The waters off Singapore teem with tankers, container ships, freighters and smacks, importing everything from oil to electronics. Yet there is one commodity none of these vessels carries, and which the city-state wants: electricity. The tiny, rich island powers itself mostly by burning imported natural gas, despite pledging to cut emissions to net-zero by 2050. It has little room to build its own wind or solar farms. So Singapore plans to get hold of clean power in a different way: down long-distance cables from its neighbours. Its government has given preliminary approval for undersea transmission cables from Cambodia, Indonesia, Vietnam and even Australia, some 4,300km away. In ten years’ time Singapore wants to import a third of the power it consumes this way.

THESE ARE happy, “I told you so” times for foreign-policy cynics. In many world capitals the inauguration of an America First president inspires not shock, but vindication. Over a policy-filled lunch in Asia, a veteran official tells The Telegram that his government feels “serene” about the return of President Donald Trump. Westerners are forgetting their history, he suggests, if they mourn the crumbling of a principled, America-led world order that has supposedly prevailed for 80 years. Tell that to Asian peoples attacked by colonial European troops as they fought for independence, he says. Moral values never guided the post-war world. At least under Mr Trump, the mask is off, and interests are all.

SINCE ITS founding by landowners in 1866, the Rural Society of Argentina—motto, “To Cultivate the Soil is to Serve the Nation”—has been a potent ally for governments of the right and a daunting foe for the left. The society’s campus in Buenos Aires, home to a big annual agricultural fair, dominates a city block in the heart of the capital. Hosting The Telegram for a chat about geopolitics, society officers deplore decades of economic mismanagement by populist left-leaning governments, which caused inflation to soar and the Argentine currency to sink. On the way out, they show him some of the society’s historic treasures, including a carved armchair used by the late Pope John Paul II.

FOR the spies, diplomats and military types tasked with keeping America safe and prosperous, Donald Trump’s bullying long ago lost its power to shock. Indeed, the national-security establishment—including officials who currently serve President Joe Biden—concedes that Mr Trump’s brand of statecraft, involving America First bombast, cruel jokes and offers that can’t be refused, is at times effective. Mr Trump’s ability to generate leverage leads to a different lament. Shrewd professionals worry that the 47th president has a potentially strong hand, but might blow it.

AFTER a corporate raider pulls off a hostile takeover, why listen to the losers who ran the company before? To some around Donald Trump, the presidential transition on January 20th should follow a similar logic. Nominees for big jobs growl about crushing the deep state and firing federal officials who dissent. Yet in one policy realm at least—national security—the outgoing Biden administration has messages to pass on, and (modest) confidence that (some) Trump lieutenants may hear them.

ON JANUARY 14TH Pete Hegseth, Donald Trump’s nominee for secretary of defence, will be grilled by senators on his suitability for the job. He will be quizzed on allegations of sexual assault and excessive drinking. He is also certain to face questions about women and war. “We should not have women in combat roles,” he said in a recent podcast. He acknowledged that women had served “amazingly” in America’s armed forces and that female fighter pilots were welcome, but argued that women were simply not strong enough to serve in infantry, armour and artillery units. Since admitting women, “the standards have lowered,” he said.

THE WORDS “retirement community” summon up images of easy chairs, overcooked food and endless daytime TV. Latitude Margaritaville, a community being built near Hilton Head Island in South Carolina, quickly disabuses these. “There was a toga party this past weekend,” says Lynette, a resident. “There was a live band, and it was a riot.” Barbie, another of the community’s “ambassadors” (residents employed by the developers to help sell it to potential newcomers), compares living there to “starting college all over again”. There are, she says, “drinks on the driveway, cocktails on the concrete”.

IN SEPTEMBER the Night Time Industries Association, a British trade group, issued a sobering press release. Since 2020, it revealed, 37% of Britain’s nightclubs had closed. Many shut during the pandemic and never reopened, but closures continue. If clubs do not stop closing, the NTIA predicted, by the end of the decade there will be almost nowhere left for Britons to get drunk, belt out “Mr Brightside” and then vomit in a gutter on the walk home at 2am.

THIS IS A perilous moment for all who seek to regulate conflict with law. From Europe to the Middle East and the Horn of Africa, brutal acts by violent men are challenging the international order founded after 1945, in response to the horrors of industrialised, racialised world war.

ON AUGUST 26TH the skies over Ukraine filled with the roar of 230 missiles and Shahed explosive-laden drones. It was Russia’s biggest such attack and it ought to have been devastating, since the largest missiles each carried as much as 700kg of explosives. Yet it soon became clear that Russia had failed. Ukraine claimed it shot down 201, or 87%, of the missiles, a stark example of how little effect air power has had in Europe’s biggest war in more than eight decades.

The average dairy cow in America produces 30 litres of milk a day; a cow in Africa, only 1.6. This 19-fold difference—call it the dairy divide—has enormous consequences. Closing even some of it would ease poverty, help children grow up better nourished, reduce emissions of greenhouse gases and perhaps even make civil wars less likely. The good news is that cows can become more productive, thanks to the spread of technologies old and new. But unhelpful traditions—and climate change itself—make it harder.

WITH THE right portfolio of assets, property developers enjoy tremendous power over architects, builders and potential tenants. Yet even the richest have little leverage over arsonists.

WITH THE right portfolio of assets, property developers enjoy tremendous power over architects, builders and potential tenants. Yet even the richest have little leverage over arsonists.

In the shadow of the giant pillars that encircle St Peter’s Square, Nancy Samai sells visitors tickets to the Vatican Museums. A Roman Catholic, Ms Samai arrived in Italy 22 years ago after fleeing the civil war in her native Sierra Leone. As she works, she can see the very window from which Pope Francis greets pilgrims on a Sunday. Like many of them, she wonders whether one day the face that emerges from that window might be black. “If America can have Barack Obama as its president, then surely the next pope can be African,” she says. “That’s my dream. That’s what I’m praying for.”

In the shadow of the giant pillars that encircle St Peter’s Square, Nancy Samai sells visitors tickets to the Vatican Museums. A Roman Catholic, Ms Samai arrived in Italy 22 years ago after fleeing the civil war in her native Sierra Leone. As she works, she can see the very window from which Pope Francis greets pilgrims on a Sunday. Like many of them, she wonders whether one day the face that emerges from that window might be black. “If America can have Barack Obama as its president, then surely the next pope can be African,” she says. “That’s my dream. That’s what I’m praying for.”

NIGHT AFTER night, a contest between fear and hope is playing out on the streets of Georgia’s capital, Tbilisi. Defying club-wielding riot police, protesters have gathered each evening since November 28th to demand that their government resumes its frozen bid to join the European Union and holds fresh, unrigged elections. This being real life rather than a morality tale, it cannot be ruled out that fear will win.

TO DONALD TRUMP, the current world order is a criminally bad deal for America. He is ready to play good cop and bad cop to fix this. Public enemy number one is China’s economic model, which he has called a conspiracy to steal wealth and manufacturing jobs from America. But allies are prime suspects, too, accused of cheating America in trade while doing too little for America’s national security. Allies from Europe to North America and Asia can expect to meet both the smiling and snarling versions of President Trump, all too soon.

AS THE WORLD teeters on the brink of the worst trade wars since the 1930s, with international capital flows plunging and cross-border trade and investment stagnating, there is one glaring exception to this unravelling of globalisation: International gangsters and organised criminals are on a roll. They are merrily pursuing opportunities around the world, moving goods across borders, establishing country-spanning supply chains and hiring talent internationally.

THE SENSE that the COP29 climate talks were outstaying their welcome in Baku was tangible through growing absences. Over the 30 hours between the scheduled end on Friday November 22nd and the final gavel in the early hours of Sunday morning first food, then water, then toilet paper ran out; finally fire extinguishers were slowly removed. A few dozen countries walked out, too—but they came back in time for a conclusion which, if far from inspiring, was at least better than the total breakdown that threatened.

IN THE COMING months millions of people across the northern hemisphere will apply to do postgraduate study. Most will top up an undergraduate qualification with a one- or two- year master’s degree in the hope that this will set them apart in a job market crowded with bachelor’s degrees.

IN BARRACKS SQUARE in old Helsinki stands an unusual monument to a war. A towering sculpture of a soldier’s winter snowsuit, its polished steel body is pierced with large round holes, as if still standing after a strafing by cannon fire. It is Finland’s national memorial to the winter war of 1939-40. During that conflict, Finnish troops withstood a huge Soviet force for 105 days, inflicting heavy casualties on the invaders before succumbing to the Red Army’s larger numbers. The Soviet Union imposed harsh terms, taking 10% of its neighbour’s territory. Peace proved fragile, and Finland was soon swept up into the second world war, fighting with Nazi Germany against the Soviet Red Army from 1941-44.

IN BARRACKS SQUARE in old Helsinki stands an unusual monument to a war. A towering sculpture of a soldier’s winter snowsuit, its polished steel body is pierced with large round holes, as if still standing after a strafing by cannon fire. It is Finland’s national memorial to the winter war of 1939-40. During that conflict, Finnish troops withstood a huge Soviet force for 105 days, inflicting heavy casualties on the invaders before succumbing to the Red Army’s larger numbers. The Soviet Union imposed harsh terms, taking 10% of its neighbour’s territory. Peace proved fragile, and Finland was soon swept up into the second world war, fighting with Nazi Germany against the Soviet Red Army from 1941-44.

JUST HOURS after polling stations closed in California on November 5th, a Minuteman III missile thundered out of the Vandenberg military base on the Pacific coast. Half an hour later and 4,200 miles away, three mock warheads struck Kwajalein atoll in the Marshall Islands. The timing of the test—announced to both Russia and China—was probably no coincidence: America was sending a message. Whoever was elected, its armed forces were ready to respond to any threat.

WHEN WORLD leaders meet Donald Trump, flattery has its uses but it is “not a silver bullet”. That is the considered view of foreign diplomats and American officials who have, between them, spent hundreds of hours in the room with America’s 45th and soon to be 47th president. Their counsel is a timely corrective. For the usual wisdom on how to handle Mr Trump could double up as advice on hosting a toddler’s birthday party, with its emphasis on lavish presents, easy-to-eat food and unlimited praise.

BRITAIN WAS the first country to generate electricity from coal. On September 30th that era came to an end when it closed its last coal-fired plant, amid much self-congratulation. But look beyond England’s clean and pleasant skies—and those of the mostly-rich countries in the OECD, a third of which now have coal-free electricity—and there is little to be smug about.

THE WORLD stands on the brink of multiple trade wars. Some will be unleashed with enthusiasm by Donald Trump, a man who hails tariffs as “the greatest thing ever invented”. Yet other, more reluctant clashes will surely follow, begun by blocs and countries whose prosperity depends on access to foreign markets. Expect those unhappy warriors, notably those based in Beijing and Brussels, to insist that—if forced into battle—their aim is to keep markets open and competition fair, not to tear the system down. Alas, the distinction matters less than defenders of globalisation hope. History records many examples of protectionists wreaking economic havoc. But trade-friendly governments often feel obliged to retaliate, too, rather than stand accused of abandoning domestic industries.

THE WORLD stands on the brink of multiple trade wars. Some will be unleashed with enthusiasm by Donald Trump, a man who hails tariffs as “the greatest thing ever invented”. Yet other, more reluctant clashes will surely follow, begun by blocs and countries whose prosperity depends on access to foreign markets. Expect those unhappy warriors, notably those based in Beijing and Brussels, to insist that—if forced into battle—their aim is to keep markets open and competition fair, not to tear the system down. Alas, the distinction matters less than defenders of globalisation hope. History records many examples of protectionists wreaking economic havoc. But trade-friendly governments often feel obliged to retaliate, too, rather than stand accused of abandoning domestic industries.

LIKE QUIZ-SHOW contestants trying to bash the buzzer first, Volodymyr Zelensky, Ukraine’s president, and Binyamin Netanyahu, Israel’s prime minister, raced to congratulate Donald Trump on his victory—though each for very different reasons. The rush by these and other leaders around the globe, such as Emmanuel Macron of France and Lai Ching-te of Taiwan, to ingratiate themselves with America’s next president reveals much about the perils and opportunities they foresee under Mr Trump, whose only constancy in foreign policy is his unpredictability.