It was around 3 AM when I woke up from the cold. I was shivering and still had not eaten any nutrient-rich meal in over 36 hours. Although it had been 12 °C during daytime, the temperature had now dropped below -10 °C. While the last piece of wood slowly burned away inside the nearby fireplace, the remaining flames just created enough light for me to see breath leaving my body as I exhaled. Just when I realized that my guide, who was supposed to sleep on the other side of the traditional yurt, was gone, he silently opened the small wooden entrance door, carefully walked in, put more wood in the fireplace, and went back to sleep. As the flames gracefully started dancing inside in the fireplace while slowly growing bigger again, my eyes, which were barely open, stared at the stars through a small opening located at the centred top part of the yurt. I knew that this trip was going to be demanding, but only 2 days into my journey, I started to doubt that I was properly prepared for this demanding adventure. After I stopped shivering, I slowly drifted back into a deep sleep with one legitimate question crossing my mind: What am I doing here?

Why travel to Mongolia?

Never has it been easier to travel around the globe. With cheap flights and countless destinations available at any time, finding remote places to experience true isolation has become a real challenge, especially for solo adventurers like me. When I was desperately searching for a new place to explore without hundreds and thousands of other tourists around me, I came across a mysterious and equally attractive country called Mongolia.

“Why would anyone even travel to Mongolia?” my best friend asked me a few days before my departure from Frankfurt, Germany. I hesitated. The more I thought about plausible answers, the more I realized I had none. At least none my friend would have understood. I simply wanted to get out. Getting away from everything and everyone I knew. I wanted to explore. Feel the nature. Experience isolation. And soon I would do exactly that. Before I knew it, I was boarding an airplane that carried me 8300 km across the world to meet a man that barely spoke English. After spending one night in Mongolia’s capital, Ulaanbaatar, I woke up early (06:30 AM) to meet Gamba, a 54-years old local that earned his money by driving tourists across country with his (very old!) Russian jeep. We smiled at each other, shook hands, and got into his vehicle right away. With “yes”, “no”, “sleep”, “food”, and “good” being the only words in his vocabulary, all I could do was pointing out my locations of interest on a paper map. Minutes later, we were on the way towards Khorgo Volcano, the main nature spot I wanted to visit. However, before reaching the actual volcano crater, we scheduled a few stops along the way.

Leaving Ulaanbaatar into the unknown

After we had left Ulaanbaatar behind us, I immediately realized that this wouldn’t be an easy trip. All of a sudden, there were no streets anymore. Gamba seemed confident and I could only assume that he knew where he was going. There was also not much to see. At least nothing that would keep me entertained as we slowly moved forward over bumpy fields and small hills. I got the feeling of being on a different planet. Until today, it is hard for me to grasp the dimensions and the isolating that I experienced during this trip. At the end of the day, it had taken us roughly 7 hours to travel a distance of only 300 km. I was equally exhausted and happy when I saw that we approached some sort of village. A nomad camp located close to the bottom of a small mountain range to be precise.

At this point, I had no idea where exactly we were and was a little nervous about my first night out there in the very isolation I was so desperately seeking while being back home in Germany. Gamba somehow managed to let me know that it cost me 5 US$ to stay at the Ger home for the night. I gladly handed out the cash and was promptly escorted to my temporary home, a traditional yurt with 2 beds inside. One for me and one for Gamba, the kind person that would later walk through the cold Mongolian night a few hours later only to gather new fire wood that kept me from being cold.

Exploring Mongolian desert

At around 8:00 AM, I woke up from the sound of barking dogs. Once again, I noticed that Gamba was gone. This time, however, not to get new firewood. As I stepped outside, I saw him preparing the jeep for the next stage of our journey. On the way to Khorgo Volcano, we intended to stop at Elsen Tasarkhai, a part of the Mongol Els Sand Dunes (also known as the Small Gobi Desert). I knew where we wanted to go, but still had no idea about or current location. It turned out that our nights lodging was surprisingly close to the sand dunes. After only one hour of driving, I could already spot the first sand peaks in the far distance. 30 minutes later, the jeep stopped. Gamba pointed out the desert on the map and we agreed to stay for two hours before continuing the drive. I knew myself and could anticipate that 2 hours were cutting it quite short, considering the number of photos and drone videos I was planning to take. Hectically, I started to gather my gear and headed out towards the highest sand dune I could see in close proximity. The hike was steep and I felt out of breath as I approached the top. I was breathing heavily, leaned forward, and couldn’t believe my eyes.

A view worth the journey

A mixture of accomplishment and freedom suddenly ran through my body. I stared into the distance for a few moments and then slowly turned around. Gambas jeep was barely distinguishable in between the sand dunes. Small breezes of wind created the only sound that accompanied me during this stop. Neither on the way to the sand dunes nor at the desert itself were any other people. Exactly how I imagined it when planning this trip. As I was taking pictures, I was wondering how it would be to walk through the desert all alone. How long would it take? Where would I end up? How far would I get without enough water? The general idea of people discovering places hundreds of years ago always fascinated me. I got caught in all kinds of thoughts when I realized that my 2 hours were almost over already. Slightly dehydrated but entirely happy, I made my way back to the jeep. As I was approaching the vehicle, Gamba waved and smiled at me, almost as if he wanted to make sure that I spotted him in between dozens of other vehicles while, actually, he was the only one around. A funny but very sweet gesture. It made me feel save and, in some way, somehow connected to him. Gamba studied the map for a few minutes and pointed out the next stop, Orkhon Waterfall. My randomly appearing doubts during the previous night varnished. All I felt now was excitement. As the jeep started moving again, I even managed to fall asleep for a while.

Stranded in between Mongolian sand dunes

“Are we already here?” I wondered as the jeep was suddenly reducing its speed and came to a full stop. I opened my eyes, looked around, and saw nothing but sand dunes. What felt like a deep sleep turned out to have been nothing but a 3-minutes nap. Not only were we still in between the sand dunes, we also got stuck. Gamba still seemed pretty relaxed, so I silently followed him outside the vehicle and observed was he was doing. His first attempt was digging sand from underneath the tires. Didn’t work. His second attempt to get us going again was to put a solid piece of wood underneath the back tires. Seemed to work for a second, but then the wood broke and the jeep rolled back into the whole, which got deeper every time we tried to get out. Just while I was wondering what Gamba would try next, another jeep came around the corner. After not seeing anybody since waking up in the morning, how was it possible that another vehicle showed up in exactly that same location? I couldn’t believe it and watched them towing our vehicle out of the sand in no time. While we had already been stuck for about an hour and a half, the “rescue mission” only took 5 minutes. Interestingly, everybody looked super relaxed and, somehow, happy. Not only did I love the nature, but I also started to feel more and more sympathy for Mongolia’s kind and warm-hearted people. What followed this unfortunate incident was another bumpy and rather boring 4-hour drive over hills and empty fields.

A brief visit at Orkhon waterfall

We finally arrived another nomad camp around sunset. It wasn’t entirely dark yet, so I decided to make a quick run to the waterfall, which was only a few minutes away from our yurt. While I was walking towards the waterfall, a stray dog joined my journey. Accompanied by my new animal friend, I climbed over some rocks and finally reached the edge of a steep cliff. I sat down, took in the scenery, and realized that it started to snow. A few sunset-pictures later, I made my way back to the camp.

With a better choice of cloth, or perhaps because I was super exhausted, I comfortably slept through the entire night without waking up. Since I fell asleep quite early, I even woke up before Gamba did (never happened before or after this night ever again!). I silently left the tent and walked around camels, watched people riding horses, and some older women preparing food and making cloths. Gamba woke up about 30 minutes after me and, as every morning, started checking his jeep.

The baby and me

Before leaving, we quicky went back to the family’s main tent to say “goodbye”. We knocked on the wooden door and patiently waited for a few seconds. A woman, breastfeeding her baby, opened the door, smiled, and waved us in. Gamba and her were talking for a few minutes and before I knew it, the woman handed me her baby and left the yurt with my guide. There I was. Alone with the little baby of a woman I didn’t even know the name of. About 15 minutes later, I slowly pushed the door open with my foot and discovered that Gamba, the man that was patiently driving me around the country in his jeep until then, was now horseback riding to help the family gather their cattle. Amazed by this situation and trust the family had put into me, I looked down at the baby and smiled. The baby imitated me and smiled back. To me, moments like this make a journey truly unforgettable.

Arriving and climbing Khorgo volcano

After a small breakfast, we started to head towards our final destination, Khorgo Volcano. Since the distance of 400 km took us about 8 hours (not including breaks), we split it into two trips. This part of the journey was by far the most remote. Between sporadically appearing nomad camps, there was nothing. No cars, no people, not even animals.

Mongolian outback means true isolation. Author walking in the desert with skulls of animals in the background.Photo: Thomas Später

Mongolian outback means true isolation. Photo: Thomas Später

The procedure kept repeating itself. We approached nomad camps, arranged a bed, spent the night, and moved on until we finally arrived. Even 30 minutes before even getting to the volcanos bottom, I was already able to spot it. It was massive and majestic. The surrounding lowlands made it look even bigger. Gamba parked the car and pointed out that I could stay for 2 hours. After I made my way all the way up the volcano, I started taking pictures like a crazy person. The only problem: The volcano crater was way too big for me to capture it in one shot with my DSLR. There was only one logical solution for me. I had to bring the drone up.

Although it was pretty windy, I managed to get some decent shots. I also got really cold, so I decided to head back even though I still had about 45 minutes left. On the way down, I realized that it was starting to snow again. I tried to not slip on the wet rocks and managed to get back to Gamba safe and sound. “Good?” he wanted to know as I closed the jeeps passenger door behind me. I nodded and showed him the pictures and videos of the drone on my cell phone. He was extremely interested and amazed by the footage. After all, I didn’t even know how many of the few people traveling Mongolia also carried a drone before. For all I knew, this could be the first time he saw something like that. Cold, hungry, happy, and sad that the trip slowly came to an end, we drove back to a nearby nomad camp and spent the night.

Many things crossed my mind when I went to sleep that very night. I thought of the places we visited, the positive vibes throughout the entire journey, the isolation, the adventure. I was happy to have accomplished what I did, fully knowing that without Gamba (or any other knowledgeable driver for that matter) none of this would have been possible. The lack of infrastructure, the language problem along the way, the technical difficulties of the car. I could have not dealt with any of this by myself. Little did I know that the problems weren’t over yet.

A rough wake-up call

“Go, go, go” were the words I remember hearing first when Gamba touched my shoulder to wake me up the morning after my volcano visit. I didn’t know what it was, but something seemed off. Gamba collected his stuff and carried everything out of the yurt. Without packing anything, I walked up to the main entrance to see what this was all about. Once I opened the door, I saw two things. First, a very beautiful and clear blue sky. My second observation: Snow. A lot of snow.

While getting ready and loading all my belongings into the jeep, I still didn’t know what the issue really was. All I knew was that we were supposed to begin our 10-hours journey back to Ulaanbaatar. But why the stress? 15 minutes into our homeward journey, I figured it out. The snow was beautiful. If it had been a skiing area or winter resort, it would have been perfect. However, in our case, it covered everything, including the car tire tracks that Gamba used as a general navigation. Especially when crossing river beds, he would follow the tracks that pointed out spots suitable for crossing. Due to the snow, Gamba had to slowly approach the river, dip into the water, and decide whether or not it was possible to cross. The snowfall of that night caused us such a delay that it took us an entire day longer to return to Mongolia’s capital. Crossing the first riverbed alone took us about 3 hours, whereas it took us only 10 minutes the day before.

The final goodbyes

At the end of my journey, Gamba and me took a few pictures together and hugged each other. It wasn’t a regular and quick “goodbye” hug. It was the kind of hug that told a story. A gesture that represented the feeling of two people that spent a very intimate time together, fully aware that they may not see each other again. But who knows? Maybe I will go back one day to see how big the baby has grown by then.

Thomas Später

Thomas Später, PhD, is an experienced backpacking traveler that specializes in adventurous trips around the globe. He has traveled to remote and exotic places, such as Namibia or Mongolia and focuses on landscape and wildlife photography to share the beauty of our planet with others. In 2021, Thomas published a (German) book about Overpopulation and Over-consumption (Die Überbevölkerung). With his awareness of current global issues, he uses his travels to support particularly local hotels and restaurants to raise awareness for the nature and culture of his destinations. Follow Thomas´ adventures on Instagram as well as on his website, World In Frames.

Mongolia reported 61 new coronavirus infections, the coronavirus statistics as of June 21 showed.

28 of them were revealed among persons who had contact with the infected in Ulaanbaatar, 33 other cases were detected in regions.

No new imported cases of COVID-19 were reported.

The death toll makes 2,118 as of June 21.

The world’s biggest miners need to aggressively invest in critical metals or they will hold back the global energy transition away from fossil fuels, a new report shows.

According to PwC’s 19th annual review of the top 40 mining companies, which examines global trends in the industry, future success will depend on whether global miners can take a leading role in the world’s clean energy transition and continue to generate significant stakeholder value.

The resources are there, the report shows. Top miners posted stellar financial results for 2021, with revenues rising by 32% on the back of high commodity prices and prudent cost management.

Their combined net profit reached $159 billion last year, a staggering 127% increase from the $70 billion they recorded in 2020.

Mining companies, however, aren’t spending. Data from Bank of America shows that project spending by ten of the largest mining companies, including BHP, Rio Tinto and Glencore is expected to stay at about $40 billion this year and next. That would put capital expenditures well below a 2012 peak close to $80 billion, WSJ.com reports.

Paul Bendall, global mining leader at PwC, warns it’s unclear how long the record profits run among miners will continue, given the unprecedented change the industry is facing.

“Demand for critical minerals continues to surge, operating environments are getting more challenging and new players are emerging,” Bendall says.

Figures from the International Energy Agency suggests that annual critical minerals demand from clean energy technologies will reach more than $400 billion by 2050.

A telling figure that proves the point: Market capitalizations for critical minerals miners outperformed the average reached by the Top 40 by between 49% to 147%.

“Companies need to position themselves to meet the growing demands for critical minerals, evolving customer expectations and the need to innovate to deliver higher value across the entire supply chain,” Bendall says.

To do that, PwC notes that sector players must overcome obstacles, including development timelines, price volatility, geopolitical risks, stakeholder expectations, economies of scale and economic resource scarcity.

The review highlights four areas top miners should be focusing on, including evaluating their exposure to critical minerals, identifying opportunities to own more of the supply chain, deploying capital to meet net zero emissions needs and strengthening stakeholders’ trust.

Canada’s potential

Canada could become a world leader in the energy transition given its vast resources, skilled workforce, high standards on environmental, social and governance (ESG) matters and proximity to markets that need its critical minerals.

The country is rich in lithium, graphite, nickel, cobalt, aluminum and manganese, key ingredients for advanced battery manufacturing and storage technology.

Some of these commodities, particularly copper, lithium and cobalt are already experiencing supply constrains. This, PwC warns, may have major implications for the cost and pace of the global uptake and installation of energy transition technologies.

Ottawa has taken some steps to secure domestic supply of critical minerals and metals, earmarking C$3.8 billion ($2.9bn) in the recent federal budget for this purpose.

Few countries are as vast and mineral rich as Canada, so critical mineral mining opportunities are significant.

British Columbia is the nation’s largest copper producer, the only producer of molybdenum, and though it doesn’t have operating nickel mines, there are two nickel projects in the early exploration and development stages

Ontario, Quebec and Newfoundland have significant nickel and cobalt deposits, Saskatchewan has the largest high-grade uranium resources in the world, and Alberta and B.C. have the potential to produce lithium extracted from oilfield brines.

As for Canada’s north, the Northwest Territories have “pretty well everything, if you can get access to it,” Pierre Gratton, president and CEO of the Mining Association of Canada, noted in May, when commenting on Justin Trudeau’s government’s strategy.

“There isn’t really a place in Canada that can’t be part of this strategy.”

A team of the Mongolia-Hollywood joint film project ‘Godsend’ announced that it has received the first funding.

The project aims to develop knowledge economy, increase export’s opportunities, create jobs, raise people's knowledge about tourism and culture, promote the development of Mongolian film industry in partnership with Hollywood, alongside showing the real image of great culture and the beauty of rich tradition of Mongolia by way of changing the stereotype about Chinggis Khaan and Mongolian people.

“The film’s shooting will be held in Mongolia. I fully support the ‘Godsend’ project, which provides an opportunity to bring Mongolia's creative industries to the forefront of the international stage,” said director and actor G.Erdenebileg.

The Godsend research team consisting of Hollywood producers and heads of units, will arrive in Ulaanbaatar this month to hold a meeting with corresponding representatives of Mongolian film industry (local production companies, film crews, artists) and government officials supporting the project.

Producer James Liotta, who wrote the screenplay, said, "‘Godsend’ project is fully aligned with some objectives reflected in the ‘Vision-2050’ Mongolia's long-term policy document and efforts being put by the Government to implement international film projects in Mongolia.”

The film depicts realistically the significant contributions made by Mongolia and Great Chinggis Khaan. “The project is based on participatory, diversity and multicultural knowledge. As far as I know, current project is the best in Hollywood,” said producer Wendy Kram.

The revenues of hotels rated between 3 to 5 stars in Mongolia has risen by more than MNT 31.6 billion or 89.3 percent till the end of April 2022. As for regular hotels in Mongolia, the revenue increased to MNT 31.7 billion or 79.4 percent.

Therefore, hotel industry generated MNT 99 billion in revenue in the first four months of 2022.

Mongolia has its own unique culture, customs, and way of life that appears in its tourism sector. Though Mongolia has expanse, broad lands with rich history and cultural landscape, the tourism sector is not developing at a high level due to inadequate infrastructure, unprofessional services, lack of communications, insufficient investment, and seasonal effects.

Due to the coronavirus pandemic, Mongolia went under strict regulation since 26th February of 2020 and most of the organizations and companies were closed because of lockdown. Thereof, most of the business sectors became stagnant and mainly affected tourism field because of this lockdown process.

It means, 88 thousand employment opportunity affected directly, and individuals and companies which are connected with tourism field such as motels, hotels, resorts, camps, museums, cinema theaters, entertainment service places, art shows, events and activities, Naadam festivals and its organizing companies, transportation service individuals and companies faced following direct loss.

Russia has become China's biggest supplier of oil as the country sold discounted crude to Beijing amid sanctions over the Ukraine war.

Imports of Russian oil rose by 55% from a year earlier to a record level in May, displacing Saudi Arabia as China's biggest provider.

China has ramped up purchases of Russian oil despite demand dampened by Covid curbs and a slowing economy.

In February, China and Russia declared their friendship had "no limits".

And Chinese companies, including state refining giant Sinopec and state-run Zhenhua Oil, have increased their purchases of Russian crude in recent months after being offered heavy discounts as buyers in Europe and the US shunned Russian energy in line with sanctions over its war on Ukraine.

The imports into China, which include supplies pumped through the East Siberia Pacific Ocean pipeline and shipments by sea, totalled nearly 8.42m tonnes last month, according to data from the Chinese General Administration of Customs.

That pushed Saudi Arabia - formerly China's biggest source of crude oil - into second place with 7.82m tonnes.

In March, the US and UK said they would ban Russian oil, while the European Union has been working towards ending its reliance on Russian gas, as the West steps up the economic response to the invasion of Ukraine.

At the time, US President Joe Biden said the move targeted "the main artery of Russia's economy".

Energy exports are a vital source of revenue for Russia but the move is also likely to impact Western consumers.

Last week, a report by the Centre for Research on Energy and Clean Air think tank said Russia earned almost $100bn (£82bn) in revenue from fossil fuel exports in the first 100 days of the country's invasion of Ukraine, despite a fall in exports in May.

The European Union made up 61% of these imports, worth approximately $59bn.

Overall, exports of Russian oil and gas are falling and Moscow's revenue from energy sales has also declined from a peak of well over $1bn a day in March.

But revenues still exceeded the cost of the Ukraine war during the first 100 days - with the CREA estimating that Russia is spending around $876m per day on the invasion.

Monday's figures also showed that China imported 260,000 tonnes of Iranian crude oil last month, its third shipment of Iran oil since last December.

China has continued to buy Iranian oil despite US sanctions on Tehran.

Viewpoint by Joseph Gerson: The writer is President of the Campaign for Peace, Disarmament and Common Security and Vice-President of the International Peace Bureau.

BERLIN (IDN) — We don’t often think in terms of national independence and nuclear disarmament initiatives, but their intersection lies at the heart of Mongolia’s unique single-state nuclear-weapons-free zone.

During Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT) meetings at the United Nations, I made the acquaintance of Ukraine’s former ambassador to the United Nations Jargalsaikhan Enksaikhan, and more recently in online meetings of the board of the International Peace Bureau.

Unbeknownst to me until earlier this month, in Mongolia’s early Post-Cold War independence in the 1990s, he was the country’s National Security Advisory, largely responsible for charting the country’s foreign policies.

Enksaikhan, as he is called, is a deeply committed nationalist, inspired in no small way by the courage and cleverness of Chinggis Khan (Genghis Khan as he is known in the West.)

Enksaikhan’s primary concerns are interrelated: preserving Mongolia’s independence from China and Russia and building on Mongolia’s hard-won single-state nuclear-weapons-free status.

Enksaikhan’s invitation to travel to Ulaanbaatar for an international conference to mark the 30th anniversary of his organization, Blue Banner, and its three decades of creative political and diplomatic activities to win and build on the NWFZ status could only be honoured.

I had no expectation of contributing much to thinking about nuclear-weapons-free zones, but solidary is important, and his invitation asked me to give talks about current nuclear weapons issues and what to expect in the future. (See https://cpdcs.org/)

Preparing those talks would be a pleasure. But, amidst the tumultuous and dangerous changes in the increasingly confrontational restructuring of the global disorder triggered by the Ukraine War, I thought the conference would provide an excellent opportunity to learn what people across Asia are thinking.

And, except for a couple of books I’d read about Chinggis Khan, I was more than a little curious to catch glimpses of life in Mongolia, the imagined world of yaks and yurts.

This is not the place to go into Mongolian history. It is a vast and beautiful country, with a population of only three million people, well over half of whom now live in the national capital.

In the countryside, there are certainly yurts, many of which are there for people who escape the city on weekends and in the summer, but the city is chock a block with high-rise housing, skyscrapers in the city centre, and snarled traffic jams that rival those of any nation in the Global South. Mongolia was fated to live in a “rough neighbourhood”, sandwiched between China and Russia.

There is the history of the Mongol empire in the 12th and 13th centuries, but more recently it was harshly ruled by China for more than 200 years. Mongolia won its formal independence following the collapse of the Qing dynasty in China and the establishment of the Chinese Republic at the beginning of the last century.

It had its own revolution in the early 1920s when it joined Russian Bolsheviks in defeating White Russian forces who sought to use Mongolia as a base of counter-revolutionary operations. For years Mongolia served as a buffer between Russia and China, oriented more toward Russia as a defence against Chinese control.

At the height of the Sino-Soviet confrontation in the 1960s, the Soviets deployed troops at bases along Ukraine’s southern border and—worse—deployed nuclear weapons in Mongolia.

With the collapse of the Soviet Union, Mongolia regained true if fragile independence, but it navigates the challenges of a landlocked nation, which is dependent on the two Eurasian powers for trade and access to the wider world. It seeks to balance Beijing and Moscow, in part with good relations with the United States and the European Union.

It is a democratic nation, and its growth from a nation with a per capita income of just over $400 thirty years ago to $4,600 today has depended on foreign investment, much of it Chinese.

Then to some of the lessons, I learned in my much too brief time in Ulaanbaatar.

Of course, there are a number of nuclear-weapons-free zones: in Latin America, Southeast Asia, Africa, and long a campaign to win one in the Middle East. It is one way that non-nuclear weapons states have been able to work for their security and contribute to international nuclear disarmament efforts. Ambassador Enksaikhan and his colleagues began their campaign to win what is a unique single state NWFZ in 1992 in reaction and opposition to the Soviet Union having based nuclear weapons in their homeland. Without going into detail here, after achieving it as a government policy, Mongolia’s leaders laboured cleverly and with a dedication to winning recognition of their nuclear freedom from Russia, China and the United Nations. It has been one way, in addition to Mongolia’s outsized participation in international peacekeeping operations, to assert the country’s independence and to make a mark on the world stage.

Mongolia’s leaders have greater ambitions. Recognizing that they are integrally connected with Northeast Asia and nuclear tensions on the Korean peninsula, Blue Banner works with regional partners to encourage negotiations for a Northeast Asia NWFZ, pressing a 3+3 formula first advocated by scholars in Nagasaki. The two Koreas and Japan in the inner core, reinforced by the nuclear powers China, Russia, and the U.S. In addition, as the world hurtles into unrestrained nuclear arms races, Blue Banner advocates the possibility of creating other single state NWFZ, beginning with Ukraine, Bangladesh, and Pacific Island nations/The United Nations General Assembly and Nuclear Non-proliferation Treaty Review Conference, as well as NGO and other forums, provide venues to explore and advance these possibilities.

In something of a first for me, I was invited to brief and hold a discussion with Mongolia’s Institute for Strategic Studies. My presentation was based ion on the speech I had written about the radical transformation of the global disorder, which had been building during the Post-Cold War era and was triggered by Putin’s invasion of Ukraine. The discussion went well, but the aha moment for me came when I asked what Mongolia’s most important national security priority is.

The answer: keeping China’s investment limited to 30% of the total foreign investment. With China’s resurging economic influence in Mongolia, Ulan Bator’s leaders see Russia as the most important balancer. But this response and an aggressive soliloquy by a Chinese scholar during our conference to the effect that economic warfare between China and the U.S. is far more important than their provocative military confrontations caught my attention and illuminated the difference in U.S. and Chinese approaches to the empire.

Her statement triggered a decade-old memory from a conference I organized at the American University. In a workshop on the South China Sea, one of Beijing’s leading maritime scholars repeated pressed by Vietnamese and Filipino students angered by China’s claims to 80% of the South China Sea, including land formations and waters within their territorial waters.

Up against the proverbial wall, the Chinese scholar (and official) responded “It doesn’t matter what you say. In time your nations will be so economically dependent on China that you won’t have a choice. Such has been the history of Western colonialism and not so far from China’s tradition of tributary empire.

Two other details caught my attention. China is reburying the coal it imports from Mongolia. This guarantees China a future supply of energy and future fossil fuel emissions while floating Mongolia’s economy and thus increasing its dependence on Beijing.

The other was that while Chinese and many other nations’ television are broadcast in Mongolia, to keep Ulaanbaatar’s influence out of Chinese inner Mongolia, its broadcasts are blocked. (Also worth noting, the volunteer who chauffeured me knows far more about current U.S. movies—from Black Panther to Star Wars—than I).

One of the privileges and pleasures of participating in an international conference, especially after the years of pandemic isolation, is the opportunity to have spontaneous conversations with very thoughtful and knowledgeable people from other countries. This time I especially enjoyed and benefitted from conversations with Vladimir Ivanov, a Russian think-tank researcher, formerly with the East-West Centre in Moscow, now with the Carnegie Institute there.

He understands his role in facilitating mediation between the two powers, but he also faces possible consequences of the next round of legislation targeted against “foreign agents”. His analysis of the disasters of the Ukraine War, the dangers of escalation, and the need for a ceasefire and negotiations were very close to mine. To make sense of Putin’s miscalculations he remarked on his yes men’s fears of giving the tsar unwanted news.

I queried Vladimir about Putin’s health and who will follow Putin, whenever that time comes. Dr Ivanov confirmed that Putin is ill, how seriously he didn’t know. He saw three possible successor scenarios: 1) Putin could name his successor. It would need to be someone who is not in the immediate ruling circle, as they are all compromised by corruption and wouldn’t be popularly accepted. It will have to be a relatively unknown figure coming from the margins, much like Putin when Yeltsin opened the way for him to become the 21st-century tsar. 2) As in the death of Stalin, Putin could be followed by a collective rule that would last for several years before the first among the equals emerges as the dominant leader. 3) Finally, unlikely but possible, should the Russian elite opt to improve its relations with the West, Navalny could be liberated from his Siberian prison and brought to Moscow to revitalize Russia which is in decline and increasingly depending on China.

We discussed Russian Chinese relations. With their competing histories and interests, Ivanov doesn’t believe Russia and China will consummate a formal alliance. Theirs is a marriage of convenience in the face of the American empire. There is a history of Russian transgressions against China, and portions of Russia—including Vladivostok—were once Chinese.

Not unlike Mongolia, Moscow is grateful for the ways Beijing helps to float the Russian economy with its massive purchases of oil and natural gas (purchases which cannot grow significantly because of limited pipeline capacity). But Russia is a proud nation and will want to limit its dependence on its Asian neighbour.

There are also territorial and migration issues. While they have yet to become major points of friction, Russia’s elite worries about Chinese economic and cultural influence in Siberia and Chinese memories of Russian lands that were once Chinese. (These brought to mind China’s claims, and influence in, the South China Sea.)

Several other telling points from our conversation: Russia’s elite believes that socialists in the United States, committed to redistribution of wealth, will be increasing dependency and a parasitical class through increased government control of economic policy.

Although a student of the United States, he hadn’t understood the goal that slavery had in the writing of the constitution, which today reinforces minority and white supremacist rule. And commenting on the fences that we had seen that corral some of Mongolia’s expansive grasslands, Vladimir remarked that, unlike the Americans, Russians have been building fences around their homes as they increasingly isolate themselves from one another.

Chinggis Khan may have died a thousand years ago (1227 to be exact), but he remains Mongolia’s national hero, the father of his nation admired for his administrative skills as well as for his courage and conquests.

He is very much a source of inspiration for men and women who are determined to defend Mongolia’s independence from both China and Russia and to contribute to the elimination of all nuclear weapons. The commitments and wills of these men and women are rare indeed. [IDN-InDepthNews – 20 June 2021]

ashmere is a cornerstone of luxury fashion, and some of the finest cashmere comes from goats grazing in one of the world’s most remote and challenging landscapes, the Gobi Desert in Mongolia.

Now, a NASA-supported collaboration called the Sustainable Cashmere Project is underway with Mongolian goat herders, the luxury fashion industry, a Mongolian mining company, the Wildlife Conservation Society, and Earth scientists from Stanford University using NASA satellite data. The goal is more sustainable grazing practices, which is particularly important in light of recent changes to the size of goat herds.

Using Earth-observing satellites allowed them to monitor vast expanses of desert in a way traditional field monitoring couldn’t support. They used data from the Landsat mission, a joint NASA/U.S. Geological Survey program, information from the Climate Hazards Group InfraRed Precipitation with Station data (CHIRPS), and other Earth data sets to learn how climate and herd sizes impacted rangeland conditions.

Funding for the project comes from the NASA Applied Sciences’ Ecological Forecasting program area, which supports a variety of grazing and farming work internationally and within the U.S. This work in Mongolia is overseen by associate program manager Cindy Schmidt.

Through Wildlife Conservation Society’s efforts in building trust and relationships with herders, they are able to encourage sustainable practices such as rotational grazing and smaller herd sizes while also compensating herders more for their cashmere wool.

Mike Sh.Enkhiin-Od announced his arrival in Dayton on Wednesday afternoon by sharing a simple photo on Instagram of his new team, the Dayton Flyers, huddled on the practice court at the Cronin Center. Hours later, Dayton’s official social media accounts posted a video announcing Sh.Enkhiin-Od’ arrival at the Dayton International Airport after a trip from his home country, Mongolia.

With Sh.Enkhiin-Od on campus, Dayton has its 12-man roster together for the summer, except for Mustapha Amzil, who’s training with Finland’s national team as it prepares for two FIBA World Cup qualifiers: against Sweden on June 30 and against Croatia on July 3.

A 6-foot-8 point guard, Sh.Enkhiin-Od is one of two newcomers on Dayton’s 2022-23 roster and the only freshman. Georgia transfer Tyrone Baker arrived on campus earlier this month. Sh.Enkhiin-Od first visited UD in September 2020. That’s when he received a scholarship offer from the program. On Nov. 1 last season, he sat behind the bench for an exhibition game against Cedarville. He then committed to Dayton on Dec. 15.

Sh.Enkhiin-Od returned to the Dayton area to play in the Flyin’ to the Hoop event in January and sat behind the UD bench during a game against Davidson on March 5. Sh.Enkhiin-Od finished classes at Andrews Osborne Academy and wrapped up his high school career at the International Sports Academy in Willoughby, Ohio, in May. He then traveled home to Mongolia in mid-May.

Sh.Enkhiin-Od ranked 42nd in the class of 2022, according to On3.com, 95th, according to Rivals.com, and 107th, according to 247Sports.com.

E-bikes and electric scooters are becoming increasingly popular in Mongolia as they are often seen as responsible, eco-minded do-gooders. However, the powered bikes carry a higher risk of severe injuries than traditional bicycles.

The Traffic Police Authority of Mongolia has been reported three road accidents related to electric bikes since January, 2022. Apparently, the accidents were caused by Surron, electronic dirt bike. Surron is “restricted use electric motorcycle” and not a pedal-assisted; however, reckless teens are using it just like a bicycle in city roads.

According to Mongolia law, 18 year-olds who has a class A driver’s licence are allowed to drive motorcycles and other electronic cycles with above 4 kWh.

Mongolians has began importing Surron in 2019. The ebike costs MNT 7-10 million.