Graham Linehan Exonerated Over Harassment Claim by Transgender Activist

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November 26, 2025

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

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

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

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

A small object, a large question

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

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

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

The human backdrop

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

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

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

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

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

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

Timeline of the case

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

Why this matters beyond the headlines

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

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

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

Local color and context

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

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

Questions to carry forward

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

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

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

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

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

By

hanad

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November 26, 2025

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

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

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

The Numbers That Refuse to Be Ignored

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

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

Close Doesn’t Mean Safe

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

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

Technology: Amplifying Old Harm in New Ways

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

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

Why the Numbers Aren’t the Whole Story

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

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

Voices from the Ground

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

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

What Experts Say

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

A Global Challenge, A Shared Responsibility

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

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

What Can You Do?

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

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

Closing: The Quiet Work of Bearing Witness

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

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

Italy Criminalizes Femicide as Distinct Crime, Establishes Life Imprisonment Penalty

By

hanad

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November 26, 2025

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

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

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

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

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

What the new law does — and why it matters

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

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

Numbers that push a country to action

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

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

Voices from the streets and the courtrooms

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

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

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

Questions that remain

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

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

Local color: how culture and conversation are shifting

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

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

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

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

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

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

Looking outward: the significance beyond Italy

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

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

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

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

Italy to Classify Femicide as Specific Crime, Impose Life Sentences

By

hanad

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November 26, 2025

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

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

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

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

From Aggravation to Autonomy: Why the Change Matters

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

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

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

Numbers That Refuse to Be Ignored

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

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

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

Voices from the Streets: Protesters, Experts and a Survivor

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Questions to Leave You With

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

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

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

121 maxbuus oo laga sii daayay xabsiyada dowlad deegaanka Soomaalida

By

aden

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November 26, 2025

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

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Trump pushes back Ukraine deal deadline; envoy to meet Putin

By

hanad

-

November 26, 2025

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

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

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

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

The Players and the Puzzle

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

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

Where talks stand

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

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

Negotiation by Telephone — and the Muddled Messaging

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

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

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

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

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

What’s actually on the table?

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

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

Stakeholders and Stakes

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

Voices From All Sides

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

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

Why This Matters Beyond Borders

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

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

What Comes Next?

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

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

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

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

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

By

aden

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November 26, 2025

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

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HP plans thousands of layoffs as AI automation reshapes employee roles

By

hanad

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November 26, 2025

HP to cut thousands of jobs due to AI adoption — HP said its AI plan aims to generate approximately $1 billion (€864.2m) in annual savings by the end of fiscal 2028 (file image)

When the Hum of Printers Clears: HP’s AI Pivot and the Human Cost

Walk past HP’s gates in Palo Alto on any weekday and you’ll hear the quiet rhythms of a company that built its name on the low, comforting roar of printers and the steady clack of keyboards. For decades that hum felt reliable — an emblem of middle-class stability and American tech craftsmanship. This week, that sound has a different timbre: a distant echo behind boardroom charts and an announcement that will reshape thousands of lives.

HP Inc. has unveiled a sweeping restructuring plan that will cut roughly one in ten jobs worldwide — between 4,000 and 6,000 positions, the company says — as it repositions itself for an era dominated by artificial intelligence. The aim is stark and blunt: use AI to innovate faster, lift customer satisfaction, and trim costs to the tune of about $1 billion a year by the end of fiscal 2028.

Numbers, Reports, and the Quiet of the Office

In its latest quarterly earnings, HP reported a profit of $795 million, down from $906 million a year earlier, while revenue edged up 4.2% to $14.64 billion — a sign that demand for PCs still steadied the quarter as printer sales softened.

“We’re not cutting for cutting’s sake,” an HP spokesperson said in a prepared statement. “This is a strategic pivot. We must invest in compute, partner with new suppliers, and adapt our pricing to support AI capabilities.” The company’s CEO, Enrique Lores, has signaled that price adjustments on computers and new supplier relationships are part of the plan.

Still, for many workers the announcement lands like a sudden silence where there once was noise. “I’ve worked in the printing division for 12 years,” said a production supervisor who asked not to be named. “You grow used to being the backbone of things. Now it feels like you can be replaced by a line of code. That’s hard to swallow.”

Not an Isolated Story: A Tech Industry Pattern

HP’s move is far from unique. Over the past few years, giants across Silicon Valley have been recalibrating their headcounts and priorities. Google, Microsoft, and Amazon, among others, have announced workforce reductions or redirected resources toward AI research and product development. The trend reveals a conflict playing out across the tech landscape: rapid advances in AI promise productivity and new markets, but they also threaten roles long considered indispensable.

Analysts point to certain categories of roles as particularly vulnerable: customer support, content moderation, data entry, and even some types of programming work. “AI is changing the shape of work,” said Dr. Laila Mendes, a labor economist at the University of California. “But the pace is uneven. Companies chase efficiency gains quickly, while the social infrastructure to retrain and redeploy displaced workers lags behind.”

Who Wins, Who Loses

Corporate balance sheets and investor expectations often reward bold pivots. HP’s projection of $1 billion in annual savings by 2028 is not just a fiscal target — it’s a promise to Wall Street that the company will stay competitive in an era where compute-intensive AI features will be a differentiator. But those fiscal gains come at a human price.

For every engineer reassigned to an AI initiative, there may be two customer service agents whose work is automated. “We built careers around troubleshooting and supporting customers,” said Mei Tan, a former HP customer support specialist who was laid off in a similar round of cuts two years ago at another firm. “AI can be helpful, but it lacks the empathy of a person who’s seen the same problem a hundred times and knows how to soothe a worried customer.”

Beyond the Layoffs: Local Color and Quiet Lives

In the neighborhoods around HP’s campus, the company’s role is visible but understated: a preferred coffee shop that once buzzed with developers’ meetups now has tables of quieter faces, the lunchtime crowds thinner. A barista in Palo Alto named Carlos reflects what many local service workers feel. “When the tech company makes a big move, we notice it in tips. When people are uncertain, they spend less on small things,” he said. “It ripples.”

Across the world, the cuts will carry different meanings. In cities where wages are higher, layoffs can mean months of savings evaporated; in regions where HP employs parts of its supply chain, thousands of families may lose not just income but social connections built around factory and office life. These are not abstract statistics — they’re Saturday soccer games missed, rent conversations, and plans postponed.

Retraining, Uncertainty, and the Bigger Picture

Companies often promise retraining programs and severance, and HP says it will support affected employees through transitions. But the effectiveness of those measures varies widely. “Up-skilling programs exist,” said Dr. Mendes, “but they must be matched by real hiring commitments in the new roles being created. Otherwise, we’re asking people to learn skills without guarantees of work.”

There’s also a philosophical question at stake. Do we want corporate AI strategies driven primarily by short-term cost savings, or should there be a broader social compact that balances technological progress with worker security? Some cities and countries are experimenting with policies — from wage insurance to stronger retraining incentives — but nothing yet amounts to a global standard.

What can be done?

Stronger partnerships between companies and community colleges to align curricula with emerging AI job needs.
Public incentives for firms that prioritize internal redeployment over external hiring.
Expanded safety nets for displaced workers to reduce the immediate financial shock.

Looking Forward: A Landscape Rebuilt

HP’s decision will accelerate its move into AI-enabled devices and services, and it may well deliver the promised efficiencies. The question for readers — for all of us — is how to steward progress so it lifts more than just the headline numbers. Can companies, governments, and communities build bridges for the workers who find themselves on the far side of automation?

“Change is inevitable,” said a mid-level manager at an HP research facility who requested anonymity. “But it can be humane or it can be cold. The difference is in how you treat people during the transition.”

As the whir of printers gives way to the hum of GPUs, the world watches to see whether HP’s gamble will create a new chapter of innovation — and whether that chapter will leave the old protagonists behind. What kind of future do we want machines to build? And what responsibility do we have, collectively, to those who have powered the present?

Whatever the answers, one thing is clear: this is more than a corporate memo. It’s a cultural moment. It asks us to think about labor, dignity, and the rhythms of daily life in an economy where the next big idea can arrive as a line of code. Will we meet that moment with policies, empathy, and foresight — or will we simply let the hum fade away?

Bolsonaro loses final appeals and is set to begin 27-year prison term

By

hanad

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November 26, 2025

Brazil ex-leader Bolsonaro appeals prison sentence — Former Brazilian president Jair Bolsonaro had been disqualified from seeking public office until 2030 over his unproven fraud allegations against the country's voting system

The Last Appeal: Inside the Moment Brazil’s Most Polarising Leader Finally Lost His Legal Lifeline

On a humid morning in Brasília, amid the city’s brutalist sweep of concrete and white marble, the drama of modern Brazil condensed into one small, metallic object: an ankle monitor, scorched and bent, its strap nicked and stitched into a story of hubris, fear and, for many, a long-awaited moment of accountability.

At 70, Jair Bolsonaro — the former army captain who electrified Brazil’s right wing and governed with the swagger of a mobilised base — has seen the last of his appeals crumble. The Supreme Federal Court declared his 27-year sentence for plotting to block the transfer of power after the 2022 election final, elbowing aside the legal maneuvers that had kept him out of a cell.

It is a verdict that reads like a punctuation mark on the turbulent arc of Brazil’s politics: from the roar of campaign crowds to whispered plans that a court has deemed criminal. “There are very serious indications of a possible attempt to flee,” Supreme Court Justice Alexandre de Moraes said, a line that reverberated in courtrooms and on street corners alike.

A soldering iron, an ankle monitor, and two versions of the same night

Officials say Bolsonaro tampered with the monitor that had confined him to house arrest. Video released by the court shows him handling a soldering iron. In some accounts he calls it curiosity. In a written statement obtained by AFP, he said he “experienced a certain paranoia between Friday and Saturday due to medication” and denied any intent to flee. His lawyers, meanwhile, had been pressing for permission for him to finish his sentence at home on health grounds.

For the Supreme Court, the proximity of the U.S. embassy in Brasília — and Bolsonaro’s well-documented rapport with former U.S. President Donald Trump — fed a plausible scenario: a vigil at the home organised by his son, Senator Flávio Bolsonaro, could have been a cover for an escape plan. “The geometry of the capital, its embassies and the networks that orbit around certain political actors created a credible risk,” a legal analyst in São Paulo told me. “That is not conjecture; it’s what the court had to weigh.”

Voices on the street: reverence, rage and weary pragmatism

In Brasilia’s Esplanada dos Ministérios, vendors sold pastel and cold beer beneath fluttering flags. A group of Bolsonaro supporters, wrapped in green-and-yellow banners, shouted that their leader had been betrayed by political elites. “They’re persecuting the man who kept our values,” said Ana Paula, a 48-year-old nurse, her voice hoarse. “We won’t forget this.”

On the opposite side of town, near a small cafe crowded with Lula supporters — many of them older, with shirts bearing the face of Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva — the mood was almost disbelief that the day had arrived. “Justice, finally,” said Marco, a retired teacher who voted for Lula in 2022. “It’s a victory for institutions. Now we must rebuild trust.”

Flávio Bolsonaro left the Federal Police headquarters flanked by lawyers and aides. He told reporters, “This is political revenge,” and vowed to keep fighting for his father. The image of the senator stepping into the late morning light felt emblematic: a family entrenched in a drama that has transfixed Brazil.

Why this matters beyond one man

Brazil is not just reckoning with Jair Bolsonaro as an individual; it’s confronting the broader question of how democracies hold leaders to account. Populist figures across the globe have tested institutions and norms, and Brazil’s Supreme Court, with this ruling, has chosen to assert its authority decisively.

Context matters: the runoff election of October 2022 was razor-thin — Lula won with roughly 50.9% of the vote to Bolsonaro’s 49.1% — a split that has left half the country feeling vindicated and the other half aggrieved. The scars of that election are not easy to stitch closed. What the court did this week was legal finality; but in a polity as divided as Brazil’s, legal outcomes are also political events.

Bolsonaro’s sentence: 27 years for his role in a plot to prevent Lula’s inauguration, including allegations linked to an assassination plot.
Where it stands: The Supreme Court rejected further appeals and declared the sentence final.
Recent events: Bolsonaro was under house arrest until his detention at police headquarters, triggered by tampering with his ankle monitor.

The small things that reveal the larger picture

If you want to understand a country, watch its rituals. In Brazil, politics is often a family affair, a televised spectacle and a backyard grill. The Bolsonaro saga has played out across all these stages: candid moments in social media videos, official hearings in austere courtrooms, and feverish vigils on front lawns.

The ankle monitor — banal technology meant to limit movement — became a symbol. It represented both the reach of the law and the degree to which the former president remained a person of public interest. Whether it was curiosity, medication-induced paranoia, or an ill-conceived plan to escape, the act of tampering erased any semblance of passive compliance and gave the court grounds to act.

What experts are saying

“This is a landmark for judicial independence in Latin America,” offered Renata Campos, a professor of constitutional law in Rio de Janeiro. “Still, the legitimacy of such decisions depends on transparency and on ensuring the accused get a fair process. That balance is fragile.”

Global watchers worry about precedent. When courts take muscular positions against powerful political figures, they can strengthen democracy — or inflame supporters who see those rulings as partisan. “The measure of a democracy is how it treats the powerful,” said an international human-rights scholar. “But the aftermath must be managed with care.”

So what happens now?

There are practical questions: will Bolsonaro serve his sentence in a high-security prison? Will his gang of loyalists mount protests or try to delegitimise courts? How will Brazil, a nation of roughly 214 million people, reconcile the fractures exposed in the past three years?

There are also longer arcs to consider: how will this shape the future of political accountability across Latin America? Will opposition movements see this as a triumph of checks and balances, or as a warning about the weaponisation of courts?

As you read this from wherever you are — in a city that prizes the rule of law or in a place where democracy itself feels precarious — consider this: What does accountability look like in your country? Is it consistent, fair and impartial, or is it a blunt instrument used to topple rivals?

Brazil’s story is not finished. It rarely is. But for now, the image of an ex-president with a damaged ankle monitor, escorted into custody beneath Brasília’s hard sky, will remain a vivid symbol — a reminder that even the most combustible political figures are subject to the slow, messy work of institutions.

And amid the chants, the legal filings and the social media storms, ordinary Brazilians carry on: selling snacks by the ministries, watching the news, arguing over coffee, and wondering what comes next for their nation. Whatever your view of Jair Bolsonaro, the country’s choice — to lean on courts or to bend them — will echo long after the cameras have left the square.

France detains two men and two women over Louvre art heist

By

hanad

-

November 26, 2025

France arrests two men, two women over Louvre robbery — A four-person gang raided the Louvre in October and stole jewellery worth an estimated €88m

A Ladder, Seven Minutes, and a City Holding Its Breath: Inside the Louvre Jewel Heist

It was the kind of theft that reads like a movie script — a moving truck, an extendable ladder, a basket lift, and four people who vanished into Parisian traffic on scooters, leaving a trail of disbelief in their wake.

On a crisp autumn day in mid-October, the Apollo Gallery — a gilded room that has watched emperors, restorations and millions of visitors pass beneath its painted ceiling — was breached. In roughly seven minutes, a handful of objects that carry centuries of history and national symbolism were gone. The estimated value? About €88 million. The impact? Priceless in terms of cultural shock.

New Arrests, New Questions

French authorities announced another twist in the investigation this month: four additional arrests. “They are two men aged 38 and 39, and two women aged 31 and 40, all from the Paris region,” said Paris prosecutor Laure Beccuau, confirming the latest detentions. Earlier, four others — three men and a woman — had already been charged over the brazen daylight raid.

Bits of forensic evidence are threading the narrative together. DNA from the basket lift used during the assault pointed investigators to one couple; the man had an 11-count criminal record, largely for theft. The first two suspects arrested were already known to police and lived in Aubervilliers, a gritty northeastern suburb where the line between survival and crime is often thin.

“We have leads, but we do not have the jewels,” an investigator told me off the record. “People assume arrests equal recovery. That rarely holds true in thefts of this scale.”

The Stolen Treasures and Their Echoes

The thieves left behind one dramatic clue: while escaping, they dropped a diamond- and emerald-studded crown that once belonged to Empress Eugénie, consort to Napoleon III. But eight other pieces — among them an emerald-and-diamond necklace once given by Napoleon I to Empress Marie-Louise — remain unaccounted for.

These are not mere baubles. They are relics of France’s layered history — revolutionary ruptures, imperial pomp, personal stories turned into public memory. When such objects are stolen, what disappears is more than metal and stone; a thread in a nation’s storytelling is cut.

“You feel it in your gut,” said Hélène Martin, who runs a small bookshop two blocks from the Louvre. “They aren’t only jewels. They are the moments of our past we show our children when we teach them about France. This theft bruises a piece of that lesson.”

The Vanishing Market

The black market for high-value cultural items remains labyrinthine. Even when items are stolen in daylight amid thousands of tourists, the route from theft to resale is obscured by fences, middlemen and corruptible pipelines reaching across borders. Recoveries in cases like this can take years, if they happen at all.

Security Under Scrutiny

The heist exposed not just the audacity of the thieves but uncomfortable truths about vulnerability. France’s highest audit institution delivered a scathing report in November asserting that efforts to make the Louvre more attractive to visitors had come at a cost to security.

Then came a revelation that soured trust further: a 2018 assessment by the jewellery house Van Cleef & Arpels reportedly flagged the very balcony exploited during the break-in as a weak point — reachable by an extendable ladder. The Louvre said it only became aware of this evaluation after the theft, but the sequence has fed a sense of forewarning turned into failure.

Director Laurence des Cars has pledged more police presence and additional cameras, admitting systemic failings in testimony before parliament. And yet, last week the museum closed one gallery temporarily because of concerns over a crumbling ceiling — a small, visible sign of the larger infrastructural challenges that come with running a global cultural behemoth out of buildings largely shaped in the Renaissance and later centuries.

Balancing Welcome and Watchfulness

The Louvre draws a human tide: roughly 9–10 million visitors annually before the pandemic, and still millions each year afterward as tourism rebounds. Managing that influx in an old palace requires impossible trade-offs. How much do you fortify a place and risk turning it into a fortress? How open do you keep your cultural life and risk exploit?

“Museums have a paradox,” said Dr. Samuel Osei, an art security consultant who has advised institutions in Europe and Africa. “They must be hospitable to the public and hostile to theft. The balance is technical, financial and philosophical.”

Voices from the Streets

Outside the museum, the reaction was raw and local. A café owner on Rue de Rivoli poured a cup of espresso and shook his head. “People come from everywhere to see beauty,” he said. “Now the beauty seems fragile.”

A tourist from Brazil, clutching a guidebook, said she’d come to Paris for “the feeling of connection” to history. “To think someone would cut a hole in that feeling — it feels like a betrayal.”

Meanwhile, residents in Aubervilliers expressed mixed emotions. “You can’t paint a suburb as simply criminal,” said Samir, who manages a barber shop in the town. “There are jobs, families, youth programs. But yes, some people make choices that bring shame to us all.”

What This Theft Tells Us About a Larger World

The Louvre heist is more than a headline; it is a hinge onto broader debates. How do societies protect their common heritage in an era where security budgets are strained and cultural institutions compete for attention and funding? How do we value objects that serve both as commerce and as public memory?

There’s also the global angle: stolen art and artifacts often travel across borders into shadow markets that feed collectors who prefer secrecy over provenance. The international systems to recover looted or stolen cultural goods—Interpol notices, bilateral police cooperation, customs alerts—work, but slowly and unevenly.

As arrests mount and the search continues, the public is left to wonder: will the jewels turn up, tucked away in a cellar or cut up and scattered into new commodities? Will the arrests lead to restitution, or only provide a temporary sense of closure?

After the Heist — A City Reflects

Walking along the Seine that evening, I passed a group of schoolchildren sketching the Louvre’s façade, oblivious to the headlines from the day. One girl looked up and pointed at the gallery’s golden windows. “It’s still beautiful,” she said. That sentence, simple and unvarnished, felt like a rebuttal.

Beauty remains. So does perplexity. And underneath both is a pressing question for the future: how do we protect the treasures that root communities to their past while keeping the doors open to the millions who need to see them to feel that connection?

Perhaps that is the real theft we must guard against — the slow erosion of faith that history belongs to all of us. If a crown can be lifted in seven minutes, what must we change so that the past, in all its fragile brilliance, can survive the long haul?