Aunque la relación entre China y los Estados Unidos es esencial para el futuro de Asia, ello no significa que la región se convertirá en un duopolio sino-estadounidense. En Asia nunca se aceptará el concepto de “G-2”.

Para empezar, excepto China, el PIB combinado de Asia es más o menos equivalente al de los Estados Unidos, y excede en mucho el de China. Además, Japón sigue siendo la tercera economía más grande del mundo, mientras que economías como la India, Corea del Sur, Indonesia y Australia están creciendo rápidamente.

Bajo la dirección del presidente Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono, Indonesia está a punto de convertirse en una economía de 1 billón de dólares. Su población está llegando a los 250 millones de personas y el PIB anual del país se ha mantenido sistemáticamente por encima del 6%. A esta tasa de crecimiento es probable que Indonesia surja como una de las seis economías más importantes del mundo para 2030.

Asimismo, la mayoría de estas economías dinámicas emergentes también son democracias consolidadas y tienen el firme compromiso de implementar políticas económicas abiertas. De hecho, los acuerdos de libre comercio se están expandiendo por toda la región.

Por ejemplo, el acuerdo de libre comercio entre Australia, Nueva Zelanda y Asia Oriental, ahora en vigor para los doce miembros signatarios, crea un área de libre comercio con una actividad económica regional de más de 3 billones de dólares. Australia también está concluyendo un acuerdo de libre comercio con Corea del Sur y es parte de negociaciones similares con China, la India y Japón. Las negociaciones para una Asociación Económica Transpacífica Estratégica que se llevaron a cabo durante la cumbre de 2011 del Foro de Cooperación Económica Asia-Pacífico (APEC) en Hawái reflejan la búsqueda de dichas oportunidades por otros países en la región.

Desde una perspectiva global, el dinamismo económico de Asia es sorprendente: hace treinta años representaba menos del 20% del PIB mundial, mientras que la participación de los Estados Unidos era del 30%. Sin embargo, en los próximos cinco años, Asia representará casi la tercera parte del PIB global mientras que la participación de los Estados Unidos disminuirá a menos de una quinta parte.

No obstante, tanto el archipiélago asiático como el Asia continental siguen estando asediados por disputas territoriales no resueltas por áreas como la península de Corea, el mar de China meridional y el mar de China oriental, el estrecho de Taiwán, la frontera entre Tailandia y Camboya y las intranquilas regiones fronterizas de Birmania. Cada uno de estos conflictos podría socavar la prosperidad hasta ahora alcanzada en la región.

En efecto, si bien el mundo tiene todas sus esperanzas puestas en Asia en cuanto a la economía global del siglo XXI, la región se enfrenta a la rigidez de un conjunto de desacuerdos territoriales y de seguridad que podrían ser típicos del siglo XIX. Aunque algunas de estas disputas son intrínsecamente internas, en toda Asia hay un interés por trazar  colectivamente un camino común para abordar algunos de los problemas aparentemente intratables de la región para evitar que se salgan de control.

Además, en Asia ha habido avances democráticos así como un fuerte interés por expandir su apertura económica (a nivel interno y externo). En la región también se está reconociendo la necesidad de soberanía nacional en la cual los países no teman la interferencia externa en los asuntos de política nacional. Finalmente, en toda la región hay un interés generalizado por evitar la polarización entre los bloques chino y estadounidense. En cambio, los países de la región del Pacífico están intentando construir las instituciones y las costumbres de cooperación que nos permitirán colaborar en el tratamiento de los desafíos individuales de seguridad según vayan surgiendo.

No obstante, ¿podrán conciliarse los valores, aspiraciones e intereses disonantes de los Estados Unidos, China y el resto de Asia en la próxima década? ¿O tenemos que hacer frente a un futuro caracterizado por las diferencias estratégicas, el conflicto ideológico y los intereses irreconciliables? Estoy convencido de que el conflicto sino-estadounidense no es inevitable, y que destruiría los intereses de todas las partes, así como sus valores fundamentales.

Con la creación del G-20 se dio un paso, aunque imperfecto, hacia la dirección correcta. China, la India, Corea, Indonesia y Australia, junto con Japón, ahora se sientan en la misma mesa a deliberar en temas como la regulación financiera global, los desequilibrios financieros y la recesión mundial. Hasta ahora, China ha tenido una participación significativa y constructiva en este foro. De hecho, sin China, la economía global no se habría recuperado tan rápido como lo hizo de la reciente crisis.

A medida que China busca tomar su lugar en el orden global, también va tratando cada vez más de fortalecer su influencia mundial mediante la cooperación con otras economías emergentes –los otros “BRICS” (Brasil, Rusia, la India, China y Sudáfrica) –en las principales negociaciones internacionales. Es probable que las reuniones regulares de los BRICS y la cooperación a múltiples niveles sigan siendo una característica del sistema internacional. Sin embargo, a excepción de los Estados Unidos no contribuye a formar una plataforma común para abordar los desafíos políticos compartidos en Asia (o en otras partes.)

El ex secretario de Estado de los Estados Unidos, Henry Kissinger, promueve en su reciente libro, On China, el desarrollo de una comunidad del Pacífico. En 2011 se inauguró acertadamente la consecución de esta visión con la cumbre de Asia Oriental, celebrada en Bali, donde por primera vez China, los Estados Unidos y los otros principales actores de la región se sentaron a deliberar sus intereses. Fue una oportunidad histórica para empezar a forjar una mirada común para el futuro de Asia.

La tarea de hoy es diseñar lo que los futuros historiadores llamarían  Pax Pacífica –una paz que en última instancia tendrá como pilar los principios de seguridad común, y reconocerá el poder de naciones como los Estados Unidos y China, sin conducir al resto de la región hacia los daños colaterales si la relación sino-estadounidense se deteriora.

Les inondations qui ont frappé la Thaïlande au mois d’octobre et coûté la vie à plus de cinq cents personnes sont les plus graves que le pays ait connues depuis plus d’un demi-siècle.

Dans l’imaginaire thaïlandais, cette catastrophe naturelle est bien plus qu’un désastre. N’estelle pas annonciatrice de la fin d’une époque ? En effet, dans l’ancien Siam, le fondement du pouvoir royal reposait sur la maîtrise des eaux (travaux d’irrigation, construction de digues, canaux, etc.) et sur le contrôle de la main-d’oeuvre employée à leur réalisation.

L’incapacité à protéger ses sujets des forces de la nature témoignait donc de l’incompétence du monarque et annonçait la fin d’une dynastie. Aux yeux de beaucoup, les conséquences des inondations sur “l’âme du pays” et sur son unité sont des plus inquiétantes car le désastre semble clore, en quelque sorte, quinze années de transformations économiques, sociales et surtout politiques.

LES CONSEQUENCES ECONOMIQUES D’UNE CATASTROPHE PREVISIBLE

De telles inondations étaient prévisibles. Dans le cas présent, elles ont été aggravées par l’erreur de ne pas lâcher une partie des eaux des barrages qui avaient atteint leur cote d’alerte, avant l’arrivée des fortes pluies de mousson. A quelques jours de la catastrophe, un rapport britannique rédigé par 350 experts au terme de deux années d’étude, identifiait d’ailleurs les millions d’habitants des plaines de la rivière Chao Phraya comme des victimes potentielles des changements climatiques.

Mais il faut remonter plus loin encore dans le temps pour comprendre les origines du désastre. Ainsi, à partir des années 1950, Bangkok, autrefois surnommée la Venise de l’Orient, a comblé ses canaux et pour privilégier le “tout automobile”, devenant ainsi une ville de gratte-ciels avec ses quartiers huppés, ses faubourgs plus pauvres et ses bidonvilles miséreux. Ces derniers ont été les plus touchés par les inondations, alors que le quartier des affaires, très protégé, a été, en grande partie, épargné. Par ailleurs, à partir des années 1970, la Thaïlande s’est transformée en “petit tigre économique”.

Des zones industrielles ont été construites, en zone inondable, sur les rives de la rivière Chao Phraya. Ces deux phénomènes ont perturbé le système d’évacuation naturelle des eaux et les cycles de l’économie agricole.

Les conséquences économiques des inondations seront importantes et entraîneront, selon le ministère thaïlandais des Finances, une chute de 1,7% du PIB. La Banque asiatique de développement prévoit une croissance de 7,8% du PIB pour 2010. La reprise est attendue après la récession de 2009 (- 2,3%) et la faible croissance (2,5%) de 2008. A titre de comparaison, le tsunami du 24 décembre 2004, à croissance quasi identique, avait généré un différentiel de – 0,3% seulement. Bangkok, premier exportateur mondial de riz, a vu le quart de sa récolte détruite. La capacité à se relever des catastrophes naturelles qu’ont déjà démontrée les paysans thaïlandais laisse cependant espérer une reprise relativement rapide de l’activité. Toutefois, les produits agricoles ne représentent que 12,8% du total des exportations constituées de produits manufacturés et de machines à 61,8%. Or plus de mille entreprises ont été touchées dans sept zones industrielles du pays et 700 000 ouvriers se retrouvent, au moins de façon temporaire, sans emploi. Les conséquences des inondations dépassent donc largement la Thaïlande et perturbent les réseaux de production dans l’ensemble de l’Asie.

Ainsi, sur 2 000 filiales d’entreprises japonaises implantées dans le pays, 450 ont été souffert des inondations. La Thaïlande constitue la principale base de production de Tokyo en Asie du Sud-Est : le Japon y possède 7 000 entreprises, soit cinq fois plus qu’en Indonésie (1 300) ou qu’en Malaisie (1 400), et a investi 3,14 milliards de dollars durant les sept premiers mois de 2011. Les inondations ont donc été durement ressenties dans un Japon en convalescence après les cataclysmes qui l’ont frappé en mars dernier. Elles pourraient provoquer une nouvelle délocalisation des keiretsu (conglomérats d’entreprises) et des multinationales européennes et américaines, notamment vers un Vietnam qui dispose d’une main d’oeuvre meilleure marché. En 2010, Hanoï avait déjà bénéficié de près de deux fois plus d’investissements étrangers (17,3 milliards de dollars) que Bangkok (9,25 milliards de dollars) qui se situe au même niveau que Kuala Lumpur (9,02 milliards). La dépendance de la Thaïlande aux exportations (qui représentent entre 53% et 60% de son PNB) lui a permis de sortir rapidement de la crise de 1997–1998. Mais celle-ci est une arme à double tranchant, selon la Banque mondiale. En effet si, depuis la crise financière internationale de 2008, les marchés asiatiques, notamment la Pékin, ont pu compenser le déclin de leurs exportations vers les Etats-Unis et l’Europe, tel n’est pas le cas de Bangkok dont l’économie demeure vulnérable. Chacun espère une reprise rapide du tourisme (qui représente 6% du PNB), largement affecté par les inondations.

UNE TRANSFORMATION SOCIALE ET POLITIQUE CONTRAINTE

Un certain nombre de réalités sociales ont été occultées par la transformation économique de la Thaïlande. En l’espace d’une ou deux générations, le pays, essentiellement agricole, s’est fortement industrialisé : l’industrie manufacturière, des transports et de la communication représentent aujourd’hui 49% du PNB, pour moins de 10% pour l’agriculture et la pêche. Ainsi, 39% de la population active travaillent dans l’agriculture contre 17% dans l’industrie, le secteur des transports et la communication. Il est également difficile d’établir une frontière stricte entre population rurale et urbaine. Tout comme en Chine de nos jours ou en Europe pendant la première phase de la révolution industrielle, les ouvriers sont aussi des paysans. Les personnes qui résident dans les villages vivent en partie grâce aux transferts d’argent des membres de la famille employés dans l’industrie ou dans le secteur des services et rentrent régulièrement dans leurs villages pour travailler la terre. Les ouvriers du bâtiment reviennent notamment pendant la période des récoltes.
De surcroît, les inégalités sont criantes entre la région de Bangkok et celles du Nord et du Nord-Est du pays. En 2010, la capitale concentrait 48% du PNB et les habitants y disposaient d’un revenu par tête huit fois supérieur à celui des habitants des zones les plus pauvres du pays dont les populations émigrent vers Bangkok et les provinces alentour.

Entassées dans les quartiers pauvres et les bidonvilles de la capitale, elles ont été les premières touchées par des inondations, dont les quartiers les plus riches ayant été préservés. En contribuant à la victoire du Phuea Thai (Pour les Thaïlandais), parti dirigé par Yingluck Shinawatra, soeur de leur héros, Thaksin Shinawatra, Premier ministre de 2000 à 2006 actuellement en exil à Dubaï, les migrants espéraient pourtant avoir enfin retrouvé un dirigeant qui se préoccupe de leurs intérêts.
Depuis 1932 et la fin de la monarchie, la Thaïlande peine à trouver son équilibre et balance entre régime autoritaire et démocratie. Le pays a connu neuf coups d’Etat aboutis, onze tentatives avortées et dix-huit Constitutions dont la dernière date de 2007. En 1992 après l’intervention du roi en faveur d’un gouvernement formé par des experts, l’ère des régimes militaires a semblé révolue.

En 1998, le pays s’est doté d’une Loi fondamentale qui instaurait des mesures contre l’achat de voix aux élections et d’autres formes de corruption. Dans le même temps, les tensions se sont accentuées entre les élites de Bangkok et un nouveau groupe formé d’hommes politiques et d’hommes d’affaires s’est formé. Basé à Chiang Mai, il est dirigé par l’emblématique Thaksin Shinawatra, ancien officier de police, magnat des médias, l’homme le plus riche de la Thaïlande, une sorte de Berlusconi thaïlandais. Dès 2000, son parti Thai Rak Thai (Les Thaïlandais qui aiment les Thaïlandais) a remporté la majorité absolue au parlement, une performance rééditée quatre ans plus tard.

Plébiscité par ses partisans qui le voient comme le premier homme politique à s’intéresser aux problèmes du petit peuple, Thaksin Shinawatra proposait un programme populiste qu’il a largement appliqué. Mais l’élite dirigeante de Bangkok n’a jamais accepté sa légitimité.

Renversé en septembre 2005 à la suite d’un coup d’Etat soutenu par le Parti démocrate alors dans l’opposition, les proches de la famille royale et la classe moyenne de Bangkok, Thaksin Shinawatra est accusé de corruption et contraint à l’exil.

Ses partisans, qui s’appuient sur les catégories sociales les plus défavorisées ont su résister. Malgré l’interdiction du parti Thai Rak Thai et l’éviction du parlement de cent huit de ses députés, le Parti du peuple, formation créée par Thaksin Shinawatra, a remporté les premières élections organisées après le coup d’Etat de 2007. Après l’invalidation de la nomination de deux hommes issus de ce parti au poste de premier ministre, la Cour constitutionnelle a décidé en décembre 2008 de dissoudre la formation. Le Parti démocrate s’est alors installé au pouvoir. Voyant les résultats électoraux bafoués par l’establishment de Bangkok les chemises rouges ont occupé le centre de la capitale. Ce mouvement a été violemment réprimé faisant plus de 90 morts et presque 1 400 blessés. Au final, les manoeuvres politiciennes et la violence se sont révélés contreproductifs puisque le Phuea Thai a remporté la majorité absolue aux élections législatives du 3 juillet dernier. La formation est dirigée par la soeur cadette de Thaksin, Yingluck, qui se présente comme le “clone” de son frère. La nouvelle premier ministre a formé un gouvernement de coalition avec quatre autres partis qui lui assure une majorité de 299 sièges sur les 500 que compte le parlement. Inspirée par le succès de son frère – et pour certains téléguidée par lui –, Yingluck Shinawatra, ancienne femme d’affaires, novice en politique, a présenté un programme populiste préconisant une augmentation de 40% du salaire minimum (pour 25% pour les Démocrates) La carte des résultats électoraux révèle une Thaïlande coupée en deux avec Bangkok et le Sud acquis à l’opposition et le reste du pays favorable au Phuea Thai. Devant la nette victoire de Yingluck Shinawatra, l’armée n’a pas eu d’autre choix que d’accepter le résultat du scrutin. Mais, comme l’a écrit le Bangkok Post, Thaksin et ses partisans suscitent toujours la haine de la bourgeoisie de Bangkok qui aime à qualifier ces derniers de ” buffles “. De toute évidence, Yingluck marche sur un champ de mines et fait l’objet de nombreuses attaques dans sa gestion des inondations. L’armée et le gouverneur démocrate de Bangkok, Sukhumbhand Paribatra, ont ignoré ses ordres. Loin du sursaut d’unité nationale qu’on aurait pu espérer face à une calamité nationale de cette ampleur, on constate au contraire que les clivages sociaux et politiques restent les plus forts.

La vision du palais royal de Bangkok envahi par les eaux a fortement marqué les esprits. La question se pose : assistons-nous à la fin du règne de la dynastie Chakri ? On dit le roi mourant et le peuple thaïlandais semble peu apprécier le prince héritier. Par ailleurs, le coup d’Etat de septembre 2006, considéré comme royaliste, et la répression violente des manifestations des chemises rouges en avril 2010 a mis fin à un tabou et libéré le débat sur le rôle de la monarchie. En témoigne l’augmentation considérable du nombre de procès pour lèse-majesté : cinq à six par an avant 2005, 478 pour la seule année 2010. A cette forme de censure s’ajoute celle du Bureau de prévention et de suppression des crimes informatiques, organisme qui bloque les sites Internet qui critiquent la monarchie (60 000 pages fermées depuis 2007). La société thaïlandaise est à la recherche d’un nouveau contrat social, d’un ordre politique plus juste et plus respectueux de la démocratie et d’un partage plus équitable des richesses du pays.

Underlying the debate raging over British aid to India is the myth that the subcontinent’s strong, market-driven growth of the past two decades has pulled hundreds of millions out of poverty. The economy is taking off; its people no longer need much aid, it is said.

In reality, since 1991, during which time India has experienced the highest growth in recent history, there has been no significant reduction in poverty or hunger. Two in every five children remain malnourished. A third of adults have an abnormally low body-mass index. Half of women of childbearing age are anaemic, a proportion far higher than in sub-Saharan Africa. More than 500 million Indians have no electricity, and less than a third have toilets.

The neoliberal policies unleashed by the prime minister, Manmohan Singh, when he was finance minister in the early 90s, have widened class disparities obscenely. Numbers such as 8% growth, and the fact there are 153,000 dollar millionaires, mean little to most Indians. The Ambani, Mittal and Tata families don’t live on their planet.

The debate in the UK was fuelled by anger at India’s decision to buy French Rafale jets rather than the Eurofighter Typhoon, prompting shrill accusations of “ingratitude”. International development secretary Andrew Mitchell even admitted that the focus of aid to India included “seeking to sell the Typhoon” – in violation of the stated rationale of British overseas aid, to fight poverty and promote health and education.

So if India can spend billions on nuclear weapons, aircraft carriers and nuclear submarines, and on a moon mission, does it deserve aid? As was revealed this weekend, India has itself told Britain it doesn’t want aid.

But this confuses the nature of aid – which is about poor people, not poor countries. Many Indians question the government’s ballooning military expenditure, which has more than tripled since the 1998 nuclear blasts. Instead they want substantially improved public services, including food security, drinking water, healthcare (India’s public health spending proportionate to GDP is among the world’s lowest), sanitation, and education at affordable prices. Great struggles are under way on these issues, which have the potential to reshape Indian politics.

Besides, aid is much less wasteful than commonly thought. A small part of the international development department’s budget might go towards GPS devices on buses in Bhopal, with dubious benefits. But more than 60% has gone in recent years into education and healthcare.

In 2003, India kicked out all but six aid donors in a fit of pique. The Bharatiya Janata Party-led government was upset at the worldwide criticism of the 2002 Gujarat pogrom of Muslims and some EU countries’ efforts to support the victims. Such refusal of aid is morally reprehensible in itself. A government which presides over persistent destitution and has failed its most vulnerable people for 60 years has no right to refuse aid which could help them.

And though India has launched a modest aid initiative for the least developed countries, this shouldn’t be cited as an argument to stop aid to India. There are even poorer people than Indians in several countries, but without India’s wherewithal or skilled manpower. There is no reason why India shouldn’t be donating food to Niger or Libya, or training technicians, policemen, diplomats and lawmakers in Afghanistan. This would only be wrong if India did nothing for its own people, and merely exploited business opportunities through tied aid.

Britain would be morally and politically wrong to terminate aid to India, home to the largest number of the world’s poor. Giving aid not only acknowledges the injustice of colonial exploitation, it also arises from an obligation to redress the gross structural imbalances that continue to mark the world despite recent power shifts between states.

Good aid programmes can make humane existence possible for millions who have been denied it. Rather than Mitchell’s aim to “invest more in the private sector” and public-private partnerships – which charge user fees the poor cannot afford – Britain should target schemes with a social transformation potential. Programmes that resemble a sovereign wealth fund and seek financial returns are less beneficial than building up people’s human potential.

La celebración del XVIII congreso del Partido Comunista de China (PCCH), previsto para octubre, será el gran acontecimiento político en el gigante asiático este año 2012. La elección de una nueva cúpula dirigente, con Xi Jinping y Li Keqiang a la cabeza, abrirá paso a una nueva generación de líderes que deberá afrontar los grandes desafíos de la presente década, entre ellos la probable culminación general del proceso de modernización iniciado a marchas forzadas en 1978. La plasmación del nuevo modelo de desarrollo y la definición de las bases de una estabilidad sociopolítica renovada serán sus mayores retos en el ámbito interno. Los equilibrios que pueda reflejar la composición del próximo Comité Permanente del Buró Político ofrecerán señales del rumbo chino en los años venideros.

En el orden económico, todos los esfuerzos deberán centrarse en contrarrestar el impacto de la crisis económica global y de deuda europea y en mantener la estabilidad financiera doméstica. El crecimiento podría sustituir a la inflación como el asunto prioritario de la agenda económica. La inflación, relativamente controlada en el 2011 (5,5%, superior al 4 fijado por el Gobierno), podría rondar el 3,5% en el 2012. Tras la cifra de crecimiento del 2011, ligeramente por encima del 9%, los expertos vaticinan que podría rondar el 8,5% en el 2012 (en el 2010 fue del 10,4). Se anuncia una política monetaria prudente y una política fiscal proactiva. La rebaja en el coeficiente de reservas bancarias por primera vez en tres años anuncia un probable fin del relativo endurecimiento del acceso al crédito. El sector inmobiliario proseguirá su regulación y ajuste con un fuerte impulso a la construcción de viviendas sociales.

La disminución de las exportaciones a los mercados occidentales ha comenzado a repercutir en algunas de las empresas del sur de China, especialmente en Guangdong (responsable de la cuarta parte de las exportaciones del país), originando cierres, huelgas y movilizaciones sociales que se han extendido hasta Shanghai. El primer semestre del 2012 promete ser difícil y lo será también para Huang Huahua, el gobernador provincial y una de las probables figuras clave del nuevo estrellato chino.

El cambio de estrategia en marcha pasa por prestar más atención a los mercados emergentes, en especial de América Latina, y el fomento del consumo interno, que se apuntan como orientaciones correctoras para evitar una ralentización pronunciada del crecimiento con el consiguiente agravamiento de las tensiones sociales. El aumento de los costos laborales, la apreciación del yuan y la desaceleración de las exportaciones auguran tiempos difíciles en el sur del país, uno de los principales motores de su transformación.

Taiwán, la provincia rebelde, celebró unas elecciones decisivas el 14 de enero y ha puesto a prueba la estrategia de apaciguamiento impulsada por Hu Jintao, a diferencia de su antecesor, Jiang Zemin, más influido por el lobby castrense. La incontestable victoria del Kuomintang sirve para avistar un horizonte de entendimiento y activación de la aproximación bilateral, que ha experimentado cambios históricos entre el 2008 y el 2010. De haber triunfado los soberanistas del Partido Democrático Progresista, las aguas podrían haber bajado revueltas en el estrecho de Taiwán.

En política exterior, desactivar las tensiones con EE.UU. será la principal preocupación de China. El proteccionismo comercial, las políticas monetarias, Tíbet o Taiwán seguirán enturbiando las relaciones bilaterales. La estrategia Pivot to Asia, reiterada y enriquecida por la Administración Obama en la cumbre de APEC celebrada en Hawái en noviembre último, es leída en Pekín en clave de contención, tanto económica como militar. El aumento de las tensiones en el mar de China meridional con el apostamiento de infantes de marina norteamericanos en Australia presagia dificultades añadidas. La campaña para las elecciones presidenciales de noviembre hará lo propio, convirtiendo a China en la gran culpable de todos los males de EE.UU., lo que dispensará más baches que alegrías, con un claro predominio de la exacerbación de los diferendos sobre las expectativas de cooperación.

La imagen de China apenas ha mejorado en Occidente. El congreso del PCCH puede avivar las tensiones en Tíbet o Xinjiang, donde ya se vienen reforzando las medidas de seguridad desde hace meses, recordando a los países desarrollados los graves déficits democráticos que alberga la que pronto podría convertirse en la primera potencia económica del planeta. Los esfuerzos del Gobierno chino por edulcorar las sombras del régimen, promoviendo su imaginario cultural a gran escala en todo el mundo sabrán a poco en tanto no de señales de una sincera voluntad de democratización de sus estructuras, alentando nuevos códigos de valores que trasciendan esa ausencia de humanidad que parece haber cuajado en buena parte de la sociedad china. No todo puede arreglarse con dinero. Por fortuna, habría que concluir.

China’s behavior during the recent presidential election in Taiwan demonstrates that its leaders have learned some lessons, if only the hard way. They have learned that China can have a greater impact on Taiwanese voters through trade and making people feel richer than by threats – even threats to fire missiles – which had been China’s electoral tactics in previous Taiwanese elections, particularly when a pro-independence candidate looked popular enough to win.

Indeed, fearing the popularity of Lee Teng-hui, who ran in the 1996 presidential election on a pro-independence platform, China’s People’s Liberation Army actually fired missiles close to the nearby coast of Keelung. But this saber rattling backfired. Lee won.

The presidential election on January 14 was the first of the transfers of power in China and Taiwan that will take place this year. Later this year, China’s President Hu Jintao and Prime Minister Wen Jiabao will be succeeded by men chosen by the Communist Party long ago. Avoiding new tension with Taiwan appears to have been a calculated decision by China’s leaders as they begin their own – perhaps not yet fully settled – changing of the guard.

For almost two decades, Taiwan’s presidential elections have attracted global attention not only for the robustness of Taiwan’s democratic culture, but also for the perennial question of whether the winner would seek formal independence for Taiwan. This time, Tsai Ing-wen, the woman nominated by the opposition Democratic Progressive Party (DPP), mounted a late charge on the Kuomintang incumbent, Ma Ying-jeou. But China did not bluster as Tsai surged in the polls.

Instead, China did all that it could do boost Ma, who has presided over a massive increase in economic ties with the mainland. For example, China provided cheap airplane tickets to roughly 400,000 of the one million Taiwanese living on the mainland to enable them to return home to vote. Given that Ma won by 800,000 votes, this tactic may not have been decisive, but it most likely played a considerable part in determining the outcome.

Paradoxically, the strong performance of James Soong Chu-yu of the People First Party, which split from the Kuomintang, helped Ma by giving voters a second alternative to him. And America’s quiet instructions to all candidates to avoid nationalist provocation undoubtedly also played a role in dampening tension with China – another factor that probably benefited Ma.

As part of China’s new “soft” approach to Taiwan, Wen emphasizes “conceding interests” to Taiwan. In Taiwan’s south, long a DPP stronghold, that approach appears to have paid off. The Economic Cooperation Framework Agreement (ECFA) between China and Taiwan has enabled farmers and fishermen in southern Taiwan to prosper by selling agricultural and fisheries products to the enormous Chinese market, and the Kuomintang received higher support in the region than in past elections.

Of course, promoting economic interaction with Taiwan is not China’s ultimate goal; unification is. China’s government appears to believe that Ma’s victory is a step in this direction.

But economic integration is one thing, and political integration quite another. After experiencing the benefits of democracy and freedom of expression, Taiwanese are unlikely to want to settle for anything less than the open society that they have today. Indeed, with increased contact between Taiwan and the mainland, ordinary Chinese could begin to envy the modern democracy that the Taiwanese people have built – and spread the idea of an open society to the Chinese mainland. Ma’s role in his second term should be to serve as just such an evangelist for democracy in China.

Well aware of this “danger,” China is implementing five policies. The first is to expand the ECFA, so that more Taiwanese companies feel its benefits. Second, and similarly, China will try to shake up the DPP’s base by further targeting the commercial interests of Taiwanese farmers and fishermen in the south. Third, China will emphasize common Chinese culture in order to reduce Taiwanese fear of unification. A fourth goal is to win over young legislators elected during this presidential election. Finally, China will seek to prevent the use of the name Taiwan and force the international use of the awkward name “Chinese Taipei.”

But the greatest issue affecting cross-strait relations is the Chinese economy itself. Signs of decline in China’s economy, which has racked up double-digit growth for decades, would affect all of its Taiwan policies. When Shanghai stocks fell by about 20% last year, Taiwanese stocks fell by a similar amount almost simultaneously – proof of how synchronized the Chinese and Taiwanese economies have become. China will not be able to get its way if the profitability of this synchronization breaks down.

So, will Taiwan become more like the mainland, or vice versa? To ask that question is to reprise a debate that was heard when Hong Kong and Macau reverted to China, but that is seldom encountered nowadays. Whether serious moves toward unification change that fact will depend on the effectiveness of China’s soft-power approach, which cannot be limited only to the attractiveness of its economy if it is actually to succeed.

From July 2005 until this past December, China’s renminbi (RMB) appreciated steadily. But then the RMB fell unexpectedly, hitting the bottom of the daily trading band set by the Peoples’ Bank of China (PBoC) for 11 sessions in a row. Though the RMB has since returned to its previous trajectory of slow appreciation, the episode may have signaled a permanent change in the pattern of the exchange rate’s movement.

As long as China was running a trade surplus and receiving net inflows of foreign direct investment, the RMB remained under upward pressure. Short-term capital flows had little impact on the direction of the RMB’s exchange rate.

There were two reasons for this. First, thanks to an effective – albeit porous – capital-control regime in China, short-term “hot money” (capital coming into China aimed at arbitrage, rent-seeking, and speculation) could not enter (and then leave) freely and swiftly. Second, short-term capital flows usually would strengthen rather than weaken upward pressure on the RMB’s exchange rate, because speculators, persuaded by China’s gradual approach to revaluation, bet on appreciation.

So why, if China was still running a decent current-account surplus and a long-term capital surplus, did the RMB suddenly depreciate, forcing the PBoC to intervene (though not very vigorously) to prevent it from falling further?

Many economists outside of China have argued that the December depreciation resulted from betting by investors that Chinese policymakers, facing the prospect of a hard landing for the economy, would slow or halt currency appreciation. But if that were true, we would now be seeing significant long-term capital outflows and heavy selling of RMB for dollars in China’s foreign-exchange market.

We see neither reaction. More importantly, the RMB’s slow appreciation resumed fairly promptly after December’s dip, while investors’ bearish sentiments about China’s economy remain consistent.

In fact, the RMB’s sudden fall in December reflects China’s liberalization of cross-border capital flows. That process began in April 2009, when China launched the pilot RMB Trade Settlement Scheme (RTSS), which enables enterprises, especially larger ones, to channel their funds between Mainland China and Hong Kong. As a result, an offshore RMB market, known as the CNH market, was created in Hong Kong alongside the onshore market, now dubbed the CNY market.

But, in contrast to the CNY, the CNH is a free market. Given expectations of RMB appreciation and a positive interest-rate spread between Mainland China and Hong Kong, the RMB had a higher value in dollar terms on the CNH than on the CNY market. That difference led to active exchange-rate arbitrage by mainland importers and multinational firms – one form of capital inflows from Hong Kong to the mainland. Correspondingly, RMB liabilities owed by mainland Chinese and multinationals increased, as did RMB assets held by Hong Kong residents.

Exchange-rate arbitrage by mainland importers and multinationals creates upward pressure on the CNY and downward pressure on the CNH. In an economy with flexible interest and exchange rates, arbitrage eliminates the exchange-rate spread quickly. But, because China’s exchange rate and interest rates are inflexible, the CNH-CNY spread persists, and arbitragers are able to reap fat profits at the economy’s expense.

Last September, however, financial conditions changed suddenly in Hong Kong. The liquidity shortage caused by the European sovereign debt-crisis led developed countries’ banks – especially European banks with exposure in Hong Kong – to withdraw their funds, taking dollars with them. As a result, the CNH fell against the dollar. At the same time, the shortage of dollars had not yet affected the CNY, which remained relatively stable.

The CNH therefore became cheaper than the CNY. Consequently, mainland importers and multinationals stopped buying dollars from the CNH market and returned to the CNY market. At the same time, mainland exporters stopped selling dollars in the CNY market and turned to the CNH market.

The dollar shortage created depreciation pressures on the CNY, which the PBoC declined to offset. The CNY was thus bound to fall, which it did last September.

Reverse arbitrage meant capital outflows from the Chinese mainland. Correspondingly, RMB liabilities owed by mainlanders and multinationals decreased, as did RMB assets held in Hong Kong. In fact, increases in financing costs and uncertainty about RMB appreciation prompted a partial sell-off of RMB assets by Hong Kong residents.

In short, because the RTSS made cross-border capital movements much easier, short-term flows have become a major factor in determining the RMB’s exchange rate. External shocks affect the offshore exchange rate first, and then feed through to the onshore exchange rate.

The RMB will continue to appreciate in the near future, owing to strong economic fundamentals, but the inherent instability of short-term capital flows will make its exchange rate more volatile. This change is bound to pose new challenges for decision makers in the United States and China, particularly as they engage in a fresh round of debate about China’s exchange-rate policy.

Long the most fragmented nation on earth, China is being brought together like never before by a new connectivity. Its Internet community is expanding at hyper speed, with profound implications for the Chinese economy, to say nothing of the country’s social norms and political system. This genie cannot be stuffed back in the bottle. Once connected, there is no turning back.

The pace of transformation is breathtaking. According to Internet World Stats, the number of Internet users in China has more than tripled since 2006, soaring to 485 million in mid-2011 – more than three times that in 2006. Moreover, China’s rush to connectivity is far from over. As of mid-2011, only 36% of its 1.3 billion people were connected – far short of the nearly 80% penetration rates seen in South Korea, Japan, and the United States.

Indeed, with the cost of connectivity falling sharply – China’s mobile users are expected to surpass PC users by 2013 – and, with urbanization and per capita incomes also rising sharply, it is not unreasonable to expect China’s Internet penetration rate to cross the 50% threshold by 2015. That would be the functional equivalent of adding about three-fourths of all existing Internet users in the US.

Nor are the Chinese casual and infrequent Internet users. Consistent with what the social-network theorist Clay Shirky has dubbed a society’s penchant for unlocking the “cognitive surplus” embedded in net-based activities, survey data from the China Internet Network Information Center suggest that Chinese netizens log an average of 2.6 hours per day online – a full hour longer than the average 15-49-year-old Chinese citizen spends watching television.

China’s microblogs, or social networks, where usage tends be most intense, were estimated to have approximately 270 million users as of late 2011. And there is plenty of upside. Worldwide, about 70% of all Internet users currently engage in some form of microblogging, which is the fastest-growing segment of the Internet. In China, this share is just 55%.

When it comes to analyzing China, it is always easy to get carried away with numbers – especially those driven by the country’s sheer size. But the real message here concerns the implications of connectivity, not just its scale.

A key implication is the Internet’s potential to play a significant role in the emergence of China’s consumer society – a critical structural imperative for a long-unbalanced Chinese economy. With connectivity comes a national awareness of spending habits, tastes, and brands – essential characteristics of any consumer culture.

The consumption share of China’s economy, at less than 35% of GDP, is the lowest of any major country. Surging Chinese Internet usage could well facilitate the pro-consumption initiatives of the recently enacted 12th Five-Year Plan.

The Internet could also enable freer and more open communications, upward mobility, transparent and rapid dissemination of information, and, yes, individuality. China’s leadership has been increasingly vocal in raising concerns about growing inequalities that might otherwise hinder the development of what they call a more “harmonious society.” Online connectivity could be a powerful means to help China come together and achieve this goal.

Finally, there is the Internet’s potential as an instrument of political change. That is hardly an inconsequential consideration for any country in the aftermath of last year’s Arab Spring, which was facilitated in many countries (especially Tunisia and Egypt) by network-enabled mobilization.

While reform of China’s single-party state has always been viewed as an important objective in modern China – from the so-called Fifth Modernization of Wei Jinsheng in the late 1970’s to recent speeches by Premier Wen Jiabao – meaningful progress has been limited. Is this likely to change as China embraces the Internet?

China is no exception in requiring leadership, accountability, and responsiveness as conditions of political stability. Its rapidly expanding Internet community has repeatedly raised national awareness of tough local issues. This was especially evident in the aftermath of the Sichuan earthquake of 2008, ethnic violence in Xinjiang in 2009, and the high-speed rail crash in Wenzhou in 2011.

As the Arab Spring demonstrated, the Internet can quickly transform local incidents into national flashpoints – turning the new connectivity into a potential source of political instability and turmoil. But that has been the case only in countries ruled by highly unpopular autocratic regimes.

By contrast, China’s leadership is viewed with a much greater degree of public sympathy. Their quick and direct response to the recent incidents in Sichuan, Xinjiang, and Wenzhou are important cases in point. Senior Party leaders – especially Premier Wen – were quick to lead an empathetic national response that was largely effective in countering the outpouring of concern expressed on the Internet.

None of this is to deny the dark side of the Chinese Internet explosion – namely, widespread censorship and constraints on individual freedom of expression. China’s “SkyNet” team (rumored to be greater than 30,000) is the largest cyber police force in the world.

Moreover, while China is not alone in censoring the Internet, self-policing by many of the nation’s largest portals amplifies official oversight and surveillance. Recent restrictions on microbloggers – especially denial of access to those who use untraceable aliases – have heightened concerns over Chinese Internet freedom. Such restrictions, of course, cut both ways – potentially limiting personal expression, but also constraining disguised and reckless vigilante attacks.

Filtered or not, a long-fragmented China now has a viable and rapidly expanding network. The power of that network – especially insofar as economic, social, and political change is concerned – is hard to predict. But connectivity adds a new dimension of cohesion to modern China. That can only accelerate the speed of its extraordinary development journey.

China celebró el pasado octubre el primer centenario de la revolución de Xinhai. Fue en 1911 cuando tardíamente puso fin a siglos de feudalismo, abriendo camino a un nuevo republicanismo que aportaría la modernización pendiente. El gigante oriental giró 180 grados con el objetivo de “aprender de Occidente para salvar a China”, aspiración que venía movilizando las mayores y mejores energías del país desde finales del siglo XIX.

Sin renegar al completo de ella, para la China continental de hoy, la revolución de 1911 se asoció a su rival Kuomintang (KMT), la fuerza nacionalista que vertebró dicho movimiento bajo el liderazgo de Sun Yat-sen. Se comprende así que las celebraciones dispuestas por Pekín hayan tenido un perfil notoriamente bajo. Naturalmente, en Taiwán, con un Gobierno continuador y depositario de la República de China fundada entonces, las celebraciones revistieron la dimensión de una gran efeméride. A pesar de tan diferentes intensidades conmemorativas, la revolución de 1911 y, sobre todo, la propia figura de Sun Yat-sen ofrecen un valioso nexo de unión entre Pekín y Taipei con capacidad para fundamentar claves que afiancen la aproximación en curso desde 2005 entre ambos viejos enemigos y, quizá, para abrir paso a la anhelada -y también controvertida- unificación.

Con independencia de las inevitables lecturas partidarias e ideológicas de este convulso pasado reciente, lo cierto es que el movimiento que se inicia en 1911 es parte de un mismo y dilatado transcurso histórico que tiene una segunda estación en 1949, año del triunfo de Mao sobre el KMT, y otra tercera en 1978, referencia del harakiri del maoísmo a instancias del propio PCCh. Ese extenso y conflictivo proceso revolucionario presenta como denominador común el ansia de la recuperación nacional de China, el fin de las humillaciones extranjeras y el logro de mayores cotas de bienestar.

Hoy, tan larga transformación está a punto de culminarse. En lo económico, convertida en la segunda potencia, China coquetea con la plena recuperación de la grandeza que exhibió hasta mediados del siglo XIX, cuando llegó a su fin el dominio del comercio mundial que había ejercido durante varios milenios. En lo político, las cosas son más complejas. A la dificultad de encuentro de las dos interpretaciones oficiales del reciente proceso histórico, vigentes a uno y otro lado del estrecho de Taiwán, se unen otros factores, internos y externos, de notable peso que pueden alargar, quizás medio siglo más, una hipotética convergencia. En cualquier caso, conviene advertir que, al menos para el continente, dicha aspiración es un objetivo irrenunciable. Probablemente, incluso para una China democratizada.

Pero lo más paradójico de lo acontecido en el siglo transcurrido es que la culminación de la hipotética modernización china discurre en paralelo al fomento del descrédito interno de Occidente. A las resistencias conocidas respecto a la idoneidad del modelo socio-político se ha unido ahora, en virtud de las incoherencias afloradas por la crisis global, la desautorización de un sistema económico reconocido como paradigma del desarrollo. Dicha circunstancia opera en un contexto que anima la recuperación de sus claves culturales más profundas, obviando aquella equiparación inicial entre decadencia y confucianismo y promoviendo la fórmula de progreso con identidad como clave superadora de las autoflagelaciones y los contenciosos ideológicos del pasado. El alcance de la modernización pone fin a la fe ciega de otrora en la occidenta-lización.

Por el contrario, sí ha echado raíces profundas una ideología nacionalista desconocida en la China imperial y ajena a una tradición cultural basada en el esplendor indiscutible del Imperio. El nacionalismo se ha ido fortaleciendo en este siglo como resultado inevitable de un doble proceso. En primer lugar, la conflictiva relación con Occidente a raíz de sus intentos de limitar la soberanía china o de condicionar su reemergencia. En segundo lugar, ante la necesidad de construir un discurso aglutinador de un universo chino fragmentado, superador de los vacíos ideológicos del presente pero igualmente capaz de justificar duros sacrificios en aras de culminar el horizonte estratégico de la modernización.

Esta última clave explica movimientos telúricos de enorme alcance e inimaginables hace solo pocas décadas. El fomento activo del confucianismo por parte del Partido Comunista en el continente o la también reciente -y un tanto trasnochada- legalización de la propaganda comunista en Taiwán, por ejemplo, no solo ilustra el acercamiento que se ha venido operando desde 2005, sino que alargan las bases para definir una nueva identidad compartida. ¿Alcanzará también dicho proceso a la aceptación común de la democracia reivindicada por Sun Yat-sen como uno de los tres principios del pueblo?

A partir de 1949, el mundo chino deambuló por dos caminos diferentes compartiendo el mismo objetivo de modernización y desarrollo. Pudiera decirse que con todas sus contradicciones y desmanes, los dos han conducido a la meta, algo realmente inédito. La yuxtaposición de las respectivas experiencias y la actualización del acervo histórico-cultural constituyen las nuevas señas de identidad de una China que ansía recuperar la autoestima desaprendiendo de Occidente.

Aung San Suu Kyi sat in the living room of the home where she lived under house arrest for so many years and talked about the future. She is now a free citizen, meeting with high-level foreign delegations; she’s a political star in her country and possibly a future president. In an interview with Washington Post senior associate editor Lally Weymouth on Wednesday — the same day Suu Kyi registered as a candidate for Burma’s parliamentary elections — she talked about her country’s president, U.S. economic sanctions and her political plans. Excerpts:

In the United States, people are asking if President Thein Sein’s reform process is real. Do you think the reforms are real? And how did your meeting with the president go?

My meeting with the president went well, and I believe he sincerely wants reform. But he is not the only one in government. Our present constitution gives the military far too much power. Although the president is the head of state, he is not necessarily the highest power in the land. The commander in chief can take over all powers of government at any time he feels it to be necessary. That must be very difficult if you are in the position in which our president is. I don’t know how much support he has within the army. He himself is an army man, so I assume there must be considerable support for him in military circles. But that is just an assumption.

I think the president is genuine about reform. I think there are those who support him in the government. Whether all people support him, I can’t answer.

Do you worry that there could be a reversal of this reform process?

I don’t worry overmuch, but I am aware that there is a possibility of reversal. I think we have to work very hard to diminish this possibility. I do appreciate what the United States is doing to encourage this process. I think we here inside Burma have to do the major part of the work.

Should the United States lift sanctions and engage?

Engage and lift sanctions when they think the time is right. The U.S. has laid out very clearly what the conditions are for the removal of sanctions. If this government wants sanctions to be removed, they will have to try and meet those conditions.

One condition was the prisoner releases, and the president did release quite a few recently.

Yes, but not all of them yet. All the major political prisoners have been released.

Do you feel you could you play a role in bringing about peace and reconciliation between the ethnic groups and the government?

I could play a role only if both sides are willing to have me play a role. I can’t just go in because one side has asked me to take part. The ethnics have indicated they want me to be part of it.

I asked the president if he would consider giving you a cabinet post. He said it was up to parliament.

Quite right. Even if we win all the seats we are contesting, that will be only 48 out of 600 seats. The reason we want to get into parliament is not because we expect to do all our work in parliament. We want to extend our activities into the parliament.

Going back to the U.S. demands — what other conditions must be met?

There should be an end to all hostilities in the ethnic areas. There has been a cease-fire with the KNU [Karen National Union] but not yet with the KIA [Kachin Independence Army]. That is a big problem for the country.

Senior U.S. officials look to you for guidance in regard to lifting the sanctions.

What they have in me is someone to give an honest assessment of the situation. The situation in the Kachin [state] is a major problem. If we are to have a genuinely peaceful nation, we will have to resolve these problems politically, not militarily.

The government reportedly has been brutal in the ethnic areas.

Yes, there have been human rights violations, and that’s why it’s necessary to allow third-party access to those areas to find out what’s really happening.

Sen. Richard Lugar (R-Ind.) has said that Burma is developing a nuclear weapon with the help of North Korea.

I don’t know that they are developing a nuclear weapon. They certainly have reestablished diplomatic relations with North Korea. That cannot be denied.

Is it true they picked Naypyidaw as the new capital because of an astrologer?

I understand that the previous government was guided by astrologers.

Do you think Thein Sein is sort of a Gorbachev?

No, because Gorbachev came into power gradually through the ranks, and he had his grip on power quite firmly before he started going towards reform. Thein Sein is in a rather different situation. I think very few people expected him to become head of state. He was not the highest-ranking member in the military government under Gen. [Than] Shwe.

You referred to the fact that the army could overthrow this president. What is his relationship with the army?

He is respected in the army, that we know. He is one of the few members of the previous regime who is considered by all to be clean. Not only he, but his family as well, and that is unusual.

This is the house you lived in when you were under house arrest. How many years did that go on?

All together, 15 years.

How did you keep going?

I had enough to do to keep this house from toppling down. I could listen to the radio, and I had access to books from time to time. Not all the time.

Your family was in England?

Yes, in some ways that was good because I didn’t have to worry about them. At least I knew that they were safe. The first six years I was kept totally alone. The last six years I had two people staying in the house. The first six years really trained me very well.

Do you want to be president one day?

I don’t want to be president, but I want to be free to decide whether or not I want to be president of this country.

If you win a majority of the parliamentary seats in 2015, as you did in 1990, do you think they would let you assume power?

What we want is to make sure that by 2015, this should not be a question at all. By 2015, we should be certain that whichever party wins the majority in parliament should decide how the government is going to be organized. We have said quite clearly that one of the aims of the NLD [National League for Democracy] is the necessary amendments to the constitution.

We have reregistered our party. I went to register myself as a candidate this morning. We have started campaigning around the country. People have been very enthusiastic. It is very encouraging — all these years, and they are still standing solidly behind us.

What about a free press?

There is no real freedom of the press yet. When I was released last year, I think we didn’t have half the number of journalists and publications that we have now. Within the last year, the number of publications have proliferated.

But they have to submit their stories to a censor.

Yes. The censorship laws have been relaxed considerably. When I was released, I couldn’t publish anything under my name.

Do you have ideas as to how to improve the living standards of the people of this country?

We need to empower the people. One way to empower them is to make them stronger economically. That’s where we would like our friends to help: foreign aid in the right way; development aid that is not frittered away to those who are administering the funds.

Do you favor privatizing the economy?

Yes, but we need sound laws with regard to the economy. We need sound banking and sound investment laws. Only a small minority of our people have anything to do with banks.

What is your view of the Arab Spring? Do you think the government in Naypyidaw was influenced by it?

The situation in the Middle East is considerably different. I was heartened that people everywhere want certain basic freedoms, even if they live in a totally different cultural environment.

I understand that when you met with President Thein Sein last summer, he had your father’s picture prominently displayed.

When the military regime first took over, my father’s face was on the currency. It was gradually removed and replaced by the symbol of the USDP [Union Solidarity and Development Party]. All the photos of my father were taken down from schools and government offices. You were not allowed to put photos of my father in journals or magazines. The meeting without the picture would have meant less.

Were you surprised when you walked in?

I was, yes. I had not expected it. My father’s picture was in the center.

Did you and the president decide you could work together?

I felt I could work with him, and I hope he felt he could work with me.

Did Secretary Hillary Rodham Clinton invite you to Washington when she was here in December?

Yes, I would love to go to Washington as soon as possible. Has it changed much in the last 40 years?

Recently you have had many foreign visitors. Hasn’t your life changed drastically in the past year?

It doesn’t seem all that different, except much busier. I don’t have enough time to read.

Do you know how to use a computer?

I do. I learned to work on a computer years before I was placed under house arrest. Fortunately I had two laptops when I was under house arrest — one an Apple and one a different operating system. I was very proud of that because I know how to use both systems. I had no contact with the outside world. But I learned how to use different programs — I would make little invitation cards for myself just for fun. Just to learn how to use it.

What do you worry about the most?

I worry that even those who want to reform are not quite sure how to go about it. There is so much to be done — this is why I am keen on an assessment by the World Bank as a first step towards finding out what we need to do.

Some say the regime undertook the recent reforms because they believe that China is gaining too much influence here and they want the United States and the international community as a counterbalance. What is your view?

It’s not necessarily connected with our relations with China. A lot of officers in the Burmese army have always wanted to have good relations with the U.S. Previously we have had good relations with the U.S., and some of the generals were trained in the U.S. The minister of labor had a stint at Fort Benning.

I heard he is the president’s liaison to you. Is that so?

That is right. He has been the liaison between me and the government for several years — since 2007. A few times a year, we had a meeting at a government guest house.

What did you think of him?

He is intelligent, which is a plus. He has goodwill. He wants the right kind of changes. Before 2004, they had a designated liaison officer. But he was removed. My first liaison officer was a major, and he rose through the ranks. At the end he was a brigadier. I knew some of the army quite well. I was the responsibility of the military intelligence.

You have some familiarity with army thinking?

Of course. And you must not forget that I come from an army family.

Right now, you hope for what?

I hope to win all the seats in the elections, which are very few. They aren’t giving it to us. They [the ruling USDP party] are going to contest this election themselves.

Did President Obama ask your opinion about sending Clinton to Burma?

He asked if I thought it was a good idea, and I said yes.

And you got along?

Yes, she is very nice and very intelligent. I like intelligent people.

Since Thein Sein took office as Burma’s president nine months ago, the country’s famous opposition leader, Aung San Suu Kyi, has been freed from house arrest, political prisoners have been released and the United States has normalized bilateral relations with Burma, also known as Myanmar. This week, Sein granted The Post’s Lally Weymouth his first interview with a foreign journalist. Excerpts:

President Sein: I would like to welcome you to our capital and I know The Washington Post is a renowned newspaper in America. This is the first time to meet with the foreign media. This is our foreign minister, our minister of information and our minister of labor.

Q: The West has been watching the changes you have brought about in your country — the freeing of political prisoners, enabling Aung San Suu Kyi’s party to run in the upcoming April election and the cease-fires you’ve declared with some of the ethnic groups. You have made extraordinary changes in a short time. What motivated you to want to change your country and to start this reform process?

A: With regard to the reform process we are undertaking in our country, there is a lot of encouragement from our people. The reform measures are being undertaken based on the wishes of the people [who want] to see our country have peace and stability as well as economic development. To have internal peace and stability and economic development, it is important to have good relations with the political parties that we have in our country. That is why we have had engagement with Daw Aung San Suu Kyi. In my meeting with Daw Aung Sang Suu Kyi, we were able to reach an understanding between the two of us.

People would like to see peace and stability and that is why we have had engagement with the ethnic armed groups. That’s why our reform process is based on the wishes and the will of the people.

The people could not had this reform process without your leading it. You decided to release the political prisoners, you met Aung San Suu Kyi. . . . What is next? Will you continue with this pace of reforms?

With regards to our future perspectives, we’d like to see transparency. I hope that we can and will be able to maintain friendly relations with countries of the world.

Can you share with us what is next in the reform process? What your vision is?

I believe that you need to know our aims, and they are to have peace and stability and economic development in our country. For the future, we need to continue to take necessary actions to achieve these goals.

You have normalized relations with the U.S., you have released political prisoners and achieved cease-fires with some of the ethnic groups. Do you have a definite next step?

The parliament also made amendments to the election commission law so that Aung San Suu Kyi can contest the upcoming by election [April 1]. Now, The National League for Democracy — her party, the NLD — has registered as a political party, and Aung San Suu Kyi will be contesting the upcoming by-election. If the people vote for her, she will be elected and become a member of parliament. I am sure that the parliament will warmly welcome her. This is our plan.

Another thing I would like to shed some light on is the ethnic armed groups we have in our country. First of all, we need to build confidence between the two sides. We have reached agreements on certain things. This requires the two sides to sign an agreement and return to the legal fold without carrying arms.

You made a cease-fire with the Karen group.

There are a total of 11 armed groups in our country. We have engagement with all the armed groups. We also have agreements with some of the ethnic armed groups. But this is not over yet. We are continuing negotiations.

What did you mean when you said they should return to the legal fold? Is that after reaching an agreement with the government?

This is based on the agreement between the two sides. Soon we will try to achieve an eternal peace in the country. However, this will require time.

If she does well in the upcoming election, would you think of giving Aung San Suu Kyi a cabinet post?

It depends on the elections and if she was voted for by the people or not. Once she has been elected, she will become a member of parliament. All of the cabinet ministers that we have now are appointed based on the agreement given by the parliament.

Would you like to see her become a cabinet minister?

If one has been appointed or agreed on by the parliament, we will have to accept that she becomes a cabinet member.

What is your vision for U.S.-Myanmar relations in the future? What are your hopes for that relationship and how would you like to see it evolve?

With regard to U.S.-Myanmar relations, I would like to make three points. First, we already have engagement with the United States. Secretary of State [Hillary] Clinton visited our country and just today we were visited by Senator Mitch McConnell. The second point is that we are not represented by [diplomats at the] ambassadorial level. We hope the representation can be upgraded. The third point I would like to make is that the U.S. and the E.U. have had economic sanctions on our country. It has been [for] nearly 20 years now. I would like to see them ease . . . and eventually get rid of the sanctions. . . .

Secretary Clinton announced last week that relations would be normalized and that the U.S. and Myanmar will exchange ambassadors.

Yes, I have heard that news also. Until today it has not been announced that there has been an appointment of an ambassador.

There are three requirements that Western countries would like to see us do. First is the release of political prisoners. Second is to hold the [parliamentary] election. Thirdly, to have Aung San Suu Kyi and others participate in our political process. I believe we have accomplished these steps already. What is needed from the Western countries is for them to do their part. In taking actions with regard to the three points I have mentioned, we have done it not because others were putting pressures on our country. We did it because we felt it was necessary to do for our country.

It was not [Your reforms were not motivated by] because of the pressure from the sanctions? Didn’t sanctions work?

Sanctions were aimed at harming our government but, actually, they harmed the interest of our people. Nor did they affect the previous government, which actually laid down the procedures so they could hand over a democratic system for our country.

You are speaking about the seven-step program outlined in 2004?

The previous government laid down the seven-step program so they could implement a democratic system in our country. They have taken the necessary measures step by step.

They laid out the program so they could implement democracy?

Yes, it’s true.

People are wondering, why are you reforming now. Your answer is that this was planned a long time ago and it has been moving along in stages?

When a system needs to be changed, it cannot be done overnight. Some countries that have tried to change overnight have deteriorated. That is why we laid down the seven-step road map and have taken step-by-step measures. You can see we are a democratically elected government.

But 25 percent of the government is reserved for the military, and most of the members of the government, including yourself, are former members of the military. Democracy to us means a civilian government that has power over the military.

The military is no longer involved in the executive body. Even if you look at our parliament, one-fourth is reserved for the military. We cannot leave the military behind because we require the military’s participation in our country’s development.

The U.S. perspective would be that you have to have a strong military but the civilians have to have the power. Our president is more powerful than our chief of staff of the armed forces. That to us is democracy. So how far can you take this reform process?

I hope that you can study our constitution. [Under it] the president has to appoint the commander in chief of the armed forces in our country, too.

The U.S. is also concerned about your relationship with North Korea. Senator [Richard] Lugar recently stated that your country might be developing a nuclear program with the help of the DPRK. Could you comment on this? Are you willing to sever military ties with North Korea?

We have diplomatic relations with the DPRK [but] we don’t have any relations with regard to a nuclear program or military cooperation. These are only allegations. In the international arena, our country is one that stands for the nonproliferation of nuclear weapons. We have always abided by the resolutions of the United Nations and these are only allegations. We don’t have any nuclear or weapons cooperation with the DPRK. The DPRK is not in a situation to provide assistance to our country, and we don’t have the financial means to implement a nuclear program.

Are you willing to let IAEA [International Atomic Energy Agency] inspectors into your country?

We are in the process of signing the additional protocol of the IAEA. This requires a study, which has to be submitted to our parliament for approval.

Is there anything you would like to say to American readers?

My message is that we are on the right track to democracy. Because we are on the right track, we can only move forward, and we don’t have any intention to draw back. Our government is only about nine months old.In terms of democratic experiences and practices, we still have very little experience and practice. I don’t think that we can compare with the United States — a country that has been practicing democracy for over 100 years. For democracy to thrive in our country there are two main requirements. First is to have domestic peace and stability. Second is that we need economic development and we are taking necessary measures for our economy to develop so our people will have a better livelihood. . . . About 3 million of our people are working in other countries. We have about a 26 percent poverty rate. That is because for over 20 years sanctions were placed on our country. Sanctions hurt the interest of our people. For that reason, there were no job opportunities in our country. If you would like to see democracy thrive in our country, you should take the necessary actions to encourage this by easing the sanctions that were placed on our country.

If you want to build up your economy and develop it, would you be willing to privatize some industries and let foreign investors come in?

We welcome foreign investors and we have made necessary amendments to our law as it relates to foreign investment. But foreign investors will only come once sanctions have been eased up on our country.

But investors will ask for rule of law and for courts.

I don’t think there are any difficulties for foreigners to make investments in our country. The only difficulty they [would have] is sanctions.

Are you willing to allow a free media in this country, to abolish the 1962 media law, allow daily papers to be published and also allow for private ownership of the media?

With regards to freedom of the media, you can see that it is not like it was before. We have a daily journal published in our country and [the media] can express freely in the paper. However, we still require democratic practices. The media needs to take responsibility and proper actions. Media freedom will be based on the accountability they have.

This is the year of the “Black Water Dragon,” an astrological cycle that indicates change, but with a measure of calm, sensibility, and prudence. The people and governments of Asia certainly hope that this proves to be the case, but uncertainties – from within and without the region – are growing rapidly.

Developing Asia has performed relatively well over the past two years. It led the world out of the 2008-2009 “Great Recession,” recording 9% average economic growth in 2010 and solidifying that recovery by laying the basis for a more moderate – and, one hopes, sustainable –pace of economic expansion. In 2011, despite Europe’s debt struggles and an anemic recovery in the United States, developing Asia’s economies grew at a more restrained but still strong 7.5% average rate.

The biggest economic risk to the region is that Europe hits a financial tripwire and plummets into a deep recession, or that the US recovery stagnates during this election year. Volatility has come to define market behavior, and Asian markets are no exception. Investor sentiment seems driven by daily events rather than longer-term trends.

If the eurozone crisis leads to a sovereign default, contagion could spread to the rest of the world. In the short term, Asia and other emerging economies could be hit hard as finance dries up, choking off trade and investment flows that coursed through European banks – and hitting American banks that need to shore up capital to cover their European exposure. Any new crisis would thus hurt global trade and Asia’s economic growth.

Still, for the most part, developing Asia has little external financial vulnerability. Many countries continue to run current-account surpluses, and have low external debt and high foreign reserves. Most of the region’s banking systems are sound, with a high capital base and low – for now, at least – non-performing-loan ratios.

This gives Asia more room to maneuver in the event of a crisis, and policymakers would likely respond with available macroeconomic tools promptly and decisively, and collaborate regionally. But we must not forget that – as 2008 showed – Asia has not decoupled from the West.

That is why European leaders must speak and act responsibly, and work harder to resolve the crisis. Europe clearly has the political and financial potential to resolve its own difficulties, with the help of European and multilateral financial institutions.

But perhaps there is something that Europe can learn from Asia. In Asia’s response to the 1997-1998 Asian financial crisis, policymakers adopted measures designed to contract, consolidate, and restructure affected financial systems, particularly banking. It was not easy, but the external environment at the time was conducive to recovery. A decade later, Asia had sufficient savings and fiscal space to stimulate a rapid, solid recovery when the global economy sputtered. Europe, too, must embrace a costly and painful adjustment process as an opportunity to fix its system.

Asia can also help the process of global economic recovery. Certainly, high-saving Asian economies can participate in external financial-bailout packages. But the best thing that Asia can do is to sustain its own robust economic growth. By generating new growth opportunities, Asia can play an increasingly critical role in stimulating the global economy.

That means that developing Asia must escalate its efforts at rebalancing growth by reducing reliance on exports and increasing domestic spending, which would help to prop up import demand. The major challenge is to keep domestic demand growing, despite the region’s strong links to the global economy. Doing so would benefit national economies, bolster regional development, and support global growth.

If Asia can overcome its short-term difficulties, and global financial markets stabilize, the region faces bright prospects. Annual GDP growth this year will likely sustain last year’s momentum and remain above 7%. A recent Asian Development Bank study estimates that Asia could account for about 52% of the global economy by 2050. But that is not a pre-ordained outcome.

In the medium term, Asia faces several challenges, a key one being rising inequality. Years of rapid economic growth have given rise to growing disparities. In urban China, for example, the Gini coefficient, a 100-point index that measures income inequality, has risen from 25.6 in 1990 to 34.8 in 2005. This is unlike the region’s past experience in the 1980’s and 1990’s, when high growth was accompanied by declining inequality.

As a result, domestic inequities now pose major risks to social stability and could hamper long-term growth prospects. That is why governments should seek to ensure that growth is inclusive, with benefits that are widely shared, including by women and the poor, and that these benefits reach isolated areas. Asia’s rapidly aging populations also require social protection, and strengthening access to healthcare and education could help the rebalancing process and contribute to global recovery.

Growing inequality is not just an Asian issue. Inequality in Asia rose after the financial crisis of 1997-1998, and Europe will not be immune to that pattern. Europeans, too, should take steps to ensure that recovery from the current crisis is marked by inclusive growth.

As we enter the Year of the Dragon, Asia’s best contribution may be a calm, sensible, and prudent approach to mitigating any potential global crisis by continuing its steady economic and development transformation.

China’s president, Hu Jintao, greeted 2012 with an important essay warning that China was being battered by Western culture: “We must clearly see that international hostile forces are intensifying the strategic plot of Westernizing and dividing China, and ideological and cultural fields are the focal areas of their long-term infiltration,” he wrote, adding that “the international culture of the West is strong while we are weak.”

Essentially, Hu was saying that China was under assault by Western soft power — the ability to produce outcomes through persuasion and attraction rather than coercion or payment — and needed to fight back.

Over the past decade, China’s economic and military might has grown impressively, and this has frightened its neighbors into looking for allies to balance rising Chinese hard power. But if a country can also increase its soft power, its neighbors feel less need to seek balancing alliances. For example, Canada and Mexico do not seek alliances with China to balance American power the way Asian countries seek an American presence to balance China.

Already in 2007, Hu told the 17th Congress of the Chinese Communist Party that China needed to invest more in its soft power resources. Accordingly, China is spending billions of dollars on a charm offensive.

The Chinese style emphasizes high-profile gestures, such as rebuilding the Cambodian Parliament or Mozambique’s Foreign Affairs Ministry. The elaborately staged 2008 Beijing Olympics enhanced China’s reputation, and the 2010 Shanghai Expo attracted more than 70 million visitors. The Boao Forum for Asia on Hainan Island attracts nearly 2,000 Asian politicians and business leaders to what is billed as an “Asian Davos.” And Chinese aid programs to Africa and Latin America are not limited by the institutional or human rights concerns that constrain Western aid.

China has always had an attractive traditional culture, and now it has created several hundred Confucius Institutes around the world to teach its language and culture. The enrollment of foreign students in China has increased from 36,000 a decade ago to at least 240,000 in 2010, and while the Voice of America was cutting its Chinese broadcasts, China Radio International was increasing its broadcasts in English to 24 hours a day.

In 2009, Beijing announced plans to spend billions of dollars to develop global media giants to compete with Bloomberg, Time Warner and Viacom. China invested $8.9 billion in external publicity work, including a 24-hour Xinhua cable news channel designed to imitate Al Jazeera.

Beijing has also raised defenses. It limits foreign films to only 20 per year, subsidizes Chinese companies creating cultural products, and has restricted Chinese television shows that are imitations of Western entertainment programs.

But for all its efforts, China has had a limited return on its investment. A recent BBC poll shows that opinions of China’s influence are positive in much of Africa and Latin America, but predominantly negative in the United States and Europe, as well as in India, Japan and South Korea. A poll taken in Asia after the Beijing Olympics found that China’s charm offensive had been ineffective.

What China seems not to appreciate is that using culture and narrative to create soft power is not easy when they are inconsistent with domestic realities.

The 2008 Olympics were a success, but shortly afterwards, China’s domestic crackdown in Tibet and Xianjiang, and on human rights activists, undercut its soft power gains. The Shanghai Expo was also a great success, but was followed by the jailing of the Nobel peace laureate Liu Xiaobo and the artist Ai Weiwei. And for all the efforts to turn Xinhua and China Central Television into competitors for CNN and the BBC, there is little international audience for brittle propaganda.

Now, in the aftermath of the Middle East revolutions, China is clamping down on the Internet and jailing human rights lawyers, once again torpedoing its soft power campaign.

As Han Han, a novelist and popular blogger, argued in December, “the restriction on cultural activities makes it impossible for China to influence literature and cinema on a global basis or for us culturati to raise our heads up proud.”

The development of soft power need not be a zero sum game. All countries can gain from finding attraction in one anothers’ cultures. But for China to succeed, it will need to unleash the talents of its civil society. Unfortunately, that does not seem about to happen soon.

Ma Ying-jeou, the incumbent president of Taiwan, has now won his hard-fought battle for reelection. What does it mean for the United States?

To state it plainly, Ma’s victory means one less headache for any U.S. administration, Democratic or Republican. China and Taiwan split amid civil war in 1949. The U.S. ended its formal treaty commitment to protect Taiwan from a Chinese attack in 1979, but it continues to be committed to the island’s security through legislation. Ma is seen as the candidate least likely to provoke China or otherwise put the U.S. in an uncomfortable position. But the final vote tally indicates it may not be all smooth sailing for Ma or cross-strait relations.

Ma garnered only 51.6% of the vote this time; his chief rival, Tsai Ing-wen of the opposition Democratic Progressive Party, or DPP, got 45.6%. In 2008, the charismatic Ma helped the Kuomintang, or KMT, return to power in a landslide election by promising to reduce tensions with China after the pro-independence DPP had held the presidency for eight years. The drop in popular support this time around could be attributed to a third-party challenger, a sluggish economy or some lingering apprehensions about closer ties to Beijing.

The U.S. had pushed Taiwan hard to democratize in the 1980s. But with democratization came complications, the DPP stand on China being one of them. The DPP supports Taiwan’s de jure independence from the mainland — a move that would be guaranteed to trigger a Chinese military attack. Despite promises to behave prudently after gaining power in 2000, the DPP orchestrated a series of “surprises” that included changing the name of Taiwan’s state corporations (from “China” to “Taiwan,” for example), shelving documents outlining a road map to reunification with China, holding a series of controversial referendums and making repeated calls for a new Taiwanese Constitution. Perhaps most provocative, however, was a noisy and quixotic campaign to join the United Nations as a new country, Taiwan, rather than “return” as the Republic of China, as it has previously tried to do. These moves led to an escalation in tensions with Beijing and increased prospects that the U.S. might become embroiled in a conflict with China.

Following Ma’s election in 2008, relations between Taipei and Beijing warmed. The two sides signed a free-trade pact, opened direct flights between major cities, signed an agreement enabling swarms of mainland Chinese tourists to visit Taiwan and agreed informally to a “diplomatic truce” whereby each would stop trying to bribe the other’s diplomatic allies into aligning with their respective sides. More than 1 million Taiwanese now live on the mainland. There is talk of a formal peace agreement to end the civil war. In short, relations between Taipei and Beijing are at their best since 1949.

To be sure, Tsai went to great lengths to appear moderate. She even pledged to expand linkages with Beijing. But Tsai refused to publicly renounce independence as an option for Taiwan. She also opposed the “1992 consensus,” an understanding whereby Taipei and Beijing agreed that there is “one China” but with each interpreting what that means. (The arrangement enables them to talk to each other.)

Tsai’s position prompted one unnamed U.S. official to tell the Financial Times that Washington had “distinct doubts” about Tsai’s ability to maintain stable relations with Beijing. The comment sparked outrage among DPP supporters, who complained that the U.S. was interfering in Taiwan’s domestic politics.

The U.S. stance, however, should not have taken any informed observer by surprise. After all, the 2010 U.S. National Security Strategy proclaims that “we will continue to encourage continued reduction in tensions between the People’s Republic of China and Taiwan.” And this is why Washington welcomes Ma’s reelection. The chances that Ma will continue to reduce tensions with Beijing are considered greater than Tsai’s prospects to achieve that goal.

It is likely that relations between Taipei and Beijing will continue to improve during Ma’s second term. But one should not jump to the hasty conclusion that Taiwan no longer needs U.S. support. Rather, the Obama administration should comply fully with the terms of the Taiwan Relations Act — the 1979 law that guides America’s unofficial relations with Taiwan. Continued U.S. military and political support will help Taipei negotiate with Beijing from a position of strength. Taiwan is the first multiparty democracy in more than 5,000 years of Chinese history; supporting it is well worth the effort.

Tema: En el último año ha resurgido la cuestión de si el posicionamiento de Pekín ante Occidente obedece a una singularidad estratégica de China.

Resumen: Este análisis, en primer lugar, perfila el reciente posicionamiento chino en relación con el mundo occidental. En segundo lugar, presenta un panorama general de los distintos foros y diálogos internacionales en que participa China como parte de ese impulso.En tercer lugar, reflexiona sobre una probable singularidad estratégica en el ascenso chino.

Análisis: En diciembre Pekín anunció la creación de dos históricos fondos de inversiones para la UE y EEUU, respectivamente, y Pekín y Tokio anunciaron que usarán sus respectivas monedas en sus intercambios comerciales bilaterales. Ambas son decisiones estratégicas que se suman a la solicitud de la UE a China en noviembre para que aporte alFondo Europeo de Estabilidad Financiera (FEEF), lo que subraya el creciente protagonismo chino.

Pese a las propias debilidades materiales tercermundistas del gigante asiático, sigue sorprendiendo su posibilidad de apuntalar y estimular a las economías estadounidense y europea a la vez, particularmente si se considera que la economía del primer socio de la UE –EEUU– se apoya desde hace años en la compra de buena parte de sus bonos del Tesoro por Pekín. Paralelamente, para Latinoamérica (entendida ciertamente como parte del mundo occidental), China ha acrecentado su condición de socio comercial principal e interlocutor de creciente importancia, particularmente en un 2011 en el que Pekín ha participado más activamente en diálogos y foros internacionales acordes con su grado de actor central en los asuntos mundiales.

Esa tendencia tan clara del posicionamiento de Pekín, con gran énfasis en el último lustro, ha llevado a distintos analistas a discutir una vez más el carácter sui generis del ascenso chino, que tanto sigue distinguiéndose del ascenso de otras potencias de la época contemporánea, y en qué medida se explica a partir de singularidades de la cultura tradicional china.

Recientes posicionamientos estratégicos chinos

Los extraordinarios datos de crecimiento material de China pesan tanto como la capacidad de Pekín de planificar y reaccionar con medidas económicas. Tal dualidad se demostró una vez más el 26 de diciembre al anunciar Pekín y Tokio el uso de sus respectivas monedas en sus intercambios comerciales bilaterales y cuando dos semanas antes Pekín anunció el lanzamiento de dos fondos por valor de 225.000 millones de euros para inversiones en EEUU y la UE, respectivamente. Igualmente, fueron evidentes las expectativas que suscita Pekín cuando en octubre recibió la solicitud de ayuda de la UE para que contribuyera al FEEF.

Ciertamente, si bien la más reciente colaboración chino-japonesa no pone en duda la supremacía del dólar, marca un hito más para el yuan en su creciente avance internacional porque Pekín, durante los últimos años, ha ido estableciendo acuerdos similares con otros países. De tal manera, que a comienzos de 2012 se ha relativizado aún más la importancia de las proyecciones más famosas del Fondo Monetario Internacional que sitúan al PIB chino en paridad de poder adquisitivo en un primer lugar mundial en 2016, o la proyección de la consultora Goldman Sachs que estima que China lo logrará, en dólares corrientes, en 2027.

No es sólo el poder de influencia que se desprende de las reservas en divisas de 3,2 billones de dólares lo que hace a China situarse a la par con EEUU (exceptuando los asuntos bélicos) antes de lograr los indicadores para alcanzarle en el primer baremo de poder, que es el tamaño de la economía.

Los ya citados fondos chinos de inversión para la UE y EEUU por 225.000 millones de euros,respectivamente, se anunciaron con gran sentido de la oportunidad un día después de la más reciente decisión de la UE de profundizar en su integración. Y es ciertamente más practicable que ésta, porque la decisión de la UE lograda in extremis se traduce en un mapa de ruta en cuyo centro sigue un euro a merced de una impredecible valoración de los mercados y con la autoexclusión del Reino Unido. Lo cual a su vez lleva a una UE teóricamente más expuesta a ceder a eventuales demandas chinas.

Es cierto que Pekín no parece presionar (ni siquiera al parecer en privado) por lograr ventajas por vía excepcional, según afirman en sendos artículos publicados en diciembre el embajador de China ante la UE, Song Zhe, y el subdirector para Europa de la Academia China de Ciencias Sociales, Jiang Shixue. Sin embargo, es inevitable que en algún momento se fortalezcan estas demandas porque hay terreno abonado para Pekín. En éste se cuenta negociar el alcance de la última directriz de la UE del 23 de diciembre referida al medio ambiente y que afecta a la aviación comercial china,pasando por la solicitud de que se rebaje la presión por la revalorización del yuan o que se termine o soslaye el embargo de armas, o la consideración de China como economía de mercado, o que se aumente la cuota de poder de Pekín en el FMI. O que se suspendan las críticas por los derechos humanos en China.

El fondo de inversiones anunciado por Pekín en Occidente potenciará la tendencia reciente de adquisiciones, inversiones, arriendos y compras por el Estado chino y por compañías alentadas por él. En el caso europeo, entre varias operaciones, destaca la cesión en arriendo por 35 años del puerto griego de El Pireo a la compañía COSCO, destinada a ampliar significativamente las capacidades portuarias de distribución de mercancías chinas en el Mediterráneo.

A medio camino entre EEUU y Europa destaca el proceso de rescate de las prestigiosas marcas Volvo y Saab por la corporación china Zhejiang Geely ante la declinante gestión por Ford Motors. También destaca la compra de territorio en Islandia por un millonario chino (tipo de compra con precedente en distintos continentes). En el caso estadounidense el intento de compra de Yahoo por la china Alibaba, la mayor empresa de comercio electrónico china, o el ya citado anuncio del Banco Central de China, agudizan la preocupación tardía de Washington por incapacidades propias para competir en dinamismo comercial con el gigante asiático. Y se agregan al crónico desacuerdo por el valor del yuan respecto del dólar, que entre otros factores ha llevado a la reciente quiebra histórica del consenso dentro del partido republicano respecto de cuál es la política más adecuada hacia China en esta década.

La creciente intensidad de los contactos entre China y Occidente

Las decisiones de expansión estratégica de China al mundo se relacionan con la interacción y acceso a más información que se viene experimentando desde hace una década tanto en EEUU como en Bruselas y en cada capital europea. Por ejemplo, en diciembre se celebró en Washington, Texas y Misuri el cuarto encuentro de antiguos representantes demócratas y republicanos con sus homólogos del Partido Comunista chino, destinado a incrementar los niveles de confianza mutua. Es un tipo de reunión integrada en los más de 60 foros sectoriales bilaterales entre EE UU y China.

Un conocimiento en tiempo real igualmente refinado de la UE ha alcanzado Pekín. Por ejemplo, Pekín ya estaba bien informado desde sus 27 embajadas (y a través de los distintos idiomas de los países miembros de la UE) de los entresijos que llevaron a Bruselas a posponer la cumbre UE-China del pasado 25 de octubre y también de los detalles técnicos de la misión de Klaus Regling, director del FEEF, despachada un par de días después a Pekín a solicitar ayuda para apuntalar al euro. China también está informada por las numerosas delegaciones de académicos chinos que visitan nuestro continente con la misión específica de conocer mejor las perspectivas de solución de la coyuntura de crisis.

Por otro lado, y pese a la suspensión de la Cumbre China-Europa prevista para el pasado octubre y pospuesta sine die, se siguen incrementando los foros que China mantiene con la UE a distintos niveles. Por ejemplo, Pekín toma el pulso transversal del poder de EEUU tanto a través de sus numerosos centros y think tanks dedicados al estudio de EEUU, como a interactuar en una serie de diálogos directos con EEUU, tanto a nivel Track I como Track II. En los últimos años se han realizado los encuentros transversales denominados triálogos que comprenden relaciones bilaterales y trilaterales entre China, EEUU y la UE. Destacan el Trialogue21 impulsado por el East-West Institute y el China Institute of International Studies, así como el más reciente Trialogue organizado en Venecia en octubre pasado por el Aspen Institute y la Escuela Central del Partido Comunista de China.

Paralelamente, Pekín está adquiriendo una privilegiada relación con la otra parte de Occidente que es América Latina, tradicionalmente tan relacionada a Europa y a EEUU. Ciertamente, en relación con los polos de poder mundial importa recalcar el diálogo entre Pekín y Madrid sobre América Latina, así como el que se da entre Washington y Pekín sobre el subcontinente. Pero más aún importa recalcar la tendencia con la que ha concluido 2011, que es la clara acentuación de la relación del vínculo transpacífico de América Latina con China como centro. La baja asistencia de mandatarios a la última Cumbre Iberoamericana celebrada en Paraguay la explicaron algunos observadores españoles como clara muestra de una sobrecarga de la agenda y de una reorientación de la región hacia Asia Pacífico.

Pekín ha actuado con celeridad. En diciembre China fue la única potencia extrarregional que saludó la constitución de la Comunidad de Estados Latinoamericanos y Caribeños (CELAC), que incluye a 33 países del continente reunidos por primera vez sin potencias extrarregionales. Pekín, además, ofreció su disposición a reforzar el intercambio y la colaboración con el organismo que en enero ya está celebrando sesiones para fundar las bases de su esquema organizativo. Más promisoria aún por su relación con Asia Pacífico, y con China en particular, aparece la Alianza del Pacífico, constituida en abril en Lima y que igualmente en diciembre celebró su segunda reunión. Agrupa a los países de habla española más relacionados con China a nivel político o comercial, como son Chile, México, Colombia, Perú y Panamá. La Quinta Cumbre Empresarial China-América Latina, celebrada en noviembre en Lima, no es sino una muestra más del grado de acercamiento Asia Pacífico con el gigante asiático.

O sea, que están dadas las condiciones para que China celebre cumbres al máximo nivel con América Latina, de la misma manera como Pekín ya hace con EEUU, Europa, África, los países de la ASEAN y la ex URSS.

¿Hay una singularidad estratégica china?

Ante la coyuntura internacional descrita y considerando los últimos 33 años de ascenso chino, surge una valoración estratégica nuevamente en boga aunque discutible. Ésta es: quizá los tres importantes polos de poder mundial (EEUU, la UE y China) podrían ser homologables en su dinámica de posicionamiento a los reinos combatientes previos a la primera unificación china hace más de 2.200 años.

Pero, a diferencia de ese posicionamiento estratégico tanto como táctico, ha de recordarse que si bien China ha acumulado el poder que tiene como resultado posterior del acercamiento de Washington a Pekín, en 1972, esa dinámica de ascenso no proviene tanto de utilizar las sinergias del nuevo socio, siguiendo la dinámica del pensamiento estratégico tradicional chino por el cual uno se puede valer de la energía del contrario (no pocas veces para beneficio común). Al fin y al cabo, recuérdese que China no tomó la decisión de ascender ni en 1972 ni en 1978, sino de avanzar. Recuérdese que varias de las medidas chinas se han ido adoptando sobre la marcha y con cautela y no han roto la paz en ninguno de los escenarios internacionales.

La más reciente pregunta sobre el excepcionalismo chino proviene de la argumentación de Henry Kissinger en su libro On China (con sus inevitables lagunas sobre la China profunda), el libro más influyente a nivel mundial sobre política internacional china publicado en 2011. Si nos aproximamos a China en clave kissingeriana significa que aceptamos la diferencia china en procesos clave tales como la percepción del tiempo y el espacio y, por tanto, que entendemos que los chinos planifican y negocian de manera distinta.

De hecho, por oposición a Occidente es cierto que se ha constatado que distintos funcionarios chinos tratan algunos asuntos críticos de manera holística tanto a nivel espacial como temporal, no pocas veces aceptando la continuación de una no solución. Y su actitud ante la aún fresca sucesión de Kim Jung-un en Corea del Norte, o las dilatadas negociaciones de Pekín con la UE sobre asuntos comerciales, lo vuelven a demostrar.

Por otro lado, Kissinger y otros observadores tanto de la dimensión política así como de la cultural indican que los chinos subrayan la importancia del juego del weiqi que, a diferencia del ajedrez, no posee una acción frontal orientada hacia el jaque-mate al rey, sino que está encaminada a rodear al adversario hasta incapacitar su movimiento y en buenas cuentas ganar evitando la batalla frontal.

Sin embargo, a la luz de la coyuntura se constata que las medidas chinas de apoyo económico y de estímulo inversor son globales. Se dan hacia las principales economías del mundo, pero también hacia el Asia Central ex soviética, hacia el Sudeste asiático, hacia América Latina, el mundo musulmán, Oceanía, Asia meridional y a África. La inevitable salida al exterior de una economía que necesita sacarle partido a sus 3,2 billones de dólares de reservas en divisas en momentos que coinciden con un bajón en el mundo desarrollado es pura lógica económica.

Por otra parte, si suponemos exageradamente que el juego de estrategia fundamental de los chinos es el weiqi y el de los occidentales el ajedrez, se puede desmontar simplemente pensando que tanto en el juego del weiqi como en el del ajedrez juegan dos actores, no una multiplicidad de ellos, como ocurre en la realidad en los procesos deliberativos de las democracias actuales y por supuesto que también en la instancia deliberativa máxima que es el Comité Permanente del Buró Político del Comité Central del Partido Comunista. También hay situaciones del ajedrez que se parecen al weiqi porque aquél puede igualmente ser opaco y flexible. Por ejemplo, los movimientos de EEUU de acercamiento al régimen de Myanmar y de apostamiento de tropas en la Oceanía norte se podrían entender como movimientos tácticos dentro de una noción influida por el weiqi.

Así, el concepto clave no es el weiqi o el ajedrez, que como bien han notado distintos glosadores del libro de Kissinger, también lo juegan los chinos, sino que principios filosóficos más generales, como las fuerzas del ying y el yang, del tao (dao), que por ejemplo conducen a desdecirse o rectificar con cierta facilidad, facilitando una gran flexibilidad y profundidad estratégica mayor.

Igualmente, Pekín no dispone de un tiempo ilimitado como se podría entender a priori por la obvia diferencia entre regímenes de dictadura popular como en el caso chino, a diferencia de los democráticos occidentales que se enfrentan a la prensa y a los partidos de oposición. Uno de los argumentos que se esgrimen en China para no atolondrarse ayudando a las economías occidentales es precisamente la preocupación de una reacción adversa de la población china. En verdad, la creciente magnitud de una opinión pública (no de una sociedad civil) es un factor muy importante cuando se avalúa el poder chino, no un mero ardid cínico de Pekín a la hora de sondear a Occidente. Al fin y al cabo, como les ocurre a muchos países en esta coyuntura, tiene un margen de maniobra limitado.

Conclusiones: Si se analiza detenidamente el año recién concluido se constata nuevamente que China sigue posicionándose en el tablero central de poder mundial sin seguir los trayectos de ascenso de las potencias precedentes. Por ello, deberíamos desprendernos de la idea de que China encarna un nuevo poder hegemónico. No sólo en esta década sería impracticable, puesto que sus indicadores básicos tercermundistas (puesto 101 de acuerdo al más reciente índice de desarrollo humano de Naciones Unidas) más el grado de incertidumbre de gestión interna que le plantea el puesto 75 en el índice internacional de transparencia internacional van en contra de su propio poder.

Por otra parte, la notable expansión material china, con iniciativas estatales y privadas de empresarios relacionados con el gobierno chino que siguen el hilo expansivo natural de la economía para asegurar el aprovisionamiento de materias primas y el aumento del know how tecnológico, fortalece la salida del subdesarrollo sacando el mayor provecho en las negociaciones, regateando o no según la ocasión.

Por lo tanto, así como se ha hablado de la “potencia indispensable” al referirnos a EEUU, se podría hablar de la “potencia astuta” al referirnos a China. Aunque sea por una astucia del sentido común de operar con recursos limitados. Al fin y al cabo, los 3,2 billones de euros de reservas en divisas le pertenecen a un país que engloba a casi un cuarto de la humanidad, con una población aún en el subdesarrollo y en proceso de envejecimiento antes de alcanzar el desarrollo.

He aquí la paradoja. China se ha convertido en una baza de reserva para la eventual estabilidad financiera mundial e incluso de la gobernanza global. Pero si bien China parece muy grande para el resto del mundo, éste es aún demasiado grande para China.

Lo que debiera llamar la atención es por qué Pekín se ha empeñado tanto en repetir los errores de las demás potencias en un sistema de economía global para el que no aparece aún la alternativa de la sostenibilidad.

Por último, EEUU y los países europeos más relacionados con China tienen una estrategia para China, aunque no hay una estrategia europea para China. En tanto, entre los países del conjunto de Iberoamérica, sólo Brasil tiene una incipiente estrategia para China. Y ciertamente Pekín dispone de estrategias para cada continente. De manera que el desafío habla por sí solo.

As Asia’s rising powers seek to sustain growth and ensure stability, energy security has moved to the forefront of Asian geopolitics. The recent visit by China’s Prime Minister Wen Jiabao to Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, and Qatar was as much about ensuring energy security for China as it was about China playing a role in maintaining political stability in the Middle East.

The visit came against the backdrop of the growing threat of United States-led oil-export sanctions against Iran and China’s need to secure alternative sources of oil and gas. But its unstated purpose was to bolster China’s rising profile in the Persian Gulf and the Muslim world.

Having faced a pushback in East and Southeast Asia after the US enunciated a new strategic framework for the “Indo-Pacific” region, and given the growing profile of energy in the geopolitics of the South China Sea, the Chinese are moving to secure their western flank. Indeed, in the six years since Saudi King Abdullah’s visit to China in January 2006, China has emerged as the most important Asian power in the Gulf, establishing extensive business and strategic links.

At a conference on “Gulf and Asia,” organized by the Geo-Economics and Strategy Program of the International Institute of Strategic Studies in Bahrain last October, Yang Guang of the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences pointed out that China had overtaken the US as the biggest importer of oil from the Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) countries.

While China is investing in pipelines in Central Asia and Russia, and in oil equities in Africa and elsewhere, according to Yang, for China, “the Gulf region’s abundance of resources, its geographic position, and good transport links make it the primary option on the list of international oil suppliers.” Even as the US and Europe reduce their dependence on Gulf oil, China will remain strategically dependent on the Gulf for their energy.

So will India. Indeed, Indian National Security Adviser Shiv Shankar Menon also toured the Gulf recently, visiting Saudi Arabia, Qatar, and Kuwait. Though his foray into the region attracted much less attention than Wen’s, the focus of his visits was, likewise, energy security (as well as securing Arab investment in India).

Both China and India buy oil from Iran (with China accounting for 22% of Iran’s oil exports), and thus would be adversely impacted by US-led sanctions. But both countries have interests in the region that go far beyond oil.

For China, the GCC countries have emerged as a major market for Chinese manufactured goods and food exports. For India, the region is home to six million expatriates who remit annually close to $20-30 billion – almost half of the $60 billion in total yearly remittances by Indian workers abroad.

Concerns about the fallout of Gulf instability for India’s energy security have risen alongside deepening ties with Israel. Indeed, when Indian Foreign Minister S. M. Krishna visited Tel Aviv this month to explore possibilities for diplomacy in alleviating regional tensions, he was received with the honors accorded only to Israel’s closest allies.

Such diplomatic activism by China and India clearly reflects their shared concern about energy supplies. Both countries have so far gone along with United Nations-authorized sanctions against Iran, and have publicly demanded that Iran adhere to its commitments as a signatory to the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT). But the bottom line for both countries is energy security.

Both China and India will seek to impress upon the US that any action against Iran aimed at preventing it from developing nuclear weapons should not be at the expense of economic growth and energy security in Asia. Given the stake that both the US and Europe have in stabilizing and sustaining global growth, their policies should be aimed at ensuring that China, India, and other newly industrializing Asian economies can take up the slack created by the slowdown in OECD economies.

So, even as Wen travels west, the West must travel east. A trilateral initiative by the US, China, and India in the Gulf, aimed at facilitating a resolution of historic problems in the region, would benefit global growth and stability. As the region’s biggest and most influential country, Saudi Arabia could play a positive role by inviting the US and Asia’s two giants to work jointly towards a peaceful resolution of the Iran problem.

While Russia has its interests in the region, it has little or no stake in arresting the rise in oil prices that instability in the Gulf would trigger. China and India, on the other hand, would be badly affected by another surge in oil prices.

India can ill afford a further economic slowdown, with GDP growth this year forecast to fall to 7.5%, compared to the five-year average of 9% in 2003-08, while inflation remains high, partly owing to rising energy prices. Deepening malaise there and in China would disrupt global growth at a time when Europe remains mired in crisis.

The US, too, cannot afford military conflict in the Gulf, given its need to shore up the domestic foundations of its economic power. As a result, the time is ripe for fresh ideas and innovative initiatives aimed at addressing Asia’s energy-security concerns in the Middle East. Increasingly, those ideas and initiatives will come from Asia itself.

Durante un almuerzo reciente con el embajador de Nueva Zelanda en Estados Unidos, Mike Moore, China se convirtió en el centro de la discusión. El embajador, que tuvo ocasión de supervisar la entrada de dicho país en la Organización Mundial de Comercio cuando era su director general, afirmó que el experimento había sido un éxito. La incorporación de China había ayudado a sacar a 500 millones de personas (muchas de ellas chinas) de la pobreza, aseguró.

Esta es una opinión que, hasta cierto punto, comparto; sacar a tantas personas de la pobreza no es ningún triunfo insignificante. Tampoco me gustaría unirme a las filas de quienes critican todo el tiempo a China. No creo que la economía china vaya a derrumbarse de repente a corto plazo, ni tengo la secreta esperanza de que así sea. Dado lo mucho que depende la recuperación de la economía mundial de que China continúe creciendo, y dada la fragilidad actual de la eurozona, ese es un dato muy positivo.

Sin embargo, sí tengo dos objeciones que hacer al argumento del embajador:

En primer lugar, el objetivo fundamental de la OMC es hacer respetar las normas del comercio internacional, y, por muchos éxitos que haya deparado China con su incorporación, todavía no ha asumido el espíritu de lo que significa pertenecer a la organización.

Segundo, tanto en sentido literal como metafórico, China no vota.

El giro político hacia unas normas nacionales e internacionales de tipo liberal en el que muchos confiaban durante los años noventa está aún por llegar. Los empresarios y la nueva élite económica no se han levantado contra el Partido Comunista ni han exigido reformas democráticas. Muy al contrario, colaboran de manera eficiente con el partido-Estado, del mismo modo que tantos empresarios colaboraron con los regímenes fascistas en Europa durante la primera mitad del siglo XX. Las economías políticas planificadas y controladas, por repugnantes que puedan parecer a algunos, suelen ser motores eficaces del desarrollo económico. Las democracias, como demuestran los recientes problemas habidos en India a propósito de la reforma de los comercios, pueden ser caóticas y problemáticas.

Además, gracias al aumento de su poder económico, China puede permitirse no tener en cuenta las normas del internacionalismo liberal. El Gobierno sigue dedicando todos sus esfuerzos a perseguir unos objetivos económicos neomercantilistas, llevando a cabo una manipulación sistemática de su divisa -que contribuye al desarrollo de inmensos superávits comerciales-, dificultando las inversiones extranjeras y el acceso al mercado interior de otros países y comprando activos estratégicos que van desde recursos naturales hasta deuda pública de los países industrializados.

Hoy, la capacidad del mundo industrializado de asegurar su futuro económico está en tela de juicio. Los progresistas, tanto en Estados Unidos como en Europa, llevan mucho tiempo afirmando que la inversión en ciencia, tecnología y conocimiento nos permitirá desarrollar los productos y servicios del futuro y, por consiguiente, ayudará a garantizar la prosperidad económica. Ahora bien, si se chantajea a nuestras grandes empresas y se les obliga a ceder capital intelectual a cambio del acceso al floreciente mercado chino, o si el Gobierno chino sigue negándose a hacer respetar las leyes de propiedad intelectual sobre los sistemas y programas que utilizan en China, ¿qué eficacia puede tener esta estrategia de renovación económica a medio plazo?

Los ciudadanos de las dos orillas del Atlántico se dan cuenta de todo esto, y cada vez son más numerosos los que están dejando de creer en un futuro mejor para sí mismos y para sus hijos. Lo irónico es que tener una relación más estrecha con los socios internacionales se ha vuelto más necesario precisamente en el momento en que la gente está dando la espalda a la globalización. El presidente Obama dijo hace poco que Estados Unidos es hoy una potencia pacífica, una afirmación que no gustó nada a los líderes europeos. Pero lo que de verdad se necesita es una estrategia transatlántica de crecimiento económico, que incluya un plan de acción constructivo y común con respecto a China, concebido para garantizar la igualdad de oportunidades en las relaciones comerciales, el acceso al mercado y las inversiones.

Este es un proyecto que debe reunir a su alrededor una alianza transatlántica progresista: una sucesora de la tercera vía más globalizada, más intervencionista y menos ingenua. Si somos capaces de hacerlo, reanimaremos nuestro movimiento, reforzaremos nuestra posición en las negociaciones comerciales internacionales y, sobre todo, ofreceremos una base sólida y sostenible sobre la que reconstruir nuestras respectivas economías.

El tiempo lo dirá, pero, para los progresistas, quizá sí vote China.

For most of its history, Taiwan’s destiny was determined by three great powers — China, Japan and America. Now, as the 18th-largest economy in the world and a thoroughly democratized nation, Taiwan is still perceived by some in Washington as a potential bargaining chip in crafting a new relationship with China. This is a mistake.

It is true that Taiwan’s status is the only dispute today that is likely to drag America and China into war. Similarly, a democratic Taiwan worries “realist” strategic thinkers who fear the consequences if it declares independence. But since 2008, when Taiwan began to stabilize its once volatile relations with China, it has become an even greater asset for the United States — and an inspiration for democratizing forces in mainland China.

After years of saber-rattling in Beijing and Taipei’s drive for independence, President Ma Ying-jeou’s May 2008 declaration of “no unification, no independence, and no use of force” calmed all sides. Taiwan and China have since engaged in numerous de facto government-to-government talks and greatly expanded people-to-people exchanges. With $130 billion worth of trade and seven million visits annually across the Taiwan Strait, the impact on both societies could be enormous.

Indeed, as China and Taiwan have grown ever more economically integrated, Taiwan has also become a model for China’s future. No longer perceived as a menace to China’s national unity, Taiwan’s value as an example for China began to emerge, particularly when it came to market reforms, popular culture and press freedom. And this new model arrived at a fortuitous juncture.

After 1949, Communist China’s first 30 years were engulfed in revolutionary fervor, internal power struggles and poverty. Its second 30 years witnessed rapid economic growth, which catapulted the country to the second largest economy in the world. The third stage, which may well last another 30 years, given China’s huge size, is most likely to be marked by a race between popular demands for participation in the political process and the Communist Party’s response to these demands.

This is a bumpy path Taiwan has trod. In the past three decades, Taiwan has discarded authoritarianism and moved from martial law to the rule of law, experiencing impressive economic growth and political liberalization. Authoritarian China now finds itself uncomfortably strained as inland provinces are struggling for economic growth while urban areas are boldly stretching out to explore the boundaries of political control, forcing the Communist Party to experiment with limited reforms.

Herein lies Taiwan’s new value. While China’s economic influence on Taiwan is growing, many in China find Taiwan’s experience with democratization, warts and all, instructive. Long resentful of prevalent corruption at home, they have watched Taiwan tackle corruption within its government, even at the highest levels. They have seen how successfully Taiwan combined modernity with Chinese traditions. And they have observed how Taiwan’s people freely express their will through noisy public discussion and regular elections. Last month, debates among Taiwan’s presidential candidates were even carried by social media inside China.

Taiwan will of course need to resolve its internal political disagreements. After all, some in Taiwan are not yet convinced that a push for independence would be misguided. However, such a move would court disaster, incur disfavor with the international community, and seriously undermine Taiwan’s newfound attraction to many Chinese people as a democratic model.

The winner of Taiwan’s presidential election on Jan. 14 should therefore strive to forge a new domestic consensus between opposing camps on the island’s political relationship with China while ensuring Taiwan a more dignified place in world politics commensurate with the contributions it can make.

Long locked in indignant isolation but enormously proud of their democratic achievements, Taiwan’s people must now accept that democracy endows them with greater responsibility for regional stability. They could start by playing a more constructive role in the evolving American-Chinese relationship by becoming an interlocutor on issues that affect all three parties, like disputes over the South China Sea.

All of this will require innovative thinking and skillful management. If either side or the United States mishandles the relationship by attempting a diplomatic or even military shortcut, it could spell disaster for all parties. But if China and Taiwan establish a sufficient degree of mutual trust, Taiwan can remain an indispensable ally for the United States and a model for China’s future.

Hu Jintao se juega en las elecciones taiwanesas de mañana (presidenciales y legislativas) buena parte del crédito de su política hacia la isla. Es verdad que al poco de iniciar su mandato al frente del Partido Comunista de China (PCCh) en el 2002, confirmó la aprobación de la ley antisecesión (2005), que viene a proclamar la disposición de China a recurrir a la fuerza para impedir la independencia de Taiwán. Pero justamente a partir de ese año y con la puesta en marcha del diálogo directo entre el PCCh y el Kuomintang (KMT) sobre la base de la aceptación del principio de «una sola China», la política continental hacia Taiwán dio un giro de 180 grados, reduciendo paulatinamente el lenguaje belicoso de su antecesor, Jiang Zemin, quien lidió a la brava con la compleja presidencia taiwanesa de Chen Shui-bian, líder del soberanista PDP (Partido Democrático Progresista), hoy en la cárcel condenado por corrupción.

Tras la victoria de Ma Ying-jeou (KMT) en las elecciones del 2008, respaldado por una abrumadora mayoría, se concretaron importantes acuerdos, poniendo fin a décadas de tensión. Las comunicaciones directas (antes eran vía Hong Kong) fueron restablecidas a una velocidad de vértigo; la promoción del turismo acercó a ambas sociedades; el intercambio comercial se afianzó… El Acuerdo Marco de Cooperación Económica, firmado en junio del 2010, culminó esa primera etapa de acercamiento, aun pendiente de desarrollo en los aspectos más controvertidos.

El mayor handicap de este nuevo tiempo en las relaciones bilaterales es la falta de consenso en Taiwán a propósito del tipo de relaciones a mantener con China continental. La oposición, liderada por el PDP de Tsai Ing-wen, acusa al KMT de sentar las bases de la destrucción política de la existencia de Taiwán como sujeto soberano de facto. La sociedad taiwanesa está dividida en dos bloques (azules y verdes, unos a favor y otros en contra de la unificación); norte y sur (unionista y secesionista, respectivamente); poder económico y sociedad civil (el primero, cegado ante los beneficios derivados del entendimiento, y la segunda, temerosa de verse sacrificada en el altar de los intereses de los poderosos).

El KMT tiene posibilidades de ganar las legislativas, pero de poco le serviría si pierde la elección presidencial. En los comicios celebrados desde el 2008, el PDP ha dado muestras de una vitalidad sorprendente. Tsai Ing-wen atrae por su carisma, pero también por su cercanía a la sociedad o la claridad de su mensaje no solo en materia de política continental, sino en otros ámbitos como en su apoyo al parón nuclear. El voto femenino, antes proclive a Ma, está más dividido en esta ocasión. Y para muchos, una mujer presidenta sería un símbolo de la definitiva irrupción de la modernidad. A mayores, la división unionista en dos candidaturas puede restarle a Ma unos miles de sufragios decisivos.

Un fracaso de Ma y el KMT en estas elecciones supondría el parón y revisión de todo este proceso. El PDP rechaza el principio de «una sola China», básico para Pekín. De ganar Tsai, las relaciones empeorarían, a pesar de que esta ha manifestado cierto pragmatismo para atraerse al electorado centrista.

En China, el recurso al poder duro podría sumar apoyos. No olvidemos que, en paralelo al acercamiento, China no ha cejado en su preparación ante posibles contingencias. En el plano político, está en condiciones de aislar más a Taiwán. En el ámbito de la defensa, la mejora de capacidades tanto de la Armada como en guerra electrónica tienen a Taiwán en el punto de mira.

La apuesta de Hu Jintao en relación a Taiwán ha marcado un punto de inflexión. El fomento de los contactos a todos los niveles tiene el propósito final de configurar una masa crítica en la isla que apoye la unificación. Pero hoy ni siquiera buena parte del KMT se inclina a favor de esta posibilidad. La defensa del statu quo es mayoritaria, optando por arbitrar fórmulas de convivencia amistosas en un proceso de aprendizaje y tolerancia mutua que puede durar bastantes años. La firma del acuerdo de paz, ya propuesto por Hu Jintao en el 2008 y retomado por Ma en el 2011, se enmarca en esa línea. Un armisticio no es equivalente a la unificación, pero podría incluir previsiones decisivas para avanzar por dicho camino.

Para culminarlo, Hu Jintao, quien vive sus últimos meses al frente del PCCh y probablemente no verá satisfecho su deseo de encontrarse con Ma Ying-jeou, debe confirmar su política con los resultados de estas elecciones, acallando a aquellos sectores internos, especialmente en medios castrenses, que abogan por prepararse para una guerra que consideran inevitable ante la ambigüedad calculada del KMT, la oposición abierta del PDP y la hipocresía de Washington, que dice aplaudir el acercamiento mientras vende armas a Taiwán. La opción de una guerra, no obstante, tanto si es breve y limitada como si no, pulverizaría cualquier mínima fe en el «desarrollo pacífico» de China, que perdería toda credibilidad ante el mundo.

In 1978, the Chinese government made a decision to change direction. Rather than continue the stagnating communist policies that mired the country in Third World poverty, it started to liberalize its economy. The gamble paid off, and today, China has the world’s second-largest economy, with a large trade surplus and near-double-digit annual growth rates.

The Chinese government just made another move that also should improve the nation’s economy – this time to streamline its higher-education system. China’s state-run universities have been churning out graduates so quickly that many can’t find good jobs, even in a booming economy.

In response, China will “soon start evaluating college majors by their employment rates, downsizing or cutting degree programs in which the employment rate for graduates falls below 60 percent for two consecutive years,” the Wall Street Journal reported recently.

Perhaps America’s public universitiesshould follow China’s lead and focus on such net results as employment rates. After all, the United States also has too many college graduates who are having difficulty finding college-level jobs.

Roughly one-third of all U.S. college graduates work in fields for which no degree is required. As of May 2011, just 55.6 percent of graduates of the college class of 2009 held positions requiring college degrees, while the rest were almost equally divided between the unemployed and those working in jobs that don’t require degrees, according to a Northeastern University study.

There are two main reasons for this. One is that many students graduate without measurably improving their academic or vocational skills. The second is because there is a significant mismatch between students’ choices of majors – or even their decisions to pursue four-year academic degrees in the first place – and the needs of the U.S. workplace.

Of course, it’s a much simpler matter for China to take action because the Chinese government still pretty much calls all of the shots, without having to deal with any of the messy political and moral concerns of free nations.

Yet, while China remains a totalitarian state with little concern for individual rights – certainly not a system the United States should emulate – it frequently makes wise decisions on a purely utilitarian level. As a result, the standard of living has risen dramatically in just a few years: In 1991, its per capita annual income was $356, 6 percent of the average U.S. income. Today, per capita income in China is more than 10 times higher than it was – rising to 27 percent of average U.S. income.

The United States, on the other hand, is in the fourth year of a severe downturn, and our academic decision-making does not bode well for the future economy.

Large reductions in state appropriations have forced America’s public universities to make significant program cuts, but administrators generally make those cuts based on inputs, such as how many students are enrolled in a course – a measure of a course’s popularity with students – rather than utility.

Basing cuts on popularity rather than on how well a program prepares students for life after college hardly improves America’s economic competitiveness. The United States does not need more baristas with sociology or psychology degrees (two popular majors with comparatively little professional employment potential).

Of course, the value of the Chinese policy hinges on what Chinese officials mean by “evaluating college majors by their employment rates.” Job prospects should be only one of many factors administrators consider when they decide what goes, what stays, what gets cut, what gets expanded. A proper education encourages creativity, cultural knowledge and intellectual rigor. In fact, the Chinese have been trying to introduce American-style elements of creativity and innovation into their schools. So program cutting requires a scalpel rather than a chain saw.

But using data on the employment of graduates is still a valuable evaluation tool, and it serves as a useful guide for reforming higher education.

The Chinese exhibit hard-nosed common sense by looking at the actual results of their higher-education system; forward-looking U.S. public universities should do the same.If they won’t end their excesses voluntarily, perhaps it’s time for state legislatures to consider Chinese-style standards.

Results matter; it’s time to judge universities on how well graduates perform once they’ve left the security of the ivory tower.

The launch of trilateral strategic consultations among the United States, India, and Japan, and their decision to hold joint naval exercises this year, signals efforts to form an entente among the Asia-Pacific region’s three leading democracies. These efforts – in the world’s most economically dynamic region, where the specter of a power imbalance looms large – also have been underscored by the Obama administration’s new strategic guidance for the Pentagon. The new strategy calls for “rebalancing toward the Asia-Pacific” and support of India as a “regional economic anchor and provider of security in the broader Indian Ocean region.”

At a time when Asia is in transition and troubled by growing security challenges, the US, India, and Japan are seeking to build a broader strategic understanding to advance their shared interests. Their effort calls to mind the pre-World War I Franco-British-Russian “Triple Entente” to meet the threat posed by the rapid rise of an increasingly assertive Germany.

This time, the impetus has been provided by China’s increasingly muscular foreign policy. But unlike the anti-German entente a century ago, the aim is not to contain China. Rather, US policy is to use economic interdependence and China’s full integration into international institutions to dissuade its leaders from aggressively seeking Asian hegemony.

Indeed, the intention of the three democratic powers is to create an entente cordiale without transforming it into a formal military alliance, which they recognize would be counterproductive. Yet this entente could serve as an important strategic instrument to deter China’s rising power from sliding into arrogance. The three partners also seek to contribute to the construction of a stable, liberal, rules-based regional order.

After their recent first round of strategic dialogue in Washington, the US, Japan, and India will hold more structured discussions in Tokyo, aimed at strengthening trilateral coordination. Over time, the trilateral initiative could become quadrilateral with Australia’s inclusion. A parallel Australia-India-US axis, however, is likely to precede the formation of any quadrilateral partnership, especially in view of the earlier failure to launch such a four-party coalition.

Important shifts in American, Japanese, and Indian strategic preferences and policies, however, are needed to build meaningful trilateral collaboration. Japan, America’s treaty ally, has established military interoperability only with US forces. Following its 2008 security-cooperation declaration with India, Japan must also build interoperability with Indian naval forces, so that, as former Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe has said, “Japan’s navy and the Indian navy are seamlessly interconnected.”

American and Indian forces have conducted dozens of joint exercises in recent years, but some US analysts complain that India still hews to “nonalignment” in power politics by guarding its strategic autonomy. In reality, India is just being more cautious, because it is more vulnerable to direct Chinese pressure from across a long, disputed Himalayan border. Whereas Japan is separated from China by an ocean and the US is geographically distant, China has sharply escalated border violations and other incidents in recent years to increase pressure on India, even as the US has maintained tacit neutrality on Sino-Indian disputes.

But, in view of America’s dire fiscal challenges, the Obama administration has just announced plans for a leaner military and greater reliance on regional allies and partners. This demands that the US transcend its Cold War-era hub-and-spoke system, whose patron-client framework is hardly conducive to building new alliances (or “spokes”). India for example, cannot be a Japan to the US. Indeed, the US has worked to co-opt India in a “soft alliance” devoid of treaty obligations.

The hub-and-spoke system, in fact, is more suited to maintain Japan as an American protectorate than to allow Japan to contribute effectively to achieving the central US policy objective in Asia: a stable balance of power. A subtle US policy shift that encourages Tokyo to cut its overdependence on America and do more for its own defense can more effectively contribute to that equilibrium.

Such a shift is likely to be dictated by the US imperative to cut defense expenditure further, in order to focus on the comprehensive domestic renewal needed to arrest the erosion in its relative power. If the US is to rely less on prepositioned forward deployments and more on acting as an offshore balancer, it will need to make fundamental changes in its post-1945 security system.

The three entente parties must also understand the limits of their partnership. The broad convergence of their strategic objectives in the Asia-Pacific region does not mean that they will see eye-to-eye on all issues. Consider, for example, their earlier contrasting approaches toward Burma, or their current differences over the new US energy sanctions against Iran.

Building true military interoperability within the entente will not be easy, owing to the absence of a treaty relationship between the US and India, and to their forces’ different weapon systems and training. But, given that no formal tripartite alliance is sought, limited interoperability may mesh well with this entente cordiale’s political objectives. Indeed, the entente’s political utility is likely to surpass its military value.

Even so, the deepening cooperation between the US, India, and Japan can help to strengthen maritime security in the Indo-Pacific region – the world’s leading trade and energy seaway – and shape a healthy and stable Asian power equilibrium.

At a time when the specter of a power imbalance looms large in Asia, the just-concluded visit of Prime Minister Yoshihiko Noda of Japan to India cemented a fast-growing relationship between two natural allies. The path has been opened to adding concrete strategic content to their ties, including by building close naval collaboration.

The balance of power in Asia will be determined by events principally in two regions: East Asia and the Indian Ocean. Japan and India thus have an important role to play to advance peace and stability and help safeguard vital sea lanes in the wider Indo-Pacific region, marked by the confluence of the Indian and Pacific Oceans.

Asia’s booming economies are bound by sea, and maritime democracies such as Japan and India must work together to help build a stable, liberal, rules-based order in Asia. As Indian Prime Minister Manmohan Singh told the East Asia Summit meeting in Bali in November, Asia’s continued rise is not automatically assured but “dependent on the evolution of a cooperative architecture.”

Just as 97 percent of India’s international trade by volume is conducted by sea, almost all of Japan’s international trade is ocean-borne. As energy-poor countries heavily dependent on oil imports from the Persian Gulf region, the two are seriously concerned by mercantilist efforts to assert control over energy supplies and transport routes.

The maintenance of a peaceful and lawful maritime domain, including unimpeded freedom of navigation, is thus critical to their security and economic well-being.

In this light, Japan and India have already agreed to start holding joint naval exercises during the new year. This is just one sign that they now wish to graduate from emphasizing shared values to seeking to protect shared interests jointly.

Today, the fastest-growing bilateral relation-ship in Asia is between India and Japan. Since they unveiled a “strategic and global partnership” in 2006, their political and economic engagement has deepened remarkably.

Their growing congruence of strategic inter-ests led to the 2008 Joint Declaration on Security Cooperation, a significant milestone in building Asian power stability. A constellation of Asian states linked by strategic cooperation and sharing common interests has become critical to ensuring equilibrium at a time when the ongoing power shifts are accentuating Asia’s security challenges.

The joint declaration was modeled on Japan’s 2007 defense-cooperation accord with Australia  the only country with which Tokyo has a security-cooperation declaration. Japan, of course, is tied to the United States militarily since 1951 by a treaty. The India-Japan security agreement, in turn, spawned a similar India-Australian accord in 2009.

A free-trade accord between Japan and India entered into force just five months ago. By covering more than 90 percent of the trade as well as a wide range of services, rules of origin, investment, intellectual property rights, customs rules and other related issues, the agreement promises to significantly boost bilateral trade, which remains small in comparison with Japan’s and India’s trade with China. India is already beginning to emerge as a favored destination in Asia for Japanese foreign direct investment.

In response to China’s use of its monopoly on rare earths production to punitively cut off such exports to Japan during the fall of 2010, Japan and India have agreed to the joint development of rare earths, which are vital for a wide range of green energy technologies and military applications. Deng Xiaoping remarked in 1992 that while “the Middle East has oil, China has rare earth minerals,” implying that Beijing could leverage international supply of rare earths the way the Organization of the Petroleum Exporting Countries has sought to do so with oil.

Today, the level and frequency of India-Japan official engagement is extraordinary. Mr. Noda’s New Delhi visit was part of a bilateral commit-ment to hold an annual summit meeting of the prime ministers.

More importantly, Japan and India now have a series of annual minister-to-minister dialogues: a strategic dialogue between their foreign ministers; a defense dialogue between their defense ministers; a policy dialogue between India’s commerce and industry minister and Japan’s minister of economy, trade and industry; and separate ministerial-level energy and economic dialogues.

Supporting these high-level discussions is another set of talks, including a two-plus-two dialogue led jointly by India’s foreign and defense secretaries and their Japanese vice-ministerial counterparts, a maritime security dialogue, a comprehensive security dialogue, and military-to-military talks involving regular exchange visits of the chiefs of staff.

To top it off, Japan, India and the United States have initiated a trilateral strategic dialogue, whose first meeting was held in Washington on Dec. 19. Getting the U.S. on board can only bolster the convergences of all three partners and boost India-Japan cooperation.

Bilaterally, Japan and India need to strengthen their still-fledgling strategic cooperation by embracing two ideas, both of which demand a subtle shift in Japanese thinking and policy.

One is to build interoperability between their naval forces. These forces  along with other friendly navies  can undergird peace and stability in the Indo-Pacific region. As former Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe put it in a recent speech in New Delhi, the aim should be that “sooner rather than later, Japan’s navy and the Indian navy are seamlessly interconnected.” Presently, Japan has naval interoperability only with U.S. forces.

Another idea is for the two countries to co-develop defense systems. India and Japan have missile-defense cooperation with Israel and the United States. There is no reason why they should not work together on missile defense and on other technologies for mutual security. Their defense cooperation must be comprehensive and not be limited to strategic dialogue, maritime cooperation and occasional naval exercises.

There is no ban on weapon exports in Japan’s U.S.-imposed constitution, only a long-standing Cabinet decision, which in any event has just been relaxed. That decision, in fact, related to weapons, not technologies.

Japan and India should remember that the most stable economic partnerships in the world, including the Atlantic community and the Japan-U.S. partnership, have been built on the bedrock of security collaboration. Economic ties that lack the support of strategic partnerships tend to be less stable and even volatile, as is apparent from Japan’s and India’s economic relationships with China.

Through close strategic collaboration, Japan and India must lead the effort to build freedom, prosperity and stability in the Indo-Pacific region.

From the outside, China often appears to be a highly centralized monolith. Unlike Europe’s cities, which have been able to preserve a certain identity and cultural distinctiveness despite the homogenizing forces of globalization, most Chinese cities suffer from a drab uniformity.

But China is more like Europe than it seems. Indeed, when it comes to economics, China is more a thin political union composed of semiautonomous cities — some with as many inhabitants as a European country — than an all-powerful centralized government that uniformly imposes its will on the whole country.

And competition among these huge cities is an important reason for China’s economic dynamism. The similar look of China’s megacities masks a rivalry as fierce as that among European countries.

China’s urban economic boom began in the late 1970s as an experiment with market reforms in China’s coastal cities. Shenzhen, the first “special economic zone,” has grown from a small fishing village in 1979 into a booming metropolis of 10 million today. Many other cities, from Guangzhou to Tianjin, soon followed the path of market reforms.

Today, cities vie ruthlessly for competitive advantage using tax breaks and other incentives that draw foreign and domestic investors. Smaller cities specialize in particular products, while larger ones flaunt their educational capacity and cultural appeal. It has led to the most rapid urban “economic miracle” in history.

But the “miracle” has had an undesirable side effect: It led to a huge gap between rich and poor, primarily between urban and rural areas. The vast rural population — 54 percent of China’s 1.3 billion people — is equivalent to the whole population of Europe. And most are stuck in destitute conditions. The main reason is the hukou (household registration) system that limits migration into cities, as well as other policies that have long favored urban over rural development.

More competition among cities is essential to eliminate the income gap. Over the past decade the central government has given leeway to different cities to experiment with alternative methods of addressing the urban-rural wealth gap.

The most widely discussed experiment is the “Chongqing model,” headed by Bo Xilai, a party secretary and rising political star. Chongqing, an enormous municipality with a population of 33 million and a land area the size of Austria, is often called China’s biggest city. But in fact 23 million of its inhabitants are registered as farmers. More than 8 million farmers have already migrated to the municipality’s more urban areas to work, with a million per year expected to migrate there over the next decade. Chongqing has responded by embarking on a huge subsidized housing project, designed to eventually house 30 to 40 percent of the city’s population.

Chongqing has also improved the lot of farmers by loosening the hukou system. Today, farmers can choose to register as “urban” and receive equal rights to education, health care and pensions after three years, on the condition that they give up the rural registration and the right to use a small plot of land.

While Chongqing’s model is the most influential, there is an alternative. Chengdu, Sichuan’s largest municipality, with a population of 14 million — half of them rural residents — is less heavy-handed. It is the only city in China to enjoy high economic growth while also reducing the income gap between urban and rural residents over the past decade.

Chengdu has focused on improving the surrounding countryside, rather than encouraging large-scale migration to the city. The government has shifted 30 percent of its resources to its rural areas and encouraged development zones that allow rural residents to earn higher salaries and to reap the educational, cultural and medical benefits of urban life.

I recently visited a development zone composed of small firms that export fiery Sichuan chili sauces. Most farmers rented their land and worked in the development zone, but those who wanted to stay on their plots were allowed to. So far, one-third of the area’s farmland has been converted into larger-scale agricultural operations that have increased efficiency.

More than 90 percent of the municipality’s rural residents are now covered by a medical plan, and the government has introduced a more comprehensive pension scheme. Rural schools have been upgraded to the point that their facilities now surpass those in some of Chengdu’s urban schools, and teachers from rural areas are sent to the city for training.

Empowering rural residents by providing more job opportunities and better welfare raises their purchasing power, helping China boost domestic consumption. And in 2012, Chengdu is likely to become the first big Chinese municipality to wipe out the legal distinction between its urban and rural residents, allowing rural people to move to the city if they choose.

Chengdu’s success has been driven by a comprehensive, long-term effort involving consultation and participation from the bottom up, as well as a clear property rights scheme. By contrast, Chongqing has relied on state power and the dislocation of millions to achieve similar results. If Chengdu’s “gentle” model proves to be more effective at reducing the income gap, it can set a model for the rest of the country, just as Shenzhen set a model for market reforms.

There are fundamental differences, of course: Chengdu’s land is more fertile and its weather more temperate, compared to Chongqing’s harsh terrain and sweltering summers. Life is slower in Chengdu; even the chili is milder. What succeeds in one place may fail elsewhere.

Ultimately, the central government will decide what works and what doesn’t. And that’s not a bad thing; it encourages local variation and internal competition.

European leaders ought to take note. Central authorities should have the power not just to punish “losers” as Europe has done in the case of Greece, but to reward “winners” that set a good example for the rest of the union.

Kim Jong-Un can count himself lucky that his first birthday in power falls today, on a Sunday, obviating the need for a new national holiday to be created at an awkward time. But the ease with which the new “supreme leader” has taken over North Korea has little to do with luck. For one thing, the propaganda apparatus did its job well. We now know why Kim Jong-un was such a peripheral figure on the evening news until his father’s death: so that North Koreans’ first long look at the pampered young man would be at the rarest of times — a time when he was suffering more than anyone.

More important, though, is the fact that his succession makes perfect sense in North Korea’s ethno-nationalist personality cult. People who value racial purity always consider some bloodlines purer than others, and in “the Kim Il-sung race,” as North Koreans call themselves, no bloodline is purer than the eternal president’s. Kim Jong-un’s increasingly obvious efforts to copy his revered grandfather’s appearance and mannerisms (right down to his signature) are naturally meant to show that — as a Korean saying goes — blood doesn’t lie.

Membership in the great family is also thought to provide greater access to the elders’ wisdom. This makes the time Kim Jong-un spent away in a Swiss school especially problematic, but the propaganda apparatus may be planning to ignore that part of his life altogether. (The latest reports suggest that he is now being credited with having written, at the age of 16, a treatise on his grandfather’s thought, presumably while in Pyongyang, the capital.) In any case, the notion that army generals or any other important faction would object to Kim Jong-un’s takeover was an improbable one to begin with; no North Korean could oppose the hereditary succession without being opposed to the state itself. Such an attitude is unlikely to be held by anyone in the ruling elite.

Unfortunately, the West seems determined to continue paying as little attention to North Korean ideology as possible. In the past few weeks the country’s propaganda has been quoted more for comic relief than anything else. (A few over-literal readings of its flowery imagery have made it seem even more bizarre than it is.) Meanwhile the race-thinking pervading the official rhetoric has been ignored, as has the imperial-Japanese provenance of so much of it, like the talk in recent weeks of defending Kim Jong-un with “human bombs” if necessary.

Most of the news media around the world continue viewing North Korea as it does not view itself, namely as a Communist state. The result has been a lot of old-school Kremlinological fuss about the power hierarchy. Several reporters have asked for my opinion on whether Kim Jong-un’s main string-puller will be his uncle, Jang Song-taek, or Vice Marshal Ri Yong-ho, though no one has yet been able to explain to me why the question matters. After all, there is no evidence of significant disagreement inside the ruling elite in regard to any issue.

By Communist standards, the North Korean masses would have to judge both the government’s economic performance and the succession in the harshest possible terms. It is because they judge them by very different standards that Kim Jong-un was able to take over so effortlessly while promising to budge “not an inch” from his father’s line. We should therefore not make too much of the fraudulence of all that on-screen wailing. Just because North Korean TV never films anything before rehearsing all spontaneity out of it does not mean the average citizen was unmoved. By ultra-nationalist, militarist criteria, which have more to do with North Koreans’ perception of where the country stands in the world than material living conditions, the Dear Leader did a very good job indeed: the Korean Central News Agency may well be correct in saying he made the country virtually impregnable.

That very boast, however, makes things harder for Kim Jong-il’s successor. Though he appears secure inside the elite, the state as a whole must continue showing the masses that it is worthy of its beloved founder. If nuclear armament is to be seen as a closed victorious chapter, the new leader must approach the final tasks in his grandfather’s to-do list, as impossible as they may seem from an outsider’s perspective: drastic economic growth and national reunification. Perhaps we can discount the rumor — reported in 2010 — that internal Workers’ Party memorandums have described unification as a requisite for prosperity, because in the latest official New Year’s editorial, at least, reunification is thought possible in the near future only if the enemy “dares to infringe upon our dignity and sovereignty.”

Even so, there is no reason to assume that the government’s interest in economic matters will reduce tension on the peninsula. Judging from the stale voluntarism espoused in North Korea this month — the same old calls to emulate this or that heroic factory, to make better use of available resources and so on — Kim Jong-un will not be advocating any significant reforms. Whether North Korea continues muddling along on Chinese life support, or grows fast enough to start resembling South Korea circa 1980, the military-first government must still justify its separate existence alongside the rival state.

How can it do this, except through more displays of military strength and superiority? When the new leadership vaunts its adherence to the old leadership’s policies, it is merely trying to make a virtue out of necessity.

Despite some small signs of optimism about the United States economy, unemployment is still high, and the country seems stalled.

Time and again, Americans are told to look to Japan as a warning of what the country might become if the right path is not followed, although there is intense disagreement about what that path might be. Here, for instance, is how the CNN analyst David Gergen has described Japan: “It’s now a very demoralized country and it has really been set back.”

But that presentation of Japan is a myth. By many measures, the Japanese economy has done very well during the so-called lost decades, which started with a stock market crash in January 1990. By some of the most important measures, it has done a lot better than the United States.

Japan has succeeded in delivering an increasingly affluent lifestyle to its people despite the financial crash. In the fullness of time, it is likely that this era will be viewed as an outstanding success story.

How can the reality and the image be so different? And can the United States learn from Japan’s experience?

It is true that Japanese housing prices have never returned to the ludicrous highs they briefly touched in the wild final stage of the boom. Neither has the Tokyo stock market.

But the strength of Japan’s economy and its people is evident in many ways. There are a number of facts and figures that don’t quite square with Japan’s image as the laughingstock of the business pages:

• Japan’s average life expectancy at birth grew by 4.2 years — to 83 years from 78.8 years — between 1989 and 2009. This means the Japanese now typically live 4.8 years longer than Americans. The progress, moreover, was achieved in spite of, rather than because of, diet. The Japanese people are eating more Western food than ever. The key driver has been better health care.

• Japan has made remarkable strides in Internet infrastructure. Although as late as the mid-1990s it was ridiculed as lagging, it has now turned the tables. In a recent survey by Akamai Technologies, of the 50 cities in the world with the fastest Internet service, 38 were in Japan, compared to only 3 in the United States.

• Measured from the end of 1989, the yen has risen 87 percent against the U.S. dollar and 94 percent against the British pound. It has even risen against that traditional icon of monetary rectitude, the Swiss franc.

• The unemployment rate is 4.2 percent, about half of that in the United States.

• According to skyscraperpage.com, a Web site that tracks major buildings around the world, 81 high-rise buildings taller than 500 feet have been constructed in Tokyo since the “lost decades” began. That compares with 64 in New York, 48 in Chicago, and 7 in Los Angeles.

• Japan’s current account surplus — the widest measure of its trade — totaled $196 billion in 2010, up more than threefold since 1989. By comparison, America’s current account deficit ballooned to $471 billion from $99 billion in that time. Although in the 1990s the conventional wisdom was that as a result of China’s rise Japan would be a major loser and the United States a major winner, it has not turned out that way. Japan has increased its exports to China more than 14-fold since 1989 and Chinese-Japanese bilateral trade remains in broad balance.

As longtime Japan watchers like Ivan P. Hall and Clyde V. Prestowitz Jr. point out, the fallacy of the “lost decades” story is apparent to American visitors the moment they set foot in the country. Typically starting their journeys at such potent symbols of American infrastructural decay as Kennedy or Dulles airports, they land at Japanese airports that have been extensively expanded and modernized in recent years.

William J. Holstein, a prominent Japan watcher since the early 1980s, recently visited the country for the first time in some years. “There’s a dramatic gap between what one reads in the United States and what one sees on the ground in Japan,” he said. “The Japanese are dressed better than Americans. They have the latest cars, including Porsches, Audis, Mercedes-Benzes and all the finest models. I have never seen so many spoiled pets. And the physical infrastructure of the country keeps improving and evolving.”

Why, then, is Japan seen as a loser? On the official gross domestic product numbers, the United States has ostensibly outperformed Japan for many years. But even taking America’s official numbers at face value, the difference has been far narrower than people realize. Adjusted to a per-capita basis (which is the proper way to do this) and measured since 1989, America’s G.D.P. grew by an average of just 1.4 percent a year. Japan’s figure meanwhile was even more anemic — just 1 percent — implying that it underperformed the United States by 0.4 percent a year.

A look at the underlying accounting, however, suggests that, far from underperforming, Japan may have outperformed. For a start, in a little noticed change, United States statisticians in the 1980s embarked on an increasingly aggressive use of the so-called hedonic method of adjusting for inflation, an approach that in the view of many experts artificially boosts a nation’s apparent growth rate.

On the calculations of John Williams of Shadowstats.com, a Web site that tracks flaws in United States economic data, America’s growth in recent decades has been overstated by as much as 2 percentage points a year. If he is even close to the truth, this factor alone may put the United States behind Japan in per-capita performance.

If the Japanese have really been hurting, the most obvious place this would show would be in slow adoption of expensive new high-tech items. Yet the Japanese are consistently among the world’s earliest adopters. If anything, it is Americans who have been lagging. In cellphones, for instance, Japan leapfrogged the United States in the space of a few years in the late 1990s and it has stayed ahead ever since, with consumers moving exceptionally rapidly to ever more advanced devices.

Much of the story is qualitative rather than quantitative. An example is Japan’s eating-out culture. Tokyo, according to the Michelin Guide, boasts 16 of the world’s top-ranked restaurants, versus a mere 10 for the runner-up, Paris. Similarly Japan as a whole beats France in the Michelin ratings. But how do you express this in G.D.P. terms?

Similar problems arise in measuring improvements in the Japanese health care system. And how does one accurately convey the vast improvement in the general environment in Japan in the last two decades?

Luckily there is a yardstick that finesses many of these problems: electricity output, which is mainly a measure of consumer affluence and industrial activity. In the 1990s, while Japan was being widely portrayed as an outright “basket case,” its rate of increase in per-capita electricity output was twice that of America, and it continued to outperform into the new century.

Part of what is going on here is Western psychology. Anyone who has followed the story long-term cannot help but notice that many Westerners actively seek to belittle Japan. Thus every policy success is automatically discounted. It is a mind-set that is much in evidence even among Tokyo-based Western diplomats and scholars.

Take, for instance, how Western observers have viewed Japan’s demographics. The population is getting older because of a low birthrate, a characteristic Japan shares with many of the world’s richest nations. Yet this is presented not only as a critical problem but as a policy failure. It never seems to occur to Western commentators that the Japanese both individually and collectively have chosen their demographic fate — and have good reasons for doing so.

The story begins in the terrible winter of 1945-6, when, newly bereft of their empire, the Japanese nearly starved to death. With overseas expansion no longer an option, Japanese leaders determined as a top priority to cut the birthrate. Thereafter a culture of small families set in that has continued to the present day.

Japan’s motivation is clear: food security. With only about one-third as much arable land per capita as China, Japan has long been the world’s largest net food importer. While the birth control policy is the primary cause of Japan’s aging demographics, the phenomenon also reflects improved health care and an increase of more than 20 years in life expectancy since 1950.

Psychology aside, a major factor in the West’s comprehension problem is that virtually everyone in Tokyo benefits from the doom and gloom story. For foreign sales representatives, for instance, it has been the perfect get-out-of-jail card when they don’t reach their quotas. For Japanese foundations it is the perfect excuse in politely waving away solicitations from American universities and other needy nonprofits. Ditto for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in tempering expectations of foreign aid recipients. Even American investment bankers have reasons to emphasize bad news. Most notably they profit from the so-called yen-carry trade, an arcane but powerful investment strategy in which the well informed benefit from periodic bouts of weakness in the Japanese yen.

Economic ideology has also played an unfortunate role. Many economists, particularly right-wing think-tank types, are such staunch advocates of laissez-faire that they reflexively scorn Japan’s very different economic system, with its socialist medicine and ubiquitous government regulation. During the stock market bubble of the late 1980s, this mind-set abated but it came back after the crash.

Japanese trade negotiators noticed an almost magical sweetening in the mood in foreign capitals after the stock market crashed in 1990. Although previously there had been much envy of Japan abroad (and serious talk of protectionist measures), in the new circumstances American and European trade negotiators switched to feeling sorry for the “fallen giant.” Nothing if not fast learners, Japanese trade negotiators have been appealing for sympathy ever since.

The strategy seems to have been particularly effective in Washington. Believing that you shouldn’t kick a man when he is down, chivalrous American officials have largely given up pressing for the opening of Japan’s markets. Yet the great United States trade complaints of the late 1980s — concerning rice, financial services, cars and car components — were never remedied.

The “fallen giant” story has also even been useful to other East Asian nations, particularly in their trade diplomacy with the United States.

A striking instance of how the story has influenced American perceptions appears in “The Next 100 Years,” by the consultant George Friedman. In a chapter headed “China 2020: Paper Tiger,” Mr. Friedman argues that, just as Japan “failed” in the 1990s, China will soon have its comeuppance. Talk of this sort powerfully fosters complacency and confusion in Washington in the face of a United States-China trade relationship that is already arguably the most destructive in world history and certainly the most unbalanced.

Clearly the question of what has really happened to Japan is of first-order geopolitical importance. In a stunning refutation of American conventional wisdom, Japan has not missed a beat in building an ever more sophisticated industrial base. That this is not more obvious is a tribute in part to the fact that Japanese manufacturers have graduated to making so-called producers’ goods. These typically consist of advanced components or materials, or precision production equipment. They may be invisible to the consumer, yet without them the modern world literally would not exist. This sort of manufacturing, which is both highly capital-intensive and highly know-how-intensive, was virtually monopolized by the United States in the 1950s and 1960s and constituted the essence of American economic leadership.

Japan’s achievement is all the more impressive for the fact that its major competitors — Germany, South Korea, Taiwan and, of course, China — have hardly been standing still. The world has gone through a rapid industrial revolution in the last two decades thanks to the “targeting” of manufacturing by many East Asian nations. Yet Japan’s trade surpluses have risen.

Japan should be held up as a model, not an admonition. If a nation can summon the will to pull together, it can turn even the most unpromising circumstances to advantage. Here Japan’s constant upgrading of its infrastructure is surely an inspiration. It is a strategy that often requires cooperation across a wide political front, but such cooperation has not been beyond the American political system in the past. The Hoover Dam, that iconic project of the Depression, required negotiations among seven states but somehow it was built — and it provided jobs for 16,000 people in the process. Nothing is stopping similar progress now — nothing, except political bickering.

Los funerales de Estado, iguales que las bodas reales, son grandes puestas en escena destinadas a conmover a las multitudes que se alinean en las calles o a las puertas de las catedrales y palacios, contenidas por las vallas de la policía, y que igualmente congregan a millones frente a los aparatos de televisión como en las grandes lides del fútbol. Los funerales del presidente Kennedy, por ejemplo. La boda y los funerales de la princesa Diana, quien tuvo la doble gracia de casarse y ser enterrada en olor de multitudes.

Pero los funerales del Líder Supremo de Corea del Norte Kim Jong-il desbordan toda imaginación y entran en el territorio más profundo de la divinidad. Kennedy y la princesa Diana eran mortales a quienes llegó su hora, mientras que el alma del Líder Supremo se desprende de su envoltura terrena y sube a los cielos como el verdadero dios que es, semidiós es demasiado poco, para sentarse a la diestra de su padre Kim Il-sung, fundador de la dinastía, quien ahora tiene el título de Líder Eterno, y como eterno que es, sus fotos gigantescas y sus estatuas doradas están por todas partes.

Según la hagiografía oficial, Kim Jong-il vio la luz en el monte Paektu, precisamente el mítico lugar donde se sitúa el milenario surgimiento del reino de Corea, y su nacimiento fue anunciado por una golondrina, mientras en los cielos aparecía una nueva estrella, y un doble arcoíris se abría frente a los sabios ojos del niño. Nació en una rústica cabaña guerrillera, pues su padre dirigía entonces a las fuerzas de resistencia contra la ocupación japonesa, y no sería nada extraño que hubiera tenido por cuna un pesebre. El único pequeño detalle que altera el mito es que el infante predestinado a la gloria, y a los altares, nació realmente en la Unión Soviética, donde su padre estaba entonces exiliado.

Ahora su ascenso a los cielos ha sido marcado también por señales divinas. Como es el tiempo en que el crudo invierno desata sus peores furias sobre Corea, a la hora de su muerte se detuvo la tormenta de nieve que azotaba el sagrado monte Paektu, doblemente sagrado pues a través de la historia de los siglos vio nacer un reino y al heredero de ese reino. Entonces, al cesar la tempestad, el cielo ya completamente radiante se encendió de rojo.

En Hamhung, a la hora en que el Líder Supremo expiraba a bordo de un tren, una grulla de Manchuria, entre graznidos lastimeros, voló en círculos desesperados alrededor de la gigantesca estatua de Kim Il-sung, luego se posó en un árbol, inclinó la cabeza en señal de profundo respeto y reemprendió su vuelo. Fue allí en Hamhung, precisamente, donde el Líder Eterno puso en ejecución uno de sus gran-des inventos, pues también era científico: una fábrica que producía hilo para fabricar ropa, sacado de las piedras.

Otros pájaros en otras ciudades se apiñaron en los árboles al conocer la noticia del deceso, como si celebraran asambleas de duelo. Nada de esto puede atribuirse a la imaginación tendenciosa de nadie. Está registrado en las páginas del Rodong Sinmun, el periódico oficial del Comité Central del Partido de los Trabajadores de Corea.

¿Y cómo era Kim Jong-il, según las biografías oficiales de lectura obligatoria en escuelas y universidades? Desde muy niño estuvo dotado de “una inteligencia asombrosa, un agudo poder de observación, una gran capacidad de análisis y una perspicacia extraordinaria, valiente y ambicioso, tenía un pensamiento creativo y miraba cada problema con un ojo innovador. Tenía un carácter fuerte y audaz, que le permitía completar cualquier tarea por difícil que fuera. Poseía un amor cálido y humano y una mente abierta, siempre era generoso, poco ceremonioso y afectuoso con la gente”. Nada dicen de su pasión desmedida por las actrices, todo un harén de ellas, ni por las películas de Hollywood, de las que conservaba miles en su cinemateca privada.

Sus funerales han sido regidos por una estricta coreografía. Por la gran avenida cubierta de nieve la caravana de automóviles negros avanza, en la capota del primero de ellos un enorme retrato enflorado del dios que ha empezado su tránsito hacia las regiones celestes. Sonríe, congelado en los años de su juventud. Y como se trata de una dinastía de dioses de un Olimpo reglamentado, donde hasta los llantos y suspiros se hallan bajo las órdenes del partido, su hijo Kim Jong-un, que por su aspecto denota que disfruta de la buena mesa, marcha de primero al lado del féretro. Fue sacado del colegio en Suiza antes de que aprendiera nada, y es el sucesor gracias a un descuido imperdonable de su hermano mayor Kim Jong Nam, descubierto al querer ingresar a Japón con un pasaporte falso, pues la ambición de su vida era visitar el Disneyland de Tokio. Ahora vive en el exilio en Macao, muy a gusto porque allí abundan los casinos.

La puesta en escena del funeral es impecable. La gente se alinea por millares a lo largo de la ruta del desfile, aterida por el frío y soportando estoicamente la nevada. Sollozan, lloran a gritos, imprecan al cielo con los brazos en alto, se arrodillan, se lanzan al suelo, se desmayan, y los más dramáticos son los de la primera fila. Hay siempre en la vida quienes expresan su dolor de manera estoica, silenciosa, sin alardes; pero aquí no. La histeria es la regla porque los guionistas son implacables.

Con las mejillas arrasadas en lágrimas, un oficial del Ejército declara a la televisión oficial: “La nieve, como las lágrimas, cae sin fin. ¿Cómo no iba a llorar el firmamento cuando hemos perdido a nuestro general que es un gran hombre del cielo? Mientras la muerte nos separe de nuestro general, el pueblo, las montañas y el cielo derramaremos lágrimas de sangre. ¡Querido Comandante Supremo!”. El oficial es apuesto, su traje militar es impecable, y parece haber sido maquillado antes de salir a escena. A su lado, una joven muy bella, también en uniforme militar, llena de congoja repite palabras parecidas, que igual parecen aprendidas de un guión teatral.

El nuevo dios Kim Jong-un, tercero de la dinastía divina, obeso e inexperto, ya tendrá su hagiografía también. Una nueva estrella en el firmamento en anuncio de su nacimiento, un arcoíris triple. Y sus estatuas doradas por doquier.

Iran’s capture of an American drone compels us to revisit some difficult, unwelcome but fundamental security issues. If Iran downed a sophisticated U.S. drone, as it claims, that would represent a monumental Iranian intelligence coup in learning how to override the drone’s command-and-control system and then guide it safely down to earth. That conclusion, if true, would force a rethinking of the U.S. intelligence campaign against Iran and, quite possibly, in Afghanistan, as it is likely Iran would share the secret with the Taliban, whom it has helped in the past.

If, however, the drone malfunctioned, as the Obama administration maintains and is more likely, Iran probably will learn those secrets with the help of Russian and Chinese technicians. Pakistan already, against U.S. objections, has transferred a stealth helicopter that crashed during the raid on Osama bin Laden. We should expect no less of Iran. Then those countries, too, probably will learn how to override our drones and force us to rethink our use of drones for intelligence and as strike platforms.

Once Iran learns how to master these systems, it probably will have an improved capability with which to challenge foreign intelligence monitoring of its nuclear programs. Iran will have obtained a marvelous tool with which to enhance its reconnaissance and surveillance capabilities throughout the Gulf and Middle East. But beyond those negative outcomes for the United States, Israel, our allies in the Gulf and, potentially, the International Security Assistance Force in Afghanistan, this event also will have profoundly negative consequences in the Caspian basin and particularly Azerbaijan.

Every Central Asian state, as well as Azerbaijan, harbors suspicions about Iran. Tajikistan called home its students in Iranian religious establishments out of fear that they were being infected with a revolutionary Islamist indoctrination. None of the other Central Asian states wants Iran to be a member of the Shanghai Cooperation Organization, nor do they support its nuclear program. They all suspect Iran’s potential for inciting insurgents and terrorists in their countries. Iran also has regularly thwarted efforts by Azerbaijan, Kazakhstan and Turkmenistan to expand energy production into the Caspian Sea.

But the most overt displays of Iranian power and threats have been employed against neighboring Azerbaijan, not least because Tehran suspects Baku of being pro-American and pro-Israeli, but also because it fears that Azerbaijan may seek to exploit the ethnic grievances of Iranian Azerbaijanis in northwestern Iran and detach the area from Iran with great power support. This is not a groundless fear, as the Soviet Union sought to do so in 1920-21 and 1945-46. Nevertheless, this fear of the Azerbaijani minority is more a pretext for Iran’s current threats against Azerbaijan than a rational basis for Iranian policy. Iran’s real fear is Azerbaijan’s support for the United States and Israel and its apprehension that Azerbaijan might become a platform for a U.S. operation against it.

In fact, Iran has been threatening Azerbaijan for more than a decade. Iran has staunchly supported Armenia’s conquest of undisputed Azerbaijani territory in the Nagorno-Karabakh crisis to the point that Armenia regularly votes against sanctions on Iran in the United Nations. In 2001, Iran shot up an Azerbaijani oil-exploration platform in the Caspian Sea. Apart from blocking the legal resolution of that sea’s status, Iran regularly threatens Azerbaijan with invasion and other unspecified military action if it supports a U.S. base in its country and because of its close ties with Israel.

More recently, Iranian incitement is clearly behind the anti-government campaign by religiously inclined Shiites, who are protesting the government’s “anti-religious” policies. Whatever the merits of those policies and resistance to it, the evidence of Iran’s support for agitation and propaganda, its regular efforts to delegitimize the Azerbaijani government and continuing overt military threats against the regime are indisputable.

As Iran’s missile and satellite capabilities grow, and should it get a nuclear weapon, these threats become all the more frightening, whatever Tehran’s intentions may be. Iran’s acquisition of the reconnaissance, surveillance and potential strike capabilities that this drone and others like it possess adds immeasurably to its capabilities to threaten not only its Middle Eastern neighbors but its Central Asian and Caucasian neighbors.

The current assessment of the damage caused by the loss of this drone reminds policymakers and analysts that the threat posed by Iran is not just to the Middle East, Israel, Saudi Arabia and the other Gulf states but also to Iran’s northern neighbors and international security in general. Proliferation of this technology might not be as great a threat as an Iranian nuclear weapon, but it is hardly a small threat. Consequently, Iran’s likely mastery of this system would intensify significantly the threat in the Middle East, the Caucasus and Central Asia. The United States and those governments, too, must take that threat into account and respond to a visibly more dangerous situation.

El ascenso al poder en Corea del Norte del regordete Kim Jong-un, de 29 años de edad,  ha acaparado titulares en todo el mundo, pero la historia coreana más importante en torno a jóvenes y política ocurre en Corea del Sur. Allí, los votantes jóvenes están más agitados, son más activos políticamente y tienen una actitud cada vez más hostil a los viejos partidos establecidos. Este desafío demográfico al status quo de Corea del Sur sugiere un despertar “liberal” que podría cambiar completamente el panorama político del país.

La elección del activista Park Won-soon como alcalde de Seúl el otoño pasado ha demostrado la creciente fuerza del voto juvenil, que tomó al gobernante Gran Partido Nacional completamente por sorpresa. Los jóvenes se movilizaron de forma espontánea, utilizando todas las herramientas de las redes sociales y las comunicaciones modernas, para hacer que acudieran a las urnas no sólo votantes de su misma edad, sino muchos otros exasperados por la rigidez y las oportunidades “aisladas” de Corea del Sur.

El repentino aumento de los votantes jóvenes ha puesto en duda la victoria -que por largo tiempo se había dado por supuesta- de la probable candidata del gobernante GPN, Park Guen Hye, en las elecciones presidenciales que se celebrarán en diciembre. De hecho, muchos analistas políticos consideran ahora al GPN como un barco que se hunde, sobre todo después de que un empleado de uno de los diputados del partido presuntamente planeara un ataque cibernético al sitio web de la Comisión Electoral Nacional para evitar que los votantes jóvenes llegaran a las urnas.

Mientras algunos expertos y políticos sugieren ahora que el GPN podría colapsar antes que la corrupta y empobrecida Corea del Norte, Park Geun-hye, una mujer emblemática de la política surcoreana, ha dejado claro que no va a abandonarlo. Para recalcar su decisión, el mes pasado se convirtió en su líder provisional.

En opinión de Park, abandonarlo simplemente debido a su cada vez mayor impopularidad mostraría su falta de principios y fiabilidad. Su negativa a actuar por su cuenta es probablemente la razón principal por la que continúa a la cabeza en varias encuestas de opinión. Sin embargo, encuestas recientes muestran que la mayoría de los votantes desconfían del gobierno y el partido gobernante.

De hecho, Ahn Cheol-soo, empresario exitoso que se convirtió en profesor pro-reformas en la Universidad Nacional de Seúl y principal patrocinador del nuevo alcalde de la ciudad, ha sacudido la política de Corea del Sur al dar claras señales de que podría convertirse en candidato presidencial. Ahn ya se ha convertido en foco de atracción de todas las fuerzas que en el país se oponen a Park y al presidente Lee Myun-bak, entre las que se cuentan muchos jóvenes.

Los méritos más evidentes de Ahn son su historia personal de superación de grandes desafíos y su actitud modesta. Su gran logro comercial -el desarrollo de un software antivirus- lo hizo inmensamente rico. Su decisión de donar una gran parte de su fortuna lo volvió inmensamente popular.

Más importante aún, Ahn sabe cómo dirigirse a quienes se sienten frustrados por la rigidez de la economía y el ambiente de negocios de Corea del Sur, en particular los jóvenes. También parece consciente del creciente poder de las redes sociales en la política. Aunque el profesor de 49 años de edad sigue sin comprometerse formalmente a ser candidato presidencial, su franqueza y tolerancia complementan su capacidad de comunicar un mensaje político claro sobre la necesidad de un cambio fundamental. Pocas veces en la política surcoreana la personalidad de un candidato ha jugado un papel tan importante.

Las creencias económicas de Ahn, formadas principalmente por sus experiencias como director ejecutivo (CEO) contra el poder establecido de los chaebol surcoreanos (enormes conglomerados industriales con buenas conexiones políticas) han reavivado el debate en derechas e izquierdas sobre si estos son aún capaces de guiar la economía del país con eficacia.

En una era de creciente desigualdad y desempleo, la crítica de Ahn a los chaebol es, al mismo tiempo, economía y política inteligentes. Los jóvenes, frustrados en lo económico, dan la bienvenida a Ahn con fuertes aplausos donde quiera que vaya, ya que expresa su inquietud de que los chaebol estén sofocando nuevas empresas que podrían crear muchos y muy necesarios puestos de trabajo.

Un obstáculo importante que Ahn deberá enfrentar si decide presentarse como candidato es la necesidad de organizar un partido político, o bien forjar una coalición entre los divididos partidos de la oposición surcoreana. Ninguna de estas es tarea fácil, y el precedente de la incompetencia del Partido Demócrata de Japón tras derrotar al Partido Liberal Democrático, que había gobernado por largos años, puede hacer que algunos votantes surcoreanos se sientan reacios a abandonar el GPN, bien conocido y probado en difíciles condiciones. Pero, a pesar de estas preocupaciones, es difícil imaginar que Ahn se haga a un lado en abril mientras los votantes piden cada vez más que se postule.

La certeza casi absoluta de que Ahn se unirá a la batalla no es una buena noticia para el ya inestable GPN, y especialmente para Park. En una de sus muy escasas apariciones en un popular programa de televisión el 2 de enero, llamó a Ahn “un profesor muy popular entre los jóvenes”. De hecho, si bien reconoció que los hombres y mujeres jóvenes se han “rebelado” contra los partidos establecidos, planteó que Ahn supuestamente los estimuló a ello a través de una serie de conferencias llamada “Concierto de la Juventud.”

Si bien la “Princesa de Hielo”, como se apoda a Park, sin duda mantendrá su núcleo de votantes, hoy más de 20 millones de surcoreanos tienen acceso a Twitter o Facebook en sus teléfonos móviles, y siguen la política a través de ellos. Son votantes nuevos o desencantados; cómo se expresen en las urnas en abril -y cuántos de sus conciudadanos sigan su ejemplo- determinará si Corea del Sur ha de vivir su propia primavera política.

¿Es posible que todo un pueblo enloquezca? Indiscutiblemente, algunas veces parece que sí.

Las imágenes de cientos de miles de norcoreanos dando alaridos de dolor por la muerte de Kim Jong-il sugieren algo que es muy desconcertante. Pero, ¿qué es?, ¿una muestra de delirio colectivo?, ¿la práctica de un ritual de masoquismo colectivo?

Kim fue un brutal dictador que se mimaba con los mejores licores de Francia (presuntamente gastaba en licores 500.000 dólares al año), con sushi fresco que le traían vía aérea desde Tokio, y que tenía a su disposición a los mejores y más caros chefs, mientras que millones de sus súbditos morían de hambre. Sin embargo, aquí ahora se ven a las masas a las que él acosó, a los súbditos a los que oprimió, lamentando a gritos su muerte, tal como si hubiesen perdido a su amado padre.

Es verdad que las personas que mostraron públicamente su pesar en Pyongyang pertenecen a la clase más privilegiada y es también verdad que los alaridos dramáticos son una de las formas tradicionales en las que los coreanos expresan congoja. Aun así, la conducta transmitida por los medios de comunicación desde Corea del Norte mostraba desolación. ¿Existe una explicación plausible para esto?

En primer lugar, los norcoreanos no están solos en esto. Casi ningún otro país sufrió más de lo que sufrió Polonia como consecuencia de las crueldades de Joseph Stalin; no obstante, muchos polacos también lloraron públicamente después de su muerte. Por supuesto, es posible que hubiesen sido obligados a ello – lo que es una manera horrenda de forzar a que las personas se auto-humillen. El pueblo no sólo tuvo que aguantar  patadas en los dientes, sino que también tuvo que agradecer a su torturador y lamentar su muerte.

Está claro que los norcoreanos que se niegan a mostrar una profunda tristeza en ocasiones de duelo público corren serios riesgos  – sus hijos son expulsados de la escuela, sus carreras se ven bloqueadas, tal vez incluso se los envíe a campos de trabajos forzados. Creer en la propaganda en un Estado totalitario puede ser una forma de auto-preservación. Cuanto uno siente mayor cantidad de dudas que no puede expresar abiertamente, la vida se hace más tortuosa.

Si un ser humano inteligente puede obligarse a sí mismo a creer en algo que es totalmente desquiciado es una pregunta interesante. ¿Puede suprimirse el escepticismo humano? En todo caso, no cabe duda de que dicho escepticismo puede ser silenciado.

Sin embargo, a pesar de que no existe duda sobre que la coerción es un factor en las escenas de Pyongyang, tal vez no sea la única explicación. La histeria colectiva puede tomar muchas formas. Sería demasiado fácil asumir que un comportamiento tan humillante siempre es falso, es decir es una forma de actuación.

Consideremos, por ejemplo, un estallido menos siniestro de histeria pública: las emociones extraordinarias expresadas por muchas personas en Gran Bretaña después de la muerte de la princesa Diana. Hombres y mujeres que la habían conocido sólo de a través de artículos en revistas o mediante cobertura televisiva afirmaron que la muerte de Diana los había afectado más profundamente que el fallecimiento de sus propios padres. Es probable que no estuviesen mintiendo. Puede parecer grotesco, pero el sentimiento parecía ser sincero.

A menudo suprimimos el dolor real, como por ejemplo aquel que es causado por la pérdida de un miembro de la familia. Entumecimiento, en lugar de histeria, es la norma. Sin embargo, nuestros sentimientos deben encontrar una salida de alguna manera, y dichos sentimientos puede surgir cuando una celebridad muere.

Toda la emoción relacionada a un duelo personal real que fue contenida puede salir a borbotones en un evento público. Las personas aparentemente están llorando por la princesa Diana, pero en realidad lloran por los seres queridos que perdieron. El sentimiento es desplazado – de hecho, es colocado en el lugar equivocado. El duelo de este tipo es una forma de sentimentalismo, pero no obstante puede ser sincero.

A veces, la muerte de una figura pública nos hace llorar la muerte de nuestras propias vidas. Es irrelevante si la persona que ha muerto es una princesa amada, un cantante popular, o un dictador sanguinario. Hemos crecido con ellos, son parte de nuestro ser. Cuando ellos mueren, un poco de nosotros muere con ellos.

La histeria de masas es altamente contagiosa. Visité Corea del Norte el año que el padre de Kim Jong-il, Kim Il-sung (el Gran Líder), murió. Como parte de nuestro programa de turismo obligatorio teníamos que rendir homenaje a su monumento– una estatua gigante de él – ubicado en el centro de Pyongyang. Nos pusimos de pie debajo de los pies de mármol del Gran Líder, rodeados de flores y coronas fúnebres, mientras que se reproducía el sonido de mujeres sollozando través de grandes y  sonoros altavoces.

Vi como filas y filas de escolares uniformados eran llevados por sus profesores ante el monumento. Los escolares, al principio, se veían impasibles, mostrando rostros de póker que son los rostros habituales de las personas que están acostumbradas  a esperar que las autoridades les digan cómo comportarse. A continuación, los profesores comenzaban a emitir sonidos apropiados para expresar congoja de manera pública. Los gemidos se iban convirtiendo en fuertes alaridos, luego venía el grito de “¡padre, padre!, ¿por qué nos has dejado?” Poco a poco, los niños seguían el ejemplo de sus profesores, y comenzaban a gritar con toda su alma. Lloraban al ver el llanto de sus profesores.

¿Fue esta una expresión auténtica de congoja? ¿Quién puede decir si fue así? Las lágrimas aparentaban ser bastante reales. Ambos, profesores y alumnos probablemente sintieron algo, incluso tal vez sintieron una profunda angustia. Puede que algunos de ellos estuviesen lo suficientemente adoctrinados como para sentir que el Gran Líder realmente era una figura paterna benigna, a quien le debían todo lo que tenían.

Otros, sin duda, desplazaron sus emociones, las mismas que podrían haber provenido de cualquier cantidad de penas privadas y públicas. Después de todo, los pobres norcoreanos tienen mucho por qué llorar. La vida en una dictadura totalitaria es una miseria cotidiana. Y, por lo tanto lloran por los hombres quienes son en gran parte los responsables de dicha miseria.

China está más cerca de Francia que de Chile. Después de largos años, recuerdo diferentes experiencias francesas relacionadas con China. Me tocó presenciar, en décadas pasadas, un periodo de descubrimientos, de búsqueda, de contrastes. Hace poco, en el Museo del Louvre, visité una extraordinaria exposición de la Ciudad Prohibida de Pekín. Es una muestra de encuentros entre Occidente y el misterioso y remoto Imperio del Centro. El centro del mundo conocido del siglo XVI, del siglo XVIII: China. Desde el punto de vista de los chinos, se entiende. Hasta allí llegaban los viajeros europeos: religiosos, exploradores, diplomáticos. Jesuitas franceses y alemanes dibujaban caballos en paisajes de bambúes, de canales y fuentes, de cielos desleídos. En la sala del trono vemos un sistema de campanas, de instrumentos musicales desconocidos: hay materiales pulidos, diferentes especies de piedras, que producen sonidos rituales, ceremoniales, al ser rozados por mallas metálicas. Las bases del trono, de los campanarios, son animales mitológicos. Y la mitología se reproduce en los impresionantes trajes imperiales, en los cascos negros y dorados, fabricados con cueros finos recubiertos de pintura lacada.

Recuerdo ahora el primer viaje, exploratorio, cultural, diplomático, de André Malraux a China. La llegada de los primeros embajadores chinos a Francia. Las relaciones entre China y Chile, por ejemplo, se conversaron y convinieron en París, en la Embajada chilena, durante la presidencia de Eduardo Frei Montalva. China se encontraba entonces en periodos de terror revolucionario: la política de las Cien Flores, el Gran Salto Adelante, la Revolución Cultural. Nombres que más bien servían para esconder que para definir. Pero manejaban la diplomacia como una política de Estado, como reflejo de los intereses permanentes de la nación, no como la acción de Gobiernos pasajeros o de ideologías no menos pasajeras. De ahí que las relaciones, una vez establecidas, no fueron rotas, ni siquiera suspendidas, a través de las crisis del Chile moderno.

Me tocó asistir a un almuerzo copioso, exótico, sorprendente, en el que un viejo embajador chino, compañero del presidente Mao, del Gran Timonel, invitaba a un grupo chileno a celebrar el gran evento: el intercambio de misiones diplomáticas entre Pekín y Santiago. La cortesía de nuestros anfitriones era tan extraordinaria como su gastronomía. Comenté después el asunto en una reunión privada, en mi casa de esos años, y una mujer joven, de cultura, que formaba parte del universo editorial de la época, perteneciente a una familia de antigua aristocracia germánica, me dijo la siguiente frase literal: “Soy una mao” (Je suis une mao). “¿Y sabes lo que te pasaría si estuvieras ahora en Pekín?”. Ella contestó que sabía perfectamente, e hizo un gesto de cortarse el pescuezo. Pero lo aceptaba con gusto, como expiación de sus pecados de mujer privilegiada.

Eran las manifestaciones de la Revolución Cultural en Francia. Me acuerdo de jóvenes maoístas que mostraban el Libro Rojo de Mao en los pasillos del aeropuerto de Orly. Lo hacían con movimientos sincopados, de gimnastas o acróbatas, y el movimiento conjunto adquiría un viso de irrealidad, algo cercano a un delirio. Desde luego, las políticas delirantes son altamente peligrosas. Algunos ya lo sospechábamos, pero más tarde se supo de forma irrefutable.

Me atrevo a pensar que China tocó fondo en materia de ensayos sociales revolucionarios. El gran cambio moderno, producto de la dura experiencia anterior, comenzó hacia 1978 con el Gobierno de Deng Xiaoping. Me acordé en estos días del almuerzo de hace 34 años; ocurrió en una cena frente a una mesa giratoria llena de fuentes de todos los colores y las formas imaginables. Era una alta autoridad china que quería escuchar opiniones de un grupo de embajadores acerca de la crisis europea. Al final me dijo en inglés, en voz baja: no me extraña que exista crisis cuando se trabajan siete horas diarias durante cinco días a la semana.

Era como decir: se acabaron las teorías, entramos en el terreno de las duras realidades. La crisis del euro y del dólar inquieta, sin la menor duda, a los dirigentes de la China moderna. Es una crisis de sus principales clientes, de los compradores de sus productos. Y podría ocurrir que China, con sus enormes reservas, que corresponden a gran parte de la liquidez monetaria occidental, ayude a Europa y a Estados Unidos a salir de la coyuntura actual. Sería algo nunca visto en la historia moderna, quizá comparable a un Plan Marshall chino.

Por mi parte, pienso que habría que analizar con cuidado el comentario de mi anfitrión, pronunciado mientras se levantaba de la mesa bien servida para tomar un avión a Pekín. Europa trata de mantener en forma simultánea su desarrollo económico y su sistema avanzado de protección social. Nosotros admiramos este modelo de sociedad y nos gustaría mucho poder imitarlo. Pero el modelo entró en su etapa más peligrosa y nadie sabe si podrá sobrevivir. Nosotros esperamos que sobreviva y que podamos aplicarlo en la América hispana. Al fin y al cabo, allá somos expertos en crisis: hemos pasado por todas y estamos, quizá, mejor que nunca en nuestra historia, pero no sabemos por cuánto tiempo. Si nos salvamos contra toda teoría, con la ayuda de grandes potencias emergentes, tampoco nos opondremos en nombre de especulaciones ideológicas. Podríamos recordar, a este respecto, a uno de los grandes maestros del corazón central de Europa: gris es la teoría, pero verde es la rama del árbol eterno de la vida.

India ended 2011 amid political chaos, as the much-awaited “Lokpal Bill,” aimed at creating a strong, independent anti-corruption agency, collapsed amid a welter of recrimination in the parliament’s upper house, after having passed the lower house two days earlier. The episode, which leaves the bill in suspended animation until its possible revival at the next session, raises fundamental issues for Indian politics which will need to be addressed in the New Year.

The need for the bill – Lokpal loosely translates as “ombudsman” – was first mooted in 1968, but eight subsequent attempts to create one had never reached a parliamentary vote. The credit for imparting urgency to an issue that had become a hardy perennial of Indian politics goes to the mass campaign that coalesced around a Gandhian leader, Anna Hazare, who insisted that a “Jan Lokpal Bill” (“People’s Ombudsman”) drafted by his followers had to be enacted in toto.

Two well-publicized fasts by Hazare, attended by hundreds of thousands and breathlessly covered by India’s news channels, pushed the government to expedite preparation and consideration of a bill. The draft differed in many respects from Hazare’s, but it retained what most people sought – an independent agency with its own investigative resources and prosecutorial powers.

After parliamentarians were summoned back to work after Christmas in an unprecedented extended winter session, the bill passed the Lok Sabha (the lower house), where the ruling coalition commands a narrow majority. But the government’s attempts to entrench the law in a constitutional amendment, thereby elevating the authority of the office, failed to command the necessary two-thirds support. Still, the bill’s passage after 43 years of stalemate was little short of historic.

The action then shifted to the Rajya Sabha (the upper house), where the government lacks a majority. After a session lasting until midnight, punctuated by the introduction of 187 amendments (most by the opposition but some by coalition allies of the ruling Congress Party), the government pleaded incapable of processing all the amendments in time. Agitated members shouted their dissatisfaction (one rather melodramatically tearing up the draft bill), and the Rajya Sabha’s chairman, Indian Vice-President Hamid Ansari, halted the proceedings without a vote.

All sides have flung accusations at each other. Some allege that the government’s bill, by requiring a similar ombudsman in each of India’s states, was an assault on Indian federalism. Others claim that the government colluded in the disruptions in the Rajya Sabha, because it knew that it could not win the vote; some, preposterously, suggest that the government did not want the bill to pass; still others claim that it would have created such a “weak” Lokpal that it was not worth passing. The government has grimly suggested that it would go back to the drawing board with a view to reviving the bill during the parliament’s budget session, due in March.

Whatever happens, the need to tackle corruption is undeniable. In a recent survey by the anti-corruption watchdog group Transparency International, 54% of Indian respondents said that they had paid bribes in the last two years, in interactions with police, bureaucrats, and even educational institutions.

While the media have tended to focus on big-ticket corruption, such as that revealed by ongoing scandals concerning on the allocation of spectrum to telecom companies or the organization of the Commonwealth Games, petty corruption has often affected people more directly. The mass outpouring of support for the quirky Hazare reflected the genuine frustration that most Indians feel over the corruption that assails their daily lives, rather than a clear understanding of Hazare’s proposals to combat it.

Every time a poor pregnant woman must bribe an orderly to get a hospital bed (to which she is entitled), or else deliver her baby on the floor; every time a widow cannot get the pension that should be hers by right, without bribing a clerk to process the papers; and every time a son cannot obtain his father’s death certificate without greasing the palm of a petty municipal official, Indians know that the system has failed them. They are right to vent their anger at endemic graft.

Indeed, corruption in India is far broader and deeper than the headlines suggest. The Lokpal will not be a panacea. It is one instrument among many that are needed, along with reforms to increase transparency, protect whistleblowers, prevent tax evasion, clean up campaign financing, and reduce officials’ discretionary power, which allows them to profit from the power to permit.

Inspectors and prosecutors can catch only some criminals; India needs to change the system so that fewer crimes are committed. Corruption isn’t only high-level governmental malfeasance; overcoming it requires nothing short of a change in Indians’ mindset. For every Indian bribe-taker, there is a bribe-giver looking for a shortcut or an undue advantage. To paraphrase Mahatma Gandhi, we need to be the change that we wish to see in India. Corruption will not end until Indians stop giving bribes as well as stop taking them.

As an elected politician, I am well aware that Hazare’s campaign has sparked the imagination and enthusiasm of many young people in my country. India’s parliament must continue to debate all the options available. It is important that we do not betray public expectations; but nor can we act irresponsibly. We must do the right thing, but we must also do the thing right.

A peculiar feature of Chinese society is that a complaint process runs parallel to, but outside, the legal system.

Victims of corruption and injustice have no faith in the law, and yet they dream that an upright official will emerge to right their wrongs. Although a complaint mechanism is in place at all levels of Chinese government, petitioners seem to believe that the central authorities are less susceptible to corruption, and so make Beijing their destination. By some estimates, more than 10 million complaints are filed around the country each year, far more than are heard by the regular courts.

Law in China, at least on paper, is more firmly established than it once was, and some legal experts propose doing away with the grievance system. But the government has retained it — perhaps it, too, lacks confidence in China’s laws. Also — and crucially — it wants to leave the petitioners some slender hope, a fantasy that one day injustice will find redress. If all hope is lost, petitioners may take more extreme action.

Often, the State Bureau for Letters and Visits simply goes through the motions of registering the complaints, then asks the petitioners’ local governments to look into them. But years of failure have sharpened the petitioners’ wits. They know that the only way they can put pressure on their local governments is by persistent, repeated visits to Beijing, and they realize that collective visits are even more effective. The government rigidly controls demonstrations, but the collective submission of a complaint remains a means for ordinary people to exert pressure.

At the same time, some petitioners have come to focus more on the process of lodging a complaint than on the outcome. Seeing the judiciary as biased and the grievance process as a sham, they treat petitioning as a means of extortion.

Here’s an example. In the fall of 2007, during the Chinese Communist Party’s 17th Congress, a man from Shandong Province phoned his village chief and told him he was in Tianjin and about to board a train for Beijing to appeal a miscarriage of justice. The village chief was shocked: if the petitioner were to appear in Tiananmen Square at such a prominent moment, not only would the chief lose his job, but his immediate superiors — the township and county chiefs — would be disgraced as well. He begged the villager not to go to Beijing. All right, the man said, but there was a price for his acquiescence: 20,000 yuan, about $2,600 at the time. The village chief put down the phone, withdrew this sum from public funds, and personally delivered it that very day, to the man’s wife.

The pay-off should not surprise us. Alarmed by worsening social unrest, government officials have adopted “stability maintenance” as a mantra — and a pretext to stifle protest. While the grievance process coexists politely with the regular legal system, the insistence on maintaining stability is, all too often, utterly at odds with it.

The priority now given to keeping order has enabled local officials to regain the initiative when there are complaints or protests. In the name of maintaining stability, the interception and detention of petitioners seems perfectly reasonable, and higher-ups look the other way.

After the collision of two high-speed trains near the southeastern city of Wenzhou last July, relatives of those killed and injured rushed to the scene. Three days later, law offices in Wenzhou received an urgent notice from the local judicial bureau and lawyers’ association: “The train collision is a major, sensitive incident that bears on social stability.” The notice directed lawyers to “immediately report” all requests for legal assistance to the judicial bureau and the lawyers’ association and not to “respond to such requests without authorization.”

When the contents of this circular were revealed by the news media, an uproar ensued. The lawyers’ association took responsibility and issued an apology, saying it had issued the notice without judicial permission.

But the lawyers’ association takes orders from the judiciary, so this apology was greeted on the Internet with derision. It reminded me of the old adage, “A soldier fears his superior more than he fears the foe.”

The recent episode in Wukan, a village in southern China where residents staged an uprising that received international attention, reflected the uneven balance among the grievance process, the legal system and the insistence on stability. Local officials ignored complaints about corruption involving the sale of farmland and then cracked down on the subsequent protests. The uproar was eventually resolved through political arrangements, not judicial action.

In China, an extramarital love interest who comes between a happy couple is known pejoratively as “Little Three.” The expression appears in a joke about three kindergartners who want to play house.

“I’ll be the daddy,” the boy says.

“I’ll be the mommy,” one girl says.

Another girl frowns: “I guess I’ll have to be Little Three.”

If the law, the grievance process and stability maintenance were ever to play house, I think we’d see the following exchange:

“I’m the daddy,” Stability Maintenance says.

“I’m the mommy,” Grievance Process says.

The Law pouts. “Well, I’m Little Three.”

Cada rincón del mundo tiene sus problemas, y en términos económicos el gran problema del año 2011 ha sido la crisis de deuda europea, que ha alarmado incluso a los Estados Unidos y ha sido en parte responsable del colapso de los gobiernos de Grecia, Italia y España. El suceso más notable del año fue, por supuesto, la Primavera Árabe, que derrocó una por una las dictaduras en todo el mundo musulmán, y aún no ha llegado a su culminación. Pero desde una perspectiva verdaderamente global, resulta difícil no concluir que el pasado año ha sido el año de Asia. Ha sido un tiempo en Asia de éxito y desastre, del triunfo humano y la miseria humana. Ha sido también un período que ha costado miles de vidas y probablemente ha salvado a miles más. Para Occidente, Asia parece estar muy lejos. Pero que se lo digan a las madres y padres de Estados Unidos, que hasta este mes han perdido más de 6.000 de sus hijos e hijas en fútiles guerras en Irak y en Afganistán. Eso es motivo para recordar la dura mano de Asia.

Un acto de 2011 que tal vez haya salvado vidas fue el asesinato de Osama Bin Laden en Pakistán en mayo. Un hombre que se dedicó a eliminar a la raza humana era inevitable que fuera eliminado, tarde o temprano, por la raza humana. Es muy posible que la pérdida de su líder espiritual iniciara el declive de Al Qaeda como una fuerza espiritual. El año también trajo la desaparición de un tirano asiático, el dictador norcoreano Kim Jong Il, cuya muerte la semana pasada provocó aclamaciones en las calles de Corea del Sur.

¿Por qué seres humanos como Bin Laden intentan masacrar a sus semejantes cuando las fuerzas de la naturaleza son perfectamente capaces de hacer el trabajo? Asia, una vez más, ha sido el centro de desastres épicos y pérdidas humanas. Japón fue la principal víctima. El terremoto de marzo y el tsunami que azotó la región a lo largo de la costa del Pacífico fue el cuarto mayor terremoto registrado a nivel mundial y el más grande en la historia de Japón. El subsiguiente tsunami provocó 15.839 muertos y 3.642 desaparecidos. La recuperación llevará mucho tiempo, gracias a la principal consecuencia del tsunami: explosión, fugas radiactivas y fallos de equipos en la planta de energía nuclear de Fukushima Daiichi, una catástrofe nuclear sólo superada por la de 1986 en Chernobyl. Juntos, el terremoto, tsunami y las explosiones fueron la mayor emergencia nacional a la que Japón se ha enfrentado desde la Segunda Guerra Mundial. La economía de la zona fue destruida: los pescadores se han visto afectados y 160.000 de ellos permanecen desempleados. Y ¡recientemente se ha sugerido que las consecuencias nucleares de Fukushima podrían haber también ocasionado la muerte de 14.000 personas en los Estados Unidos! Inundaciones, incendios, huracanes, maremotos: Asia en 2011 no ha carecido de ninguno de ellos. Tailandia en octubre sufrió su peor inundación en más de medio siglo. Australia tuvo desastrosas inundaciones. Y en Mindanao los tifones e inundaciones en las últimas pocas semanas dejaron más de mil muertos, ciudades y campos en ruinas y la población sin comida y refugio.

Los logros asiáticos también emergen como una gigantesca sombra sobre el futuro. Cuando a un candidato republicano para las elecciones presidenciales de este año en Estados Unidos le preguntaron qué era lo que su país más temía, respondió sin dudarlo: «China». Un profesor de Princeton acaba de publicar A Contest for Supremacy: China, America and the Struggle for Mastery in Asia (2011), testimonio elocuente de la creciente sensación de incompetencia que los estadounidenses sienten al comparar los dos países. China es la nueva potencia mundial que amenaza con apropiarse del futuro de la humanidad. En 2010 superó a Japón para convertirse en la segunda economía más grande del mundo después de Estados Unidos. No cabe la menor duda de su futuro potencial. De muchas maneras indirectas, y no tan solo a través de la inversión de capital, empieza a controlar una parte esencial de la economía mundial. Los economistas opinan unánimemente que para 2020 será la economía líder del mundo.

Los economistas casi siempre se equivocan, pero en este caso pueden tener razón. El crecimiento chino ha sido extraordinario, desde 1980 hasta 2010, su economía creció 18 veces más, un promedio anual del 10 por ciento. China ha sido la segunda mayor economía mundial desde 2002 en términos de producción, y según las previsiones del FMI superará a los Estados Unidos en 2016. Otros argumentan que ya lo ha hecho. Mao Zedong se jactó en 1949: «El pueblo chino se ha puesto en pie», y China lo ha hecho de manera notable. Ahora hace más coches que los Estados Unidos y Japón juntos, y es el mayor productor mundial de muchos otros artículos. La semana pasada fue más allá al poner fin a su dependencia de los satélites GPS de Estados Unidos, con el inicio del funcionamiento de su propio satélite Beidou, que cubrirá la mayor parte del Asia de la zona del Pacífico para el próximo año y, luego el mundo en 2020.

Y mientras hablamos de China, no podemos olvidar la otra gran economía asiática: India. Desde 1980 hasta 2010 el PIB de India aumentó seis veces más, un promedio anual del 6%. Desde mediados de los años 2000, el promedio de crecimiento ha aumentado el 8 por ciento, y en 2011 India puede probablemente haber pasado a Japón en ser la tercera economía más grande en términos de producción. Las cifras, por supuesto, deben equilibrarse con muchos otros factores que siguen impidiendo la modernización de China y la India.

Por último, a pesar de la potencial inestabilidad política de casi todos los países asiáticos, podemos considerar algunos signos favorables. En primer lugar, parece que los movimientos de protesta contra la corrupción en la India han logrado más éxito que cualquier protesta durante el movimiento de indignados en Europa o en Estados Unidos. Los partidarios de la huelga de hambre contra la corrupción llevada a cabo por el activista Anna Hazare han dominado la atención de la prensa en la India en los últimos meses, y un Gobierno que recuerda cómo Gandhi logró el éxito ha tenido miedo de tomar duras medidas contra él. Esta semana Hazare amenazó con iniciar un movimiento de desobediencia civil.

En segundo lugar, uno saluda con alivio el fuerte papel de la mujer en la política asiática. Desde la primera ministra australiana Julia Gillard a la presidenta del Partido del Congreso de India Sonia Gandhi, las mujeres durante el 2011 han tomado el liderazgo en Asia. Hubo, por supuesto, importantes figuras femeninas en años pasados, como Bandaranaike de Sri Lanka, Benazir Bhutto de Pakistán y Corazón Aquino de Filipinas, pero los nuevos jugadores también son sumamente significativos. Gillard ha desempeñado un papel importante en redefinir la manera en que su Partido Laborista considera temas como la inmigración y la política exterior. Sonia Gandhi, nacida en Italia y esposa del antiguo primer ministro Rajiv Gandhi, se convirtió en la mujer más poderosa de la India por motivos dinásticos, y ha dedicado considerable energía a la promoción de la mujer en la política. Y en esta lista no podía dejar de figurar, una persona a quien dediqué un artículo el mes pasado: Aung San Suu Kyi, premiada con el Premio Nobel y la principal esperanza para la democracia en Birmania.

Puede parecer sorprendente para algunos que las sociedades dominadas por los hombres de Asia son capaces de producir mujeres líderes. El hecho es que las mujeres son en alguna medida extensiones del poder masculino. Shaikh Hasina, primera ministra de Bangladesh, tomó el relevo de su padre asesinado. Park Geun-hye, hija del presidente de Corea del Sur entre 1961 y 1979, es uno de los dos candidatos probables para suceder al actual presidente. Otra recién llegada al liderazgo político es Yingluck Shinawatra, primera ministra de Tailandia. Debe su éxito a su hermano, un exiliado antiguo primer ministro que controla el partido político más fuerte del país. Tailandia, víctima de las recientes catastróficas inundaciones, fue el único país en el sudeste asiático a experimentar un cambio de liderazgo en 2011 cuando ella y su partido ganaron una victoria decisiva en las elecciones de julio.

Los hombres traen la guerra, las mujeres traen la paz. Las mujeres líderes de Asia ofrecen nuevas esperanzas para un continente que tal vez pronto lidere el mundo.

Yo entré en Corea del Norte en septiembre de 1992. No se puede decir que la visité porque no es país para turistas, aunque entonces apareciera por allí algún alemán nostálgico de la República Democrática (RDA). El más importante hotel proyectado nunca, el Ryukyung, de 105 plantas, lo iniciaron en 1987 y sigue en obras; aseguran que en abril del 2012 inaugurarán las 25 de abajo. Hacía años que había caído el muro de Berlín y admito que mi perplejidad ante la idea de ver en vivo y en directo una monarquía comunista, algo inédito en la historia de la humanidad, me incitó a la aventura. La curiosidad nos pierde.

Entonces regía los destinos del país el Querido Líder, Kim Jong Il, porque el Gran Líder, Kim Il Sung, su padre, estaba dando las últimas boqueadas. Moriría un par de años más tarde. Es posible que me equivoque en los apelativos retóricos del liderazgo, porque quizá al hijo se le llamaba Amado Líder o algo por el estilo, cosa muy importante, dado que jamás se pronunciaba su nombre. Había que entender que cuando los traductores –la jefa traducía al francés y un siervo de la gleba, recién salido de nuestro medievo, hablaba un castellano ortopédico, pero decente– se referían al Gran Líder o al Amado Líder cabía entender que se trataba de Padre e Hijo, con mayúsculas.

En mis limitaciones para predecir los procesos históricos me parecía imposible que aquello pudiera seguir. Y hete aquí, que ahora acaba de morir el Amado Líder y le ha sustituido un nieto del Gran Líder, del que los servicios de información occidentales saben mucho pero que nosotros apenas si conocemos su nombre, media docena de fotos y un currículo que haría palidecer de ansiedad a cualquier candidato a oposiciones. De nombre Kim Jong Un y que ni siquiera es el mayor de sus hermanos, sino el pequeño.

Mi experiencia coreana resultó inaudita. No había visto una cosa igual en mi vida. Aunque mi conocimiento personal de los regímenes comunistas era limitada –Praga en los sesenta, Rumanía en los setenta, y alguna entrada y salida al Berlín oriental–, lo de Corea del Norte superaba cualquier medida. Era un país sometido a una tiranía absoluta, sin resquicios. Los expertos aseguran que se trata de la experiencia estaliniana multiplicada por ciertos rasgos de la tradición oriental. Puede ser. Pero lo más llamativo era el aislamiento. Vivían en otra galaxia y lo más escandaloso es que pensaban que las otras galaxias donde habitábamos los demás eran peores que la suya.

Nunca olvidaré el circo. En Pyongyang, la capital, tenían un gran espectáculo circense montado como si se tratara de un coliseo con millares de asientos, parcelados, donde eran constatables las diferencias entre el común y los diversos estratos del funcionariado del poder. Parecido a nuestro Liceu, pero a lo bestia. Los ejercicios gimnásticos y sobre el trapecio constituían un prodigio de talento y audacia. Soy un amante del circo y puedo asegurar que asistí a uno de esos espectáculos únicos, pensados por profesionales con tradición e inteligencia. Pero lo que me dejó noqueado fueron los payasos. Tenía mi oreja pegada a la del traductor, pero no hubiera sido necesario. El teatro circo se desternillaba de risa, literalmente se volcaban en aplausos ante un par de tipos, vestidos de vagabundos de la peor especie, que representaban la vida insufrible de sus vecinos de Corea del Sur. Toda el hambre, las necesidades, el miedo, que ellos sentirían apenas salieran de aquel recinto, constituía un motivo de chanza al convertirse en la vida de los otros.

¿Cómo es posible que se lo creyeran? ¿Qué otra opción tenían? Aislados de cualquier información sobre el mundo real, no sólo del que había más allá de sus fronteras sino del propio, se habían convertido en personajes de Orwell. Bastaba visitar el Museo de Bellas Artes, o como se llamara el museo nacional dedicado a la pintura, para constatar una tradición cultural de una riqueza comparable a Japón o China. Habían sido precursores en mundos artísticos que luego se trasladaron a otros lugares de Asia. Pero apenas uno salía de aquellas salas fascinantes de pintura antigua, chocabas con interminables salones dedicados al Gran Líder, donde el arte se limitaba a la retórica, la grandilocuencia y la vulgaridad.

No conozco Corea del Sur, pero puedo asegurar que Corea del Norte es de una belleza tal que ni siquiera la iniquidad de una tiranía puede achicar. Esa propensión totalitaria por los grandes monumentos, los grandes hoteles, los grandes palacios, no lograba apagar la fuerza de una naturaleza excepcional en su hermosa exuberancia. Las residencias palaciegas, que al parecer esperan a millares de turistas que nunca llegarán, respiran violencia y terror; como si hubieran sido pensadas para que Stanley Kubrick rodara El resplandor. Algo impensable porque estaban fuera del cine, de la realidad y hasta de la más mínima contemporaneidad. Recuerdo que el traductor, para demostrar su alto nivel de cultura occidental, me preguntó sonriente: “¿Qué tal sigue Picasso?”. Cuando le respondí que había muerto hacía muchos años, no pareció creerme, como si se tratara de un intento por socavar sus convicciones. Al fin y al cabo, ellos conocían el nombre de Picasso ligado sólo a una paloma, la de la paz, que dibujó para ellos. Nada más.

Pero el régimen de Corea del Norte tiene algo que lo hace invulnerable. Su ejército y su arsenal nuclear. Si tienes armas de destrucción masiva eres alguien; si no las tienes, estás expuesto a una intervención. Ocurrió en la vieja Yugoslavia y en Iraq; invadieron porque no las había. La amenaza es el elemento disuasorio más trascendental. Una tiranía absoluta se convierte en interlocutor privilegiado porque tiene un arma que te puede hacer un daño incalculable.

Hemos perdido la pasión periodística, o así lo entiendo yo cuando contemplo, no sin estupor, el derribo de Gadafi en Libia, y al tiempo que nadie se haya tomado la molestia de entrevistar a todos aquellos profesores españoles que se convirtieron en exégetas del Libro verde, auténtica biblia teórica de la revolución gadafista. Si la memoria no me engaña, hubo hasta un congreso en Trípoli, con notable asistencia autóctona. ¿Calladitos? Ni siquiera hay quien les pregunte. Estamos con encefalograma plano. Lo más novedoso de nuestros medios de comunicación son los anuncios publicitarios.

Algo similar ocurre con Corea del Norte. Recuerdo que antes de ir a Pyongyang me entrevisté con algún profesor catalán que había sido apasionado seguidor del pensamiento Zuche, el invento teórico, supuestamente marxista-leninista, de Kim Il Sung, el Gran Líder. ¿No hay nadie que les busque ahora para que nos iluminen sobre la inmarcesible monarquía coreana del Norte? Saben bastante más que nosotros, lo vivieron de primera mano, y ahí están esperándonos, no sé si con las mejores ganas pero al menos con la sabiduría que da la veteranía en el conocimiento.

Nos hemos reído tantas veces de la socialdemocracia sueca, por ejemplo, que deberíamos hacer una reflexión sobre lo que nosotros considerábamos una dictadura progresista, que aseguraba y consolidaba los pasos hacia la igualdad, frente a aquello que juzgábamos aguachirle. Lo fundamental era tomar el poder. Si el poder era tiránico o no, importaba poco, lo trascendental consistía en sus realizaciones. Y nos encontramos ahora con que la única experiencia comunista es esa monarquía coreana, tan surrealista como una película de ciencia ficción con protagonistas políticos.

La constatación de que una tiranía no puede ser progresista es una lección que nos llegó demasiado tarde; cuando el siglo XX terminaba y nosotros habíamos perdido el norte, la ilusión y hasta la capacidad de decir aquellas cosas que aprendimos en la frustración de una lógica derrota. Las tiranías que nacen progresistas acaban sirviendo a los que mandan, nada más. Y entonces se transforman en ese monstruo que ninguno quiere reconocer como criatura de su imaginación.

La súbita muerte de Kim Jong Il ha suscitado intensos debates sobre el futuro del régimen norcoreano. El interés del mundo se centra en el modo en que su hijo Kim Jong Un logrará mantener el control directo del país a pesar del poco tiempo que ha habido para preparar la sucesión. El 22 de diciembre el periódico oficial de Corea del Norte, Rodong Sinmun, se refirió a Kim Jong Un como “líder del pueblo” en un editorial de primera página. El editorial también utilizó veintiuna veces la palabra songun (primacía militar), la ideología oficial de Kim Jong Il. ¿Superará el régimen norcoreano las recurrentes penurias económicas y la presión internacional orientada al abandono del programa nuclear? ¿Qué nueva estructura interna de gobierno pondrá en práctica la nueva dirección política? ¿Resolverá Kim Jong Un la cuestión nuclear?

Agravada por el aislamiento internacional provocado por la insistencia en continuar con el desarrollo nuclear, la situación económica del país no deja de deteriorarse. El régimen ha logrado paliar los efectos de la escasez de alimentos gracias a la ayuda de China. La única escapatoria a su desesperada situación económica es la apertura de fronteras y la colaboración con otros países y, en especial, con Corea del Sur. Ahora bien, ya que se opone a las esperanzas del Sur, Corea del Norte está perdiendo la oportunidad de beneficiarse de la cooperación internacional y de reconciliarse con su vecino meridional y con Estados Unidos.

El empeoramiento de la economía obliga a las personas a ser responsables por completo de su sustento. La economía estatal apenas proporciona los bienes necesarios para la supervivencia. Y los norcoreanos deben obtener por su cuenta los artículos de primera necesidad. El principal impulso para crear un mercado es un proceso desde abajo, y no desde arriba con la dirección del Estado. En ausencia de subsidios y raciones estatales, los norcoreanos no tienen otra opción que dedicarse a actividades económicas ilegales. En las familias predomina la apropiación legal o ilegal de la propiedad estatal. Las pequeñas compañías privadas pagan en contrapartida un soborno al Estado. Este, a su vez, proporciona protección no oficial.

Algunos observadores creen que la inestabilidad política y las dificultades económicas aumentarán así que lo hagan las defecciones de importantes sostenedores de las élites políticas, lo cual conducirá al hundimiento del régimen. Pero son también muchos los que opinan que, debido a la dificultad de encontrar alternativas, el régimen sobrevivirá de un modo u otro, al margen de las dificultades. Corea del Norte se enfrenta a enormes problemas, pero la muerte del máximo dirigente hace que la sucesión hereditaria actúe como principal factor de respaldo a la legitimidad del régimen. Y Kim Jong Un necesita legitimar su mandato. El culto a la personalidad y la violencia ejercida sin escrúpulos lo ayudarán a cimentar su poder.

Su padre, Kim Jong Il, abrazó la ideología de la primacía militar y la utilizó en combinación con la violencia dictatorial. Hasta ahora el régimen norcoreano ha demostrado una sorprendente capacidad de resistencia. Los hechos históricos ponen de manifiesto que Kim Jong Il aseguró la supervivencia de su poder desarrollando y ampliando la capacidad nuclear y de misiles. A corto plazo, el poder militar seguirá siendo fuerte y la actual crisis económica no amenazará la estabilidad del régimen. Resulta difícil esperar un derrumbe súbito. La posibilidad de que se produzca por factores internos, como un levantamiento civil, es muy remota. Sin embargo, a largo plazo, las repercusiones de los conflictos de poder internos y externos acabarán por provocar la caída del régimen. De todos modos, si Corea del Norte mejora su entorno internacional abandonando el programa nuclear y normalizando sus relaciones diplomáticas con EE.UU. podrá gozar de un sistema político más relajado. Ahora bien, en estos momentos resulta prematuro esperar reformas en el país. Hasta ahora, Corea del Norte ha superado la fragilidad política y económica sometiendo a su pueblo por medio del terror. Un mal aprovechamiento de los recursos naturales acabará por acentuar las dificultades económicas y conducirá a un empeoramiento de la situación. Los impulsos paranoides del régimen hacen que se aferre a la política de la primacía militar. Pero la débil economía norcoreana no puede sostener las ambiciones de sus militares. En la actualidad, el ejército norcoreano actúa como combatiente y como ejército de respaldo logístico; no es posible que pueda cumplir con eficacia ese papel dual.

Si repasamos las políticas económicas seguidas hasta hoy, vemos que el país ha sido hostil a las reformas orientadas al mercado. La libertad política sigue siendo muy restringida. Sin embargo, al recrudecerse las dificultades económicas, el dominio del régimen dictatorial se está debilitando poco a poco. Aumenta el número de desertores, y la corrupción parece ya descontrolada. Además, el firme crecimiento de los negocios privados es un indicio de lo que sucederá en el futuro.

La presión desde la base social para llevar a cabo medidas de reforma aumenta a medida que disminuye la capacidad del régimen. Con el lento cambio de posición del pueblo y las élites de Corea del Norte, las fuerzas en favor de la aplicación de una economía de mercado serán cada vez más poderosas. Sin reformas del sistema, el poder político y militar de Kim Jong Un no estará garantizado. Eso significa que Corea del Norte se enfrentará pronto a la inestabilidad y las luchas de poder.

With China stumping assertively on the world stage, one might think Beijing would be open, even gracious, about the country’s past. To the contrary, history remains an exceedingly sensitive subject here, drawing relentless attention from authorities anxious to keep all skeletons safely in closets.

As a university professor in China, I face the consequences of this official apprehension every day. My young, bright students know little about their country’s recent past. What they do know tends to agree with government-sponsored discourse on the pride and glory of China’s rise after a century of humiliation by Western powers. Library and bookstore shelves tell, with enviable conviction, this same story of national grandeur. And it is hard to get around that government-approved tale. Some of us at the University of Nottingham at Ningbo recently attempted to order a standard Western work on China’s history, Jonathan Spence’s “The Search for Modern China.” Our efforts ran aground when customs officials refused to allow the book shipment into the country. The agent courteously proposed to manually cut out the censored sections — including photos of the Tiananmen Square massacre and Spence’s account of the Cultural Revolution — to get the customs clearance. These are things the Chinese people are not supposed to know.

Historians of China face secrecy and restrictions everywhere as the key archives remain largely inaccessible, even though the Chinese archives law provides for the opening of official documents to the public after 30 years. Some progress has been made with declassification, notably at the Chinese Foreign Ministry, to appease international scholars. Academics can now read, though not print, digitized memos and telegrams from 1949 through 1965. Still, even these documents have been pre-selected to avoid potential embarrassment for the government. The party archives, which host the records of the Communist Party’s holy of holies — the Politburo — are closed. Anyone in China interested in studying the origins of the Korean War, which took place more than 60 years ago, will not get very far. The Great Leap Forward? The Cultural Revolution? Same story. Uncomfortable episodes of China’s recent history have become a subject of official amnesia and a victim of the government’s monopoly on truth.

Consider the case of Lin Biao, a hero of the Chinese Civil War, and later Mao Zedong’s comrade in arms during the Cultural Revolution, who died in 1971. Lin, who is well remembered for his appearances atop Tiananmen Square, the Little Red Book in his hand, supposedly conspired to kill the Chinese leader, even though he was Mao’s anointed successor. When the plot was discovered, he fled to the Soviet Union, then China’s archenemy, but he never made it: His plane crashed in Mongolia after allegedly running out of fuel.

This is the official story; this is as much as the Chinese government is willing to say 40 years on. We do not know whether Lin Biao really planned to kill Mao. Their fallout could have been a personal feud or, as the chairman later claimed, a policy disagreement (Lin Biao is said to have opposed the Sino-American opening).

In 2003, the crash report, including grisly photos of burned victims, was leaked from Mongolian intelligence archives. Contrary to the official Chinese explanation, the report (which was made available to me) showed that the plane had plenty of fuel when it crashed. No attempt had been made to land the plane, and weather conditions were fine. Mongolian investigators concluded that the pilot made an error. But they had no access to the plane’s black box; the Soviet military took it, along with one of the plane engines. The Soviets later came back and took the heads of the two victims with golden teeth, which, it turned out, belonged to Lin Biao and his wife.

These heads are said to remain at the archives of Russia’s Federal Security Service. Moscow has not released its findings about the crash, and China has remained silent. Although we know precious little about Lin Biao’s death, we know enough to conclude that at least part of Beijing’s explanation is a fabrication. In the absence of archival openness and amid repression of free historical inquiry, these kinds of myths and fabrications underpin the official discourse on history in China — hence, the need to repulse the infiltration of foreign books. Despite the best efforts of committed Chinese historians who defy government restrictions (and risk jail terms) to learn more, the government still has an iron grip on the past.

The time has come for strong and proud China to cast aside this fear of the past, which is utterly incompatible with Beijing’s search for international prestige and acclaim. True, China’s history is full of blood and tragedy, often directly caused by leaders’ misrule. It is also full of remarkable feats and formidable breakthroughs on the path toward modernity. Both facets of its history, like the proverbial halves of yin and yang, make China what it is today. World events suggest that government efforts to control how history is read and taught are doomed to failure. The question is when today’s China will realize it should not resort to methods of information control handed down from a tyranny.

The Sri Lankan government’s defeat of the separatist Tamil Tigers in 2009 ended a three-decade war that took tens of thousands of lives. But only now is the government beginning to acknowledge its huge human cost. Two weeks ago, a government-appointed reconciliation commission released a long-awaited report, giving voice to the war’s civilian victims for the first time.

From August 2010 to January 2011, hundreds of people appeared before the commission in tears, begging for news of their loved ones, many of whom had last been seen in the custody of security forces. A doctor spoke of how they managed to survive under deplorable conditions in places “littered with dead bodies and carcasses of dying animals.”

In October, I visited a rural school just 6 miles from Mullivaikkal, on the northeast coast of the island, where the army finally crushed the Tigers — an area still off-limits to civilians. The government says there are too many land mines to allow resettlement; critics say there are too many bodies in mass graves.

The classroom had a new roof, but more than two years after the war ended, its walls were still pockmarked with shrapnel, a window was shattered and the floor was cracked. Most students’ uniforms were discolored; many wore flip-flops and carried tattered bags. A 7-year-old with a deep scar across his back stared at me. A shell had landed while his family slept and his sister was killed, he told me in a thin voice.

One child after another spoke of injuries and deaths caused by shelling; of lingering wounds; of forced conscription by the Tigers; of poor widowed mothers; and of family members missing after being taken into state custody.

Since Sri Lanka’s independence from Britain in 1948, members of the island’s Tamil minority have insisted that they face linguistic, educational and employment discrimination from the Sinhalese majority, which controls the government.

The Tigers — a sophisticated, well-financed guerilla group that formed in 1976 and pioneered the technique of suicide bombing — sought to redress their grievances by violent means, with the goal of establishing an independent Tamil state. They routinely recruited child soldiers, killed Tamil dissenters and massacred Sinhalese and Muslims. In 1991, the group went so far as to assassinate the Indian prime minister, Rajiv Gandhi, for having sent Indian troops to Sri Lanka in 1987 to enforce a peace accord. The Tigers held out against the Sri Lankan military until they were decisively defeated in May 2009.

Some journalists called Sri Lanka’s final battle with the Tigers a “war without witnesses.” Aid workers were asked to withdraw from the conflict zone months before the government defeated the Tigers. Only handpicked reporters, mostly from state media, were allowed to embed with troops. Those journalists knew what they must not write, for fear of losing access. The others relied on organized tours that were meticulously choreographed by the army — producing sanitized war coverage with the gory bits tucked away. As a result, there was no outside scrutiny of the controversial war.

But that did not mean there were no witnesses. As the army attacked, hundreds of thousands of civilians were trapped in between. They were the Tigers’ “human shield,” and a source for forced conscripts, including children. They were also witnesses.

More than 950 people testified before the commission and nearly 5,000 submitted written statements. Survivors spoke of displacement, incessant shelling and morbid fear. The commission’s report depicts a country where the rule of law is crumbling and where abductions, enforced or involuntary disappearances, protracted detention without charge and attacks on journalists continue. It proposes depoliticizing the police, disarming illegal armed groups and allowing a more independent media.

While the commission makes sensible recommendations and exposes grave atrocities committed by the Tigers against ordinary people, it also demonstrates that government troops shelled no-fire zones in order to neutralize rebel attacks from within.

The report is a valuable document, but regarding the war’s terrible final weeks, it is largely an apologia for the army. The commission admits only that “civilian casualties had in fact occurred in the course of cross-fire,” and blames the Tigers for most of them. The commission asserts that the government was confronted with an unprecedented situation — a massive human shield — that left it no other choice but to respond as it did.

However, on three separate occasions the government declared no-fire zones, giving the illusion of safety to hundreds of thousands of terrified civilians who fled into them. The rebels also went in, set up their heavy weapons among innocent men, women and children and proceeded to attack the military with gusto. The army retaliated and large numbers of civilians were killed.

Sri Lankans no longer need to pretend that the army didn’t shell zones where civilians were encouraged to gather, or subscribe to the fantasy that no innocents died when shells landed on or near hospitals.

If Sri Lanka wants true reconciliation, simply blaming the Tigers is not enough. The government, and the country, must take responsibility for the dead, mend the lives of the survivors — whatever their ethnicity — and stop the vicious cycle of ethnic strife by arriving at a political solution that meets, if not all aspirations, most of them. Until then, the end of the war will not bring true peace.

Two weeks ago peasants in Wukan, a fishing village in the prosperous southern Chinese province of Guangdong, took over their village, throwing out local leaders. Because of long unanswered grievances, they risked their lives, barricading roads into the village and facing down the police. Their central concern was the sale of collectively owned village land to property developers, which has impoverished most residents while enriching their leaders.

As the Wukan protests evolved into an international media event, a provincial party official, under pressure from Beijing, stepped in and swiftly negotiated a truce acceptable to the villagers. This week Prime Minister Wen Jiabao asserted that “China can no longer sacrifice farmers’ land rights for the sake of reducing the cost of urbanization and industrialization.”

Once again China’s leadership has succeeded in the complex task of managing social unrest. The eye of the world is now shifting away.

This is a serious mistake. Like China’s leadership, the world should continue to play close attention to Wukan and to the tens of thousands of incidents of rural unrest that occur each year in China, the vast majority resulting from land grabs. Why? Because what happens to China’s peasants is crucial to our collective future.

China’s rural population is at the bottom of the global commodity chains of both Chinese and transnational corporations. Unhindered by regulations, these companies utilize China’s land and rural labor for the environmentally and socially unsustainable production of goods consumed the world over. While consumers everywhere benefit from inexpensive products and corporate profits, the real costs are borne by China’s most vulnerable.

The Wukan incident reveals the shaky foundation of China’s rise to economic super power: it is built upon an unresolved land struggle with hundreds of millions of lives in the balance. Anything that negatively alters the quality of life of China’s rural majority has the potential to impact the already fragile global economy, sending ripples across the world.

As I have seen first-hand during nearly 30 years of research in rural China, land grabs have been central to China’s economic “miracle.” Local governments take over land for real estate development, industrial expansion, roads, dams and power plants.

Having government and party connections to get a hold of prime real estate in urban cores and suburban fringes has enabled massive fortunes in property development. Eight out of China’s top 10 billionaires made their fortunes through land grabs.

Similar land grabs have occurred in China’s rural hinterlands where there is little oversight by the central government. Of the 1.1 million hectares taken away in 2011, according to China’s State Council, 700,000 were transferred illegally. The result is the complete loss of land for approximately 75 million peasants, who join the over 200 million rural residents migrating around China daily in search of work.

Land loss leaves many rural families — still the majority of China’s population — without access to enough land to produce their food. Wukan’s villagers not only saw 400 hectares of shared land sold to a property developer, but their common fishing grounds were sold off as well to a large seafood company. This severely reduced many villagers’ basic subsistence. Their rising anger and desperation is seen in other rural areas nationwide.

Land grabs are part and parcel of growing social inequality in China. Despite increasingly strong populist rhetoric from the government, along with significant rural investment to counter rising discontent, China today rivals the most unequal countries in the world. The 400 million Chinese at the bottom face continual threats to their livelihoods through land loss.

Beijing’s success in quelling daily unrest around the country, mainly through the use of local officials as scapegoats, fails to address the fundamental problem: a development path built on an eroding foundation of unjust land grabs, environmental destruction, social polarization and the resulting vulnerability of the country’s poorest and most marginal people. Until these structural issues are addressed, the Wukan incident will only be a harbinger of things to come.

This is a holiday season the people of Kazakhstan will not soon forget. On Dec. 16 security forces in the western city of Zhanaozen killed and wounded hundreds of unarmed demonstrators, mostly striking oil workers, occupying a public square. Officials claim only 15 people died but reports from local people — impossible to confirm — say the death toll was higher. A startling video on YouTube — blacked out in Kazakhstan — shows police firing on fleeing civilians.

The incident, coming after a long period of relative stability, presents Western policy makers with difficult choices. People in Kazakhstan who seek greater freedom look to Washington and European capitals for support, but the West has soft-pedaled human rights concerns because of other important interests — from energy production to the elimination of nuclear and biological weapons to the transit of vital NATO supplies to Afghanistan.

The violence in Zhanaozen evokes bitter memories of an earlier crackdown. In December 1986 in Alma-Ata, then the republic’s capital, thousands of people marched to protest a decision by the Soviet president, Mikhail Gorbachev, to replace a longtime ethnic Kazakh leader with an outsider. Security forces killed as many as 200 people — the first of several deadly clashes in the Soviet Union that undermined Gorbachev’s leadership and Soviet rule.

Since independence in 1991, Kazakhstan has been ruled by Nursultan Nazarbayev, and under his leadership the country has achieved a great deal. Slavs and other minorities have remained generally at peace in a land controlled by ethnic Kazakhs. The country has attracted tens of billions of dollars in energy investment. In 2010, according to the World Bank, per capita G.D.P. in current U.S. dollars stood at $9,136, slightly lower than Russia’s $10,440 but three times as high as in Ukraine, which, with average per capita G.D.P. of $3,007, aspires to join the European Union. In a pinnacle moment a year ago, Nazarbayev acted as the host of a summit of the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe.

Since then there have been signs of rising instability and Islamic extremism. Police have clashed with armed groups in the more religiously conservative western part of the country. A new law restricts religious organizations and bans workplace prayer, even though the supreme mufti of Kazakhstan warns that this will spur extremism. A group known as Soldiers of the Caliphate claimed responsibility for a suicide bombing.

Over two decades amid growing wealth and corruption, Kazakhstan’s soft autocracy has hardened. After aborting a controversial referendum, Nazarbayev won a fourth term in a rigged election in April. His party holds all seats in both houses of Parliament. Elections set for January should be postponed and genuine political parties allowed to participate.

As I have seen in recent trips, much of Kazakhstan has been starved of public investment while Nazarbayev has turned the new capital, Astana, into a glitzy, mini-Dubai. The privileged few are astoundingly rich. Economic inequality, authoritarian rule and a highly personalized style of government have bred wide resentment.

In May, after oil workers went on strike in Zhanaozen, their lawyer was imprisoned. In August, the teenage daughter of a trade union activist was found dead of a fractured skull. Strikers swelled from hundreds to thousands; hundreds were fired.

Nazarbayev has responded inadequately. He’s replaced a few officials, promised strikers new jobs and blamed the state oil company for the unrest. The new regional governor is his former interior minister, suggesting unease about the loyalty of his security forces. Earlier, the labor minister derided striker demands as “baseless and illegal,” but a chastened Nazarbayev now says they are “in general justified.”

Many people in Kazakhstan live more comfortably than they ever imagined, but unease and discontent have been heightened. Fraudulent elections could add to the troublesome brew, undermining a government that has enjoyed substantial power and support.

Western governments, while carefully balancing their interests, should lose no time in deepening engagement with promising leaders, including younger ones in government. Expanded professional and educational exchanges and democracy training could help prepare the way for a new and more open generation of leaders. Western defense establishments might step up training on military roles in a democracy. A new accord with the European Union ought to expand programs on the rule of law, and the O.S.C.E. should increase its stabilizing field presence.

The West has an enormous stake in Kazakhstan, it can do more to help its people shape a democratic future.

As if undermining the World Trade Organization’s Doha Round of global free-trade talks was not bad enough (the last ministerial meeting in Geneva produced barely a squeak), the United States has compounded its folly by actively promoting the Trans-Pacific Partnership (TPP). President Barack Obama announced this with nine Asian countries during his recent trip to the region.

The TPP is being sold in the US to a compliant media and unsuspecting public as evidence of American leadership on trade. But the opposite is true, and it is important that those who care about the global trading system know what is happening. One hopes that this knowledge will trigger what I call the “Dracula effect”: expose that which would prefer to remain hidden to sunlight and it will shrivel up and die.

The TPP is a testament to the ability of US industrial lobbies, Congress, and presidents to obfuscate public policy. It is widely understood today that free-trade agreements (FTAs), whether bilateral or plurilateral (among more than two countries but fewer than all) are built on discrimination. That is why economists typically call them preferential-trade agreements (PTAs). And that is why the US government’s public-relations machine calls what is in fact a discriminatory plurilateral FTA, a “partnership” invoking a false aura of cooperation and cosmopolitanism.

Countries are, in principle, free to join the TPP. Japan and Canada have said they plan to do so. But a closer look reveals that China is not a part of this agenda. The TPP is also a political response to China’s new aggressiveness, built therefore in a spirit of confrontation and containment, not of cooperation.

The US has been establishing a template for its PTAs that includes several items unrelated to trade. So it is no surprise that the TPP template includes numerous agendas unrelated to trade, such as labor standards and restraints on the use of capital-account controls, many of which preclude China’s accession.

From the outset, the TPP’s supposed openness has been wholly misleading. Towards this end, the TPP was negotiated with the weaker countries like Vietnam, Singapore, and New Zealand, which were easily bamboozled into accepting such conditions. Only then were bigger countries like Japan offered membership on a “take it or leave it” basis.

The PR machine then went into overdrive by calling the inclusion of these extraneous conditions as making the TPP a “high-quality” trade agreement for the twenty-first century, when in fact it was a rip-off by several domestic lobbies.

American regionalism closer to home shows the US now trying to promote the Free Trade Agreement of the Americas (FTAA). But its preferred template was to expand the North America Free Trade Agreement (Canada, Mexico, and the US) to the Andean countries and include huge doses of non-trade-related issues, which they swallowed. This was not acceptable to Brazil, the leading force behind the FTAA, which focuses exclusively on trade issues. Brazil’s former President Luiz Lula Inácio da Silva, one of the world’s great trade-union leaders, rejected the inclusion of labor standards in trade treaties and institutions.

The result of US efforts in South America, therefore, has been to fragment the region into two blocs, and the same is likely to happen in Asia. Ever since the US realized that it had chosen the wrong region to be regional with, it has been trying to win a seat at the Asian table. The US finally got it with the TPP, simply because China had become aggressive in asserting its territorial claims in the South China Sea, the South China Sea, and vis-à-vis India and Japan.

Many Asian countries joined the TPP to “keep the US in the region” in the face of Chinese heavy-handedness. They embraced the US in the same way that East Europeans rushed to join NATO and the European Union in the face of the threat, real or imagined, posed by post-Soviet Russia.

America’s design for Asian trade is inspired by the goal of containing China, and the TPP template effectively excludes it, owing to the non-trade-related conditions imposed by US lobbies. The only way that a Chinese merger with the TPP could gain credibility would be to make all non-trade-related provisions optional. Of course, the US lobbies would have none of it.

Not long after South Korean economist Oh Kil-nam was enticed into entering North Korea with his family in 1985, he realized he was in trouble. The opportunities they expected were illusory; instead, Oh and his family found themselves trapped. About a year later, Oh was ordered to abduct two Koreans studying in Germany, much as he had been lured to the North. Although she knew it would endanger their family, Oh’s wife, Shin Sook-ja, implored him to disobey the orders and try to escape. They must not lead other innocents to a fate as horrible as theirs, she argued.

When Oh was sent abroad, he did not follow orders but sought political asylum. North Korean authorities reacted by confining Shin and their two daughters, just 9 and 11, to the Yoduk concentration camp in 1987. Twenty-four years later, Oh lives in South Korea. Retired now, he clings to the faint hope that he can be reunited with his family.

It is too soon after Kim Jong Il’s death to tell how North Korea may change, and we in the South are very sensitive to any escalation of military tension between our countries. But some things remain clear: Shin and her daughters are among the hundreds of thousands of people in the North with stories too painful to imagine.

More than 100,000 South Korean civilians are estimated to have been abducted by North Korea during and after the Korean War, while about 150,000 North Koreans are thought to be confined in camps for political prisoners. Every day, defectors risk their lives to escape persecution and hunger.

But their cries of anguish seem lost amid fears of possible instability over another hereditary power transition in the North after Kim’s death.

Still, rather than concentrating on national self-interests, it is essential that the international community come together to guide North Korea in the right direction. While South Korea, the United States, Japan, Russia and China all agree that North Korea must take the path for reform and denuclearization, differences exist regarding how to deal with the issue of human rights.

What South Korea wants is for North Korea to embark on the path of freedom, human rights and democracy. These changes include efforts to repatriate prisoners of war and abductees held in the North and the breakup of its political camps. We also hope for freedom of religion in the North and that separated families from the two Koreas will be allowed to meet. Ultimately, North Korea must become a member of the free world.

In recent years the United States and others have made efforts to confront North Korea’s human rights abuses. In 2004, Congress unanimously passed the North Korean Human Rights Act. As a Korean lawmaker at that time, I was ashamed. I felt that U.S. lawmakers had done something we Koreans ought to have done. So in 2005, I submitted for the first time the North Korean Human Rights Act to the National Assembly. Although six years have gone by, it has yet to be passed.

But the United States continues to stand up for Korean rights. On Dec. 13, the House unanimously approved another resolution, introduced by Rep. Charles Rangel (D-N.Y.) a Korean War veteran and longtime friend of South Korea, calling on the North to send back Korean soldiers and civilians held captive since the 1950-53 war.

With possibility for change in North Korea greater than ever before, it is time to combine the efforts of those in South Korea, the United States and elsewhere, as well as those working in nongovernmental organizations to save the oppressed and impoverished in the North.

Some might think that calls for improving human rights could escalate tensions and ultimately threaten peace in the region. But history tells us that without human rights, genuine peace and prosperity cannot be achieved.

The winds of democratization that have blown through the Middle East and Africa this year prove that the world is losing tolerance for dictators who oppress human rights. North Korea, too, must change, so that its people can finally savor the freedom, democracy and economic prosperity that have been denied them for so many decades.

When I was imprisoned for 2 ¹ / ₂ years in the 1980s for taking part in the democracy and labor movement during South Korea’s dark military dictatorship, the support of human rights groups at home and abroad was my biggest source of hope and consolation. When you are trapped in a world of utter darkness, nothing is more powerful than the thought of someone thinking of you and praying for you.

We must shine the light of hope on the darkness suppressing North Korea. If we do not, what will we tell those in the North when they ask after we are united, “What did you do for us when we were in despair?”

Kim Jong-il, el líder de Corea del Norte, murió en un tren en su país a las ocho y media de la mañana del viernes 17 de diciembre. Dos días más tarde, las autoridades de Corea del Sur no conocían el hecho y el Departamento de Estado se limitaba a reconocer la existencia de algunos informes de prensa haciéndose eco de su muerte. Que los servicios de información no hubieran captado ninguna señal de lo ocurrido atestigua el carácter opaco del régimen, pero también un fallo de inteligencia de Corea del Sur y de EE UU. A pesar de que aviones y satélites americanos vigilan el país día y noche y las antenas más sensibles cubren la frontera entre el norte y el sur de Corea, sabemos muy poco de ese país donde la información sensible se restringe a un pequeño grupo de dirigentes obsesionados con el secreto.

El cambio de líder tiene lugar cuando menos se deseaba que ocurriera. Es sabido que los líderes chinos esperaban que Kim Jong -il sobreviviera el tiempo necesario para consolidar el proceso de sucesión de su hijo Kim Jong-un entre las diferentes facciones que competirán por el poder. La rapidez con que todos los atributos simbólicos del poder se le han transferido a Kim Jong-un -su posición protocolaria en los actos fúnebres, la presidencia de la Comisión Militar e incluso la máxima jerarquía en el partido- no harán menos difícil el proceso de transición de un joven de menos de 30 años en una sociedad donde los veteranos jefes militares detentan una parte importante del mismo.

La situación económica continúa siendo gravísima. Dos ejemplos: el precio del arroz se ha multiplicado por tres mientras que el consumo de electricidad se ha dividido por la misma cantidad.

Mis recuerdos personales de hace ahora casi 10 años son de un país pobre y deprimido. Pyongyang estaba desierta y oscura, e iba iluminándose al paso de la caravana que nos conducía desde las casas de protocolo al teatro de la ópera, para volver a la oscuridad después. A su entrada en el teatro, Kim Jong-il era recibido con el mismo fervor con el que hoy le lloran.

El viaje se produjo en abril de 2002, en momentos de un cierto optimismo. Europa se había sumado, dentro del programa KEDO (Korean Peninsula Development Organization), a un acuerdo iniciado por las dos Coreas y EE UU con el objetivo de que Corea del Norte congelara y posteriormente desmantelara su programa nuclear a cambio de la construcción de dos reactores nucleares de agua ligera para la producción de energía eléctrica y de 500.000 toneladas métricas de petróleo anuales hasta la entrada en funcionamiento del primer reactor. A su vez, la UE iniciaba un extenso proyecto de ayuda humanitaria. Las conversaciones con Kim Jong-il y sus colaboradores parecían prometedoras.

Desgraciadamente, el acuerdo duró poco. En 2003, Corea del Norte abandonó el Tratado de No Proliferación.

A partir de ese momento se desvaneció cualquier optimismo, hasta que se reiniciaron los contactos en un formato complejo a seis bandas (China, Rusia, EE UU, Japón y las dos Coreas) que continuaron con altos y bajos hasta finales de 2007. Después de los incidentes marítimos de 2009 y 2010 prácticamente no ha habido contactos entre las dos Coreas.

Llegados a este punto y con un precipitado cambio de liderazgo, puede ocurrir cualquier incidente inesperado. Para limitar el riesgo es esencial mantener con China las relaciones más transparentes posibles. Pekín, que es quien tiene los contactos más directos con Pyongyang, puede catalizar mejor que nadie la recuperación de las negociaciones a seis bandas.

China reconoce que Corea del Norte no puede subsistir en su forma actual. Le gustaría ver a sus líderes transformar su economía sin cambios políticos sustanciales. ¿Es ello posible? ¿Lo es a un ritmo que dé a los demás actores regionales confianza en que la evolución será previsible?

Para China, en cierta manera, cualquier problema es relativamente pequeño en relación con su historia, y los contempla desde una óptica de política interior cuanto más próximos están a su frontera. Para nosotros y muy particularmente para Estados Unidos, todo problema debe tener solución en un periodo de tiempo finito. Entre China y EE UU hay diferencias fundamentales en el “código político-genético”. América segmenta el problema y trata de encontrar soluciones a cada parte. China considera los problemas políticos como un proceso extendido, sin prisas, que puede incluso no tener solución.

Mas allá de las conversaciones a seis bandas, es necesario crear un marco de donde pueda emerger un diálogo cooperativo entre EE UU y China. En el caso de Corea -como recuerda Christopher Hill, uno de los negociadores norteamericanos más eficaces en estos temas-, Estados Unidos debería expresar claramente que ninguna solución en la península de Corea significará una pérdida estratégica para China. El paralelo 38 se estableció como el límite para la presencia de fuerzas americanas y no se debe olvidar la importancia que aquella guerra tuvo para China.

Este es un camino. Puede haber otros. Lo estamos viendo recientemente en Myanmar, pero sin armas nucleares.

There is perhaps no country on earth surrounded by more difficult neighbors than Afghanistan. When the U.S. wants to ship matériel to its troops there, it can’t go through Tajikistan because the roads are so poor; it can’t go through Turkmenistan because that country maintains an isolationist neutrality; and, for obvious reasons, it can’t go through Iran.

Until Nov. 26, the U.S. military shipped about a third of its supplies through Pakistan, but after an American attack killed 24 Pakistani soldiers, the country cut off NATO’s access to the border, and there is little indication that officials in Islamabad intend to change their minds. The U.S. military ships another third of its cargo to Afghanistan by air, but that costs so much more than shipping by land that to expand those operations would be prohibitively expensive. That leaves Uzbekistan.

Anticipating problems with Pakistan, Pentagon planners began putting together the Northern Distribution Network, a series of transit routes from Europe through the former Soviet Union. Nearly all of those routes converge at Termez, Uzbekistan, whose sleepy, dusty streets belie its strategic location: 75 percent of the network’s traffic passes through the town and across the Soviet-built “Friendship Bridge” into Afghanistan. Now, the U.S. will have to ship even more military cargo through Uzbekistan, one of Washington’s least likeable allies.

Ruled since the Soviet era by President Islam Karimov, it is the fifth-most corrupt country in the world, according to Transparency International, and in Freedom House’s rankings of political and civil freedoms it is tied for last.

“The challenge for the United States is to strike a balance between its short-term, war-fighting needs and long-term interests in promoting a stable, prosperous and democratic Central Asia,” John Kerry wrote in the introduction to a report released on Dec. 19 by the Senate Committee on Foreign Relations entitled “Central Asia and the Transition in Afghanistan.”

This is a difficult needle to thread, but Washington has so far largely succeeded. The U.S. has kept the supply lines running while compromising little on its principles. The yearly State Department human rights reports have remained consistently critical, even as military cooperation has blossomed. Human rights advocates in Uzbekistan — a small, beleaguered community — still say that, for the most part, they feel like the U.S. Embassy is an ally.

But this balance is difficult to maintain, and lately there have been signs that America may be wavering. The defense budget authorization act passed on Dec. 15 by Congress removed restrictions on military aid to Uzbekistan that had been in place since 2004 because of the country’s odious human rights record. Asked about that decision, Secretary of State Hillary Clinton said there had been “progress” on human rights and political freedoms, which, while not a realistic assessment of the situation, technically speaking is true.

The Kerry report makes the same claim and as evidence reaches back nearly four years to note only one such bit of progress: that the government began allowing the Red Cross to visit prisoners in 2008. But the overall picture is grim, and, if anything, getting worse.

When Clinton visited Tashkent in October, a State Department official told the reporters accompanying her that “President Karimov commented that he wants to make progress on liberalization and democratization, and he said that he wants to leave a legacy of that for his — both his kids and his grandchildren.” Pressed by an incredulous reporter, the official added, “Yeah. I do believe him.”

This new, more accommodating rhetoric is embarrassing. If Clinton were to say: “No, we don’t agree with how Uzbekistan’s government runs its country. But we need their help in Afghanistan, and so we’re temporarily putting our differences aside,” would anyone object? That is obviously the bargain being struck, and one that few in the U.S. or Uzbekistan would take issue with.

Wikileaked cables reporting on U.S. negotiations with Karimov over the past few years reveal a president who doesn’t seem to care much about how the U.S. sees his government, but just doesn’t want what he calls American “pressure and diktats” to reform.

Though the U.S. has consistently hectored Uzbekistan on human rights over the past two decades, the country has become more oppressive. The U.S.-Uzbekistan military relationship has had its ups and downs — the U.S. operated an air base there from 2001 to 2005 — and through it all, Karimov hasn’t changed.

There is no question that as long as the U.S. is in Afghanistan, it will need to engage with Uzbekistan. But how it chooses to engage can make all the difference. “Achieving our security goals and promoting good governance and human rights are not mutually exclusive,” the Kerry report says. “In fact, security and political engagement are complementary strategies that are more likely to be effective when pursued together.”

The report doesn’t back up that assertion, and in the case of Uzbekistan it plainly isn’t true. No sort of political engagement will work, and the irony is that the more U.S. officials believe it, the more likely they are to compromise their principles. In this case, saying nothing may be the best way for the U.S. to stay true to what it believes.

En un momento en que el ascenso económico, diplomático y militar de China proyecta la sombra de un desequilibrio de poder sobre Asia, la visita recién concluida del Primer Ministro japonés, Yoshihiko Noda, a la India ha consolidado una relación que está intensificándose rápidamente entre dos aliados naturales. Ahora la tarea del Japón y de la India es la de añadir un contenido estratégico concreto a sus vínculos.

El equilibrio de poder que está surgiendo en Asia irá determinado principalmente por los acontecimientos en el Asia oriental y el océano Índico. Así, pues, el Japón y la India tienen un importante papel que desempeñar en la preservación de la estabilidad y la contribución a la salvaguarda de rutas marinas de importancia decisiva en la región indopacífica, en sentido más amplio, caracterizada no sólo por la confluencia de los océanos Índico y Pacífico, sino también por su importancia para el comercio mundial y los suministros energéticos.

Las regiones de Asia con auge económico son costeras, por lo que democracias marítimas como el Japón y la India deben cooperar para crear un orden estable, liberal y basado en las normas en Asia. Como dijo el Primer Ministro indio, Manmohan Singh, en la reunión de la cumbre del Asia oriental celebrada el mes pasado en Balí, el continuo ascenso de Asia no está automáticamente asegurado y “depend[e] de la evolución de una estructura cooperativa”.

El Japón y la India, como países con pocos recursos energéticos y dependientes en gran medida de las importaciones de petróleo del golfo Pérsico que son, están profundamente preocupados por los empeños mercantilistas encaminados a asegurarse el dominio de los suministros energéticos y las rutas de transporte para éstos. Así, pues, el mantenimiento de un ámbito marítimo pacífico y legal, incluida una libertad de navegación sin trabas, es decisiva para su seguridad y bienestar económicos. Ésa es la razón por la que han acordado iniciar maniobras aéreas y navales conjuntas a partir de 2012; una de las señales del paso de una actitud encaminada a subrayar los valores compartidos a otra encaminada a proteger intereses compartidos.

De hecho, pese a su complicada política interna y a sus endémicos escándalos, la India y el Japón tienen la relación bilateral que se intensifica más rápidamente en el Asia actual. Desde que anunciaron una “asociación estratégica y global” en 2006, su compromiso político y económico se ha intensificado notablemente. Una congruencia en aumento de intereses estratégicos propició su Declaración Conjunta sobre Seguridad y Cooperación de 2008, un importante hito en la creación de un orden asiático estable, en el que una constelación de Estados vinculados por intereses comunes ha llegado a ser decisiva para garantizar el equilibrio en un momento en el que los cambios actuales en el poder incrementan las amenazas a la seguridad.

La declaración conjunta siguió el modelo del acuerdo de cooperación en materia de defensa de 2007 con Australia, el otro país con el que el Japón, aliado militar de los Estados Unidos, tiene un acuerdo de cooperación en materia de seguridad. La declaración sobre seguridad de la India y el Japón engendró, a su vez, un acuerdo similar entre la India y Australia en 2009.

El pasado mes de agosto, entró en vigor un acuerdo de libre comercio entre el Japón y la India, antes conocido como acuerdo de asociación económica general, y, en respuesta a la utilización punitiva por parte de China de su monopolio en la producción procedente de tierras raras para interrumpir esa clase de exportaciones al Japón durante el otoño de 2010, los dos países han acordado cooperar en materia de desarrollo de tierras raras, que revisten importancia decisiva para una gran diversidad de tecnologías energéticas ecológicas y las aplicaciones militares.

En la actualidad, el nivel y la frecuencia del compromiso bilateral oficial son extraordinarios. La visita de Noda a Nueva Delhi formó parte de un compromiso por parte de los dos países de celebrar una cumbre anual, a la que asistirán sus primeros ministros.

Más importante aún es que el Japón y la India mantengan ahora varios diálogos ministeriales anuales: un diálogo estratégico entre sus ministros de Asuntos Exteriores, otro sobre seguridad entre sus ministros de Defensa, otro normativo entre el ministro de Comercio e Industria de la India y el ministro de Economía, Comercio e Industria del Japón y otros más sobre asuntos económicos y energéticos.

Y, para acabar de completar todo ello, el Japón, la India y los EE.UU. iniciaron un diálogo estratégico trilateral en Washington el 19 de diciembre. La incorporación de los EE.UU. ha de reforzar la cooperación entre la India y el Japón. Como dijo recientemente el ministro de Asuntos Exteriores del Japón, Koichiro Gemba, “el Japón y los Estados Unidos están intensificando una relación estratégica con la India” y el diálogo trilateral es “un ejemplo concreto de colaboración” entre las tres democracias principales de Asia y el Pacífico. Es probable que dicha cooperación pase a ser cuadrilátera con la inclusión de Australia.

El Japón y la India deben fortalecer su aún incipiente cooperación estratégica haciendo suyas dos ideas que requieren un sutil cambio en el pensamiento y la política japoneses. Una es la de crear la interoperabilidad entre sus formidables fuerzas navales, que, en cooperación con otras armadas amigas, puede reforzar la paz y la estabilidad en la región indopacífica. Como dijo el Primer Ministro japonés, Shinzo Abe, en un discurso reciente en Nueva Delhi, su fin debe ser el de que “temprano antes que tarde, la armada del Japón y la de la India estén perfectamente interconectadas”. Actualmente, el Japón sólo tiene interoperabilidad naval con las fuerzas de los EE.UU.

La segunda idea es la de desarrollar en común sistemas de defensa. La India y el Japón cooperan en materia de defensa mediante misiles con Israel y los EE.UU., respectivamente. No hay razón para que no lo hagan en materia de defensa con misiles y otras tecnologías para la seguridad mutua. Dicha cooperación debe ser completa y no limitarse al diálogo estratégico, la cooperación marítima y las maniobras navales ocasionales.

En la Constitución del Japón, impuesta por los EE.UU., no hay una prohibición de exportaciones de armas, sino sólo una decisión gubernamental adoptada ya hace mucho y que, en cualquier caso, se ha relajado. De hecho, la decisión original se refería a armas, no a tecnologías.

Las asociaciones económicas más estables del mundo, incluida la comunidad atlántica y la asociación entre el Japón y los EE.UU., descansan sobre la colaboración en materia de seguridad. Los vínculos económicos que carecen del respaldo de las asociaciones estratégicas suelen ser menos estables e incluso inestables, como resulta patente en las relaciones económicas que la India y el Japón tienen con China. Mediante una estrecha colaboración estratégica, el Japón y la India deben encabezar el empeño de crear libertad, prosperidad y estabilidad en la región indopacífica.

For a European these days, thinking about the future is disturbing. America is militarily overstretched, politically polarized, and financially indebted. The European Union seems on the brink of collapse, and many non-Europeans view the old continent as a retired power that can still impress the world with its good manners, but not with nerve or ambition.

Global opinion surveys over the last three years consistently indicate that many are turning their backs on the West and – with hope, fear, or both – see China as moving to center stage. As the old joke goes, optimists are learning to speak Chinese; pessimists are learning to use a Kalashnikov.

While a small army of experts argues that China’s rise to power should not be assumed, and that its economic, political, and demographic foundations are fragile, the conventional wisdom is that China’s power is growing. Many wonder what a global Pax Sinica might look like: How would China’s global influence manifest itself? How would Chinese hegemony differ from the American variety?

Generally, questions of ideology, economics, history, and military power dominate today’s China debate. But, when comparing today’s American world with a possible Chinese world of tomorrow, the most striking contrast consists in how Americans and Chinese experience the world beyond their borders.

America is a nation of immigrants, but it is also a nation of people who never emigrate.

Notably, Americans living outside the United States are not called emigrants, but “expats.” America gave the world the notion of the melting pot – an alchemical cooking device wherein diverse ethnic and religious groups voluntarily mix together, producing a new, American identity. And while critics may argue that the melting pot is a national myth, it has tenaciously informed the America’s collective imagination.

Since the first Europeans settled there in the seventeenth century, people from around the world have been drawn to the American dream of a better future; America’s allure is partly its ability to transform others into Americans. As one Russian, now an Oxford University don, put it, “You can become an American, but you can never become an Englishman.” It is, therefore, not surprising that America’s global agenda is transformative; it is a rule-maker.

The Chinese, on the other hand, have not tried to change the world, but rather to adjust to it. China’s relationships with other countries are channeled through its diaspora, and the Chinese perceive the world via their experience as immigrants.

Today, more Chinese live outside China than French people live in France, and these overseas Chinese account for the largest number of investors in China. In fact, only 20 years ago, Chinese living abroad produced approximately as much wealth as China’s entire internal population. First the Chinese diaspora succeeded, then China itself.

Chinatowns – often insular communities located in large cities around the world – are the Chinese diaspora’s core. As the political scientist Lucien Pye once observed, “the Chinese see such an absolute difference between themselves and others that they unconsciously find it natural to refer to those in whose homeland they are living as “foreigners.”

While the American melting pot transforms others, Chinatowns teach their inhabitants to adjust – to profit from their hosts’ rules and business while remaining separate. While Americans carry their flag high, Chinese work hard to be invisible. Chinese communities worldwide have managed to become influential in their new homelands without being threatening; to be closed and non-transparent without provoking anger; to be a bridge to China without appearing to be a fifth column.

As China is about adaptation, not transformation, it is unlikely to change the world dramatically should it ever assume the global driver’s seat. But this does not mean that China won’t exploit that world for its own purposes.

America, at least in theory, prefers that other countries share its values and act like Americans. China can only fear a world where everybody acts like the Chinese. So, in a future dominated by China, the Chinese will not set the rules; rather, they will seek to extract the greatest possible benefit from the rules that already exist.

En mai dernier, nous avions publié avec l’équipe d’Info Birmanie un livre destiné à faire mieux connaître la pensée et l’action d’Aung San Suu Kyi, figure de référence du mouvement démocratique birman et lauréate du prix Nobel de la paix. La “Dame de Rangoun”, évoquant ses objectifs, disait ne pas viser seulement un changement de gouvernement mais aussi “un changement dans la société birmane, une évolution des concepts politiques, des idées politiques [car] je crains qu’il fasse désormais partie de [notre]culture politique de penser qu’un changement significatif ne peut advenir que dans la violence”. Son approche non-violente a parfois été confondue avec de la passivité. La possibilité qu’elle atteigne ses objectifs n’a pourtant jamais semblé si proche.

Les évolutions à l’oeuvre en Birmanie ont été largement commentées : reprise du dialogue avec la “Dame”, suspension d’un projet de barrage controversé, adoption de lois autorisant les syndicats, le droit de grève ou les manifestations, mise en place d’une commission nationale des droits de l’homme, relâchement de la censure. Certes, l’amnistie attendue d’un grand nombre de prisonniers politiques s’est soldée le 12 octobre dernier par un constat décevant : si quelques activistes de premier plan ont retrouvé la liberté, la plupart demeurent encore derrière les barreaux.

Pour Aung San Suu Kyi, qui réclame leur libération, la volonté de réforme du régime semble cependant réelle. Mais la dirigeante de la Ligue Nationale pour la Démocratie (LND) demeure prudente : elle rappelle que nous n’en sommes encore qu’ “au début du début” des changements espérés. Elle estime en outre qu’il faut demeurer attentif à la possibilité d’une réaction violente des éléments conservateurs du régime : “pour l’instant, je ne pense pas que le danger soit grand. Mais bien évidemment, les choses peuvent évoluer très vite en politique.” Assiste-t-on en Birmanie à une transition qui s’opèrerait “par le haut” et à laquelle la mobilisation continue des forces démocratiques serait étrangère? Rien n’est moins sûr. En décidant de fonctionner comme un parti autorisé, la LND a mis un régime soucieux d’améliorer son image au pied du mur : la réprimer ou priver de nouveau sa dirigeante de liberté anéantirait les efforts déployés par la dictature pour convaincre qu’une démocratisation du régime est à l’oeuvre depuis les élections contestables de novembre 2010. La légalisation de la LND, annoncée le 13 décembre par les médias officiels birmans, est à l’évidence un effet de sa persévérance. Aung San Suu Kyi et son parti envisagent désormais de se présenter aux élections législatives partielles à venir. La “Dame” sait que rentrer dans le jeu politique “normal” la rendra plus vulnérable : “Certaines personnes s’inquiètent du fait que participer pourrait faire du tort à ma dignité. Franchement, si vous faites de la politique, vous ne mettez pas en cause votre dignité”. L’un de ses objectifs est d’entrer au Parlement pour pouvoir y discuter la peu démocratique constitution de 2008, qui assure à l’armée un contrôle certain de la chose politique. Un sujet sensible.

Elle sait aussi qu’il ne saurait y avoir de stabilité en Birmanie si les revendications des minorités nationales (qui souhaitent un Etat fédéral et démocratique) ne sont pas entendues. Elle regrette que les partis ethniques soient toujours exclus du dialogue. Certes, la signature d’un accord de cessez-le-feu avec l’Armée de l’Etat Shan Sud et l’ordre donné par le président Thein Sein de ne plus combattre l’Armée de l’indépendance kachin sont choses encourageantes. Mais une paix durable ne pourra être obtenue que si les différentes parties conviennent d’un accord politique de fond. Les minorités l’attendent d’ailleurs sur ce sujet, un responsable karen confiant qu’“en ce moment, Suu Kyi discute avec le gouvernement tandis que les civils kachin fuient [toujours] les soldats birmans et se cachent dans les camps de réfugiés. C’est pourquoi ceux-ci pensent qu’elle ne les soutient pas.”

Aung San Suu Kyi sait que le temps de la politique est un temps long. Sa patience ne doit pas être confondue avec une forme de négligence ou d’indifférence envers des réalités humaines qu’elle sait dramatiques. Loin de regretter d’avoir perdu la figure morale au profit de la femme politique, ses soutiens internationaux devront admettre qu’il ne lui sera pas toujours possible de faire avancer des dossiers pourtant urgents aussi rapidement ou aussi complètement qu’il le faudrait. Il leur faut pourtant continuer de soutenir la “Dame” : pour que les évolutions en cours en Birmanie aillent le plus loin possible, il importe que le monde extérieur lui apporte son plein soutien.

Cecil B DeMille would have admired the funeral of Kim Jong-il. Its staging owes much to the Hollywood movies that the Dear Leader so loved.

It’s worth noting that the scenes coming out of North Korea are probably only the second time live images have been broadcast from the hermit nuclear state. The first time was in 2000, when Kim Jong-il met the South Korean president Kim Dae-jung as part of the stuttering reconciliation process.

State funerals are exercises in symbolism, and one thing was abundantly very clear in Pyongyang yesterday: Kim Jong-il’s youngest son, in long black coat but no hat, was leading the mourners. When Kim Il-sung, the founder of the world’s only hereditary Marxist “republic”, died in 1994, Kim Jong-il was not even present. Today’s message is crystal clear. The new succession is not in doubt: Kim Jong-un has the lead.

The funeral offered a good lesson in epic film-making. The grand long shots – cars with flashing lights, giant picture of the Dear Deceased carried like the Ark of the Covenant, jack-boot soldiers – were intercut with intimate shots. The grieving son, head bowed, eyes down, hand on the car carrying the coffin, and then weeping faces in the crowd.

Those who have followed Kim Jong-il’s career shouldn’t be surprised by the cinematic influences. When I co-produced a film about the North for the French TV station Arte, a North Korean diplomat gavehanded me and the film’s director, David Carr-Brown, a surprising little brown book: The Cinema and Directing, written by Kim Jong-il.

This 70-page course starts aggressively. “If cinematic art is to be developed to meet the requirements of the Juche age, it is necessary to bring about a fundamental change in film-making.” Kim Jong-il went on to claim that “capitalist and dogmatic ideas” still bogged down the “system and methods of direction”.

Kim Jong-il was a narcissistic monster. So perhaps it’s not surprising that he should have had some insight into how Hollywood works. In the socialist cinema the director is the “commander of the creative group”.

Kim Jong-il compares him to a platoon leader. Actually it’s not a bad comparison, though of course, many directors think they are more general than sergeant.

“Just as victory in battle depends on the leadership ability of the commander, so the fate of the film depends on the director’s art of guidance.” The book adds that while the director conceives the film, it cannot be finished without “the collective efforts and wisdom” of the whole crew.

The book contrasts the integrity of North Korean cinema – and at one time they were producing 60 feature films a year – with ghastly Tinseltown where it’s all smoke, mirrors and producer’s scissors. Supervision and control in Hollywood “is entirely in the hands of the tycoons of the film-making industry who have the money”, while the schmuck directors “are nothing but their agents”.

The book offers advice, basic but generally sound, on how to use music, direct actors and edit. I wasn’t surprised the camera work at the funeral was so well orchestrated. I’m sure it’s no comfort to his long-suffering people, but Kim Jong-il, a disaster for his country, knew a thing or two about directing – and it showed at his funeral.

Today, fears are growing that China and India are about to be the next victims of the ongoing global economic carnage. This would have enormous consequences. Asia’s developing and newly industrialized economies grew at an 8.5% average annual rate over 2010-11 – nearly triple the 3% growth elsewhere in the world. If China and India are next to fall, Asia would be at risk, and it would be hard to avoid a global recession.

In one important sense, these concerns are understandable: both economies depend heavily on the broader global climate. China is sensitive to downside risks to external demand – more relevant than ever since crisis-torn Europe and the United States collectively accounted for 38% of total exports in 2010. But India, with its large current-account deficit and external funding needs, is more exposed to tough conditions in global financial markets.

Yet fears of hard landings for both economies are overblown, especially regarding China. Yes, China is paying a price for aggressive economic stimulus undertaken in the depths of the subprime crisis. The banking system funded the bulk of the additional spending, and thus is exposed to any deterioration in credit quality that may have arisen from such efforts. There are also concerns about frothy property markets and mounting inflation.

While none of these problems should be minimized, they are unlikely to trigger a hard landing. Long fixated on stability, Chinese policymakers have been quick to take preemptive action.

That is particularly evident in Chinese officials’ successful campaign against inflation. Administrative measures in the agricultural sector, aimed at alleviating supply bottlenecks for pork, cooking oil, fresh vegetables, and fertilizer, have pushed food-price inflation lower. This is the main reason why the headline consumer inflation rate receded from 6.5% in July 2011 to 4.2% in November.

Meanwhile, the People’s Bank of China, which hiked benchmark one-year lending rates five times in the 12 months ending this October, to 6.5%, now has plenty of scope for monetary easing should economic conditions deteriorate. The same is true with mandatory reserves in the banking sector, where the government has already pruned 50 basis points off the record 21.5% required-reserve ratio. Relatively small fiscal deficits – only around 2% of GDP in 2010 – leave China with an added dimension of policy flexibility should circumstances dictate.

Nor has China been passive with respect to mounting speculative excesses in residential property. In April 2010, it implemented tough new regulations, raising down-payments from 20% to 30% for a first home, to 50% for a second residence, and to 100% for purchases of three or more units. This strategy appears to be working. In November, house prices declined in 49 of the 70 cities that China monitors monthly.

Moreover, it is a serious exaggeration to claim, as many do today, that the Chinese economy is one massive real-estate bubble. Yes, total fixed investment is approaching an unprecedented 50% of GDP, but residential and nonresidential real estate, combined, accounts for only 15-20% of that – no more than 10% of the overall economy. In terms of floor space, residential construction accounts for half of China’s real-estate investment. Identifying the share of residential real estate that goes to private developers in the dozen or so first-tier cities (which account for most of the Chinese property market’s fizz) suggests that less than 1% of GDP would be at risk in the event of a housing-market collapse – not exactly a recipe for a hard landing.

As for Chinese banks, the main problem appears to be exposure to ballooning local-government debt, which, according to the government, totaled $1.7 trillion (roughly 30% of GDP) at the end of 2010. Approximately half of this debt was on their books prior to the crisis.

Some of the new debt that resulted from the stimulus could well end up being impaired, but ongoing urbanization – around 15-20 million people per year move to cities – provides enormous support on the demand side for investment in infrastructure development and residential and commercial construction. That tempers the risks to credit quality and, along with relatively low loan-to-deposit ratios of around 65%, should cushion the Chinese banking system.

India is more problematic. As the only economy in Asia with a current-account deficit, its external funding problems can hardly be taken lightly. Like China, India’s economic-growth momentum is ebbing. But unlike China, the downshift is more pronounced – GDP growth fell through the 7% threshold in the third calendar-year quarter of 2011, and annual industrial output actually fell by 5.1% in October.

But the real problem is that, in contrast to China, Indian authorities have far less policy leeway. For starters, the rupee is in near free-fall. That means that the Reserve Bank of India – which has hiked its benchmark policy rate 13 times since the start of 2010 to deal with a still-serious inflation problem – can ill afford to ease monetary policy. Moreover, an outsize consolidated government budget deficit of around 9% of GDP limits India’s fiscal-policy discretion.

While China is in better shape than India, neither economy is likely to implode on its own. It would take another shock to trigger a hard landing in Asia.

One obvious possibility today would be a disruptive breakup of the European Monetary Union. In that case, both China and India, like most of the world’s economies, could find themselves in serious difficulty – with an outright contraction of Chinese exports, as in late 2008 and early 2009, and heightened external funding pressures for India.

While I remain a euro-skeptic, I believe that the political will to advance European integration will prevail. Consequently, I attach a low probability to the currency union’s disintegration. Barring such a worst-case outcome for Europe, the odds of a hard landing in either India or China should remain low.

Seduced by the political economy of false prosperity, the West has squandered its might. Driven by strategy and stability, Asia has built on its newfound strength. But now it must reinvent itself. Japanese-like stagnation in the developed world is challenging externally dependent Asia to shift its focus to internal demand. Downside pressures currently squeezing China and India underscore that challenge. Asia’s defining moment could be hand.

On December 17, North Korea announced that its supreme “Dear Leader,” Kim Jong-il, had died in a train carrying him on one of the many inspection tours that he had taken since suffering a stroke in 2008 – evidently part of the regime’s effort to eliminate concerns about his health. The Dear Leader’s death triggered a hereditary transfer of power, with the world’s attention focused not only on Kim Jong-il’s son and chosen successor, Kim Jong-un, but also on who will actually turn out to be the country’s true leader.

Although Kim Jong-il received his reign from his own father, North Korea’s founder, Kim Il-sung, history suggests that a clean transfer from father to son is the exception rather than the rule. In the thirteenth century, Minamoto Sanetomo became the third Shogun of Japan of the Kamakura Period, thus placing him at the top of samurai society at the age of 12. Actual power, however, was wielded by Hojo Masako, the first Shogun’s daughter-in-law, and other members of the Hojo clan, including her father, Hojo Tokimasa. Sanetomo was simply too young and inexperienced to lead the samurai.

For the samurai, combat experience and age were decisive legitimating factors. Professional samurai would be disgruntled if given orders by a young person with no actual combat experience. It was this value system that created an opening for the Hojo clan.

Chinese history tells us something similar. The regent of the Guangxu Emperor, who became the eleventh emperor of the Qing Dynasty at the age of three, was the Empress Dowager Cixi. Until he died in 1908, the emperor was Cixi’s puppet.

Both of these examples of government by regency may shed light on the succession struggle now underway in Pyongyang. At 28 (or 29, as Koreans count age), Kim Jong-un is a pudgy young man with no combat experience whatsoever. So there are substantial doubts as to whether the aging commanders of North Korea’s army, many of whom fought in the Korean War six decades ago, can swear loyalty to a callow, paper general.

This helps to explain why North Korean propaganda covered up the true cause of Kim Jong-il’s death – cancer, not a heart attack. Indeed, he had become so ill recently that he could not make decisions by himself near the end, so his only full-blood relative, his sister Kim Kyong-hui, made decisions on his behalf. In other words, even before Kim Jong-il’s death, a dual structure of supreme power had begun to take hold in Pyongyang.

For example, Jang Sung-taek, the director of the Administration Department of the Workers’ Party of Korea and Kim Kyong-hui’s husband, has gained much attention since Kim Jong-il’s death. On the list of 232 funeral committee members, Kim Jong-un was listed first, Kyong-hui 14th, and Jang Sung-taek 19th.

In September 2010, Kyong-hui was made a general in the Korean People’s Army, alongside Kim Jong-un. She is also a member of the Political Bureau of the Workers’ Party of Korea. Her husband received the position of Vice Chairman of the National Defense Commission, and also remains a candidate for Political Bureau membership.

Kim Kyong-hui is the 65-year-old daughter of Kim Il-sung and Kim Jong-suk. Her mother died when she was four. She was subsequently raised by various nannies, and grew to have a stern personality, owing to her complex relations with her stepmother and half-siblings. She frequently caused trouble for her brother, Kim Jong-il, who apparently once let slip that, “Nobody can stop my sister if she acts up. Not even I can do anything about it.”

Even if Kim Jong-il’s successor is outwardly portrayed as being Kim Jong-un, the actual power is likely to be transferred to Kim Kyong-hui, who is known for being jealous and having a strong love of winning. Indeed, to revert to the Japanese and Chinese precedents, it should be recalled that Sanetomo was later assassinated and Hojo took power, ending the effective control of the Kamakura Shogunate, and that the Xinhai Revolution brought about the end of the Qing Dynasty three years after the Empress Dowager’s death.

Of course, twenty-first century North Korea is not Japan of the Kamakura Period or China during the Qing Dynasty, but, while history never repeats itself exactly, such comparisons can be instructive. Indeed, although the Kims have reduced North Korea’s economy to a practically medieval state of backwardness, Internet access and mobile phones are becoming more widespread. A million mobile phones are already being used in the country, and it is now possible to evade the regime’s draconian information controls and censorship by exchanging information near the borders. Reliable information is conveyed into North Korea by the use of balloons to spread leaflets.

The Japanese and Chinese precedents will become increasingly relevant if these trends continue. In that case, a North Korean revolution might not be far off, particularly if relations between the country’s aged generals and the Kim dynasty begin to fray.

It is oddly poetic that North Korean dictator Kim Jong Il’s death fell in the days leading up to Christmas, one of the most family-centered times of the year. While the abuses under Kim and his father’s regime have been mainly directed at their own people, the far-reaching consequences have touched many more, even my own family in the U.S.

Speculations abound about what Kim’s death portends for international relations. Only a few voices, however, are heard of the millions who have suffered most directly from the dictatorships of the Dear and Eternal Leaders. It is no secret that North Korea routinely violates human rights. Modern-day concentration camps are reminiscent of those of prior genocides. Its nuclear arms program keeps the U.S. and other leading countries on their toes. But these are not the only items on its rap sheet.

Since the Korean War, millions of Koreans have been separated from family members. The vast majority never hear from their loved ones again.

Kim’s death took Koreans to memories nearly 60 years back, to the signing of the armistice that currently keeps North and South Korea at war. This means the countries are divided until further notice, separated by the strip of land known as the Demilitarized Zone. Parents and children, brothers and sisters, husbands and wives — entire families have been irreparably fragmented ever since.

My grandfather, now deceased, was one of the victims. He was not a casualty of the fighting or the mass famines in North Korea that killed up to 2 million people. Rather, he was the victim of a forced family separation when he lost his older brother after the Korean War. His brother had been a respected doctor in the Korean army prior to the war, when Korea was occupied by Japan, and was stationed in China.

After liberation, he was forced to stay at his post until the beginning of the 1950s, when the Korean War broke out. North Korea’s greatest ally was the People’s Republic of China, along with the former Soviet Union. My grandfather and his family received a single letter from him around this time. They did not hear from again.

For more than half his life, my grandfather never knew what fate had befallen his older brother. Torture, starvation, execution — all were and remain possibilities to those under the control of the North, including its allies during the Korean War.

Today, approximately 20,000 families have been reunited in meetings jointly orchestrated by the North and South Korean governments. It is hard to think of another event that simultaneously contains such long-awaited jubilation followed by immense grief, for these brief reunions end with the families being separated once again. They take place only during times of relative tolerance between the two nations.

Currently, there are roughly 80,000 South Koreans registered with the government to be potentially reunited with their North Korean family members. The number of broken families, however, is grossly undercounted. An estimated 40,000 people are believed to have already died or given up hope. Another 4,000 on the registered list die yearly. The unreported numbers from North Korea are obviously not figured in.

Such a reunion was never realized by my grandfather and his brother. In the 1990s, after 40 years of suppressed hope, he finally learned the truth through word-of-mouth connections in the U.S. His brother had passed away some time after the armistice was signed in 1953. As for precisely how, where or when, he was never able to find out. True closure thus evaded my grandfather.

However, he was still more fortunate than most separated Koreans, who will likely never know the fates of their lost relatives. Kim Jong Il’s death delays the opportunities for further family meetings, as North Korea is in national mourning until Dec. 29. Before his death, another set of reunions was expected around Jan. 23, the day of the Korean New Year. The mourning period, however, pushes back any other agenda, making the possibility of the Jan. 23 reunions highly unlikely.

The fact that the death of a globally infamous dictator has any meaning to families outside his country is strange. But the consequences of North Korea’s actions are widespread and long-term, as countless people, not just in the Koreas but also in the U.S., are descendants of the forced family separations.

It is important to note that little will change for those still waiting to be reunited. The same goes for the millions now under the rule of Kim’s son, Kim Jong Un. Even my grandmother, who left North Korea before the division, dismissively said, “Why is there such a fuss about the death of one evil man?” But let there be a positive light to come of this event.

For those of us fortunate enough to spend the upcoming Christmas and New Year holidays with our families, Kim Jong Il’s passing can serve as an unexpected reminder of one of the most important aspects of our lives. We remember that in a world where people are still forcibly separated from their loved ones, being in the company of our family members should never be taken for granted.

I am sure my grandfather and his brother would agree.

Con la muerte de Kim Jong Il acaba de desaparecer el jefe de Estado del último país totalitario existente en el planeta. ¿Logrará sobrevivir su régimen?

Existen todavía muchas dictaduras sobre la Tierra; Corea del Norte es el último ejemplo de un régimen totalitario en el cual no existe espacio público ni privado que goce de libertad. No hay posibilidad alguna de expresión individual o colectiva, existe una ignorancia total de lo que sucede en el interior o en el exterior del país. Económicamente, el régimen está a un paso de la quiebra; en numerosas ocasiones la población ha sufrido hambrunas y padece penurias de todo tipo. La única cosa que es abundante y está equitativamente repartida es el miedo. Solamente los más cercanos al régimen y las fuerzas de seguridad tienen la garantía de un nivel de consumo más o menos satisfactorio, menor según los criterios nacionales. Unicamente los dirigentes no tienen problemas.

Estado nuclear oficioso, con un ejército de 1.200.000 hombres para una población total de 24 millones de habitantes, Corea del Norte hace pesar una amenaza estratégica vital sobre la vecina Corea del Sur y sobre Japón y, teniendo en cuenta la importancia de estos dos países en el conjunto de Asia, la situación en la península coreana es potencialmente una de las más peligrosas del mundo. Una guerra afectaría al mundo entero. Y Corea del Norte no podría más que perderla, pero antes estaría en condiciones de provocar unos daños considerables. Seúl se encuentra a tan sólo unas decenas de kilómetros de la frontera. Tokio está también al alcance de los misiles norcoreanos. Sin embargo, los dirigentes norcoreanos no tienen interés en desatar una guerra puesto que lo que les interesa es permanecer en el poder.

¿Cabe esperar un cambio con la desaparición de Kim Jong Il? Su hijo Kim Jong Un, a quien se venía presentando desde hace tiempo como su potencial sucesor, ha sido designado para sustituirlo. Todavía joven y relativamente nuevo en el paisaje político, su legitimidad interna es débil. El poder es ejercido, sin ninguna duda, de forma colectiva por un puñado de generales.

El problema del régimen coreano es que le protege su debilidad. Nadie desea la reunificación. Los surcoreanos no están interesados, visto el precio que tuvo la reunificación alemana y teniendo en cuenta que entonces había cuatro alemanes occidentales por cada alemán oriental, mientras que no hay más que dos surcoreanos por cada coreano del Norte. Por otro lado, visto que la diferencia entre las dos Coreas es mucho mayor que la que existía entre las dos Alemanias, Seúl no desea hacerse cargo del peso norcoreano. Ello supondría la ruina de Corea del Sur.

Japón prefiere una Corea dividida a una Corea cuya reunificación se haría sobre la base de un sentimiento antijaponés. China, aunque desmarcada de la mala imagen que transmite Corea del Norte, no desea ver cómo un régimen cercano a Estados Unidos se instala en su frontera. Para Washington, la división y la inestabilidad son las causas que justifican la presencia estratégica estadounidense en la península coreana.

Los dirigentes norcoreanos siempre han sabido combinar lo frío y lo caliente. Abrir su régimen les podría permitir beneficiarse de una ayuda que serviría para estabilizar la situación económica, satisfacer a la población y suponer un éxito para la dirección política del país. Pero afrontar el riesgo de la apertura es también afrontar el de ser arrastrado por un movimiento incontrolable. Hasta ahora la opción ha sido mantener un régimen completamente cerrado en sí mismo, asegurando un control total de una población privada de todo, sabiendo que los dirigentes viven en un confort relativo.

¿Podrá Corea del Norte mantenerse al abrigo de la ola de cambios y de la mayor fuerza de las opiniones públicas a la que hemos asistido desde Túnez hasta Moscú? Esta oleada de cambios debería conducir a los dirigentes norcoreanos a no tomar el riesgo de la apertura, por temor a verse arrastrados. Creen que la naturaleza totalitaria de su régimen les protege y que poner en marcha reformas supondría abrir la caja de Pandora y dirigirse hacia lo desconocido y hacia lo incontrolable, lo cual destestan.

¿Pero puede un régimen totalitario sobrevivir mucho tiempo en un mundo globalizado?