Glenn Greenwald, the Guardian reporter who broke the NSA leaks, is photographed leaving his hotel in Hong Kong. (Vincent Yu/AP)Yesterday, an American defense contractor named Edward Snowden identified himself as the man responsible for leaking sensitive material to TheGuardian, stating unequivocally that he wanted to inform Americans of the country's vast, secretive government surveillance program. Snowden, who was based in Hawaii, has now taken up residence at a hotel in Hong Kong, a destination he chose for its "spirited connection to free speech and the right of political dissent."
In a comment about the case published this morning, my colleague James Fallows brought up a salient point about Hong Kong: it isn't a sovereign country, and remains very much a part of the People's Republic of China -- a country which notably lacks free speech or any right of political dissent. And while Hong Kong has a different currency, political structure, and legal system from the mainland, divisions between the two are actually far murkier than Snowden's explanation indicates.
In 1997, when sovereignty over Hong Kong transferred from the United Kingdom to the People's Republic of China, the two countries agreed that the status quo in the territory would remain unchanged for the next 50 years. Under the Basic Law, which went into effect the day of the handover, Beijing is responsible for Hong Kong's national defense and foreign policy, while Hong Kong retains control over basically everything else.
But in the case of Edward Snowden, which is likely to involve an extradition request by the United States, the Basic Law is less clear. Hong Kong, unlike China, has an extradition arrangement with the United States. But China has the right to intercede in an extradition request if Beijing has an interest in "defense or foreign affairs." In other words, if China wants to detain Snowden as a useful intelligence asset, Hong Kong couldn't legally do much about it. And that illustrates an important part of Hong Kong's current situation: its free speech and political dissent really only go as far as Beijing lets it.
So what's going to happen to Snowden?
Hong Kong nearly always cooperates with the United States on extradition requests, and has signaled that it intends to do so in Snowden's case, if Washington wants it. Once this happens, China can then decide to either halt Snowden's extradition and seize him as an intelligence asset, or simply stay out of the matter and let Hong Kong take care of it. The risk of the latter course of action is this: China risks losing a potentially valuable source of information about a major geopolitical competitor. But the risks of the former are greater, for two main reasons.
First, even though Snowden's revelations have embarrassed the National Security Agency (NSA) and the Obama Administration -- which has accused his leaks of being "damaging" -- it's unclear whether Snowden was senior enough to have access to truly valuable information. Beijing's intelligence apparatus probably already knows Washington uses sweeping surveillance techniques for gathering data. Why risk an international incident with the United States in order to obtain information China already has, or can find out easily?
Second, Snowden's revelations come on the heels of the recent summit between the leaders of China and the United States, an event which culminated in a pledge for friendlier relations between the two countries. By staying out of a matter that is essentially a domestic concern of the United States, China would act in this spirit as well as remain consistent with its own policy of non-interference.
Snowden has made it clear that he doesn't intend to stay in Hong Kong for the long-term; he has said he'd like to move to a country like Iceland, a place noted for its transparent government. But will Iceland offer Snowden asylum? According to University of Pennsylvania law professor Jacques deLisle, this is unlikely: countries seldom offer asylum to those who attempt to defect via a third country, and Iceland likely has reason not to anger the United States by taking in Snowden.
These possibilities aside, it's become increasingly clear that Snowden's decision to go to Hong Kong was a serious miscalculation. The idiosyncratic territory may in some ways be a libertarian paradise of free speech, robust media, and low taxes, but is in no way independent of China. If Snowden's ultimate goal were to damage the United States government as much as possible, then going to a Chinese territory would make some sense. But this obviously isn't what he wanted; in The Guardian interview, Snowden disagreed with Glenn Greenwald's characterization of China as an "enemy" of the United States by stressing the healthy trade relationship between the two countries. Aiding China -- whose record of state surveillance and abrogation of civil liberties is inarguably worse than the United States -- would go against the entire moral foundation of Snowden's decision to leak the NSA secrets.
As I mentioned in this post in late November, and in this followup, and also in a discussion with Diane Rehm on her new podcast series yesterday, Donald Trump’s lies differ from those we have encountered from other national figures, even Richard Nixon and Bill Clinton during their respective impeachments. The difference is that Trump seemingly does not care that evidence is immediately at hand to disprove what he says. If he believes what he’s saying, at least in that moment, why shouldn’t we?
For the record, the latest entry of this sort is the repeated insistence by Trump and his associates that he won a “landslide” or “major” victory. For instance, this was his transition team’s response to reports of Russian attempts to swing the election in his favor:
Should you drink more coffee? Should you take melatonin? Can you train yourself to need less sleep? A physician’s guide to sleep in a stressful age.
During residency, Iworked hospital shifts that could last 36 hours, without sleep, often without breaks of more than a few minutes. Even writing this now, it sounds to me like I’m bragging or laying claim to some fortitude of character. I can’t think of another type of self-injury that might be similarly lauded, except maybe binge drinking. Technically the shifts were 30 hours, the mandatory limit imposed by the Accreditation Council for Graduate Medical Education, but we stayed longer because people kept getting sick. Being a doctor is supposed to be about putting other people’s needs before your own. Our job was to power through.
The shifts usually felt shorter than they were, because they were so hectic. There was always a new patient in the emergency room who needed to be admitted, or a staff member on the eighth floor (which was full of late-stage terminally ill people) who needed me to fill out a death certificate. Sleep deprivation manifested as bouts of anger and despair mixed in with some euphoria, along with other sensations I’ve not had before or since. I remember once sitting with the family of a patient in critical condition, discussing an advance directive—the terms defining what the patient would want done were his heart to stop, which seemed likely to happen at any minute. Would he want to have chest compressions, electrical shocks, a breathing tube? In the middle of this, I had to look straight down at the chart in my lap, because I was laughing. This was the least funny scenario possible. I was experiencing a physical reaction unrelated to anything I knew to be happening in my mind. There is a type of seizure, called a gelastic seizure, during which the seizing person appears to be laughing—but I don’t think that was it. I think it was plain old delirium. It was mortifying, though no one seemed to notice.
A profanity-filled new self-help book argues that life is kind of terrible, so you should value your actions over your emotions.
Put down the talking stick. Stop fruitlessly seeking "closure" with your peevish co-worker. And please, don't bother telling your spouse how annoying you find their tongue-clicking habit—sometimes honesty is less like a breath of fresh air and more like a fart. That’s the argument of Michael Bennett and Sarah Bennett, the father-daughter duo behind the new self-help book F*ck Feelings.
The elder Bennett is a psychiatrist and American Psychiatric Association distinguished fellow. His daughter is a comedy writer. Together, they provide a tough-love, irreverent take on “life's impossible problems.” The crux of their approach is that life is hard and negative emotions are part of it. The key is to see your “bullshit wishes” for just what they are (bullshit), and instead to pursue real, achievable goals.
The same part of the brain that allows us to step into the shoes of others also helps us restrain ourselves.
You’ve likely seen the video before: a stream of kids, confronted with a single, alluring marshmallow. If they can resist eating it for 15 minutes, they’ll get two. Some do. Others cave almost immediately.
This “Marshmallow Test,” first conducted in the 1960s, perfectly illustrates the ongoing war between impulsivity and self-control. The kids have to tamp down their immediate desires and focus on long-term goals—an ability that correlates with their later health, wealth, and academic success, and that is supposedly controlled by the front part of the brain. But a new study by Alexander Soutschek at the University of Zurich suggests that self-control is also influenced by another brain region—and one that casts this ability in a different light.
The personality test isn't perfect, but it plays to people's desire to understand themselves and others.
A group of young adults shyly meet for the first time on the second floor of an empty Manhattan shopping mall. The stores are all closed for the weekend, and other than a man stopping in the lobby to read his phone, this group is the only sign of activity.
“I actually really like clubbing,” shares one guy.
The group goes silent.
“Get out of the circle,” a woman whispers.
Everyone in this group took the Meyers-Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI), a personality test. They all tested as the same type (one that tends to be introverted), joined an online group for others who got the same result, and decided to meet up.
Which explains why they’re meeting in an empty food court: It’s perfect for a group of people who like quietude. In this crowd of 20-something New Yorkers, the clubber is, truly, an oddball.
Members disillusioned by support for the president-elect can more easily affect change if they stay put.
In October 2000, Jimmy Carter publicly bid farewell to the Southern Baptist Convention. He said he had grown “increasingly uncomfortable” with the Baptist body’s beliefs for years, but then the denomination adopted a “rigid” and conservative statement of faith that asked wives to submit to their husbands and prohibited women from serving as pastors. That was a bridge too far for the former president.
“My grandfather, my father, and I have always been Southern Baptists, and for 21 years, since the first political division took place in the Southern Baptist Convention, I have maintained that relationship,” Carter told The Atlanta Journal-Constitution. “I feel I can no longer in good conscience do that.”
How Vladimir Putin is making the world safe for autocracy
Since the end of World War II, the most crucial underpinning of freedom in the world has been the vigor of the advanced liberal democracies and the alliances that bound them together. Through the Cold War, the key multilateral anchors were NATO, the expanding European Union, and the U.S.-Japan security alliance. With the end of the Cold War and the expansion of NATO and the EU to virtually all of Central and Eastern Europe, liberal democracy seemed ascendant and secure as never before in history.
Under the shrewd and relentless assault of a resurgent Russian authoritarian state, all of this has come under strain with a speed and scope that few in the West have fully comprehended, and that puts the future of liberal democracy in the world squarely where Vladimir Putin wants it: in doubt and on the defensive.
When you’re alone in a cabin in the Alaskan wilderness, the simplest question becomes the most complicated: How do you fill a day?
A couple of years ago, I woke to three birds circling over my body, barking. I’d been sleeping in a bivouac, a kind of raincoat for a sleeping bag, camped in the tundra of Alaska’s Kantishna Hills. I unzipped the bivouac and popped my head out, peering up as the eerie silhouetted birds swooped toward me. The moon was a low and yellow sliver in the eastern sky; clouds to the northwest stacked in electric oranges and dark purples.
The birds' bodies stretched wide, their faces were flat. I could see faint stripes on the undersides of their extended wings. One of them landed on my food canister nearby and hissed. The other two circled about fifteen feet above the ground. They rose, then dove toward me, then rose and circled once more. They kept a rhythm: every few circles, one of them plunged toward me again. They eyed me from above, barking all the while like angry watchdogs. When one came close enough to claw at me, I flung my arms overhead and screamed, “Stop! What’s wrong! Go away! Please!”
Key legislators saw their fortunes reshuffled on Election Day in ways good, bad, and ulcer-inducing.
Quack. Quack. Zoom. With visions of unified Republican rule dancing in their heads, congressional leaders in both chambers are keen to keep the lame duck session quick and painless. (House members are already fleeing town, starting the holiday recess a week early.)
Pretty much everyone could use a bit of extra time off to prepare for the new president and the vastly altered political landscape he brings. Across the Hill, Trump’s shocker of a win has revalued the stock of members on both sides of the aisle, in both chambers. Some are obvious. (Poor Nancy Pelosi.) Some less so. (What will Jason Chaffetz do without a Democratic president to torment?) As the Trump Era looms, keep one eye on these notables, who saw their fortunes reshuffled on Election Day in ways good, bad, and ulcer-inducing:
A professor of cognitive science argues that the world is nothing like the one we experience through our senses.
As we go about our daily lives, we tend to assume that our perceptions—sights, sounds, textures, tastes—are an accurate portrayal of the real world. Sure, when we stop and think about it—or when we find ourselves fooled by a perceptual illusion—we realize with a jolt that what we perceive is never the world directly, but rather our brain’s best guess at what that world is like, a kind of internal simulation of an external reality. Still, we bank on the fact that our simulation is a reasonably decent one. If it wasn’t, wouldn’t evolution have weeded us out by now? The true reality might be forever beyond our reach, but surely our senses give us at least an inkling of what it’s really like.