Let me start by condemning this incredibly offensive photo that was much discussed on the news tonight.

This photo, put out by the network that broadcasts the Knicks’ games, makes a grotesque issue of Lin’s race and I am delighted to see that it was quickly condemned by even right-leaning media. This was outrageous.

Next, let me say that I never thought I’d ever put up a post about basketball. It will be brief.

Even I, who have never had the slightest interest in team sports of any kind, have been impressed by the incredibly rapid and dramatic ascension of Jeremy Lin, unheard of a few days ago and now the most-heard name on television, and everywhere else. It’s not surprising. On top of his pyrotechnics on the court he has other qualities that ensure he will be a media darling, especially his deep Christian faith and the fact that he is Harvard-educated yet modest, soft-spoken and irresistibly charismatic.

I’ve been reading that although he’s already a superhero on China’s social media, the Chinese media’s response to Lin has been muted. He is, after all, an American, a devout Christian, and his success raises questions as to why there is no Lin equivalent in China, i.e., a brilliant young man educated in the country’s finest university who went on to turn himself into a sports sensation.

The best piece I’ve seen on this topic is here (h/t to James Fallows). The reporter, Adam Minter, quotes a Chinese microblogger:

If Jeremy Lin lived on the mainland, he would either be a semi-literate CBA [Chinese Basketball Association, China’s state-run professional league] player or an ordinary undergraduate who likes basketball in his spare time. We admire him not because he is an ethnic Chinese, but because he has proved for a fact that the main reason that Chinese don’t play basketball well is because of the system, and not their physique!

I’ve written before about China’s sports factories that churn out athletes who have no skills outside of their sport, and how those who don’t make it usually end up with limited skills and poor job prospects. So I kept wondering, could China produce a Jeremy Lin? Unfortunately, I don’t think so. Not yet.

I was listening to interviews on NPR this morning with fans in China who insist Lin is Chinese due to the color of his skin and the fact that his roots go back to Zhejiang (and Taiwan). Their hero worship of Lin will continue, as he is all they have. As Minter says in his closing line, “Until there is a Jeremy Lin born and made in China, Jeremy Lin the Chinese-American will almost certainly remain a favorite of native-born Chinese basketball fans.”

This is an open thread that I’d like to kick off with this most unusual article claiming China is a fascist state.

I never claim that China is fascist. I do not say it is a police state, though sometimes, when they arrest people I know, I think it’s a fair label. China is many things and defies being pigeonholed. There may be fascist characteristics, but I’ve certainly felt that at times about many other countries, at times even the US. China can be remarkable free, as all of us know. But it’s more complicated than that. You know as soon as you start talking with Chinese people about Tibet and Taiwan and the looting of the Summer Palace that there’s a lot of groupthink going on. They may be completely right on those topics, and I sympathize with their viewpoints; that’s not my point. My point is the uniformity of opinion. In the US we have violently different thoughts about Iraq and politics and government and foreign policy. In China, there are certain topics where you know in advance what the response is going to be, right or wrong. But even here absolutes are unreliable; Chinese are increasingly speaking up and even making fun of their government’s clumsy efforts to control its people’s brain cells.

I equate fascism with complete totalitarianism, and China doesn’t meet that criterion. Several of the points the writer brings up, however, are quite true, especially in regard to Chinese perceptions of China’s deserved place in the world and its collective sense of national humiliation. I’m just not sure this constitutes fascism. So many Americans believe in our manifest destiny and America’s unquestioned right to bear the mantle of leader of the world. That isn’t quite fascism, it’s just crazy.

But the article did make me think. Sometimes I thought I was reading the musings of a frustrated English teacher worried about the “China threat,” sometimes I thought he made some astute observations.

Thanks to the reader who sent me the link. I hope I don’t regret posting about it.

I really don’t like the sound of this ad, which played locally in Michigan during the game. It plays off of stereotypes and the growing paranoia about the rise of China. I’m calling it ill-conceived at best, racist at worst. The explanation of the ad sounds pretty feeble, too.

The campaign of the Michigan Republican hit racial notes as a new advertisement argued that the policies of incumbent Sen. Debbie Stabenow (D-Mich.) were helping China to the detriment of the United States.

The advertisement, which will run in Michigan during the Super Bowl and afterward, features an Asian female with a conical straw hat riding a bike through a rice paddy field.

“Your economy get very weak. Ours get very good [sic],” the actress says, in broken English.

“Thank you Michigan Senator Debbie ‘Spend-it-now’. Debbie spend so much American money [sic],” the actress says, without a Chinese accent. “You borrow more and more, from us… we take your jobs. Thank you Debbie ‘Spend-it-now.’”

The Hoekstra campaign called the advertisement “satirical” and explained the broken English in the video as a reflection of China’s increasingly competitive education system.

“You have a Chinese girl speaking English – I want to hit on the education system, essentially. The fact that a Chinese girl is speaking English is a testament to how they can compete with us, when an American boy of the same age speaking Mandarin is absolutely insane, or unthinkable right now,” Hoekstra spokesperson Paul Ciaramitaro told POLITICO. “It exhibits another way in which China is competing with us globally.”

You can see the ad at the link above. I find it racially charged and plainly “anti-China.” As if the fact that the Chinese girl is speaking English tells viewers China’s education system is superior (that’s what the Hoekstra camp is claiming). Nonsense. This ad is designed to instill fear and touch a racial nerve.

I recently started reading Frank Dikköter’s book Mao’s Great Famine, The History of China’s Most Devastating Catastrophe, 1958-1962 and am about halfway through. Reading it is not a pleasant experience. Nothing about the Great Leap Forward makes for pleasant storytelling. You can feel the author’s rage on every page, even while his style remains calm and restrained. It is clear he sees the GLF not only as a man-made calamity, which it was, but one for which Mao deserves nearly all the blame. It is a crime that Dikkoter believes ranks with the Holocaust, one that Mao supported with full awareness of its consequences, and even with malice.

The other famous book on the GLF, Yang Jisheng’s Tombstone (discussed in an earlier post here) takes a more measured look at the nightmare years, and is not so quick to accuse Mao of intentionally and maliciously wreaking suffering on his people. Or so at least we are told in this superb book review by Xujun Eberlein, one of my favorite bloggers and someone I had the pleasure to meet in Chongqing a few years ago. Everyone who reads this blog will want to see this side-by-side comparison. She clearly sides with Yang Jisheng.

“Understanding the complexity of human behavior in times of catastrophe is one of the aims of the book,” Dikötter states, and he does a good job fulfilling that goal in terms of ordinary people. But when it comes to the behavior of Mao and his colleagues, he has a tendency for simplification and caricature. The Mao under his pen is simply one of history’s most sadistic tyrants; consideration is not given to the complexity of his behavior. The reader gets the impression that Mao knew about the famine all along, but either deliberately let people starve, or was indifferent to their fate. Dikötter’s indignation toward Mao is understandable, but this representation is neither factual nor insightful.

In contrast to Dikötter, Yang Jisheng, despite his sorrow and resentment over the catastrophe, does not let personal sentiment get in the way of factual reporting and serious exploration. Aptly casting Mao as “China’s last emperor,” Yang nonetheless provides a more complete portrait.

Mao’s policies were the main cause of the famine, and nothing can excuse him from that responsibility. But the catastrophe was not a deliberate act of mass murder like the Holocaust, as Dikötter suggests. Rather, it was the result of policy failures from a governance system based on the control of ideology and information. Culminating in the Great Leap Forward in 1958, the utopian policies, enthusiastically shaped and promoted by the entire leadership, were intended to bring about China’s high-speed development. They instead resulted in the collapse of the nation’s economic pillar: agriculture. The central government’s inflated production targets and export quota led to unreasonably high procurements of grain from the peasants, while local governments under political pressure responded with inflated grain production statistics. The two types of inflation fed each other to form a vicious cycle that exhausted agricultural capacity, while the backyard steelmaking that took workers away from the land further worsened the grain shortages. After the famine started, it was prolonged because bad news was blocked from feeding back to top policy makers. Mao, thus, went through a long period of delusion and denial before, in late 1960, making a partial concession: “I myself made mistakes, too; I must correct.”

So perhaps Mao’s saving grace is that when he actually did recognize the tragedy of his policies in 1961 he took steps to reverse them. Either way, epiphany or not, Mao must assume the lion’s share of the blame, especially considering how he purged anyone who dared question his revolutionary plan to modernize China. And he didn’t seem to learn from his mistakes. Only a few years later he would seek to rehabilitate himself by launching a new campaign, one that equaled the GLF in terms of insanity, cult worship and suffering.

Like the Holocaust, the GLF is a subject of endless fascination for me, making me wonder how men can surrender their critical faculties and their humanity. And no, I am not saying the GLF equals the Holocaust.I’m not say Mao has blood on his hands the way Hitler does. But both featured certain key ingredients: blind obedience and blind faith, an ideologically twisted leader who assumed cult status, and an unfathomable lack of compassion for the suffering.

After reading this remarkable review I’m keen to read Tombstone, though the fact that it’s 900 pages in two volumes might be beyond my stamina. It is set to be published later this year. Luckily, Xujun has broken the books down to at least give us a taste of both. Read the review, and tell me how two brilliant researchers/writers could come to such different conclusions.

Update: Please note that Xujun’s excellent blog has moved to this address. You can read the sad story of how she lost her domain name here. Maddening.

Please take a look through the set of photos my friend Ben took on his recent trip to Dali, one of my favorite cities in all China. What is it about Yunnan that makes life so peaceful?

This is an open thread.

It’s next to impossible to imagine what it was like on the ground at Hiroshima when the atomic bomb fell on August 6, 1945. But what if the blast had been ten times more devastating than it was? Utterly inconceivable. There is no way to visualize it. And yet the Tangshan earthquake that tore the coal-mining city into rubble on July 28, 1976 was equal in magnitude to 400 Hiroshimas. In the 23 seconds that it lasted it killed about a quarter of a million Chinese and left only about three percent of the city’s buildings standing and usable.

James Palmer, in his wonderful book Heaven Cracks, Earth Shakes, brings the calamity to life.

The 23 seconds of the earthquake were probably the most concentrated mass of destruction humanity has ever known. In Tangshan alone it did more damage than either Hiroshima or Nagasaki, more damage than the firebombing of Dresden or Hamburg or Tokyo, more damage than the explosion of Krakatoa. It took more lives in one fraction of northeast China than the 2004 tsunami did across the whole Indian ocean.

The full name of the book is Heaven Cracks, Earth Shakes: The Tangshan Earthquake and the Death of Mao’s China. The earthquake is at the epicenter of the story, but it is framed by the story of the end of Maoism and the rise of Deng. The cracking of the heavens is the fall of Mao’s China. The earth’s shaking is literal and figurative, of course. Nothing shook China like the Tangshan earthquake, or the political upheavals that would follow it only a few short months later.

No year was as pivotal for China as 1976. The Cultural Revolution was dying; the public was sick of the empty sloganeering and endless denunciations and rallies as the Chinese economy worsened. Zhou Enlai’s death in January and the huge nationwide outpouring of grief was a signal that the Chinese were thirsting for change. Millions came to mourn Zhou in huge demonstrations in Tiananmen Square three months after his death. The masses were restless. It scared the Gang of Four to death. The Chinese people were exhausted. Most of them hated the Gang and wanted a return to sanity. They no longer had any confidence in their government. On top of this, everyone knew Mao was in poor health. China seemed on the brink of a precipice. And it was.

I’ve been lucky enough to meet James Palmer on several occasions (I still need to return a book he leant me in 2004) and I can safely say he’s about the most brilliant person I’ve ever known. No exaggeration. His panoramic knowledge of history and literature has never failed to amaze me. This is the first of his books that I’ve read and its scholarliness and meticulousness do not surprise me.

What James does that I found most impressive was to crunch the history of the period, from the start of the Cultural Revolution in 1966 through the ascension to power of Deng in 1978. It is difficult to jam so much information into so little space and keep it from reading like a Wikipedia entry. James has a talent for telling a story that is brimming with facts, names and events that reads like a thriller. I read the entire book in two days, and felt I learned more about this brief period than I had from countless articles and more than a few books.

Your blood will boil as he recalls the murders and suicides, beatings and torture of the Cultural Revolution. This story is nothing new to anyone who bothers to read this blog, but Palmer manages to zero in on its very essence, giving us more than enough specifics, facts and figures to bring the period to life. He makes it seem so effortless, but this must have been painstakingly difficult to write. His thoughts about Mao and all that he wrought mirror my own. They are not good thoughts.

The earthquake itself is sandwiched in between the story of gathering political unrest in the spring of 1976 and the death of Mao in September. Palmer made several trips to the site of the catastrophe and interviewed survivors. He tells how when the earthquake struck at three in the morning people who were lucky enough to be practicing tai qi outdoors or farmers up early to head to market with their products had a far better chance of survival than those sleeping in their beds. Luckiest of all, surprisingly, were coal miners working the late shift deep under the earth. Only seventeen of the 10,000 miners at work died. The stories of horrifying deaths and inspiring heroics make the book a page-turner. So much went wrong. It took days for the PLA soldiers to arrive; they had to travel largely on foot, as the railroad lines had been ripped apart. When they did arrive, they were as exhausted and hungry as many of the survivors. The government arrogantly refused offers of foreign aid that could probably have saved thousands. Citizens whose sole crime was trying to get some food from the granaries to keep from starving were shot as looters. The soldiers, at great risk to themselves, pulled thousands from the rubble. But sheer chaos reigned for the first few days. There was no leadership. no one to turn to for counsel.

What to do about a broken limb with no doctor within a hundred miles? How to get a bull driven mad by fear back behind a locked gate? How do you move a broken bedstead out of the way to reach a trapped child when the bedstead may be the only thing holding up the mound she’s buried under from collapsing? With the well blocked, where’s the nearest source of clean water?

The unluckiest, as always, were the victims in the countryside. Tangshan was a major coal-mining center. The government had only one concern, to get the mines back in operation and to rebuild the city so business could be performed as usual. Those in the countryside simply didn’t matter. Practically none of the food and other aid that poured into the city made it to the rural villages.

With all the tales of heroism and sacrifice, Palmer notes that the story People’s Daily featured on its front page was of a cadre who, despite the shouts from his thirteen-year-old daughter to help pull her from the rubble of their home, ignored her (and his son buried alongside her) to dig out a local party chairman who lived nearby.

The article praised his political commitment, noting approvingly that he ‘felt neither remorse nor sorrow’ for the death of his children, but had sown ‘a willingness to benefit the majority at the expense of his own children’, which was an example to everyone.

As thrilling as the descriptions of the earthquake are, it was the political side of the story that most gripped me. Palmer takes us to Mao’s deathbed and lets us know just how much of a shrew Jiang Qing was (not that I ever doubted that). He paints the Gang of Four as spectacularly incompetent and out of touch with the Chinese people, and we feel delighted to read of Hua Guofeng setting the traps leading to their arrest. We learn of the challenges the doctors encountered as they tried to pickle Mao’s corpse for permanent display. The public mourns, but their sorrow never comes close to what it was for Zhou. People wanted Maoism to come to an end.

Although mention of Deng himself is relatively brief, it is clear that after Mao’s death he had come to clean up Dodge, and immediately set the stage for a whole new Chinese mindset. For all his mistakes, he was what China needed at that moment, and he took control with his characteristic competence and shrewdness.

I can’t recommend the book strongly enough. I knew next to nothing about the Tangshan earthquake and now I can picture it in living color, and I can hear the moans of trapped survivors. Even if you know China’s history of the period, James casts it in enough of a new light to make it fresh and enthralling. It is not a fun read, although James injects plenty of wry English humor where appropriate. Beautifully written, meticulously researched, full of suspense and drama, Heaven Cracks, Earth Shakes belongs on the shelf of anyone who wants to better understand China at its most critical juncture in modern history.

PLEASE NOTE: This site has been hacked by our favorite commenter. I apologize for all the damage done yesterday. For a while I’ll be moderating all comments on a one-by-one basis so please bear with me, as comments may not appear for a few hours after you post them.

A new thread.

The last one may have been the strangest ever. To my sockpuppets and mischief-makers, I know how you work.

Possible topics:

Chinese New Year
Apple Iphone mania
Taiwan elections
Alleged torture of a Chinese dissident
Or, of course, the latest Forbes column by….well, you know. (Includes a swipe at James Fallows.)

Or talk about anything else. A gentle reminder: If you try to impersonate other commenters or play games as in the last thread, you’re out forever.

Because this is an open thread, no time for a new post. Can we make it kinder and gentler than the thread directly below?

For a minute I thought I was reading a post on Hidden Harmonies:

President Hu Jintao has said that China must strengthen its cultural production to defend against the West’s assault on the country’s culture and ideology, according to an essay in a Communist Party policy magazine published this week. The publication of Mr. Hu’s words signaled that a new major policy initiative announced last October would continue well into 2012.

The essay, which was signed by Mr. Hu and based on a speech he gave in October, drew a sharp line between the cultures of the West and China and effectively said the two sides were engaged in an escalating war. It was published in Seeking Truth, a magazine that evolved from a publication founded by Mao as a platform for establishing Communist Party principles.

“We must clearly see that international hostile forces are intensifying the strategic plot of westernizing and dividing China, and ideological and cultural fields are the focal areas of their long-term infiltration,” Mr. Hu said, according to a translation by Reuters.

“We should deeply understand the seriousness and complexity of the ideological struggle, always sound the alarms and remain vigilant, and take forceful measures to be on guard and respond,” he added.

At least he admits the CCP is paranoid and scared shitless of a citizenry that is well informed and free to express itself. Hu should read what Han Han wrote just the week earlier:

“The restriction on cultural activities makes it impossible for China to influence literature and cinema on a global basis or for us culturati to raise our heads up proud,” Han Han wrote.

That really says it all. You never stimulate creativity by limiting what your citizens can think, say and do.

This is an open thread. Feel free to comment on this article or anything else. I’ll be busy with my China project the next few days.

One of my favorite journalists, Peter Ford of the Christian Science Monitor, has a report on some new and bound-to-be-controversial blog posts published on line over the weekend by author/race-car-driver Han Han. Apparently the essays are being denounced by many in the online community — for not being pro-democracy enough.

The essays are on three of the government’s least favorite subjects: “On Democracy,” “On Revolution,” and “On Wanting Freedom.”

The outspoken Mr. Han reaches more than a million followers and readers whenever he sounds off, which gives him a degree of leeway that the Chinese censors do not grant to everybody. And his popularity means that all of a sudden the sensitive subjects he broached have moved out of the shadows of intellectual or dissident websites into the glare of the Chinese Web’s most visited portals.

Han is all for increased freedom of expression. “I believe I can be a better writer, and I don’t want to wait until I am old,” he says.

But he is ambivalent about democracy in China because he doubts whether enough Chinese people have sufficient civic consciousness to make it work properly, and he is against a revolution because “the ultimate winner in a revolution must be a vicious, ruthless person.”

This is the old argument, is China ready for democracy now? It may seem disappointing that Han Han has, in effect, toed the party line, namely that China is not ready and that any dramatic change would only lead to something worse. BUT I can well see where he’s coming from. What, after all, can fill the void that would follow if the CCP were ousted from power in a fair election (if there could ever be such a thing in China)? It’s a fair question, and one the fenqing love to answer by pointing to Russia in 1991.

Han’s argument, as much as I hate to say it, aligns pretty well with my own observations when I lived in China, namely that the desire for democracy ranks pretty low on the wish list of most Chinese people, while fear of what change would bring ranks far higher. But both of those issues pale in comparison to what Chinese really worry about: inflation and feeding their families.

Ford’s thoughts pretty much echo my own — not that I don’t want to see democracy in China, but that I don’t see it as a viable option anytime soon, if ever:

[A]s I read Han’s essay on revolution, something chimed with what I had come across in a very different sort of document that I had been perusing earlier in the morning, the biennial “Comprehensive Social Conditions Survey” just out from the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences (CASS).

That report listed the top 10 issues of current public concern in China, led by food price inflation (59.5 percent of respondents), health care availability and costs (42.1 percent) and the wealth gap (28 percent) ahead of a string of other bread-and-butter worries such as unemployment and housing prices.

It was a Chinese version of the famous note pinned to a board in Bill Clinton’s campaign headquarters when he was running against George Bush Sr., “It’s the economy, stupid!” And nowhere on the list was there any mention of restrictions on freedom of expression, or the lack of democracy (although official corruption angers 29.3 percent of the population, according to the survey.)

When I went to see Li Wei, one of the CASS researchers who had carried out the study, I asked him why this was. Had he not asked about political issues, or did people just not care about them?

He was frank. Initially, he said, he and his colleagues had planned to ask about Internet censorship and the lack of freedom of expression. “But when we tested our questions in preparation for the survey, we found that villagers did not know what we were talking about,” he recalled. “They thought they had complete freedom because they don’t talk about politics, so they don’t have any problems.”

Do we all get that — that the priority for most Chinese people is not abolishing censorship or implementing free elections? As much as some of us would like democracy to be top-of-mind for the Chinese people, it simply isn’t so. They have far more practical considerations to worry about. Censorship for most Chinese isn’t an issue at all, and democracy is the farthest thing from their minds. Of course, this isn’t the case with activists like Liu Xiaobo and his followers, but the numbers remind us of what really matters to the majority of Chinese right now, and it’s not the right to free, democratic elections. It’s going to take many, many Wukans to get us to that point, and I have to wonder whether we’ll ever see it in our lifetimes.

Han Han, for better or for worse, is speaking for the majority of Chinese, and, alas, for the government. For all the pollution and unfairness and blind activists under house arrest, the people of China don’t believe the nation is ready for radical change, like the imposition of democracy. Most simply couldn’t care less about it, while others, like Han Han, see inherent dangers in it. True or false, that’s just the way it is.