quarta-feira, 24 de dezembro de 2025

The Spectator - Paris is a city afraid

 (personal underlines)


Paris is a city afraid

Eiffel Tower (Photo by Samuel Aranda/Getty Images)

The New Year’s Eve concert on the Champs Élysées has been cancelled for security reasons. Paris was supposed to host its usual spectacle. A free open-air concert at the Arc de Triomphe, video projections on the monument and the midnight festivities that once drew close to a million people. Instead, the concert has been scrapped. It will be replaced on national television with a prerecorded concert filmed weeks ago with a handpicked crowd to mimic a celebration Paris no longer believes it can safely host. A capital once famed for its public life now performs it under studio conditions.

It marks the collapse of what used to be one of the simplest pleasures of Parisian life. For decades families and friends would spill out onto the streets on New Year’s Eve. Families, couples carrying a bottle of champagne, tourists wrapped in scarves, all drifting towards the Champs Élysées to count down the final seconds of the year. It was spontaneous and cheerful and open to everyone. That Paris no longer exists.

Over recent years ordinary Parisians quietly stopped going. The Champs Élysées on any holiday weekend has become a no-go zone. The crowds have changed. The atmosphere’s changed. I remember hosting American friends one New Year’s Eve a couple of years ago. They suggested walking up to the Champs Élysées at midnight because it was the thing to do. We persuaded them it wasn’t a good idea. Anyone who lives here understands why.

This year what was once the celebration has been reduced to a simulation. Paris must now film a celebration in advance because it cannot trust itself to manage a real one. The city that staged the Olympics cannot handle a national holiday. Paris, a capital that used to defy threats, can no longer manage its crowds.

In recent years the avenue has become the predictable destination for trouble. Large groups stream in from the suburbs on major nights and the pattern repeats itself. Burning scooters. Smash and grab attacks on luxury shops. Running fights with police. Dozens of arrests. Last year there were more than two hundred in Paris alone. Television networks keep a running tally of the number of cars torched across the country. During the Champions League celebrations this summer there were hundreds.

The French state understands all of this. The problem has only gotten worse with the transport reform which cuts the price of public transport for residents of the suburbs while raising them for travel within central Paris itself. Presented as ‘social justice’, it makes it cheaper than ever for huge numbers to surge into the centre from the suburbs on major nights. Parisians now pay more to move around central Paris, while the journey in from the suburbs has never been more affordable. The consequences are obvious. The city and the police are no longer willing to face them.

France spent billions on Olympic security and deployed an army of police officers. The fireworks will still take place at midnight, but they will rise over a boulevard the authorities no longer consider safe for real celebration. The city knows where the pressure lies. It knows who floods into the avenue on nights like these. It knows how quickly things can turn.

The threat of terrorism is also ever present. Interior Minister Laurent Nunez has again raised the threat level for the Christmas period, citing six plots thwarted last year. Many involved very young attackers and most were unknown to the intelligence services. The authorities insist this isn’t the reason for cancelling this year’s celebrations.

Even during the pandemic the city managed partial celebrations. For a decade the Champs Élysées concert has been billed as a moment of national unity. A secular gathering watched by millions live on television. A chance for Paris to present itself as the city where the country comes together. That illusion’s now over. The 2025 version will take place in a controlled studio environment. Paris will broadcast its own celebrations while quietly discouraging its residents from leaving their homes.

The political reactions underline the point. The right calls it capitulation. Bruno Retailleau describes it as the triumph of rising violence over public authority. Emmanuel Grégoire, Mayor Hidalgo’s former deputy and now the socialist candidate for mayor, has said it’s a serious failure of ‘civic responsibility’. He compared it to cancelling the Bastille Day parade. Even the mayor of the 8th district of Paris, who supports the decision to cancel the celebrations, admits openly that the avenue isn’t designed for the crowds who now pour in.

Paris has spent two decades in the grip of an ideological project that ignores reality. The city promised to be greener, cleaner and more progressive. What it’s become is brittle and dangerous. A capital that survives its major events only by cancelling them or surrounding them with police barriers. The Olympics briefly concealed the problem. They didn’t solve it.

The cancellation of New Year’s Eve on the Champs Élysées is confirmation that Paris is no longer is in control of its public space. Paris is certainly more dangerous than in the past. A capital city that can safeguard an Olympics with 45,000 police but now can’t manage New Year’s Eve. The prerecorded concert with a handpicked audience is only the latest symptom. France’s open-door policies have had consequences. The once grand avenue des Champs-Élysées will stay half-abandoned on the night that once defined it. France deserves better than a Potemkin party.

The Spectator - What my pyjamas taught me about China

 (personal underlines)


What my pyjamas taught me about China

About seven years ago, I bought two pairs of pyjamas, one British, the other Chinese. At the time, they seemed of roughly similar quality, the important difference being that the Chinese ones were half the price of the British. Given that they have the same ‘lived experience’, I can make a direct comparison. The British ones, by Peter Christian (‘gentlemen’s outfitters’ accompanied by an image of two hares boxing), show few signs of the passing years. Their reddish colour with green and yellow stripes holds fast. There is very little wear and no tear at all. The Chinese pair (labelled ‘sleepwear’) tells a different story – the drawstring disappeared, the elasticated waist (which the British one wisely eschews) decayed, the blue checks faded, the cotton thinned. Every Chinese button repeats the word ‘global’ on it, twice. I see this as a metaphor for how China conquers the world. I wonder how many people currently buying BYD Chinese electric cars (the initials delusively stand for ‘Build Your Dreams’) will regret their purchase. I wonder how much longer it will take before everyone realises that when China calls itself ‘global’ it remains thoroughly Chinese, its global vision wholly controlled by the Chinese Communist party (CCP).

This week’s statement by the security minister, Dan Jarvis, had a welcome changed tone. It was fierce about Chinese espionage threats, chiefly to parliament. Although the formula about cooperating as well as challenging remains, the emphasis has moved to the latter. Nevertheless, it is unclear how much is actually being done. As the traditional phrase puts it, the diplomats involved are engaged in ‘activities incompatible with their status’. Should they not be expelled? Mr Jarvis wants to ‘degrade the eco-system of proxy cover companies’ doing the work of the CCP. But what about the large British companies and powerful individuals who take Chinese money and do Chinese bidding? Britain’s biggest bank is HSBC, which has consistently given in to CCP demands. Now it is reported that George Osborne, hero of the ‘Golden Era’ of Anglo-Chinese relations, is on the short list to be HSBC’s chairman. Not much ‘challenge’ there, surely.

It is a useful political trick to get someone apparently from the other side to come out for a position one holds oneself. The Daily Mail is a master of this genre, loving articles with headlines like, ‘Why I, a gay man, hate Pride’. On immigration issues, the device has been deployed when politicians of immigrant backgrounds such as Suella Braverman or Priti Patel get tough on migrants, with striking results but not, in terms of policy, real success. Now it is the turn of the Labour party and Shabana Mahmood. She may do better than her Tory equivalents because of the greater shock value of someone from the left speaking as she does. ‘If she is saying it,’ voters may think, ‘it must be true’ or must, at least, grant them permission to express similar views. There is a danger, however, that the purpose is chiefly presentational. When John Prescott was made Tony Blair’s deputy prime minister, his role gave comfort to the old Labour left, but its objective effect was to strengthen Blair’s grip by neutralising opponents. Judging by Ms Mahmood’s conduct in office so far, she is exceptionally determined, but past experience suggests that the ECHR role in smothering our national rights over immigration will leave the Home Secretary gasping ‘I can’t breathe’. Her heavy emphasis on illegal migration will deflect attention from the numerically much greater problem of migration which is legal under existing rules.

We will probably never know if the Russians were responsible for last weekend’s tampering, using explosives, which temporarily stopped Poland’s Warsaw-Lublin railway, the main channel of military and logistical supplies for Ukraine. A train carrying 475 people had to make an emergency stop. There had been no rail attacks on such a scale in Poland since the end of the second world war. The accusation is important, if true, because the next bit of Russia’s war against Nato (which it claims to believe we in effect declared against it) will not need to take the form of violent invasion but will use hybrid means to prevent the usual order of a nation from functioning. Russians will not need to arrive with snow on their boots or in large numbers. Enough for them to convince the populations of their enemies that their governments can no longer protect their internal security – something which is happening the other way round with Ukrainian incursions against Russian infrastructure. To think about what these things mean, it helps to have what J.D. Vance supporters disparage as a ‘World War II brain’. After all, Putin himself has such a brain.

A few weeks back (Notes, 27 September) I mentioned the secret funeral of Oleg Gordievsky, our most successful double agent in the KGB. A poignant detail emerges. The service, in the Guards chapel, was conducted by Russian Orthodox clergy. The chapel had never known such a thing as incense, so all the fire alarms went off.

Obituaries of my friend Dave Ker have rightly concentrated on his extraordinary comic gifts, which included imitation so good that he could fool people on the telephone that he was the then Prince of Wales. The Telegraph obituary summed up his fame as resting on the fact that he was ‘very funny and very fat’. The question for the 21st century is whether either of those qualities can survive. The first is now so contained by guardrails that comedy has become like bullfighting without the estocada. The second, thanks to Wegovy etc, will soon be as obsolete as wooden legs or ear trumpets. It can be said of Dave, as it will not be possible to say of future generations, that he did a fat lot of good, and to mean it as a compliment.


The Spectator - Hamas’s return is revealing Gaza’s true colours

 (personal underlines)

Hamas’s return is revealing Gaza’s true colours

Hamas militants carry a body that they claimed was retrieved in the southern Gaza Strip (Getty images)

Remember that weird little Covid ritual of 2020, when every Thursday at 8pm people stepped out onto their doorsteps and applauded? Banging saucepans, clapping their hands, they lit up the miserable skies with cheers for the National Health Service. It was mawkish, and orchestrated to the point of theatre. But its aim was to express a kind of collective gratitude for those who had become the most visibly important figures in the national story. Nurses and doctors were held in the highest esteem. They were ‘society’s best’. That’s why all those people applauded.

Now ask yourself this: what if those same public servants had spent the pandemic not saving lives but taking them? What if, instead of ventilators and vaccines, they handed out RPGs and marched into homes to slaughter the elderly, kidnap children, rape young women? Would you have rushed to your doorstep to catch a glimpse of their return from the carnage? Would you have cheered them if they paraded down your street? Filmed? Spat on the mutilated bodies of their victims they dragged behind them?

What if they’d seized hostages, slung them in the back of pickups, dead or alive, and driven them into your neighbourhood. Would you have rushed out to the high street, past Greggs and Pret a Manger, hoping to catch a glimpse of a bloodied corpse, stripped, defiled, dead? Would your children raise their phones to film it? Would you yell out praises to God as the killers waved to the crowds?

What if, two years later, those same killers staged a grim spectacle, pretending to ‘discover’ the bodies they had hidden and abused all that time? After two long years of suffering, would you come out again to bang your pots and pans? To celebrate, to cheer, to cry out your devotion? Would your neighbours join you in a square to stamp their feet and chant their names? Because that is exactly what is happening in the Gaza Strip.

In recent days, the Hamas ‘Shadow Unit’ pulled the corpse of an Israeli hostage from a tunnel shaft built with stolen money intended for humanitarian aid. Crowds of Palestinian Arabs whooped and whistled, and filmed on their smartphones. They called out ‘Allahu Akbar’ and offered congratulations to the terrorists. They treated the return of murdered Jews as a parade.

Just as they did on October 7th. Then too, the streets filled with celebration. I watched the footage of Gazans stamping on the body of an Israeli man in uniform, kidnapped into Gaza, his head and groin pummelled by a mob drunk on triumph as he was dragged from the back of a regular looking car. I watched the jeering crowds as the naked body of Shani Louk was paraded through Gaza in a pickup, her corpse spat upon jubilantly by children.

Meanwhile in Israel, public respect was shown yesterday for the return of the bodies of Amiram Cooper and Sahar Baruch. Cooper, 84, was abducted alive from his home in Kibbutz Nir Oz and later murdered in captivity. Baruch, 25, was taken from Kibbutz Be’eri and killed in Hamas hands last December. Both were finally brought home for burial.

During Covid, Britons cheered for those who saved lives. Since the 7th October War, Palestinians have cheered for those who take them. In fact they’ve been doing it for decades, spurred on by an ever-growing movement of equally sick Westerners and Europeans who take to their own streets to chant and whoop as well – ‘Intifada… Khaybar Khaybar… Death to the IDF… Allahu akbar’ now seemingly heard as regularly on our streets as the once restrained saucepan banging for the doctors.

In other videos, excitedly released by Hamas on the Internet, Palestinian crowds in Gaza gather to watch the execution of fellow Arabs accused of collaboration. They are forced to their knees in the public square and shot dead to thunderous approval: ‘God is the greatest!’ The tumbling, lifeless bodies are recorded on shiny, high-end smartphones (how did they get through the ‘siege’?). In other videos, Hamas brutes casually crush the legs of civilians with blunt tools, breaking bone after bone as the victims writhe and scream on the ground – one for the crime of having been videoed thanking president Trump when he received aid at the American run GHF distribution centre. But these videos are not leaked war crimes, they are public service announcements. Messages to their own society: this is what happens if you cross us.

Would you come out to cheer such activities in Kensington or Westminster? Would you whoop or praise God for this in Didsbury or Moseley? Can you imagine the good people of Stockbridge, Clifton or Cardiff Bay coming out to show their appreciation for such brutality in their streets?

During the pandemic, we in Britain, and many across Europe, rushed to applaud those we regard as heroes. Our instincts, however choreographed, were rooted in something real: admiration for life-saving virtue. It is telling for whom a society chooses to cheer. Gaza chose. Again and again, many cheer the men who burn the future of their own people, destroy the lives of their neighbours with sadistic glee, start wars that devastate their own land – and boast about it.

It is time to talk plainly. Some societies are different. Some values are not only different, they are better. And when a society teaches its children to spit on naked corpses, when it gathers in the streets to exalt murderers, when it builds a culture on death and vengeance, we are not obliged to pretend these are quaint cultural quirks. We are entitled to condemn them. We are right to resist them. Morally, strategically, and civilisationally. And we should support those who do so wholeheartedly, whether in Gaza, Israel, Britain or America.

If we are ever to survive as a people with our own hopes, values, and laws, we must learn again to cheer for the good guys. The only question is: do we still know who they are?

The Spectator - Don’t fear the bogeyman

(personal underlines)

Don’t fear the bogeyman

Britain is beset by a bogeyman. A giant, mystical beast that the public are forever being threatened with. Remember last year when a young Welsh choirboy stabbed three young girls to death at a Taylor Swift-themed dance party in Southport? Long before we were allowed to know the name of the culprit – Axel Rudakubana – we were warned about a much greater menace: a rallying by the ‘far right’. After impromptu protests and some rioting broke out in various cities, we were promised on an hourly basis that the ‘far right’ was mobilising.

Soon there were crowds of Muslim men organising to counter any such threat. Nick Lowles, of the wrongly named ‘anti-racist’ group Hope Not Hate, helped to whip things up by wrongly claiming that a Muslim woman in Middlesbrough had had acid thrown in her face. Even though the report was untrue, the Muslim men who were already starting to tool up clearly saw danger. Soon a ‘list’ was being talked about. A list which ‘anti-fascist’ groups insisted was a set of places across the country where the ‘far right’ was going to march on a particular day. Because of course the ‘far right’ is always ‘on the march’, whereas the far left and Islamists are only ever reacting to this alleged march.

The list – like the acid attack – turned out to be a complete fabrication. Nonetheless, when the big day came, large numbers of people were on the streets waving their ‘Refugees welcome’ banners and other paraphernalia. Most of the media bought into the false narrative, and so after the ‘far-right’ marches that didn’t occur there were many headlines like ‘Britain unites against hate’. They might as well have said ‘Britain unites against the tooth fairy’.

I have observed for some years now that to the extent that the UK does have a far-right problem, it is, happily, a problem of supply and demand. For while there is a huge demand for ‘literal Nazis’ and fascists, there is only ever a tiny supply of them. Certainly no movement large enough to march down the main street in a single city.

Fast-forward another year and the country has still learned nothing. Last Saturday there was talk of an anti-mass-migration rally in London. Ukip (which apparently still exists as a separate party) planned to hold a demonstration in Tower Hamlets. The Met Police blocked the protest on the basis that there would be a ‘realistic prospect of serious disorder’. Tower Hamlets is one of those areas I mentioned last week that used to be called ‘diverse’ but parts of it are pretty homogenous these days. Just homogenous in a different way.

Whatever the rights and wrongs of the police’s decision, it is accepted in the UK that you cannot have a protest against mass migration in a predominantly Muslim area. Presumably because, although Islam is well known to be a religion of peace, there could be some of its adherents who might break every tenet of their faith and its founder’s teachings, and accidentally slip into heresy for a moment to commit acts of violence.

Despite the fact that the Ukip protest was banned, counter-protestors naturally turned up in huge numbers. The Guardian and other left-wing media excitedly talked about – you guessed it – the Battle of Cable Street. ‘History is repeating itself,’ the paper trilled. ‘Eighty-nine years after residents drove Oswald Mosley’s Blackshirts from Tower Hamlets, anti-far right coalition is still vital in borough.’

An observant person might notice that there are several problems with this comparison. Not the least of which is that today there are no Blackshirts. Or are there? Two groups of people gathered to protest against the nonexistent Mosleyites. The first were the usual rag-tag of bearded leftists with ‘Smash the far right’ banners. The second – very much larger in a number – were hundreds of burly Muslim men parading in black with their faces covered. So to the extent that the Blackshirts did return 89 years on, it would seem that this time they came back as Muslims.

The two sets of protestors were not hard to tell apart. In fact they kept themselves separate. The white leftie anti-racists stood meekly to one side with their banners as the black-clad Muslim men marched past in threatening formation. And while Oswald Mosley’s Blackshirts at least tended to show their faces, these modern ones remained firmly masked.

At one point a scene was caught on camera which 89 years from now might well be remembered in its own way. Perhaps one of the Muslim Blackshirts jostled or said something to one of the leftists, but in any case the following exchange was captured on camera. Left-wing anti-racist: ‘There’s no need for that – we’re on the same side, bruv.’ Masked marcher: ‘No we’re not.’And that is about as neat a formation as I can think of to depict where Britain is these days.

The country is whipped up into a frenzy about a phantom ‘far right’ on the march. As a result, the coalition of leftists and Muslims gather to show that it has no place here. The leftists start to notice that the Muslim marchers aren’t all pacifist types, but hey ho, you find your coalitions where you can. And then at some stage it becomes brutally clear what the real hierarchy is.

Will the leftist ‘anti-fascists’ learn anything from this? I would predict not. Will our wider society? I wouldn’t bet on that either. Since the weekend’s protests in east London I have scoured the media to find any politician objecting to the Blackshirts marching in Tower Hamlets again. I guess they are too busy warning about the phantom bogeyman to recognise the highly unsatisfactory state of affairs that is right in front of them.

The Spectator - The catastrophic dumbing down of German education

 

(personal underlines)

The catastrophic dumbing down of German education

German teachers are a privileged species. Most of us enjoy the status of a Beamter, a tenured civil servant. We can be dismissed only after a serious criminal conviction, we are exempt from social insurance contributions, and even our mortgage rates are lower. Such comfort discourages dissent. Yet, after more than 25 years as a pampered Beamter, I find myself overwhelmed, not by the teaching load or the students, but by the accelerating erosion of academic standards.

Having taught English, history and Latin at four different Gymnasien, the equivalent of a grammar school, I have learned that challenging students is frowned upon by both bureaucrats and politicians. Nearly all my colleagues agree that standards have plummeted. A mathematics teacher tells me that sixth-form assignments he set 20 years ago would now be beyond even his best pupils. One thing is certain: the pupils themselves are not to blame.

The decline began in 1964, when philosopher Georg Picht published The German Education Catastrophe, calling for a drastic expansion in the number of university-eligible school-leavers. Until then, only those who graduated from a Gymnasium qualified. Picht’s alarmism found ready ears. In 1960, 7 per cent of pupils left school with such a qualification; today, more than half do.

The inflation of academic credentials accelerated with the 1999 EU Bologna reforms, which dismantled the traditional and rigorous degree structure and replaced it with the Anglo-American model. Only medicine and law escaped. The effect has been the slow death of Germany’s once-superb vocational system. Many small- and medium–sized businesses no longer offer apprenticeships; school-leavers find some comfy course at uni instead. More than 70 German universities offer degrees in gender studies.

As university places were massively expanded, the Gymnasien had to lower their entry thresholds to keep pace with the demand for more and more students. Since 2002, in my own state of North Rhine-Westphalia, parents have had the right to choose their child’s secondary school, regardless of their teachers’ recommendations. Children deemed unready for the Gymnasium are admitted, and once they are enrolled, bureaucratic obstacles prevent them from being moved to a more suitable comprehensive.

The deterioration has been striking in my subjects. Since 2007, students have been allowed to use dictionaries in English exams, discouraging them from memorising vocabulary. That same year, the Zentralabitur – a centralised state exam – replaced teacher–written finals. Previously, each school designed its own papers, tailored to what had been taught. Now, vague, homogenised curricula require little factual knowledge. History was replaced by the nebulous goal of ‘intercultural communicative competence’.

Objective grading once relied on the Fehlerquotient (number of grammatical errors per hundred words). This was derided as ‘too rigid’, replaced by an imprecise points system designed to boost marks. Marks are awarded for trivialities, such as ‘structuring’ a text. Students quickly learn the formula: list a few stylistic devices – enumerations, metaphors, repetitions – and you can be seen to analyse any text. Teaching to the test has replaced teaching to think. Real objectivity would require blind marking, external examiners and anonymised papers – none of which exists.

When I attended Gymnasium in the 1980s, advanced English students were required to study an entire Shakespeare play. Later, this became selected scenes; then scenes from film versions. In 2023, the Bard was dropped entirely, replaced by the study of ‘questions of identity and gender’.

Since 1970, North Rhine-Westphalia has had only eight years of non-leftist control over education. Progressivism permeates every level. Among teachers, Green sympathies are disproportionately high. Of the 17 newspaper articles used in exams between 2020 and 2025, not one came from a conservative source. The Guardian and the New York Times dominate.

Behind all this lies the creed of ‘competence orientation’. Grammar, spelling and factual knowledge are dismissed as obsolete. It is enough to ‘communicate effectively’. Why, then, read Shakespeare? Why learn a soliloquy by heart? In biology and geography, exams no longer test knowledge but the ability to interpret pre-packaged ‘material’ – charts, graphs and snippets of text. A colleague who marks geography papers believes anyone with common sense and patience has a decent chance of passing.

Latin, too, has been softened. Translation from German to Latin is banned as ‘too difficult’. Lessons are increasingly padded with Roman culture and history. Even translation marking has been diluted: for every five untranslated words, a maximum of three errors may be counted.

When the state exam was introduced, most teachers welcomed it because it meant less work. I realised something had gone horribly wrong when I graded a history paper by a gifted student who provided precise dates, facts and definitions. The new state syllabus allowed only limited marks for such content. I only managed to salvage her grade by awarding her full points elsewhere.

Across all subjects, measurable trivia has replaced genuine learning. Multiple choice has supplanted multiple perspectives. Today’s ‘competence orientation’ manufactures compliant consumers who consult Wikipedia or ChatGPT for ready answers. To criticise ‘competence orientation’ is near-heresy; every mainstream party endorses it. It was introduced in my state under a Green minister, continued by a Liberal and remains untouched under a Christian Democrat. For the left, it serves egalitarianism; for Liberals, it produces plentiful and pliant employees. The Christian Democrats’ acquiescence is harder to fathom. But the result of all this is clear enough. In 2011, a student of mine wrote at the end of a Shakespeare exam: ‘Students don’t have to learn any more facts. Studying in this way is boring. Students will die of boredom.’ If only I could have given him full marks.

Reflexão - A razão e a necessidade (Miguel Morgado)

 (sublinhados pessoais)


A razão e a necessidade

O problema é que a Europa está demasiado fraca para se decidir. As suas elites não sabem o que querem porque não sabem o que são, nem o que representam.

No último Conselho Europeu a figura da “cooperação reforçada” foi avançada para contornar um problema político sério. De um lado, a Bélgica opôs-se ao confisco de activos russos em jurisdições europeias para financiar o custo da guerra na Ucrânia. Do outro, uma vez tornada invencível a oposição belga, e optando pelo plano B da emissão de dívida europeia conjunta, Hungria, Eslováquia e Chéquia obtiveram garantias de não vinculação financeira como contrapartida para não fazerem votos formais de oposição. Seja como for, o dia foi importante.

Primeiro, porque as carências financeiras ucranianas ameaçavam a sua capacidade efectiva de combate. Segundo, as oposições internas à cooperação com a Ucrânia em matéria militar vão-se cristalizando. Terceiro, as lideranças da União (Merz, Macron, Tusk, Meloni e mais umas quantas inexistências) perceberam que, no actual contexto geopolítico, uma não-decisão neste Conselho seria um sinal terrível de fraqueza. Quarto, tornou-se patente que as necessidades financeiras da Ucrânia voltarão a agigantar-se. Os 90 mil milhões de euros a ser emprestados agora cobrem apenas as necessidades ucranianas até ao final de 2027. Todos esperamos que a guerra esteja resolvida até lá. Mas já se percebeu que, uma vez concluída a guerra, teremos de fazer arrecadar tremendos recursos financeiros para a reconstrução da Ucrânia, e não serão nem os Americanos, e muito menos os Russos, que aliviarão a Europa desse fardo. Se a guerra prosseguir ou se ela finalmente terminar, a Europa estará sozinha nesse esforço de financiamento.

Contudo, esta crise geopolítica, com incidência na Europa e em vários outros pontos estratégicos do globo, está a pressionar a União para se decidir. O cerco ideológico, militar, diplomático, económico, tecnológico e demográfico ao continente vai-se apertando a cada hora. Os inimigos externos e internos da Europa farejam e denunciam as suas fraquezas todos os dias. O problema é que a Europa está demasiado fraca para se decidir. As suas elites não sabem o que querem porque não sabem o que são, nem o que representam. Há muito tempo decidiram abandonar o que tinham à sua responsabilidade em troca de uma vida paradisíaca no conforto do mundo cosmopolita recheado de belos princípios humanitários em que nem os próprios acreditam, mas têm de repetir acefalamente, e, o que não é de somenos, de contas bancárias agradáveis.

Teria sido melhor que uma União política tivesse deixado as suas unidades nacionais e soberanas sobreviver e vicejar na história. Mas, por vezes, a geopolítica comanda as possibilidades políticas internas. Hoje, a Europa sente-se na posição precária de quem está a meio da ponte. Já retirou demasiadas prerrogativas soberanas aos seus Estados-membros para que estes possam fingir gozar de grande independência. Ao mesmo tempo, a fragilidade geopolítica de cada um dos Estados-membros individualmente considerado revela-se todos os dias um espectáculo penoso.

Porém, a União também ficou aquém da centralização do poder executivo, legislativo e regulatório indispensável para poder agir em bloco à semelhança dos seus competidores geopolíticos. Há umas quantas almas que aplaudiram comovidos a perspectiva de uma nova emissão de dívida. Julgam que a emissão de dívida conjunta é o alfa e o ómega da resolução política. São ainda os ecos da conversa infantil dos anos da crise do Euro sobre o putativo “momento hamiltoniano”, que na altura contou com muitos interlocutores que sabiam pouco de política e nada de história americana. Erro deles. A constituição de uma União política centralizada à escala continental pressupõe muito mais do que isso.

Dizem-nos que a União Europeia tem de ser uma “unidade geopolítica” ou desfiar-se-á em tempos geopolíticos como os nossos. É bem provável. Mas é preciso perceber que um tal salto não geraria as consequências benévolas que dele se esperaria sem que as fracturas sociais cada vez mais expostas das sociedades internas dos Estados-membros sejam atendidas. A política nacional dos Estados-membros está fragmentada e, com pouquíssimas excepções, sofre uma crise de desconfiança e de cepticismo incompatível com grandes ousadias. As lideranças não confiam em si mesmas e partilham em graus variáveis da intoxicação ideológica que fez a Europa duvidar do seu direito de existir como Europa – e não como outra sociedade qualquer – no mundo.

Há muita sabedoria na cabeça de quem disse que “o que não te induz a razão, induz-te a necessidade”. Mas a resposta à “necessidade” tem sempre uma amplitude angustiante de criatividade e qualidade. Nos próximos 10 anos teremos de tomar decisões políticas determinantes. Convém que tanto os governantes como os povos europeus estejam à altura do que lhes vai ser exigido.

terça-feira, 23 de dezembro de 2025

Reflexão - Apocalipse, ainda não (Diogo Quintela)

 (sublinhados meus)..afinal...

Apocalipse, ainda não

Se há tempo para adiar a única solução que afasta o perigo existencial, é porque afinal a solução não é única e o perigo não é assim tão existencial. Como se terá processado essa descoberta?

A 21 de Fevereiro de 2023, a comissária europeia Kaja Kallas, então primeira-ministra da Estónia, declarou que “a emergência climática é um risco para a paz” e que “não há dúvida que as alterações climáticas estão a tornar o mundo um lugar mais perigoso”.

No dia 14 de Maio do mesmo ano, o comissário Michael McGrath, na altura membro do Governo irlandês, afirmou que “a emergência climática é o maior desafio enfrentado pela humanidade”.

Também em 2020, a 21 de Janeiro, a comissária Teresa Ribera, à época vice-presidente do Governo espanhol, proclamou a “emergência climática” e a necessidade de ir “muito mais depressa” na prossecução de políticas de transição energética.

Em Março desse ano, Ursula von der Leyen disse: “Hoje, as emissões globais continuam a subir. Isso tem de mudar urgentemente”. Já este ano, no Fórum de Davos, a Presidente da Comissão avisou que “o mundo está numa corrida contra o tempo” para evitar catástrofes climáticas.

Logo em 2019, Frans Timmermans (então Primeiro Vice-Presidente da Comissão Europeia) alertava para o facto de o clima ser “um tema existencial para a Europa e para o mundo. Não temos um momento a perder na luta contra as alterações climáticas”.

O nosso António Costa, ainda como Primeiro-Ministro de Portugal, disse em 2023 que “O planeta provavelmente pode sobreviver à humanidade. Mas não há uma ‘Humanidade B’. O que sabemos com certeza é que a humanidade não sobreviverá a si própria”. E em Novembro deste ano, já Presidente do Conselho Europeu, Costa advertiu: “A janela de oportunidade para agirmos e evitarmos impactos irreversíveis sobre a humanidade e a natureza está a fechar-se rapidamente. A ameaça existencial representada pelas alterações climáticas sustenta precisamente o compromisso inabalável da União Europeia com o Acordo de Paris”. E prometeu: “Mantemos plena dedicação à sua ambição e ao seu espírito multilateral. E faremos tudo o que estiver ao nosso alcance para manter o objetivo de limitar o aquecimento global a 1,5°C acima dos níveis pré-industriais”.

Isto é a sério, malta. Enfrentamos uma “emergência”, uma “ameaça existencial”, as medidas são “urgentes”, estamos numa “corrida contra o tempo” e “não há um momento a perder”, porque a “janela de oportunidade está a fechar-se rapidamente” e “não há humanidade B”. Por isso vai-se fazer “tudo que estiver ao alcance”. Bem sei que é costume ouvir este discurso todos os dias, em vários sítios. Mas estas tomadas de posição são feitas por quem tem poder na Europa, quem consegue mesmo salvar a humanidade da extinção iminente e quem se comprometeu a fazê-lo, custe o que custar. Graças a Deus, os mais altos dirigentes da União Europeia há muito que sabem do cataclismo que nos ameaça e têm preconizado acção cabal, drástica e expedita, que implica a proibição do uso de combustíveis fósseis imediatamente. Agora! Já! Para ontem!

Entretanto, na semana passada, a Comissão Europeia recuou e, afinal, ainda vai ser possível comprar um carro a gasolina depois de 2035.

Não se percebe. Se a humanidade está condenada, a não ser que paremos imediatamente de queimar combustíveis fósseis, que sentido faz continuar a queimar combustíveis fósseis? É suicídio. Quando um médico diz a um paciente: “O senhor nunca mais pode tocar em álcool. A próxima bebida que tomar vai matá-lo”, a resposta não pode ser: “Que maçada. Vou então parar. Deixe só esvaziar a adega que acumulei nos últimos anos e depois entro logo em abstinência”. Que grande borrada. Pelos vistos, os carros eléctricos, quando metem a marcha-atrás, em vez de pipi, fazem pupu.

É como se na fita “Armageddon”, em que um meteorito se prepara para destruir a Terra, o Bruce Willis aceitasse a missão de ir lá acima dinamitar o gargantuesco calhau, mas pedisse para adiar uma semana, pois já tinha férias pagas num resort all inclusive em Cancun e a tarifa era não-reembolsável.

Portanto, se há tempo para adiar a única solução que afasta o perigo existencial, é porque afinal a solução não é única e o perigo não é assim tão existencial. Como se terá processado essa descoberta?

O meu palpite é que alguém na União Europeia pegou na sua calculadora a energia solar e fez as contas. Teve de esperar alguns dias até ter pilha suficiente (nesta altura do ano não há muitas horas de sol em Bruxelas), mas conseguiu efectuar as operações necessárias para perceber que: as alterações climáticas não são assim tão graves; não exigem acção urgente; as actividades humanas não são a principal influência nas alterações climáticas; as medidas que tomamos não têm grande impacto num sistema tão complexo como o clima; algumas medidas acarretam custos que prejudicam mais as pessoas do que os efeitos das próprias alterações; algumas medidas afectam a capacidade para mitigar e combater os efeitos das alterações climáticas (ou de fenómenos climáticos que nem sequer estão alterados, se limitam a continuar a ser o que sempre foram).

Munidos dessas informações, concluíram que, como afinal não está iminente a nossa destruição e amanhã ainda cá estamos, se calhar convém não rebentar com a economia. Até porque, como parte da transição energética implica uma electrificação geral da sociedade, os aumentos de produção de energia para abastecer transportes, indústria, servers para clouds, IA e outras modernices, não vão ser conseguidos à custa de fontes intermitentes. Junte-se a isso a impreparação das redes (como se viu no recente apagão), a pouca capacidade das baterias e a intransigência das populações em ter minas de lítio ou ventoinhas gigantes na sua terra, e não é só nos carros que a UE vai ter de recuar.

A outra hipótese é isto não ter sido uma descoberta. Não foi incompetência e ideologia, juntamente com o fanatismo de uma seita milenarista que apregoa o fim do mundo a quem não se penitencia comprando um Tesla e só tomando banho dia sim, dia não. A UE já sabia, mas foi sonsa e alinhou com este pânico moral histérico para ter ganhos políticos. Realmente, a ameaça de colapso climático dá muito jeito. Serve para justificar medidas onerosas e impopulares que os governos queiram tomar e, ao mesmo tempo, fornece boas desculpas para quando os governos não agiram para evitar tragédias. “É verdade que não limpámos as sarjetas, mas esta tempestade, por causa das alterações climáticas, foi muito mais tempestuosa que o costume. Não havia nada a fazer”.

Felizmente, para nos safarmos desta incúria e podermos fugir numa emergência das verdadeiras, ainda vamos ter fiáveis carros a diesel por mais alguns anos.

The Spectator - How the occult captured the modern mind

 (personal underlines)


How the occult captured the modern mind

The British science-fiction writer Arthur C. Clarke, author of 2001: A Space Odyssey, proposed a ‘law of science’ in 1968: ‘Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.’

Clarke’s proposition had a quality of rightness, of stating the obvious with sparkling clarity, that propelled it into dictionaries of quotations. The timing was perfect: Concorde would soon be flying over rock festivals packed with hippies obsessed with ‘magick’. Naturally Clarke’s readers understood the difference between aerodynamics and sky gods. But African tribesmen gawping at an early aeroplane, or Pacific Islanders watching an atomic explosion, could only conclude that they were witnessing a supernatural event: for them, a scientific explanation was literally inconceivable. And one day scientists might perform feats so incredible that even educated westerners would fall back on religion or the occult.

More than half a century later, perhaps that day has arrived. The technology of artificial intelligence is now so advanced that even the people developing it are flirting with magical thinking and supernatural fantasies. Silicon Valley entrepreneurs are talking in riddles that invest computers with occult significance. They are exploiting the ambiguity of the concept of artificial intelligence to revive the decades-old debate about whether AI can develop a mind of its own (a philosophical rabbit hole from which no one emerges with satisfying conclusions).

Big Tech bosses and computer engineers are perfectly capable of distinguishing between algorithms and magic. But many of them choose not to. We’re living in strange times, weirder than the late 1960s. Digitally driven belief in the paranormal has never been so variegated, gullible – or profitable.

Peter Thiel, the billionaire co-founder of PayPal, is busy turning this gullibility into gold with his lectures on ‘the Antichrist’, a murky concept derived from strands of apocalyptic Bible prophecy and 20th–century conspiracy theories about a global elite. But his fantasies are pitched at a luxury market of investors who are convinced that their fellow global elitists are plotting to handicap or hijack the potential of AI to transform the world. How? That’s to be decided – and then revealed to the owners of private jets at an invitation-only seminar.

Further down the food chain, technology, old-style magic and apocalyptic prophecies are combining in chaotic patterns. The number of self-identifying witches in the United States has now overtaken the number of Presbyterians, and almost all of them employ digital tools to refine their magic. They use ChatGPT and other large language models to write spells tailored to rival traditions.

These include Wicca, a pantomime of covens and pentacles invented in the 1940s by the retired English civil servant Gerald Gardner; Astral Magery, whose mathematical formulae are supposed to harness primordial forces; and Chaos Magic, a pop-flavoured postmodern take on the occult that treats beliefs as mere tools for releasing psychic energy. Then there are versions of Shamanism, Voodoo and Santeria adopted by liberal western neo-pagans who need a magic formula to banish suspicions of ‘cultural appropriation’.

That’s where AI comes in handy. ‘Sometimes we don’t know what to say and need a little inspiration,’ explains Dave Linabury, a veteran occult blogger and illustrator from Detroit known as ‘Davezilla’. ChatGPT will craft an incantation in the style of a Yoruba magician or the British occultist and sex guru Aleister Crowley, while AI will conjure up a Wiccan goddess. It’s the illustrations, incidentally, that sow discord among today’s witches: occult ‘content creators’ are always accusing each other of infringing copyright or using AI to fake magical images.

Davezilla is an amiable and witty fellow who might sport the bushy beard and neat hairstyle of the new breed of American traditionalist Catholic, but is in fact very witchy. To repeat, these are weird times. In a YouTube discussion with fellow magician Ivy Corvus, he explains that AI is just a tool for witches: he compares it with the huge market for astrology apps that calculate planetary positions. But then he lurches into a description of how, if you leave chatbots talking to each other for long enough, they’ll start ‘holding meditation sessions, feeling the perfect stillness’, and even he thinks that is spooky. ‘The dead and other spiritual entities long ago figured out how to get into televisions, radios, static… There’s no reason they can’t infiltrate the internet.’

This is where Davezilla’s suspicions coincide with those of his sworn enemies: right-wing Christians. A month ago the maverick conservative commentator Tucker Carlson devoted an episode of his YouTube podcast to ‘The Occult, Kabbalah, the Antichrist’s Newest Manifestation, and How to Avoid the Mark of the Beast’. So far it has notched up 2.6 million views; rarely can so many people have been treated to such a lavish smorgasbord of conspiracy theories in just under two hours. Carlson’s interviewee, Conrad Flynn, is an authority on rock music and the occult. Now he is branching into ‘secret histories in entertainment, literature, politics and tech’.

The discussion was one of the oddest ever hosted by Carlson, whose manic laugh unintentionally highlighted the demonic subject matter. Let’s just consider the tech component, because that’s where AI met the Antichrist. Flynn asked whether technology was creating artificial intelligence or ‘giving a body to a pre-existing intelligence that previously wasn’t incarnated in the physical world’. Carlson: ‘Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha. I know what I think.’ Flynn followed this with a dizzying sequence of non-sequiturs, derived from the writings of the unhinged far-right British philosopher Nick Land, in which a demon summoned by Elizabeth I’s court magician John Dee travelled back to ancient Babylon and poisoned Jewish minds with the Kabbalah. This dark magic eventually fashioned AI and will soon awaken the Beast of Revelation. Carlson: ‘Was there any effort during the US occupation [of Iraq] to excavate Babylon? I always wondered that.’

Probably quite a few witches have wondered the same thing, for different reasons but with the same enthusiasm for bogus history and science. Sociologists talk of a ‘cultic milieu’ in which the radical right and radical left swap objectively false claims. In the late 20th century the apocalyptic prophecies of Christian fundamentalists found their way into bookstores where New Agers sipped herbal tea to the tinkling of wind chimes. Today, pipe-smoking Catholic and evangelical podcasters contemplate the coming techno-apocalypse while versions of this fantasy circulate among genderqueer magic-workers who sit comfortably on the far left of the Democratic party.

What is also surprising is that computer scientists are dabbling in the cultic milieu. Some are so intoxicated by the prospect of AI abolishing poverty – or lighting an accidental nuclear holocaust – that they sound like the apostles of a new apocalyptic religion. Bear in mind that Silicon Valley occupies the corner of the US where Christianity is weakest and toxic cults have flourished since the 1960s. Most employees of tech corporations grew up without religion; many have also been force-fed eastern mysticism by bosses determined to cultivate ‘mindfulness’ among the workforce.

But perhaps the most significant factor is that, like hundreds of millions of people from the ages of 16 to 60, the new prophets of doom and utopia, together with the hordes of digital witches, have imbibed a popular culture saturated in fantasy fiction, movies and video games. (Google ‘schools of magic’ and the AI overview will come up with a list borrowed from Dungeons & Dragons.) Also, the younger they are, the more likely they are to have been brainwashed by a gender ideology whose claim that humans can change biological sex invokes preposterous magic.

Presumably, like most occult ideas, this one will eventually pass out of fashion. But, in the meantime, the rest of us have to endure the fake jollity of an ever–lengthening season of woke Halloween, demonstrating that any sufficiently advanced cultic fad is indistinguishable from hell.

Reflexão (LBC) - Portugal (e Bruxelas) no seu melhor

 De quem é a responsabilidade de nada se ter previsto?






De quem será a responsabilidade de se ter chegado a este ponto?






De quem será a responsabilidade quando o desastre chegar na Nazaré?







De quem é a responsabilidade de se andar sempre a mudar os referenciais?

















The Spectator - Bring on the sexy builders

 (personal underlines)


Bring on the sexy builders

AI infrastructure needs men who can make and fix things

(Getty)

The premium on a good tradesman remains extremely high. Is AI going to come and paint your walls or hang your pictures? No, and the unsung heroes of the AI age are still those who are good with their hands.

Indeed OpenAI, the US industry giant, has urgently called for a massive ramping up in skilled labour. It declared: ‘The country will need many more electricians, mechanics, metal and ironworkers, carpenters, plumbers, and other construction trade workers than we currently have.’ Sounds good to me. Meanwhile Larry Fink, the CEO of BlackRock, the world’s largest asset manager, said America needs for 500,000 electricians. Yes please! No doubt Britain is going to need just as many if we’re to join the AI revolution. 

And I’ve recently suffered a slew of home disasters included an infestation of moths in my cupboards; a broken boiler valve; and the onset of strobe-esque flickering in all my lights. I was reminded of one of the other major advantages to boosting Mr Fixits’ numbers: they are the most attractive men around.

There is no terrain more depressing than app dating. Spending an hour on one makes the skilled manual labourer starts to look very attractive indeed – and that’s before you see his muscles bulge under his scrappy T-shirt. So while the tech world wants more manual labourers to build their machinery, I want more of them out of a desire to perv.

Might this type of worker actually be getting more, rather than less, sexy? I wonder. I haven’t seen an aged plumber or a grunting handyman for a while. By contrast, the ones I have encountered of late have all been under 40, tall and fit. They’ve been polite, the English-born ones among them sporting charming accents of the actual working class. The pest men, who had once solved a bed-bugs problem for a friend, were perhaps the most beguiling. They were a pair of skinny, intelligent-faced brothers who were in business with their father and lived somewhere like Enfield or Harrow. As they unloaded their lethal chemicals, they happily told me how they deal with everything from pigeons to rats, as well as the kinds of bugs and insects that would make me collapse in horror. They were efficient, friendly and happy with their lot. They were probably earning a very handsome salary, and well they should.

The boilermen, or ‘heating engineers’ as they call themselves, I have known for years. They’re a couple of fit Asian men, soft-spoken, endlessly patient both on the phone and in person, prone only to the odd technical slip-up. They’re family men, so the vibe is less flirty, but I still feel that sense of grateful relief on seeing them walk through to the boiler, bulging toolbox in hand.

And then there is the pair of Greeks who have been dealing with the lighting situation. First Klay, more of a baby-faced sort; and then his chum Claudio, sent to do the major work. Claudio is downright gorgeous and tattooed. But with blokes like this, it’s not about inane boring small talk. Or bland descriptions of non-work. It’s about ladders, tools and parts. Admittedly, these aren’t dates, where perhaps they might unleash boring small talk over Pinot. So I am more than happy to keep them in the workmen zone, where I can really enjoy their masculine energy.

I haven’t mentioned the characterful late-thirties Bulgarian appliances guru who comes, sometimes with his ancient Irish boss (they’re based in Kilburn), and sorts my dishwasher and washing machine like they’re naughty teens. This is because the pair, while impressive and friendly, lack sex appeal. But, having seen the qualities of problem-solving and dexterity displayed by the Bulgarian on a number of occasions, I’d be more willing to consider him than I would any number of dead-eyed, digital-nomad app men.

All in all, a resurgence of manual fixers-and-builders-of-things is welcome. If those leading the AI charge find themselves the unlikely champions of hot man who can fix things, then – in the absence of finding AI particularly exciting – that’s something we can agree on.