I sit on my bed at around 8:30 pm, wondering why, after devouring my nightly dark chocolate, there is still a nagging restlessness tugging somewhere deep within my stomach. And then it hits me— that old blog I used to write.
The thing is, this post was meant to be published right after the Mid-Autumn Festival last week, when I took a stroll from my apartment down to the oceanfront to snap a few photographs of the full moon. The walk turned out to be much longer than expected, and on the way, I had plenty of time to ponder just how ridiculous China would appear in the eyes of sane aliens. I say aliens because well, humans are exposed to far too many headlines related to China’s “booming economy and development” that we are essentially numb to the idea that construction in China is at all noteworthy. Yet perhaps the following account will cause some to stop and see the reality that is currently striking China as we speak, and striking hard.

Alright, this first photo’s no big deal, right, just more construction of a building that will soon block my once heavenly-like view of the Hong Kong mountains. Every morning at 6 am, the buzz from this construction project reminds me that all good things must slowly come to an end, level by level, beam by beam. It’s actually been one of the slowest, most dramatic experiences I can remember, but moving on…

Three BMWs sitting in a row; would be more, but my camera lack flo’. Truth is, this whole complex is wealthier than one can fathom. If not BMW then we have Rolls-Royce or Mercedes-Benz. Toyotas put their tails between their legs and called it a day long ago in this town. Saving on gas? Pshhh, c’mon, it’s showtime.

Here is a lovely real estate advertisement for a property in this area. 11,500,000 Chinese Yuan for a four bedroom, two living room, 176 square meter apartment. That’s one million, 800 thousand US dollars. (1,879,330.00 USD) 

Here it is, folks: the waterway leading to the ocean that lures all the big shots into wasting their money on mounds of concrete in exchange for a place to call home. Something like an Erie Canal equivalent, but here, it’s worth more than gold.

The above is another view of the walkway leading to the ocean, with Hong Kong mountains in the distance. I usually run along this path in the mornings, whenever I get around to it. You know.

A’ight. So modern China is all about liberal economic policies and “socialism with Chinese characteristics” (a phrase that is so overused and misunderstood it makes me sick). Front page news today was that Shanghai announced plans of allowing Facebook access in the hope of “making foreigners feel more at home”. Well that’s nice. One thing China can’t seem to give up, however, is its obsession with “be-good” signs. I invented this term while writing the previous sentence, but I think it’s a great catch-all translation. See, since the founding of the PRC on October 1st, 1949 (remember to celebrate National Day next Tuesday!) promotional, inspirational, and instructional slogans or banners have worked to unify and harmonize the 56 ethnic groups that make up the enormous, diverse country of China. Hung in schools, offices, dance studios, construction sites, subways, bus stops, and even on crumbling brick walls in the middle of God-knows-where (like what I saw in Ningxia), these colorful “be-good” signs are relentless. Whenever I raise my head above my personal headphone-cell phone-thought consumed bubble to read the signs and actually register their meanings, I’m struck with immense guilt at my failure to, well, “be-good”. The phrases on the signs relate to everything: one’s study habits, family relationship, personal hygiene, work ethic, moral behavior, citizenship, and even environmentally-friendly habits, which I’ll get to in a moment. The sign in the photograph above reads, “劳动” or “labor”. The side characters translate: “Chinese energy; Chinese image, Chinese culture; Chinese expression”. The bottom line, “最美的旋律” translates “the most beautiful melody”. In a sense, China is encouraging its people to believe that “labor” is a uniquely Chinese cultural element to be proud of. As I walked by the sign, situated perfectly in front of a massive construction site, I couldn’t help but wonder how labor could make China proud when most citizens I speak with can’t wait for factories to move OUT of China— to less-developed countries with even lower costs of labor. Sure, China’s 劳动力 or “labor power” is huge because of its large population, making it difficult for the country to progress from a primarily industrial economy to a service-oriented economy, yet apparently, Chinese should be proud of this fact… or at least learn to accept the reality while it’s happening.

“A drop of sweat is worth a piece of grain.” There is also a short poem by the bottom right, written by someone with the same name as one of my coworkers: “一日不吃饿得慌, 一季不收饿断肠。手拍胸膛想一想，节约粮食理应当。” The poem in Chinese rhymes quite cleverly, but the English is intriguing enough without rhyme: “Don’t eat for a day and you’ll be nervously hungry; don’t harvest for a season and you’ll be devastated by hunger. Beat your chest and think for a moment; economize food as you should.”
And the last one (well, last “be-good” sign featured here, there are over 20 different slogans along that particular road): “地球只有一个：There is only one Earth.” The bottom part reads: “Protect the environment; it starts with me”. I really like this sign. I think it’s great that China tries to spread positive behavior via reminders on large billboard-like signs. It’s better than private advertising, right? Just a bit contradictory, again, given all the construction in the background.
The above is a photograph of construction workers’ temporary dorms set up during the duration of a project. Most are required to live in close proximity to construction sites, as the work day usually spans from 6am-10pm and doesn’t pay well enough to enable workers to afford transportation for a daily commute. These workers toil under the hot Shenzhen sun every single day (save the holiday last week, though I did catch one man climbing the rafters in the afternoon). I sometimes watch them from my window, moving back and forth like little lemmings on a mission. During my morning runs, I always find a group of construction workers having breakfast together on the street— fried egg tortillas and cartons of soy milk. They chat happily, and I always look forward to running past that corner, letting the rich aroma of freshly-cooked eggs and hot sauce overwhelm my morning senses.
On my walk to the ocean shore during the Mid-Autumn Festival, I noticed some construction workers walking along too, sharing the night with coworkers and friends, unable to make a trip home.

 “Expect Sunny Seaside”. Still under construction, one shouldn’t only expect sun but should look forward to apartments sold for over 2 million US dollars. I really wonder what the construction workers think when they walk by Shenzhen’s real estate price advertisements. I mean, an Ivy-League college grad is doing well to buy a house for $300,000, right? But 2 million? What the hell is the world coming to? These are not mansions, these are 175 square-meter APARTMENTS. This is a world that seems functional only in dream.
The next photos show the “irresistible” oceanfront view that is supposedly the cause of such high housing prices— I’ll let readers decide whether China’s facing a real-estate bubble or not.

Whew, finally made it to the full moon pics. Here’s Shenzhen Bay Park at dusk, when dozens of families came to enjoy the night together under the round, warm light of the moon. The bridge in the photo above leads straight to Hong Kong, and the view of the mountains (not visible in this photo) is incredible.
That night, walking back home, everything felt a bit jumbled. The full moon seemed to be creating a kind of “eye of the storm” optical illusion, in which the pure insanity of China’s development stopped for 24 hours while everyone enjoyed the holiday break together. At Shenzhen Bay Park, I watched as the families living in million-dollar high-rises stood side by side with construction workers under one full moon, looking up. The tradition weaved into a country hanging by the threads of a unifying nationalism may be fading under the spotlights of construction sites while modernity, materialism, and money flash like disco lights on the horizon, but on that night by the waterfront, watching a sea of dark heads bob together in unified awe, it sure felt like the moon shone brightest of all.

The photograph above depicts a series of stone tablets in Shawan Ancient Village (沙湾古镇) erected during the Ming Dynasty (1368–1644). The 9-foot monuments were placed in the town square to commemorate the high marks of local citizens who participated in the Imperial Examination. With its first debut during the Sui Dynasty around 605, the Chinese Imperial Exam became the primary means by which administrative officials were elected to serve in the state bureaucracy. For those who may have lacked an interest in politics, the exam was also a way to improve one’s status in society— no matter how poor of a background a man came from, his level of intellect as demonstrated by his performance on the examination could win him respect and honor within his local community or even the nation at large. The Imperial Examination witnessed various alterations throughout each dynastic period but remained the primary means for social mobility until its termination in 1905.

By the time of the Ming Dynasty, the tests generally lasted between 24 and 72 hours. Test-takers sat in isolated examination rooms where they re-wrote entire ancient texts and poems from memory. The content of the test initially included the “Six Arts”– arts, music, arithmetic, writing, and knowledge of the rituals and ceremonies in both public and private life— before expanding to include the “5 Studies”— military strategy, civil law, revenue and taxation, agriculture and geography, and the Confucian classics. The examination content did not vary across regions and thus served to reinforce a nationwide consensus on Chinese cultural values and promoted a harmonious, unified empire. 

On average, no more than 5% of test takers scored well enough to receive titles of merit. Some men spent their entire lives in preparation only to return home time and again without a trace of recognition. The Chinese Imperial Exam is credited by historians as being the first standardized testing system in the world based solely on merit. The exam has also contributed to China’s consistent emphasis on education, which remains strikingly evident in the unparalleled respect granted to teachers in Chinese society today.

Hm.

The title of this post is misleading: no one got arrested. Quite the contrary, every security guard I saw tried not to smirk while watching the keyboardist on the left smash a perfectly good Apple flat screen computer.

I’m not going to try to categorize Chinese censorship or suggest that embracing this concert was some sort of government ploy to keep the young masses satisfied. It’s hard not to be curious though. In the end I’ve concluded the worst a bunch of indie, oversized glasses-embracing Chinese and foreigners could do would be to film a documentary that would be forbidden on the mainland anyway.

In other words, while the western alternative feel of 798 Art Zone in Beijing attracts a good number of freethinking artists, it is still far far away from even coming within sight of mainstream Chinese culture. To me, “The Creator’s Project” concert series, panels, and movie-screenings this past weekend were primarily targeted at every American and European living in a city that’s gaining acclaim but still facing an identity crisis. The event’s free concerts, programs, and alcohol weren’t provided out of kindness but by Intel and Vice Magazine’s desire to stamp their logo on a willing clean slate.

Save this one song, the Beijing band 新裤子 (“New Pants”) pictured above was actually surprisingly good. Dare I say significantly better than Major Lazer who followed. My favorite screening was Spike Jonze’s “I’m Here”- a 30 minute film you should be able to watch by going here: http://www.imheremovie.com/

Imagine this: You book a vacation with a tour agency in China hoping to save the hassle of finding transportation and hotels in a foreign city. Having heard that China’s tour guides receive no salary other than a percentage of what their tour group spends on trinkets and “extra” excursions, you’re savvy to the fact that you’ll be dragged to numerous souvenir shops only to be approached by ferocious sales associates looking to close a deal with the tour agencies and leave you with a slender wallet.

The day began with our tour guide explaining that she would take us to China’s leading company in green innovativation, “The Bamboo House”, which uses bamboo to create clothing and personal products of the utmost quality… or so they said. The woman above was our sly sales associate, who led us to a classroom where we sat and listened to an hour-long infomercial about bamboo washcloths that can repel oil and braces that use natural minerals to bring a healing warmth to sore joints. When we first arrived, my coworkers and I used a harsh skepticism to shield ourselves from the intrigue of the saleswoman’s words. However, as the minutes ticked away and we were allowed to touch and try out the products for ourselves, the wall of doubt that had previously blocked any desire to consume slowly crumbled amidst a growing perception that these truly were “one-of-a-kind” products whose value exceeded their price.

The photo above depicts one of our company’s secretaries (left), who after rolling her eyes throughout the first fifteen minutes of the presentation found herself dumbstruck and in awe of the heat she felt on the back of her neck after testing out “The Bamboo House” neck brace. One can also see the pure evil in the saleswoman’s eyes… to be discussed soon.

It’s hard to describe exactly how I felt while sitting in the classroom letting the woman’s words infiltrate my mind. It was as though my conscious was dying to give in and trust her while something in my subconscious questioned why she felt the need to emphasize the fact that “the company’s address and phone number can be found on each product, and you may return any product before 40 days if you are not fully satisfied, no questions asked!”. At one point in the presentation, another one of my coworkers turned to me and said “完了” or, “I’m finished”. He said he planned to spend at least ¥1000 on these products— gifts for his family and friends.

If my subconscious felt a bit funny during the presentation, it is nothing compared to how I felt when walking aimlessly through the store afterwards. It was like a never-ending Walmart— a maze of merchandise hanging from the ceiling to the floor and trinkets colorfully piled on tables as far as the eye could see. Hundreds of sales associates stood by, ready to pounce if they caught your eyes lingering a second too long on a particular product. After walking relatively fast through the store, I suddenly had the notion that I was walking in circles, stumbling across products that I had already seen once, twice, three times before. The stale, monotonous air suddenly made everything feel like polyester, not bamboo, and my mind spiraled into the kind of claustrophobia kids feel in clothing stores.

When I finally rounded the last corner of the store and burst through two swinging brown doors, I found myself face to face with the scene below: 
That’s right folks— store number two… another winding maze of thousands of “genuine” pearl necklaces, earrings, bracelets. It was here that I was told not to take any photos, heaven forbid somebody ever try to warn future tourists about this monstrous marketing hell.

I should say now that while these pictures may resemble a mall, the building we initially entered looked more like a modern museum or factory— sleek and white with the kind of precision that reminds one of an operating room. To discover room after room of products waiting to win one over with mysterious allure gave one the sensation of being brainwashed, though I now see that that is indeed what was happening.

Approximately two hours after entering the building, I was the first of the group to stumble drunkenly into sunlight. Hands free of packages, I looked around to see that I had fared quite well— almost 90% of other tour groups clutched shopping bags, some large some small, and everyone stood expressionless against the backdrop of the white building. The majority of tourists were retired, likely short on money to begin with but easily attracted by the “bargain” of purchasing 48 towels for ¥48 instead of one towel for ¥12.

After returning to the bus, we waited almost 30 minutes for two of our coworkers to return— one of whom was the guy who had warned me he was “finished” and planned to spend a wad of cash on what he had convinced himself were worthy products. It was then that one of my good friends handed over his cell phone with a thread of online posts about this so-called “Bamboo House” company. The following is one true account of a tourist who came before us:

公司2012年9月6日组织去桂林阳朔旅游。全公司180来号人。9月7日上午去了桂林市阳朔县葡萄镇（此地址不知道真假，而且也是产品上面最详细的地址了）里面是一个工厂，名称叫旭日集团。其商标名称为班豪斯，走进去之后是先是给我们做洗脑，讲解产品的功能。 然后带领我们去购物。购物期间是不许拍照。里面的产品有很多种。 其中负电位纳米能量杯子168元RMB ，一条内裤128RMB 一套磁疗保健护具380RMB。本人总共是花了3百多。女朋友花了7百多。公司其他同事不知道花了多少。每个人都是大包小包的买。里面的产品不知道有多少是假货。但磁疗保健护具这个东西绝对是假货，说里面是托玛琳，可是我去网上查，里面是放了辣椒素，用舌头舔很辣很辣。 脖子有点汗把这个东西贴上面三秒，拿下来，直接就辣的好痛。她说这是身体有湿气。当我发现这是假的之后，我立马下车去准备退货，结果呗导游看见了。我跟他说这是假货，他说 这是真的我做了这么多年怎么可能是假的也没有人要退货的。我也就这样相信他了。导游肯定和那边有勾当。全公司被骗有上万元了也许上十万了。。现在不知道还有多少人在我们之前或者之后被骗。现在我的小票还保留着的。 请你们一定要把这伙人端掉。 要还我们公道。赔我们的血汗钱。

Translation: “Our company went to Yangshuo, Guilin to vacation on September 6th, 2012. Our company has over 180 people total. On the 7th of September, we went to Guilin Yangshuo “Grape Village” (I’m not sure if this address is real or fake, but it’s also the address listed on the products). There was a factory inside, called “旭日集团” or “The Bamboo House”. After entering we were first brainwashed and told about each product’s use. Then they led us to shop. One is not allowed to take pictures when shopping. There were many different products inside, some of which were a magnetic mug- ¥168, a pair of underwear- ¥128, and a protective brace- ¥380. I spent over ¥300 in total, my girlfriend spent over ¥700. I don’t know how much our company’s coworkers spent in total, but everyone left with bags, big and small. I don’t know how many fake products were inside, but the magnetic brace was certainly fake. They told us the inside of the brace had tourmaline, but when I went online to check, I learned that this company actually puts hot pepper flakes inside, which are extremely hot to the tongue. Once your neck is a bit sweaty, apply the brace directly to the neck for three seconds and when you take it away, your skin will be painfully hot. Our saleswoman claimed this feeling was due to “moisture”. As soon as I went online and found out the products were fake, I immediately got out of the bus and prepared to return the products, but I was seen by our tour guide. When I told him the products were fake, he disagreed and said they were real, asking “how could they be fake when I’ve been taking people here for years and no one has ever returned the products?”. So I just believed him. That tour guide definitely has made some kind of deal with them. Our company was cheated into giving almost ¥10,000, maybe even ¥100,000. Now I don’t know how many people have been cheated in the past, but I still have the receipt from my purchase. I’m asking you all to please take these terrible people down and bring us justice. We have lost our hard-earned money.”

Yeah, so… remember when that coworker of mine started to believe them when her neck turned warm after using the special brace? Turns out it was just hot pepper flakes irritating her skin. Below are more photographs from other scheming businesses we were taken to during the same trip.

Later that day, after visiting the bedding company above, our tour guide brought us to a park. I was relieved to have the opportunity to tour and vacation instead of listening to infomercials. Towards the middle of our tour, we were led into a room and told it was used for “doing business with Taiwanese and Japanese guests”. To me, the room was far too ordinary to be used for either diplomatic meetings or high rolling businessmen, so I listened to the tour guide half-heartedly. Then a man entered saying he was from Hong Kong and told us that our tour guide had specifically asked not to take us to another shop to buy things— we had already been to far too many that day. He then invited us to watch a special ten-minute film, which he claimed would narrate the concept and importance of “feng-shui” in China, but turned out to be another obvious attempt at brainwashing/marketing. After the propaganda film ended, we were led into a room filled with Buddhist stone bracelets and told that we were “special guests” who could enjoy 50% off everything.

It was at that point— approximately our 6th experience dealing with marketers on a two-day trip— that I lost my temper. The fact that these people were lying to our faces and promising that they would not try to push us to buy more things made their marketing attempts simply insulting. I ran out into the park and told my coworker, who had long escaped outside for a smoke after the first minute of the film, that I was furious with the tourism industry in China. Had our company honestly paid money for a travel agency to make things easier for us only to empty our wallets on them again during the actual vacation? More importantly, our day literally consisted of touring two mediocre parks and suffering through four different marketing attempts.

That night, my coworkers and I vowed never again to book a vacation through a travel agency in China. It is a surprisingly lucrative business, however, even if it does happen to tug at the moral fiber of tour guides, sales associates, tourists, and the entire society as a whole. The truth is that there is rarely a truth in China— locals habitually doubt the quality of nearly everything they buy, and even the merry park-goer must question the legitimacy of a flowering tree (often times a beautiful blooming bush is the clever artistic result of plastic petals). One can say it’s just a business, but it’s hard to deny that this level of legal acceptance of fraudulent behavior will have significant repercussions on Chinese society and its reputation worldwide.

It’s the 61st Anniversary of the founding of the People’s Republic of China (National Day or  国庆节). Partayyy! That’s what it was in Tiananmen Square. Cotton candy, corn on the cob, massive floral displays, and… multi-colored plastic devil horn headbands. I have yet to discover their significance. But in essence, the mood on the square tonight resembled that of our Fourth of July. It was unfortunately (or fortunately) not the security-ridden atmosphere that I’d previously conjured up in my mind. Perhaps last year when China rounded its sixth decade the mood was a bit more conflicted, but I doubt it. All the controversial censorship, arrests, and injustices that plague the foreign press coverage on China feel like bitter annoyances when you stare into the crisp, glistening characters on two giant flat screens that illuminate messages of technological success, economic progress and a harmonious society. There is no looming sense of dissatisfaction here but one of overwhelming pride. After all, tonight’s square wasn’t empty but bustling with a smiling crowd snapping photos of their kids posing with Chinese flags and peace signs. And in the end, what’s not to be proud of? All the bad aside, because every country has its dark side, China’s unprecedented growth in the last twenty years is not to be taken lightly. Recognizing the pressures experienced in the past from both within its borders and abroad we might make rational sense not only of China’s rapid economic development but also of its political system. Of course there are many problems left to tackle here, but every citizen deserves a day to honor and rejoice in the successes of the country they live in.

Southern China welcomed my parents to its humble shores this past week, leaving them with one critical question among many: Just how many red Chinese lanterns are produced every year for the holiday? I’m waiting for their thick roll of film to be developed into hundreds of fascinating images and lots and lots of red— every hotel, home, and highway are speckled with round paper lights during the New Year. My parents have always fallen into the “adventurous” category, if there was ever reason to sum people up by adjectives, and they continued to prove their endless love for the unknown on this trip, where a sketchy taxi ride, snake shops, and raw fish found their way into my mom’s travel journal and hopefully many future conversations. Thanks for making the trip guys!

Now on to the numbers… here’s a list of stats published recently that may give you a glimpse into what life’s like for the average, decently-educated Chinese citizen over here, according to a reader’s poll conducted by 南方周末. A translation follows below:

45.94% of readers fear that their friends and family will ask about their salary when they return home for the New Year.

65.15% of readers plan to return home to their parents’ house for the New Year.

84.13% of readers don’t know that trains can’t offer meals under ¥15.

78.96% of readers chose to buy train tickets online this year.

47.05% of readers are riding a train home for the New Year.

36.59% of readers plan to watch the New Year Gala on TV this year, even if Zhao Benshan (a popular sitcom actor and director) does not participate in the performance. (There was some conflict between Zhao and the new director of the show this year, leading to Zhao’s refusal to participate.)

88.14% of readers are not optimistic about future policies directed at air pollution.

82.95% of readers do not have a sense of security.

83.04% of readers don’t know how to apply for technical training (for their career) or public employment services provided by the government.

20.05% of readers believe that the biggest change brought about by China’s accession to the WTO is the growth of career opportunities in exporting.

64.75% of readers say that they come into contact with second-hand smoke nearly every day.

70.17% of readers say that today, eating enough is not a problem, but trusting what they eat is still difficult.

72.77% of readers are busy making a living and are rarely concerned with the drafting of legislation.

I’m not sure how many readers participated in the survey… it is good to note that this newspaper is one of the more sophisticated and liberal in China, so readers tend to be well-educated and better-off than average citizens. I have no doubt that the answers are a fairly accurate representation of the general consensus in Chinese society, though how such sentiment will influence future policy is still unknown.

I’ve been trying to check out articles from one of China’s most famous (and liberal) journals lately, called《南方周末》, based in Guangzhou. The photograph above was featured in a news story I read yesterday, which discussed an international peace conference held at Tsing-hua University earlier this month. The meeting is the first of its kind to be hosted by China and marks an important development in China’s effort to secure international peace.

The article summarized China’s emphasis on supporting global harmony while acknowledging the marked differences between the East and West. What I found most fascinating, however, was a quote from a graduate student of the National University of Singapore’s East Asian Studies program, which concluded the article by stating, “Western culture is like chess–it’s a zero-sum game; Chinese culture, in contrast, is like “Go”–it’s a win-win game. Chinese culture is the world’s only secular culture– it is inclusive, which makes China’s understanding of international relations different from that of Western countries. Chinese people emphasize harmony; they have a tradition of peace.”   ( 西方文化是象棋文化，是一种零和游戏；中国文化是围棋文化，相对而言是双赢游戏。“中国文化在世界上是唯一的世俗文化，有一种包容性，使得中国人对国际关系的理解不同与美国等西方国家不同，中国人非常强调和谐，有和平的传统。” http://www.infzm.com/content/78406)

There is typically only one winner in “Go”, which makes it difficult to describe it as a “win-win” game. Still, the student’s analogy is useful in understanding the difference in strategy and approach to conflict between China and Western nations. In “Go”, one’s objective is to claim as much territory as possible, while never directly “attacking” one’s opponent (although one can capture another’s territory by surrounding it). Thus, in “Go”, one is focused primarily on improving oneself–on expanding one’s territory. In contrast, the goal of chess is to eliminate one’s opponent completely–to capture their army and crown.

From the perspective of many Western countries (as evidenced by articles in the New York Times, the Economist, and the Wall Street Journal), China’s economic rise to power illustrates its desire to be the next world superpower–to replace the current position of the United States. If Western culture is like chess, as the Singapore graduate student suggested, the West would assume that China’s goal in international relations is to eliminate its opponent completely. One glance at the headlines of the New York Times would prove that this assumption does exist in the West– that is, we fear China’s rise and see it as a direct threat to our power.

But now let’s consider the situation from China’s perspective. If we continue using the student’s analogy (which has proved reasonably accurate thus far), it’s possible to conclude that China’s goal in economic growth and territorial expansion is pursued benignly or in a relatively non-confrontational manner. If Chinese culture is like “Go”, China will be more interested in improving its own position than in directly threatening the position of its opponent. Of course, in the process of expanding its territory and influence, China will undoubtedly come into contact with its opponent, and may even “capture” its opponent’s territories merely by default of its own vast expansion. But in the end, the mind-set and overall strategy required in “Go”–Chinese culture– is less confrontational and more self-reflective than that in chess– Western culture.

Bottom line: Acknowledging fundamental differences between the perspectives of the East and West is critical in securing future international peace. If we want to accurately predict the actions of our “opponent”, we need to first recognize that we’re currently playing two entirely different games.

First ladies rock the socks off countries. Eleanor Roosevelt, Jackie Kennedy, Hillary Clinton, and Michelle Obama go down in history not for silent poise but for their relentless voice. As China welcomes a new president to lead the country through problems of poverty, pollution, and corruption, you may struggle to conjure up the face of the man who now governs almost 1.6 billion people, not to mention his wife’s. Ironically, most people first knew of President Xi Jinping as “the husband of that famous singer”, Peng Liyuan. China’s first lady just happens to be one of the most respected folk singers of her time, and undoubtedly one of the most well-known vocalists in Chinese history.

Peng first gained recognition from her performances on CCTV’s New Year’s Gala, where she almost always sang the finale, ending the show on a high note. She joined the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) vocal troop in 1980 when she was only 18— a prestigious position for any talented artist looking for a secure opportunity to develop a long-term career in the arts. Peng is often categorized as a “folk” singer to the extent that she sings about ethnic or rural Chinese themes, tuning in to the sentiments of rural citizens. She is highly respected by the Chinese populace, and is currently president of the Chinese People’s Liberation Army Institute of the Arts, one of the country’s top art universities.

President Xi and Peng Liyuan have been married for over 25 years.

This year, Peng chose to step out of the limelight as first lady and opted not to perform at the annual New Year’s Gala. As her husband trudges onto the diplomatic battlefield, Peng appears to be carving a political road for herself as well, recently joining the 11th National Committee of the Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference. Still, it is Peng’s grand presence on stage that has won the hearts of families nationwide and forged a bond with citizens that may potentially shield the couple from political criticism later on.

Sun Yang, 20, broke the world record in the men’s 1,500-meter freestyle by 3 seconds.

So….how’s China nabbing all the golds? It’s what the world wants to know. First of all, Chinese are hard-core athletes. Second, China has what you would call a lot of people. I mean, out of 1,344,130,000, I would expect at least 40 to be gold medalists. Sure, great athletes are few and far between, but if you can’t even train 0.00003% of the population to be good as gold, you may want to rethink your strategy. Thirdly, China has a badass training program for talented young athletes. Actually, badass is an understatement– if you’re considered to be a child prodigy in a particular sport, you’ll be taken out of the regular academic curriculum as early as elementary school and placed in a special athletic development school with professional coaches to train you in that sport. Oh, and as a nice perk, the Chinese government will pick up the bill. Not surprisingly, many of the Chinese athletes you see on screen come from extremely poor villages in rural China. If the talent is there, many rural families will choose to prime their child for athletic competition in order to receive financial support from the state.

No matter where you are in China today, making a decent living is difficult even if a prestigious diploma happens to hang in your office. Buying a car, much less a house, for example, is still only a dream for many. The Olympics offers a way out for some. Consider the following from an article posted on china.org.cn a few days ago (and be sure to scroll to the end!):

“China rewards athletes who won the first gold medals at Olympic Games”:

Shooter Xu Haifeng got a national reward of 12,000 yuan at the 23rd Olympic Games in Los Angeles in 1984.

Diver Xu Yanmei got a national reward of 15,000 yuan at the 24th Olympic Games in Seoul in 1988.

Swimmer Zhuang Yong got a national reward of 80,000 yuan at the 25th Olympic Games in Barcelona in 1992.

Judo player Sun Fuming got a national reward of 80,000 yuan at the 26th Olympic Games in Atlanta in 1996.

Shooter Tao Luna received a national reward and various other rewards, amounting to a total worth of 2 million yuan , and in addition was assigned an apartment worth one million yuan after the 27th Olympic Games in Sydney in 2000.

Weight Lifter Chen Xiexia got a national reward of 350,000 yuan,received an additional 700,000 yuan from Guangdong province and another 160,000 yuan from the town government. In addition, Chen received various other rewards amounting to a total worth of 5 million yuan plus an Audi Q7. All this was presented to Chen after winning gold at the 29th Olympic Games in Beijing in 2008.

Following the London Olympics, shooter Yi Siling will receive a national reward of 500,000 yuan (US$78,436), an additional 800,000 yuan and an apartment from Guangdong Province, another 800,000 yuan from Zhuhai City and various other rewards worth a total of 4 million yuan. Yi shall also become the proud owner of a luxury car, an Audi A6L 30 FSI, worth 750,000 yuan provided by the FAW – Audi Sales Division.

There’s been a lot of press about Japan here lately, with the line “Think we’ll go to war?” sneaking into more than a few cocktail party conversations. For those who aren’t familiar with the historical relationship between China and Japan, just know that after two Sino-Japanese wars in which Japan invaded China, the “Nanjing Massacre” in 1937 (where Japanese troops raided, killed, and raped Chinese citizens in Nanjing) and WWII, which again brought Chinese troops face to face with Japanese, relations between the two aren’t exactly chipper.

Disputes regarding ownership of islands in the East China Sea are not a recent development— the photo above was taken in Xi’an in 2010 when the entire city mobilized to protest the Japanese claim of the Diaoyu Islands. Recently, protests and marches have again commenced in a number of eastern cities. Smashing Japanese cars is the newest form of protest, which many non-participants (myself included) find somewhat amusing as nearly 80% of cars here are Toyotas…

Still, aside from a few lively uprisings in Xi’an and other youthful cities, the urge to protest has yet to enter the mainstream— I have not personally witnessed any protests or disturbances of any kind (I’ve heard that southern China is more stable in general when it comes to these issues, primarily because the environment and lifestyle is more comfortable than that up north). I would like to share an article from Nanfang Zhoumo (南方周末) , the subject of which I also spotted on the news while riding to work today. The article examines why the word “reason” or “理性” has become the phrase most often used in tandem with news about the protests. It is a word embraced by both the government and people to direct the emotion of citizens during this time of conflict with Japan. According to the logic of most Chinese, animosity towards Japan for its historical wrongdoings is not juvenile by any means— on the contrary, it is a reasonable stance to take in order to defend the national rights of China that have frequently been challenged in the past.

Protest, according to the article, is a “double-edged sword”— all benefits gained are inevitably accompanied by the risk of immense loss. Counter to popular belief, in the case of Japan, the Chinese government does not restrict the voice of the collective populace— instead, it actively responds to their calls. In this age of modern protest, in order to prevent significant loss or harm to society, the collective voice must be expressed in a rational manner, i.e., there should be a complete set of system specifications to guide and direct the pursuit of personal interest and social justice. In the words of the article, “‘Reason’, simply put, at its most minimum standard does not harm the lawful rights and interests of others.”  (“理性”，简单地说，其最起码的标准是不损害其他人的合法权益). Yet reaching this standard, in our reality, is easier said than done.

The article goes on to describe an ideal world for protest where demonstrators could unite and express their opinions in public without disturbing urban traffic or interrupting the work and lives of others. The finest “rational” we could imagine would consist of demonstrators processing in prescribed routes with police officers acting as “referees”— there to make a call when necessary but passive to the degree that protesters may not even feel their presence (警察仿佛一场精彩比赛的裁判，他们游弋在最需要他们出现的地方，但却几乎让人感觉不到他们的存在).

Although the ideal of a purely rational world is still a fair distance away, the article champions the high school students in Guangzhou who spontaneously cleared away garbage on the streets and the parade of college students shouting “Rationality!” over and over again for giving us the sense that “reason” is not that far away.

Now for my commentary: I think the terms “rational” and “reason” are extremely dangerous for the ease with which they can be defined or defended subjectively. Any criminal will tell you that his or her actions were “reasonable”, because what is rational for an individual may not be rational for others or for society at large. To have a universal consensus on what comprises “rational” action, every country, every government, every individual would need to stand on some common foundation of beliefs. But one look at the disconnect between facts regarding ownership of the Diaoyu Islands and the notion of common ground feels inconceivable.

Knowing that college students chanted “rationality” does not give me hope that Chinese society is nearing some utopian model of systemized, constructive protest. On the contrary, it brings me back to AP English, 1984, and a world of “doublespeak”.