The first decade of the 21st century has seen a dramatic reversal of fortune in the relative prestige of different political and economic models. Ten years ago, on the eve of the puncturing of the dotcom bubble, the US held the high ground. Its democracy was widely emulated, if not always loved; its technology was sweeping the world; and lightly regulated "Anglo-Saxon" capitalism was seen as the wave of the future. The United States managed to fritter away that moral capital in remarkably short order: the Iraq war and the close association it created between military invasion and democracy promotion tarnished the latter, while the Wall Street financial crisis laid waste to the idea that markets could be trusted to regulate themselves.

China, by contrast, is on a roll. President Hu Jintao's rare state visit to Washington this week comes at a time when many Chinese see their weathering of the financial crisis as a vindication of their own system, and the beginning of an era in which US-style liberal ideas will no longer be dominant. State-owned enterprises are back in vogue, and were the chosen mechanism through which Beijing administered its massive stimulus. The automatic admiration for all things American that many Chinese once felt has given way to a much more nuanced and critical view of US weaknesses - verging, for some, on contempt. It is thus not surprising that polls suggest far more Chinese think their country is going in the right direction than their American counterparts.

But what is the Chinese model? Many observers casually put it in an "authoritarian capitalist" box, along with Russia, Iran and Singapore. But China's model is sui generis; its ­specific mode of governance is difficult to describe, much less emulate, which is why it is not up for export.

The most important strength of the Chinese political system is its ability to make large, complex decisions quickly, and to make them relatively well, at least in economic policy. This is most evident in the area of infrastructure, where China has put into place airports, dams, high-speed rail, water and electricity systems to feed its growing industrial base. Contrast this with India, where every new investment is subject to blockage by trade unions, lobby groups, peasant associations and courts. India is a law-governed democracy, in which ordinary people can object to government plans; China's rulers can move more than a million people out of the Three Gorges Dam flood plain with little recourse on their part.

Nonetheless, the quality of Chinese government is higher than in Russia, Iran, or the other authoritarian regimes with which it is often lumped - precisely because Chinese rulers feel some degree of accountability towards their population. That accountability is not, of course, procedural; the authority of the Chinese Communist party is limited neither by a rule of law nor by democratic elections. But while its leaders limit public criticism, they do try to stay on top of popular discontents, and shift policy in response. They are most attentive to the urban middle class and powerful business interests that generate employment, but they respond to outrage over egregious cases of corruption or incompetence among lower-level party cadres too.

Indeed, the Chinese government often overreacts to what it believes to be public opinion precisely because, as one diplomat resident in Beijing remarked, there are no institutionalised ways of gauging it, such as elections or free media. Instead of calibrating a sensible working relationship with Japan, for example, China escalated a conflict over the detention of a fishing boat captain last year - seemingly in anticipation of popular anti-Japanese sentiment.

Americans have long hoped China might undergo a democratic transition as it got wealthier, and before it became powerful enough to become a strategic and political threat. This seems unlikely, however. The government knows how to cater to the interests of Chinese elites and the emerging middle classes, and builds on their fear of populism. This is why there is little support for genuine multi-party democracy. The elites worry about the example of democracy in Thailand - where the election of a populist premier led to violent conflict between his supporters and the establishment - as a warning of what could happen to them.

Ironically for a country that still claims to be communist, China has grown far more unequal of late. Many peasants and workers share little in the country's growth, while others are ruthlessly exploited. Corruption is pervasive, which exacerbates existing inequalities. At a local level there are countless instances in which government colludes with developers to take land away from hapless peasants. This has contributed to a pent-up anger that explodes in many thousands of acts of social protest, often violent, each year.

The Communist party seems to think it can deal with the problem of inequality through improved responsiveness on the part of its own hier­archy to popular pressures. China's great historical achievement during the past two millennia has been to create high-quality centralised government, which it does much better than most of its authoritarian peers. Today, it is shifting social spending to the neglected interior, to boost consumption and to stave off a social explosion. I doubt whether its approach will work: any top-down system of accountability faces unsolvable problems of monitoring and responding to what is happening on the ground. Effective accountability can only come about through a bottom-up process, or what we know as democracy. This is not, in my view, likely to emerge soon. However, down the road, in the face of a major economic downturn, or leaders who are less competent or more corrupt, the system's fragile legitimacy could be openly challenged. Democracy's strengths are often most evident in times of adversity.

However, if the democratic, market-oriented model is to prevail, Americans need to own up to their own mistakes and misconceptions. Washington's foreign policy during the past decade was too militarised and unilateral, succeeding only in generating a self-defeating anti-Americanism. In economic policy, Reaganism long outlived its initial successes, producing only budget deficits, thoughtless tax-cutting and inadequate financial regulation.

These problems are to some extent being acknowledged and addressed. But there is a deeper problem with the American model that is nowhere close to being solved. China adapts quickly, making difficult decisions and implementing them effectively. Americans pride themselves on constitutional checks and balances, based on a political culture that distrusts centralised government. This system has ensured individual liberty and a vibrant private sector, but it has now become polarised and ideologically rigid. At present it shows little appetite for dealing with the long-term fiscal challenges the US faces. Democracy in America may have an inherent legitimacy that the Chinese system lacks, but it will not be much of a model to anyone if the government is divided against itself and cannot govern. During the 1989 Tiananmen protests, student demonstrators erected a model of the Statue of Liberty to symbolise their aspirations. Whether anyone in China would do the same at some future date will depend on how Americans address their problems in the present.

The writer is a fellow at the Freeman Spogli Institute for International Studies at Stanford University. His latest book, The Origins of Political Order, will be published in the spring.

There are more laws and international treaties designed to protect human rights in conflict zones than ever before. Yet civilians continue to pay the ultimate price, with women and children frequently caught in the crossfire. At the beginning of the 20th century, there was one civilian casualty for every eight or nine military casualties, said Richard Goldstone, the South African jurist who played a key role in helping his country overcome apartheid, served as the chief prosecutor of the International Criminal Tribunals on Rwanda and the former Yugoslavia, and became a household name in 2009 for his controversial fact-finding mission after an Israeli offensive in the Gaza Strip. During World War II, the ratio increased to 1-to-1. Today, after what was, Goldstone said, a "very bloody century," every combatant casualty is matched by nine civilian deaths.

What explains this? Goldstone joined Stanford historian James Campbell and Peter Berkowitz, a political scientist, to grapple with this paradox as part of Stanford's Ethics and War Series, co-sponsored by the Center for International Security and Cooperation.

One reason behind this seeming disconnect is that gaping anomalies remain in the international legal system. It is a "very recent development that international laws have been designed to protect civilians and civilian objects," said Goldstone. Another cause of the paradox is that the most critical issue in determining whether the death of a civilian constitutes a war crime is highly subjective. The so-called principle of proportionality, defined by the Law of Armed Conflict, requires that parties refrain from attacks resulting in excessive civilian casualties. But it is up to "reasonable commanders" to judge whether such violence is justified, said Berkowitz, a senior fellow at the Hoover Institution.

Compounding the problem is that in many of the nations where crimes against civilians may have been committed, there is little interest or even open hostility toward allowing international fact-finding missions to make an assessment. Moreover, many of the transnational organizations designed to help protect civilians simply fail to do so. Goldstone said the UN should be commended for assisting the injured in Gaza but "stands condemned for ignoring the plight of Tamils."

A better system might include requiring greater education in military affairs for human rights lawyers, Berkowitz said. Goldstone's report on the Gaza conflict, Berkowitz argued, failed to properly evaluate whether the civilian cost was a military necessity, noting that Goldstone did not assess whether "reasonable" Israeli commanders had intended to avoid civilian casualties. A better understanding of military procedure, Berkowitz suggested, might have helped Goldstone and others in a similar situation make that kind of assessment.

The United States may also have a role to play in filling in the gaps in the international justice system. Campbell said that the Geneva Convention of 1949, which extended legal protection to war victims, was largely an American construction. Indeed, Berkowitz said that America has "special burdens" to spread liberal democracy across the world. However, the U.S. was reluctant to sign the Convention on the Rights of the Child, ratified by 194 U.N. nations that would protect women and children, said Helen Stacy, a senior fellow at the Center for Democracy, Development, and the Rule of Law.

How some of these issues will be resolved is still an open question. Human rights laws are complex and evolving, said Campbell. "Just as freedom is a constant struggle, so is international humanitarian law," he said. The important part was that the legal system continues to grapple with these issues. The struggle toward an effective system of international justice is being "waged in our country," he said, "in dialogues like the ones we are having today."

A memorial event will be held at 4:30 p.m. on Friday, February 18, in Encina Hall, to pay tribute to the life of Walter H. Shorenstein and his legacy to contemporary Asian studies at Stanford University.

Mr. Shorenstein, a prominent San Francisco real estate developer and a long-time supporter of the Democratic Party, passed away peacefully on June 24, 2010, at the age of 95. Former House Speaker Nancy Pelosi (D-San Francisco) described him as a "man of extraordinary vision, leadership and wisdom." A firm believer in the importance of strong ties between the United States and Asia, Mr. Shorenstein endowed the Walter H. Shorenstein Asia-Pacific Research Center (Shorenstein APARC) in his name in 2005. He had been a strong supporter of the center since 1998. Mr. Shorenstein had also been a member of the Freeman Spogli Institute for International Studies Advisory Board or its predecessor organization since 1992.

During the memorial program, faculty, friends, and family will share memories and offer remarks about Mr. Shorenstein's important early and steadfast support of Shorenstein APARC, and his continuing legacy. A reception with light refreshments will follow immediately after the memorial program, during which the short film Citizen Shorenstein will be shown.

Secretary of Defense Robert M. Gates’ January 6 announcement of major budget and program changes at the Pentagon was a watershed: it canceled several multi-billion dollar weapons programs, redirected $100 billion from old programs to new ones, and laid the groundwork for reducing the active-duty size of America’s ground forces after a draw-down in Afghanistan. But in light of the rumors that Gates will step down sometime this year, his remarks soon after the announcement also helped to consolidate one particular aspect of his reformist legacy: managing our nation’s vast military weapons budget.

Gates has navigated the Byzantine relationships that weave throughout the government and the private sector, including his own office, the military services, the Congress, and the defense industry. Over the last four years, he has personally assumed control of  the Pentagon’s resource allocation process. His legacy will be an instructive playbook for several reasons.

First, accountability for the development and production of major programs stops with the Secretary; delegation does not means abdication. Gates has earned similar plaudits elsewhere: he took personal responsibility for the earliest and most public crisis of his first year, the unacceptable conditions at Walter Reed. As steward of the nation’s defense budget, he has been equally unflagging. When he lost faith in the Joint Strike Fighter’s program management, he dismissed the officer in charge and replaced him with a hard-charging 3-star general to signal the seriousness of attention with which weapons costs and performance must be treated. This, in stark contrast to business-as-usual at the Pentagon, where civilian subordinates negotiate with the military services, with the Secretary investing personal resources in only a handful of the most publicly-contentious programs.

Second, timing matters, and Gates uses timing for a crucial purpose: to promote transparency and a public dialogue about his decisions. He puts distance between his Pentagon announcements and the annual roll-out of the President’s budget request.  Although his changes will be reflected in the President’s budget, these pre-announcements allow him and the military to initiate a conversation about military spending early, and before the President’s name is affixed to it. His adroit sensitivity to timing does the nation a real service, allowing us to focus on and debate how we equip our armed forces independent of the vast competing priorities on the political agenda. 

These two lessons have led to a critical third: the importance of a constructive and open relationship with Congress. Congress has not and will not go along with every Gates proposal. But Gates realized early on that working with Congress on the often vexing troubles associated with our nation’s military-industrial complex carries far more advantages than drawbacks. His ability to generate consensus on controversial program decisions, such as halting production of the F-22 and canceling the development of the Expeditionary Fighting Vehicle, were against-the-odds triumphs over pork-barrel politics. 

Every Secretary of Defense faces a similar budgetary conundrum as Secretary Gates currently does—the need to control defense spending while maintaining a first-rate and adaptable force—but the record of cutting unnecessary programs is mixed at best. Though Dick Cheney won praise for canceling the Navy’s egregiously over-cost A-12 stealth aircraft, his attempt to terminate the Marine Corps’s V-22 Osprey stalled in Congress. Even the A-12 kill was a pyrrhic victory, as his decision sparked such intense litigation that the legal dispute over the aircraft’s cancelation persists to this day, 20 years later. Indeed, the Supreme Court heard one aspect of the case this week. 

Donald Rumsfeld took full advantage of rising defense budgets to direct investments in the critical areas of space, missile defense, ISR, but transformation in theory became addition in practice. The defense budget needn’t have been cut as the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan raged, but the Pentagon was too slow to adapt to actual war-fighting needs. Rumsfeld successfully canceled the Army’s overweight artillery system known as Crusader, but his relationship with Congress, even Republicans, was often strained, and his personal oversight of hundreds of billions of dollars in over-cost and under-performing weapons was episodic at best. 

All the technology and weapons programs in the world will not win a war: only an expertly trained military with top leadership can do that. But Secretary Gates will leave a legacy of vigilance over our nation’s weapons of war. His successor would do well to emulate it.

The first Liberation Technology seminar of the winter quarter on January 6, featured Jonathan Zittrain, Professor of Law at Harvard Law School and co-founder of the Berkman Center for Internet & Society at Harvard University. Zittrain focused his talk entitled, Minds for Sale, on the variety of online platforms that harness the wisdom of crowds today, and closed with a discussion of the implications of these platforms. Categorizing these new tools by the breadth of their user base, Zittrain began by describing the platforms that pay the most money per task, require the most skill, and subsequently have the least participation. Key examples of these platforms are listed below, and organized by their decreasing level on skill.

•  Xprize Foundation attempts to prompt radical breakthroughs through competitions for large quantities of prize money.
• InnoCentive creates a marketplace between engineers and scientists to encourage innovation.
• LiveOps, which bills itself as a contact center cloud, has developed a large set of independent contractors who are designated specific tasks when they sign in to the site. They may be assigned to answer calls placed to a restaurant or emergency hotline or to make political calls on behalf of Liveops clients.
• Samasource offers "dignified digital work for women, children and refugees" located in developing countries.
• Amazon Mechanical Turk (also known as Artificial Artificial Intelligence) allows users to participate in anonymous, minimally paid tasks. These tasks can be submitted by any party and are highly disaggregated among hundreds or thousands of users, each of whom receives a payout of between approximately one to fifteen cents for completing the task.
• Soylent, which calls itself "a word processor with a crowd inside" embeds workers from Mechanical Turk into Microsoft Word. When users install the site's Shortn add-in into Microsoft Word, they can use the tool to have written samples shortened in two minutes. In order to achieve this, the written sample is disaggregated by paragraphs, and each paragraph is shortened within two minutes by a "Turker"-a user who accepts the task on Mechanical Turk.
• Microtask enables disaggregating previously sensitive data to be work processed from a scanned image. The ultimate goal of this group is to put distributed work into video and computer games. For now, they disaggregate larger tasks into two-second tasks that can be distributed across a crowd.
• Games With A Purpose (GWAP) has a game-like platform designed to get users to complete disaggregated tasks for virtual points, rather than for actual remuneration. One of its more popular activities quickly attracted 23,000 players who contributed 4.1 million labels to images they were presented with in The ESP Game. Many players routinely play more than 20 hours a week.

Next, Zittrain moved on to offer some additional examples, hypothetical scenarios and questions that highlight some of his own concerns about the potential of these technologies. One key question is whether this market may be too efficient at linking up solvers and payers, if certain tasks are not in fact beneficial for society. After all, it was highly contentious when Texas governor Rick Perry set up video cameras on Texas' border with Mexico and invited people to watch the video feeds and report if they saw anything suspicious. Similarly, a site called InternetEyes allows users to watch video feed from CCTV cameras in the UK for free, offering the chance to "earn reward money, have a chance at reducing crime, and potentially become a hero and save lives," instead of actual compensation.

In another example, the University of Colorado Police Department recently offered a $50 reward for identification of students shown to be smoking marijuana in photos from a large April 20 gathering. Hypothetically, the Iranian government could use Turkers to identify Iranian protestors through national ID photographs in the very same way; by Zittrain's calculations, this task could be disaggregated and carried out quickly at a cost of only $17,000 per protester identified.

Another cluster of issues relates to the use of anonymous users to carry out disaggregated tasks that may have the effect of exerting influence on others. For example, Turkers were recently offered the opportunity to write a positive 5 out of 5 review for a product on a website, which hundreds accepted and completed for a few cents at a time. Users on SubvertandProfit.com are paid to "Like" something on Facebook, "Digg" something, or show their approval of a site or product via some other social network. The users are remunerated for their effort, and the site also profits. Taking this a step further, these platforms also enable users to pay people to evince opinions on legislative issues they do not actually care about. For example, health insurers were recently caught paying Facebook gamers virtual currency to oppose the health reform bill. By enabling any task to be disaggregated and monetized, these new platforms can have highly controversial and unethical implications.

On January 18, the Honorable Bob Rae, Liberal Member of Parliament for Toronto Centre and the foreign affairs critic for the Liberal Party of Canada was the featured speaker at a special CDDRL seminar. Rae addressed the Stanford community on the topic of his latest book Exporting Democracy, published in November 2010 by McClelland & Stewart. CDDRL Deputy Director, Kathryn Stoner, welcomed Rae to Stanford and Ben Rowswell, Visiting Scholar and Canadian "diplomat in residence," introduced the distinguished Rae stressing the timeliness of this topic.

This occasion marked the debut of Rae's book to a US audience and drew a sizable crowd interested in learning more about the MP's views on the role of Western powers in statebuilding and democracy promotion efforts abroad. Based on his personal experience engaging in diplomatic missions in Iraq, Afghanistan, Sri Lanka, and across the Middle East, Rae was confronted with the limits of power and democratic ideals in foreign lands.

 His discussion focused on the theoretical and practical analysis of the role of democracy in statebuilding that is the foundation of his argument in Exporting Democracy. Drawing  on the writing of 18th century philosophers, Thomas Paine and Edmund Burke, Rae examined the tensions between natural law and justice versus customs and tradition that continue to dominate the debate in modern day statecraft.

 Rae's experience observing democracy promotion abroad allowed him to recognize the importance of upholding democratic values, while also respecting the idea that democracy cannot be viewed as the "gold standard" for all. "From a Western perspective the debate suffers from the notion that the idea of democracy has emerged as perfectly natural and an automatic assumption of our daily lives. In reality it has generally been accompanied by periods of great conflict and can take hundreds of years to bear fruit as evidenced by the American and Canadian experience."

Rae emphasized that the best way Western countries can promote democracy is by helping other countries develop their own solutions to their own problems. 

Rae's sensitivity to the consequences of Western interventions, his belief in the principles of human rights, and his testimony to the importance of humility and pragmatism in our efforts of statebuilding abroad, offered the Stanford community a new perspective on the effectiveness of the global democracy movement.