Somalia’s own soldiers are assassinating their commanders, selling Somalia’s energy blocks to the highest bidder. Somalia now faces its most dangerous turning point since 1991. Al-Shabaab is raising flags in major towns while the Somali government sinks deeper into chaos, selling off resources and scapegoating enemies.

Is the capital next? 

Somalia isn’t slipping. It’s spiraling. The once fragile federal experiment is now visibly shattering—under the weight of incompetence, corruption, and political betrayal.

Mogadishu’s leadership, led by President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud, is flailing at the helm. Al-Shabaab grows bolder by the day, releasing prisoners, raising flags, and walking through military bases unchallenged. In a horrifying echo of Afghanistan, Somalia’s own soldiers are assassinating their commanders, and U.S. diplomats are being evacuated. Even the president himself narrowly escaped an ambush. This is no longer counterinsurgency. This is collapse management.

Desperate for Western attention, Hassan Sheikh has chosen a tactic that reeks of neo-colonial pandering: selling Somalia’s energy blocks to the highest bidder, offering the country’s last resources to Trump-linked interests in the hope of buying security. His ambassador’s bizarre social media auction of Somalia’s oil was less diplomacy than a digital clearance sale of a broken state. The response? Silence in Washington. Chaos in the capital.

Meanwhile, Turkish boots are on Somali soil, drones fly overhead, and the African Union’s peacekeepers are now smeared as al-Shabaab sympathizers by Somali officials trying to dodge accountability. Puntland and Jubaland have already walked out of Hassan’s electoral circus. The remaining federal structure is now a skeleton of legitimacy—held together by the optics of registration drives and donor meetings.

And as al-Shabaab captures Aadan Yabaal—the president’s own hometown—Somalis wake up asking a question they hoped they’d never need to again: Can Mogadishu fall?

Somalia has failed at the elite level. Hassan’s government blames everyone—Egypt, Ethiopia, the AU, even UN diplomats—except itself. It ignores the internal rot, the patronage system, the militarized nepotism, and the utter lack of coherent national strategy.

The result? Al-Shabaab no longer hides. It governs. And the state no longer fights back. It tweets.

Quo vadis, Somalia?
Downward. Fast. Unless something radical, honest, and painfully overdue changes now.

Turkey Boots on the Ground: Is Mogadishu Being Outsourced?

Turkish boots on the ground in Mogadishu while Al-Shabaab silently takes over 4 districts. Somalia’s leaders play musical chairs—while militants walk into government offices unopposed. WARYATV exposes the ugly truth.

Erdogan’s Ottoman Hustle: How Turkey Is Playing Trump to Crush American Business in Africa

As Al-Shabaab quietly seizes control of districts, 2,500 Turkish soldiers land—who’s really in charge now?

As Turkish troops land in Mogadishu under a security agreement, Al-Shabaab expands its stealth control. WARYATV investigates the dangerous delusion gripping Somalia’s leadership.

Two Turkish military aircraft touched down in Mogadishu, unloading up to 500 troops—with expectations that number could balloon beyond 2,500. Turkey frames this as counterterrorism cooperation. The truth? Somalia’s so-called “sovereignty” is being subcontracted out while its own leadership collapses from within.

This isn’t partnership. It’s occupation through invitation. While Turkish warplanes bomb Al-Shabaab hideouts, militants are effortlessly patrolling four major Mogadishu districts without resistance—seizing government files, walking into local offices, and telling security guards, “Be back at your post tomorrow.”

Dayniile. Hilwa. Dharkaleey. Gubadleey.
All are now nocturnally governed by Al-Shabaab—without a single shot fired.

Sources within Western military intelligence confirm what the world refuses to admit: the capital is falling in slow motion, and it’s being covered up with press releases about international cooperation.

President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud is already preparing to scapegoat his NISA director and army chief—rumored to be replaced by political loyalists with zero tactical credibility. It’s a page ripped straight from Kabul before the Taliban sweep. The same air of denial. The same security theatrics. The same doomed outcome.

And while Turkish troops march in to supposedly help, Prime Minister Hamse Barre diverts attention with a staged visit to Las Anod—reigniting internal tensions instead of addressing the slow-motion collapse in Mogadishu. It’s all a distraction from a grim truth: Al-Shabaab is winning not by firepower—but by strategy, infiltration, and the cowardice of Somalia’s leadership.

This is no longer a counterinsurgency.
This is Somalia outsourced, Somali leadership imploding, and Al-Shabaab adapting faster than its enemies.

In a thunderous constitutional address, Somaliland’s president halts talks with Mogadishu and unveils a bold national security, defense, and recognition strategy. 

President Abdirahman Mohamed Abdullahi Irro just drew a red line—and the world heard it. In a fiery constitutional address before Somaliland’s Parliament, he didn’t just condemn the Somali Prime Minister’s provocative visit to Las Anod. He escalated the narrative: Somalia has waged war on Somaliland. And Hargeisa is done playing nice.

The speech marked a pivot from patience to power. Irro announced the official suspension of all dialogue with Mogadishu, slamming Hamse Abdi Barre’s visit as an act of war. It’s not diplomacy anymore—this is deterrence.

Irro’s war doctrine is now crystal clear:

Military consolidation and civilian nationalization into a streamlined, modernized force.

Creation of a reserve army equipped with enhanced training and “modern knowledge.”

Justice reform for national unity and legal trust.

A 19% economic surge during his administration, now parlayed into investment talks.

But Irro isn’t just beefing up bullets—he’s upgrading borders diplomatically. In perhaps the most strategic shift of his presidency, Somaliland is strengthening bilateral engagements with Washington, London, and the UAE. The UAE will fund roads, education, agriculture, and livestock infrastructure, confirming that Somaliland is open for business—even if the world hasn’t recognized it yet.

And while Somalia plays internal sabotage, Somaliland courts foreign allies. The U.S. is helping advance national interests, the UK is assisting security efforts, and Irro is making direct visits to Djibouti and Ethiopia—neighbors vital to both regional stability and recognition diplomacy.

At home, Irro has launched a governance campaign rooted in popular legitimacy. Meetings with civil society, youth, and elders are building the case that Somaliland’s nationhood is not a government agenda—it’s a national consensus.

The message from Cirro is thunderous: We will defend our land, modernize our forces, court our allies, and abandon meaningless talks. Recognition is no longer a request—it’s a destiny forged by force, diplomacy, and economic might.

Ceasefire talks teeter as Trump issues ultimatum, Russia pushes land-for-peace gambit, and Ukraine braces for betrayal. 

Trump’s ultimatum has detonated the illusion of unity in the West’s Ukraine policy. Standing behind the Resolute Desk, the U.S. president issued a stunning warning: if Ukraine or Russia stalls peace talks, “we’re going to say you’re fools, you’re horrible people” and walk away. What sounds like another Trumpism is in fact a strategic gut-punch — one that could upend the fragile diplomatic theater surrounding Ukraine’s war for survival.

At stake is nothing less than America’s role as broker of peace — or as Kyiv increasingly fears, broker of surrender. Trump’s frustration mirrors that of Secretary of State Marco Rubio, who bluntly stated the U.S. could walk away within days if Moscow and Kyiv remain at odds. Behind the scenes, the White House is reportedly weighing a concession on Crimea, the holy grail of Putin’s neo-imperial dream and a red line for Zelenskyy.

This is more than impatience; it’s strategic coercion. By threatening to abandon the process, Trump is forcing Ukraine’s hand to accept a land-for-peace deal that would normalize Russia’s illegal annexations. It’s realpolitik in its rawest form — pressure Kyiv into “starting from reality,” as Macron’s office euphemistically put it, or risk isolation. Meanwhile, Moscow’s call for an “Easter truce” — a PR stunt undermined by drone attacks — is just more Kremlin theater.

Yet Trump’s tactic is working. Macron, Vance, even London are cautiously echoing his tone. Ukraine’s position of zero territorial compromise is now seen in some Western capitals as naive idealism in a war fatigue era. The prisoner exchange, however symbolic, cannot conceal the deeper fracture emerging in transatlantic solidarity.

Trump may not start new wars, but he will end old ones — even if that means legitimizing Putin’s land grabs. Washington’s patience has limits, and Trump is counting down the clock.

Europe’s threats to slap Big Tech with a digital tax are more smoke than fire—Trump knows it, Silicon Valley knows it, and so does Berlin.

Ursula von der Leyen’s saber-rattling over Big Tech taxes may sound like a bold act of defiance against Donald Trump’s verbal assault on Europe. But beneath the tough talk, her digital tax offensive is looking more like a well-scripted bluff than an actual policy pivot.

Brussels wants to impose a levy on U.S. tech firms’ advertising revenues if trade talks collapse. But here’s the uncomfortable truth: the EU doesn’t have the legal, economic, or political muscle to make it stick—especially when Germany, Ireland, and Silicon Valley’s European proxies aren’t on board.

First, there’s no solid path to implementation. EU tax changes require unanimous support from all 27 member states. Good luck getting Ireland—home to Meta, Apple, and Google’s European HQs—to sign on to a plan that would torch its corporate tax revenue. With 10 companies making up 60% of Ireland’s corporate tax take, Dublin has every incentive to resist.

Even von der Leyen’s backup plan—to use the Anti-Coercion Instrument (ACI) as a legal workaround—is shaky. Most tech giants are already based in the EU. You can’t use the “foreign coercion” card when the companies you’re targeting pay taxes and employ thousands inside the bloc.

Second, Europe has no real digital alternative. Strip away the bravado, and European businesses are still hooked on U.S. platforms for everything from cloud storage to AI services. Any retaliatory tax would likely rebound on EU consumers and companies.

Third, Trump’s administration isn’t playing nice. It sees Europe’s tax threats as protectionist bluster and is preparing to retaliate with tariffs. A trade war would slam European economies already wobbling under inflation and sluggish growth. The ECB has warned that a tariff showdown could wipe 0.5% off eurozone GDP. That’s a recession trigger.

So why is von der Leyen doing this? Simple: she’s trying to bait Trump into the negotiating room. Like any seasoned Brussels insider, she knows Trump wants a deal. But this is poker, not policy.

Bottom line? This isn’t taxation—it’s negotiation theater. But the stakes are real. Escalation could backfire spectacularly. In the digital arms race, Europe still holds a feather.

From aid slash to embassy closures, Trump’s policy shift could ignite a diplomatic vacuum China is ready to fill.

Trump’s “America First” Africa policy is gutting aid, shuttering embassies, and demanding raw deals. Critics say it’s reckless. Supporters call it a long-overdue reset.

Donald Trump’s foreign policy toward Africa is no longer a mystery—it’s a warning shot. The continent once viewed as a strategic partner in global development is now being treated by the Trump White House as expendable, chaotic, and transactional.

Gone are the days of idealistic aid and quiet diplomacy. In their place: canceled health programs, closed embassies, and threats of visa bans. The dismantling of USAID and a quiet culling of programs like PEPFAR mark not just policy shifts—they mark America’s retreat from its post-Cold War role as Africa’s top partner.

According to White House officials, this isn’t abandonment—it’s “realignment.” Under Trump’s new rules, African countries must offer minerals, trade deals, port access, or diplomatic loyalty—or they’ll get nothing.

This model is brutal. It ignores humanitarian impact and gives leverage only to nations with something to sell. Countries like Somalia are offering port control. Congo is bartering minerals. South Africa? Cast into diplomatic exile for its stance on Israel and Afrikaner politics.

But the risk is not just moral. It’s geopolitical. The Trump administration is handing China the clearest opening it’s had in decades to dominate Africa’s markets, infrastructure, and soft power. Senator Chris Coons put it bluntly: “We’ve handed them the best possible opportunity.”

Behind closed doors, Trump officials scoff at the China panic. “It’s a myth,” one says, dismissing warnings as aid-industry propaganda. They argue that China’s loan-heavy model is unsustainable and predatory, whereas Trump’s blunt-force trade-first approach is “healthier for African societies.”

But that “healthier” vision doesn’t feed HIV patients, rebuild schools, or keep peacekeepers funded. And while Trump’s allies claim the aid era was exploitative and wasteful, cutting programs without building real economic alternatives is a gamble that could destabilize already fragile governments.

In short: Trump hasn’t just broken with Africa’s past—he’s set the entire continent adrift, daring it to sink or swim.

Khadra Issa, alias Ummu Qaqaa Somalia, named as top ISIS operative as U.S. intensifies hunt for diaspora-linked extremists

The U.S. government has put a $5 million bounty on the head of Khadra Issa, also known as Ummu Qaqaa Somalia, a Somali-born Dutch national accused of serving as a key recruiter, propagandist, and operative for ISIS. Her case sends a chilling message: ISIS is no longer confined to the ruins of Raqqa—it’s networked, mobile, and still recruiting, often through diaspora channels.

Issa’s profile paints a dangerous archetype. Fluent, digitally agile, and invisible for years, she allegedly helped orchestrate suicide bombings, child concealment, and online radicalization—while operating far from the battlefields. Most shocking is her alleged role in hiding two American children after their mother died in a U.S. airstrike. The fate of those children remains unknown, a haunting reminder of ISIS’s global entanglements.

Her name is now featured on the Rewards for Justice program’s most-wanted list. This designation means the U.S. considers her a high-priority target—someone embedded in extremist networks still capable of regenerating threats worldwide.

Washington’s move is not just punitive—it’s strategic. With ISIS’s territorial grip gone, its strength lies in the shadows: in encrypted apps, digital outreach, and transnational sympathizers like Issa who blur lines between citizen and combatant.

Security experts warn that Somali-origin operatives have become critical nodes in ISIS’s decentralized revival strategy. These individuals often possess EU or Western passports, allowing them to cross borders, mask affiliations, and embed within migrant communities—becoming radical hubs.

This case also raises larger questions. How did a European national of Somali descent reach this level of influence in a terror organization? How many more are under the radar? And why has the international community failed to dismantle these recruitment pipelines?

Khadra Issa is not just a fugitive—she’s the face of modern jihadist insurgency. And as the U.S. dangles millions for her arrest, one thing is clear: the war on ISIS may be out of the headlines, but it’s far from over.

After years of entrenchment, ISIS-Somalia’s last major bastion crumbles under Puntland’s offensive.

Puntland’s latest offensive in the Calmiskaad Mountains isn’t just a military success—it’s a symbolic decapitation of ISIS-Somalia’s regional ambitions. By seizing Togga Miraale, the crown jewel of ISIS’s mountain redoubts, Puntland security forces have dismantled what analysts long described as the terror group’s last command node in the region. The caliphate fantasy is over, at least in Puntland.

This wasn’t a victory won overnight. The month-long campaign through treacherous terrain and entrenched positions was a surgical war of attrition. ISIS fighters, once emboldened by their remote stronghold and a steady supply of weapons, were ground down. With captured stockpiles and dislodged militants, Puntland has dealt ISIS a blow from which it may never recover in northeastern Somalia.

This is more than just a win for Puntland. It’s a pivotal shift in the asymmetric war against jihadist movements in the Horn. While Al-Shabaab remains a dominant threat further south, ISIS-Somalia’s collapse exposes the vulnerability of jihadist splinter factions when faced with sustained, locally-led counterterrorism backed by strategic intelligence.

Moreover, this win couldn’t come at a more geopolitically significant time. As Somalia reels from recent setbacks—including the fall of Aadan Yabaal to Al-Shabaab—Puntland’s success highlights a stark contrast in governance, security, and military capability. It sends a potent message: decentralized Somali regions like Puntland can, and will, defend their territory where the federal government has failed.

Regional players like the UAE and the U.S., both of whom quietly supported this operation with air surveillance and intel, are taking note. So should Mogadishu. As the Somali government continues to lose ground to terrorists in the south, Puntland’s battlefield dominance is not just a local triumph—it’s a rebuke of Somalia’s fragile security architecture.

The caliphate in Somalia didn’t fall with fanfare—it collapsed under the pressure of a region that refused to yield. Puntland now owns the victory. And ISIS-Somalia? It’s a name soon to be remembered only in past tense.

Puntland Leadership Under Fire Over ISIS Threat

Somalia’s Jihadist Boom: The Islamic State Is Stronger, Richer, and More Deadly

Minneapolis Man Charged with Supporting ISIS

Puntland Forces Hit Hard in Battle Against ISIS Stronghold

U.S. and UAE Joint Operation Kills 16 ISIS Militants in Puntland Stronghold

Puntland Airstrikes Devastate ISIS Strongholds, Killing Over 30 Fighters

ISIS Deploys Advanced Drones to Escalate War in Puntland

Puntland Claims it Uncovered ISIS Treatment Sites, Business Links in Somaliland

Telegram Shuts Down Key ISIS Propaganda Channel Amid Puntland Conflict

Puntland Forces Close in on ISIS Stronghold, Final Battle Nears

Puntland Seeks Global Aid to Crush ISIS Strongholds

Puntland Forces Crush ISIS Strongholds in Togga Jaceel Offensive

Airstrike Wipes Out Foreign ISIS Fighters in Puntland

Puntland Clerics Rally Support for Military Offensive Against ISIS in Al-Miskaat Mountains

Puntland Would be Happy to Host Gazan Refugees: Puntland Deputy Minister

In Puntland’s rugged mountains, ISIS builds a dangerous foothold

US AFRICOM Strikes ISIS Strongholds in Somalia

Senior ISIS Commander Captured in Puntland as U.S. Airstrikes Cripple Somalia’s Jihadist Network

Puntland Cracks Down on Illegal Foreign Nationals Amid Extremism Concerns

ISIS Drone Attack Kills Puntland Soldier

Landmine Explosion Kills 13 Puntland Soldiers in Counter-Terrorism Mission

Puntland Forces Strike Major Daesh Strongholds in Bari Region

Puntland Denies Amnesty to Foreign ISIS Fighters

Islamic State Claims Responsibility for Deadly Puntland Military Base Attack in Somalia

Puntland Deputy Speaker Survives ISIS Attack Amid Rising Threat

Puntland Forces Uncover Major Weapons Cache, Arrest Al-Shabaab and ISIS Suspects in Bosaso