On October 14, Xinhua News Agency’s Economic Information Daily reported claims by commercial authorities in the city of Changsha that several local stores for the international retail chains Walmart and Carrefour in the city had been found to be re-labeling food products and selling them after expiration. The allegations come as Walmart China stores have been forced to close in the city of Chongqing and at least 37 employees detained over allegations regular pork was sold as organic pork. In this cartoon, posted by Kunming-based studio Yuan Jiao Man’s Space (圆觉漫时空) to QQ.com, a figure with a smiley face (representing Walmart in China) and a devilishly grinning figure with the long Pinocchio nose of a chronic fibber (representing Carrefour in China), work in cahoots to tinker with a clock.

China has been captivated this week by the distressing case of two-year-old Foshan girl Xiao Yueyue (小悦悦), who was coldly ignored by passersby as she lay bleeding in the street after being struck by a delivery van. Video shared widely across social media in China documented the October 13 incident in horrifying detail, including at least 18 people walking past Xiao Yueyue’s body without so much as a glance.
Xiao Yueyue is reportedly in stable but critical condition in a Guangzhou hospital. The implications of the incident are being widely discussed in China’s media, both new and old. According to People’s Daily Online, at least 151,342 microblog posts had been made on the incident by Monday afternoon. The vast majority of these (about 150,742), the site said, were from “ordinary users” (those, in other words, without large numbers of followers). The following is one composite image post made to Sina Microblog today:

[ABOVE: A composite image posted to Sina Microblog, one of China’s leading social media platforms. At top is Chen Xianmei (陈贤妹), who eventually did stop to help the child, Xiao Yueyue, who is pictured in the hospital on the right side of the composite.]
Traditional media have also jumped on the story, even local Party newspapers such as Foshan Daily, which ran a front page headline yesterday reading: “Today, they have shamed the whole of Foshan.” The headline refers to those 18 people who were caught on video walking or driving callously past the seriously injured Xiao Yueyue.

One of the lengthiest reports comes from the official, but also very commercial, Guangzhou Daily. The report quotes a number of experts, including Fudan University sociologist Gu Xiaoming (顾晓明), who said that people had lost their “reverence for life” and felt “indifferent or even cold about life or death” owing to the new complexities of Chinese social life. Faced with a situation like Xiao Yueyue’s, Gu said, many people don’t know how to act: “People will rationalize [the situation] and think, if I try to save her but she dies because I can’t, how will that make me responsible?”
Chen Xianmei (陈贤妹), the woman who eventually did come to Xiao Yueyue’s aid, told Guangzhou Daily that she asked four or five people who had stalls along the street whether they knew whose child this was. According to Chen they all responded, “It’s not mine,” and no one offered help. Chen then shouted in all directions, asking for help or information, and only then did the Xiao Yueyue’s mother come running.
At People’s Daily Online today, columnist Li Hongbing (李泓冰) writes: “Any one of us might become the ‘passerby’ at the side of Xiao Yueyue. Please, stop. Move her out of the center of the road. Or extend a hand of comfort, carrying her away from danger.”
Here are some Chinese news links on this story today:
“By extending a hand, we save ourselves,” Yangcheng Evening News
“Two drivers arrested for running over Xiao Yueyue,” Foshan Radio
“The Xiao Yueyue incident: gathering up the scraps of China’s conscience?,” Nanfang Daily
“Zhang Ming: those passersby who neglected an injured child are no better than animals,” Phoenix Online
“Good-hearted auntie: I did what I should have,” Hebei Youth Daily

In an interview with Southern Metropolis Daily, Han Han (韩寒), the widely popular blogger and cultural critic who doubles as a race-car driver, offers his views on China’s domestic film industry. Earlier today, the culture section of Southern Metropolis Daily shared portions of the interview through its official Sina Microblog account, pulling out Han Han’s choice quote on censorship.

It may be the case that the government in a country with cultural censorship no longer has to fear criticism or satire at the hands of its own creative works. But then the whole world subjects it to criticism and satire.

A portion of Han Han’s interview follows, but readers of Chinese are encouraged to read the original (and offer any pointers on our hurried translation).

Southern Metropolis Daily: Here’s a pretty cliche question, but can you talk about how you view “Lee’s Adventure” (李献计历险记)? Did you buy a ticket and see it? What kind of score do you give this film?
Han Han: This is a really tough question to answer. I bought a ticket at the theater to watch it, and before it came out I really wanted to see it. But during the first few days it was out I was racing, and there weren’t any theaters where I was. This is a film with the potential to become really great, but it falls short. I feel like the film actually could be made into three separate films. The first would be a fully animated “Lee’s Adventure,” nothing but animation; the second would be a youth film called “Lee’s Adventure”; and the third would be “Lee’s Adventure” the romantic adventure story. When all three of these are all put together, added to the narration bits that have a really distinct Beijing quality, a really sincere film with everything there falls a bit flat. But it’s still worth going to the theater and buying a ticket to see.
Southern Metropolis Daily: In the past you’ve commented on and graded a number of films, from “On His Majesty’s Secret Service” (大内密探零零狗) to “Founding of the Republic” (建国大业) and “Confucius” (孔子). You tend not to pull your punches. But lately you’ve not said very little about domestically-made films (国产电影), and we’ve not seen you scolding them much either. Is this because you’ve simply lost hope, or because you now know too many people in the industry and feel bad about being too critical? Can you talk about what films you’ve seen this year on your own dime that have really made a deep impression on you?
Han Han: I’ve not had contact with too many people in the film industry. It’s just that film criticism is something I’ve done in my spare time. I’ve not seen many good domestic films this year. “The Piano in a Factory” (钢的琴) was one, and while the part imitating Yugoslavian film and the totally unnecessary song and dance was a bit affected, the principal male character and the director held it together. “Lee’s Adventure” was another. Both films were filmed in a very lofty style, but both fortunately came back down to earth. Both films pushed hard to be moving and tragic but ultimately failed the audience.
Southern Metropolis Daily: Hong Huang (洪晃) once said that China doesn’t have independent film critics and needs more Han Hans. What did you think after hearing that? You’re not a film critic by trade, but many people (including the one sitting next to you right now) would read your reviews and weight them as they considered whether or not to go and see a film. Does knowing that make you more cautious in reviewing films?
Han Han: I do feel some caution about it. Every film, even the totally stupid ones, are the product of a lot of work and at the very least mean a whole crew has to get up early every day for three months. So sometimes I don’t have the heart [to be too critical]. I’m not saying though that work and effort are necessarily a good thing and should earn forgiveness. After all, killing and plundering, robbing and looting, are all a lot of hard work too. The efforts of others can’t become an excuse for forgiving [mediocrity].
Southern Metropolis Daily: You’ve started becoming involved with films in various ways, and sometimes you can be seen “standing up” for certain films. So are you planning to throw your strength in with filmmaking, or is this just out of friendship? And what if it’s you who are criticized once these films hit the screen?
Han Han: Basically it’s out of friendship, but these are all people I’ve picked out as people I can trust. I’m a pretty thin-skinned and soft-hearted person, but when I come across idiots my skin still thickens right up and my heart grows hard. So these are basically friends that I know won’t let me down. Fortunately, I don’t know that many. So I can preserve my independence.
Southern Metropolis Daily: You once had a director fire back at you, saying if you know so much about film why don’t you try making one yourself? You’ve talked before about how you have played with the idea of directing. So why have you not started? These past couple of years, film has been hot, and the money has flowed. On the surface, it seems to be flourishing, with box office numbers breaking hundreds of millions. Do you think there is a higher proportion of good films on the silver screen today?
Han Han: Films aren’t the work of a single person. If a film can’t make it into theaters, there’s no way I can face my investors and partners. The film market is flourishing, but it’s even harder to make decent films in China. The quality of Hong Kong films has been pulled lower as cooperation has been sought [with mainland film partners to reach both markets]. The film censorship system means current material [relating to life today] is avoided altogether. And many people who really should be in the field of television drama, or telemarketing for that matter, have entered the film industry — all of these are reasons the quality of filmmaking has gone down.
Southern Metropolis Daily: Do you think the film censorship system is the chief reason we have so many bad Chinese films?
Han Han: It’s an extremely important reason. When I was writing my book I found myself self-censoring, taking a lot of content out myself. And then the editor would take out more. This is even more the case with film. It may be the case that the government in a country with cultural censorship no longer has to fear criticism or satire at the hands of its own creative works. But then the whole world subjects it to criticism and satire.

Back in September, the [road-rage] attack case involving Li Tianyi (李天一), the son of major general and army vocalist Li Shuangjiang (李双江), once again (like the Li Gang Case of October 2010) drew the attention of the public to the arrogant attitudes and behavior of young Chinese with well-connected parents — that is, the sons and daughters of Party and government officials (官二代) and the sons and daughters of the rich (富二代).
Li Tianyi’s case was also cast as an illustration of the arrogant behavior of the sons and daughters of privileged entertainment stars, referred to as the xing’erdai (星二代). Right on the heels of the Li Tianyi case, Wang Ke (王珂) and Wang Shuo (王闹), two of the so-called “Beijing playboys” (京城四少) — both regarded as second-generation rich and powerful — crashed their luxury cars during a street race, which then led to a scuffle in which Wang Shuo allegedly pulled a gun on Wang Ke [More here from China Daily]. This case, like the others, focused attention on the dictatorial and unchecked behavior of some children of the second generation, and drew in related debates about social fairness and equality, corruption and rule of law.
Like Wang Shuo, the deputy general manager of property development company Beijing Wangfu Centurial Development, Wang Ke is regarded as a member of the so-called “second-generation rich,” or fu’erdai (富二代), but his exact family connections remain something of a mystery. In this cartoon by Kuang Biao (邝飚), “Second-Generation Running Amuck”(横行的二代) — in which the word hengxing, or running amuck, also means to “stalk” or “crawl” or “scuttle”, as in the movement of crabs — two crabs with lower bodies shaped like a government seal (left) and a sycee, or ancient Chinese gold ingot, battle it out for supremacy. The upper bodies of these crabs, which clearly represent the “second-generation powerful” and the “second-generation rich,” are shaped like, well . . . we leave the rest of the interpretation to our readers. (Could there also be a pejorative reference to Hu Jintao’s “harmonious society” and internet slang “river crab” here?)

China’s State Internet Information Office (国家互联网信息办公室), also known as the “China Internet Information Office,” held a meeting in Beijing yesterday under the formal topic of “positively using microblogs to serve society” (积极运用微博客服务社会). The meeting signals again that China’s government is exploring measures to reign in domestic social media.
In recent months Chinese microblogs such as Sina Weibo and QQ Weibo have had a clear impact in shaping national news stories and gathering public interest and attention around sensitive social and political issues, from China’s high-speed rail collision to charity-related scandals and even recently the detention of blind activist Chen Guangcheng (陈光诚).
Established by the General Office of the State Council in May 2011, the State Internet Information Office is an attempt to centralize the management and control of internet content in China, a function that in the past was performed by an array of government offices — with, for example, the State Council Information Office handling text-based online news and video content remaining the responsibility of the State Administration of Radio Film and Television. The State Internet Information Office is run by Wang Chen (王晨), who concurrently serves as a deputy minister of the Central Propaganda Department.

At yesterday’s meeting, Wang Chen emphasized that “[we] must thoroughly apply a series of guiding spirits of the central Party in regards to internet construction, development and management, keeping to the guiding principle of ‘positive use, scientific development, management by rule of law and ensuring safety’ . . . ” Wang said the government must “thoroughly give play to the positive role of microblogs in serving society, taking concrete steps to develop and manage [them], working together to preserve a healthy and orderly online communication order, serving the overall work of the government and the Party, and serving the masses.”
According to a report from Xinhua News Agency, representatives from various companies and local government offices also spoke at the meeting yesterday to share their experiences using official and personal microblogs to promote their own messages, making them “new channels for serving the people.” Guo Mingyi (郭明义), a manager at a mining company, reportedly told the audience how he had used his personal microblog account “as a new platform to promote and praise the spirit of [nationwide propaganda exemplar] Lei Feng (雷锋).”

NOTE: The following editorial published in today’s edition of Shanghai’s Oriental Morning Post is translated an re-posted here with the permission of the author, Guo Yukuan (郭宇宽), a former professional journalist who is currently doing post-doctorate studies at Tsinghua University’s Research Center for Theoretical Economics. The Oriental Morning Post version is available here.
Recently I posted something online that was a bit at odds with the views of some internet users. Of course, it’s quite normal to find different views about a particular topic or issue, and I’m perfectly happy to exchange views with those who don’t see eye to eye with me.
But many web users have a very interesting way of “conversing.” Not bothering to listen to specific points I make, they pipe right up with things like: “Guo Yukuan, what do you know about logic! You with your PhD! Has your conscience been eaten by dogs?” That kind of thing. It’s as though they feel an unrestrained hatred towards me.

This sort of thing really gets me down. Here I am trying to talk things out and these people harass me endlessly. Where exactly does this anger that they’re venting on me come from? What is it, I wonder, that has made us lose all capacity for rational discussion?
Not long ago, I went back to my native Nanjing for a visit. I hailed a cab to the airport, and as we were trying to leave the city the traffic was a bit backed up. As we approached an intersection and the light was about to turn red, the sedan in front of us suddenly stopped dead rather than accelerating through the light. It was maybe two seconds before the light actually turned red, so we had to wait through the light, costing us probably twenty seconds in all.
I noticed that the sedan in front of us was a nice one, worth perhaps three- to four-hundred thousand yuan, and the tags were brand new. Clearly, the owner was from a well-to-do family.
My taxi driver swelled with anger, curses tumbling right out of his mouth. When the light finally changed, he furiously drove out in front of the sedan. Was the little bit we had to wait worth all this, I thought? If your emotions are that out of check isn’t it dangerous to take the highway?
I tried to reason with the driver. He spouted on about corrupt officials and how they were all a bunch of nothings with no sense of shame. In their corrupt way they finagled themselves into nice cars like that, but they didn’t know the first thing about driving them. If he had a tank, he said, he’d shell the dogs into oblivion.
Actually, I’d noticed when we passed the sedan that the driver was a woman. She was wearing a very fashionable hairdo, and seemed to be new to driving, but there was nothing to suggest that she was indeed a corrupt official. But in any case this was what Brother Taxi Driver believed, and he spat out his litany of curses.
I changed tack and asked the driver about his own family situation. When he talked about his child he was quite energetic. His child was in primary school right now, and he talked about all the expenses this involved, how if they were to go to a decent middle school he would have to slide 20,000 yuan into the school’s hand. And all the time he had to send his kid to this or that extra tutorial class, for which fees were high.
Then he started in on how ridiculous it was that teachers at the school didn’t always do a proper job of it, and they had to pay extra for tutors. Seeing that his anger was ebbing up again, I piped up saying that it was only right to spend a bit of money for the sake of one’s children. I asked him how his child’s studies were going. He said they were doing very well, that their test scores were always close to the top. Well at least his kid was doing well, I suggested, and at that he finally calmed down a bit.
I was taken aback when the driver was again whipped into a fury as we reached the airport, saying that to get a passenger at the airport he would have to wait in line for more than two hours, but that going back to the city empty was a waste, so he wasn’t sure what to do. He said some people didn’t have to wait though, they knew the airport security people and just slipped them cash so security would just look the other way.
I asked why they didn’t set up a professional association to regulated such behavior. In China right now, no-one can set up an association, he said, and whoever tries will be arrested just like that. Well then, I asked, had they tried reasoning with airport management? And what would he say, he asked. These people don’t understand reason, he said. Reason with them and they’ll beat you up.
By this time it was much clearer to me why he was so angry. In his world going through the backdoor and relying on connections was just the way of it, and he despised this kind of corruption. But he had no choice but the play by these rules, all the while feeling deeply wronged. The emotions he built up were under a state of high pressure, with no release valve, and every time he came up against some small thing his emotions exploded. Even something like waiting an extra 20 seconds could set him off on a half-day rant.
This made me think of an experience I had several years back. I was at a dinner party and someone who knew a friend of mine at the table came in and joined us partway through. My friend made introductions, saying that this guy was an urban management officer (城管). My first thought was, geez, can’t you find respectable work to do? But this guy was quite upfront about it, saying right out that being an urban management officer wasn’t work for human beings, and that they were all quite conflicted about it.
Conflicted how? He said that these small-time hawkers didn’t have a basic sense of order, and if it weren’t for urban management the streets would be chock full of them — and what would happen if the roads were all jammed? The police couldn’t deal with it, so the urban management officers had to. Well, I asked can’t you guys deal with the problem a bit more tactfully? Come and try it for a couple of days, he said. Try saying politely to these folk, I’m sorry, sir, but you can’t put your stand up here because it blocks traffic. They’ll give you the cold shoulder, hem and haw, and as soon as you’ve turned your back they’re right back out there.
I remember back to my youth when I lived on a college campus, and in that oasis of culture there was quite a palpable atmosphere of reason. I grew up learning to cherish reason as a matter of habit, and I’ve never felt the poorer for it.
But China today has a massive social subclass (底层社会) that moves and operates on the principle of might makes right (强权规则), by which the largest fist holds sway and has the say, and reason is unwelcome. These brutal emotions feed off of one another, so that to a large extent they distort the character of the masses, to the point that they no longer believe that reason is the way forward.
When I put all of these experiences together and look back on those people who have attacked me on the internet, I can understand where they’re coming from. And given the chance I’d love to sit down and talk with them, so long as we can look into each others’ eyes. Might they not feel a touch of shame in noting that this Guo Yukuan isn’t such a terrible guy after all? Have I done anything so offensive that I should deserve your hatred and such poisonous words?
Some people have asked me where I find the patience to speak reason with those who have no sense of it. In fact, when I come across these irrational sorts of internet users I don’t feel angry at all. Quite the opposite, I feel a kind of sympathy.
I can’t blame them any longer for being unreasonable. Rather, I have to ask, what sort of social environments, institutions and formative experiences is it that have molded their characters, world views and values in this way?

Today marks the one-hundredth anniversary of the start of the Xinhai Revolution in China, which overthrew the country’s last imperial dynasty, the Qing, and eventually led to the founding of the Republic of China in 1912. Not surprisingly, China’s newspaper pages today are filled with news of this important anniversary.
But as a major political movement calling for freedom and democracy, and an end to authoritarianism, the Xinhai Revolution is also a highly sensitive issue for the ruling Chinese Communist Party. It is not surprising, therefore, that most of the coverage today sticks quite closely to the official story from Xinhua News Agency. Below the fold are other local stories, such as local commemorations of the Xinhai anniversary, and about a former chief engineer from Boeing making a visit to Wuhan.
We can see the basic Party treatment best by looking at the front page of the Party’s official People’s Daily, where a photo of the standing committee + 1 (former President Jiang Zemin), with Hu Jintao and Jiang Zemin right smack in the middle, accompanies a dry report on the commemoration and the full official text of Hu Jintao’s “important speech.”

Typical of boilerplate Party coverage of official activities, and basically identical to the Xinhua version, the People’s Daily report begins:

Beijing, October 9 — A major conference to commemorate the 100th anniversary of the Xinhai Revolution was held ceremoniously in the Great Hall of the People this morning. General Secretary of the Chinese Communist Party, National President and Chairman of the Central Military Commission Hu Jintao (胡锦涛) made an important speech. He emphasized that 100 years ago, revolutionary Party members represented by Sun Yat-sen (孙中山) launched the Xinhai Revolution, which shook the world, beginning a social transformation such as China had never before seen. Today, we solemnly commemorate the 100th anniversary of the Xinhai Revolution . . .

The report notes, of course, that the rest of China’s powerful politburo standing committee were also in attendance: Wu Banguo, Wen Jiabao, Jia Qinglin, Li Changchun, Xi Jinping, Li Keqiang, He Guoqiang, Zhou Yongkang. But again, Jiang Zemin (江泽民), Hu Jintao’s predecessor as President, and still a powerful political player, is added to the beginning of the name list, given place of pride right after Hu Jintao and before the other 8.
In the People’s Daily, the underlined portion above (and some text immediately following) is emphasized in a bold pull-quote at the top right of the page, a place usually occupied in the newspaper by another major policy announcement.
We’ll avoid the temptation of parsing Hu Jintao’s speech in commemoration of the 100th anniversary of the Xinhai Revolution. In our view, this speech has little political significance in and of itself, the only substantial sign emerging from the commemoration ceremony being the appearance and prominent positioning of former President Jiang Zemin.
Coverage of the Xinhai Revolution anniversary in today’s mainland newspapers seems to follow two basic lines. First, there are the People’s Daily copycats, running coverage and framing coverage in exactly the same way as the chief Party newspaper. This is actually quite typical of what we generally see nationwide, across the board, in the official Party newspapers whenever a single story — such as a national conference or other major national or international event — dominates.
Here is a composite of four major Party newspapers — the People’s Daily, the Liberation Army Daily, Guangming Daily and Economic Daily — made by media microblogger Old Media Wang (传媒老王) today. The affinities should be clear to all.

This “mainstream” treatment of today’s big story seems to have been adopted uniformly across Party newspapers today. The treatment is also used by some commercial metro newspapers. Here for example is Changjiang Daily, the official Party newspaper in the city of Wuhan, followed by the front page of Wuhan Morning Post, a commercial spin-off of Changjiang Daily:

Both of the newspapers above differ from the People’s Daily in the way they have given the Xinhai Revolution commemoration story prominent position, but have offered only brief front page coverage, instead referring readers to the inside pages.
The upper right-hand corner of the Changjiang Daily front page has a story about cultural sector reforms in Wuhan. Below the fold are other local stories, including local coverage of the anniversary commemoration, and a story about a visit to Wuhan by a former chief engineer for Boeing.
But a handful of newspapers in China decided to pull their own news angles out of the Xinhai Revolution commemoration story. This was the case with major newspapers in southern Guangdong province, which has a reputation for slightly bolder media.
Nanfang Daily, the province’s official Party newspaper, opted for the same photograph of Hu Jintao and Jiang Zemin that was used by many foreign and Hong Kong media in their reports on internal Party power plays and Jiang’s role.
The large headline at Nanfang Daily draws from Hu Jintao’s remarks on cross-straits relations between mainland China and Taiwan: “Increasing a national spirit of sticking together through thick and thin; with one heart, realizing the rejuvenation of our people.”

The front page of Southern Metropolis Daily, a commercial spin-off of Nanfang Daily regarded as one of China’s top professional publications, is much the same as that of its “mother paper” (母报). The main photo is of Hu Jintao and Jiang Zemin smiling and shaking hands. The headline again is about cross-straits relations, this time the portion about “one heart” quoting directly from Hu instead of paraphrasing: “With one heart, realizing the great rejuvenation of the Chinese people; this should become the common goal to work toward on both sides of the straits.”

The headline at Southern Metropolis Daily in particular has a strange ring as it is juxtaposed with the photo of Hu and Jiang shaking hands. This is nothing more than the editor’s personal feeling here, but I couldn’t help but wonder if the newspaper wasn’t trying to slip in a bit of commentary about reaching across divides within the Party as well. (I welcome thoughts from native news junkies.)
But the starkest and most telling of contrasts may be offered by newspapers in Shanghai, China’s financial center, and of course the city from which Jiang Zemin emerged political in the aftermath of June 4, 1989. Here is the front page of Wen Hui Bao, the official newspaper of the Shanghai committee of the Chinese Communist Party — in other words, the “mouthpiece” of the city’s top Party leaders.

Wen Hui Bao is virtually a mirror image of the People’s Daily, austere and packed with official content. But here is today’s Oriental Morning Post, one of Shanghai’s leading commercial newspapers, which in recent years has also distinguished itself somewhat with its stronger investigative coverage and editorial page.

The headline is a tribute to the anniversary, not so different from the paper’s Party counterparts. It reads: “.” But the entire space below is swallowed by a brilliant advertisement for the luxury watch brand Rolex.
And in many ways, that says it all.

Today marks the one-hundredth anniversary of the start of the Xinhai Revolution in China, which overthrew the country’s last imperial dynasty, the Qing, and eventually led to the founding of the Republic of China in 1912. It was on October 10, 1911, that revolutionary leaders in Hubei staged an rebellion against local Qing authorities in what is known as the Wuchang Uprising.
While the anniversary is of great historical, cultural and political significance to China (and of course to Taiwan), the main political messages of the revolution — democracy and equality — make treatment of the anniversary on the mainland a delicate matter for Chinese leaders.
To commemorate the anniversary, we have translated an interview that QQ History, the history-related section of the major Chinese web portal QQ.com, did earlier this month with Guangzhou historian Yuan Weishi (袁伟时). Some readers may remember Yuan as the writer of an article on the Boxer Rebellion that in early 2006 was one reason cited by propaganda officials for the suspension of the Freezing Point supplement of China Youth Daily.

Tencent History: We have a traditional saying that goes: The Xinhai Revolution overthrew a corrupt authoritarian Qing government, and toppled the system of feudalist authoritarian monarchy. But some scholars (such as Feng Tianyu) have pointed out that no such feudal system (封建制) existed from the Qin and Han dynasties on down. And other scholars (such as Hou Xudong) point out that ancient China was not an authoritarian society. The idea among people today that ancient China was a feudal system comes principally from language about China from the modern Western world. How do you see this? What the Xinhai Revolution overturned, was that a feudal authoritarian system?
Yuan Weishi: What kind of society was traditional Chinese society? This was debated fiercely in the 1930s. Among scholars, most believe that the Western Zhou (西周) was a feudal society. Relatively few people believe that society after the Western Zhou was feudal. Fan Wenlan (范文澜) and others propose this view. Feng Tianyu and others have restated some things from the 1930s. Of course they have new arguments, but already before this there were few scholars who believed this [that society was feudal]. Traditional Chinese society was an authoritarian society based on the patriarchal clan system (宗法专制社会), and not a feudal society. The Western Zhou was a feudal society, but the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods were a period of transition, so that by the Qin an authoritarian society based on the patriarchal clan system (宗法专制社会) had already been established.
Tencent History: But now we talk about how it was a “feudal society,” and that’s still what we say.
Yuan Weishi: Yes. But to say it was not an authoritarian society, this view I’m afraid is a bit far-fetched, and not the conclusion made by historical scholars. I don’t know who has proposed this reading, but my impression is that they are not real historical scholars. As to true historical scholars who hold that view, I’m afraid there aren’t any. There is a trend of Confucian revivalism right now that wants to deny that political power [in China] over 2,000 years was authoritarian.
Tencent History: There are contemporary advocates of Confucianism who say traditional Chinese society was not an authoritarian society.
Yuan Weishi: This view is there simply to bolster their goal of advocating and beautifying Confucianism. I don’t think this is right. Because it falls so far short of the reality of Chinese society. Those who advocate Confucianism, including some historians, really want to cast about within traditional Chinese culture looking for something legitimate, and they believe that calling it authoritarian means negating it entirely. And so there are those who research the powers of the [ancient] chancellors (宰相权), believing that chancellors could check the power of the emperor, that ministers could check the emperor’s power. Huang Renyu (黄仁宇) is also of this view.
Tencent History: Huang Renyu (黄仁宇) has said that the emperor was just something symbolic and abstract.
Yuan Weishi: I’m afraid that’s just not how it was. This is really taking it too extremes. I’m afraid this is because Mr. Huang Renyu focuses his research on the 48 years of the Wanli Emperor’s reign, during which time imperial power was for a long time disregarded. But as he has said himself: “The Wanli Emperor is an exception in history not equalled before or after.” Not long after the death of Zhang Juzheng (张居正), [the 47th chancellor of the Ming Dynasty], as the family’s property was ransacked, some of its elders committed suicide and other family members were starved to death, the power of the emperor was demonstrated once again. And there’s another saying, that China has a “system of orthodox [Confucian] teachings,” that it has a spiritual [or moral] system outside the orthodoxy of imperial power.
Tencent History: A political orthodoxy and a moral orthodoxy?
Yuan Weishi: That’s right. Which is to say that in the past intellectual elites could check imperial power, which was called “doing the bidding of morals, not of monarchs” (从道不从君), there was a saying like that. But there is a problem it’s quite difficult for this idea of “moral authority” (道统说) to deal with. In imperial times there were a small number of intellectual elites who dared to uphold certain principles and oppose imperial power, what might more politely be called laying down one’s life for a just cause (舍生取义). Any society will have a handful of such people. But they did not constitute a power network (权力系统). They had no way of providing real opposition to the emperor, and with a word the emperor could end their lives. This so-called moral “moral authority” is more imaginative than anything else. Some people say that the system of moral authority began as early as King Wen of Zhou (文武周公), and was passed on through Confucius, Mencius, Zhu Xi and right on down to Sun Yat-sen (孙中山). Some people have even now added Dong Zhongshu (董仲舒) into the mix. But one such man comes along every few hundred years or every thousand years — could their influence really check that of the emperor?
Tencent History: So we could say that the phenomenon of so-called “moral authority” checking “imperial authority” isn’t something systematized, but maybe just about a number of strong personalities.
Yuan Weishi: Really, it’s about the influence of Confucian thoughts. But from the Qin and Han dynasties on, China has been an authoritarian society based on the patriarchal clan system (宗法专制社会). What Confucianism sustained, whether we’re talking about institutional or cultural influence, was a governing system in which the ruler governed his subjects (君为臣纲). Economically, it was an agricultural natural economy (自然经济式的农业经济).
Tencent History: An economy based on small-time farming.
Yuan Weishi: In any case, the pre-modern agricultural economy, and the pre-modern natural economy, relied on an authoritarian imperial system. Of course, the degree of authoritarianism in any dynasty or rule differed. In the Ming and Qing dynasties, the authoritarianism of imperial power reached new heights. In the Qing dynasty there weren’t even chancellors, and the emperor directly dealt with political affairs, both big and small. And so, what they wanted to overturn [during the Xinhai Revolution] was this sort of authoritarian political power. Another question involved here is: What was the objective of the revolution? We couldn’t say that previous over-turnings of dynasties or rules brought the building of any new social systems. Previous instances were resoundingly things like . . .
Tencent History: Hong Xiuquan (洪秀全) and the Taiping Rebellion.
Yuan Weishi: That was fundamentally not any sort of revolution, but it was a peasant war (农民战争) of the kind we had seen throughout the past. It didn’t seek revolution, but rather the rebuilding of the system on the old pattern. Hong Xiuquan‘s so-called “land system of the heavenly kingdom” (天朝田亩制度) was quite a reactionary program, a program of extreme authoritarianism. He called for the abolishment of private property, and the building of an authoritarian political system based on religious authority.
Tencent History: Politics and religion as one.
Yuan Weishi: Politics and religions as one, a system of religious authoritarianism. Later on, through the self-strengthening movement (洋务运动) [or “Westernization movement”], the fostering of new economic forms in China was encouraged. Naturally, this economic activity was run by the government, and later morphed into a system whereby the government supervised the actions of merchants, so that the role of merchants grew, then some private capital was invited in and at the same time the door to China was opened, allowing for foreign investment.
Many factors working all together encouraged the development of a capitalist economy in our country. In some areas, particularly along rivers and coastal areas, along the Yangtze River and in the Pearl River Delta, places with convenience of transport, a capitalist economy developed quite strongly. So-called foreign-invested enterprises in some areas were actually in many cases Chinese investments happening under the auspices of foreign investment, fake foreign devils, if you will, that were posing as foreign investment or cozying up to it. By doing this they could enjoy tax benefits. Foreign-invested enterprises could pay less tax by paying a 50 percent duty, in which case there were exempted from paying taxes [NOTE: The terms in Chinese here are 厘金 and 子口税. Those interested are encouraged to check our translation with the original, as our knowledge of 19th century Chinese trade policies is insufficient].
Domestic enterprises could not enjoy these favorable policies. So called “lijin” (厘金), [or ‘tax levies’], referred to the various tolls and taxes set up by various local authorities in China, which severely inhibited the development of a capitalist economy in China. But nevertheless new economic sectors and a free economy continued to develop, and a new class of urban residents emerged. This was similar to what has been seen in other countries. As for the Xinhai Revolution, it was mostly not about resolving economic issues, but about solving the authoritarian system in politics, about demanding democracy, about protecting the freedom and equality of citizens. These were at the heart of modern revolutions, and they were the most basic demands voiced during the Xinhai Revolution.