THE WINTER storm that gripped Texas this week has left more than 20 dead and millions without electricity. Single extreme-weather events cannot be attributed to climate change. But their increased frequency can be. Republican politicians have blamed reliance on wind energy for Texas’s power failure. Wrong. Yes, turbines froze. But demand surged. The supply of electricity generated from gas, half the total, failed. So did a nuclear plant. Texas lacks capacity and connections to other states. America needs much more, not less, green energy and more reliable infrastructure. (Indeed, as Bill Gates argues in a book published this week, the whole world does, fast.) President Joe Biden says he wants the world’s second-largest emitter to be carbon-neutral by 2050. This week he rejoined the Paris climate agreement. He will soon present climate plans to Congress. But they will require a lot of investment and face political opposition. And time is short.
Financial markets have made a frenzied start to 2021, and not just because the S&P 500 index has been setting records. This week bitcoin burst through the $50,000 barrier and a congressional committee grilled some of those involved in the GameStop spike. And another mania has taken hold. Special purpose acquisition vehicles (SPACs)—publicly listed pots of capital raised by investors who seek private firms to merge with—have attracted $120bn in the past 12 months. This year they have drawn in as much as in the first six months of 2020. Their backers range from private-equity firms to sports stars. Silicon Valley firms are keen on SPACs as an alternative route to public markets. Yet, though there is a whiff of the bubble about them, they can be useful, and may become familiar.
Britain’s death toll from covid-19, as a share of the population, has been one of the rich world’s highest. But the speed of its vaccination programme—more than 20% of Britons have had a first jab—seems to be having a beneficial effect. Since they peaked on January 22nd, deaths have fallen by 59% among over-80s, who were inoculated first, and by 51% among under-70s. Yet in China, which has had far more success in suppressing the virus, only 3% of people have been vaccinated. People are keen to be jabbed. But officials seem reluctant to roll out mass vaccinations, possibly because there may not yet be enough doses and vials to go around. And success in suppression may also have dampened a sense of urgency.
On February 13th Mario Draghi was sworn in as the head of Italy’s 68th government in 75 years. Having another technocrat in charge is scarcely ideal (Italians have not chosen their prime minister since 2008). The economy has been blighted by the pandemic and was ropey before it. But there is a bullish case for Mr Draghi. The former president of the European Central Bank has so far been welcomed by both the markets and (polls suggest) the public. His coalition government will be charged with spending Italy’s €200bn ($240bn) share of an EU covid-19 recovery programme. His tenure will probably be short. But if Super Mario can make a success of the recovery fund, it will be not only good for Italy, but good for Europe, too.
Since 2013 French soldiers—now numbering more than 5,000—have been fighting a counter-terrorist war in Burkina Faso, Mali and Niger. More than 6,000 people died in jihadist-related violence last year and nearly 2m have fled their homes. Though the French have hammered fighters from Islamic State in the Greater Sahara, other militias, linked to al-Qaeda, are proving more resilient. This week France’s president, Emmanuel Macron, told the region’s governments that he would not draw down troops yet—but nor would his country fight a “forever war” in the Sahel. The region’s governments will have to bear more of the burden. That means not just improving militarily but also cutting out graft and human-rights abuses (last year government soldiers killed more civilians than jihadists did). And France may have to accept that the Sahel’s governments enter peace talks with the jihadists.