When the People's Republic begins its once-per-decade power handoff tomorrow, here's where to find clues as to the country's future.
Now that the U.S. election is behind us, time to turn to the next most important political transition in years: the Chinese Communist Party's 18th Congress. Seventeen congresses have gone by and hardly anyone has paid much attention, including most Chinese themselves. This time is a little different.
Beyond the usual pageantry and effusive praise of the CCP record since the time of Chairman Mao, surrounding this congress is a great deal of intrigue. For starters, consider the characters in the drama, which has become ripe for the kind of meme-worthy moments that marked the American election. Will Premier Wen Jiabao unexpectedly stray from his script and make a spirited denial of his family wealth? (What is your effective tax rate, premier?) Will we play a drinking game for every time Hu Jintao says "scientific development" or "harmonious society" during his speech? Will Bo Xilai photo-bomb the entire show? Will there be a sartorial rogue that dares to stride onstage in a silver suit and yellow tie? (I hear Zhang Dejiang's got quite the wardrobe).
Silliness aside, this question will be most important of all: what will be at stake for China's political and economic future?
If we're looking for compelling answers, we likely won't find them in Chinese rhetoric. American politicians tell stories; Chinese politicians wade through turgid theoretical treatises. The stilted and robotic nature of Chinese political discourse stands in stark contrast to President Obama's soaring speeches. But for the CCP and Chinese in general, politics and language are so deeply linked that understanding political rhetoric is crucial.
Take this excerpt of a speech I translated that was given by the outgoing president, Hu Jintao, in July this year. Dubbed the "7.23" speech for the day it aired, it is now getting prime real estate on the official 18th party congress coverage sites, implying its significance in shaping the backbone of Hu's legacy. In it, the terms "unwaveringly" appears three times and has since been turned into a political neologism along the lines of "three unwavers". For students of Chinese modern history, this follows in the footsteps of the "two whatevers" of Hua Guofeng, the once-designated successor to Mao Zedong. It was a formulation meant to defend the path Mao laid out for China, even after his death. As history would have it, Mao lost and Deng Xiaoping won. Hu said:
Socialism with Chinese characteristics is the banner of contemporary China's progress, and is also the banner under which a united Communist Party and nation strive for. We must unwaveringly maintain socialism with Chinese characteristics, based on the important thought guidance of Deng Xiaoping theory and Three Represents and the thorough implementation of the Scientific Development Concept. We must firmly grasp our work and the urgency of execution, so that over the next five years, we can decisively plant the foundations for realizing our objective of comprehensively building a moderately well-off society by 2020; and that by mid-century, we will have fully achieved socialist modernization.
We must unwaveringly walk the correct path that has long been paved by the Communist Party and Chinese people through practical experience, no matter the fear of risks and no matter the temptation to stray. Thought liberalization remains the ultimate powerful intellectual weapon that promotes the party's and the people's unfinished enterprise. Reform and opening up has always been, and continues to be, the powerful driving force for the development of the party and Chinese people. We must unwaveringly push forward reform and opening up, never becoming rigid, never stagnant. Unite all strength that can be united, muster all positive factors that can be mustered, and brim with confidence to overcome all challenges and risks in the road ahead.
May Confucius bless you, and bless the People's Republic of China.
Okay, so I made up the closing sentence, but the rest is authentic Chinese-politics speak. There will be seven more days of this, and I am ready. You should be too.
The political event formally begins on November 8 and is expected to last about a week, at which time the main event will take place: the official unveiling of China's new leaders. Over the course of the week, I will be providing regular updates on the congress, so keep an eye on this space.
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.
19 Kids and Counting built its reputation on preaching family values, but the mass-media platforms that made the family famous might also be their undoing.
On Thursday, news broke that Josh Duggar, the oldest son of the Duggar family's 19 children, had, as a teenager, allegedly molested five underage girls. Four of them, allegedly, were his sisters.
The information came to light because, in 2006—two years before 17 Kids and Counting first aired on TLC, and thus two years before the Duggars became reality-TV celebrities—the family recorded an appearance on TheOprah Winfrey Show. Before the taping, an anonymous source sent an email to Harpo warning the production company Josh’s alleged molestation. Harpo forwarded the email to authorities, triggering a police investigation (the Oprah appearance never aired). The news was reported this week by In Touch Weekly—after the magazine filed a Freedom of Information Act request to see the police report on the case—and then confirmed by the Duggars in a statement posted on Facebook.
New research confirms what they say about nice guys.
Smile at the customer. Bake cookies for your colleagues. Sing your subordinates’ praises. Share credit. Listen. Empathize. Don’t drive the last dollar out of a deal. Leave the last doughnut for someone else.
Sneer at the customer. Keep your colleagues on edge. Claim credit. Speak first. Put your feet on the table. Withhold approval. Instill fear. Interrupt. Ask for more. And by all means, take that last doughnut. You deserve it.
Follow one of those paths, the success literature tells us, and you’ll go far. Follow the other, and you’ll die powerless and broke. The only question is, which is which?
Of all the issues that preoccupy the modern mind—Nature or nurture? Is there life in outer space? Why can’t America field a decent soccer team?—it’s hard to think of one that has attracted so much water-cooler philosophizing yet so little scientific inquiry. Does it pay to be nice? Or is there an advantage to being a jerk?
In an interview, the U.S. president ties his legacy to a pact with Tehran, argues ISIS is not winning, warns Saudi Arabia not to pursue a nuclear-weapons program, and anguishes about Israel.
On Tuesday afternoon, as President Obama was bringing an occasionally contentious but often illuminating hour-long conversation about the Middle East to an end, I brought up a persistent worry. “A majority of American Jews want to support the Iran deal,” I said, “but a lot of people are anxiety-ridden about this, as am I.” Like many Jews—and also, by the way, many non-Jews—I believe that it is prudent to keep nuclear weapons out of the hands of anti-Semitic regimes. Obama, who earlier in the discussion had explicitly labeled the supreme leader of Iran, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, an anti-Semite, responded with an argument I had not heard him make before.
“Look, 20 years from now, I’m still going to be around, God willing. If Iran has a nuclear weapon, it’s my name on this,” he said, referring to the apparently almost-finished nuclear agreement between Iran and a group of world powers led by the United States. “I think it’s fair to say that in addition to our profound national-security interests, I have a personal interest in locking this down.”
The Islamic State is no mere collection of psychopaths. It is a religious group with carefully considered beliefs, among them that it is a key agent of the coming apocalypse. Here’s what that means for its strategy—and for how to stop it.
What is the Islamic State?
Where did it come from, and what are its intentions? The simplicity of these questions can be deceiving, and few Western leaders seem to know the answers. In December, The New York Times published confidential comments by Major General Michael K. Nagata, the Special Operations commander for the United States in the Middle East, admitting that he had hardly begun figuring out the Islamic State’s appeal. “We have not defeated the idea,” he said. “We do not even understand the idea.” In the past year, President Obama has referred to the Islamic State, variously, as “not Islamic” and as al-Qaeda’s “jayvee team,” statements that reflected confusion about the group, and may have contributed to significant strategic errors.
Every time you shrug, you don’t need to Google, then copy, then paste.
Updated, 2:20 p.m.
All hail ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.
In its 11 strokes, the symbol encapsulates what it’s like to be an individual on the Internet. With raised arms and a half-turned smile, it exudes the melancholia, the malaise, the acceptance, and (finally) the embrace of knowing that something’s wrong on the Internet and you can’t do anything about it.
As Kyle Chayka writes in a new history of the symbol at The Awl, the meaning of the “the shruggie” is always two, if not three- or four-, fold. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ represents nihilism, “bemused resignation,” and “a Zen-like tool to accept the chaos of universe.” It is Sisyphus in unicode. I use it at least 10 times a day.
For a long time, however, I used it with some difficulty. Unlike better-known emoticons like :) or ;), ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ borrows characters from the Japanese syllabary called katakana. That makes it a kaomoji, a Japanese emoticon; it also makes it, on Western alphabetical keyboards at least, very hard to type. But then I found a solution, and it saves me having to google “smiley sideways shrug” every time I want to quickly rail at the world’s inherent lack of meaning.
In any case, people have probably heard the phrase in reference to something gone awry at work or in life. In either setting, when the shit does hit the fan, people will tend to look to the most competent person in the room to take over.
And too bad for that person. A new paper by a team of researchers from Duke University, University of Georgia, and University of Colorado looks at not only how extremely competent people are treated by their co-workers and peers, but how those people feel when, at crucial moments, everyone turns to them. They find that responsible employees are not terribly pleased about this dynamic either.
A new report highlights 100 restaurant salads that are supposedly worse than a Big Mac. But why do people order grease-laden items when they want health food?
Let’s be honest for a second: Salad is usually not the most delicious thing on a menu. Salad—not the highfalutin, ramps-and-pine-nuts kind, but the patriotic, iceberg-lettuce-and-a-petrified-tomato-wedge kind—is the food you order when you’re at a place where you’re expected to be eating food (chain restaurants, broadly), but it’s a time of year when you should not really be eating the food they serve there (the seemingly 10-month annual timespan known as “swimsuit season”). Salad is a necessity, a type of proto-Soylent. In its purest form, it says, “I’m taking care of a basic bodily need, but it’s just crunchy water!” Salad, at its best, feels like a strategically good choice without being truly satisfying to the soul, like dating someone who’s not that smart, but has a beach-adjacent timeshare.
Why agriculture may someday take place in towers, not fields
A couple of Octobers ago, I found myself standing on a 5,000-acre cotton crop in the outskirts of Lubbock, Texas, shoulder-to-shoulder with a third-generation cotton farmer. He swept his arm across the flat, brown horizon of his field, which was at that moment being plowed by an industrial-sized picker—a toothy machine as tall as a house and operated by one man. The picker’s yields were being dropped into a giant pod to be delivered late that night to the local gin. And far beneath our feet, the Ogallala aquifer dwindled away at its frighteningly swift pace. When asked about this, the farmer spoke of reverse osmosis—the process of desalinating water—which he seemed to put his faith in, and which kept him unafraid of famine and permanent drought.
A scholar’s analysis of American culture presumes too much.
Last week, Gawkerinterviewed Robin DiAngelo, a professor of multicultural education at Westfield State University. She discussed aspects of her thinking on whiteness, which are set forth at length in her book, What Does it Mean to be White? I’ve ordered the book.
Meanwhile, her remarks on police brutality piqued my interest. Some of what Professor DiAngelo said is grounded in solid empirical evidence: blacks and Hispanics are disproportionately victimized by misbehaving police officers; there are neighborhoods where police help maintain racial and class boundaries. And if our culture, which she calls “the water we swim in,” contained fewer parts racism per million, I suspect that police brutality would be less common.