When it comes to handwriting, I’m ashamed to say my eight-year-old son has a better script than I do. Growing up in the late 1980s, my family were the kind of early technological adopters who would proudly pack me off to school with my word-processed homework even as my classmates wrote out every assignment by hand. 
 
As a result, my handwriting got stuck around the age of six and to this day resembles the scrawling of a child. My actual child, however, is educated in the French lycée system, where students start learning cursive in école maternelle (preschool). Now his beautifully looping vowels and joined-up consonants dance across the page, putting my written words to shame. 

It’s a regular feat of family fun to pore over my shopping lists, as my children take turns to guess the items that I have written down while howling with laughter. My ritual humiliation, however, is nothing compared to the embarrassment of some Americans who reportedly lack the penmanship skills to sign even the most basic financial documentation. 
 
“They can’t sign their mortgage,” Toby Overdorf, a Republican legislator in Florida’s House of Representatives, recently told fellow lawmakers in the Sunshine State. “They can’t sign a bank cheque and I was astonished by this.” 
 
Even worse, many American children apparently can’t read the US Declaration of Independence in its original 18th-century script, even as it takes a central role in classrooms this year as the nation celebrates its semiquincentennial.  
 
So last month, Florida governor Ron DeSantis signed a bill mandating that public schools teach cursive up to the fifth grade, part of a surprising resurrection across the US for a skill that many countries (the French not withstanding) declared moribund many years ago. Pennsylvania also mandated cursive writing in April, joining around half of US states that have revived the most traditional style of joined-up handwriting.
 
As well as allowing US kids to peruse the nation’s founding documents, proponents say that learning cursive helps to develop cognitive ability, hand-eye co-ordination, creativity and fine motor skills, as well as making it easier to identify potential learning disabilities. 
 
But this is a deeply partisan America and nothing is just about the best interests of the child: it is also inevitably about the politics. Reviving cursive has become a conservative cause, embraced as part of a return to the traditional values of the past and a rosy nostalgia for the pre-woke days of education. One of cursive’s most ardent supporters is former Oklahoma schools chief and now anti-union activist Ryan Walters, who achieved brief notoriety in 2024 when he tried to compel every Oklahoma classroom to have a copy of the bible that almost exclusively matched one endorsed by Donald Trump. 
 
But if it’s possible to put politics to one side, I’m all in favour of this revival of the classical writing style. Study after study shows us that learning in the analogue world is much more effective than on a screen. When we read on paper, our eyes dart across the pages between sentences and paragraphs, enhancing our comprehension and retention.
 
We also need to think about what skills children need going into a future jobs market dominated by AI. Children pick up technology quickly and intuitively: it’s literally designed that way, to be as easy to use and as addictive as possible. They don’t need to be taught how to use an iPad. With AI able to automate an increasing amount of our technological tasks, it makes sense to teach children a skill that helps them to slow down and think about what they want to say and how they want to say it. 
 
Then there is the connection to the people in our lives. Every time I sit down to write a thank you note, a birthday card or a condolence message, I wince at my messy writing. I long for those loops and curls that would show my respect and care for the recipient. 
 
So while it’s probably too late for me, I’m delighted that my offspring have acquired this skill – not least so I can start delegating those thank you notes and shopping lists to them.

Argentina’s wild-haired libertarian president, Javier Milei, made political hay for years by skewering his opponents and the opposition for their alleged illicit enrichment (writes Bryan Harris). Anti-corruption formed a central part of his political identity, and at every turn he has derided the establishment as “la casta” – a ruling caste of venal politicians.

Now his rhetoric might come back to haunt him. A series of mounting graft scandals involving top officials in his government now threatens to douse this political firebrand and his chances of re-election next year.

At the centre of the latest scandal is his cabinet chief, Manuel Adorni, who endured a marathon interrogation in Congress this week over a lavish lifestyle inconsistent with his public salary of around $2,500 (€2,123) per month. Adorni and his family, who deny all wrongdoing, have been caught by local media travelling by private jet to Punta del Este, a beach resort in Uruguay. They have also made a series of high-end real-estate purchases. And then there are the questions about the alleged $245,000 (€208,000) cash payment for renovations of a house purchased for less than half that price.

Instead of addressing these home truths, Milei has stood by Adorni. But the cabinet chief is not the only one facing tough questions. The head of Argentina’s tax-collection authority is the subject of a formal indictment over alleged omissions of multimillion-dollar foreign properties from his asset declarations, while a top official at the economy ministry was fired after it emerged that he had not declared his seven apartments in Florida.

The scandals are clearly irking Argentines, who voted for Milei in 2023 on the back of pledges to overhaul the political system. Now corruption ranks as a major public issue again, with polls showing it to be a major concern for 50.3 per cent of Argentines. Milei, meanwhile, appears to be foundering with an approval rating of 35.5 per cent. Despite a landslide victory in last year’s midterms, Milei is now at the weakest point of his term so far. What until recently looked like a safe re-election for Milei next year is now increasingly in doubt.

But corruption is not the only issue weighing on the minds of voters. Argentines appear to be tiring of the country’s lethargic economy. For years, Milei was given the benefit of the doubt as he implemented a programme of reforms and austerity, which succeeded in taming triple-digit inflation and bringing a semblance of stability to one of the world’s most fragile economies. 

Now discontent is rising as business activity slumps in manufacturing, retail and other major industries. Unemployment rose to 7.5 per cent in the last quarter of 2025, the highest level in five years. Real wages have fallen, while annual inflation remains stubborn at about 30 per cent.

Milei will continue to deal with challenges using his characteristic bravado. In a show of support for his cabinet chief, he appeared at Congress during Adorni’s hearing, flashing smiles and giving a big thumbs-up. When questioned by journalists, Milei and those in his government accused the press of being corrupt. Perhaps people in glass houses – whether in Buenos Aires or Washington – shouldn’t throw stones. 

You have to give German chancellor Friedrich Merz some credit for his honesty. This week he admitted that he had “no authority” to convince his own party to back his policies. And just last month he angered the White House by saying that US president Donald Trump was being “humiliated” in Iran. Both things might be true but one year into his tenure, neither comment will win him any friends or favours. 
 
At the helm of a teetering centrist coalition, Merz had little to celebrate during his anniversary in office this week. He might just be the Western world’s least popular leader, with approval ratings hovering at about 20 per cent, well below Donald Trump and on par with lame duck French president Emmanuel Macron and scandal-plagued UK prime minister Keir Starmer. Germany’s economy is stagnant and Merz’s relationship with Trump is in tatters. The US withdrew 5,000 of its troops from Germany this week – as it turns out, telling a narcissist that he has been humiliated is not shrewd diplomacy.

Domestically, Merz has very little to show for his first year in office: coalition infighting has delayed an ambitious health-and-welfare reform bill that was meant to be the administration’s headline act. Things started off well – major chunks of his electoral platform were approved before he even came into power, allowing an expenditure increase for infrastructure and defence, but it took his government until November to pass a budget that allowed it to start spending the money. That cash could help boost Germany’s economy before the year’s out, though Merz’s approval ratings will continue to plummet in the meantime. “It’s partly because he cannot show any progress, which he promised wholeheartedly,” says Annette Dittert, senior correspondent for Germany’s public broadcaster ARD. “But then it’s also very personal,” she adds, pointing to Merz’s “strange, erratic, capricious and jumpy” leadership style.
 
Maybe Merz was never really cut out for the job to begin with – he just doesn’t have the temperament. For a man who has wanted to lead Germany all his life, that will be a hard realisation to have. But Merz’s problem is about more than just his personality: he leads a fractious right-left coalition of Christian Democrats and Social Democrats, two parties that are traditionally at ideological odds. Despite some big promises, his administration has also been plagued by indecision. “Reform should have been done much earlier,” says Carsten Brzeski, chief economist of ING Germany. “If you’re an incoming government – think of Roosevelt or even Trump – it’s about the first 100 days.” 
 
Europe needs competent leadership that stands up to adversaries in Moscow and Beijing, as well as those in the White House. Doing so takes panache. Merz’s willingness to “tell it like it is” might be refreshing but it’s often tactless. Perhaps he could take a page out of Mark Carney’s book to smooth over his rougher edges and offer a more consistent message? For all his faults, however, the chancellor ensured that Germany was Europe’s biggest military spender in 2025 – and the country could yet become the continent’s leading military power in the next decade. 
 
Merz needs to use his penchant for straight-talking to prepare the German public for the challenges ahead and win over his reluctant party. Many of his coalition’s ideas aren’t bad, they’re just taking too long to implement. Unlike some of his European colleagues, he should have the luxury of another 100 days – and he must use them wisely.

Spring in Japan means cherry blossoms and new exhibition openings. Here are three cultural spots to add to your Tokyo itinerary.

Edo-Tokyo Museum
Ryogoku 

It would be hard to miss the hulk that is the Edo-Tokyo Museum. Designed by the late metabolist architect Kiyonori Kikutake and dedicated to the history of Tokyo, this landmark recently reopened after a four-year renovation. Architecture firm OMA were commissioned to nudge the museum into its next chapter. “Rather than physically altering the existing architecture, we took a somewhat ‘non-architectural’ approach, focusing on fully activating its unique spaces and highlighting its extraordinary collection,” says OMA partner Shohei Shigematsu. Music to the ears of those who appreciate Kikutake’s work, which is increasingly hard to find. 

The museum entrance has been refreshed with a procession of shrine-like red gates while the vast galleries now have ceiling projections, transforming static exhibits into immersive displays. There are recreations of old Tokyo buildings such as Nakamura-za kabuki theatre and Hattori Tokeiten (the 1881 watch shop where Seiko began); an Edo-era street and a prewar Dojunkai apartment in Daikanyama, complete with its distinctive metal front door and early-Showa decor. The dining room of a now-demolished house that stood in Shinagawa was saved and moved here, its mountain-cottage interior (all the rage in the early 20th century, apparently), preserved for posterity. Artefacts and visuals record details of everyday life in the city – even a 1980s school lunch – that would otherwise be forgotten. A fascinating trip through 400 years of Tokyo history and culture.  
edo-tokyo-museum.or.jp
1-4-1 Yokoami, Sumida-ku

Mon Takanawa: The Museum of Narratives
Takanawa Gateway City, Shinagawa

Part of railway company JR East’s epic rejuvenation of a corner of Shinagawa (now known as Takanawa Gateway City), Mon Takanawa: The Museum of Narratives doesn’t have a specific theme or permanent collection. Instead, its open spaces and galleries are waiting to be used for whatever the curators put in them. In Japanese, mon can mean both “gate” and “question”, and Mon Takanawa is intended to be a place where modern and traditional culture can connect, with everything on the programme from performance and technology to academia and business. 

The institution’s swirling architecture was designed by Kengo Kuma (now drafting the extension for London’s National Gallery), who mostly used Japanese native plants to green the low-rise building. There’s a theatre, a relaxation area of about 100 tatami mats, an outdoor foot bath and panoramic restaurant. You’ll also find a compact farm, a Shinto shrine and seven types of cherry trees on the rooftop. The opening exhibition, Spiral, Spiral: Evolving Human Narratives (on view until 23 September) takes its cues from the museum’s architecture, a breezy exploration of spirals in Japanese culture from Jomon pottery to conveyor-belt sushi. 

If you go to Takanawa Gateway City, look out for the Newoman shopping centre and Ogawa Coffee’s new food court and book a lounge in the adjacent residential building. If the walk from one end to the other looks daunting, just hop on one of autonomous wooden vehicles that glide around the development.
montakanawa.jp
3-16-1 Mita, Minato-ku

Nonlecture books/arts
Shibuya

Shibuya Center-gai, the teeming heart of Shibuya, is brimming with shops and restaurants, but culture – once a key attraction – is sometimes overlooked. Department store Parco, which has been a feature of Shibuya since 1973, is the honourable exception and has long sponsored groundbreaking art shows and hosted theatrical and film events. Now it has opened Nonlecture books/arts, a freewheeling cultural oasis in a basement space on the crowded sloping street known as Spain-zaka. 

Co-sponsored by outdoor brand Goldwin, Nonlecture offers a lively mix of books on art, design and nature, as well as exhibitions, music and a drink stand serving coffee, wine and beer from microbrewery Vertere. The venue is already being used for talk sessions and book signings. Upcoming events include an exhibition featuring photographs by Ryuai Takano and a conversation with author Shinichi Takei about his book The History of Record Stores in Shibuya ~ & Beyond.

Hearteningly the organisers say: “This is not a place for trend or consumption…It quietly aims to exist as an extension of everyday life in the city of Shibuya.” A welcome breath of fresh air and an excellent addition to the neighbourhood.
nonlecture.jp
Shibuya Zero Gate B1, 16-9 Udagawa-cho, Shibuya-ku

It would be fascinating to know how far ahead Vladimir Putin of Russia was thinking when he ordered his legions across Ukraine’s borders in February 2022. If he gave much thought to the general picture around the 2026 observances of Victory Day – the Russian holiday that commemorates the Nazi surrender in 1945 that takes place on Saturday – he might well have imagined Russia’s flag flying over Kyiv, Odesa and even Moldova, the sputtering remnants of Free Ukraine confined to a few western oblasts around Lviv. Perhaps, he thought, he might send a sarcastic postcard to whichever Siberian penal colony now confined that impertinent comedian Volodymyr Zelensky.
 
Unless Putin proves to have been a surprisingly assiduous diarist, we will never find out. We can, however, be certain that he did not anticipate the present circumstances that this year’s Victory Day build-up has brought into sharp focus. Zelensky, Putin’s nemesis, is not only still in office but conceivably Earth’s most admired individual. Earlier this week he also skipped down the steps of his official jet to attend a European Political Community summit in Yerevan, capital of Armenia – both a former Soviet republic and a country the Putin of 2022 would have assumed was intractably in Russia’s orbit.

On the battlefield in Ukraine, Russia has incurred – by Ukrainian estimations – around 1.3 million casualties. Though Ukraine has also suffered dreadful losses, it is remaking itself as the arsenal not only of Europe but also the Middle East, exporting its air defence and drone expertise to Gulf countries beset by Russian ally Iran. Ukrainian drones strike inside Russia frequently: in the early hours of Monday, one hit an apartment block in the fancy Moscow neighbourhood of Ramenki, 11 stops on the metro from Red Square, over which the Victory Day parade will trundle.
 
That event itself will not be the awesome pageant of Russian firepower that Putin would have preferred beaming at from the reviewing stand. It was announced last week that proceedings would be scaled down due to a “terrorist threat” from Ukraine, which we should interpret as fear that Ukrainian drone operators might perceive this display of martial grandeur as an irresistible target for mischief. This week, Russia was reduced to suggesting a ceasefire for 8–9 May and expressing hope that Ukraine would join it. Zelensky retorted by suggesting one for 5–6 May and expressed hope that Russia would join it, waspishly noting that “human life is incomparably more valuable than the ‘celebration’ of any anniversary”.
 
More miserably still for Putin, plausible reporting suggests that he is now contemplating all of the above largely from bunkers. He has made only two public appearances this year and images of him on television are substantially pre-recorded. He is said to be plagued by fear of assassination – especially since last December’s car-bombing of Lieutenant General Fanil Sarvarov and February’s shooting of Lieutenant General Vladimir Alexeyev, both in Moscow – or a coup. He meets few people in person and his personal staff are forbidden from using smartphones or public transport. He is said to be morbidly micromanaging the war in Ukraine. A keen student of history, Putin will be well aware of the unhappy parallels that might be drawn with another leader whose ambitions of territorial expansion had gone awry in 1945, finding himself cloistered in a subterranean lair, frantically moving imaginary divisions around a map, accompanied by only the most dogged of loyalists.
 
It is, of course, far from impossible that these reports, originating with European intelligence services, are some combination of wishful thinking and “psychological operations” intended to further stoke Putin’s paranoia. But nobody’s patience lasts forever, not even Russia’s. Saturday will be Putin’s fifth Victory Day since the full-scale invasion of Ukraine began – and there’s still no victory in sight.
 
Andrew Mueller is a contributing editor and the host of Monocle Radio’s The Foreign Desk. For more opinion, analysis and insight, subscribe to Monocle today.

Further reading:
– ‘Putin is poisoning generations of Russians’: Mikhail Kasyanov on the future of the nation he once led

Spend any time with Margherita Pellino and you will come away feeling as though you personally knew the eminent Milanese architect and industrial designer Vico Magistretti. You might learn about his love for all things English (so much so that he kept a park bench in his studio, revelling in its lack of comfort) or the fact that he wasn’t to be crossed when it came to having his sacred daily post-lunch nap. Magistretti died in 2006 but his spirit lives on at the city’s foundation, museum and archive that bears his name, housed in the space where he used to work. 

“We spent so much time together,” says Pellino, Magistretti’s granddaughter, who runs the foundation. “He really loved his work. It was the thing that he was truly sure about in his life.” 

Places such as the Magistretti foundation are the lifeblood of Milan’s design scene. As well as being a goldmine for students who come to use the archive – taking inspiration from his most famous designs, such as the Eclisse light produced for Artemide in 1966 and the Atollo light from 1977 for Oluce – they also offer an intimate experience that bigger cultural centres can’t replicate. Coming here is a personal schooling in what motivated Magistretti during his lifetime and the opportunity to feel included in it. “We’re part of the story of the city,” says Pellino. “We have the chance, without being pretentious, to give something back.”

Before taking over the archive, she had worked for a photo agency but it’s clear, listening to the warmth with which she speaks, that she has found her calling. Poring over the 7,000 photos, 30,000 designs, 120 diaries and the 50 models that comprise the basement-level archive is a big task but it’s also cathartic for Pellino, who says that she can make some of Magistretti’s stories re-emerge – tales that she wished she had paid more attention to as a child. Pellino jokes that she doesn’t like the term but a big part of what the foundation has done is “heritage marketing” through cultural exhibitions. 

In the past two years, the foundation has presented a show on Magistretti’s life in the UK, including the time that he spent teaching at London’s Royal College of Art and, for last year’s Design Week, More or Less 60 Chairs in 60 Years – a play on the fact that he did few exhibitions in his lifetime, with two of the most important being 20 Years, 20 Seats in Milan in 1980 and 21 Years, 21 Seats in London the following year. For 2026, the space is hosting Vico Magistretti and Japan, curated by ecal’s Davide Fornari. 

“We thought that every two years we could do an exhibition on Vico’s geographical influences,” says Pellino, explaining that the idea is to alternate years with thematic exhibitions (2027 will focus on lamps). Vico Magistretti and Japan features miniatures of 20 of Magistretti’s industrial-design projects in Japan, from lights to beds and tables to photos and illustrations for his architectural works, including a now-demolished residence in Tokyo and two unbuilt homes by the sea. 

Pellino is enthusiastic about this deep dive into Magistretti’s life and work. She is part of a network of dedicated family members, from Achille Castiglioni’s daughter Giovanna to Gae Aulenti’s granddaughter Nina Artioli, who are keeping alive foundations, archives and studio museums. And while there are question marks about what happens if family members are no longer willing or able to steward such legacies, Pellino knows that the Magistretti archive is protected by the state. Until the day comes when she hangs up her archivist gloves, she will continue delving into the past to keep future generations informed about her grandfather’s work. “He’s the grandparent that I miss the least,” she says. “Because I’m with him every day.”

‘Vico Magistretti and Japan’ is open until 25 February 2027.

At the Josef & Anni Albers Foundation in Bethany, Connecticut, Monocle is being shown tiles that the organisation has made with Italian brand Mutina. Fresh off a flight from the Bel Paese, the team is excited to share the newly launched collection. The pieces of glazed stoneware come in seven shades, including peach, chocolate and sage. They feature just two patterns – a dot or a dash – but juxtaposing the tiles allows for almost endless arrangements. Standing in the heart of the rustic-style building, with pitched white ceilings and windows that look onto trees and a misty lake, associate curator Karis Medina lays the tiles side by side on a long table flanked with wooden chairs. Medina then leads Monocle into the gallery space, where paintings from Josef Albers’s iconic series Homage to the Square hang on a white wall: three squares in shades of grey and sea blue, neatly layered on a board. The tiles’ inspiration is suddenly plain to see.

The foundation, founded by Bauhaus artists Josef and Anni Albers in 1971, is home to many of their artworks but also acts as a research centre, collaborating with creative brands and promoting education (it offers two artist residencies on the property). Both Josef and Anni were “deeply committed to pioneering processes of making work, finding new ways and paths”, says Medina. Next, she leads us into the vault, a room that houses many artworks, as well as Josef’s half-used paint tubes, left untouched since his death in 1976. Medina trails her finger across the shelves and pulls out another Homage to the Square painting with three squares in white, charcoal and mustard.

The Albers – especially Anni – were always keen to experiment with new technologies and believed that good design should be accessible, functional and embedded in everyday life. At the helm of the foundation is its executive director, Nicholas Fox Weber, who knew the couple personally and is always seeking out new ways to extend their mission. This is what prompted the foundation’s collaborations with brands such as Loewe and now Mutina. “The Albers were open to new ideas,” says Weber, speaking from Paris, where he spends much of the year. “I try to maintain that tradition of being receptive to what comes our way. They loved things that were well made. Production quality was extremely important to them.”

Mutina is known for its intricately made tiles and ceramics, making it a natural fit with a foundation that has deep dedication to craft at its heart. Founded in 2005 in the Emilia-Romagna region – the heartland of Italy’s tile industry – Mutina collaborates with leading figures including Spanish architect and industrial designer Patricia Urquiola and Japanese artist-designer Tokujin Yoshioka.

For the brand’s ceo and founder, Massimo Orsini, working with the Josef & Anni Albers Foundation was “a real honour”. An art lover and a serious collector of sculptures, paintings and photographs, Orsini is very open to interesting collaborations with brands and organisations that he respects and admires. But, for him, this partnership felt particularly intuitive. “We were all working together in the same direction, trying to respect the work of Josef Albers,” says Orsini. The idea to bring the two teams together came from Ambra Medda, the co-founder and former director of Design Miami, who works as a consultant for the Josef & Anni Albers Foundation. “We really wanted to achieve something that echoed the work of the artist,” says Medda, who is based in Milan. “The connection with Mutina was very natural because it’s working with the best designers in the world,” she adds. “Massimo loves painting and design, and is a true collector.”

While the partnership felt right, bringing Josef’s work back to life in a fresh way was a careful process and not without its challenges. “We felt a massive amount of responsibility because we were interpreting his work,” says Medda. The success of the collection, she explains, didn’t just lie in each individual tile’s design; it was crucial to ensure that there was a “very simple system where you could create many different patterns with only two variations”. This approach was true to Josef’s work, which challenged our perception of colours and how they relate to one another. “There’s a sense of playfulness – a never-ending play on the square, a sense that these two tiles can be used in different ways,” says Medda.

To create the tiles, Mutina used a traditional firing technique that preserves the natural variations that happen in the kiln and gives the glazed surfaces depth and richness. Much like Josef’s layered paintings, the tiles are built up through the application of successive layers of glaze, a process that demands patience. It took various stages of experimentation and two years of back and forth before everyone agreed on a final design that feels true to the spirit of how the Albers worked. “The Albers could be difficult because they had a very clear vision,” says Weber. “They didn’t compromise on things.” But when they arrived at the final idea for the tiles, both the Mutina team and Weber recognised it immediately. “It was like hearing a piece of music and knowing that you were on pitch or you were in tune,” says Weber. “It wasn’t what I would call an intellectual decision. It was a gut decision.” He likens it to a chef perfecting a dish. “There’s a moment when the taste and texture feel just right.”
mutina.it; albersfoundation.org

Air travel is on course for a rocky summer. In recent weeks, Lufthansa Group axed 20,000 flights from its summer schedule, announced the retirement of its most gas-guzzling aircrafts, grounded an entire subsidiary airline and slashed spending budgets. The company cited the Iran conflict, rising jet fuel costs and labour disputes for the cuts. The question is whether this is a brief change or an acceleration towards alternatives for the sector. 

Few things sharpen the focus of executives like war. After the conflict in Iran began in late February, it took little time for the price of jet fuel to double. Fuel is a significant part of an airline’s operating expenses and large spikes in its cost can have outsized effects. Passing on those increases to passengers can lead to a drop in demand, so some major airlines have leaned on cutting services rather than significantly raising the price of tickets. According to Newsweek, more than 150,000 international flights have been cancelled from March through to June.

The short-term effects of the conflict have placed the sector in limbo. As ceasefire talks between the US, Israel and Iran continue, airlines don’t yet know how the future price or supply of fuel will be affected. Some experts have warned of major disruptions to summer air travel, especially in Europe, which is heavily dependent on Gulf supply. Others aren’t as concerned: while speaking to reporters in London, Wizz Air CEO József Váradi said that he doesn’t expect Europe to have any issues, in part because it can simply buy more jet fuel from the US.

For now, it’s still business as usual in most places, with minor fare hikes and relatively few cancellations. In Asia, however, impacts of the shortage are being felt, with some companies tankering fuel to certain destinations. Despite this, new aircraft are still being ordered, most planes are departing and travellers continue to buy tickets.

The past few months have reminded the industry of its vulnerability. For years, airlines and manufacturers have worked towards reducing their reliance on oil but most changes have been incremental and efficiency gains have largely relied on technological improvements. Advanced engines on the latest generation of aircraft can cut fuel usage by about 15 per cent but the number still adds up across an entire fleet. It is safe to assume, however, that today’s geopolitical climate might speed the search for oil alternatives.

Electric airplanes
While electric- and hydrogen-powered concepts have been in development in recent years, progress has been slow. Most aircraft in the category are designed for short flights with few passengers. In March, however, Airbus officially greenlit plans to build a 100-seat, electric, hydrogen-powered regional airplane, which will enter service in the 2040s. Though this doesn’t provide an immediate solution, the rate of development and new entrants to the field will increase as long as fuel prices stay high.

Energy from cooking oil
Even before the conflict, the industry was beginning to incorporate sustainable aviation fuel (SAF) into operations. Made from cooking oil and municipal solid waste, the fuel reduces overall CO2 emissions up to 80 per cent; it also eliminates the sector’s reliance on oil producers. 

SAF is still more expensive than traditional jet fuel but there are a number of ongoing initiatives to lower its cost and to produce it at the scale required for the industry – and this geopolitical moment could be a tipping point. The European Commission recently announced that it will be accelerating SAF and synthetic-energy development. As the price gap between traditional and alternative jet fuel narrows, it’s likely that airline executives will begin to opt for the latter.

There will, no doubt, be more turbulent moments to come for the aviation industry. But the pinch on oil supplies will probably push airlines to create initiatives to reduce fuel burn and boost development of zero-emission aircraft. Perhaps there’s no better way to weather a storm than to go through it.

Guests at the new Andaz One in Bangkok are left in no doubt about the luxury hotel’s main calling card: one-of-a-kind vistas of Lumphini Park. Views of Thailand’s very first public park can be enjoyed over breakfast on the terrace, while swimming in the infinity pool, or soaking in a fetching green-tiled tub inside a 14th-floor suite. The rooftop restaurant, Piscari, looks west over downtown Bangkok with Lumphini in the foreground. At sunset, I dare anyone not to be impressed by the verdant patch of grass basking in the magic-hour glow – a genuine sight to behold, even for those of us who live in the city. 

Formerly royal land gifted to the public by King Rama VI, Lumphini Park is looking in fine shape for its 100-year anniversary. There have been a raft of upgrades to celebrate the centenary, starting with a fresh lick of paint for the Chinese clocktower that dates to the park’s establishment in 1925 (it was originally commissioned to host a trade fair). Ballroom dancing is back at the 70-year-old Lumphini Hall, the toilets have been spruced up by Central Group, and the makeshift green bridge that links the site to nearby Benjakkiti Park has been replaced with smart, properly designed infrastructure, delighting runners, cyclists and pram pushers alike. What’s more, the neighbourhood’s well-heeled dog owners now have their own space courtesy of a dog park opened to commemorate the 70th anniversary of the Japanese Chamber of Commerce. Meanwhile hungry humans will soon be able to chow down at a purpose-built hawker centre, scheduled to open in May. 

As this should all make clear, Lumphini is not just to be looked at from afar. It is a living, breathing microcosm of Bangkok, home to everything from seniors doing aerobic exercises to the ever-present water monitor lizards – a regular sight in practically every park in the city. Every time I pass the statue honouring the Chaipattana Aerator, a water wheel invented by the late King Rama IX that helps to improve the quality of stagnant water, I can’t help but smile. While the sight of the rudimentary-looking machine placed on a pedestal might confuse tourists, these tools are put to daily use in most public lakes and ponds (no doubt keeping the lizard population in good health too). 

The official celebrations taking place at Lumphini this week feature concerts and fairs, which is similar to its annual programming, and most events are free. Lumphini is without a doubt one of the world’s greatest parks – the best in Asia, if you ask me – and a central part of life in the Thai capital. It is a staple of my family’s weekends and is very much alive from early morning to late at night. While I don’t live close enough to run there regularly (I don’t care for running and certainly not at 05.00), if I did, I might be joined by the governor and senior foreign diplomats. I do, however, enjoy the Sunday-afternoon live music at the bandstand during the cooler months, and my children are partial to the playground, the duck-shaped pedalos and the petting zoo at the annual Red Cross Fair in December. 

If I have one gripe, it’s the access. Two mega developments have opened on the edge of Lumphini in recent years: One Bangkok, where Andaz is situated, and Central Park, home of the Dusit Thani flagship hotel. Yes, the views from the guestrooms are spectacular but getting to the park from these venues involves too much street grit and traffic mayhem for small children and first-time visitors to Southeast Asia – far more daunting than those harmless water monitors. A few underpasses or extra pedestrian bridges would not go amiss. Even some paint and a new crossing would be a good start. Bangkok’s governor is up for re-election in July. He’s a shoo-in to win and seems to have a few more second-term park upgrades up his green sleeve – and not just to the majestic Lumphini.

Further reading:
To see the real Bangkok, head to Lumphini Park at 06.00

The wrath of Vladimir Putin is not an easy burden to shrug off: he is a man known for bearing grudges. Late last year, Russia’s federal executive agency for financial intelligence, Rosfinmonitoring, added Mikhail Kasyanov to its list of designated extremists and terrorists. When Rosfinmonitoring was established on Putin’s instructions in 2001, Kasyanov was prime minister.

At that time, neither leader was yet 50 years old, and the pair inspired optimism among Western democracies that perhaps Russia was, at last, preparing to join them. There was even some giddy talk of Russia becoming a member of Nato, and in 2000, Putin stated publicly that he wouldn’t rule out joining the alliance. By 2008, however, Russia had invaded a Nato aspirant, Georgia. Then in 2014, Russia commenced its assault on another, Ukraine.

Kasyanov, an engineer by education, had risen through Russia’s post-Soviet Ministry of Economy to become minister of finance by 1999; Putin made him prime minister the following year. Kasyanov’s efforts to liberalise Russia’s economy in the early years of this century did help the country recover from the chaotic collapse of the 1990s but did not endear him sufficiently to Putin to keep him in his position: Putin sacked him, along with the entire cabinet, before Russia’s presidential election of 2004. 

Kasyanov attempted to run for president himself in 2008 but his candidacy was rejected by Russia’s Central Election Commission on dubious technical grounds. Kasyanov subsequently co-founded the People’s Freedom Party alongside Boris Nemtsov, who was assassinated in Moscow in 2015. Since then, Kasyanov has been a prominent critic of Putin – though it is difficult to know how much of his messaging still registers inside Russia.

Kasyanov now lives in Riga, Latvia. He spoke to Monocle’s Andrew Mueller at the recent Delphi Economic Forum.

When you became prime minister in 2000, what kind of country did you hope Russia might be by 2026?
It was absolutely clear to me that Putin and I were committed to building a democratic Russia with a market economy. Putin supported the majority of reforms that I wanted and my cabinet pulled Russia out of the economic crisis to a trajectory of sustainable growth. We had excellent relations with the EU. We had good relations with the US. I even publicly announced that my country would be a full-fledged member of Nato and EU, that we were strategic partners, and our goal was a free-trade zone and visa-free zone from Lisbon to Vladivostok.

In retrospect, was Putin sincere about wanting those things?
Yes but he simultaneously wanted to be recognised as a great leader. He thought that democratic rules, or international law, were things that should be interpreted the way he wanted.

Is it clear to you why he wanted to be recognised as the kind of leader he has become, rather than as a liberalising moderniser?
He thought mostly about his personal influence and personal respect, and when he started to get criticism from European and American leaders, he began to change. In his [2007] speech in Munich, he said that we were surrounded by enemies and started building a different policy. In 2008, he began to test the situation with the invasion of Georgia. And the West turned back to Putin and conducted business as usual. Putin took this as being given a special ticket that allowed him to act this way and the annexation of Crimea was the result.

Since 2022 especially, a narrative has taken hold in Europe that Russia is irreconcilable, that it can’t be a European country in the way that others [in the region] are. Do you agree with that?
Leaders should educate and lead people, rather than cultivate the negative aspects of their characters. Putin is poisoning generations of Russians. It is absolutely wrong and [he] will be reconsidered by Russians, I hope, soon.

Does Putin have to go before that can happen?
Any leader who will come after Putin, even [if they come] from Putin’s circle, will be looking for negotiations with the West to stop the war immediately. Russia is already integrated in the global economy and global affairs, European in particular. All people, even those around Putin except a few KGB [members], understand that Russia’s future is with Europe. We conducted the right policy in the beginning of this century and Putin was one of its producers. But he made a big mistake and now cannot get out of the problems that he [created] for the country.

You’ve been accused, along with a few others such as Vladimir Kara-Murza, Mikhail Khodorkovsky and Garry Kasparov, of conspiring to overthrow the Russian regime. Is there any possibility that Putin’s successor could be an exile returning or does the next leader have to come from within Russia?
No one from outside could be elected and democracy couldn’t happen overnight. Russia would have to, unfortunately, go through a very difficult time. It could be five to 10 years [before change happens]. Any leader who will step in instead of Putin will lack legitimacy and that’s why they would need to build up. They could start liberalisation to a certain extent but the country will be unstable for a long period. But a democratic Russia could be built with Western support.