by Han Han
You might think they’re kidding, but they’re not. Their attitude reflects the majesties’ intentions, and Jackie Chan is a great reader of the majesties’ intentions, too. What they say may be dumb, but it reaps dividends politically.
So on this point, too, Jackie Chan has got it right. “Things are chaotic in Taiwan” is what the people at the top have always wanted to say but felt a bit shy about saying in so many words. If Jackie Chan had been able to carry on in the direction he was moving and take things to a higher level, then he could have said, “Things in North Korea are great,” or “Kim Jong-il’s system of hereditary succession accords with the interests of the North Korean people,” and that way he would have anticipated the leaders’ thoughts to perfection. Oops, I shouldn’t have said “leaders”—I’m forgetting about the taboos.
Jackie Chan also said, “Things in Hong Kong are chaotic.” There seems to be a problem there—how could such an accomplished reader of minds make such a mistake? Hong Kong has already reverted to Chinese sovereignty—by now, things should be fine there. But of course the man in the street is missing the point—this is a case of profound reading of minds. It’s true that Hong Kong was reclaimed in 1997, but because of Britain’s brutal colonialism and cultural stranglehold, such advanced ideas as the “Two Whatevers,” the “Three Represents,” and the “Seven Don’ts” failed to work their magic on Hong Kong.14 Because of the yawning gap between mainland and former colony, we implemented the “one country, two systems” approach, and now it’s essential to establish which of the two systems is superior. What Jackie Chan is saying is, Hong Kong is not good enough, it’s too free, everybody there is talking rubbish, and this is all the fault of those wicked democrats. If Hong Kong could employ the same system as the mainland, its future would be brighter. Jackie Chan is trying to strengthen our government’s resolve, saying, in effect: “You should be putting Hong Kong in order, you know.”
Jackie Chan all along has been presenting himself as a kindly big brother, and from his ideas and his participation in some activities we can see that he actually has some ambitions regarding the political arena in mainland China—greater ambitions than those in the cultural realm, and that’s why, when his latest movie has just been banned in China, he still claims that Hong Kong is too free—he is really prepared to put up with a lot of aggravation if it helps him achieve his ultimate goal. Judging from his knack for anticipating his masters’ wishes, I feel he has this ability, but—sad to say—I don’t think he’s going to end up as Minister of Propaganda or Minister of Culture, or anything like that. No matter how well he can anticipate things, the most he will ever be is a Benevolent Big Brother in the Ministry of Culture.
Why? Because his name counts against him.15 It may work well for an actor, but it damages his prospects as an official. In China’s feudal society it would have been thought a reactionary name, and in modern society it sounds a bit feudal. The current majesties would never allow a man with such a name to reach high office alongside them, for it sounds way too menacing. So Jackie Chan’s best bet is just to continue making movies—a lot of the ones he’s made I’ve really quite enjoyed.
As for the argument advanced by some online commentators, that Chinese people really need to be controlled, otherwise things will be in a complete mess, I think they’re confusing things. Any country, any planet, needs to be managed, but what manages them shouldn’t be an ideology, a system, a culture, a religion, or one’s superiors, but reasonable laws and the utmost possible justice. What the people most need is to be served, not controlled, and what officials most need is to be controlled, not served, and the reason why so many places are “unharmonious” is that we have somehow got things the wrong way round. Not needing to be controlled doesn’t mean giving yourself the green light to kill and loot or assault any woman you choose; what it means is that when a powerful official burns down your house, kills your children, and rapes your wife, you can make sure he gets what he deserves, rather than being controlled by the authorities when you appeal against the injustice, rather than having reporters muzzled and the news suppressed when you tell your story, and rather than being labeled a deranged wife-beater and falling to your death when jumping rope and ending up in the history books as a classic case of lunatic frenzy.16
Further points to note about whoring
June 8, 2009
It’s reported that the chief of a branch of the national tax bureau in Sichuan spent six thousand yuan to have sex with a minor. Chief Lu was held in administrative custody for fifteen days and fined five thousand yuan. The police announced, however, that his actions did not constitute a criminal offense.
On March 3 of this year, the victim, Ms. He, made a statement at Tianchi police station that on December 27, 2008, she was taken to a hotel near a hot pot restaurant in Baixi Township and there had sex with a male. Yibin Public Security investigated this as a case of suspected rape. The proprietor of the hot-pot restaurant was immediately detained, and the following day others implicated—Lu, a Mr. Xu and a Ms. Yan—were also taken into custody. That same day Lu and the restaurant proprietor were arrested, and on March 5 another suspect, surnamed Tu, was taken into custody.
Investigators established that Tu had first sought out Ms. Yan and proposed that she sell her virginity, but was turned down. Yan then relayed the same proposal to her classmate Ms. He, and introduced her to a classmate of hers named Xu. Xu put Ms. He in contact with Tu, and on December 27, 2008, she was taken to the hot-pot restaurant by the proprietor, Tu, and others, and there introduced to Lu, for a fee of six thousand yuan; Lu then had sex with Ms. He. The restaurant proprietor pocketed two thousand yuan, while Xu, Tu, He, and others each received sums ranging from several hundred to one thousand yuan.
Yibin County Public Security Bureau met to discuss the case and concluded that the sex was a consensual act and that Lu was unaware that Ms. He was a minor under fourteen years old; Lu’s actions therefore did not constitute a criminal offense. Since Lu did not know that Ms. He was or could be a minor when he paid to have sex with her, there was no case to prosecute him on those grounds.
Lessons:
1. From the case three months ago we learned that the first article of the Constitution is “If we say you’re guilty, you’re guilty.” Now we learn the supplementary amendment to that article is “If we say you’re not guilty, you’re not guilty.”
2. Many people get into trouble because they know too much. This bureau chief got off scot-free by pretending to know nothing.
3. From the distribution of monies to the hot-pot restaurant proprietor and the others, we see that a mere pittance is allotted to the one who takes on the most arduous duties—the lion’s share goes to the middleman.
4. Relations between the various state organs in Yibin County are extremely cordial; their lines of communication are excellent.
5. Leaders in many branches of government, it is clear, have a special weakness for underage girls. As our propaganda departments would put it, this reflects their patriotism: They love our country, so they love our country’s blossoms, and it’s only natural that they want to deflower them. Their actions demonstrate the utmost loyalty to the Party (and partying), so of course we’re going to make sure they keep their Party affiliation.
6. Those guys who get caught with their pants down while socializing at the sauna are really unlucky. For one thing, they pay to have sex with women who are only pretending to be young, so they don’t get such good value. And secondly, even though they get their kicks in spas that have paid protection money, they end up as sacrificial victims—with a six-month jail term—as a result of some dispute about profit-sharing or in response to some temporary clean-up campaign. Compared to our Mr. Lu, they really got the short end of the stick.
7. Judging from the asking price of six thousand yuan, Yibin’s income levels are on the low side.
8. Men with a taste for this kind of thing will have picked up some hints on how to go about it.
&n
bsp; The Founding of a Republic
August 8, 2009
Today I saw a list of prominent Chinese actors and performers (some of whom star in the movie The Founding of a Republic),17 along with their current nationalities:
Chen Kaige: USA
Joan Chen: USA
Jiang Wenli: USA
Lang Lang: Hong Kong
Zhang Ziyi: Hong Kong
Liu Xuan: Hong Kong
Chen Ming: Canada
Wei Wei: Germany
Jet Li: Singapore
Chen Hong: USA
Wu Junmei: USA
Hu Jing: USA
Li Yundi: France
Hu Jun: Hong Kong
Tong Ange: Canada
Zhang Tielin: UK
Shen Xiaoqin: Australia
Siqin Gaowa: Switzerland
Liu Yifei: USA
Gu Changwei: USA
Wang Ji: USA
Jiang Wen: France
Tang Wei: Hong Kong
Xu Fan: Canada
Xu Qing: Japan
Su Jin: New Zealand
Hu Bing: Thailand.
That so many stars have acquired foreign passports will doubtless provoke a good deal of negative comment. “Hey, why is this?” people are bound to ask. “It was the Chinese film industry and Chinese audiences that made you famous—how can you turn out in the end to be a foreign national?”
I don’t see it that way myself. Never mind the obvious benefits of having a foreign passport, like crossing borders more conveniently, enjoying greater freedom, and avoiding taxes, it seems to me that when so many artists change their nationality, their native country itself has to bear some responsibility. We hear a lot of talk about an individual’s obligations, but a nation has obligations, too. It is only under exceptional circumstances that the state’s legitimate interests are more important than anything else.
When so many people choose to live elsewhere, it shows that after the founding of our republic many important tasks have yet to be accomplished—otherwise, by now there would be plenty of foreigners with Chinese nationality eager to work as crew members or play the role of villainous characters in our historical dramas. For performers of Chinese origin to swap one passport for another is a choice they have made, and this choice is just like a decision to divorce—maybe it’s because of irreconcilable differences or maybe because they’ve found a more suitable partner. Perhaps they can be reproached on moral grounds, but there is no reason to impugn their character. You can’t really guarantee that you wouldn’t make the same choice, can you? You there at your monitor—if offered U.S. citizenship, what would you do?
As for myself, I’m happy enough with Chinese nationality. It’s true that it entails paying a great deal of tax without much to show for it and having a lot of hoops to jump through when you want to travel abroad, but that’s about it.
As for the population at large, holding Chinese nationality may well mean that you can hardly afford to eat, or pay rent, or have fun, or marry, or have children, or get sick, or die, but what it means most crucially is that you can’t afford to emigrate, so when people see how you lot have all flown the coop, they’re bound to be pissed off.
I don’t expect to change my nationality in the foreseeable future. But as you read this, don’t forget that just as the nation imposes conditions on you, you can also set your own conditions on it. My condition is: It doesn’t matter to me that the country I love does hardly anything at all to protect the rights of people like me in the writing profession, nor do I care that this nation turns a blind eye when the profit on the sale of any real estate property matches the income of China’s biggest publishing house, but I’m very fond of children and may well not be able to restrict myself to having a single child—and certainly won’t take kindly to someone from the planned-births association putting a finger on my wife—so if I’m so careless as to have one child too many, I will have to stop being a citizen of this country—or at least the mainland part of it.
“Hah, who cares what you think?” you may well say.
That’s true, but I care even less what other people think. If we’re so indifferent to each other’s views, maybe we should just divorce. Just look at the names on the list—they all come across as decent people, no?
Report on preparations for the World Rally Championship in Australia
September 3, 2009
Several days ago I traveled from the heavenly dynasty to the island nation of Australia to monitor the preparations for the World Rally Championship. As I got off the plane, my first impression was poor: To my dismay, no reception party of primary schoolchildren pounding on waist-drums was there to greet us. And I had hardly walked a few yards before I realized that Australia is not just an island nation but a bird nation: A number of different species were roaming around as they pleased—a most unseemly spectacle.
The World Rally Championship is the world’s highest-level rally competition, but in the last couple of years the Chinese Rally Championship has been advancing by leaps and bounds and promises soon to overtake it. When I arrived on the Gold Coast, the site of the rally championship, I discovered that the economy there is extremely backward. The price of a large villa with swimming pool is no more than that of a hundred-square-meter apartment in Shanghai. The local inhabitants live in wretched conditions: On the way from the airport to the hotel, I did not see a single Mercedes, BMW, or Audi, and the local government is so poor it cannot afford to erect a single toll plaza on the freeway.
When it came to tracing the rally route, there soon emerged even more compelling evidence of China’s superiority. Reviewing the first stage, I found to my astonishment that members of the local animal rights association were holding up signs that read, “Go away, WRC.” There are actually people there opposed to holding the rally championship! This really defies understanding. What boggles the imagination even more is that the local government can be so weak and powerless as to tolerate the conspicuous display of these placards on houses by the side of the road. I can’t help but think what would happen if such unharmonious signs were to appear at our own rally championship: Not only would everyone in positions of authority down to the mayor and village head lose their jobs, but the person who dreamed up this lark could say good-bye to their monthly pension as well.
This small bunch of troublemakers, I’m told, is opposed to the rally championship on the grounds that our rally cars might hit and kill kangaroos. Little do they know that in our country hitting and killing people is not a big deal. Of course, party and government organs won’t let this happen during the duration of the rally—they will give the race priority and close off the route completely. Our country’s motto is: Dogs and children must be leashed; chickens and women must be penned. In our country, one hundred percent of the people support this kind of major competitive event, because those who don’t support it forfeit the right to count as people—they count only as reactionaries.
After observing the low level of awareness among the local residents, I went on to inspect the other stages of the rally route, and it became apparent that the economy here is truly on its last legs. With so many farms and vacant lots sporting for sale signs, people here are stone-broke. I even began to worry that a driver from China like myself might be kidnapped for ransom. All those days I was there I never saw a single policeman, which goes to show how weak the forces of law and order are. The only way to protect myself was to announce at every opportunity that back in China I am neither a member of the Communist Party nor a real estate developer.
Speaking of police, when the Chinese Rally Championship is held, the government gives it enormous attention, assigning up to a thousand policemen to manage traffic in the vicinity and maybe sending in military police and infantry for good measure; even a hen that strays onto the race route will be summarily shot. But the Australian government has clearly failed to allocate adequate management resources. I didn’t see a single policeman along the whole three-hundred-kilometer route, but
I did spot a snake as thick as a man’s thigh wriggling across the road, which gave the driver a great fright. Competitors with a fear of reptiles will be unable to perform at their top level or exhibit their best style.
The World Rally Championship referees are a shabby lot. On a route inspection in China, there’s no need to consult the map—just look out for the police sentry stations and you’ll be on the right road, and you’ll find the referee station where there’s a big clump of people. It’s all very imposing. But at the WRC I couldn’t see any referees at the spot marked on the map—I had to get out of the car and ask an elderly couple who were having a picnic where I could find them. It turned out they were the referees! Can’t they do better than that?
On the second leg, it was a similar situation—a pair of lovers under an umbrella. I thought at first they were fishing! They offered me a piece of candy, but I remembered the education I received as a youngster—this had to be a capitalist sugar-coated bullet, so I refused it.
Preparations for the special stages were a complete bomb. The competitive stage that I visited was due to take place on a city thru-way. I got there at 6:30, but even by 7:30 the road had not been closed off. How can they be so sloppy in their urban management work? Don’t they know that without some brisk beatings of drivers who dare to encroach on the rally route (state-owned property, after all!), one will never be able to seal off a roadway promptly? If this kind of competition were held in our country, three days before the race the road would have been closed, and both sides of the road would be given a new coat of paint—and the grass would be given a new coat of paint, too. That’d be sure to give the drivers an excellent impression, and demonstrate our government’s consistently strong posture—toward its own people, that is.