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At the AsiaD tech conference, Jack Ma, chairman and chief executive of Chinese Internet company Alibaba, says he is looking for U.S. partners to make a potential bid for Yahoo. WSJ’s Jake Lee and Allison Morrow discuss.

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The son of a Chinese army general well-known for his singing will be detained for a year, state media reported late Thursday, following an alleged assault that renewed public criticism of the children of the nation’s powerful elite. The son of Li Shuangjiang, a 72-year-old senior official in the People’s Liberation Army known for singing patriotic songs at public events, will be detained by police in a correctional facility for one year, according to the state-run Xinhua news agency. Police said Gen. Li’s 15-year-old son last week assaulted a Beijing couple following a traffic dispute then warned onlookers not to call the authorities, according to state-run media. Mr. Li’s son admitted to police that he was responsible, Xinhua said late Thursday. Further details of his detention weren’t disclosed. Xinhua didn’t identify the son Thursday night, but previous state media reports gave his name as Li Tianyi. According to the reports, Mr. Li and another person were attempting to exit a driveway in a residential section of Beijing while driving a customized BMW when they discovered the couple’s car blocking their way. Neither Li could be reached late Thursday, nor could the local public-security branch where they were reported to be held. The episode ignited fierce criticism on the Chinese-language Internet over the fuerdai, or the second generation of the rich, as the children of China’s privileged are sometimes known. It follows another incident famous in China, in which the son of a police official in Hebei province last year hit and killed a young woman in his car, then warned security guards, “My dad is Li Gang!” –Carlos Tejada

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Author: Ho-fung Hung, The Johns Hopkins University China recently experienced a spate of violent protests in the North and South. Impressed by the scale and intensity of these incidents, some foreign media have portrayed them as preludes to a bigger wave of grassroots resistance that could crack open the authoritarian state. We cannot rule out this possibility, only time will tell; but we should not forget that similar waves of confrontational protests were far from rare throughout the two decades after 1989. In the 1990s and 2000s, the media took a similar line on the plentiful rural tax riots, militant protests of laid-off workers, and confrontations triggered by other sources. They cast them as precursors to a larger-scale movement that could radically change the status quo. But these waves of unrest came and went, and the party-state remained venerated. Accompanying the recent surges of violent resistance — which mostly target local authorities — is the rise of humble petitions in which disgruntled citizens from all over China travel to Beijing to file complaints at the central government office against local governments. These petitioners are usually non-confrontational, and frequently weep and kneel before government offices to seek sympathy from authorities. Explanations for the stability of the authoritarian state, despite escalating social tensions, abound. Many are founded on short-term factors like the extended economic boom and organisational capacity of the Chinese Communist Party. If we look at Chinese history, we find many similar periods in which rising corruption on the part of the state and exploding popular grievances did not generate social upheavals disruptive enough to threaten the existing political order. What they did do was precipitate petitions at the imperial court in conjunction with violent resistance against local officials. In these instances the unrest never spilled over to higher level authorities. In my new book ( Chinese with Chinese Characteristics: Demonstrations, Riots, and Petitions in the Mid Qing Dynasty ) I surveyed thousands of cases of confrontational and non-confrontational protests and their contexts from the mid eighteenth to the mid nineteenth century. I found that similar waves of violent resistance against local governments coupled with humble petitions to the power centre in Beijing, such as the wave in the early nineteenth century, cannot be explained simply by contingent political-economic factors, but had much to do with a deep-rooted Confucianist conception of authority and justice. Under this conception, abused subjects have all right to fight corrupt officials by any means necessary, but they should also count on the emperor as the loving grand patriarch to redress the injustice, just like children abused by their parents should look to their grandparents or lineage elders for paternalist protection. Time and again this attitude brought petitions to the emperor — known as capital appeals or jingkong in imperial times — that shielded the imperial centre from popular unrest, helping the rulers survive major social crises. It should be noted though that this ‘safety valve’ for the central authorities only worked when the subjects generally trusted that their rulers were legitimate and morally righteous. Such trust could disappear easily, sometimes because of rumours about the emperor’s promiscuity, or sometimes because of the emperor’s perceived failure in performing certain critical functions (such as defending the empire against foreign aggressors). Once this trust disappeared, the process of humble petition to the imperial centre could suddenly recede and rebellion spring up in its place. The escalating popular violence against local authorities and humble petition to the central government in the last two decades should be understood in light of this longstanding Confucianist conception of authority. This conception persists despite all the ideological and political revolutions of the twentieth century, and is constantly reproduced in popular legends, local historical dramas and TV series about the imperial past. The perception of the central government is one of a loving grand patriarch who can do justice to downtrodden people and sanction his abusive officials. (It is not an accident that Premier Wen Jiabao once called himself ‘grandpa Wen’ — Wen yeye — in front of the people.) The Party’s actions and circumstances mirror the way a similar perception helped the Jiaqing and Daoguang emperors hold the empire together. This was despite deepening social and political crises in the 1810s through the 1840s, when the Qing defeat in the Opium War finally dispelled all popular trust in the imperial centre. Given all this, we should not expect the growing social unrest today to necessarily destabilise the authoritarian status quo. But we should not be surprised if an unexpected singular event — such as a major economic blunder, a scandal involving  the highest leaders or defeat in a geopolitical conflict — abruptly displaces the popular trust in the central government and precipitates a breakdown of the party-state. Ho-fung Hung is Associate Professor in the Department of Sociology at The Johns Hopkins University. Economic and political transition in China and Indonesia A change in Egypt’s political weather filters through to China Political reform in China: Wen will it happen and Hu will lead it?

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As China’s influence intensifies across the world, interest in the study of its official language is also growing. Fluency in Mandarin – long the world’s most commonly spoken language – has become an increasingly desirable skill in both business and diplomatic circles, with roughly 1,600 American public and private schools now offering Mandarin classes . Recently, the language has even been dubbed “ the new English ” by those confident in its future. But as author Deborah Fallows found out, knowledge of Chinese is advantageous in more than just a political or economic sense. A Harvard graduate with a PhD in linguistics, Fallows and her husband lived in China for three years, during which she undertook to learn as much as she could about the native tongue. “Dreaming in Chinese: Lessons in Life, Love, and Language” documents her efforts to acclimate to Mandarin as well as what the language revealed to her about Chinese history, etiquette, social identity and even romance. The book was first released in the US in late 2010, and a paperback version scheduled to come out in September of this year. China Real Time caught up with Ms. Fallows by email and asked her about how studying Mandarin compares with studying other languages, what native speakers think of her book and whether or not Chinese speakers love their language more than English speakers. As a linguist, you must have studied a lot of languages. How did studying Mandarin compare? No contest: Mandarin is both the most difficult and the most challenging language I’ve studied. I have studied lots of languages in my life, starting with French, Latin, and German in high school. During linguistics courses in college and graduate school, I studied more – a Bantu language, Swedish, and others, [although] in academic linguistics, you spend more studying about the language — its structure, sound system, semantics, evolution, things like that. Mandarin was completely different, in all the linguistic ways mentioned above, from any other language I spent any time on.  The good news: very little grammar. The bad news: tones, a sound system with lots of new and barely distinguishable sounds. It took me about 18 months of regular study before I got traction and felt I wasn’t re-learning the same thing every week. So, functionally, it was a real challenge. But linguistically, it grew more and more fascinating. I kept running into things where I’d think: Languages are not supposed to do this! Why are there so many homonyms, when the point of language is to clarify, not obstruct. Why tones? Why so many compound words? I could go on. Most books on China approach the country through more traditional lenses: economics, politics, media, etc. Does the language approach reveal aspects of the country that others miss? The books about China I have enjoyed most and learned most from are those that narrow in on China with a small lens. None of these books pretends to cover the panorama of China, but each of them brings an insight into China from the special experience of the writer. Because of my background in linguistics, I found that the language was my way in to the country and culture Early on, I would be surprised at the abruptness of many short exchanges I was having with people. On my side, I always wanted to tack on some equivalent of Sorry, or Thanks, or some words like could, should, would – all those softeners that make a message less severe. I learned soon enough that it was the nature of the Chinese language that mainly drove home the impression of abruptness. Compared to most other languages, Chinese goes very short on the usual softeners and is a very spare language. Seeing that blend of language and culture can help put impressions or situations into context. That is the kind of way language can help understand culture. But as a discipline, language doesn’t have a particular lock on the advantage; art, architecture, cuisine, dance — they can all do the same thing. A common complaint from Americans studying Mandarin is etiquette reversal. Commenting on someone’s weight isn’t considered rude, for example, while – as you’ve mentioned — using courtesies like “please” and “thank you” are rare. How do you deal with such a linguistic about-face? This is interesting.  I realized pretty early on how much more often I was saying my pleases and thank yous in China – much more often than I heard coming from the Chinese. It was hard to NOT do it! It’s one thing to learn the language, then it’s another thing to learn the social and cultural conventions for when, where, and how often to use the actual words. And then it’s a final step to really believe it and practice it! How can you suddenly leave off the pleases when you have lived a life where please and thank you are drummed into you from the get go? Or how can you not be taken aback when asked about your earnings, your rent, your age, or asked which of your children you like best? This is part of the non-classroom learning that makes living within another language fun. Have you had any feedback on the book from fluent Mandarin speakers? What’s been their reaction? Oh, this has been one of the best rewards of writing this book. I have found that the Mandarin speakers are first of all really pleased that someone is interested in their language. I shouldn’t have been surprised at that; hearing a newcomer’s reaction offers a chance to consider your language in a different light. And second, many Chinese speakers have brought their own stories and experiences to illustrate some of the language points I talk about in the book. When talking about “I love you,” people’s stories come spilling out about how their mothers never told them, as children, that they loved them. And only now do they realize how unusual that might be. One Chinese woman told me an involved story about her childhood experience with a western missionary couple. The couple took her and some school friends on a picnic, [during which] the husband asked his wife to “please” pass the water. The schoolgirls were shocked – horrified – that this husband would ask his wife for something in such a formal way. This woman had carried this memory for probably six decades, and her story came spilling out, vividly and personally, like it had happened yesterday. One of the themes that runs through the book is becoming more local or, as you put it, one of the lăobăixìng . Does someone have to immerse themselves in culture to achieve fluency in a language? Some people can read fluently in a foreign language without ever having spoken a word. Some naturally-gifted linguists can speak nearly like natives without having been to the country where the language is spoken. And I have watched my mother, an American, and my sister’s mother-in-law, an Italian – neither able to speak the other’s language – “chat” away for hours  about all manner of things with all kinds of gestures and knowing glances, without much language at all. So who knows what fluency really is. If language is all about communicating, then anything and everything you do to communicate helps, be it studying the language or trying to understand the culture. We do what we can. Goodwill can go a long way toward making up for grammatical mistakes or forgotten vocabulary. There’s an interesting linguistic battle going on in Taiwan right now over the use of traditional versus simplified Chinese characters that brings to mind the long-running debate about the value of the character system – are characters holding China back? China has been unusually engaged in language planning.  In the early 20 th century, language was examined along with so many other things in society. Should there be a national language?  What about a standard pronunciation? Phonetic systems came and went, Mao introduced simplified characters, and the battles over simplified v. traditional characters rage on. As a more aural than visual person, I find characters incredibly difficult. But I’m not alone! Many of my Chinese friends say even they get rusty with characters if they don’t keep up with them. As hard as I find them to learn, and as inefficient as the system might seem, I also deeply appreciate the value of the history tied up in the characters. The good news, I would argue, is that the (often maligned) pinyin system does a great service in bridging the gap to modern times. It helps with all things digital, and it helps make Mandarin accessible to foreign language learners around the world. So, it seems to be that this two-party system works pretty well overall. You write in the book that “the typical Chinese person [seems] keenly invested in his [or her] own language.” Are you suggesting that Chinese people have a deeper appreciation or love for their language in comparison to, say, English speakers? I’ll crawl out on a limb and say, Yes, I do think the Chinese have a deeper appreciation and love for their language than English speakers do. Why? Time and energy spent on language education: Mastering character writing is a lot harder for kids than mastering printing and cursive. And the history, culture, and story-telling that are wrapped into characters are certainly more engaging than learning the rules of English writing and spelling. So, perhaps Chinese kids get hooked on their language from the start. Also, the thread of Chinese language history compared to English. Mandarin has resisted the influence of foreign languages while English has given and taken from lots of languages around the world.  The Norman Conquest in 1066 implanted English with half of its modern vocabulary from French.  No such thing in Chinese.  Perhaps a more straight-line history of the language makes it more accessible. China’s government has gotten into the Mandarin teaching game in a big way with its global network of Confucius Institutes. Should people be concerned about learning Chinese from a government sponsored? I’ve been to a Confucius Institute program in Indiana. I’ve visited their spectacular new headquarters in Beijing. I’ve heard people voice the concern you raised. I’ve heard people enthusiastically praise the programs in their communities; they appreciate the sponsorship, the native-speaker teachers of Mandarin, and the cultural programs brought to the town. As for the “communist agenda” and propaganda, I think people should be aware of the content of the courses and the context of all classrooms where their young children study (and older students should take that responsibility on themselves) – be it science, history, religion, or foreign language.  Critical awareness of Chinese language teaching is no particular exception. – Melissa Powers

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Demonstrators clench their fists and hold up placards during a protest against what Manila claims to be Chinese intrusions into Spratly Islands territories claimed by the Philippines, during a protest in front of the Chinese Consulate in Makati financial district yesterday China stepped up criticism of the Philippines in a fresh exchange of …

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Despite the fact that nearly 40% of China’s elderly suffer from depression, according to a recent report from state-run Xinhua News Agency, most Chinese have upbeat outlooks for their retirement. In fact, they’re more optimistic about their post-work lives than almost everyone else, according to a new study from HSBC. Surveying 17,000 working adults in 17 places, HSBC found that 75% of Chinese believe they’ll be better off than their parents when it comes to retirement. That level of hopefulness puts China second only to India (78%) in the survey, and well ahead of developed countries. Having watched their economy rise to become the world’s second largest, Chinese citizens are far more optimistic than their U.S. counterparts, where only 22% of citizens believe the quality of their lives in retirement will surpass their parents’, perhaps because they’ve spent the last few years reading headlines about the economic downturn and stubbornly high employment rates. But even sub-prime-battered Americans have a rosier outlook than the French, who finished dead last among those surveyed with a meager 13% expecting to retire in better style than mom and dad. China’s rosy retirement outlook is a stark contrast to an April poll from the Washington, D.C.-based Gallup Organization, which found that 71% of Chinese see themselves as struggling and 17% say they are downright struggling . One explanation for the pessimism reflected in the Gallup poll might be China’s inflation rate, which stood at 5.3% in April and remains persistently high despite government attempts to dampen it through interest rate increases and curbs on lending. For the elderly, who have fixed incomes, rising food and housing prices have hit hard, with many racing to grocery stores in March to stock up on soap and laundry detergent when they heard prices would rise. Yet the majority of Chinese still feel equipped for the long-term future, according to the HSBC study. Having enough money to live on after a career ends is a big worry for most, but not in China, where 78% of people say they’ve adequately prepared. The study attributes some of China’s preparedness to the fact that the country’s citizens, well known for their savings habits, are accustomed to socking their money in preparation FOR emergencies and old age. While China has the highest expectancy of state-reliance for retirement, with 40% expecting to lean on government pension plans, additional saving for retirement has just become a way of life, the study said. Chinese do have one major concern about their retirement, however: the cost of caring for their aging parents. More than a quarter of Chinese people in the HSBC study said the prospect of caring for their parents made them anxious. It’s a worry shared by the country’s economic planners. China’s vast population of 1.34 billion is rapidly aging, which means there will be more people retiring in the years to come – and a dwindling supply of workers to support them. People over the age of 60 now account for 13.3% of China’s population, compared to 10.33% in 2000, according to the results of the latest Census data from the National Bureau of Statistics. – Laurie Burkitt. Follow her on Twitter @lburkitt

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The Chinese currency Renminbi, or the yuan, weakened 40 basis points to 6.5038 per U.S. dollar on Tuesday, extending the weakness to the second straight trading days, according to the China Foreign Exchange Trading system. The central parity of the yuan set a new high of 6.4948 per U.S. dollar on May 11. On China’s foreign exchange spot market, the yuan can rise or fall 0.5 percent from the central parity rate each trading day. The central parity rate of the RMB against the U.S. dollar …

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Thailand Business News In his New York magazine article ‘Paper Tigers,’ the Korean-American writer Wesley Yang argues that the Asian parenting model and cultural values mean that Asians will excel in schools, and only in schools: ‘According to a recent study, Asian- Share this Article

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