I probably could have guessed the reaction to the next film in the series, World Trade Center. I was certainly familiar with the polls that showed attitudes around the world about Americans in the wake of 9/11. But it is one thing to be aware of something in a theoretical fashion, and quite another to experience first hand.
This was the only film for which I provided no formal introduction. I simply said, “This is a film, based on a true story, about the events that happened in America on September 11th, 2001.”
After the lights came back on, rather than following the tradition and having them ask me questions, I passed out a short survey. It read:

Circle the one that best represents your view:
a. The U.S. bears no responsibility for the terrorist attacks on September 11th
b. The U.S. is partly responsible for the terrorist attacks on September 11th
c. The U.S. is mostly responsible for the terrorist attacks on September 11th

 Roughly eighty percent of those who turned in the survey believed the U.S. to be at least partly responsible for the terrorist attacks on September 11th. Twenty percent marked ‘c’, while no one circled ‘a’. When I tried to codify the majority response in a number, that is, how much responsibility the U.S. bore, that number was a disturbing 50%. Most people in this room thought the U.S. bore equal responsibility with the terrorists for the events of 9/11.
 To write something down on a sheet of paper is one thing. Surely, the students would be less confrontational in their questions and comments, not wanting to risk insulting a visiting American teacher. Or not.
“Why do Americans think they are so superior?”
“What do you mean?” I responded.
“They just go into any country they like and take what they want.”
Like going into Iraq to get oil?” I replied
“Yes.”
 “How many people,” I asked, agree that America thinks it is superior to the rest of the world?” A majority of hands in the room shot up.
At this point, I made a strategic decision not to respond. My sense was that Americans have been doing enough defending of their country against international criticism. It might be time simply to listen. When someone is really angry at you, sometimes it’s best just to let them vent without trying to defend yourself. Since they feel justified in their anger, your response is not going to be persuasive anyway. And they might respect the fact that you just let them have their say.
“What,” I followed up, “would America have to do to make you feel differently about it?”
The ensuing silence can be explained, I think, not by the fact that the task for America was hopeless and that nothing we could do would change world opinion. Rather, I think a more plausible reading of their inability to respond to this question is that no one had ever asked them this before.
“Think about it,” I said, “and maybe write down some suggestions for me afterwards.”
It seemed they were just getting started. “Did America feel chastened and humbled after 9/11? Did it realize it might not be the “city on the hill” (their words) favored and protected by God?”
This was not the place to give a long discourse on the problem of evil and how believers reconcile their faith with the terrible events that happen in the world. I simply stated that no, no one’s view of their country had been changed by the events of 9/11. In fact, some may think America even more special after that day. They seemed to understand this line of reasoning even if I did not.
After clearing up some of the historical misperceptions, both for the justification of the first Iraq war and the rationale of the 9/11 bombers, someone asked what I thought about this. What would I have circled on the survey I passed out?
A fair question, I thought, but not one I was willing to answer. “I am here to listen to your views,” I said, “not to give my own.”
 “But it is not fair to have us give our opinions and not to give yours”
I had to admit the questioner had a point. O.K. I said, here goes. I said that in my view it was a moral issue. Since it is never justified to kill an innocent person and the people in the Twin Towers were innocent, the terrorists alone were responsible for the events of 9/11.
When I think back, I can see why this response pretty much killed the discussion. The students were used to me—and many other Americans—criticizing President Bush. They themselves made no distinction between the leader and the country. President Hu Jintao is China. So if Americans criticize President Bush, they must also be very critical of America. When it turned out I would defend my country against the claim of being morally blameworthy, then it became clear that to continue criticizing America would be to risk insulting a visitor, and they were not going to do that.
As I was going through their written comments afterwards I was getting pretty depressed. Not angry at the students for feeling the way they do, but hopeless that attitudes would ever change. Finally there came on comment that provided at least a ray of hope: “We need peace and we can make it peaceful”

Sometimes current events would dictate my choice of a movie. That was the case with the next film in the series, Elephant, Gus van Sant’s fictionalized retelling of the massacre at Columbine High School, which was selected as a way to generate discussion about the shootings at Virgnia Tech.
I was surprised that the shootings received the publicity they did over here.
True, it was a spectacularly violent incident. But there are many violent incidents daily around the globe. The fact that this one received the press it did over her can best be explained by the fact that events that played into negative stereotypes of Americans tend to get a lot of press here.
Soon after arriving in China I noticed that stories concerning that favorite American foible, obesity, appeared on the pages of the English language China daily with amazing frequency. In the same way, the shootings at Virginia Tech, because they confirmed another common negative stereotypes about America—that  America is a vey violent and disturbed country—became a source of fascination. (As long as were listing stereotypes, a third very popular one is that Americans don’t love their children). Before April 16th, 2007, none of my students could have pointed to Virginia (or almost anyplace in America) on a map. Now, not only my English majors, who would have a predisposition to follow American current events, but students from all disciplines, seemed unnaturally versed in the details of the crime.
In fact, I first learned of the shootings at Virginia Tech not from the media but when a student approached me as I was walking to class one morning. I thought at first she was asking me for some information about the killings at Columbine High School. No, she explained. This had just happened at a university in America. There was, not gleefulness, but a certain satisfaction as she broke this news to me. It wasn’t quite, “you people are violent barbarians who kill your own.” But it wasn’t far from that either.
. Admittedly showing Elephant did not seem the best way to fight that stereotype. As my Peace Corps site mate, Spencer, succinctly put it: “Why do you want to open up that can of worms?” His point was well taken. When opinions are as settled and set in concrete, logic and reason seem impotent. Witness any political debate in America. To the Chinese, living in a land that that outlawed private gun ownership, America was a hopelessly violent nation. Nothing I could say in an evening was going to change their opinion. To a large extent, I shared their concerns about the level of violence in my country, though invariably in discussions with students on this topic, I wound up sounding like a member of the NRA.
Just a few days after the shooting, I had a conversation with a freshman at the East campus where I had gone to give a talk. Afterwards I wanted to stroll the campus grounds, which are quite pleasant, but she persisted in accompanying me so she could practice her English. Along the way, she ended up grilling me about American gun violence.
“Why do you need guns in America?”
“Some people have them to protect themselves,” I replied.
“That is what we have the police for in China.”
“But who is going to protect you from the police?” said my inner Charlton Heston.
She seemed simply not to understand that one. “Suppose you are going to get raped. You could not fight off the rapist with yourself. But if you had a gun, you might be able to stop him.”
“This situation does not happen with China.”
 When pressed, she informed me that women who are raped more or less ask for it.
This is about the level of the discussion I brace myself for as the movie ends with the horrific slow motion scene of the students mercilessly gunning down their classmates.
What, I wonder, will the first question hit on? Will they begin with a direct assault on America? Or will they limit their questions to the details of the movie? It’s a compelling enough film that perhaps we will just discuss it. Will they ask me for my views on the issue? What will I say?
All these are floating in my head so that I barely look at the woman who poses the first question so concerned am I to set the proper tone for the discussion.
Can you start your question again, I request, thinking I must have heard it wrong.
“Yes,” she says. “In the school cafeteria, the students get their lunch, but they do not pay for it. Is this common in America?”

I showed the last movie of my first year, Al Gore’s “An Inconvenient Truth,” months before he was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. But if I had been expecting the sort of powerful emotional reaction that followed most American screenings of this film, I would have been greatly disappointed. Fortunately, I had gradually been giving up my expectations for the discussion and was getting better at letting them go in their own direction.
Gone tonight was both the outrage at the destruction of the environment impressingly detailed in the film’s power point presentation as well as the scepticism regarding its more controversial claims expressed in some corners. The two propositions that are the cause of such debate in America (a) that the planet’s temperature is increasing (b) that humans are the cause of it were accepted by a unanimous show of hands afterwards.
After two minutes, it seemed we had run out of things to talk about. Fortunately, they did disagree on whether this was a good thing or a bad thing, and someone related, not for the first time in my experience in China, the story about the runaway horse. The story comes from the second century BCE Huainanzi, but is familiar to many around the world who have never heard of this work. A man loses his horse. His neighbors want to commiserate with him on his loss, but the man responds that this may be good fortune. Sure enough, the horse soon returns bringing along with him many other horses, causing the neighbors to congratulate the man, who warily responds that this may in fact be bad luck. When his son breaks his leg riding one of the new horses, his neighbors agree with him on this verdict. But the man is too quick for them. Who knows, he says, this may be good fortune, and seems to be proven right when an army comes through looking for to conscript volunteers and do not take his son because of the injury.
Instead of being inspired to fight the menace of global warming, the students seemed resigned to accepting its inevitability. At first, I thought this showed some lack of character on their part. The  film ends with a list of things that the viewer can do to combat global warming, and I recall on first seeing this film on being inspired to do my part in the campaign against this environmental evil and to be a good eco-warrior. But tonight, perhaps because of the setting, I began viewing my initial optimism with a more Eastern eye. The film had been pretty stark. Massive changes were under way with respect to the warming of the planet that probably could not be altered, or at least without a massive global effort that simply was not likely to occur.
Changing light bulbs and writing my congressmen would only accomplish so much. These students had no congressperson to write and could not possibly consume less anyway. What was there to do except wait for the horse to return

The next film up was supposed to be “Good Night and Good Luck,” about the communist witch hunt in America and the newsman, Edward R.Murrow, who stood up to Sen. Joe McCarthy. In truth, I was surprised they had approved this film, given its hostile characterization of communism in places. In my rationale for showing the film, I pointed out that those critical of communism are portrayed in a largely negative manner and mostly the film is about how some in America overreacted to the spreading presence of Communism. I was incredibly curious what my students’ reactions would be: whether they would draw any parallel between the American government’s suppression of dissenting voices and that of their own country’s. Unfortunately, I never got to find out because the film simply would not play. Hmmm. Fortunately, I had brought along a couple of other films just in case, as I had learned from numerous experiences that you always needed a plan B over here. So I showed “Crash.” Showcasing racism and gun violence, it was bound to be a real winner
Here are some of the written questions I received :

1. “It seems that every family owns their guns in America? Is that right? Could you tell us something about guns in America?”
2. “Was the racial discrimination between the white and the black really very serious in America in the past?”
3. “I want to know if the black man are treated like that in the movie?”
4. “I just can’t understand why the black man is so polite to the white policeman? If he fight against the policeman, what will the results be?”
5. “I want to know why there are so many dangerous places in America in people’s everyday life? It seems to make us feel that if a white policeman point a gun at your head, he may easily shoot you. Why?
6. “What exactly does the movie want to tell us?”
7. Why aren’t there any Chinese in the film?

I am not sure this was the wisest choice. It seemed to confirm many of their fears about what a dangerous place America is, despite my assurances that they would be able to travel almost anywhere in America in complete safety. People literally screamed at the scene where the Iranian shop owner pulls a trigger and seems to shoot a little girl by accident. This scene also provided a lesson in screening films to see whether there were any scenes that might require additional explanation. In a culture where private ownership of guns is banned, no one knew what a blank was, and so they were extremely puzzled as to why the girl did not die. Many thought it was a miracle.

 

 

I probably could have guessed the reaction to the next film in the series, World Trade Center. I was certainly familiar with the polls that showed attitudes around the world about Americans in the wake of 9/11. But it is one thing to be aware of something in a theoretical fashion, and quite another to experience first hand.
This was the only film for which I provided no formal introduction. I simply said, “This is a film, based on a true story, about the events that happened in America on September 11th, 2001.”
After the lights came back on, rather than following the tradition and having them ask me questions, I passed out a short survey. It read:

Circle the one that best represents your view:
a. The U.S. bears no responsibility for the terrorist attacks on September 11th
b. The U.S. is partly responsible for the terrorist attacks on September 11th
c. The U.S. is mostly responsible for the terrorist attacks on September 11th

 Roughly eighty percent of those who turned in the survey believed the U.S. to be at least partly responsible for the terrorist attacks on September 11th. Twenty percent marked ‘c’, while no one circled ‘a’. When I tried to codify the majority response in a number, that is, how much responsibility the U.S. bore, that number was a disturbing 50%. Most people in this room thought the U.S. bore equal responsibility with the terrorists for the events of 9/11.
 To write something down on a sheet of paper is one thing. Surely, the students would be less confrontational in their questions and comments, not wanting to risk insulting a visiting American teacher. Or not.
“Why do Americans think they are so superior?”
“What do you mean?” I responded.
“They just go into any country they like and take what they want.”
Like going into Iraq to get oil?” I replied
“Yes.”
 “How many people,” I asked, agree that America thinks it is superior to the rest of the world?” A majority of hands in the room shot up.
At this point, I made a strategic decision not to respond. My sense was that Americans have been doing enough defending of their country against international criticism. It might be time simply to listen. When someone is really angry at you, sometimes it’s best just to let them vent without trying to defend yourself. Since they feel justified in their anger, your response is not going to be persuasive anyway. And they might respect the fact that you just let them have their say.
“What,” I followed up, “would America have to do to make you feel differently about it?”
The ensuing silence can be explained, I think, not by the fact that the task for America was hopeless and that nothing we could do would change world opinion. Rather, I think a more plausible reading of their inability to respond to this question is that no one had ever asked them this before.
“Think about it,” I said, “and maybe write down some suggestions for me afterwards.”
It seemed they were just getting started. “Did America feel chastened and humbled after 9/11? Did it realize it might not be the “city on the hill” (their words) favored and protected by God?”
This was not the place to give a long discourse on the problem of evil and how believers reconcile their faith with the terrible events that happen in the world. I simply stated that no, no one’s view of their country had been changed by the events of 9/11. In fact, some may think America even more special after that day. They seemed to understand this line of reasoning even if I did not.
After clearing up some of the historical misperceptions, both for the justification of the first Iraq war and the rationale of the 9/11 bombers, someone asked what I thought about this. What would I have circled on the survey I passed out?
A fair question, I thought, but not one I was willing to answer. “I am here to listen to your views,” I said, “not to give my own.”
 “But it is not fair to have us give our opinions and not to give yours”
I had to admit the questioner had a point. O.K. I said, here goes. I said that in my view it was a moral issue. Since it is never justified to kill an innocent person and the people in the Twin Towers were innocent, the terrorists alone were responsible for the events of 9/11.
When I think back, I can see why this response pretty much killed the discussion. The students were used to me—and many other Americans—criticizing President Bush. They themselves made no distinction between the leader and the country. President Hu Jintao is China. So if Americans criticize President Bush, they must also be very critical of America. When it turned out I would defend my country against the claim of being morally blameworthy, then it became clear that to continue criticizing America would be to risk insulting a visitor, and they were not going to do that.
As I was going through their written comments afterwards I was getting pretty depressed. Not angry at the students for feeling the way they do, but hopeless that attitudes would ever change. Finally there came on comment that provided at least a ray of hope: “We need peace and we can make it peaceful”

The venue would stay the same for all of the films. Room 112 in Classroom Building Seven is an auditorium style classroom that had seen its better days. Rows of worn wooden chairs are mounted into place behind long, metal shelving serving as desktops and divided into three sections. A two tier chalkboard runs nearly the length of the front the room, but for movie nights a less than theater sized but sufficient screen drops down. Tonight, the projection on the screen reads: “Cinderella Man/The Great Depression/A Presentation by Dr. Vee.” It’s the name I am known by on campus, since my real last name is simply too much of a tongue twister. Tonight, I lecture briefly before the film on some of the causes, effects and cures of the Great Depression, though in truth I don’t think I told them anything they didn’t already know. My sense is that my Chinese students were more knowledgeable about U.S. history than my American students. The movie runs more or less without a hitch and then it’s time for questions. Most students prefer to write them down and have me read them, since they lack confidence in their English speaking ability.

This is not the case, however, with the first query. It is from a neatly dressed, serious looking young man sporting a crew cut and speaking nearly fluent English and who turns out to be a senior math major accepted into graduate school at Purdue. He points out that American virtues such as self reliance and courage seemed to be on display in the film. The main character not only manages to take care of himself and his family through difficult times, but also succeeds through his own effort in winning the heavyweight championship of the world. Does the glorification of these character traits constitute the central theme of the film?

Even at that time, early on in my stay in China, the view that most Chinese have of Americans was already pretty clear. The situation could perhaps best be illustrated by my British and American culture class, where I would start each term by asking students what character traits they associated with being an American. Individualistic and self-reliant were in everybody’s top three, with ambitious usually rounding out the list.  The only thing more consistent than qualities they assigned to my countrymen was the thinness of their justifications. Someone knew an older American woman who would not take a seat offered on a bus; hence, Americans did not like to rely on others. Or a textbook from middle school informed them that American children are forced to leave their home at age eighteen, or pay rent. This makes it obvious that Americans prefer to live independently.
The fact that they had such little reason to defend their stereotypes made me reluctant to agree with even the bits of truth such generalizations contained.. And, lest anyone think they took a positive view of the American personality, I should point out that the students saw themselves as operating at the opposite end of the spectrum, viewing the Chinese cooperative and group oriented outlook as vastly more humane than the American go it alone attitude.

Hence, the fact that the question seemed merely to want me to confirm a stereotype made me push back perhaps harder than I should have. I pointed out the many examples of social cooperation in the film, arguing, for example, that the fighter himself must rely on public assistance, so is hardly a walking advertisement for self-reliance. Moreover, in the film we see men and women living together in shanty towns and bonding together to fight against economic injustice. Cooperation and social reliance are as much a part of the film as independence and self reliance.

If the theme is not these American virtues, asked the next questioner, is it simply a story about the American dream of fame and fortune? But if the point was to glorify fame and fortune, I replied, why focus on the plight of all the good men and women who suffered in the Depression through no fault of their own? No, I argued. By showing us graphic scenes of historical poverty, I think the film was trying to makes us aware of the plight of those less fortunate than us, not just back then but in present day America.

And what about present day America? Isn’t it true there is a growing gap between the rich and poor in America? They had me on this one. I would do many things to defend my country over here, but lying was not among them. Instead of launching into an apologia that would probably have completely destroyed my credibility, I pointed out how one of the candidates for the American presidency at that time, John Edwards, was making poverty in America the theme of his campaign.

This sort of give and take, with the audience wanting their preconceptions confirmed and my trying to find someway to fight back without sounding too much like a cheerleader, characterized many of the discussion.

The stated goal of the series “American Culture at the Movies” was to use film in order to shed light on and increase the understanding of American culture and values. Except for being shown on Friday evenings, there was no regular schedule for the movies—that would have gone against the grain of everything I had witnessed on my campus, where lectures and meetings were arranged at the last possible moment while students were forcibly corralled into attendance. Consistent with this policy, I received a text message on Wednesday afternoon informing me that the inaugural showing in the series would be this Friday evening. I had previously submitted a list of possible titles along with plot summaries and my rationale for wanting to include them in the series. This was the formal approval process at the beginning, although after a while that requirement was either dropped or simply not enforced. For that first evening, the movie chosen was Cinderella Man.

There were plenty of good cultural reasons to watch a movie about the inspiring comeback of a washed up boxer during the Depression. The Great Depression is obviously an important chapter in the story of my country. And while boxing may not have been invented in the United States, there is something peculiarly American about the sport: the violence of the sport not unrelated to the nature of the culture. But in truth, historical curiosity was not the rationale for choosing the film. If you want to understand what was behind the selection of this movie, think more of a car wreck or a house fire.

I have been told there is no Chinese equivalent to the word “schadenfreude,” and besides, we generally don’t apply the term to include the collective enjoyment of another culture’s suffering. But since there is more than a little resentment here at the status of America in the world community (as would become apparent in the discussion following some of the showings), I can guarantee that the opportunity to watch a movie depicting the world’s superpower at a low point of its financial clout played no small part in the selection. The selection was also influenced by the fact that viewing the film would allow students a chance to play everyone’s favorite parlor game in China: morally bad mouthing America. To be sure, racism, violence and obesity were probably the top three gross defects of which my homeland is viewed as being guilty of in the eyes of Chinese in general and my students in particular. But the situation of poverty in America, that in a land of wealth and abundance there could be so many poor people, was also an egregious shortcoming worth mulling over for an evening. Obviously, the historical situation of the Depression would (and did) provide a platform for commentary on the contemporary situation. In short, the choice seemed like a winner

Since I am spending a lot of time writing these days, I thought I would serialize one of the essays I am working on. Here is Part 1

THE MARX BROTHERS IN CHINA: GROUCHO, HARPO AND CHICO PLAY CHENGDU

This is the last film I’ll be showing in China, and for obvious reasons, I’m a little sad. During my time as a Peace Corps volunteer at Sichuan Normal University in Chengdu, in addition to my usual teaching load, I have also organized and moderated a campus wide film series. For two years I have shown contemporary releases such as There Will Be Blood, Crash, and Elephant as well as classic films like Casablanca, Citizen Kane and Harvey to an audience comprised mostly of students in the foreign language department, although anyone in the campus community is invited. Sponsored by the oddly named English Fans Association, the showings take place in a large auditorium style classroom which seats around 250 people. I usually give a short presentation before the film, and there is a discussion afterwards.

Although the main duty of Peace Corps volunteers in China is to teach oral English at our assigned universities in Sichuan, Gansu, Guizhou and Chongqing, we are also encouraged to develop secondary projects consistent with the organization’s goals, one of which is to “promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of the peoples served.” American film in China is certainly an area that cries out for a better understanding.
It is not the lack of opportunity to see American films that is cause of the situation. True, few major releases make it over here, and movie ticket prices are incredibly expensive relative to the average income.  But cheap or free American movies are widely available. In addition to the innumerable shops selling pirate DVDs at about seventy five cents a pop, my university has almost any American film you would want on its website, complete with Chinese subtitles. Students see a lot of American films. The problem is that what they wind up watching not only does not contribute much to their understanding of American culture, but often gives them a distorted view of my home country.

At the start of every semester, I would ask my students to name their favorite American film. With only slight variation from class to class and semester to semester, the top vote getters were: Titanic, Braveheart and Forrest Gump. The rest of the list was populated with the usual blockbusters and an eclectic collection of older films led, for some reason I was unable to decipher, by Roman Holiday. I am not sure what view of a people or a culture results from such an eclectic list, but I don’t think it can be called well-rounded, comprehensive or even particularly accurate. If film played no role in shaping their world view, I might not be so concerned. But my students were convinced, for example, that American Pie accurately represented the sexual mores of the majority of my fellow citizens. The news was not all bad, however, as evidenced by the fact that Brokeback Mountain was sited time and again by those voicing support for homosexual rights.

It seemed, then, film presented a great and largely untapped opportunity to teach about my culture in a meaningful and substantive manner rather than in a frivolous and misleading one. Although my original goal was to show films from the American Film Institute’s list of one hundred greatest American films, the student organization sponsoring the event was concerned to discover this would mean that the films would be older than the audience. I could see their point. So in classic Chinese fashion we compromised. We would begin the series with contemporary movies, and once I had established a following, I could introduce some of my beloved classics.

What have I been up to lately? Saying a lot of good byes to people, having farewell meals, getting and giving gifts. Time is just about up here folks. There is still a month to go but school is over and campus is emptying out. The weather has turned full blast summer, which means air conditioned nights unless I want to be uncomfortable. I am mainly writing up my notes, working on trying to put together a proposal on a China book before I go, also working on the This I Believe material, and still as ever studying Chinsse, which appears will be my new hobby. School is over here and now we are just waiting to be given permission to go. It reminds me of nothing so much as the last day of vacation, where you have to check out of the hotel and hang around with nothing to do because you have a late flight. It doesn't really seem like a day of the vacation, and hanging around the pool isn't any fun really because you know you have to be on a bus to the airport in a few hours. It's time to go. You wish you had booked that early flight.

Last night a long talk with my counterpart teacher, Wang Jiali. This was the Chinese teacher here who is my contact point with the university and responsible for seeing that things go smoothly. Many volunteers never see their counterparts or don't have the best relationships with them, but Jiali has been great. I thought we were just going to get together to exchange gifts, but she had some things she wanted to chat about, mainly about her life and what she is going to do. She is 27, recently married. Her husband lives in Shenzhen, which is pretty far away, near HOng Kong. He works in business, and she is considering quitting her job her and moving there and trying to start a new career. After two  years of working at Sichuan Normal she is tired of teaching and not happy with an academic existence. She was going to go to get her Ph.D. (she has a masters), but the university didn't approve, so that if she wants to go, she will have to resign her job. She is going to spend the summer with her husband and try to look for some other job, though she admits she is not really trained to do anything. But like many young people in China, she sense the economic opportunity, knows many people including old classmates who are getting rich and wants to get in on it. But she is naturally afraid to leave the security of an academic job. She is smart and capable and speaks great English, so I imagine she can succeed but one never knows what the future will hold.

I am thinking of bringing together a collection of these esays to form a sort of portrait of the ideas and worldview of my students to anyone who might be interested. Here is the introduction to the section on the five essays below

Chapter 1: The family

It is only right and fitting to start a book purporting to provide a relatively accurate and meaningful representation of the worldview of Chinese undergraduates with a chapter devoted to the family. Indeed, it is hard to overstate the importance of the family in Chinese life.

The relationship with the parent is at the core of the typical Chinese undergraduate’s life in a way that would surprise most of their American counterparts.  Most students do not work or take out loans. Instead, their parents pay for their education, often taking upon themselves great struggle and hardship in order to accomplish this task. It’s often been pointed out there is a implicit bargain here, since children are expected to care for their elderly parents. But in my experience this is a task that is accepted not as a burden but as a privilege. Although there are signs that things may be changing, when I have asked my classes how many of them intend to care for their elderly parents, almost every student has stuck up his or her hand. Some of this may be on account of peer pressure. But the fact that they even feel pressure in such a situation itself says much about the parent-child relationship.

As with much in China, this begins with Confucius. There is no Chinese equivalent to the Bible, but the Analects of Confucius come pretty close. For thousands of years, the values espoused in this work provided the overarching moral structure in Chinese society. Certainly, this all changed with the coming to power of the Communists. But as China searches for a coherent value scheme in the twenty first century, Confucius has become popular again.
Although the Confucian view of society is structured around five relationships—ruler to subject, husband to wife, parent to child, elder brother to younger brother, friend to friend—three of these five deal with family. This should provide you with some idea of the relative importance of family in the Confucian world view. Certainly, much has changed over time. At least in name there is no power differential between the ruler and subject in Communist China, and equality between husband and wife has been incorporated into the Chinese Constitution. But the centrality of family—the heart of which is the obligation between the parent and the child—seems alive and well.  It is enshrined in the second passage of Confucius’s classic work, The Analects: As for filial responsibility (xiao), it is, I suspect, the root of authoritative conduct.” That is, if you are not a good son or daughter, how can you be a good person?

The value is alive and well today. One need only turn on the television to see that this is the case. A commercial that still runs frequently opens with a mother giving her young son a foot bath—a very popular activity for all ages over here, I might add, and one I would recommend. The next scene shows the mother giving her own elderly mother, who is obviously living with her, a foot bath. We switch back to the son, who is looking for his mother and finds her in the midst of the above mentioned activity. In the final scene, we witness the son walking from the bathroom with a basin of water, taking his first steps on his life long road of Confucian-induced responsibility to the parent by giving his mother a footbath. 

As the essays the follow demonstrate, the bond goes across the generations, and is one forged often under difficult circumstances.  These stories remind us as well that what binds us together is much greater than what separates us.

 

I Believe in Memory

Memory decorates our minds as well as our lives. Memory means the most, though, for those who are approaching the end of their days.
When I was a child, I used to circle around my grandfather who was sitting still in his old armchair. Closing his eyes and enjoying the late afternoon sunshine, he seemed to dive into his own thoughts with a contented smile on his face. In fact, he could sit in that armchair the whole day. I felt concerned and thought there might be some difficulty he was dealing with. “Grandpa,” I would say. “You should tell me your problems and I can help you with them.” At that moment, Grandpa opened his eyes and patted me lightly on the head and smiled. “Little Xia, grandpa is not bothered by any worries. I am reviewing my memory.”
What he said intrigued me. Was memory a delicious cake to be sampled in this way? For a 7 year old girl, memory meant nothing. At age 10, I left my grandparents to live with my father. At that time, my parents were having difficulties, and my father decided to raise me all by himself. When I was fourteen, my grandpa departed from me forever, leaving only the memory of his sitting in his armchair reviewing his memory.
With the passage of time, I gradually realized the truth of memory. As grandfather told me, memory was the eye to the past that recorded each period of life and become the only proof of our existence in the world. It is like a silver bell clinging to our heart. Only if we call on our memory time and again can it make its melodious ring. In some situations, I refuse to ring the bell, such as with the situation of my parents’ divorce when I was ten. However, this naughty lady with lovely long white hair and blue eyes will disappear at moments when I expect her to appear and appear again from nowhere when I thought she had long vanished.
Grandpa was contented with his past, with the fruits he gained from the tree of life. So when the ripening memory was approaching its fruition, its taste was especially sweet. This is why I believe in memories, and in building a life that will be rich with these.

A PAIR OF SHOES
I believe in a pair of shoes.
When I was a young girl, I was brought up by my grandmother. She was a traditional woman, doing all of the housework day after day. But what I remember is not her cleaning or cooking, but the fact that she could make the best shoes in the world. You don’t have to take my word for this. Even today, others confirm she had the subtlest and deftest needlework in our village. I still remember every year I received the new shoes as a gift and wore them, happy as a free flying bird, dancing and singing in the yard. I grew so quickly that every year I received to pairs of shoes. During that time, I did not realize the love that my grandmother sewed into those shoes along with the threads. She did not measure my feet, but somehow the shoes were always a perfect fit.
When I was 8 years old, I found her repeating the same tedious stories time and again, forgetting minutes later what she had just said. I knew she suffered from senile dementia, which is a family disease. I was so sad as my family lived a hard life without any mother to cure my grandmother. She was clear about her disease and she knew there was little time left for her to do something for the family—her son and her granddaughter. She began to sit all day long, needling and treading to make thick bags for my father to take his heavy tools to work and to make shoes for me. I knew nothing about these activities and so criticized her for spending so little time with me. I became impatient with her repeating the same stories.
Soon after this, we lost grandmother to dementia. The last thing I received from her was a pair of shoes. When she was still conscious, she told me that I should take care of myself and I should wear shoes bought from the shop although they were not as good for my growing feed as the shoes she made. I did not understand the real meaning of her words until I grew up. I kept that last pair of shoes hanging on the wall.
I treasured that pair of shoes like a sacred gift from heaven. My mother tried one day to make another pair. But he knew no one would ever again be able to make a pair of shoes as comfortable as the ones from grandmother. The reason was that besides the remarkable craftsmanship, it was the deepest love that most those shoes the most comfortable ones in the world. This I believe

MY MOTHER’S HAPPINESS

I believe everyone has his own happiness. Not only the rich, but the poor also. Not only the shopkeeper, but the beggar as well. Even a dog has its own happiness. From this, I know that it often makes little sense to show sympathy towards someone. The person you pity may in fact be in a better situation than yourself.

While travelling last summer, I witnessed a wandering singer by the road, strumming his guitar, with a few coins scattered about the case that sat in front of him. My first thought was, what a pitiable person, who must scratch out a meager living in such a humiliating fashion. But watching him play, laughing with the audience, and walking away contentedly when the performance was finished, I realized that  the joy he gets and receives compensates for any financial shortcomings. Who do I know that performs their life’s work with such enthusiasm? The moral of the story is that we must be careful of passing judgment on the happiness of others.

Most of my neighbors said that my mother had bad fortune because she had to raise my brother and myself on little money and with a bad tempered husband who seemed unable to keep a job. I remember it as being a hard life. When I was eight years old, the money my father earned could not maintain our life. So he decided to go to Guangzhou, saying he would return in three years. This meant that my mother would have to look after two young children and cultivate the land alone during this time. Many people said that would be impossible for my mother.

In fact, she did quite well during this time, though things were never easy, and she always seemed on the verge of exhaustion. But she said that that letters my father sent and the certificates of merit I received at school made her happy. She always said she was satisfied with her life because she had a pair of children and a husband to live for. The most important thing was that we were healthy.

I believe imy mother was happy even if few other people realized it. I believe deeply in this happiness, because it reminds me not to pass judgement on others and,  more importantly, to focus on what is truly meaningful in life.

Qiao Chunyan