sábado, 1 de novembro de 2025

The Spectator - The United Nations is falling apart

 (personal underlines)

LBC - the swamp...(season 2)


The United Nations is falling apart

How Antonio Guterres wrecked the organisation

Antonio Guterres, the UN secretary-general (Getty Images)

As the world’s leaders and foreign ministers meet in New York for the United Nations General Assembly (UNGA) this week, recognition of a Palestinian state is being paraded as progress towards peace. In reality, it is nothing of the sort. It only confirms what has become increasingly obvious to anyone watching the UN over the past eight years: that the organisation is in a state of malaise and its secretary-general, Antonio Guterres, the embodiment of its decline.

The UN is no stranger to dysfunction, which I saw first-hand as a security council counter-terror coordinator for five years. Every secretary-general has faced allegations of irrelevance, hypocrisy or incompetence. But Guterres stands out for having presided over an organisation that is now derided by its own staff. It is not the usual frustrations of understaffing or the griping of a bureaucracy that has never been known for efficiency. It is the weary recognition that the institution has lost its way, and that its leader appears more interested in burnishing his progressive credentials than in delivering results.

Guterres presents himself as a statesman, but in truth he is an old-fashioned European socialist with all the expected traits: endless preaching, no moral courage, and a fondness for rewarding loyal friends with plum jobs they seem unqualified for. The result is a hollowed-out organisation where personal loyalty and national patronage count for more than competence.

The UN has always had its share of cronyism – but under Guterres, that has become the organising principle of appointments, in contravention of the current imperative to make cuts. High-calibre officials with relevant experience are sidelined while mediocrities from the secretary-general’s inner circle are parachuted into high-profile posts. There was particular disquiet among UN staff earlier this year, when Guterres promoted fellow Portuguese national Miguel Graca to assistant secretary-general in March, making him a director in Guterres’s own executive office. Critics observed that a sideways move could have been made at zero cost, rather than incurring the salary burden of creating a new ASG at this time of austerity. 

Guterres is an exceptionally poor leader. I will never forget the vacuum at the top during and after Covid, when the UN became the laughing stock of New York for its excessive attachment to working from home. Instead of leading the calls to get staff back into the office, he devolved decision-making to middle management who ultimately had to bear the brunt of staff complaints about returning to Turtle Bay. As one senior UN manager said to me: ‘Guterres gets to sound like the one who cares about staff welfare, while we have to impose operational necessity on them.’

The charge sheet does not end there. Equally glaring is an inconsistency in his loud campaign for gender parity in senior appointments. This has sometimes extended to throwing carefully compiled interview shortlists back at his top aides and demanding a woman be selected. When his own re-appointment was at stake in 2021, all talk of female empowerment conveniently evaporated. There was no question of stepping aside to support a woman candidate; equality, it seems, was good enough for the bureaucracy but not for him. This hypocrisy is noticed, and it corrodes morale. In the case of the new Portuguese ASG, this particular ‘Global North’ male was allowed to buck the trend of promoting ‘Global South’ females wherever possible.

Guterres’s crusade for fashionable causes does not end with gender politics. However noble his dogged progressivism may seem in the West, such an approach has proved catastrophic in conservative host countries. I am no fan of the death penalty, but when three of the five permanent members of the Security Council have it (China, the United States and technically Russia) what justifies the UN in adopting such an inflexible stance against it in Iraq? When UN overreach leads to expulsion, it leaves the host country and its citizens without the support and protection they desperately need. In recent years, we have seen the UN effectively forced to leave Mali, Sudan and the Democratic Republic of the Congo, and to abandon its work in Iraq on securing justice for the victims of ISIS.

Even staff who still believe in the essential role of the UN despair of the Guterres effect. Speaking of his attendance at the Brics summit in Russia last October, where he was photographed sharing what looked like a very deferential handshake with Vladimir Putin, one official said: ‘Nato wouldn’t put Guterres in a difficult position by inviting him to their summit, but even if they did he wouldn’t attend.’ What this conveys is not just frustration, but a recognition that the UN under Guterres has lost its way. He, however, remains deaf to these warnings, apparently more interested in applause from the lowest common denominator of the general assembly than in preserving access to make a positive difference in Baghdad or Bamako.

For all the malaise inside the organisation, the UN still enjoys reverence among the wider public and an annual budget of £2.75 billion (the British government gives £100 million) for day-to-day running costs. To many people it remains the arbiter of legitimacy in world affairs, a sort of secular Vatican whose pronouncements carry moral weight simply by virtue of being made. That misplaced deference is precisely what has allowed various UN special rapporteurs to make wild assertions that Britain and some of its western allies are serial human rights abusers.

While conflict has spread in many regions in recent years, Guterres has done precious little to stop it. The Gaza war has exposed the rot most starkly. From the moment Hamas launched its 7 October massacre in 2023, murdering families in their homes, raping women and abducting children, Guterres has struggled to say plainly who was responsible. His initial reaction to the terror attack? It ‘did not happen in a vacuum’.

His interventions since have been framed almost entirely in humanitarian terms, with little mention of the hostages, and endless calls for ceasefires that made no demands of Hamas. Despite several countries voicing their concerns, the aggressively controversial Francesca Albanese was reappointed as special rapporteur for Palestine. The UN has turned a deaf ear to increasingly forceful objections from the US to its Palestinian refugee operation, UNRWA, which is hopelessly compromised by its long association with Hamas. And it is also alienating the US by refusing to work with the American-Israeli Gaza Humanitarian Foundation.

The durability of the UN brand meant that last week’s ‘genocide’ report on Gaza landed with the authority of scripture rather than the polemic it truly was. The fact that the chair of the ‘expert panel’ which put the report together has a long history of anti-Israel bias was glossed over once her findings bore the UN stamp. The enduring illusion of UN sanctity allows the institution to launder prejudice and pass it off as impartial judgment. But this illusion of sanctity fools nobody in Washington D.C., where the UN’s most powerful member state and largest donor is sharpening its knives for an organisation in which it has lost all confidence. President Donald Trump’s UNGA speech yesterday was full of scorn for the organisation’s contribution to meeting international challenges.

Into this fog comes the great folly of statehood recognition. At the time of writing, 156 of the UN’s 193 member states have already recognised Palestine and achieved nothing. Ordinary Palestinians remain no freer, no safer and no more prosperous than before.

At best, recognition lends a sheen of legitimacy to ‘President’ Mahmoud Abbas and his corrupt Palestinian Authority, a body so discredited that it has lost control of large parts of the West Bank to Iranian-backed groups. At worst, recognition teaches extremists that massacres work. To grant statehood in the aftermath of 7 October is to confirm that pogroms pay. Applause in the general assembly will only underline the message received on the ground.

Member states that still care about the UN should be under no illusion. An organisation that cannot call Hamas what it is, that loses missions by imposing western social agendas on sceptical hosts, and that breeds contempt among its own staff, all while somehow managing to maintain the gloss and credibility of an internationally renowned arbiter of diplomacy is not merely failing. Some of its perversities are making the world a more dangerous place.

The UN was founded to defend peace and security, and it is still needed to do just that. I have seen too many conflicts in which individual member states either have no interest or refuse to take responsibility, and we will always need the UN or something similar to step into that kind of breach. But under Antonio Guterres the UN has become a theatre of platitudes, a showcase for hypocrisy and an institution starved of resources and hollowed out by malaise.

I hope the UN survives and even thrives beyond Guterres’s tenure. It has many excellent, dedicated staff and the world still needs its services. But the organisation needs reform and new leadership. Until then, recognition of Palestine will be yet another empty gesture in a UN increasingly defined by them.

Reflexão - LBC (sobre o PS)

 Ou, como se acaba com o resto de um partido!

Miguel Prata Roque

Eurico Brilhante Dias





Isabel Moreira (pobre pai...) 




The Spectator - Happy 200th birthday to our railway

 

personal underlines - only in GB...

Happy 200th birthday to our railway

It’s been quite the journey

[Getty]

You might have missed this because it hasn’t exactly been saturated with media coverage, but this week is the 200th birthday of Britain’s railway. In fact, it’s the 200th birthday of all railways, since we invented them.

It was on 27 September 1825 that service began on the Stockton and Darlington Railway. Travelling a distance of just eight-and-a-half miles at about 15mph, the world’s first public commercial rail service arrived to a crowd of 10,000 and – as would become a characteristic feature of future British rail travel – was delayed by half an hour due to engineering problems.

Yes, the worldwide rail revolution began in the north-east of England – the Silicon Valley of rail. I know, not since H.G. Wells decided that the Martians should begin their interplanetary assault on Earth by taking out parts of Surrey has provincial England been so fêted. But it really happened. And as a result of what took place in Darlington that day – thanks to the genius of the concept and a thing called the British Empire which we don’t like to crow about any more – the world now has around 800,000 miles of railway, and billions of railway journeys are made each year.

So, what a gift that was. And thank you to George Stephenson, the Northumberland-born engineer and ‘father of the railways’ who together with his son, Robert, put the steam with the trains and the tracks to make it all happen. Of course, they were standing on the shoulders of giants such as the Cornish rail pioneer Richard Trevithick, but they were the ones who did it. Their Locomotion No. 1 hauled those first passengers two centuries ago, and was built at their works in Newcastle – works which would go on to build 3,000 engines by 1900 alone and eventually formed part of the rail division of the great British industrial conglomerate General Electric Company (along with a dozen other venerable names in the business). These would then merge with Alstom of France in 1989, before the GEC component of it was broken up and sold off in 1998.

Which makes you proud (at least up to the point where we sold it off), but the truth is we do still design and build trains in Derby (Alstom boasts that this is the UK’s ‘largest train factory’), and Hitachi also makes trains in Durham. And this matters, because despite inventing and pioneering computers, we no longer build many of them here, so at least we do turn out a few trains. Perhaps it’s beside the point, though, because like computers, antibiotics, democracy and football, railway is a gift that we have given the world – and it’s a gift that each of us can continue to enjoy, too. Because nothing beats rail travel.

Travelling by train is easily more enjoyable than any species of commercial air travel, with its relentless queuing, absurd belt-and-shoe removal and endless stupidity about laptops and certain quantities of fluids. The train is also far better than travelling by car, because on a train you can actually work or read or drink as much as you like. You can walk around and, of course, you get to avoid service stations, which easily qualify as the most repellent places in Britain. Trains are often faster, greener and, most importantly, they will broaden your horizons in a way that driving just doesn’t seem able to match.

Take the train from London King’s Cross to Edinburgh, for instance, and you are transported pell-mell through time and space. Raised on railway embankments you have a front-row seat on a cacophony of geographies ranging from farmland and pasture to villages, towns, light industry; you pass vast cooling towers, suburbs, cities – through the centres of York, Durham and Newcastle upon Tyne – spying cathedrals, castles and a coastline dotted with gems such as Alnmouth and Berwick-upon-Tweed, Richard III’s great gift to England. Travelling by train from London to Edinburgh isn’t just about getting from A to B: it’s a high-speed masterclass in British anthropology, geography and history. Before you know it you’re marvelling at the landscape, gawping through the window, a tourist in your own country.

And every now and then there’s the thrill of the speed when the driver puts his or her foot down. There’s a section outside London where the tables shake and you know you’re doing well over a ton (the trains can do 140mph, apparently). And below there’s the satisfying rhythm of the rolling stock on the tracks and something reassuring about the fact that we’ve been thumping up down these rails (though hopefully not these exact rails) since the line opened between London and Edinburgh in the late 1840s. In the days of the Flying Scotsman it took six hours to do the 393-mile journey between Edinburgh Waverley and King’s Cross. Now it’s a smidge over four. Perhaps there’s life in the old country yet.

But in a way, the time is irrelevant, because when you’re on the train, you’re on the train. It becomes the whole, rather immersive experience. And it’s a joy that you don’t need to be a former Conservative defence secretary with a penchant for nifty jackets to appreciate.

As well as what’s outside and what the Futurist manifesto called ‘the beauty of speed’, there is the spectacle of what is inside: the great British public. Observing our fellow man and woman in their unguarded moments is a significantly rewarding and much overlooked aspect of rail travel. You don’t overhear the intimate personal problems of perfect strangers in the ‘Quiet carriage’ when you’re on the M6 toll road, nor do you have the pleasure of being forced to listen to someone’s boorish sales negotiations. But that’s all part of the pleasure of rail, or at least it can be.

In 200 years, railways have given the world so much: timetables, the first world war (if you believe your A.J.P. Taylor), the concept of commuting itself, plus commuter towns and the resulting notion of working from home. They’ve given us dining cars, Thomas the Tank Engine, Brief Encounter and Murder on the Orient Express. Where would Crewe be without the railways? Letting the train take the strain on iron tracks has in fact enabled the creation of the industrial civilised world as we know it. It’s been quite a journey, and it all began 200 years ago this week on an eight-mile line between Stockton and Darlington – something we should all be very proud of and grateful for.

The Spectator - The evolution of the political animal

 (personal underlines)


The evolution of the political animal

From Downing Street cats to presidential dogs, they have a long and varied pedigree

Larry the Downing Street cat [Getty]

Most of our politicians themselves are not obedient, kindly and loyal. Similarities between candidates and their faithful cat or dog are few – but as trolls now deter supportive spouses and photogenic children from saccharine election leaflet photos, pets are increasingly becoming familial proxies. When Nigel Farage does a TikTok about his dogs Pebble and Baxter, thousands comment approvingly. But finding a family photo of the Reform UK leader is nearly impossible. And that, says Farage and many like him, is entirely deliberate.

Political animals are not new. Caligula threatened to make his horse, Incitatus, a consul. Cardinal Wolsey’s cat is immortalised in a bronze statue in Ipswich. In the 20th century, cats assuaged Winston Churchill’s black dog, so much so that a ginger cat with white socks called Jock – now in its seventh incarnation – must remain at Chartwell in perpetuity. The British bulldog himself loved animals, with a lion and even an albino kangaroo among the beasts he donated to London Zoo.

From the establishment of the republic, animals bounded, leapt and sauntered around the White House. George Washington had hounds named Sweet Lips, Madam Moose and Taster. John Quincy Adams apparently hosted the Marquis de LaFayette’s alligator, with the reptile thrashing in the executive mansion’s bath in the story, which may be apocryphal. Teddy Roosevelt had more than 40 pets, including macaws, zebras, raccoons, roosters, pigs and rats. His son Quentin, aged five, once escorted Algonquin the pony up in the White House lift.

The Chinese invented panda diplomacy, with the People’s Republic first giving the animals to the Soviet Union. Richard Nixon famously received Ling-Ling and Hsing-Hsing in 1972. Less well-known is Nixon’s reciprocal gift to the Chinese: a pair of Musk oxen.

Not as welcomed, perhaps, was the Akhal-Teke stallion given to John Major by the President of Turkmenistan in 1993. A six-month negotiation, a bribe of Moscow customs officials with a truckload of melons, an attack by bandits and unfortunate handlers being injured by the toothache-afflicted animal all featured in the journey. At its conclusion, the Household Cavalry decided that, ultimately, this particular gift horse was not for them, sending it instead to live in a Carmarthenshire sanctuary.

It wasn’t the first time an animal had put a politician under pressure. Jeremy Thorpe had Rinka. In Sochi in 2006, Vladimir Putin brought his labrador, Koni, to a press conference, knowing Angela Merkel was terrified of dogs after being attacked by one in 1995. Tony Blair said the controversy over the departure of Humphrey the cat from Downing Street was the biggest crisis of his first year of office.

In contrast, Nixon’s ‘Checkers speech’, where he paid tribute to his spaniel, humanised him. Warren Harding’s dog, Laddie Boy, ‘wrote’ articles for newspapers and became famous across the USA. Fala, Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s dog, was the subject of a hilarious speech lampooning Roosevelt’s opponents, with the dog today remaining the only Potus pet to be featured in a presidential memorial.

A Deltapoll survey for my book, Political Animals, suggests almost half of people in the UK know Larry, the Downing Street cat – a level of name recognition for which many backbenchers would kill. And woe betide those who mess with the political animals: Ian Murray MP called Larry ‘a little shit’ as Scotland secretary. In the recent cabinet reshuffle, Murray was out. Larry, in contrast, can laze around the cabinet table any time he chooses.