Few believed him when Sri Lanka's powerful defence secretary said he required three years to defeat the once invincible Tamil Tiger rebels.
When Gotabaya Rajapaksa made the assertion, the Tamil Tigers, or Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam [LTTE], controlled nearly one third of the country, had a well-organised, ruthless fighting unit, sufficient stocks of heavy weapons, a small navy and a rudimentary air force.
They had no problems of fresh supplies as they had enough resources pouring in from their supporters abroad and through their commercial ventures.
Only a handful of military analysts believed that the rebels could be wiped out completely.
Today, Sri Lanka is among the few nations that can say it has successfully quelled a nearly three-decade insurgency by military means.
The entire rebel-held territory has been captured, huge caches of weapons have been recovered and destroyed, and the entire Tamil Tiger leadership is thought to have been wiped out.
So what led to the military success of a force that had been at the receiving end for many years?
'No ambiguity'
"So many factors have contributed to the success of the Sri Lankan forces. There was a clear aim and mandate from the political level to the official level and to the military level to destroy the LTTE at any cost. There was no ambiguity in that," Gotabaya Rajapaksa told the BBC.
When the current president, his brother Mahinda Rajapaksa, came to power in 2005, he made it clear that he would go all out against the rebels if they were not sincere in peace talks.
Once the peace process failed, he gave the go ahead for the war to his brother and the hard line army commander Gen Sarath Fonseka.
A massive recruitment drive for the armed forces was launched (it increased from about 80,000 to more than 160,000). New weapons, including fighter jets, artillery guns and multi-barrel rocket launchers were bought from countries like China, Pakistan and Russia and new military strategies and tactics were evolved.
"That was the time when the international community was totally disappointed with the rebels because of their insincerity in peace talks. So countries like India and the US gave their tacit support for the all-out offensive against the LTTE," says Sri Lankan analyst DBS Jeyaraj.
Hostilities between the two sides broke out first in Eastern Province in August 2006. After months of intense battles, the government declared it had completely dislodged the rebels from the east.
One of the main reasons for the rebels' eastern debacle was the split in 2004 - when the Tigers' influential eastern commander, Col Karuna, broke away because of differences with the leadership.
"The LTTE could never recover from that. Thousands of fighters went away with Karuna and the LTTE could not recruit fresh cadres from the east, dealing a severe blow to their manpower. They struggled hard to replace fallen cadres in the subsequent northern battle," says Col R Hariharan, former chief of military intelligence of the Indian Peacekeeping Force in Sri Lanka from 1987 to 1990.
It was only a matter of time before the Sri Lankan military launched the second phase of its offensive to recapture the rebel strongholds in the north.
In the meantime, the Sri Lankan navy had also hunted and destroyed many Tamil Tiger supply ships in deep seas, dealing a crucial blow to the rebels.
Battlefield plans
The army also changed its tactics and became better able to cope with the kind of warfare waged by the guerrillas.
Small teams of commandoes were sent behind enemy lines to carry out attacks against rebel leaders and key defence lines.
The military also started to stretch them thin by opening up a number of fronts in the north.
The Tamil Tigers had no answer to the bombing missions by air force jets.
"The rebels never knew about the battlefield plans. We surprised them in many areas. For example, they didn't expect me to capture the strategically important town of Paranthan, near Kilinochchi, by outflanking them," Brig Shavendra Silva, commander of the Sri Lankan army's 58th division, told the BBC in a recent interview from the frontline.
The capture of Paranthan forced the rebels to withdraw from the strategically important Elephant Pass, a small land bridge that connects northern Jaffna peninsula with the rest of the country.
From Paranthan, Sri Lankan security forces battled their way into the Tamil Tiger de-facto capital of Kilinochchi.
The 58th division, which is credited with a series of military successes against the rebels, battled hard to forge ahead from Mannar up to Matalan beach on the eastern coast in Mullaitivu district.
"It was not an easy walk. But we went ahead with a huge momentum and kept our pace and there were clear-cut instructions and leadership from our superiors," Brig Silva said.
But many argue that the military's success has come at an enormous humanitarian cost.
The UN believes that nearly 7,000 civilians may have been killed and 13,000 injured in the conflict since January.
Aid agencies say around 275,000 people have been displaced.
A number of villages and towns have either been damaged or destroyed.
Both the military and the rebels are being accused of gross violations of international humanitarian law. The two sides deny the charges.
"The Sri Lankan military juggernaut cruised ahead despite mounting civilian casualties. The rebels thought the international community, especially neighbouring India, would intervene looking at the civilian suffering and bring about a ceasefire in the final stages. When that did not happen, they ran out of options," says Mr Jeyaraj.
Friday, May 22, 2009
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Varun Gandhi 'misbehaves' with journalists
Controversy is not leaving the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) poster boy Varun Gandhi. Hogging the limelight for sometime for his alleged anti-Muslim speeches, the young Lok Sabha MP is now caught in a row with journalists.
A group of Uttar Pradesh scribes Thursday accused Varun Gandhi, the BJP MP from Pilibhit of "misbehaviour" and sought security from the Pilibhit district administration while covering his programmes.
About 30 journalists from different media houses submitted a memorandum at the district magistrate's office.
"We have asked the district administration to provide security to media persons during programmes of Varun Gandhi," president of Pilibhit Journalist Association Mohan Kumar told IANS.
Kumar alleged that Varun Gandhi misbehaved with some reporters May 19 when they approached him for his comments over the BJP's poor performance in the state.
"Varun got angry and he along with his security personnel even attacked journalists of some TV news channels. Varun also damaged the camera of a TV journalist," Kumar said.
District magistrate Ajay Chauhan said he was yet to receive the memorandum. "From local newspapers I have come to know that Varun Gandhi allegedly manhandled some journalists," Chauhan told IANS.
"We will take steps accordingly after going through the memorandum," he added.
A group of Uttar Pradesh scribes Thursday accused Varun Gandhi, the BJP MP from Pilibhit of "misbehaviour" and sought security from the Pilibhit district administration while covering his programmes.
About 30 journalists from different media houses submitted a memorandum at the district magistrate's office.
"We have asked the district administration to provide security to media persons during programmes of Varun Gandhi," president of Pilibhit Journalist Association Mohan Kumar told IANS.
Kumar alleged that Varun Gandhi misbehaved with some reporters May 19 when they approached him for his comments over the BJP's poor performance in the state.
"Varun got angry and he along with his security personnel even attacked journalists of some TV news channels. Varun also damaged the camera of a TV journalist," Kumar said.
District magistrate Ajay Chauhan said he was yet to receive the memorandum. "From local newspapers I have come to know that Varun Gandhi allegedly manhandled some journalists," Chauhan told IANS.
"We will take steps accordingly after going through the memorandum," he added.
Two held for corporate blackmail
Two commoners tried to blackmail a Rs 150,771-crore corporate giant. They demanded Rs 50 lakh – Rs 10 lakh of that as initial payment.
The deal they offered in exchange: an affidavit in Mumbai High Court against Reliance Industries Ltd’s merger with Reliance Petro-leum Ltd would be withdrawn.
Jayendra Shah and Dilip Motwani are now in police custody.
The Reliance Group flagship, RIL, is India’s largest private sector enterprise and a Fortune Global 500 company.
An RIL spokesman told HT, “As this is corporate blackmailing, we filed a police complaint. They have arrested these two people.”
The police also suspect the two are not petty fortune hunters. Shah used to say during his threat calls to RIL officials that as he was assigned by some Mumbai-based people, he would need to consult them before withdrawing the petition.
“It seems a perfectly worked-out game plan. First file a petition, follow it up with letters to the Registrar of Companies and then leak the details to the media,” said the RIL spokesman. “Somebody is definitely trying to malign the group.”
The duo was produced in a local court and remanded to two-day police custody.
The deal they offered in exchange: an affidavit in Mumbai High Court against Reliance Industries Ltd’s merger with Reliance Petro-leum Ltd would be withdrawn.
Jayendra Shah and Dilip Motwani are now in police custody.
The Reliance Group flagship, RIL, is India’s largest private sector enterprise and a Fortune Global 500 company.
An RIL spokesman told HT, “As this is corporate blackmailing, we filed a police complaint. They have arrested these two people.”
The police also suspect the two are not petty fortune hunters. Shah used to say during his threat calls to RIL officials that as he was assigned by some Mumbai-based people, he would need to consult them before withdrawing the petition.
“It seems a perfectly worked-out game plan. First file a petition, follow it up with letters to the Registrar of Companies and then leak the details to the media,” said the RIL spokesman. “Somebody is definitely trying to malign the group.”
The duo was produced in a local court and remanded to two-day police custody.
'Dowager's hump' may bode early death
Technically, it's called hyperkyphosis; untechnically, it's called dowager's hump.
Whatever you call the condition -- an excessive forward curve of the upper spine often seen in elderly women -- it appears to be connected to a higher rate of earlier death in those who also have vertebral fractures.
In a study published in the May 19 issue of Annals of Internal Medicine, researchers at UCLA found that the greater the curvature, the higher the risk of death within the study period. This held true regardless of age, the problems caused by the basic spinal osteoporosis or the severity of the fractures.
Here's the release from UCLA;
the abstract from the journal;
basic information about the condition from osteopenia3.com;
and a blog, Dowagers Humps, that though not especially active, does appear to target folks looking for practical solutions and support.
As for what women can do to improve their quality of life, a small unrelated pilot study, also from UCLA and published in the American Journal of Public Health a couple of years ago, found that yoga might help produce better posture in women with hyperkyphosis.
Those researchers said such improvements could have included "increased strength and flexibility (attested to by improvements in physical function measures) and heightened attention to alignment (as reflected in women’s diary entries)."
Whatever you call the condition -- an excessive forward curve of the upper spine often seen in elderly women -- it appears to be connected to a higher rate of earlier death in those who also have vertebral fractures.
In a study published in the May 19 issue of Annals of Internal Medicine, researchers at UCLA found that the greater the curvature, the higher the risk of death within the study period. This held true regardless of age, the problems caused by the basic spinal osteoporosis or the severity of the fractures.
Here's the release from UCLA;
the abstract from the journal;
basic information about the condition from osteopenia3.com;
and a blog, Dowagers Humps, that though not especially active, does appear to target folks looking for practical solutions and support.
As for what women can do to improve their quality of life, a small unrelated pilot study, also from UCLA and published in the American Journal of Public Health a couple of years ago, found that yoga might help produce better posture in women with hyperkyphosis.
Those researchers said such improvements could have included "increased strength and flexibility (attested to by improvements in physical function measures) and heightened attention to alignment (as reflected in women’s diary entries)."
Two American 17-year-olds summit Everest, a third turns back
Two out of three 17-year-olds is not bad for Mt. Everest. In fact, it's an outstanding ratio.
Earlier this week, Johnny Collinson of Snowbird, Utah, made it to the top of the world's tallest peak, becoming the first Westerner to do so. A day later, Johnny Strange of Malibu reached the summit. Their view from 29,035 feet: absolutely stunning.
More recently, though, Erica Dohring of Paradise Valley, Arizona, abandoned her quest during what was to be the summit push.
This dispatch from Rainier Mountaineering team member Dave Hahn: "... Subtly at first, and then a bit more obviously as we came into our first rest break, Erica’s pace began to falter and things didn’t seem quite so easy any longer. This was perplexing at first, since conditions were perfect, the terrain was relatively easy and Erica’s health was excellent.
"As planned at this point of the climb, where the [Khumbu] Icefall steepens and the avalanche hazard to a group increases, I asked Seth, Melissa and Kent, along with Ang Kaji, to go slowly ahead. We’d stay in contact by radio. Erica and I finished our rest and moved upward, but by then it had become clear that Erica was losing confidence in her ability to climb the mountain
"Such moods come and go for climbers and I hoped this one would go soon. We determined to climb on up through the “Popcorn” section of the glacier and to reevaluate our situation at the Icefall’s midpoint. Through the Corn, I was happy to see that Erica’s strength and skills were intact… but clearly she had the weight of the world on her shoulders with some heavy decision-making going on. Her million dark thoughts were spawning a hundred or so in my own less nimble mind.
"I stifled the urge to `argue' Erica into an Everest summit attempt as we walked. I wouldn’t do such a thing for an adult… I certainly couldn’t begin anything of the sort for a seventeen-year-old. Everest is too dangerous a game… I’ve seen too many people die here."
Hahn concluded that the mountain had simply become too big for Dohring, and that she should be proud for trying rather than ashamed for turning back. She has vowed to return, though, and someday, most likely, she too will enjoy that splendid view.
Earlier this week, Johnny Collinson of Snowbird, Utah, made it to the top of the world's tallest peak, becoming the first Westerner to do so. A day later, Johnny Strange of Malibu reached the summit. Their view from 29,035 feet: absolutely stunning.
More recently, though, Erica Dohring of Paradise Valley, Arizona, abandoned her quest during what was to be the summit push.
This dispatch from Rainier Mountaineering team member Dave Hahn: "... Subtly at first, and then a bit more obviously as we came into our first rest break, Erica’s pace began to falter and things didn’t seem quite so easy any longer. This was perplexing at first, since conditions were perfect, the terrain was relatively easy and Erica’s health was excellent.
"As planned at this point of the climb, where the [Khumbu] Icefall steepens and the avalanche hazard to a group increases, I asked Seth, Melissa and Kent, along with Ang Kaji, to go slowly ahead. We’d stay in contact by radio. Erica and I finished our rest and moved upward, but by then it had become clear that Erica was losing confidence in her ability to climb the mountain
"Such moods come and go for climbers and I hoped this one would go soon. We determined to climb on up through the “Popcorn” section of the glacier and to reevaluate our situation at the Icefall’s midpoint. Through the Corn, I was happy to see that Erica’s strength and skills were intact… but clearly she had the weight of the world on her shoulders with some heavy decision-making going on. Her million dark thoughts were spawning a hundred or so in my own less nimble mind.
"I stifled the urge to `argue' Erica into an Everest summit attempt as we walked. I wouldn’t do such a thing for an adult… I certainly couldn’t begin anything of the sort for a seventeen-year-old. Everest is too dangerous a game… I’ve seen too many people die here."
Hahn concluded that the mountain had simply become too big for Dohring, and that she should be proud for trying rather than ashamed for turning back. She has vowed to return, though, and someday, most likely, she too will enjoy that splendid view.
K. Pattabhi Jois, leading teacher of Ashtanga yoga, dies at 94
Sri K. Pattabhi Jois, the leading teacher of Ashtanga yoga who is credited with bringing the practice to a mass audience and introducing it to the West, has died. He was 94.
Jois died Monday at his home in Mysore, India, after a short illness, the Press Trust of India news agency reported.
Considered one of the most physically demanding of yoga practices, Ashtanga presents six increasingly challenging sequences of poses. A student must show proficiency in one sequence before going on to the next. Only a small number of practitioners have achieved every level.
"The goal of yoga is to create a unity of mind, body and spirit, and each system has a different quiver of tools to get there," said David Swenson of Austin, Texas, who studied with Jois for more than 34 years and has written books and produced videos on the subject. "Some have likened it to meditation in motion."
Swenson described Ashtanga as "an ancient system that involves sequences of movement combined with breath."
"It is similar in some respects to tai chi in that it involves a set sequence of movement that you learn and practice for the rest of your life. Ashtanga has these different levels, six sequences; it is through the repetition of study that the magic [from within] is forced to arise," Swenson said.
Jois, known to his disciples as Guruji, or respected teacher, taught Ashtanga for more than 75 years after studying with Sri T. Krishnamacharya, who had learned the practice from his guru in Tibet, Yogeshwara Ramamohan Brahmachari.
According to a biography on his website, Jois was born in July 1915 in the village of Kowshika in India's Karnataka state. His father was an astrologer and priest. At age 12, Jois attended a yoga demonstration conducted by Krishnamacharya and asked him to be his teacher.
Teacher and student ended up in Mysore, where Jois had gone to study Sanskrit. Jois taught yoga at Maharaja's Sanskrit College for many years and later started the Ashtanga Yoga Research Institute, which is in Mysore.
In 1958, he wrote his only book on yoga, "Yoga Mala," which was published in India in 1962 but didn't find an English-language publisher until 1999.
His yoga classes drew a relatively small number of students until 1964, when Andre Van Lysbeth, a Belgian citizen, became the first Westerner to study with Jois in Mysore.
The first American students were Norman Allen and David Williams, who studied with Jois in the late 1960s and early '70s. In 1975, Williams and another early student, Nancy Gilgoff, brought Jois to Encinitas in northern San Diego County to teach. His four-month stay there is considered by many to be the true beginning of the practice of Ashtanga yoga in the United States.
Over the next 20 years, Jois taught widely in this country and returned frequently to Encinitas. It was not uncommon for hundreds of students to show up for his classes. Ashtanga has become popular among celebrities, with Sting, Madonna and Gwyneth Paltrow among its practitioners.
Jois is survived by his son Manju, daughter Saraswathi Rangaswamy and two grandchildren, all of whom are yoga teachers.
Jois' funeral took place Tuesday. A memorial service is scheduled for May 31 in Mysore. According to Swenson, it will be attended by practitioners from all over the world.
"There is pain in losing him, as one would feel with a family member, but joy and revelation in the time we spent with him," Swenson said
Jois died Monday at his home in Mysore, India, after a short illness, the Press Trust of India news agency reported.
Considered one of the most physically demanding of yoga practices, Ashtanga presents six increasingly challenging sequences of poses. A student must show proficiency in one sequence before going on to the next. Only a small number of practitioners have achieved every level.
"The goal of yoga is to create a unity of mind, body and spirit, and each system has a different quiver of tools to get there," said David Swenson of Austin, Texas, who studied with Jois for more than 34 years and has written books and produced videos on the subject. "Some have likened it to meditation in motion."
Swenson described Ashtanga as "an ancient system that involves sequences of movement combined with breath."
"It is similar in some respects to tai chi in that it involves a set sequence of movement that you learn and practice for the rest of your life. Ashtanga has these different levels, six sequences; it is through the repetition of study that the magic [from within] is forced to arise," Swenson said.
Jois, known to his disciples as Guruji, or respected teacher, taught Ashtanga for more than 75 years after studying with Sri T. Krishnamacharya, who had learned the practice from his guru in Tibet, Yogeshwara Ramamohan Brahmachari.
According to a biography on his website, Jois was born in July 1915 in the village of Kowshika in India's Karnataka state. His father was an astrologer and priest. At age 12, Jois attended a yoga demonstration conducted by Krishnamacharya and asked him to be his teacher.
Teacher and student ended up in Mysore, where Jois had gone to study Sanskrit. Jois taught yoga at Maharaja's Sanskrit College for many years and later started the Ashtanga Yoga Research Institute, which is in Mysore.
In 1958, he wrote his only book on yoga, "Yoga Mala," which was published in India in 1962 but didn't find an English-language publisher until 1999.
His yoga classes drew a relatively small number of students until 1964, when Andre Van Lysbeth, a Belgian citizen, became the first Westerner to study with Jois in Mysore.
The first American students were Norman Allen and David Williams, who studied with Jois in the late 1960s and early '70s. In 1975, Williams and another early student, Nancy Gilgoff, brought Jois to Encinitas in northern San Diego County to teach. His four-month stay there is considered by many to be the true beginning of the practice of Ashtanga yoga in the United States.
Over the next 20 years, Jois taught widely in this country and returned frequently to Encinitas. It was not uncommon for hundreds of students to show up for his classes. Ashtanga has become popular among celebrities, with Sting, Madonna and Gwyneth Paltrow among its practitioners.
Jois is survived by his son Manju, daughter Saraswathi Rangaswamy and two grandchildren, all of whom are yoga teachers.
Jois' funeral took place Tuesday. A memorial service is scheduled for May 31 in Mysore. According to Swenson, it will be attended by practitioners from all over the world.
"There is pain in losing him, as one would feel with a family member, but joy and revelation in the time we spent with him," Swenson said
Tiananmen Now Seems Distant to China’s Students
On April 30, the cellphones of the 32,630 students at Peking University, a genteel institution widely regarded as one of China’s top universities, buzzed with a text message from the school administration. The note warned students to “pay attention to your speech and behavior” on Youth Day because of a “particularly complex” situation.
Few students had to puzzle over the meaning. Youth Day, on May 4, commemorates a 1919 student protest against foreign imperialism and China’s weakness in resisting it. Seventy years later, in 1989, students from Peking University were again massing in the center of Beijing, demanding democracy. The student movement shook the ruling Communist Party to its core and ended with a military crackdown and hundreds of deaths.
And if a student today proposed a pro-democracy protest?
“People would think he was insane,” said one Peking University history major in a recent interview. “You know where the line is drawn. You can think, maybe talk, think about the events of 1989. You just cannot do something that will have any public influence. Everybody knows that.”
Most students also appear to accept it. For 20 years, China’s government has made it abundantly clear that students and professors should stick to the books and stay out of the streets. Students today describe 1989 as almost a historical blip, a moment too extreme and traumatic ever to repeat.
But whether democracy still inspires them is a more complex question.
Interviews with students and teachers at Peking University, as with experts on Chinese society here and abroad, draw a layered portrait of today’s students: disinclined to protest, but also lacking the economic grievances that helped ignite protests in 1989; proud of China’s achievements and flocking to the Communist Party, but seldom driven by ideology.
They are disturbed by government corruption and censorship and tremendously eager to study in the West, especially the United States. And despite the government’s attempts to wipe the 1989 protests from Chinese history, some have found out for themselves what happened. All but one of eight Peking University students interviewed for this article, for instance, said they had managed to download an acclaimed — and banned — documentary on the Tiananmen protests and view it in their dorm rooms.
“There is a stereotypical view that students are not interested in democracy. I don’t buy it,” Cheng Li, research director of the China Center at the Brookings Institution, said in an interview. “At the very least, they have a mixed opinion of the Communist Party.”
Xia Yeliang, a Peking University economics professor, said many students supported democracy in theory but did not want to risk their futures to fight for it. Students joke that they will get involved once pro-democracy forces gather steam, he said. “A rather high percentage of students are not interested in politics,” he said. “They say, ‘We know this is a good thing, but what relation does it have to us?’ They think about their personal affairs, how to get a job, how to go abroad.”
Even the mouthpiece of the Communist Party, People’s Daily, laments a general lack of idealism on campus. “Many university students are clearly very utilitarian in their thinking,” People’s Forum, a magazine published by People’s Daily, complained this month after a conducting a student survey. “Everything is based on ‘whether or not it is useful to me,’ ” the magazine said.
In fact, today’s students have more to lose than did protesters 20 years ago. Then, university students believed that their futures were endangered by a soaring inflation rate of 28 percent, rampant government corruption and shrinking job prospects, according to a 2001 book on the Tiananmen movement by Dingxin Zhao, a University of Chicago sociology professor. Many had lost hope in the government’s economic reforms.
Today, even students who criticize Communist rule are gratified by China’s great strides. “Sometimes we don’t like the policies of our government,” said Wang Yongli, a fourth-year physics major. “But on the other hand, nowadays we are proud of the country and the government because they have moved so many people to a better life.”
The Communist Party is careful to cultivate this image, while seeking to defuse longings for democracy by vowing to govern “democratically.”
Officials say they oppose Western-style multiparty democracy as wrong for China, but embrace the idea of consultation, public review and balloting under party rule. China will continue to open up the political system, step by step, as the country becomes wealthier and more stable, party officials promise.
1 2 Some China analysts suggest that student discontent could rise if the current economic crisis clouds their futures. China sends nine times as many students to institutions of higher education now as it did in 1989, and competition for good jobs is fierce. Nearly one in four graduates last year could not find work, Xinhua, the state-run news agency, reported.
But since 1989, Communist Party leaders have realized they ignore youth at their peril. The government is now trying to ease job anxieties with training programs and incentives for graduates to work in rural areas. “If you are worried, then I am more worried than you,” Prime Minister Wen Jiabao told one student group in December.
The Communist Party has also ratcheted up recruitment and political education, making college students the party’s fastest-growing segment, according to Susan L. Shirk, a political science professor at the University of California, San Diego. More than 8 percent of all students were party members in 2007, compared with less than 1 percent in 1989. At elite institutions like Peking University, percentages are much higher.
Some of those students echo the party’s line that Western-style democracy does not suit China. “China has a large population, and education has a long way to go,” said Song Chao, a Peking University ecology major. “Considering that, we need to put some regulations on people. The major task for China now is development.”
Others hope to nudge the party toward reform. “Of course, if we could become a democratic society, we would like that,” said another history major and party aspirant. “But this is not something you can achieve by radical means. What if there is chaos?”
But a majority of students seek party membership not as an ideological statement but rather as a means to a better job, the survey published by People’s Forum concluded. At Peking University, many students say they nap through the university’s much mocked, though mandatory, political thought classes. “Even the teachers know they are teaching rubbish,” one senior said.
Most students will make such statements only anonymously because government control of campus speech remains tight. Professors say some students are assigned to report to the administration if they hear teachers adopting antigovernment or antiparty lines. Most students interviewed for this article did not want to be identified, saying their comments might be negatively noted in their personal files.
Five years ago, the university shut down a computer bulletin board — a vibrant hub of information for 300,000 users — after the central government’s education minister complained that it did not always reflect “the right view.” Students say they are careful about what they write on the new, restricted and monitored board because their identities can be traced.
Surveys show four of five university students still rely on China’s heavily censored media for their news. But in a digital age when nearly 70,000 Chinese students are studying in the United States and roughly 163,000 foreign students study at Chinese universities, walls against information are porous.
One senior recalled an excruciating roundtable discussion with foreign journalists who visited Peking University in 2007 and asked about the government crackdown on student demonstrators in 1989. “They always ask about this June 4 incident, and we just keep silent,” she said. “It is not because we don’t want to talk. It is because we have no idea what exactly happened!”
“I felt a little bit humiliated because we don’t know our own history,” she said. “So I went to the library and I read about June 4. Basically, everything was written by foreign journalists.”
The restrictions on public debate can reduce even political controversies on Peking University’s own campus to the status of rumors. Two Peking University professors were among the first to sign Charter 08, an online pro-democracy manifesto released in December and backed by many intellectuals.
After signing, Professor Xia, the economist, said he was forced to resign from positions at two research institutes. His fellow signer, He Weifang, a celebrated law professor, was transferred to an obscure college in China’s far west. Professor He’s exile was news overseas. But much like the coming anniversary of the Tiananmen Square crackdown, it drew little notice from students.
One student came to the professor’s defense with an anonymous post on the campus’s computer bulletin board. “The day will come,” he wrote, “when Professor He can go where he wants.”
Few students had to puzzle over the meaning. Youth Day, on May 4, commemorates a 1919 student protest against foreign imperialism and China’s weakness in resisting it. Seventy years later, in 1989, students from Peking University were again massing in the center of Beijing, demanding democracy. The student movement shook the ruling Communist Party to its core and ended with a military crackdown and hundreds of deaths.
And if a student today proposed a pro-democracy protest?
“People would think he was insane,” said one Peking University history major in a recent interview. “You know where the line is drawn. You can think, maybe talk, think about the events of 1989. You just cannot do something that will have any public influence. Everybody knows that.”
Most students also appear to accept it. For 20 years, China’s government has made it abundantly clear that students and professors should stick to the books and stay out of the streets. Students today describe 1989 as almost a historical blip, a moment too extreme and traumatic ever to repeat.
But whether democracy still inspires them is a more complex question.
Interviews with students and teachers at Peking University, as with experts on Chinese society here and abroad, draw a layered portrait of today’s students: disinclined to protest, but also lacking the economic grievances that helped ignite protests in 1989; proud of China’s achievements and flocking to the Communist Party, but seldom driven by ideology.
They are disturbed by government corruption and censorship and tremendously eager to study in the West, especially the United States. And despite the government’s attempts to wipe the 1989 protests from Chinese history, some have found out for themselves what happened. All but one of eight Peking University students interviewed for this article, for instance, said they had managed to download an acclaimed — and banned — documentary on the Tiananmen protests and view it in their dorm rooms.
“There is a stereotypical view that students are not interested in democracy. I don’t buy it,” Cheng Li, research director of the China Center at the Brookings Institution, said in an interview. “At the very least, they have a mixed opinion of the Communist Party.”
Xia Yeliang, a Peking University economics professor, said many students supported democracy in theory but did not want to risk their futures to fight for it. Students joke that they will get involved once pro-democracy forces gather steam, he said. “A rather high percentage of students are not interested in politics,” he said. “They say, ‘We know this is a good thing, but what relation does it have to us?’ They think about their personal affairs, how to get a job, how to go abroad.”
Even the mouthpiece of the Communist Party, People’s Daily, laments a general lack of idealism on campus. “Many university students are clearly very utilitarian in their thinking,” People’s Forum, a magazine published by People’s Daily, complained this month after a conducting a student survey. “Everything is based on ‘whether or not it is useful to me,’ ” the magazine said.
In fact, today’s students have more to lose than did protesters 20 years ago. Then, university students believed that their futures were endangered by a soaring inflation rate of 28 percent, rampant government corruption and shrinking job prospects, according to a 2001 book on the Tiananmen movement by Dingxin Zhao, a University of Chicago sociology professor. Many had lost hope in the government’s economic reforms.
Today, even students who criticize Communist rule are gratified by China’s great strides. “Sometimes we don’t like the policies of our government,” said Wang Yongli, a fourth-year physics major. “But on the other hand, nowadays we are proud of the country and the government because they have moved so many people to a better life.”
The Communist Party is careful to cultivate this image, while seeking to defuse longings for democracy by vowing to govern “democratically.”
Officials say they oppose Western-style multiparty democracy as wrong for China, but embrace the idea of consultation, public review and balloting under party rule. China will continue to open up the political system, step by step, as the country becomes wealthier and more stable, party officials promise.
1 2 Some China analysts suggest that student discontent could rise if the current economic crisis clouds their futures. China sends nine times as many students to institutions of higher education now as it did in 1989, and competition for good jobs is fierce. Nearly one in four graduates last year could not find work, Xinhua, the state-run news agency, reported.
But since 1989, Communist Party leaders have realized they ignore youth at their peril. The government is now trying to ease job anxieties with training programs and incentives for graduates to work in rural areas. “If you are worried, then I am more worried than you,” Prime Minister Wen Jiabao told one student group in December.
The Communist Party has also ratcheted up recruitment and political education, making college students the party’s fastest-growing segment, according to Susan L. Shirk, a political science professor at the University of California, San Diego. More than 8 percent of all students were party members in 2007, compared with less than 1 percent in 1989. At elite institutions like Peking University, percentages are much higher.
Some of those students echo the party’s line that Western-style democracy does not suit China. “China has a large population, and education has a long way to go,” said Song Chao, a Peking University ecology major. “Considering that, we need to put some regulations on people. The major task for China now is development.”
Others hope to nudge the party toward reform. “Of course, if we could become a democratic society, we would like that,” said another history major and party aspirant. “But this is not something you can achieve by radical means. What if there is chaos?”
But a majority of students seek party membership not as an ideological statement but rather as a means to a better job, the survey published by People’s Forum concluded. At Peking University, many students say they nap through the university’s much mocked, though mandatory, political thought classes. “Even the teachers know they are teaching rubbish,” one senior said.
Most students will make such statements only anonymously because government control of campus speech remains tight. Professors say some students are assigned to report to the administration if they hear teachers adopting antigovernment or antiparty lines. Most students interviewed for this article did not want to be identified, saying their comments might be negatively noted in their personal files.
Five years ago, the university shut down a computer bulletin board — a vibrant hub of information for 300,000 users — after the central government’s education minister complained that it did not always reflect “the right view.” Students say they are careful about what they write on the new, restricted and monitored board because their identities can be traced.
Surveys show four of five university students still rely on China’s heavily censored media for their news. But in a digital age when nearly 70,000 Chinese students are studying in the United States and roughly 163,000 foreign students study at Chinese universities, walls against information are porous.
One senior recalled an excruciating roundtable discussion with foreign journalists who visited Peking University in 2007 and asked about the government crackdown on student demonstrators in 1989. “They always ask about this June 4 incident, and we just keep silent,” she said. “It is not because we don’t want to talk. It is because we have no idea what exactly happened!”
“I felt a little bit humiliated because we don’t know our own history,” she said. “So I went to the library and I read about June 4. Basically, everything was written by foreign journalists.”
The restrictions on public debate can reduce even political controversies on Peking University’s own campus to the status of rumors. Two Peking University professors were among the first to sign Charter 08, an online pro-democracy manifesto released in December and backed by many intellectuals.
After signing, Professor Xia, the economist, said he was forced to resign from positions at two research institutes. His fellow signer, He Weifang, a celebrated law professor, was transferred to an obscure college in China’s far west. Professor He’s exile was news overseas. But much like the coming anniversary of the Tiananmen Square crackdown, it drew little notice from students.
One student came to the professor’s defense with an anonymous post on the campus’s computer bulletin board. “The day will come,” he wrote, “when Professor He can go where he wants.”
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