About China blogosphere, travel, and entrepreneurship

The Chinese Internet is abuzz with “Runner Fan”(Fan Paopao, 范跑跑), aka Fan Meizhong (范美忠). This guy, in short, was a teacher and was supposed to save kids when the Sichuan earthquake struck — but chose to run outside and even had the nerve to blog about the event. In the blog entry, he went to great lengths to — well, dig himself into a deeper hole rhetoric-wise, by means of resorting to language such as “I’d rather save my daughter than my mother” (which does you no favors in China, where filial piety is high on the agenda — in fact, it makes you look really, really bad).

“Runner Fan”, in fact, has won himself very few friends and a whole host of — well, maybe not enemies, but in Chinese thinking, “people who have a lot to say about ‘Runner Fan’” (对“范跑跑”很有意见的人 in Chinese). China isn’t exactly a place to throw off heavy, fight-inciting language (especially if at 7 PM every day we are told that we live in a “harmonious society”), despite it coming out with Sun Zi’s The Art of War, but then again — how can you song the praises of someone who dumped their students just for self-preservation?

The 7 o’clock news and public newspapers of record are now talking about those brave men and women who have given in to save people from the quake area. This is quite the opposite of “Runner Fan”, who is now spared no bit of Web rhetoric.

Today is not the time to bridge the gap. Rather, it’s time to take a look at the gap from different angles — and see if you can agree on what angle you take. In no particular order, here are a myriad of different angles on the issue…

• “Runner Fan” did something illegal: Chinese law requires teachers to save kids first, and he didn’t.
• “Runner Fan” didn’t exactly sin on running out of the classroom, but to blog about this tripped “Runner Fan” over the line.
• “Runner Fan” apologized, but the damage has been done.
• It’s all about instincts. “Runner Fan” did no wrong. This is an earthquake. Lives are precious. (You only get one go in life…)
• Criticizing or even talking about “Runner Fan” actually advances the Chinese — this is a first for China, and China has to experience a lot of things in due time.
• This is about extremes — and “Runner Fan” took to this extreme that put the individual above all else.
• Remember, China is a 5,000+ civilization deeply rooted in what’s called “collectivism”. This is nothing new (a la since 1949). The group has always overshadowed the individual in importance long before Mao’s People’s Republic.
• “Runner Fan” did wrong? Well, only the individual can come to conclusions…
• Fan Meizhong — a Chinese failure, a person truly missing a brain. China has spent so much on him — only to raise a mere animal!
• Out of all those shameless people, I’ve yet to see one as shameless as “Runner Fan”.

What do you think of Fan Paopao?

Special times prompt special — well, special specials, pardon the pun. This week has been an extraordinary one, with the earthquake halfway through Monday shakings up.

First of all, a first-hand account about how things turned out in Beijing, at ground level. (The posts I quote were all written on Tuesday, a day after the quake.) As Kaiser Kuo recalls:

At 2:28 yesterday afternoon, I had stopped off at home in Beijing’s Central Business District after lunch and was writing an email to a VC friend of mine when I suddenly felt dizzy. For the first few seconds, I thought it was all in my head, but then there was the distinct sensation of physical movement. I asked my wife, “Is this an earthquake?” She was incredulous at first, but then found she almost lost her footing and held a wall for support. “It is an earthquake,” she said. I looked out the window toward the new office towers going up south of my building, and could have sworn I saw them swaying. We talked for a couple of seconds about what we should do–whether we should get under a doorway, or get downstairs. Then it all stopped, about 35 seconds afterward.

Nearly immediately after the quake, I myself got a flood of messages, all from people I knew, who were concerned with how things were in Beijing. As I wrote on my blog in the form of a letter to all my friends: (more…)

I tend to give special days special names, like David Day for a certain day in January (when yours truly was “created” aka born), Honey Day (for St Valentine’s Day), and now, Mom Day and Dad Day. It’s a David Feng tradition — what more can I say? David Feng naming innovation… or something like that.

Onwards. This Mom Day special of our famous Mind the Gap series is here because — well, today’s Mom Day! Happy Mom Day first of all to my mom — a one and only mom who made my 26 years all that bit more special. In this special, I’d like to point out to some special characteristics about moms and Chinese culture. (more…)

Nag Nag Nag, Yak Yak Yak, teachers getting on your back…

To the Swiss-educated David Feng, this is probably too old school. After all, he was being yelled at, shouted at, and yak yak yakketed at back already in school. The nagging continues, with mom yelling at David to get off the Net at around 11 PM ever day. (Traditional family practises, apparently, don’t mix very well with the virtual world online.)

Yet the yak yak yakketing continues online in the private (ahem; we mean the “mentionable” bit, lest you think otherwise) realm of David Feng — to be precise, in his Twitter World. Having passed his 5,000th tweet just today, it’s no wonder that bits and bobs of paint on his MacBook is coming off. (The thing’s been put to excess use; read: tweeting.) (more…)

First of all, excuse the gap — as in the gap, day-wise. Thursday evening looked like terminal illness for yours truly after a massive day’s all-in-ones: guiding people around the Planning Exhibition Hall, rectifying the Chinglish, hosting radio shows and translating files.

Onwards. Beijing is redoing quite a bit of those traffic signs. Yet in all of this sign mania, there’s a gap — between well-done signs and signs that looked like people were rushing through them. These signs are either hunong (糊弄) — as in badly done — or zixi (仔细) — as in Swiss-ish precisionism.

Why am I going into Chinese road signs for a start? Well, for a start (hate to use the same words time and again, but oh well), I’ve bumped into enough “things” (so to speak) in and around China (and in the wider world outside the PRC, too) that looked like they were — well, done with nary a second thought. At the other end of the spectrum, I’ve spotted true masterpieces that are more than deserving of coverage on the cover page (pardon the pun) of your newsmagazine — they’re that good.

Take a look, for example, at your average science book. Mom and dad left quite a bit of their science books with me at my big house in the eastern suburbs, and as a result, I’ve gotten around to browsing through them. The bit I love is how they describe things — as in things as “nice” “harmonious” as the different between cirrus and nimbus clouds — as well as less “harmonious” topics such as how nuclear bombs are being made. They describe it all in “people language” — the average guy in the street is able to pick the book up, read through it, and make sense of the whole thing. Books written in the Mao era are very much zixi things — they’re a pleasure to read because the lady or gent who wrote the book gave a something about the quality of the book. Nice pics make it like that icing on the cake.

Contrast that with hunong, which is — of course — something that looks like someone made in a hurry. Time is money, by the way (I think Marx said that first? Don’t quote me on that…), so some of us folks in China finish something that obviously looks that bit more “half-baked”. Whether that be traffic signs or Chinglish-laden announcement signs, it’s more than obvious: somebody wanted to do this quick. Maybe to get paid — quick.

My trips today through Beijing’s Subway system (sorry, I don’t have a second hobby for the moment) saw me take two snaps of the subway system. One hunong as heck and one zixi — oh heavens, platform art. I love that.

Let’s do the hunong bit. Somebody wanted to remove those signs up above the platforms. Unfortunately, the third rail’s only out of action from midnight till about 5 AM at the “latest” (”earliest” for the rest of us), so the only time some could afford to pull this stunt off (the stunt of removing signage located in the track area without risking electrocution) would be during these five hours. Sadder still, someone decided to take only bits and pieces of the signage off. Did the guy do this between his late night breaks with — we’re guessing here — Chinese chess and mantou (bread)? The result –

– kinda showed him pulling off a multitasking stunt poorly: only half the signage got removed, and that — in a very “half and half” manner. Not good.

One station up on Line 2, though, and we see those fantastic murals or wall art / platform art. Someone obviously took his or her time, did the artwork really well, and took pride in his or her work when the whole thing was assembled and complete.

In particular to Swiss people, I’d say, we are big fans of zixi people. We have plenty of those people on the ground here in Beijing. Unfortunately, we also seem to have a steady supply of hunongers.

It’s time to dump hunong and embrace zixi. China’s rising, and we want to see perfection rise as well.

To many a Westerner (especially to this Swiss-Chinese), one Chinese characteristic that we may have some trouble getting over is this characteristic known as qianxu (谦虚), or the art of being humble. You can be special, knowing 10 languages, heading up 2 communities, and knowing all Beijing Subway exits off by heart — heck, you might even be the only guy in the loop who knows that the closest thing to Clapham Common station on the Tube is Zhichunli station on the up-and-coming Line 10 — but you’re supposed to keep that all to yourselves!

Or nearly, that is. Being special is OK in China. It’s the way you express it. Let’s say that yours truly started out a conversation by saying: “My name is David Feng, I’m the President of this and that user group, I know all Subway stations off by heart, I know how to say “hi” in Rhaeto-Rumansh, and when my friend from the Netherlands was talking on the phone in Dutch, I knew what she was on about.” And you’ve only begun.

In the West, you’d be considered a living miracle. In China, though, you’d have come close to — or even have already — crossed the fine line that is qianxu.

In China, the moment you’re praised, you’re instead supposed to go, “Oh, my Latin isn’t that good” or “Now you’ve made my face red!”. The following sample conversation shows how someone who knows Qianxu 101 would respond:

Chinese 1: “Let me introduce John to you, who’s from the US. John knows 5 languages, and has been President of Chamber of Commerce…”
Chinese 2: “Oh my God! You are so brilliant…”
John: “Na li na li” (哪里哪里 — litearlly meaning “where, where”)
Chinese 1: “…and is a whiz kid on the piano. He knows Mozart off by heart…”
Chinese 2: “…you are a genius!”
John: Nah, actually I’m not that good on the piano…

Our fictional John would have handled that qianxu bit very well. The “na li na li” bit, by the way, has no real meaning, but is often used to “smooth” or to “dampen” the talk and is absolutely crucial to many a conversation where you’ve got to be qianxu.

Cut to the chase, being qianxu means that you consider yourself “inferior” (although not really) even if you do happen to know, say, 10 languages. This way, you’re seen as not all that “big”, and this, in fact, makes you more approachable.

So is qianxu good or bad? In fact, qianxu is good as it kind of puts you on a “lower” or more “equal” playing field. However, another school of thought is of the opinion that qianxu is not “实事求是” (shi shi qiu shi, which comes close to meaning “realistic”) enough, and says that the western “Thank you” is actually more preferred over “na li na li”.

For yours truly, this very qianxu thing is often a stumbling stone. In 2002, he was taken to task on a Mac forum in China (which shall remain anonymous) after he was too “visible” as the President of the Beijing Macintosh User Group, where he was, in essence, “brainwashed” into being humble. (His Mac group got nowhere, in fact, until he was qianxu-ized.) Encounters in 2007, however, would see David qianxu even in front of expats.

He now manages it both ways — first by being qianxu and then falling back on the refrain “Thank you”, with the added qianxu if needed. He admits it’s still a potential tripping stone, but — he’s getting places…

Talk about Tibet and Taiwan, as well as anything political, is off-limits to your fellow co-blogger — voluntarily, as politics and religion set (or could potentially set) more people off than anything. (It’s more about not making anyone ballistic than “creating a harmonious society”, as is the officialspeak here.) The bits and bobs of news we’ve been hearing lately, however, show that we’re probably a bit more informed about what happens outside our borders than — could it be — fellow folks State-side…?

No joke: the evening Network News Broadcast, available to the masses by both TV and radio every evening at 7 PM, contains 25 minutes of domestic officialspeak. In the last 5 minutes, however, you get the 5 minutes of news that matter. The co-hosts are seen less during the last 5 minutes: instead, seen more often are the likes of Bush, Her Majesty, and even planets outside our own Terra. Indeed, the final 5 minutes of news on China’s Central Television takes a look at the world outside mainland China. And sometimes, we get a quick report or two about new breakthroughs in technology, the discovery of a new planet, or maybe a yell-a-thon from Japan (yes, they do have that).

By contrast, when I was in San Francisco in 2006, I was treated to news on CNN about everything inside the US — a bit of Israel — and then, nothing. We’re not talking about the small bits and bobs like Switzerland Invents New Milka Chocolate Ad Slogan or North Korea Issues New Stamps To Commemorate National Day. Nope, we’re talking about big nations like China, India, or bigger parts of the world like Europe and Australia. I was shocked to see no coverage about China! (No surprise: I switched the TV off and got my updates from the Web instead.)

Come to think of it, this is supposed to be America, where “freedom of the press” and “news freedom” are common currency. We folks in China believe that the Americans should come to understand the World better, as they are more “free”. Instead, I was given the impression that the US is a country that locks itself inside its own frontiers, more than anything else — if that 15-minute report on CNN USA told me anything.

When people start locking themselves in, they start refusing different viewpoints — as in viewpoints of folks from other places or those with different opinions. This is nothing new to China: a self-locked China as late as the 1970s saw the nation way behind the Western World. No Jianwai SOHO then; nope, if you lock yourself in, you can’t move ahead.

This may seem a paradox indeed; folks in the Western world, often given to the fact that the Chinese are a “locked-in nation”, tend to have the misconception that China could care less about the outside World. In fact, international headliners are all the rage on Chinese media. Even the mouthpiece People’s Daily carry news about what’s happening outside national frontiers.

It’s time move beyond national frontiers and out into that great big World out there.

It’s that time of the year again, when most of us head to the graves of our ancestors. I’m not one to comment on the amount of tear-shedding during this period: it is, after all, a time to think of those loved ones that are no longer with us. Heck, I sure miss my granny, but I’m pretty sure she’s happy up above knowing that her grandson’s doing well — now working with the folks at the Beijing Planning Exhibition Hall.

It’s only this year, however, that the mainland authorities made Qingming, or Clear and Bright Festival, an official holiday. You get three days off to head to the tombs of your ancestors, and there are even some flights across the Straits for those who need to head on over to Taiwan.

The Chinese view their ancestors with a great deal of importance. Important to them also is the sense of family. In China — especially in more traditional circles — the notion of an extended family is core. Entire extended families used to live in many a siheyuan compound in Beijing, with the grandparents, parents and kids living all under one roof. To many, the annual family get-together is an event which everyone attends — every single member of the family.

The Chinese head to the tombs of their ancestors this time of the year to remember those who gave themselves not just their lives, but also extended the family tree. They remember those who were there, and pledge not to forget them, and to come back next year. It’s pretty solemn, and many a Chinese take the event seriously. That’s one of the values of the Chinese people — the notion that you never forget your ancestors.

In traditional China, women were locked inside the average compound and were never allowed outside the “2nd gate” (they had many gates inside the compounds at that time). In modern China, though, we see our “female comrades” (to quote a Mao-era “pop phrase”) just about everywhere, some looking outright gorgeous, some looking biz-like.

It’s the biz bit that I’m into today. Carly Fiorina may not exactly be omnipresent in China’s biz world, but what cannot be stopped (fortunately, for an equal society) is the move of women into the workplace. It’s no longer a case of a young lady waiting for her man after graduation or women locked in homes, caring for the baby (although that is still pretty commonplace in China). No, we’re talking about business leaders who are women.

There’s a big reason why they’re in the biz, by the way: yours truly just happened to join tracks, ideologically (so to speak), with another Mac compatriot, Guy Kawasaki. In his The Art of the Start, he realizes the bits and bobs that make women special when it comes to starting up a great new biz — and I quote:

My final tip is that you ask women — and only women. My theory is that deep in the DNA of men is a “killer” gene. This gene expresses itself by making men want to kill people, animals, and plants. To a large degree, society has repressed this gene; however, starting an organization whose purpose is to kill another organization is still socially acceptable.

Hence, asking a man about a business model is useless because every business model looks good to someone with the Y chromosome. For example, Sun Microsystems wants to kill Microsoft. When is the last time you bought a computer based on whom the manufacturer wanted to kill?

Women, by contrast, don’t have this killer gene. Thus, they are much better judges of the viability of a business model than men are. Don’t agree with me? The book The Darwin Awards provides irrefutable proof of women’s greater common sense. These awards commemorate “those individuals who have removed themselves from the gene pool in a sublimely idiotic fashion.”

For example, in 1998 two construction workers fell to their demise after cutting a circular hole in the floor while they were standing in the middle of the circle. The Darwin Awards contains nine chapters about the stupidity of men, and one chapter about the stupidity of women. I rest my case.

The David Feng version is a little unlike the Guy Kawasaki version, which (especially if you read the last bit) implies that all men are stupid and nearly all women are supposed to be super-smart. But to kind of balance the Kawasaki quote, David Feng presents a real-life example: Ketty, the former secretary (and still a powerful Standing Committee member) of the Beijing Macintosh User Group.

When Ketty came in back in September 2005, the entire Membership Congress took the risk — a very smart and sensible one at that — at electing a total dark horse candidate who had just nominated herself at that very meeting. Like someone who knew the horse off by heart, Ketty leapt into the group as the newly-elected secretary. Barely younger than the President (then at around 23 in age), Ketty turned out to be a massive driving force behind the group, which had more than double in membership by the time she left in June 2007.

Ketty immediately found out about the power of the press, summoning even reporters from the mainland mouthpiece People’s Daily to the 4th BeiMac anniversary meetup. The group went on Beijing TV as it celebrated its 4th year in existence. Ketty was an able diplomat, linking up with fellow groups in Beijing, and flew to Hong Kong to meet fellow Mac group leaders down there. She was able to silence just about any controversy, especially in executive meetups. And her English was on par with that of the President.

To David Feng, having such a powerful secretary was a blessing. The icing on the cake: this was a lady. It showed that a great group needs great leaders — men and women.

One of Ketty’s final acts in office was to co-host with David the 5th anniversary meetup of the user group. It turn out to be a resounding success, with about 90 people in attendance. The entire event was lively from the start, and continued to be lively until the meeting ended about three hours later. Not only did the two make great hosts, but they — along with the membership — lead a great team.

If Ketty and Guy’s examples are any indication, it’s that women are just as important as men in the workplace. Maybe this isn’t picking up so quickly in China as is the case in the West. But at least there’s one indicator that it’s big in China — in David Feng’s plans about corporate establishment, one of the fundamental principles is that one of the top execs (or more) — have to be women.

And that’s a good and fair thing.

Please mind the gap between China and the West…

• The West: The mic is more “for everyone”. Everyone has a chance to speak.
• China: The mic is for those “with the credentials”. Expertise and professionalism preferred.

We’re not talking about the egalitarian mics you get at KTV parties, where just about everyone has the right to pollute the ears of just about everyone else in the booth. No, we’re talking about something a bit more pro than just mimicking Stefanie Sun or Jay Chow; we’re talking about things such as public speaking or hosting big events.

Beyond than just grabbing the “voice roll” (which is what the Chinese word for the mic, 话筒 (huatong) breaks down into), we’re also talking about participation when it comes to anything speech-related.

The West: Everyone Can Speak

In the Western World, just about everyone can speak. There’s less on the “exclusivity” of the speaker and more on interaction.

When I went to Macworld in 2006, I was “immediately” a speaker at both a Mac user group event and at the conference itself (in the form of the user group lounge). This kind of told me: “credentials” or “experience” is not necessarily as “big” as it is on this side of the planet (as in China). As long as you’ve quality content, it’ll be fine.

In the West, you’re more likely to be discovered as a previously undiscovered talent. If you can pull it off with good Keynote slides (yours truly has a natural allergy to Microsoft PowerPoint — for revolutionary, ahem, Macintosh reasons), and if you’re engaging to your audience, you’ll be called time and time again. The mic’s yours if you can perform in the West. Additionally, when you perform in the West, you allow the audience in — there’s quite a bit of interaction.

As is the case anywhere else, though, experience in speaking in front of the masses will help you out in the West. But even if you’re missing that, there’s sure to be a mic there for you. I mean, I got started at age 10 when I was visiting London and when I started brainwashing people at the Speakers Corner at Hyde Park about my “astronomy discoveries”. I had amassed quite an audience in about 5 minutes — a dozen or so people.

Mom says I was born to perform.

China: Credentials or Experience Preferred

In the Sinosphere, not just “anyone” can grab the mic and yak on for hours on end. You must be a “noted personality” or have the experience to make it.

Probably because China is less individual-based and more a collective community (this was the case as early as back when Confucius was around, so it’s not really a case of pre-1949 or post-1949), people have got to be known in circles. The way I see it, you are discovered first within your own circle, then you spread to other circles, and you work yourself around in ripples.

Regarding the interaction: to describe the audience as “deaf-mute” would blow the whole thing out of proportions. I’m not saying that there aren’t the odd speech sleeper (sans the snoring!), but the Chinese are much more used to the guy (or gal; let’s not forget the ladies holding up half the sky!) hogging up the mic for your average 90-minute lesson in university. I once — in essence — suffered through a whole semester of zero-interaction lessons when the teacher was fixed in one position and one position only for the whole 90 minutes: it looked something like this:

• Eyes: fixed on the monitor
• Hands: fixed on the mouse (with scroll wheel no less)
• Lips: fixed on the microphone

She’d maintain this posture even when I was sneaking a secret peek into my Lonely Planet guidebook to Hong Kong. Just about zero questions were asked throughout the whole lesson. I kid you not…

If the speaker in China has experience or has like a wardrobe of titles, accomplishments and “stuff like that”, all of that is likely to end up on the promo flyers given to the masses en masse before the speech. Wearing many hats certainly helps in this part of the World.

Speaking in China is probably not all that much about being entertaining or jazzy. It’s more the case of an info session (or if done badly, an info deluge or info dump). Of course, if you’re entertaining, you’ll stand out probably even more than in the West.

People will come to like you when you do that.