The Proustian Moments

Posted: 8th April 2022 by Jiang Helen in Flash Fiction

[This is a fictional piece.  Any similarity to actual persons or occurrences is purely coincidental.]

“And as soon as I had recognized the taste of the piece of madeleine soaked in her decoction of lime-blossom which my aunt used to give me (although I did not yet know and must long postpone the discovery of why this memory made me so happy) immediately the old grey house upon the street, where her room was, rose up like a stage set to attach itself to the little pavilion opening on to the garden which had been built out behind it for my parents (the isolated segment which until that moment had been all that I could see); and with the house the town, from morning to night and in all weathers, the Square where I used to be sent before lunch, the streets along which I used to run errands, the country roads we took when it was fine.”

Marcel Proust, À la Recherche du Temps Perdu 

One day I stepped outside my house and could not smell the earthy scent in the air after a hard overnight rain.  I sniffed repeatedly, gulped a lungful of cold air.  I walked to the small pond in the yard where water lilies grow.  I went to the coffee shop downstairs where I get my morning brew.  I finally went to my doctor.  My doctor said I was suffering from a condition called anosmia due to side effects of chemo and the damage may be permanent.  My doctor explained there is a bony little plate in our noses that connects to the olfactory bulb in our forebrain which receives input of odor detected by the plate and the chemo “sheared that plate off.”  

There is a Cinnabon next to the hospital.  Every time I passed by the place it reminded me of airports.  All airports are laced with Cinnabon’s distinctly rich, saccharine and crowd pleasing aroma.  Not me.  I never liked cinnamon. I swear to god I knew that smell when I was still a fetus in my mom’s womb.  I hate it because as far as I could remember my mom always made cinnamon rolls to stop herself from getting upset with my dad.   She said cinnamon smells like happiness.  I started to get what she meant when I arrived at La Guardia with my one-way ticket.  So I bought a cinnabon right there for old time’s sake.  But somehow it still tasted like sob stories. 

It’s 2pm already and I hadn’t had anything in my stomach.  Should I go for Mexican?  But I just had Mexican yesterday.  Jeez, what difference does it make.  I would be eating my illusions anyway.  I turned the corner and walked into a record store called “School.”  It is my refuge, my place of comfort.  I remember that strong scent of laminated cardboard and PVC the moment I opened the door.  I remember the fragrance of Roses De Chloe when Janice was with me in the record store.  Janice would eagerly flip through the “New Arrival” boxes, tucking the new finds under her arm, eyes shimmering with excitement.  The perfume came out of every pore of her body, travelled and moved in all directions, and eventually diffused in the air around me. 

I bought myself a Scream’s 1985 release of “This Side Up.”  I love looking at records spinning on my Technics SL-1210 — the way they spin hypnotizes me.  I saw a wisp of white smoke rising above the turntable.  Was it flying from between Janice’s lush and tender lips?  Or was it foggy steam that formed above Janice’s boiling hot earl grey?  It’s hard to tell because Janice would either have a cuppa or light up a joint while listening to records.  But first she would always put the tea bag or the pre-roll under her nose and inhale as hard as she could and then look up at me with a grin.

I popped into my bar.  It’s my bar because I spend way more semi-waking hours here than I am willing to admit and righteously blame my job for cutting into my drinking time.  Adam the barkeep would pour me a Tullamore Dew and agree with me the world is fucked up and we are all fucked.  I find a sense of home in these air particles carrying a mixture of odors: malt, hops, leather, sweat from regulars’ armpits with a dash of desperation and midlife crisis.  I brought Janice here once.  She said she loved it here but she needed to split because it was the opening night of a club across town and she needed to support her friend who was DJ-ing and she promised to come here with me again and drink ourselves silly and go home and make love and she could not wait for it though it never happened.  I downed my fifth whiskey.  A kid in a Sex Pistols tee came up to me and whispered do you have the stuff.  He told me his girlfriend was experiencing a massive writer’s block for her songs and the stuff could keep her focused.  In the middle of the bar a twenty-something was laughing loudly with his mate and they were both chatting up a girl.  I saw them leaving together and having sloppy threesome in a shabby flat in the rundown part of the town while the roommate was listening on the other side of the wall.  At the end of the bar a guy in his late thirtieth was drinking alone.  He said he was diagnosed with cancer today and was not even sad and his girlfriend told him she felt trapped and could not live with him any more but she would always love him and miss him.  I tried to make out their faces in dim light.  They looked just like me.  The girl was wearing Roses De Chloe like Janice.  I felt like losing control.  I should go home.  

I shouldn’t be sulking.  It is a blessing in disguise that I can no longer smell.  No unpleasant odor can upset me now.  Neither can Roses De Chloe or earl grey or weed or cinnamon.  I can conjure up memories of these scents if I want to.  I can conjure up scents of these memories if I want to.  I can soliloquize about them at length and again and again to keep them fresh if I want to, even if their significance is diminished in the telling.

This Too Shall Pass

Posted: 2nd March 2022 by Jiang Helen in Flash Fiction

[This is a fictional piece.  Any similarity to actual persons or occurrences is purely coincidental.]

Early morning a colleague of mine who is in his 50s and is not my friend (a superior) sent me an email: please call me when you get a minute. I was slightly surprised and couldn’t stop wondering whether I was in trouble. I rang him right away. “How are you?” I asked. “Not well, Helen, I am not well. This is perhaps one of the worst days of my life.”

I was startled at this level of candidness between colleagues and the daring approach of articulating personal troubles at workplace. “Something wrong with my dog … the vet said he got heart cancer.” I began to understand where this transparency came from: he just showed me pictures and a video of his dog yesterday. It was a slo-mo video of the dog trying to shake off water on his back. Did I mention it also comes with mellow and sweet BGM? He said, the dog is old, and the dog stopped jumping around last night and he had to take the dog to the vet. That was when he knew things are not well with the dog. If something happened to the dog, he said, he would not be able to take it.

I did not know how to respond except with unnatural and reactive condolences. His unconcealed woefulness kind of put me on the spot. It was silence on the other end of the phone. And then there was some soft sobbing. I panicked, and ended up telling him I could relate because my family cat died a few years ago. Right after I said it, I hit myself on the head – how the fuck will this story help? And why the fuck did you start talking about dying?! I panicked. The silence was killing me. Finally after a long period of sighs and silence, we started to talk about the new project. I was mortified. I was engaging in this work-related conversation half-heartedly. I could not help re-running the conversation over and over in my head. I could not stop thinking about my cat, about my mentioning of death, about his sobbing. The only silver lining was we were not having this conversation face to face. Funny, that conversation was not even about me. While I felt sorry for the dog, and the man, I was mentally torturing myself over something entirely unrelated to me.

He did not reply my follow-up emails asking for his comments on the project. I was certain he was drowning in his sorriness.

***

I have been feeling paralyzed lately, to the extent that I could not get out of bed. This is not the first time I felt this way. The feeling of despair and hollowness of living is chronic; it is there when I am drinking the night away with friends; it is there when I suddenly wake up in the middle of the night stressing about possible missing deadlines. This level of aloneness is self-inflicted, but also inevitable: when I felt like hanging out with friends, I always ended up feeling more alone than ever. So I stopped trying to find someone to go to places. It is just the way to be. To a certain degree it is a self-fulfilled prophecy: having carried with me this conviction for decades, I do not have anyone, and I find it completely normal and not out of character to not have anyone. People I hang out with do not know me. People who know me for who I really am are not around.

I think about my childhood friends who are now scattered all over the world. We used to have a gang in high school. We squandered our summer and winter vacations away by playing mahjong and poker and video games, by making up and spreading rumors about people at the school, by wandering randomly in the streets, by drinking cheap canned beers while making banters and joshing each other. They were used to be a phone call away. All of them. There was no such thing as sadness because being in the gang was the ultimate cure. Twenty years later, Georgina got married and has a kid. Zander joined the army and fast tracked his immigration status in another country. Elliot moved to a small town in Europe and also got married. Mac is the only person I am still in touch with though he lives 8,000 miles away from where I am. I always felt we are the same person. I can always know exactly what he is talking about and vice versa. He is the second depressing person I know. We are on agreement that living is a prolonged process of getting to death where we are tortured in various ways with the illusion that meaning of living can be found. A month ago, he texted me that he was touched by the tiniest kindness which rekindled his faith in humanity. He said, if we were growing up with such kindness around us, would we have turned out differently? You know, he continued, some people in the world are kind to you simply because they choose to be kind, and it has nothing to do with you. I don’t know how to respond. But I am happy for his recent encounter. In my experience, people are kind to me when they want things from me. This realization always holds water; at least it started to make sense after the gang dissipated and everyone in the gang had to grow up.

***

I cannot be alone this evening. I need to get out and go to a place full of people and white noise and chatters and laughters. I unlocked my phone and started to check recent text messages to see if anyone can join me. Those first names and the meaningless convos associated therewith are jarring. So are the blurry faces in my mind to whom these names belong. I was again mortified. And again, I stared to think about the dog. The sobbing. The silence. Oh god. I rushed out in the streets and stared to walk randomly in the neighborhood. Oh god. I started to think. I have Don Draper’s worst fear: I never did anything, and I don’t have anyone. I hate myself and I wanna die.

I deserve this. I failed to invest in my friends. Friendships easy to maintain are cheap, and are equally easy to break up. Like those first names stored in my phone – easily forgettable; already forgotten. One time a good friend in college wrote me letters and confided in me his depression and anxiety. I did not write him back. I did not have time. Yes, I was on my way to get to the best art school in the world and achieve my “goals” and could not afford to be influenced by any negativity. He moved to the west coast a few years later. Last time we chatted, he got better. I do not feel what he felt back then until now. I am just catching up. What an irony – now I get to experience his helplessness. And now I have no one to lift me up. I started to think about the recent mishap at home — my brother’s terminal illness — and the fact that I cannot be around for the only handful of people I actually care about because of practical difficulties. Right, how convenient. I cannot be there for the people I know will always be there for me. Soon enough, they may not be able to be there for me any more.

It was almost midnight. There was a ding on my phone. The colleague finally replied, and the email could not be shorter, “Tomorrow morning.” I knew for a fact that the dog had died.

Not My Time to Die

Posted: 8th February 2022 by Jiang Helen in Dazed and Confused

First time stepped into an underground hardcore scene in New York City.  I was not prepared.  The lineup comprised four metal/hardcore bands.  The entire show lasted for almost four hours.  It was a total catharsis.  There was so much moshing and jumping around and pushing and stage-diving.  Every second I felt someone would get hurt big time.  I was not prepared for all these actions in the mosh pit despite knowing this is part of the metalcore/hardcore scene.  I had a hard time trying to find a place where I could comfortably stand without making myself part of the collateral damage.  The place was packed.  With the ear-splitting screaming and shouting and raucous and amp-screeching vocals and shredding, each band’s performance was throwing another wood log into the bonfire.  The performance was so raw, with much frustration and anger in the air. and some of the vocals were so dark to the extent of scary.  The audience were definitely dressed for the occasion.  You saw a variety of band tees, Mohegans, heavy makeups, nose-rings, intriguing patterns of tattoos.  Large age difference in the audience too — it ranges from underaged kids who dyed their hairs in rainbow colors to old timers who apparently rocked pretty hard back in the 70s.  The underground scene is hardly comfortable, and people who frequent scene like this apparently know each other well while anyone else are just outsiders struggling in the pit with the underaged kids being the obvious exceptions.  Those damn kids made up one-third of the audience.  I doubt every kid who contributed to the chaos was a fan of hardcore music; more likely because the show was free.  The kids were going again and again on the stage-diving and moshing, shamelessly demonstrating the indestructibility and fearlessness in youth. 

It was an odd scene — not in its presentation, but in its pure existence.  There is hardly any counterculture or subculture in the age of Internet where everyone is able to select the genres they like and compose their own playlists on streaming services and stay in their own communities without listening to literally any other genres of music.  People do not have to watch the MTV, or be bothered by who made the Billboard 100, or subscribe to the mainstream at all.  In this sense, mainstream music is weakened and replaced by gazillions of fragmented subcultures.  Underground music is therefore a misnomer.  It is essentially just certain type of music that certain subdivision of the public listen to.  Agains, because of fragmentation of music cultures, there is no real mainstream culture to disdain or to fight against.  There are plenty of people out there love political raps, as many as those love Harry Styles and Dua Lipa.   That said, there is something else going on in the underground scenes, something richer and more sophisticated. 

Almost all music lovers pick their favorite bands from the constellation of bands throughout the world.  They go to their bands’ concerts in arena, stadiums, big or small venues.   They go to music festivals where they favorite bands perform.  These performances, however, are culturally controlled.  There is always heavy marketing prior to the show; bunch of merchs sold ahead of the show and at the show; a few tickets oligarchs marking up the price by charging service fees that sometimes take up 20% of the ticket price; overpriced alcoholic drinks sold at the show, just to name a few.  The whole experience becomes a well-packaged product readily consumable by concert-goers, who may or may not be music lovers.  To steal an analogy from someone else, it is an amusement park experience — you go in and you go straight to the roller coaster and the space shuttle for the bang of your bucks.  In a show like this, the audience is basically shouting “give me a rock show experience!” and the setup precisely answers to that need.

At the underground scene, however, there is no entrance fee and you will only need to pay for the alcohol (or cokes/ginger beers in the kids’ case).  There is no barrier to entry, and there is no pre-screening for anyone’s economic strength.  The only thing really matters is your interest in the music.  While the underground scene is still alive in a city as free as New York, it is by no means well or thriving.  It is barely making ends meet.

At a dinner with a friend with whom I always share my thoughts on music, he asked me, “what kind of music people in China listen to these days?”  I thought pretty hard for a few minutes but could not come up with an answer.  On the one hand, I am sort of out of touch with the music scenes in my own country these days, on the other hand and more importantly, I have not heard any friends of mine who live in China raving about any up-and-coming bands.  My impression of Chinese rock has been crystalized in the 90s or early 2000s when rock and punk music was played in bars in hutongs (alleyways) in Beijing and around universities and where teenagers and college kids were going crazy for “da kou die” (junk and damaged records or CDs) dumped by wholesalers in the west and imported by Chinese record stores.  There, counterculture was thriving, in the most improbable place among all places.  

That golden age became the breeding ground for Joyride, P.K.14, Carsick Cars, Brain Failure, Hedgehog, Miserable Faith, just to name a few.  It can’t be a coincidence that many songs of these bands are in English — for the obvious reason, it is less straining to express high hopes, dissatisfaction, frustration, angst, shattered dreams and profanity in English.  

There used to be a live house called You Gong Yi Shan in Beijing that I went for concerts during college years.  It was a gathering place for rock bands, punk kids, musicians from all over the world.  It had shows almost every other day and the tickets were cheap.  I recall going there watching a Nirvana cover band, Norwegian indie rock band Flunk, and many other local bands.  I remember the limelight casting on the stage and the stage instantly lit on fire — well, until 11 years later when it eventually had to close.  Many other iconic live houses were also closed around the time.  From what I heard, it was due to a mixture of political pressure and economic reasons.  With the closures, it went teenage riot and yearnings for rebellion.  Ironically, the name of the live house is an old Chinese idiom directly translatable to “a foolish man trying to move the mountain.”

About 15 years ago when the rock counterculture was relatively thriving in China, director Kevin Fritz made a movie about the band Joyride entitled “Wasted Orient” while following the band on their nationwide tour.  The movie is too honest, and brutally hard to watch.  It showcases despair, frustration, filth, and begs the question of how arguably the best rock/post-punk band in China at the time could possibly hit their dead end.  In his own words, “[t]he film Wasted Orient is what it is pure and simple … It is the true way of Chinese rock n’ roll … It’s very unwanted in that society and is shown in its citizens’ apathetic response to it.”  

Joyside has a song called “Not My Time to Die.”  I don’t know the genesis of this Joyside’s song but it very much sounds like begging, for more time, more space and another chance.  Not clenching their fists, but appealing for leniency – is that how countercultures are going to end eventually?

It′s not my time

Not my time to die

There must be more to live

I know it’s not the time

So just let me live

I got the lust for life

I′m going to play it in style

A Night Out

Posted: 7th February 2022 by Jiang Helen in Flash Fiction

[This is a fictional piece.  Any similarity to actual persons or occurrences is purely coincidental.]

My date canceled on me due to the fact that they couldn’t finish packing in time for moving the next day. I probably should have canceled the reservation at this seemingly upscale cocktail bar, but I did not. Not only because they will charge a no-show penalty but also because I find no harm checking this place out on my own, especially when it is allegedly the birthplace of the Beat Generation.

I’ve never felt uncomfortable sitting in a bar by myself, and sometimes would go alone intentionally for a nightcap. One thing with which I am not dealing too well is the stare; but this place has done a good job preserving privacy of their customers: they put up flowery and exquisite drapes between tables, essentially dividing the space into multiple silos. I’m sitting at the most inside table, so inside that no one will notice my existence. It’s a secret garden of some sort.

While waiting for my drinks, which is supposed to be a semi-strong dose of medicine comprising Maker’s, absinthe, Aperol, vanilla bean and honey, I’ve been eavesdropping on the conversation from the silo next to mine. Food. Ok, a harmless topic. Comparison of beet salad and Philly cheesesteak? Sure. Twenty minutes in, I decide that the texture of the orange peel floating in my drinks is a more fascinating subject of study. Are my past social exchanges as bland as this one? Do all social interactions necessarily involve pointless silence fillers? Does it sound worse than it is from a bystander’s perspective? Or am I too jaded and indifferent of social interaction as a whole?

That cannot be true. I sometimes felt the strong urge to get to know someone new, in parks, bars, at parties, through friends. Just when I began to know them better, I felt an equally strong urge to “un-know” them, not because they turn me off in any particular way. I’m too comfortable being left on my own device; and I hate to subject people to my own will or to force themselves to satisfy my needs in order for me to endure the interaction. Lately I’ve been feeling miserable, though all of a sudden I don’t feel a thing, until that miserable feeling overtook me again. Work is not the only source of misery; it is likely where my life is going (or not going) that caused this feeling of ennui. My life is stagnated, almost on all fronts. So you see my struggle of getting to know people while wishing that I’ve never met them at all.

The conversation at the next table progressed. Now they’ve established that the male maybe the next Zuckerberg and the female is a marketing guru who wished to close big deals since she was a child. I hope the two on this first date hear themselves talking, so that they can take it down a notch on the pretentiousness and self-righteousness. I’m desperate to see their faces — faces and the way people converse are often shockingly consistent.

I asked for the check, and now I’m out in the cold again. Walking along MacDougal Street, I am considering catching a show in a live music bar. There are so many of them in the Village. I take a right. Some guy stops me right after I get on Bleecker. He asks,”do you know where Comedy Cellar is?” I naturally point him to the right direction. He then asks, “have we met before?” Sure, it is a Saturday night when people are drunk and chatty and love each other, but dude, I don’t know you; and what a lame pick-up line. But he goes on and asks if I am some sort of lawyer. That is a very good guess so I ask how does he know. He takes out his phone and starts to scroll through his contacts. There, my number and first name, right there. It dawned on me that I sort of went out with the guy once or twice a year ago, and the ending as I remember it was nothing short of embarrassing: I said maybe another time to sex and he ghosted me.

He asks me where I am heading and whether I want to walk with him in the Washington Square Park. I could say no. But I am not going to. He is the one talking almost the whole time we are walking. I am listening attentively, mainly because I am curious and surprised by the encounter. He speaks about Christianity, and how he recently found himself committed to it and how his life finally has a purpose. He sees the world differently now. He talks about how he has practiced tennis so much that he found himself really good at it and planned to go pro. He talks about his anxiety of going on a date with me. He says he is embarrassed that he wants to be in bed with me but at the same time feels that is not good for being a long term partner, while things such as walking the park and talking appear to be much healthier. I tell him I agree, though I am deeply confused and cannot tell whether that comment is a compliment or an insult. We part ways at the Arch, and promise to text each other next time we feel like confiding into each other.

I keep walking, and can’t stop thinking about the bizarre rendezvous and the conversation. The whole thing is very abrupt, brief, and yet full of information. What we talked about are so dense, and heavy, and substantive. I do not know the dude well, if at all. And yet here we are, exchanging ideas about philosophies, life, religion and emotions. We were connected deeply for a fleeting moment. No pleasantries, no food talk, no silence fillers. That conversation has a purpose despite arising out of the most random circumstances.

I decide to give the night another go. I turn around and head towards whatever bar on MacDougal. I know I will be disappointed and get bored very fast, but that’s okay.

Pure Simplicity

Posted: 29th October 2021 by Jiang Helen in Dazed and Confused

I went to many concerts lately. Many are live music shows located in bars with intimate settings. I love going there alone, without any need or desire to speak with anyone, though it was also nice when occasionally someone would strike a conversation with me about music, or anything else, or when I happened to sit next to a band member at the bar chatting away. Life appeared unreal and at its most ideal and purest form at those moments, and time became eternal.

We as unfortunate creatures in modern society constantly find ourselves in a state of anxiety – worrying about our job, our personal lives, our choices, what we get and don’t get, what other people’s got and we don’t get, our social media presence … We look further and ahead to gauge whether we’ve optimized our options at the moment; we try to resolve problems that we may just have to live with for a long time; we can’t stop looking and won’t stop looking … Life is so taxing.

At concerts, the minute when the drummer hollers “one – two – one – two – three” to the band and when you hear that first chugging guitar riff, everything around you freezes, your brain freezes, and you do not and cannot think about anything else other than the exploding and contagious energy pouring from the stage and the momentary state of elation. You suddenly feel alive. And you are no longer alone. Who you are and what you are outside the four corners of the venue does not matter; you can be no one or anyone; your life problems no longer exist. It is so simple, so easy, so good. You feel maybe you can finally start over.

As the performance continues, and as you have been concentrating on one thing and one thing only, your mind reaches a level of clarity. You see what you want all along, and you want it so bad. Funny how our senses are connected – when we are able to concentrate on what makes us happy, however momentary it may be, life becomes less of a chore.

When I was a teenager and a college kid, I did not need much stuff or money, and I travelled on budget, living in all sort of despicable and suspicious abodes just to see the world. I could bear it because I did not understand the significance of money and have not yet tasted materialism and comfort. After years of law school when I got my first pay check, contrary to what I had imagined, such as squandering it on a nice pair of Dr Martens, I immediately put it aside so as to satisfy some of my student debts. That feeling sucked. It sucks when you do not have any financial security and constantly had to worry about money. Then I changed job and got into BigLaw and had fatter pay checks, I started to own more and more things, more shoes, suits, furniture … on the bright side, though, I finally can afford a nice turntable and lots of vinyls. Oh, and a projector (I do not want or like TVs). Owning more stuff notwithstanding, I never pegged myself as a materialistic person. I always see them as burden that prevents me from packing up and taking off whenever I need to, burden that limits my options and mobility.

Admittedly, however, my spending can be out of control sometimes (just sometimes?), and I have a lifestyle to maintain (drinking and going out for the most part). Luckily, I’ve never put myself in a situation where I will have to pay mortgages; otherwise I would have to stay in BigLaw for its pay scale and prestige wearing “golden handcuffs” forever.

Life is still simple for me – compared to many others’. I just want to be free to the extent I could.

In a memoir of Dave Grohl (who by the way is my music hero), he mentioned many times that “more than anything, [he] was free, and there was adventure around every corner,” and “every day was a blank page, waiting to write itself,” though he had to crash with three other bandmates and was sandwiched between musical equipment in a dirty van when he was touring with Scream, and though he had to drive through apocalyptic Scandinavian snowstorms at night, to have his passport stolen while asleep, or, when he just joined Nirvana, to ration three-for-99-cent hotdogs from a gas station.

I always feel the exact same way. If I know anything about myself, I am curious and adventurous, and I get bored easily. I have travelled to many places at a young age, and it all started with a 9-year-old me staring at the “end of the world” (i.e. Long Point of Cape Cod, which has a an extreme tip on its peninsula) on a crumpled world map and listening to Neil Sedaka singing “bye bye love my baby’s leaving me …” (One Way Ticket, 1959). My life journey started right then and there. The sense of adventure and curiosity is invincible and takes you anywhere.

Disappointed as the it turns out to be (story for another day), believe it or not, I went into law for the same reason – I was curious about how the legal system functions and I wanted to be part of it. Yet, I never felt belonged to that world or the crowd for that matter (even when I was in arguably the most privileged law school). I could not bear listening to people prattling on about archaic doctrines albeit lack of modern relevance whatsoever, recycling argument and templates in the name of efficiency (or “not reinventing the wheels”), complaining about pool and subcontractor problems in Hamptons houses, or (not really) complaining about the long hours and difficult clients. I must admit when I first graduated law school, I did not give these much thoughts and perceived them as norms in an effort to blend in, especially as an immigrant who parachuted herself into a foreign land and did not want to lend more ammo to insiders who treat you “differently.” But I know something was wrong the moment I started to feel law restricts rather than frees my mind. I was longing to get back that feeling of freedom and adventure. I wanted to be excited about things and the world again. I wanted to feel sparks of imagination again. I wanted to be myself again. Only over time have I accepted the fact that whatever seemingly highflying job I have in law and finance, I was never and will never truly be the kind of person those jobs require. I am an outcast, a spirit stumbling through life, a restless overthinker, a kid backpacking Europe awed by its beauty – and I will always stay that way.

Life goes on and on and on. I start off every day languishing its pointlessness and trying to make it slightly better. Most of the times there is nothing I could do to alter its course. Alas, at least when I want to ward off the noise, I know what to do.

.

It’s Time.

Posted: 5th October 2021 by Jiang Helen in Dazed and Confused

Have you ever looked back and all of a sudden you see everything differently?

I knew a musician who’s a friend of a friend. I enjoyed his music and we talked a bit at a party. I thought he gave out an air of naivite and insophistication. Now I think I missed the chance of getting to know a really talented and thoughtful musician.

I had a college mate who I used to perceive as a competition (and vice versa) and who always followed what I did which is a huge turnoff. We hung out again after a long while. Now I think he is as lost as I am if not more, and has always been trying his best to figure things out as everyone else.

I spent 4 years in college, 4 years in law school, 1 year in grad school continuing to study law. I used to think career is everything to me. Now, I am so certain that I am not cut out for this law thing, and on the very opposite, being a lawyer consumes me, and I’m committing career suicide by a thousand cuts.

I couldn’t believe I once said banks are the victims in many lawsuits because they have deep pockets. Neither could I believe I once believe people in BigLaw are nice. I was so determined to become a good commercial lawyer once. Can you believe it.

My identity is so intertwined with what I do and my education. Now that I despise it, I am not sure who I am and what I am, and trying to redefine it is just so hard (but I haven’t stopped trying). But hey, better late than never.

I tried so hard during my last decade to make a decent living and valued intellectuality over any other qualities. Now I just wish I can be kind, be a real human being (I’m trying), and wish people around me can be the same, because people with good education and privilege can be such jerks.

I used to think people who cannot discuss politics or law are kind of boring and unworthy of having a conversation with; now I think I was actually the one who probably bored the crowd.

I used to wonder why I cannot sustain a romantic relationship beyond 2 years and why many of my dates disappeared after first few dates. Now I realized I could not date myself either because I would have bored myself to death too with all those “intellectual” jibber jabber.

I used to hide the fact that I was equally broken, screwed up, alcoholic, clueless in life as anyone. I tried to pretend to have everything fogured out. I finally stopped hiding.

I guess the only constant is that I still see freedom as the most important thing in my life, even though I am still working for someone else and still seem to be in the gutter, and even though there is perhaps no free will in the world at all. It’s okay. At least I have a north star somewhere out there to look at. At least after turning 30, I can start being true to myself, to who I really am.

What prompted all these changes, you asked? Nothing, it’s only time.

     A few days ago I was chatting with a corporate law professor, he talks about the somewhat unique phenomenon in America: it is quite commonplace that the salary of a not-super-affluent three-person household, such as a father holding an office job and a stay-at-home mom, to afford pretty nice houses equipped with standardized and well-maintained amenities, as opposed to renting condos or apartments in the crammed city center. He attributes this uniqueness to prosperity of American society. “Prosperity,” he said, “makes everything possible.”
     If we trace the source of such prosperity, most possibly we would end up with capitalism. Or more precisely, the rapid economic growth as an outcome of free trade, an increasingly integrated global market and flowing of capital through cross-border investments makes it possible. A scholar has compared capitalism with Christianity and Islam and termed it “the triumphant religion of the twentieth century” (See here for more). This so-called prosperity would seem more true if we choose to disregard the “1% and 99%,” division, or to believe that the “trickle down” effect is still valid and effective in our time. Though this celebration of capitalism is almost brushed off by the rise of global populist movements largely due to the economic inequality where wealth is concentrated only on the upper crust of society (which is worth discussing in a more in-depth manner in another article), the impact of prosperity on society and individuals is so prevalent and intense that we simply cannot take it for granted.
     Prosperity takes the form of consumerism in an individual level. Our life is transformed entirely by the material comfort brought about by the abundance of goods and commodities. As soon as we get accustomed to instantly getting what we want without having to sweat for it, there is no turning back. We become so spoiled that a life without such ease becomes hardly desirable; service undelivered becomes a sign of incompetence, and an expectation unfilled is an invitation for complaint and rage.
Typical behaviors related to consumerism include hoarding certain branded commodities or luxury goods, such as collecting Nike/ Adidas sneakers, or taking pride in buying the latest hi-tech products such as Apple watches or iPhones. Criticisms of these behaviors are usually contested by an equally compelling argument of personal choice. Even if we lament over the fact that things individuals own ends up owning and defining them, those not (yet?) bought into the clout of ownership cannot and should not control the voluntary or involuntary choices of every one else. In a liberal society, relativism, tolerance, respect and space are in place to protect all that you disagree with and find repulsive to.
     Most manifestly, the amount of revenues generated by transactions in relation to e-commerce in China has increased exponentially in the past few years. Transaction cost has been lowered unprecedentedly. Simply by tapping your fingers on the smartphone, food and groceries would be delivered in front of your porch within an hour. No need for carrying cash with you all the time—WeChat Payment (original functions of WeChat are similar to that of WhatsApp with a variety of add-up functions such as e-payment, phone top-up, bike renting or even investment management) or AliPay is available even when you buy street foods. Renting bikes through smartphone apps becomes commonplace and you can park the bikes anywhere because others can simply locate those bikes through the Global Position System (GPS) in the apps. The dark side of such low transaction cost is that many transactions that might be considered non-essential in the past are incurred. When you don’t really see your flatten wallet you don’t notice how much you have consumed. Apparently as long as you have money, no one is stopping you from spending it on things you want.
     Yet what comes with the increasingly unnecessary transactions and what is often overlooked by the freedom of choice argument is the social cost derived from such collective action. When you pay additional few RMBs to bring the restaurant food to your table, you hardly think of how much extra carbon dioxide the delivering vehicles have emitted, how many plastic bags and wrapping paper are used for packaging, and how many pairs of chopsticks are consumed. When everyone rent the bikes at such cheap price, few has foreseen the consequence of, for example, the parked bikes occupying too much space along the beach, leaving little space for people in fact taking a walk (See the news article here). Those effects are termed “tragedy of the commons” in economics, where individuals acting based on their self-interest in a shared-resource system end up destroying the entire system through their collective actions (See here for more). The ease of making transactions accelerates the occurrence of such tragedies and exacerbates the status quo by pushing for more “irresponsible” behaviors that take no account of the negative externalities that would be inflicted on the societal level.
     The curse of consumerism—stunning amount of waste, depletion of natural resources, acceleration of climate change—have been made buzzwords on social media for a fairly long time, and it can never be stressed enough. Apart from this most manifest destructive effect of consumerism on our mother Earth, there are other equally undesirable yet more latent, chronic and intangible effects. Consumption as a group behavior exerts an overwhelming influence—to the extent of coercion—on individuals who are less willing to be bought into it, and creates a culture where consumption becomes closely connected with individuals’ positions in an organization and their social status. According to Fukuyama in his book “The End of History and the Last Man,” human beings have an innate drive for recognition as part of their nature. And in his other book “The Origin of Political Order,” he claims the desire for status or recognition is the main force for historical advancement and pushes us to evolve into norm-followers. The desire of not being “excommunicated” and even recognized as a success by the social groups they belong has greatly disincentivized the alternative way of living, namely, minimalist lifestyle with very modest level of consumption.
     This alternative culture emerges among young adults, where possession is rejected and minimalism is celebrated. For example, writer Fumio Sasaki in his book “Goodbye, Things” described his experience of practicing minimalism and how this helps him find the long-lost happiness (See his Guardian article here),“Minimalism is a lifestyle in which you reduce your possessions to the least possible. Living with only the bare essentials has not only provided superficial benefits such as the pleasure of a tidy room or the simple ease of cleaning, it has also led to a more fundamental shift. It’s given me a chance to think about what it really means to be happy.
     Yet his passion is not widely shared in the society. Admittedly, stinting on food and housing are viewed not as a choice but a makeshift for millennials who are constantly accommodating for opportunities popped up in their lives and who are always on the move. Or even worse, middle-aged practitioners of minimalist lifestyle are perceived as “losers” that are unable to provide financial security for themselves and their families, if any. The alternative lifestyle would find it difficult to beat the norm, which is followed by the majority number of patrons and which defines almost everything else that surrounds it.
     Even if the force of consumption and materialism is hard to resist, it nevertheless pushes them to think further beyond material satisfaction—such as meaning of life, pursuit of happiness, or ways to make a difference. The material satisfaction not only relieves them of the burden imposed on their parent generations, but also ironically gives rise to a sense of emptiness—the twin brother of materialism. Pastime is hardly enough to fill such void. Political engagement, instead, would instill in their minds and souls a higher purpose and a sense of mission. The reality, however, shows an oddly opposite picture: the millennials in China demonstrates a lukewarm attitude toward politics compared to those in other countries, especially the liberal democracies; and such disengagement is sanctioned and encouraged by the Chinese society at large. Some western commentators attribute this unique phenomenon to the “new social contract” formed since the renowned but extremely sensitive incident at the end of 1990s, where political discussions were traded away for social stability and economic well being (See the review article of Even Osnos’ book “Age of Ambition”). I believe there are two possible explanations. First, milennials’ parent generation has learned their lessons in a hard way; the shocking consequences had diffused fear among the dreamers who were fortunate enough to survive, and transformed the remnant of their idealism into a craving for stability and safety; mediocrity seems not that bad a choice after all. In turn they began to preach to their kids how the hiccups and turbulence in a society would mean tragedies for individual households, and insinuated that one should keep away from any event that may trigger such misfortune. This fear has at least two layers of meaning: the fear of being persecuted for the activism in contrary to the dominant ideology, and the fear of losing what they have gained after being co-opted into the system. Second, the individual economic well being under a national prosperity has a self-perpetuating effect: it prolongs instead of challenging the status quo, whereas political engagement works to the exact opposite. How active a person engages in politics depends on the life stage one is going through—young adults are usually the ones avid for changes and for fixing injustice, as they are not yet members of the “haves” in the society. As they proceed to other stages in life and are no longer the “have-nots,” they would voluntarily withdraw from being the challenger of the establishment.

     Economic prosperity has changed us on so many levels—some are conspicuous and drastic, such as our way of consumption, while others are encroaching and intangible, like the way we think and engage with the rest of the society. Millennials are particularly susceptible to such impact and the increasing choices concomitant with economic well-being add further complication to their already confused minds. “Where to” is a good question to ask. But an even more important question is—“what’s for?”

[Copyright 2016 Helen Jiang. Please indicate the source when reposting.]

 

Recently I have finished reading an incredibly illuminating book titled Legal Orientalism. It is an ambitious legal and historic inquiry from the author Teemu Ruskola, who investigates the formation of Orientalism from a postcolonial legal perspective, i.e. how the lawlessness become default understanding of “Chineseness,” how a European tradition of philosophical prejudices about Chinese law developed into a distinctively American ideology of empire, and how such discourse is circulated globally, yet the Euro-American rule-of-law has become a “civilized” legal model for every state to emulate. Readers who are familiar with Fukuyama’s The End of History and The Last Man, or The Origin of Political Order may find Ruskola’s account unexpected but intellectually riveting. I would recommend it to anyone who finds himself stuck in a stereotypical view of China and Chinese law.

 

Defining Rule-of-Law, and Does it Matter

Despite of the fact that rule of law is almost universally recognized as the aim of legal reform, legal community has not yet reached an agreement as to what it actually entails. Legal theorists have developed several definitions of rule-of-law, varying from “thin”-“thick” to “substantive”-“instrumentalist” versions.

But there are at least two things we can say certain about rule-of-law.

For one, the discourse of rule-of-law is always connected with legal Orientalism. The Orient, studied as the “Other” of the West, are conceptualized as despotic with a rule-of-man system, where people are incapable of appreciating the ideas of democracy, individual rights or rule of law. Conforming to the international standards, or in other words, adopting a Euro-American rule-of-law system is fundamental on their path to modernity, whose “signal marker” is the emergence of the real law (Ruskola, 6).

Secondly, ambiguous definitions render this terminology neutral, hence politically appealing—rule-of-law is desired and propagated by all governments, however drastically they diverge on the ideological spectrum. A case in point is that both China and the US use rule-of-law rhetoric yet their agenda are utterly different: rule-of-law is desirable for China because it hopes to attract more foreign investment by creating an efficient, fair and transparent legal environment. Whereas U.S. law and development program in China presupposes a spillover effect: establishment of rule-of-law leading to the creation of a more democratic political institution (Ruskola, 13). US State Department has always treated Rule of Law Initiative in China as part of their human rights policy and incorporated substantive legal rights.

Nonetheless, Ruskola points to a popularly held definition, i.e., “…a rule of rules: a system of neutrally administered legal sanctions and incentives that provide the basis for an orderly modern society” (14). It is widely accepted because it lays out minimum requirements for any system of rule-of-law: a reasonably ascertainable body of laws, and the institution capable of applying those laws in a reasonably consistent manner (Ruskola, 162). In other literature it is also termed the “thin” version of rule-of-law.

The assessment of the value and efficacy of rule-of-law varies in different times and under different administrations.

Since the Opium War, China has been making great efforts learning from the West, including establishing and reforming its legal system up till today. Particularly, Republics of China (“RoC”) under Guomindang (“GMD”) designed a scientific legal system modeled on European civil law tradition, and invited American legal scholars such as Roscoe Pound as advisors of this reform. RoC had other agenda behind the reform, such as to get continuous financial and military support from the U.S. government, and “to defeat long-lived Orientalist prejudices and to show that China was in fact fully capable of establishing a system of rule-of-law” (Ruskola, 201). In this sense, the RoC views Western rule-of-law as exemplary, a model to copy and emulate. Despite of the political rivalry and drastically different ruling ideologies the Chinese Communist Party (“CCP”) has compared to those of GMD’s, the contemporary China under CCP seems to have adopted a similar perception towards the rule-of-law. As Ruskola put it, China has “juridified” itself, meaning China has been absorbed into the modern international legal system (28), partly, and probably mainly, due to China’s efforts of “self-Orientalization,” typically by joining the WTO. Rule-of-law as a desirable system becomes more apparent when the CCP added the principle of rule-of-law into the 1999 Constitution, making it an official governing policy. The PRC White Paper on Rule of Law issued by the State Council does not shun away from its endorsement of the rule-of-law as a symbol of development of a political civilization and the crystallization of “human wisdom… desired and pursued by people of all countries” (Ruskola, 198).

On the flip side, there are abundant criticisms on rule-of-law, along with its Orientalist assumptions and implications. Rule-of-law, though maybe politically neutral, as a principle it was criticized as too broad and all-encompassing, thus was too obscure to apply in societies outside the western democratic context. The dichotomy between rule-of-law and rule-of-man obscures the existence of various legal traditions and reduced the global legal labyrinth to a simple civilized and non-civilized forkroad. The aspiration and reform towards rule-of-law is at heart the extension of western imperialism based on an Orientalist perception—conquering countries ruled by men and replacing them with rule-of-law, which is no less a particular institution as rule-of-man. Furthermore, the virtue of rule-of-law has never been fully examined and justified, in Ruskola’s words, it is “a universal good-in-itself that requires no justification beyond itself” (58). Therefore some legal scholars shift their focus of Chinese law studies from asking “is there rule of law in China” to “should there be rule of law in China?” (Ruskola, 58) The change of inquiry is a recognition that rule-of-law system is not universal and that there are things that rule-of-law is unable to achieve.

Matthew Stephenson’s paper A Trojan Horse Behind Chinese Walls discusses, inter alia, the drawbacks of establishing the rule-of-law in a society like China. This initiative involves building an independent judiciary, providing better legal education, better trainings of judges and lawyers, and generating widespread support for further reform from the public. Rosy as it may sound, even assuming a rule-of-law system is finally established, the instrumentalism created by the rule-of-law is inherently anti-reform, as the conservative elites would make use of the better trained lawyers to block changes that threaten their interests. Rule-of-law’s emphasis on the formal aspects of contract law and property protection as well as legal channels of dispute resolution may disrupt the pre-existing informal mechanisms which are more accessible to the poorer population. The efficacy of a rule-of-law system in China is doubtful too, as China already appears to fend off any possible liberal spillover into political sphere through creating institutional “firewalls”, in other words, by separating the rules applicable to foreign matters.

My take on this debate is that we shouldn’t indulge ourselves in hairsplitting the virtue and vice of rule-of-law in a pure metaphysical or ideological level, neither is it wise to reject rule-of-law as a neo-imperial institution. Rule-of-law entails many universally endorsed features such as predictability of rules, consistency of legal application, equal treatment, etc. It should certainly be understood in more substantive terms, such as the requirement of human dignity, fairness, protection of individual and property, etc. The real issue in face of the leading reformists in a country is how to translate the value of rule-of-law into its own, meanwhile understanding fully its limitations in a different cultural and historical context.

 

Provincializing Rule-of-Law: No More “Universal” Cliché

The Anglo-American perception of the international legal regime is binary, distinguishing a modern and mostly Christian West from a despotic and non-Christian Orient. The former boasts a rule of law whereas the latter is characterized by rule of men. The values and rules of the former are universal, while the latter represents, juxtaposed to such universality, certain type of particularity. Consequently, whatever is termed “law” in the Orient is anything but rule of law in the modern sense, and should eventually be civilized and included into the universal system.

Against this backdrop, to provincialize the US law in general is to “decenter” Western analytical categories, to stop fitting facts of one system into the confines of the other through comparison and contrast. To provincialize is to re-position the two legal orders in a particular history of the universal. Under this paradigm, Anglo-American law is no longer the standard, but merely one part of amid the entire global legal system.

It might be helpful to do a case study here. If we apply a provincialization approach to US corporate law, it means we must “listen to both Confucian and [western corporation] contractarian stories carefully to learn what they tell and what they omit and what kinds of legal subjects they summon into being.” (Ruskola, p.102) It also means to recognize US corporate law as one way of conceptualizing corporations, among many other configurations. At the end of the day, the two legal orders based on divergent ideologies have “a notable functional convergence.” (Ruskola, p.104)

US corporate law believes corporations are an aggregation of individual units formulated by a nexus of contracts. Traditional Chinese clan corporations are normally perceived as collective entities operating under Confucianist ideology in pursuit of collective good. As Ruskola eloquently put, “the Orientalist story of Chinese law is one where kinship overwhlems the entire system, seemingly crowding out even the conceptual possibility of the corporation as a legal form.” (p. 85) Inevitably, comparison like this leads to a scenario where Chinese family law governing clan corporations is positioned vis-à-vis US corporate law, with a conclusion that the particular Chinese family law is to be analyzed in the light of “universal” discourse of corporate law. Consequently, Chinese family law is understood yet simultaneously misundertood through the lens of legal Orientalism.

Instead, by provincializating US corporate law, we would see the typical altruistic, paternalistic elements featured Chinese law are in fact no more than what what commonly associated with family obligations, and those features may be found in any type of corporate law in any legal system.

These two legal orders, however distinctive they each appear, function in a way to adapt to particular needs and problems in a certain society within certain period of time. Several functional similarities are identified as follows.

First of all, both laws have to deal with issues regarding family. It is apparent that operation of Chinese clan organizations revolves around families and kinship groups, yet family law plays an important role in US corporate law as well. Disputes in family businesses and close-held enterprises are adjudicated among family members, resulting in re-adjustment of domestic relations.

Second, both legal orders are structured based on an altruistic assumption. As Confucianism treats family as one single body, family heads in China are believed to be naturally capable of subordinating their selfish desires to the good of the family and community, hence are infallible. In a similar vein, directors and officers are entrusted to manage corporation affairs for the best interests of the shareholders. Typically, the “business judgment rule” is formulated with an underlying assumption, namely, individuals can act in a selfless fashion to further the greater good in society.

Third, both laws aim to safeguard the common welfare of corporations. Function of US corporate law is to provide default terms to fill the blanks had the parties fail to negotiate complete contracts, or to provide what they would have bargained for had they anticipated the problems beforehand. The same holds true for Chinese family law regulating clan organizations.

Fourth, to maximize common welfare and utility, both systems impose fiduciary duties on managers. Such rules are inherently paternalistic, as they appear to have “some special ‘insight into the characteristics of people’s utility functions.’” (Ruskola, 102). Another case in point is mandatory disclosure requirement of public companies, the purpose of which is to create a more stable and transparent securities market, and a less volatile investment environment.

In addition, other functional equivalents of US corporate law detected in Chinese family law include centralized management separate from ownership, certain level of free association under the seemingly strict genealogy, feature of legal personality where clan corporations can sue in court, the constant attempt of aggrandizing the size of clan property and trust by clan members, the fact that proceeds can be distributed and transferred, etc.

To sum up, provincialization of the US corporate law is an acknowledgment that it is essentially particular. To make sense of its formulation requires context, the same way Chinese family law should be understood and construed. US corporate law is no more than one solution to the common social and legal conundrums that are faced by peoples across cultures and regions, and one constituent of the global legal history and its development.

 

Legal Orientalism: A Historical Inquiry

Ruskola derives the term “legal Orientalism” from postcolonial literature on “Orientalism”, a derogative perception of the East from the West, and focuses on the legal aspects of this discourse. To use his own words, “by the term legal Orientalism, then, I refer on the most general level to a set of interlocking narratives about what is and is not law, and who are and are not its proper subjects” (Ruskola, 5). Through tracing the history of American extraterritorial jurisdiction and indirect imperialism in China, Ruskola analyzes how the West started out treating Chinese “law” as an object of their comparative study, how such comparative knowledge was then circulated in a global level, and was over time transformed into a conviction and a regime of legal institution generating various effects under different historical contexts. (10)

One source of legal Orientalism comes from comparative legal studies, where Chinese law is normally defined and examined as the “Other” of the Western law. Chinese law is viewed as exclusively penal and despotic, such as the codes in the past dynasties. Also, since Chinese dynasties were ruled by emperors, Chinese law was essentially a rule-of-men system, anything but the “real law”—where the state should be constrained and people protected from arbitrariness.

Legal orientalism is also a concept reflecting the cultural distance between the East and West. In post-Cold war era, law became predominant and was deemed an institution to be universally applied; western political order’s close association with rule of law in turn makes the liberal democratic order universal. Culture is inherently particular, as they are dispersed and lack of a common feature. How particular the Chinese system is hence relies on how distant it positions itself vis-à-vis the liberal culture.

Ruskola then moves beyond the epistemological level and looks at the material practice of legal orientalism. The United States did not establish any colonies in China as what the European imperialists did during the Opium War. Yet the signing of the Treaty of Wanghia between China and the United States, one of the many unequal treaties China was forced to sign at that time, kicked off American indirect imperialism in China—the Treaty allows extraterritorial jurisdiction of American law to be applied to US citizens in China. Caleb Cushing, the mastermind of this Treaty, successfully justified it using the rhetoric of legal Orientalism, contending it would be ignominious and humiliating for US to submit itself to Chinese jurisdiction, which was characterized as despotic and arbitrary by the Europeans. From then on U.S. turned from a victim of European imperialism to a global champion of institutionalizing Anglo-American legal order in the Orient.

Yet in reality, the consular courts in China were inefficient and the judges incompetent. The U.S. Court for China established in 1906 by the Congress operated with “the plain weirdness” under the laws of Alaska, codes in the District of Columbia, general congressional acts, even common law in colonies prior to the Declaration of Independence (Ruskola, 7). While the U.S. Court for China applied American laws all the time, the fact that judges had to ascertain the applicable law before an excess of laws and that the highest law of the land—the U.S. Constitution—was not applicable to the “District of China” appear erratic, contradictory and hardly lawful.

The International Mixed Court in the Settlement in Shanghai, which was supposed to be a Chinese court applying Chinese law in disputes involving Chinese defendants, ended up fashioning its own law by foreign laypersons as assessors of the Court, and enforcing such law directly on the Chinese population. All of these practices were justified by the conviction that China itself is a lawless place. As Ruskola accurately put, this is “a spectacular instance of legal Orientalism’s capacity to produce the conditions that validate it in the first place” (191). As such, the rhetoric of legal orientalism and its illocutionary effects were finally built into the institution of international law.

Ruskola sees this moment as the vanishing point of the distinction between representation of the Chinese law through the lens of legal Orientalism and the Chinese law itself, as “the former became the latter” (27). The discourse thus turned concrete and China as a lawless place became a legal fact, which in turn was used to justify China’s particularity and its exclusion from the rest of the world. (Ruskola, 11)

The Chinese Exclusion Case and the anti-Chinese immigration laws passed by the Congress at the end of the 19th century are typical examples of how legal Orientalism as a legal fact helps justify the exclusion of Chinese immigrants. It was believed that Chinese immigrants are incapable of self-governance and appreciate individual rights and rule-of-law required by U.S.’s republican form of government.

At this point, U.S. successfully established itself as a political system with universal and exemplary values, a paradigmatic model to be readily imitated by other polities. Meanwhile China became its antithesis. Deeply rooted in the long tradition of European prejudices on oriental despotism, U.S. developed a better form of legal imperialism in China, and entered into a crucial stage for the export of U.S. law and globalization of modern legal system.

As of today, even though we find ourselves in an open global society where diversities are embraced, legal Orientalism is far from downplayed. In fact, its impact becomes stronger and broader.

Now, my previous blog posts mentioned some personal encounters with the American students, lawyers, or politicians I met during the past years, as well as my responses and frustrations towards some of their comments. Please bear with me if you find my repeating myself here. And also note that what I said here is definitely not the single accurate answer to all the confusions, as everything about China is rather complex and highly nuanced.

So basically three issues regarding China most frequently come up: Xi’s heavy-handed anti-corruption campaign, persecution on criminal defense lawyers or dire human rights situation in general, and aggressive foreign policy under Xi Administration. Commentators often compare those measures to the despotic rules of Chinese dynasties, or the extreme deprivation of freedom of speech during the Cultural Revolution—a classic interpretation based on legal Orientalism. Yet Xi’s measures should not be explained as simple as enriching his personal power. Organic change in China is extremely incremental, given that the population of the poor, the rural residents and the less educated is extremely huge. Democracy’s magic in America cannot easily be transplanted on Chinese soil. Xi Administration may simply have chosen the way they deem most efficient—as all other leaders in a country do—only that the way they chose is not the American style democracy which the U.S. deems universal.

Human rights situation in China is characterized as abysmal—criminal defense lawyers were detained and charged, corrupted officials are arrested and convicted without due process. Admittedly, China’s way to deal with criminal suspects is draconian, and the system is rather opaque. Yet the media and critics are so readily jumping to the conclusion, almost by default and before getting to know the facts cold, that the defendants were persecuted unreasonably by the government.

Finally, the establishment of Asian Infrastructure Investment Bank (AIIB) was perceived as a challenge of American universality and its hegemonic status, thus Washington decided not to engage with it through portraying China as a bully in the Asia-Pacific region that does not abide by the “universal” market rules and monetary policies.

The intensifying effect of legal Orientalism may be attributed to the polarization of Sino-U.S. ideological divergence, or Chinese government and people’s engagement with “self-Orientalization.” But whatever the reasons, legal orientalism will keep playing a big role in formulating the bilateral relationship, and American perceptions and misperceptions of China.

[Copyright 2016 Helen Jiang. Please indicate the source when reposting.]

As a frequent traveller, I never thought I’m capable of making such a rookie mistake–being rejected to board my flight to Hamburg because it has a layover in Poland, a Schengen country as Germany, one day ahead of my visa entry date, even though I will arrive in Hamburg by the first day I am allowed to enter. Too bad. And I thought I should have known better.

This rather unfortunate sudden change of plan gave me some time to gather the thoughts lingering on my mind for a long time, and finally to have the chance to memorialize them.

Some Thoughts on China that Maybe Distasteful to the West and Mainstream Media

Three things regarding China most frequently mentioned by the Americans I met during the past few months, no matter they are students, lawyers, or politicians, are Xi’s heavy-handed anti-corruption campaign plus the persecution on criminal defense lawyers and dire human rights situation in general, sickening air pollution in major cities, and more “aggressive” foreign policy under Xi Administration.

Their comments are more like expression of disgruntles and dissatisfaction. Frustration towards China is prevalent among three branches of government. Convinced that the China will not trust the West no matter how much reassurance was provided, the West is on the verge of giving up engaging with China. Instead, more hostile measures ensued, including dismissive treatment of Asian Infrastructure Investment Bank (AIIB), media lambaste on China’s reclamation of land on South China Sea, etc. During a talk with some officials in NSC, I realized they basically stop being  optimistic on any improvement of Sino-US relation. Here I would like to offer some counterarguments for these biased and unnecessarily pessimistic perceptions without appearing to be beautifying Xi Administration in any way.

Obama is not even closer to a realist; his policies are grounded on idealism and the principles he deemed central for American national interests, as part of what he calls “smart power”. Kissinger during the interview with The National Interest admitted that Obama’s vision is “more ideological than strategic.” (Full interview is here.) Typically, South China Sea has been in dispute for decades; it only became salient recently because this Administration makes it so. Previously its more pragmatic predecessors decided to maintain the status quo and shifted focus on other fields without touching the unresolvable. Knowing that China will never concede on the title of its territory, Obama nevertheless decided to advance its agenda. This will barely change anything except for exacerbating the already shaking Sino-US relation, without even improving the interests of the U.S.. Giving up on South China Sea issue is perceived as opening the gate for further erosion of China’s territory, and the concept of land and boundaries has been entrenched in Chinese history for thousands of years. It bewilders me whether Obama and his policy advisors did not know it or choose so in any case. The mutual reassurance called for will be harder to gain on both sides. In the light of this, plus America’s non-engagement with AIIB, Xi is more convinced that reconciliation will only leave the impression to the world that everyone must follow the rules set by America, and hampers China’s leadership role in Asia. It’s hard to crack the rationale underlying Obama’s foreign policies other than ideology.

Human rights situation in China is characterized as abysmal–criminal defense lawyers were detained and charged, corrupted officials are arrested and convicted without due process. Admittedly, Chinese way to deal with criminal suspects is more draconian, and the system is not particularly transparent. Yet these enthusiasts and critics missed the other half of the story. If we look at the charges, they are not groundless–the probable cause exists, such as fabrication of evidence (as in Zhang Jianzhong‘s case), supported by testimony or other types of evidence. Advocates called the charges “questionable at best,” in fact, their doubt for such charges and their belief on the defendants’ innocence was equally questionable. It is not by default that whenever a David was facing a Goliath, David was on the righteous side. Everyone should refrain from jumping to the conclusion too fast before knowing the facts cold.

The anti-corruption campaign is viewed as Xi’s instrument to weed out dissents in the Party. Without denying the possibility of this interpretation, can’t it be an effort to make out a clean slate in the government before he could initiate any floor shaking policies that call for extensive support? Organic change in China is especially incremental, given the population of the poor, the rural residents and the less educated is extremely huge. Democracy’s magic in America cannot easily be transplanted in Chinese soil. Though a population does not have to be educated enough to engage in democratic life such as election, it is certainly the case that existence of democratic culture is a precondition. Yet what China needs right now is an effective and decisive government run by the group of people who are best informed of the effects of all types of governments, who have sufficient experience with the Chinese context and who have a vision for how China could be and should be in the long term. Yet the intricacy and impenetrability of the system stymied any reforms at the moment. Xi chose the way he deems most efficient: creation of deterrence. The heavy-handedness makes every official shiver, intimidating them into compliance or restraint. “Cherry pick” might be the case, yet I don’t see much harm identifying and picking the black sheep in the herd to discipline others. Point is that Xi’s measures should not be explained as simple as enriching his personal power. China is different from North Korea, it is a country aiming for a future and leadership, with a vision that is different from the current one. Simplifying an issue is deadly to understand a nation, its policy, and how it presents itself in the world.

I have been struggling with my own perception of the nation I’ve been living for ages. I endorse the idea of respect for human rights. I am among the people who want to improve the policies and restore a more sound and optimistic Sino-US relation. Despite of these, I keep reminding myself that one should not be over-zealous towards the big principles without setting it in context. We need counterarguments to think further and better. Principles and high moral grounds can blind our eyes.

To end my mumbling with a potent note, I would like to quote Kissinger who probably have a more in-depth view on China than most policy advisors in the U.S.. He says,

The way the debate is conventionally presented pits a group that believes in power as the determining element of international politics against idealists who believe that the values of society are decisive. Kennan, Acheson or any of the people you mentioned did not have such a simplistic view. The view of the various realists is that, in an analysis of foreign policy, you have to start with an assessment of the elements that are relevant to the situation. And obviously, values are included as an important element. The real debate is over relative priority and balance. (emphasis added)

Today the U.S. Supreme Court held in Obergefell v. Hodge (the complete opinion can be read here; the oral arguments here) that marriage is a fundamental right of individual and should be extended to gay couples. This decision on the first sight is a landmark victory for LGBT group in America.

As much as I support this landmark decision, I just cannot agree on the way many articles (set forth at the end of this short article) lambaste and ridicule the dissenting opinions by taking their words out of context. The issue is not a matter of fact, nor a matter of law. It is a matter of politics when the Constitution fails to inform us what marriage means and entails.The SCOTUS majority chose to adopt the consent-based vision of marriage over the traditional conjugal view– the latter one should not be rashly judged as inherently wrong. The decision is nothing more than reflecting the SCOTUS’ understanding that the social mores is ready to expand the scope of marriage to include the concept of “civil union”. The sparse legal analysis therein should be given less weight–it becomes so obvious that the Court tried harder than any time before to rationalize such political decision.

Check them out:

Scalia Said To Ask The Nearest Hippie About Marriage, So We Did

19 Hysterical Passages From Supreme Court Same-Sex Marriage Dissenters

Antonin Scalia Dissent In Marriage Equality Case Is Even More Unhinged Than You’d Think

The Antonin Scalia “Sick Burn” Generator