Seriously Curious

by Tom Standage

  Exorcism remains a niche business, but could become more popular among those not of the traditional church, such as immigrants. House blessings, like those conducted by Mr Moscato, appear to be harmless entertainment. But risks exist: occasionally victims of violent rituals, including children, have been killed in beatings that are supposed to chase evil spirits from a person. The more responsible fee-charging exorcists say a diagnosis or exorcism of a person should happen only after a patient has consulted a doctor or psychiatrist. In general, those who pay for such rituals appear to believe they get some kind of result, just as others opt for homeopathic medicines or astrological readings and expect some positive effect. Any supposed benefit follows from the fact that the customer first believes in the service – which is true of many other businesses, too.

  Why China has the world’s worst flight delays

  China’s airports are a marvel. During the past decade, nearly ten new ones have opened every year. Sleek, spacious, modern buildings, outfitted with the latest technology, they can shimmer like visions from the future. Yet they are also objects of dread and loathing for just about anyone who has spent time passing through them. It is not the buildings themselves so much as what they represent: long waits. China’s airports may be some of the world’s most elegant, but they are also global leaders in flight delays. Of the world’s 100 busiest airports, the seven that suffer the longest delays are all in China, including the country’s major hubs in Beijing, Shanghai and Shenzhen. At the 13 Chinese airports that rank among the world’s top 100, flights are delayed by 43 minutes on average. The global norm, excluding China, is 27 minutes. The only other airports that come close to rivalling China for tardiness are the three that serve the crowded skies around New York: JFK, LaGuardia and Newark.

  Congestion is only a partial explanation for China’s delays. China is already the world’s second-biggest aviation market, with about half a billion passengers per year, and the industry is still expanding at a double-digit rate. It is destined to overtake America as the world’s busiest market (based on passenger numbers) within a decade, according to the International Air Transport Association. But when looking at numbers of flights, China actually has a surprising amount of slack. Just one of its airports is among the world’s 20 busiest for flights (Beijing Capital International, which ranks seventh). Chinese airports, in other words, tend to have fewer flights, and bigger planes carrying more passengers. That should, in principle, make it easier to avoid delays. What’s more, given that Chinese airports generally have ample runway space and state-of-the-art air-traffic-control systems, they should be better at getting planes into the air on time.

  Why is China’s record so poor? The first reason is that its airports err on the side of extreme safety. At many big airports around the world, intervals between flights (whether taking off or landing) have been compressed to as little as 30 seconds. In China they are often as long as two minutes, even when there is a backlog of planes. In the summer months, when weather is wetter, the timeliness of Chinese flights deteriorates markedly (see chart). Just two out of every five flights departed as scheduled in July 2017. Nevertheless, at a time of such rapid growth in air travel, the caution of China’s air-traffic controllers is understandable. There have been no significant accidents on their watch over the past five years.

  Cleared for take-off

  Airports with the highest average number of departures per month

  A second factor ought to be more readily solvable. The military controls roughly three-quarters of airspace in China, and shunts civilian traffic aside. When the air force takes flight, commercial planes have no choice but to wait on the runway, sometimes for hours. The government has long vowed to do a better job of integrating civil and military management of airspace, and to release more air corridors for commercial use. Yet improvements have, so far at least, been imperceptible. It is a touchy subject. Airlines rarely inform passengers that military exercises are the reason for late departures, instead citing generic air-traffic controls or inclement weather, even on clear days. But official figures published in 2017 revealed that military activity was responsible for about a quarter of delays. It all adds up to more time stuck inside China’s gleaming (but frustrating) airports.

  Why Somaliland is east Africa’s strongest democracy

  Drop a pin on a map of eastern Africa, and the chances are it will not land on a healthy democracy. Somalia and South Sudan are failed states. Sudan is a dictatorship, as are the police states of Eritrea, Rwanda and Ethiopia. President Yoweri Museveni of Uganda has ruled uninterrupted since 1986, and has passed a law to remove a constitutional age limit so he can cling on longer. Elections in Tanzania have never ousted the Party of the Revolution; it and its predecessor have governed continuously since independence in 1961. Even Kenya, once the region’s most vibrant and competitive democracy, is struggling. In October 2017 Uhuru Kenyatta was re-elected president with 98% of a preposterously flawed vote. In this context, tiny Somaliland stands out. In November 2017 citizens of this internationally unrecognised state elected a president in its sixth peaceful, competitive and relatively clean vote since 2001. This unparalleled record makes it the strongest democracy in the region. How has this happened?

  A peculiar history helps. Somaliland was a British protectorate, before merging with Italian Somalia in 1960 to form a unified Somalia. It broke away in 1991, and now has a strong sense of national identity. It was one of the few entities carved up by European colonists that actually made some sense. Somaliland is more socially homogeneous than Somalia or indeed most other African states, and greater homogeneity tends to mean higher levels of trust between citizens. A decade of war against the regime of Siad Barre in Mogadishu, Somalia’s capital, reduced Somaliland’s two largest cities to rubble, yet produced a flinty patriotic spirit. And the Somali National Movement (SNM), which led the fighting, cultivated an internal culture of democracy. Its leadership changed five times in nine years, and transferred power to a civilian administration within two years of victory.

  But it is the absence of international recognition that may matter most. Muhammad Haji Ibrahim Egal, the president of Somaliland from 1993 to 2002, argued in 1999 that recognition would be dependent on the country’s pursuit of democracy. He proceeded to devise a constitution that was put to a popular referendum in 2001. For fear of encouraging other separatist movements in the region, the international community, following the African Union, has never obliged by recognising Somaliland. But rather than stunting democracy, this response ensured that democratisation spread from the bottom up. Donors often demand democratic reforms from African countries as a condition of financial aid. Because unrecognised Somaliland is cut off from most external assistance, the social contract between government and citizens has become unusually strong. Democracy evolved out of a series of mass public consultations – clan conferences – which endowed it with an unusual degree of legitimacy. The system’s most striking feature is the upper house of clan elders, known as the “Guurti”, which ensures broadly representative government and underpins much of the country’s consensual political culture.

  Somaliland’s democracy is by no means spotless. Corruption is endemic, and the media are seldom critical. The influence of the clans has been muted but not eradicated. And elections are repeatedly delayed. The vote in November 2017 was overdue by more than two years, by which time all branches of government had outlived their mandates. The lower house had been sitting for 12 years; the Guurti has sat unelected since it was formed in 1993. And there may be even bigger challenges in the future. In 2017 Somaliland signed agreements with the United Arab Emirates to build a new port and a military base at the coastal town of Berbera. The former, valued at over $400m, was the country’s largest-ever investment deal. Nation-building on a shoestring helped keep Somaliland’s politicians relatively accountable, and helped to maintain the delicate balance between clans. That may not be the case for much longer. But in the meantime, it is a beacon of d
emocracy and an example to its neighbours.

  Why yurts are going out of style in Mongolia

  If the best-known emblem of Mongolia is its mighty 13th-century conqueror, Genghis Khan, the second best-known is probably the humble nomadic dwelling known in English by the Turkic word yurt. Legend has it that Genghis Khan himself ruled his vast empire from – suitably enough – an especially large one, nine metres in diameter. The Mongolian word for yurt, ger, has come to mean “home” and it also forms the root of the verb “to marry”. Why, then, does this central and beloved bit of cultural patrimony seem to be going out of style?

  With their collapsible lattice frames made of wood and their highly efficient felt insulation, yurts are both warm and transportable. Indeed, many nomads have transported their yurts to the edges of the capital, Ulaanbaatar. On three sides of the city, ramshackle neighbourhoods are populated by migrants from all across Mongolia’s vast countryside. These steadily growing hillside areas are universally referred to as “ger districts”, and those white domes are their most prominent feature when viewed from the heart of the city. But fewer than half of the residents in these districts actually live in yurts. Most have taken the 700 square metres of land allotted to them by national law and built simple fixed structures of wood, brick or concrete instead.

  The number of rural dwellers migrating to cities increased suddenly with Mongolia’s transition, in 1990, from a Soviet-imposed communist system to democracy. Since 2000 the influx of herders to Ulaanbaatar, by far the country’s largest city, has grown especially fast. Drought, together with an increased frequency of the phenomenon known in Mongolian as a dzud (an especially dry summer followed by an especially harsh winter that livestock cannot survive), have made herding more difficult. At the same time, Ulaanbaatar’s rapid development has made it more attractive as a source of both job opportunities and services, including health care and education. But city officials have so far failed to provide basic infrastructure to the growing ger districts. The pit latrines that serve well enough for yurt dwellers in sparsely populated rural areas are ill-suited to the densely packed settlements on Ulaanbaatar’s edges. Neither are the ger districts connected to city heating systems, forcing residents to burn coal for their cooking and heating needs. This generates horrendous pollution, and a good deal of grumbling among residents of the city’s built-up areas.

  Added to this is the fact that once they give up herding for city life, migrants have less use for one of the yurt’s main advantages: portability. All this explains the results of a survey of Ulaanbaatar’s ger-district residents, published in 2015: 72% of respondents said they would move into an apartment if they could. And even in the countryside Mongolians are heeding the siren song of modern living and being lured out of their yurts, albeit at a slower rate. Between 2010 and 2015, the proportion of households living in yurts declined by 1.3 percentage points, according to Mongolia’s national statistics bureau. It will take some time, but the noble yurt looks like it is on its way to joining Genghis Khan as a symbol of Mongolia’s proud past.

  Which cities have the highest murder rates?

  Cocaine is grown primarily in South America, and trafficked to the world’s biggest market, the United States, via Central America and the Caribbean. The land routes originate mainly in Colombia, and pass through the small nations of El Salvador, Honduras and Guatemala before traversing Mexico. It is little wonder, then, that Latin America remains the world’s most violent region not at war. According to data from the Igarapé Institute, a Brazilian think-tank, 43 of the 50 most murderous cities in the world in 2016, and eight of the top ten countries, are in Latin America and the Caribbean. (War zones, where numbers are hard to verify, are excluded.) Conflicts between gangs, corruption and weak public institutions all contribute to the high levels of violence across the region.

  The top of the ranking has not changed. In both 2015 and 2016, El Salvador was the world’s most violent country, and its capital, San Salvador, was the most murderous city. However, the 2016 numbers do represent a slight improvement: the national murder rate fell from 103 killings per 100,000 people in 2015 to 91 the following year, and San Salvador’s murder rate from 190 to 137. Most analysts credit a clampdown by government security forces for this reduction, though tough-on-crime policies do little to address the underlying causes of gang violence. A similar downward trend was evident in neighbouring Honduras: San Pedro Sula, which for years wore the unwelcome crown as the world’s most murderous city, ranked third.

  However, spikes in violence in neighbouring countries suggest that anti-gang policies are merely redistributing murders geographically rather than preventing them. Acapulco, a beach resort on Mexico’s Pacific coast, recorded 108 homicides per 100,000 people in 2016, placing it second behind San Salvador. That reflects the nationwide trend: Mexico’s overall rate rose from 14.1 killings per 100,000 people to 17. That figure nearly equals the previous violent peak of Mexico’s drug wars, in 2011. As a result, six Mexican cities rank among the top 50, three more than did so a year earlier.

  Mean streets

  Homicides per 100,000 population, 50 highest cities*, 2016 or latest

  Source: Igarapé Institute

  *With populations of 250,000 or more

  The middle of the list is dominated by Brazil: the world’s second-biggest cocaine consumer is home to half of all cities in the ranking. That mostly reflects its large population. During 2016, violence shifted from place to place within Brazil: the murder rate fell in the largest cities, but increased in smaller ones. In Maraba and Viamão, homicides rose by 20% in a year, whereas in São Paulo, Brazil’s most populous city, murders fell by 55% from 2014 to 2015. Unlike in Mexico and Central America, there is evidence of a slight overall improvement: the national homicide rate fell from 29 per 100,000 in 2014 to 27 in 2015, the latest year for which data are available. Nonetheless, by sheer virtue of its size, Brazil reigns as the world’s overall murder capital: 56,212 people were killed there in 2015.

  Only two countries outside Latin America contain cities in the top 50: the United States and South Africa. In America, the only rich country on the list, a spike in homicides propelled two more cities, Detroit and New Orleans, to join St Louis and Baltimore, which also figured on 2015’s list. Each has a rate that is around ten times the national average of 4.9 homicides per 100,000 people. South Africa is the only country outside the Americas in this ranking. Two new cities, Nelson Mandela Bay and Buffalo City, have been added to the list, mainly because data collection is improving in the country. The homicide rate in South Africa climbed by 5% last year, though other violent crime dropped.

  Why young Britons are committing fewer crimes

  Crime in Britain has been falling, as in many rich countries. In England and Wales the decline has been dramatic: since the mid-1990s the number of offences has fallen by half. Vehicle theft has dropped by 86% since 1995 and burglaries by 71%. The most reliable measure of lawbreaking, the Crime Survey for England and Wales, is based on the experiences of victims, rather than perpetrators. But evidence from elsewhere suggests that within the broader decline in lawbreaking is another even more striking decline: that in crime committed by young people.

  The number of youngsters aged between ten (the age of criminal responsibility in England and Wales) and 17 entering the criminal-justice system for the first time has tumbled, down by 84% since 2006. By contrast, the number of adults has declined by just 46%. Those figures partly reflect the fact that the police have abandoned performance targets that had encouraged them to pick up misbehaving youngsters; catching spray-painting teenagers is easier than nabbing burglars. But the decrease has been so dramatic that it almost certainly points to children being more law-abiding today than they used to be. Other measures support this thesis. According to the victims of violence interviewed for the crime survey, between 2006 and 2016 the proportion who thought their attacker was aged 16 or under fell by almost half, from 14% to 8%. And between 2012 and 2015 the proport
ion of pupils at secondary schools were who temporarily suspended fell from 8.3% to 7.5%. Declines in the numbers of youngsters arrested have also been seen in countries such as Germany, the Netherlands and America.

  Youngsters have become more law-abiding for similar reasons as their elders. Items that they used to steal, such as televisions and car radios, have fallen in value, so taking them is no longer worthwhile. Security measures such as burglar alarms have made it harder to break into houses. Central locking and other security features have made stealing cars trickier. Better and smarter policing has helped too. But some factors may have helped to drive down crime among young people specifically. In particular, they are living more abstemiously. The proportion of British children who said that they had ever experimented with drugs fell by half between 2001 and 2014. Among adults, the figure barely shifted. In 2014 just 38% of 11–15 year-olds admitting to having tried alcohol; in 1988 over 60% said that they had tried drinking.

  This more sober lifestyle affects crime rates in three ways, argues Tim Bateman of the University of Bedfordshire. Less drug-taking means less law-breaking to fund purchases. Crimes related to the possession and acquisition of drugs also decline. And children are less likely to commit crimes when they are not drunk or high. Technology may also be helping to make the world less crime-ridden. Spending hours on computers and smartphones provides a benign alternative to getting up to no good. According to a study in 2012 by researchers from the London School of Economics, British children spend more time online and start going online at an earlier age than the European average. These trends bode well for the future: research shows that law-abiding children are more likely to turn into law-abiding adults.