Table of contents for 24 January 2026 in The Spectator

In the summer of 1643, as the dispute between Charles I and parliament raged on, Sir William Waller wrote to his friend Ralph Hopton to lament with ‘what a perfect hatred’ he detested ‘this war without an enemy’. The hardening of hearts between the Conservatives and Reform UK resembles a similarly self-defeating civil war – a family dispute more public and bitter even than the Fall of the House of Beckham. Just over a year ago, Robert Jenrick narrowly lost the Tory leadership contest to Kemi Badenoch. For some, his defection to Nigel Farage’s party was the overdue exit of a shameless careerist who never accepted coming second. But for the Conservatives who supported him, Jenrick’s departure means the loss of one of the party’s most thoughtful and energetic MPs…

The invitation came from Ewan Venters, a Scot who currently steers the Paul Smith brand, and the venue was Angela Hartnett’s Cafe Murano in Marylebone. Would I like to come to a ‘small, intimate’ dinner (which usually means a small multitude) to meet Anas Sarwar, the leader of the Labour party in Scotland, who obviously has his sights on Bute House come May? The aim was to understand more about the issues which affect the Union and the evening was reasonably subject to the Chatham House rule, although the meal was basically just to reassure us all that Sarwar thinks our unbeloved Prime Minister is a blithering idiot. Sarwar knows that if the Scottish election becomes a referendum on Sir Keir, he loses. He was pushing at an open door,…

Those pondering why Robert Jenrick defected to Reform UK have focused on the political momentum of Nigel Farage or the performance of Kemi Badenoch, but the key conversation was the one he had with his father on Boxing Day. ‘He’s a very straight talker,’ Jenrick explains when we meet at Reform’s headquarters on Tuesday afternoon. ‘He said, “If you weren’t in politics and there was a general election tomorrow, which party would you vote for?” I said, “Reform.” He said, “If you weren’t in politics, weren’t a candidate, had no particular loyalty, who would you want to be prime minister if the choice was Keir Starmer, Kemi Badenoch and Nigel Farage?” I said, “Nigel Farage.” He said, “Well, be honest with yourself and become a Reform MP.” ’ Three weeks…

Roedean is now known as ‘Beijing High’. Cheltenham Ladies’ College is ‘Hong Kong College’. In the country’s most elite boarding schools, pupils say that they are one of just a handful of English children. Others note that Chinese has become the dominant language in hallways and dormitories. Many English parents can no longer afford a boarding school education for their children. And the pressure of recently introduced VAT on fees, as well as above-inflation rises year on year, means the number able to cough up will dwindle further. By contrast, China and Hong Kong’s growing economy and cultural obsession with education provides a surfeit of parents with the cash needed to secure the educational prospects of their children. There are 11,000 Chinese pupils at British independent schools. At Harrow, 28…

It seems counter-intuitive to say that the House of Lords is more representative than the House of Commons. Yet in the extended reading of the assisted suicide bill, it is clear the Upper House is surprisingly reflective of the reality of the nation. Nominally, the bill is being piloted by Lord Falconer, the formerly cuddly ex-housemate of Tony Blair. Falconer has consistently sought to water down amendments and concessions secured during the Commons debate. During last week’s Lords debate, he cited ‘somebody called Sarah Cox’ – who just happens to be the former president of the Association for Palliative Medicine (APM) and gave evidence to the bill committee last year. This didn’t prevent Lord Falconer from misrepresenting her testimony, prompting a complaint from the APM. To him, the expertise or…

The forces arranged in favour of banning social media for under-16s are powerful and wide-ranging. The unlikely alliance includes the leader of the Tory party, more than 60 Labour MPs, Big Suze from Peep Show and the patron saint of all bad ideas – His Majesty King Charles III. It seems probable that when amendment 94A of the Children’s Wellbeing and Schools Bill is voted on, it will receive support from all these quarters, as well as from Sir Keir Starmer, who has, true to form, launched a consultation on the issue. A handful of mental health charities will tell him that he must really get on with banning social media for teenagers, which he will then promptly and politely do. It’s no surprise that these various tentacles of the…

Last week the Bank of England was warned to prepare for a financial crisis triggered by the discovery of extraterrestrial life. But the really worrying scenario isn’t aliens. It’s us. A century ago the state pension as we know it was introduced. Taxes from employers and their staff were used to pay out benefits to the elderly once they hit retirement age. There was no means-testing, and this benefit for all removed the stigma associated with claiming welfare. It was a roaring success. But it won’t see another 100 years. It’s always been wrong to call it a pension. It’s a benefit paid out of current taxation like any other. There’s never been an investment pot built up or paid into. The state pension runs more like a Ponzi scheme.…

Last year might have proved a good time to own shares in the chip-maker Nvidia, along with the booming American tech giants. Or a piece of the defence manufacturers as the world re-arms. Or to hold a position in some of the rapidly growing economies of South America or Asia, or even one of the hyped-up crypto currencies. There were plenty of places investors expected to make money over the past year. As it turned out, however, there was one asset that outpaced them all, even though it generates no income: gold, and to an even greater extent, its junior sibling silver. With government debt soaring out of control, the precious metals are more valuable than ever – and so long as that is true, they will keep on climbing.…

The Black Cross: A History of the Baltic Crusadesby Aleksander PluskowskiYale, £25, pp. 480 The crusades bring up images of the ancient cities and harsh deserts of the Levant, of Saladin, Richard Coeur de Lion and King Louis IX of France. The crusades to the Holy Land were a consuming obsession of Latin Christianity for four centuries and remain among the most famous episodes of the Middle Ages. Yet, in the perspective of history, they made almost no difference. The crusaders were defeated and expelled, leaving no trace in the life of the Middle East apart from a handful of churches and some spectacular ruined castles. By comparison, very little attention is paid to other crusades – in the Baltic and against the Moors in Spain and Portugal – which…

Rapture of the Deepby Robert Irwin, completed by Andrew Crumey Dedalus, £11.99, pp. 253 If Robert Irwin had not existed, then Dan Brown, or better still Umberto Eco, would surely have had to invent him. In his Memoirs of a Dervish, the roller-blading, pinball-playing polymath reported: ‘It was in my first year in Oxford that I decided that I wanted to become a Muslim saint.’ Irwin, who died in 2024, first pursued that esoteric life goal in a Sufi monastery in Algeria. He returned to become not just a vastly erudite scholar of Arab Muslim culture but a madcap maverick of a novelist as well. As a writer, he loved paradox, surprise and reversal. When in 2006 he controversially dismantled the flawed thesis and factual errors of Edward Said’s Orientalism…

Palaverby Bryan Washington Atlantic, £14.99, pp. 336 I’ve never been to Tokyo, but sometimes I wonder: why bother with the plane ticket? The imagined Tokyo is more real than the actual city. For westerners, it is a place whose USP is its unreality: its irreducible strangeness, its intense Japaneseness. It’s a city where lonely souls go to bump against other lonely souls and everything is lost in translation. To spoil this fantasy with too much daylight would be to miss the point. On the surface, Bryan Washington’s Palaver isn’t in a hurry to push against these clichés. It follows an estranged mother and son who meet again in Japan many years after he has left the humidity and homophobia of Texas. He spends his days tutoring English and cruising bars,…

Against the Machine: On the Unmaking of Humanityby Paul KingsnorthParticular Books, £25, pp. 336 In the sphere of British environmentalism, Paul Kingsnorth is admired as a maverick in thought and deed. Starting out as a journalist with the Ecologist magazine, he co-founded the Dark Mountain Project, an online portal devoted to stories about the more-than-human world in a time of ecological collapse. On resigning from both, he retreated as a self-proclaimed ‘recovering environmentalist’ to an Irish smallholding, where he has embraced the Romanian Orthodox church. Against the Machine, his tenth book, is billed as a summary of his intensifying disillusionment with events in the past 30 years. It is a serious work leavened with sardonic humour and is by turns rich in unsettling ideas and deeply pessimistic. It argues that…

The Makropulos AffairBarbican Hall Sabine Devieilhe & Mathieu PordoyWigmore Hall The Czech author Karel Capek is probably best known for his plays: high-concept speculative dramas such as R.U.R. and The Insect Play, bristling with wit and ideas. But he paid his bills as a newspaper columnist, and he seems to have been pleasantly surprised when Janacek approached him about turning his ‘conversational, fairly unpoetical and over-garrulous play’ (Capek’s words) The Makropulos Affair into an opera. Capek licensed Janacek to adapt it as the composer saw fit, in words that have the authentic ring of the working journalist – ‘because I simply wouldn’t get round to revising it myself’. No fear on that count. The Makropulos Affair is a brisk, nervy play but Janacek, at 69 (there’s hope for us all),…

Artworks: Poems on the Underground, A People’s History of PunkBBC Radio 4 The idea for Poems on the Underground was thought up by a New Yorker 40 years ago this month. This may surprise you, given that the posters are synonymous with London. But then again, the creative possibilities of a transport system tend to be lost on its native commuters. Judith Chernaik, a lecturer in English literature, had recently relocated to the capital when she fell in love with the Tube: ‘Compared to New York it’s bliss – clean, safe and fast, too… if things are working of course.’ In As You Like It, Orlando goes around the Forest of Arden dangling sonnets for Rosalind from trees. Those sonnets are mostly dire, but it occurred to Chernaik, while studying…

Grade: B– It’s a duck, except he’s a detective. Or a detective, except he’s a duck. Anyway he wears a fedora, seems depressed, quacks wise, and eats too much bread – so we can leave the rest to the philosophers. In this sequel to Duck Detective: The Secret Salami (who knew the world needed two such games?) this pleasingly drawn cartoon hero navigates a series of locations solving puzzles. Reminded me a lot of the 1990s. Fancy the funny-animal thing still going strong all these years after Adolescent Radioactive Black Belt Hamsters I was about to write, but then I remembered Aesop. Likewise old-school point-and-click adventures, though now they’re swipe-and-tap adventures, so that’s progress of a sort. Anyway, it’s set on a campsite, or glampsite if you will. You have…

The panic of another season bore down on me as the builder boyfriend painted the breakfast room with the green paint I’d chosen. But he couldn’t paint fast enough for my liking and we started to have the most terrible rows. Despite us being fully booked last summer, I had come to the view that the whole thing wasn’t viable and we were bound to go under. I started looking up estate agents who market big old piles in Ireland to stupid people in America. This house is like a monster devouring my money faster than I can feed it. I fed the beast by filling the oil tank to the brim at Christmas and it was a quarter gone by the new year. This house is like a monster…

The January 2026 Fide junior rankings tell a remarkable story: at the top sits Gukesh Dommaraju from India, who in 2024 became the youngest world champion in history. Still just 19 years old, he will defend the title later this year. The real shock is that the second-place spot now belongs to a 14-year-old: Yagiz Kaan Erdogmus from Turkey, recently described by Magnus Carlsen himself as the best 14-year-old the world has ever seen. Having been coached by the Azeri grandmaster Shakhriyar Mamedyarov, who peaked at world no. 2, Erdogmus is already adept at fighting against world-class opposition. When he faced the elite veteran Peter Svidler in a ‘Clash of Generations’ match held in Marseille in July 2025, Erdogmus was a clear underdog on paper. Nevertheless, he won the classical…

At the end of last year, the government announced a programme designed to tackle the radicalisation of young men in schools. Teachers will be trained in how to spot misogyny in the classroom and children deemed to be at fault sent on ‘toxic masculinity’ courses – an attempt to ‘re-educate’ white working-class boys that’s guaranteed to spawn 1,000 memes. It was billed as a key component of the government’s strategy to halve violence against women and girls by 2035. Don’t worry about the grooming gangs – the real predators are the knuckle-dragging teenagers, as per Adolescence, which was festooned with Golden Globes by the Hollywood Foreign Press Association last week. But does Britain really have a problem with young men drifting into the arms of dangerous, far-right influencers such as…

Q. My daughter is temporarily living abroad and we communicate daily on WhatsApp. She’s always desperate for any local news/gossip and I try to send her what I know, so she doesn’t feel too far away from what’s going on. A fellow parent in the village has now told me that my daughter forwards these titbits directly to others, often citing me as the source. I don’t want to gain a reputation for gossiping but neither do I want her to feel cut off. By the way, I have already tried saying ‘Just between you and me’, but her generation seems unable to understand the concept of discretion. They apparently think all information is for sharing – even the sensitive stuff. What do you recommend I do, Mary? – Name…

My husband made a noise which he thinks is like a klaxon but sounds as if he is choking on his whisky. Even though I was in the middle of making a roux, I had to hurry from the kitchen to make sure he wasn’t. The klaxon was to signal that he had found in the paper a cliché that had led to complete nonsense. ‘Sir Tony’s position on the board was marred in uncertainty because of his role in the 2003 invasion of Iraq,’ someone said in the Telegraph. The cliché he was aiming at was mired. But, as clichés are empty of meaning, he hadn’t noticed that marred made no sense. It is a common error. In an article on electrical charging, someone on the Times had written…

Dylan Jones writes this week’s Diary on p7. He formerly edited the Evening Standard and GQ. His most recent book is 1975: The Year the World Forgot. John Campbell, whose biography of Richard Haldane is being closely read by Reform, explores what the former lord chancellor really believed, on p24. Miriam Balanescu is a freelance film and book critic based in London and Cambridge. She writes about the great Romanian novelist Mircea Cartarescu on p42. Sarah Ditum is the author of Toxic: Women, Fame and the Noughties and a contributor to UnHerd. She discusses child custody on p42. Dorian Lynskey, who writes about Nazi imagery in rock music on p44, is the author of 33 Revolutions Per Minute: A History of Protest Songs.…

Kemi Badenoch’s travails with Nigel Farage’s Reform UK party have taken me back to the politics of the 1980s and the Social Democratic party’s challenge to Labour at the time. Like Reform now, the SDP sought to replace one of the main incumbent parties of British politics, but the SDP’s case went beyond finishing off Labour. Like Farage now, they argued that the whole two-party system was ailing, that neither was capable of providing a political home for millions of voters who felt unrepresented by them, and that each was, in their own way, so stuck in their furrows that only a new party could give Britain the leadership it needed. The project did not end in success despite this initial message at one point commanding 50 per cent in…

It came to pass in 2020 that a decree went out from the General Synod that all the Church of England must be carbon net-zero by 2030. And this ruling was first made when Justin Welby was Archbishop of Canterbury. And all went to have a good hard look at their church heating systems, every one into his own vestry cupboard… How easy it is to issue a decree from on high; and how hard it is for the people on the ground to have to deal with its consequences. One of many consequences of that arbitrary round-number target – and it’s a microcosm of the centralised C of E’s attitude towards its parish churches – was that three months ago the vicar and churchwardens of Christ Church, Chineham, in…

I have never been the greatest fan of libertarianism as a political ideology. Libertarians seem to me to be the bisexuals of politics – they want a bit of everything. But even I felt a slight twinge of libertarian sentiment this week when I read some remarks by our Home Secretary, Shabana Mahmood. The Labour minister had told MPs that artificial intelligence is an ‘incredibly powerful tool that can and should be used by our police forces’, though she added that it must be regulated in a way that is ‘always accurate’. I have never before read the words ‘police’ and ‘always accurate’ in the same sentence, so the novelty grabbed my attention. But it was what Mahmood was quoted as saying last month in an interview with Sir Tony…

Political frenemies Nigel Farage accepted Robert Jenrick into Reform UK in spite of having previously called him a ‘fraud’ (for boasting about securing hotels for migrants when in government and then campaigning against them in opposition). Some more political make-ups: — David Cameron called Nick Clegg his ‘favourite joke’ before forming a coalition with him in 2010. — Donald Trump chose J.D. Vance as his running-mate in 2024 in spite of Vance having called him ‘America’s Hitler’ and a ‘really bad person’. — George H.W. Bush served as Ronald Reagan’s vice-president between 1981 and 1989 in spite of having previously accused him of ‘voodoo economics’. Track records A Spanish high-speed train derailed and collided with an oncoming train, killing at least 39 people. Which countries have the safest, and most…

A party that can foretell the future stands a very good chance of success. Given Labour’s record of U-turns, they cannot even foretell the present. A state’s success in the ancient world depended on its mastery of natural resources: the more land and people you controlled, the more powerful you were. So states were frequently at war and naturally sought the favour of the gods – by consulting oracles, entrails and flights of birds, or striking lucky by means of dreams, omens, sneezes, odd events and suchlike. However, there were no guarantees. ‘A prophecy is the guess of a sensible man’ (Euripides), ‘No good has ever come from prophecy’ (Aeschylus). Menander hit the spot, when a character desired ‘A future not as I wish, but to my benefit.’ But divine…

In the pantheon of South America’s great hotels, the Gran Hotel Bolivar’s place is assured. Stand anywhere in the Plaza San Martin, one of Lima’s historic central squares, and the proud art deco 1924 building – all 300 rooms and five storeys of it – glistens dazzling white over the promenaders, tourists and hawkers below. These days it feels almost marooned, an island of elegant, old-fashioned opulence set in a sea of fuming traffic. The rich and sophisticated have deserted the old part of town for the cool condominiums and plate glass of modern Miraflores, but Miraflores has no memory. The Bolivar – every stone, every pane of stained glass, every monogrammed brass doorknob, even the black Model T Ford standing beside the reception desks – remembers its glory days.…

All innovations seem unseemly to fogeys. When bitcoin, the first of the cryptocurrencies, was launched in 2009, we dismissed it as a deplorable and transient phenomenon. Its inventor, who called himself Satoshi Nakamoto, would not reveal his real name. Perhaps he did not exist and whoever hid behind the pseudonym was having a joke at our expense. When Satoshi created the first bitcoin on 9 January 2009, he embedded within its code a headline from a recent Times: ‘Chancellor on brink of second bailout for banks.’ Crypto appeals to people who distrust banks, as well one may. ‘Never trust the bankers,’ Winston Churchill warned in old age. History suggests one can trust neither governments nor central banks to maintain the value of money. Since 1914, the pound has lost more…

My Davos spy disguised as an Uber Eats driver sent word that this year’s World Economic Forum was rammed ahead of Donald Trump’s arrival. The Alpine resort was heaving with Saudis, Emiratis, AI snake-oil salesmen and US tech titans strongarmed into sponsoring USA House, the official showcase of America’s ‘unity, ingenuity and leadership’ that has its main venue in the town’s English church – ideal for Trump veneration. Attendance was so competitive that the market in fake VIP passes was hotter than precious metals and one African statesman was seen parting with €25,000 in cash for a rented apartment. But this year’s theme, ‘A Spirit of Dialogue’, looked ironic given the monologue expected from a US President representing the very antithesis of ‘Davos Man’: that archetype of the virtue-signalling attendees…

Blinding: The Left Wingby Mircea Cartarescu, translated by Sean CotterPenguin, £16.99, pp. 432 Before the 1989 revolution, Romania had seen nearly a century of polarisation – a fascist regime swiftly replaced by a communist one. In Blinding, Mircea Cartarescu’s first instalment of an ambitious, surrealist trilogy, that duality, along with other antagonisms central to existence, is represented by the motif of a butterfly. The novel was originally published in Romanian in 1996, and the title refers to the epiphany which, it’s suggested, can be achieved if life’s opposites are reconciled. We first meet the narrator, twentysome-thing Mircea, languishing in a squalid studio flat in Bucharest, his rapidly industrialising home city. He is writing his own ‘endless book’, his aim being absolute self-knowledge. Nostalgia, he tells us, contains the ‘seeds of…

Wild sea and sky uproot your rest.The coast in its uproarious gloom,with what few trees there are distressed,your kids excited in their room –your world and weather are at war,which scares me, as I know that you’reattracted by the storm. Though happy, you’ve a feeling thatbeing more alive beyond your calmdomestic cove could well be whatmight free your playful soul from harm,find deep-down healing in the flowof chance and change that makes you soattracted by the storm. Working, you listen to the roarof outrage round your hunkered home,the cottage with its stable dooryou’re drawn to, though you’re safe and warminside, with laptop, kids and cat,your sanctuary, but, despite all that,attracted by the storm.…

Vigilby George Saunders Bloomsbury, £18.99, pp. 172 George Saunders is at his most lively in the company of the dead. At ease with ghosts. In the 2022 Booker-winning Lincoln in the Bardo, Abraham Lincoln mourns his young son in a graveyard surrounded by a clamorous crowd of the newly deceased trying to be helpful. Grief, handled with sweet humour. But Saunders has not always been so gentle. His acclaimed first collection of stories, CivilWarLand in Bad Decline (1997), featured a landscape of grotesque theme parks populated by corpses, enslaved humans and ghosts. Even then, compassion edged in, rubbing shoulders with absurdist humour. Saunders is a cradle Catholic, and the liturgy frequently surfaces in his stories; but his Catholicism has a humanist face, a vein of kindness running through his work.…

Agatha Christie’s Seven DialsNetflix A Knight of the Seven KingdomsSky Atlantic/Now TV When it comes to Agatha Christie adaptations, there are normally two possible responses to the denouement. One is a deep satisfaction that the unlikeliest suspects were the inevitable culprits after all. The other’s the same as that – except approximately a quarter of an hour later you suddenly find yourself thinking: ‘Hold on a minute…’ But with Agatha Christie’s Seven Dials, neither was the case. The unlikeliest suspects remained laughably unlikely even as their guilt was revealed – and the ‘Hold on a minute’s came not after the show finished, but with pretty much every twist of a plot that, almost impressively, kept finding new levels of preposterousness to scale. The setting was the mid-1920s – which naturally…

Last weekend, I sat in my kitchen to build and paint an Airfix model. I’d experimented before with mindful colouring and adult Lego, but this was my first try at the solo bachelor activity par excellence. After a few hours of tugging, sticking and dabbing, I was quite impressed with my little Tiger 1 tank. The tread painting was a bit sloppy and the snapping of the turret unfortunate. But, for a kit that had cost me £8 in an Aldi middle aisle, it brought me tremendous joy – and not just because of the copious glue fumes I had inhaled. I worry I might be a little too late to the party. Earlier this month, Hornby – the company behind Airfix, Scalextric cars and the eponymous model railways –…

The second-best day of the year is finally here. Obviously, nothing beats the opening day of the Cheltenham Festival – and it will be even better this year when Mambonumberfive wins the Arkle – but Cocklebarrow Races in the Cotswolds are a short-head runner up. You can rely on the weather to be foul: if there isn’t mud up to your knees, the ground will be frozen solid. But the dogs love it and as your car sinks up to its axle, you have plenty of time to be proud to be British – while you wait for the tractor to pull you out. An extraordinary amount of planning by our volunteer committee goes into the day. Our honourable secretary (from here on, referred to as ‘H Sec’) is bullied…

For Competition 3443 you were invited to submit a dear John letter in the style of a well-known writer. The brief stipulated 16 lines but you submitted both verse and prose and I allowed both. I very much enjoyed Sue Pickard’s Bram Stoker: ‘My dear Count, I can barely summon the energy to write this letter as my haemoglobin levels are so low but write it I must…’. And Alan Millard’s Oscar Wilde: ‘The truth is that I have met someone who loves me almost as much as I love myself…’. I was also sorry not to have room for Andrew Simpson’s fruity D.H. Lawrence, Bill Greenwell’s T.S. Eliot, Richard Warren’s Andrew Marvell and George Simmers’s Leopold von Sacher-Masoch. The £25 John Lewis vouchers go to the authors of those…

If you can remember Pink ’Un newspapers and the days when FA Cup shocks really were shocks, then God bless you, you’ve got a few miles on the clock. Pink ’Uns (occasionally Green ’Uns, as in Sheffield and Bristol) were Saturday evening regional newspapers carrying results and reports of Football League matches that, in a miracle of newspaper production, mesmerising to behold, were on sale on the streets while spectators were still leaving the grounds after the final whistle. All closed now of course, along with the demise of the Saturday 3 p.m. kick-off. Who needs papers anyway when football fans can discover the state of play in matches at any time, anywhere? I worked in Liverpool and, after a match at Anfield or Goodison, fans could take a bus…

Sometimes you find it, H.G. Wells’s door in the wall, but to tapas: a restaurant so perfect you hesitate to review it. Each critic kills the thing she loves, because to love it is to change it. But I can’t just review palaces for psychotics containing lamps that should not exist, comforting though the idiocies of the very rich are. So here is a review of 28 Church Row, Hampstead. I will try not to make it read like a Hampstead novel about the unreliability of memory, but I might forget to do this. Church Row is the prettiest street in Hampstead: a ragtag of Georgian houses beloved by television stars who wake up one day, understand they are vulgar and buy a house that isn’t. I can’t afford one,…

Donald Trump’s long-standing and ever more ardent desire to own Greenland helps explain his attitude to Putin. Putin used cod history of imperial Russia to justify aggression against Ukraine and was allowed by a feeble West to turn that aggression into actual invasion. Trump avoids condemning that invasion and has supported Putin’s version of Russia’s rights. In relation to Greenland, he produces a sketchy historical account about how American boats got there first and an overdramatised theory, akin to Putin’s Ukraine one, about how a Greenland not owned by the United States threatens his country’s security. Frustrated by what he sees as the prissy pygmies of Nato, he envies the freedom of action of his friend and fellow imperialist, Vladimir. Some people I respect, as well as many I don’t,…

Idly watching the first episode of a TV crime drama series recently, I found myself in a slightly troubled frame of mind. We were already 35 minutes in and no probable villain had shown their face. We had seen black people, Chinese people, lesbians, the disabled, the impoverished and powerless, Muslims, the young and idealistic… yikes, I thought to myself, it simply can’t be any of them, can it? Surely not. And then, as if the scriptwriter had heard my private worries, for lo, a very rich, marble-mouthed white woman emerged and was shown being beastly to some young and idealistic people and I thought: bingo! We have our villain. There is no need to watch the remaining five episodes. She did it, the rich cow. The only slight surprise…

This week it became clear that almost none of the adults whose job it is to teach students the truth are much inclined to do it. Even the doziest vice-chancellor must by now have twigged that gender ideology is dangerous bunk and that it lures in the most vulnerable – yet still they can’t bring themselves to speak out. This goes not just for academics, but for politicians in the education business too. For anyone minded to understand how poisonous the atmosphere in universities is, the story of poor Professor David Gordon is horribly instructive. His ordeal began more than a year ago when he invited another professor, Alice Sullivan, to give a talk to his students at the University of Bristol. Sullivan is a professor of sociology and a…

It was a weekend of mixed emotions for the European Union. There was the news from Donald Trump that he will impose a 10 per cent tariff on eight European countries in retaliation for their opposition to his plans to take control of Greenland. But on a brighter note, the EU finally signed the Mercosur trade agreement with several South American countries. The European Commission hailed it as the creation of ‘a free-trade zone of roughly 700 million people’, one which they promise will save EU companies more than €4 billion a year in customs duties. Ursula von der Leyen, the Commission president, said: ‘We choose fair trade over tariffs, we chose a productive long-term partnership over isolation.’ The Federation of German Industries praised the deal as a strong signal…

If Reform get into government, there is one man they seem likely to turn to for guidance. He is an obscure figure, unknown to many, yet has acolytes across the political spectrum – from Dominic Cummings to Gordon Brown. His name is Richard Burdon Haldane and he died almost a century ago. It was recently reported in this magazine that Danny Kruger had been seen carrying ‘a well-thumbed copy’ of the most recent biography of Haldane. I wrote that book. In it, I describe how Haldane reshaped Britain in the early 20th century – and how, should others choose to follow his example, he might help to transform it again today. The blue plaque on Haldane’s Westminster home reads: ‘Lord Haldane 1856-1928. Statesman, lawyer and philosopher.’ He entered the great…

How to kill reading Sir: I am appalled by the response to Andrew Watts’s concerns about the teaching of reading at his son’s school. His article reveals a system almost guaranteed to discourage reading and an alarming turning away by a school from its responsibility to parents who have entrusted it with their children (‘Schoolboy error’, 17 January). Effective reading involves immersing oneself in the text without distractions, going at one’s own pace. The degree of involvement will be determined by the material and by the engagement of the reader. The remark by Andrew’s son’s head of English, that the school’s reading programme was not supposed to encourage reading for pleasure, indicates a wilful disdain for effective reading. In Dagenham some years ago, my class of 15-year-old boys had one…

Ramit Sethi wants to make you rich. He is not a household name in Britain, but the Stanford psychology graduate is one of the biggest personal finance influencers in the US. He hosts a successful podcast, Money for Couples, has written bestselling books and even has a Netflix show, How to Get Rich. All his projects share the same message: by changing your mindset and taking a few practical steps, you can power yourself toward prosperity. To British ears, his style might seem brash. It is financial advice with a substantial side of life coaching. But beyond the difference in tone, Sethi spreads a simple message rarely heard in finance columns or consumer advice TV slots in this country: that the best thing you can do for your money is…

Dorian Lynskey is astonished by the number of 1970s rock stars who sported Nazi regalia Mark Piesing finds America’s Arctic defences on the point of collapse Sarah Ditum is dismayed by our family courts’ notions of what makes a ‘good’ mother Michael Hann watches Bernard Butler and his tousled hair at work up close Richard Bratby catches Rattle on sensational form James Walton is impressed at how bad Netflix’s new Agatha Christie adaptation is Deborah Ross hopes the bird in H is for Hawk is lavished with prizes…

Custody: The Secret History of Mothersby Lara FeigelWilliam Collins, £25, pp. 432 I’m lucky. I’ve only visited a family court once, and that was as a journalist rather than a party to a case. One detail stuck with me. On the wall in the waiting area was a poster preparing attendees for the layout of the courtroom: the judge goes here, the barristers go here, and you go here and wait for your fate – for your children’s fate – to be decided. It was a reminder that, however much family courts have become friendlier in recent years (notably, family court judges stopped wearing wigs in 2008), these are still places that confound and alienate those hoping for justice. That is, whatever ‘justice’ means when the issue at stake is…

This Ain’t Rock’n’Roll: Pop Music, the Swastika and the Third Reichby Daniel Rachel White Rabbit, £25, pp. 288 When she was an 11-year-old schoolgirl, the writer Gitta Sereny passed through Nuremburg while a Nazi rally was in full swing. She recalled being awed by ‘the joyful faces all around, the rhythm of the sounds, the solemnity of the silences, the colours of the flags, the magic of the lights’. She understood nothing of the political message. Nor, of course, could she have known where it would all lead. It was pure showbusiness. Reading her words in Daniel Rachel’s survey of certain musicians’ thorny fascination with the iconography of the Third Reich, two thoughts occur. One: it is no wonder that as early as the 1950s, rock’n’roll shows reminded some observers…

Bernard ButlerGreen Note Ain’tThe Lexington To the LighthouseThe Victoria Bernard Butler has popped up a couple of times in this column, but not alone – once, with two fellow songwriter-guitarists as Butler, Blake & Grant; but also writing and performing with Jessie Buckley, to sublime effect. Over 30 years Butler has become one of pop’s great enablers. He’s worked on hit records, miss records and records that were never intended to be hits. He’s played with everyone, but has seldom sought much of a spotlight himself. Like Johnny Marr, he stepped away from a generational band – Suede – at the height of the mania for them. Like Marr – and unlike most others who step away from stardom and seek the shadows – he continued working, but always on…

Woman In MindDuke of York’s Theatre, until 28 February, then touring until 14 March Already PerfectKing’s Head Theatre, until 15 February Woman in Mind is a dyspeptic sitcom set in 1986 starring Sheridan Smith as Susan, a moaning Home Counties housewife who slips into a Yorkshire accent when she gets cross. Susan sunbathes in her leafy garden sipping coffee and carping about everyone close to her. She loathes her scowling sister-in-law, Muriel. She can’t bear her husband Gerald, a cerebral vicar, and she refuses to revive their moribund sex life. She constantly badmouths their grown-up son, Ricky, who lives with a community of mute hermits in Hemel Hempstead. In Act One we learn that the rules of Ricky’s community forbid him from speaking to his parents. But in Act Two…

It’s difficult to believe that Evelyn will be 90 in a few months’ time. I’ve known her for more than ten years and, because she can converse on most subjects, I look forward to seeing her when she visits. A retired British archaeologist who ran departments in some of the best universities for most of her life, Evelyn still travels ten months of the year. She is also more knowledgeable about geopolitics than most, and a formidable political debater who can sometimes be prone to anger during discussions. I like to thrash things out too, but quietly. I can’t bear shouting. If things start to get shrill, I leave the room. The passing years haven’t diminished Evelyn physically or mentally. She can still rush about airports and ancient sites, and…

As always, I begin my year with lemons. Regular readers must forgive me for my citrus evangelism. But as the spice and richness of Christmas fare gives way to the drudge of the diet industry and the reality of the back-to-work routine, all framed by short, dark days and cold, icy pavements, the cobalt yellow orb is a literal light in the darkness. What began as a way of bringing brightness and culinary optimism to the new year now feels like a battle cry. Lemons are magical: they come into season during the winter months, their vibrancy at odds with the drab mornings, a flash of lightning in your fruit bowl. Their zipply zest and bracing sourness remind you that you are alive. I, for one, need that reminder. In…