mapping the moral world

the title of this post is actually larger than the scope of my speculation about where the moral self resides.

yesterday evening at dinner with friends, we talked about the difficulties that young people face in high school. shenzhen students, it was agreed, face the pressure of tests. however, in general, their social worlds are simple and relatively innocent. in contrast, western high schools tend to have less pressure to perform well on tests, but many more social challenges of the sex, drugs, and rock and roll variety.

this is where the conversation became interesting.

my friends insisted that smoking pot was one of the worst things a student could do, leading to all sorts of depravity. i don’t advocate smoking pot, but did point out that it seemed to me less reprehensible than cheating on exams. counter point: my friend said that everyone cheated because the scores were so important. cheating was therefore understandable, even if it wasn’t necessarily wise. smoking pot, however, showed a student’s selfishness and lack of concern for family and friends.

what interested me in this conversation is where my friends and i drew our moral lines. i didn’t have problems with behavior that i believe affects the individual, but did draw the line at breaking rules that protected a group of people; cheating, for me, is a question of ethics where smoking pot seemed a more personal question. in contrast, my friends saw pot smoking as a repudiation of responsibilities toward family and friends, while cheating was a “reasonable” response to exam pressures.

our common point was that ethics is about responsibilities toward others in our lives. we differed in the groups we chose as our ethical point of reference. more interestingly still was my friends’ idea that care of the self (by not smoking pot) was in fact an ethical question because one’s body belongs to family and friends and not primarily to some self.

all this begs two interesting questions: (1) just what is a self and (2) how we determine who constitutes our ethical horizons.

shenzhener identity, reconsidered

This post about razed Shenzhen childhoods is inspired by an ongoing conversations with Melissa and several other post-80 young women (80后女性).

Melissa came to Shekou in the early 80s, attending elementary and middle school before going abroad. As I have indicated in other posts, Old Shekou and Old Shenzheners were different. Melissa was part of the Old Shekou group, those who came with China Merchants to establish the Shekou Industrial Zone between the years 1978 to 1988 (the year of the Shekou Tempest). In contrast, “Old Shenzheners” were those who came to build Shenzhen in the early 80s, when “Shenzhen” referred to the area from the Dongmen commercial area to the Shanghai hotel (at the western border of Huaqiangbei).

To paraphrase Gregory Bateson, the differences between an Old Shekou family and an Old Shenzhen were differences that have made for different lives. Melissa’s story is that of growing up with the Shekou spirit, which was progressive and liberal. I have written much about Shekou because Old Shekou people hoped to build a new society and it was, if anywhere in was in Shenzhen, Utopian. In contrast, Old Shenzhen (especially through Liang Xiang) has been more explicitly associated with the rise of the city’s explicitly materialist cultural.

Nevertheless, despite the opposing ideological significance of 80s Shekou and Shenzhen, I’ve spoken to several young post 80s women with similar life histories – came with parents to Shenzhen / Shekou in the 1980s, read books in parks, went for walks along the beach, enjoyed the city’s clean environment and small population, and did a lot of studying in high school before leaving for college (either abroad or Beijing/Shanghai/Guangzhou).

Interestingly, all speak of the same 近乡情怯 experience, which seems to have started as an inarticulate feeling toward the end of the 1990s and has grown into an expressed and discussed sentiment in the new millennium. The Shekou / Shenzhen that they remember are very different from the contemporary city. Shekou in particular has become a vexed symbol of past dreams. Today, Shekou is relatively backward, but more importantly has been absorbed into the surging mass of urban Shenzhen. At the same time, the city’s parks are smaller and more exotic (how many imported palm trees does one city need?), the skies are grayer, and the streets are now considered unruly enough that families don’t feel comfortable allowing middle school daughters to wander off by themselves. In other words, these post 80s women, whether they still live in Shenzhen or elsewhere, speak of a growing alienation from the city.

Ironically, their’s is precisely the generation that many once predicted as who would be true “Shenzheners” – people who identified with the city, rather than with their hometowns. People who would have an unproblematic relationship to Shenzhen as their “hometown”. This was in fact the generation for whom the city was built. Continue reading

revolutionary shenzhen

the revolution haunts shenzhen. revolutionary promises, kept and disregarded, successes and defeats erupt in conversation in part because we are still only sixty years from the revolution and in part because so many revolutionaries came to shenzhen a mere thirty years ago. the present only feels worlds away from mao. in fact, traces of socialist dreams still infuse everyday life.

just yesterday after yoga, for example, i chatted with a classmate named ‘ming’. i had thought he was shiny bright ming, but it turns out he was ‘free airing of voices and expression’ ming (大鸣大放). mao had encouraged free airing of views and expression at the beginning of the anti-rightist campaign (57-59) and my friend ming was born in 1958 and named accordingly. indeed, off the top of his head, he could name four friends, who shared his name. Continue reading

magic moments

shenzhen buses have televisions, which broadcast pre-recorded programs which coble together news reports of major events (such as the expo in shanghai), as well as produced clips of famous skits (小品), imported western comedies (home video moments of children jumping and cats in baby carriages), strange competitions (in which restaurant staff compete to set a banquet table the most quickly), and top ten music video countdowns (which are often repeated and always interrupted midway to announce bus stops).

i understand these programs to be negotiations of the tension between ongoing propaganda campaigns (it was on a bus that i first heard of the campaign to conserve water in shenzhen, for example) and approved-yet-profitable popular culture (the buses also provide advertising blitzes for movies and pop singers). that is, these bus programs are useful indications of both what the party thinks shenzhen people should be thinking and what actually engages shenzhen people’s minds. consequently, when these programs added clips of magic tricks – card tricks, woman sawed in half tricks, vanishing boat tricks, multiplying cheer leader tricks – to their programming, i began wondering about when and why the manipulation of appearances had become so popular in a city that is explicit in its support for and origin in science.

[side note: shenzhen was an explicit realization of the four modernizations. as such, it has used scientific (科学) to describe what in the u.s. we would call “rational” as in “rational development (科学的发展)” and “rational management (科学的管理)”. “scientific” is also a term of commendation, as in: she does things in a rational/scientific way (她做事很科学).]

so what follows is speculation on why magic in shenzhen, now. Continue reading

a character is a universe

today, i met chang hongcai, a calligrapher. teacher chang’s studio is located in liuxiandong (留仙㓊),an artist colony of sorts. the liuxian village head has rented out (at cheap cheap prices) an entire six story factory to a group of artists, who use the building as studio space. importantly, these artists are not struggling emergents, but established artists whose work is shown throughout china and the world. teacher chang, for example, is a highly respected calligrapher whose work hangs in some of china’s top museums.

we talked about many things – tea, the book of changes, and taichi – but all topics departed from and returned to calligraphy as the essential philosophy of china. according to teacher chang, how one holds the brush, each brush stroke, the actual meaning of the character, all this together forms a universe. he used the character “one (一)” to develop his point:

to write a proper yi one holds the brush with the entire body, arms loosely held as in taiji, one’s qi flowing. the brush stroke itself (and it is one fluid motion) actually follows the contours of the symbol for yinyang, stretching beyond the limits of a line and returning into infinity as the brush circles, pauses, and then quickly flicks back into itself. according to teacher change, the process of writing is itself chinese philosophy; calligraphy cannot be rushed, but must be cultivated, like breathing.

teacher chang also spoke of 势 (shi) or immanent tendency of a stroke. his explanation of 永字八法 (the 8 methods in the character yong) focused on how each stroke was in fact in motion. a heng, for example, was pulled like a bow and a gou was kicked back, strongly and decisively. a stroke that just ended because the brush was lifted, was a stroke that had been cut off, was empty. fullness came from the motion of the stroke, which had its own rhythm and spirit. in fact, when teacher chang helped me see a character, he emphasized the moving brush such that it seems possible to understand shi as traces of the calligrapher’s spirit; her body, her hand, her knowledge, her state of mind, her understanding of the world – all this comes together in the stretch and flick of ink on paper.

practicing calligraphy helps us center the mind and cultivate a good attitude because the idea that “a character is a universe” reminds us that we constantly (re)create the world. indeed, that is all we ever do.

low carbon lifestyles…

the current dearth of sexts hasn’t stopped chinese text message snark. the latest mocks poverty and environmentalism:

现在无房无车无妹子的三无宅男,有了一个新称号——低碳哥。

there’s a new nickname for men without a house, a car and a girl — low-carbon bro.

of note, the “three withouts” in this message are possessions – a house, a car, and a girl. once upon a time in shenzhen, “three withouts” referred to status: no shenzhen hukou, no job, and no home… so an interesting shift in nomenclature. we seem to have gone from seeing the importance of status to seeing the disgrace when one lacks possessions. it could also indicate the extent that those without status are no longer seen at all and the new butts of these jokes are not the truly dispossessed, but unemployed college graduates.

fat bird winking…

one of the more useful of chinese colloquialisms remains “one eye open, one eye shut (睁一只眼闭一只眼)”. it means knowing what’s going on, but ignoring it. for example, last night fat bird performed an abridged version of “happy academy” for the leaders of shenzhen university (well those few who accepted an invite). the play’s more controversial parts (castration as part of the scientific method, for example) were edited out for that particular performance. however, every other day this week, the original version has been performend as written, with drag queens and castration complexes abounding.

the thing is, no one is surprised by any of this. among the performers and the audience there exists an implicit common sense to calling the abridged version the “official version” and showing it to officials, while calling the original version “the rehersal version” and showing it to everyone else.

i haven’t thought enough about this to hypothesize what the cultural logic of one open eye might be, but in terms of practice, the open eye falls somewhere between “managing/ overseeing (管)” and ignoring (不理). indeed, one of the cultural compentencies of successful shenzheners is know which activities will be strictly regulated, which ignored, and which of those can exist in the hazy space between.

theatre is one of the spaces where there is more room for winking; newspapers and television programs are much more strictly regulated than (in order of increasingly lax regulation) radio stations, novels, and theatre, especially in the context of a university performance, which is not open to the public (except by word of mouth invitations). in other words, the more popular a cultural medium is, the less likely for officials to walk past with one eye closed.

more thoughts on education


at the park

Originally uploaded by maryannodonnell

the question of what to believe is is troubling and profound, even in cities like shenzhen, notwithstanding all this capitalism with chinese characteristics. some days it feels like people only say they want to make money because that is what they think they’re expected to say. at heart, i sense that people are making money and how far they are willing to go to make that money (because yes, questions of ideology are also questions of belief) is tied up in reworked versions of what constitutes a “household (家)”. indeed, neotraditionalism and neoconfucianism are profoundly shaping (what i am told is the most feudal of chinese institutions) – early childhood education.

a few years ago a friend of mine gave me a copy of the “three character jing (三字经), a text that chinese children used to memorize as part of a traditional education. my friend told me that after her son had memorized the three character jing, he had become a better student, more filial, and overall a more considerate human being. she concluded that traditional education educated the entire person, whereas modern education was necessary, but incomplete.

i am also aware of a strong impulse toward home-schooling among many people my age. many had their children memorizing chinese classics and indeed, i bought my own recitation copy of the “book of changes”. the set came with pinyin, simplified and standard versions of the text in addition to cds of a man and girl reciting the text. the many who sold me this set told me that when children recited the classics their voices became clearer and more beautiful.

recently, the push toward remaking the self through the classics seems both stronger and more popular – in all senses of the word. a new favorite text is the “standards for being a good student and child (弟子规)”. meanwhile, an administrative assistant has left her job to take her three-year old daughter to a mother-child camp, where she will learn how to teach her daughter the classics.

it is worth noting that although students had been memorizing tang poems as part of their elementary education, the new push for “three characters” and “standards” is (a) part of grassroots pre-school training; (b) involves a moral impulse that combines education with obedience; and (c) is re-coding shenzhen’s nuclear families in confucian terms.

so i am learning to listen to chinese debates about education, debates which frankly did not interest me when i thought of them as being merely about how the gaokao (高考) has ruined the possibility of true learning. in fact, the closer we get to the june test dates, the more incessant and shrill these debates become and the lower my tolerance for parents who say, “but we had no choice [except to force our child to study ten hours a day and give up their dreams of being an artist]”. however, as i have learned to hear how questions about what and how to believe inform these debates, i have become more interested in and yes, more sympathetic to the chinese obsession with education.

there are, after all, many ways of trying to become human.

tangtou, baishizhou

 

tangtou old housing, new village

Baishizhou has the distinction of being Shenzhen’s “city that isn’t a city, village that isn’t a village (城不城,村不村).”

The first stop (bus or subway) after Windows of the World themepark, Baishizhou has come to refer to a 7.5 sq km sprawl of handshake buildings that was originally part of the “Shahe Overseas Farm (沙河华侨农场)”. This highly congested and irregularly built area is also the first stop for many new migrants to Shenzhen because of its central location, convenience, and lowest of the low priced housing.

Inquiring minds ask, “How did (one of) Shenzhen’s most beautifully landscaped high end residential, tourist and arts area (OCT) end up next to what is acknowledged to be one of the city’s largest slums?” Continue reading

futures – yuanling 2


jijian kindergarten

Originally uploaded by maryannodonnell

even as yuanling’s factories are upgraded to retail storefronts, the old neighborhoods – especially the old courtyard residential areas – are being razed to make way for highrise developments.

watching the chickens feed in the courtyard of new yuanling village remind us (1) that shenzhen was imagined and built in a very different social economy and (2) that value is not simply a matter of upgrades, but nevertheless remains tied to how we imagine the future.

new yuanling village is not an actual village, but an example of the first generation of work unit courtyard residences in shenzhen. in the early 80s, homes here appear in some of the first corruption scandals as early cadres scrambled for homes, which they used as investments and rewards (in turn).

housing in yuanling is still some of the most expensive in the city because with each home comes one elementary and one middle school seat (学位). this is important because yuanling schools are ranked first provincial (省一级), a ranking that suggests students from yuanling do well in the national college entrance exam (高考).

although much of the old housing is rented out, those school seats are coveted and circulate not only with the sale of the house, but part of rental negotiations. not unexpectedly, many have bought in yuanling, but live elsewhere, simply so their children can go to school there.

in addition, the area has been approved for redevelopment, which means that within the next two years, all this will be razed and new housing built. homeowners in yuanling will be compensated with replacement housing (based on square footage conversions, but i’m not sure what precisely the terms are.)

housing and education are two of the great goods in shenzhen. indeed, many women will not marry unless they have a home; many parents spend time, energy, and money trying to provide for their child’s education. consequently, it is useful to think about what new yuanling village signified to early shenzhen residents because housing and education are sites where we actively and vigorously create the future.

yuanling looks battered and worn, but the shenzhen dreams of a house and providing for one’s only child still resonate. moreover, the importance of this future to shenzhen identity explains how corruption may have been built into the city. it is hard to imagine how communist cadres may have been reduced to scrambling for moldy bits of concrete and in retrospect, the object of their scrambling appears ridiculous. however, it is more than easy to understand how private hopes and dreams for their families’ future might have gotten entangled in what those cadres saw when they drew up blueprints, laid foundations, and built a post-mao, post cold war future at yuanling.

when i asked if there were any other benefits to buying a house in yuanling, the salesman looked at me somewhat confused – after all, is there anything more important than a new house (even if many years down the road) and a child’s education? – and offered lamely, “you could open a ground floor store.”

i like yuanling in its current incarnation. the streets are narrow, quiet, and clean, the buildings shaded by banyan trees, and the occasional palm tree straggles into the sky above working class residents. pictures, here.