Someone had to say it

The first week of 2026 didn’t ease us in. It came in loud, jarring, and unapologetic. While some of us were still shaking off January 1st optimism, the world reminded us that nothing resets just because a year changes. Power plays unfolded on the global stage, moral questions resurfaced without answers, and closer to home, many of us were simply trying to make sense of where we stand emotionally, mentally, and politically.

So this week’s RihView isn’t about pretending things are calm. It’s about sitting with the contradictions. The quiet personal reckoning that happens in early January, alongside the very real reminder that power still moves aggressively and consequences are uneven. And somewhere in between, people are turning to stories - books, fiction, words - just to cope.

2026, Apparently

By January 6th, the New Year glow has already worn off. The fireworks are a memory, the group chats have gone quiet, and most of us are back at work pretending we didn’t make very loud promises to ourselves just a few days ago.

This is usually the point where resolutions start to wobble. The gym feels optional again. The new routine is already inconvenient. And the big declarations about becoming a better, calmer, more evolved version of yourself are quietly renegotiated with reality. But maybe that’s not failure. Maybe that’s honesty.

Because life didn’t magically reset on January 1st. Bills still exist. The country still feels heavy in places. People are still tired. And pretending otherwise, just because it’s a new year, feels exhausting.

We put so much pressure on January to fix what an entire year broke. To heal us. To motivate us. To give us clarity. But real change rarely arrives with fireworks. It shows up slowly, inconsistently, and without an announcement.

So if you’re reading this on January 6th and feeling behind already, you’re not. You’re exactly where most people are. Adjusting, recalibrating, and figuring it out as they go. Maybe this year doesn’t need grand resolutions. Maybe it just needs smaller, quieter intentions. Be a little kinder. React a little slower. Rest when you can. Show up when it matters. And stop treating growth like a performance.

Last Word: January 6th is a better place to start than January 1st, because by now, we’re being honest.

When Power Skips the Fine Print

Donald Trump announced that US troops had carried out a large-scale operation in Venezuela, capturing President Nicolás Maduro and his wife, who now face terrorism and drug charges in New York. The declaration was bold, dramatic, and very on-brand. The legal footing? Less so.

No one’s lining up to defend Maduro’s record. Venezuela’s suffering is real. But what’s making even seasoned observers pause is how comfortably this crossed into territory international law was specifically designed to prevent. Experts have pointed out that the UN Charter explicitly bars the use of military force against another country unless there’s clear self-defence or UN approval, neither of which appears to be on the table here.

So while the headlines celebrate decisive action, the quieter conversation is about precedent. About sovereignty. About what happens when the rules meant to stop global chaos are treated as optional reading. History has shown that these moments rarely end neatly, especially for the people who have to live with the aftermath long after the press conferences are over.

Last Word: Big moves make headlines. Accountability, historically, does not.

When Books Become a Lifeline

More people are turning to something called bibliotherapy, and no, it’s not about forcing yourself through another smug self-help book. It’s about being handed the right story at the right moment. Fiction that mirrors what you’re going through. Characters who make mistakes so you don’t feel so alone making yours.

The idea is simple. When life feels overwhelming, reading can help you process things you don’t yet have words for. A good book doesn’t tell you what to do. It sits with you. It lets you see your grief, your anger, your confusion reflected back without judgment. And sometimes, that’s enough to crack something open.

People who’ve tried bibliotherapy talk about how recognising themselves in fictional lives helped them navigate real ones. Divorce. Depression. Big, messy decisions. Not because the book fixed them, but because it reminded them that others have survived this, too. That there is a before and an after, even if you can’t see the after yet.

In a world obsessed with quick fixes and productivity hacks, there’s something quietly radical about slowing down and letting a story hold you. No affirmations. No ten-step plans. Just pages, sentences, and the relief of realising you’re not the first person to feel this way.

Last Word: Sometimes healing doesn’t come from answers. It comes from recognising yourself in someone else’s story and realising you’ll make it to the last page too.

Until next week, don’t rush the year just because the calendar flipped, stay alert to who gets to act without consequence, and if everything feels too loud, it’s okay to retreat into a book for a bit.

- Rihaab