Airport groundstaff walk past Malaysia Airlines planes parked on the tarmac at the Kuala Lumpur International Airport in Sepang on June 17, 2014. Photo: Getty Images
Show Hide image

Malaysia Airlines passenger jet crashes in eastern Ukraine

Airliner crashes with 298 people on board.

This story has been updated - see below.

A Boeing-777 jetliner with 295 people on board has crashed in eastern Ukraine near the village of Grabovo, near the border with Russia, according to Reuters. Eyewitnesses in the area claim that it was shot down by a ground-to-air missile, but as of yet this is unconfirmed.

The flight, Malaysia Airlines 17, was five hours into a journey from Amsterdam to Kuala Lumpur. Russian news agency Interfax broke the news, which was later confirmed by other sources, including a Reuters journalist on the ground who has reported "burning wreckage and bodies on the ground". Despite the claims that the plane was shot down, nobody has come forward to take responsibility. 

The Ukrainian government has said that its military did not fire at the plane, while blaming "terrorists" and pro-Russian separatists. The president of Malaysia, Mohd Najib Tun Razak, has said that an investigation has been opened into the incident. Russia president Vladimir Putin and US president Barack Obama were reportedly in the middle of a phone conversation when news of the crash emerged.

Other airlines have reported that their planes will avoid the airspace over eastern Ukraine. This is the second incident involving a Malaysia Airlines flight this year, after the disappearance of Flight MF370 in March.

UPDATE [18/07/2014 - 10:55am]: The airline has clarified that there were 298 passengers on MH17. Three small infants were not included in the original count.

A full passenger list has not been released yet, but it is understood that 173 Dutch nationals, 27 Australians, 44 Malaysians, 12 Indonesians and nine Britons were on the flight, with 15 of the Malaysian nationals making up the flight's crew. More than a hundred of those on board were heading to Australia for the 20th International Aids in Melbourne, Australia - the global HIV/Aids research and prevention community is in shock and mourning.

The plane crashed in territory currently held by pro-Russian separatists from the self-declared Donetsk People's Republic, and there are unconfirmed reports that one of its militia groups has recovered a black box recorder from the crash site and intends to hand it over to Moscow for analysis. An official Ukrainian government rescue group has recovered the other black box from another part of the site. The separatists have issued a statement via the Organisation for Security and Co-operation in Europe to say they will "close off the site of the catastrophe and allow local authorities to start preparations for the recovery of bodies", and provide access to and cooperation with national and international investigation teams.

Both the separatists and the Ukrainian government have blamed each other for shooting down MH17. The Ukrainian authorities have released what it claims is intercepted telephone conversations between separatist militia leaders and soldiers discussing shooting down a plane in the area and at the time that MH17 crashed. 

Ian Steadman is a staff science and technology writer at the New Statesman. He is on Twitter as @iansteadman.

Getty
Show Hide image

How Donald Trump is slouching towards the Republican nomination

There was supposed to be a ceiling above which Trump’s popular support could not climb.

In America, you can judge a crowd by its merchandise. Outside the Connecticut Convention Centre in Hartford, frail old men and brawny moms are selling “your Trump 45 football jerseys”, “your hats”, “your campaign buttons”. But the hottest item is a T-shirt bearing the slogan “Hillary sucks . . . but not like Monica!” and, on the back: “Trump that bitch!” Inside, beyond the checkpoint manned by the Transportation Security Administration and the secret service (“Good!” the man next to me says, when he sees the agents), is a family whose three kids, two of them girls, are wearing the Monica shirt.

Other people are content with the shirts they arrived in (“Waterboarding – baptising terrorists with freedom” and “If you don’t BLEED red, white and blue, take your bitch ass home!”). There are 80 chairs penned off for the elderly but everyone else is standing: guys in motorcycle and military gear, their arms folded; aspiring deal-makers, suited, on cellphones; giggling high-school fatsos, dressed fresh from the couch, grabbing M&M’s and Doritos from the movie-theatre-style concession stands. So many baseball hats; deep, bellicose chants of “Build the wall!” and “USA!”. (And, to the same rhythm, “Don-ald J!”)

A grizzled man in camouflage pants and combat boots, whose T-shirt – “Connecticut Militia III%” – confirms him as a member of the “patriot” movement, is talking to a zealous young girl in a short skirt, who came in dancing to “Uptown Girl”.

“Yeah, we were there for Operation American Spring,” he says. “Louis Farrakhan’s rally of hate . . .”

“And you’re a veteran?” she asks. “Thank you so much!”

Three hours will pass. A retired US marine will take the rostrum to growl, “God bless America – hoo-rah!”; “Uptown Girl” will play many more times (much like his speeches, Donald J’s playlist consists of a few items, repeated endlessly), before Trump finally looms in and asks the crowd: “Is this the greatest place on Earth?”

There was supposed to be a ceiling above which Trump’s popular support could not climb. Only a minority within a minority of Americans, it was assumed, could possibly be stupid enough to think a Trump presidency was a good idea. He won New Hampshire and South Carolina with over 30 per cent of the Republican vote, then took almost 46 per cent in Nevada. When he cleaned up on Super Tuesday in March, he was just shy of 50 per cent in Massachusetts; a week later, he took 47 per cent of the votes in Mississippi.

His rivals, who are useless individually, were meant to co-operate with each other and the national party to deny him the nomination. But Trump won four out of the five key states being contested on “Super-Duper Tuesday” on 15 March. Then, as talk turned to persuading and co-opting his delegates behind the scenes, Trump won New York with 60 per cent.

Now, the campaign is trying to present Trump as more “presidential”. According to his new manager, Paul Manafort, this requires him to appear in “more formal settings” – without, of course, diluting “the unique magic of Trump”. But whether or not he can resist denouncing the GOP and the “corrupt” primary system, and alluding to violence if he is baulked at at the convention, the new Trump will be much the same as the old.

Back in Hartford: “The Republicans wanna play cute with us, right? If I don’t make it, you’re gonna have millions of people that don’t vote for a Republican. They’re not gonna vote at all,” says Trump. “Hopefully that’s all, OK? Hopefully that’s all, but they’re very, very angry.”

This anger, which can supposedly be turned on anyone who gets in the way, has mainly been vented, so far, on the protesters who disrupt Trump’s rallies. “We’re not gonna be the dummies that lose all of our jobs now. We’re gonna be the smart ones. Oh, do you have one over there? There’s one of the dummies . . .”

There is a frenzied fluttering of Trump placards, off to his right. “Get ’em out! . . . Don’t hurt ’em – see how nice I am? . . . They really impede freedom of speech and it’s a disgrace. But the good news is, folks, it won’t be long. We’re just not taking it and it won’t be long.”

It is their removal by police, at Trump’s ostentatious behest, that causes the disruption, rather than the scarcely audible protesters. He seems to realise this, suddenly: “We should just let ’em . . . I’ll talk right over them, there’s no problem!” But it’s impossible to leave the protesters where they are, because it would not be safe. His crowd is too vicious.

Exit Trump, after exactly half an hour, inclusive of the many interruptions. His people seem uplifted but, out on the street, they are ambushed by a large counter-demonstration, with a booming drum and warlike banners and standards (“Black Lives Matter”; an image of the Virgin of Guadalupe, holding aloft Trump’s severed head). Here is the rest of the world, the real American world: young people, beautiful people, more female than male, every shade of skin colour. “F*** Donald Trump!” they chant.

After a horrified split-second, the Trump crowd, massively more numerous, rallies with “USA!” and – perplexingly, since one of the main themes of the speech it has just heard was the lack of jobs in Connecticut – “Get a job!” The two sides then mingle, unobstructed by police. Slanging matches break out that seem in every instance to humiliate the Trump supporter. “Go to college!” one demands. “Man, I am in college, I’m doin’ lovely!”

There is no violence, only this: some black boys are dancing, with liquid moves, to the sound of the drum. Four young Trump guys counter by stripping to their waists and jouncing around madly, their skin greenish-yellow under the street lights, screaming about the building of the wall. There was no alcohol inside; they’re drunk on whatever it is – the elixir of fascism, the unique magic of Trump. It’s a hyper but not at all happy drunk.

As with every other moment of the Trump campaign so far, it would have been merely some grade of the cringeworthy – the embarrassing, the revolting, the pitiful – were Trump not slouching closer and closer, with each of these moments, to his nomination. 

This article first appeared in the 28 April 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The new fascism