Zhongnanhai

If this is the best that we can expect from Democratic contenders for President, it will be a boring campaign season for China-watchers.  China has only come up fleetingly so far in the Democratic debates, but Senator and leading Democratic nominee Barack Obama finally discussed China’s military buildup and relations with Taiwan in a speech given on the Senate floor.  But what he said was hardly shocking.

He talked about China’s "peaceful rise", called for more military transparency, and a continuation of the status-quo in cross-strait relations.  Is China too sensitive a topic for presidential contenders to tackle?  It seems so.

Obama’s comments, and the full story, can be found here. 

After much reflection on this question, I’ve come to the conclusion that….. I don’t know.  My good friend Tim Stoney, a former reporter with the Australian Broadcasting Corporation, believes that Asian culture and democracy just don’t mix.  He claims that Asians, by their very nature, are adverse to change, and don’t like the see-saw back-and-forth scheming that makes democracies so vibrant.  I’m paraphrasing, but he says Asians (and this is a vast, vast generalization, something I normally try and refrain from doing) prefer to know who the government will be, and what the policies will be, 10 or 15 years from now.  That allows proper planning.

Perhaps my friend is on to something, or perhaps it’s hogwash, as the democracies in Taiwan (Province!) and South Korea can attest.  Whatever, below is a column I wrote on this subject after a recent trip to Bangkok.  (Yes, honest, I was there to write hard journalism stories!!!).

Desire for order trumps democracy; Thais’ contentment with military coup points to Asia’s different values
Published: Sunday May 13
Times Colonist 

The Chinese propaganda machine is very effective. Ask anyone in China about democracy and they will reel off reasons why now is not the right time.

"China isn’t developed enough yet." "Chinese people aren’t educated enough." "China needs stability first." The list goes on.

Decent reasons really, but not for most of us in the West. We’re accustomed to believing that democracy is the only way. Challenging that belief is tough, but it’s necessary.

And Thailand offers a good example of a country where democracy has gone horribly wrong.

Western governments and media outlets were quick to denounce the overthrow of a democratically elected prime minister in a bloodless military coup last year. Thaksin Shinawatra was fresh off an election victory, his second landslide majority.

But while images of tanks in the streets of Bangkok were enough to make CNN headlines, the reasons behind the coup — and the feelings of the Thais — were often left unreported.

"I hope he never returns," a Thai taxi driver told me en route to Bangkok’s sparkling new Suvarnabhumi Airport last week. "If he does, somebody will kill him."

Thaksin, who has been ordered to stay away from Thailand by the military, is not well-liked in the country’s urban areas. His election victories and popularity were owed to the rural areas which didn’t see firsthand the level of corruption in his government.

"Look at that," the taxi driver said, waving a finger towards a giant, concrete rapid-transit line along the highway. "What a waste." The multi-billion-dollar line was intended to connect downtown Bangkok with its new airport. But now it sits there, unfinished.

You don’t have to go far to see other evidence of waste and mismanagement. Thaksin rushed the new $4.5-billion Suvarnabhumi Airport to completion. After only months in operation, complaints about construction quality, crumbling runways, overcrowding and an embarrassing lack of bathrooms have forced the military junta to re-open the old Don Muang Airport.

Thais say his real sins go much deeper. Thaksin is accused of perverting democracy to centralize power and limit dissent, creating an authoritarian regime with him at its centre.

And questions are mounting about his sale of communications giant Shin Corp., controlled by his family, to a Singapore government agency. The deal earned his family $2.1 billion — tax-free.

All that helps explain why, when the military decided something had to be done, the country’s revered King Bhumibol Adulyadej gave his blessing.

Most Thais told me that life carries on as it did before. They are happy to know the circus atmosphere surrounding Thaksin is gone and the government is now "much less prominent," according to the driver.

While the military regime has promised the return of democracy and a new constitution, they have cracked down on the media in the meantime. The government blocked the YouTube website for showing a video of King Bhumibol next to images of feet. The king is regarded as semi-divine and generally loved, while feet are considered offensive. It has also blocked websites and broadcast reports about the deposed prime minister.

But despite the erosion of a free press, the Thais seem to be taking everything in stride — just as the Chinese do.

One of my friends from Australia once told me that democracy doesn’t fit easily with Asian culture. I argued about the importance of freedom of speech, human rights and all the other ideals we are raised with in the West.

But the longer I’ve remained in Asia, the more I’m gaining perspective on his point of view. Here, the value of stability trumps democracy.

Asian people generally respect authority and their elders. The Western ideas of activism, questioning authority and individuality are as foreign to Asian cultures as authoritarian regimes have become to Europeans and their descendants. Asia has very few truly democratic countries and even those that can hardly be called democracies by Western standards.

Japan’s Liberal Democratic Party has been solidly in power for half a century, except for a short-lived opposition coalition government in 1993. Singapore is an apparent democracy, but it has been run by Lee Kuan Yew, his son, and their People’s Action Party since it gained independence in 1959. Malaysia has been run by a single multi-party coalition since the 1950s and Indonesia is unstable at best.

Taiwan and South Korea could turn out to be success stories, but both are too young to be judged. And Taiwan’s chaotic, fight-filled legislature is often cited as proof that China doesn’t need that "immature" form of government.

India might be a bright light, but its cumbersome democratic system is often blamed for its failure to match China’s rapid economic growth.

"We have to sacrifice for the good of the whole," a close Chinese friend once told me. She was referring to the bloody crackdown on Tiananmen Square protesters back in 1989 and explaining how many Chinese believe the students who died that June were paying the price for their country’s success today.

Many Thais see their military coup in the same light, except this time the sacrifice was democracy.

There are splinter groups calling for the right to vote in Thailand and China.

But there is no massive underground network advocating democracy, no widespread support and no large-scale threats to the two governments.

Even without democracy, everything seems to be working just fine.

Sorry… perhaps I should say the "Democratic People’s Republic of Korea", as we’re forced to do in Chinese state-run media. (Likewise, South Korea is the ROK.)

Richard Spencer, who also writes a wonderful blog, has an article in today’s Daily Telegraph about North Korea’s test firing a series of short-range missiles into the Sea of Japan. It’s not the first time North Korea has been rattling its sabres, of course. After repeated warnings from Washington to suspend development of a nuclear weapon, North Korea (oops… DPRK!) went ahead and built one anyway.  Then after promises of "grave consequences" if North Korea went ahead with a nuclear test, it did it anyway.  Now this, from Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe:

"We have been saying that our patience has come to its limit."

He also warned of a response if North Korea did not begin dismantling the nuclear reactor soon.

Hmm… "warned" of a "response".  You mean, like Japan did prior to the completion of the weapons program?  Like it did prior to the nuclear test?  And what exactly is the response? Pyongyang has been calling Japan and America’s bluff for a while now.

I can’t help but feel a bit sorry for North Korea.  It’s a basket-case regime that is crying out for attention — any kind of attention. It presses ahead with a nuclear weapons program despite warnings, then tests a weapon despite warnings, then goes ahead and fires missles into the Sea of Japan.  Still, the most the established powers can come up with as a "response" is their "patience has come to its limit."  In fact, if the Six Party Agreement comes into effect, Kim Jong Il can probably credit his nuclear program with fending off the United States.

Kim’s regime must figure the western establishment is pretty spineless.  Nothing but empty warnings, rhetoric, and threats. The best way to handle North Korea may be to just forget about it, because it’s highly unlikely Kim, the head of a poverty-ridden country, will do anything (like send missiles into downtown Seoul or Tokyo) to destabilize his hold on power. And I think the US has isolated the DPRK enough to keep tabs on any possible weapons or technology that Kim may try and send to other rogue regimes.

Scott Feschuk is a humerous Canadian writer, and has two short blurbs on North Korea here and here.  They are a bit dated, but still worth checking out. 

Three weeks ago the That’s Beijing weekly newsletter linked to an article about love being found in Poacher’s.  I was stunned to see it there, because it was an article I had written a few days earlier for the Victoria Times Colonist. It said:

This article about true love being found in Poachers appealed to the romantic in us.

I’ve no idea how they found the column, and the link takes readers to a pay site where you can’t even read it.  So, if anyone is actually interested in reading it, I have posted it below in its entirety.  Enjoy!

Finding love in a backstreet Beijing bar
Published:  Sunday April 29, 2007

     One of the places I’ll remember in Beijing most is a bar called Poacher’s.  When I moved to China I was a fearless 25 year old, and my other Canadian friends and I spent more than a few nights in this timeless Beijing establishment.

      Poacher’s, way back in 2004 (which is an eternity in China) used to be down a back alley off the main bar street.  If you didn’t know it was there, you could’ve never found it.  First a left, then a right at the lamb-skewer stand, and then walk a few more meters past old Chinese buildings and some fake DVD shops.  You’d know it, because the thumping of American Top 40 songs could be heard throughout the back lanes.

      Like many bars in Asia, a mix of young North Americans, Europeans, and Australians mingle with the dozens of pretty Asian girls.  When drinking, dancing, and loud music get thrown in, it can be more than a lively night on the town.

      What made Poacher’s stand out more than other bars was its atmosphere – a run down warehouse hidden among the historic hutongs, or traditional courtyard houses, in Beijing. I always found it fascinating to listen to the latest tunes pulled straight from American radio in a bar in Beijing, where a majority of the people inside couldn’t even understand the lyrics.

      One of my favorite perches was from a little balcony to the left of the stage, where sometimes we’d dance and survey the scene.  Down below was an older fellow, perhaps in his 60s, pouring gin and tonics and $1.75 pints of Tsingdao.  To this day, I’ve always wanted to talk to him. As an older fellow, he lived through the Cultural Revolution, one of the darkest moments in Chinese history, as well as the Great Leap Forward and other trying times.  He still works hard, earning a living selling drinks to young women in scantily clad outfits surrounded by drunken foreigners, something unthinkable in Mao’s day.

       Then there were the regulars.  One of the young women was named Liane (pronounced “Lianna”) who was clearly available to whoever wanted to be with her.  I talked with her a few times, and while our conversations never ventured into Chinese economics or military strategy, she was still quite lovely.  She was only 22 years old at the time and very pretty, and fits into a stereotype that is slowly becoming obsolete as China becomes more prosperous: the girl who is just looking for a passport.

      Of course, I’ll never forget New Years Eve 2004, when the cover charge was an astounding $15. In Beijing, where lineups and cover charges are as foreign as people practicing Falun Gong, this left us quite indignant.  But we came around when we were told that cover included an entire bottle of wine – one each – for every person in our party.  We had 12 people that night, and with 12 bottles of wine at our table, that $15 proved to be the cheapest New Years I’d ever had.

      But there is one night in particular that I will always remember.  I brought a couple of friends to meet up with some colleagues from China Central Television late one Saturday.  I was inside dancing while my good friend Trevor Metz, who used to work in media in Kamloops and Price George, was chatting with a young woman he had just met outside.  I know Trevor had partaken in a few too many Tsingdaos that night, and when he came inside he slipped on the floor and fell directly on his face, as though a bookshelf had just tipped over with a big thud upon hitting the ground.  As crowds stood laughing at him, he got up and continued inside the bar, probably too drunk to realize he had just served as everyone’s comic relief.

      His biggest fear at that moment, he told me later, was that the girl, Jingjing, had seen what happened.  Luckily for him, she hadn’t.

      Trevor and I visited that bar on many Friday and Saturday nights, along with several other friends from Canada.  It was a chance to share stories, funny moments, laughs, and relish in our experiences. In the back of our minds, we knew that when our contracts were up, we would return to our regular responsibilities in Vancouver, Victoria, Prince George, or wherever else we were from.  China was supposed to be a one-year adventure, not a whole new beginning. But life rarely goes as planned.

      Nobody knows this better than Trevor Metz.  Today, Trevor will celebrate his wedding to Jingjing in her hometown, a small city in central China. “We have a very happy life together and I never dreamed I would end up with someone so wonderful, kind, caring, understanding, beautiful, and fun as her. She is perfect in my eyes,” he said.

      It doesn’t matter where you find love, as long as you find it somewhere.  And for Trevor, he found it far away in China. 

      In a fun little bar called Poacher’s.

I almost hate bringing this up, because it’s such a cliched question.  But while most people debate it in the confines of a bar over a nice frosty mug of Tsingdao, I’m facing the reality of it.

Let me explain.

I lived in Beijing for nearly two years, made great contacts in the city, and my girlfriend and most of my friends live there.  When a management job opened with Guangzhou Television a year ago, a job that included on-air hosting and input into content, it was too good to pass up (the salary helped a lot, too). Likewise, after a year in Guangzhou, a job opened in Shanghai that was also too good to pass up.  A chance to build an English-language portal website at Jongo.com. I got my hands dirty, hired some staff, brought some columnists on board, and the product began to improve.  Then "Black Monday" came, and we were all let go as the UK investors decided to focus on another project.

The goal has always been to study Mandarin.  I’ve always felt that media, journalism, communications, and PR experience combined with strong Putonghua can open a lot of doors.  I’ve kept putting study off because promising jobs keep popping up.  But now that Jongo has gone bankrupt, perhaps now’s the time.  But where?

I’m based in Shanghai.  I have a beautiful apartment.  I’m making some friends down here.  And say what you will about Shanghai, you Beijingers, it’s a beautiful city.  There’s no doubt in my mind that Shanghai is the nicer, more livable city of the two. And for whatever reason, traffic isn’t even as bad down here! But here’s the catch: I like news, and I want to study Mandarin.  And the damn Olympics are an extra throrn in the proverbial side. Beijing wins on all three fronts.

So… pass up on Shanghai because of Beijing’s potential?  There’s no doubt the world is zeroing in on Beijing at the moment.  It’s the political center of the country, and, well, I love politics.  With the Olympics coming and the city’s top-grade schools, perhaps it’s the place to be.  But it will be awfully sad to say goodbye to Shanghai, a vibrant, compelling, modern mix of East and West. I’ve only been here three months. Far too short.

Making the decision a little more difficult is a job offer I just received from Interfax China, based here in China’s largest city. It comes complete with a foreign journalists visa, which is highly coveted. But I think I’ve put off studying for too long. And, as many people tell me, those jobs should be available later.

What do you think? 

Ahh… I’ve finally entered the world of real, live bloggers.  I must say, there are a lot of excellent blogs about China out there, so why do we need another?  I mean, for history, Jottings from the Granite Studio is second to none.  China Law Blog has excellent legal and business information.  Imagethief is one of the top "thinking" blogs that I make a point of checking daily.

This blog aims to be a bit of those blogs, with a heavy media and political bent.  I am a Canadian, and my background is in journalism.  I served for nearly four years a legislative reporter for News1130, Vancouver’s top all-news radio station.  I came to China in 2004 in search of adventure and a better resume, after being holed up in a government PR job for 18 months (a job which, after witnessing the mayhem and chaos in China, was quite good).

I’ve done a lot since moving here, like so many others have.  From judging drama competitions to clinking beer glasses with the Chief of the Beijing Public Security Bureau (ganbei!), the last 2.5 years have flown by so fast I can hardly make sense of it all.  

It began as a radio host with CRI, then an editor at CCTV 9, then a radio host at Beijing Radio, then a few months of Putonghua study at Tsinghua University, then an Executive Editor and host gig with Guangzhou’s English Channel, then the Senior Consultant of Jongo News in Shanghai.  Somewhere in there I managed to get a few articles published in the International Herald Tribune and the Washington Times, although it took a lot of bashing my head against the wall to get it done.  Those are my credentials, and that is my background in this fascinating country.

My main interest is politics, whether provincial, Canadian, American, or especially Chinese.  Like many bloggers and readers in China, I’ve read several books on China, and I hope to discuss them in this space. As many of us in the journalism community like to say, the lead-up to the Olympics should be rich with stories and conflict.  This is fertile land for a journalist.

The plan now, after being ruthlessly relieved of my duties at Jongo.com, along with 60 other diligent and talented staff, will be to return to Beijing and focus on Mandarin study.  (Yes, after luring me from Guangzhou, breaking my work contract, my apartment lease, and moving to Shanghai, the company lasted little more than two months.) But in between, I’ll be contributing to newspapers and posting articles and thoughts here.

Why does China need yet another blog? Perhaps it doesn’t.  But I’ll do my best to earn my little corner of China’s vast blogosphere. 

I hope you come back.