by Han Han
In the wake of the Sichuan tragedy, the great majority of us have shown generosity, charity, and concern, but after the media’s willful manipulation of a faded film icon’s comments we suddenly have become fierce and savage, with all our talk of blacklisting and dumping and excommunicating, particularly in this unusual period, when everyone is so overwrought because of the terrible loss of life.
If you browse through the chat room comments Chinese people posted in the past few years about the tsunami in Indonesia and the earthquake in Kobe, you’ll find that the bulk of them talk about those events as karma—everywhere you see remarks like “Only six thousand dead, why not six hundred thousand?” Many of us still have a long way to go before we have a truly humanitarian attitude, to refrain from treating others in a way we ourselves would not appreciate being treated, as Confucius once put it. All these Chinese who relished foreign disasters and hailed them as karma and never got around to reflecting critically on their own attitudes—don’t they compare poorly to Sharon Stone, who at least had the sense to realize she’d been wrong? We shouldn’t be so harsh on others, and so indulgent to ourselves. I’m actually surprised that people from those other countries didn’t make a point of collecting all the hostile comments from our Internet users and use them to stir up sentiment to oppose us and boycott us. I guess they are just not as cohesive a force as we are and are unable to come out with such a neat message.
A country needs friends, but our people seem to want only friends who can say nice things about us. We should avoid getting into a situation, however, where, when we really need friends, we find that we’ve boycotted them all and the only foreign friends we’re left with are people more shady than we are. Sharon Stone, to be sure, speaks only for herself, and boycotting her doesn’t mean we are boycotting the United States. But given the full text of her comments, I don’t think she deserves to be condemned in such virulent terms. Our criticism of her is far more extreme than our criticism of the people behind the shoddily built schools and hospitals that collapsed in the earthquake. This demonstrates once again how selective we are in our tolerance of things: We can endure the suffering caused by natural disasters and the bitter fruit of man-made disasters, but what we cannot countenance is foreigners criticizing us. We’re a nation that insists on not airing our dirty laundry and we shoulder our burden in the hope of winning other people’s praise. When that praise is not forthcoming, the weight of our burden gets dumped on their heads.
What I hope most of all to see is that one day, when a foreigner says something insulting that hurts our feelings, we won’t need to have everyone from the highest diplomat to the attendant in the laundromat make a statement about it, and the population at large won’t have to all blow their tops off. As I see it, when others take you to task over some practical issue, all you can do is reason with them. If we can manage not to work ourselves into a fit of hysterics and avoid shitting our pants when somebody criticizes us, we’ll be doing well.
Expressions of personal taste strictly prohibited
June 21, 2008
The other day I remarked that I don’t care for the writings of Ba Jin and Mao Dun. Bing Xin, I said, I find quite unreadable. Many literary critics, however, seem to think that a writer’s overriding professional duty is to keep the joss sticks constantly burning in front of the idols. So they claim to be scandalized. “You have the gall to scold the great masters!” they gasp. “You insult them, you undermine them, and you pour dirty water on them!”
I find this totally bizarre. All I did was give expression to my personal tastes and reveal something about my reading habits. Things don’t get much more routine than this—how can it be such a terrible crime? When I disparaged these authors’ literary ability, these critics—if they are really so filled with righteous indignation—must surely take issue with my evaluation, in which case they ought to explain what is so good about Ba Jin’s, Mao Dun’s, and Bing Xin’s work. If I disagree, that’s fine—it just shows we have different aesthetic standards, and we can simply agree to disagree, and that would be perfectly normal. Or I wouldn’t mind if they told me bluntly, “What an idiot you are to have such poor taste!” But what they say is this: “The masters are not for you to criticize. By doing that you’re forgetting your origins. This is a moral failing that nails you to history’s pillar of shame.”
So, anyone who can’t stomach Bing Xin’s work is going to be nailed to history’s pillar of shame. The critics seem to be anointing some pillar in their own home as “history’s pillar of shame” and anybody they don’t like will get their picture nailed to the pillar. If that’s the case, they should have made the pillar a bit bigger, no? For, if you find little to like about the style and content of certain authors’ work, this violates the moral code, damages the nation, and shows a complete lack of culture.
Actually, I have no trouble identifying authors who in my view are great masters. It’s just that those you call great masters are not, in my eyes, great masters at all—I see them only as authors, or successful authors, and it’s up to me whether or not I like their work. This has got absolutely nothing to do with a person’s moral fiber. And even those people I hail as great masters—I’m perfectly entitled to say to them: “I’m not so keen on this particular aspect of your work.” In the end it all comes down to a point that I’ve made before: The right to choose is a most basic right that you have and that I have, too. It’s a right that everyone has. Of course, you may, if you choose, take the position that you do not have that right.
It’s your right, after all, to renounce your own rights—isn’t that a right that we love to exercise?
Appendix:
Highlights from the critics’ commentaries
“Compared to the great masters, people like Han Han not only lack literary talent, but also literary training and personal cultivation, as well as a sense of mission and responsibility toward our literary heritage.”
“We must never forget our origins, and even less should we curse our origins. This is a moral imperative; this is the moral compass that has guided the Chinese people for thousands of years. Whoever rejects our cultural heritage will end up nailed to history’s pillar of shame.”
“The masters are not to be casually doubted and sniped at. We are not qualified to do that.”
“To belittle the value of the great masters has appalling consequences; it is extraordinarily wicked and damaging.”
“To bad-mouth the universally accepted literary giants is an insult to a nation’s literary dignity. To maintain respect for literary giants is an essential code of honor for a people and for a writer. We find it deeply regrettable that such erroneous and misleading opinions have been disseminated.”
I’ll do whatever it takes to be an Olympics sponsor
July 17, 2008
Recently, as the opening of the Beijing Olympics gets even closer, I’ve seen reports that our government has begun suddenly to show concern for the protection of intellectual property rights. It’s not the case that our government failed in the past to give adequate emphasis to intellectual property rights—it’s that the government never thought they existed. It’s very gratifying to hear that, with the Olympics, it’s finally going to pay some attention.
I gather that, during the Games, you will not be allowed to upload to your blog photos or videos of Olympic events that you may have taken with your cell phone, because that would violate the Olympics’ intellectual property rights; offenders will be fined. And within a set distance from the Olympic venues, there will be a prohibition on the display of advertisements by companies that are competitors to Olympic sponsors. This is a matter of national importance, and no objections will be tolerated. I hear, too, that commercials featuring Olympic athletes—the Chinese hurdler Liu Xiang included—will be banned from broadcast for close to a month, unless they are commercials for Olympic sponsors. In other words, because Cadillac sponsors Liu Xiang—of course, the money doesn’t all go to him, a good deal of it goes to
the Sports General Bureau—their advertisements will have to be banned, and for a whole month there will be a moratorium on commercials in which Olympic athletes appear.
I am deeply touched that our government is being so assiduous in protecting the intellectual property rights of the Olympics and its financial sponsors. I knew about its penchant for banning books, films, and Tang Wei,9 but it hadn’t occurred to me that it was quite capable of banning athletes’ commercials as well.
It’s fortunate that there’s no motor-racing event in the Olympics, otherwise I’d be part of the national team and my books would be prohibited from being sold for a month, so that I wouldn’t gain unfair monetary advantage from the Olympics. However, I have been looking forward to the protection of intellectual property rights for so many years, and it’s enormously encouraging now to finally see light at the end of the tunnel, even if this light is not shining on everyone whose intellectual property rights deserve to be protected. But, taking a wider view, focusing on the national interest, I am not going to demand that the government protect my intellectual property rights, nor do I demand that the government clamp down on the hundred books spuriously attributed to me or the thousands of pirated copies of my work. Compared to the Olympics, what do my losses amount to? Compared to the financial sponsors, what do the taxes I pay amount to? But I do have a dream—to sponsor the Olympics.
If, by selling book rights and selling my car and selling my house and selling myself, I can qualify to be a minor sponsor for the Olympics, and if that helps the government finally realize that someone who writes books also has intellectual property rights, and if it then is willing to come to my aid by clamping down on piracy, then I will become the first (and only) writer in China to possess intellectual property rights.
Faking it
August 14, 2008
These days everyone is talking about the Olympics pantomime: how young Lin Miaoke seemed to be singing a song, but actually the voice was that of seven-year-old Yang Peiyi. This fact was revealed in an interview with Chen Qigang, musical director of the opening ceremony.
The gist of Chen’s remarks was: One of the girls had a better voice and the other had better looks. To protect our national image, we paired Lin Miaoke’s looks with Yang Peiyi’s voice.
Of course, putting it that way was not very appropriate and so provoked a great deal of consternation. Yang Peiyi, after all, does not look so horrific as to damage the national image, nor does Lin Miaoke sing so disastrously as to wreck our international standing. But I understand perfectly that in the context of the Beijing Olympics any interview is bound to emphasize the national interest, and intentionally or unintentionally it’s easy to end up focusing on that, so, at worst, it was just a clumsy way of putting it. But what’s more important—and what I personally admire—is that Chen Qigang was willing to explain what really happened. Even if the truth would eventually have come out, had Chen not been so candid it would be at least several months before people learned the truth. Lin Miaoke’s family, for sure, would never have dreamed of talking about it, and Yang Peiyi’s family would have kept quiet, at least for the time being, and the relevant government departments certainly wouldn’t have spilled the beans. Besides, this is not such a big deal—it was just a bit of lip-synching, after all. There’s no shortage of examples—is there?—of us cooking up some fake act, although we know we shouldn’t. Everyone has built up a tolerance for these acts of deception, so don’t act as though it’s unacceptable just because it’s a major event. Isn’t it absolutely typical of us to play-act all the more, the bigger the event? And what Chen said simply illustrates that fact.
So I don’t think it’s at all reasonable to make a whipping boy out of Chen Qigang. Just because someone who tells the truth didn’t explain things with the utmost delicacy, you dump on him all the bile that has been provoked by the bad habits that the state itself has cultivated—how does this make sense? In a country where things are being faked all over the place, in an opening ceremony that focuses on showmanship rather than art, to put on a pantomime is no big deal. Everyone happily accepted Lin Miaoke’s appearance, just as they felt Yang Peiyi’s voice was lovely, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Lin Miaoke won acclaim, but Yang Peiyi did not, so for Chen Qigang to take the lead in making sure that Yang Peiyi gets the honor she deserves and for him to be so frank and honest—particularly at this moment, in this system we have—is something I can only applaud.
Sex + Soccer = Scandal?
August 29, 2008
Today I read a report that an executive officer of the China Soccer Association, when summing up the reasons for the poor showing of the Chinese national soccer team at the Beijing Olympics, directed criticism at one of the players, because during the tournament he rented a hotel room, checking in at 9:50pm and checking out at 10:20pm. Although his exercise routine was on the short side, it’s very clear what he was up to.
This player is very unfortunate. For a start, it’s clear to us all that the team’s poor performance has very little to do with his workout in the hotel room. After all, it’s not the case that if a player goes for a whole month without making love, he’ll be ready to shoot as soon as he gets on the field.
The point that the official was trying to emphasize was the importance of discipline and obedience. But in sport, particularly a team sport, what determines the quality of the performance is how well the players play, and not that they refrain from checking into hotel rooms or growing their hair long or getting tattoos or wearing strange outfits. I’m not saying, of course, that if they were free to do all these things they would play any better.
In the Chinese soccer world, what we most lack are players with individual flair. But my hunch is that players with individual flair will never emerge under the current Soccer Association leadership, because the soccer system is just like the Chinese educational system—it places far too much emphasis on comprehensive development and collective mentality. Given the way the Chinese players pass the ball, I think they’d do better to hold on to it, for every time they take a step forward even my mother can tell who’s going to pass to whom—never mind their opponents. So, beginning with the younger generation of players, they should all focus on dribbling and pass the ball only when there’s no other option. Even if such a team gets lousy results, at least we might be able to remember their names.
Going back to the hotel room issue, it’s actually very common for a player to check into a hotel room before a competition, and it’s not reasonable to expect a player to refrain just because his ability is not that great. Similarly, in car-racing—the sport with which I’m familiar—taking a girl to a room is just a matter of course, no matter whether drivers are foreign or domestic or whether they’re top competitors or also-rans. Many excellent foreign drivers are accustomed to taking a girl to bed the night before an event, believing this guarantees a safe run, so on the eve of a race I’ve seen drivers out in the street searching for a hooker even as late as three in the morning—and I’m sure the energy you use up in a car race is no less than that in a soccer match. Among good soccer and basketball players, there is no shortage of guys who like to live it up, so my position has always been: As long as you can perform at a high enough level on the field or on the court, then check into hotel rooms as you please; if you’re not good enough at your sport, not taking a room won’t make any difference.
In actual fact, the Olympic soccer team’s performance was perfectly normal—that’s just the level they can play at. What China needs is not to reform its players, but to reform its leaders. A player needs a sex life—those hundred thousand condoms supplied to the Olympic Village were not for the volunteers. Many foreigners came to Beijing for the Olympics, and although there are no openly advertised prostitutes in Beijing, a substantial number of the visitors—including the athletes—must have had sex during the seventeen days of the Olympics. This, after all, is one sport that all these sportsmen and sportswomen know how to pursue. So, we shouldn’t
think it’s fine for foreign athletes to screw Chinese women, but then consider the screwing of Chinese women by Chinese athletes an explanation for their failures.
A week ago, a reporter asked what I thought this Olympics had given China. “A lot of mixed-race children,” I replied.
Oh, man—what do we do now?
September 15, 2008
In the second half of 2008, a scandal erupted in China owing to the widespread contamination of milk products and infant formula by melamine, a chemical product deliberately added to inflate protein content and increase profits. Tens of thousands of infants became sick as a result, and several died.
We boycott this country’s products because it offended our
dignity.
We boycott that country’s products because it hurt our
feelings.
We boycott the other country’s products because it made us
look bad.
We support Chinese products—but they just end up
damaging our health.
Clothes must be new; this is getting old
October 30, 2008
After the Wenchuan earthquake I said I had donated no money at all, when what I meant was that I would not make a donation to the Red Cross, because I was aware that they had very high administrative expenses. I did not spell this all out, for fear of being denounced as “making an inappropriate response at a key moment and negatively affecting the public’s eagerness to donate.” Later, my position was taken out of context and understood as “making zero contribution.” No point, however, in making a big deal out of this.