i am too glam for guiyang.* although that is not saying much. and i am not exactly in guiyang. (i’m in qingzhen, outside guiyang (guizhou province), just off of hongfeng hu (lake) for a work program in which the local host is the two lakes and one reservoir environmental protection foundation.) even though the last two days – focused on environmental legal advocacy – have been substantively interesting and the participants have been very engaged and all’s well on the guizhou front, i have found myself uninspired. and i don’t say that i am too glam in a self-aggrandizing way. it’s more frustrating or funny than anything else at the moment. i don’t intend to terrorize small children when going on a morning run. or frighten the water buffalo and their keepers. but i can’t help it.
i also am officially over the charming sometimes honesty of chinese culture. i say sometimes honestly because there is a true art of lying and avoidance which is also very crucial. but straightforwardness about one’s appearance, weight, age, bodily functions, and ailments is quite acceptable. and context doesn’t seem to change or alter this honesty. i am always reminded of this during work programs where i will be called “beautiful” or basically be told by an elderly male Chinese judge or civil society activist that i have a slamming body. not in a disrespectful or harassing way, but merely as an observation. women will say the same, but usually elaborate. instead of just saying ni di shencai hen bang – your body is really great – they’ll usually add hen miaotiao – very long and willowy. this used to make me blush. by now, i’m accustomed to it and just say thank you.
these sorts of comments are totally not remarkable in a culture in which it’s permissible to be candid about the fundamentals. it is fine to call someone fat, or inform them that they have become fat since you’ve last seen them. or to say you’re late because you had diarrhea. in fact, when i was at the waijiao xueyuan (foreign affairs college: the training school for the chinese foreign service where i studied for a year after high school) i showed up for class one day only to be informed by an office assistant sitting at my professor’s desk that class was cancelled because teach pan had really bad diarrhea. not much to say in response, really. i nodded knowingly, turned and went back to my dorm.
the good thing about all the time i spend in second tier cities (or countrysides) – even in places where the weather is milder and the air is cleaner – is that it makes me very excited to return to beijing. i cannot wait to go back. and this is a successful program! which makes me wonder about my own level of engagement. rather than, ‘meiling, you have a slamming body,’ perhaps a more astute observation from a workshop participant would have been, ‘meiling, you are slamming bored.’ sigh.
in more exciting news, i think i’m finally settling into a more sustained writing project. something i have been circling around for some time, but am finally getting a sense of. it feels good. also, i had an epiphany the other day. something i have felt and known and held deep inside the me within me for some time, and which has surfaced amid my chatter about needing to continue and complete my conversation with beijing, but never really realized or articulated or accepted. i came here for love. not for love of one person or for china, but in order to wholly and complete learn to love myself. perhaps part of that is laughing at being too glam for guiyang and the qingzhen water buffaloes.
* also writing that i am too glam for guiyang reminds me of when, once upon a lifetime i was a young competitive swimmer and showed up for practice with a teammate having decided in the carpool ride over that we would serenade our coach with our own remix of the then popular “i’m too sexy” pop song. we paraded around the pool, strutting about and singing, “i’m too sexy for this pool, too sexy for this team, so sexy it’s cool” and such. he was not amused. i think we swam a 400m butterfly for time as a warm up. ahh, to be young and foolish.
Showing posts with label environmental rights. Show all posts
Showing posts with label environmental rights. Show all posts
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
'big hair, bai jiu, and environmental justice' or 'kafka by the (wuhan) shore'
i am in wuhan and bored to tears. the grey sky is ceaselessly spitting rain in sympathy. to be entirely honest, i probably set myself up to be disappointed on this trip. i had low expectations for this training program (for judges on adjudicating environmental cases) before i left. (and they have been fulfilled and subsequently lowered since being here.) i don't really heart second tier chinese cities. or at least not this one. and the weather is always, always terrible when i am in wuhan - grey, polluted, thick air, either unbearably hot or unseasonably cold, often raining - although the locals insist that it is otherwise sunny and gorgeous. (i think they are delusional or lying.) and our local partners here love to party. at times, this has been incredibly amusing. mostly, it means avoiding doing shots of bai jiu with red-faced, slurring judges who are quick to tell me how beautiful i am and how biaozhun (standard) my chinese pronunciation is while i politely fill my shot glass with water.
last night was one of the 'mostly' nights. i did shots of tang while the judges went to town on the grain alcohol and became incoherent. there was one boisterous judge from wuxi who was leading the group over the edge from tipsy to obliterated. as he and his comrades slipped one by one over that proverbial edge, i marveled at his white faux alligator shoes. and his amazing bouffant. although i suspect that is not the right word for it. i had an illuminating moment of realizing that i ought to start posting photos to this blog simply because i knew then that i would be entirely unable to find words adequate to describe this hairdo. the photos will be my april resolution (why not?). for now, suffice it to say that this judge has a massive tuft of hair carefully tamed upwards from his forehead adding an approximately four inches to his rather small (but very well-maintained!) frame. my moment of wishing to photograph his hair came while feigning interest in his lecture about the importance of exercise and about what amazing shape he was in and about how he is the best badminton player perhaps ever in the history of history. (he can play badminton for four hours straight without stopping (not even for one second!).) there was a young chinese-american man there representing a beijing-based US environmental NGO and this judge took it upon himself to also draw the entire table's attention to this fellow's body. he explained that he was in reasonably good shape, saying that even he, wonder of nature that he is, was not willing to take his jacket off so that his shoulders and pecs could be compared to the young man's. (he was quick to point out, however, that he was probably still stronger. the chinese-american smartly agreed with the judge.) but, the judge then moved down, pointing out to the table that our young friend had started going soft around the middle - too much beer in beijing, not enough discipline. he then implored the young man, repeatedly, for the sake of sino-US relations, to start going to spinning classes. he said in a month, his tummy would be gone. (and the state of sino-US relations would be improved?!? that part i didn't quite follow. that and why this judge was into spinning. but maybe that's because i was drinking tang instead of bai jiu.)
this morning i witnessed a mid-numbing moni fating (mock court roleplay) performed by graduate students posing as judges and peasant-plaintiffs in an environmental pollution case. it was as cliched and mediocre and insulting as you can imagine. i drank excessive cups of terrible instant 2+1 nescafe coffee just to entertain myself. (and, to be honest, i love overcaffeinating. although i don't think there is much caffeine in this fake coffee. mostly just toxins and sugar.) the collected observers then boldly launched into an improptu discussion of 'environmental public interest litigation' - a widly popular, but little understood, idea in china. at some point one of the judges asked me to explain the li an - or case acceptance - process in american courts. i had to explain that we don't have such a process. i clarified that a plaintiff files a case and the court accepts it and then during what we call motion practice the defendant challenges the case and it is at that stage that cases are often dismissed for a variety of reasons. there is no initial assessment conducted by the court or the judges to determine whether or not to let the case in the door in the first place. (the li an process is largely political in china.) i walked right up to the edge of using the phrase 'independent judiciary' but wisely and quickly backed away from that cliff, rather unlike my bai jiu drinking colleagues last night. whether it was the hangovers or the complete lack of structure to or purpose for this program, we ran out of things to say to one another shortly thereafter and are now on an extended lunch hour.
i suppose i sound sarcastic in this post. perhaps i am. usually i feel honoured to do rule of law work in china. sometimes, when the skies above and the drunken judges below are spitting in your face and the discussions of skills in adjudicating environmental cases include such basic niceties as 'give the parties water when they come to your office', it feels absurd. in such moments, i like to imagine what end of a kafka novel i am about to wake up in and where the story will go from here. at least i can look out of my grimy hotel room window at the grimy shore of the south lake below take solace in the ceaseless grey.
last night was one of the 'mostly' nights. i did shots of tang while the judges went to town on the grain alcohol and became incoherent. there was one boisterous judge from wuxi who was leading the group over the edge from tipsy to obliterated. as he and his comrades slipped one by one over that proverbial edge, i marveled at his white faux alligator shoes. and his amazing bouffant. although i suspect that is not the right word for it. i had an illuminating moment of realizing that i ought to start posting photos to this blog simply because i knew then that i would be entirely unable to find words adequate to describe this hairdo. the photos will be my april resolution (why not?). for now, suffice it to say that this judge has a massive tuft of hair carefully tamed upwards from his forehead adding an approximately four inches to his rather small (but very well-maintained!) frame. my moment of wishing to photograph his hair came while feigning interest in his lecture about the importance of exercise and about what amazing shape he was in and about how he is the best badminton player perhaps ever in the history of history. (he can play badminton for four hours straight without stopping (not even for one second!).) there was a young chinese-american man there representing a beijing-based US environmental NGO and this judge took it upon himself to also draw the entire table's attention to this fellow's body. he explained that he was in reasonably good shape, saying that even he, wonder of nature that he is, was not willing to take his jacket off so that his shoulders and pecs could be compared to the young man's. (he was quick to point out, however, that he was probably still stronger. the chinese-american smartly agreed with the judge.) but, the judge then moved down, pointing out to the table that our young friend had started going soft around the middle - too much beer in beijing, not enough discipline. he then implored the young man, repeatedly, for the sake of sino-US relations, to start going to spinning classes. he said in a month, his tummy would be gone. (and the state of sino-US relations would be improved?!? that part i didn't quite follow. that and why this judge was into spinning. but maybe that's because i was drinking tang instead of bai jiu.)
this morning i witnessed a mid-numbing moni fating (mock court roleplay) performed by graduate students posing as judges and peasant-plaintiffs in an environmental pollution case. it was as cliched and mediocre and insulting as you can imagine. i drank excessive cups of terrible instant 2+1 nescafe coffee just to entertain myself. (and, to be honest, i love overcaffeinating. although i don't think there is much caffeine in this fake coffee. mostly just toxins and sugar.) the collected observers then boldly launched into an improptu discussion of 'environmental public interest litigation' - a widly popular, but little understood, idea in china. at some point one of the judges asked me to explain the li an - or case acceptance - process in american courts. i had to explain that we don't have such a process. i clarified that a plaintiff files a case and the court accepts it and then during what we call motion practice the defendant challenges the case and it is at that stage that cases are often dismissed for a variety of reasons. there is no initial assessment conducted by the court or the judges to determine whether or not to let the case in the door in the first place. (the li an process is largely political in china.) i walked right up to the edge of using the phrase 'independent judiciary' but wisely and quickly backed away from that cliff, rather unlike my bai jiu drinking colleagues last night. whether it was the hangovers or the complete lack of structure to or purpose for this program, we ran out of things to say to one another shortly thereafter and are now on an extended lunch hour.
i suppose i sound sarcastic in this post. perhaps i am. usually i feel honoured to do rule of law work in china. sometimes, when the skies above and the drunken judges below are spitting in your face and the discussions of skills in adjudicating environmental cases include such basic niceties as 'give the parties water when they come to your office', it feels absurd. in such moments, i like to imagine what end of a kafka novel i am about to wake up in and where the story will go from here. at least i can look out of my grimy hotel room window at the grimy shore of the south lake below take solace in the ceaseless grey.
Friday, September 18, 2009
falling asleep to the sound of rain
there is something uniquely soothing about falling asleep to the sound of steady, deep, tropical rain. it's calming, reassuring, insistent. (and we can weave our unspoken wishes of what the rain insists into our dreams.) it was streaming dreamy rain for the last two nights in chiang mai. i was there for a conference of sorts – the mekong legal advocacy institute – a week-long gathering of environmental lawyers and activists from the mekong region to exchange ideas, share stories and consider strategies for environmental justice along the mekong and in our countries. participants came from thailand, cambodia, laos, vietnam, china, burma, and the Philippines, with a few aussies, americans and brits thrown in. the foreigners were mostly expats who had already waded into the river of expat life working on these issues and their presence was simply part of being swept along with that particular current. i suppose that is true for me as well.
but the carefully ordered chaos of life in beijing bears little resemblance to the teeming merry trot of life in southeast asia, or at least in chiang mai. i realized as i arrived, happily bouncing along the roads of sunny chiang mai chatting to my driver and watching the motorbikes whiz about in the warm mud, that i had not been to the region for many years. i had forgotten the warmth, the complexity, the grace. so it was nice to spend a few days succumbing to the embrace of this region’s beauty while immersed deep in its tragedy.
although our little collection of committed individuals was hopeful, i would describe the environmental degradation in the region (and indeed the world) as nothing less than a tragedy. i’m still green in the environmental game. i arrived on this chequerboard by way of human rights. concerning myself with how humans mistreat each other, i was less focused on how we are trashing the planet. and i wasn’t particularly focused on the connection, except in scattered, illuminated moments (a class here, some volunteer work there, an article or three along the way).
the participants in our program included a filipino judge / lawyer who has become a warrior for the environment. tony oposa thinks of god as his client and reminded us that even when were are fighting for environmental justice, advocating for the rights of poor communities to healthy and safe drinking water, we must not forget nature, remembering we must also speak for the fishes. tony has a contagious energy and raw, unruly passion for his work and for living each moment. but living it simply. he is a man who can speak of how none of us really need much, and admonish us all to live simple lives, and in the next breath insist that we all sing karaoke with him that night, and convince me to dance the chacha with him. his message of simplicity, and similar sentiments from others, were important connecting points for all of us. all of the nations represented are caught up in fantastic and constricting forces of consumerism and nationalism. so it was inspiring to collectively acknowledge those binds and loosen them, if only for a few days.
my first night did indeed involve dancing the chacha with the world’s most charming filipino environmental crusader as the rest of the group looked on. we also learned a cambodian line dance whose name one-two-three-kicked itself right out of my head. we were taught by a charming and precocious young cambodian lawyer named piseth who looks about 16, is ready to risk his life for land rights in his country. we were an interesting collection of dancers – a lawyer and member of parliament the burmese government-in-exile was deliberate in each step, a brooding journalist from laos with tattooed hands and striking glasses sat back and watched with his arms crossed, a gorgeous vietnamese environmentalist currently working on a phd in paris who danced with abandon, just as she peppered each speaker with spicy questions during our meetings, an australian attorney working to promote public interest law in phnom penh good-naturedly tripped all over himself. that first night there was no rain, but no matter. its song would have been drowned by the karaoke machine.
my last night was spent drinking the local leo beer with a crew of these new comrades. i attended the conference to give a presentation on china’s environmental courts, mainly because a colleague didn’t want to travel. i couldn’t help but think, as i laughed over our leos, how fortunate i am to being doing this work. i only wish i could do more. that we all could do more. there is a follow up meeting in january to continue to build regional momentum. it would make more sense for my colleague – who is a chinese attorney and actually from the region – to attend, but i selfishly would love to reconnect with this group. we will see.
there is a lot of time for rainfall between now and then. for now, i am off to hong kong to spend some time with little trouble and live in the moment.
but the carefully ordered chaos of life in beijing bears little resemblance to the teeming merry trot of life in southeast asia, or at least in chiang mai. i realized as i arrived, happily bouncing along the roads of sunny chiang mai chatting to my driver and watching the motorbikes whiz about in the warm mud, that i had not been to the region for many years. i had forgotten the warmth, the complexity, the grace. so it was nice to spend a few days succumbing to the embrace of this region’s beauty while immersed deep in its tragedy.
although our little collection of committed individuals was hopeful, i would describe the environmental degradation in the region (and indeed the world) as nothing less than a tragedy. i’m still green in the environmental game. i arrived on this chequerboard by way of human rights. concerning myself with how humans mistreat each other, i was less focused on how we are trashing the planet. and i wasn’t particularly focused on the connection, except in scattered, illuminated moments (a class here, some volunteer work there, an article or three along the way).
the participants in our program included a filipino judge / lawyer who has become a warrior for the environment. tony oposa thinks of god as his client and reminded us that even when were are fighting for environmental justice, advocating for the rights of poor communities to healthy and safe drinking water, we must not forget nature, remembering we must also speak for the fishes. tony has a contagious energy and raw, unruly passion for his work and for living each moment. but living it simply. he is a man who can speak of how none of us really need much, and admonish us all to live simple lives, and in the next breath insist that we all sing karaoke with him that night, and convince me to dance the chacha with him. his message of simplicity, and similar sentiments from others, were important connecting points for all of us. all of the nations represented are caught up in fantastic and constricting forces of consumerism and nationalism. so it was inspiring to collectively acknowledge those binds and loosen them, if only for a few days.
my first night did indeed involve dancing the chacha with the world’s most charming filipino environmental crusader as the rest of the group looked on. we also learned a cambodian line dance whose name one-two-three-kicked itself right out of my head. we were taught by a charming and precocious young cambodian lawyer named piseth who looks about 16, is ready to risk his life for land rights in his country. we were an interesting collection of dancers – a lawyer and member of parliament the burmese government-in-exile was deliberate in each step, a brooding journalist from laos with tattooed hands and striking glasses sat back and watched with his arms crossed, a gorgeous vietnamese environmentalist currently working on a phd in paris who danced with abandon, just as she peppered each speaker with spicy questions during our meetings, an australian attorney working to promote public interest law in phnom penh good-naturedly tripped all over himself. that first night there was no rain, but no matter. its song would have been drowned by the karaoke machine.
my last night was spent drinking the local leo beer with a crew of these new comrades. i attended the conference to give a presentation on china’s environmental courts, mainly because a colleague didn’t want to travel. i couldn’t help but think, as i laughed over our leos, how fortunate i am to being doing this work. i only wish i could do more. that we all could do more. there is a follow up meeting in january to continue to build regional momentum. it would make more sense for my colleague – who is a chinese attorney and actually from the region – to attend, but i selfishly would love to reconnect with this group. we will see.
there is a lot of time for rainfall between now and then. for now, i am off to hong kong to spend some time with little trouble and live in the moment.
Monday, September 14, 2009
red china blues
so a sweet message from a sweet old beijing tongxue now in south africa inspired me to tooter once more to the brink and consider collecting my thoughts. naturally, i questioned again (and then again) about who or what this is for. but i've decided that’s no matter. there is something lost in me when i am not writing, or creating, in some small way. i’ve recognized that. and i can’t always find that place through work, or even through witty emails, or poems about imaginary pets. not even yoga brings me there (that’s a journey of a different, albeit related, sort). so, i’ve decided to just write. and not worry about whether anyone’s reading. or whether i make insightful or instructive comments about justice or whether i spend too much time getting lost in the stirrings of my hummingbird heart. (though isn’t personal narrative what makes justice worthwhile or interesting in the first place?)
personal narrative. it's what makes the world go ‘round. or at least allows us to relate. ‘red china blues’ was the title of a memoir about china i read several years ago. it was the typically cultural revolution tale, told through the eyes of one woman. (when we lent the book to my auntie jung, she covered it with newspaper so that if she was seen reading it on the bus, no one would know.) it feels belittling to say that in a way – “the typical cultural revolution tale” – because how could the intensely traumatic and brutal experiences of that one young women ever be “typical”? but they are. like that one woman, millions of teenagers saw their families torn apart or destroyed, witnessed the humiliation, brutalization or murder of their parents, were sent to remote areas of the country to work punishing hours in fields and factories without compensation or food. these individuals, each of whom suffered unique and terrible traumas, are now in their 50s. some fled and wrote best-selling memoirs detailing the horrors they experienced. i hope that they found some release in that. but for those who have stayed behind, there has never really been any public katharsis. and to speak of your own pain seems strange in a nation where nearly everyone your age has a similar story. how to you privately heal in such circumstances? one close family friend of ours provides economic support to educate the children of the village that he was “sent down” to during the cultural revolution. he says he is alive only thanks to the generosity of this impoverished tiny community that spared two potatoes a day for him for three years. as smart as he is big-hearted, this friend secured a coveted spot in the first class at beijing university when it reopened after the cultural revolution crumbled. i wonder if finding a way to give back is somewhat more than an expression of gratitude. perhaps it is part of a healing process, acknowledging those years of hardship and the six years he was unable to contact or locate his parents or three siblings. perhaps it is just kindness.
i recalled the enticing title of that book recently because i’ve had a case of the red china blues. although i think i may be recovering. i was quietly happy to be returning to beijing last night (although i am writing this en route to hong kong and then chiang mai, where i’ll be visiting little trouble and spending a week considering environmental legal advocacy in the mekong region, respectively). this case of the blues, if you can call them that, is a broader consciousness and growing concern about china. i am perhaps more
critical now of this government than i ever have been. i think this is healthy because i spent many years to enamoured with or protective of china to see clearly or think critically about the implications of this regime or its polices. (it is hard to clearly see things that we are too close to.) with time, distance, education, adulthood, travel (take your pick), my perspective has shifted. whereas once i was the one always singing china’s song, i know find myself cast as the shadow of doom in china conversations. the world seems so ready and willing to embrace china without question these days, and it frightens me. this is not a benign government. and they are quietly amassing power in subtle and complicated ways. i worry about china becoming the dominant superpower in the world. (and for those who say she lacks the creativity to do so, who needs creativity when you have seemingly limitless (opaque) markets?)
i had a rewarding two weeks back in the states. personally, i was able to connect with friends and family. professionally, a study tour i had helped to pull together for chinese judges on domestic violence and civil protection orders was just fantastically successful. so much better than i had even imagined. but my partner-in-crime (an anti-violence advocate and a researcher at the institute for applied jurisprudence, a think tank attached to the supreme people’s court) and i had to be all cloak-and-dagger about my involvement and obscure our relationship. she and her colleague even had to sneak out of their hotel to attend a meeting i arranged with one of the experts who will be part of our upcoming judicial training on domestic violence. the night before the group left, the foreign affairs bureau informed them that the tour they were going on, organized via the state department’s international visitors program, was political and was an effort by the united states government to brainwash them. they were given strict marching orders about how they were to conduct themselves while on the tour. when this was recounted to me, i couldn’t help but wonder when the cold war became chic again. oh, and just to be safe, the foreign affairs bureau planted one of the participants who was surely a spy (and none too subtle about it!)
my blues – professional frustrations and personal reflections – will dissolve, however, in moments that some how go beyond them. the study tour coincided with labour day weekend, so the state department planned on arranging a “home hospitality” program with an american family as part of the program. naturally, i volunteered my parents. so we had the group of nine judges and scholars over for a pool party and bbq. perhaps the best part was when one of the judges was admiring our yard, and my father responded by saying, “yes, but in china you don’t have to worry about cutting the grass.” the judge replied by saying, “but we want to cut grass; i have always wanted to cut grass.” ba immediately jumped up, saying, “you do? come on. follow me.” a few moments later we heard the sound of the lawnmower starting and soon judge luo was pushing it, or more accurately being pulled by it, around the back yard. two more judges then ran down for turns cutting the grass. it was a classic cultural exchange. one man’s chore is another man’s great new tourist experience.
the most fascinating cultural exchange of the trip happened in boston. among the many excellent program activities in boston was a meeting with the founder of common purpose, a local batterers intervention program. the founder, mitch, arranged to have a few facilitators from the program accompany him and also put together a panel of men who were in the process of going through the program because they had been sentenced to do so by a judge. when they walked into the room, there was a great pause in my thoughts for a moment. in all my anti-violence work, we toss around terms like “abusers” or “batterers” without thought to those labels. and suddenly, here they were. real, live “batterers” walking into a sunlight side room in the dorchester district court. they were a curious combination of swagger and shame, testosterone and nerves. i measured my own reaction and noted the moment of fear. but that fear quickly gave way to empathy, “batterers” or not, these were people and worthy of compassion. i made a point of introducing myself to and shaking the hands of each man, thanking them in advance for their willingness to participate. for participating in that panel, sharing about the deeply personal, painful, and shameful process of being ordered to participate in this program and how it is influencing them, cannot have been easy. the chinese side was at first a bit shell-shocked and i worried for a moment that they would not engage. but once they did, the exchange was fascinating and, i hope, meaningful for both sides. the judge who boldly asked the first question was a complete surprise to me. a conservative sort with a terrible combover, he usually seemed more interested in videotaping than asking questions. but he asked the men about the methodology the program employed, explaining that in china, they value balance – yin yang – and that anger is a natural human emotion, so if the methodology of the program was to teach them to suppress their anger, he thought that might eventually lead to problems or illness, but if the methodology was to help them to develop other means of releasing their anger, he wanted to know what those were and whether they were effective. my heart smiled to judge yi in that moment because that question was the perfect opening for a thoughtful discussion on anger and so much more, but it also was respectful of the assembled men. the group gave each of the program participants chinese stamps depicting the longest bridge in china, and the men seemed genuinely please with the gifts. i hope that in some small way their experience with us in that sunny room helps them constructing their own bridges to better places. bridges which, like those in stamps, i imagine must be very long.
so now i am full of hope, watching lazy clouds out my window. maybe i don’t have the red china blues after all. or maybe, just maybe, a moment of reflection is all i need as a remedy.
personal narrative. it's what makes the world go ‘round. or at least allows us to relate. ‘red china blues’ was the title of a memoir about china i read several years ago. it was the typically cultural revolution tale, told through the eyes of one woman. (when we lent the book to my auntie jung, she covered it with newspaper so that if she was seen reading it on the bus, no one would know.) it feels belittling to say that in a way – “the typical cultural revolution tale” – because how could the intensely traumatic and brutal experiences of that one young women ever be “typical”? but they are. like that one woman, millions of teenagers saw their families torn apart or destroyed, witnessed the humiliation, brutalization or murder of their parents, were sent to remote areas of the country to work punishing hours in fields and factories without compensation or food. these individuals, each of whom suffered unique and terrible traumas, are now in their 50s. some fled and wrote best-selling memoirs detailing the horrors they experienced. i hope that they found some release in that. but for those who have stayed behind, there has never really been any public katharsis. and to speak of your own pain seems strange in a nation where nearly everyone your age has a similar story. how to you privately heal in such circumstances? one close family friend of ours provides economic support to educate the children of the village that he was “sent down” to during the cultural revolution. he says he is alive only thanks to the generosity of this impoverished tiny community that spared two potatoes a day for him for three years. as smart as he is big-hearted, this friend secured a coveted spot in the first class at beijing university when it reopened after the cultural revolution crumbled. i wonder if finding a way to give back is somewhat more than an expression of gratitude. perhaps it is part of a healing process, acknowledging those years of hardship and the six years he was unable to contact or locate his parents or three siblings. perhaps it is just kindness.
i recalled the enticing title of that book recently because i’ve had a case of the red china blues. although i think i may be recovering. i was quietly happy to be returning to beijing last night (although i am writing this en route to hong kong and then chiang mai, where i’ll be visiting little trouble and spending a week considering environmental legal advocacy in the mekong region, respectively). this case of the blues, if you can call them that, is a broader consciousness and growing concern about china. i am perhaps more
critical now of this government than i ever have been. i think this is healthy because i spent many years to enamoured with or protective of china to see clearly or think critically about the implications of this regime or its polices. (it is hard to clearly see things that we are too close to.) with time, distance, education, adulthood, travel (take your pick), my perspective has shifted. whereas once i was the one always singing china’s song, i know find myself cast as the shadow of doom in china conversations. the world seems so ready and willing to embrace china without question these days, and it frightens me. this is not a benign government. and they are quietly amassing power in subtle and complicated ways. i worry about china becoming the dominant superpower in the world. (and for those who say she lacks the creativity to do so, who needs creativity when you have seemingly limitless (opaque) markets?)
i had a rewarding two weeks back in the states. personally, i was able to connect with friends and family. professionally, a study tour i had helped to pull together for chinese judges on domestic violence and civil protection orders was just fantastically successful. so much better than i had even imagined. but my partner-in-crime (an anti-violence advocate and a researcher at the institute for applied jurisprudence, a think tank attached to the supreme people’s court) and i had to be all cloak-and-dagger about my involvement and obscure our relationship. she and her colleague even had to sneak out of their hotel to attend a meeting i arranged with one of the experts who will be part of our upcoming judicial training on domestic violence. the night before the group left, the foreign affairs bureau informed them that the tour they were going on, organized via the state department’s international visitors program, was political and was an effort by the united states government to brainwash them. they were given strict marching orders about how they were to conduct themselves while on the tour. when this was recounted to me, i couldn’t help but wonder when the cold war became chic again. oh, and just to be safe, the foreign affairs bureau planted one of the participants who was surely a spy (and none too subtle about it!)
my blues – professional frustrations and personal reflections – will dissolve, however, in moments that some how go beyond them. the study tour coincided with labour day weekend, so the state department planned on arranging a “home hospitality” program with an american family as part of the program. naturally, i volunteered my parents. so we had the group of nine judges and scholars over for a pool party and bbq. perhaps the best part was when one of the judges was admiring our yard, and my father responded by saying, “yes, but in china you don’t have to worry about cutting the grass.” the judge replied by saying, “but we want to cut grass; i have always wanted to cut grass.” ba immediately jumped up, saying, “you do? come on. follow me.” a few moments later we heard the sound of the lawnmower starting and soon judge luo was pushing it, or more accurately being pulled by it, around the back yard. two more judges then ran down for turns cutting the grass. it was a classic cultural exchange. one man’s chore is another man’s great new tourist experience.
the most fascinating cultural exchange of the trip happened in boston. among the many excellent program activities in boston was a meeting with the founder of common purpose, a local batterers intervention program. the founder, mitch, arranged to have a few facilitators from the program accompany him and also put together a panel of men who were in the process of going through the program because they had been sentenced to do so by a judge. when they walked into the room, there was a great pause in my thoughts for a moment. in all my anti-violence work, we toss around terms like “abusers” or “batterers” without thought to those labels. and suddenly, here they were. real, live “batterers” walking into a sunlight side room in the dorchester district court. they were a curious combination of swagger and shame, testosterone and nerves. i measured my own reaction and noted the moment of fear. but that fear quickly gave way to empathy, “batterers” or not, these were people and worthy of compassion. i made a point of introducing myself to and shaking the hands of each man, thanking them in advance for their willingness to participate. for participating in that panel, sharing about the deeply personal, painful, and shameful process of being ordered to participate in this program and how it is influencing them, cannot have been easy. the chinese side was at first a bit shell-shocked and i worried for a moment that they would not engage. but once they did, the exchange was fascinating and, i hope, meaningful for both sides. the judge who boldly asked the first question was a complete surprise to me. a conservative sort with a terrible combover, he usually seemed more interested in videotaping than asking questions. but he asked the men about the methodology the program employed, explaining that in china, they value balance – yin yang – and that anger is a natural human emotion, so if the methodology of the program was to teach them to suppress their anger, he thought that might eventually lead to problems or illness, but if the methodology was to help them to develop other means of releasing their anger, he wanted to know what those were and whether they were effective. my heart smiled to judge yi in that moment because that question was the perfect opening for a thoughtful discussion on anger and so much more, but it also was respectful of the assembled men. the group gave each of the program participants chinese stamps depicting the longest bridge in china, and the men seemed genuinely please with the gifts. i hope that in some small way their experience with us in that sunny room helps them constructing their own bridges to better places. bridges which, like those in stamps, i imagine must be very long.
so now i am full of hope, watching lazy clouds out my window. maybe i don’t have the red china blues after all. or maybe, just maybe, a moment of reflection is all i need as a remedy.
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