On the antlers of a dilemma
The ambitions of Ma Ying-jeou, Taiwan’s president, collide with popular suspicion of China
THE fresh-faced good looks have been lined and drawn by the cares of
office. His immaculate English is forsaken for the dignity of immaculate
Mandarin. Patient replies to questions come wearily, as if said many
times before. Yet, six years into his presidency, Ma Ying-jeou’s hair
remains as lush and jet-black as any Chinese Politburo member’s. And,
speaking in the presidential palace in Taipei, he remains as unwilling
as any leader in Beijing to admit to any fundamental flaws in strategy.
Perhaps Mr Ma draws inspiration from his portrait of Sun Yat-sen,
founder of his ruling party, the Kuomintang (KMT), and, in 1912, of the
Republic of China to which Taiwan’s government still owes its name. Sun
is revered as a nationalist hero not just by the KMT but, across the
Taiwan Strait, by the Chinese Communist Party too. Mr Ma may also hope
to be feted on both sides of the strait—in his case as a leader
responsible for a historic rapprochement. For now, however,
reconciliation between Taiwan and China remains distant. And Mr Ma, once
the KMT’s most popular politician, is taunted by opponents as the “9%
president”, a reference to his approval ratings in opinion polls last
autumn.
Improving relations with China has been the central theme of his
administration, after the tensions of eight years of rule by the
Democratic Progressive Party (DPP), which leans towards declaring formal
independence from the mainland. Mr Ma can boast of 21 agreements signed
with China. He reels off the numbers of two fast-integrating economies:
a tenfold increase in six years in mainland tourists to Taiwan, to
2.85m in 2013; cross-strait flights from none at all to 118 every day;
two-way trade, including with Hong Kong, up to $160 billion a year.
China’s strategy to reabsorb Taiwan is plain. As the island’s economy
becomes more intertwined with that of the vast mainland, China thinks,
resistance to unification will wane. Then Taiwan becomes an “autonomous”
part of China—like Hong Kong, though allowed its own army. Taiwan will
return to the motherland without resort to the missiles and increasingly
powerful armed forces ranged against it. But as Mr Ma sees it,
cross-strait “rapprochement” is a first line of defence against Chinese
aggression, since “a unilateral move by the mainland to change the
status quo by non-peaceful means would come at a dear price”. Politics
in Taiwan is framed as a debate about independence or unification but is
really about preserving the status quo.
The next step in rapprochement with China would be a meeting between
political leaders. In February in Nanjing, once the capital of a KMT
government of all China, ministers from China and Taiwan held their
first formal meeting since 1949. Mr Ma hoped to meet China’s president,
Xi Jinping, in Beijing this November, at the Asia-Pacific Economic
Co-operation (APEC) summit. To accommodate Hong Kong and Taiwan, APEC’s
members are not “countries” but “economies”. So Mr Xi and Mr Ma could
meet as “economic leaders”, sidestepping the tricky protocol that
usually dogs relations, with China viewing Taiwan as a mere province.
The Chinese demurred. But Mr Ma thinks a meeting somewhere is “not
outside the realm of possibility”.
This backdrop explains why a protest movement against a
services-trade agreement with the mainland is more than a little local
difficulty for Mr Ma. Students occupying parliament have resorted to
undemocratic means, and many of the arguments they and the DPP make
about the trade agreement are specious. But they have tapped a vein of
popular mistrust of Mr Ma and of economic integration with the mainland.
A split persists between native Taiwanese, on the island for
generations, and mainlanders, like Mr Ma, whose families came over as
the KMT lost the civil war in the 1940s. Protesters portray Mr Ma as
either a mainland stooge or as clueless and out of touch. In the
occupied parliament, student caricatures give him antlers, a reference
to a slip he once made when he appeared to suggest that the deer-antlers
used in Chinese medicine were in fact hair from the animal’s ears.
Mr Ma says public opinion supports a “Ma-Xi” summit. Joseph Wu of the
DPP, however, claims such a meeting would actually damage the KMT in
the next presidential election, due in 2016; rather, he says, Mr Ma is
trying to leave a personal legacy. The DPP’s lead in the polls alarms
not just the Chinese government but also America, which could do without
another flare-up in a dangerous region. The stronger China grows, the
more Taiwan’s security depends on commitments from America. It switched
diplomatic recognition to Beijing in 1979, but Congress then passed a
law obliging it to help Taiwan defend itself.
All political lives end…
Mr Ma says relations with America are better than they have ever been
at least since 1979 and perhaps before. Others are doubtful. In all the
talk of America’s “pivot” to Asia, its promises to Taiwan are rarely
mentioned. Many in Taiwan paid attention when John Mearsheimer, an
American academic, suggested in the
National Interest,
a policy journal, that there is “a reasonable chance American
policymakers will eventually conclude that it makes good strategic sense
to abandon Taiwan and to allow China to coerce it into accepting
unification.” For some, abandonment is a fact of life and unification a
matter of time. “No one is on our side strategically, diplomatically,
politically; we have to count on China’s goodwill,” an academic in
Taipei argues.
Mr Ma has tried to steer what seems a sensible middle course between
such defeatism and the adventurism of those in the DPP who would like to
confront and challenge China. But he sounds weary with the effort, and
Taiwan’s people seem weary of him. Their pragmatism and the DPP’s
internecine strife may yet see them elect another KMT president in 2016.
But if Mr Ma hoped to leave office with cross-strait relations
stabilised, and with his own role as an historic peacemaker recognised
on both sides and around the world, he seems likely to be disappointed.
- See more at:
http://www.economist.com/news/asia/21599812-ambitions-ma-ying-jeou-taiwans-president-collide-popular-suspicion-china#sthash.74E8Fq3f.dpuf
On the antlers of a dilemma
The ambitions of Ma Ying-jeou, Taiwan’s president, collide with popular suspicion of China
THE fresh-faced good looks have been lined and drawn by the cares of
office. His immaculate English is forsaken for the dignity of immaculate
Mandarin. Patient replies to questions come wearily, as if said many
times before. Yet, six years into his presidency, Ma Ying-jeou’s hair
remains as lush and jet-black as any Chinese Politburo member’s. And,
speaking in the presidential palace in Taipei, he remains as unwilling
as any leader in Beijing to admit to any fundamental flaws in strategy.
Perhaps Mr Ma draws inspiration from his portrait of Sun Yat-sen,
founder of his ruling party, the Kuomintang (KMT), and, in 1912, of the
Republic of China to which Taiwan’s government still owes its name. Sun
is revered as a nationalist hero not just by the KMT but, across the
Taiwan Strait, by the Chinese Communist Party too. Mr Ma may also hope
to be feted on both sides of the strait—in his case as a leader
responsible for a historic rapprochement. For now, however,
reconciliation between Taiwan and China remains distant. And Mr Ma, once
the KMT’s most popular politician, is taunted by opponents as the “9%
president”, a reference to his approval ratings in opinion polls last
autumn.
Improving relations with China has been the central theme of his
administration, after the tensions of eight years of rule by the
Democratic Progressive Party (DPP), which leans towards declaring formal
independence from the mainland. Mr Ma can boast of 21 agreements signed
with China. He reels off the numbers of two fast-integrating economies:
a tenfold increase in six years in mainland tourists to Taiwan, to
2.85m in 2013; cross-strait flights from none at all to 118 every day;
two-way trade, including with Hong Kong, up to $160 billion a year.
China’s strategy to reabsorb Taiwan is plain. As the island’s economy
becomes more intertwined with that of the vast mainland, China thinks,
resistance to unification will wane. Then Taiwan becomes an “autonomous”
part of China—like Hong Kong, though allowed its own army. Taiwan will
return to the motherland without resort to the missiles and increasingly
powerful armed forces ranged against it. But as Mr Ma sees it,
cross-strait “rapprochement” is a first line of defence against Chinese
aggression, since “a unilateral move by the mainland to change the
status quo by non-peaceful means would come at a dear price”. Politics
in Taiwan is framed as a debate about independence or unification but is
really about preserving the status quo.
The next step in rapprochement with China would be a meeting between
political leaders. In February in Nanjing, once the capital of a KMT
government of all China, ministers from China and Taiwan held their
first formal meeting since 1949. Mr Ma hoped to meet China’s president,
Xi Jinping, in Beijing this November, at the Asia-Pacific Economic
Co-operation (APEC) summit. To accommodate Hong Kong and Taiwan, APEC’s
members are not “countries” but “economies”. So Mr Xi and Mr Ma could
meet as “economic leaders”, sidestepping the tricky protocol that
usually dogs relations, with China viewing Taiwan as a mere province.
The Chinese demurred. But Mr Ma thinks a meeting somewhere is “not
outside the realm of possibility”.
This backdrop explains why a protest movement against a
services-trade agreement with the mainland is more than a little local
difficulty for Mr Ma. Students occupying parliament have resorted to
undemocratic means, and many of the arguments they and the DPP make
about the trade agreement are specious. But they have tapped a vein of
popular mistrust of Mr Ma and of economic integration with the mainland.
A split persists between native Taiwanese, on the island for
generations, and mainlanders, like Mr Ma, whose families came over as
the KMT lost the civil war in the 1940s. Protesters portray Mr Ma as
either a mainland stooge or as clueless and out of touch. In the
occupied parliament, student caricatures give him antlers, a reference
to a slip he once made when he appeared to suggest that the deer-antlers
used in Chinese medicine were in fact hair from the animal’s ears.
Mr Ma says public opinion supports a “Ma-Xi” summit. Joseph Wu of the
DPP, however, claims such a meeting would actually damage the KMT in
the next presidential election, due in 2016; rather, he says, Mr Ma is
trying to leave a personal legacy. The DPP’s lead in the polls alarms
not just the Chinese government but also America, which could do without
another flare-up in a dangerous region. The stronger China grows, the
more Taiwan’s security depends on commitments from America. It switched
diplomatic recognition to Beijing in 1979, but Congress then passed a
law obliging it to help Taiwan defend itself.
All political lives end…
Mr Ma says relations with America are better than they have ever been
at least since 1979 and perhaps before. Others are doubtful. In all the
talk of America’s “pivot” to Asia, its promises to Taiwan are rarely
mentioned. Many in Taiwan paid attention when John Mearsheimer, an
American academic, suggested in the
National Interest,
a policy journal, that there is “a reasonable chance American
policymakers will eventually conclude that it makes good strategic sense
to abandon Taiwan and to allow China to coerce it into accepting
unification.” For some, abandonment is a fact of life and unification a
matter of time. “No one is on our side strategically, diplomatically,
politically; we have to count on China’s goodwill,” an academic in
Taipei argues.
Mr Ma has tried to steer what seems a sensible middle course between
such defeatism and the adventurism of those in the DPP who would like to
confront and challenge China. But he sounds weary with the effort, and
Taiwan’s people seem weary of him. Their pragmatism and the DPP’s
internecine strife may yet see them elect another KMT president in 2016.
But if Mr Ma hoped to leave office with cross-strait relations
stabilised, and with his own role as an historic peacemaker recognised
on both sides and around the world, he seems likely to be disappointed.
- See more at:
http://www.economist.com/news/asia/21599812-ambitions-ma-ying-jeou-taiwans-president-collide-popular-suspicion-china#sthash.74E8Fq3f.dpuf
Banyan
On the antlers of a dilemma
The ambitions of Ma Ying-jeou, Taiwan’s president, collide with popular suspicion of China Mar 29th 2014 |
From the print edition
THE fresh-faced good looks have been lined and drawn by the cares of office. His immaculate English is forsaken for the dignity of immaculate Mandarin. Patient replies to questions come wearily, as if said many times before. Yet, six years into his presidency, Ma Ying-jeou’s hair remains as lush and jet-black as any Chinese Politburo member’s. And, speaking in the presidential palace in Taipei, he remains as unwilling as any leader in Beijing to admit to any fundamental flaws in strategy.
Perhaps Mr Ma draws inspiration from his portrait of Sun Yat-sen, founder of his ruling party, the Kuomintang (KMT), and, in 1912, of the Republic of China to which Taiwan’s government still owes its name. Sun is revered as a nationalist hero not just by the KMT but, across the Taiwan Strait, by the Chinese Communist Party too. Mr Ma may also hope to be feted on both sides of the strait—in his case as a leader responsible for a historic rapprochement. For now, however, reconciliation between Taiwan and China remains distant. And Mr Ma, once the KMT’s most popular politician, is taunted by opponents as the “9% president”, a reference to his approval ratings in opinion polls last autumn.
Economic integration Improving relations with China has been the central theme of his administration, after the tensions of eight years of rule by the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP), which leans towards declaring formal independence from the mainland. Mr Ma can boast of 21 agreements signed with China. He reels off the numbers of two fast-integrating economies: a tenfold increase in six years in mainland tourists to Taiwan, to 2.85m in 2013; cross-strait flights from none at all to 118 every day; two-way trade, including with Hong Kong, up to $160 billion a year.
China’s strategy to reabsorb Taiwan is plain. As the island’s economy becomes more intertwined with that of the vast mainland, China thinks, resistance to unification will wane. Then Taiwan becomes an “autonomous” part of China—like Hong Kong, though allowed its own army. Taiwan will return to the motherland without resort to the missiles and increasingly powerful armed forces ranged against it. But as Mr Ma sees it, cross-strait “rapprochement” is a first line of defence against Chinese aggression, since “a unilateral move by the mainland to change the status quo by non-peaceful means would come at a dear price”. Politics in Taiwan is framed as a debate about independence or unification but is really about preserving the status quo.
The next step in rapprochement with China would be a meeting between political leaders. In February in Nanjing, once the capital of a KMT government of all China, ministers from China and Taiwan held their first formal meeting since 1949. Mr Ma hoped to meet China’s president, Xi Jinping, in Beijing this November, at the Asia-Pacific Economic Co-operation (APEC) summit. To accommodate Hong Kong and Taiwan, APEC’s members are not “countries” but “economies”. So Mr Xi and Mr Ma could meet as “economic leaders”, sidestepping the tricky protocol that usually dogs relations, with China viewing Taiwan as a mere province. The Chinese demurred. But Mr Ma thinks a meeting somewhere is “not outside the realm of possibility”.
This backdrop explains why a protest movement against a services-trade agreement with the mainland is more than a little local difficulty for Mr Ma. Students occupying parliament have resorted to undemocratic means, and many of the arguments they and the DPP make about the trade agreement are specious. But they have tapped a vein of popular mistrust of Mr Ma and of economic integration with the mainland. A split persists between native Taiwanese, on the island for generations, and mainlanders, like Mr Ma, whose families came over as the KMT lost the civil war in the 1940s. Protesters portray Mr Ma as either a mainland stooge or as clueless and out of touch. In the occupied parliament, student caricatures give him antlers, a reference to a slip he once made when he appeared to suggest that the deer-antlers used in Chinese medicine were in fact hair from the animal’s ears.
Mr Ma says public opinion supports a “Ma-Xi” summit. Joseph Wu of the DPP, however, claims such a meeting would actually damage the KMT in the next presidential election, due in 2016; rather, he says, Mr Ma is trying to leave a personal legacy. The DPP’s lead in the polls alarms not just the Chinese government but also America, which could do without another flare-up in a dangerous region. The stronger China grows, the more Taiwan’s security depends on commitments from America. It switched diplomatic recognition to Beijing in 1979, but Congress then passed a law obliging it to help Taiwan defend itself.
All political lives end…
Mr Ma says relations with America are better than they have ever been at least since 1979 and perhaps before. Others are doubtful. In all the talk of America’s “pivot” to Asia, its promises to Taiwan are rarely mentioned. Many in Taiwan paid attention when John Mearsheimer, an American academic, suggested in the National Interest, a policy journal, that there is “a reasonable chance American policymakers will eventually conclude that it makes good strategic sense to abandon Taiwan and to allow China to coerce it into accepting unification.” For some, abandonment is a fact of life and unification a matter of time. “No one is on our side strategically, diplomatically, politically; we have to count on China’s goodwill,” an academic in Taipei argues.
Mr Ma has tried to steer what seems a sensible middle course between such defeatism and the adventurism of those in the DPP who would like to confront and challenge China. But he sounds weary with the effort, and Taiwan’s people seem weary of him. Their pragmatism and the DPP’s internecine strife may yet see them elect another KMT president in 2016. But if Mr Ma hoped to leave office with cross-strait relations stabilised, and with his own role as an historic peacemaker recognised on both sides and around the world, he seems likely to be disappointed.
Economist.com/blogs/banyan
- See more at: http://www.economist.com/news/asia/21599812-ambitions-ma-ying-jeou-taiwans-president-collide-popular-suspicion-china#sthash.74E8Fq3f.dpuf
and the DPP's internecine strife may....
internecine
Line breaks:
inter|necine
adjective
1Destructive to both sides in a conflict: the region’s history of savage internecine warfare
1.1Relating to conflict within a group: the party shrank from the trauma of more internecine strife
Origin
mid 17th century (in the sense 'deadly, characterized by great slaughter'): from Latin internecinus, based on inter- 'among' + necare 'to kill'.
Banyan
On the antlers of a dilemma
The ambitions of Ma Ying-jeou, Taiwan’s president, collide with popular suspicion of China
THE fresh-faced good looks have been lined and drawn by the cares of
office. His immaculate English is forsaken for the dignity of immaculate
Mandarin. Patient replies to questions come wearily, as if said many
times before. Yet, six years into his presidency, Ma Ying-jeou’s hair
remains as lush and jet-black as any Chinese Politburo member’s. And,
speaking in the presidential palace in Taipei, he remains as unwilling
as any leader in Beijing to admit to any fundamental flaws in strategy.
Perhaps Mr Ma draws inspiration from his portrait of Sun Yat-sen,
founder of his ruling party, the Kuomintang (KMT), and, in 1912, of the
Republic of China to which Taiwan’s government still owes its name. Sun
is revered as a nationalist hero not just by the KMT but, across the
Taiwan Strait, by the Chinese Communist Party too. Mr Ma may also hope
to be feted on both sides of the strait—in his case as a leader
responsible for a historic rapprochement. For now, however,
reconciliation between Taiwan and China remains distant. And Mr Ma, once
the KMT’s most popular politician, is taunted by opponents as the “9%
president”, a reference to his approval ratings in opinion polls last
autumn.
Improving relations with China has been the central theme of his
administration, after the tensions of eight years of rule by the
Democratic Progressive Party (DPP), which leans towards declaring formal
independence from the mainland. Mr Ma can boast of 21 agreements signed
with China. He reels off the numbers of two fast-integrating economies:
a tenfold increase in six years in mainland tourists to Taiwan, to
2.85m in 2013; cross-strait flights from none at all to 118 every day;
two-way trade, including with Hong Kong, up to $160 billion a year.
China’s strategy to reabsorb Taiwan is plain. As the island’s economy
becomes more intertwined with that of the vast mainland, China thinks,
resistance to unification will wane. Then Taiwan becomes an “autonomous”
part of China—like Hong Kong, though allowed its own army. Taiwan will
return to the motherland without resort to the missiles and increasingly
powerful armed forces ranged against it. But as Mr Ma sees it,
cross-strait “rapprochement” is a first line of defence against Chinese
aggression, since “a unilateral move by the mainland to change the
status quo by non-peaceful means would come at a dear price”. Politics
in Taiwan is framed as a debate about independence or unification but is
really about preserving the status quo.
The next step in rapprochement with China would be a meeting between
political leaders. In February in Nanjing, once the capital of a KMT
government of all China, ministers from China and Taiwan held their
first formal meeting since 1949. Mr Ma hoped to meet China’s president,
Xi Jinping, in Beijing this November, at the Asia-Pacific Economic
Co-operation (APEC) summit. To accommodate Hong Kong and Taiwan, APEC’s
members are not “countries” but “economies”. So Mr Xi and Mr Ma could
meet as “economic leaders”, sidestepping the tricky protocol that
usually dogs relations, with China viewing Taiwan as a mere province.
The Chinese demurred. But Mr Ma thinks a meeting somewhere is “not
outside the realm of possibility”.
This backdrop explains why a protest movement against a
services-trade agreement with the mainland is more than a little local
difficulty for Mr Ma. Students occupying parliament have resorted to
undemocratic means, and many of the arguments they and the DPP make
about the trade agreement are specious. But they have tapped a vein of
popular mistrust of Mr Ma and of economic integration with the mainland.
A split persists between native Taiwanese, on the island for
generations, and mainlanders, like Mr Ma, whose families came over as
the KMT lost the civil war in the 1940s. Protesters portray Mr Ma as
either a mainland stooge or as clueless and out of touch. In the
occupied parliament, student caricatures give him antlers, a reference
to a slip he once made when he appeared to suggest that the deer-antlers
used in Chinese medicine were in fact hair from the animal’s ears.
Mr Ma says public opinion supports a “Ma-Xi” summit. Joseph Wu of the
DPP, however, claims such a meeting would actually damage the KMT in
the next presidential election, due in 2016; rather, he says, Mr Ma is
trying to leave a personal legacy. The DPP’s lead in the polls alarms
not just the Chinese government but also America, which could do without
another flare-up in a dangerous region. The stronger China grows, the
more Taiwan’s security depends on commitments from America. It switched
diplomatic recognition to Beijing in 1979, but Congress then passed a
law obliging it to help Taiwan defend itself.
All political lives end…
Mr Ma says relations with America are better than they have ever been
at least since 1979 and perhaps before. Others are doubtful. In all the
talk of America’s “pivot” to Asia, its promises to Taiwan are rarely
mentioned. Many in Taiwan paid attention when John Mearsheimer, an
American academic, suggested in the
National Interest,
a policy journal, that there is “a reasonable chance American
policymakers will eventually conclude that it makes good strategic sense
to abandon Taiwan and to allow China to coerce it into accepting
unification.” For some, abandonment is a fact of life and unification a
matter of time. “No one is on our side strategically, diplomatically,
politically; we have to count on China’s goodwill,” an academic in
Taipei argues.
Mr Ma has tried to steer what seems a sensible middle course between
such defeatism and the adventurism of those in the DPP who would like to
confront and challenge China. But he sounds weary with the effort, and
Taiwan’s people seem weary of him. Their pragmatism and the DPP’s
internecine strife may yet see them elect another KMT president in 2016.
But if Mr Ma hoped to leave office with cross-strait relations
stabilised, and with his own role as an historic peacemaker recognised
on both sides and around the world, he seems likely to be disappointed.
- See more at:
http://www.economist.com/news/asia/21599812-ambitions-ma-ying-jeou-taiwans-president-collide-popular-suspicion-china#sthash.74E8Fq3f.dpuf
on the horns of a dilemma
Faced with a decision involving equally unfavourable alternatives. More example sentences
- Meanwhile, at the Erinsborough Clinic, the young hairless harpy, found herself on the horns of a dilemma, so to speak.
- Scottish
solicitors find themselves on the horns of a dilemma in attempting to
comply with recent money laundering legislation, according to Joe Platt,
president of the Law Society of Scotland.
- The judge admitted he was on the horns of a dilemma.
Between a Rock and a Hard Place may refer to:
[edit] See also
****
Between a rock and a hard place
Meaning
In difficulty, faced with a choice between two unsatisfactory options.
Origin
This phrase originated in the USA in the early part of the 20th century. It is the American manifestation of a phrase that exists in several forms in other cultures.
The dilemma of being in a position where one is faced with two equally unwelcome options appears to lie deep in the human psyche. Language always reflects people's preoccupations and there are several phrases that express this predicament. The first of these quite literally conveys the uncomfortable nature of the choice between two lemmas (propositions), i.e. 'on the horns of a dilemma'. Other phrases that compare two less than desirable alternatives are 'the lesser of two evils', 'between the devil and the deep blue sea', 'between Scylla and Charybdis', 'an offer you can't refuse' and 'Hobson's choice'.
The earliest known printed citation of 'between a rock and a hard place' is in the American Dialect Society's publication Dialect Notes V, 1921:
"To be between a rock and a hard place, ...to be bankrupt. Common in Arizona in recent panics; sporadic in California."
The 'recent panics' referred to in that citation are undoubtedly the events surrounding the so-called US Bankers' Panic of 1907. This financial crisis was especially damaging to the mining and railroad industries of the western states.
In 1917, the lack of funding precipitated by the earlier banking crisis led to a dispute between copper mining companies and mineworkers in Bisbee, Arizona. The workers, some of whom had organized in labour unions, approached the company management with a list of demands for better pay and conditions. These were refused and subsequently many workers at the Bisbee mines were forcibly deported to New Mexico.
It's tempting to surmise, given that the mineworkers were faced with a choice between harsh and underpaid work at the rock-face on the one hand and unemployment and poverty on the other, that this is the source of the phrase. The phrase began to be used frequently in US newspapers in the late 1930s, often with the alternative wording 'between a rock and a hard spot'.
A more recent example of the use of the expression, and one for which it seems gruesomely apt, is recounted in the 2010 film 127 Hours, which is based on Aron Ralston's book Between a Rock and a Hard Place. The memoir recounts the 127 hours that Ralston spent alone and trapped by a boulder in Robbers Roost, Utah, after a climbing accident in April 2003, eventually opting for the 'hard place' of freeing himself by cutting off part of his right arm.
經濟學人諷馬「困境中的鹿茸」 網友嘲：國際認證 【09:55】
英國《經濟學人》報導兩岸服貿事件，以「困境中的鹿茸」調侃馬政府。（圖擷取自《經濟學人》官方網站）
〔本報訊〕太陽花學運延燒國際，英國《經濟學人》日前專訪總統馬英九，期盼釐清兩岸服務貿易協議的爭議；《經濟學人》最新一期的報導中，則以「困境中的鹿茸」為題，描繪馬英九現況，被台灣網友戲稱鹿茸已獲「國際認證」！
《經濟學人》於最新一期的「榕園論壇」（Banyan）報導台灣的服貿議題、太陽花學運，並以「困境中的鹿茸」（On the antlers of dilemma）為大標題，諷刺馬英九的處境。
文章評論服貿議題，先是調侃馬英九「當了6年總統，頭髮仍像中國領導人一樣，疏得相當油亮」；隨後更指出，馬政府更如同北京高層，不願正面承認策略性錯誤。另外，像是「9％總統」、「鹿茸」的失言風波等，也都被撰寫進去。
台灣網友見狀，幽默大嘲「鹿茸已獲國際認證」！更有人諷刺，鹿茸的英文是「antlers」，不知「馬卡茸」英文怎麼念？
The protesters say the trade deal would leave Taiwan open to Chinese pressure
Police put the number of protesters at more than 100,000, but organisers say there were 700,000
The protesters say they are defending democracy
whis・per・er ━━ n.
whispering campaign 口づてに人の名誉・地位を中傷する運動.
spin・y
