• Le groupe #Asian_Women_for_Equality, basé à Vancouver, commente la tuerie commise dans des bordels de Georgie par un misogyne raciste. (Par #Alice_Lee, #Suzanne_Jay et #Melissa_Farley)
    https://tradfem.wordpress.com/2021/03/22/le-groupe-asian-women-for-equality-base-a-vancouver-commente-la-t

    Les racistes s’en prennent à l’humanité des personnes qu’ils attaquent .

    Dans les décès survenus dans le spa d’Atlanta, deux femmes chinoises et quatre femmes coréennes ont été la cible d’un meurtre de masse commis par un homme blanc raciste.

    Nous nous demandons, qui sont les femmes qui ont été assassinées ? Quelles forces les ont canalisées vers les maisons closes de massage d’Atlanta ? Est-ce que leurs familles et leurs ami-e-s les pleurent ? Où sont leurs enfants ?

    Nous savons que 89 % des femmes qui travaillent dans l’industrie du sexe, y compris dans la prostitution de massage, veulent absolument s’en échapper. Quels étaient leurs projets pour la semaine ou l’année à venir ? Comment avons-nous pu les laisser en position aussi vulnérable ? Et maintenant, comment pouvons-nous rendre justice à leur vie et à leur mort ?

    Deux d’entre nous sont asiatiques, nous avons immédiatement compris la menace implicite de ces meurtres : toute femme asiatique est vulnérable. C’est la réalité de chaque femme asiatique, car nous ne pouvons pas choisir si nous sommes considérées comme des Asiatiques ou comme des femmes.

    Alimenté par la suprématie de la race blanche, le racisme anti-asiatique a augmenté pendant la pandémie de coronavirus, les fanatiques accusant les Asiatiques d’être responsables de la COVID-19. Même au Canada, alors que les dirigeants nationaux nous exhortent à la gentillesse et à la patience, nous avons connu une augmentation spectaculaire de la violence contre les Asiatiques dans les espaces publics, les femmes, et surtout les femmes âgées, étant prises pour cibles.

    La liberté de chaque femme est restreinte, car on nous conseille d’éviter les parcs, les transports en commun et les autres lieux publics où se produisent des attaques. Malgré la pandémie, les bordels de massage asiatiques font des affaires florissantes, les acheteurs de sexe payant pour les femmes qui s’y trouvent.

    Communiqué de presse traduit par #TRADFEM
    Version originale : https://www.awcep.org/post/asian-women-fight-back-after-mass-murder-by-racist-misogynist

  • Covid-19 : les Américains d’origine asiatique victimes collatérales du « virus chinois »
    https://www.lemonde.fr/international/article/2021/03/08/covid-19-les-americains-d-origine-asiatique-victimes-collaterales-du-virus-c

    Covid-19 : les Américains d’origine asiatique victimes collatérales du « virus chinois ». Plus de 3 000 incidents ont été signalés à Stop AAPI Hate ces douze derniers mois, principalement en Californie et à New York, où vit la plus grande proportion de cette communauté hétérogène de 21 millions de personnes..
    Un vieil homme jeté à terre à San Francisco, une mère de famille violemment bousculée à New York, une autre attaquée à Oakland (Californie) : ces faits divers survenus ces dernières semaines aux Etats-Unis, tristes symboles d’une violence ordinaire, auraient pu passer inaperçus. Mais l’identité des victimes, toutes Américaines d’origine asiatique, a ravivé les peurs de cette communauté, qui dénonce depuis plusieurs mois, une recrudescence des agressions, physiques et verbales, à son encontre.Pour nombre de responsables associatifs et communautaires, le lien entre la pandémie de Covid-19 et son probable point de départ en Chine, souligné à l’envi par l’ancien président américain, explique cet emballement. La rhétorique de Donald Trump n’a fait qu’attiser la stigmatisation de cette population, estime notamment Stop AAPI (Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders) Hate, une coalition d’associations créée dès mars 2020 pour lutter contre la xénophobie anti-asiatique. Les diatribes présidentielles contre le « virus chinois » ou ses jeux de mots douteux sur la « kung flu » (grippe en anglais) auraient donné libre cours aux attaques contre toute personne associée de près ou de loin à l’Asie.
    Plus de 3 000 incidents ont été signalés à Stop AAPI Hate ces douze derniers mois, principalement en Californie et à New York, où vit la plus grande proportion de cette communauté hétérogène de 21 millions de personnes (5,5 % de la population américaine), originaires d’une vingtaine de pays. La plupart ne font pas l’objet d’une plainte. Crachats et insultes représentent l’immense majorité des agressions. Et, à travers les pays, les attaques les plus graves contre des personnes d’origine asiatique ne relèvent pas forcément toutes d’une motivation raciste. Mais à New York, où s’est tenu le 28 février un rassemblement pour dénoncer ce climat, vingt-neuf « crimes de haine » ont été enregistrés en 2020 contre des Américains d’origine asiatique, parmi lesquels vingt-quatre étaient liés au coronavirus. En 2019, seuls trois incidents contre des membres de cette communauté avaient été signalés. Alertés dès les débuts de la pandémie, les services de police de la ville (NYPD) ont créé un groupe d’agents spécialement dédié à ces affaires. Contrairement à son prédécesseur, le nouveau président Joe Biden a reconnu la multiplication des incidents, en signant un texte, de portée principalement symbolique, qui condamne ces attaques et demandant au ministère de la justice de mieux traiter les « crimes de haine » à l’encontre des Américains d’origine asiatique. « La résurgence de la xénophobie qui a fortement augmenté durant la pandémie est inacceptable et non-américaine », a-t-il déclaré le 26 janvier, quelques jours seulement après sa prise de fonction. Un an après l’arrivée du Covid-19 aux Etats-Unis, le malaise est tel que des volontaires se relaient désormais dans les quartiers « chinois » de plusieurs villes américaines pour protéger les personnes âgées et les commerçants, distribuent des documents en plusieurs langues expliquant la procédure pour porter plainte ; des personnels de santé d’origine asiatique sont pris pour cibles, accusés d’avoir propagé la maladie ; « mon ethnicité n’est pas un virus » proclament des pancartes sur les lieux des agressions ou lors de manifestations.
    Des personnalités s’engagent publiquement
    Des personnalités d’origine asiatique ont aussi donné de la voix. Dénonçant la vague de racisme, le basketteur Jeremy Lin, premier Américain d’origine asiatique à accéder à la NBA, a assuré s’être fait traiter de « coronavirus » sur le terrain. L’actrice Olivia Munn ou les acteurs Daniel Wu et Daniel Dae Kim se sont aussi engagés publiquement, offrant des récompenses pour accélérer l’arrestation des auteurs de récentes agressions. Dans certaines villes, alors que les écoles rouvrent leurs portes après des mois de cours à distance, les autorités scolaires notent une forte réticence des familles d’origine asiatique à réinscrire leurs enfants en cours en présentiel. Parmi les raisons avancées, outre la peur de contracter la maladie à l’école et de contaminer des familles vivant à plusieurs générations sous le même toit, certaines évoquent la peur des insultes racistes.
    Ainsi, indique le Washington Post, à New York, les enfants des communautés d’origine asiatique ne représentent que 12 % des écoliers présents en classe, alors qu’ils constituent 18 % de la population. Dans le Tennessee, moins de la moitié de ces enfants ont choisi l’école en présentiel, contre deux tiers des enfants blancs. Cette méfiance envers la communauté d’origine asiatique et une désaffection pour ses commerces ont eu, aux premières heures de la pandémie, des conséquences économiques. Souvent employés dans des petits commerces particulièrement affectés par les fermetures, les Asian Americans connaissent aujourd’hui une reprise économique plus lente que leurs concitoyens avec des périodes de chômage plus longues.

    #Covid-19#migrant#migration#etatsunis#stigmatisation#xenophobie#violence#sante#pandemie#communaute#economie#asianamercians

  • Keep Out... Come Again. The underbelly of American-styled conservation in the Indian Himalayas.

    IN DECEMBER, THE ROAD leading to the #Tirthan_Valley entrance archway of the #Great_Himalayan_National_Park (#GHNP), a #UNESCO World Heritage site in India’s mountain state of Himachal Pradesh, is a potholed mudslide: For miles, a fleet of excavators and tunnel-boring machines are lopping and drilling the mountains to widen and extend the highway. Most of the traffic passing through a big, dark tunnel blasted through the mountain is headed to Manali — the mass-tourist hub of the Western Himalayas, about an hour’s drive farther north.

    My partner and I pass through the archway and weave the motorcycle along a cliffside road into the gorgeous, narrow valley. Villages and orchards dot the ridges. The first snow is melting off the roofs, and far below the Tirthan River runs free and fast. This is still the off-beaten path. But around every turn, we see signs that development is on the rise. Guesthouses, campsites, cottages, hotels, and resorts are sprouting up outside the park’s boundaries. Trucks carrying construction material drive traffic off onto the shoulder. On the opposite ridge, a new helipad access road is being carved out. The area appears to be under construction, not conservation.

    It seems that by putting this once little-known national park on the global map, conservationists have catalyzed a massive wave of development along its border. And ecotourism, though ostensibly a responsible form of development, looks over here, as one researcher put it, more like “old wine in a new bottle.”

    In the two decades since it was formed, the park has displaced over 300 people from their land, disrupted the traditional livelihoods of several thousand more, and forced yet more into dependence on a risky (eco)tourism industry run in large part by outside “experts.” In many ways, the GHNP is a poster child of how the American national park model — conceived at Yellowstone and exported to the Global South by a transnational nexus of state and nonstate actors, continues to ignore the sociopolitical and cultural realities of a place. As a result, protected areas around the world continue to yield pernicious impacts on local communities, and, to some extent, on the local ecology as well. It also raises the question: If protecting one piece of land requires moving its long-time human residents out, developing adjacent land, and flying in tourists from around the world — what is actually being conserved?

    IN THE EARLY 1980s, at the invitation of the Himachal government, a team of Indian and international wildlife biologists led by a British researcher named Tony Gaston surveyed the Western Himalayas for a possible location for the state’s first national park. The state government had been eyeing the Manali area, but after a broad wildlife survey, Gaston’s team recommended the Upper Tirthan and Sainj valleys instead.

    The ecosystem was less disturbed, home to more wildlife, and thus had “excellent potential for attracting tourists”— especially foreign tourists — who might constitute both a “substantial source of [park] revenues” as well as “an enormous input to the local economy,” the team’s report said.

    The proposed 754.4-square-kilometer park included the upper mountain glacial and snow melt water source origins of the Jiwa Nal, Sainj Tirthan, and Parvati rivers, which are all headwater tributaries to the Beas River and subsequently, the Indus River. Given its location at the junction of two of the world’s major biogeographic realms — the Palearctic and Indomalayan — its monsoon-fed forests and alpine meadows sustain a diversity of plant, moss, lichen, bird, and mammal species, many of which are endemic, including the Himalayan goral, blue sheep, and the endangered western Tragopan pheasant and musk deer.

    The park’s boundary was strategically drawn so that only four villages needed to be relocated. But this glossed over the problem of resource displacement. To the northwest, the proposed park was buffered by high mountain systems that include several other national parks and wildlife sanctuaries, but the land in and around its southwest boundary was home to about 150 villages with a total population of at least 11,000 people, all of whom were officially dispossessed of the forests they depended on for centuries when the Indian government inaugurated The Great Himalayan National Park in 1999. These villages are now part of a 265.6-square-kilometer buffer, or so-called “ecozone,” leading into the park.

    A large majority of these families were poor. Many of them cultivated small parcels of land that provided subsistence for part of the year, and they relied on a variety of additional resources provided by the forestlands in the mountains around their homes to meet the rest of their food and financial requirements. That included grazing sheep and goats in the alpine meadows, extracting medicinal herbs that they could sell to the pharmaceutical and cosmetics industry, and collecting gucchi, or morel mushrooms, that fetched high prices in international markets.

    “IN THE INDIAN CONTEXT, the notion that you can have a landscape that is pristine and therefore devoid of humans is an artificial creation,” says Dr. Vasant Saberwal, a wildlife biologist and director of the Centre for Pastoralism, an organization based in Gujarat state that aims to enhance our understanding of pastoralist ecosystems. “India has [long] been a heavily populated country. So, when you think of alpine meadows at 15,000 feet above sea-level, they have been used by pastoral communities for several hundred years. You cannot now go into those landscapes and say we want a pristine alpine meadow. There’s no such thing.”

    In keeping with the lingering idea, tracing back to early American conservationism, that pastoral societies destroy their own land, the Gaston team’s original report claimed that firewood collecting, hunting, and especially overgrazing, were degrading habitat within the area. It recommended a ban on grazing and medicinal plant collection in order to maintain the park’s biodiversity.

    But Saberwal’s research shows that grazing practices in the park’s high alpine meadows — which constitute almost half the park’s area — were likely necessary to maintain its high levels of herb diversity. Before the area was closed off to people, traditional herders of the Indigenous Gaddi tribe would travel up to the alpine meadows with about 35,000 sheep and goats entrusted to them by individual families, and graze them in these meadows for six snow-free months from April through September.

    “So, when you talk to people and suggest to people that their use of the park leads to degradation, they say that we have been using these resources for the past 150-200 years,” he says. “They say, if our presence here has been such a threat, then why would there be biological diversity here?”

    Saberwal’s findings are consistent with reams of scholarship in recent years documenting how local and Indigenous communities, without external pressures, live convivially with nature.

    That is not to say that external pressures aren’t impacting the region. There has definitely been an uptick in morel and medicinal herbs extraction from the park area, especially since the early 1990s when India “liberalized” its economy. Yet today, without adequate enforcement, it remains unclear just how much the park actually helped curtail extraction of these herbs or instead just forced the market underground.

    Other threats include poaching, human-wildlife conflicts, and hydropower development. Ironically, a 10-square-kilometer area was deleted from the original map of the GHNP for building of a hydro-power project, underscoring a typical approach towards conservation “wherein local livelihoods are expendable in the interests of biodiversity, but biodiversity must make way for national development,” Saberwal says.

    India’s Wildlife Protection Act, which prohibits all human activities within a national park, does recognize people’s traditional rights to forest resources. It therefore requires state governments settle or acquire these rights prior to finalizing a new national park’s boundaries, either through financial compensation or by providing people alternative land where such rights can be exercised. But India’s record of actually honoring these rights has been sketchy at best. In GHNP’s case, the state chose to offer financial compensation to only about 300 of the 2,300 or so impacted households, based on family names listed in a colonial report with census data for the area dating back to 1894. It eventually provided the rest of the villagers alternative areas to graze their livestock, but this land was inadequate and nutrient-poor compared to the grasses in the high alpine meadows. Only a handful of families in these villages still have sheep and goat herds today.

    Saberwal, and many mainstream conservationists, says there is an argument to be made for allowing villagers into the park, and not only because it supports their livelihoods. “The presence of people with a real stake in the biological resources of the park can also lead to far greater levels of support for effective management of the park, including better monitoring of who goes into the park, for what, and at what times of the year. Poaching could be more effectively controlled, as could the excessive extraction of medicinal herbs,” he says.

    DESPITE STIFF LOCAL RESISTANCE, the forest department — with support from an international nonprofit called Friends of GHNP, as well as the World Bank, which chipped in a $2.5 million loan — developed an ecotourism industry in the area to help local communities adapt.

    Eco-development, of course, is the current cool idea for making exclusionary conservation acceptable. On paper, it requires community involvement to create “alternative livelihoods” to reduce locals’ dependence on a park’s resources. So, with the support of Friends of GHNP, the forest department helped form a street theater group. It developed firewood and medicinal herb plantations in an effort to wean villagers off of foraging for these the park. A women’s savings and credit collective called Sahara was set up to produce vermicompost, apricot oil, and handicrafts. The Forest Department also handed out “doles” — stoves, handlooms, televisions, pressure cookers — what Mark Dowie, in his book Conservation Refugees, calls “cargo conservation,” or the exchange of commodities for compliance.

    Yet, the project was mired in corruption and mismanagement. The male director of the women’s collective, for instance, was discovered to be siphoning off the collective’s funds. Meanwhile, local ecodevelopment committees set up to coordinate expenditure on livelihood projects were run by the most powerful people in the villages, usually upper-caste males of the devta (deity) community, and chose to spend the money on things like temple and road repairs. According to a 2001 study of the ecodevelopment project, 70 percent of the funds were spent on infrastructure initiatives of this kind. Much later, in 2002, in an attempt to distance itself from the program, the World Bank concluded ecodevelopment had left “very little or no impact … on the ground.”

    In 2014, the park, along with the adjacent Sainj and Tirthan wildlife sanctuaries, was designated a UNESCO World Heritage site, again in spite of more protests from the impacted local communities. Friends of GHNP wrote the application.

    If creating the park cracked the door to development in the Tirthan Valley, minting it a UNESCO World Heritage site flung it wide open.

    On the economic front, it’s certainly true that the influx of tourists has injected more money into the Tirthan Valley than ever before. And it’s true, too, that many locals, the youth especially, are excited, or at least hopeful, that the industry will improve their lives and alleviate poverty. But on the whole, locals are losing opportunities to outside entrepreneurs who come with deeper pockets, digital marketing savvy, and already established networks of potential clientele.

    “That kind of investment and marketing involvement is difficult for locals for figure out,” says Manashi Asher, a researcher with Himdhara, a Himachal-based environmental research and action collective. “Basically, what many locals have done instead, is circumvent local ecotourism policies by turning their properties into homestay or other kinds of [tourist] lodgings and leasing them out to outsiders to run.”

    Though there are no official estimates yet, there’s a consensus among locals that outsider-run guesthouses have already cornered a majority of the valley’s tourism revenue. “City-based tourism operators are licking out the cream, while the peasantry class and unemployed youth earn a pittance from the seasonal, odd jobs they offer,” Dilaram Shabab, the late “Green Man” of Tirthan Valley who spearheaded successful movements against hydropower development on the Tirthan river, wrote in his book Kullu: The Valley of Gods.

    When I read this quote to Upendra Singh Kamra, a transplant from the northwestern state of Punjab who runs a tourism outfit for fishing enthusiasts called Gone Fishing Cottages, he emphasizes how, unlike at most properties, they don’t lay off their local staff during low season. Some have even bought motorcycles or cars. “Logically, you have nothing and then you have something and then you’re complaining that something is not enough. So it doesn’t make sense for me.”

    Many locals see it differently. Narotham Singh, a veteran forest guard, told me he leased his land for 30 years, but now worries for his son and grandchildren. “If they don’t study, what they’re going to be doing is probably cleaning utensils and sweeping in the guesthouses of these people. That’s the dark future.” Karan Bharti, one of Shabab’s grandsons, told me many youth are so ashamed to work as servants on their own land that they’re fleeing the valley altogether.

    More broadly, tourism is also a uniquely precarious industry. Global market fluctuations and environmental disasters frequently spook tourists away for years. (The Western Himalayas is primed for an 8.0-plus magnitude quake tomorrow). And when destination hotspots flip cold, once self-reliant shepherds turned hoteliers are left holding the bill for that high-interest construction loan.

    Sadly, this is exactly what’s happened. In Himachal, the Covid-19 pandemic has exposed just how dependent the state has become on tourism. After the borders were shut in late March, pressure to reopen to salvage a piece of the summer high season was palpable in the press. Chief Minister Jai Ram Thakur proposed Himachal advertise itself for “Quarantine Tourism.” The hotel unions shot down the idea as absurd.

    THERE’S NO SIGN NOR ROAD to Raju’s Guesthouse. To get to it, you have to cross the Tirthan River in a cable basket or makeshift plank bridge and climb up the opposite bank into a fairytale. Vines climb the dark wood facade. There are flowers, fruit trees, and a fire pit. When I visit, kittens are playing around an old cherry tree and a pack of dogs bark up the steep south face; leopards, I learn, come over the ridge at night sometimes and steal dogs.

    Raju, in his late sixties, toothpick-thin, and wearing a baseball cap, is the pioneer of ecotourism in Tirthan Valley. He is also Shabab’s son. When I first spoke with him on the phone, he called the park an “eyewash.” What he meant was that most people don’t come to the park for the park. It’s a steep, half-day trek just to the official boundary, and, inside, the trails aren’t marked. Most tourists are content with a weekend kickback at a guesthouse in the ecozone.

    Still, if real ecotourism exists, Raju’s comes as close as I’ve ever seen. Food scraps are boiled down and fed to the cows. There’s fishing and birding and trekking on offer. No corporate groups allowed, even though that’s where the big bucks are. And no fume-expelling diesel generator, despite guests’ complaints after big storms. There’s a feeling of ineffable wholesomeness that has kept people coming back year after year, for decades now.

    In a 1998 report titled “Communtity-Based Ecotourism in the GHNP,” a World Bank consultant was so impressed by Raju’s that she recommended it be “used as a model for the whole area.” But this was a consultant’s fantasy. Rather than provide support to help locals become owners in the tourism industry, the government and World Bank offered them tour guide, portering, and cooking training. Today, similar second-tier job trainings are part of an $83 million project funded by the Asian Development Bank to develop tourism (mainly by building parking lots) across Himachal.

    Varun, one of Raju’s two sons who runs the guesthouse, doesn’t think any tourist property in the area is practicing ecotourism, even his own. People are illegally catching trout for guests’ dinners, cutting trees for their bonfires, and dumping their trash into the river, he says.

    In 2018, Varun founded the Tirthan Conservation and Tourism Development Association (https://www.facebook.com/Tirthan-conservation-and-tourism-development-association-101254861218173), a union of local guesthouses that works to “eliminate the commercialization of our neighborhood and retain the aura of the valley.” They do tree plantings, enforce camping bans around the river, and meet regularly to discuss new developments in the valley.

    Yet, Varun doesn’t see any way of stopping the development wave. “I mean, it’s inevitable. No matter how much you resist, you know, you’ll have to accept it. The only thing is, we can delay it, slow it down.”

    https://www.earthisland.org/journal/index.php/magazine/entry/keep-out...come-again
    #Inde #montagne #conservation_de_la_nature #nature #protection_de_la_nature #parc_national #Himachal_Pradesh #Manali #tourisme #colonialisme #néo-colonialisme #circulation_des_modèles #Hymalayah #Jiwa_Nal #Sainj_Tirthan #Parvati #rivières #Beas_River #paysage #conservationnisme #biodiversité #Gaddi #élevage #ressources #exploitation_des_ressources #Friends_of_GHNP #banque_mondiale #éco-tourisme #écotourisme #cargo_conservation #corruption #devta #deity #éco-développement #développement #World_Heritage_site #énergie_hydroélectrique #Asian_Development_Bank #Tirthan_Conservation_and_Tourism_Development_Association

    #ressources_pédagogiques

  • A clip from ’#We_Have_the_Right_to_be_Here'

    ’Hostile environment - to call it that is too small. Actually give it it’s big name: it’s the state’s 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙡𝙞𝙘𝙞𝙩𝙮 in systematic, racist practice.’

    https://twitter.com/IRR_News/status/1337015894237655040

    –-----

    Screening “We have the right to be here” and Discussion

    ‘We Have the Right To Be Here’ is an oral history and analysis of some of the black and anti-racist movements of post-war Britain, told by three activists in an interview conducted by poet and educator, #Sam_Berkson. #Suresh_Grover, #Frances_Webber and #Colin_Prescod talk of their first-hand involvement in groundbreaking events of the British anti-racist and anti-fascist struggle. From the response to the racist murder of #Kelso_Cochrane in Notting Hill 1959, to #Asian_Youth_Movements in Southall in the 1970s, the case of the ‘#Bradford_12’ in 1981, to the #Stephen_Lawrence justice campaign in the 1990s, the activists tell how successful movements came together to challenge the state and the far-right. Talking from their personal experience at the heart of the struggle, Grover, Webber and Prescod analyse the dynamics of state racism and people’s resistance to it. They reflect on how victories have been won and how much more work there is to do.’The interview was conducted at the Institute of Race Relations in summer 2019, and contains footage, photographs and archive material from many of the struggles mentioned.

    https://maydayrooms.org/event/screening-we-have-the-right-to-be-here-and-discussion

    #racisme_systémique #racisme_d'Etat #UK #Angleterre #hostile_environment #environnement_hostile #complicité #histoire #résistance #luttes #interview #entretien

    ping @isskein @cede @karine4

  • La #concurrence est rude dans la #construction #navale #asiatique entre le #Japon, la #Chine et la #Corée du Sud.
    The #competition is rough in #asian #shipbuilding between #Japan, #China and #South #Corea

    Cet article des Nikkei staff writers nous présente la situation critique de l’#industrie navale asiatique.
    https://asia.nikkei.com/Economy/Trade-tensions/Chinese-and-South-Korean-support-for-shipbuilders-irks-Japan
    Publié le 24/03/2018
    Vu le 03/06/2018

    Unless we do something, the ailing industry will get even worse" - Yasuhiko Katoh, président de la Shipbuilders’ Association of Japan

    Alors que l’industrie se porte déjà mal que ce soit pour la Daewoo Shipbuilding & Marine Engineering de Corée du Sud, deuxième plus importante mondiale, la China State Shipbuilding (CSSC), une des deux principales du pays ou de manière générale en ce qui concerne l’industrie navale et l’industrie #lourde au Japon. Pour ce dernier cette industrie avait été expansive dans les années 90’ mais a chuté en 2017 alors que la Corée du Sud c’est améliorée #technologiquement, c’est alliée à Hyundai Heavy Industries et que ses #bateaux apparaissent moins couteux que ceux du Japon sur le #marché aux même titre que ceux de la Chine. De ce fait malgré la situation difficile des trois pays sur le marché naval aucun accord n’est décidé et la #concurrence reste rude. Les #constructeurs japonais tentent alors de s’étendre en #outre-mer avec Mitsui E&S Shipbuilding et Tsuneishi Shipbuilding, ou de se plaindre de la Corée du Sud la World #Trade Organization.

  • Kongar-Ool Ondar et Paul Pena - Genghis Blues
    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QMiFKUJ7VzE


    le morceau commence à 2:40
    @simplicissimus c’est de lui dont je te parlait samedi

    et là c’est mon morceau préféré dans le genre
    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VYqrWRiS204

    celui là est bien aussi, super triste avec l’accordéon.
    Amyr Akchin - Khan-Altai
    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yVePBUsG8pk

    #Mongolie #chant_polyphonique #musique #Sibérie

  • Les produits dérivés #Hitler font « Führer » en #Thaïlande
    http://fr.myeurop.info/2013/07/08/les-produits-derives-hitler-font-fuehrer-en-thailande-11472

    Quentin Bisson

    Un restaurateur de Bangkok a ouvert un fast-food sur le modèle de KFC. Son nom ? Hitler. Il surfe sur une #mode bien particulière : le « Nazi-chic ». Sous les yeux effarés des touristes européens, le #nazisme devient banckable en Thaïlande.

    Le mois dernier, un restaurateur thaïlandais a repris en partie la devanture mondialement connue du restaurant KFC pour orner son établissement. lire la (...)

    #REVUE_DU_WEB #Insolites #Société #Vent_d'Est #Allemagne #Europe #Royaume-Uni #Asie #jeunes #Nazis-chic

  • A Mongolian Neo-Nazi Environmentalist Walks into a Lingerie Store in Ulan Bator
    Un titre des plus étranges ... on dirait un assemblage de mots au hasard ...
    http://www.theatlantic.com/infocus/2013/07/a-mongolian-neo-nazi-environmentalist-walks-into-a-lingerie-store-in-ulan-bator/100547

    Reuters photographer Carlos Barria spent time documenting Mongolian neo-Nazi group Tsagaan Khass, one of several ultra-nationalist groups that have expanded in the country.