Chinese Reaction to Liu Xiaobo’s Nobel Prize

I asked several Tsinghua students what they thought about Liu Xiaobo, the imprisoned Chinese dissident, winning the Nobel Peace Prize. There was a wide range of answers:

1. “It’s a sensitive subject,” said one student. And said no more.

2. “The Nobel Prize always seems to involve China,” said another student. Maybe she meant the Peace Prize in 1989 to the Dalai Lama and the more recent Literature prize to Gao Xingjian, but I’m not sure. Politely changing the subject.

3. “I don’t know much about what he stands for,” said another student (a freshman).

4. “Now is not the right time for his ideas. They would interfere with economic progress,” said a student who is a member of the Communist Party.

5. “Many people say because the European economy is bad, they gave the prize to someone who will never collect the money [because he’s imprisoned],” said another student. She added that receiving the prize will be bad for Liu. Because it was “a great shame for China” (meaning the government), they will increase his prison sentence.

Chinese Text-Message Censorship

An American friend wondered about Chinese reaction to Liu Xiaobo winning the Nobel Peace Prize. So I sent a text message to four Chinese friends: “Did u know chinese dissident won nobel peace prize?”

Six hours later I hadn’t received any replies. I phoned one of them. She hadn’t received my message. I saw it hadn’t gone through: “Unable to send message”. I tried again. Failed again. Then I tried to send “did u know chinese dissident won prize?” Success. I tried the earlier message, with “nobel peace prize”. Fail. Tried the shorter message. Success.

Messages almost never fail, so it was clearly censorship. One of my friends said the same about messages in Chinese: “We can’t send email or text messages” about it. She had heard about the prize from her classmates. She didn’t know how they had learned about it. Another Chinese friend read it on a website. Later it was gone.

I thought of the boy who cried wolf. One day there was a wolf. But no one believed him.

Research Fraud in China

From the New York Times:

Last December, a British journal that specializes in crystal formations announced that it was withdrawing more than 70 papers by Chinese authors whose research was of questionable originality or rigor. . . . “Even fake papers count because nobody actually reads them,” said Mr. Fang, who is more widely known by his pen name, Fang Zhouzi, and whose Web site, New Threads, has exposed more than 900 instances of fakery, some involving university presidents and nationally lionized researchers.

Recently a Tsinghua colleague asked me to fix the English in his paper. Most paragraphs required a few changes every sentence but here and there were whole paragraphs with no mistakes. Presumably he copied them from somewhere else. The material in them was boring — it was like copying from the phone book — so it was hard to care (he wasn’t taking credit for anyone else’s ideas) but I wonder if he realized how obvious it was. I don’t mean this is typical. I have looked at several other papers by Chinese authors and found no patches of perfect English.

The article begins with a false claim by a Chinese doctor — and of course these are truly damaging. In my experience, false claims by American doctors are common. An example is my surgeon recommending an operation that, she said, evidence showed would benefit me. There was no such evidence. One value of self-experimentation is that you can find out if a medicine works, rather than take your doctor’s word for it. I became impressed with self-experimentation when it showed me that an acne medicine (tetracycline, an antibiotic) my dermatologist had prescribed didn’t work. Not at all. He didn’t express any doubts when he prescribed it. Call it forensic DNA testing (e.g., The Innocence Project) for the rest of us.

Perhaps the Chinese people, faced with even more false claims than Americans, can benefit even more from self-experimentation.

Thanks to Tim Beneke.

New Idea About Learning Chinese

 I never considered taking a class to learn Chinese. Too boring, too time-consuming. I’ve tried hiring tutors and going through a textbook. Better but too close to taking a class. That didn’t last.

For maybe half a year I’ve used Anki (a flashcard program) to learn characters. This is better — at least it’s lasted half a year — but I don’t study it often enough.

A friend suggested labeling things in my apartment — put a card with the character for chair on a chair, for example. Another friend pointed out that there are children’s books with big characters (one per page). That suggested my latest idea: Put these pages on the walls of my apartment. So whenever I look at the wall it will be a kind of test. If I don’t remember the character, I can look on the underside of the card for the answer.

I’m excited about this: it might actually work, I now think. It doesn’t require being still, which I think reduces learning. It spaces learning (you learn in little bits throughout the day), which is surely better than massing it. It allows great amounts of repetition. And it takes advantage of natural curiosity (whenever I see Chinese — in a sign, for example — I wonder what it means) rather than requiring discipline. As far as I can tell it requires no discipline at all. If it doesn’t work I’ll learn something about education.

First Day of Class

Today was my first day of class at Tsinghua. I am teaching a seminar called Frontiers of Psychology. There was only time for about half of the 40-odd students to identify themselves, which included saying their favorite book. Three girls said their favorite book is Pride and Prejudice. Two said The Little Prince. One said Harry Potter. One said Rebecca by Daphne Du Marier (published 1938). One boy said he didn’t have a favorite book — reading books was a waste of time. One boy said his favorite book is Ulysses.

Most of them, perhaps 80%, chose a non-Chinese book as their favorite. One French, two German, the rest English (which they may have read in Chinese translation). At first I was surprised but then I realized it made sense. Chinese civilization was more advanced than European civilization for a long time but when Gutenberg invented the Western version of the printing press everything changed. In Europe, unlike China, books became cheap and literacy spread. With literacy came a book industry. A large number of Europeans have been reading books for 500 years. In contrast, the Chinese language, with thousands of characters (in contrast to 26 lower-case and 26 upper-case letters) made printing difficult. With reading material rare, so was literacy.

Beijing Students at Berkeley

In downtown Berkeley I met a group of Chinese students from Beijing. They were entering freshmen at UC Berkeley.

They said there were 40 students like them — from Beijing, entering UC Berkeley. (At Tsinghua, there will be 400 entering freshmen from Beijing.) In all of China, 13 students were admitted to Harvard, about the same number to Yale and Princeton. One of them said she’d wanted to go to Northwestern but hadn’t gotten in. Had she gone to college in China, she might have gone to Renmin University, perhaps the #3 university in China.

Surely their parents were wealthy, yes. But they preferred an American college to a Chinese one for two main reasons: 1. They can choose whatever major they want. At Chinese universities students are often forced into a major they don’t want if their scores are high enough to get into a prestigious university but not high enough to get into the major they want at that university. 2. They believe that if they graduate from an American university they will have more opportunities. Where did they get the idea of coming to Berkeley? I asked. Online, they said. Their English was really good.

The “more opportunities” may not be as simple as they think. In Beijing I know a Chinese businesswoman who hired a recent college graduate. She’d gone to college in England, indicating that her parents were wealthy. The new worker turned out to be irresponsible and had to be fired. Perhaps her parents had spoiled her. In this businesswoman’s eyes, an overseas education may now be a negative.

Pork Belly News

I am a big fan of pork belly. Whenever I see it on a menu I order it. The mayor of Chongqing (population 32 million) recently made headlines with a speech whose main point was

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Which means: Better living standards is not just eating hong shao rou wearing beautiful clothes. Hong shao rou is pork belly braised in a red sauce. Maybe my favorite Chinese dish. Supposedly Chairman Mao’s favorite dish. I’m glad he said “not just” rather than “not”.

Learning From Mulan

You may have seen the lovely Disney movie based on the story of Mulan, the girl who dresses as a boy to take her father’s place in the army. Even better is the original story, which is only 300-odd ancient Chinese characters. It begins like this:

Mulan was weaving. She was having trouble concentrating on her work. The previous night she had learned that her elderly father had been called to military service.

What a great beginning! Instantly you care. You could read every short story The New Yorker has published and not find a beginning as great as that. The essence of how a story should begin is so strong it reminds me of something that happened when I was a grad student. My roommates had cooked something with a lot of ginger. So that’s what ginger tastes like, I thought. I understood for the first time why ginger ale was called ginger ale.

Assorted Links

Thanks to Alex Chernavsky.

Chinese Mystery Explained: Humorous Names

Describing my first day of teaching at Tsinghua, I wrote:

The students did brief introductions. Many students appeared to think that one student’s Chinese name was humorous. This was briefly explained to me but I still have trouble believing it.

I don’t remember the brief explanation. At the time I didn’t know that my Chinese name sounds exactly like the word for eggplant, which has different characters. As the Tsinghua story suggests, this isn’t rare. I met a girl whose name sounds the same as China’s ruler. (Different characters, of course.) Anyway, it seems a blessing that my name has a humorous side and perhaps that’s what the parents in this case were thinking.