement in the business community, resigned pragmatism among many urban young people, and stubborn scepticism in rural villages and among older generations.

“This lev has a smell I grew up with,” says Emil Ivanov, a retired schoolteacher who still prefers to count his pension in lev when buying banitsa and coffee. “It’s our small piece of independence.”

Others worry about a different kind of loss: potential price rises. It is a familiar refrain wherever countries have adopted a larger currency — the fear that shopkeepers will round up prices during conversion and erode purchasing power. Governments usually answer with legal safeguards: mandatory dual pricing for a transition period, fines for unjustified rounding, public education campaigns. Sofia’s authorities have been running billboards and TV spots urging calm and explaining the fixed conversion rate that will govern every transaction.

Voices from the Vineyards and the Streets

Not everyone shares the scepticism. For exporters and winemakers in Bulgaria’s fertile Thracian Valley, the euro is a long-awaited simplifier.

“For my winery, invoices used to be a small accounting rebellion — convert this sale into euros, then back to lev for domestic reports,” says Natalia Gadjeva, owner of an estate that bottles local Mavrud and Melnik grapes. “With the euro, I save time and avoid conversion fees. That means more money for barrels, marketing and hiring local people.”

Young professionals in co-working spaces speak of travel and mobility. “I get on a plane to Berlin or Athens without changing cash,” says 28-year-old software developer Petar Dimitrov. “It’s practical. It makes working in Europe feel less bureaucratic.”

Political Fault Lines

Yet currency is never only about convenience. It’s also political theatre. Bulgaria’s governments have nudged toward the euro since the country joined the European Union in 2007, but domestic politics complicate the path. This month’s widespread protests against proposed tax hikes and the resultant collapse of the government have reopened questions about trust and democratic legitimacy.

“Monetary integration requires political stability,” says Dr. Ana Marinova, an economist at Sofia University. “If citizens feel disconnected from decision-making, they are more likely to interpret economic changes as elite projects imposed from above.”

There are also historical and geopolitical threads woven into public attitudes. Bulgaria has deep cultural and personal ties with Russia; older generations often remember Soviet-era links. For some, closer alignment with the European monetary system feels like another step away from those memories — a change that carries emotional weight as much as economic rationality.

Practicalities: What to Expect at the Checkout

For many Bulgarians, the transition will be curiously mundane. Expect to see:

Dual prices displayed for a prescribed period so shoppers can compare.
Legal protections against unfair rounding and a government hotline for complaints.
The fixed conversion rate applied to all balances and contracts — a mechanical, predictable switch rather than a market shock.

And yet rituals matter. Old coins will be kept in boxes. Some will tuck the last lev note into a drawer as a talisman. Such small acts are how societies reconcile change with continuity.

Broader Currents: What Bulgaria’s Move Means for Europe

Consider the wider currents. Each new member state reshapes the eurozone’s politics and economics. The ECB’s Governing Council, which sets interest rates affecting mortgages and business loans across the single currency, will now include voices from Bulgaria’s economy and society. That matters: monetary policy must balance the needs of Amsterdam’s tech hubs and Sofia’s small manufacturers.

There are also lessons for other countries considering greater integration versus preserving monetary sovereignty. Does a shared currency deliver growth, stability and convenience? Or does it expose economies to policy mismatches and political backlash? The Bulgarian experience will be watched in capitals from Kyiv to Skopje and beyond.

Questions to Consider

Will the euro make daily life measurably cheaper or simply easier? Can authorities prevent opportunistic price hikes? And perhaps most importantly: will the swap strengthen public confidence in domestic institutions at a time when many Bulgarians feel politically adrift?

Closing Scenes: A Nation Turning a Page

On the night before the change, Sofia’s tramlines hum and the city exhales. An old man counts his coins outside a pastry shop; a student uses a smartphone to check a bank app. Somewhere in the Thracian Valley, a vintner locks up a cellar and thinks about new markets. These small domestic moments will accumulate into history.

Every currency change is a story about trust. Trust in numbers, in government, in rules that will be followed and enforced. As Bulgaria steps across this threshold, millions of small acts — a cashier’s adjustment, a baker’s label change, a minister’s speech — will stitch the past and future together. Whether you are a skeptic or a believer, the scene is worth watching: the world’s patchwork of currencies is not only an economic map, it’s a ledger of identity, allegiance and aspiration.

So, would you keep a last note of a national currency as a souvenir? Or would you embrace the new notes as tools that open borders and markets? The answer you choose tells a story about how you see money’s role in the life of a nation.

China’s armed forces launch live-fire exercises around Taiwan

hanad

December 29, 2025

Chinese military begin live-fire drills around Taiwan — A Taiwan Air Force Mirage 2000 fighter jet takes off after China announced the launch of military drills around Taiwan

Dawn over the Strait: Drums, Missiles and the Everyday Life Between Two Worlds

There is a certain hush that settles over Taipei on mornings like this — not the ordinary quiet that follows predawn traffic, but a taut, electric silence that comes when distant rumble becomes a warning. Coffee shops that usually hum with conversation find patrons speaking in shorter sentences. Ferry schedules are scanned twice. Children at school windows watch the horizon as if it might rearrange itself.

Today that horizon is studded not with clouds but with warships and aircraft. China has launched live-fire military drills around Taiwan — a sprawling exercise the People’s Liberation Army has dubbed “Justice Mission 2025.” The maneuvers employ destroyers, frigates, fighters, bombers and unmanned aerial vehicles, the PLA said, and include live-fire training on maritime targets north and southwest of the island. Taiwan’s coastguard reported four Chinese vessels sailing close to its northern and eastern coasts, prompting immediate deployments and a rapid-response posture from Taipei.

What the exercises look like

The Chinese announcement was blunt and theatrical: multi-domain forces — army, navy, air force and rocket units — will run joint assaults, test blockade scenarios, exercise sea-air patrols and rehearse the seizure of “comprehensive superiority” over key ports and areas. Senior Colonel Shi Yi of the PLA Eastern Theater Command framed the drills as a “stern warning” to what Beijing calls “Taiwan Independence” forces and a necessary act to safeguard China’s sovereignty.

From the Taiwanese side, the response has been equally steely. “We have established a response centre, deployed appropriate forces and carried out rapid response exercises,” a defense ministry statement read. The Presidential Office called China’s actions a “disregard for international norms and the use of military intimidation to threaten neighbouring countries,” a diplomatic rebuke that landed in capitals from Washington to London.

Who’s involved — and what’s at stake

China: multiple naval fleets, air wings, rocket forces — practising blockade, joint strikes and all-dimensional deterrence.
Taiwan: coastguard and military units mobilized to monitor and respond; civilian authorities issuing contingency plans.
Global players: the United States, Taiwan’s principal security backer, whose recent approval of an approximately $11 billion arms package to Taipei preceded the drills; Japan and other regional powers watching nervously.

Why does this matter beyond the headlines? Because the Taiwan Strait is not just a strip of sea but a choke point for global trade, a symbol of national identity, and a living room for millions who sleep within a day’s drive of its shores. The narrowest point of the strait is roughly 130 kilometres (about 80 miles), a reminder that what looks distant on maps is intimate on the ground.

Voices from the island

“When the coastguard called this morning, we thought it was a scare drill,” said Lin Mei-hua, 58, a tea vendor who runs a stall near Keelung Harbor. “But you know, worry is like a kettle that never cools. My regulars are older folks; they ask if the world is changing too quickly to keep up with.”

A young fisherman off Hualien described seeing gray shapes on the horizon. “They’re big ships. We kept our distance — the ocean feels different when tanks are in it. You go out to make a living and suddenly the sea is political,” he said. His hands were rough and steady as he talked; his anxiety was practical: would fishers be prevented from casting nets, would fishing grounds be closed, and how long could families survive on interrupted incomes?

At the Presidential Office, spokeswoman Karen Kuo offered a stark assessment: “These actions further confirm the ruling party in Beijing as the aggressor. They are the greatest destroyer of regional peace.” Her words were measured but firm; they reflected not just alarm but a political calculus aimed at international audiences.

Analysts weigh the wider meaning

“China’s pattern is clear: show military capability, enforce political red lines, and deter external support for the island,” said Dr. Arun Dasgupta, a security analyst at a think tank in Singapore. “But this dynamic has costs. Each show of force raises the risk of miscalculation, and even the most sophisticated command-and-control systems can’t eliminate human error.”

Another expert, retired Admiral Susan Park (name changed for privacy), pointed to the technological mix that the PLA is using. “Unmanned systems add a new layer of complexity. Drones can extend surveillance and strike ranges with lower political cost. But navies still have to manage rules of engagement in congested waters — and that’s where accidents happen.”

History, power and everyday life

The drills are the latest episode in a long, often fraught relationship. China considers Taiwan part of its territory and has never renounced the use of force to bring the island under Beijing’s rule. Taiwan, home to some 23.5 million people, governs itself and has its own democratic institutions. That friction has been magnified in recent years by increased Chinese military activity near the island and by strengthening ties between Taiwan and other democracies.

In April, similar live-fire exercises prompted international criticism. The United States called them “intimidation tactics”; Britain warned of dangerous escalation. This week’s drills came on the heels of an announced U.S. arms package estimated at roughly $11 billion—intended, Washington says, to bolster Taiwan’s self-defense capabilities. Beijing responded with sanctions against U.S. defense firms and stern warnings against “external forces” interfering.

Local color: markets, music and the mood

In Taipei’s Raohe Night Market, the usual soundtrack of sizzling scallion pancakes and hawkers’ banter was underscored by hushed conversations about conscription and emergency kits. A middle-aged man named Chen, who sells handmade umbrellas, shrugged and said, “We make small things here — umbrellas, tea. Big politics sometimes feels like a storm you can’t forecast. We just try to sell enough to sleep well tonight.”

Down in Kaohsiung, the port town where containers move like lifeblood, logistic managers were doing the math. “If a checkpoint is closed, reroutes will cost weeks and millions,” said an operations supervisor. “Global supply chains are tugged by these moments. It’s not just our islands that feel the ripple.”

Questions to sit with

What happens when everyday life is threaded by strategic signaling? How does a family plan a budget when the sea can be closed at a moment’s notice? And for countries far from East Asia, what obligations — moral, economic, strategic — should guide responses to crises that aren’t on their soil but touch their shipping lanes, supply chains, and values?

These are not purely military questions. They are also about diplomacy, about fisheries and tourism, about people’s sense of safety on streets where children once played. They are about a world where regional flashpoints have global aftershocks.

Where this could go

For now, the drills are a show of force and a message. Beijing says any attempts to prevent unification will fail; Taipei says it will defend its sovereignty; Washington and others issue statements of concern. But words only go so far. The real measures of risk are on the water: whether vessels will steer clear of collision, whether radar blips remain blips, and whether diplomacy can cool what saber-rattling has heated.

On the streets, people return to routines with a new awareness. The tea vendor brushes a steam-streaked pot. The fisherman checks his nets. The night market lights blink on as if the day had not been extraordinary. They are living between the headlines, carrying on while history executes its maneuvers.

As you read this, somewhere on the other side of the world someone is watching a feed, weighing sanctions, planning responses. In both places — in living rooms and in war rooms — decisions are being made that will shape lives for years to come. What role should the global community play when an island becomes the stage for powers to rehearse their future?

Zelensky Calls for US–Europe–Ukraine Summit in Coming Days

hanad

December 29, 2025

Zelensky wants US-Europe-Ukraine meeting in coming days — Ukrainian leader Volodymyr Zelensky said the meeting would be 'at the adviser level' (file photo)

A fragile filigree of peace: what the Mar-a-Lago talks mean for Ukraine

Sunlight skimmed across the Atlantic as two leaders — one in a navy suit pressed to perfection, the other in a simple, dark coat that has become global shorthand for wartime leadership — sat under the palms of Mar-a-Lago and spoke about ending Europe’s most brutal war in decades.

It was a scene that felt almost cinematic: flags, cameras, the distant wash of ocean. Yet beyond the choreography lay hard, gritty questions that will decide whose homes stand and whose maps are redrawn. Volodymyr Zelensky told reporters he wants Kyiv to host a follow-up meeting of advisers from Europe and the United States “in the coming days” to craft the legal and security scaffolding of any deal. The American president said the two were “getting a lot closer, maybe very close” to an agreement — but added a sober caveat: Donbas remained a thorny, unresolved issue.

Sunshine, power suits — and the echo of missiles

It’s tempting to let the setting soften the story: an ornate resort, marble halls, and well-timed smiles. But while cameras rolled, Ukraine’s cities were not untouched by war. The weekend before the meeting, Russia launched hundreds of missiles and drones across the country, cutting heat and electricity for thousands in Kyiv and beyond — a stark reminder that talks occur against a background of real suffering and constant risk.

“You can meet in the most beautiful room in the world,” said Olena, who runs a small bakery near Maidan in Kyiv. “But when our ovens are cold, and my customers are lighting candles to eat bread, that beauty means little.”

What was actually on the table?

Leaders described movement on two of the toughest knots: security guarantees and the future of Donbas. Each side used different language. Mr Zelensky spoke of an agreement being reached on security guarantees; the U.S. president was more cautious, saying negotiators were about “95% of the way there.” European leaders, notably France’s president, also signaled progress, with a “Coalition of the Willing” — nations pledging concrete contributions to Ukraine’s defense — expected to meet in Paris in early January to nail down details.

But what does “security guarantees” mean? For Kyiv, it must be more than platitudes — it must translate into credible deterrence against future aggression, economic support and rapid military aid if hostilities recur. For others, it looks like a mix of bilateral treaties, multinational forces, and financial pledges. “Words on paper are not enough,” said Dr. Miriam Alvarez, a security analyst at a Washington think tank. “Ukraine needs mechanisms: who responds, when they respond, and with what force and legal authority.”

The Donbas dilemma

If security guarantees are the scaffolding, the Donbas is the foundation everyone fears might crumble. Russia insists on full control of the Donbas; Kyiv insists on freezing the map at front lines it holds today. The United States, trying to carve a middle path, has floated the idea of a special free economic zone in territory if Ukrainian forces withdraw — an idea heavy with complications about sovereignty, law, and enforcement.

“This is not a chessboard where you can move a pawn and hope everyone applauds,” said Anatoly, a volunteer medic from Kharkiv who lost his brother near Donetsk last year. “People died for every inch. You cannot sell an inch of land like a plot at auction.”

In 2014 Russia annexed Crimea and since the full-scale invasion began in 2022, Russia has taken control of significant areas across eastern and southern Ukraine.
Estimates cited in recent reporting put Russian control at roughly 12% of Ukrainian territory overall, including large portions of the Donbas.

Zaporizhzhia, nuclear fears, and shared control

Even the fate of a single power station became a geopolitical flashpoint. U.S. negotiators proposed shared control over the Zaporizhzhia nuclear plant as part of wider guarantees — a sign of the extraordinary technical and symbolic questions on the table. The International Atomic Energy Agency brokered ceasefires to permit power line repairs and reduce the risk of a catastrophe. “We are working to keep nuclear sites safe — that trumps politics if we are honest,” one IAEA official said on condition of anonymity. “A misstep there would harm everyone.”

Mr Trump said progress is being made and hailed the fact that the plant had not been bombed recently. Moscow, for its part, spoke approvingly of these talks; Kremlin aides praised the U.S. president’s mediation efforts on social media.

Voices of skepticism

Not everyone in Kyiv or in the rooms where decisions will be ratified is convinced. Ivanna Klympush-Tsintsadze, a Ukrainian MP and chair of the committee on EU integration, said she felt no closer to peace after the Florida talks. “The optics were positive,” she told a morning radio show, “but I don’t see the substance that would prevent tanks from rolling again.”

Her worry captures a wider unease: any agreement that looks like territorial concession could fracture Ukrainian society and potentially fail in parliament — or worse, be rejected by the public in a referendum, which President Zelensky says would be required for any deal involving territory.

Beyond two men in a room: international dynamics

The meeting in Florida was both bilateral theater and a wider diplomatic event. European leaders dialed in. The EU’s 60-day ceasefire proposal has been debated across capitals. France promised to host a coalition meeting. The United Kingdom and other NATO members stressed the importance of “ironclad security guarantees,” language meant to reassure Kyiv and domestic audiences alike.

There are also questions about follow-through. Who pays for reconstruction? Who guarantees the guarantees? And what happens if Russia’s advance continues on the battlefield — as Moscow has recently claimed new territorial gains?

What comes next — and why it matters to the world

In the days ahead, Zelensky wants Ukraine to host advisers to formalize the legal texts. That may sound bureaucratic. It is not. That drafting room will be the place where promises harden into commitments — where phrases become enforceable obligations, where timetables are set, and where the rights of millions are either protected or put at risk.

So what should we watch for?

Clarity on what “security guarantees” looks like in practice — troop deployments, rapid response clauses, or financial pledges?
A clear, verifiable plan for Zaporizhzhia and other critical infrastructure that reduces nuclear and civilian risk.
Transparent mechanisms for any changes to front-line maps, including who oversees transitions and how civilians’ rights are protected.

“Peace cannot be a pause that leaves the seeds of future war,” Dr. Alvarez said. “If it is to hold, it must change incentives on the ground.”

For ordinary people in Ukraine, this is not abstract. It is the difference between returning to a damaged home or never returning at all. It is the electricity that keeps a hospital warm, the school that can reopen, the fields that may one day sprout wheat again. For the rest of the world, the stakes are geopolitical: precedent about territorial integrity, nuclear safety, and the rules that govern international conflict.

As the palm trees kept their patient watch in Florida and power grids flickered thousands of kilometres away, one question hung over the proceedings: can stitched-together guarantees and diplomatic good will survive the pressures of the battlefield? If you were in Ukraine, what would you demand from any treaty that claims to be “peace”?

The answers will determine not just when the guns fall silent, but whether, when they do, quiet will mean safety or merely a lull before another storm.

Somalia Slams Israel’s Move to Recognize Somaliland as Independent

hanad

December 29, 2025

Somalia criticises Israeli recognition of Somaliland — Residents of Hargeis waving Somaliland flags gathered to celebrate Israel's announcement

When Diplomacy Becomes a Drumbeat: Somaliland, Israel, and the Unexpected Ripples Across the Red Sea

There are moments when a single diplomatic decision sounds like a pebble dropped into a very large pond — the initial splash is small, but the concentric waves reach distant shores. This week, that pebble was Israel’s formal recognition of Somaliland. For many around the world it was a headline: a tiny, self-declared republic on the southern edge of the Red Sea finally acknowledged by a state long focused on its own fragile neighborhood. For others, it was the opening chord of a new, unsettling symphony in the Horn of Africa.

What Somaliland is — and what it has always wanted

Somaliland separated from Somalia in 1991, following the collapse of the central government in Mogadishu. It built institutions, held elections, and cultivated a sense of national identity. In Hargeisa — its de facto capital — you can still hear the thrum of commerce: donkey carts and tuk-tuks winding past brightly painted tea stalls, markets selling frankincense and textiles, young men checking smartphones between bargaining sessions.

It issues its own passports and currency (the Somaliland shilling), maintains a functioning administration and an army, and controls a stretch of coastline directly opposite Yemen. Estimates of its population vary — most sources put it between three and five million people — and its territory covers roughly 176,000 square kilometers of semi-arid plains and coastal shores. Yet despite these trappings of sovereignty, it has remained diplomatically isolated: neither the United Nations nor the African Union recognizes it as an independent state.

“For ordinary people here, recognition has always been a distant hope — like rain in a long dry season,” says Amina Yusuf, a schoolteacher in Hargeisa. “We have raised our children, built schools, paid taxes. We expected the world to notice someday. Maybe now it has.”

A reaction that echoed through parliaments and capitals

Somalia’s government responded in fury, calling Israel’s move a direct assault on its territorial integrity. In an emergency parliamentary session, President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud told lawmakers the decision threatened regional stability and violated the sovereignty of the Somali Republic.

“This is not only a breach of law, it is an affront to our people,” President Mohamud said. “We will defend our unity and pursue every diplomatic avenue to reverse this action.”

Across the region, the response was swift and severe. The African Union, which has long held a cautious line on breakaway regions to prevent broader instability, voiced alarm. Egypt, Turkey, the six-member Gulf Cooperation Council, and the Saudi-based Organisation of Islamic Cooperation all publicly denounced the recognition. For capitals watching the Horn of Africa closely — Cairo, Ankara, Riyadh — the specter of a new state on the Red Sea’s southern flank is far from merely theoretical.

Behind the headlines: the strategic heartbeat of the Gulf of Aden

To understand why this matters beyond the Horn, imagine the map as a chessboard. The Gulf of Aden and nearby Bab el-Mandeb strait are chokepoints for global trade. Around 12% of global seaborne trade by volume transits the Suez Canal — and the alternative routes and the corridors leading into it are what give ports like Berbera in Somaliland their outsized importance.

Berbera’s deep-water port sits on the Gulf of Aden and has drawn foreign commercial and military interest for years. The United Arab Emirates and DP World have previously invested in port infrastructure there; regional powers have for the past decade quietly maneuvered to secure logistical footholds. Add Israel to the mix, and the calculus shifts: naval access, intelligence cooperation, counter-piracy efforts, and influence over Red Sea shipping lanes suddenly come into play.

“This is not just a story about recognition or borders,” says David Mbeki, a maritime security analyst based in Nairobi. “It’s about access. Whoever has a network of allies and bases along the Red Sea gains leverage over some of the busiest routes on the planet.”

Voices from the street: pride, fear, uncertainty

In Hargeisa, opinions are mixed. For some, recognition is vindication.

“My father fought during the conflict in the 1980s,” says Abdirahman Ali, now a small-business owner. “We were told to wait for justice. Recognition from Israel is another government saying: you exist. That brings hope to families who want normal lives.”

But there is trepidation, too. Many Somalis fear that international moves could inflame tensions at home and in neighboring regions. There is concern about foreign military footprints, and whether new alliances will weave Somaliland into larger geopolitical rivalries that have little to do with local priorities like water, pastoral grazing rights, and economic opportunity.

“We want development, not being a pawn,” says Hodan Warsame, who runs a women’s cooperative sewing garments for export. “Investment is welcome, but who benefits? Will the profits leave, and will our streets become militarized? We have seen outside powers come and go.”

International law and the politics of recognition

The question of recognizing new states is messy and political. International law offers no strict formula: recognition is a political act by existing states. The African Union has historically discouraged unilateral secessions to avoid a proliferation of fragile entities, arguing that the solution to separatist grievances is internal reform rather than redrawing maps.

That principle, however, faces real-world pressures: as climate change, economic desperation, and state weakness create localized governance vacuums, communities sometimes organize themselves into more stable administrative units — as Somaliland did — and demand international legitimacy. Those tensions are playing out now on a very visible stage.

What happens next?

There are several plausible paths forward. Somalia might pursue legal and diplomatic action through international bodies. African states may convene emergency meetings to craft a joint response. Israel could deepen ties with Somaliland — economically, militarily, or diplomatically — further unsettling regional balances.

Local dynamics will matter most. Somaliland’s leaders say they seek recognition to unlock investment and migration agreements; Somali leaders insist the path to any change must be through dialogue with Mogadishu. The balance of power — and the choices made by other regional actors like Ethiopia, Djibouti, and Yemen’s political actors — will be decisive.

Key fact: Somaliland declared independence in 1991 but is not recognized by the UN or African Union.
Key fact: The Gulf of Aden and Bab el-Mandeb are strategic maritime chokepoints for global trade, linking the Indian Ocean to the Mediterranean via the Suez Canal.
Key fact: Somaliland’s population is estimated at roughly 3–5 million people and it controls key ports such as Berbera.

Why you should care

Because this is not local news shrunk to fit a headline — it’s a story that connects questions of self-determination, great-power competition, maritime security, and the livelihoods of everyday people. What happens in the streets of Hargeisa can push oil prices, influence shipping insurance costs, and ripple into the politics of capitals thousands of miles away.

So ask yourself: when a new state is born in the shadow of old conflicts, who gets to decide its fate? Is recognition a tool for justice — or a shortcut that amplifies instability? And perhaps most urgently: how do we ensure that ordinary people, the shopkeepers and teachers and farmers, are not merely chess pieces for larger powers?

For now, Somaliland stands at a crossroads — buoyed by a rare diplomatic victory yet shadowed by the potential for greater friction. The waves from Israel’s decision will keep spreading. What matters next is whether the region can channel those waves into cooperation, negotiation, and real investment in people — or whether they will crash into contestation and conflict instead.

Bulgaria switches to the euro amid public fear and economic uncertainty

hanad

December 29, 2025

On the Brink: Bulgaria’s Leap into the Euro and the Uneasy Calm Along the Danube

There is a quiet energy in the air in Sofia this winter — not the celebratory kind you might expect when a country takes another step deeper into Europe, but something more complicated: a mixture of pride, nerves and a simmering doubt that you can taste in the morning market stalls and hear in the cafes that line Vitosha Boulevard.

Bulgaria is preparing to swap the lev for the euro, joining a monetary club that began in 2002 and has slowly grown to include nations across the continent. If all goes to plan, the country will become the next member of the euro area — a geopolitical and economic milestone many politicians hail as a modernization rite of passage, while others warn it could be a leap into new vulnerabilities.

Why this matters — and why it feels so personal

To understand why this change matters on the ground you need to stand in a village shop in the northwest, or sit in a small Sofia restaurant whose owner balances pride in national heritage against the daily arithmetic of rent and suppliers. “My customers ask me if onions will cost more tomorrow,” says Bilyana Nikolova, who runs a groceries counter in Chuprene, a tiny community near the Serbian border. “They’ve heard stories from friends abroad that prices jump when the euro arrives.”

Her worry is not idiosyncratic. Polls conducted over the past year show substantial ambivalence: nearly half of Bulgarians say they don’t want the euro, according to an EU survey. That reticence grows where incomes are lower and memories of past economic shocks — especially the hyperinflation of the 1990s — remain vivid.

“People remember losing value in their pockets,” explains Boryana Dimitrova of Alpha Research, a polling institute that has followed public sentiment around the changeover. “When a policy affects the everyday — the bread, the bills, the bus ticket — it becomes political overnight. If something goes wrong, opponents will use it as proof that Brussels lost touch.”

Promises on the table

Proponents at home and abroad point to clear advantages. The European Central Bank and international economists argue that single-currency membership can reduce transaction costs, lower borrowing rates, and promote trade. Christine Lagarde, president of the European Central Bank, told Bulgarian audiences in recent months that the gains are “substantial” — smoother commerce, cheaper finance for businesses, and steadier prices among them.

For small and medium-sized enterprises, the arithmetic is stark: analysts estimate up to roughly €500 million saved annually in reduced exchange fees and banking costs. In tourism — a key sector that accounted for about 8% of national output this year — having the euro could make Bulgaria a simpler, less costly destination for millions of European travelers.

“Being inside the decision-making room matters,” says Georgi Angelov, an economist with the Open Society Institute in Sofia. “We have had our currency effectively pegged to the euro for decades through a currency board. Today we trade stability for representation. We will be part of the conversation at the ECB table rather than just following its notes.”

Fear, faith, and politics

The debate is never purely economic. Bulgaria’s politics are fragile; in recent years the country has seen wave after wave of protests against corruption, which toppled a conservative government and pushed the nation toward its eighth election in five years. In such an atmosphere, any economic hiccup could be amplified into a political crisis.

“The adoption will be politicised,” Dimitrova warns. “If prices spike or if there are perceived winners and losers, anti-EU forces will use it as fuel.”

Some of those forces are explicit in their messaging. Far-right and pro-Russia elements have organized ‘save the lev’ campaigns, mobilizing rural communities and older voters with a mix of nostalgia and economic fear. Their rallies often feature local grievances: pensions that feel small, wages that haven’t kept pace with inflation, the sense of being left behind.

“This isn’t only about money,” says Maria K., a teacher from the Rhodope mountains who asked that her surname not be used. “It’s about control. People worry about losing the little autonomy they feel they have after years of foreign influence, sanctions, and distant decisions.”

Numbers that matter

Context helps. Bulgaria has been an EU member since 2007 and joined the ERM II “waiting room” for the euro in 2020. Its lev has been effectively pegged to Western currency standards ever since the chaotic 1990s, when the country’s economy suffered hyperinflation and dramatic currency swings. That experience made fiscal stability a matter of national trauma and policy obsession.

On the inflation front, data show consumers are already squeezed: food prices were up around 5% year-on-year in November, according to the national statistics office — more than twice the eurozone average. That is one reason why the government has created oversight bodies to monitor and limit “unjustified” price hikes during the transition.

Yet history of prior euro entries suggests that any price bump from switching currencies is usually small and short-lived — studies of earlier changeovers have found increases in the range of 0.2 to 0.4 percentage points. The tricky part is perception: for a family buying milk and bread every week, even a tiny percentage feels large.

Coins as culture: Bulgaria’s new small-money portraits

There is poetry in the detail. The images chosen for Bulgaria’s euro coins are a deliberate act of storytelling: the Madara Rider — an eighth-century cliff relief of a horseman triumphing over a lion — will appear on the smaller cent denominations, while the €1 and €2 coins will bear the figures of Saint John of Rila and Paisius of Hilendar, respectively. The edge of one coin carries the inscription “God protect Bulgaria.”

“There is comfort in symbols,” says Dr. Elena Popova, an art historian who works with cultural heritage projects. “When your money carries your myths, you feel continuity. The choice of iconography is an embrace: the state says, we join Europe, but we bring our story with us.”

What’s at stake for the world

Bulgaria’s move is a small story with big echoes. Across Europe, the eurozone’s gradual expansion raises questions about monetary sovereignty, regional inequality, and the political cohesion of the bloc. For the Balkans, membership signals deeper Western alignment, a message particularly resonant given the region’s historic tug-of-war between Brussels and Moscow.

Will joining the euro steady Bulgaria’s economy and curb Russian economic pressure? Can Brussels and Sofia safeguard vulnerable households during the conversion? Will a country still wrestling with corruption win the political stability it needs to reap long-term benefits?

These questions are not unique to Bulgaria. They resonate in Madrid and Malta, Tallinn and Zagreb—everywhere a currency ties people together while asking them to share the risks and rewards.

Final thoughts

On market day, the vendor next to Bilyana sells fresh peppers and jars of homemade lyutenitsa. He motions toward a little boy counting coins into his pocket and says, half-jokingly, “Let him save in euros — maybe he will dream bigger.”

Perhaps that is the simplest way to think of this moment: a bet on the future, balanced on the everyday ledger of a nation still finding its footing. Will the euro lift Bulgaria’s long-term prospects? Or will the transition become another chapter in a story of political churn and economic anxiety? Only time will tell, but the people of Bulgaria will feel the consequences in their shopping baskets, their travel plans, and the stories they tell their children.

What would you choose if it were your currency on the line — stability and shared rules, or the comfort of something known and local? The answer may reveal more about how we measure progress than any headline ever could.

Estimated tourism share of GDP: ~8%
Reported food price inflation (Nov): ~5% year-on-year
Estimated SME savings from euro adoption: ~€500 million annually in reduced exchange costs
Public sentiment (EU poll): roughly 49% opposed

Peace Within Reach, but Donbas Remains a Sticking Point

hanad

December 29, 2025

Peace 'close' but Donbas remains a key unresolved issue — Mr Zelenskiy and Mr Trump spoke at ⁠a joint news conference after meeting at Mr Trump's Mar-a-Lago resort in Florida.

A Mar-a-Lago Sunset and the Unfinished Business of War

On a warm Florida afternoon that tasted of salt and citrus, two presidents sat not in a formal palace but at the baroque edge of Mar-a-Lago, inches from a seaside that has seen far gentler disputes than the one that has torn through eastern Europe. The scene felt cinematic: palms leaning like question marks, gold light sliding across marble, and behind the carefully staged smiles, the hum of unfinished negotiations.

“We’re getting a lot closer, maybe very close,” President Donald Trump told reporters, his voice carrying that mixture of triumph and caution familiar to those who have watched him negotiate. Beside him, President Volodymyr Zelenskiy — still the wartime leader who has become a global symbol of resistance — nodded as if measuring each syllable for the weight it would carry back to Kyiv.

This was not the sort of summit that ends wars. It was, rather, the sort of summit that keeps faith with the most fragile of possibilities: that between hard, painful lines on a map lies a bargain people can live with. And it exposed, cruelly and clearly, the two stubborn truths of the moment — that security guarantees and the fate of the Donbas remain the twin axes around which any settlement must turn.

An Unlikely Table: What Was Said — and What Was Not

Details were scarce. For all the flash of cameras and the choreography of official statements, both leaders offered more of a draft than a contract. Zelenskiy declared that “an agreement on security guarantees has been reached,” a line that will be parsed for weeks by diplomats and deputies, while Trump tempered the mood: he said they were “95% of the way” there and predicted European partners would shoulder much of the postwar security burden.

French President Emmanuel Macron — who joined parts of the meeting remotely — hinted at concrete follow-ups, announcing on social media that a “Coalition of the Willing” would meet in Paris in early January to finalize their contributions. “Europe is ready,” wrote Ursula von der Leyen, echoing a refrain that has been repeated across capitals: security guarantees must be “ironclad.”

“We had frank conversations about what it will take for Ukraine not merely to survive but to be secure,” Zelenskiy told aides after the meeting. “Any deal will be subject to our parliament, perhaps to a referendum. That is not negotiable.” His emphasis on domestic consent reflects an acute sensitivity: peace imposed from above would not satisfy a nation that has bled to stay sovereign.

The Donbas Dilemma: Territory, Identity, and a ‘Tough Issue’

If security guarantees are the scaffolding for peace, the Donbas is the stubborn foundation that refuses to shift. Moscow demands the entire Donbas, Kyiv asks that the front line be frozen where troops currently stand, and middle-ground proposals — including a U.S. concept for a free economic zone if Ukraine withdraws — remain deeply problematic and vague.

“It’s unresolved, but it’s getting a lot closer,” Trump said, adding, “that’s a very tough issue.” He acknowledged “a few thorny issues” around territory that must be resolved before signatures are inked. Zelenskiy’s position is politically fraught: to concede land would be to affront many Ukrainians who view territorial integrity as non-negotiable.

A senior Ukrainian lawmaker, speaking on condition of anonymity, described the conversations as “intense and, at times, painfully practical.” “No one here wants to trade citizens for short-term peace,” she said. “We need guarantees that will not evaporate the moment a crisis is forgotten.”

What the Numbers Say

Territorial claims remain contested, and even reported figures can be political. Russian estimates — cited by officials at the meeting — suggest Moscow controls around 12% of Ukrainian territory, including most of the Donbas and large parts of Zaporizhzhia and Kherson. Whether those numbers reflect battlefield reality or negotiating postures matters less than the human cost: millions displaced, towns shredded, and an economy reeling.

Zaporizhzhia: Nuclear and Negotiation Hotspots

One subject that stopped the small-talk was the Zaporizhzhia nuclear plant, Europe’s largest. The International Atomic Energy Agency has brokered local ceasefires and overseen power line repairs, but the plant remains a tinderbox in international eyes. U.S. negotiators floated the idea of shared control — an arrangement meant to reduce the risk of a catastrophic accident while also keeping the facility functioning for civilian needs.

“We have to treat Zaporizhzhia as more than a bargaining chip,” said Dr. Elena Markov, a Kyiv-based nuclear safety expert. “Stability there is a public good, not a point to trade for short-term territorial gains.” Her blunt assessment underscored the global stakes: a mishap would be felt not only across Ukraine but across the continent.

Echoes of War While Negotiations Unfold

The talks in Florida unfolded against the dissonant backdrop of more missiles and drones. The day before Zelenskiy’s arrival, Russian strikes knocked out power and heat in parts of Kyiv, a reminder that ceasefires can be fragile and that military pressure often increases when diplomacy appears to gain traction.

“It felt cruelly timed,” said Olena, a schoolteacher in Kyiv, who watched news of the Mar-a-Lago meeting between candlelit stove-top kettles and generator-powered lamps. “You hear ‘progress’ and then the sky lights up. How are we supposed to believe in ‘getting closer’ while houses burn?”

For his part, Trump reported a lengthy phone call with Vladimir Putin before Zelenskiy’s arrival, calling the talk “productive” and saying Putin pledged to help with reconstruction and energy supplies should a deal be struck. Moscow’s side described the call in warmer tones, suggesting Russia appreciated U.S. mediation efforts.

Voices from the Ground

Back in Palm Beach, a local hotelier watched the procession of limousines and diplomats with bemused curiosity. “This is a place of deals — sometimes big, sometimes small,” he said, wiping his hands on a towel. “But even here you can feel the absurdity: peace talks with missiles still flying half a world away.”

A Ukrainian veteran in Kyiv sent a voice note through a mutual contact: “We want peace. We want to wake up without sirens. But peace without dignity is surrender. Don’t mistake our fatigue for readiness to give up.” His short sentence captured the tension that diplomats must translate into clauses and guarantees.

So, What Comes Next?

Both presidents spoke of a timeline measured in weeks rather than years. Trump said it will be “clear in a few weeks” whether the negotiations will succeed. Macron’s Paris meeting in early January, along with other European consultations, will shape the architecture of any security guarantees — who contributes troops, funds, training, or emergency response — and how they will be enforced.

Important questions remain: Who watches the watchers? How binding are these guarantees? And how will the voices of ordinary Ukrainians be heard in corridors of power from Florida to Paris to Kyiv?

Perhaps the most urgent question is moral: can the international community build a peace that is not only durable but also just? Can a nation be asked to accept borders that feel imposed rather than chosen? These are not abstract dilemmas; they are decisions that will determine whether a generation rebuilds with dignity or with resentment.

Beyond Florida: The Global Stakes

What happened at Mar-a-Lago was never going to be the final act. It was, instead, another scene in a long drama that has tested alliances, reconfigured geopolitics, and forced ordinary people to imagine futures they did not choose. The stakes extend far beyond Ukraine: credibility of institutions, the precedent for resolving territorial conflict, and the moral calculus of postwar reconstruction are all on the table.

As you read this, ask yourself: what would you accept to stop a war? What would you refuse? And who, in the end, should get to decide? The answers will shape not only maps, but the lives of millions who just want to live without the sound of sirens.

Key threads to watch: security guarantees, the Donbas settlement, the role of the “Coalition of the Willing,” Zaporizhzhia’s status, and European follow-up meetings in early January.
Human reality: displacement, power blackouts, and still-unsettled political processes in Kyiv that require parliamentary or popular approval for any deal.

The Mar-a-Lago meeting opened a door, just a crack. Whether that crack will widen into a corridor to lasting peace — or slam shut under the pressure of missiles and mistrust — depends on choices to be made in the weeks ahead. For now, both hope and skepticism walk the same thin line beneath the Florida sun.

Trump says Zelensky and Putin are both serious about peace talks

hanad

December 28, 2025

Trump says both Zelensky, Putin 'serious' on peace

When Words Walk the Tightrope: Trump’s Claim That Putin and Zelensky Are “Serious” on Peace

There is something uncanny about the sound of a peace plan emerging — not from diplomats’ quiet rooms but from the mouth of a former U.S. president speaking to a packed crowd. “Both Zelensky and Putin are serious on peace,” he said. The line landed like an unexpected chord in a song everyone thought they already knew: a note that seems to promise conclusion, but leaves the melody unresolved.

Walk the streets of Kyiv today and you encounter a city living in two times at once: the present urgency of daily life and a future that refuses to be taken for granted. In a small café just off Maidan Nezalezhnosti, steam from espresso cups fogs the window as patrons glance at their phones. “We’ve learned to measure every statement in action,” said Oleksandra, a teacher who fled fighting in eastern Ukraine and returned last year. “A promise without security is just a lullaby.”

What Was Said — and Why It Matters

The remark that both leaders are “serious” on peace has rippled through capitals and kitchen tables alike. On the surface, it’s a generous appraisal. If true, it would mean something seismic: that two figures at opposite ends of a bloody conflict — Volodymyr Zelensky, the Ukrainian president who rallied a nation under bombardment, and Vladimir Putin, the Russian president who ordered the full-scale invasion in 2022 — have shifted toward negotiation rather than escalation.

But words are only the opening salvo. “You can say ‘serious’ and still be thousands of miles apart on the terms,” said Dr. Elena Markov, a political scientist at the Kyiv School of Public Policy. “The devil, as ever, is in the guarantees, verification, and sequencing.”

Numbers That Ground the Conversation

What gives weight to the stakes are not only the leaders’ statements but the scale of human cost. Since the full-scale invasion in February 2022, millions have been uprooted: families scattered across Europe, whole towns reduced to rubble, lives paused and restarted in other cities or countries. Humanitarian agencies have documented widespread civilian casualties and infrastructure damage on a scale that will take years — perhaps decades — to repair.

International support has not been trivial. Western countries have provided equipment, training, and humanitarian aid totaling tens of billions of dollars, and Ukraine’s economy has been propped up by loans and grants even as its industrial base was battered. Yet even generous assistance cannot buy trust or rewrite the calculus of security that keeps negotiators awake at night.

Voices From the Ground: Skepticism, Hope, and Weariness

“If there’s peace tomorrow, I’ll celebrate like everyone else,” said Mykola, a 52-year-old bus driver from Kherson. “But I’ve seen too many ceasefires that held only in name. My neighbor lost his home in 2022, and no ‘peace’ can return what was taken.”

Others hear the words and allow themselves a small breath. “We need any opening that can stop the artillery and the children’s hospitals being evacuated,” said Anna, a mother of two who volunteers with a relief organization. “But we also know peace that leaves war criminals untouched only stores the next tragedy.”

In Moscow, reactions were predictably varied. Some commentators framed the comment as a diplomatic olive branch, while hardliners dismissed it as noise. Analysts point out the domestic political calculus in Russia that makes any offer palatable to Western audiences hard to sell at home.

Experts Weigh the Odds

“This moment should be read as an opportunity, not a guarantee,” said Michael Harrow, a conflict resolution specialist who has mediated peace talks in the Balkans and the Caucasus. “Negotiations succeed when there’s leverage, credible guarantees, and international monitoring. Absent those, we’re back to bargaining over casualties.”

Harrow notes that peace processes require sequencing — ceasefire first, withdrawal second, then a roadmap for security, reparations, and political settlement. “Rushing to sign a paper for the optics of peace can leave unresolved grievances that fester.”

What Would a “Serious” Peace Look Like?

Imagining a realistic blueprint means confronting uncomfortable trade-offs. For Ukraine, territorial integrity is non-negotiable for many. For Russia, the political face-saving measures it may demand can be existential. International law, accountability for alleged war crimes, and the role of NATO or other security guarantees add layers of complexity.

Any viable plan would likely include:

Ceasefire mechanisms monitored by impartial international observers.
Gradual and verifiable withdraw of forces, with phased security arrangements.
Humanitarian corridors and a plan for reconstruction funding tied to benchmarks.
Transitional justice measures to address alleged violations without derailing negotiations.

Each point is simple on paper, fiendishly hard in practice.

The Political Theater — and the Human Cost

Politics plays like theater on this stage. Domestic audiences in both countries will judge leaders less on diplomacy and more on perceived strength or betrayal. “Elected leaders must translate peace into something their citizens understand and trust,” said Dr. Kovacs, a European security analyst based in Budapest. “That means sliding past slogans to deliver secure borders and safety for families.”

For people on the ground, the arithmetic is intimate. A grandmother in Odesa counts the days until she can sleep without hearing rockets in the distance. A young man rebuilding a bakery in Chernihiv worries about where the grain will come from next year. These are the small ledger entries that any peace plan must account for if it’s to be more than paper and promises.

Questions That Remain — For Leaders and for Us

So what should we watch for in the coming weeks?

Concrete steps: Are there back-channel talks? Are neutral parties like the UN or another state being invited to verify progress?
Timing and sequencing: Is a ceasefire being negotiated first, or are parties skating straight to political declarations?
International buy-in: Are major powers prepared to offer security guarantees and reconstruction aid linked to milestones?

And for the reader: what does peace mean to you? Is it an immediate end to gunfire, or a long project of justice and rebuilding? How much compromise between justice and stability is acceptable in the name of stopping more bloodshed?

Conclusion: Hope, But Vigilant

There is power in the notion that leaders could be ready to talk. Yet hope must be vigilant. For Ukrainians returning to neighborhoods scarred by shelling, for refugees arranging lives in distant cities, and for soldiers who have seen friends fall, talk of peace without the architecture to sustain it feels like a fragile thing.

“We want leaders to be brave enough to secure peace, and honest enough to share the price,” Oleksandra said, stirring her coffee. “Courage is not only leading to a table. It’s staying there and doing the hard work.”

In the end, a single sentence — “they are serious” — cannot remake what years of conflict have unmade. But if those words lead to concrete steps, verified actions, and the hard work of reconciliation, perhaps then they will have meant more than rhetoric. Until then, the world watches, waits, and wonders whether this chord is the prelude to the final movement, or simply another refrain in a long, sorrowful song.

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