Militant shelling exposes Mogadishu’s crumbling stability as Turkey and UAE wage covert power war over Somalia’s future.

Al-Shabaab’s mortar attack on the Halane Base Camp highlights a deeper crisis: Somalia’s leadership is caught between Turkish and Emirati pressure as the country’s fragile sovereignty buckles under foreign interference.

On Tuesday morning, mortar fire echoed through Mogadishu as Al-Shabaab militants launched a brazen attack on the heavily guarded Halane Base Camp, home to the United Nations, Western embassies, and African Union forces. Six shells rained down, shaking one of the most fortified zones in East Africa, as the Al-Qaeda-affiliated group once again reminded the world that Somalia remains dangerously unstable despite international presence and promises of progress.

But this wasn’t just another attack. It was a warning shot in a much bigger war—one not just waged by jihadists, but by two regional superpowers Turkey and the United Arab Emirates, whose geopolitical chess match is now threatening to destroy what’s left of Somalia’s central government.

While Somali authorities stayed silent on casualties, Al-Shabaab quickly claimed credit. Their aim is no longer just terrorism—it’s strategic disruption. With President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud politically weakened, the terror group senses opportunity. And they’re not alone.

Turkey and the UAE are tearing Somalia apart from within. Ankara has reportedly suspended security assistance to the Somali National Army, demanding that Villa Somalia cancel all prior cooperation agreements with Abu Dhabi. In retaliation, the Emirates are threatening to cut the salaries of thousands of Somali troops, unless Mogadishu voids the oil exploration deal it signed with Turkey.

Somalia’s sovereignty is now collateral damage in a proxy war over ports, oil, and political loyalty. The Turks control training camps, military bases, and increasingly Somali airspace.

Meanwhile, Al-Shabaab thrives in the chaos. The mortars falling on Halane are a symptom of a deeper sickness: a capital city where decisions are made not by Somalis, but by foreign generals and foreign oil companies.

President Hassan Sheikh’s days appear numbered. With elections looming and public trust evaporating, Villa Somalia is not only vulnerable to insurgent fire but to diplomatic blackmail.

This is no longer about rebuilding Somalia—it’s about who owns it. And right now, the vultures are circling.

Al-Shabaab’s mortar shells may have rocked Halane, but the bigger explosion is political. Somalia’s future is being auctioned off between Turkey and the UAE, and Al-Shabaab is just capitalizing on the chaos. If Mogadishu continues down this path, the real question is not who governs Somalia—but whether there will be anything left to govern.

Jimmy Carter’s obsessive diplomacy birthed a fragile but historic Middle East peace deal—what Trump and today’s leaders must learn from Camp David.

Jimmy Carter didn’t just broker peace between Israel and Egypt—he redefined presidential diplomacy by fusing moral conviction with tactical obsession.

While most presidents shield themselves from messy global crises, Carter grabbed the Middle East’s most volatile conflict by the horns. He gambled everything—his presidency, reputation, even U.S. strategic leverage—to force Israel’s Menachem Begin and Egypt’s Anwar Sadat into a reluctant historic truce. Unlike his successors, he didn’t hide behind envoys. He locked world leaders in a forest cabin, memorized every inch of Sinai topography, read psychological profiles like a spy chief, and wrote the damn treaty himself.

The result? The first Arab country recognized Israel, forever redrawing regional politics. But Carter’s legacy also comes with a caution: the deal’s second act—Palestinian autonomy—was gutted by legal vagueness and Begin’s bad faith. It was a triumph with a ticking bomb underneath. Begin got the Nobel. Sadat got assassinated.

Today, as Trump eyes a Saudi-Israel mega-deal and Gaza burns, Carter’s ghost looms large. Trump wants a Camp David-style splash—complete with Arab recognition and a sidelined Iran. But here’s the Carter doctrine he must understand: there is no real deal without Palestinian dignity, no lasting pact without sacrifice from all sides, and no breakthrough without a U.S. leader willing to bleed political capital.

Camp David wasn’t clean. It was human, high-stakes, and raw—equal parts threat, charm, and chess. It reminds us that peace is not made by summits or selfies, but by presidents who risk everything in rooms without cameras.

Carter played for history. Who’s ready to do that now?

Trump marvels at Qatar and Saudi luxury, eyes Air Force One upgrade and $100M White House ballroom makeover to rival Gulf opulence.

On his Middle East tour, Trump praises Gulf monarchs’ lavish lifestyles, criticizes Air Force One, and vows Mar-a-Lago-style upgrades to White House. Aesthetic envy or strategic diplomacy?

Donald Trump may command the most powerful office on Earth, but in Riyadh and Doha, he’s acting more like a dazzled guest than the leader of the free world. Surrounded by gold-plated thrones, marble palaces, and fighter jet escorts, Trump isn’t just soaking in the splendor—he wants it back home. And fast.

“This is what they call perfecto,” he gushed, admiring the marble at Qatar’s Amiri Diwan palace. It was just the beginning. The camels, the trees, the “not a thing out of place” landscaping—it all fed into a broader obsession: that America’s presidential trappings no longer match its status.

From complaining about the age of Air Force One to hinting at accepting Qatar’s gift of a shiny 747, Trump is blending diplomacy with a kind of aesthetic arms race. In his mind, Qatar and Saudi Arabia are outshining Washington—and he wants to catch up.

Trump now talks openly of paving over the Rose Garden with stone, replacing tents with a $100 million ballroom, and installing “gorgeous gold” across the White House. His Oval Office already bears signs of transformation: golden arches, gilded fireplace trims, and a concealed Declaration of Independence he dramatically unveils to visitors.

This lavish taste clashes with America’s founding ideals. The republic once prided itself on simplicity—at least in appearance. But Trump, with Mar-a-Lago modeled on Versailles and a penthouse wrapped in gold leaf, represents a different vision: one where presidential power is matched with royal-level opulence.

Critics will see vanity. But there’s also strategy. Trump’s admiration signals alignment with Gulf monarchies flush with cash and eager for American partnership. As he eyes a reconfigured global order—where Saudi, Qatari, and Emirati influence soars—he’s making it clear: he’s not just watching; he’s competing.

And if that means Air Force One gets a gold-plated makeover, so be it.

Amid Trump’s shifting stance on Ukraine, a new deal grants the U.S. a stake in rare earths while securing Kyiv’s military hopes. Is this peace through partnership or exploitation? 

The Trump administration has secured direct access to Ukraine’s coveted rare earth mineral reserves through a newly signed U.S.-Ukraine Reinvestment Fund. Framed as a strategic alliance for “peace and prosperity,” this deal signals far more than a diplomatic gesture—it’s a calculated transaction at the heart of a grinding, unresolved war.

Announced on Wednesday, the agreement is thin on public details but thick in implication. The U.S. now has preferential entry to Ukraine’s mineral wealth—resources crucial to advanced technologies and global supply chains. In return, Kyiv locks in future American military and financial support, even as Trump’s public disdain for Zelenskyy and frustration with the war’s stalemate grow louder.

“This is about getting something back for the money,” Trump bluntly told NewsNation, framing the deal as a hedge against being “made to look foolish.” It’s transactional diplomacy—peace with a profit margin.

Behind the scenes, the agreement salvages what was nearly lost in a chaotic Oval Office meeting months earlier. Trump, flanked by Vice President JD Vance, had nearly scuttled a similar proposal, berating Zelenskyy for not surrendering Crimea and blaming him for prolonging the war. But now, amid increasing tensions with Putin and a flurry of deadly strikes on Kyiv, Trump appears to have recalibrated.

The deal, however, isn’t just a carrot—it’s leverage. With rare earths on the line, Washington now holds a tangible stake in Ukraine’s postwar reconstruction and future sovereignty. For Kyiv, the optics are clear: America is investing not only in Ukraine’s victory, but in its minerals, its land, and its long-term reconstruction roadmap.

Critics might call it neocolonial, a resource-for-weapons exchange that echoes the 20th century. Supporters will argue it’s realpolitik at its finest—tying U.S. interests to Ukraine’s survival, and keeping Russia at bay with more than words.

The reality? Ukraine’s rare earths are now part of the global power chessboard. And Trump is making sure America plays to win.

The decision by the United States to grant refugee status to at least 54 white South Africans—Afrikaners—has triggered confusion, outrage, and applause, depending on who you ask. Set to arrive in Washington on May 12, the group represents the first wave under a Trump-era executive order that cites “discrimination, violent rhetoric, and land expropriation without compensation” as justification.

But the facts are murkier. While South Africa’s land reform bill does permit land seizures under certain conditions, no land has been seized. The law is legally constrained, targeting underused or unsafe property, not specific racial groups. Yet Trump’s administration frames the issue as ethnic persecution, pointing to South Africa’s opposition to US-Israel policy and renewed ties with Iran as additional justification.

Behind the scenes, this move may be more about optics than humanitarian concern. Refugee vetting typically takes 18–24 months, but the Afrikaners’ process appears to have been fast-tracked, raising questions about political motives and selective empathy in America’s refugee policy.

Critics argue this reflects a double standard: thousands of vulnerable people—including war survivors from Sudan, Syria, and Afghanistan—have had their cases delayed or denied. And while Trump paints Afrikaners as an oppressed minority, South Africa remains one of the most unequal societies on Earth, where white South Africans—just 7% of the population—still dominate land and corporate wealth.

The symbolism of “refugee” status matters. It reframes powerful landowners into victims, while ignoring structural imbalances rooted in apartheid’s legacy. Some analysts warn this could embolden white nationalist narratives in both South Africa and the West.

This isn’t just an immigration story. It’s about history, politics, race, and who gets to claim victimhood in a deeply divided global order.

Moscow unveils combat drones at Victory Day parade as Putin and Xi signal deepening military and diplomatic alignment.

As the drums rolled and formations clicked into step, the true message from Moscow’s Red Square on Victory Day wasn’t nostalgia—it was a future shaped by drones, diplomacy, and defiance. The first-ever display of combat drones, used ruthlessly in Ukraine, coincided with a visit by China’s President Xi Jinping, Russia’s highest-profile ally. It wasn’t just a parade. It was a warning shot to the West.

Steel and Silence: The Drone Debut

For the first time, Russia paraded the Lancet, Geran-2, Orlan-10, and Orlan-30 drones, combat-tested in Ukraine, in front of world leaders. The ZALA Lancet, a loitering kamikaze drone, has targeted Ukrainian tanks and even aircraft. The Geran-2, modeled after Iranian Shahed drones, has crippled Ukraine’s energy infrastructure—and, according to Kyiv, residential buildings too.

Russian state TV, usually careful with military disclosures, openly acknowledged the drones’ battlefield utility, signaling pride rather than secrecy.

Xi’s Visit: No Longer Just a Guest, But a Partner

Seated beside Putin, Xi Jinping was not merely an honored guest—he was a strategic equal. As the West recoils from Russia, China is stepping closer, cementing a new axis of power that is as economic as it is military.

The presence of Chinese troops in the parade, the handshake between Putin and North Korean officers, and planned agreements on energy, defense, and infrastructure paint a clear picture: The anti-Western coalition is not hypothetical—it’s operational.

Bilateral trade between Russia and China has soared to $245 billion, while discussions over the Power of Siberia 2 gas pipeline signal deeper energy interdependence. Every handshake and signature on Red Square echoed like a cannon blast toward Brussels and Washington.

Putin’s Narrative: The Ghosts of 1945, The Drones of 2025

In his address, Putin tethered past heroism to present conflict, invoking the Allied victory over Nazism while justifying the war in Ukraine. “We honor the memory of WWII, and we support those defending our motherland today,” he declared, equating his troops in Donbas with the soldiers of Stalingrad.

To many, this is cynical historical revisionism. Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky called the parade a ‘march of bile and lies’, accusing Moscow of weaponizing nostalgia to justify modern-day aggression.

But to the audience on Red Square—including leaders from China, North Korea, Brazil, and several African states—the message was something different: Russia is not isolated. It is evolving.

Global Implications: This Is No Longer a Proxy War

With North Korean troops assisting Russia in its western Kursk region, and Chinese missiles and drones circulating on battlefields, Ukraine is no longer a local war. It’s a prototype for future global confrontation.

The showcasing of these drones—particularly the Geran-2, allegedly enhanced with Chinese tech—suggests tighter battlefield coordination between Beijing and Moscow than previously acknowledged. As Iran develops its influence through weapons, and North Korea joins Russian regional defense, the world watches what may be the embryonic form of a new military bloc.

Conclusion: Drones Now, Alliances Forever

The 80th anniversary of Nazi Germany’s defeat was supposed to be about remembrance. Instead, it became a rehearsal for a different kind of war—one fought with drones, alliances, and digital propaganda.

For the West, the message is chilling: while you debate sanctions, your adversaries parade solidarity.

The geriatric tanks of Cold War parades are gone, replaced by humming drones and precision weapons. And standing beside them are not Cold War relics, but world leaders shaping what could become a 21st-century axis.

Red Square has spoken. The question now: who’s listening?

As world leaders gather for Putin’s Victory Day parade, Kyiv’s drones strike deep into Russia’s capital in a calculated display of defiance.

On the eve of Putin’s biggest military spectacle, Ukrainian drones attacked Moscow, sending a chilling message to visiting leaders, including China’s Xi Jinping.

Ukraine just sent its most explosive diplomatic message yet — not through speeches, but through the sky.

With Xi Jinping preparing to walk Red Square alongside Vladimir Putin, at least 19 Ukrainian drones pierced the skies over Moscow, marking the second consecutive night of air incursions ahead of Russia’s most sacred military holiday: Victory Day. While Russia’s defense ministry claimed it intercepted over 100 drones across its airspace, the psychological victory clearly belongs to Ukraine.

This is no accident. The timing is precision warfare. Kyiv’s drone blitz is aimed not just at military disruption, but geopolitical humiliation. Xi, Lula, To Lam, and Lukashenko will now parade through a capital on edge, a city that just moments ago scrambled jets and halted flights in panic. The symbolism is potent: even Russia’s fortress capital is not safe.

Putin’s fragile narrative — a return to glory, showcased through tanks, flags, and loyal allies — is crumbling under the weight of buzzing Ukrainian drones and a war that shows no sign of resolution. And Kyiv isn’t playing along. Zelensky refused to sugarcoat Putin’s three-day “ceasefire charade,” dismissing it as a political maneuver to dazzle international guests. His message to global leaders attending the parade was blunt: “We cannot be responsible for what happens in Russian territory.”

The Kremlin calls it a threat. But to many watching, it’s strategy. Ukraine is shifting the battlefield — from trenches to towers, from frozen frontlines to diplomatic forums. The drone attack comes days after Ukraine downed a Russian Su-30 with a sea drone, and after reports surfaced of Ukrainian fighters still operating inside Russia’s Kursk region.

And now, the elephant in the room: China. Zelensky has publicly accused Beijing of aiding Moscow, claiming captured Chinese fighters on Ukrainian soil. Beijing denies it, but the ambiguity is growing. For Xi to stand next to Putin while missiles fall near Moscow’s airport raises serious questions — and risks.

In this high-stakes chess match, Ukraine just flipped the board. Victory Day may still proceed, but its message has been hijacked. No missile in a parade can outshine the shock of real ones falling from the sky.

As Houthi missiles pound near Tel Aviv, Israel faces a hard truth: Only Israeli retaliation can stop Iranian-backed terror from Yemen.

After a missile evades U.S.-Israeli defenses and hits near Ben Gurion Airport, it’s clear: Israel must stop relying on Trump’s strikes and go full force against the Houthis.

The fourth Houthi missile in three days didn’t just crash near Israel’s most critical airport — it shattered the illusion that America’s strikes alone can protect Israeli airspace. As sirens wailed and smoke rose near Ben Gurion Airport, it became painfully obvious: Israel cannot afford to subcontract its national security to even its closest ally.

The Houthis are no longer a distant Yemeni nuisance — they are Tehran’s armed tentacle, striking Israel’s heart with impunity. Eight wounded, flights canceled, airspace panicked. The missile — possibly Iranian-engineered, possibly intercepted too late — left a crater near Terminal 3, a stone’s throw from Israel’s aviation nerve center. That’s not just a hit. It’s a message.

And what has Israel done? Watched. Waited. Outsourced retaliation to the U.S., even as Trump’s 700 drone and airstrikes fail to dismantle the Houthi war machine. Yes, the Houthis are bleeding. But they’re not broken. Not even close.

Defense Minister Israel Katz said those who strike Israel will be “hit sevenfold.” So far, that’s just talk. The Houthis have already crossed every red line. They’ve targeted civilian infrastructure. They’ve turned the Red Sea into a battleground. And now they’re threatening Israel’s very sovereignty with daily ballistic provocations.

Let’s be honest, Yemen’s so-called government has zero control. Iran’s Houthi proxies are the regime. And every time Israel delays retaliation, it tells Tehran that Israel’s deterrence is up for negotiation.

No more waiting for green lights from Washington. No more outsourced airstrikes. No more diplomatic excuses. Israel has the most advanced air force in the region and decades of battlefield intelligence. It’s time to use it.

Because no country — no sovereign, democratic nation — would accept missiles raining down on its airports without unleashing fire and steel in return. Israel’s silence is no longer strategic. It’s dangerous.

And now the mission must be clear: Cripple the Houthis. Cripple their supply lines. Cripple the ports they use. Cripple the Iranian military advisors embedded with them. If Israel wants peace, it must first deal out devastating war — not later, not when America gives the nod, but now.

This is not a time for restraint. This is a time to roar.