World

The summit between Presidents Donald Trump and Vladimir Putin ended predictably, without a ceasefire deal or, it seems, assent on much else. Trump said “Many points were agreed to, and there are just a very few that are left,” but failed to offer any details. Even if true, the leftovers are critical, and the gulf between the two governments on the war remains huge. Critically, Putin cares more about security than image or economics, and understandably believes that he would lose leverage by agreeing to halt military operations before winning the concessions he demands from Ukraine. Nevertheless, the summit improved, however slightly, the prospects for negotiating an end to the war.

Ahead of the Trump-Putin summit in Alaska to discuss Ukraine, President Trump said there would be “some land swapping.” He waxed lyrical about “prime real estate.” The summit’s location is a good example of land swaps and prime real estate and is in a region of growing geopolitical importance.   In 1867 Russia "swapped" Alaska for $7.2 million in a deal mocked as Seward’s Folly after Secretary of State William H. Seward who negotiated the exchange. It turned out to be a snip. Commercially viable oil was discovered three decades later and has brought in more than $180 billion in revenue since Alaska became a state in 1959.

"Alaska," said the mountaineer Jon Krakauer, "is a place that constantly reminds you of just how small you are in the grand scheme of things." I doubt somehow that Vladimir Putin and Donald Trump will echo that sentiment when they meet tomorrow in the Last Frontier to carve up the future between themselves – Plumb-Pudding-in-Danger-style. The two leaders will have each traveled some eight hours over their own mighty lands to see each other. It will be a case of today, Ukraine; tomorrow, ze world.  Yesterday, the Trump administration went to great lengths to assure nervous European leaders and Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky that Trump would not, in their absence, simply roll over for Putin.

Mount Ararat rises over Armenia’s capital, Yerevan, its peak often lost in clouds. It is the country’s national symbol, yet it stands across the border in Turkey. That border has been closed since the early 1990s, when Turkey sided with Azerbaijan against Armenia – cutting Armenia off from its largest western neighbor and leaving it dependent on narrow trade corridors through Georgia and Iran. For three decades, the conflict shaped the politics of the South Caucasus, drawing in Russia, Turkey and Iran. The peace agreement between Armenia and Azerbaijan, signed today in Washington, represents more than the end of a long-standing territorial dispute.

Already the Kremlin is setting the terms of the forthcoming summit between Donald Trump and Vladimir Putin. Steve Witkoff, Trump's emissary, set the meeting in motion with his mission to Moscow on Wednesday, which Trump called “highly productive.” But productive of what? Putin’s foreign-policy adviser Yuri Ushakov stated today that it was the White House, not the Kremlin, that wanted the meeting. He went on to dismiss Trump's proposal that Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky could take part in a tripartite negotiation, noting that “for this to happen, certain conditions must be created. Unfortunately, such conditions are far away yet.” Those conditions remain the complete surrender of Ukraine.  The Kremlin, in other words, has a strategic plan.

El Salvador’s young and telegenic president, Nayib Bukele, has rewritten the rules. Term limits? Scrapped. Presidential terms? Extended. Runoff elections? Abolished. If all goes according to the script – penned and passed by his party in the legislature – Bukele will remain in power well into the 2030s, if not beyond. A decade ago, such a move might have sparked bipartisan alarm in Washington. Today, reactions are mixed – with many in the growing MAGA wing cheering El Salvador’s constitutional shake-up as a win of their own. This shift is a window into a deeper realignment in conservative foreign policy: one that moves closer to the unapologetic defense of national interest and drifts further from the spread-democracy-everywhere consensus.

The British Empire may be gone, but there is one area where the UK has not lost its global ambitions: online censorship. The latest vehicle is the Online Safety Act (OSA), a behemoth internet regulation law whose vast provisions are steadily coming into force – and increasingly drawing the ire of the Trump administration as it starts to impact US tech firms.  Under the OSA, “Britain has the power to shut down any platform” that breaks its content regulation rules, boasts secretary of state for technology Peter Kyle. The latest stage of its implementation began last week with new mandatory age-verification measures for social media platforms.  The Act is already curtailing what can be read online in the UK.