Report from the Guangzhou Anti-Japan Protests

My friend Seiji Shirane, who teaches at Zhongshan University in Guangzhou, weighs in with this insightful mini-essay on the anti-Japanese protests he saw on Sunday, April 10.

[photo from Epoch Times]

Following yesterday’s public protests in Beijing, an anti-Japanese demonstration was held today in Guangzhou. Chinese students, workers, and families took to the streets in the Tianhe shopping district to protest Japan’s petition to join the UN Security Council, territorial disputes between Japan and China, and the Japanese government’s failure to revise its history textbooks and to stop the prime minister’s annual visit to Yasukuni shrine in commemoration of WWII soldiers.
             From as early as 9am, swarms of extra policemen could be seen in the Tianhe subway station and on the streets, a precautionary measure to prevent riots from getting out of control. In the subway, volunteers ushered groups of students dressed in red shirts and bandanas towards the Tianhe Sports Center, where the protest would begin. People were dressed up as if they were fans going to a soccer game, wearing national colors, waving the Chinese flag, and carrying bags of water bottles and snacks to last them through the event.
            As groups gathered in the subway, I saw Chinese girls jumping up and down in excitement as if they were heading to a music concert to see their favorite star. People passed out anti-Japanese t-shirts and took out their ready-made signs, written both in Chinese and English, for foreigners who might not read Chinese characters. “We won’t stop hating the Japanese until the last one dies.” “Boycott Japanese goods to prevent Japan from planning another military invasion.”
            Starting from the Tianhe shopping mall, hundreds of Chinese protests walked along the main Tianhe road. We passed bystanders who watched with curiosity; a few took pictures. From the start, the noise was deafening. Although people were walking in the middle of the road, we could have been inside a stadium or concert hall. Organizers in the front would start a cheer, alternating between “Chinese patrioism” (Aiguo Zhuyi) and anti-Japanese phrases that I couldn’t quite understand. Some people would yell a random phrase and others would repeat it—I don’t know how Chinese people learned how to yell so loud and for so long. In between songs and slogans, people would clap and cheer as if China had just scored a goal.
            Standing in the crowd, what struck me was not the hatred or resentment towards Japan. If I hadn’t been able to understand what people were saying, I could have easily mistaken the demonstration for a celebration. While they waved their flags, people were on their cell phones telling their girlfriends to join them at the next intersection. People were running up and down the street, pumping their fists. I passed by two old women on the sidewalk who were clapping their hands and smiling. They could have been cheering on marathon runners. “Yeah, that’s the spirit! Keep going!”
            We passed by two Japanese restaurants a Japanese electronics store (Toshiba). They were obviously closed today. Though police egged the protesters to keep walking, many stopped and threw rocks and water bottles at the stores. Each time something was thrown, huge cheers erupted.
            The police were everyone—on the sidewalks, on the street, in cars. But they were not doing anything to stop or tame the crowd. One policeman took out his video camera and was recording the historical event. Others cheered from their police cars. They did, however, try to keep traffic going. Buses and taxis kept slowing down on the other side of the street to watch the waves of people slowly make their way to the Tianhe police station.
            In front of the gates of the police station, a student placed a stuffed animal on a long pole and raised it high into the air. The stuffed dog had Japanese flags with huge X marks on it. The crowd chanted, “Japanese dog,” as the student and other protestors tore the dog into shreds. Two foreigners, who were standing nearby, were then offered an anti-Japanese t-shirt and Chinese flag. As the Egyptian student raised the Chinese flag, the crowd roared as one protestor rushed over to hold hands with him as if to say, “We are friends in this protest. He is supporting us.” When I later asked him what he thought of the protest, he asked, “Why is it that China hates Japan?” When I explained to him what was going on and asked him why he supported China, he answered, “No real reason. I just live here. Hey, why is your English so good?”
            Whether it was a young couple holding hands, parents on a family outing with their family, or groups of students, what frustrated me was how happy everyone looked. This should have been an angry protest, one where people looked frustrated, hurt, and ready to take revenge. It wasn’t supposed to be an enjoyable gathering. Shopkeepers and waitresses stood outside their stores or waved to us from their widows. The protest no doubt provided them with a break from their monotonous lives of service. But I still couldn’t understand: what were they all smiling about? Were they proud of their country, their people who were marching by the thousands in an obedient, orderly group? Were they amazed by the noise, or did they take aesthetic pleasure in the streams of red?
            The demonstration reminded me of a novella (“Seventeen”) by the Japanese novelist, Kenzaburo Oe. In the story, the high-school protagonist joins a patriotic movement against the prolongation of the US occupation in post-war Japan. The protagonist is an overweight, insecure, lonely student with no sense of direction. By celebrating Japan’s “spiritual glory” and devoting himself to the antiquiated emperor, however, he gains a sense of purpose—he feels useful, important, and part of something larger than him.
            Today’s protest was much more than an expression of hatred. It was a way for people to feel active, hopeful, and united. Rarely do you see taxi-cab drivers cheering on a Chinese student; nor do you often see waitresses smile and wave at businessmen on their day off from work. Everyone, from students to policemen were brought together with a common purpose. The mediocre, overweight student raising his flag with a huge smile on his face could forget his worries about finding a job—today he could pretend to be a hero, helping his country fight against an aggressive nation. The tired businessman could take his mind off work—it  was more important to protest injustice.
            During the entire morning, I did not see a single old man protesting. Aside from the old women who clapped their hands in glee, the old men I saw stood on the sidewalks in silence. That means that those who was protesting had been born after the war: they had never experienced the Japanese occupation nor the massacres (especially if their families came from Guangdong province). They had heard the stories from relatives or read and studied textbooks (authorized by the Chinese government), which hardly can be said to tell the entire truth.
And so few of these demonstrators have ever known a Japanese person; even fewer have been to Japan or been friends with one. Japan is an invisible enemy, one that cannot be seen or touched but has been designated as the country to fight against. In fact, it makes it easier that they cannot see or talk to the enemy. As a one-sided event, the demonstration was not an act of protest—it was an act of patriotism and a celebration of being Chinese. And this is why the Chinese government has been supportive in making such demonstrations public and quite organized.
            It is obviously depressing to watch and hear about these anti-Japanese outbursts. Seventy years have passed since WWII, but Japanese-Chinese relations have improved very little. In my time here in China, I can do very little to convince such protestors to stop hating the Japanese. I can only watch, listen, and learn about how these people think. Few Chinese people want to hear from a “native” Japanese person the brighter sides of Japan. It is up to “native” Americans and Chinese people to do so.
            On the other hand, the prospects of educating people in Japan seem also dim. My grandfather in Tokyo said that protests like today have little impact on Japanese people, even as they watch them on TV. “Japan has apologized and reflected on its past enough. The people here are just thinking, ‘Are the Chinese protesting and telling us to apologize again? That was a thing of the past.’” For one, I don’t think that Japanese people know to what extent Chinese people have been educated to hate Japan. But even if they did know, wouldn’t that make Chinese people seem threatening and irrational to Japanese people?  Educating Japanese people how seemingly minor events (Yasukuni, textbooks, formal apologies) can create such hatred is an obvious answer,! but whether or not they will accept this and put pressure on its government to change any policies is questionable.
            On a personal level, I’m sick of thinking about this topic. Even with close Chinese friends and students, I sometimes think “What’s the point? I should stop talking about it and just enjoy life.” What’s important is that my relationships with Chinese friends and students have not and will not change. Japan’s attempt to join the UN Security Council will not change how they think about me—anti-Japanese sentiment has been around far longer than this issue. Taking on the identify of a Korean on the street so that people won’t smirk and whisper to their neighbor, “He’s Japanese,” is a small price to pay for peace of mind.