North Korea has become the focus of international attention once again. In October 2002 it admitted to a visiting U.S. envoy of having a clandestine nuclear program through uranium enrichment, which is a violation of, among other things, the bilateral agreement it signed with the United States eight years ago. In retaliation, the United States canceled shipment of heavy fuel oil to North Korea, that shipment being part of the agreement to compensate for North Korea's abandonment of its nuclear program. Since then, North Korea has astonished the world with a series of highly provocative moves: it restarted the nuclear facilities that it had frozen since 1994; expelled the inspectors from the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA); declared immediate withdrawal from the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT); and threatened to resume test-firing long-range missiles that it voluntarily stopped in 1998.

Almost exactly a half-century following the outbreak of the Korean War, South Korea president Kim Dae-jung made a historic visit to Pyongyang for the first-ever summit meeting between the leaders of the two Koreas in June of 2000. A decade following the collapse of communism in the rest of the world, Kim's journey would inevitably be judged in history as a potential starting point for the end of inter-Korean confrontation. Three days following direct, broad-ranging discussions with his counterpart, Kim Jong Il, Kim Dae-jung confidently returned to Seoul with an inter-Korean summit declaration promising enhanced efforts at reconciliation and inter-Korean exchange. Upon his return to Seoul, Kim Dae-jung declared that there would be “no more war” on the Korean Peninsula. The next task was to institutionalize an array of exchanges and inter-Korean interactions designed eventually to lead to national reconciliation.

December 2002 shook up South Korea's conservative establishment and its U.S. ally. Five days before the South Korean presidential election, with a quarter of the electorate still remaining undecided, leaders of nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) and religious activists staged a massive candlelight vigil in front of Seoul's city hall to protest against “unequal” provisions in South Korea's Status of Forces Agreement (SOFA) with its U.S. ally. The political rally drew some 40,000 protestors from all walks of life. Moreover, it was only one among many climaxes in a long mobilization drive launched by NGOs and “netizens” since June, when a U.S. armored vehicle driven by Sergeant Fernando Nino and Mark Walker ran over two teenage girls during a military exercise in Hyochonli. That month saw some thirty NGOs establish a national umbrella organization to demand the trial of Nino and Walker under South Korean law. Then, in December, the Catholic, Buddhist, and Protestant religious orders joined in to lend their authority to the protestors by collectively calling for the revision of SOFA to give South Korea “primary jurisdiction” over criminal cases. The radical hanchongryon university students, too, showed up in protest sites to stir up and escalate anti-American sentiments, regularly raiding U.S. military bases in Uijongbu and Yongsan and even breaking into the U.S. Embassy compound in November. But unlike the past, this intrusion of radical hanchongryon activists did not drive away presumably conservative middle-class groups from political rallies. On the contrary, the call for a SOFA revision grew louder after the U.S. military court judged Nino and Walker not guilty of negligent homicide.

No country in Asia has more experience with democratic institutions than the Philippines. Over more than a century—from the representational structures of the Malolos republic of 1898 to the political tutelage of American colonial rule, from the cacique democracy of the postwar republic to the restoration of democracy in the People Power uprising of 1986—Filipinos know both the promise of democracy and the problems of making democratic structures work for the benefit of all. Some 100 years after the introduction of national-level democratic institutions to the Philippines, the sense of frustration over the character of the country's democracy is arguably more apparent than ever before. On the one hand, the downfall of President Joseph Estrada in January 2001 revealed the capacity of many elements of civil society to demand accountability and fairness from their leaders; on the other hand, the popular uprisings of April and May 2001—involving thousands of urban poor supporters of Estrada—highlighted the continuing failure of democratic structures to respond to the needs of the poor and excluded. Philippine democracy is, indeed, in a state of crisis.

Ever since the end of the Cold War, the United States—from the government to the public, from the White House to Congress, from policymakers to pundits, from China specialists to people who know little about China—has engaged itself in the seemingly endless debate on China. Immediately after the collapse of the Soviet Union, people debated whether China was still important to the United States and whether the Sino-U.S. special relationship was worth preserving. Since the early 1990s, with China's remarkable economic “soft landing” and the consequent robust and sustained economic growth, Americans seemed to have reached a consensus that China still matters to the United States for better or worse. U.S.-China relations were often referred to as one of the most important bilateral relations to the United States. But important in what way? Much debate ensued with a series of frictions between the two countries that climaxed in the dispatch of two U.S. aircraft carriers to the South China Sea during the Taiwan Strait crisis in 1996, the U.S.-led NATO bombing of the Chinese embassy in Belgrade in 1999, and the midair collision between the two air forces in 2001. The U.S. media tirelessly asked the question: “China: friend or foe?” The pattern for U.S. China policy since the end of the Cold War is that whenever the relationship appeared to be stabilizing and a consensus was shaping, new crises emerged and destroyed the hard-won progress, triggering another round of debate on China as if people never learned anything from the previous debate; the old and familiar discourse started all over again.