The Fine Art of Reframing…

This week's report comes from the Micro Coffee Shop in Dongguan. Fortunately, the name refers neither to the size of the premises, rather generous, or to the size of the portions, again quite copious. For some strange reason, the more the economy creaks and groans towards the possibility of recession here, the more these coffee houses spring up. From the point of view of a nomadic flaneur in constant need of refreshment and a place to write, this is a very positive development. On the other hand, one wonders what is happening to the underlying economy here as the slowdown starts to bite deeper and deeper.

The coffee house itself is just one of a chain one sees in South China. Micro Coffee's shops seem clean, well managed and quite appealing. The seats are comfortable with a pleasant selection of coffees on offer. What more could a peripatetic flaneur wish for? Whilst enjoying the fayre on offer in such coffee houses, it is not unusual to enjoy a little conversation, or even some gentle banter, with the locals, or at least those that have a smattering of English.

One of the crucial factors one has to realise when discussing any issue with Chinese citizens living within the country is that their own sources of news are very restricted. There is some debate, online and even occasionally on television, but essentially the discussion is down to variations on the theme, rarely disagreement with the theme itself.

This, naturally, is very advantageous to the powers that be (a lovely phrase, that one!). They don't really need to win the debate or convince anyone as other governments around the world find themselves having to, they simply decide the policy and instruct the media to broadcast in, together with instructions as to how exactly it is to be framed.

Many years ago, seems like another lifetime now, I studied the somewhat dark arts of NLP (Neuro Linguistic Programming) as developed by Richard Bandler and John Grinder. I say 'dark arts' as one pretty soon realises that although such practices are often presented, and indeed used, in a therapeutic context, they can and are readily abused by such amoral or immoral folk as those involved in government or advertising, to name but two areas where these techniques have been roundly used to exploit, cheat and generally take advantage of the unwary.

(On this front, I think if I hear one more person assure me that advertising has”no effect on me” I think I will start to tear out my already very short hair. The last invulnerable soul who assured me of this being the case was the proud owner of a Hummer…)

The Chinese economy is in some trouble now. One hears of firms going bust on a regular basis and simply by looking around it is plain to see that many shops are no longer occupied, even in some of the primest of locations. The government here though, is still as popular as ever, which speaks volumes for their skills at the fine arts of presentation and reframing. In NLP terms, a reframe is used to realign or reshape one's thinking on a given issue or situation. It is a very powerful technique, perhaps more so because of its ubiquity; there is scarcely any situation that a skilful reframe cannot change one's perception of.

At the recent New Year's celebration it was very apparent that the amount of money spent by local government, usually so generous in such affairs, was relatively mean. The fireworks in particular were noticeable by their absence. This sad state of affairs was presented as the administration practising those fine traditional Chinese values of prudence and economic restraint. A classic reframe, but one that worked very well, some people even telling me how much they admired the government for returning to such sensible ways.

Basically, in China, if you can couch the reframe in terms of nationalism and especially in terms of traditional Chinese culture, you are halfway there already. Those in power, like those who remain in power around the globe, know exactly what buttons to press when needed and exactly how to structure a needed reframe to cast themselves in the best possible light.

Another classic tactic along these lines is to point out that although things may be bad here, they are a lot worse somewhere else. Far too many times now, when the subject of the poor air quality comes up, I hear people referring to the awful smogs of London. Now, while it is true that there were indeed awful smogs in London, these mostly came to an end in the 1960s with the Clean Air Act. To listen to many people hear one would think that the news reflects the current state of affairs in the UK's capital. In one recent dinner conversation, my fellow guests seemed genuinely surprised, even a little shocked, when I showed that day's figures from Dongguan and London via an app on my Windows phone. London's air quality figures were about one fifth of those in Dongguan (pm2.5s at around 35 compared to Dongguan's 180). Beijing, needless to say, would suffer even more by comparison.

Perhaps the bleakest and most cynical tactic of all in times of economic hardship is the call to patriotism. Nationalism here is already very strong and needs but little stoking to work people into something of a patriotic fervour. In this way, China is very different from more mature systems such as those found in Europe or America. Often in those cases there are enough worldly wise folk willing to point out such tactics that the politicians are often weary of employing them. Not so in China where if there is any opposition, it will scarcely dare to raise its voice (perhaps wisely) anyway.

Currently China is involved in territorial disputes with at least seven other states, any of which can and is used to stir up nationalistic feeling when required. Perhaps of these, the dispute in the South China Sea is the most likely to flare up into something very dangerous. In this particular instance, China finds itself in dispute with the Philippines, Vietnam, Brunei, Indonesia and Malaysia. One worries that, given the current deteriorating economic situation, it could prove all too tempting to focus the population's attention away from the problems at home and into such dangerous waters.

Back in the coffee house some of my fellow imbibers are now enjoying a game of cards, whilst others watch basketball on a 42inch screen. The latter is very popular here, Dongguan in particular being known as the 'City of Basketball'. Personally, it has never been to my tastes, consisting as it does of a lot of very tall men running down one end of a court to put a ball into a net, then running up the other end and doing the same thing there. The highlight seems to be when they occasionally bump into each other but, as highlights go, its not particularly riveting.

All seems normal, perhaps even prosperous at this level. Beneath the surface though, it is not hard to detect the stark reality of an economy and a people who are  beginning to scent the unpleasant odour of recession. As ever in China, the stage managing is very impressive, but also as ever, economic reality will, in the end, prove very difficult to conceal forever.

Son of Sun Tzu

“Gumbei” said Master Sun as he held up his glass of beer. “Gumbei” I responded, clinking glasses before consuming half the contents. Master Sun, in the true style of an advanced Taiji practitioner, downed the whole glass in a few brief seconds. A smile broke out upon his features. A smile for Master Sun was a slight narrowing of the eyes and the most minuscule curl of the lips, maybe a sixteenth of an inch, maybe less. The Master was the very quintessence of Eastern inscrutability.
       I had met Master Sun the day before at morning Taiji practice. He had strolled in amongst us quietly, not even needing to announce his presence. He wore Western style clothes on his thick-set body and even sported a pair of Nike sneakers on his feet. If I had to estimate, I would have said he was around 5 feet 9 inches, perhaps a fraction more. It was not so much his height that was impressive as the sheer solidity of his frame. He was build like an extremely solid out-building....a brick one at that!
       I was asked if I would like to practice with Master Sun, just a simple exercise known as 'push-hands', it would have seemed churlish to decline. The Master took up position opposite me and I crouched a little to bring my much taller frame into line. The procedure starts with the two practitioners opposing the backs of their hands. One then turns his palm inwards, attempting to push into the opponent's chest whilst the opponent using the back of his wrist to turn the blow to one side and then return the attack to the other person. In theory, the power for the deflective movement is not supposed to come from the hand or even the arm, but originate from the shoulder and the turning of the hips. The arm should actually stay relaxed during the process. In practice, this is easier said than done...
       Facing Master Sun that morning I could feel the power of the man. It seemed as if he were rooted to the ground, a seemingly immovable object that I nevertheless had to attempt to move. Within a few passes the muscles of my upper arm ached and were sending urgent messages to my brain, begging me to stop. I tried to remain impassive and ignore the steadily raising levels of discomfort and pain, attempting to give no clue to my opponent of the difficulties I was experiencing. Master Sun looked totally impassive, almost a little indulgent, as if he were playing with a small child rather than a six foot eight, 100 kilo opponent. Strength just seemed to ooze from the man, each movement so sparingly economic yet so profoundly powerful.
       Rumour was that Master Sun's lineage was from the famous Sun family. The family are known throughout China for their martial expertise, both in the sense of their military involvement and in the sense of specialising in the martial arts. Master Sun himself had served in the military with distinction, teaching the receptive soldiers of the People's Liberation Army the skills of Taiji and Kungfu. The Sun's were a family whose due was immense respect and reverence.
       It was even rumoured to be the case that Master Sun himself may have been related to the same branch of the family that produced Sun Tzu, the author of 'The Art of War'. This volume was penned some fifteen hundred years ago by General Sun Tzu of the Wu Kingdom. Under threat from a neighbouring and much larger kingdom, his strategy guided his king to a great and resounding victory and, more importantly, a productive peace. Sun Tzu's strategy did not stop at the cessation of hostilities but continued on into the nature of occupation. Throughout history, Sun Tzu's treatise has guided many a fine military leader in both war and peace. Unfortunately, these lessons, ancient and venerated as they are, seemed to have bypassed more modern American thinkers in campaigns such as Iraq. That particular case could be held as a fine exemplar of how not to execute a war, particularly in regard to the occupation phase.
       Not all Americans were as ignorant as those in power at the time of the Iraq war. Perhaps the greatest American general of all time, General Douglas MacArthur, was a well-known student of Sun Tzu's masterpiece. He applied the lessons of war very successfully in the Philippines campaign of World War Two and again the lessons for peace in his reconstruction of the defeated Japanese nation.
       The greatest exponent of all though has to be the renowned Vietnamese general  Vo Nguyen Giap who sadly died at the beginning of this October 2013 at the venerable age of 102. He successively defeated the Japanese in the Second World War, the French in the 1950's and the Americans in the 1960's and 70's. During the Vietnam conflict, after achieving considerable success against the Americans using the methods advocated by Sun Tzu, the politicians forced him to adopt different tactics during the Tet Offensive of 1968. This turned out to be one of his few defeats. After that, the politicians left the strategy and tactics to Giap, resulting in a victory against  perhaps the most powerful military nation on the planet at that time.
       Meanwhile, my own struggles against Sun Tzu's descendant were not going that well. My arm felt like it was about to desert my body, it ached so much. Not a flicker of expression from Master Sun though. After about three minutes, the Master relented. I think he knew he could defeat me with even the slightest extra push at this stage but was gracious enough to forego the victory. We shook hands and he walked away to talk to the other practitioners. After a few moments he returned, card in hand, inviting me to come to him for further instruction in the subtler aspects of Chinese martial arts, if I so desired.
       Back in the restaurant the next day I glanced across at the table to my right. The empties of the previous seven litres of beer stood there as evidence of our session. Master Sun may well be far more proficient in martial arts but I can still drink with the best if called upon. The more we drank the more I found myself enjoying the process and going from a 'ban bei' (half glass) to the full amount each time by the end. I still made sure that I gulped it down slightly slower than the master – this as a measure of the respect he was due – but enjoying the competition and the feelings of camaraderie it engendered. Indeed, the whole meal was turning into a very pleasant experience. Although we shared barely any language my friend Huang Mengxue was able to make some of the more important points and body language and gesture seemed to cover the rest.
       One final bottle to consume – two last glasses to fill. Master Sun's expression, still the essence of inscrutability was, at the same time, warming considerably.
       We clinked the glasses together one last time, each of us echoing one of the few words we both understood:
“Gumbei!”