China

The US-led expansion of NATO in the direction of the Russian border took place when America was at the peak of its power — the "unipolar moment" — and when Russia had hit geostrategic rock-bottom. The global balance of power has changed since then, and that helps explain what is happening now. Vladimir Putin is correct when he argues that, since the collapse of the Soviet Union, the United States and its Western allies have taken advantage of Russian weakness. It may sound simplistic, but back then in the immediate aftermath of the Cold War, American policymakers did a lot of things just because, well, they could do them. And then they created geostrategic narratives to justify what they wanted to do.

While the world is captivated by all things Omicron and Russia, North Korea is once again back on the world stage. And that can only mean one thing: bigger and badder missile tests. None of this should come as a surprise. North Korea’s leader, Kim Jong-un, has announced to the world on numerous occasions that he will continue to test such weapons, even as his nation suffers from a “food problem.” Kim, his father, and his grandfather have been marching towards a fully viable nuclear deterrent for decades now. What is new is that Kim has declared that he will not abide by the promise he made to not test certain weapons platforms that directly threaten the US homeland — what drove the near-nuclear showdown with President Donald Trump back in 2017.

The growing alliance between Russia and China is something we shouldn’t lose sleep over, their long history of mutual suspicion runs too deep – or so we are told. Such a view is too complacent by half. China and Russia’s mutual hostility towards the West and their opportunism also run deep. And even if their burgeoning alliance is a marriage of convenience, it is still a very dangerous one. As Russia has massed more than 100,000 troops near the Ukrainian border, the nightmare for western strategists is that Vladimir Putin’s actions are being coordinated with those of Xi Jinping in and around the Taiwan Strait, where China’s military intimidation of Taiwan has reached new levels of intensity.

With just three weeks until the opening of the Winter Olympics in Beijing, Covid-19 is creeping ever closer to the capital. The Communist party is seeking to isolate Beijing from the rest of the country to keep the virus at bay and the games on track. But its zero-Covid policy, a desperate game of Whac-A-Mole with the virus, is looking increasingly unsustainable. All routes between Beijing and Tianjin have been closed after an outbreak in the port city, which is adjacent to the capital. Flights and high-speed train services in and out of a city of 14 million people have been cancelled and highways closed after the discovery of 126 cases in recent days, all of them the highly contagious Omicron variant. A third round of mass testing has been ordered.

The Kazakh uprising is over. The stench of burnt-out vehicles and bombed out buildings in Kazakhstan’s most populous city and former capital, Almaty, has begun to dissipate. Life is returning to normal. Banks have reopened. Salaries and pensions are being paid. The internet is up and running again. Almaty airport is expected to reopen today. As the fog of war lifts some clarity about these events is beginning to emerge. Officials have reported that 100 businesses and banks were destroyed along with 400 vehicles. Seven policemen died and hundreds more were wounded; 8,000 people have been arrested. Some 164 civilians were killed. The government of President Kassym-Jomart Tokayev has survived and with some ease as it turns out.

I left China a decade ago when life there as a Uighur simply became too difficult. People know about the ongoing genocide of the Uighurs, but it didn’t come out of nowhere: it followed years of smaller scale persecution, which I experienced daily. I first grew aware of how bad things were in 2009, when I got a job in an inland city that required me to travel — a role that became impossible because hotels would refuse to let me stay. Receptionists would see my identity card, which bore my ethnicity, and curtly reply that there were no rooms available. Once, one smiled kindly and told me to wait in the lobby. Ten minutes later, the police arrived, whereupon she pointed at me and said: ‘That’s the Uighur, sitting there.

Twenty twenty-two is the year that Xi Jinping plans to seize power for life, but it is not going according to script. He is retreating further into his bunker – a self-isolation that is amplifying the Communist party’s arrogance and insecurities. Challenges are mounting at home and abroad, which will make for a bumpy year in China’s growing rivalry with the West. Xi’s most immediate problem is Covid-19, where he has backed himself into an increasingly untenable ‘zero tolerance’ cul-de-sac, just as most of the rest of the world is learning to live with the virus. Just before the new year, gun-toting police in the city of Jingxi paraded four people accused of breaching Covid control measures through the streets.