The Burning of Bridges

October 27, 2024 06:00

My good friend, colleague, and collaborator Prof. Li Cheng recently took an interview with the Financial Times. In one of its hallmark “Lunch with the FT” series, journalist Edward White engaged in an invigorating and robust conversation with Cheng, covering topics ranging from the defects in how Sino-Ameican relations are studied (if at all) in America these days, to why Cheng decided to come to Hong Kong – a city that many amongst the overseas commentariat would write off as “dead”, “illiberal”, and “repressed”.

What struck me the most wasn’t so much Cheng’s eloquent and emphatic statement of the reasons for which social sciences, as a discipline, are dying – “Economics has become mathematics. Political science has become statistics. There’s no appreciation for history, or culture.” As a political theorist and philosopher myself, I lament the turn away from big, exciting ideas and contests, towards a narrowly defined, myopically constrained, and increasingly zealous pursuit campaign for statistical verifiability. What would Theda Skocpol make of these changes – having written one of the greatest social science works of the 20th century, through the case study-driven “State and Social Revolutions”?

Nor was I most affected by Cheng’s poignant reflections upon the Cultural Revolution – the tumultuous era in which intellectuals, liberals, and critics were purged and coerced into perilous confessions, all in name of political fealty. Those dark days are well recounted by the works of many a contemporary author and historian in China – many of whom have worked closely with and continually advance historical education and understanding in China today.

What I was most profoundly moved by – and have come to savour repeatedly – is the blunt yet emphatic remark, “America is not in the mood to study China”. He feels “less pressure to self-censor [in Hong Kong] than in DC.” That, he found, was most ironic.

Whilst jingoists and chauvinists would jump at the latter and concoct all sorts of bizarre, berserk extrapolations of what he has to say, Cheng’s words indeed contain much truth to them. Hong Kong remains considerably freer than the mainland in terms of the parameters, domains, and forms of permitted speech. At the same time, it is – perhaps thankfully, perhaps inevitably – increasingly impervious to Western pressures concerning what is and is not appropriate, what is or is not palatable for a public audience, eager to consume narratives that reify their long-entrenched worldviews.

In my conversations with colleagues in the US, UK, and Europe, I often find myself having to ask the question, raise the point, or offer an addendum of nuance, that few are interested in considering. The predictable and most ubiquitous response would be, “Yes, but this is not the point that we’re making”, as if there is only one point to be made and known about China.

Then there are times, on the other hand, when I’d find myself debating and challenging some of the most ardent advocates of China. I cannot resist the temptation to call out their spurious assertions over China’s immense strength, nor can I bring myself to concur with their atavistic and unscientific, unctuous praise for all of the country’s economic policies. I would remind them that the country yet has a long, long way to go – whether it be in unleashing the potential of the markets, bolstering its soft power and image internationally, or streamlining its governance to ensure that meritocracy and accountability can go hand-in-hand.

Yet the pluralism, the complexity, the caveats and conditionals that ground such discourse – which are necessary in order to focus the discussion on what is and isn’t true, and by no means merely defensive ploy or empty gestures – are sadly missing in vast swathes of Western discussions on China today. You’re either “Team China” or “Team America”, as if those millions who had benefited from Sino-American rapprochement – perhaps the accidental side benefit of a most Machiavellian move by a most Machiavellian statesman and his advisor – do not in fact exist.

As I asked in a TIME Magazine piece a few years back, what about the hundreds of thousands of Chinese students who opted to stay in America and contribute towards its knowledge economy? Or the thousands of artists, athletes, and cultural figures who travel to and fro China and the US each year, with the strict and undying ambition of bolstering mutual understanding and acceptance through cultural exchange? Or the businessmen and leaders who have long sought to leverage commercial interactions between China and the US to build up supply chain ecosystems that can work to the interests of American consumers and Chinese producers?

This is the era of burning bridges. Bridge-building is no longer in vogue. Those who build bridges must face increasingly vicious, uncalled-for, and unpleasant insinuations and speculation over their loyalties. “Dispense with bridges and construct more echo chambers!” – That’s the zeitgeist. After all, German Chancellor Olaf Scholz grandiosely dubbed our present times “zeitenwende” – a change in the winds. From sincere bridge-building, we must reorient ourselves towards sycophantic polarisation!

I jest. But then again, I recall watching an episode of Succession, which sent chills down my spine. At the end of episode six of season one, “Which Side Are You On?”, Logan survives the no confidence vote against him by Kendall – and proceeds to fire half of the board, “without exit package”. Must we choose sides? Or, can we not choose sides?

Assistant Professor, HKU

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