Mixed Pedagogy: ISF Academy Hong Kong →

Basically, they (ISF) are offering a curriculum intense enough to develop high-functioning Chinese language skills, but in a Western, non force-fed, curiosity-stimulating format. To paraphrase how ISF insiders described it, their academy is high-octane Chinese with a Western Pedagogy. The Headmaster, Malcolm Pritchard, embodies this himself,  blending the Brahmin Anglo boarding school vibe with cracking Jiangnan-accented Chinese.  

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ALL IN ONE RHYTHM

FIFA World Cup 2014 Brazil has as its official slogan and song: ALL IN ONE RHYTHM. That beg's the question: have you been to a Latin party? Have you been to a wedding in Mexico or just witnessed any of the video that streams out of Brazil during Carnaval? India and Bollywood have their cheesy, scripted dance numbers (Bhangra is pretty awesome, of course), but in Latin America music and dance are something vastly more participatory. Everyday people lose themselves; it takes a little bit of alcohol, some tunes, and a moderately level surface (like a creaky, three-legged table top), and as Glenn Frey said, “the heat is on!” I’ve never seen a person melt into a dance beat like they do in Latin America.

My experience is somewhat limited on this subject, but I’ve still been to Dominican birthday in the Bronx, I’ve been to the Tango capital of Buenos Aires, and of course, I’ve been to Rio de Janeiro during Carnaval. There were big, virtual message boards blinking messages in Portuguese about delays, which could have just said “I’m not the dummy who got stuck on the wrong side of Rio during Carnival.” It turns out that I was going to Manaus, way up North, for a trip up the Amazon and the Rio Negro; the Rio stopover was perfectly timed to coincide with the festivities. In my mind, I would just jump off the plane, sashay over to Sugarloaf, and an Astrud Gilberto look-alike would have a fresh coconut juice waiting for me as we watched the floats go by. Well, not quite. But I thought it would be folksy. Well, the scale of this thing was beyond anything I could imagine. It was like a fractal diagram, which just kept revealing itself to go on and on, forever. The whole city shut down. “For a dance party,” I kept muttering contemptuously, probably in some Ukrainian accent just to amuse myself (that is what solo travelers are reduced to).

Well, in my defense, maybe I was just grumpy because what was once open to the public they now charge for. Two hundred U.S. dollars, in this case, just to get in the door. In Rio they have a Sambódromo, which is a semi-enclosed roadside arena erected at the final stretch of the procession. People trained for months, they made costumes by hand, maybe hand-plucking their own peacock feathers or polishing their own cubic zirconia- who knows? Nothing would surprise me at this stage. I have been to big events, like the 2002 World Cup in Yokohama, Japan or the fiftieth anniversary of the founding of the People’s Republic of China in Beijing in 1999, even the Lord of The Rings: Return of The King premiere in Westwood California with the whole cast in attendance; nothing was even close to the energy of Carnaval[i]. The idea that came to mind with Carnaval is Napoleon. I was thinking about how Napoleon made the whole setting up of his artillery a strategic thing, staging and mobility were all part of his new concept of warfare. In Brazil, there is no beginning and end to Carnaval, Brazil is Carnaval. Maybe because I didn’t have a chance to attend, and all I could do was observe the city of Rio, but it was the happiest place on earth. Music and the beat rule all, I’m sure there are psycho-stimulants involved to some degree, and of course sexuality undergirds all of Carnaval. It is one giant release, a massive indulgence, and for Brazil and other so-called “Cultures of Joy,” they live for it.

The flipside of Carnaval is Lent, that solemn Catholic occasion with lots of fasting and lots of repentance. It is rather masochistic, this juggling of extremes, and of course, so is Lent itself. But maybe it is designed to be that way. Every year, people go nuts during Carnaval, which immediately precedes Lent. Then, after what is sometimes called “Fat Tuesday,” on Wednesday they repent. They drop everything and reverse into how sorry they are for what they have done.

This dualism of extreme indulgence and extreme restraint was always a bit jarring. I got a real kick out of going to Brazil, but the extremity of it all never made sense, especially when every so-called repentant Brazilian knew full well that they were just going to do the same thing next year.

Fundamentally, I think the Western outlook on this subject is similar to the Chinese one in terms of seeking more tempered expressions of indulgence and restraint. Weber’s The Protestant Work Ethic rings true with modern White Anglo-Saxons, on both sides of the Atlantic. The WASP culture that is well-preserved in America’s old yacht clubs like the Duxbury Yacht Club, in Duxbury, Massachusetts, or other places like Augusta National, or the Bel-Air Bay Club in sunny California, is firm about tempering indulgence. No matter how wealthy you may be, these places are loathe to endorse conspicuous consumption. No clothing is meant to be too new, nothing is supposed to be too shiny. Business conversations are generally frowned upon in club quarters. There is a lot in common with the Chinese ethic in those respects.

Chinese people are rather allergic to dancing in public. Music has never been much a part of the culture. I have been to two major concerts in Hong Kong featuring foreign pop stars in recent memory; the first was Kanye West in 2007, and the second was Jennifer Lopez in 2012. I am the worst dancer myself, but jeez, I wanted to at least stand up, and at least bloody tap my foot. But the crowd stayed seated for virtually all of the J.Lo concert. Some will point to the die-hard fans of Canto Pop and say that I am mistaken, that in fact Chinese do have rhythm. But it is much different than, say Colombia, Argentina or Brazil. Shaking your booty, just surrendering your body to the beat is just too sensual, too indulgent. For a culture that has a hard time praising their kids when they get an “A,” this is none too surprising. It is a different relationship to the music that Chinese have. Rather than a Stendhal Syndrome, a type of rapture certain viewers of art in the 19th century were diagnosed with, it is less participation rather than appreciation. Sure the Canto Pop stars, and the K Pop ones and all the others, have their skimpy outfits and well-rehearsed suggestive moves, but the audience is passive. Maybe K Pop acts have to be so over the top, so elaborate and highly scripted because the East Asian audiences offer no feedback, no energy to feed off of? They are there to take it in and of course, enjoy. But they never surrender themselves, sacrificing their bodies to the Gods of rhythm.

 

[i] My little sister will not like this, but I was on fainting-alert due to her proximity to Orlando Bloom, who of course, plays Legolas Greenleaf.

More on Bouncing Around (The Frank and Ernest Story)

One of the side effects to bouncing around, as described in yesterday's post, is that tweaking your approach to every particular situation, being ad hoc in every instance, means you often sink to the lowest common denominator. You settle. You are like a fire truck, zipping around reactively putting out fires. You come under enormous pressure to base your decisions on pissing off the fewest number of people. And let us sing it: These are not the foundations to developing leadership. You will game situations, as we mentioned, doubting your own instincts as your rational brain whirrs up, informing you of all the reasons each side has their own legitimate grievances, each worth their own hearing. The amount of situational awareness, patience, and energy you have to gather, and stay on top of is burdensome to say the least. 

There are other, maybe even more troublesome aspects of bouncing around.

Samuel L. Jackson's character, Mitch Henessey, in The Long Kiss Goodnight delivers one of his most memorable lines of the movie, on a fake version of Larry King Live: "I'm always frank and earnest with women. Uh, in New York I'm Frank, and Chicago I'm Ernest.

It is funny. It is. Well, Samuel L. is funny, almost no matter what. Anyhow, I do want to tie this into the discussion of mixed race, and again I am speaking about what I know, specifically Chinese and Western.

He is a lovable ol' dirty bastard, who gets away with his schthick because he is on the right side of creepy. But Samuel L. is clearly "bouncing around." He's grabbing the low-hanging fruit. The delivery is funny and all, but intuitively we know something is off. If only the women in Chicago knew that he wasn't Ernest when he's in New York- we know he'd be in deep trouble. 

He'd be doo doo in Chicago and pxx pxx in New York instead.

I think that in the case of mixed people, there is something similar that goes on. It is not exactly the same- it doesn't have to do with licentiousness or New York or Chicago- but it is similar and it happens chronically.

That is, you play up the Chinese when it suits you, and play up the Western when that suits. For example:

  • You are Chinese amongst a Western group when, for example:
    • Chinese food comes up, or Chinese History, or Confucius or Aaron Kwok, or elite Chinese politics, or Beijing, or Chinese manners come up- and you embrace the sudden authority you have, all of a sudden. The only problem is this is a topic that you don't know that much about. 
  • You are Western amongst a Chinese group when, for example:
    • You are observing some arcane funereal rite, or you are visiting someone's distant relatives, or reading the social tea leaves, or required to be quiet or deferential or obsequious. 

One of the problems is that you are committing argumentum ab auctoritate: you are arguing from a position of inappropriate authority. On the flipside- the problem is you are taking a powder on the very type of topics you were supposed to be an expert in with your Western friends. 

If only the Western friends knew what you were saying to your Chinese friends! And vice versa! Welcome to Chi-York!!!

The danger in all of this is you become a musical conductor who loses sight of the composition. If that happens, all you are left with is a bundle of harmonious notes. You don't want to bounce around, because even though you may think to yourself- well, I'm just doing it for this one instance, for this one day, or for this one task, every time you do it you forget what it is you are bouncing from, and bouncing to.

In the end, you just want to be you- right?

 

 

 

"Bouncing Around" as Theme for Mixed People


Mixed people have to deal with “bouncing around.” There are different terms that folks use, but “bouncing around” to me includes both (1) others pushing you around such that they would restrict your identity, and (2) you yourself making near-sighted choices about your identity, for example, embracing “exotic” when it is cool, while being outraged by “exotic” when it doesn’t suit you.

This old yarn exemplifies the first half of “bouncing around:”


The white man said, "Colored people are not allowed here."
The black man turned around and stood up.
He then said: "Listen sir....
when I was born I was BLACK,"
"When I grew up I was BLACK, "
"When I'm sick I'm BLACK, "
"When I go in the sun I'm BLACK, "
"When I'm cold I'm BLACK, "
"When I die I'll be BLACK."

"But you sir."

"When you're born you're pink, "
"When you grow up you're white, "
"When you're sick, you're green, "
"When you go in the sun you turn red, "
"When you're cold you turn blue, "
"And when you die you turn purple."
"And you have the nerve to call me colored?"


The black man then sat back down and the white man walked away....


The Black man is Black, and proud, and steady, and resolutely Black. There is something so poignant about this joke- such an indictment, told, of course, in jest. The White man has all these things he is allowed to be, all of these changing identities- this sum of power- the power to re-mold one’s identity, change it by fiat, and expect others to adjust their schema immediately.

Ludacris alludes to this idea in his song "Hopeless"

Ludacris "Hopeless"

We realize that the Black man in the joke has to both adjust externally, and be restricted internally- hyprocrisy; utterly a bum deal it is, meaning little means to negotiate one’s identity.

Has Chinese and Western, it is never as stark as described in the joke- neither in Greater China, nor in the West, but that is not to say that bouncing around is not an issue.

The second half of “bouncing around,” I’d describe as follows.

While working in Mainland China- there was perpetually an issue of “what approach should I take to this hour’s problem?” I had to compute on an ongoing basis, “well, this would be more of a Chinese approach, yet this is a Western supplier, so is he going to assume his classic, go-to approach, or is he going to adjust for the circumstances, namely- is he posturing for how I’m likely to act?” Everything becomes an exercise in game theory. Could I not go to a golf game or other social function or would the implicit task related to “task A” actually be bloody important? I mean, how should I craft business correspondence: “do I make it direct or more obtuse and/or flowery? Do I come out of the gate with the main point in the first line, as every American English teacher will tell you for your tenth grade thesis, or do I bob and weave and leave it out till the end?” How do I handle negotiations, or negotiate the expectations of business favors from suppliers or vendors? There is rarely any absolute truth in the business world, no matter the country, no matter the culture. But what happens when your sensitivity is used against you? These are the types of cultural claims a mixed person has to deal with. They are relentless. They come at you in such a way that if you pay them the wrong type of heed, you’ll have narrower and narrower bandwidth to ponder the bigger picture.

And that is the issue with “bouncing around.” Sometimes you want to just fall into someone else’s stereotypes. You can’t be bothered. You take the easy road. I know, I know. It’s tiring otherwise, and people can be rude, and obnoxious, and seem racist even, at times.

But. Avoiding “bouncing around” is the only way to really negotiate your identity.

 

My Afghan Roommate at Fletcher

One of my roommates at The Fletcher School, a few years back, was an Afghan. He was an ethnic Hazara and grew up displaced from his homeland, spending twenty years in Iran. He, my other roommate, a tall Swiss Army Officer, and I would routinely sit down and talk in our humble but cozy suite at Blakeley Hall, on the Tufts Campus. Some of us would drink tea. Others would partake in cold Swedish snus, straight out of the Haier mini-fridge. One evening, my Swiss roommate intimated that he might propose to his girlfriend. “Awesome!” we said.

Our Afghan roommate, found this an opportunity to open up a little bit, and he proceeded to tell us about his marriage. He was, at the time, the only married man amongst the three of us. He was clearly bitter about some of his experiences, being a refugee, and now with every Skype call back home there was probably a small gulp down his throat as he was told the days news in Afghanistan, as the ratio of bad news to good news was usually much higher. He told us about how the concept of intermarriage, inter-ethnicity is extremely taboo, especially between Hazaras and Pashtuns. He told us about how he was thinking of running for office in Afghanistan, and how no Pashtun would ever vote for him, but if Hazara tribal leaders affirmed him he could expect 90% plus of the Hazara votes. He told us about how he was planning to start a family.

He told us about his wedding. He said: “well, so, we were in X valley in Afghanistan, and there were many people in attendance, and anyhow, I was pretty tired from planning it…”  “Wait, dear Afghan roommate, yeah right, you mean you were tired from helping your fiancé plan it, right? I said. “Oh, no, I planned the wedding. In Afghanistan and Iran, of course the men plan the weddings,” he said.

The point of the Afghani interlude is to reflect on our whole enterprise, of contrasting these opposing forces. Really, they are on a spectrum, like masculinity and femininity these concepts are jumbled up even in the more alpha or omega characters, its only in comic books that they appear in entire, pure form. The men planning weddings in Afghanistan and Iran is just an example that the same spectrum also warps around a curve, and actually completes itself in a circle, sort of how anarchists and fascists are so far apart that they horseshoe close to each other, also close enough to kiss.

In other words, the manly men in Iran are so controlling, so dominating over the women, in their macho social structure, that they end up planning the weddings too. They are the ones picking out the processional music, deliberating over outfits, or puzzling over particular shades of Lapis Lazuli for the table arrangements- people will ultimately find their own equilibrium of Masculinity vs. Femininity.

 

Cantonese and Other Dialects

I met someone in Hong Kong the other night from a publicly listed Chinese Tech company. His company is headquartered in Shenzhen. I wondered whether or not he speaks Cantonese (粵語，廣東話，or more colloquially on the Mainland 廣州話).

Baidu gives a number of eighty dialects, but the specifics of what counts as a dialect and what doesn’t is a doozy. To those hailing from smaller communities, which in China probably means entities containing fewer than 100,000 people, with fewer tongues speaking that particular vintage of local dialect, why doesn’t theirs “count?” To Beijingers for example, the Cantonese dialect that is spoken by about as many people as speak Italian around the world, Cantonese is “earthy.” It is “bird talk.” If a Beijinger wants to amp up the insult factor, they would call a Cantonese speaker, or probably a speaker of any other dialect, a “bird person.”

It turns out he does speak Cantonese- that is his lingo. Anyone who visits Hong Kong and predicts that because Mandarin is more and more commonly heard, means that this comes at the expense of Cantonese, only has part of the picture. Hong Kong's facility in English is what is declining- but with tens of millions+ strong native Canto speakers in the Mainland, and a wider group who speak it as a second tongue (I'm thinking Fujiannese, Guangxinese, Hainannese), Cantonese is doing just fine.

Balance 6.4

Hong Kongers are practical. This is the ethos; this is verifiable fact.

Practical can mean balanced. It means keeping your head down and "getting on with it." It means walking past the nutters, ignoring the quacks.

But every once in a while, even the most practical people, those who would much, much prefer business-like stoicism must say something. 

There is a group in Hong Kong called the "Voice of Loving Hong Kong" (香港之聲). They have a multimedia campaign that pronounces that no casualties were suffered, at all, twenty five years ago.

There are political reasons why these are "sensitive issues." We get it. No savvy HK person doesn't get that. But to be so crass- so smug- to not only say "no comment," but to brazenly affirm that nothing happened is just such an affront. Such a baldfaced disregard for one's own plausible deniability (in the case the facts do, at some point, prove them wrong), is shocking, if not just sad. Shame on "Voice of Loving Hong Kong."