Is it Journalism? Or is it Propaganda?

A couple of months ago, my father told me something about my great-grandfather, and even my grandfather for that matter, that really made me think about my career.

Before I get into that, a little background on how I chose my profession.  When I was growing up, I wasn't allowed to watch a lot of television.  Some cartoons here, a movie there.  Mostly, I watched the news.  When we got a video camera, I would "broadcast" my own newscasts from the coffee table.  I'd highlight what we had for dinner or where we were going for the day.  During Christmas, I went "live" from our Christmas tree explaining how there were different types of Christmas carols.

When I went to college, it was only natural that I study journalism.  I went to Mizzou because my grandfather was accepted to its journalism school when he was young, but did not have the money or means to leave China.  So I was fulfilling his destiny, if you will.  I loved every moment of my experience there and on most days, I love my job now.  I always thought I was meant to work in journalism.  My great-grandfather was a writer, published in numerous magazines and newspaper in his day.  My grandfather also worked for magazines in China.  My own father is routinely published in newspapers in the U.S. (Chinese ones) and in China.  I truly believed continuing the family tradition was my fate...journalism was in my blood.

Until my father told me technically...technically, both my great-grandfather and grandfather helped spread propaganda

You know, that dirty word in the world of journalism.

Now, I suppose in China, there is no true journalism.  It is all propaganda.  My great-grandfather even became the director of propaganda at one point.  Not for the Communists, but for the Kuomingtang.  My grandfather had an amazing understanding of the English language so during the Cultural Revolution, he was forced by the Communists to spread its propaganda in English.  So it really wasn't his choice.

Nevertheless, I can't help but feel like I was led astray in a way.  Here I was, thinking I was continuing a great family tradition.  Only to find out my ancestors did the very thing that true journalism frowns upon.

Don't get me wrong, I still think my great-grandfather was an amazing man.  Reading (or listening to) my father's book is making me realize his strength in character.  He was so strong and stayed so firm to his convictions during such a difficult time in Chinese history.  He never wavered from his beliefs: never judge one's appearance, always strive to be intelligent and treat others with respect and you will receive it in return.

My grandfather as well.  But I wonder, if my grandfather had the opportunity to attend the University of Missouri School of Journalism, would he have gone back to China, where journalism is synonymous with propaganda?  Would he have taken part in that...even if he didn't have a choice?  Would he have gone on to do something else?  Of course, I don't want to think about that too much because if my grandfather had gone, I would not be here.

I still love what I do...most of the time.  And I'm glad I chose this profession...again, most of the time.  But I guess knowing my path was not as paved as I previously thought, takes some of the pressure off.  And that does feel really good.

Getting Back To My Father's Book

Wow!  It's been so long since I've updated this blog.  This summer has been so busy, between my vacations and co-workers' vacations, which mean I have a forever alternating work schedule, I just have not had time to concentrate on this project!  But now, I'm back at it.  I spent three hours on the phone with my father yesterday and got two interesting blog topics to write about.  What I'm focusing on today is mostly historical.  1927 was really a turning point in Chinese history, particularly how it led to the fall of the Kuomingtang and the Communist Revolution.  (Keep in mind, I'm writing this as a descendant of so-called "Communist traitors.")

For many years, China was split into states, all of them controlled by warlords.  In 1926, the Kuomingtang began what was called the Northern Expedition, which was an effort to unify China.  It began in the south and moved north, hence the name.  The Communist Party, which was smaller at the time, joined in on the effort.  During this period, the Communist Party consisted of a lot of peasants and it was still relatively disorganized so most of its movements were somewhat chaotic.

In April of 1927, Chiang Kai-shek, who was an important military leader then, announced he wanted the Kuomingtang to separate from the Communist Party.  As a result, many of the Communists were caught and executed.  A few months later, in July, the Kuomingtang officially announced it was going to split from the Communist Party.  The Communists retreated from Wuhan quietly.  It was from here on out that the Communist Party was declared an illegal organization.

However, just because they were no longer "in power" the Communists did not stop organizing.  In fact, it was probably because they were forced to retreat that anger and resentment grew.  The party recruited peasants and other uneducated people who were unhappy with the way they were treated by the wealthy.  Therefore, the Chinese Communist Party become the force that eventually overthrew the Kuomingtang.

Back to 1926-1927, Wuhan served as a center for all of this activity.  This was when my great-grandfather joined the movement and served as an instructor at a military school there.  He supported the idea of a unified China.  However, he was mortified by the amount of unnecessary violence the Communist Party used to gain control.  When the Kuomingtang announced the separation, my great-grandfather was afraid he would be captured by the Communists so he went into hiding with his family.  They rented a small apartment in another section of Wuhan and used another name for a while.  It wasn't until the Kuomingtang took complete control of Wuhan that my great-grandfather and my family were able to lead somewhat normal lives again.

This was always a very confusing part of Chinese history for me.  I wasn't aware the Kuomingtang and the Communist Party worked together for a while.  I remember my LaoLao (my mother's mother) telling me when she was young, she was a part of the Communist Party.  I was shocked because I know my grandfather, her husband, died at the hands of the Communists during the Revolution in the 1960s.  Now I understand.  At one point, the two parties were mixed, supposedly fighting for the same goal on the surface, while each secretly wanted to gain total control of the country.

Through this process, I am not only learning about my family's history, I'm learning so much more about Chinese history as well.  And what I wrote here is an over-simplified version of events.  China's history is so much more complicated than I think I will ever understand.  I just hope I can get enough insight to know where I come from.

Revisiting Emotions

After several busy weeks at work, I am finally back on a normal schedule and back to working on my father's book.  I have to admit, and I know my father reads this, but I was bored for a few chapters because they were mostly historical. 

Then today, that all changed.  Chapter 32 brought me back to the early chapters of the book.  The ones that I enjoyed so much...when my great-grandmother was first married and living in her mother-in-laws house.   She returned to the house after several years away in Shanghai, living with her husband, my great-grandfather.

Before I get too ahead of myself, here's a peek at what led to this.  My great-grandfather left his publishing job in Shanghai to join the revolution.  He accepted a position at a military school in Wuhan.  The revolution was picking up speed and soon war broke out.  It was making its way to Wuhan, so my great-grandfather had to join the battle.  For their safety, my great-grandmother took the children and returned to her mother-in-law's house.  It was as if nothing had changed.  Her mother-in-law immediately blamed my great-grandmother, saying she did not do enough to keep my great-grandfather from war.  She said my great-grandmother killed him, sent him to his grave for "allowing" him to join the military.  She ordered my great-grandmother to go find him and bring him home.  Fortunately, to protect the family line, her mother-in-law allowed my great-grandmother to leave her two older children at the house.

Before she left, my great-grandmother went to visit Li Zhu's grave.  You'll remember, Li Zhu was her oldest daughter, who had died several years earlier, at the end of Chapter 8.  My great-grandmother's pain and heartache was still so fresh.  Despite the years that had passed, she never once forgot about Li Zhu.  The raw emotion was overwhelming.  My eyes were so filled with tears as I listened to this passage, I could not see the computer keys or what I was typing on the screen.

Nothing in their lives were easy.  It was a constant struggle to survive.  And, this is just the beginning.  The worst is yet to come.  Nevertheless, my great-grandparents managed to lead a life filled with integrity and honor.  They passed onto their children that same sense of sincerity and virtue.  My grandmother instilled the same into my father.  Now, I can only hope that I carry some of those qualities as well.

Long Overdue

I just saw the date of my last post...April 19th.  Yikes!  It's been a while.

I actually feel really bad about not posting more often.  The project is progressing along quite nicely.  I'm done with nearly 30 chapters.  But I've had so many thoughts running through my head for this blog that it just became entirely too overwhelming and I found myself just avoiding it.

There's actually a little guilt involved as well.  What's been wonderful is the deep understanding I'm gaining for my family, my history and my culture.  But there is one thing I just can't get out of my head.  This isn't something that's new to me.  I've wondered it before.  It's a cultural thing that I don't think I will ever understand.

Why don't Chinese couples speak to each other with any warmth?

Okay, that's a gross over-generalization, but haven't you ever wondered "Why are those Chinese people yelling at each other?"  "Why are they mad at each other" or "That Chinese couple must be fighting."  I've been asked those questions many times.  The truth is, most of the time, they're not furious with one another, they're just having a conversation.

My parents did this when I was growing up.  As we've assimilated into American society, they slowly grew out of it and now they're love for each other is very obvious.  Not that I ever doubted it, but it's much more evident in the way they talk to each other now.

Perhaps part of it is the way my father is reading his story.  I made fun of him in the beginning of this process, saying he's a great storyteller but his narrating falls a bit flat.  I agreed with him when he said he was going to present the book to me as straight forward as possible.  But the words he uses give me the same feeling.  While there's no question my great-grandmother and great-grandfather were deeply devoted to one another and their family, their choice of words and the tone makes it seem otherwise.

For example, at one point in the book, my grandmother hugs her mother and asks if she loves her father.  Simple question, right?  One every child asks their parent at some point.  In America, if a child were to ask that question, the parent would most likely answer, "Yes, I love your *insert appropriate noun here* very much."  Maybe not in those exact words, but something close.  Instead, my great-grandmother acted annoyed, brushed off the question and ordered my mother to bed.

Now, of course, there's the old adage - actions speak louder than words.  And I agree with that entirely.  What good are the words if you don't back them up?  But I still don't think there's anything wrong with assuring your children/spouse/significant other that you love them.

Like I said, there's no real answer to this question.  It's just one of those big differences between cultures.  Something I will never come to understand.  In this way, I'm happy I was raised in a country where it's okay to show your feelings for someone else, where it is, in fact, encouraged.

I love my parents, my family, my friends and I am not afraid to say it!

Here's a look at some of the people in my beautiful family:

My mother, me, my great-grandfather, my father, my uncle

My guess is this was probably 1987 or so (despite the fact that my pants say it's 1973)