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Friday briefing: How the Home Office denied a British-born man his citizenship for 15 years

Good morning. The days after my son was born passed in a blur. I remember little of them, except a cab ride to the register office to collect his birth certificate. We confirmed his name, when and where he was born. He was automatically a British citizen, his passport arriving weeks after we applied. The ease of this process is something many of us take for granted. For hundreds of thousands of children born in the UK to parents without settled status, the road to citizenship can be arduous, expensive and uncertain, stretching across years of paperwork and waiting. And that was before the changes, dubbed the largest in a generation, that Labour is proposing to the immigration system. Among home secretary Shabana Mahmood’s main proposals is an intention to double, from five to 10 years, the period of lawful residence required of many people before they may permanently settle in the UK. Campaigners warn that the impact on children would be severe: many more would be born, and grow up, without British citizenship, locked out of the security others receive at birth. To understand what that is like, I spoke to Olu Sowemimo, a youth worker, film-maker, and trustee for the Project for the Registration of Children as British Citizens. That’s after the headlines. In depth: ‘Could today be the day I am detained and deported?’ Olu Sowemimo was born in 1991 in St Guy’s Hospital in London. He spent his childhood around Kennington living what he describes as a normal life for a kid in London. He believed he was British, nothing suggested otherwise. He went to primary school, then secondary school. But then, his troubles began. Sowemimo was groomed into a county lines gang when he was just 13 years old. At 16, he was arrested while in his school uniform, and despite clearly being a vulnerable child, was imprisoned. He described this moment as the start of the journey of when the system failed him. He was released when he was 20 years old, and upon re-entering society, vowed to change his life. He dreamed of making his family and friends proud. He got involved with youth work to support other children being groomed into criminal activity. He applied for his passport. That was when he came in for a horrible shock: his application for a British passport was rejected. “I found out that technically I wasn’t British,” Sowemimo tells me. “This was such a shock to me and to my mother as well. It devastated us. My mother didn’t know I wasn’t a citizen and felt that she had let me down. She was crying a lot. She felt so guilty.” Sowemimo had never stepped foot on a plane or left the UK. Yet, at 20, he was told that he wasn’t a citizen of the only country he had ever known. The process to figure out why, and the journey to try to rectify it would take nearly 15 years. *** Living in limbo Many people are surprised to learn that the UK does not have birthright citizenship. Whether a child is born a British citizen depends on their parents’ status. If either parent is a British citizen or has permanent residency at the time of birth, the child automatically becomes a British citizen. For those who fall outside this definition, things are far more complicated. The charity the Project for the Registration of Children as British Citizens (PRCBC) has an excellent explainer breaking down the complexities of British nationality law. When Sowemimo was born in the UK, his mother, who had migrated from Nigeria, held a visa but had not yet secured permanent residency. She would eventually obtain it, along with citizenship for herself and Sowemimo’s older brother, who was born in Nigeria and migrated with her. She assumed her youngest son would not face immigration problems, having been born in the UK and never having left the country. She, like many parents in her position, was devastated to learn that this assumption was wrong. Sowemimo thought he knew who he was. But the inner rod at the core of his identity was suddenly out of shape. “I slowly started to see myself differently from everybody else. I started to question everything: was I allowed to work?,” he explains. “I started to walk around in a state of fear, worried that at any moment I could be picked up and sent to another country that I don’t know or speak the language of.” His fear wasn’t unfounded. He heard stories of people born in the UK who were held in immigration removal centres. He became terrified of making a mistake. “Every day I’m coming into work, I’m doing all these things in the community, and I’m constantly thinking, could today be the day I am detained and deported?” He sought legal advice immediately, but the lawyers he spoke to seemed as confused as he was. “I thought I would be able to speak to solicitors that have experience dealing with clients with my circumstances, but everybody just kept on saying they would have to seek legal advice,” he tells me. Hope, when it finally arrived, came in the form of Solange Valdez-Symonds, PRCBC’s supervising solicitor and CEO. *** The right to citizenship PRCBC has been campaigning since 2012 to raise awareness of a key provision in nationality law: children born in the UK who have lived here for 10 years and are of “good character” are entitled to be registered as British citizens. Many people, like Sowemimo, are unaware that they should have been registered when they turned 10 (or even earlier if their parent has become settled). The registration process costs £1,214. In 2022, after a legal challenge brought by PRCBC, the government exempted children in care from the fee and introduced a waiver for children who can show they cannot afford the fee. But the controversial “good character” requirement presents a major obstacle. Hundreds of vulnerable British-born children, some as young as 10, have been denied citizenship. As I reported in 2018, refusals are often based on minor offences such as petty theft, or incidents resulting only in a caution or fine. In fact, applicants do not need to have been convicted of, or even charged with, a criminal offence to be denied British citizenship. The Home Office amended its guidance in 2019 after sustained criticism from PRCBC and others about how this character requirement is used to bar people born in the UK from their citizenship rights. But PRCBC says the changes have made little difference, and the Home Office still fails to distinguish between children raised in the UK with rights to be registered and adult migrants applying to naturalise. Sowemimo encountered this barrier when Valdez-Symonds began helping him apply for citizenship. The Home Office initially rejected his application on the basis of a past offence, but Valdez-Symonds and the team at PRCBC worked tirelessly to overturn the decision, documenting the extensive work he had done as a youth worker and volunteer. Many people in Sowemimo’s life struggled to understand what he was going through. “I had to keep explaining to people that I am not making this up. This is not attention seeking. I’m not technically British,” Sowemimo says. “You feel isolated and the depression and anxiety start to kick in. You’re stuck in this place of uncertainty... I know I belong here, that I am of good character, but I had to keep proving and proving and proving it.” *** A British immigrant In 2024, when Sowemimo was 32, he received an email from Valdez-Symonds telling him his application for British citizenship had been approved. The news brought mixed emotions. “I was happy I got my passport and that I could finally travel and know now that I’m British. But there was also an element of deep anger. Why did I have to wait until I was a grown man to find out I was British?” he says. As soon as he knew he was living legally in the UK, he booked his first flight. His destination was Fiji, he says. “I told everybody that the first place I am going is Fiji. The passport came in April, by May, I was gone.” While Sowemimo’s nightmare is now over, campaigners fear many more children will face similar uncertainty under Labour’s proposed changes to the immigration system. I ask him what he would say to policymakers. “These policies are forcing people to really second guess who they are. You’re alienating us from everybody,” he says. “It is horrible to have the fear of being deported to a country we had never stepped foot in, where the people don’t even know us. And if you’re someone like me, you can’t even speak the language of the country they’re saying you are actually from.” Does he now feel British? Sowemimo travels regularly and posts videos on his social media. “I’ve got a passport, so I’m being reminded when I travel that this is where I’m from. But then the memory is still there,” he says. Sometimes he receives comments telling him he is not British. He shrugs them off. “I know who I am. It’s such a shame I needed a little book to confirm that to me. But at this point, I am British. No matter what anybody tells me.” If you are reading this on the app, over the Christmas period the headlines and sport will not appear. To get the full First Edition experience in your inbox every morning please sign up here.

Switzerland to hold five days of mourning after 40 killed in resort fire, as investigators rush to identify victims

Swiss investigators are racing to identify the victims of a fire that tore through a crowded bar, killing about 40 people and injuring 115 who were celebrating at a New Year’s Eve party in the Alpine ski resort of Crans-Montana. President Guy Parmelin has said the country will hold five days of mourning, describing the blaze as one of the most traumatic events in Switzerland’s history. “It was a drama of an unknown scale,” he said, paying tribute to the many “young lives that were lost and interrupted”. Switzerland owed it to those young people, who had their “projects, hopes and dreams” cut short, to ensure such a tragedy never happened again, said the president. The fire broke out at 1.30am on Thursday in the town’s Le Constellation bar, but it’s not yet clear what set off the blaze. Some witnesses said it started after sparklers or flares were put into champagne bottles. Two women told the French broadcaster BFMTV they had been inside when they saw a bartender carrying a female member of staff on his shoulders. She was holding a lit birthday candle on top of a bottle that set fire to the wooden ceiling. The flames spread quickly and caused the ceiling to collapse, they said. Witnesses said the flames set fire to the ceiling, and within seconds the blaze had spread, engulfing a crowded basement packed with revellers. Many were teenagers. One of the women described a crowd surge as people tried desperately to escape up a narrow flight of stairs. Swiss police warned it could take days or even weeks to identify everyone who died in the disaster. The exact number of people who were at the bar when it went up in flames remains unclear, and police have not specified how many are still missing. The canton’s chief prosecutor, Beatrice Pilloud, said significant resources have been deployed “to identify the victims and return their bodies to the families as quickly as possible”. Pilloud said she could not comment on reports that lighted candles had caused the inferno. “An investigation is taking place. It will identify the exact circumstances of what happened,” she said, adding that it would look into whether the bar met safety standards and had the required number of exits. Hundreds gathered in silence in the freezing cold on Thursday evening, laying flowers and lighting candles. Many at the night-time vigil knew people who remain unaccounted for, or were badly injured. Ulysse Brozzo, 16, an instructor at a local ski school, said earlier in the day that several of his friends were in the club at the time. He said he had spoken to some who were safe, but had yet to hear from others he knew were inside when the fire broke out. A friend of a friend was in a coma at Sion hospital. “It’s a total tragedy,” he said. “There were hundreds of people inside.” Parmelin – speaking in his first day in the job as Switzerland’s new head of state – said some of those who survived were “severely injured”. They had suffered serious burns, as well as damage to their lungs. The injured were dispatched to hospitals in Sion, Lausanne, Geneva and Zurich, and others transported to neighbouring countries. The European Union said it has been in contact with Swiss authorities about providing medical assistance, while the French president, Emmanuel Macron, said some of the injured were being cared for in French hospitals. Some of those caught up in the fire were visiting the ski resort from neighbouring countries. Italy’s foreign ministry said 16 of its nationals were missing and 12 were among the injured. France said eight of its citizens were missing and it could not rule out that French nationals were among the dead. One Australian was among the injured. Crans-Montana is a bustling resort town of about 10,000 people perched high in the Valais canton of the Swiss Alps, with a view across the valley to the famed Matterhorn mountain. Unlike nearby Verbier, which attracts a wealthy anglophone crowd, Crans-Montana is popular mainly with wealthy Europeans. Brozzo said the venue was set over two floors, with a bar on the main floor and narrow stairs leading to a basement nightclub below, where he speculated it would have been possible for people to have become trapped and incapacitated from smoke inhalation. Speaking on Thursday morning, Mathias Reynard, the president of the Valais canton, said what should have been a moment of celebration “turned into a nightmare”. He said he was devastated by the tragedy. “I can’t hide from you that we are all shaken by what happened overnight in Crans,” he told a press conference. Le Constellation opened in 2015 and could accommodate up to 300 people inside, with room for a further 40 on a heated terrace, French media reported. The owner of the Dédé clothing store, directly across the street from Le Constellation, said the venue was a popular destination for younger people – including the children of her friends, who would often drink there from as young as 14 years old. François, 17, a ski instructor who said he had often partied at the bar, said new year parties were known as being more lax in terms of checking the age of bar entrants. The town relies heavily on a largely European clientele who come to ski, eat in the Michelin-starred restaurants and shop at Moncler and Louis Vuitton stores. It has about 3,000 hotel rooms and 10,000 residents. In a region busy with tourists skiing on the slopes, the authorities have called on people to show caution in the coming days. They urged them to avoid any accidents that could require medical resources that are already overwhelmed.

‘Truly humbling’: inside the centre where UK medics are helping Ukrainian amputees

At a specialist treatment centre in Ukraine, as other amputees play volleyball nearby, Vladislav shows a video on his phone of how he lost his left leg. He found the footage – of a drone closing in rapidly on a buggy, Vladislav standing exposed at its rear – on a Russian military social media channel. The 31-year-old, an arbitration lawyer before Russia launched its full-scale invasion in 2022, makes a double whistling noise to describe the drone’s ominous progress. “That’s me,” he says, pointing at the video, filmed from a fibre optic drone, chasing him down with terrifying ease as the vehicle slows for a corner. Then the screen goes blank. Vladislav was driving between positions somewhere near Lyman, in the north-east of Ukraine, on 21 August when his life changed for ever. An explosion “bam on the left ear” threw him and the driver to the ground. Still conscious, he could see the injury to his left leg was obviously very serious. But this was not his immediate priority. “To be honest, I checked my crotch, if everything’s in the right place,” he says, grinning. The check was affirmative and so in that moment, the stricken soldier says, he reasoned life was worth still living. “Only after that, I turned my tourniquet.” That choked off the blood supply to his left leg, giving himself a chance of survival. The respite was short. Once rescued, Vladislav was soon losing consciousness. “I don’t know if it’s real or a common trope, but pictured in my memory I saw a white tunnel with a light at the end.” But it was not the end. “My comrade fell on me with his elbow on my wounded leg and I opened my eyes with every curse I knew.” Dozens of seriously wounded Ukrainians such as Vladislav, who have had or need to have amputations, come to this specialist treatment centre every month. No one will say exactly how many are being treated here, but across Ukraine crude estimates suggest the total number of amputees runs well into the tens of thousands. Providing help, support and advice to Ukrainian staff at the centre are a small number of British military personnel – doctors, physiotherapists and occupational therapists from the UK’s defence medical services, part of Project Renovator. The Guardian observed some of their work during a day visit, including sessions where British practitioners discussed their use of temporary prosthetics with Ukrainian counterparts. “The numbers here are truly humbling,” says Mike, a British rehab consultant and an army lieutenant colonel, who is part of the UK team helping out. Mike worked in Afghanistan, where the British military was present until 2014, and says professionals like himself can contribute “an understanding of complex amputee rehabilitation” and “can help move their patients on to new legs quicker”. He is keen to emphasise that the British presence works both ways, in that there are opportunities for him and his colleagues to learn. Thanks to a combination of innovative surgery, electrical stimulation and rehab, the Ukrainians “are managing to fix nerve injuries faster than I’ve previously seen”, he says. Britain has only minimally acknowledged a wider military presence in Ukraine, beyond its staffing at the embassy in Kyiv. Security measures around the medical crew remain tight, with only Mike able to be identified. “I’m proud that the UK is stepping up to ensure wounded Ukrainian soldiers get the best possible treatment,” said John Healey, the defence secretary, praising their work. He said their goal was to work alongside Ukrainian teams “to deliver care and rehabilitation”, an effort that will have to continue long after the war finally ends. There are a wide range of classes, and family and friends are able to visit unless the staff believe it would be unhelpful to an individual’s recovery. Part of the approach is to have “psychologically aware clinicians”, according to Mike, who can identify when patients run into mental problems. But a key part, as the volleyball shows, is being part of a group so the wounded can motivate each other. Vladislav’s case is one of the simpler. He hopes to have a final prosthetic leg ready soon and to be discharged earlythis year. He says his mental state is strong, though at some point after two or four weeks, when he was on his own, he admits, “I cried a lot”. It was “like a divorce” until he eventually thought: “Let it be.” What helped, the former lawyer says, was having his family nearby, including baby son Adam. However, he says: “I did not tell my wife about my injury for around a month and a half because she was pregnant.” Two weeks after Adam’s birth he told her what had happened, though by then she had “suspected something”, he admits. Oleksandr, 48, is a former fitness teacher and swimming instructor who had both his legs amputated below the knee after an artillery shell landed close to him on 18 October 2024. After he arrived at the treatment centre, a succession of further surgeries proved necessary. One was to stabilise his wound, which had become infected; later, a metal brace was attached to the bone so the prosthetics would fit. It has been a long, gruelling treatment, including a month in intensive care, and at one point Oleksandr wells up in tears at the thought of it. “In the beginning it was hard for me just to sit in the wheelchair. I was sweating immediately,” he says. But gradually, going to the gym with rehabilitation experts helped, and at some point as his exercising gradually improved, “I knew then I would get through,” he says. There is a brightness and purpose in his eyes now but the future is uncertain. He wants to leave this year, when his legs are ready. “I hope I will be able to get back to my job as a fitness trainer,” he says. “But I just don’t know. I just need to understand what my abilities will be on the prostheses, how long I can walk. When I will learn walking, I will understand what my abilities are.”

Venezuela open to talks on drug trafficking, says Maduro, but refuses to comment on reported US strike on land

Venezuela is open to negotiating an agreement with the US to combat drug trafficking, the country’s president Nicolás Maduro has said, but he declined to comment on a reported CIA-led strike on a Venezuelan docking area that Donald Trump claimed was used by cartels. Maduro, in the pre-recorded interview with Spanish journalist Ignacio Ramonet, reiterated his belief that the US wants to force a change of government in Venezuela and gain access to its vast oil reserves through its months-long pressure campaign that began with a massive military deployment to the Caribbean Sea in August. “What are they seeking? It is clear that they seek to impose themselves through threats, intimidation and force,” Maduro said, later adding that it is time for both nations to “start talking seriously, with data in hand.” The Trump administration has accused Maduro of heading a drug cartel and says it is cracking down on trafficking, accusations he denies. “The US government knows, because we’ve told many of their spokespeople, that if they want to seriously discuss an agreement to combat drug trafficking, we’re ready,” he said. “If they want oil, Venezuela is ready for US investment, like with Chevron, whenever they want it, wherever they want it and however they want it.” Chevron is the only major oil company exporting Venezuelan crude to the US. Venezuela has the world’s largest proven oil reserves. In the interview, Maduro refused to confirm whether the US had carried out an attack inside Venezuela, after Trump on Monday said the US had hit a docking facility that served Venezuelan drug trafficking boats last month. Asked point-blank about the attack, Maduro said “this could be something we talk about in a few days.” US media – including the Associated Press – has reported that the CIA was behind the strike which was made using a drone. If confirmed, the first strike on land would mark a new phase in a campaign that since August has involved the deployment of a massive US naval fleet, airstrikes on alleged drug traffickers and a “total blockade” of sanctioned oil tankers, the seizure of two vessels and the pursuit of a third. Maduro said he has not spoken to Trump since a conversation they had on 12 November, which he described as cordial and respectful. “I think that conversation was even pleasant, but since then the evolution has not been pleasant. Let’s wait,” he said. The interview was recorded on New Year’s Eve, the same day the US military announced strikes against five alleged drug-smuggling boats. The latest attacks bring the total number of known boat strikes to 35 and the number of people killed to at least 115, according to numbers announced by the Trump administration. Venezuelans are among the victims. Trump has justified the attacks as a necessary escalation to stem the flow of drugs into the United States and asserted that the US is engaged in an “armed conflict” with drug cartels. The strikes began off Venezuela’s Caribbean coast and later expanded to the eastern Pacific Ocean. With the Associated Press and Agence France-Presse

Strike a pose: vogue balls go mainstream in New Zealand

In a large gallery at New Zealand’s national museum in Wellington, a 600-strong crowd cheers ecstatically as a group of fabulously dressed performers take to the stage. In impossibly high heels, the predominantly Māori and Pasifika (Indigenous people of the Pacific Islands) performers twist their arms into geometric forms and spiral to the ground, contorting their bodies into outstretched shapes. Other performers parade their highly stylised costumes, while some embody the struts, poses and attitudes of supermodels. A panel of judges preside over the show like royalty – if they like what they see, they’ll hand out “10s across the board”, if not, you’re “chopped”. This is a vogue ball, a form of performance and self-expression developed by a queer Black and Latinx subculture in 1960s Harlem that has found life in New Zealand’s Māori and Pasifika queer communities and is now winning over the mainstream. “There is something really visceral about seeing black, brown, queer, indigenous bodies so authentically and unapologetically be themselves,” says Cypris Afakasi, who is known as Fatheir Fang of the Auckland-based Kiki House of Coven-Aucoin. In ballroom culture, a “house” is a collective of performers – headed by mother or father figures – who compete together at ballroom events and become a chosen family in and out of the ballroom scene. Performances have elements of drag, dance and fashion, and often centre around a ball where performers “walk” in front of judges. Vogue balls arose in New York as an act of resistance against racism in the local drag scene. The culture found wider fame as the subject of Jennie Livingston’s 1991 documentary Paris is Burning, and has influenced countless entertainers, including Madonna, with her 1990 hit Vogue, reality competition show RuPaul’s Drag Race and TV show Pose. Those unfamiliar with ballroom culture may be familiar with some of its vernacular: “realness”, “yas queen” and “throwing shade”. In more recent years, the culture has flourished around the world. New Zealand’s scene began more than 10 years ago in Auckland, led by trans Pasifika and Māori people, seeking a safe place to express their identities and find community. “Every day for us is a survival … ballroom is an outlet for resistance,” says Karamera, a Māori artist and a house mother of Wellington-based Kiki House of Marama. Karamera launched Wellington’s first house with their friend Romé, in 2023 after attending a ball at Wellington’s city art gallery in 2020. “To see other people holding themselves in a ballroom space who come from similar backgrounds is what really assured us,” Karamera says. “We never looked back and have been immersed in ballroom culture since then.” Early on, they performed in living rooms to a handful of people. Two years later, their house has 16 members and their venues and audiences have transformed – from lounges and clubs to Wellington’s largest ever ball held at the national museum, Te Papa Tongarewa, in October. The museum held the community with care and love, Karamera said. “They were such an example of allyship – I encourage other institutions to follow their example and allow the girls to feel like the celebrities they are.” Te Papa’s public programming manager, Rachel Fox, said ballroom has become more visible in New Zealand in the past five years, partly due to public institutions platforming the culture. “By being part of what ballroom looks like, through collaborations like this, Te Papa is actively creating a more inclusive and affirming cultural landscape,” she said. While New Zealand’s community draws heavily from New York’s scene, it has taken on a distinctly Māori and Pasifika tone, which shows up in music, styling and cultural references. “Because we are so connected to our identities in Aotearoa [New Zealand] – whether it’s a counter-culture or ethnic-culture – it’s really important for us to honour the integrity of it,” said Afakasi, who is Samoan and Māori. Like its origins, New Zealand’s scene is a platform for political resistance. During a ball at the Dowse Art Museum in late 2024, House of Marama member, Kiwi, ripped up a piece of paper depicting the government’s highly controversial treaty principles bill, echoing the viral moment Te Pati Māori MP Hana-Rāwhiti Maipi-Clarke tore it up in parliament and led a haka. “To [Kiwi], it was not just the ripping of the bill, it was the action of just tearing everything down, especially in a world that just isn’t made for her,” Karamera said. “People who perform in ballroom offer a different perspective on life and how they choose to either honour it or completely dismantle it.” More than anything, however, it is a place where people leave feeling more excited about life, Karamera said, and for those who have never attended one, “get ready to be wowed by queer excellence”. “When I dip on a stage, it is very much … all eyes on me, you’re all on my time, I’m going to give you a show, and, you’re welcome.”

Kim Jong-un’s daughter visits state mausoleum, fuelling speculation she will be next North Korean ruler

The daughter of the North Korean ruler, Kim Jong-un, who is likely being prepared as his successor has accompanied her parents on her first public visit to the Kumsusan mausoleum to pay respects to former leaders, ahead of an event that could see her succession formalised. Photos from state news agency KCNA showed Kim Jong-un accompanied by his wife, Ri Sol-ju, and senior officials on the visit on 1 January, with Ju-ae between her parents in the main hall of the Kumsusan Palace of the Sun. The North Korean leader visits Kumsusan to honour his grandfather, state founder Kim Il-sung, and his father, Kim Jong-il, on key dates and anniversaries. Kim Ju-ae has been making increasingly prominent appearances in state media over the past three years, fuelling speculation by analysts and South Korea’s intelligence agency that she is in line to be the country’s fourth-generation dictator. Cheong Seong-chang, vice-president at the Sejong Institute thinktank, viewed Ju-ae’s first public visit to the Kumsusan palace as a calculated move from her father, ahead of the upcoming ruling party congress at which her succession might be formalised. Hong Min, an expert on North Korea at the state-run Korea Institute for National Unification, said North Korea had been portraying an image of Kim’s “stable family” by showing his wife and daughter with him at major events. However, the potential roles of Kim’s other children have left room for caution in drawing conclusions about Ju-ae’s succession, Hong said. “It’s practically impossible to publicly designate Kim Ju-ae, who is believed to have just turned 13, as the successor when she’s not even old enough to join the [Workers’] party,” Hong said. Kim Ju-ae, who is believed to have been born in the early 2010s, attended this year’s New Year celebrations, according to state media. In September, she travelled to Beijing with her father on her first public overseas outing. North Korea has never confirmed her age. With Reuters

Ukraine war briefing: Kyiv’s GUR ‘faked Russian-ordered killing and bagged $500k Kremlin reward’

Ukraine staged the death of a high-ranked Russian fighting on Kyiv’s side to prevent him being killed on Moscow’s orders and lure out those involved in the plot, Ukrainian military intelligence announced on Thursday. The GUR military intelligence unit said the ruse even netted the $500,000 Russian reward for the “killing” of Denis Kapustin – also known as Denis Nikitin – leader of the Russian Volunteer Corps and “Timur Special Unit”, which had announced on Saturday that Kapustin was killed on the frontline. On Thursday, Kapustin appeared via video link at a briefing with the head of Ukrainian military intelligence, Kyrylo Budanov. His assassination, the GUR and Timur unit said, “was ordered by the special services of the aggressor state Russia, which allocated half a million dollars to carry out the crime … As a result of a comprehensive special operation [his life] was preserved, and the circle of individuals was identified: the masterminds within the Russian special services and the perpetrators.” The Timur unit announced: “Our side also received a corresponding amount of funds allocated by Russian intelligence agencies for the implementation of this crime.” Budanov said in a video posted online, showing himself and Kapustin: “First of all, Mr Denis, I congratulate you on returning to life. This is always a pleasure. I’m glad that the funds received from ordering your liquidation went to help our fight.” Kapustin, according to the AFP news agency, has a controversial past linked to the far right and football hooliganism, and some of his fighters have voiced neo-Nazi views. Ukrainian drones struck energy and industrial targets across the Russian regions of Krasnodar, Tatarstan and Kaluga overnight into Thursday, local officials said. The attacks started fires the Ilskiy oil refinery in Krasnodar; at an energy storage facility in the city of Almetyevsk, in Tatarstan’s Volga River region; and at an industrial facility in the town of Lyudinovo, in the Kaluga region south-west of Moscow. The Ukrainian military confirmed it struck the facilities in Krasnodar and Tatarstan. Russia and Ukraine accused each other of targeting civilians over New Year’s, with Moscow reporting a deadly strike on a hotel in territory it occupies in southern Ukraine, in response to which Kyiv said it strictly sticks to military and energy targets. The Ukrainian governor of Kherson region, Oleksandr Prokudin, said a man was killed and an 87-year-old woman injured in attacks on the city on Thursday. Ukrainian deputy prime minister Oleksiy Kuleba said rail facilities were attacked in three regions.

‘We are always living in fear’: inside Myanmar’s ‘sham’ election

Yangon feels, on the surface, like a normal, bustling city. In downtown areas, commuters stream past roadside sellers and diners perch beneath parasols. Packed buses and cars chug along the roads. At sunset, young people stop to pose for photos opposite the famous Sule pagoda, as it gleams against a pink-blue sky. But almost five years on from the military seized power in a coup, ousting and imprisoning then de facto leader Aung San Suu Kyi, life for local people feels anything but stable. Myanmar’s military rulers are in the process of holding the first elections since before the coup, a vote that the junta has touted as a return to democracy and stability. The UN and western governments have called the process, which will be held in three phases ending on 25 January, a sham. “We are always living in fear,” says a commuter, stopping briefly to speak. “[Before the coup] we had such hope for the future. We were not at all afraid of our government. Now all that has changed,” she says. “We cannot speak our voices to others freely,” she adds. Like everyone interviewed on the streets of Yangon, she didn’t want to give her name, or speak for long. After the coup on 1 February 2021, these streets were packed with protesters demanding the return of democracy. Hundreds of thousands rallied across the country – until the military crushed protests with deadly force. More than 400 people were killed in the streets by the end of March. Tens of thousands have been arrested since. Many fled to rural areas to form a patchwork of groups that make up an anti-junta resistance, at times fighting with help from more experienced ethnic armed groups that have long demanded greater autonomy. By late 2023 war had spread across two-thirds of the country. Yangon is detached from the fierce conflict that is raging elsewhere in the country, where military air and drone strikes happen daily. Attacks have repeatedly been condemned as indiscriminate. Life in the city is fraught with anxiety, though. “Yangon isn’t like the old Yangon any more,” says an online influencer, who spoke under the pseudonym Hnin Sandar. “Yangon isn’t a happy place like before.” “My friends remind me, don’t talk about politics even in a taxi or on the bus because they are listening,” she adds. It is safer to keep your head down, and never to speak your mind, even about something non-political, she says: “I feel like I’m living in jail.” Images of Aung San Suu Kyi, the country’s most loved politician, which were once seen in shops, on the streets and government offices, have been removed. Generators sit on the sides of pavements, a reminder of how businesses have been forced to adapt, at great expense, to worsening power cuts. At night-time, the streets fall silent. Some young people stay until the early hours in bars and clubs that have been flooded with drugs, looking for a temporary escape from the country’s political turmoil. Most remain at home, terrified they could be arrested or taken by the authorities, and forced to serve the military in the country’s brutal civil war. Almost everyone knows of someone who has been snatched on the street. Aung Moe*, a Yangon resident, says his friend disappeared after being pulled into a passing taxi. “[They] dragged him inside the car, put a blindfold on him and they took his phone, and made him call his family and ask for a ransom,” he says. The family were unable to pay the demand of USD$1,200. No one has heard from him since. Mandatory conscription was enacted by the military in 2024, after it lost vast swathes of territory to anti-coup groups. Young men who had enough money to leave, did so. Ei* works in a garment factory in the city, but is from Rakhine state, where there is intense conflict between the military, and opposition groups. She hasn’t seen her family for seven years, and agonises over whether she should have returned home earlier, or if she was right to stay working in Yangon, sending money back. In her home village, people have been killed just going out to fish, she says. “I wish at least for just one week I could escape everything, and not have to think or worry about anything,” Ei Phoo says. “I don’t want to hear bad news any more.” She can no longer take overtime as it is too unsafe to travel back from work late at night, and her small business, selling cosmetics to colleagues, has stopped because so many people have left the city. At the same time, inflation has surged, driven by the collapse of Myanmar’s currency, the kyat, which has dropped 80% in value since the coup. Since 2020, Myanmar’s gross domestic product has contracted by 9%, according to the UN, reversing the huge economic progress the country made during its decade-long transition to democracy. The signs of the rapid transformation Myanmar underwent during those 10 years are imprinted on Yangon. When the country opened up to the world, international investment flooded in: condos, luxury hotels and malls opened in the city. The poverty rate roughly halved from 48.2% in 2005 to 24.8% in 2017, according to the World Bank. Today, many foreign businesses have withdrawn from the country, and tourists have disappeared. At Bogyoke Aung San market, woven bags and traditional fabrics hang from stall fronts, jewellery and carved wooden souvenirs are displayed in rows. The aisles would once have been packed with travellers from around the world. Nowadays, business is slow, says a shop owner. “Before the coup, we were rocketing our hopes and dreams,” says Hnin Sandar. “But after the coup, we are doing what we need to survive.” In past elections, people turned out in their droves to vote, the streets awash in red, the colour of Aung San Suu Kyi’s National League for Democracy. She remains in prison, aged 80, and her party, which won a sweeping victory in 2020, is banned. A young pro-democracy activist, who speaks from exile in Thailand, says he remains confident the resistance will win. But it will take time, he says. The military’s entrenched power goes back decades. “We didn’t think we could solve [the military’s dominance] during this five years.” Young people are prepared to continue resisting, he says, guessing it could take another five or ten years. Activists fear this month’s election, which is happening at a time when the junta, supported by China has regained momentum on the battleground, could give the military greater legitimacy abroad. At polling stations on Sunday, TV screens played a jarringly upbeat tune. “Hey dear friends, so that a colourful future may bloom, let us choose those who will shape tomorrow,” the lyrics went, as a woman on the screen smiled and swayed. A few metres away, police armed with guns watched on. Turnout was 52% on Sunday, according to the junta, compared with about 70% in Myanmar’s 2020 and 2015 elections. In some areas people voted out of fear, anxious they could be conscripted as punishment for not doing so, or prevented from leaving the country. Large areas of the country are completely excluded from the vote because they are gripped by intense fighting. The military has rejected criticism of the election, insisting it will be free and fair. Will the vote make a difference to the country’s economic and political crisis? “It’s 50-50” says one man, aged 23. He says he didn’t feel excited to vote, but it was his duty. Many voters declined to speak, worrying it was too unsafe to do so. Away from the polling stations, a young man pauses to take in the sunset as he makes his way home from work. He was among the protesters who gathered in 2021, he says. Today, doing so is impossible. “The authorities immediately find out and come to arrest them,” he says. “They pretend, they want to show the world that they made an election, that they go back to democracy, but we all know the result,” he adds. “There is no competitor.” He did not go to vote, he says. Many in Yangon shared in the same act of quiet defiance. * Name has been changed