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.
She lived with us for 56 years. She raised me and my siblings without pay. I was 11, a typical American kid, before I realized who she was.
The ashes filled a black plastic box about the size of a toaster. It weighed three and a half pounds. I put it in a canvas tote bag and packed it in my suitcase this past July for the transpacific flight to Manila. From there I would travel by car to a rural village. When I arrived, I would hand over all that was left of the woman who had spent 56 years as a slave in my family’s household.
The condition has long been considered untreatable. Experts can spot it in a child as young as 3 or 4. But a new clinical approach offers hope.
This is a good day, Samantha tells me: 10 on a scale of 10. We’re sitting in a conference room at the San Marcos Treatment Center, just south of Austin, Texas, a space that has witnessed countless difficult conversations between troubled children, their worried parents, and clinical therapists. But today promises unalloyed joy. Samantha’s mother is visiting from Idaho, as she does every six weeks, which means lunch off campus and an excursion to Target. The girl needs supplies: new jeans, yoga pants, nail polish.
Listen to the audio version of this article:Download the Audm app for your iPhone to listen to more titles.
At 11, Samantha is just over 5 feet tall and has wavy black hair and a steady gaze. She flashes a smile when I ask about her favorite subject (history), and grimaces when I ask about her least favorite (math). She seems poised and cheerful, a normal preteen. But when we steer into uncomfortable territory—the events that led her to this juvenile-treatment facility nearly 2,000 miles from her family—Samantha hesitates and looks down at her hands. “I wanted the whole world to myself,” she says. “So I made a whole entire book about how to hurt people.”
Bobby Moynihan, Vanessa Bayer, and Sasheer Zamata all said their goodbyes last weekend—in very different ways.
In the past, departing Saturday Night Live cast members have gotten whole sketches devoted to sending them off. Kristen Wiig was serenaded with song and dance from Mick Jagger and the rest of the crew; Bill Hader’s Stefon finally married Seth Meyers; Will Ferrell got a series of testimonials. On last weekend’s 42nd season finale, the show said goodbye to three cast members with varying tenures and legacies: Bobby Moynihan, Vanessa Bayer, and Sasheer Zamata. The first got a goodbye sketch of sorts, the second a couple of featured roles on her last night, and the third no acknowledgement at all. It was a slightly muddled end to what feels like one of SNL’s weaker eras—even as the show breaks ratings records in the age of Donald Trump.
The story was notably loud. Its retraction is notably quiet.
On Tuesday of last week, the day after TheWashington Post published its bombshell about President Trump’s Oval Office divulgences to Sergey Lavrov and Sergei Kisliyak, Sean Hannity took to the air at the Fox News Channel to discuss a murdered man named Seth Rich. Rich, a 27-year-old staffer at the Democratic National Committee, had been gunned down in Washington, DC, in July, seemingly the victim of a violent crime. Earlier that day, however, a local Fox TV station had reported—in a claim that would quickly be debunked—that Rich had ties to WikiLeaks, and that his death was, rather than the tragic result of random violence, instead evidence of a deeper conspiracy.
In the days since, that idea has leapt to life in the conservative areas of the media—an easy symbol, in the minds of many, of the “mainstream” media’s stubborn and partisan refusal to report on a story that would put the DNC in a negative light. (“Silence from Establishment Media over Seth Rich WikiLeaks Report,” Breitbartseethed.) And so, as many members of the nation’s press corps set out to further the Post’s reporting on the White House, the Rich story became a chorus-like feature on conservative-leaning media—and not just in Hannity’s extra-bombastic corner of Fox News. The Rich story hit Drudge. It exploded on social media. “NOT RUSSIA, BUT AN INSIDE JOB?” Breitbart asked, provocatively. The site added that, “if proven, the report has the potential to be one of the biggest cover-ups in American political history, dispelling the widespread claim that the Russians were behind hacks on the DNC.”
The office was, until a few decades ago, the last stronghold of fashion formality. Silicon Valley changed that.
Americans began the 20th century in bustles and bowler hats and ended it in velour sweatsuits and flannel shirts—the most radical shift in dress standards in human history. At the center of this sartorial revolution was business casual, a genre of dress that broke the last bastion of formality—office attire—to redefine the American wardrobe.
Born in Silicon Valley in the early 1980s, business casual consists of khaki pants, sensible shoes, and button-down collared shirts. By the time it was mainstream, in the 1990s, it flummoxed HR managers and employees alike. “Welcome to the confusing world of business casual,” declared a fashion writer for the Chicago Tribune in 1995. With time and some coaching, people caught on. Today, though, the term “business casual” is nearly obsolete for describing the clothing of a workforce that includes many who work from home in yoga pants, put on a clean T-shirt for a Skype meeting, and don’t always go into the office.
New Orleans Mayor Mitch Landrieu explains to his city why four monuments commemorating the Lost Cause and the Confederacy had to come down.
Last week, the City of New Orleans finished removing four monuments—to Confederate President Jefferson Davis, Generals P.G.T. Beauregard and Robert E. Lee, and the postwar battle of Liberty Place. The removals occasioned threats, protests, and celebrations. On Friday, Mayor Mitch Landrieu explained to his city why he had concluded that the monuments needed to come down.
The soul of our beloved City is deeply rooted in a history that has evolved over thousands of years; rooted in a diverse people who have been here together every step of the way—for both good and for ill.
And other tales from the intersection of science and airport security
When Martin Cohn passed through airport security at Ronald Reagan Airport, he figured that he’d probably get some questions about the 3-D-printed model of a mouse penis in his bag.
The model is 15 centimeters long, made of clear translucent plastic, and indisputably phallic— like the dismembered member of some monstrous, transparent, 11-foot rodent. One of Cohn’s colleagues had already been questioned about it when she carried it on an outward flight from Gainesville to Washington D.C. She put it through the security scanner, and the bag got pulled. A TSA official looked inside, winked at her, and let her go. She was amused but embarrassed, so Cohn offered to take the model home on the return flight.
The Senate Intelligence Committee said Tuesday it would subpoena the former national security adviser’s businesses for Russia-related documents, potentially bypassing the Fifth Amendment.
The Senate Intelligence Committee’s leaders ramped up their efforts on Tuesday to obtain Russia-related documents from former National Security Advisor Mike Flynn, telling reporters the committee is subpoenaing materials from two of Flynn’s businesses.
The announcement comes one day after Flynn informed the committee he wouldn’t comply with a previous subpoena issued to him personally, invoking his Fifth Amendment protections against compelled testimony that could be used to prosecute him. By targeting the businesses, the committee’s leaders hope to circumvent the Fifth Amendment issues at stake.
“While we disagree with General Flynn’s lawyers’ interpretation of taking the Fifth, it is even more clear that a business does not have a right to take a Fifth if it’s a corporation,” Virginia Senator Mark Warner, the committee’s ranking Democratic member, told reporters. “So those subpoenas—one has been served, one is in the process of being served. And we keep all options on the table.”
Can governments be as innovative about saving lives?
Yesterday’s terrorist attack that struck at the end of an Ariana Grande concert in Britain’s Manchester Arena—leaving 22 people dead and 59 injured, by the latest count—feels perhaps even more callous and personal than other such recent atrocities. As TheNew York Timesnoted, the target was “a concert spilling over with girls in their teens or younger, with their lives ahead of them, out for a fun night.”
For Europe, the attack, now claimed by ISIS, represents a continuation of a nightmare scenario: The pace and deadliness of terrorist attacks in the continent has reached levels unprecedented in the post-9/11 era, with the heinous and grotesque becoming frighteningly routine.
Even five years ago, specialists could count the major post-9/11 attacks in Western countries on one hand, and knew every date on which they had been perpetrated. They were known by names like 3/11 or 7/7 (references to attacks in Madrid and London, respectively).