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India.com
a day ago
- Politics
- India.com
Putin's U.S. Playbook: How Russian Leader Has Tested Every American President
New Delhi: Russian President Vladimir Putin approaches his upcoming summit in Alaska with U.S. President Donald Trump with a wealth of experience: 48 meetings with five American presidents over 25 years. Spanning Bill Clinton to Joe Biden, the interactions trace a journey from initial optimism to tense standoffs and highlight how Putin has courted, challenged and frustrated U.S. leaders. Clinton Era: 2000 Less than three months into his presidency, Putin hosted then American President Bill Clinton in Moscow. The Kremlin tour ended with a jazz performance. Clinton praised Russia's ratification of two arms control treaties and highlighted the nation's chance to grow under Putin while preserving freedom. Putin called the United States 'one of our main partners' and emphasised cooperation. Chechnya remained a sensitive issue after the apartment bombings in 1999, but early meetings showed hope for a constructive U.S.-Russia relationship. Bush Years: 2001-2008 After 9/11 attacks, Putin was first to call then U.S. President George W. Bush to offer support. The latter welcomed him to Crawford, Texas, and drove him to a ranch waterfall. Later meetings reflected growing unease as NATO expansion and Iraq tensions emerged. Bush hosted Putin in Maine for a fishing trip, where the Russian president caught the only fish, releasing it afterward. Their final encounter in Sochi focussed on European missile defense disagreements, ending with mutual acknowledgment of differences but preserving personal rapport. Obama Period: 2009-2016 As prime minister, Putin met President Obama in Moscow and Northern Ireland. Disagreements over Russia's 2008 invasion of Georgia and Syria were clear. At the 2013 G8 Summit, an awkward photo captured the growing frustration. By 2016, at the APEC Summit in Peru, exchanges lasted barely four minutes in the middle of allegation of U.S.-engineered coups and Crimea sanctions. Trump Era: 2018 Trump and Putin met in Helsinki for a highly publicised one-on-one. Despite controversies over election interference, the Russian leader expressed optimism about cooperation on global challenges. Trump publicly accepted Putin's denial of interference, drawing widespread attention. The two met six times during Trump's first term. Biden Era: 2021 Ex-President Joe Biden met Putin in Geneva as relations had reached a low point. The former addressed election interference, cyberattacks and troop buildups along Ukraine's border. The summit reset ties slightly, agreeing to reappoint ambassadors. Months later, Russia invaded Ukraine and it sparked Europe's largest conflict since World War II, a war Trump aims to end in the upcoming Alaska summit. From jazz concerts and fishing trips to sanctions and war, Putin's encounters with U.S. presidents reveal a leader adept at shaping diplomacy on his terms. Each meeting reflects his evolving strategy, from building partnerships to testing the limits of American patience.
The Independent
21-07-2025
- Politics
- The Independent
Bob Geldof threatened to quit high-profile Tony Blair group after just one meeting
Musician Bob Geldof once threatened to storm out of Tony Blair 's Commission for Africa, warning it was in danger of becoming "a laughable grotesque", according to newly released government files. The Live Aid campaigner was instrumental in convincing Mr Blair to establish the commission, which was intended to examine the continent's problems before a crucial G8 summit at Gleneagles, Scotland, chaired by the UK. However, official papers released to the National Archives in Kew, west London, reveal Mr Geldof's outrage when – after just one meeting – the commissioners were sent a document setting its "emerging conclusions". Mr Geldof wrote an angry letter, dated 9 August 2004 and addressed to the economist Sir Nicholas Stern, the commission's director of policy. In it, the musician said it was impossible to have come to any conclusions in such a short period of time. He was not prepared to serve on a body which was simply there to push "pre-determined government policy", he warned. 'To be clear, policy must be determined by the commission independently sitting and independently deliberating and concluding of its own volition. This distinction is vital. If I have got this wrong please inform me so I may tender my resignation,' he wrote. 'More broadly, the whole notion of emerging solutions is laughable. If the solution to the misery of Africa can be 'concluded' within a mere six week time span, it is a truly remarkable feat. 'How blind we must all have been these past years. The fact is that there are not and cannot as yet be any emerging conclusions. 'The commission will lose all credibility if it is not clearly seen to be an independent entity. If it seems to advance pre-determined government policy it will be correctly viewed as a laughable grotesque.' Mr Geldof went on to complain that the involvement of some of the commissioners – including some of those from Africa – appeared to have been 'minimal'. 'Is it not the secretariat's function, on behalf of the chair, to ensure that this is not the case? Or is this all some farcical political game played out at the expense of the wretchedly poor? If so, I ain't playing.' Sir Nicholas wrote back hurriedly to assure Mr Geldof the that the document was not an attempt to pre-empt the commission's findings. The input from British politicians had been 'comparatively minor', he wrote. 'Far from being an attempt to rush conclusions the paper is intended to to be a tool to help promote discussion and ensure a real interchange between commissioners at the second meeting in October. 'I would be very keen to sit down and discuss these questions with you; perhaps we could meet for a drink as soon as we are both around?' Mr Geldof's reply is not recorded in the files, but he was sufficiently placated to carry on. After the Gleneagles summit the following year agreed to double aid to Africa and extend debt relief, he hailed it as 'mission accomplished'.
Scotsman
08-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Scotsman
The day Edinburgh helped to make the world a better place
The crowd at the Live 8 Edinburgh concert at Murrayfield Stadium on July 6, 2005 (Picture:) Twenty years ago, Edinburgh helped make the world a better place by playing its part in the Make Poverty History and Live 8 campaigns. Sign up to our daily newsletter Sign up Thank you for signing up! Did you know with a Digital Subscription to Edinburgh News, you can get unlimited access to the website including our premium content, as well as benefiting from fewer ads, loyalty rewards and much more. Learn More Sorry, there seem to be some issues. Please try again later. Submitting... This weekend I watched the amazing BBC documentaries about the 40th anniversary of Live Aid and the 20th anniversary of Live 8 and Make Poverty History. Whilst the G8 Summit took place at Gleneagles, it was Edinburgh that hosted the major demonstrations, Scotland's biggest ever march and the final Live 8 Concert at Murrayfield. These were historic and world changing events. Bob Geldof and Bono seized the world's attention and changed history. As the documentaries spell out their actions literally saved millions of lives and made the world a better place. Neither were political activists but were able to bend international politics through a well-orchestrated campaign to secure support to write off debt, boost aid and remove trade barriers for poor countries. Bono earlier managed to persuade George W Bush to tackle AIDS in Africa. In an extraordinary achievement Bono persuaded a right-wing Republican to spend what became $120 billion on black people who didn't have a vote in America. That alone has saved more than 25 million lives. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad The G8 Summit was a tougher gig. Eight major concerts were arranged in the G8 countries. Edinburgh's concert was an additional event to signify the 'final push' during a week that included the massive Make Poverty History march. Make Poverty History banners went up across the city. One even adorned Edinburgh Castle thanks to Historic Environment Scotland. Bob Geldof and Bono spoke at the G8 Summit, where Russia was supportive of combined international humanitarian action in a way unthinkable today. Tony Blair, returning after the 7/7 terrorist attacks in London, literally had the German Chancellor up against a wall to get him to support the funding package. I didn't then realise just how deep the support was until I had taken a decision about what time the Live 8 concert would end. The Edinburgh line up had grown like topsy, and the finish time extended further as the concert approached. On the morning of the event, it was expected to finish around 11.30pm, but midway through I was approached by an ashen-faced Head of Property, Bill Ness, who said it was now 'finishing after 1am, and was it OK to continue?' There was no way I was going to stop the gig, and I simply said to press on and that I'd go out in the morning and apologise to Murrayfield residents we expected were bound to (and understandably) complain. To my amazement, there wasn't get a single complaint. Every resident knew what the cause was, and they supported it. I never felt more proud of the city or its residents, and my faith in human nature has never waned since that day. Over $30bn of aid was delivered. Countless millions of lives were saved. The world seems a darker place these days, but the anniversary of Live 8 and the achievements of Bob Geldof and Bono, and of the G8 governments involved should inspire us all. Our world can be an even better place if we choose to make it so. To this day I work in my office under a picture of Edinburgh Castle bearing the legend 'Make Poverty History'. It's still a cause that inspires. Donald Anderson is Director, Playfair Scotland
New Statesman
02-07-2025
- Politics
- New Statesman
How terror came home on 7/7
On the morning of 7 July 2005, I was travelling by train to London Liverpool Street when we were abruptly halted outside Tottenham Hale station. The train was oppressively full; commuters as well as tourists who had boarded earlier at Stansted Airport with cases and rucksacks were standing up in the crowded carriages. To widespread expressions of irritation, the driver announced over the intercom system that there had been some kind of power outage on the London Underground and we would not be moving for some time. The first iPhone was not released until 2007 and information inside the carriage was limited, but as time passed there was a general sense, among the passengers who had been receiving texts and phone calls, that something had gone seriously wrong. In the event, we were ordered on to the platform and told that the line to Liverpool Street had been suspended. Only much later did we understand what had happened: that four bombs had been detonated in coordinated mass-casualty Islamist suicide attacks. The day before, in Singapore, London had been announced as the host city for the 2012 Olympic Games, narrowly defeating Paris after extensive lobbying from prime minister Tony Blair and his wife Cherie, Princess Anne, Mayor Ken Livingstone, Sebastian Coe and (inevitably) David Beckham. Blair returned on an overnight flight to London and then went straight to Scotland for the G8 Summit, which was being held at the Gleneagles golf resort. This was the month of Live 8, when Bono and Bob Geldof were lobbying world leaders to ease the debt burden on Africa; at the Live 8 concert in Hyde Park, on 2 July, Pink Floyd had reunited with Roger Waters for one more time, one last time. Blair was in a meeting at Gleneagles when he was informed that what at first was believed to have been a power outage on the Underground network was in fact a series of bomb explosions on the Circle Line near Aldgate and at Edgware Road and on the Piccadilly Line near Russell Square; a fourth bomb, an hour after the Underground attacks, had ripped the roof off a number 30 double-decker bus in Tavistock Square. Blair immediately prepared to leave the summit, with the blessing of fellow world leaders, who included Vladimir Putin. 'What happened in London today is a huge crime,' the Russian despot announced. In London, Charles Clarke, the home secretary, chaired a hastily convened meeting of Cobra, the government's emergencies committee, attended by Andy Hayman, a Metropolitan Police counter-terrorism specialist, and Eliza Manningham-Buller, head of MI5. 'The most important message that we wanted to convey,' Clarke told Adam Wishart and James Nally for their account of the atrocities, Three Weeks in July, 'was that the forces of the state were in control.' But they were not in control. They had no idea what had happened on those Underground commuter trains, and the initial fear then was that the bombers were at large and that more attacks would follow. There had never been a suicide bomb attack in western Europe; IRA operatives starved themselves to death in the Maze prison but never blew themselves up while carrying out their atrocities. The Madrid bombings in 2004, which killed 193 people, were the result of improvised explosive devices left on four commuter trains bound for Atocha station; two of the Islamist militants behind that attack later blew themselves up during a police raid on the apartment where they were hiding out in Leganés. For Ian Blair, then commissioner of the Metropolitan Police, a 'door had been opened' into a new kind of terrorism. 'We've been involved with the IRA and Loyalists for a very long time, but never did they do anything the size of this. This was a step change. And once that door has been opened, we would be aware that it can never be shut again.' Fifty-two people died (excluding the assassins) in the coordinated 7 July bombings and nearly 800 were injured. Some of the survivors whose stories are told in Three Weeks in July had their limbs blown off or later amputated in hospital. Martine Wright, who lost both legs and 80 per cent of the blood in her body in the attack at Aldgate, and who was in a coma for ten days, has since bonded with six of her fellow amputees, creating what they call the '7/7 club'. 'The club you'd never, ever choose to belong to in a million years,' she says. 'But once you're a member, it's a club like no other. The understanding… all you've got to do is walk into a room and see that person's eyes, and you know what they've been through.' This is not a literary book in the sublimated journalistic style of Emmanuel Carrère's V13 – which followed the long trial, from September 2021 to June 2022, of some of the perpetrators of the murderous Paris terror attacks of 13 November 2015 – or a work of political analysis. But it is a humane, absorbing, meticulous recreation of the events of that July day and the febrile three weeks that followed. It has five chapters, or 'Acts', covering the four bomb attacks in all their harrowing detail, the subsequent investigation into the background of the bombers, the failed 'copycat' bombings (on three Tube trains and a bus) that took place in London on 21 July, and the hunt for the four would-be suicide bombers who fled after their self-made devices malfunctioned. One of them, Muktar Said Ibrahim, who failed his maths GSCE, had miscalculated the ratios of ingredients used to make the explosive devices. From such errors are lives saved – or lost. Subscribe to The New Statesman today from only £8.99 per month Subscribe One long sequence covers the appalling killing of Jean Charles de Menezes, the young Brazilian who had been tracked by undercover agents after he left his apartment block. He was pursued on to the Underground at Stockwell and then shot in the head by two police gunmen who mistakenly believed he was one of the perpetrators of the botched 21 July attacks. Adam Wishart, co-author, is a renowned documentary filmmaker (he was director of the BBC's 9/11: Inside the President's War Room) and the book can read like an extended or burnished script with short scenes, recorded dialogue, jump cuts and time shifts. We are taken into the wrecked train carriages as the survivors, surrounded by scattered body parts, twisted metal and debris, and the injured and the dying, struggle to comprehend what has happened. And then we cut to the building where the national police response is being coordinated. The authors capture well the unease that gripped the capital and the country in the days after the identity of the bombers was revealed. Three of them were British Muslims of Pakistani heritage from the Leeds area; they were born and educated in England. The fourth bomber, a 19-year-old convert to Islam, was born in Jamaica. He detonated the bomb deep underground on the Piccadilly Line that killed 26 people. The four men had driven from Beeston, a run-down suburb of Leeds, to Luton, and from there, carrying their bulky rucksacks, had taken a train to King's Cross. Their leader was Mohammed Sidique Khan, who was 30, married with a young daughter, and trained at a jihadi camp in Pakistan. The bombs had been made in a rented flat in Leeds, and the jihadis had worn gasmasks as they boiled huge quantities of hydrogen peroxide bought from local hardware stores. After the attacks, Charles Clarke had described them as 'clean skins', presumably because they were unknown to the security services; in fact, Sidique Khan had been bugged and trailed in 2004 but was not considered to be an imminent threat. Complacency and a lack of fastidiousness about the Islamist terror threat enabled him to operate unhindered and to move freely between England and Pakistan. Before the London attacks, he had recorded a video message, released by al-Qaeda after his death, in which he risibly claimed to be acting in 'obedience to the one true God, Allah'. In 2008, when I was editor of Granta magazine, I commissioned a long report by Richard Watson, a former BBC Newsnight journalist, into what we called the 'rise of the British jihad'. For many years, Watson had monitored the activities of extremist preachers in London, such as Abu Hamza, the hook-handed imam of Finsbury Park Mosque, and Omar Bakri Muhammad, a Syria-born Muslim Brotherhood operative who, in the usual naive British way, was given asylum in this country after being expelled from Saudi Arabia. Watson followed the work of Anjem Choudary, co-founder with Bakri Muhammad of al-Muhajiroun ('the emigrants'), which agitated for the institution of sharia law in Britain; it is striking how many subsequent terrorist attacks involved men with links to the group. Mohammed Sidique Khan was one of them, and yet it was not officially outlawed in Britain until 2010. Watson's work is not credited in Three Weeks in July but perhaps should have been: he was among the first journalists to understand that something deeply sinister was happening in Britain among the followers of the extremist Islamist preachers whom the security services tolerated as cranks even as they conspired and incited. [See also: The rise and fall of Britain's infamous preacher of hate] In his great novel about terrorism and paranoia Mao II, published a decade before the al-Qaeda attacks of 11 September 2001, Don DeLillo provocatively suggested that terrorists had become the primary mythmakers of our age. Bomb-makers and gunmen were creating narratives of disaster – 'midair explosions and crumbled buildings' – that have not only altered the 'inner life of the culture' but made the 'new future possible'. This, he wrote, 'is the new tragic narrative'. DeLillo is fond of hyperbole and satirical exaggeration, but he also understood something important about modern terrorism, and so did Ian Blair in the aftermath of the London suicide bombings. Today we live in the long shadow of the bombings and all that has followed since: massacres in Paris, Brussels, Stockholm and in the foyer of the Manchester Arena as people were leaving an Ariana Grande concert; the rise and fall of the Islamic State caliphate; the omnipresence of CCTV cameras and intensified state surveillance; the grim, time-devouring security routines we must endure at airports, and so on. 'We talk too much, and too complacently, about the mystery of evil,' Emmanuel Carrère writes in V13. 'Between being ready to die so as to kill or being ready to die so as to save: which is the biggest mystery?' There was nothing mysterious about the London attacks of 7 July 2005. A great evil was done to the people making their way to work in the carriages of the Tube trains that morning and on the bus in Tavistock Square because British men chose to die in the act of killing others. The bombers, who in their megalomania believed themselves to be Islamic martyrs, were blown to pieces – the shattered, headless torso of the bus-bomber landed outside BMA House in Tavistock Square – but their actions have had a long and terrible afterlife. A door had been opened. A new age of domestic terror had begun in Britain. The new future had been made possible. Three Weeks in July: 7/7, the Aftermath and the Deadly Manhunt Adam Wishart and James Nally Mudlark, 384pp, £25 Purchasing a book may earn the NS a commission from who support independent bookshops [See also: Jenny Saville's human landscapes] Related
Calgary Herald
18-06-2025
- Business
- Calgary Herald
'Sequestered:' Shop owners describe doing business in G7 security sanctum
Kevin Okabe recalls hobnobbing with world leaders while operating a souvenir shop in Kananaskis Village during 2002's G8 Summit. Article content Twenty-three years later, there was little of that, he said, as a much stricter security cordon descended on the venue that once again hosted those countries' VIPs for G7. Article content Article content 'They've really reined in the availability — it's completely different, it's very tight,' said Okabe who, with wife Naoko Maebashi, now operates the Moose Family Kitchen in the complex that hosted meetings and photo sessions under a tight lockdown. Article content Article content The couple weren't able to operate their business in a normal fashion but were allowed to maintain its retail side in case delegates required items such as over-the-counter medication said Okabe. Article content Article content 'We've kind of shut down, we were just here for essentials only,' he said, adding a few such sales were made. Article content When the media hordes were moving through the village, signifying the presence of G7 leaders, 'we were sequestered in the store space, we couldn't just wander around,' said Okabe. Article content In 2002, the couple, particularly Maebashi, were able to join the press corp. in snapping images of the assembled world leaders and even getting up-close photos of them as they milled around following official photo opportunities. Article content Article content At one point, then-U.S. president George W. Bush inquired if Maebashi had gotten a good photo of them. Article content This time, it was strictly the leaders' support staff who interacted with them, though when they showed photos of themselves with prime ministers and presidents in 2002, 'that certainly served as a conversation starter,' said Okabe. Article content But on the summit's last day, on Tuesday, Australian Prime Minister Anthony Albanese dropped into a neighbouring store for a visit. Article content Article content Like others who work and live in Kananaskis, the couple underwent security screening head of the G7 summit while journalists required multiple passes and travelled through a series of security checks that included dogs sniffing their gear before they were allowed access to Kananaskis Village.
