Pleasure and Pain at Shanghai World Expo

by Maple, guest blogger

[in translation; 阅读中文原文]

SHANGHAI, China – Before the Shanghai Expo began, a friend and I made different predications on which month would be the most crowded. She said May, because it'd start with the three-day labor-day holiday period. I said June, because everyone would think the same way my friend did and thus try to avoid May. I was unfortunately right, but because of a chance circumstance, I myself ended up going there in the peak month.

My husband and I planned on a three-day visit: one day each to the Asia Square, Europe and America Squares, and the Urban Best Practices Area, respectively.

Friends who had been there before told us, if you don't want to wait for hours in line outside the Expo gate, noon is a better time to go. Indeed, we arrived at the security point around 11:30 am, and there was almost no line. When asked, a staff said that since 9:00, over 400 thousand people had gone in. My heart tightened: what a rumpus would 400 thousand people kick up inside! But when we reached the square, it was surprisingly empty. Where had all the people gone? Standing in lines all over the world.

Lines at Expo gate (photo by Maple Xu)

On Translation of "Mob Mentality"

Yesterday I received an email from Beijing, which mentions in passing that a Chinese translation of my two articles (here and here) is circulating on the internet.  I took a look and saw that the translation was originated from China Digital Times (here and here). 

There is an error in the translation I'd like to correct. Before going there, however, I must say I have tremendous respect for China Digital Times, which has done a great job relaying China-themed news and commentaries between the English and Chinese worlds.  It appears to me that the translator of my articles is a young member of a Beijing voluntary translator group called 译者. I recommend you check out the 译者 website because it has rich, up-to-date information on China's current affairs.

The translation in question could use some polishing but is acceptable for the most part. One can't demand too much from volunteer work, which I appreciate very much.  As such I'm only going to address one error that, left uncorrected, makes parts of the article incoherent.  I've tried to contact the translator, but because the translation has been circulating extensively on the Chinese internet and can't be all corrected, I feel the need to post it on my blog.

Here is the part of the Chinese translation on China Digital Times I'm talking about:

毕竟，文革的一代中，没有几个人是完全清白的。 文化大革命是一场全民运动。 在那个时期，极少有人能逃脱思想煽动。 即便是今天，一想到那时如果我岁数够大，可能也会铸成什么令我悔恨终生的大错，就会出冷汗。

作为一个作者，比起对当时的人们指指点点的评论，我总是对了解当时的思想煽动更感兴趣。 为了了解当时的情况，我们必须不断的挖掘历史真相。 我认为我们挖掘的还不够深，了解的还不够多。 今年早些时候，我听说当很多人指责张艺谋新排的贺岁片很蠢时，这位著名的导演声称中国人民有着太多像文革那样的沉重话题，他们所需要的是一些轻松的电影。 张艺谋只从自己这一代人的角度看问题的狭窄眼界让我非常震惊。 难道他没发现当代的年轻人对文革和1989年一类的事件完全无知么？ 在思想煽动这件事上，他们并未从父辈那儿接受任何教训，现在，因特网上已经开始出现新式思想煽动的苗头。

And here is my original text:

After all, few of the CR generation were completely innocent. The Cultural Revolution was an all-people movement. It was a time that few escaped the mob mentality. Even today it gives me cold sweats with the thought that, if I were old enough then, I could have done terrible things that I would regret for a lifetime.

As a writer, I’ve always been more interested in understanding the mob mentality than pointing fingers. To understand we have to keep digging through the past. I don’t think we have dug deep enough, have understand enough. I heard that, early this year, when Zhang Yimou made a New Year movie that many deemed too stupid, the famous director claimed that Chinese people had enough heavy topics like the CR, what they needed now were light-hearted, relaxing movies. It surprises me that Zhang’s sight is this narrow, from only the viewpoint of his generation. Has he noticed that today’s young people are very ignorant of the recent past such as the CR and 1989? Without learning the lessons from their parents, new signs of mob mentality have already began to show on the internet.

As you can see, the phrase "mob mentality," which means "暴民心态", is wrongly translated as 思想煽动 (meaning "thought demagogy"). A totally different concept.

Again, I really appreciate the volunteer work of those young people and their interest in the CR history.  Perhaps the error occurred because "mob mentality" is an unfamiliar concept to the young generation of Chinese, which in turn might partially explain why mob mentality has been commonplace on the Chinese internet. If so, I hope this post may serve as stimulation for young people's interest in studying, and recognizing, mob mentality.

And I hope the promising translator will not be discouraged by this. To become good at translation requires lots of practice, so this should be just one small experience.

By the way, I rather like this translator's translation of my book title, "酝酿中的道歉"，which literally means "apologies in fermentation." I hope one day my book will have the opportunity to be published in Chinese, and this would be a good title for it.  

Update (6/27):  I received a kind email from the translator who says they'll fix the error on their website. I appreciate it.

Matchmaking Censorship

For a moment, I thought my previous post  was the curse:  this past Sunday, PPStream ceased broadcasting the reality TV show "If You Are Not Sincere, Don't Bother Me" (非诚勿扰),  just three days after my post.  Not only that, much to my chagrin, all the previous episodes have also been removed.  Then I found an announcement on the PPS website saying they did this to comply with new instructions from The State Administration of Radio, Film and Television (SARFT), issued twice on June 2 and 8. (My ominous post went up on June 9.)

Here is the gist of the SARFT instructions:

婚恋交友类电视节目不能由演员、模特、节目主持人、“富二代”、“成功人士”等身份的嘉宾占据荧屏；不得选择社会形象不佳或有争议的人物担当主持人；不得 以婚恋的名义对参与者进行羞辱或人身攻击，甚至讨论低俗涉性内容，不得展示和炒作拜金主义等不健康、不正确的婚恋观。

[In translation]

Matchmaking TV shows may not let actors, models, program hosts, 'the second generation of the rich,' and 'the successful figures'  appear as guests to occupy the screen; may not choose those with disreputable social image or contentious characters as hosts; may not use the name of love or marriage to insult or make personal attacks against participants, or discuss vulgar sexual content ;  may not demonstrate or  promote unhealthy and incorrect marriage-love views such as mammonism.

Did the bureaucrats at SARFT eat too much and have nothing better to do?  What made them issue such superfluous and laughable restrictions on non-political, entertaining, and revealing TV shows?  Rumor has it that Ma Nuo, one of the earlier female guests in "If You Are Not Sincere," triggered the shot.  Ma Nuo's most infamous quote circling on the internet is "I'd rather cry in a BMW" – her reply to a male guest, a cyclist, who asked if she'd like to ride a bike with him.  (But Baidu has a post that says what she actually said was "a BMW is rather cool." In Chinese, "cry" (哭)  and "cool" (酷) sound pretty much the same.) Because of this, Ma Nuo's name has become a synonym of "mammonism," and been attacked by numerous netizens.  And this, apparently, became the motive to restrict "the second generation of the rich" to participate in matchmaking shows.

Deng Xioaping, the "father of reform and opening," promulgated the notion that "being rich is glorious." No more, I guess, but wouldn't it be  more effective to simply order "the rich" to stay single, or have a "zero-child policy" for them and their children?
 

So what is next? Perhaps cooking shows that mention any meats other than pork, or any vegetable other than cabbage, will come under the lens. Or maybe weather programs that suggest anything but fine weather or needed rain are on the way will be nixed. Maybe business programs that discuss financial problems in the Euro-zone will be told to stop that and go along with the official position of expected stability.

Not surprisingly, the hypocritical call is met with hypocritical responses.  So far all the TV stations running a matchmaking show have made sonorous echoes that they "firmly advocate SARFT's instructions," while each and every one of them says they have nothing to do with the criticism. The shows continue; only we overseas audiences are deprived the pleasure of watching them at PPStream's mercy.

Times have certainly changed. It seems like those outside of China can be more strongly influenced by the edicts of Beijing than those inside. The government can continue to issue superfluous instructions that are not sincere, just don't expect everyone to be bothered as much as PPStream.

If You Are Not Sincere, Don’t Bother Me

Sunday evening, June 6.  On the stage ablaze with lights stand 24 women, most in their early 20s, and not yet betrothed, waiting for their chance at “fast matchmaking.”  Before each of the women is a green-lighted podium with her number, her name and a switch.  A young man descends from a glass elevator:  first shoes, then pants, then the black jacket, black glasses, and a black hat hiding a lowered head.  Pop music and applause break out.

Meng Fei, the bald host aged 39, asks the 28-year-old handsome Shanghai man: “Why do you dress like a magician?”

We hear a nervous reply, ”Eh…they say I look a bit like Harry Potter…”

After some good-natured teasing, Meng Fei hands the young man a digital pad and asks him to choose one girl who “arouses your heart. “

We see the number he enters–  “1” – but it is concealed from the women on the stage.  Suspense immediately builds.  This woman, Xie Jia, is a college student 22 years young, who says she did not discover herself as a woman until age 21. Good looking, intelligent, she has nonetheless rarely been chosen by men, and has been standing there for many installments.  Judging by appearances, the two look like a match. I find myself hoping Xie Jia will be taken away in this man’s arms.

The women appraise him for a first impression.  Meng Fei turns to all, “Please choose.”

Ding, ding.   Two girls’ lights go off – “Not interested.” Most leave theirs on (I am relieved to see Xie Jia among them), watching the "magician" with open curiosity.  

Meng Fei asks the two girls why they turned off their lights.

”I have no interest in Harry Potter,” one woman replies.  Laughter ensues from the audience.

“He does not make me feel secure,” says the other, "not at all."

Three more thresholds await the man. If, after that, there are still lights on, he’ll be able to enter the final stage “rights reverse to the male.”   Otherwise he receives a “failure exit." The suspense is that of a well-plotted drama.

Only this is a reality show that is more engaging than most movies I’ve seen.  Titled after Feng Xiaogang's popular movie, “If You Are Not Sincere, Don’t Bother Me” (非诚勿扰), the weekend matchmaking show broadcast on Jiangsu Satellite TV is currently China's highest rated program.  I first heard about it shortly after its launch in January, but did not pay much attention because reality shows don't usually interest me.  Over time, however, more and more Chinese friends were telling me how fun it is to watch.  When I started to watch the re-made Three Kingdoms on PPStream, Jiangsu TV had bundled it with “If You Are Not Sincere, Don’t Bother Me” for weekend prime time.  Once I clicked it, I was hooked.

To my dismay, the young man who looked like Harry Potter did not pass the women's scrutiny.  Before he had a chance for "rights reverse to the male," all the lights had gone off, including Xie Jia's, who apparently was not aware of his admiration.  I'm not sure which of his statements, "I can peel lobster very fast," or "I love to hand-wash clothes on a washboard," had turned her off, except that those words did not demonstrate whatever quality Xie Jia was looking for in a man.

The program is one-hour long, and each male guest is given 20 minutes or so on stage. For the installments I've seen so far, the majority of male guests got a "failure exit."  Even for those lucky ones who enter the final stage, the remaining lights often do not include the woman "arousing his heart." Thus successful matchmaking remains rare.  At times, however, a happy ending can move the audience to tears.

Last Saturday, after two men exited with failure, an ordinary-looking, round-face young photographer with a collected, quiet humor took away his choice woman, Liu Huan, unexpectedly.  The outcome was unusual because of the beautiful young woman's odd situation: Liu Huan had been on stage together with her mother.  She had turned her light off early on, however the mother kept her light on. When Meng Fei asked why, the mother said the man would be an ideal son-in-law for her. Toward the end, six lights were still on. Meng Fei told the young photographer if he wanted one of those, he could take her hand right away. But if he insisted on Liu Huan, he might end up leaving alone. 

The young man insisted, and was given 30 seconds for a last-ditch pursuit.  "Do you know my situation?" Liu Huan asked. "Yes I do," the young man answered. Liu Huan (who apparently had turned down many pursuers) said she had joined the program to help her mother, and would not leave before her mother found a good match.  Her voice began to tremble; her mother covered her face as tears running down.  Applause and sobs could be heard from the audience.  "Today I'm surprised to see my mother kept her light on for me to the last minute. I’ve decided to be a good daughter," Liu Huan said. The young couple held hands; cheers and applause followed for a long time. The mother and daughter left together for good.

The show is a kaleidoscope of contemporary Chinese views of love, marriage, and life style.  I was especially amazed by the candid, openness of the young women, and their bravery to bear public scrutiny. The relentless internet spreads numerous comments on the looks, personality, and value system of the women, sometimes positive and more often negative. A righteous-sounding man even took his opportunity on the stage to scold a girl to tears, because she once said that to sit in a BMW would be more cool than riding a bike.   It is not easy to be oneself under such pressure. I recall my twenties in the 1980s, even to place an anonymous personal ad in newspaper was a disgrace.  Times have changed.

"If You Are Not Sincere" is not the only matchmaking show in China, however the others are not nearly as popular. Its success largely depends on host Meng Fei’s wit, sensibility, and broad-knowledge.  In researching his background, I was surprised to learn he was from my hometown Chongqing.  Between high school graduation and success as a TV program host, he had been a low-paid temp doing odd jobs for many years.  His story is that rare one of success for a self-learned man. 

As of last week, 160-170 thousand applications to participate in the show had queued up from all over China.  Meng Fei announced recently that, in response to keen overseas demand, this "fast matchmaking" program is going to be launched in London and other foreign cities as well.

I have seen several overseas Chinese men appear in the program (none with success), but not a single non-Chinese.   To those Americans who live in China and are single, would you like to give it a try?

Killing Children - An Act of War Against China’s Collective Future

New America Media, news analysis, Xujun Eberlein, Published: May 17, 2010

In Hanzhong, Shannxi, a mother-and-son team rented a rural property to open a private kindergarten for 20 children. One day the son found a snake inside and killed it. This disturbed the property owner, 48-year-old Wu Huanming, who had been suffering from a variety of diseases and had grown increasingly superstitious in recent years. Blaming the snake killing for the ineffectiveness of his medical treatment, Wu went into a frenzy. On the morning of May 12, Wu entered the kindergarten carrying a meat cleaver and hacked to death seven children, along with the mother-and-son proprietors, wounding another 11 children in the process. Wu committed suicide afterward.

Hanzhong police provided these details at a press conference a day after the killing, according to Xi’an Morning Post.  At first glance, it looked like another malignant but isolated crime. In fact, it was only the latest in a series of mass attacks on young children in different provinces of China that occurred between March 23 and May 12. Beijing police said last Wednesday they successfully interdicted seven criminal attempts targeting schools and kindergartens in that city alone.

All over China, people winced. Why are young children being slaughtered? Such massive attacks on children did not happen even in the Cultural Revolution, the most violent period of Communist China. And now China is experiencing unprecedented prosperity.

Despite the apparent similarities in actions and targets, there is no universal explanation of motive. Among the killers besides Wu Huanming were a doctor who could not find a job and, at age 42, had a history of failed relationships, a 40-year-old villager who had suffered mental illness for five years, a 31-year-old school teacher on sick leave for four years; a 46-year-old unemployed man with debts resulting from multi-level marketing, and a 45-year-old villager whose newly-built house faced demolition.

Two of the six suspects were said to have suffered mental illness, prompting concerns about China’s lack of mental health care. But insanity can hardly explain the other four cases.

Most of the suspects lived at the bottom of the society, leading observers to blame their anger and desperation on the wealth gap. The Internet is abuzz with questions about whether China’s economy should be characterized as that of a “rich state, poor people.” But even this does not explain why children were repeatedly targeted.

Chinese cherish children as the promise of their future and their defense against death. Though rare stories exist about “exchanging [dead] children to eat” (“易子而食”),  those were from disastrous periods of war and famine, when desperation was all there was. Has China today entered such a period of extreme disaster?

Harming children on a mass scale did not start this year. As early as 2004, long before the Sanlu milk scandal, there was the “dark-heart milk powder” incident in which counterfeit milk powder caused the deaths of 13 babies and permanent disablement of 171 others. It outraged the entire nation that someone would target babies to make a profit. That incident reflected a moral decay in China, but no one could have foreseen that child-harming would escalate to the raw violence seen this year.

In one of the six recent school attacks, 45-year-old Wang Yonglai was an even-tempered Shandong villager and a long-time party member. On the morning of April 30, Wang carried a hammer to the village’s elementary school, and pounded five preschool children on their heads. Wang then poured gasoline on himself, grabbed two children into his arms, and lit himself on fire. While Wang burned to death, the two children were pulled to safety by teachers.

This tragedy happened on the day Wang’s new house was to be demolished. According to an investigative report in the independent Caijing magazine, Wang’s greatest wish in life was to build a new house for his son, now 20 years old, so that he would be able to get a wife. Last year, after Wang spent his lifetime savings plus 60,000 yuan of debt, the new house was finally built. Wang had gone through all of the proper procedures. In June 2009, the local government issued Wang’s house the “rights certificate.” On the day of April 23, 2010, however, Wang received notice from a government department that his house was an illegal building and must be demolished in two days. Wang and his daughter called and went to many places trying to save the house -- the mayor’s hotline, the “law hotline,” the TV station -- to no effect.

“Wang Yonglai’s new house still stands right now,” the Caijing report says, “while the demolition day became the day of his death. Using his death, five little children’s blood, and the serial effect of other school attacks, he temporarily preserved the painstaking effort of his life.”

One office of the government approved Wang’s house’s legal status, but another government office judged it an illegal building. Wang was given only a few days notice before the demolition. The government was too powerful, and the ordinary villager powerless. Finally, “the weak take revenge on the weaker,” concludes a Chinese blogger. Robbed of his future by a state impervious to his plight, he took revenge by destroying others’ futures -- their children.

Wang’s plight is reminiscent of that of a Sichuan woman, Tang Fuzhen, who burned herself to death last November in a failed attempt to stop the local government from demolishing her house. After her death, the government judged Tang and her relatives to be criminals who “used violence to fight the law.” The government also tried to block media reports on the case. Tang’s death, and similar self-immolations in other Chinese cities, did not stop forceful house demolitions by the government and developers, nor did the tragedy rouse any remorse. Only about a month ago, a government official involved in demolishing Tang’s house was still saying the cause of the tragedy was that Tang “did not have knowledge of law.”

When suicide alone is no longer effective, the most horrific crime – mass killing of children -- becomes the most effective option to some of those desperate enough to end their own lives. More than a manifestation of individual problems or even of social injustice, it is an act of war against China’s collective future. It is a sign that now is a time of extreme desperation, for all China’s great strides toward prosperity.

After Four Decades, Apologies Are Coming Forth

In December 2007, I wrote a news commentary for NAM titled “On Mao’s 114th Birthday, Past Catches up to Former Red Guard Leader,” a story about Song Binbin. (If you are not familiar with the name “Song Binbin,” there is a short introduction in that piece.)

At the time, it was a mystery to me what Song’s role was in the beating death of her school’s vice principal Bian Zhongyun on the afternoon of August 5, 1966. Despite numerous Chinese people proclaiming Song’s guilt (and an American lawyer even advocating bringing her to trial today), in my research I never found evidence showing that Song directly participated in the beating.

On the other hand, witness citations pointed to the fact that Song was on campus at the time, and might even have been in the crowd watching.  For example, a schoolmate of hers named Tao Luosong said in a 2007 statement that while principal Bian and other teachers were beaten on a stage, “Song Binbin happened to stand behind me. I heard her say, ‘That might be a way to cut back their arrogance.’” (“煞煞他们的威风也好.” I should say that the expression “也好” is somewhat difficult to translate; it has a tone of “not the best option, but…”)

I wondered why, when Song gave a veiled interview in the documentary Morning Sun denying any involvement in violence, she did not provide particulars of her whereabouts on that tragic afternoon of her youth. If she wanted to clear up her name, aren’t particularities much more effective than an abstract claim?

Now, two and a half years after I wrote that piece, the picture is getting clearer. In the most recent issue (the 47^th) of a Chinese e-journal titled "记忆" (Remembrance) is a rather detailed dialogue between five women, one of them Song Binbin. The other participants include Song’s high school friend Liu Jin, and three  lower-grade schoolmates of theirs, who did not know Song personally at the time of the violence. In recent years, all of them are actively involved in investigations aimed at recovering facts around the “August 5 Incident.”

In her introduction, Feng Jinglan, who conducted the discussion, says they have visited 110 teachers and schoolmates in their investigations. The article is rather long, divided into six sections:

1.      - The first “big-character poster” (大字报)

2.      - The work-team (工作组) period

3.      - The post-work-team period

4.      - The August 5 incident

5.      -  Red Guards and August 18

6.      - About Song Binbin

On “the August 5 incident,” in a nutshell, the conclusion is that Liu Jin and Song Binbin (both student leaders whose influence was waning in the post-work-team period), as well as some others were meeting in an office when, unknown to them, the violence started in the central campus playground.  After they heard about it, Liu, Song and company went to the site to try to stop the beating, then left when they thought their persuasion had worked. A while later, they heard the teachers were again beaten in the rear playground. For the second time the student leaders went to the site.  Again they left when they saw the beating had apparently stopped. At dusk, they were shocked to hear principal Bian was dying in the rear school yard. They rushed Bian to a hospital, had arguments with a doctor who was reluctant to help a “black gang,” and finally got emergency treatment for Bian, but it was too late.

This largely clears up Song Binbin’s role in the incident. I am pretty much convinced that she neither organized nor participated in the beating, and later that day she actively sought medical treatment for Bian.  In my mind some questions remain, but I’ll address those in another post.

In the section about the “August 5 incident,” Feng Jinglan asks questions, and Liu Jin gives most of the answers based on what she remembers as well as her latest investigations which fill the gaps in her faded memory. Ye Weili adds her part of witness memory and observations. Oddly though, Song Binbin, the center of focus, is quiet. None of Feng’s questions here is directly addressed to her. The only time Song speaks in this section is about a recent visit to an old teacher:

宋彬彬：那天去看梅老师，一进门看见他满头白发的样子，我心里充满愧疚，就说了对不起老师的话，这是发自内心的、一直想说的话。虽然8月5日事发当天，我们也去劝说、阻止过，但是并没有预想到事态的极端后果。想到卞校长被学生暴力殴打死于非命，其他校领导老师们身心遭受重创，40多年来我一直非常痛心、愧疚和懊悔。利用这个机会，我想再次表示对他们的歉意和追悔。

[in translation]

          Song Binbin: That day [we] went to see Teacher Mei, as soon as [I] entered the door and saw his all white-haired look, remorse filled my heart, so I said sorry to the teacher. The words came from [my] heart, what I had always wanted to say.  Although on the day of August 5 when the incident happened, we tried too to persuade them to stop [the violence], we did not anticipate the situation’s extreme consequence. Thinking of Principal Bian’s death under the students’ violent beating, and other teachers and administrators suffering severe physical and mental harm, for over 40 years I’ve always felt heartache, remorse, and regret. I’d like to take this opportunity to express my apology and regret to them again.

This is new and significant. Though I wish Song had laid out specifics in her own words about her activities on the day of August 5, 1966, not just let others speak on her behalf, I applaud for her sincere apology nearly 44 years later.  As I wrote two and a half years ago, “So far, few former Red Guards have come out and talked about their actions. Most are in their 60s now, remaining behind a wall of silence. I can understand their excuse that the violence they were involved in was circumstantial, non-personal, and, at the time, even politically correct.  Still, I can't help but wonder: Had Song Binbin acknowledged her part in, clarified her position on, and properly expressed her sorrow for that tragic day of 1966, would people's reaction today have been more restrained? Would she have been forgiven by those who crouched in terror that day, as well as by those who had terrorized and now try to forget their shame?”

I recall years earlier, after seeing the documentary Morning Sun, a friend, who felt Song was too caught up in clearing of her own name, commented, “Why didn’t she express any sorrow about Bian Zhongyun’s death at all?”  Yes, it would have been better for both Song and the film audience if she had spoken those sincere words then, but it’s still not too late now.

Many CR participants who weren’t physically involved in violence might feel their apologies are not called for. ("They haven't stepped out, why should I?")  Other more enlightened minds feel differently. A few weeks ago I went to Harvard University to attend a conference titled “Red Legacy in China.” One of the speakers, Carma Hinton, director of Morning Sun, told a story of her high school reunion in Beijing last year: the entire class gave a collective apology to their old teachers. The teachers, now aged, were very touched. So was I. My understanding is that none of those in the reunion had committed violence, yet they were not exceptions to denouncing teachers, as it was the norm of the time.

After all, few of the CR generation were completely innocent. The Cultural Revolution was an all-people movement. It was a time that few escaped the mob mentality. Even today it gives me cold sweats with the thought that, if I were old enough then, I could have done terrible things that I would regret for a lifetime.

As a writer, I’ve always been more interested in understanding the mob mentality than pointing fingers. To understand we have to keep digging through the past. I don’t think we have dug deep enough, have understand enough. I heard that, early this year, when Zhang Yimou made a New Year movie that many deemed too stupid, the famous director claimed that Chinese people had enough heavy topics like the CR, what they needed now were light-hearted, relaxing movies. It surprises me that Zhang’s sight is this narrow, from only the viewpoint of his generation. Has he noticed that today’s young people are very ignorant of the recent past such as the CR and 1989? Without learning the lessons from their parents, new signs of mob mentality have already began to show on the internet.

A reader once asked me what I think the present effects are in China of people not being able to openly discuss what happened during the CR. I told her the real danger is not from the government restriction on the topic but from a voluntary silence of the people who participated, because what was glorious then, is shameful now. And there are a lot of them, the entire generation that grew up with Mao’s New China, the older sisters and brothers or my generation, the parents of the post-70s and even 80s.

I’m a pessimist when it comes to human nature and I’d thought the apology would forever be in the forthcoming (but never arriving), thus my book title. Song Binbin’s apology and that from Carma Hinton’s class seem to be rays of new hope. I can see how the courage to apologize has taken more than 4 decades to pluck up; it is courageous nonetheless. Perhaps the wall of silence is starting to crack?

Of course, for those who committed violence, the obstacle in delivering the apology is a lot bigger.  I remain pessimistic on this.

Ba Manzi's Tomb

It was reported that, early this month, the Ba Manzi Tomb in Chongqing was reopened to the public ("for free"), after being closed for more than a decade.  This news bears certain intimacy to me because, I suspect, Ba Manzi's blood once steeped deep in my mother's veins.

During China's Warring State Period (475-221BC), Ba Manzi was a general commanding the Ba Kingdom's army. This small kingdom was caught in a civil strife that its tiny army was unable to quell. Manzi turned for help to Chu, a much bigger neighboring kingdom, and offered Chu three towns to restore order. Chu’s army came to Ba and quelled the internecine war, at which point Chu’s king sent an envoy to receive the three promised towns. Manzi said to the envoy, “My head may be given, our land may not. Because I can’t give you our land, to keep my promise I’ll give you my head.” He drew out his sword and cut off his own head. All were shocked. The envoy brought Ba Manzi’s head back to the King of Chu. The king was so moved that he held a grand burial for the head, while the Kingdom of Ba gave an equally grand burial to the body. The three towns of Ba stayed intact.

Thus Ba Manzi's head and body were buried in separate locations. However, Huayang Guozhi (《华阳国志》), the ancient book that recorded the story, does not say exactly where. Experts say the Ba Manzi Tomb in Chongqing does not contain his remains; it could contain just clothing, or could be empty. Why such an empty tomb is in Chongqing, who built it and when, is one of numerous puzzles in China's history.

My mother shares the hometown, now the Zhong County (忠县), with Ba Manzi. The place, a few hundred miles downstream from Chongqing, was the ancestral land of the Ba tribe that mysteriously vanished some two thousand years ago. It was an improbable chance of literacy that brought my mother, the daughter and only surviving child of poor peasants, to learn the story of Ba Manzi at age thirteen. For two thousand years until the 1949 liberation, in each spring, on the third day of the third moon of the Old Calendar, Zhong County held a grand temple fair called “third moon festival” to commemorate Ba Manzi.  As a middle school student in the early 1940s, my mother danced and sang and paraded in each year’s “third moon festive." Since then, Ba Manzi's patriotic, self-sacrificing heroism has never lost its vitality for her. I suspect her drive to join the underground Communists before the liberation and risk her life for a cause that later proved vain, that brought her life-long pain, had something to do with Ba Manzi's spirit. On the other hand, her illiterate mother, my grandma who we called Gaga, who knew nothing of heroes beyond cats, water buffaloes and mythical rhinoceroses, lived a relatively more contented life of 95 years. Gaga was born in the same year as Mao – 1893, but out-lived Mao for a full cycle of twelve Earthly Branch years.

My mother is sure that her ancestors were native Zhong County inhabitants ever since Pangu separated the sky and earth from chaos, because in her youth she had read her family genealogical chart. "It contains eight generations of my ancestors, all in Gingko Bay village," she once told me. When the Chinese say "eight generations," it does not mean eight; it means all. If this is the case, then I'm fairly confident my mother is a descendant of the Ba tribe, the valiant, dance-love ancients who forged bronze swords along the Yangtze and buried their dead in boat-coffins hanging on high cliffs above the gorges.

In February 2009, I revisited the Ba Manzi Tomb in Chongqing. It had become a forgotten, dilapidated, dark basement of the commercial world. Though its name was on the tourist map, few residents along the street knew about its exact location, and I had to ask many people to eventually find its obscured entrance. Down a flight of wide stone steps piled with furniture supplies, the tomb front had turned into an unauthorized storage room for a retail store. Another, fancier furniture store sat on top of the tomb. I asked a store worker if he worried about the government's punishment for occupying the site of a cultural relic, he said no, during the several years he worked next door to the tomb, he had seen occasional tourists, even foreigners, but no government people. That's why they had unscrupulously piled their furniture supplies, blocking the sight of it.

The Ba Manzi Tomb in Chongqing (February 2009)

in front of the tomb (Feb. 2009)

on the tomb's top (Feb. 2009)

Now, why did the Chongqing government suddenly remember it? Is it because Bo Xilai needed another teachable instrument for heroism and patriotism?

That's beyond me at this moment, as I'm fascinated by something else: it just occurred to me that my father's lineage has an almost opposite nature, almost anti-heroism, from that of my mother's.

The Chinese say marriage is the combination of yin and yang, in which the woman possesses the softness of yin and the man the power of yang.  In my upbringing, however, it had always seemed to us children that our mother was the yang element. This is to say, while we grew up, the family's roof had been pillared by our mother, not father. I wonder if my father's soft personality has to do with his ancient heritage.

Next time I'll tell you the fascinating story of my father's ancestry, one that he himself might not be aware of. 

New Photos of Covered Bridges in Taishun

A reader, Steve, recently left a comment under my post Dream Left on Covered Bridges 廊桥遗梦:

I spent a week in Taishun County during the Chinese New Year. You can see my photo's here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/byrnzie28/sets/72157623306936489/

Those are beautiful photos! Go take a look.

Han Han and Time's 100 Competition

Best on-line fun of the month: watching Han Han's climbing rank in Time's list of the "100 most influential people in the world" nominees. When I first noticed it, Han Han was 12^th; two days ago he was 7^th; today 5^th.

Meanwhile in China, the People’s Daily website, people.com.cn, reported this news with the headline "Han Han Included in World’s Influential People: Time Magazine Deeply Nearsighted?" In addition to the negative angle shown in the headline, the site holds two "small polls" (I've included the results so far):

1. "Do you like Han Han? Why?"

Like him because of his blog and books (64%)

Like him because of his intelligent and seasoned personality (13.4%)
Like him because of his unusual personal experience and appearance (4.6%)
Don't like this person (14.6%)

Can’t say clearly (3.3%)

2. "Do you think Han Han can represent China?"

Absolutely can't represent (34.4%)
Can only partially represent (58.8%)
Unclear (6.8%)

While the first question is sort of interesting, the second is a complete hack. First of all, Time's competition is not for the "most representative" people of a country. Second, the poll asks a positive question, then positions the most negative answer at the top. Further, such muddling of the issue of "representing a country" shows an inability to distinguish the identity of a person from that of a country; apparently the communist tradition of mixing the two still occupies some minds.  

Also strange is that, since the poll includes the extreme option "absolutely can't," shouldn’t it also include the other extreme "absolutely can" for completeness and symmetry? Plus, the word "only" in "Can only partially represent" is redundant unless its intention is to emphasize the negative biases against Han Han. If a poll is set to be biased, is it really a poll?

All that said, I'm not completely sure such negativity was the editors' true intention. It could also be a strategy. As far as I can see, since this report from people.com, Han Han's votes on Time.com have increased rapidly. The poll results on people.com also show that public opinion strongly opposes the editors' negative diction. So the question boils down to whether the editors there are smarter or stupider than we think: It is certainly a clever thing to do if they made the report and polls appear negative in order to pass censoring, while expecting the public to react differently. Otherwise, the unintended results have made fools of them.

Another article I found entertaining: "Han Han is hardly a hero of our times" from ShanghaiDaily.com (h/t ESWN). I thought the aim of a commentary should be to convince. Failing that, at least one should avoid contradicting oneself, right? Now hear this: "It strikes me as naive that being critical of the Chinese government should be the major, if not sole, criterion for making Time’s list..." Didn’t he see the Chinese government officials Bo Xilai and Wang Qishan on the same list? What is “the major, if not sole criterion” for them to make the list then?

While I do view Han Han as "a hero of our times," such a view is subjective and not a basis for meaningful argument. The commentary’s author, however, confuses the more measurable concept of "influential" with the largely subjective notion of "heroic,"  and his criticism of Time's "wrong" choice might have stemmed from another typical communist principle of "one standard for all." Well, Time is not a communist magazine that takes setting heroic examples as its mandate; as such applying a "hero" selection standard to its influential people list is like "donkey lips not matching horse jaws," as we Chinese like to say. "Influential" is not a moral term. There is nothing in the definition of "influential" that excludes a person whose influence is viewed as "good" by some and "bad" by others. The fact that Time's list has Chinese government officials Bo and Wang sharing space with Han Han (who's critical of the government) and an imprisoned dissident, Liu Xiaobo, certainly illustrates this point.

It is even more aimless for the author to suggest that Time replace Han Han with "Tang Fuzhen, a 47-year-old in Chengdu who died after setting herself on fire in November of last year to protest the forcible demolition of her home.” I wonder, if Time did include Tang in the list, how many votes she would get, given how few people know her name? And if she did not get many votes, wouldn't the ShanghaiDaily author become even more outraged with Time?

I must say that I'm not a big fan of Time, and I usually don't care about its 100 competitions. My main point here is that a journalist who opposes something should have a clear aim, and at least some knowledge of the target before shooting his bullets.  I guess being honest is the most essential quality for a journalist. Without it, one's words can easily become a laughing stock.

Personally, I'm very happy to see the ever rising votes for Han Han. For one thing, and an important one at that, based on my reading Han Han is a way more honest person and definitely a way better writer than most Chinese journalists. Not only is he bravely candid and sharp, he also makes sense, and has good humor. And he cares. He cares about social justice. Reading his blog posts often makes me feel 痛快 (to be honest I don't know how to translate this expression precisely and satisfactorily), a nice feeling I don't often have reading the writing of others.

As to why Liu Xiaobo's votes lag behind Han Han's, again it has to do with the extent of influence. Liu Xiaobo may be a deeper thinker, but for various reasons his influence has not spread to ordinary people of different ages and classes as extensively as Han Han’s. While Lui Xiaobo may be a hero to intellectuals, Han Han is a hero to ordinary people. And to say Han Han is one of the most influential people is no exaggeration. Really amazing, considering that he is only 27 years old, without even a high school diploma.

"They Produce Lies, We Pretend to Believe"

— New Weekly's interview with Wu Si

(Note: The governmental behavior described by Wu Si in this interview seems quite universal. Communism not required.  I think Wu Si has many good insights, though his confidence in democracy seems too high. There's no shortage of lies in America, for instance. — Xujun)

[in translation]

Wu Si has been the executive editor, co-director and chief editor of the Yanhuang Chunqiu magazine. His books, Hidden Rules: the Real Game in Chinese History,  and Blood Remuneration Law: The Survival Game in Chinese History, have widespread influence. He is dubbed "father of the hidden-rule concept." (Interviewer: Hu Jiujiu)

There Is a State System that Makes It Easy to Produce Lies

New Weekly: Lao Tzu said, "With the emergence of intelligence, come big falsehoods." I wonder if it's alright to understand "falsehoods" here as "lies"?

Wu Si: Yes. Either "hypocrites," or "lies," alright.

New Weekly:  This is a question of historical view: what history is true?

Wu Si: The fact is, there is a kind of state system that makes it extremely easy to produce lies, manufacture lies, under which lying becomes legitimate and cost-effective. Look at this system in our history: an emperor, a bunch of bureaucrats under him, facing a country of peasants, peasants with no open information channels. To the person who fights for state power, who rules the country, whether Qin Shihuang, Zhu Yuanzhang, or Liu Bang, the problem he must solve is how to rule the country. The highest ruler has two options: one is using naked violence, compulsion; another is using persuasive power, benevolent governance. The two options also have to be kept in proportion. Ruling by violence alone is fragile, and will not last, or in other words, the long-term gains are not looking good. Thus the partial adaptation of Confucian ways, to convince you, exhort you, let you approve by heart.

New Weekly: Then this becomes a set of lies by the ruler.

Wu Si: This is a set of theories. If the ruler truly follows the theory, then it is not a lie, or at least the proportion of lying is low. If he does not follow the theory, we can say it is a lie.

So, will he follow the theory? He definitely won't, or not completely. On one hand he requires you to follow, on the other hand he himself does not completely follow. For example, "the sovereign be benevolent, the subjects be loyal," "the father be kind, the son be filial," "the husband be righteous, the wife be obedient." My duties are the rights for you to enjoy, and your duties are the rights for me to enjoy. We complement each other.  Even if your rights are bigger than mine, my duties are more than yours, since you are the sovereign and I'm the subject, your responsibility is also bigger. I can accept that. This is the Confucian "three cardinal guides and five constant virtues," and it sounds acceptable.

In reality however, the more powerful side does not want to be restrained, has difficulty obeying, is very easily corrupted, and often is neither benevolent nor kind. Benevolent rulers are rare in history; the proportion is very low. But, lack of benevolence does not permit disloyalty. Therefore [the ruler] can’t rely too heavily on reasoning.  He needs to mix the kingly way with Taoism, Confucian outside Legalist inside. On the outside he is Confucian, talking soundly, persuasive, fastidious about standards in all aspects. What actually happens is that he lets you follow the rules, he doesn't. Further, he doesn’t let you know he’s not benevolent, instead he publicizes his benevolence. If anyone dares to object, no more words, simply destroy him. The ruler carries penal laws and raw power.

Looking at such a state system, persuasive power is very important. It can lower ruling costs, and increase ruling gains. It can form inner constraints in people as the ruled. Not only that, it can bring to the whole system a sacred, magnificent sense.   This persuasive power is so important, naturally it can't be given up.

In particular, how are cost and benefit calculated? The benefit is to have the subjects and people willingly follow rules and norms. The cost is that the ruler himself has to follow the rules, setting an example. Benevolent governing has big benefits, ruling by persuasion, by simply moving lips to make peace in half of the world, such benefits one should completely receive. But the cost of setting an example is very high, one shouldn't pay fully, but should make it look like full payment, even over payment, meanwhile the truth can't be exposed. So the cost of setting an example is transformed into secretly tidying up a few people, sealing the throats of opponents. As to those who lick the ruler's boots, no shortage of them, they come automatically without being called. Under such a state system lying has a high benefit and a low cost. Starting from the top, large scale lying is inevitably going to happen. 

Formation of a Lying Community

New Weekly: The first biggest lie is "the sovereign's authority is bestowed by God." All lies under that come from this root.

Wu Si: That's right. The line "the sovereign's authority is bestowed by God" itself contains a lie. But the lie is a conditional one. It does not mean that God bestows you the power once and for all. The orthodox expression is that God's will falls on a person of virtue. Not everyone can be "God's son." You have the virtues, you get God's will. You don't have the virtues, God's will can change, revolution can happen. So you must pretend to have the virtues. God sees you through your people's eyes, so you must lie to all your people, to display your virtues. Then you'll get God's will; those who covet the power will give up. Where interest lies, where the ultimate trend goes, this decides that the state system inevitably makes lies.

New Weekly: Finally, lies in China form a lying community; from top to bottom everyone has unspeakable secrets. Sometimes, lies are not for hurting others but for protecting oneself.

Wu Si: Don't talk freely. Don't leave evidence that can be turned against you.

New Weekly: We've published an article by Wu Xiaobo titled "Qian Xuesen, Your Greatness Is Short of One Apology". It says the father of [China's] nuclear bomb once wrote an article on the science of how yield-per-mu can "launch a satellite."[1]  Looking back from now, does that count as a lie?

Wu Si: He and Mao Zedong had a more particular conversation. Mao Zedong said, I've read your article. Qian Xuesen said, I wrote that one casually. One datum has yet to be calculated accurately. Mao Zedong immediately said, Ah, you are talking recklessly too. When Mao discussed this with him, he made it slightly ambiguous, taking a step back. Even if he calculated accurately, it may not be a lie theoretically, it still has the room for making a lie: possibility in theory is not equal to possibility in realization using available technology. Anyway, his calculation, that the yield-per-mu could be as high as the solar energy transfer rate dictates, indeed had real impact on Mao Zedong.

Later someone asked Mao, you were born to a peasant family, don’t you know how much one mu could yield? Mao said, I read Qian Xuesen's article, the scientist said so.  — At least Qian played a role of adding fuel to the flames. Thus he indeed owed a great apology. Not great, he owed a proper apology.

New Weekly: Among intellectuals, lets say we can divide them to several kinds, for example one kind are of humanities and social sciences, another kind are of natural sciences and technology, the third are bureaucrat intellectuals. Among the three kinds, which one do you think will most easily produce lies?

Wu Si: Government intellectuals for sure.

New Weekly: His daily needs.

Wu Si: Yes, it is necessary for ruling, but we should also look at particular times. For example, in the Mao era, especially pre-1953, the government intellectuals' subjective feeling was that they had truth in their hand, not lies. They confidently carried out reform on others. At the time intellectuals at large were the subject of reform, many hid their true thoughts and said things against their own will. What is truth, what are lies, the subjective standard is in favor of the government. After the Great Leap Forward, lies were burst, with extremely serious consequences, even by the subjective standard, government intellectuals became the main producer of lies. But intellectuals at large then didn't dare to talk much, the pressure after the anti-rightist movement was too high, so they produced lies in a differently way – by faking belief.

Lying and Split Personality

New Weekly: Ba Jin wrote the book of essays Vagrant Thoughts, claiming to speak the truth, what do you think of it?

Wu Si:  Ba Jin spoke a bit of truth. In a private conversation – I forgot where I read it – he said, I just spoke that little bit of truth, didn't dare to speak the complete truth. According to him, if the measure was a bit wider, if he said a bit more, then it would not be able to get published. Speaking truth is a measurement issue. All truth, three out of ten, or one out of ten?  He could speak five or six out of ten, it's already very good, it's progress compared to one or two out of ten. Not lying is progress.

New Weekly: Why does the state system that easily produces lies last so long in China?

Wu Si: It has low cost, high benefit. The core of the state system are the rulers, to them this is a natural strategy. The lies are nothing but statements of how the ruling system conforms to the public will. If the system changed to one with elections by popular will, becoming a negotiation between the public and public servants, then the system would be a trading system, the elected naturally conform with the popular will, there's no need to make lies. Further, in such a trading system, all sides watch to see if you follow the contract. Hence the system is one that destroys lies. If you violate the contract, if you lie, it generally results in bigger loss than gain.

New Weekly:  Living in a state system of lies, I can even feel a split personality in myself.

Wu Si: A split personality might be like this: you must say something you don't agree with, you know very well you are lying, still you have to say it. In so doing, you must deal with the issue of lying, to rationalize it, to find a spirit strategy. This is easy to split. But there is another state: though being demanded to lie, I don't lie. I only speak truth. When it gets to the point that I can't speak truth, I stop talking. This way avoids splits. I reach whatever point I can, then stop moving.

New Weekly:  What's your personal attitude toward speaking truth? To try your best to not lie, or lie occasionally, or what?

Wu Si: We have to limit this in politics. On domestic politics, I only speak truth. If I can't speak truth, I don't lie. If you are talking about daily life stuff, for example when [your parents] asking whether you are getting better from illness, even if you are still sick, you don't want to make your parents worry, you just say yes. Such so-called white lies are unavoidable.

---

[1] Qian Xuesen (1911-2009), a leading Chinese physicist in the 20^th century, published an article in 1958 in People's Daily claiming that scientific calculation shows crops yield can increase more than tenfold. That article is now viewed by some as a significant contribution to the calamity of the Great Leap Forward. — Xujun

Standing Water: "Not the Town’s Problem"

It was sunny while I was in Scotland in mid March. Everyone said it always rained in Edinburgh, but not on me. Only when Bob phoned from home that I heard about rain, and lots of it. He was in the basement of our house, pumping out water everyday.

Now it is April 1st, and the water is there again, and more. We are not alone, we have lots of neighbors with flooded basements and flooded yards, roads are closed, dams have burst. Even our tax filing deadline has been extended because of the flood. We just keep pumping and getting soaked.

Yesterday, the skies opened and it was possible to go outside. In our yard, the standing water formed little lakes (see photo below, taken today). Bob tried to figure out where it spread to. Hopping on his bike, he took a ride to the street corner across from our yard. There he found a little stream running down a road, through a culvert, and into a forest. Following the road, it became clear where the stream wanted to go: a massive wetland on the other side of Rt. 30. But the highway blocked that and the water had no place to go. So the water spills up onto the road and also back to our yard, all the way to our basement.

I finally called our town's Conservation Department yesterday, hoping they would know about streams and, in our case, unwanted little lakes. This was the first time I've ever called the town for help during our 12 years living here. The nice lady there couldn't really understand my question, but she called back in the afternoon, directing us to the Highway Department.

So, here's a rough rendition of Bob's conversation with the Highway Department this morning:

Bob: "There is a stream that runs through a culvert then hits route 30, thus the water on the road. It looks like the highway is blocking the water flow. Could you do something about it?"

Highway Department: "No. The water runs into a retaining area and that is overflowing."

Bob: “Isn’t there a culvert under Route 30?”

Highway Department: “No.”

Bob: "Shouldn’t there be?"

Highway Department: "Not the town’s problem."

Bob: “So who is responsible?”

Highway Department: “Nobody, it is what it is.”

Bob: “Would it be possible to pump the water across the highway?”

Highway Department: “Absolutely Not.”

I would not be surprised if I heard a bureaucrat talking like this in China. But this is Massachusetts, USA. I guess my two countries have more in common than I think.

Update:  Apparently Obama was in our neighborhood today for the flood. 

One China, Two Chinas, Many?

On Tuesday afternoon, Bob and I went to BU's Pardee Center for a well-attended event titled "Shifting Patterns of Dissent and Repression in a Changing China," sponsored by the Asian Studies Initiative at BU.  Jeff Wasserstrom (UC Irvine) and Yang Jianli (Carr Center for Human Rights) gave interesting – and different – perspectives on the topic.

Jeff Wasserstrom's talk was derived from his new book China in the 21st Century: What Everyone Needs to Know. He points out several misconceptions that Western people commonly hold about China, one of which is to view Chinese people as divided into dissidents and loyalists, whereas in fact there is a whole spectrum of political positions staked out these days. He views this as a very different reality from either the time of the May 4^th movement in 1919 or the June 4^th movement in 1989; in both of those times, Chinese people's political stances were more united than now.

As a historian, who wrote his PhD thesis on Chinese student movements in the early 20^th century, Wasserstrom provides a more historical perspective on China than most. He was finishing his thesis just as the 1989 Tiananmen protests were erupting, so has a good angle to think about that movement. He points out that one of the things the Chinese government has learned from the June 4^th event is to be more pragmatic. Recognizing that there are numerous mass protests in China every year, the government brushes most aside as unimportant. It is only when activities are not of short duration or not geographically and socially localized that the central government takes action against them. This is a political change, contrary to some people's view that China has only changed economically.

I largely agree with the views Wasserstrom presented. I categorize myself, for example, in neither the dissident nor the loyalist camp. I'd like to remain an independent thinker for the rest of my life, which is a rather difficult position these days. I've lost some American writer friends because I refused to call the Beijing Olympics "genocide Olympics."  And I don't necessarily fare better with Chinese readers of my blog either. Though most Chinese are not at the extremes of the spectrum, it seems that those who are, are most active and outspoken. Apparently my blog does not please readers who take certain strong positions – the left are unhappy with my often critical attitude toward the government as well as my refusal to let go of the memory of, and lessons from, the past, while the right are unsatisfied that I do not talk as radical as dissidents do and that I advocate political reform rather than revolution. No matter. An independent thinker I will continue to be. Just as there are reasons for the left and right to exist, there is also a reason for someone like me to exist somewhere in the middle of the spectrum. :-)

I'm always happy to hear Western thinkers and writers, such as James Fallows, Jeff Wasserstrom, and Peter Hessler, emphasize the concept of variety when it comes to China and Chinese people. The point that there is a spectrum of attitudes and actions within China is right on the money. With over one billion people you would expect to find almost every imaginable attitude present. Yet surprisingly many Westerners do not perceive this way. Even Yang Jianli wanted to talk about "two Chinas": the elites and the "shitizens" as he calls them. As a writer, I do like the colorful term, but compared to Wasserstrom's more realistic perspective, Yang's two-dimensional classification seems way too simplified to give much insight. One China, two Chinas, many Chinas. I would have to go with the last.

Of course, Yang Jianli is a dissident, as he declared himself right at the beginning of his talk, and he does have more than ample cause to bear ill will toward those that imprisoned him. He was certainly right about one thing. In responding to Wasserstrom's observation that nowadays an individual could stand on Tiananmen Square and curse corrupted officials without being put into jail, Yang Jianli argued that you might or might not be arrested, but you are never sure. This is certainly true. I, for example, when researching on the Cultural Revolution during my China visits, have always worried whether I would get into trouble. I never have, but that did not eradicate my worries.  Yang was also right that, because the political changes are not systematic, there is always a danger that the bad old ways might make a comeback.  I expressed the same concern in a post titled "What Kind of Country is China Today?" last year.

However, I don't see that Wasserstrom's observation necessarily contradicts Yang's. China has changed not only economically but also politically from the time I lived there, yet China has a much longer way to go in its political reform. Whether the Chinese government's current programmatic approach will lead to a more systematic change remains the important question.

What Do You Know about Edinburgh?

I'll be heading to Edinburgh for a writing conference titled "China Inside Out." (I know, the resemblance between the conference's title and my blog's is curious, but I believe this is just a coincidence, with a slight possibility that they copied me. :))

The Chinese name for Edinburgh, 爱丁堡, always rouses the picture of an ancient castle, European style.  I've never been in Edinburgh before and I'm excited for this opportunity, not the least because "in October 2004 Edinburgh became the very first UNESCO City of Literature."

The conference, held in the University of Edinburgh from March 11-13, is "a celebration of Chinese Women Writers in English." Participants include:

• Writer and academic: Professor Shu-mei Shih, Dr Judith Misrahi Barack, Dr Margaret Hillenbrand
• Poet and fiction writer: Wang Ping
• Fiction writers: Xujun Eberlein, Liu Hong, Chiew-Siah Tei,
• Critics: Professor LuMing Mao. Dr Amy Lai
• Scottish writers: Lesley Glaister, Dilys Rose, A C Clarke, Dr Bashabi Fraser
• Convenor of the Women's Committee of Scottish PEN: Faith Pullin
• President of Scottish PEN and writer: Jenni Calder 

China 2013: A Quick Review

The Prosperous Time: China 2013, by Chen Guanzhong, Oxford University Press (China), HK$70.00.

In a country where social science fiction is currently rare, this neo-Orwellian novel by a Hong Kong author who has lived in Beijing for a decade is quite phenomenal. Set in 2013's Beijing, the story follows Mr. Chen, a writer whose life experience and surname resemble that of the author, as he attempts to track down and pursue the frequently disappearing love of his life, a marginalized woman named Xiaoxi who distrusts the government and whose son is a Party informant. Meanwhile, Chen's old acquaintance, Fang Chaodi, a man in his mid-60s with a complex background, involves Xiaoxi in a different kind of search – for a lost month from the spring of 2011. Both efforts are unpopular and run into political and social obstacles. Suspicious of the government's foul play, Fang, Xiaoxi and another friend eventually kidnap a Party politburo member for questioning. In the novel's final revelations, we learn that there have been 28 bloody days preceding China's prosperous time. However, though the Chinese government has in fact done tricks to successfully create prosperity at a time of world doom, the populace's selective memory loss is not due to one such trick.

What sets the novel apart is its attempt at maintaining an Orwellian perspective against the one-party autocracy while bringing the setting up-to-date: the dark gruesome milieu in Orwell's 1984 is replaced with a jubilant celebratory mood. This proves to be both an accomplishment and a challenge for the plot. The storyline hangs together well for most of the book, but falls short in the end. It seems as if the author had set out to tackle the paradox of why an authoritarian government should be advocated by the majority of people, but ends up being persuaded by his own antagonist of the regime's legitimacy. Part of this weakness might have been caused by missed opportunities in the plot, for which I will attempt a more detailed analysis in a formal review. Despite this neo-Orwellian novel's unintended counter-Orwellian ending, it nonetheless leaves the reader troubled by the possibility of widespread public support for a non-democratic regime and thus the failure of democracy's universal value.

Update: related link - "The Return of Politically Charged Science Fiction in China" (Foreign Policy)