China and Me.

From the beginning, communication with Dr. Jennifer Ruth on China was markedly different from communication I had had with others. It was smooth. We glided from email to email, subject to subject, as with freshly sharpened skates over new ice. With others, our skates rusty, the ice surface pitted, we labored and stumbled. Smooth skating facilitates information exchange. There was an information explosion between Dr. Ruth and me. She produced a paper on China during our exchanges; we shared ideas on an “anthropology” of the Cultural Revolution; should we write a book together on Bian Zhongyun? What did Wang Jingyao have to say when I was there? What to ask Hu Jie? Are there any advantages to being outsiders to China study? Our speed was comparatively enormous. Compared to? I have been communicating with some on China for seven years. I have gotten more information from seven years than from seven weeks; never have I travelled so far so fast.


Why would this be so? We talked about that too. In part it is a function of personality. Dr. Ruth is a very open person. She is fun; communicating with her is fun. She is witty; we laughed. Enjoying another’s company “facilitates information exchange.” She is direct, I am direct. We pose direct questions to one another. We get direct answers. Part of it is cultural. We are both American to the depth of our beings. We speak the same language literally. We speak the same language figuratively: we think similarly. “Yes!” was a not uncommon beginning to a responsive email as when one can finish another’s thought, read another’s mind. I came to know Jennifer so well that I was able to create an uncannily accurate physical image of her in my mind. We are persons; we are American persons. Personality and culture merged and we glided.


Personality and culture on the other side too (Jennifer and I talked about that, too.) Chinese massage discussions, taking the circuitous route rather than the direct approach. A massage is less direct an insult to the psychic muscles than is a punch, more “diplomatic.” The diplomat Henry Kissinger has written that Chinese find Americans’ directness off-putting. Uh-oh. I am like where the army lives: intense. Direct. Not uneducable though. As an attorney I try to avoid putting my opposite number in the position of saying “no” to me. Once people (or Americans anyway) say “no” it can become a habit. I had to learn to do this. It did not come naturally. Take this picture. This is me talking with one of the Gao brothers in Beijing.

There is apparent in this photograph what I can verify from, like, having been there; there is apparent here an asymmetry in directness, no? The asshole American seems to be…leading this discussion, no? He gestures, his hands out in front of him; Mr. Gao wraps himself in his arms, defending against the American insults. Diplomatic discussions are conducted sitting, aren’t they? Everybody sits around a table; I’ve seen pictures of that. Sitting is more relaxed; standing is more challenging, doesn’t it seem so? Sitting also mitigates height differences, height psychologically conveying power. Mr. Gao and I did sit for most of that meeting. I can only think that we were standing because he did point out his work on the back wall there, the one with all the dictators, but we should have sat back down after examining the painting. I don’t know what we were talking about there but it doesn’t look like Mr. Gao was doing much talking. MY BAD.

Being direct makes for shorter meetings though. Jennifer and I talked about that. We don’t like small-talk; don’t like meetings that don’t GET TO THE POINT. Mr. Wang and I sat. Mr. Wang and I sat all the time. We sat for three days. I still didn’t learn who beat his wife to death. Why a three-day meeting that never got to the point? I think that is a Chinese thing. Chinese are renowned for their hospitality. It would be insulting (to them) not to meet. There is something more important: "You will never be Chinese" was the title of an article Dr. Frank Dikotter sent me some months ago. The Foreigner encounters walls in China. The Foreigner encounters walls with Chinese. "China's Great Wall of Silence"--on Bian Zhongyun's murder--was the title suggested to me by Dr. Youqin Wang. That I was not and never would be Chinese almost trumped Chinese hospitality with Mr. Wang. He called it off. "Why are you bringing a foreigner into your personal matters? his relatives asked him. Thus, as with Dr. Johnson's observations on the dancing three-legged dog, the wonder of the meeting with Mr. Wang was not that it came off well, the wonder was that it came off at all. So, sitting and being diplomatic do not necessarily produce results.

However, I have gotten the impression, though too late with Mr. Gao :( , that I have over-loaded the circuit boards of some Chinese with my intensity. During our intense email exchanges Jennifer told of her maddening interactions with Chinese. One man in particular was throwing mixed signals; there was an accordion-like opening…and closing, opening…and closing. It called to my mind two things. It called to mind a passage in Remembrance of Things Past. The narrator cannot make out a man who is at once charming and solicitous only to become cold and indifferent and then scolding when his cold indifference actually keeps the narrator away. Didn't he know? The man had wanted them to be close all along? It led to a humorous, exasperated outburst by the narrator. And Jennifer’s experience called to mind my own, especially one, one of the seven-year ones. I got a lot of information in seven years but our skates have always been rusty, the ice always treacherous and I gave up. After getting no response to an email in 2011 I let the communication lapse. Deluded by gliding with Jennifer, I emailed the person again. I got a response: “Thank you so much for emailing me.” Ah. So nice. I felt bad I had given up. Then a pretty significant piece of information. Then a nice, “How’s life treating you?” I was alarmed by the pretty significant piece of information and emailed back, "tell me more.. No response. Emailed again, "talk to me, please." No response. Too direct, I guess. I give up.