The United States has passed the point where its people can "be leaders by doing any one dramatic thing," said former secretary of state Henry Kissinger Thursday. But while "it's hard not to admit that we are in a strategic contraction," he commented, referring at Iraq and Afghanistan, "... we can be leaders by our performance now."
Speaking specifically about China at the Washington Ideas Forum, Kissinger characterized the developing U.S.-China relationship as "different from the Cold War situation," since in the Cold War the Soviet Union "depended on the reach of its military capacities. The Chinese approach to foreign policy," he argued, "is not based primarily on military plans," and American foreign policy leaders would do well to realize this. "I believe it is in the best interests of both countries to see whether it is possible to develop a cooperative approach in the face of a challenge which we can both define," he said.
That is not to say, Kissinger was quick to add, that he is "optimistic." Meeting the challenge "requires both sides," he emphasized. Furthermore, "we have serious domestic issues we must deal with, and if the United States is not a dynamic country we cannot rectify the situation."
Yet it would be a mistake, he argued, to make the modern story of the U.S. and China "about who will win against the other. Because that will get us into a situation that has analogies to prior to World War I where self-fulfilling prophecies produced a conflict that I don't think either side would have entered if they knew what the consequences would be at the end of it."
The key, he suggested, is to "distinguish between what is part of the design and what is part of the inherent strategic situation"--in other words, to recognize in our perception of China's position that there is a difference between what the country is actively trying to do and the natural dynamics involved in its economic rise. In addition, he pointed to the lingering effects of the one-child family and the Cultural Revolution, commenting, "it's wrong to think that China has no problems domestically to deal with and that they can uniquely conduct foreign policy without any constraints."
Asked by The Atlantic's Steve Clemons whether he had moved away from realism in his latest book, Kissinger dryly denied any "public conversion."
"How do you define reality?" Kissinger asked. "I believe and have not changed my philosophy that for foreign policy you need a correct assessment of the principal elements that are shaping the perception of nations of each other, their sense of security--that you have to understand that the international system has an element of equilibrium because otherwise the strong have no restraint ... but conditions have changed fundamentally."
Long after research contradicts common medical practices, patients continue to demand them and physicians continue to deliver. The result is an epidemic of unnecessary and unhelpful treatments.
First, listen to the story with the happy ending: At 61, the executive was in excellent health. His blood pressure was a bit high, but everything else looked good, and he exercised regularly. Then he had a scare. He went for a brisk post-lunch walk on a cool winter day, and his chest began to hurt. Back inside his office, he sat down, and the pain disappeared as quickly as it had come.
That night, he thought more about it: middle-aged man, high blood pressure, stressful job, chest discomfort. The next day, he went to a local emergency department. Doctors determined that the man had not suffered a heart attack and that the electrical activity of his heart was completely normal. All signs suggested that the executive had stable angina—chest pain that occurs when the heart muscle is getting less blood-borne oxygen than it needs, often because an artery is partially blocked.
Larry Taunton's new book says more about its author than about the man he claims as a friend.
Even Christopher Hitchens’s detractors would concede him two great qualities: honesty and bravery. Hitchens spoke the truth as he understood the truth, without regard to whom he might please and whom he might offend. What Hitchens wrote of his intellectual hero, George Orwell, was the epitaph he would have wished for himself:
By his determination to seek elusive but verifiable truth, he showed how much can be accomplished by an individual who unites the qualities of intellectual honesty and moral courage.
Yet this is the epitaph that a new book about Hitchens seeks to deny him. Larry Taunton is an evangelical publicist and promoter who became friendly with Hitchens during the writer’s final three years of life. Earlier this spring, Taunton published a new book that alleged that Hitchens was not as committed to his atheism as Hitchens publicly insisted—that, indeed, Hitchens had approached the verge of a Christian conversion.
The best scientific argument we have for the innateness of straightness is that evolution would favor it. But a poll of sexologists raises some interesting questions about arousal.
Time for a thought experiment: Are straight people born that way? When I put the question to a number of sexology colleagues, they thought it a good question -- indeed, a hard question.
To answer it, we have to start with a more fundamental question: What do we mean when we say someone is "straight"? At the most basic level, we seem to be imagining female bodies that are specifically sexually aroused by male bodies, and vice versa.
Laboratory studies such as those conducted by Michael Bailey of Northwestern University and Meredith Chivers of Queens University suggest that, while such people probably do exist -- at least in North America, where many sexologists have focused their attentions -- it's not uncommon for straight-identified people to be at least a little aroused by the idea of same-sex relations.
Nearly half of Americans would have trouble finding $400 to pay for an emergency. I’m one of them.
Since 2013,the Federal Reserve Board has conducted a survey to “monitor the financial and economic status of American consumers.” Most of the data in the latest survey, frankly, are less than earth-shattering: 49 percent of part-time workers would prefer to work more hours at their current wage; 29 percent of Americans expect to earn a higher income in the coming year; 43 percent of homeowners who have owned their home for at least a year believe its value has increased. But the answer to one question was astonishing. The Fed asked respondents how they would pay for a $400 emergency. The answer: 47 percent of respondents said that either they would cover the expense by borrowing or selling something, or they would not be able to come up with the $400 at all. Four hundred dollars! Who knew?
A conversation with Nikole Hannah-Jones about race, education, and hypocrisy.
Public schools in gentrifying neighborhoods seem on the cusp of becoming truly diverse, as historically underserved neighborhoods fill up with younger, whiter families. But the schools remain stubbornly segregated. Nikole Hannah-Jones has chronicled this phenomenon around the country, and seen it firsthand in her neighborhood in Brooklyn.
“White communities want neighborhood schools if their neighborhood school is white,” she says. “If their neighborhood school is black, they want choice.” Charter schools and magnet schools spring up in place of neighborhood schools, where white students can be in the majority.
“We have a system where white people control the outcomes, and the outcome that most white Americans want is segregation,” she says.
With Hindu nationalism ascendant, what does the future hold for India’s first family and its pluralist legacy?
In 1994, Sonia Gandhi published a book of photographs from her private life with her late husband, Rajiv Gandhi. It included a dozen pictures from their trips to Italy, where she had grown up in the suburbs of Turin. Here she was in a speedboat in 1980, wearing crimson-framed sunglasses and a matched paisley shawl. Here was their son Rahul, just seven or eight years old, on a beach pushing goggles off his face into his hair.
What made the book, titled Rajiv’s World, so unusual then was the photographer: Rajiv Gandhi, the former prime minister of India killed in a suicide bombing. What makes the book unusual today is how much it shares of the interior life of Sonia herself—before she transcended her origins to become India’s most powerful politician.
Don't make a scene. Look the other way. Social discomfort has long been used to maintain the status quo.
“Young women say yes to sex they don’t actually want to have all of the time. Why? Because we condition young women to feel guilty if they change their mind.”
That was the writer Ella Dawson, in her essay reacting to “Cat Person,” the New Yorker short story that went viral, and indeed that is still going viral, this week. Kristen Roupenian’s work of fiction resonated among denizens of the nonfictional world in part because of its sex scene: one that explores, in rich and wincing detail, the complications of consent. Margot, a 20-year-old college student, goes on a date with Robert, a man several years her senior; alternately enchanted by him and repulsed by him, hopeful about him and disappointed, she ultimately sleeps with him. Not because she fully wants to, in the end, but because, in the dull heat of the moment, acquiescing is easier—less dramatic, less disruptive, less awkward—than saying no.
Content moderators review the the dark side of the internet. They don’t escape unscathed.
Lurking inside every website or app that relies on “user-generated content”—so, Facebook, YouTube, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, among others—there is a hidden kind of labor, without which these sites would not be viable businesses. Content moderation was once generally a volunteer activity, something people took on because they were embedded in communities that they wanted to maintain.
But as social media grew up, so did moderation. It became what the University of California, Los Angeles, scholar Sarah T. Roberts calls, “commercial content moderation,” a form of paid labor that requires people to review posts—pictures, videos, text—very quickly and at scale.
Roberts has been studying the labor of content moderation for most of a decade, ever since she saw a newspaper clipping about a small company in the Midwest that took on outsourced moderation work.
Kalaupapa, Hawaii, is a former leprosy colony that’s still home to several of the people who were exiled there through the 1960s. Once they all pass away, the federal government wants to open up the isolated peninsula to tourism. But at what cost?
Not so long ago, people in Hawaii who were diagnosed with leprosy were exiled to an isolated peninsula attached to one of the tiniest and least-populated islands. Details on the history of the colony—known as Kalaupapa—for leprosy patients are murky: Fewer than 1,000 of the tombstones that span across the village’s various cemeteries are marked, many of them having succumbed to weather damage or invasive vegetation. A few have been nearly devoured by trees. But records suggest that at least 8,000 individuals were forcibly removed from their families and relocated to Kalaupapa over a century starting in the 1860s. Almost all of them were Native Hawaiian.
Sixteen of those patients, ages 73 to 92, are still alive. They include six who remain in Kalaupapa voluntarily as full-time residents, even though the quarantine was lifted in 1969—a decade after Hawaii became a state and more than two decades after drugs were developed to treat leprosy, today known as Hansen’s disease. The experience of being exiled was traumatic, as was the heartbreak of abandonment, for both the patients themselves and their family members. Kalaupapa is secluded by towering, treacherous sea cliffs from the rest of Molokai—an island with zero traffic lights that takes pride in its rural seclusion—and accessing it to this day remains difficult. Tourists typically arrive via mule. So why didn’t every remaining patient embrace the new freedom? Why didn’t everyone reconnect with loved ones and revel in the conveniences of civilization? Many of Kalaupapa’s patients forged paradoxical bonds with their isolated world. Many couldn’t bear to leave it. It was “the counterintuitive twinning of loneliness and community,” wrote The New York Times in 2008. “All that dying and all of that living.”
They could certainly afford to donate bigger sums, but something seems to be holding them back.
The rising wealth of the top tier of earners seems to be inaugurating a new age of charitable giving. More than 150 billionaires from around the world have now signed Bill and Melinda Gates’ Giving Pledge, promising to donate at least half of their fortunes to charity. Others give money to hospitals, parks, or schools, renaming them in the process; in New York City, Lincoln Center’s Avery Fisher Hall is now known as David Geffen Hall, while the historic 42nd Street library is called the Steven A. Schwarzman Building.
Such grand philanthropic donations are visible and public-facing, but they distract from a broader pattern in charitable giving: As a group, the wealthy do donate more money overall, but as a proportion of earnings, many of them give less than those with far less wealth. The Philanthropy Roundtable, an organization of philanthropic groups, has found that while households with annual earnings of less than $50,000 were less likely to donate any money to charity than those earning more than that, if they did donate, they gave a greater percentage of their income than those wealthier than them. A survey by The Chronicle of Philanthropy released in 2014 reached a similar finding: Those earning $200,000 or more per year reduced their giving during the Great Recession and its aftermath by 4.6 percent, while those bringing home less than $100,000 upped their donations by very nearly as much—4.5 percent, to be specific.