Latest news with #Machiavellian
Miami Herald
5 hours ago
- Science
- Miami Herald
Orcas seen giving food to humans, study says. Is it kindness or something else?
In the fall of 2018, a lone killer whale approached a boat in the Pacific Ocean. It didn't attack the vessel — as has happened numerous times in recent years. Instead, it offered up an unexpected gift. The apex predator 'dropped a dead whole harbor seal directly under where we were standing,' Jared Towers, the director of Bay Cetology, told McClatchy News. After delivering the carcass, the orca slowly swam a lap around the boat, perhaps waiting to see what would happen. But, when no one onboard took an interest in the free meal, it snapped the prey back up and promptly devoured it. This curious behavior, it turns out, was not an anomaly. In fact, it has happened more than two dozen times across four oceans, according to a study published June 30 in the American Psychological Association. 'The accounts of killer whales offering prey and other items to humans presented here, suggest that these are not isolated events but rather, represent a unique form of behavior that has been selected for in this species,' the authors wrote. What exactly motivates orcas to give gifts to humans is unclear, but it could stem from kindness, curiosity or even — more ominously — a 'Machiavellian' impulse. Gift-giving orcas To conduct the study, a team of researchers collected data on worldwide human-orca interactions that occurred between 2004 and 2024. In total, they uncovered 34 separate accounts of wild orcas offering up prey to people situated on boats, in the water or on shore. These took place off the coasts of North and South America, Europe and Australia. The marine predators served up 18 species of wildly different sizes, including a sea star, a spotted jelly, a sea otter, an ocean sunfish and a gray whale. In nearly all of the cases, the orcas delivering the offerings were part of larger group. And in every case but one, they stuck around to see how the humans would react. In some instances, people retrieved the dead animal before placing it back in the ocean. After this happened, on two occasions, the orcas proved persistent, placing the prey back in front of the people. Kindness or something else? Researchers hypothesized a handful of factors that could play into the orcas' gift-giving behavior. 'There are a few drivers of this behavior to consider,' Towers said. 'First, killer whales often kill large prey which means they often have surplus.' Because killer whales can end up with more food than they can consume in one sitting — and since they lack ways to transport or preserve prey — it may quickly lose its value, meaning it can be discarded. 'Second, sharing of resources is foundational to their evolution so sharing with us may be a way to practice learned cultural behavior,' Towers said. And, 'third, killer whales have massive brains which they apparently use to explore the behavior of other animals in their environment (like us).' In short, the killer whales may just be charitable or curious. But, there's still one other option that could help explain the whales' peculiar behavior. 'While seemingly prosocial and altruistic, it can also not be ruled out that these cases were Machiavellian in nature,' the authors wrote, indicating the orcas could be attempting to manipulate humans. They noted that killer whales in captivity have been documented using dead prey as bait to lure other species near in order to kill them. That said, no humans have ever been killed by wild orcas. And, while interesting, Towers also cautioned that this behavior is unlikely to be that widespread in orcas. 'I think it's important to recognize that although there are a number of cases of orcas attempting to provision people around the world,' Towers said, 'that these cases are very rare and are usually documented by people who spend a lot of time studying wild orcas.'
Yahoo
a day ago
- Automotive
- Yahoo
Commentary: If a 7-hour road trip up the 5 doesn't ruin your marriage, nothing will
My husband and I spent much of the weekend driving from Los Angeles to Petaluma, and back, to attend a wedding. The trip began, as our car trips inevitably do, with my husband asking me to find the best route via Apple Maps and then arguing with every direction the app offered. Out loud, as if the app's 'voice' could hear him. As in 'What? That makes no sense. Why take the 118 when we can just keep going and pick up the 5 in a few miles?' or 'I knew we should have taken my shortcut back there. Look, now we're just sitting in traffic. I thought these apps were supposed to help you avoid traffic.' If, during these early explosions, I am sufficiently caffeinated, I calmly suggest that the traffic on alternate routes is probably much worse. If I am not, I simply snap that he was the one who asked to use Maps in the first place and if he doesn't like it, he should just take whatever route he wants like he always does anyway. We have been married for a very long time. Long enough, in fact, for me to remember a time when the voice he would argue with was mine, as I bent over the Thomas Guide or some impossibly large map and we exchanged, in heated tones, our deep and personal feelings for one route or another. (He, for example, thinks the 405 is just another freeway while I know it is a shimmering sliver of Hell designed by Satan to suck the life out of unwary motorists.) Read more: Pair these L.A. road trips with a hike and a lunch After 30 years of road travel together, I know that any trip of more than 10 miles will be filled with either exasperation over roadwork delays or complaints about how 'they really need to fix this road' and that there is no point in arguing that local government simply does not have the organizational wherewithal, never mind the motivation, to 'time the lights' in such a way to intentionally make his life more difficult. (But if L.A. city or county is looking for someone to fix their traffic lights, Richard is available.) As we headed toward the wedding, I found myself hoping that the couple we would be celebrating had spent enough time in the car together. Any long-term personal relationship requires the acknowledgment and acceptance of certain things about your partner. In L.A. especially, that means being able to live with the way they drive, even when … no, especially when, this seems at odds with every other facet of their nature. My husband is a rational man who believes in the laws of science. Until he enters a car and his notion of time and space become defined by movement — any 'shortcut' that allows the car to remain in motion is better than sitting in traffic, even if it makes the trip much longer in minutes and miles. He is also notably sweet and sympathetic, always willing to think the best of his fellow humans. Except from behind the windshield, where he views the world as teeming with schemers and brutes, acting on all manner of Machiavellian impulses. If Richard designed a driving app, it would be called 'This Sonuvabitch.' As in 'this sonuvabitch knows I want to get over and keeps creeping up so I can't.' Or 'this sonuvabitch is mad because I passed him and now he's riding my tail.' Traffic in L.A. is quite literally maddening and I too am guilty of loudly questioning the sanity of that guy in the blue Honda who thinks he can make a left on La Cienega at rush hour or the woman who has stopped traffic in an effort to parallel park in a space that anyone with eyes can see is too small for her freaking Bronco. But I never take their choices personally. Read more: Commentary: Why on earth is Dr. Phil involved in immigration raids? Another made-for-TV event from a reality star president Richard takes it all very personally, offering a steady stream of criticism and muttered instructions — 'that's it, you can do it, just turn the wheel, it's not difficult' — to any driver not performing up to his standards. Neither conversation nor music provides much of a distraction — he will talk right over his beloved Aaron Copland, never mind me. Even the suggestion that he put his ability to conjure such vividly precise character defects and psychological motivations to better use in, say, fiction writing, has been to no avail. He is, I hasten to add, a good and safe driver, aggressive only rhetorically. And so, as one must do in marriage, I have sought the serenity to accept the things I cannot change. As we made our expletive-fueled way up the 5, I silently soothed myself with the knowledge that in a couple of hours, we'd need to take a restroom break and then I would slide into the driver's seat and stay there until we arrived. Since our rule is that the driver controls the audio, I had queued up 'I, Claudius' read by Derek Jacobi on Audible. I have also been married long enough to know that the one thing my former-theater critic husband won't disrupt is a masterful performance. Not so Maps, which, as we neared San José, began chiming in with a quite complicated alternate route, designed, I assumed, to avoid freeway traffic. Richard was not at all pleased by either the interruptions or the route, and it was frankly hilarious to listen to him vent about precisely the sort of shortcut he himself is known for. Indeed, I found myself feeling a personal bond with the calm and implacable voice guiding our progress even as my spouse spluttered and argued. Not only was she a third-party recipient of road-trip frustration, the voice of Maps seemed to take on the kind of objective helpfulness of a good therapist. Read more: Commentary: In his quest for cultural dominance, Trump threatens what makes America great She is simply not interested in the 'you always,' 'I never' emotional quagmires a gridlocked freeway or rerouting decision can churn up. When I missed a turn, she didn't care at all when my husband asked if whoever programmed Maps had ever actually driven a car and if they were so smart, could they not see that truck that wouldn't let us get over? She just continued to suggest that we 'proceed to the route.' Being the proud participant in a decades-long relationship, which, despite its many compromises and workarounds, remains solid and loving, I, of course, had been wondering what sort of advice I might, if only in my imagination, offer the soon-to-be-newlywed couple. And here was Maps doing it for me. Marriage is like a road trip; no matter how much you love the other person in the car, if it lasts long enough, you will drive each other a little nuts. My husband's explosive commentary sometimes amuses me and sometimes wears me down. But at this point, if he didn't complain about the timing of the lights or 'this sonuvabitch who doesn't know you can make a right on red,' I would worry that he was having a stroke. Among the glories of the journey and the intimacy of the conversation, there will always be missed turns, ill-fated routes and arguments over how to cope with the forces that surround you. But if you choose to stay in the car, then the only real option is to keep moving forward. Or as Maps would say, proceed to the route. Get notified when the biggest stories in Hollywood, culture and entertainment go live. Sign up for L.A. Times entertainment alerts. This story originally appeared in Los Angeles Times.
Los Angeles Times
a day ago
- Automotive
- Los Angeles Times
If a 7-hour road trip up the 5 doesn't ruin your marriage, nothing will
My husband and I spent much of the weekend driving from Los Angeles to Petaluma, and back, to attend a wedding. The trip began, as our car trips inevitably do, with my husband asking me to find the best route via Apple Maps and then arguing with every direction the app offered. Out loud, as if the app's 'voice' could hear him. As in 'What? That makes no sense. Why take the 118 when we can just keep going and pick up the 5 in a few miles?' or 'I knew we should have taken my shortcut back there. Look, now we're just sitting in traffic. I thought these apps were supposed to help you avoid traffic.' If, during these early explosions, I am sufficiently caffeinated, I calmly suggest that the traffic on alternate routes is probably much worse. If I am not, I simply snap that he was the one who asked to use Maps in the first place and if he doesn't like it, he should just take whatever route he wants like he always does anyway. We have been married for a very long time. Long enough, in fact, for me to remember a time when the voice he would argue with was mine, as I bent over the Thomas Guide or some impossibly large map and we exchanged, in heated tones, our deep and personal feelings for one route or another. (He, for example, thinks the 405 is just another freeway while I know it is a shimmering sliver of Hell designed by Satan to suck the life out of unwary motorists.) After 30 years of road travel together, I know that any trip of more than 10 miles will be filled with either exasperation over roadwork delays or complaints about how 'they really need to fix this road' and that there is no point in arguing that local government simply does not have the organizational wherewithal, never mind the motivation, to 'time the lights' in such a way to intentionally make his life more difficult. (But if L.A. city or county is looking for someone to fix their traffic lights, Richard is available.) As we headed toward the wedding, I found myself hoping that the couple we would be celebrating had spent enough time in the car together. Any long-term personal relationship requires the acknowledgment and acceptance of certain things about your partner. In L.A. especially, that means being able to live with the way they drive, even when … no, especially when, this seems at odds with every other facet of their nature. My husband is a rational man who believes in the laws of science. Until he enters a car and his notion of time and space become defined by movement — any 'shortcut' that allows the car to remain in motion is better than sitting in traffic, even if it makes the trip much longer in minutes and miles. He is also notably sweet and sympathetic, always willing to think the best of his fellow humans. Except from behind the windshield, where he views the world as teeming with schemers and brutes, acting on all manner of Machiavellian impulses. If Richard designed a driving app, it would be called 'This Sonuvabitch.' As in 'this sonuvabitch knows I want to get over and keeps creeping up so I can't.' Or 'this sonuvabitch is mad because I passed him and now he's riding my tail.' Traffic in L.A. is quite literally maddening and I too am guilty of loudly questioning the sanity of that guy in the blue Honda who thinks he can make a left on La Cienega at rush hour or the woman who has stopped traffic in an effort to parallel park in a space that anyone with eyes can see is too small for her freaking Bronco. But I never take their choices personally. Richard takes it all very personally, offering a steady stream of criticism and muttered instructions — 'that's it, you can do it, just turn the wheel, it's not difficult' — to any driver not performing up to his standards. Neither conversation nor music provides much of a distraction — he will talk right over his beloved Aaron Copland, never mind me. Even the suggestion that he put his ability to conjure such vividly precise character defects and psychological motivations to better use in, say, fiction writing, has been to no avail. He is, I hasten to add, a good and safe driver, aggressive only rhetorically. And so, as one must do in marriage, I have sought the serenity to accept the things I cannot change. As we made our expletive-fueled way up the 5, I silently soothed myself with the knowledge that in a couple of hours, we'd need to take a restroom break and then I would slide into the driver's seat and stay there until we arrived. Since our rule is that the driver controls the audio, I had queued up 'I, Claudius' read by Derek Jacobi on Audible. I have also been married long enough to know that the one thing my former-theater critic husband won't disrupt is a masterful performance. Not so Maps, which, as we neared San José, began chiming in with a quite complicated alternate route, designed, I assumed, to avoid freeway traffic. Richard was not at all pleased by either the interruptions or the route, and it was frankly hilarious to listen to him vent about precisely the sort of shortcut he himself is known for. Indeed, I found myself feeling a personal bond with the calm and implacable voice guiding our progress even as my spouse spluttered and argued. Not only was she a third-party recipient of road-trip frustration, the voice of Maps seemed to take on the kind of objective helpfulness of a good therapist. She is simply not interested in the 'you always,' 'I never' emotional quagmires a gridlocked freeway or rerouting decision can churn up. When I missed a turn, she didn't care at all when my husband asked if whoever programmed Maps had ever actually driven a car and if they were so smart, could they not see that truck that wouldn't let us get over? She just continued to suggest that we 'proceed to the route.' Being the proud participant in a decades-long relationship, which, despite its many compromises and workarounds, remains solid and loving, I, of course, had been wondering what sort of advice I might, if only in my imagination, offer the soon-to-be-newlywed couple. And here was Maps doing it for me. Marriage is like a road trip; no matter how much you love the other person in the car, if it lasts long enough, you will drive each other a little nuts. My husband's explosive commentary sometimes amuses me and sometimes wears me down. But at this point, if he didn't complain about the timing of the lights or 'this sonuvabitch who doesn't know you can make a right on red,' I would worry that he was having a stroke. Among the glories of the journey and the intimacy of the conversation, there will always be missed turns, ill-fated routes and arguments over how to cope with the forces that surround you. But if you choose to stay in the car, then the only real option is to keep moving forward. Or as Maps would say, proceed to the route.
The Hindu
a day ago
- Business
- The Hindu
A triangular dynamic in South Asia's power politics
In the complex interplay of great power politics in South Asia, the triangular relationship between the United States, India and Pakistan reveals a story. It is one about enduring strategic necessity as much as it is about the contest of political ideologies, national interests and historical legacies. United States President Donald Trump's recent lunch with Pakistan's Army Chief, Field Marshal Asim Munir — a deliberate overture laden with both symbolism and nostalgia — resurrects the ghosts of Cold War realpolitik. Mr. Trump's repeated claims, despite India's persistent denials, of having brokered a ceasefire between India and Pakistan, using trade as a lever, alongwith his high-profile interaction with the Pakistan Army chief at the White House signals an American eagerness to revert to a diplomacy of shortcuts. The Trump administration's transactional view of diplomacy, privileging deals over doctrines, has led to a turnaround in U.S.-Pakistan relations, casting a dark shadow over the delicate trust meticulously built through decades of U.S.-India counterterrorism cooperation as well as strategic convergence on China — a feat often regarded as one of the most creditable episodes of American diplomacy after the end of the Cold War. America's pronounced shift Mr. Trump's previous tenure as President was marked by an unusually blunt censure of Pakistan's notorious double-game of a Machiavellian policy of cooperating with western countries in counterterrorism, while simultaneously supporting terror outfits that serve its regional interests. This stance had struck a chord with New Delhi's unyielding approach toward terrorism, buttressing an already blooming 'natural partnership' with Washington. Yet, in the Trump administration's second tenure, a perceptible pivot has taken shape. Very early on, the Trump White House reopened channels of security assistance to Pakistan, notably authorising $397 million to sustain Islamabad's F-16 fleet – ostensibly for counter-terrorism purposes. Public acknowledgments from top American military officials, terming Pakistan as a 'phenomenal partner' together with Mr. Trump's own gestures of gratitude toward Pakistan's cooperation in counter-terror operations, reveal an unmistakable recalibration that privileges immediate strategic utility and transactional gains over previously cultivated long-term vision of bilateral relationship. By lauding Pakistan's knowledge of Iran as 'better than most', Mr. Trump has hinted at something far more combustible — that Pakistan's military could become a potential asset in navigating the volatile theatre of Iran-Israel conflict. This American shift has naturally caused concern in New Delhi as it could prove a serious impediment to India's aspirations for a principled partnership with the Trump-led White House. The U.S., the self-styled custodian of a liberal international order that India has also sought to embrace, now appears to treat Pakistan not as a terror-permissive and nuclear-armed outcaste state, but as a strategic interlocutor deserving engagement. The recalibration is supported by multiple factors: economic incentives, personal rapport with Pakistan's military leadership, and America's continuing desire to retain leverage in Afghanistan, and the broader region surrounding China. For Pakistan, it represents a critical opportunity to retrieve lost diplomatic space and rehabilitate its tainted global image, though domestic political currents inject ambiguity into Islamabad's willingness to fully embrace cooperation with Washington. India's doctrinal departure Against this backdrop, the events of late April and early May have concretised the volatility inherent in South Asia's security architecture. The devastating terror attack in Pahalgam unleashed a decisive Indian military response. India's 'Operation Sindoor' marked a doctrinal departure from the long-standing policy of strategic restraint. Prime Minister Narendra Modi's declaration of a 'new normal' has signalled a readiness to transcend previous thresholds, blending kinetic military retaliation with diplomatic campaign with the intent of isolating Pakistan globally and imposing accountability on the state apparatus that enables terrorist groups aligned against India. Mr. Modi's depiction of the ceasefire as a mere pause highlights India's broader aim to alter the calculus of Pakistan's hostility, even as Beijing's close ties with Islamabad and adversarial posture toward New Delhi amplify apprehensions of a two-front confrontation. On the other hand, Pakistan has intensified its dual-track strategy that seeks to combine military posturing with diplomatic engagement with the U.S. with the aim of reviving international attention on the Kashmir issue. The unprecedented promotion of Asim Munir to the rank of field marshal also marks a consolidation of military primacy in Pakistan's national security framework. This entrenchment of a 'hard state' doctrine, characterised by centralised military authority which remains fanatically resistant to civilian oversight, underscores Rawalpindi's determination to project unbending strength amid multiple internal and external pressures. Simultaneously, Pakistan is attempting to capitalise on its geopolitical location and diplomatic slyness to maintain its indispensability in America's current strategic calculations. Islamabad's outreach to Washington, which is reflected in trade negotiations, concessions over rare earth minerals, and innovative economic partnerships entwined with American business interests, suggests a cunning charm offensive to sustain international attention and economic lifelines. It is a strategy that perhaps recognises its own limitations in raw military power and economic scale but leverages the geographic centrality and personal diplomacy to maintain geopolitical relevance. The U.S.'s role in this volatile equation is characterised by a deliberate ambivalence that reflects the complexity of its competing priorities. Washington today seems to have become preoccupied to the point of obsession with tariff and trade, implying that India's role in the Indo-Pacific attracts proportionately less attention than in the past, even though the Quad Foreign Ministers held their meeting in Washington on July 1. New Delhi's persistent rejection of any third-party mediation in Kashmir underscores its determination to keep its core security issues tightly within its own sovereign domain. On the contrary, a Beijing-aligned Pakistan is desperate to embrace American engagement, perceiving it as a means to keep Kashmir from fading into diplomatic obscurity and to counterbalance India's manoeuvring space. However, any American effort to 'hyphenate' New Delhi and Islamabad would run counter to India's vision of itself as a rising global power, while undermining bipartisan consensus to deepen ties with the U.S. What drives Pakistan's relevance Pakistan's continued relevance in American foreign policy seems to be driven by immutable facts of geography as well as carefully honed craft of personal diplomacy, giving its military leadership an inflated sense of purpose and power. Situated at the crossroads of South Asia, Central and West Asia, and bordering Iran, Afghanistan and China, there are certain quarters in Washington prone to the view that Pakistan is an indispensable linchpin to America's regional strategy, particularly in Afghanistan and Iran where its logistical and intelligence roles are still critical. This geographic leverage likely magnifies Pakistan's diplomatic voice in Washington, reinforcing a perception in Rawalpindi that it could help Pakistan counter India's superior economic and demographic credentials. Personal rapport in diplomatic corridors often translates into material and political support, ensuring Pakistan's endurance as a contradictory, yet 'phenomenal' partner. As enduring strategic sympathy for India becomes hostage to the shifting sands of personality-driven politics in the U.S., and the 'friend' in the U.S.-Pakistan frenemy dynamic gaining the upper hand, a geopolitically conscious Washington must walk a delicate tightrope. Each party seeks to instrumentalise the U.S. to its own ends, while American policy oscillates between idealism, realism and transactionalism. Vinay Kaura is Assistant Professor in the Department of International Affairs and Security Studies at the Sardar Patel University of Police, Security and Criminal Justice, Rajasthan, and Non-Resident Fellow, Institute of South Asian Studies, National University of Singapore
Euractiv
2 days ago
- Business
- Euractiv
Crumbling ‘House of Lars' threatens Germany‘s coalition stability
BERLIN – The red bricks in the foundation of Germany's governing coalition are showing cracks. The centre-left Social Democrats (SPD), Chancellor Friedrich Merz's junior coalition partner, have emerged ailing and damaged after a fractious party conference over the weekend. At the heart of the drama lies the leadership of Vice-Chancellor and Finance Minister Lars Klingbeil, who got a stern rebuke from delegates. Klingbeil was re-elected as chair – but with just 64.1% of the vote among delegates, despite running uncontested. That was a historically bad showing, which raised doubts about Klingbeil's ability to keep the party on board with the pragmatist coalition deal he struck with Merz's Christian Democrats, just as he is facing the crucial test of passing his first budget. The centrist coalition enjoys little margin for error in parliament, with just 13 MPs more than a bare majority. Its shakiness was on display early on when Merz was rejected for the chancellorship on the first ballot. Growing discontent among SPD backbenchers could make it difficult to deliver majorities on contentious issues, as some coalition officials have previously told Euractiv that the coalition has to put extra attention on rallying support for key parliamentary votes. Failing upwards Klingbeil acknowledged after Friday's SPD leadership vote that he had "got it in the neck' in what was the most significant blow to his leadership and possibly a comeuppance for an audacious power grab. He had become the party's undisputed frontman after the German elections in February, when the SPD went down with its worst national election result more than 150 years – despite being then dubbed 'the architect of failure'. His rise is reportedly jokingly referred to as the "House of Lars" by some within the party, referencing the television show about a Machiavellian politician in pursuit of power. Then-Chancellor Olaf Scholz took the brunt of the blame, while Klingbeil grabbed the SPD's parliamentary leadership post on election night. Instead of stepping down as party co-chair, he went on to sideline rivals and seize control of the coalition negotiations, where he secured top posts as finance minister and vice-chancellor for himself. Along the way, he purged a number of prominent figures, particularly from the party's left wing. Among those forced aside were Klingbeil's unpopular former co-chair Saskia Esken, ex-parliamentary leader Rolf Mützenich, and a pair of prominent SPD ministers from the Scholz government, Hubertus Heil and Svenja Schulze. A party divided That is bound to have left plenty in the party bitter at being shoved aside – with ideological objections to the new course Klingbeil is charting also playing a role. Klingbeil, along with Defence Minister Boris Pistorius, represents a marked shift toward the centre for the party – and a sidelining of the party's left wing. Pistorius has championed German rearmament and strongly backed further military support for Ukraine in its fight against the Russian invasion. The SPD was once known for supporting rapprochement with Russia, and some older MPs still support that view. There also remains a strong pacifist contingent on the party's left, and the party's youth wing managed to pass a motion opposing mandatory military service, something Pistorius wants to bring back. A group of over 100 party affiliates put out a policy paper just two weeks before the conference, sharply criticising higher defence spending as "irrational" and calling for Germany to "re-enter a dialogue" with Moscow. Signers included newly outcast Mützenich. Klingbeil has also stretched the tolerance of some in the left's rank-and-file by tacitly accepting Merz's tougher migration policy, which includes controversial unilateral border controls. A fractious coalition partner? The SPD is no stranger to compromise and pragmatism. After all, the party has been part of Germany's governing coalition nearly uninterruptedly since 1998. Experts, however, believe that the vote indicates that Klingbeil is still facing a significant challenge. Benjamin Höhne, a political scientist at the Chemnitz University of Technology, said that Merz's Christian Democrats 'will surely view the reliability of the SPD with some trepidation after this party conference'. The vote showed that 'this party is not as controllable as it sometimes was in the past,' Wolfgang Schroeder, a political scientist at the Berlin Social Science Center research institute, told broadcaster n-tv . This comes as Klingbeil soon faces another key test in passing his first budget as finance minister. The budget contains record debt, mostly earmarked for bringing Germany's defence spending to 3.5% of GDP. Höhne believes that a significant part of the frustration at the SPD conference was directed at Klingbeil's ruthless power grab, that would not be front and centre during the budget vote. But the conference vote was 'a sign that Klingbeil needs to talk more with all wings of the party and cannot simply dictate his course top down', he said. (bts, jp)
