Imagethief

  • Foxconn shoots themselves, Apple in foot

    Note: This post consolidates three original posts on this topic that were published on consecutive days. It was also cross-posted on my CNET blog, published in 2006 and 2007.

    Part One: Foxconn shoots themselves, Apple in foot

    You may recall Foxconn, AKA Honhai Precision Manufacturing, as the company at the center of a recent PR crisis for Apple Computer, when a British newspaper published reports that they were mistreating the workforce responsible for assembling luscious (and expensive) iPods. In the last few days Apple, ever image conscious, got round to publishing their own report on the situation, and it has largely faded from the public consciousness.

    But Apple isn’t the only company that was left scrambling to protect its reputation in the wake of the scandal. Foxconn too felt hard-done by, and is taking steps to assert itself. Unfortunately, rather than take constructive steps to reassure the international companies who’s own brands are propped on Foxconn’s labor practices, Foxconn has instead decided to make an example of two Chinese journalists. This looks like a move that has the potential for mighty backlash.

    China’s English Language Shanghai Daily broke the story in the mainstream. Here it is reprinted by Xinhua:

    BEIJING, Aug. 29 (Xinhua) – A Chinese court has frozen the personal assets of a reporter and an editor at a Shanghai newspaper after Apple iPod manufacturer Foxconn sued the pair for 30 million yuan (US$3.77 million) for allegedly damaging its reputation over reports of substandard work conditions.

    Foxconn’s subsidiary in Shenzhen reportedly petitioned the city’s Intermediate People’s Court on July 10 to freeze the property of Wang You, a reporter for China Business News, and Weng Bao, an editor at the newspaper. The locked-up assets include apartments, a car and bank accounts.

    The company also filed a lawsuit against the journalists, seeking 20 million yuan from Wang and 10 million yuan from Weng. The case is the biggest of its kind on the Chinese mainland in terms of the size of the compensation claim.

    I am not the only one who sees Foxconn’s response as being perhaps a bit disproportionate. Sentiment seems to be gathering that the lawsuit is a blatant press intimidation tactic rather than a dispassionate seeking of legal redress. Two excellent English language China blogs have taken Foxconn to task. Non Violent Resistance writes, in a post scathingly titled “FoxConn is not dumb, but downright vicious“:

    Words in the Chinese press circles are, that FoxConn, therefore Hon Hai, had deliberately picked the two journalists from China Business News to sue in a painstaking plot to harrass and intimidate media outlets and journalists. After all, China Business News was not the only newspaper that doggedly followed the iPod sweatshop story. It seems that FoxConn, before launching the much criticized lawsuit, had also considered targeting 21st Century Economic Herald, another popular business newspaper who had similarly covered the story. But FoxConn’s lawyers, after much investigation, found out that the 21st Century reporters who were involved in reporting the story had solid, formal employment contracts with the paper — therefore, unlikely to be held as legitimate defendants in a court.

    Roland Soong, of EastSouthWestNorth, writes:

    If I can make this case very simple.  This is not a question of whether the First Financial Reporter was right or wrong in his reports.  Either way, FoxConn is entitled to file a civil libel suit against the newspaper, which employs that reporter and his editor.  But since when does a civil libel suit involve freezing the assets of the reporter and the editor, including their bank savings accounts, stock holdings, homes and automobiles, to the tune of 10 million RMB for the editor and 20 million RMB for the reproter?  As the reporter noted, this amount is many more times than that which he can ever expect to make in his lifetime.  By comparison, how would the western media react if a prominent American newscaster such as Katie Couric were sued by a large corporation and have all her personal assets frozen for the duration of the legal proceedings?  The Chinese media workers are of the opinion that if this case were allowed to go through, it will be the end of any coverage of the doings of large corporations.

    More good information from Roland here.

    I can see the thought forming in your head. Dude, it’s China. Press intimidation? So what else is new? But it isn’t quite that simple. Yes, the press in China doesn’t operate with the same freedom that is does in the west, especially when it comes to political reporting. But what the government can get away with in the name of social harmony and what a Taiwanese corporation –even a connected one– can get away with are not the same.

    So what might the PR implications be? Well, the story is now being picked up by various foreign media, including specialized voices such as China CSR, and wire services like AFX,AFP (here on the International Herald Tribune) and Reuters, whose headline suggests that, despite what Non Violent Resistance fears, the newspaper will vigorously defend its journalists. Reuters has actually bothered to get out and do some reportage, and their story includes a quote from one of the sued journalists and a quote lifted from a party-managed Chinese newspaper’s editorial, and written apparently without irony:

    “(The case) has sent a dangerous signal to society, and means legal procedures could be used to suppress freedom of speech,” said an editorial in the official China Youth Daily.

    How about that. If China Youth Daily is complaining that you’re infringing freedom of speech, you have a problem. But journalists –even at official news organizations– will look after their own. Superb China media blog Danwei thinks the story has all the right ingredients to keep titillating western editors (and I agree). The China blogosphere is also gathering heat. Yesterday mega-portal Sina, smelling a juicy story, set up a blog for the two journalists, and the posts are attracting lots of comments and lots of readers. The momentum may not last, but its got off to a good start. The net result is that Foxconn is committing one of the great PR sins by busily making itself look worse than the people it is angry at ever did. And there is no damage worse than self-inflicted damage, which suggests stupidity.
    So if you’re Apple what do you think of this? Remember, this incident is descended from an Apple-related story, and MacWorld UK has also picked up the lawsuit story, so it’s creeping close to Apple’s own brand. The whole thing has now gone beyond simple libel lawsuit and in just 48 hours has spiraled into something nasty with a real whiff of media intimidation about it. Reputation damaging questions are also being asked about Foxconn’s relationship with the Shenzhen government and courts. Chinese press isrubbishing the case. Well, if I’m Apple (or their PR guy), the last thing I need is for the contract manufacturer who just gave me a mighty PR headache to give me another mighty PR headache just ten days after I’ve put the last one to bed (Apple’s report was released August 17). Despite their own recent, poorly thought out lawsuits, media intimidation is not something that resonates well with Apple’s cerebral, trendy brand. If I was Apple I’d be gently suggesting that Foxconn back off if they want to keep my business.

    But, hey, that’s just me, and I’m a nice guy who likes reporters, even though I do bug them with pitch calls from time to time.

    Part two: What was Foxconn thinking?

    Originally published August 30, 2006.

    Every now and then, Roland [Soong, of EastSouthNorthWest] dangles a PR question in front of me and, like a shark rising predictably to the bait, I pretty much always go for it. In yesterday’s post [above] about Foxconn’s fit of PR self destruction, Roland asked in a comment:

    What is the matter with FoxConn? Why is this “no comment” thing? Keeping their fingers crossed and hoping that it will all go away? Can you guess what is going on?

    Well, I am happy to guess. But I’d like to remind all readers that this is nothing more than speculation, innuendo and hypothesis. Of course, that’s never stopped me before.

    From a PR point of view, there are a few things going on here: the original foreign and Chinese newspaper reports about Foxconn’s labor practices, the subsequent lawsuit filed against two Chinese journalists, and the current (entirely predictable) coverage explosion over the lawsuit and refusal of Foxconn to comment. This would be a complex situation for any company to manage from a PR point of view. But it’s going to be even harder for Foxconn. I am going to make a sweeping generalization here: Chinese companies (including Taiwanese ones – please keep your “one China” screeds to yourself) by and large don’t “get” PR. As an old China hand friend of mine said, “They don’t understand PR. They understand face.” Well, just like face can get you into a fistfight that never needed to happen, it can also get you into a PR disaster that never needed to happen. But I think the Foxconn situation runs deeper than simple face.

    Putting the problems of Chinese companies with PR somewhat more scientifically, many of them are just learning what PR is and how to use it. As a Taiwanese company and contract manufacturer, Foxconn evolved in a somewhat more developed media market than mainland companies. It has also been around for more than thirty years, although its internationalization in earnest started in 1993. But as a contract manufacturer –and not, say, a consumer brand– Foxconn may also think that it is insulated from certain kinds of PR problems. This may have been true once, but today, when the bloom is off the outsourcing and contract manufacturing rose, and MNCs are under increasing scrutiny for the behavior of their partners, this is not the case. That lesson should have been made painfully apparent in the original Apple scandal of a couple months ago.

    But there is another complexity operating here: this isn’t just a PR crisis (yes, its an official crisis now). It’s a legal PR crisis. And legal situations are always particularly difficult. With all due respect to my good friends at China Law Blog (who may wish to comment upon some of the legal aspects of this case), lawyers and PR people often rub along poorly. A sound legal approach and a sound PR approach to a given situation do not always agree. I am perhaps nursing a bit of resentment here. Put a CEO, a head of PR and a general counsel in a lifeboat together and maroon them at sea until they begin to starve and see who gets eaten first. Nine times out of ten the CEO and general counsel will eat the PR guy. The CEO’s calculation may be that he’ll need a lawyer to keep him out of jail for cannibalism. Personally, I think that’s misguided. After all, who’s going to do a better job of explaining cannibalism to the public and protecting his reputation?

    My personal issues aside, the upshot is that legal decisions are often considered to trump PR decisions, and are thus taken without regard for the PR consequences. This is especially true in companies with an unsophisticated approach to PR, but it can happen to anyone. In China we see this with things like IPR lawsuits by MNCs against local companies, which make perfect legal sense but can sometimes have PR consequences far more damaging than the actual infringement. But somehow legal problems are considered “real” while PR is considered, well, just PR. So it’s possible that even if someone within Foxconn explained to the management that suing journalists directly was a stupendously bad idea PR-wise, it’s possible that they were simply dismissed as a touchy-feely PR type without the spine to face up to hard-boiled business issues.

    To which that PR person, if he exists, should be saying who’s laughing now, dumbass? Of course, now this poor flack is busy trying to deal with the PR crisis upon which he will probably be judged, so he has no time to gloat. It’s a hard life in the spin doctors.

    So that brings us to the “‘no comment’ thing” mentioned by Roland. Regardless of whether PR people were consulted prior to the lawsuit or not, it’s pretty standard practice for companies to refuse to comment on pending or ongoing litigation. Doing so can often create further legal problems, anger judges, etc. Unfortunately, this can also evolve into a sort of programmed, knee jerk response that is automatically given even in situations where companies really ought to comment. Personally, I think this is a situation that increasingly merits comment. Furthermore, my advice to clients is that you always return a journalist’s phone call, even if it’s just to tell them that you can’t comment, and even if you expect to get roasted for that. It’s a basic courtesy and “could not comment” or even “refused to comment” generally looks better in print than “could not be reached for comment” or “did not return phone calls”, both of which make it sound like you’re hiding and amplify the appearance of guilt. Next to the image of you cowering in a smoke-filled crisis room while unanswered phones ring away, the blandest of holding statements can seem like pure gold. In this case, Foxconn is apparently not returning any calls, so, true or not, they look like they’re hiding. It also makes it hard to know if they’re playing the “don’t comment on litigation” card or if they’re just being obtuse. I’m betting on obtuse.

    Ultimately the question of motivation looms here. Is Foxconn motivated by a sincere desire to address a slight to its reputation by seeking legal redress? Or is it seeking to intimidate the Chinese press as a way of buying future insurance against bad coverage? If it is taking the first course it has committed some serious PR mistakes. It is almost always a bad idea for corporations (or governments) to sue individuals who were working on behalf of an organization, such as a newspaper. For examples, see Apple’s lawsuits against leakers and the RIAA lawsuits against file sharers, both of which were PR disasters even if they were legally sound. Suing an organization looks like seeking redress. Suing an individual looks like petty vindictiveness. David v. Goliath. It’s not that difficult an equation. (Mind you, I am speaking strictly from a PR point of view, not a legal one.) Foxconn has sued the journalists rather than their newspaper. Not only that, it has sued them for far more money than either of them is ever likely to possess, and has had their assets frozen. This not only looks petty and vindictive, it also looks sleazy since they have somehow managed to engineer a presumption of guilt and, without the benefit of a judgment, inflict considerable misery on…a journalist and an editor. And we all know how much Chinese journalists are paid. So if Foxconn was seeking to address a slight to its reputation, it has failed monumentally and is now doing even more damage to its reputation.

    On the other hand, if Foxconn was seeking to intimidate journalists…it has also failed monumentally since the Chinese (and International press and, um, bloggers) are now going crazy.  Nice work guys. It’s Miller time.

    In addition to the China PR problem, Foxconn is also entering into extremely risky territory with regards to its foreign customers, like Apple. Anyone who has followed the recent problems of US Internet and technology companies in China knows that freedom of speech issues are weeping dynamite for foreign companies doing business in China. The last thing a company like Apple needs is a contract manufacturer being accused of media intimidation in China. Imagine:

    “Hey Apple! Your contract manufacturer was just accused of horsewhipping underage girls for sixteen hours a day and now they’re trying to intimidate Chinese journalists into silence on the issue. What’s your comment? How do you feel about the freedom of Chinese media to report on these kinds of issues?”

    Despite my advice above, I’m thinking Apple doesn’t return that phone call. Or if they do, they give a non-answer about how this is an issue for the Chinese courts to settle, Apple has taken great pains to blah blah blah noise noise noise. Apple, you will recall, has had its own problems with the media, and may not want to attract charges of hypocrisy. They will also, somewhat justifiably, want to get All The Facts first.

    But that’s tough for them, because this is their PR problem too and, as I wrote yesterday, if I’m Apple I’m on the phone to Foxconn right now telling them to drop the suit, save face by announcing that their point has been made and suck it up. Better yet, Apple should set a further example for MNCs using contract manufacturing in China and come out with a statement vigorously defending the right of the Chinese press to look into the practices of MNCs and contract manufacturers in China. Apple sells jack here and has essentially no market to lose in China, and can always shift its manufacturing to Vietnam or wherever, so why not retake some of the high ground it lost over the original scandal? What’s Foxconn going to do? They’re Apple’s vendor, and there are plenty of business-hungry contract manufacturers in line behind it.

    And this situation has begun to touch Apple. RSF is already on the case, with an open letter to Steve Jobs.

    But what if the journalists actually did libel Foxconn?

    Interesting question. But from a PR point of view (not a legal one, mind you) now irrelevant. The public opinion and reputational battles have already been lost. A legal victory would be Pyrrhic at best. Foxconn absolutely has a right to defend its reputation in the courts and to respond vigorously when libeled. But legal action in defense of reputation must be considered, planned and executed with an eye on further reputational consequences (this is where PR people and lawyers often diverge). And that is something that Foxconn did not do. Furthermore, Chinese journalists will, if anything, probably be motivated to scrutinize Foxconn even more closely from now on.

    So if I were Foxconn’s PR person what would I now advise them? Presumably after I got done berating them for not talking to me before they launched the lawsuit?

    Drop the lawsuit. It’s too late to salvage this one. Drop it, make a face saving announcement and let it go. And if you must pursue the lawsuit, admit that you were “overzealous”, have the court unfreeze the journalists assets and allow them to go on with their lives pending a judgment. And reduce the damages sought to something symbolic. Remember, this is PR advice, not legal advice. I have no idea how possible any of this would be in Chinese courts. But, at first glance, Foxconn’s relationship with the Shenzhen courts looks pretty cozy, so it shouldn’t be too hard.

    And, really, stop making life difficult for your customers. You don’t need a PR man to tell you that’s a crappy way to do business.

    Notes:

    • iSuppli analyst Adam Pick recently wrote a story hailing Foxconn’s success. Among the factors he noted, “making the most of the China advantage”. It scarcely needs be remarked that one can take “the China advantage” a bit too far if not careful.
    • I should note, by way of full disclosure, that I am not a litigation support expert. That’s a specialized PR field, like financial communications, best practiced by people with a good understanding of the legal environment in which they operate. So my observations are those of a PR generalist. Litigation support experts are welcome to comment.

    Updates:

    • Danwei with some more interesting background and opinions from Chinese media.
    • Sina’s tech news page (not the journalist blog) devoted to the situation, including a handy timeline graphic (Chinese).
    • One of my bosses, a very experienced Chinese PR professional, thinks that Foxconn will be forced to withdraw the litigation. He even thinks it is possible their chairman may have to apologise. We’ll see.
    • Roland’s excellent follow up on the PR war between Foxconn and the journalists includes translations of some of Weng Bao’s blogs (the sued editor). Roland also makes an excellent point that I should have, and which is key to how Foxconn needs to think about this PR battle. From a public communication point of view this PR war is assymetrical. Foxconn is an enormous, faceless corporation speaking in corporatese. The journalists are identifiable human beings able to muster emotion and personal sympathy and use press freedom (in an acceptable local context) as a rallying cry. That means that even if they are guilty, they have the upper hand in the PR battle. Foxconn needs to consider that in all of the their PR strategizing if they are to have hope of looking like anything other than relentless bullies. (Hint: get some real people front and center.) As I wrote above, whether or not libel was committed is now essentially irrelevant. Foxconn can win but still lose if they are not careful.
    • I hear that CCTV 2′s “Dialogue” program is planning a special segment on the affair.

    Part Three: All’s well that ends in retreat

    Originally published on August 31, 2006.

    According to ESWN Foxconn has reduced the damages requested to 1 yuan. Roland is citing a very brief Netease report, and I am not sure how authoritative it is. But if it is true, then it means that Foxconn has taken one of the possible paths I outlined yesterday: reduce the damages to a symbolic level but proceed with the lawsuit. Apple also interceded in the dispute, as I suggested they should. I’d like to claim credit for remote PR genius but, a) it’s not genius, it’s common sense; b) Foxconn and Apple are probably not reading this blog and c) we’ll see how things play out for Foxconn in the Chinese press over the next few days.

    Just as interesting as the Foxconn scandal itself is a sideline discussion that has broken out over the newsworthiness of the story with regard to western audiences. Roland was originally disappointed with slow uptake of the story by Western media. Do read his post above, which offers his point of view on this and lists many of the foreign news sources that eventually did carry the story. Then be sure (especially if you’re a China PR pro) to read this post from Richard Spencer, bureau chief of UK newspaper the Telegraph. Richard keeps one of the best journalist blogs in China and he explains very clearly what news value this story has and doesn’t have with regard to his (middle-England) readers. I should send this post to my clients when they ask why I don’t pitch their China business stories to general-interest Western media like the Telegraph, as opposed to specialist business media such as The Wall Street Journal, Financial Times and Business Week.

    I’m a technology PR man so I think in terms of brand and reputation with regards to technology companies. I wrote the story for my CNET Asia blog, but then I have a specific China technology mandate, no editing to speak of, and write for an Asian readership specifically interested in technology. More generally, I tend to judge a story this way: “If I was that company’s PR man, would I be worried?” For me this story had potential legs overseas for one reason: Apple. Apple is a hot brand that just navigated a China PR scandal involving Foxconn. With an Apple press story as the origination of the of the lawsuit this is potentially interesting to foreign audiences and thus a PR risk for them. If was Apple’s PR man, I would have been worried.

    I see that a lot of the overseas coverage was fairly narrow. Some of it is in journalist blogs (as in Barron’s and the San Francisco Chronicle) and much of it in specialist technology news (Slashdot, VNUNet, MacWorld) interested specifically in the Apple connection. I put “Apple” in my own CNET headline. Most of what might considered mainstream coverage with a broad impact is either from the wire services –which covered the story widely– or business media (The Wall Street Journal, Financial Times), many of which ran the wire coverage. That’s understandable; Foxconn is a large, listed company and a major supplier to many enormous, Western technology firms, so there are business implications.

    So it was a story outside of China, but a particular kind of story. It’s interesting what crosses borders and why. When I do internal training in foreign media relations for my company I spend some time on what different kinds of foreign media consider an interesting “China story”. It always raises some eyebrows among my local colleagues.

    A closing thought. I love my summer PR scandals. Last year: the Songhua River. This year Foxconn. Gotta love those crazy August days.

    Disclosure: I am not Apple’s PR man.

    Update: Xinhua has run a story on Foxconn’s claim reduction:

    Foxconn said it lowered the compensation claim so that the public could focus on the fact that “the untrue reports had damaged the reputation of our company,” and not just on the 30 million yuan compensation claim, Sina reported, citing company spokesman Edmund Ding.

    Damn straight. And the newspaper reports aren’t the only thing damaging Foxconn’s reputation now, and it’s a little late to refocus the public’s attention. Next they think they have been libeled, they can sue the newspaper. Then, if they win, the newspaper can discipline the reporters and it won’t be their problem. Hard lessons learned. Note that I have no opinion on whether the journalists did libel Foxconn or not. That’s something for an (ahem) impartial  court to work out.

  • The kid

    The kid had staked out a patch of sidewalk and was working the steady stream of locals and foreigners passing through. The limits of his territory were the entrance to a restaurant popular with foreigners and that of a convenience store ten meters further up. He wore a stained blue t-shirt and ragged sweatpants with a scuffed seat that sagged from his rear end. His feet were bare. He was perhaps ten years old. Hard living had thinned his face, and it was hard to tell. He could have been two years older and desperately malnourished, or two years younger and a bit precocious.

    It was a good patch to work. The two businesses and the luxury hotel across the street ensured steady, well-monied traffic. But it was a hard job nonetheless. Most people were completely indifferent to the kid, and those who weren’t tended to be hostile, either scolding him or batting him away. A chinese man smacked him in the head. One large westerner mocked him, cupping his hands in the same alms-receiving gesture as the kid and pretending to beg back.

    Through it all the kid stayed remarkably cheery. He was a natural showman, sassing the people who ran him off the steps and bursting into histrionics in front of marks. When he wasn’t actually working a mark he had a perpetually bright smile on his face. He had perfected a positive mental attitude; a mighty feat for a ten year-old Beijing beggar with poor prospects. He was not going to be one of the new China’s winners. He was going to be a loser. It was inevitable. He probably couldn’t see his future, but I could take a guess at it. Juvenile crime, perhaps, as he eased into more aggressive teenage years. Maybe addiction, another victim of the river of heroin coming over the Burmese border at Ruili or in from Central Asia. If he was lucky he might end up a migrant laborer, drifting from city to city in search of work. If he was unlucky he would end up in jail, or in a quarry with a bullet in the back of his head. Or perhaps he would just go on to a career as a begger, another one of the shabby, hopeless men who stalk intersections and tourist hangouts. But he kept smiling. He could have been subject of a motivational poster on perseverance, adorning a conference room somewhere.

    The kid was energetic and fidgety and had a hard time sitting still. That wasn’t entirely his own fault. Every time he settled on the steps of the restaurant or the store an attendant would be out within moments to shoo him away. A woman from the store tried to engage him. Earlier she had scolded the kid, but now she wanted to talk. Perhaps telling him that he should find something more productive to do with his time. He chatted with her for four or five minutes before she went inside. When she came out again, it was with a switch to run him off the steps again. He had given the wrong answer.

    The kid wasn’t alone. His minder was a fat woman in clean clothes who sat across the street on a low stone wall in front of the hotel. She had a second young boy with her as well, about the same age, but he was the favored child. His clothes were clean and he didn’t have to beg. Instead, he sat with the woman, holding two empty plastic bottles. Occasionally, he would come over and give the kid some trouble. For a while the woman sent the kid across the street to work the front of an expensive ice cream parlor, but perhaps traffic was bad because he was soon back working the stretch of sidewalk between the restaurant and the convenience store.

    And the kid had some luck. Three people, all women, gave him cash. A few yuan, which the kid counted carefully before stuffing into the pocket of his sweats. Part of the kid’s repertoire was pointing at his mouth and asking for food, and one woman gave him a wrapped piece of something that looked like a slice of cake. But the kid didn’t get to eat it. The better dressed boy was across the street in moments, demanding the cake. The kid handed it over, possibly along with a smart-ass remark because he ended up taking a swift kick. The better-dressed boy took the cake across the street to the fat woman. She clearly got all the cake. It seemed likely that she was going to get the money too.

    There was another beggar working the same strip of sidewalk as the kid. A middle-aged woman in the standard beggar’s outfit: blue cotton coat, white towel wrapped around her head, shoulder bag, stick and white enamel cup. She had perfected the beggar’s misery-ridden shuffle but once, as she crossed the street, an approaching taxi forced her to break character and she hustled energetically out of the way. The begging woman didn’t compete with the kid. She was a practitioner of the “persistence” approach, shadowing a mark for fifty or a hundred meters tugging at the sleeve and shaking the few coins in the enamel cup. She would return to the space of sidewalk between the restaurant and store for a minute, but often follow marks to the end of the block or cross the street to work people in front of the hotel. The kid would stay put and focus on his small patch.

    The begging woman and the fat woman seemed to be friends. Once, the fat woman and the well-dressed boy crossed the street and the three of them gathered under a poplar tree for a congenial chat. How’s business? Who’s giving it up tonight? Is the kid pulling his weight? A couple of promising looking groups walked by during the conversation and the begging woman gave a couple of desultory shakes of her enamel cup, but it was clearly coffee break and her heart wasn’t in it. Meanwhile the kid hovered at the edge of the conversation, restless, nervous, and pointedly not invited into the little circle.

    After a few minutes the conversation broke up. The fat woman and well dressed boy returned to their perch in front of the hotel. The begging woman shadowed another group of foreigners. And the kid went back to miming hunger and clasping his hands in front of the groups leaving the restaurant and going into and out of the convenience store. Somehow, he was still smiling.

  • Infernalture

    Apartment prices are down and my lease is up, so Imagethief has been looking for a new, larger apartment to accommodate himself, Mrs. Imagethief, two whiny cats and the various junk that has accumulated in the past two years.

    I hate looking at apartments. The whole process is annoying and seedy, like buying a used car, if you were going to live in it. Of course, if you were buying a car at least the whole process would be over when you drove it off the lot (unless, of course, it was a lemon). With apartment rental, once you sign the lease you then have to deal with the brutal moving. I don’t know about you, but I find it impossible to move without losing at least one thing. Once it was the rice cooker (no big deal — it had bicycle shorts crammed into it, so whoever lifted it deserved what they got). Once it was my wife’s dive computer. This time, if I’m lucky, we’ll lose one of the cats.

    Rental agents in China are motley crew, and not all of them strike me as entirely together. One young man greeted me and my wife in a white T-shirt with the sleeves torn off (and wore the same shirt on two separate occasions), and then wondered why the security guard at Huamao gave him trouble at the door. Another explained to me at a certain complex that 160 square meter and 180 square meter apartments “cost the same because the 180 meter ones don’t rent, so the price has come down”. I didn’t have the heart to explain to him that this was both economically impossible, and not supported by the evidence of a real-estate ad listing different prices for 160 and 180 square meter apartments.

    But by far the worst aspect of renting an apartment in China is the furniture. In fact, I will extend this beyond China, since I have seennumerous apartments in Singapore and seen places belonging to Korean landlords, and make a sweeping statement: Asian landlords have, on average, the world’s most appalling taste in furnishings and fixtures. If there is a hell, it will have been furnished by an Asian landlord. And, just playing the odds, probably a Chinese one.

    What is it about buying an apartment in Asia that makes a person instantaneously lose all contact with good taste and common sense? The furniture I see in these apartments is beyond ugly, ranging from Logan’s Run-style 1970s retro-future abominations that would make orange shag carpet cringe in shame (in the future, all furniture will be inflatable leatherette!) to coccyx-shattering rosewood chinoiserie with all the inviting warmth of an ice chastity belt to faux Louis XIV rococo obscenities that could be lifted from Versailles, if Versailles was in Branson, Missouri and lined with neon.

    The other thing that really gets me is chandeliers. If wanted to live in a luxury hotel I’d live in a luxury hotel. I don’t want my apartment to feel like a luxury hotel. I certainly don’t want things that look like inverted, crystal pine trees hanging from the ceiling. These things are like the Chandeliers of Damocles. I’d be waiting for the whole jangly works to tear loose and land on my head as I’m working my way through my morning Grape Nuts. I don’t want to die with my face in a bowl of Grape Nuts and an enormous, crystal pine tree embedded in my skull. The morticians will make fun of my corpse and my family will refuse to take delivery of the remains. The hearse will make jingly crystal noises every time it goes over a speed bump. New-agers will come to worship at my grave. (“He didn’t die! He transcended space-time with the help of crystals in his skull!”) How humiliating. I’ll end up was one of the “odd news” bites in the China Daily: “Foreigner dies in blaze of glory!” It’ll be right above, “Two-headed goat in Shaanxi sings Donny & Marie classics!”

    I suppose chandeliers are better than the alternative, which is relentlessly cold fluorescent lighting that makes the inside of the apartment look like a meat locker. Notice how fluorescent light can make anyone look like a serial killer? Under incandescent or warm fluorescent light Mrs. Imagethief is a gorgeous woman with intoxicating, brown skin, lustrous hair and sparkling eyes. Under fluorescent light she looks like Norman Bates’ mother in Psycho. And, if you don’t recall, Norman Bates’ mother was dead. God knows what it must make me look like. Lurch from the Addams Family, perhaps. Or Dick Cheney.

    But who will notice the cheap lighting when there is a TV the size of a billboard? Yes, every apartment I look at has furniture that looks lifted from Peewee’s Playhouse, either hallucinatory chandeliers that would make Steve Wynn blanch or soul-destroying dimestore fluorescents and, for some reason, a brand-new flatscreen TV big enough burn your shadow into the wall behind you (but inevitably paired with a 200 kuai cheapie DVD player).

    Here’s an idea: Take the money you’ve spent on the forty-inch LCD television and plow it into some decent lighting and tolerable fucking furniture. There’s an Ikea in this town. I know; I’ve seen it. It’s the size of a small planet. It’s Ikea-World. It’s so big that there are probably people who have been lost inside since the day it opened, subsisting on Swedish meatballs that have rolled under the displays. I don’t like Ikea. In fact, in Singapore I was busy purging the Ikea furniture from my house. But it’s so big that, even if they’re catering to dire, nouveau riche tastes, they must have some furniture that, if not exactly nice, is at least bland and inoffensive. I’ll take a piece of furniture called “Kysblispinyx” or some other too-precious Nordic name if that’s what I have to endure in order to have a couch that supports my legs completely rather than suddenly folding down when I slide forward and slamming my face into the glass coffee table. Honestly, why not just have knives shoot out of the cushions?

    I know, I know. You’re thinking I should get an unfurnished place and buy my own furniture. I would, but I already had to sell one houseful of furniture when I moved to China. I don’t relish the idea of accumulating another raft of miscellaneous possessions that I’ll have to unload three or four years hence when I move back to Singapore. And, from what I’ve seen, the chances of my buying anything here that I’ll want to treasure for the rest of my life are slim.

    So I’m sucking it up. I’ll find a chandelier-free apartment with classy furniture in this town if it kills me. It can be the dankest, most cockroach-ridden, formaldehyde-infused shithole in Beijing as long as the furniture doesn’t give me cataracts. If I can’t manage that, I’ll just buy a used car and sleep in that.

    Note: Imagethief would like to tip his hat to his current landlord who, with the exception of the couch, did a reasonable job furnishing his apartment.

  • The trouble with English teachers

    AP ran an interesting article (via Peking Duck and Paper Tiger) on the perils of being an English teacher in China. I found it a fascinating read both because it strengthened my own reservations about the seedy Chinese black market for English teachers, and because it made me think about some of my prejudices as an expatriate in China. The article is worth a read in its entirety. An excerpt:

    For decades, Chinese made their way to the West, often illegally, to end up doing dangerous, low-paying jobs in sweatshop conditions. Now some foreigners drawn by China’s growth and hunger for English lessons are landing in the schoolhouse version of the sweatshop.

    In one case, an American ended up dead. Darren Russell, 35, from Calabasas, Calif., died under mysterious circumstances days after a dispute caused him to quit his teaching job in the southern city of Guangzhou. “I’m so scared. I need to get out of here,” Russell said in a message left on his father’s cell phone hours before his death in what Chinese authorities said was a traffic accident.

    As China opens up to the world, public and private English-language schools are proliferating. While most treat their foreign teachers decently, and wages can run to $1,000 plus board, lodging and even airfare home, complaints about bad experiences in fly-by-night operations are on the rise. The British Embassy in Beijing warns on its Web site about breaches of contracts, unpaid wages and broken promises. The U.S. Embassy says complaints have increased eightfold since 2004 to two a week on average.

    Though foreign teachers in South Korea, Japan and other countries have run into similar problems, the number of allegations in China is much higher because “the rule of law is still not firmly in place,” said a U.S. Embassy official who spoke on condition of anonymity.

    “A number of substandard English language teaching mills have sprung up, seeking to maximize profits while minimizing services,” the U.S. House of Representatives International Relations Committee said in a recent report on Russell’s case. These institutes have become virtual “‘sweatshops’ where young, often naive Americans are held as virtual indentured servants.”

    Well, indentured servitude might be laying it on a bit thick. I’d wager your average young American in a crappy English teaching job in China has rather more options open to them than, say, the undocumented Guatemalan picking Strawberries in Aptos for hour after backbreaking hour. Still, I don’t doubt that you could end up in a situation that was scary at best and dangerous at worst. Indeed, the article discusses the death of one foreign English teacher in murky circumstances.

    I’ve always been a bit contemptuous of the English teaching scene in China. Not because there is anything wrong in teaching English; it is good and noble work and many smart people dedicate their lives to it. Rather, my contempt has arisen because of the distinct atmosphere of sleaze that surrounds the industry here in China. Now I know that many English teachers read this blog (and some of you do fine blogs of your own), so bear with me before you start leaving angry comments or deleting me from your RSS reader. After you’ve finished you can still delete me if you want. Or leave the flame.

    It has always seemed to me that teaching in English was the job of last resort for people who wanted to spend an extended period of time here. Obviously, there are organizations here willing to take advantage of that situation. While I know people who have taught English here for many years and enjoyed it, I also know some that have had bad experiences and came away feeling exploited and angry. Not surprisingly, the rate of exploitation seems to be higher for those who enter into situations willing to play fast and loose with things like employment documentation. Really, that ought to be a warning. Remember kids: if someone asks you to surrender your passport or tells you not to worry about the paperwork, be extremely suspicious.

    The funny thing is that when I tell Chinese people I work in China, many of them ask if I am an English teacher. After reading the article above it occurred to me that I often react to that question badly. “No,” I’ll huff. “I’m not an English teacher.” Subtext: I have a realjob, you clown. I had, without meaning to, constructed in my mind a pecking order of resident foreigners in China, which went something like this:

    • Grizzled China hands who know everybody and senior diplomats
    • Business professionals (including myself), journalists, NGO people etc.
    • English teachers
    • Underage foreign students getting drunk at Babyface or Kai

    Note that English teachers were not at the bottom of this heap, although it was a thin layer between them and the cellar. Of course, being a professional spin-doctor is liable to attract scorn in its own right, so I probably have no business putting on airs. It’s not like ahyi on the train asked me if I was a professional man-bitch at a state prison (that always flatters me) or an arms smuggler or some such. I was even in the dreaded foreign student category briefly, although I was thirty-six when I arrived and had a hard time keeping up with the teenagers. But my mild insult at being asked if I am an English teacher is rooted in my prejudice toward the industry here in China rather than toward the act of teaching English itself. That makes it different from the mild insult I’d feel at being asked if I was a drunk, underage foreign student (although in that situation I might also be secretly pleased by my apparently youthful looks).

    Of course many of the people in the top two spaces on my little list above started their China careers as English teachers. A few even started them as drunk, underage foreign students, although most of them are old enough so that international hotel bars were the only places they could drink when they were students. So this is my confession that I have been too hard on China’s English teachers (that this blog is, after all, the confessions of an American spin doctor in China), scorning you for no fault of your own even as you labor in intolerable circumstances for meager coppers. I hereby apologize.

    Now quit fooling around and go get a real job.

  • Electro-sphere and other photo-opps

    I know what I am good at and what I am not good at. For example, I consider myself a pretty good writer and PR strategist. Both of those convictions are regularly reinforced by the fact that I get invited to write professionally and I continue to be employed in the PR industry. On the other hand, I am pure ass-monkey when it comes to dreaming up creative PR “tactics” such as events, stunts and location campaigns. My creativity just doesn’t manifest itself in that way, no matter how hard I try. In Singapore I once famously presided over a brainstorm where the best idea to emerge was firing the local MD of a multinational technology company out of an enormous cannon, an idea that I think owed more to a great deal of overwork and suppressed resentment than any creative inspiration. I had a vision of him sailing through the air trailing smoke and tattered clothing while yelling, “you’re fiiirrrred!” in my direction. I did not include this idea in my recommendations to the client.

    Among the various things that I am bad at dreaming up is photo opportunities. This is largely because I despise staged photo opportunities and all they stand for. If PR is sometimes guilty of creating fake news (although in our defense, we also often create real news), it is regularly guilty of creating fake news photography. And it’s not just corporate PR that is guilty of this. Think of every photo you’ve ever seen of two wooden diplomats standing side by side, clasping hands and forcing smiles as flash guns sizzle. Do I need to see a photo of Condi Rice and Ehud Olmert shaking hands to drive home the point that, yes, they actually met? Probably not. They met. I believe you.

    Whenever we have a launch event for a client –be it a product launch, new facility or even a partnership announcement– there always has to be a photo opp. I can understand this; a photo can help to sell a story and some publications that won’t run a full story might still run a photo and caption, which can be just as good for us. Still, it often ends up being pure torture for me. A favorite technique of mine is to palm the entire responsibility for the photo opp off on the event management company, which is often better at dreaming such stuff up anyway. Still, that doesn’t always make for a complete escape. I once went through a week of pure hell with one MNC in China, going back and forth on an acceptable photo opp for a leadership transition announcement. The idea had been proposed by the event company, but it was we who had to haggle every conceivable detail of coloring, placement and final design with the client. The final result was, I have to admit, not bad. But I nearly committed suicide getting there. I also worked on an event where a bunch of executives had to assemble a large, block-like puzzle device to symbolize various components fitting together in harmony. Trust me, you never want your photo-opp to involve too many guys in suits bending over.

    The brutal reality is that 90% of photo opps are completely uncreative. I have long since lost track of the number of ribbon-cuttings, ground-breakings and laying of hands on plasma spheres I have attended or –worse– had a role in orchestrating. The plasma sphere, or light ball, is a local favorite. Many launches or announcements, such as new partnerships, are abstract. You’re not launching the A380 or a new sports car. There is nothing physical to unveil, just an idea. But clients still want a “moment” that can both symbolize the launch and provide a photo opp. An orb-shaped light or one of those plasma spheres is a common dodge. At the appropriate moment, all the executives on stage put a hand on the orb, which lights up. Simultaneously a backdrop or plaque or obelisk or some such totem is unveiled or dramatically lit. A fanfare swells to fill the hall. Flashbulbs pop. PR consultants exhale with relief. Everybody goes home safe to their spouses, pets and children.

    Of course, it’s all dull as shit and, in the end, profoundly meaningless. And the photos that result, while they sometimes get run by content-starved news organizations, are generally not the kind of thing to make a photo editor snap upright in his chair and get on the phone to the page-one editor. The impression on most readers is probably similarly null and void, beyond making sure the client’s logo –always part of the design– drifts past their eyeballs yet one more time in the grand river of noisy clutter that is modern media.

    So, as agreed all around, I am an ass-monkey when it comes to dreaming up photo opps that are creative and practical. But I am pretty decent at dreaming up photo opps that are thoroughly impractical but entertaining. There are so many things that I desperately want to make happen the moment all those executives lay their hands on the plasma ball. Here, for your edification, are the ones I most wish I could stage:

    • Instead of a plasma ball or harmless light ball, I’d like to have all the executives lay their hands on the sphere of a Van de Graf generator, making all their hair stand on end and their clothing bunch up. For extra fun, we could ground them simultaneously.
    • At the moment they all touch the ball I’d like to drop upon them an enormous, trapezoidal weight with “20 Tons” stenciled on the side. As a Wile E. Coyote variation, I’d also consider dropping a grand piano acceptable.
    • At the moment of launch I’d like to open a trap door that plunges all the executives into a well-lit tank of ravenous saltwater crocodiles. Tiger sharks –a la Thunderball– also acceptable. Whichever is handy.
    • At the moment of launch, I’d like the curtain behind to executives to rise on a topless revue in the style of the Moulin Rouge. We could serve absinthe to all the attendees to sell in the effect.
    • At the moment of launch a squad of professional dominatrixes with riding crops would rush onto the stage and thoroughly spank all the attending executives.
    • Variation: At the moment of launch a high school football squad would rush onto the stage, give everyone wedgies and then upend them into nearby trash cans filled with cafeteria refuse. I’ve seen this happen, so I know how dramatic the effect can be.
    • At the moment of launch, the curtain at the back of the stage would drop to reveal…Marilyn Manson, live in concert! (No one has the budget for this, which is a pity. I think several multinational brands could benefit by closer association with Marilyn Manson, although whether he would benefit is debatable.)
    • At the moment of launch, lasers, animatronics, rear projection and cleverly designed scrims could be used to present the effect of all of the attending executives being rapturously assumed bodily into heaven. After all, from the speeches you’d think that was what about to happen.
    • At the moment of launch the presiding PR consultant is fired out of a cannon (it’s only fair).
    • And, for that special Chinese flavor, at the moment of launch I’d like cages to drop open, releasing twenty rabid pandas onto the stage. No one would ever forget that.

    I realize that many of the suggestions above might be interpreted as displaying a degree of hostility toward my clients. I assure you that nothing could be further from the truth. Most of my clients are genuinely very nice people to work for, and I want only the best for them. But if you want to make an impression in this over-mediated world, you need to be prepared to go out on a limb. Plus, I grew up watching violent cartoons (per my Wile E. Coyote reference above) and suffer the lingering psychological effects. But look at the upside. A few events like this and not only will I be able to throw the 车马费 overboard, but I figure I’ll be able to start charging the press to attend.

  • Escalation

    Getting from point A to point B in Beijing, assuming point A and B aren’t right next to each other, is one of the daily adventures that makes life here so interesting. Aside from a certain hyper-linear approach to walking that can make the most casual stroll an exercise in ducking and weaving and the well-documented board-first/exit second approach to subways and elevators, there is also the near mystical ability of Chinese people to suddenly stop at choke points such as doorways. Hilarity ensues.

    Nowhere is this tendency more infuriating than at the tops and bottoms of escalators. I work in an office tower atop a glitzy supermall awash in escalators. My commute requires no less than three escalator rides from the subway station to the lift lobby. Without fail someone will be standing smack at the top of one of those escalators wondering whether to get breakfast from Dairy Queen or Bread Talk while angry people pile up behind. This is far more obnoxious than the local tendency to stand two-abreast and leave no lane for walking on the elevator. That’s obstructive but at least it’s not dangerous.

    I am most likely to be riding escalators when I am on my way to work or back home from work. Neither is a time when I am blessed with surplus patience, and the sight of a teenage couple parked on the elevator landing wondering which retail paradise or food-service outlet to avail themselves of makes me want to lower my shoulder and blow through them like Ronnie Lott.

    At this point I must digress and explain something of the phenomenon that was Ronnie Lott. If you didn’t grow up in San Francisco in the 1980s or are not huge American football fan, you probably have no idea who Ronnie Lott is. That’s a shame, because Ronnie was one of the most exciting professional athletes ever to grace a television near you. Ronnie was a free safety for the San Francisco Forty-Niners back when the  Niners were the most feared American football team in the league. Ronnie played three different positions well, but he made his career as a free safety. For those who don’t understand American football, I’ll explain. One of the ways you can advance the ball in football is by making a forward pass, literally throwing the ball down the field where, hopefully, someone on the same team will catch it.

    This can be surprisingly difficult, not least because there are usually several extremely large and freakishly fast defenders roaming around the “backfield” (the area where the ball is likely to be caught) waiting to dispense pain upon anyone who dares to try to catch a lofted ball. Free safeties are one of those defenders, and the best of them have an uncanny ability to tell how a play will unfold and to be in the right place to dispense that pain. For more than a decade, Ronnie Lott was the NFL’s chief backfield pain dispenser.

    Although smart, tough and fast, much of Ronnie’s effectiveness was psychological. A receiver –the guy trying to catch the ball– would be streaking down the field when a pass would head his way. Man, he was open and it was a perfect throw. He could smell the goal line already. He’d reach out his arms to pull in the pass, but just as his fingertips were brushing the pigskin BLAM! All 203 pounds of Ronnie would come blazing out of nowhere and lay into the poor schmoe’s unprotected, stretched-out ribs at a full-on sprint. Some dudes turned 360 degree somersaults in the air on taking hits like that from Ronnie. The football would go bouncing off down the field and a bunch of guys with polo shirts and black bags would run onto the field to administer smelling salts and ask the dazed receiver what day of the week it was.

    That’s when the psychological effect would take over. Ronnie would terrorize the backfield for a while, and then receivers would start to terrorize themselves. A receiver would be streaking down the field again, another perfect looking pass would float his way and, just as he was reaching for it, you would see the thought float through his head: Oh shit! Where’s Ronnie? He’d take his eye off the ball for a split second to find out where Ronnie was and miss the catch. And, as often as not, Ronnie was right there anyway, KAPOW!Ecstasy.

    That’s the effect I want to have on people who stop at the tops or bottoms of escalators. I want to lower my shoulder and set a few painful examples. I want the teenage guy and his spindly girlfriend blocking the landing to think, “Dairy Queen or Bread Talk? Oh shit! Where’s Will?” KABLAM! Only my natural restraint and lack of shoulder pads keeps me from living this fantasy. But someday that restraint will break.

    I used to also be much more annoyed by the behavior of Beijingers getting onto escalators as well as off of them. I don’t break stride when I walk onto an escalator and I expect other people to behave the same way. It’s easy enough to shift a few inches backward or forward if you feel the step splitting beneath your feet. Nevertheless, I see a lot of people here stopping at the foot of escalators and carefully and deliberately stepping onto them. But after careful observation I’ve noticed a number of western tourists doing the same thing, so it’s not just a Chinese thing. And, in fairness to the Chinese, the only person I’ve ever seen who utterly failed to manage an escalator was an Australian woman at the airport who appeared to have had a few too many mini-bottles of Johnnie Walker on her flight up from Sydney. She simply toppled over backward and would have been on her way to Beijing United with a “V” shaped groove across the back of her skull had she not fortunately landed on a large suitcase. It took a frantic effort by me and one of her friends to get her upright before we reached the landing. Perhaps the cautious, Chinese approach is sensible. Of course, escalators also have a somewhat shorter tradition here than they do in the west. An article in The Economist (subscription) from last December pointed out that even in the west…

    …[Escalators] were initially regarded as terrifying: when Harrods, a London department store, introduced its first escalator in 1898, smelling salts and brandy were provided to revive customers overcome by the experience.

    So I could understand when I once had to watch an attendant at the Blue Zoo, a Beijing aquarium, painstakingly explain the turnstile and escalators to a bunch of provincial tourists and then talk them through one at a time. After all, everybody has a first time. But what I can forgive in an elderly man from a semi-rural part of Anhui and what I can forgive in Beijing’s young, urban sophisticates are different. If you have an iPod, you should know better than to stop at the end of the escalator. Better keep your eyes open, because I’m out there somewhere, roaming the backfield of Oriental Plaza. CRUNCH!

    Note: In writing this post I had to use a proxy server to access the Pro Football Hall of Fame website in the USA. Come on, Nanny; the BBC, Wikipedia and Blogspot I can understand. But the Hall of Fame? That’s just wrong.

  • Imagethief and the hell of yurts – video companion

    Note: This video was originally presented as the companion to a long, written travelogue that is no longer posted. I reposted the video when I restored my archives because it’s much more fun than the long-winded written version. -WM

    It’s no Danwei TV, but here is Imagethief’s foray into video production. During our recent trip to Xinjiang, Mrs. Imagethief used her point-and-shoot digital camera to take about eighteen minutes of video, including several off-the-cuff stand-ups by Imagethief. We hadn’t originally intended to do anything with it except show it with our travelling companions, but after reviewing the raw footage it seemed like a waste not to share it. In a past life I used to do digital audio and video production and I’ve still got some of the tools. I’ve cut the video down to eight minutes, played with the sequence to give it some narrative coherence and added a voice over. The camera is a nifty little device, but because it’s the size of a pack of playing cards there is a bit of camera shake. Sorry about that. Nonetheless, I hope you find it entertaining, and I hope Imagethief’s singular wit survives the transition to video.

    You can also see it at YouTube. Unfortunately I don’t have a version of this video posted on a Chinese video sharing site.

  • A week in the life of a China flack

    Imagethief has recently had several e-mails from young foreigners in China who are interested in embarking upon a career in PR here. Why these students should choose such a career as opposed to, say, enlisting in the Navy as a boiler technician or applying for a research internship to the Congo is a mystery. But there is no arguing with the idealism and energy of youth.

    As a service to these eager youngsters, and anyone else with an interest, I thought I would diary a week (six days actually) in the life of a China flack. I hope the following chronology of glamour and high society will lure more talented young people (or burned out journalists) into the industry.

    Wednesday
    6:00 AM: Up early for the 8:40AM flight to Shanghai to work on new business proposal with a Shanghai colleague. Flight is uneventful. Get to Shanghai office at noon. Picked up by company driver and taken to office. Fishball noodles for lunch.

    1:00 PM: Before working on proposal, make RSVP calls to foreign media invited to attend a Shanghai roundtable event with a client’s senior global executive the following Monday. A Chiense media event is also planned. I am due back in Shanghai on Sunday for exec briefing and will stay through Monday for the event.

    2:00 PM: Within moments of finishing media calls and confirming foreign media, client’s China PR manager informs me that global office is considering canceling foreign media event. Don’t wish to do group media event for various reasons.

    Also learn that Publication That Shall Not Be Named has called client to complain they weren’t invited to event. In fact, they have been invited and one of their journalists is supposed to attend.

    While pondering how to rescue foreign media event I continue working on proposal with colleagues. Draft due following morning. Work until 2 AM with break for noodles for dinner.

    2:00 AM: Go to hotel and check in. Must fly to Guangzhou next morning. Have following dialogue with dimwit night reception clerk at hotel:

    Me: What time do I need to leave to get to Hongqiao Airport by 9:45 AM?
    Dimwit: It takes about a half hour to get there with no traffic.
    Me: How will the traffic be at that time?
    Dimwit: I think you should leave at 7 AM.
    Me: 7 AM? That seems early. I don’t have to be there until 9: 45AM. My flight is at 10:45.
    Dimwit: Oh. Then you don’t need to leave so early.
    Me: Ok. So what time do I need to leave to arrive at the airport at 9: 45AM?
    Dimwit: (Exasperated) I just told you it takes a half hour to get there.
    Me (in my head): Lissen, dickweed, I will come over this counter and smack the spikes right off your head. You said half an hour with no traffic. There’s gonna be traffic at 9 AM. You have rush hour in Shanghai, don’t you, pinhead? So what time should I fucking leave?
    Me (actually): Ok. Gimme my key.

    Clerk also informs me breakfast not included with my room. Will be 145 RMB. I go to room and crash.

    Thursday
    7:00 AM: Up early to catch 10:45AM flight to Guangzhou to conduct training for colleagues in Guangzhou office. In absence of information from hotel pinhead decide to leave at 8:45 AM.

    8:00 AM: check out and go to hotel café for breakfast. Line of thirty people waiting for tables stretches from entrance. Abandon breakfast. Get taxi to airport. During the ride, observe the following rules posted in the taxi:

    • Don’t defile the taxi inside and any signs of the taxi.
    • Schizophrenics or drunkards without a guardian are prohibited to take taxi
    • Don’t instigate the drive to violate the regulation of the passenger transport and traffic management
    • No spitting and dumping inside the taxi.
    • If making a complaint, offer concerned evidence.

    Seems reasonable.

    Ride takes exactly half an hour, just as advised by night clerk.  I think dark thoughts about strangling him.

    8:30 AM: Get surprisingly serviceable Western breakfast at Hongqiao Airport for 40 RMB.

    10:45 AM: Flight is uneventful. Short on sleep. Doze.

    1 PM: Arrive in Guangzhou. Picked up by company driver and taken to office building. Have never been to Guangzhou office.

    1:45 PM: Arrive at 70+ floor CITIC tower. Ask driver what floor it is on. “Never been,” he says. Realize he is not the company driver, just some guy they hired to pick me up.

    Stupidly, don’t have Guangzhou office phone number with me. Scan directory and spot every other PR and marketing firm in the country. Not mine. Begin to wonder if I am at correct building.

    1:55 PM: Call Beijing office and ask coordinator what floor our Guangzhou office is on. “Six,” she says. Also gives me Guangzhou office phone number. Scan directory again. No sixth floor listed. Check elevators. No elevator goes to sixth floor. Really begin to suspect I am at wrong building.

    2:00 PM: Call Guangzhou office and ask which floor they are on. “Sixty-eight,” they say. Ten minutes later, figure out CITIC tower elevator system and arrive on 68th floor. Find office.

    Receptionist orders Illy cappuccino for me. I kiss her feet and set up in spare office.

    2:15 PM: Check e-mail. Client has decided to cancel foreign media event in Shanghai. After some discussion with Client’s PR manager, decide to pitch exclusive to one publication instead of group event. Approach should allay global office’s concerns.

    2:30 PM: Make phone calls to two journalists considered appropriate for exclusive. One can’t make time. Another interested. Will check with editor next morning.

    3:00 PM: Conduct English writing training for Guangzhou office. Can’t say enough about team. Bright, enthusiastic and fun.

    Training over at 5PM.

    6:00 PM: Increasingly bad feelings about canceling on journalists already invited to client’s Shanghai media event and offering exclusive to another publication. Am giving foreign media relations training to Guangzhou team the next morning. Seems like classic media relations blunder case study in making. Don’t need that kind of irony.

    6:30 PM: Call client and recommend we treat all foreign media fairly and cancel foreign media activities completely. We will only do Chinese media event. Client agrees. Informs me that, as Chinese media only, my presence no longer required in Shanghai for Sunday executive briefing session or Monday event.

    I continue working.

    8:30 PM: Go to cheap Cantonese dinner with a colleague. Eat spicy Cantonese beef dish.

    9:30 PM    : After dinner, catch taxi to Tian Lun hotel. Taxi takes me to Tian Long hotel. After correcting driver he tells me that Tian Lun is “100 meters” from CITIC building and berates me for duration of return drive. Makes me get out of taxi one block from Tian Lun hotel, presumably to prove point. God bless Guangzhou taxi drivers. Tian Lun actually about 500 meters from CITIC building. Have to admit, not far.

    9:50 PM: Check into Tian Lun. Get upgraded to palatial business-suite room. Collapse on bed and wallow in unspeakable luxury of largest hotel room I have ever occupied. Watch Spiderman II on HBO. Catch up on e-mails. Happy. Have good night’s sleep.

    Friday
    8:00 AM: Nice breakfast at hotel.

    9:30 AM: Client changes mind, requests my presence in Shanghai for Chinese media event after all. So much for Sunday.

    9:35 AM: Spicy Cantonese beef dish aggravates intestines. I run for bathroom at regular intervals.

    9:45 AM: Call and e-mail all journalists originally invited to foreign media event, including one still considering exclusive, and inform of cancellation. Grovel mightily in superb demonstration of foreign media relations skills.

    10:00 AM: Conduct foreign media relations training for Guangzhou colleagues. Still can’t say enough good about team there. Bright, enthusiastic and fun. And ask several very acute questions about media industry.

    12:30 PM: Intelligent questions delay end of training for half an hour. Running late. Gotta go to airport and catch flight back to Beijing. But Guangzhou director has already ordered dim sum for lunch at restaurant downstairs.

    12:45 PM: Go to lunch with director and set all-time dim-sum speed eating record. Also run for bathroom at regular intervals. Feel very rude. Seafood in tanks looks fresh and vigorous. Reminder of moribund state of Beijing seafood.

    1:30 PM: Late, late late! Catch taxi to airport. Driver mysteriously takes surface roads rather than expressway for half of journey, presumably in order to show me best of Guangzhou. Blood pressure soars. At far end driver palms road toll receipt.

    2:15 PM: Forty-five minutes to my flight. Long line. Sign at check in says, “If less than fifty minutes until your flight, check in at counter D8.” Go to counter D8. No one there. Go back to regular counter. Line has doubled in two minutes. Blood pressure soars again.

    2:30 PM: Successfully check in. Guangzhou airport is size of planet and my airplane parked on its furthest moon. Actually, second furthest. But, as there are 116 moons, not a big difference.

    2:45 PM: Reach airplane. To make Guangzhou residents on flight as comfortable as possible, climate controls are set for Guanghzhou conditions: hot and humid. Will be this way for entire flight.

    3:00 PM to 6:00 PM: On flight work on new business presentation to accompany proposal we did on Wednesday.

    6:00 PM: Arrive in Beijing on time. Home at 7PM. Have dinner with Mrs. Imagethief.

    8:30 PM: Publication That Shall Not Be Named (the one that called client before to complain about not being invited) calls client again to ask if event is still on. Client calls me to ask if I have informed all journalists that event is cancelled. I have.

    10:00 PM: Write blog post for CNET until midnight.

    Saturday
    Long, slow breakfast at home. Write two pieces for That’s Beijing. Take Mrs. Imagethief out on date.

    Sunday
    7:00 AM: Up early to catch 9:40 AM flight to Shanghai with Client. Flight leaves on time. Four-for-four with on-time flights. Not bad for China!

    10:00 AM: Check into Shanghai Salvo Hotel. Definitely not Tian Lun. Room is so small I have to step outside to change my mind. But aircon, Internet and CNN work, so it’s all good.

    12:00 PM: Note the following on a poster in the Salvo’s lobby:

    Fu Bar of the 31st floor has advanced projection and rounding sound equipments and professional mixologist. With finely arranging atmosphere you can enjoy the enthusiasm and galliardise in the football sport. Let night of world’s cup bubbles up along with air bubble of goblet.

    Contemplate accidental humor of a bar named “Fu Bar” (福吧).

    12:30 PM: Lunch with Client. Curry beef and lotus root.

    1:30 PM: Return to Salvo Hotel. Write posts for CNET and Shanghaiist.

    5:30 PM: Have briefing session for client’s visiting executive. Goes smoothly, although executive oddly reluctant to make eye contact.

    7:30 PM: An evening out in Shanghai:

    • A hamburger, quiche and two beers at Three on the Bund with a view of Pudong: 360 RMB.
    • An ice cream stick from a xiaomaibu a block off of Nanjing Rd: 2 RMB.
    • Two hours of Asiapundit’s company: Priceless.

    10:00 PM: Back to hotel. Crash.

    Monday
    7:00 AM: Up early for event.

    7:45 AM: Escort Chinese journalists from down-market Salvo to opulent fice star hotel for event. Contrast is startling. Wish I’d stayed at opulent hotel.

    8:30 AM: Publication That Shall Not Be Named calls me to ask if foreign media event is still on. With regrets, I inform them that it’s really cancelled.

    Presentations in morning go smoothly. Event room is small and simultaneous translation booth is insufficiently soundproof. Everyone in room can hear translator as well as speaker, even if not wearing headsets.

    During Q&A the wireless microphone goes out so translator can’t hear questions. Nobody wants to be the one to take one of the other mics from the panelists.

    One of my colleagues in charge of Chinese media relations doesn’t greet Chinese journalists coming in late and ensure that they have translation headsets etc. I have to prod.

    9:00 AM: After presentations we move to small room for roundtable Q&A with media. Client spokesperson gets head of steam in introductions. Translation is now consecutive. Have to gently remind spokesperson to stop every now and then so translator can keep up.

    Five-star hotel is opulent, but has shitty maintenance staff. They are repairing air ducts. Every two minutes noise like kettle drums rattles through our conference room. I tell my Chinese colleague to tell hotel staff we won’t pay for room. Banging subsides. But think it was actually for lunch break.

    Q&A goes well.

    10:30 AM: After event wrap, take taxi back to my company’s Shanghai office for meeting with Shanghai colleagues to rehearse for presentation to potential client that afternoon.

    12:00 PM: Lunch of sandwiches in conference room.

    2:00 PM: After rehearsal go to Pudong for presentation to potential client at St. Regis. Presentation goes well.

    4:20 PM: We have post-mortem discussion until 5:00 PM. I have 7:00 PM flight from Hongqiao. Gotta go. Don’t want to miss flight. Wife and I trying to have baby and today is “the” day for this month, according to sophisticated charts and graphs.

    5:00 PM: Colleagues and I pile into company car and head for Puxi. Colleagues want to be dropped at Nanjing Rd. West on way through town. Detour through traffic stretches drive interminably. Other thing stretching is bladder. Feeling effects of cappuccino, bottle of water and Diet Coke at presentation. No choice. Have to hold out until airport.

    5:45 PM: Drop off colleagues. Traffic continues to crawl. Bladder continues to stretch. Start having fantasies of relieving myself into water bottle, glove box, wherever. Kidneys begin to hurt. Begin to fear nephritis.

    5:55 PM: Finally get on Yan’an Elevated Road. Traffic improves dramatically. Bladder continues to expand. Imminent threat of catastrophic uro-nova.

    6:05 PM: On Yan’an road, spy a calico cat. It has wandered onto elevated road and is now trapped, a kilometer from the nearest exit. The cat is up on the concrete rail, wedged against the fiberglass that separates roads from nearby buildings, as far away from traffic as possible. How long has the cat been trapped there? It is probably hungry and thirsty. It has the shocked, shrunken-into itself look of an animal that has been scared for a long period of time. It is doomed. Only a matter of time before it breaks onto road and goes under the wheels of a vehicle. Saddened, due to fondness for cats. Personal troubles suddenly diminished by comparison.

    6:15 PM: Surprisingly, get to airport with forty-five minutes to spare. Fast check in (for those without baggage) is closed for first time in my experience. I ignore screaming bladder and go to normal check-in. Line moves fast. Get window seat, which I prefer.

    6:25 PM: Sprint for bathroom. Piss for centuries. I will never piss again.

    6:35 PM: Piss again.

    6:40 PM: Board airplane.

    9:00 PM: Taken off airplane due to delays caused by bad weather in Beijing.

    9:00 PM to 1:00 AM: Find power outlet in waiting room. Edit Xinjiang video on laptop. Watch Dave Chappel videos on laptop. Give thanks for laptop and habit of always keeping one or videos that I want to see on it. At 10:30 PM airport serves us a compensation meal. Could be worst meal I have ever eaten.

    Flights begin to be cancelled. No departures left on departure board. Begin to worry that I may be sleeping in airport.

    1:00 AM: Our flight is re-boarded.

    1:45 AM: Wheels-up.

    3:30 AM: Arrive Beijing. Sun starts to come up during taxi ride home.

    5:00 AM: Off to bed. Oh, magical sleep, bestow thy sweet kiss upon me.

    Tuesday
    9:00 AM: Up for conference call.

    And so on. As for getting pregnant, well, there’s always next month.

  • What if Yahoo abandoned China?

    If you grew up in the US reading Marvel Comics, like Imagethief, you may remember the old What If? series. In What If? the fates of Marvel superheroes were projected into alternate realities. It made for some pretty good stories as the conventions attached to characters you knew and loved were overturned. I had one issue where Conan the Barbarian was stranded in the 20th century, became leader of a street gang, kicked Captain America’s ass and was ultimately invited to join the Avengers. The classic What if the Hulk had Bruce Banner’s brain? made it into the Best of Marvel Comics anthology. It’s fun to play those kind of conjecture games, knowing that at the end of the day you’ll snap back to reality (or your regular monthly subscription) and everything will be just how you left it.

    I thought it might be fun to play this game with Yahoo, which has paid the worst price in terms of PR and brand damage for its association with China. Yahoo has been repeatedly vilified for its conduct in China, taking it on the chin from New York Times columnistNicholas Kristof (via Peking Duck), power-blogger and Global Voices supremo Rebecca MacKinnon in one of her angriest posts ever, and others. Much of Yahoo’s trouble has stemmed from their implication not only in filtering and censoring their China results, but also in turning over information from e-mail accounts belong to Chinese journalists to the Chinese authorities.

    Like all the major Internet companies who have been caught in this scandal –Google and Microsoft included– Yahoo’s response has been wholly inadequate to the challenge. All of the American companies involved have concentrated on legal defenses and studiously ignored the question of values. That is a mistake that their critics, such as Reporters Sans Frontiers (RSF), are not making. Just last week, RSF administered another slapping with the following announcement (proxy link), based upon a modest research project:

    Yahoo! clear worst offender in censorship tests on search engines

    Reporters Without Borders said it found Yahoo! to be the clear worst offender in censorship tests the organisation carried out on Chinese versions of Internet search engines Yahoo!, Google, MSN as well as their local competitor Baidu.

    The testing threw up significant variations in the level of filtering. While yahoo.cn censors results as strictly as baidu.cn, search engines google.cn and the beta version of msn.cn let through more information from sources that are not authorized by the authorities.

    ***

    The press freedom organisation is particularly shocked by the scale of censorship on yahoo.cn. first because the search results on “subversive” key words are 97% pro-Beijing. It is therefore censoring more than its Chinese competitor Baidu.

    The accompanying spreadsheet can be downloaded from RSF here.

    As a PR practitioner, Imagethief is well acquainted with the PR research study, and RSF is nothing if not masterful at PR. Media love a good study, especially if it smacks of statistical authenticity and touches nicely on a controversial topic. In fact, last week’s issue of the PR industry weekly “The Holmes Report” devoted itself to a condemnation of PR studies, due to the alarming number of shoddy studies and the ease with which statistical illiteracy can be taken advantage of. Naturally, RSF’s study, cursory though it was, has been widely reported upon in the mainstream media, along with RSF’s sharp messages. Wired News carried the following money quotes from Julien Pain, RSF’s “Internet Freedom desk chief”:

    “We simply found out that Yahoo was even worse than its local competitors,” [said Pain]. “Google.cn is censored, but it’s far less than what Yahoo does.”

    ***

    “Yahoo has absolutely no respect for freedom of information,” Pain said.

    Ouch. In fact, that’s probably not true. The guys at Yahoo probably have a lot of respect for freedom of information, and they’re probably wondering how they, a bunch of well-meaning California nerds and one ex-Hollywood mogul, got themselves into this situation and how they can get themselves out of it with minimal damage . However they’re not communicating any of that doubt to the media, who have been resolutely stonewalled in their attempts to secure comment on this report from Yahoo. A scan of Yahoo’s press releases and media information shows no acknowledgment that this report exists at all. For a company that is all about new media, they seem pretty blind to the consequences that not engaging with their plugged-in audience about this issue may have on them. Have a look at the 1300 link cloud for Yahoo+China on Yahoo-owned Delicious.

    Just because the study is cursory and shallow doesn’t necessarily mean it is wrong. Rebecca MacKinnon has done a long and interesting post examining RSF’s results and attempting, with some success, to replicate them. She supports RSF’s overall conclusions, and makes an important point which strikes at the justification that the US Internet companies and even I have wielded in support of their continued presence in China:

    This issue of who is responsible for the loss of service problem, however, does not detract from RSF’s clear and in my view correct point, which is that the Chinese user is probably no better off with Yahoo! being in China than if it ceased operating there.

    If Yahoo! is going to keep on like this, they might as well just change the name of their Chinese service to that of their Chinese partner Alibaba,which now runs Yahoo! China anyway. Then at least they’d be a bit more honest with Chinese users about what they really are.

    More seriously though, the biggest concern is that according to my sources in the industry, Google and MSN are feeling a lot of pressure from Chinese authorities to be just like Yahoo! China. Employees of certain competitors do not hesitate to tattle on Google and MSN in order to gain competitive advantage. So the point is this: Unless companies band together and push back against Chinese government censorship pressure, it’s going to become a very rapid race to the bottom.

    The emphasis above is mine. As compelling as Rebecca’s point is, there is a weakness in suggesting that the main competitive benefit that overseas search engines offer Chinese users is access to controversial information censored by the Chinese government. That is counter to how the vast majority of Chinese surfers will use these services. It also assumes that the search engines are equal in all other respects which, as any user of search engines knows, is simply not the case. A Chinese user who is researching a completely mundane topic may still find that Google’s Chinese service or Yahoo China provides more relevant results than Baidu or Sohu or another Chinese search engine. So far, US Internet companies have been scrupulous in not suggesting that their prime benefit to Chinese users is access to controversial material, a move that would likely be poorly received by the Chinese government. But nor have they done a good job of articulating what benefits theydo bring to Chinese users. Combined with their failure to adequately address the moral conundrum of operating in China –as opposed to the legal conundrum, which has been beaten to death– they have left a nifty vacuum for for their detractors to fill. They do not, nor have they ever, controlled this debate.

    That aside, Rebecca is bang-on in suggesting that Yahoo China might be more honest if they changed their name to Alibaba Search. This cuts to the heart of Yahoo’s problem in China: it doesn’t actually own or control Yahoo China. Rather, it owns 40% of Chinese Internet company Alibaba, which it bought as part of a deal widely interpreted as paying Alibaba to take the failing Yahoo China portal off their hands. Right now that is looking like the worst billion dollars they ever spent.

    Let’s be clear: Alibaba is not evil. It’s a perfectly fine Chinese technology company run by a flamboyant Chinese entrepreneur, Jack Ma. The company does nothing sinister (at least, not that I am aware of). It simply operates the way it has to as a Chinese company subject to Chinese laws. Although it is now based in Hong Kong, it was founded in Hangzhou, Mr. Ma is Chinese and its pedigree remains thoroughly Chinese. Although some aspects of the business are international, including the English language version of its namesake trading portal, most of its services are China oriented and most of its success comes from China.

    The original Yahoo press release announcing the deal with Alibaba makes heartbreaking reading in retrospect. So much optimism. It also suggests why Yahoo Corp will continue to have problems with Yahoo China. Yahoo Corp owns 40% of Alibaba, with 35% voting rights (a minority, it scarce needs be pointed out). Yahoo holds one of four board seats, against two from Alibaba and one from Softbank. Essentially, they’ve surrendered management of their brand in China to an organization over which they have little control, and which has, in turn, little stake in what happens to the Yahoo brand everywhere else in the world. Yahoo China is a bit player in the China portal scene to begin with, and –taking my colleagues as a sample– your average Chinese Internet user is completely inured to outrage over Internet censorship, which is seen as an essentially normal part of government function and a minor inconvenience to be dealt with as best as possible. (This also raises the interesting question of how the role of journalists is perceived in Chinese society, and how that perception differs from the the Western “fourth estate” role that is at the core of RSF’s mission and assumptions. But that’s a topic for another time. For the record, I’m a fan of the “fourth estate” approach.)

    As for Mr. Ma’s personal stake in Yahoo’s PR problems, an acquaintance of mine, a seasoned Chinese PR pro with long experience in the China technology industry, summed up the situation thus: “Jack Ma’s baby is Alibaba. He doesn’t give a shit about Yahoo’s problems in the United States.” It’s hard to know how true that is without being able to peer into Jack Ma’s skull (a privilege I’ve not been afforded), but it’s certainly believable.  But what’s definitely true is that the average western Internet user doesn’t know or care about the ownership and control structure of Yahoo China. For them, as for RSF, the Yahoo brand is monolithic. Yahoo’s transgressions in China are Yahoo’s troubles globally.

    So what is Yahoo to do?

    What if?
    Last week I had lunch with another China PR pro from a competing company. As you do in these situations, when the Diet Coke begin to flow and tongues loosen, we got onto the topic of US Internet companies’ travails in China. We talked a bit about Sergei Brin’srecent woolgathering about whether Google had made the right decision in going with Google.cn. In the course of the discussion my dining companion suggested that Google ought to follow through on Brin’s statement, close Google.cn and tell American and European audiences that it had been a mistake to compromise their principles to enter China. A retreat, yes, but one that might boost their brand significantly overseas at the debatable cost of the business opportunity for them in China. (Like all other US Internet brands in China, Google does not lead its segment. eBay, Yahoo China and MSN China are similarly second best or also-rans in their respective spaces.)

    Let’s transplant that discussion to Yahoo. What if Yahoo simply kissed-off China? I am not a financial expert, I’m a spin doctor, so take all the following with a grain of salt. Yahoo would have to divest themselves completely of their stake in Alibaba, or announce their intentions to do so within the limits of their contractual obligations. Alibaba isn’t publicly traded, so this would mean finding a private equity buyer or buyers willing to spend probably less than what Yahoo paid to take the stake off their hands (they’d smell a distressed sale) . Alibaba already returned Yahoo’s capital to shareholders, so, although Mr. Ma may be the largest shareholder and, thus, the largest beneficiary of that distribution, Alibaba itself might not be able to buy the stake back unless they took on debt to do it. Yahoo’s ability to sell on their Alibaba stake might also be subject to the approval of Alibaba’s majority shareholders, which could complicate things. But an announcement of intent could be the first step.

    Part of the deal would have to be that Alibaba drop the “Yahoo” brand name from the China portal. Since, despite its struggles in the China market, there is perceived value to the Yahoo name they would probably be able to wring some extra concessions from Yahoo. Forget for a moment that Yahoo essentially paid Alibaba to take over Yahoo China — that wouldn’t matter any more. Yes, Yahoo would pay to get in and pay to get out. That’s price of not seeing this coming. Yahoo would officially withdraw from China and close their China rep office, if they still have one. They would maintain Yahoo Hong Kong and a simplified Chinese site hosted offshore and carrying the full contents of Yahoo’s index. If the Chinese government chooses to block it, so be it.

    Yahoo’s management –by which I mean the founders and the CEO– would also have to publicly explain their decision in terms of values, and what role they see for Yahoo in society. They would also have to review their operating policies in less visible cases of censorship around the world (although a quick glance at the map shows few other Yahoo locations likely to be as problematic as China). It would be a hard climb-down, but necessary.

    As part of this, they could create and publicize a clear manifesto of what conditions Yahoo will operate and offer its services under, and what position it takes with regard to Internet censorship. Ideally, these would be clear and uncompromising. I notice that there is nothing of the sort on Yahoo’s “core values” statement.

    What would Yahoo lose? 40% of Alibaba at the cost of a few hundred million. Not chump change, but probably not lethal for a company that has bought Flickr, Delicious and such in in the past year and that had nearly four billion in the bank at the end of Q1. They’d also say goodbye to a China market in which, let’s face it, they were destined to be a bit player for some time to come. Possibly forever.

    What would they gain? An end to these brand-scarring attacks from RSF and other NGOs, a chance to climb back on the moral high horse and to claim to have set an example for other Internet firms. A chance to remind everyone, under the banner of the Yahoo brand, of what is best about the Internet and what it can bring to people. A chance to show that there are limits to the compromises they are willing to make. A chance to take back control of this issue and make Yahoo the visible advocate for an uncensored Internet. So, what is their brand worth to them?

    As further mental exercise, imagine if all the US Internet companies operating in China did the same thing. It would be a shocking public rebuke to a Chinese government that is increasingly image conscious in the run up to their 2008 coming-out party. It would be a reminder that if China really wants to be an enduring International business power, it will have to think about what global integration means in terms of access to information. The Chinese government would not, of course, be expected to make any accommodation for the moral qualms of troublesome foreign Internet firms. But as the Internet becomes an increasingly important tool for doing business it would have to ponder the level of inconvenience it is willing to foist on international businesses that are used to doing business in China much as they would in any other country. (One other thing that my lunch companion and I discussed was the theoretical possibility of Google setting up a paid “premium” service for business customers in China, operating from a separate, private URL and providing full, uncensored access to Google’s services. Think of it as the poor man’s Factiva.)

    Back to reality
    Nothing on the scale of what I have suggested will ever happen. Time to put the comics away and come back to reality. We live in a world of compromise, and businesses are master compromisers. That’s one reason why PR people are seldom out of work. Any company that did what I suggested above could expect to find itself banned from China for the foreseeable future. In Microsoft’s case, this might extend to their bread-and-butter software sales, which are looking up in China after several dismal years. The China market still glitters too much for Internet firms to write it off, and most are willing to bend their principles in the name of grabbing a handful of that glitter.

    But one firm that has found itself back-footed for months, and which has increasingly little to lose and much to gain, might still consider it.

    Disclaimers
    Imagethief does not service any American Internet firms that operate in China.

    Imagethief has generally been a supporter of US Internet firms entering China, even considering the compromises they have to make. His oft-stated belief is that it is better for them to be here than not, and that more choice is always good. On the other hand, he is not averse to reviewing that stand from time to time.

  • Coffee, tea or bleeding ears?

    With the exception of the Americans, who are in a league of their own for depersonalized airborne misery, the Chinese have done more than any other civilization to make flying as much like riding a bus as possible.

    Today’s flight, a zippy little transit between Shanghai and Guangzhou, shows how. The person sitting in front of me had his seat fully reclined and was snoring loudly while we were still on the taxiway. I briefly entertained thoughts of reaching over the top of his seat and smacking him hard on the top of the head, but I don’t know how the Chinese authorities react to cases of laowai air rage.

    But there is another thing that really drives home the bus-like nature of this flight: the in-flight movie. Anyone who has ever ridden a long-distance bus in Asia will be familiar with the bus-movie. Most Asian busses have a video screen mounted at the front of the aisle and a VCD player somewhere around the dashboard.  Moments after the journey begins the TV will be fired up and you’ll be gifted with the very latest in Hong Kong, Chinese or Bollywood output, depending upon which country you are in. (I recently got Bollywood dubbed in Mandarin on a ride between Urumqi and Turpan in west China, so the national rules aren’t ironclad.)

    Busses have loud diesel engines and appalling road noise, but don’t usually have headphones. Thus, the sound will be cranked loud enough to enable people sitting in the car behind you to hear the movie. Aside from reducing road safety, that will overdrive the already blown speakers and ensure that painful, unintelligible booming and gargling noises pummel your years for the duration of the drive. If god is against you—and if you’re taking the bus that’s a given—then the picture will suck too. So you’ll try to read, but that will prove nearly impossible under the aural assault, and eventually you’ll lapse into catatonia go psychotic depending upon your individual temperament.

    On many airplanes you can count upon having headphones available for the in-flight movie. But not on China Southern flight 3532 from Shanghai to Guangzhou. They’re showing some generic romantic comedy, all shrill female voices and goofy, galumphing men. The sound is being piped over the 737’s PA system. In true Asian bus style, it has been cranked to be audible over the sound of two jet engines, wind noise, and the nonstop rumble coming from the snore-a-holic in the seat in front of me. There is no escape.

    Oddly enough, taxis have a similar syndrome. In Beijing, most of them don’t have video screens (although, depressingly, a few do). However every taxi driver in Beijing seems to think that the first thing any foreigner wants to do once he is comfortable in the back seat is catch up on the latest radio xiangsheng act. If you’re traveling with a companion the driver will courteously turn the radio up extra loud to ensure that you can hear thexiangsheng over your conversation (it’s the only explanation I can think of).

    My Chinese isn’t good enough or fast enough to understand xiangsheng, but I can usually pick out some words and phrases. That means I get to spend my entire cab ride listening to something that sounds like this:

    甲：和谐是建立在团结的基础上的，my sister 对一个家庭、组织、团体和国家来说，如果不团结或者不够团结，自然也就难以达到和谐，生活于其间的人们也就不能感受到幸福。
    亿：由于社会中存在着困难人群，他们需要其他人的关怀和帮助，仁爱伦理要求人们在力所能及的情况下，给这些人以物质和精神上的支持 your sister?
    甲：又由于一个人在其人生旅途中难免会遇到这样那样的困难或窘境，my sister and a donkey 因而互助是对所有人都有益的道德行为。
    亿：为了实现友爱、安定、有序和公平的和谐社会，需要全体人民大力弘扬团结互助的优良美德 who’s donkey?
    甲：团结互助鼓励合作互利 my sister。有人认为，在市场经济条件下，追求个人利益就很难讲道德，只要能够获得个人利益，donkey 就可以不考虑手段是否正当 with a carrot。
    亿：社会上存在的损人利己现象，与这样的思想认识有密切的关系 with a donkey?
    甲：人与人的关系反映着一定的利益关系，虽然个人获得正当和合理的利益需求是不可剥夺的权利 vaseline，但是，这里存在着如何正确处理人与人利益关系的大问题‭ ‬fucking enormous carrot。
    亿：现代市场经济倡导竞争，your sister 但竞争不是一方完全得利，另一方完全受损，更不是用损人的方式来利己 bitch whore of all China。
    甲：Damn straight 真正的竞争应该是参与竞争的各方都获得其应得的利益 had to get a new donkey。

    That’s entertainment.

    Meanwhile, here I am on the plane, listening to an inescapable, donkey-free romantic comedy. The guys across the aisle are having a six-man party in a space designed for three people, and speaking loudly enough to compete with the movie. The man sitting behind me has just thoughtfully reached forward to close my window shade, in case the daylight is distracting me from my writing one must presume. What’s that I feel coming over me? Is it catatonia or psychosis? Check tomorrow’s Guangzhou newspapers to find the answer.

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