Obstructed Justice and Collective Violence

A horrific story out of Guizhou this past weekend, as riots grip a county there over the death of a teenage girl and the severe beating of her uncle.  AFP has the details and Richard at TPD offers some thoughts and a space for discussion by the usual suspects inhabiting his duck pond.

It’s always tough to judge motivation in acts of collective violence, as several of Richard’s commentators have noted.  That said, latent anger or frustration can react with the catalyst of rumors or events in explosive ways if no other means are available to address ongoing problems or vent grievances.  Perhaps this case strikes me because of a slight similarity to my own dissertation research on the “Tianjin Massacre” 天津教案. In that case, as in this one, perceptions of justice obstructed or denied by the powers that be resulted in people taking matters into their own hands.  Then as now, long standing hostilities–in Tianjin 1870 it was the high-handedness of the foreign powers–find an outlet through acts of violence in a mighty yawp of vengeance.

(Ah, there’s a working title: “A Mighty Yawp of Vengeance,” flows better than what I’m currently using: “A Lynchin’ in Tientsin”)

Whatever the

Another Saturday Night in Beijing…

We’re old. Not chronologically per se, but simply in our habits.  Nevertheless, we decided to fight the gravitational pull of our couch and go out for the evening on the town with our friends B. & V.

Dinner was at El Fogoncito over by Wanda Plaza.  I grew up in New Hampshire, so I can hardly claim to be an expert on authentic Mexican food, but I do go to graduate school in the Central Valley of California and have probably had more dinners at the local taquerias than is healthy for my cholestorol level.  I have to say the food at Fogoncitos is pretty good. The taco shells and chips tasted a bit stale, but overall the rest of the dishes were decent and the relative authenticity was a nice shift from the Tex-Mex focus of the other Mexican offerings in town.  The service on the other hand was…hysterical.  Not funny–though there were moments–but bordering on actual hysteria.  The waitress took a few tries getting the order right, she was sweet and polite, but became progressively flustered as she forgot to serve certain dishes while doubling up on others.  The much-discussed mariachi musicians (who, to debunk a rumor, are

From the Archives: Pulp Fiction and Apartment Hunting in Beijing

Our lease is not up until after the Olympics, but we’re taking some time this month to look around and see what’s out there.  Even though I first thought it insane to even be looking at places right now, given the general avarice of the Landlord class with the big games around the corner, circumstances are working a bit in the renter’s favor.

First, the hordes of foreigners who were expected to crest like a wave of human ATMs through the city next month filling man purses from Haidian to Hebei with rental fees (some ambitiously priced at 100,000 RMB for the two-week period) seem to be staying home.  Perhaps they couldn’t get visas.  Who knows?

But like the Beijing municipal official who wanders bleary-eyed out of a 24-hour KTV parlor into the dusky light of a Beijing Sunday morning, and realizes that the slim young thing he has been alternately serenading and lewdly groping all evening was really a dude, it is dawning on the landlord class in Beijing that the “lao wai as cash piñata” strategy of real estate success might not pan out as well as expected.

Additionally, there are rumors of apartments left behind in the

How do Beijing-Taiwan relations figure in the NBA Draft? Ask the Sports Guy.

Many, if not both, of my regular readers know that I am both a history geek AND a bit of a sports nerd, and one of the biggest events of the year for sports nerds was last night…the NBA draft.  As part of the tradition, ESPN columnist Bill Simmons does an annual ‘running diary‘ which–if you follow the NBA or NCAA basketball even a little–is a guaranteed chuckle.

A couple of related notes…

1) YJ went to Yao Ming’s press conference yesterday and reported that the first question from a Chinese journalist took the form of an inane and asinine pop quiz for the sports icon.

Chinese Reporter: “Do you know what day tomorrow is?”

Yao: “Uh, June 27?”

CR: “Correct. Do you know what happened six years ago that day?”

Yao: “Um…”

CR: “You were drafted number one by the American NBA. How does that make you feel?”

(Shot of Yao looking at his watch and wondering why Tim Duncan doesn’t have to put up with this shit…)

2) Yi Jianlian finally got his wish and was traded out of Milwaukee.  Apparently the Bucks got tired of him whining about finding Chinese food in Wisconsin.

Last year, Simmons had

Translation: Lost

The always whimiscal Beijing Review this month extolls the importance of translators in bridging the cultural gap between East and West.  Given the stilted nature of the Review’s English-language articles, we were all wondering when they’d notice how important a good translator can be, but I digress:

The harmonious coexistence of different nations owes much to translation work, which at its best is able to remove linguistic barriers and facilitate communication between societies, cultures, regions and countries. The result of successful communication is inspiring, allowing new thoughts, wisdom and perspectives to seep into society.

Previously, China has experienced three main upsurges in its translation history: the surge of Buddhist sutra translation that began during the Eastern Han Dynasty (25-220) and continued through the Tang and Song dynasties (AD 618-1279), the sci-tech document translation work that took place in the early 17th century during the late Ming and early Qing dynasties, and the translation of Western Studies between the Opium War and the May 4 Movement (1840-1919). All three periods have one thing in common: these translations played a leading role in the cultural and ideological progress of their respective eras.

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