This Generation

by Han Han

  The result, I find, is not that people change, but that like-minded people come together in one place. In my own microblog universe, you’re bound to feel that this government is the pits and that its days are numbered. If you read someone else’s microblog, you find that life is comfortable and everything is great. And so, the world you see is simply the one that you follow online. And that world is updated so constantly you don’t even have time to download it.

  There were a couple of days last week when all my time was taken up with motor racing and I didn’t go online at all. Only afterward, on the way home, did I check the latest microblog messages. A friend of mine posted something about a tragic incident that happened over a week ago. He had given the matter a lot of thought, done some research, and after seven or eight days came to a certain conclusion about what actually happened. His analysis made a lot of sense and I expressed full agreement. Usually a lot of people forward his messages, but only a few dozen people forwarded this one, and a post on the first page of comments read, “How come there are still people commenting on this? We already had our say on that.”

  Speaking of revolution

  December 23, 2011

  Recently I’ve been looking over questions that readers have sent in, and the topics of revolution and reform have come up repeatedly. The media love to ask me about these things too, but all that happens is that I talk and they listen—there’s no way that what I say will appear in a newspaper. Whatever view you take on these issues, you’re likely to get in trouble. But here I’m going to devote the whole post to my ideas about revolution, merging together my answers both to readers and the media.

  Q. Mass protests have recently been springing up in China. Do you think China needs a revolution?

  A. In a country whose social makeup is increasingly complex—and particularly when that country is in Asia—the final winners in a revolution are bound to be ruthless and cruel. To be quite frank, revolution is a word which sounds refreshing and exciting and seems to promise instant results, but for China it’s not necessarily a good choice. For a start, a revolution needs to make demands, and demands normally begin with an attack on corruption. But that kind of demand can’t sustain itself very long. Freedom or justice doesn’t have a market either, because apart from some writers, artists, and journalists, if you ask the average man or woman in the street if they are free, they generally feel that they are; and if you ask them whether they need justice, the prevailing view is that so long as they personally don’t suffer injustice, that’s sufficient. It’s not everyone who regularly experiences unfair treatment, so they won’t identify with efforts to seek justice and freedom for others. In China it’s very hard to formulate a demand that has collective appeal. So it’s not a question of whether a revolution is needed or not, it’s a question of whether it can possibly happen. My view is: It’s neither possible nor necessary. But if you ask me whether China needs more substantial reform, my answer is: absolutely.

  Q. Why don’t you lead an uprising yourself?

  A. You’ve got to be kidding. Even if I identified with revolution and led an uprising in Shanghai and it won widespread support, all the government has to do is shut down the Internet and block cell phone signals, and I bet that without the government even mobilizing its stability-maintenance machine those angry protestors will be so devastated by their inability to chat with their friends through instant messaging or play games on the Internet or watch recordings of soap operas that they’ll crush me in no time at all. Don’t harbor the fantasy that you can support me by constantly updating the posts on your microblog, because you won’t even be able to open the thing, and after three days of that you’re going to start hating me.

  Q. Do you mean to say that China doesn’t need democracy and freedom?

  A. There’s a lot of confusion about this. Intellectuals tend to think of democracy and freedom as a single package. Actually, for the Chinese, democracy may well lead to a lack of freedom. In the eyes of most Chinese, freedom has nothing to do with publishing, media, and culture, or with personal expression, elections, and politics, but with public standards of behavior. Thus, people with no access to power feel free to make an uproar, jaywalk, and spit, while people with connections feel free to ignore regulations, take advantage of loopholes, and engage in all kinds of malfeasance. Good democracy brings with it social progress and greater respect for the law, and this is bound to make the majority of people—who are not concerned about cultural freedom—feel that they’re not as free as before, just as when many Chinese visit developed countries they feel acutely uncomfortable. So democracy and freedom don’t necessarily go hand in hand. I feel that Chinese people have their own unique definition of freedom; freedom in the broader sense doesn’t get much traction in China.

  Q. China’s problems are just too deeply rooted, so reform is not going to get us anywhere. Only with a revolution can we really turn things around, right?

  A. Let’s suppose that revolution is allowed to develop and there’s no clampdown. No, that’s impossible. Let’s imagine for a moment that a revolution takes place and makes a certain amount of progress: There’s no way that students, ordinary people, the social elite, intellectuals, peasants, and workers can all reach a common understanding. And we always overlook a section of the population—that’s to say the poor, who number some two hundred fifty million. Under normal circumstances you wouldn’t notice their existence, because they never use the Internet. If a revolution has reached an intermediate stage, it has to have generated a new leader, for a revolution without a leader can’t hope to succeed—the White Lotus uprising is a good example. But a revolution with a leader is not necessarily going to be something much to celebrate—the Taiping Rebellion is a good example of that.42 A Chinese-style leader is going to be nothing like the kind and humane person that you imagine when you sit there in front of your computer. A Chinese-style leader most likely will be arbitrary and imperious, selfish and crazy, vicious but also an effective demagogue. Hmm, yes, that does sound a bit familiar, doesn’t it? But Chinese people will go along with it, and only if you’re like that can you climb to the top of the heap, for this society is accustomed to scoundrels ruling the roost and good guys getting the chop. The kind of leaders that young intellectuals would favor would be kicked out within a week, I reckon, and the more educated you are the less likely it is that you would pledge allegiance to a leader. So these people will be the first to abandon the revolution.

  With the departure of the social elite, there is bound to be a change in the composition of the revolutionary masses. No matter how appealing the revolution’s original slogan, in the end it is bound to boil down to a single word—money. The nice way to put it would be that we’re taking back what really belongs to us; the more unpleasant way to put it would be that, in the eyes of an egalitarian, looting is legitimate. I know what you’re thinking: Because I’ve made some money, I’m scared shitless that I’ll lose it all. But that’s not it. In the surging tide of revolution, if you have an iPhone, if you drive a motorcycle, or even if you just surf the Internet or regularly buy a newspaper and eat at Kentucky Fried Chicken, then you count as someone with money. So long as you are capable of reading this essay online, that makes you a target for revolution, dripping with original sin. Someone with a fortune of a hundred million yuan is actually safer than someone with property worth ten thousand, because when the richer man opens his door in the morning, his copy of the New York Times is sitting right there—he already has a home abroad. In the end, the ones who suffer will be the middle class, the quasi-middle class, and even the quasi-affluent. In the political campaigns of the past, people turned on others and drove them to their deaths, and these days, people have become inured to wrecking other people’s lives for the sake of monetary advantage. So just imagine what’s going to happen. Plus, we Chinese believe in settling scores, so we are bound to see some violent convulsions.

  Any revolution needs time, and with China as big as it is, even
setting aside the prospect of nationwide chaos, warlord rivalries, and a power vacuum, if things drag on for five—or ten—years, ordinary working people are bound to look forward to some dictator with an iron fist who can restore order and sort things out. If that entails giving up on liberalization and reverting to People’s Daily orthodoxy, it won’t matter to them. Besides, all our hypotheses are predicated on the army being subordinate to the government rather than the Communist Party, so these are all fantasies, and when even fantasies are not optimistic, the real thing is bound to be ten times worse.

  Q. Well, what about Egypt and Libya . . . ?

  A. They were both governed for decades by a dictator, and their cities are few. In countries like that, with a single incident as a trigger and a single square as the focus for protests, revolution can succeed. In China, there is no one specific individual who can be the target of revolution—there are many cities and a huge population, and all kinds of shocking disasters have already happened. The G-spot is already numb, never mind the flashpoint. Even if social contradictions were ten times more intense than they are now and even if we had ten Vaclav Havels giving speeches simultaneously in ten different cities, and if we imagine too that the authorities don’t interfere, ultimately these speeches will end up becoming advertisements for sore throat lozenges delivered in the Haidian Playhouse.

  Of course, all that is beside the point. The most important thing is that most Chinese people wouldn’t blink at seeing other people slaughtered, for they cry out only when they personally suffer. It would be impossible for them all to maintain solidarity.

  Q. Your position seems just like that of the government’s paid minions—has your palm been greased, too? Why can’t we elect our president through one-person, one-vote?

  A. In a society like this where things are either one way or another, black or white, right or wrong, boss or flunky, the very word revolution itself sounds intimidating, and when put into practice it’s going to wreak even more havoc. Many people think introducing one-person, one-vote is China’s most pressing need, but this is not so. If we do that, the final result is bound to be that the Chinese Communist Party’s candidate will win, for who has more money than the CCP? With fifty billion yuan, they can easily buy five hundred million votes. If fifty billion’s not enough, they can raise the figure to five hundred billion—the nation’s annual tax revenues come to ten trillion, after all. How are you going to compete with that? You feel that the friends in your circle are fair and independent, but adding up all their votes can’t amount to more than several hundred thousand ballots, and those enlightened would-be legislators that you admire would be lucky to muster as many as one hundred thousand votes. The only person who can hold his own with the CCP is Ma Huateng,43 because he can pop open a window when your instant messaging service starts up and say: “Vote for me and I’ll give you five thousand in Q coins.” He can certainly count on two hundred million votes by doing that. But the problem is, Ma Huateng will have joined the Communist Party by that point.

  Democratization is inevitable, but it’s a complex and difficult process, and it is not going to be easily achieved by reciting these mantras that slip off the tongue so smoothly—revolution, general elections, a multi-party system, overthrowing you-know-what. If you have never cared about the independence of the judiciary or about publishing freedoms, being concerned about elections doesn’t really amount to much—it simply shows you’re drawn to the slogan’s sex appeal, a bit like those people who, when they mention car racing, think it’s all about Formula 1, or when talking about soccer know only of the World Cup.

  Q. I feel that in China revolution and democracy are just a matter of timing—what do you think will be the best time?

  A. Revolution and democracy are two completely different things. There’s no guarantee that revolution will bring democracy—didn’t we already establish that a long time ago? History gave China a chance to take the democratic path, and our situation now reflects the choice made by our parents’ generation. Of all the countries in the world today, China is the least likely to see a revolution, but the one that most urgently needs reform. If you insist that I tell you the best time for revolution, all I can say is: When everyone knows to dim their headlights when they pass another car on the road, then we’ll be ready for a revolution.

  But a country like that doesn’t actually need a revolution at all. When the people’s personal caliber and educational level reach that point, everything will just happen automatically. Perhaps you will see this great change in your lifetime, or perhaps to your dying days you’ll just go on being a thread in this huge knot we’ve tied ourselves into. But in any case, be sure to remember to turn off your high beams—maybe this way our children will sooner achieve what our parents’ generation was striving so hard to attain.

  Talking about democracy

  December 24, 2011

  Q. Revolution doesn’t necessarily entail violence, does it? Just think of the Velvet Revolution.

  A. I don’t think a Velvet Revolution can take place in China. Let’s put aside the issue of the international situation at the time and the fact that the entire population of Czechoslovakia then was just half of what Beijing’s is now—to put your faith in a Velvet Revolution is to choose to trust in the quality of the people, the acquiescence of those in power, and a leadership made up of intellectuals. Only with the confluence of these three elements could the Velvet Revolution come into being, and I think none of these conditions exist in China. You can’t keep harping on about a perfect revolution as a way of rejecting the prospect of a possibly imperfect reform. But no matter whether revolution in China is violent or nonviolent, writers are going to play a lot less important role than they imagine—and they certainly won’t be its leaders. Given the quality of the population at large, it’s all the more unlikely that writers will have any major role to play at all. You can’t just ignore Chinese realities and pontificate about how things should be in terms of perfect democracy, perfect freedom, and perfect human rights. Reform and democracy are actually a process of bargaining—you can’t expect the people in power suddenly to see the light and give you everything you want, just because they have read a few books. You can’t be constantly anticipating a Velvet Revolution and rehearsing your role as the Chinese Havel, imagining that overnight every person in China will get to vote, and not one of those votes will have been bought. Even today, the Czech Republic does not have universal suffrage. So my view is simple: We don’t want a violent revolution, and a Velvet Revolution is not going to happen in China anytime soon. Perfect democracy will never appear in China, so all we can do is to pursue it one step at a time. It’s pointless to fantasize about democracy and freedom in the isolation of your study—you’ll just drive yourself crazy that way. Gradual reform is the best way out at present.

  Q. Your conclusion is that the Chinese people’s quality is too low, so they’re not suited to democracy. You’ve accepted a kickback from the government’s stability-maintenance budget, haven’t you?

  A. I don’t know how you can attribute that conclusion to me. I think I’ve put it very plainly. Democracy is not something that’s suitable or unsuitable—sooner or later, it’s bound to come. The low caliber of the people doesn’t rule out democracy, but it does decide the quality of democracy when it does arrive. Nobody wants to see a Rwanda-style democracy, although that is not a true democracy in the broad sense. Democracy may come slowly or suddenly, and perhaps it won’t be all that thorough or comprehensive, or so American or so European, but it will definitely come in your lifetime, and when we look back it may not seem so dramatic.

  Q. Are you saying that everything depends on gifts given by those in power, rather than things taken by the efforts of the people?

  A. Of course it’s vital to put pressure on those in power, but, sadly, their willingness to compromise is even more important, and that requires a degree of vision on their part, and also sheer luck. Currently, the various levels of society are disco
nnected. Take the people in power, for example: No matter how much of an uproar the Wenzhou train accident provoked, they are still playing it cool, feeling that this is just a minor flap, that things will calm down of their own accord without any need to take more drastic measures. The families of the people in power may well have absolutely no interest in this incident, caring only about who is going up and who is coming down, who’s a bit too young or old, how to rank so-and-so. Even with all the uproar over the train collision, they are going to feel that it will all pass in due course and things will revert to normal. Of course, what’s even more likely is that they never felt the pressure of public opinion, a bit like if you have a billion in your bank account, you’re not going to panic if you lose a thousand. If you add up all the money in the pockets of the people in cultural circles, it only comes to five hundred yuan, and when they imagine the rulers have just six times that, they are simply creating a false picture of how anxious the rulers must be. Actually, the issues you raise are not even on their radar. But many people in cultural circles think that all our problems are a product of our system, as though everything will be solved as soon as we change it. Although they mean well and have their hearts in the right place, they tend to expect peasants and workers to share their values—or even take it for granted that the whole society should think the same way they do—when the reality on the ground is much more discouraging.