When nations speak of economic growth, they refer to tangible progress — industries rising, entrepreneurship thriving, banks expanding capital, and treasuries enforcing stability. Puntland, however, is not a nation of production but of illusion — a fragile bubble inflated by air-money.

Here, in the so-called “stable state of Somalia,” there is no hard cash. There is no meaningful bank deposit system. No treasury. No fiscal control. Puntland’s economy is a digital mirage: numbers on a screen, vulnerable to a technical glitch, a wire cut, or a corporate whim from Golis, Somtel, or MyCash.

What happens when the system collapses for a day? Shops close. Food markets freeze. Salaries vanish. Panic erupts. Families cannot buy a sack of rice or a cup of tea. Life halts — suspended in the invisible cloud of Djibouti’s servers, where the actual money resides, far from Puntland’s reach.

This is not an economy; this is gambling with survival. Mogadishu, with all its corruption and clan feuds, at least enforces some limits on mobile-money. Hargeisa, with its Somaliland experiment, maintains central control. But Puntland — supposedly the veteran of Somali federalism — is running headlong into disaster, surrendering its economy to foreign-controlled telecom giants without oversight, without regulation, without thought.

The erosion of entrepreneurship is clear: who dares to build industry when every shilling is trapped in air-money accounts? Brain drain accelerates — youth flee to escape economic paralysis. Capital flees. What remains is dependency, imported food, imported fuel, imported everything — paid for by digital air that could vanish in a second.

A single software glitch could unleash famine. A banking freeze in Djibouti could bring down Puntland overnight. And yet, leaders sit idle, dreaming of Villa Somalia power games, while their house is on fire.

Puntland’s economy is not fragile. It is suicidal. Built on sand dunes that shift with the desert wind, it waits for the inevitable collapse. When that collapse comes, there will be no bailout, no safety net, no treasury — only hunger, chaos, and regret.

WDM warns: a state without control of its own money is not a state at all. Puntland today is not managing an economy. It is mismanaging a countdown to disaster.

When you read WDM, ask yourself a simple question: Did you pay for it? No. You didn’t. And yet you act like some silent saint, reading in the shadows, lips sealed, hands idle, eyes pretending to be innocent. What is this hypocrisy? You don’t pay, you don’t comment, you don’t share—yet you soak up the fire like a sponge and walk away as if you did WDM a favor by glancing through a few paragraphs.

Do you think WDM survives on your silence? Do you imagine that truth spreads itself without readers lifting a finger? This is the tragedy: our readers are like the Somali opposition—loud in private whispers, invisible in public stance. They consume, they nod in agreement, but when it comes to showing support, they fold like a cheap umbrella in the wind.

This isn’t gratitude, it’s graveyard silence. You read enlightening essays, yet you don’t light a single candle of reaction, not even a flicker of a “like,” not even the courage of a simple share. You read, you smile secretly, and then you lock it up in your head like contraband.

What is your measure of gratitude? To scroll by? To act as if WDM is writing into a void? Do you think knowledge grows stronger by being hidden under your mattress? The enemies of truth celebrate when readers are cowards. Non-participation is their victory.

Reading without engagement is like going to a wedding, eating the food, and sneaking out without clapping for the bride and groom. Worse still, it is like attending a funeral, sitting silently, and refusing to say “Innaa Lillaahi.” What kind of audience is that?

WDM writes. You read. But truth is not a one-way street. If you believe silence is neutrality, you are mistaken. Silence is complicity with ignorance. Silence is betrayal of the very enlightenment you just consumed.

So here is the challenge: break the chains of mute readership. If you can’t pay, at least react. If you can’t contribute, at least share. If you can’t fight, at least stand up and clap. WDM doesn’t ask for your blood, only your finger on the “share” button.

Remember: reading in silence doesn’t make you a thinker—it makes you a ghost.

Didn’t WDM warn you before? Didn’t we tell you that the United States respects only nuclear deterrent, not human rights, not international law, not the suffering of small nations? Welcome to the Alaska Summit — America’s diplomatic theatre where Trump’s megaphone threats dissolved into a Hollywood handshake with Putin.

Trump had promised “consequences” if Russia dared defy him. Consequences? Yes — for Ukraine. The Russian army marches, the world watches, and Trump rolls out the red carpet. A salute, a smile, and a handshake — the ceremony of surrender dressed up as diplomacy.

This was no summit. It was a political striptease — Washington exposing its impotence, Moscow flexing its nuclear chest hair. Ukraine, the bleeding victim, wasn’t even allowed in the room. Peace talks without the war’s primary casualty — a joke so cruel it deserves its own category in international comedy festivals.

And what did Trump offer? Gratitude. Gratitude to Putin for showing up, as if the Russian President had gifted him Alaska back. It was Helsinki 2.0 — only colder, faker, and more humiliating.

WDM says it plainly: America only negotiates when faced with nuclear teeth. Without nukes, you are treated like a mosquito — swatted, ignored, or lectured. With nukes, you are ushered in with trumpets, champagne, and flattery. That is the world order exposed in Alaska: power respects only annihilation.

The Alaska Summit will be remembered not as a breakthrough, but as a capitulation in broad daylight. It was the day Ukraine was erased from its own war, the day US threats turned into a public grovel, the day Trump proved once again that his foreign policy is a reality TV episode with Putin as the producer.

So let’s not call it diplomacy. Let’s call it what it is: Nuclear Blackmail Incorporated, doing business as “Peace Summits.”