Showing posts with label China. Show all posts
Showing posts with label China. Show all posts

Sunday, October 18, 2026

Xi’s Invitation to American Students Comes with Dangerous Strings Attached

By Christopher Nye

Sunday, October 18, 2026

 

At his White House welcoming ceremony last month, Chinese President Xi Jinping announced that China would invite 100,000 young Americans to study there over the course of five years. Daniel Di Martino of the Manhattan Institute wrote on X that the program is “clearly intended to indoctrinate young Americans in China,” and a column in The Hill warned of hostage-taking and stolen lab research. These worries are reasonable but may never materialize. As for indoctrination, many Americans who have lived in China come home more critical of Beijing than when they left; Matt Pottinger reported from China for seven years before helping shape the first Trump administration’s China policy.

 

Our concern should be the data these students will unwittingly hand over through their phones. Beijing will likely keep it for years and use it as it pleases. In practice, nearly every student will need WeChat, which New York University Shanghai’s IT guide calls “an essential communication and payment platform in China.” Some programs require it outright: A Tsinghua summer program tells students to install the app and join its WeChat group before arrival because “almost all course materials and information” go out through it. WhatsApp, Signal, Telegram, and Gmail are blocked in China, and few people carry cash, so students use WeChat for cabs, meals, and class chats.

 

In 2024, after reverse-engineering the proprietary protocol of Tencent, WeChat’s Chinese owner, the University of Toronto’s Citizen Lab confirmed that WeChat lacks end-to-end encryption and that “WeChat’s servers can and do decrypt and read each transmitted message.” A 2023 Citizen Lab study found that activity in WeChat’s mini programs — used for everything from doctor visits to campus paperwork — is automatically logged and sent to Tencent, with no way to opt out.

 

Under Article 28 of China’s Cybersecurity Law, network operators must provide “technical support and assistance” to public and state security organs, and Article 7 of the National Intelligence Law requires every organization to assist state intelligence work and keep it secret. Tencent is bound by both. China’s police, a term covering both public security and state security agencies, need no judge’s warrant to demand data, and companies have no formal way to refuse.

 

In 2019, Gao Zhigang of Taiyuan forwarded a video to a friend in the United States and was jailed, sentenced to ten months for “picking quarrels and provoking trouble.” Radio Free Asia, which reviewed the case file, reported that documents in the evidence showed China’s internet regulator and the Chinese Communist Party’s propaganda department monitoring WeChat chats directly. Gao said he had deleted the video right after sending it and that the police screenshots could not have come from his phone. The chat he deleted still ended up in court as evidence.

 

Tencent’s help center says an account tied to a mainland phone number counts as a Weixin account, the domestic version of WeChat, and is subject to Chinese terms and privacy rules. Students usually buy a real-name-registered Chinese SIM card in their first week, and NYU Shanghai tells those who buy one through the university to “register for both WeChat and Alipay on-site before leaving,” which puts them on Weixin from day one.

 

Anything beyond monitored chat, starting with payments, requires uploading a passport and scanning one’s face. So does buying the SIM card, under a December 2019 rule, and at most of China’s top universities students scan their faces again at campus gates, dorms, and libraries.

 

The Citizen Lab has found that accounts first registered with a mainland number stay under China’s censorship rules even after switching to a foreign number, so a U.S. number back home does little. Most students keep WeChat anyway, since it is often their only link to friends and host families in China.

 

The State Department’s China travel advisory tells Americans using Chinese apps to assume China’s security services can read their messages “even when you are in another country, including the United States.” It adds that China “has detained people even when they sent these messages outside of China.”

 

Young Americans willing to learn Chinese and live in China are the ones most likely, a decade from now, to work on China at the State Department, in intelligence and the military, on Capitol Hill, and in newsrooms. By the time they are 20, Beijing could have a file on each of them — a passport-verified identity, a face, the people they met, where they went, what they bought, and what they said in private. As long as they use WeChat, even once they’re back in the U.S., the file keeps growing. That standing access is the most dangerous part, since how Beijing might use it later is hard to predict.

 

In 2004, Glenn Duffie Shriver, a Michigan student who had studied in Shanghai, answered an ad for papers on U.S.–China relations. Chinese intelligence officers cultivated him, paid him more than $70,000, and steered him to apply to the State Department and the CIA. When he was found out, he got four years in prison, and the FBI turned his case into a cautionary film for students abroad. Finding and developing a Shriver once took time, ads, and dinners; through WeChat, the Ministry of State Security can now size up these students and spot the next one with little effort.

 

In the 2018–19 academic year, 11,639 American students earned credit in China; in 2023–24, only 1,749 did. Those still willing to go deserve protection, as do the Chinese classmates on the other end of their chats, who face greater danger. Guarding against Beijing should not mean treating Chinese Americans or Chinese students here as suspects. The Justice Department’s China Initiative against espionage and technology theft, launched in 2018, ended up targeting scholars of Chinese descent and was shut down in 2022.

 

A spare phone protects only what is on a student’s regular one, since the WeChat account and contacts live on Tencent’s servers. Deleting the account at home retrieves no uploaded records or face data and cuts the student off from friends in China. Students can do little else on their own; the rest falls to Washington.

 

The simplest step is for the State Department to tell families the truth by moving its warning about Chinese apps off a little-read web page and into every exchange program’s pre-departure material. A parents’ group counts about 80 universities and more than 20 K-12 schools in Beijing-funded programs, and every family involved should see that warning before a student leaves.

 

Reining in WeChat at home will be harder but is necessary. Trump’s August 2020 ban on the app was blocked by a federal judge on free-speech grounds after users sued, and Biden later revoked it. Congress has since supplied a sturdier tool: the 2024 law aimed at TikTok. The Protecting Americans from Foreign Adversary Controlled Applications Act, unanimously upheld by the Supreme Court in January 2025, lets the president designate foreign-adversary-controlled apps with more than a million monthly U.S. users by determining that they pose a significant threat to national security. Trump should make that determination for WeChat and force Tencent to sell its U.S. business or leave the American market. Either outcome would limit Beijing’s free hand with Americans’ data.

 

At the White House, Xi said the hope of U.S.–China relations lies with the people and its future with the young. Beijing takes that line seriously — seriously enough that the United States had to stop recruiting exchange participants in China after Chinese authorities harassed, threatened, and in some cases arrested them. As up to 100,000 young Americans arrive over the next five years, Beijing will presumably take what is on their phones just as seriously. Washington should act before the first of them board their flights.

Saturday, October 3, 2026

Don’t Be Like China

By Judson Berger

Friday, October 02, 2026

 

You might not have heard of the case of Guo Degang. He’s a popular comedian in China who recently was investigated for the offense of modifying the lyrics to a Chinese revolutionary song in, of all places, Wuhan. Reportedly, he changed the line, “The sun is about to set in the west; all is quiet on Weishan Lake,” by swapping the lake for “the Forbidden City.” You had to be there, I suppose. For this lyrical tweak, “he was reported to [Wuhan’s] culture and tourism bureau,” according to the New York Times, and fines followed.

 

Now, before you say, “but Jimmy Kimmel” — if only Kimmel could have been so subtle. Yet the Guo episode is one of many reminders lately that the China model is nothing to emulate.

 

For the record, the FCC’s Kimmel fit was “preposterous,” as we’ve editorialized, and the court system is taking up that fight. And that is a crucial detail, the independent judiciary. Ask Jimmy Lai. Jianli Yang, writing on Xi Jinping’s visit to Washington, cites a more recent administration fight with the media to point up and appreciate our differences in that regard:

 

Here an apparently unrelated event during Xi’s visit becomes important.

 

The White House had barred CNN, MS NOW, and Politico from White House grounds. The organizations sued. Other major media organizations stood with them. Then U.S. District Judge Timothy Kelly, appointed by Trump himself, ordered their access restored. The administration complied.

 

Consider how strange this must appear from Beijing. A president appoints a judge. The judge later rules against the president. The president is angry. The ruling nevertheless takes effect.

 

Jianli goes on to argue that, in the emerging AI debate, America must hold onto its values and not adopt, for instance, “China’s methods of surveillance, information control, centralized data collection, and political management” in pursuit of technological goals.

 

Yet Beijing’s command of economy and society continues to hold a certain allure among Western policymakers and provocateurs alike: whether seen in the New Right’s pursuit of an industrial policy of our own or the far left’s fandom toward (in the words of one noxious host) “Chinese-style Communism” and “Cultural Revolution sh**” or, going farther back, the media’s early praise for China’s Covid response.

 

Thérèse Shaheen, addressing other misconceptions, explains that the country is not doing nearly as well economically as is often portrayed. She writes,

 

The Chinese Communist Party has been working overtime to present China as an unstoppable economic and technological power. Artificial intelligence has become particularly useful to this narrative. China’s advances in AI are real. So are its accomplishments in electric vehicles, batteries, robotics, drones, solar panels, and advanced manufacturing. But the Trump administration, along with other Western governments, much of the business world, and many economic and political analysts confuse the technologically sophisticated portions of the Chinese economy with the Chinese economy itself. China remains a mostly poor, mostly uneducated, aging society riven with internal inconsistencies. Only a sliver of its population is involved in the tech sectors that have the world so mesmerized.

 

Despite Trump’s praise for Xi as a “great leader” and his touting of their “fantastic relationship,” Jim Geraghty also lists the myriad ways China and its entities have tried to (almost literally) blow up that relationship: sending components to Iran that can be used in drones and missile guidance systems, providing satellite images to Iran of a U.S. base in Jordan before a fatal attack over the summer, allegedly conducting a cyber-espionage campaign that compromised federal agencies, and so on.

 

But most important, the personal liberties we take for granted remain unrealized in China, certainly by comparison. Guy Denton published a startling profile this week on a member of the long-persecuted Uyghur minority. Read it:

 

When Mihrigul Tursun arrived in the United States, nothing around her made sense.

 

The food, clothes, and buildings that permeated her new life were unfamiliar and disorienting. Insomnia and anxiety haunted her. When she managed to sleep, she was plagued by nightmares of what she’d escaped. In moments of distress, she would withdraw to the bathroom to scream and weep in privacy, running the shower and playing loud music to conceal the noise from her young children.

 

Slowly, however, she adjusted. And while the trauma of her past life will never fully disappear, America has come to feel like home. “I am safe here,” she told National Review in a telephone interview. “Nobody can hurt me.”

 

Tursun, a Uyghur Muslim, fled China to escape the government’s relentless campaign of religious persecution. Her arrival in America came only after years of abuse in China’s vast network of Uyghur internment camps. And her story is emblematic of a broader crisis unfolding in China that the Western world seems reluctant to address. The Chinese Communist Party does not simply wish to exterminate the Uyghurs — it seeks to purge China of all forms of religious faith.

 

As Guy reports, Tursun was detained in a Xinjiang camp several times, held once “in a roughly 45-square-foot cell with more than 60 other women,” conditions that led to several deaths: “The prisoners were frequently tortured. Tursun was once strapped to a chair and electrocuted. Others, she learned, were forcibly sterilized. Before she left China, Tursun was injected with a mysterious substance. She fears that it may eventually kill her.”

 

By all means, Hasan Piker, keep ranting about the model of Chinese-style imprisonment.

Tuesday, September 29, 2026

Make American Democracy Great Again

By Jianli Yang

Tuesday, September 29, 2026

 

The world watched last week’s Trump-Xi summit with the familiar expectation that the leaders of the world’s two most powerful countries might finally unveil a “grand deal.” The same expectation surrounded their Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation meeting in Busan, South Korea, last November and President Trump’s state visit to China in May. Each time, observers were disappointed: no historic reconciliation, no decisive confrontation, no grand bargain. This week’s summit, with its extraordinary pomp and ceremony, was therefore widely dismissed as a made-for-TV event with few deliverables. I think this misses what actually happened: The grand deal is already taking shape. It is simply not the kind people have been looking for.

 

There is a line in an old Chinese poem: One searches for her a thousand times in the crowd, only suddenly to turn around and find her standing where the lights are dim. We have been searching for a grand deal in communiqués, tariff schedules, and dramatic concessions. But the real deal is emerging through the increasingly frequent interactions between Trump and Xi themselves: a tacit understanding about the nature of their competition and, above all, that neither side currently wants to overturn the table.

 

After seven years of trade conflict, the Busan summit crystallized an uncomfortable reality. Each country possesses tools capable of inflicting serious economic damage on the other. Neither can easily force the other to capitulate, and both would pay dearly for unrestricted economic warfare. The resulting trade truce bought something more important than tariff relief: time.

 

What has followed has been extraordinary diplomatic choreography. Trump visited China in May; four months later, Xi came to Washington. Both received unusually elaborate treatment. More meetings are planned. Behind the pageantry is recognition of a strategic fact: G-2 has become a reality. But it is a realist G-2.

 

Realism begins not with what we wish the other country to be but with what it is: an opponent with the power, interests, ambitions, and capacity to hurt us. Trump and Xi are, in different ways, masters of transactional politics. Neither expects the other to convert. The emerging framework rests on mutual recognition of power and calculations of national interest.

 

That does not make the framework stable. The Chinese saying is blunt: “One mountain cannot accommodate two tigers.” International-relations scholars call the corresponding danger the Thucydides Trap: When a rising power challenges an established one, structural pressures can push them toward war. But Xi has repeatedly insisted that the Thucydides Trap can be overcome.

 

Perhaps. But Xi cannot know that. Trump cannot know it. Nobody can. That uncertainty explains the emphasis on “strategic stability.” What Trump and Xi appear to be constructing is neither friendship nor surrender. Competition continues. Conflicts continue. Each side still seeks advantage. But both have concluded that now is not the time to flip the table. If a showdown can be avoided, avoid it. If it cannot be avoided, postpone it. Meanwhile, accumulate strength. That, I believe, is the Trump-Xi grand deal. It is not a treaty. It is an understanding about how to compete.

 

Xi gave it its most audacious formulation during this visit: The “great rejuvenation of the Chinese nation” and making America great again can “go hand in hand” and even reinforce each other. Let’s call Xi’s objective MCGA — Make China Great Again.

 

Can MAGA and MCGA really reinforce each other? Taken literally, the proposition strains credibility. America wants to restore manufacturing, maintain technological primacy, strengthen its military, and preserve global influence. China wants technological self-sufficiency, industrial dominance, military modernization, greater global influence, and national “rejuvenation.” Their ambitions collide precisely where each matters most.

 

MAGA-plus-MCGA is therefore less geopolitical reality than useful strategic fiction. Both leaders nevertheless have reasons to behave as though it might be true.

 

Trump places American reindustrialization at the center of MAGA. The new U.S.–China Boards of Trade and Investment could allow selected Chinese capital and technology to contribute to American manufacturing.

 

Taiwan presents the harder test. For Xi, “reunification” is inseparable from national rejuvenation. Beijing says Xi urged Washington to adopt the “correct position of opposing ‘Taiwan independence.’” Trump has not publicly accepted that formulation. America traditionally says it does not support Taiwan independence, not that it opposes it. Yet the White House summit account conspicuously omitted Taiwan, while a roughly $14 billion Taiwan arms package has remained unsigned for months.

 

More strikingly, the White House shared that the “United States and China were allies in World War II and fought side by side to win the war” against Japan. This version of history is errant. America’s formal Chinese ally was the Republic of China under Chiang Kai-shek, not the People’s Republic, which did not exist until 1949. That wartime ROC survives today on Taiwan.

 

Why emphasize such deliberately broad historical language now? One possible interpretation, perhaps the only logical one, is that strategic ambiguity is becoming even more ambiguous — about who are friends and who are adversaries, extending beyond whether America would defend Taiwan toward how Washington places Taiwan, and perhaps Japan, within its larger accommodation with Beijing. This does not prove that the U.S.’s Taiwan policy has changed. But this new friend-or-foe ambiguity has strategic consequences, which help explain the unease in Taipei and Tokyo.

 

There is another foundation beneath the new G-2. Trump and Xi increasingly acknowledge and praise each other’s civilizations. Trump invoked Confucius during his China visit; at the National Archives, he contrasted America’s 250 years with China’s thousands. Xi, in turn, praised America’s distinctive founding spirit.

 

Admirable diplomacy. But something is missing. The leaders can celebrate each other’s civilizations while avoiding the enormous difference between their political systems. And here an apparently unrelated event during Xi’s visit becomes important.

 

The White House had barred CNN, MS NOW, and Politico from White House grounds. The organizations sued. Other major media organizations stood with them. Then U.S. District Judge Timothy Kelly, appointed by Trump himself, ordered their access restored. The administration complied.

 

Consider how strange this must appear from Beijing. A president appoints a judge. The judge later rules against the president. The president is angry. The ruling nevertheless takes effect.

 

That is constitutional government. But in Xi’s China, the media must “bear the Party’s surname.” In America, the media does not bear Trump’s surname, the Republican Party’s surname, or the Democratic Party’s surname. Presidents can attack journalists; journalists can attack presidents; courts can restrain presidents; and presidents remain presidents.

 

This is not peripheral to the competition with China. It is part of what America is competing with. Talking about competition. Nowhere is that more consequential than in artificial intelligence.

 

Trump and Xi deserve credit for establishing a dialogue on “super intelligence” and a bilateral communication channel for AI incidents. Advanced AI can enable cyberattacks, manipulate information, affect weapons and critical infrastructure, and increasingly act with degrees of autonomy its creators may not fully anticipate. Its benefits will not respect national borders. Neither will its dangers.

 

Yet Washington and Beijing remain obsessed with one question: Who will win? The harder question is: What does winning mean?

 

Suppose America develops the world’s most powerful AI and dominates compute and robotics but concludes along the way that defeating China requires adopting China’s methods of surveillance, information control, centralized data collection, and political management. Would that constitute an American victory? If America must become more like China to defeat China, China has achieved something remarkable without firing a shot.

 

This is why freedom should not be the sentimental appendix to American strategy. It is part of the strategy. And it points to the weakness of the Trump-Xi grand deal: It is highly personalized. Particularly on the American side, it is difficult to imagine this arrangement emerging so rapidly and dramatically under another president.

 

But Trump and Xi will eventually leave the stage. What survives them?

 

Realism is indispensable. America should recognize Chinese power, negotiate where interests overlap, deter where they conflict, and avoid turning every disagreement into an ideological crusade. But realism works until it does not. Leaders change. Interests change. Relative power changes. Miscalculations happen. America therefore needs something beneath realism, not instead of it, but underneath it.

 

American democracy itself is unquestionably troubled. The information revolution has amplified polarization, rewarded outrage, fragmented the public sphere, and weakened institutional trust. AI may intensify these problems. No serious defender of democracy should pretend otherwise.

 

But the answer to malfunctioning democracy is not less constitutionalism. It is better constitutionalism. This is where a third acronym belongs beside MAGA and MCGA: MADGA — Make American Democracy Great Again.

 

I do not mean another crusade to remake China in America’s image. MADGA means something more conservative: repairing and preserving the constitutional inheritance that made American power possible, independent courts, a free press, political competition, peaceful transfers of power, federalism, private enterprise, protection for dissent, and the capacity to discover mistakes and correct them.

 

Authoritarian systems can move faster because they suppress friction. Democracies often appear disorderly because they institutionalize it. But friction is not necessarily weakness. In engineering, friction prevents machines from spinning out of control. In politics, constitutional friction can prevent a powerful country from making an enormous mistake that nobody is permitted to identify.

 

That becomes more important in the age of AI. A superintelligent authoritarian state may become extraordinarily efficient. It may also become extraordinarily efficient at being wrong.

 

America’s advantage should therefore not consist merely of better chips, larger data centers, stronger armies, or more capable AI. It should include a system in which enormous power remains subject to law, competing institutions, independent scrutiny, and citizens who retain the right to say no.

 

That is not idealism. It is national strategy. MAGA and MCGA may coexist for a time. The realist G-2 Trump and Xi are constructing may even help prevent two nuclear superpowers from stumbling into catastrophe. But America should enter it knowing what it seeks to preserve.

 

Something happened during Xi’s visit that was much smaller than a G-2 summit and, in another sense, much larger. A president tried to exclude journalists he despised. Other journalists stood with them. They went to court. A judge appointed by that president ruled against him. And the journalists walked back through the White House gates. Xi may regard that as evidence of American disorder. Americans should recognize it as evidence of American strength.

 

Trump and Xi may be right that MAGA and MCGA need not lead to war. But America should add one condition to its grand bargain, a condition imposed not on China, but on itself: In competing with China, America must remain America. MAGA needs to be committed to the democratic ideals that are at the core of what the country is all about.

Monday, September 21, 2026

The Politics of Depopulation

By Joel Kotkin

Monday, September 21, 2026

 

The land of la familia is now a land of gli anziani or, less politely, i vecchi, the most elderly society in an aging continent. In the land of la dolce vita, Italians seem to be having less of it, with some of the lowest birth rates among major European capitals. Half the population is now over 48 and a quarter over 65.

 

By 2100, it is projected that the country could have more 80-year-olds than children under five. The country’s population has fallen by 1.5 million since 2015.

 

Everywhere you walk in Rome and other Italian cities, you see people in their 80s and 90s struggling with hills and broken pavements. This has created a crisis of sorts, with some independent groups, acting in guerilla fashion, performing repairs that the Italian state is unable to perform. In one case a pensioner who filled a pothole received a stiff fine for daring to address a severe danger to seniors.

 

Creaking streets and broken ankles are just symptoms of a greater challenge. Due to a lack of children, Italian schools are, as one observer put it, “vanishing like glaciers.” Many historic small towns are depopulating. Increasingly, resources are poured into care for the elderly while many young Italians seem reluctant to enter the workforce, leaving the workplace to recent immigrants.

 

The Italian workforce is expected to contract by 20 percent over the next 25 years. GDP growth is among the slowest in the world. Companies large and small, most notably in the still-vibrant artisanal industries, complain that they cannot find Italian workers. This is made worse by Italy’s low level of female participation in the workforce, including in executive positions.

 

“Italy is going backwards,” suggests economist Veronika de Romanis, author of the recently published Economy of Fear. Italy, she notes, “is a nation of tribes” that protects its own but creates few new opportunities for young people and families.

 

The Specter of Depopulation

 

Italy’s dilemma repudiates the hugely influential Population Bomb written a half century ago by the late Paul Ehrlich. Rather than bursting at the seams, we are experiencing a demographic implosion that will shape our political and economic life for decades to come. Roughly two-thirds of countries experience fertility rates below 2.1, the level needed to replace the current population.

 

Even India, with the world’s largest population, is experiencing a dramatic decline in its birth rate. In the Islamic world, both Iran, a supposed center of religious fervor, and Turkey, another quasi-Islamist stronghold, now have fertility rates similar to that of the U.S.

 

University of Pennsylvania economist Jesús Fernández-Villaverde estimates, rather than the U.N.’s assumed peak global population of 10.4 billion in 2084, humanity will peak at 9.2 billion in 2060. Generally, U.N.-projected fertility rates have been far higher than what actually occurred. In the next quarter century, estimates the IMF, China’s population will drop by 155.8 million, Japan 18 million, Russia 7.9 million, Ukraine 7 million, South Korea 6.5 million, and Italy 7.3 million .

 

China, with among the world’s lowest fertility rates — near 1.0 — blames foreign influences, but policies imposed by the communist regime are much to blame, notably the now-abandoned one-child policy and a commitment to high-density living, which tends to discourage family formation. Certainly, a recently enacted tax on condoms has not boosted fertility rates, nor has Comrade Xi’s typical propaganda onslaught promoting “a trend towards family.”

 

Shanghai, Beijing, and Guangzhou suffer among the world’s lowest fertility rates, even lower than places like New York, San Francisco, and Los Angeles. A culture once renowned for familialism is no longer so, as evidenced by the popular new app called “Are You Dead?” — a way to check up on the elderly, now living and dying in isolation. It’s a boom market now that the Middle Kingdom experiences three deaths for every two births. The situation is so extreme that the state is being forced to bribe people with cash to have children.

 

Europe is similarly challenged. The EU’s population by 2100 is projected to fall from 443 million to just under 400 million. The U.S., although not depopulating, has seen its fertility rate at record lows, roughly half the 1965 level. As recently as a decade ago, most demographers predicted 400 million Americans by 2050; likely we will not get close to that. The fertility rate among women between ages 20 and 29 is down 38 percent in the past 18 years. Two-thirds of American counties already have more deaths than births.

 

A smaller population, suggests the British author Fred Pearce, could offer some relief for the natural environment, perhaps lessening the need for draconian measures that would impoverish more people. But many of the effects are threatening. Low fertility rates may boost dependence on the welfare state, particularly as informal networks — children, grandchildren, extended families, churches, and community organizations — weaken. The iPhone and other distractions may be great products of technology, but they “[atrophy] our social muscle,” as Robert Green puts it.

 

It’s also a potential fiscal nightmare. In high-income countries, notes McKinsey, the ratio is already 3.9 workers per person over 65, down from 6.8 in 1997. By 2050, the worst dependency ratios will be found in Western Europe, led by Italy and France, as well as in East Asian countries such as South Korea, where over 4,000 schools have been closed.

 

Is Mass Immigration the Answer?

 

Many see the solution as mass immigration. The National Immigration Forum suggest the U.S. needs a 37 percent jump in migration over 2020 levels “to prevent the US from falling into demographic and socioeconomic decline.” A 2024 analysis by the Penn Wharton Budget Model claims the current worker-retiree level necessitates an annual immigration rate 3.5 times higher than today’s. In Europe, the European Bank of Reconstruction and Development insists on a need to boost immigration to maintain the labor force.

 

Many countries are unlikely to open their doors to mass immigration. This is particularly true in East Asia, where homogeneity is greatly honored and immigration strictly limited, even in worker-short Japan. Poorer countries such as South Africa, Turkey, Pakistan, Uganda, Egypt, Kenya, and Ethiopia also resist adding new people because of their already high unemployment.

 

In contrast, left-leaning elites in Europe, Oceania, and North America see mass immigration as the way to address our much-feared “demographic winter.” Some advocates also see a virtue in boosting racial diversity and, particularly on the left, a way to shift the political dynamic in their favor. Business, for its part, embraces migration as a wayto address a shortage of workers and keep wages down, including among the undocumented.

 

Or Maybe Not?

 

There are clear, and compelling, reasons to not fully embrace this conventional wisdom. Europe’s foreign-born population, now at a record of over 64 million, has not turned out to be a salve for its sluggish economy. Many countries with the highest per capita rates of immigration — the U.K., Canada, Germany, and France — also suffer from stagnant economies.

 

In 2023, Canada, with 40 million residents, received 1 million immigrants. It also suffered the slowest economic growth rates among advanced countries while its once-high standard of living continued to decline. In Canada, one in five recent immigrants now suffers “deep poverty” — an income below 75 percent of the poverty line — compared to only 5 percent of the whole population.

 

In Europe, newcomers also are far more dependent on welfare transfers than are natives. Spain recently legalized at least 500,000 migrants, whose rate of poverty stands at roughly three times that of the native population. Even in the United States, the immigrant share of the U.S. population living in poverty since 1993 has nearlydoubled to almost one in four; among the undocumented, nearly 30 percent now live in abject poverty. Among Minnesota’s Somali immigrants, welfare use is four times that of native-born families.

 

Rather than supercharging the economy — despite claims that deportations are “sabotaging” commerce — most recent immigrants, according to the Congressional Budget Office, now compete with other poor people for living space, jobs, and social services. Although this effect is far from universal, wages in some industries employing the undocumented, notably construction and food manufacturing, have risen as deportations took effect.

 

To these economic concerns one has to add the disruptive impact. Recently, migrants to Europe have been disproportionately involved in crime. According to the World Prison Brief, foreign nationals made up 24.4 percent of France’s prison population in 2025 despite accounting for roughly 7–8 percent of the population. The International Network for Immigration Research found foreign nationals accounted for about 17 percent of France’s criminal suspects — more than double their share of the population — with rates rising to four to five times their share for vehicle theft, burglary, and unarmed robbery.

 

Much the same is evident in Catalonia where, according to government statistics, foreigners accounted for 84.3 percent of arrests for theft in 2025, 73 percent for violent robbery, and 60 percent for sexual assault. In Italy, according to the Ministry of Justice, foreign citizens account for nearly one-third of all prison inmates, despite representing around one-tenth of the resident population.

 

Designed to reinvigorate aging societies, mass immigration is reshaping Europe in ways many natives deplore. The seemingly inexorable tide of migration threatens national identity, undermining principles of free speech and respect for traditions, creating what Marilynne Robinson describes as “a cerebral whiteout.” The European Union as well as the governments of France, Sweden, Denmark, Germany, and Italy have pledged to crack down on migration.

 

This is recasting politics across the West. Uncontrolled mass immigration under the Biden administration helped Donald Trump win his last presidential election. Support for deportation of criminal aliens, and all the undocumented, has risen even among Democrats. Such sentiments did much to elect Giorgia Meloni in Italy and could bring Marine Le Pen, Nigel Farage, or someone from Germany’s AFD to power.

 

Do We Still Need Masses of Immigrants?

 

To maintain their workforce, renew their culture and pay their bills, the U.S. and other countries still need to keep some considerable amount of immigration. Right now, the U.S. suffers shortages of skilled manufacturing workers, providers of medical services, and workers in some technical jobs. But even this could change. The rise of artificial intelligence may reduce demand for software writers from India; tech companies have cut some 240,000 jobs since 2004.

 

Demand for low-end jobs may also diminish. Jobs requiring extensive manual labor dropped to 22 percent of all jobs in 2025, from 35 percent 50 years ago.

 

The rapid development of robots will likely hit all sorts of low-end jobs, from fast-food preparation and package-handling to bed-making, elderly care, and toilet-cleaning. Even the ranks of drivers — one in five is foreign-born — will be culled by the rise of autonomous vehicles.

 

Remaining low-wage immigrant workers, about 4 percent of the labor force, could benefit from a better regulated reboot of the old U.S. Bracero Program, allowing foreign laborers to do specific jobs without having them bring their families. Even Trump has been forced to acknowledge that in fields such as agriculture and hospitality, immigrants, including the undocumented, may be difficult to replace, at least in the near future.

 

Needed: A Focus on the Native-Born

 

The domestic working class seems an obvious if unintended victim of mass migration. Since many of the newcomers are poor and ill-educated, their presence in the workforce tends to retard wage growth at the lower ranks, noted a recent congressional study. But even in high-skilled professions, companies import workers at the exclusion of Americans. This approach is widely promoted by immigration lawyers and tech and other U.S. firms, even if it works against the native-born STEM workers now suffering increasingly high unemployment rates.

 

Rather than looking abroad for salvation, Western countries might prioritize getting their disengaged workforce back toward employment. Today an estimated one-third of American working-age males are neither in school nor working, the highest percentage in a half century. In Europe, in the U.K., and in Canada, as much as one-quarter to one-third of the population under 30 is neither in school nor in a job.

 

Under such circumstances, blindly pushing for mass immigration seems absurd. Increasingly, young people never enter the labor pool, with record-low numbers taking summer jobs. Generation Z constitutes the most “disengaged” workforce across the advanced world.

 

A mismatch of native workers and jobs drives fertility rates even further down. Many are failing to launch, much less get married or have offspring. In the U.S., the percentage of people 18 to 34 living at home, notes Pew, is roughly one in three, but in Italy the percentage reaches over 70 percent.

 

Stefano Becucci, professor of sociology at the University of Florence, told me this lack of jobs affects many educated people, who would rather sit at home than take a job, for example, in the artisan economy. “People stay in school long, well into their thirties,” he observed over coffee at the school’s suburban campus. “They stay because it’s difficult to get a job in their field. You get a Ph.D. and expect a job that pays well. When they don’t get one, they stay home.”

 

Even East Asia, once the heartland of family-centered workaholics, is losing its workforce; thus Japan has witnessed the rise of “freeters,”permanent part-timers often living with their parents and more interested in traveling, playing video games, and the like. In China, many educated Millennials, faced with diminishing prospects, have abandoned striving in favor of “lying flat,” taking part-time work rather than seeking out a career and a family.

 

Turning the Old Into an Asset

 

Many economists and politicians treat the aging population as a giant liability. America, like the rest of the world, is older than it has ever been: The population aged 65 and older is projected to increase from 58 million in 2022 to 82 million by 2050 (a 42 percent increase). Seniors’ share of the total population is projected to rise from 17 percent to 23 percent .

 

The late former Nixon Secretary of Commerce Peter Peterson spent decades skewering retirees; in his polemic, Gray Dawn, he railed against their long retirement “in subsidized leisure.” Brookings more recently declared that the rise of an aging population “has no perceivable upsides.”

 

Yet in reality, seniors can be seen as an asset. Every year approximately 26.3 percent of U.S. seniors aged 65 and older — 15 to 16 million strong — volunteer for a wide array of charitable activities. Another 40 percent informally help friends and neighbors, particularly those with disabilities, with groceries and transportation. Altogether the Boomers — the vast majority of seniors — and the aging Xers account for the largest group of volunteers in charities, churches, and other service institutions. And an increasing number continue to work well into their seventies and beyond. Nearly onein five Americans aged 65 and older are currently working or looking for work, which is nearly double the participation rate seen a few decades ago, according to Investopedia.

 

You also can see their predominance, and desire for engagement, in almost any church, synagogue, or mosque, but also in many other forms of community service. Several times a week, a group of seniors, mostly female, gather at the Boys and Girls Club in San Juan Capistrano, a charming historic town on California’s southern coast. They do not play bingo but spend an hour with young children who need help with reading. Literacy is a gift cherished by these aging Boomers, while it has faded among following generations.

 

“We fill a gap for kids with problems with reading,” explains Janice Frenchette-Artinger, the executive director of the Parentis Foundation, which sends 200 seniors, mostly well into their 70s and 80s, to work with youngsters in Southern California. “Seniors want to be useful, and they can help even if it’s just feeding dogs. It’s a reason to be alive.”

 

Age does not necessarily mean decrepitude or dependence. Today’s elderly are far better-educated than in the past. In 1965 only 5 percent of seniors had college degrees; today that number is above 30 percent. They are also more self-sufficient; today roughly 14 percent of seniors are poor, compared with 30 percent in 1966. Not surprisingly, a growing percentage do not use nursing and other senior facilities, wanting instead to age in place.

 

Seniors “are reinventing old age,” Joseph Coughlin, director of MIT’s AgeLab, told the Wall Street Journal. They are living longer, and more capably, well into their 80s and beyond, notes a recent Yale study. Some become more functional, mentally and otherwise. Dementia rates are falling dramatically.

 

For decades, older workers embraced retirement as “the great national repository of delayed gratification,” author Mark Freedman notes. But in this decade, many Boomers are starting businesses, launching new firms at a 22 percent rate compared to 0.6 percent for the rest of the population. Bain estimates that worldwide, seniors will occupy 150 million jobs by 2030, providing up to a quarter of the workforce in some countries.

 

Yet some describe the seniors, as The Atlantic put it, as a corrupt gerontocracy that has “amassed disproportionate wealth and power.” The New York Times, nearly two-thirds of whose readers are over 50, ran a column called “Older Americans Are Hoarding America’s Potential,” penned by Samuel Moyn, a professor of law and history at Yale and author of Gerontocracy in America: How the Old Are Hoarding Power and Wealth — and What to Do About It. Moyn’s program embraces moves to confiscate the wealth of Boomers, all of whom are now over 60, and to hand it over to younger generations.

 

This resentment has roots in reality: In the U.S. at least, less than half of Millennials are doing better than their parents. A Deloitte study projects that Millennials (Americans born 1981 to 1996) will hold barely 16 percent of the nation’s wealth in 2030, when they will be the largest adult generation by far. By then, the preceding Generation X, born between 1965 and 1980, will hold 31 percent, while the even older boomers will still control 45 percent.

 

Over time, of course, many young people will benefit from inheriting the roughly $4.6 trillion in property — $2.4 trillion in the U.S. alone. But some on the socialist-minded left see seizing these assets, particularly those of the successful, sooner as an ideal way to power.

 

To be sure, not all seniors are doing well. Optimism about aging, notes Pew, tends to follow income and savings. Nearly 40 percent of U.S. retirees have insufficient savings, a trend made worse by inflation, and 20 percent have already burned through their savings. Longer lifespans will add to that pressure. Demand for more transfers to seniors could further intensify the generational conflict even as they require the assistance of children and grandchildren, if they have any.

 

There are better alternatives than confiscating Boomer wealth or bringing poverty back to working-class seniors. The generations need each other. More than two-thirds of grandparents are caregivers who usually work for free, often on a regular or even daily basis, providing over $700 billion for the economy by allowing parents to work or go to school. Emerging new technologies, notably autonomous vehicles, also offer the prospect of greater mobility.

 

Seniors could prove a potential bulwark against a shrinking labor force. Today, 23.2 percent of U.S. workers are older than 55, up 17.3 percent over the past decade, according to one analysis. Sadly, in some societies, largely in the European welfare states, working after 60 or 65 is discouraged. In places such as Spain and France, less than 10 percent of people between 65 and 70 are employed. They are missing an enormous opportunity to shore up a dwindling workforce.

 

Dealing Successfully with the New Demographics

 

Changes such as raising the retirement age could encourage people to work longer, reducing the need for mass migration and filling critical market niches. And productivity gains, as one MIT paper recently argued, might make up for a declining workforce, further enhanced by artificial intelligence. As we can see in some depopulating parts of the country, it may be possible to achieve what economist Paul Gottlieb calls “growth without growth.”

 

Under any reasonable scenario, slow population growth and increased aging seem inevitable. But rapid depopulation and generational war are not, although government may not be the best at providing solutions. State attempts in Italy to lower taxes on diapers and provide incentives for childbearing have barely moved the needle. Generous handouts to families have failed. “Markets,” notes demographer Nick Eberstadt, “cannot cure social pathologies.”

 

Ultimately the key lies in rekindling the familial values that have long buttressed society. A potential return to faith might help, whereas the decline in religious commitment, notably among Catholics, has had a devastating effect on fertility rates. Some religious subcultures, like the Amish, Mormons, and Orthodox Jews, enjoy far higher birth rates. Evangelicals, a far larger group, also demonstrate a slightly higher fertility rate.

 

“Culture is the only solution,” Sebastiano Mattefone, a leading Italian political theorist, told me outside his tree-lined Rome campus. Mexican immigrant kids, surrounded by a wide family network, experience appreciably fewer mental health problems than kids born here. Not everything boils down to money or efficiency. Religious values gaining some ground among the young could lift the current low fertility. It seems that some parents are getting the point: Remarkably, the time spent with kids is now twice what it was 50 years ago.

 

As the late Karl Zinsmeister notes in his last book, The Natural Family, the family is critical to the survival of civilization, a functioning economy, and a sense of purpose. The priority should be not to import our future wholesale, but nurture what G. K. Chesterton described as “the factory that manufactures mankind.” The demographic crisis calls most of all for a new humanism that relishes the creation of children, albeit in far smaller batches, prioritizes the concerns of our own working class, and taps the energies and wisdom of seniors. Demographics may well be destiny, but not necessarily a precursor to a bleak one.

Wednesday, September 9, 2026

Mao’s Longest Shadow

By Jianli Yang

Wednesday, September 09, 2026

 

Mao Zedong — who died 50 years ago today — spent roughly 28 years making a revolution and nearly 27 years ruling the country his revolution created. Yet Mao imagined his reach on an even grander scale, declaring in his youthful poetry: “Confident that my life would last 200 years.” He did not live 200 years. But his influence on China, and perhaps beyond it, may well do so.

 

The most obvious part of Mao’s legacy is written in blood and suffering. The political campaigns, executions, persecution of “class enemies,” the Anti-Rightist Movement, the Great Leap Forward, famine, and the Cultural Revolution destroyed tens of millions of lives and subjected hundreds of millions more to hunger, humiliation, fear, dispossession, and political degradation.

 

But Mao’s deepest damage to China may be harder to count. He poisoned its political culture. Mao did not merely teach generations of Chinese people what to believe. More consequentially, he taught them what kind of person prevails.

 

The lesson was simple: Life is struggle. Your opponent is not merely wrong; he is an enemy. Rules are useful when they serve you and dispensable when they do not. Cruelty is strength. Mercy toward an opponent is weakness. Loyalty matters more than competence. Repetition can manufacture truth. Mobilized anger can overwhelm institutions. And ultimately, winning vindicates everything. Mao was a master practitioner of this philosophy.

 

He understood that politics could be conducted not simply through institutions but through the manipulation of fear, resentment, humiliation, and loyalty. Again and again, people who had helped him defeat yesterday’s enemies became tomorrow’s enemies themselves. Allies became “rightists.” Revolutionary veterans became “capitalist roaders.” Intellectuals invited to speak became counter-revolutionaries. The categories changed. The essential rule did not: Mao decided who belonged to “the people” and who became “the enemy.”

 

Mao famously wrote that “a revolution is not a dinner party,” and that “political power grows out of the barrel of a gun.” His political vocabulary elevated douzheng — struggle — into something far larger than an occasional necessity; struggle became a way of understanding politics itself. Ideology mattered, but it was also extraordinarily adaptable in his hands. What remained constant was power. Yesterday’s orthodoxy could become today’s deviation. The standard was ultimately not consistency with doctrine, but consistency with Mao’s political requirements.

 

Mao always had the noblest words available to describe the ugliest acts. Everything was done “for the people.” Enemies were destroyed, property confiscated, and families torn apart, all for the people. If Mao embodied the people, his opponents opposed the people. If he alone could save the country, resistance to him became treason. Politics became a moral war between patriots and enemies, and hundreds of millions starved while policies were defended in the name of the people.

 

The Cultural Revolution was the purest expression of this logic. Mao encouraged people to “bombard the headquarters,” turned young people against teachers and parents, and transformed political accusation into a form of civic participation. The genius — and horror — of the system was that Mao could present himself simultaneously as the supreme authority and the leader of rebellion against authority, the establishment and the insurgent against it at once. Chaos therefore strengthened rather than weakened him. Institutions became suspect; personal loyalty became paramount. Expertise became elitism. Moderation became cowardice. Compromise became betrayal. Politics became theater, and the theater demanded ever more dramatic demonstrations of loyalty.

 

The Cultural Revolution eventually ended. The political psychology it cultivated did not. Nor was Mao’s corruption of political culture confined to Communist officials; it penetrated society at large. Inherited moral traditions, family obligations, and elementary standards of decency could all be denounced as remnants of the old society. Children were encouraged to expose parents, students to attack teachers, colleagues to inform on colleagues. Suspicion became prudence. Ruthlessness could masquerade as revolutionary virtue.

 

The damage outlived Maoism as an economic system. When China later embraced markets, an old political habit found a new arena: The principle that no means were too unscrupulous if they served the revolution mutated into the principle that no means were too unscrupulous if they served profit or personal advancement. Market economies did not create Maoism, and Maoism alone cannot explain China’s later corruption, but the moral inheritance mattered. A society repeatedly taught that rules, truth, and human relationships could be sacrificed to a higher objective was poorly prepared to build a culture of honesty.

 

This helps explain a bleak sentiment still heard often in China: that decency is naïveté, honesty a disadvantage, compassion a weakness, and only the ruthless and unscrupulous ultimately succeed. Mao did not invent these vices. His achievement was demonstrating, at enormous scale, that they could be converted into a philosophy of success.

 

A country can recover from bad economic policy more quickly than from that kind of moral injury. Deng Xiaoping tried to move China away from permanent revolution; economic development replaced class struggle, expertise returned, pragmatism acquired legitimacy. Yet China never completed the harder task: a moral reckoning with Maoism. Mao’s portrait remained over Tiananmen. His embalmed body remained at the symbolic center of the capital. The Party continued to derive its legitimacy from the revolution he led. That unfinished reckoning helps explain why Mao has returned so easily to Chinese politics.

 

Xi Jinping is not Mao Zedong, and today’s China is not Cultural Revolution China. Xi values order where Mao sometimes deliberately cultivated disorder, and contemporary China possesses a sophisticated economy and bureaucracy unimaginable in Mao’s time.

 

Yet there is a striking irony in Xi’s rehabilitation of Mao’s political authority. Few Chinese leaders of his generation had more personal reason to resent Mao. Xi’s father, Xi Zhongxun, a senior revolutionary official, was purged under Mao in 1962 and spent much of the following 16 years under detention and political disgrace; the persecution engulfed the family, and the younger Xi was eventually sent to the countryside during the Cultural Revolution. One might expect such a history to produce a leader determined to distance the Party from Mao. The opposite happened.

 

Compared with his immediate predecessors, Xi has restored Mao more fully to the center of the Party’s legitimacy, insisting on continuity between the Mao era and the post-Mao era rather than allowing the latter to become an implicit repudiation of the former. Independent investigation of the Cultural Revolution has faced tighter boundaries. This does not require us to imagine personal affection for the man responsible for his family’s suffering. There is a colder explanation.

 

Xi understands the political utility of Mao’s methods: the identification of enemies, the elevation of struggle, the demand for loyalty, the subordination of institutions to political leadership, the mobilization of nationalism, and the insistence that the Party represents a mission larger than ordinary rules. These remain extraordinarily effective instruments for concentrating authority and disciplining government and society. Xi does not need to reproduce Mao’s chaos to recognize the usefulness of Mao’s political logic, and he appears more prepared than his immediate predecessors to reach for those instruments when he judges circumstances require it.

 

This is why Xi has revived one of Mao’s most consequential concepts: struggle. Under Xi, “daring to struggle” has again become a celebrated political virtue, elevated in Party doctrine and applied to internal discipline, ideology, and China’s confrontation with perceived external adversaries.

 

More importantly, Xi shares something deeper with Mao: political ruthlessness combined with tactical flexibility. He can be intensely ideological about ultimate control while highly pragmatic about the means of preserving it. Markets may be encouraged or restrained; entrepreneurs celebrated or disciplined; nationalism, Marxism, tradition, and pragmatism all invoked as circumstances require. There is no contradiction so long as the ultimate objective remains constant: Power must not be contested.

 

In this sense, Mao’s most durable victory was not communism; China today bears little resemblance to the economic order he tried to create. His more durable victory was cultural. He helped normalize the idea that winning is the ultimate proof of being right. That poison reaches far beyond communist ideology; one does not have to be a communist to become a Maoist in political temperament.

 

China’s failure to fully confront Mao’s legacy matters, because a society cannot achieve political civilization merely by becoming richer. China has skyscrapers, high-speed trains, artificial intelligence, and spacecraft, yet its political vocabulary can still return effortlessly to struggle, enemies, loyalty, and ideological purification. And political culture does not stop at the walls of government buildings. Once a society rewards humiliation over persuasion, cunning over honesty, tribal loyalty over truth, and victory over rules, those habits migrate outward, shaping families, workplaces, and the way ordinary citizens see one another. Political barbarism can become social barbarism — one reason China’s path toward democracy has proved so difficult.

 

The anniversary of Mao’s death should not be an occasion for Chinese reflection alone. Imagine what happens when this political poison enters a democratic society: Opponents become enemies, each side regards the other’s victory as illegitimate, truth becomes tribal, restraint is ridiculed as weakness, and institutions are respected only when they deliver the desired result. Citizens no longer merely disagree about how to govern the same country; they begin to doubt whether they still belong to the same one. The immediate result is social fracture. The eventual casualties are democracy and the rule of law; no constitution permanently immunizes a society against the seductions of cruelty, lies, tribal loyalty, and the worship of power.

 

China offers a stark warning about what a single political leader can do to a nation’s political culture, and how long the habits he legitimizes can endure. Institutions matter enormously — constitutions, courts, elections, a free press. But no institution can indefinitely protect a political civilization whose citizens cease to value the norms that gave those institutions life.

 

The boundary between political civilization and political barbarism is thinner than prosperous, established societies like to imagine. On one side stand democracy, human rights, the rule of law, tolerance, restraint, and respect for human dignity. On the other stand the law of the jungle, the worship of winning, personal revenge, contempt for restraint, and the conviction that a lie repeated often enough becomes truth. The distance between these two worlds can sometimes be no thicker than a sheet of paper.

 

The 50th anniversary of Mao’s death should remind all who cherish political civilization that its greatest defenses are not only constitutional. Democracy, human rights, the rule of law, tolerance, and respect for truth survive only when leaders and citizens alike continue to regard them not as impediments to winning, but as limits on what winning is allowed to mean.