Friday, June 24, 2011

My Block Booking for a Red Movie in Shanghai

by Maple, guest blogger

[Note:  July 1st this year marks the 90th birthday of China's Communist Party. To celebrate it, "red" movies and TV shows are sweeping the country, to the extent that popular spy shows are banned May through July. The biggest film made especially for this occasion is "The Great Cause of Founding the Party" (《建党伟业》), which, in the China-made English ad, is translated as "Beginning of the Great Revival." Its release day was June 15th.  Here is the experience of an ordinary moviegoer on June 17th. -- Xujun]

[in translation, 中文原文附后]

(Shanghai, June 17) I went to a movie theater this afternoon, to give myself a break after a week of intense painting. A French movie festival was ongoing, but I would have to wait until evening to see it. The 3D "Kung Fu Panda" was on, but that kind of fad is for teens with high-tech addictions and would only daze me.  

Coincidentally, the movie "The Great Cause of Founding the Party" (《建党伟业》) was about to start in 5 minutes. I bought the ticket, as if guided by a deity. Entering the screening room, I was stared at by the theater staff. They were whispering about me -- did they suspect my head was crushed by the door?

It turned out that,  in the whole screening room, with more than 400 seats, I was the only audience member, the only person who voluntarily dug into my own wallet to receive the "red" education.


To be fair, the movie is well made. The plot is tight, some details are moving, and the actors are high quality.  But to put more than a hundred of the most famous stars into one movie, that seems like a practical joke.

Last time when "The Great Cause of Founding the Country" (《建国大业》) was made [in a similar fashion], many people went to theaters driven by the urge to "identify famous faces." From the beginning to the end, every time a face appeared on the screen, the hundreds of audience would roar in one voice: "Tang Guoqiang!" "Liu Yiwei!" "Liu Dehua!"  For two hours, all were engaged in identifying, shouting, and guessing; identifying, shouting, and guessing. No one knew what the movie was about.  To call it "great education for all people" is not as precise as "great entertainment for all people."  Perhaps this was the leaders' real goal after all? Educating by entertaining?

Now once again the great entertainment comes, but the masses are tired, they don't want to play anymore. They have left me alone doing the identification and guessing. I still don't understand why Zhao Benshan (赵本山) would wordlessly stand in Yuan Shikai's (袁世凯) shadow, with an expression half laughing half crying, and why Liu Yunlong (柳云龙), an actor I admire, would be half hiding in the left lower corner like a shadow. This was too distracting! I identified this face and then that, couldn't hear at all what Zhou Runfa (周润发) was saying. What was the director's motive? I couldn't enjoy the movie itself, I was only thinking: Why is Wang Xuebing (王学兵) so haggard? Who is playing Xiaofengxian (小凤仙), so beautiful?
      
The most far-off thing was that all the scenes of Tang Wei (汤唯) were removed. She was acting Mao Zedong's first love (not Yang Kaihui), but because she had been all nude in "Lust, Caution," someone thought she would tarnish the great man's image.  Yet Liu Ye (刘烨), the man who plays Mao himself, had starred in the most well-known homosexual film "Lan Yu" (《蓝宇》), with many shots of him all-nude in bed. If the same logic were used, wouldn't he tarnish Mao's image more directly? If we were back in the Cultural Revolution, the director would certainly be executed twice.

My only consolation is that, as a big screen lover, I enjoyed 135 minutes of exclusive block booking of the theater all by myself. I sat there straight to the last minute, until all names of the actors, workers, and musicians ascended beyond the screen.

For a moviegoer like me who's sick beyond cure, the staff member at the door was very sad. He slowly shook his head, like an owl.

(Continue to read the Chinese text / 继续阅读中文原文)

Saturday, June 11, 2011

Li Zhuang Returns Home; Fang Hong's Family Disappeared

After serving one and a half years in a Chongqing prison, former lawyer Li Zhuang returned home to Beijing earlier today.  His son, Li Yatong, posted on his micro-blog a photo of the family sitting in the airplane. I'm always happy to see a family reunion.

A little more than a month ago, Chongqing police had tried, but failed, to extend Li Zhuang's sentence with new charges. (For those of you who are not familiar with Li Zhuang's case, search keyword "Li Zhuang" on my blog and you'll find detailed posts, such as this one, following the trial last year.)

Li Yatong (middle), now in his third year of law school, has been firmly supportive of his father through the whole ordeal. His blog post "宣判" ("sentencing") was widely circulated on the Chinese internet last year.

While Li Zhuang is finally home, a Chongqing citizen, Fang Hong, was sent to labor reform for mocking Bo Xilai's handling of Li Zhuang. Fang also has a supportive and filial son, Fang Di, who hired a renowned lawyer, Yuan Yulai, for his father.  Yuan Yulai is reputed to be most interested in cases of "citizens suing officials." A couple of days ago Yuan wrote on his micro-blog that Fang Di and other family members have disappeared after being summoned by police to talk.

Fang Hong's arrest shocked me more than Li Zhuang's trial, for even the appearance of legal procedure is abandoned. It is a stark naked case of "speech crime." If I had had any illusions about Bo Xilai before, like the first time when I saw his handling of Chongqing's taxi strike in 2008, Fang Hong's arrest was the last straw to convince me Bo is a ruthless politician believing in Mao style iron-handed rule, and a political gambler who stakes all on a single throw.  I just don't know, 35 years after the Cultural Revolution ended, how far Bo can go in today's China.

Saturday, May 21, 2011

Chongqing Impression

Some readers of my earlier post "Chongqing Nostalgia. Where Is It?" asked for more stories about Chongqing.  Here are two detailed pieces I wrote that appeared elsewhere last week:

Chongqing Dispatch - China Beat
Gingko Fever in Chongqing  - Atlantic / Fallows

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Kissinger Encloses Many Sides of Mao – A Review of On China

On China by Henry Kissinger, Penguin Press, hardcover, 586 pages, $36

Reviewed by Bob Eberlein

“God has sent me an invitation, yet he [Kissinger] says, don’t go.”

So Mao Zedong reflects on the passing of his soul in a conversation with Gerald Ford and Henry Kissinger in 1975. There is a chance that I have seen this quote before. If so, it passed me by. With limited knowledge of China and Mao at the time, I would not have understood the overwhelming irony embodied in the conversation.

Reading it afresh in Henry Kissinger’s new book On China - released today - I laughed and laughed. The conversation follows the riveting story of the opening of diplomatic relations between the US and China that was spearheaded by Kissinger. Though I knew how the story would end, I still found myself reading with great anticipation, for in this part of the book Kissinger has really managed to bring us into the moment, to show us things as he saw them then. And he certainly did not know what was going to happen next.

Friday, May 13, 2011

White or Red: Bo Xilai's Quandary

While in Chongqing last month, I heard this story:

Bo Xilai was puzzled why Taiwan businesses shy away from Chongqing, despite the fact he has "aggressively provided preferential policies to attract investment." The Taiwanese are around and nearby -- they have made the Sichuan province their most popular destination in western China – but they avoid Chongqing. Bo asked the question in a meeting, and he was told, well, it is the "Refuse Pit Prison."

Thursday, May 5, 2011

A Poll on How to View Chongqing's 'Sing Red Songs' Campaign

If a public poll from Chinese media means anything, here is one on the website of China's International Herald Leader titled "How to View Chongqing's 'Sing Red Songs' Upsurge." The questions and votes (as of this writing) are translated below:

  1. Is it still meaningful to ardently sing red songs in our new era? 
  • Yes, the spirit they represent is still worth promoting (39.02%) 
  • Yes, they are excellent musical works (6.13%) 
  • No, the background of the songs' time no longer exists (40.1%)  
  • No, most singers can't understand their connotation (11.04%)  
  • No, revised too much (1.54%)  
  • Don't know (2.2%)
    1. Can red songs arouse the lost belief?
    • Yes (17.13%)
    • No (55.89%)
    • At least some positive effect (24.81%)
    • Not sure (2.19%)

    Monday, May 2, 2011

    The Ambivalent Role of China's Middle Class -- A Book Review

    The Chinese Dream: The Rise of the World’s Largest Middle Class and What It Means to You by Helen H. Wang, Bestseller Press, $16.97 paperback, $9.99 Kindle edition

    "What do you think 'middle class' means in China?"  I raised this question to Chinese friends during my trip to Chongqing in April.  I was after a spontaneous answer.  From what I heard, the consensus seems that if you own a house and a car, you are in middle class.  An art professor, who owns neither, said that by classical definition a professional is middle class, but in today's China he is no longer sure if he is middle class despite the fact he is a professional.

    Tuesday, April 26, 2011

    Chongqing Nostalgia. Where Is It?

    I took the following photos earlier this month during my visit to Chongqing, where I could find few traces of anything familiar from my childhood.

    The Liberation Monument (解放碑)
    The Liberation Monument (解放碑)– Yes, that piteous little thing in the center – the Liberation Monument used to be the great landmark of Chongqing.  Is the towering building on the left purposely trying to mock and humiliate it?


    Flat Bread (烧饼)
    Flat Bread (烧饼) – Oh my childhood favorite snack! Street vendors of flat bread used to be seen in every block of downtown Chongqing . Now walking through the entire Central District I found only one, hiding in a corner of Eighteen Steps (十八梯). The couple who were making flat bread at first panicked seeing me taking photos; they thought I was a "cheng-guan" (城管) who came to seize their little business.


    Controversial Nude Sculpture
    Controversial Nude Sculpture – On Chongqing's first Yangtze Bridge, the four nude sculptures, "Spring," "Summer," "Autumn" and "Winter" sparked a big controversy that embroiled the entire city, even the country, in the early 1980s (I participated in the debate).  The artists eventually yielded to public pressure and added a sheer veil for each figure.  The one in this photo is "Spring." (It apparently has been moved because the bridge's width is now doubled.)



    The Obsoleted Ferry – In this photo, where a new bridge for light rail is being built, there used to be a ferry dock that I frequented as a child.  My home was on the south bank of the Yangtze looking down those rocks, my childhood haunts.  When I left China in 1988, there was only one bridge on each of the two rivers, Yangtze and Jialing, that surround the city, and ferries were the main connection between the three land areas (The South Bank, River North, and Central District).  Now the total number of bridges exceeds twenty, and all ferries have become obsolete.

    Saturday, April 23, 2011

    Prosecutors Drop Charges against Li Zhuang

    (I'm back from China now. So good to be able to access my blog again! This is a quick post about new developments in the Li Zhuang case.  Li Zhuang was the Beijing lawyer who tried to defend a "gangster" in Chongqing and was jailed himself last year. )

    In English:
    In Chinese:
    For more background information, here are my posts following the case last year:

    Thursday, April 7, 2011

    Lunch with Chinese Friends in Chongqing

    by Bob Eberlein

    (posted via proxy)

    This week I had the opportunity to sit down to lunch in Chongqing with my wife and several of her acquaintances. While my ability to understand Chinese, and even the Sichuan dialect, is pretty good for day-to-day things, my vocabulary is limited, so whenever topics stray too far from the necessities of life, my ability to follow becomes more limited.

    Chongqing at Night  (photo by Bob Eberlein)
    The lunch topic I was most keen to see discussed  was Bo Xilai, Chongqing’s Party boss who, from crackdowns on criminal gangs to the widespread promotion of Red Songs, is having a big impact on the landscape of Chongqing. My interest was as much in watching the talk; body language reveals a lot and I was wondering both how forthcoming and how energetic her friends would be in discussion. There were two businessmen, who had ridden high on the wave of China’s development, along with an academic. All were living pretty decent lives in modern China.

    Reticence, I have to say, was completely lacking. In fact, when the discussion turned to censorship and the freedom people have to speak out in China the attitude was basically that they could say anything they wanted. I am skeptical that this is true, and I learned long ago that, even in America, simple courtesy, along with the desire for continued gainful employment, don’t allow me to constantly say exactly what is on my mind. Still, their attitudes were genuine. They were thinking about speaking privately among friends, not looking for a public platform to express their opinions, and unencumbered speech is pretty believable in that context.

    Actually, the whole topic of free speech engendered a great deal of discussion. A lot of time was spent with one person saying, and another agreeing, that China had made great progress in this regard. Discussion of progress in one area led to discussion of progress in another area and again there was agreement progress had been made. No one contested any of the statements about progress, but lots of time was still spent on the topic. There is a feeling among Chinese that foreigners do not recognize that things have changed. I can understand this, and it may actually be a true perception of some foreigners, but it is odd so much time was spent there. 

    But what did they think of Bo Xilai? For me, the nature of the answers given was the most telling. He controlled the unchecked migration from rural to urban Chongqing, imposing an order that has been helpul. His crackdown on criminals has made Chongqing safer. The Red Songs are just like advertising and mean nothing (even if they are silly). Mostly they seemed very positive about what Bo Xilai had done, though I was a bit out of my depth trying to understand, so nuances of how he might have done things better likely passed me by. They looked at the decisions to be made as complicated, and (here I am guessing) admired the man for being able to make hard choices. 

    Xujun kept pressing on the inherent weakness of the system, and they kept pushing back. As I listened I was hearing about what I would call policies, when Xujun wanted to talk about Bo Xilai and his politics. Xujun translated the response she kept getting as the problems are technical, not systemic. Afterward, when Xujun told her sister they had named the problems as "technical," her sister responded “What does that mean?” Indeed that was the question I had, because the discussion was not about technical issues at all, but rather choices that had been and needed to be made about urbanization and related issues. (Given that we were in Chongqing, China’s fastest developing metropolis, and we were talking to people working in construction-related businesses, urbanization absolutely made sense as the area of biggest concern). 

    As far as the future is concerned, one of the topics of conversation that came up was whether the Cultural Revolution could repeat itself, whether there could be another Mao era. It has been a long time since I have heard Mao Zedong’s name spoken so many times in such a short period. Everyone, except Xujun, was pretty adamant that this could not happen (I am also agnostic on this, though I was not adding my opinions). Why? Here I got a little lost but I believe the argument is basically that people have too much to lose, not something they perceived the last time around. A good point, and not one that is lost on me, but it does not dispel my fundamental belief that people can take almost anything for granted and once this happens they no longer perceive it as something they can lose. But I digress.

    Later that day, at dinner, Bo Xilai again came up in conversation with another friend. Xujun’s sister asked if it was okay to talk about him and our host hushed her and said of course. I had to laugh at this, fortunately that went unnoticed. More good words, combined with significantly more reticence. He even gave Bo Xilai credit for getting freight to run by rail from Chongqing to Europe. A cool accomplishment, but I am not sure whose credit that really would be. 

    As I ponder this I think that the Chinese we were talking to do not believe there is any inherently right approach to either governance or economic policy. Be it Capital or The Wealth of Nations, they simply don’t believe. Absent such a framework there is only experience to build on. It is an empirical approach to governance: “If it aint broke, don’t fix it.” This is common in business, but perhaps antithetical to the percepts of the Founding Fathers of America. This might be the source of the disconnect they see between their reality and American criticism. 

    In any case, if they perceive that the problems are not systemic, but technical, then any advice offered by others damned well better be practical!

    Monday, March 21, 2011

    Glass Magazine Interviews Writers

    Glass, a handsome quarterly published in UK, interviews several international writers in their spring issue.  In an article titled "Women Hold Up Half the Sky," the journalist, Samantha Kuok Leese, says about my writing:
    Contemporary author Xujun Eberlein is a native of Chongqing, one of China's major south-western cities, who moved to the United States in 1988. Her first book, Apologies Forthcoming, won the 2007 Tartts Fiction Award and established her as one of the most refreshing new voices in Chinese women's writing.
                The collection of eight stories is a moving remembrance of the Cultural Revolution at an individual level, through which Eberlein gives voices to a variety of characters in a range of times and settings. The book's subtitle is pointedly Stories not about Mao. (Note: this refers to the Hong Kong edition – Xujun) Her time outside China encouraged her to present the historical calamity of the Cultural Revolution in small but deeply absorbing episodes.
                "Having lived in two countries of political opposites, I am no longer easily excited by “-ist” labels, be it Communist, capitalist, imperialist, or terrorist. I have learned there are people’s faces behind all those “-ists,” with human commonalities and differences, human weaknesses and biases.  I've seen similarities in national and international politics and propaganda, and the information disparity that exists on both sides of the earth. 
    "It is easy for people in each country to see the other in a rather abstract and presumptive manner, instead of as fully fleshed fellow human beings.  My intention was thus to return to the basics of human nature, to portray the characters as realistically human as I could."
    There's more about my writing in the article, which also talks about another writer I admire, Xu Xi.  Other writers you will read in this issue are Junot Díaz, Isabel Allende, Russell Hoban, and Liz Calder.  Though the content is not available from their website, you will probably be able to find the magazine on newsstands and in large bookstores. See more information below.

    Here's the Glass newsletter that arrived in my inbox:

    Tuesday, March 15, 2011

    LED City Gates for Chongqing. What's Next?

    This is rather interesting (from China Radio International English):
    Chongqing to Build LED Digital City Gates

    Southwest China's Chongqing Municipality is rebuilding its old city gates with LED by virtualization, which would reproduce the ancient scene of seventeen gates of the city at night, the Chongqing Morning Post reports.

    The visuals will be cool, I'm sure. What I'm not sure is whether this is 500 million yuan well spent,  or just another scheme of Bo Xilai's to boost his career achievements as a rising star politician, following his push for mass campaigns such as singing "red songs"  and cadres "aiding" the countryside. The "red song" movement is an eerie reminder of the "loyalty-word dances" (忠字舞) during the Cultural Revolution, and the cadres-leaving-town fad has been dubbed as another "up the mountains and down to the countryside" movement (上山下乡).  But if Bo Xilai is fashioning a modern version of the Cultural Revolution, its style has certainly changed from dark Orwell to euphoric Huxley.  Is Bo aiming to be Chongqing's Mao, or George Burns?

     
    Chongqing people singing "red songs" on a replica Great Wall (from mitbbs.com)

    P.S. To give you a sense what a city gate in Chongqing is like, here is a photo of the Tongyuan Gate, which I took in spring 2009.  Of the original seventeen ancient gates, this is one of the only two that remain (with some restoration):

    Chongqing's Tongyuan Gate (photo taken 2009)

    Saturday, March 5, 2011

    Bicycle-Free China: A Review of The Lost Cyclist

    The Lost Cyclist by David Herlihy, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, $26, hardcover

    Reviewed by Bob Eberlein

    In a recent post on the Atlantic’s web site, Xujun made the claim that I was the first American to ride a bicycle across China in 1987. She was thinking, of course, about her China, the one she had grown up in under Mao that had pretty much shut Americans out and certainly had no appetite for foreign adventurers. I would be very surprised if I was the first post-Mao, though I have no idea who beat me. I just know that there are lots of people who do things just to do them, and don’t try to call attention to themselves. Perhaps, in this day of YouTube and Tweeter, such actions have fallen by the wayside, though I still like to think of the multitudes out doing odd and wonderful things all under the cover of anonymity.

    Forget about modern China. Before Mao, before the Nationalists, before the Warlords, while China still had an Emperor (or at least a Dowager) in charge, the Americans Thomas Allen and William Sachtleben rode their bicycles together across the Gobi desert, reaching Peking in the fall of 1892. A kind reader sent a comment to Xujun telling her about a book, The Lost Cyclist, which gives an account both of their trip, and another by Frank Lenz heading east to west shortly thereafter. Xujun clarified her meaning, and acknowledged the book in a follow-up post. The publisher, noticing mention of The Lost Cyclist on the Atlantic site, sent along a copy – a wonderful surprise!

    No one ever did identify any of the cyclists I assume preceded me in crossing the People’s Republic of China, perhaps this review will prompt such a revelation.

    The Lost Cyclist: The Epic Tale of an American Adventurer and his Mysterious Disappearance by David Herlihy is both an adventure story and a murder mystery, unique for nonfiction, with a fair bit of historical information thrown in. It chronicles the emergence of the vehicle we now think of as a bicycle, then called a safety bicycle to distinguish it from the high wheelers that preceded it, and the, mostly, men who rode them. Then it takes off across America, Europe and Asia from west to east with Allen and Sachtleben, and east to west with Lenz.

    Drawing on the material that Lenz himself had written, the book paints a very interesting picture of 1890s China as Lenz perceived it. Remarkable to me was that he thought of it as the most wild and uncivilized place on the planet. In an interview while in China Lenz says “Afghanistan, Persia and Asia Minor, each have formidable difficulties. But they are not of so dangerous a nature as those who entertain the superstitious belief that a man on a bicycle is a flying devil from the clouds.” 

    This was a China that had never seen a bicycle. To me that is almost as unfathomable as Lenz must have been to the Chinese peasants. Almost a century later I also astonished people in the countryside, but they knew exactly what a bicycle was. They would ride side by side with me and marvel at my beard and the foreign vehicle on which I traveled.

    As I read of Lenz’s travels through China a feeling of dread fell upon me. I feared, as did those he met along the path (for there were few roads in China), that his life would end there. It was with a sigh of relief that I turned the pages onto his passage into Burma.

    Lenz never finished his trip and never returned home. I will not say where his travels ended so as to allow some feeling of mystery to remain for those who have not yet read the book. A third of the book is devoted to the attempt to unravel what happened to him, and bring those responsible to justice. Sachtleben took on this responsibility and found himself in the midst of amazing and heart rending political unrest. On his quest Sachtleben demonstrated bravery, tenacity, competence and even guile. More than anything though, the events depicted saddened me, for he was caught in a dangerous and dark moment in human history, and Sachtleben was lucky to escape with his life.

    Though he did solve the mystery, justice was never done. Rather the injustice that Sachtleben witnessed carried him back to the United States with a heavy heart. The book opens with a brilliant scene some sixty years later, where Sachtleben returns to his boyhood home to look again upon that innocence. That scene is nice on first reading, but ever so much more powerful when reread after finishing the book.

    So all in all The Lost Cyclist is a great read. And yes, for those purists among us, Thomas Stevens road across China in 1886. But his bike was one of those high wheelers and, for goodness sakes, the guy was British.


    Tuesday, February 1, 2011

    Monday, January 31, 2011

    Guest Blogging for James Fallows

    This week I'll be a guest blogger for James Fallows at his Atlantic site, together with Bruce Holmes, Chuck Spinney, and Andrew Sprung. See James' intro here. An impressively diverse group, as James said, and I expect to see some very interesting posts. So please go check it out.

    I'll be writing a series of 4-5 posts, one each day, congruently titled "Another Kind of American History in Chongqing."  I will link to the posts as they are published.  Stay tuned.

    Thursday, January 20, 2011

    2010 and the Cultural Revolution

    I haven't had the time to post much lately, too busy working on a memoir. But the latest issue of Remembrance (in Chinese) has something worth noting.  As a New Year tradition, the magazine lists ten things that happened in the previous year related to the Cultural Revolution. Below are a few highlights from the 2010 list:

    • In January 2010, media reported that the Chongqing City government approved inclusion of the Red Guard Cemetery in the list of protected historical relics. This news brought lots of reporters to visit the Cemetery. (I've written about Chongqing's Red Guard Cemetery in a personal essay "Swimming with Mao.")
    Left: Liu Yuan; Right: Mao Xinyu
    • On July 20, 2010, General Liu Yuan conferred the rank of Major General to Mao Xinyu.  This news caused a big stir in and outside China, because Mao Xinyu is Chairman Mao Zedong's grandson, while Liu Yuan is the son of Liu Shaoqi. Once China's President, Liu Shaoqi died miserably in 1969 under harsh treatment from Mao.  The Chinese internet dubbed that the recent conferring of rank between  descendants of the two bloody enemies was a long plotted "reconciliation" scheme.
    • In October 2010, Southern Weekend published a series of articles about Red Guards apologizing to their victims (teachers). The reports stirred up various reactions on the Chinese internet, including praise and criticism alike. There was an opinion that, those Red Guards who beat up their teachers were products of the teachers' teaching, thus the question "who are qualified to receive the apologies."  The arguments attracted broad attention.
    (P.S. Perhaps the list should also include the UK Education Secretary Michael Gove's moronic analogy to China's Cultural Revolution.)

    Sunday, January 9, 2011

    A Boxer-Murder Mystery in Hainan: Part 4

    by Maple, guest blogger

    [in translation, continued from Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3 / 阅读中文原文]

    "No fears, I can guide you there," an onlooker volunteered. "Just you alone, no others." The man said he knew a secret path into George's old residence. Karl followed the man without hesitation. Elder Wu, who noticed our uncertain expression, said with a smile, "Rest assured. Poison snakes don't bite their master."

    Karl and Elder Wu

    Soon Karl appeared on the other side of the wall, in the old cottage. He ran up and down the building excitedly, putting a finger by his lips to shush us. Situ shook his head, "Oh my God, I don't recognize him anymore. So excited!"

    Friday, January 7, 2011

    The Paris Commune Revisited

    A French journalist Amanda Morrow, after reading my essay "The Wall of the Paris Commune" (Divide, 2005), interviewed me on the phone last week.  Her article "Truth buried as Paris cemetery sculpture is mistook for famous wall" appeared on the website of Radio France International's English section today. I learned something new about the history of the Paris Commune through her writing.

    As a side note, in the part she quoted me, there is a tiny misunderstanding (this is not a big deal; it's just my writer's fussy nature that drives me to make a correction).  When I visited Paris in 2004, the official map of the Père Lachaise I bought at the cemetery gate did not have two points referencing the Commune. It mentioned only one.  In fact, it was the map seller who told me that Chinese visitors had been seeing two different spots.  

    In the interview I also told Morrow that I liked the relief sculpture titled "Victimes des Révoluntions" very much. It is a beautiful sculpture with the beautiful concept that it is devoted to all victims of revolutions, regardless of the side they took.

    Victimes des Révolunt (photo by me, 2004)

    Sunday, January 2, 2011

    A Boxer-Murder Mystery in Hainan: Part 3

    by Maple, guest blogger

    [in translation, continued from Part 1 and Part 2 / 阅读中文原文]

    I couldn't help but asking in a gossipy whisper: "The man behind us is George's grandson! How come you are not more excited to see him? Does he evoke any old memories? Does he look like his grandfather?" Elder Wu turned his face to me, eyes limpid and calm: "What kind of things have I not seen at this age? What's there to be excited about? Here you go, a castor leaf for you to block the sun."

    I don't know whether I will live to 92, or if I did, whether I would no longer feel excited about anything. In any case I haven't woken to such a state in my current life. I trotted back to Situ and told him what Elder Wu said. Eloquent as Situ was, he stammered with widening eyes, "Therefore Elder Wu, he, he…" "Yes! Therefore hurry up, go tell Karl!" Watching Situ and Karl catching up with Elder Wu, Elder Zhou smiled tolerantly, "Disorder! I had planned to tell you guys at lunch."

    Wednesday, December 29, 2010

    UK Wants a "Cultural Revolution Just Like the One They've Had in China"


    I can't quite describe my feeling.  Words fail me at a moment like this.  So let me just point out one eerie thing:   Mr. Gove appears to be very well suited for the role of "Cultural Revolution" education secretary.  During that wondrous period, you know, uneducated people took over the leadership of China's educational system.  Universities were closed to the public for 10 years.  High schools closed for 6 years. Elementary and middle schools closed for 3 years. Not to mention libraries were sealed and books were burned. I can see why Mr. Gove thinks this was definitely the cause of China's academic success today.

    Great. Let’s watch the UK have at it!

    Sunday, December 26, 2010

    A Boxer-Murder Mystery in Hainan: Part 2

    by Maple, guest blogger

    [in translation, continued from Part 1 / 阅读中文原文]

    A brief history of Christianity in China before I go further:  Catholics first entered China in the 7th century; now there are about four million Catholics in the country, commonly distributed in the suburbs around cities big and small.  Protestants entered China in early 19th century; their missionaries often settled in remote and backward areas. Many never returned home, but became common residents of villages, unknown to the public. They struggled to make a living in adverse conditions, just like the locals, until they died and were buried in the wilderness. Along the Yunnan-Tibet, Yunnan-Burma, and Sichuan-Tibet borders, I've often seen tombstones like this: "Allen Thompson, English missionary, 1805-1886."  Currently China has about ten million Protestants.

    *

    A little after 10 am, we arrived at the town of Jiaji, in Qiong Hai city’s jurisdiction. I hadn't been here for four or five years, and was a bit surprised by its change. The rural dirt roads had developed into a four-lane asphalt highway. The farm fields on the roadside had changed into beautiful residential enclaves. Carrefour and Kentucky Chicken replaced farmers markets. Four- or five-star hotels neatly lined up.

    Situ asked: "Therefore each year the Boao Forum for Asia (博鳌亚洲论坛会) is held here? Didn't Ms. Clinton stay here a few days ago?"  I laughed: "You are a China Hand! Even this you have heard. Who knows, tonight you guys might stay in the same hotel Hillary did." "That's impossible," Situ said, "we booked the hotel online. It's an average one, about 700 yuan." He took out the receipt to show me – it was exactly the Sofitel Hotel where Hillary had been! Situ laughed loudly: "Therefore Hainan people are really fortunate! In Beijing hotels of this caliber would cost two or three thousand yuan a night."

    Monday, December 20, 2010

    A Boxer-Murder Mystery in Hainan: Part 1

    by Maple, guest blogger

    [in translation, 阅读中文原文]

    Hainan, China –  One evening near the end of November, I got a call from Beijing. My friend DL asked if I could help an American trace his ancestor in Hainan.

    DL's friend, Doctor Cai, who practices Chinese medicine in the US, is the nephew of Chen Lifu and Chen Guofu, brothers of one of the "four big families" in Nationalist China. Many of Doctor Cai's patients are Americans fond of Chinese traditional culture. Every year, a portion of those follow Doctor Cai to visit China, hoping to learn about this age-old and mystical country through first-hand experience.

    This November, as usual, Doctor Cai brought a dozen or so Americans to Beijing. After the group activities were finished, all but one returned to the US. Karl, a Los Angeles real estate developer, stayed for a reason.

    Saturday, December 4, 2010

    American Conspiracy in China – A Review for Rock Paper Tiger

    Rock Paper Tiger by Lisa Brackmann, Soho Press, $25, hardcover

    Reviewed by Bob Eberlein

    Lisa Brackmann has put out a terrific thriller that runs us around China on an adventure including sightseeing, espionage, terrorism, torture and, of course, art. Rock Paper Tiger is the never-boring, fast moving story of a woman wounded in Iraq finding unexpected refuge in China, only to have the nightmares of the Iraq war revisit her.

    It starts with the innocuous meeting of Ellie, the protagonist, with her occasional boyfriend Lao Zhang, and a Uygur man from Xinjiang who some believe is a terrorist. The meeting itself would never have happened but that Ellie’s cell phone ran out of money. That small failure in life management is pretty typical for Ellie. An encounter with an IED in Iraq has also left her with a leg that causes constant pain and a disposition that is often downright skittish. Those bits of her characters, along with the general impulsiveness that seems to be her trademark, lead Ellie into lots of trouble very quickly.

    Thursday, October 14, 2010

    The Unbearable Lightness of Nobel Prize Jokes

    In my childhood, during the CR, there were no fun books to read, so one of my great entertainment pleasures was to tell and retell international political jokes.  These were jokes I heard from others, or read in Reference News (参考消息,a Party newspaper my parents subscribed to).  The subjects mocked by those jokes were, almost exclusively, the United States and the Soviet Union.  Sometimes the jokes were so clever and funny my playmates and I would roll around on the ground laughing.  Nobody then would have imagined that one day China itself could become a subject of political jokes.

    In the vociferous reactions to this year's Nobel Peace Prize, there is a lighter side:  a number of political jokes have been circulating on overseas Chinese websites.  The following is my translation of one of those.

    Thursday, September 30, 2010

    Remembrance 58

    In Issue 58 of Remembrance (in Chinese) , one of its editors Qizhi (Wu Di), who is also a historian, contrasts Western and Chinese standards and practices for writing history. Mao's Last Revolution by Roderick MacFarquhar and Michael Schoenhals, this very important historical volume most highly regarded by both Westerners and Chinese, would have been sentenced to death by academics in China, even in Hong Kong, says Qizhi.  And he is not talking about political issues. He is talking about academic criteria for historical books and argues that there is something very wrong with those in present day China.

    Bu Weihua, in "On Several Problems with Mao's Last Revolution," points out a number of mistakes, inaccuracies and improprieties in that book while expressing admiration for its achievement.

    Hao Jian provides a detailed analysis of the documentary Morning Sun, on its composition style, camera language, and moral principle.

    Ran Yunfei, a well-known Chengdu blogger, reviews He Shu's new book Fighting for Mao – Chongqing’s Large Armed-Fights (《为毛主席而战—文革重庆大武斗实录》).

    There are much more, including the news of a book by a woman author that lauds the Cultural Revolution (which really is news to me!).

    If you can read Chinese, read this issue here.

    Wednesday, September 22, 2010

    It Is the Moon Festival

    Today is the 15th day of the 8th month in the lunar calendar – the Mid-Autumn Festival, what people here call "the moon festival."  If you look up at the moon tonight, chances are you'll find it the roundest, brightest of the year.  When I was a child, my grandmother used to tell us that if you place a basin of clear water under the moon on this day, you'll see the jade tree and the jade rabbit in it.  I tried, and I always saw a vague shape in shadow, which could be interpreted as almost anything. (Image from http://apod.nasa.gov/apod/ap070926.html)

    Ancient Chinese poets seemed to have a special sentiment for the moon, as evidenced by numerous poems intoning it. One of the most well-known perhaps is Su Dongpo's "Shui Diao Ge Tou," in the form of Song ci, a rhymed verse composed of lines of three to seven characters which first appeared in the Tang Dynasty (AD 618-907), and reached its perfection in the Song Dynasty (AD 960-1279). It was 934 years ago today that Su Dongpo wrote this classic masterpiece.

    Many English translations exist, however none could convey to me the sentiments wafting through the Chinese words.  As an example, the following are three different translations of Su Dongpo's lines "人有悲欢离合,月有阴晴圆缺,此事古难全":

    Men know joy and sorow, parting and reunion;
    The moon lacks lustre, brightly shines; is al, is less.
    Perfection was never easily come by.

    • As translated by Xu Zhongjie (1986):
    The moon has weather that change,
    Fine or foul; it wax and shine.
    Mankind is sad at parting;
    Happy at reunion again.
    From the utmost ancient time,
    Down to our own very days,
    The imperfection of all things –
    Has for ever been the case.

    • As translated by Yang Yixian etc (2001).:
    For men the grief of parting, joy of reunion,
    Just as the moon wanes and waxes, is bright or dim;
    Always some flaw – and so it has been since of old.

    All are fine translations, but whereas the Chinese sounds extraordinary, the English makes it dull.  It is not the translator. It is the damn language. This is the reason I almost never attempt to translate ancient poems – I simply can't get the succinct beauty, the exquisiteness, and the sonorous sound across.  An ancient Chinese poem can make my heart tremble, but an English translation of it never does.  It is not the translator. It is the damn language.

    Some say a pictographic language is more primitive than an alphabetic one – or in other words, an alphabetic language is progress in civilization.  Mao seemed to agree with this.  I still remember a Mao quotation from my childhood: "Chinese language should go the common alphabetic direction of other countries in the world."  I am glad this did not happen.  I'm sure an alphabetic Chinese would never give me the joy and intimacy the square characters do.

    I recently read a very enjoyable book, Dreaming in Chinese by Deborah Fallows. Her experience in learning the Chinese culture through learning the language – the frustration and triumph, the pain and pleasure, the questioning and understanding –  are presented from a refreshing angle, often surprisingly so to a native Chinese speaker like me. I'd recommend this book to anyone who's new to things Chinese.  In one of the chapters the author asks a legitimate question, "Why do the Chinese hang onto this difficult character-based writing system?" She points out its disadvantages: cumbersome, hard to learn, awkward to look up in dictionaries, etc.  She also recognizes its merits, mainly its historical and cultural significance.  I want to add a personal perspective:  I think Chinese is the richest language in the world.  For me, as probably for most Chinese, its merits clearly overweigh the inconveniences.  (As a native speaker I actually never felt the inconveniences anyway.)

    Why then, you might ask, am I writing in English now?  In fact several editors who interviewed me have asked that question. The answer is:  for communication.  I live among English speakers and I feel the need to communicate.  (If you want to know why I came to the US, the short answer is "for love."  Read the story here if you are interested.)  In other words, Chinese is a passion, English is a tool.  Today I still prefer to read Chinese books over English ones, and in fact I can read Chinese 30 times faster.

    It is a pain to love one language and use another in daily life. It causes a schism in my consciousness.  But that's imperfection of life, and I accept it.  Su Dongpo has said it, 此事古难全.

    Tuesday, September 14, 2010

    To Remember or Not to Remember

    Issue 57 of Remembrance (in Chinese) arrived yesterday, on the second anniversary of this important e-journal.  The current issue focuses on the “one crackdown, three counterings” (一打三反) campaign that took place in  1970, during which a large number of innocent people and young thinkers with dissident thoughts were executed, including the extraordinary 27-year-old  Yu Luoke.  Today few young people in China are aware of this dark time when words and thoughts cost one’s life.

    The first article in this issue by Wang Rui is titled “Zhou Enlai and the ‘One Crackdown, Three Counterings’ Campaign,” claiming it was Zhou Enlai, not Mao Zedong, who launched this cruel campaign. Another article, titled “The 40th Anniversary Memorial of Nanjing’s March 6 Public Verdict” by Fang Zifen, gives a heart-wrenching eye-witness account of the tragic day four decades ago, when 11 “counter-revolutionaries”  were given a sudden death verdict in public and executed on the spot, with 100,000 people looking on.  The execution was so abrupt and unexpected that the families of the victims had no means to collect the ashes, which were then forever lost.  A decade later, every case was overturned – 100% wrongly executed. This is the city well known for "The Rape of Nanjing."  “Now every year on December 13, Chinese mourn with deep grief those countrymen killed in the [1937] Japanese massacre, but for unknown reasons the victims of the smaller massacre on March 6, 1970 are gradually forgotten. Not me!” – The author writes. He was one of the more fortunate victims that day, getting only a life sentence.

    Fang’s lamenting reminds me of a conversation I had with a Japanese several years ago.  My sister and I were site-seeing Yunnan’s terraced fields around the time of the Spring Festival. One early morning we, like many other tourists, got up about 4 am trying to catch the spectacular sunrise.  In the dim dawn a luxury bus of Japanese tourists arrived at the cliff we were all standing atop. The sun did not rise, and somehow I got into a chat with the nice Japanese gentleman by my side, who looked to be in his sixties. He was carrying a set of expensive-looking cameras, and spoke fluent Chinese.  At the time the news had spread that the Japanese government erased from school textbooks any mention of their invasion of China during the 1930s-40s, and Chinese resentment of this was running high.  I don’t remember how we got to that topic, but at one point I said, either trying to explain the sentiment, or being provocative as sometimes a journalist would do , “Japanese did lots of bad things to Chinese during the Second World War, you know.” The man replied – to my complete surprise – “Chinese did lots of bad things to Chinese too. People do bad things everywhere.”

    I was tongue-tied, for a moment didn’t know how to respond. In retrospect, I was upset not only because his tone was unapologetic but also because there was a slice of truth in his words.  Finally I said, “That does not excuse the Japanese atrocities.” “No it doesn’t,” he agreed.

    Should the Chinese’s own killing be excused or forgotten, then?  The reality is, we’ll probably never see a public mourning of those innocent people killed by their government during the 1970s.

    If you can read Chinese, read the new issue of Remembrance here.

    Wednesday, September 1, 2010

    If You Can Read Chinese, Read This E-Journal

    The new issue of Remembrance (<记忆>) continues to review  Mao’s Last Revolution (by Roderick MacFarquhar and Michael Schoenhals; Chinese translation can be found here). The four articles in issues 55 and 56 discuss the book from different angles, with thoughtful comments and legitimate questions.  All are well worth reading.

    Coincidentally, nearly two years ago, it was Michael Schoenhals who had this to say about the journal (阅读中文):
    Remembrance (记忆, jiyi) is an electronic journal edited by Cultural Revolution historians in China in the May 4th tradition of the joint intellectual venture that does not so much put a premium on uniformity of opinion – and even less on common party political affiliation – as on a shared desire to explore a subject without prejudice in the pursuit of historical truth. ... The journal is a Chinese venture, but in the 21st century that no longer prevents it from being a globalized one.
    Schoenhals nailed the main characteristic of the e-journal precisely: it is non-partisan and it is without prejudice. One can often find opposite opinions in feature articles and readers’ letters to the editor.  Meanwhile, the journal consistently provides high-quality research and well-written memoirs.  For anyone who is interested in learning about the true history of China’s Cultural Revolution, or contributing to the research, Remembrance is the one reliable place to go.

    Another book discussed in the current issue is Fighting for Mao – Chongqing’s Large Armed-Fights (《为毛主席而战—文革重庆大武斗实录》) by He Shu, newly published (in Chinese) by Joint Publishing (H. K.). I’ve read He Shu’s articles on this topic before, and I believe his new book is a significant contribution to the CR research. It is a valuable book to possess and I certainly am going to buy it.

    Remembrance is published every two weeks.  To manage in the reality of China’s internet censorship, the journal maintains a low-key, high-quality policy, and it does not have an official website in the mainland.  As such I volunteered (with the editors’ permission) to host the journal on my website. I will update every two weeks as soon as the e-journal arrives in my inbox.

    My only regret is that I don’t have the time to translate all the articles into English. Hopefully, as the journal content gets compiled into books, professional translations will also become available.  For now, those of you who can read Chinese have the clear advantage of “a waterside pavilion getting the moonlight first.”

    Related posts:

    Thursday, August 26, 2010

    What Everyone Needs to Know about China

    China in the 21st Century: What Everyone Needs to Know, by Jeffrey N. Wasserstrom, Oxford University Press, USA, $16.95 (paperback)

    Reviewed by Xujun Eberlein

    Being surprised is something I expect from a good work of fiction, but not necessarily from nonfiction, especially when I am familiar with the subject – or so I thought.

    Thus it was a treat when I found plenty of surprises in Jeffrey Wasserstrom’s new book, China in the 21st Century: What Everyone Needs to Know, such as the following passage from the section titled “What is the alternative to viewing Mao as a monster?”:

    There are many alternatives to thinking of Mao as a fiend who was China’s Hitler. One useful one is to see Mao’s place in China today as comparable to that of Andrew Jackson’s in the United States. Though admittedly far from perfect, the comparison is based on the fact that Jackson is remembered both as someone who played a significant role in the development of a political organization (the Democratic Party) that still has many partisans, and as someone responsible for brutal policies toward Native Americans that are now often referred to as genocidal.

    Both men are thought of as having done terrible things, yet this does not necessarily prevent them from being used as positive symbols. And Jackson still appears on $20 bills, even though Americans tend now to view as heinous the institution of slavery (of which he was a passionate defender) and the early 19th-century military campaigns against Native Americans (in which he took part).

    This comparison is refreshing, and it could only come from someone who knows both American and Chinese history intimately. Admittedly, I have limited knowledge about President Andrew Jackson. Growing up in China before “reform and opening,” the most familiar images of US presidents to my generation then were Johnson and Nixon – the former a caricatured warmonger and the latter a chameleon suddenly changing from China’s number one enemy to the hero who normalized Sino-America relations to the world’s biggest scandal maker. (If you find those one-sided images laughable, perhaps it sheds some light on why many images of China commonplace in the West make no sense to Chinese.) 

    On the Chinese internet today, however, when searching for “President Jackson,” glorious descriptions fill my eyes: “people’s friend,”  “the bank killer,” a war hero who defeated the British army, a wise politician who prevented the US from splitting apart. No mention of his not-so-glorious role in killing Native Americans.  You wonder how an average internet surfer in mainland China can get a complete picture of this controversial American president.

    But, before you feel fortunate to have the benefit of a free press and internet, hold on a second. Can the average American reader get the whole picture of Mao? This really depends on what you happen to read or hear. If you have only read Jung Chang and Jon Halliday’s best-selling biography, Mao: The Unknown Story (2005, and see my review here), for example, then Mao was born a monster. If you have only read Edgar Snow’s Red Star Over China (1937), on the other hand, then Mao was a legendary hero of the Chinese peasants. The actual Mao, of course, was a more complex historical figure than either of those works portray.  

    Chinese in the Tang Dynasty already understood “Listen to both sides and you will be enlightened; heed only one side and you will be benighted” (兼听则明,偏听则暗), but it is never easy to consistently follow this practice. The few American writers I know of who write about China with this maxim in mind include James Fallows, Peter Hessler, and Jeffrey Wasserstrom. If you are interested in China and don’t want to be benighted or brainwashed, read books with different views before forming your opinion. Or, as a short cut, start with a book like China in the 21st Century: What Everyone Needs to Know. The parallel between Mao and Andrew Jackson might be imperfect, as Wasserstrom has noted, but it is a big step up from good-evil dichotomy that seems so pervasive.

    In fact, one of the most appealing characteristics of Wasserstrom’s new book is that it does not sidestep controversial issues and opinions.  On the contrary, it deliberately provides the reader with views from opposite sides, in a rather straightforward and balanced manner.  Here’s another example. In addressing the question “How does the reputation of the [Boxer] crisis differ in China?” Wasserstrom writes:

    In the West and in Japan, the Boxer Rebellion is presented as a tale of the rise and fall of a violent Chinese group. Emphasis is placed on the Boxers’ superstitious beliefs, including their notion that they could make themselves impervious to bullets and that railway tracks should be torn up to appease local gods. In China, by contrast, while the violence and superstitions of the Boxers are sometimes criticized, there is more emphasis on other aspects of the crisis, such as the grievances that led to the insurrection. These injustices included decades of foreign powers’ extending their reach into Chinese territory, and the atrocities committed during the “Invasion of the Eight Allied Armies,” including the looting of Chinese national treasures and the revenge killing of thousands of northern Chinese. In Chinese accounts now, the Boxer Protocol is described as one of many humiliating and unjustly one-sided treaties.

    Perhaps no viewpoints are as starkly in contrast as those on the so-called “Boxer Rebellion” crisis. I still remember the shock, just after moving to the US, of hearing how Westerners view the Boxers as nothing more than a frenzied mob engaged in slaughtering and burning. In China, now as then, a common view is that the Boxers were patriots, though perhaps too superstitious and prone to violence.  In other words, they were regarded as flawed and tragic heroes. Tales of a bare-handed Boxer, with his outstanding kungfu, beating an armed foreign bully are still greatly entertaining among common Chinese.  There has been a change over the past three decades though: today when people talk about the historical event itself, more emphasis seems to be placed on how stupid the Boxers were to use bare-hands to fight firearms, and how backward China was then in terms of national defense.

    The official view has changed more dramatically. As a deeply cultured Chinese writer, Feng Jicai, whose novel about the Boxers was very popular in the 1970s and who is now unhappy with the portrayal in that book, says in an interview earlier this year, Chinese understanding of the Boxer movement has never been free of political utilitarianism. During the Cultural Revolution, to meet the political needs of the time, the Boxers were portrayed as revolutionaries consciously anti-imperialistic. Today, on the other hand, to comply with the reform and opening policy “we treat the Boxer movement as a typical case of blind xenophobia.” As such, Feng believes no historian has really touched the truth of that history, which he is trying to find. A native of Tianjin, a city with rich stories of the Boxers, Feng says the subject is always a knot in his heart. He has been writing new stories about it.

    I like what Feng said, that the truth has yet to be found, because it whets my appetite to learn something new about an old topic. In a sense, Wasserstrom’s book has a similar effect on me. In recognizing differences between Western and Chinese views, Wasserstrom helps break stereotypical perceptions and opens the reader’s inquiring minds. He does so throughout the book.

    The breadth of this relatively short, 150-page book is amazing. Starting with “Who was Confucius,” it continues without pause to  “What was the Dynastic Cycle,” “What was the Opium War,” “Why did the Qing Dynasty Fail,” and much more. Given the brevity and the format, there is a necessary lack of nuance, but there is a great overview of the backbone of Chinese history presented in the blink of an eye.

    Building off of the past, the book devotes a chapter to the post-Mao development of China into the modern state it now is. Then it outlines “U.S. –China Misunderstandings,” and finally presents a chapter on what the future holds, providing useful insights into the different ways that Americans and Chinese view one another and how differently they interpret the same events.

    Understanding what is happening in China, or America, is difficult for even the best informed people on both sides of the globe. If you are trying to get real insight into the Boxer Rebellion, Mao Zedong, Tibet or a host of other issues relating to China, one short book is surely not enough. But whether you are new to things Chinese or are an old China-hand, something said in China in the 21st Century: What Everyone Needs to Know will make you think twice, and the references included should carry you quite a way. If you feel a bit lost for not getting a definitive answer to some questions, then you might be one step closer to learning the truth.

    Friday, August 20, 2010

    Sichuan: Land of Abundance or Emptiness?

    For thousands of years Sichuan, "Land of Abundance," has been recognized as China’s most fertile agricultural base. A new development model being pushed by the provincial government may forever change that. Yesterday I received an email from Maple describing a “pilot program” :

    (In translation; 阅读中文原文)
    My husband and I were in Chengdu’s Qingcheng Mountains last week, and visited some newly built peasant residences, all beautiful two-story small villas. A woman in her thirties very politely invited us into her house, and answered all my questions in detail.

    Monument for a new peasant residence (photo by Maple Xu)


    These new peasant residences were built after the [2008’s] earthquake. They look very handsome, however the residents are not victims of the earthquake – they did not have personal or property losses from the disaster. Rather, the new houses are the result of a pilot project taking advantage of the post-disaster rebuilding momentum. These “urban-rural synthesis overall planning” developments are government programs currently ongoing in Sichuan and Chongqing. Simply put, the peasants provide the land, and the government selects a developer to do the unified planning, design, and construction in an urban style. Each participating peasant contributes 2 fens(133.3 square meters) of land, and after the construction is complete, each gets 35 square meters of housing in return. The developer can use the remaining land in any way he wants. Thus, neither the peasants nor the government have to pay a penny, and the developer also gets practical benefits. All are happy.

    The family we visited is a household of five. Using 10 fens (666.7 square meter) of their land, they exchanged for a small villa of 175 square meters with a beautiful interior. When asked how they’d make a living without land, the woman replied: 打工- migrant work. They still have a small portion of their land left, and they use it to plant vegetables for sale. Apparently, the woman and her family are very satisfied with their current living condition. After visiting her, I talked to two other people in the neighborhood, and got similar answers.
    New peasant residence in Chengdu's Qingcheng Mountains
    (photo by Maple Xu)

    No farmland could be seen around the residences. There were only a few stalks of corn planted by the “rural home inn” (农家乐) where we stayed, in a small yard, probably smaller than your flower garden.

    In my eyes, their life style is no different from that of city people. The peasants themselves also work in the city. But I don’t know if this is a good change. Farmland all turning into villas, vegetable patches become parking, where do we get food and vegetables from? My husband disagrees. He says peasants have the right to live the city people’s life. It is a trend of China’s agricultural reform: centralizing peasants’ scattered residences, and centralizing rural land management so as to bring it to scale. He also says nowadays China imports lots of grains, because the cost is lower than domestic production.

    I can only speak intuitively that, when rural is not like rural, city is not like city, it is problematic. Now if you go to Sichuan’s rural areas, you rarely see a piece of farm land, let alone pigs and cows. That’s why when tourists come to Hainan, a relatively backward region, and see water buffaloes pulling plows in paddies, they exclaim, "Exotic!" The media and propaganda keep shouting about building great metropolises, about bringing China’s economy more in line with world standards, about world as one community and the earth as flat, et cetera – I can agree with none of them. If one day Shanghai becomes a clone of Paris, Chongqing a mirror of New York, wouldn’t life becomes meaningless? Look at today’s Chongqing, where hills are dynamited to flatten land, the rubble is used to fill in valleys, and the numerous high rises stand up like a forest. The “mountain city” has no mountain. The “fog capital” has no fog. Isn’t this extremely sad?


    And here is a headline from last week’s media: “Sichuan forcefully advances rural tourism and the development of vacation agriculture.”

    “Vacation agriculture”: instead of working the fields, peasants take care of tourists from the city. Nothing gets growing – can you call that agriculture at all?