Author: David Bandurski

Now Executive Director of the China Media Project, leading the project’s research and partnerships, David originally joined the project in Hong Kong in 2004. He is the author of Dragons in Diamond Village (Penguin), a book of reportage about urbanization and social activism in China, and co-editor of Investigative Journalism in China (HKU Press).

An editorial provokes, then vanishes

When I noticed yesterday morning that journalist Guo Yukuan (郭宇宽), for whom I have great respect, had written another editorial for Southern Metropolis Daily, I made a mental note to come back to it later in the day, when time allowed. Visiting the newspaper’s main site that evening, however, I found that Guo’s piece had been “deleted” — at least through the link given on the homepage.
For the first time I can remember, I ran up against an apologetic notice at the website of China’s leading professional newspaper. This is what I was given:


“We’re sorry,” it said. “This article has already been deleted!”
Hmm. Had Guo Yukuan written something too provocative? . . . Well, I have not been able to determine yet what exactly the back story is here. For all I know, there could be some sort of technical explanation. But I did manage without much difficulty to track the editorial down with a targeted search of the headline — it’s still buried in the newspaper’s site — and I have an answer to my question. Yes, Guo has written something quite provocative, indeed.

[ABOVE: The homepage of Southern Metropolis Daily on May 6, 2010, with Guo Yukuan’s editorial indicated with a red arrow.]
The editorial begins — and ends, in fact — as an interesting and thoughtful piece about the true meaning of charity and philanthropy. Using the news peg of a recent awards event for philanthropy in China, Guo urges his country, and particularly his government, to be more careful, thoughtful and professional in praising and awarding its supposed charitable givers.
But as he editorializes on the question of whether Niu Gensheng (牛根生), the founder and director of Mengniu Group, one of the companies implicated in the poisoned milk scandal of 2008, really deserves his Lifetime Achievement Award for China Philanthropy, Guo touches some very tender nerves regarding Niu Gensheng’s charitable fund itself.
After raising some simple, and serious, questions about exactly why Niu’s fund is such a “mystery,” Guo treads into the territory of the Shanghai pensions scandal of 2006, China’s biggest corruption scandal in years. Zhang Rongkun (张荣坤), one of the top people implicated in that scandal, was for years celebrated at government galas as a champion of charitable work.
The missing link at Southern Metropolis Daily could have a far more simple explanation. But it is also conceivable that Guo Yukuan’s inferences hit too close to someone’s mark.
Whatever the case, the editorial is delightful, and we reproduce it here.

What is the Lifetime Achievement Award for China Philanthropy?
By Guo Yukuan (郭宇宽)
Southern Metropolis Daily
May 6, 2010
A few days ago, the Announcement Ceremony for the 2010 China Charity Ranking was held, guided by the Ministry of Civil Affairs, sponsored by the China Social Work Association (中国社会工作协会), [a group registered and under the supervision of the MCA], and put on by Community Times (公益时报), [which is published by the aforementioned association]. One thing that really drew people’s attention about this ranking was that Mengniu Dairy Group’s Niu Gensheng (牛根生) was the recipient of the 2010 Lifetime Achievement Award for China Philanthropy (2010中国慈善事业终身成就).
This is truly stunning. It is well known that Chairman Niu’s record in facing responsibility toward the parents of children harmed in the melamine-tainted milk scandal [of 2008] falls far short of what we should expect from a socially responsible entrepreneur. Of course, Niu Gensheng has a rather high profile for his charitable actions. In 2005 he took his equity interest in Mengniu, which was said to have totaled some five billion yuan, and used it to set up the “Old Niu Fund” (老牛基金) with the stated intention of using it for philanthropy. If this is really the case, that is a considerable sum indeed. Considering dividends, that should amount to more than one billion to be applied to charity each year. On the Web I saw a figure that said that “in 2009, Niu Gensheng’s donations surpassed 418 million yuan.” That, for China’s starving private charity sector, is no small number to be sure.
But this fund’s operations have been “played down” in quite a surprising way, or perhaps I should say mysterious. A charitable fund of such enormous scale, and yet it has no Website of its own. How does it operate? What are its funding rules? And how can civil charity organizations apply to them for assistance? Even if you try dialing “114” for information, you cannot obtain any contact information whatsoever concerning this “Old Niu Fund.” And when I spoke to friends in the charity sector, they too were at a loss. Where has all that money “Old Niu Fund” is reputed to have spent in fact gone?
The limited number of references you can find to its charitable giving are things like, the “Old Niu Fund donated 300,000 yuan for the building of 100 cisterns in drought-effected areas” . . . One rather large donation was 6.3 million, which was given “to the office of the National Red Army Primary School Construction Project.” These certainly deserve encouragement. However, it’s surely difficult to see how they merit a Lifetime Achievement Award.
This way of giving prizes somewhat resembles the way the Motion Picture Academy gives out Honorary Awards at the Oscars each year, but no one is quite sure about what classic films this “famous actor” played in. Hasn’t this slid into the ridiculous? It seems that this charity ceremony is a bit phony, and a bit elitist.
I could not help but think of Zhang Rongkun (张荣坤), the number-two character in the Shanghai pensions scandal. In 2001, Zhang Rongkun raised two million yuan at a charity event for the Shanghai Charity Foundation, and he won the “Champions” award among charitable donations by private enterprises in Shanghai. He said stirringly: “As I see it, if you give one million, it just means not buying one car you might have, or one apartment you might have.” After that, Zhang Rongkun won Shanghai’s “Charity Star,” the Ministry of Civil Affairs “Advanced Individual” honor and many other government awards. In May 2002, Zhang Rongkun became Honorary Vice President of Education for the Shanghai Charity Foundation. In July, he served as Vice President of the Shanghai Federation of Industry. In August, he served as Honorary President of Shanghai Public Relations Association, and later became a national delegate to the Chinese People’s Political Consultative
Congress.
Only when the pensions scandal broke did people begin to realize just how this “Charity Star” had used charity as a stepping stone in his plan of winning the sympathies of official’s wives and ultimately cozying up to power. No one thought to ask where Zhang Rongkun’s charitable donations had been applied, or what they had actually accomplished.
Perhaps Zhang Rongkun is a rather extreme choice as an example. But lately the media has reached high pitch in singing certain charitable tones, and it makes people wonder at how philanthropists are more common than ever, and how charitable giving seems to have become a very fashionable stage to strut upon. If we compile our rankings on the basis of how much money someone claims to have donated, and if we don’t look at what value those donations have actually had before we label this or that person a “philanthropist,” then I’m afraid to say that Zhang Rongkun well deserves a “Lifetime Achievement Award for Charity.”
Another example is America’s Rockefeller, who in 1913 founded the Rockefeller Fund in New York City in his own name. During the first year he made a decision to provide funds to China, which at the time Westerners regarded as a “heathen” nation racked by disease. So the board of directors proposed that “an effective system of medicine be developed in China in a gradual and orderly manner.” And it was this fund that was the origin of the Peking Union Medical College (协和医学院), which is so famous in China. China’s first generation of modern leaders in medicine, such as Lin Qiaozhi (林巧稚) and Wu Jieping (吴阶平), all emerged from Union Medical College. Union Medical College not only taught its students to seek professionalism, but fostered in them a sense of dedication and responsibility toward their own people. Even the model of the “barefoot doctor” (赤脚医生) was created by graduate Chen Zhiqian (陈志潜) after he returned to China
having received his masters in public health from Harvard University.
The meaning of charity lies in how remarkable people use their wealth or their abilities in richly creative ways for the benefit of their fellows. If we do not encourage Rockefeller’s spirit in China, and do not treat serious philanthropists whose charity is real with a professional approach, but rather award these philanthropists who always crop up in the figures but not through their actual work with Lifetime Achievement Awards, this will only draw greater ridicule and spoil the atmosphere of charity in China.

The China Model, matter or myth?

As China has sought to raise its prestige and influence in the world through a concerted campaign of “soft power,” one idea that has gripped officials and intellectuals alike is that of a China Model, a system of syncretized lessons from China’s experiences over the past three (or six?) decades, and an alternative to dominant Western models such as the so-called “Washington Consensus.”
So far, one of the China’s domestic masterworks on the China Model has been The China System: Reading 60 Years of the People’s Republic of China (中国模式—解读人民共和国的60年), published by the Central Compilation and Translation Press at the end of December 2009, and edited by Pan Wei (潘维), the director of Peking University’s Center for Chinese and Global Affairs.
The collection includes writings by Gao Liang (高粱), a researcher with the National Development and Reform Commission’s Institute of Economic Systems and Management, Zhang Baijia (章百家), a researcher with the CCP Historical Research Center, Wen Tiejun (温铁军), head of Renmin University of China’s School of Agricultural Economics and Rural Development, Hu Angang (胡鞍钢), a professor at Tsinghua University’s School of Public Policy and Management, Wang Shaoguang (王绍光), a professor in the Department of Government and Public
Administration
at the Chinese University of Hong Kong, Tsinghua University sociology professor Li Qiang (李强), and others.


In his own essay for the collection, Pan Wei writes of the China Model as a massive and glorious creature, hearkening back to ancient Chinese mythology: “The scale of the China System (中华体制) is massive, and could perhaps be called the ‘Kunpeng System’ [after the vast bird of Chinese legend]. Its head is people-based politics, its state system (社稷体制) is the body, and the national economy (国民经济) is its wings . . .”
But other scholars in China, and outside, wonder whether the China Model isn’t as mythical indeed as Kunpeng (鲲鹏).
The following is a portion of an editorial by Hua Sheng (华生) written for the Economic Observer last month. Hua Sheng’s article, which takes issue with the whole idea of an existing China Model, was recently re-posted in the blog section at Caixin Media, Hu Shuli’s post-Caijing media venture.

The China Model We Could Have But Don’t
By Hua Sheng (华生)
Economic Observer, April 2, 2010
I’m talking today about the China Model. My view is quite simple. I think that while “China Model” is useful as a fashionable term, it’s something we don’t yet have. The most we can say is that China is seeking its own road, searching for its own way forward. But this cannot be called a model, because it’s still unclear, unformed and unstable. Generally speaking, when we talk about models we talk about relatively fixed frameworks that have already taken shape and are quite stable.
First, looking at China’s economic shape. After reform and opening, our economy changed from a simple system of public ownership to a mixed ownership system. But we are now still in an unstable situation. There is no consensus on how much various types of ownership account for, and how public assets and shares should be managed. This can be glimpsed from the varying voices [on this question] appearing in the media. Right now, generally speaking, mixed or diversified ownership (混合所有制) is a transitional phase, and cannot constitute a fixed direction or model. It can be said that the economic mode of the entire country is in a state of instability.
Second, the same holds true for China’s political system. The political system of highly concentrated power that we had before has undergone some changes since economic reform and opening, but of late we have still not found — or perhaps, we should say, have not built — a political system that is capable of internal balance and stable operation. Stepping beyond ideology here, we can say that our political life still lacks principals of openness and transparency. This is just as true for our ruling party, the Communist Party, which has not yet internally been able to build workable mechanisms [for openness and transparency]. Some [so-called mechanisms] are merely principles, like democratic centralism (民主集中制), but have no procedural basis and are difficult to concretely implement, and so they are unstable. These [principles] can operate much as they did in Mao Zedong’s era, with everyone raising their hands and agreeing to them in principle, but inside they are empty, expressing only the wills of various [political] personalities . . . Therefore, today’s system, looked at from the standpoint of our political mode [or culture], is not a stable model.
Finally, we can say the same thing when we look at culture and ideology. There is a massive gap between our original dominant ideology and our present economic and social realities, and this is why we now see so much chaos in ideas and morals.
Given these facts, I don’t believe there is any such thing as a China Model or a Beijing Consensus. Because this model, or this consensus, has yet to emerge.
Still, I am an optimist. A China Model could exist, and it is something we can search for. We don’t necessarily have to take the same path as others. And others’ paths may not be right for us. I do not support another extreme view, which says that China’s achievements today are not worth mentioning, that it has just been stepping closer to the West. That would seem to suggest that all research is pointless. I don’t support that view, because China does have its own unique history, culture and prevailing circumstances.
Moreover, the experiences of the past 30 years have shown that Chinese can blaze a path of relative success. The development China has experienced in the past 30 years does surpass all the achievements of the past several hundred years, and this is something the whole world has noticed. So I am equally opposed to the suggestion that we don’t have our own values, that we haven’t chalked up our own successes, that there aren’t lessons to be drawn [from our experiences].
But if we really do want to carve out a China Model, then we have a great deal of work ahead of us, economically, politically and culturally.

Zhan Jiang: Can the ACJA Lay Off Journalists?

In an interview published at Caixin Media, Hu Shuli’s post-Caijing venture, on April 30, CMP fellow Zhan Jiang discusses a recent policy announced by Wuhan’s local chapter of the All-China Journalists Association (ACJA). According to the policy, any journalist who makes serious factual errors as a result of “insufficient depth and detail of reporting” (采访不深入不细) will be immediately laid off without exception and then handled accordingly:

. . . Zhan Jiang believes that the ACJA, the consumers association and other industry organizations will move from organs controlled by the government to true non-governmental organizations through the course of China’s transition, but for a number of reasons they are now caught in between. China must accelerate the creation of of relevant laws for social organizations in order to avoid this ‘ridiculous’ and ‘silly’ state of affairs.
Zhan Jiang firmly opposes the methods of the journalists association in Wuhan, but he “hopes this is just a gimmick they are using to puff themselves up.”
Without a doubt, China’s news media are now in a situation of chaos, with media and journalists operating with a sense of idealism and conscience on the one hand, and others simply looking for personal benefit or a springboard [for other ventures]. However, Zhan Jiang points out that the relationship between the rights and obligations of the news media should be determined by law, and not be subject to control by arbitrary people.

Read the full article at Caixin Media.

What's wrong with official right of way?

It was not a holiday or a vacation, and yet classes were suspended for more than 10,000 students in Shucheng County, Anhui Province, on April 26 and 27. Why? Because Shucheng was holding an official conference attended by around 400 party leaders. The deputy county chief of Shucheng explained that the decision had been made in order to avoid traffic congestion.
We hear about this kind of thing all the time, and have witnessed it ourselves — how the way is cleared for our leaders at the expense of the rest of us. It has become routine for us, the little people, to bow aside whenever our leaders set foot into the world.
However, suspending classes because leadership meetings are being held is apparently something rather fresh and new. A county-level city receives visits from 400 leaders and traffic is suspended, so that 10,000 primary, secondary and kindergarten students must yield and stay at home.
What I’d really like to know is what the rest of the citizens of Shucheng endured for those two days. Were they also told to stay at home and avoid going outdoors? I imagine the police “cleared the way” wherever official motorcades were expected to pass.
For any person of normal intelligence, of course, this official explanation about avoiding traffic congestion is a basic deception. Even outright idiots would see right through it. A county-level city with 10,000 students should have something in the area of fifty or sixty thousand residents. And even if there were real concerns about traffic congestion, it would make much more sense to transport leaders when classes are in session. If the danger of congestion really requires a compromise, then the leaders should yield to the students. Why should more than 10,000 people yield to just 400?
We see that these leaders and cadres, known as public servants (公仆), can suspend school for an entire county just for the sake of a meeting. They don’t see themselves as public servants, in fact, but have always set themselves up as masters. For their own convenience, these masters can make ordinary citizens under their jurisdiction do anything that pleases them. They don’t have the least bit of scruples.
The general practice around the world is that matters concerning our children are major matters. The smooth and normal operation of our schools cannot be disturbed at will. This is more like an article of faith than a mere rule of practice. This was also a firmly held conviction in ancient China. Throughout the dynasties, local officials were prevented from meddling with the operation of schools. No official could flaunt his authority around the schools, and I’ve never heard of any ancient case where visits from imperial officials resulted in the suspension of classes.
In some places in our country, the air is suffocatingly thick with this hat-tipping to officials, to the point that entire communities revolve around the movements of officials. The familiar party slogan “serving the people” (为人民服务) has become instead “serving our leaders.” The notion of “everything for the masses” (一切为了群众), and “everything for the children” (一切为了孩子), has become “everything for our leaders.”
We bend over backwards to ensure that our leaders are convenienced and comfortable, even if it means that 10,000 children cannot attend classes and the normal order of their studies is upset.
This idea of slavishly accommodating our leaders is not something we see in Shucheng alone. But Shucheng seems to be in a league of its own in treating its children and citizens like weeds.
Just imagine, if the issue at hand were the safety of party leaders, what sort of feats they would be capable of.

The Seven How to Sees 七个怎么看

In an April 10, 2010, speech to top propaganda ministers from around China, Central Propaganda Department chief Liu Yunshan (刘云山) spoke of the need for awareness in news and propaganda work of a number of social problems that were becoming increasingly “prominent” in the lives of ordinary Chinese.
Liu summed these social issues up with a new formula called the “Seven How To Sees.” They are:
1. How to see uneven development in our country?
2. How to see employment difficulties?
3. How to see the problem of access to healthcare?
4. How to see fairness in educational opportunities?
5. How to see high housing prices?
6. How to see unfairness in wealth distribution?
7. How to see the problem of corruption?
In the course of news and propaganda work, says Liu, these questions must be brought together under the theory, line and policies of the Communist Party.

Hancheng Mine Disaster

Nine workers have died as a gas explosion rocked a mine in Hancheng, Shaanxi Province, and four people responsible for the facility have now been taken into custody by authorities, according to China’s official Xinhua News Agency. Hancheng is located in northeastern Shaanxi, about 240 kilometers from the provincial capital of Xi’an.






陕西韩城致9死矿难4名责任人被刑拘



中新社西安5月1日电(记者 冽玮)记者1日从陕西省有关部门获悉,发生于4月1日、造成9死1伤的陕西韩城泉子沟煤矿瓦斯燃烧事故原因查明,包括矿长朱守怀在内的4人涉嫌重大责任事故罪已被当地警方刑事拘留。



陕西省韩城市位于关中平原东北隅,距省会西安240余公里,矿产资源丰富,其中煤炭储量达103亿吨,其矿区属高瓦斯矿区,煤矿灾害多发区。韩城市泉子沟煤矿是一家证照齐全、年产6万吨的乡镇煤矿,位于距离韩城市区10余公里的龙门镇。今年4月1日19时许,该矿发生瓦斯燃烧事故,当班井下有27人,17人安全升井,9人遇难,1人受伤。其中遇难者有6人为当班矿工,另3人是正在检查安全生产的人员,包括一名主管安全的副矿长。



事故发生后,渭南煤矿安全监察分局、渭南市煤炭局、安监局、检察院等部门成立了事故联合调查组。经调查组初步认定,这是一起生产责任事故。泉子沟煤矿矿长朱守怀以涉嫌重大责任事故罪,被韩城警方刑事拘留。同时涉案的还有该矿生产副矿长、掘进采煤队长和当班瓦检员。(完)


China Megatrends, and why I can't hold my tongue

What I want to write today is a departure from the usual. As readers who follow my blog know, I rarely ever offer criticisms or opinions on articles or books written by others, particularly personal works. It’s generally my belief that even if an author offends universal values and democratic freedoms, his act of speech accords with the exercise of freedom of expression, the most important of our universal values. The best criticism I can offer, therefore, is to exercise my own freedom of expression, and to write essays that articulate my own views and perspectives.
But today I must make an exception. There is a certain book about which I feel that if I don’t write something to pick it apart, my moral being and conscience cannot be at peace. The book to which I refer is John Naisbitt’s China Megatrends. The first time I heard about this book was when Dong Jianhua (董建华), deputy chairman of the National People’s Political Consultative Congress (NPPCC) recommended it to Hong Kong delegates and journalists earlier this year, saying it could help Hong Kong people understand China and its strong points.
Not long after, I bought the book at Guangzhou’s Baiyun International Airport before boarding an international flight. During that twelve-hour journey, there were quite a number of times that the book made my skin crawl, and I could scarcely keep myself from leaping out of the aircraft . . .
Once I was overseas, I set my mind to tracking down the English version [of Naisbitt’s book], because I doubted that this China Megatrends was written by that same person who wrote Megatrends. I suspected, rather, that the book had been written by his Chinese secretary and published under his name. I even thought it possible that I had purchased a black-market book, and that the publisher had dared to print Naisbitt’s name on the cover.
Much to my disappointment, not a single foreign friend of mine had ever heard of this book China Megatrends, which was such the rage in China. Finally, one person told me the book hadn’t even been published in English yet.
Imagine my surprise at learning that a well-known American writer — one who doesn’t even understand Chinese, much less write it — has published a book in Chinese. A foreign author who doesn’t understand Chinese first publishing a book in Chinese, and then coming out with an English version? This must be a first for publishing in both America and China.
Moreover, from the first page onward, you could sense that this was a book written by a foreigner for foreigners, a book in which a foreigner sought to “use the eyes of the Chinese to gaze upon China. To face China’s weaknesses, but not to pass judgement according to our own values and standards.” (Preface, page two) . . .
I have no intention of embarking on an in-depth analysis of the views expressed in this book. Because I can say, on the basis of my limited learning and experience, that such an exercise would be an utter waste of time.
This book is not even worth refuting.
Please do not understand this as my summary verdict [on this book]. Every year I read something like 120 different books, roughly half of which speak against democratic freedoms and universal values, including works of China’s angry youth like those “say NO” books and those “unhappy” books, and even tomes in which Americans refute the notion of democracy. But never have I come across a book like this one by internationally-known author John Naisbitt that I find so shallow and ignorant to the point of shamelessness.
The book is not long, and I think it best to leave as much intact as possible to reflect the book’s theme and ideas — then add on a few comments by Old Yang. The version I have was published by Jilin Publishing Group in September 2009.
Allow me first to describe this book’s biggest distinguishing feature. The book gives greater attention and credence to the discussions, speeches and utterances of the three generations of top leaders since Deng Xiaoping than anything of comparable length [in the official CCP canon], including government work reports and People’s Daily. When I flipped through a few pages and noticed the liberal use of these names and references, I had the impression I was indeed reading a government work report.
I suppose that as a futurist, resorting to the use of the summaries and pledges of the top leaders who are most capable of determining China’s future is a practice beyond reproach. But let me emphasize that never in the last 20 years have a I read a book thicker with the names and utterances of China’s top leaders. In many cases, he writes about the pledges made by leaders as though they bear the hope and guarantee of China’s future. I’m sure that, as an American, Naisbitt is not so credulous about the plans and promises of his own country’s top leaders. So perhaps we should start by thanking him for the unwavering belief he has in China’s leaders!
Another characteristic of this book is its tendency at every point to speak of “China” and the “Chinese people,” so that we are collectively summed up in a single American’s affirmation of who we are. For example: “Chinese people are more inclined to regard themselves as a part of the group. Moreover, they welcome leadership by strong and steady personalities, because this can ensure good performance to the benefit of all” (page 16). “[Chinese people] rejoice at their modern living conditions, and feel that their future is full of promise” (page 17). These sorts of judgements about the “Chinese people” appear everywhere, but nowhere do I see reference to any sort of opinion poll conducted by the author. In fact, if it weren’t for the fact that he is everywhere claiming to represent the “Chinese people,” with conclusions prompting endless surprise from Old Yang, I don’t think it would have occurred to me to break with habit and write this response.
Now, let us relax, take a deep breath, and turn our attention [to the book] . . .
Analyzing China’s own conditions and advantages, it is not difficult to realize that the lines and policies of the Chinese Communist Party are working steadily in the interests of the people” (page 1). “The misunderstandings Western countries have for the political situation in China are far too deep, and the CCP has done too little to explain itself, causing the West to mistakenly believe that the people of China desire Western democracy” (page 56).
Old Yang responds:
I, Old Yang, speaking as a crotchety member of the Chinese Communist Party, would like to express my deepest regret for the party’s insufficiencies in conducting propaganda work — that we should be remiss in properly publicizing our achievements to an American who has never had a Central Propaganda Department, whose government does not operate a single newspaper, and whose nation’s two political parties do not control a single media between them.
As to Naisbitt’s perspicacious observation that my party is “working steadily in the interests of the people,” I offer up my thanks on behalf of the whole party. We too understand that we are “working for the interests of the people.” It’s just that we don’t dare say it out loud. Because the “Chinese people” whose interests we are working for just won’t admit it.
For an American to travel all this way to China, and to use the Chinese language, which he doesn’t understand, to courageously tell us “truths” like this — what kind of animus is this?
Why is it that so many Western countries have always sought to push China to adopt Western democracy, but domestically in China such voices are rarely heard?” (page 1) “The pro-democracy calls that these Western countries so energetically support do not arise out of a thirst for free elections, but rather out of disappointment over the economic situation, and particularly out of disappointment and dissatisfaction with corruption” (page 55).
Old Yang responds:
During the several years in which this book, China Megatrends, was written, Naisbitt came to China many times, and Old Yang traveled many times to the United States and other Western countries. I’m sure my travels have taken me to at least as many places. So I’d like to ask, where are these Western countries that are demanding China adopt Western democracy? Are not those who are now advocating that China progress towards democracy, freedom and rule of law in fact flesh-and-blood Chinese people, as well as CCP members of conscience who cannot bear to see things go on as they are? Where are the statistics to support Naisbitt’s conclusions here?
Old Yang could be regarded as being at the vanguard in promoting democratic freedoms in China, but at no point have we said that we need to copy Western democracy. Nor has any Western government or Westerner approached me at any point and said, look, we support you. In fact, those who have supported Old Yang — by the thousands and tens of thousands — are all Chinese brothers and sisters, from every province, city and village!
If Naisbitt understands the disappointment the Chinese people feel over corruption, then he should know that the experiences of perhaps every nation on earth have proven that systems of democracy and rule of law are the surest means of rooting out corruption. Is there any example on earth of any unelected government that has been able to effectively eliminate corruption?
Many Westerners believe wholeheartedly in the breakthroughs, new ideas and innovation that come with debate and disharmony. But this sort of debate and disharmony are not suited to the psychology of the Chinese, particularly on the difficult question of governance” (page 40).
Old Yang responds:
Yes, Westerners do believe wholeheartedly that breakthroughs, new ideas and innovation come through debate and the interchange of ideas. But since when do Westerners believe “disharmony” can bring new ideas and breakthroughs? Here Naisbitt, it seems, has altered Western ideas to suit Chinese circumstances. Westerners believe, in fact, that harmony is created through debate and argument, rather than through repression and coercion.
Chinese leaders emerge differently than in the West, their legitimacy arising from merit and achievement” (page 27).
Old Yang responds:
How is the legitimacy of leaders determined? This question was resolved long ago, and the Chinese people have no doubts about this. But this American, Naisbitt, wants to go and say that legitimacy is determined by “merit and achievement.” So I’ll ask: when the Japanese invaded and occupied China, building railway systems and opening mines and factories, and developing a number of regional economies, did that mean that their rule of China was legitimated?
This essay was excerpted from an April 28 entry on Yang Hengjun’s weblog, where there is much, much more criticism reserved for Naisbitt’s book.

Media ethics and reporting on school attacks

From Nanping in Fujian Province, to Taizhou in Jiangsu, there have lately been a number of attacks on children that have shaken our society. And as we’ve reflected on these tragedies, a new interest has been triggered in the issue of media ethics.
As a major mainstream news site deleted some information in Internet posts, it explained that the media are not always “obligated to share anything and everything” (有闻必报) they have — implying that the deletion of Internet posts arises out of the sense of responsible media behavior. [Read a play-by-play of how news of yesterday’s attack in Jiangsu was reported in China’s media at CMP Geo Events.]
Those supporting such action argue that the lower levels of our society are prone to emotional responses, and that by “exaggerating” (过度渲染) these responses the media could put more innocent children at risk.
I want to start by correcting some of these exaggerated statements. It is a bit sophistic and misleading to confute the idea of having an “obligation to share anything and everything” and “exaggeration.” There’s no need to argue too much about this. I think most people would agree that the media should not report absolutely everything. Moreover, in reporting cases of homicide, mass media need to show a degree of restraint. They should not exaggerate the process of the crime or the horrors of the scene. And when the needs arises, of course they must respect the privacy of the victims.
What I want to talk about here is whether or not media must or should report on this kind of incident — or whether they should report so heavily on such cases.
Media reports certainly can offer example and inspiration to potential attackers, suggesting to them that physical violence might present an outlet for the venting of their own frustrations or “grievances.” Of course, those who would limit media reports on these grounds see only one aspect of the role of the news media.
The social impact of media reports is diverse and intermixed, and we have to consider a number of aspects together before we can reach a conclusion. There are at least four aspects we should take into consideration.
First of all, the public has a right to know, and they wish to understand the environment in which they live. They want to know what is happening right next to them, and know what problems face our society. Naturally, there are national secrets that cannot be shared publicly. But too many secrets will cause the distortion of society. Besides, if we don’t view public opinion narrowly as the publication of information in mainstream media and on official websites, then the blocking of information is futile anyway. Information won’t spread less quickly by word of mouth. Quite the opposite, rumors and exaggeration will fly.
Secondly, it is a mark of respect and condolence to the victims for the media to draw the attention of the public to such a tragedy, voicing sympathy with the victims and their families, and denouncing the perpetrator. This is a way of caring for and helping the family members of the victims. If such a tragedy were to happen beyond the gaze of society, our insensible joy would no doubt add to the pain of the victims and their families.
Thirdly, media reports serve as a warning system, and in particular put pressure on those responsible for managing our society. They compel everyone to reflect on social problems that face us. That we need to ease underlying social tensions, and that we need to reexamine safety measures at our kindergartens and schools in order to be prepared for the future.
Fourth, news reports on tragedies like this are not simply setting an example to possible future perpetrators — they can also serve as a warning and caution. The suffering of the victims might reawaken the conscience of possible perpetrators. And the outrage of the public might allow cause to see that this sort of act is no way to vent their own frustrations. There is no possible way of knowing how many people are exhorted to violence by media reports of this kind, and how many are encouraged to set their knives down.
For those who have already set their wills on seeking revenge against society, the silence of the media on a tragedy like this one might encourage even more ambitious acts of violence. Their goal is to create terror in the public mind. So killing one does not move you — how about ten, one-hundred, a thousand? This is the logic of the terrorist.
Therefore, it is most important to talk about issues like this, and to think of ways we can prevent them from happening in the future. My guess is that those who oppose media reporting of cases like this would not agree that the community should utterly ignore them. They would suggest that internal channels be used, allowing leaders to understand the situation. Naturally, government leaders will prioritize these cases and find ways to prevent them.
But this way of thinking has already been shown to be false. The prevailing modern view of politics is that it is not essentially virtuous, that only supervision and restriction of power by the will of the people can ensure that power is exercised in their interests. And the will of the people is voiced chiefly through public opinion.
What we can be certain of is that those most opposed to media reporting of incidents like this are local officials. Officials will use any manner of tactics to prevent reporting by the media, while family members of the victims will do everything in their power to get the news out. If you carefully consider the reasons for this difference, you will no longer see only the negative side of media reporting.
This article was originally posted in Chinese at Southern Metropolis Daily.

Chatting with foreign reporters about the Qinghai quake

Three foreign journalists from the United States and Australia phoned me up [after the Qinghai earthquake]. Not to interview me, but hoping I could offer some news angles on the disaster. Recognizing that disasters in China happened all too frequently, they were concerned that if the same reports came one after the other Western audiences might lose interest. And seeing that my own comments on the quake were not appearing on my blog, they had decided to give me a call.
I offered a few points of view, and one of them went like this: in dealing with the quake and the process of reconstruction, Han Chinese and Tibetans could raise mutual trust and understanding . . .
At first they thought I was leading them on, that I’d been ‘harmonized’ to have suggested such a thing. I explained that as a Chinese person, everything I had always seen about Tibetans while in mainland China was singing and dancing, as though all Tibetans did all day long was sing and dance. Once I went overseas, I saw a very different side.
I felt that in the disaster relief and rebuilding effort, mainland television sets would be unable to avoid showing Chinese audiences truer and more authentic pictures, so that more and more Han Chinese would see what Tibetan people and their homes were really like, that they are flesh and blood people like the rest of us, dealing with poverty, suffering and hope.
Afraid these foreign journalists might have misunderstood me, I leapt into action as soon as our conversations were over, quickly putting together some similar ideas on my blog.
I never imagined that these posts would be swiped from the Web so quickly. Even less did I imagine that Cankao Xiaoxi, the mass-circulation digest of foreign news published by Xinhua News Agency, would re-publish my comments right across the banner headlines. In the twinkle of an eye, here I was transformed into “blog writer and social critic Yang Hengjun” [in a translation of a foreign news story] . . . The Xinhua News Agency translation was at roughly the level of those people at the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences who don’t know which three characters to use for Mao Zedong’s name. They even got a character in my name wrong.
* * * * *
One foreign journalist said anxiously a couple of days ago that the earthquake had struck more than 24 hours earlier, but your top leaders have not yet to gone to the scene — what was the deal here? I answered that this was no cause for concern. Not only would top leaders go, I said, but even leaders off on overseas visits [i.e., President Hu Jintao] would come hurrying back to China within the next 24 hours.
As it happened, not 24 hours had passed before a phone call came from the same reporter, who was brimming with warmth and admiration [having learned about President Hu Jintao’s return from his overseas trip]. I listened for a long time before I realized that he really thought I had possessed some sort of inside knowledge, that I had been privy to the decision-making of central party leaders, and that I had shared my inside scoop with him.
I found it really funny, and I asked him — if an earthquake happened in your country and your national leaders were off on overseas visits, what would their response be? He said without hesitation that they would head home right away. Yes, I said. Your leaders would head home right away, so what surprises you about the fact that our party chairman cuts short his overseas trip and returns home? He said nothing, but quickly changed tack. If that’s the case, he said, why do you spend so much time criticizing your leaders? It was my turn to be speechless. I wanted to say to him — you pig head! What good is it if they only go through the superficial motions but spurn the most important core values, and fail to carry out reforms to the system!
* * * * *
This reporter still wouldn’t give up. After we hung up, he managed to find me online. He said, I just can’t understand how it is that you guys manage to always turn disasters into happy affairs. How is it that every time there’s a disaster, you manage to bring it to a “victorious conclusion” (“胜利结束”)? Is it just about the government, he wanted to know. Or is there a popular dimension to it as well? He emphasized that he had spoken to a number of quake victims who had offered thanks this way and that. The only thing they had stopped short of doing was kneeling down on the earth in tribute. But still, so many people had died . . . What was this all about?
That victory, I said, had come through the piling up of the dead — the problem is that the dead cannot accept your interviews, and they have no way of telling you the truth. For those who survived, the fact that they can go on with life is naturally a major victory.
The above is excerpted from a recent entry on Yang Hengjun’s blog.