Britain, Europe, Government, Politics, Russia, Society, Ukraine, United States

Europe must awaken or face great insecurity in 2026

EUROPE

THE great Victorian jurist, Sir Henry Maine, wrote: “War appears to be as old as mankind… but peace is a modern invention”. Events in the early part of 2026 will doubtless prove his wisdom by showing the awful fragility of that particular invention.

Even if they had never heard of Maine, the most complacent Europeans should have learnt from Vladimir Putin’s relentless onslaught against Ukraine that peace is neither a natural state nor the default setting of advanced countries, but rather a historical aberration that can only be preserved through strength and vigilance.

Yet, in 2025, we discovered how Europe remains divided between nations that grasp this lesson – or never forgot it – and those that cling with obstinance to old delusions. Leading the former category are Poland, Finland, Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania. Having broken free of the Kremlin within living memory, these countries know exactly what it means to be invaded by Russia: they will do anything to prevent this from happening again.

And what of Britain? Despite Sir Keir Starmer’s grandiose rhetoric (“a battle-ready armour-clad nation”), Britain remains firmly imprisoned in the camp of the deluded. The PM revealed his priorities in the Budget when he preferred social policies over defence, such as appeasing Labour backbenchers by abolishing the two-child benefit cap. This Government will allocate another £17bn to welfare by 2030, the exact sum that would have allowed Britain to increase defence spending to 3 per cent of GDP. This looks as if Sir Keir has decided to place his own political survival – and the prejudices of his party – before the national security of his country, and for that there is bound to be a reckoning.

The outcome of those decisions is that Britain will enter 2026 at greater risk than was necessary. The perils ahead could scarcely be greater. The first and most immediate danger is that Donald Trump could collaborate with Putin to impose Russia’s peace terms on Ukraine. The guns along the frozen 800-mile front might then fall silent, but any respite would almost certainly be temporary while Russia rearms and regroups. If Putin achieves what he believes to be victory in Ukraine, he would be emboldened to come back for more. We should remember that today’s tragedy in Ukraine is Putin’s third war of attrition and conquest since the assault on Georgia in 2008. Like all aggressors, his appetite remains insatiable.

If there is a flawed peace in 2026, Putin’s next move could be a renewed attack on Ukraine, to achieve his original goal of subjugating the entire country. He might consider still more dangerous options. If he concludes that Mr Trump no longer cares about defending America’s allies, Putin could risk attacking a NATO member and the signs are ominous. If so, Britain would be obliged to stand with our allies and go to war with Russia, the world’s biggest nuclear power. Do we in Britain have any idea of what this would entail, or where such a crisis might lead?

There are still ways of ensuring that we never have to find out. We can rally our European allies to deliver more support to Ukraine, protecting Volodymyr Zelensky from being muscled into a false peace that rewards aggression. And we must do whatever is necessary to secure America’s commitment to NATO. Both imperatives require Britain and the rest of Europe to emulate Poland and its neighbours and spend far more on defence.

The second danger and the threat is rising is that China’s colossal military build-up might culminate in a confrontation with the United States and its allies in the Pacific. In 2025 alone, China commissioned 14 frigates and destroyers into its fleet; the Royal Navy, by contrast, has only 13 of these warships. 2026 has begun with China conducting intensive exercises in the waters around Taiwan, apparently simulating a blockade of that democratic island.

A full-scale invasion of Taiwan remains unlikely, this year, though Xi Jinping is believed to have ordered the People’s Liberation Army to be ready in 2027. But no possibility can be excluded and China’s lightning military expansion will heighten the danger. That threat is likely to reach its peak later in this decade.

Elsewhere, Mr Trump is going to have to decide whether to go to war in Venezuela to overthrow Nicolas Maduro’s autocracy. The biggest deployment of US forces in the Caribbean for nearly 40 years cannot be sustained indefinitely. If the president orders US forces into action, the first new conflict of 2026 would be a regime change operation in Caracas, probably combining air strikes with covert action on the ground.

Another authoritarian anti-Western leader who may be fearing for his regime’s future is Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, the Supreme Leader of Iran. The new year is opening with mass protests in Tehran and other cities.

The Ayatollah’s authority was severely weakened by the successful Israeli-US strike on Iran’s nuclear plants last June. As Khamenei approaches a point of maximum weakness, there must be a chance that 2026 could see the downfall of Iran’s regime, though no-one knows who will take over.

Above all, this has to be the year when Europe finally awakens to the threats and relearns the art of defending itself against aggression. If not, it may be too late to save the modern invention of peace.

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Arts, Books, Philosophy

Ludwig Wittgenstein: Philosophy in the Age of Airplanes

LITERARY REVIEW

Intro: This is a biography by Anthony Gottlieb. It offers a fresh perspective on one of the 20th century’s most complex thinkers by framing his philosophical evolution against the backdrop of the industrial and technological revolution  

IN October 1911, a 22-year-old postgraduate student in aeronautical engineering at the University of Manchester travelled by train to Cambridge. Intrigued by mathematical logic, he wanted to brainstorm and converse with Bertrand Russell, a newly arrived lecturer at Trinity College. A few months later, Russell amazed the young man’s eldest sister by telling her: “We expect the next big step in philosophy to be taken by your brother.”

And so, it proved to be. Ten years later, Ludwig Wittgenstein published his Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, a book that he strongly believed had solved all the fundamental problems of philosophy. It hadn’t, of course: philosophical problems are by definition intractably insoluble. Yet even though Wittgenstein would come to recant much of the Tractatus, it remains one of the 20th century’s great books.

The Tractatus is essentially a treatise on the limits of language, which, Wittgenstein argues, is useful only for the stating of facts. It follows that a great deal of what we say is literally meaningless. When we talk – as we so often do, about issues of morality, matters of religion, or questions of aesthetics, we use language within these areas that it’s simply not equipped to deal with. We are, according to Wittgenstein, talking nonsense. And that “we” includes philosophers – for they deal not in empirical statements (as scientists do), nor in tautologies (as mathematicians do), but merely in pseudo-problems engendered by the ineluctable and slippery confusions of language.

It should be said that Wittgenstein was none too happy with this – unlike the logical positivists, a grouping of naïve science-focused luvvies, who believed and accepted that the Tractatus was the final word on everything. Wittgenstein didn’t think that the only things that matter are what we can talk about, rather than what we can’t. For all its minatory sound, the Tractatus’s closing line – “Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent” – isn’t a cry of triumph but a howl of anguish. Philosophy ends not with a bang but a whimper.

Fittingly enough, the Tractatus was translated into English in 1922, the year of The Waste Land and Ulysses, and Ezra Pound’s declaration that this was “Year One of a new era”. For Wittgenstein’s book was no less modernist than Eliot’s or Joyce’s, not only in thought but in form too. A series of brief, numbered, and crystalline statements, it has an incantatory attraction that makes it one of those rare works of philosophy that you can read for pleasure.

And then Wittgenstein ripped it all up, proposing instead a radically new set of arguments fundamentally opposed to everything set forth in the Tractatus. Alas, he died in 1951, a couple of years before the publication of his second masterpiece, the Philosophical Investigations. In it, he grounded our problems with language not in logic, but in our own strictures on how language is used in practice.

Wittgenstein did more than just think. As Anthony Gottlieb shows in his elegantly brief biography, Ludwig Wittgenstein: Philosophy in the Age of Airplanes, quite a lot went on between the publication of those two great books.   

Wittgenstein was born in Vienna in 1889 to one of Europe’s wealthiest families (six days after Adolf Hitler; for a while, the two boys attended the same school). He was a peripatetic soul. Just as he gave up aeronautics to become a logician, so he gave up logic to train as an elementary-school teacher, gave up teaching to become a gardener at a monastery, and later gave that up to spend two years as a soi-disant architect designing a spookily perfect house, as austere in its design as the Tractatus, for his youngest sister, Gretl.

His love life was even less settled. One of history’s most tormented homosexuals, Wittgenstein was a tormentor in his turn. He was in the habit of proposing to women while being adamant that their marriage would be chaste. Nor were things easier for the invariably young men he loved, not least because he never told them he loved them. Wittgenstein said that David Pinsent, the dedicatee of the Tractatus, “took half my life away” when he died in a flying experiment a few months before the end of the Great War. Yet “there is no sign”, says Gottlieb, “that Pinsent was aware of such feelings… or that he felt them himself”.

And while the “boyish, kind, sensitive” Francis Skinner was assured of Wittgenstein’s love, Wittgenstein’s diaries reveal that he himself was none too certain: “Lay with him two or three times. Always at first with the feeling that it was nothing bad, then with shame.”

For all the flowing felicities of Gottlieb’s style, none of this is easy to read. Which is only right. Wittgenstein occupies such a prominent spot on the philosophical pantheon that it is good to be reminded that he wasn’t just the saintly sage as embodied in Ray Monk’s magnificent The Duty of Genius. He was human, all too human. Unimpeachably brilliant, he was also insufferably arrogant. As his no-less-brilliant friend Frank Ramsey groaned: “If you doubt the truth of what he says, he always thinks you can’t have understood it.” And for a man who argued that ethics can’t be meaningfully discussed, he spent a huge amount of time haranguing people moralistically. Norman Malcolm complained of “his tendency to be censorious”. Georg von Wright, one of Wittgenstein’s literary executors, said that talking with him “was terrible… like living through the day of judgment”.

To be sure, the person Wittgenstein was always hardest on was himself. Thoughts of suicide were rarely from his mind. More than one of his friends was made to listen while he read out a list of his lies and sins. And years after beating his pupils at a primary school in Austria, he returned to apologise to them individually. Before departing this world, he exclaimed: “Tell them I’ve had a wonderful life.” Maybe so, but one is bound to close this wonderful biography thinking that the linguistic philosopher JL Austin summed him up best: “Poor old Witters.”

– Ludwig Wittgenstein: Philosophy in the Age of Airplanes by Anthony Gottlieb is published by Yale University Press, 232pp

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Environment, Government, Politics, Science

Labour is urged to crack down on farmers spreading sludge

ENVIRONMENT

MINISTERS are coming under increasing pressure to stop farmers spreading byproducts of human sewage on fields over fears of “forever chemicals” getting into the food system.

Campaigners have urged Labour to clamp down on the use of sludge to fertilise agricultural land.

Also known as biosolids, sludge is produced by dewatering treated sewage. It is nutrient-rich and is spread across agricultural land, amounting to 3.6 million tonnes annually, says the Chartered Institute of Water and Environmental Management.

While the practice is regulated, academics and campaigners argue that rules governing the use of sludge have not kept pace with the science. Regulations have been unchanged since 1989.

Sludge can contain toxic waste from homes, including pharmaceuticals, flame retardants, and microplastics. Each gram of biosolid can hold up to 24 microplastic particles, representing 1pc of its weight, according to research from Cardiff University.

It is widely accepted in academic circles that sludge spreading is a major problem. Water companies profit from processing industrial waste containing “forever chemicals” that end up on farmland.

Forever chemicals, officially known as PFAS, do not break down in the human body or on the land. They are found in everything from carpet cleaners to corrosion-protecting products and have been widely used since the 1950s. They can cause cancer, harm the immune system, and damage the liver.

It is indicative, then, that water companies must take responsibility. And, if they will not act, the Government must legislate and ensure the upcoming White Paper tackles agricultural pollution. This is urgent because our soil and waterways are being contaminated with toxic, persistent chemicals, threatening food and water security.

The Government’s long-awaited White Paper on water industry reform is expected to be published in January. Despite repeated calls for a crackdown on sludge, the report cannot be allowed to ignore the issue.

It comes despite the Cunliffe Review calling for action. The report, to which the White Paper is a response, says: “There should be tighter regulation of sludge spreading on farmland, recognising that sludge may contain PFAS, pharmaceuticals and toxic metals, which have public health impacts.”

Alistair Boxall, professor of environmental science at the University of York, said he is increasingly concerned about long-term, low-level exposure to contaminants in sludge. He said: “We’re potentially exposed to these things our whole lifetime. The UK is not protecting its soils and its crops from this stuff.”

Research from the University of Plymouth has demonstrated that “nanoplastics” – particles so small they can penetrate cell membranes – are absorbed into the edible sections of crops. The study found that a single radish can eventually accumulate millions of these nanoplastics in its roots before they spread through the plant.

Sludge is an attractive option for farmers. While synthetic fertiliser costs £60 per tonne, sludge can be purchased for £1.50 per tonne. Water companies rely on farmers to take the substance, which is an unavoidable byproduct of wastewater management.

There is always the matter of liability in any looming scandal, and this needs addressed. Public health is a serious issue. Neither the water companies who supply the product, or farmers who use it, be exonerated from blame.

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