Wednesday, December 5, 2007

Rich nations 'ignore' power shift


Rich nations are failing to adjust to the rapid rise of emerging economies, a former World Bank boss has warned.

The developed world has not yet fully grasped that economic power is moving eastward and what the implications of that will be, said James Wolfensohn.

He predicted that China will grab the crown from the US as the world's richest country by 2040, with India close behind.

Yet, these countries were still treated with a "colonial" attitude, he said.

"The leadership in the developed world, and people who should know better, still have not adjusted to the fact that this is not just a modest change in global economic power and influence, but a tectonic shift," Mr Wolfensohn said.

"If you look at the developed world and how it is addressing this change, the steps that are being taken are relatively trivial."

'Tectonic shift'

Speaking at a gathering of high-profile financiers in Hong Kong to discuss developments in Asia's financial markets, he noted that there were already signs that power had begun to seep away from today's economic leaders of the US and Europe.

One sign was the fact that African politicians and businessmen now engage directly with China and India, bypassing Western nations, he added.

With Asian countries poised to account for the bulk of global growth by 2050, compared with 10% in 1950, Mr Wolfensohn called on the Western world to focus more on understanding the region's culture and learning to speak its languages.

He also underlined a growing need to appreciate social responsibility in these developing countries, where the break-neck speed of economic growth has largely been driven by an exports boom that relies on an underpaid labour force.

James Wolfensohn was president of the World Bank for 10 years until the beginning of 2005.

Story from BBC NEWS:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/go/pr/fr/-/2/hi/business/7006172.stm

Published: 2007/09/21 10:07:28 GMT

© BBC MMVII

Monday, December 3, 2007

China’s cyber army is preparing to march on America, says Pentagon

Chinese military hackers have prepared a detailed plan to disable America's aircraft battle carrier fleet with a devastating cyber attack, according to a Pentagon report obtained by The Times.

The blueprint for such an assault, drawn up by two hackers working for the People's Liberation Army (PLA), is part of an aggressive push by Beijing to achieve "electronic dominance" over each of its global rivals by 2050, particularly the US, Britain, Russia and South Korea.

China's ambitions extend to crippling an enemy's financial, military and communications capabilities early in a conflict, according to military documents and generals' speeches that are being analysed by US intelligence officials. Describing what is in effect a new arms race, a Pentagon assessment states that China's military regards offensive computer operations as "critical to seize the initiative" in the first stage of a war.

The plan to cripple the US aircraft carrier battle groups was authored by two PLA air force officials, Sun Yiming and Yang Liping. It also emerged this week that the Chinese military hacked into the US Defence Secretary's computer system in June; have regularly penetrated computers in at least 10 Whitehall departments, including military files, and infiltrated German government systems this year.

Cyber attacks by China have become so frequent and aggressive that President Bush, without referring directly to Beijing, said this week that "a lot of our systems are vulnerable to attack". He indicated that he would raise the subject with Hu Jintao, the Chinese President, when they met in Sydney at the Apec summit. Mr Hu denied that China was responsible for the attack on Robert Gates, the US Defence Secretary.

Larry M. Wortzel, the author of the US Army War College report, said: "The thing that should give us pause is that in many Chinese military manuals they identify the US as the country they are most likely to go to war with. They are moving very rapidly to master this new form of warfare." The two PLA hackers produced a "virtual guidebook for electronic warfare and jamming" after studying dozens of US and Nato manuals on military tactics, according to the document.

The Pentagon logged more than 79,000 attempted intrusions in 2005. About 1,300 were successful, including the penetration of computers linked to the Army's 101st and 82nd Airborne Divisions and the 4th Infantry Division. In August and September of that year Chinese hackers penetrated US State Department computers in several parts of the world. Hundreds of computers had to be replaced or taken offline for months. Chinese hackers also disrupted the US Naval War College's network in November, forcing the college to shut down its computer systems for several weeks. The Pentagon uses more than 5 million computers on 100,000 networks in 65 countries.

Jim Melnick, a recently retired Pentagon computer network analyst, told The Times that the Chinese military holds hacking competitions to identify and recruit talented members for its cyber army.

He described a competition held two years ago in Sichuan province, southwest China. The winner now uses a cyber nom de guerre, Wicked Rose. He went on to set up a hacking business that penetrated computers at a defence contractor for US aerospace. Mr Melnick said that the PLA probably outsourced its hacking efforts to such individuals. "These guys are very good," he said. "We don't know for sure that Wicked Rose and people like him work for the PLA. But it seems logical. And it also allows the Chinese leadership to have plausible deniability."

In February a massive cyber attack on Estonia by Russian hackers demonstrated how potentially catastrophic a preemptive strike could be on a developed nation. Pro-Russian hackers attacked numerous sites to protest against the controversial removal in Estonia of a Russian memorial to victims of the Second World War. The attacks brought down government websites, a major bank and telephone networks.

Linton Wells, the chief computer networks official at the Pentagon, said that the Estonia attacks "may well turn out to be a watershed in terms of widespread awareness of the vulnerability of modern society".

After the attacks, computer security experts from Nato, the EU, US and Israel arrived in the capital, Tallinn, to study its effects.

Sami Saydjari, who has been working on cyber defence systems for the Pentagon since the 1980s, told Congress in testimony on April 25 that a mass cyber attack could leave 70 per cent of the US without electrical power for six months.

He told The Times that all major nations – including China – were scrambling to defend against, and working out ways to cause, "maximum strategic damage" by taking out banking systems, power grids and communications networks. He said that there were at least a thousand attempted attacks every hour on American computers. "China is aggressive in this," he said.

Sunday, December 2, 2007

Skin ageing 'reversed' in mice


Scientists have reversed the effects of ageing on the skin of mice by blocking the action of a specific protein.

In two-year old mice, Californian researchers found that they could rejuvenate skin to look more youthful.

Further analysis published in the journal Genes and Development showed the skin had the same genetic profile as the skin of newborn mice.

The team said the research would most likely lead to treatments to improve healing in older human patients.

They stressed it was unlikely to be a potential "fountain of youth" but could help older people heal as quickly from injury as they did when they were younger.

The protein in question - NF-kappa-B - is thought to play a role in numerous aspects of ageing.


We found a pretty striking reversal to that of the young skin
Dr Howard Chang
Dr Chang interview

It acts as a regulator, causing a wide range of other genes to be more or less active.

Lead researcher, Dr Howard Chang, from the Stanford School of Medicine in California, said the findings supported the theory that ageing is the result of specific genetic changes rather than accumulated wear and tear.

And that it is possible to reverse those genetic changes later in life.

Regulation

Previous studies have identified several genes which play a part in the ageing process.

Dr Chang and colleagues spotted that the one thing the genes had in common was that they were regulated by NF-kappa-B, which can either make them more or less active.

By blocking the protein in older mice for two weeks, they found the skin was thicker and more cells appeared to be dividing, much like the skin of a younger mouse.

And the same genes were active as in the skin of newborn mice.

It is unclear whether the effects are long-lasting and the protein has also been implicated in cancer and regulation of the immune system.

"We found a pretty striking reversal to that of the young skin," Dr Chang said.

But he added any application in humans was likely to be on a short-term basis because of other effects of blocking the protein.

"You might get a longer lifespan but at the expense of something else," he said.

Nina Goad from the British Association of Dermatologists said: "Targeting of gene therapy to skin is still very difficult but this may provide some new avenues of research that will be of value to wound healing, following skin trauma or disfiguring skin cancer surgery.

"However, the researchers' caveats about the unforeseen consequences of manipulating genes that play a role in many cells are most important and add a strong element of caution."

Story from BBC NEWS:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/go/pr/fr/-/2/hi/health/7119552.stm

Published: 2007/11/30 00:18:02 GMT

© BBC MMVII

Why Apple Isn’t Japanese

Once a technology leader, Japan is now struggling to find its place in the digital age.

By Christian Caryl
NEWSWEEK
Updated: 2:06 PM ET Dec 1, 2007

Ever heard of DoCoMo? probably not, unless you happen to live in Japan. NTT DoCoMo is one of the world's biggest wireless phone companies. It operates in a ferociously competitive market, boasts about 50 million customers and has been known to produce cutting-edge technology. By all rights it ought to be a star performer in the increasingly global business of wireless communications. Yet DoCoMo's brand is still virtually unknown outside its home country.

This is one story that could have had a very different ending. At the turn of the century DoCoMo executives announced that they were setting out to conquer the world. Their company's star mobile Internet application, known as i-mode, was leading the pack in its home market, and DoCoMo planned to leverage that success into a bid to dictate wireless Internet standards around the world. The company went on a buying spree, trying to gain footholds by purchasing stakes in overseas companies—stakes that soon made for painful losses, and not much else, when the New Economy bubble popped soon thereafter.

The would-be worldbeater proved tone-deaf. DoCoMo managers were so enraptured with their state-of-the-art Internet service that they failed to notice that the long and intricate menus favored by Japanese consumers didn't score with foreign customers who were looking for more direct and intuitive interfaces. One reason for the failure to communicate: not a single person in the senior management of the company was non-Japanese. "With the right approach they could have become a Google," says Gerhard Fasol of the Tokyo consultancy Eurotechnology Japan. "They had the chance—but they blew it."

The fall of DoCoMo is only the most recent story in a long tale of Japanese innovation failures over the past two decades—a huge irony, given that Japan is a technological powerhouse. If you exult in brilliantly bizarre gadgetry, engineering wonkery and prodigious feats of craftsmanship, you'll feel right at home. It's also an extremely sophisticated business environment. The Japanese domestic market is big and nuanced; Japanese consumers are notoriously finicky and demanding.

On the face of things, it would all seem to add up to an entrepreneurial paradise, a playground of creativity and innovation. Japan spent $130 billion on research and development last year (more as a percentage of GDP than the United States or the EU, putting it in third place globally behind Sweden and Finland). It registers, far and away, more patents than any other country—even more than the United States, with more than twice the population.

So you'd think Japan would be confident about its technological future, but you'd be wrong. These days, big business, academia, think tanks, government and the media, as well as the average Japanese salaryman, are all brooding about the state of their economy in the digital era. The educational system is going down the tubes, it's said, generating math and science scores that increasingly lag behind other OECD countries. The government is gridlocked, stalling urgently needed economic reform. Managers are mired in old mentalities, while imaginative newcomers can't find the space or the capital to develop their ideas. It's a syndrome that's sometimes summed up in a single, angst-ridden question: how come we weren't the ones who invented the iPod?

It isn't just the iPod as a cool gadget that keeps the Japanese awake at nights. It's the iPod (and its relative the iPhone, soon to debut in Japan) as the supersuccessful symbol of a new way of doing business that causes the hand-wringing. While Japanese companies like DoCoMo, NEC, Sony and the like struggle with incremental improvement, competitors like Apple and Google are fusing innovative technology with great marketing, design and distribution to create entirely new product categories.

That's precisely what unnerves the Japanese. Bloggers and commentators routinely invoke Apple's success as a wake-up call for a country that once ruled the world's consumer-electronics market. Masamitsu Sakurai, the chairman of office-equipment maker Ricoh and head of one of Japan's leading industrial associations, shocked members of his group with a recent speech that held up the iPod as an example of an innovative Western product that Japan is finding hard to emulate because of its outmoded management.

There are many who would write off this sort of talk as heretical hyperbole. Japan, they argue, has a long track record as a country of innovation. "Lean manufacturing," low-mileage cars and Toyota's Prius hybrid must surely count for something. They also note that Japan is the land of Sony, a company that once represented, in the persons of its legendary cofounders, Masaru Ibuka and Akio Morita, the perfect fusion of engineering and marketing savvy.

But that was then. One reason Apple galls the Japanese so is that it has displaced Sony as the leading innovator in consumer electronics. Sony's last truly big thing was the Walkman, and many non-Japanese aren't even aware that the Walkman still exists—as a digital music player competing feebly against the iPod.

The lithe Sony of Morita's day has given way to a fat conglomerate, with interests in everything from finance to movies, that stumbles over its own feet. Because Sony has its own music division, its executives are jealous of their copyrights, so they set up a distribution system much less open than Apple's. That's one reason the Walkman holds a 23 percent market share in Japan, while iPod holds a 58 percent share, according to market researcher BCN.

The innovation crisis is in large part rooted in the country's peculiar corporate culture. Japan Inc. still remains dominated by big, vertically integrated dinosaurs with little maneuverability and a marked disinclination to creativity. Sony CEO Howard Stringer was brought in from America to shake things up in 2005 and has been struggling ever since to break down the barriers between company divisions.

The strict hierarchies of Japanese companies discourage people with radical new ideas. As James Mok of the Tokyo software consulting firm Apriso notes, "In the U.S. it's much easier to spin off the results of a particular project as a separate business." In Japan, a risk-averse culture makes it harder. Mok recently penned a study called "How the Japanese IT Industry Destroys Talent."

One notorious case in point involves Shuji Nakamura, the brilliant scientist who invented a revolutionary energy-saving blue-diode light source only to find himself mired in years of litigation as he struggled to extract royalty payments from the company that had profited from his invention. Nakamura ultimately abandoned Japan for California. Fasol recalls asking scientists at the University of Tokyo if they considered his departure a blow. " 'No, not at all,' they told me. 'It might be good to have someone more ordinary'." Sergey Brin and Larry Page, the youthful, productively offbeat cofounders of Google, wouldn't have stood a chance in Japan.

Nor would Google's remarkable culture of chaotic cross-pollination. In Japan, boundaries between groups (even inside companies) are clearly defined and hard to cross. Carl Kay, a U.S. consultant who has spent years analyzing Japanese service companies, recalls encountering several representatives of a leading Japanese computer maker at an Internet conference back in the United States in 1995. "We went to Starbucks together, and they said, 'We don't get it. Why would we want to use the Internet to talk to people outside of the company?' "

Insular Japanese companies are evidently ill poised to craft the sort of personalized, culturally specific content that is at the heart of much of technology and telecoms development today. But even straight-ahead research

is problematic. Stodgy government labs and big corporate research centers don't have great track records. Back in the 1980s the Japanese government spent hundreds of millions of dollars on a now forgotten project called the "Fifth Generation Computer." Americans, still reeling from Japan's stunning rise in cars and consumer electronics, watched with anxiety. In 1984, one U.S. computer magazine pronounced portentously: "The Japanese are planning the miracle product. It will come not from their mines, their wells, their fields, or even their seas. It comes instead from their brains."

Apparently, it's still there. Indeed, all too often Japan's technological prowess comes to a screeching halt when it comes to developing computers or the programs that run on them. "Japan was a technological powerhouse in the predigital world," says Keith Woolcock, a global tech strategist at Westhall Capital in London. "But they've never been a dominant computer maker. And the computer, linked with the Internet, is now the armature around which the whole world revolves." There are no Japanese operating systems; Toshiba, the laptop pioneer, is no longer a player in the PC market.

The reasons for this run deeper than a dysfunctional corporate culture. Among the problems: promotion based strictly on seniority (resulting in managers with little training in information technology), and a near-complete disconnect between universities and the corporate sector.

Takahiro Fujimoto, an economics professor at the University of Tokyo, poses another theory: that personal computers, software and hybrid gadgets like the iPod are "modular" products, made up of existing components that "people mix and match in an innovative way." The Japanese tend to excel at "integral" products like cars, with customized components designed from scratch. "When you need this kind of activity, it's likely that people will be working on the same floor for a long time as a team," says Fujimoto. "We are not good at dealing with genius individuals—we're good at teams." That consensus-oriented approach tends to preclude the sorts of disruptive innovation that companies like Google throw off practically at will.

One intriguing exception: Nintendo, the gaming company whose remarkable, easy-to-use Wii console has enabled it to break away from more-conventional rivals like Microsoft and Sony. But Nintendo is also the exception that proves the rule—it has cultivated an outsider image and pursued a distinctive strategy of tapping consumer groups traditionally uninterested in gaming. It's no accident that Nintendo, like several other more innovative companies, is based in Kyoto—far away from staid Tokyo.

The insularity issue, which underscores so much of the innovation problem, has reached a boiling point. One of Japan's leading business papers, The Nikkei, published a piece earlier this year describing how a senior executive at Sanyo Electric had an idea similar to the iPod back in 1997; when he tried to form an alliance with Apple to explore the technology, his company's own chairman refused. Today, the story noted, Sanyo is struggling to survive. The paper went on to point out that Japanese electronics companies depend to a large degree on sales to regulated industries and the government. The world's second biggest market, protected by the Japanese language and its own cloistered standards, offers many companies a profitable sanctuary. But, as the article concluded, Japanese companies must ultimately "face globalization."

Of course, Japan's obsessive, incremental approach to innovation is a perfectly good way to run some companies. Japanese steelmakers have a proprietary technology that makes their high-tech steel untouchable by Korean and Chinese competitors. They keep trying to close the gap, but the Japanese, given their extraordinary attention to detail, could very well manage to keep a few steps ahead—enough to maintain crucial comparative advantage.

Japan abounds with this sort of almost artisanal industrial company. Toyota's famous production philosophy of kaizen, or continuous improvement, is perhaps the ultimate example—a system where workers are constantly proposing small improvements that perpetually bring the manufacturing process closer to perfection. Over the short term, says Fujimoto, Japan shouldn't be afraid to maintain focus on those areas where it truly excels. But over the longer term, he warns, something will have to give. Growth industries, like technology, aren't about incremental improvement—they are about making big bets, and finding the next new new thing.

At this point, it is worth taking another look at the cautionary tale of DoCoMo. Today it is trapped in a domestic market with a diminishing population, watching as its nimbler rivals at home grab an ever-bigger piece of the shrinking mobile pie. Its only hope for decisive growth would have been to leapfrog into the global market. But it didn't happen, thanks mainly to the company's limited cultural horizons and unimaginative management. Just three years ago the value of DoCoMo's shares amounted to about 10 times that of Nokia's. Today Nokia (based in Finland, with a population of 5 million versus Japan's 127 million) has a market capitalization more than double that of DoCoMo's. That puts Nokia in the realm of other global giants like Apple, Google and Vodafone. And just look at who tops the list: China Mobile.

This drives home the point that the lesson for "them" (the Japanese) isn't necessarily that they should be more like "us" (the Americans). It's merely to warn that some serious adjustments might be in order. Over the next century, disruptive innovations won't be coming only from countries like the United States. They'll also be emerging from dynamic, hungry, rising economies that offer plenty of room for risk-taking, flights of fancy and cross-border synthesis. If the Japanese want to be a part of that club, they'll have to revamp not only how they think about technology, but how they think about themselves.

Monday, November 5, 2007

The reality of our science future


Dr Michio Kaku
Professor of theoretical physics, City University of New York


These scientists are at the forefront of the Age of Mastery, manipulating genes, inserting chips everywhere in our environment, and manipulating individual atoms as well
Most of the predictions of the future have been done by science fiction writers, Hollywood screen writers, and social critics, who either paint a blissful, gee-whiz future when obedient robot maids and butlers cater to our every whim, or a gruesome, dark dystopia when the machines take over and humanity is enslaved.

But what do the scientists themselves say? What are the views of the people who are actually doing the yeoman's work of inventing the future in their laboratory?

Their voices are rarely heard.

To get the most authentic, authoritative view of the future, I spent several months travelling with a BBC film crew to visit the labs of the most influential scientists in the world.

We began by flying down to North Carolina to drive the computerised "driverless car" that can actually travel on the highway without anyone behind the wheel.

The cloned farm

We flew to Tokyo and visited Asimo, one of the world's most advanced robots.

We travelled to Silicon Valley, and met the gurus of the computer revolution, who envision a future with three-dimensional TV, fantastic virtual worlds, and the internet in our glasses.

We visited the laboratory in Vienna where physicists are "teleporting" photons and atoms, like in science fiction. We travelled to Dallas, Texas, and met with ranchers who routinely create herds of cloned cattle.

We went to Boston University and saw the "smart mice" which are genetically engineered to have better memory. This could help in the care of patients with Alzheimer's.

But one highlight of the trip was a visit to Dr Anthony Atala's lab in Wake Forest University, North Carolina, where he is unleashing a revolution in medicine: growing entire organs of the body from your own cells.

In the future, we might very well have a "human body shop" that can replace ageing and diseased organs at will.

Pick and plug

Dr Atala first creates a plastic sponge-like mould of the organ. Then he inserts cells from our own body into the mould, which are then treated so they grow into the scaffolding.

After the organ is fully grown, the plastic scaffolding dissolves, leaving a perfect organ. Already, skin, cartilage, bone, blood vessels, wind pipes, heart valves, ears, and noses have been grown.

His lab made headlines last year when he grew the first human bladder, which was inserted into seven patients suffering from deformed bladders.

Dr Atala told me: "What we can foresee in the future is having a ready-made supply of human organs off the shelf that you can simply plug in, as needed."

Walking down his laboratory, one almost felt like visiting the laboratory of Dr Frankenstein. On the shelves were large jars containing living human skin, bone, and bladders.

In one jar, you could actually see a heart valve rhythmically opening and closing, just as if it were inside a living human heart.

The next target is the human liver and later the pancreas, heart, and kidney.

Control and responsibility

This has potentially profound implications for medicine. First, there are thousands of people desperately waiting in line for organ transplants that never come. Second, tens of millions of ageing baby boomers are hitting 60 and have to worry about diabetes, heart disease, and a host of illnesses related to ageing.

Growing human organs also means extending the human lifespan, since ageing organs can be replaced. But scientists also envision a time when the genes for the ageing process itself are finally unravelled.

We visited the scientists at MIT that have isolated many of the key genes, called sirtuins, involved in one form of ageing.

When interviewing these top scientists, several things became clear.

First, we are leaving the Age of Discovery in science. Instead of simply observing nature, these scientists are at the forefront of the Age of Mastery, manipulating genes, inserting chips everywhere in our environment, and manipulating individual atoms as well.

Second, eventually this will give us the power of a Greek god, i.e. the ability of create life in our image and animate the inanimate. But with this god-like power, the question remains: will we also have the wisdom of Solomon to control this power?

Perhaps the first step in attaining this wisdom is to learn about these exciting technologies, and then begin a vigorous democratic debate over their profound impact.

This is the goal of our BBC programme: to help stimulate this crucial debate.

Visions of the Future is broadcast on BBC Four at 2100 GMT on Monday, 5 November. The series is roughly based on Michio Kaku's earlier book, Visions: How Science Will Revolutionize the 21st Century, Oxford University Press, which contained interviews with 150 of the world's top scientists

Story from BBC NEWS:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/go/pr/fr/-/2/hi/science/nature/7078679.stm

Published: 2007/11/05 10:33:55 GMT

© BBC MMVII

Split By Decision

The rich are getting richer due to market forces—and to very human choices.
By Daniel Gross
NEWSWEEK
Updated: 1:48 PM ET Nov 3, 2007

Tsang Wing-On is perhaps the least threatening criminal to disturb the public peace in Hong Kong. In January, the 78-year-old entered a convenience store brandishing a fruit knife and told the clerk to call the police. When officers arrived, Tsang promptly surrendered and confessed. The welfare recipient, whose $460 monthly payments had been cut off, committed the "crime" because he believed a guilty plea and the ensuing jail sentence would allow him to obtain things he could no longer afford: regular meals and a warm place to sleep.

Tsang isn't alone. One in three elderly Hong Kongers lives in poverty. In the 10 years since Hong Kong's return to Chinese sovereignty, official statistics show that the number of "working poor"—defined as those who earn less than half the median income—has nearly doubled. This, in a city that boasts a $27,000 per capita GDP, a booming stock market, a covey of billionaires and an economy that has grown by about 8 percent annually over the past three years. "Look at all the old people collecting cardboard from garbage dumps for recycling," says John Sayer, head of Oxfam Hong Kong. "It's scandalous."

Tsang's plight underscores an increasingly worrisome global paradox. In the sixth year of synchronous growth, the global economic pie has expanded at an unprecedented rate. But the rich are eating most of the new slices. What's more, they're using their power to ensure the baker keeps delivering the pies to their gilt-edged doors before venturing into poorer neighborhoods. The stunning growth of China and India, as well as the still-steady growth of the G7 nations, isn't lifting all boats equally. Around the globe, from the most developed economies (like the United States' and Hong Kong's) to those rapidly catching up, income inequality is on the rise. "People are still transitioning out of poverty," says Thomas Piketty, a professor at the Paris School of Economics and coeditor of a new book on income inequality. The proportion of the world's population living on less than $2 a day fell from 67 percent in 1981 to 47 percent in 2004, according to the World Bank (though there is a record number of total poor in Asia—some 1.9 billion, or 60 percent of the population). There are also more wealthy people than ever before: the number of high-net-worth individuals worldwide (those with more than $1 million in assets, excluding their primary residence) rose 8.3 percent globally in 2006 to 9.5 million, according to Capgemini's World Wealth Report. Yet the middle class within nations is shrinking. "In spite of the massive reduction of inequality between countries, there has been a significant rise of within-country inequality," says Piketty.

The rich-poor divide is most striking in the places that have embraced turbocapitalism most wholeheartedly—namely, the United States and China. China's rich-poor divide now resembles Latin America's, according to an Asian Development Bank study released in August. The country's Gini coefficient—a ratio income for the poorest and richest sectors of society that ranges from zero to 1, with 1 representing the highest degree of inequality—soared from 0.41 in 1993 to 0.47 in 2004 and is now thought to be above 0.5 (in the United States, the coefficient is 0.46). But the growing wealth gap is not solely a function of the uncontrollable forces of globalization and technological change, which are most often blamed for it. Inequity, it turns out, is at least in part controllable, and policy decisions made by increasingly right-leaning, market-friendly governments have exacerbated it in recent years. The list of global billionaires is now filled with resource magnates who were effectively anointed by the state. Less progressive tax regimes, privatization policies that have funneled public resources into private hands and a lack of basic protections for labor have all helped tilt the balance in favor of the wealthy in emerging markets like China and Russia. It is no accident that while income gaps are growing all over the world, they are far less wide in India (due to lingering trade protections) and Germany (due to welfare benefits) than in the United States and China.

Orthodox economics holds that rising income inequality is an unavoidable and not entirely unwelcome byproduct of globalization and trade. But led by Japan, Asia's miracle economies took flight after World War II while narrowing their respective rich-poor divides. Meanwhile, the United States saw a compression of incomes amid relatively consistent growth —dubbed the Great Moderation—thanks to an entente between corporate America and labor, and government policies that provided safety nets for the working class.

Yet over the past decade, a variety of forces have changed the growth dynamic. The integration of China and India into the global trading system effectively added 2 billion workers to the world's labor force, thus placing downward pressure on the real wages paid workers. Intensifying competition, rapid adoption of new technologies and freer capital flows are "diminishing their bargaining power," says the Asian Development Bank's chief economist, Ifzal Ali. In this increasingly interconnected system, the returns accruing to those with skills and education have risen. "If you are well educated and well connected, the global economy gives you an ever-greater market for your insight," says Robert Reich, the former U.S. Labor secretary and author of "Supercapitalism." "The top 10 or 20 percent is pulling away from the rest because of education, job skills and connections."

Those who succeed on this new global stage are rewarded today like never before. Zhang Yin, who founded Nine Dragons Paper in 1995, has turned a small scrap-paper operation into a multibillion-dollar fortune, becoming the richest woman in China in less than a dozen years. Reliance Industries, the Indian petrochemical giant controlled by Mukesh Ambani, has a cash hoard of $28 billion. "I do think that the ability to operate at scale, whether it's an individual star or companies that have a global reach, is part of the inequality story," says Jeffrey Sachs, director of Columbia University's Earth Institute. The piling up of immense fortunes in still-poor countries shows that what Cornell economist Robert Frank has dubbed the "winner-take-all society" has gone global. "The kinds of forces that create winner-take-all markets have just gotten stronger very quickly in the last 30 years" due to globalization, he says.

But globalization isn't the only factor at work. The rising tide may be lifting the yachts disproportionately, and the wind may be filling their sails. But the big ships are also being propelled by powerful motors in the form of policymakers. When it comes to issues like free trade, the taxation of wealth, the protection of workers and the necessity of redistribution and social welfare, the center has moved to the right —in the United States and globally. "The contours of the debate have changed significantly, and they all revolve around working with markets rather than against the markets," said Dani Rodrik, professor of international political economy at Harvard and author of "One Economics, Many Recipes: Globalization, Institutions, and Economic Growth."

Rodrik and several other scholars suggest that changing laws, norms and institutions have played an important role in spurring inequality. "It's clear that institutions governing CEO pay and stock options matter a great deal," says Piketty. Consider that in the United States in 2005, the average compensation of the chief executive officer of an S&P 500 company was 411 times that of the average worker, up from 107 times in 1990.

Historically, progressive-tax and social-welfare policies have helped to mitigate such inequality, acting as shock absorbers. But in this decade, such policies have acted as an accelerant. "Rather than using the tools that we have to counteract the forces, moneyed interests really grabbed U.S. politics in the last 20 years and exacerbated these trends," says Sachs. "And so the tax structure became less fair, and the public-expenditure side became even less fair." In the past several years, the Bush administration and the Republican Congress slashed marginal income-tax rates sharply and cut taxes on capital gains, dividends and estates—all of which have massively benefited the already wealthy. Observers were surprised—but hardly shocked—to learn that a loophole allows hedge-fund and private-equity managers to pay a 15 percent capital-gains tax rate on the so-called carried interest, the fees they earn for managing other people's money.

Elsewhere, tax regimes are similarly friendly to concentrations of wealth. India has a progressive-tax system: 30 percent on incomes between about $6,250 to $25,000, with a 10 percent surcharge on amounts above $25,000. But only a small portion of the population files annual returns, and the country has few strong measures to punish tax evaders. On paper, China's income-tax rates are fairly high by Asian standards, and progressive. But the Chinese pay a staggering number of fees—charges tacked on to the price of goods and services—that are regressive. In addition, income-tax evasion in China occurs on a massive scale, while China's 20 percent capital-gains tax and dividends tax are only selectively enforced.

Wealth begets wealth, which underscores the role that the loosening of restrictions on international capital flows has played in increasing inequity. As the IMF recently noted, free trade (the most frequently cited cause of inequality) has, without question, decreased the rich-poor divide at a global level. Unrestricted global capital flows, on the other hand, have increased it, both by boosting the fortunes of individuals invested in global markets and by increasing the pace at which globalization and technological change (which often displaces lower-paid workers) can happen. "The rise in asset prices and asset returns is an economic force that pushes the world of increasing inequality," says Piketty. Bruce Holley, a partner in the New York office of the Boston Consulting Group, notes that the concentration of wealth is heightened in part because wealthy people are earning more from their jobs and more from their investments. "The higher you go up the asset scale, the faster the rate at which it grows," he said. "Wealthy people today have access to asset classes like hedge funds and private-equity funds that can generate higher returns."

At the national level, state-sanctioned privatizations have repeatedly pushed valuable state assets into the hands of well-connected individuals, allowing them to create huge fortunes overnight. "Because of the massively corrupt way that the natural-resource sector was privatized in Russia, some early huge gains were reaped by very small, politically powerful groups within the society," says Sachs. Russian oligarchs like Roman Abramovich have parlayed investments in formerly public resource companies into other assets, like the British football team Chelsea FC. In China, transfers of state land and other assets beginning in the 1980s and accelerating in the 1990s has resulted in a slew of politically connected insiders with large ownership stakes in key enterprises. One of the wealthiest men in the world is now Mexico's Carlos Slim, who accumulated his fortune thanks in large part to government protection of the monopoly status of Telmex, his telecommunications conglomerate. In South Africa, the post-apartheid Black Economic Empowerment efforts have funneled assets into the hands of a privileged few. Cyril Ramaphosa, the former African National Congress activist and committed socialist, has been reborn as a private-equity magnate.

As friendly as public policy has have been to the wealthy, public policy in many economies has been distinctly unfriendly to the poor. Aneel Karnani, an economist at the University of Michigan, notes the widespread "self-applause" in India over the booming private sector, with the increased penetration of consumer items like cell phones, but is critical of the nation's failure to provide basic health and a social infrastructure to the masses of citizens. "The representative image of contemporary India is not a cell phone, but rather defecating in public," he says. "In Mumbai, the business capital of India, about 50 percent of the people defecate in the open."

According to the World Wealth Report, the number of people with assets of at least $1 million in India rose by 20.5 percent last year, to 100,015. And the wealthy have every service at their disposal—from world-class hospitals to luxury retailing. But for the majority of the country's 1.1 billion people, most of them in the countryside, the new prosperity remains a mirage, and basic services are a dream.

A recent study conducted at New Delhi's state-run All India Institute of Medical Sciences found that 76 percent of women from mainly well-off backgrounds suffer from obesity. Meanwhile, a World Bank survey says that about 45 percent of Indian children under 5 are malnourished, and the government hasn't devoted sufficient public resources to begin making a dent. Mani Shankar Aiyar, India's minister of Youth Affairs & Sports, noted earlier this year at a meeting of industrialists, "India's system of governance is such that an allocation of 6.5 billion rupees [about $165 million] for village development is considered wasteful, but 70 billion rupees [$1.75 billion] for the Commonwealth Games is considered vital."

Around the world, capital is strong and labor is weak. Increasingly, developing economies—many of them formerly socialist countries allegedly run by workers' parties—resemble the America of the 1890s, with no powerful unions, few worker-safety laws, and little or no enforcement of minimum-wage laws. India's National Commission for Enterprises in the Unorganised Sector notes that 394.9 million workers, or 86 percent of India's working population, are not unionized. Nearly 80 percent of these workers live on less than 20 rupees (about 50 cents) a day. In China, the wage share of GDP fell from 53 to 41 percent from 1998 to 2005, according to a study by economists Louis Kuijs and He Jianwu. Officially, the typical worker earned $240 per month in 2006. Yet Standard Chartered bank concluded that official surveys overstate income by centering on a privileged minority that includes state enterprise workers, civil servants and professionals—segments that employ just a third of China's 330 million-strong urban work force, many of whom are migrants from the countryside who receive low pay and no benefits, and who enjoy little job security. Factoring in low-end workers, the bank estimates the average urban salary is $160 a month, and is rising at 9 to 10 percent a year, or about the annual economic growth rate. Meanwhile, the rich are making exponential gains on their vast fortunes. "The share of the gains of China's growth taken home by workers is falling; those who get rich by putting their own (or borrowed) capital to work are winning a bigger share of the pie," writes Stephen Green, a Shanghaibased economist with Standard Chartered.

Even in nations that have celebrated egalitarianism and social benefits, the safety nets are fraying.The number of Japanese applying for welfare payments has reached record highs. Today fully one third of Japan's workers are part-timers, most of them young, who usually work on temporary contracts that offer little in the way of health care or pension benefits. In western Germany, in the wake of the Hartz IV labor reforms, which slashed payments to the long-term unemployed, soup kitchens are reappearing.

Of course, the idea behind labor reform in historically inflexible economies like Japan or Germany or France is to bolster growth and create more and better jobs over the longer term. But in the short term, pinched benefits and poor wages, coupled with exhibitionist displays of wealth, inevitably bring back memories of earlier, less equitable periods in economic history. "We are in fact in the second Gilded Age," says economist and New York Timescolumnist Paul Krugman. "Pretax and pre-transfer income inequality in 2005 was exactly the same as it was in the 1920s. And a lot of behavior is the same: the giant private philanthropies, which is one of the giant mitigating factors, the exhibitionist display of wealth and, of course, the malefactors of great wealth all insisting that they're doing great things for us all."

The often grotesque proportions of income inequality are giving pause to even some of the most ardent believers in the international trading system. "The issue of the presumed justice of the rewards of capitalism has created an angst in all people involved in market economies," former Federal Reserve chairman Alan Greenspan told NEWSWEEK earlier this fall. "It's the reason why, despite this extraordinary set of gains, capitalism has not yet gotten closure." He expressed concern that people would turn against free markets if they find the markets can't meet their material needs.

At least some of them already are. In Latin America, voters in Venezuela, Ecuador, Bolivia, Chile, Brazil and Argentina have all elected populist ideologues in recent years. In the United States, opposition to free trade is growing—even among Republican voters. China experiences thousands of large demonstrations a year, the bulk of them over economic issues ranging from questionable land seizures and nonpayment of wages to egregious industrial pollution. In Nepal, which has the highest Gini coefficient in Asia, inequality has fueled a bloody Maoist insurrection that has raged since the mid-1990s. In India, radical, violent groups (broadly known as Naxalites) who adhere to the Maoist ideology of class struggle, routinely now blow up road links, mine the pathways that security forces take, attack police patrols and extort money from villagers. Last year Prime Minister Manmohan Singh declared the Naxalites "the biggest internal security threat to India since independence."

In Hong Kong, the glistening financial capital of a rising Asia, there have been (as of yet) no bloody coups, or even visible protests. Yet there is a rising unease, and a sense that things can't continue on as they are. Millions who once had upward mobility are stuck in neutral, struggling not just to do as well as their parents, but to make a decent living at all. Tsang Wing-on, and many like him, are still searching for succor. Even though he pleaded guilty in the hopes of becoming a ward of the state, the judge refused to send him to jail.

Sunday, November 4, 2007

The Chinese Split Personality


Economics: It Is A Country Divided Not Just Into Rich And Poor But Five Distinct Regions, Each With Its Own Challenges
NEWSWEEK
Updated: 4:17 PM ET Oct 29, 2007

For those who know China well, there is no greater sin than to suggest the country does not make sense as a single colossus. Wonder aloud if it would be better off being chopped into smaller and more manageable states, and your Chinese friends will respond with horrified looks. You will be told, most likely, that different standards apply to China. Size matters. Within the People's Republic, from the graybeards in the Politburo to the average Wang, it is an article of faith that only national unity can produce greatness and peace. History books used in Chinese middle schools recount, in excruciating detail, the national humiliation and mass sufferings endured by the Chinese people in the first half of the last century, during the country's most recent collapse. The notion that China ought to remain one and whole has in effect been hard-wired into the national psyche. To think otherwise would be un-Chinese.

Yet look around. Anyone who has seen more of the country lately than the Great Wall and the terra-cotta warriors would laugh at the idea that there is but one China. For the last two decades, divergent social and economic forces have silently but persistently pulled different parts of the country in different directions. In many ways Shanghai now has more in common with Seattle than with Xian. If an unemployed steelworker were to riot in the streets of Shenyang, he would do so for very different reasons from those of a disgruntled Uighur in Kashgar's ancient market.

The question isn't whether the People's Republic will or should fragment. The question is what to do now that it has. No one--neither the party apparatchiks in Beijing, nor the CEOs of Western multinationals, nor the generals in the Pentagon--can afford to see only the China that makes headlines, the so-called factory to the world. The white-hot growth rates enjoyed by the People's Republic over the last two decades have slowed. Unemployment is approaching double digits in many cities. Rural incomes have been declining in recent years. Beijing faces rising deficits and a mountain of bad bank loans. The new leaders who will emerge from this autumn's Party Congress will confront a country where multiple realities increasingly clash. How they resolve those contradictions will determine if China really can be one.

When most outsiders speak of "China," they are talking about a relatively thin slice of the country--the booming coastal provinces, where glitzy skylines and fashionably dressed crowds cause many visitors to wonder whether they've landed in Hong Kong by accident. In some Shanghai boutiques, you can fork over $100 for a brand-name polo shirt (no fake). Most people carry mobile phones. Young professionals hand out business cards inscribed with their English names, like Cindy or George.

In a sense, this is China. Coastal Chinese have a per capita income 75 percent above the national average and an effective purchasing power of almost $6,000 per year. Western businessmen may dream about what 1.3 billion extra pairs of Nikes could do for their bottom line. But most of them know perfectly well they're after the wallets of the tens of millions of middle-class Chinese here who can actually afford them. The coast holds one other key attraction: a large pool of skilled labor and engineers. That has drawn a flood of foreign direct investment--about $30 billion in 2000 alone--and an influx of manufacturing so overwhelming that countries like Malaysia and Mexico fear they'll soon have nothing left to make. All that money talks: some 13 of the 23 members of the Politburo have ties to the coastal provinces.

Yet with each passing year this "China"--which accounts for only 30 percent of the population--looks less and less like the rest of the nation. An entirely different China sweeps across the country's vast hinterland--a landscape denuded by thousands of years of cultivation by small farmers. Nearly 600 million downtrodden peasants populate this, the former cradle of Chinese civilization, and their circumstances are declining. No Western chipmakers are rushing to set up factories in places like Kaifeng, the former capital of the Sung dynasty. Even worse, China's accession to the World Trade Organization will ultimately open the doors to cheap Western grains and fruits, driving millions out of business. These Chinese already earn 25 percent less than the national average--some $700 per year--and yet are inundated with locally imposed taxes and fees. Despite their mind-boggling numbers, they have no representatives on the Politburo.

Their woes are mirrored in China's northeastern provinces. Once the country's industrial heartland, this is now its rust belt. Shuttered state-owned factories pockmark a gloomy landscape. Unemployed workers, when they are not demonstrating for jobs and back pay, gather on street corners looking for work. And economic hardship is not the only source of misery for the 107 million people trapped in the ruins of state socialism. An even bigger scourge is corrupt government and organized crime.

The rest of the People's Republic resembles nothing so much as a frontier. These vast and sparsely populated margins are home to the country's ethnic minorities--Tibetans, Uighurs, the myriad hill tribes of Yunnan. Illiteracy and poverty rates are high--per capita income in 2000 was 35 percent below the national average--and central control, often personified by Han settlers and military garrisons, is resented. In fact, the region's stunning natural beauty and famed hospitality belie a deeply troubled relationship with Beijing: during previous periods of imperial collapse, this Wild West was the first to bolt. Today, pro-independence sentiments simmer in the two largest provinces, Tibet and Xinjiang. Yet despite the area's outward backwardness, it is hard to imagine China without this region, which encompasses more than half the country's land mass.

Finally, there is the Chinese diaspora. If the Overseas Chinese community, including Hong Kong and Taiwan, were imagined into a separate China, it would have a population of about 55 million and a GDP of $1 trillion in 1999 (the same as the People's Republic). Like two other great diasporas (Jewish and Indian), this "bamboo network" is really a web of knowledge and commerce. It has also become the Middle Kingdom's most valuable link to the rest of the world: in the past two decades this community has channeled more than $200 billion in investment to the mainland and helped build an export juggernaut in light manufacturing and consumer electronics. At the same time, many of these ethnic Chinese bring with them an experience of democratic freedoms that Beijing would rather keep from its citizens.

Maintaining some semblance of cohesion over this vast, diverse land overwhelmed all but the most competent Chinese imperial rulers. The price has been steep. For centuries the country was divided into warring kingdoms. Communism promised to change all that, yet its blunders have only deepened China's underlying fissures. The fanaticism of the Cultural Revolution (1966-1976) alienated ethnic minorities. The government misallocated resources to capital-intensive heavy industries and neglected agriculture. Worse, Mao Zedong, who had never tilled the land, issued detailed edicts on how crops should be grown ("plow deep and sow densely"), with predictable consequences. State planning restricted the free flow of labor and capital. These policies kept people poor--and doubled regional income disparities from 1952 to 1978.

At first the reforms introduced by Deng Xiaoping reversed the trend. With market forces, not the government, channeling people and money, income disparities fell by 20 percent between 1979 and 1991. But Deng undermined this process with his famous call to "let some get rich first." In practice, this meant giving priority to the coast. Foreign investors arrived en masse, pouring more than $300 billion into China in the 1990s. Within a decade, the entire eastern seaboard had been transformed--Industrial Revolution, Chinese style.

At the same time, industrial decay spread throughout the northeast as Beijing dragged its heels on reforming moribund state-owned enterprises. Progress in large agrarian provinces stalled as farmers could squeeze no more out of their land. Beijing, starved for revenue, began to force citizens to pay for their own medical treatment and education--which in practice meant that many peasants received neither. Throughout this period, the Wild West was practically forgotten. By 1999, regional inequalities had returned to 1978 levels.

Those yawning gaps are only going to grow wider. The market promotes efficiency, not equality. The flow of money and people from the hinterland and rust belt to the coastal provinces will continue as long as the rewards there are greater. Those left behind are doomed to face slow growth, tattered social fabrics and crumbling local governments. Some have suggested these regional disparities could push the People's Republic toward disintegration. A more realistic danger is that the downtrodden Chinas will export their ills to rich China. An influx of millions of migrants could transform cities like Shanghai into Mumbai or Rio. Financial fraud, drug smuggling, the spread of HIV/ AIDS--these are among the problems.

The coastal provinces are defenseless against these threats. China's famed dynamism is not unstoppable. Regional inequality, economic stagnation and political decay at the local level could fracture the country's internal markets. An even more potent danger lurks behind this socioeconomic fragmentation--a political fragmentation that has already begun. Beijing's authority is likely to erode as provincial governments, disillusioned about the center's ability to look after their needs, decide to take matters into their own hands.

Luckily, Beijing still has some time to set things straight. In the short term, it needs to increase its spending on health and education in the hinterland and border regions. Authorities need to abolish onerous and illegal taxes. In the rust belt, the top priorities are to uproot incipient local mafia states and speed up economic reforms. All this requires money, of course. But where can Beijing, which collects only 17 percent of GDP in taxes, get the cash? China has no mechanisms to force coastal regions to increase their contributions so the money can be spent on other areas. China must therefore give more political voice to its noncoastal provinces. For a start, the new Politburo that will be named next month should include some party bosses from these regions.

The long-term solution lies in constitutional reforms that would turn China into a federalist state. But political engineering carries its own risks. (The last authoritarian regime to try something similar was the Soviet Union.) Chinese leaders may want to consider an unorthodox "bottom-up, top-down and cut-out-the-middle" approach. Give citizens a sense of empowerment with true local elections. Use a national vote to cement the legitimacy of the top leadership. Only then worry about instituting provincial elections. This will prevent the rise of Yeltsin-like regional strongmen. Of course, such a plan would likely doom the Communist Party, at least in its current form. But if its 2,200 years of history have taught China anything, it's that emperors cannot knit this huge, disparate nation together. It's time to give the Chinese people a chance.

Wednesday, October 31, 2007

Therapy may cut lung cancer risk

Cigarette
Smoking raises the risk of lung cancer
Treatment with a derivative of vitamin A called retinoic acid may help to cut former smokers' risk of lung cancer, research suggests.

It is suspected that lung cells damaged during years of smoking may continue to grow and evolve into cancer even after that person has quit.

Scientists found the therapy reduced growth among those lung cells.

The University of Texas study is published in the Journal of the National Cancer Institute.

Tobacco smoking accounts for 90% of the attributable risk for lung cancer, but the risk of the disease remains elevated for many years after people give up and never decreases to the level of that for non-smokers.

Nearly half of newly-diagnosed lung cancers occur in former smokers.

The researchers, from the university's MD Anderson Cancer Center, work focused on 225 people who were once heavy smokers, but who had quit the habit.

The volunteers either received a three-month treatment combining a form of retinoic acid with vitamin E; a different form of retinoic acid in isolation; or a placebo.

Tissue samples

The researchers examined samples of lung tissue taken from all the volunteers before and after treatment.

They measured proliferation of the cells by recording levels of a tell-tale chemical "biomarker" called Ki-67.

Both treatments reduced cell proliferation in one layer of the lung cells - the parabasal layer.

But the researchers were surprised that neither reduced cell growth in a second, the basal layer.

They say more work will be needed to tease out the exact effects of retinoic acid treatment.

But writing in the journal, they said decreased proliferation of lung cells should slow tumour development by reducing the number of cells in which things could go wrong, and minimising the potential for uncontrolled cell growth.

Dr Eva Szabo, of the US National Cancer Institute, agreed that more research was needed before the therapy could be tested in more advanced clinical trials.

She said: "We do not have a full understanding of the effects of these agents on [lung cells] or their effects during the full spectrum of carcinogenesis."

Josephine Querido, of the charity Cancer Research UK, said: "The effect of vitamin derivatives and supplements on lung cancer is unclear - so giving up smoking is by far the best way for smokers to reduce their risk of the disease.

"These early results are intriguing, but much more work is needed before we know for sure whether these chemicals could prevent, or slow, lung cancer growth."

Thursday, September 6, 2007

Beijing and Washington: Rivals In Asia

MSNBC.comNewsweek.com

Beijing and Washington: Rivals In Asia
Beijing and Washington are building new alliances throughout the continent.
By Christian Caryl
Newsweek International

Sept. 10, 2007 issue - Later this month, the navies of the United States, India, Japan, Australia and Singapore will get together in the Bay of Bengal for one of the largest peacetime joint military exercises ever. Dubbed Malabar 07, the exercise—which will include some two dozen ships, including two U.S. aircraft carriers—stems in part from Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe's recent push to strengthen ties with India and other Asian democracies. Abe, who visited Delhi in late August, is pursuing what he calls a "quadrilateral initiative," aiming at a security structure that would link India and Japan with the United States and Australia, promoting cooperation and interoperability among their military forces.

His motivation for the move isn't hard to understand. Around the same time Abe was in India, 6,500 troops from Russia, China and four Central Asian countries converged on the Siberian city of Chelyabinsk to show off their own armed prowess. The "Peace Mission 07" exercise was held under the auspices of the Shanghai Cooperation Organization (SCO)—a group formed by Beijing and Moscow in 2001 that is ostensibly dedicated to combating terrorism. Participants staged live-fire exercises involving paratroops, armored vehicles, and fighter-bombers. Russian President Vladimir Putin rejected any comparison between the SCO and alliances like NATO, saying such analogies were "improper either in content or form."

Yet the underlying message was clear enough. Taken together, the Malabar and Peace Mission exercises point to a potentially dangerous reality taking shape: the emergence of two competing security camps in Asia. On the one hand stands the United States, still the area's dominant military power; traditional allies such as Japan and Australia; and a few new friends, such as Mongolia and, potentially, India. On the other stands China, which is using its rapid economic growth and accelerating defense spending, as well as close ties to Russia, Pakistan, the Central Asian states, Burma, and Cambodia, to raise its own profile and to develop a sphere of influence. As the competition accelerates, more and more states are finding themselves forced to choose sides.

This is unlikely to result in a stark new cold war; for economic reasons, especially, countries in both spheres should remain more integrated than the Soviet and U.S. blocs were during the second half of the 20th century. And a number of states—including South Korea, Indonesia, Thailand, Malaysia, and Vietnam—seem determined to sit on the fence. Still, the security situation is growing increasingly tense as the sides jockey for influence.

Different experts describe the emerging division in different terms. Michael Green, a former special adviser to President George W. Bush on Asian affairs who now works at the Center for Strategic and International Studies (CSIS), sees it as a "maritime versus [a] continental" divide, with Asia's great land-based powers, China and Russia, aligning against seafaring states like the United States, Japan, Australia and Singapore. "That is a specter that concerns everyone in the region, and no one wants to go there," says Green. "There is a hardening of camps, and it could be destabilizing." Other scholars describe Beijing and Washington as more like competing centers of gravity, with smaller nations moving in and out of their orbits (or hovering between them) as interests dictate.

The forces driving the trend include rising nationalism and historical grievances. China remains intent on one day regaining control over Taiwan, which it considers a renegade province. To that end, it is steadily beefing up its own naval forces in ways designed to stymie U.S. power and project force well into the Pacific. China is also using its see-no-evil, hear-no-evil foreign policy to strengthen diplomatic ties to neighbors that could help it counter Washington. Russia—which supplies the lion's share of China's advanced weaponry, including the advanced anti-ship missiles and quiet submarines China needs for a blue-water navy—shares Beijing's resentment of Washington's moralizing on human rights. So do most members of the SCO, all of which (except tiny Kyrgyzstan) have authoritarian governments. In fact, Uzbekistan refused to join the SCO until Bush sharply chastised its president, Islam Karimov, for a violent crackdown on protesters in May 2005. Karimov was so angry that he reversed course and promptly signed up. And in July 2005, he participated in an SCO summit where leaders called on the United States to withdraw from military bases in Central Asia.

The SCO was once dismissed as a talking shop, but this year's exercise—the first time all six members (China, Russia, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, and Kyrgyzstan) contributed troops—showed that it's becoming a force to be reckoned with. It was also telling that Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad turned up to watch. The SCO has developed a considerable bureaucratic structure, with departments aimed at promoting cooperation in a variety of areas, including fighting drug trafficking, ethnic separatism, and terrorism. Despite the group's declared goals, its true aims are ambiguous at best; a 2005 exercise with Chinese and Russian troops involved the staging of an amphibious landing—clearly aimed at Taiwan, since landlocked Central Asia has little use for such missions.

Apart from anti-Western ire, another powerful glue binding the Chinese camp is energy security. Beijing is desperate to ensure that it has enough petroleum to power China's growing economy. Russia, for its part, has plenty of oil to sell. Both states, therefore, have good reason to want to limit U.S. influence in Central Asia, which is one of the world's most important new sources of oil and natural gas. Moscow and Beijing hope to keep Washington out by controlling pipeline development in the region. SCO members already control one fifth of the world's petroleum resources, and that share would increase dramatically if Iran, which now has observer status, were admitted to the club. It's no surprise that the SCO has placed energy security at the center of its expanding institutional framework, creating an "Energy Club" in July to promote cooperation among members. Hampshire College professor Michael Klare argues that energy is the key to understanding much of the emerging great-power rivalry in Asia. "Both the U.S. and China are driven increasingly by a fight for supplies," he says.

Beijing's growing strength and its new partnerships have unnerved U.S. allies like Japan, Australia and India, prompting them to draw closer to Washington—and, for the first time, to each other. Japan's Abe has begun promoting what he calls "value-based diplomacy" in the hope that he can persuade other Asian democracies to forge closer diplomatic and strategic ties. In March he and his Australian counterpart, John Howard, signed an unprecedented bilateral security agreement promising cooperation on intelligence and military issues.

Canberra has also vowed to join a multibillion-dollar U.S.-Japanese effort to construct a missile-defense shield. The plan calls for Japan to contribute valuable high-tech expertise and could see Australia offer its powerful ground-based radar, which can spot distant missile launches better than a sea-based system. The missile shield will ostensibly be dedicated to warding off attacks from North Korea. But many observers see it as a hedge against Beijing. Federico Bordonaro of the Rome-based think tank PINR argues, "The U.S. is going to need Australia's support for checking an ambitious China in the region."

The Malabar exercises will provide another such hedge. Security analysts say the venue of the maneuvers was carefully chosen to send a signal to the Chinese: namely, that the United States and its friends could thwart Beijing's "string of pearls" strategy, under which China aims to secure ports in friendly countries like Pakistan and Burma to ensure control over vital sea lanes. The Chinese certainly got the message. "The target of the maneuvers is China, although they deny it," says Guo Xiangang, a professor at the China International Studies Institute in Beijing. Chinese analysts say the exercise is part of a broader effort—one that will become clearer in the coming years—to dissuade China from seeking to dominate Asia. "The U.S. is concerned that China could catch up with the U.S. and challenge its regional dominance in East Asia," says Shen Dingli, an international-affairs expert at Fudan University in Shanghai. And according to Shen, Washington will do all it can to prevent that, in part by strengthening bilateral ties with Asian states.

Despite the many warning signs, however, some scholars advise against gloomy predictions. They argue that the SCO, for example, shouldn't be taken seriously, since its members, while sharing some interests, are divided by others. Though allies of convenience, Russia and China have a history of deep-rooted animosity, and both are ultimately more eager to do business with the West than with each other. "Putin is anti-Western, a former KGB hack, but he's not going to go to war or even start major confrontation with the U.S. for the sake of the Chinese," says Robert Dujarric, a security expert at Temple University in Tokyo. "The other countries of the SCO are insignificant, and they're balancing their bets."

Economic interconnections also greatly complicate the picture. "We look at China and we analogize to the cold war," says Brad Glosserman, executive director of Pacific Forum CSIS in Honolulu. "The fact is, however, that China is integrated into the West and the global economy in ways that the Soviet Union never was." Lin Chong-pin, a Taipei-based security expert and former Taiwanese defense official, agrees: "On the surface we see two blocs emerging, but when you take a deeper look, it's not so simple." Indeed, India may be courting the U.S. and Japan, for example—and the recent U.S.-India nuclear deal was a huge step in this direction. But India is also very eager to do business with China, and signed an economic-cooperation and border agreement with its giant neighbor in 2005.

Meanwhile, China also recently overtook the United States as Japan's leading trade partner—one reason that Abe, despite his security moves, has also worked hard at improving relations with Beijing. Even Australia, despite a long history of close relations with Washington, now depends on China for raw materials and other trade to keep its economy growing, and has thus become notably reluctant to criticize Beijing on human rights or Taiwan. "We're dancing with elephants," says Michael Fullilove of the Lowy Institute in Sydney.

Economic factors also help explain why a number of states have refused to align with either security camp. South Korea, once a stalwart U.S. ally, has lately seemed to be tilting toward China, which—here again—recently became Seoul's pre-eminent business partner. Of course, South Korea remains tightly bound to the United States through close military links, and it is unlikely to abandon those ties any time soon. But the drift toward the middle is unmistakable. Many South Koreans resent Americans as imperialist meddlers, and disputes over borders and history have soured relations with Japan—one reason Abe hasn't included the staunchly democratic South Koreans in the ranks of his "values based" coalition. President Roh Moo-Hyun greatly irked Washington in 2005 when he suggested that Seoul might seek to act as a "balancer" between the region's great powers. And the government in Indonesia seems to have a similar ambition. Formerly a close ally of Washington and Canberra, Jakarta inked a defense-cooperation agreement with the Chinese in 2005 that could include development of a missile arsenal. The largely Muslim Indonesians, dismayed by U.S. conduct in the Middle East, are also reported to be considering the purchase of Russian fighter planes and submarines—all part of a strategy aimed at playing the great powers off each other.

Some U.S. allies fear Washington, distracted by the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, is focusing its attention on a few of its larger friends in Asia while neglecting the smaller ones. Case in point is Thailand. Once famously close to the United States, the Thais have been courted assiduously by Beijing since U.S. aid dried up in the last few years. China has offered Bangkok help coping with its Muslim insurgency and offered to build a canal through Thailand's Kra Isthmus, which would let Chinese ships bypass the strategically sensitive Straits of Malacca. Bangkok has responded warmly to such offers. But Professor Thitinan Pongsudhirak of Chulalongkorn University in Bangkok says that while Thais, like most Southeast Asian states, would like close ties with China, they hope the United States will stick around in force to counterbalance it.

"Everybody has concerns about China, but the closer you are to China the less you're able to articulate them out loud," says the CSIS's Glosserman. "I think everyone is hedging in every direction." That may be. And it will probably be some time before China and its new friends pose a serious military threat to the United States and its camp. But they're trying—and if trends continue in the current direction, they may well someday succeed.

With Jonathan Adams and Wang Zhenru in Beijing, Sarah Schafer in Bangkok and Stephen Glain in Washington

URL: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/20546428/site/newsweek/page/0/

Sunday, August 5, 2007

Why Patients Are Flocking Overseas for Operations

Why Patients Are Flocking Overseas for Operations
Hospitals around the world are drawing new patients with topnotch doctors, high-tech equipment and low costs. These 10 are leaders in their fields.
By Joe Cochrane
Newsweek International

Oct. 30, 2006 issue - It's not a stretch to call Jamie Johnson an accidental tourist in Thailand. While touring with a Christian singing group last month, Johnson, a diabetic from the United States, developed an infection in her ankle that shut down her kidneys. She was evacuated by airplane from Malaysia to Bumrungrad International hospital in Bangkok—a facility she had ever heard of in a country she had never been to and in a city she had associated with sex shows in beer bars. "My husband back home was thinking, 'She's going to be in a straw hut'," she says.

Johnson, though, was lucky enough to land in Asia's first internationally accredited hospital and one of the most modern and efficient medical facilities in the world. Last year the hospital treated 400,000 foreign patients—the highest of any hospital in the world—from more than 150 countries, for everything from heart disease to hip replacements to breast implants. The attraction: world-class medicine at developing-world prices. And patients get velvet-glove treatment redolent of a five-star hotel. "We deliver the one thing that people want in health care but don't expect to get—service," says Ruben Toral, the hospital's marketing director.

As medical costs skyrocket—Americans spent 16 percent of GDP on health care last year, according to the OECD, and Europeans aren't far behind—the idea of going abroad to get healthy is becoming more and more attractive. More than 150,000 North Americans and Europeans currently seek medical treatment overseas each year, estimates Josef Woodman, author of the forthcoming "Patients Without Borders." For invasive surgeries, preferred destinations include India, Thailand, Singapore and Malaysia. Large hospitals, such as Bumrungrad and the Apollo chain in India, actively court American, European and Middle Eastern patients. Slick Web sites tout their partnerships with nearby luxury hotels for post-op recovery. Bumrungrad arranges limousines to pick up patients at the airport, and sheiks and princes congregate in the Platinum Lounge of Apollo's Delhi hospital. Abacas International, a leading travel facilitator, reports that medical tourism to Asia could generate up to $4.4 billion by 2012.

Businesses are taking notice. At least 40 corporations have signed on to the overseas plan that United Group Programs, a health insurer in Boca Raton, Florida, began offering six months ago. Sending an employee abroad can save 80 percent of the costs of a procedure; a $50,000 angioplasty in the United States costs less than $6,000 in Mohali, India, according to GlobalChoice Healthcare, a firm that arranges foreign medical procedures.

Bumrungrad officials insist that foreigners come not just for cheap bills and luxury accommodations. The hospital's doctors, they say, have been trained at the best Western medical schools and use the most advanced medical equipment. And the service is eye-opening for patients accustomed to public clinics. Walk-in patients see a specialist in 17 minutes on average. Since 75 percent of hospital revenues are paid by patients directly, health and insurance companies have no say in treatment. Low labor costs allow Thai hospitals to employ more staff.

Some health-insurance companies are embracing medical tourism to reduce costs and make policyholders happy. It is only a matter of time before the phenomenon evolves into medical outsourcing, says Mack Banner, Bumrungrad's CEO. "People are going to leave their country, they're going to go overseas and they're going to get health care," he says. To make room for them, Bumrungrad is building an 18-story outpatient center, which will double the hospital's capacity to 6,000 outpatients per day. That's room for a lot of tourists, accidental or otherwise.

With Barrett Sheridan in New York

Beijing’s Olympics Face-Lift: Radical Reconstruction

Beijing's Olympics Face-Lift: Radical Reconstruction
With the Olympics approaching, China is re-creating its once grim capital on an awesome scale.
By Melinda Liu
Newsweek International

Aug. 13, 2007 issue - The transformation of Beijing for the 2008 Olympics is emerging as perhaps the most ambitious remake of any major world capital in history, short of the postwar reconstructions. The silhouettes of the spectacular new stadium and swimming center are already familiar worldwide, but they are set in a rebuilt urban core that startles return visitors. Lush new green spaces, swirling expressways, shopping arcades roofed with giant LED screens, a new downtown financial center plus a vastly expanded public trans-port system have all rapidly appeared. To some, the Olympic-driven metamorphosis evokes the remaking of Paris by Baron Haussmann between 1865 and 1887—a complete redesign of the city center, including the creation of the grand boulevards for which Paris is famous today.

For others, Beijing's radical rebuild smacks of totalitarian-power architecture, akin to the grandiose but unrealized blueprints of Albert Speer, Hitler's favorite architect. But Albert Speer Jr. disagrees. The younger Speer—also a prominent German architect—recently redesigned a central eight-kilometer-long strip running from the center of the Forbidden City north to the new Olympic green. mandated by imperial feng shui masters, this has been Beijing's heart for centuries. Speer says his scheme is a paean to the city's tradition, not a power trip—despite being "bigger, much bigger" than his father's "megalomaniac" design for New Berlin.

However you characterize it, Beijing's rulers are now permitting ultramodern design of a type Maoists have long shunned as bourgeois or Western. Many of the new taboo-busting constructions are stunning gravity-defying structures designed by some of the world's top architects, as well as China's own young guns. Some have sparked unprecedented public debate about whether Beijingers should sacrifice its old charm for modern glitz and convenience—and at what cost. "[Architects] have introduced lots of things we didn't have and didn't do before," says designer Feng Keru, senior editor of the Chinese edition of Domus, the Italian architectural bible. As a result, she says, Beijing's recent edifice complex has triggered new standards for construction and engineering nationwide.

The Olympics will be a massive coming-of-age party for the world's newest economic superpower, as planned. But President Hu Jintao's administration is not just building an Olympic village; it is overseeing the creation of a dynamic new capital with "the pyramids of the 21st century," says Prof. Zhou Rong of Tsinghua University's architecture school. The problem is that, with the 2008 deadline looming fast, even Beijing can't quite control the pell-mell process of demolition and construction. The basic concern is how to balance costly environmental projects against the raw need for economic growth. The ruling Communist Party has long based its legitimacy on providing prosperity. But for several years now it's been struggling both to restrain construction spending in a dangerously hot economy and to redistribute income more fairly. The Olympic building program is clashing head-on with both goals, by concentrating Beijing's own spending in the wealthy capital and by inspiring every province to spend heavily on grandiose buildings, too.

The communist leaders are responding by trying to rein in the provinces. The contradiction is glaring. Tough new draft legislation on urban planning proposes stiff fines for property firms guilty of wasteful land use and other violations. In the spring, the Ministry of Construction blasted local governments for single-mindedly pursuing urban development and "vanity projects." It also warned the provinces against "blindly" hiring foreign architects who are "divorced from China's national conditions and pursue novelty, oddity and uniqueness," although this describes most of the architects redesigning Beijing. Many provincial leaders are taking this mixed message to mean "full speed ahead."

Locals have come to know the new projects by wry nicknames: the futuristic 90,000-seat National Olympic Stadium, with its massive external lattice of intertwined beams, is the "bird's nest." The equally stunning National Aquatics Center, a shimmering translucent block swathed in an energy-saving skin that looks like bubble wrap, is known as the "water cube." Then there's the "duck's egg," the National Opera House designed by French architect Paul Andreu: a titanium ovoid set near Tiananmen Square. And perhaps most breathtaking of all is the new headquarters designed by Rem Koolhaas's firm for the China Central Television corporation, or CCTV. The two 230-meter-high L-shaped towers lean into each other to form a vertiginous loop; local wags call it "trouser legs."

Beijing was overdue for a face-lift. When the Red Army first marched into the capital in 1949, Mao Zedong dreamed of turning it into a city of industry with "a forest of chimneys"—a vision he soon helped realize. When China's capitalist boom began many years later, Mao's smoking factories were soon surround-ed by ugly glass-and-chrome office towers, many topped with unintentionally kitschy pagoda roofs. The result was a mess: polluted, chaotic, hard on the eyes and decidedly less than world-class. "You can't say it was all rubbish," says Professor Zhou. "But just about."

The cleanup is well underway, and much will be done by the time the Olympics open on Aug. 9, 2008. Six new subway lines, a 43km light-rail system, a third airport terminal and runway, and 25 million square meters of property development—all this will greet a projected crowd of 500,000 foreign visitors and 1 million mainland Chinese. The leadership has earmarked some $12 billion for "greening" projects, from a 125km tree belt around the city to mandatory adoption of strict European vehicle-emission standards. Earlier this year, entire blocks of run-down low-rise tenements along the northern Second Ring Road were replaced within weeks by a two-kilometer-long green belt of parkland, walkways, small playgrounds, lighting and 25-foot-tall trees. And that's just one of numerous green spaces, including a 12-square-kilometer Olympic park.

Mao's beloved chimneys are quickly disappearing. Parts of the Capital Iron and Steelworks and the entire 1.5-sq-km Beijing Coking and Chemical plant have been shuttered or moved to neighboring Hebei province. During the desperate industrialization of the Mao era, both factories were great sources of prestige. But Party leaders are now increasingly concerned with the environment—especially with reducing Beijing's eye-stinging air pollution before the Games begin. Closing the Coking and Chemical Plant alone should reduce sulfur dioxide emissions by 7,500 tons annually, says plant president Zhang Xiwen. "Still, it was a big sacrifice," he says.

And it's not the only one. The speed of Beijing's makeover has further diluted much of the sense of order in this imperial capital founded by Kublai Khan. Ming emperors built the Forbidden City, with city gates and walls revolving around it, in a rectilinear grid. On taking the capital in 1949, Mao and his Russian advisers collectivized single-family courtyard homes, built factories and razed the city wall to make way for the Second Ring Road. (Now Beijing has six ring roads.) "Regrettably, very, very little of Old Beijing's look has been preserved," laments Ma Zishu, formerly deputy director of the high city's cultural-relics bureau. "The problems of disorder and high density began with the plans of Mao's Soviet experts," says Domus's Feng. "Now all of a sudden the government is trying to turn Beijing into an international city, so all of the tensions and conflicts [of spacing] have been intensified."

Many experts worry that insufficient thought is being given to preserving community and historical continuity. Ancient neighborhoods are vanishing. Beijing pre-servationists lament the disappearance of charming labyrinthine residential lanes known as hutongs—a Mongol word for "alleyway," many of which have been razed to make way for wide, modern boulevards.

Patchy central planning has created a city with a disjointed, deracinated feel. Entire villages near the Olympic facilities were demolished to make way for space-age-looking structures; nearby clumps of skyscrapers seem as if they'd been airlifted from Tokyo or New York and plunked down at random. Chinese "starchitect" Zhu Pei complains that Beijing's uprooted "ghettoes"—all business buildings here, all luxury residences there—make him feel as if he's "living in an urban archipelago." This approach, says James Brearley, head of the Shanghai-based architecture practice BAU, is typical of Chinese planners' preference for "superscaled segregated-zoning practices" once common in the West during the last century, with central business districts (CBDs) that emptied out at night and apartment complexes lacking retail outlets. The Chinese approach to city design thus far, he says, "is based on one single model, and the model is f—-ing disastrous. You can quote me on that."

Bad as it is, the provincial copies of this model are worse, and even cruder. Every mayor of a second- or third-tier city now seems to want to set a building record. The Jiangxi capital of Nanchang, for example, has constructed the world's largest Ferris wheel. Zhengzhou (population: 6.6 million) is competing with Chongqing (population: 31 million) for the title of the "Chicago of China," and its apparatchiks boast that they have more construction cranes per capita than any other city in the country. In Zhejiang province, city officials in Shaoxing reacted to the central government's order to limit new CBDs by simply rebranding theirs as a mixed-use "commercial center" with residential facilities. The makeover is grand, with a vast empty plaza (a Shaoxing version of Tiananmen Square), a pyramid-shaped building that is home to (what else?) the city's planning center, and a theater that looks like a knockoff of the Sydney Opera House. There are now about 100 small cities in China that, like Shaoxing, have built grand new opera houses, estimates Professor Zhou. Even Shaoxing officials regret having paved over ancient canals and humpbacked bridges that once gave the place a lyrical "water-city ambience"; officials are now trying to preserve what's left of the old town.

The type of city that emerges could be critical to President Hu Jintao's legacy. In contrast to the hypercapitalist policies of his predecessor, Jiang Zemin, Hu wants to close the alarming rich-poor gap and repair the tattered social safety net that has kept many Chinese mired in poverty. And he aims to do all this at a time when rural migrants are flocking to cities for jobs in services and on construction sites. To accommodate an influx of up to 300 million peasants in the next 15 years, China will not only have to "build almost the same amount of urban infrastructure as already exists," says Karl Traeger of Woodhead, the Australian firm that designed the original Shaoxing CBD. It will also need to plan more carefully. Showcase buildings and endless ranks of pricey luxury flats will do little to house the incoming army of workers, to advance Hu's "harmonious society," or to restrain the runaway construction sector that poses perhaps the single greatest threat to stable growth.

It's an open question how China will handle all this. The nation is now expected to surpass Germany as the world's third largest economy this year, a fitting opening act for the Olympic spectacle Beijing plans. But will the capital emerge as a metropolis of beauty and soul (like Paris) or a brawny show of power (à la Speer's vision for Berlin)? The latter seems far more likely unless China's top leaders—nine men trained as engineers—get serious about promoting "human" values, as they've promised.

With Jonathan Ansfield in Beijing and Duncan Hewitt in Shaoxing