November 16, 2025 – News Briefs

When a minister mistakes war for his own personal cinema!

One begins to wonder whether this minister is confusing war with a casting call for Apocalypse Now 2 - so readily does he reach for titles that sound as if he wants to immortalize himself in the role of the helicopter commander. It is the rhetoric of a man who seems to view politics as a mixture of cinema, war romanticism and self dramatization.

What stands out is how consistently Pete Hegseth avoids any sober assessment of the situation, as if he feared becoming invisible without dramatic emotional rhetoric. His words sound as if they were taken from an advertisement for a poorly made military blockbuster - grand gestures, thundering imagery, but hardly any substance. At the same time there is a disturbing lightness in this choice of titles, as if the seriousness of the moment were merely a backdrop for his public appearance. And it is precisely this blend of showmanship and flight from reality that reveals how far some officials have already drifted from the level headedness that would be necessary in times of genuine danger.

When the wrong claim turns into a program!

“I hope that she can do in the USA what she does for the German people” is one of those sentences. Sentences that reveal more than any long explanation. Not because of what is said, but because of the idea behind it: that a single influencer is elevated to the role of spokesperson for an entire country, as if she carried some kind of mandate that no one has ever given her. Many people react with anger, and they have every reason to. Someone who has spent years moving through right wing networks, playing down climate change and presenting herself in the USA as an opponent of science and education does not speak “for the German people”. She speaks for a political scene that lives off blurring lines: between opinion and mission, between a private stage and a public mandate.

That WELT spreads this sentence without any distance comes across as a gift to those who like to present Germany as a uniform construct, guided by self appointed “truth messengers”. The majority of this country, the people who work, doubt, discuss and do not allow themselves to be pushed into rigid patterns, do not appear in such sentences. That does not make them invisible. It only shows how carelessly some media are willing to confuse role and reach. Anyone who claims that a single person speaks for “the German people” is really saying one thing above all: that he has little to do with the real country, with its diversity and its everyday life. And that is exactly why so many are upset. Not because of her. But because of the claim that stands above everything, and that is simply not true.

Brazil’s Streets Demand Real Climate Action

In Belém, this Saturday felt like a displaced political tremor. Thousands moved through the city, some in black dresses like at a funeral for the old energies, others in bright red shirts meant to recall the blood of those who lost their lives defending their forests, rivers and territories. What so often gets lost in the noise of summit rooms took on a face here – and a volume no one could ignore. Early on, groups from across Latin America formed: Indigenous delegations, climate defenders, farmers’ organizations, youth groups. On trucks with thundering loudspeakers, organizers urged the crowd forward, while oversized flags, palm hats made from Babaçu leaves and hand painted signs turned the march into a moving mosaic. For many, it was the first climate summit in years where protest was even possible – unlike those previously held in the United Arab Emirates, in Egypt or Azerbaijan.

For 27 year old activist Ana Heloisa Alves, the day felt like a turning point. She is fighting for the Tapajós, the river the Brazilian government wants to develop commercially. “The river belongs to the people,” read the signs carried by her group. It was one of those sentences that suddenly rippled through the crowd because everyone sensed how much it contained: loss, anger, hope.

The march moved four kilometers through the city and ever closer to the COP30 venue. On Tuesday, protesters had blocked two entrances, and two security guards were slightly injured. And yet the pressure persisted, because inside the conference halls negotiations were underway over sums that determine the future of entire regions: 300 billion dollars a year that wealthy countries are supposed to provide so that poorer nations can move away from fossil fuels, adapt to heat waves, floods or crop failures, and ease damage after extreme weather. While delegates debate this, the streets show what many feel is missing: real participation. Activist Pablo Neri from the state of Pará said the climate struggle has long since become a movement broader than any negotiation round. “People need to be included – otherwise nothing will change.” And Flavio Pinto, who moved through the crowd on stilts and wearing a huge top hat styled like the U.S. flag, found clear words. He waved fake dollar bills printed with Trump’s face – a reference to the fact that the United States under Trump once again is not participating in the summit. His sign read: “Imperialism produces wars and environmental crises.”

But it was not only about geopolitical accusations. For many of the women from the Babaçu collective, who marched wearing their woven palm hats, the protest was also an expression of their culture, their dignity and their everyday life. They are demanding access to the palms that have shaped their lives for generations – and that are increasingly disappearing onto private land. As the march climbed the hill toward the last major intersection, red, white and green flags filled the air like a fluttering sea. In front of a supermarket, people crowded along the railings, raised their phones, filmed, applauded. “Beautiful,” an older man said as he paused with his grocery bags and watched the marchers pass.

No one yet knows whether this COP30 will bring the progress promised for years. But this day made one thing clear: The world outside no longer waits for summits to save anything. It takes to the streets itself – loud, diverse, determined.

The President and the Sentence That Stayed – A Scene from Mar-a-Lago

It was a wedding evening that rarely passes quietly at Mar-a-Lago. Eric Metaxas, Christian author and well connected politically, recounts a moment that immediately lodged under the skin: Donald Trump entered the room, pointed at him and laughed that he was “the man who is going to get me to heaven.” A sentence half joke, half self display – and yet typical for a president who likes to use religion as a stage.

Metaxas responded just as lightly, reminding Trump of a label he himself had coined: “You are America’s Supercentennial President.” A title that promises grandeur and at the same time reveals how closely religious symbolism and political ambition have merged. The author writes he would like to truly talk about faith with him one day – only this was not the place. The brief moment revealed more than the participants may have intended: about Trump’s self staging, about the closeness between politics and religious influencers and about the willingness of many to blur these roles. One joking line was enough – and suddenly the question hovered in the room of who is guiding whom: the president guiding the audience or the audience guiding the president.

The Return of a Provocation – “Best Friends Forever” Statue Has Returned

In Washington, a sight reappeared on Friday that many thought had long faded: in front of the restaurant Busboys and Poets, the satirical statue “Best Friends Forever” emerged – a larger than life depiction of Donald Trump and Jeffrey Epstein, holding hands, smiling, motionless in the streetlight. The installation comes from the anonymous artist collective The Secret Handshake, which had briefly placed the figure on the National Mall years ago. Now it is back – in the middle of a political moment when Epstein’s newly released emails have again put discussions about Trump at the center.

Passersby stopped, took photos, some laughed, others shook their heads. For some, the statue is an artistic commentary on a chapter that has never been closed. For others, it is a deliberate jab at the political present. Officially, no one wanted to comment – neither the collective nor city authorities. But the message stands silently in the air: In this city, the streets forget nothing.