Back in 1485...

Assigning my classes weekly journals was a bit quixotic on my part. Many of them tended to be quite boring, usually because they all would write more or less the same paper, just with enough variation to avoid plagiarism (though there was plenty of that). However, this had the unexpected benefit of revealing some interesting patterns and trends amongst my students which gave me some insight into Chinese culture. For example, every one of my students has a humorous father. Either that or "humorous" is the only adjective they could mutually come up with to describe their fathers. Also, many of my girls have grandmothers who resent them simply for being girls and not boys--definitely a real prejudice that still exists.

However, one assignment was especially revealing. I asked them: If they could go back to any point in time, and change one thing, what would they change and why? Many wanted to go back to middle school and high school so they could study harder and not go to such a bad college. Some regretted losing contact with a good friend or being such a poor son or daughter.

But what I had really been hoping for was a social-or politically-related topic, and I got it in the form of a nostalgia for ancient times. Quite a few of my students wanted to go back to one of China's most prosperous dynasties, either Han, Tang, or Ming, and prevent their nations inevitable decline. Many envisioned themselves as an important philosopher or leader who could keep the Chinese state and culture strong in the face of the internal turmoil and outside invaders which ultimately ended the Chinese Golden Age and began a period of stagnation and decline.

I had not expected such an intense case of Vergangenheitsbewaltigung (coming to terms with the past) when I came to China, but it makes absolute sense. Today China is developing at a break-neck pace: expanding cities, damming the Yangtze, and relocating millions to "develop" its remote western provinces. Prosperity is China's gospel, and after reading my student's journals, it finally became obvious why: This is a country obsessed with catching up.

At the beginning of the first millenium, the Mongols conquered China and set-up the Yuan dynasty, beginning a time of foreign rule. In the 14th century some peasants revolted against the weakened Khanate and thus began the great Ming period. But this didn't last long until the Manchus invaded in the 17th century. Then came the Europeans, then the Japanese, and then there was a civil war...you get the picture. China hasn't had much time to develop as a sovereign country and for several centuries had to watch the world pass by while it was exploited by foreigners and ravaged by war. So you can imagine why, after 1949, the communists came up with all these grand, but catastrophic, plans to turn China into a modern state. Fifty-million deaths later the dust has settle and they are finally starting to get the hang of it at an alarming pace.

So, whenever I look out my window and gaze upon the ever-expanding concrete wasteland of towers and roads, and wonder who the heck could possibly find beaty in such a scene, I tell myself that they are racing to get back to the head of the pack after getting stuck in the past. That is no small task with 1.3 billion people, many of whom are uneducated. Things must be done expediently and efficiently. The environment, cultural, relics, traditions, etc. must bow down before progress.

But I wonder, doesn't this defeat the purpose? Everywhere, on television, in movies, and in my student's journals I see a longing for former glory. But when I look outside I do not see the rich, colorful Ming--I see a bad copy of western modernization. I see cheap, grey buildings, tacky flashing neon signs, and factories churning out America's consumer goods. I see cultural relics destroyed and traditions lost. What is the point in reclaiming a legacy when you destroy the legacy to do so? I think the Chinese are starting to realize this, but I hope it isn't to late. Oh, how I wish I could go back to the Ming.

Leb Wohl