Asia

In a speech on the eve of the Olympics, George W. Bush prodded China on human rights.

Well, sort of. That's what's in the news, but in reality Bush was (to use one of his father's words) "prudent" in his comments about human rights in China. His speech was released 18 hours before he actually gave it (probably with even more back-channel advance notice to the Chinese); it was delivered not in Beijing but in Bangkok; and it was followed by a string of events that spotlighted abuses in Burma rather than China. The Chinese responded with boilerplate about how the United States shouldn't interfere in China's internal affairs. Mission accomplished. On to the U.S.-China Olympics basketball matchup!

Beijing imposed heavy security on the Olympic torch’s passage through Xinjiang Province.

It isn't only Tibetans who have risen up against Chinese rule, but also Turkic Muslim Uighurs in China's far western province of Xinjiang. The Chinese have reacted by arresting Uighur activists in the Islamic center of Kashgar, and accusing Uighurs of ties to international terrorism.The Uighurs, in return, demand an independent state: East Turkestan. Even as China prepares to showcase its growing strength and dynamism at this year's Olympics, the situation in Xinjiang, as much as the one in Tibet, demonstrates how it has yet to consolidate its border areas, with profound implications for China, the United States, and the world.

Burma's junta continues to obstruct aid and divert it from cyclone victims.

There's no excuse for the behavior of Burma's leaders, but history offers an explanation that goes beyond sheer autocratic barbarism. As friendly as the Burmese can be to Western tourists, they have reason to be suspicious about their neighbors and outside powers -- they have been sandwiched between empires in India and China; subjugated and exploited by Great Britain; devastated by Japan (and the Allies) during World War II; and vulnerable in the second half of the 20th century to meddling by Thailand, rogue Chinese nationalists, and other factions and interests. Hand in hand with that xenophobia goes a fierce pride: For much of their history they've been not just survivors, but builders of a Burmese empire that, at its zenith in the mid-11th century, controlled a large chunk of mainland Southeast Asia.

In Taiwan's presidential contest, Ma Ying-jeou of the Kuomintang defeated Frank Hsieh of the Democratic Progressive Party by an overwhelming margin.

The Kuomintang, perhaps the strangest, most resilient political organization in history, is back in yet another guise. Ma Ying-jeou is an affable, U.S.-educated, pro-market moderate. His most distinguishing feature might be his unwillingness to use scabrous rhetoric to denounce his opponents -- highly unusual in Taiwan's shall-we-say robust public discourse. MORE

Violent protests against Chinese rule erupted in Tibet, and the government locked down the city of Lhasa.

In some ways the Chinese government is patient, subtle, and sophisticated. Although it never faces a judgment at the ballot box, in domestic affairs it often acts as if it were "accountable," trying to address and fend off whatever is the latest source of popular concern. Inflation, economic inequalities, pollution, snow-borne travel disasters -- these and other problems can lead to shifts in policy that rival those in any country. And when it comes to police-state controls, the government usually pushes just far enough to get what it wants, without pushing too far and generating too much backlash. But none of this is true when it comes to a part of Chinese policy now most in the world's eyes: how it will respond in Tibet. MORE

The New York Philharmonic played a concert in Pyongyang, as the largest American group to visit North Korea since the war.

Politically, the concert flopped. Kim Jong Il, who invited the New York players last August, failed to appear, and Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice dismissed any temptation to get "carried away with what listening to Dvorak is going to do in North Korea." In the midst of a two-month stalemate over delayed nuclear disarmament, the Philharmonic’s performance could provide little more than a soothing distraction.  

The only unambiguous winner was the orchestra itself. Splashed across the front pages of national newspapers, the Philharmonic reclaimed a cultural authority for classical music belied by its graying, shrinking audience. As American orchestras struggle to stay afloat here, North Korean artists enjoy generous government subsidies in return for their service as professional glorifiers of Kim Jong Il and the Juche Idea. Fortunately, the popularity of classical music outside America is growing, particularly in China. But for home-grown fans and performers, the question is: will America preserve its Western cultural patrimony, with the goodwill it buys, or abandon it to the East?

The new president of the Republic of Korea, Lee Myung-bak, is best known as an environmentalist and a pro-U.S. hawk. But he is also a champion of the English language.

As a late bloomer, South Korea is keen to be at the cutting edge of modernity. So as Koreans have joined the rich, bourgeois, post-industrial world, they've acquired all of the familiar accoutrements: a large and growing welfare state, rising social liberalism, universal broadband, Ph.D.'s galore. But must this taste for what is new and what is best extend to the jettisoning of that which is most distinctive about Korean culture? Do Korean children really need English-only instruction in math, science, and Korean history, a proposal Lee floated several months back? Well, yes, actually. Lee, being a coward, abandoned his plans at the last minute, fearing a nationalist backlash. But by embracing English, Korea could dramatically expand its cultural influence and become the first truly globalized society. How's that for cutting edge?