Taken during the 2013 G8 summit in Lough Erne, Northern Ireland, I find this photo telling.

Seven of the eight, leaders of the so-called ‘free world’, appear to be walking brazenly forward, sharing private jokes among each other, smug inside their sense of elite exclusivity.

The eighth, a diminutive man with a false self-effacing smile fixed on his face, seems to have been largely ignored. He has fallen a step behind the group. You can barely make him out in the picture. Though he is trying not to show it, he is uneasy in their presence.

And they know it. Of course they would. They are the ones who are making him feel like he doesn’t belong.

No one seems to take any notice of the man, looking as he does – like the poor second cousin at the family reunion. It seems as though if he did have anything to say, it wouldn’t matter to them. In their arrogance, the seven vanity soaked leaders fail to hear his whispered words,” I’ll show them.”

And boy, did he show them. Exactly a year later, 80 armored vehicles drove across the border into Crimea. Sitting in them were heavily armed men, all of them with the fearsome Fist-AK47-Star logo of the Spetsnaz tattooed on their muscled upper arms. In a further two years this man has virtually battered and bludgeoned his way through the Middle East.

No matter how exclusive the G8 club thinks it is, perhaps it is yet to learn that history is made, not from successes, but from errors.