Following the famous incident of the shoe thrower targeting former US president George W. Bush during a visit to Baghdad in December, it was Chinese Premier Wen Jiabao’s (溫家寶) turn last week to find himself in the crosshairs while giving a speech at Cambridge University in the UK.
Martin Jahnke, a 27-year-old pathology student at the university, allegedly aimed rubber at Wen to express his outrage that the academic institution would “prostitute itself with this dictator here.”
Despite the outrage that this incident sparked and initial attempts by Beijing to cover it up, the failed attack circulated on the Internet and, for once, was accessible in China.
Yesterday, a remarkably forgiving Wen called on Cambridge not to expel Jahnke, adding that his continued education would allow him to gain a better understanding of the “real and developing China.”
This gentle departure was somewhat out of character for a leadership that has cracked down on its people, or lashed out at foreign governments, for far less. For once, a senior Chinese Communist Party (CCP) official had faced physical violence, but rather than threatening retaliation or rehashing the claim that the feelings of the Chinese people had been hurt, Beijing turned the other cheek and presented a rational face, which Wen did with humor and dexterity.
There is no question, however, that if the shoe thrower had been Chinese, Tibetan, Uighur or Taiwanese, and the attack had occurred on Chinese soil, Wen and his government would have been far less forgiving. Luckily for Jahnke, he was on British soil — and Beijing saw in his salvo an opportunity to turn a slight to its advantage.
What better in times of economic hardship, with millions of Chinese out of work and the state anticipating a year of greater social instability, than to resuscitate the age-old ally of governments: nationalism? Rather than spark a war of words with Cambridge or London, Beijing chose to take the moral high ground, showing the world that “rational” CCP leaders are far more civilized than the “troublemakers,” the likes of former president Chen Shui-bian (陳水扁) and the odd shoe-thrower — thereby giving Chinese reasons to take pride in their leadership.
As with the accidental bombing by US aircraft of the Chinese embassy in Belgrade during the NATO aerial campaign in 1999, the shoe incident will allow the CCP to spark nationalist sentiment by refocusing public anger and loss of face toward an external agent. Back in 1999, it was the US; this time around, it will be anti-China elements and academic institutions that don’t “get” China.
Ironically, with one shoe, a student who probably wished to “do good” by expressing his displeasure at having a member of a repressive government speak at his university may have given Beijing the break it needed as China awaits intensified social upheaval. One misplaced incident, however warranted it might have been in the mind of the actor, may distract Chinese who otherwise would have focused their energies on criticizing a government that fails to deliver.
The closure of the Strait of Hormuz has sent the vast Asian chemicals industry into a tailspin. Deprived of the likes of Qatari natural gas and Saudi Arabian oil, the region’s fertilizer and plastics plants are slowing production or even shutting down. Everywhere except China, that is. In petrochemicals, China is unique. As well as a traditional industry that uses oil and gas as feedstock, it has parallel output that relies on its abundant domestic coal. Unsurprisingly, India and other regional powers want to copy and paste the Chinese method. This would not be easy — or climate friendly. The
KMT Chairwoman Cheng Li-wun’s (鄭麗文) recent visit to Beijing and her upcoming visit to Washington will serve as a high-level test of her diplomatic mettle. In Beijing, Cheng was received with symbolic gestures, a warm reception, and high-level access. In Washington, she will receive far less pomp and far sharper questions about the KMT’s vision for the future of Taiwan. Her challenge will be to persuade Washington that the KMT’s engagement with China can coexist with strong deterrence. Cheng’s April 7-12 visit to mainland China coincided with an intense period of conflict in Iran. Despite the strategic significance of Cheng’s trip,
History might remember 2026, not 2022, as the year artificial intelligence (AI) truly changed everything. ChatGPT’s launch was a product moment. What is happening now is an anthropological moment: AI is no longer merely answering questions. It is now taking initiative and learning from others to get things done, behaving less like software and more like a colleague. The economic consequence is the rise of the one-person company — a structure anticipated in the 2024 book The Choices Amid Great Changes, which I coauthored. The real target of AI is not labor. It is hierarchy. When AI sharply reduces the cost
US President Donald Trump recently repeated his claim that “Taiwan stole America’s chip industry,” reigniting public debate on the issue. As a former Taiwanese minister of economic affairs and an entrepreneur deeply involved in semiconductor supply chain development, I feel a responsibility to clarify this misunderstanding. From the perspective of global industrial evolution and the economic principle of comparative advantage, such a statement appears overly simplistic and risks obscuring the essence of the issue. The rise of Taiwan’s semiconductor industry was not built on “replacing America,” but rather emerged as a result of countries pursuing different development paths within the
RSS