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  • Saturday Wrap, from The Week
    A looming deadline, a sombre anniversary, and the controversy of Bonnie Blue

     
    controversy of the week

    Trump's deadline

    Donald Trump has spent years boasting about his closeness to the man he calls "Vladimir", but his "cherished bromance" with Russia's president is "now at breaking point", said Hugh Tomlinson in The Observer. In the last fortnight, Trump set an accelerated 8 August deadline for Moscow to either agree to a ceasefire in Ukraine or face crippling secondary sanctions, and deployed two nuclear submarines closer to Russia in response to veiled threats made by Russia's former PM, Dmitry Medvedev.

    Insiders say the US president is "genuinely pissed off" with Putin and frustrated that, despite their many phone calls, he has done nothing to rein in the bloodletting in Ukraine. "He talks, we have such nice conversations… and then people die the following night," Trump recently complained. And as his envoy Steve Witkoff went to Moscow this week for last-ditch talks, Trump reiterated his threat of secondary sanctions, saying he'd slap tariffs of 100% on any country buying Russian oil. He might be bluffing, said The Independent. His submarine deployment was largely "symbolic": several US nuclear subs are already in range of Russia. It is possible, though, that he has now realised that Putin has "no interest in making peace", and will only respond to force.

    But is Trump up for the fight, asked James Ball in The i Paper. He has issued ultimatums before, which Putin has simply ignored: bombardments of Ukraine have increased since Trump returned to office. And the Russian leader seems similarly uncowed by this latest threat, responding to it with the deadliest attack on Kyiv in a year. Putin's view remains unchanged: that the US will tire of the conflict, and that if he waits things out, he'll "get a deal on his own terms". It's a risky strategy, though, said The Washington Post. If Trump does impose secondary sanctions on Russian energy exports, it will strike at the very heart of "Putin's war machine". Oil revenues are the "lifeblood" of Russia's economy. Putin has weathered existing sanctions by developing a new network of trading partners for its oil and gas exports, particularly China and India. If Trump targets those countries, then Russia's economy, already on the brink of recession, could collapse.

    Unfortunately, there would also be consequences for the US, said Luke McGee in Foreign Policy. Secondary sanctions could lead to a jump in oil prices, which would hit Americans at the gas pumps and damage the US economy; they could also undermine the ongoing trade talks between the US and China. So it's quite likely that Trump will once again "chicken out" – and that might prove a definitive moment in this war. With his new deadline, Trump has "drawn a line in the sand". If he lets that line become blurry, Putin will know for certain that "he can do whatever he wants with no repercussions". In turn, said The Times, the US will be "irrevocably weakened on the world stage".

     
     
    BRIEFINg

    The atomic bombings

    Eighty years ago, the US detonated two nuclear weapons over the Japanese cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki

    What were the origins of the bomb?
    Nuclear fission – the splitting of an atom of a heavy element, releasing vast amounts of energy – was discovered at the Kaiser Wilhelm Institute for Chemistry in Berlin in 1938. News soon spread of its vast potential. In March 1940, two refugee physicists at the University of Birmingham, Rudolf Peierls and Otto Frisch, issued a memorandum to the UK government, predicting that an airborne atomic "superbomb" capable of destroying "the centre of a big city" could be created. It was vital, they warned, to beat the Nazis to its development. The British nuclear programme – codenamed Tube Alloys – started in 1941, but the UK lacked the necessary resources to build a bomb; British expertise was subsumed into the US nuclear programme.

    What resources did the US have?
    The Manhattan Project, as it was later codenamed, began modestly in 1939, but from 1942 it grew to employ around 130,000 scientists, engineers and support staff, at a cost of over $2 billion (or about $39 billion in today's money). Fewer than a dozen knew they were working on an atomic bomb specifically. Most of the money was spent producing fissile materials – enriched uranium and plutonium; less than 10% was spent developing the weapons at the Los Alamos facility in New Mexico. The Trinity Test, the first-ever detonation of an atomic bomb, took place on 16 July 1945.

    What triggered the bomb's use? 
    This is a controversial question, but the short answer is: the need to end the Second World War. By July 1945, the bomb's first intended target, Germany, had surrendered, but Japan was fighting on, and while US victory seemed inevitable, the Pacific war had taken the lives of more than 115,000 US soldiers. During the battle for the outlying Japanese island of Okinawa, launched in April 1945, almost the entire Japanese defending force of more than 90,000 perished, along with as many as 100,000 civilians. More than 12,000 US servicemen were killed in action; kamikaze pilots sank some 26 ships. It convinced the US leadership that an invasion of Japan's home islands would be immensely costly.

    Why didn't Japan surrender?
    It was Allied policy to demand unconditional surrender. This was reiterated by the Potsdam Declaration of 26 July 1945, in which the US, Great Britain and China stated that if Japan did not accept these terms, it faced "prompt and utter destruction". Japan's military leaders felt this was too "dishonourable", and were concerned about the future status of Emperor Hirohito, who was regarded as an incarnate god, and whether he would remain in power. PM Kantaro Suzuki rejected the declaration – somewhat ambiguously – and President Truman authorised the use of the atomic bomb at any time after 3 August; the US had enough fuel for three bombs.

    How was the first bomb dropped?
    At 2.45am on 6 August, a B-29 bomber – named Enola Gay after the mother of the pilot, Colonel Paul Tibbets – left the Mariana Islands. The weather was clear, and en route it was confirmed that the city of Hiroshima, home to 350,000 and a large army base, would be the target for its single bomb – codename Little Boy – which contained 64kg of uranium, with the power of some 15,000 tons of TNT. At 8.15am it was dropped from 31,600 feet over the city; 44 seconds later, as Enola Gay retreated at full speed, it detonated at 1,968 feet above ground level. A blinding flash lit up Hiroshima, as the bomb's "burst point" reached more than one million degrees celsius, and sent a mushroom cloud billowing some 50,000 feet into the air.

    What was its impact at ground level?
    An atomic shockwave tore through the city, incinerating everything within a 1.5-mile radius; the ensuing firestorm destroyed virtually everything within a 4.5-mile radius. "It was like no ordinary fire," a crew member later recalled. "It contained a dozen colours, all of them blindingly bright." Some 60,000 buildings were instantly destroyed. The death tolls are contested, but between 90,000 and 160,000 people died in Hiroshima – about half on the first day, the rest from radiation sickness and burns within a year. It was, said one survivor, Sunao Tsuboi, "a living hell on Earth. I saw a schoolgirl with her eye hanging out of its socket. People looked like ghosts, bleeding and trying to walk, before collapsing. Some had lost limbs. There were charred bodies everywhere… The smell of burning flesh was overpowering."

    Did it force Japan's surrender? 
    Not immediately. President Truman confirmed that the bomb had been dropped, and warned: "If they do not now accept our terms, they may expect a rain of ruin from the air the like of which has never been seen on this Earth." On 9 August, another B-29 – Bockscar – was loaded with an atomic bomb, this time made with plutonium: it was codenamed Fat Man. Its initial target was the city of Kokura, but its view from the air was obscured by smoke, so nearby Nagasaki was chosen instead. The second – and final – atomic bomb ever to be dropped on humans exploded at 11.02am on 9 August 1945. Between 40,000 and 70,000 people were killed in the immediate aftermath; the city was somewhat protected by its position in a valley. Six days after Nagasaki, Hirohito made his first-ever broadcast to the Japanese people, to announce the country's surrender. (Even then, the Supreme War Council had been split 3 to 3; Hirohito had the casting vote.) It was signed aboard the USS Missouri on 2 September, bringing the Second World War to a close.

    A necessary evil or "atomic blackmail"?
    "My God, what have we done?" wrote Enola Gay's co-pilot Robert Lewis in a log composed while flying back from Hiroshima. His sense of a foreboding at the scale of the destruction was widely shared. However, for many years, in the US and Britain, Truman's justification for dropping the bombs – "to end the war quickly and save countless lives" – was accepted almost without question. Most of America's political and military leadership shared his view. In May 1945, the Interim Committee, which guided nuclear policy, had concluded by consensus (though one member later dissented) "that the bomb should be used against Japan as soon as possible; that it be used on a war plant surrounded by workers' homes; and that it be used without prior warning". The US was, after all, fighting a fanatical and brutal enemy. And the bombing of enemy cities had been policy for years: some 100,000 people were killed in the firebombing of Tokyo on 9-10 March 1945.

    In the 1960s, revisionist historians began to question every aspect of Truman's account. Had the bombs ended the war? Or had the Soviet Union's declaration of war against Japan on 8 August – and assurances given that Hirohito would not be punished – played a bigger role? Stalin had called the decision "atomic blackmail": a warning to the Soviet Union. It was argued that Truman had more humane alternatives: blockading Japan, using the bomb on an exclusively military target, or negotiating more acceptable surrender terms. Today, historical opinion is still sharply divided.

     
     

    Spirit of the age

    Keir Starmer told his biographer that as a child, he didn't like his first name – apparently given to him in honour of Labour co-founder Keir Hardie; and it seems he has now put other people off it. Last year, no child was named Keir in England and Wales for the first time in three decades. At the name's peak, in 1998, there were 70 baby Keirs. By contrast, Nigel – which is very rare, with zero recorded in three of the last 10 years – may be experiencing a mild resurgence: five were registered in 2024.

     
     
    Viewpoint

    New dual carriageways

    The A9 is a notoriously annoying road to drive, though it is far better than it was when I was a child. Furious queues [of cars] would accumulate behind caravans and lorries for a hundred miles in the days when it had no dualled sections. I know a proper widening [between Perth and Inverness] is long overdue… But I also can't help imagining the Highlands when they were bisected by nothing but a quiet lane, when birdsong sounded louder than the throaty hiss of incessant traffic. How long before we get another lane, and another? Or will population decline arrive before the inexhaustible fleets of caravans and cyclists?"

    Juliet Samuel in The Times

     
     
    talking point

    Bonnie Blue: taking clickbait to extremes

    "You know what would make this world a better place? More pornography." No sensible person has ever said that, yet every day, more pornography – more women encouraging men to use them like "old dishrags" – is what we get, said Hadley Freeman in The Sunday Times. Sometimes, there are "small panics" about this. Last week, Channel 4 caused a stir with its documentary about Bonnie Blue, a 26-year-old who has won a huge following by posting clips of her extreme pornographic stunts. It focuses on one last year, in which she supposedly had sex with 1,057 men in 12 hours. This is "squalid", "end of days stuff", said Carol Midgley in The Times. We saw Blue (real name Tia Billinger) inviting men to "treat me like your slut", and "rearrange my insides"; and a shuffling queue of volunteers, many naked save for T-shirts and "bobbling sports socks", waiting to take up that offer. That some wore balaclavas for their very brief contribution to this bleak (and barely pixelated) spectacle gave it an extra "'rapey' flavour".

    Channel 4 claims it is opening up a debate, said India Block in London's The Standard. But really, the film is just an excuse to show explicit sex and whip up a media storm. People accuse Blue of normalising violent porn and leading women down a dark path – yet it is men who create the market for sex work. I see her videos as akin to performance art, with echoes of Marina Abramovic. Either way, they're a logical response to the "attention economy". In a saturated arena, it takes increasingly extreme or outrageous content to attract attention and generate the clicks that translate into cash. Blue claims to make £1 million a month.

    She says she is a feminist, said Pravina Rudra in The i Paper. Yet if a man did this, we'd still be "grossed out". She sells degradation, not sex positivity. The phrase "for the male gaze" could have been coined for her. And she makes misogynistic remarks about the wives of the men she has sex with to get more users to her sites (a tactic called "rage bait"). Her films are not art, they're marketing, and she is no manifestation of feminism; she "is the endpoint of capitalism, where everything can be laid to the side in pursuit of profit", including your own body.

     
     

    It wasn't all bad

    The world's most premature baby has celebrated his first birthday – and also won a place in Guinness World Records. The book's compilers said that Nash Keen had overcome "phenomenal odds" to survive being born at the gestational age of 21 weeks. His mother's due date was still 133 days away when he was born last July, and he weighed only 10oz – about the same as a bar of soap. His parents, from Ohio, had previously lost a daughter who was born at 18 weeks. "He's just very determined," said his mother, and he "smiles all the time".

     
     
    people

    Lenny Henry's life-changing role

    When Lenny Henry was growing up in Dudley, in the West Midlands, his mother Winifred set great store by her "integration project". She had come to England from Jamaica as part of the Windrush generation, but found her expectations unmet: it was the 1960s, when Black children were advised to walk around in pairs; and people would say "horrible things to her in the street". Her advice to Lenny and his siblings was to "go out and make friends with people" – to integrate. "She would say, 'Talk how they talk, eat their food, don't moan if there are small portions – they are just English.'"

    In 2015, 17 years after her death, her "project" was finally completed, when her son was awarded a knighthood. By the time she died, he'd been on TV for decades and was hugely popular; but it wasn't until he took the lead role in a production of "Othello" in 2009, he told Jonathan Dean in The Sunday Times, that he felt he had properly made it. It's strange, he says. Comedy is "really important among real people"; when the public talk about their favourite TV moments, they'll often mention things that made them laugh. And being funny is "hard work". Yet it doesn't seem to command much respect in the arts world. "With comedy, it's all 'daft bugger'," says Henry, laughing. "But the minute you do 'Othello', people go, 'Oh, you've had to work!'" Being in a play, he says, "changed my life".

     
     

    Image credits, from top:  Brendan Smialowski / AFP / Getty Images;  Charles Levy / Keystone-France/ Gamma-Keystone / Getty Images; Gilbert Flores / Variety via Getty Images; Jordan Mansfield / Comic Relief / Getty Images
     

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