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.

ON THE EVE of America’s presidential election, many people around the world are waiting on edge. Although non-Americans do not get a vote, the outcome of the election will have ramifications far beyond America’s borders on issues such as international trade, the credibility of Western defence alliances and the rise of China. In order to gauge where public opinion sits, The Economist, working with Globescan, a consulting and polling firm, asked 30,000 people worldwide for their views.

WHEN THE Bank for International Settlements (BIS) launched mBridge in 2021, a project aimed at revolutionising cross-border payments, it did so with much fanfare and, among some people, high expectations. The new system, which it was developing with China and others, would harness the power of digital currencies and the trustworthiness of central banks to make international financial flows faster, simpler and cheaper, it said. Yet when the BIS withdrew from the project, it slunk away in the midst of a geopolitical stink. On October 31st Agustín Carstens, the boss of the BIS, announced that the organisation was leaving mBridge in response to a question near the end of a “fireside chat” at a banking conference in Madrid.

IMAGINE A LAND untouched by war, unspoilt by humans, where all nationalities are welcome—a veritable Shangri-La. Such a place exists in Antarctica, the Earth’s southernmost region. Home to 40m penguins and a mere 1,000 people, the continent is owned by no one.

IN FEBRUARY 1946, in the depths of a Moscow winter, an American diplomat sent a remarkable cable to Washington. On paper, George Kennan’s “Long Telegram” was a reply to a query about the Soviet worldview. In reality, Kennan was proposing a strategy for managing superpower competition—an approach that he later called “containment”. The Soviet Union had no interest in friendship, but did not seek a third world war, Kennan explained. Communist rulers were impervious to the “logic of reason”, but understood the “logic of force” and knew their regime to be weaker than a united West. If Soviet expansionism were countered around the world, then a “general military conflict” could be avoided, until one day the USSR either mellowed or crumbled.

VLADIMIR PUTIN, Russia’s president, was cock-a-hoop on October 22nd when he welcomed world leaders including Narendra Modi of India and Xi Jinping of China at the BRICS summit in Kazan on the Volga river. Last year, when the bloc met in South Africa and expanded from five to ten members, Mr Putin had to stay home to avoid being arrested on a warrant issued by the International Criminal Court in The Hague. This time he played host to a rapidly growing club that is challenging the dominance of the Western-led order.