The Economist May 25, 2024
The Economist May 25, 2024
Politics
5月 23, 2024, 09:56 上午
America is to withdraw all its forces from Niger by September 15th, after
its negotiators failed to secure an agreement to continue counter-terrorism
operations there. Relations between the two countries have soured since a
coup overthrew Niger’s elected government last year.
https://t.me/+w49ZOrm3c4I1NmRh
A Tory wet
In pouring rain outside 10 Downing Street, Rishi Sunak, the British prime
minister, called a general election for July 4th. The Conservative Party has
been in power since 2010 but a series of mishaps have left it far behind the
opposition Labour Party in the polls. Mr Sunak, the fourth Tory to hold the
job of prime minister within five years, is gambling that he can pull off an
improbable comeback.
Moldova signed a defence and security pact with the European Union. The
country hopes to join the EU by 2030. Bordering Ukraine, it has been a
strong supporter of its neighbour’s fight against Russia and has complained
about Russian interference in its domestic politics. There is increasing
speculation that the EU will begin accession talks with Ukraine and
Moldova before the end of June.
Marine Le Pen, the leader of the French National Rally, announced that her
party was making a “clean break” from the far-right Alternative for
Germany (AfD) in the European Parliament and would no longer sit with
the party. This follows recent comments from Maximilian Krah, the AfD’s
lead candidate for the European elections, that the Nazi SS “were not all
criminals”.
Lai Ching-te was sworn in as the new president of Taiwan, the fifth
democratically elected person to hold the job. In his inauguration speech Mr
Lai called on China to “stop intimidating Taiwan politically and militarily”.
China’s government said Mr Lai’s remarks had sent “dangerous signals”.
Thousands of people protested outside Taiwan’s parliament against a
contentious series of proposals from opposition parties to curb the
president’s powers. Mr Lai’s Democratic Progressive Party lost its majority
in parliament in January’s election to the opposition Kuomintang (KMT)
and Taiwan People’s Party (TPP).
Nine people were killed at a political rally in northern Mexico when the
stage collapsed. Meanwhile the presidential candidates held their final
debate before the election on June 2nd. Claudia Sheinbaum, the leftist
ruling party’s candidate, is the front-runner.
In Haiti the new governing council said the national police force would
lead a security mission that will try to restore order after months of violence
involving gangs, who in effect control the country. Kenya is supposed to
contribute 1,000 troops to the mission. Its president, William Ruto, held
talks with Joe Biden in Washington, where they discussed Haiti.
Javier Milei’s visit to Spain upset the Socialist government. The Argentine
president spoke at a national-conservative rally, where he described the wife
of Pedro Sánchez, the prime minister, as “corrupt” (there are claims of
corruption against Begoña Gómez, but Madrid’s public prosecutor has said
there is no evidence). Mr Milei also refused to meet the king. Spain
withdrew its ambassador from Buenos Aires—permanently, it said.
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this-week/2024/05/23/politics
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Business
5月 23, 2024, 09:56 上午
The demand for chips to power artificial-intelligence services from the likes
of Meta and Microsoft helped boost Nvidia’s revenues to $26bn in the
latest quarter, a 262% increase, year on year. Net profit soared by 628% to
$14.9bn. The company promises more to come. It will soon start to ship its
new Blackwell chips, which cost more than $30,000 each.
Non-performance pay
Marks and Spencer reported a quarterly profit that exceeded forecasts and
announced its first shareholder dividend since 2019. For years the British
retailer struggled with falling sales and market scepticism about its
prospects, but in 2022 it unveiled a turnaround strategy, closing failing
stores and investing more in its popular food supermarkets.
Janet Yellen, America’s treasury secretary, defended Joe Biden’s new tariffs
on a range of Chinese imports, including duties of 100% on electric cars, as
“strategic and targeted steps”. Speaking in Frankfurt, Ms Yellen called on
the European Union to join America in curbing cheap Chinese exports in
green-tech, which she said undermine Western innovation and jobs. She
also denied that America’s huge subsidies for its green manufacturers
amounted to protectionism. The EU has so far taken a softer approach to
China, but it is expected soon to slap duties on Chinese EVs, the makers of
which receive state handouts.
Ivan Boesky died, aged 87. As one of Wall Street’s leading investors in the
1980s Mr Boesky helped fuel a takeover boom, until it all came crashing
down. He pleaded guilty to insider trading and was eventually sent to prison
in 1987. The character Gordon Gekko in Oliver Stone’s film “Wall Street”
was inspired in part by him, giving audiences the immortal strapline that
“greed is good.” Mr Boesky’s actual words, from a speech to business-
school students, were reportedly “I think greed is healthy. You can be
greedy and still feel good about yourself”. By all accounts, he was loudly
applauded.
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KAL’s cartoon
5月 23, 2024, 09:56 上午
KAL’s cartoon appears weekly in The Economist. You can see last week’s
here.
The Economist
WE HAVE two covers this week. In most of the world we consider why
baby-boosting policies won’t work. As birth rates plunge in rich countries,
many politicians are keen to pour money into policies that might lead
women to have more children. Yet all these attempts are likely to fail,
because they are built on a misapprehension. The bulk of the decline in the
fertility rate in such countries is among younger, poorer women who are
delaying when they start to have children, and who therefore have fewer
overall. Focusing on these women as a group would be bad for them and for
society. Teenage pregnancies are linked to poverty and ill health for both
mother and child. Targeted incentives would roll back decades of efforts to
curb unwanted teenage pregnancy and encourage women into study and
work. Most economies will therefore have to adapt to social change, and it
falls to governments to smooth the way.
Leaders: Why baby-boosting policies won’t work
Finance and economics: Can the rich world escape its baby crisis?
In the Middle East and Africa we concentrate on South Africa. The more or
less peaceful transition from apartheid to multiracial democracy in 1994
demonstrated what can happen when political enemies show courage and
imagination. Now, though, the question is whether the country can reverse
its decline after almost a decade of grotesque graft. In elections on May
29th voters are unlikely to throw out the African National Congress, a party
still associated by many with liberation itself. So the next five years will
test whether South Africa’s young institutions can withstand yet another
assault from predatory politicians, and whether its opposition can reinvent
itself. Despite all the difficulties, the country still has a fighting chance.
Leaders: How to save South Africa
Briefing: Next week’s election is South Africa’s most important since 1994
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Leaders
Why paying women to have more babies won’t work
Cash for kids :: Economies must adapt to baby busts instead
Doomsayers such as Elon Musk warn that these shifts threaten civilisation
itself. That is ridiculous, but they will bring profound social and economic
changes. A fertility rate of 1.6 means that, without immigration, each
generation will be a quarter smaller than the one before it. In 2000 rich
countries had 26 over-65-year-olds for every 100 people aged 25-64. By
2050 that is likely to have doubled. The worst-affected places will see even
more dramatic change. In South Korea, where the fertility rate is 0.7, the
population is projected to fall by 60% by the end of the century.
The decision to have children is a personal one and should stay that way.
But governments need to pay heed to rapid demographic shifts. Ageing and
shrinking societies will probably lose dynamism and military might. They
will certainly face a budgetary nightmare, as taxpayers struggle to finance
the pensions and health care of legions of oldies.
That is not the main story. University-educated women are indeed having
children later in life, but only a little. In America their average age at the
birth of their first child has risen from 28 in 2000 to 30 now. These women
are having roughly the same number of children as their peers did a
generation ago. This is a little below what they say is their ideal family size,
but the gap is no different from what it used to be.
Instead, the bulk of the decline in the fertility rate in rich countries is among
younger, poorer women who are delaying when they start to have children,
and who therefore have fewer overall. More than half the drop in America’s
total fertility rate since 1990 is caused by a collapse in births among women
under 19. That is partly because more of them are going to college. But
even those who leave education after high school are having children later.
In 1994 the average age of a first-time mother without a university degree
was 20. Today, about two-thirds of women without degrees in their 20s are
yet to have their first child.
What, then, can governments do? High-skilled immigration can plug fiscal
gaps, but not indefinitely, given that fertility is falling globally. Most
economies will therefore have to adapt to social change, and it falls to
governments to smooth the way. Welfare states will need rethinking: older
people will have to work later in life, for instance, to cut the burden on the
public purse. The invention and adoption of new technologies will need to
be encouraged. These could make the demographic transition easier by
unleashing economy-wide productivity growth or helping care for the old.
New household technologies may help parents, rather as dishwashers and
washing machines did in the mid-20th century. Baby-boosting policies, by
comparison, are a costly and socially retrograde mistake. ■
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wont-work
Lawfare v warfare
The gravity of the claims and the fact that some countries dispute the
legitimacy of the ICC make it essential that its prosecutor should
meticulously calibrate his accusations and follow due process. Instead Mr
Khan has pursued maximal claims against the two Israelis and short-
circuited procedure.
The Economist believes Israel has very probably breached the laws of war
by failing to meet its obligations under the Geneva Convention of 1949, to
provide food and medicine to civilians under its occupation “to the fullest
extent of the means available to it”. After October 7th several ministers also
threatened retribution and collective punishment. However, it is a leap to go
from this to asserting there is an intentional, systematic criminal scheme to
starve civilians. That is the jump Mr Khan’s allegations make, and as a
result they are both more serious and contestable.
The charges against the Hamas bosses and the Israelis are formally separate,
but Mr Khan has chosen to wrap them up in a single package. His request
for warrants against Hamas could have come soon after October 7th, but he
delayed for nearly eight months. He argues that his actions show how all
five men are equal before the law. But bundling them together also signals
that democratically elected leaders whose state has been attacked belong in
the company of terrorists.
The best explanation for Mr Khan’s approach is that he believes that, for
international law to be seen as more than a tool of the West, he had to be
seen to intervene and be willing to prosecute both sides. But even if the
judges issue warrants, they are unlikely to try the cases, because all five
men are beyond the reach of ICC signatories.
At some level, the ICC works by consensus, which means it must navigate
international politics. Support for it around the world is already fragile.
America, China and India are not parties; Russia withdrew in 2016 and
wants to discredit it, because President Vladimir Putin has been indicted.
Now America has said it has no confidence in this latest, flawed, request for
warrants. President Joe Biden called it “outrageous” and Antony Blinken,
secretary of state, said he will consider imposing sanctions on the court.
There are silver linings. Mr Sinwar and Mr Haniyeh may be excluded from
a future Palestinian state’s government, which would probably be a
signatory to the ICC. Although a divided Israel has united around Mr
Netanyahu, which does not help peace today, the episode may eventually
weaken him, because it shows his disastrous strategy has unnecessarily
exposed the country to ignominy and legal risk. A change of Israel’s
government is essential to reset the war and open a path to peace. It is
politics and diplomacy, not courts, that are the key to curbing violence and
reviving two-state talks. ■
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leaders-of-israel-and-hamas-is-flawed
Security alert
Much like the internet, SS7 was built on the basis of trust, not security. That
was reasonable when the protocol was introduced and only a few telecoms
companies could access it. Today, many thousands of such firms can do so,
the vast majority of them private. The complexity of the networks has also
increased. Handsets roam from the jurisdiction of one provider to another,
requiring a handover. Text messages are routinely used for vital
transactions: think of the SMS authentication codes in global banking. And
providers in one country can use SS7 to connect to others—the Emirati
attack in 2018 appears to have involved the Channel Islands, lightly
regulated British territories, as well as America, Cameroon, Israel and Laos.
Short of using burner phones and donning a tinfoil hat, ordinary people
cannot completely escape the dangers of SS7. One sensible step would be to
routinely use end-to-end encrypted messaging apps like iMessage, Signal or
WhatsApp for texts and calls. Companies could ensure that codes for two-
factor authentication come via an app, rather than SMS text messages,
which can be easily intercepted. However, because phones still have to
connect to mobile-network towers, these precautions cannot conceal where
a caller is.
When they vote on May 29th, they should throw out a party that has proved
unable to govern. But that seems unlikely. Many voters still associate the
ANC with liberation itself. So the next five years will test whether South
Africa’s young institutions can withstand yet another assault from predatory
politicians, and whether its opposition can reinvent itself. Despite all the
difficulties, South Africa still has a fighting chance.
The ANC’s popularity has been steadily declining. Polls suggest it will win
less than 50% of the vote for the first time and thus need to form a coalition.
The best option for South Africa would be for the ANC to work with the
Democratic Alliance (DA), a moderate, liberal party that governs well at a
local level. But that, too, is unlikely unless a disastrous result forces its
hand. Instead the ANC could reunite with its extremist offshoots, the
Economic Freedom Fighters (EFF) and uMkhonto weSizwe (MK), parties
that would want to nationalise land, banks and mines, and which sometimes
sound as if they hate every white person save Vladimir Putin. Alternatively
it could cling to power with a slim majority, or in a coalition with a minor
outfit.
Hopes that the ANC might reform itself have repeatedly been dashed. When
Cyril Ramaphosa, one of the negotiators who helped end apartheid, became
president in 2018, he pledged a “new dawn” after almost a decade of
grotesque graft, known as “state capture”, under his predecessor, Jacob
Zuma. The Economist urged South Africans to vote for the ANC the next
year, reasoning that a strong mandate would empower Mr Ramaphosa to
clean up his own party. He deserves some credit for a few reforms, and for
bolstering a justice system subverted by Mr Zuma. But Mr Ramaphosa
failed because, ultimately, he put party unity above the national interest. He
has pussyfooted around party figures alleged to be corrupt, many of whom
are standing for re-election. Power has become so lucrative that people kill
to become local ANC candidates. Since 2022 almost 100 people have died
in political assassinations.
The consequences of all this have been dire. Mr Ramaphosa has mostly
indulged his party’s failed statist and racially biased approach to the
economy. On average, the unemployment rate has risen by about half a
percentage point annually since 1994, to 33%, and is the highest in the
world. GDP per person is lower than it was 15 years ago. Policies that, in
effect, force companies to give stakes to black-owned firms have deterred
foreign investors. Private investment as a share of GDP is a third of what it
was in 2008. A bid by BHP, an Australian mining giant, for its London-
based rival, Anglo American—minus its South African mines—shows that
foreign investors have a dismal view of the country. The World Bank
reckons that crime reduces GDP by at least 10%. The ANC has put tariff-
free access to America at risk by allying itself with autocrats in Russia and
Iran.
After the election the ANC will start looking for a successor to Mr
Ramaphosa, who cannot serve as president beyond 2029 and will step down
as party leader before then. But that offers little cause for optimism. The
next generation of ANC leaders will feel pressure to copy the racial
nationalism and populism espoused by the EFF and MK. Recent legislation
shows which way things are going. In March parliament approved a bill to
allow land expropriation without compensation in the national interest. On
May 15th the president approved a law that promises national health care,
with no clear way to pay for it, and dramatic restrictions on private health
insurance.
If the ANC remains in power, how can South Africa protect itself?
Fortunately, it has a feisty press, a vibrant civil society and unbowed judges.
Their importance was emphasised on May 20th when the Constitutional
Court barred Mr Zuma, who now leads MK, from running for parliament,
owing to a criminal conviction in 2021. Honourable people in the ANC
must defend the rule of law, as some did at great personal cost during Mr
Zuma’s presidency. NGOs and activists will have to keep fighting for clean
party funding and independent prosecutors.
If the economy and institutions can weather the coming storm, the election
in 2029 offers a chance for change and renewal. There is no shortage of
ideas for how to fix South Africa. Jobs are scarce partly because labour
laws make it expensive to hire and hard to fire anyone. Lowering the cost of
transport—which can be equivalent to more than half of low-wage workers’
net pay—would make getting a job more attractive. Granting title deeds to
the millions who lack property rights would offer them dignity and assets.
Paying private chains to run failing state schools would help the 80% of
ten-year-olds who cannot understand what they read.
Yet saving South Africa is not just about clever policies; it is also about
winning elections. The moderate opposition parties need a new vision as
bold as that of 1994. They must explain how growth helps people more than
a zero-sum fight over a stagnant economy, and demonstrate that better
government in opposition-run regions benefits everyone who lives there.
Above all they must ensure that they appeal to the black majority. If South
Africa wants to inspire the world again, it must show that a failing
democracy can redeem itself. ■
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INDIA HAS long been seen as the world’s “back office”. Tata Consultancy
Services (TCS), an IT firm now worth $170bn, undertook its first project
for an American client in 1973, reworking the accounting software of a
hospital in Detroit. The rise of “global capability centres”, where
multinational companies carry out complex tasks, from design to research,
is increasingly making that view out of date. The question is whether GCCs
will themselves be superseded, too, as India creates some world-beating
global companies of its own.
Back-office firms still matter to India. The IT sector is a juggernaut,
generating about $250bn in annual revenues, or 7% of GDP. But GCCs are
increasingly important, too. The country now hosts some 1,600 of them.
Amazon’s biggest office in the world is in Hyderabad. A fifth of Goldman
Sachs’s staff are in India, as are a fifth of the world’s chip designers. New
GCCs are opening at a rate of roughly one a week.
It is hard to be sure how much GCCs matter to the Indian economy, because
they feature in companies’ internal accounts. However, they are thought to
employ some 1.7m of its IT sector’s 5.4m workers, with salaries over four
times the national average. By one estimate, they create about $120bn in
value and are growing by 11-12% a year. If so, GCCs already represent
over a third of India’s services exports, which would make them its biggest
export category after IT services themselves.
The shortfall is in India’s own roster of global companies. If it could create
them, it would capture more of the rents from global trade. However,
excluding professional-services firms like TCS, the country’s biggest
companies, from HDFC Bank to Reliance (energy, retail, telecoms), are
mostly domestically focused. Although India’s startup scene is promising,
few of its software firms matter outside the country.
One reason to hope this will change is that GCCs themselves are a
launchpad for entrepreneurs, and their growth looks sure to continue.
Remote work has made it easier for firms to collaborate at a distance.
Foreign companies may want to keep work involving intellectual property
in-house. In addition, India is the world’s largest producer of tech talent
after China. In the past the first destination for graduates from the famed
Indian Institutes of Technology was a desk in the West. Today, although
much outsourcing and GCC work is routine, demanding and better-paid
jobs are increasingly tempting India’s most talented graduates to stay at
home.
Letters
Letters to the editor
On disinformation, digital payments, South-East Asia, Italy, Ravel’s “Boléro”, Tesla cars :: A
selection of correspondence
On disinformation, digital payments, South-East Asia, Italy, Ravel’s “Boléro”, Tesla cars
What is truly novel today is the number of people who see messages on
social media and non-attributed websites as their only source of news and
appear not to assess whether a received message is likely to be accurate.
Here is another shortcoming for the education system to remedy.
You suggest that tech firms, NGOS, media outlets and government agencies
should co-ordinate to label, muzzle or remove deceptive content. This
assumes that these bodies always have an interest in exposing the truth.
The “weather weapon” story of last year’s Hawaiian wildfires was quickly
and publicly debunked (they were not started by a laser beam). So what did
cause the fires? Lightning strikes, arson, climate change, new agricultural
practices, electrical power-line failure, inadequate firebreaks, poor
firefighting? Surely allowing all viewpoints to be aired and criticised
publicly is much more likely to come up with the truth and a solution. If it’s
left to the “grown-ups” to censor content, then it will not only be
disinformation that is removed but inconvenient or embarrassing
information as well.
PETER FATTORINI
Skipton, North Yorkshire
Falsehoods have become part of Western self-understanding. The West as a
whole suffers from institutionalised muddled thinking, such as in gender
theory, and not just among a few marginal academics and lawyers. The
problem is not that outsiders are exploiting social media to destabilise the
West, it is that the West has destabilised the whole value of truth in
journalism, academia and politics. Yanking the West back to recognising the
fundamental test of truth (upon which “free speech” should be based) would
be the pre-condition for undermining the credibility of disinformation in
social media.
DAVID WARBURTON
Berlin
JOHN MARSHALL
Santa Fe, New Mexico
Digital payments
Hypocrisy on Gaza
The support from South-East Asia’s Muslim leaders for Gaza (Banyan, May
11th) is pure grandstanding for a domestic audience. Neither Indonesia nor
Malaysia has done much to help the Rohingya, a horrifically persecuted
Muslim minority in Myanmar, their own backyard. Unlike Gaza, the
Rohingya have a credible claim of genocide. Unlike the Rohingya, Gaza
has a government-in-waiting that doubles as an internationally recognised
terrorist organisation. Indonesia’s president-elect, Prabowo Subianto,
accused Western countries of a double standard when it comes to Gaza (By
Invitation, May 4th). Sadly, his position is a cover for his own country’s
failings. This continues a tradition of Muslim leaders using Israel as a
punch bag to prop up their own governments.
ILYA GURIN
Mountain View, California
Italy’s leftish turn
This is a country where left-wing “engaged” citizens look down upon the
rest with so much disdain. Giorgia Meloni, the prime minister, rightly
refuses to be drawn into this trite blame game, which would not end
whatever she might say. It is time to stop this debilitating fight about the
past and put our energies to more productive use looking to the future. And
if free speech is about diversity of opinion, then overcoming the groupthink
generated by our intolerant echo chamber may not be a bad thing to bring
about more discerning citizens.
Rest assured that Ms Meloni’s Italy is not and never will be Viktor Orban’s
Hungary.
BRUNO GEDDO
Milan
Arousing music
Your retrospective piece on Ravel’s “Boléro” did not mention its hilarious
use in Blake Edwards’s “10” (“Can’t get you out of my head”, May 4th).
“Boléro” played in the background during Dudley Moore’s sex escapades in
the film, introducing a new generation to Ravel’s work and its supposed
aphrodisiacal effect.
ALAN MARGOLIS
Philadelphia
Repairing a Tesla
By Invitation
Powerful states are finding it harder to dodge legal
challenges, says Marc Weller
Israel, America and the ICC :: The law professor believes the ICC’s creeping jurisdiction is
part of a broader trend
In the international arena, the rules have traditionally been different. While
states are also supposedly equal in the eyes of international law,
international decisions have depended largely on power relations. There is
simply no mechanism to determine which state is acting in accordance with
international law and which is not, unless the parties to a given dispute have
consented to it. Strong states fiercely defend the sovereign freedom to claim
to be in compliance with their obligations in the absence of any binding
mechanism to verify that assertion.
This explains the shrill responses of Israel and America to the application
for arrest warrants by the ICC’s chief prosecutor, Karim Khan. Mr
Netanyahu attacked the chief prosecutor for having committed “a moral
outrage of historic proportions”. President Joe Biden chimed in, objecting,
like Mr Netanyahu, to any suggestion of equivalence between Israel and
Hamas.
True, the prosecution also applied for warrants for three of Hamas’s leaders.
But Mr Khan did not assert in any way that the terrorist outrage of October
7th is somehow equivalent to Israel’s war in Gaza. Had he not addressed
both the initial attack and the response, he would have been accused of bias,
acting in relation to one but not the other. Instead, the prosecution is
insisting on the obvious fact that all must comply with the basic rules of
humanitarian law, even if provoked by unspeakably vile acts of terrorism.
Beyond the rhetoric, what really incenses both Israel and America is
revealed in a more measured comment by Antony Blinken, America’s
secretary of state. He objected that the ICC “has no jurisdiction over this
matter”.
America, like Israel, chose to stay away from the Rome Statute. An
international treaty only binds the states that have become a party to it.
Hence, the argument is that the ICC, a creature of that statute, cannot
concern itself with a situation affecting a non-member like Israel.
The ICC ruled in 2021 that Palestine can be regarded as a party to the Rome
Statute. Hence, jurisdiction extends to acts committed on Palestinian
territory, and those committed by Palestinian nationals abroad. Accordingly,
acts by Israeli soldiers in Gaza or the West Bank are subject to ICC
jurisdiction, as are outrages committed by Palestinian subjects on Israeli
territory.
Many Rohingyas have been pushed into Bangladesh. The ICC claims
jurisdiction over the junta’s acts against Rohingyas in Myanmar, daringly
arguing that the offence had at least its final effect in Bangladesh, which is a
state party to the Statute. Oddly, America has not protested loudly against
this arrogation of power by the ICC.
Similarly, the ICJ, which addresses cases between states rather than crimes
by individuals, has increasingly made itself available for cases brought by
so-called third parties claiming to act in the international public interest.
Recently, the Gambia was allowed to bring an action for genocide against
Myanmar. There is no real connection between the two countries on this
issue. But the court has accepted that any state can defend fundamental
rights enjoyed even by foreigners living in other states, provided the states
concerned are under its jurisdiction on the issue in question. Similarly,
South Africa took on the mantle of defending the international laws of
humanity when it obtained an interim order against Israel before the ICJ
earlier this year, requiring compliance with the UN’s Genocide Convention
and the delivery of humanitarian aid to Gaza.
Now, where the ICC is concerned, America, like Israel, insists that third
states have no power to construct an international court that exercises legal
powers over its citizens without their consent.
However, under the doctrine of universality, any state has the power to
pursue the gravest international crimes through its own courts, even if
committed by foreigners on foreign territory. Hence, in the 1990s, for
instance, several states started trying Nazi war criminals uncovered on their
territory. Now, the 124 member states of the Rome Statute, and the ICC
itself, are asserting that the court is merely exercising collectively the
powers that each member state enjoys individually to help enforce the
international legal order.
Some years ago African members of the ICC threatened to withdraw from
the Rome Statute. Several of them, including South Africa, refused to
comply with arrest warrants against the then president of Sudan, Omar al-
Bashir. They claimed, somewhat unjustly, that the court was biased against
their continent, given the fact that virtually all of its cases concerned
situations in Africa.
Ironically, now it is precisely states like South Africa and the Gambia that
deploy the mechanisms of international law in situations where the Western
defenders of the international “rules-based system” prove hesitant to see
them applied. The space where America and Israel—and for that matter
Russia or Myanmar—can act without international legal challenge is
shrinking.■
European security
It is at moments like this that you realise how far Europe has come. Former
foes have become allies. We have torn down the walls and iron curtains that
separated us. For decades, we even managed to banish war between our
peoples to the history books. Because we all adhered to a few fundamental
principles: never again must borders be changed by force. The sovereignty
of all states, large and small, has to be respected. None of us should ever
have to live in fear of our neighbours again.
And yet, Mr Putin’s brutal imperialism will not succeed. Today, the
European Union and its members are by far Ukraine’s biggest financial and
economic supporters. Germany alone has already committed €28bn ($30bn)
in military assistance, second only to the United States. But we must not
forget that Mr Putin is in this for the long haul. He believes that
democracies like ours will not be able to sustain supporting Ukraine for
what might be years to come.
And we are not alone. Sweden and Finland joined NATO, making the
alliance even stronger. Many allies now honour NATO’s 2% pledge on
defence spending. What I witnessed in Pabradė holds true across all of
Europe: NATO allies and European partners are standing together, closer
than ever before.
For decades, NATO has been the ultimate guarantor of peace and security in
the Euro-Atlantic area. It still is and must continue to be so in the future.
Europeans can and will have to contribute more to the transatlantic burden-
sharing. This is true regardless of the outcome of the US presidential
elections in November. I therefore support President Emmanuel Macron’s
proposal to have a conversation about the future defence of Europe. I said
earlier this year that we must strengthen the European pillar of NATO—and
we must strengthen the European pillar of our deterrence. To be clear, there
will not be any “EU nuclear weapons”—that is simply unrealistic. There is
also no intention to question the sovereignty of the French dissuasion
nucléaire. At the same time, I welcome the fact that the French president
emphasised the European dimension of the French force de frappe.
We need to discuss how to get the right mix of capabilities to defend Europe
and to deter any aggressor—today and in the future. In addition to nuclear
deterrents, we are looking at strong conventional forces, air and missile
defence, as well as cyber, space and deep-precision strike capabilities. We
are investing in these areas together with our allies and partners, thus also
strengthening our European defence industries to meet the challenges
emerging from the Zeitenwende.
Given how close our countries in Europe are, given the values and interests
we all share, I cannot think of any possible scenario in which the vital
interests of one of us are threatened without the vital interest of Germany
being threatened as well. This is the strongest foundation that NATO’s
European pillar could possibly have. It reinforces the message shared by all
allies, on both sides of the Atlantic: an attack on one of us is an attack on all
of us. Nobody should ever dare to attack a single inch of the alliance, as we
will defend it together. Whoever dismisses this as lip service should look at
what we are doing on the ground. Pabradė might be a good place to start
looking. ■
Briefing
Next week’s election is South Africa’s most important since
1994
Dawdling and decay :: It may force the country’s indecisive leader to make a fateful choice
Even if the ANC does well enough in the election to ally with a relatively
moderate minor party, Mr Ramaphosa will face a variation on the same
dilemma. Thirty years after the end of white rule South Africa is in trouble.
Graft is endemic, GDP per person is lower than it was in 2008 and the state
is becoming ever less effective. The temptation to resort to ruinous
populism to stay in power will only increase. Though the worst outcomes
may be averted this time around, South Africa cannot escape fateful choices
for ever.
To appreciate the stakes, rewind to when Mr Ramaphosa took over. The
new president would speak of “nine wasted years” under Mr Zuma. The
implication was that his predecessor’s reign was an aberration: that the era
of corruption so severe it was dubbed “state capture” was the fault of one
man—and could be resolved by another. Yet that was never likely to be the
case, given the nature of the ANC, what it has done to the South African
state and Mr Ramaphosa’s own failings.
Start with the ruling party. The ANC is an ideological mishmash, a blend of
communism, socialism, black nationalism, Christianity and other ideas. But
the assumptions that the state should be the chief source of development,
that the ANC must wield influence over the state and that markets cannot be
trusted are shibboleths. In 1997 South Africa ranked 47th of 123 countries
in the Economic Freedom Index, a ranking by the Fraser Institute, a
Canadian think-tank, based on the size of the public sector, the extent of
regulation and so on. By 2021 it had slipped to 94th, just ahead of
Nicaragua. The institute’s survey of the attractiveness of mining
jurisdictions places South Africa, once the commodities giant of the
continent, in 62nd place out of 86 countries, behind Congo.
The deliberate blurring of the lines between party and state predated and
outlasted Mr Zuma. The ANC has a long-standing policy of “cadre
deployment”, whereby loyalists are appointed to public jobs on the basis of
loyalty to the party, not competence. Mr Ramaphosa chaired the ANC
committee responsible for this between 2014 and 2019, according to
News24, a South African news organisation.
The blend of state and party abetted a culture of entitlement. “The bedrock
of state capture was the ANC’s ideology,” argues Mcebisi Jonas, a former
cabinet minister, who says he left Mr Zuma’s government to avoid taking
part in its corruption. Many in the ANC behave as if the point of power is to
acquire the lifestyles once enjoyed only by the white minority. As a
spokesperson for Thabo Mbeki, Mandela’s successor, declared, “I did not
join the struggle to be poor.” Both Mr Mbeki and Mandela turned a blind
eye to graft.
Still grazing
Over time, corruption and patronage have corroded the state. Data from the
World Bank suggest that the effectiveness of South Africa’s government has
plummeted since 1996. The result is a bad mix: heavy-handed regulation
and administrative incompetence. “It’s like a black hole,” one adviser to the
president says of the national bureaucracy. Local government is even worse:
the vast majority of ANC-run municipalities were not given clean audits in
their most recent review by a watchdog.
Soweto blues
The ANC is being kept in office, like many “liberation parties” across
Africa, by older rural voters. They are more likely to remember apartheid
and depend on welfare payments. A conversation with Nyaniso
Mhlabandela, in Qunu, a rural village, is indicative. Asked how life is, he
responds with a grim litany: crime, shoddy roads, a lack of jobs and no
water for several years. Nonetheless, he explains, “I’m going to vote for the
ANC once again…I don’t believe that other political parties can bring
change. I have no hope in them, I will stick to the one I know.”
The way things are going
Apathy also helps the ANC. In 1994, the first election after the end of
apartheid, 86% of those eligible went to the polls. In 2019 that share was
just 49%. Perhaps only a quarter of those born since apartheid ended will
bother to vote this time.
This is an indictment not just of the ANC but of the opposition. In 2006
62% of South Africans told Afrobarometer they trusted the ruling party, but
only 29% said the same of its rivals. In 2021 the ANC’s tally had
plummeted to 27%, but trust in opposition parties was also lower, at 24%.
South Africa is quite unusual in having a primary opposition party—the DA
—that does not capitalise much on the ruling party’s troubles. This is partly
a matter of race: black people vote overwhelmingly for the ANC or its
offshoots; minorities generally opt for the DA. But the DA’s leaders have
affirmed the suspicions of the majority by suggesting that colonialism was
not all bad and by issuing a campaign ad in which the “rainbow” flag, a
symbol of post-1994 South Africa, is burned. John Steenhuisen, the DA’s
(white) leader, says the idea was to warn voters about how bad an ANC-
EFF coalition would be. The party has long been stuck at little over a fifth
of the vote.
Some close to Mr Ramaphosa suggest he would rather try to do a deal with
the DA than the EFF. He chaired the ANC committee that expelled Julius
Malema, the EFF leader, in 2012, so there is little love lost between them.
But others in the party would prefer to “bring the family back together”, as
a party official puts it. Since the EFF will do well in Gauteng, the most
populous province, and MK will score in KwaZulu-Natal, the second-
largest, a pact involving mutual support at the national and regional level
may emerge.
In truth the president is hoping he can avoid making a big call. Most
analysts assume the ANC will get around 45%, enough to do a deal with a
small party. The ANC may yet eke out a majority by itself. But even if the
vote goes well at the national level, elections for the nine provincial
governments could result in more of the calamitous coalitions involving
extreme parties that plague big cities such as Johannesburg and Durban. If
the EFF does end up with a role, at least in Gauteng (home to Johannesburg
and Pretoria), disaster awaits. Mr Malema’s party admires Zimbabwe’s farm
invasions. He has urged supporters to sing “Kill the Boer” and declared,
“There is an Indian agenda to undermine Africans.” He has magnanimously
stated, “We are not calling for the slaughtering of white people—at least for
now.”
uMkhonto weSizwe, named after the ANC’s old armed wing, could be
worse still. Mr Zuma, now 82, shows no compunction for his record. A
proud Zulu, he has drawn on tribalism to appeal to the country’s largest
ethnic group. The party’s manifesto suggests it would like to ditch the
constitution. His supporters had threatened violence were Mr Zuma to be
banned from standing for parliament—although, when the constitutional
court did just that on May 20th, there was no immediate unrest.
The ANC also faces internal turmoil. The constitution limits presidents to
two full five-year terms. Mr Ramaphosa’s second term will begin shortly
after the elections. Soon thereafter the ANC will become embroiled in a
succession battle.
Whoever comes out on top, the temptation to peddle pat solutions to South
Africa’s problems will be huge. Almost a third of 18- to 24-year olds say
they would prefer a non-democratic government. Nearly three-quarters of
all South Africans say they would ditch elections for a government that
could provide security, jobs and houses. Such despondency is fertile ground
for populism.
Many in the ANC may see the next five years as a last chance to enjoy the
spoils of power. In “Who Will Rule South Africa?”, published last year, the
journalists Adriaan Basson and Qaanitah Hunter note that, in local
government, electoral setbacks have not spurred the ANC to reform. It
would be “delusional”, they argue, to imagine “nefarious elements in the
ANC” will not use “this term of governance as a last-ditch opportunity for
self-enrichment”.
Unless it changes course, South Africa, not just the ANC, will continue its
slow decline. The state is weak, the economy stagnant, the ruling party
decadent. Widespread poverty will mean voters consider radical
alternatives. The ANC will be influenced more by its populist offshoots. Mr
Ramaphosa, as ever, may hope to avoid a defining choice. But dithering is
also a decision of sorts—and a bad one. ■
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United States
Rural white voters in Wisconsin could decide America’s
election
The country road to the White House :: They are less enthusiastic about Donald Trump than
their counterparts elsewhere
How the NFL keeps fans transfixed even when there are no
games
Off-season offence :: The show must go on
The recent turn to anti-government populism dates to 2010, as the Tea Party
wave crested. That year, Republicans flipped all three branches of the state
government and Scott Walker, on a mission to take on public-sector unions
and their pensions, became governor. Dozens of rural counties that had
voted consistently for Democrats backed him. What Mr Walker planted, Mr
Trump has reaped.
To Democrats’ disgust, Mrs Clinton did not visit Wisconsin once during her
2016 election campaign. Mr Biden and Kamala Harris, between them, have
already visited eight times this year. They do not often hold rallies in rural
areas, but of the 46 offices the Biden campaign has opened in Wisconsin—
more than in any other swing state—nearly half are in rural counties.
Republicans are hoping that despite this outreach, a strong Democratic state
party and emotive issues such as abortion rights and the insurrection of
January 6th, Mr Trump’s personal appeal to rural voters will nonetheless
win the day. His victory in Wisconsin in 2016 was the first by a Republican
in 32 years, and he achieved it with little campaign infrastructure. The
Wisconsin Republican Party remains well-organised and has “gotten very
good at turning out votes”, notes Mark Graul, a Republican strategist who
ran George W. Bush’s 2004 re-election campaign there.
The familiar theme of rural white rage can be overdone. Still, when rural
voters hear Mr Trump say that Washington is a mess and they have a right
to be angry, his words strike a chord, Mr Hogseth reports. “There’s a lot of
anger here, and so when you have a candidate who’s willing to name that,
it’s going to get some traction.” ■
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Corruption trials
Bribery cases can be hard to get across to a jury if the alleged quid pro quo
is subtle or indirect. Mr Menendez’s habits of personal finance have
provided prosecutors with some useful visual aids. Last week they showed
jurors photos of the alleged loot seized from the senator’s home: not just the
now-famous gold bars, but also wads of cash stuffed into a Timberland
boot. Federal agents found more cash in bags and in two of the senator’s
jackets. The FBI got so flustered counting the money by hand that it had to
have two cash-counting machines brought in to tally what turned out to be
$486,461.
Mr Menendez has said that, overall, the charges against him have
“misrepresented the normal work of a congressional office”. His lawyers
called him “an American patriot” who was “doing his job”. They did not
deny some of the unsavoury aspects of his behaviour, but told jurors: “You
might not like it, but it is not a crime.”
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Off-season offence
Weeks after the season ends the league hosts a televised “scouting
combine” for aspiring players to demonstrate their skills. Then comes the
draft, when 32 teams recruit the best college talent. Since it was first
televised in 1980, the draft has become a three-day extravaganza featuring
live music and celebrity guests. Around 775,000 fans attended in person this
year, and some 12m Americans viewed the first round. The NFL’s draft has
become bigger than some leagues’ championship games.
The Los Angeles Chargers are masters of the genre, publishing elaborate
videos to announce their upcoming opponents and mercilessly mock them.
This year the team produced a recreation of “The Sims”, a popular life-
simulation video game. Most of the jokes poke fun at football-related
controversies or their opponents’ weaknesses.
“We’ve really been intentional about making it a big moment,” says Ian
Trombetta, the NFL’s senior vice-president of social, influencer and content
marketing. “The clubs obviously add a ton to that.” One team included
man-on-the-street videos collecting opinions about their opponents: “They
peaked in 1970” (the New York Jets) or “Home of the cheese” (Green Bay
Packers). Another prank-called their opponents’ fans. Viewership is up by
almost 50% from last year.
The Chargers’ video—with more than 40m views since its release on May
15th—has resonated beyond traditional football fans. A kicker for the
Kansas City Chiefs, the Chargers’ week-four opponent, recently went viral
after publicly encouraging women to remain at home and embrace
anachronistic social mores. The video depicted him as a Sims character in a
kitchen baking a pie.
“We’re building an army of young sports fans who are diabolically in love
with this franchise because they followed us from the beginning through
social,” says Jason Lavine of the Chargers’ front office. “It would be tough
to find another sports team in North America that would be as online as
us.”■
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Colleges have continued to hand out places. But applicants have faced long
delays in finding out if they will receive enough aid to afford their courses.
Institutions that would usually require applicants to accept offers by May
1st have had to push their deadlines back. The bigger worry is that,
frustrated by flaws in FAFSA, many youngsters are abandoning plans for
college. By May 10th the number of high-school seniors who had
completed an application for aid was 17% lower than at the same point last
year.
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states/2024/05/21/time-is-running-out-to-fix-americas-student-aid-mess
A migration merry-go-round
The totals hide big changes in migrant flows. For the first time since the
1990s the area around San Diego, California, had more encounters than any
other part of the border, overtaking the region south of Tucson, Arizona.
This is due, in part, to a surge in the number of Ecuadoreans journeying
north as gang violence has worsened in their country. They are crossing into
southern California in greater numbers than anywhere else. San Diego’s
role as the new centre of irregular migration may also be a product of
increased enforcement in Texas, where Greg Abbott, the Republican
governor, has fought the federal government to place extra deterrents along
the border. These measures (and much tough talk) do not appear to be
stopping migrants from crossing altogether. Many are simply trekking
westward instead.
Seasonal migration trends do not explain the drop, either. Over the past
decade these have broken down. Back when those crossing the border were
mostly Mexicans seeking work, there was a pattern to their movements.
Encounters would stay low in the winter around the holidays, increase in
the spring, when the weather was still relatively cool in the sweltering
south-west, and drop back again in the summer, explains Colleen Putzel-
Kavanaugh of the Migration Policy Institute, a think-tank. Now, more
families and migrants from places beyond Mexico are crossing, and their
movements are less predictable.
Instead, two reasons for the decline stand out. First, migration is becoming
ever more responsive to politics, thanks to the speed at which information is
shared on messaging apps and social media. While record numbers of
migrants were attempting to cross the border in December, the Senate was
trying to craft a bill to beef up border security. Among migrants, rumours of
a crackdown were flying. That may have caused more people to cross to try
to get ahead of new policies.
Second, and most important, Mexico has stepped up its own migration
enforcement over the past few months to keep order at its northern frontier.
Migrants are stopped short of Mexico’s border with the United States or at
checkpoints throughout the country and bused south to cities near
Guatemala. But Mexico does not have the resources to carry out a mass-
deportation scheme. And the “decompression” policy may have unintended
consequences. Migrants may turn in greater numbers to smugglers to evade
the authorities, and they could attempt more dangerous routes through the
desert, or via boats along the Pacific coast.
All this means that Mr Biden still has an immigration problem, despite the
fall in encounters. Some 12% of registered voters polled by YouGov and
The Economist say that immigration is the most important issue facing the
country, second only to inflation. Senate Democrats may yet make an
attempt to revive the prematurely deceased border bill. But Mitch
McConnell, the top Republican in the chamber, says Mr Biden’s only
choice is to “do everything he can do on his own”.
If the president does decide to take executive action, which will surely face
legal challenges, it may not come until after Mexico’s elections on June
2nd. Like many of the migrants in Mexico, American policy remains stuck
in limbo.■
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U bet
Police in Houston say that a robbery-murder in January may have been part
of a botched attempt to procure a U-visa. Late last year two suspects were
charged in federal court in Massachusetts with conducting a string of fake
robberies in four states. In 2022 government auditors reported that
safeguards against fraud with the U-visa were weak.
Yet it is not easy even for legitimate victims to get a U-visa, says Kathleen
Bush-Joseph, of the Migration Policy Institute, a think-tank. To apply, you
need a police officer to certify you were a victim of a crime. In 2022
Injustice Watch, an NGO, criticised the Chicago Police Department for
refusing about half of applicants. And being certified is only the start.
Congress sets a cap of 10,000 visas per year; the backlog of pending
applications has reached 354,000. Since 2021 applicants have been able to
apply for work permits while they wait to be processed. But even that
process is taking years.
Arranging a fake robbery for a semi-legal status that you may not get seems
quite a risk to take. But many would-be immigrants are desperate. Some
10m people in America have no path to legal status. “People will take the
few avenues that they have,” notes Ms Bush-Joseph.■
Correction (May 23rd): This article was updated to more accurately
explain how U-visa applicants can get a work permit.
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Lexington
But here’s a bit of important context: when he was killed, that man, Garrett
Foster, was marching in a Black Lives Matter (BLM) protest in Austin,
Texas, in July 2020. The person who shot him, Daniel Perry, was sentenced
to 25 years in prison for murder. On May 16th Governor Greg Abbott
pardoned Mr Perry, saying he acted in line with Texas’s “stand your
ground” law, which allows people to use deadly force if they feel
threatened.
More context is coming in a moment. To jump to the bottom line: whether
or not you believe Mr Perry to be innocent, one lesson of this case, a bitter
one, is that to be confident of getting justice under the law in Texas you
must have political power. That is not just what Foster’s family has
concluded. It is what the governor himself implied in voiding the
conviction. He said Mr Perry was the victim of a district attorney who
demonstrated “unethical and biased misuse of his office” in undertaking the
prosecution.
The governor did not mention that in the weeks before the killing, as Mr
Perry posted racist complaints on social media about BLM (“like a bunch of
monkeys flinging shit at a zoo”), he mused about killing rioters or looters.
“I wonder if they will let my cut the ears off of people who’s decided to
commit suicide by me,” he wrote, with the errata of the casual poster. He
debated with a friend when such a shooting might be justified. “I will also
repeatedly say I am in fear of my life,” he wrote, explaining how he would
defend himself in such a case, as he later did.
In his proclamation, the governor noted that the Texas Board of Pardons
and Paroles recommended the pardon. Mr Abbott did not mention that the
board acted unusually fast—not waiting for the appeals process—or that he
had appointed all its members. He did not mention that he pledged to
pardon Mr Perry the day after he was convicted, after Tucker Carlson, then
a Fox News host, accused the governor of disregarding the right of self-
defence.
All the more reason the rule of law, and perceptions of justice, should stand
apart from politics. Mr Perry was convicted by a jury of his peers, the
bedrock unit of the American legal system. The jury weighed all this
context, including Mr Perry’s claims. That also went unmentioned in Mr
Abbott’s proclamation. But maybe Texans believe a Travis County jury
cannot be fair, just as Donald Trump has insisted a New York jury
considering his criminal case cannot be fair to him. Politics, and
assumptions about politics, are seeping into every American institution, and
so is cynicism about what chance ideals of fairness have against the realities
of power.
Reading through the lengthy court record of Mr Perry’s toxic, sad social-
media posts, one wonders, pointlessly, what might have happened if he and
Foster had had a conversation. Both were military men: Mr Perry, then 33,
was serving as an army sergeant at Fort Hood and driving for Uber that
night in Austin to make ends meet. Foster was a libertarian, and Mr Perry
also claimed to prize freedom. Mr Perry insisted he supported peaceful
protest. He seemed, as a Jew, to feel particularly vulnerable to violence.
But probably a talk with Foster would have gone nowhere. Mr Perry’s
family and friends pleaded with him on Facebook that summer to show
more empathy, without much effect, or just to set politics aside. “Isn’t worth
it, bro,” one friend counselled, urging him: “Go to a mountain to a river
enjoy the rest of our life.”
The Americas
Criminal gangs are showing their muscle as Mexico’s
elections loom
The villains are thriving :: The next president must make the country safer
For chiapanecos such news is all too frequent. Murders in their state rose
by 60% in the first three months of this year, compared with the same
period in 2023. Criminal groups are fighting to control territory for moving
drugs and migrants, who enter Mexico from Guatemala through Chiapas.
“We used to be a poor-but-safe state,” says Francisco Rojas, a candidate for
mayor of Tuxtla Gutiérrez, the state capital. Now Chiapas is dangerous, as
well as poor. It typifies the insecurity under President Andrés Manuel López
Obrador and the government led by his Morena party as his six-year term
comes to a close.
Mexico has suffered under violent gangs for many years. But two features
stand out today. First, the number of places that criminal groups control has
expanded. Second, their influence in local politics has grown. That will mar
the vote on June 2nd, when Mexicans will elect a new president, nine
governors, all 628 seats in congress and over 20,000 local posts.
The second feature is the gangs’ influence on politics. Local officials are
particularly vulnerable to corruption or intimidation: a municipal policeman
in Chiapas can earn as little as 5,000 pesos ($300) a month. Gangs shape
elections by killing candidates they consider unfriendly. At least 64
candidates, their relatives or political operatives have been killed in this
electoral cycle. Last month 200 candidates for local posts in Zacatecas
withdrew, causing the national electoral body to launch an investigation. In
some cases gangs simply field their own people.
Mr López Obrador, who took power in 2018, is not the only one to blame.
Violence worsened after Mexico’s transition to democracy in the late 1990s
and again after President Felipe Calderón launched his “war on drugs” in
2006. Gangs splintered, multiplied and fought back. They expanded into
human-trafficking and mining, spreading from urban to rural areas.
Territorial control offers scope to extort from avocado producers and bus
drivers, to control the water supply and charge people for it, and even to sell
space in the shade.
But Mr López Obrador’s focus on poverty, which he sees as the main cause
of violence, has not fixed the immediate problem. He kept the army on the
streets, a plausible about-turn given the gangs’ firepower, but ordered the
soldiers not to confront the gangs. This “white flag” didn’t work, says
Carlos Matienzo of DataInt, a security consultancy. It let gangs spread;
violence persisted. With 180,000 murders in the past six years, Mr López
Obrador’s time in office has been Mexico’s deadliest period on record.
Disappearances, mostly murders with no body found, are up too.
He has also weakened security co-operation with the United States, which
is keen to stem the north-bound flow of fentanyl and migrants. Few
expected Mr López Obrador to hew to the approach of Mr Calderón and his
successor, Enrique Peña Nieto, who were cosy with the northern neighbour.
But relations are now needlessly combative, says a Mexican official.
Insecurity tops voters’ list of worries. Xóchitl Gálvez—the main rival to
Claudia Sheinbaum, Mr López Obrador’s protegée and Mexico’s likely next
president—has put it at the heart of her campaign.
Correction (May 23rd): This piece has been updated to correct the number
of deaths in Chiapas.
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loom
This year’s fire season is already ramping up. On May 14th a blaze raging
over 200 square km forced 6,600 residents of Fort McMurray, in north-
eastern Alberta, to flee. Oil drillers were on alert, too. The province’s tar
sands—one of the most polluting sources of oil in the world—produce 3.3m
barrels per day (b/d) of crude, equivalent to just over 3% of the global
supply. In 2016 a hellish wildfire forced 1m b/d of production offline.
Rystad Energy, a consultancy, warns that the worst-case scenario this time
could put more than 2m b/d at risk by threatening pits, people and pipelines.
Residents have since been allowed to return, and fortuitous rains have
curbed the spread of the fire.
To fight these alien monsters, Canada’s fire services are mustering drones
that drop “dragon-egg bombs”, summoning the long-ignored wisdom of
indigenous peoples and heeding the ancient counsel of an admonishing
cartoon bear. That means relying on mitigation and preparation, rather than
mere suppression, to deal with firestorms that many fear are Canada’s new
normal. Bone-dry ground conditions after a season of scant snowfall and
spring droughts across Canada’s north mean the floors of the forests are
primed with plenty of material to ignite another catastrophic wildfire
season.
Smokey Bear, the dour ursine of the United States Forest Service, who for
decades told North Americans that “only YOU can prevent forest fires”, has
been reincarnated in the form of foreboding-filled fire officials like Dennis
Craig. Hired by the resort town of Kelowna after about 200 homes last year
were reduced to cinders, Mr Craig was given the newly created title of
assistant chief of wildfire mitigation and preparation. Kelowna is one of
many towns shifting its resources from fire-suppression to preparation. And
the onus is on residents. “We’re delivering a hard message to home-owners
this year,” says Mr Craig. “It’s time to start looking at your own properties
and changing your behaviours.”
The cost of all this is being borne by property-owners and taxpayers. Don
Iveson, a former mayor of Edmonton who is now climate-investment
adviser for Co-operators Insurance, says those who are reluctant to pay now
may soon find they have no choice, as houses in wildfire zones are
becoming hard to insure. “This is beginning to bite,” he says. “It’s hard to
finance a house if you can’t get insurance. We’re seeing an impact on
property values.”
Last year’s fires were so bad they have prompted a return to the long-
ignored indigenous practice of controlled burns. For centuries leaders of
Canada’s First Nations performed “cultural burns” in the cool of spring to
cleanse the landscape of fire fuels and maintain a careful balance between
woods, deer, bears and birds.
“That recreates nutrients, removes pests, cleans out ticks,” says George
Lampreau, chief of the Simpcw First Nation (pronounced “Seemp”, with a
lip-pursed exhalation at the end), located in Barriere, British Columbia,
420km (260 miles) north-east of Vancouver. The burns also had the effect of
creating firebreaks in the blazes that were started by summer lightning.
They fought fire with fire.
Just such a firebreak, as well as the deft work of Chu Chua Volunteer Fire
Department squads under Ron Lampreau, helped arrest fires that threatened
his community during last year’s fire season. “When we first built the
firebreak, there were complaints about clear-cutting. After the fire, the
complainers said we didn’t build the break wide enough.”
Mr Lampreau’s success has led to funding for him to train “Little Campfire
That Could” teams across the country. “We’re building big-ass firebreaks,”
said Mike Westwick, fire-information officer for Canada’s Northwest
Territories, which are also vulnerable to fire.
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firestorms
Yet their electoral power has been growing fast. In the past century Mexican
officials viewed the diaspora as traitors who had ditched their country, says
Rafael Fernández de Castro of the University of California in San Diego.
Mr Fox was the first candidate to see them as a resource, in part because of
the billions of dollars they sent home every year in remittances. The number
of registered voters abroad, while low, has risen by 25% since the last
presidential election, in 2018.
Émigrés tend to vote against the party that was in power when they left
Mexico, says Tony Payan of Rice University in Houston. Because so many
of them emigrated during the seven-decade reign of the Institutional
Revolutionary Party, which finally ended in 2000 with Mr Fox’s victory, the
diaspora has tended to favour other parties. This should bode well for Ms
Sheinbaum.
But the composition of the diaspora electorate is evolving. After a long lull
in migration following the global financial crisis of 2007-09, more
Mexicans are again crossing into the United States, most commonly settling
in California. They may decide to vote against the leader of the country they
departed, and his protégée.■
Asia
Geopolitics helps reignite New Caledonia’s anti-colonial
unrest
New Caledonia, Old Tensions :: Emmanuel Macron makes an emergency dash to the troubled
Pacific island
Presidential aides say that Mr Macron, who was initially planning to spend
just a day on the island, wants both to show solidarity with residents and to
see if he can get rival political groupings to sit down together. The latest
flare-up was sparked when the National Assembly in Paris passed a law on
May 14th expanding the electoral franchise. At present, French citizens who
arrived in New Caledonia after 1998 do not have the right to vote at
provincial elections, which legislators in Paris consider discriminatory. Mr
Darmanin says it is time to introduce “a minimum of democracy” by
unfreezing the electoral rolls and opting instead for a sliding ten-year
residence requirement.
Before leaving Paris, officials suggested that Mr Macron might set up some
form of unspecified “commission” to try to unblock the political stalemate.
It now seems unlikely that the vote in Versailles could take place as
scheduled in late June. The presidents of both chambers have suggested it
should be delayed. Pushing it through now would indeed seem to hark back
to the bad old days of French high-handedness. In the 1980s and 1990s,
France became deft at brokering agreements between rivals in its distant
Pacific territory. But since 2021, it has tilted markedly to the loyalist side. It
needs to recover some of the lost spirit of accord. ■
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anti-colonial-unrest
All-consuming fires
In March the state president, Vo Van Thuong, was fired for “violations” and
“shortcomings”—words presumed to refer to corruption. Extraordinarily,
Mr Thuong had been in place for little more than a year, after his
predecessor took the rap for a massive scam involving covid-19 testing kits.
Then in April the chairman of the National Assembly, Vuong Dinh Hue,
quit, for (also unexplained) “violations” that supposedly harmed the party,
the state and himself. And on May 16th the powerful head of the party’s
central secretariat, Truong Thi Mai, the first woman to rise so high, resigned
on similar grounds. In short order, then, incumbents of three of the land’s
five most powerful posts have been fired. Such turmoil is unprecedented. It
is assumed to be related to a fierce battle against graft being waged by the
80-year-old general secretary of the party, Nguyen Phu Truong. Mr Truong
calls this campaign his “blazing furnace”.
The downfall of these cadres hints at how corruption reaches to the very top
of the party. Deeply embarrassed, it has rushed to restore calm. On May
18th To Lam, the minister in charge of the police and public security, was
made state president. On May 20th a National Assembly stalwart, Tran
Thanh Man, was made its chairman. And a senior general, Luong Cuong,
has been moved to the central secretariat to replace Ms Mai.
The one to wonder about is Mr Lam. Head of state is not the most powerful
job (that is Mr Truong’s post). But it matters in the conduct of foreign
affairs. President Vladimir Putin of Russia was expected to fly to Hanoi
after a recent state visit to China; but the trip was cancelled for lack of a
head of state to greet him. The presidency is also a potential springboard to
the general secretaryship. The three-term Mr Truong will step down at the
party’s next five-yearly congress in 2026—if his poor health allows him to
last that long.
In other words, a period of uncertainty, in which the fight against graft and
fierce jockeying for power grow increasingly conjoined, is likely to last at
least until the party congress in early 2026. (The uncertainty would tip into
crisis if Mr Truong were incapacitated before then.) Foreign businesses
riding an investment boom in Vietnam are right to be concerned, less
because the direction of economic policy might change, but rather since
political infighting could prove a distraction from policymaking and might
only aggravate tendencies towards bureaucratic foot-dragging. Mr Hiep
points to delays already in project approvals. Even as the furnace blazes,
some of the shine comes off the Vietnam story. ■
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the-countrys-top-jobs
Bangsamoro’s moment
AHOD “AL HAJ MURAD” EBRAHIM spent most of his life waging war
against the Philippine government in the jungles of Mindanao, in the
country’s south. These days the septuagenarian rebel is behind a desk in
Cotabato, capital of the fledgling Bangsamoro Autonomous Region in
Muslim Mindanao (BARMM). “As revolutionaries we dreamed of having
our own government, and now we have it,” he marvels.
The roots of Bangsamoro’s strife stretch back centuries. The region is home
to the Moro, a Muslim people who have chafed at outside rule. Mindanao
was integrated into the newly independent Philippines after the second
world war, but in the 1960s the government of the dictator Ferdinand
Marcos (father of the current president) encouraged Catholic settlement,
spurring Islamist revolutionaries to take up arms for independence.
A new BARMM government has been created. Mr Ebrahim lists new laws
and regulations drafted and passed, including codes for the civil service,
elections, education and local governance. Japan, which helped broker the
peace agreement, has played a vital role in building up the BARMM. At a
seminar hosted in Tokyo last year by the Japan International Co-operation
Agency (JICA), Japan’s overseas-development body, officials from
Bangsamoro quizzed Japanese academics on the mechanics of voting,
lawmaking and political financing in parliamentary democracies.
This is a big change from a decade ago, when security was dire and
electricity intermittent, even in the capital. “No one was on the streets after
6pm,” notes Ochiai Naoyuki, a JICA official with long experience in the
region. Nowadays the city is bustling after dark. “We want to help build the
community in a modern way, to show that conflict is in Bangsamoro’s
past,” says Yusop “Yed” Dimaporo, an entrepreneur with several cafés in
Cotabato.
In rural MILF strongholds, former fighters seek new lives. Some have
joined the security forces: last month Mr Marcos watched the graduation of
the first class of former insurgents in the Philippine police. At Camp
Darapanan, a MILF jungle base south of Cotabato, others have taken up
farming. “Before we thought about how to win battles, now we think about
how to develop our economy,” says a former commander. His brigade
commanders now run co-operative farms.
Yet the peace process is incomplete, leading some politicians and civil-
society groups to suggest delaying elections and extending the term of the
transitional government again (the covid-19 pandemic caused the first
delay). The disarmament and reintegration of MILF fighters into civilian
life lags behind schedule: only 26,000 of 40,000 combatants have
completed the “normalisation” process. The central government wants the
final tranche disarmed before the elections, whereas the MILF wants the
government first to fulfil promises of economic aid. The MILF also looks
warily at other local clans, many of which have amassed large private
armies. “What will happen to us if we give up our arms but they don’t?”
says Akmad “Toks” Brahim, a senior MILF leader.
For those who have given up the gun, reintegration into civilian life can be
hard. “The jungle is easy: you just have to use this,” Mr Brahim quips,
miming a gun with his thumb and index finger. “But in the office you have
to use this,” he adds, tapping his head. Bangsamoro remains the poorest
region in the Philippines. The Philippine police have welcomed just a
handful of MILF men into their ranks. Cash assistance to former fighters is
meagre and vocational training is often divorced from local realities. One
foreign aid worker recalls a former fighter who was assigned to a course in
baking, given an electric oven and sent home to a village without electricity.
Large-scale clashes between the MILF and the government have ceased and
are unlikely to restart, but a different kind of violence is surging. Private
firearms are widespread. Power struggles between local clans are spilling
into shootings and armed stand-offs. Radical jihadist groups that reject the
peace deal are much weakened, but remain active and have sought to
exploit the moment: in December a group affiliated with Islamic State
bombed a church in Marawi, a city that militants took over for five months
in 2017, killing four and injuring dozens more.
No wonder, then, that the AFP does not feel confident enough to leave
Bangsamoro’s security in the hands of the police and local forces alone. “At
this stage it’s premature to leave, but the problem is that tensions outside
are also rising,” Mr Engelbrecht notes. Parallel crises in the South China
Sea and Mindanao would be the Philippines’ biggest nightmare. ■
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conflict-nears-its-endgame
An unruly corner
On paper India has a lively media scene with around 400 news channels and
20,000 daily news publications in over 20 languages. But press freedom in
India has been in retreat for a while, and under Mr Modi the decline has
accelerated. According to an annual index of press freedom by Reporters
without Borders, an international watchdog, India’s ranking dropped from
140th among 180 countries in 2014, the year Mr Modi was elected, to 159th
in 2024.
Other social-media platforms like Facebook and WhatsApp are popular, but
for those shunned by mainstream platforms, YouTube is the natural choice
(TikTok has been banned in India since 2020). YouTube has more than
460m users in India, attracting four out of five adult internet users.
Independence brings its own limitations. For one, it can be a lot of work.
Mr Rathee’s success has allowed him to have a team of 15 to help him
research and produce his videos. But Mr Kumar spends almost 15 hours a
day writing, refining and shooting his videos. With scant resources, most
independent broadcasters rely on secondary sources for their information.
And despite their impressive online growth, their audiences are tiny in
comparison with traditional news channels’. Nor can they boast of
influence. Mr Kumar rues that the government has stopped noticing them
“as if we do not exist”.
Even so, it is trying to rein them in. Over the past year it has passed laws
that overhaul much of how India’s internet is governed. A new broadcast
bill is in the works to regulate cable television and includes language on
monitoring news on online platforms. Independent digital-news outlets have
formed an advocacy group, but individual YouTubers will face the
government’s wrath on their own.
The government is also trying to silence its critics at source. Google reports
that last year it received over 2,100 requests from it to remove content from
YouTube (see chart 2). In April Bolta Hindustan, a Hindi news channel, was
suspended for violating Google’s terms and conditions. The channel’s
owners claim (and Google denies) that the suspension was in response to a
government notice. That same month “National Dastak”, another news
channel, also faced disruption. A spokesperson for Google said that it has
since reinstated Bolta Hindustan and that “only one video” from National
Dastak was blocked. But creators are always worried about government
action or their channel being banned for breaking YouTube’s terms of
service.
Still, those on the fringe are plucky. In early May Shyam Rangeela, a 29-
year-old comedian who regularly posts videos mimicking Mr Modi,
announced his intention to stand for election against the prime minister in
his constituency in Varanasi. His candidacy was stalled for unclear reasons.
But he has vowed to fight on. Mr Modi, on the brink of a third term, may
find that keeping dissenters in check is harder than he thought. ■
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Banyan
That stance reflects Taiwanese public opinion. Polls there show 80%
support for cross-strait exchanges on the principle of reciprocity. And a
large majority favour keeping Taiwan’s status quo for now or for ever. At
the inauguration, Chang Kuan-ying, a 60-year-old dentist, who was at high
school with Mr Lai, said he was proud of him but hoped Taiwan could seek
peaceful dialogue with China “so that cross-strait tensions will not
continue”. Mr Chang’s worries are shared by many: a recent study by
National Taiwan University found that more than half of Taiwan’s people
believe war could break out in the next five years.
Mr Lai also called for Taiwan’s people to have “no delusions” about
China’s intention of annexing the island. Taiwan will bolster its defences
and ties with other democratic countries, he said. Its strategy to achieve this
includes becoming a key supplier of sensitive technologies such as AI,
drones, satellites and military equipment, in addition to the advanced
chipmaking industry that Taiwan already dominates. “Let Taiwan become
the democratic world’s MVP [most valuable player],” he said.
China was not impressed. Its foreign minister, Wang Yi, condemned Mr Lai,
saying “separatists” like him will be “nailed to a pillar of historical shame”.
And on May 23rd China announced two days of military exercises near
Taiwan. It has also focused on amplifying Mr Lai’s domestic challenges.
Chen Binhua, spokesman for China’s Taiwan Affairs Office, said that Mr
Lai’s views made him a “traitor to mainstream opinion within the island”.
Mr Lai was elected with only 40% popular support, and his party lost the
parliamentary majority it enjoyed throughout Ms Tsai’s tenure. In April
Taiwan’s main opposition Nationalist Party, or Kuomintang, sent a
legislative delegation to China to meet senior officials. Since then it has
been calling for Taiwan’s national-security laws to be revised. Senior
officials and Taiwanese civil society are worried.
In his speech Mr Lai called for political parties to co-operate in the national
interest, while hinting at the danger of Taiwan’s pro-unification parties
working with China to subvert democracy: “All our political parties ought
to oppose annexation and protect sovereignty.” On May 17th six
parliamentarians ended up in hospital after a brawl in the chamber over the
opposition parties’ attempts to push through a reform package that would
expand parliament’s powers. On May 21st thousands of protesters gathered
outside Taiwan’s parliament to demonstrate against the opposition parties.
Mr Lai has hardly begun his new job and already the pressure is on. ■
China
Even Xi Jinping is struggling to fix regional inequality
A tale of two Chinas :: Will China’s vast hinterland ever catch up with its wealthy coast?
China is hardly the only country struggling with regional inequality. India’s
economy is driven by its relatively rich southern and western regions,
which leave parts of the north and east in the dust. British politicians talk of
“levelling up” neglected areas. China’s leaders, though, have unique
concerns. They worry about the security and stability of the hinterland,
which contains most of China’s natural resources. And they are embarrassed
that such gaping inequality exists in their socialist country. Mr Xi, after all,
has promised to create a more egalitarian society under the banner of
“common prosperity”.
Today’s uneven picture dates back to the reforms of Deng Xiaoping in the
late 1970s. China’s former leader set up special economic zones along the
coast that were free to experiment with market activity. The policy was a
resounding success and expanded to other parts of the coast. “Let some
people and some regions get rich first,” said Deng. He promised that the
rest of China would catch up eventually.
As the years went on, the coast became prosperous by making cheap goods
and shipping them abroad. But China’s hinterland remained poor. Some
worried that the growing disparity could lead to unrest. One influential
scholar, Hu Angang, wrote that China might go the way of Yugoslavia, a
socialist country that had broken up in the early 1990s. So in 2000 China
launched the “go west” strategy to help its western provinces. In 2003 a
similar plan was unveiled to revitalise the north-east.
At the heart of the campaigns were big infrastructure projects. Since the go-
west strategy was introduced, some 40,000km of railways have been laid in
western China, more than the total length of track in Japan. Officials also
built roads, bridges and airports. Many of these efforts were tied to the Belt
and Road Initiative, an ambitious attempt to recreate the ancient Silk Road
trade route that linked China with Central Asia and Europe.
Officials have given inland areas cash as well as concrete. Whereas coastal
provinces largely rely on taxes they raise themselves, those in the west and
north-east are showered with funds from the central government. Last year
they received 5trn yuan, making up over half of the budget in some
provinces. Wealthy cities have been paired with poor inland ones and told to
assist them directly. For example, some food-processing companies in
Shanghai are pressed to buy agricultural goods from Zunyi, 1,700km to the
west.
For a time these policies helped to bridge the gap between regions. In the 15
years after the go-west plan was put in place, GDP per person in western
provinces rose from just 35% of coastal levels to 54%. In the north-east, it
rose from 62% to 71%. Abject poverty is now rare in the hinterlands. But in
the past ten years regional inequality has remained sticky—or got worse.
Today residents of western provinces earn about 57% as much as those on
the coast. North-easterners earn 48% as much. Many locals seem to have
given up on the north-east. Its population shrank by 10% between 2010 and
2020 because of low birth rates and emigration.
Provinces in the landlocked interior cannot trade their way to riches as
easily as those on the coast did. China’s poor neighbours—such as
Mongolia, Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan—have relatively little demand for
its goods. For all the talk of reviving the Silk Road, it is still cheaper to send
products to Europe by container ship than by train. So most exporters would
rather invest in factories near ports.
The situation inside China does not help. Tongwei, a dusty county in Gansu
province, has had a high-speed railway station linking it to the coast since
2017. But the railway does not bring in new business, explains Li Hongwei,
who sells refrigerators and televisions in the county seat. Instead, he says,
young people use it to travel to find jobs in eastern cities. A study from
2020 backs him up. Researchers at the Nanjing University of Finance and
Economics and the University of Cambridge looked at 285 cities with high-
speed rail connections in China. It found that, while big cities benefited
because the railways brought in more workers, small cities saw
“insignificant” economic effects.
All this worries China’s leaders, who—like over 90% of the population—
belong to the Han ethnic group. Most members of ethnic-minority groups
live in the country’s hinterland. Officials doubt their loyalty and fear they
may try to secede. Economic development, the officials reckon, will keep
them happy and bind them to Beijing. But the government’s cultural and
security policies often alienate minority groups. And even its development
efforts risk generating more anger than gratitude. For example, nomads on
the Tibetan plateau have been forcibly settled in villages. Mongols have
been turfed off northern grasslands to make way for mines. And the
government has encouraged Han citizens to migrate to the interior. That’s
good for development, but one suspected aim is to dilute minority
populations.
China’s inland areas are important not just because of the risks they pose,
but because of the riches they hold. Most of the country’s rare-earth
elements are dug up in the north-east. Oil and coal is found in the west.
Parts of that region also offer strong winds, dependable sunlight and swift
rivers that can generate power. China has built the world’s biggest network
of ultra-high-voltage energy lines to transport electricity from the west to
the east.
But all this natural wealth may actually be holding inland regions back.
Some places are suffering from a kind of “resource curse”, says Andrew
Batson of Gavekal Dragonomics, a research firm. Their economies have
become so dependent on digging things up that too little capital and labour
have flowed to higher-value sectors, such as manufacturing or services. Part
of the problem is that the state-owned firms leading the development push
tend to focus on resource-intensive industries.
Experts suggest doing more to tempt private firms to invest in the west and
north-east: not always easy, because local governments there tend to be
more bureaucratic and corrupt than those on the coast. China could also
focus less on hard infrastructure and more on the softer sort. Government
spending per high-school student in the west is just 60% of that in the east.
Of China’s top 100 universities, only 16 are in the west. The predictable
result is less dynamism. China’s eastern provinces and cities have five times
as many high-tech firms as the hinterland.
The risk to Mr Xi and the Communist Party is that as economic growth
slows, poor areas will be hit hardest and regional inequality will rise even
faster. So the government has continued to pour resources into western and
north-eastern provinces. Two decades ago such efforts were compared to
“making water flow uphill”, according to the memoir of a former official.
That has not discouraged party leaders, says David Goodman of the
University of Sydney. “Communist parties thrive on the belief they can
change nature.” ■
Study buddies
Much of the action is happening at the university level, but some new
ventures involve secondary-school students. They might visit China for a
conference or a tour. Such programmes, even if not that ambitious, are
important, says Rory Truex, a professor at Princeton. “At this point any
China experience is good experience for American students,” he says. And
it could always lead to more. Mr Truex notes that his own career as a China
specialist began with an eight-week summer programme while in
university.
Chinese students, in contrast, are still going to America in droves. There are
nearly 300,000 of them in the country. But some are also nervous. They
have heard the stories of Chinese academics hounded by American
authorities. Cong Cao of Nottingham University says he knows Chinese
students who have declined generous scholarship offers. They “are afraid of
going to the US for fear of being locked up in ‘small black rooms’ at
American airports”.
Yet the exchanges are “even more important as things get more tense”, says
Ms Oi. American and Chinese students who find common ground today
may grow up to become leaders who keep the Sino-American rivalry in
check. America might also take a more tactical view of things. The result of
the current situation, warned Mr Truex in a recent article, is “a serious and
overlooked knowledge asymmetry” which gives China “the upper hand in
understanding its strategic rival”. ■
YEE HONG HEIGHTS, just outside the city of Shenzhen, looks more like
a mountain retreat than a care home. Its 260 residents can wander through
gardens fringed with palm trees. But the classes on how to use an iPad are
perhaps more important. Some 70% of the residents come from Hong
Kong. The training allows them to talk with their children back in the city.
More and more Hong Kongers are living out their twilight years in
Guangdong, the province where Shenzhen is located. Around 89,000 people
aged 65 or over were “usually staying” in the region last year, according to
official data. That’s 32% more than a decade earlier. Hong Kong’s
government is behind the rise. In 2014 it launched a scheme that covers
living costs and cross-border transport for old people needing care who opt
to move to Guangdong. It pays for most of the Hong Kongers at Yee Hong
Heights.
All of China is ageing, but the situation in Hong Kong is particularly bad.
At 86 years, the city’s life expectancy is the second highest in the world. By
2050 one in three of its residents will be over 65. The ageing population is
putting pressure on care homes, which already have a shortage of beds. The
average wait time for a government-subsidised spot is 16 months. Without
exporting the elderly, the city’s future looks decidedly grey.
The central government backs Hong Kong’s efforts. It wants to develop the
Greater Bay Area, which encompasses Macau, Hong Kong and much of
Guangdong. Part of the plan involves deepening co-operation in care
services. Whereas space in Hong Kong is limited, Guangdong has a surplus
of housing, which older Hong Kongers might fill. If they spend their
pensions in Guangdong, it would help the economy, too.
The central government is also keen to blur the boundary between the
mainland and Hong Kong, which long operated with much autonomy. A
harsh security law passed in March is the latest sign of China’s tighter grip
on the city. Officials in Beijing are eager to show that they can provide
solutions to problems that Hong Kong cannot fix on its own.
HAD THE supreme leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, looked a touch less
steely when delivering his eulogy, more Iranians might have believed the
demise of his president was just an accident. Even Mr Khamenei’s officials
contrasted his perfunctory manner towards the deaths of Ebrahim Raisi and
Hossein Amir-Abdollahian, Iran’s foreign minister, in a helicopter crash on
May 19th with the supreme leader’s uncontrollable sobbing after the
assassination of his top commander, Qassem Suleimani, four years ago.
For decades Mr Khamenei had groomed him as the yes-man at the heart of
his deep state. He was an obedient politician, cleric and sayyid, or
descendant of the Prophet. Critically, he had no son to set up a rival
dynasty. And his lack of charisma and nous seemed to lessen any threat to
the power of Mr Khamenei and his son, Mojtaba, who manages his father’s
powerful bayt, or household. “When you went to see [Mr Raisi], he’d talk
just about whether you’d had lunch,” says an exiled Iranian who knew him.
The Khameneis helped Mr Raisi rise through the ranks of the judiciary and
the rich clerical foundations. In 2021 they engineered the presidential
election to ensure he would win.
Some who know Mojtaba say he began to worry that Mr Raisi could be
building a camp of malcontents within the establishment. Clerics muttered
against the Khameneis for plotting to turn a revolution against a monarchy
into another dynasty. Nationalist generals in the Islamic Revolutionary
Guard Corps complained of wasting their energy enforcing the wearing of
the veil. And powerful families like the Rafsanjanis, who had lost power
struggles with Mr Khamenei but retained much of their wealth, harboured
dreams of revenge. “The winner from Raisi’s death is Mojtaba,” says a
former presidential adviser.
Perhaps the most obvious trajectory for Iran now is that a new president is
installed who is loyal to the military hardliners who underwrite the regime,
and that Mojtaba Khamenei succeeds his father as the supreme leader.
Without popular support or a powerful internal constituency of his own,
Mojtaba would be beholden to those hardliners. Isolated from global
markets, the regime and the economy it controls would continue to decay.
Mounting popular dissatisfaction and internal struggles for power could
make Iran more repressive and belligerent, with alarming consequences for
its citizens and neighbours.
There is, however, another path. Perhaps Mojtaba could set Iran’s
modernisation in motion. The 55-year-old scion, says a former official who
knows him well, is captivated by the model of Muhammad bin Salman, the
Saudi crown prince. Like him, he might relax Iran’s religious rules, release
political prisoners and seek a new relationship with America and perhaps
even Israel. Were this their reward, he says, most Iranians would accept his
succession.
It is an alluring idea, but, unlike Saudi Arabia, Iran has experienced over a
century of struggle against dictatorship. As the shah, an earlier secular
modernising autocrat, learnt to his peril in 1979, absolute rule of a country
as complex as Iran can be any supreme leader’s undoing. ■
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Succession
SINCE MARCH 2023, when Iran and Saudi Arabia agreed to restore
diplomatic ties, the two longtime foes have tried to put on a show of
friendship. The routine has not been convincing. Then, for a moment this
month, they seemed to take the unity act to another level. The Iranian
president vanished, and the Saudi king fell ill. It was a reminder that both
countries are on the brink of profound transition.
Ebrahim Raisi’s death in a helicopter crash on May 19th plunged Iran into
political uncertainty. But anyone hoping it will become less belligerent in
the region is likely to be disappointed. Mr Raisi was not the main architect
of Iran’s foreign policy. Regardless of who replaces him as president, Iran
will continue to support militias across the Middle East and to seek closer
ties with Russia and China. Nor is its nuclear stand-off with the West likely
to ease.
Still, his death will make ripples abroad. Mr Raisi was not alone on the
helicopter: Hossein Amirabdollahian, the foreign minister, was also killed
in the crash. Arab officials were surprisingly fond of him, a diplomat who
spoke their language and knew the region. He had close ties with Hizbullah
and other Iran-backed groups.
Whether they will have anything to discuss is another matter. Days before
Mr Raisi’s death, America and Iran held indirect talks in Oman (Mr
Bagheri-Kani represented his side). They hoped to calm tensions in the
region after a series of tit-for-tat attacks between Israel and Iran last month.
That dialogue is probably now suspended. Iran is unlikely to do much
diplomacy until after its presidential election, scheduled for June 28th. By
the time a new Iranian president takes office and forms a cabinet, America
will be close to its own vote in November. There will be little time for any
serious diplomacy.
Unlike Iran’s case, there are no questions about succession in Saudi Arabia:
Prince Muhammad will ascend the throne after his father dies. He has been
the kingdom’s de facto ruler since he became heir apparent in 2017. For
years, Saudi-watchers have wondered if his father held a veto over a few
pet issues: normalisation with Israel, for example, or legalising alcohol in
the kingdom. The ambiguity probably suited Prince Muhammad, since it
allowed him to move slowly on controversial decisions. But it will end once
he becomes monarch, and that is not far off: even if King Salman recovers
from his lung infection, he probably does not have long to live.
With a three-way deal thus blocked, the Saudis are instead pushing for a
bilateral agreement with America. They would agree to curtail ties with
China, in exchange for the defence treaty and American help with a nuclear
programme. They would also promise to normalise ties with Israel once a
new Israeli government makes that possible. Perhaps that is not far off,
since Mr Netanyahu is embattled and now may soon be indicted for war
crimes.
All this makes for an odd moment. Mr Raisi was not the most powerful man
in the Islamic Republic, and King Salman is arguably not the most powerful
in the kingdom of Saudi Arabia. Yet the death of the former and the illness
of the latter both herald a moment of real change in the region. ■
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FOR MONTHS generals and ministers in Israel have been warning from
behind the scenes that the government of Binyamin Netanyahu, the prime
minister, lacks a coherent strategy for the war in Gaza and its aftermath.
Now at last these bitter arguments are breaking into the open. Israel’s war
cabinet and security establishment are drawing ever closer to an open revolt
against Mr Netanyahu, and are clear they want a sharp change of direction
or new government. The shift comes as the prime minister faces the threat
of an arrest warrant from the International Criminal Court (ICC).
Meanwhile Jake Sullivan, America’s national security adviser, landed in
Israel on May 19th. He had just been in Saudi Arabia, where he was
finalising a blockbuster security deal with the kingdom that includes
proposals for remaking how Palestinians are ruled.
The pivot against Mr Netanyahu began not with the politicians but with the
Israel Defence Forces (IDF). In off-the-record briefings generals have
accused him of blocking any day-after plans for Gaza and “squandering”
Israel’s gains in the war. “It’s the prime minister’s job to set strategy,” says
a general. “But when there is no strategy, it is the army’s job to warn of the
dangers.” Because Mr Netanyahu has resisted the creation of an alternative
force or authority to govern Gaza, there has been a vacuum which the
remnants of Hamas have re-emerged to fill.
Besides the generals, two key figures have flipped from being reluctant
partners of Mr Netanytahu, as ministers in his war cabinet, into open
opponents. On May 15th Yoav Gallant, the defence minister, who is also the
subject of a request from the ICC, stated in public that his plans to create a
new governing entity in Gaza, with heavy Palestinian representation, “had
not been discussed and worse, no alternative has been proposed instead”.
Three days later, Benny Gantz, Mr Netanyahu’s most powerful rival, said
that “crucial decisions have not been made,” and accused a “small
minority” of “taking control of the bridge of the Israeli ship and steering it
to the rocks”. He said he would quit the war cabinet if there was no change
of course by June 8th.
Were his party to quit the government, the residual Netanyahu coalition
would still hold a majority in the current Knesset, Israel’s parliament. Most
Israelis favour an early election, but a further five defectors from the
coalition would be needed to denude it of a majority. Alternatively, the
government could be brought down by the exit of the more extreme parties
on whose support it relies. So far there is no clear sign that the government
is about to lose its parliamentary majority, but that could change quickly.
If Mr Netanyahu bends to the demands of his more centrist critics, or is
toppled, the second question is what a new policy on Gaza would look like.
The Biden administration proposes that a “revitalised” Palestinian Authority
(PA) should take over in Gaza. But building up its capacity will take years.
Mr Gantz is sceptical about the PA’s president, Mahmoud Abbas, and
prefers the putative new authority in Gaza to be led by a cross-section of
Americans, Europeans, Arabs and Palestinians. Mr Gallant seems to prefer
giving control to local elements in Gaza, aligned perhaps with Mr Abbas’s
Fatah movement.
The likes of Mr Gantz and Mr Gallant agree that Israel should not run
Gaza’s affairs; all implicitly think, however, that the IDF should retain a
strong security presence in the strip. There is less agreement on the end-
game that follows any de-escalation of the war. The Biden administration
wants a pathway to an eventual Palestinian state. Mr Gallant and Mr Gantz
are reluctant to endorse this, not least because it would be unpopular in
Israel.
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Deaths in Gaza
FROM THE very start of Israel’s war against Hamas, the death toll in Gaza
has been disputed. On May 8th the controversy over the numbers, which
media organisations including The Economist use, intensified after the UN
appeared to revise down its death toll for women and children. The UN
switched from using the overall figures provided by the Gaza Ministry of
Health (MoH)—which is controlled by Hamas—to using a count that
included only people who had been identified. Some saw this as proof that
the MoH death toll is bogus. In reality the count has inevitably become less
reliable as the war has dragged on. The list of identifiable dead is legitimate
and marks the lower estimate for the lives lost in the war—about 25,000 at
the very least, of whom around 14,000 are women, children or old people.
At the war’s start the MoH death toll was probably fairly accurate. At this
time, the numbers were based solely on deaths registered at hospitals and
morgues. In past Gaza conflicts, the figures produced by MoH matched
those independently calculated by both the UN and Israel.
On October 26th, the MoH released the names, IDs and ages of everyone it
claimed had died in the war. It put the death toll at around 7,000, 68% of
them women, children under 18, or people older than 60. Two academic
articles published last year in the Lancet, a medical journal, analysed the
patterns of IDs and ages and the implied death tolls of different age groups,
and concluded that the figure seemed right.
But as the fighting has continued, the quality of the overall MoH death
count has dipped. Most hospitals can no longer collect data. In mid-
November, the MoH began to add deaths from media reports to the hospital
death count (see chart). This is a routine way to estimate deaths during
wars, but it is fallible. The media may focus on recording deaths of
innocents. Some deaths can be missed, where bodies are buried under
rubble, say. Others may be double-counted. Commentators, particularly
pro-Israeli ones, have been quick to point out inconsistencies in the MoH
figures. Sometimes the supposed cumulative male death toll drops from one
day to the next.
The MoH continues periodically to publish credible named lists of the dead.
These include only deaths registered through the hospital system, and more
recently via an online form for reporting dead relatives. The UN, the World
Health Organisation and Human Rights Watch, a monitor, say they are
trustworthy. The Israel Defence Forces (IDF) produced an analysis, seen by
The Economist, of the named list published on January 6th. The IDF
confirmed that most—83% of the 14,121—were real people, whose name
and ID matched official records. The rest were either missing an ID number,
had an invalid number, or the name and ID did not match records. Of those
identified, only 1,407 were verified as Hamas militants or members.
In other words, while not all entries on the named list are complete, there is
good reason to believe those on it are dead. That would mean, as of April
30th, that at least 24,686 Palestinians had died during the war—of whom at
least 13,816 were women, children or old people—around 70% of the total
that the MoH says have died. Even Israel has indicated it expects the true
death toll to be higher than the MoH list would imply. The IDF claims to
have killed 14,000 militants, but the list contains fewer than 10,000
working-age men. In March the prime minister, Binyamin Netanyahu, said
that up to 32,500 people may have been killed in Gaza, and that up to 60%
of them were civilians. Whatever the true figure, the loss of life has been
immense. ■
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IT HAD BEEN been expected in Israel for weeks, but was still a shock
when it came. On May 20th the prosecutor for the International Criminal
Court (ICC), Karim Khan, announced that he was requesting arrest warrants
for Binyamin Netanyahu and Yoav Gallant, Israel’s prime minister and
defence minister, as well as the leaders of Hamas, the Islamists who
launched the deadly attack on Israel on October 7th last year, on charges of
war crimes.
The prospect of their leaders appearing in the dock along with the
perpetrators of a massacre against them is unthinkable for Israelis. But it is
a sign of the horror with which many have come to view their government’s
devastating war in Gaza. Mr Khan, a British lawyer, issued detailed and
lengthy accusations against both sides. He opened with the allegations
against the Hamas chiefs, Yahya Sinwar (pictured right), Mohammed Deif
and Ismail Haniyeh, detailing the murder, sexual assault and kidnapping of
Israeli citizens. But the charges against the Israeli ministers were no less
pointed.
Mr Khan noted that Israel has the right to protect its citizens, but he accused
it of having pursued “starvation as a method of war” in Gaza. Israel has
denied this charge, pointing to the aid convoys that have been allowed
through. But this has mainly happened in the past couple of months and
under international pressure. There is ample evidence that Israel has closed
routes into Gaza and disrupted the supply of aid. Earlier in the war Israeli
ministers also made clear in public their intention to impose a “total siege”
on Gaza. Mr Khan has chosen to focus on these war tactics, rather than the
bombing of civilian areas. He has also chosen, at least for now, to target
Israel’s political leaders rather than its generals. Nor did the charge sheet
include the allegation of genocide. Mr Khan may be sticking to crimes that
are easier to prove.
The judges in the ICC’s pre-trial chamber must now decide whether there is
enough evidence to issue the arrest warrants. Even if they do, Israel has not
ratified the Rome statute setting up the ICC, so is under no legal obligation
to hand over its leaders. Mr Sinwar and Mr Deif are hiding in Gaza and Mr
Haniyeh rarely, if ever, travels to a country which is a party to the treaty. A
trial in The Hague is unlikely.
At home, Mr Netanyahu got rare support from his political foes. “It is not
possible to issue arrest warrants against Netanyahu, Sinwar and Deif,” said
Yair Lapid, an opposition leader who has told Mr Netanyahu to resign.
“There is no such comparison. We cannot accept it and it is unforgivable.”
Benny Gantz, another rival of the prime minister also rallied round him.
But this will almost certainly be short-lived. Israeli security officials have
been quietly warning politicians that withholding humanitarian aid early in
the war would come back to haunt Israel. “It should have been clear they
would have to walk back the bombastic statements on besieging Gaza,” said
one army officer. “So why do it in the first place?” ■
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israel
IN THE VERY early hours of May 19th around 50 armed and camouflaged
men screeched through Kinshasa, Congo’s capital. First they attacked the
home of Vital Kamerhe, a government minister. After a fruitless 40-minute
firefight with his guards, the attackers moved on to the Palais de la Nation,
the official residence of Félix Tshisekedi, the president.
There, the supposed leader of the coup had ample time to live-stream his
rebellion on Facebook. “We can’t put up with Tshisekedi and Kamerhe any
longer,” declared Christian Malanga, an eccentric Congolese politician and
former army officer, as his men held up flags of the Republic of Zaire, as
Congo was named until 1997 when Mobutu Sese Seko, a kleptocrat, was
deposed by Rwanda-backed rebels.
By dawn this Keystone coup was neutralised and Mr Malanga was dead,
according to the army. The security forces said they arrested dozens of
people, including three Americans and a British man. Two of the Americans
were Mr Malanga’s son, Marcel, and his business associate, Benjamin
Zalman-Polun, a convicted marijuana dealer. The president, who has been
in office since 2019 and was elected to a second term in chaotic elections in
December, was unharmed. But the attack, coming amid an escalating
rebellion in the east of the country once again backed by Congo’s neighbour
Rwanda, has many on edge.
“This was an ambiguous, strange, bizarre but also telling affair,” says Jason
Stearns, a former head of the UN Security Council’s investigation team in
Congo. “Why would you start at Kamerhe’s house and then move to the
palace? Who seriously thinks that with 50 people, poorly trained and
outfitted, you could overthrow a government?”
Many Congolese have asked the same questions. Some suspect domestic
politics were at play and point to the bad blood between Mr Kamerhe and
Mr Tshisekedi. The two men teamed up before a rigged election in 2018 put
them both in power. But the president moved against his former ally after
taking office. In 2020 Mr Kamerhe was jailed on charges of embezzling
almost $50m, though he was later acquitted on appeal. Mr Kamerhe, who
has his own presidential ambitions, is now angling to win a leadership
election in the national assembly. That would possibly give him powers to
block Mr Tshisekedi’s stated aim of amending the constitution, a move
critics say could pave the way for the president to extend his time in office
beyond his current term limits.
American diplomats fret that loss of their influence would open the door for
Russia, which has sealed alliances with several of the military juntas that
have seized power in west Africa and the Sahel in recent years. Polling last
year by the Congo Research Group at New York University and local think-
tanks found that Congolese viewed Russia more favourably than any other
foreign country. Almost 61% of respondents had a “good opinion” of
Russia, compared with 35% for America. ■
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WHEN SOLDIERS from China have made forays onto African battlefields,
they have done so cautiously as UN peacekeepers. The sales teams that
market their weapons overseas are far more gung-ho and have been fanning
out across the region—armed with brochures and freebies—in search of
new customers.
They are signing deals with an increasingly diverse list of clients, from
historic friends to would-be buddies, keen to be kitted out with Chinese
weaponry. Among the weapons China has delivered are warships to
Djibouti and Mauritania and drones to Nigeria and Congo, according to a
database maintained by the Stockholm International Peace Research
Institute (SIPRI), a think-tank. It found that no fewer than 21 countries in
sub-Saharan Africa took major deliveries of Chinese arms between 2019
and 2023. Perhaps seven in ten African armies now field armoured vehicles
that are, like so many other products, made in China, reckons Janes, a
publishing company specialising in defence.
These sales are not just a source of revenue for China’s arms industry, as the
country is expanding and modernising its own armed forces to challenge
America and its allies. They are also helping to extend China’s influence in
Africa, which is fast becoming a playing field for geopolitical rivalry
between America, China, Russia and a host of medium-sized powers, such
as Turkey. Some Western defence officials are concerned that China intends
to establish a naval base on Africa’s Atlantic coast. “There is a larger
architecture here,” says Paul Nantulya of the Africa Centre for Strategic
Studies, a think-tank funded by America’s defence department. “Weapons
sales fit into China wanting to be seen as a preferred partner.”
One reason is that China and the UAE have fewer qualms about how clients
intend to use their weapons, or whether they have clean human-rights
records. General Christopher Musa, the chief of Nigeria’s defence staff, has
complained that Western suppliers are often unwilling to sell Nigeria the kit
it wants to fight Boko Haram, a jihadist group known for enslaving
schoolgirls. So it has turned to China, which has delivered almost 300
armoured vehicles since 2020. including VT-4 tanks as well as drones and
fighters.
Rwanda has adopted Chinese training procedures and some troops have
been even taught to respond to their own drill sergeants in Mandarin. “One,
two,” they shout, to the delight of Chinese media. “Left, right.”
It may not all be straightforward. China has got itself into sticky situations
before. Its relations with Eritrea deteriorated in the 1990s, after it emerged
that China was also arming its adversary, Ethiopia. Modern weapons may
also make existing conflicts worse. China’s drone sales to Congo have
increased tensions with Rwanda, its neighbour, which has since been
accused of firing a Chinese-made missile at a UN surveillance drone.
Africa’s defence chiefs ought to take note: the missile missed. ■
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Europe
Le Pen’s hard right looks set to crush Macron’s centrists
European Parliament elections :: The vote in France spells trouble for the president
MARKET DAY, and more people are queuing to buy lottery tickets at the
Café du Centre than freshly dug carrots and spinach at the farm stall.
“People here watch their budgets,” says a fresh-produce seller: “They prefer
to shop at the discount store.” Once, this red-brick northern town of some
3,000 people thrived on the back of a big jute-weaving and textiles factory,
opened in 1857. Today, Flixecourt has a poverty rate of 19%, nearly five
points above the national average. Squeezed finances and disillusion are
pushing voters to the extremes. On a recent weekend, ahead of elections on
June 9th to the European Parliament, the only two candidates whose posters
were visible in the town were Jordan Bardella and Marion Maréchal, rivals
from the nationalist hard right.
If France is a test case for whether Europe’s political centre can hold against
the forces of nationalism and populism, Flixecourt captures the dynamics
shaping that choice. For over half a century voters there have entrusted their
town hall to the Communist Party. These days Flixecourt is under strain, but
not deserted. Traffic on its main street rumbles past two boulangeries and a
Turkish kebab joint. Net curtains hang neatly in the windows of its rows of
little terraced houses. The town boasts an indoor synthetic ice rink, charging
€2 ($2.17) a session, and organised a recent rally for baton-twirling
majorettes. A huge modern logistics warehouse by the motorway just
outside the town has jobs to fill. “Unemployment is less of a problem than it
used to be,” says Patrick Gaillard, the town’s Communist mayor. “Those
who really want a job can find one.”
Yet next month, says the mayor, the town is likely to vote overwhelmingly
for the populist right. Already, at the presidential election in 2022, Marine
Le Pen of the National Rally (RN) topped first-round voting in Flixecourt;
65% of voters backed her in the run-off round against Emmanuel Macron,
the centrist president. Last year his government spent over €22bn to cap
energy prices and limit inflation. Locals, however, think that Mr Macron
“doesn’t look after their daily concerns”, says the mayor. The vote, he says,
is a chance to protest by backing the far right: “Voters are never
disappointed, because the party has never been in power.”
National polls suggest the French will vote in line with Flixecourt. Mr
Bardella, the 28-year-old head of Ms Le Pen’s party list, enjoys a poll
average of a remarkable 33%, twice that of Mr Macron’s candidate, Valérie
Hayer. An official from the president’s alliance, Ensemble, says it would do
well if it scores in the high teens, a miserably low ambition. Ms Hayer has
tried to campaign on matters European, exposing the nationalists’
inconsistencies. The clean-shaven and unflappable Mr Bardella, though, is
turning the vote into a referendum on an unpopular president, whom he
accuses of “immigrationism”, weak policing and disdain. He plunders the
populist playbook. There is “no corner” of the country, claims Mr Bardella,
“where the French are sheltered from violence”. Mr Macron, he says,
“weakens everything he touches”.
Flixecourt suggests, though, that this vote may be about more than protest.
Mr Bardella has become a household name, embodying the RN’s
detoxification. This week it said it would no longer sit in the European
Parliament with its German counterpart, the Alternative for Germany, now
considered too extreme. An astonishing 43% of 18-24-year-olds say they
will vote for Mr Bardella in June. His TikTok videos, in which he eats hot-
dogs or takes selfies, regularly get over 1m views. “He looks like a nice
guy,” says a Flixecourt voter. “People here are no longer ashamed of saying
that they will vote for Bardella or Le Pen,” says another.
In the longer run, the normalisation of the RN poses serious questions about
the political centre’s ability to resist its ascent. Mr Macron cannot run for a
third consecutive term, in 2027, and no clear successor is in sight. In the
short run, a crushing result for Ensemble will put a fresh spring in the
opposition’s step. This goes for Ms Le Pen’s RN, but also for the Socialists,
whose candidate, Raphaël Glucksmann, is hard on Mr Macron’s heels from
the left.
Mr Macron does not have many good options. He may hope to continue
muddling through, and risk more no-confidence votes if the government
uses Article 49.3, for instance to pass its next budget. Were he to lose one,
he might re-appoint Mr Attal anyway, which he is constitutionally entitled
to do, and hope for the best. Or Mr Macron may try again to forge a
coalition with the centre-right Republicans, though the party has resisted
such attempts in the past. In short, if the European result is as bad as the
polls suggest, Mr Macron may seek to brush it off as a mid-term bump. But
the new political dynamics would put his minority government under
unprecedented pressure. ■
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macrons-centrists
Pragmatist or pasionaria?
JUST WHEN her European counterparts felt they had her taped as a
realistic, if staunch, conservative, Italy’s prime minister, Giorgia Meloni,
popped up on May 19th at a rally in Madrid organised by the Spanish hard-
right party Vox, seemingly happy in the company of such hardliners as
Marine Le Pen from France and Argentina’s libertarian president, Javier
Milei. Since coming into office, Ms Meloni has largely eschewed
Eurosceptic talk, aware that Italy stands to receive almost €200bn ($217bn)
from the EU’s pandemic-recovery fund. But speaking by video-link to the
crowd in Madrid, she lambasted the European Commission as “a
bureaucratic giant that aspires to regulate every aspect of our lives while
being unable to offer a clear geopolitical vision”. She promised a different
Europe, but left fuzzy the outlines of her nativist nirvana.
The European elections will be the most important test so far of Italy’s
right-wing coalition. But the opposition, split between the centre-left
Democratic Party (PD), the populist Five Star Movement and various
centrist groups, presents no great challenge. Polls have given her Brothers
of Italy (FdI) party around 27% of the vote, a percentage point more than at
the general election in September 2022. That puts the Brothers about seven
and 12 points ahead of the PD and Five Stars respectively.
Vox’s rally offered Ms Meloni a useful opportunity to guard her other flank.
Matteo Salvini, the leader of the League, in a somewhat less than fraternal
coalition with the FdI, has adopted an increasingly radical stance as he
searches for a way to stem the flow of support from his party to Ms
Meloni’s. The approach of the European elections has cast a pitiless light on
the League’s decline. Last time, in 2019, it took 34% of the ballot. Recent
polls see it scraping just 8% next month. Italian politics are notoriously
volatile, but even by that standard this is remarkable.
But neither the general’s views nor his high media profile have improved
the fortunes of the embattled League. In some recent polls, Forza Italia, the
party created by the late Silvio Berlusconi, has overtaken it. Widely
expected to crumble into insignificance after its founder’s death last year,
Forza Italia, which espouses liberal conservatism, has experienced a modest
revival under its new leader, Antonio Tajani, a former president of the
European Parliament and Italy’s current foreign minister.
By contrast, Mr Salvini has presided over the loss of more than three-
quarters of his party’s support. It is a tribute to his bombastic charisma that
he has managed to keep his job until now. But if the vote next month
confirms that the League has fallen to third place in the coalition, it could
finally be up for grabs.
Not the least of the obstacles to an accord has been the fact that the
representatives of Italy’s nationalist right are split between the two groups
and are keen to maintain their separate identities. In the outgoing
parliament, the League is the biggest member party of the ID, providing 23
of its 59 MEPs. This time round, it can expect to get around seven. The
Brothers, with perhaps as many as 24 seats, will become altogether more
attractive allies. ■
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meloni-guards-her-right-flank
ANNA SITS in silence for most of the car journey from Kyiv to Kharkiv,
her face contorted with worry. “The Russians come closer, closer, closer,
but he’s just not listening to me,” she says. Anna made a point of visiting
her 75-year-old father regularly, checking in on him at the simple brick
house he built 45 years ago near Kharkiv’s glimmering Pechenihy reservoir,
east of the city and close to the Russian border. This time, with the din of
artillery in the background, she had come to persuade him to leave—to
escape a Russian advance already enveloping Vovchansk, 25km to the
north. After a hug and a few tears, the initial conversation does not go well.
“The TV and radio say it can’t get worse,” insists Petro. “The Russians are
losing. Sanctions, losses. Reinforcements are coming our way. They can’t
come further.”
Ten days after the start on May 10th of Russia’s offensive in Kharkiv
province, the pace of the advance has slowed. For now, Ukraine is holding
the Russians roughly halfway through Vovchansk—a town, just 5km from
the border, that is now being turned to ashes—and at positions roughly 9km
inside Ukraine further west, near Lyptsi. With an estimated 48,000 troops
ready, Russia does not have the forces for a major attack on Kharkiv city,
Ukraine’s second biggest. But local military leaders insist that the situation
remains precarious, and could change quickly. Russian columns were halted
only after several experienced brigades were redeployed and came to the
rescue, one says; Vladimir Putin will “surely” try his luck by opening a new
attack elsewhere in the region.
According to the plans, the Russians had identified two axes of attack on
either side of the reservoir. The push on the western axis was intended, over
72 hours, to bring Russian troops to within artillery range of Kharkiv city at
the village of Borshchova. They were stopped by a rapidly redeployed
grouping from the elite 92nd Brigade, which pushed them back a full 10km
from their initial goal. But up until that moment, the story had been about
Ukraine’s poor defensive fortifications, about how the 125th Brigade that
should have repelled the attack in fact fled from positions while under
pressure, and about serious Ukrainian losses.
On the Vovchansk axis, further east, the Russian plan had been to fight past
Anna’s father’s house on the reservoir, right down to the town of Pechenihy.
The Russians initially made quick work of this operation, sweeping through
an area that should have been prepared with minefields and serious
engineering fortifications but wasn’t. “They were just simply allowed to
walk through,” complains Denys Yaroslavsky, a special-forces officer
whose social media posts on May 12th alerted the outside world to the
possibility of a wider reverse. “We were watching them cut through the
border fence on screens at about 11pm on May 9th, and I said to my men to
watch how they would blow themselves up on mines. There were no
explosions; they simply carried on.”
Many of the soldiers in Kharkiv are angry that Russia was able to advance
so far so quickly. Some of them criticise delays in Western aid, which they
believe encouraged Russian aggression and weakened Ukrainian defences.
Others suspect that incompetence, or even treachery, played a more
significant role. Conspiracy theories to the effect that politicians in Kyiv or
Washington may be selling Kharkiv down the river ahead of an ugly peace
deal are also circulating. Official Ukrainian narratives that present a rosy
picture are not helping to calm nerves. “[President Volodymyr] Zelensky is
being kept in a warm bath,” complains Mr Yaroslavsky. “We think the
president should tune into the situation on the ground and not ape Putin, a
man whose life revolves around the papers his aides bring him.” A
government official, who asked to remain anonymous, suggests that Mr
Zelensky had already sensed he might not be receiving the full truth.
“That’s what he yells at his generals, at least.”
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kharkiv
This seems bizarre. The Netherlands and Morocco are far apart and have no
history of conflict. But there is a large Moroccan-Dutch minority stemming
from guest-worker programmes launched in the 1960s. As Muslims they are
targets of religious prejudice, and their young men commit more crimes
than other Muslim groups. So since Dutch politics turned rightwards in the
2000s, race-baiters have singled them out. In 2016 a report by the EU’s
Agency for Fundamental Rights, found the Netherlands had the most
discrimination against North Africans of all countries surveyed.
Similarly, in the Baltics the most resented group are the ethnic Russians left
over from Soviet times. Russia’s invasion of Ukraine has exacerbated those
tensions. Studies last year by the Friedrich Ebert Stiftung, a German think-
tank, found Russian-speakers felt Estonian- and Latvian-speakers were
treating them worse. (Estonian- and Latvian-speakers agreed.) The same is
true in Finland, where natives lump Russian immigrants with those from
Arab and African countries among the least favoured ethnicities. “It’s
mostly a suspicion of them not being loyal,” says Emma Nortio of the
University of Helsinki, who studies national-identity issues.
In Poland, with its history of domination by the Russian Empire and the
Soviet Union, Russians have fallen since 2022 to being the least popular
national group, according to the country’s Public Opinion Research Centre.
They now rank below Europe’s traditionally most-stigmatised ethnicity: the
Roma. Ukrainians, historically disliked in Poland, were welcomed as
refugees from Russian tanks.
Being white and Christian helps: refugees from North Africa and the
Middle East tend to be stigmatised. But the nature of the crises they flee
makes a difference. In Germany, surveys in 2017 found that Syrian refugees
were seen as warmer and more competent than North Africans, as they were
viewed as genuine victims. In the 2000s radical Islam stirred anxieties. But
as terrorism in Europe has ebbed, the focus has changed to gang crime. In
Sweden that has led to more negative attention for Kurdish Swedes, less
associated with Islamism but prominent in drug networks. The religious
dimension remains crucial; in France antipathy towards North Africans is
markedly higher than towards black Africans, according to the latest report
by the country’s anti-discrimination monitor. Antisemitism tends to rise
when the Israeli-Palestinian conflict heats up. And in its most recent reports
the authority has found a dramatic rise in racism against Chinese and other
east Asians, linked to the covid-19 pandemic.
Current events can also reduce prejudice. In the 1990s Italians stigmatised
Albanian immigrants. But as Albania has grown more stable and less poor,
they have slipped off the list of feared minorities.
And when all else fails, they go after the Roma. Robert Fico, the Slovakian
prime minister who survived an assassination attempt on May 15th, began
his political career as a left-wing populist and is currently a right-wing one,
but his Roma-bashing has remained constant. Portugal long lacked a big
far-right party, explains Alexandre Afonso of Leiden University: it had little
immigration, and those who did come, such as Brazilians, were not viewed
unfavourably. So when the hard-right Chega party launched in 2019 it
targeted the small, impoverished Roma population. Chega is now polling at
18%. ■
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creates-prejudice
Charlemagne
For now the vegan burgers are safe. France’s highest court in April stayed
the decree until the EU’s top court can rule on whether banning foods in
one European country but not another is in line with the bloc’s single-
market rules. (The court is not expected to opine until next year; it takes
longer for a European judge to make a decision than it does for a farmer to
rear a cow from birth to abattoir.) Lobbyists are already rehearsing their
arguments for when the ruling is made and the debate reopened. The
farmers plead that a steak is a steak and something made from chickpeas or
grown in a lab is not. Plenty of other words are available to veggie-food
producers; one lobby group suggests vegans can refer to their burgers as
“roundies”, a term that is sure not to catch on. Peddling a squishy substance
made of vegetables or grown in a lab as “meat” confuses consumers into
thinking the two have similar nutritional qualities. Tosh, say the tofu-eaters.
Consumers understand full well a no-meat burger is not made of animal
flesh: it is exactly what they are looking for. Anything that helps reduce the
carbon hoofprint of livestock, which accounts for at least one-tenth of
global emissions, can only be good.
The debate is about more than just a name. The science needed to make a
passable meat-like product from cells was pioneered by Europeans, notably
the Dutch, almost 30 years ago. Europe has more firms researching the
“cultivation” of substitute meat and seafood than America or anywhere else:
a rare case of leadership in a cutting-edge field. But for now the fruit—or
meat—of that research is edible only overseas. Singapore authorised cell-
grown “chicken” for sale to the public in 2020, America in 2023. Earlier
this year Israel was the first country to authorise a lab-made “beef”.
Australia, Britain and Switzerland are reviewing applications, including for
products made by EU firms. But within the bloc, where such novel foods
need the kind of regulatory approval reserved for pills and vaccines, no
authorisation has yet been sought. “Cultivated meat was born in Europe but
the concern is the rewards will be reaped in the rest of the world,” says Seth
Roberts of the Good Food Institute, a pro-vegan campaign group.
Even if the food-safety authorities find no fault with such culinary
innovation, politicians stand ready to step in. France, Italy, Romania and
nine other countries recently demanded that cultivated foods should be the
subject of a “renewed and broad debate”, Euro-speak for discussing
something for so long that it is, in effect, banned. For what would happen to
farmers should they face such competition, they asked? Without real
livestock and their grazing habits, what would become of the continent’s
grasslands? The “strategic autonomy” of Europe apparently depends on
consumers being told what they can and cannot eat. Scientists aren’t
allowed to make fake cows, but politicians still have no trouble coming up
with real bullshit. ■
Britain
Could the Labour Party blow its big opportunity?
Paranoid android :: Sir Keir Starmer’s party is terrified of letting victory slip through its
fingers
Paranoid android
BRITAIN WILL hold a general election on July 4th. Announcing the news
in Downing Street on May 22nd, his expression plaintive and his jacket
soaked with rain, Rishi Sunak had the air of a man who knew what the
result would be. Since he took office in October 2022, the prime minister
has tried anything and everything to reverse the Conservative Party’s ailing
poll numbers—diligent promises to reduce inflation and health-care waiting
lists; bellicose swagger about deporting migrants; an offer of stability, then
change, then stability again. To no avail.
The Labour Party now has an average poll lead of 23 percentage points, a
deficit that no governing party has successfully overcome in an election
campaign. The central scenario of The Economist’s prediction model, which
draws from polls and the results in individual constituencies in elections
dating back to 1959, is that Labour will win 381 seats to the Tories’ 192
(see chart 1), a thumping majority of 112 MPs. The model gives less than a
1% chance that the Conservatives would win a majority of seats if an
election were held tomorrow. A separate analysis by The Economist, based
on 100,000 responses to surveys conducted by WeThink, a polling firm,
shows that 96% of voters have become less likely to support the Tories than
they were at the election in 2019. Polling by Ipsos finds that voters think it
is “time for a change” by a margin of 73% to 18%.
Yet in the Labour Party the mood is less hubris, more terror of letting
victory slip through its fingers. At a gathering of Labour thinkers on May
11th David Lammy, the shadow foreign secretary, rattled off a list of recent
elections where parties that had enjoyed strong poll leads ended up
suffering defeat: Hillary Clinton in America in 2016, the Australian Labor
Party in 2019 and the Christian Democrats in Germany in 2021. “The
election this year is still one that we can lose,” he said. Many Labour
candidates report much greater cynicism on the doorstep than polls suggest.
What, if anything, could derail Labour’s chances of finally winning power
again?
First, the economy. Mr Sunak called the election after declaring victory in
the battle against inflation, a fight that has dominated his time in office;
official data show that inflation hit 2.3% in April. That followed news of
strong GDP growth in the first quarter of the year, at 0.6%. For many
Britons it “might still be hard”, acknowledged Mr Sunak, but his hope is
that voters will believe that things are on the up.
The share of Britons who think the economy will be better in 12 months’
time is at its highest level since September 2021, at net -21%, although this
is still pessimistic by long-term standards. Although Labour enjoys a rare
lead over the Tories among voters as the best party on the economy, at 8%,
this advantage is much narrower than its overall polling lead.
Next, closer scrutiny of Labour’s programme. Despite its hefty poll lead,
newspapers and broadcasters still often treat the party as a curiosity. The
campaign will bring greater focus on a policy agenda laced with
contradictions and fragile assumptions—that it can transform public
services without spending more money, or that it can meaningfully tighten
labour laws without businesses feeling a pinch. The leadership will get
more attention, too: Sir Keir Starmer, the Labour leader, is more popular
than Mr Sunak but much less than Sir Tony Blair was at this point in the
1997 race. Voters are still unfamiliar with many of Labour’s front-bench
team. It is not too late to make a bad first impression.
A further unknown is the impact of smaller parties. The goal of Reform UK,
a right-wing insurgent party that emerged from the former Brexit Party,
seems less to be winning seats than inflicting enough damage on the
Conservative Party to shift it in a more radical direction in future. An
average of polls puts Reform UK on 11%, with its support drawn far more
from those who voted Tory in 2019 than from Labour’s ranks. But Labour
is still worried that this split could reverse. “If the government is deemed to
get a grip on immigration over the summer, support peeling away to
Reform could be curbed,” Ellie Reeves, the party’s deputy campaign co-
ordinator, told activists before the election was called.
On the left, too, Labour’s electoral coalition is more volatile than it might
first appear. In local elections earlier this month, smaller parties secured
23% of the vote, with the Green Party making significant inroads in Bristol
and Hastings. It is highly likely that many of these voters will switch to
Labour at the general election, but not guaranteed. Some in the party are
privately alarmed at the intensity of hostility towards Sir Keir in some
Muslim communities over the war in Gaza, which they fear will deny the
party a handful of seats.
There is also the potential impact of online activity. Much of the anger over
Gaza is on TikTok. A faked audio clip circulated recently that purported to
show Sir Keir abusing his staff. Mr Lammy has said that “dark forces from
hostile states like Russia and Iran may seek to interfere.”
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opportunity
Wiggly wormageddon
Worms matter. Soil should be riddled with them: 1m3 of healthy soil can
contain over 1km of earthworm tunnels. Soil looks static but is constantly,
slowly on the move. Darwin observed that if a layer of cinders or small
stones were put on a field then, within a few years, worms—like magicians
taking away a tablecloth—would have moved the soil from below and left it
on top of the otherwise undisturbed stones.
Worms are rarely applauded for all this, partly because they have an image
problem. They are subterranean, timid and, admits Professor Fonte, “not
charismatic”. They have suffered from several centuries of negative press:
look up “worms” in the Oxford Dictionary of Quotations and you will be
offered entries in the “with vilest w. to dwell” vein. It is typical that the
worm’s decline was noticed only because ornithologists wanted to
understand the decline of (more photogenic) animals such as the song
thrush, which prey on them.
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cataclysm
Mr Martindale is one of more than 30,000 Britons who were infected with
HIV and hepatitis C through treatment in the National Health Service
(NHS) in the 1970s and 1980s; around 3,000 of them have died to date. Mr
Martindale was also the first victim to testify at the public inquiry into the
infected-blood scandal, which was set up after decades of delays in 2017.
And on May 20th this year he was in a conference centre in central London
to hear Sir Brian Langstaff, the chair of that inquiry, present his final report.
Most of the detail has been known for decades. Blood used in routine
transfusions and blood products given by the NHS turned out to be rife with
infection. Most notorious was Factor 8, a clotting agent extracted from the
plasma of thousands of donors that could be self-administered by people
with haemophilia, a rare genetic condition in which the body is unable to
form blood clots. Doctors looked upon it as a revolutionary treatment; for
many, it turned out to be a death sentence.
That could have been largely avoided, the report concludes. The risks of
hepatitis infection from blood products were known before the NHS was
created in 1948. The NHS “knew, or should have known” the risks of HIV
infection by the end of 1982 yet failed to limit them, in part because
advisers failed to calculate them correctly. Complacency and convenience
took precedence over caution; thousands continued to receive contaminated
blood long after the dangers were understood. Victims were then not told
about their diagnoses for years after they were tested; some unknowingly
infected their partners. Perhaps thousands who were infected with hepatitis
C from a transfusion remain undiagnosed. “The disaster was no accident,”
said Sir Brian.
For this reason the report that was published on May 20th was always
primarily going to be about acknowledging the victims. The inquiry drew
upon more than 4,000 of their statements. Throughout its seven-year span
Sir Brian, a former judge, repeatedly called the process a “collective
endeavour”; the second volume of his report is dedicated entirely to the
personal experiences of the afflicted. His second recommendation was that
there should be a permanent memorial to the victims.
His first was that the victims receive proper compensation. On May 21st the
government released long-awaited details of a scheme that Sir Brian had
first recommended should be established last year. Unusually, it seeks to
compensate victims on grounds such as the social stigma of infection, as
well as awarding damages for financial loss and the costs of care that would
normally be recognised in a court of law. Speed is a priority, so the
compensation scheme will not typically assess claimants individually.
These features will probably make the costs extremely large. Those who
suffered multiple infections can expect to receive at least £2m ($2.5m)
each, with smaller payments being made to affected family members and
carers. The total costs of compensation are expected to reach £10bn.
What will happen to prevent a repeat of this injustice is less clear. Britain
has seen a succession of scandals and cover-ups in recent years, from the
Hillsborough stadium disaster to the wrongful convictions of over 900 Post
Office subpostmasters (the inquiry into which continued this week).
Recommendations to change the defensive culture of public bodies like the
NHS and the civil service often follow, though as Sir Brian himself
acknowledges, they are extremely hard to implement. In the report he points
to specific mechanisms that might help, from existing proposals to improve
patient safety in the NHS to the introduction of a duty of candour for civil
servants. The latter could be “a positive step,” says Emma Norris of the
Institute for Government, a think-tank.
That is for the future. For now, the focus is finally on recognising and
compensating the victims of the infected-blood scandal. “The words come
from you,” Sir Brian told them after receiving a standing ovation. “This is
your report.” ■
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JADE BARNETT learned that she was being moved from foster care into a
children’s home a few years ago when she saw her possessions in the back
of a taxi. The children’s home turned out to be near Blackpool, in north-
west England—330 kilometres from London, where she grew up and where
the social workers who were meant to be looking after her were based. She
expected to stay in the home for two weeks. It turned into one and a half
years.
Some 84,000 children in England are in the care of local authorities because
their parents cannot look after them for one reason or another. In an
extremely centralised country, it is one of the few important responsibilities
that those institutions still have. Every year councils spend more money on
the children in their care. Every year the system serves the country’s most
vulnerable children less well.
Adult social care, including nursing homes for the old and frail, is notorious
for straining local authorities’ budgets. But spending on children in care is
rising at a faster rate, says Roger Gough, the leader of Kent County
Council. In England as a whole, local authorities spent more than £7bn
($8.6bn) on looked-after children in the 2022-23 fiscal year, a 36% increase
in real terms compared with 2015-16. That squeezes budgets for everything
else, including help for families not yet in crisis.
Over the ten years to 2023 the number of children in care swelled by 23%,
or by 16% if you do not count unaccompanied children seeking asylum,
whose numbers have risen recently. And the children who enter the care
system are becoming older and needier. Whereas young children tend to
live with foster carers, older ones are more likely to end up in children’s
homes; some require intensive, round-the-clock attention. Caring for them
can be costly—sometimes amazingly costly.
But the main reason for the increase in costs is economics. “It’s simply a
supply-and-demand issue,” says Stuart Ashley, the head of children’s
services for Hampshire County Council. England has too few foster carers
and too few children’s homes. Councils end up competing for scarce places,
with predictable consequences.
England has a “mixed model” of care (in Scotland the state plays a bigger
role). About half of children are placed in foster care by independent
agencies, which charge local authorities for their services; four-fifths of
children’s homes are privately run. To judge by the ratings they receive
from inspectors, private homes are no worse than state ones. But they are
often in the wrong places, because firms tend to build them where property
is cheap (see map). North-West England has fewer inhabitants than London,
but it has 746 children’s homes compared with 164 in the capital.
It would help greatly if Britain had more foster carers. “Most kids in care
need to be in foster care,” says Andy Smith, the president of the Association
for the Development of Children’s Services, who also works for Derby City
Council. The number of fostering households is falling, perhaps because of
growing competition for spare rooms from renters and adult offspring who
cannot afford to move out. Mr Smith says that he has had to place seven-
and eight-year-olds in residential care—something that was unthinkable
until recently.
But the immediate need is for more children’s homes. And the immediate
reason more children’s homes are not created is that the planning system
makes it hard. Permission is often required to convert a house into a
children’s home. Sometimes the police are the ones to object. An
application for a children’s home in Dudley was rejected in January after
the West Midlands Police pointed out that it was a high-crime area, and that
children in care homes sometimes run away and are preyed upon by drug-
trafficking gangs.
Try to create a children’s home in a quiet area, though, and people raise
other objections. In February Wyre Council in Lancashire rejected an
application to turn a house in a cul-de-sac into a home for two children and
three carers. It feared that cars would park by the roadside, harming “visual
and highway amenity”, and that existing residents might be disturbed by
“talking and noise from car doors”. It mentioned that it had received 65
letters of objection to the home. Suffer the little children? No thanks.■
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england
Alcoblocks
NOT THAT long ago asking for an alcohol-free beer in a British pub made
you seem weird. Less so now. Alcohol consumption is falling among
young, affluent and health-conscious consumers. Better brewing techniques
have introduced tastier non-alcoholic options. Sales of alcohol-free beer
rose by 26% in 2022.
Even so, the overall market is still tiny. Non-alcoholic beverages make up a
sliver of Britain’s booze market, at just 3%. That is comparable to the share
in France and America but far behind that in Germany (16%) or Spain
(11%), according to the IWSR, a research firm. Sales growth of alcohol-free
drinks would need to exceed 40% each year to come close to raising their
market share above 10% by 2030, according to the Social Market
Foundation, a think-tank.
Wider availability and better products will naturally help the market to
grow. But so would ironing out a specific wrinkle in the British market.
According to standards set by the Department of Health and Social Care,
drinks must contain less than 0.05% alcohol by volume (ABV) to be
considered alcohol-free. That is less than the alcohol content of burger rolls
or ripe bananas. It is also much less than in comparable markets. The 0.5%
ABV beers made by Big Drop, a British craft brewer, are officially deemed
non-alcoholic in America, Australia and Germany but not at home.
The government, keen to give more options to people who drink to excess,
has launched a consultation on updating its rules so that drinks with 0.5%
ABV can rightfully claim the alcohol-free descriptor. A labelling change is
not going to make the market go crazy but it would bring Britain into line
with other countries. And it might make it even easier to order something
non-alcoholic next time you are at the bar.■
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free
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Bagehot
OVER THE patter of the rain and the sound of protesters’ speakers blasting
“Things Can Only Get Better”, an anthem of New Labour, it was almost
impossible to hear Rishi Sunak outside 10 Downing Street on May 22nd.
The words were close to inaudible but the message was clear: the prime
minister had spoken to the king, Parliament was to be dissolved and an
election is coming on July 4th. The decision is impulsive, illogical and
entirely in keeping with the manner in which Mr Sunak has governed.
Calling an election earlier than many had expected has some small merit.
The inflation figure for the year to April, released earlier in the day, was
slightly higher than expected, at 2.3%. Although Mr Sunak claimed victory
(“inflation is back to where it should be”) hopes of early interest-rate cuts
by the Bank of England, which would relieve pain for mortgage-holders,
had gone. Higher borrowing costs also leave little room for another round
of tax cuts in the autumn. The main benefit of delaying, at least in the eyes
of the government, had disappeared. So why wait?
Throughout his career, whatever mess Mr Sunak has found himself in was
almost always of his own making. As chancellor Mr Sunak spent his days
dealing with the chaotic wants of Boris Johnson, a man Mr Sunak had
campaigned for to be prime minister. As prime minister he spent months
renegotiating the terms of a deal in Northern Ireland he had previously
whole-heartedly supported. Britain’s economic woes—of high inflation and
low productivity growth—have been exacerbated by its departure from the
European Union, a decision Mr Sunak was keen on. He practises a rather
odd style of politics: he cancelled a high-speed rail link to Manchester
while in Manchester.
If big calls are bodged, so are small ones. Mr Sunak’s career demonstrates a
weakness for ideas that are at best gimmicks and at worst boneheaded. As a
backbencher he was a loud supporter of freeports, which shuffle economic
activity around rather than generating it. During the peak of a hysterical
bubble about non-fungible tokens (NFTs), Mr Sunak, then chancellor,
pushed the Royal Mint to issue its own. (The plan was quietly dropped in
2023, by which point most NFTs had become worthless.)
For a man who says he has a plan, Mr Sunak operates in a rather last-
minute way. Even setting aside the weather, this was not a smooth election
launch. Cabinet ministers scurried back from their duties, no matter how
important. David Cameron, the foreign secretary, rushed back from Albania,
where he had been welcomed with a street lined with Union Jacks and a
gigantic photo of himself. The government in Tirana is responsible for one
of the few successes of Mr Sunak’s term in office: a deportation deal that
has dramatically reduced the numbers of young Albanians crossing the
Channel in inflatable boats. This was a strange way of saying “thank you”.
Mr Sunak’s slogan is “stick with the plan” but he has stuck with very little.
Even the policies he hails are the ones he once opposed. As chancellor Mr
Sunak pushed to increase taxes paid by employees; as prime minister he has
made a show of cuts for the same people. As chancellor Mr Sunak criticised
a wacky and cruel scheme to send asylum-seekers from Britain to Rwanda.
As prime minister Mr Sunak has made the scheme a flagship policy.
A permanent home
“OH GOD, MATE, it takes me back,” says one actor as she pulls a black
plastic bag over her head to demonstrate how she used to wear one as a rain
poncho. Another actor points out the weathered duct tape holding together
“Fred’s Trolley”, a shopping trolley used during the covid-19 pandemic to
serve tens of thousands of hot drinks to homeless people on the street. Both
actors used to be homeless. They are performing as part of the opening
exhibition at the Museum of Homelessness (MOH), the world’s first of its
kind, in north London.
Shelter, a charity, estimates that on any given night 3,000 people in England
sleep rough (very many more live in hostels or temporary accommodation).
But their experiences have been largely overlooked by cultural bigwigs. In
2014 Jess and Matt Turtle, the museum’s curators, were offered a collection
of 7,000 objects from the Simon Community, a homelessness organisation.
They have since collected many more items from anonymous donors on the
streets. After a decade of operating temporary exhibitions the MoH, which
is a charity, signed a ten-year lease on an empty cottage inside Finsbury
Park. From May 24th the museum will be open to the public, who will be
able to see items from its permanent collection and from a special
exhibition called “How to Survive the Apocalypse”.
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International
Iran’s new leaders stand at a nuclear precipice
An interview with Rafael Grossi :: The world’s atomic watchdog fears a terrifying regional
arms race
The Vienna-based IAEA has two jobs, both enshrined in the Nuclear Non-
Proliferation Treaty (NPT) of 1968. One is to promote the peaceful use of
nuclear energy. The other is to ensure that using such energy does not lead
to countries developing the bomb. And the country of principal concern
today is Iran.
Bold plans
He argues that the IAEA has played a vital role. When the invasion began,
he says, no one asked the agency, or Mr Grossi personally, to visit
Zaporizhia; had he asked permission, he says, he might well have been
rebuffed. With the support of America, Britain and France—Mr Grossi
singles out Emmanuel Macron for his support—he chose not only to go, but
to stay. “I went there to visit and I forgot a group of people,” he quips,
referring to inspectors who remained behind and are still present there and
at every other Ukrainian nuclear site. “And then we were there, and who is
going to kick us out?”
If Iran and Ukraine were not enough, the agency’s job is growing. In
March, for the first time in 13 years, Mr Grossi visited Damascus, where he
had a “frank conversation” with Bashar al-Assad, Syria’s president. In 2007
Israel bombed an incomplete reactor in the east of the country, believing it
to be part of a Syrian nuclear-weapons programme. It had not been declared
to the IAEA.
Mr Grossi accepts that the agency will get few answers on that—“that piece
of infrastructure was disposed of, to put it mildly”—but he wants the
Syrians to open up on related facilities. He is cagey on whether that will
happen—“we are working on having a possibility to access these places”—
but the dialogue is a start. The IAEA has no contact with North Korea, but
Mr Grossi warns that “the programme is growing in every direction” and
with “a huge question mark on nuclear safety”.
In the coming years, the agency will also have to safeguard a deluge of
nuclear-energy projects (see chart 2). “There’s going to be more nuclear in
the world, in developing countries, in other places,” says Mr Grossi. The
agency expects a 30% rise in the number of countries operating power
plants by 2035. At least 59 are under construction, some in countries with
no nuclear experience. Many are being built by Russia or China, which
have tended to impose weaker safeguards on clients than does America.
Moving on up?
Editor’s note (May 22nd 2024): This piece has been amended so as to
include a reference to research by the Institute for Science and
International Security.
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nuclear-precipice
Business
Can Nvidia be dethroned? Meet the startups vying for its
crown
Think different :: A new generation of AI chips is on the way
Think different
“HE WHO CONTROLS the GPUs, controls the universe.” This spin on a
famous line from “Dune”, a science-fiction classic, is commonly heard
these days. Access to GPUs, and in particular those made by Nvidia, the
leading supplier, is vital for any company that wants to be taken seriously in
artificial intelligence (AI). Analysts talk of companies being “GPU-rich” or
“GPU-poor”, depending on how many of the chips they have. Tech bosses
boast of their giant stockpiles. Nvidia’s dominance has pushed its market
value above $2trn. On May 22nd it reported that its sales for the quarter
ending in April grew by 262%, year on year (see chart).
GPUs do the computational heavy lifting needed to train and operate large
AI models. Yet, oddly, this is not what they were designed for. The initials
stand for “graphics processing unit”, because such chips were originally
designed to process video-game graphics. It turned out that, fortunately for
Nvidia, they could be repurposed for AI workloads.
Ordinary processing chips, like those found inside laptop and desktop
computers, are in essence designed to do one thing after another. GPUs, by
contrast, contain several thousand processing engines, or “cores”, which let
them run thousands of versions of the same simple task (like drawing part
of a scene) at the same time. Running AI models similarly involves running
lots of copies of the same task in parallel. Figuring out how to rewrite AI
code to run on GPUs was one of the factors that triggered the current AI
boom.
Yet GPUs have their limitations, particularly when it comes to the speed
with which data can be shuffled on and off them. Modern AI models run on
large numbers of interconnected GPUs and memory chips. Moving data
quickly between them is central to performance. When training very large
AI models, some GPU cores may be idle as much as half of the time as they
wait for data. Andrew Feldman, the boss of Cerebras, a startup based in
Sunnyvale, California, likens it to the gridlock in a grocery store on the day
before Thanksgiving. “Everybody’s in a queue, so there are blockages in the
parking lot, there are blockages in the aisles, blockages at the checkout.
That’s exactly what’s happening with a GPU.”
Yet another approach is that taken by MatX, also based in California. GPUs
contain features and circuitry that provide flexibility for graphics, but are
not needed for LLMs, says Reiner Pope, one of the firm’s co-founders. The
GPU-like chip his firm is working on gets rid of such unnecessary cruft,
boosting performance by doing fewer things better.
Other startups in this area include Hailo, based in Israel; Taalas, based in
Toronto; Tenstorrent, an American firm using the open-source RISC V
architecture to build AI chips; and Graphcore, a British company that is
thought to be about to sell itself to SoftBank, a Japanese conglomerate. Big
tech firms are also building AI chips. Google has developed its own “tensor
processing units” (TPUs), which it makes available as a cloud-computing
service. (It unveiled its latest version on May 14th.) Amazon, Meta and
Microsoft have also made custom chips for cloud-based AI; OpenAI is
planning to do so as well. AMD and Intel, two big incumbent chipmakers,
make GPU-like chips already.
One danger for the newcomers is that their efforts at specialisation could go
too far. Designing a chip typically takes two or three years, says Christos
Kozyrakis, a computer scientist at Stanford University, which is “a huge
amount of time” given how quickly AI models are improving. The
opportunity, he says, is that the startups could end up with a chip that is
better at running future models than Nvidia’s less specialised GPUs are. The
risk is that they specialise in the wrong thing.
The biggest customers for AI chips, and the systems built around them,
include model-builders (such as OpenAI, Anthropic and Mistral) and tech
giants (such as Amazon, Meta, Microsoft and Google). It may make sense
for such companies to acquire an AI-chip startup, and keep its technology to
themselves, in the hope of besting the competition. Instead of trying to
compete with Nvidia, chip startups could position themselves as acquisition
targets.
Mr Pope says MatX is targeting the “top tier” of the market, which suggests
that it hopes to sell its chips—if not the whole company—to the likes of
OpenAI, Google or Anthropic, whose AI models are the most advanced.
“We would be happy with many kinds of exit,” he says, “but we think there
is a sustainable business here as a standalone company.” That remains to be
seen. Cerebras, for its part, is said to be preparing for an initial public
offering. So far none of the startups has made a dent in Nvidia’s dominant
position. Plenty of people are hoping that one of them will. ■
Big game
Some foreign firms have retreated from Africa in recent years as higher
interest rates have made investing in riskier countries less attractive,
particularly ones with volatile currencies and controls on the repatriation of
profits. Political dysfunction in countries including South Africa and a
string of coups along the Sahel have not helped. The flow of foreign direct
investment into Africa slumped from $80bn in 2021 to $48bn last year. In
April Société Générale, a French bank, announced it would sell its
Moroccan business to Saham Group, a local conglomerate. It has already
left a number of other African markets such as Chad and Mauritania. In
August hot-cocoa fans in South Africa were dismayed to hear that Nestlé, a
Swiss food giant, was halting production of Nesquik, a chocolatey
beverage, in the country.
Many businesses are betting that such trade will continue to grow. “More
companies will produce in Africa, for Africa, so we’re preparing ourselves,”
says Philippe Labonne, the boss of Africa Global Logistics (AGL), a freight
business with operations in 49 countries. ARISE, an industrial-park
developer focused on Africa, has been helping set up commodity-specific
manufacturing zones, including for cotton in Benin, meat in Chad and
timber in Gabon, which it hopes will spur regional commerce. Liquid
Intelligent Technologies, a pan-African technology group, has built a vast
network of fibre-optic cables across much of the continent and is now
busily constructing data centres.
It has long been easier to offshore white-collar work to India than the blue-
collar variety. Spreadsheets and emails do not need to travel along the
country’s congested roads or otherwise rely on its shoddy infrastructure.
(GCCs generally have dependable internet connections, a luxury not always
enjoyed in India.) Labour laws covering matters such as redundancies and
—crucially for global firms—working hours are less restrictive for the
country’s white-collar workers, too.
More recently, technologies such as cloud computing and video
conferencing have made it less cumbersome to tap India’s vast pool of
brainy workers. Having learned how to supervise employees remotely
through the covid-19 pandemic, plenty of bosses will have now pondered
whether some roles could be done from farther afield.
All that helps explain why the number of GCCs operating in India has
ballooned from 700 in 2010 to 1,580 last year, according to NASSCOM, an
industry body (see chart). A new centre now opens roughly every week,
two-fifths of them in and around Bangalore. India’s GCCs generated a
combined $46bn in revenues last year, estimates NASSCOM.
All this has helped turbocharge India’s services exports, which hit $338bn
last year, or nearly 10% of GDP, up from $53bn in 2005, reckons Goldman
Sachs, a bank. The country now accounts for 4.6% of global services
exports, up from roughly 2% in 2005. India’s goods exports, by contrast,
account for just 1.8% of the global total, up from 1% in 2005.
India’s government has been busily trying to tilt that balance towards
manufacturing, by modernising the country’s infrastructure and doling out
subsidies to foreign firms that produce there. Plenty of other countries are
vying to steal China’s title as the world’s factory. None, however, has as
good a shot as India at becoming the world’s office. ■
AFTER THREE days in the great outdoors, gnawing anxiety sets in. The air
may be fresh but the woman in the advert is not. The backs of her knees
have begun to emit an unusual smell. Luckily for her fellow campers, she
has packed a tube of Peach and Vanilla Blossom Whole Body Deodorant
Cream, a fresh product launched in January by Secret, a personal-care
brand.
Americans have long had a particular aversion to stench. Last year they
bought $6.6bn worth of deodorant, the equivalent of nearly $20 per person
—more than in any other rich country, according to Euromonitor, a research
firm. Lately companies like Secret have been encouraging them to hunt out
odours from their feet to their “underboobs”. Google searches for “whole-
body deodorant” shot up by 1,000% in the year to March (albeit from a low
base).
For the most part these creams, sprays and sticks are deodorants, which
cover up smells, rather than antiperspirants, which stop the sweat that
causes them. That is a good thing, says Andrew Best, a biologist at the
Massachusetts College of Liberal Arts, because “blocking sweating on
larger parts of your body is asking for overheating”.
One body part that has attracted particular attention is the groin. In 2017
Shannon Klingman, a gynaecologist, launched Lume, a deodorant she first
whipped up in a kitchen mixer, with the goal of masking “front fumes”. The
company has since been acquired by Harry’s, a purveyor of razors.
Others sniff at the idea that natural odours must be covered up. Lume’s
website laments how odour undermines women’s “self-worth”. Jennifer
Lincoln, a gynaecologist, thinks urging women to smell like “piña coladas”
will hardly help restore it. (Technically the scent in question is Bay Rum.)
Although the products seem to be mostly targeted at women, fragrances
such as Bourbon Leather ensure men do not feel left out.
Mr Best, who studies the role of sweat in human endurance, thinks being
ashamed of perspiration is like feeling sheepish about “having language or a
big brain”. Still, he does not recommend people abandon deodorant
altogether—nor the occasional shower.■
Walmart shifted more than $600bn of stock last year, from televisions to
toilet rolls. By comparison its ad operation looks insignificant, bringing in
just $3.4bn in revenue in the same period. Yet the margins on advertising
are so fat, and those on groceries so thin, that ads contribute an outsized
share of profit. In 2023 advertising made up 7.5% of Walmart’s earnings
before interest and taxes, estimates UBS, a bank. It reckons that Walmart’s
ad business is set to grow by about a quarter every year, contributing 13%
of profit by 2026.
Walmart’s advertising operation has three main parts. The largest is the
digital ads that appear on its website and app. These are closely targeted,
because Walmart knows what the consumer is searching for, and their
effectiveness precisely measured, since it knows whether shoppers end up
buying the advertised product. Because this is “first party” data, from
Walmart’s own site, it is unaffected by the ever-stricter anti-tracking rules
imposed by Apple and others to protect users’ privacy.
Brands used to grumble that Walmart’s digital ads were poor value. No
longer. In 2021 the company poached Seth Dallaire, a star adman, from
Instacart, a grocery-delivery firm. Mr Dellaire, who had previously set up
Amazon’s advertising business, overhauled the way Walmart’s online ads
were auctioned, with the result that these now deliver a better return for
advertisers than those of either Amazon or Instacart (see chart). In April
third-party “marketplace” sellers were also given the ability to buy display
ads on Walmart.com.
The second part of Walmart’s ad offering is video. Again, it is playing
catch-up with Amazon, which is pouring billions into shows like “The Lord
of the Rings” on its ad-supported streaming service, Prime Video. Walmart
has opted for a less glamorous, behind-the-scenes role. In February it said it
would buy Vizio, a manufacturer of smart TVs with 18m users in America
to whom it can show personalised commercials. And it has done deals with
other media companies to target their viewers with its data. The latest of
these, announced earlier this month, will see data on Walmart’s shoppers
being used to send personalised ads to Disney’s streaming viewers.
Some believe the next step is “shoppable TV”, in which audiences buy
products directly through their TV sets. In November Walmart released
“Add to Heart”, a TV series stuffed with shoppable products. The “rom-
commerce”, as Walmart dubbed the show, will not win any Oscars, but is a
revealing experiment. Shoppable TV “is very much in the early innings”,
says Sarah Marzano of eMarketer, a firm of analysts, who believes it will
take off only if retailers can reduce the friction involved in making a
purchase. (“Add to Heart” relied on texting a link to TV viewers’ phones for
them to complete the transaction.)
The final advertising opportunity for Walmart, with perhaps the biggest
potential, lies in its vast network of bricks-and-mortar shops. Walmart has
more than 5,000 stores in America (including its Sam’s Club subsidiary)
and 10,000 worldwide, adding up to more than a million square feet of
retailing—and advertising—space. That puts it far ahead of Amazon, which
has 538 Whole Foods Market stores and fewer than 100 Amazon Fresh and
Amazon Go outlets. Walmart claims that 90% of American households shop
at its stores at least once a year. Reaching that in-store audience is the “next
frontier”, says Ryan Mayward, an executive at the company.
Advertisers, who are hooked on precisely measurable digital ads, still see
in-store ones as poor substitutes. A survey of consumer-packaged-goods
firms in 2022 by Bain, a consultancy, found that only 17% believed in-store
ads offered a high return on investment. Tracking consumers’ behaviour is
harder offline, and some efforts to do so have backfired. Amazon filled its
stores with video cameras, but removed some of them after customers
grumbled about being spied on. Walgreens, a pharmacy chain, planned to
install thousands of ad-filled digital screens on its refrigerator cabinets, but
changed course last year, citing various technical problems.
Walmart has improved its ability to link online ads to offline sales, using
anonymised payment details to track when a customer buys a product in-
store after seeing it advertised in the app. And it is increasing the number of
places where advertisers can display in-store messages to consumers. Its
stores already show ads on 170,000 digital screens across their electronics
departments and checkouts, and are now experimenting with showing them
on the screens at their deli counters and bakeries.
In-store digital advertising remains a far smaller market than the online sort,
even though 85% of retail sales in America are still made in person. That
imbalance may represent an opportunity: if in-store ads can be made
remotely as effective as online ones, a market worth tens of billions of
dollars awaits, believes Mr Lipsman. Few companies stand to benefit more
than the mightiest retailer of all. ■
Bartleby
You are not alone: I probably get more letters about this topic than any
other. It’s very hard to admit to disliking dogs, so lots of people end up
suffering them in silence. You could talk to HR about ending the policy, but
would risk being known to all your colleagues as the psychopath who hates
puppies. It’s much better to try to subvert the system. My advice is to say
that you need to bring another type of much less acceptable animal to the
office. If pressed, use the word “wellness” and hint at discrimination if they
do not seem keen. With luck they will reach the conclusion that it is best
simply to ban all pets.
No. There is very little evidence that the use of drugs in the workplace
genuinely increases creativity—and lots of experience to suggest that they
make you do things you later greatly regret. If you want to ingest
psychedelics, my advice is to do it at home. If you want to be more creative
in your thinking, go for a long walk. And if you want to bond with your
colleagues, do great work together. Tell her you are on other medication and
cannot participate.
I have noticed that about five minutes before the end of one of my regular
weekly meetings, the person chairing it will say, “I’m conscious of time”.
Aren’t we all?
A colleague of mine has started bringing a skunk to work. She claims that it
is her comfort skunk. I asked HR whether this was really allowed and they
started muttering some twaddle about dogs and discrimination; they also
said that the skunk’s scent glands had been removed. I don’t mind having
animals in the office but this is ridiculous. Lots of my colleagues agree.
What can I do?
“Schedule send” is a good thing but it moves work around rather than
reducing it. So unless people stop working at the weekends altogether, their
efforts will eventually affect you. Your only real option is to tell people
what time you want the assault to begin.
I wrote to you before about my boss’s plans to have a ketamine retreat. For
the past few weeks I have been having the weirdest hallucinations. I
regularly imagine there is a skunk in the lift. Yesterday I could swear a man
came to our staff meeting with a grim expression and a Vietnamese pot-
bellied pig. Is it possible that she is drugging us without our permission?
I have good reason to believe that you are not hallucinating and that
something else explains what you are seeing. Please try not to worry about
it. And if anyone from a different office ever has problems they want to
share with me, do feel free to write. Till later in the year. MF
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Schumpeter
After rejecting a takeover proposal from BHP, the world’s biggest miner,
Anglo American announced a radical restructuring of its business on May
14th. As well as selling its coal, nickel and platinum operations, the British
mining firm will shed its 85% stake in De Beers (Botswana, where its
richest diamond mines are located, owns the rest). BHP has until May 29th
to make a new offer for Anglo. Whatever happens, De Beers’s change of
ownership will mark the end of one of its most enduring relationships—
Ernest Oppenheimer, Anglo American’s founder, joined the company’s
board in 1926. For the industry, it signals the biggest shake-up since 2000,
when De Beers abandoned its policy of trying to control diamond prices by
managing supply.
Anglo could hardly have chosen a worse time to sell its diamond operation.
De Beers’s revenue fell by a third last year and Anglo marked down the
value of its investment by $1.6bn, to $7.6bn. Sales at its April “sight”—an
event where De Beers offloads its rough diamonds—were $445m, down
18% year on year. The company blames weak consumer demand in
America and China. More worrying still is the threat from man-made
diamonds. Lab-grown stones, made using a hot, gassy process called
“chemical vapour deposition”, are essentially identical to the ones De Beers
pulls from the ground—but cost around a fifth as much.
These brilliant creations are now bulldozing parts of the diamond business.
According to Paul Zimnisky, an industry analyst, they will account for a
fifth of the value of diamond jewellery sales globally this year. Consumers
who many in the industry expected to remain loyal to the mystique of a
billion-year-old diamond are increasingly turning to the lab-grown variety.
Edahn Golan, another analyst, says that in America nearly half of the
diamond engagement rings sold this year contain a lab-grown stone.
Pandora, a big Danish jeweller, saw sales of lab-grown sparklers soar by
87%, year on year, during the first quarter.
De Beers must also rediscover its flair for marketing. During the 20th
century the firm spent lavishly on ads that extolled diamonds—and not just
those sold by De Beers (though that used to be most of them). Faced with
protests against blood diamonds, it deftly promoted itself as a supplier of
the conflict-free variety. Yet its marketing muscle has atrophied. The
Natural Diamond Council, a coalition of firms formed in 2015 to pool
hawking resources, has lost the help of Alrosa, a big Russian miner under
sanctions.
“A diamond from the mine is for ever” would be a less catchy slogan than
the 1947 original. Some of De Beers’s actual attempts have been even
worse. When launching Lightbox, it promised something that “may not be
for ever, but is perfect for right now”. Such a brutally unromantic sentiment
may succeed in turning would-be grooms off a lab-grown stone. But the
company must still convince them to pay up for the original. The dripped-
out rapper conjured by the company’s boast that diamonds are “Nature’s
mic drop” does little to sell the permanence of their bling.
That leaves two other sorts of buyers, if De Beers is to avoid going it alone
on the public markets. Among financial investors, sovereign wealth funds
from the Middle East are the favourites. Their coffers are deep and Dubai is
fast emerging as a hub for the diamond trade owing to its proximity to India
and lax regulations. Another option would be for De Beers to become
integrated into a luxury giant. The chairman of Richemont, owner of
Cartier, has already ruled out making an offer. LVMH could conceivably
combine De Beers with Tiffany, the jewellery business it bought in 2021.
There, at least, is an outfit familiar with glittery goods—and the gaudy
prices that come with them. ■
THREE DECADES ago, when women now entering their 40s became
fertile, East Asian governments had reason to celebrate. If a South Korean
woman behaved the same way as her older compatriots, she would emerge
from her childbearing years with 1.7 offspring on average, down from 4.5
in 1970. Across the region, policymakers had brought down teenage
pregnancies dramatically. The drop in birth rates, which occurred over the
span of a single generation, was a stunning success. That was until it carried
on. And on.
A South Korean woman who is now becoming fertile will have on average
just 0.7 children during her childbearing years if she follows the example of
her older peers. Since 2006 the country’s government has spent around
$270bn, or just over 1% of GDP a year, on baby-making incentives, such as
tax breaks for parents, maternity care and even state-sponsored dating.
When birth rates first began to fall, few could have imagined how much
harder it would be to get women to have more children, rather than fewer.
Officials would love just some of the “missing” births back.
What began in East Asia is increasingly true elsewhere, too. The world
faces a shortage of babies. Among rich countries, only Israel is having
enough children to stop its population from shrinking, and in most places
birth rates are falling (see charts 1 and 2). As a consequence, the great and
the good are growing worried. “A nation’s strength”, warns Emmanuel
Macron, France’s president, “lies in its ability to generate a dynamic birth
rate.” Elon Musk, owner of Tesla and X, predicts the end of civilisation.
Some schemes that try to re-engineer society also backfire. In the OECD
extending maternity leave prompts women to delay having their first child,
and to have fewer over their lifetime, possibly because the increased time
off means more workplace stigma. Heterosexual couples in which a man
takes paternity leave are less likely to have another child, perhaps because
some men find themselves less suited to hands-on parenting than they
imagined.
Governments that simply put cash in the pockets of new parents, and allow
them to decide on their own priorities, may have more luck. Guy Laroque
of University College London and co-authors find that French income-tax
breaks are likely to raise the number of children a woman has. Monthly
payments in Israel will probably have similar effects, according to Alma
Cohen of Tel Aviv University and colleagues. But not only do such policies
have a relatively small impact, they are also fabulously expensive, as lots of
cash goes to parents who would have had children regardless of the
financial incentives available. Each child that resulted from Family 500+, in
the years from the Polish financial-bonus scheme’s introduction in 2016 to
2019, cost $1m. In France each extra child over the past decade has cost
twice that.
The thinking behind such policies dates back to the entrance of women into
the workforce en masse, which happened at around the same time as birth
rates started their long decline. Gary Becker, a Nobel-prizewinning
economist, suggested in the 1960s that the best way to consider children is
as goods that parents purchase according to how many they can afford, both
in terms of time and money. Easing the burden of a career and expanding
household budgets should therefore boost childbearing, he concluded.
Yet the reality of the fall in fertility rates is more complex. For the most
part, it does not reflect changing habits among professionals, as Becker’s
theories would suggest. Instead, birth rates have collapsed because young
women are not having as many children. In 1960 American women had on
average 3.6 children. In 2023 they had 1.6. Remarkably, women aged 30
and above are having more children. It is only younger women who are
having fewer (see chart 4).
Meanwhile, there is little evidence that middle-class women wish they had
many more children, which would at least suggest they might be open to
official persuasion. Today, at the age of 24, college-educated American
women want on average 2.2 children—roughly as many as previous
generations. They will now have these children a little later than before,
with the first arriving at the age of 30, compared with 28 in 2000. Although
trends suggest that they will fall short of their ideal family size, the gap may
be the same as for women in previous generations, who missed the target by
an average of 0.25 children.
Birth rates in America, Europe and East Asia have fallen far enough that not
even appealing to women whose fertility reacts most strongly to incentives
is going to stop populations from shrinking. But by 2050 more than three-
quarters of the world’s women will be reproducing below replacement rate,
according to forecasts published by the Lancet, a medical journal. Even if
governments are unable to turbocharge birth rates overnight, they will not
stand idle. Pro-natal policies are only going to gather momentum.
Missing storks
Will governments other than the likes of Hungary’s and Russia’s start to
target incentives at younger, poorer women? Childbearing produces positive
externalities for society. As the sclerotic economies of East Asia are
discovering, shrinking populations mean less innovation, manpower and tax
revenue. Parents are expected to shoulder most of the cost of children,
which is a particular burden for poorer ones. And political calculation may
come into play. Few governments lose votes because their handouts are too
generous.
Yet some considerations should give politicians pause. The extra children
produced by targeted policies will probably not turn into the productivity-
boosting professionals that governments most desire. Only 8% of the
children of American-born non-college-educated parents are themselves
expected to obtain a bachelor’s degree, and during his or her adult life the
average high-school graduate boosts the public finances by less than a tenth
of the net contribution of a college graduate. Therefore the financial
benefits of pro-natal policies aimed at working-class women would
probably be overwhelmed by their costs, given the expense associated with
even well-targeted programmes. The best hope for such policies would lie
in boosting the life outcomes of extra children. Early evidence from trials
such as the one in Flint and covid-19 assistance programmes suggests that
cash transfers lift children’s performance in early schooling and improve
access to health care.
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Trade wars
But China has started to fight back. To reverse an economic slowdown and
cement its control over global supply chains, its leaders have launched an
investment spree in high-tech goods, such as batteries, electric vehicles and
other green devices. Weak domestic demand for traditional products, such
as cars, chemicals and steel, mean they are also flooding global markets.
The average price of Chinese manufactured exports fell by nearly 10% from
2022 to 2023. China’s export volumes have surged to near-record levels.
On a recent visit to Beijing, Janet Yellen, America’s treasury secretary, said
that the West would not accept a flood of cheap goods. A few weeks later,
on May 14th, the Biden administration unleashed a wave of tariffs covering
everything from solar cells to syringes. Electric vehicles were hit with a
100% levy. China has other options for its exports, however—namely
emerging markets that value friendly relations with it.
As a result, emerging-market policymakers are worried. “The biggest threat
of Chinese overcapacity is to developing countries,” says Jorge Guajardo,
Mexico’s former ambassador to China. In his country, which is proud of its
car industry, the market share of Chinese-made vehicles has grown from
next to nothing in 2016 to a fifth. Emerging economies are thus introducing
import restrictions on Chinese goods, while accelerating a push for free
trade elsewhere. Their success depends on the sustainability of China’s
approach, as well as the deftness of their own.
Yet some Chinese goods are so cheap they have the lowest prices even with
sky-high tariffs. Moreover, some products sneak past levies because they
are packaged in third countries. That is why non-tariff barriers and import
bans are also proliferating. India has launched anti-dumping probes into a
variety of products, including unframed glass mirrors and fasteners, which
it says will protect its small and medium-sized businesses. It has also filed
the most anti-dumping cases of any country in the world. China is
retaliating. Sumant Sinha, boss of ReNew, an Indian green-tech firm, says it
is even quietly blocking India’s access to solar equipment.
Can this cocktail of strategies work? One factor is how long China’s export
surge lasts. “It cannot be sustained,” reckons the boss of a big manufacturer
with plants in China and India. He adds that the production costs for his
Indian plants have recently become competitive with his Chinese ones,
meaning a slow shift in production is inevitable. Others are more
concerned. “I don’t know if China can do this for ever. But they’ve been
doing this for the last 25 years,” says Maximo Vedoya, boss of Ternium,
Mexico’s largest steel producer.
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An aid to digestion
Moreover, the policy was only one jab in a “combination punch”, as Eva Yi
of Huatai Securities, a brokerage, has put it. The other wallops include
measures to stimulate private demand, such as permitting lower mortgage
interest rates and downpayments. There was a new push for local
governments to buy back idle land from developers, with the proceeds of
special bonds that were previously reserved for other purposes. Officials
also exhorted banks to hasten lending to a “whitelist” of viable but
unfinished real-estate projects. China must “fight the tough battle” to deal
with unfinished housing projects and “promote key tasks, such
as...digesting the existing commercial housing,” said Mr He, in a
combination punch of metaphors.
The policy also has many moving parts. Before the state can start buying
properties, city governments must buy in to the central bank’s scheme. In
theory, the facility allows them to prop up local developers and expand
affordable housing in one fell swoop. But in beleaguered cities where
unsold inventories are high, the demand for affordable housing will
probably be weak. Other central-bank schemes, including a similar tool for
the purchase of rental housing, have attracted little interest.
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Soft launch
THERE IS ONLY one problem with chatter about Europe’s “soft landing”:
its economy never truly flew. Whereas America’s growth has consistently
amazed, Europe’s has been miserable. Exclude Ireland, where statistics are
distorted by multinational firms minimising tax, and the EU’s GDP has
risen by about 3% since 2019, compared with a 9% increase in America.
Inflation has been brought to heel, too. Figures published on May 17th
show that the annual rate of price growth in the euro zone remained steady
at 2.4% in April, only a smidgen above the European Central Bank’s (ECB)
2% target. Core inflation, which excludes volatile food and energy prices,
fell from 2.9% to 2.7%, meaning that disinflation is being driven by more
than just the collapse of gas prices, which have fallen to around a quarter of
the level they reached in 2022. Encouragingly, this has been achieved
without extra joblessness. The EU’s unemployment rate was 6.1% in the
first quarter of this year, just above its lowest since the turn of the
millennium.
Europe’s south—traditionally its laggard—has grown faster than the north,
with Italy outpacing both France and Germany. In part, this is because of
the EU’s recovery fund, which was launched during the covid-19 pandemic
but is still pumping out funds. Southern Europe also “does better when
inflation is a bit higher”, notes Claus Vistesen of Pantheon
Macroeconomics, a consultancy, since rising prices make debts more
bearable. Meanwhile, northern Europe suffered more from higher gas prices
after Russia invaded Ukraine.
With inflation less of a problem, monetary policy can now support Europe’s
recovery. A handful of the continent’s central banks have already cut
interest rates. Hungary, which started raising them earlier than most
countries, has now lowered them eight times. In the Czech Republic rates
have fallen to 5.25% from 7% in December. Sweden’s Riksbank, a
bellwether for the ECB, cut for the first time on May 8th. Markets expect
the ECB to lower its policy rate three times this year, starting on June 5th.
By contrast, they expect America’s Federal Reserve to cut just once.
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Buttonwood
In this sense, the battle is typical of those between activists and their targets.
But in another sense, it represents a bigger struggle. The markdown that has
activist investors licking their lips has long preoccupied some of finance’s
best-known researchers. Closed-end funds, known as investment trusts in
Britain, tend to trade at a large discount to their net asset value (NAV) over
long periods. At the end of last year closed-end equity funds were 10%
cheaper than their underlying assets. On average they have been 7%
cheaper since 1995.
BlackRock has pushed back against the activists, arguing that the interests
of the funds’ shareholders risk being trampled by people looking for a quick
buck, who will harm the funds’ investment strategies. But whoever wins the
battle, closed-end funds seem likely to lose eventually. They have found
themselves under increasing pressure in recent years. Other specialist
activists, including Bulldog Investors and Karpus Investment Management,
have deployed Saba-like strategies against a range of closed-end funds. This
year Elliott Investment Management, a larger activist fund, successfully
pursued a British investment trust.
Advocates for closed-end funds, including the funds themselves and
industry bodies, say that this relentless activism is deterring new fund
launches. Indeed, no new ones were established last year, and their overall
number has declined every year over the past decade. But there are other
important factors at play. In recent years, for instance, higher interest rates
have lowered returns on closed-end funds, which often take on leverage to
magnify returns.
More straightforwardly, critics are also winning the argument about the
value offered by such investment vehicles. In the early 1950s, just after
Graham penned his attack, closed-end funds held assets worth almost 70%
of those in mutual funds. As late as the mid-1970s, the ratio was 25%. Now
closed-end funds are outgunned not just by mutual funds but by exchange-
traded ones, too. Among the three categories, they hold just 1% of total
assets. Even before adjusting for inflation, their assets have not increased in
value in 19 years.
Free exchange
America and Europe at least have longer to prepare than East Asia, which is
already starting to feel the strain. South Korea has been ageing for a while,
but only in the past four years has its population started to decline. It will
now continue to fall for decades, as larger generations die off. By 2036
twice as many Koreans will be over the age of 65 as under 18. China will
reach a similar point by 2040. America will take until 2100 to catch up.
Still, rich countries will need to spend 21% of GDP a year on old folk by
2050, up from 16% in 2015, according to the IMF. A quarter of that will go
on pensions. The rest will be required for health- and social-care provision.
It is possible that artificial intelligence and pharmaceutical advances will
cut the budget. But recent history suggests that such advances are more
likely to raise it.
The exact size of the demographic hit does not just depend on how quickly
populations age, but also on what they expect from the state. In this regard,
South Korea has a somewhat bleak advantage. The IMF reckons that its
debt-to-GDP ratio, a modest 55%, is unsustainable in the long run and the
government is still struggling to get its deficit below a 3% target. Yet few of
its elderly were promised state pensions. Instead, nearly 40% of them are in
poverty, the highest rate in the OECD club of mostly rich countries.
China is more likely to buckle under the pressure. By 2050 the country’s
leaders will have 100m pensioners on their hands—all of whom have been
promised a basic state pension. Already, one-third of local pension
providers are running deficits. Economists reckon that the central
government’s state-pension fund will run dry by 2035, unless officials take
action. Europe’s generous pensions, and America’s growing social
provision, mean that the West risks a similar fate, albeit at a slightly later
date.
The size of the hit will also depend on how economies adapt to a decrepit
world. Take government borrowing. Its sustainability reflects the gap
between interest rates that prevail when inflation is stable—the so-called
neutral rate—and economic growth, which boosts tax receipts. Ageing
populations bring gloomy prospects for growth. Research shows that older
workers tend to be less mentally agile, and therefore less productive.
Shrinking populations could be even worse for growth, which economists
believe requires the constant generation of new ideas. Charles Jones of
Stanford University has modelled what happens in a world where there are
ever fewer people to dream up innovations. The total stock of ideas, he
finds, will grow more and more slowly. Economic growth will come to halt;
living standards will stall.
What is less clear is whether interest rates will be low enough to keep a lid
on debt-to-GDP ratios. Perhaps the neutral rate, which incentivises an equal
amount of savings as investment in an economy, will track economic
growth, as many expect. A proliferation of old folk means more people
saving for retirement. And a paucity of investments from young
entrepreneurs means that these savers will have little choice but to accept
lower rates. Yet Charles Goodhart of the London School of Economics and
Manoj Pradhan of Talking Head Macroeconomics, a research firm, disagree
that this is the most likely outcome. They think a spending spree by grey
consumers, fuelled by government handouts to the old, could drive up the
neutral rate of interest. Because governments would then struggle to repay
even their existing debts, they will resort to inflating them away.
There are steps Western governments could take to soften the blow.
Credible monetary policy, which reassures investors that central bankers
will quash spending binges prompted by ageing populations, would help. If
governments were to rein in deficits in anticipation of future danger, that
would make an even bigger difference. Pensions will have to be cut back as
public finances adjust to longer lifespans. The IMF reckons that rich-world
governments will need to raise the retirement age by five years by the end
of the century, even as increases in life expectancy slow.
These reforms would be unpopular now. Who wants to be the politician to
inform millions of retired bureaucrats, soldiers and teachers that their
pensions are being slashed in order to look after future generations? But in
years to come, when the grey vote carries even more sway, they will
become just about impossible—making it all the more important for
politicians to act sooner rather than later. Although assessing the impact of
shrinking populations can sometimes feel like peering into a distant future,
the threat is already playing on the mind of leaders such as Emmanuel
Macron, France’s president. Last year he risked his position by proposing
reform of the country’s pension system, and faced protests that were
widespread even by French standards. Other politicians will have taken
note. ■
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The AirFish is a fast ferry that will fly above the waves
Marine technology :: It takes inspiration from the “Caspian Sea Monster”
Easy breezy
IN 1926 AN unusual vessel arrived in New York after crossing the Atlantic.
This was a converted sailing ship renamed Baden-Baden. Its two masts had
been torn down and a pair of 15-metre-high revolving cylinders were
mounted on its deck instead. Known as Flettner rotors, after Anton Flettner,
their German inventor, the rotors worked like sails. Not only were they
extremely efficient, allowing the vessel to consume less than half the fuel
an oil-powered ship of a similar size would use, they also let the craft tack
closer to an oncoming wind than its original canvas rigging allowed. The
rotors were hailed as a great achievement at the time (praised by Albert
Einstein, among others) before cheap oil caused interest to wane.
More recently, the cost of oil has been rising—and not just financially.
Ships, which transport more than 80% of the world’s goods, account for
some 3% of humanity’s greenhouse-gas emissions, a similar fraction to
aviation. Ports are, therefore, imposing emission limits on marine craft. The
International Maritime Organisation has set targets to reduce emissions to
net-zero by “around” 2050. The imprecision arises because at present there
is no easy way of getting there.
A return to sail has been heralded before as a way to cut pollution. It has
led, in recent years, to renewed interest in Flettner rotors as well as other
wind technologies, including rigid sails, giant kites and tall structures called
suction sails. Yet the marine industry, like many of its vessels, can take a
long time to change course. After a period in which progress was limited to
fanciful sketches and small-scale trials, shipowners are now starting to
place orders to retrofit existing cargo ships and build wind-assisted vessels.
A new age of sail may be in the offing.
Flettner rotors remain an attractive solution. As the wind flows around the
revolving cylinders, the rotation creates an area of high air pressure on one
side and lower pressure on the other. Thanks to a phenomenon known as the
Magnus effect (which also helps spinning balls curve), this pressure
differential creates a force at right angles to the wind direction. On a
horizontal aircraft wing, it generates lift. On a vertical rotor, it helps push a
ship forward. The rotors can be turned at different speeds and in different
directions allowing them to be “trimmed” to the prevailing wind conditions.
All this is done automatically, so no additional crew are needed.
Among the companies supplying modern-day Flettner rotors is Norsepower,
a firm based in Finland. Earlier this year it won what it says is the biggest
ever wind-propulsion deal, with an order to fit six 35-metre rotors to each
of three new cargo ships being built for Louis Dreyfus Armateurs, a French
shipping owner. The vessels will be chartered to Airbus, a European
aerospace group. Each will carry enough partially constructed aircraft,
made up of fuselages, wings and tails, to be assembled into six A320
airliners at Airbus’s factories in America.
Norsepower has already fitted eight ships with rotors and has a backlog of
orders worth €30m ($32m). The ships in service show a reduction in fuel
consumption, and thus a similar drop in emissions, of between 5% and
25%, says Tuomas Riski, the firm’s outgoing CEO. Each rotor costs around
€1m, which he says can be repaid in fuel savings over three to ten years.
Other old ideas are being revived. In 1985 another unusual craft sailed into
New York. This was the Alcyone, a research vessel built by Jacques-Yves
Cousteau, a French oceanographer and film-maker. It was fitted with a pair
of suction sails: tall cylinders fitted with electric fans to draw air into
perforated strips down their sides. These suck the airflow closer to that side,
reducing drag and creating up to seven times more force than a
conventional sail, according to bound4blue, a company based in Cantabria,
northern Spain, which produces a modern version it calls eSAILS.
The eSAILS could be used on almost any large marine vessel, says Dana
Camps, the firm’s head of marketing, although they might have to be
modified for some ships. As the deck of a container ship, for example, is
usually piled high with boxes, which need regular handling, any auxiliary
wind-power system needs to avoid getting in the way. Helpfully, rotors and
suction sails can be fitted with lowering mechanisms, which are also useful
when passing under low bridges. Similarly unobtrusive systems could also
be installed on cruise liners, which now resemble giant floating apartment
blocks, but the payback period would be longer because they spend a
greater proportion of their time with their passengers relaxing in ports.
Some large vessels continue to hoist sails, albeit of the rigid variety used on
modern racing yachts. These, too, work like vertical aircraft wings. One
ship fitted with rigid sails is Pyxis Ocean, a bulk carrier owned by the
Mitsubishi Corporation. The five-year-old vessel was retrofitted in China
with two 37.5-metre-high sails called WindWings, designed by BAR
Technologies, a marine-engineering firm based in Portsmouth on Britain’s
south coast.
The Pyxis Ocean has been chartered by Cargill, a giant foods group, to
carry grain. After six months at sea the WindWings have cut fuel
consumption by about 15%, although the company reckons three sails could
cut average fuel use by 30% or more. Oceanbird, a Swedish company, is
installing six giant wing sails on the Orcelle Wind, a new vehicle-carrier
with a capacity for some 7,000 cars, due to enter service in 2027. Oceanbird
reckons the sails could deliver 50-60% lower emissions compared with
conventional vehicle-carriers.
Retrofitting WindWings
Another option is to tow ships along with giant kite sails, similar to the
parafoil kites used by kiteboarders. In February Kawasaki Kisen Kaisha, a
big Japanese shipowner also known as K Line, acquired a French startup
called Airseas, which has been developing a kite sail it calls Seawing. These
can be launched and retrieved automatically from a ship’s bow, minimising
their on-deck footprint. Airseas tested a Seawing last year on a K Line cargo
ship. They are expected to reduce carbon-dioxide emissions by some 20%,
says K Line.
With some 50,000 large cargo vessels of various sorts plying the high seas,
each with an average life expectancy of 30 years or so, it is going to take
some time for the shipping industry to clean up its act. But clean it up it
must. If their vessels continue to belch fumes then shipowners will soon
find themselves unable to operate within many ports. Though the number of
vessels returning to wind power remains small for now, this technology
clearly has the wind in its sails. ■
Marine technology
IN THE 1960s, during the height of the cold war, American spy satellites
spotted an unusual stubby-winged craft at a Soviet naval base on the
Caspian sea. Was it a boat, was it a plane? Dubbed the “Caspian Sea
Monster”, it turned out to be a heavily armed naval craft some 100 metres
long designed to attack submarines and aircraft carriers.
AirFish of different sizes are possible. The company already has a two-
seater version, even if Mr Tan thinks that would be a niche market. Once
the technology becomes more familiar, though, he reckons larger AirFish
carrying a couple of dozen passengers are likely to be built. Giants the size
of the Ekranoplans, however, would probably be monstrously
uneconomical. ■
Charging ahead
A promising non-invasive
technique can help paralysed limbs
move
All that’s needed is electricity and exercise
5月 23, 2024, 09:56 上午
FOURTEEN YEARS ago, Melanie Reid, a journalist, fell off a horse and
broke her neck. The injury to her spinal cord left her paralysed, limiting the
function of her four limbs and torso—a condition known as tetraplegia. For
years her left hand was incapable of either sensation or motion. Now,
however, Ms Reid can not only move that hand; she can also, as she puts it,
practise the “right to put my hair in a ponytail”.
Ms Reid’s remarkable—if incomplete—recovery required neither surgery
nor medication, but, rather, exercise and electricity. She was one of 60
patients from test sites across three countries to receive a novel form of
non-invasive spinal-cord stimulation, known as ARCEX, pioneered by
Grégoire Courtine of the Ecole Polytechnique Fédérale de Lausanne and
colleagues. The results of the trial were published in Nature Medicine on
May 20th.
Muscles in the human body move when electrical signals reach them from
the brain via the spinal cord. In the case of reflexive movements, the signal
comes directly from the spinal cord, bypassing the brain altogether. If the
nerves in the spinal cord are damaged, the internal electrical circuit is
broken and paralysis can result.
These exercises may help patients perform basic tasks, but only marginally
affect sensation and muscle control. To test how effective their electrical
intervention was compared with exercise alone, Dr Courtine’s team first
asked all participants to undergo two months of physical rehabilitation.
Then they underwent an additional two months of rehabilitation
supplemented by electrical stimulation with the ARCEX device.
Researchers placed two electrodes on the back of a patient’s neck—above
and below the site of injury—and two more by the collarbone or hipbone to
close the circuit. A current was then applied. Patients then carried on with
their existing exercise regimen, completing tasks to improve movement and
grip strength.
Positively buzzing
Why such long-lasting benefits arise is not entirely clear. Previous research
suggests that stimulation may strengthen existing connections between
nerve cells, and encourage new ones to grow.
Cyber security
FOR YEARS experts have warned that a technology at the centre of global
communications is dangerously exposed. Now there is more evidence that it
has been used to snoop on people in America.
Security experts have known for more than 15 years that the protocol was
vulnerable in several ways. In 2008 Tobias Engel, a security researcher,
showed that SS7 could be used to identify a user’s location. In 2014
German researchers went further, demonstrating that it could also be
exploited to listen to calls or record and store voice and text data. Attackers
could forward data to themselves or, if they were close to the phone, hoover
it up and tell the system to give them the decryption key. Surveillance
companies and spy agencies had known about the issue for a lot longer.
Many were taking advantage of it.
In April 2014 Russian hackers exploited SS7 to locate and spy on Ukrainian
political figures. In 2017 a German telecoms firm acknowledged that
attackers had stolen money from customers by intercepting SMS
authentication codes sent from banks. In 2018 an Israeli surveillance
company used a mobile operator in the Channel Islands, a British territory,
to get access to SS7 and thus users around the world.
That route is thought to have been used to track an Emirati princess who
was abducted and returned to the United Arab Emirates in 2018. And in
2022 Cathal McDaid of ENEA, a Swedish telecoms and cyber-security
company, assessed that Russian hackers had long been tracking and
eavesdropping on Russian dissidents based abroad by the same means.
Beginning in 2014 Chinese hackers stole huge amounts of data from the
Office of Personnel Management, the government agency that manages
America’s federal civil service. The most sensitive data were security-
clearance records, which contain highly personal details. But phone
numbers were also stolen. According to semi-redacted slides published by
the US Department of Homeland Security, American officials noticed “SS7
anomalous traffic” that summer which they believed was related to the
breach.
On my main phone
Mr Briggs’s comments to the FCC bring the scope of the SS7 problem into
sharper focus. “Overall”, he said, the incidents he reported were “just the tip
of the proverbial iceberg of SS7- and Diameter-based location and
monitoring exploits that have been used successfully.” American mobile
operators are sensibly stripping out SS7 from their networks, but, to varying
degrees, all still have roaming connections with the rest of the world, where
the protocol remains ubiquitous. Moreover, although the newer Diameter
protocol is an improvement in several respects, it nonetheless “has many of
the same vulnerabilities” as SS7, argues Mr McDaid, “and is worse in some
ways.”
One reason that telecoms firms have neglected to address the issue is that
most attackers have political rather than commercial motives. Surveillance
tends to be focused on a very small number of high-value targets. “The
attackers generally don’t aim to damage the workings of the mobile
network,” notes Mr McDaid. Because the impact is on the individual rather
than the company, he says, “Sometimes, the incentives to put in protection
are not fully aligned.” Mobile operators need to monitor their networks,
update software and conduct regular “penetration tests”, drills in which they
subject their own networks to simulated attack, he says.
Culture
Meet the man causing cracks in the antiquities trade
The art cop :: Matthew Bogdanos employs unorthodox tactics to repatriate stolen art and
antiquities
MUSEUMS USED to make the news for big acquisitions. Today, however,
you are just as likely to read a headline about art being given up to the
authorities or back to its country of origin. New York, capital of the global
art market, has become a hub for restitution efforts. In the past month 38
antiquities were returned to China, 27 to Cambodia, ten to Egypt and three
to Indonesia. All were stolen, according to state law in New York. Behind
these repatriations was the office of the Manhattan district attorney (DA),
and specifically its Antiquities Trafficking Unit (ATU), led by Matthew
Bogdanos.
If New York is filled with art dealers, Mr Bogdanos (pictured) is the un-
dealer. Since its creation in 2017, the ATU estimates it has recovered 5,776
objects worth an estimated $456m (see chart). “We don’t approach you
unless we’ve got you covered six ways from Sunday,” says Mr Bogdanos.
With his tough-guy rhetoric, Mr Bogdanos can sound like a cross between
Indiana Jones and Robin Hood, though his work has also earned him
detractors. “He’s bullying people into returning things with the threat of
jail,” says a lawyer and antiquities expert. Still, many are watching Mr
Bogdanos to see whom he will take on next and how his tactics might
inspire other authorities abroad.
Usually when the ATU moves to seize a work, and the museum or collector
holding it sees the evidence, little or no resistance is offered. That makes
recent news more interesting: two institutions are publicly challenging Mr
Bogdanos’s efforts to seize works in their collections. Since September the
Art Institute of Chicago has been battling the ATU in the New York
Supreme Court to hold onto a drawing by an Austrian painter, Egon Schiele,
which Mr Bogdanos claims was looted in the Holocaust but the Art Institute
says was not stolen.
In October 2023 the Cleveland Museum of Art sued the DA’s office to
prevent it from seizing the centrepiece of its classical galleries, a Roman
bronze worth $20m. The DA alleges it was looted from Turkey, before it
was sold in New York in 1986. Both Cleveland and Chicago may challenge
the DA’s jurisdiction in their states and question Mr Bogdanos’s tactics.
The ATU is not the largest art-crime fighter in the world; that distinction
probably goes to Italy’s Carabinieri Art Squad, which has a staff of several
hundred, compared with the ATU’s 19. What makes the ATU unique is that
it is led by a prosecutor, not law-enforcement officials. That means Mr
Bogdanos can push cases along with prosecutorial powers, including search
warrants on warehouses and servers, from which his team has gathered five
terabytes of data on smugglers. (A single terabyte could hold around 1,000
copies of the “Encyclopedia Britannica”.) America’s FBI and Department
of Homeland Security also track down stolen art.
Some of the ATU’s targets are blatantly criminal and knowingly deal in
“blood antiquities” and looted objects. But others are just buyers whose
paperwork does not check out. Standards for provenance have changed: a
certificate and a handshake might once have counted as due diligence in the
notoriously freewheeling art market.
Museums are on high alert and are paying more attention to provenance. In
March the Metropolitan Museum of Art, on which Mr Bogdanos has
executed 19 search warrants, hired a head of provenance research to lead a
team of 11 people who will search their collection of 1.5m objects for stolen
items. They have their work cut out: the International Consortium of
Investigative Journalists claims to have tallied more than 1,000 holdings of
the Met previously owned by individuals indicted or convicted of crimes.
(The Met says that figure does not match its own internal calculations.)
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antiquities-trade
Mania. By Lionel Shriver. Harper; 288 pages; $30. Borough Press; £22
ARE YOU hateful enough to use the S-word? You know the one: stupid. It
has been banned in schools, its use and synonyms (dumb, slow) considered
“slurs” worthy of expulsion. Even its antonyms are grounds for book bans
and boycotts: only a “cerebral supremacist” would have the gall to buy
Elena Ferrante’s novel “My Brilliant Friend”. Instead, those wanting to be
politically correct display copies of “The Calumny of IQ: Why
Discrimination Against ‘D— People’ Is the Last Great Civil Rights Fight”
on their coffee tables.
Welcome to the America of Lionel Shriver’s “Mania”. The novel opens
with the narrator’s son, Darwin, being sent home from school because he
called a classmate’s T-shirt “stupid”. “I don’t understand the rules
anymore!” he complains to his mother. “Can anything be stupid, or is
everything intelligent now?”
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crime
Back Story
However long the odds, he insisted there was a way to win. And win
Liverpool did, sometimes in adversity. They came back from 3-0 down
against Lionel Messi’s Barcelona en route to clinching the Champions
League, Europe’s biggest prize. Amid an injury blight, a team made up
largely of juniors claimed a domestic cup. In 2020 Liverpool secured their
first English league title for 30 years. After special victories, manager and
players joined the fans in singing “You’ll Never Walk Alone”, the emotive
club anthem which, as Mr Klopp noted, is “a little bit like a prayer”.
Yet it wasn’t all fist pumps and trophies. Most football teams never win
anything. Mr Klopp’s won a lot (as his previous sides did in Germany); but
they also fell short in agonising circumstances. Powered by petrodollars,
Manchester City twice pipped him to the English Premier League title on
the season’s last day. Twice his men were beaten by Real Madrid in the
Champions League final, the first time after Mo Salah, his top scorer, was
fouled out of the game and his goalie was elbowed in the head.
The fist pump and the hug—the one-two embodies the methods of a coach
who leaves an outsize impression on English culture. More than that, it
captures a deep purpose of sport. Yes, it can teach you how to win: the
tenacity required, and the teamwork, and the luck. But, given that most
people are not world champions, on or off the pitch, the corollary of that
lesson may be more useful. As much as winning, sport teaches you how to
lose, and carry on. ■
PITBULL DOES not make the kind of music you would describe as
romantic. Listeners are unlikely to swoon when they hear the American
rapper’s lyrics, such as “I’m the plumber tonight / I’ll check yo’ pipes.” And
yet when a couple start kissing in a horse-drawn carriage in the new season
of “Bridgerton”—which debuted on Netflix on May 16th—they do so to a
cover of Pitbull’s “Give Me Everything” played by a string quartet. Remove
the braggadocio lyrics, add staccato violins and a song can go from gross to
engrossing.
With vibrant costumes and focus on the marriage market, “Bridgerton”
positions itself as a modern period drama. Viewers have spent almost 1bn
hours watching the first season, and nearly 800m with the second,
according to Netflix. The series has sent internet searches for corsets and
wisteria soaring. It has also made string quartets more fashionable than they
have been in centuries.
The soundtrack sets the tone for the show’s blend of old and new
sensibilities. It is full of classical crossovers, with string renditions of songs
by Ariana Grande, Harry Styles and Taylor Swift. Vitamin String Quartet
(VSQ), who perform many of the show’s tracks, saw a surge in popularity
after “Bridgerton” arrived in 2020. Before the show’s premiere, total
fortnightly streams amounted to 3.8m, but they jumped 350% after it.
Interest has stayed high, says Leo Flynn, the group’s brand manager: some
of their most popular songs have more than 20m streams apiece. VSQ
recently announced plans for a tour of more than 40 cities across America.
Some music purists may sniff, but modern tunes help to demystify a
rarefied art form and bring in younger audiences. If “Bridgerton” continues
to hit a high note, it might just have a harmonious effect on the classical-
music sector as a whole. ■
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a-string-quartet-boom
Spice. By Roger Crowley. Yale University Press; 320 pages; $25 and £20
For centuries many were in doubt about the spices’ origins. Marco Polo, the
famed Venetian explorer, thought cloves came from China and nutmeg from
Java. Mr Crowley begins his story in 1511, when the Portuguese began
muscling into the South-East Asian spice trade. Eager for profit, their
Spanish and English competitors soon joined them. In 1553 a trio of ships
left London on a journey to reach the Spice Islands via Russia and the
Arctic. Their voyage ended in disaster, but their fervour is not hard to
understand.
Just as the ancient Egyptians carved reliefs of spice fleets on their tombs,
and the Romans valued them as portals to the gods, these explorers fell for
spices’ allure. “The scent of the clove is said to be the most fragrant in the
world,” claimed Garcia de Orta, a Portuguese botanist, adding that it
smelled as sweet as “forests of flowers”. Others marvelled at how spices
interacted with the wider ecosystem. Encountering the bright green nutmeg
trees, Portuguese sailors delighted in the “multitude of parrots and various
other birds” that swooped and spread their seeds.
With cloves came conflict. In the war for spices, Portuguese and Spanish
explorers killed locals, and each other, with gusto. Soon enough naval
expeditions and the spices and other goods that inspired them would draw a
“maritime belt” around the planet, Mr Crowley explains.
But competition for spices also fired up human ingenuity. Wherever they
went, sailors kept scrupulous logs, detailing narrows and shoals for future
adventurers. As more information became available in Europe—Portuguese
captains were, among other things, expected to record latitudes—
cartography became more common. In 1548 an Italian mapmaker produced
the first pocket atlas. Spain and Portugal each held a master map of the
world, constantly updated and jealously guarded from rivals.
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history
Heavenly hosts
To understand the cult of the host, start with two statistics. More than 60%
of Japanese women in their late 20s are unmarried, double the rate in the
mid-1980s. A recent survey found that more than a third of unmarried adults
aged 20-49 had never dated. Many single women visit host clubs because
they are lonely. They get a thrill from meeting “the kind of men they don’t
meet in everyday life”, Mr Hiragi says.
The first host club opened in the mid-1960s, mostly serving as a dance hall
for rich matrons and widows. Early hosts described themselves as “male
geishas”, says Hojo Yuichi, who runs Ai Honten, the oldest active host club.
At first, the clubs were seen as a fringe, sleazy business. But that stigma has
faded.
Successful hosts are now celebrities. In the 2000s they started appearing on
TV shows. Today many have a big social-media following. Billboards and
trucks display pictures of the highest earners. Hosts feature as characters in
manga and anime, too. They have become “an archetype within Japanese
popular culture”, says Thomas Baudinette, an anthropologist at Macquarie
University. Mr Hiragi moved to Tokyo from a rural area with dreams of
becoming a famous host. “I wanted to be part of a world that’s glamorous,”
he says.
Some see a link between the cult of the host and obsessive fan culture. In a
survey in 2023, 72% of Japanese women in their 20s said they indulged in
oshikatsu (avidly supporting a celebrity, for example by buying several
copies of each new hit). The objects of their adoration were often pop idols.
But some are switching their allegiance to hosts, to whom they can get
much closer. Ms Takahashi says she used to spend a lot on boy bands, but
when concerts stopped during covid, she started to splurge on hosts instead.
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club-in-japan
Indicators
Obituary
Ebrahim Raisi was obsessed with the security of the people
Morality and butchery :: The hardline president of Iran died in a helicopter crash on May 19th,
aged 63
Alongside the foreign demons lurked enemies of the state: anyone opposed
to the revolution of 1979, when the Shah was toppled and Ayatollah
Ruhollah Khomeini established his theocracy. He had been swept up in it as
a young student at the seminary, where he was taught for a while by
Khomeini’s brother and the supreme leader’s successor, Ali Khamenei.
Thanks to Khamenei he got his first prosecutor’s job at the age of 20, and at
25 was deputy prosecutor in Tehran. It was there in 1988 that thousands of
enemies of the state were massacred by a “Death Committee” that re-tried
leftists in the jails and, if they would not recant, hanged them from cranes
by the half-dozen. Westerners said he was on that committee; they called
him the Butcher of Tehran. He repeatedly denied it. But he was sure it had
been the right thing to do. Khomeini had decreed a fatwa against those
miscreants for waging war on God. And when a prosecutor defended the
security of the people, he should be praised.
Disorder appalled him. Acts of chaos were unacceptable. In 2009 he
enthusiastically backed a clamp-down on the Green Movement, which was
rioting against a disputed election. Hundreds were arrested to uproot this
sedition. In 2022 it was the women’s turn, objecting to his hijab and chastity
law with displays of what amounted to nudity and indecency. So, when they
objected, he made the law tighter. For showing any part of the body higher
than the ankles or forearms, or lower than the neck, they would now get not
five years in prison, but ten. He sometimes admitted that women had
talents, and rights, too; at home he had two daughters, and his wife, Jamileh
Alamolhoda, taught at a university. But in public she knew her place.
Sitting beside him, swathed in black, she would say “We want women to
remain women! Why should we be like men?”
His own brief was to run the country, and he did so as a jurist, since all his
previous jobs—prosecutor-general, attorney-general, head of the judiciary
—had to do with the law. When he first ran for president in 2017, it
surprised people. He knew nothing of economics, indeed had little standard
education; after a few years of school, it was into the seminary in Qom. The
Koran, and sharia, were his first recourse: his idea of rooting out graft and
corruption was to prosecute his foes with big, showy trials. He had entered
politics because it was his revolutionary and religious responsibility to do
so. If Westerners carped on about human rights, he retorted that these meant
security. Freedom was not included.
He did not win, that first time. He got only 38%. In 2021 he changed his
tactics, touring the country to talk to the poor. His closeness to Khamenei
and the juduciary also paid off; 600 rival candidates, some of them even
conservatives, were reduced to a handful by the clerical authorities. He won
a landslide then, and fellow conservatives controlled every branch of power.
Rumours had been swirling that he was first in line for supreme leader. Yet
it was never proclaimed. Besides, though he stated otherwise, he was not an
ayatollah, or sign of God. He was merely a hojat-ol-eslam, or authority on
Islam. When Khamenei declared him president, he mentioned this fact. He
also called him popular; but that wholesale rejection of candidates had not
gone down well. Turnout in 2021 had been Iran’s lowest-ever.
There was much to ponder on that flight home. The foreign minister, sitting
opposite, was fidgety; others dozed. But the president stared out of the
window, unsmiling, as the fog closed in. ■
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