Ankara secures 90% of Somalia’s oil and gas profits in landmark deal, sparking fears of energy colonialism under the guise of partnership.
Turkey’s new hydrocarbons deal with Somalia grants it 90% of all oil and gas output with zero upfront costs, raising questions about sovereignty, exploitation, and geopolitical consequences in the Horn of Africa.

Turkey didn’t just strike oil in Somalia — it struck gold. In a sweeping hydrocarbons agreement now before the Turkish Parliament, Ankara has secured 90% of Somalia’s oil and gas output, full export rights, zero upfront costs, and even the legal turf of arbitration on its own soil. Welcome to the 21st-century blueprint of “soft conquest” — wrapped in partnership, sealed with military escorts.

Somalia, teetering between internal fragility and global neglect, has offered up its vast offshore reserves to Turkey on terms that defy global industry norms. No signature bonuses. No surface fees. Only 5% royalties capped for Somalia, and Turkish corporations get to walk away with the lion’s share — free to export, sell, and profit without local interference.

This isn’t partnership. It’s a power grab masquerading as cooperation.

Text of the hydrocarbon agreement between Turkey and Somalia.

Worse still, Turkey can assign its rights to any foreign third party without even opening a local office — a clause that opens the door for opaque subcontracts and external interference in Somalia’s maritime zones. Turkish warships, under the pretext of anti-piracy missions, will escort deep-sea drill ships come September. But what they’re really guarding is Ankara’s geopolitical gamble — a stranglehold on East Africa’s most lucrative energy basin.

The optics are troubling. Somalia’s government, seeking legitimacy and allies, is locking itself into a long-term dependency that gives away critical sovereignty in exchange for vague promises of training and defense aid. If oil is supposed to be Somalia’s path to self-reliance, this deal builds a highway — but Turkey is behind the wheel.

As the global energy chessboard tilts eastward, Somalia risks being reduced to a pawn — or worse, a client state. The message to Mogadishu’s elites is clear: either rewrite this deal, or history will.

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The Hidden Motives Behind Turkey’s Actions in Somaliland

A Somali refugee is gunned down in broad daylight—and Australia’s justice system may never answer why. The fatal police shooting of a Somali refugee in Melbourne has ignited protests and exposed deep failures in Australia’s treatment of refugees, race, and mental health. 

Footscray protesters held signs with Mr Ahmed’s face on them that read ‘Abdifatah needed support, not bullets’ after police shot dead 35-year-old Abdifatah Ahmed. Picture: Jake Nowakowski / NewsWire

Abdifatah Ahmed did not need a bullet. He needed help. He needed a system that could see his pain and respond with dignity. Instead, he was killed—shot dead by police on the streets of Melbourne in what is quickly becoming a symbol of everything broken in Australia’s treatment of African refugees and people suffering mental health crises.

Victoria Police claim their officers had “seconds to act” when Ahmed, reportedly armed with a knife, failed to comply. But witnesses and community leaders are asking a different question: Why was lethal force the only option? Why, in one of Australia’s most policed cities, was this man met with guns and not compassion?

This isn’t an isolated tragedy—it’s a pattern. Ahmed was a Somali refugee, known to be homeless, struggling with mental illness, and failed by every system meant to protect him. When the call came in, two officers arrived without Tasers. They responded with bullets.

Victoria Police has been forced to defend two officers against allegations of racial profiling as hundreds of protesters gather at the scene of a fatal police shooting in Footscray, protesting the death of Somali refugee Abdifatah Ahmed. Picture: Jake Nowakowski / NewsWire

To the Somali and African communities of Melbourne, this wasn’t just another incident—it was the final, unbearable insult. Hundreds took to the streets chanting “Mental Health Needs Care, Not Bullets.” Some clashed with police. Others lit candles. All of them demanded accountability.

Ahmed’s death has shredded what little trust remained. It has exposed a policing culture where racialized trauma meets a trigger finger—and where leadership too often doubles down rather than listens. The official response? “We reject any claims that this was racially motivated.” That’s it.

Meanwhile, the City of Maribyrnong says it supports an “independent review.” Too little, too late.

This shooting happened days after police rolled out “increased patrols” in the area to “tackle antisocial behaviour.” For many, that announcement felt like a threat, not protection. And now a young man is dead.

Australia says it’s a country of fairness and opportunity. Abdifatah Ahmed came seeking exactly that. He died as yet another victim of a system that saw his skin color before his humanity.

When the state is the aggressor, justice cannot wait. Demand answers. Demand change.

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.

Captured arms spark international uproar as Somalia accused of turning donor aid into tools of regional destabilization. 

Somaliland accuses Somalia of sponsoring militia attacks after seizing weapons marked “Federal Government of Somalia.” Regional tensions flare as calls grow for international investigation.

Somaliland’s armed forces have intercepted a cache of military-grade weapons explicitly marked as belonging to the Somali Ministry of Defense. The discovery, made after a firefight in the Dhuurmadare area of eastern Sanaag on April 18, not only proves Somalia’s military fingerprints in the region—it redefines the nature of the conflict.

The wooden boxes didn’t lie: emblazoned with “MINISTRY OF DEFENSE ARMED FORCES – THE FEDERAL REPUBLIC OF SOMALIA”, and a formal contract number, they obliterate the fiction that Somalia’s arms are strictly used for counterterrorism. Instead, they now appear weaponized for political warfare—against Somaliland.

Somaliland’s Ministry of Defense wasted no time issuing a blistering rebuke, blaming Prime Minister Hamza Abdi Barre directly for orchestrating the attack, just days after his controversial visit to Las Anod. “This is not a rogue operation—it’s a state-sponsored proxy war,” the statement warned. For a government that boasts over 30 years of democratic stability, the incursion represents a red line.

And it raises uncomfortable questions for international donors.

The U.S., U.K., EU, and other Western allies have long funneled military aid to Somalia under the guise of fighting al-Shabaab—a group that now reportedly operates within striking distance of Mogadishu. But with donor-funded weapons showing up in anti-Somaliland insurgent hands, the credibility of that narrative is cracking.

Experts warn this could trigger a donor reckoning. “This is what happens when there’s no oversight,” one analyst told WARYATV. “Western taxpayers may be unknowingly funding attacks on a peaceful, democratic neighbor.”

Somaliland has called for an urgent international inquiry—and this time, the evidence speaks louder than diplomacy.

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

Trump rejects Netanyahu’s war plan, pushes for nuclear talks with Tehran — as Israeli frustration boils.

In a dramatic Oval Office split, Trump shut down a joint Israeli-US strike on Iran’s nuclear sites, triggering outrage in Jerusalem. Is diplomacy a delay tactic—or disaster in the making?

President Donald Trump may have just triggered the biggest rift in US-Israel defense cooperation since the Obama years. According to a bombshell NYT report, Trump personally blocked a fully coordinated Israeli strike package on Iran’s nuclear infrastructure—just weeks before it was set to launch. Israel was prepped. US CENTCOM was involved. Commando units were shelved in favor of all-out bombing runs. But in the final hour, Trump torpedoed the plan and launched direct talks with Tehran instead.

Sources say Netanyahu was blindsided. The visit to Washington, publicly framed around tariffs, quickly turned sour when Trump dropped the bombshell: no military support while diplomacy is on the table. Inside the Oval Office, the tension was visible. Outside, it was electric. Israeli officials saw betrayal. Netanyahu wanted a Libya-style disarmament. Trump? He’s chasing a legacy—an Iran deal to rival Obama’s failed JCPOA.

Back home, Israeli defense analysts are livid. “This was the moment,” one senior IDF figure told WARYATV. “We had operational superiority, regional support, and Iranian air defense already degraded. Now we’re talking again?” Meanwhile, Iran is stalling with a smile. The next round of nuclear talks resumes Saturday in Oman. Tehran already knows the game: negotiate, delay, enrich. By the time diplomacy fails, the uranium is already spinning.

Trump’s team is divided. Vance and Witkoff want to avoid war. Rubio and Waltz say it’s now or never. Meanwhile, Israel may be forced to go solo—and they’re watching those B-2s parked in Diego Garcia very closely.

What’s clear? This isn’t just another missed opportunity. It’s a high-stakes gamble that could reshape the Middle East—for better or for catastrophe.

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.

As Trump freezes $40B in foreign aid, Europe retreats too—fragile states brace for famine, failed states, and forgotten crises.

With USAID frozen and EU aid budgets slashed, NGOs warn of a coming storm. Displaced millions, collapsing health systems, and donor silence mark the next phase of global humanitarian collapse. 

What happens when the world’s biggest aid donors pack up and walk away? We’re about to find out.

The U.S. withdrawal from international aid under Trump’s second term has already gutted dozens of life-saving programs, slashing $40 billion in funding in 90 days and sending shockwaves through NGOs like the Danish Refugee Council (DRC). But Europe isn’t rushing in to fix the fallout—it’s retreating too.

EU countries from Germany to France, Italy and Spain are scaling down their aid commitments, with Berlin alone axing €2.6 billion in just two years. The UK, once a flagship donor, is forecast to sink to a record-low 0.23% of GNI on aid by 2027. Humanitarian funding is collapsing just as global displacement is projected to hit nearly 130 million by 2026.

The result? A growing vacuum of care in conflict zones, climate disaster areas, and fragile states—places like Afghanistan, Sudan, Cameroon, where water, food, and medicine are now disappearing overnight.

NGOs are bleeding out. The DRC alone has already laid off 1,400 staff and warned 2 million people will go unreached. In one stroke, internally displaced Afghans have lost access to clean water. Malnutrition efforts are collapsing. And minefields go uncleared in Colombia.

Even the EU’s much-hyped Global Gateway initiative—the answer to China’s Belt and Road—is too profit-driven to touch the most desperate places.

And while Western leaders posture about controlling migration, terrorism, and instability, they’re gutting the only tools that actually prevent it: resilience-building, gender rights, democracy support, and grassroots aid.

The U.S. is leading this charge backwards, and the EU is not far behind. What’s being left behind isn’t just budget lines—it’s millions of lives on the brink.