In connection with recent events, there has been a lot of discussion at the Center lately around the issues surrounding Tibet. It all started with a few international students organizing a Tibet forum – a space for the Center community to come together and discuss the topic freely. Initially, a couple Chinese students also participated in the organization of the forum, but they dropped out, with the last student dropping out on the day of the event. Despite this setback, the international student organizers managed to put together a good presentation, covering mostly American and Chinese media’s portrayal of the events.

To my count, four Chinese students attended, and only one had anything to say. Given the gravity and topicality of the issue, you might ask yourself: why so few? I asked myself and the Chinese students the same question. Here are the responses I received* and my personal reactions to each of those responses:

1. There is no “Tibet problem”, so there’s nothing to discuss.

I have noticed that the very individuals who insist that there is no “Tibet problem” or that there is nothing to discuss get into heated discussions on the issue as soon as it is brought up. They also seem to be much more willing to listen and consider alternative viewpoints from Chinese people (especially authority figures like professors) than foreigners. Also, students who refuse to participate in group discussions on the topic need almost no encouragement to discuss it with foreign classmates in private conversations or in small groups over lunch.

2. “Tibet problem” is an internal issue, so it is inappropriate to discuss it with foreigners.

As members of the academic world studying international relations, it is inevitable that we explore issues that are perceived by either side to be “internal” problems. When Chinese students study the history of Native Americans in the United States, the American Civil War, slavery and the Human Rights Movement, the treatment of Japanese-Americans during WWII, and the attacks on individual privacy and human rights within the United States in the wake of 9-11, they are free to discuss these events and to pass judgment as individuals. The Western students at the Center are also happy to discuss these issues with their Chinese classmates, because such dialog will be useful for both sides, helping us both to understand the issues at hand and widen our perspectives. Then why is it inappropriate for the Western students to try to understand China’s internal issues better through similar bilateral dialog? Would that discussion not be useful for both sides as well?

3. All Americans support free Tibet, so there’s nothing to discuss because we will never agree on anything.

It is not true that all Americans support free Tibet. Is it even less true that all Western Center students support free Tibet. Only open dialog can reveal how much agreement and disagreement actually does exist between Chinese and Western students at the Center. Further, the forum’s purpose was not to produce agreement, but to communicate and come to an understanding of both sides.

4. There is little reliable information available to either side, and none of us are experts on Tibet, so we cannot engage in a meaningful discussion

We all know that complete information is a rare luxury, and thus incomplete information, imperfect as it is, is often the best we can get. Policy-makers and business people normally make important decisions based on incomplete information. In fact, the ability to deal with ambiguity is a skill many employers emphasize when looking for professional-level personnel.

It is true that none of us are experts on Tibet. Some of us know more, some less. But the benefits of a discussion between non-experts are two-fold:

1. sharing the information we do have makes all of us better informed;

2. expressing and discussing our opinions on the matter refine our understanding of the various existing points of view.

Ideally, we will all continue to seek out information on the topic, but if we wait until we have complete information to discuss anything, we will never discuss it, because no matter how expert we are, our information will never be complete.

Democracy is in fact based on a multitude of people with varying levels of limited information making collective decisions. An argument against under-informed discourse is in effect an argument against democracy. That is not necessarily wrong, but simply something to consider.

5. Chinese students are tired of defending China’s point of view and being attacked by Westerners.

I understand this feeling, having been repeatedly “attacked” (verbally and ideologically) as an American while living in Europe and Russia. However, as an up-and-coming power, China will continue to come under such attacks. In fact, the more powerful a country is, the more attacks it has to endure from the rest of the world. If they want China’s national power to continue rising, Chinese people must learn to live with the (sometimes uncomfortable) consequences. Furthermore, the Center is one of the safest places to encounter such attacks. The Western students here are much more informed and often sympathetic to China than the average Westerner, and most of them try their best to conform their style of argumentation to China’s more conciliatory manner so as to avoid offending Chinese classmates and uphold a productive dialog.

6. Chinese students already know everything there is to know about the American point of view, so they don’t see the value of attending the forum.

There are undoubtedly many misconceptions among Americans about Tibet. However, in the weeks following the forum, I have learned how many misconceptions, faulty assumptions and generalizations exist among the Chinese students about the “Western” point of view on the Tibet issue, and about the points of view of their Western classmates. There are multiple points of view on both the American and Chinese sides.

(Frustrated aside: At the Center, I am often confronted with the Chinese students’ belief that they already know everything about American culture and opinions. First, this is ridiculous because even Americans can’t make this claim. Second, this makes me wonder why Chinese students decided to attend a Center where their education would focus on learning about the United States. And third, it is both arrogant and ignorant to presume to know everything about the United States without ever having lived there while implying that the Western students, many of whom have lived in China for years, will never understand this country.)

7. All Westerners want to do is interfere in China’s internal issues, and this is what the forum is all about.

Realistically speaking, the current Western students at the Center have few ways of effectually interfering in China’s internal issues. We simply don’t have the power to change anything in China. The purpose of the forum was not to bring about change, but to gain a better understanding of the variety of points of view that exist on both the American and the Chinese side. Although it may have been politically sensitive, in its essense the forum was an EDUCATIONAL, not a political event.

8. The American and Chinese points of view on this topic are widely available on the Internet, so there is no need to organize or attend this kind of forum if your only goal is to understand the other side’s point of view.

The lack of reliability of information gathered on the Internet is one of the reasons in attending the Center for many Western students. If we could learn everything we wanted to know about the Chinese point of view from the Internet and the media, we would not have paid so much money to come to the Center. Supposedly, the Chinese students are also here to learn about America from the source. The insights we gain from private conversations and group discussions are invaluable and (in my opinion) one of the most important aspects of our education here. Besides, reading is informative, but only dialog can provide one with the dual opportunity to respond and be responded to, to question and be questioned.

9. We believe that there is only one way to approach the Tibet issue, and we’re not willing to accept any other solutions.

As recent events have clearly shown, the current approach is not working very well. Maybe it’s time to discuss alternatives or at least adjustments to the current strategy.

10. We don’t want to voice our true opinions on politically sensitive topics in front of our Chinese classmates for fear of criticism or even social isolation.

I wonder how many Chinese students feel that way but are afraid to say so, and I am grateful to those who were brave enough to reveal this concern to me, even if they did so in private.

Basically, the Chinese students boycotted the forum. To me, this action was a refusal to expose oneself to ideas contrary to one’s own (and especially those coming from foreigners) on a topic that is overwhelmingly perceived as an “internal issue.” The motivations of individual students in choosing to boycott the forum might have been somewhat different, but the message was the same: we (the Chinese) are right, and you (the foreigners) are wrong not only in your ideas but also in your insistence on meddling in other people’s business.

* This is a collection of responses of a number of individuals and is not meant as a quotation or direct representation of the reaction of any one person.

I don’t deal very well with uncertainty. The absence of new posts over the past few weeks was due not so much to sheer laziness as to a nagging feeling that I shouldn’t make any updates to my electronic life until my real life gains some definition. While waiting for some semblance of certainty, I ignored my family and avoided my friends. I wasn’t looking for solitude or wallowing in loneliness – I was simply hibernating, laying low until I could finally produce a worthy piece of news for those who take an interest in my future. And now I sense that my hibernation has outlived its usefulness. I fear that if I lay low any longer, to the outside world and maybe even to myself I will appear to have died in my sleep.

It is time to come clean – I still have no news to give. I accepted a job offer in Shanghai and rejected one in Hong Kong, but I have yet to sign a contract or fix a start date. I worry that my employer will back out at the last moment, I fret about getting a visa, I question my own decisions. Have you ever played with a toy that looks like a tube filled with liquid, and the harder you try to hold on to it, the faster it slips out of your hands? If you have, imagine that that tube is your life – a future that you have worked hard to create for yourself – and understand what kind of mental strength is needed to make light of the situation and maintain enough self-control to hold on to the last bits of sanity you may still possess.

All that I can do is keep waiting.

Ya no he escrito por unas semanas, y por eso debo pedir vuestras disculpas. Tengo muchas excusas, pero en vez de enumerarlos aquí voy a contaros un poco de mi vida en China. Estudio en el Centro Hopkins-Nanjing, en la ciudad de Nanjing en el sur de China. Aunque nos encontramos en el campus de la Universidad de Nanjing, realmente los estudiantes del Centro no tienen ninguna relación importante con la Universidad en su conjunto. Yo, por ejemplo, no conozco ningun estudiante de la Universidad, solo los estudiantes del Centro.

En el Centro, más de la mitad de estudiantes son chinos, y el resto se llaman “internacionales” – los norteamericanos componen la mayoría, y además tenemos un aleman, una belga, un mexicano, una canadiense, dos coreanos y dos japoneses. Los Chinos toman lecciones en inglés y los internacionales les toman en chino. Creo que es mucho más difícil por los internacionales, porque la lectura en ingles no puede comparar en el grado de dificultad con la lectura en chino. Pues por eso los profesores norteamericanos que les dan lecciones a los estudiantes chinos están más rigurosos que los profesores chinos cuando les dan lecciones a los estudiantes internacionales. El resulto es que la cualidad de educación es menos alta que los estudios de postgrado en Estados Unidos.

Este semestre estoy tomando tres lecciones – la teoria de juegos, inversiones financieras y systemas de religión en China. Todas las lecciones son interesantes, pero los profesores de la teoria de juegos y inversiones financieras hablan demasiado rapidamente y tienen dejillos estraños. Porque los temas de ambos clases son difíciles y yo no conozco el vocabulario de economía en chino, siempre me siento como si me ahogara (???). En contrario, el profe de los systemas de religión habla muy despacio, y cada lección discutimos temas como la esencia del humano o la diferencia entre los humanos y las bestias.

Tengo muchos deberes de casa, pero hago menos y menos cada mes. La realidad es que he estado preocupada con buscar trabajo. He observado que suelo vivir en el futuro. En vez de disfrutar la vida en China, estoy pensando constantemente en el futuro. Eso no es saludable, pero no sé como vivir en otra manera. Los deciciones que tomo hoy voy a influir toda mi vida, así no quiero cometer un gran error.

灰灰的、冷冷的、下细雨的天气总是令我觉得很闷，今天也不例外。早上醒来，向窗外看一下，以为应该还没到六点，但是一看手表，发现其实已经快八点了。慢慢的起来，洗脸，吃饭，看新闻，迫使自己去体育室运动，不想运动那就跳舞，回寝室洗澡，吃饭吃的不满意，又看新闻， 想吃甜点，不想去湿湿的、冷冷的外面，借朋友的面包吃，聊天打牌，不想去图书馆读书，会寝室。。。

昨天晚上我七点半开始跳沙沙舞，一直跳到十一点。脚痛，身体酸，但是心理开心得不得了。唯一搞不清楚的问题是我为什么十一点就离开了。。。

干什么呢？对了，同学前天过生日了，万一还有剩下来的蛋糕。在网上找她，问她在干什么，昨天晚上玩得好不好？不想提起蛋糕，希望她自己先讲。她走了，没戏了。

真好！两个朋友敲门说今天有两个同学过生日，问我要不要去饭馆吃饭。 这是哪儿来的问题？希望他们选的饭馆有好吃的甜点。

我最近不跳舞就吃饭，不吃饭就跳舞。你们说，生活还有什么其它的乐趣呢？

Graduation is looming, but ironically I’m spending less and less time looking for job opportunities. I suppose it gets tiring after a while to attempt to reimagine your life in dozens of various positions, learn to enjoy (or at least tolerate) that imaginary experience, only to learn that it’s not meant to be. Offers declined, offers postponed, mainly offers never received… The comparison may be a little extreme, but I’m starting to feel like a child in an orphanage waiting to be adopted – parents come and go, images of “the perfect home” are revised and discarded, but in the end you find yourself back at the orphanage, wondering whether the problem lies in society or in yourself.

What is the perfect career, anyway? They say there’s no such thing as a perfect man, there’s only a man that’s perfect for a particular woman. Is there a job that’s perfect for me? Or is there rather a myriad of possibilities, with each one requiring compromise and realignment (or plain abandonment) of your personal goals and desires? I would estimate that the average married person spends no more than 40 waking hours a week with a spouse, while most jobs these days require a far greater commitment. Isn’t it then even more important to find a good match in a job than in a spouse? And yet there’s no equivalent to casual dating in the professional world – no possibility of doing one job today and trying out another tomorrow. Love life has been liberalized, but work life is falling behind.

What’s most important in a job? Is it the quality of the daily routine, the potential to make a contribution to mankind, the compensation package, or the number of hours stolen from your life? I suppose one has to find a combination of these factors that suits one’s needs and wants, but I’m having trouble defining my own.

I have always been an advocate of personal choice and freedom, but faced with career and marital decisions, I longingly envision the simplicity of prearrangement. Communist-style automatic job placement upon graduation and arranged marriages that still flourish in some parts of the world are looking more and more appealing day by day. Choice causes stress, and I do wonder whether resigning to accept decisions imposed on oneself by others is a greater sacrifice than a life of freedom-induced anxiety.

My roommate 陈星星 invited me to Yangzhou to celebrate the year of the rat (which is both of ours 本命年), and I just returned to Nanjing after spending three days with her family. It was an interesting experience, and I’m very grateful to Xingxing and her parents for their hospitality.

I got to Yangzhou on the bus on February 6, which was the day of the New Year’s Eve (or 除夕). Xingxing and her dad picked me up and took me to their apartment, a pretty nice place in one of Yangzhou’s suburbs. That night, Xingxing’s mother’s relatives joined us for dinner at a banquet room at a local hotel, and one of her mother’s brothers treated everyone. (Normally, New Year’s Eve and Day are spent with the husband’s family, but this rule was amended due to family circumstances.) At the beginning, there were many questions about who I was, what languages I spoke, what I was doing in Nanjing and so on, but they were addressed to Xingxing rather than myself. In general, everyone spoke the Yangzhou dialect of Mandarin the entire time, so I understood very little of what was said.

During dinner, we were all seated at one of those revolving round tables, and to my surprised there didn’t seem to be any seating arrangement except that all the men seemed to sit on one side of the table and all the women on the other. The men mostly drank 白酒, a Chinese clear liquor. According to my Western friends who have been (not so) fortunate to try it, it has quite an unpleasant flavor. The women mostly drank red wine. Surprisingly, there wasn’t very much smoking, as the men tended to wait until the end of the meal to light up a cigarette.

An interesting custom during the meal is that everyone goes around the table toasting to everyone else (an action which is called 敬酒), but one must toast to the oldest person first and end with the youngest. Everyone ate whatever they wanted, but, I suppose as a foreign guest, I was constantly invited to try various dishes.

After the meal, we returned to Xingxing’s home and watched New Year’s programming on TV while browsing the Internet. At midnight, Xingxing’s father launched some fireworks, which are incredibly loud and look like an explosion. Interestingly, the family didn’t even look at the beautiful fireworks lights – they simply launched the fireworks from the balcony for tradition’s sake. Xingxing’s mother also gave me two little red envelopes (红包). One contained 枣子 (Chinese dates) and 蛋糕 (literally cake but tasting far from), while the other had some money in it. The tradition is to put both envelopes under your pillow that night, and then eat the 枣子 and 蛋糕 the next morning before saying anything. The money you get to keep.

The next day (初一) Xingxing’s father treated all the same people to lunch at a banquet room of another hotel, and then we played cards and mahjong at Xingxing’s house. The day after that (初二), we had lunch with Xingxing’s father’s family.

There were several things I observed during my stay in Yangzhou that seem interesting from a socioeconomic perspective. First, and I confirmed this with Xingxing, men generally talk more than women at family gatherings, and couples who make more money talk more than couples who make less. I suppose it has to do with status in the extended family, as couples who make more money often decide family matters and sponsor other family members.

Second, even relatively well-off Chinese families in the south of China don’t use heating very much in the winter. They walk around the house in winter coats and warm slippers and sleep with heating pads under their sheets instead of turning on the heat. I’m still not quite sure what to attribute this to besides habitual behavior that has yet to be altered by economic development.

Third, for several weeks surrounding Chinese New Year’s, fireworks are launched almost constantly every morning and evening, and sometimes at odd hours of the night. In fact, fireworks are constantly going off right outside my window as I’m writing. As the noise makes it difficult to sleep, I have been quite frustrated by this custom. To me, it represents a lack of concern for one’s neighbors, but for the Chinese, I suppose it’s simply a tradition. Another consequence of the fireworks is trash. As fireworks are often launched off of balconies, there are torn paper wrappers all over the streets and even roofs. Even when launching fireworks from the ground, it seems uncommon for those launching to clean up after themselves.

I have to say, celebrating New Year’s in China made me miss New Year’s in Russia. It seems there the celebration was much more soulful and interesting. Although in reality it is probably so only in one’s childhood, when celebrations are still exciting and presents desirable. As adults, we become too spoiled and jaded to appreciate the magic of Christmas or New Year’s, be it Western or Chinese.

住在国外总是有点可怕，但是一个人住在中国的公寓里特别恐怖。我最害怕的是我的邻居。迄今为止，有两次可怕的事件。第一次，晚上9点左右在门口突然有巨大的噪音，把我吓了一跳。我这里谁都不认识，所以不敢开门，站在门的后面问是谁。他大声地回答说他是住在我下面的邻居，又居然开始对我大喊大叫。我没有听清楚他所说的全部，但是明白他因我空调太吵而睡不着。我冷静地跟他说，“好，对不起”以后，他就走了。我马上把我的空调光掉了，再也没有看到我那个邻居。

第二天，我又听到了很巨大的噪音，这次马上知道有人在敲门。虽然我没开空调，但是怕又是哪个邻居来了。我紧张地去问是谁，结果又有人对我大喊大叫，说我家里有东西烧者。我闻到了烧东西的味道，但是不要让这个女生近来，也不想跟她吵架。我自己看了一下，但是没有找到什么烧的东西。同时，我听到了一些愤怒的邻居讨论烧的味道是不是从楼下来的。我出来告诉他们不是我家里后，他们都去楼下检查检查。其实，我出来以后发现，在楼梯上有浓烟，味道也很重。因此，我担心房子会发火。不过，我坚忍不拔的邻居很快就把问题找出来了，并避免了灾难。

我唯一无法了解的是，我的邻居敲门的时候为什么要那么炒呢？而且，为什么一定要对我大喊大叫？问题不能冷静地解决么？这种行为在中国是典型的吗？

Como ya he escrito debajo en ruso, ha estado nevando constantemente en Nanjing últimamente, y hace bastante frío, abajo de zero grados. Así podéis imaginar mi sorpresa cuando vi una mujer lavando su pelo en un perolito en la calle. Desde entonces, la veo cada día en el mismo lugar limpiandose los dientes y lavandose la cara.

A veces me quejo al tiempo y al nievo, pero muchos de los chinos que en la vecinidad no tienen tan suerto como yo. Muchos de ellos no tienen calefacción de algun tipo en casa, y algunos hasta no tienen agua corriente. Por eso deben lavarse y limpiarse las dientes en la calle, a pesar del tiempo.

Hay muchos mendigos en mi barrio tambien. Normalmente no les hago caso, pero hace un par de días un medigo muy espantoso apareció cerca de mi casa. Su cara está gravemente dañada y me causa náuseas verla. Yo sé que el mendigo necesita dinero para sobrevivir, pero no tengo agallas de acercarlo. Otros mendigos son inquietantes tambien, especialmente la mujer que siempre está tumbando sobre la tierra congelada y no se move.

En el Oeste siempre oyo del rapido desarollo chino, pero aquí en Nanjing la pobreza a veces está más aparente.

The topic of marriage has been coming up constantly in conversation with my friends at the Center. Some of them are already married, others looking, and a few have already given up on the whole idea. Images of the ideal spouse vary somewhat, but overall are strikingly similar and often defy cultural stereotypes.

Two American men in their early twenties dream of marrying a Foreign Service officer and following her wherever she goes. Several Chinese women in their 20’s refuse to marry a man who earns less than themselves, regardless of the actual sums in question. An American man in his mid-20’s claims he would never marry a teacher because he needs someone with more ambition in life. An American woman in her early 30’s is waiting for love, refusing to settle for anything less. Two Chinese women in their 20’s say they could never forgive sexual disloyalty, while a Chinese man of the same age claims that he would, as long as no emotional commitment was involved. A Chinese woman says she married for love, while an American woman seems to have favored a more practical approach.

All of these conversations and observations led me to think about what it is that I am looking for in a partner. In the past, I have usually dated each person for a year or two before deciding that it wasn’t working, but I feel like I am now to old to afford that luxury, or to even be willing to spend too years involved in something that’s unlikely to last. Sure, I can still have short-term relationships for fun or language practice, but in general I’m looking to either be single or settle down with someone I could later marry. So, what makes a man marriage material? I think one person would need to possess all of the following: good looks, good heart, good conversation, intelligence, street/life smarts, multiculturalism, a sense of rhythm, beautiful eyes, and the ability to understand and forgive. Of course, he would also need to be around my age and reasonably healthy, but that’s usually assumed. Am I asking for too much? I guess we’ll see.

How about you? What are you/were you looking for in a partner?

Хочу упамянуть один инцидент, который случился в сентябре 2007-го. В Нанкине уже было часов 11 вечера. Один из моих однокурсников, возвращаясь в университет, заметил мужчину средних лет, лежавшего на дороге в коллее мотоциклов и велосипедов. Возможно мужчина был пьян, хотя от него не пахло алкоголем. Парень решил помочь человеку, сдвинуть его с дороги, чтобы на него никто не наехал. И так получилось, что как раз в тот момент, когда мой однокурсник пытался приподнять немелкого мужчину, незнакомца переехал мчащийся мотоцикл и уехал прочь.

Парень стремглав побежал в университет, схватил мобильник, и на ходу успел мне крикнуть: „Tам на человека наехали!“ Я поспешила за ним вслед, и вскоре увидела постанывающего мужчину, лежащего на дороге, и моего друга, уже пытающегося связаться со скорой. Еще несколько студентов выбежали на помощь. Некоторые помогали моему однокласснику звонить в скорую, другие помогали мне направлять движение, чтобы на незнакомца в темноте опять не наехал мотоцикл или велопед, а остальные просто смотрели. Прохожие китайцы останавливались, удовлетворяли любопытство и расходились. Иногда вокруг нас собирались маленькие толпы, но вскоре они тоже рассыпались в темноту. Только один человек, проезжавший мимо на мотоцикле, остановился, поинтересовался происшедшим и остался, чтобы помочь странной группе студентов-иностранцев.

Мой одноклассник вызвал и скорую, и полицию, но никто не подъезжал. Мы стояли и ждали, стараясь не прислушиваться к тихим стонам жертвы. Наконец, примерно через полчаса, приехала полиция, а за ней последовала и скорая. Из скорой вышло несколько мужчин и стали любопытно нас осматривать. Жертва происшествия их, по всей видимости, не очень интересовала. Они стояли и слушали показания, которые мой однокурсник давал полиции, и не сдвичались с места, как будто не замечая стонов, исходящих из лежащего на земле мужчины. Наконец, мы попросили их поторопиться. И тогда произошло самое необъяснимое. Несмотря на то, что у жертвы явно были серьезные раны, хотя и не было внешнего кровотечения, мужчины из скорой подняли его безо всяких церемоний, как мешок картошки, и взвалили на носилки, не обращая внимания на его крики. Нам не оставалось делать ничего, как морщиться и тайно надеяться, что мы никогда сами не попадем под машину в Китае.