segunda-feira, 6 de julho de 2026

The Spectator - The tyranny of Pride is coming to an end

 

(personal underlines)

The tyranny of Pride is coming to an end

June is a month most people anticipate for various reasons, it heralding the Isle of Wight Festival, the Summer Solstice and Wimbledon. It’s also a time many of us have come to dread, it being the occasion in which Pride Month is foisted upon a compliant and increasingly resentful population.

What began in San Francisco in 1981 as simply the International Lesbian and Gay Freedom Day Parade has evolved into an entire month of worldwide celebrations chiefly dedicated to the trans movement, and at the expense of actual gay people. This metamorphosis can be seen by the original, simple Rainbow Flag having been supplanted by the chevroned, omnicause standard of the Progress Pride Flag.

Most institutions duly obey, especially progressive-run councils with delusions of grandeur, and amoral corporate bodies who will adopt any fashionable cause if they think there’s money in it. But not this year. This June, some are refusing to signal their obeisance.

The newly-elected Reform council in Gateshead has announced that it will stop flying the Pride flag outside its civic centre and no longer fund future Pride events.

In Havering, on the eastern fringe of Greater London, the Reform council announced the cancellation the Pride flag ceremony on 5 June, the customary date upon which the revised rainbow flag is hoisted and then flown outside the town hall throughout the month. This move is in accordance with the party’s pledge not to fly flags other than the Union flag or the St George’s Cross in council areas it controls.

Meanwhile, across the border, library staff have this week been told by Essex County Council not to promote any events at the county’s 74 libraries that are not related to their daily activities, including Pride. The Reform UK-led council there said it wanted to avoid highlighting ‘any particular groups or themes’ in its institutions.

Naturally, activists and their allies are not happy. A spokesman for Save Our Libraries Essex has called the latter move ‘just bigotry’, adding: ‘What possible reason is there not to display pride promotional material – it’s not as if it’s costing the library service anything – other than pure prejudice?’

Mark Whiley, leader of the Green Party in Havering, said that visible support was still needed, recalling his own recent homophobic experience. ‘I grew up in the borough, and suffered homophobic bullying at school. But it’s starting to creep back. I experienced abuse on the bus by some young people only last year.’

Both reactions are telling in their own way. While homophobia has never gone away, and like most prejudices, never will, it is nothing compared to what it was in most of our lifetimes. The imprisonment this week of two brothers for murdering a civil servant in London in 1984 is a reminder of how common ‘queer bashing’ used to be, when it wasn’t remotely fashionable to be ‘out’. There is no need to campaign for gay visibility today, in an age when the majority of people find homosexuality neither remarkable nor objectionable.

That was also a time before campaigns for gay equality, or organisations such as Stonewall established for that purpose, had become movements orientated towards pushing a trans agenda. This is why many gays regard the rainbow flag in its modern incarnation as a hostile symbol. To them it represents an ideology seemingly happy to see youths castrated or endure mastectomies – because we must believe their confused pleas that they were born in the wrong body.

Most people who dutifully put up the Progress Pride Flags and the attendant paraphernalia every year probably don’t realise this, believing they are merely doing the nice, caring thing. This is where comments from Save Our Libraries Essex come in. Because putting up these symbols is deemed an obvious sign of compassion, it must logically follow that not doing so signifies bigotry and intolerance. That’s the main reason for the ubiquitous presence of these flags every summer: people, especially businesses, are terrified of not flying them. They are scared of the accusations which might ensue – of those which this week in Essex duly have.

The trans lobby understands this fear well. This is why they have been able to push their agenda to such extraordinary lengths and with such bizarre outcomes. London’s Regent Street has in recent years come to resemble a kind of trans version of North Korea, what with its menacing panoply of more than 300 LGBTQI+ flags fluttering for weeks on end, an overbearing reminder to everyone of ‘the cause’.

The events surrounding the jailing of Henry Nowak’s killer have been a lesson in how hyperliberal ideology has managed to seduce so many. In that particular case, the ideology of ‘anti-racism’ was slavishly adopted because many thought it well-intentioned in its desire to eradicate prejudice. Yet it was also an ideology taken up thoughtlessly because everyone feared being tarnished as bigots, because everyone else was complying, because everyone was terrified of not doing so.

Livro - Como surgiu o Universo

 







The Spectator - The Pope’s AI intervention shames our politicians

 


(personal underlines)

The Pope’s AI intervention shames our politicians

I was born into a sternly Presbyterian culture. Politically, I’m more Orange than Donald Trump’s skin tone. But today I am on my knees giving thanks to the Pope.

He has produced the most powerful political document of the year, taking on the greatest challenge of our times. His first encyclical, Magnifica Humanitas, deals with the changes which will be wrought to all our lives by artificial intelligence in the months and years ahead. AI will transform our economies and societies massively and irrevocably; it will change what it means to be human; it may even mark the end of humanity itself. If it takes the Pope to alert us to this revolution then perhaps the Reformation wasn’t such a good idea after all.

The document is deliberately cast as a successor to Leo XIII’s landmark encyclical, Rerum Novarum, published 135 years ago, which outlined a distinctive approach – Catholic Social Thought – to the challenges of industrialisation and the contending ideologies of socialism and free market capitalism.

AI will bring changes to all our lives every bit as transformative as the Industrial Revolution two centuries ago. It is not like any other technological breakthrough – because it is a technology that has the capacity to improve itself, to grow, learn, master and control. The speed at which AI is out-pacing human ingenuity is giddy. Many of us are familiar with Moore’s Law – the observed ability of computer chips to double their processing capacity every two years. Until recently, AI was able to double its ability to complete any human task in a set number of man hours every seven months. Now the time taken for that same – exponential – leap in power is just three months.

The tasks which AI can accomplish are not just rapid mathematical reasoning, or super-powered Google searches or instantaneous animations. AI can write computer code faster and more fluently than even the most brilliant engineers. The recently developed Mythos model pioneered by Anthropic can hack any online platform – from national defence infrastructure to our entire banking system – with a speed, ferocity and completeness that only a handful of humans can comprehend, never mind match.

But AI is not simply about speed of light advances on flickering screens. It can have a devastating impact on the physical world. AI-enabled breakthroughs – like protein folding and other life science discoveries – have the potential not just to banish disease but also, in the hands of a halfway competent biology graduate, to create lethal pathogens. AI has already transformed warfare. Ukraine’s drone defences are enabled by the processing of data which can overcome Russia’s massive superiority in manpower. America and Israel’s AI-driven precision targeting can vaporise named individuals at a commander’s whim. Indeed, one of the Pope’s arguments is that the race to establish military superiority over any potential enemy will mean kill-chains having to operate at such speed that the time and space for human judgment will be eliminated. It will be annihilation by algorithm. The debate over what counts as a just war will have been rendered obsolete by the kill or be killed imperatives of the just-in-time war.

Of course, the potential for AI to transform mankind’s earthbound condition for good exists alongside its potential for devastation. In his essay ‘Machines of Loving Grace’, the Anthropic CEO Dario Amodei outlines how the technology could curb disease, prolong lives, transform productivity, empower the poor, make public services unprecedentedly efficient and responsive, and even strengthen our democratic systems. Some of the hopes he invests in the technology may be naive, but its transformative power is not in doubt. Which is why it is so depressing that while ideas of huge consequence are being considered thoughtfully by engineers and priests, our political leaders – the current custodians of our democratic systems – have so little to say about a technology which affects us all.

Those who have to worry about deploying their own money, rather than the public’s, have certainly noticed. The valuation attached to frontier AI companies, and the chipmakers like Nvidia on whose computing power they depend, is only growing. Investors recognise that these technologies are remaking the world of work. Both Anthropic and its rival OpenAI, alongside Elon Musk’s SpaceX, have initial public offerings of their shares coming in the next few months. Each on its own would be the biggest magnet of new investment in history; together they mark a hinge point in capitalism.

Investors know that companies which are fastest to adopt and deploy AI tools effectively will secure huge competitive advantages: the ability to respond to consumers, upgrade products and improve goods and services at celestial speed. It is a forward revolution with, as yet, no means of restraint. The consequences have not so far been properly grasped or articulated by most of our serving politicians, and certainly not in the UK.

That is why Tony Blair has been right to upbraid the Labour party for the stunning triviality of its response to our times.

Only last week Rachel Reeves made an emergency fiscal statement to the house, responding to the consequences of war in the Middle East. The most significant headline measure was a VAT cut on fairs, zoos and theme parks. A titanic battle has been raging between a theocratic state sponsoring terror networks bent on acquiring nuclear capability and the world’s pre-eminent military and economic power. That war has choked off the world’s oil supplies, undermined the principle of global freedom of navigation and undermined food security. And our finance minister’s response is to shave a few quid off a day out at Alton Towers.

At least when Ed Davey careered down multiple waterslides during the election he acknowledged it was a gimmick. Reeves appears to think it’s up there with the Marshall Plan as a wartime reconstruction programme. We may be picnicking on the edge of a volcano, but the meal deal itself has never been better value.

If the Chancellor’s response to a war raging now is so pettily inconsequential, how on earth do we think she will prepare us for the shocks about to hit us which are even more profound and long-lasting?

AI’s ability to perform almost all basic clerical research and analytical tasks at a speed which no human can match and with a level of sophistication few could outdo is likely to render most entry-level professional jobs redundant. The basic work of accountants, lawyers, management consultants and bankers could be done better, faster and much, much cheaper by machinesall with the barest of human supervision. That change is not a generation away. It is coming within months and years and will hit a generation already alienated from capitalism and democracy by the weight of student loans, the cost of housing and the comfort in which elderly elites now live.

AI feasts on past human achievements – the knowledge and creativity set down in all our texts, compositions and philosophy – and extracts the value it wants from the labour of ages. Those who value human creativity understandably seek to protect their intellectual property from this modern-day technological version of the enclosure system. But, just as in the past, the productivity gains from surrendering old forms of ownership to new will prove seductive to those nations looking for growth. New battles loom between the advocates of an artisan economy – from Elton John down to humble magazine writers – who wish to safeguard their work, and those with capital and connections who are invested in large language models that promise to metabolise past creations into endless new wonders.

These questions – about the very nature of economic activity in the future – sit alongside the challenges and opportunities of re-making not just plant and animal DNA but also redesigning humankind in the embryo and beyond, as well as the wisdom or other-wise of making health and other services more efficient at the cost of privacy, dignity and other human limits.

Decisions at the moment about where this technology is going and how it might be deployed are concentrated, alongside awesome financial power, in perilously few hands. Those who steer the major AI labs have a power approaching that of the Oppenheimers and Fermis of the past, but they are operating not as agents of democracies but ambitious entrepreneurs locked in a race for personal mastery. It is fortunate that the best of them – Anthropic’s Dario Amodei and DeepMind’s Demis Hassabis – are deeply thoughtful, morally serious people. But we cannot depend on the loving grace of a few gifted engineers to shape all our futures.

As Pope Leo himself put it: ‘AI tends to amplify the power of those who already possess economic resources, expertise and access to data. In light of the common good and the universal destination of goods, this raises serious concerns, since small but highly influential groups can shape information and consumption patterns, influence democratic processes and steer economic dynamics to their own advantage, undermining social justice and solidarity among peoples.’

In this debate we need politicians who are capable, in Gramsci’s terms, of pessimism of the intellect and optimism of the will. Who can grasp the scale of what may be upon us, and are also capable of building the alliances, structures and public support necessary to harness this technology for good. In the UK, precious few politicians have even begun to enter this debate beyond uttering banalities and bromides. Rishi Sunak is one, and his establishment of the AI Safety (now Security) Institute during his time in office was genuinely farsighted. He grasped the need to align this technology with human values if its benefits were to be realised. In the current government, Liz Kendall and Kanishka Narayan are alert to the issues. But the figure in Labour who had thought most deeply about the consequences of AI for democracy (Morgan McSweeney) was cast out of government for the sin of being too ‘factional’ – by men and women who know no other world than that of factions and in-fighting.

This moment in our national life is, above all, a time for seriousness. Yet our government fiddles with bus fares and funfair prices. And Reform, the opposition party which currently leads in the polls, offers ludicrously unworkable tax cuts – and social media spats between its leaders – for our entertainment. This is candy-floss economics and coconut-shy politics while the world is transformed at a pace and in a manner unseen for centuries.

On behalf of our political class, as a repentant member of that congregation, let me recall the words not of Pope Leo but another great churchman: we have left undone those things which we ought to have done, and we have done those things which we ought not have done, and there is no health in us.

The Spectator - Belfast and the truth about ‘alien cultures’

 

(personal underlines)

Belfast and the truth about ‘alien cultures’

Footage of the attack in north Belfast was widely shared on social media (Credit: BBC)

How would you describe a culture where women are flogged in public for ‘inappropriate dress’? A culture where one woman suffered 40 lashes from a leather whip for the crime of wearing trousers and a T-shirt? A culture where a man who lies with a man risks being whipped a hundred times before being put in a dank cell for five years? A culture where apostasy is considered such an abominable sin that even a heavily pregnant woman could be sentenced to death for supposedly committing it?

Personally, I would call such a culture ‘alien’. In fact, I would call it backward, regressive, inhuman and morally inferior to the freer, more forgiving culture we Brits are lucky to live in. Why, then, was the unionist MP Jim Allister rebuked in the Commons yesterday for suggesting that the bloodletting maniac in Belfast heralded from an ‘alien culture’? For all of the primitive punishments listed above, all that state barbarism, took place in the nation where he was reportedly born: Sudan.

It was Hilary Benn, the Northern Ireland secretary, who took Mr Allister to task. What will be done to ‘stop the importation of an alien culture’, Allister asked? Benn’s political correctness radar pinged. ‘I’m sorry the honourable gentleman used the term “alien culture”, because what exactly is he referring to?’, he said, with more than a little sniffiness. Okay then, I’ll bite. I’ll tell Mr Benn what I think Mr Allister was referring to.

For 30 years, up to the Sudanese Revolution of 2019, Sudan was governed by a system of Islamist savagery. Religious diktat was ruthlessly enforced. Women were treated like cattle, homosexuals like godless filth. Even now, after the repeal of some of those Sharia laws, sodomy remains a crime, punishable by life in jail. Following that 30-year experiment in medieval despotism, Sudan descended into a civil war that the UN has called a ‘war of atrocities’: massacres, hunger, desperation.

There you go, Mr Benn: that’s what people mean when they say ‘alien culture’. They mean a culture that feels foreign, unsettling, morally deficient. We await more information about the suspect in Belfast, but according to police he is 30 years old. This means he will have become a man in a nation where women were subjected to feudal violence, where ex-Muslims were threatened with being hanged by the neck, and where gays were considered so vile they were thrown in jail. The good people of Belfast are well within their rights to ask whether men from such a culture should be living on their streets.

Benn’s comment sums up everything that’s gone wrong in the political class. It confirms that the cult of relativism still swirls in establishment circles. To the modern left there is no greater thoughtcrime than to make a moral distinction between cultures. It is tantamount to heresy in their world to suggest that some cultures enjoy fewer virtues than others. Mercifully, they won’t give you a lashing with a leather whip for such sacrilegious utterances, but they will give you a tongue lashing. That suspicion will hang in the air: ‘Are you racist?’

Moral judgement is bigotry now. It is seen as suspect to celebrate the West’s enlightened way of life over the benighted ignorance some nations tragically stew in. Let’s turn it back on Mr Benn. How would you describe the culture of Afghanistan, where women are cloaked and gagged in public? Or of Saudi Arabia, where it is against the law to publicly proclaim the good news of Jesus Christ? Or of Eritrea, where homosexuals are frequently rounded up by the state and subjected to horrifying violence?

I’d call them alien cultures. And inferior cultures. It is better to live in a society like ours where women can wear what they want, where you can worship any god or none, and where the state leaves gays alone. It isn’t racist for everyday Brits to bristle at the arrival of thousands of young men from cultures that force women to cover up their sinful flesh and which considers it legitimate to asphyxiate non-believers in Allah.

I suspect Benn’s attitude would be different if he were a 15-year-old girl in a working-class town who woke up one morning to find 800 men from alien cultures in the hotel at the end of the road. Indeed, the government expressly warns against travel to Afghanistan, Eritrea and Sudan, yet then it lets in young men full of swagger from those very nations. It isn’t these men’s ‘race’ Brits are worried about – the vast majority of Britons are perfectly fine with our multiracial society. No, it’s their culture.

For how much longer will working-class communities have to suffer the consequences of state failure and bourgeois virtue? ‘Refugees welcome!’, cry the activist classes in their leafy suburbs, while in less well-off Britain the mass arrival of these ‘refugees’ is leading to discomfort, tension, assault, even murder. The social experiment of moral non-judgmentalism has been a catastrophe. Time to end it.

Livros comprados

 


Almoço - João Rocha (Rochinha)

 Em 03.07.2026, almocei (finalmente) 

com João Rocha (Rochinha) da UN, na antiga Casa Marítima. 







sábado, 4 de julho de 2026

Cartoon - Jim Unger (Herman)

 









Música - Where the Shadows Lie / Nolwa Mahtar (Rings of Power - Season 1)

 



https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KqC0YxJROP0&list=RDKqC0YxJROP0&start_radio=1




https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ifPARHaV0pE&list=RDifPARHaV0pE&start_radio=1

Desporto - VetVals (carta ao Luis Costa)

 Introito


"O SuperMario tem mais de 80? 🤔" 

1 - Se o Super Mario é o Mário Guerra ele, à semelhança do "125 mal pesado”, “Fritz”, “Batatinha”, etc. (que sou eu!) só devolvemos bolas ao 1º toque depois de TU tentares  - IN-DI-VI-DU-AL-MEN-TE ! -  meter bolas ao 1º toque. 

Luis, a sério, nunca notaste?


"ou mesmo tu quando esporadicamente devolves os serviços?  👀”

(Já respondido)




Agora a sério!

2 - Luis, amigo, caríssimo, angélico,  devotado e voluntarioso apoiante de quem se lesiona ou fica por momentos incapacitado de actuar (que bom que é sentir-te sempre solidário com quem se lesiona), tu nunca, mas mesmo nunca notaste que as devoluções a que te referes apenas acontecem porque TU DESENCADEIAS o processo? 

Já falei contigo e tentei explicar 234 vezes que não é por isso que gostamos mais ou menos de ti, que te respeitamos mais ou menos. Não tens necessidade de, através das sistemáticas, aborrecidas, inconvenientes, atabalhoadas, individualistas e chatíssimas tentativas de meter bolas ao 1º toque de te anunciares como “MALTA, ESTOU AQUI". 
Tu estás sempre presente, sobretudo pela tua forma genuína de estar, pela amizade, pela tua solidariedade para quem se lesiona, pela tua sempre completa disponibilidade para ajudar. Tu és um gajo único! COMO PESSOA!
Não tens necessidade de, através de um gesto individualista, e contrariando completamente o espírito do grupo, alterares o status quo. AQUI, ÉS UM CHATO!

Se tu não tentares meter bolas ao 1º toque, NINGUÉM tentará meter porque o espírito deste grupo é jogar normalmente, fazendo os 3 toques. Sempre foi, desde 1973 quando foi fundado. Simples!

Outra coisa, e eu isso sempre compreendi e sempre alertei todos os que não sabem, é se alguém por uma razão fisiológica (…) ao ver a bola em cima de si, repentinamente, ou por um remate ou por outra situação de jogo perfeitamente compreensível, não tem outra solução e reage de tal maneira que faz com que a bola vá directamente para o campo adversário (Luis Miranda, “ring a Bell”??). Ou seja, sem dolo - perdão-, sem intenção...

Ora este tipo de situações, se é inopinada para quem praticou a um determinado nível ou para quem tem todas as suas capacidades operacionais, muito mais difícil de resolver será para quem não as tenha. Mas isso é quando acontece - PORQUE ACONTECE (Luis Miranda, another Bell”??). 

Eu explico: uma coisa é premeditadamente devolver a bola ao 1º toque para o campo adversário. Outra coisa é, por uma razão fisiológica (…), ou por uma razão de jogo (remate violento sem defesa controlada, recepção defeituosa, situação de jogo descontrolada com um segundo ou terceiro toque mal dirigido, etc) a bola ir parar ao campo adversário (Luis Miranda, still online?).

Já agora, Luis, que não “O Costa” mas o Miranda, se vamos começar a desculpabilizar tudo e todos como temos assistido nos últimos anos na nossa sociedade contemporânea, acabamos mal. Aqui, neste núcleo, temos tentado manter o nível e a sensatez, como muito bem sabes e já evidenciaste em mais de um momento!

Para concluir: 

A ideia deste núcleo não é enviar serviços meticulosamente colocados para GANHAR ou para evidenciar que se sabe colocar um serviço (…), não é devolver bolas ao 1º toque para GANHAR ou para demonstrar que estamos ali. Se durante o jogo isso acontecer, parabéns. É esse, sim, o objectivo. 

Reflexão - Já pensaste que se, por absurdo, tu colocares os teus serviços meticulosa e superiormente de tal forma que marquem ponto até aos 15,  ou colocares as bolas ao 1º toque de tal forma que ganhes as jogadas todas, tu jogaste sozinho? Curioso não é? Acho que os outros todos não iriam gostar…

Vamos tentar jogar todos com todos, sem truques. E se algo acontecer por inopinado ou sem controlo, todos o reconheceremos.

Até terça!

segunda-feira, 29 de junho de 2026

Observador - Isto vem tudo no Huxley (Gonçalo Poças

 

(sublinhados pessoais)

Isto vem tudo no Huxley

Onde é que nós queremos chegar, afinal, com este entusiasmo em torno de ideias que anunciam resultados sem caminhos, sem esforço, sem sacrifício, sem dor, sem perda?

No tempo em que as crianças jogavam à bola na rua, por entre lancis, passeios, pedras da calçada levantadas, alcatrão, automóveis, camiões, portões de garagem amolgados pela força dos petardos lançados com bolas esfarrapadas pelo asfalto ou balizas feitas com calhaus, medidas com passos, havia uma série de regras altamente falíveis que eram seguidas à risca. Uma delas era a da validade dos golos quando as bolas iam altas. Levantava-se uma grande discussão sobre se o guarda-redes lá chegaria em teoria, simulando-se uma trave horizontal erguida à medida não de uma medida regulamentar, mas da altura de quem jogava à baliza – daí que, quanto mais pequeno o guarda-redes, melhor, porque se reduzia automaticamente a altura da baliza (sendo que pequeno e gordo seria a medida perfeita do guarda-redes, que acaba por transformar a baliza de pedras numa barreira intransponível). As discussões levantavam-se, não raras vezes acabavam à pancada, num processo de libertação hormonal e manifestação de força saudável, que fazia, a curto prazo, mais forte quem batia e, a longo prazo, quem levava.

Lembrei-me disto numa destas madrugadas, enquanto a selecção portuguesa de futebol era massacrada pelos colombianos neste evento de publicidade a que chamam Mundial de Futebol, quando um golo aos olhos de todos válido foi anulado à Colômbia. Aquela aberração a que chamam VAR, vídeo-árbitro, uma máquina que oferece imagens virtuais que apuram ao milímetro a verdade desportiva, descobriu a ponta de um dedo colombiano para lá da linha Maginot virtual que separava o último defesa português do seu guarda-redes. Como sou uma daquelas almas que já gostou mais de futebol do que de uma equipa, e não sou totalmente imune à nostalgia, achei que o golo ia ser validado. Não havia nada, entre o directo e a repetição, que indiciasse um fora-de-jogo. Mas lá surgiu a linha virtual e a Colômbia acabou por empatar um jogo que merecia ganhar.

Há, de facto, qualquer coisa de profundamente revelador num golo anulado porque a biqueira de uma bota ficou dois centímetros para lá da linha. Os jogadores fizeram tudo bem, o estágio explodiu, as gentes entram em êxtase, outras em profunda tristeza, tudo parece encaminhado para a revelação da Humanidade, e eis que uma máquina nos diz que não, que não foi bem assim. Não discuto sequer a regra, a tecnologia, a justiça real que tudo isto traz a um jogo que é, ainda por cima, cada vez menos um jogo e mais um mercado de capitais e transacções. Mas há aqui, em tudo isto, alguma coisa que nos fala sobre o tempo que vivemos e naquilo em que nos estamos a tornar ou em que nos tornámos já.

O que é que se espera do Homem que não aceita a imperfeição, o erro, a margem de erro, a ideia de que a vida é um conjunto infinito de zonas cinzentas oscilantes pela decisão humana que prevalece sobre a ideia de uma medição absoluta? O que é que se pode esperar de uma sociedade que exige a limpeza total, a exactidão total, o controlo total, a perfeição absoluta? Esta é a época das canetas de emagrecimento, afinal, uma revolução real que, procurando ser justo, melhorou, por enquanto, a vida de milhares de pessoas e representa um avanço extraordinário da ciência. Mas onde é que nós queremos chegar, afinal, com este entusiasmo em torno de ideias que anunciam resultados sem caminhos, sem esforço, sem sacrifício, sem dor, sem perda? Por mais sedutora que seja a ideia da perda de peso sem fome, será inevitável que cheguemos a outros sítios: à ambição de aprender sem estudar, de enriquecer sem poupar, de criar relações duradouras sem compromisso, de ter sucesso sem fracassar, de obter reconhecimento sem mérito, se ser feliz sem sofrer. Talvez nenhuma outra civilização tenha investido tanto na eliminação de qualquer forma de atrito pessoal, ao mesmo tempo em que se desmorona em atritos permanentes, sociais e pessoais.

Não digo que isto seja incompreensível. Não é. Durante séculos procurámos combater a doença, a fome, a pobreza, a dor, e felizmente vencemos muitas desses obstáculos, que nos permitiam salvaguardar o valor da vida. Não há romantismo nenhum no sofrimento, como é evidente. Mas há muito romantismo e demasiada utopia num mundo que luta pela abolição total da dor, até ao ponto em que o Homem passa a ser avaliado exclusivamente sob o ponto de vista da sua perfeição ou da sua utilidade. Talvez seja esse o grande esquecimento do nosso tempo: a confusão entre sofrimento e mal absoluto, o varrimento para debaixo de um tapete da ideia de que há um sofrimento que destrói e há outro que forma vontades e carácter. É por isso que o verdadeiro perigo em que vivemos não seja o vídeo-árbitro ou as canetas de emagrecimento, por exemplo, mas a filosofia que os permitiu: a ideia de que qualquer obstáculo é um defeito da realidade e de que a boa sociedade será aquela onde nada custa, nada dói e nada exige. E onde se é, afinal, menos livre porquanto deixamos de estar aptos a fazer escolhas. O Admirável Mundo Novo é este: a troca da liberdade pelo conforto, não pela força, mas pelo prazer. Permitam-me que não aprecie.


Reflexão - Tempos difíceis (LBC)

 E o PCP, quem nomeará? E o BE? E o 1343? Que emoção!...




Livro - La Tyrannie Sportive (Jean-Marie Brohm)

Livro inusual nos tempos de hoje, ilustrativo e cruel sobre o mundo do Desporto. Todos os "adeptos" e os que aderem de tempos a tempos ao desporto (...) deveriam lê-lo.

 














The Spectator - Don’t pretend to like football

 (personal underlines)


Don’t pretend to like football

I spend my weekends following a club through rain, traffic, expense and occasional humiliation. You don't.

(Photo by Michael Regan - The FA/The FA via Getty Images)

It was a few moments before the whistle blew on the opening match of the 2006 World Cup when a text message arrived from a colleague. ‘Well, here we go!’ it read. I rolled my eyes, slipped my phone back into my pocket, and left the message unanswered. 

Why the grumpiness? Because the message came from a man who normally took no interest whatsoever in the game, except to occasionally mock people like me for being daft enough to enjoy a ‘silly game with silly men kicking a ball around’. Yet here he was, transformed by the arrival of the World Cup into an enthusiastic student of… ‘footie’. 

He wasn’t alone. Another football-sceptic colleague became inordinately invested in the office World Cup sweepstake, while a third underwent an overnight conversion from someone who barely knew football existed into someone wandering around the office whistling that bloody Baddiel and Skinner song. I’m not going to lie, I resented all three of them enormously. 

Football supporters can be strangely possessive about the game. Perhaps it’s inevitable. We spend years accumulating knowledge, building rituals, establishing loyalties and proving, mostly to ourselves, that we belong. We endure long stretches of boredom, disappointment and frustration for occasional moments of joy. We learn to ignore the bafflement and contempt of people who simply don’t understand why any of it matters

And somewhere along the way, we start drawing distinctions between the people who genuinely love football, and the people who seem interested only when football becomes fashionable. Every fan eventually develops an instinctive suspicion of two familiar figures: the glory-hunter and the recent convert. 

The World Cup is a magnet for both. Every four years, social media and pubs fill with people who haven’t watched a match since the previous tournament but suddenly feel compelled to deliver loud and confident opinions, often based on remarkably little insight.  

For those who spend their weekends following a club through rain, traffic, expense and occasional humiliation, this can be irritating. It feels a bit like standing next to someone at a concert who only knows the band’s biggest hit – the song you’ve heard so often you can’t stand it anymore. They’re enjoying themselves, which ought to be enough, but somehow it isn’t because it feels as though they’re claiming membership of a club without paying the subscription. 

Of course, this protective instinct is only sometimes justified. At its worst, it becomes little more than boorish gatekeeping, because there are actually plenty of perfectly valid reasons why someone might choose to engage with football only during the World Cup. The tournament is short, self-contained and easy to understand. The stakes are obvious. Unlike the long slog of a league season, or the complicated arithmetic of European competitions, the drama is immediate and the maths reassuringly simple. 

National-team rivalries are often easier to grasp than the tangled histories of club football. And while commentators occasionally lapse into patronising clichés about some African nations being ‘just pleased to be here’, international football does make it easier to connect with the romance of the underdog. Defending champions crash out in the group stage. Host nations fail to reach the knockout rounds. Unfashionable teams eliminate heavy favourites. It’s free to watch and it can all start to feel intoxicating. 

And just as there are good reasons for non-football fans to enjoy the World Cup, there are reasons for committed football fans to dislike it. Every supporter winces when one of their club’s players launches into a 50–50 challenge during a World Cup tie. We watch through our fingers, calculating how many months of the club season might disappear with a badly timed injury. 

We tend to notice the shift from a sporting event built around supporters into a corporate spectacle built around consumers. We recognise that organisers increasingly seem less interested in traditional fans than in sponsors, tourists and television numbers. Perhaps we notice these things more readily in international football because they are easier to spot there than in the club game we follow with such blind intimacy. 

Which raises the uncomfortable possibility: when we sneer at the people who flock to football every four years, are we really sneering at ourselves? We’re all part-timers sometimes. I usually get excited about the Olympic Games or the World Snooker Championship final, but I pay zero attention to those sports the rest of the year. I lap up the beef of payment day in Four In A Bed but I don’t bother with the other four episodes. 

And the first football match I ever watched was the 1979 FA Cup Final. As I sat down that afternoon, I wasn’t a football supporter at all. I was just another newcomer, probably at least as annoying as my texting colleague.  

domingo, 28 de junho de 2026

Desporto - Portugal - Colombia (futebol Camp. mundo)


1 - Estranho, muito estranho...

2 - Tudo como dantes,...quartel etc.

 


The spectator - The lessons from Henry Nowak’s murder

 


(personal underlines)

The lessons from Henry Nowak’s murder

I wonder how many readers have ever heard of the name Kriss Donald? The young Glaswegian was just 15 years old in 2004 when he was kidnapped by a local gang of Pakistani men. The group selected him because he was white and they had some beef with a group of white men with whom Donald had no connection at all. After driving around for hours, the gang – led by one Imran Shahid – stabbed Donald repeatedly before dousing his body in petrol and setting him alight.

I also wonder how many readers have heard of the name Tony Timpa? The white, unarmed Texan was 32 in 2016 when he suffered some sort of mental breakdown in public. Instead of assisting him, police arrived at the scene and restrained him in such a way that he died. Bodycam footage released three years later – thanks to pressure from local journalists – showed officers kneeling on Timpa as he complained that he couldn’t breathe and mocking him as he lay dying.

I ask these questions because I can predict with a high degree of certainty that neither Kriss Donald nor Tony Timpa are household names. By contrast the names of Stephen Lawrence and George Floyd have been in our collective consciousness for 33 and six years respectively. There was a period after the death of both when it was heavily implied – to put it mildly – that all white people in Britain and America bore collective responsibility for both men’s deaths.

Despite racist killings being exceptionally rare, both the Lawrence and Floyd cases were used by politicians, the media and lobbying groups as a lens through which to analyse and indict entire populations. After the murder of Lawrence, white Britons were made to feel as if they had killed him themselves. Ditto with white Americans after the death of Floyd.

In the wake of Lawrence’s murder and the undoubted police failures that followed, this country saw the publication of the Macpherson Report – perhaps the single most consequential judicial inquiry in modern British history. Among other things, it gave us the term ‘institutional racism’, which has dominated modern political discourse ever since.

It should be clear by now that our societies choose what we wish to remember. Or, to put it more accurately, some cases seem to be selected for us as learning moments or opportunities to push a wider societal point. Anniversaries of the Lawrence murder are marked with services at St Martin-in-the-Fields, attended by prominent politicians such as Keir Starmer. US senators and presidential candidates – as well as our own current Prime Minister – memorably ‘took the knee’ among other gestures to commemorate the death of Floyd.

By contrast there have never been any remotely similar campaigns to remember Kriss Donald or Tony Timpa. Why? Why should it be that some racist killings and deaths in police custody are commemorated while others are not?

I doubt if any reader can name even one white British girl who, over the course of the past three decades, was abducted, tortured and sexually abused by men of mainly Pakistani origin in this country. These thousands of girls were chosen – as repeated inquiries and court judgments have stated – for the colour of their skin. But Starmer has never taken the knee for them. There have been no national services of remembrance, or anniversaries marked.

Which brings me to the murder of 18-year-old Henry Nowak and the justified upsurge of anger which has greeted the conviction and sentencing of the man who killed him: Vickrum Digwa. There are many responses. Some people have called for there to be a ban on Sikhs being allowed to carry the traditional kirpan knife. There are pros and cons to this argument. Sikh leaders seem to me to have been largely commendable in their condemnation of the actions of Digwa. Others have pointed out that the weapon used by Nowak’s weapons-obsessed killer was not the kirpan but a larger knife that no one has any right to carry around. On the other hand, several perfectly reasonable and tolerant countries have banned their Sikh population from carrying such weapons, whether they are deemed to be a tenet of their faith or not.

But the larger point is at risk of being missed in all this. A direct line can be drawn between the casual cruelty and inhumanity shown by police officers to young Nowak in his dying moments and the inquiry into the murder of Stephen Lawrence. For three decades the police have lived under the fear of any further claims of ‘institutional racism’. Police training and changes in the law have made it incumbent on officers to believe anyone who claims to have been the victim of a racist crime. That is how Digwa, and even his mother, were initially able to get away with their vicious lies so that Digwa’s victim struggled for life on a cold street pavement, in handcuffs, being read his legal rights as he lay dying.

I have no idea whether the arresting officers are callous by nature or not. But I do know – we all know – that they are the products of post-Macpherson policing in which few crimes are regarded as worthy of serious attention unless the ‘R’ word is introduced into the equation. The officers at the scene were literally blinded by prejudice.

And we also know that ‘racism’ has, for 30 years, been an almost entirely one-way street. Only someone who is a minority can be a victim of racism and only someone who has the misfortune to be from the majority racial group can be the perpetrator of it. Even if the accused – and entirely innocent person so charged – is bleeding out in front of you.

I get the sense that the weather is about to change on all of this. About time.

The Spectator - Vickrum Digwa is no Sikh

 

(personal underlines)

Vickrum Digwa is no Sikh

Vickrum Digwa (Credit: CPS)

British Sikhs have long been considered a model minority and an integration success story. The core teachings of Sikhism promote equality for all human beings. This is not merely in word, but deed. Go to any gurdwara anywhere in the world and you can get a free vegetarian meal, regardless of who you are.

Over the years, Britain has made legal accommodations for Sikhs. Turbaned Sikhs have an exemption from wearing a helmet on a motorbike, famously satirised in the British sitcom Only Fools and Horses with the ‘Del Boy turban helmet’. Baptised Sikhs (Amritdharis) are provided an exemption (and a defence) on religious grounds, under the Offensive Weapons Act 2019, to carry a ceremonial knife, known as the kirpan, as part of five symbols of their faith – colloquially known as the 5Ks. This is by no means unique to a minority of Sikhs, an exemption is also in place for the Scottish Dirk/Sgian Dubh as part of legitimate Highland dress. The 5Ks, stem from Guru Gobind Singh’s (the 10th Guru) stand against Mughal tyranny – and the kirpan is designated for self-defence purposes only.

But decades of good will for British Sikhs has been damaged because of the action of one dangerous and dishonest Sikh heritage monster: Vickrum Digwa, who killed finance student Henry Nowak last December in Southampton, with a 21cm Persian blade known as a pesh-kabz. On Monday, Digwa – a man with a ‘weapons obsession’ – was jailed for at least 21 years.

After stabbing Nowak, Digwa filmed his victim as he sat on the floor bleeding to death. When the police arrived at the scene, they handcuffed Nowak, not Digwa, because Digwa had falsely accused his victim of racism. The police watchdog is investigating why Nowak was handcuffed and arrested while dying. The bodycam footage is difficult to watch. As he was dying, Nowak, said: ‘I can’t breathe’. These words were also used by George Floyd in the United States, as he lay dying in the street. The resulting Black Lives Matter backlash from that incident led to Keir Starmer and Angela Rayner taking the knee in solidarity. Although Starmer posted about the case, he has not yet, in this case, taken the knee.

Allegations of two-tier justice are warranted in this case. Why was Digwa, rather than Nowak, believed by officers? The allegation of ‘racism’ appears to have been a trump card deployed by Digwa to persuade police that he was the victim. For a minute or two – the final moments of Nowak’s life – it worked. Why?

Digwa, of course, does not represent Sikhs. His murderous actions are a corruption of everything Sikhs believe in. But the fact that Digwa was carrying a kirpan has led some to believe that the law needs to be changed.

MPs from three political parties are now calling for the kirpan to be banned. Conservative party chairman Kevin Hollinrake MP said his party is reviewing the religious exemption for Sikhs. But why stop at just reviewing the kirpan? What about the Dirk/Sgian Dubh? After all, the Sgian Dubh has been used in at least one reported murder case. And Britain’s knife crime epidemic is about far more than kirpans. In 2023-24, there were a total of 262 knife homicides recorded for all age groups. The majority of these (42 per cent) were carried out with ordinary kitchen knives, which are easy for most people to get hold of.

Does the law need changing? It is worth remembering that the kirpan wasn’t used in the murder. Digwa’s assertion that the 21cm Persian dagger, which was used to kill Nowak, was part of his faith was outright rejected in court. The law, then, is already serving its purpose. This appalling case should not lead to a crackdown on innocent Sikhs.

In a rare moment of honesty, the otherwise dishonest Digwa admitted after he stabbed Nowak: ‘I’m a fool’. He is right. Digwa has single handedly caused serious damage to the good reputation of Britain’s 525,865 majority law abiding Sikh community. We are facing what feels like collective punishment for his heinous and cowardly crime.

The online pile-on against Sikhs on platforms like X is unprecedented. If we had an equivalent to Tell MAMA, the Community Security Trust or the British Muslim Trust, there would no doubt be many news reports about the levels of online hatred Sikhs are facing for the behaviour of one rotten apple.

In his sentencing remarks at Southampton Crown Court, His Honour Judge William Mousley KC said, ‘Your [Digwa’s] actions have stirred up racial tension in Southampton and across the country which have made many Sikhs worried about their own safety even though they have done absolutely nothing wrong.’

Online protagonists not only want to ban the kirpan, some also wish to, ‘DEPORT ALL SIKHS’. Yet Digwa’s actions no more represent me than the actions of a white murderer represent others of the perpetrator’s race.

People are right to express anger about what has happened. But much of the commentary about this tragedy borders on the absurd and constitutes a crude vilification of all Sikhs. Most Sikhs I’ve spoken to in recent days unequivocally condemn Digwa and his family. They are all expressing solidarity with the Nowak family. Don’t judge Sikhs based on the actions of a reprehensible individual like Vickrum Digwa.