About ten years ago I visited Dioundiou, a village in Niger two hundred kilometres south-east of the capital Niamey, and met a man known as Albert Camus. Hosseini Tahirou Amadou was the village history teacher. Nicknamed after his favourite writer, he was an expert on the events of 24 February 1899, the day a French colonial contingent turned up in the village demanding water, food and women. When the residents resisted, the French destroyed the village with cannon, massacred 373 people (according to Amadou’s research) and kidnapped hundreds of women. Even then, Amadou talked of bringing France to justice one day.
The Lviv National Opera opened to the public on 4 October 1900. It has remained open for the last 125 years under nine different governing authorities, including the Habsburg Empire, the Second Polish Republic and the Soviet Union. One consistent commitment throughout that time has been to preserve and perform Ukrainian operas and ballets, an effort that was redoubled following the full-scale invasion in 2022.
On 30 October, days after the largest police massacre in the history of a city infamous for them, which left at least 121 dead, President Lula approved a law to fight organised crime. He expressed sympathy, first, for four dead policemen, then for innocent residents and children murdered in the ‘mega-operation’ in the Complexo da Penha and the Complexo do Alemão, in the north of Rio de Janeiro. A photographer discovered the head of one young Comando Vermelho soldier, 19-year-old Yago Ravel Rodrigues Rosário, on a tree. He had no criminal record, but we know he was CV from his social media feeds. Police killed more people than the number of weapons recovered.
A man searches for a mobile phone signal from the roof of a house damaged by Hurricane Melissa, Black River, Jamaica, 30 October 2025 (AP / Matias Delacroix / Alamy)
I got a text from Denico last Wednesday afternoon: ‘I’m okay bro it’s a disaster.’ Power remained down across 75 per cent of Jamaica, and that was all I heard from him for a few days. Aerial footage of rural St Elizabeth showed houses that looked as if they had exploded, with wooden beams and bits of roof strewn everywhere, and birds-eye views into people’s bedrooms. The landscape looks as if it’s been trampled on, the trees stripped sandy brown.
Since President Nixon declared war on drugs in 1971, US policies of mass incarceration at home and interdiction and enforcement abroad have failed to achieve their stated aims. Instead, they have accelerated violence across the hemisphere. As the historian Alexander Aviña has pointed out, the ‘war on drugs’ is best understood as a ‘war on poor people’. It has recently entered a deadly new phase. Over the last month, the US government has launched at least eleven strikes on boats in the Caribbean and the eastern Pacific. The Trump administration has claimed, without providing evidence, that the boats were transporting illegal drugs. The strikes have killed at least 57 people. These are summary executions without trial. Amnesty International has called it a ‘murder spree’.
As Starmer drove Labour to the right, the Greens argued for a wealth tax and against the genocide in Gaza. Zack Polanski’s pitch in the leadership contest, in which he got 85 per cent of the vote, was an attack on billionaires and landlords. Where once the aim was incremental electoral advance, it is now to challenge for power.
In late 1952, builders working in the Old Court of Corpus Christi College, Cambridge, removed two boards from under an old gas fire. The student living in the room, Peter Denyer Hall, noticed that the boards formed two halves of an ancient, decayed and badly faded portrait.