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Somalia is Dangerous: Former US Deportees Struggle With Fear, Uncertainty
Those previously deported by the US warn that President Trump’s plan to expel more Somali migrants may endanger lives.
Mukhtar Abdiwhab Ahmed, who lived in the US as a refugee, was deported back to Somalia in 2018
Mukhtar Abdiwhab Ahmed sits in a plastic chair outside his house in Mogadishu. Nearby, children play, soldiers congregate, and rickshaws speed by under the scorching sun.
“If I knew I would end up here [in Somalia] I would have never gotten these tattoos,” the 39-year-old tells Al Jazeera, saying he has taken to mostly wearing long sleeves to avoid the negative comments and “dirty looks” he gets from people in the city.
Mukhtar spent most of his life in the United States but has struggled to readapt to conservative Somali society since being deported in 2018 under the first Donald Trump presidency.
Now, newly inaugurated for a second time in office, the Trump administration has once again announced removal orders for migrants he says are in the US “illegally”. This includes more than 4,000 Somalis who, like Mukhtar, face deportation to the country of their birth.
But lawyers, activists and Somalis who were deported from the US in previous years say the plan may put lives at risk as insecurity and instability still plague Somalia, readapting to a country many left as children is difficult, and work opportunities are scarce.
Meanwhile, Washington itself warns its own citizens about “crime, terrorism, civil unrest … kidnapping, [and] piracy” in the East African country, where attacks by the armed group al-Shabab are a common occurrence.
‘The wrong path’
Mukhtar and his family were among the first to flee Somalia after the collapse of the government in 1991. They left for neighbouring Kenya before Mukhtar and his older brother made it to the US as refugees.
The two settled in the south end of Seattle, Washington in 1995 – an area with high rates of poverty and youth violence, where Mukhtar says he fell into “crime, drugs and temptation”.
“At 16, I started getting into trouble,” he says. He skipped school, dabbled in crime, and was arrested and charged with a felony after stealing and crashing a relative’s car.
Though he tried to get his life on track, in 2005, he was charged with armed robbery. It was the then 19-year-old’s first time going through the system as an adult; he was found guilty and sentenced to two years in prison.
Mukhtar was deported from the US after he was arrested and jailed for a crime
The day his sentence ended, agents from US Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) visited him in prison, and instead of releasing him, transferred Mukhtar to the Northwest Detention Center in Tacoma, Washington – one of the largest immigration detention centres in the US.
“It felt like serving two sentences for committing one crime, and when I reached the immigration jail, I felt like an animal being taken to the slaughterhouse,” he says.
A few months in, ICE agents brought him a document to sign, saying he would be deported to Somalia. As part of its Criminal Alien Program, ICE works to identify and remove jailed migrants they believe “threaten the safety” of the US.
Mukhtar says he knew he wouldn’t be deported as Somalia was at war. It was 2007 and during that time, US-backed Ethiopian troops were in the country battling splinter groups that rose from the ashes following the ouster of the Islamic Courts Union, and the subsequent rise of its youth military wing, al-Shabab.
Tired of being in prison, Mukhtar decided to sign the document. But after he was released by ICE, he says he “kept going down the wrong path”. When he was arrested for burglary in 2015, he expected to be released after completing his one-year sentence, but ICE showed up again and sent him back to Northwest Detention Center for 11 months.
“It was like history repeating itself once again,” he says.
He again thought ICE would not deport him to Somalia “because of the war and instability back home”. But in December 2017, he was among 92 Somalis put on a deportation flight manned by ICE agents that prompted an international outcry after the plane did not make it to its destination for logistical reasons and it emerged that the deportees were abused en route.
“We were abused on the deportation flight,” he says. “I recall there were about 20 guards, they roughed up a lot of us, including one guy who was tased. They really beat us and, mind you, the whole time we were in handcuffs and shackled by our waist and feet for like 40 hours.”
Upon returning to the US, they were taken to an immigration detention centre and most of the Somalis on his flight filed motions to reopen their immigration cases to fight deportation.
However, others like Mukhtar accepted deportation to Somalia – rather than risk a lengthy court process and further jail time.
“If I look at all the times I’ve been incarcerated my entire life, it adds up to eight years, nearly a decade, and I couldn’t bear to stay behind bars any longer,” he says.
Mukhtar, left, and fellow deportee from the US, Anwar Mohamed, try to readjust to life in Mogadishu
‘Too dangerous for ICE agents’
In March 2018, Mukhtar was one of 120 migrants on a deportation flight from the US – 40 Somalis, 40 Kenyans and 40 Sudanese, he says. The Kenyans were released upon the plane’s arrival in Nairobi, while the Sudanese and Somalis were placed on separate flights headed for Khartoum and Mogadishu, respectively.
“We were still handcuffed when we switched planes in Nairobi but the ICE agents didn’t continue the journey with us from Nairobi to Mogadishu,” Mukhtar says.
Other deportees sent back in past years also report ICE using a third party to complete the removal process to Somalia.
In 2005, Somali immigrant Keyse Jama was flown from Minneapolis to Nairobi by ICE, only for a private security firm to escort him to Somalia – at a time when most of the country was controlled by strongmen.
Anwar Mohamed, 36, who was deported a month after Mukhtar, says he landed in Nairobi before he and the other Somali passengers were placed on another flight to Mogadishu.
“When we asked the ICE agents why they weren’t going to escort us to Mogadishu, they responded by saying Somalia is too dangerous,” Anwar tells Al Jazeera.
“If Somalia is too dangerous for ICE agents to go, then why did the [US] government send us here?” he asks.
As of 2024, the US State Department has marked Somalia as a level 4 “Do Not Travel” country for US citizens, citing crime, terrorism and kidnapping, among other reasons. Al-Shabab and other groups opposed to the government continue to carry out armed attacks, including in places frequented by civilians.
While Somalia is deemed unsafe for US citizens, the Trump administration has marked 4,090 Somalis for deportation this year.
Residents gather near the scene of an explosion of a bomb-rigged car parked near the National Theatre in the Hamar Weyne district of Mogadishu in September 2024 [Feisal Omar/Reuters]
“The Trump administration is definitely endangering lives by deporting people to places like Somalia,” says Marc Prokosch, a senior lawyer at Prokosch Law, a firm in Minnesota that specialises in immigration cases.
“The balancing test for elected officials is whether it is worth it when considering our legal obligations [such the Convention Against Torture] and our moral and ethical obligations, compared to the obligations of protecting the safety and security of United States citizens,” he tells Al Jazeera, referring to the argument that migrants accused of violent offences should be deported for the safety of Americans.
Other immigration lawyers representing Somalis in the US have also voiced concerns, saying many of their clients are “terrified”, including exiled Somali journalists. One lawyer in Minnesota said in December that dozens of Somali asylum seekers have fled into neighbouring Canada over fears of an ICE clampdown.
Meanwhile, Human Rights Watch has cautioned that Temporary Protected Status – which protects foreign nationals from “unsafe” countries from deportation – may not be renewed for Somalis under the new Trump administration.
‘I saw the lifeless bodies of my friends’
Like Mukhtar, Anwar also fled Somalia during the civil war in the 1990s. His childhood memories of the country are bleak, he tells Al Jazeera, recounting one day that stands out in his mind.
“I was playing outside [in Mogadishu] with a couple friends, then we found an oval-shaped object on the ground. That’s when my mother called me in for Asr [afternoon Muslim] prayer,” Anwar recounts. “And then I heard a large explosion.
“Everyone from our neighbourhood came rushing outside, including me. I then saw the lifeless bodies of my three friends strewn on the dirt road … They died from the oval object they were playing with.
“Years later, when I matured, then did I only realise it was a grenade we were playing with and my mother’s call to prayer is what saved me,” he says.
Not long after that day, Anwar’s older brother was murdered by armed fighters. That was the last straw for his family, he says. His mother sent him to Kenya in 1997, before he and his older sister moved to the US as refugees.
But in the US, Anwar got involved in crime and violence, ultimately being jailed for 10 years for robbery in a state prison in Missouri.
Soon after he was released, he once again found himself in handcuffs – this time on a deportation flight to Somalia in April 2018.
Anwar fled Somalia for the US as a child, but was deported back there in 2018
Returning to Mogadishu after decades, he found himself in unfamiliar terrain.
“When I had the chains removed after arriving [in Mogadishu] is when it hit me: I was free but I really wasn’t free,” Anwar says, feeling like he was still imprisoned by his traumatic childhood memories.
Anwar started having flashbacks of past experiences in Somalia. To make matters worse, Mogadishu was still in a protracted state of conflict, and he felt death was a daily reality.
When he made his way to his father’s house to reconnect with relatives he hadn’t seen in more than 20 years, he saw his siblings shaking hands and laughing with armed soldiers sitting on top of a pick-up truck mounted with an anti-aircraft gun.
“As a child [in Somalia] during the civil war, these kinds of people [armed men] were feared,” he says, “but now many of them wear uniforms, have allegiances to the state and are tasked with security.
“The same thing [guns] my mother was shielding me from when she sent me away to the refugee camps in Kenya as a child have become a part of everyday life.”
‘Every road I take can lead to death’
In March 2018, when Mukhtar’s plane landed in Mogadishu, he also found a society he couldn’t understand and a language he knew little of.
“It felt like starting life from scratch all over again,” he says.
Many Somali deportees from the US don’t have family members to return to because they’ve either been killed in the continuing three-decade-long conflict or fled the country and never returned, Mukhtar says.
“When you don’t have no one to come home to or a place to go, it leaves many deportees vulnerable and might force some to resort to crime as a means of survival.”
“With every step you think you’re going to die,” Mukhtar says
Upon returning to the city, Mukhtar saw tall apartment buildings, condominiums and paved roads in Mogadishu. It was different from the bullet-riddled buildings and bombed-out infrastructure he saw on television, he thought. But the realities of the war were around him in other ways, as he would soon find out.
“In Mogadishu, explosions are reality and can happen any moment … You can be walking down the street and an explosion can take your life. In this city, there aren’t warnings before bombings, only screams and cries that come after,” he says.
At first, Mukhtar settled in an old family home in the Waberi district – an upscale area home to government employees, security officials, diaspora returnees and locals working for international NGOs. But even areas that are deemed safe are not, he says.
One sweltering day, Mukhtar looked out of his window as a group of men played dominos, labourers trekked through a construction site, and young women sold tea outside.
“I was thinking of walking down the street to get cigarettes but I felt kind of lazy and decided to stay home,” Mukhtar says, “[then] I heard a very loud explosion.”
He later learned that the blast took place on the same road he always walked down.
“I could have died if I didn’t choose to stay home that day. I was lucky but you never know when you’ll meet the same fate as those caught up in that explosion,” he says.
“Every road I take can lead to death, and with every step, you think you’re going to die.”
‘No opportunities’
Added to the precarious security situation in Somalia is a lack of opportunities, deportees say.
Youth make up an estimated 70 percent of Somalia’s population, yet the country has a nearly 40 percent youth unemployment rate.
“There are no opportunities here and we don’t have a stable country,” says Mukhtar, who is unemployed. “If you’re a deportee, it’s much worse.”
Several deportees from the US now living in Mogadishu have joined the police or army
Some deportees who speak both English and Somali have found work as interpreters, but most do not as they have lost their mother tongue in the years abroad.
Meanwhile, several have joined the police force or national army upon returning to Somalia.
“Many of these guys being deported from the US are coming to Somalia after serving 10 or 15-year prison terms,” Mukhtar says.
When they join the police or army, “they get $200 a month as a salary”.
Mukhtar has, at times, contemplated joining the police or the army, but decided against it.
“When you’re wearing a uniform and carrying a gun, you don’t know who or when someone is going to take your life,” he says.
Aside from threats to their physical safety, the cultural chasm between deportees and their countrymen also weighs on them.
Mukhtar says stigma from members of the community is something he still faces, despite having been back for several years.
“The tattoos I got at a young age also came back to haunt me,” he adds, saying that tattooing is viewed as alien or taboo by many in the deeply conservative Somali Muslim society, and that he’s even been verbally abused at a mosque when he pulled up his sleeves to perform ablution before prayers.
‘The card I’ve been dealt’
Anwar has also faced stigma.
Anwar now drives a rickshaw to make a living in Mogadishu
“When I first came here, I stuck out,” he says, also mentioning his tattoos, which he has started to cover up.
“Everything from the way I walked to the way I spoke Somali. Everyone knew I wasn’t a local and when they found out I was deported from the US, they looked at me as if I was the guy who dropped the ball at the finish line.”
Being away in the US and far from Somali customs, culture and language all contributed to difficulties readjusting to life in Somalia.
“I didn’t adapt to this environment by choice. It was forced upon me, the day I arrived in chains,” he says.
He has even found himself stopped by intelligence officials and cross-questioned about where he’s from and what he’s doing here, he says.
“I asked myself how long is this going to go on,” he laments.
Still, he is determined to adjust to his new life.
“I changed my ways, got married and [now] drive a rickshaw to get by. I try my best, but the hostility from some members of my community … makes living in an already hostile environment even more hostile,” he says.
“But I don’t blame them for their ignorance,” Anwar adds. “This is the card I’ve been dealt and I have to make the best of it.”
Did Netanyahu just leak Israel’s war plans to save his image? Netanyahu under fire after NYT bombshell reveals Israeli plans to strike Iran; officials call it “one of the most dangerous leaks in Israel’s history.”
A crisis is unfolding in Israel—not just over Iran’s nuclear threat, but over a leak that’s ignited a political firestorm in Jerusalem. A senior Israeli official has told The Jerusalem Post that the recent New York Times report detailing Israeli plans to strike Iran’s nuclear program with US support is “one of the most dangerous leaks in Israel’s history.”
This isn’t just about national security. It’s about political survival.
Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu now finds himself at the center of a storm, with multiple Israeli politicians accusing him of deliberately leaking the classified operation details to shield himself from political fallout. His critics argue that the leak served as a distraction—a calculated maneuver to silence accusations that he talks tough on Iran but fails to deliver decisive military action.
Former defense minister Avigdor Lieberman didn’t hold back, tweeting: “How lucky we were that Netanyahu wasn’t prime minister when we bombed the nuclear reactors in Syria and Iraq.” His point? Past leaders acted. Netanyahu, critics say, leaks.
The revelation that Israel seriously weighed a joint strike with the US against Iran’s nuclear facilities—one that could have started a regional war—has sent shockwaves across both the intelligence and military communities. Not only was the IDF reportedly prepared to carry out the operation, but the entire strategy was contingent on US approval, which Trump ultimately denied in favor of diplomatic talks.
Now the damage is twofold: Iran has been tipped off, and Israel’s deterrence narrative has taken a hit.
While Netanyahu continues to claim that Iran will never be allowed to go nuclear on his watch, the Israeli public and global observers are left wondering: Did he just sabotage one of the most sensitive defense strategies of the decade—for the sake of headlines?
This leak doesn’t just threaten operational secrecy. It weakens trust within Israel’s security establishment, sends mixed signals to Tehran, and erodes confidence among US allies. In the end, the greatest threat to Israeli security might not come from Iranian centrifuges—but from within Israel’s own political machinery.
Militant capture of Aadan Yabaal questions Mogadishu’s military momentum amid eroding public trust and fragile international support.
The fall of Aadan Yabaal to Al-Shabaab isn’t just a battlefield loss—it’s a strategic and psychological blow to the Somali government’s credibility. President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud’s attempt to reassure the nation that “momentum shifts” are part of war may ring hollow to a public that’s heard the same line since the early 2000s. After two years of claiming gains, how did the jihadists storm a symbolic stronghold with apparent ease?
Al-Shabaab’s capture of Aadan Yabaal shows the Somali military’s offensive was never as comprehensive or irreversible as claimed. Frontline forces remain underfunded and stretched thin. Tactical vacuums and inconsistent control of retaken towns are leaving doors wide open for ambushes. If elite units can’t hold strategic hubs like Aadan Yabaal, then what is really under government control?
President Mohamud’s warning about waning international support is an admission of dependency—Somalia’s war effort hinges more on foreign aid than national resolve. With US counterterrorism strikes declining, AMISOM rebranded into a lighter version, and donor fatigue mounting, the illusion of “progress” is rapidly dissolving. Al-Shabaab isn’t just surviving—it’s adapting, exploiting weaknesses, and regaining ground.
The president may plead for morale, but it’s morale in Mogadishu that’s collapsing. Every time Al-Shabaab plants its flag in a reclaimed town, it sends a louder message: Somalia’s government doesn’t have a monopoly on violence—or on legitimacy. Community militias like Ma’awisleey may be willing to fight, but they can’t hold ground without serious logistical backing. Without air support, intelligence coordination, and a functioning national army, this war will keep repeating itself.
If Somalia wants to avoid becoming a permanent failed state, its leaders must stop spinning failures into PR soundbites and start admitting the cracks in the system. The enemy is inside the walls—and still marching.
Somaliland’s greatest obstacle isn’t foreign policy — it’s internal corruption, nepotism, and betrayal from politicians who profit while the nation suffers. WARYATV exposes the rot.
While the people dream of recognition, their leaders cash in on betrayal.
Somaliland’s path to recognition has never been blocked by Mogadishu, Ethiopia, or even the UN. It has been sabotaged from within. Behind the speeches and flag-waving lies an elite class of politicians and businessmen who treat the nation not as a cause to fight for, but as a franchise to milk.
These men—most unelected, many unqualified—have spent decades playing the long game of stagnation. They talk sovereignty while banking silence. They chant patriotism while laundering public funds. And worst of all, they have created a system where anyone smart enough to challenge the decay is labeled a threat.
This is the intellectual apartheid of Somaliland: Educated minds are shunned, sidelined, and smeared because they expose what the ruling class desperately wants to hide—their fear of change, their fear of meritocracy, and their fear of losing control.
The result?
- Corruption reigns unchecked.
- Healthcare and education are abandoned.
- National planning is a joke.
- Recognition is sabotaged deliberately—because an internationally recognized state comes with rules and transparency, and that threatens the clan cartel currently in charge.
Somalilanders aren’t poor because of geography. They’re poor because the elite keep them that way. They’re told to wait, to pray, to believe in “diplomatic progress” while deals are cut behind closed doors and loyalty is bought, not earned. And the biggest betrayal? Business elites who actively oppose recognition, because they fear competition more than they love their flag.
Hadrawi warned us. Intelligence is punished. The thinkers, the visionaries, the honest ones—they are exiled, not by the world, but by their own people in power.
Somaliland isn’t failing because of external pressure. It’s failing because of internal cowardice. A nation hijacked by men who want the title of president, not the responsibility of statehood.
The people must stop idolizing thieves and start demanding truth. Somaliland’s dream is not dead—but it’s being strangled in silence.
Time to break the silence.
Trump eyes embassy closures as US rejects UN plan to fund peacekeepers in Somalia — Mogadishu’s last lifeline in peril.
The US shocks the UN by rejecting funding for African Union forces in Somalia, just as Trump weighs closing the US Embassy in Mogadishu. With Al-Shabaab advancing and oil politics heating up, is Somalia doomed to implode?
The United States just signaled the collapse of Somalia’s last fragile security architecture — and it did so with chilling clarity. Washington has publicly rejected UN efforts to fund the African Union Stabilization Support Mission in Somalia (AUSSOM), effectively gutting any hope for predictable peacekeeping operations in a country teetering on the edge of collapse.
This isn’t just a bureaucratic snub — it’s a geopolitical death sentence for Somalia. Al-Shabaab militants are already testing the vacuum, launching a multi-pronged assault on Adan Yabaal, a key military base in Middle Shabelle. If confirmed, the town’s fall would mark the largest strategic loss since Somalia launched its offensive against terror in 2022.
UN Secretary-General António Guterres warned the Security Council: no funding, no peace. But the US—under Trump’s second-term posture—is slamming the door shut, labeling Somalia as unfit for a hybrid funding model under Resolution 2719. Diplomats are in a panic. Meanwhile, Trump is reportedly planning to close up to 30 diplomatic missions, with Mogadishu’s embassy topping the list.
Somalia’s response? Desperation disguised as diplomacy. The FGS is now peddling oil blocks in contested territories like Nugaal Valley. In a flashy announcement on X, Somalia’s ambassador to the US declared “Somalia is open for drilling,” targeting American firms with an offer it legally and militarily cannot secure.
Somalia’s Ambassador to the United States, Dahir Hassan Arab
The move comes after Somalia’s recognition of SSC-Khaatumo — a region still engulfed in the political wreckage of its war with Somaliland.
This isn’t about development. It’s about weaponizing recognition, resource manipulation, and fake sovereignty in a bid to win Trump’s favor and undermine Somaliland’s momentum.
But while Hargeisa builds forests and attracts foreign media praise, Mogadishu is drowning in debt, insurgency, and denial. The West is tuning out, and even the UN is losing patience. The US, once Somalia’s diplomatic oxygen, is now pulling the plug.
Somalia is not rising — it’s being unplugged.
Chinese state media blasts Trump’s tariff war, accuses U.S. of freeloading on globalization while Xi strengthens Asian alliances.
China lashes out at Trump’s economic nationalism, accusing the U.S. of hypocrisy as global trade realigns. Rare earths, aircraft, and semiconductors are next in this economic war.
Beijing just turned up the heat—and made it personal.
China Daily, the official mouthpiece of the Chinese Communist Party, has delivered a scathing editorial aimed squarely at Donald Trump, telling him to “stop whining” and stop pretending the U.S. is a victim of global trade. “The U.S. is not getting ripped off by anybody,” it declared. “It has been taking a free ride on globalization for decades.”
The insult isn’t just rhetorical—it’s strategic. Trump’s aggressive tariff campaign, which now includes up to 145% duties on Chinese imports, has sparked the fiercest economic duel in decades. But China isn’t retreating. Instead, it’s choking U.S. exporters and fueling regional alliances that sideline Washington altogether.
Xi Jinping’s surprise regional tour, now overlapping with this tariff escalation, is no coincidence. Xi is quietly building what he calls a “strategic alliance of destiny” with Malaysia and ASEAN countries. Translation: Beijing is done playing by Trump’s rules. While the U.S. ratchets up tariffs and threatens new probes into semiconductors, pharma, and rare earths, China is reinforcing control of critical global supply chains.
The stakes? Massive. The Hong Kong postal service just banned packages to the U.S., Boeing deals are stalling, and Chinese firms are moving supply lines away from American manufacturers. Rare earth export bans are already shaking markets, and Beijing’s shadow diplomacy is redrawing global trade corridors.
Trump says, “The ball is in China’s court.” But Beijing just spiked it—with force.
Bottom line: This is not just a trade war. It’s a global economic realignment. And China’s message to the world? America’s time as the global economic sheriff is over—and it has only itself to blame.
Russian cult leader Konstantin Rudnev resurfaces in Argentina in bizarre case involving childbirth, possible sex trafficking, and guru-worship.
Arrested in Argentina, Russian cult figure Konstantin Rudnev is under investigation for coercion, drug crimes, and using childbirth for citizenship. Cult control or criminal empire?
Bariloche, Argentina — a place known for lakes and mountains — is now at the center of a spiraling international scandal.
In a twisted blend of cult fanaticism, immigration schemes, and alleged sexual slavery, Russian national Konstantin Rudnev, a self-proclaimed alien guru from Sirius and former convict, was arrested at the city’s airport following the suspicious birth of a child claimed to be his. That child may now be the key to exposing what authorities say could be a disturbing network of human trafficking cloaked in cult mysticism.
Hospital staff had already flagged the nervous, malnourished 22-year-old Russian woman and her handlers days before the birth. The moment her companions insisted the baby carry Rudnev’s surname — despite her visible fear and silence — alarms were triggered. Within days, Argentinian police swooped in. Rudnev was arrested along with over a dozen of his alleged disciples, all showing signs of cult control: malnourishment, secrecy, and submission.
The investigation, led by prosecutor Fernando Arrigo, is looking into whether Rudnev sought to exploit Argentina’s citizenship-by-birth policy. His alleged aim? Obtain legal status and protection by fathering a child in the country — possibly against the mother’s will.
But this is no ordinary immigration scam. Authorities recovered disturbing evidence from multiple rented properties: drug-laced pills, satellite communications, fasting punishments, and cells lined with floor mattresses and blacked-out windows — all hallmarks of coercive cult behavior.
Rudnev’s resume reads like dystopian fiction: convicted in 2013 for rape, drug crimes, and running a cult that stripped people of their autonomy, he told followers he was sent by aliens to save humanity. His book The Way of the Fool mocked jobs, families, and logic — encouraging complete submission.
Now, Rudnev is in custody, but the shadow of his cult still lingers. Were the followers victims or willing disciples? Was the newborn a passport, a symbol, or something darker?
If Argentina’s probe reveals that Rudnev resurrected his Russian cult to traffic women and abuse citizenship laws, this will be more than a bizarre spiritual scam — it will be one of the most chilling cross-border cult cases in recent memory.
From mass firings to trade wars and geopolitical whiplash, Trump 2.0 is chaos on steroids—and the global fallout has just begun.
Trump’s second term is moving faster than Washington, Wall Street, or Main Street can absorb. Tariffs, purges, and reversals are fueling confusion, economic anxiety, and global instability.
“Move fast and break things” isn’t just Trump’s method—it’s now U.S. policy.
In his second term, President Donald Trump has stormed out of the gate like a man racing against time—and reality. From slapping 145% tariffs on China to firing thousands of federal workers by weekend email, Trump is governing with the urgency of a president who knows the clock is ticking. With GOP control of Congress and midterms looming, he’s pressing executive power to its constitutional limits—and maybe beyond.
The results? Chaos, confusion, and contradiction.
Trump’s team has reversed itself multiple times on major issues: trade with China, tech tariffs, deportations, and economic messaging. Even his own allies are scrambling to understand what policy applies on any given day. Canada, burned by steel and aluminum tariffs, says it has “no idea what’s actually been lifted.” Inside the U.S., small business owners like Mark Overbay are trying to plan pricing around a policy that changes with Trump’s tweets.
The “panic index” is spiking. Consumer confidence is collapsing. Supply chains are disoriented. Retirement funds are bleeding again. Even Social Security callers are getting busy signals at record rates as agencies buckle under hasty mass firings.
Meanwhile, Trump’s ambitions have no ceiling. In just 100 days, he’s tried to end the Russia-Ukraine war, restart Iran nuclear talks, annex Greenland, punish Canada, rebuild U.S. factories, and turn Gaza into a luxury resort.
This is not governance—it’s global whiplash.
“There’s no method. No strategy. Just raw speed and spectacle,” says one Canadian diplomat. Judge James Bredar slammed the firings: “Move fast? Fine. Break things? Not the law.”
But Trump’s allies say that’s exactly the point. He doesn’t want to govern slower. He wants revenge, legacy, and transformation—at warp speed.
Whether the system—and the world—can withstand that pressure? That’s the real test of Trump 2.0.
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Trump’s Iran Gamble: Talks May Backfire, Strengthen Tehran’s Terror Regime, Warns INSS Expert
Trump’s “premature optimism” in nuclear talks could help Iran supercharge its arsenal and destabilize the Middle East, Israeli security expert says.
Dr. Benny Sabti of INSS warns that Trump’s direct talks with Iran may embolden the regime, accelerate its nuclear ambitions, and weaken Israel’s security edge.
Is Trump walking into a trap with Tehran? That’s the warning from Dr. Benny Sabti, a top Iran analyst at Israel’s Institute for National Security Studies (INSS), who is sounding the alarm over Washington’s newest nuclear diplomacy push with the Islamic Republic.
In an exclusive with Maariv, Sabti torched President Trump’s “premature optimism,” calling it not only a diplomatic blunder but a strategic risk to Israel, Saudi Arabia, and the broader Middle East. “You don’t call talks successful after two hours,” Sabti fumed. “You’re signaling weakness—and Iran knows how to exploit that.”
The core concern: Trump may be laying the groundwork for a return to the very nuclear deal he pulled out of in 2018, without full dismantlement, without iron-clad inspections, and with potential sanctions relief that could flood Iran’s economy with foreign currency. That, Sabti warns, would revive the regime—and bankroll its terror proxies.
While Iran plays hardball, the U.S. still hasn’t eased sanctions, but the regime senses a win. “They’re calculating,” Sabti said. “Partial relief is enough to reactivate Iran’s global trade machine. Once that happens, there’s no turning back. You’re not weakening Iran—you’re rescuing it.”
Even more dangerous is the false theater unfolding in Iran’s parliament, which Sabti dismisses as staged political drama. “There’s no real disagreement in Tehran,” he warned. “It’s all for show. The regime isn’t compromising—it’s stalling.”
Sabti also took aim at Trump’s reliance on Oman as mediator, noting the sultanate’s long history of cozy ties with Tehran. “You can’t win a war of pressure if your middleman is working both sides,” he said.
Bottom line? Sabti doesn’t believe diplomacy will stop Iran’s nuclear ambitions. “You have to go all in—sanctions, sabotage, even military options. This ‘a little here, a little there’ approach? It’s suicide.”
And for Israel? “If the Iranians believe they’ve outplayed the Americans, they will sprint toward the bomb. And we’ll all pay for it.”
Why Somaliland’s President Is Now Admired Like Never Before
The Iran Leak that Shook Israel’s Security State
Al-Shabaab’s Resurgence Exposes Flaws in Somalia’s War Strategy
Saudi Arabia’s Billion-Dollar Bid for Eritrea’s Assab Port
Operation Geel Exposes the Truth: International Community’s Reluctance to Embrace Somaliland as a Strategic Ally
Somaliland and UAE Elevate Ties to Comprehensive Strategic Partnership
US Weapons Fuel Somali Proxy War to Block Somaliland, Trigger the Great Horn Conflict
Amarre: The Scholar-Statesman Ready to Redefine Somaliland’s Future
Legal Chaos Exposed as Trump’s Deportation Machine Faces Court-Ordered Reversal
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Analysis1 month agoSaudi Arabia’s Billion-Dollar Bid for Eritrea’s Assab Port
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ASSESSMENTS3 weeks agoOperation Geel Exposes the Truth: International Community’s Reluctance to Embrace Somaliland as a Strategic Ally
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Somaliland3 months agoSomaliland and UAE Elevate Ties to Comprehensive Strategic Partnership
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Africa1 year agoHow Somaliland Could Lead the Global Camel Milk Industry
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Analysis1 year agoIran escalates conflict, attacking Israel; US forces help Israel to intercept Iranian projectiles
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Top stories11 months agoGunmen Kill 11 in Southeastern Nigeria Attack, Army Reports
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Analysis1 year agoIsrael and Iran on Edge: Tensions Escalate Amidst Rising Threats
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TECH11 months agoZimbabwe Approves Licensing of Musk’s Starlink Internet Service