Politics

As Ukraine emerges battered but unbowed from the third and most terrible winter of the war against Russia, its people have proved that they can survive and fight on even as Vladimir Putin's troops destroy swaths of their country’s heating, transport and electricity infrastructure. But one thing that Ukraine cannot survive without is money – and that, the European Union seems critically unable to provide.  On Thursday, a Council of Europe summit once again failed to remove a veto by Hungary’s prime minister, Viktor Orbán, on a €90 billion ($104 billion) tranche of funding for Ukraine.

From the modern metropolises of Moscow and St. Petersburg to Arkhangelsk on the permafrosted northern coast and Khabarovsk on the Chinese border, for over a week now, Russian cities have been experiencing unprecedented interruptions to mobile internet coverage. Ostensibly for security reasons, the rumor mill has inevitably cranked out all kinds of alternative explanations, from fear of a coup to preparations for a comprehensive imposition of state control on the "runet," Russia's online world. Notions that Vladimir Putin fears some imminent coup can most quickly be laid to rest. There is dissatisfaction with the continuing war and its economic consequences, but nothing to suggest anything more serious.

I am sorry to hear of the death of Stanford University Professor of Biology Paul R. Ehrlich at the age of 93, but to read his writings you wonder whether it is an event he might actually want us to celebrate. It does, after all, mean one less mouth to feed. Just another 6.5 billion people to go and we will be down to what in 2018 he stated was the world’s optimum population of between 1.5 to 2 billion. Ehrlich’s 1968 book, The Population Bomb – written with his wife Anne whose name his publisher famously kept off the front cover – established Ehrlich as the world’s latter-day Malthusian-in-chief.

"Vanity of vanities... all is vanity." Ecclesiastes had a point, but he never met a Luftwaffe fighter pilot. For the young Germans who hurled their Messerschmitts at enemy planes over the Channel, the Reich, and the Eastern Front, there was one object that could make them forget their odds of survival: a small iron cross, worn at the throat, called the Ritterkreuz – the Knight's Cross. To many, it was worth more than money, more than leave, more than the quiet relief of making it home in one piece. It meant you were the best. And everyone could see it.