If it ever was right, it hides the complexity of the present. Or actually, it not only hides, it positively misleads: In daily life, (especially young) people show emotions just as much as anywhere else. Chinese also – although valuing calmness, too – are often highly expressive. Not only that, but there are some things which Chinese will very openly comment on (and which Western people would avoid mentioning so directly).

Racism in East Asia is an issue hotly discussed – if not necessarily in East Asia. What makes it so particularly striking, however, is not its prevalence, but that open expression of observations and opinions it is a sign of. It starts with the simple appellation "外国人" the foreigner encounters so much (and oftentimes, in ways which get tiring).

Where the approach to others is particularly striking in China, however, is when it comes to "own others," groupings within China. This, in fact, is the point that makes me think that the discussion about widespread racism in China is somewhat misguided: it is not racism as much as a "group-think" that draws borders very quickly and talks of differences without regard for political correctness. Thus, if it is racism, then it is equal-opportunity racism:

• After all, people in the conservative heartland will point out that traditional Chinese thinking (e.g. about relationships) is a treasure they adhere to, whereas those others in places like Shanghai are just so different.
• Shanghainese, on the other hand, will see themselves as modern, and "外地人," people from other soils, as different, backwards, less modern.
• Talking of somebody as 土, "earthy, peasant-like," is quickly becoming one of the biggest insults, even as the farmers continue to be hailed as the exemplary Chinese.

All those labels are not applied to minorities alone, labels like that can be and are conferred on everybody. For better or worse, it might even be assumed that minorities cannot but be so backward, at least unless they study and develop themselves, whereas ethnically Han Chinese (or other "own" people) should have had better opportunities from the start.

People’s looks, in general, will be commented on rather freely. Not just the clothes, but also the shape: In notable difference to the West, if you are fat and in China, you can expect to be called fat. For the women especially, fat begins at a body shape where a Westerner may still be concerned about anorexia. At least among the younger generation (as I encounter them), it is also not seen as a problem for a woman to tell a guy that he is good-looking. – It’s just a statement, observable by anyone, after all…

Tradition is strong, nonetheless: Some things are not talked about quite so freely, especially following a separation between private and public spheres. Public displays of affection, for example, are becoming more and more common. Sometimes it looks positively as if city – and even more so campus – parks are made for lover’s meetings. There is also a reason why hotels typically offer hourly rates. On the other hand, however, the night is a Chinese lover’s friend, for what people may think of you is still a major issue to think about, and one not necessarily to break free from. Thus, showing or talking about too much that is private is not exactly well-received – to the point that even Chinese husbands may not openly say "I love you" to their wife. Holding hands in public (between a boy and a girl – interaction within genders is much freer) is enough to tell that those two must be a couple; even that can be a bit much in some highly traditional settings.

Where the appearance of an outright masking may be the strongest is when it comes to how information is handled. Where Europeans or Americans may want everybody to be on the same page about plans, and thus provide relevant information (and maybe additional details which may make things more complicated but could have relevance) on a pro-active basis, the Chinese approach tends to be "need to know." Planning also tends to be very short-term, ad-hoc. – Not to hide information and plans from the strangers, however, but just because things are done in a different way.

With people from different linguistic and cultural backgrounds, it’s only too clear that there will be differences. First of all, in the languages we grew up with and learned to speak; what subjects are considered topics for everyday speech, and which are rather sensitive; to what extent the communication is meant to support a social relationship or to be just the facts.

Intercultural communication has come to be of ever greater importance. Some people marry between cultures; some do international business; most come into some contact with people from other backgrounds. Maybe it has been given too much importance.

There are obvious blunders, areas of cultural sensitivity which one should know about. Most issues, however, are not all that sensitive. We may have misunderstandings, and more easily so when what we consider normal is different. Still, the differences between cultures hide both the variability within each and every culture, and the misunderstandings that can occur when people are supposed to understand each other anyways, coming from similar backgrounds, making them all the less aware and careful.

The trouble is that intercultural communication training – at least the kind you get from books and lectures – means only too well… Many times, it teaches all too many small things.
Knowing not to stick your chopsticks into the rice isn’t going to help you much in China when you find that people actually do, and don’t care. Or maybe they don’t, because they stick them in sideways, not truly upright. Knowing that an East Asian may not want to directly say “no” could be helpful, but when it makes you see every “I’ll think about it” as a “no,” it’s taking you too far.

The situation at hand is the important thing to consider: it is not helpful to communication not to know anything about the likelihood that a person from a different background will react differently to what one is used to. The things which are noticeable and noticed are less likely to be the problems, however. The trouble are the small things which go unnoticed except as a nagging issue, where both don’t know why the other is acting the way s/he is, but both are doing things only “the normal way.”

Intercultural communication, in most situations which truly matter, is direct communication between persons.

Listening, getting to know one’s opposite, as an individual person and not a representative of a culture, is one of the things that count most. The diversity between people, within culture, is always greater than the diversity between cultures. We are human beings, not machines, after all. Yet, we tend to act just the way we learnt to act, as if on-program – and when something outside the normal program happens, we react defensively.

Thus, maybe the most overlooked aspect of intercultural communication is the person in the mirror: oneself.

Many of the misunderstandings arise from the simple problem that we learn most about the other culture, what people of that do – but not always so much of what our own preconceptions are, let alone how to deal with them.

“Cultural intelligence” – like in David Livermore’s Leading with Cultural Intelligence: The New Secret to Success – goes there, focusing on the person in question and his/her psychological faculties. Training for these may be harder than simply reading some books about the wondrous ways in which those strange others from exotic lands talk and act, but more of a journey of self-discovery. It will also prepare you better to actually listen to what the other is communicating, and where you are reacting in ways that may not be appropriate for the new context you find yourself in.

http://opinion.globaltimes.cn/foreign-view/2010-01/501145.html

The Chinese countryside is scattered with posters urging people to remember that “Girls are just as good as boys,” but the surplus of men keeps rising.

According to a study released in April 2009 by the British Medical Journal, currently, 117 boys are born in China for every 100 girls, a rise from earlier figures of 108 to 100.

Gender screening during pregnancy, and follow up abortions, may be illegal, but they’re still common. Traditional thinking has combined with modern tools to create a gender gulf. But what impact will the imbalance have on Chinese culture?

Traditional Chinese society placed higher value on men, and thus sons. It was the sons who would continue the family name, go on working with their parents and support them. This is not just an aspect of Chinese culture, but is common in other societies as well. In fact, when my brother married and took his wife’s family name, some people asked me if I now had to keep mine – at which my mother immediately shook her head.

Women still face the “glass ceiling” in many careers too. Even in school, it is common to assume that men have more aptitude for the “important” subjects such as mathematics and sciences, whereas woman are better in the “soft” subjects such as languages. Often, this even goes to the point where it is thought that men were simply more talented and intelligent.

From actual data, however, we increasingly see that it is, in fact, the girls who study better at school, let alone at university.

Yet, there are still more boys than girls being born, because education isn’t the only value here. The one-child policy is clearly having an effect; families may only value boys a little more than girls, but if they only have one chance, they don’t want to waste it.

Another quality of Chinese social thought is the high value placed on family. A life is seen as incomplete without marriage and children. Typically, parents are also looking for a great match for their child. A potential husband has to be able to care for his wife, while a wife has to be cultivated, a good mother, and preferably pretty.

A part of that traditional thought is also that love takes second stage, at best, after practical considerations. The two potential partners have to be seen as fitting together. Character plays its part in that, but so do material, social status, and ethnic background.

Where does that leave the millions of Chinese men who, by 2020, will not be able to find a Chinese wife? What effect will this have on the culture?

Clearly, something has to give. Most analysts writing about this issue have been somewhat pessimistic, predicting a rise in human trafficking and prostitution, especially the import of foreign women from poorer countries and regions, such as Southeast Asia and eastern Russia, into China. Increasing numbers of young men may also make society more aggressive.

But let’s take a more positive approach. Regard for daughters will probably rise as well, as people recognize that daughters are usually easier than sons to raise into good adults who will learn well, work hard, and not forget about their parents. Most importantly, as the rarer of the sexes, they will have a better shot on the marriage market.

For the men things will get harder: The chances that the woman will have to be a foreigner will be better as there are simply too few Chinese women. The men will have to work particularly hard to attract and keep their partner, whether Chinese or foreign, since the women will have more choice.

The sooner it is realized that it is increasingly better to have a girl than to have a boy, and the sooner the old prejudices against women being educated too highly or reaching too powerful positions are abolished, the better it will be for China.

Women can’t be seen just as producers of the next generation of sons. Culture may change slowly, but the regions of Hong Kong and Taiwan, with similar cultures and traditions, both have low birth-rates and balanced gender ratios. The Chinese mainland clearly has the potential to change fast.

So, what does it take to feel at home; does it make any sense for me to be writing a blog entitled “at home in China”? (I realize one issue with the latter is that I haven’t been the most prolific writer; it’s my unmade new year’s resolution to write regularly.)

Let’s get to two quotidian, and at the same time central, issues first: language and food.

Chances are, when you go to a foreign country, you are and feel like an adult, but you are also rather like a small child. After all, you can’t talk yet. Even having studied the language, you talk differently, in ways that are not quite conventional and probably don’t (immediately) understand all that much. In China, in particular, there are different regional variations of the Chinese language, and even more dialects. Of course, one can still live comfortably in many places, knowing just the basics – if that. Thinking of deeper issues, however, the importance of language returns with a vengeance.

In my case, being here as German teacher, there is way too much contact with languages I already know, and far too little need to go beyond the bare essentials of Chinese. I am working on it, and noticing more and more just how appropriate the Chinese way of learning (which seems to be one of the main impediments to foreign language studies in China) is to the study of the Chinese language. There is a very strong need to sit down and practice writing, review and practice by reciting, go on – and review, then repeat…

The other major issue one encounters more than once-a-day is, of course, food. There is no coming home in a different place if it is not accompanied (or, more likely, preceded) by a liking for the food. In a place like China, this can be particularly striking.

Much non-Chinese food is hard to come by outside of the bigger cities in China, and when it can be found, it’s very expensive in comparison to normal food.

Tastes are also, of course, noticeably different; Chinese sweets are oftentimes decidedly not-sweet to the European palate, meats on the market are oftentimes so fresh, they could still run (or fly, or jump, or swim) away, and people actually like to see that meat is not grown in a vat – so, of course there are bones (and fish heads, and chicken feet).
Meat is also a more-expensive ingredient, and therefore oftentimes used as more of a spice, cut very small, in as many dishes as possible. The importance is best illustrated by the variety of fake meat dishes one often finds around Buddhist temples. No meat in them, but at least the taste of it – surely, you wouldn’t want to do without that, would you?

Then, there is the issue of the rather peculiar tastes and things one may encounter. Hunan’s chile pepper-laden dishes are not a problem for me, they are a reason I’m here; but, of course, not everyone would concur. At the beginning of my time here, I was decidedly not fond of chou doufu (“stinky tofu”). To the uninitiated, it’s a great dieting method: sniff, and you don’t feel hungry anymore. Except, I recently noticed my mouth watering upon a waft of freshly frying chou doufu…

Lastly (at least for now), there is the matter of conditions and orientations: Speaking as an ecologist and anthropologist, this is particularly fun for it is, in a way, a matter of environment and adaptation; the bread and butter of my disciplines.

As for environment/conditions: living in China makes it obvious that China is, in most respects, still a developing country. Most of the time, the accusations which are leveled at the country don’t play much of a role. Youtube and Facebook are blocked, but basically all news sites can be accessed; you have a one-party government, but usually what counts is that the situation is stable. Still, it is cold now, and of course there is no heating, basically no insulation to the houses; electricity sometimes gives out, and so on…

Not least, the country’s opening has not been far enough back for foreigners to have become a truly normal sight. Thus, and also given that further socio-cultural aspects make for a society that manages to be rather closed and over-accommodating at the same time, one is not usually integrated too well.
Still, it is possible to work with cultural competence, and be made to feel very well at home. The language, of course, is a major influence in this regard.

Personal orientations, in the end, play at least as much of a role as the host societies’ openness: Some (many, actually) expats apparently come to China for the adventure, feel quite at home in the bars, and think they have experienced China; some (maybe) want to be accepted and treated as absolute equals, without any cross looks and comments about the “laowai.”

My personal attitude, maybe due to personal factors, definitely also a side-effect of my professional training, is that there needs to be a second socialization into a host culture, and that – as long as it is open enough for that – it is always possible to reach a point where one is culturally competent enough to be a functioning member of that society. So far, I’m definitely just at the point of being able to take (most) things as they are, go on, and feel at home notwithstanding the downsides and paradoxa there are.

Dargestellt wie ein aktueller Anlass für eine nationale Debatte – und, nicht zu vergessen, ein Beispiel dafür wie andere noch mehr Probleme mit Menschen anderer Hautfarbe oder Herkunft haben können – ist es doch so simplifiziert, dass es eine relativ bedeutungslose Anekdote wird.

Schon der Zeitrahmen macht Probleme, war dieser Aufruhr doch schon im August dieses Jahres aktuell und im Laufe des September wieder vergessen. In das Licht der internationalen Öffentlichkeit kam die Sache im wesentlichen dadurch, dass ChinaSmack (www.chinasmack.com, eines der sogenannten “Brücken-Blogs” die Inhalte des chinesischsprachigen Internets ins Englische übersetzen) dieses Thema für interessant genug befand, ausgewählte Kommentare zu präsentieren; erst kürzlich fanden sich Artikel und Kommentare hierzu allerdings in der englischen Presse und dann eben auch im Standard.

Die Kommentare im chinesischen Internet zeugen tatsächlich von einer gehörigen Portion Unverfrorenheit gegenüber “anderen”. Sie einfach auf Rassismus in China zu schieben macht die Sache jedoch zu einfach: Tatsächlich ist in China eine starke Xenophobie auszumachen, ebenso aber eine große Offenheit und Neugier gegenüber Fremden. Freundliche und bei weitem weniger freundliche Blicke sind an der Tagesordnung; der Ausländer ein sofortiger Anlass für Kommentare. Größe, Gewicht, Farbe von Haut, Haaren, Augen und, ja, auch die große Nase – dies alles wird mit Vorliebe kommentiert, gerade “anderen” gegenüber.
Schwarze Haut, das muss auch gesagt werden, ist stark negativ besetzt – nicht umsonst sind dieselben Cremes die in Europa einen bronzierenden Effekt hätten, in China mit bleichenden Wirkstoffen versehen. Diese Einstellung trifft allerdings nicht nur “farbige”, denn dazu würden Chinesen sich im Zweifelsfall durchaus selbst zählen. “Dunkel” sind auch ganz einfach die Menschen vom Lande, jene die noch nahe der Feldarbeit stehen. Dieses Urteil, selbst in der Form dass dunkle Haut und schlechte Eigenschaften als ganz natürlich zusammen auftretend angesehen werden, fällt über Afrikaner ebenso – und eventuell sogar weniger – als über Minderheiten und auch über Angehörige der Mehrheit der Han-Chinesen.

Im Fall von Lou Jing war es jedoch nicht nur die dunkle Haut, die Aufsehen – und reichlich üble Stimmung – erzeugte. Mindestens ebenso stark wog, dass sie Kind einer außerehelichen Affäre, wenn nicht sogar eines Ehebruchs, mit einem Afro-Amerikaner wäre. Letztere Behauptung ist wohl der Grund für die Klage wegen übler Nachrede; aber schon Sex außerhalb der Ehe ist für eine nicht zu unterschätzende Zahl an Chinesen ein Zeichen für eine moralische Verderbtheit, die online schnell in Rufe mündet, die einen wundern lassen wieso es in China keine Ehrenmorde gibt. (Wobei es Sex außerhalb bzw. vor der Ehe ganz klar auch gibt – aber zumindest ein “Resultat” desselben sollte es nicht geben. Abtreibungen sind schließlich üblich und leicht erhältlich; gerade auf die Frauen wirkt hier starker Druck, Gesicht zu wahren und nicht als unmoralisch dazustehen.)

Online sind zudem auch jene Stimmen am lautesten, die in jeder Beziehung zwischen Chinesen und Ausländern gleich einen Landesverrat wittern. Wenn die historisch-politische Schulbildung, in der gerne die historische nationale Schande der Unterdrückung durch die westlichen Mächte (inklusive Japans) betont wird, in revanchistischer Rede Bahn bricht und sich paart mit – sage man es so krude, wie es online nun einmal geschieht – dem Minderwertigkeitskomplex der durch den Konsum von Internet-Pornos leicht hervorgerufen werden kann, dann sind dabei eben solche Kommentare nicht mehr fern. Daraus allerdings lassen sich eine Portion Rassismus (oder wohl eher anderer Formen von Problemen mit dem/den Fremden) ebenso ablasen, wie zum Beispiel eine kaum vermutete Freiheit der Online-Meinungsäußerung – zumindest wenn es um bestimmte Themen geht. Bedenkt man, wie leicht solche Kommentare auch auf die anerkannten Minderheiten Chinas (und auch auf sozusagen hinterwäldlerische Han-Chinesen) losgelassen werden und welchen Effekt solche Einstellungen leicht auf die viel beschworene nationale Einheit haben könnten, so liegt das wohl nicht nur daran, dass eine “schwarze Chinesin” und abfällige Postings gegen sie kein politisch sensitives Thema sind.

Außerdem, wie Malcolm Moore vom britischen Telegraph letztens feststellte, klingt in der Geschichte auch durch, dass Lou Jing offenbar, vor ihrem zweifelhaften Ruhm, große Akzeptanz erfuhr. Immerhin wuchs sie in Shanghai auf, hat hier die Schule besucht, studiert nun hier – ohne solche Antipathie erfahren zu haben. China hat sicherlich noch einen langen Weg vor sich, bis Fremde und Andersartige überall ohne bohrende Blicke unterwegs sein könnten. Umgekehrt aber kann man sich in diesem Land, trotz allen Starrens, trotz aller verfolgenden “Hello!”- Rufe, sicherer fühlen als ein Asiate, geschweige denn Schwarzer, in so manchen Teilen Europas oder der USA. Dort wird man allerdings, anders als es in so manchen Teilen Chinas noch immer der Fall ist, Ausländer wohl schon öfter gesehen haben. Das Internet als im wesentlichen freier Raum der Meinungsäußerung, das würde man sich öfter stärker kontrolliert wünschen, wo es das nicht ist, und weniger kontrolliert, wo Facebook, YouTube, Twitter der Blockade anheim fallen.
Im Alltag sind Städte wie Shanghai oder Beijing mittlerweile ebenso kosmopolitisch wie Berlin oder Wien – und bis diese wieder hierzu kamen, hat es bekanntlich auch seine Zeit gedauert.

Update: Later, this article even made it into the Chinese edition (translated, of course – and not by me)… kinda funky.

Chinese and foreign commentators, often at odds with each other, are of one mind when it comes to China’s younger generation.

Raised as single children, the sole center of attention for the whole family, and in a society that values children very highly, they are seen as having become spoiled.

Moreover, growing up during a time of rapid economic growth, many hold that they did not learn to push themselves or to endure hardship.

Looking at my students, I must say that the picture looks very different. The comparison between younger people in Central Europe and in China is particularly interesting.

If one went by levels of development or cultural backgrounds, one would expect few similarities. In fact, however, the basic problems of the young generation are strikingly similar.

Take education and job prospects for example. There are obvious differences in education, of course. What is seen as the normal way of treating the young in China, pushing them to study hard and forget about most other things – love and relationships, in particular – would in Europe be seen as a form of coercion that infringes on teenagers’ rights and personality.

Of course, this is a mixed bag: It gives more freedom and, as the younger generation and their parents are rather similar in many respects, causes fewer quarrels than might be expected.

On the other hand, it has resulted in some children and teenagers who can hardly be controlled anymore, even when it would be for their own good.

Where European teenagers are encouraged to start making decisions for themselves, especially in working toward a career of their choice, Chinese children are pushed along by parents and teachers.

Still, the focus on choice and individual freedom only hides that in both cases, the school often determines future education and (partly) careers. In China, parents use every resource to attempt to get children into better schools, knowing it will lead to better universities.

In Central Europe, whether a child attends a more academically-oriented high school (the German Gymnasium) or a standard Hauptschule usually determines whether he/she will get a university education or start working immediately – in a learnt job requiring less qualification, of course.

When it comes to choosing careers, there are again two very different – and yet somewhat similar – approaches.

In Europe (as in the US), the idea is to plan your career, to find something to study and then to work on that you are good at and want to do. In practice, it also takes a lot of knowledge and experience, and often comes down to who you know and whether you get a lucky break.

On the upside, there are many choices and those who choose to study something out of interest know what they are taking on.

It is still seen as something of a failure not to find employment in the field you studied, but even more flexibility is required.

More and more “normal” careers, more and more, are not even expected anymore. With this, insecurity is on the rise, but so are the creativity and thrift necessary to make a living working on what you want to do.

In China, guided by parents who grew up in difficult times, and following the notion that marriage is out of the question if the male partner doesn’t have stable employment, the young seem to be chasing after a dream that is (outside of government employ) even more elusive.

Things are rather similar in that connections (guanxi) and luck are needed to find employment. However, with the focus being so strongly on stability, both parents and children are looking for fixed career paths.

The idea is that if you can only get into a good school and university, study hard without question, and then find a little help, you will get that job. As a side effect, opportunities are missed, diplomas count more than actual knowledge, and creativity is stifled.

To develop the country further will take well-educated people willing to think outside standard career paths, able to apply and deepen the skills and knowledge they are gaining through their college education.

As a teacher, and a foreigner to boot, I can bring in new perspectives. Ultimately, however, it is up to the new wave of students to find their own strengths, and to the society to at least allow them to thrive, and better still to support them.

At the very least, we need to supply young people with practical skills as well as theoretical knowledge during their studies. We also need to help them find out what their strengths and interests are, and how they could use them in new and growing fields.

Recently, the opinion pages of the Global Times have seen a lot of debate over such thorny issues as the relationships between older Western men and young Chinese women, and the tricky subject of living together before marriage.

Relationships, especially families, form the basis of society, and so it’s no wonder that they draw a lot of attention, especially in a rapidly changing society like China’s.

Abroad, too, Chinese society and social mores have garnered interest, but, as so often when dealing with another culture, only the more extreme cases are considered.

When the German media writes about Chinese relationships, for instance, they write about mistresses and er nai (second wives), not the ordinary, often loving couples that make up the norm.

Of course, it’s only natural that the media seeks out the most remarkable events and behaviors. The problem is that it starts to sound as if either the worst cases were the norm, or as if there is only one way in which all people behaved and had to behave.

We have to stop simplifying each other’s cultures. I am a Western man, and as such I sometimes shake my head at topics in China that in Europe were passed by long ago, such as cohabitation before marriage.

Equally, the only way in which the issue of a woman’s virginity before marriage usually surfaces in Europe is in cases of “honor killings” among some immigrant families who murder daughters who’ve had sex out of wedlock, or are merely suspected of doing so.

Talk of “virginity” as an inherent good that has to be protected therefore has a very negative ring for many Europeans.

At the same time, I know traditional European culture well. And what is typical for weddings there? A white wedding dress, signifying purity, innocence, and virginity. (There are still jokes about some brides not being suitable to wear white.) Devout Catholics, and some other Christians, still value virginity too.

Thus, I can at least partially understand the Chinese attitude, which isn’t entirely absent from my own culture.

My personal attitude, too, is that I would rather wait than be with someone just for a little bit of fun – but that’s my way of thinking. Friends of mine think and act differently, and I don’t value them any less for it.

This way, knowing that I am a Western man is not really going to tell you anything more than what my looks may be like.

The problem is that both Chinese and Westerners are often so stereotyped in each other’s minds that both sides make unwarranted assumptions about people purely by their ethnicity. For instance, the US is often seen as “open,” both liberal and with loose morals, by Chinese.

As a result, American women, such as a blonde-haired friend of mine, often have to suffer quite a few unwanted advances from Chinese men.

They assume that just because she’s American she must be sexually easy and available for affairs. Unfortunately for them, she’s looking not for adventure, but a life partner.

When it comes to relationships, we should be thinking about the individuals, not the culture. The most important thing is that the two people who come together are a good couple.

That is one thing that troubles me about Chinese attitudes; the frequent materialism with which young women say they’re looking for a man who can support them financially, or when young men say they want to wait for marriage until they feel they can afford it.

Yet, again, this practical attitude can be found in Germany, too!

Everything depends on the people, not on the country. Certainly, we are all shaped by different cultures, but we also come from different families, have different ideas and personalities.

Don’t miss the person for the people, or vice versa. We think we know what somebody must be like because we know where they come from – but if we don’t take the trouble to find out about them as individuals, we will never truly know them.

“Have you got used to the food?” After “Where are you from?,” this is the most common question for foreigners in China.

Food is an essential element of Chinese culture, and people know that strangers may like it, but also find it hard to manage. This is mirrored by friends and relatives outside of China asking if one finds enough decent things to eat. Attitudes toward Chinese food go along the lines that it is very strange and hard to get used to, but it is also an expression of China’s long history and diversity.

Nowadays, the food situation seems to reflect China’s rapid growth, with little regard for environmental and health considerations.

As someone involved in the debate over slow food, including sustainable development and its relationship with the way we eat and the relationship between food security and agricultural diversity, there is another side to this story. The price and availability of different kinds of food is a major influence on normal diets, and China’s less developed agricultural economy, with its relative lack of large scale industrial production and supermarket sales, is actually a great asset.

Of course, if one looks at GDP alone, it may be most efficient to industrialize agriculture, and have few farmers and large fields cultivated using heavy machinery. When producing for the international market, it can be better to sell processed goods than the agricultural products themselves. Traditional Chinese products could be a hit on the global market; I was recently at the China International Capsicum Expo (on chile peppers and products made from them), and though much of the production is not yet at a level where it could work on the global market, it could move there very well. Modern plant breeding and growing methods have also brought about much needed increases in yield.

It’s all too easy, though, to see industrial development as the only path forward. In developed countries, however, we’ve seen the damage done by a focus only on production and profit; a food culture focused only around unthinking consumption, and the resulting epidemic of obesity, tooth decay, and diabetes – so closely linked to the Western food culture that they’ve been grouped together as the “diseases of civilization” when they’ve impacted traditional cultures like Samoa.

The costs to individual and public health are growing; food companies are profiting, but the only benefit to ordinary people is low prices for bad food.

In China, in contrast, one of the first things I noticed was how prevalent market stands selling fresh fruit and vegetables are. Typically, sweets or convenience food from the supermarket will be the more expensive choice. Compare this to the village in Europe where I grew up, where the local fruit and vegetable seller had to close a decade ago as people got more and more used to driving to the supermarket and buying ready-made “meals.”

Nowadays, it is the poor and less educated people in Europe and the US who have a problem with obesity and malnutrition. Well-educated and richer people are the ones who have the time, motivation, and money to go to markets, select carefully, and actually cook meals.

This, in fact, is why food is a part of culture; it’s not just about meeting immediate needs, but about coming together to share meals and finding ways to be and remain healthy.

China has a good chance to avoid the “diseases of civilization,” and to maintain an agricultural economy that is both local and integrated into the world markets. With the variety of ingredients in traditional Chinese food, and the high regard that local cuisine is held in, China still has a more healthy food environment than the US or many parts of Europe.

The challenge is to find ways to keep these traditions alive, to modernize agriculture in ways that don’t blindly follow the industrial model, and to clean up the environment so that the food is clean and healthy. For the pleasure of eating, and for the survival of an ancient food culture, it is a worthy struggle.

Much is being said about China’s education system. Whether gaokao is the best – or at least fairest – system possible or a way to test nothing but nerves and rote memory; how education supposedly destroyed rather than promoted creativity; or simply how the students were too passive and lax.

My experience is with universities abroad, and now in China. No matter where I studied, worked, or simply talked with teachers or professors, the students at colleges or those getting an online education were always too passive, not quite as hard working as they could be, not quite creative enough. (To be honest, I don’t find myself to be as hard working and creative as I would like to be.)

What I find most striking in China, however, is the value that is placed on learning, and a contradiction within that: In traditional Chinese culture, education was one of the highest values, a way to better one’s social standing. And it still is. Students, by and large, seem to be a lot more motivated in China than other places I have been.

Unfortunately, however, the system is such that the final exams at the end of the year, and the graduation certificate at the end of the studies, appear to have too much importance.

The content of the studies, on the other hand, does not have quite the importance it should.
It is not for gaining an academic degree, that one goes to university, it is to get an education, to learn skills and gain qualifications to use in one’s life.

In the field of foreign languages that I work in, this contradiction is very noticeable if one compares the European Union’s system of classifying language skills and Chinese students’ abilities. The EU ranks qualifications from a basic level, the ability to communicate about simple issues of daily life; through medium qualification, at which the language learner can communicate freely in both oral and written form about topics related to studies, family and life; and on to an advanced level, approaching or equal to the language skills of a native speaker.

When it comes to grammar and vocabulary, in theory and for direct translation, many Chinese students are at the intermediate level after an amazingly short time of study – but the ability to communicate effectively, to understand and express arguments, is often very limited. Much of the learning is oriented on passing the exams, not on communication.

Oftentimes, I think that it may be here that many foreign teachers are misled into thinking that there is a general lack of creativity.

Actually, when the language skill is high enough to be applied to an interesting task, I find as many of my Chinese students to be very creative, and as many disinterested, as abroad. Given that this is within a system of teaching that is different from the Western model I use, and given that they are working in a foreign language, I am impressed.

After all, I think it is more of a challenge to the foreign teachers to try and find ways to get the students engaged than it is a failure of “the system” or “the students.” That is not to say that there are no challenges to universities and students, of course.

Most importantly, it feels as if Chinese universities, having grown so quickly, are at a point where universities in my country of origin, Austria, were about a decade ago: with universities standing apart from normal work life.

Universities were trying to argue that their purpose is to produce scientists. Having had to become more responsive to the job market, every study course now has to explain not only what knowledge the students will have to learn, but what skills that they can offer to employers they will acquire, and what careers this opens up. In the future, a university diploma alone will probably not be enough in China, either.

So, it is up to the students to look for ways in which they can deepen their skills and work
on their employability.

In China, this challenge of proving oneself and one’s worth, given the highly competitive nature of the job market for graduates, is certainly even more of a challenge than in Europe or the US.

It is also an approach that universities have barely started using. And universities need to consider what their reason for existence is: to equip students with the skills they will need to build a successful life and a strong country, not merely to hand out a diploma.

For teachers – and first of all, I’m grabbing myself by my own big nose when it comes to this – the challenge is to be responsible for their students, learning to be even better themselves, too.

The flu is never a joking matter, yet it is easy enough to make fun of seemingly exaggerated measures when one is just sitting at home. Seen through the PC screen, this pandemic pales in comparison to what disaster movies make us think a pandemic should be like. Getting on an airplane in times like this brings the issue much closer, and makes some things appear in a different light.

Just recently, I traveled to Hong Kong. Just how small this world has become, how difficult it has become to prevent the spread of a virus, is nowhere more evident than when traveling by air. On the plane, health reports had to be filled in; videos informed about proper precautions; at the airport, thermal scanners were used to control passengers’ body temperatures. Even in the city, signs of concern were seen in many places: plastic over elevator’s buttons, admonishments to protect hygiene on public transport. Yet, of course, life goes on.

The natural scientist in me wants to say that many of those measures are probably not very effective. Somebody with an A(H1N1) infection on an airplane could spread the virus far and wide before showing symptoms, so there is probably little that can be done. In Hong Kong in particular, air conditioning is also used so widely and set to such a low temperature (whereas the outside temperatures are very high), that it would be easy to develop symptoms of a cold just because of that. And so far, A(H1N1) is less strong a disease than the normal flu in any event.

There is no reason to become complacent, though. In the end, although I would probably be unhappy if I had landed in quarantine (I didn’t, and there are no symptoms of anything), I am rather impressed by the Chinese approach: Upon return, there were similar health forms to be filled in again, but there was also a body temperature check by protected personnel while we were still on the airplane. From what I can tell, this alone is a more stringent measure than other countries are taking, and in the end, I think it is a good one.

With the normal flu season coming up soon enough, it is better to be extra cautious. And for China, I’m afraid to say, it is particularly necessary. Before the advent of swine flu, there was great fear about avian flu coming from China. A new flu virus that combines different flu genes could easily arise here. It would be a great strain on the Chinese healthcare system, and it would be just what many foreign media do often seem to be waiting for, some kind of “yellow peril.” Some may say that the quarantine is too much, it certainly is not a perfect measure – but China is in a situation of “damned if you do, damned if you don’t.”

The quarantine measures seem a bit much, but letting the flu slip into the country without doing as much as possible certainly wouldn’t be helpful, would be used to argue that China was not open and cautious enough. Therefore, both considering public health and thinking of world opinion, I was happy to comply with the measures being taken, and am happy they are being taken. “Better safe than sorry” nowhere applies more than when it comes to A(H1N1) at its present stage.