Roy Chen glances down a street teeming with mainland Chinese shoppers in this market town 2 miles from the mainland border and shakes his head. A native of Sheung Shui, the young entrepreneur resents the onslaught of outside consumers that he says is overwhelming his hometown and making him feel like a second-class citizen. 

“This used to be a street where we could buy cheap toys – now it’s all pharmacies” that cater to mainland Chinese traders, he says. “The prices are very high, and if you’re from Hong Kong and need to buy a little medicine, the clerks just ignore you.”

Down the block, throngs of mainland buyers pack the stores, lining the sidewalks with their ubiquitous roller bags. “It’s like this every day,” says a saleswoman in a navy-blue smock, as she hands out big canisters of baby formula. 

Millions of mainlanders, some with multiple-entry permits, take advantage of Hong Kong’s tax-free status and lower prices to snap up medicine, cosmetics, infant formula, and other goods with brand names trusted by mainland consumers. Many of them, known as “parallel traders,” repackage the goods in small parcels to avoid taxes and resell them for a profit across the border.

The voracious appetite for such products stems partly from the mainland’s problem with counterfeit goods. “They don’t trust the Chinese formula. Many things in their country are fake,” says one Hong Kong pharmacist. She describes the industrious traders derisively as working “like so many ants, [to] move things from place to place.”

The brisk trade, while profitable for some, has caused rising prices and shortages in baby formula and other key goods for Hong Kongers. It has also driven out small businesses and raised rents as large retailers move in, leading to protests by local people like Mr. Chen. 

The border scene is emblematic of the social, economic, and cultural effects of a growing influx into Hong Kong of mainland Chinese people, companies, and investment since China regained sovereignty over the British colony in 1997. As China has stepped up efforts to integrate Hong Kong with the mainland, Hong Kongers say they feel threatened, facing what they describe as pressure on all fronts.

While more than five months of pro-democracy protests in Hong Kong have focused on Beijing’s political encroachments, they have brought to the forefront deeper divides of culture and identity between Hong Kong and the mainland. Combined with rising nationalist sentiment on both sides of the border, these forces portend a protracted struggle between the world’s biggest communist power and the quasi-democratic territory on its southern flank. That struggle has taken an ominous turn in recent days and weeks, as police have shot three protesters, and another protester died after a fall, fueling widespread anger and more demonstrations. Beijing warned this week that Hong Kong is slipping into “terrorism,” and has signaled plans for stepping up security while tightening political and legal controls over the territory.

Mainland Chinese visitors to Hong Kong have surged from 2 million in 1997 to about 50 million last year. Meanwhile, under a program that allows up to 150 mainlanders to move to Hong Kong on a one-way permit every day, more than 1 million mainland Chinese have moved to Hong Kong to become permanent residents – a significant addition to the territory’s population of 7.4 million. 

ANN SCOTT TYSON/THE CHRISTIAN SCIENCE MONITOR

Mainland shoppers, taking advantage of Hong Kong’s tax-free goods, swarm markets near Hong Kong’s border with mainland China.

While the flow of mainland labor has contributed to Hong Kong’s overall economic growth, many Hong Kong natives stress the negative impact, such as competition for jobs, resources, transport, services, and housing. They use ominous – even discriminatory – language, comparing mainlanders to a plague of locusts.

The more they live cheek by jowl with mainlanders, the more Hong Kong people are embracing their own distinct local identity – with many stressing how different they are from their northern compatriots. Politically, they say, Hong Kong people value the rule of law, and the freedom to speak their minds and question authority; mainlanders are brainwashed by propaganda and blindly follow Beijing. Culturally, they stress, Hong Kongers speak Cantonese, which is unintelligible to Mandarin-speaking mainlanders, and have different standards when it comes to social etiquette, hygiene, and civility. 

“There is an emergence of a very strong local identity in this movement ... that I have never seen before,” says Stan Hok-Wui Wong, a social scientist at The Hong Kong Polytechnic University.

This more assertive Hong Kong identity is evident across generations, classes, and regions of the territory – from border towns and traditional clan villages in the New Territories, to the densely inhabited neighborhoods of Kowloon and the business districts of Hong Kong Island, according to interviews with scores of people in Hong Kong. 

It is amplified by Hong Kongers’ concerns about Beijing’s efforts in recent years to tighten its grip over the semi-autonomous territory, and the erosion of their rights and freedoms. 

“The [mainland] Chinese pressure is everywhere,” says Stephen, a history student, as he attended a large rally one night this fall in downtown Hong Kong’s Edinburgh Place on the shore of Victoria Harbor.

“Young people are discontent over this cultural and social invasion of Hong Kong,” as well as the economic influence, he says. “Here is a very iconic example,” he says, pointing behind him to the growing number of Chinese state-owned companies visible on Hong Kong’s glittering skyline.

“We are afraid that the speed of the colonization will be faster than we expected,” he says. (Stephen and some other people interviewed for this story provided only their first or last name, or a pseudonym, to protect their privacy.)

Such broad concerns about mainland encroachment have fueled this year’s mass political activism. Deeply distrustful of Hong Kong’s government and police, Hong Kongers have banded together and repeatedly taken to the streets to defend their interests, with by far the biggest wave of protests erupting in June. The protests began over a proposed extradition bill – withdrawn last month - that would have allowed Hong Kong citizens to be extradited to the mainland for trial in courts controlled by the Communist Party. Protesters also demand that the government allow an independent investigation of police conduct and institute universal suffrage to elect Hong Kong’s chief executive.

BOBBY YIP/REUTERS

A mainland visitor poses for a photo along Hong Kong’s harbor.

Those who don’t take to the streets often provide logistical or moral support. Mr. Chen, the small-business owner from Sheung Shui, backs Hong Kong’s protesters by giving them water and supplies. “My little brother is on the front lines” of the demonstrations, he adds proudly.

“If Hong Kong is not free in the future, then we will be no different from the mainland,” he says. Mainland people “don’t understand us. They say, ‘Don’t wage revolution in Hong Kong!’ But then they come and take advantage of what we have.”

Economic tensions

Along Women’s Street, mainland immigrants sell purses and watches, silk robes and Spider-Man backpacks at outdoor market stalls that line the narrow road in Mong Kok, a densely populated neighborhood on Hong Kong’s Kowloon Peninsula. 

A sudden rain sends the mostly female clerks scurrying to hoist blue tarps to protect their wares. Wearing a white T-shirt and jeans with her hair in a ponytail, one clerk, Ms. Liu, sums up her priorities since moving to Hong Kong from the mainland a decade ago. “You make a living. That’s all that matters,” Ms. Liu says, reflecting an attitude common among mainlanders here. 

Mainland immigrants like Ms. Liu generally have a lower level of education and job skills than Hong Kongers, and come to the southern city in search of economic opportunity, better wages, and a higher standard of living. 

But although they provide an injection of younger laborers that Hong Kong needs, the immigrants can undercut local workers by accepting lower pay. “They take your jobs!” exclaims Alex, a Hong Kong resident and tour guide, explaining how his father lost his painting job because a mainlander agreed to work for half the wage.

In the eyes of many Hong Kongers, mainland immigrants are also consuming social services – and public housing – that are then unavailable for needy locals. Many of the immigrants are younger women and children who come to reunite with Hong Kong spouses and do not work. They are allowed to join their spouses living in public housing, while longtime Hong Kong residents must meet strict income criteria and wait more than five years to gain access to low-income flats. 

“It’s not fair,” says Mr. Wong, a civil servant in Hong Kong’s Housing Department who is critical of government policy. “The Chinese [immigrants] don’t have to show their income to get housing and social benefits,” he says, as he stands on the sidelines of a recent rally in downtown Hong Kong.

TYRONE SIU/REUTERS

Pro-China supporter Alex Yeung, owner of Wah Kee Restaurant, takes a selfie next to a giant Chinese flag as he and others celebrate National Day of the People’s Republic of China on Oct. 1, 2019.

The shortage of the heavily subsidized public housing is a dire issue in Hong Kong, where the high-rise apartment buildings are home for 3.3 million people – or about 45% of the population. Meanwhile, sky-high prices put private property out of reach for most. Hong Kong is the most expensive place to own a home in the world, according to data from the World Economic Forum. At current rates, it would take about 20 years for the average skilled service worker in Hong Kong to afford to buy a 650-square-foot flat in the city center. Average rents are close to the average monthly wages of workers.

The problem is rooted in a shortage of land for development, and government policy, but has been exacerbated in part by growing demand from wealthy mainlanders. Hong Kong is the favorite offshore property market for mainland buyers, according to an October survey by the Swiss investment bank UBS.

“Chinese people move to Hong Kong just looking for resources – housing, medical care,” says Jimmy, a real estate broker on Hong Kong Island. “If they contribute to Hong Kong we don’t mind, but if they simply take things, we don’t like it. The money is all from our taxes.”

Immigration programs that attract wealthy investors and professionals from the mainland have also drawn concern from Hong Kong’s more highly educated, white-collar workers, who see big Chinese firms filling jobs with mainland employees.

“In the recruitment, they prefer mainlanders rather than locals, especially when the daily operation of the enterprise will use Mandarin,” says Nicholas, a Hong Kong native who will soon enter the workforce as a college graduate. “That causes a disadvantage for Hong Kong people to compete for jobs,” he says.

Feeling besieged economically, Hong Kongers blame the north. “From the local perspective, many of the mainlanders are in direct competition with locals,” says Professor Wong. “The superrich and the low-skilled are competing away the resources that are supposed to be for Hong Kong people.” 

THOMAS PETER/REUTERS

Apartment buildings loom out of the hills of Hong Kong, the most expensive place to own a home in the world.

Such blame is shortsighted, some say, noting that young immigrants help rejuvenate Hong Kong’s aging population. “If we do our job properly, to make sure they are welcome, their skill set can be fully utilized,” says Paul Yip, chair professor in the department of social work at The University of Hong Kong. 

Moreover, Hong Kong’s government needs to “address the deep-rooted problems” such as housing and provide greater training and opportunities for Hong Kong’s youths, he says. In the absence of such measures, “the resentment goes both ways,” says Professor Yip.

As the us-against-them mentality toward mainlanders grows, so does Hong Kongers’ collective identity as a distinct people with their own culture, place, and destiny.

'One country, two nationalisms'

Tucked away amid the verdant hills of northwestern Hong Kong, an ancient village of the powerful Tang clan seems far removed from the high emotions and intensity of the neon city. 

Rural clan strongholds are traditionally conservative and pro-Beijing. But even here, pride in Hong Kong’s culture, unique character, and activism as distinct from the mainland is growing. “Hong Kong people are braver” than mainlanders because they dare to speak their minds, says one young clansman, Tang Kuho, as he stops to visit along a village path. 

Mr. Tang, who is training to be a Hong Kong firefighter, strongly supports peaceful protests in the territory. In contrast, Mr. Tang says, mainlanders keep quiet out of fear of government retribution, and also because propaganda and patriotic education give them an overly rosy view of their country and its history. “Mainland people can’t say what they think,” he says.

Farther down the path next to an elegant Tang clan ancestral hall, Ms. Yang, a mainland woman who married into the clan, sells traditional homemade sesame sweets. Since moving to Hong Kong from her hometown of Changsha in China’s Hunan province three years ago, Ms. Yang has also felt the widening divide between Hong Kong and mainland people. 

“Hong Kong people are relatively xenophobic,” she says. “They don’t want to have contact with us; it’s that simple.”

Mainlanders who arrived in Hong Kong after 1997 are considered “outlanders,” she says. Earlier waves of immigrants consider themselves “Hong Kong people,” she says, including her husband’s grandmother, who arrived some 80 years ago.

Feeling alienated, Ms. Yang relies on friendships with other young mainland mothers. “We have our own circle. We take the children to school together, so it’s easy to meet them. We support one another,” she says. Her overall feeling about Hong Kong? “I don’t like it. I want to return to the mainland – about 80% of us want to move back.”

ANN SCOTT TYSON/THE CHRISTIAN SCIENCE MONITOR

“Hong Kong people are relatively xenophobic. They don’t want to have contact with us; it’s that simple.” – Ms. Yang, who moved to Hong Kong from mainland China

Although they share Chinese ethnicity, Hong Kongers and mainlanders have lived in different worlds for much of the last two centuries. During 150 years of British colonial administration from 1841 to 1997, Hong Kong absorbed liberal political values under a British legal system and, while never a democracy, had a robust civil society and saw the beginnings of representative government. 

“Hong Kong has been developing in a very liberal political environment. All these Hong Kong elites were educated in Britain, studying law at the best British universities,” says Jean-Pierre Cabestan, a political science professor at Hong Kong Baptist University. “That is part of the DNA of the Hong Kong people.”

China’s communist rulers, in contrast, adopted a Soviet-inspired style of governance and political culture. Many Hong Kong people belong to families of refugees who fled during China’s 1949 communist revolution and the political unrest that followed. “They knew their money would be confiscated so they came to Hong Kong,” Professor Cabestan says. “The anti-communist DNA is very strong in Hong Kong.” 

“This explains the gap ... between China and Hong Kong.” 

As China’s leaders have moved to tighten the Communist Party’s controls, especially since party chief Xi Jinping took power in 2012, Hong Kong has pushed back. Hong Kong has increasingly resisted Beijing’s ongoing efforts to impose national policies – from a draconian national security law to “patriotic” education – that many in the territory believe encroach on their rights outlined in the “one country, two systems” framework under which China resumed sovereignty in 1997. 

“China has tried to subsume Hong Kongers since 1997, but their stateless nationalism has, paradoxically, become more consolidated through their struggles,” writes  Brian C.H. Fong, a comparative political scientist at The Education University of Hong Kong, in an October article.

Mass protests for human rights and democracy in 2003, 2014, and this year have solidified the territory’s unique political identity. Meanwhile, nationalist sentiment has grown in the mainland, bolstered by party propaganda. To describe these trends, Professor Fong coined the phrase “one country, two nationalisms.” Each seems to be reinforcing the other: As Hong Kong’s protesters push for greater autonomy from Beijing’s autocratic regime, Chinese officials and state-run media denounce them as separatist rioters backed by hostile foreign forces who must be reined in. (The vast majority of Hong Kong protesters seek autonomy, not independence from China.)

“Ironically, instead of successfully assimilating Hongkongese into one Chinese nation, Beijing’s incorporation strategies are leading to a rise of peripheral nationalism in the city-state and waves of counter-mobilization,” Professor Fong writes.

Uncharted territory

These divergent outlooks are playing out in tensions between local and mainland students on university campuses in Hong Kong, which have intensified with a handful of recent violent confrontations between Hong Kong and mainland students. This, coupled with serious clashes between protesters and police on campuses over the past week, has led many mainland students to flee across the border, according to press reports.

Earlier this fall at The Chinese University of Hong Kong, rising on lush hills shaded by banyan trees and overlooking Tolo Harbor, Hong Kong student activists hand out pamphlets outside the light rail station.

“We want a real democratic society, where Hong Kong people have the right to vote for their government,” says Miss Chow. “We are seeing a lot of decaying in the system.” Posters and graffiti supporting the movement cover campus buildings, walls, and walkways.

Although some mainland students quietly support the pro-democracy protests, others vocally oppose them. “Some shout slogans, like ‘Hong Kong is part of China’ at our assemblies,” she says. “Others are a bit confused about freedom of speech in Hong Kong” because it is so novel.

SUSANA VERA/REUTERS

Protesters hide their faces after trying to speak to the vice chancellor of The Chinese University of Hong Kong.

Indeed, asked about the protests, some newly arrived mainland students seem surprised by the level of openness on Hong Kong campuses. “This is a free university, with free speech,” says a first-year engineering student from Shandong province. Still, her reaction was mixed. “Sometimes what they say makes sense, but sometimes they overdo it,” she says. While Hong Kong students have welcomed her, she notes, “it makes me sad to see so many posters. I love my country.”

Miss Chow hopes more mainland students will back the movement, as they sift the truth from propaganda about Hong Kong. “In Hong Kong, they can have more exposure to freedom of speech and different media and information,” she says. “Some of them may change their minds.”

Many Hong Kong people believe the past five months of unprecedented protests mark a turning point in attitudes that has changed the territory forever. Opinion polls also suggest a tectonic shift in outlook. Only slightly more than 10% of Hong Kong people identify themselves as “Chinese” – a post-1997 record low, according to a June public opinion poll by The University of Hong Kong. A majority identify as “Hong Konger,” the poll shows. And Hong Kong people are gaining pride in themselves, a July survey shows. One possible outcome, say experts, is that pro-democracy and localist candidates will receive a significant boost in district elections scheduled for Nov. 24 and legislative elections to be held next year.

Prior to the latest huge wave of protests, Professor Wong’s research anticipated a gradual shift toward pro-Beijing conservatism in Hong Kong elections, as more mainland immigrants gained permanent residency and the right to vote.

But Hong Kong is now in fluid, uncharted territory. Some mainland immigrants have joined the protests and support the calls for greater police and government accountability. Several interviewed say they either back the protests or are neutral.

“There is a huge consensus that the government needs to do something to respond to the people’s demands,” says Professor Wong, who studies Hong Kong elections. “Many are unhappy with the performance of the administration. That may change their political orientation.”

Professor Yip agrees. “We have to move with the times,” he says. “You can’t put Hong Kong back in a cage.”

Evo Morales, the recently ousted president of Bolivia, can claim considerable accomplishments for his almost 14 years in power.

Over those years the Bolivian economy grew, inequality fell, a new middle class emerged, and the Andean country’s indigenous population enjoyed new levels of education and prosperity as the government extended basic social services.

Many in the indigenous population, which makes up about two-thirds of the country, credit Mr. Morales – Bolivia’s first indigenous president – with delivering them a new level of respect.

But Mr. Morales also seems to have succumbed to the same temptation that other regional leaders have fallen prey to in recent decades, even as democracy has solidified in Latin America. He refused to abide by the term limits placed in the constitution during his first term – a rejection of the rules that lies at the heart of the turmoil engulfing the country since he claimed victory for an unprecedented fourth term in an election late last month.

Mr. Morales, who has accepted asylum in Mexico, resigned Sunday following weeks of social unrest and what he asserted was a coup against his presidency.

Seeking another term was constitutionally prohibited until 2017, when the country’s highest court (packed with Mr. Morales’ supporters) ruled that term limits violated candidates’ human rights; the year before, 51% of Bolivian voters rejected Mr. Morales’ proposal to let him run again.

After an inquiry into last month's election, the Organization of American States and experts from the international community determined there had been irregularities, and said it could not certify the results. The president agreed to a new vote – but with unrest building in the streets, the military and police that originally stood by Mr. Morales switched sides, and the Morales presidency was over.

In the following days, Mr. Morales’ loyalists and detractors have settled in to fight about his removal’s legitimacy. But as Bolivia tries to look ahead, past this week’s confusion and instability, the question for many observers is whether the country can rebuild a firmer footing in democracy – without sacrificing the gains under his administration. 

“The mistake Morales made – and that still too many leaders make – is that he overstayed his welcome,” says Richard Feinberg, an expert on democratization in the Americas at the University of California at San Diego’s School of Global Policy and Strategy. “He decided he liked being in power, and so he disregarded the democratic norms, some of which he implemented, that were designed to limit one leader’s hold on power and to prevent this kind of crisis.”

Vying for influence

Bolivia’s problem now is that Mr. Morales’ departure has left a power vacuum with various factions – including some extremes until now kept in check – jostling for control.

A senator and leader of the conservative opposition, Jeanine Áñez Chávez, announced on Tuesday that she would become interim president, with the primary goal of organizing new elections in three months. But her legitimacy was instantly questioned, the military remained on the streets in some cities, and dialogue among opposing political leaders and parties appeared to be nonexistent.

Carlos Garcia Rawlins/Reuters

Bolivian Interim President Jeanine Anez reads a statement at the Presidential Palace, in La Paz, Bolivia Nov. 13, 2019, three days after former President Evo Morales resigned.

“It’s a mess,” says Kathryn Ledebur, director of the Andean Information Network in Cochabamba, Bolivia. “Right now none of what is going on is democratic,” she says, referring “first and foremost” to Senator Áñez’s declaration.

“Some very frightening extremist forces are taking advantage of the situation to sow a lot of fear,” she adds. “Once again people are too frightened to go out in indigenous dress.”

Most worrisome for Ms. Ledebur is that “we’re seeing no sign of a willingness to dialogue and to bring Bolivia back to the path of democracy.”

For Professor Feinberg, Mr. Morales became an example of what he terms “minority authoritarianism,” in which a once widely popular leader clings to power through increasingly undemocratic means despite eroding political support.

Another example of this in Latin America is Venezuela, where President Nicolás Maduro has held on to power despite shrinking popular support amid the country’s economic and social collapse.

Indeed, if the protest placards declaring “Bolivia no es Venezuela” at post-election demonstrations in various Bolivian cities are any indication, a widespread fear of seeing their country follow Venezuela in its downward spiral was one motivating factor for Bolivians who marched in the streets for weeks.

“In some quarters there was that fear that Morales, if he hung on after a fraudulent election, could take Bolivia down the radical road that Venezuela has taken,” says Michael Shifter, president of the Inter-American Dialogue in Washington. “The big difference is that Morales steered Bolivia through years of impressive growth and rising living conditions and social equity, and retained significant popularity by the time he would try to steal an election.”

Mistrust toward military

Mr. Morales maintains he was ousted in a coup, after Bolivia’s armed forces and police switched sides over the weekend and declared their allegiance to the people protesting Mr. Morales’ reelection and to the country’s institutions – including, they said, to the constitution.

Eduardo Verdugo/AP

Former Bolivian President Evo Morales, center, walks with Mexico City Mayor Claudia Sheinbaum, center right, in Mexico City Nov. 13, 2019. Mexico has granted asylum to Mr. Morales, who resigned under mounting pressure after his re-election victory triggered weeks of fraud allegations and deadly protests.

And the deposed leader quickly found support coming from well beyond Bolivia. A number of leaders from Latin America’s political left – including Venezuela’s Mr. Maduro – echoed the position that Mr. Morales was the victim of a coup, as did others as far afield as British Labour Party leader Jeremy Corbyn and U.S. senator and presidential candidate Bernie Sanders.

“I am very concerned about what appears to be a coup in Bolivia, where the military, after weeks of political unrest, intervened to remove President Evo Morales,” Senator Sanders tweeted Monday.

But Mr. Sanders also said the U.S. “must call for an end to violence and support Bolivia’s democratic institutions” – which is what Bolivia’s military and police say they are doing.

Yet Latin America’s long history of military coups almost unavoidably encourages doubts.

“The military always claims to be intervening in the name of democracy, that’s part of the legacy” of the region, says Kenneth Roberts, professor of comparative and Latin American politics at Cornell University in Ithaca, New York.

But he says the Bolivian case is “murky” and not the cut-and-dried “coup” of the past. “This is not Chile 1973 with the military bombing the presidential palace,” he says. “But yes, it is a coup in the sense that one sector of the state has taken it upon itself to remove the president outside of the constitutional norms of impeachment.”

Not all agree. “The guy [Morales] tried to rig an election, and the country found that unacceptable,” says UC San Diego’s Mr. Feinberg. “That’s not a coup, that’s keeping democracy on track.”

But the reality is that the country remains deeply divided, over both Mr. Morales’ fate and the way forward. And what worries many now is that Bolivia will get stuck in a period of political conflict and will risk losing the considerable gains the country has achieved over the past decade.

“My biggest fear is that Bolivia slips into a scenario of mobilization and counter-mobilization that could be very difficult to get out of,” says Cornell’s Professor Roberts. “There are some very conservative groups that want to turn the clock back” on the social advances made under Mr. Morales, “and you can imagine the intense counter-mobilization that would form to stop that.” 

Much will depend on the inclinations of Bolivia’s new middle class, says Ms. Ledebur in Cochabamba. “Right now the new middle class is split. There was genuine concern in the middle class about the fourth term” Mr. Morales tried to go for, she says, “but it’s a middle class with indigenous roots that is feeling a lot of confusion over the best way forward.” 

The major threat Mr. Shifter sees for Bolivia is that its society is now “extremely polarized,” with little give and take or recognition of the opposing side’s frustrations and demands.

“The danger now,” he says, “is that there is so much polarization that it puts at risk the advances that Bolivia has accomplished and that are very real.”

Patrick Semansky/AP

Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan speaks at a news conference alongside President Donald Trump in the East Room of the White House on Nov. 13, 2019, in Washington.

At almost any other time, a warm White House welcome by an American president to an authoritarian world leader would dominate the news. But falling as it did on the opening day of historic impeachment hearings into President Donald Trump, the visit by Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan seemed almost an afterthought.

The timing, in fact, may have served President Trump well. He was able to carry out Wednesday’s controversial visit with less public attention than it might otherwise have received. Several hundred chanting protesters crammed Lafayette Park outside the White House, but heightened security prevented a repeat of the violence that accompanied President Erdoğan’s visit in 2017. 

Perhaps most important, Mr. Trump used the Oval Office meeting to convey the concerns of some of his closest allies on Capitol Hill, including Sens. Lindsey Graham of South Carolina and Ted Cruz of Texas, inviting them to attend the meeting and speak directly with Mr. Erdoğan. 

Top concerns include Turkey’s recent invasion of Syria targeting U.S.-allied Syrian Kurds and its purchase of Russian weapons systems, despite Turkey’s membership in NATO. Republican Sen. Jim Risch of Idaho, chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, who also attended the Oval Office meeting, has been drafting bipartisan legislation that would sanction Turkey for its Russian weapons purchase. 

By bringing key senators “inside the tent” at the meeting with Mr. Erdoğan – an unusual move – Mr. Trump was both managing internal GOP dissent and delivering a message to a miscreant ally. 

“It was a smart strategic step by Trump,” says Soner Cagaptay, director of the Turkish Research Program at the Washington Institute for Near East Policy. “He knows there’s massive anger against Turkey on the Hill, and the only way he can control it is by letting some steam to vent.”

For Mr. Erdoğan, the main goal in coming to Washington was to return a sense of normalcy to U.S.-Turkish relations, which would benefit the stalled Turkish economy. 

“There is pretty severe anti-Turkish sentiment in the U.S. capital, at a level I have not witnessed in nearly two decades of observing the relationship,” says Mr. Cagaptay, author of the book “Erdoğan’s Empire.”

The day of meetings, capped by a press conference, ended without any major announcements. Still on the table are a possible $100 billion trade deal and a proposal for Turkey to keep its Russian S-400 missile defense system in storage, as a way to avoid U.S. sanctions. 

The photo op of the two leaders in the Oval Office and then holding court with the press in the East Room of the White House may have been the biggest reward for Mr. Erdoğan. The cherry on top was Mr. Trump saying “I’m a big fan” of the Turkish president. Mr. Erdoğan repeatedly called Mr. Trump “my dear friend.” 

“He does not want to be seen as an international pariah, and particularly he does not want to be seen as on the U.S.’s list of bad leaders,” says Jordan Tama, an assistant professor of international relations at American University. 

Still, there was a moment of discord when Mr. Erdoğan said he had returned the recent letter Mr. Trump had sent imploring him not to be a “tough guy” or a “fool” as he launched the invasion into Syria.

For Mr. Trump, the benefit may have been the ceremony of receiving a major world leader, albeit a controversial one – a reminder to the public that he’s still president, with all the power that entails, even as Democrats a few miles away were launching the public phase of their impeachment effort. 

“He likes to be seen speaking with world leaders,” says Lisel Hintz, an assistant professor of international relations at Johns Hopkins School of Advanced International Studies. “He likes the drama, he likes getting his way.” 

Mr. Trump’s affinity for strongmen is well documented, from Vladimir Putin of Russia to Jair Bolsonaro of Brazil and Kim Jong Un of North Korea. But within that club, the president’s relationship with Turkey and Mr. Erdoğan may be the most complicated. 

As a member of NATO, Turkey is an ally. And yet it is cozying up to Russia in ways that antagonize the West and the U.S. Congress. But if the U.S. were to distance itself from Turkey, that would only push the country further into Russia’s arms, analysts say. 

“Turkey under Erdoğan sees itself playing a much more independent role for itself in the Middle East,” says Ms. Hintz, a specialist on Turkey. “It’s important not to be seen being told what to do by the US.”

A sign of the increasingly complex U.S.-Turkish relationship is the U.S. House resolution that passed Oct. 29 recognizing the 1915 Armenian genocide at the hands of Ottoman Turks. In the past, such resolutions have failed, as House members didn’t want to antagonize Turkey. After recent Turkish military moves against the Kurds, the floodgates opened. The measure passed 405-11. 

In the U.S. domestic political context, relations with Turkey and other authoritarian-ruled countries may seem inconsequential. But Mr. Trump’s affinity for strongmen could matter on the margins in next year’s election, says Mr. Tama of American University. 

“We know that Americans care about democracy and human rights as a part of foreign policy,” says Mr. Tama. 

“So to the extent that Trump is being criticized for sidling up to authoritarian leaders or accommodating authoritarian leaders at the expense of groups or individuals who are trying to defend their rights, then this is not a popular position for Trump to be taking.” 

Remy Schneider

Jono Neiger’s Big River Chestnuts farm (in the foreground) stands out amid his neighbors’ fields of row crops along the Connecticut River in Sunderland, Massachusetts. Mr. Neiger practices “silvopasture,” an old way of farming that integrates livestock farming with tree cultivation.

Looking south from the top of Mount Sugarloaf, in Massachusetts’ fertile Pioneer Valley, it is easy to spot Jono Neiger’s farm. Amid fields of identical corn stalks in their neatly parallel rows, and the occasional, neatly-cleared pasture, his plot looks a bit scraggly.

Get closer and it’s easy to understand why. Rows of overgrown bushes and goldenrod push up to the thin wisps of young chestnut trees, most of which are encircled by wiring or plastic tubes. During the summer, chickens scratch their way down the wide, bumpy rows. Unlike most fields, the ground is not flat. A shaggy mix of grasses, clover, and other ground cover grows between these imprecise alleys of trees and weeds. The chickens themselves are kept in line by portable fencing and rickshaw-like platform coops.

In other words, it does not look like traditional American agriculture. And that is exactly the point, says Mr. Neiger.

“This is about not doing monoculture,” says Martin Anderton, the farmer who subleases to raise chickens on Mr. Neiger’s Big River Chestnuts farm. “We’re letting nature work.”

Mr. Neiger and Mr. Anderton are practitioners of “silvopasture,” a system of managed grazing, livestock farming, and tree cultivation. It is an old way of doing agriculture, but one that became rare in modern American farming. Now, though, a broad and growing group of agriculture officials, farmers, and climate activists are promoting silvopasture. Not only does it increase soil health and productivity, they say, but it also pulls carbon out of the atmosphere – lots of it.

Rediscovering the potential of the land

Project Drawdown, a nonprofit research group focused on climate, ranked silvopasture as the ninth most impactful climate change solution in the world, above rooftop solar power, electric vehicles, and geothermal electricity. The group estimates that if farmers increased silvopasture acreage from approximately 351 million acres today to 554 million by 2050, carbon dioxide emissions could be reduced by 31.2 gigatons. 

Part of this is because of what silvopasture is not. Traditional livestock farming is carbon intensive, thanks to factors that range from landscape changes such as cutting trees for pastures, to the production of nitrogen fertilizers needed for huge amounts of feed. Silvopasture, however, involves planting trees, or at least not cutting them down.  

In a silvopasture system, livestock is rotated through different enclosures, not staying in any one place for all that long. This means that the soil maintains – or even improves – its ability to sequester carbon. 

Matt Smith, the research program lead with the U.S. Department of Agriculture’s National Agroforestry Center, says silvopasture can also help farmers mitigate the existing impacts of climate changes, from reducing heat stress on animals to lowering the risk of wildfires. 

“With longer heat waves, people are trying to find relief for their animals,” Mr. Smith says.  

In a silvopasture system, animals can find shade during hot stretches. Farmers also have the ability to make cooler microclimates, or, during colder stretches, give animals a place to shelter.

“These are practices that have been done forever and ever,” says Mr. Neiger, who is also a principal of the Regenerative Design Group, a landscape architecture and design consulting firm in Greenfield, Massachusetts, that works on ecologically-focused projects. “We’re in this process of rediscovery and also figuring out what’s possible.”

Jono Neiger

Wiring protects a young chestnut tree from browsing deer on Jono Neiger’s Big River Chestnuts farm. Mr. Neiger has planted a blight-resistant variety of chestnut tree. The chestnut tree was mostly wiped out in the United States but he and others believe chestnuts could become a new staple crop in the Northeast.

Mr. Neiger started his seven-acre farm in the spring of 2018, in part to be a model for other farmers in the area who were interested in silvopasture. He has planted a blight-resistant variety of chestnut tree. The chestnut tree was mostly wiped out in the United States but he and others believe chestnuts could become a new staple crop in the Northeast. He invited Mr. Anderton to handle the livestock portion of the farm.

Mr. Anderton, who grew up on Maryland’s eastern shore, an epicenter for big commercial chicken operations, had managed chickens on other farms. The chance to try out silvopasture was particularly appealing – a way, he said, to grow food and take care of the Earth at the same time.

“To me it just makes sense,” he says.   

The rise of “carbon farming” 

National statistics on silvopasture are difficult to come by. The USDA’s census of agriculture does not measure it, and it takes varying forms in different regions. Those who research and promote silvopasture say the label can often be used erroneously – simply letting animals into a woodlot, for instance, does not mean the same as an intentional, portable pasture system that works to maximize the health of both trees and animals. 

Still, Kate MacFarland, assistant agroforester with the National Agroforestry Center, says it’s clear that the practice is on the rise.

“We’re seeing an increased interest in silvopasture all over the country,” she says. 

In addition to USDA outreach to help farmers set up silvopasture practices, a number of universities have begun to offer grants for farmers and ranchers beginning to use it. Some local and state governments have set up incentives for farmers adopting climate-friendly practices. At his Caney Fork Farms in Tennessee, former Vice President Al Gore is modeling silvopasture as a regenerative “carbon farming” process. And at the University of Massachusetts’ Stockbridge School of Agriculture, lecturer Lisa DePiano says she has more people asking her about her model silvopasture farm and the practice overall.

Still, she says, there is a reluctance among some farmers to shift their practices.   

“Asking farmers to change how they’re working – that’s a big risk for them,” she says.

Tree crops are a long-term investment, she points out. Even fast-growing chestnuts will take years to produce. Managing livestock among trees is more intensive than letting cows graze in one pasture for weeks or months at a time.

For years, points out Brett Chedzoy, a New York farmer and cooperative extension specialist with Cornell University, agricultural specialists were telling people to keep their animals out of the forest. He switched his farm to a silvopasture system after spending years in Argentina, where the practice is more common, and where he saw its environmental and productive benefits. Now Mr. Chedzoy helps others implement the practice, and also advises 400-some members on an online silvopasture forum. Next year he is planning a tour of successful silvopasture farms in his region.

“Silvopasture is something that we are going to continue to see grow,” he says. “We’re finally getting past the cheerleading phase.”

This story was produced with support from an Energy Foundation grant to cover the environment.

AP

Students evacuate Saugus High School in Santa Clarita, Calif., after a gunman opened fire at the school Nov. 14.

Is all gun control local? With Congress deadlocked on passing new gun-safety measures, it may be coming to that. In the wake of recent mass shootings – including the latest at a Southern California high school – many cities and states have taken actions of their own. Now the FBI and U.S. Justice Department are focusing on better ways to support communities and individuals to curb gun violence.

On Wednesday, U.S. Attorney General William Barr launched a federal program called Project Guardian. Its primary aim is to assist community organizations and local law enforcement “in ways that fit the local circumstances.” It would, for example, make sure there is an adequate mental health response for troubled individuals. It would also swiftly update federal databases to show when someone should not be allowed to own a gun. In addition, it would back up state prosecutions in gun cases by adding federal charges.

The FBI, meanwhile, issued a report today that analyzed the profiles of dozens of lone gun attackers and concluded that “all citizens have a critical role in prevention.”

The report said mass gun violence can be prevented through early recognition and reporting of “concerning behavior.” The main reason: “Most offenders were not truly isolated and had family, peers, or online contacts who were in a position to notice troubling behavior.”

“Prevention is more than just a law enforcement effort,” stated Christopher Wray, director of the FBI.

The report found that in 69% of the cases studied, one or more individuals – dubbed “bystanders” by the FBI – took some action to address one or multiple concerning behaviors that had been observed in a gun offender.

“Often, this took the form of expressing concern directly to the offender and/or expressing concern to friends and family members,” the report found.

In a third of cases, such individuals expressed concern to one or more community authority figures, such as a religious leader or a medical professional, at some point during the offender’s life.

Most shooters are white males adrift in society and holding strong grievances, the FBI concludes. Better efforts to recognize, report, and help potential attackers would be “incredibly valuable” in preventing attacks.

To help root such individuals in neighborhoods and homes, says Vikram Patel of Harvard University’s School of Public Health, they need counseling on the quality of social relations. “Many people will mock the idea of love being a potent medicine,” he writes, but love is the “most powerful intervention.”

And there is nothing more local than a loving relationship.