The Middle East seems to occupy all the attention of our foreign-policymakers these days. But there are other parts of this globe that are probably more important, and potentially no less dangerous.

One of these is the Taiwan Strait. That narrow passage of water separates China from Taiwan, in Chinese minds a renegade province that must eventually be returned to its control.

The Chinese communist leadership dreads the prospect that Taiwan's democratically elected government might make the island's de facto independence a legal reality. China's heated military buildup in recent years is largely focused on creating the muscle to intimidate Taiwan and to seize the island if that fails.

A war across the Taiwan Strait makes the American top-five list of security dangers. The U.S. commitment to defend Taiwan is ambiguous, but it is not hard to imagine us being drawn into a conflict. And a war in the strait could easily expand to include Japan.

That is why the mayor of Taipei, Taiwan's capital city, got such a rousing welcome last week in Washington. Ma Ying-Jeou, or Mayor Ma as he is popularly known, does not threaten to upset the apple cart of cross-strait relations by pushing Chinese buttons with talk of independence, as the Taiwanese government loves to do.

Sitting down with Ma for breakfast as he made his way home to Taiwan, I could see why he was received with open arms at senior levels of the Bush administration. Ma, the leader of the opposition Kuomintang (KMT) party, is the front-runner in polls to win the 2008 presidential elections. He is articulate, a Harvard Law School graduate with movie-star looks and a reassuring message for Americans.

"We support maintenance of the status quo, which is also U.S. policy,'' he told me.

A KMT-led government would not waver from the "Five Nos,'' a pledge made by President Chen Shui-bian not to take steps toward a declaration of independence. He offers in addition a program of ``Five Dos'' should it return to power.

First, the KMT hopes to resume negotiations with the mainland, based on a 1992 agreement that while there is one China, there are different interpretations of what that means. Second, it will try to reach a peace agreement, lasting from 30 to 50 years. Third, the KMT would expand the already massive economic ties between Taiwan and the mainland into a possible cross-strait common market. Fourth, the KMT would try to create a formula to allow Taiwan to participate in international affairs, including global organizations, short of being an independent state. Last, it would expand cross-strait cultural and education exchanges.

Ma downplays the threat from Beijing these days. "Their goal is no trouble,'' he told me. "They are not interested in unification right now.'' But, he said, the Chinese do worry about "the further drifting away of Taiwan.'' That drift, he fears, could inadvertently force a conflict that might drag in the United States.

That charge is aimed at the government in Taipei. And it is a concern shared by U.S. officials who are visibly unhappy these days with Chen. The warm reception for Ma was intended to send that message to Taipei -- and also to Beijing, ahead of the visit next month of Chinese leader Hu Jintao.

Reassuring as Ma's words may be, there are reasons to be cautious about his message and his prospects.

Taiwanese nationalism may rattle the status quo, but so does China's military buildup. As does the failure of Taiwan to adopt a significant U.S. defense package, offered five years ago, to counter that buildup. The KMT blames the current government for this impasse but the party, which now controls the legislature, has blocked passage of the budget.

Deepening economic ties with China are a market reality, as Taiwan's electronics industry shifts production to low-wage China. But ultimately that could make them another Hong Kong, a satellite of Beijing that must bend to its political will.

Taiwanese are deeply divided. The KMT, the party of mainlanders who fled to the island after the communist victory in 1949, ruled Taiwan for decades as the exiled government of China. But democracy, which came in the 1990s, brought to power native Taiwanese who want to preserve their separate identity.

Ma may prove to be a political leader who plays better in Washington than back home. But if Taiwanese embrace his vision of the status quo at the ballot box, all the better. Ultimately, his mandate must come from Taiwanese, not Americans.

There was no Orange-style revolution in Belarus following the 19 March presidential elections. But there may have been the beginning of a revolution of the spirit that will bring the last tyranny in Europe to an end. Observers should not lament the "failure" of revolution but should hail the beginning of a genuine democratic movement, which is stronger today than it was just a few years ago.

From the beginning of this campaign, there was little sign of a real contest. Lukashenka could have won a free and fair election: Strong economic growth and social stability might have guaranteed him half of the vote or so, had the vote actually been counted. But a free and fair vote carried the risk of defeat, however remote, and the ghost of the Orange Revolution in Ukraine in 2004 fueled hysteria within the regime. Consequently, just before the vote, the government criminalized opposition-related activity and began to arrest election monitors and activists from nongovernmental organizations on charges of terrorism.

Yet Lukashenka wanted some legitimacy for his reelection and therefore allowed opposition candidates to participate. Surprisingly, two challengers, the leader of the united opposition, Alyaksandr Milinkevich, and the former rector of the Belarusian State University, Alyaksandr Kazulin, refused to bow to the dictator and decided to play by their own rules. Their 30-minute campaign speeches on state TV (that is how much exposure to alternative opinions an ordinary TV viewer in Belarus has had in five years) were devoted not much to the issues but to attacking Lukashenka's character - an act previously unthinkable in a country where one official once declared Lukashenka to be "a bit higher than God." Both candidates emphasized freedom and democracy rather that day-to-day issues in their messages and found much sympathy, to the surprise of observers. Thousands turned out on the streets to hear speeches from opposition candidates, numbers that were unthinkable even in Minsk just a year ago.

Lukashenka saw the crowds as well and got nervous. Kazulin, whose particularly scathing attacks made him an instant celebrity, was beaten up by riot police. Dozens of observers and reporters were denied visas, expelled, or even arrested and charged with helping to plot a coup. State TV propped up its propaganda, and the KGB began to discover one plot after another every several days. In the last revelation, the head of the KGB claimed that the opposition would poison the tap water in Minsk using decomposing rats. And dozens of opposition activists with experience in street protests were rounded up in the run-up to the vote. Yet even in the face of these repressive tactics, Lukashenka's autocratic regime failed to deter people from mobilizing on the streets after the vote to denounce the fraudulent results.

On 19 March, at least 20,000 people took to the streets to protest the announcement of a "smashing" victory for Lukashenka, who was declared winner with 83 percent of the vote cast. And the protesters did not stop there, organizing an around-the-clock vigil on the central square of Minsk to demand annulment of the vote and new elections.

To be sure, the size of the protests was nowhere near the crowds that turned out in the streets in Kyiv a year and half ago. Yet thousands of Belarusians braved not only the blizzard but explicit threats of jail and even the death penalty made by the KGB on the eve of elections. Most of them faced immediate dismissal from state jobs or university if found in the crowd or even caught checking an opposition website. And they barely had means to communicate with each other due to suspension of most of the opposition press and an almost total blockade of the Internet and mobile communications. Could one have expected a protest of more than just a handful of dissidents in these, almost Soviet-style conditions?

SMALL VICTORIES

In retrospect, one has to admit that the protest was doomed. The opposition knew it did not win the elections and hence did not attempt to stage a revolution as such: that is, to attempt to snatch power from Lukashenka by force. Instead, the protest turned into a show of defiance, an attempt to get the sympathy and attention of fellow countrymen. Day after day, the numbers dwindled, not least because each new day brought the protesters closer to an imminent show of force by the government. It came on the morning of 23 March, when people on the square were surrounded and thrown into police trucks, then taken to jails and sentenced to various prison terms.

The dramatic end of the protest also highlighted an unpleasant fact for the Belarusian opposition: A combination of fear imposed by the government on one part society, and acceptance of the regime by another part, still limits its appeal and following. The streets of Minsk these days were full of pictures of solidarity and defiance, but also of indifference from passers-by and loathing for the protesters from the regime's supporters.

Lukashenka's opponents still have a long way to go to communicate their message to the entire society - and will have to do so in an even more repressive political climate than they have endured so far. But failures and disappointments shall not distract attraction from the opposition's successes in this campaign and afterward. It achieved unity and presented society with a leader whom many accepted as a credible alternative to Lukashenka. It invigorated the network of democratic activists, who braved certain repression and imprisonment. It spurred public debate, and the quest for free information was boosted even when the regime knocked out independent newspapers by the dozens. And it proved to the society and the entire world that support for democratic change in Belarus is not limited to just a handful of fanatics.

The March events may be the beginning of a newly invigorated fight for democracy in Belarus as much as it can trigger a new, more severe round of oppression from the regime. The West cannot stop paying attention. Those struggling for democracy, especially those already in jail, deserve our solidarity; families of political prisoners need support; and recently expanded democratic assistance programs, especially efforts to expand access to independent media within Belarus, must be sustained, not cut, now that the election is over.

Democrats in Belarus defied expectations and demonstrated that they exist, they have some popular support, and they are willing to take risks in their fight for freedom. Now, more than ever, supporters of freedom in the West need to stand with them.

Stanford, California - If the deal to supply India with nuclear technologies goes through, future generations may remember it for quite different reasons than the debate over nuclear proliferation.

Nuclear power emits no carbon dioxide, the leading cause of global warming. And India, like most developing countries, has not been anxious to spend money to control its emissions of this and other so- called greenhouse gases.

India is embracing nuclear power for other reasons - because it can help the country solve its chronic failure to supply the electricity needed for a burgeoning economy. But in effect, the deal would marry their interest in power with ours in protecting the planet.

India is growing rapidly. In recent years its economy has swelled at more than 7 percent per year, and many analysts believe it is poised to grow even faster in the coming decade.

The economic growth is feeding a voracious appetite for electricity that India's bankrupt utilities are unable to satisfy. Blackouts are commonplace. Farmers, who account for about two-fifths of all the power consumed, can barely rely on getting power for half of every day. In industrial zones, the lifeblood of India's vibrant economy, unstable power supplies are such trouble that the biggest companies usually build their own power plants.

So most analysts expect that the demand for electricity will rise at about 10 percent a year. (For comparison, U.S. power demand notches up at just 2 percent annually.)

Over the past decade, about one third of India's new power supplies came from natural gas and hydro electricity. Both those sources have been good news for global warming - natural gas is the least carbon- intensive of all the fossil fuels, and most of India's hydroelectric dams probably emit almost no greenhouse gases.

However, the bloom is coming off those greenhouse-friendly roses. New supplies of natural gas cost about twice what Indians are used to paying, and environmental objections are likely to scupper the government's grand plans for new hydro dams.

That leaves coal - the most carbon-intensive of all fossil fuels. Already more than half of India's new power supplies come from coal, and that could grow rapidly.

Traditionally, the coal sector was plagued by inefficiencies. State coal mines were notoriously dangerous and inefficient. Coal-fired plants in western provinces, far from the coal fields and vulnerable to the dysfunctional rail network, often came within days of shutting operations due to lack of coal.

All that is changing. Private and highly efficient coal mines are grabbing growing shares of the coal market. Upgrades to the nation's high-tension power grid is making it feasible to generate electricity with new plants installed right at the coal mines.

These improvements make coal the fuel to beat.

So the deal struck with President George W. Bush matters. At the moment, India has just 3 gigawatts of nuclear plants connected to the grid. Government planners envision that nuclear supply will grow to 30 GW over the next generation, but that will remain a fantasy without access to advanced nuclear technologies and, especially, nuclear fuels - such as those offered under the deal with the Bush administration.

By 2020, even after discounting for the government's normal exuberance in its forecasts, a fresh start for nuclear power could increase nuclear generating capacity nearly ten-fold.

By displacing coal, that would avoid about 130 million tons of carbon dioxide per year (for comparison, the full range of emission cuts planned by the European Union under the Kyoto Protocol will total just 200 million tons per year).

The effort, if successful, would eclipse the scheme under the Kyoto Protocol, known as the Clean Development Mechanism, that was designed to reward developing countries that implement projects to reduce their emissions of greenhouse gases. The largest 100 of these CDM projects, in total, won't reduce emissions as much as a successful effort to help India embrace safe nuclear power.

The benefits in slowing global warming are not enough to make the deal a winner. Care is needed to tame the risks of proliferation, especially those connected from India's system of breeder reactors that make more weapons-capable fuel than they consume. And complementary efforts, led by Indians, are needed to fix the trouble in India's electricity sector that have so far discouraged private investors.

None of this will be easy. There are no silver bullets in cooling the greenhouse.

What is important is that the deal is not just a one-off venture, as the administration's backers, on the defensive, have suggested. It could frame a new approach to technology sharing and managing a more proliferation proof fuel cycle that, in turn, will multiply the benefits of a cooler climate.

Coal-rich China is among the many other countries that would welcome more nuclear power and whose emissions of carbon dioxide are growing fast - even faster than India's.

Quite accidentally, it seems, the Bush administration has stumbled on part of an effective strategy to slow global warming. Now it should marry that clever scheme overseas with an effective plan here at home.