It seems as though Emily Brontë’s 1847 novel Wuthering Heights has been reimagined as many times as it has been misunderstood. The official trailer for Emerald Fennell’s adaptation claimed that the film was “inspired by the greatest love story of all time”. Released just in time for Valentine’s Day, it promises an extravagant, erotically charged take on the classic.
The novel’s reputation as a tempestuous romance sits uneasily alongside a book that is, at heart, a Gothic tale of desire, class, race and intergenerational trauma. Fennell’s highly anticipated film has already drawn controversy from critics and audiences, not just for its focus on romance but particularly for casting a white actor, Jacob Elordi, to play a character described in the original text as a “dark-skinned gypsy in aspect”.
Any adaptation will inevitably reveal much about the moment in which it is made, and while we are seeing a return to more conservative values in global politics, Fennell’s hedonistic version of this 19th-century work is a somewhat controversial rebellion against those values.
To unpack the Saltburn director’s take on Wuthering Heights, as well as the role of decadence in the novel and why it is so misunderstood, Georgina Godwin was joined on Monocle on Saturday by Dr Jessica Gossling and Dr Alice Condé of the Decadence Research Centre at Goldsmiths, University of London.
This interview has been edited for clarity and length.
What is decadence?
Alice Condé (AC): The way we conceptualise it at Goldsmiths is as a literary, artistic tradition that emerged out of the 19th century; a rebellious countercurrent that’s running alongside a lot of progress and technology. It is a morose response to modernity. It emerges at times of social and political crisis as well, and responds to those. We’re living in a decadent age now. So we’re trying to unyoke it from the 19th century and consider ways in which our culture is decadent, along with artistic responses to that.
How true is the film to the book? And does it matter?
Jessica Gossling (JG): Adaptations are really interesting because of what they tell us about their cultural moment, and so what Fennell has decided to leave out or keep in is quite fascinating. If you’re going to watch this film because you love the novel, you’ll be disappointed. But if you want to watch it because you love the vibes and the essence of what we think of as Victorian – this kind of oversexed, bodice-ripping lusciousness – then I think it’s a great film.
AC: I agree. It’s not a faithful adaptation, and I don’t think Fennell has claimed it is such. But she says that she was trying to adapt the novel to correspond with her first reading of it at age 14. It’s a complex, nuanced novel, which actually at its heart is not a romance. It’s incredibly harrowing to read. Every page you turn, something more horrible happens to the characters. But what Fennell has done is take forward the enduring romantic appeal of Heathcliff and Cathy’s doomed relationship, and that is something that many younger people might respond to on first reading.
Do you think the novel is capable of doing psychological damage to little girls or teenagers who found Heathcliff incredibly sexy and the story just compelling?
AC: That trope has persisted. Personally, that wasn’t what I took from it at all. What endured with me was the ghost scene at the very beginning of the novel, where what we see is Heathcliff’s outpouring of emotion. For a century very much known for its [particular] kind of emotional restraint, it’s incredibly groundbreaking and quite sensitively done on Brontë’s part.
What about the controversial race-blind casting?
JG: It’s so different to the novel that the casting decision is the easiest thing to latch on to in terms of what’s problematic about this adaptation. But also, Fennell strips out the sibling rivalry, incest and animal abuse, so there are lots of other important topics that are also removed. The only thing that remains [of the novel] in the film are some Sparknotes quotes and everything else is very much about how we feel Wuthering Heights should be. For example, there are references to Kate Bush in there. Fennell’s Heathcliff is completely chastised; he’s not the wolfish creature that Brontë describes at all.
Gothic novels often feature gloomy manor settings, eerie, sometimes supernatural elements and characters haunted by a dark past. Was it sexy? Did we get a lot of Yorkshire scenery?
JG: The movie has predominantly been filmed on a set, so it is like an old Hollywood movie in that way. They could control the weather, the lighting, everything, so it doesn’t have that wild naturalness that I would associate with Gothic fiction. It’s very staged. It reminded us of Beetlejuice in a way, with these very strange, anachronistic houses against an almost plastic background.
I’ve been running through preceding periods of decadence in my mind. The roaring 1920s, Weimar Germany. We know what came out of these periods, and, if we’re in another period of decadence now, do you see history repeating itself? What triggers the arrival and departure of such periods?
AC: Yes, absolutely. Those examples that you mentioned are transitional moments on the threshold of decline. The 19th century decadent period is quite interesting because there were these fears of decline and cultural degeneration. That’s why there were such attacks on writers such as Oscar Wilde for his perceived degeneracy, his queerness, his effeminacy. When we tipped into the 20th century, we did end up in these moments of collapse but not quite in the way that the critics of decadence in the 19th century imagined.
To hear the full interview, tune in to ‘Monocle on Saturday’.
Judging by the success of The Ned, Nomad, The Line and Freehand, Andrew Zobler appears to have mastered the art of transforming hotels into community anchors. The founder and CEO of New York-based Sydell Group has found a way to weave the worlds of art, design and food into compelling destinations for travellers and locals alike. Known for his attention to detail – from crafting rooms with residential qualities to creating buzzy playlists – Zobler has been the driving force behind a number of neighbourhood revivals, most notably in the area north of New York’s Madison Square Park.
But even with his string of accomplishments, the entrepreneur shows no signs of slowing down. In 2024, Hilton acquired a majority controlling interest in the Sydell Group, setting into motion an international expansion plan for Nomad. Sydell will continue to manage Nomad’s design, branding and management while Hilton oversees development.
This “joint venture”, according to Zobler, has enabled him to deliver the Nomad spirit to various hubs around the world, all rooted in the belief that a hotel should feel like a great home. Despite ambitious plans for global growth (Hilton’s long-term goal is 100 Nomad properties), Zobler is confident that the brand will be able to preserve its character while integrating into the individual locales in fresh ways.
Nomad will break into the Asia-Pacific region with a Singapore outpost in autumn 2026. Zobler sat down with Monocle in the sunny island nation to talk about his involvement in the brand and how a boutique hotel can scale up without losing its soul. The following conversation has been edited for clarity and length.
How did the partnership with Hilton come about?
I met Chris Nassetta, the CEO of Hilton, many years ago. He was always interested in us and we were interested in him. He wanted to get into the luxury lifestyle space and he knew that we were good at it. But most importantly, he recognised that entering a joint venture and keeping the founder and creatives behind it was just as important as buying a brand. If you look at our competitors, the principals are not necessarily involved anymore and that differentiates us in a material way. They tend to duplicate a model rather than do the extra work in creating something that is idiosyncratic and location specific. We now have the benefits of Hilton’s balance sheet, its global distribution and its relationship with [property] owners around the globe but I’m still running the company the same way as I have for the past 15 years.
What makes the Nomad brand special?
The way that we think about the brand is more intellectual than it appears. There are certain principles that are important to us and those can be manifested in different ways. For example, we want the hotel to feel residential, not commercial. We want it to be a melange of cultures, like Paris meets New York meets Singapore. The food experience is also central to the heart of the brand and we create an environment that is welcoming to the community. You won’t just see travellers – you’ll see locals too – and that’s one of the reasons why we’re successful.
A lot of luxury operators want to be more lifestyle but wonder why they can’t achieve it. The reasons are straightforward: their restaurants are very expensive and all their rooms are large [with] five-fixture baths, so they are also very expensive. Your typical 30-year-old cannot afford to stay there. At Nomad, we have a certain percentage of rooms that are large and luxurious but we also have entry-level rooms because this [chemistry] between the young and the old is important to us.
How do you keep the charm of a boutique hotel while thinking about scale?
Our company is run in a very familial way and a lot of our people have been involved from the beginning. What we do is borrow the best things from Hilton but keep the service, culture and design close [to what we had]. When we open Nomad Singapore, we’re going to send employees from London to transfer the culture. I’ll be here to immerse people in our history and [share] what we’re trying to achieve, and then [we want] them to be themselves. We don’t believe in scripting people.
One of Nomad’s hallmarks is the high number of repeat guests – it’s all about creating relationships with them. We Google everyone who comes into the restaurant, so that we know a little about who they are. For regulars, we always figure out a way to get them a table. Another thing that’s important in creating a restaurant for the community is humility. To be sustainable in the long run, we’ve got to treat everyone with a great deal of respect, make them feel comfortable and not act like we’re the coolest kids on the block.
How did you decide on Singapore?
It’s one of the gateway cities of Asia and we want to be in all of [the cities]. Hilton’s Asia headquarters is also here, which means that it is an easy place for us to start and receive support. We also liked the location on Orchard Road, the architecture and [Singapore-based property and hospitality company] UOL Group, so it all worked out.
What can we expect from the Singapore outpost?
Many of the lifestyle hotels here were not custom-crafted for Singapore. We’re going to deliver a hotel that will speak to Singaporeans. The public spaces have double-height ceilings and what we like to call “aspirational aspects”. The restaurants will have that strong New York-meets-Singapore duality. What’s particularly Singaporean is the design of the building, such as the open-air lobby and hallways, which have a real connection to nature. The biggest challenge was to take a brand that has been set in great, old buildings and make it work in a new build. And we’ve done that successfully through the art programme, which will bridge the classic Nomad look with the contemporary architecture.
What would you say to travellers who are sceptical now that Nomad is under a big brand?
I would ask them to come and judge for themselves. The Hilton relationship is taking us towards a global direction and it has introduced us to extremely interesting people in places that we otherwise wouldn’t have had access to. The relationship is entirely accretive: Hilton has been very smart about letting us do our own thing without diluting the brand.
“You will not, under any circumstances put this in your column,” said the other half as we exited the tube station at South Kensington, him still looking shocked, me barely able to contain my delight at what had just occurred.
We had been standing in the carriage of a Piccadilly Line train, en route to my friend Dave’s sixtieth birthday party, when a young woman sat in a “priority seat” for seniors and the like stood up and said to my partner, “please have my place”. I watched as he declined with a flapping of hands and then spun around to face me, going into a panic-induced conversational mode in an effort to avoid eye contact with the would-be seat-donator. He began telling me, almost verbatim, about an article that he’d recently read in The New Yorker but I couldn’t focus as I was shaking with trapped laughter. Because while he’s a bit of a grey fox, he wears his age well, which made this all the more marvellous.
Getting older is an honour – too many people lost along the way for you to think fretting about a creased face is acceptable – but still, when we are forced to confront how other people view our wrinkles, well, it can sting. We all, me especially, like to delude ourselves that nothing much has changed over the years but that clock is kicking. Here’s how I know this to be true.
1.
My Instagram feed is full of ads recommending testosterone-boosting injections to ramp up your energy (and another thing).
2.
You have items in your wardrobe that are older than some of your colleagues. And you still wear them.
3.
You make cultural references that leave those same colleagues either staring at you blankly, or surreptitiously typing into Google to find out who the hell you’re talking about.
4.
You still think people use Google.
5.
You have a Facebook account, unused, but still there.
6.
On epic journeys you like to have a “real” map.
7.
When you go to the flower market, just as it’s opening on a Sunday morning, you pass the location of a long-gone nightclub where, on occasion and in your twenties, you might have been known to have exited at this very same time.
8.
Younger colleagues ask you questions that imply you were born in Victorian times. “Did they have cars when you were young? Or did you go everywhere by horse?”
9.
You have friends who you have known for decades. People who have never failed you. Friendships that have endured even when you have worked together for 19 years.
10.
You get up at 06.00. With no effort.
11.
You need IT support. Constantly.
12.
You need arch support, also constantly.
13.
Your bathroom cabinet has creams that promise more miracles than Jesus.
14.
You think millennials are young people.
15.
As fashion edicts change about sock heights and the cut of jeans, you stay your course. It will come back around you think (correctly).
16.
You’d rather not drive at night.
17.
You click through on one of those testosterone ads to see what it entails. Shrunken testicles? Perhaps better to go for the Saturday afternoon nap alternative.
18.
You keep quiet about your age (partly because it takes a moment to recall the exact number).
19.
You’re dismayed when someone offers you their seat on the subway.
20.
You know stuff. Life stuff.
After the party we made the return journey by London Underground and stood up just as the train was entering Russell Square station. For some reason, the driver had to slam on the brakes, the train jolted and the other half fell backwards, landing on the lap of a young muscular man the size of a baby bison. But rather than complain at having a gentleman of a certain age perched on his knee like a mature lap dancer, he simply said, “are you OK sir?”. “I have been totally humiliated tonight,” muttered the other half as we finally exited the station. I proffered my arm for added stability. “And I am serious about the column,” he reiterated. Really, I don’t see how I could have had a more fun night out.
To read more columns by Andrew Tuck, click here.
By the time the torch is extinguished at this year’s Olympic Winter Games, more than 6,500 hours of video will have been recorded. That’s nearly nine months of footage. Only about 1,000 hours of that coverage will air but it will be broadcast around the world on TV, streaming and social-media platforms. For the Olympic Broadcasting Services (OBS), producing the world’s biggest sporting and cultural event is no small task but it’s one that it was set up to do.
Established by the International Olympic Committee, the OBS is the host broadcaster for all Olympic, Paralympic and Youth Olympic Games. This means that it is responsible for setting up temporary media centres for the event, producing images and audio of the Games and personalising broadcasts for media partners, all while innovating with video-capture techniques, including stroboscopic effects that make fast-moving action appear frozen.
As the CEO of the broadcaster since 2012, Yiannis Exarchos has overseen 14 Olympics. While the job is tough, “you get inspired by having to cover the greatest athletes in the world”, he said. Exarchos joined Monocle in Milan to talk about how OBS has evolved its production to ensure that both casual and experienced fans can follow the Games, no matter where or how they watch.
This interview has been edited for clarity and length.
The OBS is responsible for all of the pictures, video and sound that come out of the Games. You’re distributing content to rights holders all over the world. It sounds like a difficult task with a lot of people involved.
[It is a challenging job] but you get inspired by having to cover the greatest athletes in the world and there is no incentive like that. We do what’s called host broadcasting, which essentially means two things: to do comprehensive coverage of all competition and ceremonies for the Olympic Games and provide these images to all media-rights holders around the world. The second important task is to help all these media-rights holders – there are more than 100 – to customise this coverage for the sake of their own audiences. We help them put in their own commentators and do their own interviews with athletes.
The scope of it, as you said, is quite large. Here we will produce about 6,500 hours of broadcast, even though the total duration of competition is around 1,000 hours. The reason why we shoot so much is because in today’s world, you have to provide all different types of content. It’s not just traditional television: it’s social, it’s digital and it’s streaming, and we produce for all these different formats. It’s very important that we do so because the Olympics remains one of the large, great audience aggregators. It’s a meeting place for all audiences. We do not have the luxury to say that we want to focus more on Generation Z or a specific country. We need them all. This is what makes the Olympics special. It’s a unifying force.
And no pressure with several billion people watching around the world, right?
We hope that [this year] it’s going to be about three billion. But just to give you an idea, in Paris 18 months ago we had five billion people following the Olympics. What does it mean that 89 per cent of the human population – people from the age of five with access to television or an internet connection – followed the Games? On traditional television, people watched nine hours of coverage on average during the two weeks [of the Summer Games]. People with access to social media checked their accounts for Olympic content 100 times on average during these two weeks. It was a massive following.
You’ve been CEO since 2012 but you’ve been doing this much longer. How have the viewing audience and demands for content changed over the years?
In a sense, it has become harder because there is not a single way of producing that is sufficient for all audiences. Today we have different demographics that consume in different ways: you wake up in the morning and check your mobile phone. Then you go to your office and pretend to be working while on your laptop, where you also watch a little bit of the Games. Then you go back home and watch on a bigger screen with friends. The viewing habits have become more diverse. This puts more pressure on us but it also provides us with more opportunities to make the Olympics a more intense and immersive experience for people throughout their lives.
It’s important to note that more than half of the audience is not sports fans. It’s what we call ‘casual fans’ or people who tune in every two or four years. I feel that this is an important contribution of sports to the world [at large]. I hope that many people will agree with me: we live at a time when unifying forces are few and the Olympics is an event that brings people together. If sport has this capacity, we need to do whatever it takes to enforce this message.
There has been an increase in drones footage, as well as split angles and stroboscopic effects that render replays in seconds. It has been amazing to watch. How do you balance all this technology with making sure that the event still feels human?
This question guides everything that we do. We are people who look into innovation to see what we can find from technology. We have many brilliant engineers in our company but we need to constantly remind ourselves that this is not about technology. The Olympics is about telling the stories of the greatest athletes in the world. So we look at three filters [when judging whether to use new technology]. Whether it allows us to do something that was not possible before, whether it allows us to produce more compelling content and whether it allows us to do our job more efficiently. We focus on the ones that we believe will bring something special to the coverage.
As I said before, half of the audience is not sports fans. And those who are sports fans usually follow two to three. But at the Olympics, you have dozens of different events. That means that for the vast majority of people, it’s going to be the first time in their lives that they will be exposed to a sport. So they need to understand it very fast and get familiar with the major personalities and the heroes of the sport.
We have been experimenting with drones since 2014 but it’s only now that some have reached a point where we can use them to show people what it feels like to be skiing downhill or driving the bobsleigh. These first-person-view drones, as we call them, allow that with very high quality cameras and with an extreme level of safety and security. Using this technology allows viewers to see the immense technique and beauty that goes into Olympic sports.
More coverage of the Games:
– Ski mountaineering is the Winter Olympics’ newest sport. It is also its noblest
– Skating’s solo act: Donovan Carrillo is the only Latino on the ice at the 2026 Winter Olympics
– Three unlikely Winter Olympians to watch at Milano Cortina 2026
From the opening notes of “Ó Abre Alas” or “O Canto da Cidade”, Brazilians know that it’s time to celebrate: Carnival is here. From samba school parades to blocos (roving street parties), music plays a major part in Brazil’s annual festival, which begins today and stretches until Lent on 18 February. From Rio de Janeiro and São Paulo to Salvador and many cities further afield, revelers will don elaborate costumes to dance, sing and party.
Originally brought to the country by the Portuguese in the 17th century, Carnival has since become distinctly Brazilian with the rise of Samba, a music genre created by Afro-Brazilian communities in the early 1900s. Samba isn’t the only music that will be blasted from speakers – frevo, funk and even electronica will generate sound waves across the next five days. Over the past few years, celebrations have become even more eclectic, with this year’s roster of events including a Bollywood party and a set by DJ Calvin Harris.
Regardless of the music, Carnival festival is the beating heart of Brazilian culture, not to mention that it is also a large source of stimulation to the country’s economy and tourism industry. More than 50 million people are estimated to have taken part in celebrations across the country in 2025 and this year’s event is expected to generate 12bn Brazilian reais (approximately €1.94bn) for the national economy. The music industry capitalises on the festive season to release new tracks made for dancing in the heat. New songs this year include one from disco diva Gretchen and another about being sexy on a jet ski – here are five notable songs we think are worth remembering. Turn your speakers up.
‘Carnaval’, Marina Sena feat. Psirico
The 29-year-old singer’s new EP is a pure celebration of summer and Carnival, and this funky, sultry track is certainly a highlight.
‘Marquinha De Fitinha’, Léo Santana
Carnival in Bahia wouldn’t be the same without Léo Santana, who just celebrated two decades in the spotlight.
‘Freak Le Boom Boom’, Gretchen
Gretchen is known for her disco tracks from the 1970s and 1980s, constant presence on Brazilian TV and starring in Katy Perry’s “Swish Swish” lyric video. As younger generations have discovered her music, some of her classic songs have been repackaged, including this gem.
‘Bembé’, Beija-Flor de Nilópolis
Every year, samba schools in Rio de Janeiro and São Paulo pick their Samba Enredos (the theme songs for their parades). This year, the traditional samba school Beija-Flor selected the theme of Bembé do Mercado – an Afro-Brazilian celebration rooted in the Candomblé religion.
‘Jetski’, Pedro Sampaio, MC Meno K, Melody
This year’s Carnival might belong to Brazilian singer and producer Pedro Sampaio, whose track “Jetski” captures the festival’s playful energy. Also a hit in Portugal, the song’s strong beats and rapped lines are layered with melodic vocals that would make anyone want to get up and dance.
Find these songs on Monocle’s Spotify playlist. And for more on the musical hits of Carnival 2026 tune in to this special episode on ‘The Global Countdown’ on Monocle Radio.
Over the past two decades, Latin American art fair Zona Maco has evolved from a regional showcase into a fixture on the global circuit. When it launched in 2004, it drew roughly 15,000 visitors. But at its 22nd edition last week the crowd swelled beyond 80,000, each person keen for a glimpse of presentations by more than 200 galleries from 26 countries. The fair today is a reflection of Mexico City’s transformation into a point of convergence, a place where regional voices have the floor in global conversations.
Zona Maco’s selection committee includes representatives from Mexico City, New York, Berlin and São Paulo, and this year’s programme was supported by major sponsors from HSBC to Starbucks and Mercedes-Benz – a roster unthinkable in its early years. But the fair’s growth is about more than flashy new logos. In the crucial first 24 hours, between 70 to 80 per cent of visitors were industry professionals: museum directors, curators, advisors and representatives roaming the aisles, business cards in hand.
It’s clear that collectors also want in on the region. In 2024, Latin America’s online art market generated just over $1bn (€843m) in revenue, accounting for 9.2 per cent of the global total. In November 2025, Frida Kahlo’s painting “El Sueño (La Cama)” fetched $54.7m (€46.1m) at a Sotheby’s auction, while Leonora Carrington’s “Les Distractions de Dagobert” sold for $28.5m (€24m) in 2024. At Zona Maco, more than half of the participating galleries hailed from Latin America, with Mexico representing the largest share. “Over the past five years, major international fairs have expanded their curatorial frameworks to foreground Latin American artists,” says the fair’s artistic director, Direlia Lazo. “Historically, the prices of [artwork by] Latin American artists were shaped more by regional socio-economic conditions rather than the significance of the work. In recent years, values have risen in a measured and sustainable way.”
For London-based Cadogan Gallery, Zona Maco has been a turning point. Since debuting at the fair, the gallery has expanded its roster with artists from or working in Latin America now accounting for roughly a quarter of its representation. “We’ve seen strong and growing demand, particularly at international fairs,” says director Freddie Burness. Smaller galleries have felt the shift too. At New York’s JO-HS, half of its artists are Latin American and roughly 75 per cent of recent sales have been of works by creatives from the region. “Early interest came primarily from Peruvian, Venezuelan and Mexican collectors,” says founder Elisabeth Johs. Today, she notes rising engagement from US and Chinese buyers, and widening institutional interest in Latin American creators from the likes of the San Diego Museum of Art and San Antonio Museum of Art. For these galleries and the artists they represent, Mexico City has shown itself to be more than a cursory stop on the art-fair circuit. In the crowded aisles, what feels tangible is not just a market trend but a cultural transformation.
Keen to read more about Mexico’s booming art market? Meet the entrepreneurial trailblazers revitalising Guadalajara’s art scene.
In Washington, one gag is growing tired. This week, Donald Trump celebrated the news that the US economy had surpassed expectations, with promising job growth last month. But among federal employees, jokes about how many of them it takes to change a light bulb – or run a country – are told relentlessly.
Just a year ago, Elon Musk’s now-dissolved Department of Government Efficiency was taking its hacksaw to the US federal workforce – but the Trump administration is finally realising that it takes a significant number of staff to govern a country. When Trump was inaugurated in January 2025, there were 2.4 million federal employees. In the space of a year, more than 317,000 of them were pushed out. Some retired but most took payouts and quit. Others were fired or found that the agencies that they worked for had simply disappeared.
The president assured voters that this culling was necessary to eliminate waste, streamline spending and improve performance. But a year later, it turns out that all of those lawyers, interns, analysts, project managers and accountants were useful after all – and agencies from the Department of Justice to air-traffic control are scrambling to hire new staff to replenish a depleted workforce.
The rehiring began not long after the firing. At the Department of Energy’s National Nuclear Safety Administration, which is tasked with keeping the US nuclear arsenal safe, about 350 people were let go, only for the government to realise that they were rather important and ask them to come back. The same thing happened at the Department of Agriculture, where 25 per cent of staff tackling avian-flu outbreaks were laid off and then rehired. The Internal Revenue Service invited back sacked staff when it became clear that it needed people to process tax returns. And it didn’t take long for some bright spark to realise that culling food-safety examiners could have stomach-churning consequences.
The Brookings Institution think tank, which has been tracking federal comings and goings, estimates that 25,747 federal employees have been fired and rehired. However, not everyone has gracefully accepted the invitation to return. Publicly maligning a group of people as “crooked” or “rogue” tends not to engender loyalty. There are certainly some federal workers dedicated to public service and willing to look beyond partisan politics for the greater good. But there are plenty of others giving a metaphorical middle finger to the White House and taking their talent elsewhere.
Now, many agencies are hiring again. Brookings found that in mid-November 73,000 jobs were posted on USAJobs, the federal government’s official employment site. Only 14,400 candidates, however, were found. The agencies struggling the most to find suitable candidates appear to be those most closely aligned with Trump’s divisive policy agenda. The New York Timesrecently reported that the US attorneys’ offices had shrunk by 14 per cent in a year, a record annual drop.
Many attorneys have chosen to quit rather than work on the nakedly political cases that the administration is sending to their desks. There’s also a hiring bonanza at Homeland Security, which is implementing Trump’s migration crackdown. Staff have already been seconded from other areas, including the FBI and the Drug Enforcement Agency. But it’s still not enough and the department is offering candidates a $50,000 (€42,140) signing bonus in a bid to hit its hiring targets.
So what does this mean for the coming years? There is plenty of doom-mongering: taking FBI agents off the surveillance of extremism could lead to lapses in intelligence gathering, the cuts to weather monitoring could prove deadly and backlogs in processing will mean delayed social-security payments. Time will tell but polls suggest that Americans are worried, with a recent Washington Post survey finding that 63 per cent of people disapprove of their president’s handling of the federal workforce. While most agreed with trimming a little flab off the civil service, paring it right down to the bone is foolish. The self-proclaimed greatest country on Earth cannot be run by a skeleton crew.
Charlotte McDonald-Gibson is a Washington-based journalist and regular Monocle contributor. Read her thoughts on Kristi Noem here.
For more than a decade, Yemen has been ravaged by two distinct conflicts. In the north, Iran-backed Houthi rebels have taken over the capital of Sana’a and driven out Yemen’s UN-backed government. Down south, an independence movement based in the city of Aden and backed by the UAE has sought to reinstate south Yemen as an independent nation, as it was from 1967 to 1990.
Yemen was reunited in 1990 after the fall of the Soviet Union but unity between the regions didn’t last long. The Houthis re-entered the picture as a separate force in 2014, capturing the capital and driving Yemen’s government to Aden. There, southern independence forces entered into their own uneasy partnership with the exiled government and, together with a UAE-Saudi coalition, have tried and failed to drive the Houthis out of northern Sana’a. A truce brokered by the UN in 2022 ended the fighting but did little to resolve the underlying dynamics, instead ushering in an unstable stalemate.
This past December, the stalemate came to an abrupt end, as the anti-Houthi coalition in the south went up in smoke. Across the span of a few days, southern independence forces moved to capture the nation’s southeastern regions, taking control of the resource-rich governorate of Hadhramaut along with a key trading port of interest to the UAE. But the sudden landgrab turned Riyadh against them: the Saudis pushed their erstwhile allies, the UAE, out of Yemen and forced members of the umbrella group for independence, known as the Southern Transitional Council (STC), to disband. The Saudis also pushed the STC out of the unity government in Aden, in favour of the UN-backed government that hopes to one day take back the rest of the country.
Amr al-Bidh, a senior official with the STC and special representative of its president for foreign affairs, tells Monocle that the forced dissolution of the STC “definitely leaves a huge scar” in the nation. Al-Bidh visited Midori House for a conversation with Monocle’s senior news editor, Chris Cermak, about the future of his movement and of southern Yemen. The following transcript has been edited for clarity and length.
On 3 December, forces affiliated with the STC launched Operation Promising Future, capturing Yemen’s eastern provinces of Hadhramaut, Al-Mahra and Shabwa. After years of little change to the status quo, what prompted the move?
The situation was at a stalemate and it wasn’t improving. In fact, it was getting worse security wise. For the STC, which was also part of the [southern] government at that time, we thought that we needed to move into these areas, especially into Wadi Hadhramaut. It’s a path for Houthi smuggling and lots of AQAP [al-Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula] were mobilising freely in that area, threatening other regions we controlled.
From the beginning of the southern movement 30 years ago, it was the STC’s objective to liberate the whole area. We had a war in 1994 against the north, who then occupied us, and there were remnants of their occupation in Wadi Hadhramaut. We had a few reasons for why we thought that now is the time to move: in order to make sure that the Houthis don’t get weapons; that we extend our operation against AQAP and also to liberate the south.
At the end of December, Saudi Arabia bombed the southern Yemeni port of Mukalla and accused the UAE of backing southern forces. Riyadh said that it considered the moves by the STC to be a threat to its national security and that a red line had been crossed. Did the STC miscalculate?
Definitely not. We don’t understand why it was a red line. We had been allies for 10 years. Why were we now a threat to them? The area [we captured] is not by the border to Saudi Arabia – it’s hundreds of miles away. The organisation by the border is the Houthis, not us. So we never thought that Saudi Arabia was going to bomb our soldiers and kill them. People say that we made a miscalculation but no – we didn’t expect them to bomb their allies. That has definitely left a huge scar in our nation, in the south, that our friends did this to us.
In addition to military strikes by Saudi Arabia, the UN-backed Yemeni government gave the UAE a 24-hour deadline on 30 December to leave Yemen. The UAE complied, leaving the STC to fend for itself. This must have made the south feel like it was a pawn in a wider geopolitical game. Was it?
We are allies and we’ve been conducting counterterrorism operations together. The government of Yemen and Saudi Arabia asked them to leave Yemen. Is the call legitimate? We doubt that. But the UAE said yes and left. We’ve been following our goals [for 31 years] and we have to take responsibility for our own actions because the only thing that matters is our people.
On 2 January, an STC delegation that was sent to Riyadh to negotiate a peace with Saudi Arabia wound up announcing the group’s departure from the Yemeni government. The move was not recognised by the STC’s remaining factions, who claimed that the dissolution was announced under duress from the Saudis and was therefore invalid. What was that moment like?
We were shocked. We had lost contact with the delegation in Riyadh – and then suddenly we saw them on TV. We didn’t know what was going on. It definitely wasn’t [a decision] based on our protocols, so it cannot be treated as the dissolution. But we also didn’t understand this move by Saudi Arabia. They asked for a dialogue and dialogue needs to be inclusive. Dissolving a major party in the south, which represents the aspiration of our people, immediately [triggered] a reaction on the streets of Yemen. People held massive rallies, reiterating that the STC is still [here].
Since then, every Friday in Aden has seen weekly demonstrations. In January, demonstrators were barred from the STC offices in Yemen’s second city – but that didn’t stop the protests.
They tried to stop our people from going to the headquarters of the STC; they banned us from going to our offices. That is the message [we must spread]: that our objectives are supported by our people, and that it’s our duty to make sure that these aspirations are achieved.
On 7 January, Aden was captured by Saudi-backed Yemeni government forces. The STC, or what’s left of it, now finds itself having to work with a UN-backed government that has been installed in its place with goals of one day reuniting Yemen. How will the STC work with a government that it doesn’t recognise?
We had been part of the government for a couple of years. There was an agreement to provide services and security, which we were a part of, until we could find a solution with the Houthis. That was the main objective of this period of war. But now, the government has said that they’re not accepting anyone from the STC returning from Riyadh to Aden. They are now responsible for providing services and security. We will definitely ask for dialogue, to see how we’re going to shape the next phase together.
It’s obvious from the messages we received that the idea of taking back Sana’a by force is no longer there. In which case, they should open a dialogue and reach a deal with the Houthis. They can’t stay in Aden for long – people will go out and protest.
What else does the government want? What is the best solution for Yemen as a whole? Is it a federal state? A two-state solution? What’s next? At the STC, we have our own solution, which is to establish a federal state in the south called South Arabia, but that has to be approved by our people through dialogue and a referendum. That’s our main message now.
Today, a measure of stability has returned to southern Yemen. While there might be rallies in support of independence, many Yemenis crave a situation without conflict. How is that squared with the southern independence movement’s goals?
The rallies on the streets do not contradict authorities on the ground seeking to establish stability. The rallies are an expression of what these people want. After that, they go back home and live a normal life. They protest in plazas that are known and safe. This is what is different now, compared to five years ago – and that’s what makes me admire this nation. Through the past 30 years, I haven’t seen any rallies in the south as large as the ones that we have had in the past three weeks. That’s an indication that, even if you fail militarily, you can still win the support of the people.
I understand that Yemen has been a headache for the region and international community for a long time. It was a headache for our own people. We have a long history of the elites deciding on the setup for the people and we have always failed to find the right model. This time, what we want is to give the people the choice, to decide what they want. Let them decide the unity of Yemen.
This interview originally aired on ‘The Briefing’ in two parts, on 5 February and 6 February.
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- Missing in action: A rift emerges as the UAE skips Riyhad’s World Defense Show
The World Defense Show in Riyadh is doing exactly what it was designed to do: project confidence, capability and ambition. Fighter jets roar overhead and precision hardware gleams under the lights. The choreography is immaculate. The absences, however, are louder than the flybys: the UAE is mostly missing in action.
On the exhibitor list, about 30 Emirati companies are still technically present. On the exhibition floor, they are largely absent. The most telling detail is near the centre of the hall, where one of the show’s largest plots – originally allocated to Abu Dhabi defence heavyweight Edge – has been quietly repurposed as a coffee shop. In a sector where square metres signal status and proximity equals power, it is an exquisitely Gulf-style snub: courteous, bloodless and unmistakable.
It was rumoured a few days ago that UAE firms were planning to pull out, linking the decision to lingering strains between Abu Dhabi and Riyadh. And while the country hasn’t commented, it doesn’t actually need to. Defence exhibitions are not neutral marketplaces – they are extensions of statecraft. Turning up is alignment. Staying away is a message.
That message reflects a relationship that has changed from one of co-ordination to competition. Saudi Arabia and the UAE are no longer neatly aligned on the region’s future. The most visible rupture remains Yemen, where once-shared military objectives have drifted apart.
Business is feeling the chill. Some UAE-based companies report increasing difficulty securing Saudi visas – a seemingly mundane hurdle that carries major economic consequences. Trade between the two countries is worth close to $30bn (€25bn) a year and that flow depends on a shared understanding that politics will not interfere with commerce. An assumption being stress tested in public at this year’s World Defense Show.
Given that it is the most politicised of industries and the easiest place to send signals without issuing statements, defence is often where agreement is first put to the test. Empty stands, missing logos and “administrative issues” have become the tools of passive-aggressive international relations. No diplomats are recalled. The message is delivered through floor plans.
The bigger question hovering over the exhibition halls is whether the Gulf can afford to let these tensions drag on. Saudi Arabia and the UAE are competing to be the region’s indispensable hub for capital, industry and influence. Allow politics to seep too far into trade and both countries risk undermining the very model that they are selling to the world.
An apocryphal quote attributed to Ernest Hemingway goes something like, “There are only three sports: bullfighting, motor racing and mountain climbing; all the rest are merely games.” Papa would likely approve, then, of the newest Olympic sport making its debut next week at Milano Cortina: ski mountaineering.
The discipline consists of a ski race, something that the Winter Olympics already have plenty of. But “skimo”, as it’s known for short, demands more of its athletes. While alpine skiers approach supersonic speed – or at least that’s what 150 km/h looks like on the television – they are lent a mechanical ride up to the starting line. Cross-country skiers most certainly put in the aerobic work but they never carve a downhill turn, even during the 50km ski marathon.
Skimo does it all, just like in the old days before chairlifts and gondolas. Competitors clip into ultralight alpine touring skis, which have an adjustable binding that works like a cross-country ski on the ascent and an alpine ski on the descent. With a pair of mohair climbing skins strapped to the bottom of their skis for friction, skimo racers bolt uphill. At the steepest sections, they lash their skis to their packs and sprint on foot. At the top, there’s a touch of triathlon as competitors can make or break a race on their transition: a perfectly timed hop during which they rip off their climbing skins in a single motion, then transition into downhill mode where they navigate pistes on impossibly narrow skis.
In its most majestic form, ski mountaineering races traverse rugged terrain. The Swiss military organises the biennial Patrouille des Glaciers between Zermatt and Verbier, which winds 57.5km with 4,386 metres of ascent across glaciers and over mountain passes, with an average finishing time of around 12 hours. Teams must wear harnesses, equip themselves with ropes and don crampons to negotiate icy climbs.
The version of ski mountaineering that will beam from Bormio onto our screens on 19 February is an admittedly contrived incarnation by comparison. Lycra-clad racers will sprint on a short course looking faintly ridiculous as they essentially run with skis on. The mandatory skis-on-pack section (or “bootpack”) consists of running up artificial stairs to the top, from where they can let gravity take over. The whole thing will be over in three minutes.
But even though ski mountaineering has been bastardised into a made-for-TV spectacle, the sport taps into a noble heritage of mountain exploration. The mechanics and equipment used by skimo athletes during their Olympic races is fundamentally the same as what alpinists have been using to climb and ski the world’s great peaks for more than a century. As the Summer Olympics lean further into faddish urban sports – think Raygun breakdancing at Paris 2024 – skimo’s debut retorts that the essence of winter sports is a connection with the natural world.
While Milano shines, the spiritual heart of these games are Alpine villages such as Cortina d’Ampezzo, with its refurbished century-old bobsleigh track and the striking backdrop of the Dolomites and Livigno Alps. Whatever handwringing lingers about the infrastructure that the Italians didn’t complete in time for their fortnight in the spotlight, the skimo racers – and indeed all of the athletes competing outdoors – will still gulp down fresh mountain air in their final push to the finish line.
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