Getting Rich, But Not Rowdy

Why China's rise could be more peaceful than those of other powers
BY JOSEF JOFFE

Sunday, Apr. 09, 2006

TAKANORI SEKINE—AFP/GETTY IMAGES

Bush and Hu, in Beijing, had reasons to speak softly After Easter, China's president Hu Jintao will visit Washington to huddle with George W. Bush. And well the two of them might, for the Chinese-American relationship will decide the course of our century just as much as the hot wars with Germany and Japan, and the cold war with the Soviet Union, determined the fate of the last one.

Why throw China in with Germany and Japan, two countries that are now as aggressive as pussycats? Because all three exemplify the oldest and meanest problem of world politics: how to deal with rising powers. History has written an iron law about such powers' trajectories: First, they become rich, then rowdy. China is but the latest instance. As states consolidate politically and then take off economically, they begin to claim a "place in the sun," as the future German Reich Chancellor Bernhard von Bülow famously proclaimed in 1897.

With the ravages of the Cultural Revolution behind it, China's economy has been growing at around 10% a year since the turn of the millennium. Its defense budget is expanding at the same clip. It routinely threatens Taiwan with war. It has staked out territorial claims in the South China Sea against lesser neighbors. It demands a seat at the table of the great powers, and it forages insistently for oil and gas around the planet. Beijing is softly signaling Washington: "Move over, the Western Pacific is our lake."

This is a familiar pattern. In the late 19th century, the rapid risers were Germany, Japan and the U.S. itself. Though oceans apart, they embarked on similar careers. The first step was national unification. In Japan, the Meiji Restoration consolidated fragmented, feudal power into a technocratic and imperial state. In Germany, Bismarck fused 25 kingdoms and duchies into the Second Reich. In the U.S., the Civil War ended with the Union restored. Step two was rampant economic growth, with all three overtaking the established powers in the production of iron, steel and energy—those industries that would soon yield guns, bombs and ships. Step three: expansion and war. The Japanese took on Russia, China and, in 1941, the United States. The Germans made two bids for hegemony in World Wars I and II. Though a democracy, the U.S. itself could not resist the lure of empire, grabbing Cuba and the Philippines from Spain in 1898.

Will China go down the same blood-soaked road? The answer depends not only on Beijing, but also on Washington. That is why the Hu-Bush encounter is prime-time world politics. It is a meeting between the No. 1 and the would-be No. 2. While smiling into the cameras, Bush and Hu will continue to play for the highest stakes: a global order for our century that will both contain and accommodate the restless Chinese giant. Bush will have read the intelligence assessments of China's soaring defense outlays; from the newspapers, he already knows that the U.S. trade deficit with China has shot up to $200 billion. Hu will arrive well briefed on the subtle strategic game the U.S. is playing against China. The U.S. has tightened its military bonds with Japan (which now has the world's third largest surface navy); it is forging an alliance with India; and it is expanding its economic presence in Vietnam, its former enemy, while strengthening its traditional ties to Australia and New Zealand.

It would be hard to find a more pure example of balance-of-power politics, but if Bush continues to pull the strings as delicately as the U.S. has done in the recent past, the game won't degenerate into a replay of World Wars I and II. Compared to the previous contenders, both sides have reasons to be cautious. China cannot risk its trade surplus with the U.S., and Washington must speak softly lest Beijing dump its vast reserves on the market, driving down the value of the dollar. The U.S. needs China to constrain North Korea's nuclear ambitions, and China needs the U.S. as a counterweight against a resurgent Russia.

This is why the U.S. and the new claimant to the superpower title have been walking around each other on eggshells. It's power politics, all right, but with swords practically welded into their scabbards. Yes, China is on a trajectory like the one that ended the careers of Imperial Japan and Germany. But history need not repeat itself. There is a resilient web of common interests between the U.S. and China that acts like a straitjacket on their strategic competition. Moreover, there are the lessons of history. Yesterday's would-be supremacists were so reckless because they did not know the price of miscalculation: the eventual obliteration of Berlin and Tokyo. Today, nuclear weapons have increased the price a hundred-fold. The Chinese know it, and so do the Americans. Between the two giants of this century, tempers will flare, but smiles will prevail—at this and the next Hu huddle.

Josef Joffe is publisher-editor of the German weekly Die Zeit and a fellow at Stanford's Hoover Institution. His Überpower: America's Imperial Temptation will be published in June

From TIME Asia Magazine, issue dated

Renewed Faith

As their society becomes more material, growing numbers of Chinese are turning to religion for spiritual fulfilment
BY HANNAH BEECH | SHANGHAI

Monday, Apr. 24, 2006

MARK RALSTON—AFP / GETTY IMAGES

DEVOTED: Hangzhou residents greet a monk visiting the city for the World Buddhist Forum

Everything is for sale on nanjing Road. Shanghai's version of Fifth Avenue offers diamond rings from Tiffany, halter tops from Vivienne Westwood, even fresh sea urchin flown in from northern Japan. One of the most coveted items, however, is a certificate handed out for every 150 yuan ($19) donated for the construction of an $18 million, 2,000-kg gold Buddha at Nanjing Road's Jing'an Temple. The donation certificates are flying off shelves faster than Gucci wallets. Since 2002, the temple has collected 180,700 contributions from people who want to exchange part of their newfound wealth for spiritual sustenance. "Our society is in need of religion," says Cao Pingjiang, the director of the gold-Buddha project. "People are searching for something besides money to worship, and Buddhism has a long history in China."

China's officially atheist Communist Party couldn't agree more. As the country tackles the negative side effects of two decades of unfettered economic growth—most notably a growing urban-rural income divide and burgeoning social unrest—Beijing's leaders are looking to soothe the masses by filling a spiritual vacuum left by the demise of Marxist ideology. In landmark comments earlier this month, China's top religious official, Ye Xiaowen, rejected decades of state ambivalence toward religion by telling the state's Xinhua News Agency that "religion is one of the important social forces from which China draws strength." Ye singled out Buddhism for its "unique role in promoting a harmonious society"—China's catchphrase for promoting social development along with economic expansion. The same week as Ye's comments, the World Buddhist Forum, the first-ever conference on religion in Communist China, convened in the eastern city of Hangzhou.

By allowing—and even condoning—such overt expressions of spirituality, China's leaders are finally catching up with the country's religious revolution. Even by the government's own conservative estimate, China now has more than 200 million worshippers of all faiths, double the number just nine years ago. The inroads made by apocalyptic Christian cults in China's countryside have garnered more international attention, but the larger trend is the renaissance of Buddhism and folk religions, which blend Taoism, Confucianism, shamanism, ancestor reverence and local-deity worship into a potent mix of spirituality. More than half of the nation's believers follow these local faiths. "China's religious traditions are much longer than its Communist past," says Yang Li, an assistant professor of religion at the Chinese University of Hong Kong. "People still remember the old rituals and now they want to practice them again."

For decades, the People's Republic really only had one higher power: Mao Zedong. After the 1949 Communist revolution, Mao declared that religion was a "feudal superstition" with little place in a modern Marxist society. Although five official religions were allowed—Buddhism, Taoism, Islam, Catholicism and Protestantism—they were tightly circumscribed and had to express fealty to the Communist state before any divine entity. During the 1966-76 Cultural Revolution, believers of these watered-down religions were attacked. Red Guards razed thousands of temples, churches and mosques. Shanghai's Jing'an Temple was converted into a flour factory and portraits of the Great Helmsman replaced those of the Buddha.

But as China diluted its socialist purity by embracing economic reforms, religious controls began easing as well. The skylines of Chinese towns now teem with temples, shrines and churches. In Shanghai alone, at least 25 Buddhist temples have been built or renovated since 2000. Other cities are also being transformed. In the seaside town of Quanzhou in Fujian province, where Nestorian Christians and Manicheans practiced their faiths during the Silk Road's heyday, one of the city's oldest clans, the Wangs, built a shrine in the 11th century to honor their family. But the sanctuary was converted into a stable during the Cultural Revolution. Today, it has been rebuilt with more than $100,000 in donations from a vast diaspora of Wangs all over the world, who want a place to venerate their ancestors. "My parents worshipped Chairman Mao," says Su Min, a 31-year-old tourism official who prays twice a month at the Zhenwu Taoist Temple near Quanzhou. "Then we believed in [former Chinese leader] Deng Xiaoping because he brought economic reforms that made our lives better. But now after Deng, we don't have anyone to believe in, so we have turned back to religion."

China's religious freedom is by no means absolute. Seeking personal salvation is fine, but public displays of religiosity outside the confines of state-controlled institutions are not. China's history is filled with religious uprisings against the state, like the millenarian cults that helped usher out China's last imperial dynasty, the Qing. Hence the continuing crackdown against the meditation movement Falun Gong or the raid last month on an unofficial Bible study in central Henan province that was termed "evil cult" activity by the police. In northwestern Xinjiang, where the Chinese government is fighting a separatist movement by the Uighur ethnic group, Muslim activity outside of state mosques is suppressed and offenders sometimes jailed. Nor do Tibetans have free rein to worship the Dalai Lama, who was not invited to the World Buddhist Forum in Hangzhou two weeks ago. The main speaker was the Beijing-appointed Panchen Lama, who in 1995 was named by the Chinese in place of the child monk the Dalai Lama himself had chosen for a key position in the Tibetan Buddhist hierarchy. Even in the new China, it is Beijing—and not any other higher power—that possesses the mandate of heaven.

Nevertheless, the vast majority of Chinese feel little restriction in voicing their growing faith. "My previous goal in life was to earn lots of money," says Zhou Jun, a Shanghai entrepreneur who runs a solar-heating company and converted to Tibetan Buddhism in 2004. "But now after studying Buddhism, I realize there is much more to life, and I want to share that lesson with everyone." Zhou now donates a chunk of his earnings to build new Tibetan Buddhist temples in western China, and has imparted the Buddha's teachings to his business partners. Tempering a capitalist impulse with a quest for inner peace jibes with the Chinese government's own shift from a development model based mainly on high GDP-growth rates to one in which overall quality of life is also taken into consideration.

Equally important is religion's role as a safety net, especially when the government no longer provides free social services for its most impoverished citizens. Buddhist monasteries, which now shelter an estimated 200,000 monks, are reporting an influx of children whose parents feel the cloistered life is the best way to get their kids fed and educated. Others are spending what little money they have to court the gods. On the outskirts of Quanzhou, where locals pick tobacco leaves for a living, poor villagers have banded together to build a shrine to Kwanyin, the goddess of mercy. "We need her help," says farmer Zhou Bigong. "We work hard, but life is getting harder and harder." When Zhou was younger, openly worshiping Kwanyin wasn't allowed. Now, the goddess is back to nourish a whole new generation of devotees.

—With reporting by Bu Hua/Shanghai

From TIME Asia Magazine, issue dated May 1, 2006 Vol. 167, No. 17

Leave the Past Behind

It's time for China and Japan to stop bickering about history
BY BILL POWELL

Monday, Nov. 22, 2004
In the 1970s British comedy series Fawlty Towers—about an innkeeper, his wife and the slightly shabby hotel they run—there was a hilarious episode in which the hotel is expecting its first-ever German guests. Basil, the husband and hotel manager, famously instructs his wife: "Whatever you do, don't say anything about the war.'' But when the guests arrive, it's Basil himself who can't think about anything else. "Milk or lemon with your war, sir?"

Watching China and Japan over the years—I've lived in both countries—is a bit like watching a rerun of this episode, over and over again, with one significant difference: it's not at all funny. They were at it again this month. As Japan tried, justifiably, to get a coherent explanation as to what a Chinese nuclear submarine was doing in its waters off Okinawa, Beijing's ambassador could think of nothing to say, and so initially just hit the rewind button, mentioning Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi's visits to Yasukuni Shrine. Not only did that not go over too well in Tokyo, it left a little to be desired in Southeast Asia, too, where China's rise generates some apprehension.

Start by acknowledging the obvious: Japan brings some of this on itself, with the annual, dreadful pilgrimages to Yasukuni by Koizumi and other leading lights from the ruling Liberal Democratic Party. But it's pretty clear by now that those visits aren't going to stop. In American political terms, this is called playing to your base and, alas, the right wing in Japan is a part—albeit only a small part—of the LDP's base. Unfortunately, nothing China says or does on the matter will change that.

That's why allowing the war to dominate so much of the public discourse between these two governments—obviously the two most important countries in East Asia—has gone beyond mindless. It's destructive. It sucks up, as the saying goes, nearly all the oxygen in the room. And it's no secret that the Japanese—whether diplomats, salarymen working in China or hip twentysomethings hanging in Shibuya—have been thoroughly fed up with it for at least a decade. Their message is simple: The war? It's been over for nearly 60 years. Moreover, as an implicit sign of our guilt, we've paid billions of dollars in overseas-development assistance to China over the years. In fact, the main reason we continue ladling out that kind of cash—to a country that's become an export powerhouse and an economic superpower, with a rising defense budget and a space program to boot—is precisely because of that war guilt. We were already rethinking this (remind us again why we gave China almost $1 billion last year?). Now the submarine fiasco may, thank you very much, put an end to it once and for all.

There is a subtext to the submarine episode that no one should miss. These days the common assumption, worldwide, is that the future belongs to China, and the rest of us are just going to have to get used to it. A huge nation is rising, economically and in every other way, and the other nations of East Asia will just have to sit back (if not genuflect) as Beijing takes its rightful spot at the table's head. It is, after all, a done deal.

Forgive the Japanese. In their quiet, polite and indirect way, they don't buy this quite yet. For all the chatter about China's awakening, it has become too easy to forget that Japan has recently reawakened, finally emerging from its lost decade of deflation and debt. Japan is the world's second-largest economy and still Asia's biggest by far. Further, after decades of inconsequential prattle about it, Japan has, under Koizumi, actually taken steps toward becoming a more "normal" country. It still has a small contingent of troops in Iraq, even after a Japanese civilian was kidnapped and killed there, and the Tokyo press had its predictable nervous breakdown. And though China has long wished it could pry Tokyo from the U.S.'s side, under Koizumi the Japan-U.S. military alliance has never been more robust. Tokyo, moreover, is now looking with a cold eye at greater military spending—spending that is aimed at countering China's growing strength.

Japan, in other words, is not conceding its place in the global pecking order relative to China. Not quite yet, anyway. Last weekend, China's President Hu Jintao met with Koizumi at the APEC meeting in Santiago. Their countries are both benefiting immensely from growing mutual trade and investment. They also compete, with increasing urgency, for energy supplies offshore in East Asia, in Russia and the Middle East, and just about anywhere else that hydrocarbons are or may be found. Whatever they discussed in Santiago, in the coming months they need to talk about Taiwan and in particular about North Korea—specifically, about whether there's anything they can do to get Washington to agree with them on the best way to defuse Pyongyang's nuclear program. And that's just for starters. All of which is to say: Gents, seriously, here's hoping that whenever and wherever you meet, you do yourselves and everyone else a favor—and don't just talk about the war.

From TIME Asia Magazine, issue dated November 29, 2004 / Vol. 164, No. 22

Respect and Resentment

Monday, Nov. 22, 2004

Japan is becoming impatient with demands that it should constantly apologize for what happened more than 60 years ago
BY JIM FREDERICK | TOKYO

KATSUMI KASAHARA / AP

HONOR Koizumi's regular trips to the Yasukuni Shrine feed anti-Japanese sentiment abroad

It's nine o'clock on a Thursday night, and six friends from Tokyo's Keio University are sharing a few beers and many plates of Okinawan-style food at a bar in the Azabu-Juban neighborhood. They are all currently students in Professor Ryosei Kokubun's seminar on modern Chinese politics, so the conversation is focused, as it often is, on the complex relationship between Japan and its giant neighbor to the west.

Yuji Hashiguchi, 21, says that when growing up, he was profoundly influenced by the beauty of classical Chinese literature and captivated by the stories his grandmother would tell of the time she spent in China before and during World War II, when his grandfather worked for a firm associated with the South Manchurian Railway Co. Hashiguchi knows all about the atrocities committed in China by Japan during that period, but he has always been inspired by his grandmother's love for the country and its people. "My grandmother told me the Chinese were always very nice to them," he says. "When there wasn't enough food, the Chinese shared with them the little that they had." He strikes the most conciliatory note among the group, decrying Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi's visits to the Yasukuni Shrine. Hashiguchi says that better relations between the two countries are not just possible, but with a little work, highly likely. "Most people in China have goodwill toward the Japanese," he says. "But the Chinese are a very proud people, and the Japanese scarred their pride by invading. We need to be sensitive about that."

It's a nice sentiment, but it isn't universally shared. Hashiguchi's classmate Kenji Sato, 21, allows that the Chinese individually may be wonderful people, but thinks that the two countries' attitudes toward each other make them virtually destined for friction. And he is skeptical that political tensions are going to ease anytime soon, because he believes the very foundation of Chinese identity is now tied to being anti-Japanese. "I think that even if the Communist Party loses power, the next regime will still remain anti-Japan," he declares.

Hashiguchi and Sato—and their equally well-educated, opinionated friends—are a microcosm of Japan's younger generation and the highly conflicted, often contradictory attitudes it harbors toward China. Nearly 60 years after the end of World War II, Japanese youth are witnessing what they believe is a dramatic shift in power, as the political and economic momentum (to say nothing of military might) in Asia swings inexorably from Tokyo to Beijing. Yet even as they acknowledge that China is the ascendant force of the 21st century, many resent what they describe as China's insistence that they answer for issues they believe should long have been consigned to history.

True, within Japan there is no certain consensus on attitudes to China. Some agree that Japan has never properly atoned for its brutal occupation of much of Asia, but others are exasperated with what they see as Beijing's cynical leveraging of the issue for political and economic gain. For all those who do not support Koizumi's regular visits to the Yasukuni Shrine, there are others who dislike what they see as China's gall in presuming to tell Japan's Prime Minister what he can do in his own country. Some argue against a revision of Japan's pacifist constitution; others become apoplectic at Chinese accusations that "militarism" is on the rise in democratic, nuclear weapon-free Japan, when China is estimated to outspend Japan on defense by up to $20 billion a year. Many acknowledge that the Japanese school system has a tendency to whitewash unsavory events in history, but other Japanese have begun to look with anxiety at China's "patriotic education" program. These issues go beyond college bull sessions. They reach up to the very highest levels of both governments. Increasingly, say analysts, the two great powers of Asia are missing the chance to determine how they plan to coexist in this new century.

While the Chinese and Japanese media whirl into a frenzy over everything from stray Chinese submarines in Japanese waters to stray Japanese sex tourists in China, one issue has become an emblem of impasse: Koizumi's visits to the Yasukuni Shrine. He has gone there four times in three-and-a-half years of his term, and each time China's government has expressed its dismay, calling the trips a hurtful homage to Japan's warmongering past. Japan has grown impatient with what it considers to be China's pathological nurturing of remote grievances. China, on the other hand, is infuriated by what it sees as Japan's haste to bury unexamined history. "The two sides have locked themselves into a position where they cannot bridge the gap," says Jeffrey Kingston, a professor of history at Temple University's Tokyo campus.

From the Japanese point of view, they have been talking into a void for years. Although Japan may not have reached out as contritely to its former enemies as Germany did following World War II, many Japanese insist that the dawn of the cold war, when Communist China and half of the Korean peninsula became its enemies again, constrained any attempts at coziness. Others maintain that Japan has apologized to China publicly and often, including Emperor Akihito's expression of "sadness" at a Chinese state dinner in 1992 for "an unfortunate period in which my country inflicted great suffering on the people of China." Younger Japanese freely and loudly claim they bear no responsibility for the sins of their fathers (if not grandfathers and great-grandfathers). Hiroshi Kaga, 22, an art student in Tokyo, says, "The war is very over. It has nothing to do with me or my generation, or even my parents' generation. What am I supposed to say about it? Apologize to the Chinese people for what happened 60 years ago? I think that's even more insulting."

It's not that Japan is free of radical nationalism. For every sincere expression of contrition for Japan's conduct in World War II, there have always been a headband-wearing revisionist or a bigoted old-boy politician ready to declare that the Nanjing Massacre never happened or that Korean comfort women were "volunteers." But in modern Japanese society, such voices are of increasingly marginalized fringe elements. Nowadays, Japan can debate issues like the role of its flag, the national anthem, the Emperor and the constitution in a way that it could not do so even 10 years ago. "Japan is at a shifting point," says Koji Murata, an assistant professor of diplomatic history at Doshisha University in Kyoto. "Changes both in Japan and global politics, as well as the flood of information, have made Japanese more practical and pushed them to re-examine their world in a different light."

For businessmen, anti-Japanese sentiment in China is particularly vexing. China trades more with Japan than with any other nation, and only Japan's trade with the U.S. is greater than that with China. But managers and investors fear that if things are left unchecked, what should be a solid and important economic partnership will be derailed. Japan's Nikkei Weekly business newspaper recently launched a special series called "Dark Clouds over China." Its first installment was headlined, "Anti-Japanese Sentiment Sours Business." Inside was chronicled the tale of a business boycott organized against Canon for launching a new digital camera in Japan on Sept. 18, the 73rd anniversary of the Mukden Incident, a railroad bombing Japan used as a justification for annexing Manchuria. (Canon pointed out that it releases more than 100 products a year, that the date was pure coincidence, and that the camera was not even introduced in the China market.) Masaki Yabuuchi, a senior analyst at the Japan External Trade Organization, says many Chinese consumers still believe that Japan sells its best goods domestically and passes off the shoddy stuff to China. Such conspiracy-laden complaints gain a following in China via the Internet, and eventually migrate to the general public. Yabuuchi says anti-Japanese sentiment in China is encouraged by senior Party officials, taught by teachers and internalized by students. "Ever since the 'patriotic education' campaign started, Chinese feelings toward Japan have worsened dramatically," he says.

Even if Sino-Japanese relations are at their lowest point in years, powerful forces on both sides of the Sea of Japan are rallying to ensure they do not deteriorate further. In October 2003, 15 academic, business and media leaders came together to relaunch the 21st Century Committee for Japan-China Friendship, a bilateral advisory board designed to promote dialogue and understanding. Co-chaired by Fuji Xerox chairman Yotaro Kobayashi and Zheng Bijian, the head of the China Reform Forum, a think tank, the group has held two meetings so far during which it discussed strategies for resolving historical grudges and increasing trust. Halfway across the globe, a foundation based at the University of Montana honoring former U.S. ambassador to Japan Mike Mansfield and his wife Maureen runs periodic three-day retreats that bring together six young people of influence from each country to discuss the two nations' different approaches to history and ways to overcome their persistent obstacles. Through repeated gatherings like these at every level of society, including more high school exchange programs, Japan and China have a genuine opportunity to build mutual understanding, say many experts.

But for those Japanese not involved in such exercises, incidents like the harassment of Japanese soccer fans at this year's Asian Cup final in Beijing carry more weight. Says Keio University student Sanae Takasugi, 21: "It came as a shock that anti-Japanese feelings in China could be so strong and massive. Whatever unfriendly feelings the Japanese may hold against the Chinese are completely different in scale compared with that of the Chinese. I think that caught the Japanese off guard." Shingo Nishida, 22, traveled to China to watch the Japanese team's games. He describes with a mixture of disbelief and sadness how he and his compatriots were booed and heckled every time the Japanese side played. "They were yelling, throwing their food and drinks at the Japanese fans," he says. "It wasn't a simple show of hostility. It was more complex than that. Was it Japan? Was it the heat of the moment? Was it soccer? I was there and I still don't know." And then he sums up perhaps the essence of young Japanese's feelings about China. "We need to stay respectful to the feelings of the Chinese, but I can't apologize for what happened. Instead of being tied to the past, why can't we start from the present and look ahead? Let it go."

With reporting by Hanna Kite and Toko Sekiguchi/Tokyo

From TIME Asia Magazine, issue dated November 29, 2004 / Vol. 164, No. 22

Asia’s Odd Couple

Monday, Nov. 22, 2004

The region's future depends on whether China and Japan can get along. Are the countries' leaders up to the task?
BY HANNAH BEECH

For centuries, Japan was a tribute state of mighty china. But in A.D. 607, Japan's Prince Shotoku sent to Sui dynasty China an emissary, who startled his hosts by addressing the Chinese Emperor as an equal. We come from the land "where the sun rises," announced the Japanese ambassador, while referring to China as the land "where the sun sets." Countless sunrises and sunsets later, Asia is still caught between the orbits of its two great powers, each one now imbued with a renewed sense of confidence about its position in the world.

Last weekend, Hu Jintao, President of the world's presumptive superpower, and Junichiro Koizumi, Prime Minister of the world's second-largest economy, met at the APEC summit in Chile. Tensions between the two nations had boiled up after a Chinese nuclear submarine veered into Japanese waters for several days starting on Nov. 10. Japan immediately lodged a formal complaint with China, but Beijing remained silent. Finally, Tokyo said it received a brief expression of "regret" from China, instead of the more wholehearted apology Japan surely wanted.

The Santiago summit was a rare meeting between the current leaders of Asia's two powers. Despite a year filled with flash points—ranging from disputes over the ownership of a sprinkling of islands in the East China Sea to the heckling of Japanese fans at an August soccer match in Beijing—neither Hu nor Koizumi has made reciprocal visits to the other's nation. Because of his repeated trips to Tokyo's Yasukuni Shrine, where several of Japan's most notorious World War II criminals are honored, Koizumi has been unwelcome in Beijing. Hu has found time to tour Gabon and Algeria but has yet to visit Tokyo.

Economically, the two nations have never been closer. Japan is China's largest trading partner, while only the U.S. trades more with Japan than China does. But politically, the Asian heavyweights are barely talking. Nowhere are attitudes more alarming than among the nations' youth. In China, many young people, primed by years of "patriotic education," feel their island neighbor hasn't done enough soul searching over its brutal war record. In Japan, youngsters are tired of apologizing for what their grandfathers did, and some are calling for their country to emerge from its pacifist shell.

Asia's century—the world's, too—will surely be partly shaped by how the two great East Asian powers get along. It's not too late for Chinese and Japanese politicians to follow the example of many of their business leaders, who have long understood that the interpenetration of the two economies works to the benefit of all. If the Chinese and Japanese political classes fail to live up to the challenge, muscular nationalism will gain strength among those who will one day lead Asia. We may all then find that the path the sun travels has become far more perilous than Prince Shotoku or the Sui Emperor ever imagined.

From TIME Asia Magazine, issue dated November 29, 2004 / Vol. 164, No. 22

日本僧人在武汉中山舰为侵华战争谢罪

2006/04/27 from: www.ebud.cn

４月２５日，一位名叫岩田隆造的７０岁日本僧人，来到中山舰和石门峰武汉抗战纪念园，对日本在侵华战争中犯下的罪行“谢罪”。

岩田隆造生于１９３６年，是日本山妙法寺僧人。２００５年，岩田隆造开始了第一次“谢罪”之旅，到达了北京、天津、南京和上海。今年，岩田隆造首站抵达上海，然后来到武汉，接下来还有重庆、西安等地，走遍大半个中国再次“谢罪”。图为他在中山舰上行谢罪之仪。

 

無窮動 Perpetual Motion 2006

《无穷动》洪晃、刘索拉、宁瀛

影片名：无穷动
导演/编剧/剪辑：宁瀛
联合编剧：刘索拉、洪晃
主演： 洪晃 　出演： 妞妞
李勤勤 出演： 亲亲
刘索拉 出演： 拉拉
平燕妮 出演： 夜太太
地区：中国
类型：剧情
上映：2006年3月2日
官网：http://www.ningying-films.com

先申明想在这部电影中看美女的，你肯定会失望，或者你干脆就不要看着个电影。

但此片，从演员上看主演除李勤勤是最近正在走红的著名影视演员以外，其他均由社会名流出演。

影片主演是著名媒体人、出版人，刚刚引发“馒头血案”的中国大导演陈凯歌的前妻洪晃，著名现代派作家和音乐作曲演唱家刘索拉。中国七十年代著名的外交家章含之女士也特邀出演。

导演则是被称之为中国最优秀的女导演，在国外以及业界都是响当当的人物。

从题材来说将中国传统女性的女性形象砸得粉碎，展现了当今中国女性视角。

综合这几个方面，影片将无疑成为社会关注的热点。

这是四个成功女人的情感故事。整部电影都以四个女人在一个四合院里的聊天为内容。

时尚杂志出版商妞妞发现丈夫有外遇突然离家出走，于是请三个最值得怀疑的女友到家里过春节。先后到来的有年轻浪漫的时装模特亲亲，房地产经销商夜太太和才貌双全的艺术家拉拉。妞妞知道她们三个都在不同层次上与丈夫有过情感瓜葛。

随着女友们的故事逐渐展开，每个人不得不面对真实的自我。她们因为同一个男人 ，互相成为朋友又互相背叛。在她们成功自信的外表下，是那些过去年代遗留下来的不可拟补的情感欠疚，是那些内心深处无穷动的欲望体验。

演员：

洪晃（扮演：妞妞）

著名媒体人,出版人,广播、电视主持人。著有自传体畅销小说”我的非正常生活”。 中国互动媒体集团的总裁，该公司出版的刊物有《世界都市》、《青春一族》和《名牌世界》。被评为2004年亚洲最著名的四个媒体人之一,是大陆唯一入选人。该片是她第一次参加电影表演。

刘索拉（扮演：拉拉。同时任本片作曲及演唱）

著 名作家、音乐家。生于北京。毕业于中央音乐学院作曲系。1988年至1993年前后移居伦敦与纽约，2003年后回北京。主要文学作品有：《你别无选 择》、《蓝天绿海》、《行走的刘索拉》、《语音画》《女贞汤》等等。主要音乐作品：《形飞形1&2》、《缠》、《六月雪》、《中国拼贴》、《兰调 在东方》、《春雪图》等等。

她的文学作品被译为多种外文。曾获中国中篇小说奖等文学奖和英美世界音乐排行榜前十名等音乐。自1997年， 成立由国内外精英音乐家参与的“刘索拉与友人”乐队，并在世界各大音乐节演出。现任德国世界文化议院的国际顾问成员。新现代舞蹈音乐作品《觉-基因》于 2004年6月在柏林首演。该片是她第一次参加电影表演。

章含之（扮演：张妈妈）

70年代中国杰出的外交官之一，参与了中美建交会谈、尼克松访华、上海公报谈判等一系列重大活动。她同丈夫乔冠华(中国前外交部长)一起，曾活跃在联合国外交舞台上。也是洪晃的母亲，该片是她第一次参加电影表演。

李勤勤（扮演：琴琴）

主演过电影“北京故事”,”卡拉是条狗”等多部影视作品.是当今中国最活跃的影视演员之一.

平燕妮（扮演：夜太太）

主从事国际商务顾问。第一次参加电影表演。

一个女导演拍摄的女人的故事。四个女主演包括导演宁瀛有着一些明显的共同点：她们都是改革开放以后留洋归来的海龟派，同时她们也是近几年在影视、文化、大众传媒和经济领域均获得社会承认的成功女人。

影片人物极具个性，语言幽默生动，演员表演催人泪下。传统概念中＂柔弱、顺从、压抑＂的东方女性形象被这部影片砸得粉碎。

影射前夫陈凯歌？洪晃劝观众别“对号入座”

片中“老公”这一角色自始至终并未出场，而洪晃夹枪带棒的冷嘲热讽很容易对号入座，“刚开始认识他那会儿，丫还算一前卫艺术家，现在，早就成了主流啦。”这样的品评让人直接联想到她现实生活中的前夫???大导演陈凯歌，不知影片公映后，陈导看到前妻的“表演”会作何感受。

洪晃在接受采访时表示：“其实演员是导演的工具，这部电影里更多是导演的意图，如果让我来讲，我劝观众千万别‘对号入座’，起码那个前卫艺术家不是陈凯歌。

我在电影里面扮演的妞妞是七拼八凑而成，所经历的故事没有影子又是不可能的，其实所有的表演都在告诉大家，我是最怕成为里面那个怨妇的，简单地讲吧，我要是不跟陈凯歌离婚，八成就成《无穷动》里面的怨妇了”。

评论声音：

正面：

记得去年看过一期陈凯歌作客的《艺术人生》，里面有一个场景我印象很深，主持人朱军问了他一个问题，在他心目中好电影的标准是什么，凯歌的回答只有两个字："真诚"，现在回想起来，有点悲哀，因为《无极》整个故事恰恰缺少的就是这份真诚！
所以《无穷动》虽然看得断断续续，但我依然被宁瀛作品里四个中年女人的内心困苦所触动，依然被影片中洪晃满嘴糙话地回忆起自己和那个已有外遇的作家丈夫当年"第一次上床"的难忘经历所感动。

宁瀛的影片永远不会令人失望，就像生活本身，可能残酷、可能恶心、可能有片刻的温馨和永远的寒冷，但不管怎么样，生活令人眼花缭乱、目不暇接。

反面：

但对于大多数男观众来看都把这部电影当成恐怖片，很多人都抱怨：这女人老了，可真够可怕的。四个中年女人没有化妆修饰，而且脸部被拉伸放大，缺点暴露无遗。

最可怕的是吃鸡爪的那段，四个变了形放大了的女人嘴，血盆大口卖力地撕着、嘬着、嚼着，而且这段镜头还很长，很多观众都露出难以忍受的表情，还有人以哈哈大笑来掩盖尴尬。

在这部电影里，女人变得尖刻、讨厌、放肆、不顾脸面，她们的谈话中充满了女性的自嘲，对男人的讽刺，毫不留情。

说白了就是女导演宁瀛和一堆女友的一场自娱自乐。

手球歌

丸 竹 夷 二 押 御池 丸 竹 夷 二 押 御池
まる たけ えびす に おし おいけ
ma ru ta ke e bi su ni o shi o i ke
姉 三 六角 蛸 锦 姐 三 六角 蛸 锦
あね さん ろっかく たこ にしき
a ne sa n roっ ka ku ta ko ni shi ki
四 绫 仏 高 松 万 五条 四 绫 佛 高 松 万 五条
し あや ぶっ たか まつ まん ごじょう
shi a ya buっ ta ka ma tsu ma n go jo ji
雪駄 丁当 鱼の棚 行囊 钱 声 鱼之棚
せった ちゃらちゃら うおのたな
se ta cha chi cha chi u o no ta na
六条 七条 通过了六条七条
ろくじょう ひっちょう とおりすぎ
ro ku jo jia hiっ cho chia to o ri su gi
八条肥 东寺道 过了八条就是东寺路
はちじょうこえれば とうじみち
ha chi jo ji ko e re ba to u ji mi chi
九条大路 九条大路连成片
くじょうおおじで とどめさす
ku jo ji o o ji de to do me sa su

所罗门逃难港人抵达香港 感觉高兴及安心

星岛环球网 www.singtaonet.com 时间：2006-04-25 GMT

【星岛网讯】从所罗门群岛撤走的41名港人与家属，联同三百多名华侨，乘包机由巴布亚新几内亚起飞，25日凌晨零时三十分抵广州（见图），香港政府驻粤办人员、国务院督导小组及广东省侨务办公室人员，到广州白云机场接机，当中港人获安排入住花都市内酒店一晚，25日下午约3时乘坐旅游巴经黄岗口岸返抵香港，民政署及社会福利署派人在场迎接。据香港《星岛日报》报道，入境处助理处长（管制）赵伟佳表示，已有37名港人及家属经落马洲返抵香港，其中18人只持有所罗门群岛护照，需要签证，香港政府会酌情让他们在香港停留九十日，之后再决定去向。另外两人暂时留在内地，自行安排返港。 而每个家庭都获港府发放八千元紧急援助，由于全部人都获家人及朋友协助住宿，所以毋须入住鲤鱼门渡假村。社会福利署也会提供心理辅导，及帮小朋友安排读书。 在所罗门群岛住了十年的胡小姐表示，感谢香港政府提供的安排及协助，希望返港后能与家人团聚，而现时只能寄居在母亲的家。另一名港人吴先生表示，回到香港感到高兴及安心，但由于儿子仍留在所罗门群岛，他会待当地局势稳定后，返回所罗门群岛了解当地情况。 连家属共37人回港 　　港府保安局局长李少光表示，该批持香港身份证的22名港人，连同他们的家属共41人，但当中两人选择留在巴布亚新几内亚，另外两人留在广州。 撤离的港人及家属，联同其他华侨合共约三百五十人，于24日傍晚在巴布亚新几内亚乘搭中国南方航空公司一架编号CZ556的波音客机飞往广州， 并于25日凌晨零时三十分抵达广州白云机场，港府驻粤办主任梁百忍在场接机，为港人提供协助，而国务院一个督导小组及广东省侨务办公室人员，亦到机场协 助，准备了热饮品及二十多架轮椅，供长者或有需要人士使用。 包机抵达机场后，外交部领事司副司长朱桃英、广东省副省长汤炳权等官员，随即登机迎接，送上鲜花，表达慰问。朱桃英致欢迎辞时强调，中央重视保 护包括港澳台同胞在内的中国公民，在海外的合法权益，所罗门群岛骚乱后，国家领导人关心侨胞安全，外交部遵照中央及国务院要求租机撤走侨胞。 汤炳权则表示，欢迎侨胞平安归来，国家及广东省领导牵挂他们的安危，并密切注视事态发展，希望侨胞回归后好好休息及生活，相信在中央及各级政府协助下，侨胞遇到的困难可以解决。 机场特别为这批港人及华侨设立专用柜台，办理入境手续，由于大部分港人及部分华侨没有中国的入境证件，要由有关人员协助，办理入境手续需时。 部分逃难港人冀获居留权 港府驻粤办主任梁百忍也到机场接机，在所罗门群岛经营杂货铺的港人张先生表示，由于店铺不在唐人街，并没有受到破坏，部分华人也曾到他的店铺暂避，由于当地局势恶化，感觉警察未能保护他们，所以决定离开，若局势恢复稳定，一定返回当地继续经营生意。 张先生形容在所罗门的处境是“在这里一日，便惊惶一日，直至上了飞机，内心才稍为安定下来”。另有港人认为，这次尚算有惊无险，没有遭到袭击。 也有港人指，当地家园及店铺遭破坏，损失两百至三百万港元，但事件令她明白家庭的重要，希望特区政府酌情给予持所罗门群岛护照的丈夫居留权，以便一家定居香港。一名姓陈女子则带同两名年幼妹妹撤离，由于父母仍留在所罗门，因此回港办理证件后，考虑返回当地重建家园。 　　该批港人及家属虽然凌晨才抵达广州，但是部分人因时差关系，早上七八时已起床在酒店吃早餐。港府官员大约于上午11时安排全部人用午膳，之后在入境处职员陪同下，乘坐旅游巴经皇岗返港，下午3时许抵港。 广东省侨务办公室预早安排一辆旅游巴等候，车上贴着“香港居民集合点”及“所罗门回国华侨接待工作专车”字样的纸张。据李姓司机称，他奉派到来接载港人往花都市云峰酒店，他盛赞中国政府办事水平已达国际标准，懂得第一时间撤侨。 几十载经营被掠一空 所罗门群岛爆发针对华人的暴乱，暴徒大肆劫掠，令当地华人的经济损失超过一千万美元，许多华侨及港人几十年经营积累的财产，一夜间被抢掠一空，中国政府已派遣至少四架飞机撤侨。 所罗门群岛在军警严密戒备下，新一届国会议员正式宣誓就职，警方逮捕两名涉嫌煽动骚乱的反对派议员，但反对派议员警告政府此举可能引发更大规模骚乱，他们计划在26日的国会会议上，向新任总理里尼提不信任动议。（左下图为所罗门局势仍然紧张，警方和维和人员全副武装戒备）

网络操作者养颜秘诀

作者: dingyang 发布日期: 2006-4-05 查看数: 150 出自: http://www.37tcm.net/bbs

　　皮肤护理是女性美容的头等大事。可是对于众多喜欢泡网的年轻女性来说，计算机对面部皮肤的伤害无疑是个让人无奈的事情。今日已是网络的世界，上网的女性网民越来越多，时间也越来越长。在国外，妇女上网人数已首次超过男子成为主力军。然而，在你快乐地与网络亲密接触的过程中，你可知道如何尽量减轻电磁辐射对容颜潜在的伤害？

　　1、面部防护

　　上网对女性网民容颜的伤害虽非大敌，

　　但厉害的电磁辐射还是不容小觑。调查中，一女性网民说：“我原本肤质很好，白白嫩嫩，也没什么斑点。最近上网时间较长，有时候连上7至9小时。这几天觉得皮肤干燥、脱皮，而且颜色偏黄。”对于既不想放弃上网，又想保持皮肤亮丽的女性网民来说，这已经成为一个突出问题。屏幕辐射产生静电，最易吸附灰尘，长时间面对面，更容易导致斑点与皱纹。因此，上网前不妨涂上护肤乳液，再加一层淡粉，以增加皮肤的抵抗力。

　　2、彻底洁肤

　　上网结束后，第一项任务就是洁肤，用温水加上洁面液彻底清洗面庞，将静电吸附的尘垢通通洗掉，然后涂上温和的护肤品，久之可减少伤害，润肤养颜，这对上网的女性而言真可谓点滴功夫，收获多多。

　　养护明眸如果你不希望第二天见人时双目红肿，面容憔悴，一副黑眼圈，那么切勿长时间连续作战，尤其不要熬夜上网。平时准备一瓶滴眼液，以备不时之需。上网之后敷一片黄瓜片、土豆片或冻奶、凉茶也不错。方法是：将黄瓜或土豆切片，敷在双眼皮上，闭眼养神几分钟；或将冻奶凉茶用纱布浸湿敷眼，可缓解眼部疲劳，营养眼周皮肤。

　　3、增加营养

　　对经常上网的人，增加营养很重要。维他命B对脑力劳动者很有益，如果睡得晚，睡觉的质量也不好，应多吃动物肝脏、新鲜果蔬，它们含有丰富的维他命B族物质。此外，肉类、鱼类、奶制品也有助于增加记忆力；巧克力、小麦面圈、海产品、干果可以增强神经系统的协调性，是上网时的最佳小零食。不定时地喝些枸杞汁和胡萝卜汁，对养目、护肤功效也很显著。如果你十分在意自己的容貌，那就饮胡萝卜汁或新鲜果汁吧。

　　4、常做体操消除疲劳

　　长时间上网，你可能会感到头晕、手指僵硬、腰背酸痛，甚至出现下肢水肿、静脉曲张。所以，平时要多做体操，以保持旺盛精力。如睡前平躺在床上，全身放松，将头仰放在床沿以下，缓解用脑后大脑供血供氧的不足；垫高双足，平躺在床上或沙发上，以减轻双足的水肿，并帮助血液回流，预防下肢静脉曲张；在上网过程中时不时伸伸懒腰，舒展筋骨或仰靠在椅子上，双手用力向后，以伸展紧张疲惫的腰肌；还可做抖手指运动，这是完全放松手指的最简单方法。记住，此类体操运动量不大，但远比睡个懒觉来得效果显著。