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大陆养老保险困局

2011-11-04T20:54:00.000-07:00

大陆养老保险困局: □ 记者熊剑锋

二十年后，你退休的时候，能不能领到养老金，会不会打折？欠发达地区已出现社保缺口，怎么来弥补？国家养老基金会不会......>>点击查看新浪博客原文

港大校长离职：香港悲剧的又一缩影？

2011-11-04T20:53:00.000-07:00

徐立之的讲话令许多人感觉到，回归中国十四年之后的香港，似乎依然还是一个令人向往的香港，徐立之也成为迄今为数不多依然坚持己见的香港学者。

但最近一周，人们对香港和港大的这一丝美好的祝愿，却面临不幸破灭的危险，原因是徐立之忽然宣布，明年合约期满后将不再寻求连任；而他在几个月之前还曾信誓旦旦地表示，将寻求再次连任校长。而近日更有消息，显示徐立之在”8.18″事件后虽然受到了香港社会的一致好评，但却面临来自香港特区政府，甚至可能还有来自北京的压力。

8.18事件：徐立之令北京尴尬？

今年8.18李克强访问港大，保安措施空前严密，不但超出了对国家领导人必要的保护范围，而且还在相当程度上损害了港大学生表达自由的权利。其实，李克强此次香港之行，在香港当地引起很大争议，其焦点一是保安措施过严，以至于香港民间要求平反”六四”的示威游行完全被阻挡在李克强的视线范围之外；二是李克强在港期间，完全回避各种敏感问题。在港大访问期间，李克强不但被安排的位置十分突出，而且警方还为此而将示威游行的学生推倒在地，并关进小屋。

李克强访港结束后，香港社会掀起了一场轩然大波，其焦点是：一、对国家领导人的保安措施无可非议，中外皆然，但问题是此次保安措施明显过度，以至于损害了香港的公民权利；二、港大对李克强的特殊待遇，似乎有刻意献媚之嫌。

8.18之后，港大师生对校长徐立之施加了很大压力，要求他明确立场，并说明事实真相。面对来自师生的压力，徐立之公开表示，李克强到港大参加该校百年校庆，非港大校方邀请，而是由于北京方面的主动要求；他同时就保安措施过严而向师生致歉，甚至几次鞠躬，并一再表示港大将继续维持独立自由的传统。

徐立之事后的表现在香港社会引起了很好的反响，但却让香港特区政府和北京陷入十分尴尬的境地，尤其是他将中方主动要求到访港大的”内幕”也抖露了出来，就更令港府和北京的有关部门感到不痛快。因此，一段时间以来，徐立之是否将遭遇压力，成为人们暗中观察香港自由指数的一个指标。

港府和北京干预成真？

许多人心中的担心终于成为了现实。不久前还信誓旦旦寻求连任的徐立之，日前突然表示约满后不再连任；更重要的是，据香港媒体透露，香港大学校董委员会主席之前为此还专门找徐立之谈话，要求他明年约满后不再寻求连任。

这一消息显然与人们之前的猜测有所吻合。虽然徐立之本人和其他有关人士都否认这一消息，但这几天香港社会还是被闹得沸沸扬扬，有关徐立之去向及其幕后背景成为舆论关注的对象。

在香港的分析家们倾向认为，香港媒体透露的徐立之离职的内幕，基本上八九不离十，不会是空穴来风。如果这样，那么香港大学作为香港学术自由的旗帜，其在人们心目中的形象可能从此将大打折扣，而北京对香港的政治干预，以及香港对北京政治干预的屈服，恐怕也就更明白无误地展现在人们面前。

香港公民社会无能为力？

其实，香港回归中国后，这种矫枉过正的情况时有发生。从北京与香港的关系来说，这属于两种完全不同的政治文化。北京的官员及其下属在访港时，香港无论是过于谨慎，还是甚至不惜扼杀自由氛围，均来自北京的特殊政治文化。问题是，香港特区政府和警方在这种情况下，不以为耻，反以为荣，同时丧失自己的独立性和主动性，这才是问题的关键以及真正让人担心的地方。这在围绕8.18事件，香港特区政府和警方的一系列矫枉过正的表现中，可以看得很明显。

在此次徐立之请辞的过程中，人们很难说清北京是否真正向香港方面施加了压力；人们知道的，只是香港大学校董委会的主席可能向徐立之本人施加了压力。实际上，即便北京真的向香港方面施加了压力，但只要港大校董委员会能够勇敢顶住，北京最后也还是必须与香港的公民社会取得妥协。这就是公民社会的能量和能力。但香港的公民社会显然已经自废武功，因而也就难怪北京步步紧逼了。

香港的真正悲剧就在于此，徐立之事件只不过是又一个缩影而已。

李崇光（香港的中国问题分析员）

责编：李鱼

本文由自动聚合程序取自网络，内容和观点不代表数字时代立场

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Anger and Humiliation on Streets of Athens

2011-11-04T20:52:00.000-07:00

Anger and Humiliation on Streets of Athens: Greeks are fuming at the antics of their political leaders, and few hold much hope that the promised national-unity government will haul the country out of its economic misery any time soon.

The privileges of China's elite include purified air

2011-11-04T20:51:00.000-07:00

The privileges of China's elite include purified air: Purifiers are among the perks of higher rank in the party

These Facts About The Chinese Startup Scene Will Blow Your Mind

2011-11-04T20:50:00.001-07:00

These Facts About The Chinese Startup Scene Will Blow Your Mind:

Entrepreneur Bowei Gai sold his last company, a mobile business-card reading app called CardMunch, to LinkedIn earlier this year. Since then, he's been able to pursue some of his other interests.

Like the Chinese startup scene.

Here's his presentation about what he learned→

Last month, Gai visited China to research the startup scene and culture. He wanted to see if there might be any good opportunities there for Silicon Valley entrepreneurs and investors.

Last night he posted a presentation of his findings, titled The China Startup Report, on Slideshare. It quickly became the second most popular presentation on the site. He gave us permission to post it here as well.

His takeaway: entering the Chinese market is like starting your first company. For instance...

Competition is insane. In the U.S. a good idea might spawn a few imitators. In China, there's almost no limit. Rumor has it there are as many as 5,000 Groupon clones and at least 100 different Android stores. Tactics can be vicious, including buying negative reviews about competitors and outright theft of intellectual property.

Chinese users have a completely different baseline of experience. In China, some Internet users have never even SEEN an email message because they've spent their whole life on QQ Messenger, the most popular IM network.

Setting up a company is a "nightmare." If you're a foreign company and want to raise U.S. funds, you have to set up a chain of subsidiaries in different countries to get the funding to flow right, get an Internet Control License from the government, and set up trusts for any employee you want to grant stock options.

Technically, startups there are way behind. There are few reliable cloud infrastructure services like Amazon Web Services, Heroku, or Google Apps -- you have to host everything yourself -- and developers are a generation behind on technology.

Startups spend a lot of money on office space. Most Chinese tech workers still prefer working for a big company, and prefer working for cash over equity. So if startups don't have a big beautiful office, potential hires will assume their prospects are dim and won't come to work for them. Home offices and loading docks are out of the question.

Ugly Web sites perform better. Most Chinese Web sites look ugly and crowded by Western standards, but testing suggests that these sites drive better conversion and clickthrough rates than the slick and clean Web 2.0 sites favored in the U.S.

Angel investors from outside don't have a chance. Nobody trusts anybody outside their immediate circle, and there's already plenty of money flowing around from Chinese sources. The only way to succeed is to immerse yourself in the culture.

With all that in mind, Gai said it's still worth checking out the Chinese startup scene. But you should know (or learn) the language, focus your visit on Beijing (which has about 10x as many startups as the second-biggest scene in Shanghai), and leave your American arrogance behind.

See the rest of the story at Business Insider

Please follow SAI on Twitter and Facebook.

See Also:

Britain prepared to block Eurozone move to relax arms embargo on China

2011-11-04T20:50:00.000-07:00

Britain prepared to block Eurozone move to relax arms embargo on China: Britain is prepared to block any move to relax the European Union arms embargo on China in exchange for Chinese help bailing out the eurozone.

北京环保局:空气质量不能看美国使馆所监测数据

2011-11-03T22:03:00.000-07:00

北京环保局:空气质量不能看美国使馆所监测数据:

　　雾是否就是“污染”？北京是否会成为雾都？市环保局官方监测的空气质量数据为何与美国大使馆的监测数据有出入？昨天，市环保局副局长、新闻发言人杜少中在微访谈直面网友质疑，并坦承北京的空气质量“自己与自己比有进步，但需继续努力，减少污染物排放”。

　　大雾天并非就是污染天

　　连续几天的大雾天气让市民非常揪心，空气质量明显下降。昨天，市环保局监测数据显示，全市轻微污染，仅有平谷区平谷镇空气质量为良。

　　网友提问说：“连续大雾导致空气质量很差，大雾天是不是就意味着污染比较严重？”杜少中解释说，雾本来不是污染，只是积累了污染物才会影响空气质量。从一个具体时间节点看，环境质量还没有摆脱靠天吃饭的被动。比如每遇季节交替，静风、逆温、低气压等不利气象条件，导致污染物易积累不易扩散，形成污染天是完全可能的。

　　数据不能看别人“眼色”

　　微博上有多位名人转发了美国大使馆监测的空气质量数据，该数据明显高于北京市环保局官方公布的数据。以昨日为例，美国大使馆监测到的北京空气质量指数为307，PM2.5细颗粒物浓度为257，而环保局官方公布的空气污染指数为132。

　　对此，杜少中明确表示，大使馆(美国驻华大使馆)数据一再申明是内部使用，“我们用一把尺子，量了十几年，结果已经说明两点：一、自己跟自己比有进步。二、跟更好的比差距还很大。剩下只有一条：就是继续努力减少污染物排放，现在的排放量还是太大。”针对有网友提出的“WHO规定PM2.5安全指数为10”，杜少中回应称没听说过这个标准，北京昨日PM10以下(含PM2.5)的颗粒物是131。

　　杜少中表示，前些年本市监测并公布的是粒径在100微米以下的总悬浮颗粒物，后来改为10微米以下的可吸入颗粒物，即PM10，今后肯定还会监测并公布PM2.5甚至是PM1。“但必须记住的是，这些改变唯一的根据是我们中国、我们北京自己大气污染防治不断深入发展的需要，而不是看哪个大使馆在干什么。”

　　设点不同数据有差异

　　2008年春天，美国驻华使馆在自己的一栋使馆大楼上建立了空气监测站，它专门监测使馆所在的朝阳区空气中可深入肺部的悬浮颗粒(PM2.5)的数据，每小时发布一次。美国驻华使馆新闻发言人史雯珊此前在接受媒体采访时表示，由于大使馆和北京环保部门的监测范围和监测对象皆有不同，“因此，大使馆公布的与北京官方公布的数值没有可比性。”

　　记者了解到，设立空气监测的站点需要在整个区域具备代表性，且50米内不能有污染源，否则将严重影响监测结果。但美国大使馆所在地区交通繁忙、人流密集，而北京市环保局的空气质量监测点不仅分布于市区繁忙街区，也分布于郊区，其公布的数据代表了全市整体水平。

　　气象科学研究院研究员周凌唏曾指出，“我国的空气监测站都是根据一系列科学标准建立且均匀分布的，即便一个区域内也要设立多个站点。美国使馆所测数据不代表北京地区整体水平，甚至无法代表朝阳区一个区的空气质量。”

　　晨报记者吴亭

　　■名词解释

　　何为PM10、PM2.5？

　　根据环保部今年发布的《环境空气PM10和PM2.5的测定重量法》，悬浮在空气中，直径在100微米以下的颗粒物，称为总悬浮颗粒物，是我国大气污染的主要指标。其中，对人体危害最大的是直径小于10微米的浮游状颗粒物，即可吸入颗粒物。直径小于等于10微米的可吸入颗粒物被称为PM10，直径小于等于2.5微米的称为PM2.5，又称细颗粒物。国际上主要发达国家以及亚洲的日本、泰国、印度等均将PM2.5列入空气质量标准。目前，PM2.5尚未列入我国环境空气质量指标。

来源：北京晨报

打喷嚏链接：http://www.dapenti.com/blog/more.asp?name=xilei&id=52501

In China, 'Time Is Not Ripe' for Honest Air Pollution Readings

2011-11-03T21:44:00.000-07:00

In China, 'Time Is Not Ripe' for Honest Air Pollution Readings: As noted in two previous reports on the recent air-quality emergency in China, the Chinese government still does not provide any data on the most damaging form of air pollution, the small particulates called "PM 2.5." The only public readings of PM 2.5 levels come from a monitor on the roof of the US Embassy in Beijing. The Chinese government has complained about the existence of this site, although it has recently indicated that it might start providing its own measures too.

Here's a NASA map of satellite readings of average PM2.5 levels from 2001-2006 around the world. The high levels over the Sahara and the Arabian peninsula are mainly dust. Those in eastern China are mainly from coal-burning power plants and other industrial emissions.

Just now a reader in China sends in this update:

As a runner living in Beijing, I follow the American AQI as my one-and-only guide to outdoor activity, and as you know, it's the only public source for PM2.5 data in the city. I am very thankful for this service. I have recently joined Weibo [China's counterpart to Twitter], and over the last week of so-called "fog," I discovered many Chinese users were sending around screenshots of the American embassy statistics. The opportunity for public sharing provided by Weibo is a story in and of itself.

But I write you to bring attention to some Chinese sources. Specifically, recent media developments I've noticed since this morning (I'm just getting off work).

From the Nov 1 statement by Du Shaozhong's: "China's air quality should not be judged from data released by foreign embassies in Beijing"

To a segment on CCTV this morning where they explain China's current standard and the CEPA [Chinese EPA] interviewee states that China will change its standard as its national character changes. (link to Chinese broadcast here, screen shot below) New policies perhaps will include PM2.5 before the end of the year. Seems the EPA is in an explanatory posture, at best.

This all lead me to look up more in the Chinese media. A very critical piece was released by a Li Long from Guangzhou Daily (the mouthpiece of the Guangzhou municipal party).

In this article, the journalist interviews an anonymous source at the Chinese EPA. The main points of his article are as follows:
Beijing and Shanghai already measure PM2.5 levels
These figures are not released because "the time is not ripe" "时机不成熟"
Why is the time not right? The anonymous source states the reason:
"如果制定实施PM2.5的环境空气质量标准，各地将大范围超标"。
If we were required to implement PM2.5 air quality standards, many places would exceed standards by a large margin"
Journalists judgement of this practice:
这只是自欺欺人的选择性失明。
This is pure self-deception, selective blindness.

Take-home points for now:
- This is really a big problem for China, which the government is beginning to grapple with;
- There is much more internal protest and contention about the government's "selective blindness" on environmental issues than outsiders usually recognize. Good for the Chinese journalists, scientists, citizens, and some government officials pushing for change.

Lyric Hughes Hale: China's 99% -- Why China Will Not Surpass the U.S.

2011-11-03T21:39:00.000-07:00

Lyric Hughes Hale: China's 99% -- Why China Will Not Surpass the U.S.: As China is transitioning to become a full member of the world community from which it was entirely separated just forty years ago, we have perhaps seen the end of Chinese rather than American exceptionalism.
Read More...

More on China

中国留美学生面临三大困境

2011-11-03T21:33:00.000-07:00

中国留美学生面临三大困境:

《纽约时报》今日登载了一篇长文，《中国谜》（The China Conundrum), 讲述中国留学生在美国的适应问题。其作者Karin Fischer写作此文中曾采访过我，我跟她聊了很久，说到中美学习习惯的差异。当然其中她的陈述中我发觉也有不少以讹传讹的偏见，我也希望给纠正过来，但是中国学生存在的毛病也不需要去掩饰。谈话后，我想我毕竟不是招生官员，不过是一个课程设计师，不好越位，所以跟她推荐了我们学校国际留学生办，让她去采访其主任John。

文中没有直接引述我的观点，但是Karin后来的播客中，所讲述的话题多半是我们采访中所讲的内容。《纽约时报》文章登出后，John说他马上又收到了Bloomberg News的采访，打听我们学校的中国学生状况，John说我“开始了一个连锁反应”。

而我耿耿于怀的，是《纽约时报》的文章对我的观点只字未提，使得我跟女儿没法交代。上次和Karin聊天后，我跟她说：“今天有家报纸采访我。”她问：“是不是《纽约时报》？”当时我只知道是Chronicle of Higher Ed, 所以说：“不是。”她说：“那你就别跟我说了。”所以我还是没法跟她提。

好在这些被遗漏的内容，我曾撰文给《中国教育报》，在这里登了出来，在此感谢《中国教育报》。

又，北京教育者Jiang Xueqin针对纽约时报The China Conundrum中提到的中国留学生在托福等考试上高分低能，而推荐信和申请材料又常有造假的现象，提出面试中国学生（含电话面试），比如在面试中问学生喜欢哪部小说，认同其中什么角色，以此测试学生的同理心、想象力和坚韧不拔的精神，这会对以后的留学申请产生很大的影响，请有兴趣的读者关注这篇文章。

* * *

10月14日晚，在上海2666图书馆，我出席了一场关于拙著《知识不是力量》的座谈会。有读者问我：基础教育是很多家长的心病。很多家长考虑移民国外，问我怎么看？

当时我回答，环境固然重要，但家长的心态也重要。在美国，也有很多华人家长相互攀比，孩子学习习惯和负担和国内一样。我有一友，在马里兰州。那里学区很好，竞争激烈，不亚于中国。有次他去看脊椎医生，医生说有很多小病人是父母来自中国等亚洲国家的小孩。家长对他们“推”得很厉害，大家相互攀比的恶习犹存，小孩负担很重。在美国一些好学区，华人聚居密集，不但二奶村洗脚屋兴建起来了，形形色色课后辅导班也一应俱全。这些家长不能有效了解孩子不同阶段的喜好、特长和精力，盲目跟风。换个环境也是白换，因为最终也只是新瓶装旧酒，把中国的日子搬到美国来过。

我在《知识不是力量》一书里，希望通过案例和故事，对比这种过程的不同，我希望此书能被基础教育工作者看到，激发大家思考，想想我们的教育过程如何变好。

笼统说来，中国注重知识基础，美国侧重布鲁姆知识分类论中“分析、应用、综合、评估”等“高端”认知技能。多年下来，两国基础教育在结果上已经产生了重大差异。

最能说明这个结果差异的，是基础教育阶段的“产品”—— 刚进校的大学生。我们不妨以一次调研为例，说明中国学生在基础教育阶段真正欠缺的“营养”。

林登教育服务公司顾问德波拉·赫弗容女士，向美国对华招生官员发出了一份调查问卷，让他们列举中国学生到美国后所面临的挑战。调查发现，刚从基础教育阶段出来不久的中国学生面临三大问题。

第一是缺乏被美国人接受的学习能力。其中最大的问题是诚信。很多受调查者认为中国学生来美国后，对于学业上的诚信缺乏起码的认识，不知犯规的后果。很多学生在抄袭的时候，都没有意识到自己的不诚实。在学习风格上，这些招生官员发现，中国学生“来自一个强调死记硬背的系统”，不对老师提出质疑，也难以和教师在课堂外互动。大部分学生欠缺“批判性分析”的能力，只想“听教授讲课，寻找‘正确’答案，而不是针对问题，思考不同的解决方案。”在测试上，中国学生偏向“考试”，难以适应美国学校不同的测评方式，如小组一起做“项目”，做展示。我们自以为中国学生学习好，这只是一个笼统概念，语焉不详。笔者在美国从事教育设计，和老师天天打交道。很多老师其实私下对中国学生的习惯和后劲颇有看法，只是害怕种族歧视的嫌疑，不好明说。

第二个大问题是语言障碍。中国学生重考试轻学习，在英语学习上大部分是在托福、GRE等考试上下功夫。美国大学阅读量、写作量非常大，标准化考试未必能给学生充分准备。有一些学生来美国之后，学校要求学语言课程。但是有官员表示“中国学生面临家长、朋友和传统文化上的压力，急需成功”，往往不屑于学语言，而希望早日进入“正规”学习。语言关没有过，好习惯没养成，后面学得很痛苦。很多学生认为英语不过是一个工具，差不多就行。有个招生官员一语道破天机：这些语言技能欠缺的学生“无法和当地社区的各种人有效交往，各种社会关系只能停留在表面”。在美国社会里，语言的运用技能，将决定你在这个社会能走多远。有时语言对人发展的重要性不亚于专业成就。

这种短视不限于语言。有官员表示，中国学生，尤其是研究生，对找工作的关注远远超过专业学习。很多中国学生的长远规划就是找个好工作，连专业都不过是工具，缺乏对所学专业的热情。与之相比，不少美国学生则更有热情和朝气，学就像个样子学，希望能在学成之后去“改变世界”。

第三大问题是人际障碍。很多小留学生在基础教育阶段，有家长在生活上百般照顾，学校也只管知识长进，无论在家在学校，都缺乏必要的独立生活能力。到美国后，有的连“基本生存技能都欠缺”。比如怎么找房子、签合同，小留学生们一筹莫展。赫弗容女士称之为“独生子女综合症”。她觉得老留学生一般比较刻苦，比较尊重人，新来小留学生则有着完全不同的经历和社会预期。有位招生官员甚至表示，很多小留学生还是希望用中国方式解决问题，如走后门、找关系、送礼等。美国学生多半知道，规则就是规则，少有讨价还价的空间，很少在这方面浪费时间。在交往上，很多留学生困在自己的小圈子里，朋友多半还是中国的一班朋友。另外，随着中国留学生的增多，学生之间开始论资排辈，早来的跟新来的摆老资格，欺负后来的学生，相互之间传播流言等等。结果搅浑了中国留学生的一潭水，也无法和其他族群相处。如上所言，他们和家长，不过是试图把中国日子搬到美国来过。这样移民了也是白移，也不能接触到新文化环境中真正的精髓，而是在美国的环境里，给自己造了个大气泡，生活在里面。和美国人交流很少，除非是见面嘻嘻哈哈说说天气聊聊篮球橄榄球。

反过来，我回国时看到，国内不少开明的家长，把孩子的教育管理得非常好。所以不要事事怪罪大环境，具体家庭和学校的小环境对于人的造就更为“给力”。

调查说的都是“知识之外”中国学生的乏力之处。没人赞叹中国学生那传说中的知识丰富基础扎实。在国内，一提应试教育，家长就条件反射地去想到他们想象里的素质教育，如钢琴书法琵琶跆拳道，不断加增学生认知和身体的负荷，在知识品种和数量上做文章，不去帮助学生培养出持续学习的习惯和个性化发展的路子。但愿教育界诸位多多努力，弥补调查中暴露的欠缺，如学习能力（创意、批判性思考、分析、运用能力等）、学习心态（对学科的热爱，改造世界的情怀），品格和生活教育（应对生活问题，人际交往）等。变革向来不易，但我们还打算耽误孩子多久呢？

作者南桥，在美国高校从事教育设计工作，也是多家报刊教育话题的专栏作者，其新作《知识不是力量》最近由华东师范大学出版社出版。

《中国教育报》2011年11月3日

Shanghai activist grandmother sentenced to 3 1/2 years

2011-11-02T21:52:00.000-07:00

Shanghai activist grandmother sentenced to 3 1/2 years: A grandmother in Shanghai who has campaigned for more financial support for elderly veterans has been jailed for three-and-a-half years.

Zhang Weiming, 65, has fought for eight years for the rights of 100,000 Shanghainese who were sent in the 1960s by Chairman Mao to the deserts of Xinjiang, on the other side of China, to boost the country's agricultural workforce.

As many as 30,000 of them, including Mrs Zhang, spent over three decades in the countryside, earning a pittance by working in the fields or on construction sites. When they returned home to Shanghai they found the city had left them behind and they could not afford the cost of living.

For eight years, Mrs Zhang campaigned to restore their full rights, as Shanghainese citizens, to pensions, medical care and housing.

On Wednesday, however, she was jailed on the charge of "organising a crowd to create a disturbance".

"The Shanghai government has already recognised that the workers who came back from Xinjiang are some of the most disadvantaged members of society," said her son, Xie Jun, 37.

"Many of them have not been registered back in Shanghai by the authorities or had their accommodation problems solved. My mother stood up for them. She has helped as many as 500 people. So bit by bit she became a thorn in the side of the government," he added.

Mrs Zhang was elected as an unofficial leader by the thousands of returnees, presiding over a council of delegates representing each of the different platoons of workers.

However, in April, the Shanghai police came to her house to arrest her. "On the day she was taken my father went out early to take out the rubbish," said Mr Xie.

"He saw a car filled with people outside, which was odd because it was so early. They told him they wanted to have a talk with my mother. This had happened before, when city officials wanted to discuss the situation with her, so she dressed and left. That was the last we saw of her," he added.

Mrs Zhang and her husband met while performing for an entertainment troupe in Xinjiang. "My father was not brave enough to approach her because he was from a family of landlords and was a class enemy," said Mr Xie. "My mother would spend all day picking cotton, and my sister and I never saw her at the breakfast table. We would cook dinner and take it to her in the field. She was very strong and always wanted to do more work," he said.

Life in Xinjiang was hard enough that one family friend agreed to eat a live rat as a bet in order to win rice coupons, he added.

On Tuesday, some 200 policemen had to put down a mass protest among 300 of Mrs Zhang's supporters, all of whom had spent their lives in the desert as a result of Chairman Mao's policies.

Mr Xie said the verdict had taken the family by surprise. "Previously, the judge had asked her if she would stop campaigning if she was released. That gave us the wrong signal," he said.

"I do not know what my father will do without her, because he relies on her heavily. He told me that when the verdict was read his mind went blank and he had no idea what was going on."

一只叫萨克斯风的破鞋

2011-11-02T21:48:00.000-07:00

一只叫萨克斯风的破鞋: 我小时候在新疆，特别喜欢看抓破鞋。因为相比于其他各种类型的坏人，搞破鞋的貌似长得好看些，也不像其他坏人被抓斗时尽说些很艰深的事情，破鞋说的通俗易懂。......>>点击查看新浪博客原文

我小时候在新疆，特别喜欢看抓破鞋。因为相比于其他各种类型的坏人，搞破鞋的貌似长得好看些，也不像其他坏人被抓斗时尽说些很艰深的事情，破鞋说的通俗易懂。那时哈密有个露天的“小河沟电影院”，河水从天山化解而下，清凉蜿蜒，两岸稀拉长着些胡杨，破鞋们就从电影院出发，脖子上挂着破鞋，成双成对沿着河岸被游行，边走边交待怎么搞上的破鞋、如何接头、如何亲嘴……剩下的就不许讲了，但仅仅这样，已让我觉得很是有趣。

那时对破鞋的定义不仅是奸夫淫妇，在野地里搞对象也算搞破鞋，因为搞对象就该在屋子里搞，野外搞，当然就是搞破鞋。有个姓安的小伙总是被抓，因为不仅喜欢在野外搞破鞋，还要吹着萨克斯风。虽然当时在新疆，用萨克斯风进行汇报演出不算搞破鞋，可在野外对着女人吹萨克斯风就是十足的搞破鞋。跟其他人不一样，交待到最后，姓安的常被工宣队的要求来一段萨克斯风，他会面带微笑，吹上一段，很好听。让我从小就觉得萨克斯风就等于搞破鞋，而搞破鞋其实是件挺美好的事情。

我只是一直不明白，为什么给领导汇报演出时吹萨克斯风不算搞破鞋，搞对象时吹萨克斯风就算搞破鞋。这个问题，我听那个姓安的小伙也问过，工宣队大概表达了这样的意思：萨克斯风是外国乐器，要是吹锁呐问题就小些（注：当时还没上演红高梁），总之领导听什么都没问题，因为领导更有社会主义道德。

前段时间，国家广电总局决定限制各卫视娱乐节目，我觉得“限娱”没有问题，问题在于为什么只限制19：30-22：00的娱乐节目，不限制 19：00-19：30的那档娱乐节目。那是一档看的人没当真、念的人没当真、写的人没当真、下命令的人更不当真，可大家集体假装很当真的样子且一当真就是几十年……的王牌娱乐节目。可现在的状况跟小时候很相像，工宣队与广电总局的逻辑也很一样：屋子里就是搞对象，野外就是搞破鞋；给领导汇报演出时吹萨克斯风不算搞破鞋，给对象吹萨克斯风就算搞破鞋……地面频道的不算娱乐，上了星就是娱乐，19：00-19：30不算娱乐，19：30-22：00就是低俗娱乐。

所以我国的事情一点没变，表面看在限娱，实际上还是在抓破鞋。

我常幻想，多年之后，天安门广场矗立起一座娱乐博物馆，盛况空前地记录着以下的抓破鞋：禁《流星花园》，限穿越剧，限网络音乐，限谍战剧，禁同性恋题材，声讨郭德纲，禁《蜗居》……这个国家太多的破鞋。我不解为什么要怕人民搞破鞋，其实让他们搞破鞋，就没精力搞破坏。竟听说八成群众纷纷支持限娱，表示“是该提升一下道德了”，哪天我一定要会会该名永远叫“八成”的群众，问他是不是“八戒”表亲。又听说文化部为避免暴力提升道德，决定推出“绿色游戏”，我好奇绿色游戏里的悟空是否不可拿金箍棒，只可拿祥云火炬……大家知道最近我国又很爱谈道德了，因为佛山两岁女孩被反复辗压十八路人却漠然置之，让长期在 19：00-19：30里群HI的礼仪之邦很难堪。总得找出原因，却不能说是官德倒退让民德倒退，所以找来找去，终于在司机、路人、家长之外找到娱乐这个大破鞋。

抓娱乐这大破鞋符合这里一惯的政治逻辑。早年的《海瑞罢官》掀起文革，前两年中国音协声讨过低俗音乐，有个老同志痛心疾首：我很担心自己的孙子孙女，他们现在十多岁，很容易灵魂就受到网络低俗音乐的污染，很担心等他们成为社会中坚力量时这些恶劣影响还在。可并没见有谁受低俗音乐污染，因为这么轻易就污染，它就不是音乐，是原子弹。

把道德下降归罪于娱乐，这可太娱乐了；说娱乐败坏了道德，这本身就不道德。港台的娱乐就低俗，可没有七十码、地沟油和见死不救，人家买东西好好排队，保钓却也冲到最前头。至于领导说的高雅艺术以提升道德，我对这个可真是很怀疑。我还记得《辛德勒名单》有个情节：屠城的那个晚上，犹太人纷纷躲藏在楼梯间、墙体夹层。纳粹军就用听诊器去听墙体里有没有呼吸声。有个犹太人不小心碰到了钢琴，士兵们发疯般冲上楼去一通扫射，从而掀开了第二次屠杀的序幕。可在机关枪声、惨叫声中，长夜里忽然响起一阵悦耳的钢琴声，很优秀的琴声，流畅而激昂，有一种巴赫式的宗教宁静。两个士兵被琴声吸引，竟在门边讨论，一个说：是巴赫。另一个说：不，是莫扎特……我一直以为这是视死如归的犹太艺术家临终的演奏，可画面摇起，一个表情肃穆的纳粹军官，一个高雅艺术的爱好者。

纳粹军队可谓二战时期音乐素养最高的一支军队，希特勒和戈培尔都曾强力在军队推行高雅艺术。希特勒本人是瓦格纳的粉丝，德国空军轰炸伦敦前大多要听贝多芬《第三交响曲》，奥斯威辛集中营司令官克拉麦杀人时甚至要听舒曼的梦幻曲……可见高雅艺术提升道德是个伪概念，艺术欣赏力跟杀不杀人并没关系。否则以后监狱里不安狱警，安装一水儿的高保真黑胶唱机，罪犯也不越狱了。大街上要碰到绑匪，直接播出《众神的黄昏》，一听感动得化了：哈里路亚，不能杀人了，去唱诗班吧。

当然要提升道德，可不要用抓破鞋的方法去提升道德，也可以抓破鞋，可不要一边抓破鞋一边自己在搞最大一只破鞋。希特勒、戈培尔当初就用抓破鞋手段摒弃一切低俗艺术，甚至一度禁止电台播放爵士乐，因为爵士乐来自美国，这多么低俗。后来虽然允许在舞厅里演奏爵士乐，但已是只能用小提琴和大提琴演奏“洁本”了。想像一下，用小提琴和大提琴演奏的爵士乐，就跟中国小脚老太太跳芭蕾一样古怪了，可希特勒认为，这样的艺术改造才能让帝国的意志更统一、更强大、更能忘记痛苦。

所以现在还呼吁“人民有低俗的权利”的朋友就很不上道了，此时我真切地政治敏感到这次祖国真是要推动限娱——道德——文化的一体化强国工程。表面上是在限娱乐，其实在抓破鞋，表面在提升道德，其实在统一思想，又不好意思给没头脑的刁民明说，绕了好大一个圈子，你看，我们很早就不方便谈政治了，后来也不好谈历史了，谈地理其实也是敏感瓷，现在连风月都开始不许谈了，所以只好谈谈道德。限娱乐是为了抓破鞋、抓破鞋为了促道德、促道德必然结果是，建成一个正确的文化体系……

是该社会主义文艺复兴的时候了，像美国那么没道德的国家都能成文化大国，有道德的我们更是前程远大。虽然我们没有一个好大学，没有一部好电影，没有一个好作家，没有一个好博物馆，没有一档好电视节目，没有一个真实历史……但必须指出，我们有论语心得，有建党伟业，有孔子学院，有大爱无疆，有 19：00-19：30，还有西门庆故居。虽然我们报刊杂志不太说真话，但印刷品数量是全球第一。虽然我们出版审查是严了一点，但实在不行，还可以出手抄本。虽然我们有个别无德贪官，但贪污几千万的十大品牌市长李启红“还是有很多好的品质，骨子里无比热爱党”。虽然我们的舆论监督遇到些问题，可监督舆论从来不是问题，你看前面我那篇文章，虽然只有一个标点符号，却能有三十多万点击率，这才叫传媒大国、文化强国，这才叫软实力，名副其实。

最后一个故事，是文章写到这里时发现Richard Overy介绍的：“上世纪三十年代早期，苏联视爵士乐为一种文化颠覆，跳爵士舞，也作为堕落的资产阶级生活方式。可是低俗堕落的资产阶级生活方式实在诱惑太大了，官方不得不让步，成立国营爵士乐团，但只允许演奏旋律柔和的舞厅曲目，或是改编自俄罗斯民歌的音乐。一九四五年以降，爵士乐因为冷战头号敌人美帝国主义，更是罪加一等。到了一九四九年，苏联萨克斯风的生产与销售皆为非法”。

让我们最后一次谈谈风月吧，原来老大哥早就抓获了一只叫萨克斯风的破鞋。一只叫萨克斯风的破鞋，一个叫李启红的道德，一档19：00-19：30的王牌娱乐，一个只剩下标点的文化。

10大变态问题，考研你的头脑。

2011-11-02T21:47:00.000-07:00

10大变态问题，考研你的头脑。:
1）企鹅肉

问：一个男科学家回忆说：他和他的妻子去南极考察，但是他中途中了雪盲，什么都看不到。所以他们在南极游荡，最后只能生吃企鹅来维持生命。但是他妻子最后还是没有挺住，最后死了。他一个人继续走了一天，最后被救了回去。第二天他特意去企鹅店吃企鹅，但是回来后竟然自杀了。为什么？

2）跳火车

问：一个人坐火车去临镇看病，看完之后病全好了。回来的路上火车经过一个隧道，这个人就跳车自杀了。为什么？

3）水草

问：有个男孩跟他女友去河边散步。突然他的女友掉进河里了，那个男孩就急忙跳到水里去找，可没找到他的女友，他伤心的离开了这里。过了几年后，他故地重游，这时看到有个老人在钓鱼，可那老人钓上来的鱼身上没有水草，他就问那老人为什么鱼身上没有沾到一点水草，那老人说：这河从没有长过水草。说到这时，那男孩突然跳到水里自杀了。为什么？

4）葬礼的故事

问：有母女三人，母亲死了，姐妹俩去参加葬礼。妹妹在葬礼上遇见了一个很有型的男子，并对他一见倾心。会到家后，妹妹把姐姐杀了。为什么？

5）半根火柴

问：有一个人在沙漠中，头朝下死了，身边散落著几个行李箱子，而这个人手里紧抓著半个火柴。推理这个人是怎么死的？

6）满地木屑

问：马戏团里有两个侏儒，瞎子侏儒比另一个侏儒矮。马戏团只需要一个侏儒，马戏团的侏儒当然是越矮越好了。两个侏儒决定比谁的个子矮，个子高的就去自杀。可是，在约定比个子的前一天，瞎子侏儒，也就是那个矮的侏儒已经在家里自杀死了。在他的家里只发现木头做的家具和满地的木屑。他为什么自杀？

7）夜半敲门

问：一个人住在山顶的小屋里，半夜听见有敲门的，他打开门却没有人，于是去睡了。等了一会又有敲门声，去开门，还是没人，如是者几次。第二天，有人在山脚下发现死尸一具，警察来把山顶的那人带走了。为什么？

8）牛吃草

问：有一个年轻的男人，他的房子和邻居夫妇的房子中间隔着一片草坪。有一天深夜，男人被隔壁的吵架声吵醒，之后他又听到了摔东西声、砍斧子声和牛吃草的声音，过了一会，他又听到了有人撞他家门的声音，但他都没有理会，又睡了过去。第二天，他发现隔壁的女主人惨死在他家门口。推理其过程。

9）无故的自杀

问：一个下雨的夜晚．一个男子驾着车在自己车里听广播．这时广播里正在播出．由于当晚风强雨大．一架飞机失事的消息．这名男子正在认真听的时候，突然远处一阵雷声加闪电．广播由于干扰，停暂了几秒．就在广播快要恢复正常的时候，这名男子突然跳车自杀了．为什么？

10）失事的飞机

问：一名大厦管理人员．当天晚上由于疏忽把大厦楼顶的探照灯熄灭了．第二天．他看到报子上报道说，昨晚一架飞机撞楼失事．被撞到的楼正好是他所在的公司大楼．当他看到这则新闻后，他以最快的速度跑到大厦顶楼，随后就跳楼死了．为什么？

格调不高怎么办

2011-11-02T21:45:00.000-07:00

格调不高怎么办: 自从《脱节的国度》不见了以后，一直都未写东西。因为我着实是一个写的不勤奋的人，每次写完，隔日不见，真的扫兴，而且国家部门繁多，就算宣传部门和新闻出版......>>点击查看新浪博客原文

自从《脱节的国度》不见了以后，一直都未写东西。因为我着实是一个写的不勤奋的人，每次写完，隔日不见，真的扫兴，而且国家部门繁多，就算宣传部门和新闻出版部门觉得没问题，所有配备了帕萨特以上公务车的部门也都可以一个电话把你文章删了。其中最仁慈的反而是某地方的公安部门，08年有一天我写了一篇文章，事隔一年多，他们删除了这篇文章。难怪大家都说公安出警慢。没错。删文章的地方太多了，就不知道该怎么下笔了。

从事了这个工作大概十三年，我发现文化工作者在地位上真是一个特别下三滥特别窝囊废的工种。这个工种所出产的作品由于受到诸多的限制，所以肯定没有那么奇特的经历更加精彩。我来说一些小故事。

在中国的出版行业，其实是没有官方的审查的。大家都应该觉得很奇怪，因为这违背了常识。但是可以告诉大家，出版行业的确没有审查。这是因为中国每年要出几十万本书，实在审查不过来。而且我相信管那些读书人的同志大部分都不爱读书，所以图书审查其实一直由出版社独立完成。

但是这样一来岂不是百花齐放了。当然不是。比较专业的说，这叫事后审查制。事后审查制其实要比事前审查制更加紧，杀伤力和副作用更大。这点用过事后避孕药的朋友肯定深有感触。

只有拥有书号才能出版，只有出版社才能发书号，只有官方才能有出版社，所以从源头上，自由的出版其实是不可能的。而由于大量的国有出版社能力不济，很多民营文化公司开始运营图书出版。出版的方式就是合作出版或者从出版社那里购买一些书号。但这依然不能改变出版现状，因为出版社依然是终审方。而一本书如果不让出版，在以往理由是反革命，后来反革命这个词不太出现了，因为反革命既然是不好的，那岂不成了鼓励革命。而官方认为，革命工作已经完成，所以既不能反革命，也不能革命，群众最好的生活方式就是呆着。于是现在不能出版的理由就是格调不高。我第一本书《三重门》就是因为格调不高，迟迟不能出版。格调不高是致命的，因为文笔太差可以改，逻辑不清可以理，唯独格调不高让人头疼，你也不知道怎么能让自己的格调提高一点。你问他什么是格调，他也不知道。一直到现在，我才明白了，格调其实就是割掉的意思，格调不高就是割掉的不够高，你以为象征性的把脚底板的老茧磨磨平就能从事文化行业了么，你要割掉的够高。凡是保留腰以下部分的，从事文化行业明显还是会显得雄性气息太浓厚。

我是一直饱受审查之苦的。但在格调稍微高了一点以后，我还是侥幸可以出版图书，并且因为图书的畅销，有的时候还稍微可以在小问题和出版方争取格调稍微降低一点。每次写作前，我都要进行一次自我审查。也许很多没有从事过这个行业的朋友会觉得我们这样做特别怂，不够MAN。比如当年《独唱团》出版前遇到很多的困难，一些朋友看不下去了，说你太娘们了，这要是我，不要书号了，直接拿到印刷厂去，印个几十万本，这就开卖了。我欣赏这位朋友的没有格调，但他们不知道印刷厂只有收到了出版社开具的委托印刷单以后才能开机印刷，否则你非但印不了一本，人家就报警了。其次就算你爹开了一个印刷厂，你印刷出了几十万本，你没有书号，就没有一家书店和报刊亭是会进你的货的。连卖盗版的都不敢帮你卖。也许这位朋友会说，那我就放到网上去，在淘宝卖。那我告诉你，在淘宝销售图书，首先你得拥有资质，其次你不能随手拍一个封面就上架了，你必须输入书号，当系统把你输入的书号和书名对应起来，你才能上架。

所以一直到今天，所有的文化人都在进行着痛苦的自我审查。那我们能否指望出版社突然格调降低呢，这当然也不可能，一旦出版社有格调降低的迹象，由于都是国有单位，官方再指派一个社长过去就是。而那些格调降低的同志就可以去妇联残联养养老。事后审查制最恐怖一环在于惩罚，就是我不管你，但你要是出版了什么幺蛾子，我罚死你。轻则撤职撤社，重则投进大牢，所以你看着办吧。

至于我本人，虽然每一篇文章都经过了自我审查和阉割，但有的时候难免也会出现阉割的形状不符合认证的情况。这个和每个出版社的紧张程度有关系。比如我最新的小说就被枪毙了，因为新小说里的主人公姓胡，虽然我才写了五千字，但是出版社认为这必然是有政治隐喻的。当我明白了要避讳的时候再改姓已经晚了。但避讳要记住勿忘前朝，我还有一篇小说中，因为出现了“江河湖海”四个字，被更直接的枪毙了。如果说之前我犯了错误的话，那这一个就是两倍的错误。连我都不能原谅我自己，明知道惹不起，怎么连躲都没躲利索呢。

我不知道一个文化人提笔就哆嗦的国家怎么能建设成文化强国，一个因为要避讳常委所以在谷歌上搜索不到李白的国家怎么能建设成文化强国。我不知道该怎么一个文化体制改革法，反正我只有一个愿望，就是韩正老师别再升官了，要不然我就搜不到我了。

谨以此文纪念一期被停的《独唱团》以及两期被停的《大方》。

mranti: RT @langzichn: 国内最大规模的辛亥革命讨论会，不仅学者要站着20分钟恭候省长照相，连吃饭都两种待遇，主席台上有茅台，下面的学者只能喝白云边。上面有大闸蟹，下面没有。革命了100年，连基本的平等都做不到，这个革命纪念它作甚。via 张鸣

2011-11-02T21:44:00.000-07:00

mranti: RT @langzichn: 国内最大规模的辛亥革命讨论会，不仅学者要站着20分钟恭候省长照相，连吃饭都两种待遇，主席台上有茅台，下面的学者只能喝白云边。上面有大闸蟹，下面没有。革命了100年，连基本的平等都做不到，这个革命纪念它作甚。via 张鸣

Wen Jiabao's family persecution: the history

2011-11-02T19:20:00.000-07:00

Wen Jiabao's family persecution: the history: The final years of the 1950s were an intensely turbulent time for China, as the initial euphoria over the Communist party's rise to power ebbed and its leaders struggled internally to set a path for the country.

Intellectuals, in particular, found it hard under the new regime. Many of them had either been trained in the West or had worked under the previous government, backgrounds which were now classified as "reactionary" or "feudal".

Most were keen to help the new Communist regime, and many underwent "revolutionary" retraining in order to understand their class backgrounds and embrace Marxism-Leninism.

It may have been during these sessions that Wen Jiabao's grandfather drafted his self-criticisms, in a bid to show his loyalty to the party.

It was also during this period that Chairman Mao announced what has become known as the "Let One Hundred Flowers Bloom" campaign, in which he called for intellectuals to voice their thoughts on modern China.

Those who were foolish enough to take him at his word soon found themselves targeted, however, as the party performed a u-turn and attacked them for disloyalty.

By 1960, when Wen Jiabao's father was purged, hundreds of thousands of other intellectuals had already been labelled as "rightists" and enemies of the state. Many were sent to labour camps or prison, and others banished to the countryside. In total, 550,000 people are thought to have suffered under the "Anti-Rightist Campaign".

Zhu Rongji, who would go on to become China's premier, was purged in 1958.

As Wen Jiabao's father was sent to a pig farm, China was contending with the disastrous aftermath of the Great Leap Forward, an agricultural experiment by Chairman Mao that resulted in the deaths of some 20 million Chinese in a mass famine.

At the same time, the Soviet Union, China's main ally, cut its ties, withdrawing hundreds of its engineers and experts and cancelling hundreds of contracts. That year, China's budget deficit stood at 8 billion yuan.

After Mao's death, many of the convictions were revoked and "rightist" labels were removed. However, discussion of the movement continues to be a taboo. In 2007, a book by Zhang Yihe, whose father was persecuted as a rightist, was banned.

青岛往事

2011-11-02T19:16:00.000-07:00

青岛往事:

收到一封陌生青年的来信，叙述了刚从校园步入社会所受的拒绝与打击。对于安慰人这件事，我比较在行，没有别的秘诀，无非告诉对方自己曾经更加沮丧、更加不堪、更加不走运。于是，我对他讲了一段青岛往事。

在一个成功学泛滥成灾的社会，直率地承认自己是个失败者，是个loser，是走向心理健康的重要一步。没错，大学毕业那年，在青岛，我曾是一个loser。

像所有满怀豪情的年轻人一样，我穿着泺口服装市场买来的廉价西装，打着外教赠送的比西装还贵的领带出现在青岛八大峡一家外贸公司的写字楼上。虽然是一个二流大学的实习生，但是我还是想给实习单位留下年轻、专业、大气、开放的良好印象。当一帮办公室的老油条围着我问：“你从哪儿来的？”我忽然灵机一动说：“贫僧来自东土大唐。”坏了，从此，我在这家公司有了一个外号：“大唐”。

实习的日子，是单调的日子，我们白天在海边的写字楼里跟白领同出同入，晚上回到学校安排的小旅馆改造的集体宿舍里。晚上业余生活不多，不敢多出门，因为一出门肯定花钱。有一天晚上，有一个三句话离不开性生活的男同学说，咱们去看刺激的电影吧。于是，我们一小撮人蹩进了一家电影院，看了一部新婚科教片。当巨大的性器官出现在屏幕上，我们才明白叶公好龙这句成语的真正内涵。当性病的特写出现的时候，大家不约而同感到胃部痉挛。从电影院逃回旅馆，那个无黄不谈的男生，一个礼拜没有提到性。

青岛的风景让人迷醉，青岛的姑娘让人心慌。在我实习的公司里，有一个绰约的姑娘，她的牛仔裤，在那一年的春天，画出一道美丽的弧线。她经常端着杯子飘然来到我和师傅的办公室，然后拖长声音说：“喝口水~~~~~~”。她喜欢听音乐，我是从她那里知道有一系列巨牛的磁带《音乐天堂》。

实习生没有工资，唯一的福利是中午偶尔可以跟着经理去撮一顿。有一次吃完海鲜，经理，一个平常挺严肃的中年男人对绰约姑娘和我说：“我觉得你跟大唐挺般配的。”我表面羞涩，心中暗爽。但这只是一个玩笑而已。

我爱青岛，更爱青岛小嫚，我想留在这个城市。当年，这是一个奢侈的梦想。因为我们那个时代就业的主要渠道还是毕业分配，虽然也部分放开了双向选择，谁都知道，对于好单位，好城市来说，永远只有单向选择。

我忘记了我只是一个初出茅庐的小小Loser，决定对经理表明我的愿望。经理听了我想毕业留在他们公司的想法后，先是一惊，然后很大度地说：“没问题，我接收你。你去活动吧，只要公司领导同意收你，我的部门就收你。”济南人管不成熟的傻逼叫“半青”，当年我就是这样的“半青”。我把这个当成一个好消息，马上电话告诉了家里，说经理已经同意要我了，你们能否找找关系，让公司把我收下。

父亲那时候只是一个普通教育工作者，所有的社会关系网不超出县教育局500米的辐射范围。但是为了满足儿子的野心，他还是通过无数转折关系，找到了以前在我们县任职、当时在青岛外经贸系统工作的一位老领导。

老领导一听这家外贸公司，当时就说不可能，能进这家公司要么是优秀毕业生，要么得是省市级领导的子女。不过，老领导念我父亲不易，乐意介绍另一家公司给我。这家公司的名字我还记得，叫凯远公司，这说明，我年轻时的挫折经历多么刻骨铭心。不过，老领导说，想进凯远，也必须通过严格的考试和面试。

我懵懵懂懂去了凯远公司，接见我的是一位低级别的经理。他给了我一份试卷，内容是外贸实务，等我做完之后，又用英语面试我。当时我的英语学习非常畸形，一方面成绩很一般，另一方面却读过十几本英文原著。不知道那天出了什么状况，我思维笨拙，结结巴巴，稀里糊涂败下阵来。几天之后，老领导很严肃地跟我父亲说，想不到你儿子的考试成绩这么差。父亲很失望地告诉我。我还觉得挺委屈，认为自己没发挥好，全然不知道，我实际上是一个loser.

我的青岛梦最终没有实现，以后的人生道路坎坎坷坷。我的同学们纷纷在青岛找到工作，班长带我第一次去吃肯德基，吃完，他告诉我，文明人是自己把托盘端到垃圾桶旁边的。我跟他做了一回文明人，并且把这个习惯保持至今。八大关，第二海滨浴场，对我来说，永远只是一个旅游地。没有海风吹在我脸上，没有小嫚的身影出现在我窗外。因为那时我是一个Loser，只有十多年之后，我才正视这一点。

素什么质

2011-11-02T01:22:00.000-07:00

素什么质:

《新世纪》

-－－－－－－

很多人可能都意识到，一些具有中国特色的词汇很难译成英文，比如“突击手”、“不折腾”、“精神文明”、“班子建设”……要是谁能译出“血染的风采”，那我简直想给他送一面锦旗。在此类词汇里，有一个就是“素质”。
“中国人素质低，所以中国不应当……”，这句话如此广为传播，以至于“素质”这个词前面少了“中国人”，后面少了“低”，“素质”这个词都显得缺胳膊少腿。但素质翻译成什么呢？译成“quality”似乎最合适，但仔细一想，如果把前面那句话译成“The quality of the Chinese people is low, so China should not..."，显然不合适，因为这句英文再译回中文，就成了“中国人的质量很低，所以中国不应当……”。这是赤裸裸的种族主义，肯定不是说这话的中国人的本意。
一个词很难译成其它语言，肯定有很多原因。可能的原因之一，就是这个词所指向的现象本身其实含糊不清。比如“素质”，什么叫素质呢？直觉的解释是“文化水平”。但是最新人口普查显示，中国文盲率现在只有4.08%，远低于世界平均水平。另一项2009年研究显示，中国18.3%的25-34岁人口拥有大专以上文化程度，高于捷克（15.5%）、土耳其（13.6%）、巴西（10%）等诸多民主国家。可见中国人的文化水平怎么也不算低。
如果“素质”指的不是文化水平。它还可能指什么？要不就是合作精神。据说中国人“一盘散沙”，这被视为中国人素质低的证明。社会科学里有个词叫“社会资本”，说的是人与人水平往来的粘性和密度。据一些学者论证，社会资本对于民主运转的意义，相当于机油对于机动车的意义。一盘散沙的社会，就是没有机油的机动车，开起来肯定稀里哗啦。
且不说后来有不少学者对“社会资本”的政治后果进行质疑，就算“社会资本”多多益善，又有不少研究者指出，其实中国的传统并不是一盘散沙。传统乡土社会有着细密的社会交往网络和自治传统。村里需要修个路通个渠，各家各户常常商量着集资解决；张三和李四闹个矛盾，族长或者乡绅往往根据村规给摆平……我在纽约的唐人街，看到已经离开故土上百年的中国社区，每到佳节还聚到一起舞个狮子敲敲锣鼓。所以很难说中国人基因里缺少凝聚力。
反倒是“全能国家”一登场，宗族、社团、庙会这些个“封建糟粕”被强拆，人们日趋原子化，政治成了唯一的粘合剂。至今强大的政治体制还抑制着社会资本的积累。“散沙们”想结合起来组织个农会，太敏感。工会，政府不是已经组织了吗？非政府组织？可以，但先得通过48道手续……所以中国社会散沙化不是强权的原因，而是其结果。如果我一边把你的腿铐住，一边说，看，你现在跑不起来吧，这证明了你没有跑步的能力，哦不，跑步的“素质”。这连“自我实现的预期”都算不上，这就是“自我证实的命令”。
素质要不就是指规则意识？中国人不爱排队，乱闯红灯……这些现象说明中国人素质差，所以中国民众需要“素质高”的精英群体给管束起来。成龙大哥所言“中国人是需要管的”，大约是这个意思。这些坏习惯我倒是深有感触，尤其是不爱排队这一项，有时我简直希望每个商场柜台前都能配备一名交警。
但我也去过港台，也见过人口同样密集的港台市民自觉排队。既然他们也是中国人，说明规则意识这种“素质”也不是一遇到中国人就发生排异反应。更重要的是，就算中国民众的规则意识不足，实在看不出这如何就能推导出集权体制的优越性。集权体制的隐含前提是，“素质低”的民众需要“素质高”的官员去教化管束，但是放眼官员的素质，不免叫人胆战心惊。今天打开一张报纸，我们看到在一个官员因为贪污几百万锒铛入狱；明天打开一张报纸，又看到另一个官员因为贪污几千万而锒铛入狱；今天点击一个网站，看到政府强拆逼得某人上访；明天再点击一个网站，看到政府拆迁又逼得另一个人自焚。当然此类官员也许不具有代表性，但此类故事层出不穷却是事实。这倒提醒了我们如何理解民众缺乏规则意识：如果“上面”经常在工程招标中玩内部交易、在土地纠纷中不尊重法律、公款吃喝屡禁不止……又怎么能指望“下面”毕恭毕敬尊重规则？一个随地大小便的人，如何教化别人不要随地吐痰?
所以就算中国人的“素质”有问题，它更多地是源于制度，虽然也恶化制度。我当然不相信制度的变革可以一夜之间改变文化，但是制度的变革至少可以打开一个公共生活的空间，而公民素养的培养首先需要一个公共空间，就象学会跑步需要首先解开脚镣。那些说“中国人素质低，所以中国不应该……”的人，也许可以考虑把这话改成“中国人素质低，所以中国更应该……”。

For Light, For Time

2011-11-02T00:43:00.000-07:00

For Light, For Time:

Cathy is a recent college graduate who tweets here. If you want something translated on ChinaHush, or give her a job, email her at xiaosongbird [at] gmail [dot] com.

On October 16th, a group of five friends attempted to visit Chen Guangcheng, a Chinese activist who is currently under house arrest in Dong Shigu Village. This is the event that followed. By Murong Xuecun Translated by Cathy

One

On the evening of October 14^th, I was lecturing at the University of Qingdao Haiyang. During question time, a student asked me, “Will you try to go see Chen Guangcheng?” Taken off guard, I spent the next few minutes mumbling something, without answering whether I was going, or not going. My ambivalence embarrassed me. I’d defended Chen Guangcheng once on Weibo but it was a trivial and superficial expression of solidarity. Right now, he is sitting alone in a dark cell. I’m sitting in a bright room sipping a cup of coffee.

Some people say that Chen Guangcheng’s encounter with the government is our own encounter with the government, so to visit him is to visit ourselves, our better selves. But at the time, I couldn’t decide whether or not I wanted to go see him. I had my worries. I made my own petty calculations. I didn’t want my books to get banned. I didn’t want to become a “sensitive topic.” I’d been invited to lecture in several countries. Most importantly, I was scared. I’m scared of pain, scared of getting beaten, scared of losing my freedom. Some people might feel that I’m being dramatic. It’s just paying someone a visit, right? That’s a normal person’s normal logic. But in this abnormal world, the spectacle of visiting one’s friend is indeed this dramatic. I don’t want to make excuses for my weakness. I live in this kind of world and I carry with me the deep knowledge that freedom is precious, even if it’s a hopeless kind of freedom, the kind that exists only through cracks. Once I told a story I called “The Prisoner and the Bone.” A prisoner on death-row is thrown a bone, and is willing to kneel on the ground with that bone until he dies. I was that prisoner, kneeling on the ground and licking that bone. For a little fame, some benefits, a little protection.

A couple hours after the lecture I saw Wang Xiaoshan at Qingdao’s Grand Theatre. We started talking about Chen Guangcheng. He said, “We all owe him our moral duty.” I agreed, but I still hadn’t made up my mind whether or not I was going to go see him. Neither had Xiaoshan. I felt awkward, and was sure he felt the same way.

The next afternoon I had lunch with Xiaoshan, Enchao, Zhongqiang and Miss Nuola. We hit it off right away, and somewhere during our meal, we decided to go to Linyi, to Dong Shigu, to visit that tormented yet fearless hero. I was chicken, and needed a lot of encouragement from the others. We objected to Miss Nuola’s insistence on coming—she’s slight and delicate and physically didn’t look up to the trip. But she was unrelenting, “You can go but I can’t? If you don’t take me, I’ll find a way and go alone!” Zhongqiang brought up Liu Shasha, arguing that women shouldn’t involve themselves with something this dangerous. Dong Shigu stands at a time thousands of years away from us, they could easily pull something dirty, punch us in the head, kick us in the nuts, rob us, frisk us! Nuola was unmoved, “I’m not scared! Anyway, I’m going, with or without you guys!” The scene got awkward, and lightheartedly I interjected, “O.K, O.K! Let’s just all go! It’s just threat and danger right? What’s the big deal? It’s not as if they’re going to throw rocks at eggs.” Nuola’s eyes brightened, “Exactly! It’s not as if they’re going to throw rocks at eggs.”

Zuo Yeben got a van for us, and helped us plan our trip. To prevent the unexpected, Wang Xiaoshan and I left our wallets and credit cards with our friend Yang Ruichun. We took our IDs and some cash. We mulled over the prospect of going to a backwards time. Inside, each of us tried to give ourselves a pep talk: The worst thing that can happen is that you get a beating. Don’t be scared.

The car came an hour later. Zhongqiang said, “We need prepare ourselves for the possibility of a beating. Expect to get hurt and to be put into detention. Enchao added, “And be prepared for the possibility of getting things shoved up our asses.” I joked, “And be prepared to like that feeling. Be prepared to wind up chasing that feeling for the rest of your lives.” The things we said were very crass, but funny. We all laughed.

We entered Lingyi at dusk. The city was shining. There were ads everywhere extolling “The Grand Beauty of Lingyi,” “The Culture of Lingyi,” “Lingyi Lifestyle.” A large screen broadcasted the words “A Civilized People Create a Civilized City.” I thought about Chen Guangcheng, and couldn’t help but feel that this city had its own brand of black humor.

We booked three rooms at a hotel in the center of the city. Nuola slept in one room by herself. Xiaoshan and I roomed together in room 1310; Enchao and Zhongqiang roomed together in room 1317. Out of the four men, Enchao and Zhongqiang have their names blacklisted on the internet. Afraid that someone on the staff might search their names, we decided to use Xiaoshan’s and my I.D to register (Both of us use pen names. His name is Han Chunsan. My name is Hao Qun.) The middle aged man registering us would not stop staring at me.

We ate dinner at the hotel’s restaurant on the 17^th floor. We ordered local dishes: Baniupang，Bansanqi，a pot of chicken soup, and Enchao’s favorite shredded potato. Perhaps because we were all tired, and perhaps due to nerves, Xiaoshan and Enchao, who are normally lushes, drank very little.

After dinner we returned to room 1310 to discuss our plans. Enchao suggested that we bring pieces of paper with us before entering Dong Shigu. The writing on the paper would say:

Guangcheng, the farthest distance in the world isn’t between life and death, but from the gate of the village to your house.

Xiaoshan and I objected. We were just going to see a friend. That is normal behavior, and we didn’t need to make it so grand. On the internet we’d received news that Hu Chenchen’s “21 People” were coming to protest at the gate of Dong Shigu the next day. Zhongqiang asked if we wanted to get together with them. Xiaoshan shook his head, who knew whether there’d a be mole among those 21 people. Plus, we were just going to visit a friend, there was no need to make noise.

Feeling heavy in the dead of the night we came to the agreement that no matter what, we would not raise our fists in retaliation. If they beat us, we’d bear the beating. If they beat us too much, we’d run. If we couldn’t run, we’d leave it up to fate. Some people accuse us of doing all this for show, but at the time, we really did prepare ourselves, prepared to bleed, prepared to suffer pain. We just wanted to verify what it takes in this country, at this time, to visit an imprisoned “free man.” But it was not until the end that we learned the outcome and truly understood the distance spanning between us and Chen Guangcheng. It was exactly like as Enchao said: The longest distance in the world was from the gate of his village to his house.

It was October 15^th, 2011. It was an ordinary day. Four fat men and a woman arrived in an unfamiliar city. In the deep of the night, the woman slept. The two fat men sleeping in another room snored loudly, threatening to wake the whole city. Another fat man snored in a different room, mumbling in his sleep and occasionally grinding his teeth. The fourth fat man couldn’t sleep. He sat on the toilet and smoked a cigarette, mindlessly flipped through a book. In a village near these five people, a group of guards surrounded a door, their eyes watched a single room.

In that room sits a blind man. He has been tortured for his activism. He sits in darkness and yet he struggles to find light for the rest of us. On this tranquil night, I hoped that he was having a good dream, a dream filled with color, a dream filled with light and the memories of home.

Two

On the morning of October 16^th, we were awakened by the hotel concierge. It was already light outside. We hurried and washed up. We got into a taxi. The driver was a chubby fellow with a sunny disposition. His face was honest and simple. He was kind and treated his job seriously. He worried that he was charging us too much, and was shy when he shared oranges with us, saying “we meet because fate wants us to.”

It was clear that none of us were used to waking up early. Everyone’s eyes were red. On the way we stopped at a small street vendor for breakfast. 5 bowls of soy milk, 5 eggs, 12 youtiaos. It wasn’t the classiest joint. We ate on a small table and sat on tiny chairs. The pot heating the soy milk was covered in dust. Wang Xiaoshan didn’t touch anything, scared that it would upset his stomach. Enchao and I called him our delicate senior official. He replied curtly, “Just keep eating, will ya? Go ahead, eat, eat. They’re just going to beat it out of you later.” Well, what he said was spot on, but the youtiao and the soy milk were so good we ate our fill anyway. After eating I went to pay the bill: 23 RMB.

Qingtuo is ten kilometers from Dong Shigu. Our car ran for ten minutes and arrived at an old aqueduct, a remnant of Mao’s era. We’d driven to the Dong Shigu’s village gate but then turned around after seeing a couple of burly guards at the entrance.

Instead we got off a kilometer away from Dong Shigu. Nuola stayed to set up our base. It was eight in the morning. Just as we were leaving a young man, medium height, skinny, ran towards us with a green coat in his hands. He looked like he’d just finished his night shift. Seeing us, he reached for his phone and made a call. We pretended not to see, and walked towards Dong Shigu.

At the gate of Dong Shigu is a single road. Flanking the road are two ordinary houses. There were people both inside and outside those houses. I walked towards one of them when a short man wearing a grey-green jacket blocked my way. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Is this place Dong Shigu village?” I asked, smiling.

Ignoring my question, he repeated his, “What are you doing?”

“We’re here to see a man called Chen Guangcheng. May I ask if he lives here?”

Taken aback by my directness, he paused. Then covertly he leaned in towards me to say, “Well, there have been some robberies recently here in the village. You know, chickens, cows. So I can’t let you in.”

I chuckled, “Oh we’re not here to steal anything. Don’t worry. We’re just here to see Chen Guangcheng. We’ll leave immediately afterwards.”

His expression turned stern. A few others came out of the house, among them a middle aged man wearing a black velvet jacket. The man had a mild face but his words were brusque: “It’s harvest season. All the men are gone. We’re afraid of losing things so you can’t come in.”

“We’re not here to steal!” exclaimed Enchao, “Don’t worry!”

Xiaoshan started talking legalities, “Who knows who you guys are? Look, come over here, come, come. I’ll introduce you. I’m a writer, called Murong Xuechun. This here is Wang Xiaoshan, newspaper columnist; This is Zhang Enchao, digital web director; This is Hu Zhongqiang…”

Velvet Jacket started to lose his patience, “I don’t give a shit who you people are. I said you can’t come in didn’t I? That means you can’t come in!”

The scene turned stiff and airless. I took a wad of cash from my pocket, probably around 2000 RMB. “Afraid we’re going to steal from you? Look, I’ll just put this money here with you, as collateral.”

“Or you can come with us if you don’t trust us. When we come out you can inspect us,” said Enchao.

Velvet Jacket shook his head vigorously, “Put your money away! I don’t want your money! What would I do with your money?”

“How about we give you our IDs. That would give you a piece of mind, right?” said Enchao

They stopped talking. None of them spoke. I decided to start walking again. Two steps in, Green Jacket grabbed me, “Stop! Stop Walking!”

After that they gave us another two, three minutes of silent treatment. No matter what we said, no one replied. Zhongqiang took out a pack of Tarzans and went around offering each guard a cigarette. None of the guards responded.

In China, when one confronts trouble, one of the only solutions is to appeal to a political leader. Xiaoshan said, “If you can’t make a decision, then call your village chief. We want to talk to him.” A few of them started speaking at the same time, in a local dialect. Something sounded off, they sounded…like they were laughing at Xiaoshan. ‘And you want to talk legalities? Who says the “Chief” anymore?’ (Incidentally we learned that the “Village Chiefs” have been rechristened as “Village Directors”)

We stood there for almost an hour but still couldn’t get into the village. We also didn’t want to leave so we lingered around. Meanwhile, there were villagers strolling and biking in and out of the village gate. No one even seemed to notice us. They looked calm. It was clear to us that these villagers had seen situations like ours. Some of them even stopped to talk to Velvet Jacket. They smiled sweetly at him and spoke in ellipses, as if they shared a secret language. These people must have known Chen Guangcheng. They might have even been his student, friends, or relatives. But in this place, at this time, no one cared about what was happening to him. These villagers treated him as if he were a stranger, or an enemy. All these villagers had gotten together to gang up against one blind man.

According to rumors, Dong Shigu has implemented a multilayer security system. The gate was only the first step, probably the easiest to get past, and yet we’d exhausted ourselves to no avail. As I said, all I wanted to know was what it takes to visit a person, and I’d gotten my answer: As impossible as walking to the sky. I sat down with my legs crossed and put on a loutish pose. With all the hate I could muster towards Velvet Jacket, I said: “You don’t let us into the village. Well, I’m going to sit here! If I don’t see Chen Guangcheng today, I won’t leave!” Inside I thought, “Well, I guess this isn’t a bad way to buy time…”

At the time, I had no idea what they were going to do. Very quickly, two buses arrived. The doors opened and what followed was a skirmish to try to get us onto the bus. Two men grabbed Zhongqiang, two men had Enchao, and one man had Wang Xiaoshan. No one paid attention to me. Only after pushing the other three onto the bus, did the guards make a circle around me. Two of them grabbed my left arm. Another two grabbed my right arm. They dragged me violently towards the vehicle. The scene was anarchy. Everyone was yelling something. I was screaming too, “Let go! I’m not leaving!” People were pushing and shoving. I grabbed the bus door, and refused the let go. They started shaking the door. The conductor panicked, “Let go! Don’t break my car!” I held on. Velvet Jacket blew his top and started punching my arm. Someone yelled “Stop! Stop!” By that point Xiaoshan told me, “Forget it, and just come in,” and so finally, I let go. Humiliated, I stepped onto the bus. Before the door closed, I turned to Velvet Jacket, “You wait, I’ll be back immediately!” He ignored me. The driver yelled “Close the door! We’re going!”

I bought four bus tickets. Because of all that happened, I didn’t even notice how much I paid, or where we were going. The driver and the ticket collector had obviously seen this kind of scuffle before. They looked calm. I got their attention and said “We just wanted to go see a friend!” Xiaoshan got up too, “There is a blind man in this village named Chen Guangcheng! Who has heard of him!” One of the patrons replied: “I think I’ve heard of him. Heard he was in jail.” The middle aged woman next to me muttered “In jail? Sounds like a bad apple!” I had no words. Slowly I felt a pain in my right hand, and discovered that my ring finger was gushing blood. Probably hurt it when we were pulling at the door.

The bus arrived at the aqueduct. I told the driver to stop the car. He smiled, and said, “There’s no use getting off here. Take a look at what’s behind us. They’ve been tailing us the whole time. Even if you could get off, they’d kick you back up here.”

One of the cars was a black Santana with no license plate. I didn’t know what kind of car the other was.

At Qingtuo we got off the bus. Thirty, forty meters behind us, the Santana cruised slowly. We moved, they moved. We stopped, they stopped. The windows were tinted, but I had a feeling that the man inside the car was taking pictures of us. I wanted to confront them, but Enchao stopped me.

At the end of the road we waved down two buses, but neither stopped for us. The first one actually stopped and asked us where we were going. We said Dong Shigu, but the conductor waved us off, “Not Going!” He slammed the door with a loud clang, and then proceeded to drive directly in Dong Shigu’s direction. The second bus didn’t even stop for us. It slowed down at first, but drove away quickly when it got a close look at us. Zhongqiang said “I bet you all the buses on this line have been warned, we shouldn’t depend on them.” The other three answered in unison, “Then we’ll walk to Dong Shigu!”

The distance from Qingtuo and Dong Shigu is about ten kilometers, not far, but not close. Xiaoshan said Dongshan’s scenery wasn’t bad, and we could treat it as exercise. We started our journey on foot. This was late Fall of 2011. The sky was blue. The air smelt like dry grass. Leaves were shedding.

Three

Once I saw a photo of Chen Guangcheng on the internet. Wearing an old suit, he stands in front of his house with his head tilted. He wears a sunny smile, and looks confident. While writing this essay, I searched for this photo more than once. I didn’t understand how he could wear such a fresh smile, but slowly, it began to dawn on me. Here is the difference between those who are brave and those who are ordinary. We are all made the same. Like everyone, he is afraid of suffering and he experiences fear. And yet he continues to hope, continues to believe that the world gets better, that these abnormal days will come to an end.

Almost everyone in our generation has read the book “Believe in the Future” 《相信未来》：

When cobwebs clog my stove

When its dying smoke sigh for poverty

I will stubbornly dig out the disappointing ash

And write on snowflakes: Believe in the Future[1][2]

This poem was written in 1968 during an abnormal time. That year, the historian Jian Bozan and his wife committed suicide. Tian Han, the lyricist of our national anthem, died in prison. That year, ordinary citizens silently endured a life of injustice. But the real heroes were the ones who held onto hope, who still believed in the future, who still had faith that the world would turn back to normal.

I’m not saying this to praise myself. I’m no hero. I’m someone who wants to be at the side of a hero, doing the little that I can.

We’d gone 200 meters in the direction of Dong Shigu when another van drove towards us, stopping in front of us. A young man jumped out. He was tall, wore his hair stylishly and wore a black round neck t-shirt that revealed part of a tattoo on his chest.

There were six men behind him. Some of them were wearing black. Silently they surrounded us. The afore-mentioned young man decided that I was the chief criminal, and ran straight for me, grabbed my neck with one hand, and pressed my arm violently behind my back with his other hand. At the same time the van roared past our bodies. Zhongqiang and Enchao yelled, “What are you doing? If you have something to say, say it!” Our antagonists acted as if they didn’t hear a word and shoved us onto the other side of the road.

I was furious, we all were. Crowding in, we yelled “Where the hell do you get off!”

One of them said “This is my territory, I do as I want!”

Beside himself, Enchao roared, “This is Qingtuo not Dong Shigu! This is your territory?”

“That’s right!”

“Who’s your leader? Let’s sit and talk,” I said.

They said nothing.

“Then we won’t go to Dong Shigu, we’ll go to Lingyi. You can’t do anything about that,” said Xiaoshan.

Xiaoshan started walking, and was grabbed by a guy, “Stop, don’t move!”

I started to panic, and pulled out my housekeeping moves, “Get this straight. We are the citizens of the People’s Republic of China! Without a trial, no one can take away our freedom!”

I admit that these words weren’t appropriate at the time. They were extremely naïve. In this country, the law is not a shield, at least not our shield. So I wasn’t surprise when the young man knocked down my words, “Law? We’re not talking law with you!”

These words effectively enraged everyone. We’d been were standing with our backs against each other, but now each man stood his own ground. My deepest impression is that of Enchao. Some guy kept on tearing at him. Enchao looked like a lion experiencing psychosis, his eyes wide, and his long hair loose. He kept howling in anguish at his opponent, “Where do you get off?! Where do you get off?! Where do you off?!”

A few minutes later another bus came towards us. They tried to shove us onto the vehicle. We struggled against them. I had only one thought: Leave. The farther we go the better! One man kept following me, harassing me and twisting my arm. He was very strong. Mixed in with this chaos were the sound of a bus engine, the sound of wrists cracking, and the words: “You lowlifes!”

Afterward I found out that all of us had met our misfortunes. Enchao’s new leather jacket had been ripped. Zhongqiang got hit in the stomach twice. Someone had kicked Xiaoshan in the legs. I didn’t feel anything at the time, but found bruises on my arms after I returned to Beijing. These wounds don’t represent the totality of what our antagonists could have done to us. It wouldn’t have been hard to mess me up completely. It wouldn’t be hard to kill me. I have to admit that they never tried to hurt us badly. Theirs was a symbolic form of violence.

At one point the young man in the black t-shirt grabbed my neck and shoved me forward. I fell onto the ground.

Lying there I screamed, “You hit people! You hit people!”

The young man replied, “Who’s hit you? Who’s hit you?”

“You threw me onto the ground. That counts as hitting!”

“Who hit you? You fell!”

I was so livid I couldn’t find the right words. “Hah! So you’re scared too! What are you scared of? Tell me, what are you scared of?”

“What am I scared of? I’m scared of nothing!” he said, gritting his teeth.

What happened next was a blur. I didn’t know whether the bus had been driven to us, or if we’d been taken to the bus. Again we were forced onto the vehicle. Xiaoshan screamed, “I’ve remembered you! I’ve remembered your faces!”

Afterwards, Xiaoshan and I discussed what we’d seen. My argument was that they weren’t all bad people. Perhaps, they’d fallen for something they shouldn’t have fallen for. If they truly believed that Chen Guangcheng was a national traitor, then naturally they would hate him, and by association would hate his supporters. This was normal. Xiaoshan, however, disagreed, “They don’t count as good people either. They’re doing this for money. 1600RMB every month to do nothing. To beat people. Where do people even find jobs like that?”

In the end we agreed: this was a group of individuals who’d been sedated, who couldn’t care less about good or evil, who cared only about their immediate wellbeing. In certain cases, at certain times in history, these were the people who had the capacity to assist monsters. If they had a gun, they would aim it. It didn’t matter to them who they aimed at.

Wang Yanan, the former president of Xiamen Universityand translator of Das Kapital, once said: “There are three types of people in a Pre-modern society: Liars, Fools and Mutes.” I think he must have overlooked the fourth type: the Participant. In an abnormal society, the Participant makes up the society. There are lots of them so each of them has only to do very little. None of them needs to own up to their actions. When times change most of them will be able to defend their actions by saying that they were fooled by someone else, that they were victims too. This isn’t untrue, but it is because of their willingness to participate that makes them the very creators of evil itself.

Four

We rode our bus back to Lingyi. A black Buick followed us the whole way. This was probably the world’s most patient car. Wherever we went, it went. We pressed the gas, it pressed the gas. We turned around, it turned around. We stopped to drink sodas and eat noodles, and they sat outside waiting for us. I didn’t know who owned the car, but I can bet that they were spending tax payers’ money.

We arrived in Xuzhou at three in the afternoon. Every one felt more relaxed after leaving Shandong. Someone called Xiaoshan to ask him where he was born. He said that we’d left Shandong, and didn’t mention Xuzhou. If someone had asked me, I would’ve answered. My thoughts were that we were just going to see a friend. There’s nothing more normal than this and there’s no need to be dramatic. Later some things happened, proving that Xiaoshan, an old pro, was right to take precautions. It also proved that in an abnormal era, one pays a price for normal behavior. This is China and I am a Chinese citizen. I have the right to lead a normal life. This is the lowest requirement for life. But at this time, in this place, it has become a dream.

Four days later, the five of us met up in Beijing. Xiaoshan played with his smart-phone. Enchao wore a different leather jacket. Zhongqiang played poker. Nuola sat beside us smiling. I’d offended Enchao with another inappropriate joke and spent the rest of that meal apologizing to him. We ate, drank two pots of coffee, and said things we didn’t need to say. It was as if we’d returned to our ordinary lives, but we were all deeply aware that at that very moment, Chen Guangcheng was still in Dong Shigu, still sitting alone in a dark cell. I know that Nuola will never forget. Zhongqiang will never forget. Enchao will never forget. Xiaoshan will never forget. There are others who will never forget. As we sat in that bright and clean room with our drinks, Chen Guangcheng was still in Dong Shigu, sitting alone in a dark cell.

If you live in Dong Shigu you are very close to Chen Guangcheng. When he was encountered by the government, everyone was encountered by the government. His fate is everyone’s fate. A single man captive, the whole of Man captive. You don’t have to care about Chen Guangcheng, but you do need to know that at the moment his freedom was arbitrarily taken away, your freedom came under threat.

I once read this passage on the internet: “China’s road towards development is long and slow. It doesn’t promise to be smooth. If there’s going to be blood, then please, start with me. If we’re doomed to bear loss, then please, start with me. I will bleed, but that means that you cannot let others bleed. I am willing to bleed to death. If I lose, no one else is allowed to lose. I am willing to lose everything.”

Chen Guangcheng did not write these words, but it might as well be him who said it. I hope, in a future not too far away, to read this passage to him on a warm spring day. I hope to sit down and have a drink with him. Then finally I would have realized this dream: To live a normal life.

On that night of October 15^th at the hotel in Lingyi, I was reading a book called The Blinding Absence of Light by the Moroccan author Tahar Ben Jelloun. The book described a dark cell. In this cell sat a group of prisoners waiting to die. For them, time no longer held meaning. There was one boy, however, named Karim who continued to cherish this thing called time. Sitting quietly in a dark corner, he counted each passing minute. Everyday, for three times a day he would announce the time to his fellow prisoners, giving shape to their lives. Though he’d lived in utter darkness, he found light in time. Though physically imprisoned, he’d found freedom.

The second day after I came back to Beijing, someone sent me a message: You are a writer. What was the purpose of what you did?

My answer: For Light, For Time

[1] 当蜘蛛网无情地查封了我的炉台

灰烬的余烟叹息着贫困的悲哀

我依然固执地铺平失望的灰烬

用美丽的雪花写下：相信未来……

[2] (Translation Source)