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So Alexei Navalny’s death warrant did, after all, bear the signature of Vladimir Putin. Doctors at the Charité hospital in Berlin have confirmed that the Russian opposition leader was

poisoned with Novichok. He almost certainly ingested the nerve agent in a cup of tea he was served while in a Siberian airport. Novichok is a chemical weapon produced in Russian military

facilities. Its use in an assassination could only have been authorised at the highest level of the Kremlin.   The tone of Angela Merkel’s statement spoke volumes: a Chancellor normally

given to understatement could barely control her fury. It was clear, she said that “Alexei Navalny is the victim of a crime. He was supposed to be silenced… Of course, it raises questions

that only the Russian government can answer. And it will have to answer them.” Readers of _TheArticle_ will not be surprised by the findings of the German authorities. As we wrote here at

the time Navalny was flown to Berlin, all the evidence pointed to the Kremlin’s culpability. There are many similarities between this case and the Novichok attack on Salisbury, but also with

the murder of Alexander Litvenenko in 2006, who was poisoned by a drink laced with radioactive Polonium in a London hotel. Navalny is still in a coma and the Charité doctors say that they

“cannot exclude long-term damage from this severe poisoning.” Even if he makes a full recovery, it would be suicidal for him to return to Russia. This hitherto indomitable dissident may well

have to spend many years in exile. The history of poison has a certain grim fascination, but this is not the place to rehearse it. Russia today is reminiscent of John Webster’s depiction of

Renaissance Italy in _The Duchess of Malfi, _which uses poison both as a plot device and as a metaphor for Machiavellian intrigues and corruption: _ A prince’s court _ _ Is like a common

fountain whence should flow _ _ Pure silver drops in general; but if’t chance _ _ Some cursed example poison’t near the head, _ _ Death and diseases through the whole land spread. _ _   _

The peculiar horror of poison as a method of settling political scores is memorably captured by the Ghost in _Hamlet, _who recounts his own murder by his brother, Hamlet’s uncle: _ Sleeping

within my orchard, _ _ My custom always of the afternoon, _ _ Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole, _ _ With juice of cursed hebanon in a vial, _ _ And in the porches of my ear did pour _ _

The leprous distilment; whose effect _ _ Holds such an enmity with blood of man _ _ That swift as quicksilver it courses through _ _ The natural gates and alleys of the body. _ _ And with a

sudden vigour doth posset _ _ And curd, like eager droppings into milk, _ _ The thin and wholesome blood: so did it mine; _ _ And a most instant tetter bark’d about, _ _ Most lazar-like,

with vile and loathsome crust, _ _ All my smooth body. _ _   _ The effects of Novichok are said to be agonising. This is one reason why victims are kept in an artificial coma until the body

has had a chance to regenerate its ability to control the muscles. But too little is known about its neurological impact for any long-term prognosis to be reliable. Can anything be done to

bring those responsible for Navalny’s poisoning — above all the man who ordered it — to justice? Because the assassination was carried out on Russian soil, it is difficult for both practical

and jurisdictional reasons to bring the case before a court in Germany. But chemical weapons, including Novichok, are banned by international law under the 1993 Chemical Weapons Convention,

to which the Russian Federation is a signatory. A head of state who orders a violation of the convention is in principle liable to prosecution at the International Criminal Court (ICC) at

The Hague.   Such a prosecution would be particularly appropriate in Putin’s case because there is such a clear pattern of criminal behaviour. A warrant for his arrest could be issued by a

prosecutor at the ICC, despite the fact that the Russian President withdrew his country four years ago from the process of ratification of the Rome Statute which set up the court. He did so

after the ICC ruled that the Russian annexation of Crimea was an “ongoing occupation”. The jurisdiction of the ICC is universal and, once issued, a warrant would override the immunity

normally granted to heads of state while in office. But for such a process even to begin, political impetus is required. That can only come from the West, but it cannot be from the United

States, which has also refused to ratify the Rome Statute. This time, the buck stops in Europe. Boris Johnson and Angela Merkel share a new bond: both Britain and Germany have now been

directly affected by the curse of Novichok. Unlike the Prime Minister, the German Chancellor speaks fluent Russian and has got to know Putin personally quite well over the last two decades.

It would be a good first step for the two leaders to discuss their options, together with their law officers and experts on Russia. The mere fact that two governments made it clear that they

were serious about bringing Putin to justice would concentrate minds in the Kremlin — and one mastermind in particular. How else are we to protect ourselves against a man so intoxicated

with power that he evidently believes himself entitled to murder anyone who stands in his way? If Putin can assassinate with impunity, who is really safe?