March 21, 2008

Dear Colleague:  

    I walked by Memorial Library and saw a small group of Tibetans writing placards that read, "Stop Cultural Genocide Against Tibet!" I hurried past them for fear of being accosted, for if I were accosted I would be forced to confess that I am one of the bad guys. "Cultural genocide" is, of course, a ridiculous—though catchy—slogan. It is, for one thing, a complete misuse of words. I think it grotesque to suggest that there is anything in common between the loss of certain cultural devices and practices, such as wind-driven prayer wheels and seducing young males into the celibate life, and the slaughter of men, women, and children by the hundreds of thousands and, in the case of Nazi Germany, by the millions. In my heated imagination, I see endless lines of ghosts—victims of genocide in the true meaning of the word—marching and shouting in protest against Tibetan insensitivity.

    The Tibetans accuse the Chinese of wanting to destroy their culture. To the accusation I have two comments. First, it can't be quite true: the Chinese want the Tibetans to retain much of their religious culture if only because it attracts tourists and is a source of income to the State. Second, the Chinese are far more ruthless destroying their own culture! Lhasa is still recognizably Tibetan. But Chinese cities? Shanghai is a fantasy-land of ultramodern skyscrapers. As for Beijing, the capital, a building fever "laid waste the old walled hutungs" that were its distinctive feature. Acres of "streets and shop-houses have been obliterated, their occupants unceremoniously dumped in distant suburbs" (TLS, 1 February, 2008). Why are the Chinese doing this to themselves? Answer: they have never been ethnics—that is, a people living in the shadow of a more sophisticated people and civilization. They intuitively believe that anything powerful and advanced must be, in some fundamental sense, their heritage. They are used to spearheading, of being ahead of other people, and they don't see anything wrong doing a bit more spearheading—however destructive of their own old culture—in the 21st century.

    Now, that's one political comment from me. I have another, which is addressed to presidential candidate Hillary Clinton. She would not like what Jean-Paul Sartre has to say about "experience." To Sartre, the idea that "events and experiences gradually mold a character is one of the myths of the late 19th century and of empiricism" (Simone de Beauvoir, Adieux). Character, being largely innate, is not much affected by life's events and experiences. That's why a person at age seventy-seven is recognizably the person he was fifty years ago. A young man, I doubt I would have come to the rescue of an old lady attacked by a mugger on Oxford Street. (I would be clever enough to find all sort of excuses). Today, encountering the same situation on State Street, I would act the coward that I was and still am. Experience does teach. It teaches new skills, such as riding a bicycle or organizing a political lobby for endangered whales. But it doesn't give a human being a new character—a whole new personality—that enables him or her to respond to monumentally threatening situations in a wise way. Lincoln's response to the Civil War rested on his character, not on his experiences as a lawyer or legislator. Your character, dear Hillary, is your fate. Eight years as First Lady have made you a smarter and more knowledgeable politician, but they are no help when the red phone rings.

Best wishes,

Yi-Fu