How far will China to go to protect an increasingly belligerent North Korea?
North Korean leader Kim Jong-un delivers a New Years address in Pyongyang (KCNA KCNA/Reuters)
In considering the security situation in Northeast Asia, it's sometimes useful to imagine the region's players as schoolboys playing in a courtyard. North Korea, bellicose and unpredictable, misbehaves and threatens the others. An outraged Japan, South Korea, and the United States then turn to China and say, "Well? He's your friend!"
Since the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991, China has had the dubious distinction of being North Korea's only ally and friend on the world stage, a relationship that has occasionally caused a great deal of discomfort. In essence, Beijing's support consists of both economic assistance -- in the form of both direct aid and trade -- and diplomatic protection. To continue our schoolyard analogy, China not only shields its ally from the others -- it also pays for North Korea's lunch.
To the United States and its allies in the region, this arrangement is less than satisfactory. It's no secret that Washington would like to see the eventual reunification of Korea under a pro-Western government in Seoul, and views Beijing as the primary obstacle to realizing this goal. A recent report by U.S. Senate Republican staff members -- mentioned in an article by The Guardian on Tuesday -- went so far as to say that China may block the reunification of North and South Korea should it appear to be imminent.
The rationale for this position is simple and purely strategic: China does not wish to have a unified, dynamic Korea with tens of thousands of American troops sitting right on its northeastern border. For all of its hassles, North Korea is a valuable buffer, one that Beijing would be loath to see fall apart. Americans might think of China's support for a divided Korea as anachronistic, immoral, and wrong. But in the great game of Northeast Asia power politics, this position makes perfect sense.
All that aside, evidence is thin that China would, if pressed, stand in the way of reunification. First, there are the words of the Chinese themselves: leaked cables published by Wikileaks in 2010 quoted a Chinese ambassador as saying that the country hopes for a reunification in the long term, though not, pointedly, in the short term.
Secondly, China has recently appeared less tolerant of its neighbor's persistent nuclear brinkmanship than before. Beijing's support for United Nations Security Council Resolution 2087, which authorizes the UN to expand sanctions on North Korea following last month's rocket launch, did not amuse Pyongyang. In announcing today that it would conduct another nuclear test, North Korea cited its bitter disappointment with China's vote.
Finally, while a unified Korea may present a security challenge on China's periphery, Sino-South Korea economic ties are strong and getting stronger. North Korea's 24.5 million people would be far more useful to China's traders if they were integrated into the South's dynamic, growing economy rather than languishing in their own broken-down system.
Why, then, does China continue to prop up its unpopular friend? The answer is less ideological than practical -- Beijing understands that the sudden collapse of the North Korean state would result in a huge influx of refugees over its border, presenting severe logistical and humanitarian challenges. The Chinese Communist Party has enough trouble helping its own poor make ends meet -- the last thing it needs is to care for North Korea's destitute as well.
China's historical ties to North Korea still have some meaning, but it would be a mistake to assume that these ties are what drives Beijing's approach to its neighbor. The Chinese government does not love the Kim family and will not shed a tear once it goes. But the timing has to be right. Ultimately, like the last remaining friend of unpopular bullies worldwide, Beijing knows that it'll have to pick up the pieces if anything goes wrong.
To date, more than 50 women have accused Bill Cosby of sexual misconduct. Constand was the first. In January of 2005 she told police that a year earlier, Cosby had touched and penetrated her after drugging her. A prosecutor decided against proceeding with the case, and Constand followed up with a civil suit that resulted in a 2006 settlement. After that came an accelerating drip of women making allegations about incidents spanning a wide swath of Cosby’s career, from Kristina Ruehli (1965) to Chloe Goins (2008).
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Two years ago, a 7-year-old girl named Charlotte wrote a letter to the toymaker Lego with a straightforward request.
“I love Legos,” she wrote, “but I don’t like that there are more lego boy people and barely any lego girls.” The girls in the Lego universe, Charlotte had noticed, seemed preoccupied with sitting at home, going to the beach, and shopping—while the boys had jobs, saved people, and went on adventures.
Charlotte, Lego acknowledged, had a point. “It’s fair,” said Michael McNally, a Lego spokesman who says the company receives letters from kids all the time. “Why wouldn’t there be more female representation?”
Years before Charlotte sent her letter, Lego was already keenly focused on how girls perceived the brand. It was 2008 when the toymaker decided to gather global data about who buys Legos. What they found was startling. In the United States, roughly 90 percent of Lego sets being sold were intended for boys. In other words, there was a huge untapped market of girls who weren’t building with Legos.
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Ever since Ramsay Bolton revealed himself as Westeros’s villain-in-chief, Game of Thrones fans have wanted him dead. He first appeared in season two disguised as a Northern ally sent to help Theon Greyjoy but quickly turned out to be a lunatic whose appetite for cruelty only grew as the series progressed. (Last year, Atlantic readers voted him the actual worst character on television.) After several colorful and nauseating years of rape, torture, murder, and bad visual puns, speculation about the Bolton bastard’s looming death has reached its peak this sixth season. But “Will Ramsay die this season?” also gives way to a slightly more complicated question: “How should Ramsay die?”
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In his book, Goetzmann, a professor of finance and the director of the International Center for Finance at the Yale School of Management, has documented how financial innovations—from the invention of money to capital markets—have always played a critical role in developing every culture around the world. In the fallout from the Great Recession, it’s been commonplace to vilify those working in the financial-services industry. But Goetzmann argues that finance is a worthwhile endeavor, beyond just earning a ton of money: Its innovations have made the growth of human civilization possible.
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In 2006, Donald Trump made plans to purchase the Menie Estate, near Aberdeen, Scotland, aiming to convert the dunes and grassland into a luxury golf resort. He and the estate’s owner, Tom Griffin, sat down to discuss the transaction at the Cock & Bull restaurant. Griffin recalls that Trump was a hard-nosed negotiator, reluctant to give in on even the tiniest details. But, as Michael D’Antonio writes in his recent biography of Trump, Never Enough, Griffin’s most vivid recollection of the evening pertains to the theatrics. It was as if the golden-haired guest sitting across the table were an actor playing a part on the London stage.
“It was Donald Trump playing Donald Trump,” Griffin observed. There was something unreal about it.
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The truth, as many American teachers know firsthand, is that low-income children can be harder to educate than children from more-comfortable backgrounds. Educators often struggle to motivate them, to calm them down, to connect with them. This doesn’t mean they’re impossible to teach, of course; plenty of kids who grow up in poverty are thriving in the classroom. But two decades of national attention have done little or nothing to close the achievement gap between poor students and their better-off peers.
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The difference in 2016, of course, is Hillary Clinton’s position in the drama. She played the spoiler eight years ago, refusing to concede to Barack Obama in a primary that dragged into June, to the consternation of party elders. (They were nervously eyeing John McCain, who had pluckily sewn up his nomination by late February). But this year, she is the candidate ascendant, impatient to wrap up this whole Bernie Sanders business and take on Donald Trump.
LBJ led crucial legislation in 1965, changing the demographics of the U.S. But it offers a difficult model for future presidents to follow.
Nearly every new American president of the modern era has viewed the nation’s immigration policies as deeply flawed. Yet few of these modern executives have been willing to make immigration reform—one of the most dangerous issues in American politics—central to their agenda. Even fewer have had a measure of success doing so. Even the most dramatic and successful of all—Lyndon Johnson’s landmark 1965 reform—came with high political costs and uneven results. Yet, Johnson’s battle for reform underscores the way immigration policy can be a potent political tool and offers a model for future presidents.
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Start in the weeks after birth, with equal leave for parents of any gender.
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These were just a few of the things mothers responded when asked how they divide household responsibility in their family. I’d posed the question because I was writing a book about what moms can do to keep their careers on track during pregnancy and parenthood, and I wanted to incorporate some tactical advice. Millions of women want a partner who is an equal partner. What can they do to get one?
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