The Spectator - No, Elon Musk didn’t make a fascist salute

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No, Elon Musk didn’t make a fascist salute

Brendan O’Neill21 January 2025, 10:40am

Elon Musk on stage at a post-inauguration rally (Getty images)

We’re not even 24 hours into the second Donald Trump term and already there’s a ‘New Nazis’ panic. Only this time it’s not The Donald who’s being branded Hitler 2.0. It’s his billionaire pal and state-slashing tsar, Elon Musk.

The Guardian says Musk did ‘back-to-back fascist salutes’.

At yesterday’s wacky inauguration, a giddy Musk gave a speech during which he saluted the crowd. I’ll be honest – it was a weird salute. He slapped his right hand against his chest and then threw his right arm upwards, diagonally and with vigour. He did it twice. His facial expression was an odd blend of love and anger.

Within seconds, X – the platform he owns – was awash with Nazi chatter. ‘He’s Sieg Heiling!’, people cried. The Guardian says Musk did ‘back-to-back fascist salutes’. It furnished us with the official definition of a Nazi salute – ‘raising an outstretched right arm with the palm down’ – so that we would know just what evil Elon was up to.

Commentators watched and rewatched Musk’s gesture, analysing the angle of his arm, the positioning of his hand. And they’re in no doubt: he was being Hitlerish. ‘Elon Musk’s “odd-looking” salute sure looked like a “Sieg Heil” to me’, said a writer for USA Today. Okay then: case closed.

Look, none of us knows what’s going on in Musk’s mind. I’m not convinced he himself knows half the time. But are we really meant to believe that one of the world’s best-known entrepreneurs decided to come out as a Hitler fanboy at the inauguration of the 47th President of the United States? Does that not sound a little far-fetched to you?

In the longer clip of Musk’s supposed fascist antics, you can hear him say ‘My heart goes out to you’ as he throws his right arm from his chest towards the crowd. Come on, this was just a goofy guy giving his heart to an adoring audience of Trumpists. As Batya Ungar-Sargon said over at Newsweek, this wasn’t a Nazi unmasking himself before the eyes of the world – it was ‘a man with Asperger’s exuberantly throwing his heart to the crowd’. For what it’s worth, Musk himself has responded to the attacks by saying that his opponents needed ‘better dirty tricks’ and that ‘the ‘everyone is Hitler’ attack is sooo tired’.

Even the Anti-Defamation League, the NGO that fiercely fights anti-Semitism, is sceptical of the Musk-as-fascist nonsense. He ‘made an awkward gesture in a moment of enthusiasm, not a Nazi salute’, it said. America is entering a new era, said the ADL, so how about we ‘give one another a bit of grace, perhaps even the benefit of the doubt’?

What a quaint and refreshing idea – that instead of dogpiling people and screaming ‘HITLER’ in their faces, we should show them a little good faith. It will never catch on. In this clash between random rancorous Trump-haters on the internet who insist Musk did a Sieg Heil and the ADL’s expert warriors against Jew hate who say he did not, I’m going with the ADL.

There’s a pungent whiff of desperation to the branding of Musk as a Hitler lover. It seems some on the left have yet to outgrow their Rick-from-The-Young-Ones habit of bellowing ‘Nazi’ at everyone they dislike. They don’t care if it’s inaccurate. They don’t even care that it’s a species of historical relativism that risks diminishing the crimes of the Nazi era by comparing the pretty normal political stuff of the 2020s with the unique barbarism of the 1930s.

No, all that matters is that it makes them feel good. Barking ‘Nazi!’ at right-wingers allows sun-starved online leftists to fleetingly feel like warriors against fascism. They get to cosplay as modern-day International Brigadiers without having to leave their bedrooms. It’s not Musk who’s the saddo – it’s this army of idle insulters.

The left knows that history is leaving them behind. That the momentum is no longer with their racial hucksterism, gender lunacy and cancel culture, but rather with those millions of good, working people who are sick of such eccentric ideologies and who are looking to the likes of Trump to crush them. Their wails of ‘Nazi!’ are best seen as the rage of the left behind, the dying howls of a political clique wholly rejected by all normal people.

Their wails of ‘Nazi!’ are best seen as the rage of the left behind

What is really hilarious, and almost endearing, is the left’s belief that it still has the moral authority to hold forth on ‘fascism’. This is a left which, for the past 15 months, following Hamas’s fascistic pogrom against the Jews of Southern Israel, has marched shoulder to shoulder with jihadists calling for further attacks on the Jewish nation. Which has mingled with radical Islamists dreaming of the return of the ‘Army of Muhammd’ to finish off the Jews. Which has waved placards showing the Star of David mangled with the Nazi swastika to imply that Jews are now Nazis. Which has insisted that ‘the Zionists’ control the media. And which has attended demos at which people have done literal Nazi salutes in the faces of Jews.

And they still think they can wag a finger at others for allegedly being fascist-adjacent? Oh comrades, that ship has sailed. In fact it has sunk. It is so over for you people.

Lionel Shriver, Freddy Gray and Kate Andrews discuss Trump’s inauguration on the latest Americano podcast:

Unherd - Why Europe fears free speech

(personal underlines)

https://unherd.com/2025/01/why-europe-fears-free-speech/?status=Non-subs&utm_medium=email&utm_source=CampaignMonitor_Editorial&utm_campaign=LNCH%20%2020250113%20%20House%20Ads%20%20SM+CID_ab0a4f546c1fbd699583cf9590cf966b

Why Europe fears free speech

Wolfgang Munchau

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January 13, 2025   5 mins

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We all know the old joke: when a European referendum delivers the “wrong” outcome, the country votes again until they get it “right”. The EU thought this would be the case after Brexit. But so far, no one’s laughing.

If anything, things have got worse. Take Romania, which recently cancelled its presidential election when Călin Georgescu, leader of a nationalist Right coalition, won the first round. Thierry Breton, former French European Commissioner, revealed the EU’s mindset during a damning recent TV interview. “We did it in Romania and we will obviously do it in Germany if necessary,” he said. In other words, if you can’t beat the far-Right, ban them.

I disagree with almost everything Breton has ever said, but I am grateful to him for stating his case with such revealing clarity. During his time as industry commissioner in Brussels, from 2019 until last summer, when Emmanuel Macron replaced him with a more compliant figure, he was the driving force behind a series of laws designed to keep Europe in the digital dark ages. The most extreme of which is the Digital Services Act (DSA) which compels “very large online platforms”, such as X and Meta, to check facts and filter out fake news.

But, thanks to Breton, the truth is out there. Europe’s ultimate aim isn’t to save public discourse, it is to suffocate far-Right parties by depriving them of the oxygen of information. The DSA isn’t even the last word in the EU’s anti-digital jihad. One of Ursula von der Leyen’s big ideas last year during the European election was the so-called “democracy shield” — effectively launching even more legislation to prevent outside interference in EU affairs. This notion conjures up images of laser beams and light-sabre fights. And in some respects it’s not far from the truth: a frightened bloc needs a shield to protect itself from the encroaching enemy.

Mark Zuckerberg is certainly on the attack. Last week he announced that he is abandoning fact-checking on his platforms — effectively defying the DSA. And he is betting on Donald Trump to protect him from the legal consequences. Given that J.D. Vance, the Vice President-elect, has already threatened to end US support for Nato if Europe tries to censor Elon Musk’s X, surely the same will apply to Facebook. And the EU is far too dependent on the US to be able to mount an effective campaign against any of America’s social media platforms once Trump is president. The DSA, hastily drawn up during the pandemic, not only misjudges the nature of the social media, it misjudges political power. It exposes Europe’s essential weakness before America.

This isn’t just a geopolitical battle, though. It is also a European one. The attempted clampdown reveals that there is something the bloc fears more than free speech: populism. MEPs found it hard enough to stomach Nigel Farage’s brutal outbursts when he was a member of the European Parliament. Now they have Musk breathing down their neck, endorsing candidates from the AfD, a party that sits on the far-Right in the European Parliament’s benches and which supports German withdrawal from the EU.

The German media had a collective breakdown when Musk tweeted an endorsement for the AfD, interviewed Alice Weidel, the party’s co-leader, on X, and then endorsed her in an article for Die Welt. The op-ed editor of the German daily resigned in protest. And an article in another newspaper hysterically described Musk’s intervention as unconstitutional. That journalists would advocate censorship seems shocking, until one understands the role of journalism in continental European society. It operates firmly inside a narrow centrist political consensus, which spans all the parties from the centre-left to the centre-right. Naturally, the AfD does not get much airtime in the German media.

But while marginalised by traditional media, the AfD thrives on TikTok, where it has large following. So what irks the German media, and politicians from other parties, is that the censorship cartel is no longer functioning as well as it once did. In the US and in the UK, the once mighty legacy media have already lost their power. Hillary Clinton expressed the frustration perhaps most clearly when she said that social media companies must fact check, or else “we lose total control”. But Europe still lives in a twilight zone where the traditional media still basks in the dwindling sunset of power, trying to ignore social media rising on the other horizon. Like all the modern political battles in Europe, this is about protecting vested interests.

The Romanian case demonstrates how these restrictions on freedom of speech are the first salvos in a greater war of repression. The presidential elections there were cancelled on the grounds that a Russian-infested TikTok had misinformed voters. I am sure that the Russians were active. But it is shocking to think that an election was cancelled because someone lied on TikTok.

Let’s be clear, there was no suggestion of any vote rigging. Georgescu won the first round of the election fair and square. But as with the laughable misperception in Brussels after the Brexit vote, the presumption behind the EU’s support for the nullification of the result, was that voters were too stupid to make up their own mind. The rerun is to take place on 4 May, followed by a run-off between the most successful candidate two weeks later. Georgescu is still the most likely candidate to win according to opinion polls, but the Romanian political establishment is still determined to find ways to disbar him, the most promising of which is the hope that he may have received undeclared funds.

There are similar patterns elsewhere. Marine Le Pen faces potential disqualification from the 2027 presidential elections following accusations of irregularities regarding her assistants in the European Parliament. More recently, Brussels was spooked by the victory in Austria of the Freedom Party, which managed to obtain 28.8% of the vote in the September general election. It surpassed a threshold at which point it became politically impossible for the other parties to form coalitions. Herbert Kickl, the FPÖ’s leader, is now likely to become Austria’s next chancellor. Meanwhile, in Germany, a group of 113 MPs has ganged up to ban the AfD. Their story is that the far-Right wants to destroy democracy. While the party is not yet polling high enough to frustrate yet another centrist coalition in Berlin after next month’s elections, Germany may only be a few percentage points away from an Austrian-style impasse.

Surely, though, the sensible approach to the rise of the AfD, the FPÖ and other parties of the Right is not to censor them, but to address the underlying problem that has made them so strong: persistent economic uncertainty, loss of purchasing power, and dysfunctional policies on migration. Failing that, why not co-opt parties of the far-Right as junior coalition partners as they did in Sweden and Finland? If Weidel were suddenly thrust into the job of economics minister, we would see whether she could defend her record in government. But the centrist parties in Germany and France do neither. They have erected political firewalls against the far-Right. And they are doubling down with the same old policies.

It’s an approach that will inevitably backfire. A banned Le Pen would be far more dangerous for the centrist establishment, and possibly even more extreme when she eventually gets to power. Likewise the AfD would surely be radicalised after a ban.

Until then, the EU’s blunt weapons of choice — the legal bans, political firewalls, and censorship — will inflict more self-harm than good. In the pecking order of democratic rights, freedom of speech has a relatively low priority in Europe. Like the creatures in George Orwell’s Animal Farm, I am struggling to spot the difference between the extremists of the Right, and those who are trying to fight them.

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Livro - O nuclear

 

Cartoons - The Spectator

 

The Spectator - My rules for church readings

 (personal underlines)

https://www.spectator.co.uk/article/my-rules-for-church-readings/?utm_medium=email&utm_source=CampaignMonitor_Editorial&utm_campaign=WEEK%20%2020241212%20%20AL+CID_1bfe68d637a61b36f437b0781d8b9ceb

My rules for church readings

Douglas Murray

It is that time of year when people in churches across the land have to face the difficult question of how to read scripture out loud. I count myself a bit of an expert in this, not because I have had to do it many times for some 35 years, but because I have seen everything go wrong that can go wrong.

It is like the fear that engulfs me when-ever an unaccompanied treble kicks off the first verse of ‘Once in Royal David’s City’ at the service’s start. If the treble goes off-key in that solo verse, one of the great black holes in the universe opens up – for the choir and conductor must swiftly decide whether they should begin their next unaccompanied verse in the original key, or resign themselves to whatever key the treble has arrived at.

Many years ago I was a witness to one of the worst things ever to happen at a service of Nine Lessons and Carols. Through an attack of nerves, the solo treble sang the wrong interval on both the second and third notes of his solo. The other trebles looked curious at this new state of affairs. The back rows of the choir looked panic-stricken. The eyes of the choirmaster flared like those of a driver who has just seen a freight lorry pull out in front of him.

Everyone tried to think on their feet. But they were different feet. During those long seconds no consensus could be arrived at. And so it came to pass that when the choir started the second verse, they did so on an almost precise 50-50 split. Trying to assert some order back into the universe, the back rows largely came in on the old key. The other half – mainly the trebles, in a show of solidarity with their stricken colleague – came in on the new key.

I doubt that a more vile noise has ever been emitted in the house of the Lord. The choirmaster’s arms looked as though he was wading through tapioca. At the far end of the church, the organist started blasting out the pedal of the original key in an effort to remind the choir of how far they had roamed. This only made the effect worse. It was as though in the middle of a car crash someone had started sounding a foghorn to lighten things up a bit. I have never seen a dean give a more evil look.

But I digress. Similar challenges affect the readers of the lessons. There are two main challenges. First is the matter of volume. For this you must consult the church’s sound system in advance. Preparation is all. Given that most church sound systems are to acoustic technology what fax machines are to a modern office, this is vital. Some (largely male) readers tend to over-project and do a Donald Sinden – speaking to the back of the church as though there is no sound system. This is not good. The church is not the Globe Theatre.

At the other extreme is the mousier type of reader who tends to read the lesson as though hoping that nobody will notice them. The effect this time is that the congregation ends up feeling like it is listening to someone reading to themselves in private.

The other main challenge is speed. Most readers are not practised performers, and while even the most practised performer can be overcome by nerves and start gabbling, the unpractised reader is the one most likely to start off like a greyhound on his first race.

Even the smallest parish churches have an echo larger than whatever room the reader has practised it on before their encouraging spouse. Speed of delivery is all. I reckon that the correct tempo is at a minus 0.5 per cent speed of normal speech.

But what is normal speech when it comes to scripture? Here lies another fraught matter. I have always found it charming when a choirboy reading the first lesson about the fall of man arrives at the moment where God has his bit of dialogue. Some choirboys read it through as though it is all the same thing. Others make what is to me an always touching attempt to deliver, in an unbroken voice, an approximation of the basso profundo that they imagine the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day would most likely speak in.

Such efforts are less charming in adults. In general people should avoid doing ‘voices’. It is especially important not to do the Virgin Mary’s talk with the Archangel Gabriel in a ‘character’ voice. Allow the congregation to imagine the tone of wonder in the Virgin’s voice, but in no way should you attempt to approximate it. At our Spectator carol service at St Bride’s Fleet Street the other day, our very own Mary (Wakefield) and Lara Prendergast gave perfect demonstrations of how it should be done. Both not only looked, but sounded, beatific. And that is because they both know how to read naturally. The story is wondrous enough in itself. All it requires is for it to be related in a simple, humble and clear tone.

That evening brought back to me a person most missed again this year, who used to read scripture in a way that was utterly unique and also exemplary.

Some ten years ago or so at The Spectator service it was our late colleague Jeremy Clarke’s turn to read the passage about the Annunciation. The rendition stays with me and moves me still. For Jeremy knew that the key to reading scripture out loud is simply to say it in the way you would say anything else – in your own, perhaps God-given, voice.

Jeremy read the Gospel of Luke as though he had never heard the story before. Every line, every pause and every look up at the congregation as he relayed the story of Mary and Joseph was suffused with a sense of utter wonder. The general tone was: ‘Cor, have you heard this stuff? It’s bloody amazing.’

We got pretty pissed at the pub afterwards, and that is another story. But as so often Jeremy hit the right note. This stuff is amazing and we shouldn’t forget it.

Livro - Crítica XXI (nº2)

 

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Jantar VetVals

Em 07.01.2024, no Fraga, jantar dos VetVals. Manuel Piedade, Luis Costa, José Azevedo, João, Alfredo, Filipe Melo, João Miguel Deus, Luis Miranda, Mário Guerra, Carlos Amorim, António Pires

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The Spectator - ‘The public sector is the illness’: Javier Milei on his first year in office

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https://www.spectator.co.uk/article/the-public-sector-is-the-illness-javier-milei-on-his-first-year-in-office/?utm_medium=email&utm_source=CampaignMonitor_Editorial&utm_campaign=WEEK%20%2020241212%20%20AL+CID_1bfe68d637a61b36f437b0781d8b9ceb

‘The public sector is the illness’: Javier Milei on his first year in office

Kate Andrews

‘I never wind down,’ says Argentina’s President Javier Milei when we meet in his Presidential Office at the Casa Rosada. ‘I work all day, practically… I get up at 6 a.m., I take a shower and at 7 a.m. I am already at my desk working. And I work all the way until 11 p.m. I enjoy my job. I enjoy cutting public spending. I love the chainsaw.’

It was a photo of Milei with a chainsaw – who was then the insurgent candidate – that propelled him to international fame last year. He waved it on the campaign trail as a symbol of what he would do to government regulations and bureaucracy if elected to the presidency. He had previously gone viral in a video showing him shouting ‘Afuera!’ (‘Out!’) while ripping names of government departments off a whiteboard.

These stunts drew attention to his election promise: to wage war on socialism and bring free markets to Argentina. He started at 16 per cent in the polls, but his pledges to curb inflation, abolish price controls, shrink the state and get the country back on a strong fiscal footing won over the majority of Argentinians, who were ready for change. He won the attention of leaders across the world, too.

Milei is proud of his global reputation as a state slayer. For many years as an economist, commentator and self-described ‘anarcho-capitalist’, he had been the country’s biggest critic of socialism. In 2021 he founded his libertarian coalition, La Libertad Avanza (Freedom Advances). This month marks one year since Milei took office, elected with a mandate to overhaul 100 years of socialist rule – and he’s eager to trumpet the results.

‘Let me tell you a fun story. I was in a bilateral meeting with Indian Prime Minister [Narendra] Modi,’ he tells me through his official interpreter. In the meeting at the G20 in Brazil last month, Milei sang the praises of his deregulation minister Federico Sturzenegger, who was also in attendance. Milei told Modi that the minister had cut four regulations in Argentina that very day. ‘Minister Sturzenegger didn’t correct me, because if I had known the actual figure, I would probably have started to celebrate on top of the table. Because he hadn’t removed four regulations, but 44 of them.’

A proud, grateful look spreads across the President’s face. ‘I can assure you that if he had corrected me on the spot, I would have got up and given him a big hug, because that kind of level of joy is too much for me. Removing 44 regulations within a single day is sheer bliss.’

Slashing bureaucracy is his idea of a good time. ‘I derive pleasure from removing the state,’ he says. ‘I feel, that way, we become more free, that I am giving freedom back to the people.’

You don’t hear other world leaders, even right-wing ones, speak about government institutions as Milei does. At least not in public. But not every country has experienced economic turmoil like Argentina. At the turn of the 20th century, it was one of the richest countries in the world. Going into the 21st century, socialist policies had transformed it into a poor one.

‘One thing about me is brutal honesty and my remarks on air are consistent with my remarks off air,’ he says. ‘But then again, I’m an outsider. I see this as a job, you see.’

That job seemed impossible when he entered office. Nonstop money-printing meant Argentina was experiencing another round of high inflation: it had a monthly inflation rate of more than 25 per cent. By October, that had slowed to 2.7 per cent.

The journey has not been pain-free. The economy shrank by 3.9 per cent in the first half of the year – a recession Milei warned was inevitable if Argentina was going to get inflation under control. Still, after a mid-year dip in approval ratings, the President has recently bounced back in the polls, buoyed by indicators that the country has turned a corner. The local stock market has surged by 130 per cent, as investors grow increasingly confident about Argentina’s economic prospects. JPMorgan has said that the economy has been growing at an annualised rate of 8.5 per cent.

‘People used to say that if we implemented the very harsh stabilisation programme, there would be huge costs in terms of economic activity and employment and salaries,’ Milei explains. ‘We’re going to close the year with GDP higher than what we had when we first took office. At the same time, there hasn’t been a substantial loss of jobs despite the strong cuts we introduced in the public sector.’

The Casa Rosada – the ‘Pink House’ – is noticeably quiet. A few officials scurry between rooms. Several school tours walk through the building. Otherwise, the hallways are empty. ‘We [are dismissing] about 50,000 civil servants; we terminated about 200,000 contracts,’ he says.

‘In the last 123 years Argentina had a fiscal deficit… during the ten years it supposedly had a surplus, it was because it defaulted on its debts, so Argentina actually never had a surplus.’ Now a surplus has been achieved – a staggering turnaround from a $1.3 billion deficit in October last year to $500 million in the black one year later.

Milei’s efforts to slash the state and balance the books contrasts with what has been happening across Europe since the pandemic. While right-wing parties have been growing in popularity, this shift has not been driven by any libertarian movement. Instead, the demand is for security: the state needs to be bigger and more involved than ever, to keep its citizens safe.

Meanwhile a consensus has developed in Britain that more investment is needed to fix public services, as evidenced by Labour’s first Budget. I ask Milei how optimistic the United Kingdom – and other countries pursuing this agenda – should be that another cash injection will make the state work as it should. ‘Well, we are proof-positive that that doesn’t work,’ he says. ‘We have 123 years of history that that doesn’t work, that the state is not the solution, that the state is the problem.’

He quickly caveats his answer: ‘All I can do is share the Argentine experience and talk about how problems are fixed through the libertarian lens. But, of course, countries are sovereign, so I wouldn’t venture to give opinions on the policies of other states. That’s up to them and to the people who live in them, so there is no reason why I should get involved. But let me tell you, in Argentina those ideas failed.’

His warning is stark: ‘The public sector is the illness. If a body has something that is harming it – a virus, a germ, a bug, a parasite – you extract the parasite, you don’t feed [it]. If you feed the parasite you are going to end up poorly off… in our experience it’s clear, we have got the state out of the way, things are working better.’

In speeches and interviews, Milei effortlessly pulls out quotations and themes from great free-market works, such as Friedrich von Hayek’s The Fatal Conceit or Ludwig von Mises’s Socialism. He talks about the ideas and philosophers that shaped his libertarian thinking. But what attracted him to those ideas in the first place?

‘I am a true libertarian,’ he says. ‘I see the state, government, as an oppressive machine which destroys rights, which destroys liberty. I see taxes as theft, I see the state as an organised criminal gang.

‘[Conventional politicians] like to wield power. All they care about is power and the next election, and after the next election, the next thing they worry about is the next election. So perhaps people might be the 25th priority.’ Milei has a metric in mind when he’s judging how much freedom he’s returning to Argentinians. ‘The best way to see if I’ve given people the power back or not is to see whether I’ve shrunk the state… and I have shrunk the size of the state by one third.’

This is a leader who was originally described by outlets such as the BBC as ‘far-right’. Yet the policy announcements in Milei’s first year point to a radical libertarian experiment taking place. ‘I [asked] for the vote in order to give power back to the people,’ says Milei. ‘I believe in freedom. I believe in individuals.’

His daily drive to dismantle the state seems supported by his confidence that the individual knows best – but even without that belief, he says, he could never be a central planner. ‘The task of planning is literally impossible because it involves having perfect knowledge about the preferences of every individual, present and future… you would need to be God and [if] there’s one thing that’s clear to me it’s that politicians are not God.’

Milei’s opponents dismiss him as an eccentric. Yet the man who is about to become, once again, the most powerful leader in the world is interested in his ideas and looking to replicate some of them. Milei was the first world leader to meet President-elect Donald Trump after the election – an experience at Mar-a-Lago which he describes as ‘fabulous’. How did the meeting come about? ‘That was actually raised in coordination with my foreign minister,’ he says. ‘All of the people who are going to be government officials for Trump knew me or knew about me, and I really get on very well with the modern-day Edison, the modern-day Michelangelo, the Leonardo da Vinci of the modern age, who is Elon Musk.’

Milei’s Department for Deregulation and State Transformation is being used as inspiration for Trump’s new Department of Government Efficiency (Doge), which Musk and the entrepreneur-turned-politician Vivek Ramaswamy are running in an attempt to cut $2 trillion from federal spending.

It seems both Trump and Musk think Doge can learn from Argentina. ‘They [gave] me a very prominent role at the meeting because I had a chance to speak,’ Milei says. ‘But also [Trump] praised my address and the things we are doing in Argentina: Making Argentina Great Again!’

There is an obvious difference between the Trumpian worldview and Milei’s, however. The week I arrive in Buenos Aires, Milei has announced he’s slashing tariffs, raising the tax-free limit on imported packages from $1,000 to $3,000. Trump, meanwhile, says he’s planning to slap tariffs on his friends and foes. Has Milei had the opportunity to tell Trump what a bad idea tariffs are?

‘If you will allow me,’ he replies, ‘that’s part of the distortion perpetrated by the press.’ The problem goes back to the 2008 financial crash and subprime mortgage crisis, he says, when China was playing fast and loose with its exchange rates and trade rules. Its behaviour of ‘[exporting] its own imbalances to the rest of the world’ was overdue for confrontation. ‘Trump asked China to revise its monetary policy to no longer keep a fixed exchange rate since it’s a huge, important country that plays by international trade rules. China decided not to modify its exchange policy. Of course it’s entitled to do that as a sovereign country, and Trump’s response… was to correct the problem via tariffs.’

I ask Milei if Trump is a conundrum for libertarians. On the one hand, he offers domestic tax cuts and a commitment to free speech. On the other, he proposes tariffs and economic protectionism. Does Milei think the positive case outweighs the negative case, or does he think Trump – who says that ‘tariffs’ is his favourite word apart from ‘love’ and ‘religion’ – is bluffing to secure trade deals?

‘First of all, what I do commend and welcome about Trump is that he understands who the enemy is. He understands that woke-ism is the enemy, he understands that the enemy is socialism, that the enemy is the state… on the second thing, I believe all the accusations levelled against him about the tariffs vis-a-vis China are wrong, they’re incorrect, so I don’t really take that point. I think one should try to understand how the system works.’

Milei’s free-market radicalism is tempered, then, by his realism when it comes to politics and the way the world operates. He calls himself an anarcho-capitalist in ‘philosophical terms’, but in ‘real life’ he says he hovers ‘between a classical liberal or libertarian and a minarchist’. He is critical of the purists, the ‘liberal libertarians who strongly criticise me for not having lifted the currency controls on day one’ – a major move towards liberalisation that still has not happened. ‘If I had done that on the very first day, it would have caused hyperinflation and by January I would have been thrown out.’

Milei is also a fan of Boris Johnson, and the two met in Buenos Aires in October. ‘We had a wonderful conversation,’ he says. ‘[Johnson] brought me his book, and we talked about economics and we discussed the philosophical approach. Naturally, he is closer to being a more classical liberal… I really enjoy having the opportunity to talk to other leaders and I try to internalise the restrictions they face.’

Johnson is not the only former prime minister to have made an impression on Milei. He describes David Cameron as a ‘brilliant individual’ – and he’s spoken to both Johnson and Cameron about his hopes of meeting Mick Jagger when he comes to the UK. ‘I would also like to meet Keith Richards. I have the full collection not only of the Rolling Stones but also of the Beatles.’ Milei often speaks about his love for the Rolling Stones, but his Anglophilia runs much deeper than that.

‘One thing that also brought me very close to British culture was Lord Byron, especially when I read “Don Juan”. I thought it was amazing. In fact, when I bought the book, I had it in English and in Spanish, and when I read it in English I really enjoyed it much better than in Spanish.

‘Of course, Shakespeare also brought me close to British culture. There are many things I find very appealing about the UK, apart from the fact that you invented football but of course we are the best ones.’ Fighting words, I say. We won’t fight about it, he tells me reassuringly, ‘but we are better!’.

Given his enthusiasm for Britain, and presumably his classical liberal belief in the right to self-determination, I wonder how Milei defends Argentina’s position on the Falkland Islands – or what the Argentinians call Islas Malvinas. In a referendum in 2013, 99 per cent of Falklands residents voted to remain British. ‘We have a sovereignty claim,’ he says. ‘We believe that our foundations, in support of the claim, that the Malvinas are Argentine, so we will seek through diplomatic channels to recover them.

‘The people of Argentina elected me as President. In that context I recognise the Malvinas Islands as Argentine, and I will make every diplomatic effort to recover them and that’s part of my policy… you may like my proposals or not, but you won’t say that I’m not consistent.’

On trade, Milei is certainly consistent: the more, the better. He wants to ramp up relations with Beijing, for instance, just as Trump’s America seems to be decoupling from China. He had a sideline meeting with President Xi Jinping at the G20 to discuss further opportunities. How does a libertarian president deal with an authoritarian communist world leader?

‘What is my job today? President of Argentina. And I need to take care of defending the interests of the people of Argentina and improving the quality of life of the Argentine people,’ he says. ‘China is a natural partner for us. And let me tell you something, I was pleasantly surprised by the way that China works with other countries, in that it’s a very friendly partner… it is a trading partner that does not interfere, that causes no nuisance.’

It’s a glowing description of the world’s second-largest economy. ‘Honestly,’ he says, ‘I am very much surprised by the respectful way they have treated us.’ He then remembers the largest economy, and smiles. ‘And at the same time, I am really filled with joy by the way the Republican party in the United States treats us.’ There might come a point, soon, when he has to choose between the two.

The Spectator - Following Napoleon: my exile in St Helena

 (personal underlines)

https://www.spectator.co.uk/article/following-napoleon-my-exile-in-st-helena/

Following Napoleon: my exile in St Helena

Douglas Murray00:00

iStock

Douglas Murray has narrated this article for you to listen to.

In an attempt to escape from the world, I have come with friends to St Helena. It is quite a good place for the exercise. Until a few years ago the only way to get to the island was a five-day boat voyage from Cape Town. Shortly before Covid, an airport for this British overseas territory was finally completed at UK taxpayer expense. To protect some local insects the runway was put at a slightly wrong angle, making it difficult – sometimes impossible – to land. The weekly flight from Johannesburg therefore refuels in Namibia in case landing is impossible and the plane has to about-turn.

Jamestown is not the busiest metropolis, but for the island’s population of around 4,000 people this harbour town is the hub. The Consulate Hotel on the main street running down to the sea is run by the lovely Hazel and is a warren of rooms and memorabilia relating to the island. A lifesize statue of Napoleon Bonaparte stands on the balcony overlooking the street. It takes a few days to get used to him being over your shoulder as you take a morning coffee or the first drink of the day.

Exploring the hotel, I found a grand piano and put my fingers to work. While playable, it was slightly out of tune. I enquired whether this could be fixed and it was explained that the island’s piano tuner is in jail.

Down by the harbour that evening, I got chatting to a local friend who – like all the other islanders – attended the only school, which is named after Prince Andrew. I asked her whether it would be possible to spring the piano tuner from the local chokey even for a few hours. She told me that St Helena’s prison is at capacity. Even on holiday this is the sort of thing that interests me. I learned that there is one murderer on the island, happily now free, but that most of the inmates were there for the sort of sex offences that regrettably happen in small, remote communities where people are related.

As we were having this conversation, I became aware of a local drunk looking at us. I occasionally darted a look to check he wasn’t overhearing. He was, and sloped towards our table. ‘I ain’t no paedophile,’ he said. ‘I don’t believe I said you were,’ I replied. ‘I ain’t sold no children,’ he went on. ‘You was looking at me whole time you have that talk.’ Slipping into the fascinating local patois, my friend managed to talk him down. We avoided further crowding the prison and parted with a reassurance from me that I agreed he had never sold his daughters.

Of course the most famous prisoner to have been on this island was Napoleon. One night we had a glorious dinner at his island abode – Longwood House – which has been magnificently restored. The view from Napoleon’s quarters is one of the best on the island, which is saying something. It is like a mini world out there, with vast mountain crops, lush greenery and of course thousands of miles of empty ocean.

People are no longer brought up to believe in the Great Man view of history, but you cannot doubt it here. There is a startling aura about the place. The idea that this man required battalions of British troops to be stationed on the island, forts on every hilltop and a fleet of British ships surrounding it, just to keep him confined is testament to the fact that whatever else he got wrong, he was a great man. One of my friends caught me alone in Napoleon’s coffee parlour, staring out across the South Atlantic. ‘What are you thinking about?’ he asked.

‘Europe. Moscow,’ I told him.

I have been unfair to the local inhabitants. Most of the ‘Saints’ (as they are known) are superlatively lovely people. During the Sunday morning service, the ‘sign of the peace’ bit involved meeting the whole congregation. They are also a genuinely diverse people with a DNA pool which is as mixed as any on Earth. And they are proud of their British status, without any of the concomitant guilts forced on us at home. During the long and ruminous construction of the airport, the bones of several hundred former slaves were uncovered. They turned out to be the bones of slaves freed by the British from Portuguese ships. St Helena was a crucial port for the West Africa Squadron, tasked with stamping out the slave trade across the High Seas. One local piece of development is the rebuilding of Toby’s cottage. This is the former residence of a slave who became friends with Napoleon and to whom Napoleon gave a sum of money to be free.

Today, neither credit cards nor debit cards work on the island, phones barely do, and the wifi is patchy. To get money you have to go to the only branch of the island’s bank, show plenty of ID and sign many forms. With my £50 (plus commission) I can stand drinks for several nights. This is the sort of solitude I seek. I catch up on a pile of books, swim in the harbour and say hello to people I haven’t seen for hours.

The most striking thing about the island is not just its lushness but its extraordinary biodiversity. There are about five different landscapes across the island, from ones that look like the moon to others that look like England and others that look like nowhere else on Earth.

Down by the ocean is a memorial to the dead of the island from the two world wars and also a memorial to the crew of RFA Darkdale, which was torpedoed at anchor off St Helena in the early hours of 22 October 1941. The rollcall of the dead includes a 30-year-old Neil McMillan from Stornoway and 27-year-old John Macleod, 2nd Radio officer, from the Hebridean village my father grew up in. Like many a previous inhabitant of the island, I walk away reflecting that even when you come to the uttermost parts of the Earth, home follows you.

Reflexão - Tiago Marcos

 

(sublinhados meus)

https://observador.pt/opiniao/email-aberto-a-marcelo/?utm_source=observador_alerts&utm_medium=alerts_bell_site&utm_campaign=immediate&utm_content=article

Email Aberto a Marcelo

Um bocadinho menos de graxa a Paddy Cosgrove e mais pulso no que se passa no dia a dia dos Portugueses era o mínimo que poderia ter feito.

Tiago Marcos 

12 jan. 2025, 00:14

Escrevo-lhe hoje, Presidente Marcelo, com o intuito de lhe dar uma pequena perspectiva do seu legado como Presidente da República Portuguesa. Visto ser um email, tentarei ser breve. Senti o impulso de o escrever depois de um passeio que dei pela Baixa de Lisboa na tarde da véspera de Natal. Passava pela Rua Garrett, quando notei um presépio. Fechado a grade, ladeado de cadeados, sem iluminação. Na véspera de Natal um país de matriz Cristã, nem consegue ter um presépio iluminado numa zona proeminente. Continuando a descida, vejo que a rua Augusta foi convertida numa feira ambulante onde nada vendido tem qualquer conexão com Portugal. Que turismo teremos, quando Lisboa se tornar exatamente o mesmo que qualquer outra cidade Europeia? O turismo advém da particularidade de um local, não da sua multiculturalidade.

Passei na minha adolescência tempos felizes entre a Baixa de Lisboa e Almada. Paragem rápida pela Igreja de S. Nicolau (a Igreja mais bonita de Lisboa), fumava um pau de canela (tinha 16 anos) entre amigos e conversas embaraçosas de adolescente. Apanhava depois o barco para Cacilhas. Sem medos. Quanto tiver filhas e filhos quero que tenham a oportunidade de desfrutar da Lisboa, Almada e Caparica em que cresci. Por muito que goste de Inverness, prefiro que cresçam com sol e caldo verde do que com haggis e ventos do mar do Norte. Que aproveitem as tardes para passear por Lisboa, em segurança, sem medo de gangues, drogas e violência. Possam apanhar o cacilheiro em paz e sossego, e entrar numa Almada viva e entusiasmante. Não serem números nalguma folha de cálculo do Governo, prontas a ser exportadas para o mundo. Custa ver as ruas de Almada, a minha primeira morada, maltratadas e ao abandono. Ver a Igreja onde fui baptizado cada vez mais vazia. E continuamos a falar de acolher, enquanto tudo degenera a olhos vistos.  Quando se acabarem os garibaldis do Condestável, e as bicas do café Páscoa, o que sobra?

Nos últimos anos esteve mais preocupado em promover reparações a países que já são independentes há meio século. Deveríamos também investigar o trajecto do ouro e a prata que os cartagineses exploraram na península Ibérica? Fazemos contas com o Norte de África? Escolher o ponto de partida das reparações revela o mesmo  carácter arbitrário que parece ser aplicado aos que querem o aborto como bandeira do progresso. Como se não bastassem as recentes crises  económicas, a pandemia e instabilidade laboral, quer também agora impor a mim e aos meus a responsabilidade sobre eventos acontecidos quando ainda não tínhamos sido concebidos? Sob a sua alçada, tentaram pela calada retirar os direitos de cidadãos Portugueses a residir no estrangeiro de aceder ao serviço nacional de saúde. Nos consulados Portugueses (Reino Unido), o Confucionismo e a total ausência de simpatia para com os Portugueses demonstram por quem os seus sinos dobram. Vi, preocupado, o rol de más decisões que fez, como a estranha reabilitação de António Costa. Então António Costa não serve para Portugal, mas serve para a Europa, com o seu inglês macarrónico e uma condecoração por si atribuída? Condecora quem não deve, não quer saber dos que dia a dia vão sobrevivendo, dos que se esfolaram a trabalhar, entre cursos superiores e quatro empregos part-time, para depois serem humilhados por uma classe política que os não quer cá.

Os conflitos culturais que são cada vez mais visíveis no Reino Unido, e nos quais Keir Starmer, primeiro- ministro Britânico, continua a não estar particularmente interessado (embora já fossem descortinados há uma década por Douglas Murray, mas ninguém quis ouvir) estão finalmente a ser expostos. Também em Portugal a diário temos agora situações tão bicudas que nem a palavra sensações consegue mascarar a natureza da insegurança vivida. Não é normal indivíduos acenderem fogueiras ao pé do Cais do Sodré no meio de um dia de calor. Não é normal que na estação de serviço do Fundão a casa de banho das mulheres seja tomada por homens de idade militar e que tenha que ser eu e a minha mãe a desbloquear o caminho para que as senhoras que estavam à espera a possam utilizar. Não é normal que na Avenida da Igreja, senhoras de idade confidenciem que já quase não vão à Missa, pois têm medo de sair à rua. E continua a falar de multiculturalismo, de inclusividade. Portugal pode ter muitos unicórnios, mas o mundo não é um. Um bocadinho menos de graxa a Paddy Cosgrove e mais pulso no que se passa no dia a dia dos Portugueses era o mínimo que poderia ter feito.

No seu mais recente discurso voltou com as mesmas platitudes, encheu a boca de abrilismos, do discurso de todos, sem indicar nada de concreto. A verdadeira liberdade vem da escolha. A multiculturalidade, pluralismo e diplomacia são uma arte de saber o que aceitar e o que não aceitar. Não escolher nada e querer tudo é apenas uma fogueira de vaidades, vanidades e banalidades. A coesão e alta confiança que produz sociedades harmoniosas exige a presença de escrutínio nas políticas de acolhimento e imigracão. E isto inclui operações policiais, quando um bairro se torna perigoso para os residentes. Um dos maiores extremismos que temos é o da cobardia. Políticos como o senhor tinham a responsabilidade de proteger as operações policiais que nos mantêm seguros, e não lançar farpas mal disfarçadas em discursos redundantes.

Deveria dar-lhe pausa para reflectir que cientistas têm agora que se desdobrar e escrever sobre a situação social e política Portuguesa. Mas a qualidade de vida ficou tão visivelmente deteriorada, a sua falta de carinho pelos Portugueses que não querem ter de abandonar o país, e a total ausência de pulso pela insegurança e falta de serviços em todo o país (para quando a linha da Beira Alta?) assim o requer. Não tenho amigos na política, não tenho curso em ciência política, não faço parte de nenhum grupo de activismo; e, no entanto, parece que percebo a situação atual bastante melhor que a maioria dos deputados da Assembleia da República, amedrontados pelo açaime da cobardia. Não se torne Portugal um pleonasmo de Emigração. Não vou abandonar o país. Farei o que puder, com as parcas capacidades que tenho, para contribuir para o crescimento de Portugal, mesmo que as políticas dos sucessivos governos  não me queiram  cá. Usarei do verdadeiro internacionalismo, não para sair do país, mas para cumprir o que outros apenas apregoam.

Todas estas suas atitudes têm impacto no próprio conceito da Defesa Nacional. Quem, exatamente, vai defender a zona económica em que Portugal, a par e passo com outras capitais europeias, se tornou? Se não há uma matriz cultural a respeitar, de onde vem o dever para com o país? Mas nada disto lhe interessa. Quer apenas apregoar um multiculturalismo oco, vazio, sem alma. Volte a ler e comentar livros, o seu nicho. Para isso tem algum talento. Recomendo o conto “Sete Andares” de Dino Buzzati, um curto esboço que pode inspirar alguma reflexão sobre o que se passa na Europa. Percorra este verão os caminhos de Santiago e pense no que fez em relação aos Portugueses e ao país. E, por favor, não apague este email.

The spectator - Don’t ambush parents with activism

 (personal underlines)

https://www.spectator.co.uk/article/dont-ambush-parents-with-activism/?utm_medium=email&utm_source=CampaignMonitor_Editorial&utm_campaign=WEEK%20%2020241212%20%20AL+CID_1bfe68d637a61b36f437b0781d8b9ceb

Don’t ambush parents with activism

Lara Prendergast

As we sat down at the Royal Opera House to watch one of the Royal Ballet’s soloists perform Letter to Tchaikovsky, an announcement began. ‘Tchaikovsky is understood to have been a gay man, who was forced by the conventions of society to marry a woman,’ explained an earnest female voice from off-stage. ‘The music, words and dance describe the pain and guilt he experienced as a closeted queer person… but like many others before and since, the fact that he was queer meant that he had to stay secret about who he really was… It is still illegal to be gay or queer in 69 countries, and queer people continue to face discrimination or violence all over the world, including here in Britain.’

The audience didn’t seem hugely concerned by this news. They were, however, very bothered by who would get to sit on the limited number of beanbags at the front of the auditorium. The performance was part of a family event for small children, and a few parents did look a little perplexed as to why the announcement was necessary. At least we were spared the details of Tchaikovsky’s incestuous relationship with his own nephew, a concept possibly too advanced for even the most enlightened London tot.

Afterwards, I wrote to the Royal Opera House to find out if there had been a ‘content warning’ that I might have missed. The ROH is not typically shy about these: ticket holders for Donizetti’s Lucia di Lammermoor were duly warned about the opera’s graphic depictions of sex and violence.

The reply I received directed me to the QR codes, which – had I spotted and chosen to use them – would have alerted me to the show’s message that ‘Everyone should be free to live openly wherever they are in the world’. ‘We will ensure going forwards that there is a clearer summary of the content themes in each piece, so parents and children can be better informed to choose whether particular events are right for them,’ I was told.

Navigating modern parenthood is tricky, especially when trying not to come across as a reactionary pearl-clutcher. Yes, yes, of course it is wrong that it is still illegal to be gay in so many countries. I imagine every adult member of the audience felt the same. We’re the sort of smug, self-consciously liberal types who choose the Royal Opera House over church on a Sunday morning. But had I known my four-year-old daughter was about to be introduced to queer persecution, I might have suggested we head to the puppet-making stand instead.

Was I being homophobic? I don’t think so. It’s not so much the subject matter that unsettled me as the fact that a political point was being shoehorned into a performance aimed at infants. At some point, my daughter will inevitably learn about the grim realities of the world: how Iran executes gay teenagers, say, or how in Saudi Arabia, gay men face lashings and imprisonment. When she does, I imagine she’ll want to do something about it, even if the obvious truth is she can’t.

It’s that sense of agency that seems important to try to preserve for children. We should avoid burdening them with serious problems they feel powerless to fix. Yet, as we bombard them from increasingly young ages with the world’s ills, from racism and slavery to genocide and human rights abuses, is it any wonder that childhood anxiety is soaring? Greta Thunberg’s rallying cry for children to solve climate change is, for all its sincerity, as much a fairy tale as anything you might find by Hans Christian Andersen. In trying to raise activist warriors, we’ve produced anxious worriers.

So I have become that neurotic mother, firing off letters about content warnings, desperately trying to shield my child from the harshness of the world. I don’t agree with content warnings in general, so why am I writing to the ROH asking about theirs? Get a grip, Lara. Don’t be that person.

But then a week later, at a friend’s house, my daughter picks a book from the Little People, Big Dreams series for me to read to her. It is about Princess Diana – a story that will, I suppose, teach her that not all princesses live happily ever after. We begin to read. ‘Whenever she felt alone, [Diana] sought relief by eating all the cakes she could find in the royal kitchen. But that sweet feeling of comfort didn’t last long. Once it was gone, she would try to get rid of all the food she had eaten by making herself sick… Even though her life seemed to be taken from the pages of a fairy tale, she soon realised that the prince’s heart belonged to someone else. Over time that sadness grew into an eating disorder called b…u…l…i…’

I slam the book shut. I can’t do it. I don’t want my daughter to know that word, not yet, not for as long as I can possibly prevent her from learning it. I feel angry at the publishers for thinking an eating disorder is an appropriate detail to include in a book aimed at young girls. Could they not have brushed over it? I note the book avoids talking about Diana’s death but three pages are devoted to her eating disorder. I suggest we choose something else instead. Roald Dahl? Let’s find Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, the unedited version, with fat Augustus Gloop, the little brute.

I immediately revise my position on content warnings, suddenly feeling hardline on the matter. The Princess Diana book should have had a very clear content warning on the front cover and yes, maybe Letter to Tchaikovsky should have had one too. I don’t want to feel ambushed by activism.

When I later check the ROH website, I see that the next Family Sunday performance of Letter to Tchaikovsky now comes with a more detailed description. ‘Tchaikovsky composed some of the world’s most loved fairytale ballets. In his life, however, he found it challenging to find his “happy ever after” because of his love for another man.’ I may have triggered a content warning, and I am not sure how I feel about it. All I can conclude is that I do not feel cut out for the confusing dance that is modern parenthood – but I suspect I am not the only one.

The Spectator -Marc Guehi has exposed the flaw in football’s Rainbow Laces campaign

 (personal underlines)

https://www.spectator.co.uk/article/marc-guehi-has-exposed-the-flaw-in-footballs-rainbow-laces-campaign/?utm_medium=email&utm_source=CampaignMonitor_Editorial&utm_campaign=BOCH%20%2020241207%20%20House%20Ads%20%20HT+CID_2a93ac931c8be2524fc23a23bf039e6b

Marc Guehi has exposed the flaw in football’s Rainbow Laces campaign

4 December 2024, 1:18pm

Marc Guehi of Crystal Palace wrote 'Jesus loves you' on his rainbow armband (Getty images)

Is the Football Association’s Rainbow Laces campaign about inclusivity or not? The FA doesn’t seem to be able to make up its mind.

When Crystal Palace captain Marc Guehi wrote ‘I love Jesus’ on his rainbow-coloured armband during his side’s draw against Newcastle United on Saturday, he was ‘reminded’ by the FA that religious messaging on kit is banned. Last night, Guehi called the FA’s bluff by writing another message – ‘Jesus loves you’ – on his armband in Crystal Palace’s game against Ipswich.

His messages seem to be a sensible way of taking part in a campaign showing support for inclusion in sport, while expressing his own Christian faith. If the point of this initiative is about making people feel included, is there a more welcoming message than telling people that Jesus loves them? You might think that Jesus isn’t real, but even if you do there’s nothing offensive about Guehi’s scrawled words.

Perhaps Guehi would have been better off adopting the approach of the Ipswich captain Sam Morsy, a Muslim who refused to wear the rainbow armband altogether. The FA is understood to deem that a matter for Morsy and his club and does not view his decision as a breach of its regulations. But it isn’t clear if that same soft approach will apply to Guehi, who could face a ban if he is deemed to have broken the rules.

By the letter of the law, Guehi could well find himself in trouble: Rule A4 of the FA’s kit and advertising regulations prohibit the ‘appearance on, or incorporation in, any item of clothing, football boots or other equipment of any religious message’. 

Guehi’s message is undoubtedly religious. But if the Palace captain is breaking the rules, is the FA also guilty of double standards? The rules also state that: ‘Players must not reveal undergarments that show political…slogans, statements or images’. The Rainbow Laces campaign is backed by Stonewall, an organisation that has led the charge on transgender rights. Is that campaign not a political one? Stonewall’s approach has certainly alienated many lesbian and gay people – as well as plenty of women – who do not share its views on gender issues. Back in 2021, a number of organisations even abandoned Stonewall’s Diversity Champions programme following an argument about trans rights. The FA, though, has stuck with Stonewall. This unseemly row might lead them to reflect on whether that is a partnership that should continue – and whether it might be sensible to make this year’s Rainbow Laces campaign the last.