domingo, 12 de julho de 2026

Observador - Culpar o país pelo falhanço do PS em Almada? Não, obrigado

 


(sublinhados pessoais)


Culpar o país pelo falhanço do PS em Almada? Não, obrigado

A falta de água em Almada não é um exemplo do falhanço do país. O país fez progressos visíveis no abastecimento de água potável. O que falhou em Almada foi um poder municipal abaixo de medíocre

É ponto assente: quando o PS está no governo e falha a culpa é do mundo. Já quando o PS falha à escala local a culpa é do país. E assim, nos últimos dias e perante o espectáculo AdisAbebiano de Almada sem água, lá surgiu a explicação do falhanço do país no seu todo para explicar o falhanço particular do PS em Almada. Ora o que falhou em Almada foi um poder municipal abaixo de medíocre mas exímio no domínio da linguagem do bondadismo progressista. (Não quero dizer que à direita sejam mais competentes, simplesmente não podem falhar tanto e por tanto tempo porque, felizmente para o país, não estão abençoados pelo diáfano manto do porreirismo progressista de que beneficia a esquerda ex-caviar agora woke).

O que é o bondadismo progressista? Veja-se a capa da última revista editada pelo município de Almada cuja directora é Inês de Medeiros. Data de Abril deste ano e nela a presidente, directora e entrevistada Inês de Medeiros declara numa espécie de megalomania planetária “Almada é um foco de humanidade num mundo cada vez mais desumano”.

Por essa altura, a direcção do município não ignorava que era responsável pela baixíssima renovação da rede (uma das baixas, senão a mais baixa do país); pelas perdas da rede que se contam entre as mais altas do país; pelo laxismo em relação às captações ilegais das piscinas e das explorações agroindustriais; pela proliferação das habitações clandestinas; pela desatenção aos problemas com os furos que ficam em Corroios e que motivaram uma querela em tribunal com o Seixal. Também não desconhecia o executivo almadense que o número de habitantes aumentara ao longo dos anos; que desde há mais de sessenta anos os portugueses procuram as praias da Caparica e que é no Verão que os portugueses vão para a praia. Mas acompanhando as declarações do incrível executivo almadense de que esta publicação é um exemplo, o abastecimento de água não era de modo algum uma preocupação ou sequer uma prioridade.

Na página em que se detalham as prioridades orçamentais para este ano de 2026 (e note-se que no município de Almada, tal como acontece nos restantes, dinheiro não falta), constam a habitação, acessos às praias, uma loja do cidadão e até um centro de recolha animal. Mas sobre água nada. Na longa entrevista feita a Inês de Medeiros não há referências à água e o próprio vereador Luís Palma, que detém a presidência do Conselho de Administração dos Serviços Municipalizados de Água e Saneamento de Almada (SMAS), prefere falar da “ofensiva em curso de destruição do Serviço Nacional de Saúde” em vez de informar sobre aquilo que os SMAS iriam fazer para melhorar o seu serviço em Almada. Aliás as únicas referências a água e aos SMAS nesta publicação encontram-se numa pequena notícia que dá conta da contratação de mais 16 trabalhadores para esse serviço em Janeiro deste ano. A água é um assunto praticamente omisso nestas comunicações, à excepção da revista de Outubro de 2022 onde Inês de Medeiros, depois de citar uma daquelas platitudes de Guterres — “O valor da água é profundo e complexo. Não há nenhum aspeto do desenvolvimento sustentável que não dependa fundamentalmente dela” —, afirma que Almada é um “concelho assente sobre uma reserva quase inesgotável de água de grande qualidade”. Seguem-se páginas e páginas com explicações de um sistema perfeito com ilustrações de reservatórios, torneiras de seccionamento, colectores e ramais, tudo inevitavelmente com muito azul.

Entretanto no subsolo de Almada a água perdia-se numa rede que não se renovava e pontos de acesso não contabilizados que proliferavam. Acreditando na propaganda, Almada vivia no melhor dos mundos possíveis no que à rede de distribuição de água potável dizia respeito. Estava-se em 2022. A realidade era bem diferente e piorou desde então.

O que está a acontecer neste Verão de 2026 é precisamente um choque entre a realidade e a propaganda naquele município e também entre o argumentário da esquerda e a realidade no país: como bem sabem aqueles que não vivem em Almada, e que quando abrem a torneira vêem água correr, é mentira que Portugal não tenha sido capaz de fazer o necessário neste assunto. Em 2026, os portugueses têm, na sua esmagadora maioria, acesso a água de qualidade e em quantidade. Não são assim tão longínquos os tempos em que nas casas portuguesas existiam sempre uns garrafões de reserva para aqueles dias em que a água faltava ou uns recipientes para a ir buscar ao chafariz mais próximo. Ou em que beber água da torneira não era opção no Algarve. Existem obviamente falhas pontuais provocadas por cheias, rupturas na rede, obras… mas são isso mesmo: pontuais.

O que agora está a acontecer em Almada nada tem a ver com o Portugal de 2026 mas sim com esse país de há algumas décadas, em que nem sequer fomos poupados à discussão paleolítica sobre a “água de Almada” e “a água do Seixal” (como se o aquífero tivesse muros a separá-las!) entre dois autarcas, Inês de Medeiros e Paulo Silva, que nunca foram capazes de avançar para uma gestão integrada do aquífero, quer entre eles, quer com os outros autarcas que dependem deste aquífero para o abastecimento dos seus munícipes.

A falta de água em Almada não é um exemplo do falhanço do país, como alguns socialistas nos querem fazer acreditar. O país fez progressos visíveis no abastecimento de água potável. O que falhou em Almada foi o pensamento mágico socialista.


sábado, 11 de julho de 2026

The Spectator - Why Celebration Day isn’t nonsense

 


(personal underlines)

Why Celebration Day isn’t nonsense

After the tears, surely we shouldn’t mentally seal the beloved in a box and bury them

(iStock)

Today is Celebration Day when we are asked to remember the people we’ve loved and lost. My first reaction to the idea, was a groan. Really? Who needs another dedicated day? There are already more of them than there are days in the year, so some have to share. I’ve never taken any notice of Mothers’ Day, or Fathers’ Day, (and neither, sadly, have my children), let alone Potato Day, Upcycling (what’s that?) Day, Black Cow Day, or International Pisco Sour Day. There’s even a Love Conquers All Day, for heaven’s sake.  

But I’ve come round. When someone important to us, who inspired or helped us, or whom we greatly loved, dies, we mourn them painfully for a period – and then stop talking about them altogether. Of course, that period of uncontrollable sudden tears and night-time misery, and later the weeks of joylessness, must be gone through. But after the tears, surely we shouldn’t mentally seal the beloved in a box and bury them. There’s relief and happiness in talking about them, in sharing old stories, laughing again at their idiosyncrasies, remembering why we loved them. It keeps them alive to us. But in our modern crammed lives we don’t often do that, and maybe Celebration Day will remind us that it is a fun thing to do. 

Celebration Day is a largely spontaneous grass-roots movement, with no commercial aspect, no fundraising target, no political or religious connotations and no rules or regulations. Started a few years ago, it has grown in many directions. People celebrate in all sorts of ways, maybe gathering to watch their loved one’s favourite film, walk a favourite path, play a favourite board game, or just meet in the pub to raise a glass to absent friends. Judi Dench famously plants trees in remembrance and talks to both the trees and the departed friends they were planted for.  

I do it with food of course. I never make my brother James’s Red Dragon Pie (a red bean casserole so called because it encouraged his children to eat it) without thinking of him. If I’m with any of his family it stimulates memories and laughter, and also his widow’s affectionate jibe that it wasn’t his recipe anyway but hers.  

Jamie was the only person who would tick me off if I got too pleased with myself, like the time I asked my secretary to get him on the phone but then kept him waiting while I finished another call. He was the only person I wanted to speak to when newly widowed.  I’d sometimes ring him at 7 pm, the time my husband and I would unfailingly quit working and meet for a drink on the terrace or in the sitting room, or, if apart, would call each other. ‘Ah’, Jamie would say, ‘It must be 7 pm. Time for a bit of brotherly love?’

Because I’m so old there are a lot of people I miss. There was an exacting Cordon Bleu teacher who insisted we chop parsley to a fine dust and wash the spinach seven times in icy water (both edicts long ignored) and instilled in me a love of cooking and respect for the best ingredients. And then there was Sir Peter Parker, my husband’s best friend and my business mentor: he proposed me for Businesswoman of the Year ten years in a row before I got it, he encouraged me to get involved with the RSA (Royal Society of Arts) which I ended up chairing, he critiqued my speeches and generally pushed me.  

So maybe making a deliberate decision to think about those lost friends, to talk about them or generally honour and celebrate them is a good idea. And having a national day to jog us to do that, seems to be working. Like Remembrance Day, but joyful.  

The Spectator - Angleterre : le vote ethnique, avenir de l’Europe ?

 

(soulignés personnels)

Angleterre : le vote ethnique, avenir de l’Europe ?


De Bradford aux banlieues françaises, la démocratie pourrait bien devenir un champ de bataille entre blocs ethno-culturels… Analyse de Balbino Katz.
Polémia

1. Bradford : un laboratoire de la recomposition ethnique du vote britannique
2. De la démocratie multiculturelle à la fragmentation politique européenne

Bradford : un laboratoire de la recomposition ethnique du vote britannique

L’un des phénomènes politiques les plus intéressants des élections locales anglaises est paradoxalement celui dont parlent le moins les grands médias : la montée du vote ethnique comme facteur structurant de la vie démocratique britannique.

Le chroniqueur Richard North, observateur minutieux des réalités locales anglaises, vient d’en fournir une illustration particulièrement éclairante à travers l’analyse des résultats municipaux dans le Yorkshire de l’Ouest, notamment à Bradford et Kirklees. Son constat est brutal : dans certaines régions du Royaume-Uni, les anciennes divisions politiques entre travaillistes, conservateurs ou libéraux s’effacent progressivement derrière des logiques communautaires et ethniques beaucoup plus profondes.

Le cas de Bradford est emblématique.

Ville industrielle longtemps dominée par le Labour, Bradford a connu lors des dernières élections un bouleversement spectaculaire. Le Parti travailliste, qui contrôlait le conseil municipal depuis douze ans, s’est effondré, passant de quarante-sept sièges à dix-sept seulement. Reform UK, le parti de Nigel Farage, devient la première force municipale avec vingt-neuf sièges. Les conservateurs, contrairement à la tendance nationale, progressent eux aussi légèrement et atteignent dix-huit sièges.

Mais le phénomène essentiel n’est pas là.

Ce qui frappe Richard North est l’existence désormais assumée d’un vote communautaire pakistano-kashmiri extrêmement discipliné, indépendamment des étiquettes partisanes.

Dans plusieurs wards de Bradford à majorité musulmane, les résultats montrent une quasi-disparition électorale des Britanniques autochtones. Dans le quartier de City, sur dix-huit candidats, quatorze étaient d’origine pakistano-kashmirie. Les douze premiers au classement final appartenaient tous à ce même groupe ethnique. Les candidats britanniques blancs, y compris ceux de Reform UK, plafonnèrent autour de un pour cent des voix.

Même logique à Manningham, surnommé localement « Mecca Central ». Sur seize candidats, neuf appartenaient au même groupe communautaire et huit terminèrent en tête. Les candidats britanniques autochtones disparaissent littéralement du paysage électoral.

À Little Horton, même phénomène : les cinq premiers candidats élus étaient tous issus de la diaspora pakistano-kashmirie.

L’aspect le plus intéressant de l’analyse de North est cependant ailleurs.

Il observe que le vote ethnique n’est plus désormais l’apanage des seules minorités immigrées. Face à cette consolidation communautaire musulmane, un réflexe identitaire britannique autochtone apparaît à son tour. Reform UK prospère précisément dans les quartiers « frontières », ces zones encore majoritairement anglaises mais situées à proximité immédiate de quartiers musulmans en expansion démographique.

Dans Wibsey and Odsal, Reform réalise ainsi un « clean sweep » en remportant les trois sièges du ward avec des candidats blancs britanniques, balayant notamment des élus travaillistes d’origine pakistanaise.

Richard North décrit même certaines scènes avec une ironie désabusée. Le candidat conservateur Hassan Butt transforma ainsi le parking d’un pub local en rassemblement communautaire rempli d’hommes en longues tuniques blanches scandant des slogans en ourdou au rythme des tambours traditionnels dholak. Résultat : deux pour cent des voix.

Le plus remarquable est sans doute cette phrase de North : « À Bradford, il n’existe plus réellement de politique gauche-droite. Il existe désormais une politique britannique blanche et une politique de la diaspora pakistanaise. »

De la démocratie multiculturelle à la fragmentation politique européenne

Cette évolution est capitale car elle invalide toute la fiction idéologique du multiculturalisme européen. Les sociétés multiculturelles ne produisent pas spontanément des citoyens déracinés votant selon des abstractions économiques ou morales universelles. Elles tendent au contraire à recréer des blocs communautaires votant selon des intérêts civilisationnels implicites.

Et ce phénomène n’est évidemment pas propre à l’Angleterre.

La France connaît une évolution très similaire, même si la presse française continue à éviter soigneusement toute analyse sérieuse de la dimension ethnique du vote.

Dans de nombreuses circonscriptions urbaines françaises, La France insoumise fonctionne désormais comme l’expression politique privilégiée du vote musulman des banlieues. Les ambiguïtés permanentes sur l’islamisme, l’obsession palestinienne, les campagnes ciblées dans les quartiers immigrés ou les investitures communautaires ne relèvent plus du hasard mais d’une stratégie électorale parfaitement rationnelle.

Le phénomène va même plus loin.

Les candidats blancs de La France insoumise ou des Verts découvrent progressivement qu’ils deviennent eux-mêmes interchangeables dans les territoires qu’ils ont contribué à transformer démographiquement. Dans plusieurs villes, les nouvelles clientèles électorales exigent désormais leurs propres représentants. Autrement dit, les militants progressistes blancs expérimentent à leur tour une forme de « Grand Remplacement » politique interne.

Ce processus était parfaitement prévisible.

Une démocratie multiculturelle finit mécaniquement par produire des comportements électoraux multiculturels. Les appartenances religieuses, ethniques ou civilisationnelles réapparaissent alors comme des facteurs politiques majeurs, particulièrement lorsque les transformations démographiques deviennent massives.

Les élites européennes ont longtemps cru qu’il suffisait d’invoquer les « valeurs républicaines » pour dissoudre les appartenances historiques. Elles découvrent aujourd’hui exactement l’inverse : plus les sociétés deviennent fragmentées, plus les réflexes communautaires se renforcent.

Et l’autre conséquence majeure apparaît désormais clairement en Angleterre : l’instabilité institutionnelle.

Malgré sa percée spectaculaire, Reform UK ne dispose pas d’une majorité suffisante pour gouverner Bradford. Les conservateurs hésitent à s’allier à Farage. Les coalitions deviennent fragiles ou impossibles. Les conseils municipaux entrent dans des situations de « no overall control », sans majorité claire ni cohésion politique durable.

Autrement dit, la fragmentation ethnique produit progressivement une fragmentation du système démocratique lui-même.

Le cas britannique mérite donc d’être observé avec attention. Non parce qu’il constituerait une exception exotique, mais précisément parce qu’il annonce probablement l’évolution future de nombreuses démocraties européennes.

Bradford n’est pas une anomalie. Bradford est peut-être simplement l’avant-garde.

Balbino Katz  – via Breizh-Info
01/06/2026

The Spectator - Will the Iran deal destroy J.D. Vance?

 

(personal underlines)

Will the Iran deal destroy J.D. Vance?

When it comes to foreign policy, Donald Trump is neither hawk nor dove. He’s a dealmaker who plays differing sides off each other. In so doing, he ends up disappointing warmongers and peaceniks in equal measure.

On 28 February, when he launched Operation Epic Fury, Trump’s more dovish supporters felt betrayed. The president who had campaigned against regime-change wars began a new conflict by channelling George W. Bush. ‘To the great, proud people of Iran I say tonight that the hour of your freedom is at hand,’ he said. Many America Firsters, including former Congresswoman Marjorie Taylor Greene and media star Tucker Carlson, accused Trump of sabotaging his movement and his presidency by fighting a war for Israel that would hurt America’s interests, cost thousands of lives and plunge the world economy into recession. Joe Kent, the counter-terrorism director, quit in disgust. Tulsi Gabbard, his Director of National Intelligence, resigned soon after.

Now, after four months of missiles and strategic muddle, Trump has struck an initial peace agreement with the Iranians and it is the War Party’s turn to feel aggrieved. Insider Washington this week has been buzzing with rumours that members of the President’s inner circle – including CIA director John Ratcliffe and Defence Secretary Pete Hegseth – ‘may pay a personal price’ for opposing the deal.

This Friday, in Switzerland, barring a late blow-up, Vice-President J.D. Vance will sign the Memorandum of Understanding (MOU) between the US and Iran. Both sides will agree to end the war on all fronts, including specifically Lebanon – meaning Israel must stop its attacks on Hezbollah, Iran’s proxy. America will end its sanctions on Iran and authorise a $300 billion fund for post-conflict reconstruction, made up from Tehran’s frozen money and aid contributions from Gulf states. In return, Iran will agree to re-open the Strait of Hormuz and promise never to build a nuclear weapon.

There will be 60 days for ‘technical negotiations’ as to how that all might work and, crucially, what exactly will happen to ‘the dust’ – Iran’s enriched uranium.

But Marc Thiessen, the influential former Bush speechwriter, has already described the MOU as ‘a complete disaster’. And Mark Levin, the Fox News host who is close to the President, has been clashing with pro-deal voices on social media.

The script has flipped. In March, opponents of the war were accused of cowardice and disloyalty. This week, it’s the peace-sceptics being called ‘Panicans’. Four months ago, Senator Lindsey Graham said Trump was ‘a modern-day Roosevelt and Churchill’ for taking on the Great Hitler that is Iran. Today, Israeli officials are calling the President ‘Chamberlain’ for having appeased the evil ayatollahs. One source close to Benjamin Netanyahu even branded Trump a ‘loser’ and Israeli officials insist they will not accept any deal that allows the Islamic Republic to survive or hampers their ability to conduct strikes in Lebanon.

Congressional Republicans are also keen to express their concern that the Iran agreement might end up being weaker than Barack Obama’s JCPOA arrangement, which Trump tore up in his first term. Rather than blaming Trump for a bad deal, his pro-Israel supporters will tie its shortcomings to Vance, a well-known anti-interventionist. Some are already calling the MOU ‘the Vance deal’. On Fox this week, one pundit characterised the administration’s approach as ‘Hillbilly Obama’ – a not-so-subtle reference to the title of the Vice-President’s memoir.

Both Vance and Secretary of State Marco Rubio, though keen to show their commitment to Trump’s agenda, have tried to distance themselves from his unpopular war and its ramifications on their presidential ambitions. The difference is that Rubio has privately expressed reservations about negotiating with the Iranians, whereas Vance has become the frontman of the ongoing peace process. This week, he has appeared on almost every American news channel, selling the MOU as Iran’s last chance to come in from the diplomatic cold.

If the deal collapses, or is widely seen as a humiliation for America, Vance will be dismissed as a foreign-policy dunce. It’s notable that the odds on him becoming the next Republican presidential nominee are lengthening, while Rubio’s have shortened. Sources close to Vance have let it be known he is now considering not running in 2028.

Yet the key negotiators of this fragile peace have been Trump’s son-in-law Jared Kushner and his peace envoy Steve Witkoff. There’s an anti-Semitic theory that, because both men are Jewish, they must be working hand-in-glove with Tel Aviv. But Kushner and Witkoff have in fact been far more subservient to their actual boss, who is desperate to find an ‘off-ramp’.

Netanyahu’s government has been frustrated that Kushner and Witkoff have frozen Israeli officials out, even denying them access to the wording of the MOU, apparently at the request of Qatar and Pakistan.

Meanwhile, Trump, who still insists he has a ‘great relationship with Bibi’, has made clear his anger at Israel’s aggression in Lebanon. At the G7 in France on Tuesday, he went so far as to suggest that Syria and its former terrorist president Ahmed al-Sharaa ‘take care of Hezbollah, because to be honest with you I think they’d do a better job’.

Trump can always claim that, when it comes to protecting Israel from Iran, he was willing to do more than any other president. Ever the optimist, he believes he has found a third way between the pro- and anti-interventionist positions. But his war seems destined to force a painful reckoning over America’s relationship with its closest ally in the Middle East. And Vance or Rubio may well have to deal with that.

The Spectator - Jerry Seinfeld and the dark truth about ‘Free Palestine’



(personal underlines)

Jerry Seinfeld and the dark truth about ‘Free Palestine’

Jerry Seinfeld told a YouTuber that Palestine doesn't exist (Alamy)

I see Jerry Seinfeld has got the pompous left sobbing into their keffiyehs. His sin? He refused to buckle to their neo-religious mantra ‘Free Palestine’. The comedy legend was accosted by a YouTuber outside Madison Square Gardens in NYC last week.

“Can we get a ‘Free Palestine’?”, the streamer asked as he shoved his mic towards Seinfeld’s gob. Seinfeld smirked. He held his tongue. No ‘Free Palestine’ passed his lips.

It gets better. He then proceeded to shut down his chirpy interrogator with three words. “It doesn’t exist”, he said. He was talking about Palestine. Cue fury from the Gazaholics. This was “racist rhetoric”, cried the cranks at the Council on American-Islamic Relations. Oh keep your burqas on. He wasn’t being racist – he was showing the world that even in an age of crushing conformity it is possible to stand your ground.

There was something heroic in Seinfeld’s smiling refusal to speak on command. By resisting the pressure to parrot the slogans of the self-righteous, he struck a blow for freedom of conscience. He resisted the trap of compelled speech, preferring the company of his own supposedly blasphemous thoughts. What a relief to discover there are celebrities out there who decline to bow to the passing fads of correct-think.

The backlash over his Palestine heresy was fast and furious. Social media is awash with Jerry hate. ‘Racist’, ‘apartheid lover’, ‘psycho’ – those barbs and others have been hurled his way. Mehdi Hasan called him a “disgusting and proud racist” and said he will never again watch an episode of Seinfeld. I bet Jerry’s gutted. Perhaps he’ll take comfort in the millions of dollars he still rakes in from Seinfeld every year, courtesy of viewers who aren’t big babies and don’t switch off TV shows in a pique of infantile rage when they discover they disagree with the people who made them.

The intensity of the backlash is proof of what a suffocating orthodoxy ‘Free Palestine’ has become. Fail to genuflect to this chattering-class catechism and you risk being cast out of polite society. Hence Seinfeld is being treated not as someone who has a different opinion on the Middle East but as a moral deviant deserving of castigation. Five hundred years ago he’d have been in the stocks. Or worse.

The pressure to hate Israel can feel overwhelming at times, especially in the cultural sphere. The keffiyeh people resemble a religious sect, checking the minds of every public figure for any whiff of that most verboten emotion: sympathy for the Jewish State. As the latest report from Freedom in the Arts found, Jewish artists are often subjected to ‘exceptional scrutiny’ and even ‘suspicion’, especially if they have Zionist leanings.

So good on Seinfeld – who is himself Jewish – for rebelling against the cruel scrutiny of Jewish creatives and instead staying true to the dictates of his own conscience. That’s another good reason to resist the lure of ‘Free Palestine’ – because it isn’t only the hollow slogan of arrogant activists; it has also become a tool for the taunting of Jews.

Badgering Jews to say ‘Free Palestine’ is the modern equivalent of making them take a loyalty test. It’s a way of measuring whether they’re a ‘Good Jew’ or a ‘Bad Jew’. Have they dutifully disowned the Jewish homeland, as their tormentors in the activist class demand of them? Or do they still stubbornly cling to their Zionists beliefs? If it’s the latter – if they openly balk at the purity test of saying ‘Free Palestine’ – then they will be denounced as racist, genocidal, a lower species of human. Such a cruel division of Jews into camps of ‘the moral’ and ‘the immoral’ will feel familiar to Jews who know their history.

Worse, Jews have been murdered, assaulted, set on fire and forcibly expelled from public institutions by people barking ‘Free Palestine’. That baleful slogan was the last thing those two Israeli Embassy staffers heard before they were shot to death on the steps of the Capital Jewish Museum in Washington, DC last year. It was bellowed at the elderly Jewish woman who was set on fire in Colorado, also last year. Or watch the clip of the American-Jewish woman being expelled from a spa in Barcelona last month after someone spied her Star of David necklace. ‘Free Palestine’, a member of the mob shouts.

‘Free Palestine’ feels like a jeer designed to taunt Jews with the dystopic vision of the destruction of their homeland. It is hollered at them as a threat, as a warning that, alone among the peoples of the world, they will one day be robbed of their sovereign rights and will see their homeland dismantled, all the way “from the river to the sea”. Listen, if your favoured slogan is yelled at Jews as they are mobbed and murdered, then it might not be as virtuous as you think it is. Thank you, Jerry, for helping to expose this dark truth about ‘Free Palestine’. 

Livro - La Guerre secreta contra les peuples

Mais uma teoria...


 



Observador - Deixem o Alberto trabalhar por zoom

 


(sublinhados pessoais)

Deixem o Alberto trabalhar por zoom

Comigo no poder, acabavam-se as excursões para fora do país. Na verdade, acabavam-se igualmente as excursões dentro do país, pela simples razão de que não estou para isso.

Houve por aí certa indignação, incluindo a deste vosso criado (salvo seja), pelo facto de o primeiro-ministro ter feito três viagens distintas aos Estados Unidos para assistir a três jogos da chamada selecção nacional durante o campeonato do mundo da bola. As justificações variaram: representação institucional, segundo o insuspeito dr. Montenegro; servir de amuleto, de acordo com o dr. Hugo Soares; aproveitar com voracidade as prebendas do cargo, na versão de uma amiga minha com décadas de experiência na política. Embora a minha amiga deva estar mais próxima da realidade, julgo que os motivos são menos importantes que a despesa, sobre a qual o gabinete do PM ainda não possui “informação detalhada que permita indicar um valor exato”. Quando possuir, eles de certeza correrão a informar-nos. Por enquanto, as línguas, boas ou más, falam em 100 mil euros por cada viagem, que incluiu o insigne estadista e dois ou três subordinados. Lembro também que, nos jogos da “selecção” a que o PM lamentavelmente faltou, “os magníficos embaixadores de Portugal e da Portugalidade que são os nossos atletas” (cito, juro, fonte governamental) contaram com o apoio decisivo nas bancadas americanas ou do dr. Aguiar-Branco ou do dr. “Tozé” Seguro. Com sorte, a coisa ficou aquém do meio milhão de euros, que o contribuinte paga e não bufa. Ou paga mesmo que bufe.

O contribuinte poderia não ter de pagar nada. Bastaria para isso que nenhum vulto do Estado aceitasse voar para Houston, Dallas, Miami e Toronto sem propósito discernível. O problema é que há precedentes e equivalentes, por cá e por lá. Por lá, especificamente na Europa, os PM da Croácia, da Noruega e da Escócia já marcaram presença no “Mundial”, se bem que em apenas um jogo da respectiva equipa (o exemplo de Javier Milei, que garantiu não aparecer nem sequer numa hipotética final da Argentina, não conta porque o homem, como se sabe, é maluco). Por cá, se descontarmos a mudança da corte para o Rio de Janeiro, evidentemente seduzida pelo passe anual no Maracanã, é suficiente recordar os casos do dr. Costa e sobretudo do prof. Marcelo, que raramente perdiam uma oportunidade de apoiar “os magníficos embaixadores da Portugalidade” em jogatanas no estrangeiro. No século em curso, suponho que Pedro Passos Coelho foi o único chefe de governo consciente de que não convinha consumir o erário público em patetices, pelo que, se não erro, jamais o vimos de cachecol verde e vermelho, a cometer figuras tristes num estádio a dois, quatro ou seis mil quilómetros de Lisboa. Aliás, Pedro Passos Coelho viajava em turística nos voos europeus e obrigava os seus ministros a proceder de igual modo, teimosia que sem dúvida alimentou acusações de prepotência e até “fascismo”.

Lamentavelmente, o panorama da política caseira não antecipa futuros líderes com noções básicas de austeridade, contenção e vergonha na cara. Na ausência de Pedro Passos Coelho, cujo regresso é no máximo uma possibilidade vaga, não se vislumbra o advento de um governante que, à semelhança de Milei, mostre respeito pelo dinheiro dos outros e evite esboroá-lo em passeatas sem sentido. Ou vislumbra? Para ser sincero, sei garantidamente de um português adulto e sem impedimentos legais que, apesar de não ter vida política, seria o mais escrupuloso PM em matéria de “representações institucionais”, as quais reduziria a um número próximo de zero. Curiosos? Do alto da minha vertiginosa modéstia, tenho a informar-vos de que o indivíduo em causa sou eu próprio.

Não é uma questão de ética, mas de carácter, ou da extraordinária falta de paciência para fretes que me define o carácter. “Inércia” é um sinónimo plausível, e a devoção que lhe dedico não conhece limites. Enquanto a maioria dos portugueses olha para as viagens dos governantes com inveja, eu contemplo-as com pena, pena das verbas desembolsadas e pena dos desgraçados que saltitam de aeroporto em aeroporto a fim de suportar futebolistas que dão sono, reuniões em que ninguém os ouve, conversas com “homólogos” que não fazem ideia de quem eles são, banquetes em que se come mal e ao lado de emplastros, patuscadas regadas a fado e folclore com compatriotas emigrados, conferências e colóquios e cimeiras e “certames” que convidam ao suicídio precoce e todo um inventário de suplícios desumanos.

Comigo no poder, acabavam-se as excursões para fora do país. Na verdade, acabavam-se igualmente as excursões dentro do país, pela simples razão de que não estou para isso. Conforme se verificou no “teletrabalho” da Covid, as traquitanas modernas, do Zoom ao Teams e ao Meet, permitem que se governe impecável e sazonalmente sem sair de casa, e eu, para cúmulo e desdém do drama habitacional que atinge os jovens, tenho duas e moro em três, pelo que dispenso a residência oficial e as descidas à capital. Convívios directos, somente com os compinchas do costume. Deslocações internacionais, somente os frequentes jantares em Zamora e as rotineiras “road trips” no Sudoeste dos EUA, que pratico há muitos anos e que continuaria a pagar do meu bolso. Prometo, e acreditem que cumpro, nunca beliscar o orçamento de Estado para efeitos de vadiagem abrilhantada a “jet lag”. O salário de PM, sem ajudas de custo, chega-me. E antes que surjam as comparações com o prof. Salazar, que voou uma vez e mal cruzou a fronteira num par de ocasiões, esclareço que: 1) não farei nem um voo a expensas públicas; 2) não tenciono encontrar-me com Franco ou Sánchez. De resto, Salazar conciliava a frugalidade íntima com a aborrecida supressão das liberdades alheias. Eu não sou frugal e não vejo qualquer vantagem na canseira de censurar o que os meus concidadãos pensam, dizem e fazem.

A propósito, sabem o que é que os meus concidadãos podiam fazer? Podiam fazer um partido, nomear-me chefe supremo e vitalício, organizar uma campanha de sucesso, eleger uma maioria esmagadora de deputados com os votos suficientes para eu formar governo com acumulação das cinco pastas sobreviventes – e depois esquecerem que existo. Desde que vocês tratem de tudo, por mim está bem.


sexta-feira, 10 de julho de 2026

Observador - Trump tem toda a razão sobre a Europa

 


(sublinhados pessoais)

Trump tem toda a razão sobre a Europa

Desligada dos EUA, esta Europa enfraquecida e desorientada tornar-se-ia rapidamente terra para todas as piratarias políticas. Nunca a Europa, desde o pós-guerra, dependeu tanto da América.

Sempre que há uma reunião da NATO, agora é assim. Primeiro, temos as provocações de Trump. Depois, é a vez das oligarquias europeias se contorcerem em chiliques (os EUA abandonaram-nos) e furores (vamos separar-nos). Por fim, toda a gente se reconcilia novamente: os europeus fazem promessas, Trump distribui alguma simpatia. Nada disto parece de levar a sério. Mas é sério. Aliás, não há nada de mais sério neste momento.

Esqueçam por uns minutos as rudezas de Trump. Ele tem razão, como os oligarcas europeus acabam sempre por admitir. Em 1980, o Reino Unido investia 5% do PIB em defesa, e a França, 3,25%. Em 2023, o Reino Unido gastava 2,3% e a França 1,95%. Para Trump, é essa a questão. Mas é só um lado da questão. Porque o desleixo defensivo remete para um facto mais geral. O facto é este: os governos europeus dos últimos trinta anos falharam. Pretenderam prevenir o “capitalismo selvagem”, e criaram uma selva de burocracia e corrupção. Quiseram corrigir as desigualdades, e tornaram os Estados insustentáveis e sufocantes. Procuraram salvar o planeta, e impuseram ao continente a electricidade mais cara do mundo. Hoje, a Europa diverge dos EUA como não acontecia há mais de 50 anos, e está à margem das inovações tecnológicas. Não é Trump que trata mal os governantes europeus: foram eles próprios que tudo fizeram para deixarem de ser levados a sério. A Europa tem hoje uma classe política como as do Terceiro Mundo, detestada pelos cidadãos e desprezada pelos estrangeiros.

Muitos destes erros foram inspirados por um último delírio de grandeza: tratava-se de fazer da Europa, depois ter sido o centro de impérios mundiais, a capital da moralidade no planeta, uma espécie de Vaticano laico. Os oligarcas europeus aspiraram mesmo à legitimidade inerente ao monopólio da virtude. Foi assim que negaram realidades e necessidades. Foi assim que adicionaram problemas. Consentiram no caos migratório para compensar a estagnação económica e demográfica, depois perfilharam o wokismo para calar os debates, e acabaram por comprometer a coesão nacional das suas sociedades. A Europa arrisca-se agora a perder não apenas o futuro, mas o passado.

O mundo mudou. A Europa nunca mais será o que foi. Os erros de muitos anos demorarão a ser corrigidos. Vai ser uma transição difícil. Por isso, qualquer separação dos EUA seria um desastre. Nunca os europeus, desde o pós-guerra, dependeram tanto da América. A Europa precisa dos EUA para tudo. Precisa das suas plataformas da internet, precisa da sua Inteligência Artificial, precisa das suas armas, e precisa dos seus soldados. Precisa, acima de tudo, do que a aliança com os EUA significa e garante: o princípio de que o continente europeu é um espaço civilizacional definido pelo império da lei, o governo representativo, a liberdade de expressão, e a economia de mercado, e a certeza de que essa civilização tem força para se defender dos seus inimigos.

Bem sei, bem sei: basta o presidente ser republicano, para a esquerda americana clamar que os EUA se abismaram no “imperialismo” e noutras malvadezas. Foi assim sob Reagan e Bush. É assim sob Trump. E há na Europa quem goste de partilhar esta demagogia, para imaginar divergências e justificar divórcios. Esqueçam: os europeus não têm meios para se distrair com polémicas americanas. Tomara a Europa, sobrecarregada com a perseguição ao “discurso de ódio”, gozar da liberdade de expressão da América de Trump. Desligada dos EUA, esta Europa enfraquecida e desorientada tornar-se-ia terra para todas as experiências e piratarias políticas. Os europeus não se podem permitir nada, em relação aos EUA, a não ser o mais rigoroso bom senso.

Desporto - Portugal futebol (Campeonato do Mundo)

 Esperámos! Sentados, claro...


...de?

...à final de ?

maior nº de passes milimétricos? maior nº de remates à baliza? 



...de Natal?

Cartoons - Jim Unger (Herrman)

 










The Spectator - Why Japanese students aren’t woke

 

(personal underlines)

Why Japanese students aren’t woke

Why smash a system that works well?

(Getty images)

One of the joys of living in Japan is the lack of wokeness. It is not that it doesn’t exist – there is a Tokyo Pride, the odd Gaza protest, and gender equality is increasingly discussed – it’s simply that the concept doesn’t quite translate. Like the strikes that only take place at the weekend so as not to inconvenience customers, woke protesters here are tiny in number, generally polite and devoid of the threatening aggressiveness of the West. And diversity isn’t really a thing. Maybe that’s another reason tourist numbers have exploded. You can get away from all that here… 

The young in particular seem charmingly oblivious to the culture wars, and universities are generally safe spaces for the woke-phobic. This was brought home to me last week as I was teaching a high-level English class. The word woke came up in reference to an article (an interview with Jonathan Haidt in The Spectator). To my surprise, only one of the group had even heard of woke (he had lived in the US), and even he only had the vaguest idea (‘Isn’t it kind of negative?’).  

 So, I summoned up the magic of ChatGPT to create a picture (‘exaggerate a bit and make it humorous’ was my instruction). The result was glorious: a fearsome, green-haired, culture warrior in the Millie Tant from Viz mould, with loud hailer, piercings, pin badges and tattoos, full to the brim with wokist zeal. It was all there: ‘smash the patriarchy’, ‘eat the rich’, ‘DEI’, trans, ‘silence is violence’, save the planet, ‘no one is illegal’, ‘down with white supremacy’, and a novel slogan I love and have decided to adopt as my ironic personal motto: ‘hugs not swords’.  

My Japanese students regarded all this with bemusement. They squinted to try to make sense of it, as you might with a challenging piece of modern art. The slogans clearly meant nothing, and the aggressive, denunciatory posture was incomprehensible to them. Why is she dressed like that? And what is she so angry about?  

To understand why woke has not taken hold in Japan, it is necessary to understand that the Japanese still believe in unique cultural phenomena, of Japanese things and foreign things. Woke, when it is even recognized is considered a Western socio-political construct, and thus not applicable to Japan. The Japanese are not necessarily hostile to the concept; they just don’t see its relevance to them. 

Besides that, aspects of woke clash with traditional societal norms that the Japanese are reasonably happy to hang on to. A patriotic people, devoid of cynicism about their country, there is little desire to smash a system that works pretty well. Japan is the 5th largest economy in the world, has amongst the lowest crime rate in the world, and is in the top 5 for longevity. If it ain’t broke, who needs woke? 

There are, of course, problems, but the Japanese expect problems, and have lower expectations than other countries. Contentment and freedom from stress are about the summit of most Japanese people’s aspirations.  

There is recent data to support this. A poll by the Nippon Foundation found that Japanese young people had the lowest hopes and expectations for their country of a group of nations, including the UK, China, India, South Korea, and the US. Only 16 per cent of Japanese believed that things would get better for them or Japan in the future.  

However, this could be seen positively, as evidence that the Japanese are fairly satisfied with their lot. Personal ambition and individual joy are subordinated to societal harmony (‘wa’). Standards of citizenship are high and penalties for genuine misbehaviour (behavior that threatens societal harmony) are severe. People are cancelled here, but only for breaking the law, for actual crimes, not speech or thought crimes. 

That is why, as an English teacher, I have learned to drop that old conversational gambit ‘What’s your dream (house, holiday, job, etc)?’ The discussions never get going, the dreams are too modest. One girl, asked about her perfect house, took two minutes to think, then answered: ‘I’d like to live near a Starbucks’. This is stony ground for a change-the-world wokist.  

Society is genuinely cohesive. ‘Everyone looks like they are members of the same family’ was Gore Vidal’s first observation when he visited Japan in the 1970s, and it’s still like that. If woke is truly a tool to divide and intimidate and gain power over others, then that will only work in a country that has sharp divisions of class, background, wealth, and political outlook. If people generally feel they are all part of an extended family, then stirring up divisions to gain advantage for your in-group is pointless.  

What is more, Woke’s campus failure exposes a fallacy about young Japanese people: that they are a bit childish. You might get that impression from the way they dress (the bags adorned with soft toys, a near obsession with ‘anime’, manga, Disney, ‘kawaii’ (cute) culture, Hello Kitty etc.). Someone once did a study that concluded that Japanese women were eight years behind their Western coevals in terms of maturity. 

But that depends on how you define maturity. The young trans activists at Dr Michael Foran’s Oxford lectures, who succeeded in getting the series cancelled and the four Palestinian Action protestors jailed for a total of 20 years for breaking into a factory, smashing up equipment, and seriously assaulting a policewoman, make for an interesting contrast. No doubt they considered themselves serious, politically-aware, and grown-up. 

But the idea of losing a learning opportunity you had paid for or throwing away the best years of your life for a violent protest would strike Japanese young people as not only disgraceful and selfish but absurd, like an infant’s tantrum. And, in a country where the concept of Mottainai (despair over waste) is deeply ingrained, a shocking misuse of your time. 

If that is immature, may the Japanese never grow up. 

The Spectator - University isn’t worth it

 

(personal underlines)

University isn’t worth it

One in ten graduates are earning less than minimum wage five years after graduating

(iStock)

In September 2018, I started my undergraduate degree in English and Philosophy — a useful vocation, I know. My mother and I drove from London to Bristol in her green Mazda2, walked through the rain to my student digs, blu-tacked my Johnny Cash poster over the fist-shaped hole in the wall, embraced and then said goodbye. 

And so began my university experience. Three years of debauchery. Three years of dangly earrings, unwashed pants and forgetting to call my mother. Three years of pitta and chips, irritable bowel syndrome, mullets, £2 cider, sanctimonious student theatre, lecturer strikes, Covid Zoom calls and missed deadlines. 

And then it was over. I was no longer a student. I was a graduate. And what did I have to show for it? Not very much, just a flimsy certificate and £50,000 of increasing debt. Five years later, and I’m left scratching my supposedly educated chin, wondering, ‘Was it worth it?’ 

Well, according to the latest British Social Attitudes survey, potentially not. The BSA has found that the proportion of people who think a degree is no longer worth the time and money jumped from 14 per cent in 2005 to 34 per cent in 2025. I’m surprised that number isn’t higher.   

Let us look at the student finance system. I have what you call a Plan 2 student loan. That means I pay 9 per cent of everything I earn over the repayment threshold, which Rachel Reeves has frozen at £29,385 between 2027 and 2030 (not in keeping with inflation). Currently, the maximum interest one can accrue on a Plan 2 loan is 6.2 per cent, though the government has promised to cap that at 6 per cent for the 2026-27 academic year. 

By the start of the 2027-28 academic, a typical full-time university course will cost £10,050 a year. That means a student leaving university in 2030 will have amassed over £30,00 of debt, or £60,000 if you take out the maintenance loan (as I did). Many graduates have found that they don’t earn enough to make a significant dent in their debt. In fact, many graduates make monthly repayments without ever reducing the capital. ‘But didn’t you know what you were getting yourselves into? Surely this was explained to you before you signed the contract?’ I hear you ask. 

The answer is yes and no. Just last month, more than 52,000 people responded to a call for evidence by the Treasury Committee for its inquiry into the taxation of graduates. Over half of them said they didn’t understand the terms they had signed up for. A further 51 per cent said they would not have taken on the loans if they had known then what they know now. And earlier this year, the BBC discovered that a series of ‘student finance tours’ delivered to thousands of schools between 2011 and 2017 compared student loan repayments to a ‘£30-a-month phone contract’. Last time I checked, I didn’t owe EE £70,000.  

But repayments aside, is a degree even worth £30,000? I don’t think so. At least not in my experience. In general, the quality of teaching at most British universities is poor. I could count the number of engaging tutors I had with one hand, and I would still have two fingers spare. Of course, I’m particularly jaded: I was at university during the pandemic. This means I paid £9,250 a year to spend two-thirds of my degree on Zoom listening to a seminar tutor slurp a cup of coffee with their webcam turned off.  

But fine, let’s pretend for a second that the teaching justifies the price point. What about the opportunities post-graduation? Surely a degree means better employment prospects? Wrong. In fact, Alan Milburn’s recent review found that more than one million young people (16-24) were not in education, employment or training. These are the highest — and by ‘highest’, we mean worst — figures in 12 years. If I had a pound for every automated AI job rejection in my inbox, I’d have enough money to pay off my student loan (or just about, depending on the interest).  

This week, a report by the think tank Policy Exchange revealed that one in ten graduates are earning less than minimum wage five years after graduating. It also found that over one third of graduates are not working in ‘graduate jobs’. So even if you do secure a job, a liveable salary is far from guaranteed.  

But still there are university defenders. They say things like, ‘But university is an experience. It teaches you life lessons. You can’t put a price on memories!’ Yes. Yes, you can. Currently, it’s £62,000. What irks me the most is the claim that universities benefit disadvantaged people. How? Degrees are essentially worthless unless specialised and vocational. Those wealthy enough to pay for university without taking out a loan already do. It’s the rest of us, the gullible majority, who will spend the next 30 years paying the government back for a certificate.  

So I ask again: is university worth it? The answer is subjective. I enjoyed my time at university. I made some great friends and had transformative experiences. What is not subjective, however, is the fact that universities are increasingly behaving like businesses — and not the sort that cares for its customers. Until 1998, university was effectively free. It made sense for higher education to have a ‘you should count yourself lucky’ attitude.  

Universities still have that attitude, only now they’re charging us £9,790 for the privilege. For me, that’s inexcusable.