segunda-feira, 13 de abril de 2026

The Spectator - If only Britain was as important as Iran thinks we are

 


(personal underlinings, silent reflections and LAUGHS!)

If only Britain was as important as Iran thinks we are

I am becoming rather fond of Prime Minister Starmer’s major foreign policy announcements. In early January, after US forces swooped into Venezuela and took President Maduro to New York to face trial, Keir Starmer was keen to get straight out in front of the cameras. There he said that he wanted to stress that ‘the UK was not involved in any way in this operation’. As though the whole world had been expecting to hear that the British armed forces were indeed central in snatching the narco-terrorist from Caracas.

This week it was again Starmer’s turn to stand behind a podium, British flags behind him, and deliver another statement that absolutely no one thought necessary. Speaking about the US-led strikes on Iran, he announced solemnly: ‘I want to set out our response.’ What could it be? The world wondered. ‘The United Kingdom played no role in these strikes,’ he declared.

A day later the Prime Minister could be found speaking to the camera from a corridor of Downing Street – the Union flag behind him. Again in a tone of the utmost gravity, this time he said: ‘Yesterday I spoke to you about the situation in the Gulf and explained that the United Kingdom was not involved in the strikes on Iran.’ What on earth could be coming next? The world was waiting. And then the big one: ‘That remains the case,’ the Prime Minister said.

This is all starting to remind me of one of those internet memes when someone famous is accused of sleeping with some beautiful celebrity and a denial has to be issued, after which a lot of internet wags tend to chime in with formal public statements confirming that they too have not slept with the gorgeous celebrity in question.

The point being that Starmer speaks as though he is a man of far greater significance than he is. It saddens me that this is the case, but in fact Britain’s role in the world is so diminished that nobody any longer believes that the British are somehow leading the way in all world affairs.

As it happens, about the only place in the world where some people did still believe that was Iran. The late regime leaders in Tehran had for decades been fond of claiming that Britain was behind almost everything nefarious in their region and the wider world. Adopting the old Jewish joke from 1930s Germany, I have often told British friends that if they want to feel good about our country during its decline in the world, they need only read the Iranian government’s media organs. There they would have learned that we are central to absolutely every-thing. The Iranian government professed to believe that there is not a thing that America does that they are not manipulated into by the wickedhand of the British state. MI5 and MI6 gained particular credit for world affairs in Tehran’s media outlets.

Alas that has not been the case for years, and it is not the case now. So it is strange that Starmer should choose this moment to reflect the ayatollahs’ views back at them. For a long time Britain has managed to punch somewhat above its weight internationally by means of the ‘special relationship’ with Washington. Starmer himself has been keen to look after this fluttering flame. But when America asked Britain for permission to use its military bases if it needed them during this mission, the British government said ‘no’ – which suggests that the special relationship isn’t all that special. Or at least that is how Washington is going to read it.

Some observers think that Starmer is pivoting away from Washington in order to tack his foreign and economic policies more tightly towards the EU. One problem with that is it means in the direction of inertia.

Starmer’s carefully worded statement about Venezuela mentioned that the UK was opposed to the criminal regime in that country. It’s just that we are not willing to do anything about it. Likewise his statements on Iran have stressed that the UK government does not like the Ayatollah’s regime, or its plans for nuclear weapons. But again, like our European neighbours, we just weren’t willing to do anything much about it.

During one of his statements this week, Starmer mentioned that the Iranian government has been caught trying to carry out 20 terrorist plots in the UK in the past year alone. Ordinarily, that is the sort of thing that would offend a country – the sort of thing that might make a country seek to act. It is at least the sort of thing that would allow you to say that although you haven’t joined in the attack by your allies, you wish them well and wish them success – as Germany has.

The reasons why Starmer can’t and won’t do that seem to be twofold. The first reason is that he knows that all such foreign conflicts – particularly in the Middle East – now have the potential to cause serious domestic disturbance. Anyone doubting that need only read what Ministry of Defence sources told the Guardian a decade ago, when they stressed that, thanks to mass migration, there were now multiple foreign theatres of conflict which the UK could not risk getting involved in. Or they might take note of the number of planned events in the UK to commemorate the deceased Ayatollah Khamenei.

The second reason is that this government is run by international lawyers. As The Spectator has noted before, Starmer, Lord Hermer and the rest of them really do seem to believe that there is no such thing as a sovereign government. International law – of an especially nebulous, if left-wing variety – reigns supreme above mere national governments, let alone electorates. And so Starmer and the rest cannot make judgments based on Britain’s national interests or even their preferred policy. They simply sit back, wait for the legal advice – and then do nothing.

It is a strange place for a once-great world power to find itself in. But it makes for a logic of a kind. An island of strangers busily trying to set an example that absolutely none of the rest of the world is looking to follow.


Observador - A Divina vitória do Irão nos estúdios de televisão

 


(sublinhados pessoais)

A Divina vitória do Irão nos estúdios de televisão

O Irão continuará limitado, perigoso e fanático. E certos comentadores continuarão a fazer por ele aquilo que o seu aparelho militar já não consegue: fabricar poder a partir de fumo

Durante semanas, Israel e os EUA esmurraram militarmente o regime iraniano até este aceitar um cessar-fogo provisório, precário, condicional, com aroma intervalo táctico. Mas em numerosos painéis a República Islâmica está a dar uma espantosa lição aos aliados israelitas e americanos

Convém começar pelo elementar, que hoje parece ausente nestes areópagos televisivos: se Teerão estava a ganhar, porque aceitou falar com o Grande Satã?

Um vencedor não vai conversar a Islamabad entre discordias de personalidades do regime, enquanto a sua margem de manobra estratégica encolhe a cada dia. O cessar-fogo prova, não a força do Irão, mas que a continuação da guerra lhe parecia pior.

Há pois que separar propaganda de realidade. O Irão está nesta  guerra com o estatuto de  sobrevivente. Mas sobreviver não é vencer. Os ataques iranianos com mísseis e drones caíram cerca de 90% desde o início da guerra, foram danificadas ou destruídas dois terços das instalações de produção ligadas a mísseis, drones e meios navais; foram atingidos dezenas de milhares de alvos militares e afundada quase toda a marinha iraniana. Não houve aniquilação total, mas muitos menos a gloriosa resistência estratégica que certos sacerdotes da nuance andam a vender na praça pública. A degradação da capacidade militar  foi incompleta, mas severa.

Israel logrou, até agora, uma redução concreta da ameaça futura. Não a eliminou, porque guerras reais não se resolvem com passes de mágica,  e o inimigo continua a ter meios, homens e vontade. Sobretudo vontade. Mas reduziu-lhe a liberdade de acção. Os lançadores balísticos são mais difíceis de repor do que muita gente imagina e o simples facto de o Irão não conseguir disparar grandes salvas mostra que a sua capacidade utilizável encolheu. O erro de concentrar meios em instalações subterrâneas profundas permitiu aos EUA e a Israel manter vigilância persistente sobre esses locais, tornando muitos desses sistemas  inúteis

Os EUA, apesar de não saírem imaculados, conseguiram impor custos pesadíssimos ao regime, forçaram-no a aceitar tréguas, mantêm a iniciativa coerciva e várias opções em aberto,  e levaram Teerão a admitir a  entrega do stock de 400 kg  de urânio enriquecido a 60%, que poderia dar para cerca de dez bombas. Por outras palavras,  Washington não derrotou ainda o regime, mas ganhou uma posição de força negocial que simplesmente não existiria sem o castigo militar. Agora ameaça um golpe de jiu jitsu sobre os navios que transitam de e para o estreito de Ormuz, acabando com a extorsão mafiosa implantada pela Guarda Revolucionária.

Onde está então a tal “vitória”  de que tantos falam com o entusiasmo húmido de quem descobre um Che Guevara em cada aiatola? Na imaginação de parte do comentariado ocidental. E em Portugal, a imaginação de parte do comentariado tem uma graça particular, porque se apresenta sempre com ar de superioridade civilizacional. Na nossa fauna prolifera o especialista que acha sempre que Israel exagera, os EUA  estragam, e o inimigo dos dois deve conter, algures, uma racionalidade secreta, uma dignidade ferida, um trauma histórico, uma metafísica da resistência. Se o Irão perde meios, perdeu apenas material. Se perde influência, ganhou moral. Se aceita negociar, fê-lo por sabedoria. Se recua, está a redefinir os termos do conflito. Nunca lhes ocorre a hipótese óbvia de o regime islamista estar, simplesmente, a apanhar pancada.

A doença intelectual  é antiga. Olha-se para um regime teocrático, repressivo, imperial, patrocinador de proxies armados, com um historial vasto de terrorismo e extorsão, e evidentes ambições nuclearee, e trata-se o zote como se fosse uma espécie de Vaticano com turbante.

Mas o Irão não é uma potência normal com irritações normais e apenas com objectivos tangíveis. O regime assenta numa fusão entre cálculo de Estado e impulso ideológico-religioso. A Guarda Revolucionária é uma máquina de poder, repressão, exportação revolucionária, guerra irregular e intimidação.

Não se trata apenas de geopolítica, mas de jihad. A geopolítica trabalha com interesses, equilíbrios, custos e ganhos. A jihad trabalha com missão, sacralização do conflito, tempo longo e legitimação metafísica da violência. Claro que o Irão faz cálculos. Claro que mede riscos. Claro que pode negociar. Mas sem abandonar a matriz que o faz ver o poder como instrumento de uma causa. É por isso que a velha cantilena ocidental da diplomacia, apaziguamento e  janelas de diálogo, produz sempre o efeito contrário ao prometido. Em Teerão, a contenção alheia é lida como fraqueza a explorar. Cada hesitação ocidental, cada eufemismo, cada recusa em chamar as coisas pelo nome educa o regime na convicção de que o Ocidente prefere sempre adiar o confronto até o preço ser impossível de pagar.

A atitude europeia recente face a esta guerra, reforçou precisamente essa ideia. A França, o Reino Unido, a vergonha espanhola, a Alemanha e até a Itália, que recusou enviar meios navais para patrulhamento sem mandato da ONU e negara já o uso de Sigonella para operações americanas, são exemplos de autismo. Cada uma das suas decisões pode ter racionalidade táctica e política interna mas passa  um  sinal estratégico agregado de que, mesmo perante uma guerra  desta dimensão, a Europa está mais preocupada em parecer prudente do que em ser dissuasora. E o Irão toma nota.

Entretanto, a realidade insiste em estragar a ficção. O estreito de Ormuz continua sequestrado. O bloqueio iraniano provocou a pior perturbação de sempre no abastecimento global de energia.  Isto é importante porque desmonta outra fantasia muito repetida: a de que o Irão “mostrou controlo” e saiu fortalecido.

Não. O Irão mostrou que pode causar dano, o que é muito diferente. Um assaltante que ainda consegue incendiar a casa antes de fugir não passa a dono do bairro. Continua apenas a ser perigoso.

Também é intelectualmente fraudulento fingir que a ameaça iraniana é uma abstracção distante, confinada ao Levante e aos nervos de Israel. Relembro que só o Reino  Unido respondeu, desde 2022, a vinte conspirações apoiadas pelo Irão que representavam ameaças potencialmente letais a cidadãos  britânicos. E um relatório de 2025 descreveu a ameaça iraniana como significativa e crescente.

Não estamos portanto a falar de um problema exótico para especialistas em tapetes persas. Estamos perante um regime cuja agressividade extravasa a região e toca directamente a segurança europeia.

Que futuro próximo se desenha, então, para um Irão efectivamente limitado?

Há dois cenários plausíveis, ambos desagradáveis para os adoradores da retórica vazia. No primeiro, há acordo. Mas um acordo digno desse nome teria de incluir monitorização intrusiva e duradoura, tanto do programa nuclear como do vector balístico. A questão não é o que o Irão promete no papel, mas como se vigia e como se pune o incumprimento. Sem inspecções intrusivas e sem prontidão americana e israelita para voltar a atacar, não há caminho sério em frente. A própria Casa Branca já fixou como linha vermelha a remoção do urânio enriquecido. Um acordo frouxo, ornamental, cheio de parágrafos e vazio de dentes, seria apenas a preparação metódica da próxima guerra.

No segundo cenário, não há acordo satisfatório. Mas a ausência de acordo não significa necessariamente o apocalipse; pode significar apenas um Irão mais fraco, mais vigiado, mais incapaz de reconstruir rapidamente a sua ameaça. Mesmo sem mudança de regime, Teerão pode ser forçado a modificar posições sob pressão existencial, a beber de novo o seu “cálice de veneno”. E, se não conseguir governar-se eficazmente, isso não é pior do que antes. Haverá uma entidade política menos apta a perseguir armas nucleares e mísseis balísticos mais sofisticados. O instrumento para isso não é o optimismo, é a coerção sustentada: vigilância aérea persistente, linhas vermelhas claras, prontidão para raides temporários e ataques imediatos se o regime tentar reconstituir capacidades proibidas.

E aqui regressamos ao vício português da análise engajada.  Em demasiados estúdios, o que se ouve, não é uma avaliação fria dos resultados da guerra, mas a velha liturgia de ressentimento. Se Israel resiste, irritam-se e descobrem um genocídio em cada esquina; se os EUA agem, escandalizam-se; se o Irão aguenta, romantizam. Como se a principal obrigação de um comentador não fosse perceber quem ameaça, quem agride e quem procura limitar essa ameaça, mas sim encontrar sempre uma forma de atribuir culpas simétricas ao incendiário e ao bombeiro. Não é sofisticação, é apenas preguiça mental e activismo.

No fim, o que esta guerra mostrou até agora é simples. A ameaça iraniana foi seriamente degradada; os EUA ganharam capacidade de coerção e margem negocial; o regime iraniano sobreviveu, mas mais ferido, mais vigiado, mais limitado e menos livre do que antes; a Europa hesitou, como sempre; e uma parte do comentário português, fiel à tradição de tomar a pose por inteligência, correu a proclamar vitórias persas com a mesma fúria com que Marcelo Rebelo de Sousa distribuía medalhas

Mas a realidade, reaccionária como sempre, tem o péssimo hábito de reaparecer. E quando reaparece, a poeira assenta e costuma humilhar os vaidosos. Talvez alguns dos nossos especialistas descubram que “resiliência” não é sinónimo de vitória, que sobreviver a um castigo não equivale a prevalecer, e que chamar génio estratégico à mera capacidade de continuar a arder é uma forma requintada de estupidez.

Até lá, o Irão continuará limitado, perigoso e fanático. E certos comentadores continuarão a fazer por ele aquilo que o seu aparelho militar já não consegue: fabricar poder a partir de fumo.


Desporto - Andebol

 Onde, com 1,98m, se deve "pôr correctamente a mão"... (Wolff)



ou... a solidão dos excepcionais (Gidsel).



Cartoon - Charlie Hebdo

 Imagine-se como seria uma capa com o que aconteceu com os iranianos...




Cartoons - Jim Unger

 

















Livro - Trifecta

 













sexta-feira, 10 de abril de 2026

Observador - O que está em causa é mais importante do que Trump

 



(sublinhados pessoais)

O que está em causa é mais importante do que Trump

Quem preza o Ocidente e a democracia liberal deveria desejar uma vitória americana, independentemente do que pense de Donald Trump.

A ditadura iraniana esteve sujeita, durante mais de um mês, a uma campanha aérea que eliminou quase todos os seus líderes e uma grande parte dos seus recursos militares. Ficou sem defesa aérea, e os mísseis e drones com que atacou foram, de modo geral, anulados pela defesa dos países vizinhos. Sofreu mesmo a humilhação de nem ter conseguido impedir os EUA de resgatarem dois pilotos bem dentro do seu território. Mas a ditadura mantém-se, e criou insegurança suficiente no golfo Pérsico para interromper a circulação marítima. Agora, aproveita a pausa da guerra para simular vitória. Era de esperar. O que talvez seja de admirar mais é a precipitação com que uma parte das elites políticas ocidentais deu razão aos mullahs nessa reclamação espúria. Porquê?

Porque desde o início que, para essas elites, o que esteve em causa nesta guerra não foi a teocracia sanguinária e corrupta de Teerão, mas a presidência de Donald Trump. Por isso, embora não tivessem torcido pelos mullahs, torceram para que as coisas corressem mal e Trump, com os preços a subirem, tivesse de desistir. No New York Times, escrevia-se ontem que este tinha sido o “Suez” de Trump. Era uma alusão à operação militar que, em 1956, confirmou o eclipse do poder da Inglaterra e da França no Médio Oriente. Seria desejável isso acontecer aos EUA, só para Trump perder as legislativas de Novembro?

Valerá a pena repetir que não é Trump que está em causa? Que é a ditadura clerical do Irão, um regime apocalíptico que matou em Janeiro milhares de iranianos, que prometeu destruir Israel, que tem atacado e subvertido a vizinhança, que é um aliado crucial de Putin, e que é o foco do radicalismo islâmico que inspira o terrorismo entre os muçulmanos? O Ocidente tentou lidar com a ditadura iraniana através de sanções. Inutilmente. Resta-lhe a força militar. Se agora se concluísse que também essa não é suficiente, por relutância dos EUA em suportar os custos da guerra, o problema não é só de Trump nem só para Trump. Não é só de Trump, porque se os EUA não podem ganhar esta guerra sob Trump, nunca a ganharão sob nenhum outro presidente, a quem, além de faltar os meios, faltaria também a vontade. O problema não é só para Trump, porque é a Europa quem já está ao alcance dos mísseis iranianos, uma Europa quase sem armas e com grandes populações muçulmanas, a quem os jihadistas não deixariam de tentar mobilizar com um insucesso americano. Talvez mais gente saiba isto do que parece. Talvez por isso não tenhamos tido as marchas contra a guerra de 2003.

Se nada correr bem, terá sido culpa de Trump por ter tentado desarmar agora os tiranos de Teerão? A guerra é uma opção terrível, mas a inacção teria sido apenas um caminho mais silencioso para a derrota. Os que dizem que só se deveria atacar o regime iraniano quando dispusesse comprovadamente de armas nucleares nem percebem que nesse momento já não seria possível atacá-lo sem arriscar uma guerra nuclear. O sucesso também não estaria garantido se o presidente dos EUA fosse menos bombástico. Nenhuma conversa mais gentil teria persuadido os governos europeus, paralisados pelo medo da imigração muçulmana e dos custos do rearmamento, a ajudar.

Repito: o nevoeiro da guerra ainda não se levantou. A ditadura iraniana certamente que não está mais forte. Trump pode ter alcançado, ou vir a alcançar, os seus objectivos (acima de todos, degradar a capacidade do Irão de projectar poder). Quem preza o Ocidente e a democracia liberal deveria desejar isso, independentemente do que pense de Donald Trump. O que está em jogo é muito mais importante do que o número de congressistas e senadores que o partido de Trump pode eleger em Novembro.


The Spectator - Will colonialism’s psychological legacy ever cease to be a source of pain?

 (personal underlines)


Will colonialism’s psychological legacy ever cease to be a source of pain?

The British Empire’s abiding bequest has not been infrastructure and administrative systems but a memory of repression that continues to pass down through generations, says Simukai Chigudu

Whenever the legacy of colonialism comes up for debate, a Monty Python sketch springs to mind. It’s the one from Life of Brian in which Reg, the leader of the People’s Front of Judea, exclaims: ‘What did the Romans ever do for us?’ Corrected, he eventually concedes: ‘OK, apart from the sanitation, the medicine, education, wine, public order, irrigation, roads, a fresh water system, and public health, what have the Romans ever done for us?

It’s a brilliant exchange. But as Simukai Chigudu’s beautifully written memoir testifies, one that misses an essential point, in that colonialism’s bequest extends beyond infrastructure and administrative systems. Its most abiding – if tantalising – legacy has been psychological and emotional. And just like the railways, roads, universities and hospitals, those traces have been passed down through the generations, often barely definable to those inheriting them, yet undeniably there.

Chasing Freedom is a bellow of ancestral pain written by a man who, while moving from the privileged private schools of the former Rhodesia to the boozy student halls of Newcastle and quads of Oxford, attempts to digest and reconcile the contradictions of his family history. He often fails, repeatedly hovering on the verge of breakdown.

For those who don’t share the author’s skin colour, very particular experience or political views, this account could easily have felt like a hectoring sermon. Amazingly, Chigudu manages to avoid that trap, perhaps because he’s as merciless on himself as the long-dead colonial figures and occasional Reform supporters he encounters.

He was born in Zimbabwe only six years after the end of that country’s war of independence. His father, Tafi, is a war veteran, who fought against white-run Rhodesia’s army and still cannot bear to hear a bad word said about Robert Mugabe. His Ugandan mother, who met Tafi while studying at Makerere University, belongs to a generation of budding African feminists who believed that education held the key to freedom. She was determined that her son should grow up fully ‘exposed’: ‘My child must get everything I didn’t get… You must travel, you must see the world.’ Chigudu was already boarding international flights, solo, at the age of six.

An anxious-to-please only child, he became the most dogged of academic high achievers, getting marks that won him acceptance into schools once earmarked for white ‘Rhodies’. There he was taught by masters whose views Nigel Molesworth would have recognised. His parents assumed they were equipping him for middle-class life in a proud postcolonial African state. In fact, Chigudu now recognises, ‘my education was priming me for life outside Zimbabwe’.

As Mugabe’s rift with the British government over compensation for the appropriation of white farms widened, Zimbabwe’s economy collapsed and inflation soared to stratospheric levels. Chigudu’s path out of the country is set – first to a private school in Lancashire, then to Newcastle University, where he is flabbergasted by the student body’s yobbishness and feels ‘like a misplaced peppercorn in a bowl of salt’. Lost and bewildered, he is swallowed up by a Christian group – ‘I doubled down on my commitments to Christ, the way a closeted gay man might perform hypermasculinity’ – before realising his fervour was just one in a series of attempts to blank out his underlying malaise.

From there he moves to the University of Oxford. Shifting from medicine to political science, he plays a key role in the unsuccessful campaign to topple the statue of Cecil Rhodes overseeing Oriel College, deemed by Chigudu and fellow campaigners an unacceptable glorification of empire.

While the removal of a Cecil Rhodes statue from its plinth in Cape Town in 2015 always seemed both fitting and overdue, the attempt to extend the ‘Rhodes Must Fall’ campaign to Oxford felt – to me, at least – like a case of arrogant overreach. I reassessed that view after reading Chigudu’s memoir, so convincingly does he convey how historic repression and inherited trauma worm their way into the mindsets of succeeding generations.

Honesty is key to his tale. While he lacerates Rhodes and his contemporaries, Chigudu is under no illusions as to more recent horrors perpetrated by his father’s liberation heroes. Those include Gukurahundi, the massacres committed in Matabele in the 1980s by a Zimbabwean army unit, and the slum clearances in 2005 which left at least 700,000 homeless and 2.4 million facing starvation and disease. Chigudu readily admits that he only learned about many of these crimes once abroad, such is the sanitising of history practised by Mugabe aficionados inside Zimbabwe.

His reckoning extends to his parents, whose loveless and at times abusive relationship is exposed to the same nuanced but remorseless gaze as his own obsessive-compulsive personality. That’s brave, given that both these ‘flawed and astonishingly scarred’ individuals were still alive at the time this book went to press, and none too happy about his approach.

‘What I’ve been investigating is how personal history is linked to larger history,’ he explains at the end; ‘how political liberation from oppressive rule is not the same as freedom of the self from the burdens of the past.’

Great biographers need to be both lacerating and humane: Chigudu certainly has those qualities. To understand all is not necessarily to forgive all; it is simply, well, to understand. The even-handed empathy he displays throughout to all the players in his life’s story makes this a truly compelling read.

Desporto - Sumo (torneio de Março 2026)

Kirishima won!





 


Classificação antes do torneio


Desistência de Midorifuji




Cartoons - Jim Unger 4th treasury

 





The Spectator - Americans are erasing European culture

 (personal underlines)

Americans are erasing European culture

From music to food, Uncle Sam’s influence is everywhere

Mariah Carey performs at the opening ceremony of the Milan Winter Olympics. (Photo: Wang Zhao/AFP/Getty)

Did Mariah Carey mime or not when she headlined the opening ceremony of the Winter Olympics in Milan? That was the main takeaway from last Friday’s jamboree. Organisers have since suggested that the US singer did indeed lip-sync to Domenico Modugno’s ‘Nel Blu, dipinto di Blu’ and the song that followed, her very own, ‘Nothing is Impossible’. ‘The technical, logistical and organisational complexities of an Olympic ceremony are not comparable to a live performance by a single artist,’ said a spokesperson for the organising committee.   

Was there also a linguistical complexity in the decision? Perhaps Carey didn’t feel confident singing live in Italian in front of 75,000 spectators in the San Siro Stadium, plus the 9.2 million Italians watching the ceremony on television. Nevertheless, Maria Laura Iascone of the organising committee called Carey’s performance ‘exceptional’, adding that the board was ‘very honoured’ she had agreed to top the bill. 

The French were honoured in 2024 when Lady Gaga was the headline act at the opening ceremony of the Paris Olympics. The American also pre-recorded her song, ‘Mon Truc En Plume’, the cabaret song made famous in the 1960s by Zizi Jeanmaire. Lady Gaga said she was ‘humbled’ to perform the song, which she did to ‘honour the French people and their tremendous history of art, music and theatre’. 

Madame Gaga wasn’t the only American star flown in by the French. Rapper Snoop Dogg was invited to carry the Olympic flame through the suburbs of Paris en route to the stadium. According to the French media, the American rapper provided the Games with an indispensable source of energy’.  

Olympic opening ceremonies are supposed to showcase all that is wonderful, quirky and unique about the host nation. Danny Boyle did it brilliantly with the opening ceremony of the 2012 Olympics in London, a show that ranged from Mr Bean to David Beckham and the Arctic Monkeys to the London Symphony Orchestra.   

But the reliance on American stars underlines how Italy and France are being inexorably ‘Americanised’ to the point where they now lack confidence in their own culture. Britain has also been Americanised – but because we share the same language there was less cultural difference to start. Not so in France, where the cultural invasion by America is now everywhere: language, the arts, ‘woke’ ideology and even the names chosen by parents. 

Increasing numbers of French children are christened Kevin, Cindy, Dylan and Jordan. Indeed, there is a chance that next year the French will elect as their president Jordan Bardella. 

One of France’s leading social scientists is Jérôme Fourquet, who has written extensively about the Americanisation of the Republic. ‘[It] began in the 1950s-1960s in cinema, music and fashion, and continued in the 1980s-1990s with the appearance of new first names…before spreading to food,’ he explained. 

The number of fast-food restaurants in France – most of them American – has rocketed this century. In 2006 there were 18,600 fast food outlets in France; today there are 47,000. After the USA, France is McDonald’s biggest global market. Bistros, on the other hand, are in crisis. There were approximately 200,000 village bistros in France in the 1960s; today there are 30,000. On average, 25 traditional restaurants close each day. 

Italian cuisine is also being Americanised. McDonald’s is currently investing €800 million in expanding its operations in Italy. The chain opened 51 new restaurants in 2024 and plans to have 900 restaurants up and running by the end of 2027, an increase of 145 on 2024. 

Italian politicians try to put a positive spin on this culinary conquest. Francesco Lollobrigida, the Minister of Agriculture and Food Sovereignty, praised the partnerships between McDonald’s and suppliers of local products. It is a ‘synergy’ he said, ‘that can enhance Italian products … with a re-education on ancient flavours that are being rediscovered’. Lollobrigida cited Montasio cheese as something a ‘young person is unlikely to eat’ were it not in a McDonald’s burger. 

From Mariah Carey to McDonald’s, Italy has no answer to the soft power of America. At least Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni is a friend to Donald Trump, unlike Emmanuel Macron, the arch-enemy of his American counterpart. Earlier this week the French President renewed his call for ‘a more sovereign Europe’ to counter the threats and intimidation of America. But it’s too late for that. 

Last December Trump warned Europe that it faced ‘civilisational erasure’ because of mass immigration from the developing world. He has a point. But what about the cultural erasure of Europe that is almost complete? Blame Uncle Sam for that. 

The Spectator - Driving isn’t fun any more

 (personal underlines)


Driving isn’t fun any more

Robotic cars are the final insult

It is almost inconceivable that we used to live in a world where people would ‘go for a drive’. Not to get to a destination, but simply for the pleasure of driving. Sunday afternoons were the time of choice for this activity and would see car owners take to the road simply because it was good fun to be behind the wheel. The idea that driving was anything other than functional now seems absurd.  

That world has vanished, partly due to the sheer volume of cars. In 1971 (the year my dad learned to drive), there were roughly 15 million cars on UK roads. Today, on those same roads, there are 34 million. Driving was more pleasurable when there was space to breathe — empty ribbons of tarmac where you might encounter another car every five minutes. Now, the ‘drive’ is spent in a metal conga line, with journeys that should take 15 minutes routinely taking 50.  

Motorway driving may be the worst sub-category of driving. These days, the M25 is more a car park than a road, where one can enjoy the experience of watching their fuel gauge descend simultaneously with their will to live. If you’re lucky enough to actually move, you’ll be tailgated by a BMW, cut up by an HGV, and then get stuck behind a Nissan Micra (not overtaking) in the middle lane.  

There is also the matter of modern technology. Modern cars come equipped with LED headlights so bright they could double as anti-piracy searchlights. Using your rear-view mirror requires similar precautions to be taken as viewing a solar eclipse. Fail to take these precautions, and you’re subjected to retinal warfare that’s comparable to staring into the detonation of an atomic bomb, leaving you forced to navigate the roads by braille. These lights may well help their users see better, but this is at the expense of temporarily blinding everyone else. We’re led to believe that this is automotive progress. 

What’s most peculiar is what cars do to their occupants. The moment some people’s posterior makes contact with a driver’s seat, they undergo a Jekyll and Hyde-style psychological transformation that is actually just as fascinating as it is horrifying. These are ordinary people — the type that would apologise for being bumped into — who become snarling, hostile beasts the moment they’re encased in metal. The car seems to provide a moral soundproofing that renders the normal rules of human interaction null and void, and road rage, the default setting.  

This anonymous aggression is driving’s answer to online comment sections. I can only guess that our windscreens create just enough detachment from reality for people to feel comfortable with unleashing behaviour that would be unthinkable in a face-to-face interaction. The problem is, road warriors pilot actual weapons. In the hands of someone in the tight grip of automotive sociopathy, a two-tonne Audi Q7 is considerably more dangerous than an angry tweet.  

It doesn’t take long to need a break from driving, forcing road users to descend into what must be the most depressing place on earth and the seventh circle of driving hell: the motorway service station. I stopped at Leigh Delamere Services recently and, on entry, was nearly rendered unconscious by the stench of the lavatories from a good 60 feet. After a wait that was similar in duration to the construction of Cologne Cathedral, I was rudely served a weak coffee and a sandwich that tasted like it had been assembled from materials found down the back of a radiator. For the privilege, I was charged £10. The irony is exquisite, however. The place that was created to provide welcome refuge from the unpleasantness of motorways has become far more unpleasant than the motorway itself. I’d just keep driving if I were you

And if the current state of things isn’t miserable enough, we can expect the arrival of driverless cars by the end of the year, which will presumably deliver the final blow. Any remaining vestiges of motoring pleasure, dead. Technophiles don’t shut up about how these vehicles will be safer, more efficient, more rational. They will — in other words — remove our autonomy entirely from the equation and take us one step closer to rendering humans completely useless. There will be no more spontaneous decisions to take the scenic route, no more stumbling upon a charming village that you didn’t know existed. Instead, we’ll be passengers in our own cars, transported along predetermined routes by robots that can only ever prioritise efficiency. We’ll be no more than delivered to our destination — like a parcel. The ‘Sunday drive’ will be replaced by the ‘Sunday algorithmic transportation experience’. Even worse, these ‘robo-taxis’ will presumably observe speed limits religiously, making them absolutely insufferable to share the road with. 

I don’t expect we’ll see a return of driving for pleasure. There are too many of us out on the roads, and we’re all too unpleasant to each other. But if we could occupy the roads with a touch more courtesy and dim our lights to something short of nuclear intensity, we might salvage some enjoyment from what has become a modern misery. 

Livros - A Revolução Trump