How Internal Division and Controversial Leadership Have Shaken a Constitutional Institution
Investigative Reporter
Rubio heads to Hungary after Trump endorses ally Viktor Orbán
A Washington envoy, a wounded alliance, and the smell of chimney smoke in Budapest
There is a particular winter air in Budapest that carries a hundred histories: chimneys breathing soot over the Danube, tram bells clattering, the metallic echo of politics ricocheting off the facades of a city that has long learned to live in the shadow of great powers.
Next week, that air will feel even more charged. According to the State Department, US Secretary of State Marco Rubio will travel to Hungary and Slovakia after attending the Munich Security Conference. It is a short diplomatic circuit with long echoes — a visit broadcast not just as routine statecraft, but as a signpost in a fraught transatlantic moment. President Donald Trump has openly endorsed Hungary’s prime minister, Viktor Orbán, calling him “a true friend, fighter, and WINNER.” That endorsement landed like a pebble in a still pond, sending concentric waves across capitals and kitchen tables alike.
On the ground in Hungary: intimacy and unease
Walk through the neighborhoods of Budapest and you will meet people whose responses to these developments resist neat categorization. In the VII district, a cafe owner named Gábor Nagy pours espresso with the practiced ease of someone who has heard every political pitch and seen most of them change. He shrugged when asked about Mr. Rubio’s impending visit.
“We drink coffee, we look at the news,” Gábor said. “Some people are happy when a strong friend comes. Others are worried. There is fatigue here — not just political fatigue, but a fatigue about being watched and judged by capitals far away.”
Gábor’s words capture the strange intimacy of Hungary’s moment: a country of roughly 9.6 million people, led for more than a decade by Orbán, who has become an emblem of Europe’s rightward drift. Orbán’s government has courted a politics of cultural defense — closing borders during the Syrian refugee crisis, promoting conservative family policies, and tightening control over media and public institutions. To some Hungarians, those moves feel like protection. To others, they read as the slow accretion of authoritarian habits.
Diplomacy where energy and security meet
The State Department says Rubio’s agenda will include bolstering bilateral and regional interests, a renewed focus on energy partnerships, and support for peace processes. In Slovakia, he will discuss nuclear energy cooperation, military modernization, and NATO commitments. Those are tidy diplomatic bullet points; beneath them lies a web of tangible anxieties.
Energy, more than any other single issue in recent years, has remade Europe’s strategic map. When the White House granted Hungary an exemption from US sanctions on Russian oil and gas imports last year, it underscored how energy dependencies can be leveraged into geopolitical leeway. Hungary imports a substantial share of its natural gas and relies on long-standing pipelines that run eastward. For policymakers in Washington and Brussels, that matters. For families heating their homes in a hard winter, it is existential.
Numbers that matter
- Hungary’s population: ~9.6 million.
- Orbán’s premiership: in power since 2010 and now seeking another term.
- Energy dependency: Central Europe’s reliance on Russian gas has been central to post-2014 security debates across the EU and NATO.
“Energy is not an abstract commodity here,” said Dr. Elena Voros, a Budapest-based analyst who studies Central European geopolitics. “It’s heat in the winter. It’s a factory that keeps running. When diplomats talk about energy diversification, that translates on the ground into pipelines, contracts, and sometimes political favors. That’s why these meetings matter.”
Collision of personalities and political markets
Donald Trump’s endorsement of Orbán — a leader who has nurtured warm ties with Vladimir Putin and resisted some EU initiatives in support of Ukraine — has heightened sensitivities across Europe. Orbán’s proposed fifth consecutive term, with elections set for April 12, faces an unusually robust challenge from Peter Magyar, a former insider turned critic. Polls have suggested the race may be tighter than in past cycles.
“This is not simply about personalities, although personalities color everything,” said Marta Kovács, a math teacher in Debrecen who volunteers on a local election campaign. “It’s about what kind of Hungary people want: closed and protected, or open and messy?”
There is also the wider theatricality of transatlantic politics at play. Last year, Vice President JD Vance delivered a blistering critique of the European Union at Munich; this year, Rubio — often viewed domestically as a more tempered face of Trump-aligned diplomacy — will step into that spotlight. The optics send messages: to Hungary, to Slovakia, to the EU, and to Russia.
Slovakia: echoes and dissonances
In Bratislava, Prime Minister Robert Fico has also found points of sympathy with Trump-era rhetoric. But controversy followed Fico’s reported Florida visit after Politico cited anonymous diplomats saying he had voiced concern about the US president’s mental fitness. Slovakia publicly denied the account, and the episode revealed how quickly a single report can ricochet through diplomatic circles.
Rubio’s meetings in Slovakia are slated to touch on nuclear energy cooperation — a salient issue for Bratislava, which relies on the Mochovce nuclear power plant for a large share of its electricity — as well as military modernization and NATO obligations. For a country that shares a border with Ukraine and has a population of around 5.4 million, those are not academic concerns.
Why this visit matters beyond map lines
Ask yourself: what is the purpose of diplomacy in a time when alliances seem transactional and public trust in institutions is frayed? Is it to calm, to cajole, to prod, or to shore up interests before they calcify into irreconcilable positions?
Rubio’s trip is all of those things. It is a reassurance to allies who worry about the coherence of US policy; it is a bid to keep Hungary and Slovakia anchored to NATO and transatlantic security projects; and it is a reminder that energy and security remain entwined. But it is also a political gesture, audible in the tremor of endorsements and the silence of things unsaid.
“Diplomacy now feels like defusing a chain of small fires,” said Dr. Voros. “Each meeting can prevent a spark from leaping to the next pile of tinder.”
Local voices and the global conversation
Back at the market in Budapest, vendors sell cabbage and kolbász as they always have. An elderly woman, Erzsébet, wrapped in a heavy coat, looked at the newspaper and offered a brittle, wry smile.
“We watch the news like weather,” she said. “We decide whether to carry an umbrella.”
Her metaphor is apt: diplomacy predicts storms and sometimes moves to shelter people. But umbrellas only do so much. The deeper question — the one that ripples out from the cafes of Budapest to the halls of Munich and the corridors of Washington — is whether alliances can reinvent themselves for a world where energy security, populist politics, and shifting loyalties redraw maps faster than institutions can adapt.
When Rubio sits across from ministers in ornate government chambers, he will find polished protocol and raw politics intertwined. Will those meetings push toward practical cooperation — on energy diversification, on NATO modernization, on conflict resolution — or will they simply become another line in a longer narrative of mistrust? The answer will matter not just for diplomats and politicians, but for the families heating their homes, the teachers and shopkeepers, and the cafe owner who just wants consistent customers and less political noise.
So watch the skies. And ask yourself: in the new architecture of 21st-century alliances, who gets to hold the umbrella?
U.S. strike on suspected drug vessel in Pacific leaves two dead
After the Flash: A Morning That Smells of Salt and Questions
The Pacific dawn can be cruel and discreet. One moment the horizon is a smear of pearly light and bobbing fishing boats, the next it is punctured by smoke and silence. That’s what survivors say happened after the latest U.S. strike on a vessel accused of smuggling drugs—an attack that Washington says left two people dead and one clinging to life.
“We heard a boom like a thunderclap at sea and then a smell of burning rubber and diesel,” recalled a fisherman who said he had been three miles away on a small panga when the blast happened. “When we rowed closer, there were pieces of the hull. People were shouting. The ocean was full of oil.”
The U.S. Southern Command, speaking through social channels, described the incident in lean, militarized language: two “narco-terrorists” killed, one survivor rescued—or at least, a survivor whose rescuers were being activated by the Coast Guard. But elsewhere in the Caribbean and along Pacific coasts, the wording matters less than the bodies and the questions that follow: Who was on that boat? What rules justified firing on it in international waters? And how did a strike that began as an anti-narcotics operation become something resembling a low-level, cross-border war?
The Campaign by the Numbers
Since early September, U.S. forces have stepped up a campaign targeting boats they say are moving drugs across the Caribbean and into the Pacific. The strikes have multiplied quickly—38 separate attacks so far, according to U.S. counts, with at least 130 people killed.
Those figures, blunt and unsettling, have become the arithmetic of a new kind of maritime interdiction. They’re also the raw data propelling courtroom arguments: families in the Caribbean have already filed wrongful-death suits against the U.S. government after one October strike that relatives say killed two Trinidadian men.
What Washington Says and What Others See
U.S. officials frame these operations as a part of a broad campaign against criminal networks they label “narco-terrorists.” A senior defense analyst I spoke with—formerly with a U.S. maritime interdiction unit—said bluntly, “From their perspective, these vessels are part of a conveyer belt for drugs that fund violence and instability.”
But evidence presented in public has been thin, and critics accuse the administration of stretching the concept of national defense to justify extraterritorial strikes. “There’s a legal line between self-defense and unlawful use of force,” said a human rights lawyer in Washington who asked to remain off the record. “If you can’t demonstrate an imminent threat, you need a clear legal basis to fire on a vessel mid-ocean.”
Complicating the narrative: U.S. officials have linked this wave of strikes to broader pressure campaigns involving Venezuela, a claim hotly disputed by Caracas and many of its regional allies. Whatever the geopolitical backstory, the result is the same for families and coastal communities—fear, grief, and a demand for answers.
Voices from the Water
In port towns from Trinidad to small Pacific fishing communities, the mood is raw. At a seaside cafe in Port of Spain, a woman wiping a child’s hair said she’d heard the news on the radio and been struck by a single thought. “Do I tell my husband not to go out tomorrow? Are we all targets now because we cross paths with traffickers on the sea?” she asked. “We are small; we make our living from those waters. We don’t want to die for someone else’s war.”
A retired Coast Guard chief who spent decades patrolling the Caribbean told me, “There’s an art to interdiction. You close, board, inspect. You don’t blow up a phantom. If adaptive criminals are using the ocean, authorities must adapt—and lawfulness should not be the casualty.”
On the legal front, the relatives of two men from Trinidad who died in a mid-October strike have filed suit in U.S. courts alleging wrongful death. “We want a day in court,” said one plaintiff’s sister. “We want to know why they thought these men were enemies instead of neighbors.”
Local Color, Global Ripples
To understand the human texture of these strikes, listen to the language of the ports. In many coastal Caribbean communities, the sea is not simply a means of smuggling or commerce—it’s a calendar of festivals, fish, prayers, and migration. Boats bear names like Esperanza and La Vela; fishermen flash steel-blue shirts from the bow, and the markets hum with reggae, parang, and Spanish ballads. A strike in these waters reverberates through rhythms and recipes as much as it does through headlines.
“My cousin was on a boat like any other,” said a cousin of one of the men killed, speaking at a small memorial. “He loved his mother’s callaloo. He was not a headline.”
What This Means Beyond the Waves
There are broader questions here about the intersection of counter-narcotics and counterinsurgency, about the expansion of military tools into realms traditionally regulated by law enforcement. The international community watches nervously. Maritime law scholars note that actions on the high seas implicate longstanding principles of sovereignty and the right to life; states that act unilaterally in far-flung waters risk setting precedents others may follow.
Drug trafficking is a global problem: coca cultivation in parts of South America, demand in North America and Europe, and the complex networks that link producers, brokers, and consumers. The United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime reports that while some interdiction efforts produce seizures, the global market persists and adapts. That adaptability is part of the rationale given by U.S. officials for striking at sea—but adaptability is also what civics and law must temper: how do democracies confront crime without surrendering legal norms?
- At least 38 strikes have been reported in recent months.
- U.S. statements put the death toll at 130.
- Families of victims have begun legal action in U.S. courts.
Questions That Won’t Fade with the Tide
What happens next will tell us a lot about where international norms are headed. Will governments build cooperative, transparent interdiction regimes with clear accountability? Or will oceans become a grey zone where powerful states act on suspicion and communities pay the cost?
For now, the waters are restless and the questions pile up like driftwood on a shore. When a government signs an order to strike, someone is left to sift the debris. When a family wins a court case, a little clarity may come. Until then, those who live by the sea are asking simple, human things: Who will tell the truth? Who will care for the ocean’s dead? And how will we keep the law alive on waters that belong to everyone?
What would you demand if a loved one disappeared on the sea? How should states balance the urgency of stopping illicit trafficking with the obligations of law and human dignity? These are not academic curiosities—they are the questions that families, lawyers, and sailors are bringing ashore every morning.
Mudanayaasha labada aqal ee Baarlamaanka oo maanta ka dooday Cutubka 5aad ee Dastuurka dalka
Feb 10(Jowhar)-Mudanayaasha labada aqal ee Baarlamaanka Jamhuuriyadda Federaalka Soomaaliya ayaa maanta kulan wadajir ah ku yeeshay xarunta Golaha Shacabka, waxaana shir guddoominayey Guddoomiyaha Golaha Shacabka ee Baarlamaanka Dalka Mudane Sheekh Aadan Maxamed Nuur (Madoobe).
Saciid Deni oo ka soo degey garoonka diyaaradaha Aadan Cadde
Feb 10(Jowhar)-Madaxwaynaha Maamulka Puntland saciid Cabdulahi Deni ayaa soo gaaray magaalada Muqdisho kadib muddo afar sano ah.
Starmer says UK government will prioritise easing cost-of-living pressures
The Calm After the Cabinet: Starmer, Sarwar and the Unsettling Business of Power
On a gray Westminster morning, where pigeons braved the square and the flags above Downing Street hung motionless, a political drama that smells faintly of old London corridors played out with new-party choreography.
Keir Starmer—Britain’s prime minister, measured in public and now weathered by fresh scrutiny—stood before his inner circle at a closed political cabinet and delivered a message that was both conciliatory and combative. He pledged to keep “relentless focus on the priorities of the British people,” he said, underlining cost-of-living pressures that still haunt households across the country.
It was the kind of line a leader uses to steady the room: familiar, necessary, and meant to redirect attention. But beneath the composure lay a row that had briefly threatened to unmoor his premiership.
A fissure that became a test
The day before, Anas Sarwar, the leader of Scottish Labour, did something rare: he publicly called on the prime minister to step down. For a national party sensitive to unity ahead of the Scottish Parliament elections in May, the intervention was seismic.
“This isn’t personal. It’s political. We cannot allow distraction to cost Scotland a change in government,” Sarwar told reporters in Glasgow, his voice carrying both urgency and, for some, alarm.
At Westminster, Starmer returned fire not with invective but with a steadier tactic. He thanked his cabinet for standing with him, and, in a public readout, insisted the Labour Party as a whole was behind Sarwar’s ambition to become Scotland’s first minister. It was a curious melding of solidarity and steely resolve: a promise to back Sarwar’s campaign north of the border while refusing to be unseated in London.
Behind the headlines: people, parties and the politics of distraction
The backdrop to this moment is not a single scandal but a messy set of headlines and departures that have rattled Downing Street. Senior aides have left in recent days. Tim Allan resigned as communications chief; Morgan McSweeney’s exit was swiftly followed by promotions: Vidhya Alakeson and Jill Cuthbertson are now joint acting chiefs of staff. Reports also suggest the cabinet secretary, Chris Wormald, may be preparing to bow out.
For many MPs, the calculus was straightforward. One veteran backbencher told me over tea: “We don’t relish palace coups. We want to win elections, not rehearse them in the papers. We were watching for a stampede and none came.”
Conservative leader Kemi Badenoch seized the moment to demand Starmer’s resignation in a column, arguing he had “proved incapable” of prime-ministerial responsibilities. Yet within Labour ranks, there was no mass exodus. That mixed verdict—public worry, private loyalty—has left Starmer tentatively in place, for now.
What locals are saying
Outside the Westminster bubble, the conversations are both practical and pointed. On the high street of Paisley, a commuter named Aileen McKay wiped condensation from her coffee cup and said: “I don’t follow the backroom stuff too closely. My concern is the price of groceries and heating. If politics makes that worse, that’s when I’ll listen.”
In Glasgow’s East End, where many hope Sarwar’s Labour can topple the SNP in May, a council worker named Faisal Ahmed said: “Anas is talking about jobs, schools. If he says Starmer should step down, it’s because he’s thinking of how we win here. But people want leaders who can focus on everyday life.”
Downing Street reshuffle: administrative reboot or crack in the foundation?
Starmer has signalled a desire to make Downing Street “more open and inclusive.” That rhetoric has translated into a rapid re-ordering of the prime minister’s inner office—both a practical necessity after departures and a political signal of reform.
“Organisations reset when trust is shaken,” said Dr. Helena Marks, a political scientist at the London School of Economics. “Promotions from within can indicate continuity, but the loss of senior civil servants and communications chiefs can destabilise a leader trying to show steadiness.”
These personnel moves matter. A chief of staff is the prime minister’s immediate tether to the machine of government, and communications chiefs shape public perception of crises. When those positions turnover quickly, media narratives move in ways that can make leaders look reactive rather than proactive.
Global stage beckons: Munich and beyond
With the immediate internal threat diminished, Starmer plans to travel to the Munich Security Conference at the end of the week—a concentration of foreign ministers, defence chiefs and leaders from across the Atlantic and Europe. The forum arrives as relations among NATO allies and the future of the transatlantic bond face intense scrutiny.
“He’ll need to pivot quickly from domestic turbulence to global seriousness,” said Tomas Weber, a security analyst. “International partners watch stability closely. A leader under siege at home does not inspire confidence abroad.”
The bigger picture: leadership, accountability and the public mood
This episode is about more than personalities. It’s about how modern democracies manage leadership crises in an era of viral headlines and instant speculation. It raises questions about loyalty versus accountability, the relationship between national and regional wings of a party, and how short-term controversies can derail long-term agendas—especially when voters are worried about money in their pockets.
Cost of living remains the top concern for many households in Britain. Energy bills, food prices and housing costs have dominated public anxiety since the economic shocks of the last few years. Whatever of the palace intrigue, voters will judge parties on whether they deliver day-to-day security.
So what should we make of it? Is this a sign of a party robust enough to thrive on debate, or brittle enough to fracture at the first sign of trouble? And for voters: can leaders be both disciplined and human enough to weather scandals without becoming unmoored from the issues that matter?
Key developments at a glance
- Keir Starmer chaired a political cabinet and declared Labour unity behind Anas Sarwar’s bid for Scottish first minister.
- Anas Sarwar publicly called for the prime minister to resign, citing the distraction he feared would harm Labour’s prospects in Scotland.
- Senior aides have departed Downing Street; Vidhya Alakeson and Jill Cuthbertson are joint acting chiefs of staff.
- The prime minister plans to attend the Munich Security Conference as international concerns continue to mount.
As the story evolves, keep an eye on the people whose lives are shaped by these decisions—the shopkeepers, nurses, bus drivers and teachers who place bread on their tables and expect government to be steady enough to help. Politics may seem to live in Westminster’s ornate rooms, but it lands in kitchens, classrooms and workplaces every day.
What would you want your leaders to be doing right now: standing firm, cleaning house, or stepping aside? The answer may shape Britain’s path to the May elections—and beyond.
Axmed Madoobe oo soo gaaray magaalada Muqdisho
Feb 10(Jowhar)-Madaxweynaha maamulka Jubaland Axmed Maxamed islaam ayaa ka soo degey garoonka diyaaradaha Aadan Cadde ee magaalada Muqdisho,isagoo ay garoonka ku soo dhaweeyeen masuuliyiin ay ka mdi yihiin xildhibaano.
UN peacekeepers set to withdraw most forces from Lebanon by mid-2027
The quiet before departure: a mission that became a country’s thread
There is a particular hush that settles over Camp Shamrock at dusk — a silence stitched together from boots, the distant clatter of a generator and the long, slow exhale of the Mediterranean. For nearly half a century the United Nations Interim Force in Lebanon has been that hush for parts of southern Lebanon: a human buffer standing between two adversaries, a daily reminder that some conflicts require a constant, living presence to keep worse things at bay.
Now, those boots are being asked to step back. UNIFIL, the peacekeeping mission that has tangibly shaped life along Lebanon’s southern frontier, plans to withdraw most of its uniformed personnel by mid-2027, with the final curtain drawn by year’s end, a UN spokesperson told reporters. The mission’s official mandate expires at the end of December 2026 after a Security Council decision last year — one heavily influenced by pressure from Washington and Jerusalem — that called for “an orderly and safe drawdown and withdrawal” within a year.
What UNIFIL has meant — and what leaving will feel like
Walk through any of the southern border towns and you’ll see the mission’s footprint: sandbagged observation posts, UN blue helmets in markets, the Irish tricolour on uniforms and a guard of honour at Camp Shamrock when Ireland’s Taoiseach visited in December 2025. For many Lebanese, UNIFIL has been a symbol of continuity, the most visible thread of a complicated international relationship with their own security.
“We used to know when the blue helmets changed shift,” said Ali, a fisherman from Naqoura, watching nets being mended on the shore. “They were there when shells fell in 2006 and when there was calm afterward. It’s not just about soldiers — it’s about knowing someone is watching.”
UNIFIL currently counts roughly 7,500 peacekeepers from 48 countries, including around 300 Irish troops — making Ireland’s involvement one of the mission’s longest and most personal commitments. But this winter the force has already trimmed its ranks by almost 2,000, with a couple hundred more slated to depart in the spring. The United Nations has pointed to an organisation-wide financial squeeze as the immediate driver behind those cuts, framing them as cost-savings rather than political repositioning.
From ceasefires to skirmishes: the fragile calm
Lebanon’s border with Israel has rarely been a place of untroubled peace. The current lull traces back to a ceasefire brokered in November 2024 following more than a year of fierce exchanges between Israel and Hezbollah, an Iran-backed Lebanese militia and political faction. The 2006 UN resolution that underpinned UNIFIL’s original mandate remains the legal lodestar for monitoring violations — but enforcement, in practice, has looked uneven.
“We’ve had periods of relative quiet and periods when our personnel were taking fire,” said Kandice Ardiel, a UNIFIL spokesperson, in a briefing. “After operations cease on 31 December, we begin the process of sending UNIFIL personnel and equipment home and transferring our UN positions to the Lebanese authorities. During that drawdown, our authorised activities will necessarily be limited to protecting UN personnel and overseeing a safe departure.”
That admission — of limited authority in the final months — has left many locals and diplomats uneasy. Israeli forces have continued targeted strikes they say are aimed at Hezbollah, and Israeli troops remain in five border areas. UNIFIL itself has repeatedly reported instances of Israeli fire at or near its personnel since the truce, underscoring the fragile reality of a ceasefire that can be punctured in an instant.
Local color: food, faith and everyday life under blue helmets
To understand what UNIFIL’s presence means on the ground, taste matters as much as troop numbers. In the market squares near the front line, women sell trays of warm manakish sprinkled with zaatar, hands moving like a choreography learned in childhood. Boys in rugby shirts kick a battered ball beneath watchful eyes. In the evenings, soldiers from Italy, France, Ghana and Ireland share tea and stories with shopkeepers, trading laughter in a dozen languages.
“We gave them lemons one year when the harvest was poor,” laughed Maryam, a local grocer. “They still talk about how they made lemonade for all the children.” Small acts like that have become the mission’s human ledger — accruing goodwill that official reports rarely capture.
Who will fill the gap? The politics of replacement
As UNIFIL retreats, Lebanese authorities have made it clear they do not want the south left unguarded. Beirut has been pressing European partners to maintain some sort of international presence, even in limited numbers, to prevent a vacuum that might embolden non-state actors or trigger new confrontations.
France’s foreign minister visited Beirut this month and suggested the Lebanese army should be prepared to assume greater responsibility when the UN departs. Italy has also signalled its intention to keep a military presence in Lebanon after UNIFIL leaves.
“The Lebanese army is professional and has shown resilience,” said Major-General Antoine Lebrun, a retired military analyst based in Paris. “But the transition from international peacekeepers to national forces is not just a matter of boots. It’s about logistics, intelligence sharing, rules of engagement and the political will to enforce them.”
Choices that ripple beyond borders
This is a story about withdrawal, yes, but also about the shifting nature of peacekeeping in an era of constrained budgets and rising geopolitical tension. The UN’s decision to end UNIFIL’s mandate — and the subsequent drawdown driven partly by financial pressure — raises difficult questions for the wider international community.
What responsibility do powerful states have to backstop fragile post-conflict arrangements when they push for an exit? What happens to communities who have grown used to the quiet delivered by foreign troops? And, perhaps more unsettling: can any external force prevent a return to escalation when the underlying drivers — weapons, ideology, cross-border rivalries — remain?
Looking ahead
In the months to come, the small towns and olive groves that dot Lebanon’s south will become a testing ground for these questions. Will the Lebanese army be able to parity the presence and perceived neutrality that UNIFIL represented? Will European partners step in where the UN recedes? Or will the void be filled by the very dynamics that brought peacekeepers to the line in the first place?
“We sleep with one eye open here,” said Rami, a schoolteacher in a border village. “Not because we are militant people, but because history has taught us to be watchful. I hope those leaving are replaced by something steady — not just another short chapter in a long story.”
There is a melancholy in that hope: equal parts gratitude for decades of protection and anxiety about the future. As the Mediterranean sun drops behind Hizballah’s lines and the UN flags flutter their last, the questions the mission leaves behind will demand answers that are political, local and painfully human.
- UNIFIL personnel: ~7,500 from 48 countries
- Irish peacekeepers: ~300
- Mandate expiry: 31 December 2026
- Planned substantial withdrawal completion: mid-2027; full drawdown by end-2027
What do you think: can a national army step seamlessly into a peacekeeper’s shoes, or does true stability rely on wider international investment and imagination? The people of southern Lebanon will soon have to answer — whether at the polling station, at the negotiating table, or simply, in the daily act of living through another dawn.
Diyaarad rakaab ah oo shil ku gashay garoonka Aadan Cadde
Feb 10(Jowhar)-Diyaarad rayid oo ku sii jeeday magaalada Gaalkacyo ayaa waxyar ka hor shil ku gashay ku garoonka diyaaradaha Muqdisho.
Ra’iisul Wasaare Xamsa Cabdi oo kormeer ku tegey Garoonka Diyaaradaha Aadan Cadde
Feb 10(Jowhar)-Ra’iisul Wasaaraha Xukuumadda Jamhuuriyadda Federaalka Soomaaliya, Mudane Xamsa Cabdi Barre, ayaa maanta kormeer shaqo ku tagay Garoonka Diyaaradaha Caalamiga ah ee Aadan Cabdulle ee caasimadda Muqdisho, si uu qiimeeyn ugu sameeyo heerka adeegyada kala duwan ee loo fidinayo bulshada Soomaaliyeed iyo sida ay u shaqeynayaan hay’adaha ka hawlgala garoonka.
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