Category: Analysis

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Nicholas Dickinson, Lecturer in Politics, University of Exeter

When independent MPs Jeremy Corbyn and Zarah Sultana launched their new political venture in July 2025, they did so under a name that seemed almost deliberately empty: “Your Party”. Initially dismissed as a placeholder, the name is now official, having been narrowly confirmed by members at the party’s inaugural conference in November.

The name won just 37% of the vote against alternatives including “For the Many”, “Popular Alliance” and “Our Party”. The contested nature of this choice, and the peculiar blandness of the winning option, reflects a deeper crisis in how the far left names itself in the contemporary era.

Ten years ago, my research into 20th-century British Marxist groups revealed that these organisations once operated within what I characterise as a coherent naming culture. Terms like “communist”, “workers” and “socialist” were commonly used and carried substantial symbolic weight. Throughout the 20th century, British Leninist groups used these terms not merely as brands but mechanisms to articulate their identity, legitimacy and relationship to the revolutionary tradition.

The patterns were remarkably consistent within each tradition. Orthodox communist groups emerging from the Communist Party of Great Britain (CPGB), which was founded in 1920, showed complete conformity – every single one retained “Communist party” in its name, even decades after splitting from the CPGB.

Anti-revisionist groups, influenced by Maoism, displayed a different pattern. Of the 11 groups I studied, nine used “communist”. More significantly, seven appended “Marxist-Leninist” to their names – an attempt to reconnect some of the smallest and most peripheral groups, often with only a handful of members, back to a grander tradition of messianic leaders.

Most revealing were the Trotskyist groups. Of 13 major organisations, only five used “communist” at any point. Of the remainder, six instead opted for “socialist” in their name and six included the word “revolutionary”. The word “workers” featured in four names. This diversity masked fundamental instability in leftist politics. Most Trotskyist groups changed their names at least twice.

The left’s endless internecine disputes on nomenclature were infamously satirised in Monty Python’s riff on the idea of the Judean People’s Front. It’s hard not to detect some of these dynamics also at play in Your Party’s troubled launch.

When Lenin rebranded “social democracy” as “communism” in 1917, he was not simply changing a label but investing enormous symbolic capital in a term that would shape leftwing politics for seven decades. The Communist Party of Great Britain, founded in 1920, became the anchor of this naming culture in Britain, with splinter groups and rivals forced to negotiate their position relative to these established terms.

This naming system became increasingly dysfunctional over time. By the 1970s, even terms like “party” had become almost impossible to define coherently within the Leninist tradition. Was a “party” the revolutionary vanguard waiting for its moment in history, or a conventional electoral organisation competing for votes?

When the Socialist Workers Party emerged in 1977 from its predecessor International Socialist, it attempted to embody both definitions simultaneously, presenting itself as both a mass political party and a disciplined Leninist cadre. This contradiction contributed to rapid, often confusing shifts in strategy that alienated members and observers alike.

Whose party?

Your Party emerges from the wreckage of this collapsed naming system. The term “communist” was largely unusable in British politics by 1991. “Marxist-Leninist” had become a punchline even within the far left. “Workers” sounded antiquated in a deindustrialised Britain. Even “socialist” carries decades of baggage. What remained? A name so generic it barely qualified as one at all.

The genius and the problem of the name Your Party are inseparable. The name refuses to make the traditional ideological commitments that far-left names once signalled. It does not claim to be the vanguard party, does not invoke workers or socialism, and does not even claim ownership of itself through terms like “our party” – which, tellingly, came last in the naming vote. Instead, it performs a nominal sleight-of-hand, suggesting both maximal democracy (“it’s yours!”) and minimal commitment.

This vagueness might appear strategically savvy in an age of widespread distrust of traditional party structures. But the chaotic conference that ratified the name suggests otherwise. The bitter disputes over collective versus individual leadership, the expulsions of members, and Sultana’s boycott of the first day all point to unresolved issues. When 20th-century Trotskyist groups battled over whether to call themselves a “league”, “tendency” or “party”, those were not merely semantic disputes but arguments about organisational structure and democratic accountability, encoded in nomenclature.

Your Party attempts to avoid these arguments by adopting a name that articulates no clear position. But the politics of naming cannot be escaped so easily. What does “Your” signify when members cannot agree on basic questions of leadership or membership rules? Whose party is it, ultimately?

The polling data tells a sobering story. Support for Your Party fell from 18% in July 2025 to just 12% by November, while the Green party, with its clear brand identity, experienced a membership surge. Perhaps voters and activists sense the same problem that plagued late 20th-century Leninist groups – when you cannot articulate what your name signifies, you cannot sustain a coherent political project.

The collapse of Leninist naming culture reflected the exhaustion of a symbolic system where words like communist and workers had been stretched to accommodate too many contradictions. Your Party represents an attempt to build something new without that vocabulary. But in trying to avoid the old mistakes, it may have created a new one – a name so empty that it cannot provide the symbolic foundation a political organisation requires.

Nicholas Dickinson does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Your Party: if the name sounds terrible, there’s a good reason for it – https://theconversation.com/your-party-if-the-name-sounds-terrible-theres-a-good-reason-for-it-271419

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Elaine Jackson, PhD Candidate, University of Glasgow; University of the West of Scotland

On the surface, the rationale for the UK government’s proposals to limit the use of jury trials in England and Wales is pragmatic. Over 78,000 crown court cases remain unresolved, creating years-long delays for victims and defendants alike.

But among those of us who research jury behaviour and decision-making, these proposals raise a deeper debate. Some argue that juries are too biased, too unreliable to deliver justice.

Their hope is that if we could replace them with trained legal professionals, we might finally reduce the role that bias plays in the courtroom. But is this even possible?

All observation is “theory-laden”. Scientists, politicians, judges and jurors are not immune to their biases and worldviews influencing their decision-making.

Both judges and juries bring biases to the courtroom. The critical difference is that juries are more diverse than a single judge. Today, 89% of judges are white, 61% are men, and around a third attended private school. Fewer than 10% come from lower socioeconomic backgrounds.

This class and educational homogeneity matters profoundly. Judges who attended private school and Russell Group universities share not just demographic characteristics but formative experiences. Their relationships with authority, economic security, educational advantage and professional networks are likely to be less diverse than those of a jury.

Different social positions provide access to different knowledge. Someone who attended private school, joined chambers and rose through the judiciary simply hasn’t lived through experiences that would provide insight into many people’s lives.

For example, this might include how economic precarity affects people’s decisions, how working-class communities relate to police authority, or how educational disadvantages affect your ability to navigate bureaucratic systems.

These aren’t biases in the sense of prejudice. They are inevitable limitations of a single perspective.

Read more:
Limiting jury trials will harm minority ethnic victims and defendants, research shows

When judges assess whether behaviour was “reasonable” or a complainant’s response was “credible”, they are making ethical evaluations that mix facts with values. A judge evaluating whether a working-class defendant’s actions were reasonable brings their own class experience to that judgment, whether they recognise it or not.

Twelve randomly selected citizens bring 12 different life experiences. Through deliberation, they must make those experiences visible and justify their interpretation to each other.

If a judge makes a decision on their own, only their own biases will influence the verdict. In a jury, consensus needs to be reached. Different opinions and perspectives will shape the outlooks of others. This makes the verdict more informed by community beliefs, rather than from specific sections of the community.

The human “bias” we worry about in juries is actually the diversity of experience and judgment that may improve group decision-making. Homogeneity masquerades as objectivity. Trials should be decided by the people – and the various human experiences they bring to the courtroom.

A jury drawn from the electoral register might include someone who left school at 16, someone who has experienced unemployment or housing insecurity, someone who’s worked in manual labour, or someone from a community where police relations are fraught. These aren’t just different backgrounds, they are different forms of knowledge about how society works for many people.

This diversity is important for both defendants and victims. Evidence shows that judges may be more likely to convict defendants compared with juries.

Any changes towards judge-only trials may disadvantage future defendants when compared with the current system, where a defendant can choose the option of a jury trial for certain types of offence.

How jury deliberation reduces bias

Our research – part of Elaine Jackson’s PhD – investigated Scottish jury deliberations in rape cases, revealing what kinds of bias jurors bring to them by staging a series of mock trials.

The research shows the influence of rape myths – stereotypes and false assumptions about how rape victims and perpetrators behave – in the courtroom, and how juries can both perpetuate and mitigate their influence.

Across 90 jurors in one mock trial, we identified 180 instances of rape myths. These included victim blaming, demanding impossible proof, framing assault as “heat of the moment”, and using “real rape” stereotypes such as expecting severe injuries and immediate reporting. These myths were pervasive across juror populations, not simply held by a few outliers.

But we also observed that jury deliberation could challenge these assumptions. Both guilty verdicts occurred when a strong foreperson (the jury’s spokesperson) voiced immediate challenges to these myths, or trauma-informed jurors countered these frameworks. For example, when one juror suggested that the accused offering wine to the victim meant sexual invitation, another challenged them, asking: “According to what logic?”

We believe it’s positive that the UK government’s proposals will retain jury trials in cases of rape and murder. In serious crimes, we need diversity of thought and opinion in our decision-making.

This collective scrutiny, 12 different perspectives negotiating with each other, is something an individual judge cannot replicate.

While judges may consult colleagues, at trial stage they ultimately decide alone – without a formal deliberation requiring them to defend their interpretations to others who have equal decision-making authority. A diverse jury has this built-in corrective mechanism, which is why it must remain a part of the UK’s legal system.

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The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Jurors aren’t impartial – that’s exactly why they are so important to justice – https://theconversation.com/jurors-arent-impartial-thats-exactly-why-they-are-so-important-to-justice-271322

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Sam Power, Lecturer in Politics, University of Bristol

When the latest figures on donations to political parties were released, it was revealed that businessman Christopher Harborne had donated £9 million to Reform. Harborne, who lives in Thailand, made his fortune on aviation and cryptocurrency. Reform leader Nigel Farage insists he wants nothing in return for the money and that the two speak once a month or every six weeks.

Harborne’s is the biggest one-off donation by a living individual in British history. But he’s far from alone in giving massive amounts to parties. Financier Stuart Wheeler gave £5 million to the Conservatives in 2001 which is actually £9.5 million in today’s money. Frank Hester donated £15 million to the Tories just before the 2024 election but broke it up a little bit so nobody seems to care or remember.

Harborne’s gift amounts to a quite significant boost to Reform’s coffers. For context, Reform received £1.3 million in the reporting period directly prior to this one, and just £70,000 in the same period a year ago (donations figures that aggregate to over £11,180 are released quarterly).

But as I have shown elsewhere, political donations are cyclical and the receipt of them tends to ratchet up in advance of elections. Next May – with elections in Scotland, Wales and a seemingly bruising set of locals set for Labour – is seen to be a time where Reform can lay a marker as the “true” opposition party. So it’s less surprising to see such big figures this far out of a general election.

The fact that Harborne has donated to the Conservatives in the past, as well as to Boris Johnson’s private office when he was prime minister, has been taken by some as indicative of a donor exodus from the Tories to Farage’s outfit. But that’s premature, we’ve seen some small movement to Reform in the figures since the 2024 election, and several stories about Reform-curious Tory donors but no real sea change in this respect.

The research is also fairly settled that donors tend to give money to parties for three reasons: they agree with them (they are ideological), they like the access it provides (they are intimates) or they want something in return (they are investors).

There is a long history of donors as pragmatic investors, thinking long and hard about how their money can be best spent to achieve their aims and effectively spreading their bets (though that is much more common in systems of proportional representation).

As one donor said during the 2024 election, when it became increasingly apparent Rishi Sunak was failing to bring in significant amounts of money: “Any self-respecting businessperson conducts due diligence before an investment decision. Time will tell whether smart money will back Mr Sunak”. Reader, it didn’t.

So, while donors do tend to be ideologues in the UK, there is some precedent for them changing lanes. The aforementioned Wheeler ended up as Ukip treasurer, for example. And given that British politics is increasingly characterised by fragmentation, it would be little surprise if donors started following the voters in shopping around.

Rise of the mega donor

What this donation also speaks to, though, is an increasingly worrying trend in British politics, which is the rise of the mega-donor. The very rich have always made up the vast majority of the donor class but there are signs this has become supercharged in recent years.

As investigative journalist Peter Geoghegan points out, 75% of all donations to Reform and its predecessor the Brexit Party since 2019 have come from three men: Harborne, deputy leader Richard Tice and businessman Jeremy Hosking.

Hester’s donations to the Conservatives in the run up to the 2024 election, meanwhile, equated to about 63% of the party’s entire spend on the campaign.

When almost exactly a year ago Elon Musk mooted a £70 million donation to Reform, which never materialised, it felt like a canary in the coalmine. That, if something wasn’t done, the UK was moving towards an increasingly Americanised system of glorified oligarchy.

In the US, remember, it’s no longer even a case of the 1% having all the power. Across the pond, the top 0.01% of donors accounted for 50% of all funds raised in 2024.

There is currently no upper limit on political donations. Parties have debated bringing one in for 25 years but can never agree to actually doing so – despite the fact the public (including Reform voters) backs the idea.

This is because any significant cap set at, say, £10,000 a year (as suggested by the Committee on Standards in Public Life and Transparency International) or £100,000 (which is think-tank the IPPR’s preference) would mean injecting more state funding into the system. Which the public hates just about as much (if not more) than the idea of mega-donors.

This leaves everyone in a “damned-if-you-do, damned-if-you-don’t” system of inertia and paralysis. It’s the kind of frustrating state of affairs which causes me to write book chapters with titles like “What do you do when the voters are wrong?” (which is reason #51 that I could never be an MP) and a similarly frustrated political scientist to remark: “parties need money: but not mine, not from my taxes, and not from interest groups”.

My solution, when faced with this, is that doing something is better than nothing. It’s why I think there’s utility in what I call a “democracy backstop” cap of £1 million.

It would do little to allay public fears that the very rich have outsize influence on politics, but I’m not sure there’s a limit low enough that can, and I do (literally) have a PhD’s worth of research to back me up on that. It would, though, put the brakes on just a little bit.

Let’s not forget that Labour has said it will introduce an elections bill in this parliament. That means it is not quite too late, but the time to act is very much now.

Sam Power has received funding from the Economic and Social Research Council and the Engineering and Physical Sciences Research Council.

– ref. Reform’s £9m gift and the rise of the political mega-donor – https://theconversation.com/reforms-9m-gift-and-the-rise-of-the-political-mega-donor-271428

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Christopher Adam, Professor of Development Economics, University of Oxford

Headlines about tax in the UK being at an all-time high abounded after the autumn budget. The current overall tax take, at 35% of GDP, is indeed a historic high for the country. And the measures announced in the budget will take it to 38% by the end of the parliament.

Yet, contrary to what some might have you believe, it is only high by British standards.

If the UK wants a decent welfare system in the coming years, it’s time to start doing things differently. But this can’t just mean raising taxes to meet the growing demands of an ageing society.

The structure of the UK’s tax system must be fixed before politicians even think about further rises, since its complexity and distortions hold back investment, productivity and long-term growth.

In 2023, the tax take as a percentage of GDP was 35.3%, slightly above the overall average for the 38 countries in the Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD). This placed the UK 18th on the list and almost two percentage points lower than the average of other European members.

But even the new figure of 38% does not take the UK anywhere near the top. It matches Germany, but remains significantly lower than the tax take in France, Italy, Belgium and the Nordic countries, where the tax share exceeds 40% of GDP.

The UK has a deep productivity problem. Real wage growth has collapsed from being third best among OECD countries before 2008 to 16th afterwards. Without a recovery, the country will not be able to maintain levels of public provision, let alone reboot the health and public support systems.

The welfare system certainly needs a reboot, as our latest research shows. In health, the NHS is grappling with some of the longest waiting lists on record as well as delivering comparatively poor results. At the same time, thousands of people are stuck in hospital due to the lack of affordable social care.

Social housing is increasingly out of reach for those who need it: the gains of the right to buy policy of the 1980s have been confined to those who bought their council houses, while the costs of that mass sell-off are borne by the state and today’s poor in the form of housing shortages and high rents.

Perhaps most damning of all, child poverty has risen steadily since 2010 and is now among the highest in the OECD.

The pressures on the system will only grow. The ageing population is dramatically increasing pension costs and the demand for social care. Advances in healthcare, while holding out the prospect of longer and higher-quality lives, are also extending the years that people can live with chronic conditions. This is particularly true among lower-income groups who often lack the means to maintain their health.

The health and social care sector is one where the real cost of delivery is rising, so the UK will need to increase the resources flowing into it just to stand still.

The pension triple lock is continuing to exacerbate the pressure on public finances. Meanwhile, precarious and low-paid employment means millions of people still rely on in-work benefits. And the post-COVID surge in health and disability-related personal independence payments (Pip) shows no signs of abating.

What kind of country does the UK want to be?

We see two feasible paths forward to fix the distortions in the tax system while ensuring that those who need the welfare state don’t fall through the widening cracks. But here’s the rub. Both would be extremely difficult politically.

First, the UK could accept that a universal welfare state is not affordable, and radically reshape and target it. The question is whether the public would tolerate deeper means-testing, for instance, which might represent a genuine reshaping of the welfare state.

The founder of the welfare state, William Beveridge, understood that his system required not only technical solutions but a compelling narrative about social solidarity where all citizens bought into its core principles.

Second, the country could engage in a genuinely open debate on the cost of and willingness to pay for welfare services. It could then fix the tax system to fund comprehensive welfare provision, moving toward European-style social insurance systems.

The UK spends just over 11% of GDP on welfare, placing it near the OECD average and well below Nordic countries and France. The fact that overall tax take of 35% rising to 38% is a historic high makes any conversation about taxation hard – perhaps impossible.

But UK outcomes compared to those of its neighbours who spend more should be food for thought. The answer cannot be in stealth taxes.

The budget mainly just walked a path of continuation from a long period of piecemeal reforms that may not achieve what they are intended to. It raised revenue primarily through fiscal drag (the freezing of tax thresholds so that rising pay pushes more people into higher brackets).

It did remove the regressive limit on universal credit or tax credits for larger families, but in the main it continues to follow a path of least political resistance. This is likely to result in the gradual emergence of a two-tier system where those who can afford it increasingly opt for private healthcare, private housing and private education.

Given how much resistance the government is facing even now, perhaps the path of least resistance is the only option available. But perhaps a braver conversation is possible – one that spells out the human tragedy of under-investing in welfare and the economic problems of continuing with the current UK tax structure.

What won’t work is pretending these choices don’t exist. The UK has neither the benefits of low taxes nor the welfare outcomes of its higher-tax neighbours. It’s time to redesign the tax and welfare system for the century we’re in.

The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Low-tax or high-welfare? The UK must decide what type of country it wants to be – https://theconversation.com/low-tax-or-high-welfare-the-uk-must-decide-what-type-of-country-it-wants-to-be-271231

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Jonathan Este, Senior International Affairs Editor, Associate Editor, The Conversation

This newsletter was first published in The Conversation UK’s World Affairs Briefing email. Sign up to receive weekly analysis of the latest developments in international relations, direct to your inbox.

The US secretary of state, Marco Rubio, believes that Russia’s strategy is to outlast Ukraine and its allies in a war of attrition. Rubio told Fox News host Sean Hannity this week that the Russian president, Vladimir Putin, had made it clear that he is determined to achieve his war aims even though it may “cost more and take longer” than Russia wants it to.

Rubio’s words appear to be borne out by the most recent negotiations in the Kremlin this week. Rubio wasn’t there this time. Instead the US president sent special envoy Steve Witkoff and Jared Kushner (Trump’s son-in-law). As Alexandros Koutsoukis of the University of Lancaster notes, replacing diplomats with dealmakers has been a feature of the way the US has approached this peace process.

Read more:
Ukraine’s peace talks reveal the risks of replacing diplomats with dealmakers

A detailed account of their meeting with the Russian president and his aides has yet to be published, but the takeaway from that meeting was that Putin was not in the mood for compromise. While acknowledging the talks had been “useful, constructive and meaningful”, Putin’s aide, Yuri Ushakov, concluded that: “We are no closer to resolving the crisis in Ukraine.”

But it’s well worth noting a comment of Putin’s, delivered shortly before the meeting, which may shed some valuable light on what appears to be Russia’s long game, something becoming clearer as the conflict gets closer to its fourth anniversary. Putin accused Kyiv’s European allies of trying to scupper a peace deal with “absolutely unacceptable” demands. Ushakov meanwhile commented that “some American proposals appear more or less acceptable”.

This, writes Intigam Mamedov – an expert in conflict and security at Leiden University – appears to be a direct reference to the draft deal developed jointly between Russia and the US over a few days in Miami in late November. That 28-point proposal was viewed by Ukraine and its European allies as a non-starter, hanging as it did on Kyiv giving up the whole of the Donetsk and Luhansk regions, including territory that Russia has not been able to take by force. It also called for Ukraine to give up all hope of ever joining Nato and accept a limit on the size of its armed forces.

Mamedov sees a longer-term project here. Whatever Putin hopes to gain from the war in Ukraine itself, the more protracted and bloody the war in Ukraine becomes, the bigger a wedge it drives between the US and Europe. Hence all the talk of US proposals being constructive and Europe’s being unacceptable.

The conflict is also exposing deep divisions within Europe over the plan to raise €90 billion (£78 billion) to help Ukraine sustain its resistance, either by leveraging frozen Russian assets or by borrowing on the international markets. Belgium is very unhappy about the former plan, as the bulk of Russia’s frozen assets are held there potentially exposing it to liability if the loan is not repaid.

Meanwhile Hungary and Slovakia oppose funding Ukrainian defence and are also planning a legal challenge to an EU plan to halt imports of Russian liquefied natural gas (LNG) by the end of 2026 and shut off pipeline supplies by the end of the following year.

Read more:
Impasse at the Kremlin: here’s what we know after the latest US-Russia talks

Whatever the outcome of talks, writes Roman Birke, it’s appearing increasingly likely that Ukraine will be forced to give up territory in return for peace. This is a denial of core principles of international law and the United Nations charter, which forbids “the threat or use of force against the territorial integrity or political independence of any state”.

Birke, an expert in modern European history at Dublin City University, believes rewarding Russian aggression with territory will “confirm that, in the 21st century, European borders can be redrawn by military force once more”. Birke recalls the work of Hugo Grotius, a Dutch lawyer born in 1583, who was one of the most influential thinkers of his time on the laws of warfare.

Grotius put forward the idea that only just wars where a state is defending itself against aggression or to enforce its legitimate property rights, should be legal. But eventually, disillusioned, by the violent world around him, he concluded that all states making war would simply claim theirs was a just war (a little like Putin is doing now in Ukraine) and that this risked other countries feeling obliged to back the side they believed was right. In that way, wars can quickly spread, be concluded.

Birke is concerned that rewarding Russia for its aggression by handing over bits of Ukraine would return the world to a Grotian state, in which less powerful states can be attacked with impunity. Might would become right, in other words.

Read more:
Ukraine peace talks reveal a world slipping back into an acceptance of war

We recently marked the 30th anniversary of the signing, in an air force base in Ohio, of a treaty to bring an end to the appalling conflict in the former Yugoslavia. The Dayton accords was signed on November 21 1995 and again, in a public ceremony in Paris on December 14, by the presidents of Bosnia and Herzegovina, Croatia, and Serbia, bringing to an end three years of bloodshed and ethnic cleansing.

International security experts Stefan Wolff of the University of Birmingham and Argyro Kartsonaki of the University of Hamburg see some useful parallels between the peace process in the Balkans and the attempts to bring an end to the war in Ukraine. The first, and arguably most vital, factor at play there was US leadership in Nato, which intervened with bombing missions to force Serbia to the table. There were robust security guarantees put in place and the treaty was a detailed (if imperfect) plan which aimed to ensure hostilities would not resume.

Thirty years on peace has largely held, although it remains tentative and the increasing confidence of Serbian separatists could still cause Bosnia and Herzegovina to disintegrate into its constituent parts, which possible horrific consequences.

But, as Wolff and Kartsonaki conclude, for all Dayton’s imperfections, “even an imperfect agreement may be preferable to an unending, and likely unwinnable, war”.

Read more:
Thirty years after the Balkans peace deal, a different US leadership is fumbling the war in Ukraine

Death in the Caribbean

To Washington, where the focus is on the sequence of events leading up to the first of the US attacks on so-called Venezuelan drug boats in the Caribbean. It was recently alleged in the Washington Post that the US secretary of war, Pete Hegseth, had given an order that there were to be no survivors of the attack on September 2, which killed 11 people – nine in the initial strike on the boat and, we’re told, the remaining two, reportedly as they clung on to the boat radioing for assistance.

The full details of the incident have yet to emerge and, as Hegseth himself has claimed, there is always a lot of confusion in “the fog of war”. That said, the secretary of war has been quick to pass responsibility for the second strike on to the ranking military officer present in the situation room, Admiral Frank M. (Mitch) Bradley.

But in a political climate in which high-ranking former US officers such as Mark Kelly, a former US navy officer and astronaut who is now a Democrat senator, could face prosecution for urging members of the US military not to obey orders that are clearly illegal, this episode is a potential flashpoint.

But in the end this incident should not obscure an arguably more important issue with the US strikes on these Venezuelan boats: international law forbids extrajudicial killing. Andrew Bell and Thomas Gift explain the issues at stake.

Read more:
US accused of killing Venezuelan drug boat survivors – Trump’s military agenda is based on impunity

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– ref. Why Vladimir Putin’s in no hurry for peace – https://theconversation.com/why-vladimir-putins-in-no-hurry-for-peace-271350