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Back in March I rather jumped the gun by declaring, joyously, that Zimbabwe’s rogue leader was political toast, and that these two authoritarian amigos (see picture) had signed their last arms deal.

Since then the already beleaguered people of Zimbabwe have suffered unimaginably as Mugabe and his thugs have sunk to new lows of atrocity. The appalling violence has drawn universal condemnation from the nations of the world. Well, almost.

China, no stranger to voicing its disapproval, has condemned such international outrages as the refueling of Chen Shui-bian’s plane on American soil in January (a crash landing would have been OK, I guess), foreign leaders’ meetings with the Dalai Lama, western media ‘bias’, the rights of non-Chinese peoples to protest in their own countries (torch relay fiasco), and the cultural price of a Starbucks in the Forbidden City. Weighty matters indeed.

Try googling ‘China condemns’, ’Chinese condemn’, ‘China blasts’, or, for those so inclined, ‘China defecates on’ and you’ll be left in no doubt that China is the world’s greatest producer of condemnations and surly rants. With so many issues to condemn it’s little wonder that one slips through the net from time to time. This particular escapee from China’s overseas axe grinding watchdog is a big fish: there is no condemnation of Zimbabwe’s brutal regime or the intimidation and bloodshed that has brought a nation to its knees. Let me know if you see this missing fish in a pond near you – answers to the name of ‘turn a blind eye’.

The Chinese government’s weak-assed, not to mention spurious, claim of non-interference in the internal affairs of other countries isn’t good enough; China is a global player now and needs to stand up and start acting like it. If China can condemn a peaceful and respectful dialogue between a monk and, well, just about anyone, it should have the balls to denounce a humanitarian catastrophe of the first order. 

Sadly, China appears to lack the necessary testicular fortitude, its state media content to run a smiling picture of Mugabe at the polling station in another benign refusal to acknowledge what’s really happening in Zimbabwe. If you want a snapshot of the ignorance forged by China’s sugar coated Sino-African coverage, read the first comment posted on that article. And why is this? Because African dictators are China’s best buddies and democratic elections threaten to undermine the lucrative deals behind all those totalitarian handshakes.

One particular deal, attention to which was conveniently (for China) buried by the earthquake in Sichuan, was the so called ‘ship of shame‘, a boat load of arms dispatched to Zhongnanhai’s despotic pal on the good ship An Yue Jiang in the midst of political turmoil in Zimbabwe. Interference? The pollution in Beijing clearly works wonders for those having problems with cognitive dissonance. Following widespread, and justifiable, condemnation the boat was apparently recalled, but with no intention of doing any such thing. From the article (24 April):

The Chinese ship carrying a controversial consignment of weapons for Zimbabwe is being recalled and the arms will no longer be delivered. News agencies reported today that this was confirmed at a news conference in Beijing by the Chinese foreign ministry spokesperson, Jiang Yu.

The consignment was “part of the normal arms trade between China and Zimbabwe,” she said. “The relevant contract was signed last year and has nothing to do with the latest developments inside Zimbabwe.”

She added: “I’d like to stress that the Chinese Government always adopts a prudent and responsible attitude towards arms export and one of the important principles it adheres to is non-interference in the internal affairs of recipient countries.”

She lied. The vessel wandered around the waters of Africa until China could strong arm a government into allowing the boat to dock and unload its cargo. Read more here. The article (17 May) asserts that the shipment of weapons arrived in Harare about three weeks after Beijing’s economy with the truth. In the six weeks that have passed since more Chinese arms found there way into the hands of Mugabe’s supporters, not a day has gone by without stories like this one. How many more reasons does China need before it exercises its well-practised voice of condemnation?     

African problems require African solutions is a great sound bite; but it can only happen if outside forces are responsible, honest, and unanimous in their condemnation of, and their intention to end, Zimbabwe’s living nightmare. As the non-African nation with the most leverage in Harare, it’s time for China to display a bit of global leadership and effect a foreign policy that will alleviate rather than facilitate human suffering. 

China could begin by committing a few thousand troops (they have many in Africa already) as part of an overwhelming UN peace-keeping force under AU command that will oversee peaceful change in Zimbabwe. Logistically speaking the Chinese military are well ahead of the curve: their arms and munitions arrived some time ago. 

Update  

Another article that chronicles China’s Africa campaign .

Richard at Peking Duck has posted about a couple of New York Times articles that explore what it means to be selected as a potential Olympian by China’s authoritarian regime. It was also on my mind to write about this after reading this morning’s related article from Timesonline. The article begins by focusing on the case of gold-medal hurdler Liu Xiang:

The Shanghai native is portrayed as a self-sacrificing role model. Local sports reporters who have inquired about his private life have been told that he has no time for girlfriends in his rigorous schedule.

“Interviews with Liu Xiang and his parents are tightly controlled,” said one Shanghai reporter. “We have heard that his family are not happy with the financial deal, although they do not want to say anything.”

Lou Chaoyi, an official at the Track and Field Association, said: “The state cultivated Liu Xiang and so Liu Xiang’s property rights belong to the state; therefore we firmly oppose the commercialisation of Liu Xiang.

That last sentence taps perfectly into the mindset of authoritarian rule: you belong to the State, therefore what belongs to you also belongs to the State. It’s this psychology of ownership and obedience that lies at the heart of a leadership too much in love with face saving and superlatives to give a damn about the welfare of the individual:  

All over China, an estimated 200,000 children are enrolled in junior sports academies run by the state and modelled on the Soviet sporting system, which take them at an early age and mould them through six to seven years of strict discipline to the exclusion of all else. Inside their gymnasiums, small boys and girls can be seen exercising from first light to dusk.

This comes as no surprise, and I’ve read many accounts of potential future athletes taken from their parents in the name of national pride. Saying ‘no’ doesn’t really appear to be an option when the glory of the Motherland is at stake. It’s all very communist, in a 1950’s propaganda poster kind of way. So too are the denial of the right to do something else with your life, and the pushing of athletes beyond reasonable limits. Another article, this time from the Telegraph a couple of months ago, pretty much outlined the obsessive and extreme nature of Beijing’s pursuit of gold:

But for all its success, the school, and the system it represents, has been accused of pushing its young charges too hard, and even of abusing them. On a visit to Shichahai in 2005, Britain’s four-time Olympic rowing champion Sir Matthew Pinsent said he saw a seven-year-old girl crying while being made to do handstands, and a boy with marks on his back.

A question: how is this different from forced labour or a sweatshop? I’m struggling to see a distinction.

A further question relates to the fate of those that don’t make the grade. What becomes of the youngsters, pushed to physical breaking point through years of rigorous training without any semblance of a normal childhood, when it transpires that they are not Olympic material? Again, from the Timesonline:

For those who fail to make the grade, the pressures of life in China’s highly competitive society can be unforgiving.

The case of Zou Chunlan, a female weightlifting champion who did not win a place on the Olympic team, caused a national stir when it was highlighted by the People’s Daily.

Zou was left without any skills to make a living after years in the hothouse of the sports academies, and was reduced to scrubbing customers’ backs in a bathhouse in Changchun, a drab northern city.

This is the tip of an iceberg that is going to come, quite rightly, under closer scrutiny in the next few weeks. No doubt the voices of displeasure will come under pressure from the State machine to keep their mouths shut. It’s about time China came to the realisation that there’s more bad press in silencing the dissenting voice than allowing it to speak. If wishing made it so.

Behind all those golden smiles we’ll be seeing from Chinese athletes in Beijing this summer lays the untold suffering and pain of a million broken dreams.  If China is still so keen to embrace elements of communism, I suggest that it makes compulsory the sharing of the spoils of victory among all those that were forced to sacrifice their rights to a normal childhood and an education.

OK, let’s try and move away from the moral bankruptcy of politics and propaganda for a moment. Instead, let me walk you through this teacher’s typical Wednesday on campus at Jimei University. I refer to myself as ‘teacher’ rather than the more grandiose ‘foreign expert’, as I don’t wish to tempt fate with the impending renewal of my credentials and suffer the same fate as other non-Chinese in recent weeks.

You see, despite every justification to remain here as residents during the summer, many have been caught up in China’s pre-Olympic paranoia, which has seen a purge of so-called ‘foreign undesirables’. It seems that anything less than sworn allegiance to the party and willingness to undergo a program of re-education is enough to get you kicked out of the country. So I wait with baited breath for the return of my passport and residency permit next week.

See what happens when I try to be apolitical? The state apparatus interferes and throws me off track, leading me into the labyrinth of Chinese bureaucracy. Back to my day on campus;

The early morning humidity in June often translates to thunderstorms by mid-afternoon. In between the discomfort of the former and the pleasure of the latter (I like thunderstorms) comes the rigours of teaching Business English to juniors majoring in Chinese. This involves a short walk in the oppressive atmosphere that requires alertness if one is to avoid being run down by one of the increasing number of cars on campus, the drivers of which act with supreme indifference towards pedestrians and bikes alike. The acquisition of a car in China may or may not come with a tow package; but it always infects the owner with an emperor syndrome, characterized by delusions of status and the nasty habit of looking down upon those with less than four wheels to get them from A to B.  

Having dodged and snarled at ignorant motorists for ten minutes, I enter the relative safety of the Chinese Language and Literature Building, where my walk concludes with a climb up five flights of stairs. There is a lift (‘elevator’ for the BrE impaired), but I’m not a big fan, especially when 500 students are fighting for a place that will save them the effort of making a manual ascent. The ‘maximum persons’ warning emblazoned on the wall is treated both as an invitation to disprove the laws of physics and an opportunity to break a world record. My position is that it’s more fun to watch than to participate in.

I have a theory that, if proved correct, could halve this collective display of indolence. It’s this: throw a basketball into the crowd of staircase phobics and watch as congestion is instantly reduced by 50%. This theory is based on the male population’s tireless and endearing enthusiasm for a game of basketball at any hour of night or day. Better still, employ a runner to drag a basketball attached to his waist by string up the five flights. Whether or not this tactic would alter the soporific effect of the heat on my students is debatable, and they do not seem to require stifling humidity to sleep through a lesson. In this regard they are wonderfully adaptable.

This morning’s textbook unit was about staff appraisal, a topic that had no noticeable impact on the wakefulness of my students. Their enthusiasm was briefly rekindled by a personal anecdote, and then waned again when I told them to begin the reading exercise. As I wandered around helping the occasional keen learner with vocabulary, I counted the number of sleepers in the room. It was just as I thought - a new personal best! Of 36 students that turned up, 15 were in a state of advanced slumber; of the remaining 21, five were reading literature not connected with the course, three were text messaging, two were doodling, and one was sewing.

Back in the day, my old geography teacher Mr O’Brien would have given these students a rude awakening with a well aimed board rubber or piece of chalk. Actually, his aim wasn’t that good. The most dangerous place was to be sitting next to the student who wasn’t paying attention. Those were the days! O’Brien would have gone down a storm in China, where the hirsute are often an object of fascination; he had more hair on his fingers than most men have on their chests. I digress.

After an hour and a half the lesson winds down, eventually ended by the sound of the bell that signifies the beginning of the lunch break. Personally, I can’t distinguish between the mid-lesson bell and the lunch bell, but the Pavlovian sensitivities of Chinese students’ brain cells are fine tuned to this important temporal marker. Thus, 15 students that slept through 90 minutes of class were half way to the canteen before the bell stopped ringing. It’s hard not to be a little bit impressed.

The second half of my day was pretty uneventful, and the storm never arrived.  

From Sports Day at high school and inter-department competitions at university, to national and world championship meetings in the big city, this has always been the cry of encouragement (lit. ‘more oil’). Now, I’m giving serious consideration to starting The campaign to save “Jia you”.

Why? Because it is with great sadness that I have to report an end to this time-honoured and familiar call for sporting effort. Here’s the new officially sanctioned cheer, courtesy of the BBC:

Life will never be the same again.

I imagine this will take off because Chinese citizens are used to acting collectively. It seems a bit ‘in your face’ with regard to foreign visitors in my opinion, if for no other reason than it is directed at the home team only. One world; one dream?

Just for the record, I’m banning it in the classroom. “Jia you” is fine, though.