During his unit of Humanities Core, Professor Wasserstrom has gone to great lengths to discuss the way cross-cultural exchange radically changes the meaning of intellectual and cultural works, displaying the way globalization propagates ideas from one place to another. Rather than homogenizing the world though, this spread actually diversifies it, as the recipients of ideas and culture attach their own unique meaning and understanding, creating an evolution rather than a standardization of thought.
Wasserstrom cites various examples of this, like the big picture political analysis of the way Communism, a European ideology that emphasized the urban working class, was adapted in a Chinese context to promote a national, peasant-oriented revolution. He also covers smaller things, like how pro-democracy protesters in Hong Kong and Taiwan took the American version of the song "Do You Hear the People Sing", originally from the French play Les Misérables, translated it to their respective languages, and then used it as a protest song to represent their movement. This discussion of cultural exchange and change fits into a bigger argument about how we look at other countries, and the perils of shallow understanding and mischaracterization.
A few years back, I stumbled upon a song I loved almost instantly upon hearing it. The song was Masao Sen's "Kitaguni No Haru" (1977), Japanese for North Country Spring. I got the song stuck in my head, and then, while whistling the tune in the car, my dad told me it sounded familiar, before suddenly bursting out into Chinese lyrics along my whistling. This surprised me, because up until this point I hadn't even realized the song had a Chinese version. My dad then told me it was pretty famous when he was in college, and then laughed at the fact that I knew it at all.
This series of coincidences set me off on a bit of a chase for whatever I could find about the song. In the process, I ended up taking a taste for out-of-fashion Chinese ballads, but that's a point for later. When I read the prompt about cultural exchange, and especially considering the fact that the unit is about China, where my parents are from, this felt like a personal choice I wanted to talk about.
Japanese Original of Kitaguni no Haru by Masao Sen
Teresa Teng singing Kitaguni No Haru/Bei Guo Zhi Chun, alternating between Japanese and Chinese periodically.
To begin covering this song and its history, there's really no way to avoid Deng Li-Jun, better known as Teresa Teng. Teng was a Taiwanese singer, born in 1953, who would go on to become arguably the most influential singer in modern East Asian history. Her multi-national popularity was spurred on by several factors: her mastery of numerous languages, particularly Mandarin and Japanese, during a time of improved relations and diplomatic thaw between China and Japan; a repertoire of romantic ballads and folk songs in a period where they were in vogue in Japan, as well as novel and attractive in a newly opening China where Communist revolutionary songs were the norm; and finally, though very certainly not least, an incredible singing voice.
Teresa Teng's covers of the song in the 80s, both in Japanese and Mandarin, would bring it to great attention, though particularly in mainland China. Something important of note is the lyricism and its differences between Japanese and Mandarin versions. The Japanese original is about a migrant worker from the rural North yearning to return and see his family. This was part of Masao Sen's appeal, as he sought to portray himself as a humble man with rural origins. Meanwhile, the Mandarin version Teng sang is instead a romantic song about someone longing for their lover, something that reflects her style as an artist. There is also a different Mandarin version that is more faithful to the original lyrics, with substitutions here and there to maintain the melody, reflecting the challenges of attempting direct translations of songs from one language to another.
It's in this context that my parents would hear the song, as they were college students in the 80s when the country was opening up to foreign trade, and importantly foreign ideas and culture. Teng's career and life would decline as the 80s and 90s rolled on due to personal misgivings as well as the political crackdown in China following the Tiananmen Square Massacre, and she would pass away in 1995 in Thailand due to asthma-related complications. Teng's legacy would live on though, paving the way for Chinese pop music, and predating the recent global popularity of East Asian music.
Something interesting I found while researching for this was a LinkedIn article about someone's personal experience with the song, linked to the right. As a source its validity was questionable, but the sentiments in it were valid. And while it's a heartfelt read in its own right, what intrigued me was the second paragraph, where the author draws parallels between the struggles of Japanese migrant workers of the song's time, and the contemporary predicament of rural Chinese workers. The author comments on the shared sentiment of longing for home, away from the city where they reside for work.
This stood out to me because it highlights a notable debate over the economic history of the two countries, as both China and Japan have had similar models and policies for development Both countries followed export-oriented models of industrialization, leveraging protectionist policies of high tariffs, currency controls, and state loans and subsidies to rapidly develop industries for global markets. At the same time, the countries have had very significant historical differences that have to be factored in when evaluating them. On the more technical side, Japan's economy has far less state ownership than China's does, while China has more foreign firms operating there than Japan does. From a broader historic point of view, the circumstances under which both countries adopted economic reforms were also different. Japan adopted their economic plans during the 60s as a response to discontent and internal divisions over American military presence, while China adopted it in the late 70s to pull the country out of poverty following the Great Leap Forward and Cultural Revolution.
This analysis evokes Professor Wasserstrom's idea of imperfect analogy, where flawed examples are used to explain historical patterns in a way that doesn't fully represent them. Here the likening between the two countries has its roots in many factors. To a certain extent the countries are seen as broadly similar, being East Asian nations, related to a reductionist view of East Asian people being the "same" to some with a foreign perspective. There is also legitimate economic consideration, as both countries have achieved extremely rapid development, but also similar structural problems of credit-funded speculation and widening inequality. Again though, this partially stems from the fact that the economic policies espoused by these countries contradicted the Neoliberal thinking found in the West, particularly America. Compounding this is the perception in America of unfair trade practices and job-killing competition by China and Japan, sentiments that resulted in the Plaza Accord in 1985 to address Japanese currency controls, as well as the recent trade wars started by Trump against China.
As a parting note for this section, I want to go back to the excerpt of migrant workers in Japan and China. The rapid industrialization and urbanization brought economic prosperity to both countries, but it also came with significant upheavals. Rural people in both countries found themselves impoverished as the rest of the country developed, resorting to moving to the cities to find work and the opportunity to move up in life. China in particular has a problematic situation where urban and rural citizens have differing access to public services like healthcare and education within the same location. The reason I bring up all of this is to home in a central point, that to simplify and reduce is often to misrepresent, and that we should be vigilant of what others tell us, but also what, and how, we think about the world around us.
This was an interesting archive post for me because it was a lot more personal than other ones and allowed me to get into some nerdy stuff about developmental economics that I've been interested in for a while. Something that I didn't include that I think I should bring up is the way time as well as space changes meaning for things. As I'm writing this Professor Wasserstrom actually recently mentioned this exact point I'm bringing up. The song has now fallen out of popularity, being almost 50 years old by now. Back in 2011 when Japan was struck by a massive tsunami, there was a television program where well-known songs were being covered to raise funds for recovery, with Kitaguni No Haru being one of them. Nostalgia is a powerful feeling and shows how time profoundly changes our feelings about things. I wonder sometimes if the things that find to be recent and relevant at this age will become the distant past, and I'll feel old when people reminisce on media from the early 2000s.