以下是一篇在清華教書的一個老外的文章，在四川地震後，他在課堂上和學生討論中國政府應該先幫助四川災民，還是幫助更嚴重的緬甸災民。
結果當然是「賴晒野」，惹來學生史無前例的怨恨。
然後他反醒到：
Or maybe it’s just a matter of timing. Imagine a professor in New York,
just after the 9/11 attacks, asking students to argue about whether
donations are best spent aiding relatives of the victims of those
attacks or victims of war abroad. He might well have been shouted out
of the room. But a year later, say, it could have been a subject of
discussion. The question, I guess, is whether my students and I will be
able to debate China’s global obligations a year from now.
其實現在中國的狀態和美國
911後是很相似的。在地震剛發生後，中文傳媒都選擇性報導正面的救災消息。如果說這是傳媒「大陸化」就錯了。很多西方媒體都喜歡猜測這次救災是否做
show，但我聽過不少在現場的外國記者，在訪問中都反駁這個觀點。為何這樣呢？他們在現場看到的是前線人員馬不停蹄地救人，人家在生與死的關頭，你還說
這些話，真是太涼薄了。在美國911發生後，美國很 liberal 的傳媒都突然變得很愛國，多報導正面的新聞，為讀者療傷。
不過昨天打開了 cctv4 看了一回，全是歌功頌德，看了一會就沒法看下去了。我不否認政府做了很多，但這個史無前例的災難，沒可能解決得這樣完美吧？
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New York Times
China’s Class Divide
By DANIEL A. BELL
Published: May 21, 2008
AS
tragic as the Sichuan earthquake has been, perhaps it can do some good
by helping dispel a widespread myth: that the new generation of Chinese
students are materialistic and selfish.
I’ve been teaching political theory at Tsinghua University here since
2004 and I’ve found that almost all of my students are driven to do
good for society. So I wasn’t surprised when, as word of the disaster
came out, hundreds of Tsinghua students lined up overnight at a Red
Cross station to donate blood and supplies. Others went to the
earthquake zone, more than 1,000 miles away, to distribute aid.
Now
I’m hoping events can dispel another false impression: that young
Chinese are xenophobic nationalists who cheer for their country, good
or bad.
Tsinghua is one of China’s most prestigious universities
and it is known for its politically conservative orientation. President
Hu Jintao is an alumnus, and most of my colleagues are Communist Party
members, as are many of my students.
Yet the atmosphere is
anything but conservative. The most popular lecturers tend to be the
ones who openly criticize contemporary China. In private, students are
quick to express frustration at Internet censorship and official
propaganda. In class, student questions are often critical to the point
that I need to introduce some “pro-government” views for balance.
Shortly
after the uprisings in Tibet in March, I happened to lecture on Locke’s
idea of constitutional democracy. A student asked if the “right to
rebel” would justify the use of violence by Tibetans fighting for
independence. In the interest of class time, I had to shut off the
discussion. The next week we discussed Isaiah Berlin’s concept of
freedom, and a student mentioned the cover illustration of a German
magazine that depicted the Olympic rings in barbed wire. Once again, I
was forced into the strange position of cutting off debate before it
got out of hand.
After the Sichuan earthquake, one student told
me the disaster was a punishment from heaven and that the government
would have to make amends. Another accused the local government of
suppressing news predicting an earthquake because it might have
disrupted the “harmonious environment” for the Olympics.
A few
days later, I was due to lecture on John Rawls’s theory of justice. By
then, the huge toll of the earthquake had become apparent and the
national mood had turned grim. Before the class, four students came to
my office, raising doubts about the relevance of the “abstract”
theories I was teaching and urging me to use more concrete examples. So
I tried hard to think of an example that the students could grapple
with.
Finally I came up with a good one (or so I thought).
According to Rawls, the state should give first consideration to the
worst-off members of the community. But which “community” matters? Do
the state’s obligations extend outside national boundaries? For
example, the cyclone in Burma caused more deaths than the Chinese
earthquake. Should China help the victims of the Burmese cyclone, even
if it means less aid for the rescue mission in China?
When I
finished, the class went unexpectedly silent, to the point that I could
feel a certain amount of hostility. Finally a student said that of
course the Chinese government should help the Chinese first. But why, I
said? Another student said, it’s obvious, the victims are Chinese. “But
why, why?” I asked, somewhat impatiently. Give me some reasons.
Some
students spoke up. There is no global institution that could distribute
aid in accordance with Rawls’s principles of justice. The Chinese
people pay taxes to the Chinese state, so the state has special
obligations to them. The Chinese state couldn’t do much for the Burmese
people even if it wanted to.
I responded that the Burmese
government is truly awful, blocking aid to its own people, and that the
Chinese government could have some influence on it. A student commented
that liberal theories may not be appropriate in China. I wanted to
reply that Confucian theories can also justify intervention to help
oppressed foreigners, but the bell rang. In the past, the ever-polite
students would clap in appreciation before leaving. This time, there
was no applause
When I got home, I realized that I had trodden
on sensitive territory. Chinese TV has been filled with scenes of death
and devastation, of Chinese soldiers wading through mud and gore to
help the victims. Every conversation is prefaced with concern about the
victims. I sent an e-mail message to the class apologizing for the
“wrong-headed” example, adding, “It is very admirable what students at
Tsinghua are doing to support the earthquake victims and I didn’t mean
to imply that we must choose between two tragedies.”
A student
wrote back saying, “It is not a wrong-headed example; we just have
clear and strong identification.” That seems to go to the heart of what
went wrong. It’s perfectly natural to care about people closer to home,
especially in times of disaster. I think I have a soft spot for the
Chinese, but I still wasn’t sufficiently sensitive to their point of
view.
Or maybe it’s just a matter of timing. Imagine a professor
in New York, just after the 9/11 attacks, asking students to argue
about whether donations are best spent aiding relatives of the victims
of those attacks or victims of war abroad. He might well have been
shouted out of the room. But a year later, say, it could have been a
subject of discussion. The question, I guess, is whether my students
and I will be able to debate China’s global obligations a year from now.
Daniel A. Bell is the author of “China’s New Confucianism: Politics and Everyday Life in a Changing Society.”
[1]
[2] Re: 妖夜叉
[3] Re: andrew
[4]
[5] Re: 碧潭
[6]
