Timothy McLaughlin
On Thitu, a tiny dot of coral reef and palm trees in the South China Sea about 300 miles off the coast of the Philippines, the inaugural Mrs. Kalayaan Pageant was the event of the night, the week, and quite possibly the month. When I was there in May, the entire island’s population, some 250 people, seemed to have gathered around a nautical-themed stage to see who would win the sash and crown. You might think that a local beauty contest would not involve geopolitics. You would be wrong.
“Given the current situation, if your child wanted to join the navy or coast guard, would you let them?” one of the judges asked a contestant who was dressed in a floor-length red gown and a tiara. “They give a lot to this community,” she responded, “so if that is what they want, they should do it.” The crowd applauded and cheered with approval.
The oblique reference to the “current situation” was lost on no one. As the pageant proceeded, more than a dozen Chinese-militia vessels loitered offshore; closest at hand, a sleek Chinese-coast-guard ship patrolled back and forth.
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