Latest news with #Mongol
Yahoo
20-05-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
Trump Says Birthright Citizenship Is Only 'About the Babies of Slaves.' Historical Evidence Says Otherwise.
During the recent oral arguments in Trump v. Casa, Solicitor General John Sauer repeatedly defended President Donald Trump's executive order stripping birthright citizenship from millions of U.S.-born children on the grounds that the 14th Amendment "extended citizenship to the children of former slaves, not to people who are unlawfully or temporarily present in the United States." Unfortunately for Sauer and his boss, the historical evidence tells a different story. On May 30, 1866, the U.S. Senate kicked off its debate on the Citizenship Clause of the proposed 14th Amendment, which says, "All persons born or naturalized in the United States, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the State wherein they reside." The first opponent to speak was Sen. Edgar Cowan (R–Penn.), who objected to the 14th Amendment on the grounds that it would bestow U.S. citizenship on the children of unpopular immigrants. "Is it proposed that the people of California are to remain quiescent while they are overrun by a flood of immigration of the Mongol race?" Cowan demanded. "Are they to be immigrated out of house and home by Chinese?" Cowan also worried about the presence of "Gypsies" in Pennsylvania. "They wander in gangs in my State," he declared. "These people live in the country and are born in the country. They infest society." Are their children also to be granted birthright citizenship by the language of the amendment? "If the mere fact of being born in the country confers that right," Cowan complained, "then they will have it; and I think it will be mischievous." Sen. John Conness (R–Calif.) then rose to speak in response to Cowan. "I beg my honorable friend from Pennsylvania to give himself no further trouble on account of the Chinese in California or on the Pacific coast," he said. "We are entirely ready to accept the provision proposed in this constitutional amendment, that the children born here of Mongolian parents shall be declared by the Constitution of the United States to be entitled to civil rights and to equal protection before the law with others." Note that Cowan and Conness both agreed on the meaning of birthright citizenship. They only disagreed about whether or not that meaning would produce a welcome result. And note also that their shared original understanding runs counter to the position now advanced by the Trump administration. In that same 1866 speech, Conness also pointed out that he had already joined a majority of Congress in voting for birthright citizenship once before. "The proposition before us," he said, "relates simply in that respect to the children begotten of Chinese parents in California, and it is proposed to declare that they shall be citizens. We have declared that by law; now it is proposed to incorporate the same provision in the fundamental instrument of the nation." Conness was referring here to the Civil Rights Act of 1866, which Congress had passed in April over the veto of President Andrew Johnson. Why did Johnson veto it? Among "the provisions I cannot approve," Johnson wrote, was the first section of the law, in which "all persons born in the United States and not subject to any foreign power, excluding Indians not taxed, are declared to be citizens of the United States." It was bad enough, according to Johnson, that this statutory guarantee of birthright citizenship would make citizens "out of the entire race designated as blacks." In his view, "four million of them have just emerged from slavery to freedom. Can it be reasonably supposed that they possess the requisite qualifications to entitle them to all the privileges and immunities of citizens of the United States?" But Johnson also objected to the fact that the Civil Rights Act would make citizens out of the children of "the Chinese of the Pacific States, Indians subject to taxation, [and] the people called Gipsies." Just like Cowan and Conness, Johnson also understood that birthright citizenship would apply to the U.S.-born children of unpopular immigrants. Trump may think that birthright citizenship is only "about the babies of slaves." But as these statements from the 1866 debates make clear, the historical evidence proves him wrong. The post Trump Says Birthright Citizenship Is Only 'About the Babies of Slaves.' Historical Evidence Says Otherwise. appeared first on
National Business Review
17-05-2025
- Business
- National Business Review
Huawei's curse: Success brings security backlash
When the Mongol Emperor Kublai Khan absorbed southern China's Song Empire in 1279, it was already the world's workshop. It was the largest supplier of valuable ceramics, silks, jewellery, and other manufactured goods. Nearly eight centuries later, nothing has changed. Southern China churns out a phenomenal amount of goods that everyone in the world demands. That includes most toys, appliances, and electronics, as well as cheap textiles. It has steadily climbed to the pinnacle of industrialisation with robots and rockets, motor vehicles, high-tech machinery, commercial aircraft, and leadership in solar energy and battery power. Throughout its existence, China has exploited its recipe of low-cost labour, innovative manufacturing, and ruthless efficiency. This is now complemented by the totalitarian power of the Chinese Communist Party. The French newspaper Le Monde – which often goes where its English-language equivalents won't – recently visited the headquarters of Shein in Guangzhou. Launched just a decade ago, Shein has become one of the largest global clothing giants without even targeting the Chinese market. According to Le Monde, it inhabits neighbourhoods that operate in sync with the production of about one million garments, shipped in small parcels, that the fast fashion site can sell each day. One of Shein's many premises in Guangzhou, China. Cheaper places Unlike Zara and H&M, Shein has resisted the temptation to outsource its manufacturing to even cheaper places such as Bangladesh or Cambodia. It considers that Chinese productivity alone can keep up with the sector's formidable business pace. "Here, the efficiency is double compared to Southeast Asia," a spokesman boasted. "China produces the raw materials, and we offer the models. Around Guangzhou, hundreds of thousands of people work in this sector." Take the example of a 21-year-old worker. Her job is to fold clothes and put them into the brand's bags. Her days start at 8am, she gets a lunch break from noon to 1pm, another from 6pm to 7pm for dinner, then goes back to work for three hours in the evening, until 10 pm. That makes for a 12-hour day. In some workshops, they work six days a week. Her earnings are between 6000 and 7000 yuan a month, equivalent to $1420 to $1660. Shein's success is emulated by dozens of other Chinese enterprises honed by efficient manufacturing. One of them is Huawei, the subject of House of Huawei, by Eva Dou. The book is subtitled 'The secret history of China's most powerful company'. American-born Dou is a reporter for the Washington Post and has tracked Huawei's transformation from a provider of telecommunications infrastructure into the corporate world's major threat to United States security. This is because of the fear that its equipment – at its simplest, just 'pipes' through which data moves – could be 'back doors' for more nefarious purposes. Eva Dou speaking at the Overseas Press Club of America in 2019. Workshop networks Unlike the large-scale, state-owned Soviet model of industrialisation, China has always had a grass-roots network of workshops. Mao harnessed it in 1958 when he launched the Great Leap Forward with steelmaking in every village. In the Soviet Union, Stalin financed industry at the expense of agriculture. Mao reversed that by putting the onus of industrialisation on the peasants. Foreign capital and expertise weren't required. As Mao put it: 'The humble are the cleverest, and the privileged are the dumbest.' It produced some crazy outcomes, such as wooden cars and locomotives. It was also hugely wasteful, with houses being torn apart for building materials to achieve mechanisation. Mao's obsession was steel (the meaning of 'Stalin' in Russian) and he measured the country's success by how much could be produced. A backyard furnace in Mao's Great Leap Forward. The campaign was a disaster in both human and economic terms. Much of the production was slag iron due to poor fuel for the kilns. Agricultural production suffered, leading to the Great Famine. It cost 45 million lives over the four years to 1962. Four years later, newly graduated Ren Zhengei arrived in Guizhou Province in southwestern China. His job was to help build a fighter jet in a plant that could be hidden among the area's picturesque hills and caves, but he would eventually end up as Huawei's CEO. The Vietnam War was raging not far to the south, and Base 011 comprised dozens of factories spread over half a square kilometre to avoid detection. Ren, who had studied engineering, was first put to work as a cook. This was part of the re-education of 'intellectuals' during the Cultural Revolution. Frontier site Ren studied electronics in his spare time, and by 1974 was qualified enough to be posted to the Xi'an Instruments Factory in the northern Shaanxi Province, followed by a further move to a frontier site near the border with North Korea. Here, while serving in the military, he became involved in China's first attempts to manufacture nylon and polyester. The technology was provided by a French company, and Ren was soon absorbed in creating precision instruments. Shenzhen in 1980 when the Ren family arrived. The death of Mao in 1976 ushered in a new era of modernisation. Ren and his wife, Meng Jun, a former Red Guard, moved to Shenzhen, where they worked for the Southern Oil Group. Ren's 11 years in the military and membership of the CCP cemented the couple's elite status. Shenzhen was to become the catalyst for China's export boom from the 1980s, with Huawei Technology being formed in 1987. From a modest contract manufacturer of telephone switches, Huawei became one of the world's largest telecommunications companies. An emphasis on research and development, and tapping top talent from partnerships with China's top universities, enabled the charismatic Ren to seize the opportunities of globalisation when the internet and the digital economy took off. But that growth came at a cost. 'With Huawei increasingly integrated into global networks, it was being watched closely by spy agencies,' Duo notes. The National Security Agency (NSA) infiltrated Huawei and used its surveillance infrastructure to spy on the company, as well as other public and private entities, both in China and around the world. Huawei's US spokesperson, William Plummer, was able to observe: 'The irony is that exactly what they are doing to us is what they have always charged that the Chinese are doing through us.' Dou adds that it was no wonder Washington was so confident that Beijing could use Huawei's gear for snooping: "The NSA had been doing that for years.' Ren Zhengei outflanked his Western competitors. Lucrative deals It's suggested these concerns were partly due to Huawei's ability to outflank its Western rivals, such as Alcatel, Ericsson, Lucent, and Nortel. In 2005, the privatised British carrier BT awarded its 5G upgrade contract to Huawei, opening the doors to other lucrative deals. By 2012, Huawei had become the largest company in its field and had expanded into smartphones and other branded electronic gadgets. It even started a music streaming business. But this success added to outside pressure. A deal to buy US company 3Com fell through in 2008 (the companies had formed a joint venture in 2003). India was among several countries that followed US advice to veto some contracts. Japan's Softbank was forced to sever its ties with Huawei so a takeover of Sprint Nextel could proceed. Huawei chief financial controller Meng Wanzhou. Huawei hit world headlines on December 1, 2018, when its chief financial controller, Ren's daughter Meng Wanzhou, was arrested in Vancouver under an extradition order from the US. Nearly three years later, she was released from house arrest and returned to China. Two Canadians, both called Michael and unrelated to Huawei, were held as hostages until the matter was resolved. Huawei continues to face bans and restrictions in multiple countries due to security concerns. Recently, Germany proposed a ban on Huawei and ZTE equipment, requiring telecom companies to remove their hardware from core networks by 2026. The European Union has also urged its member states to block Huawei from their 5G infrastructure. In the US, lawmakers have pushed for sanctions on Huawei's cloud unit, citing potential security threats. Despite these setbacks, Duo wrote in 2024: 'Yet – almost incredibly – Huawei was still number one in the world in 5G gear sales.' Its corporate status remains opaque as a 'collectively owned enterprise', which acknowledges its role as a company crucial to China's overall development. Dou admires its ability to 'accomplish titanic tasks at almost impossible speeds' through methods exemplified by Shein. The human cost is high, with stress-related illnesses a common complaint, along with suicides in extreme cases. Shenzhen, Duo concludes, offers a special environment for Chinese 'capitalism' that meshes the ruthless business practices of innovation and efficiency with the CCP's addiction to power in planning and control. House of Huawei: The secret history of China's most powerful company, by Eva Dou (Portfolio/Penguin Random House (US); Abacus/ Little, Brown (UK)). Nevil Gibson is a former editor-at-large for NBR. He has contributed film and book reviews to various publications. This is supplied content and not commissioned or paid for by NBR.
Jordan Times
06-05-2025
- Politics
- Jordan Times
Mission to the Mongols: How papal envoy failed to win over the Tatars
Ascelin of Lombardy receiving a letter from Innocent IV, and remitting it to the Mongol general Baiju (Photo courtesy of Paris, Bibliothèque de l'Arsenal) AMMAN — In the mid-13th century, a flurry of diplomatic efforts unfolded between the Papal State and the rising Tatar Empire, with Rome hoping to convert the Mongols to Christianity, while the Tatars sought recognition as a dominant world power. Among these early emissaries was Simon of Saint-Quentin, a Dominican friar who played a central role in a little-known but significant papal mission to the East. In 1245, Pope Innocent IV dispatched an embassy led by Dominican friar Ascelin of Lombardia, accompanied by Simon of Saint-Quentin, to the Mongol frontier. Their journey, which lasted over three years, would culminate not in alliance, but in diplomatic failure and near disaster. 'The embassy of Ascelin and Simon proceeded to the camp of Baiju at Sitiens in Armenia, lying between the Aras River and Lake Sevan, fifty-nine days' journey from Acre,' noted Canadian historian Stephan Pow, an expert on medieval missions to the East. Simon later compiled his observations in a now-fragmentary account titled History of the Tartars, preserved in the writings of fellow Dominican Vincent of Beauvais. Unlike the more complete History of the Mongols by Franciscan envoy John of Plano Carpini, Simon's work survives only in excerpts, offering scattered insights into a mission marked by cultural clashes and political missteps. Historical records suggest Ascelin's party departed Lyon in early spring 1245, carrying papal letters—Dei patrisimmensae and Cum non solum, urging the Mongols to embrace Christianity and refrain from further attacks on Christian territories. These letters were also delivered by the Franciscan Carpini to Mongol leaders Batu and Güyük Khan. According to Simon, Ascelin's journey spanned 'three years and seven months,' ending in late 1248. The party grew during the mission to include Dominicans Alexander and Albertus, while Simon himself joined in autumn 1246. They set out from Acre for Baiju's encampment in the Armenian highlands. Instead of the traditional overland route through Antioch and Aleppo, the friars opted for a detour via Cilicia and Anatolia, likely to avoid conflict zones in northern Syria. Their path led them through Kayseri, Sivas, and Ani to Tbilisi, where they were joined by Guichardus of Cremona, a friar familiar with Tatar customs. On May 24, 1247, the mission reached Baiju Noyan's headquarters near Sisian, in present-day southern Armenia. However, tensions quickly arose. The Dominicans refused to show deference to the Mongol commander, declining to kneel or recognize the authority of Güyük Khan. Their insistence on Christian supremacy further inflamed hostilities. Baiju reportedly considered executing the envoys, but was dissuaded by one of his advisers and his senior wife. The friars were detained for two months and only released after the arrival of Arghun Aqa, a newly appointed Mongol administrator in Georgia. Ultimately, the mission ended in failure. Ascelin refused to continue to the Mongol court, and the group returned westward with little to show for their efforts. Though overshadowed by more famous expeditions, the mission of Saint-Quentin and his companions reveals the complexities—and perils—of medieval diplomacy at the crossroads of empires.
India Gazette
02-05-2025
- Politics
- India Gazette
From the Mongols to NATO: Heres the real Russian doctrine
Moscows global playbook is shaped by history and focused on survival "Only crows fly straight," goes an old saying from the Vladimir-Suzdal region, where the revival of the Russian state began after the devastation of the Mongol invasion in the 13th century. Within 250 years, a powerful state emerged in Eastern Europe, its independence and decision-making unquestioned by others. From its earliest days, Russia's foreign policy culture has been shaped by a single goal: to preserve the nation's ability to determine its own future. The methods have varied, but a few constants remain: no fixed strategies, no binding ideologies, and an ability to surprise opponents. Unlike European or Asian powers, Russia never needed rigid doctrines; its vast, unpredictable geography - and its instinct for unorthodox solutions - made that unnecessary. Yet this distinctive foreign policy culture did not develop overnight. Before the mid-13th century, Russia's trajectory looked much like the rest of Eastern Europe's. Fragmented and inward-looking, its city-states had little reason to unify. Geography and climate kept them largely self-contained. It could have ended up like other Slavic nations, eventually dominated by German or Turkish powers. But then came what Nikolay Gogol called a "wonderful event": the 1237 Mongol invasion. Russia's strongest state centers were obliterated. This catastrophe, paradoxically, gave rise to two defining features of Russian statehood: a reason to unify and a deep-seated pragmatism. For 250 years, Russians paid tribute to the Golden Horde but were never its slaves. The relationship with the Horde was a constant struggle - clashes alternating with tactical cooperation. It was during this period that the "sharp sword of Moscow" was forged: a state that functioned as a military organization, always blending conflict and diplomacy. War and peace merged seamlessly, without the moral dilemmas that often paralyze others. These centuries also forged another trait of Russian thinking: the strength of the adversary is irrelevant to the legitimacy of its demands. Unlike the Western Hobbesian notion that might makes right, Russians have historically viewed force as just one factor - not the determinant of truth. A 16th-century song about a Crimean Khan's raid sums it up: he is called both a "tsar" for his military power and a "dog" for lacking justice. Similarly, after the Cold War, Russia recognized Western power - but not the righteousness of its actions. Demographics have always been a challenge, driven by climate and geography. Russia's population did not match that of France until the late 18th century, despite covering an area many times larger than Western Europe. And crucially, Russia has never relied on external allies. Its foreign policy rests on the understanding that no one else will solve its problems - a lesson learned through bitter experience. Yet Russia has always been a reliable ally to others. A pivotal moment came in the mid-15th century, when Grand Duke Vasily Vasilyevich settled Kazan princes on Russia's eastern borders. This marked the beginning of Russia's multi-ethnic statehood, where loyalty - not religion - was the key requirement. Unlike Western Europe, where the church dictated social order, Russia's statehood grew as a mosaic of ethnic and religious groups, all unified by a shared commitment to defense. This pragmatism - welcoming Christians, Muslims, and others alike - set Russia apart. Spain's rulers completed the Reconquista by expelling or forcibly converting Jews and Muslims; Russia integrated its minorities, allowing them to serve and prosper without renouncing their identities. Today, Russia's foreign policy still draws on these deep traditions. Its core priority remains the same: defending sovereignty and retaining freedom of choice in a volatile world. And true to form, Russia resists doctrinaire strategies. Fixed doctrines require fixed ideologies - something historically alien to Russia. Russia also rejects the idea of "eternal enemies." The Mongol Horde, once its deadliest foe, was absorbed within decades of its collapse. Its nobles merged with Russian aristocracy, its cities became Russian cities. No other country has fully absorbed such a formidable rival. Even Poland, a centuries-long adversary, was eventually diminished not by decisive battles but by sustained pressure. Victory for Russia has never been about glory - it's about achieving objectives. Often, this means exhausting adversaries rather than crushing them outright. The Mongols were defeated in 1480 without a single major battle. Similarly, Poland was gradually reduced in stature over centuries of relentless pressure. This mindset explains Russia's readiness to negotiate at every stage: politics always outweighs military concerns. Foreign and domestic policy are inseparable, and every foreign venture is also a bid to strengthen internal cohesion, just as the medieval princes of Moscow used external threats to unite the Russian lands. Today's geopolitical landscape is shifting again. The West - led by the United States - remains powerful, but no longer omnipotent. China is expanding its influence, though cautiously. Western Europe, historically Russia's main threat, is losing its relevance, unable to define a vision for its own future. Russia, the US and China all possess that vision - and in the coming decades, their triangular relationship will shape global politics. India may join this elite circle in time, but for now, it still lags behind. Does this mean Russia will pivot fully eastward? Unlikely. Classical geopolitics teaches that the main focus must remain where the primary threat lies. Western Europe may no longer be the center of global politics, but it remains the crucial frontier, the dividing line between Russia and American power. Still, the real opportunities lie in Eurasia. Peaceful, prosperous ties with eastern neighbors are essential for Russia's internal development. That, ultimately, is what will provide the resources for Russia's most cherished goal: the freedom to chart its own course. This article was first published by 'Expert' magazine and was translated and edited by the RT team. (
Russia Today
02-05-2025
- Politics
- Russia Today
From the Mongols to NATO: Here's the real Russian doctrine
'Only crows fly straight,' goes an old saying from the Vladimir-Suzdal region, where the revival of the Russian state began after the devastation of the Mongol invasion in the 13th century. Within 250 years, a powerful state emerged in Eastern Europe, its independence and decision-making unquestioned by others. From its earliest days, Russia's foreign policy culture has been shaped by a single goal: to preserve the nation's ability to determine its own future. The methods have varied, but a few constants remain: no fixed strategies, no binding ideologies, and an ability to surprise opponents. Unlike European or Asian powers, Russia never needed rigid doctrines; its vast, unpredictable geography – and its instinct for unorthodox solutions – made that unnecessary. Yet this distinctive foreign policy culture did not develop overnight. Before the mid-13th century, Russia's trajectory looked much like the rest of Eastern Europe's. Fragmented and inward-looking, its city-states had little reason to unify. Geography and climate kept them largely self-contained. It could have ended up like other Slavic nations, eventually dominated by German or Turkish powers. But then came what Nikolay Gogol called a 'wonderful event': the 1237 Mongol invasion. Russia's strongest state centers were obliterated. This catastrophe, paradoxically, gave rise to two defining features of Russian statehood: a reason to unify and a deep-seated pragmatism. For 250 years, Russians paid tribute to the Golden Horde but were never its slaves. The relationship with the Horde was a constant struggle – clashes alternating with tactical cooperation. It was during this period that the 'sharp sword of Moscow' was forged: a state that functioned as a military organization, always blending conflict and diplomacy. War and peace merged seamlessly, without the moral dilemmas that often paralyze others. These centuries also forged another trait of Russian thinking: the strength of the adversary is irrelevant to the legitimacy of its demands. Unlike the Western Hobbesian notion that might makes right, Russians have historically viewed force as just one factor – not the determinant of truth. A 16th-century song about a Crimean Khan's raid sums it up: he is called both a 'tsar' for his military power and a 'dog' for lacking justice. Similarly, after the Cold War, Russia recognized Western power – but not the righteousness of its actions. Demographics have always been a challenge, driven by climate and geography. Russia's population did not match that of France until the late 18th century, despite covering an area many times larger than Western Europe. And crucially, Russia has never relied on external allies. Its foreign policy rests on the understanding that no one else will solve its problems – a lesson learned through bitter experience. Yet Russia has always been a reliable ally to others. A pivotal moment came in the mid-15th century, when Grand Duke Vasily Vasilyevich settled Kazan princes on Russia's eastern borders. This marked the beginning of Russia's multi-ethnic statehood, where loyalty – not religion – was the key requirement. Unlike Western Europe, where the church dictated social order, Russia's statehood grew as a mosaic of ethnic and religious groups, all unified by a shared commitment to defense. This pragmatism – welcoming Christians, Muslims, and others alike – set Russia apart. Spain's rulers completed the Reconquista by expelling or forcibly converting Jews and Muslims; Russia integrated its minorities, allowing them to serve and prosper without renouncing their identities. Today, Russia's foreign policy still draws on these deep traditions. Its core priority remains the same: defending sovereignty and retaining freedom of choice in a volatile world. And true to form, Russia resists doctrinaire strategies. Fixed doctrines require fixed ideologies – something historically alien to Russia. Russia also rejects the idea of 'eternal enemies.' The Mongol Horde, once its deadliest foe, was absorbed within decades of its collapse. Its nobles merged with Russian aristocracy, its cities became Russian cities. No other country has fully absorbed such a formidable rival. Even Poland, a centuries-long adversary, was eventually diminished not by decisive battles but by sustained pressure. Victory for Russia has never been about glory – it's about achieving objectives. Often, this means exhausting adversaries rather than crushing them outright. The Mongols were defeated in 1480 without a single major battle. Similarly, Poland was gradually reduced in stature over centuries of relentless pressure. This mindset explains Russia's readiness to negotiate at every stage: politics always outweighs military concerns. Foreign and domestic policy are inseparable, and every foreign venture is also a bid to strengthen internal cohesion, just as the medieval princes of Moscow used external threats to unite the Russian lands. Today's geopolitical landscape is shifting again. The West – led by the United States – remains powerful, but no longer omnipotent. China is expanding its influence, though cautiously. Western Europe, historically Russia's main threat, is losing its relevance, unable to define a vision for its own future. Russia, the US and China all possess that vision – and in the coming decades, their triangular relationship will shape global politics. India may join this elite circle in time, but for now, it still lags behind. Does this mean Russia will pivot fully eastward? Unlikely. Classical geopolitics teaches that the main focus must remain where the primary threat lies. Western Europe may no longer be the center of global politics, but it remains the crucial frontier, the dividing line between Russia and American power. Still, the real opportunities lie in Eurasia. Peaceful, prosperous ties with eastern neighbors are essential for Russia's internal development. That, ultimately, is what will provide the resources for Russia's most cherished goal: the freedom to chart its own article was first published by 'Expert' magazine and was translated and edited by the RT team.
