In the heart of winter, when the air bites and the skies brood, a fierce North Wind swept across the sea toward a smaller island nation. This mighty gale was fanned by an elder brother who, in his heart, still claimed the younger as merely one of his own provinces.

Yet the younger brother had long since forged his own path: a government chosen freely by his people, a diligent civil service, a voice in the councils of the world, and even a shield of arms to guard his shores.

Long ago, after a bitter civil war, the younger fled eastward to his island refuge. There he embraced the ways of the open market. Prosperity bloomed like spring cherry blossoms, far outshining the fortunes of his elder kin across the strait.

The elder brother, in earlier days, stumbled gravely. Famine stalked his lands; hunger and sorrow claimed countless souls. In those lean years, he possessed no strength to summon the wind.

But in the 1980s, a quiet transformation began. The elder adopted the market’s ways, rose tall, grew stout, and gathered mighty strength. Year after year he rehearsed grand displays of power—encircling the island with roaring jets, fleets of grey warships, and batteries of fire along his coast. Thus the North Wind howled ever fiercer upon his younger brother.

Yet the harder the North Wind blew, the more tightly the younger wrapped his cloak about him. Enraged, the elder tried to blow even harder.

A distant great power, witnessing the younger brother’s plight, pledged solemn aid should the storm ever break into true assault. More recently, a nearer neighbor declared the same—vowing to stand beside the great power if the elder should strike.

Upon hearing this, the North Wind fell into hysterical fury. One of its chief envoys abroad spoke wild threats of severing heads; an imposing carrier battle group sailed defiantly through southern waters as another gust of icy menace.

So Aesop, were he here today, might offer this gentle counsel: Cease the chilling blasts of the North Wind. Instead, let the elder brother shine the warm, golden rays of the Sun upon his younger kin. Who knows—in a century’s gentle turning, the younger may yet choose, of his own heart, to draw nearer once more.