Kim Sun-il, a South Korean man kidnapped last week and held by Islamic militants, has been beheaded, as the militants had said they would do. The South Korean foreign ministry confirmed his death, and the Associated Press was reporting it this afternoon. He is the latest to be killed in this way. There was Nicholas Berg. And then, there was Paul Johnson.

Paul Johnson was beheaded in Saudi Arabia Sunday. Before Johnson died, an anonymous letter posted online offered the most religiously empathetic attempt so far to save his life. The letter showed up on websites trafficked by al-Qaeda supporters. The writer of the letter, who signed off as “Saad the Believer,” said he was a Muslim friend of Johnson’s. If Johnson was harmed, he wrote, “I will curse you in all my prayers.”

So far, this letter shows the only public and even remotely effective approach to saving the American hostage’s life. In all the dogmatic public statements about the U.S. policy against negotiating with terrorists, you have to wonder where Americans living abroad can find hope, if they should have the misfortune of being kidnapped and threatened with death. This letter might be it. This letter showed an alternative to the ethnocentric arrogance to which all cultures can fall victim. The letter spoke in the religious language of the militants, appealing to the beliefs that they publicly claim to hold, even if their actions defy so much of what other Muslims believe.

Paul Johnson still died, but the letter written on his behalf offers a glimmer of the cultural understanding that is so clearly now a matter of life and death. The letter was someone’s last-ditch attempt to derail a hopeless course. Its significance is its display of respect, the kind of respect you show by acknowledging that even as your beliefs are diametrically opposed, you accept that others see the world differently. This is the kind of respect that has a chance of saving a man’s life.

Vinnee Tong

After Ronald Reagan died over the weekend, children who were too young to remember his presidency were seen placing flowers at makeshift memorials for him. Perhaps it is callous to wonder how people can become so saddened over a man they never knew personally. Certainly, the images we’re seeing (Nancy with her head on the flag-draped coffin, Reagan as a young actor in a bathing suit looking toned and tan) have their own emotional effect. But I’m a bit more interested in the words and the ideas.

Put aside for a moment the discomfort of speaking ill of the dead, and read two of the most anti-Reagan postings. These two pieces, from two authors and investigative journalists, Greg Palast and Christopher Hitchens, break from the tone of admiration many have felt they needed to use in writing about our former president. (Reagan-lovers, beware, these are not your usual eulogies.)

Policy wonks have turned to one of the most puzzling aspects of Reagan’s presidency: what has come to be called Reaganomics. Whether this ill-defined term actually translated into sound economic policy is being put aside to instead praise Reagan’s ability to inspire confidence. The importance of the policy’s end result should not be underestimated, for it is credited with introducing to the world the idea of a freer market. But, even now, the actual merits of the policy remain murky. Here’s the routine: Put aside the details. Let us consider the legacy.

The Economist writes that, again and again, Reagan wrote in his diaries, “I have a gut feeling.” The quote speaks to his appeal, to his ability to transmit a feeling of assurance without explaining the intricacies. Perhaps this is why so many praise him as a leader. Perhaps this is why people who only saw him on television will make a pilgrimage this week to his closed-casket services at both ends of the country. Skip the details, add some lovely photos, and you’re surprisingly close to the formula for a leader who will inspire confidence and admiration.

Vinnee Tong

Asians, as a minority group in America, sit pretty squarely in a sort of purgatory when it comes to the antagonistic politics of the comfortable vs. the afflicted. This comes with its advantages; a definitive identity is not one of them. Burdened as they are, with an unspecific name and accompanying mish-mash identity, Asian Americans have interestingly emerged in several recent stories — from The Wall Street Journal and Newsweek — in a somewhat victorious light.

A brief, chronological compendium follows.

February 25, 2004: The Wall Street Journal runs “Affluence rises for Asian Americans.” The main point here is that Asians are the fastest growing group of affluent investors in this country. They accounted for less than one percent of affluent households in 2002. That number grew to five percent today.

March 22, 2004: Newsweek publishes “American Masala.” This story profiles accomplished South Asians, including, among others, a movie director, novelist, and doctor. More importantly, the story lays out the rising cultural influence of immigrants and their descendants.

April 19, 2004: This time, Newsweek runs a story about Asians abroad in “Asians get going.” Here, a writer for the magazine says that Asians in Asia have more money and have started to travel abroad, boosting tourism and offering huge potential for future growth. This, the story says, is the beginning of a larger wave of travelers from China and India.

April 28, 2004: Another reporter at the WSJ writes about the proliferation of mini-Chinatowns in surburban America. The opening anecdote charmingly tells of one entrepreneur who got started building these mini-Chinatowns after he frustratingly could not find a decent Chinese-vegetarian meal for his mother while they were visiting Las Vegas. The consumption of real estate and the demand for ethnic food are the clearest signs of a culture’s growth, if you ask me.

This latest coverage makes you wonder: Will the image of Asians as financially successful and culturally influential further deconstruct the outmoded stereotypes of Asians as clever and closed-off? Eric Liu wrote in his book of essays, The Accidental Asian, that the collective identity of Asian Americans, “fragile invention that it is, will simply dissipate through intermarriage, as so many Jews fear is happening to their community.” He continued, “On the other hand, it’s possible the Asian identity will intensify in the next generation … The old borders are shifting.” They certainly still shift, but today, some six years after Liu published that, we still have little idea which way they move.

Vinnee Tong

Last week, I went to the New York premiere of an independent documentary that had taken three years of effort by three pro-Palestinian activists. Putting aside my admiration for the dedication of the filmmakers, I left the event with a feeling I sometimes have when in the presence of politicians. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes and feel the need to get out of there.

The film, titled “Until when …,” drew dozens of supporters, many of whom had to stand in the back of the room to watch the 76-minute documentary. The film featured interviews with the various members of four Palestinian families living in a refugee camp in the occupied West Bank. The filmmakers, director Dahna Abourahme and producers Annemarie Jacir and Suzy Salamy, originally conceived the film to examine the “right to return” concept. But the film also spent much time exploring the everyday lives of the families through interviews about their daily struggles. At times, the film was touching, at other times predictable.

Now I’ll get to what induced the eye rolling. During the discussion after the showing, a man asked why the film’s English subtitles said “Israeli” instead of “Jew” when the film’s subjects said, “Yahoud” (In Arabic, Yahoud means Jew. But the decision to use Israeli seemed to come from catering to an American audience, who might see the usage of the term Jew as anti-Semitic).

The man who asked the question said that “we” aren’t the ones who should be defensive. Presumably, “they” — as in the Israelis — should be forced to defend themselves. It seemed to me what this man really wanted to know was this: Just how activist are these filmmakers? Just how truly Palestinian are they? He wanted to question their political credibility. He seemed to want to know: Are these filmmakers radical enough to have membership in the Palestinian cause?

The three filmmakers had, presumably, not adhered to the rules of activism. The rules, of course, state that all forces should be marshaled for the purpose of defeating the opponent. Show no weakness; leave no gaps. His type of thinking, like that of propagandists, is a plague on diplomacy. But it raises an interesting question: Should a film like this have as its priority being political or just being art?

Vinnee Tong