The Spectator - I’m ready to defend my Tesla from the mob

 (personal underlines)

https://www.spectator.co.uk/article/im-ready-to-defend-my-tesla-from-the-mob/?utm_medium=email&utm_source=CampaignMonitor_Editorial&utm_campaign=WEEK%20%2020250327%20%20AL+CID_4f53d7fd2537bd9c7da8ecbe41e821c0

I’m ready to defend my Tesla from the mob

Jonathan Miller

In France, burning cars is practically a national sport. Almost 1,000 were set on fire on New Year’s Eve, the annual festival of vehicle incineration. Brand specificity has not traditionally concerned the anarchists, but as Elon Musk has emerged as Donald Trump’s favourite apprentice, Teslas have become the target for left-wing mobs. Tesla owners like me are nervous. 

The Tesla centre in Toulouse, where I picked up my own Model Y car in more innocent days, was stormed this month by the previously unheard-of Information Anti- Autoritaire Toulouse et Alentours. A dozen cars, worth a total of €700,000, were destroyed. ‘Today, there is an acceleration of the fascist, patriarchal, ecocidal and colonialist project,’ the group announced online. ‘While the elites throw Nazi salutes, we decided to salute a Tesla dealer in our own way on the night of 2 March 2025, in Plaisance-du-Touch [a suburb of Toulouse]. We set fire to vehicles inside the compound using two petrol cans.’

There have been similar attacks across the western world: the US, Canada, Germany, the Netherlands and Northern Ireland. In New York last week, the studio audience at The Daily Show vigorously applauded as host Jordan Klepper played a montage of news reports of vandalised and destroyed Teslas. An ABC News clip showed Teslas and Cybertrucks burning, a CBS News report showed attackers using Molotov cocktails, while an ABC Good Morning America report showed suspects shooting Teslas with guns and burning them in car parks.

It has to be admitted, whether you like Musk or not (I think he’s brilliant), his cars are an accessible and almost indefensible target. The risk for the perpetrators is low. The damage to Musk is considerable. Sales of Teslas are collapsing. Tesla’s share price has halved. Used Teslas are depreciating three times faster than other cars. Insurance premiums are up 30 per cent and rising. It is fair to surmise that every time a Tesla burns, fewer people will want to buy one.

We’re electric vehicle pioneers in my sleepy village in Occitanie, somewhat thanks to me. My greatest achievement as a municipal councillor during my otherwise inglorious political career here was persuading the mayor to install a public charging station outside the salle du peuple. Where I led, the villagers followed. There are now at least six Teslas here, and lots of electric Renaults. But the smug smirks of us Teslarati have been wiped off our faces as we fear attacks on our cars. So far, the mob has not descended upon our commune, but determined leftist crazies have ventured to our part of the world before. Our Aldi was once bombed for selling Spanish wine.

What are we to do if the war on Teslas escalates? I had a word with Marc, the brigadier of our municipal police force, and he has promised to be on high alert. He’s a good cop. We had a burglary in the village once, and Marc caught the thief. We have the makings of a self-defence militia. Alain, a neighbour who is a senior officer in the gendarmerie, has a personal stake in this, a 2023 white Model 3. He has his own 9mm deterrent.

And not to be underestimated is Oleksandr, one of our Ukrainian refugees, who rocked up 18 months ago in a top-of-the-line Model X, with Kyiv licence plates, provoking a certain amount of gossip. Marie, our village pharmacist, who drives a white Model Y, is another member of our Tesla gang, although she’s a gentle soul and I’m not sure how much use she would be faced with a leftist mob. Should it come to outright combat, she could dress our wounds, I suppose.

Marc has told me that we’re not allowed to open fire on anarchists who appear with petrol cans. Let’s hope his stricture isn’t tested. With lots of wild boar roaming around this part of the world, most of us are straight shooters, and we have plenty of guns and ammunition. Gun laws are fairly relaxed. You just need your doctor to sign a declaration that you’re not mad. ‘Have you ever wanted to shoot anyone?’ asked mine. ‘I havea long list,’ I replied. He signed anyway.

To be honest, all this is not quite what I had in mind when I bought my Tesla. I now wonder whether it’s a good purchase. Elon Musk might be the smartest guy in the solar system, but he’s going to have to come up with a brilliant plan to save his brand. Even his loyal customers are having doubts.

Livro - Marcello Caetano de Luis Menezes Leitão

 Biografia exaustiva e imparcial do Professor Marcello Caetano

Filmes - A conspiração do Cairo

 

The Spectator - Is France still a democracy?

 

(personal underlines)

https://www.spectator.co.uk/article/is-france-still-a-democracy/?utm_medium=email&utm_source=CampaignMonitor_Editorial&utm_campaign=BOCH%20%2020250404%20%20House%20Ads%20%20GK+CID_65a3d7cce82cde73aa9691ae5f4ac1e8

Is France still a democracy?

Jonathan Miller31 March 2025, 12:05pm

(Photo: Getty)

Marine Le Pen has been declared ineligible to run for president of France. She has been given a suspended prison sentence, she will be barred from standing in elections for five years, and she will have to wear an ankle bracelet for two years. She will also have to pay a fine of €100,000 after she was found guilty of using European Parliament money to pay her own party’s salaries. This has been determined to have been embezzlement but her supporters describe it as a purely technical offence and her disqualification as lawfare.

The dramatic judicial intervention into the French presidential campaign is threatening to deny to voters the choice of the candidate who is ahead in all opinion polls. On the news channels this lunchtime, the question was being posed: is France still a democracy?

The conviction and punishment is being saluted this afternoon by Le Monde and the Parisian commentariat as a huge setback for her Rassemblement National populist party. That’s not clear. Indeed very little is now clear. She will appeal. Her supporters will talk of une guerre juridique. She may emerge stronger than ever, like Donald Trump, the victim of prolonged legal warfare himself.

The 2027 election is now at peak variable geometry. And it sets up intriguing scenarios. If her disqualification stands, and that’s not certain, she would be succeeded as her party’s presidential candidate by Jordan Bardella, who is 29 years old, has considerable political talent, and would be the first first-ever Millennial candidate for the French presidency. Bardella is bound to attract attention and is hugely popular with women who judge him easy on the eye. But then everything looks atomised. Macron can’t run again. Many are plotting. 

Still, I’m not writing off Marine. She is the most resilient politician in France. She has run three times for the presidency and has never been closer. That the French judiciary, which is heavily politicised, should intervene to stop her, is going to raise some difficult questions and add fuel to the argument that lawyers have entangled themselves too deeply in politics.

The Spectator - When will Britain wake up to the Islamist threat?

 (personal underlines)

https://www.spectator.co.uk/article/when-will-britain-wake-up-to-the-islamist-threat/?status=Non-subs&utm_medium=email&utm_source=CampaignMonitor_Editorial&utm_campaign=BLND%20%2020250110%20%20HOUSE%20ADS%20%20IH+CID_ded80be22729db0f59fd72562ad0c06d

When will Britain wake up to the Islamist threat?

10 January 2025, 6:00am

(Credit: Joel Saget/AFP via Getty Images)

A poll this week in France found that 78 per cent of respondents are in favour of proscribing the wearing of Muslim headscarves at universities and also for classroom helpers on school outings.

The poll was conducted after comments by the Interior Minister, Bruno Retailleau, in a newspaper interview. ‘Helpers [on school trips] don’t have to wear headscarves,’ he said. ‘The headscarf is not just a piece of cloth: it’s a banner for Islamism, and a statement of women’s inferiority in relation to men.’ In the same interview, Retailleau promised to stem immigration into France because it ‘is partly linked to Islamism’.

Retailleau’s remarks underline the huge gulf that separates the governments of France and Britain in regard to their attitude towards political Islam.

This divide is not a new phenomenon. In the 1990s and early 2000s, the French intelligence service nicknamed the British capital as ‘Londonistan’ because successive governments allowed Islamic extremists from around the world to set up home and proselytise with impunity. The most notorious was the Egyptian cleric, Abu Hamza, who for years spewed his hatred of the West from the Finsbury Park Mosque until, in 2004, he was extradited across the Pond at the insistence of the Americans.

Bruno Retailleau’s predecessor at the Interior Ministry was Gerald Darmanin, who in a debate with Marine Le Pen in 2021 accused her being too ‘soft’ on Islamism. Darmanin is the new Minister of Justice in Francois Bayrou’s government, replacing the soft Socialist Didier Migaud who was out of his depth during his short stint in Michel Barnier’s administration.

In May last year, Darmanin encouraged Emmanuel Macron to initiate a detailed public investigation into the Muslim Brotherhood’s expansion throughout France. Atrocities committed by men swearing allegiance to Isis or Al-Qaeda garner global headlines, but they do more harm than good to those Islamists whose goal is to conquer Europe because they repel their fellow Muslims. More than a third of the 86 people killed by an Islamist in Nice in 2016 were Muslims.

The Brotherhood’s strategy is one of soft power. Describing the Brotherhood as a ‘vicious organisation’, Darmanin explained how they deployed ‘much gentler methods…[to] gradually bring all sections of society into the Islamic matrix’.

This warning was reiterated last month  by Bertrand Chamoulaud, head of the National Directorate for Territorial Intelligence. He explained that the Brotherhood’s ‘infiltration affects all sectors: sports, health, education, etc,’

Darmanin and Retailleau are expected to collaborate on a proposal that the latter first raised in an address to France’s prefects last October. It is a law targeting ‘the nature and strategies of political Islam’, which in the opinion of Retailleau, seeks to convert society ‘in small steps: in associations, businesses and even sometimes our local authorities’.

At the same time that the French government is confronting the enormity of the threat posed by political Islam, the British government is considering whether to push forward with plans to make it harder to critique Islam.

This could be achieved with an official definition of what constitutes ‘Islamophobia’, a word that the French government rejected as far back as 2013 when the Minister of the Interior Manuel Valls (now the Minister for Overseas) said: ‘Those who use this word are trying to invalidate any criticism at all of Islamist ideology.’

Last year, Darmanin said the concept of ‘Islamophobia’ was key to the Brotherhood as ‘it covers their primary strategy, that of victimisation’.

Much of Britain’s political class takes a different view. In 2019 the All-Party Parliamentary Group on British Muslims defined Islamophobia as ‘rooted in racism and is a type of racism that targets expressions of Muslimness or perceived Muslimness.’ 

Running the country in 2019 was Theresa May, a Tory leader who said the 2015 Charlie Hebdo massacre was ‘not Islamic and is not in the name of their religion’. This declaration – made a few days after the atrocity – contradicted the gunmen, who were heard to cry as they left the building ‘we have avenged the Prophet Muhammad’.

Kemi Badenoch hasn’t got the naivety of May, and at Wednesday’s PMQs she asked Keir Starmer to abandon the Labour party’s adoption of the definition of Islamophobia because of ‘its chilling effect’.

The Prime Minister gave a non-committal response.

He and his party appear incapable of grasping the most basic of facts: it is unacceptable to discriminate against someone because of their religion; it is acceptable to criticise a religion.

Last year, the French government warned that ‘Islamist separatism is a theorised politico-religious project…aimed at building a counter-society. The Muslim Brotherhood plays a major role in disseminating such a system of thought.’

The French academic Florence Bergeaud-Blackler has been investigating the Brotherhood for three decades and the fruits of her labour were published in a 2023 book. She described how the organisation had implanted itself in Britain more successfully than any other European country except for Belgium. ‘Victimisation has become the formidable weapon of the Brotherhood’s soft power for bending democracies by keeping them in a state of permanent and blinding indignation,’ wrote Bergeaud-Blackler; she was on the radio this week, citing Britain as an example of a country that is all to eager to accommodate Islamism.

Knowing the Prime Minister, he might label such a declaration as ‘far-right’. It’s not, it’s a statement of fact.

Reflexão - Margarida Bentes Penedo

 (sublinhados meus)

https://observador.pt/opiniao/dia-das-mulheres-extraordinarias/

Dia das Mulheres Extraordinárias

Em que mundo é que a dra. Alexandra Leitão é extraordinária? Ou a dra. Inês Pedrosa, autora dos livros e dos comentários mais deprimentes de Portugal? Ou @s sr@s. Ministr@s que menstru@m?

Margarida Bentes Penedo 

17 abr. 2025, 00:18

A ONU estabeleceu que o Dia Internacional das Mulheres passava a ser celebrado anualmente, a 8 de Março. Também na Assembleia Municipal de Lisboa vários partidos apresentaram documentos oficiais com votos de saudação. Por dificuldades de agenda, capítulo que a sra. Presidente da Mesa domina com esforço, só se discutiu no último dia do mês.

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Primeiro comentário. É preciso reconhecer que ainda hoje há mulheres a ganhar menos do que os homens em trabalhos iguais, para desempenhar as mesmas funções. Existe sobretudo em algumas das escassas fábricas que nos restam, em indústrias de baixo valor acrescentado, tecnologia básica, em lugares de operários pouco especializados e com baixo nível de instrução. Mantém-se uma injustiça que é preciso combater e para a qual é preciso encontrar uma resposta.

Os donos dessas fábricas são por regra gente corajosa, apertada entre margens de lucro estreitíssimas, regulação implacável, rapacidade fiscal, e responsabilidade de prover a famílias inteiras, cujos membros muitas vezes são todos seus empregados. Talvez a resposta à injustiça passe por aceitar que não podem pagar o mesmo a todos; e explicar-lhes que devem pagar mais aos operários que produzem mais, independentemente de serem homens ou mulheres. Ou seja, mostrar-lhes que as diferenças de salário devem assentar nas diferenças de produtividade, e não no sexo dos operários. Isso motiva as pessoas a trabalhar melhor e pode contribuir para subir o rendimento da empresa. O maior amigo da igualdade ainda é o capitalismo: interessa o dinheiro, interessa a respeitabilidade social, não interessa as circunstâncias – sexo, origem, cor, religião, ou costumes – de quem produz.

Segundo comentário. Incide sobre a tese em voga este ano, segundo a qual “o voto das mulheres é uma conquista da revolução” (ou “do 25 de Abril”). Toda a esquerda se juntou num coro para explicar ao povo que “o Estado Novo tratava mal as mulheres, veio a revolução e deu-lhes o direito de voto”. Das teses mais estúpidas de sempre, e Deus sabe como a esquerda é perita em estupidez. Até parece que os homens votavam durante o Estado Novo, e as mulheres eram discriminadas. Peço licença para informar a nossa querida esquerda do seguinte: o Estado Novo restringiu o direito de voto das mulheres, mas também dos homens. Nesse capítulo, o dr. Salazar estabeleceu em Portugal uma ditadura bastante democrática: recusou eleições livres, tanto aos homens como às mulheres (o Estado Novo aconteceu num tempo em que o sexo era binário).

A I República, sim, negou o voto às mulheres. E mesmo sabendo que não serei excessivamente carinhosa com a esquerda, trago algumas outras ilustres memórias para recordar. A I República foi o regime mais sangrento que houve em Portugal durante os últimos 200 anos. Restringiu o direito de voto em 1913; tinha mais de dois mil presos políticos nas cadeias em 1912; reprimiu brutalmente os sindicatos; massacrou em Angola, em 1915; e negou o voto às mulheres. É neste nobre regime que a esquerda portuguesa ainda hoje se reconhece e se inspira. Entre todas as outras recomendações, a I República também foi um regime mais misógino do que o Estado Novo.

Terceiro comentário. Vai para a ideia de que as mulheres formam um bloco homogéneo e coeso, com as mesmas emoções, os mesmos pensamentos, as mesmas preocupações e aspirações, as mesmas mundividências e as mesmas ideias políticas. Pior. A juntar à sopa turva de mulheres equivalentes, as mulheres são também todas extraordinárias. Se a ideia anterior era a mais estúpida, esta é a mais irritante. Não, não somos todas extraordinárias. Há mulheres anti-fascistas, outras não querem saber disso para nada; há mulheres despóticas, mulheres liberais, e grandes estupores; há oportunistas, há malcriadas, e há senhoras encantadoras. Em que mundo é que a dra. Alexandra Leitão é extraordinária? Ou a dra. Inês Pedrosa, autora dos livros e dos comentários mais deprimentes de Portugal? Ou @s sr@s. Ministr@s que menstru@m? Safa!, quando se fala dos homens, alguém imagina que são todos iguais?

Quarto comentário. As sacrossantas cotas, porque “as cotas favorecem as mulheres”. A sério? Quais mulheres? Sim, as cotas favorecem as incompetentes e prejudicam as mais capazes. Mais uma vez, tratam as mulheres como se fossem iguais entre si, apenas diferentes dos homens, velhacos sem emenda que só pensam em achincalhá-las. Na verdade, é precisamente o contrário. Ser contra as cotas é compreender que homens e mulheres têm a mesma aptidão para atingir o mérito. Os homens não são à nascença mais capazes do que as mulheres, portanto, as mulheres não precisam da condescendência dos homens para chegar aos lugares reservados pela esquerda. Nenhum cidadão merece ser castigado por nascer homem. E nenhum cidadão, homem ou mulher, precisa de ser protegido com paternalismo. As cotas são uma forma de infantilização.

Reflexão - Gonçalo Poças

 (sublinhados pessoais)

https://observador.pt/opiniao/digam-qualquer-coisa-interessante/

Digam qualquer coisa interessante

Será pedir muito que alguma alma que ainda insiste na política portuguesa diga alguma coisa de novo? Que nos tratem como se ainda estivéssemos acordados?

Nuno Gonçalo Poças 

22 abr. 2025, 00:20

Voltei, no passado sábado, do Vale do Loire, depois de uma semana de férias. Por hábito de quem aprecia a sua rotina, desfiz as malas na exacta noite do regresso, mas talvez devesse tê-las deixado intactas, como quem aprecia o prazer perverso de adiar regressos.

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França tem os seus problemas, que não são poucos, mas tem sempre a grande vantagem de nos embebedar pela beleza, e não pelo tédio. Os franceses, não raras vezes, e talvez injustamente, acusados de arrogância e soberba, terão os seus defeitos comuns de civilização, mas possuem uma predisposição para o belo que apazigua. Ao invés, o nosso espaço público – e talvez também o espírito – é exclusivamente de uma sobrevivência funcional, nunca de um prazer ornamental. França faz das suas frustrações decoração; nós embrulhamo-las em papel de merceeiro. E adiante, antes que o leitor discuta – ou, pior, que se aborreça.

Ao fim de dois dias, esquecera-me a campanha eleitoral em que Portugal, mais uma vez, mergulhou. Recordei-a, com esforço, para participar num Contra-Corrente, da nossa rádio Observador. Tínhamos passado o pequeno-almoço a conversar, entre franceses, suíços e australianos, os problemas de cada uma das respectivas democracias. Entre problemas e desapontamentos idênticos, e sem que ninguém se assumisse de esquerda ou de direita, conservador ou progressista, globalista ou soberanista, lá fomos deixando soltar opiniões, quase sempre com medo injustificado de ferir susceptibilidades alheias. O resultado foi uma melancólica proclamação de afirmações de senso comum, de como ele parece fora de moda em quem nos deveria representar a todos, e um generalizado encolher de ombros de quem tem vontade de proclamar «é o que há, não é bom, mas que se há-de fazer?». Estando todos de acordo, acabámos a rir, quando um dos australianos, advogado como eu, contou o que disse a um dos filhos quando este lhe perguntou o que achava de seguir uma carreira jurídica: Son, do I look like a happy man? O rapaz reflectiu: He’s now a doctor. Subscrevi cinicamente a tese, abaixo o Direito, abaixo a Política, que ninguém é perfeito, engolimos mais um pedaço de pain au chocolat e fomos às nossas respectivas vidas, comigo já embrenhado, com esforço, em pensamentos sobre a nossa campanha eleitoral.

Mas qual campanha, santo Deus? Estamos em campanha, é um facto. Mas o país parece estar noutro momento político qualquer. Talvez o do vazio, resignado por ter de, novamente, votar onde sempre votou, mesmo que os rostos mudem e as cores partidárias se alterem. Quando não se muda de canal, assiste-se aos debates. Entre impostos baixos, reformas altas e proclamações várias, sobra um quadro político que parece viciado em «coisas boas», que todos merecemos, sem excepção. Nenhum dos candidatos parece acreditar no que diz — e nós acreditamos cada vez menos em quem diz seja o que for. Os debates são teatro de bonecos de corda, puxados por sondagens e alimentados a soundbites. E muitas «coisas boas», que as más não dão votos, dizem os especialistas. O que é que se propõe, afinal? Pouco. Como se propõe? Mal. A quem se propõe? A quem não muda de canal, de voto decidido não raras vezes há décadas. Os debates são um jogo de sombras num fundo de ecrã azul. Fala-se em impostos, em saúde, em educação, em habitação, como se estivessem a escolher pratos para um menu que ninguém vai cozinhar. Assisti, com dedicação, bravura e pouca glória a vários deles, indiferente, como quem revê um episódio de uma série que já cancelaram lá fora.

A última vez que senti que alguém dizia algo politicamente valioso em língua portuguesa foi quando li a entrevista de Maria João Avillez a Isabel Díaz Ayuso, e estava traduzida do castelhano. Parecia um milagre estar escrito em português, mas como era traduzido constatava-se que era bem real. Uma mulher viva, ordenadamente desordenada, livre. Alguém a falar com veemência, sem pedir desculpa, sem esperar aprovação. Presumo que tenha sido quase estrangeiro demais para ser publicado.

Talvez a culpa seja minha. Talvez esteja a pedir ao país um charme que ele nunca prometeu. Talvez espere uma política que não morre nos rodapés das televisões, na fila para votar ou no cheiro a carne assada partidária. Mas caramba — será pedir muito que alguma alma que ainda insiste na política portuguesa diga alguma coisa de novo? Que nos tratem como se ainda estivéssemos acordados?

Reflexão - Alexandre Borges

 (sublinhados pessoais)

https://observador.pt/opiniao/a-extrema-era-a-outra-direita/

A extrema-era-a-outra-direita

Imaginemos que a direita moderada aceitava formar um governo de maioria com o Chega, para fazer as reformas necessária. O que sucederia depois? Que reformas seriam essas?

03 abr. 2025, 00:20

Vamos fingir, por um momento, que o Chega não é um partido que quer derrubar o “sistema” e que, em vez disso, poderíamos contar com ele para o reformar “por dentro”. Vamos fingir que o Chega não tem esse nome eloquente quanto ao que pensa e pretende, com um ponto de exclamação no fim. Que não se filia numa família partidária internacional de partidos apoiantes de regimes autocratas, dos Putins aos Orbáns da vida, e que o que faria, se o deixassem, não era implementar um do mesmo tipo em Portugal, naturalmente em torno do seu líder alegadamente indicado por Deus para salvar o país.

Vamos fingir que o Chega não quer, assumidamente, o fim desta república e começar uma quarta, assente num regime convenientemente presidencialista. Vamos fingir que o Chega não tem uma proximidade perigosa com grupos neonazis, que não grita “nem mais um” nas suas manifestações anti-imigração; que não ronda constantemente um discurso xenófobo e racista ou até que se sabe comportar na Assembleia da República. Finjamos que nada disto nos causa repulsa, não ofende os nossos valores, que é tudo exagero, que as “linhas vermelhas” foram um erro e que deveríamos poder contar com o Chega para formar a maioria de direita necessária para fazer as reformas de que o país precisa. Sim, imaginemos que, se os resultados das eleições de 18 de Maio assim o viessem a permitir, a direita moderada aceitava formar um governo de maioria com o Chega. O que sucederia depois? Que reformas seriam essas?

Para chegar a essas respostas, vamos ter de continuar a fingir mais um pouco. Vamos fingir agora que André Ventura aceitava ser número dois de um governo liderado pelo PSD (admitamos, para conveniência do exercício, que aceitava que o primeiro-ministro fosse Montenegro ou que o PSD tivesse encontrado outra solução para a liderança). Que se tornava, de repente, confiável e não no político que foi até agora, com quem não se pôde contar nem para eleger um Presidente da Assembleia. Alguém que quer, assumidamente, destronar o PSD e que, em inúmeras ocasiões, de que o cartaz dos “50 anos de corrupção” é só o último exemplo, não hesitou em declará-lo igual ao PS, pelos vistos não só agora, mas ao longo de toda a sua história.

Finjamos ainda mais um pouco – eu sei que estou a abusar; o leitor já merece um Óscar, mas estamos quase lá. Finjamos que o Chega tem uma boa base de recrutamento para ministros, secretários de Estado, membros de gabinetes. Finjamos que a Spinumviva e as obras do t1 de Luís Montenegro é que são casos graves e que o país sobreviveria a governantes que roubassem aleatoriamente malas no aeroporto, se envolvessem em casos de prostituição de menores, conduzissem embriagados ou o que mais estará para vir, num partido que, promoveu, do dia para a noite, recém-alistados a deputados e autarcas e que filtra tanto quem lá entra como o arraial de Vila Pouca dos Assobios.

Finjamos, por fim, que o Chega é um partido competente, que não falha três vezes o prazo para a entrega do relatório com as conclusões de uma comissão de inquérito que ele mesmo solicitou para, no fim, entregar uma coisa que consegue o milagre de pôr todos os partidos, da IL ao PCP, a chumbar o documento e a dizer que não foi nada daquilo que a comissão concluiu.

Pronto. Ufa. Agora que está tudo fingido, vejamos, então: que reformas é que a direita iria fazer em Portugal com o Chega?

O Chega que, há dias, queria “canalizar” os lucros da banca para pagar rendas e créditos à habitação. Que foi o primeiro, ao lado do Bloco, a contestar a “via verde para a imigração” – e com o mesmíssimo discurso. Que queria fundos europeus para pagar pensões e que os contribuintes continuem a financiar a TAP – pelo menos desde que mudou de ideias e já não é contra a nacionalização. Que propôs aumentar as pensões para o nível do salário mínimo, conta tão astronómica que nunca soube sequer calcular, acabando por cifrá-la entre os 4,5 mil milhões de euros e os 7 mil milhões (uma diferença de 2,5 mil milhões de euros – trocos), qualquer coisa, nos seus valores máximos, a rondar todo o orçamento dos ministérios da Educação ou das Infraestruturas. E que, no somatório das medidas constantes do seu último programa eleitoral, aumentava a despesa do Estado em mais de 5% do PIB, aumento estratosférico que não explicava como pagar, tirando umas ideias vagas sobre cortes nas verbas alegadamente destinadas a financiar políticas de ideologia de género ou que recuperaria através de um miraculoso combate à corrupção.

É com este partido que a direita iria fazer as reformas de que o país precisa? Com o partido que votou, sucessivamente, contra o governo de direita e ao lado do PS? O partido que, a par do PCP, disparou, à primeira oportunidade, uma moção de censura contra o governo, coisa que nem o PS fez?

Ah, talvez tenha sido só agora. Oportunidade política, sabem como é. Cheirou-lhes a sangue na água e atacaram – é da natureza dos partidos. No fundo, no fundo, eles são de direita.

Não. É ver o debate do orçamento de Estado, aquele que André Ventura ora queria “irrevogavelmente” chumbar, amuado por não ter sido o preferido para a negociação, ora estava disponível para deixar passar, a troco de qualquer coisa mais ou menos absurda para as contas do Estado como um referendo à imigração. No fim (contas do Correio da Manhã), o Chega foi o partido que mais propostas de alteração apresentou ao orçamento de um governo de direita – mais do dobro das do Bloco. E quem foi que votou mais vezes a favor das propostas de alteração do Chega? O Bloco e o PAN. Inês Sousa Real concordou com, nada mais, nada menos, do que 426 iniciativas do Chega, e o Bloco com mais de metade. Por sua vez, o Chega votou a favor de basicamente metade das propostas da esquerda: 49,6%. E se continua a achar que isso foi de agora, que era Ventura zangado com Montenegro por não o ter convidado para o governo, vá mais atrás, ao tempo de António Costa. Vá ver se não era já o Chega o partido que mais votava favoravelmente as propostas do PS na negociação dos orçamentos.

Ou seja, mesmo que engolíssemos todos os nossos princípios e acreditássemos, religiosamente, que em três tempos não íamos ter o governo refém dos escândalos de hipotéticos governantes do Chega, diga: que reformas, ao certo, é que a direita ia fazer com o Chega?

O Chega não é bem um partido de extrema-direita; é um partido de extrema-direita com dislexia, como aquelas pessoas que viram à esquerda quando lhes pedimos para virar à direita e a quem depois se diz “era a outra direita”. Sem ofensa para os disléxicos. É um partido unipessoal, em torno do qual se juntou meia dúzia de pessoas convictamente conservadoras, mas que, em nome da ambição de crescer e chegar depressa ao poder, virou bar aberto. Resultado: ou não funciona; ou, quando funciona, não é de direita; ou quando é de direita, é da extrema. Reformas com o Chega? É melhor agarrarem a carteira. (Sim. E, se calhar, também o trolley.)

The Spectator - Football is demolishing its past

 (personal underlines)

https://www.spectator.co.uk/article/football-is-demolishing-its-past/?status=Active&utm_medium=email&utm_source=CampaignMonitor_Editorial&utm_campaign=BLND%20%2020250312%20%20HOUSE%20ADS%20%20IH+CID_a07732b84ef484902350ff9c552a5a4c

Football is demolishing its past

Old Trafford is just the latest condemned stadium

12 March 2025, 5:01am

The new Old Trafford (Manchester United)

Saturday 17 May will see the final ever game at Everton’s Goodison Park, and with it the end of 133 years of history. Unless the rumour of a last-minute reprieve involving the women’s team turns out to be true (highly unlikely), the bulldozers will soon get to work and the ground will be reduced to rubble. The club will move into a new ‘super arena’ at Bramley-Moore Dock, Vauxhall, for the 2025/26 season.

Sad? Well, yes. The club, on its website, has acknowledged the mixed feelings of the faithful but promised the move will be an ‘exciting new chapter in the club’s history’, with the additional 13,000 seats in the new ‘365-day’ ground offering space for additional ‘fandom’, including many more of those all-important, merchandise-hungry ‘tourists’. For the particularly sentimental, though, a special ‘Goodbye to Goodison commemorative pack’ is available (£65 + P&P).

This is becoming a familiar story, with Goodison just the latest historic ground consigned to history in the rapacious Premier League era. Highbury, Maine Road, Ayresome Park, Upton Park, Ninian Park, Roker Park, Burnden Park, the Dell, Filbert Street, the Baseball Ground, Highfield Road – all have been demolished and replaced with supposedly unique but, in reality, homogeneous chrome-and-steel mega-stadiums with about as much charm as an out-of-town shopping centre. And according to plans from Jim Radcliffe, the 115-year-old Old Trafford will be replaced by the ‘Wembley of the North’ in the next few years.

Not all clubs relocate, but even the new grounds that stand on old sites lack the magic of the originals. Tottenham Hotspur Stadium is hardly a football ground at all (football is the ninth item on the drop-down menu of coming attractions, behind boxing, F1 karting, Beyoncé and Kendrick Lamar). It may still be on the sacred soil, but it feels like replacing Nuovo Cinema Paradiso with an Odeon multiplex. As for the new Wembley, who really prefers the arch to the towers? Not a certain Diego Maradona, who, when he heard of the demolition and rebuild, lamented: ‘Why couldn’t they just remodel it?’ Why indeed?

For sure, there are undoubted advantages with the new stadiums, which are bigger, safer and more comfortable. And more flexible; it is hard to imagine Taylor Swift playing Goodison and getting changed in the home dressing room, but at the Bramley-Moore super-stadium, perhaps she might. Clubs are businesses, after all, and if the market demands more access and local residents won’t permit expansion (as happened to Arsenal), then it would be Rachel Reeves-ish to stand in the way of a revenue-boosting move. And with more than 14 Premier League clubs having foreign owners, such thinking is inevitable.

But what is the cost? There is a cavalier, almost Beeching-esque haste about the way these venerable stadiums are being pulverised, and a worrying disregard of fans’ feelings in the matter. In Everton’s case, the ground is in the centre of a residential neighbourhood, a symbol of football’s place in the community (a church protrudes at one corner and Sunday kick-off times still take account of congregants). It’s a quirky, tight little arena where, as Ally McCoist said, when commenting on the recent epic 2-2 draw with Liverpool, ‘You can cheer the tackles.’

History seeps from the rafters at Goodison: an FA Cup final was held here, and a World Cup semi-final. It was the site of England’s first ever home defeat to a non-British team (0-2 to Ireland in 1949). The Gwladys Street and Bullens Road ends were bomb-damaged in the second world war. Partly designed by the great architect Archibald Leitch, Goodison is a thing of beauty and one of the last top-flight grounds where another era, another England, can be glimpsed and felt.

Which perhaps points to the most disturbing aspect of the slow death of the traditional football ground – a rejection of that past, of that other England. There has been a steady erasure of all traces of the pre-Premiership era in recent years, with barely recognisable strips, rebranded and revamped tournaments, and constant aggressive marketing. Even statistics are being distorted, with ‘all-time Premier League top scorer’ or appearances replacing the far more meaningful top-tier figures – as if football wasn’t being played before 1992.

Then there are the new match-day norms such as taking the knee, rainbow armbands and corner flags, diverse commentary teams, ‘player’ not ‘man’ of the match awards, and breaks in play to facilitate Ramadan. These things are far more suited to the bland, corporate and homogeneous all-purpose enormo-domes of a dockside development zone or trading estate than the cosy little community grounds amid rows of terraced houses, corner shops and pubs.

It almost feels as if the clubs in the greedy, glossy Premiership era are somewhat embarrassed by their pasts and values, of which their rickety old stadiums are an all-too-vivid reminder. Thus, those grand old grounds must go, and all evidence of that time is being forgotten.

The Spectator - The democratisation of cocaine

 

(personal underlines)

https://www.spectator.co.uk/article/the-democratisation-of-cocaine/?status=Active&utm_medium=email&utm_source=CampaignMonitor_Editorial&utm_campaign=BLND%20%2020250312%20%20HOUSE%20ADS%20%20IH+CID_a07732b84ef484902350ff9c552a5a4c

The democratisation of cocaine

The drug has become utterly classless

12 March 2025, 5:00am

(iStock)

Love or loathe Danny Dyer, hard-man hooligan of Football Factory, EastEnders bod and breakout Rivals star, but he does talk sense. The kind of straight-up, geezer sense you can only get down the pub, a locale to which he is no stranger. In the promotional press for his latest film, Marching Powder, Dyer, when pressed on the not-so-euphemistic title of the film, had the following to say on cocaine: ‘I’ve got that social butterfly thing where I mix in both circles and believe me, everyone’s fucking at it […] it’s classless actually, that drug.’

To some of us, this may seem obvious. In my decade of active addiction, I obtained and recreationally ‘enjoyed’ the drug with anyone from builders to baronets. Whether or not they ‘enjoyed’ me talking absolute bollocks until five in the morning is another matter; I like to think that we all got what we came for. This was during the early 2000s, and coke was easily available in London for relatively little money (that I didn’t have, but grateful thanks to my Barclays overdraft facility). As a posh bad girl, I didn’t consult Debrett’s to see what kind of drug it befitted me to take – I just wanted to drink more without collapsing. Now that’s posh.

But cocaine has long had a peculiar class problem. From around 2018 onwards, government pronouncements on cocaine targeted middle-class yuppies as irresponsible, ‘champagne socialists’, according to the then-Metropolitan Police commissioner, Cressida Dick: ‘There is a group of people who worry about global warming and fair trade […] but think there is no harm in taking a bit of cocaine.’ Mayor of London Sadiq Khan was quick to follow up, taking aim at ‘middle-class Londoners’ who considered cocaine use a ‘victimless crime’.

This association between cocaine and the careless north London yuppie was caused partly because social scourges need identifiable scapegoats in the national media. But it exists also because it suited the government to overlook the radical transformation that cocaine was undergoing – both in class and generation – making it far more widespread than Conservative politicians such as Priti Patel wanted to admit. Other class- and wealth-driven associations stuck to cocaine in enduring ways. Cocaine was glamourised in the hard-partying, It-Girl nineties by models like Kate Moss and Naomi Campbell, leaving its traces all over wealth and femininity. This was at a time when feminism co-opted alcohol and drug use as part of the ‘having-it-all culture’ that was splashed across the burgeoning internet.

These days, cocaine is neither exclusively for the posh nor the proles, men nor women, the rich nor poor, the young nor old. In a radical, slow-burn brand transformation – of the type that politicians can only dream of – it is for all. According to a BBC report a few years ago, ‘cocaine use is spread across different income groups, with some parts of the country more likely to take the drug than those on higher incomes’, or, to put it more bluntly: ‘Overall, a greater number of cocaine users fall into categories that could be described as “just about managing” rather than “middle-class comfort”.’ Office for National Statistics data detailing drug misuse in England and Wales in 2024 also reveals that the use of cocaine in the 55-59 age bracket is on the rise, blowing other assumptions about cocaine use and youth apart.

It’s not all Goldman’s bankers indulging in a few lines after the deal has closed or Eurotrash in Knightsbridge wiping the top of the loo – it might just as well be a nan on a council estate teeing up some lines before tea. Addiction expert Ian Hamilton from the University of York encourages a reframing of the issue even if it simply flips the class narrative: ‘Cocaine is a working-class narcotic; anecdotally I hear of all sorts of people using it – builders, plumbers, joiners, whoever.’ For confirmation of the alleged democratisation of cocaine, I ask the barmaid at my local village pub whether it’s a problem. ‘It’s the tradies, really,’ she says, sighing. ‘We can’t wipe the bathroom down quick enough after 3 p.m.’ I duly hiss at my seven-year-old to wait until we get home to have a pee.

Sober for over 15 years, I have fallen off the graph. The last time I chugged a glass of wine or rang a dealer was in 2010. But it occurs to me that my assumptions about booze and drugs, after well over a decade in the shadow republic of a Twelve Step Fellowship, have evolved. Hard drugs are now that very rare thing in this country: entirely classless. Addiction doesn’t discriminate, after all. What or whom else can we reasonably say this about? Danny Dyer, of course. From Human Traffic to Albert Square to Rivals and back again, he has become that most pervasive, heady thing of all: a national treasure.

The Spectator - Who wants a ‘girl boss’ Snow White?

 (personal underlines)

https://www.spectator.co.uk/article/who-wants-a-girl-boss-snow-white/?utm_medium=email&utm_source=CampaignMonitor_Editorial&utm_campaign=WEEK%20%2020250320%20%20AL+CID_64e3b03e94a720908a4595a805098691

Who wants a ‘girl boss’ Snow White?

The problem with Disney's remake is not that it's 'woke', it's that Rachel Zegler is so pious and sanctimonious

Deborah Ross

Disney’s new Snow White is a live-action remake of the beloved 1937 classic that was cinema’s first full-length animated feature and is still regarded as Walt’s greatest masterpiece – even if fans of The Jungle Book will always have something to say about that. It stars Rachel Zegler, which set the cat among the pigeons, as she is Latino so doesn’t have ‘skin as white as snow’. However, because I’m not a stickler for ‘historical accuracy’ when it comes to fictional characters in fairy tales, this didn’t bother me.

The problem with the film isn’t that it’s gone ‘woke’, it’s that it contains workaday narrative, blandly generic characters and a leaden script that wrings all the magic from the story. Also, I’m not convinced every princess wants to be reinvented as a ‘girl boss’ but I’ve never asked one directly so I can’t be sure.

The film is written by Erin Cressida Wilson and directed by Marc Webb, and set in a land far, far away, by the looks of it. A nice King and a nice Queen have a little girl, whom they name ‘Snow White’ because she was born in a blizzard. The princess is brought up to be ‘fearless, brave, true and fair’ and also to be ‘a leader’. (I’m all for girl bosses, or was. But hasn’t this trope been done to death now? Give us something new. Surprise us!) After Snow White’s mother dies, her father remarries, which leads to all sorts of blended family issues. Most notably, the new Queen (Gal Gadot) is riven with sexual envy when Snow White grows up more beautiful than her. She talks to her mirror about it, for which she would probably get help today. I don’t know why I’m recounting the plot. I’ll stop now and just point out a few things.

There is no prince. Instead, there is a handsome bandit called ‘Jonathan’ (Andrew Burnap) and while I can’t take a bandit called ‘Jonathan’ seriously, each to their own. And let us remember: in the original Brothers Grimm story (1812) the prince stalks Snow White – who was only seven – and ultimately makes off with her glass coffin so he might love and kiss her for ever even though she was thought to be dead. In other words, it’s quite creepy, so let’s be thankful for Jonathan and lapses in ‘historical accuracy’ – unless a grown man making out with a seemingly deceased child is what you most dearly wish to see.

On to the dwarves, which have been created by CGI and have caused another ‘backlash’. Why weren’t real dwarf actors deployed? They probably could have done with the work? Confusingly there is an actor with dwarfism amid the bandits. (Hey, guys, make up your minds!) If you are still recovering from the trauma of Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio, who looked like Freddy Krueger, you will be nervous, but it’s not that bad. They are benign enough – even if they do all have the noses of those old drunks you see down the park. Their version of the songs ‘Heigh-Ho’ and ‘Whistle While You Work’ were the highlight for me. The new songs do not seem especially memorable.

The production values are high and all the enchanted animals are cute, but where are the jokes? And where is the personality? Snow White may now be a ‘girl boss’ but she is so pious and sanctimonious that if you met her at a party you’d say you were just going to the bathroom and then run. I know, I know, it’s for the kiddies but it’s not one of those films that will stay with them throughout their adulthood, such as The Jungle Book has done for me.

Meanwhile, there has been another row because, in casting an Israeli (Gadot) as the evil character, the film must have it in for Israel. God give me strength.

Livro - Nexus (Yuval Noah Harri)

 

Livro - Mousinho de Albuquerque

 

Livro - Cartas entre Marcello Caetano e Lopez Rodo

 

Livros - (Terminados no mesmo dia - 18.04.2025)

 Acabadinhos de "acabar", no mesmo dia.

The Spectator - The game’s up for ‘anti-racist’ racism

 (personal underlines) - ...here we go singing and laughing (in Portuguese: "Cá vamos, cantando e rindo")

https://www.spectator.co.uk/article/the-games-up-for-anti-racist-racism/

The game’s up for ‘anti-racist’ racism

Douglas Murray

There are only a few rules to column-writing. One of the strictest is never to waste time bouncing off the effluent of morons. So, for instance, it is a rule among British columnists not to use the term ‘Owen Jones’ in an article. It is too easy. Every couple of hours there will be another gaseous eruption. For example, this past week Jones, a YouTuber, has been engaged in campaigning to persuade a ‘queer’ British entrant in the Eurovision Song Contest to withdraw from the competition because of Gaza. It is by no means clear how much the citizens of Gaza care for the ‘solidarity’ of a couple of gay blokes in the UK. It is even less clear how anyone withdrawing from Eurovision would convince the Israeli war cabinet to halt the war against Hamas and persuade Hamas to return the hostages. But this is why the ‘Owen Jones’ rule exists. As it’s so easy, opposing him is fundamentally lazy.

For columns about America a similar rule applies: under no circumstances should you ever bounce off anything said on The View. This is a television programme that goes out most lunchtimes on a left-wing US channel and features four semi-lobotomised leftist women and a generally useless, token, vaguely conservative one. Anybody unclear on the format should ask an unemployed person or a student to explain the British show Loose Women and then imagine a less high-brow version.

Even so, rules are occasionally made to be broken, and this one is worth breaking here because last week something actually interesting happened on The View. The programme invited on the brilliant young writer Coleman Hughes to talk about his excellent new book The End of Race Politics. Hughes happens to be black, and is a member of a new generation that have seen through the race-hustle of some of their elders and have the intelligence to notice that if you view people through the prism of colour, it leads to hell – whether your obsession is with promoting white or black folks. Hughes’s argument, which is absolutely at one with Dr Martin Luther King’s message, is that we should try to judge people as people (remember ‘content of their character’?) rather than by the amount of melanin in their skin.

That isn’t to say that Hughes thinks race doesn’t exist or isn’t noticed by people. From the moment that he started getting questioned by Whoopi Goldberg he stressed that obviously people see race – but that a truly ‘colour-blind’ policy would mean that ‘We should try our very best to treat people without regard to race, both in our personal lives and in our public policy’. This got a smattering of applause from the studio audience and an ‘of course’ from Whoopi.

But it isn’t an ‘of course’, of course. Because in recent years young Americans have been indoctrinated into what is known as ‘anti-racism’. This is the theory – if you can call it that – pushed by pseudo-scholars such as Ibram X Kendi which claims that the most important thing about anybody is their race and that everything in the world is so racist that even the idea of being ‘colour-blind’ is racist. Put plainly, this school of thought says that you should be racist in order to be anti-racist. Got it?

Anyhow, Hughes patiently explained his ideas. But like most television shows in America, and Britain, the aim is never to get to the source of an argument and make people think. Instead, the tendency is to occasionally invite a heretic on in order to beat them about a bit and remind the audience why the fare they’re usually fed is correct.

In this case that task was done by a panellist called Sunny Hostin. Any viewer could see that she was clearly deeply antagonistic to what he was saying. After all, if you had made a media career out of talking about racism being everywhere, you too might feel threatened by someone younger and smarter coming along and saying that perhaps we need to move past all this.

Hostin duly took the most patronising and abusive position she could. She claimed to have read Hughes’s book twice ‘to give it a chance’ but said that it was ‘really fundamentally flawed’. Because Hughes invoked the name of Martin Luther King she also had to put him down about that. ‘I’m not only a student of Dr King,’ she said, ‘I know his daughter Bernice, right.’ This is a very sketchy way to try to gain the upper hand: there is no reason why knowing the daughter of somebody should give you a superior understanding of, or claim to, their work. But Hostin was gearing up for the personal attack she deeply wanted to make. She eventually got there when she said that ‘to be honest… many in the black community believe that you are being used as a pawn by the right and are a charlatan of sorts’. Hughes, she claimed, had been sinisterly ‘co-opted’.

Hughes is a nicer person than me, and promptly answered the substance of her argument rather than the ad hominem. In fact he said that ‘it would be better for everyone if we stuck to the topics rather than make it about me’. But of course people like Hostin cannot do that. Everything has to be about ‘me’, because otherwise you might fail in your great climb to the top of the moral hill where you can proclaim yourself winner (preferably with the added crampon of a vague connection to the King family).

Why did this midday moment mean something for once? Because in the desperation of a figure like Hostin – the desperate need to hold the ‘anti-racist’ racist line at all costs (even that of being wildly rude) – you can feel the breaking of a narrative. It was always a hideous idea to counter one type of racism by massively fuelling another one. The cleverer and more decent young people, Hughes among them, recognise that. If some of their elders don’t, well never mind. As people like Hostin and Whoopi Goldberg often say, with their penetrating insight, young people are the future.