Newsom Decries Trump’s Climate Change Stance as ‘a Disgrace’

November 12, 2025

Trump's attitude to climate change a 'disgrace' - Newsom — Gavin Newsom said he did not want the US to be a footnote at the conference

Under the Canopy: California’s Rebuke and an Indigenous Uprising at COP30

Belém wears the Amazon in its pores. Steam rises from the river at dawn, and the air tastes like wet earth and possibility. It is here, under giant canopies and between rows of climate tents that smell faintly of coffee and the industrial cool of air conditioning, that two very different scenes unfolded at COP30: a state governor’s sharp rebuke of a national stance, and Indigenous voices literally colliding with the meeting’s security apparatus.

On a steamy evening, California Governor Gavin Newsom strode to the podium as if to remind the world that subnational power sometimes fills diplomatic vacuums better than an absent capital. His words were clear, barbed, and brimming with urgency. “We will not let my country’s absence become the global narrative on climate ambition,” he told reporters, voice steady over the buzz of translators and the drone of cameras. “California will show that prosperity and decarbonization are not mutually exclusive — they are the same project.”

Newsom’s presence in Belém felt like an act of reclamation. He insisted that the Golden State — home to Silicon Valley, Hollywood, and a $3–4 trillion economy that rivals nations — is not just a policy laboratory but a marketplace-shaping power. “On many days this year, our grid has run on predominantly clean energy for stretches of time,” he said. “We’re competing for the green jobs, the investments, and the technologies that will define the 21st century.”

It was a classic subnational diplomacy pitch: if Washington will not lead, states and cities will. This is not mere rhetoric. Cities and regions already sign bilateral and multilateral agreements to reduce emissions, invest in battery storage, and decarbonize transportation. California’s aggressive climate agenda — from strict vehicle emissions standards to mandates for rooftop solar and ambitious forest-management programs — gives it a global footprint.

When a State Acts Like a Country

“People ask me why I’m here,” Newsom told me later in a quieter corridor, away from microphones. “Because the climate crisis is unfolding now, and delay is the most expensive policy of all. My job is to ensure that American ingenuity — California ingenuity — is part of the solution.”

He added a sobering note about the economic fallout of climate-driven disasters. “We are seeing climate risk show up as financial risk. Homeowners in fire-prone zones are finding insurance unaffordable or unobtainable. Mortgages are harder to secure. That is not hypothetical — it is a national crisis with local consequences.”

That point lands hard in California, where wildfires have burned millions of acres in recent years, causing billions in insured losses and prompting insurers to pull back in the riskiest markets. Analysts estimate that climate-exposed losses are increasing insurance rates unevenly, making large swaths of coastal and inland communities harder to insure and, therefore, harder to sell or mortgage.

For Newsom and for many state and city leaders in the room, this year’s COP felt like a stage to reframe climate action not just as environmental idealism, but as an economic necessity — part of everyday household budgets and national competitiveness.

Voices at the Gate: Indigenous Protest and a Moment of Confrontation

But the scene outside the blue-tented high-level zone was starkly different. As negotiations hummed along, dozens of Indigenous activists and their supporters stormed the main entrance, attempting to carry their demands into the heart of the conference. The skirmish that followed was brief but jarring: scuffles with security, overturned chairs used as barricades, and the kind of chaos that underlines a deeper frustration.

“We have been talking long enough,” said Maria Clara, an organizer with a local Indigenous rights network who had her voice hoarse from chanting. “They will sign documents at the COP and go home — but our rivers, our forests, our lives are still being taken. We came to make them listen inside the blue zone.”

Joao Santiago, a professor at the Federal University of Pará who watched the scene from the fringe, put it bluntly: “The Indigenous movement wanted to present their demands inside, not on a list or behind a rope. They were pushed, and then the pushback became physical.”

UN and Brazilian security personnel quickly moved to restore order. A United Nations spokesperson confirmed that two security staff sustained minor injuries and that the venue had been secured. “Brazilian and UN authorities are investigating,” the spokesperson said. “The negotiations continue.”

Still, the image of activists clambering over barricades — driven by decades of dispossession and the current acceleration of land-grabbing and deforestation — haunted the corridors. It exposed a recurring criticism of global climate summits: that the people most affected by climate policy decisions often find themselves excluded from the rooms where those decisions are made.

Why This Matters

There are larger threads woven through these two scenes — the governor’s speech and the protesters’ breach. First, the rise of subnational diplomacy: cities, states, and regions are increasingly stepping into roles once monopolized by national governments. They sign deals, set standards, and attract capital. This decentralization can accelerate solutions but also complicates accountability and equity.

Second, the struggle over who gets to sit at the table. Indigenous communities have long argued that global conferences often elevate technical fixes while sidelining ancestral knowledge and rights. “Recognition without rights is tokenism,” said a leader from an Amazonian federation, speaking on condition of anonymity for safety. “We need legal protections for our lands, not photo ops.”

And finally, there is the political drama of national representation. Whether a national delegation is thin, vocal, or absent, the global stage interprets such choices as signals. They shape market expectations, investor confidence, and — crucially — the trust of vulnerable communities who want both justice and survival.

Questions for the Reader

What do we expect from a climate summit? Is it a place for grand commitments backed by new finance and law, or is it a theater where reputations are managed? When subnational actors like California assert influence, is that hopeful experimentation or fragmented governance?

And perhaps the most urgent question: how do we create spaces where Indigenous peoples and frontline communities are not forced to storm the gates to be seen and heard?

Where We Go From Here

The incident in Belém is not an isolated spectacle; it is a mirror. It reflects a climate politics in transition — a world where power is diffuse, where local and global demands collide, and where the urgency of action is increasingly measured in household losses and burned forests, not just in emissions charts.

California’s governor left with headlines. The Indigenous delegation left with a sharper platform and, perhaps, renewed solidarity. Negotiators inside continued their slow arithmetic of pledges and plans. The Amazon kept breathing — for now — and the world watched, unsettled and attentive.

As you read this, consider where you stand in that uneasy balance: patient with diplomacy, impatient for justice, or somewhere in between. Climate policy is no longer only the business of ministers and scientists. It is also deeply personal — a question of whose home is insured, whose river is protected, and whose voice is allowed inside the tent.

Democrats: Epstein allegedly told investigators Trump knew about the girls

hanad

November 12, 2025

Epstein alleged Trump 'knew about the girls' - Democrats — Donald Trump and Jeffrey Epstein reportedly fell out in 2004 over a property deal

A File, a Photo, and a Country Wrestling With What It Means

On a rain-bright morning, a stack of emails—plain text, jagged in their bluntness—was pushed into the public square by House Democrats. What might have been dismissed as the whisperings of a disgraced financier instead landed like a stone in a still pond: ripples of accusation, denial, and the old American fixation with power and secrecy.

At the center is Jeffrey Epstein, the financier who died in federal custody in 2019 while awaiting trial on sex‑trafficking charges. Equally central, at least in the dizzying ellipse of the newly released messages, is Donald J. Trump, the former president who has repeatedly denied knowing about—or participating in—Epstein’s crimes.

What the Emails Say — and What They Don’t

The correspondence, obtained by Democrats on the House Oversight Committee after a subpoena of Epstein’s estate, contains lines that are short, stark, and explosive. In an email thread addressed to Ghislaine Maxwell and the author Michael Wolff, Epstein reportedly wrote that “Trump…knew about the girls,” and that the then‑real estate mogul had, according to Epstein, asked Maxwell to stop bringing certain young women around.

Another passage—more oblique, but no less provocative—reads: “that dog that hasn’t barked is Trump,” coupled with an assertion that an unnamed victim “spent hours at my house with him.” Maxwell’s brief reply—“I have been thinking about that”—is the kind of small, chilling line that investigative reporters live for.

These are not court judgments. They are, at best, fragments of a conversation stitched together after the writer is dead and the other principal is no longer a private citizen. At worst, they are fodder for partisan theater. Both, of course, can be true at the same time.

Flashpoints: Denials, Smears, and the White House Response

The White House pushed back with predictable force. Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt told reporters, “The Democrats selectively leaked emails to the liberal media to create a fake narrative to smear President Trump.”

“Selective leaks are a political tool,” a committee aide countered in a phone call, asking not to be named. “We think the public has a right to see material that could go to the heart of who knew what, and when.”

That tug-of-war is familiar to anyone who’s watched the past decade of American politics: revelation and rebuttal moving in tandem, each feeding the other’s machinery.

Context: The Long, Ugly History

To understand why these emails landed like a meteor in a charged political atmosphere, you have to trace the contours that made the country susceptible to the shock. Epstein’s legal arc is notorious: a 2008 plea agreement in Florida that many victims and advocates called a travesty, followed by renewed federal charges in 2019 alleging sex trafficking of minors in New York and Florida. Epstein’s death in a Manhattan jail cell that year was ruled a suicide by the Department of Justice, but that finding has not quieted suspicions.

Ghislaine Maxwell, meanwhile, was convicted in 2021 of sex‑trafficking charges and later sentenced to a lengthy prison term. The crimes laid out at trial—trafficking, recruitment, and exploitation—were horrific in their detail, and the women and girls who testified became part of a public reckoning.

“We’re still counting victims in a moral sense,” said Dr. Lena Ortiz, a psychologist who works with survivors of trafficking. “Legal outcomes don’t erase trauma. They only map one part of a much larger human catastrophe.”

Local Color: Palm Beach Balls and Manhattan Basements

If you picture this story—really picture it—you’ll see late‑nineties Palm Beach summers and Manhattan high‑society parties. You’ll see Epstein in a photograph smiling beside a young Trump, a snapshot that has been repurposed a thousand times online. You’ll smell sunscreen and jasmine at Mar‑a‑Lago and the must of old money in a Florida club house. You’ll also see the stark opposite: the fluorescent light of a federal jail cell, the slow hum of a courtroom, the cramped living room where a woman remembers being offered a ride and never getting one home.

“It’s surreal,” said Marianne Leung, who runs a community center in Palm Beach and has counselled survivors. “You get visitors who grew up here and saw these people on magazine covers. The town has two faces: one for the parties, and one that lives with the consequences.”

Politics, Conspiracy, and the Machinery of Distrust

Layered over these personal tragedies is a political ecosystem that thrives on suspicion. For some supporters of Trump and other right‑wing influencers, Epstein’s death and the cloud of unanswered questions became proof of a “deep state” conspiracy to protect powerful Democrats. For opponents, Epstein’s networks are an index of how social and financial capital can be weaponized to exploit the vulnerable.

A DOJ memo released in July stated there was no “client list” as had been alleged in some quarters, and reaffirmed the conclusion that Epstein died by suicide. That did not end the debate. Instead it shifted it: from disputing facts to arguing about motives.

“When institutions respond in partial ways, people fill the gaps with narratives that suit them,” said Karim Hassan, a sociologist who studies conspiracy theories. “We are living in an attention economy—where doubt can be monetized and outrage can be a product.”

What This Could Mean—and What It Won’t

Will these emails lead to new criminal charges? That seems unlikely in the immediate term; Mr. Trump has not been accused by prosecutors of crimes related to Epstein. But the political and cultural effects ripple. A House vote to compel broader disclosure of the case files is being pushed by Democrats eager to create pressure and transparency. Trump’s allies, some of whom amplified conspiracy theories in the past, feel betrayed by shifts in messaging from their own leader.

For survivors, the debates in Washington feel removed from their lived reality. “It’s not about who’s famous in the pictures,” said Nina*, a survivor who asked to be identified only by her first name. “It’s about whether someone is listening to what we say about how the system failed us.”

Questions to Sit With

As you scroll past the headlines, ask yourself: what counts as evidence in a democracy? When does a fragment become a truth that reshapes public life? And how do we hold powerful people to account in a society where power buys influence, and influence can shape narratives?

These emails do not answer those questions. They do, however, force them into the open.

Closing: The Long Work of Reckoning

The Epstein story is not a single scandal; it is a long, unfinished chapter about exploitation, elite privilege, and the legal system’s uneven reach. The newly disclosed emails are a reminder that history is messy and that closure—political or personal—is rare.

“We’re not closing a case with a file dump,” said a veteran investigative journalist who has covered the Epstein story for years. “We’re opening another chapter in a conversation about who gets protected, who gets believed, and what kind of country we want to be.”

When the partisan dust settles, the lives that truly matter in this story are not the famous faces in old photographs but those who were harmed—and those who keep fighting for accountability in long, patient ways.

Turkey reports 20 dead after military aircraft crashes in Georgia

hanad

November 12, 2025

Turkey says 20 killed in military plane crash in Georgia — Wreckage is seen at the crash site of the Turkish C-130 military cargo plane

Smoke over the vineyards: a cargo plane crash in Georgia that stunned a region

On a crisp morning in Kakheti, where rows of vines slope toward the Caucasus and the air smells faintly of fermenting grapes, a sound split the quiet — a thunderclap that did not belong to weather or thunder. By midday, that sound had become a headline and a scar: a Turkish C-130 military transport crashed into the hills near Sighnaghi, and 20 soldiers aboard lost their lives.

The details were shockingly plain and painfully scant. The aircraft had departed Baku, crossing a narrow strip of sky between Azerbaijan and Turkey, and came down on Georgian soil just beyond the border. Turkish and Georgian authorities converged on the site in the hours that followed, combing broken earth and charred wreckage, seeking the same thing rescue teams always look for after a sudden crash: answers.

On the ground: local voices and the immediate aftermath

“I was pruning the vines when I heard it — like a furnace being ripped apart,” said Lado, a 57-year-old winemaker from a nearby village, his hands still stained with grape juice. “We walked up the ridge and saw smoke. At first we thought it was a farm accident. Then we saw the uniforms.”

Villagers describe a scene not of drama but of careful, stunned work: neighbors helping neighbors, firefighters and soldiers laying out stretchers that were not needed, and an air of baffled sorrow that settled over the hilltops. The town of Sighnaghi, often nicknamed the “City of Love” for its cobbled streets and panoramas, found itself hosting investigators and grieving families, a jarring juxtaposition of everyday life and national tragedy.

“There is nothing more terrible than waiting near a crash site,” said one Georgian volunteer aiding search operations. “You wait for survivors, but the silence tells another story.”

What kind of plane, and why it matters

The aircraft involved was a Lockheed Martin C-130 Hercules, a four-engine turboprop that has been the backbone of tactical airlift for militaries around the world since the 1950s.

The Hercules family first flew in 1954 and more than 2,500 airframes have been built, serving in over 70 countries.
The plane is prized for its ability to land on short or unprepared runways and to carry large loads — roughly up to 21,000 kilograms (about 46,000 pounds) depending on configuration.
Its versatility has seen it used as a transport for troops and cargo, as well as converted for search-and-rescue, aerial refueling, and even gunship roles.

“When a C-130 goes down, the implications ripple far beyond the crash site,” said Dr. Aylin Demir, an aviation safety expert who has worked on military and civilian investigations. “These airframes are durable but old, and they often operate under demanding conditions. Investigators will want to know the aircraft’s maintenance history, the load it carried, weather at the time, and whether flight data and cockpit voice recorders are intact.”

Investigations, international responses, and the choreography of search teams

Turkish and Georgian teams began joint inspections immediately, combing for structural clues and the avionics recorders that are key to unravelling what happened. Lockheed Martin, the manufacturer of the C-130, issued condolences and said it would cooperate with authorities in the investigation.

Across the region and beyond, leaders and international organizations expressed sorrow and solidarity. Officials in Baku and Tbilisi sent condolences; NATO and Western capitals extended messages of support; and Turkish defence officials spoke to counterparts to coordinate search-and-rescue and the technical examination of the wreckage.

“In moments like this borders matter less than the common work of finding truth,” said a senior official involved in the multinational response. “We must ensure the investigation is thorough and transparent, both to honor those who died and to prevent future tragedies.”

What investigators will look for

In practical terms, the probe will likely focus on several established avenues:

Flight data and cockpit voice recorders — if retrievable, they offer the most direct clues.
Maintenance and inspection logs — to chase any latent mechanical failures.
Pilot training and duty cycles — fatigue and human factors can be crucial.
Weather and terrain analysis — mountain winds and microclimates in the Caucasus can surprise even experienced crews.

The human toll and the wider context

Turkey’s defence ministry called this the deadliest military incident for the country since 2020. Twenty young soldiers, many with families, colleagues and communities who now face empty chairs at dinner tables and gaps in the ranks. Names were withheld in the immediate aftermath as officials notified next of kin.

“We are a small town; everyone knows someone in uniform,” said Mariam, a teacher who lives in Sighnaghi. “When the soldiers come through, they buy bread, they chat in the market, they smile at the children. Their loss is not only national — it is painfully local.”

Beyond personal grief, the crash also shines a light on systemic questions: the maintenance of aging fleets, the pressures on military logistics as regional tensions keep military transport on constant rotation, and the human risk woven into strategic mobility. As nations transport personnel and material across tight corridors of airspace, the efficiency of supply lines comes with a stubborn and sometimes deadly risk.

Why this matters to a global audience

We live in an age when the geopolitical becomes personal with alarming speed. A transport flight meant to move soldiers between friendly countries becomes an international incident overnight: it brings together three nations in cooperative investigation, prompts condolences from international alliances, and reopens conversations about safety practices that matter to militaries and civilians everywhere.

What does it say about our global systems when a single mechanical failure or tragic accident can ripple across borders and headlines? How do we balance the strategic imperatives of regional security with the human costs borne by individual soldiers and their families?

Looking ahead: accountability, memory, and the work of healing

For now, the hills of Kakheti hold both smoke-stained soil and the meticulous footprints of investigators. The next days and weeks will be about evidence: metallurgical tests, radar tracks, interviews with crew and maintenance staff, and the slow, careful reconstruction of what the aircraft did in its final minutes.

Meanwhile, communities will cook, pray, and remember. Flowers will likely appear at municipal buildings and in front of barracks; messages of condolence will flow in from capitals and local cafés alike. A region known for its long history of hospitality and feasting will pause to count those who are missing.

“We cannot bring them back,” said a rescue worker wiping his brow. “But we can do our duty: find out why this happened, and make sure it does not happen again.”

What would you want to know if you were waiting for answers? How do we, as distant readers, honor lives cut short by a mishap so far from our everyday streets? In a crowded media landscape, perhaps the most humane response is simple: to listen, to witness, and to remember that behind every headline are names, faces, and families who deserve both truth and compassion.

Typhoon Causes Severe Flooding Across Taiwan, Forcing Thousands to Evacuate

hanad

November 12, 2025

Typhoon brings floods to Taiwan as thousands evacuated — Strong waves crash against the sea wall in Yilan, Taiwan

When the Rain Came Like a Wall: Life After Fung-wong Swept Through Taiwan

In the harbour town of Suao, the night air still smelled of salt and mud. Boats rocked gently at their moorings as men and women hauled out soggy mats and plastic buckets, scraping a pale slurry of silt from doorways and kitchens.

“The water came in so quickly,” said fisherman Hung Chun-yi, wiping a streak of grey from his brow as he shoveled sludge from his stoop. His first floor had been submerged to about 60 centimetres. “It rained so much, and so fast, the drainage couldn’t take it.”

The image of water rising to neck level — soldiers wading through streets to reach trapped families, rescue crews ferrying the elderly to dry ground, televisions broadcasting the same scenes of muddy, relentless inundation — is now etched into the memory of eastern Taiwan this week. More than 8,300 people were moved to safer locations as Typhoon Fung-wong, though weakened, dumped extraordinary rain on the island’s rugged coastlines. The torrential arrival left 51 people injured, and thousands of lives upended for a time.

Numbers that Tell a Story

Weather officials reported a month-record downpour in Suao: 648 millimetres in a single day, the most rain recorded there for the month on record. Over 1,000 homes in the town were flooded. Elsewhere in Yilan County and neighbouring Hualien, images of waters swelling above walls and racing down mountain ravines were beamed into living rooms across the nation.

Local authorities and the fire department concentrated evacuations primarily in Yilan and Hualien — regions that lie along Taiwan’s steep, tree-draped eastern flank. The monsoon surge pushed north, and when a late-season typhoon arrived from the south, the two systems briefly conspired to pound the same places with relentless rain.

On the Ground

Soldiers and volunteers worked through the night. Captain Lin Wei-hao, leading a search-and-rescue detachment, described the challenge simply: “The current makes everything unpredictable. You can see a road one moment and the next it’s a channel of foam and debris.”

At a makeshift relief centre, a woman named Mei — a bakery owner whose shop in Yilan had flooded — passed out steaming bowls of radish soup to volunteers. “When the water came, we grabbed what mattered and left,” she said. “Someone next door grabbed their photo albums. Someone else, their cat. We’re tired, but we have neighbours.”

It was ordinary, human detail — the handing over of a thermos, the careful folding of soaked garments, the quiet tally of losses — that made the disaster feel less like a televised statistic and more like a community’s slow, stubborn refusal to be defined by calamity.

Why This Storm Matters Beyond Taiwan

Fung-wong had already carved a path of devastation through parts of the Philippines before it reached Taiwan, where authorities linked it to 27 deaths there. Across East Asia, the season has already carried a grim tally: only weeks prior, floods from a September typhoon claimed 18 lives in Hualien County, underscoring how vulnerable mountainous coastal regions are to sudden, extreme rainfall.

Typhoon season in the western North Pacific tends to peak in the summer months, but what has alarmed forecasters is not merely frequency; it is timing and intensity. “Summer is getting longer and typhoons are arriving later and later,” Huang En-hong, a forecaster at Taiwan’s Central Weather Administration, told reporters. “Climate change could cause similar more extreme weather events, but more study was needed to establish a trend.”

That caution is important. Scientific consensus, including assessments from the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), indicates that a warming atmosphere holds more moisture — which tends to translate into heavier rainfall when storms form. It also suggests that while the total number of storms might not spike dramatically, the proportion of very intense storms could rise.

Resilience, Infrastructure and the Global Supply Chain

Some reassurances came quickly: Fung-wong was forecast to skirt the southern tip of Taiwan before moving back out into the open Pacific, and the island’s technology hub around Hsinchu — home to the world’s largest contract chipmaker, TSMC — was not expected to take a direct hit. For a global economy still on edge over semiconductor supply chains, that mattered.

But the calamity raises broader questions. How do communities adapt when flooding becomes a repeated trauma? How do infrastructure design, land-use planning, and emergency systems change when an event once considered “rare” arrives with new regularity?

“Our drainage systems were built for a different climate,” said Dr. Alex Wu, a civil engineer at a Taiwanese university who studies urban flood resilience. “The old models assume a storm time and place. Today, storms deliver their rainfall faster and in more concentrated bursts. We need more flexible, nature-based solutions — wetlands, permeable pavements, river buffers — alongside hardened defences.”

Small Stories, Big Themes

There is something profoundly human in how people respond to such crises. In a village near the coast, a teenage volunteer named Lin Yu brought her grandmother to the evacuation centre and then returned to help clean up her neighbour’s shop.

“We could lose things,” she said, “but we still have each other.” It’s a sentiment echoed in neighbourhood WhatsApp groups where offers of borrowed pumps, spare drying racks and cups of tea come before formal aid arrives.

That grassroots solidarity matters. But so does government planning. Taiwan’s emergency alert systems and a culture of frequent drills — part of a society that contends with earthquakes and typhoons as regular facts of life — likely reduced the human toll. Still, the repeated disruptions to livelihoods, the damage to housing, and the mounting repair bills press against fragile household budgets.

What Comes Next?

Immediate recovery: clearing roads, repairing electrical lines, and helping families return safely to their homes.
Mid-term: assessing infrastructure weaknesses — storm drains, river embankments, emergency shelters — and directing funds to resilient upgrades.
Long-term: integrating climate projections into planning, protecting natural buffers, and ensuring social safety nets for those most affected.

For Taiwan, as for many places around the planet, these are no longer theoretical exercises. They are policy choices that will determine whether communities can withstand the next storm and the one after that.

A Final Thought

Standing on a muddy roadside, Hung Chun-yi looked out over the harbour, the waves smoothing themselves into a glassy hush as if nothing had happened. He shook his head and gave a wry laugh: “We’ve always done this — cleared the mess and gone fishing again. But this was something else.”

What happens in Suao, in Yilan, in small coastal towns across the world, ripples far beyond their shores. When infrastructure creaks, economies strain, and communities rally, the choices made now — to invest, to plan, to listen to scientists and to local voices — will tell the story of how we weather an uncertain climate.

So I ask you, reading this from wherever you are: how prepared is your town for the next wall of water? And what are you willing to change so that when the rain comes, it doesn’t come like a wall?

Trump Declares ‘Major Win’ Ahead of Imminent Shutdown Vote

hanad

November 12, 2025

Trump claims 'very big victory' as shutdown vote nears — US President Donald Trump spoke during a Veterans Day ceremony at Arlington National Cemetery in Virginia

A Nation Reopens — But at What Cost? Inside the Shutdown That Halted Paychecks and Holiday Plans

On a chilly Veterans Day morning at Arlington National Cemetery, rows of flags fluttered in a pale wind as veterans bowed their heads. The ceremony, meant to be a pause for collective memory, briefly became a livewire of politics when President Donald Trump paused his remarks to clap and congratulate Republican leaders for what he called “a very big victory.”

“We’re opening up our country — it should have never been closed,” he said, his voice carrying across the marble and evergreen. Later, he told reporters he expected the Republican-controlled House to pass a stopgap that would fund the government through January. “Only people that hate our country want to see it not open,” he added.

The words landed like a line of drumfire in a Washington this week: the longest federal shutdown in recent memory was on the cusp of ending after six bruising weeks. But while the lights may be flicking back on in federal buildings, the human fallout is still humming in kitchens, hangars, food banks and airport terminals across the country.

What Reopened — and What Didn’t

Leaders in the House prepared to vote on a temporary measure that would restore funding until early January. The bill was the product of hard political arithmetic: a narrow Republican majority in the House and a Senate drama in which eight Democrats broke ranks to allow an earlier procedural win for Republicans.

Top Democrats vowed resistance — publicly, at least — and many lamented that they had not secured an extension of health insurance subsidies central to the dispute. The subsidies, which keep premiums affordable for millions under the Affordable Care Act, were at the heart of the standoff. Without them, many households faced the prospect of sharply higher monthly costs.

The Human Numbers

The statistics are stark and stubborn. Around one million federal employees missed paychecks during the shutdown, forced to cobble together groceries and mortgage payments on credit cards or charity. Some agency functions slowed to a crawl; others, like national parks and passport processing, were interrupted entirely.

Food security was a particularly acute casualty. Roughly 42 million Americans rely on SNAP benefits; a lower court had ordered full funding for November distributions, but the Supreme Court temporarily paused that ruling at the administration’s request, extending a stay into the next day. The pause meant the government avoided immediately tapping contingency funds to make a multibillion-dollar transfer — a decision that left families and state agencies staring at uncertainty.

Airlines, Holidays and a Ticking Clock

For travelers, the shutdown wasn’t an abstract argument — it threatened to tangibly upend the Thanksgiving exodus. Transportation Secretary Sean Duffy warned that if the stalemate persisted, airlines could make “serious calculations” about whether to keep flying, since unpaid air traffic controllers would degrade safety margins and capacity.

“You’re going to have airlines that make serious calculations about whether they continue to fly, full stop,” Secretary Duffy told reporters at Chicago’s O’Hare, where flight boards bore the sober lines of cancellation and delay.

Imagine tens of thousands of families with turkey, gravy and wriggling kids clogged in a terminal while a federal tussle plays out on cable news. That’s not hypothetical for many — it was a real fear, one that pushed the dispute into personal space where politics often loses its distance.

Food Lines and Frayed Tempers

In Los Angeles, volunteers handed out boxes of free food in a sprawling lot, each package a small, practical defiance against a crisis that had already stretched community safety nets thin.

“We had to put out extra tables today,” said Ana Morales, a volunteer coordinator at one distribution center. “People come with lists now — ‘I need baby formula, I need breakfast for my kids’ — and it’s like you can see the worry in their hands.”

A federal postal worker, who asked to remain unnamed, told me he had spent recent nights huddled at his kitchen table balancing bills. “We all signed up to serve,” he said, “but when payday disappears, that pride doesn’t pay the rent.”

Political Ripples and Inward Fractures

The shutdown exposed fissures in both parties. Democrats were split, some arguing that breaking to pass a short-term fix without extending insurance subsidies was a betrayal of principles and constituents. Republicans, narrowly holding the House majority, celebrated the reopening as a defensive victory and a demonstration of toughness.

“Pathetic,” California Governor Gavin Newsom wrote on social media after the deal moved forward — a blunt, public rebuke that underscored the internal anger among Democrats who had hoped to extract a policy concession.

At the same time, the dispute revealed fractures inside President Trump’s own coalition. Key voices warned that forcing the shutdown to be as painful as possible was political brinkmanship with human consequences — and that strategy had already cost goodwill among voters uneasy about disruptions to pay and pocketbooks.

What the Polls Say — and Don’t Say

As the shutdown crossed the 40-day mark, multiple polls showed public impatience growing, and many pointed fingers at the party seen as responsible for the impasse. But poll numbers can mask deeper shifts: the crisis sharpened concerns about affordability and social safety nets — issues that resonated from New York to Virginia in recent local contests.

For voters who worry about skyrocketing premiums, unpaid wages, or whether their children will eat this week, the politics aren’t theoretical. They are the daily ledger of life.

Legal High Stakes: SNAP on Pause

The courts briefly inserted themselves into the drama. A lower court had required the administration to fund SNAP for November, aligning the legal system with urgent humanitarian realities. But the Supreme Court issued an administrative stay, giving the justices more time to weigh the request. Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson signed the brief order — a procedural move that nonetheless had real consequences for the distribution of benefits.

The extension of the stay meant millions of families faced another night of uncertainty about access to food, while state agencies debated emergency workarounds.

Broader Questions: What Kind of Safety Net Do We Want?

As the government flicked back on, broader questions lingered. What happens when political strategy places the livelihoods of a million workers and the grocery lists of 42 million SNAP recipients on a chessboard? How do we balance fiscal and ideological goals with basic civic responsibility? And what does it mean for democratic legitimacy when ceremonial days of remembrance are used to draw partisan lines?

These are not merely Washington questions. They touch families in kitchen islands and long-haul truckers, veterans visiting Arlington and tourists delayed in departure lounges. They expose the tension between short-term political gain and long-term social cohesion.

“I don’t want politics in a memorial,” one veteran said after the Arlington event. “We came to remember. But look — it affects everyone. My neighbor didn’t get paid last week, and his kids are worried. That’s what matters.”

After the Vote: A Fragile Pause

Even if the House vote succeeds and federal doors stay open through January, the pause will be fragile. The health care debate remains unresolved, courts may weigh in further, and the frayed trust between parties suggests another showdown could loom before long.

For now, families will return to their routines, some shaken, some grateful for the paycheck that finally arrived. Volunteers will keep packing food boxes. Air travelers will breathe easier — for a while. And the lines of flags at Arlington will settle back into their quiet, carrying memory forward along with a reminder: democracy, like any community, is tested not in uninterrupted calm but in how it recovers from rupture.

So here’s a question for you, the reader: when the lights go back on in public buildings, what should we expect those institutions to stand for? Safety and service, or political advantage? The answer will shape more than budgets — it will shape the moral ledger of a nation.

India pledges justice after deadly car blast that killed multiple people

hanad

November 12, 2025

India vows justice following deadly car explosion — Police officers near the site of the explosion in New Delhi, India

Smoke at Dawn: A City Startled by an Explosion Near the Red Fort

At first light on a humid Delhi morning, smoke curled up between the ancient walls of the Red Fort and the tangled lanes of Old Delhi. Stalls that had been unloading spices and bangles overnight were littered with ash. Windowpanes trembled in narrow houses as people stepped out into a scene they had not expected to find in the city’s historic heart: charred metal, a circle of scorched earth, and the singed scent of petrol and rubber hanging in the air.

By noon, officials confirmed that at least eight people had died in what Delhi authorities are treating as a possible explosion — an incident that has sent ripples of fear through a city used to being the stage for grand parades, political rhetoric, and everyday bustle. Nineteen others were reported wounded, and early news wires later carried an unconfirmed update that the death toll may have climbed.

“We heard a massive bang, like thunder,” said Sunita Devi, who runs a tea stall a stone’s throw from the gate. “People started running. There were screams. We tried to help the injured. I still can’t believe this happened here.”

Official Voices and the Rush to Answer

In New Delhi, ministers spoke with the urgency expected of a capital where a security lapse can feel like a national wound. Defence Minister Rajnath Singh told a conference that agencies were conducting a “swift and thorough inquiry” and vowed those responsible “will not be spared under any circumstances.” Home Minister Amit Shah cautioned that investigators were keeping “all angles open” as forensic teams combed the scene.

Prime Minister Narendra Modi, preparing to leave for a state visit, offered condolences and emphasized that “the whole nation stands with” the victims’ families. The language is familiar in crisis: sympathy coupled with the promise of answers. Yet those words offer little immediate comfort to family members waiting for news in local hospitals, or to commuters seeing their morning routes altered by cordons and checks.

What We Know — and What We Don’t

Details remain fragmentary. Police have invoked anti-terror laws to pursue the inquiry near the 17th-century ramparts of the Red Fort — a UNESCO World Heritage Site and the symbolic place from which India’s prime ministers address the nation each Independence Day.

Investigators spent the night at the scene, erecting white sheets around the blackened remains of vehicles. Forensic teams, anti-terror units and traffic police worked against a backdrop of political tension, memories of recent violence, and the spotlight of global media.

“For now we must let the science speak,” said an on-scene investigator who requested anonymity. “We collect residues, we trace the blast pattern. That will tell us more than speculation.”

Lives Touched: Local Color and Human Stories

The Red Fort sits at a crossroads of centuries: Mughal domes and colonial facades flank lanes where pilgrims, schoolchildren and tourists intersect. Old Delhi’s smell is a tapestry of frying oil, incense and crushed green chillies; its sound is a constant negotiation between horns and vendors’ cries. In this fabric, the explosion felt like a tear.

Mohammed Anwar, a rickshaw driver whose daily route winds through the area, said softly, “I brought a family to the hospital. The child kept asking why the sky was angry. I don’t have an answer.”

Street vendors spoke of lost business, but also of solidarity. “We closed for a while,” said Rekha, who sells glass bangles. “People helped pick up the ones that fell. We are small, but we look after each other here.”

History Looms Large

This is not the first time New Delhi has been jolted by violence. The capital has seen high-profile attacks over the years — the 2011 bombing outside the High Court that killed at least 14, and, more recently, an attack in April that left 26 civilians dead near a tourist site in Pahalgam, in the contested region of Jammu and Kashmir.

That April violence has already strained relations with Pakistan, leading to deadly exchanges in May that involved missiles, drones and artillery and were blamed for more than 70 deaths before a ceasefire was agreed. In that combustible context, any blast in the Indian capital will be read through a geopolitical lens — and rightly so.

Security and the Bigger Picture

Delhi’s National Capital Region (the metro and its suburbs) houses tens of millions of people and is among the most densely inhabited urban agglomerations on earth. With such scale comes vulnerability. Urban centers worldwide have become, increasingly, the stage for symbolic strikes: a market, a transit hub, a monument. They offer visibility and disruption.

Security analysts say the challenge is both technical and social. “You can beef up checks at gates and install more cameras,” said Dr. Ayesha Mir, a security studies scholar. “But the long-term task is intelligence — integrating community reports, monitoring financing and online messaging, and building trust so people report suspicious behaviour.”

That’s easier said than done. In cities as diverse as Delhi, suspicion can harden into communal tension, and the rush to blame external actors can obscure internal failures. The government has accused Pakistan of backing militants linked to prior attacks; Islamabad has denied responsibility. The geopolitical blame game can feed cycles of retaliation and rhetoric that cost lives and deepen mistrust.

What Comes Next — Investigations, Vigilance, and Resilience

Forensic analysis will be key. Investigators are looking at explosive residues, vehicle histories, CCTV footage and witness testimony. If a claim of responsibility emerges, it will reshape both domestic politics and foreign policy responses. If not, the inquiry will still have to explain how such devastation occurred in a heavily policed, watched-over area.

Practical changes are likely in the short term: increased patrols, more checkpoints, and heightened scrutiny of vehicles. But the long-term questions hover: how can a city preserve the openness that defines its markets and monuments while protecting its people? How do social safety nets and mental health services cope with survivors and witnesses?

Immediate: forensic results, hospital care, family identification, and transparent briefings.
Short-term: heightened security, targeted investigations, and community outreach to prevent rumours.
Long-term: intelligence reform, urban resilience planning, and cross-border diplomacy to curb militant support networks.

Questions for the Reader

What would you do if a public square you cherish turned into a crime scene? How should cities balance openness and security? And how much patience should we afford leaders when answers are slow in coming?

In the hours after the blast, Old Delhi’s life resumed in fits and starts: shops reopened, a man repaired a rickshaw, a mother brushed soot from her child’s hair. The city is resilient in ways that statistics often fail to show. But resilience is not enough. It must be matched with accountability, clear information, and concrete steps to prevent other mornings like this.

As investigators continue their work and the nation watches, the questions multiply. For the families of the dead and the injured, no policy will return what has been lost. For the rest of us — readers across the globe — this is another reminder that the monuments that anchor national identity are also fragile stages for human tragedy. How we respond now will say as much about our safety as it does about our shared humanity.

Thousands join Independence Day march through Warsaw’s central streets

hanad

November 12, 2025

Thousands take part in Independence Day march in Warsaw — The annual march through the Polish capital has become a rallying cry for all branches of Polish nationalism

Under White-and-Red Skies: Warsaw’s Independence Day March and the Many Faces of Patriotism

On a chill November morning, Warsaw unfurled its flags like a city remembering itself. White-and-red banners drooped and then billowed along the wide boulevards as thousands wound through the capital — young families, grey-haired veterans, hooded teenagers, politicians in pressed coats. The air tasted faintly of smoke from flares and the sugar-sweetness of street vendors’ fried pastries. It felt like a national anniversary, yes—but also like a crossroads, where competing visions of Poland chose to show themselves in public.

A familiar ritual, remade each year

For many Poles, 11 November is the day the map of Europe regained a shape that had been erased for 123 years. In 1918, after partitions by Austria-Hungary, the German Empire and Imperial Russia finally ended, Poland returned to the world stage. That history hung over the march like a long shadow: wreaths laid for Marshal Józef Piłsudski in the capital, conversations about grandparents’ stories, the names of lost towns whispered on the tram home.

But history here is not a single voice. This year’s march — attended by a broad spectrum of nationalist groups and leading figures from the political right — came with its usual mix of solemn commemoration and political theater. Organizers estimated the procession drew thousands; municipal sources reported that, alongside the main march, around 20,000 people took part in a 10 km community run that threaded through the city, and smaller civic events unfolded across Poland.

People on the march: faces, flags, and friction

“I come every year,” said Ewa, 58, who ran a small bakery near Krakowskie Przedmieście. She wrapped a red scarf tighter around her neck. “For me it’s family. It’s memories. But I also want to be careful—I don’t agree with all the banners. Still, the flag is ours.”

The march included prominent public figures on both sides of the political divide. Karol Nawrocki, the newly inaugurated president who won office last year with the backing of many nationalist voters, walked the route holding a large flag and surrounded by supporters and security detail. Jarosław Kaczyński, the veteran leader of the Law and Justice (PiS) party, also took part with senior colleagues. Opposite them, a smaller anti-fascist gathering waved pro-immigration placards and Palestinian flags, offering a counterpoint in a nearby square.

“Freedom means something different to different people,” observed Piotr Kowalski, a Warsaw-based political analyst. “For some, it’s sovereignty and cultural preservation. For others, it’s an open society with protections for minorities. Those tensions come into focus on this day.”

Theatre of the streets: fireworks, flares and a tight security net

City officials had prohibited fireworks for this year’s march; memories of clashes and property damage in some prior years kept the ban in place. Still, pockets of demonstrators set alight flares that painted the faces of the marchers crimson and orange. Smoke threaded through the columns of people, giving the procession a cinematic quality that unnerved some and thrilled others.

A heavy police presence was visible across central Warsaw: mounted units, riot squads in dark gear, and plainclothes officers moving through crowds. Inspector Anna Nowak, a police spokesperson, told reporters that “several thousand officers” were deployed and that, despite the scale of the demonstration, “the event concluded without major security incidents.”

“We prepared for the worst and hoped for the best,” Nowak said. “Coordination with local authorities, clear routes, and restrictions on pyrotechnics helped keep the day largely peaceful.”

Visitors, controversy, and the global gaze

The march attracted figures beyond Poland’s borders. British activist Tommy Robinson, a polarizing name in Europe’s nationalist scene, showed up at the invitation of Dominik Tarczyński, a Member of the European Parliament affiliated with PiS. His presence sparked debate: for some it confirmed the march’s transnational connections to the wider European far-right; for others it was a provocation that Poland should not have entertained.

“We invited guests to have conversations about national identity,” Tarczyński said. “This is about values that many Europeans share.”

Not everyone agreed. A student, Mateusz, 22, who joined the anti-fascist counter-march, said, “These kind of invitations give legitimization to people who traffic in hatred. Independence should be about protecting people—not excluding them.”

Local color: smells, conversations, and small acts of remembrance

Beyond the politics were the human details that make a city’s anniversary feel lived-in. Old friends met on tram stops and clasped hands; sellers of zapiekanki (Polish open-faced baguette pizzas) shouted orders; a brass band played a slow polonaise that made several elderly women stop and wipe their eyes. In cafes, TV screens looped archival footage from 1918 and the late 20th century, while younger patrons argued about Poland’s future in hushed voices over coffee.

“My grandfather fought in the resistance,” said Ania, 34, who works in cultural heritage. “He used to tell us: independence is not just a day, it’s a responsibility. I think a lot of people feel that, even if we disagree on what it looks like.”

Context and consequences: why this day still matters

Poland’s Independence Day is more than a parade. It is a mirror that reflects how a nation remembers its past and imagines its future. Across Europe and beyond, democracies are wrestling with questions about migration, national identity, economic anxiety, and the role of history in politics. Poland’s debate is a powerful example: a country with deep historical wounds and contemporary geopolitical concerns navigating how to express patriotism responsibly.

Analysts note that nationalist movements in Europe have been buoyed by economic uncertainty, cultural anxieties, and the rise of social media — trends that are global in scope. “What happens in Warsaw resonates elsewhere,” said Dr. Magdalena Rutkowska, a scholar of European politics. “It’s part of a broader conversation about sovereignty, community, and rights.”

What should we ask ourselves?

Standing at the edge of the march, watching flags ripple and hearing the distant drum of the band, I found myself asking: how does a nation honor its past without allowing that past to become a cudgel for exclusion? Can patriotic ceremony coexist with a pluralistic society? And what responsibility do political leaders have when they choose which voices to amplify?

These are not questions with easy answers. They are, however, the questions a democracy must keep asking.

Closing thoughts

When the last banners were folded and the flares had gone cold, Warsaw returned to its everyday rhythms. Trams hummed, dogs were walked, and conversations about the day bounced through late-night cafés. The march was a snapshot of Poland in motion: fiercely rooted in history, bruised by contemporary divides, yet populated by people who care deeply about their country’s direction.

Whether you watched from afar or stood in the crowd, the scene invites reflection: what does independence truly mean, and who gets to define it? The answer Warsaw gave this year was plural—and not entirely settled. The debate, like the city itself, will keep moving.

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