A New Player at Sundance, Backed by Laurene Powell Jobs

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The coming out party will feature teenagers from Texas, journalists from Manila and a woman in Louisiana who spent 21 years fighting to free her husband from prison.

Concordia Studio, a production company backed by the multibillionaire philanthropist Laurene Powell Jobs, will make its debut this week at the Sundance Film Festival, two years after Ms. Powell Jobs founded it with the Oscar-winning documentary filmmaker Davis Guggenheim.

Four of Concordia’s nonfiction films will be among the 16 shown as part of Sundance’s U.S. Documentary Competition, an auspicious start for a newcomer to the country’s pre-eminent festival for independent cinema.

Documentaries have always been an emphasis at Sundance, which starts on Thursday in Park City, Utah. But they have become hot properties in the age of streaming, with YouTube shelling out $20 million for a 10-part Justin Bieber documentary series and Apple spending $25 million for a film about the pop star Billie Eilish.

Nonfiction films that have nothing to do with celebrities can also score big, but with unpredictable story lines known to wreak havoc on production schedules, they can be tough to finance. Concordia is here to help, offering money, production services and expert advice to serious documentary filmmakers.

“If there is a nonfiction story that is purely cotton candy, we wouldn’t do it,” Mr. Guggenheim said at the Concordia office, which has been carved out of a former Volkswagen repair shop in Venice, Calif. At the same time, he added, the studio is looking for films “that will reach a broader audience.”

Mr. Guggenheim, who won an Oscar for the 2006 documentary “An Inconvenient Truth,” met Ms. Powell Jobs, the widow of the Apple co-founder Steven P. Jobs, a decade ago and worked with her on the 2013 film “The Dream Is Now,” a short-form documentary on immigration reform. Ms. Powell Jobs suggested that they continue working together under the auspices of her firm, Emerson Collective, which owns a majority stake in The Atlantic magazine and a significant minority share in Anonymous Content, a television, film and talent-management company.

While thinking about what a new studio might look like, Mr. Guggenheim sought inspiration in a book that has become a bible of sorts in Hollywood, “Creativity, Inc.,” by Ed Catmull, one of the founders of Pixar Animation Studios, and Amy Wallace, a journalist.

Mr. Guggenheim decided to hire executives from the trenches of nonfiction film to help producers and directors navigate the often chaotic process from hatching an idea to finding a distributor. The name Concordia, meaning harmony in Latin, is also a nod to Concord, Mass., the hometown of Ralph Waldo Emerson, who inspired the Emerson Collective name.

Jesse Moss and Amanda McBaine, the husband-and-wife duo behind “The Overnighters,” a documentary that won the Sundance Special Jury Prize for Intuitive Filmmaking in 2014, were at the top of the list of filmmakers Concordia wanted to work with. Their new film, “Boys State,” will have its premiere at Sundance Jan. 24.

The project began in early 2018, when Mr. Moss and Ms. McBaine sent a two-page treatment on their interest in chronicling the Texas branch of a nationwide summer program run by the American Legion in which roughly a thousand 17-year-olds gather to form a representative government.

The company provided the filmmakers with an initial investment and committed to the project after seeing early footage. Mr. Moss said the experience of working with Concordia was “radically different in every way” from what he was used to.

“Time,” another Concordia film that made Sundance’s documentary competition, focuses on an African-American woman who has spent 21 years trying to get her husband released from Angola prison in Louisiana. It was made by Garrett Bradley, a New York filmmaker who worked as a second unit director on Ava DuVernay’s Netflix series, “When They See Us.”

The other films in Concordia’s Sundance slate are “A Thousand Cuts,” which documents the attacks on the news media by President Rodrigo Duterte of the Philippines, and “Bloody Nose, Empty Pockets,” about the last days of a beloved Las Vegas dive bar.

“We are at a moment when cynicism and division are abundant, but we have seen that stories can bring people together,” Ms. Powell Jobs said by email. “Concordia is a belief that film has the power to shine a spotlight on the important narratives of life that too often are overlooked.”

The studio also has three documentary series in the works at Netflix. And Concordia can already call itself an Oscar nominee, after its short film, “Walk, Run, Cha Cha,” produced for The New York Times’s Op-Docs series, landed a spot in the short subject documentary category.

Concordia won’t limit itself to documentaries. This month, it started a division for scripted feature films led by Jonathan King, who spent 12 years at Participant Media creating popular movies that touched on social concerns. He said Concordia’s scripted movies are likely to address education, immigration, the environment and civil rights.

“Those are all things we care about and want to tell stories about,” Mr. King said. “But it’s never going to be an issue-driven slate. It will be filmmaker- and story-driven.”

Joe Berlinger, a veteran documentary filmmaker, said it was wise for any studio with “good storytelling chops” to expand into multiple genres because of the seemingly bottomless appetite for material at Netflix, Disney Plus and other streaming services.

“When I started in this business with 1992’s ‘Brother’s Keeper,’ if you didn’t sell your documentary to HBO or PBS, you weren’t selling your documentary,” Mr. Berlinger said by email.

Now, thanks in part to the demand brought on by the rise of streaming, he noted, A-list directors like Ron Howard and Martin Scorsese are making documentaries, and independent documentary filmmakers like himself have signed on to direct fictional feature films.

“Because of these blurred lines,” Mr. Berlinger said, “it makes total sense for a company like Concordia that is grounded in nonfiction to branch out into scripted content.”

While Concordia is not interested in fluff, it still hopes to make itself felt in the marketplace.

“We don’t think there is a limit,” Jonathan Silberberg, the president of the studio, said. “We would love to see a huge budgeted documentary get made and then destroy the box office worldwide.”

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The Story of China’s Economic Rise Unfolds in Switzerland

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SHANGHAI — Beijing’s alliance with the World Economic Forum started in 1979 with the arrival in Davos, Switzerland, of a small team of free-market economists led by a wizened Chinese intellectual, Qian Junrui, who had barely survived Mao’s Cultural Revolution. He had been imprisoned for eight years, tortured and repeatedly beaten unconscious.

China and Davos have since become one of the oddest power couples in international economics and politics. The relationship traces the story of China’s ascent after Mao. Chinese leaders have repeatedly chosen the forum for important policy speeches.

Nearly three years after overseeing the Tiananmen crackdown in 1989, then-Premier Li Peng traveled to Davos and urged global business leaders to resume investing in China. Starting in 2007, the country’s premiers began hosting an annual “summer Davos” session in China, with the World Economic Forum, to gather business leaders from across the developing world. And in early 2017, Xi Jinping, China’s current leader, selected Davos for his plea to the world not to embrace trade protectionism and populism.

At this year’s gathering, Chinese officials dealing with a slowing economy and faltering investment are prepared for an energetic promotional message. Their pitch: The signing of an initial trade agreement with the Trump administration last week means China remains a good place for multinationals to keep much of their manufacturing supply chains.

On the face of it, China is an awkward player at a forum that celebrates free trade and markets. China has long maintained some of the highest tariffs on imports of any of the world’s leading trading nations, although it has started to reduce them in the past 18 months. It has won global dominance in a succession of industries through lavish government subsidies and elaborate and often protectionist industrial policies.

Through the years, changes in China’s delegation to Davos have reflected its economy’s evolution. The initial teams were dominated by free-market economists like Mr. Qian.

From the 1990s through the early 2000s, wealthy Chinese entrepreneurs played a leading role. The founders of China’s biggest tech companies, like Jack Ma of Alibaba and Robin Li of Baidu, formed an informal club that meets annually at Davos as they stay at elegantly furnished chalets with magnificent views of the snowy slopes and forests above.

China’s state-owned enterprises, like State Grid, the main electricity transmission company, have long sent delegates to Davos, but have expanded their phalanxes of top executives in the last few years as Mr. Xi has strengthened their commanding role in the Chinese economy. The Davos forum has become one of the few events for which state-owned enterprise bosses and other senior Communist Party cadres can obtain Beijing’s permission to exit China as domestic surveillance increases.

The executives say practically nothing at the forum itself but hold extensive private meetings at nearby cottages with government and business leaders from around the world. Advisers from global consulting firms help the Chinese leaders organize long schedules of hour-by-hour meetings, followed by stops at cocktail parties and dinners each evening.

As the World Economic Forum prepares to celebrate its 50th anniversary this week, the ability of China and the forum to balance the rhetoric of globalization and international openness with China’s increasingly state-led model has seldom been less clear.

China’s choice of leader for this year’s delegation underlines the country’s balancing act: Executive Vice Premier Han Zheng. He is in charge of day-to-day management of China’s economy and also oversees policies on Hong Kong, a semiautonomous Chinese city that has been shaken by seven months of sometimes violent protests as many residents object to Beijing’s rising influence.

The big question being asked in China is whether policymakers spent so much time listening to the global elite at Davos that they missed an international upswing in populism that has already produced a trade war with the United States and tensions with Europe. That populism now threatens precisely the globalization that Davos and its cosmopolitan elites epitomize.

“The discussions and pervasive sentiments at Davos might have lulled Chinese policymakers,” said Eswar Prasad, a Cornell University economist specializing in China.

At the same time, China’s trading partners and economic rivals are asking whether they spent too long listening to what China was saying at Davos, and not enough time looking at what it was actually doing.

Even as Mr. Xi was extolling free trade at Davos in early 2017, for example, his government was rushing ahead with its $300 billion “Made in China 2025” plan to replace imports of semiconductors, commercial aircraft and other advanced technology products with domestic production.

Officials and economists in China concede that Beijing did not foresee the rise in global worries about blue-collar job losses in places like the United States and Germany. But they strongly deny that it was the fault of China’s extensive participation at Davos. They attribute the missed signals instead to China’s failure to develop stronger relationships with communities in industrial heartlands around the globe.

“There was a lack of people-to-people communication between China and the United States,” although China has greatly expanded such communication in the past two years, said Zhu Min, a former deputy managing director of the International Monetary Fund and former vice governor of China’s central bank. He is now a trustee of the World Economic Forum.

Western bankers, multinational executives and others advising Beijing made a mistake in initially dismissing the rise of populism, said Yuan Ding, the dean of the China Europe International Business School in Shanghai. China erred by not telling the country’s state-owned media and other researchers to visit a wide range of locations and not just pay rapt attention to what is said in Davos, New York and Western capitals.

“Go to Ohio,” he said.

Regardless of whether China has paid too much attention to Davos, the partnership has clearly been close. And China has been a big beneficiary.

When Klaus Schwab started the forum in 1971, China was still stuck in Mao’s Cultural Revolution. As a few prosperous European businessmen and academics gathered in wealthy Davos that winter, most of China’s population was still mired in extreme poverty. Most of the country’s schools and universities were nearing the middle of a decade-long closure. Mr. Qian himself languished in prison

When Deng Xiaoping started China’s “reform and opening up” policy in 1978, Mr. Schwab showed up in Beijing to ask Mr. Deng to come speak at what was then called the European Management Forum. Mr. Deng declined. But he sent a small team of free-market economists led by Mr. Qian in 1979, a month after the Chinese Communist Party Central Committee approved the new policy.

That choice proved fortuitous.

Mr. Qian was not the average economist but had remarkable political connections. He had become an outspoken advocate of land reform in the 1930s and early member of the Chinese Communist Party after his father, a tenant farmer, was beaten up by a landlord and jailed. Mr. Qian saw combat against China’s Nationalists as a political officer in the People’s Liberation Army. After the Communists prevailed in 1949 in China’s civil war, he served as a vice minister of education and as Communist Party secretary of the Ministry of Culture.

Prison and the near collapse of the Chinese economy during the Cultural Revolution turned him into a market-oriented reformer. After his release from prison in 1975, he became the head of the Institute of Economics at the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences. The academy was unique at the time: It was the only government-authorized international policy research group in Beijing, although now Beijing has many such research groups.

After his visit to Davos, Mr. Qian quickly arranged for the Chinese Academy to establish a partnership with Mr. Schwab and the forum. The forum had the benefit of Switzerland’s reputation for political neutrality. Beijing and Washington had backed opposite sides in the Vietnam War, which had ended only four years earlier, so business and economic contacts with the United States were mostly politically off limits in China.

The forum quickly began playing a key role in bringing European investment and business ideas to China. Concepts like joint stock ownership of businesses, instead of cooperative or communal ownership, were developed in China in the early 1980s partly through contacts and discussions at the forum.

Davos, a small resort town in a German-speaking area of Switzerland near Zurich, is three hours’ drive from Munich. German multinationals have long played a big role at the forum. German companies moved faster than practically any other country’s companies in the early 1980s to enter the Chinese market, partly using the forum’s connections.

Today, the leaders of China’s state-owned enterprises use their attendance at the forum to allay any overseas concerns about their expansion into international markets, said Justin Lin, the director of the Center for New Structural Economics at Peking University.

“They need to explain themselves to this global forum,” Mr. Lin said.

But Chinese entrepreneurs, economists, financiers and government officials still attend.

“It’s good for China’s S.O.E.s to join the forum, because S.O.E. reform is still important for China and the whole world,” said Mr. Zhu, the former I.M.F. official. “They change their way of thinking, they change their way of doing business, and that’s good.”

While Davos may be an imperfect place for China to listen to global economic policy sentiment, China seems likely to keep paying attention.

“It’s too small, it’s too cold and in many cases it conflicts with Chinese New Year,” Mr. Zhu said. “But people still go.”

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With Impeachment in the News, Ads Are Staying Away From Politics

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At this point in the 2016 election cycle Donald J. Trump was slashing through a field of more seasoned candidates and Hillary Clinton appeared to have a good shot at becoming the first female president. Americans were transfixed, and a number of advertising campaigns capitalized on the growing interest in an unusual race.

A Chrysler commercial starred a pair of actors known for their portrayals of fictional White House occupants: Martin Sheen (President Jed Bartlet of “The West Wing”) and Bill Pullman (President Thomas Whitmore of “Independence Day”).

An ad for Legal Sea Foods, a restaurant chain based in Boston, presented the company’s chief executive, Roger Berkowitz, in a mock campaign poster with a slogan that referenced a Trump campaign promise: “If we build a wall on the border, who will eat our delicious fish tacos?”

Four years later, things have changed. The environment for advertising is “more scary than exciting,” said Ellis Verdi, the president of DeVito/Verdi, the agency that created the Legal Sea Foods ad, and most companies no longer see an upside in weighing in on politics, even jokingly.

“There’s fear, as opposed to the entertainment that was associated with the horse race a couple of years ago,” Mr. Verdi said. “Even free expression is a challenge right now. People are holding their hands over their eyes and ears a little bit. This is not the moment for advertisers to take risks.”

With impeachment in the news and the 2020 campaign sparking nasty hashtags on social media, it has become routine for companies to reject pitches for ads that even touch on politics. They have also asked that their ads be placed far from candidates’ campaign spots.

“It’s like McCarthyism — people are too frickin’ scared to say anything,” said Gaston Legorburu, a longtime advertising executive who founded the agency Glue IQ. “I’ve seen briefs where on Page 1 they’re telling you to, by all means, stay away from anything that is political.”

In the digital sphere, companies are taking steps to make sure that their ads do not appear next to content that includes keywords like “Russia,” “Ukraine” and “election,” according to data compiled by the technology company Integral Ad Science.

“Impeachment” is another no-no. In December 2018, few companies blocked that word. A year later, nearly 50 companies had done so.

Some brand executives have told ad agencies that they are afraid of alienating customers or drawing the wrath of the presidential Twitter account.

“It’s a divided world that we live in,” said Raja Rajamannar, the chief marketing officer at Mastercard. “Can you afford to exclude half of your audience?”

Other companies are avoiding politically engaged ads out of simple fatigue.

“Trump has been in America’s 24-hour news cycle for the past four years: countless hours of ‘Saturday Night Live’ skits, tweets, memes, #resistance microsites, etc.,” Zachary Roif, an associate creative director at the marketing agency R/GA, said in an email. “People have simply had enough — enough outrage, enough disdain, enough shock value to the point where making a statement feels a little tired.”

And then there is the risk of offending Mr. Trump and how that could affect business.

“This notion that you pick on a president and then he tweets about you and is mean to your company is a new thing,” said Eamonn Store, the chief executive of the consulting firm FairShare and a former North American chief executive of Guardian News & Media. “If you happen to be a large technology brand like Microsoft, and the government is your biggest client, then the last thing you need is to be in conflict with the White House.”

Many companies, Mr. Store added, believe Mr. Trump will win re-election. If that happens, he said, “being the pro-impeachment enterprise is not going to be good for business.”

The president has railed against Amazon, Google and Harley-Davidson. When Nike announced in 2018 that it had entered into a new marketing deal with the former N.F.L. quarterback Colin Kaepernick, who had angered the administration by kneeling during the national anthem to protest police brutality and racism, Mr. Trump said on Twitter, “Nike is getting absolutely killed with anger and boycotts.”

Things are different on the other side of the Atlantic. Before the fractious general election in Britain last month, Burger King put up an ad on the sides of a double-decker bus featuring a photo of a burger and the tagline “Another Whopper on the side of a bus. Must be an election.” The British supermarket chain Tesco commented cheekily on the political discord with an advertisement showing bottles of liquor crowded around the words “Time for a cabinet reshuffle.”

This is the kind of advertising — politically engaged, cheerfully flippant — that is not making the rounds in the United States.

In recent years companies have been willing to associate themselves with broad messages on social issues, using ads to support female empowerment, the environment and other causes that do not raise many hackles. But the specifics of 2020 seem too hot to touch.

“It just feels wrong right now,” Mr. Verdi said.

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SpaceX’s Explosive Test May Launch Year of Renewed Human Spaceflight

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KENNEDY SPACE CENTER, Fla. — The rocket launched. It exploded.

SpaceX and NASA declared the blast a success.

Usually the destruction of a rocket means a failed mission. But on Sunday, SpaceX was demonstrating a crucial safety system of its Crew Dragon spacecraft, a capsule that is to carry astronauts for NASA to the International Space Station.

There was no one on board during Sunday’s flight. The passengers this time were two test dummies with sensors to measure the forces that real astronauts would experience if the capsule’s escape system were ever needed. The system proved itself, even during a phase of the flight when atmospheric forces on the spacecraft are most severe. About nine minutes after the test, the intact capsule landed in the Atlantic Ocean.

“Overall, as far we can tell thus far, it was a picture-perfect mission,” said Elon Musk, the founder and chief executive of SpaceX, during a news conference after the test.

This accomplishment may set the stage for opening a new era in spaceflight. For more than eight years since the last space shuttle flight, no person has launched to orbit from the United States. Instead, NASA has had to rely on Russia for the transportation of its astronauts.

Now SpaceX and Boeing, the companies hired by NASA, are nearly ready for their first crewed flights, and probably not just of NASA astronauts.

“We’re on the cusp of commercializing low-Earth orbit,” said Jim Bridenstine, the NASA administrator. “I want to see large amounts of capital flowing into activities that include humans in space. And those activities could be industrialized biomedicine. It could be advanced materials, and it could be people that want to go to space for tourism purposes.”

Boeing and SpaceX may not be the only companies taking people to space from the United States. Two companies, Blue Origin and Virgin Galactic, seem to be on track to carry their first customers on expensive, short-hop space tourism flights soon. The number of people heading toward space could surge, even if most experience weightlessness for just a few minutes.

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The abort test was postponed one day because of rough seas and gusty winds on Saturday at the planned splashdown site. On Sunday, the waves were beginning to calm, but a storm was moving toward the launchpad.

At 10:30 a.m., conditions on both land and sea were good enough to allow the Falcon 9 rocket to blast off into the sky.

At 84 seconds after liftoff, powerful thrusters on the Crew Dragon pushed the spacecraft away from the rocket quickly, reaching a speed of more than twice that of sound. The rocket then exploded.

Mr. Musk said the capsule, with its heat shield, should be able to survive fiery conditions that erupted before the capsule made its escape.

“It could quite literally look like something out of Star Wars, fly right out of a fireball,” he said. “We want to avoid doing that.”

Coasting to an altitude of more than 130,000 feet, the capsule then performed a carefully designed choreography — jettisoning the bottom of the spacecraft, firing small thrusters and deploying its parachutes — before it splashed into the ocean about 20 miles from where it started.

The next Crew Dragon mission is to take two NASA astronauts, Douglas G. Hurley and Robert L. Behnken, to the space station.

Mr. Musk said that flight would likely occur in the second quarter of the year, between April and June. The Falcon 9 rocket and a new Crew Dragon capsule for that flight will be ready in Florida by the end of February, he said, but safety reviews will take some time.

The crew on the space station is to drop to three in April when three astronauts currently there return to Earth on a Russian Soyuz spacecraft.

The mission for Mr. Hurley and Mr. Behnken is currently scheduled to last two weeks, but could be extended, which would prevent a drop-off in scientific research at the station. For a longer stay, the astronauts would need additional training.

“So far on space station, our responsibility is to take care of ourselves while we’re there, not make a mess,” Mr. Behnken said.

Mr. Bridenstine said that a decision on whether Mr. Hurley and Mr. Behnken would stay longer would be made in a few weeks. He also said that NASA was still negotiating to buy an additional seat on a Soyuz.

“I think it’s important we have options,” Mr. Bridenstine said.

The last time NASA astronauts launched from the United States was July 8, 2011, when the space shuttle Atlantis blasted off on its last flight from Florida.

Thirteen days later, it glided to a landing back at the Kennedy Space Center, where it is now a museum piece. Since then, astronauts from NASA and other nations flying to the space station have been hitching rides on Russian Soyuz rockets, at a current price of more than $80 million each.

From Alan Shepard’s first flight in 1961 through the Apollo moon landings to the space shuttles, NASA was in charge of designing, building and operating its rockets and spacecraft.

After the retirement of the shuttles, NASA planned to continue that approach with the Constellation program started under President George W. Bush. NASA aimed to develop the Ares 1 rocket to take astronauts to the space station.

But costs for Ares 1 and the accompanying Orion capsule kept rising and the schedule slipped repeatedly. The Obama administration canceled the program.

To replace Ares 1, NASA turned to commercial companies, the approach it uses for launches of satellites, cargo to the space station and robotic planetary probes. But relinquishing the transportation of astronauts was a bigger shift for the space agency.

When NASA awarded the commercial crew contracts to Boeing and SpaceX in 2014, the hope was that the flights carrying astronauts would begin by the end of 2017. The contracts set fixed prices, unlike earlier big NASA contracts where contractors were reimbursed for costs with an additional fee.

Watchdogs in government have questioned the management and costs of the program, and both Boeing and SpaceX have suffered technological setbacks along the way. SpaceX successfully sent an uncrewed Crew Dragon to the space station a year ago, and the company was gearing up to conduct the in-flight abort test.

But in April, during a ground test, the capsule that was to be used for the abort test — the same one that had gone to orbit — exploded. No one was injured, but that pushed back SpaceX’s schedule as it figured out what happened and how to fix it.

In December, Boeing launched one of its Starliner capsules without crew, but the mission ended early, without going to the space station, because of a problem with the spacecraft’s clock.

Many space enthusiasts hope that the commercial crew program will spur new business in space.

Last June, NASA announced that it would allow space tourists to make trips to the space station, and one company, Axiom Space, says it has one passenger signed up already for a 10-day trip that will cost $55 million. An Axiom mission could launch as soon as summer 2021.

However, another company, Bigelow Space Operations, which also said it planned to launch space tourists to the station, backed away a few months later.

“NASA still has a substantial amount of work to do,” said Robert T. Bigelow, the founder and chief executive of the company. “We learned last year when we secured a SpaceX launch and options for three others that unfortunately it was premature. So, therefore, we had to cancel those agreements.”

NASA is also expected to soon announce the winner of a competition to attach a commercial module to the International Space Station, providing more room for visitors.

Still, putting people in orbit will most likely remain a small slice of the money invested on space ventures.

“There’s certainly a business to made with human spaceflight,” said Chad Anderson, chief executive of Space Angels, an investment firm focused on start-up space companies. But, he added, his company saw human spaceflight more as a high-profile catalyst than a big business.

The areas of major growth, he said, will be global positioning systems, earth observation and communications, none of which require astronauts.

Closer to the ground, another pair of American companies could take passengers on brief trips to the edge of space.

The spacecraft built by Blue Origin and Virgin Galactic basically just go up and down like a big roller coaster and never accelerate to the speeds needed to reach orbit. Virgin’s officials are optimistically saying that commercial flights will begin this year. Blue Origin has not yet carried any passengers.

Neither company’s trip to space will be in financial reach of the average person. Virgin Galactic charges $250,000 for a seat. Blue Origin has not yet said what it will charge.

But the companies could greatly increase the number of people who travel to space. In the nearly 59 years since Yuri Gagarin became the first person in space, fewer than 600 people have followed him there.

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In a Sharp Downturn, College Can Be a Shock Absorber

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If we don’t prepare now, higher education is likely to endure another big shock whenever the next recession comes.

Expect overflowing public colleges and universities, students fleeing to for-profit colleges, a huge wave of student borrowing, and a spike in loan defaults — unless policy shifts now.

Here’s the problem, in a nutshell.

Public schools rely on government funding to keep the doors open and classes in session. But tuition paid by students doesn’t come close to covering the cost of public colleges and universities, which educate 80 percent of undergraduates. Taxpayers have always footed much of that bill.

But state support for public colleges has not recovered from the last recession, which decimated state budgets. For each student they enroll today, public colleges get 13 percent less in taxpayer funding than they did in 2008, a loss of nearly $7 billion in inflation-adjusted dollars.

The next economic downturn most likely won’t be as harsh as the last one, which was so bad we often call it the Great Recession. But all signs indicate that the next one will hit college students, especially those who borrow, just as hard, because we haven’t repaired the faults it revealed in how the United States finances colleges.

During downturns, colleges traditionally act as economic shock absorbers: As the supply of jobs shrinks, college enrollments expand.

That’s because scarce jobs and low wages reduce the “opportunity cost” of college. During a boom, students have to give up strong wages to go to college. During a bust, the cost of losing those earnings is lower and so more people go to school.

A recession is the right time for many adult workers to retool their skills, and for young people to stay in class rather than begin their careers in a stormy labor market. Research shows that young people who start their careers during a recession take a hit to their starting salaries.

Those low entry salaries then translate into smaller annual increases once the economy recovers. What’s worse, the effects persist for decades, penalizing a generation of wage earners. Getting more people into college during a recession helps to reduce the downward pressure on earnings that all of these people would create if they were instead searching for jobs.

Recognizing this dynamic, the federal government poured billions of dollars into subsidizing college enrollment during the last recession, which started in December 2007 and ended in June 2009.

Congress expanded the federal Pell Grant program, which subsidizes college for those with lower incomes, and it also increased the availability of tax credits for education. In economic terms, these price subsidies spurred demand for education, which was exactly the intended response.

Yet something went very wrong. With tax revenues plunging, states slashed funding to colleges just as millions were seeking to enroll. Public colleges could not adequately educate the influx of students. As their state subsidies shrank, public colleges either restricted enrollment, spent less on educating each student, or raised tuition. Sometimes, they did all three.

As public colleges burst at the seams, students unable to enroll in the classes they needed flooded into for-profit institutions, which welcomed them with open arms. Enrollment in for-profits hit a high in 2011, with 13 percent of undergraduates attending a for-profit college.

In hindsight, we can see this was driven by reduced funding for public institutions. Stephanie Cellini, an economist at George Washington University, has published research showing that for-profit enrollment tends to rise when funding for public colleges falls.

Almost all students who attend for-profits take out large loans to cover the high tuition, so debt surged along with enrollment. Millions of these borrowers entered a weak labor market when they left school, and many had trouble paying their loans. Thirty percent of those who borrowed for for-profit schools wound up defaulting on their student loans.

At community colleges borrowing went up as well, though the debts were not nearly as common, or as large, as at the for-profit schools. Traditionally, students at community college have rarely needed to borrow for school; those who do typically take out small loans (evidence suggests that some would benefit if they were to borrow a bit more).

Community colleges serve as a place for building career skills, and as an entry point to postsecondary education for many disadvantaged people. College will pay off for many of them, and encouraging students to try it out makes sense. But by keeping tuition very low at community colleges, we can minimize the riskiness of the gamble.

The lessons of the last recession were harsh but clear. We need to adequately support public colleges during economic downturns.

This will require federal action, because many states have balanced-budget provisions in their constitutions that ban them from running a deficit. All tax revenue drops in a recession, but the federal government can offset this with deficit spending while the states’ hands are tied.

Susan Dynarski is a professor of education, public policy and economics at the University of Michigan. Follow her on Twitter: @dynarski.

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Yellow or Blue? In Hong Kong, Businesses Choose Political Sides

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HONG KONG — The tapioca pearls at Fred Liu’s bubble teahouse are springy and fresh, just like the fish balls at Elaine Lau’s noodle shop. But that is not the only reason customers flock to these eateries in Hong Kong’s bustling Causeway Bay shopping district.

Both are members of the so-called yellow economy, shops that openly support the democracy movement remaking Hong Kong as it strives to protect the freedoms differentiating the territory from the rest of China.

After seven months of street protests against Beijing’s assault on these liberties, Hong Kong is color-coded — and bitterly divided. The yellow economy refers to the hue of umbrellas once used to defend demonstrators against pepper spray and streams of tear gas. That is in contrast to blue businesses, which support the police.

Families and businesses have cleaved, sometimes forcefully, between those who believe Beijing must be compelled to carry out promised reforms and those who worry that the democracy crusade is destroying Hong Kong’s reputation as a stable financial capital.

A middle ground between the blue and yellow factions barely exists.

“I’m yellow, but my parents are blue,” said Ms. Lau, the fish ball noodle seller. “A lot of families are like that.”

“Luckily, I control 90 percent of the restaurant,” she added, as diners slurped down bowls of soup. “So I can do what I want here.”

Both Ms. Lau’s noodle shop and Mr. Liu’s teahouse are plastered with Post-it notes of encouragement for pro-democracy forces, mimicking the Lennon Wall in Prague where messages of dissent proliferated under Soviet domination. Maps and apps showing businesses’ perceived leanings help guide customers their way.

“We want to show the Chinese Communist Party that Hong Kong people can be economically self-sufficient through the yellow economic circle,” Mr. Liu said. “We want to put pressure on blue shops to close.”

Devoid of natural resources and crowded onto limited land, Hong Kong has flourished because of its people, mostly entrepreneurial immigrants who left China for better prospects in the former British colony.

Hong Kong residents advanced up the economic ladder, as sweatshop laborers rose to become bosses with factories on the mainland and even real estate or shipping tycoons. Today, the territory, which was returned to Chinese rule in 1997, ranks behind only New York and London as a nexus of global finance.

Yet months of unrest, along with the trade war between the United States and China, have battered Hong Kong’s economy, which entered recession last year. In the central business district, police officers fired live bullets and arrested unarmed schoolgirls. On university campuses, students lobbed firebombs with homemade catapults. Tear gas has been unleashed in all but two of Hong Kong’s 18 districts.

Tourists from mainland China, a vital source of income for local businesses, have stayed away. Retail sales have plummeted.

Small-business owners, whose operations make up the bulk of Hong Kong’s enterprises, are bearing the brunt of the downturn, even as they contend with some of the highest rents in the world. Economic analysts fear for the city’s future.

“A deterioration of the sociopolitical situation and delays in addressing structural challenges of insufficient housing supply and high income inequality could further weaken economic activity and negatively affect the city’s competitiveness in the long term,” the International Monetary Fund warned last month.

Amanda Leung’s family has sold dried seafood for three generations. In recent years, mainland visitors concerned about the safety of the domestic food supply have been some of her biggest customers, she said. They bought fish maw and mollusks, abalone and sea cucumber.

“They have stopped coming,” she said.

Still, Ms. Leung said she understood the frustrations that have kept the protest movement going, from peaceful marches of more than a million people demonstrating against a now-withdrawn extradition bill to the passions of a hard core of brick-throwing youth.

“China should leave Hong Kong alone,” she said. “We can do business our own way.”

As tempers have flared, businesses on both sides of the color divide have been attacked. Down the street from Mr. Liu’s tea shop, vandals lobbed red paint at a food stall known as a yellow establishment, while a nearby snack food store considered to be pro-Beijing was damaged.

The battle has gone online, too. Ken Leung helped create WhatsGap, a popular app in Hong Kong that maps businesses that are considered yellow, helping them draw customers.

This month Google removed the app from its online store, saying it violated its policies related to sensitive events, but critics said the company might have been acting to placate China. Apple pulled a similar service from its app offerings last year.

“The divide in Hong Kong society has only increased, not lessened,” Mr. Leung said.

But in November, pro-democracy candidates won a landslide victory in district council elections, the first time that Hong Kong voters had a chance to express their positions on the protests since this movement began.

The yellow economy was backed up by the ballot box.

“There’s a perception that Hong Kong businesspeople are not sympathetic to the protests, but look at the silent majority that spoke in large peaceful marches or in the district council elections,” said Todd Darling, an American restaurateur who has lived in Hong Kong for 16 years.

As the protests gathered force last year, Rocky Siu watched as an orderly column of demonstrators, miles long, marched past one of his ramen restaurants. When the police cracked down, he opened his doors, offering half-price bowls of noodles and free saline solution to wash the tear gas from protesters’ eyes.

“I’m losing money, but that’s not the point,” he said. “We have to support our young people.”

Mr. Siu’s father was born in China and came to Hong Kong to seek a better life. But he owns a jewelry factory on the mainland and is, as Mr. Siu puts it, “deep blue.”

“I tell him I don’t understand. You escaped China but now you’re supporting them,” Mr. Siu said. “To me, it’s not yellow or blue. It’s black and white, right and wrong.”

Elaine Yu contributed reporting.

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‘Chewing Gum Tycoon’ of Lotte Group, Shin Kyuk-ho, Dies at 98

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SEOUL, South Korea — Shin Kyuk-ho, who built a chewing-gum business into ​the ​hugely successful Lotte ​Group in South Korea and Japan, only to see his sons squabble over the corporate empire, died on Sunday in Seoul. He was 98.

The company, South Korea’s fifth-largest business conglomerate, announced the death of Mr. Shin, its founder. The cause of his death was not given, but he had been hospitalized in Seoul in recent days for ailments accompanying old age.

Mr. Shin was the last of the rags-to-riches founders of South Korea’s major family-run conglomerates, or chaebol, and his death represented something of an end of an era for South Koreans. Charismatic chaebol tycoons like Mr. Shin were credited with engineering the dramatic industrialization that transformed the country into one of Asia’s leading economies after the destruction of the Korean War in the 1950s.

Like other chaebol founders, Mr. Shin’s beginnings were humble.

He was born in a rural village in Ulsan, in the southeast of what is now South Korea, in 1921, when the country was still languishing under Japan’s colonial rule. He was the eldest son of a family with 10 children.

The young Mr. Shin had a literary bent, and yearned to become a novelist. He was raising pigs in his village after graduating from an agricultural high school when he decided to stow away in a ship to Japan in 1941 to pursue a literary career there.

In Tokyo, he delivered milk and newspapers during the day while attending college at night. His first serious business venture in Japan, a factory producing cutting oil, a lubricant used in metalworking, was destroyed in an Allied bombing raid during World War II.

Mr. Shin never became a novelist, but he named his first successful business, a company that marketed chewing gum, Lotte after Charlotte, the female character in Wolfgang von Goethe’s novel “The Sorrows of Young Werther.” Mr. Shin was especially proud of the name Lotte, calling it “the best choice in my life.”

Mr. Shin began selling Lotte bubble gum in 1948, after watching American soldiers in postwar Japan handing out chewing gum to children. It was an instant success, and Lotte soon expanded into chocolate and other confections, as well as trading and real estate.

Although prosperous in Japan, Mr. Shin never forgot his roots. He retained his Korean citizenship and lived in both countries, traveling between the two. As soon as South Korea and Japan established diplomatic ties in 1965, he began investing in his home country, building hotels and department stores in Seoul.

Lotte helped spawn, and then benefited from, a rising consumer culture in South Korea as the middle class expanded with the rapid growth of an export-driven economy.

In the 1980s, Lotte executives objected when Mr. Shin began building Lotte World, a landmark hotel, mall and amusement-park complex, in Jamsil, then a sandy wilderness in southern Seoul. They said there was no market there.

But Mr. Shin predicted correctly that Lotte World would attract such throngs that the area would have chronic traffic jams.

Today, Lotte is a household name in South Korea, running 90 affiliates that together ​​generate 100 trillion won, or $86 billion, in annual revenues. The name graces hotels, department stores and apartment buildings, as well as nationwide chains of shopping malls, theme parks, movie theaters, duty-free stores, coffee shops and fast-food restaurants.

Mr. Shin kept his last promise for his home country — building South Korea’s tallest building — when Lotte completed its 123-story Lotte World Tower in Jamsil in 2017.

“His generous investment in his war-devastated home​ ​country and his dedication helped rebuild ​South Korea and lay the foundation of its economic prosperity,” the Federation of Korean Industries, a lobby for big businesses​, said Sunday in a statement​.

Despite his success, Mr. Shin’s reputation ​was tarnished in his last years.

While he ​involved his children ​in the company’s management, ​he held on to his ​kinglike control, never establishing a clear heir apparent.

As he slipped into dementia, ​ two sons — his elder son, Dong-joo, ​who had been put in charge of Lotte’s operation in Japan, ​ and another son, Dong-bin, in charge of Lotte in South Korea — started a winner-take-all tussle for the leadership of the Lotte empire, ​ accusing each other of financial wrongdoings. Shin Dong-bin, now chairman of Lotte Group, ​emerged victorious​, staging a coup that dethroned his father ​ as chairman​ of the board of directors at Lotte’s holding company.

​But the brothers’ squabbling led to an investigation by ​South Korean ​prosecutors, which in turn resulted in ​the 2016 ​indictment of Mr. Shin, the two sons and other family members on embezzlement, tax evasion and other charges. ​

A frail Mr. Shin appeared in court, in a wheelchair and carrying a cane, but he seemed unable to grasp what was happening.

“Am I indicted? Who indicted me? I own everything in Lotte!” he said at a hearing in 2017. He threw a microphone and wielded the cane as his lawyers escorted him out of the courtroom at the judge’s order.

Mr. Shin was sentenced to four years in prison for ​embezzlement and other charges. But the Seoul court decided not to imprison him because of his poor health. His son Shin Dong-bin was convicted of embezzlement and breach of trust but was ​allowed to run Lotte after his 20-month prison term was suspended.

Mr. Shin’s first wife, who was Korean, died ​young, leaving Mr. Shin with a daughter, Shin Young-ja. He then married a Japanese woman, with whom he had the two sons. Mr. Shin also maintained a common-law marriage with a former winner of the Miss Lotte contest in South Korea. They had a daughter, Shin Yoo-mi.

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Even C-Span Is Piqued: Senate Puts Limits on Trial Coverage

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News coverage of President Trump’s impeachment trial in the Senate began last week with a Republican senator calling a CNN reporter “a liberal hack” in the halls of Congress and laughing about it later that night during a Fox News interview.

Things haven’t improved much since.

Journalists are up in arms about new restrictions on their movement inside the Capitol, which they say will prevent them from easily interviewing lawmakers about the proceedings. The rules, negotiated by Republican Senate leadership, have yet to be written down, causing confusion among reporters and the Capitol Police expected to enforce them.

Even sedate C-Span is aggrieved, calling on the Senate to allow its television crews to document the trial, instead of the government-controlled cameras that — as was the case during Bill Clinton’s trial 21 years ago — will limit what viewers see and hear inside the Senate chamber.

Hurling insults at journalists is standard fare for officials at the White House. But Congress, with its protocols and rituals, was considered a relatively safe space for reporters, where cordiality was prized.

The pretrial tensions suggest that the bash-the-press mentality that led the White House to kill off the daily briefing and strip reporters of their credentials has now crept into what senators like to call “the world’s greatest deliberative body.”

“There’s long been this understanding that we both serve the same people at the end of the day, and that it’s a mutually beneficial relationship,” said Sarah Wire, a Los Angeles Times reporter who leads a committee of congressional correspondents. “Senators want to talk to us because they know we’re communicating their message to their voters back home.”

“All this,” she added in an interview, “was kind of a shock.”

“This” is a series of restrictions abruptly imposed on reporters shortly before the start of the trial, where opening arguments are set to begin Tuesday.

Instead of unfettered access to the hallways and corridors surrounding the Senate chamber — a tradition for decades — journalists will be confined to roped-off pens while the trial is in session. Walk-and-talk interviews with senators, a staple of congressional reporting made famous by TV shows like “The West Wing,” will be curtailed.

“This is how ludicrous these restrictions are,” a McClatchy reporter, Emma Dumain, wrote on Twitter last week, describing how a Capitol Police officer interrupted her interview with a senator and insisted that she “step behind a rope in order to continue the conversation.”

Journalists have long been barred from entering the Senate chamber, relegated to an overhead view from the press gallery above. Now, to enter the upstairs gallery, they will need to queue up for a magnetometer meant to sniff out illicit electronics, raising concerns about their ability to quickly relay to the public what is happening inside.

The effect, reporters say, is to make it harder to chronicle the you-are-there details expected of a historic political moment — including which senators are doodling or snoozing during testimony. In stark contrast with the coverage of State of the Union addresses, a few stationary cameras controlled by a Senate office, rather than an independent news organization, will provide the only viewpoint of the trial floor.

“Those cameras operate under very strict guidelines: They show the person who is speaking, and maybe some wide shots,” Terry Murphy, vice president for programming at C-Span, said in an interview. “They can’t show others reacting or listening. Having our own cameras in there would allow us to cover the trial with a much more full picture of what’s going on.”

C-Span wrote to the Senate majority leader, Mitch McConnell, in December, formally requesting access. As of Saturday, the network had heard nothing back.

The American news media has come a long way since the country’s first impeachment trial, of President Andrew Johnson, in 1868, when House impeachment managers sat for a still portrait by the famed Civil War photographer Mathew Brady.

The Clinton impeachment trial was the first to take place in the age of 24-hour cable news. But journalists in 1999 did not have to contend with the minute-by-minute demands of digital media. Mr. Trump’s impeachment trial will be the first to be dissected in real-time — and possibly by the Twitter-happy president himself.

On Capitol Hill, parties on both sides of the lawmaker-journalist divide say discussions about access are active. First Amendment groups like the American Civil Liberties Union have weighed in to decry the new limits. The Reporters Committee for Freedom of the Press gathered signatures from 57 news organizations objecting to the rules.

Elisabeth Bumiller, an assistant managing editor and the Washington bureau chief of The New York Times, said in a statement that the restrictions “will severely limit the ability of reporters to gather news during one of the most historic events in the nation’s history.”

“These limits are far more burdensome than the rules that govern press access in the Capitol, even those in effect during the last impeachment trial, and will prevent journalists from freely documenting a public debate in Congress,” Ms. Bumiller said.

Mr. McConnell’s office, which controls the business of the Senate, declined to comment.

On Capitol Hill, there is speculation that the restrictions were put in place because Chief Justice John G. Roberts Jr., who is presiding over the trial, will be present in the chamber each day. Typically, reporters’ movements in the Capitol are limited when high-profile people visit, like Vice President Mike Pence.

But congressional correspondents said that, even after several meetings with Senate officials, they did not know why the restrictions had been put in place. Some suspected that Senate leaders believe the less the public knows about the trial, the better.

“Journalists are the public’s eyes and ears in the Capitol,” said Leo Shane III, a correspondent for Military Times. “We’re asking lawmakers to make sure they’re not using the excuse of security concerns as a reason to exclude the public from this trial.”

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Davos by the Numbers

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The entry fee for the World Economic Forum in 1980.

The amount in $100 prepaid gift cards Mastercard gave out to attendees in 2002.

The year by which Bill Gates promised spam would be a thing of the past, at the 2004 Davos gathering.

The amount raised in five minutes for mosquito nets in Tanzania after Sharon Stone pledged her initial $10,000.

The fine for wearing a necktie at the 2004 conference, in a program that raised more than $16,000 for UNICEF.

The amount the French bank Société Générale announced during the 2008 gathering that one rogue trader had lost for the company.

The amount the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation pledged at the 2010 gathering toward vaccinations in the world’s poorest countries.

The length of fencing and barbed wire the Swiss military installed at the 2011 conference.

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As World Economy Shifts Gears, Trade Growth Slows

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As the global business and political elite gather at Davos this year, the question remains open: Is the trade war on? Or is it off again?

As far as China and the United States are concerned, a tenuous truce seems to have been declared. Phase 1, signed last week, eases some Trump administration sanctions on China in return for Beijing’s vow to step up its purchases of American farm products and other goods.

But cheer not. Few experts believe that this opens a path to Phase 2 and beyond.

The ongoing trade challenges lie not only with China. In an election year, the Europeans, with their trade surpluses in autos and luxury goods, could also be a tempting target for President Trump.

Adding to the uncertainty is the administration’s decision to block the World Trade Organization from adding members to its appellate court, crippling the organization’s ability to rule in trade disputes.

If South Korea and Japan, or Brazil and the European Union, have a trade conflict, they no longer have anywhere to take it.

Long-term investment and elaborate supply chains depend on a degree of predictability. Dependable good-faith trade agreements backed by World Trade Organization arbitration were ways of ensuring that.

But beyond the immediate political environment — and whether or not Mr. Trump is re-elected — larger trends are standing in the way of any return to the golden age of globalization so beloved by those who attend Davos.

The extraordinary growth in global trade that occurred between the 1970s and 2008 was fueled in large part by the profusion of enormous bulk carriers, the widespread adoption of shipping containers and the movement of hundreds of millions of Asian workers from the countryside to factories serving the world market.

It was a one-off shift, which explains why growth in global trade is now slowing. But it also left a legacy of social and political tensions.

Swing voters in the Rust Belt helped put Mr. Trump in the White House. Those states are reeling from a half-century of traumatic structural change: domestic deindustrialization compounded by the way global trade has shifted manufacturing jobs to places like China and Mexico from places like the Midwest.

This is not just an American story. There are also rusting industrial plants and dilapidated company towns all across Europe and Asia.

But in few places has the collapse of the old model of industrialism left scars deeper than in the United States. The failure of America’s policymakers to deal with these structural changes over the last half-century leaves large parts of the country’s population uncertain and angry.

It is a recipe for backlash, and Mr. Trump has capitalized on it. But even before America unleashed its campaign against the W.T.O., the multilateral trading system was in trouble.

The Doha Rounds of W.T.O. talks, intended to improve trading prospects for developing countries, have been dead since at least 2008. Few people who know the workings of the W.T.O. and its appellate body would sing their praises. Their creaky, slow-moving procedures are a thin reed on which to hang the future of the world economic order.

Furthermore, when officials like Robert Lighthizer, the United States trade representative, declare that the system must be changed because it was not designed to deal with the ascent of China, they have a point.

China’s scale and pace of development, its no-holds-barred approach to competition and the authoritarian regime that backs it fundamentally put in question the liberal model of globalism and win-win trade relations.

It is barely an exaggeration to say that the history of economic development, played out according to Western rules — the narrative that began with Adam Smith’s doctrine of free markets in the 18th century — starts to look like only a preface to an age of competition between large economic blocs.

The Europeans increasingly look like the last man standing when it comes to free trade. The United States, with its long history of protectionism, was always a somewhat reluctant recruit to the camp of free trade. In the 21st century, with the emergence of China and India, the United States has company on the global stage.

China, under its current rulers, is a resurgent and assertive nation-state that poses a fundamental challenge to the power position America built in Asia during the Cold War. What is at stake is more than trade. It is geopolitics.

This was made explicit by the Obama administration and its talk of an “Asia pivot,” with Mr. Obama focusing more on the rise of Asia and less on the Middle East. Superpower competition reduces Mr. Trump’s Phase 1 trade deal with its discussions about soy beans to a sideshow. What matters is the intersection of military and industrial policy in the tech arena — 5G and A.I., not steel and agriculture, will shape the future balance of power.

This new competition brings to mind the Cold War.

China is ruled by a Communist Party that pays lip service to the cult of Mao. America’s positions in Korea, Japan, Taiwan and the South China Sea are legacies of that era. But in the Cold War with the Soviet Union there was never the depth of economic, technological and cultural interconnection that the West has forged with China since the 1980s.

As an alternative historical analogy, some are tempted to invoke the rise of Imperial Germany before 1914 with which the British Empire entertained a similar mixture of rivalry and cooperation. But that comparison belittles the significance of China’s re-emergence.

What we are witnessing is a world event of a different order from Bismarck’s accomplishments. And the global conditions under which this competition takes place are far more pressing.

The first Cold War gave us a vision of global apocalypse centered on nuclear weapons. By the 1980s, we were terrifying ourselves with talk of nuclear winter. That was a nightmare that would be triggered by miscalculation.

The climate challenge that we currently face arises not from a nuclear standoff gone wrong, but from our economic system. The huge expansion and relocation of industrial production that have driven the expansion in trade in the last half-century have also blown out the global carbon budget.

On the day after the presidential election this November, the Trump administration has said it will remove the country from the Paris climate accord. That agreement, for all its inadequacy, is humanity’s best effort to encompass the scale of the planetary challenge we face.

If we are serious about decarbonization, we need to take an enveloping approach not only to domestic emissions but also to trade in carbon-intensive goods. If labor costs and migrant workers were the trade policy issues of the 20th century, carbon border taxes are the frontier of trade policy in the 21st.

The push to decarbonize the great centers of global industrial production must be negotiated between the major trading powers.

The United States is already sidelined at gatherings like the Group of 20. It is no longer the world’s most important emitter of carbon dioxide or the No. 1 trading partner for much of the world.

Mr. Trump’s actions and policies put the onus more firmly on the Europeans and the Chinese to find a way of shaping the new environmental politics of trade — if necessary, without the United States.

Adam Tooze directs the European Institute at Columbia University. He attended the World Economic Forum in Davos in 2019 and is to return this year.

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