Leaked draft sparks outrage as Trump White House plots radical State Department overhaul, Africa programs face existential threat.
A leaked draft suggesting the Trump administration plans to dismantle State Department Africa operations and human rights bureaus draws fierce denials from Marco Rubio and fears of U.S. diplomatic retreat. 

The Trump administration appears poised to deliver its most radical foreign policy shift yet—if a leaked executive order draft obtained by The New York Times is to be believed. The document, circulating among diplomats and defense analysts, outlines a sweeping demolition of the State Department as we know it—one that would erase Africa from Washington’s diplomatic map, terminate human rights bureaus, and gut long-standing refugee and democracy programs.

But in a typical 2025 twist, Secretary of State Marco Rubio took to X, dismissing it as “fake news,” accusing The New York Times of falling for another hoax. Yet what’s fueling the fire is not just the leak—it’s the silence from the White House. No clear denial. No press release. Just noise.

If enacted, the order would shut down embassies across sub-Saharan Africa, roll back Fulbright scholarships to only those studying “national security,” and eliminate fellowships designed to bring underrepresented groups into diplomacy. For Somalia, Ethiopia, Sudan, and others—it’s more than abandonment; it’s strategic blindness.

And for Somaliland? The timing couldn’t be clearer. As Hargeisa lobbies to become Washington’s anchor in the Horn, Trump’s pivot away from Africa would leave the region’s fate in the hands of adversaries—Turkey, China, and Russia. Closing American embassies creates power vacuums others are happy to fill.

Rubio’s comment sidesteps the real issue: this isn’t just about budget cuts—it’s about ideology. The leaked order frames the State Department as bloated, slow, and disloyal. It replaces diplomacy with artificial intelligence, seasoned career officers with politically-aligned operatives, and strategic engagement with extractive opportunism—especially on the continent.

Eliminating the Bureau of African Affairs and reducing it to a “special envoy” shows how Trump sees Africa: not as a partner, but as a battlefield for minerals and terrorism—not diplomacy or democracy.

Critics aren’t just reacting—they’re panicking. Foreign policy veterans are calling this a death knell for the U.S.’s global influence. Human rights advocates warn that it will embolden authoritarians. Lawmakers like Rep. Gregory Meeks are already sounding alarms.

What if Rubio’s tweet isn’t a denial—but a distraction?

The truth may be somewhere in between. But one thing is clear: America’s global posture is being rewritten—and Africa is on the chopping block.

U.S.-Africa Relations Under a Trump Return: Insights from Tibor Nagy

Secret documents, Nazi compounds, and Argentina’s nuclear ambitions ignite the theory that Hitler didn’t die in Berlin. A former CIA agent alleges Adolf Hitler faked his death and fled to Argentina, where Nazi loyalists may have plotted a nuclear-powered Fourth Reich.

WARYATV investigates the bombshell claims.

“If you were going to hide Hitler, that’s where you’d do it,” Baer told the Daily Mail, citing WW2-era German coins, Nazi insignia, and mysteriously advanced infrastructure uncovered in 2015. The finds suggest more than a post-war hideout—they point to an organized resurrection attempt, complete with nuclear ambitions.

Declassified archives, greenlit by Argentina’s new president Javier Milei after a meeting with the Simon Wiesenthal Center, may soon provide the smoking gun. Baer expects a paper trail implicating the Argentinian government in aiding fleeing Nazis and concealing their presence for decades.

Skeptics like ex-UN investigator John Cencich urge caution, suggesting these remnants reflect demoralized fugitives rather than a coordinated Fourth Reich. Still, history confirms that top Nazis like Adolf Eichmann and Josef Mengele found shelter in Argentina.

Now, on the 136th anniversary of Hitler’s birth, the world might be closer than ever to finding out whether the Nazi nightmare truly ended in 1945—or merely relocated.

Truth demands the courage to follow even the most uncomfortable leads.

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.