However, with the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic disrupting international travel and tourism, these remote countries have suffered greatly from the repercussions of a lack of tourism dollars being injected into their economies. 

According to the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development, the usual percentage of gross domestic product, or GDP,  from tourism for developing countries is 5%; however, for SIDS, the average share stands at over 20%. This over-reliance on the tourism industry has proven to be a highly fragile aspect of the SIDS economy, as tourism numbers decreased drastically during the pandemic, and so did the revenue. 

The Maldives is an illustrative example of this phenomenon. According to the World Bank, the tourism industry accounts for about 25% of the small Indian Ocean country’s GDP. Combining this factor with the steep decline in tourism due to the pandemic — from around 1.7 million visitors in 2019 to approximately 560,000 in 2020, or about a 66% decline — the country’s GDP contracted an estimated 28% by the end of 2020. 

“As an economy heavily dependent on international tourism, the restrictions on global travel and other protective measures against the Covid-19 pandemic have had a significant impact on the Maldives,” President Ibrahim Mohamed Solih told CNBC in a March 2021 interview. 

The Maldives had to close its borders to foreign tourists from March to July of last year. Not only did this trigger the firing of thousands of workers, as tourism revenue quickly declined , but it also directly affected the cash flow of foreign currency that helped the Maldivian Government pay for imports.

According to the Michigan State University, around 60% of the Maldives’ foreign exchange receipts are acquired through foreign tourism spending. These funds are used to buy imports such as petroleum, building materials and around 90% of the country’s food supplies.

According to a recent United Nations Development Program report on the Maldives’ state during the pandemic cited that these imports were drastically affected by the decline in tourism and foreign money being exchanged and used in the country. The same report highlights how the country went from importing around $45 million worth of petroleum in January 2020 to only about less than $10 million by May of the same year. 

This drastic fall in imports, economic activity, employment and overall quality of life in the Maldives highlights how fragile the tourism industry can be if a country is overly reliant on it. As the industry depends on several foreign factors that SIDS, like the Maldives, have virtually no control over, they have found this pandemic to be a “wake up” call to start looking into economic and industry diversification efforts. 

In the Maldives, this led the government to develop diversification plans for investing more in education and youth programs, as well as investment in foreign markets and better worker preparation for Maldivian citizens to incorporate them into the workforce outside of tourism. 

Luckily for the Maldives, its government has managed to keep a steady path towards recovery. The Maldivian authorities managed to cut down on their government spending and swap their monetary arrangements with foreign government banks like the Reserve Bank of India for a value of $400 million. Although tourist numbers are still below average – with around 200,000 foreign visitors arriving at the small nation between January and February 2021, which only accounts for 42% of last year’s numbers during the same period – the country expects to have about 1,000,000 tourist arrivals in 2021, which would lead to an approximate 17% rise in GDP by the end of the year. 

Nonetheless, this ideal scenario that the Maldives has managed to achieve is not the de facto outcome for every SIDS county. Other small island nations around the world have not been as fortunate to have a big enough monetary reserve and quick tourism recovery, such as the Maldives. 

This is the case of Fiji. This Pacific island country depends heavily on the tourism industry, accounting for 40% of its GDP and being directly responsible for employing 150,000 people, or 17% of the population of 880 thousand people. 

According to the Reserve Bank of Fiji, the country’s GDP shrunk by about 21.7% by the end of 2020, highlighting the worst contraction in the nation’s history. This is mostly because the number of tourists who visited the country in 2020 was 75% lower than in 2019. Fijian Prime Minister Frank Bainimarama said that this also led to 115,000 Fijians, or one-third of the Fijian workforce to be laid off from jobs or have hour cuts due to the failing tourism industry. 

“You can’t suddenly work from home when you earn your paycheck as a scuba instructor, or as a handicraft maker who usually sells to tourists,” said Bainimarama in a press conference in July 2020. “With borders shut around the world, Fijian tourism has come to a halt. Many jobs have still not returned; some may never.”

However, he has a different approach regarding future recovery for his country’s economy. Based on a survey and report by the IFC, diversification might still be in the picture, with efforts to improve education and workforce training programs in sight. However, plans like these are yet to be made official. Ultimately, Bainimarama still sees the tourism industry as Fiji’s main, and arguably, only choice for total recovery. 

“When it comes to COVID, SIDS need resources, not regulations better suited to larger level markets,”  Bainimarama said. “Let’s find opportunity in this crisis, by recognizing how the international community can better support employers and employees who rely on the stewards of small island economies, like tourism, and target support accordingly.”

His primary approach is to increase resources for the country’s development and its tourism industry, rather than veer towards more globalized forms of growth such as the Maldives plans to do with foreign investments. With this current strategy, the Reserve Bank of Fiji estimates that the Fijian economy might return to  pre-pandemic levels until 2023 with a GDP increase of around 14% in 2021, as long as tourism starts to increase steadily to 2019 levels. 

The IFC survey report also highlights that regardless of some financial intervention from the Fijian government, around 74% of businesses surveyed expected to close within five months. This emphasizes how the government’s strategy, although reliable in the long term, has not provided much relief to the Fijian people. Moreover, the report also shows that if no diversification efforts are promptly implemented, the Fijian economy will remain vulnerable to other external factors such as climate change or other financial crashes.

Overall, these two countries pose two fairly different approaches towards economic recovery. While the Maldives has taken a more immediate diversification approach, Fiji — although potentially aiming to diversify, bets more on revitalizing- its tourism sector to regain economic normality. 

In this comparative analysis, it is important to highlight that although Fiji has 360,000 more people than the Maldives, both countries have comparable GDPs of around $5.5 billion each. This gives the Maldives the comparative advantage in GDP per capita, having around $10,600 per person, while Fiji has $6,200. 

This GDP to population ratio is one of the factors that has allowed the Maldives to have a smoother path to recovery, aided by the fact that they have taken more active monetary and fiscal policies to stabilize the economy. 

However, the long-term recovery effects are yet to be seen entering the second quarter and the summer. This will be one of the main challenges for all the SIDS worldwide as they scramble to return to their pre-pandemic tourism levels.

Although a major part of the success of each country’s recovery will ultimately depend on the state of Covid restrictions within it as well as within its main tourism providing countries, the influence of fiscal and monetary policy as well as leadership in creating a sustainable strategy for recovery cannot be ignored. 

Tourism is a very fragile industry, and through these two examples, it is clear that there can be different approaches to addressing its fragility. With very different kinds of SIDS around the world, from the very rich like Singapore to the small and humble like Tuvalu, each country will have to develop their own personalized approach to recovery. 

Nonetheless, the fact that diversification is one of the main goals for SIDS still remains, as they look to make their economy more resilient to possible threats such as global warming and tourism crashes like the one that the pandemic originated. 

The post The True Cost of COVID-19 on Tourism for Small Island Developing States appeared first on Glimpse from the Globe.

An interview with Francesco Loiola, a USC senior and Italian-born citizen, shed light on the country’s sociopolitical complexities. 

Currently, over 118,000 deaths have been reported in Italy, and the government is again scrambling to contain a new surge and the emergence of variants. As the first European country to enter a full lockdown, Italy has become all too familiar with the imposed stringent restrictions. 

“Italy is fragmented,” Loiola said. “There are parts of the nation where people tend to behave in a certain way.”

Geographical regions are color-coded on a map, depending on their level of contagion. In red-zone areas, individuals cannot leave their homes except for health and work-related reasons, and all non-essential businesses are closed. In orange zones, various shops can open, but restaurants and bars exclusively offer take-away and/or delivery services. In yellow zones, businesses, restaurants and bars may remain open until 6 PM. 

However, over Easter weekend, the entire country was considered a red zone and subjected to a national lockdown from April 3 to 5. In tandem with inoculation delays and medical concerns with the AstraZeneca vaccine due to unsubstantiated claims of blood clot formation, the nation finds itself at a crossroads. 

Vaccination delays across the European Union (EU) inevitably explain Italy’s low vaccination rates, but are not the sole contributing factor. News of AstraZeneca’s vaccine efficacy and health-related concerns halted the EU’s vaccination efforts, giving rise to controversial claims among health and safety experts. A lack of transparency and a disunited front led Italy to temporarily suspend the use of the vaccine until the European Medicines Agency (EMA) granted clearance. In April 2021, the EMA’s Executive Director, Emer Cooke, said there is no clear evidence linking the negatively experienced symptoms, such as clotting and bleeding, to the vaccine. However, the impressions of Italian citizens vary. 

A scientific study published by the European Journal of Epidemiology, “Mistrust in Biomedical Research and Vaccine Hesitancy”, assessed vaccine hesitancy amongst a random sample of 968 Italian citizens. The report revealed that citizen trust in scientific research and vaccine efficacy decreased, especially amongst middle-aged individuals. According to the results, the proportion of citizens willing to receive the vaccination is too miniscule to prevent the effective spreading of COVID-19 within the nation. Trust in the European Medicine Agency is essential to extinguish misleading claims that deter herd immunity efforts. 

“In general, people are aware that there are no side effects but are fearful because of health concerns… some are calling upon Draghi to receive the vaccine on camera and will not receive it until Draghi and the Minister of Health do,” Loiola said. 

Draghi has faced unbearable pressure since winning the Senate’s confidence vote, a formality in creating a new government within Italy. At the request of Italy’s president, Draghi formed his own government in January 2021 to tackle the nation’s health and economic crises.

When Draghi was elected, “newspapers all over the world reported on an Italian giant taking over Italy,” Loiola said. “They called him ‘Super Mario’… this is the first time in 25 years that Italian politics has been shown in a positive light,” posing a direct contrast to the notorious corruption that had taken center stage in Italian politics in years past. 

The “cheating mentality” in Italian politics, as Loiola mentioned, has led to widespread misconduct, as evidenced by Matteo Renzi’s term as prime minister and the infamous referendum of 2016. The proposed plebiscite encompassed a series of drastic changes to the Italian political system. If passed, it would have allowed for major reforms to the constitution. 

Francesco Galietti, chief executive of a Rome based political risk consultancy expressed concerns about the referendum’s disillusioned goals: “Renzi, like David Cameron, thought he could unite the party with a referendum and all he achieved was to divide it more than ever,” said Galietti. For most, the referendum was tied to the prime minister’s performance in office. Renzi received high approval ratings when initially assuming the role in 2014, but voters became increasingly frustrated over high unemployment numbers, the migration crisis and health-related issues. 

The referendum received unparalleled voter turn-out, with 70% of the population voting ‘no’ not only on the issues at hand but on Renzi’s rule. While Renzi promised to step back after an ignominious defeat, he returned after a month, launching his own party and igniting a governmental crisis amid the pandemic. 

Thus, the most notable effect of Draghi’s emergence into Italian politics has been both the nation’s and the European Union’s renewed trust in Italy. His experience as former chief of the European Central Bank, credited with “saving the Euro,” has gained him immense popularity amongst Italians and political opposition parties. He remarkably received the support of moderate and conservative politicians alike and now leads a six-party government. 

“Draghi’s presence means we have access to a lot more European money because they [the European Union]trust him,” Loiola said.

In addition to restoring transparency, Draghi’s main task is to redesign the recovery plan that determines how Italy will spend 251 billion dollars in loans and grants from the EU. Draghi’s extensive experience in handling financial markets has made him the quintessential leader to lead Italy out of its economic crisis and improve the quality of life for Italian citizens. 

The wave of restrictions has caused a 30% decline in Italy’s industrial production and an economy shrinkage of 8.9%, a comparable recession to Italy post-World War II. 

Record unemployment numbers and business closures drove the masses into poverty. Approximately 36.7 billion euros were lost from the Italian economy due to travel restrictions that halted their tourism industry, which traditionally makes up 13% of their GDP. 

The European Commission is expected to release more information about an EU-wide digital vaccination passport that would allow for a certain degree of tourism. When asked about how Italians would respond to a digital vaccination passport, Loiola said: “At this stage, more people care about the economy… by May, citizens under the age of 60 should start being vaccinated and they comprise a huge majority of the population and those most heavily affected by COVID-19. When they administer those vaccinations… Italy will [encourage]tourism.”

With a clear agenda ahead, Italians are hopeful in a reformed governmental approach that can effectively tackle the myriad of crises that have plagued the nation. With an emphasis on transparency and diplomacy, Italy’s growth may be insurmountable within the next few years, making way for a second renaissance under Mario Draghi’s guidance. 

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But 32 years later, many Chileans have yet to taste the promised joys of liberty and prosperity. While Chile has enjoyed a relatively stable economy and a significant amount of international investment compared to its Latin American neighbors, national economic growth has not translated to improved quality of life for the majority of Chileans. In fact, quite the opposite has occurred.

According to United Nations Economic Commission for Latin America, the top 1% in Chile earn nearly a quarter of the nation’s annual income, which leaves a majority of Chileans barely able to eke out a living without accumulating back-breaking amounts of debt. The Central Bank of Chile found that on average nearly three-quarters of household income was directed to paying off debt in 2019. 

Monthly pension wages, which comprise 71% of the national GDP, can no longer sustain retirees, forcing citizens to work well past 65 even after decades of making regular payments. By some measurements, the average pension equates to 15% of the recipient’s final wages, a figure that has steadily declined since the nation switched from a public pension system to a private administration in 1981. The purchasing power of the average pension check plummeted during the 2008 recession, leaving millions of retirees receiving significantly less than the national minimum wage, despite paying into their pension plan for years.

Between this malfunctioning pension program and the nation’s flimsy public education system, residents feel trapped in a cycle of hard labor with little hope for upward mobility, and they blame their government for perpetuating this cyclical inequality.

For almost a year, protesters in Chile have been calling on their government to address the economic disparities that have plagued the nation since Pinochet’s dictatorship. Moderate demonstrations last October, which launched in response to a small hike in metro fare, sparked a series of protests that have since engulfed the entire nation. Aggrieved citizens have demanded a redesign of the pension system, education reform and equitable healthcare systems. Protesters will no longer be appeased by incremental reform. They want sweeping, systemic change.

Chileans took to the street in late October of 2019 with so much rage, passion and commitment that the movement earned the title of el estallido, the explosion. Peaceful protests quickly turned into violent clashes between demonstrators and police, leaving 30 dead and thousands wounded. The police’s violent crackdown did little to dissipate protests, which at times attracted as many as 1.2 million people and only began to wane after the onset of COVID-19.

At first, President Piñera brushed off protesters, claiming their destructive tactics rendered their pleas illegitimate. “This desire to destroy everything is not protest, it is crime,” he boldly proclaimed after a week of demonstrations.

Enraged by his dismissal, protesters expressed their fury through burned buildings, toppled streetlights, and sprawling destruction throughout Santiago, the capital. These explosive and sustained protests in Chile, which had been relatively stable for decades, attracted international attention, especially as police violence escalated. The UN issued a 30-page report detailing the torture, abuse and sexual assault committed by police against protesters, which attracted even more outcry from the international community in support of the various protest movements gaining traction in Chile. Piñera eventually acquiesced, agreeing in November of 2019 to hold a constitutional referendum.

After months of organized demonstrations, violent protests, police brutality and extreme political tension, protesters finally see a glimmer of hope for radical change. In a landslide referendum on October 25, Chileans voted to demolish the existing constitution and elect a body of representatives to negotiate its replacement.

According to protesters, the current constitution, which was drafted during Pinochet’s rule, allegedly perpetuates the inequalities and authoritarianism that defined Pinochet’s dictatorship. Pinochet and his supporters touted the document as a champion of free-market principles, the key to economic success. In a plebiscite in 1980, the document received 66% of the popular vote.

However, most Chileans who lived under Pinochet will attest to the climate of oppression, violence and fear that pressured citizens to vote against their interests. Pinochet had already banned political parties, enforced a heavy blanket of censorship and demonstrated his willingness to employ any means necessary  — arrest, torture, even murder — to silence dissidence.

Although Chile has been a democracy since 1990, many citizens argue that the current constitution has prevented the full actualization of democratic principles. Jorge Sharp, the mayor of Valparaiso and one of the foremost leftist representatives advocating for protesters, asserts that a document forged out of authoritarianism could never foster true democracy, and that “[r]ewriting the constitution is our chance to lay the foundation for a new society,” a new government that allows for all demographics to exercise their democratic rights. 

The binomial legislature that Chile inherited from Pinochet’s government fostered hyper-partisanship, allowing the center-left and center-right parties to become embroiled in their own economic debates and drift further away from the interests of their constituents. Realizing their elected officials would not address their concerns, such as health care reform, voters lost faith in their hard-won democracy and gradually stopped showing up at the polls. Even after replacing the two-party system with proportional representation, Chileans do not feel their voices are heard by the government and claim the interests of the top 1% continue to drown out the struggles of the majority.

For 30 years, the relic of Pinochet’s dictatorship has frustrated working-class Chileans’ endeavors toward upward mobility and, in many cases, attempts to keep their head above water. To international onlookers, 30 additional pesos (about 40 cents in USD) to take the metro may seem inconsequential, a necessary inconvenience for infrastructure upkeep, but for exasperated residents of Santiago, increasing fares signaled that their government remained either ignorant or apathetic of the working-class plight.

Originally scheduled for April of 2020, the referendum was postponed until October. In the intervening months, Chileans have become increasingly frustrated with the systemic inequalities that have characterized the past three decades. In an attempt to keep the national economy afloat, Piñera temporarily stalled all pension funds, which comprise the foundation of Chile’s current economic system. Despite Piñera’s efforts to curb the economic repercussions of the virus, the pandemic has caused a nationwide recession that has exacerbated socioeconomic inequality and food insecurity. Hungry and harried Chileans blame their government for mounting poverty, saying Piñera has provided “band-aids, not concrete solutions.”

In hopes of achieving more concrete solutions to these systemic issues, citizens flocked to the ballot box in October. In a sweeping victory, 78% of voters opted to scrap the Pinochet-era constitution and popularly elect a council of representatives to draft a new governing document.

When the news of the plebiscite’s results broke, tens of thousands of citizens celebrated in Santiago’s Plaza Italia, donning signs saying “Goodbye, General” and “Erasing your legacy will be our legacy.” Floating above the jubilance, neon lights on a nearby tower spelled out “rebirth,” a silent reminder of newfound national hope amidst booming fireworks and resounding cheers.

This referendum marks only the beginning of two long years of elections, negotiations and ongoing political tensions. In April 2021, citizens will vote on a 155-seat constitutional convention, which will consist of half men and half women, and include a mix of legislators and citizens. Constitutional representatives will then have a year to draft new proposals with a two-thirds majority of support.

Although citizens realize the lengthiness and difficulty of this process, they are buzzing with pride for their accomplishments and anticipation for all of the problems they intend to address. After electing representatives to the constitutional convention, discussions among the 155 delegates will likely focus on the rights of the Mapuche indigenous population, alternative strategies for collective bargaining, reevaluating water and land rights, improving privatized healthcare, revamping public education and redesigning pension plans. After drafting a new constitution, citizens will return to the polls and either choose to adopt this new Magna Carta or revert to Pinochet’s constitution. The outlook of a new constitution is still quite uncertain, and there is no consensus about how this representative council should address systemic inequalities. Nevertheless, political factions across the nation have begun to organize to elect representatives into the council. The only thing Chileans can agree on is that this referendum marks the beginning of their hard work toward lasting change.

In the months following the referendum, spokespeople for the protesters have already highlighted impending challenges in rewriting the constitution. Carolina Parraguez Pina, a Chilean constitutional lawyer, has drawn attention to the regulations that impede those without partisan affiliations from running for the constitutional candidacy. One rule requires candidates to acquire 0.4% of their district’s signatures before registering as a candidate, all of which must be on paper. In the time of COVID-19, requiring signatures on paper seems outdated, dangerous and designed to exclude candidates without preexisting funds or organization infrastructure.

Although Pina seeks to provide Chileans with a realistic impression of the challenges and limitations of the constitutional convention, she does not seek to diminish the successes of the referendum. “This new constitution may not be the most avant-garde, nor the most progressive, nor the most inclusive, nor the most beautiful in the world. But at least it will not be out of step with reality,” Pina asserts. A constitution that comes to fruition from the direct efforts of the people is still worth fighting for, she argues, even if it serves merely as the transition toward a more egalitarian and prosperous society.

Since the referendum and the resulting celebrations, demonstrations have subsided. In an effort to curb the spread of COVID-19, Chileans have avoided large gatherings. Like most countries, Chile remains mostly preoccupied with the current public health crisis; however, preparations for the April 2021 election have continued. 

Chile’s congress established quotas for the constitutional council, requiring that half of all delegates be female and reserving 23 seats for indigenous representatives. The deadline for registration is January 11. Once the list of candidates has been established, candidates will likely ramp up their campaigns, especially as vaccines for COVID-19 become available.

The road ahead will be fraught with political tension, reluctant compromise and ongoing demonstrations. Chileans still disagree about how their nation should best approach legislative and economic reform, but for the first time since ousting Pinochet in 1988, Chileans made united strides toward sweeping, long-lasting government reform.

Since the protests first began in fall of 2019, 460 protesters have lost an eye in the maelstrom of tear gas and rubber bullets. Although they will never be able to regain their vision, undo the mutilation of their faces, or unlive the trauma of their injuries, many say that this victory has made their loss worthwhile.

Even while suffering from a burst eyeball and a fractured skull, one protester asserts: “I am now conquering my demons, fears and nightmares, because I cannot let impunity win over democracy.”

Ongoing public health threats, financial instability, pressure from the right-wing establishment and internal disputes among protest movements continue to threaten the success of a radically progressive constitution. But Chileans have never yet wavered in their fight for change since protests erupted over a year ago. This referendum, while it marks a change in the trajectory of social and economic reform in Chile, is only the beginning. Happiness again appears on the horizon, but Chileans must remain committed to the struggle to successfully transform this opportunity into lasting change.

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Japan was once an economic powerhouse. Japanese companies were purchasing assets globally at an astronomical rate. In 1989, the Nikkei Stock Average culminated at a record of almost $40,000. This booming economy was met with turmoil as Japan’s asset bubble maxed out, resulting in disastrously low property prices. A significant amount of work migrated abroad to escape Japan’s economic downturn. The 1990s became a dark time for eager graduates awaiting a coveted position at major companies. To cut costs and protect older workers, companies offered a scant amount of jobs, shutting recent graduates out of the workforce. The labor market entered an employment “ice age.” To this day, those shut out of Japan’s job market in the 1990s are still struggling. They make up what is known as the “Lost Generation”. 

The Lost Generation began as a large population of hikikomori, a Japanese term used to describe adolescents who withdraw from society and confine themselves to their bedrooms. Failure to find employment resulted in ⅓ of the now 40-year-old population becoming shut-ins, or hikikomori. Today, there are around 613,000 hikikomori, according to a government survey in March 2019. The Lost Generation also presents the “8050s Problem”, which entails middle-aged, reclusive and unemployed Japanese still dependent on their elderly parents for housing and financial assistance. Social worker Reiko Katsube identified the 8050s Problem and strives to cultivate connections among this community through the Toyonoka Council of Social Welfare. Katsube recognizes that shut-ins deserve acceptance and a place within society. Katsube began reaching out to this community after the 1995 Kobe earthquake that left hundreds of thousands of people displaced. “Since the quake, we have been striving to nurture connections in the community to prevent lonely deaths,” Katsube says. Hikikomori have endured societal isolation and a discouraging labor market for far too long. Unfortunately, the Covid-19 pandemic has exacerbated these issues. 

Prior to the pandemic, the Japanese government realized the Lost Generation was in dire need of assistance after a May 2019 knife attack. A middle-aged man who had been without a job and living with his parents committed this brutal attack, killing two, injuring 18 others and subsequently stabbing himself to death. Japanese media alluded that this man had been suffering from the 8050s Problem, indicating that shut-ins may be a “ticking time bomb.”

The 1990’s employment ice age had extended into multiple decades and its consequences prompted the government to finally take action. Former Prime Minister Shinzo Abe’s government announced plans to create over 300,000 jobs within three years. 

Government action, however, is untimely. Experts predict that another major employment ice age will occur due to the pandemic. 2020’s April to June quarter indicated a 28% dip in the Japanese economy – the most drastic during the postwar period. According to Recruit Works Institute’s statistics, the class of 2021’s ratio of jobs per graduate will drop from 1.83 to 1.53. In an employment system characterized by the saying, “The doors only open once,” graduates may face a futile job market. Japan’s Chamber of Commerce reports that 78% of small to midsize businesses will cut back the number of new hires because of the pandemic. How will the Japanese government save its Lost Generation while preventing another one? 

Government intervention should include not only job creation but also psychological assistance. The government largely ignored psychological disorders until 2004, when a law was passed to support those with developmental disabilities. Many shut-ins struggle with hypersensitivity, compulsive tendencies, and lack of social awareness. If the government had addressed these disabilities earlier on, then the 8050s Problem would not be as pervasive today. Many elderly parents of these middle-aged shut-ins regret treating their children terribly because they were unaware of the psychological inflictions from long-term unemployment. Japan’s social welfare system must pursue efforts towards creating communities for shut-ins to share their experiences and network for employment opportunities, even if the pandemic limits connection to an online platform.  

Approximately 1 million Japanese in their mid-30s to mid-40s are experiencing long-term unemployment. Boosting incomes while meeting the domestic demand for labor requires significant cooperation among local and national governments and companies. Former Prime Minister Abe’s cabinet expressed willingness to use flexible macroeconomic policies, hoping to raise the minimum wage to 1,000  ¥ ($9.20) and create over 300,000 jobs. However, these measures entail real sacrifices. Securing economic stimulus funds requires serious social security reforms, including increasing revenue from wealthier older people and raising the age to receive public pension from 65 to 70yearsold. The new Prime Minister Yoshihide Suga is fairly popular among Japanese citizens. In a recent interview with Japan Forward, Abe describes Suga as a “results-oriented politician” who will continue the policies of the previous administration. 

Thousands of people apply for a national public service job, knowing that it provides a steady income. Not just any unemployed Japanese person can be granted a government-created job. To be hired as national public servants, the “ice age” generation must first pass government exams. Those who pass the exam must then undergo interviews. Out of the most recent 5,634 applicants who took the exam, only 157 will be offered a position, signifying a competition rate of 35.9 applicants to one job. This system seems much more cutthroat than the 1990s post-graduate job search, which may not resolve the problem. 

Japan’s ambitious plans for economic revival may flounder given the current circumstances. Emphasis on a flexible macroeconomic policy has entrenched Japan in a debt-to-GDP ratio of 200%. Experts worry that government safety nets will hinder structural reforms from advancing economic development, causing companies to lose profit in the long-term. In order to escape and prevent another employment ice age, Japan must shift its focus to reducing trade barriers, attracting more foreign direct investment, and expanding the labor market. 

As the workforce dwindles due to the aging population, the Lost Generation deserves a second chance to establish a career for themselves and repair Japan’s stagnant economy. 

The post Melting the Employment Ice Age: How Will Japan Save Its Lost Generation? appeared first on Glimpse from the Globe.

Countries confident in each other’s COVID-19 coping capabilities have established bilateral corridors, or “travel bubbles” with each other, where the usual 14-day quarantine is often waived. The latest duo to attempt this is Singapore and Hong Kong, in what both regions claim is the “world’s first” reciprocal travel bubble to be launched on November 22. The implications are critical, not just for the travel industry, but for regional economics, politics and global recovery.

Despite their statements, Hong Kong and Singapore’s travel bubble is not the first to emerge from the pandemic. The term was first popularized back in May, when the Baltic states of Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia opened their borders to each other. Citizens from the three countries could travel freely across borders, although those entering from countries other than the three neighboring Baltic states were required to enter into a 14-day quarantine. Other countries in the European Union soon followed by forming tentative bubbles of their own, though flare-ups of the virus later in the summer eventually led to the reversal of this decision. 

Similarly, Australia and New Zealand made a lot of noise in May when they announced that they would enact a travel bubble between the two countries in September. However, Australia’s spike in local cases in October has resulted in a one-way, unreciprocated relationship: New Zealanders are allowed into Australia without mandated quarantine, but not the other way around. Even in Asia, where the virus seems more tame, tourism-reliant countries have tried to negotiate bubbles — but many without success. Others have been forced to settle for essential business travel-only bubbles with tight restrictions. 

So how will the Singapore-Hong Kong bubble be any different? First, residents of both cities are exempt from any form of quarantine in the bilateral relationship. Leisure travel is welcomed; tourists can move freely in either city without providing an itinerary. Of course, travellers must pay out of their own pocket to test negative for the virus on both ends, though the relative latitude is the first of its kind in the Asia region, signalling nascent recovery.

A relationship between both areas was an obvious choice for one another. On a local level, the stringent COVID-19 measures in both have served each city well; community cases have consistently stayed in the single digits over the past month. Geographically, their small size means there is no need for differing rules across states, unlike in Australia. The small but robust economies of both are also highly dependent on trade, finance, and tourism. As an added bonus, both are former colonies of the British Empire with a Chinese majority population. Singapore’s Transport Minister noted that aside from logistics, governments also need to be aware of citizens’ sentiments — and this shared history between Hong Kong and Singapore may help to boost citizens’ perception of the other city. 

Digging deeper, establishing such a loose bubble would require the duo to have faith in each other’s health and administrative systems, ensuring that an outbreak in one city would be reported and contained before it spread into the other’s borders. With COVID-19, such mutual trust is essential as citizen’s lives and the well-being of both economies are on the line. Singapore and Hong Kong would find it easier to trust each other with so many similarities, on top of their “long-time close and cordial co-operation on many fronts” as emphasised by the Hong Kong government. 

Larger political considerations are involved as well. Hong Kong’s borders have been largely shut since February. Opening their borders to neighboring mainland China first would make sense, but may inflame Hong Kongers in the face of rising anti-mainland sentiments. China may also be unwilling to endanger their handle on the virus as Hong Kong still has a small number of cases. Overseas, Taiwan and Japan tops the list for Hong Kongers’ most beloved travel destinations. However, making a deal with either risks irritating Beijing due to China’s tense relationship with both East Asian territories. Thus, Singapore is a safe choice to begin with. 

On the other hand, Singapore has a number of green lanes with Asian countries that only permit business travel, including China. A bubble with Hong Kong would be a practical move to eventually break into the valuable tourism market of China. Opening up to each other would alleviate economic woes, as the travel industry affects numerous sectors. If the bubble remains successful, Singapore and Hong Kong might be able to woo the big fish that is China and kick-start their economies, which are both currently in a concerning recession. 

Aside from benefiting themselves, the pair’s travel bubble sets a model for recovery in the Asia Pacific. Though it’s a small bubble that involves small places and limited amounts of cross-border travel, other Asian countries ought to take note from this landmark experimental run, with the goal of eventually opening their own travel bubbles. When that happens, Singapore and Hong Kong’s statuses as major aviation hubs would help facilitate transit fights and ramp up travel in the area. As 80% of tourists to Asia Pacific come from within the region, the resurrection of Asia’s travel industry is vital to pulling countries out of COVID-19 induced recessions. However, much remains to be said about the efficacy of the bubble, as the relationship between Singapore and Hong Kong will commence later this month.

In a pre-vaccine COVID-19 world, reopening borders is an essential first step to recovery. Business travel has somewhat resumed in Asia, though it is infrequent and restricted. Singapore and Hong Kong’s deal for leisure travel is an unprecedented and bold move that indicates Asia’s head start in the race to normalcy. As these Asian countries navigate bubble negotiations, they would do well to learn from this case study of cross-border relations.

The post On the Road to Recovery: The Singapore and Hong Kong Travel Bubble appeared first on Glimpse from the Globe.

Once citing fewer than 10 COVID-19 cases a day, cases have risen to triple digits since August 14. With new clusters being attributed to gatherings of fundamentalist right-wing Christian churches and anti-government protests, these groups have come under fire for contributing to COVID-19’s spread. Underneath the cloak of health disputes, the health crisis in South Korea is incredibly telling of the expanding divide within the East Asian country’s political climate. 

Previously, South Korea was widely applauded for their handling of the COVID-19 pandemic, even coining their recovery strategy as “K-Quarantine”, projecting it as a successful world model. Though other countries such as New Zealand and Australia have also been able to tame the virus, South Korea is arguably the largest democracy to “reduce new daily cases by more than 90 percent from peak”. Their success is largely due to the three pillars of fast testing, thorough tracing, and mandatory isolation, all of which is communicated to citizens daily through official government messaging systems.

Now, amid the virus’s resurgence, churches have come under fire as being virus spreaders. In particular, the fundamentalist Christian church “Sarang Jeil,” meaning “love comes first” in Korean, has faced significant criticism. 

More than 1,100 cases of infection have been linked to the Sarang Jeil Church, second only to that of Shincheonji Church’s 5,200 cases in February. Its pastor, Jun Kwang-hun, has been known for his criticism of President Moon Jae-in, accusing him of being a North Korean sympathizer, as well as perpetuating and capitalizing on election fraud. Having tested positive for COVID-19, he has also battled criminal charges for spreading libel and obstructing epidemiological tracing by reportedly turning in false lists of church-goers used for contact tracing. Despite this, his devout following has not wavered, with members of the conservative right-wing blatantly disregarding social distancing measures and partaking in anti-government rallies. 

On August 15th, thousands gathered to protest President Moon Jae-in’s policies, carrying pro-South Korea banners, American flags, and cut-outs of President Trump. The conservative protesters advocated for President Moon to step down, claiming that he was “handing South Korea over to North Korea”. 

Though exacerbated by the rise of COVID-19 and subsequent economic hardships, the association of Christian fundamentalism and the conservative right in South Korea is not new. Rooted in Protestant American missionaries, Christian fundamentalists have historically aligned themselves with the South Korean conservative right’s’ fervently anti-communist stance and their strong opposition to the efforts to open diplomatic engagement with the North.

In the early 2000s, participation in the Christian fundamentalist movement skyrocketed as other churches started catering towards more “affluent urban professions,” alienating the lower class. As a result, the fundamentalist church bases grew. Sarang Jeil, for example, has a base largely made up of older, lower-income South Koreans, who “took the ostracization they experienced amid the changes South Korean Protestantism went through in the late 90s and turned it into a political holy movement,“ says Kim Jin-ho, a pastor and researcher at the Christian Institute for the 3rd Era.

The rise of COVID-19 cases has only deepened the existing divide in South Korea. Pastor Jun and the church have accused the government of intentionally infecting church members and publishing false COVID-19 test results to cast the brunt of the blame on churches. Many churchgoers have also criticized the government for their mishandling of the situation, with church-going patients citing that they “treated me like a ball of germs, not a citizen of the country.” Meanwhile, the government has also publicly criticized churches for being inconsiderate and senseless. 

Amid the COVID-19 pandemic, tensions have been exacerbated by an ongoing recession, with the South Korean economy suffering a shrinkage of 3.3% in GDP between April and June. The recession has impacted the lower class disproportionately, brewing strong dissent from the right. Many churches also rely on donations from church attendance, furthering their opposition against government attempts to restrict public attendance. 

Politically, the government’s clash with right-wing churches has only put President Moon’s administration under further scrutiny. As of August 14, his Gallup Poll approval rating dropped to 39% amidst allegations of corruption and sexual harassment allegations within the Democratic party. In addition, he began receiving heavy criticism from the right after his unsuccessful efforts to rebuild South Korea’s relationship with North Korea. Being born to North Korean refugees himself, President Moon’s original campaign policies were centered around North Korea rapprochement to establish more cordial relationships between the two countries. Since groundbreaking reconciliatory actions between the North and South in 2018 when President Moon became the first South Korean leader to be ceremonially received, relations between the two countries have deteriorated after South Korea failed to mediate nuclear agreements between the United States and North Korea. South Korea has continuously made efforts to make peace with their Northern counterpart, but their unsuccessful attempts have divided the citizens, with the conservative right accusing President Moon of being a “communist sympathizer” and advocating for his removal. Left to choose between reconciliation with North Korea and maintaining diplomatic relations with the United States, President Moon remains stuck between “a rock and a hard place” as the resulting political divide continues to deepen. 

Going forward, South Korea is faced with difficult decisions between balancing virus prevention regulations, economic recovery, and managing domestic dissatisfaction with the government. Though the number of infections is now lowering, domestic political tensions still persist, and South Korea must tread carefully to avoid complete political upheaval. 

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