Even if the king of the internet and man of the year Han Han thinks the opposite, the plot has as much in common with the forced evictions in China as it has with the cruel seal huntings in Greenland, or the extinction of the smurfs.

Which makes me think we are all suffering a phenomenon of hyperobservation, if that is the word I want. It was warranted in the case of 2012, where China was explicitly displayed, but let’s give ourselves a break and not scan every Hollywood number for signs of Chineseness.

Apart from this, if you want my opinion the movie was just OK, nothing to write blogs about. I have to say I am more of a reader than a movie watcher, I am focused on the plot/characters and the special FXs tend to leave me cold. On the other hand, I guess my watching it on my 2D Television without special glasses or even beer goggles didn’t help much. And to be fair to the Chinese commentators translated on ESWN, most of them (except HH) were just rambling about the technical level of the FX.

Ah, by the way, Avatar DVD was already on the tricycles already as of last weekend, and the series Woju just came out yesterday. My local retailer stopped me as I rode back from work, he was keeping an eye for me. No English subtitles included though, not even Chinglish.

The serial is WoJu, the Snail’s House, stupidly translated to English as Narrow Dwellingness, or whatever. It has been red hot in China since its first broadcast in November. Alice Liu of Danwei and the Youku buzz blog covered it recently.

As those blogs noted, this has been the most explosive success we remember in Chinese TV serials. In less than a month it sparked heated debate on the internet, attracted millions online and off, and with that came the hideous hand of the censors. One reason for its rapid success is the central theme about the problems to buy a house, which just hit the spot among the young Chinese audiences.

But Woju is much more than a tale of real estate and corruption. It is a gripping drama, with rich subplots evolving around a central love triangle, populated with very real characters. A sharp critique of the modern Chinese society, and by far the best product I have ever seen on the mainland TV. Originally it was a novel published  in 2007 by Liuliu, a Chinese writer that we should be watching more closely in the future.

Here are my impressions of the serial now that I have finished the first 15 chapters.  I will focus on the two main points of interest: the informative contents for anyone looking to understand China, and the quality of the product independently of other considerations. In the end are also some funny things I observed related to censorship and others.

Content

This serial is the paradise of the 中国通, the aspiring China experts.  Anyone trying to understand China should watch it. If the characters are not exactly real (no fiction can ever be) their worries, their problems and their motivations are a hi-fi amplified reflection of those moving the young citizens of China today. It is a concentrate of Chinese reality.

All the elements we have been speaking for the last years are there, not a single one is missing: guanxi building, cadres’ 二奶 (lovers), shanghai men bullied by their wifes, working parents who can’t see their babies, illegal high-interest loans, collusion between developers and local officials, the conflict between shanghaiers and outsiders, the overnight rich of Wenzhou, the ethics of the new China, the 拆迁 or "destroy and move", the "nail people" who resist, the shanzhai mobile phones… you name it.

And all is so precise that you can even see how much the characters are earning in their jobs, what interest the loan sharks ask, or how much it costs a party cadre to get his first little 二奶 (lover).

There are surely better books that depict the Chinese society in the past, but the subject is changing so fast they are all outdated. I do not think there is any other work of fiction today that reflects more precisely the Shanghai society circa 2010.

"Hello, I’m Secretary Song of the Municipal Party Committee  (and I just shagged your girlfriend)"

If you are learning Chinese, the series is a double must for its great idiomatic mandarin. If you are not, then stand by for the DVDs with English subtitles, hoping the pirates get a human translator with his TOEFL levels this time. There is definitely a market for this, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they come up with a movie next year, provided the government doesn’t stop it.

Quality

But more important than all the above is the quality of the product. It is good fiction and good entertainment.

The story is driven by an intense love triangle centered on the young Haizao, played by beautiful actress Li Nian. All the elements listed above, including the winners and the losers of the Real Estate craze, gravitate around this love/hate story that puts in contact two different worlds: the laobaixing and the cadres, the two classes of urban China.

But perhaps the best aspect of the serial, a breathe of fresh air on Chinese TV, is its absolute lack of moral lessons for the public. There are no heroes or villains here. The covetous developer, the unbearably vain wife, the fainthearted Shanghai husband, the enigmatic, outrageous Shanghai girl played by Li Nian. Every single one of them is just human, with weaknesses and ambitions like all of us. Every one of them can be up to the best and to the worst.

Even the corrupt official is all too human. A weak man in a midlife crisis with too much power in his hands and a system that doesn’t check his acts. Corruption, like love, happens as a natural course of events, the result of a sick society and not of an evil personal plan. And Jiangzhou, the Chinese Gotham that stands for Shanghai, is the mighty whirlwind of action where all the characters are hopelessly adrift.

Censorship

Not surprisingly, the serial has been censored by the government. However, it has been censored in ways that strike me as prudish, if not plainly idiotic.

Since I am in Europe now, I have been able to watch the serial on YouTube and compare with the censored one available on the Chinese site YouKu.  There was no censorship on the image above, where a Shanghai Party Official brazenly chats with the boyfriend of the girl he has just raped making free use of his political muscle.

Instead, the images below were censored:

See the original scene, and below the censored version as shown in China.

This is the first proper sex scene of the serial. In the original version you see the moaning face of Haizao in one quarter of the screen, while the other images correspond to the respective wife and boyfriend, who are shown at home worrying for their loved ones, while they are being made cuckolds of Olympic category.

Is the moaning face of Haizao more obscene than the happy Mr. Song shown above? Draw your own consequences. Also interesting is to note that the producers have participated in the censoring process, and the hot scenes are not merely cut out, but edited and substituted by other originals, as in the larger image of the wife above.

Other Details and Questions

I will come back with more details when I am done with the serial, but for the moment I have 2 questions for the public, and especially for the many Chinese I know who have already watched the whole 35 chapters:

1- Why does the serial show so prominently the "Coogle" shanzhaied phone of Haizao, is it just to make it more realistic or is it a revenge because Google refused to sponsor?

2- There is one part of the plot I just can’t understand: how can Haizao be a virgin when she first sleeps with Song, if she has been living with her boyfriend for years? Is this a gap in the plot or am I missing some serious (and worrying) element of the Chinese culture?

But there are more interesting implications than the mere difficulty of the language, in particular cultural and political ones. Because the refusal to use loans and phonetic script is the result of conscious decisions. There is nothing in the language itself that forbids import of foreign words or use of an alphabet, indeed, there are already some exceptions of direct loans in current use that are written in latin letters, such as DVD or KTV.

Chinese has a parallel Word System diverging from the rest of the World, and the government has an active role in the maintenance of this system. However, this policy is not unilaterally imposed from above. It is certainly encouraged by the education system, but Chinese speakers seem to follow it naturally and often prefer Chinese roots even when not supervised. This is in contrast with the situation in many countries where the system tries to protect local terms, only to find that people still prefer “email” to “courier electronique”.

Anyone living in China long enough realizes how aware Chinese are of their long history and their status as a different civilization. This discourse is irritating for Westerners, because it reminds too much of ultra-nationalistic creeds back home. But it has one essential difference with those creeds: in the case of China, it is true. As we said before, China is justified to see itself as a cradle of civilization, and it is the only such culture that has survived practically independent from World mainstream till modern times. This cultural awareness is the main reason for the preservation of the language as we know it, surviving different regimes and even periods of chaos.

When we study Chinese we are not merely learning another language, we are learning the words of a parallel World, the last independent system of vocabulary and writing that humanity still has. It is the most similar experience available on Earth to learning the language of another planet. If Chinese is really so hard to learn, this should provide enough motivation for anyone to try it.

Political considerations

Mandarin is not in itself a very difficult language, what makes it hard is its complex Word System, which is for the most part not essential (that is, the language could still exist with loans and an alphabet). This System makes it hard for foreigners and Chinese to communicate, and it is a serious obstacle in the education of the Chinese. In the last century,  development has been the main priority of China in order to recover her past glory, and inefficient relics have been torn down without blinking, just like the Walls of Beijing. Chinese words and characters are the last of those obstructive monuments to remain, and by far the oldest of all. It is a miracle that they have survived till today.

The invention of convenient methods to input characters on a keyboard has made the future of the characters seem more secure, but their permanence is by no means ensured. Many famous linguists have argued for the use of pinyin as main written language and elimination of the characters from daily life, not least of them Lu Xun, or the late John de Francis. Much as I admire these men and their work, I am completely opposed to their position as a matter of principles. I don’t suppose anyone will believe me in this age of economists, even less in the China of the new philosophies, but I have this to say: Efficiency is not a supreme value. In fact, it is not even a value in itself, but just a means. And a sad means it would be to recover the greatness of China, if there were nothing left to recover.

I think it is clear to most Chinese today that their Word System is too precious to abandon it for the sake of efficiency. However, some reasonable concessions can be made which might ensure the very survival of the System in the long term. In particular, the acceptance of foreign loans for new technical words might facilitate the access of Chinese to foreign research and the incorporation of foreign talents when the real Chinese brain-drain starts in earnest. The complete acceptance of latin script to represent phonetically foreign Proper Nouns (which is already used informally) would also be a step towards efficiency without sacrificing the heart of the system, and would be of great help for all the Chinese trying to learn English.

Apart from the practical issues considered, no less important is the mentality underlying the Chinese Word System. The growing common vocabulary in all the languages in the World represents the recognition by most cultures that there is a large part of common human culture, and that, since this part is only going to become larger with the progress of technology, the sensible solution is to adopt a common language to communicate it. By deciding to stay apart from this system, the linguistic choice of China represents a stance opposed to the rest of the World, and in a certain way it perpetuates the traditional isolation of the Middle Kingdom even in the age of Global interconnection. The insularity of the Chinese internet community and the misunderstandings between cultures that have arisen from it are, to some extent, a consequence of this choice.

The part played by the language in China’s relations with the World is probably not of the first importance. But even today this part is not negligible, and with the advances in communications, nobody knows how vital it will become in the future. Ultimately, it is only up to the Chinese to decide what language they want for themselves. We can only wait and see, and hope that they find a way to stay connected with us, while preserving their unique heritage of Words.

…despite his youthful bravado, Han, who has published 14 books and anthologies, generally stays away from sensitive issues such as democracy and human rights. His calculated rebelliousness, says Lydia Liu, a professor of Chinese and Comparative Literature at Columbia University, exemplifies the unspoken compact his generation has forged with the ruling Communist Party: Leave us alone to have fun and we won’t challenge your right to run the country. "He is known for being a sharp critic of the government and the Establishment but he isn’t really," says Liu. Instead, she says, Han is a willing participant in a process that channels the disaffected energy of youth into consumerism. "The language in his novels and the narrative strategies are very easy to read," says Liu. "Basically it’s all the same book."

Before judging the literary value of the writer, Mrs. Liu makes a moral judgment of his rebelliousness: It is not intense enough to her taste, the issues he deals with are not sensitive enough. I think I’m not too far from the truth if I say that this summarizes the opinion of  a large part of the academic community, and by extension of mainstream Western opinion. You may have noted that Ms. Liu is an expert in literature, not in politics. But when it comes to Chinese politics, we ALL know better than them.

Hecaitou’s blog also posted the interview and we can see some Chinese discuss it among themselves. Allowing for the odd troll, it is a fairly balanced discussion, as expected from an intelligent Chinese forum when they don’t feel observed by Western eyes. Perhaps the 2 most significant comments, that give an idea of the atmosphere, are:

- Compared to those who were criminalized for speaking, Han Han has no courage. He only teases, doesn’t dare to speak about the system.

- You mean, he needs to be a martyr? To fight for your rights, even if it is just a bit, to obtain awareness of citizen dignity, all these are matters that require someone to capture them. To be able to speak from within and disintegrate this system, that is the real master.

A large part of the misunderstandings between East and West come from the unreasonable expectations we have of each other. In particular, Western opinion expects of Chinese public figures to fight heroically and even suicidally against their own government. The Chinese political system is so evil, the logic goes, that any public person worthy of our attention should be dedicated to fighting it.

Now, I am the first who thinks China needs political change and respect of human rights, and I greatly admire the courage of some dissidents. But real heroes should be voluntary, like Mother Theresa, and no amount of public pressure can ever create one. Even less foreign public pressure.

In case I have some naïf reader, it is just as well to inform you here that Western policies are as arbitrary and cruel in the international scene as the CCP’s are accused of being in China. And both are equally full of good intentions. Why don’t we apply the same standards with our own public figures?  Do we require of our writers to fight the system? Have they signed a compact to drive us into a consumerist slumber instead of protesting against injustice in the World?

We don’t do that. We act just like the Chinese, satisfying ourselves with he thought that “The World is unfair, but with a bit of patience and faith in the system, it will eventually become a better place”. Substitute “The World” with “China” and you have the mainstream Chinese thought.

“Hypocrisy”, I was going to write. But I don’t think it’s even that. It is simple closed-mindedness,  the inability to see things from the other side.

The story reminds me of what my friend, a doctor back in Spain, told me when I went home last Summer: “We are all going to catch it in the hospital, and chances are you’ll catch it too. Get done with it as soon as possible and you’ll be fine for the season”. That pretty much summarized the feeling in her hospital.

These last months, the H1N1 and the swine flu have been used as biological weapons of debate, often to prove the superiority of some political systems over others. The truth is that the Chinese approach was in principle no better or worse than the Western one, and what it lacked in flexibility, it had in effectiveness—after all, the virus could have evolved into something more nasty.

But the real problem is not that. What we should be asking our politicians—and that includes all the countries—is that they get together and agree on a common strategy against virus. Because some day the Big Plague is bound to come, and when this happens humanity had better learned to face it united.

So from here, I prescribe for all the politicians a prophylactic shot of common sense, and I wish a speedy recovery to Andrew.

(h/t to ESWN)

But the surprise came when we went to town for lunch, and I found out that the river that flowed into the Yangtze at that point was called the Wu. I hadn’t realized before, because the industrial park takes a different name, but sure enough, our client confirmed this point: we were in the riverside town of Fuling.

If you have read the classic China book “River Town”, you know why I was so thrilled. If you have not, then go and get it now. Since you are reading my blog, chances are you are one of those crazy Westerners that seek to understand the Chinese. This books explains them all for you, and in the process it gives you a rare glimpse into the life of inland China. It is fascinating, especially if you don’t live in the country already.

The Book

I am taking this chance to do a little review of River Town, so I can start to catch up with my old plans of running a book reviews section. Considering this book is relatively old and already well known, I will just stick to the main points and try to keep this post reasonable.

The story is very simple, it tells the experiences and feelings of the author during his 2 year stay as Peace Corps in Fuling, a third tier town on the Yangtze.  Nothing really happens, except that it is inland China in the 90s, and everything happens. The book is enjoyable from the beginning, almost every page right to the end.

Here are the key points as promised:

- Very enjoyable natural writing, with vivid descriptions of the places and the people. One of the best examples I know of literature meeting anthropology. Memorable is the description of the Fuling streets and their “stick-stick soldiers” in the initial chapters.

- The author is a fine observer, and he has the advantage of direct access to his students, who write down for him their opinions about a variety of subjects. One of the main highlights of the book is the contrast between the Fuling and the Western mentality, expressed on the background of the classics of English literature.

- For the sake of balance, some points I liked less: towards the end the  book looses some strength (not surprising, after the great first half). The scientific detachment of the author can become a bit exasperating, and sometimes it feels like the anthropologist has taken over the writer. The last dramatic scene with the mob doesn’t help to fix this, and I couldn’t help feeling that it was an unnecessary addition. But then, that is only my opinion, and I was never in Fuling in the 90s.

The River Town

From what I have seen today, the town of Fuling is doing pretty well, changing so fast that it is almost impossible to recognize it in the descriptions of the book. For one thing, it took us less than an hour to get there from the center of Chongqing, which qualifies it as a close suburb. This is in great contrast with the backwater river town of the 90s.

Now the Fulingers are going to have some World class production facilities, and a good part of the population will be working there, with thousands more coming from all over China. It feels strange to realize suddenly that I have become myself one of the characters (although a very secondary one) in the story of the transformation of Fuling.

There seems to be only one thing eternal in China, and that is the masses of the working people, the “laobaixing”. Sure enough, the stick-stick soldiers are still there and in good shape, running up and down the stairs with massive loads hanging from their bamboo poles. For them, nothing has changed.

The story that sparked the debate this time is that of Lou Jing, a Chinese half black participant in a TV talent show who has been the object of racist remarks on the internet. I don’t think this is in itself significant, netizens of all countries are well known to post outrageous comments that they would never utter in real life. But quite apart from that, it is clear that there is a particular attitude to race in China that shocks many in the West, and this bears some reflection.

Because it is not just immature netizens, but also respected people with names and surnames who support jokes like this, or write comments like this. Of course, in many cases what we see is just a visceral reaction to accusations coming from the West. It is ironic and surely annoying  for many Chinese to think that, even in a field where China has always fared better than them, the arrogant, patronizing Westerners still feel justified to give them public lessons.

But after the first wave of heated comments has passed from both sides, it is worthwhile to look at things calmly, and see what is the reality behind these misunderstandings. And the reality is that it is all too common in China to hear such statements as “Uyghurs are dangerous” or “Africans are less intelligent”, or even, surprisingly enough, “whites are more capable than Asian”. All of them rather startling comments to a Western ear, but which Chinese never ascribe to racism.

In fact, most seem to follow the simple logic: “there is no problem in China because, unlike Westerners, Chinese are not racist”. This idea clearly comes from the fact that the large majority of Chinese have no experience with different races other than the studio material produced by the propaganda department, where nations are smiling children in colourful costumes. And behind it all is the “Union of the Peoples” inherited from the communist doctrine, which still stands on what might be described as the center of the country:

Mao: “For the union of the peoples of the World, hurrah”

I am not implying that this communist ideal was not sincere. It was, and it probably still is for many people. The problem is that, while some decades ago this surely was in the vanguard of tolerance and respect, in the globalizing World of today it just doesn’t cut it anymore.

Because sure enough, the Chinese are right to say that it is not for Westerners to dictate acceptable racial attitudes. But neither is this a prerogative of the Han. Ultimately it is the peoples that feel discriminated, be it Africans or Uyghurs, who should  have a major say. For in any dispute, it is not the offending, but the offended party who decides (within some reasonable limits) what words or attitudes are insulting.

Ultimately, the development of new racial attitudes in China will have important consequences for the whole World, and in particular for its own national interests. The process is still in its initial steps, but already some key challenges are apparent: internally, as more minorities are questioning their treatment by the Han; and externally, as China tries to expand its influence in strategic regions like Africa and South America. All the soft power obtained in these areas will be worthless if the Chinese fail to show convincing respect to the peoples living there.

And again, is China racist?

So is there really a problem, and if so, what can be done to solve it? As some Chinese would have it: Is it wrong just because we say that Asians are better at math and black Americans better at basketball? In other words, is China racist?

From my own observation, China is in essence no more racist than most other countries. Which is to say, very much indeed. Because that is how most of the World is today, and how it has always been. If there is a notable difference between China and the West, it is just one of appearance: we are better at hiding our prejudice.

Indeed, in the West we censor ourselves to a point that it is hardly even acceptable to ask questions like the one in italics, which boils down to: “Do different races have on average different sets of skills?” The non-prudish answer to this is obviously yes, as can be learned from simple observation. Different races, just like different genders, tend to have slightly different characteristics, and this diversity has never been a problem for honest, open minded people, but rather the opposite.

The problem comes when obtuse individuals choose to focus partially on these differences, and then theorize them in a way as to satisfiy some low psychological needs. And at times such individuals have even convinced enough people to be able to rule their country, invariably leading it to ruin and to shame. From old Sparta to imperial Japan, history shows that short-sighted ideas of ethnic purity do not yield best results, groups based on those premises consistently falling behind the creative power of diverse societies.

So, knowing that in every country the obtuse are legion, what has the West done to prevent those outbreaks which oppose diversity and “brought untold sorrow to mankind”? Recognizing that human stupidity knows no bounds and cannot be eliminated, Western societies have instead learnt to sweep it under the carpet. And in an amazingly short period of time, in the second half of the XX century, they have developed a series of norms to regulate speech, enforcing them through the power of the socially acceptable. This non-written code, derisively known as PC, ensures that individuals can remain as prejudiced as ever, but will refrain from making it public, or else face social exclusion.

In the meantime, China’s insular society has never really felt up to now the need to develop these restraints, and so its racial prejudice is able to run free in conversation, shocking the sensitive ears of the occasional foreigner, and earning little goodwill from the peoples they are supposed to befriend.

Should China follow the West?

There is a natural resistance from the Chinese to adopt any kind of PC solution, mostly because they don’t feel the problems described apply to them: in the history of racist madness, they were mostly on the receiving end. And it is fair to say that, as a people, Chinese have always been one of the most tolerant, accepting different religions and cultures at a time when their counterparts in the West were already going berserk to eliminate the infidel. Why would such a civilized society need to apply the same rigid standards of restraint as the wild West?

It should not, in my opinion, and China is right to ignore upfront many of the Western over-reactions. In a healthy community there is nothing essentially wrong with calling a black “black” or a yellow “yellow”, like Chinese and other peoples do. The complex, guilt-ridden American style PC is best suited for the conditions of that particular country, and should not be forced onto the Chinese.

But this is not to say that the system should not be improved. From my observation of some of the affected communities in China, it looks like the present state of affairs is far from ideal. Chinese should work to modernize their rusty, communist era conceptions and little by little come up with a more realistic, more equal and less condescending racial attitude that will be key for the success of the coming challenges, internal and external. And the State alone cannot undertake this modernization. Like in the West, it is society at large, with its authors, and celebrities,  and other public role models that should join in the effort.

Chinese have a golden opportunity now to build their racial attitudes starting almost from scratch, from intelligence and generosity rather than from guilt, and to regain the image of tolerance and good sense in international relations that their country has deserved.

The event was announced – and recommended – on the Shanghaiist calendar, so I thought I’d get there a bit earlier to catch a seat before the masses arrived. Actually, apart from the collection of smiling ladies with cups of tea that populate all these literary events, the attendance was pretty moderate. It came as a shock to me, but I suppose not everyone is interested in fascinating expat stories that happened 100 years ago.

Too bad for them. The evening went really smooth, with a bit of blues by the big man Earnshaw, great atmosphere and free drinks just for showing up. But what I enjoyed most were the two presentation speeches. If you have been to literary festivals you know how boring these things can get: people who can write are not necessarily good speakers, more often than not they are timid individuals who find themselves forced to deliver hour-long speeches, and they take ample revenge by boring the public to the marrow.

This time it was different. The presentations were brief, well prepared and yet spontaneous, and with their repertoire of pirates and big-eared gangsters they managed to catch our ear. Suffice to say that I ended up buying both, in spite of my firm resolution to not bring any more new books to my home on the verge of collapse. But let’s have a look at the babies:

The author of this book, Yvette Ho Madany, is originally from Shanghai, and she draws from her family connections and from her own research to guide us in a series of story-walks around the city. She told us the tragic life of Mrs. Dong and the spicy beginnings of the JinJiang hotel. A must-read and must-walk.

Expat intelligentsia hero Paul French spoke for the original author Mr.Lilius, who was unable to attend, presumably due to his demise in 1977. Mr. French gave us a well-rounded speech with some good pirate jokes and enough teasers to make me run to the stalls and get the product. Then, like usual, he scolded us for being XX century citizens and paying attention to the GDP instead of to Pirate Queens, and if you ask me he was damn right on that one, arr!

The reading List

Now, I know what you are thinking and you are right: I am brazenly posting a Book Review post when I haven’t read a page of the books in question. I sold my soul for a free glass of Chinese red wine and some good vibes, I admit it. But frankly speaking, the efforts of Earnshaw to bring us of those old gems, first on his website and then on fine quality paper editions, deserve already all my praise. And let’s not forget that I owe them the discovery of the inimitable Carl Crow.

As for these 2 new books, I will read them and I will walk them, and I promise I will get back to this post and update it with my frightful reviews.

On a side note: These last 3 months I have dedicated an absurd proportion of my free time to reading in Chinese. I have just finished my third novel, and I am very proud of that, but in the meantime normal reading has been on hold, and the List has got completely out of control. I am afraid I will not catch up with myself before the Summer holidays. More about my experiments on Chinese reading in coming chapters.

Today for example, I completely panicked when I stumbled into one of the bugs of wordpress. For some reason, when you add a “click to read more” tag next to a section in bold, it goes and turns the whole blog to bold, including sidebar, titles and header. So yes, I think I have gone bold for a few hours,  but it was not intended. I hope I didn’t hurt any feelings.

The Goose Huggers

But this bolding effect is nothing compared to the vicious attack that this blog is suffering from an international band of Goose Huggers. 

I have been wondering for a while what is going on with my Goose post. It is attracting more clicking action than anything else around here, and by now it has become already the most popular of my posts. 

An embarrassing situation altogether, because, much as I am proud of my gaggling skills, I always fancied this post does not reach the heights of my otherwise highbrow blog. What will new visitors think? 

These days I have been spending some time  in the control room, tinkering a bit with my layout, and I’ve taken the chance to look into this perplexing phenomenon. There is not a single link on the internet to this post, and I have found out it is the image of the Goose that attracts all the hits. Perverts, I should have known.

Unfortunately, these rascals leave no trace of their dirty deeds, as they are coming from Google image search, so the incoming stats don’t show which is the search string in this case. But I would appreciate it if someone can give me a hint to find out why this simple image of a naked mother goose is getting so much attention.

The Books

And finally, in case you are wondering what has changed after all this tinkering. I have added a new book review section with the covers of the books on the sidebar, and I have taken the chance to go commercial with amazon. But fear not, this is for a good cause, and I am not abandoning my revolutionary principles to walk the road of capitalism. Amazon does not give me any money for this, but instead it gives me points to get discounts on their books. Considering the monthly expenses for books in this house, I am afraid this was a necessary measure.

Apart from this, I have decided to shift the attention of the blog from economy into literature. Most of my posts up to now have dealt with Crisis Watching, contributing no little to the general confusion of the Chinese internet. I will continue writing about that once in a while, but I think I can offer a more valuable contribution dealing with books. And even if my book reviews may be nothing to write home about, I am happy to bring to the people some interesting pieces that are far from amazon’s best sellers lists and might otherwise go unnoticed.

I take pleasure in reviewing books. It gives you a strange feeling of power when you can judge in a few paragraphs the hard work that a writer has taken months to complete. When I write about a book it is because I like it, so whatever I say,  you can take it as a recommendation. I admire all the writers  I review, and I hope I can be fair with them.

You might be familiar by now with Blacksmith books of Hong Kong –  the same Blacksmith that did the Asian edition of Apologies and other gems like King Hui and Business Republic. I am, and I have come to expect good surprises from them;  many things can be said of their books, but surely not “hackneyed” or “banal”. Pete Spurrier, the man behind the company, is not afraid to go with first-time authors, and he seems to have a knack to find intriguing writers with original points of view. Jonathan Chamberlain is perhaps his best find.

Indeed, in terms of surprises, this book delivers from the preface.  First, you discover it was actually written and self-published by Chamberlain 30 years ago, inspired by a series of painted glass figures he collected from local markets. It goes on to describe an unusual interview in Bangkok with British mystical writer John Blofeld, a reference in Asian religions, who agreed to give the book a prologue in articulo mortis. And then suddenly, before you realize it, you are swimming in the thick soup of China’s beliefs, following the author in his daring quest to make sense of  all the Gods.

The book

Most books I have seen about Chinese religions are centred on the three main systems: Confucianism, Taoism and Buddhism, often giving an interpretation of present behaviours in the light of the teachings of the sages. From the outset, this book is radically different: it holds that, for the majority of the Chinese, there has never been more than one unnamed religion,  which absorbed all the other masters and deities  - including, in some extreme cases, Jesus Christ and Muhammad (!). Based on this premise, the author explores the main aspects of this religion, analyzing the ways in which it created its Gods, and explaining these Gods as a projection of the Chinese society rather than the opposite. 

The book is divided into two clearly differentiated parts:

The first part is the one properly dedicated to making sense of it all. We see how the Dao De Jing and the teachings of Confucius (which obviously have, as philosophies, an existence of their own) were absorbed by the popular religion, the masters deified and given attributes that they surely never asked for in life. Buddhism is a slightly different story, as it was already a religion before it came to China. But, as the author explains and illustrates with examples, in the imagination of the people, the buddhist Gods were little more than a colorful addition to the already overpopulated pantheon of China.  

And what is this original, “untheologised religion” that predated and absorbed all the others? It consists of a series of very ancient beliefs, at the core of which is the worship of ancestors and the parallel worlds of the living and the dead. And it created its Gods through a double process of deifying existing humans and inventing human lives for adopted deities, thereby preserving the connection between the two worlds. This process usually happened first at the popular level and later received the sanction of the Emperor, who would liberally endow the new God with supernatural powers and appoint him to an official position in the complex bureaucracy of the Chinese heavens. 

The second part takes the form of a handbook, with twelve chapters dedicated each to one different God. It starts with the ubiquitous Guan Yu, and it includes some fairly rare specimens that I had never heard of before. Each chapter explains the origins of the God and its main attributes, and all include large colour pictures of the original glass figures that inspired the book.  This is, of course, only a tiny part of all the existing Gods, but it works well to get the general picture.

It is easy to get lost in the chaos of the characters’ lives and deaths, and I wouldn’t recommend any sane person to read all these chapters in one go. Rather, I read separate portions now and then and I am keeping this section as a guide book, with an eye to impressing the locals in our next temple visit.  Not that this would impress them much: as the author notes, the Chinese exhibit an incurious acceptance of their Gods. “They are to be worshipped. The rest is superfluous.”

My conclusions

Jonathan Chamberlain can write, this is hardly news after what we have read of him lately. Judging by this book, the good news is that 30 years ago he could write just as well. His prose is intelligent and fluent, no objection here. But this being an essay, and dealing with subjects that are – on account of the shortage of university research – close to the forefront of knowledge, one might want to ask how scientific his methods are, and how much value to give to his conclusions.

There is a general sense of chaos around this book.  Chamberlain’s narrative is logical enough, but there are still some points where you want to go back and restart from zero to see whatever happened to make you feel so lost. To be fair, it is not an easy subject to deal with. Gods have many names, and names have many Gods, and Gods share and copy cheerfully from each other’s lives.

To give just one example:  in Chun Kuei’s chapter we learn that he failed the public examinations and committed suicide on the steps of the Imperial Palace, eventually being appointed to serve as God in the Heavenly Ministry of Exorcism. Three pages later, in a different account, the same Chun Kuei is a brilliant scholar who passed first in the official examinations and grows to become the God of Literature. 

Perhaps the my real objection is the lack of a rigourous method.  Some of the deductions sound a bit on the wonkish side, like the various times where the parts of a Chinese character are analyzed separately for their meaning, ignoring that often components have a phonetic rather than a semantic value. More important, in my opinion, is the almost total lack of citations, which makes it impossible to discern which ideas are set forth by the author and which are already in the mainstream of research. 

Fortunately, the few references given in the text work do back the main ideas,  and the underlying hypothesis -that there is only one religion for the Chinese people- is endorsed in the prologue by a figure like J.Blofeld.  In addition, the author seems to take his own character parallels with a pinch of salt, and important conclusions reached in the book are mostly drawn from well-reasoned and well-grounded paragraphs that sound convincing enough.

In conclusion, this book has earned a place on my recommends shelf. If nothing else, because it is the first one to give me a simple, rational explanation for the coexistence of all those Chinese Gods. Having said this, I declare myself perfectly incompetent in the field of religion, and if any reader wants to raise an issue or point me to a book with alternative theories, I will be glad to mention it here as well.

The Time

Economies don’t grow indefinitely.  Low cycles follow high cycles and after 30 years it is about time. China cannot break the laws of economics, so the recession must necessarily come in the next X years. The country hasn’t prepared itself politically and psicologically to face this period. In the end, we are sure to have trouble.

Of course, this argument is of little value without the X, and many proponents of a time limit have failed in the past. This is the field of technical analysts and other mystical thinkers. Mythology also plays a role:  In Chinese history, cataclysms mark the end of a cycle. An earthquake preceded this crisis, and a solar eclipse is coming in July, the dynasty has lost its virtue. These arguments tend to work better with a bit of hindsight.

The Markets

The World’s economies are interdependent today. China’s economy is largely dependent on exports and FDI. The weight of these external factors in China’s growth has been much discussed, but regardless of the exact numbers, few doubt that it is a significant motor of the economy. External motors failing, China turns to internal ones: investment and consumption. Today, strong public investment, mostly in infrastructure and energy, is making up for the loss.

But infrastructure on its own does not move an economy, an empty highway is dead weight. Its value lies in the economic activities that are created or improved by using it, and those activities need markets to get them going in the long term. Optimists have pointed out that the crisis might turn developed economies to cheaper products, but international markets are saturated with cheap Chinese wares, and the latest news are discouraging. This leaves the Chinese consumer.

The People

Since the urban consumer was already developing at full speed, it is to the masses of Chinese peasants that all the eyes turned when a new market was needed to replace the failing exports. The peasants had been left out of the economic miracle, and measures were announced to get them back in.  But few of those social measures have materialized in any significant way, and the government seems to realize that this is a long term effort, not to be mistaken with an emergency financial package.

 Chinese peasants don’t like to spend money. They like to save it.  Some argue this is an immutable principle of a post-confucian society, others attribute it to the lack of “safety nets”, such as  health care plans, and the fact that poverty is still seen as a very real option.  Perhaps Chinese have too much common sense, and in the face of all evidence, they continue to act as if working hard and being thrifty will make you richer.

Meanwhile, the optimists of internal consumption see hope in the low-tier cities, the segments of the population that have already abandoned the peasant lifestyle, but still have a long way to reach East Coast level. 

The Government

China’s authoritarian system has some advantages over Western systems. The executive can take strong, quick measures unhindered by parliament debate and popularity surveys. A good example is the stimulus package. China was the first major country to announce it, and it is has been the biggest  relative to the size of the economy. Government technocrats tend to know more of economics than voters.

But some see in the system the seeds of disaster. The Son of Heaven is human, and bound to the wheel of favours, factions, patrons and clients. The lack of checks and balances makes it easy  for personal interests to take precedence over the common good. Some have a stake in the stock market, others in real estate, there are ways to pump up these markets with the connivance of Beijing. One day they might all decide it is time to cash in, and the rest of the population will be caught by surprise, watcing the CCTV report with the 8% growth spreadsheet. Lack of transparency usually works well to bubble up crises. 

The Package

China has a good package, timely and sizable. Few doubt now that it has delivered the desired stimuli. The thrust in infrastructure and energy investment is spilling its effects over the rest of the economy, and the feared legions of the unemployed are still nowhere to be seen today. 

But the package can only be a temporary patch, as we have seen above, and its function is just to cover the gap until the economy gets back to normal. In the meantime, the investments should be preparing the path for the return of sustainable growth.

Optimists point at the positive parts of the package, such as social measures, education, or development of new sectors of the economy in biotech or renewable energies. Pessimists note that the bulk of the package is actually flowing into very few sectors related to heavy construction, and this will cause unbalances and excess capacities the minute the financial tap is turned off.  In their view, the package is just postponing/aggravating the consequences. Some mention the devastating and unpredictable specter of deflation.

The Chest

China has also a nice chest. It is a war chest, and it is full of foreign-exchange reserves denominated in dollars. Optimists and lovers of logic alike see salvation in these reserves. They like to point out that China has room to go on with its package for a long time, thanks to all the years that the country has spent saving saving money and acting as “Americas banker”.

From a plain logical point of view, this makes sense, but unfortunately financial logic is anything but plain. The specialists in the area are quick to remind us that these reserves are not unencumbered wealth, and not free for the government to use. The central and provincial governments finances are already under stress, and the banking system is channeling all financial resources to the package SOEs, with the consequence of drying up available finance for other sectors of the economy.

The Riots

One of the main subjects in the Crisis discussions has been the possibility of large scale riots caused by unemployment. These riots could have the effect of destabilizing the system, with consequences in politics as well as in the economy. Perhaps because of the political derivations, unemployment has attracted a lot of attention from Western observers. Around the turn of the year, when the Western Christmas season was over and many semi-seasonal workshops were closing, the discussion reached the peak of popularity.

But the package has kicked in, and for the moment unemployment doesn’t show signs of getting out of control. The riots have increased in number, but they remain essentially local in nature, directed to claim arrears from a particular company, or against local authorities. There is a climate of relative optimism among the Chinese, and it looks like the the propaganda package that came with the financial one is having the desired soothing effects.

Inflation/Deflation

Predictably, another high point will come when the investment package is left behind, or when the financial situation makes it unsustainable to continue pushing it. At this point, we might see more passionating discussions, with the added appeal of possible deflation risks. 

Inflation has historically been a major cause of riots and wars, so a logical mind would assume that its opposite -deflation- has opposite effects, forcing everyone to stay in at home reading self-improvement books and drinking green tea. I doubt very much the economists will let us get away with this theory. In the meantime, I will stay tuned to the blogosphere for any interesting development to add to this list.

Over the weekend I spoke with a few friends about the book and I could  feel some resistance. Some China hands clearly disapproved of the cover’s pop approach to a grave subject like the Middle Kingdom – a friend of mine from New York even warned me against what looked like “an East Village poser”.  All this probably explains why the few  who had actually read the book were so excited about it:  they weren’t expecting it to be readable in the first place.

Not having any kind of prejudice against pop illustrated covers, I found the price tag fair and the promise of a fresh perspective on China exciting enough to give it a try.  Here’s the results.

The best

There are some very good points.  First of all, like the author claims in his foreword, this books tells about an aspect of China that is neglected by most of the China books. These typically divide the Chinese population in two categories: peasants and citizens, forgetting that somewhere in the middle there is a no man’s land populated by strange, colourful characters: the underground world of the unadapted.  Artists, gangsters and other creatures that Zach Mexico, with obvious communication skills, brings to us from a street level perspective.

As should be expected from a work of its kind, Zach’s writing flows. Its short paragraphs take you swiftly through a succession of anecdotes and conversations, intertwined with little bits of analysis. Here the author doesn’t judge, he just tries to explain. An analysis part that is rather light, but it has the virtue of adding some necessary background without breaking the rhythm. This is precisely another strength of the book: it consistently beats the “curse of knowledge”, stopping briefly every now and then to provide some basic information on China, and thus making it useful for uninitiated Western readers.

The book feels like it has been arranged to captivate the reader.  One of the best and most balanced chapter is the first, where we see the daily tragedy of workers and miners in the North East through the eyes of a grassroot photographer.  It is followed by a well dramatized episode with the Qingdao mafia, and an eyecatching -albeit weaker – one about prostitution. Follow a series on artists and bohemians, the best of which are probably the musician chapters, like the one about the Wuhan punks who sing political lyrics in unintelligible Chinglish. It is clearly in this field that the author feels most confortable.

The weaker points

On the weak side, many will probably point at some imprecisions in the book. This is obviously not meant to be a reference work, but perhaps it could have used some more attention to check obvious errors,  like Uygur language as a variant of arabic. As a whole however, the general background  about China is -if unoriginal- pretty accurate, as mainstream China books go.

A more important flaw in my opinion is the somewhat irregular quality of the chapters. Some parts of the book, like the one about the Qinghua University student, are so shallow and out of place that one wonders why they were even included in the final edition. Maybe they were just an attempt to give a more comprehensive view of China, working  in contrast with the gangster chapters — a good idea, but clearly some more field work was needed.

Finally, some instances of misplaced self-consciousness, like in the chapter of the prostitute, render the author’s presence somewhat obstructive. Perhaps the best example of this weak side is the chapter about “the Most polluted city in China”. The author visits Linfen only to run away immediately with the excuse that his throat is sore and the noodles taste bad, failing to interview any relevant person there. Self sacrifice is clearly not in Zach’s agenda, and this chapter can disappoint even the hippest of East Village hipsters.

The bottom line

This is an enjoyable read by a promising new author, which delivers this China book rarity:  a different perspective on the country, together with glimpses into an intense expat experience. Zach is a talented writer,  likeable in print and in speech, as we saw in the literary festival. If he is serious about writing China we should see some good stuff coming in the near future.

For the moment I keep my hard-earned status of fastest fan, and I recommend this book to anyone who wants to enjoy a good read and taste a different side of China.