Alessandro Albana, Clash of capitalisms? A Tentative Interpretation of China-Europe Relations

For some time, at least since the end of Maoism and the unveiling of the Reform-era between the 1970s and the 1980s, Europe-China relations were seen with a mixture of hope and apprehension. From the Western perspective, hope was founded on the new course of the Chinese economy ushered in by Deng Xiaoping, whereby China was considered no longer an alien to – not to say a foe of – capitalist development heralded by the Western world. To the contrary, the establishment of the first Special Economic Zones (SEZs) in Guangdong and Fujian seemed to set China on the same development path as the capitalist hemisphere, slowly but significantly distancing Beijing from its Asian tradition,[1] and bringing it closer to the West.[2] On a more practical note, the opening-up of China’s market was seen by European and North American institutions, political bodies, companies and traders as an unprecedented source of economic opportunities. Significantly, rather than trying to mitigate such views, PRC authorities did welcome and fed into them. Yet, seen from the West (i.e. Europe and the US), China appeared, to some extent, representative of another political history, social tradition, cosmological view, and there were reasons not to believe that the “otherness” – again, as seen by many in the Western hemisphere – the PRC embodied could have never been fundamentally changed. In sum, from a Western perspective, Beijing’s venture into economic reforms provided positive expectations, but concerns over a prospective, consistent, and comprehensive integration of China’s market into global capitalism still remained.

When, the night between 3 and 4 June, 1989, tanks and soldiers brought to an end the mobilization that flourished in Beijing and other major cities since the early months of the year, Western concerns seemed to have finally become real. Apparently, the Tiananmen massacre disclosed to the foreign world, and to the West more prominently, that for all the reforms that turned China’s economic structure upside down, and despite the past decade was vibrant in terms of the circulation of ideas and, to some extent, even political criticism within China’s society, leaders in Zhongnanhai were far from considering political reforms of liberal influence.

From a different perspective, however, the Tiananmen massacre can be seen as the event that sealed the transition of China’s economy towards capitalism, a process that the Chinese leadership seemed adamant to secure against potential or actual shocks coming from social criticism or political opposition. Whether such oppositions claim democratic reforms, i.e. demand a transition towards the political system that have most effectively guaranteed capitalist development, makes little difference.[3] If, in Deng’s words, “It doesn’t matter whether a cat is black or white, as long as it catches mice,” the same principle can be employed elsewhere: as long as capitalist development is guaranteed, who cares about the nature of the political regime? In fact, soon after the Tiananmen massacre, European countries and the US rushed to provide the PRC opportunities for reconciliation. By 1990, most of the sanctions imposed by the European Community (EC) on China were lifted. In 1991, bilateral relations were fully restored, the European embargo on Chinese arms being the only significant exception.

Throughout the 1990s, relations between the PRC and the newly established European Union (EU) thrived, not only in the economic and trade realm, but also in terms of academic, cultural, and scientific cooperation. Under such circumstances, it is not surprising that diplomatic exchanges and political ties were subjected to increasing institutionalization. Fueled by growing mutual understanding, the institutionalization of bilateral relations resulted in the promotion of annual summits starting in 1998, and the officialization of the strategic partnership in 2003. Yet, the rise of China on the global stage raised unease in the West, as demonstrated by the popularization of the “China threat” theory. In the utmost realist display, China’s remarkable development was seen as resting inextricably on the demise of the Western order secured by the US hegemony. But for all the fears and uncertainty that were integral to the bilateral relations, China, and the West – and particularly China and Europe – kept exchanges and communication alive. In Beijing, for instance, concerns over the increasing popularity of the “China threat” theory in the West were a key factor behind the drafting of the “Peaceful Development” (和平发展/heping fazhan) theory. Elaborated by CPC intellectual and political advisor Zheng Bijian, the theory postulated that, while apparently embarked on a path of dramatic development, China was not poised to provide a challenge to the world order, let alone overturn it. The theory, a milestone of the Hu Jintao era (2002 – 2012), represented a crux of a leadership committed to providing the world a picture of China as a cooperative, reliable, and responsible power. Europe, for its part, found increasing interest in potential convergences with China in a world increasingly moving towards a multipolar setting, even while maintaining its criticism over human rights violations and level playing field in the economic realm. Until the 2010s, the picture of China-EU relations was mixed. In this context, as the EU pushed towards increasing engagements with Beijing[4] reasons to hope for improvements, though slow and impeded, were not scant.

Recently, Xi Jinping’s ascent to the top post of the Chinese leadership seems to have had a significant impact on China-EU ties, bringing about a dramatic shift in bilateral relations. Xi’s leadership has been acknowledged as a rupture in the continuity pathway of post-Mao political governance.[5] Yet the reasons behind such a rupture, and its implications for China-EU relations in turn, often appear not to be entirely grasped.

Despite the mounting European criticism towards China that focuses on the traditional issues of human rights abuses and unfair economic practices, it would be more correct to see in the new (or renewed) nature of China’s capitalism – i.e. a model where the existence of a capitalistic market does not translate in the absence of strong state control, thus establishing an alternative to capitalism with liberal characteristics – the core and key factor behind Europe’s unease. By no means such a perspective denies the reality of Xi’s authoritarian turn, nor does it ignore or justify the impact of Xi’s governance on daily life for the Chinese population, and especially for the “low-end population” (低端人口). In the same vein, it would be misleading and deceitful not to recognize that, for at least four decades since the end of Maoism, Europe has tolerated much of what China has done in the (silent) name of the economic opportunities it provided. Would it be remiss to remember that not even the Tiananmen massacre provoked lasting shocks on bilateral relations? And is it trivial to highlight the many controversial (at the very least) international relations Europe entertains, or the EU migration policies delivered through agreements with next-door tyrants or failed states, costing billions of euros and, most importantly, causing pain and death in the Mediterranean Sea and the Balkan route?

Under Xi, China’s socialist market economy morphed into a more influential and, to some degree, disruptive form of capitalism compared to the past. From Europe’s perspective, however, China’s capitalism most heinous problem seems to stem from its freshly acquired independence from the paradigms established globally throughout more than a century of liberal capitalism. The fact that Beijing is now capable and willing to develop its own strategic assets in finance, infrastructure, and technology, drives China farther away from the actual or potential exercise of Western control through the existing actors, mechanisms, and governance of the global liberal capitalism. In this light I read many, if not every, major economic and political initiatives of Xi’s China, including the Belt and Road Initiative (一带一路/yidai yilu), the “Chinese Dream” (中国梦/zhongguo meng) of national rejuvenation, and the “Double Circulation” (国内国际双循环/guonei guoji shuang xunhuan). Peculiar to all such endeavors is the intimate relation between the health and safety of national capitalism and Beijing’s – i.e. the CPC’s – capability to adapt and thrive in a changing contemporary world.

The perceived ontological guilt represented by the “otherness” of China’s capitalism, denies exactly what the West and Europe expect from the development of capitalism in the PRC: to bring the country closer to the Western cosmology.  As a result, Beijing is targeted by stubborn requests to “do its part” and behave more responsibly in the global stage. Take, for instance, EU’s criticism over China’s approach to the Russian invasion of Ukraine. Beijing is accused of supporting Moscow in its “special military operation,” endangering international security and stability. But since February 25th, 2022 (just one day after the beginning of the Russian invasion Ukraine), the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the PRC issued a five-point declaration stating that “the sovereignty and territorial integrity of all countries should be respected […] and [this] applies equally to the Ukraine issue,” also recognizing Russia’s security concerns over NATO’s eastward expansion as “legitimate.” The declaration goes on to reaffirm other traditional tenets of China’s foreign policy, such as the priority represented by international stability (i.e. bringing hostilities to an end as soon as possible) and opposition to sanctions. Importantly, the document states that China “welcomes the earliest possible direct dialogue and negotiation between Russia and Ukraine” and calls for the UN Security Council to play “a constructive role in resolving the Ukraine issue.” Despite the document providing few surprises to those who are familiar with Beijing’s foreign policy, it is striking to see European authorities and politicians reiterate that China is Russia’s closest ally in Putin’s bellicose pursuit. Later in 2022, according to some reports, several Chinese companies curtailed or even suspended their trade with Russia, and yet Beijing was portrayed by many in Europe as Putin’s best friend against Ukraine. If the reality of the Sino-Russian partnership cannot be denied, it would nonetheless be debatable, at the very least, that Beijing fully supports Moscow in the Ukraine war, as widely believed among leaders, China watchers, and the media in the EU.

All of that provides an enlightening glimpse into Europe’s perspective on China. Regardless of what PRC authorities say or commit to, Europe seems not willing to take the chance of taking it seriously. The main objection here is well known: is China honest regarding its actions and goals? If the question is hard to answer, there seems no reason not to apply equal doubts to other countries’ conduct. If Europe’s ambitions go as far as to expect Beijing to break its relationship with Moscow, for example, there should be serious debate over European leadership capabilities to ground relations with the PRC on realistic grounds.

It would be useful to reaffirm here that disclosing the disjunctions of Europe’s approach to China does not entail the acceptance or approval of the authoritarian turn occurring in the PRC. And for all the conflict between capitalist models, it would be shameless to overlook the bilateral estrangement involving (stated) political values on both sides. It is telling, in this regard, that in early 2021 the European Parliament approved sanctions against China over human rights abuses and the deteriorating socio-political environment in Hong Kong and Xinjiang. Beijing reciprocated, going as far as to sanction a German think tank and a number of China scholars. Later, the unraveling of bilateral relations impacted the long-awaited Comprehensive Agreement on Investment (CAI). Negotiated since 2013, the CAI had finally got everyone on both sides of the table to reach an agreement in December 2020, only to find its ratification opposed by the EU Parliament over the many controversies concerning the 2021 bilateral sanctions. Not surprisingly, economic controversies paved the way for growing political divergence in bilateral relations.

Against such a complicated backdrop, confusion informs a great deal of the European strategy on China. The “Strategic Outlook” released in Brussels in 2019 is telling in this regard: the document portrays China as “acooperation partner with whom the EU has closely aligned objectives, a negotiating partner with whom the EU needs to find a balance of interests, an economic competitor in the pursuit of technological leadership, and a systemic rivalpromoting alternative models of governance.” Although the Outlook goes on to urge the EU to enforce “a flexible and pragmatic whole-of-EU approach,” it is apparent that China has come to be seen mainly as a “systemic rival” that provokes apprehension and unease in Europe. In this context, individual European countries such as Germany and France for the first time issued their own “Indo-Pacific Strategy.” The EU followed suit in 2021. Unsurprisingly, concerns over China’s play in the region are central for all the three.

Finally, the unraveling of bilateral relations is tangible beyond diplomacy and institutional politics. With only few exceptions, European audiences seem to oppose stronger ties with Beijing, citing concerns spanning political values, economic investments, military security, and even cultural relations. Discrimination and racism against Asians and Chinese individuals in Europe have also become worrisome, especially during the early outbreak of COVID-19 in 2020.

In Europe, a continent where China Studies has become the subject for an increasing pool of scholars, where Mandarin is becoming more popular as a foreign language to be studied at universities and even high-schools, from where the PRC has attracted a soaring number of emigrants and researchers, one would have expected more distinct capabilities to understand China beyond capitalistic-orientalistic lenses. That such a process is far from occurring anytime soon is telling. And that political leaders and governments sometimes do not refrain from promoting pointless, short-lived, and ridiculous initiatives on China,[6] concurrently showing shallow attitude to design policies based on evidence, inputs and suggestions arising from an even larger community of experts, is all the more concerning. But the chances for Europe to pursue its relationship with China more honestly are not lost. Provided that Beijing will also be willing to reciprocate.

 

Alessandro Albana is an adjunct professor at the Department of Asian and North African Studies of the Ca’ Foscari University of Venice. He earned his PhD in “Global and International Studies” from the University of Bologna. He collaborates with the Asia Institute in Bologna, and the Fudan Development Institute at Fudan University in Shanghai. His research interests span the domestic politics and foreign policy, the political development, and the social movements of China and East Asia.

Notes

[1] See Fu, Zhengyuan. Autocratic Tradition and Chinese Politics. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1993. According to Fu, “Politics in the PRC cannot be and has not been detached from [its] autocratic imperial tradition. Although the CCP leadership brought new political styles and rhetoric in terms of organization and ideology […] more and more evidence appeared showing the persistence of traditional values underlying institutional and behavioral patterns.”

[2] I expect objections to such a statement. The debate over the nature of the Chinese economic model is vibrant and I would be careful to describe China’s market as purely capitalistic. Yet, I am firmer in interpreting Beijing’s play in the international economy as entirely consistent with, and complementary to, the development of global capitalism. In this regard, the PRC is here portrayed as a capitalistic entity.

[3] In the mobilization of 1989 coexisted several different political claims and ideas, not necessarily advocating democratic transition or the end of the CPC rule. For a comprehensive account of the social groups and political ideas conflating into the mobilization, see Wasserstrom, Jeffrey N., and Elizabeth Perry (eds.). Popular Protest and Political Culture in Modern China. Abingdon & New York: Routledge, 2018.

[4] See Cottey, Andrew. “The European Union and China: Partnership in Changing Times.” In The European Union’s Strategic Partnerships. Global Diplomacy in a Contested World, edited by Laura C. Ferreira-Pereira and Michael Smith, 221-44, Cham: Palgrave Macmillan, 2021.

[5] See, for instance: Economy, Elizabeth C. The Third Revolution. Xi Jinping and the New Chinese State. New York: Oxford University Press, 2018; Wang, Zhengxu, and Zeng, Jinghan. “Xi Jinping: The Game Changer of Chinese Elite Politics?.” Contemporary Politics 22, no. 4 (2016): 469-486. https://doi.org/10.1080/13569775.2016.1175098.

[6] The establishment of the “China Task Force” by the Italian government in 2018 is telling in this regard. Whereas the body was tasked with providing support to the government in Rome in order to strengthen economic ties with Beijing, details regarding its membership, assignments and deliverables are shrouded in mystery. At the time of writing, the Italian Ministry of Economic Development webpages on the “China Task Force”cannot be accessed.

Mark Driscoll reviews Neferti X. M. Tadiar, Remaindered Life (Duke University Press, 2022)

This new work of Marxist-feminism from the Global South is quite simply the most convincing analysis of the current conjuncture I have read. Delivering on the promises of predecessors like Chandra Mohanty and Gayatri Spivak to provide an analytic of the gendered subaltern in global capitalism, Neferti X. Tadiar does much more than that. She clears the cluttered field of critical theory by proffering what she calls “remaindered life”—at once a heuristic, a sociological blind spot and a prophecy of victory (or temporary ceasefire) in battle. Victory in battle because Tadiar pulls no punches in depicting our present as “an era of relentless war waged by the assumed and would-be inheritors of colonialism’s bequest—valued life—to retain, regain, or arrogate the rights to its enjoyment” (ix). Valued life “worth living” is constantly attacking or, to use a term from stock trading consistent with this book’s rhetoric, “shorting” lives it considers expendable. Always already short-sold, expendable life exists in a constant state of shredding value and declining to junk, what Tadiar calls “waste”. More value accrues to what my working-class Mom called the “filthy rich” to the extent that they can forcefully short-sell and turn into wasted life. As Marx adduced in Capital Vol. 1, “Accumulation of wealth at one pole is at the same time accumulation of misery, agony of toil, slavery, ignorance, brutality, mental degradation, at the opposite pole.”

For me, the most important aspect of this book is its righteous ferocity—no injustice can hide from Tadiar’s circumspection. Therefore, we get a breathtaking assemblage of issues and concerns: Israeli settler colonialism in Palestine; US military atrocities in Iraq; neoliberal infrastructural collapse in Flint, Michigan; Duterte’s necropolitical drug wars in the Philippines; femicide in Ciudad Juarez; and pipeline poisoning in the Dakotas. Rarely, if ever, do readers witness a truly global thinker. But her global vision doesn’t suffer from abstraction and distancing as she dedicates herself to a granular hermeneutic of many of the atrocities listed above. For example, in her cri de cœur against the remaindering of Black life in Flint she complicates the standard leftist denunciation of environmental racism to great effect. While acknowledging Ruth Wilson Gilmore’s pioneering work in Golden Gulag, Tadiar’s multilayered critique goes beyond it to include Michigan governor Rick Snyder’s background as a banker; municipal bondholder demands, and the history of white flight and disinvestment. Simplistic analytics are banned from Remaindered Life; only terse concision is allowed. Check out this brilliant paragraph about the Flint crisis:

From 2011 to 2015, under the Obama administration, the venture-capitalist governor of Michigan appointed municipal emergency fiscal managers to address the fiscal crisis produced by capital abandonment and tax cuts in the wake of deindustrialization and by the 2008 recession (in turn resulting from the subprime mortgage housing crisis). The financialization of urban policy meant that the decision to poison Flint’s water was the result of a calculation of the human life costs of using Flint River water in terms of (and in exchange for) the fiscal savings this urban policy would produce. In the terms of understanding I present in this book, the future life-times of Flint’s Black residents were liquified (“sold” or “cashed in”) to cut the costs of investment capital (creating “savings”) and to realize the growth rates promised by emergency fiscal managers to the bondholders from whom loans for urban renewal were secured. In other words, the “waste” (disposable people, contaminated water) that was created in a previous moment of accumulation re-enters another cycle of value extraction as a repurposed resource for finance capital—as a monetizable asset that can figure (as derivative exchange value) in the calculus of the investments of finance capital. (29)

Providing a Marxist rigor to Naomi Klein’s disaster capitalism conceit, Tadiar here deploys all the tools in the cache of critical finance studies while adding her own: “life-times”. At a moment when most left analysis focuses on Tesla, Google and China’s Belt and Road Initiative, she uncovers a vulture capitalism that feasts on the most improbable of profit environments: the lifespans of people trying to survive in slums, ghettos and open-air prisons. Making a compelling case that capitalism carries out special operations and small wars in these places, she concludes her reading of Flint with the insistence that, “What distinguishes this moment is the multiplying, fractal scales in which the intensive capitalization of the waste and wasting of things, people, space and time – and their derivatives –is carried out” (32).

Tadiar’s leitmotif of life-times is joined by another that should be become de riguer in our age of exponential growth in climate refugees: “fate playing”. She depicts this as the bet the remainder make in order to survive, and, if they are lucky, thrive. While fate playing can result in temporary safety and provisional fugitivity, Tadiar doesn’t flinch in delineating the oppressive structures within which these wagers are carried out. To wit, fate players are always using house money and global capitalism’s invisible hand deals them cards from the bottom of the deck—rigging the fate playing game from the outset. Tadiar explains that this is because if they are lucky enough to find a place to live and work, fate players enter the labor market having to pay backward (bribes; coyote fees; predatory security costs) with work for life-times already drawn down. Tadiar elaborates on this through the central dramatis personae of global capitalism and one she has done superb work on her whole career: the subaltern domestic worker.

Like most migrant domestics who have gone into debt as a precondition of obtaining overseas work (or whose families have gone into debt with their own lives as collateral), their time has been mortgaged, so they must first work to pay off that mortgaged time, which “buys” them more time to work so they can live the next day, a portion of which will already have been mortgaged. Put differently, they pay with work for life advanced to them (life they owe rather than own)—a form of rent on the delimited parcel of existence they can afford to inhabit within the deterritorialized networked  city-state of global humanity, the globopolis.(99)  

Tadiar is at her best when she underlines that the ethico-political solution to remaindered life is not available in current human rights and leftist discourse. While she by no means wants to discredit activists and dedicated NGO workers, she warns against liberal tendencies to bring remaindered life into the status of full “humanity”—the category of the “human” is precisely the problem for her.  In a militant posthumanism she explains that the binary oppositions that characterize liberal discourse today—between bondage and emancipation, exclusion and inclusion, citizenship vs. migrant statelessness, and, most importantly, human and inhuman—work to depoliticize other practices of “life-making”. But what exactly are these? And what effectivity gathers within the remainder? In other words, for a Marxist-feminist we would expect to find some form of political potential in the remainder. Is the remainder revolutionary? Or is the notion of revolution itself irrevocably corrupted by humanist discourses of freedom and emancipation?

Evidently, any fugitive space-time free from capture by global capital can only be contingent and temporary. Tadiar explains why this is so:

[Remaindered life-time] is the left-over and excess of social reproductive work of living not only on the part of disposable peoples but also in the forms of social life-making that persist beyond and despite capitalist subsumption—not directly absorbable by capitalist industries, not completely assimilable within forms of productive life, or, and this is increasingly (though not yet) the same thing, failing to fulfill the protocols of subjectivity and sociality under the political order of democratic life. These forms and moments of life-making (and sense-making) are remaindered life-times also in the sense that they exceed the theoretical accounts of labor and of politics, which see disposable life only as the symptomatic consequence of the logic of capitalist accumulation or of sovereignty, and in this way make the remaindered life-times of social survival among the dispossessed ever more liminal. (103)  

Clearly vigilant about not capturing and containing remaindered life-times in her own theoretical discourse, Tadiar still provides some clues as to how we can witness it and, maybe, join in political alliance with it. The most important of these clues is the presence of poetry (and sections of the writing in this book approach poetry in their lyricism). Both testimonio and community builder, poetry fulfills the requirement of politicized remaindered life in that it is singularly specific in terms of its matrix (language, community) and is contingent in terms of its temporality. The site-specific art that Tadiar invokes to wonderful effect in this book could be said to do the same. As I see it, this is in the same spirit as Harney and Moten who insist in their Undercommons that revolution will come in a form we cannot yet imagine. They advise that the best preparation for it is to study, live and make art collectively.

Maybe this emphasis on study (at least in an academic mode) is too bourgeois for remaindered life. Nevertheless, Tadiar offers the denizens of the undercommons an insuperable syllabus for reading.  From what might be called “remaindered theory” (the overlooked late Lindon Barret; the underappreciated J. K. Gibson-Graham), to more celebrated socialist-feminist work by Angela Davis and Silvia Federici, Tadiar deploys an admirable generosity in her citational practices. She is even gracious when she punches up in her knockout of Antonio Negri and her lead leg kick to Foucault’s theory of biopolitics. Maybe here then, at the level of thought and citational practice— like Louis Althusser’s class struggle at the level of theory—do we get a glimpse of what a remaindered life praxis might be for left-academics and activists in the Global North. It would be exuberantly gracious towards predecessors and ancestors; it would provide a critical platform for radicals in the Global South; it would be incessantly intersectional; it would feature indigenous voices; and, most important, it would humbly excuse itself from trafficking in universals like “the multitude” and “state of exception,” and fetishizing tendencies like “real subsumption”.  

Finally, I feel compelled to critique this work for its absence of other-than-human life. I don’t do this out of a gotcha sense of snarky superiority, but only as a comradely provocation for future thinking. It is surprising that in a work like this situated in part in a place like the Philippines that is so susceptible to capitalogenic climate change in the form of superstorms and flooding, discussions of ecology are almost entirely absent. Granted no book can say everything. But I am excited about the potential for what Tadiar and her mushrooming collective of sister travelers might do with the wonderful theoretico-political architecture deployed in Remaindered Life in alloying it with what Jason Moore calls the “web of life” or what Donna Haraway indexes as “multi-species being”.  Beyond the horizon and between the cracks of the global, the wretched remainder of the earth beckons.

 

Mark Driscoll teaches East Asian and Global Studies at the University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill. He is the author of three books from Duke Press, the most recent of which is The Whites are Enemies of Heaven: Climate Caucasianism and Asian Ecological Protection.

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Hedgehog: poems on the Chinese protests

In Fall 2022, I offered a class entitled “Students and Protest in Modern China” at NYU in New York. Most of the students in the class are PRC citizens and all but one are of Chinese ethnic descent. Despite institutional difficulties and obstacles, we were able to foster a politically safe environment for students to speak, to discuss, to agree, and to disagree about historical and contemporary matters.The class became suddenly immensely relevant in the aftermath of the Sitong Bridge Incident/Twentieth Party Congress, when a lone protester hung a banner on Sitong Bridge in Beijing opposing the re-appointment of Xi Jinping to a third term and the immense concentration of political power in his hands. Diaspora Chinese students were thrust into a large-scale poster war conducted on campuses around the United States and the world, during which the Sitong Bridge message was emulated by some and vigorously opposed by others. Some of those poster wars became very heated. Soon thereafter, local protests over the apartment fire fatalities in Urumqi and the lockdowns by Foxconn in their Zhengzhou factory swept in national consciousness with the brief but intense “white paper” urban citizen and university student protests against the “dynamic zero-covid” regimes of intrusive testing, rolling lockdowns, unpredictable quarantines, and disruptions of life in general. My students became concerned and now quite knowledgeable interpreters of the events. 

  As a final project, I invited students to write creative works that addressed May Fourth (1919) students from the vantage of 2022. Some made inventive big-character posters; one made a video; another wrote a playscript; many wrote letters to their past counterparts. This set of poems was submitted by one student, who wishes to remain anonymous. They speak to their generation’s clear-eyed sense of the world in crisis. With the student’s permission, we have decided to publish on positionspolitics.org/praxis.

  Rebecca E. Karl

(A Spanish translation of the poems is available here, thanks to Javier Román)

 

“If You’re not willing to walk at the front,” a poem from the White Paper protests in China

This anonymous poem, whose provenance is listed only as Communications University of China, Nanjing (南京传媒学院) has circulated widely on social media through the protests and has also been set to music (https://chinadigitaltimes.net/chinese/690479.html) . Its title is “If You’re not willing to walk at the front”. The sung version also has circulated under the title “Every Sheet of White Paper.”

If you’re not willing to walk at the front, please follow our march from behind.
If you’re not willing to follow, please watch from the side of the road.
If you’re not willing to watch, please shout out online.
If you’re not willing to shout out online, please close your eyes in silence,
Sit back, and enjoy the rights we have fought for you;
But don’t turn a blind eye, and don’t sneer
Because the sunlight we have struggled for belongs both to me and to you.

如果你不愿走在前面,请你跟着队伍

如果不愿跟着队伍,请你在路边国观

如果不愿在路边围观,请你在网上呐喊

如果不愿在网上呐喊,请默默闭上你的眼

坐下来,享受我们为你争取来的权利

但不要视而不见,更不要冷嘲热讽

因为争取来的阳光,既属于我也属于你

Translated by Christopher Connery

Rebecca Karl, China in protest

This piece was originally posted as part of a  ChinaFile conversation.

It is quite impossible to say anything definite about what is happening in China now. Information is at the mercy of one’s circles and social media feeds. It appears that there are a number of simultaneous but uncoordinated social explosions of frustration, anger, anguish, and pent up pain. Some of it appears very political—“Xi Jinping, step down” in downtown Shanghai; “freedom of speech” at universities—and some of it seems to articulate a total emotional exhaustion with the “dynamic zero-COVID” regime rolling through people’s lives in increasingly arbitrary and willful fashion. The current round of explosive collective anger, we must recall, began with the large-scale Foxconn worker unrest, where conditions of labor are normally abysmal and, in the recently-implemented “closed loop” system, are now intolerable. (“Closed loop” refers to factory-dormitory trajectories that reduce to an absolute minimum extraneous activity that might introduce infection.) As Eli Friedman points out in an interview with Jacobin about the recent labor actions in Zhengzhou, the fact that workers now are escaping the factory grounds by surreptitiously scaling fences and perimeter walls indicates that there is a prison-like situation at the giant facility where iPhones are produced.

I leave it to others to trace a clearer timeline of events. The point I want to make is that, as with all such efforts at chronology, where one begins matters. I choose to begin with workers, to emphasize what our commentariat now will most likely ignore: that the current explosion cannot be seen as a purely urban or educated class phenomenon, but rather is rooted in the brutal regimes of wealth accumulation, labor extraction, and global-domestic political power that have grown and metastasized in the past several decades. As Bill Hurst has roughly analyzed in his Twitter feed, the layering of unrests since 1989—in villages where rapacious land grabs dispossess peasants; in factories, in mines, and on digital platforms where labor regimes are cruelly extractive; among poorer urban denizens and migrants defrauded by real estate and banking concerns backed by municipal governments; among feminists and those refusing to conform to patriarchal modes of social organization—has mostly bypassed urban petty bourgeois and capitalist classes who have benefited hugely from the systems of oppression upon which their comfortable lives have been fashioned. The pandemic and increasing disruption of those lives have now registered as intolerable.

What we are seeing now is a number of brave urban folks coming out of their homes to contest the conditions of their partially locked-down lives. They perhaps have not linked their difficulties to the lives of their poorer, more exploited compatriots; in fact, it is a fair bet that most have not. Yet, the spectacle of 10 Uyghur deaths in an inferno in Urumchi, an earlier bus crash near Guiyang that killed 27 COVID evacuees, the Lanzhou toddler who perished from gas inhalation in his sealed-off home . . . the toll is taking its toll. Urban denizens are legible to themselves and to the international media. They are capable of scaling the great firewall and posting on global social media sites, thus becoming fully visible as a collective to a diasporic populace of angry young folks abroad who can amplify and articulate their own political despair in resonant dialogue with their friends and families at home. They speak the language of Euro-American “democracy” fluently, and can make themselves heard as well as seen.

Will the state find a way to repress and then buy these urban denizens off, to bribe them back into their lives so as to calm the unrest while proceeding with the concentrations of power, wealth, and surveillance capacity apace? Or, will these actions snowball into something for which we still have no name? We will see.

Rebecca E. Karl teaches History at New York University.