France's 'David and Goliath' Fight Against Wildfires

Summary

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From Our Own Correspondent

Episode: France's 'David and Goliath' Fight Against Wildfires

Host: BBC Radio 4
Date: August 1, 2026

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Episode Overview

This episode traverses global flashpoints through gripping on-the-ground reporting—beginning in wildfire-ravaged southwest France and moving through Ecuador’s drug war, a Palestinian village under attack, Myanmar’s war refugees in Thailand, and ending with Buddhist monks playing matchmaker in South Korea.

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1. France's "David and Goliath" Fight Against Wildfires

[00:00–06:05]
Reporter: Quinn Loder

Theme:
An inside look at how French firefighters, volunteers, and residents battle relentless wildfires in the Gironde region, likened to a David vs. Goliath struggle amid climate-fueled heatwaves.

Key Discussion Points:

• Apocalyptic Atmosphere in Gironde:
  Quinn Loder describes arriving in the eerily empty town of Cap Ferret, usually bustling with tourists but now deserted ([01:14]). Ominous skies, choking smoke, and falling ash conjure a sense of crisis.

• Stories of Resistance and Regret:
  Loder meets Christian, a resident who refused to evacuate and regretted it as the dangers became apparent:

  “My carbon monoxide monitor is giving dangerously high readings, but I have no car. I’m stuck here.” (Christian, [02:00])

• The Firefighters’ Ordeal:
  At a local rugby ground commandeered as a fire service HQ, Commander Mathieu Jaumat shares the exhaustion and determination among his crew:

  "Yes, we are exhausted... It's impossible for us to quit the battlefield, so we are tired, but we will sleep afterwards." *(Commander Jaumat, [03:40])

• Desperate Volunteer Response:
  Local men, some shirtless and blackened by soot, labor alongside fire crews, frantically dousing fires with buckets and hoses.

  “We are very grateful to them.” (Kevin Cachan, volunteer, [04:20])

• Battling Nature’s Fury:
  Amid record 40°C temperatures, the challenge is overwhelming:

  "Fighting these fires was like David fighting Goliath." (Fire service spokesperson, [02:52])

• On the Edge of Catastrophe:
  Some residents, like Mererid George, evacuate with children fearing for Bordeaux's safety:

  "When you see the smoke and you're breathing in this awful air, it becomes very real... It's unpredictable, it's jumping around, it's going in all directions." (Mererid George, [05:10])

• A Pyrrhic Victory and Bigger Questions:
  By nightfall, fires are held at bay but not vanquished.

  "I am hopeful... but the war is not over." (Commander Jaumat, [05:30])

  Loder closes by reflecting on broader issues—Europe’s record pace of warming and the urgent need for prevention.

Notable Quotes & Timestamps:

• Christian’s regret:
  "But I have no car. I'm stuck here." ([02:00])

• Commander Jaumat on resolve:
  "It's impossible for us to quit the battlefield, so we are tired, but we will sleep afterwards." ([03:40])

• Volunteer gratitude:
  "We are very grateful to them." - Kevin Cachan ([04:20])

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2. Ecuador’s Relentless Drug War

[06:05–11:17]
Reporter: Ola Guerin

Theme:
Inside Ecuador’s fight against the drug cartels—where police, gangs, and everyday people are locked in a dangerous, corrupt standoff.

Key Discussion Points:

• City Under Siege:
  Guayaquil’s transformation from tourist haven to "one of the most dangerous places on earth." Armed guards stand vigil even outside hotels ([06:44]).

• Gangs vs. Police: Two Sides of the Conflict:
  Guerin interviews Jonathan, a gang leader:

  “Call me Jonathan... until now, about eight, I think. I don't remember well [how many killed].” ([08:05])

  Also, Police Captain John Carlos Bustamante, who’s lost friends to the fight; both sides admit Ecuador is riddled with corruption:

  "Jonathan says he has four policemen on his payroll who give him advance warning..." ([09:25]) "He [Bustamante] says he can only trust those right beside him, members of his own hand picked team." ([09:35])

• Permeating Fear and Fatalism:
  Ordinary residents live in daily terror.

  “We're used to this now because it happens every day. You might just step outside and catch a stray bullet.” ([10:48])

Notable Quotes & Timestamps:

• Jonathan's chilling tally:
  "Until now, about eight, I think. I don't remember well." ([08:05])

• Police captain’s resolve:
  "Maybe I am a little tired... but it's my work. I believe we can win. We have to do it." ([11:02])

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3. Under Attack in the Occupied West Bank

[11:17–17:28]
Reporter: Lucy Williamson

Theme:
The struggle of Palestinian residents facing violence from Israeli settlers and the changing landscape of the West Bank.

Key Discussion Points:

• Living on a Front Line:
  Reporter meets Shahid, a pregnant Palestinian woman worried she can't reach hospital during a settler attack, reflecting mounting dangers ([12:10]).

• Checkpoints and Segregated Roads:
  The landscape is increasingly fragmented with barriers, road closures, and restricted access for Palestinians.

• Wave of Retaliatory Violence:
  After a deadly confrontation, settler violence intensifies, leaving homes torched and injuries mounting.

• Settler Justifications:
  Israeli settler Yehuda Shimon expresses extreme views:

  "One Jewish life was worth 10 million Palestinians... Because God chose us. The Bible says this land is ours." ([16:35])

Notable Quotes & Timestamps:

• Shahid’s daily reality:
  "She was scared the baby, her first, would come during one of these weekly confrontations and she wouldn't be able to reach the hospital." ([12:22])

• Settler's extremist creed:
  "One Jewish life was worth 10 million Palestinians... Because God chose us. The Bible says this land is ours." - Yehuda Shimon ([16:35])

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4. Myanmar’s Revolutionaries and War Refugees in Thailand

[17:28–22:56]
Reporter: Jonathan Head

Theme:
Mae Sot, Thailand, is now home to exhausted, traumatized Burmese refugees, fighters, and opposition leaders—caught between hope for democracy and war-weariness.

Key Discussion Points:

• Mae Sot as Safe Haven and Crossroads:
  Refugees comprise opposition leaders, families, and those fleeing conscription or trauma ([18:03]).

• Personal Sacrifice and Resignation:

  • Lewis, ex-businessman, joined and left the resistance to care for his kids:

    "At the beginning our morale was so high... But it's dragged on for too long and my kids need me now." ([19:41])

  • Kin Ay turns to rescuing child soldiers, offering them skills and a future away from war.

• Movement’s Fractures and Growing Fatigue:
  Opposition is fragmented, and morale is waning as the Burmese military retakes ground with Russian and Chinese support.

Notable Quotes & Timestamps:

• Lewis’ change of heart:
  "At the beginning our morale was so high, we were willing to sacrifice our lives. But it's dragged on for too long and my kids need me now." ([19:41])

• Kin Ay’s vision:
  "We're not born to be soldiers... Our revolution will be a long struggle, and we need to change our strategy." ([21:02])

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5. Buddhist Monks as Matchmakers in South Korea

[22:56–27:50]
Reporter: Jae Kwon

Theme:
In response to a population crisis, South Korea’s Buddhist monks organize matchmaking retreats at temples—with talent shows, group walks, and speeches about national duty.

Key Discussion Points:

• Temple Retreats to Boost Birth Rate:
  At Dongwasa Temple, singles meet, socialize, and face patriotic sermons encouraging marriage and procreation.

• Awkwardness and Sincerity:
  Participants selected for their sincere desire for marriage—and children—experience icebreakers, talent shows, and high-pressure speed dating rounds.

• Memorable Moments:

  • Baking, dancing, and serenades spice up proceedings.
  • At the end, eight couples are formed—two between staff and participants.

  "The problem with the young generation... is that they're socially awkward." ([24:22]) "Dating proved as difficult inside the temple as it is outside, but everyone left with something they have been missing—new friends and fresh confidence." ([27:27])

Notable Quotes & Timestamps:

• Monk’s patriotic plea:
  "He gave a rousing, patriotic speech on their duties as Koreans to procreate." ([26:30])

• Retreat outcome:
  "Dating proved as difficult inside the temple as it is outside, but everyone left with something they have been missing—new friends and fresh confidence." ([27:27])

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Memorable Quotes - At a Glance

• "Fighting these fires was like David fighting Goliath." — Fire service spokesperson, France ([02:52])
• "Maybe I am a little tired, but it's my work. I believe we can win. We have to do it." — Captain Bustamante, Ecuador ([11:02])
• "One Jewish life was worth 10 million Palestinians... Because God chose us. The Bible says this land is ours." — Yehuda Shimon, Israeli settler ([16:35])
• "We're not born to be soldiers... Our revolution will be a long struggle." — Kin Ay, Burmese refugee ([21:02])
• "Dating proved as difficult inside the temple as it is outside, but everyone left with something they have been missing—new friends and fresh confidence." — Jae Kwon, South Korea ([27:27])

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Conclusion

From fire-blackened French forests and scarred Ecuadorian streets to the barricaded hills of the West Bank, Burmese safe houses in Thailand, and the hopeful bustle of a South Korean monastery, this episode reveals the human stakes and struggles behind global headlines. Each correspondent brings wit, empathy, and vivid reporting that transform crises into compelling, personal stories.

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Transcript

[A]

Hello. Today we're on the front line of Ecuador's drug war, out on patrol with police fighting gangs and enemies within their own ranks. In the occupied west bank, we visit a Palestinian village frequently under attack by Israeli settlers. We visit a border city in Thailand that's become a refuge for Myanmar's rebel fighters, weary from half a decade of civil war. And in South Korea, singles are hoping a matchmaking service run by Buddhist monks can help them find the one. But first, firefighters across Europe have been battling wildfires this week, driven by soaring temperatures and the lack of rainfall. Spain, Portugal and the UK are among those affected, with France, too, experiencing yet another heat wave. With temperatures topping 40 degrees, the Southwest of France is bearing the brunt of the fires, with an area four times the size of Paris burnt outside Bordeaux. President Macron said it was the toughest situation the country had dealt with since the Second World War. Quinn Loder reports from the Gironde region.

[B]

Standing at the centre of a small, deserted town in the heart of the Gironde fireground, what strikes me first is the silence. A place which would usually be bustling with tourists. Lej Cap Ferre is awkwardly, disturbingly quiet. Homes are empty, the doors of the few shops and restaurants here firmly closed. The odd fire engine drives past, the church also closed, the crew making their way to the latest blaze. Otherwise eerie birdsong is my only company. Then, from nowhere, a beaming man pushing a bicycle emerges from around a corner. We say hello and he tells me his name is Christian. He says he refused to leave his home when the evacuation order came. For a week, he's remained here, defending his property with a hose pipe and a power washer. His property has not been damaged, but he is now regretting his decision to stay. My carbon monoxide monitor is giving dangerously high readings, he tells me. But I have no car. I'm stuck here. As Christian wheels his bicycle away, the skies darken ominously. A fresh breeze whips up, bringing with it the now familiar foul and bitter stench of smoke. In a car park overlooking the local rugby ground, a makeshift command and control center has been set up by the fire service. It's here I meet Commander Mathieu Jaumat. Today is expected to be the peak of a new heat wave, the fourth France has experienced so far this summer. The commander tells me conditions are set to worsen over the next hour or two. He invites me to join him at 2pm to witness his crew's work as they fight the flames. It's an offer I can't refuse, travelling in convoy through what is Now a thick fog of smoke. We make our way through evacuated ghost towns, heading for the site of the latest flare up. A spokesperson on behalf of the fire service said fighting these fires was like David fighting Goliath. As the commander pulls up near a smoking woodland, the scale of the challenge is obvious. It's 40 degrees Celsius now, according to a higher car's inbuilt thermometer. But stepping outside, I can feel an even more intense heat emanating from the burning forest. The smoke here stings the eyes. Ash falls like confetti from the skies as the fires celebrate another blow in the battle with the beleaguered firefighters. Yes, we are exhausted, admits Commander Jomart. We keep fighting because we have to be with them, he says, pointing to the groups of local volunteers, shirtless, gruff looking men assembled on pickup trucks and vans loaded with huge containers of water. We have to be with the people who've lost their houses, says the commander. It's impossible for us to quit the battlefield, so we are tired, but we will sleep afterwards. It's so sad. 39 year old volunteer Kevin Cachan tells me he, like many others, wants to thank the fire crews tackling the blazes. I'm carrying the water that can be loaded onto the engines, he tells me. We are very grateful to them. A yellow helicopter, siren sounding, directs three planes towards the blaze. They each drop their loads of 6,000 litres of water on the burning trees in an attempt to help the ground crews, pointing their hoses hopefully skywards. This fire was extinguished, but as the heat builds and the wind rises, blazes like this one can easily come back alive. As I talk to the commander, the locals rush to a treeline nearby. New flames have taken hold in the shrubs. The men wildly fling water from buckets towards the small fire, desperately smashing the flames with heavy shovels. This time they are successful in preventing it from spreading. They traipse back to their vehicle, their exhausted, blackened bodies reminding me of the end of shift. Coal miners walking home in my South Wales valley's childhood. When I arrived in south Western France to cover the fires, there was talk of a threat to the city of Bordeaux itself. Mererid George, who's originally from Aberystwyth but has been living here for 16 years, told me she was leaving her home in the western suburbs of the city with her children. She feared the worst. When you see the smoke and you're breathing in this awful air, it becomes very real, she told me. It's unpredictable. It's jumping around, it's going in all directions. So I think there's a genuine chance it could get much, much worse, she went on. On the hottest day of this latest heat wave, I ask the commander whether the fire service is winning the fight against the flaming Goliath. I am hopeful, he says, but the war is not over. By nightfall the blazes are reported to be still burning, but under control. This day's battle may be won, but with Europe the fastest heating continent on Earth, the question which must surely now be asked is how or even can the apocalyptic scenes witnessed here over the past week be prevented in future?

[A]

Gwyn Loder now to Ecuador, a country caught in the epicenter of the global trade in illegal drugs. With its strategic position between the world's biggest cocaine producers, Colombia and Peru, the cartels have moved in and wreaked havoc. Ecuador's president, Daniel Naboa, was re elected last year, promising to continue his hardline policies to crack down on narco traffickers. But as Olagarin has seen on the streets of the country's most violent region, rooting out corruption and suppressing gangs is proving to be a relentless battle on many levels.

[C]

There were split screen moments during our trip to Ecuador, once a peaceful tourist haven and now one of the most dangerous places on earth. We stayed in the port city of Guayaquil, a major hub for cocaine smuggling. Outside our hotel downtown, where the streets look down at heel, an armed guard kept watch. Inside, a handful of American tourists geared up for a trip to the Galapagos, where their giant tortoises and flightless cormorants. But we had come to report on the horrors of the drug war, not the famed islands and their stunning wildlife. We interviewed two men in their 30s across enemy lines, both armed, both committed to their work, and both frank that it might cost them their lives. The first was a gang leader profiting from cocaine and extortion. Call me Jonathan, he said, sitting opposite me with a handgun in his lap, pointing in my direction. One of his lieutenants was by his side, a 17 year old in flip flops wielding a semi automatic rifle. Human rights workers say boys can be recruited into the gangs by the age of 12. Three years later, they can be contract killers. Jonathan admitted to taking lives but claimed his victims were all members of rival gangs. I asked how many he had killed. His reply until now, about eight, I think. I don't remember well. Our second interviewee is trying to stop the bloodshed. He's a police captain, John Carlos Bustamante, with a background in the Special Forces. He hunts gangs in the city of Duran, Ecuador's crime capital, and knows the risks. Three of his close friends, brothers in arms, have been killed fighting criminal groups. The gangs have plenty of weapons, he says, and more money than the state. He admits his parents worry. My dad calls all the time and asks my son, are you good? Tell me that you are good. The police captain and the drug dealer agree on one thing, that Ecuador is riddled with corruption. Jonathan says he has four policemen on his payroll who give him advance warning of any raids in his area. As for Captain Bustamante, he says he can only trust those right beside him, members of his own hand picked team. At his police station between raids, another officer looks around before speaking. You never know who is listening, he says. We heard that a lot in Ecuador. Along the banks of an estuary in Guayaquil, opposite a gang stronghold, an elderly man told us bodies began floating downstream four years ago. I've counted about a hundred, he said, some of them dismembered. A day later, when we reached the scene of a killing, the victim was still on the ground, crumpled beside a motorbike. Police suspect it was a revenge attack. Gang on gang. Locals looked on, saying little. Many here keep silent, to keep breathing. Only one man was willing to speak, and only on condition that he wasn't identified. Were used to this now because it happens every day, he said, you might just step outside and catch a stray bullet. Like many we met, he believes the war against the gangs will never be won. Criminals are like ghosts, he said in a low voice. They pop up wherever they please. Captain Bustamante plans to keep fighting. Maybe I am a little tired, he says, but it's my work. I believe we can win. We have to do it. The night before our departure, a gang leader was shot dead as he left the airport in Guayaquil. Two suspects were arrested, both teenagers from the new generation of hitmen. By the time we flew out the next day, it was business as usual at the airport, with no trace of of the bloodshed.

[A]

Ola Guerin. Earlier this week, Palestinian officials reported that Israeli settlers set fire to two mosques as well as cars and agricultural land in the occupied West Bank. The attacks came days after a clash between settlers and Palestinians near the village of Tal, which left four Palestinians and two Israelis dead. Both sides accused the other of provoking the violence. The confrontation has further inflamed the situation in the west bank, which has seen growing violence by extremist settlers against Palestinians, encouraged by far right elements in the current Israeli government. Here's our Middle east correspondent, Lucy Williamson.

[D]

When Shahid first refused to be interviewed. I put it down to reserve or caution. Dressed in a long black hijab that covered her hair, Shahid was eight and a half months pregnant. She was the Israeli army were firing tear gas from the road below, and she just agreed to share the roof of her family home with me and two male colleagues. We were trying to film a confrontation taking place in the village between residents and Israeli settlers. Plenty of reasons to be cautious, but no. She just wanted a few minutes to fix her makeup. Shahid lives in Al Muqaya in the occupied West Bank, a small Palestinian village on the front line of a violent battle with extremist Israeli settlers. The day we met, young settlers had attacked a nearby house and the Israeli army had blocked the roads around it. It's dangerous for everyone, shahed told me, adding that she was scared the baby, her first, would come during one of these weekly confrontations and she wouldn't be able to reach the hospital. Palestinian ambulance workers say Israeli forces routinely block them from reaching patients during these attacks. It's just one example of the many invisible lines that divide this landscape into tiny pieces, the boundaries of which are constantly changing. We've spent most of the past two weeks in the west bank, mainly around Nablus, and one of the most striking things about moving around Palestinian areas in this occupied land is how barriered and barricaded it is. Roads closed without warning by the army or blocked by settler attacks. On one trip into Nablus, our only way into the city was to cross a shuttered checkpoint on foot through a short patch of waste ground, carrying our bags, flak jackets and filming equipment to our Palestinian colleague's car on the other side. One problem solved, but another soon reared its head. Our van with its yellow Israeli number plate was now stuck on the wrong side of the checkpoint. Instead, we were traveling in a Palestinian car in instantly recognizable by its white registration plate. Some roads in the west bank are reserved only for Israeli cars, and shared roads carry risks. Both Palestinian and Israeli drivers complain of being targeted by stone throwing teenagers. But a Palestinian car is more likely to be seen as a threat by Israeli forces and as a target for violent Israeli settlers. As restrictions on Palestinians increase, freshly cut roads snake across the hills here, mapping a growing network of new Israeli settler outposts, unauthorized under Israeli law but still supported by the Israeli state with facilities and funding. In one Palestinian village, Khirbet Abu Fala, residents told me that four new outposts had appeared around the village in the years since I last visited two of them just in the previous month the settlers attack everywhere, sheep farmer Abu Abdullah told me. Even the buildings for his sheep where we were standing weren't safe. He said, if they see us here, they'll come. The right to walk in this landscape is becoming a lethal dance in which Israeli settlers, protected by their government and their army, have the upper hand. On the other side of Nablus, last weekend, a group of Israeli civilians walked within meters of residents houses in the Palestinian village of Tel, a regular demonstration of their rights over the land, other Israelis told us. The details of what happened next are contested, but it led to a confrontation in which an Israeli security guard from the nearby outpost of Havat Gilad was killed by a Palestinian resident who snatched his gun and shot him. Four Palestinians and an Israeli soldier were also killed in that incident. It triggered a wave of settler attacks on nearby Palestinian villages, including Sarah, where settlers set fire to six houses, damaged property and left one Palestinian man there with 12 stitches in his head. Israel's military said it was working to prevent what it calls incidents of nationalist crime. But while Israeli leaders publicly condemn extremist violence, they've overseen a rapid growth in settlement outposts here. From the edge of Sara, you can clearly see the block houses and sheds of Havat Gilad, stretched across the hills opposite. The two communities are less than a mile apart. But to enter Hevat Gilad, we had to return to the west bank on a separate visit, not only with an Israeli car, but an Israeli driver too. A resident in the outpost, a lawyer called Yehuda Shimon, told me that settler attacks were justified as revenge and that one Jewish life was worth 10 million Palestinians after they killed one Israeli. We need to kill all the people in Tal and Sara, even in Jit and Farata, he said. Why? Because we don't want it to happen again. I tell him it sounds racist. Yes, I know, he replied, but it's the truth. Because God chose us. And he adds, the Bible says this land is ours. As we leave the west bank, we get news that Shahed has given birth to a baby girl. This weekend will be the baby's first in Al Moraya, there's every chance she'll learn the meaning of settler attacks before she's even learnt the meaning of home.

[A]

Lucy Williamson Ever since a coup ignited a civil war in Myanmar five and a half years ago, the border city of Meersot in Thailand has served as a vital refuge for those fleeing the conflict and those trying to fight back against military rule. The population of Meersot has swelled with newcomers, and it's one of the best places to gauge the mood in Myanmar's opposition movement. Our Southeast Asia correspondent Jonathan Head has been talking to some of those who've been fighting to restore democracy.

[E]

Like a tropical version of cold war Berlin, Mesot is a gateway, a crossing point between two very different worlds. On this side of the little river that the Thais call the Moe is peace and stability. Good roads and shopping malls. A sanctuary from the hell that is modern day Myanmar. Over on the other side, there's chaos and bloodshed, warlords and scam centres. A country disintegrating. No surprise then that so many Burmese have sought sanctuary in Mesot, turning what was already a multi ethnic city into one teeming with spies and fugitives. A place of dreams and conspiracies. This is where the official leadership of the opposition hangs out. The the National Unity government that represents the elected administration overthrown by the military coup and countless other civil society groups doing their bit for what they called the revolution against military rule. That millions are still fighting for that revolution after more than five years is remarkable. The opposition movement emerged as a largely spontaneous reaction to the coup by millions of Burmese, especially the younger generation. Without weapons or experience, they took on a well equipped army known for its pitiless cruelty towards civilians. Their courage is astounding, but they have paid a very heavy price. With the tide in the war now turning in the military's favour, some are losing heart. Lewis was a successful businessman in Yangon. When the coup happened, he left his family to join the resistance. He heading to Karen State for military training that was offered by a long established insurgent army there. I thought it was my duty. He said that if I didn't take a stand against them seizing control of my country, I'd regret it for the rest of my life. He lived and fought for a year in the jungle before being captured. He was released last year. For him, that was enough. At the beginning our morale was so high, he recalls. We were willing to sacrifice our lives. But it's dragged on for too long and my kids need me now. He's quietly gone back to his business. Kin Ay also joined the armed resistance after realizing that peaceful protest in her hometown was no longer possible. Diminutive in stature, she found the physical demands of being a fighter daunting and decided she could do more good by helping the victims of the civil war. I realized my muscle was not in my arms, it was in my brain, she says. She started rescuing children who'd been enlisted into the ranks of the insurgency and bringing them back to Mae Sot to live in an old house that she rents there. She now has 14 teenage boys living with her and she teaches them life skills in the hope that they can find jobs in Thailand and stay out of the all consuming conflict in their own country. We're not born to be soldiers, she says. Our revolution will be a long struggle and and we need to change our strategy. It's not only about weapons. We need to think about health and education, too. As we talk, her boys share the preparation of their evening meal. There's plenty of laughter, but Kine says most of them show signs of being traumatized by the terrible things that they witnessed in the war. There are dozens of safe houses now in Mesot for those who've just arrived from Myanmar. Most have little money and no legal status in Thailand. They're always at risk of being deported or squeezed for bribes by the police. The residents are a mix of families, exiled politicians, young men avoiding conscription in Myanmar, or others taking a break from fighting in the war. Listening to them, though, you hear the same refrain that while they still believe in the revolution, they can no longer go on, either because they're exhausted or because or because they have families to support. Most successful revolutions in history have been carried out by ruthless and disciplined movements with strong leaders. Myanmar's opposition, though, is a fractious and unwieldy alliance of thousands of armed groups and civilian activists with no centralized leadership. Everyone does their own thing. Whereas the military regime, with substantial help from Russia and China, has been taking back much of the territory it lost in recent years and is winning greater diplomatic recognition, these are dispiriting times for those hoping for a restoration of democracy in Myanmar. Their struggle gets little attention in a world distracted by more consequential conflicts and almost no outside help. If some are losing the will to go on, you can hardly blame them.

[A]

Jonathan Head and finally, South Korea's government is worried about the health of the country's family life, spending billions to boost a long declining birth rate, lengthening maternity leave to a year and a half and offering free day care. And against expectations, it's beginning to work. In 2024, the trend reversed, and the government's been trying even more direct action to get young people cobbled up with state sponsored matchmaking events. Even the country's Buddhist monks have been helping out, as Jae Kwon discovered at a secluded mountainside temple.

[F]

Dongwasa is a beautiful mountainside Buddhist temple in the southeast of the country. It's a historic spot. In past centuries, its secluded location was A perfect base for Buddhist militias fighting foreign invasions of Korea. But today, South Korea is facing a new demographic collapse, so the Buddhist monks have rallied to save the country again. Except this time around, they are hosting matchmaking retreats in their temples. They get young people together for two days, filling the time with back to back events, including rounds of speed dating and talent shows. These people will date, get married and have children. Well, at least that's the plan. In the monastery courtyard, 12 men and 12 women, all in their late 20s and early 30s, gathered. They looked timid as they introduced themselves to each other. The organizers had picked them from more than 1600 applicants. They didn't have to be Buddhist, only sincere about having children. The problem with the young generation, the host told me, is that they're socially awkward. Surveys show that they are not dating as much as before, nor drinking, going out or joining social events for hobbies and sports. One man, Minho, darted out to help a woman carry her luggage. Not about to be bested, another man, Enyo, surprised the arriving women by handing out pastries he had baked the night before. Enyo said that since he got a stable factory job two years ago, he wanted to settle down and have a family. But nearly all his co workers are men and the dozen blind dates he had been on went nowhere. He said he hadn't tried dating apps in South Korea, they're still strongly associated with casual sex. A woman, Sonhae Ji, had a similar problem. She used to have a colorful social life when she lived near the capital Seoul. But since she moved to a small town, she is surrounded by people who are much older than her. So these singles had jumped at the chance to meet others who were vetted by the Monks to spend 30 hours of quality time with them. That seemed long on paper, but it went by very quickly. After the first ice breaking round, a brisk group walk around the woods, the men chose the women they wanted to share lunch with. One by one, they brought a plastic rose to the woman they liked. Then it was the most nerve wracking event of the day, the talent show. Min Ho, who proved quite popular, went first. He danced to 2pm's K Pop song My Home while Ennyo sang a love song. One 28 year old designer Ruby introduced herself in Spanish, catching Minho's eye. Then, before they could catch a breath, it was the speed dating round. Each pair sped through said conversation topics themed around marriage and family. Every 10 minutes, a bell was rung, signaling men to move one seat over. It became obvious that Seony Ji and Ruby Both had eyes for Minho. When it was the women's turn to choose the men for the dinner date, Seonya Ji quickly gave her rose to Minho. Enyeo was not chosen and had dinner with the others who did not find a partner. After dinner, a senior monk led the singles to the courtyard. He gave a rousing, patriotic speech on their duties as Koreans to procreate. He ended by leading the group in singing the national anthem. But the singles didn't seem very interested in saving the country that night. In the final round, Ruby passed her rose to Minho. Son Ye Ji and Ennyo looked exhausted. The host did his best to cheer up the participants, telling them that they still had time to find love. There is no curfew, he said, and the night can be full of surprises. In the morning, the singles texted their choices to the host. Eight couples were formed, including two matches between event staff and participants. Enyo, with his hands in his pockets, watched the lineup of couples who took a celebratory group photo. Ruby held the rose Min Ho handed to her. They said they want to be married in two years. I asked Son Ye Ji if she was disappointed. She was cheerful, albeit tired. She said she had stayed up until 3am gossiping with the other women in her room. Dating proved as difficult inside the temple as it is outside, but everyone left with something they have been missing new friends and fresh confidence.

[A]

Jake Kwan Ending this episode from Our Own Correspondent was produced by Emma Close and Polly Hope. The editor was Richard Fenton Smith. I'm Kate Ady and you can hear more stories from around the world on From Our Own Correspondent on BBC Sounds, including the story of India's cockroach protests and the anger in Ukraine over army conscription. We'll be back with a new episode next Saturday.

[E]

I'm David Dimbleby and from the history podcast and BBC Radio 4, this is Invisible Hands the American Century.

[D]

It's the story of how, in the

[E]

ashes of World War II flash Washington. The White House announces Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, America rose to become a global superpower.

[C]

The United States, whatever our faults may

[D]

be, is the hope of the world

[E]

and the invisible hands who made it happen.

[B]

He's probably the most important person nobody ever heard of.

[E]

Listen to Invisible Hands the American Century first on BBC Sounds.