If you weren't hibernating recently, you probably saw that China surpassed Japan to become the #2 economy in the world. Many smart people have already weighed in on China having passed this psychological threshold (see here, here, and here). Consensus opinion seems to boil down to "not so fast, let's put this development in context." As someone who follows China daily, I tend to be partial to that view as well. In fact, this "milestone" came and went with a whimper for me. Barring utter catastrophe, it was always a matter of when, not if, China would become #2--and most economists were expecting some time this year. And yes, it will probably eventually exceed the United States in total output. I've seen one projection from a Chinese official that puts the Chinese economy at RMB105 trillion yuan in 2030 (hypothetically assuming the RMB appreciates to a level of 3:1 against the dollar by then, that would put the Chinese economy at about $35 trillion, about 2.5 times current US GDP).
Yet this fait accompli is a mixed blessing for China. And I could've predicted their official response. To illustrate, the ever dependable China Daily supplies a graphical answer:
The focus on per capita GDP (in case you miss it, it's highlighted in red!)--that's roughly on par with Albania for those curious--is a typical Chinese response. Of course it's not very useful to compare Albania to China from an economic perspective, but you get the point and the Chinese government's argument. Beijing's reaction to this news, then, may be one of reluctant embrace or even worse. In fact, the story vanished from China Daily's homepage quickly. This is a similar defense that China uses on issues ranging from energy consumption to carbon emissions--it's the per capita figure that really matters, and don't forget we're a developing country, not OECD! That line of defense worked better when China was perceived as relatively poor, but a significant perceptual shift has occurred, and being #2 simply reinforces that shift. This makes it that much more difficult for Beijing to convince the world with its "developing country" line of reasoning. Yes, yes, China will still have 1 billion relatively poor people even if it has 300 million relatively wealthy and middle-class. To most others, however, 300 million is the size of the entire US.
That is truly the heart of China's conundrum. It is simultaneously extremely poor and ostentatiously rich, depending on the evidence that's selected for emphasis. Which country will China put forward to face the future? It is afraid of assuming outsized responsibility that comes with greater power, or what I call the "Spider Man complex" ("with great power comes great responsibility, Peter"). And just as Spider Man, China too gripes about being misunderstood and occasionally being cast as a villain rather than a hero (ok, that's enough indulgence of comic book analogies).
An economic juggernaut China will continue to be, but it also seems clear that its economic performance of the last three decades will be much tougher to replicate without pursuing a set of structural changes to the economy. There's no inevitable trajectory for China, but it has time and again harnessed crises and sufficiently identified turning points to rejuvenate the economy. Without rehashing what many have written at length about China's challenges, I think it's worth to pose what I think are some of the questions that China will have to answer as #2:
1. Can China manage to transform itself from a producer-oriented economy to one driven more by organic, domestic consumption--or what economists call "rebalancing"? If not, would it just muddle through and eventually become a Japan that's beset by a dose of complacency, as Fallows recently found by returning to his former suburban home outside of Tokyo.
2. Can China address the energy, environmental, and social/demographic burdens that are necessary to propel growth? Much of this could hinge on what China has in store for the next five-year plan through 2015. Some of the Chinese commentariat have repeatedly invoked FDR's New Deal in arguing for the kind of social policies that are necessary to sustain China's growth and heal social cleavages.
3. Will China actually practice what its leaders preach on relying more on qualitative, rather than quantitative, growth?
1. Will China offer a more compelling answer to what kind of power it intends to become?
2. How will China handle the collective external pressures--from climate change to participation in international institutions and provision of public goods--that will almost certainly grow in intensity because it is #2?
3. How will China reconcile the mismatch in outside perceptions of it and what it feels it is realistically capable of?
I think we'd all like some definitive answers to those questions. If you've got some, let me know.
Damien Ma is a fellow at the Paulson Institute, where he focuses on investment and policy programs, and on the Institute's research and think-tank activities. Previously, he was a lead China analyst at Eurasia Group, a political risk research and advisory firm.
Thicker ink, fewer smudges, and more strained hands: an Object Lesson
Recently, Bic launched acampaign to “save handwriting.” Named “Fight for Your Write,” it includes a pledge to “encourage the act of handwriting” in the pledge-taker’s home and community, and emphasizes putting more of the company’s ballpoints into classrooms.
As a teacher, I couldn’t help but wonder how anyone could think there’s a shortage. I find ballpoint pens all over the place: on classroom floors, behind desks. Dozens of castaways collect in cups on every teacher’s desk. They’re so ubiquitous that the word “ballpoint” is rarely used; they’re just “pens.” But despite its popularity, the ballpoint pen is relatively new in the history of handwriting, and its influence on popular handwriting is more complicated than the Bic campaign would imply.
In the name of emotional well-being, college students are increasingly demanding protection from words and ideas they don’t like. Here’s why that’s disastrous for education—and mental health.
Something strange is happening at America’s colleges and universities. A movement is arising, undirected and driven largely by students, to scrub campuses clean of words, ideas, and subjects that might cause discomfort or give offense. Last December, Jeannie Suk wrote in an online article for The New Yorker about law students asking her fellow professors at Harvard not to teach rape law—or, in one case, even use the word violate (as in “that violates the law”) lest it cause students distress. In February, Laura Kipnis, a professor at Northwestern University, wrote an essay in The Chronicle of Higher Education describing a new campus politics of sexual paranoia—and was then subjected to a long investigation after students who were offended by the article and by a tweet she’d sent filed Title IX complaints against her. In June, a professor protecting himself with a pseudonym wrote an essay for Vox describing how gingerly he now has to teach. “I’m a Liberal Professor, and My Liberal Students Terrify Me,” the headline said. A number of popular comedians, including Chris Rock, have stopped performing on college campuses (see Caitlin Flanagan’s article in this month’s issue). Jerry Seinfeld and Bill Maher have publicly condemned the oversensitivity of college students, saying too many of them can’t take a joke.
The new drama series, which follows the Colombian kingpin’s rise to power, feels more like a well-researched documentary than the gripping saga it wants to be.
Netflix’s new series Narcos is possibly arriving at the wrong time: The doldrums of summer aren’t really the ideal moment for a narratively dense, documentary-like look at the rise and fall of the Colombian drug kingpin Pablo Escobar. Narrated in voiceover by DEA Agent Steve Murphy (Boyd Holbrook), the early hours of Narcos feel like a history lesson, though an visually sumptuous one.
As Netflix continues to expand its streaming empire, it’s making a concerted effort to appeal to worldwide audiences, and Narcos fits neatly into that plan, alongside last year’s expensive critical flop Marco Polo. Narcos was shot on location in Colombia and stars the acclaimed Brazilian actor Wagner Moura as Escobar. It takes full advantage of its setting, loaded with sweeping helicopter shots of the Colombian jungle where Escobar founded his cocaine empire, filling a power vacuum left by various political upheavals in late-’70s South America.
The billionaire’s campaign is alienating the fastest-growing demographic in American politics—and the talk-radio right treats damage control as heresy.
With Marco Rubio and Jeb Bush running for president, many Republicans hoped 2016 would be the year when the GOP won its biggest ever share of the Hispanic vote. Now Donald Trump is the frontrunner. And if he hangs on to win the nomination, the GOP will almost certainly do worse among Hispanic voters than ever before. Earlier this week, Gallup released an extraordinary poll about how Hispanics view the Republican candidates. Jeb Bush is easily the most popular. Ted Cruz is least popular among the traditional choices. Nearly everyone else fits in between them in a range so narrow that the 5 percent margin of error could scramble their order.
But not Trump, who is wildly, staggeringly unpopular among Hispanics:
Grasses—green, neatly trimmed, symbols of civic virtue—shaped the national landscape. They have now outlived their purpose.
The hashtag #droughtshaming—which primarily exists, as its name suggests, to publicly decry people who have failed to do their part to conserve water during California’s latest drought—has claimed many victims. Anonymous lawn-waterers. Anonymous sidewalk-washers. The city of Beverly Hills. The tag’s most high-profile shamee thus far, however, has been the actor Tom Selleck. Who was sued earlier this summer by Ventura County’s Calleguas Municipal Water District for the alleged theft of hydrant water, supposedly used to nourish his 60-acre ranch. Which includes, this being California, an avocado farm, and also an expansive lawn.
The case was settled out of court on terms that remain undisclosed, and everyone has since moved on with their lives. What’s remarkable about the whole thing, though—well, besides the fact that Magnum P.I. has apparently become, in his semi-retirement, a gentleman farmer—is how much of a shift all the Selleck-shaming represents, as a civic impulse. For much of American history, the healthy lawn—green, lush, neatly shorn—has been a symbol not just of prosperity, individual and communal, but of something deeper: shared ideals, collective responsibility, the assorted conveniences of conformity. Lawns, originally designed to connect homes even as they enforced the distance between them, are shared domestic spaces. They are also socially regulated spaces. “When smiling lawns and tasteful cottages begin to embellish a country,” Andrew Jackson Downing, one of the fathers of American landscaping, put it, “we know that order and culture are established.”
The Republican frontrunner has offered Bush the perfect chance to display some passion—but he’s declined to take it.
Donald Trump has gotten a boost in his efforts to maul Jeb Bush in recent days from an unexpected source: Jeb Bush himself.
Trump’s attack on Jeb isn’t mostly about issues. As with most things Trump, it’s mostly about persona. The Donald thinks Jeb is a dud. “He’s a man that doesn’t want to be doing what he’s doing,” Trump said in June. “I call him the reluctant warrior, and warrior’s probably not a good word. I think Bush is an unhappy person. I don’t think he has any energy.”
Over the last week, Jeb has proven Trump right. Trump, and his supporters, continue to demonize Mexican American illegal immigrants. On Tuesday, Trump threw the most popular Spanish-language broadcaster in America out of a press conference. That same day, Ann Coulter warmed up for Trump in Iowa by offering gruesome details of murders by Mexican “illegals,” and suggesting that once Trump builds his wall along America’s southern border, tourists can come watch the “live drone shows.”
An afternoon spent with the famous gorilla who knows sign language, and the scientist who taught her how to “talk”
One of the first words that Koko used to describe herself was Queen. The gorilla was only a few years old when she first made the gesture—sweeping a paw diagonally across her chest as if tracing a royal sash.
“It was a sign we almost never used!” Koko’s head-caretaker Francine Patterson laughed. “Koko understands that she’s special because of all the attention she's had from professors, and caregivers, and the media.”
The cause of the primate’s celebrity is her extraordinary aptitude for language. Over the past 43 years, since Patterson began teaching Koko at the age of 1, the gorilla has learned more than 1,000 words of modified American Sign Language—a vocabulary comparable to that of a 3-year-old human child. While there have been many attempts to teach human languages to animals, none have been more successful than Patterson’s achievement with Koko.
The social network once aspired to be a “global town square.” Is that goal still attainable?
In the summer of 2013, Dick Costolo, the CEO of Twitter, reflected on his vision of the company as a “global town square.” The social network is “all public, real-time conversational, and widely distributed, and public is the first word in there,” he told an audience at the Brookings Institution.
Thousands of years ago, he added, the Greek Agora was “where you went to find out what was going on and talk about it, right? You came and talked about what was going on in your part of the village, and I came and talked about what was going on in mine, and the politician was there, and we listened to the issues of the day, and a musician was there and a preacher was there, etcetera, and it was multidirectional and it was unfiltered, and it was inside out, meaning the news was coming from the people it was happening to, not some observer. And, you know, along comes the printing press, and then radio, and then television, etcetera, etcetera, and all of these advances in technology are in service to removing the friction of distance and time in distributing the information. So we get to the point, ultimately, with CNN World Wide News, that you’ve completely eliminated the friction of time and distance, and then along comes a service like Twitter that has the elimination of time and distance built into it, but also brings back all those capabilities of the Agora. It’s inside out again, it’s coming from the participants.”
A new study shows that the field suffers from a reproducibility problem, but the extent of the issue is still hard to nail down.
No one is entirely clear on how Brian Nosek pulled it off, including Nosek himself. Over the last three years, the psychologist from the University of Virginia persuaded some 270 of his peers to channel their free time into repeating 100 published psychological experiments to see if they could get the same results a second time around. There would be no glory, no empirical eurekas, no breaking of fresh ground. Instead, this initiative—the Reproducibility Project—would be the first big systematic attempt to answer questions that have been vexing psychologists for years, if not decades. What proportion of results in their field are reliable?
Hikers on a moonlit night in Mexico, a massive ball pit in Washington, D.C., Usain Bolt taken down by a Segway in China, a squirrel monkey riding a capybara in Japan, and much more.
Hikers on a moonlit night in Mexico, Homer Simpson calls for calm at a protest in Chile, Kumbh Mela in India, a massive ball pit in Washington, D.C., Usain Bolt taken down by a Segway in China, a squirrel monkey riding a capybara in Japan, a conference of Furry enthusiasts in Germany, and much more.