World

For all but the most harried journalist motivated by a need to pay off the mortgage, the annual G20 summit – being held this weekend in Buenos Aires – is typically viewed as a perfect cure for insomnia. Who will stand next to whom in the family photo? Will the wording of a final statement be agreed by all leaders before the official deadline? Yawn yawn yawn. However, there is an exception to every rule. And yesterday’s opening ceremony proved to be just that. First, a hot mic picked up parts of a tense conversation between the French President and Saudi Crown Prince. While hardly a slanging match, it was

Marine Le Pen spent last Saturday commenting on the scenes from the Champs-Elysées as the latest Gilets Jaunes demonstration turned violent. She also had the opportunity to respond to Christophe Castaner, the interior minister who, as cobbles rained down on the heads of the riot police, accused Le Pen of inciting the far-right to go on the rampage. Le Pen rejected the allegations, saying she had done no such thing; and anyway, as far as the National Rally leader was concerned, the people running amok in the capital weren’t from the far-right. Le Pen’s view was endorsed by Marion Maréchal, who unlike her aunt, chose to witness the latest manifestation of

It would be the understatement of the century to say that the normally constructive and cordial relationship between the United States and Germany was experiencing a few hiccups in the age of Donald Trump. Notwithstanding talk about mutual respect and friendship during shared photo sessions, Trump and German Chancellor Angela Merkel are not exactly two peas in a pod. In fact, the two leaders are polar opposites in temperament, experience, and worldview: Trump is the loud-mouth, condescending, bull-in-a-china shop from New York who campaigned on burning America’s political system to the ground; Merkel is the consummate European politician deeply attached to multilateralism and extremely devoted to the rules-based international order.

Baroness Trumpington has died at the age of 96. In February last year, Bruce Anderson paid tribute to her here: To the Western Isles, or at least to its embassy in Belgravia. Boisdale restaurant always claims to be extra-territorial. There was an awards ceremony, and the principal recipient was a remarkable old girl. Ninety-four years into an extraordinarily diverse life, Jean Trumpington is one of the funniest people I have ever met. She is also one of the bravest. She was born in easy circumstances, a child of the affluent upper middle classes, and the first disruption occurred when her mother lost a lot of money in the Great Crash.

Donald Trump might change his view on many things but he has been completely consistent on Brexit. He saw the referendum as a great vote of confidence in the nation state, a declaration that Britain was thinking bigger than the EU and ready to do better deals with the world. America stood ready to conduct a free trade deal, he said, and Britain would be at “the front of the queue”. But his officials were appalled to see the direction Mrs May then took with her Chequers deal, saying that it meant the UK had chosen to stick with EU rules and regulations. Ever since, this has been the message

For this week’s challenge you were invited to submit poems by Donald Trump. The Beautiful Poetry of Donald Trump, which is the brainchild of Rob Sears, represents the fruits of Mr Sears’s efforts to find evidence of the president’s sensitive, poetic side in his tweets and transcripts. The verses in the book are stitched together from Trump’s own words, and promise to reveal ‘a hitherto hidden Donald, who may surprise and delight both students and critics alike’. There were some excellent candidates for volume two in an entry in which haikus were especially popular —‘Terrible! Just found/Obama had my wires tapped./McCarthyism!’ (John O’Byrne) — and which saw our poet-president draw

My guess is President Trump’s team spent hours, maybe days, fretting over how to word his statement on US-Saudi relations after the grisly murder of Jamal Khashoggi, and then the man himself just did it. A little of the old genius razzle dazzle – the work of a moment. ‘It could very well be that the Crown Prince had knowledge of this tragic event – maybe he did and maybe he didn’t!’ Speaking as someone who’s written more than his fair share of bloodless, madly nuanced corporate statements, Trump’s handiwork – which is that sentence alone (complete with showbiz exclamation mark!) – stands out a mile. It’s so perfect I

At the last minute, the Russian police general everyone had assumed was a shoo-in to become the next head of Interpol was defeated by the acting head, South Korean Kim Jong-yang. It’s good news for the international police cooperation organisation, for the West and, arguably, for justice – but it’s not the end of the story. The presumed front-runner, major general Alexander Prokopchuk – formerly the head of Russia’s Interpol bureau – has been accused of supervising the systematic attempt to apparently use the agency to persecute the Kremlin’s political enemies. Nonetheless, until the eleventh hour, everyone saw Prokopchuk as the heir apparent. Moscow certainly seems to have thought so. It

After repeated denials, Chinese officials finally admitted last month that they have set up internment camps in the far-western province of Xinjiang, where up to one million ethnic Uighurs, almost all of whom are Muslim, are being held. Under China’s anti-terrorism law and ‘religious affairs regulation,’ the government in the Xinjiang Autonomous Region publicly introduced the ‘Regulation on De-extremification.’ What it describes is a new gulag, where re-education and the suppression of Uighur identity is its main goal. There are approximately 25 million Muslims in China today, but these new draconian laws in Xinjiang are aimed solely at the ethnic Uighurs, of which there are just over 11 million. Unlike the

Midway through coffee a soldier came running in. ‘Tzeva adom!’ ‘Red colour!’ Cups clattered, chairs shrieked across slate floor. There is a calm exodus to an improvised bomb shelter — the cafe’s concrete reinforced bathroom. Soldiers at the front, paramedics behind, civilians at the back. Two dozen faces are lit by the insistent flashes of Red Alert, an app that warns of incoming fire. The foreigners quip nervously, the locals tut at the inconvenience. After a few minutes, the all clear is given and diners return to their lunch. It is 1.02pm and another rocket has just hit Israel.  We are at Yad Mordechai junction, four kilometres from the 1949