Thursday, July 16, 2026

Football ⚽️ Argentina 🇦🇷 2 England 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿 1

England suffered World Cup heartache  today with two late goals in seven minutes from Argentina giving them a 2-1 win and a place in Sunday’s final against Spain.

Final Final - Spain v Argentina Monday at 5am


Lautaro Martinez scored a 92nd-minute winner as defending champions Argentina emerged from the jaws of defeat to stun England 2-1 en route to the 2026 FIFA World Cup final.

England appeared to track to reach their first World Cup final in 60 years thanks to Anthony Gordon’s 55th-minute opener in Atlanta on Thursday (AEST).

Then, Lionel Messi’s Argentina turned the match on its head at the death – setting up a showdown with European champions Spain in the final on July 20 (AEST).

Argentina midfielder Enzo Fernandez equalised with a sensational long-range effort with five minutes of regulation remaining.

England could not stop Argentina, who completed the comeback in the second minute of stoppage time after Martinez headed home into the back of the net – leaving the Three Lions dejected.

Lionel Messi’s Argentina complete extraordinary comeback to reach back-to-back World Cup finals


… Antonio Rattin in 1966. Diego Maradona in 1986. David Beckham in 1998.

The matches are the stuff of soccer legend. And on Wednesday (Thursday AEST), Argentina and England return to the World Cup stage. But this time – for the first time – it will be a World Cup semi-final, a coveted place at stake in Sunday’s final against Spain, who beat France on Wednesday (AEST).

It will be a match resonant with both historical and soccer rivalry, going back decades.

The death this week of former Argentinian soccer player Rattin has revived memories of one of the earliest sporting disputes between the countries.

In 1966, the two met in a World Cup quarter-final match when England were hosting the tournament. Rattin, then his side’s captain, was expelled from the pitch. He grabbed at an English corner flag as he left, then sat on a red carpet intended for Queen Elizabeth, refusing to walk away. English fans threw cans of beer at him, he later said.


England and Argentina rekindle one of the World Cup's most heated rivalries when they meet in the semifinal in Atlanta, with Spain awaiting the winner.

Argentina fans are leaving little to chance ahead of the World Cup semifinal against England, placing captain Harry Kane's name in the freezer and faithfully repeating the rituals they believe bring the national team luck on the pitch.

The practices are part of Argentina's long tradition of 'cabalas' — superstitions fans believe can influence the team's fortunes.

As defending champions Argentina prepare to face England for a place in the final, supporters are clinging to routines they say helped deliver past victories.

Many refuse to say opponents' names, wear the same often-unwashed jerseys, sit in the same seats and eat the same meals before each match, convinced that changing anything could jinx the team's chances of lifting another trophy.

"My friends and I have a ritual," said 13-year-old Ines Mutri.

"We write the name of the star player and goalkeeper on the same piece of paper and freeze it in the freezer.

"This time we're going to freeze Kane because he's the top scorer."

In a country where football inspires a near-religious devotion, such rituals, fans say, offer a sense of control over a result that ultimately remains beyond their influence.

The tradition runs deep. Carlos Bilardo, the coach who led Argentina to the 1986 World Cup title, became famous for elaborate superstitions like dictating the order in which they stepped onto the pitch, helping cement 'cabalas' in Argentine soccer folklore.

Even current coach Lionel Scaloni has acknowledged his own ritual.

"I step onto the field with my right foot and make the sign of the cross," he said during the tournament.

Some customs evolve with the times. During this year's World Cup, fans have shared AI-generated images on social media showing rival players frozen in blocks of ice, a symbolic way of preventing dangerous opponents from moving, scoring or making saves.

The idea has spilled into real life. Student Juan Pablo Calvo, 18, said he plans to freeze Jude Bellingham's name because he considers him "a tremendous player," though he remains confident in Argentina.

"Even though Messi has already won every trophy there is to win, this is a special opportunity because he's never faced England in a match like this, let alone in a semifinal," Calvo said.

Other fans say repetition is the most important 'cabala'. Once Argentina win, every detail of the day must be recreated for the next match: the same people, the same seat, the same shirt and, if possible, the same meal.

Mutri is watching with eight friends who wear the same hats and sit in the same places every game.

"I feel that the match against England is going to be a nerve-racking one, like all the others," she said.

"But it's going to be good. It's going to be fun."

Argentina’s World Cup built on ‘suffering’ faces its biggest test yet



 Walk into an English pub anywhere in the world in the next 24 hours and you will not be able to get The Beatles’ classic  ‘Hey Jude’ out of your head.

England veteran Jordan Henderson predicted before the World Cup began that Jude Bellingham would be the Three Lions’ “X-factor”.

No one would have predicted that the 23-year-old would take the tournament by storm, however.

Bellingham has willed England over the line in the knockout stages.

Back-to-back braces against Mexico and Norway will go down in English football folklore.

The first came in less than two minutes to silence the notoriously loud Estadio Azteca and set up one of England’s finest ever victories on the world stage.

The second came via an equaliser on the stroke of half time and then the match winner in extra time to break Norwegian hearts.

Norway and Manchester City superstar Erling Haaland summed it up best when asked about his former Borussia Dortmund teammate’s stellar performance.

“Real Madrid and England are lucky to have Jude Bellingham,” the goal scoring machine said.

“Sometimes they criticize Jude Bellingham for not scoring enough goals, but he does not deserve that criticism,” Haaland added.

“He’s a midfielder, and yet he still scores, goes forward, dribbles. He’s world class.”


Wednesday, July 15, 2026

Sometimes lawyers are the good guys. . . the fight for Putin’s billions

 Suicidal empathy at Custom House with SB, TF. CB, RC and LH 


Sometimes lawyers are the good guys. . . the fight for Putin’s billions

Martin Sixsmith’s Suing the Kremlin chronicles the international legal drama that unfolded when the Russian state seized the oil company Yukos

Mikhail Khodorkovsky, former head of Yukos oil company, stands in a defendant's cage during his trial in Moscow.
Oligarch Mikhail Khodorkovsky was imprisoned on spurious fraud and tax charges
TATYANA MAKEYEVA/AFP/GETTY IMAGES

Corporate lawyers seldom cut a heroic figure, but if there is one undisputed hero in Martin Sixsmith’s Suing the Kremlin: The Battle for Putin’s Billions it is Vasily Alexanyan, the former general counsel of the defunct Russian oil and gas company Yukos.

After being arrested by Russian authorities on false charges, Alexanyan was pressured to perjure himself against other Yukos executives. He refused to do so, even when life-saving healthcare was withheld from him. “I will not commit perjury… I won’t lie. I will not incriminate innocent people,” he declared from pre-trial detention. Released under international pressure, he died aged 39 in 2011, the result of his squalid treatment and complications of the HIV/Aids he contracted from a blood transfusion he received after a car accident. He left behind a young son. On the shoulders of such anonymous men rest modern capitalism and the rule of law.

Book cover for "Suing the Kremlin: The Battle for Putin’s Billions" by Martin Sixsmith, showing a red-tinted image of Vladimir Putin's face.

The legal aftermath of the Yukos saga, familiar to readers of the newspaper business section of a certain age, is the main subject of Sixsmith’s book. In its summary form, Mikhail Khodorkovsky, Yukos’s chairman and one of the infamous Russian oligarchs of the 1990s, had dared to challenge Vladimir Putin, who was then in his first of five terms (so far) as president of Russia.

Putin retaliated by imprisoning Khodorkovsky on spurious fraud and tax charges — he was jailed between 2005 and 2013 — while forcing Yukos into bankruptcy through tax reassessments. Its assets were scooped up in a fake auction by the rival company Rosneft, which promptly floated on the London Stock Exchange and made a killing in the process. Whether Putin personally made money from the dismemberment of Yukos is not known for certain, although Sixsmith notes that his personal wealth is conservatively estimated to be at $200 billion.

As Yukos was being dismembered, its former executives and shareholders plotted revenge from abroad. They hired lawyers who devised a clever strategy to get their money back and humiliate the Putin regime. Under various international treaties, Russia promised to protect foreign investors by allowing them to take Russia to binding arbitration, and this is exactly what happened.


Using the Energy Charter Treaty, which Russia signed in the 1990s to open its energy sector to Western investors, Khodorkovsky associates and the Yukos staff pension fund took Russia to the Permanent Court of Arbitration in the Hague, which despite its name is neither permanent nor a court, but an arbitration registry. There, their lawyers argued that Russia had stolen their money by forcing Yukos into a fake bankruptcy and that they were owed the fair market value of the company.

There followed years of legal wrangling accompanied by Russian skulduggery against the plaintiffs and their lawyers. In 2014 the three arbitrators ruled in favour of the shareholders and awarded them $50 billion, half of what the shareholders wanted but 20 times the previous record for an arbitration award. This led to more litigation from Russia, which attempted to quash the verdict, and from the shareholders who tried to get their money back by seizing Russian government assets across the world, efforts that are continuing.

Not everyone on the corporate side emerges with credit. Sixsmith is particularly scathing about the auditing firm PwC, which under Kremlin pressure withdrew a decade’s worth of audit reports for Yukos, and about the law firms that were more than happy to represent the Russian Federation until its second invasion of Ukraine. Countries such as France and Belgium also behaved in a cowardly fashion by making it hard for Yukos shareholders to enforce the award.

There is a healthy appetite for Russia-related books, and Sixsmith writes with great clarity, perhaps helped by being a non-lawyer and therefore able to extract the human drama from the bloodless meeting rooms of the Hague. But the reader will appreciate that this account is not for everyone: there are limits to how much disputes about the Russian tax code or the enforcement of arbitration awards in third countries against assertions of diplomatic immunity will appeal to most people, no matter how gifted the storyteller.


If there is something missing, it is the perspective of the shareholders. Although Sixsmith interviewed Khodorkovsky and at least two of the five key shareholders, the book is really centred on the corporate lawyers and directors who fought out the battle in courtrooms and boardrooms, who were more than happy to talk. Perhaps the exiled oligarchs preferred to enjoy the money in peace. Not Khodorkovsky, of course, who has become from exile one of Putin’s thorns (having given up his shares, he did not benefit from the arbitration victory, apart from moral vindication).

At its heart, Suing the Kremlin is about the less visible parts of international law. For every Lord Hermer litigating on behalf of Iraqi detainees or rent-seeking island states trying to grab sovereign British territory, there are many more City solicitors and barristers who practise the sort of international law that seldom attracts any public notice.

If you have ever flown abroad or bought a package from a Chinese seller on eBay or invested in a company that does business in a foreign country, you probably have benefited from the intricate web of commercial, trade and investment treaties that make the modern world function. Not even Putin, whose desire to destroy Yukos had to be weighed against the need to boost investors’ confidence in Russia, could afford to ignore them.

Suing the Kremlin: The Battle for Putin’s Billions by Martin Sixsmith (Swift Press £25 pp304). To order a copy go to timesbookshop.co.uk. Free UK standard P&P on orders over £25. Special discount available for Times+ members

Actually, Democracy Dies in H.R.

 I love unique people. they see the best in others and believe one person can make a difference. They support their friends, lift up complete strangers, and live like it matters.

~ topher kearby


Light and Truth defeats Darkness and Lies via Cryptic Iron Curtis


New research sheds light on how mediocre employees help would-be authoritarians maintain power.


Even the most capable autocrats cannot rule alone.

In Russia, Vladimir V. Putin needs his circle of handpicked oligarchs; in Iran, the Revolutionary Guards and its allies in the business world protect the regime’s power; Viktor Orban transformed Hungary into an “elected autocracy” with the help of a few crucial judges, political enforcers and friendly tycoons. But to actually carry out the dirty work of consolidating and maintaining power, such leaders rely on help from a far greater number of lower- and midlevel people: military officers, secret police and bureaucrats.

Yet until recently, researchers paid little attention to how leaders convince and recruit ground-level workers to go along with their demands. The incentives for elites to stay loyal have been studied extensively, but the rank and file have remained something of a black box. In the absence of real data, researchers have tended to assume that they cooperate because of ideological extremism, fear of persecution or some combination of the two.

New research, drawing on an extraordinary data set from Argentina’s Dirty War in the 1970s and ’80s, suggests a very different explanation. It turns out that the kinds of career pressures familiar to employees everywhere — the desire to revive a stalled career or obtain a minor promotion — can be enough to incentivize lower- and midlevel officials to violate professional obligations, fundamental norms and even basic morality. The people who make those decisions, the research suggests, are neither extremists nor victims. They are often just middling workers looking for a way to get ahead.

“Making a Career in Dictatorship,” a new book by two German political scientists, Adam Scharpf and Christian Glassel, reads like what you might get if you crossed Hannah Arendt’s ideas about the “banality of evil” with a business school guide on how to get the most out of low performers.


Their in-depth study of Argentina’s military during that country’s era of coups and forced disappearances found that low performers — whom they refer to as “career-pressured” individuals — filled the ranks of the secret police. That service allowed them to “detour” around the ordinary military hierarchy, the book shows, achieving promotions and career success they could never have managed otherwise.

It turns out that would-be authoritarians don’t need to staff their regimes with ideological true believers, offer extreme enticements or impose draconian punishments in order to make successful power grabs. They just need to figure out how to target their ideal labor pool: the frustrated and mediocre.

Their conclusions have implications for countries around the world grappling with the stability of their democracies — including the United States.

A Data Set of Mediocrity
When he was a young Ph.D. student, Mr. Scharpf was conducting dissertation research in Buenos Aires when a government official dropped a fateful offhand comment during a conversation in a cafe. During the military dictatorship, the official said, the intelligence officers who did the regime’s worst dirty work were “essentially idiots.”

At first, Mr. Scharpf thought the man was just being insulting. He soon realized that the official meant the comment literally — that the military junta’s secret police had been, in his view, incompetent losers. When he returned to his university in Germany, he mentioned the discussion to his colleague, Mr. Glassel. Both men saw a glimmer of social-science possibility. They decided to learn more. Argentina, it turned out, had published information on all of its military officers’ graduation ranks, promotions and retirements going back to the late 1800s, which meant that it was possible to identify and track the low performers. And because secret police work during the Dirty War was conducted primarily by army intelligence Battalion 601, the researchers could trace exactly which officers joined the unit, how long they stayed and what happened to their careers.

People holding a banner, as mounted police on horses stand nearby. Mothers and relatives of those “disappeared” by state security services protesting during the Dirty War. Credit...Horacio Villalobos/Corbis, via Getty Images

The data showed that the official’s offhand comment had been right. For the most part, the Argentine military operated under a meritocratic “up or out” system. Officers who underperformed early would fall behind their peers, and eventually be forced into retirement. But Battalion 601 offered a detour around that meritocracy: Low performers could transfer into the secret police, spend a few years earning promotions there and then return to the regular army, often leapfrogging over peers who had stayed with the regular forces. Men who took the detour ended up with longer careers, higher salaries and better pensions than similar individuals who stayed in the mainstream military units.

The worse an officer’s academic record had been at the military academy, the more likely he was to join Battalion 601. And once inside, the lowest performers were assigned to the most brutal units, carrying out the day-to-day tasks of torture and murder, work that was so morally repugnant that it carried a serious risk of both social stigma and psychological trauma. But that meant that the career rewards for doing it were the most valuable. A stint as a monster could rehabilitate the most disastrous underperformer.

How Regimes Rely on ‘Loyal Losers’ 

Ordinarily, of course, it is very difficult to get complete information on who a regime’s “dirty workers” are or what motivated them to take those jobs. So there aren’t really comprehensive data sets to compare with Mr. Glassel and Mr. Scharpf’s research on Argentina.

However, available information suggests that other countries may have followed a similar pattern. For example, Mr. Glassel and Mr. Scharpf found that superiors in the Nazi bureaucracy skillfully exploited career pressures to recruit commanders for the Einsatzgruppen, the mobile killing squads that carried out the “Holocaust by bullets” in Eastern Europe. Many of the recruits had backgrounds that placed them at a disadvantage, such as records blemished by disciplinary proceedings, unclear “racial purity” or lack of military and policing experience. Zealous service in the killing squads helped them improve their careers.

In the Soviet Union, the NKVD, the secret police who killed hundreds of thousands of people during the so-called Great Terror of 1937, “deliberately recruited individuals with poor formal skills and knowledge,” Mr. Glassel and Mr. Scharpf write, often with no more than a primary school education. Senior commanders nurtured their subordinates’ fear of failure by instigating competition between different offices to see who could arrest more people.

An individual in a long coat standing beside a field covered in many bodies near a line of trees.
The 1943 exhumation of a mass grave in the Katyn forest where Stalin’s NKVD dumped some 22,000 Polish prisoners it had killed.Credit...Universal History Archive, via Getty


In the modern era, autocratic leaders often win power via elections, and then dismantle checks and balances to concentrate power in their own hands. That process tends to be far less violent than the acts carried out by the Argentine military junta or Stalin’s NKVD, but over time it sharply curtails political competition and freedom of expression.

Although each country has its own idiosyncrasies, that process tends to follow a pattern, said Erica Frantz, a political scientist at Michigan State University who studies democratic backsliding. Initially, elected would-be autocrats often appoint “loyal losers” to important positions to rubber-stamp their power grabs, Ms. Frantz said. “The leader knows that people are going to be more likely to be loyal if they don’t have many other career options, so when I say losers, I kind of mean it literally,” she said.

Take Hungary under Mr. Orban. He was first elected in 2010. By 2022, the European Parliament passed a resolution stating that Hungary had ceased to be a democracy and had become an “electoral autocracy.”

To make that happen he relied on a few handpicked loyalists at the top, plus a small percentage of ambitious strivers at the midlevel who saw politics as the route to success, experts say. “There were certain offices that did the dirty work,” said Kim Lane Scheppele, a Princeton University professor who has studied Hungary’s democratic breakdown. She pointed to the National Judicial Office, which selected judges and controlled their promotions, as particularly crucial. It was led by an Orban loyalist. 

Viktor Orban speaks at a lectern with his arms outstretched.
Prime Minister Viktor Orban during a final campaign rally in April. He lost elections despite having embedded his loyalists in the judiciary, the news media and elsewhere.Credit...Janos Kummer/Getty 


At the lower levels of the court system, a small percentage of ambitious individuals carried out the government’s agenda. “Five or 10 percent of the judges, the careerists, just do the ‘dirty job’ to get along with their career,” said Attila Vincze, a judicial studies researcher at Masaryk University in the Czech Republic who has studied how Mr. Orban co-opted courts.

Venezuela began a similar trajectory after Hugo Chávez was elected in 1999, but ultimately he and his successor, Nicolás Maduro, used more violent means to preserve their power. To crush protests and other public opposition, the government relied on the National Guard, a branch of the military tasked with preserving internal security, and armed gangs of civilians known as “colectivos.”

The National Guard is considered “the lowest rung of the armed forces” in terms of prestige, said Alejandro Velasco, a Latin America historian at New York University. “If you couldn’t get a job and you couldn’t get in the army, you would join the National Guard.” The colectivos grew out of informal neighborhood watch groups, but as their ties to the government grew, many members were given jobs in the security details of government ministries.

Eventually, such leaders become too unpopular for mere manipulation to keep them in power, and they lose elections. Which leaves them with a choice: leave office, as Mr. Orban did this month after losing an April election, or turn to more violent repression to hang on to power. Leaders who take the latter path, as Mr. Maduro did in Venezuela in 2024 after his efforts to tilt the presidential election in his favor failed, need to have loyal units of the security forces available to do the dirty work of a violent crackdown. Mr. Maduro relied heavily on the National Guard and the colectivos. According to Human Rights Watch, government forces killed dozens of opposition supporters and detained thousands more after the stolen election.

The American Case For Americans, this is not just an academic question. Many experts worry that democratic decay appears to be progressing especially quickly during President Trump’s second term.

Ms. Frantz sees parallels between Mr. Trump’s presidency and some of the elected authoritarian leaders she has studied elsewhere. Although Mr. Trump did not create the Republican Party, he has reshaped it over the last decade into an institution centered around himself. And a number of his cabinet members and political appointees, particularly in his second term, appear to fit the paradigm of loyalists whose résumés would be unlikely to land them roles in any other administration.


Marco Rubio, Donald Trump and Pete Hegseth sit behind a wooden table with American and military flags behind them. President Trump with Secretary of State Marco Rubio and Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth.Credit...Doug Mills/The New York Times

So the Trump administration’s apparent attempts to secure political control over the armed services, as well as the F.B.I. and ICE, stand out as worrying even when compared with other cases, Ms. Frantz said. Elected leaders “tinkering with” the security services “tends to be something that we see once a system has already transitioned to authoritarianism,” she said, rather than when democracy is in decline.
Mr. Glassel and Mr. Scharpf are concerned that President Trump’s planned expansion of ICE, in particular, could make it an ideal venue for “detouring” by ambitious underperformers who could be deployed for anti-democratic purposes. The worry is especially profound given the storming of the Capitol at the end of Mr. Trump’s first term, albeit by a less organized band of loyalists.

The playbook for a leader to create a loyal security service, they said, is to set up or repurpose an institution that can become a “second ladder” for career promotions, resource it generously and ensure that the barriers to getting hired there are low, signaling that it offers career opportunities to those who cannot find them elsewhere. (Cutting other government jobs or squeezing budgets can create a larger pool of potential recruits.) The leadership then signals impunity for people on that second ladder, to assure them that they won’t face consequences for wrongdoing. 

Armed individuals in tactical gear and gas masks walk through a dark, smoky street illuminated by flashlights. U.S. federal agents, including ICE, during an operation in Minneapolis, in January. Credit...David Guttenfelder/The New York Times

The administration seems to tick those boxes, even if Mr. Trump’s intentions are obscure. (The president has spoken openly of a third term in violation of the Constitution and disparaged the need for an election.) ICE remains an anti-immigration force, but it is set to be radically expanded, with a budget that would dwarf other federal law-enforcement agencies if the current funding bill passes. The Trump administration has drastically cut employment in other federal agencies, leaving thousands of people unemployed or fearful that they soon might be. And top officials in the administration, including Vice President JD Vance and Stephen Miller, Mr. Trump’s deputy chief of staff, explicitly assured ICE officers of “immunity” after immigration officers killed a protester in Minneapolis in January.

At the same time, it has become easier than ever to become an ICE agent. Ryan Schwank, a former training academy instructor, testified to Congress in February that new cadets “are graduating from the academy despite widespread concerns among training staff that even in the final days of training, the cadets cannot demonstrate a solid grasp of the tactics or the law required to perform their jobs.” ICE recruits must now complete only nine practical examinations to graduate from the training academy, compared with 25 exams that were listed in a training syllabus dated July 2021. It’s a good career opportunity for someone looking to get ahead.

Amanda Taub writes the Interpreter, an explanatory column and newsletter about world events. She is based in London.