NEW WORLD ORDER

Trump shrug

Image source: RenewAmerica

“New world order” is a phrase mostly associated with the immediate aftermath of the Cold War, when America and the Soviet Union decided to put their differences aside and cooperate rather than constantly menace each other. Together, the 2 superpowers were supposed to police the globe, punishing wrongdoers and promoting open societies and peaceful international relations. When the USSR collapsed, it was America alone who ended up playing this role, facing almost no resistance in its quest to shape the world in its own image and promote its own ideals.

We are once again living through a seismic shift in the world order like the collapse of the Soviet Union. For the most part, American “hyperpower” lent predictability to international affairs. No other country can seriously challenge the US, so none really try to. The benefits of free trade, open borders, democracy, human rights and peaceful diplomacy are obvious, so no one really worked against them. America was reduced to playing a police role, punishing countries like Iraq and Yugoslavia that transgressed international norms, mediating international disputes like the Arab-Israeli conflict to keep them from erupting, and ignoring problems like Rwanda or Zaïre that “didn’t matter.”

There are other contenders for seismic shifts in the world order since then. The 9/11 attacks in 2001 gave America (and, to a lesser extent, the rest of the West) a new sense of purpose. Terrorism moved from the back burner to the front of the agenda, and counterterrorism efforts have dominated American foreign policy ever since. The Iraq War seemed to presage a new era of American imperialism, but as time passes it seems less and less like it started a real trend. The global economic collapse in 2008 seriously discredited capitalism and empowered China and other emerging markets over a floundering West, but the world has slowly recovered from that chaotic time.

But now, America is challenging the very underpinnings of the world order. So much of international relations is shaped by America, whether other countries like it or not (and many of them are accustomed to it and take it for granted). It bankrolls giant organizations like the UN and the World Bank. Its military protects Europe, East Asia, and (to some extent) West Asia. The dollar is the international reserve currency. Its economy is the global powerhouse, both through its huge domestic market and its role in trade. Its political system is a model, conscious or otherwise, and its values are exported both through overt evangelists and more subtle messages in its pop culture.

Yet it seems that America is now losing interest in this. Military intervention leads to prolonged war and occupation, and Americans have been tired of it for a decade already. The military and financial contribution to NATO, the Western alliance, is no longer seen as worth it. Deep cuts to the federal government and bureaucracy have reverberations in its diplomacy, as the foreign service is suddenly understaffed, underfunded and mismanaged. Protectionism is back with a vengeance, no longer just an alternative economic theory or something to fall back on to score quick political points but the outright credo of the country. America now takes a realistic approach to foreign relations, no longer judging countries by their domestic situation but evaluating them in terms of straight-up strategic value. International commitments like the Trans-Pacific Partnership (TPP, a trade pact linking America with East Asia, Oceania and Latin America) and Paris Agreement (a climate change accord) have been discarded.

Some foreigners are freaking out about this, since America is the guarantor of global stability. Without that underlying guarantee, international relations enter a more unpredictable phase, where rising powers are more likely to challenge the status quo and bring about a different world order. Since the American-led world order has mostly worked out well — who doesn’t like peace, prosperity and freedom? — there is discomfort and uncertainty about what could replace it. The ongoing rise of China, in particular, is thought to indicate a new emphasis on nationalism and narrow-minded economic interests over democracy promotion or human rights. Russia is outright challenging the American-led order, and even though many of them have been reluctant to stand up to it before, European countries have been aghast at how unwilling America now is to confront Russian transgressions. Kenneth Roth, the head of Human Rights Watch, lamented that America’s new disregard for human rights would bring the world “to the verge of darkness.”

Other foreigners are shrugging the whole thing off or even smugly rejoicing. Any superpower is resented, and China in particular sees America as hogging the spotlight and getting in the way of its own influence. Free trade in particular is an issue with wide global appeal (especially among the business elite), and China has deftly positioned itself as the new champion of globalization. The TPP is now being resurrected by the original member countries, led by Japan, without American involvement. Others look to Germany and its stodgy but level-headed chancellor, Angela Merkel, as the new “Leader of the Free World” (China being too suspicious to trust).

So how much is all this for real? It’s far too soon to say, but it seems fair to underline how much all of these recent developments rest on 1 man: Donald Trump. Although observers have predicted America’s decline for a while now, the idea that it would suddenly give up on “leading the Free World” and lose interest in upholding international alliances would’ve seemed strange only 2 years ago. Within America, and especially its foreign policy establishment, resistance to Trump’s agenda is severe. Although Trump has certainly started a movement and has many devoted followers at home, foreign policy always takes a back seat in American politics, and it’s unclear how much shrugging off global commitments is part of Trump’s appeal. There are certainly elements of Trump’s team that back his hostility to allies and disregard for international commitments (Steve Bannon being foremost), but even among his administration there are personalities pushing for a more traditional foreign policy approach (like James Mattis, the secretary of defense, and Rex Tillerson, secretary of state). Given how chaotic Trump’s time in office has been so far, it’s fair to ask how durable his policies will be. Earlier this year editorials often asked whether Trump’s election heralded a new wave of right-wing populism across the West, but after centrist, pro-EU candidates won the elections in France and the Netherlands, these concerns have diminished.

There’s also the small problem that despite America’s eclipse, no other countries really want to step up to the plate. Britain is a more obviously declining power consumed with its controversial decision last year to exit the EU. Germany has been reluctant to shoulder the burdens of power since 1945 and is a shadow of its former self militarily. Japan, similarly, has a declining population and a tradition of pacifism and consensus. Russia may be reasserting itself and has pretensions of re-forming an alternative power center, but lacks the allies and international clout and reach it once had. China is the most obvious candidate, with its growing roster of clients all over the world, hegemonic status in East Asia, massive population, and assertive military posture…. but it remains inwardly focused and unwilling to engage in messy interventions in far-flung countries.

Ian Bremmer, an American political risk consultant, calls this state of affairs “G-Zero,” since no country really wants to take the lead and dominate the world. Having decried imperialism for so long, most countries can’t exactly assume the mantle of empire themselves. Economic growth remains the imperative for most countries, and that means pursuing narrow self-interest, not monitoring international agreements or intervening in faraway disputes of no immediate concern. Countries like Germany or Brazil have mostly narrow, regional focuses. International cooperation is hard, messy, tiresome and protracted. Military intervention, as America well knows, is bloody, expensive, frustrating and also protracted.

Thus, despite Trump’s antics, it seems most likely that America will continue to uphold global order for the time being. 1 erratic president can’t bring down a durable, popular international system all by himself. America remains the hub of world power. But Trump’s election, and later, his actions, have delivered an unmistakable jolt to the world. They have shown that all that talk about American decline was on to something. They have shown just how much other countries rely on America to get things moving. And they have shown that Americans aren’t necessarily fond of playing the role of global policemen, and that 1 successful agitator can push them away from embracing the role.

THE PURPLE SWEET POTATO

Gay Taiwan

Image source: PinkNews

GLBT (gay/lesbian/bisexual/transgender) rights are a mixed bag worldwide. Within a few decades, they have become mainstream and widely accepted in the West, where gay marriage is now becoming normal and gay lifestyles are integrated into urban society. In other regions — especially Muslim countries — homosexuality is seen as a horrible perversion and treated as a crime. It has become 1 of the most glaring symbols of “Western decadence” and “immorality” elsewhere and in Russia, and gay activists cocky after their string of victories in the West run into a steep cliff of incomprehension when they try to spread their values to Africa or Asia.

East Asia mostly sits in the middle of this spectrum. It embraces a wide array of cultures, from highly Westernized ones to conservative Islamic ones. Like other regions, it has its own cultural traditions and sense of native pride that makes it instinctively resistant to gay rights, but it’s also in the midst of deep modernization, which brings it closer and closer to Western norms. As such, reactions to GLBTs varies widely from country to country, but the country in the vanguard of gay rights so far is… Taiwan.

Taiwan might seem like an odd place for a gay haven. It is Chinese in culture, and other Chinese places like mainland China and Singapore are generally unfriendly to gays. China’s Confucian culture places a great emphasis on the family, and not only is a homosexual couple a direct challenge to the traditional concept of a family, it’s impossible for them to have kids. China might be uninterested (at least officially) in having more kids, but no such population control exists in Taiwan. And Chinese culture is famous for its resistance to outside influences.

Why Taiwan is so gay-friendly remains something of a mystery, but there are theories. Taiwanese like to point to the diverse cultural influences that have shaped Taiwanese history, from the aboriginal population in the mountains that descends from island Southeast Asia to the Hakka mariners who colonized the island centuries ago to the Portuguese and Dutch traders who colonized a few forts to the Japanese who annexed and colonized it in 1895 to the mainlanders who took over again in 1945. But there are plenty of places with diverse cultural influences, and they’re not necessarily gay-friendly. Besides, it’s not like the Dutch in the 1600s were especially gay-friendly (or the Japanese in the 1890s, or the natives…).

A more likely explanation is the growth of civil society on Taiwan. Although the country was a military dictatorship at first, its societal control was never as harsh as China’s, and its dictators ruled through martial law. The Republic of China (Taiwan’s government, transferred from the mainland in 1949) was founded along liberal republican ideals, and although they weren’t really fulfilled for most of the 1900s, they remained embodied in its constitution for brave protestors to point to. Taiwan has never been as closed as China, and before 1972 it enjoyed a close relationship with America, which meant exchanges of values and students and researchers trained in American universities. Even though political reform was the main goal, other social causes like environmentalism and feminism blossomed on this fertile ground, and each popular success emboldened other groups to change an ancient and seemingly immobile society.

Religion generally plays a big role in opposition to GLBT rights, and Taiwan is a more religious country than China. But the main religion is the unnamed Chinese religion, which is more tolerant of homosexuality and alternative lifestyles in general. There is also a folk tradition in Taiwan (originating from Fujian on the other side of the Strait of Taiwan) of a rabbit god, Tu’er Shen, who was originally a man executed for eyeing a handsome mandarin too much. The god protects gays and is worshiped at temples — a tradition wiped out in mainland China but quietly thriving in Taiwan.

Taiwan has accordingly enacted legal protections for GLBTs steadily since the 1990s. Employers are not allowed to discriminate against them, they are allowed to serve in the military, and they can change their legal gender. Concurrently, there is a widespread social acceptance of homosexuality. Pai Hsien-yung portrayed Taipei’s gay scene in the 1960s with his novel Crystal Boys way back in 1983; since then, world-famous director Ang Lee has made The Wedding Banquet, about a Taiwanese-American who ends up getting married to a woman because he can’t admit to his parents that he’s gay (it’s a hilarious movie, by the way), and lesbian relationships have been portrayed in movies like Blue Gate Crossing and Spider Lilies. Taipei’s gay pride parade has grown from a modest 1,000-person march in 2003 to East Asia’s premier gay event, with 80,000 participants last year. A McDonald’s commercial about a son coming out to his father (in a McDonald’s, naturally) drew nearly universal support. Public opinion polls have mixed results, as usual, but support for gay marriage regularly tops 50% (at least).

Fairly or otherwise, gay marriage has become the ultimate litmus test for how accepting of homosexuality a country is. While it is now widespread in the West and Latin America, it is still too much for East Asia to handle. But Taiwan pushed for gay marriage in the ’00s, when the movement to legalize it built momentum in the West. Despite opposition from Christians (who are a small minority in Taiwan) and older Taiwanese who saw it as an assault on their culture, the movement gathered steam. The Democratic Progressive Party, the main opposition party in Taiwan and the main embodiment of the reformist movement, embraced the idea. In 2015, its presidential candidate, Tsai Ing-wen, took the bold step of endorsing gay marriage in a Facebook post.

This year, Taiwan has come closer than ever before to finally adopting gay marriage. The Constitutional Court ruled on May 24 that the Republic of China’s constitution’s guarantee of equality meant that gay marriage has to be recognized. It’s now up to the Legislative Yuan (parliament) to pass the laws or amend preexisting ones, and this looks likely to happen. Even if it doesn’t, the Court ruled that it would recognize gay marriages within 2 years anyway. The ruling has been preceded (as in other countries, like America and Mexico) by the gradual legal recognition of homosexual partnerships in municipalities across the island, including almost all of Taiwan’s west coast, where most of its people live.

The dawn of gay marriage in Taiwan, when it formally comes, will be a landmark moment in East Asian history, since Taiwan — a small, overlooked island despised by its massive neighbor — would be the first country in the region to do it. The question then is: Will others take notice? Taiwanese culture subtly influences China, and there is a GLBT movement there too… but the Chinese government hates any sort of grassroots organizing, and it’s typically conservative when it comes to “public morality.” Japan and Taiwan have close and warm ties left over from their colonial relationship, and Japan also has a thriving gay scene and widespread social acceptance of homosexuality… yet it also has a much more reserved and private culture and GLBTs are expected to “get over” their flings and move on to more serious relationships and assume their adult responsibilities. Singapore is another advanced, modern Chinese country with a big, visible gay community and a famous “Pink Dot” event… but it continues to ban homosexuality. Thailand is famously accepting of GLBTs and “alternative lifestyles,” but it’s currently ruled by a conservative military junta with a dim attitude towards homosexuality.

It’s hard to say how quickly East Asia will embrace GLBT rights. Taiwan’s example has emboldened GLBT communities elsewhere, and the example of the West suggests that grassroots pressure will only grow. But religious conservatism in India and Muslim countries remains powerful. Given the Western and Latino origin of the gay rights movement, many non-Westerners are suspicious that homosexuality is really a latent human condition and consider it an unwelcome cultural import. And even the more liberal, Westernized East Asian countries prefer to tacitly accept GLBT culture without going so far as to recognize gay marriage. This just makes Taiwan’s achievement — in a Confucian society only a few generations beyond dictatorship — all the more remarkable.

TONGUE-TIED IN CAMEROON

Cameroon lawyers

Striking Anglophone lawyers show off 1 easy way to tell them apart from Francophone lawyers… Image source: Bareta News

Identity politics are pretty much a universal axis of conflict, although the type of identity under dispute can vary. Religion is a very old and very bitter source of animosity. Class is a universal divide and still provokes outrage in places with high inequality. Race is a hot-button issue in multiracial countries. The nebulous concept of “ethnicity” divides and unites societies worldwide. Some commentators even point to the even more nebulous concept of “civilization” as a rallying point for political allegiance.

Language might seem to be less controversial, because it’s something everyone uses all the time everyday without much thought. But its very fundamentality makes it crucial and vital: how can you understand someone if you can’t understand what they’re saying? In multilingual contexts people sort themselves by preferred language all the time. In sub-Saharan Africa this can be a problem, given how many different languages are spoken across the continent, but luckily colonialism has given Africa a small group of languages that are spoken across tribal and national lines. Their importance in giving African countries something to unite around becomes obvious when you consider Cameroon, a central African country with the unusual situation of having 2 colonial languages.

BACKGROUND
Cameroon, like its giant neighbor Nigeria, is a very artificial country. It has over 200 different tribes and encompasses everything from the verdant Cameroon mountains in the west and the desert by Lake Chad in the north to the tropical jungles in the east and the plateau in the center and south. The north is more like the dry, Muslim Sahel region of West Africa and the east is more like the Congo jungle that dominates Central Africa. The more densely populated west has more in common with the tribes of Nigeria. (The upshot to this is that Cameroon is advertised to tourists as “Africa in Miniature”; since it’s located at the “hinge” where West Africa becomes Central Africa, it’s probably the single best introduction to the continent and packs a lot of diversity into a relatively small package.)

Cameroon’s colonial history only adds to this diversity. It was one of the blank spots on the map scooped up by Germany in the 1880s when it got into an imperialist mood. Thus, the colony was organized along German lines and German was the official language. But Germans never got very far into the interior (despite claiming a lot of territory); they stuck to the profitable, accessible coastal regions and relied on missionaries to do a lot of the intermediary stuff with Africans, and they tended to use local languages. When Germany lost control of the colony during World War I, there hadn’t been much cultural influence to clear away (although German remains a favorite language to study there).

Instead, Cameroon became a British AND French colony. It was surrounded by Britain in Nigeria to the west and France in its colonies to the south and east. They invaded together in 1914 and partitioned the colony between them. The trouble is, France got much further than Britain — leaving only a narrow strip along the Nigerian border in British hands. The colonial powers went on to govern their sections differently, too: Britain preferred to use indirect rule, leaving local elites intact and mostly staying out of local affairs, while France liked direct rule, scooping up plantations and mines, creating a rich settler community to manage them and introducing its customs and culture to “civilize” the Cameroonians.

Cameroon

After 1972 Cameroon became the “United Republic of Cameroon,” but the borders have stayed unchanged. Orange = German territory, red = British territory, blue = French territory.

When independence came to Africa in 1960, French Cameroon gained it without much fuss. The question was what to do about the British Cameroons, which were thought too small to be viable independent countries. Should they join neighboring Nigeria, from which they had been basically governed and with which they shared cultural and linguistic ties? Or should they join Cameroon, from which they’d been separated for 44 years and which would probably dominate them? The Brits put it to a vote in 1961, and surprisingly, the result was a split. Northern Cameroons chose to join Nigeria while Southern Cameroons went for reunification. (It’s hard to say why this was, but apparently local elites in the north decided that Nigeria would better protect their interests and vice versa in the south, and they managed to convince everyone else to vote accordingly.)

Northern Cameroons was soon absorbed and integrated into Nigeria, although transnational tribal ties linger, as they do across Africa. But Southern Cameroons faced the prospect of joining a much larger country where everyone spoke French and where many were in thrall to French culture. It was nervous, but initially the 2 former colonies formed a federation, where each had its own government and prime minister, with a president presiding over a weak central government in Yaoundé (in the French zone). But Cameroon’s founding father, Ahmadou Ahidjo, like most other African leaders, eventually came to crave more power and crushed all opposition to his rule. This included pesky West Cameroon, which was fully absorbed into a unitary republic in 1972 (hence the date on the map above).

English-speakers (“Anglophones”) were mollified by constitutional guarantees that their language would be respected; Cameroon is officially bilingual. Anglophones are often appointed as ministers in the national government. The unique administrative structures set up by Britain also remain intact. But Cameroon is a dictatorship; its president, Paul Biya, has clung onto power since 1982, which makes him 1 of what are derisively called Africa’s “dinosaurs” (really long-serving rulers). Threats to his power — or to national unity — are not tolerated.

CURRENT SITUATION
Anglophones complain that they are 2nd-class citizens in their own country. French-speaking (“Francophone”) judges sent to their regions don’t understand British “common” law (France uses a different law code promulgated by Napoleon). Francophone teachers sent to their schools can’t easily communicate with their students. Yaoundé generally ignores the west or takes it for granted, since the region is cloaked by a veil of English.

Some Anglophones go even further and complain that they are actively discriminated against. Government funds are often linked with the tribal ties of the relevant ministers in Africa, and when the national government is dominated by Francophones, that means West Cameroon goes undeveloped. Attending school in the rest of Cameroon or getting a job in the big cities (both of which are Francophone) is hard for Anglophones, since they can’t understand their teachers or coworkers. There is widespread suspicion that, in the name of national unity, the bilingualism drive is really just a way to get all Cameroonians to speak French — something many Anglophones are reluctant to do.

Protests against the government have come and gone in Cameroon; they are usually tied to economic problems (which might say something in itself), and although in 1990 they played a role in getting Biya to liberalize a bit and allow other parties to run in elections, the language situation has not changed much. The latest outbreak of protests began in October with a lawyers’ strike. It then expanded to include teachers and eventually big parts of West Cameroon, to the extent that towns were declared “ghost towns” on Mondays and everyone would go on strike. (Those who dared to go to work faced arson and beatings for breaking the strike.)

The government responded with repression. Police broke up the protests and arrested anyone openly calling for secession (as “Ambazonia”); at least 6 protesters were killed. More deviously, it also pulled the plug on West Cameroon’s Internet. From January until April, the Anglophone areas — already separated from many Cameroonian websites by their language — were cut off from the Internet altogether, partly as punishment, partly to squelch any organized resistance. The west is one of Cameroon’s most economically vibrant regions, dubbed “Silicon Mountain” due to its tech start-ups. The Internet blackout cost it $3 million and forced everyone to keep in touch via texting instead. Anyone needing to use the Internet had to take the day-long journey into the Francophone part of the country on Cameroon’s crummy buses.

So is Cameroon headed for civil war and breakup? Probably not. Secession is very hard to actually achieve in Africa; the last time it happened was in 2011 (South Sudan), and not only was that a rare and remarkable event, but it’s gone REALLY badly since. Even without government repression tying up their organizational efforts, Anglophone groups are very divided. Some want an independent Ambazonia, others want to go back to the “good old days” of federalism, others just want more decentralized government and local autonomy. Within West Cameroon, there are tribal divides and a rivalry between the “Graffi” of the Grasslands in North West Cameroon and the coastal people of the South West. Some are suspicious that talk of secession is just a ploy for Anglophone politicians to grab more power.

Francophones, meanwhile, are not very sympathetic. They make up 80% of the country and think Anglophones are whiny. They point out that other parts of the country are worse off (like the north, which is harried by the jihadist rebels of Boko Haram) and comparatively quiescent. Anglophones get plenty of central government positions, including the prime minister’s office, and they tend to be pretty content and pro-Biya once they get them. And as Emmanuel Anyefru points out in “The Refusal to Belong,” Cameroonians have many bonds that cut across linguistic lines. Both Anglophones and Francophones like Cameroon’s catchy makossa music, eat plantains and fufu, drink beer and palm wine, watch Cameroon Radio and Television, and enjoy the formidable national soccer team. A pidgin form of English is also widely understood across the country, even if it’s not what you’re supposed to speak in school or the office.

Cameroon’s experience sheds some light on how important languages are for bringing a country together. A common language — especially a colonial language, since they come from outside and are not ethnically biased within African contexts — can serve to bind wildly different tribes and cultures together. Lacking this, it’s harder to conjure up a sense of national identity. When the linguistic minority is as small as Cameroon’s is, it makes the feeling of victimization and discrimination even more acute. Although it’s by no means a perfect solution (except for the most passionately nationalist, anyway), Canada might be a good model for Cameroon. With a small but fiercely proud Francophone minority overshadowed by an Anglophone majority spanning the continent, Canada is sort of the reverse of Cameroon. But a bilingual national identity is carefully cultivated in Canada, and national politicians are expected to be fluent in both languages.

(Or Cameroon could just try more political liberalization, although dictators usually hate that.)