Category Archives: Quandaries and Rants

Practicing Gestational Politics

Practicing Gestational Politics   –by Jinny Batterson

Now that we have apparently elected
a prime verbal ejaculator
to be our putative leader,
it will not do to turn our
hurt and anger inward,
nor will it suffice to cry
out in rage and disgust.

What we must do
instead is to take a short respite,
then to return with renewed dedication
to building bridges across the chasms of race,
class, gender, urban/rural, national origin, affection
that this retrograde campaign has opened up.
We must nurture ourselves, along with
the next generations of humans
and of other creatures
on this lovely planet.

Other Things Some Older People are Thinking and Need to Say Out Loud

Other Things Some Older People are Thinking and Need to Say Out Loud

                       —by Jinny Batterson

This spring, as the U.S. 2016 presidential campaign began heating up, I came across an interview with the daughter of former third party presidential candidate George Wallace of Alabama, most famously noted for having said in 1963, “Segregation now. Segregation tomorrow, and segregation forever.” In late April, Peggy Wallace Kennedy suggested as part of a radio interview that the 1968 third party presidential candidacy of her late father has echoes in the current campaign.

“Trump and my father say out loud what others are thinking but don’t have the courage to say. They both were able to adopt the notion that fear and hate are the two greatest motivators of voters that feel alienated from government,” she remarked.  Much of what Mr. Trump has had to say so far strikes me as racist, xenophobic, misogynistic, jingoistic, reactionary, or all of the above.

It occurs to me on the eve of the 2016 political conventions that both this year’s major party presumptive nominees are my close contemporaries—we are “leading edge boomers,” over a decade older than our current president. Donald Trump (born in June, 1946) and Hillary Clinton (born in October, 1947) are within a year of my age. So here are a few things that I remember from our mutual early adulthoods in the late 1960’s and early 1970’s, compared with our current situation. Candidates may remember them, too, even though they are generally not saying them out loud.

Work: In 1970, about 80 percent of working age men were in the paid labor force, nearly twice the rate of working age women. Since then, that gap has declined significantly. It’s estimated that by 2020, the proportions will be roughly 70% for men and 60% for women. The gender pay gap has also declined, though women’s wages have yet to reach parity with men’s for comparable jobs—an estimate in 2015 put women’s average earnings, across all occupations and wage levels, at roughly 82% of men’s. Wages for all workers, adjusted for inflation, have stagnated since the mid-1970’s.

The number of American manufacturing jobs peaked in 1979, when roughly 19.5 million workers were employed in the manufacturing sector. In 2016, roughly 12.3 million Americans (about 8% of the overall labor force) work in manufacturing. Some manufacturing job losses are the result of outsourcing to lower wage countries; many previous manufacturing jobs have been automated out of existence.

Some segments of the economy, dominant in earlier phases of American history, were at much lower levels by 2014, according to labor statistics: agriculture/forestry/fishing employed less than 1.5% of the workforce; construction accounted for just over 4%; mining only about half a percent. The fastest growing sector is health care/social assistance, which now accounts for about 12% of the labor force.  Professional/business services jobs (12.7%) are also increasing rapidly.

Immigration: The proportion of foreign-born residents in the American population hit an all-time low at the 1970 census. Just 4.7% of Americans then were foreign born.  Both numbers and proportions of foreign-born legal U.S. residents have increased dramatically since then, reaching an estimated 13.3% in 2014. The number of additional undocumented residents is in the range of 10 to 12 million, with an immigration system that nearly all agree is badly flawed.

Military: A military draft in force from 1948 through 1973 affected men aged 19 through 26.  In 1969 and 1970, during the height of U.S. involvement in Vietnam, about half a million Americans served in that country each year, many of them draftees. In late 1969, a birthday-related draft lottery was reinitiated to reduce the uncertainty for eligible young men. With about 850,000 potential draftees to be called up starting in 1970, those with low lottery numbers would be nearly certain to get drafted, while those with high numbers could resume their lives free of worry about military conscription. The draft was ended in 1973.

Active duty military personnel declined in numbers and as a proportion of the population as the Vietnam War and later the Cold War wound down. The post-World-War-II number of U.S. soldiers peaked in 1968 at about 3.5 million. Its current level is about 1.35 million, or less than half a percent of the total U.S. population. About 150,000 troops are stationed outside the U.S.

Some other areas in which substantial changes have occurred since the late 1960’s: Race Relations: major urban riots in 110 U.S. cities following the 1968 assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr. led to better, if sometimes spotty, enforcement of the1964 Civil Rights Act and 1965 Voting Rights Act; increasing numbers of minority voters and elected officials;  Environment: major periodic oil spills; Earth Day; establishment of the Environmental Protection Agency; recognition of global climate change as an issue; Women’s Rights: the Equal Rights Amendment debate; affirmation via the 1973 Roe V. Wade Supreme Court decision of a woman’s right, within limits, to choose whether or not to terminate a pregnancy; Media: from 3 commercial networks plus PBS and NPR to an Internet-laced selection of nearly infinite numbers of channels and viewpoints, many of them unsubstantiated; Political Culture:  increasing frustration with widening wealth and income gaps; lessening civility; splintering of some conventional voting blocs; extensive gerrymandering and attempts at voter suppression.

I’ll likely watch some coverage of both conventions, listening closely to what candidates actually have to say. Improvements in Americans’ lives since I was young have been substantial, but uneven, with periodic backsliding. Much more can be done, but it’s unlikely to take place in an atmosphere of fear and hatred. Much will depend not on the candidates, but on citizens’ willingness to stay engaged, informed, and civil. 

Toward a New Consensus: Voting Thumbs Side

Toward a New Consensus: Voting Thumbs Side    —by Jinny Batterson

Most Americans these days are subjected to increasingly agitated media and political environments—uneasiness about the state of our personal finances and national budgets, evidence of ethnic and racial profiling, demonstrations and counter-demonstrations, terrorism fears, an American presidential contest replete with name-calling and innuendo. A cheery attitude seems somewhat out of place. Still, I keep looking for glimmers of an emerging new consensus, both locally and beyond my geographical area. 

During the late 1970’s, I was exposed to the human potential movement. In intensive workshops, I completed solo, two-person, and group exercises to better understand what motivated me, and what might motivate all of us attendees to interact more humanely and productively with each other. One impression that has stuck with me is that individuals and groups typically exhibit agitated behavior just before transitioning to a different level of organization.

A decade later, I attended an experiential simulation of a five phase change model based on the work of family therapist Virginia Satir: 1) original, decaying status quo; 2) introduction of a “foreign element” that generates resistance; 3) chaos, resulting in a transformative understanding; 4) practice and integration of new learnings, leading to—5) a different status quo. None of us participants wanted to go through the chaos phase. Yet, as the simulation progressed, we each came to recognize that passing through chaos was the only way to transform a system that no longer worked for us, to move toward a newer, generally more inclusive state.       

About the same time, I started attending an annual week-long “un-conference” with other small-scale consultants at “consultants’ camp.”  A decade into the camp experience, an initial phase of “top down” camp leadership ended, and our group went through chaos to evolve an alternate model. Part of the revised model consisted of a single annual morning session to tend to the nurture and future of the camp community through consensus decision making.

One of the most important features in the consensus model we adopted is an open system of thumbs up/thumbs side/thumbs down voting to validate any proposal. Approval requires a strong consensus from all community members—a single “thumbs down” vote defeats a motion. However, because it is highly unlikely that any proposition will be equally pleasing to the whole community, we include a “thumbs side” option. Voting thumbs side is much more participatory than abstaining. While a “thumbs up” indicates enthusiastic support of a proposal, a “thumbs side” shows that the proposal being voted on is not the voter’s first choice, maybe even not his/her fifth or sixth.  However, by voting “thumbs side,”  the voter shows a willingness to abide by the choice of others voting either thumbs up or also thumbs side. A thumbs side voter agrees to support the proposal, if enacted, and to avoid actions that might undermine its implementation. No gossiping, no backbiting, no second-guessing, no requests for reconsideration until the succeeding year’s camp session. This kind of consensus decision-making requires much time, effort, and goodwill among participants, but it seems to generate better long-term decisions and stronger group cohesion. 

The model for our smallish camp (typically 25-35 members) likely does not scale up to broader political discourse. However, other efforts are underway in lots of places to re-establish civil discourse and downplay strictly “either/or” choices. For example, an Institute for Emerging Issues headquartered near where I live in central North Carolina has focussed for the past year on the future of work, trying to come up with long-term strategies to enable North Carolinians to earn living wages in the face of continuing automation and globalization. Localities throughout the world can now organize TEDx conferences to bring together people and “ideas worth spreading,” using a template developed by the evolving non-profit, TED (Technology, Entertainment, Design).  So I remain hopeful, I keep the television mainly off, and I practice strengthening my “thumb side” muscles.         

The Whole Earth Generation(s)

The Whole Earth Generation(s)   —by Jinny Batterson

April 22, 2016 was observed in many countries as “Earth Day.” This annual event, first celebrated in the United States in 1970, has gone global, drawing attention to environmental challenges and the need to cherish this planet, the only one we know can support human life.

By the late 1960’s, the excesses of unchecked industrialization and conspicuous consumption were starkly evident. Our generation, then coming of age in the U.S., had experienced less global armed conflict or material deprivation than our parents’ cohort. Instead, we’d been shaped by the political assassinations of the era, by proxy wars, by the rise of the civil rights movement, and by a growing awareness of the drawbacks of gender inequality. We had a youthful desire for meaningful change—sooner rather than later. Teach-ins were a popular tool on a variety of issues. A Wisconsin senator, Gaylord Nelson, hatched the idea for a national “teach-in” about the environment after viewing the massive 1969 oil spill off the coast of Santa Barbara, California. Twenty million Americans participated.

A little before the first Earth Day was celebrated, a low-cost, no-advertising catalog appeared: The Whole Earth Catalog. Editions were published about once a quarter during the years 1968-1972, and somewhat less regularly thereafter. Many editions carried on their front cover an image of planet Earth as seen from space. The tone of the early catalogs’ introduction was somewhat defiant: “So far, remotely done power and glory—as via government, big business, formal education, church—has succeeded to the point where gross defects obscure actual gains. …(A) realm of intimate, personal power is developing—power of the individual to conduct his(/her) own education, find his(/her) own inspiration, shape his(/her) own environment, and share his(/her) adventure with whoever is interested.” 

The catalog listed its function as “access to tools,” specifically tools that were: 1) useful; 2) relevant to independent education; 3) high quality or low cost; and 4) easily available by mail. 

It may have been through the catalog’s pages that my husband and I were introduced to the work and lives of Helen and Scott Nearing, a professional couple who left city life in Philadelphia during the 1930’s and homesteaded successfully, first in Vermont and later in Maine. The Nearings lived off the land, growing their own food, building their own shelter, writing books and articles about their successes—getting about as far from the “rat race” of corporate culture as one can. Unfortunately, when we tried a similar move in the early 1970’s, we soon learned that we lacked both the homesteading skills exhibited by the Nearings and the stamina to endure the periods of off-land unemployment that are often part of rural life. We retreated to a mid-sized urban area where jobs were more plentiful and the worst excesses of the rat race were less in evidence. We never gave up on the dream of a more sustainable lifestyle. 

Culture and technology have changed a good bit since 1970—the biggest threats to global health and stability can now be more diffuse and harder to tackle than the nation-state wars of preceding generations; civil rights and gender equality have made patchy, uneven, progress; telecommuting has made it more possible to locate in rural settings while still earning a living using mostly urban skills; the Internet has outstripped postal mail as a communications medium. However, some of the basics of human interactions have not changed all that much.

In the Next Whole Earth Catalog, put out in 1981, I found an entry that spoke to me, part of a sidebar called the “Rising Sun Neighborhood Newsletter”:

“If you notice that all the leaders who might make things better get shot you can:
1) Assume their deaths were no coincidence and give up;
2) Spend years proving their deaths were no coincidence and convincing others;
3) Need leaders less.”
When our 2016 crop of putative leaders leaves me unenchanted, I remind myself to need leaders less–some global changes require large-scale interventions, but many more can be carried out at an individual or small group level.

 The “boomer” generation I’m part of is the first to have spent our entire adult lives with images of Earth in all its splendor and fragility as seen from space. The generations coming after ours were born with these images available. I hope they have recognized both their beauty and their vulnerability.  Though we all need leadership at times, I hope that future “whole earth” generations will mature and find their paths realizing that we are all both followers and leaders, and that we need external leaders less.

Public-Private Partnerships

Public-Private Partnerships   —by Jinny Batterson

I don’t use public transportation very often, but lately, while visiting extended family in a faraway city, I had several occasions when I didn’t have easy access to a car. Busses were a viable alternative.  From the look of it, the other folks riding were a fairly diverse bunch, tending toward the lower end of the economic scale—not people I’d typically have met while car-enabled. I was a bit nervous at first, but it turned out that one of my bus experiences was punctuated by a couple of examples of exemplary public service by one particular bus driver.

As I waited for the second bus ride of my day a week or so ago, I was annoyed by the high-volume conversation being carried on by another potential passenger on her cell phone as a group of us waited at a regional transit mall.  I’m a “digital immigrant,” part of the not-quite-doddering generation who grew up without personal computers or cell phones. I continue to be bemused by the amount of personal information that now gets shared in public airspace. “Miss Garrulous,” who looked about 20, was explaining in great detail to her cell phone conversation partner why she was considering breaking up with her current boyfriend. I tried to tune out her most explicit remarks.

Finally our bus prepared for departure. The driver motioned us onto his bus. A slightly less voluble middle-aged man got on, along with me, Miss Garrulous, and several other passengers. Miss Garrulous interrupted her conversation just long enough to put her bicycle onto the carrying rack attached to the front of the bus. As the bus was beginning to move, the middle-aged man rushed back to the front of the bus and requested that the driver wait for just a minute. Rather than stick to his official schedule, the driver assented. The man made a hurried exit-reentry after retrieving his cell phone, which he’d nearly left on a transit mall bench.

Miss Garrulous continued her non-stop description of past and present boyfriends, trysts, and parties from the back of the bus.  She pulled the “stop request” cord several stops before I planned to get off. Relief!  Shortly after her departure, just as the bus was starting up again, the driver pulled on his brake and flashers and hurriedly exited, yelling “Miss, wait!” very loudly.  It turned out that Miss Garrulous had gotten so involved in her conversation that she’d forgotten to retrieve her bicycle.

Bus drivers don’t get extra pay for shepherding the personal belongings of distracted passengers. I was impressed by the care this driver took of his temporary charges.

My favorite recent example of public service, though, comes from “outside the bus.”  The suburban town where I live hires school crossing guards at some of its elementary schools. Their hours are short; their pay is low; their outdoor working conditions are varied and somewhat unpredictable. One particular school sits beside a busy commuter route where the flow of car traffic is heavy and the number of schoolchildren needing to cross is relatively light. I’ve sometimes needed to go that way about the time school is starting or letting out. After several trips, I began to notice this particular crossing guard, an older, somewhat heavyset man with a grizzled beard. He had created a friendly mini-environment for himself, bringing to his work site a collapsible padded chair for when no children were crossing. Rather than just sitting there beside the crossing markers, though, he’d smile broadly and wave at each passing car. The commuting congestion was much less bothersome along the route past “Mr. Sunny.”

It seems to me that there is no ideal mix of “public” and “private” any more. Perhaps there never has been. Still, I wonder if we would be wise to celebrate more consistently the small extra services that occur in our public sphere.  A slight schedule slip, a “Miss, wait!,” or a smile and a wave, may not appear on any financial balance sheet, but they are still worth plenty.

Voting with Our Feet (and other essential body parts)

Voting with Our Feet (and other essential body parts)   —by Jinny Batterson

Recent retirees like me get a lot of health-related information—mailers, email reminders, targeted Internet advertising.  Fairly often, these messages tout the benefits of regular exercise. Walking gets mentioned a lot—helps our circulation, requires little special equipment, can be done anywhere, anytime. So, even in the heat of summer, I try to keep up a regular walking routine. Over the past several seasons, I’ve been doing a good bit of more targeted walking, too, participating in protest marches and fundraisers for causes I think are important.  One of those is global climate change; another is voting.

Last September, I joined hundreds of thousands in New York City to draw global attention both to the problems we’re creating with our profligate use of fossil fuels and to possible alternatives, including the low-tech, available-to-nearly-everyone switch to walking more and using our vehicles less. I got a walker’s high moving along with the varied and huge crowd around me, most in comfortable shoes, some with banners, others with slogans on their clothing, some coasting beside us on skates or bicycles, a few in wheelchairs.

This past week, I joined a smaller, more localized crowd in Winston-Salem, North Carolina to draw attention to the start of a federal court case considering the constitutionality of several restrictive 2013 changes in my home state’s voting laws. The weather was sultry—July in North Carolina can wilt even the most stalwart. However, organizers had ordered thousands of bottles of cool water, and we guzzled it down as we listened to speeches and songs before taking to the streets. We wanted to help reinforce the message that the U.S. Constitution has been repeatedly amended to expand, rather than constrict, the franchise. The 15th amendment gave the vote to male former slaves; the 19th enfranchised women; the 26th, ratified in 1971, reduced the voting age from 21 to 18, giving the ballot to 18 to 20 year olds, including young men subject to military conscription.

I’m most grateful that my tramps have so far been voluntary. Nowadays, a huge number of people are walking for more distressing reasons—the number of international refugees and internally displaced persons has reached a level not seen since World War II. In 2014, nearly 60 million people, about 1 in every 125, were in refugee camps or temporary shelters due to wars and ethnic conflicts around the globe. When armed conflict breaks out, many vote with their feet just to survive.

In Isabel Wilkerson’s 2011 award-winning saga, The Warmth of Other Suns, I read that nearly 6 million African-Americans voted with their feet during the period between 1915 and 1970. These participants in the “great migration” left the Jim Crow south for points north and west, pushed out by fear and discrimination, and/or pulled away by the lure of better opportunities and less blatant oppression.

During my lifetime so far, I have not been forced to vote with my feet because of wars or oppression. However, voting with a ballot is a right I no longer take for granted. Recent quantum leaps in the sophistication and prevalence of gerrymandering make it more difficult for me to cast a meaningful vote, as do both subtle and more blatant attempts at voter suppression. Recent U.S. Supreme Court decisions have made “voting with money” more prevalent, an emphasis I find distressing. The problem has gotten too big for any single citizen, candidate or political party to solve on its own.

At the New York City march, some carried placards proclaiming: “There is no Planet B.”  On a less global level, I wonder, if we destroy our country’s democracy, what “plan B’s” await us? Our union has become considerably less perfect over the past decade or so. Perhaps we can reverse the trend—some of us may have to vote repeatedly with our feet in protest marches. We’ll also need to engage our heads, our hearts, our hands, having serious debates about vital issues, registering and voting, resisting demagoguery and pat answers, listening to each other, working together. Let’s keep walking…

 

 

 

An Inconvenient Spotlight–Tiananmen 1989

An Inconvenient Spotlight: Tiananmen 1989   —by Jinny Batterson

A somewhat blurry video of an unarmed Chinese civilian approaching a line of military tanks near Beijing’s Tiananmen Square on June 5, 1989 has become iconic for Western China-watchers. The man wore a white shirt and dark trousers. He carried a small sack in either hand, as if in the midst of a shopping trip. He emerged from a large crowd and at first stood before the lead tank, then maneuvered to stay in front of it as it swung right or left. Finally, the tank stopped. The civilian climbed up onto the tank and tapped on its turret. For a minute or two, he then conversed with its driver, presumably asking him to alter course and turn back. After that, “tank man” climbed back down and disappeared into the crowd. Before long, the tanks began rolling again. Few are sure what happened to tank man after that.

Parts of what many Westerners know about events at Tiananmen in spring, 1989, exist because the photojournalists who shot the tank man video footage were in Beijing to cover a historic diplomatic event—a meeting between the heads of state of China and the then-U.S.S.R.  These journalists also shone a spotlight on the other events that transpired that tumultuous spring. Events from central Beijing in May and June of 1989 have been in an inconvenient spotlight in the West ever since. Whenever I’ve traveled to China post-1989, I’ve been cautioned to avoid mentioning Tiananmen 1989. I comply. I’ve heard that security at Tiananmen Square is especially tight around the anniversary of the military crackdown there.

The one at-length Tiananmen discussion I’ve had with someone from China occurred around our American kitchen table one night in autumn, 1994.  Then, our house’s  bedrooms were filled with my husband and me, our high school aged son, plus a high school exchange student from France and an international exchange teacher from southern China. I’ll call him Mr. Huang. During the period from 1984 to early 1989, we’d had nearly a dozen short and long-term visitors from China, but Huang was our first Chinese long-term visitor since.

The evening’s exchange of views was probably prompted by a televised American news clip about the debate over annual renewal of the U.S.’s “most favored nation” trading status with China.  U.S. media coverage nearly always included archived footage of June, 1989 events in Beijing. Huang paid careful attention to the footage and the TV commentary. So did the rest of our temporary international family.

Once the news clip ended, our French visitor commented, “It’s a shame that so many of the surviving protesters had to flee to Hong Kong or overseas. They could have helped a lot with economic development if they’d been allowed to stay and contribute without being threatened or jailed.”

Huang at first said nothing.

“From what we saw on television, there must have been a lot of casualties,” our high school aged son chimed in.

“What did you hear about the protests, Huang?” I wondered, hoping to tamp down the teenagers’ rhetoric a notch.

“Not many people died,” Huang informed us. “Most of the ones who were killed were soldiers trying to put down a counterrevolutionary mob.”

“But most of the demonstrators were students or ordinary citizens,” our son retorted. “And we saw people who weren’t soldiers lying bleeding on the streets. We saw ambulances and stretchers. We heard gunfire.”

“How can you tell what happened?” demanded Huang. “You were thousands of miles away. I was at home in China. What I read in the newspapers confirmed that the soldiers were the brave ones. They were the main casualties. I’m glad not more of them were killed.”

“Your newspapers tell you only what they want you to hear,” responded the young Frenchman. “We saw the tanks and tracer bullets on television in France. We heard the explosions. How can we doubt what we saw and heard with our own eyes and ears? Were you in Beijing?”

“I’ve never been in Beijing,” Huang admitted, “but my father served in the People’s Liberation Army (China’s military) during the 1950’s. He was a brave soldier. He fought hard for our country. Our military would never harm another Chinese unless they were trying to destroy the revolution. Our military serves the people—in Beijing in 1989 they were only doing their duty to restrain counterrevolutionaries who wanted to bring down the government.”

After a few more exchanges, we realized that we would never convince each other. The media reports of the protests and any subsequent crackdowns by our respective communications outlets were selective and diametrically opposed. So were our respective backgrounds. By the end of the evening, all we could agree on was one underlying theme: good governance requires considerable self-restraint on the part of both governments and their citizens.

As media in both the U.S. and China become more omnipresent and more invasive, I wonder where the next inconvenient spotlight will shine. Periodic violence continues to erupt in both the U.S. and in China. Both our cultures continue to search for better ways to defuse violent potentials and to resolve differences. Tiananmen happened. It had and has consequences.  It haunts those of us who were alive and paying attention when it occurred. However, the incidents leading up to tank man in 1989 are no more all of China than footage of gun murders or police riots in U.S. cities are all of the U.S.  May all of us find ways to forgive each other and to forgive ourselves.

The May 4 Movement

The May 4 Movement—Beginning of China’s Modern Evolution?

—by Jinny Batterson

This post lags May 4 by a week,  but may have some relevance even so.  What has come to be called the “May 4 Movement” was a series of demonstrations by students and workers in China, starting on May 4, 1919. It was part of a broader “new culture” movement that arose in China during and just after the First World War.  Both New Culture and the May 4 Movement played out during the ferment in China after the fall of the final dynasty of Chinese emperors, the Qing, in 1911.  The immediate trigger for the May 4 protests was news that during international negotiations in Versailles, France, to establish treaty provisions at the close of World War I, China had been denied the return of portions of Shandong Province that were occupied by Germany during the war. Chinese claims were dismissed despite China’s entry into the alliance against Germany in 1917 with the express claim of regaining German-held territory.  Instead, the territory that many Chinese thought was rightfully theirs was temporarily ceded to Japan (which had also fought opposing Germany, and was more advanced industrially than China). The Chinese students felt this was a betrayal, and demanded that China refuse to sign the Treaty of Versailles. According to the Wikipedia description of the May 4 movement, the students, gathered the morning of May 4 in Beijing, also wanted:

—to draw awareness of China’s precarious position to the masses in China.

—to recommend a large-scale gathering in Beijing.

That afternoon, several thousand students assembled in front of the Gate of Heavenly Peace (Tiananmen) in central Beijing, shouting slogans denouncing the terms of the treaty and demanding the resignation of three Chinese officials that they felt had sold out China during the Versailles negotiations.  Some of the students marched to the home of one of the despised officials and set it on fire.  They were later arrested and severely beaten.

The larger context for the protests and movements was a sense that China had fallen behind Western powers and Japan in its industrialization and economic growth, and that basic changes needed to be made in Chinese society and culture if China was to resume a central role in the world order.  Some Chinese intellectuals and writers talked of needing two “doctors” to help cure China’s ills: “Doctor Science” and “Doctor Democracy.”  As May turned to June, protests spread throughout the country, with workers and merchants joining in.  The Chinese government of the time eventually dismissed the three reviled negotiators. China also refused to sign the Versailles treaty, though Japan retained de facto control of portions of Shandong and some Pacific islands.

Some historical sources claim that the ferment of the May 4 Movement, its short-lived partial success, and the eventual rejection of many of its broader demands were factors leading to the establishment of the Chinese Communist Party in Shanghai in 1921. Others indicate that the behavior of the Western powers at the time of the Versailles Treaty in 1919 helped persuade many Chinese to reject Western-style democracy as self-serving and hypocritical.

The debate about the appropriate balance of tradition and of change has never been resolved, either in China or elsewhere. Perhaps it cannot be. Subsequent Chinese political figures as diverse as Mao Zedong and the student leaders of protests in 1989 have claimed the May 4 Movement as part of their inspiration.

This May, demonstrations have continued in some American cities to protest low wages for fast food workers, the death of Freddie Gray in police custody in Baltimore, and other police violence against civilians. Are we all, in a sense, inheritors of the May 4 Movement?

 

Earth Day in China

Earth Day in China   —by Jinny Batterson

During the several years when I was in China in late April, I never noticed any hoopla about Earth Day, celebrated in the U.S. around April 22.  This holiday, founded by environmentalists in the United States in 1970, has yet to catch on in China.  A couple of times, I’ve broached the subject of environmental activism to some of my Chinese students and colleagues.  Over the past generation or so in China, there has been increasing interest in ecological education, as the Chinese economy begins to mature and its natural environment becomes more polluted.

I have mainly benefited from industrial progress in the U.S. for much of my lifetime, so I can find it awkward to discuss “earth friendly” development with Chinese friends.  After I’d given a somewhat glib critique of China’s polluted air at an evening Q&A session several years ago, one younger Chinese colleague retorted:

“Your country spewed great plumes and spurts of toxic chemicals into its air and water for over a century before you began efforts to clean up your dirty industries. What right do you have to criticize us when we’re still just getting started on our development?”

Reaching a consensus on steps our respective governments and cultures can take to reduce our harm to global air and water resources can be tricky.  The trade-offs between economic development and wise resource stewardship are not always obvious.  Citizens in both countries register alarm at some of the damage we’re causing, but what we can do to reduce the harm is not always readily apparent.

Progress toward mutual efforts to reduce some pollutants in our two countries, greenhouse gas emissions, got a boost in November, 2014, when Chinese President Xi Jinping and U.S. President Barack Obama signed a historic agreement with ambitious emissions reduction targets for both countries. The U.S. pledged to reduce its emissions by at least 26% below 2005 levels by 2025; China promised to cap its emissions by 2030, and earlier if possible. Greenhouse gases such as carbon dioxide and methane, coming from industrial, residential, and vehicular sources, are leading contributors to air pollution, as well as likely facilitators of global climate change. If early progress is made toward achieving these goals, it will help further advance broader international agreements at a global climate summit to be held in Paris in December, 2015. (You can read more about the U.S.-China agreement at http://www.washingtonpost.com/business/economy/china-us-agree-to-limit-greenhouse-gases/2014/11/11/9c768504-69e6-11e4-9fb4-a622dae742a2_story.html.)

A non-governmental boost toward paying attention to China’s environment came recently from a former CCTV (Chinese state television) reporter, Chai JIng, who in 2015 produced an independent hour-plus documentary about air pollution problems in China. Chai’s TED-style documentary, “Under the Dome,” also provides historical context from different parts of the world. It cites Britain’s “killer smog” of 1952 (4 days of heavy air pollution in December that year that killed an estimated 12,000 people). It also chronicles Los Angeles’s smog problems. In the period just after World War II, smog in Los Angeles was just as dense and harmful as Beijing’s smog is today. A photograph taken of one of L.A.’s freeways on Christmas Eve, 1948, shows extremely limited visibility. Strict emissions standards strictly enforced have lessened smog there, even as the number of vehicles on area roads has increased.

Chai has said she produced her documentary out of concern for her young daughter, who was born with a benign tumor that may have been caused by pollution. Chai’s presentation was posted to the Internet and had received over 100 million views in China before it was removed from Chinese websites.

It may be slightly ironic that two high-profile recent public events in Beijing—the 2008 Olympics and the 2014 APEC summit (Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation), at which Obama and Xi signed their historic agreement—contributed to increasing expectations among Beijingers that cleaner air is possible.  For both events, polluting industries in surrounding areas were temporarily scaled back or shut down entirely.  Motor traffic into the city was severely restricted. Officials wanted to have “blue sky days” while Beijing was in the international spotlight.

When Earth Day comes around this year, I’ll do my part by increasing my efforts to be more sparing in my use of a car.  I’ll invest more in carbon offsets to reduce the impact of my airline travel. I’ll eat lower on the food chain more often.  I’ll revel in the “blue sky days” that still predominate in the part of the United States of America where I live. In addition to personal lifestyle changes, I’ll work harder toward public policy modifications in my town, county, state, and country to help protect the environment. I’ll think of Chai Jing and her daughter, of my own children and grandchildren. Each of us can do something to move toward a more livable planet for future generations of humans.

Born After the War

Born After the War

(“Hiroshima Day”, August 6, is not much celebrated in the U.S., though  I’ve been told that in Japan it is the occasion for solemn remembrances. In 2000, I had a chance to visit Hiroshima and see the A-Bomb dome, the Peace Museum, and the millions of paper cranes, symbols of peace and hope, sent there by school children from around the world. This musing was prompted by that visit.)

On its anniversary a decade ago, I gave a short commemorative presentation about the atomic bombing of Hiroshima–the first use of atomic weapons–on August 6, 1945.  My audience was attentive.  We all squirmed uncomfortably. After the subsequent silence, people began sharing their stories. Some older attendees had known A-bomb survivors personally.  Most remembered exactly what they were doing when they got news of the bombing–like those of my generation remember the JFK and MLK assassinations, or my children remember the Challenger spaceship disaster.

I’ve sometimes felt both gifted and cheated by the timing of my appearance in 1947, when the worst of  World War II damage was starting to be hidden beneath sprouting weeds and aid programs, although the aftershocks were felt in the growing belligerence among former allies that later came to be called the “Cold War.”  During a 1950’s period of postwar U.S. uneasiness,  hunts were carried out for Communists, domestic and foreign. Perhaps their existence would help explain why, after our recent great resounding victories, so many felt so empty.

One of my grandfathers, the Rebel one, was also born not long after a war, in 1869. His early childhood was spent in a house occupied by Union troops who’d temporarily expropriated a Southern landscape almost as desolate as postwar Hiroshima.  As his brain softened with age, he sometimes relived that childhood, becoming again the scared white boy who dreaded the “n— down the road who carried a pistol for me.”

Sometimes I wonder about the wisdom of those of us born after wars.  We are often the pampered progeny of parents determined to keep us out of harm’s way. They don’t want us to suffer through what they did.  Laudable as their efforts were and are, there are downside risks. Absent at least some suffering, we are all too apt to blunder through life, expecting all obstacles to be removed, planting the seeds of the next wars by blaming each other when stubborn boulders of prejudice, ego and ideology refuse to budge without great effort.