One of my first reporting trips as a young correspondent was to sneak into Burma. I vividly remember walking through dimly lit and almost silent Rangoon, as we then called the capital, speaking in hushed corners to democracy activists. Roads were so empty that I watched rats skipping along them, undisturbed, in the evenings. To hear about the repressive politics, I learned to wait on low stools in shabby tea rooms for monsoon downpours. Only when the rain thundered, and people knew that for a spell the police or spies could not eavesdrop, would they open up to me. That was a quarter of a century ago. By the time I returned, in 2017, we accepted that the country was Myanmar and that Rangoon (a name we first used in The Economist in 1844) had become Yangon. The capital had shifted inland, to Naypyidaw, and Aung San Suu Kyi, once revered as a brave democracy activist, had, to my dismay, become a sell-out.
I stayed in Mandalay, a former royal city on the Irrawaddy River, visiting its wonderful moat-circled palace and speaking at a literature festival. There, I saw a country being transformed. A place that had been an exception in Asia for its isolation and lack of development now buzzed as a typically noisy, fast-growing, consumer-led economy. You felt it in the roar of motorbikes on the roads, the brightly lit cities and—just as obvious—from the mass of concrete-and-glass urban sprawl, much of it erected in haste. As I’ve seen across much of poorer Asia, earthquakes are most deadly where huge populations congregate inside large blocks of poorly reinforced concrete. I’ve been in a few quakes, including with my family, and nervously felt my building sway. Each time I was deeply grateful to know that our structure was sound.
The 7.7-magnitude earthquake that struck on Friday was very close to Mandalay. The death toll is undoubtedly many thousands high. Given the repressive state of the country, the ongoing civil war and the military rulers’ reluctance to let aid agencies, journalists or others have free access, the number of dead probably won’t be known, ever. The disaster—a combination of nature’s raw force and man’s shoddy building—will have no political consequences, I suspect. The government will remain preoccupied by war and holding on to power through force. Visit The Economist’s website this evening for our latest analysis of the events in Myanmar.
Elsewhere, we are looking ahead to a momentous date, April 2nd. Are you set to celebrate “Liberation Day”, as Donald Trump calls it, perhaps by hosting a party? Here’s a tip: if a guest shows up with a gift or bottle of wine on Wednesday, be sure to levy an extra tax on it, before letting them into your home. Almost no one, of course, will relish the arrival of Mr Trump’s extra tariffs. Even if you thought higher taxes on imports made sense (they don’t), the cavalier way he threatens, imposes and sometimes removes them, is adding uncertainty for all. No wonder stockmarkets, consumer sentiment and other indicators point to a previously roaring economy slowing, perhaps sharply. Mr Trump may not be triggering an outright recession—not yet—but it’s clear that America is set for higher inflation and sluggish growth. Make America stagnate again?
If there’s a sticker shock for Americans buying cars, I’d expect Mr Trump’s own popularity to suffer. Our tracker, following Mr Trump’s approval rating over time, has already shown a notable downward tick in the past few weeks. His net favourability rating is negative, once more, wiping out the slightly positive bump he had enjoyed since early November. My prediction—as is usual for presidents—is for a steadily downward drift from here onwards.
Another notable date in North America will be the Canadian election. Keep up with that important (and not unrelated) contest, which will happen on April 28th, with our poll tracker. And if it all gets too much and you’re tempted by puzzles, we now publish a mini crossword every week.
Finally, many thanks for all of your responses nominating your favourite airports. I’ve learned that global readers of this newsletter are an immensely well-travelled lot. I now have a long list of places that I’d love to experience—I urgently need an excuse to make a reporting trip to a remote island in the Pacific, for starters. We’ve published a selection of your responses as an article, which I urge you to read. To continue this theme, I’d now like to follow up with a more negative question: which is the worst airport you’ve ever experienced, and why? Write to me at economisttoday@economist.com.
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